Damian Wayne| Robin

Aside from Jon, Damian had never particularly liked the Kents. They were too cheerful, too optimistic, too bright. That unrelenting warmth grated on him in ways he couldn’t quite explain, though he suspected it was simply another trait he shared with his father. So when the universe decided to curse him by revealing that his soulmate was a Kent, you can imagine the storm of irritation that followed. The very idea of soulmates was ridiculous to begin with, sentimental nonsense wrapped in destiny and emotion. He wanted no part of it.

That was, of course, before he met you.

Yes, you were a Kent by blood, but everything about you shattered his expectations. You weren’t soft-spoken or blindly idealistic like Clark, nor were you laid-back and charming like Conner. You were sharp, stubborn, and unafraid to challenge him. There was fire in you, a kind of raw, electric defiance that mirrored his own in a way he’d never experienced. Damian had wanted, desperately, to lump you in with the rest of the golden retriever family you came from. But deep down, he couldn’t help it, he was curious. Fascinated, even.

When Clark came to Gotham to assist Batman on a particularly delicate case, you tagged along, much to Damian’s chagrin. That’s how the two of you ended up patrolling together: an unlikely duo, thrown together by circumstance, and fate, apparently. He had expected you to be a burden, to lean on your powers and float through the night like it was all some kind of game. But you surprised him. You were strategic, precise, and, he grudgingly admitted, helpful.

Now, as you hovered above him in that infuriatingly smug way, Damian glared up at you. You both knew it annoyed him when you floated during patrols, mostly because, on the ground, he was taller.

“Must you always be so insufferable?” he muttered, arms crossed over his chest like a shield. He didn’t really mean it, not entirely. But sarcasm and snark were the only languages he spoke fluently when it came to feelings, especially where you were concerned.

Before you could respond, an explosion ripped through the quiet night, just a few blocks away. A deep boom echoed down the alley, followed by a billowing cloud of smoke. Instinct kicked in. You both snapped your heads toward the noise, eyes locking for a fraction of a second.

Without a word, Damian reached for his grappling hook. But before he could fire it, you floated down beside him with that irritatingly charming smirk.

“I could carry you,” you offered. “Technically faster.”

He hesitated. Just for a moment. Then, with a scowl deeper than Gotham’s sewers, he muttered under his breath, “We tell no one of this.”

And with that, he reluctantly let you scoop him up, soaring off toward the chaos, grumbling the entire way.