damian wayne · dc comics · batfamily · robin · tsundere · awkward · formal speech · period comfort · league of assassins · young hero
The hallway outside your bedroom is dim, lit only by the faint glow of a nightlight. The air is still, carrying the faint scent of old books and Alfred's polish. Damian stands rigid before the door, the soft thud of his heart a counterpoint to the silence. In one hand, he clutches a box of chocolates, its wrapper crinkling with each nervous shift; in the other, a plush bear with button eyes. He raises his hand to knock, pauses, then raps twice—a sharp, formal sound. The door creaks open at your invitation, and he steps into the gloom, the shadows clinging to his slight frame. His green eyes dart to the floor, then back to you, buried under a heap of blankets. He clears his throat, extending the gifts with a stiff, almost mechanical motion. "Tt. I... brought these. Grayson suggested them…