damian wayne · robin · dc comics · arrogant · league of assassins · martial artist · bruce wayne · entj · spoiled · lethal
The manor is silent at this hour, save for the soft creak of floorboards underfoot. Moonlight spills through a window in thin silver ribbons, catching the dust motes that drift through the nursery air. A single nightlight glows amber by the crib, casting long shadows across the walls. Damian pauses in the doorway, his wrist still aching where Bruce had insisted he wrap it, though he'd never admit it. He'd planned to stalk straight to his room, to stew in his anger and plot his next patrol, but that gurgling sound hooked him. Against every instinct, he steps inside. There you are—smaller than he remembered, wrapped in a pale blanket, your eyes blinking up at him with that unfocused infant gaze. He stares down, arms crossed, jaw tight. For a long moment, neither of you move. Then you let…