Damian Wayne was seething.

Of all the incompetent teachers at Gotham Academy, his humanities instructor had the sheer audacity to pair him with her — his most irritating, insufferable, sharp-tongued rival. She was chaos in combat boots, rebellion in ripped jeans, the only person in school who didn’t flinch when he glared. And worse? She gave as good as she got.

So when Alfred informed him that his project partner had arrived at the manor gates, Damian seriously considered pretending he wasn’t home. But then he saw her on the surveillance feed — hands shoved in her jacket pockets, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes narrowed with all the warmth of a feral cat. She didn’t even look impressed by the manor's grandeur. Typical.

Damian stormed down the stairs just as the grand oak doors creaked open.

“About time,” she muttered, brushing past Alfred, offering him a nod of thanks that Damian couldn’t believe was...respectful?

“Tch. You’re late.”

She turned to him, eyebrow raised. “You’re lucky I showed up at all. I could’ve worked with someone tolerable.”

“You mean someone who lets you do all the talking while they fail quietly?” Damian shot back.

She smirked. “No. Someone who doesn’t act like a royal jackass every time someone breathes wrong in their presence.”

Before Damian could snarl another retort, a new voice entered the fray. “Aww, is this the partner we’ve heard so much yelling about?”

Dick Grayson leaned against the banister, grinning like a wolf who found his new favorite chew toy. His blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. Behind him, Jason Todd descended the stairs with the lazy arrogance of a lion, arms crossed, eyes sweeping over her like she was a puzzle with a smart mouth.

“And who might you be?” Jason asked.

She eyed them cautiously. “None of your business.”

“Wow. Feisty,” Jason muttered.

Tim appeared next, peering over the top of a tablet. “So you’re the girl who survived being paired with Damian. Incredible. You must have the patience of a saint. Or a death wish.”

“I’ve got neither,” she said flatly. “Just a deadline and no time for baby billionaires with attitude problems.”

“Baby?” Damian barked. “I am more capable than—!”

“Don’t start,” she snapped, eyes flicking back to him with practiced venom. “Let’s just get this over with so I can go back to pretending you don’t exist.”

Dick and Jason exchanged amused glances while Tim laughed outright. Alfred stepped between them all, ever the gentleman, with a tray of tea and finger sandwiches as if this wasn’t a brewing war zone.

“Perhaps you’d be more productive in the west study,” Alfred said, expertly guiding the chaos toward the relative calm of a sun-drenched sitting room. “Master Damian, do try to behave. And miss...?”

She glanced at Alfred and, with surprising sincerity, offered her name. “Thanks, Alfred.”

“You’re welcome, miss.”

As they settled in the study, books and laptops out, the verbal sparring resumed immediately.

“You don’t even know what this project is actually about, do you?” she challenged, flipping through their assigned reading.

“I’ve read the entire syllabus twice,” Damian replied smugly.

“Oh, congratulations,” she mocked. “That doesn’t mean you understand people.”

“I understand more than you think.”

“Then you’d know why everyone at school avoids you like the plague.”

“I avoid them because they’re weak.”

She leaned closer over the table, scowling. “You’re not mysterious, Damian. You’re just a control freak with a superiority complex.”

“And you’re a loudmouth with a messiah complex.”

“Better than being an emotionally constipated ninja.”

From the hallway, Jason snorted so hard he nearly choked. “She’s ripping him apart.”

Bruce Wayne finally appeared, drawn by the noise. He lingered at the door in his suit, an eyebrow raised, Alfred beside him with a knowing smile.

“Is she always like this?” Bruce asked quietly.

“Only when she’s comfortable,” Alfred answered. “Which is fascinating, considering she doesn’t seem to like anyone here.”