⭐️ Eternal Shadow 🌙 Damian wayne ~~~~complete

Chapter 22: Late That Night

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The Tower felt different after a breakdown.

Like the walls themselves softened a little, holding the echo of everything that had come spilling out hours before.

Marceline sat curled up on the common room couch, a blanket draped over her shoulders. The room was dim, the only light coming from the flicker of some dumb old sci-fi movie playing muted on the screen. Outside, waves licked at the shore, and the steady hum of the Tower's systems was a strange kind of lullaby.

On the coffee table in front of her sat a chaotic, half-forgotten spread of takeout containers.

Mozzarella sticks. Fries. Onion rings. Three different milkshake cups with various levels of melting ice cream sludge. Sweet potato fries. Something green and questionably healthy no one had touched. Jaime and Gar had apparently ordered enough for a small army earlier, then crashed halfway through the feast and retreated to their rooms with groaning stomachs.

Now it was just her. And—

A rustle of movement made her glance up.

Damian slid onto the couch beside her, his hair a little messy from sleep, dressed down in a black t-shirt and sweatpants. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then he picked up a mozzarella stick, gave her a look that was half a dare, and bit into it.

Mars let out a weak, exhausted laugh — the kind that left her chest aching but lighter.

"You gonna share, Wayne?" she murmured.

He held out the box wordlessly.

She took one, dunked it in the too-cold marinara, and leaned back against the couch.

"Jaime and Gar really ordered half the damn menu," she muttered after a beat.

"I noticed." His voice was softer than usual. No edge, no mask.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, half-heartedly picking at the food, the tension that had hung between them for months unravelling at the edges. The movie flickered a nonsense light over their faces.

Finally, Damian spoke, so low it barely registered.

"I meant what I said earlier."

Mars didn't look at him. Couldn't.

Instead, she focused on the fries she was absentmindedly shoving into her mouth.

"I know," she whispered.

He hesitated, then shifted a little closer, his shoulder brushing against hers.

"No more running, Mars. Not from this. Not from us."

Her throat tightened. She wanted to make some sarcastic comment, dodge the ache blooming in her chest. But instead, she just let herself lean into the warmth of his side, closing her eyes as the exhaustion of the day, the month, the year dragged her down.

"Okay," she breathed, and it wasn't just a word. It was a promise.

She felt him sigh — like a weight he hadn't even realised he'd been carrying slipped off his shoulders.

And the Tower, the city, the whole damn world could wait.

Because right now, there were cold fries, shitty movies, and the warmth of someone she'd almost lost — and that was enough.

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The sun crept in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, slanting soft golden light across the common room. The waves outside were calm, the city hazy in the early light. Birds chirped somewhere near the garden terrace, and the Tower hummed with that quiet, early-morning stillness it only had when half the team was still knocked out cold.

Kory was the first one to wander in.

Hair loosely tied back, dressed in a giant sleep shirt that read "Fight Me" in glittery purple letters, she paused at the doorway and blinked at the sight before her. A slow, knowing smile curled at the edges of her lips.

"Rae," she called softly over her shoulder.

A beat later, Raven appeared, floating with her usual too-early-for-this expression. She followed Kory's gaze — and for a moment, her brow twitched upward in surprise before settling into a faint, smug smirk.

Because there, on the couch, half-buried under a tangle of blankets, were Damian and Marceline.

Mars's head was tucked against his shoulder, one hand loosely fisted in his t-shirt. Damian's arm was slung around her, possessive even in sleep, his face resting against the top of her head. Around them, the aftermath of their midnight feast: empty fry cartons, crumpled napkins, half-empty milkshake cups tipped over and long melted, and a few abandoned mozzarella stick boxes scattered like tiny wreckage.

It was a mess.

A perfect, beautiful, hilarious mess.

Garfield padded in next, rubbing his eyes, wearing pyjama pants covered in tiny green paw prints.

He blinked, took one look at the scene, and grinned.

"Called it," he muttered, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick photo.

"Gar," Raven warned, though she didn't exactly sound like she meant it.

Jaime followed a moment later, stretching and yawning, stopping dead when he saw the couch. He squinted.

"Dude... did they eat all the fries? I left three orders..."

"They ate everything," Kory confirmed, trying not to laugh.

And then, of course, Dick showed up.

Coffee in hand, hair a mess, wearing sweatpants and a faded Gotham Knights shirt. He stepped in, took in the room, the food disaster, and the two curled up on the couch, and groaned.

"Oh, for fu—"

Kory quickly put a hand over his mouth. "Shhh, Richard. Let them sleep."

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the two of them.

A complicated look passed over his face — worry, relief, brotherly protectiveness, and something softer, too.

"They look... okay," he admitted quietly.

"They're getting there," Raven murmured.

Gar shoved a few empty containers aside and flopped down on one of the other couches.

"Guess it's Team Bonding, Mozzarella Stick Edition."

A soft sound came from the couch — Mars shifted, tucking herself a little closer into Damian's side, and he instinctively tightened his hold on her, still half-asleep.

The room fell quiet, save for the birds and the distant waves.

For the first time in months, it felt like the Tower was breathing easy again.

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