Cora pov:
I'm really warm.
It's not a bad warm. I feel, comfortable. Like I'm being hugged in a warm cocoon. It's so relaxing. I nuzzle into the warmth, curling in on myself.
"Good morning, Beloved." My eyes snap open.
I twist around to face Damian, but he's beside me. I blink a few times to clear my eyes and stare at him. The first thing I notice is his tired eyes that match his tired smirk. The second thing I notice is the fact that he has no blankets covering him.
"'Morning, my love. Did you get any sleep?" I ask. He runs a hand through his hair.
"No, but I'm alright." He replies easily.
"Would that have to do with why you don't have any blankets?" I question, sleep clearing from my head.
"No again. Look down." He smirks. I glance down and sure enough, I have the blankets rolled around me. All of them. I drop my face into the nearest pillow.
"I am so sorry." I mumble. He chuckles.
"It's alright. I usually get too hot anyways." He states. I peek at him with one eye. I try to remove my arms but the sheets are wound too tightly. I try again, frowning this time when it doesn't budge.
"Dami, I think I'm stuck." I say, struggling to remove my arms. I wiggle my legs but that's the most I've got.
"Seriously?" He asks, raising a brow and wiggle around once again.
"Yes." I mumble dejectedly. He chuckles loudly. I think that was his laugh actually. He covers his mouth.
"As much as I love hearing you laugh, please stop laughing at me. I need heeelp." I whine, but a small grin splits my face.
"Why should I help you? You're the one who wrapped yourself in them." He teases. I scoff.
"How about, because you love me and you don't want me to rip my way out of them?" I say with a sickly sweet voice.
"Tt, Drama queen." He says, but he does sit up. He grabs my shoulder and rolls me over. I try to help him roll me, he then drags me back to him so I don't roll off the bed.
Finally I'm loose enough that I can wriggle my arms free. I start pushing and pulling the swirl of sheets down my body until I kick them off my legs.
"Freedom!" I say happily, falling back onto the mattress. Dami chuckles at me, I smile at him.
"Not if I have any say in it." He says darkly. I'm about to ask what he means before he scoops me up and pulls me close. I giggle and laugh loudly.
"Noooo. I was so close." I whine childishly. He holds me tighter and I let out more laughter as I hold him just as tight. He's just as warm as my cocoon.
"No, you weren't." Dami says with a grin. I love his grins. I kiss him on the cheek. Then the other cheek. Then his forehead. Then his nose, his temple, his other temple, his cheeks again, until he stops me with a kiss of his own.
I kiss him back, his lips warming mine. I wish I could wake up like this everyday. Happy and with loving kisses that make my head spin and my heart flutter. I find my hand in his hair and his hand resting on the small of my back. Perfect.
"Well I'm certainly awake now." He says in a low voice. I smile at him contentedly.
"That does make for a good start to our day, huh?" I state happily.
"It doesn't have to just be the start. We could lay here and cuddle for awhile." He suggests.
"That sounds nice. Maybe you could get some sleep." I muse, curling into him. He sighs.
"I can try. But I'd rather just hold you for a time." He says, rubbing his thumb over my shoulder.
It's now that I remember last night. I had a nightmare, but so did he. I fell asleep before he did, obviously. My brows furrow as I look up at him.
"Dami?" I start. He raises a brow.
"Yes?" I take a small breath.
"Why didn't you sleep last night?" I ask. Was he just thinking? Was he worried? Was he, scared?
"I simply couldn't fall back asleep." He states. I frown.
"Have a nap then. I'll be right here when you wake up." I assure. I don't see his reaction, instead snuggling my face into his chest and getting comfortable.
I listen to his heartbeat. It's steady and loud with my ear right next to his chest. It's comforting as my nightmare from last night flashes through my mind.
The looks of distaste, the way Tim scoffed at me, Damian shoving me off of him, Dick laughing, Jason's threats. They all replay in my head as I do my best to contradict it with reality.
They don't look at me like that, Tim laughs with me, I'm laying on Damian's chest right now, Dick doesn't laugh like that, Jason wouldn't threaten me. It was just a dream.
I notice Damian's breathing has evened out. It's rare that he's the one asleep and I'm the one awake. I gently look up to gaze at his peaceful features.
His emerald eyes have closed, his eyebrows are still somehow furrowed, his jaw is unclenched and his lips are just slightly parted. Stunning.
His tan skin is only a shade lighter than mine, probably from the typical lack of sun. The sun's rays melt over his face and the collar of his shirt. His hair is tousled but away from his face as usual. I'm enjoying these moments.
I don't know how much time passes as we lay like this. My thoughts wander through my head, passing through and passing on. The sun has rippled over Damian's face.
After just a few more minutes he takes in a very deep breath, squeezing his eyes and blinking them open. He makes a face, which I find adorable.
"How long was I out?" He grumbles. I glance over at his clock again, doing some quick math.
"An hour and a half." I inform quietly. He nods, his arms hugging me tighter.
"Did you fall asleep at all?" He questions. I shake my head.
"Nope." I say happily. He sighs.
"Let's get up then. But first." He says with a smirk. He pulls me in for another kiss, to which I accept and return happily.
We do end up rolling out of bed after that. I start heading to my room and Damian heads down the hallway to the kitchen.
I open my door and freeze in my tracks. I narrow my eyes and step into my room without blinking. I only take small glances around my room, trying to find a piece of paper.
I could use toilet paper to kill this thing, but then I'd have to take my eyes off of it to get to the bathroom. I settle for just having a staring contest with it, muttering threats.
"Don't you dare move I swear to God if you so much as take a step I will end you with my bare hands. You better stand still you little shit because I'll get you." I mutter, glaring daggers at the spider that sits on my doorframe.
"Cora? Who are you talking to?" Damian asks, a bottle of water in his hand. I don't look at him directly, but I point at the tiny menace beside his shoulder. He looks at it for maybe a millisecond before just smushing it with his water bottle.
I finally blink and I feel myself relax. I let out a breath of relief as Dami chuckles.
"We're you, scared of a tiny little spider?" He asks. I scowl at him.
"It's perfectly normal to not like spiders." I defend. He tuts.
"Tt, it's not normal to threaten them at a distance while trembling." He remarks, wandering into my bathroom to clean off the water bottle.
"I didn't have any paper or cups." I say, crossing my arms. He scoffs.
"Your hand would have been just as effective." He states with a smirk. I pout.
"I don't like to feel them squish." I mutter. He shakes his head in disbelief.
"It is a wonder you can fight the way you do when you can't feel a bug squish. Never change, Beloved." He says with a small smile. I give him a kiss on the cheek.
"I don't plan on it." I assure. I notice the art project I started awhile ago. The canvas sticking out from my bookshelf. It sparks an idea.
"Hey Dami." I say. He knows I want something by the look in his eyes and the way his eyebrows furrow.
"Yes?" He asks, although hesitant.
"Can I paint on you?" I ask, almost maliciously. He stops to consider it for a moment.
"That depends on where and what." He says suspiciously.
"You can pick where and I'll decide on what when you do." I decide. He seems to consider it deeply.
"Alright, but I won't allow anything obscene." He says firmly. I grin wildly.
"Of course! Who do you take me for? Jason?" I say excitedly.
He scoffs but sits on the bed while I grab a towel and some paint, as well as a palette. I grab a few brushes from my desk and I fill up my paint water cup in the bathroom sink.
"So where am I painting?" I ask, setting my supplies down on the nightstand. He taps his chest, where the Robin symbol of his suit usually is.
"Here." He smirks. I find myself blushing like a cherry tomato as he unbuttons the top 3 buttons and shrugs the loose fabric away from his shoulder. There's a perfect blank space there.
I shake my head to make myself focus and I sit on my bed in front of him. I pour out some red and mix it with just a little brown to dull the colour. I pour out some black, then some white and just a little bit of brown
I get to work, focusing solely on my artwork. My hand shakes just a bit at Damian's thudding heartbeat. I grin to myself. His heart is racing.
"What are you grinning at?" He asks warily. I remove my brush and look up at him.
"I can feel your heartbeat, my love. It's quite fast for someone who's sitting down." I tease. He tuts but doesn't say anything.
I continue with the mixing and application of paint. I always love mixing black and white, it looks pretty. After a lot of detailing, I'm done. I sit back to admire my work.
A robin sits on a telephone wire, displayed brightly on Dami's chest.
"May I see it?" He asks. I nod excitedly. As worried as I am that he may not like it, I am excited to show him what I've learned.
I've been learning to paint in the past few months. I'm not perfect but I practice when I can. It's fun. I found a stack of canvases and some paint on the balcony when I spent my first day alone recovering.
They may have been Damian's, I know art supplies don't just fall from the sky. But I don't want to ask him about it.
At first I just didn't want to bring it up to him because they were out there for a reason. Now I don't want to accidentally reopen an old wound. He hasn't asked about them and probably forgot by now.
"I love it." He says, walking back into the room. I grin at him.
"I did my best." I say with a small bow. He sits back down on the bed, leaving his shirt open so the paint can dry.
"My turn." He states with an evil grin. My face twists into one of confusion.
"Wait what?" I question.
"My turn. Pick a spot." He demands easily.
"You're gonna paint on me? When did I agree to this?" I ask incredulously.
"Alright fine. May I paint on you?" He concedes. I laugh a little.
"It's only fair I suppose. But same rules apply. Nothing bad." I warn. He shrugs.
"That doesn't limit my abilities, beloved. Now pick a spot." He says impatiently. I roll my eyes with a smile. I have to actually think about this one.
My arms maybe? No, the paint would feel weird if I move and I'd probably smudge it. Legs? No, I haven't shaved them. Definitely not my chest or my stomach. If it goes on my face I'm going to break out. That just leaves my back.
Maybe it'll be good. If the paint covers my scars then I don't have to see them. They're still not fully healed and it's maddening. I just want to get rid of them already. I hate seeing them knowing I was branded, marked, claimed. It makes me sick.
If Damian covers them, then it would be like he's the one branding me, even temporarily. It would be his mark, no one else's. Since it's my choice, it's not a claim. I like this idea.
"I have 2 conditions." I state, he raises his eyebrow but nods.
"Alright, those are?" He questions.
"You have to close your eyes and look away for a minute." He nods. "It has to cover most, if not all of my scars." I demand firmly.
"On your back then? I can do that." He agrees. Well that was easy.
"Perfect. Now eyes closed." I say, gesturing with my hand. He squeezes his eyes shut, covers them with his hands and looks to the side. A little bit of overkill but it's a sweet gesture.
I tug on the back of my shirt, lifting it up but holding the front down with my other hand. I pull my head through but not my arms. I keep my front completely covered as I lay down with my head to the side.
"You can look now." I say. I watch him, pull his hands away and slowly look towards me. I watch his eyes scan over the map of scars that spreads across my shoulders down to the bottom of my ribs. I see the frown that deepens over his face.
"Are you sure? Wouldn't this be, similar?" He asks extremely hesitantly. I offer him a small smile.
"That's the point. The main reason I hate them is because, well, they're like a brand. Something that makes it seem like he owns me or something. So it's just," I pause.
"This is my choice. I'm letting you mark me. And, I, um, I don't mind if I have something that says I'm yours." I admit, feeling my cheeks heat up. I look at my sheets instead of him.
"As long as you're sure. I can wipe it off if you don't like it." He assures. I look back up at him with a smile.
"If it's you, I'm sure I'll love it." I say firmly. He nods and grabs the pallet. He pours out more brown and a little more black.
I almost gasp when he starts. It's cold. Not to mention when he paints that lightly it tickles just a little. I have to focus on not squirming. I can feel the difference between when he paints over a scar or normal skin. My scars are much more sensitive and I have to grip the sheets to stop myself from laughing.
He brushes over a big one and I let out a small giggle. I don't feel the brush on me for a few seconds and I try to look back at him without moving.
"Cora?" He asks, I can hear the amusement in his tone.
"Yes?" I reply, feigning ignorance.
"Are you, ticklish?" He asks with the softest of laughs.
"No. And if you test it you'll ruin your artwork." I warn lamely. He chuckles darkly.
"That paint will dry soon enough, Beloved. I have all the time in the world to test this." He says with a low chuckle. I pout.
"I could run. Keep you 10 feet away at all times." I threaten. He snickers.
"You could try. But you and I both know I'm faster." He states. I can't even argue because he's right. I feel the brush come back to my skin.
"I could get a stick. Keep you on the other end of it." I muse.
"It would be easier to let me tickle you. Since you're not ticklish it wouldn't matter." He teases. I roll my eyes. I have to bite my lip when he goes over another scar.
"Or you could just not test it? I mean really what's the point?" I question. He scoffs.
"The point is make you laugh." He mumbles, concentrated.
"Say something funny then. I don't need to be manhandled to laugh." I reply easily.
"Humour is not my strong suit, in case you haven't noticed." He mutters. I should probably just stop talking and let him work at this point.
"I think you're funny." I state quietly. He makes a noise but doesn't say anything. I let the conversation die out, settling into a comfortable silence.
He continues his work, pausing only to switch colours or brushes. I know I'm probably really tense, but when he uses tiny little strokes I almost flop around like a dying fish. It is taking a lot of energy to not laugh or move.
"Alright, it's done. Do you want me to take a picture so you can see it?" He asks, breaking the silence.
"Yes please." I say. I hear a little bit of rustling and then a click. He sets the phone next to my face and I hold it.
A beautiful pair of Robin wings now adorn my back.