DamiRae Oneshots

Rainy Nights

Nightmares. Not the most elegant, obviously. They make you sweat, heart beat accelerate, and everything else on the checklist of: "Wheel of Misfortune" as Grayson would put it.

But what about experiencing nightmares when you're an outmatched ex-assassin turned hero, who is now part of a team of heroes your own age, who just a week before survived one of your worst enemies? The kind of nightmares where you remember how your home was taken away from you? How you remember the face of the man who murdered your Grandfather? The man who almost killed your team? The man who manipulated someone you began to trust only to get captured, beaten and tortured? These were the thoughts that were racing through Damian's head at a hundred miles per hour. This was not him. He would never let this kind of stuff get to him. He's an Al-Ghul and the Son of Batman. But he still couldn't sleep.

"Sometimes, Damian, you got to grieve." He remembered Drake saying to him, once, after a terrible run in with the Joker. The encounter costed Gotham the lives of five police officers. "It doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."

He growled as he rolled onto his back on his bed. The room was quiet, save for the beating of his heart in his ears and the occasional crack of thunder. It didn't put him on edge, though. Rain happened all the time in Gotham. But he wasn't in Gotham, and the rain that pelted his window sounded innocent and pleasant in Jump City compared to the gloomy depressive theme that he was used to in Gotham. He looked at his bedside and found the alarm clock sitting on his nightstand.

He grimaced as he saw in glowing orange light showing the time 3:48AM, as if the clock was playing a cruel joke on him. This left him with a choice: he could continue his futile conquest for sleep, or do something productive. He immediately went for the latter and got up. He put on a black turtle neck with gray sweatpants, and made his way to the kitchen to find something to keep him up. If he was going to do something productive - like training - he needed to be absolutely alert, even if he wasn't tired.

* * *

There are many things you can find in the kitchen: Grayson's horrible cooking leftovers in the fridge, Logan and Reyes' disgusting assortment of sugar drinks that made Damian grit his teeth, and than Raven's tea. He stopped in his tracks.

Raven.

The girl with the eyes of tanzanite that - if he wasn't too careful - could catch him off his guard. Yes, he pondered why whenever she was near his vicinity his heart rate would increase. It wasn't the kind of cardiovascular problem that would cause distress, and he knew that he doesn't have Generalized Anxiety Disorder, but it still vexed him. He once looked it up and found WebMD, which said he had heart disease, and he knew THAT was absolutely idiotic.

Damian shook his head. He'd just drink iced water; no way would he get in between Raven and her tea. That was almost as bad as cursing in front of Alfred.

You don't curse in front of Alfred.

As he took a sip of his cold beverage, he noticed that he wasn't alone. It wasn't like he was paranoid, he could just sense that the room had been disturbed. He set his glass down and sighed. "Sneaking up on me is kind of a death.." he grunted the words as he turned around and was taken aback when his emerald eyes met tanzanite. "...wish."

Before him stood Raven, who gently smiled in her cup of Earl Gray that she was holding. She wore a dark blue oversized sweatshirt that fell right above her knees, and black sweatpants to compliment it. Damian inwardly cursed. Did she put a spell on him that made him actually enjoy her company? No, that was foolish. Like a child believing in the bogeyman. "What is it, bird-brain? Cat got your tongue?" Her monotone voice dripped with humor. Damian shrugged, "More so 'why are you awake?' than anything."