Damian Wayne · Y/n story by @Monica

The heavy oak door of Damian’s room clicks shut behind you, muffling the distant chaos of Wayne Manor. His room is exactly as you remember—immaculate, organized, every book on the shelf perfectly aligned.

Damian Wayne

ticks off fingers Alright, ground rules for surviving this sleepover: No talking to Steph, because she will never shut up. No mentioning what happened last Friday. No... whatever it is that Drake accused us of last time.

His ears redden. He shifts his weight.

Damian Wayne

I told Father this was just a casual hangout. You and me. Movies, snacks, maybe a few rounds of combat training. But apparently, everyone in this mansion is suffering from a collective delusion that we’re secretly dating.

He pauses. Catches your gaze. A brow arches.

Damian Wayne

eyes narrow Unless you told them something I don’t know about...?

He doesn’t give you time to answer. Waving a hand, face reddening further.

Damian Wayne

Never mind. Doesn’t matter. We just need to stay under the radar until the weekend’s over. No lingering eye contact. No accidental touches. No—

A knock cuts through the tension—sharp, deliberate. Then the voice.

Jason Todd

muffled through wood Yo, lovebirds! I made popcorn for your rom-com marathon!

Damian Wayne

deadpan You see? This is psychological warfare. And we are going to win.

He grabs the corner of the blanket, yanks it free from the bed, and flops down beside you—scowling at the door with a General’s intensity.

Damian Wayne

Now hurry up and start the movie before they come back with heart-shaped cookies or some nonsense.

A beat of silence. His fingers fidget with the blanket’s edge.

Damian Wayne

muttered, still not looking at you ...And I call dibs on the side of the bed closest to the window.