Cats Eat Birds - Damian Wayne/OC

Cats Love Birds - cristen and damian.

Hi! I promised some mini one-shots to anyone who really enjoyed this book, but I thought making a whole new fic would be redundant. These won't be in any particular order, but I'll make sure to reference where they fit in the CEB timeline. Feel free to request!

This one is set in the middle of chapter 81 (into the sun), after Cristen and Damian have their conversation in the Panek farmhouse. Just a walk between the babies :)

SMALLVILLE, KANSAS; PANEK STRAWBERRY FARM | DAMIAN

Before he stepped with her toward the sun, he said, "I love you too. If you must know. Your words... mean things to me."

Cristen squeezed his hand. "Tell me about it, boy wonderful."

They walked, and held hands, and he did.

      AS ALWAYS, THE nickname made Damian feel like she'd grabbed him by the back of the shirt and lifted him out of the current. He inhaled on reflex, and the air was bittersweet and special in his lungs. When he realized it was his turn to speak, Damian was plunged under again.

He thought for a long time. Cristen blissfully let him, until they reached the end of the farmhouse's yard and started down one of the beaten dirt paths to nowhere. "Girls aren't nice to me," he decided to say.

Cristen laughed. Crying had exhausted her, so the sound was a little throttled. But still nice. "Really," she said, sounding clever, "Girls aren't nice to you. I will keep that in mind next time you're swarmed by models at a party."

Holding hands gave him better access to Cristen, so he moved his hand down to her wrist and tugged her forward until she nearly tripped. Cristen yelped, twisted, and moved so fast that dirt kicked up on the path. Damian's arm was pinned to his back in an instant. They wrestled, laughs choked by the chill air, until her mouth was pressed to his ear and Damian couldn't stop his grin.

"That's never even happened before! You know what I meant." He snorted.

"And you know that I'm not afraid to judo flip you if you try ta' tickle me!" Cristen shrieked with mirth.

Damian broke free, with or without Cristen's blessing, and whipped around to face her. She was in an awful mood. It'd been grating at him all day to see her this way. For now, her spirits seemed to be lifting, so Damian did the only thing he thought would lift them further and tossed Cristen bodily over his shoulder. She squealed, but Damian held fast until her kicking and giggling died to a simmer.

(There was mud on the knees of her dress from when she'd kneeled in front of her grandparent's graves—Damian tried not to think about it.)

"Put me down," she said, petulantly. Cristen didn't mean it. Either she liked being carried or the view of his heels and the ground was nice, because she didn't complain any further, relaxing into his warmth. "...But really. You seriously think that girls don't like you?"

"I said that they aren't nice to me. That is different." Damian pointed his nose in the air. "You are rarely kind to me, yet you're madly in love with me. Girls are paradoxical this way."

"No, no," a smile edged into Cristen's voice. He could tell she was pointing at him funny, even over his shoulder. "That's not the point you were gonna make. I asked you to talk about your feelings for me, and you said that most girls aren't nice to you—but I am, and that's why you like me. Don't turn it around on me, mister, I see right through you—"

Abruptly, Damian deposited Cristen back onto the trail. A flash of playful disappointment touched her face, then she avoided his eyes, puffed out her cheeks and brushed off her dress like he'd dirtied it. "Tell me I'm right. But also, tell me how on earth you've convinced yourself that most girls don't like you!"