Waiting for the Other Demon

Redecorate

Demetria's P.O.V.:

"Six years," Damian mutters, plopping down on the bed, shirtless. He lays down, staring at the ceiling. "Can you believe that, Dee?"

"I can't believe you still don't know how to pick up after yourself," I sigh, picking up the top of his attire from the floor. "Last time I checked, nothing about this room has changed. So you should know where the hamper is." I take the shirt and place it in the hamper. After putting it in the hamper, I walk towards our closet, opening it, finding a few clothes from when Damian and I were younger. "Hey! I remember this!"

"Remember what?" Damian asks, turning his head at me.

I grab the shirt and exit out with it. I hold the shirt up with excitement. "Do you remember this?!"

"Tch. I wish I didn't."

"What's wrong with it?"

Damian glares at me and the black shirt that says, 'Apparently I have an attitude. Who fuckin' knew.' "I don't have an attitude."

"Everyone begs to differ, Dami," I reply, putting the shirt back in the closet.

"Dee."

"Hm?"

"Are we staying?"

I freeze in my tracks, staring at my brother. "Do you want to leave?"

He looks to the side. "Not really. But he's still out there. If we don't find him soon, he'll come searching for us. Or one of us."

"Then let's wait for him," I sigh, walking to the bed and sitting next to Damian's laying form. "I'm honestly tired of searching. And if we stay here, we have more reinforcements. More people to rely on with just a call away."

"I guess. Or do you want to stay because you miss Pennyworth's food?"

"That just so happens to be a bonus, oh dear brother of mine," I answer, patting his stomach.

As we're talking, a knock comes on our door. "Pardon the intrusion," Alfred says, opening the door.

"You intrusion is pardoned, Pennyworth," Damian says, pushing himself off of the bed. "How may we help you?"

"I was wondering what you two would like for dinner." With that, he pauses, staring hard at us. "One more question. Master Damian, Miss Demetria, will you two be staying in the same room? It was quite understandable when you two were younger; however, you are both 16—grown teenagers."

Damian and I stare at each other, thinking about the answer. Turning our head to Alfred, we shrug our shoulders.

"It's less work for us if we stick together," I point out.

"How so?" he asks.

"It's fewer rooms for you to clean, and I get to keep an eye on this imbecile," I answer, pocking Damian's cheek.

"Tch. I'm not an imbecile," Damian growls, swatting my hand away.

"You're right," I say, rubbing my hand to lessen the pain. "You're a nuisance."

Without warning, Damian throws a punch my way. I quickly duck under the punch returning one as a way of self-defense. Going back and forth, we find ourselves falling off the bed, tackling each other on the floor.

"So different rooms it is," Alfred says, sighing as he leaves the room.

We release each other, watching Alfred's figure disappear. I sit on top of Damian, pinning him to the ground, heavily breathing as I process Alfred's words.