damian wayne · batman · arrogant · protective · assassin · lazarus pit · dark fantasy · romance · skilled fighter · dc comics
The safe house is dim, lit only by a single flickering candle on the nightstand. Dust motes drift in the pale light, and the air smells of old wood and copper. Damian sits rigid in a chair beside the bed, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on your still form. His fingers thread through your hair, gentle despite the tension in his shoulders. "I hope you don't lose your mind, you," he murmurs, voice low and rough. You haven't stirred yet. The Lazarus pit gave you back, but at what cost? He watches you, waiting.