The Night Before Returning
The mansion inside Damian's personal dimension was quiet in a way the outside world never was.
No sirens.
No alarms.
No whispers of gods, demons, governments, or conspiracies pressing in from every direction.
Just stillness.
Moonlight spilled through the tall windows of the bedroom, silver and soft, casting long shadows across the bed where Damian lay on his back. His breathing was slow, even—deep in the kind of sleep that only came when he felt safe.
Raven lay atop him.
Not fully sprawled, not restless—just there, her body aligned with his, her head resting over his heart. She could feel it beneath her cheek: steady, strong, unyielding. A rhythm that anchored her more effectively than any meditation technique ever had.
She wasn't asleep.
Her violet eyes were open, unfocused, staring at nothing while her thoughts wandered somewhere far more dangerous.
Tomorrow, they would leave.
Tomorrow, they would return to Titans Tower—back to schedules, missions, expectations, and the quiet distance she'd lived with for most of her life.
This week had been… different.
For the first time, she hadn't slept alone.
Not in a cold room.
Not surrounded by wards.
Not bracing herself against dreams she didn't want to have.
She slept beside someone.
With someone.
Someone whose presence didn't stir her powers. Someone whose heartbeat calmed the chaos instead of provoking it.
Damian.
She swallowed softly, fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt.
I don't want this to end.
The thought startled her—not because it existed, but because she didn't immediately try to suppress it.
Raven had spent her entire life mastering restraint. Containment. Distance. Every emotion carefully weighed, controlled, locked behind walls of discipline because she had to. Because letting go meant disaster.
But this week… she hadn't needed the walls.
She felt safe. Happy. Grounded.
And that terrified her.
Slowly, carefully, she shifted, lifting herself just enough to look down at him. His face was relaxed in sleep, sharp features softened in a way only exhaustion or peace could manage. There was no scowl, no tension in his jaw—just Damian, unguarded.
If I go back to sleeping alone…
The thought didn't finish.
She already knew the answer.
Before she could second-guess herself, before logic could pull her back into old habits, Raven inhaled and gently shook his shoulder.
"Damian," she said quietly. "Wake up."
He stirred immediately—years of training making sleep a light thing. His eyes opened, sharp for half a second, before focusing on her face.
"…Raven?" His voice was rough, sleepy. "Is something wrong?"
"We need to talk," she said. "Now. It's important."
For a brief moment, Damian froze.
A thousand possibilities flashed through his mind—every mistake, every forgotten detail, every way he might have failed without realizing it. Then, just as quickly, the tension eased.
"…Okay," he said, steadying himself. "I'm awake."
He reached to the bedside and turned on the lamp. Warm light filled the room, chasing away the moonlit shadows.
Raven hesitated.
For the first time in years, she wasn't afraid of losing control.
She was afraid of being vulnerable.
"When we go back tomorrow," she said finally, her voice quieter than usual, "to Titans Tower… I don't want to sleep alone."
Damian didn't interrupt. Didn't rush her. He stayed still beneath her, letting her speak.
"This week," she continued, fingers tightening slightly in his shirt, "sleeping next to you—waking up next to you—I felt…" She paused, searching for the right word. "…peaceful. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't fighting myself."
She met his eyes.
"I don't want to go back to an empty room. Not after this."
Silence stretched between them.
Raven's chest tightened.
I overstepped.
The thought hit hard, sharp with the fear she hated most—that she'd asked for too much. That she'd crossed a line Damian hadn't agreed to.
Her lips parted, ready to take it back.
Before she could, Damian spoke.
"If you're okay with it," he said calmly, "then I'm okay with it."
She blinked.
"We'll share a room," he continued, his tone certain but gentle. "When we go back. Together."
Relief hit her so suddenly she almost laughed.
"You idiot," she said, breathless. "You scared me."
A faint smile tugged at his lips—not wide, not flashy, but real.
"You didn't scare me," Damian replied. "You trusted me."
That was worse.
That was everything.
She leaned down before she could think better of it, her hands framing his face as she kissed him—not a hesitant kiss, not a testing one, but something deeper. Slower. A kiss meant for lovers who'd already chosen each other.
Damian's hands came up instinctively, resting at her waist, holding her close without pulling, without demanding.
When they finally parted, their foreheads rested together.
"We'll figure it out," he murmured. "Together."
Raven smiled—small, genuine, unguarded.
Hours later, long after the conversation drifted into quiet laughter and soft words meant for no one else, they lay tangled together beneath the covers.
Raven curled against his chest once more, fingers tracing idle patterns against his skin.
Damian's arms wrapped around her, protective without being possessive.
No missions.
No demons.
No expectations.
Just the steady rhythm of two hearts, finally at peace.
Tomorrow, they would return to the world.
Tonight, they slept—together.