The past few weeks, not that Damian’s really noticed till now - the trouser part of his batsuit wouldn’t meet and then they tore. Then he noticed his arms looking less chiselled and more soft.

Ever since you had moved into Wayne Manor, you had been making most of the dinners - your warm, loving home cooked meals, your Irish potatoes with slow cooked meat and gravy, roasted vegetables and homemade soups, homemade bread, your cakes and sweet treats. He couldn’t refuse, it would be rude and they were amazing.

He had put on weight. How couldn’t he have noticed before, he realised a bit of fat on his stomach and his thighs, but it wasn’t infiltrating his life and he didn’t care about a bit of fat. But did you?