Description: 1k followers Damian Wayne imagine, with the prompt TRUST.

Words: 7228

Notes: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER YOU GUYYYSSSS UGH. I got MAJOR writers block half-way through, and when I get it, it never seems to go away. I tried to make it long, but the ending kind of sucks in my opinion. Thank you all so much for following me, and I promise we'll get things in motion again soon =D

_

"[You could be executed for this.]" Damian hisses in his mother tongue.

The smell of wet earth and greenery seeps into Damian's youthful skin, leaving it moist with the jungle's damp, fruity air. It wasn't often that he left Nanda Parbat, but Talia had grown annoyed with his restless behavior and decided to drag him along on one of her trades with the weapon-dealers in the nearby islands. The nearby, exotic island populated with tropical animals and co-existing tribes of fisherman on the island's East-side. They were a religious bunch that believed the area's rain-forest held deep secrets they were too afraid to unearth. Y/N L/N—the insufferable girl that Ra's had hired to train their new members—was not nearly as afraid.

Why his grandfather would entrust a pre-teenager with the strength of the League's men, Damian had little clue, which was almost as frustrating as you were. Within the weeks had been in your presence, you had managed to accomplish few things of interest. Well, if you could call defeating Damian in combat, protecting Talia during a battle when she had not been paying attention, and impressing Ra's with your psionic energy manipulation abilities, "things of interest". (Which they most definitely were). They were just things that Damian was going to ignore in favor of himself.

He still refuses to believe that you ever bested him—both during training and outside it, when you'd smile at him and his cheeks would flare, or you would humbly inform him that he was still an excellent fighter (even if you had won that match. And the one after that). With every compliment and smile you sent his way Damian found his blood absolutely boiling, in both anger and a blush. He hated you. He hated what you did to him.

You didn't belong there, among people like Ra's and Nyssa, you were too... generous. Too gentle, even if Damian had just hours ago witnessed you stab your sword into a training dummy, tearing it so harshly it's stuffing came out in cloudy chunks. But this gentleness could simply be a front—you were very dangerous, and Damian wasn't about to let you send the League up in flames. You couldn't be trusted. Regardless of what his heart told him, or whoever vouched on your behalf. So when you begin to drag him into the forest in search of an adventure he doesn't resist. To make sure you're not up to something. Definitely not so he could spend more time with you.

"[For what? Showing you how to have fun?]" You said innocently. Damian watched as you lifted the skirt of your dress, pulling a knife from its sheath around your thigh, then proceeding to cut the fabric around your knees for better mobility. The thin decorated fabric fell loosely at your feet, like watching a feather fall from a great height. The fabrics' sway as it descends is almost surreal.

"[No, you idiot. For capturing me and sneaking off into the woods without permission.]" Damian said. He had not uncrossed his arms since you had entered the mouth of the jungle.

"[I didn't capture you,]" You laughed, then cast him a smart glance over your shoulder,"[And who said I didn't get permission?]"

Damian didn't know how to respond. The few girls that he communicated with were his mother and then the maids, and they weren't as confusing nor as agitating as you. It was always and only you who managed to spike his nerves or make him anxious, make his blood simmer and his stomach buzz like a hive. At this moment his skin was on fire, but that could easily be excused for the climate. Talia and Ra's had trained Damian for everything... except for you.

"[Where are you taking me?]" Damian questioned.

Beneath your skirt was a pair of leggings and a pair of flats you had replaced with boots. You secured the jagged scrap of fabric to your waist, and then began to march off, expecting him to follow you. Damian only did so his question would be answered.

"[On an adventure.]" You respond courageously, using your blade to cut a path between thick leaves and low-hung vines. Damian stomped after you. The air was damp and sung with the chirps of bugs and animals of the rainforest, scraggly roots mindlessly braided into the uneven terrain, fractals of sunlight slicing through the holes in the canopy. It fell onto your hair and made your skin seem like those of the models in American skin-care commercials, glossy and soft.

Damian scoffed,"[What are you? Five? Don't tell me this is your way of playing pretend.]"

You kept marching,"[Then I won't. But I found this place in the jungle yesterday, and I wanted to show it to you.]"

You and Damian surfaced the uneven ground of the jungle. As you traversed deeper, Damian could hear thunder rolling in the distance—but there were no storm clouds even approaching on the horizon, and judging by how the Earth trembled Damian determined the sound was a waterfall. Suddenly, you pushed back a leaf and faced the flat, rocky shores of a river, bleeding down from the cliffside above and smoothing down the riverbed. He could feel the spray against his exposed skin. The water was alive and wild, but clearer than any substance he had expected from the island. Distracted by the scene, Damian only caught the end of your performance as you leaped up and sprung yourself onto one of the low-hanging branches of a tree.

When you landed and perched upon the wood like a frog, the branch bouncing beneath your weight, he scowled up at you and questioned,"[Why?]"

You flashed a devilish grin, one that made his stomach stir with a sickness he couldn't name. An "illness" that came about only when you were present. Before you swung from another branch and caught yourself on the wall of brick-like rocks, you said,"[Because I like you.]"

Damian hated how he stood there like an idiot, watching you scale the rock, face steaming and heart hammering. No one had ever professed such a thing. Damian was aware that his mother and grandfather liked him, but not in this way. No one had ever told them that they liked him, even if platonic. He hates how he stutters,"[And—And why should I-I follow you? This could be a trap.]" Damian countered.

You sighed. Then, you hung from the wall by one hand, using the other to cast a crackling platform of (color) energy at Damian's feet. You yelled over the waterfall, the high, childlike tone barely meeting his ears,"[Just trust me!]"

Damian had very little reason to do so. Sure, Ra's trusted you... but Damian was no fool. As much as he admired his grandfather, the man was on the verge of insanity. But Talia trusted you too. Either way, Damian didn't need them to influence his decisions. One day, he would command them. And, as much as Damian hated to admit it, you would be a valuable asset to that future. To Damian in general, as well.

Stubbornly, Damian huffed, backing away from the platform. Then he sprung forward, leaping up the trunk of the tree and flipping himself onto a higher branch. From there he captured the cliff-side stone in his hands, looking down at you with a very smug grin."[Fine. Lead the way.]"

You didn't appreciate his actions and his domineering. The one thing Damian had found interesting about you was your weakness for exhaustion. You couldn't use your powers often, especially in large or random bursts. So when you smirk, (color) energy encasing your body, Damian feels a lot more than just challenged.

"[I think I may have found a shortcut.]" Then, you pushed yourself off the wall and allowed yourself to fall toward the rocks below. Damian instinctively reached out to grab your wrist, and when he did, your powers sent you sailing into the air, Damian clinging to your arm for dear life as you flew above the canopies and atop the rough mountain side. He heard you whooping happily, and as you began to retreat back to Earth the boy felt his body go light with weightlessness. He had little time to recover from the short high, as your landing wasn't as graceful as Damian assumed it would be. He abandoned your wrist and ducked and rolled, staining his pristine clothing with mossy grass.

Damian steadied his hands into the grass to keep from attacking you mid-landing. Your boots lightly met the cliff's crest with much more poise than Damian's entrance, and he scowled as a result."[I hate you.]"

"[I hate you too.]" You smiled.

Damian raised himself to his feet, brushing dirt and grass from himself and surveying the new terrain. You were nestled in one of the largest plains of the mountain, overhung with sun-strengthened trees and heavy-headed branches strung with fruit. He snorts,"[I thought you said you liked me?]"

But you don't respond. Damian turns to see you overlooking the rainforest. By now, the sun is just beginning to set, it's pink and orange hues blending with the clouds and surfacing over the water on the horizon, like a ripe fruit ready for the plucking. Or a sun-blossom, staring back at him from over a sea of flora, but still sticking out... in the same way you have.

Damian refuses to let his awe of the scenery silence him, but he doesn't look away either."[Why did you want to show me this?]"

"[I heard you liked painting. I figured it would be nice to draw a sunset that wasn't over Nanda Parbat,]" You confessed, crossing your arms proudly like you were an adventurer that completed their quest. You cast him a sly glance,"[... And because I like you.]"

_

Swords clashed, slicing and biting against one another, their wielder's arms and legs wobbling with the force of their strength. This was a like very, very dangerous game of arm wrestling with even more dangerous outcomes. But you weren't going to give in. Damian wasn't going to give in. You held his gaze as sweat poured down your faces, and you dug your feet into the dirt for extra leverage. Damian did the same and pushed the base of his blade harder against yours. It went back and forth like that as it had for the last few minutes, until you gave in and rolled your eyes. You could manipulate the human thought process—it wouldn't kill you to let Damian win once.

When you pulled back, Damian grinned and huffed triumphantly. You swatted off the look as you steadied your heavy breathing. Before Damian could get out a snobbish comment, you admitted,"I let you win."

Damian, of course, didn't believe this. He scoffed and crossed his arms,"Oh, please, L/N. There isn't a universe in the multiverse where that's true."

You could only shake it off. Damian said things like that all the time, but you couldn't blame him; he was raised in an environment of pure judgment and scrutiny, fighting for praise like a lion cub fighting for a piece of game. You were raised under the care of a loving mother, who would always put you before anything and raised you to have unending kindness; Ra's had said that was your one and only weakness, but you still couldn't see how being nice to people was ever something bad. Even when you were on the run from your mother's hunters (and later killers), even when they held a knife to her throat, she remained civil and never hostile. You could still feel her hand stroking your face and the heat of her body as she cradled you. You remembered how her voice carried softly through your many hiding places, sinking into the mud-brick of an isolated village, or echoing off the walls of a train station platform.

Damian had never received a mother's true love, even if Talia was alive and well. You certainly didn't pity him—you knew what it felt like to be pitied, and it's the worst thing next to heartbreak and numbness. You wanted to be there for him, like your mother was there for the village children, how she inspired you to do the same in others who needed it. You hadn't liked him at all in the beginning. He was a spoiled, entitled brat who got whatever he wanted as long as he stayed out of mommy's business. But after you had a nightmare and accidentally went into Damian's dreams, you had done a lot more than just stepped in his shoes. You had been Damian Wayne, if only for a few moments, and it taught you to realize there was a boy trapped beneath his thick skin. Even now, he's clawing and begging to get out. Damian's instinct to avoid "weak" emotions fights him off.

You sighed. Fighting physically was one thing, but verbally... those kinds of fights were to be avoided with Damian. So instead, you opted for a different approach. You had five days on this island and you'd already gone through three of them. Soon, the other buyers for the island's weaponry operation would be arriving, then Talia would win, then you'd be home-bound with a cargo-hold stuffed with AK-47s and grenades. (All totally safe, of course). Surely, Damian had done something interesting in the time you had not been with him.

"[So,]" You started, sheathing your katana and placing it on the rack with the others. Damian kept his at his side—still convinced you were a threat, no doubt—but laid his hands on his hips, brows drawn together and chest puffed. Why aren't you upset I've won? His gaze seemed to read. You could only shake your head internally."[Did you ever get around to painting that sunset I showed you? I know one of the Deal Masters gifted you a set of paint supplies.]"

"[Only to win over my mother.]" Damian snorted, which may have been true, but he was avoiding things. You stayed silent, your lack of response eventually pushing an answer out of him. A growl too, but at least you got your answer."[... And I may have ventured there to finish it yesterday...]"

"[Let me see!]" You cried, shaking your fists in excitement. Little (color) sparks shot from your hands. Damian eyed them wearily, and then gave you a look of absolute conviction within his glare. He didn't need to speak to inform you that was a solid,"Hell no."

In a sudden rush of energy, your hands were sheltering Damian's, you pleaded,"[If you really don't want to show me, you don't have to! But I know for a fact you are an amazing artist and I—]"

Damian tore his hands from your own and hid them beneath his arms. His face flared violet and his bare feet fisted in the mat of the dojo."[Fine! I'll show you, but only if you don't do that again...]" Damian turned his face away when you beamed at him, but brushed off the flustered and flattered body language by starting toward his temporary room.

You nodded a greeting to the guards, who respectfully bowed their heads as Damian pushed apart the doors and entered. You could practically see steam radiating from his cheeks and ears from how hot they were. Everything was still half unpacked, and the few things that weren't had been laid out on his bed and a nearby dresser. While you admired the jagged curvature of one of the many daggers strewn about his comforter, Damian shuffled over to the drying canvas. You could tell he was having second thoughts on showing it to you... but really, how could you not be curious? You had briefly viewed one of Damian's sketches, and if this painting was anything like that...

You popped up behind him, and for a moment Damian pulled the piece towards his chest, shielding it from your view. But something in you must have compelled him to do otherwise, so he spun and held it out for you to see. You watch the expectancy morph his face and pull it taut. And then you look at the painting, and it looks so real it's more of a picture than anything.

Damian has recreated the sun on the glossy, wet leaves of the canopy trees, an endless sea that the sun bobs upon, with the hues of the sky blended to perfection, and every branch and bough of plant life beneath your ridge has been brought into being with Damian's paintbrush. The paint is layered thickly enough for some vines to snake off the surface, and the distant waves almost seem to be swaying and rocking with the ocean's beat.

"[This is...]" You can't find the words to describe how truly beautiful such a sight was. It was like a picture."[... Beautiful. And—And so realistic! How did you do this, Damian?]"

Damian's face grew hot again, and he shuffled his feet as you took the painting from his hands and admired it. It was the kind of thing you'd find in an art museum, among other ancient masterpieces with beautiful landscapes and gorgeous faces. The painting's perspective is from the cliff-side you had shown Damian, but further back and almost retreated toward the trees. At the picture's center, on the edge of the ledge, sits to shadows. One is distinctly Damian Wayne, and the other is distinctly you. It makes your smile widen by an impossible fraction.

"[I'd pay to have that hung in my bedroom.]" You laughed, offering it back to him.

Damian peered down at the painting as you extended it. His face was still scarlet and his hands were bunched into his arms, but his stance relaxed even if his expression didn't. Seriously, Damian stated,"[Then keep it.]"

You felt your heart jolt with something at his words. Damian Wayne is not the type to gift. And you've learned that after observing and "hanging out" with him for a long time, a period in which you'd only felt a need to heal him. Now, it may be just a bit more than the want to heal, but the want to care.

"[Damian...]" You began slowly. As much as you loved the piece, you couldn't take this from him.

"[What? It's not like a put a camera or a tracker in it.]" Damian scoffed, awkward and defensive as the sight of his feet suddenly became very interesting.

You laughed again,"[Yeah, right. I wouldn't exactly be surprised. But I think you should keep it, it's very beautiful...]"

"[You're keeping it. I don't want it.]" Damian lied firmly, and then pushed the painting into your arms. He watched the smile grow on your face once more, scowling as he did, and returned to protecting his chest with crossed arms.

"[Okay,]" You said."[But before I go to my room and put this up... I heard the islanders talking about hearing noises in the jungle last night...]"

"[What kind of noises?]" Damian inquired, a slow smirk creeping onto his face.

"[The dangerous kind.]" You responded. You raised an eyebrow and you mirrored him,"[Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Damian?]"

Damian's smirk transformed into a brilliant, mischievous grin. The boy raised his hand,"[Investigate?]"

You clasped Damian's hand and shook it, the same look of trouble lingering there."[Investigate.]"

_  

You resurface only briefly from your memories, the sound of Batman's commanding voice pouring back into your ears like a floodgate opening. It is powerful and demands your attention, but in it you can hear Damian, and in Batman you can see Damian too. The way their heads and hands are shaped, similar lips and jawlines. Your heart flutters in your chest wildly. Had it really been... what, a year and a half since you had seen him? That seemed too wrong and too long.

The moment that Damian was brought into Batman's world he had tried to keep the remains of his old life, but Talia had to reconstruct the league from the ashes left behind in Slade's wake, and you... Damian had made it clear he wanted you to come.

"She's my best friend!" Damian