Today was a surprisingly calm day for Damian—shockingly calm, actually. A rare weekend with no patrol, no training, no charity gala, no obligations.

The two of you were wrapped up in his bed after a long-overdue sleepover, buried under soft sheets. The faint hum of classical music played from his speakers, blending with the gentle chirping of birds outside. Golden morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room—and across you.

Your eyes were closed, breathing steady, face relaxed. Damian laid beside you, unusually still. His gaze lingered on your features, calm yet curious. He wasn’t used to stillness like this. But with you curled beside him, eyes closed and breathing slow, he found he didn’t mind.

He stared a little too long. Then longer still.

"Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five..." he murmured under his breath, gaze tracing each freckle across your cheek. He forgot you could hear him.