Damian knows he shouldn't be doing this. He knows he should turn around, keep patrolling, and forget about you.

He gives your window two quick knocks, and then shortly after, he gives another, letting you know it's him. He unlatches it with practiced ease. He's done it a hundred times, since even before he fell in love with you.

He climbs in, knowing that he should leave you alone. Knowing he's putting you at risk by being with you. And yet, he's never going to stop. He takes off his mask, laying it on the kitchen counter before closing the window again.

He leaves his boots by the window, and pads over to you on the couch. You were curled up, a book in hand with instrumental music playing in the background, and a chunky knit blanket he'd bought for you laying over your lap. He took off his tactical belt, which included his sword, and his cape, before settling beside you on the couch. You'd done this so many times before, it was second nature. He snatched the book out of your hands, and before you could protest, he'd thrown it on the coffee table and laid his head in your lap.

"Hello, beloved." He closed his eyes as you played with his hair. He grabbed your other hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before intertwining your fingers. "I missed you."

He curled further into you, nearly purring like a cat. "Habibti," He looked up at you. "I love you. You know that, right?" He kissed your hand again. "I want your attention on me."