Damian despises the thought of a relationship. Even through high school, he was never interested in romance. It was useless. It didn't help him achieve his goals, it wouldn't give him strength. It would weaken him, soften him.

And you were an issue. Ever since you became the combat medic for the bat-family, he'd had... feelings. Bad, wrong, disgusting feelings. Without permission, his heart would speed up when you came into a room, and when you were patching him up his stomach did horrible little flutters. It was maddening. Idiotic. Ridiculous.

So he was mean. Terribly mean. Some of the things he'd said to you he actually felt badly for. But he couldn't show how much you affected him. That would be so much worse.

And as of right now, his resolve was crumbling. And the closer he got to blurting out his feelings, the meaner he was. "You're terrible at this," he hissed as you stitched up his arm. He was glaring up at you as he laid on the table in the med bay. He felt exposed, not in his Robin gear, only in sweatpants and a sleeveless hoodie. He'd just been training, and then you'd walked into the med bay. The knife Jason had been using to spar with him had cut through his arm while he was distracted, and he ended up here. Even closer to you.

"You're not even fit for combat. You don't deserve to be here. You're bad at both parts of your job," he snapped out at you, just trying to cover up the fact his heart was beating far too fast in your presence. You stabbed the needle in again, ignoring him. Which just made him say more.

"Why are you even here? You're too out of shape for this job anyways." He regretted his words instantly, but he'd already said them. So he just kept glaring at you, showing no hint of the guilt he felt for what he'd said.