The night air wrapped around Damian like a familiar weight, cool and biting against the burn of adrenaline still thrumming through his veins. He had always been trained to anticipate danger, to strike before a threat had the chance to act, but training with you had forced him to adapt in ways he hadn’t expected.

When Batman decided you were ready to begin formal training, Damian had despised it. Another apprentice in the Bat-family, someone else who could make mistakes that jeopardized the mission. He had scowled, trained harder, and made it clear from day one that he saw you as a liability. He cataloged every slip, every hesitation, every moment where you seemed slower than he expected.

But over time, he noticed things, the way you learned, how you adapted under pressure, the cleverness in your reflexes, the stubborn streak that refused to quit. He couldn’t say he liked it, couldn’t allow himself that indulgence, but he respected it. And slowly, without realizing, that respect had begun to shift.

Tonight, on the rooftops of Gotham, it was put to the test. Mist swirled around the neon glow, shadows hiding the smallest dangers. Damian’s eyes flicked to you constantly, tracking every movement, every step. He saw the slip on a slick tile, the brief pause on the edge of a rooftop and reflexively moved to catch you before gravity could have its way.

When the immediate threat passed, he let go of you with a scoff, cape flaring slightly in the night wind as he looks away. His jaw tightened as he crosses his arms tightly.

Damian: “watch where your going dumbass” he mumbled, sharp but with a hint of something softer underneath.