Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Damian Wayne wasn’t lonely. He was rarely alone after Jonathan Kent forced his way into his life. Like a plant between the sidewalk stones or that tuft of hair that never set right.Not that he minded anymore, Jon had become his best friend. Just, uh, don’t tell him. Okay? And yet, some nights, when he was looking over the cold, grimy city waiting for criminals, Damian would spot a pair of lovers. A man and his girl walking out of a cute coffee shop, or a movie theater. An artist dropping off her muse, or maybe a singer and his boytoy.

No matter the case he always wondered what it would be like to find a person like that. Someone to understand him so completely that he never really had to clarify. Someone who saw past his scars and recognized the healing he’d forced onto them. If they would hear about his mother, if they got that far, and see how she tried to protect Damian. To see past his surface, heir of Wayne enterprises, introverted, dark. Mysterious. And notice who Damain wanted to be, like washing a dirty window and being able to see the beautiful world outside the bubble you surrounded yourself in. Well, someone other than Jon.

No. Damian Wayne was not lonely, nor alone. But there were some days he wished he wasn’t so observant of the dalliance of others.

Like today while he was walking into the library to return a book, a pair of older kids giggling as they held hands. He wanted to scoff, it would be all too easy for him to surround himself with women - even at 15. But no, he would not be that person. No, he stayed away from that, he wanted to focus on his studies. At least, that's what he told himself as he waved back to the librarian, who asked about his latest read. 

It was fine. He mused silently, shrugging passing over the school’s pristine copy of Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Inaccurate, but fine.  They talked a bit more and Damian eventually peeled away to find a nice corner to study in. Actually study.

Sunlight streamed through the library, like pure gold in an authentic Hellenic Temple. Pure and yet unworldly. Like the sunlight graced the sacred room like fresh frost on the ground. Coating it in a pristine freshness that only the empty nights could shoo away. Thin layers of dust on the shelves as the books lay in wait. Hoping for a bright young mind to crack open the pages and search for meaning. Or maybe for a group to plan their next adventure.

Steps echoed in the cavern of knowledge, the old stairs creaking slightly under Damian’s weight. The old wood with wear patterns reflecting the success of Gotham Preparatory Highschool of the Fine Arts over its 150+ year long history staring up at him with curiosity. What would he do next? Who would he be later on in his life? Would he remember today in 20 years?

His eyes rolled over the tomes and shelves, his feet stopping as he stared at a very well loved copy of ‘The Complete collection of Shakespeare’. Part of him wanted to read it, look over the pages and marvel at the loved tales and ink. To look into the mind of a man who hadn’t been alive for 400 years. His stories are still being retold in every possible way with no end in sight. As ingrained into culture as the sun or ‘gendered’ roles. But just as he thought to walk away Damian watched the book be gingerly taken from the shelf. In its place was you, or at the very least your face.

His heart nearly stopped. At first in shock, suddenly aware he wasn’t alone. Then in awe, you were the girl poets wrote their books on. He had no doubt about this, so was it so surprising that he couldn’t help but analyze your face. The gentle smile on your lips as you flicked through the pages. Mumbling out a quote or two from the playbook, rolling your eyes at words he could only assume weren’t school appropriate. Yet Damian couldn’t focus on your voice, or really anything, your gentle existence freezing his brain.

Get it together Damian! You are the Grandson of the Demon’s Head, son of Bruce Wayne! A girl shouldn’t -

Then you laughed and suddenly every small quote falling from your lips made his lips twitch upwards. And Damian smiled like he knew those words. Maybe he did, he couldn’t remember over his blood rushing past his ears. Maybe not all of the words, though it was likely, but enough to understand. Then you put the book back and Damian finally registered reality. His heart was pounding for a girl he had never seen before, a girl who’s voice he had only heard for a few rare seconds. A girl whom he had only known for a minute. 

But his heart yearned , yearned to be understood. Yearned to be heard and held with the same reverence as you held that book. His face barely warmed up. Damian wasn’t aware of his sneaking until he saw your eyes dart to a copy of a romance novel he had never seen before. A sigh of familiarity leaving you as you picked the book up, like a newborn. Your hair falling just over your shoulder as you craned your neck to read the page.. Just enough to shine in the light like a curtain around you. Like it was silk or gemstones beyond count, or maybe even a pure thread of warmth itself. 

But he memorized it anyway.

Observed you like he had never had anyone before. Because while he watched you read, really read the book . Laughed at funny moments, smiled at sweet ones, blushed at ones he couldn’t even fathom. Damian could see you understood the story. Even when your face scrunched in confusion, or possibly disgust, you kept going on. Using your time to really exist in the book. To frolic in the world that the pages allowed you to see, to walk alongside the main cast and be their friend.

A heavy gasp for a breath he hadn’t realized he grasped for sounded between them. Your ear twitched ever so slightly, residually from when that was a useful feature for humans. Head scanning the areas around you for anyone. Then your gaze moved to where Damian was watching. He panicked. Stepping away, like the night he heard he was going to his father’s. Then… 

Nothing.

Once again Damian’s heart raced, eyes begging to see you again. Just to see you smile. Or make sure you were real. Hell, were you real? He picked up the nearest book, bending the spine inward to reveal the spoils inside. The words wobbled, moved, blended together in his unfocused state. But the book was real. He was here, and… Well.

You were real.

You hummed, he could hear it. Oh man he wanted so bad to know you. Suddenly Damian Wayne, Son of Bruce Wayne and Talia Al Ghul, wanted to learn you. Dissect you like the poor poor frog from Biology. Understand how you worked. Your name, your favorite color, how you liked your skies. Did you like tea or coffee? Hard or soft covers for books? What music made you sing , truly belt out your heart and soul to the walls. What gave you life. He wanted to learn everything he could about you and more. He wanted to steal your time and hold your hand.

He shut the book he held and dared to steal another glance, just in time to see you set down that romance novel you seemed to love. Then you began to walk away, leaving him alone in the shelves. He whined quietly, muttering a curse in his native tongue before casually approaching the book you had set down.

Leatherbound, old - but well kept, a rose on the front. Cursive text with gold leaf on top. His hand delicately traced the cover., absorbed what only you could have seen in the book. Held it with such care he couldn’t recognize his hands. Damian braced himself with a deep breath and opened the cover. Reading every useless word and carefully written dedication. Then each word on the pages. Every sentence filled with the same yearning he felt now. He fell for you, without knowing it, in that exact second. A book so deep with romance it was hard to breathe normally. 

Guard fully dropped as he stood, no longer fussing over his biology homework in his backpack. The illusion fell, however, as a soft footstep  sounded on the rug behind him. Damian tensed up, the book shutting with a loud ‘whump’. He couldn’t move as his mind raced. Had this been a trap? Did you know he was watching? His eyes closed and focused on slowing his breath. A soft giggle, as gentle and amused as can be, left you behind him. Suddenly he was blushing, something he had rarely done. Ever. He turned, caught red handed as you stood before him. Uniform slightly undone as you crossed your arms.

A look of ‘I caught you’ on your face as you smirked at him. His mouth opened to protest, to defend himself. But, he couldn’t. He was stuck there, stunned by just your sublime presence. Your pure beauty. Then you did the completely unexpected thing, something he had only wanted since he laid his eyes on you. 

You told him your name. 

Chapter Text

Damian Wayne had been avoiding you. Not because you did something wrong, actually it was because everything about you felt right . He couldn’t help but feel light when you pointed out the book he held was one of your favorites. No he avoided you because he wanted to scoop you up and hide you away in the Batcave so no harm could come to you, and partially so that Fredrick Whitton VI would stop staring at you during your shared history class.  How he had never noticed, he was entirely unsure of.

Actually, he believed he knew. Since he was raised in the League of Assassins he had an impeccable knowledge of the world. Because memorizing dates and locations was important for missions and better than whatever torture his grandfather decided was fit for whatever he had forgotten. Most of which lead to various scars. Maybe that's why he also hated history as a class.

However now he couldn’t look away, literally unable to not pay full attention. Physically incapable of resting his eyes as you wrote down notes and asked questions. He couldn’t help but stare at you from across the courtyard as you read instead of eating. Couldn’t help but bask in your existence as you chatted up your friends. He also couldn’t help but slowly try to be your friend. 

And maybe that's why he had fumbled through a proposal with you: every wednesday you would read books in the library. With him . It became a highlight of his week, every week. For 30 minutes he could experience your undivided attention as he read alongside you, though it was often with different books. The best days were when you talked about the books you read. Oh it was pure bliss. He got to hear you speak and he got to develop a better understanding of who you were , who you wanted to be. What kind of boy made you swoon - he was actually surprised at how openly you giggled about it. He got to hear about what writing style made you grin, or roll your eyes. No growling men for you, apparently.

Damian couldn’t help but fall hopelessly for you.

Suddenly his art classes became a lot more fun, at least his teacher made comments about his work gaining a new ‘life’ to it. Damian, without recognizing it, had found a muse. One that made every day that wasn’t Wednesday at lunch feel like hell. No, actually… Hell was better than this. At least he knew what that was like, he had no idea what he was doing with you. And while he truly tried his best to hide it, that could only last so long when Damian’s entire family was detectives.

No, it didn’t take long for anyone to find out. It wasn't a secret from Jonathan Kent for long, he knew something was up as soon as Damian’s heart started to race that fateful day. Tim was the next to notice when he saw Damian blushing, fully red in the face as he hyper focused on a full color portrait of you - which has since been framed and hung in the Bat Cave. Because of course it is a family heirloom. Damian has a crush? Damian is drawing them ??? Everyone must know!  

Tim told Dick and Barbara, Dick told Jason. Alfred found out from a pinned picture Damian had left on an easel in one of the rooms he liked to paint in. And Bruce found out from Damian a month after discovering you, he needed advice on getting out of the friend zone. Bruce just said ‘ask her out, you’re a Wayne’ and ruffled Damian’s hair. 

Safe to say the entire family knew within a week that Damian was head over heels for you, even Selina. 

Selina just offered support, and advice when Damian gave her the ‘I need something, but I’m not going to ask for it because I hate feeling vulnerable, but I trust you’ look. Bruce lightly teased Damian, but poked around the parent group chat to see who your parents were. Alfred just packed his favorite meals on Wednesdays, for a confidence boost. Jason mercilessly teased Damian, Dick tried not to but… How could he not when He’d found Damian using your school picture as a reference for a sketch? Barbara, Stephanie and Cass offered modern women tips, as well as some time and true courting rituals that still worked. Nothing could go wrong with a bouquet of flowers and a trip to the bookstore. Tim just smirked and kept tabs on you, in case you were actually some freak.

Trust Tim, you aren’t.

But it wasn’t long before Fate had their own ideas. Damian might have choked on his drink, and stood there in shock as he observed you, at his Father’s charity gala, from afar. Hair kissing your shoulders as you flicked page after page. Eventually you put your bookmark in and slowly raised your gaze directly to his. He froze and pretended to have been sweeping the party. You simply giggled, too quiet for him to hear, and stood waltzing over to him. 

“Well, if it isn’t Damian Wayne.” You teased lightly, a soft lilt in your voice, hands delicately crossing over your torso. “I fancy seeing you here.”

Mind? Gone. Eyes? Glued to the beverage table over your shoulder. Heart? In your hands, irrevocably. He took a deep breath and nodded, trying to pretend you were anyone but yourself. “I agree, it's a pleasure to sEe-” Damian shut his eyes, oh how he hated voice cracks. “See you outsideofclass.” He mumbled out, finally gazing upon your ethereal beauty. Meet those eyes which he had such a hard time truly grasping the depth of. The warmth of.

“Anything interesting that has happened over the past few days?” You asked, turning to face the crowds. 

Looking over as you analyzed the adults. Smirking softly as you spotted a boy your age. Mildly older, maybe 16, but hot as hell - at least in Damian’s understanding of teen beauty standards. He’d be useless against Scarecrow or a hivemind alien starfish with a comically simple name. Your lip trapped between your teeth as you passed up the fine man, eyes resting back on the poor poor Wayne. Where was Dick when Damian needed him? 

“Not particularly.” He mumbled, looking at his father talking up some corrupt businessman. Damian scoffed, the man was just a front for some of Penguin’s schemes. “Though I read my first modern day Young Adult book.” It slipped out, no one, no one , was supposed to know he read 

“Oh, congratulations. Care to share?” Gods, your voice was poison . Sinful in the way it seeped into his soul and sealed his fate.

“Ah. Well, I believe it was called..” Damian paused, how was he supposed to tell the women he wished to woo he had read Icebreaker . “I cannot recall, but it was a romance about a hockey player and figure skater?”

You snorted and covered your mouth, shock, disbelief and, was that, mischief on your face. “Oh?” You chuckled out, leading him to the drink table for some ice water, with a cucumber because it’s fancy or something. “D-Did you enjoy that, ah, adventure .”

“No.” Shoot, he responded way too quickly. “I was not expecting that. No, I stopped reading after I choked on my Kabsa.”

“Kabsa?” Oh his poor heart, you were interested in his heritage. 

“It’s a heritage dish of mine, traditionally with basmati rice, lamb, beef or chicken and mixed with spices.” Damian glanced at your skin, looking at the contrast (and if there isn’t any then he admired the similarities). Smiling as to see that not all of Gotham’s higher ups were horrible people.

“Oh? You’ll have to let me try it one day.” 

Cupid, Aphrodite, Rati, Hathor, Yue Lao, Freyja, and Oshun, all of them, must have been ripping Damian’s heart from his chest and shoving it into your arms every time he even tried to get it back. He could barely breathe as you smiled so innocently at him, as if you hadn’t asked to share cultures with him. As if it was just some food, and not a glimpse into his more personal life. To his past . Like you wanted to embrace his mother’s side, without even knowing their situation, without shame or mockery.

“D-Do you.. Have any..” Damian stared at you in shock, mouth slightly open as he gaped at you. A sly looking Tim made a knowing smirk as he passed behind you. “Heritage dishes?” He finished in a single half breath.

“Maybe.” You teased, making a small gesture to your parents who waited a few feet away, clearly intent on leaving. “You’ll have to find out later.”

Damian’s mind blanked as you handed him a business card, but if a teen girl owned a Hot Topic and decided to base her card on that, and stepped away. Hesitating. His eyes glued to the way you licked your lips, tapped lipstick over the old and fading coat (or not if you don’t do that) and stepped super close to him.

“Text me when you finish your next book?” You whispered in his ear and then.. His brain felt fuzzy. Why? Well, soft, plush, lips brushed his cheek and then disappeared as quick as they came like the softest cloud. Then you were gone, your voice ringing in his ears, his eyes wide as he stared at you as you walked away.

Damian flipped the business card over and nearly whined, it was cruel. Really cruel. Because all the card said was ‘Damian <3’ in the corner. Your name, age and a random fun fact about you were in the top left in gold. And in the center, in the handwriting he’d seen hundreds of times on your notebooks was a number. 

Your number.