|The D.C Collection | Imagines, One-Shots, Preferences, and More |

By The Numbers | Part ii | Damian Wayne x Reader

Just something small to add, because we didn't really get the ending we all (w'all?) wanted:

_

"Shit," you said softly.

Titus was a good dog, like any dog. Well, Titus wasn't just any dog, as he probably had better training than the average policeman, but he shared a trait which seemed to be universal among his brethren; he was cute. Utterly precious. He turned Damian into a puddle of affectionate goop and rendered you speechless, but for the baby-babble you seemed to coo to him on repeat. Though on any other morning you would be treating him to lots of pets for such cuteness, he was currently panting over your totally shredded day-clothes, wagging his tail and acting absolutely innocent of his crime.

"C'mon, Titus, what the heck?" You scooped up your torn clothing and tossed it into Damian's trash. There was no point in searching your overnight bag, as you knew you only brought your pajamas. Worse, you couldn't wear your pajamas either—though they were okay to wear around Damian, they were certainly not decent enough for the Kents, who would be arriving later that day.

With a sigh, you dedicated yourself to scavenging Damian's room. The bed you had shared that night was laden only with sheets and blankets. His closet consisted of rows and rows of black turtlenecks, designer jeans and slacks, and he was much too observant to let you forget anything at his house. The floor was too immaculate for Damian or yourself to randomly toss aside spare shirts or pants, either—well, except for...

You balled the discarded items in your hand and gave another deep sigh. As you began to change with an air of reluctant annoyance, you knew exactly why Titus did what he did. He was much too smart and much too behaved to ravage your clothes like that. It could only mean one thing; he had been put up to it.

___

"You're a little shit, you know that?"

Damian didn't turn around. Unlike you, he had already made his impression on the Kents and was allowed to look like a mess. He lounged upon his back over one of the leather couches in the sitting room, most of his body curled over the arm, where he read, upside-down, The Art of War by Sun Tzu. He didn't look at you when he spoke. But there was no way you didn't recognize the sly, smirking tone in his voice—you'd heard it a thousand times, to the point where it almost felt his normal tone to you. You would also recognize his naked chest wherever you went, especially if you had been wrapped against it the night before.

"So I've been told. What have I done this time, beloved?" He flipped the page.

Even if the others walked the Manor, you were alone in the sitting room. The doors were even closed. There was no need to call you by the nickname, especially if it lacked the mocking note he would usually put in it when others were gone. It was funny to him, an exaggeration, a name you would hear in an overly-cheesy romance novel. And yet he uses it now, as easily and simply as if he'd called you by your own name.

Instead of voicing your frustrations, you stuck out your leg with a shock of irritation, pinned your hand to your hip, and sharply gestured up the length of your body at your attire.

Damian peered at you over the edge of his book. He examined you once, bottom-to-top (or top-to-bottom, from his point of view), then returned to reading. "You learned how to put on clothes by yourself. If you wanted a congratulations, I'm not going to give it. Though if you want me to teach you how to take it off..."

"Don't bullshit me, Damian Wayne!" You laughed. He watched the blush paint your expression with a devilish grin. Suddenly determined to wipe it off his stupidly handsome face, you spun around, picked up the nearest throw pillow and acted upon its name. Damian caught it neatly. When your toss missed its target you flushed even further, still in disbelief. Deciding that this was now something that interested him, he closed his book and sat up, then followed your command of, "Look at me!"