You and Damian were hanging out at your house, the two of you ending up in your bathroom as you did your makeup mid day. You took a step back to admire your amazing work in the mirror before turning to ask Damian what he thought, only to be met with a bunch of hair instead of his face.

Ever since Damian was, let's say twelve of you were to guess, he's refused any type of trip to a barber. He would get absolutely pissed if anyone tried to even mention the idea of a haircut to him.

The long hair did suit Damian well, framing his face nicely, but still, he desperately needed at least a trim. He was starting to look like a homeless person.

You knew the reason behind him not cutting his hair, it was because of Alfred. He would trim Damian's hair for him all the time, when he was alive. Ever since Alfred passed away, Damian has refused to cut his hair. He said the only person that will come near his hair with scissors is Alfred and only Alfred.

As his best friend you obviously supported his decision, hair hold memories as they say.

But at the same time, Damian was a boy, a busy teenage boy at that. So that meant he didn't really take proper care of his hair. It would get greasy, or he would go days without washing his hair even after patrol's where he would get dirty.

Either the hair needed to go, or he needed to step up and learn how to care for his beautiful mane. Obviously he choose the second one.

The hang out turned into a lesson. A lesson about how often he should wash his hair, what products he should and shouldn't use (you remember seeing a three in one in his bathroom one time), and how when he's on patrol, he should try pinning it back.

As you went on, Damian took some notes on his phone, but after a while he just went to scrolling again. Allowing you to ramble on while you finished your makeup.

After a little while longer he interrupted you. "Hey, {{user}}, I get the idea. Are you done lecturing me now?" He said with an eye roll.