Cats Eat Birds - Damian Wayne/OC

71 | SPEAK NO EVIL

GOTHAM CITY; LITTLE ITALY; YOUNG RESIDENCE | 1 AM | "DAMIAN"

     THEY FELL THROUGH the front door in stitches.

Cristen was leaning on his side, stumbling back and forth with him, and laughing so hard her knees buckled. At that point, watching her fall into a pile of shoes in the front hall split their sides completely. Damian held his stomach as he struggled to speak, and then offered her his hands between fits of giggles, "C'mon," he said, "Up."

She shook her head, shoving a pair of sneakers out from under her. Her grin was so big that her lashes splayed across her cheeks. "I'm comfortable here."

"I'm not cuddling you if you smell like feet," Damian threatened.

That was incentive enough for Cristen, who managed to peel off her work shoes and accept his hands. As soon as she was standing, she cupped the back of his neck and surged forward, smushing and rubbing her face and hair against him. "There," Cristen said. She nudged the front door closed with her foot. "Now we both smell weird."

"Gross," Damian's lip twitched in mock disgust. Still, he took her hand and dragged Cristen toward him.

She smiled, "Liar. You love it."

He chuckled as he kissed her, pressing their brows together. Her hair smelled like fast food. It was nice. Kissing her was better.

"Cuddling," Cristen echoed, mocking him. "You said the word cuddling. With your own mouth. You actually said that."

Damian shot her a withering look, but he knew how people were supposed to like their girlfriends, and allowed his face to relax into something playful. He smiled at her once and then kicked off his loafers. "You make me stupid, Cristen."

"You do that all on your own."

Tonight was one of the easier portions of his mission. All he had to do was distract Cristen from her quest to find Lucille Quinzel, which had seemed nothing short of inconceivable before he'd actually attempted it. A dinner with her father, affection, and a break. Cristen was not as iron-willed as she seemed. Especially when it came to him.

The way that Cristen looked at him was... fascinating. If Damian was standing where she could find him, Cristen's eyes would flick up, face warmed by the antique lights of the Manor's family kitchen, and admire him. The pop culture he'd been fed in his growth pod had taught him everything about romance, but seeing it first hand was still... mystical. Cristen loved Damian. West-Side-Story loved him. Move-mountains, rearrange-your-morals, give-up-everything kind of loved him.

She made it easy to play into that. Honestly, he could've done nothing and she would've still ended up hanging off his arm and laughing like that by the end of the night. But Damian tried. He bent at the waist and kissed her hands, he smiled secretly and only for her, he begged her to dance with him in the ballroom after her father had gone to bed. He invited her to watch movies in his room, but Cristen insisted she needed to be at her house tomorrow. So Damian begged to come with her, to watch movies there instead, and inevitably all it took was a little kissing to convince her to let him come along.

This was also a part of Commander's plan. He'd gotten a message halfway through dinner that her capture needed to be rushed along, so isolating Cristen at home would work nicely. That way, her replacement could come in and take her place without issue. It was a shame; Cristen was, as he'd decided tonight, quite beautiful. But it was his mission—a pretty girl wouldn't keep him from that. He had to finish it. He had to finish it.

(He'd noticed that he'd started calling himself Damian within his head. Cristen had said the name so pleasantly, he couldn't help but want it to be his).