Damian Wayne Oneshots

Halloween Baking Dilemma with Damian Wayne! PT 3

In which, Damian doesn't know- but discovers the joys of the Pumpkin Spice experience. (Sorry this took so long I was at the hospital on Thursday.)

As usual, the air was crisp and cool, the kind of late October day that made Gotham's streets seem a bit softer, masked in a gentle layer of fallen leaves. It felt safer somehow, but that was an illusion.

Shoulders hunched against the chill, Damian strode quite slowly beside Connor, feeling slightly out of place. Everyone was so, smiley.....and he was straight up forced to be here.

He wished to be in bed for the 9th time this month. His comfort place.

"Look," Connor said, tossing a glance Damian's way. "It's just pumpkin spice. It's not a crime against humanity. It's human-kinds gift."

Damian rolled his eyes but couldn't hide a small scowl. "You act like it's some sort of life-altering event. It's just... coffee, dressed up in ridiculous flavors. Caramel, Pumpkin, and all that."

"Ridiculous?" Connor queried, mock offense. "You should try to relax a bit. Take a sip of pumpkin from time to time. We all need some type of indulgence now and then, don't we? Especially in fall when everything looks so good and perfect."

"Indulgence is overrated," Damian responded, refusing to admit how intrigued he was by the scents wafting from the café they approached. 

The warmth emanating from inside was enticing, but he masked it with a signature scowl. Mara once asked if his face was simply stuck like that, because if so he seemed less like the asshole is was.

Connor paused at the entrance, shooting him a sideways glance. "You know, you might surprise yourself. You surprise me everyday in the most concerning ways. Anyways, you can't judge something you've never tried."

"Fine,"" Damian said, his resolve softening a little. If nothing else, he was SLIGHTLY curious to see what all the fuss was about. 

"But if it's terrible, I'm blaming you entirely."

A smile made it's way across Connors face, lifting the corners just enough to make Damian feel his irritation slip away. Odd.

Inside, the café enveloped them with the sweet aroma of baked goods and warm drinks. The ambiance felt welcoming, unlike the dark alleys they often frequented.

To Damians protest to pay, Connor ordered them two pumpkin spice lattes and a couple of pumpkin scones. As they waited, he leaned against the counter, looking unhurried, perfectly at ease in this environment. 

Artisan Aroma, the only café to look so pretty. 

"In 1983 a women suffered 3rd degree burns from a cup of hot coffee. Did you know that?" Damian asked randomly, watching the steam rise from the cups as they were set in front of them.

Connor simply blinked at him. Damian blinked back.

"Uhm, no. I didn't?" 

Damian nodded, picking up the warm cup, the heat radiating against his fingers from the warm plastic cup. Cute ghosts decals on the sides. This was different. 

He brought the drink to his lips hesitantly, taking a sip. The rich, spiced flavor wrapped around his tongue, surprising him with its depth. (Yum)

"It's... not horrible," he conceded, gaze flicking to Connor, who was observing him with anticipation.

"See? Told you." Connor took a sip of his own, a satisfied nod confirming his approval. "Fall is all about these little comforts. Just look outside. Dazzling."

He motioned to the colorful leaves drifting past the café window. Damian watched, captivated by the shades of orange and gold against the grey Gotham backdrop. Perhaps Connor was right; perhaps it was an opportunity to appreciate something more.

Dazzling.

"How often do you come here?" Damian asked, curiosity adamant.

"When I need to think, or just enjoy something sweet." Connor replied casually. "It helps clear my head. I find it grounding I guess. I found this place on accident. Best mistake of my lif."

Damian thought for a moment; his life was filled with training, always focused on preparation—little room for indulgence or distractions. 24/7 stressed out.

But here, with Connor, it felt different; less like a chore and more like a moment to just rejuvinate.

"So, you enjoy pumpkin spice, then" he asked, glancing back at Connor.

"More than just pumpkin spice," Connor replied, meeting his gaze. "But it's these little things that remind you life can be simple, you know? It's comforting."

Damian tilted his head, considering. Their eyes held for a moment longer than usual. There was a kind of tension, he would brushed that off as subtle acknowledgment lingering in the air between them, as if they were beginning to see each other not just as allies but as friends.

Friends, surely they were good friends.

"You might be onto something," Damian murmured, taking another sip, allowing himself to savor the drink like a first sip this time. "It's nice to step away... even if only for a little while."

"Exactly," Connor said with a pleased smile. "And who knows? Next year, you might be the one asking me to come get pumpkin spice lattes."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Damian countered, but a smile crept onto his face, unbidden. 

The two settled into a comfortable rhythm, small talk. One topic Damian would like to discuss was significantly longer ago then he remembered.

Whenever he strained his memory long enough he could smell the sour scent of Lazarus.

As the sun dipped lower, casting a golden light over the park outside the café, Damian found he wasn't just warming his hands with the latte; for the first time, he was warming himself up.

Eased.

"Thanks for today, Connor," he said, a hint of sincerity threading through the usually stoic facade. No longer Hawke, but simply Connor.

To. His. Face.

"No problem," Connor replied, his eyes flickering with something almost shy. "Anytime you want to drink to autumn in a cup or anything else, just let me know. I'll be here."

As they finished their drinks and stepped outside, the leaves rustled beneath their feet, brown, red, yellow and dark orange shades.

This was Autumn. This felt like home. What else felt like home during the other seasons?

He'd find out someday.