Love Like Demons (A Damian Wayne Fanfiction)

One: I'm Just Thinking 'Bout You

Just as he begins fumbling for his grapple gun, something hits him from the side. He pulls back, expecting to find either Rapid or another villain, but is instead looking at the cowl of Batman.

Father and son land on the roof of another building.

"I had it!" Damian growls ungratefully. He cares little that he sounds like the child he was several years ago. Batman remains stoic, looking down at his sidekick through the darkness.

"Time to go," is all he says, before reporting the same to Black Bat and Spoiler on the other side of the city.

"You always act this way after a battle with her!"

"Battle? You couldn't even pull your weapon," Batman responds. Damian chokes on his words as he watches his father walk away. "You should head back."

The teen grumbles to himself but Bruce disappears before he can say anything. He heads back to where his bike is without detouring, determined to get back to the safety of his room before he can make anymore embarrassing mistakes.

On his way he begins internally scolding himself for his own stupidity. Letting females get the best of you is a Grayson thing, not a Wayne thing.

At least they'll never know...

The thought of Grayson, Brown, Todd, Cain, Gordon, Drake and Pennyworth finding out makes him shiver. That can only go downhill. He hopes his father says nothing of it.

He finds his bike where he left it and looks around suspiciously. There is no sugary scent in the wind and no telling dash, so he picks his helmet up and climbs on.

Facing women and girls has never been a problem for him before. Quite honestly Damian had begun to think people like Grayson and Logan, who seem to be unable to fight women without flirting, are the ones with the problems.

Not that I'm flirting!

The thought combined with burning sugar seems to drain his energy entirely.

"You survived!"

He tries to maintain an emotionless exterior.

"I could have died," he snaps irritably. Rage and embarrassment prod at the cracks that begin to show when she speeds in front of him in a second.

"Now, do you really think I would have dropped you if I thought you were going to die?" She asks, grinning.

Damian squeezes his fists, trying to look anywhere but at her face. His gaze falls to her uniform (not her lean body); different from the single picture in her file.

"You changed your attire," he blurts out. No, no, Damian Wayne does not do small talk.

Rapid looks down at her clothes, before glancing back at him with a smirk. Damian feels his mind quake.

Okay, maybe Robin small talks.

Instead of the old Purple outfit she once wore with a large Flash bolt across the torso, she wears long, black armoured leggings embellished with small metal lightning bolts, knee-high purple boots and an armoured black crop with a hood. Donned with purple goggles and gloves to match, it seems she has dumped the idea of being Flash's protege for being her own person.

That, Damian can respect.

"Still Rapid," she says, shrugging her shoulders, before ultimately disappearing, leaving behind a purple blur and the smell of marshmallows.

Marshmallows. Those insufferable snacks. That has to be her scent.

Damian realises he's still standing there dumbfounded like a teenaged boy, staring in the place where she was. He shakes his head tiredly and climbs back on his bike, determined to not crash on the way home because of her.