Competition | ❧Damian Wayne X Reader☙ |

Part 3

You shuffled in the silky bedsheets, you lay on your stomach, arms comfortably tucked under your pillow. The fabric you lay on cold and refreshing. Instants filled with bliss and comfort.

Your eyes begin to slowly peel open and you begin to see the yellow light illuminating the room. You sit up on the bed and begin hugging the pillow your head once lay on. You looked around in confusion, not immediately realizing that the room you were in wasn't yours.

It was the black Great Dane at the foot of the bed that jogged your memory. Titus' head lay on his arms, eyes shut, ears still pointed up attentively. As you stared at him, his eyes slowly opened and his head gradually raised upward. He tilted his head at you as if asking why you were gazing at him.

You reframed from hugging the pillow and place it in its original spot, got up from the bed, throwing the thick, but oh so comfortable, blankets off of you. You leave the bed as you were greeted by it: neat and made. You didn't want to leave a mess behind, it was shameful enough you fell asleep in a bed that wasn't yours. Panic was beginning to arise in the pit of your stomach. You put your shoes on, walked to the pair of French doors to Damian's balcony. You opened the curtains. Outside was dark, darker than when you had first looked through the doors at seven o'clock. Given it was the dead of winter in Gotham and that the sun set pretty early and all, you had definitely been sleeping for a while. 

You franticly made your way to Damian's sitting room to collect your backpack and phone. Titus pounced off the bed and followed you curiously. You had already packed up all your notebooks after finishing the project, so you just slung your backpack over your shoulders and grabbed your phone from the center table.

You looked at your phone for the time: 10:30 p.m.

Shit. You had thirty minutes to get home, take a bath, and pretend you'd been there since two o'clock before your parents both returned from work. Your mother had a known habit of returning home at times before her shift actually ended. 

You looked around the sitting room and Damian's room to see if you'd forgotten anything then speedily walked down the corridor, as you did so you finger-combed your hair, knowing for a fact it was a mess. You thought of just how much trouble you would be in if your parents found out that you practically snuck out, thoughts of their reaction and punishments filled your mind. What could they possibly take away?—probably your phone, it was always your phone, they didn't know what more to take away that seemed to give you joy. You weren't focused as you descended the second flight of stairs, too distracted by anxiety that somehow you managed to misplace a foot as you walked.

Your left hand placed on the railing of the staircase, glided down the wood fencing as your right leg over-stepped a stair and your left leg slipped down several steps. You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact as you stumbled forward however, the impact never came. Maybe it had and you were just numb? You'd fallen down stairs before and it always ended badly but never with anything broken.

You slowly open your tightly closed eyes. Hands were firmly placed on both sides of your waist, your legs stationed two-step above the grand hall's carpeted floor, leaving you in a slanted pose. It was a rather awkward position, you and the person who caught you were in such close proximity to eachother. You looked up at the person holding you: Damian. He changed out of his Gotham Academy uniform and was in a hoodie and sweats. You had to admit you were beyond embarrassed and you were quite sure Damian would further your mortification. You quickly propped yourself up, not wanting to make anymore unwanted eye contact with him for any longer, and waited for him to say something snarky to your failure to walk down stairs. 

He cleared his throat. “Are you alright (L/N)?” he asked, staring at you with a concerned expression. You didn't think Damian Wayne was emotionless, he sure acted like it, but despite that, you were still shocked he asked what he just did. “I'm fine, all thanks to you at least,” you say trying to avoid his prominent gaze. You walk down the two remaining steps. “I assume you'll be leaving now,” he said making you turn around. “Indeed, ” you answer simply. He's not going to bring up the fact that you nearly fell down stairs, or even the fact that you fell asleep in his bed?