The Bug Bites

18- Spelled

Crash!

Marinette jumped, grabbing the nearest heavy object—a frying pan—and tiptoeing to the balcony door. Peeking around the curtain, all she saw was a person-sized lump, writhing and cursing as they tried to escape their fabric prison. Just as they stood up, she flipped on the patio light and swung the door open with a yell, stopping abruptly when Robin fell backwards over her patio chair a second time.

"Robin?" She lowered her frying pan. "Um. What are you doing here? On my balcony?"

"Marinette!" he cried, jumping up and hugging her with such enthusiasm she instantly knew something was wrong.

Firstly, Robin was known for being sarcastic and bitey, and never enthusiastic about interacting with civilians. And secondly, they hadn't met before, so he shouldn't know her name. He was giving away too much information, and she did her best to ignore it so she wouldn't put any pieces together.

The interaction only got stranger as he kissed her cheeks in la bise and walked into her apartment.

"Marinette, I'm so glad you're here! And wearing my colors!" he said, turning to face her and gripping her shoulders. "I have something important to tell you!"

"Robin," she scolded, fighting down a blush. "You really shouldn't say anything else. In fact, you should call one of your partners to come get you before you get yourself into trouble."

She pushed his hands away and stepped to the side, trying to herd him back in the direction of her balcony. The stubborn man dug his heels in, refusing to move.

"No." He pouted, which was cuter than he had any right to be. "I'm staying right here until I say what I came here to say."

Marinette pulled on his arm.

"Please, Robin," she begged, "something must have happened tonight because you obviously are not in your right mind. Please, call someone to come get you, and go !"

He tilted his head and frowned.

"Got hit by a spell. Didn't stay to find out what it did. I had to talk to you immediately."

Marinette groaned in frustration. Of course. Magic has been nothing but trouble in my life.

"All the more reason for you to go," she tried again, this time pushing him towards the balcony.

He turned around, putting his hands back on her shoulders and gently pushing until she assumed he was looking into her eyes. She couldn't be sure, since his mask had those white lenses.

"Stop pushing me away! I'm trying to tell you I love you."

Marinette froze, gaping at his declaration.

"Well that's ridiculous," she laughed nervously. "You don't even know me."

"Don't even...what are you talking about? Of course I...oh, right."

"No!" she cried, too late as he reached up and pulled off his mask, revealing a face she did indeed know very well.

-----

Damian woke with a groan and a splitting headache. Keeping his eyes closed against the sunlight filtering into the room, he brought his hands up to his temples, rubbing to relieve the pain hammering through his skull. He lay there for a minute or two, wondering what exactly happened the night before. His eyes popped open when he heard a feminine voice humming a song as it passed his door, and he sat up quickly.

He looked around the unfamiliar room, taking in the strange pajamas he was wearing, soft green sheets, and spring themed décor. His unease grew when he spotted his mask on the bedside table, alongside a packet of pain reliever and a bottle of water. He ignored them both, despite his pounding head, and searched the room for his suit, his weapons, and a clue about where he was. Finding nothing of use, he contemplated climbing out the window, until he heard a knock on the door.

"Breakfast is ready," a familiar voice said.

Marinette?

Damian cracked the door open, feeling a small amount of relief to see her lovely blue eyes peering back at him in concern. He opened the door the rest of the way, breath catching as he took in her pajamas: a Robin themed tank top and shorts set, made in her own signature style. She smiled awkwardly.

"Good morning," she greeted, leaning her head inside the room and pointing to the nightstand. "You should take those. I suspect you have a pretty killer headache at the moment." She turned to walk down the hallway.

"Come to the kitchen and make a plate," Marinette called over her shoulder. "You can ask your questions."

He went back to the bed and sat on the side, picking up his mask and running his fingers around the edges. He had many questions to ask her, most important of which was really just a confirmation. Because if his mask was here, it was probable he came here wearing it, and likely Marinette had seen him without it. He needed to know what happened.

He opened the pain reliever and the water bottle, downing them both, grateful they were still sealed. Though he trusted Marinette not to tamper with anything she gave him, she was an observant and considerate person who didn't ask him to trust on faith alone. She proved her trustworthiness with little actions like this, and always respecting his boundaries. One of the many reasons he loved her. Leaving the mask on the bed, he made his way to the kitchen.

She was there, pulling things out of the oven. He noticed now she was wearing mismatched slippers, a ladybug and a black cat; he assumed an homage to the heroes of her hometown. She handed him an empty plate and gestured to the dishes on the counter before carrying her full plate to the table.

He filled his own plate quickly and sat across from her. They ate the first few bites in silence; she seemed content to wait for him to begin the conversation. He put his fork down, took a sip of the orange juice she'd poured for him, and cleared his throat.

"What happened?"

Her eyes met his over her coffee cup.

"How much do you remember?" she asked.

He looked down at his plate.

"I remember going out on patrol, and getting called in for a conflict." He searched his hazy memory. "Not much after that."

She hummed and took another bite.

"You were hit by some sort of magic spell. I'm not sure what it was supposed to do, though I suspect at the very least it removed inhibition. You crash landed on my balcony."

"How did I end up...unmasked?"

"You took it off." She looked away, biting her lip. "I...I tried to stop you, I promise I did, but you were very persistent."

"Did I say why?" He dreaded her answer.

"You said you love me," she whispered. "And then took off your mask when I pointed out that Robin doesn't love me, because Robin doesn't know me."

"Marinette–"

"You were very sweet after that, honestly." She interrupted, smiling. "You insisted on taking me out on a proper date and asked me if I feel the same. I convinced you to sleep off the spell and gave you those pajamas to change into. You can keep them, by the way. I made them for you."

"And what was your answer?" he asked.

"You asked if you could kiss me." She sidestepped the question and looked into his eyes again. He was horrified to see tears welling there. "I didn't let you. You weren't really in a position to make that kind of decision. But you made me promise to consider it if you asked again today."

"Marinette," he pleaded, "what was your answer?"

"Damian, you don't have to do this," she said. "I understand that you were influenced by magic. You don't have to feel guilty, or do any of the things you said."

He stood from his seat and walked around the table to kneel beside her.

"Please, Marinette."

"I love you, Damian," she said softly, turning to face him. "For a long time."

He reached out, caressing her cheek.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," she breathed.

He leaned forward, gently pressing his lips to hers.

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