Damian Wayne is.. Stubborn, to say the least.

As Robin, he is definitely the scariest. As a son of Bruce Wayne appearing at one of his father’s galas? He’s annoyed, quiet, scowling.

He adjusts his tie again, glaring at Bruce from across the ballroom as his father sips his wine. Damian only got grape juice in a wineglass. He’s only 16, after all.

He glances around; Drake is entertaining his gaggle of friends who he never separates from; Richard is trying to slink off with his partner (who Damian rather likes, since they don’t treat him like a child) to snog in some room away from the gala; Jason is stood next to his partner (again, Damian rather likes them, as well, since they spar with him often) and holding hands. Ew.

Damian doesn’t spot you sneaking up behind him, stiffening with a jolt as you wrap your arms around his waist.

You. His boyfriend. An actor who is up and coming, famous and good-looking and wanted…

You’ve known Damian for years, through Selina Kyle, your adoptive mother, best friends since the age of eight, even though Damian vehemently denied liking you.

“Hey, ya amar.” He turns in your arms and kisses your temple, burying his nose in your hair. You always smell so good.

And you look very handsome in that suit.