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The Parisian store clerk was watching him. Not in a way that he normally anticipated, Damian always expected some amount of celebrity stalking, but rather the look in her eyes was filled with contempt and judgment. The clerk had been uninterested, bored even, when Damian Wayne had walked in, barely even managing a greeting but now all of a sudden there was a palpable animosity.
It was no sweat off his back, the strange civilian wouldn’t be changing the outcome of the situation.
Damian Wayne had moved to Paris to finish out his PhD in Historical Art Restoration, to be surrounded by the very pieces he had analyzed for so long. To live in a city far from his familial responsibilities and with the choice to determine if Robin was going to work internationally. This was Damian’s year to finish his dissertation, to live without guilt away from Gotham and to truly live on his own.
He grabbed the Cat Window Seat, mentally noting that it was the very last one. The other stores had been sold out as well, this had been the third pet store he’d attempted. Alfred the Cat was used to a much grander amount of space than his small parisian one bedroom could afford Damian, Titus and Alfred the Cat, a window seat was the most economical choice for the squarefootage.
He could always come back for a cat tree if it seemed to be too little space, but Damian highly doubted that.
Approaching the store clerk, she rolled her eyes at his selection and immediately launched into some sort of mumbled rant at the choice.
“Pardon?” Damian’s tone wasn’t the most friendly, but it wasn’t as hostile as his family would have no doubt expected it to be.
The woman blinked a few times.
“Oh? Sorry, I didn’t realize you were a tourist.” She flushed and began to scan the small box.
“Hn.”
“It’s just that the local men have all been buying these cat window seats to try and get Ladybug to stop at their balconies. Rumors have been spreading the last few months that she likes to play with the cats and some men have turned into real creeps about it.” The young cashier explained, scanning the item and getting the small machine ready for him to pay.
“I see. And the heroine has not stopped peering into windows because?” Damian inquired, curious about this information. It was certainly an off habit for a heroine to keep, but he had heard worse and he had heard stranger. Most tended to learn however, so the proposition that it was a normal and routine action was disconcerting.
“She can do what she wants, she’s the savior of Paris. You can tap your card now.” The clerk rolled her eyes once more.
Damian tapped his card, declined his receipt and made on with his day, his purchase in hand.
Strange. Damian had done his research as Robin before landing in the foreign city, and of course was well versed in the siege of magic villains the city had seen in the last decade plus. He knew of its past heroes and of its current, original and sole Heroine Ladybug.
She used to have a partner in the business, old reports show a young blond male in a cat themed suit. But he hadn’t appeared in years, and the team that she once fostered seemed to be entirely retired. A bee or a fox showed up here or there, but it typically was the lady luck herself reporting to threats.
He did his best not to dwell on it for the rest of his walk, instead he attempted to commit the parisian streets to memory. The city was cursed by reputation, many being disappointed with the fact that it was just a city after all, but Damian could still find its charm and character. Flowerbeds scattered, ornate lamp posts, and beautiful bridges all guided him back to his new apartment.
And it was all his own. Not a safe house owned by a mysterious (cough, Batman, cough) contributor, not a Wayne Enterprises employee apartment, and not his Father’s or Siblings. It was Damian’s place, decorated to his liking and comfortable for his lifestyle.
Opening the door to the large building, Damian walked through the courtyard, then up two flights of stairs before getting to his door. The knob was centered, so typically parisian, and opened with the click of his key in the lock. Titus the Second was wagging his tail expectantly but stayed seated while Damian turned off the security alarm, but promptly was by his side the second it ended.
“Good boy, I trust you’ve behaved while I was out? Caused no trouble with Alfred the Cat?” Damian questioned the dog as he gave him pats. Nothing brought a more genuine joy to his heart than his animals. But buying a provincial piece of land to host his many cows, sheep, chickens and various other rescues was just… not feasible. Not for only two years of living in the country anyway.
He knew his siblings had a bet on how long it would take Damian to break and rescue a stray. He was determined that they not make any money off of his soft heart, but that was for the future to tell.
Removing the cat bed from the box, he quickly got all of its components together and had it suction cupped to the window of his small balcony. Alfred wasn’t trusted not to fall just yet, so he had not been allowed outside, but the interior window seat made it appear that the cat was still seated with Damian’s spot at the small outside table. He kept a terracotta pot of yellow tea roses on the table, something he picked up from a local farmers market, and Damian decided he might just invest into additional botanicals the next time he was out.
He felt peaceful for a moment, his dog by his side on the small patio, his cat in the window watching before dozing into a nap. It was a shame he had work to do. Damian sighed, bittersweet, and then went to grab his laptop.
Working remote in Paris was give and take after all.
It had been a few weeks since Alfred the Cat had taken up near permanent residence in the window seat. Every afternoon the cat could be spotted getting his bath in the sun, fully stretched out.
Damian had long since put thoughts of the Heroine out of his mind when it came to the seat. Especially since he had seen her in action a few times now. Paris seemed to attract all manner of magic users or aggressors, and while it wasn’t to Gotham’s scale of crazy, it was more than busy for the singularly practicing hero. He felt poorly that he wasn’t doing more to contribute, but Robin could not be spotted in Paris so soon after Damian’s move there.
He was coming in from an afternoon conference, a long and arduous meeting that only ended when a threat hit the city that needed to be handled by the Spotted wonder herself. Damian had grumbled at first, upset at the notion that this would draw long into a second meeting, but fortunately the present company all agreed the rest of the notes could be sent in an email.
Thus, it was 3 in the afternoon and he was returning home. Walk across the courtyard, up the flights of stairs, open the lock, turn off the alarm, pet Titus… Pet Titus? Damian turned, his dog not present by his side and having not greeted him at the door.
Bleeding out on his balcony, was none other than Ladybug, playing with Alfred the cat by brushing her gloved fingertips across the glass. Titus was seated, tail wagging, as he watched the cat jump around chasing her finger tips despite being unable to ever catch them through the glass barrier.
Damian wasn’t sure what to do at first. Should he intervene to offer her medical supplies? Should he leave her be, trusting that she wasn’t going to waste precious life saving time to play with cats? Should he offer to let Titus out so she could pet him?
Damian couldn’t decide, his feet frozen just beyond his doorway. She hadn’t seemed to notice him yet.
Damian decided he had learned enough skills from Alfred the Butler on how to greet guests of Alfred the Cat. Walking into his kitchen, Damian quickly pulled out a cold bottle of water, chopped up a few radishes and other vegetables, grabbed a small bowl to place a bit of tzatziki to the side of the veggies, and plate it all up.
She jumped when she saw him approaching through the glass, but seeing his hands full she didn’t move. He unlocked and walked out onto his balcony, setting the small plate down with the bottle of water, all without giving her much of a glance.
“Do you know that you have a reputation for stopping to play with cats?” He questioned, now turning around to walk back indoors.
“Oui, but life is short and cats are cute. I can hardly be blamed for such a simple habit.” She grinned, her voice was brighter than he thought it would be. Damian had heard her speak on the television a few times, her voice sounded harder then.
“Fair enough. Please let me know if you wish to play with my dog as well. Titus could use the extra exercise before our walk.” Damian offered, and hearing his name, Titus walked out onto the patio and smelled Ladybug in greeting. She was eager to pet him, and the dog seemed pleasantly excited for her affections.
“You’re not evicting me then?” Ladybug’s soft voice seemed more like it was teasing than it was flabbergasted, though it held an element of that as well.
“No. Enjoy your snack, I’ll be answering emails inside if you need anything.”
“Really?” She sounded entirely surprised.
“It would be a silly thing to lie-” Damian rolled his eyes, but she interrupted him.
“No, pardon, I’m just surprised. Most people want to ask questions or-”
“Well I suppose that I am not most people. I’ll be indoors now. I have medical supplies as well if you’d like to stop bleeding on my balcony.” Damian declared, and as soon as he was done talking, he walked inside and closed the door behind him.
He heard a knock on the door about an hour later, and Damian went to get it. Ladybug was standing with the empty plate and empty bottle, Titus at her side, in the doorway from the balcony.
“I didn’t want to just come in, but I would feel badly if I just left your dishes outside. Your dog would also like some water I think.” She gave him a small shy smile and despite the door being open, Titus did not let himself in. The dog seemed entirely enamored with her, something incredibly strange to Damian.
“Oh, of course. Feel free to leave it on the counter, I’ll get to it later. Be sure to pet Alfred the Cat on your way out.” Damian decided against investigating her any further. It was the perfect opportunity, but he thought a conversation might be best for another time.
“The cat is Alfred, your dog is Titus and you are…?” She asked, not subtly.
“Damian. Have a good evening Ladybug. Thank you for your efforts keeping the city safe today.” He spoke nonchalantly, well, as nonchalantly as he normally did. Most heroes got bashful and awkward if you indicated gratefulness to them. It was a reliable kryptonite for the majority to leave you alone.
“I do what I can. Thank you for being so kind today, it was a much needed break.” Ladybug replied, graciously taking his thanks in stride.
He nodded his head in reply, not really sure how to interact with her from there. She walked the few steps back to the balcony and gave him a small wave before throwing up her Yo-yo.
“It was nice to meet you Damian, take care!” Her voice so sweetly called out, the full smile gracing her features as if sunlight itself were brightening his view of her.
He called out a small goodbye, and wondered to himself if he might see her again.
Damian had to take a second to recuperate his fast beating heart, unsure as to why he felt so… keen… on the small parisian. Who clearly had no good sense to her, given the droplets of red on his balcony’s concrete floor.
Tt.
What a strange heroine she was.
He hoped for Titus and Alfreds’ sake that she stopped by again sometime.
It was a while later that he ran into a young woman who could fit the description of Ladybug sans mask. He had no evidence, to be sure, but it was such an pleasantly odd interaction that it gave him a solid hunch. He’d solved larger cases with smaller hunches after all.
While on an evening walk with Titus, attempting to get to a proper step count for the four legged animal, Damian decided a small indulgence might be worth while.
Jon had sent it to him on a social media app, which Damian had to then open in a web browser, of a traveling ice-cream truck that provided custom flavors each time you visited. There was a long thread about the individual being a very normal part of the Magic of Paris, and that his work was harmless despite being clearly soul-related spells.
Determined to see if it really was magic, Damian went about his walk around the city with an open mind for running into this so called soulmate parlor. Besides, it had been an unreasonable amount of time since he had gotten a decent vegan ice cream.
It was maybe an hour into their walk, as Damian turned himself and Titus around to walk back for the night, that he saw it.
Andre’s Ice Cream. Well, that was the english equivalent of what it said, Damian wasn’t fluent in french just yet.
It had a somewhat long line, mostly couples attached hand in hand or arms linked together. He could hear proclamations by the owner of the shop about soulmates and being a good fit together. That only pairs of people could find him. Damian nearly scoffed, looking down at Titus, and quietly speaking to the good boy.
“I always knew an animal would be my soulmate. Did you see that Titus, I couldn’t have found this without you.” Damian spoke gently to the dog, laughing to himself just barely over the absurdity. The laugh that joined him sounded like bells.
Turning around, a young woman in a pink work dress and bandages on her knuckles laughed into her hand.
“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, but its kind of ridiculous right? I wish I had a dog, at least I could say the same for finding this place on my own.” She smiled and Damian felt himself return it. Titus sneezed, in that big way that dogs could, relieving Damian’s sudden anxiety spike.
“His name is Titus.” Were the only words that lamely fell out of Damian’s mouth. He hadn’t meant to say it, he also wasn’t meaning to keep staring at the petite woman, but apparently he was tired enough from a long day to make a fool of himself.
“Well hello Titus’ owner. My name is Marinette, I'm glad we were able to find Andre tonight.” She laughed and then the two of them stepped forward into line, only one other couple ahead of Damian and her.
“Agreed, Ms. Marinette. It should be a nice way to end the day, I don’t know the last time I had decent ice cream.” He replied, relaying his earlier thoughts so as to not embarrass himself further.
“Any flavors in mind? Andre says he reads from the soul but sometimes I swear he can just sense what I’m craving.”
“I’m fond of pistachio, though I do hope he has vegan options. My night will be much shorter if he doesn’t.”
“Oh, yeah, he typically does.” Marinette said after a moment of consideration.
“Have you found his parlor a number of times then?”
“When I was younger and more romantic, I was tracking him down every other week.” She laughed.
“As opposed to you being no longer young and no longer romantic now?” Damian questioned, his smirk greeting her to show that he clearly believed the opposite.
“Harr harr. One broken heart later, I suppose I’m just a bit wiser with my romantic notions these days.” Marinette admitted, though the way she said it made him wonder how long ago that broken heart was.
“Well, then I hope he has something special for you. Anything in particular that you were looking for?”
“Hm, Andre normally gives me something green for my soulmate’s eyes. I always look forward to that. Typically its a mint, though that feels a bit old right now.”
“I can’t say I’m a fan of mint ice cream. It makes for a much better tea.” Damian’s mouth twisted into a cringe after he thought about the flavor.
“That's what my friend Nino says! But his family is Moroccan and their mint tea is way sweeter than any of the mint Ice cream than Andre makes!” Marinette laughed
“What’s the flavor you want then? You only said the one you expect.” Damian prompted her once more, not really having a comparable friend story to share. Jon ate all ice cream like a vacuum ate dust.
“Hm.. Maybe something less fruit forward? If i wanted something specific I would have gone to the grocer.” Marinette replied having given it some thought.
“I suppose thats reasonable-” but Damian wasn’t able to finish his reply before the ice cream owner, Andre himself was chuckling.
“You both made it in perfect timing! I’ve already thought over your scoops!” He greeted them loudly and began talking boisterously about finding love in a new city or in a hometown, and how different those could feel. Damian flushed.
“If you have vegan icecream, I’ll be glad to get any of those flavors-”
“But of course, I wouldn’t dream of messing up such a critical detail! For you, a blackberry with dark red cherries sorbet for her loyalties, a hint of lemon for the sunlight you met her in and a scoop of pink strawberry champagne for her kind nature.” The man announced each as he prepared the elaborate dessert for Damian.
As soon as it was done however, the man set it in a small cone holder behind him and began to work on another cone. Damian would have been frustrated if not for the show he was now putting on and the laughs it brought from the young lady in line beside him.
“And for her, An ethically sourced dark chocolate base for his duties, a scoop of pistachio, rosewater and saffron for his growth though green remain the color of his eyes, and a drizzle of a caramelized chai over top for his art. Mari, you’ve finally appeared with the right one this time!” The man laughed.
“Thanks Andre, and keep the change!” Marinette declared and slapped down a few euros before Damian could attempt anything. Andre just handed the cones over to them, once again proclaiming that he had a great success rate for finding and pairing only the finest of soulmates. It made Damian’s mouth run dry, but he needed to ensure that he paid for-
“Son, it’s best you just repay her on the next date.” Andre stopped him, and then promptly went to serve the next couple behind him.
“Pistachios were a new one for the green of his eyes, didn’t you say that it was the flavor you were looking forward to?” Marinette walked away slowly as she asked, her body angled for him to join her, as though she wasn’t walking away from him, just away in general.
“I suppose I did. He must have over heard me telling you and cruelly switched the order.”
“Are you disappointed with yours?”
“Not at all. Thus far it is incredibly delicious.”
“Same. Andre may be a bit zealous with his schtick but at least it never fails to taste great.”
“You said you came when you were younger, how long have you lived in Paris?” He prompted her.
“All my life. It’s a pretty nice hometown if I do say so myself. Where are you from originally?”
“Originally? Somewhere in Pakistan, but I’ve lived with my family in Gotham in the US for the majority of my life now.” Damian explained.
“That must have been a huge change.”
“It was, in more ways than one. I went to live with my biological father only to discover that he had adopted quite a large number of children. It wasn’t a particularly harmonious transition.”
“I’ve always been an only child trying to take in my friends as siblings. It finally worked once we got older and my friend’s parents showed their true colors. But still, it’s one thing to ask for a big family than to suddenly have one.” She volunteered all her own before returning the ball to his court.
“What do you do that keeps you in Paris?” He asked, changing the topic before he revealed more undignified information about himself.
“I work in Fashion, I’m a textile artist of a sort, mostly for my own business but I work as a consultant from time to time. What about you? Did work bring you to Paris?”
“It did. I’m working on finishing my PhD in Historical art preservation. There is hardly a better place in the world to work and study my field than Paris.”
“Huh, I kind of expected you to be a finance bro.” She snickered, her lopsided grin entirely too endearing for her essentially teasing him.
“I am also technically a ‘finance bro’ when I work for my Father’s company remotely.” Domain deflated but was happy to hear her laugh again.
“Well this is my turn, welcome to Paris, er, Titus’ owner.”
“It’s Damian.”
“Well, I hope to see you around Damian. It would be funny for the fates to push us together another time.”
“Ms. Marinette, I don’t think it would be funny at all. I should hope the fates are kind to you though, which ever way you wish for them to push you.”
Marinette smiled, and Damian knew he had seen the smile before. He wished her a good night, and got him and Titus back to his apartment not long after.
Jon was flying around his apartment. It wasn’t even 5 in the morning, and his best friend was flying around his apartment, moving between the kitchen and the small office nook all while chattering about this and that.
Damian wondered if there was a particular time of day that his morals were no longer required. Perhaps 5 am was a time by which it would be perfectly reasonable to commit homicide. He could stick to his ethics and values all 23 other hours of the day. His father would never have to know about five am murder hour.
Jon stopped talking, and Damian realized that he had announced that last thought.
“So are you going to get out of bed and eat breakfast with me then?” Jon asked, apparently not alarmed by Damian’s early morning contemplations but instead just excited that his best friend was awake. Damian only grumbled in response, though he did throw his covers away from him and begin to emerge from the comfort of his bed. Jon whooped in response to the action, the sound of pots and pans being crashed around now accompanying the sounds of flight.
Damian took his sweet time grooming his hair, skin and teeth, as well as picking out an outfit for the day. By the time he was ready to face the challenges of the day, something smelled delicious from the kitchen. Jon however had turned on the TV and was clearly not flying about nor cooking.
“What caught your attention?” Damian prompted his best friend before he could see the title on the screen.
“A couple of explosions about 20 miles from here, I remembered that you said Paris had its own hero so I didn’t fly over right away. I’m not supposed to be on this side of the globe today, so I figured I would watch to see if she needs the help before I rush in and step on her toes.” Jon explained himself, his tone clearly guilty for not helping Ladybug.
“Ladybug is incredibly capable. Besides, most threats in this town appear to be Magical. A weakness of yours that I doubt she would be thrilled to deal with.”
“Have you met her yet?”
“Not formally as Robin, but once here.”
“Here? As in Paris or?”
“As in this apartment. She stopped to play with Alfred the Cat in the window and ended up staying with Titus for a bit as well.”
“Really? Thats so… Weird.” Jon called it as he saw it but also appeared entirely giddy about the prospect.
“She’s known to stop and play with cats.”
“That is so adorable! Did you make friends with her when she was here?”
Damian replied with a vacant stare. He then focused his attention on turning off the stove, all breakfast items now addressed and the table set for them to eat. The last item on the docket was to make a pot of coffee to drown in, to be awake this early meant embodying the worst of his elder siblings talents. For Dick, it was his talent to handle having friends, as exemplified by Jon’s persisting presence. For Jason, it was his desire to commit homicide. And for Tim, it was the existential dread that filled him at the prospect of not consuming coffee.
He got the machine running and immediately felt better.
“Well, what’s on the agenda for today? I only have a few hours before I have to get back to Metropolis for a meeting.”
“You are the one that invited yourself into my apartment, what did you wish to accomplish today?” Damian snarked back at his friend.
“You’re not like, busy with work?”
“It’s a Saturday, Jon.” Damian once again deadpanned.
“Oh right. Sorry, interplanatery travel has me all mixed up. Are there any big tourist things you’ve neglected?”
“I suppose it might be nice to visit the catacombs.” Damian hummed in thought.
“Of course you’d want to go see the dead bodies. Anyone ever tell you that you’re a bit of a goth?”
“You have. Many times.”
“Right, and I was- Hm?”
“What?”
“A rapid heartbeat is coming closer to here, like super fast.”
Ladybug landed on his balcony not long after. She clearly was looking for Alfred when she first appeared, but not seeing him (for the cat was still asleep on Damian’s bed) she sat down on the edge of the wrought iron.
“Her heart rate is slowing down, but dude… She’s broken like, way too many bones to be that functional.” Jon finally replied. He had the decency to be startled by her presence.
Although she had only been by the one time while Damian was home, he had suspected she stopped by more often than he realized. This appeared to be the proof he was looking for. Sighing, Damian simply stood up and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a second mug and filling it with coffee.
He wondered if she would hate it considering the fact that it was an american style drink and not one made from espresso or more sophisticated techniques.
Without acknowledging Jon’s statement, he walked across the small apartment and opened the door to his balcony without a word. The heroine startled, nearly falling from the balcony’s ledge when the sound of the door opening alarmed her.
“Coffee?” Was the one word question that Damian presented to her, and her wide eyes seemed to shrink with a tired happiness.
“Sure.” Was her one word reply, gratefulness apparent and soft in tone. Damian handed her the mug, and unfortunate but true, their fingers did not touch via this hand off.
“Wanna come in for breakfast?” Jon called out over Damian’s shoulder, the idiot was still floating.
“...You can fly?” She blinked a few times looking at his best friend, clearly not believing what she was seeing. As soon as she asked her question, though it really should have come with a greater shock value, she took a sip front he mug.
“Ope, yep. Sorry.” Jon’s hand was thrown back over his shoulder, resting at the nape of his neck. Ladybug looked at the action with a sense of familiarity, and her smile appeared.
“Well, weirder things have happened this early in the morning. What’s for breakfast?” Ladybug swiveled her legs over the inside of the balcony, and jumped down. Damian stepped back into the apartment and let Jon rattle off the very traditional american breakfast items.
“No maple syrup though. And here I thought that the french canadians still had good enough relations with France to do some decent and essential trading.” Was how Jon ended his monologue. Ladybug took her seat beside Damian and laughed with Jon, explaining that she’d had it before and totally agreed.
Damian ate in silence, processing the two extroverts become clearly comfortable talking to one another. He wondered how this might end, no clear progression in sight.
Alfred the cat emerged from the bed room and took his sweet time to rub between Damian’s legs under the table before heading to his food bowl. Ladybug stopped laughing with Jon to admire the small furry creature.
“Alfred’s so cute! I just love that cat!” She admonished, resting her head into her hand which was propped up by her elbow on the table.
“Alfred the cat is the best! I was so glad Damian was able to get him a little cat passport to come with him to france!”
“Wait, is his full name Alfred the Cat?” She asked, suddenly recognizing that that was how the cat was initially introduced as well.
“There is also Alfred the human back home, the cat has a full title to prevent any confusion in Gotham.” Damian supplied, it being the first true sentence he had said to her this morning.
“That is adorable.” Ladybug looked at him with full seriousness in her eyes as she said it verbatim.
“So it’s Ladybug right? When are you going to join the JL?” Jon abruptly asked, pulling the two out of a weird impromptu staring contest that had started after her last word.
“Hm? The JL?”
“YOu know, the Justice League?”
“Oh. No. Why would I do that?”
“You do not wish for international recognition or support?” Damian asked her before Jon could get another word in.
“I mean, I’ve heard that their support for Magic related issues were kind of, er, lacking.”
“How so?”
“I’ve met Constantine before.”
“Ah.” Was Damians response. THere was no need to continue the conversation at that point. The disastrous Hell Blazer never left good impressions, and his status in the league was… reflective. Damian thought that with Captain Marvel joining that there would be a better sense of reliability in their image but evidently that was not the case.
“What about non-magical issues? Surely the JL could help you when those come about?” Jon prompted.
“I mean, I can handle those for the most part. Plus, when I get involved, property damage is incredibly small with my final reconstruction spell.”
“Don’t you-”
“Jon. If she hasn’t been clear enough already, she is not interested. Leave the topic be.”
“Thanks.” Ladybug replied, her smile was sincere on her face as she looked at Damian.
“So what brings you by then Ladybug? Surely you didn’t just stop by to pet Alfred the cat?”
“Oh, no. That’s all I had planned on.”
“Are you not getting enough social support in your day to day?” Jon asked, clearly his reporter mode was online. Damian was pretty sure he knew where his best friend was digging towards, and mentally prepared to intervene.
“Why do you ask?” She replied, her tone a bit icy.
“Just that, most heroes would have headed straight back to bed after such an early morning fight. I heard those bombs go off, it couldn’t have been a simple battle.”
“You heard them go off but didn’t come to help?”
“He is not meant to be in town, and clearly he’s not in uniform. But unfortunately he does make a good point. Are you staying in costume for longer because you do not feel connected to your own personal time any longer? It’s a common experience.”
“...” She didn’t say anything as she processed what he had said and what the implications were.
“...I don’t like going back right away. I don’t have a pet and sometimes it’s nice to pretend that the window cats are my own.”
“Why prolong your time in your super suit? Surely you’re not avoiding being your civilian self who could easily also admire cats from their windows.”
“Do you want me to stop coming by?” Ladybug questioned, there wasn’t any bite to it, but Damian immediately regretted his words.
“I simply mean to say that burnout can be addressed differently. If it helps you to spend time with Alfred the Cat, then by all means, consider my balcony open to you.” Damian back tracked, and Jon seemed to go wide eyed for a minute.
“Any suggestions for cutting the line at the catacombs?”
“Oh, uh, yeah when I went for a school trip there was-” And ladybug prattled on about her experience, clearly happy to have moved away from the conversation.
Alfred the cat jumped into Damian’s lap, folding himself into a small loaf by which Damian could pet him from head to tail in a single motion. He held his coffee cup in one hand and continued to pet Alfred with the other, not fully sure how he felt about Jon and Ladybug’s interactions.
From his angle as Robin, he got why Jon was trying to get her involved in the JL. Jon hated identity politics, always had, though they got worse when he wasn’t able to truly attempt a four year college because he was so recognizable. If Ladybug joined the JL, or even stated her clear intentions to join, then Jon would openly admit to being Superboy and making friends with her that way.
From his angle as Damian, he wasn’t sure why Jon was digging at the unhealthy coping mechanism. It wasn’t as if they didn’t all have something they did as heroes to try and make the day less brutal.
“Damian, what do you think about that?” Jon’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Hm?”
“Ladybug giving us a tour of the city’s rooftops?”
“Why would I join in on that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Jon retorted.
“Can I pet Alfred?” Ladybug prompted, her voice clearly tired. Damian just nodded, grabbing the cat around his midsection and lifting him up. Damian quickly placed the cat onto Ladybug’s lap, her joy on bright display as the cat accepted his fate and laid down peacefully across her legs.
Damian, now standing, grabbed the plates from the table and took them to the kitchen. Jon continuing to talk Ladybug’s ear off about something tourist related.
“I’m going to the park to draw. Ladybug, feel free to stay with Alfred the cat while you please.” Damian spoke over them for just a second, Titus already seated and waiting for his leash to be put on him for his morning walk. It was still earlier than Damian took the dog out, and he had been such a good boy while everyone was in Damain’s apartment.
“What park?”
“Whichever one I end at after walking Titus.” Was Damian’s simple reply. He threw his tote bag, containing all matter of art supplies, over his shoulder and began to open the front door with Titus in tow.
“Am I coming with you?” Jon asked.
“I don’t see why you wouldn’t.” Damian huffed, closing and locking the front door behind him. Walking out onto the street, Jon ‘jumped’ down from the balcony. Ladybug gave a small wave, Alfred the cat in her arms, before turning to walk back into his apartment.
“So woah! You’re like, way too comfy with leaving her in your place! You sure nothing is going on between you two?”
“I have nothing incriminating there. The worst thing she could find would be a small key in the middle of the mattress that goes to a safe house across town that has all of my gear. And I highly doubt she is attempting to snoop.”
“You just, like, trust her?”
“She’s the savior of Paris. She can do as she pleases and Alfred the Cat enjoys her company.”
“Hm. I don't buy it but whatever. Any thoughts on how to pull her into the International Justice League? Maybe talking to Ice? She always seems really sweet.”
“You always forget how vengeful Ice is. But no. If Ladybug has no desire to join, then I have no desire to push her into it.”
“Not even so you could moonlight with her? Bring her home to Gotham and introduce her to Alfred?”
“Her meeting Alfred the cat is more than sufficient. I don’t like the leaps your implications are taking.”
“Dames, my guy-”
“What of your new love interest then?” Damian challenged him.
“Bwah?”
“Or should I bring up how Timothy and Kon are getting pretty serious.” He leveled Jon with an unamused glare.
“Dude, he’s like my big brother, don’t-” Jon’s defenses crumbled into younger-sibling-patented-whining.
“Then I suggest you stop. You know that I'll inform you should things change. Do not pester me about what is obvious at present.”
“I mean, I know that Dames. I just worry. Sometimes you look a gift horse in the mouth when all you need to do is try to feed it carrots.”
“Coincidentally, I believe I have indeed fed Ladybug carrots.”
“You made her snacks?” Jon asked, bemused by the idea that Damian collected friends with the same methods he used to rescue wild animals.
“It seemed appropriate. She was bleeding on my balcony.”
“Man, Alfred really did raise you.”
“We all know that I didn’t learn hospitality from my Father of all people.” Damian rolled his eyes.
Jon flew off after they hung out in the park some more. Jon had filled him in on their interplanetary diplomatic missions while Damian took in the landscape for his charcoal drawings. Titus, having received a long walk, simply slept at Damian’s feet.
Jon’s alarm went off, informing him that he now had less than 15 minutes to fly across the globe and be ready for his meetings, and Damian walked home.
He hadn’t expected her to still be at his apartment.
Walking up the stairs, he could hear the faint sounds of a television, and walking into the apartment he saw that it was his own. Across from the quietly playing movie was a body covered by his navy blue blanket, Alfred the Cat sleeping in a donut on her stomach.
She had her face half hidden by her bare arm, her eyes deep in the crook of her elbow, and her mouth parted as she gently snored. Ladybug, or more accurately this unnamed woman, was no longer wearing a supersuit and instead seemed to be in a pastel colored short sleeve blouse. He decided to ignore how this very small impression of her identity was…familiar.
Damian felt no need to disturb her sleep, and considering his priorities, he decided that a nap wasn’t a horrible idea.
He cleaned the few dishes left in his sink from breakfast, and contemplated the various realities ahead of him. He could wake her up, learning her true identity. He could leave her be and go nap in his room. He could go sit on his balcony with a book, missing her face if she woke up and transformed to leave. He could accidentally drop the plate he was washing and startle her up.
Going for a short nap seemed like the ideal option.
“...Is that you Damian?” Was the small voice that came from the couch. Looking over to the living room, he saw her hands both covering her face.
“It is. And please feel reassured that I did not see your face.”
“You didn’t peek?”
“Not in the slightest. Uncovering your identity is not anywhere near my priority list.”
“Oh.” Her voice was soft but the surprise appeared to be mostly of relief.
“I’ll be in my bedroom should you need me. Please turn off the Tv when you go.” He replied nonchalantly.
“Could we… talk for a second?”
“That is what we are currently doing, yes.” Damian said, knowing where exactly this conversation might go in a post-meeting Jon world.
“Um, right. It’s just that, your friend… is he Superboy?”
“Do you expect me to give you a straight answer?” Damian deflected.
“Right, no. Of course not. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” He assured her.
“Erm, so are you just like, friends with heroes then?” Her voice had a bit of her normal humor back to it.
“Are you worried that I will try to befriend you?” Sue him, Damian was entertained by the notion. Endeared even.
“Not worried, um, but I would like to be friends. It can be hard with the mask to meet people who, uh, get it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you know, the strange hours. Suddenly disappearing, always rushing away at random, always being at risk.”
“I see. Yes, I do in fact ‘get it’.” He replied without elaborating. If she noticed him not adding more to the context, she didn’t bring it up.
Ladybug stayed silent for a moment after that. Damian walked over to his room, leaving her alone in the living room. He could hear the blanket shuffle and Alfred meow at her movement.
“...Is it okay if I stop by more often? To play with Alfred the cat? Or to talk?” She asked, her voice uncertain and small.
“It is.” And with that Damian closed his door and tried to lay down to sleep.
Eventually exhaustion got the better of him, and when he woke up to a midday alarm to walk Titus, he found his apartment was empty of her company.
The notion that it was emptier without her was… odd.
The next time she came by, she brought gifts. In fact, every time she stopped by there seemed to be a new gift lying about his apartment.
The majority of the time it was a small dessert, a treat here or there. Months had gone by and the season was changing but the habit continued.
As the fall started to set in, she had made him a custom pair of gloves that he decided against asking about why exactly they fit so well.
Sometimes, however, there were nights that she needed to talk. And those were the nights where she would appear with a makeshift mask and two bottles of wine. She insisted on bringing two, so they had one to drink together and she could leave him with the other as an actual parting gift.
Damian at first, thought the gifts were…cute. They held no meaning and were simple favors that she showed him in exchange for giving her refuge with his animals after terror attacks or the like. But over time, he began to feel woefully unprepared to receive them and began collecting small things to exchange with her.
Just things that he would see around town or at farmers markets. As he supplied snacks, it became clear his shopping choices had changed, and more often than not he was collecting small cat themed figures or items.
He had just received a cat clock from the mail, something he had ordered while they had ‘phone time’ one night. It had been a nasty battle and she had brought them both icecream. She didn’t want to talk but it was clear that she couldn’t be alone. He ordered it the second he saw the advertisement.
They were each a glass into the bottle on one particular wine night that he finally asked. They weren’t on opposite sides of his couch but they weren’t sitting directly in one anothers space, the tv program they had compromised on had gone to commercial.
“Your spotted suit, it used to just be spots, correct? What are the stripes that start from your shoulder?” His tone wasn’t particularly curious nor was it demanding, but he would have taken back the question in a heart beat when he saw the look on her face.
“Oh. Um, they aren’t stripes.” Her voice sounded small. Breakable.
“I apologize if-” Damian attempted to course correct but she cut him off.
“No. No it’s fine, and honestly, it might be good for me to say it out loud. I don’t know if I ever have…”
Damian stayed silent, she took a sip from her glass and then set it down on the coffee table next to his.
“Erm. I used to have a partner, back when I got started. We were both 14, and pretty young and dumb. Naive to how evil the world really was, but you know, doing our best to play hero.” She reminisced, before her face grimaced.
“He uh, didn’t know it when he’d been chosen, but his dad was the reason we were in this whole mess. And his dad had him like, sleeper cell trained. The magic equivalent of it anyway.” Her voice began to shake.
“Chat, his full title was Chat Noir. The unlucky match to my power over luck. He always made jokes and kidded around, we fell in love. Saved the day. Things were great.” The small smile on her lips faded quickly.
“And then Gabriel happened. Once he figured out that Chat was Ad- His son, he used him as a tool against me, against all of us. Transformed him into Chat Blanc. And then Chat Blanc nearly killed me… the stripes are from the spell of destruction, his cataclysm, on each of his finger tips as he scratched me.” Ladybug wiped a few tears that were threatening to fall, and missed a few that did.
“Where is he now? How did you help him?”
“I… He’s fine. But we’re… not friends anymore. The last attack had been the end of Hawkmoth's reign, and with the destruction he caused and the guilt he felt at me being hurt he… he gave up his magic.”
“I see. Is he living a normal life then?” Damian asked.
“I think so. We still have some mutual friends so I get notifications every now and then. He’s doing a physics PhD right now and I think he’s met someone. He deserves to be happy after everything his dad did to try and ruin his future.”
Ladybug sighed, and Damian couldn’t help himself but to pull his arm around her shoulders. She rested her head down on his shoulder, scooting closer to lean into him. It was a small comfort.
“I think it might be valuable to hear this, so please don’t take my words as anything more, but: You also deserve happiness, Ladybug.” Damian said after a moment.
The TV was still muted but was no longer on commercial break. The old timey detective story came back on, the drama unfolding in black and white and the only noise in the room came from their shared breathing.
Ladybug didn’t respond, but Damian didn’t press her to. He could tell she was crying, but from which emotion he didn’t know.
Eventually, he turned the TV volume back on, and they silently watched the movie. She curled further into his side, and at some point Alfred the cat had jumped back onto the couch and nestled into a small ball on Damian’s lap. He noticed that he was falling asleep around the same time that he noticed her small snores.
Waking up alone on his couch the next day felt…brutal.
“Damian! I’m so glad you’re here!” Ladybug announced, launching herself into his living room from her yo-yo’s leverage on his roof. He’d started a habit of keeping the door open once Alfred the Cat had proven to be trustworthy enough not to use this as a means of escape. The autumn air was too pleasant to keep locked away.
“I do in fact live here.” He replied, sitting at his kitchen counter, not fully acknowledging her as he finished sending an email.
“Are you going to ask why I’m glad you’re here?” She prompted, and he could hear the mischief in her voice. Sometimes she reminded him of Stephanie.
“Are you going to tell me regardless of my asking?” He inquired, now turning back to her and away from his screen.
“No fun. Play the game.” She leveled him with a deadpan stare.
“Why are you excited that I am present in my place of residence?”
“Because, I got you these! Two tickets to an outdoor concert performance of your favorite composer!” Her smile lit up the room and sure enough in her hands were two rectangular pieces of paper.
“How did you come across them?” He marveled as he collected them from her hands. They were everything they promised to be and more. But something… something sat oddly in his stomach about this gift.
“I stayed up until three in the morning refreshing my page for them to go on sale, since the tour website server is out in the middle of the ocean apparently and staying up until midnight wasn't enough.” She laughed and rolled her eyes.
“...Why?” Damian hadn’t really meant to ask it, but the small word escaped his mouth before he could trap it.
“Why? Cause I knew that you would love to see them and we had just talked about it the other night and-”
“Why do you do this?” Damian attempted to follow up, but still remained hopelessly far away from the deeper question his subconscious wanted him to ask. Something he was afraid to know the answer to.
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“The gift giving. You’ve done it ever since you met Jon and started coming over.” Damian clarified.
“I just like to give gifts. And you’re not guilt free of it either! You’ve given me so many things in the last few months!”
“I…Nevermind. Thank you. This was a more than generous gift, you really should have gotten some sleep instead.”
“Really?”
“Yes, your well being-” Damian began to overexplain by method of not talking about what was really bothering him about the situation.
“Did I overstep a line?” Ladybug asked, a bit concerned.
“Wh- No?”
“You don’t seem sure.” She deadpanned.
“I… suppose I am not. It bothers me that you would go to such lengths when I have not initiated the same efforts on my end.”
“It's not a competition to be my friend. I like to give gifts, it's my love language.”
Damian’s brain, though understanding the concepts of the five basic love languages, caught and snared on the word Love as though it was the only thing she had spoken. Love…Love. Love? Love!?
Damian quickly tried to deflect his attention anywhere that wasn’t her bright blue eyes, and found himself staring at the tickets. Re reading the information printed on them several times over.
“So we’re going on the 18th then.” He said it simply enough, it was an easy fact to latch onto and ground his panic.
“I mean, you definitely are.” She side stepped.
“You’re not joining me?” He asked, his confusion was mixed with a sense of alarm and a sense of hurt.
“It’s your gift! You can bring whoever you’d like. Maybe your friend Jon? Or like, a cute date?” She tried to play it off as though her suggestion was something they had talked about before, something totally normal. It wasn’t though. Normal or something they had discussed, neither had broached the topic of dating.
“Jon couldn’t sit still long enough to get through a single song much less an artistic composition.” Damian decidedly did not want to repeat the word ‘Date’ outloud, and deflected as best as he could.
“Well then, I hope you find someone! I’ll be heading out though, I just stopped by to deliver them on my way across town.”
“...You’re serious. You’re not going to accompany me with the ticket you purchased?”
“I mean, I can’t go as Ladybug. You deserve a nice night out with someone who will appreciate it, if I go with you it’s basically going to end with either (a) painting a target on your back to any rouges watching or (b) you not enjoying it.” She was looking past him, just over his shoulder as she said it, her eyes not daring to meet his own.
“Why wouldn’t I enjoy it with you?” He challenged her. It felt like he was on the cusp of actually asking what he wanted the answer to.
“It's a romantic candle lit performance in a historic park, you should take a date.” Ladybug argued, though her voice was now shaking. She was frustrated with him, clearly, but her ire didn’t make it all the way to her eyes.
“You can wear a mask, a lower face mask, and accompany me.” Damian replied definitively, a course of action.
“Damian, that’s not-” She protested, her frustration clearly ready to boil over.
“Fine.” He grabbed her hand back and placed the tickets back onto her palm.
“Wha-” She started but he cut her off, “I believe we’re done exchanging gifts. Goodbye.” He said curtly, practically herding her out of the balcony door and then closing it behind her.
He kept the door closed and locked for a few days after that.
On the morning of the 18th, an envelope had been taped to his balcony door. It simply said ‘sorry’ on its front, and contained a single concert ticket.
When he arrived and took his seat, Damian could admit that he was hopeful that he might meet her. That she really would wear a lower face mask, and it could just be the two of them out for the night. That they could get ice cream after and discuss how much they enjoyed it. That he could express his joy towards going on a date with her.
A tall blonde woman took the seat next to him and was on her phone the entire time before and after each performance.
He did, however, decide to go back to leaving the door open. It really was a wonderful autumnal concert.
Winter in Paris was beautiful.
The two of them were wrapped in a single, large, blanket on his balcony as it gently snowed. The angle of his outside space meant that they weren’t being bombarded by wind. They peacefully shared warmth of the blanket and their mugs of mulled wine, a small speaker playing classical compositions they both liked.
“Would you mind watching Titus and Alfred for a few days? I have a short trip to Gotham that I need to make before the holidays and it would-”
“Of course! He likes me enough to behave on our walks. I’ll just stay over so I can get up early enough to walk him in the mornings.”
“Thank you.” was all Damian replied.
She’d started staying over just recently. It was clear how the cold affected her abilities, that she was weaker because of the weather. And he had enough space in his one bedroom apartment to lend her his couch rather than send her home so late.
The only downside is that Alfred the cat had started sleeping between her legs instead of his own. The traitor.
The truth was also this: he had a mission that Robin needed to be on, and it wasn’t going to be a simple one. He’d taken shorter espionage missions this whole time, never being gone for longer than an evening or a day. But this particular issue had been brought to him by Timothy, and it was best that he addressed it before his older brother went alone, sleep deprived and willing to kill them all.
“What are your plans for the holidays?” She asked him, pulling him out of his mission thoughts.
“Oh. My siblings and I all return to the family home for dinner. It’s not a very big affair, so I shouldn’t be gone for long.”
“You're going to spend more time there for work than you are for family?”
“In my defense, I will see my family while I am there for work.” This was a lie. He was going to be on a different planet entirely.
“Oh, I guess that makes sense. Bring me back a souvenir?”
“If I have the time to grab you something, I will.” Damain promised, and she rested her head back into the crook of his neck. Cuddling closer for warmth or for comfort, he couldn’t tell. But he was both warmer and more comfortable now that she’d moved so he wouldn’t be complaining.
He texted her the dates, just three, and promised her a souvenir. She teased him about something innocuous and he laughed as the snow fell.
She made sure to kiss both sides of his face in a ‘proper Parisian’ farewell before she left. They were both pink from sitting in the cold anyway, it’s not like it changed anything.
When he appeared on day four, a bandages on his forehead from an injury and other obvious wounds, Ladybug was pissed.
“You don’t come home on time, I text you about flight changes and then you appear half dragged from the grave?” She furiously called out.
“Thank you for watching Titus and Alfred, they both seem well.” He weary appraised his animals now that the door was closed behind him.
“Yeah, yeah, they’re great. But what the fuck-”
“I’m really sorry to say it, but your voice being this loud is not pleasant with my concussion.” Damian spoke softer than she had ever heard before, but his tone was solid.
“Damian what in the world happened to you? Why didn’t you call me for help?”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to lay down now. It’s Alfred’s orders.”
“...Right. Human Alfred. Okay.” Ladybug looked as though she was at odds with herself.
“Is there any way I can help you before I go? Titus won't need a walk for another couple of hours, I can stop by if you’d like-”
“No worries. I will walk him in the afternoon. Bye Ladybug.” Damian replied, and then closed his bedroom door just so. It wasn’t fully closed, Titus would be letting himself in the moment Ladybug left after all, but it was enough to get her off of his trail.
Damian set a timer on his phone to wake him up in time for more pain management and to walk Titus. Uncomfortable with the clothing on top of his bandages, Damian removed his layers down to his underwear. It wouldn’t be fun to redress in a few hours, but that would be a problem for future him.
Alien ray guns had gotten a number of hits on him, and he had the sutures and burned skin to show for it. Sleep came to him greedily, and he welcomed the black nothingness behind his eyes.
His alarm seemed to go off in a second, and following its noise was a gasp. A gasp which was out of the vocal range of both Titus and Alfred the cat.
Lifting a heavy eyelid open, he saw Ladybug in his door way, her eyes wide with terror as she stared at him.
He had two options: Jump up and pretend to be fine, demanding his privacy or to simply ignore her horror and ask that she take Titus out after all. The decision was made for him when she gave a small pat to her leg and his dog jumped off of the bed to go with her.
He listened as the front door unlocked and relocked, and then unlock again a bit later. Alfred the Cat nestled near his side, not touching the gauze, and the cat’s content purrs were heaven sent.
Damian wasn’t fully awake when he felt the bed dip with the weight of Titus at his feet. He meant to call out a short ‘thank you’ or anything to acknowledge her and her help but he was sinking back into sleep.
He didn’t know if it was a dream or not. The shaky breath or the lips that gently pressed against his own.
The next day he was up and well enough to take Titus on a short walk to a dogpark, from there he let the dog free run without him to get enough exercise. Damian hated to be literally benched, but it was all he felt up to.
When he returned to the apartment, Ladybug was there and mashing buttons on his coffee machine.
“You have to hit the smaller one first.” Was all he said in greeting, closing the door behind him and letting Titus off of the lead.
“I don’t know why these stupid things never like me.” But as soon as she pressed it, the machine buzzed to life.
“You have the worst luck with machines. I’d love a mug if you don’t mind.”
“Do you have decaf?”
“No?” He asked, curious as to why she would want that. She was such a caffeine junkie that he dreaded her ever meeting Timothy.
“Well, aren’t you going to bed in just a second? I can walk Titus again this afternoon.” Ladybug seemed to be pleading to help him, her eyes were wide with concern.
“I have some work to do, I might as well have coffee to go with it.”
“Damian.. You... Hm. Your wounds. They aren’t trivial.”
“They certainly don’t feel that way either.” He grumbled, displeased with the direction this conversation was taking.
“What happened to you? Who did this to you?”
“You don’t want the answer to that.” Damian chuckled to himself, and admittedly, it was better than expressing how frustrated he was.
“Why-”
“You know who my best friend is.” He cut her off. Sure it had been months since she first after Jon’s identity as Superboy, but really, did he need to spell it out to her? He knew how clever she was.
“What does Jon have to do with this? Did he know about this?”
“As I said, you do not want to know.” His frustration came out in full force this time.
“Damian, I’m just worried. Please, just give me something so I don’t feel like a crazy person for wanting to take care of you and never let you back into the world alone ever again.”
“That would be crazy.” He huffed, attempting a patented ‘Dick Oldest Sibling Wayne’ method of deflecting.
“Damian.” Her voice didn’t waiver, and her eyes appeared to be scanning him for each and every microexpression.
“...Okay. But you wanted to know.” Damian replied simply, his voice fighting off his frustration but his exhaustion cutting out any doubt in his mind.
Damian walked over to his bag and grabbed a single batarang. He set it down on the counter and slid it over to her, walking back to his room the second it met her hand.
“What does-”
“Enjoy your souvenir. Though I suppose it technically doesn’t count, given the fact that I’ve had it on me the whole time I’ve been in Paris.” Damian clarified, and then closed his bedroom door behind him.
Alfred was sleeping in his window seat the next time she stopped by. It was only the day after he essentially gave up his identity, but she merely played with the cat before leaving. It felt like regression.
Later that night she came by with a bottle of wine and some dessert. She knocked on his balcony door, making it his decision to invite her in, rather than following her standard protocol of coming in anyway.
“Ladybug.” Was all Damian said to greet her, and she gave him a small smile in return.
“Is now a good time to talk?” She didn’t hesitate for a second when asking, but as soon as all the words were out of her mouth her shoulder rose upwards in a cringing motion.
“I suppose it is.”
“If you’re not comfortable I can-” Ladybug began to try again, but these were not the right words to use given his acetaminophen acclimated attitudes.
“I’ve been uncomfortable since the second you demanded to know more. Go ahead.” He hadn’t meant to start this conversation so brusquely but it was out of his mouth before he could retract it. She cringed but proceeded with a simple statement of fact.
“You’re Robin.”
“And you are Ladybug.” He deadpanned.
“...Were you ever going to tell me? Or did I just force your hand?” Her voice wasn’t as callous as it could have been, but it was clear she was frustrated with having this information. Upset at herself for the potential that she had fundamentally cracked their foundation.
“Had you revealed your own identity I would have shared but, No. It was not my intention to inform you.” His answer appeared to break a dam in her, her emotions now bubbling up to the surface. Panic consumed her features, followed by a scared look of uncertainty.
“Do you… do you want to know who I am?”
“No.” Damian all but announced it, speaking clearly and with eyes trained on her intensely.
“Really?” was her surprised response, asked before she could even think about it.
“It’s not appropriate for me to ask that of you.” Damian all but rolled his eyes and grumbled the message.
“Would you be mad if I told you anyway?”
“Why would you do that?” Damian challenged.
“Why do you think?” She challenged back, though her eyes were still wide with concern.
“...We’ve built a rapport with one another and your sense of guilt for knowing my identity is commendable, but I assure you that it is misplaced. So long as you’re not sharing my identity anytime soon, we’ll be fine.” Damian attempted to end the conversation.
“What’s your definition of fine?” She practically begged to know. Damian felt his stomach flip, he knew he couldn’t answer her without revealing his disappointments, his hopes and his fears. That was too many emotions for a bat to process, he needed to deflect.
“So you simply came here to interrogate me.” His eyes leveled her, and the sense of guilt rose up like bile in her throat.
“No! No, Damian, I… I came here to fix this. I pushed you and now I know too much. I think… I think I was just hopeful that you would push me back and I would share my identity as though I had no option but to make it fair.”
“You have more agency than that.” his voice dripped with disappointment.
“Damian…How do you think things, erm, might change between us? If you knew my identity?” Ladybug attempted to persevere, changing the direction away from her shortcomings.
“In what way? Your character would not change nor would mine.” Domain shrugged.
“No, I mean, between us. ” She said, now clarifying, and holding his eye contact for just a moment before he looked away.
“...We’re friends. You’ve made it clear that there is nothing more than that. Nothing would change other than you would have to walk in through the front door with a spare key.”
“I’ve made it clear?” She seemed a bit surprised by his response.
“You have. I’m done with this conversation, feel free to spend time with Alfred, I’m going back to bed.”
“Wait! Damian, I’m sorry.”
Damian didn’t move nor did his frustrated glare leave his face. He didn’t need this heartbreak. He should have never let her into his personal space and into his heart. He could admit that much. Jon had seen the writing on the wall, ever the more emotionally intelligent between them, and Damian had been foolish enough to ignore it.
A flash of light filled the room, and suddenly her spots and stripes were no longer. Instead, she was in a sensible black business dress with black tights and pink heels, her hair now unfurled in curls from her pigtails. And she lifted her head to gaze at him, her expression one of guilt and anticipation. Her hands practically wringing her fingers out.
She opened her mouth to speak, but shut it, not entirely sure what to say. Damian just stared at her, before turning away.
“Goodnight.”
He closed the door behind him.
And for all of his appearance of strength, his heart was breaking. She didn’t want this. Ladybug embodied balance, she just wanted their exchange to be fair.
“Damian, I need you to know that I’m sorry.” Her soft, somber voice came from the other side of the door.
“I’ve been a bad friend to you because I’ve been trying to pretend like I’ve not been in love with you for months.” Her voice caught but he heard her clearly. He heard her but his mind was processing, his body whipped around to stare at the door that he exiled her behind.
“It wasn’t fair of me, and I know I took it too far. I was afraid, and I don’t think I’ve been more cowardly in my whole life.” Her words were now choked with tears, and Damian opened the door. Slowly.
She slowly turned around, her hands desperately trying to wipe the tears away from falling down her face, as she peered up at Damian.
“...Do you mean that?” His voice was barely over a whisper.
She nodded her head up and down somberly.
And before he could stop himself, he grabbed her into a hug. His arms pressed her into him, but he ignored the hiss of pain that shot through each of his wounds as he did so. She gentle grabbed around his midsection, clearly with a better mind to avoid his injuries, but with just as much clamoring once she determined she wouldn’t hurt him.
“ I accept your apology. Feel free to keep your spare key.” He spoke into her hair, his head resting atop her own, his height working to his every advantage. Her hum of agreement resonated between his ribs.
They stood there, holding one another, for longer than either anticipated.
“My name is-”
“Miss Marinette.” He replied and she took a step back but not fully out of their embrace, obviously spooked, so he carried on, “We were supposedly soulmate matched by a magic Ice cream salesman. It was memorable to say the least.”
“You… You’re… Huh.” She blinked a few times, amazed that he would remember her name from that summer night so many months ago. She’d been careful to avoid him out of her spots after she met Jon, and even that felt so long ago, she presumed he would have forgotten that night and her name all together.
“What?”
“I should have known better than to second guess Andre.” She half grinned, and he was happy to see it.
“That’s your take away?” He huffed, his tone dis-believing but good natured all the same.
“Mmhmm.” Her smile was pressed closed, and she leaned back into his embrace once more. Once more, the feeling of being close was more than enough, but the flame of an unknown future burned brightly.
He broke from their embrace, quickly excusing his need to sit down for his injuries.
“Are you staying the night?” Damian asked her, and he could see her quick wit before he heard her response.
“Can’t I stay forever?” She laughed.
“That can be arranged.”
Their nights were quiet.
Ladybug and Robin would have been seen running across the rooftops, and surprisingly, the Parisian people had already accepted him as one of their own. Ladybug teased that he hadn’t spoken enough broken French for them to judge him yet, Robin remained silent.
They returned to his place, as they often did, and tended to their wounds as they unpacked the mission details. She would then switch to petting Alfred the cat while getting ready for bed, and he would take Titus out for a short walk. He made sure that Titus received ample attention and took care of his needs, but he found the anticipation of knowing Marinette was going to be comfortable on the couch when he got back was incredibly motivating to return promptly.
Normally she would pick something out, noise already filling the space when he walked in. Sometimes she would be prepping a snack in the kitchen with something pulled up. Other times even, she would be on the phone with her mom or a friend in the bedroom and he would be left to try and find something on his own.
Surely she would be fine with rewatching that nature documentary that he loves? (She doesn’t mind at all, but loves that it bothers him, so she teases him about expanding his pallet for cinema as she relearns facts about animals and the rainforest.)
They talk a bit more.
They drink a few glasses of wine.
They fall asleep in his bed, a cat tucked between them and a dog at their feet.
Slowly, gifts start appearing between them again. But it's never for one person or the other, it’s for both of them.
Damian buys her flowers but they sit on his kitchen aisle until they wilt, and then he buys the next ones she picks out at the farmers market and so on. He enjoys them immensely, and the flowers always last longer when she visits.
She buys him new cheeses and foods, expanding his vegetarian diet while staying true to his more vegan inclined tendencies. Small things here or there that slowly fill up his pantry, snacks they open while watching movies or playing video games. She enjoys them too, though she’s certainly glad he doesn’t mind when she eats her more traditional meals at his home.
He buys her video games. She kills him in them. She brings him suits from her newest line. He practically breaks her heart when he puts them on.
At one point, they’d stayed up way too late, Damian realized.
It was past midnight and her head was resting on his chest, her hair moving ever so slightly when he exhaled. The winter was almost over, but her warmth was everything to him on a night like this. A night after busting a drug ring, of being battered and bruised, of filing league reports and then leaning into her touch as she pulled him closer and away from his computer.
“You know that I love you, correct?” Damian speaks, knowing that she is just as reluctant to fall asleep as he is, but his voice is quiet enough that if she didn’t reply he could respect her choice to ignore him.
“Mmhmm.” She hums back, though her grip around him constricts for a second and her breath leaves her in a calm and lengthy way.
“Good.” It's the only thought he has before he’s out like a light.
Marinette practically springs out of bed and turns on the lamp, waking him back up as she’s pacing the room. He can only look at her with bewilderment but a clear expectation that she might start ‘word vomiting’ at him. They make eye contact and it breaks whatever silent resolve she had.
“You’ve never said that before! I told you that the night I told you my identity! That was months ago in December, it's nearly March! Have you loved me this whole time? Did something change tonight? Nothing changed tonight! You love me and you just wanted to check in that I knew that! Of course I knew that! Why haven’t you said it before though? We’ve discussed communication styles!”
“...” Damian opened and closed his mouth. Unsure of how to best intervene before she wears a hole into his hardwoods with her pacing. She had continued talking but it was repetition of logic, he could practically see the red strings as she spoke.
“Are we official? Can I call you my boyfriend?” Marinette stopped pacing and looked him in the eyes as she asked.
“Would you like that?” Damian inquired back genuinely.
“Would you?!” She panicked, and sometimes it made him want to laugh when he could see every fiber of her being shaken with an anxiety he could easily dissuade. He loved to provide solutions to her panic, he hoped he would always be able to.
“I would not presume to have any such issue with the notion.” Damian smiled, small but sincere, and exhaustion flooding back to him.
“Will you meet my parents?” She panic inquired once more, a bit calmer at his first answer.
“I can certainly oblige that request.” He nodded, before turning to fluff his pillow all the slightest.
“Can I meet your family?” Marinette asked, but her tone told him that she was no longer panicked. No, this question was more like a mission request or a challenge.
Damian sighed, nodded his head, and then did his best to fall back to sleep.
It was spring in Gotham and Timothy was having the headache of a life time.
Sure, Damian’s intel was always insightful and critical and entirely too detailed…but that was entirely the issue at this moment in time.
Why was Ladybug, a non-leaguer, listed on his report? How had he even managed to convince the one Balance of the Universe to aid his mission? When did he even meet her?
Investigating a step further, he began to watch her latest fights to see Robin alongside her, even Superboy on the rare occasion. She was formidable and agile and clearly a tremendous hero. It just begged the question why Damian would step in to aid her when she clearly had these situations handled? Didn’t he want to take time off from field work to do investigative work on the back burner to his Phd?
Tim couldn’t help himself but feel the itch to stalk every single detail out of the plotline, but stopped himself. He’d grown a lot since being the Robin that once stalked down and identified Batman and Nightwing. He instead, would be taking a page out of Kon’s book.
Dialing the stabby bird wasn’t his favorite option but it would be the most effective given the early time of day it was in France.
“Hello Timothy.” Damian greeted his brother, the tone incredibly neutral.
“Hey Damian, just trying to sort out a detail from your analysis report for WE.” Tim spoke nonchalantly, as if bringing up a superficial thing and not an official Justice League report document. Their phone lines were nearly guaranteed to be secure, but they still played it tight to the cuff with coded language.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, a secondary contractor is listed. Has to do with the bug exterminators I think. Is… There any context to that? I don’t want to look too far into it, ya know, in case it's just a one off thing.” Tim led him through the context he was looking for, hoping that it wasn’t too revealing of a question or hint towards Ladybug.
“It will be a recurring partnership given the relationship our company has entered.” Damian said it so matter of factly that Tim had to do a double take.
“ Relationship ?!”
“I don’t recall stuttering when I spoke.” Damian deadpanned.
“Right, right, my bad. I uh, I get it. Though I will say the original contractor of WE will want to meet the new partner.” Tim tried to feign composure but it was as if the world were tilting.
“The original?” Damian sighed into the phone, as if trying to determine if Tim was talking about Dick or Alfred, knowing that they each came with very different strings attached. Alfred would need to know her dietary restrictions, Dick would want all of the details of how they met etc.
“The name starts with an A.” Tim saved him the trouble.
“Right. Of course. Any other details you needed for the report?” Damian offering to volunteer information? It truly was the end of the world. Tim wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth however.
“I… I would like to know the duration of this partnership? For the company’s books.” Tim quickly added.
“ Tt . Months. I have other work to get back to now so if-” “Is that Jon?” Damian’s voice was cut off on the receiver as it picked up a secondary voice. A very soft, french voice.
“I would like to speak with them!” Tim nearly shouted into the microphone.
“Tt.” Was all that came from Damian but he could hear his brother’s muffled voice talking to the woman present on the other side of the line.
“Bonjour!”
“Hi! Hello! You’re the newest partner then?” Tim asked, immediately trying to set the record straight without really doing anything at all. This question wouldn’t help him to determine if she was Ladybug or someone else or in a civilian alias or whatever additional options a secret identity could have. Panic consumed him, he didn’t prepare to have access to her for questioning so soon!
“In a couple of ways, yes! I don’t have much time before Damian says I’m revealing something but please tell me, is there a favorite family dessert or sweet that I can bring over for that evening meeting?”
“There’s going to be an evening meeting?” Tim’s surprised tone went up an octave as he became flabbergasted. Damian was going to bring her home for dinner? To meet the Family? Was his little brother going insane?
“Dames insisted I understand what all I’m getting involved in.” She laughed.
“Woah.” Is his only reply before he can hear her laughing and the phone’s microphone shifting, as if the phone were being taken away.
“Timothy your time is up, feel free to communicate to the others as little as they need to know.” Damian sighed, the woman’s laugh still cackling in the background.
“Wait Dames, before you hang up, tell her that A likes shortbreads with his Tea.”
“I know that. Dick prefers date cookies, Jason enjoys chocolate chip, you prefer snickerdoodle, and so on. I know what desserts the family enjoys.”
“Aw-” But Tim’s cooing was cut off by his brother ending the call.
It wasn’t even an hour later that Damian sent a single text in the family groupchat:
Dinner on 07/xx to introduce my partner Marinette. Alfred will be serving dinner at 6pm, she will be providing dessert by 8pm. If you choose to attend, you will do your best not to make a mockery of this family.
Bruce had been paying attention. All of his children were suddenly bustling around the apartment, floral arrangements were being moved and a number of them were yelling. Even Duke appeared to be running around in the festivities when he would normally be on campus or in his dorms.
Bruce had not been paying enough attention to understand who the surprise guest was that had them all in a tizzy. It couldn’t be a reporter, or any celebrity, the way the house was being staged was to appear more… chaotic than calm. As though they were attempting to be honest and not crafting a persona.
Eventually, he decided to approach Dick, the most likely to give him the truth.
“What is this all for?” He asked in simple words, not sure where all these appetizers had spawned in from. Surely Alfred hadn’t been cooking all day?
“You haven’t checked your personal phone in a while, have you?” Dick gave him a classic ‘eldest sibling’ sigh.
“No, everyone has been home except for Damian.” Bruce attempted to provide this detail as though it might defend his position in some way.
“Yeah, key observation there.” Dick just smiled and then walked away. Bruce began his march back to his office to grab his personal phone but was stopped by Jason.
“Old man, you better plan on playing the part. If you ruin this for the brat, its going to be the last fucking straw.” Jason immediately began to threaten. He was holding a few different jackets bundled in his arms and his hair was slicked in a way that made the white strands appear more purposeful.
“I have no intentions on ruining whatever it is that is going-” Bruce began, but the look on Jason’s face stopped him before his voice did.
“You haven’t checked your phone?” Jason accused knowing the correct answer before his pseudo father could answer him.
“No, I was on my way to get it-”
“Figures. Senile so soon. Damian is bringing a date to dinner tonight. Don’t fuck it up .” Jason rolled his eyes and walked away, calling after his sisters in all but blood to help him settle on an outfit.
Bruce blinked a few times, grabbed his phone, and blinked a few times more. This was…Good. This was great! Damian was coming out of his shell and was bringing her back to the manor so soon!
Tracking down Tim, who he knew would have all of the answers, Bruce played his cards smart. A fresh cup of bribery (read: Coffee) in hand, he came up to the computer with a twinkle to his eye and a mission.
“Hey Timmy, how-” Bruce began, but he immediately heard the third (fourth?) eldest child sigh.
“You want to know about Marinette.” Timmy spoke, swiveling around in the bat chair and looking better dressed than he ever had for a Gala. Tim accepted the cup of coffee, and after a moment of inspection, took a sip.
“Am I underdressed?” Bruce was unsure of himself all of a sudden, not that he wasn’t in a nice outfit, just that Tim was taking this very seriously.
“Not for the purposes outlined by Damian but with context, yes. You are. And fun fact: I’m not going to tell you why.” Tim smirked dangerously.
“What did you find on her?” Bruce felt his eyebrow go up, a strange unease setting in that always came from his children refusing to share information.
“Only great things. You’ll learn some of them when you talk to her.” Tim sighed, turned off the computer and walked away with the coffee from Bruce while his father figure was still contemplating his approach. They all referred to it as keeping him stun-locked.
“Do you know how they’re arriving? Damian didn’t purchase any plane tickets as a civilian-” Tim turned to cut him off with a short explanation of ‘None-ya’ but it never came.
Instead they were interrupted by a small flash of light circling around in the cave until it opened to reveal a portal. Damian walked out of it soon after, holding what appeared to be a traveling Cake holder and a number of thin boxes in his other hand.
“Good. Timothy you can prove yourself useful and take these up to Alfred while I help her grab the rest.” Damian pawned off the small boxes, and then turned to his Father with the cake carrier.
“Father. She’s made an entire cake based off of a second hand comment about it being your favorite. You will eat it and you will compliment her talents.” Damian glared, handed it over and then walked back through the portal. He emerged a few seconds later with a larger patisserie box and following him was a young woman in an equestrian styled outfit.
Two quick flashes of light later, a small well dressed woman stood in front of him and Damian was playfully commenting on her having jet lag for being a second behind him.
Bruce just stood there for a second.
“Bonsoir! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I hope it’s okay that we entered through the basement, I didn’t want the chance of being seen through a window.” She spoke excitedly with only the smallest hint of embarrassment as she marched forward with a hand extended. (She had seen it in so many American movies, sue her for leading with that approach, it was hilarious.)
Bruce caught himself well enough to take her hand and shake it.
“Pleasure is all mine.” Is all Bruce replied with before Tim launched into a conversation about her Fashion line of all things. Damian practically hissed at him, and the three made their way up the stairs. She gave him a sympathetic wave as they left the cave at least.
His son was dating a magic user. She knew about the batcave. She was petite, a very short french woman, clearly used to fighting different battles but confident none the less. He had helped her bring in a number of desserts, even cordially interacting with Tim to do it. Tim was excited to meet and talk with her, enough so that he was well dressed.
Bruce was taking in all this information, compiling it, storing it, and deciding that he needed a drink.
Arriving at the table, he was the last one to take his seat.
“So you’ve like, killed people then?” Jason asked across a tray of seasoned broccoli, one of Damian’s favorites. Bruce felt as though he might be sent to an early grave.
“I mean who’s magic hasn’t technically killed people? Fortunately I have recollection and restoration spells for all of my battles. No damage done, no lives lost and nothing more than a pain in my neck to get the right criminal to the right authority for justice to be served.”
“You’ve brought people back from the dead?!” Steph interjected before Jason could say anything.
“Loads of times. Paris would have a population of One if I couldn’t.” Marinette explained.
“Sole survivor?” Cass spoke in two plain words with plenty of implication behind them.
“Basically in every time line it’s me.” Marinette laughed though she looked a bit embarrassed.
“She is well informed on the time stream given her two aspects of Kronos.” Damian supplied. The room was stunned into a moment of silence at that fact.
“...How did you two meet?” Dick lamely inquired. Bruce was grateful for the question as he was trying to generate the larger picture that just kept getting more and more convoluted.
“Oh! I saw Alfred in the window after a battle.” Marinette answered, happy to be on a reasonable conversation topic.
“Alfred the Cat has become more fond of her than myself. There are even days that I doubt Titus’ loyalty.” Damian confessed.
“You saw the cat in the window, and just stopped by?” Dick followed up his question, a smile on his face.
“Alfred the cat has a very becoming window seat.” Damian replied.
“He brought out snacks and supplies, told me to stop bleeding on his furniture and then let me play with Alfred and Titus for nearly an hour.” Marinette beamed, looking back at her boyfriend who quit glaring at Jason for a single second to smile back at her before resuming.
“An hour out in the cold? Doesn’t Paris have like, a super snowy winter?” Duke asked.
“Oh no, that was back in summer.” Marinette answered him. Damian didn’t comment further.
Conversation then carried to their future plans for the spring in Paris, and their travel plans. Slowly the siblings began to bring up their own experiences and future plans, and the night was moving swimmingly. It was clear that she had been better informed on them than they were on her, but she was a pretty open book. Honest in every response, and sincere with the way she conveyed her message.
Damian oscillated between glaring at his family and looking entirely enamored with her.
Dessert was served, with each person getting a slice of cake and a specific flavor of cookie or treat that was each person's favorite.
“A stroopwafel! How did you know?!” Steph was overjoyed, asking before her mouth began to sing praises of how delicious the treats were.
“Oh! Damian knew all of your favorite treats! It was super easy to pry out of him.” Marinette informed them and the room coo’d. Damian blushed harder than he had all night, replying with some empty but very violent t hreat which got Marinette laughing.
The family moved from the dining room to a living room after dessert had been completed and praises for her baking had been sung. It was in the transition that Bruce grabbed Damian for just a moment.
“How long have you two been in love?” Bruce questioned, something in the back of his mind hoping that it was a very serious relationship so his alarm bells could stop ringing with concern for identity politics.
“I’ve been in love with her since she landed on my balcony, I was just blind until I heard her say it. But to answer your real question, yes. We are committed to one another, and that will not be changing even under threat of apocalypse.” Damian said, his sincerity on full display with his small grin.
Bruce smiled and sensing that it would be okay, pulled his youngest into a hug.
“I’m so happy for you chum.” Was all he was able to get out, the emotions were too large for a challenged man like himself. He had solace in Damian hugging him back.
“Ahem.” Alfred interrupted, a few black boxes stacked in his hands.
“Master Damian, I have taken the liberty of pulling a few heirlooms from the vault on behalf of Master Bruce. If you two might join me for a moment.” He spoke clearly, though it was obvious how emotional he was at the prospect. Not obvious to anyone who wasn’t a world class detective of course, but obvious.
“I should get back to-”
“Master Damian.” Alfred raised an eyebrow.
“Alfred, If you would give me a moment, I do need to ask her ring size.” Damian replied and walked away. Bruce merely blinked.
“On my behalf huh?” He turned to his Father figure and knew that he was right. It made sense that this young woman would walk away with something of a grander promise.
The uproar of shouting was a clear indication that he had asked regardless of the fact that his siblings were all present.
Bruce heard their footsteps as they marched out of the common room, but it was a second before the pair would appear in front of him. Damian appearing a bit more dishelved than before with a closed grin.
“I am here to negotiate a pendant or a bracelet since he’s insisting. Damian needs to ask my parents before he can do anything with a ring that fits on my finger.” Marinette quickly explained.
Bruce had always hoped to see his son in love, he had always hoped to see his son so loved in return.
The room that was once filled with loud and over joyed siblings told him that they had wished the same. Bruce knew they were all watching from a distance now.
They only had eyes for one another, and she selected a small pink topaz to adorn her neck, Damian having helped place it there.
Siblings rushed in, they bickered and they coo’d and they interrupted each other in all the best ways.
A portrait of Martha and Thomas seemed to glow with joy.
“So how would you feel about joining the Justice League?” Bruce asked at an opportune moment, embracing his children’s groans and Damian’s incredulous look of disapproval.
To Bruce, his family meant the world.
“Was that too much?” Damian inquired as they assumed post-battle position on his couch. Alfred the cat curled up on her as she curled up around him.
“Your family was so fun! I always wanted a big family.” Marinette hummed, incredibly tired but incredibly fulfilled.
“Are you certain? I hadn’t meant to ask you like that.”
“You just asked what size ring I wore, it’s not like you proposed. I’ll let you do that in due time.” Marinette smirked, and he pecked the side of her face.
It was a quiet evening in Paris and the world was safe.
“Do you think we should get a cat condo?” Damian inquired next.
“Like one of the towers?” Marinette leaned back to ask him.
“Yes, climbable. More interactive.”
“...Damian.”
“Marinette?”
“What are you really saying to me right now?”
“Well, let's just say that hypothetically I saved a stray cat not long before we left and the kitten is currently hiding in the bathroom with food, water and heating blankets…”
“You should have started with that!” She jumped up from the couch and ran to the room, slowing only for a moment at the bathroom door before opening it. In a moment she had a small calico kitten in her arms and she was crying with what he presumed to be Joy. He embraced her into a hug, both Alfred and Titus laying down at their feet.
“Of course I want to marry you Damian!” She choked out after a moment.
“You do?” Damian asked, amused that he hadn’t yet asked but apparently the kitten had done all the talking.
“Yes! Cat window seat and all!” Marinette explained before catching him in a kiss.