Driver or Lover? || Damianya Fanfic || ✔️

cat got your tongue?

It's become their little thing. Anya would be late, or not, and he would stop by the bus station to pick her up. Sometimes the bus is there. Sometimes it's not. She would choose to ride with Damian every time though.

"Say, Sy-on Boy..." Anya asks with a glint in her eye that makes Damian wary. "You know that project in History? I'm having trouble. How can there be benefits to the war?"

Damian doesn't know what she wants, but this is an easy enough question. Of course, stupid Anya wouldn't know, but that's okay. He can explain things to her for the rest of his life. Anya doesn't know how much he enjoys seeing her slide up to him after class, shamelessly take a seat beside him without asking, and demand that he help him with her schoolwork.

"Well, for starters, the war was a terrible thing. But it was an example of human..."

And as he's speaking, a sly hand snakes onto his thigh, momentarily bringing him to an abrupt pause.

"Continue?" Anya asks innocently when he stiffens.

"Er, yes...um... the project wants you to highlight the...uh..." he stammers, unable to think clearly with her delicate fingers tracing swirls and patterns on his leg. "So, it's saying...um..."

"Yes? Dami?"

"Um..." His mind is blank, fist clenched dangerously tight around the steering wheel and knuckles white. His eyes are locked on the car in front of them; he can't turn his head, afraid of what expression he might see on Anya's pretty little face.

"You know, Sy-on Boy..." she starts, and he can see a glimpse of a smirk in the rearview mirror. "You're really smart. It's charming. Has anyone told you that before?"

It's an easygoing compliment, delivered smoothly without a second thought. But it's enough to drive Damian absolutely nuts.

He glances at his watch impatiently. They're a minute away from school. A minute away from being free of this torture.

"Mama told me to find a kind, charming person when I grow up. Someone who is clever and reliable. Papa says you're a nice, smart lad. What do ya think they're trying to tell me?"

"I-I don't know, Anya. It seems pretty normal for, uh, parents to want their children to marry good people."

"Hm. I sure hope I can find a strong and smart man just like you." Despite the obvious implications, Anya says it in such a manner that one might think of it as friendly banter.

"G-Good luck with that, Anya."

He is relieved when he hears no response, but it's short-lived. 

"Dami, you're acting really strange. Are you sick?" Anya furrows her brows and purses her glossy lips in mock concern.

Before Damian can say no, Anya reaches up and gently presses the back of her hand to his neck. She smells like peach hand cream.

"No, I think I'm fine, Anya," he says louder than intended. Damian prays Anya doesn't notice him sweating bullets. Seriously, when did he get so sensitive? All she did was tease him, innocent enough. He doesn't think she knows how crazy a single touch of hers makes him.

"You feel really hot," Anya murmurs, emphasizing the word hot.

"Y-Yeah?" he's still as rock when she moves her hand to his forehead.

"Mm-hm." Her hum of agreement is accompanied by a small giggle, and it's a sweet melody that drives him insane. 

She's gotten quite a lot closer, her seatbelt doing little to restrain her. If it wasn't for the center console separating them, Damian is sure that Anya would be all over him. The thought alone makes him blush, imagining the comforting heat of her small body and hands trailing over forbidden places. 

He makes a mental note to move her to the backseat next time. She'll still have that smart mouth but at least he'll be safer.

A whiff of her perfume makes it into his nose, a light and airy floral scent. The smell has stained his car, pleasant and sweet but all it does is remind him of Anya when he's driving back to his mansion after dropping her off at home. It's painful and unwanted but that doesn't stop him from ordering the exact same perfume to spray his room.

Anya grins, wide and manically, but he likes this smile of hers better than the flirty ones that she showed so often in school and in front of others. This one is saved for him (and Becky, he begrudgingly thought, but she was irrelevant).

Anya withdraws her hand, apparently deciding to go easy on Damian. 

"Sy-on Boy, what's your type?"

"Of what?"

"Of romantic partners, duh! Like girls, or boys." She rolls her eyes, not the least bit embarrassed by her question.

"O-Oh, um... I guess I want someone kind, hardworking, cute, funny, and someone who understands me." He shrugs; wasn't this what everybody wanted?

"Then..." Anya continues, hand reaching up to play with her curls, "do you like girls with pink hair?"

He freezes in his tracks, because what the fuck does she mean by that? Is she trying to ask him out? Or confess something? Or maybe, she's trying to get him to confess something? He had planned on doing that on his yacht next to a candlelit dinner with roses while the full moon shined in the sky. 

He had the whole thing planned out; he was going to order her a necklace engraved with their names (with the biggest diamond of course, she deserved only the best), a three day trip to the private island his friend gifted him two years ago that he never really cared for, a stunning designer dress (he wanted it to be white, but that seemed too bold so he settled for a beautiful mint green that would bring out her eyes).

If Anya thought he was going to spoil it all and do it now in his shabby Rolls-Royce, she could think again.

Damian quickly glances at Anya through the corner of his eye and is surprised to see her emerald eyes wide and lips slightly parted, shoulders raised as if she was taking a breath. What is she doing? It's making his heart thump with a myriad of feelings: some recognizable, some indescribable, all of them treacherous.

But she recovers soon and her signature smirk is playing on her lips again. "What's wrong, Damian? Cat got your tongue?"

Fucking Anya.

A/N: Maybe I'm exaggerating how rich Damian is.

I don't really know how I feel about this chapter but I wrote it because I'm sick and bored, and I need a break from writing BSB.