Driver or Lover? || Damianya Fanfic || ✔️

bad with words

Maybe it's the sexual tension and desperation that has them out of their damn minds, but suddenly Damian finds himself in a situation where they're making out at red lights and kissing each other goodbye.

It's after school and they're in the backseat. Pops is probably wondering where Anya is, but she's always running here and about so nothing unusual. And Damian doesn't need a clear head to know that his parents can't care less about what he's doing.

"Sy-on Boy?" Anya breaks apart with a gasp, hands resting on his chest. He's got her cornered against the door, fingers fumbling to undo the buttons of her blouse.

He doesn't answer, a little preoccupied. He leans forward to press his lips against her again. Anya makes a tepid attempt to push him back, but doesn't resist his kiss. To his delight, she shivers when he brushes the back of her fingers against her bare skin.

"Wait, Damian... Damian," Anya shakes his shoulders, breaking contact. Damian's annoyed but he doesn't let it show. It's not attractive or elegant, and he wants Anya to think of him as only that.

He hums in response, beads of sweat on his forehead as he struggles to gain control over his shaky fingers.

"What...what are we?" Anya pushes his forehead back to look into his eyes. This gets Damian's attentionーwell, some of it, at least.

"What'd you mean?" he asks, but the question is half-hearted. He really wants Anya to bring this up later, preferably during lunch or something when they weren't making out, so they can get back to the current task at hand. He gulps, eyes lingering on the smooth curve of her neck trailing down, down, down...

"Like, what is our relationship? Y'know..." Anya sounds scared, but of what, Damian doesn't know.

"We're friends, obviously," Damian answers impatiently, his hand coming to the back of her head and urging her to continue kissing him.

Anya gently slaps his hand away from her shirt and pushes him back. "Friends? Just friends?" she demands incredulously, eyebrows furrowed prettily in hurt. "Like...like you and Ewen and Emile?"

What a silly question. Damian knows she's not the brightest, but this is low, even for her. "Of course not. Ewen and Emile are my friends. You're my friend too, but a different kind."

"So I'm still just a friend." Now she sounds pissed. On her, it's both attractive and elegant, but Damian's too busy trying to think of what he did wrong.

"No! Not just a friend, you're...you know what I mean." A cringe follows immediately.

Nice, Desmond. Way to fuck things up.

"Do I? I can't read your mind, Damian!" Anya snaps, shoving him away. Damian stumbles, hands catching him from falling on his back. He stares at her in surprise, but scoots back to give her space. "And even if I could," Anya continues, softer. "well, you can't even understand yourself, so how could I?"

Damian winces and frowns. That was mean. And unlike Anya, with her bubbly and childlike words. She sounds serious, and he kind of likes it-

No! Focus. She's serious, so take her seriously. Damian scolds himself, shaking his head as if it would shake away any intrusive thoughts.

"Because this is nice and all, but sometimes I feel like you aren't taking me seriously like I am to you," she says this all in a slur and then takes a deep breath of relief as if all the words were bottled up inside of her and finally broke out.

"Ohー" Damian swallows the rock in his throat and looks softly at her, "don't be like that."

"No, you don't be like that! Dismissing me and...and...you're just so confusing, Desmond, you know that? Sometimes you're sweet, but sometimes it's like I'm no more than a fuck-buddy," she rants, throwing her hands up in the air. He's horrible, because he made her feel that way but also because it's just not true. In fact, it's the opposite.