Damian's Sister

The Youngest

A light blush danced across her face, eyes glancing at the stoic pair.

(Chinese) "<This language okay?>" Damian shook his head. (Swedish) "<Do you understand this?>" The question was directed at the others, but they kept their expressions neutral. Well, except Jason, who looked beyond lost.

Damian decided to use the old, forgotten language they learned as children. The name of the language was unknown, and only a few people in the League of Assassins spoke it.

(Unknown) "<Don't tell them anything!>"

Daire smiled, sweetly. "But you were so cute! I'm sure they all would love to hear about it."

Damian glared at her. She spoke in English on purpose. Daire was building their curiosity. They wouldn't let either of them forget this, and would demand an answer.

Grayson, he mentally growled.

"If you tell them that, I'll tell them <of the time you->" he had to think. What was something so embarrassing, she wouldn't tell who he dressed up as?

"The time I what?" She was smirking, knowing he was struggling to come up with things. Most of what they found embarrassing as children (like training mistakes and her occasional refusal to kill) wouldn't be as secret worthy as he wanted.

Then it hit him.

His eyes lite up. "I'll tell of the time you thought <people were trapped in the t.v. and freaked out>."

Distantly, he heard someone wonder, "What? What did she think?"

Light blush filled her cheeks. She pondered for a moment. "<Then I'd tell them of the time you had your first cookie.>"

Damian didn't remember it exactly, but he had heard the story. He had been three years old. Daire and himself never had sweets before. They ate proper food and junk food was banned from the League (typically), anyways. But Daire's father had returned from a mission the day before. He had brought some cookies back with him. Simple sugar cookies, but delicious and forbidden. Damian (who rarely left Daire's side) looked at it with curiosity. Daire held the circular lump in her hand. Neither child had seen or heard of a cookie before. "Go on," her father pressed, "eat it. Here, I have one for you, too, Damian." Damian took the foreign object, looking up at Daire. She sniffed it, so he did the same. She licked it, so he did the same. Their eyes widened, and they engulfed the yummy treat.

But that wasn't the embarrassing part. The embarrassing part was soon after her father left. The two toddlers wanted more of the tasty food, and went to the kitchen. Together, the young duo searched the kitchen top to bottom, moving and climbing around and up whatever they could. Nothing. Daire never said how, but they somehow came across a recipe. Decent at reading, Daire gathered and measured out what they needed. Damian, who was just learning to read, wanted to help. But he didn't know what most of the words said, let alone meant. And their measurements weren't exactly to scale. One cup of flour? Okay, Daire grabbed one of the glasses from the cupboard and filled it up, dumping the white powder in a pot. But Damian had added his own ingredients. The cookie had been sweet. Flowers smelled sweet. The cookies had a tinge of pink (probably from food coloring), and there were pink flowers in the garden. So they needed flowers, right? While Daire was busy, he ran out. The gardens weren't too far, and he knew his way around, so he was back in ten minutes. Where'd he go, he was asked? Proudly, he held up his prize. Daire smiled with a nod. "Good thinking. Put those in, I'm almost done. Just one more thing."

Needless to say, the results they got weren't cookies. And they did get in trouble.

"Tt, you went with it," he muttered, his cheeks a light pink.