[closed] tale as old as time

[neverbatman]

[After their near disaster of a gala, Damian knew he had to make it up to Midii. Christmas was the best possible way to make it up, he figured. Gifts were a normal part of the holiday season, and he'd gone out of his way to shower his friends with material goods, whether they wanted it or not.

Some of his friends had resigned themselves to the inevitable and asked for reasonable gifts - Jai, for example, got season tickets for the local basketball team, and Iris got one of those fancy Fitbits that could (reasonably) calculate a speedster's rate.

Midii, though, needed something better. After much deliberation and arguing with a local calligrapher + screen printer, Damian ordered two things: one, for Midii to come meet him on the second floor of a coffee shop that his family owned, and two, a set of custom-printed Arabic calligraphy t-shirts. Nothing religious, for the Muslims who might cry cultural appropriation, but cultural sayings & shapes.

He's not expecting her super early, but he's looking a little nervous as he stares down at the gift bag he'd wrapped the latter in. Just once, he wishes the coffee shop could sell boosts of confidence with their lattes. He'd buy their entire stock out.]

Comments

[uneforgettable]

[She wasn't even mad anymore.]

[...okay, admittedly, she was never all that mad to begin with. A little put out by his arrogance and audacity to assume that she would just drop everything to attend a social gathering with him when she wasn't all that comfortable in that type of setting. Though that claim...might have held more weight if she hadn't subsequently attended said social gathering. With a smile, even.]

[Part of it was because Midii had simply grown used to Damian's ways. She could tell when he was trying, and when he was just being an ass. That night, he definitely hadn't been an ass. Just the opposite. After her initial freakout over the cameras, he'd taken care to guide her to a quieter, closed off area of the museum. To an exhibit which she'd absolutely loved. Had been fascinated by. Given her time to indulge in a bit of learning, and finding comfort in the knowledge that came with it. It had been perfect.]

[Well...nearly perfect. Give or take a few circumstances.]

[Still, it was enough to leave a faint smile on her face as she made her way to the coffee shop. Damian had asked to meet her on the second floor, not the first. She couldn't figure out why. They'd been there a few times in the past. It was...if she recalled correctly, one that his family owned or something. Probably. After a while, she'd stopped paying attention to that sort of thing. The point was, their meetings had always taken place in the front of the store, in a little booth by the main window. So they could people watch while they drank.]

[She entered the shop, sparing a glance over towards the counter and recognizing the barista behind it. A wave, and an indication upward told her that Damian was already here. Because of course he was.]

[She made her way up the stairs, calling out ahead of her:]

Damian?

[neverbatman]

Over here.

[Damian approaches her with a smile, holding out the gift bag with his right hand. It's unorthodox for him, to choose the second floor rather than their usual spot, but a special gift deserves a special place. He hasn't opened the double doors before him. They've got an old-fashioned key & lock too, rather than the keypad that he'd prefer. (The security's all the same, especially when his family owns the building, but... he's ignoring his Personal preference here.)

He lets out a breath as he says,] Sorry this is a little late. Happy early New Year?

[Whenever she opens the gift bag, she'll see those t-shirts. All replicas from the exhibit, with a few custom-made because he decided to. The other thing, at the very bottom? A key. One that might fit the lock for those double doors.]

[uneforgettable]

[He was up to something. Granted, for Damian, up to something could have been as simple as going a little overboard to get into her good graces again, so....]

A present? For me?

[All things considered, it was a sweet gesture.]

You could have just come over, you know.

[Still, it was with a fond, appreciative smile that she accepted the bag from him, moving to lean against the wall in the strangely limited space they currently had so she could maintain balance while opening it.]

[The first thing she saw was a pile of fabric. Interesting. She pulled the first one out, putting the bag down to free her hands so that she could open it up and see the design. Almost immediately, she recognized it. Not the specific design, of course--it was still in a written language she had yet to properly learn--but both the image itself and the current sentiment behind it. She supposed she had been rather obvious in her interest, but still...for him to have taken such a note as to come up with a gift like this...]

Oh, Damian...they're perfect!

[The first shirt was even in her size. Because of course it was.]

[She then reached down to pick up the bag, confirming her suspicions that each subsequent shirt were also varying designs from the same exhibit. A lot of them; she hadn't realized there were such a variety among available souvenirs. Although, before she could ponder exactly where (or how) he managed to find them all, something fell out of the bag when she pulled out the last t-shirt. It clattered against the floor.]

[Bending down, she held it up and realized it was a key.]

What's this?

[It was at the bottom of the bag...did Damian accidentally drop it in there when he was packing her gift?]

[neverbatman]

Wouldn't have been the same.

[Damian's grin is more genuine than arrogant this time as he folds his arms to observe her. Midii's reactions are the best, precisely because he can't predict them. Sure, he knows her like the back of his hand. He could rattle off a list unprompted, of things like her height, her favorite color, her favorite movie, that one band she listens to (way too much) - but he doesn't know her "enough."

He knew that she'd love the t-shirts. However, he wouldn't guess how her face lit up. They were t-shirts. Things she could wear over and over again, rather than a museum that she could explore after dark. They were easier to access and hold onto. Museums were pretty finicky that way, but still. T-shirts. The order didn't even cost him that much.

But when she holds up the key, he takes in a deep breath and gestures towards the double doors.]

I'm glad, but that? That's your real present.

[He's practically bouncing to contain his excitement. He'd planned this for months, far longer than the t-shirts that he'd ordered through the company. No, this took coordination and care (and silence on several assistants' ends). Midii deserved more than a mere gift bag.

Instead, she would hold the key to knowledge and truth and okay, maybe some of her favorite fiction novels, whenever she needed a place to escape from the world. She'd love this more than the shirts. He knew this from the bottom of his heart.]

[uneforgettable]

...this?

[The key?]

[No, he was indicating to the doors. Which the key must open, leading her to...whatever was on the other side. That would explain why he'd insisted she come all this way.]

[Whatever it was, he wasn't even bothering to hide how proud of himself he was for it. She couldn't help smiling in return as she crossed the remaining space, passing by his smirking face, and used the key to unlock the door, pushing it open when she heard the distinct 'click']

[They'd redecorated, she noticed first. A lot. Her eyes widened as she took in the walls of shelves, each containing more books than she'd ever seen outside a public library. Which, for her, was saying something. They wrapped all the way around, floor to ceiling, save for the occasional window or clearly literature-themed piece of art hanging on the walls.]

Oh...wow... [Momentarily distracted by the room itself, she cranked her head in a vain attempt to see if she could read some of the titles from where she stood; there was even a rolling ladder on one side to allow better access to the higher shelves.] I had no idea they'd changed the upstairs so much. It's...lovely.

[She could imagine herself coming here a lot more often now, if for the books alone.]

[Though, that still begged the question...]

So where is it? [Turning back to him with twinkling eyes, after scanning the area and finding absolutely nothing that looked like a present to her.] Or did you hide it somewhere in here? Do I at least get a clue?

first date!!

[neverbatman]

[Damian couldn't remember the last time he'd planned a date. High school, maybe? Wasn't like he could ask his family for help, because then they'd know. They would know, and they would want every little detail. (Honestly, they were Bats. They would get every little detail somehow.)

So he pulled some strings and arranged for a perfect first date at the Gotham Central library. They normally didn't have high tea on this day, but when Bruce Wayne's kid calls in a favor? Magic happens. Sure, patrons are coming and going, but that cafe in the courtyard is open for him and only for him.

He's waiting for Midii right outside the library, leaning against the brick wall as he plays a random cell phone game. If there's a supervillain on the loose, he doesn't want to know, because he's got far more pressing (and important) things.]

[uneforgettable]

[Tea at Gotham Central Library.]

[Midii had so many mixed feelings about his choice of a first date. Granted, most of them were positive. It was a touch more public than she would have initially preferred, but she supposed a public setting was something she would have to get used to. They'd already been spotted together at a Wayne function. Their friends (and his family) were all nosy. Somebody was going to put the pieces together eventually.]

[...unless, of course, she were to arrive--dressed in a simple, blue sundress with matching sandals--and discover that the entire courtyard was mysteriously void of anybody except her intended date for that afternoon.]

Damian. [In hindsight, she should have seen this coming, and sighed rather than frown at him.] You didn't.

[neverbatman]

[He bites on his lip (to hide that stupid grin of his) as he tucks his phone in his pocket and greets her.] I did, and you're welcome.

[Off to a great start already, and he'd worked overtime to figure out a perfect first date. Because he couldn't ask her to meet her in her private library again, and like he'd ask his family for help. Grayson and Drake were waiting to return the favor for one too many interrupted dates, and Mar'i wouldn't understand what a date was.

(He knew, because she'd handed him the fruit when he asked for the calendar date.)

Reaching out for Midii's hand, he tries to assuage her worries with,] Come on, it's high tea at the library. It was practically made for [you] us.

[uneforgettable]

[Worries? Not so much. It was more like a subtle...exasperation. Because he did, and as welcome as she was for it, that wouldn't change the fact that he was still throwing his money and influence around.]

[...for her.]

'Practically made for us', huh?

[Still, she stepped forward and accepted his hand. Offering hints of a smile of her own. He'd already gone through all the trouble of...having other people go through all the trouble on their behalf. Might as well see just how much.]

I guess...I can't say you don't know me too well.

[neverbatman]

[He doesn't quite breathe that sight of relief yet, but the tension's gone from his arms as he intertwines his fingers in hers.]

We've been friends for how long? [IE, it would be depressing if he didn't know her inside and out.] You've still got some secrets, but you're also talking to one of the world's best detectives.

[His modesty's getting better: he doesn't proclaim himself the best of the best anymore. But he'll lead her towards the cafe courtyard, where a waiter ushers them into the grand space. It's just the two of them today, and Damian's intent on making the most of it as he accepts a menu.

He doesn't need to read it. He might've come here before, just to make sure it was up to his standards.]

second verse, same as the first

[neverbatman]

[ Somehow, their first date hadn't ended in a total disaster.

Damian's taken precautions to ensure date #2 will go smoother. He's learned from renting out an entire restaurant for high tea, and he's also learned from taking her from fancy museum galas. Midii likes smaller, simpler dates. He'll snag her tickets for an afternoon matinee - Wonder Woman, of course - and then whisk her back to Wayne Manor for an early dinner.

The bustle of the movie theater seems normal. People are still buying tickets and ordering concessions. Damian's even waiting by the door as if nothing's wrong. When Midii arrives, he stuffs his cell phone in his pocket and flashes two tickets in her face. ]

See? I can totally do this "normal" thing.

[uneforgettable]

[For a split second, Midii very nearly went cross-eyed as two slips of paper were displayed mere inches from her nose, before she was able to learn far enough back to get a better look. As soon as she got a good look at the movie title, however, her entire face lit up.]

Wonder Woman? [Her desire to see the latest blockbuster hadn't been a secret, but she hadn't realized she'd conveyed her interest around him. Although, after a moment's pause, she glanced back over at him with a slightly raised eyebrow.] What do you mean "this 'normal' thing"?

[The corners of her lips twited in amusement. Typical Damian ego, even in the face of aforementioned normalicy.]

[neverbatman]

The one and only. [ Success!! Damian's chest puffs up with pride as he realizes that he had guessed correctly. Technically, Donna's held the title of Wonder Woman too at some point, but details. ] I could've just asked the director for a final cut, but no, you wanted to see it in the theater like everyone else.

[ An unintentional perk of being Damian Wayne: access to just about all of Hollywood's executives. Not that he's ever used it for nefarious purposes. He knows that a real favor would in turn mean that he would have to give in return, and he's not sure what he could do without revealing his true hand.

That, and he's got an image (and his own reclusive public persona) to maintain. ]

So. You, me, and a normal movie theater. Like I promised.

[uneforgettable]

I did. And you listened.

[She was so proud.]

[Not that Midii never appreciated the grandiose gestures. She did. Very much. Each and every time, it had been something not only that demonstrate how well he knew her, but also very...Damian. There was really no other way she could describe it. But there was also something to be said for quiet normalcy , and she equally appreciated the fact that, maybe, just this once, they could have the kind of date either one of them could have arranged.]

Which theater? I can get us some popcorn, and meet you inside.

[neverbatman]

Number two, but we can go together. [ It's not like he cares about getting a good seat. The company is, and always will be, far more important – or so he would claim if Midii were asking.

Damian can't say he understands "normal" dates but the small gestures seem to impress her more than the grandiose ones he prefers. It's like a puzzle – the kind that even Grayson can solve. Which in turn frustrates him even more. He should be able to piece it together. He should, but then the picture changes and he has to start all over again.

Without another word, he stuffs the tickets back into his pockets and motions for her to get in line with him. He's played no special tricks here: they'll have to wait like everyone else. ]

I want the biggest kind they have.

[ Even if it may make him too sick for patrols later. It's a risk he'll have to take. ]

third time isn't the charm

[neverbatman]

[ There shouldn't have been a way to screw up their third date.

Damian had accounted for everything this time. A normal sit-down lunch at a cafe, with zero special treatment. He remembered the high tea, and honestly, people paid less attention to a Wayne if he acted inconspicuously. (No one paid them any mind, and with the rare burst of good weather, he'd enjoyed sitting outside under the shade of the umbrella.)

Then there was the afternoon film festival - and beyond acquiring VIP tickets, he hadn't lifted a single finger. They would have to wait in line for the screening like everyone else.

When he's waiting with Midii, though, he doesn't mind. The director and the leads are hosting a Q&A panel afterwards, and that should be entertaining. Once they're inside, Damian gives Midii a smug grin. ]

See? I told you I was totally capable of -

[ The screen in front of them breaks as a local supervillain bursts through, and Damian can only stare in horror as the doors lock right behind them. For better or worse, they're being held hostage, and the show can't go on.

He can't even change and save the day. His eyes narrow, and instead of screaming like everyone else, he slumps in his seat.

To himself, a little too loudly: ] Dammit.

[uneforgettable]

[Damian had tried so hard. He'd gotten so far, and in the end...]

[The first part of their day had been perfect. Public, but not too public. Warm weather, but not overbearingly hot. A menu which she could have easily fit into her current budget. Tea. Really, really good tea, too. She'd very nearly embarrassed herself at first sip, just barely holding back a low hum of euphoria as the delicious flavors washed over her tongue. They'd sat and chattered about light-hearted subjects, her sandwich was something she hadn't tried before but still enjoyed.]

[Even the film festival...she really couldn't say much about getting VIP tickets. Compared to the cost of their last date, it was a drop in the bucket financially. Pricy, yes, but something one could reasonably afford if they'd saved up for a bit. And Midii had never found waiting in line to be so entertaining in her life.]

[Then the movie screen basically exploded out a bunch of criminals. And suddenly, they were both sitting on the floor near the side of the theater, backs against the wall, surrounded by dozens of other hostages.]

[It would have been a lie to say those first few seconds weren't filled with panic. She had no idea what was happening, or the severity of the situation, or what level of danger they were in. Fear caused her to grip Damian's arm in panic.]

[An action which...in hindsight, she was nearly regretting.]

[Amateurs, the lot of them. Half the theater had managed to escape before they could gather up enough people. They'd only come in one way, opting for the element of showmanship over practicality. Their weapons were clunky and over the top. And...were those...were they really wearing ski masks? Plain, black, face-covering bits of fabric that were fine if you were tackling the bitter Gotham winter winds, but would have hindered hearing to the point where it was almost comedic listening to two of the lesser members fumble their way through a low conversation.]

[Ten minutes into the situation, Midii wasn't even sure which part of the whole scenario was more popcorn-worthy: the "super-villains" attempting every cliche in the criminal book, or the look on Damian's face as he struggled to maintain his civilian facade.]

I don't have my phone on me. Do you?

[She tried to whisper as softly as she could, trusting his hearing to pick up on the question. Better for him to have one, if so, because the numbers in her phone book wouldn't be much help to anyone.]

[neverbatman]

[ Supervillains and Gotham were like ice cream and sprinkles; locals were completely accustomed to their presence. Public schools offered martial arts during PE, and Joker venom antidotes were sold over-the-counter at Duane Reade's. So for Midii to clutch his arm? Damian instinctively glances over, wondering if he should break the facade then and there. His girlfriend's safety is far more important than these morons, and it's not like he's a stranger to beating local villains up.

In fact, beatdowns were less violent than his former go-to method of decapitation.

(May Midii never, ever find out.)

Once the morons had somehow bumbled their way through a speech - and bumbling was an understatement, for how they were cobbling together words from villains past and arguing over their catchphrase. Their weapons were shiny, gaudy, and impractical. The screen had been effectively torn in half, and the doors had been locked.... by the movie theater's staff, from the sounds of it. The intercomm has the manager reading the riot act.

Honestly. These Z-listers made the Central City Rogues look like Olympians.

He nods at Midii's question, but it's not his phone he pulls out. Instead, he discretely flips open the top of his wristwatch and taps a quick code. To anyone else, it would look like a watch's password. To Damian, it's a security precaution from Oracle, and a sign that someone decided to kidnap him in civilian form at some formal ball.

If it were only him, Damian wouldn't have bothered. He could play the badass bystander and get everyone to safety. But with Midii by his side, he'd deal with the teasing from his older siblings. Putting his watch back in place, he slides up against the wall and nods. Just as softly: ] We're gonna be okay. I promise.

[uneforgettable]

I know.

[She didn't know the details of how Damian's watch worked, exactly. Something something for emergencies like these. But she knew the minute he started fiddling with it that help would be reached.]

[Yet another mistake the bubbling idiots in black had made: not immediately confiscating watches and cell phones from the area. In fact, they didn't seem very interested in confiscating much of anything. The ring leader--who was, of course, still standing in front of the broken movie screen, as if it were his private stage, was arguing something into either a walkie-talkie or a really clunky phone. A couple of the lackeys were roaming up and down the rows of chairs, and Midii couldn't stop from rolling her eyes when she saw them bypass two teen girls who were hiding beneath the seats, visible to everybody save for the people activity looking for them.]

I'm starting to feel insulted these are the people threatening us.

[neverbatman]

Makes you wonder what they even want...

[ A social media presence? The fear and terror of apathetic citizens? Damian scans the area as he had been taught: the exits were locked, the ringleader was preoccupied, and the lackeys were "securing" the premises. He shakes his head in dismay.

Father had been kidnapped by more competent goons. This, honestly, was the only kind of misfortune that could befall a Wayne.

Then the director and one of the leads tries to sneak out the door - and right away, the lackeys seize them by their wrists and handcuff them. With what don't even look like legitimate handcuffs.

Damian's sigh is one of total recognition (and honestly, frustration).]

Of course. It couldn't be world domination like everyone else.

[ If only he could knock out one of the lackeys... if only they could walk by a little closer.... then maybe they would have a shot of escaping before the cavalry arrived. ]

meet the (bat)family

[neverbatman]

It had to happen eventually. Damian wasn't sure when the atmosphere in Wayne Manor shifted from general stuffiness to this unbearable, awkward tension - but it must've been as soon as he and Midii entered. (No other rhyme. No other explanation.)

He'd promised her that she could borrow his copy of Simon Snow - and even though he could afford to ship her the whole series, she preferred his? Damian didn't get it. He really didn't get it. He must've whined to Jon and Grayson too much about it, though, because he could've sworn he heard footsteps.

Funny, because the family really shouldn't have been at home this hour. He'd timed it just to prevent Brown or Grayson or even Drake from uttering some nonsensical insult and aggravating him to the point of assault. Or a well-timed "accidental" hit, anyway.

(He liked it better that way. Less stress on everyone involved.)

As he turns the lights on, Damian draws a breath and turns towards the maze that's known as the first floor.

"We shouldn't be long," he says, more to himself than anything. "I know uh, you probably wanna get back soon."

[uneforgettable]

Midii refrained on commenting just yet, smiling faintly back as she followed Damian down the hall.

In truth...she had no major plans for that day. No pressing need to leave. And while part of her was nervous about being at Wayne Manor, particularly at a time where his family were all around (a curious and rare phenomenon, it seemed, judging from Damian's reaction), her curiosity won out. She declined every offer he made to gift her the book set, insisting that it was better if she borrowed his. It had technically been his idea first, anyway.

The Manor itself was about what she had expected. Large and cold and far too large for even the number of people that seemed to live there. Her eyes could barely take in everything as she did her best to keep up with him. The last thing she needed was to end up lost. There were footsteps in the distance. Voices. Too far and with too much of an echo to discern a proper location. Just distinct enough to tell it was a man and a woman, and they were most likely conversing together. At one point, the woman even laughed.

When they finally made it to the library--or was it a study?--Damian pushed open the door. And Midii saw only the books, jaw dropping in a moment of genuine awe. She took a step inside, marveling at not only the old school aesthetic of the room, but the way the air even smelled of paper and dust. It reminded her of an old bookshop she used to frequent during her early teenage years. Books she could never afford more than a couple times a year, but that she often skimmed through while the owner looked the other way

So captivated was she that it took her an embarrassingly long time to realize they were not the only people in the room. A young man a few years older than them, at least, was sitting in one of the large chairs, a cup of tea on the table beside him and nose buried in what appeared to be some sort of science nonfiction book--physics, judging from the diagram on the front cover.

The man glanced up from his book and, at the sight of the two of them together, raised an amused eyebrow. There were no signs of surprise to his expression.

[neverbatman]

"I should've known you'd be here."

Damian's stance immediately grows guarded and tall, as if he's trying to impose on this relative with all of his physical might. He's taller than this man, anyway, even if it's hard to tell from this vantage point.

He was embarrassed enough that his entire family was home. Usually, there were meetings or patrols or other obligations that kept them apart. Damian had timed everything so. Back when he had been dating Milagro, he had learned his lesson. He had seen first-hand just how embarrassing the family could be - and Drake knew it too.

"Anyway," he turns to Midii, pointedly ignoring the relative, "It's over in the fiction section. Don't mind Drake over there."

At least the library is helpfully labeled, with a few newer, less dusty bookshelves for their newer works. Damian's already turning on his heels, intent on avoiding a conversation with this relative for as long as he has to.

[uneforgettable]

Midii took her cues from Damian. At first. For a family that was just barely related by blood, the resemblances between them all remained a constant surprise. More than hair and eyes--it was the air about the young man that immediately pegged him as a member of the Wayne Household. That aura of confidence. Those inquisitive eyes. Watching and observing them both.

...of course, the amused grin on his face was a far cry from Damian's cocky smirk.

"What, no introductions?" Tim peered up over the cover, though he saw little need to actually put it down. In fact, while he spoke, he turned a page and continued reading. "What would Alfred think of your manners?"

Midii decided two things right there and then: she liked Tim, and she was absolutely not going to tell Damian this fact.

"Your fiction section is pretty big," She pointed out, glancing at the high ceiling. "Do you know exactly where?"

[neverbatman]

"The same as always," Damon says with a barely-contained laugh. In what is quite possibly the worst accent that anyone's heard, he even adds, "That they're non-existent, good sir."

At least he has the decency to acknowledge his disgust. Of all the brothers that they had to run into first, it had to be Drake.

"Anyway, uh - " He coughs, properly shamed into an introduction. "Drake, this is Midii. Midii, that's Tim, my older brother."

At her question, he stops, following her gaze before reaching for a ladder. If his memory was incorrect - and it just might be - they would be here for far longer than they anticipated. "Uh... I'm thinking the second bookshelf."

Hopefully. With those dusty spines, it was hard to tell.