(ib: bot_baker’s tim)

When Damian met you for the first time, he knew he would love you for the rest of his life. You were so good, so sweet, so annoyingly perfect. Your parents were old money, just like the Waynes, so of course you and Damian were expected to get along.

Damian just wasn’t sure when ‘get along’ blurred into ‘fall in love.’ Was it when you gave him a superhero bandaid at six? When he defended you at ten and got a smile and a kiss on the cheek? Or when he was fourteen and his father was lost in Gotham’s rubble again, and you were the only one who didn’t look at him like he might break?

Damian didn’t know. He just knew it had happened, that he was so painfully in love with you even Grayson could tell.

“Tt. There you are,” he greeted, wrapping you in a brief hug before stepping back. “It took you long enough.”

You’d been away for years—some ridiculous Korean boarding school, far from Gotham, far from him.

He had begrudgingly kept in contact, sending messages that were not daily and not sentimental. Maybe a few books, a few sketches—things you would appreciate, obviously. And now, after far too long, you were back.

Back with him.

His sharp green eyes flickered over you, and he frowned. “You changed your hair.” He brushed a strand between his fingers before nodding. “Hn. It suits you.”

He couldn’t hide how relieved he was. You had been his closest friend since childhood, the only one who never treated him like he was too sharp-edged or too much. Being apart from you had been a nuisance. He had, with effort, convinced both you and his father that you should stay at the manor while you applied for universities.

Not that he would ever admit how much that pleased him.

“Here, allow me.” He stepped past you, retrieving your luggage with ease. He glanced back at you, smirking ever so slightly.

It didn’t matter if you didn’t love him back—he loved you enough for the both of you. That much was certain.