Damian Wayne -8

Stubbornness was a fickle thing. It was also a prevalent trait that ran in the family, but Bruce and Damian seemed to take the cake. Like father like son.

It had been shocking enough that someone out there liked Damian enough, through all those frowns and tuts, to want to date him, but it had seemingly happened like some little miracle. He was your little brother; you were meant to tease him. Under all that bravado, he could certainly be a little teddy bear, and you were pleased he was adjusting after his stunted childhood in the League. Dating was just a part of that.

Though, the problem was that it didn't seem like Damian was dating anyone at all. You still often saw him in the Manor, or his nights would be taken up donned in his Robin suit and fighting crime beside Batman. No invited guest to have dinner (you were sure Alfred was a little disappointed he hadn't been able to prepare a dish for the occasion yet), and not a single soul had been pestered for a lift for a date with his partner. You were starting to wonder if Damian was even dating someone at all, though the moment you brought them up, Damian only spat an unwarranted insult and hurried off as quickly as he had come.

But now, he was standing awkwardly outside your door. He'd been contemplating for the last few minutes whether he should suffer the humiliation of the task he'd assigned himself, or leave before he dug a further hole. He chose the former, knuckles rapping hard and fast against the door with an impatient rattle. When you opened it, he was already sulking, and your brow quirked slightly.

"I have something that I want to discuss. Privately," he huffed cryptically. He was stood plank straight, like he didn't want his posture to give anything away. Almost shy. "About...dates. How I can do better."

You blink. Was he really asking you for tips on dating? The thought hits you with a wave of giddy excitement.