Demonfire Oneshots

Gala

Mar'i sat with her head in her hands, trying to evidence that her shields were up. She hated these types of events, especially the dancing. If she had to dance with another handsy older man looking to make a deal with Bruce she might just be sick. She heard someone sit down opposite her and she sighed without looking up. "Listen, I'm sorry but I'm really not in the mood to dance-" She stopped herself when she looked up to see that it was just Damian. "Oh thank god it's you." She sighed, leaning forwards until her fingertips brushed up against his hands. He lightly chuckled as she drew away, folding her hands in front of her.

"What seems to be the problem now Grayson?" He asked her as she groaned. "It's all the stupidly perverted businessmen that attend these things." She explained as his fond gaze instantly turned ice cold and steely. "Tell me who." He demanded. She rolled her eyes, both irked and touched at his concern. "Dami, you're not a girl, you don't know how many sick people there are out there. You just don't know what it's like. You'll never know." She sighed. She was way too tired to fight anymore.

Damian, angered by her comments, stood up on his chair, clearing his throat. "Excuse me!" He shouted. Everyone turned their attention to him almost instantly. "What are you doing!" Mar'i angrily whispered. He simply ignored her and continued. "No one is to lay a hand on this woman," He pointed at Mar'i who hid her face, extremely embarrassed. "Unless she deems it appropriate." He shouted before ominously adding, "Otherwise you'll have to deal with me."

He hopped down from the chair he was stood on and casually sat back down as the room slowly returned to the noise it was at before.

"Damian! I can't believe you did that!" Mar'i angrily hissed once the attention was off of them. "I thought it would make you happy." He murmured in a defeated tone as she fought to run her hands through, and consequently ruin her hair.

"Can I talk to you outside?" She asked, posing it as a question when in reality, it was an order. He politely nodded and got up, "As you wish." He escorted her to the doorway, opening it for her. She carefully stepped outside and glared at him once he shut the door. "What were you thinking!?" She yelled. He sulked, "I was defending your honour." He answered, resulting in an exasperated sigh. "X'hal, Damian. You're not my boyfriend, you don't get to do that." She reminded him as he frowned and hesitantly held his hand out. She raised an eyebrow and took it, no questions asked. She trusted him to do what was right and he knew when he was going too far.

He lead her a few steps away from the door and into the middle of a large slab of smooth stone that embellished the centre of the exquisite garden. He gently rested his hands on her torso, not too close to her hips. He raised a questioning eyebrow and she smiled with a nod, sliding both her arms around his neck and taking a step forwards so they were pressed right up against each other. Slowly he let his hands trail down until they were comfortably resting on her hips.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked in a gruff voice as she airily laughed, "Seeing as we're already here..." She trailed off as they began incredibly slowly stepping from side to side. He turned his head to face her, their lips barely a centimetre apart. "I'm going to be wildly inappropriate. Please take all the necessary precautions to stop me..." He muttered before slowly leaning in, giving her plenty of chances to stop him. She, however, didn't and allowed him to brush his lips to hers in a soft, tender kiss.

She felt her heart jump in her chest and desperately fought to keep her hair from becoming surrounded by flames. They danced there for hours, sharing long, slow kisses under the faint shimmer of the moonlight.

Mar'i smirked to herself between kisses. Maybe these galas weren't as bad as she remembered.