The sunlight in Happy Harbor felt different than anywhere else. Warm, unhurried, almost lazy as it stretched across the sprawling park that overlooked the ocean. The park was alive with people — families chasing frisbees, kids shrieking with laughter on the swings, couples strolling hand in hand. For once, there was no talk of assassins, no whispers of the Shadows, no urgent call from Batman.
Just a day to breathe.
The Team sat on the grass near a cluster of picnic tables, looking entirely out of place. Robin had insisted they ditch their uniforms and blend in — which, in theory, was a great idea. In practice, Damien sitting there in a fitted black Henley and dark jeans, posture straight as a blade, looked like a bodyguard watching over a group of rowdy kids.
"Okay," Wally said, already halfway through his second hot dog, "I know this was my idea, but I've gotta say, I nailed it. Sunshine, food, zero chance of death. This is living."
Robin smirked. "Pretty sure it was my idea."
"You don't eat hot dogs like this was your idea," Wally countered, mouth full.
Damien glanced at him, unimpressed. "You're going to choke if you keep inhaling them like that."
Wally pointed the hot dog at him. "And you're going to choke on your own perfection if you keep scowling at everyone."
M'gann giggled, brushing her red hair back as the breeze tugged at it. "He's not scowling. He's… just very serious."
"Serious," Artemis muttered under her breath, taking a bite of her sandwich. "That's one word for it."
Damien ignored the comment, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he might have smiled if no one was looking. Instead, he leaned back against the tree trunk, scanning the park with the same sharp eyes he'd use on a mission.
Superboy sat cross-legged nearby, quietly demolishing an entire bag of chips. He wasn't contributing to the conversation, but every so often he'd glance at M'gann when she wasn't looking.
Robin caught it and elbowed Damien. "See? Even Supey knows how to relax."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "Eating chips isn't exactly my definition of relaxation."
"Yeah?" Robin grinned. "What is your definition, then? Meditation? Calculating enemy weak points?"
There was a pause. Damien met his eyes, calm as ever. "Discipline isn't a switch you turn off. It's a state of being."
Wally groaned and flopped back onto the grass. "Oh my god, he talks like Batman."
That got a laugh from almost everyone — even Superboy smirked faintly.
Damien rolled his shoulders and finally looked away from the crowd. His eyes drifted upward, following a kite as it dipped and soared against the blue sky. He didn't admit it, but there was something… grounding about this place. No constant tension. No blade always at his throat. Just wind, and grass, and voices that weren't plotting.
Later, Robin dragged everyone into a frisbee game.
"Teams," he declared, tossing the disc lightly into the air and catching it again. "Me, Kid Flash, M'gann versus Damien, Artemis, and Superboy."
Artemis raised a brow. "Seriously? That's not even fair."
"Not fair for who?" Wally challenged.
"For you," Damien answered simply.
That lit the fire.
The game exploded onto the open field. Wally darted like a blur, nearly impossible to keep up with. Robin was tricky, pulling parkour flips and fake-outs. M'gann cheated a little, nudging the frisbee midair with her mind.
But Damien's team had raw force. Superboy could leap half the field in one bound, and Artemis had an archer's precision even when throwing a plastic disc. Damien, though — Damien was something else. He didn't have Wally's speed, but he read the field like it was combat. He anticipated, predicted, cut off angles before Wally even realized where he was headed.
At one point, Robin hurled the frisbee high, confident Wally would catch it. Damien sprinted, planted a foot on the picnic table, launched into the air — and snatched it with one hand, landing cleanly on the grass.
The kids playing nearby gasped. Even a dad clapped.
Wally skidded to a halt, jaw dropping. "You— you ninja'd my play!"
Damien flipped the frisbee casually in his hand. "Adapt faster."
Artemis laughed — actually laughed. "I'm keeping him on my team forever."
The game devolved into chaos after that. Wally started running interference just to trip Damien up. M'gann got distracted giving balloon animals to kids. Robin kept trying ridiculous trick shots. In the end, nobody really kept score.
They collapsed back on the grass, sweaty and breathless. Even Damien's hair was a little out of place, though he didn't seem to notice.
As the afternoon wore on, the Team drifted into quieter moments. M'gann bought ice cream for everyone, proudly declaring she'd "totally understood the Earth menu this time." Superboy sat with her on the bench, close enough their shoulders brushed.
Artemis sprawled on the grass beside Damien, unwrapping her cone. "So," she said between licks, "what's it like being you? Always perfect. Always serious. Never slipping up."
He glanced down at her, expression unreadable. "What makes you think I never slip up?"
She rolled her eyes. "Please. You probably schedule your mistakes ahead of time."
That earned her a faint chuckle. Just a breath, but real. "You'd be surprised," he said.
There was something in his tone — not defensive, not sharp, just honest enough that Artemis looked at him differently. For a second, she saw not the perfect fighter, not the mysterious new teammate, but a boy who'd never really been allowed to just… be.
She smirked to break the silence. "Well, you're not terrible at frisbee."
"I'll take that as high praise," he replied dryly.
The sun dipped lower, painting the ocean gold. Kids started going home, and the park quieted. The Team lingered, reluctant to leave their rare slice of normal.
Robin stretched out on the grass, arms behind his head. "We should do this more often. Like… once a week. Team bonding."
"Team napping, maybe," Wally said, already halfway asleep beside him.
M'gann smiled dreamily at the horizon. "It feels good. Like we're just… regular."
Superboy gave a small grunt of agreement.
Damien watched the waves crash against the rocks. For once, he didn't think about enemies in the shadows or the weight of his father's name. He thought about frisbees, and laughter, and the way Artemis' laughter still echoed in his ears.
Maybe this was what it meant to belong.
By the time they headed back toward the zeta-tube, the sky was streaked with pink and violet.
Damien walked slightly behind the group, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. But when Artemis slowed to fall into step beside him, he didn't move away.
She nudged his arm with her elbow. "Not bad for your first 'normal day,' huh?"
He thought about it, then gave the smallest of nods. "Not bad."
And for Damien, that was as close to saying perfect as it got.