꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂.
Damian's POV
Marinette's back is towards me, but she's still getting dressed. She has white sweats on, and is slipping into an oversized dark pink sweater. I catch a glimpse of her silky skin, before it's covered up.
I turn red, and go back into the bathroom, because I don't want her catching me watch her. Luckily she doesn't hear me.
What is she doing to me? What magic does Marinette posses?
My biggest question was, who is Marinette? And why does she have this power over me? No, Marinette makes me nervous. That's why my heart is pumping so erratically. I lie.
"Damian?" Marinette calls out.
"Coming," I say, slipping out of the bathroom once again.
Marinette is now at her mannequin, studying the black pieces of fabric she's carefully laid across it. Her mouth is holding needles, and in her hands she holds a design. "I need to finish something really quick on this dress, before I forget. You can sit on my chair, and then we can do something after." She mumbles.
I sit in her chair, pulling out my phone. But I didn't have any texts from Jon, he was still in school, hours behind Paris's time. My phone was dry, but I didn't mind. Watching Marinette was entertaining.
I never understood fashion, it was like parading around like a peacock, and I saw plenty of those people at my father's galas.
But watching Marinette breath life into this dress, enraptured me.
It was a 1920's style dress, sleeveless, except for the tiniest, daintiest straps. Fringe descended down the dress, carefully and meticulously put. Marinette knelt down on her knees, adding slits into the sides of the dress, bringing it back into the modern era.
The best part was, the dress was pure black, sequins and not.
"Who's the dress for?" I asked her.
Not taking her eyes off of her prized possession, Marinette emphasizes, "It's a commission. It's for Sel—someone in the States. I'm making it for a New Year's party or something."
"But that's months away," I point out.
"I usually am swamped with orders, and I'm particular about who I send out my pieces to. I'm used to doing things this far in advance." Marinette shrugs.
I make a mental note of the sophistication of the dress, and then ask, "Are you well known in the designing world?" She had to be some up and coming designer.
Marinette admits, "Not really. I made a hat for a contest once, and it won. And then I designed an album cover for this rock artist, but that the only recognition I've gotten as Marinette for my designs."
I nod. Our conversations are weak, and straight to the point. Come to think of it, I don't know why I was invited over. We're not close, we've maybe shared two conversations in the past two weeks I've sat next to her. Maybe it was out of pity.
Marinette notices my boredom, and puts down her supplies, standing up. "Okay, I'm done. Do you wanna do something?" She asks.
I shrug. "What are we going to do?"
"I'm not sure," she says. Her eyes brighten suddenly, and she says, "The new Ultimate Mecha Strike VI just came out a few days ago, and I haven't tried it. We should play that!"
Before she even lets me responds, she sits on the couch in front of her tv, setting up the game and grabbing the remote. I sit next to her.
"You do know how to play video games, right?" She asks, but I can't help but taking it as a taunt.
Rolling my eyes, I respond, "Tt. Of course I do, I'm forced to play this game with my brothers."
"Are you any good?" She presses.
"Next to Drake, I score the next most points."
Marinette grins, "Second is the first loser. And sadly, you'll lose again today."
Intrigued, I ask, "What makes you so confident in your skills?"
"I'm the best in the class. Even Max hasn't beaten me yet." She doesn't say this in a cocky way, but as a matter of fact. She genuinely believes she is the best... we shall see.
"I guess we'll find out who really is the best," I say, letting my competitive side shine through.
We pick our players, and quickly start the game. Marinette starts out on the defensive, easily analyzing my moves. We banter back and forth, with our words and with our characters, and, dare I say it, it was fun.
She's not another brainless follower of Lila's, and she doesn't chase me like all the other girls at school. She doesn't know my past, or my last name, she just treats me like a normal person.
But she still stimulates me, she's highly intelligent, artistic, and never backs away from a challenge. She even saved me not once, but twice from an akuma. My eyes widen, and I pause.
Is Marinette Ladybug?
It makes sense, with all the amazing things she's able to do. And after she saved me from the akuma the first time, it would've been easy to jump out the window and go after it.
My hesitation is all Marinette needs to strike and win the game.
She pops up off of the couch, and begins celebrating. "I just won—Marinette style. BOO YAH! WOOHOO!"
"Rematch," I demand.
Marinette giggles, "Aw, is someone a sore loser?"
"I was distracted." I argue.
"By my awesomeness?" She teases. "Fine, we can play again, if you feel like losing—again."
I lose game after game, and Marinette wins in a new way every. single. time. Not even Drake has the reaction times she does, he couldn't pull off the stunts she's doing, is there anything this girl isn't good at? No wonder Lila feels so threatened.
For the first time in my life, I relinquish, "Well played."
"Told ya I was good at this," she brags. She opens her mouth to say more, but she's interrupted.
"Marinette! Damian! Dinner!" Her father calls from the floor below.
"C'mon," Marinette says, already up and heading down the stairs, leaving me no choice but to follow her.
The meal was amazing. It was a roast, potatoes, and vegetables, but it reminded me of Alfred's cooking. I know I shouldn't be surprised, because Marinette's parents cook for a living.
But I had never had a family dinner like this. Yes, there were embarrassing moments, and fighting, but they were a family. They had each others back.
There was no death threats, no knife fights, and no food was thrown.
Although they felt like they were closer than my family was, I couldn't help but miss my father, Alfred, or even Todd and Drake. Even if they were the most annoying creatures in existence.
As our meal and conversations carried, neither I or Marinette pointed out that the rain stopped a long time ago.
Marinette's mother is telling a story about her own childhood, about her strict aunt, when my phone rings.
I immediately check it, and see who called me. "Sorry, it's my brother. Grayson is here to pick me up."
"No worries. Come on, I'll walk you downstairs." Marinette offers. I thank her parents for letting me stay over and for the meal that rivals Alfred's cooking. I follow her downstairs, and almost walk out the door when Marinette stops me.
"Wait!"
I turn towards her, "Yes?"
"Thanks for hanging out. It was fun." She says with a small blush.
"Thank you for inviting me over. I'll see you at school." I respond.
But as soon as I mention the horrid place, her face drops. She shakes her head, almost like she's trying to clear her thoughts. "Text me when you get home safe," Marinette adds.
I nod, and wave goodbye.
I jog over to the car, where Grayson seems to be teeming with curiosity and impatience. I slide into the seat, and Grayson studies me.
"Sorry, I'm late. They wouldn't let me go until someone finished a report that I helped with," he sighs with tiredness.
"It's fine." I say, and this time it was true. I didn't mind Marinette's company.
Grayson grins, "So, who did you stay with?"
"A classmate." I say shortly.
"Oh come on, you've got to give me more than that. Was it Marinette?"
"No."
"If you're going to lie, at least make it convincing. You literally left the Dupain-Cheng bakery." Grayson deadpans.
I roll my eyes, "Tt. I thought I was supposed to make friends."
"Wait, she's your friend now? GOOD JOB DAMI—" Grayson shrieks. I don't care what anybody says, he could be Black Canary's protege with the way he yells.
"Hurry and get us to the apartment. Ladybug and her crew patrol tonight." I hastily add, trying to get out of the prying eyes of Batman's oldest Robin.
We had work to do.
꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂.