"You do understand that I have a speech to present in less than ten minutes?"
"Damian, you know me better than that."
The Wayne wasn't sure he knew her at all, not by the way she grasp his hand or how she lead him down the hallway, the same way he did to her during patrols. It was different, he observed, letting someone take you where they pleased. Certainly he was use to being a sidekick, but he was never one to be bossed around, and now as Batman, it was a submissiveness he was unused to.
Perhaps he could get more used to it, he decided, glancing at her well-tailored dress. He could let her lead more often, if this was the view he was to get when he did. Was she so pleased with her view most nights?
Damian let out a grunt as she suddenly stopped, her hands on his suit jacket, and promptly pushed him against the wall. For a fraction of a second, he wondered if this woman was not his - perhaps she was like Miss Martian; Grayson had spoken of beings who could change their appearance and mannerisms to get the upper hand. But he knew he was not that foolish, for someone would have to have observed Iris in rather intimate settings for them to get her expressions perfect, as well as he knew them. And he knew this expression well, the way she tilted her head down, her crooked smile.
"Eight minutes, West."
"Mmmhm."
He couldn't contain his own grin, one he knew was specifically reserved for her. He tilted his head back as she got nearer, if only just to watch her expression for a few seconds longer, the way she parted her lips and breathed against his cheek in a way that always caused him to make the first move, to turn his head and press his lips against hers. If it weren't for the obscenely high shoes she wore, Damian was certain she would have to stand on her toes, or have him lean down; but she was at a perfect height, head just meeting his collarbone, enough so that she had to press against him and tilt her head back to get the kiss she wanted.
When he leaned back even further, the motion meant to be teasing, she caught his lip between her teeth, hands still on his chest. She tightened her grip, pulling him down ever so slightly. Perhaps he could convince her to wear heels this height more often.
She was good at playing games; she had learned it from him. But he was always better, catching her off guard as he skimmed a hand over the back of her dress. A squeeze and a gasp later and his lip had been released, her kisses becoming quicker, more feverish. She reached up and ran a hand through his hair, tilting his head down enough that she no longer had to press so harshly against him, use him as leverage.
"Damian."
The voice came from down the hall, a warning, and as quickly as their affair had started, it was over. She lingered on his lips, settling back on her feet completely, and did nothing more than grasp his hand as the Wayne heir's father appeared, turning the corner.
"You'll do fine," Irey said, her voice light, making it seem as if they had been talking the entire time. She squeezed his hand - maybe she was better at this game than he had thought, watching as a completely different smile wove onto her features, less amused, less sexy than before, but open and caring and a little fake. When she leaned forward and kissed his cheek once, he knew why he loved her so much.
As she lead him to his father, Damian realized his view wasn't a bad thing, either.