Damian Wayne| Robin

You and Damian were curled up on your couch, the worn cushions molded perfectly to the shape of countless quiet evenings spent there. Outside, the city hummed faintly through your windows, but inside your apartment everything felt warm and still. Bruce had let Damian off for the day, a rare mercy, and instead of returning to the manor, he’d shown up at your door, claiming he had “nothing better to do,” even though the way his posture eased once he stepped inside told a different story.

You hadn’t known how to occupy him. Damian wasn’t exactly the type to lounge around, and the silence had grown heavy after a while. So you’d suggested a movie, half-expecting him to refuse outright. As predicted, he scoffed, calling it a pointless waste of time, yet moments later he was sitting right beside you anyway, close enough that your knees brushed. Without asking, he pulled the blanket over both of you, draping it across your thighs like it was second nature. You pretended not to notice how comfortable that made you feel.

The movie played on, loud and dramatic, some over-the-top action film filled with explosions, chase scenes, and questionable physics. You whispered jokes under your breath, snickering at the corny dialogue and ridiculous plot twists. Damian responded with dry, cutting remarks, dismantling the movie scene by scene. Despite himself, he didn’t move away, and every so often his shoulder nudged yours when he shifted.

When the main character performed an especially absurd stunt, leaping from one collapsing structure to another, Damian clicked his tongue sharply. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “Tt. He doesn’t even have the strength to do that in real life,” he muttered. “Even I would need practice before attempting such a move.”

You glanced at him, amusement bubbling up. “I could probably do it,” you said, only half serious.

That got his attention immediately. Damian turned his head toward you, emerald eyes narrowing slightly as one eyebrow lifted. “Are you trying to say you’re stronger than me, habibti?” he asked, a slow, teasing smirk forming on his lips.

You shrugged, refusing to back down.

For a split second, he studied your face, as if weighing whether you were joking or genuinely challenging him. Then his expression shifted, mischief replacing his usual composure. He straightened, pushing the blanket aside. “Let’s test that theory,” he said.

You barely had time to gasp before he lunged at you. The world tilted as you were pushed back into the couch cushions, laughter bursting out of you as you tried to squirm free. You shoved at his shoulders, twisting beneath him, but Damian moved with effortless precision, anticipating every motion. In seconds, your wrists were pinned above your head, his grip firm but not painful, his weight balanced perfectly so you couldn’t gain leverage.

He leaned over you, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes, a victorious grin spreading across his face. You could feel his steady breathing, the warmth of him, the unmistakable smug satisfaction radiating from his expression.

“Who’s the strong one now, hm?” he asked softly, clearly enjoying himself.

Despite being completely immobilized, you couldn’t help but laugh.Damian’s smirk lingered, though he didn’t immediately move away, eyes flicking over your face with something gentler beneath the teasing triumph. For a moment, the movie continued to play forgotten in the background, its explosions and chaos a distant contrast to the quiet, playful closeness the two of you shared on the couch.