damirae week 2021
wednesday, may 5th - holidays & vacation
title: Love is in the Air
summary: When his brother decides to mess with him as a Holiday prank, Damian ends up having to travel in coach like the rest of the mortals. Eventually, though, he learns that turbulence can strike even before the plane takes off.
"What do you mean by coach class?"
His brows are furrowed when he asks her that, a puzzled expression taking over his face. Expectant, green eyes are on the flight attendant in front of him, as he waits for her to provide him a little more information on the matter. She's growing anxious the longer he stares at her, a nervous tic making her left eye tremble whenever she tries to maintain eye-contact. Apparently, she knows who he is— of course she does— therefore; he believes it's safe to presume she understands why he's so confused.
"I'm really sorry, Mr. Wayne, but that's what your ticket says." She explains, her voice laced with nervousness as she shows him the printed paper with his name written on. Damian is not blind— far from that, actually. He can see all the information written on that paper, but no matter how much he tries, he still can't comprehend the 'coach' part. He has been traveling by plane for as long as he can remember, and never once has he deliberately chosen a seat in coach— in fact, never once has he chosen a seat at all, since he has a secretary of his own. A very competent and well-paid one, for the matter.
Such a primal mistake like this has never happened in all the years they've been working together. Something must have happened, he knows.
"I believe there must have been some mistake." He states calmly, his demeanor unaltered. "Could you please check it again? The people at my company would never make such a trivial mistake."
"Of course, I understand completely. I'll try checking it on the system to see if I can find anything."
Her fingers move rapidly across the keyboard, and he studies her face, looking for a hint of what's actually happening. She's still nervous, he can tell, and if anything, that's not a good sign. It means she's not finding the problem in the system, and if she's not finding it, it means the said problem doesn't exist. And if it doesn't exist— well— something must have happened at Wayne tech.
How odd, he ponders.
"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Wayne, but there really has been no mistake. Your ticket was ordered last Wednesday night, and it is as I've told you, see?" She turns the monitor so he can see, probably so he won't hold it against her or anything. "You know, it's quite common for some of our clients to make this kind of mistake. Perhaps you forgot to select the first class? "
"Highly unlikely. My secretary always double-checks everything."
"Well, both the coach class and the seat were chosen by your secretary last Wednesday night. Are you sure nothing unusual happened when he ordered the ticket for you?"
"I'm positive. It was a normal Wednesday and— wait." He suddenly stops. His emerald eyes blink once, twice and a third time, a blank expression taking over his handsome face. "Did you just say he?"
Once he allows her words to sink in, Damian questions the integrity of his ears. Perhaps, after all of those years fighting crime and handling explosives, they might not be working as perfectly as they are supposed to.
He must have heard it wrong because, last time he checked, Mrs. Miller was not a man. She's a conservative woman who's around her 60s, and even if that doesn't mean a thing anymore, she has never once told him anything about switching genders. If anything, she's always the one lecturing Jason about finding a kind woman such as herself.
Still, a stranger such as the woman standing in front of him could never know such personal things about Mrs. Miller's life. Things are not adding up. And for he is his father's son, he wants to know why.
"Oh, yes. I presume the name Richard belongs to a man, no? It's the name of the account who's booked you this flight."
"Richard?!" He questions, and it only takes him a second to put all the pieces of that silly puzzle together.
Grayson, you bastard.
Now it all makes perfect sense. Of course he had to be behind this childish act. Who else would have enough free time to waste before the Holidays just to prank a busy, young man such as himself? His older brother might be respected by many of their super friends, but more than anyone, Damian knows he is but a child filled with hormones. He probably thought it would be funny to make his little brother travel for hours in coach as a commoner, where he would have to sit next to a stranger.
That worthless manwhore.
However, he won't let his predecessor have the last laugh. Grayson did this solely to piss him off and throw him out of his comfort zone, therefore, the best revenge should be handling the situation without creating a fuss. Damian is going to accept the conditions without putting up a fight, and his brother's victory will have a bitter taste.
Yes, that's how a real man gets his personal revenge. He will endure a six-hours flight home in coach class like a pro, and he will show the first Robin not to mess with the newest generation.
A proud smirk, then, takes over his lips. That certainly should teach him a lesson—well, that and the explosives Damian plans to hide in his brother's bedroom, of course.
"Mister Wayne, I'm terribly sorry about all this. I—"
"No need to be sorry. In fact, I should be the one apologizing for all of these questions now that I know what happened." He starts, placing his hand on his chest as an apologetical gesture. "You see, Richard is my older brother. He's not as smart as the rest of the family, so it's highly likely that he's made this mistake."
"Oh, I understand. I guess every family has one of those, right?"
"You have no idea. Now, Karen." He says, finally paying attention to the name written on her uniform. "I'm incredibly sorry for wasting your time. Without further ado, I will head to my seat."
"Mister Wayne, you're very kind, indeed." She starts, a blush tinging her cheeks. With a staple, she makes small holes on his ticket before handling it back to him. "I hope you have a safe flight to Gotham."
"Yeah, me too."
His voice doesn't sound as irritated as he feels, and that alone is a big victory. Without wasting more of his precious time, Damian walks towards the jet bridge so he can finally board the plane. A couple walks behind him, chuckling as they talk about how much fun it will be to go back home for Christmas.
Going home for the Holidays, huh?
An entire week at the Wayne Manor with his brothers and his father, sharing meals together and trying not to murder each other during their morning exercises. Though Gotham could not get any safer since the whole bat-family will be together, it is also the one time of the year when his murderous instincts are at their peak.
A tired sigh escapes his lips. That's a problem for another time, he thinks.
Once inside the plane, his eyes search for the signs that will take him to his seat. For the first time in his life, he turns right instead of left— coach instead of first class— and suddenly, a small corridor is in front of him. For a moment, he feels like a cow heading for the slaughterhouse, as many other people are forming a line in front of him.
It's hard to breathe and even harder to walk with all of those people trying to put their bags inside the upper compartments. He checks his ticket again. D21. According to the numeration pattern, he's almost there, but he's still not moving fast enough. All the simultaneous talk is driving him insane, and now he understands why some people choose to dope themselves as soon as they get inside the plane.
He doesn't have any sleeping pills with him, but maybe if he punches himself with enough strength…
No. He can make it. Things will get better once he sits down and they take off. It can't possibly get any worse than it already is, right?
Right?
A curse is muffled under his breath, and finally, he reaches his seat. For he knows how to travel light, Damian is quick to place his bag where it belongs and now he can establish himself. It's a window seat, he notices, which means that soon there will be another person next to him, too close for his own liking. He knows there's no use in picturing what kind of person it will be, but he can certainly hope it's a nice one who knows how to respect his personal space.
If he or she doesn't have vocal chords, Damian definitely won't complain.
He closes his eyes for a moment, then, allowing himself to settle down and get used to his surroundings. It's chaotic, he thinks, and he knows chaotic. Children are crying, some people are on the phone and others are just breathing too loud. He knows he's whining like a brat, but it's stronger than him. It's annoying, and he swears if that lady keeps on talking about her 3 cats, he's going to—
His inner monologue stops, his eyes widening for a moment. At last, he hears the one thing he hates more than Joker's maniacal laughter. That unbearable sound that makes his head throb and makes his lips turn into a deep frown.
"Is that Damian Wayne?"
Teenage girls. And they know him.
Perhaps it's the annoying giggle or even the way they keep on getting bolder every time they meet him, but Damian can't stand them. They're just too obnoxious— a real pain. He honestly doesn't know why on earth they tend to approach him whenever they have the chance, especially since he's sure he has never once paid them any attention. In fact, chances are he has even been rude to them on more than one occasion.
Trying to understand a teenager's mind is beyond his capacity. Ignoring them, though doesn't prevent them from returning, is the easiest way out, and when they come— because they will come— that's exactly what he's going to do.
"Excuse me, Damian Wayne." One of them says, her voice laced with excitement. Two more stand next to her, but he can't really tell them apart. "It's you, isn't it? "
Jesus, can someone please knock him out already?
He crosses his arms at her words, his brows now knitted in annoyance. He's pretty sure there's nothing welcoming in his expression, but that won't stop them from continuing. It's not like they actually care about his feelings or anything.
"Oh, my god! It really is you!" She claps her hands, biting her lower lip. "Can I get a selfie? Can I?"
"God, Mary. Can you be any more inconvenient?" The one on her left asks, pushing her friend away so she can take a step closer. "Forgive my friend. She can't read the atmosphere like I can. If you want, I can send her away and keep you some company during the flight."
"Ugh, get out of my way, both of you!" The third one pushes through, using her elbows to force her way forward. "Hi, I love you and I really mean it, Damian! I love you so much that, if you want, we can meet at the bathroom cabinet and I'll show you."
His eyes widen in horror at such proposal, and he's almost sure this girl isn't old enough to be saying such things. From the corner of his eyes, he watches as a bunch of people lift their phones to point at him, all of them waiting to hear his final answer so the dirty press can judge him.
Grayson is going to pay dearly for this.
This girl is insufferable. All of them are.
They're causing all of that commotion, preventing people from walking down the small corridor and embarrassing him in front of all of those eyes. They can't possibly think it's okay to do or say those things so openly like to a man they know nothing about. Though the initial plan might have been for him to at least talk to them, Damian can't bear any more hatred inside of him than at this very moment, and if looks could kill, those three wouldn't be breathing anymore.
His hands turn into fists and he closes his heavy eyes so he can stop himself from committing a murder. Justice, not vengeance. His father's words echo inside his head, and he's having a really hard time trying not to think only about the second part. He really just wants to go home right now. And thankfully, he's not the only one.
"Hum, excuse me…"
His ears detect a fresh voice, calmer and more mature. Instinctively, he opens his eyes to look at this new stranger, and he's impressed by what he sees. She's beautiful, he notices. Dark hair, violet eyes and ivory skin, all together to form an ethereal beauty like he has never seen before. Damian can't help but keep looking at her, curious to know what she's going to say on this matter.
"Hi!" She continues, her thin lips turning upwards in a smile. "I know you're all busy trying to seduce this man with your oozing pheromones and irrefutable proposals, but in case you haven't noticed, there are people trying to get to their seats here."
"So what?" One of them says, a hand on her hips and a lot of attitude in her high-pitched voice. She's trying to be intimidating, but it's clearly not working. "Can't you see who he is, you emo? He is—"
"I couldn't care less about who he is." The raven-haired girl cuts in, clearly not in the mood for that drama. "He could be Superman or even the president himself, for all I care. My problem is with you three airheads who are interrupting the flow. There are people trying to walk here and the airplane hallway is not a place to flirt with strangers who won't even remember your face once we take off."
"What!? Of course he will remember!" She glares. "We are—"
"Annoying the hell out of him? That you are. I mean, just look at his face! He looks like shit!" She points at him, violet eyes now meeting emerald ones. Her though expression suddenly melts into a softer one, her head tilting a bit to the right. "No offense, though."
"None taken." He answers, an amused smirk now taking over his face. She nods at him before returning her burning eyes to those three girls.
"Like the rest of us, this man just wants this damn plane to get him where he needs to be so he can move on with his life and get drunk during the holidays. We don't want to be here. So, without further ado, could please you get the fuck out of the way before I lose my temper? "
He doesn't know what happens next or even how a small girl such as herself could be so intimidating, but at her words, he notices his three fangirls flinching. They're avoiding eye-contact, and for the first time, one of them seems to grow aware of the crowd staring at them. The one standing in the middle starts to tremble, and though they're looking at him as if searching for some sort of support, Damian can't bring himself to offer them anything slightly remote to that.
In fact, if he has to pick sides, he wouldn't need to think twice before taking the brunette's.
"I-I… I—"
"You what?" She asks, arching an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. Her pose holds no hesitation as she stands her ground. "Do you need me to spell it out for you? "
With a 'tch', the three girls finally walk away, returning to their respective seats with their heads hanging low, and he can't help but feel incredibly satisfied by that. There's a victorious smirk on her face, and it's safe for him to assume she's also feeling pretty good about what she just did.
What an interesting woman, he thinks. All that sass and eloquence are certainly eliciting his curiosity, and though he doesn't want to admit it, he can't help but feel slightly turned on by this stranger.
Interesting, indeed.
While Damian is still trapped in his thoughts, a round of applause takes over the airplane, as people congratulate the raven-haired girl. They pat her shoulders, thank her for getting rid of those girls, and she even laughs once the old lady behind her tells her they don't make girls like her anymore. For a quick moment, she becomes the hero they didn't know they needed, and for sure, this is going to be a pleasant story to tell during Christmas dinner.
They will portray her as the girl who saved their flight.
Damian, however, will portray her as the one who told his fangirls to fuck off.
He really needs to thank her for that. Fortunately, he will have over six hours to do that.
Before the Wayne heir can bring himself to form the words in his head, the girl is placing her small bag in the compartment above their heads. As she lifts her arms, her shirt lifts, momentarily exposing her belly. Even if it was just for a brief second, she catches him staring, and once their eyes meet, he looks away, his cheeks growing slightly warmer.
He sees as she slowly shakes her head before sitting next to him, and though he was not expecting a girl such as her, he's currently thanking the superior forces for the partner destiny has chosen to be his seat-mate. She's beautiful, her voice is not annoying, and the best part is that she doesn't seem to give a crap about who he is.
Maybe he's finally going mad because of— well— everything, but right now, Damian trulls believes that he might even fall in love with this girl.
A sly smirk takes over his lips, and he can't help but stare at her for a little too long. She watches as he does so, and as expected, she doesn't feel embarrassed or inhibited at all. Instead, she stares back, eyes squinting a bit in sheer mockery. A questioning look spreads across her face, and he decides that he should be the one saying something. Anything, really.
"You're mean." He states, as if that's the biggest truth in the world. She tilts her head, but his words don't seem to affect her.
"So what?" She asks, not really caring about his answer as she fastens her seatbelt. "If you didn't like the way I talked to your fan girls, you can go and apologize to them, be their hero or whatever. Though, if you're really gonna go meet them at the bathroom cabinet, I suggest we switch seats so we don't bump knees every time you have to go."
She's a spirituous one, he notices. And if he's not careful, he might be the next victim of her graciously rude words. "Nah, don't worry about it. As you've pointed out before, I don't even remember their faces anymore. Your knees can rest assured."
"Thanks, I guess?" She lifts her brows, not bothering to spare him another glance as she adjusts her dark clothes. There's a book resting over her lap— Christmas Carol, for what he can see— and she uses her small fingers to tug a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Yeah…" He shakes his head, forcing himself to focus. "By the way, I don't think I've introduced myself. I am Damian— "
"Save it. I know who you are, Wayne. I might not be the most updated person in this world, but even Eskimos know your family. Don't worry, though. I promise I'm not a disguised reporter or an annoying fangirl."
"Not with that attitude, you're not. Your clear lack of interest in my personal life can only be matched by only one other person I know."
"Oh, really?" She asks, her eyes now turning to face him. Now that they're so close to each other, he can see how bright they really are, and for a moment, he thinks she might even have hypnotic powers because he just can't look away. There's a curious tone lingering over her words, and he wants to believe she's actually paying attention to him this time. "And who would that be, if I may ask?"
"My father." He answers bluntly, and he notices as she she chokes back a giggle. There's a soft smile decorating her lips now, and the surrounding atmosphere feels a lot lighter.
"Rachel Roth." She sticks out her hand to him, and without hesitation, he shakes it carefully. Her hand is soft against his calloused one, and he notices the way she brushes her thumb over his skin. It's a delicate and pure gesture, so fleeting that makes him wanting more as soon as he releases her from his grip.
"Well, Rachel…" Her name rolls out of his tongue as he tests the sound of it. It has a nice ring to it, he notices. "I think I need to thank you for saving me from a huge headache back then. Seriously, I owe you one."
"Nah, don't worry about it. I didn't really do it for you, so you don't need to thank me or anything. I just wanted them to get out of my seat, that's all."
"Selfish or not, you still got rid of them, so… thanks. "
"Well, if that's the case, you're welcome, Damian." Rachel nods at him, the same smile still decorating her face. She picks up her book, then, flipping through the pages so she can pick up from where she had left. The way she says his name— so simple and unpretentious— makes his lips curl upwards, and all the bad feelings from before disappear.
This girl— Rachel— she's showing what a life away from the streets and the business meetings must feel like. The conversation flows easily and effortlessly, to the point where it's hard to believe they've met not even 30 minutes ago. It feels natural in a way very few things in his life do, and though he knows it's not meant to last, at least he will cherish this moment before it turns into a fading memory in the depths of his mind.
Moments of pure joy shall fade into oblivion, that's one of the most important rules of his life.
Thankfully, the internet is forever.
An unexpected buzz inside his pants breaks his train of thought. At first, he decides to ignore it, but after the third time, he gives up on the idea. Silently, he scoffs in annoyance, fishing his phone from his pocket. He presses the side button, then, the screen lighting up to reveal a couple of notifications. His eyes, though, land on three particular messages from his family's group chat:
Grayson: I ship it
Drake : what happened, Damian? Are you okay?
Todd : hot and feisty. The best kind of girl, little bro
His brows furrow in confusion at his brothers' messages. For what he can conclude, they're talking about a girl he knows and has interacted with, but that's pretty much it. The only female human in his mind right now is Rachel, and there's no way for them to be talking about her. He's not being followed or bugged, for all he knows— and he knows.
Something strange is happening, and he wants to know what. The youngest Wayne, then, texts them a single '?' and almost immediately, Dick sends him a link to an Instagram page. He's growing more confused with every additional information, but figures it must be just another one of Grayson's stupid pranks.
He sighs at the thought. Isn't he a bit too old for that?
An annoyed pout takes over his lips as a clear sign that he just wants to get this stupid thing over with. Once he taps on the link, though, it takes less than a second for his eyes to widen and his bored expression change into a surprised one. The video playing is muted, but he doesn't need any volume or subtitles to know what the raven-haired girl in it is saying.
Oh… That angle does make her look nice.
He blinks twice as he allows the whole thing to sink in. Apparently, all of that show earlier was recorded by some cameras and posted all over the internet. There are many posts about it, with all possible captions and comments about them, and he has to admit some are quite creative. Apparently, they're the new internet hits, not that Damian really cares about it. He's used to all the lies and overreacted dramas, but if he were to be honest, this one is making him quite intrigued.
Not by the gossip itself, no. That would never happen.
This time, he's intrigued by how the girl next to him will react as soon as she finds out.
From the corner of his eyes, he watches as she's calmly reading her book, waiting for the plane to take flight. She's immersed in Charles Dickens' words, and it's like the entire world around her can't interrupt her. It's just her and the book, and for she hasn't touched her phone since her arrival, he's quite sure she doesn't know what's happening in the digital world.
At least, not yet.
He's definitely going to tell her.
"Uh… Rachel? "
"Yes, Damian?" She answers, her eyes not bothering to leave the pages of the book.
"Just a quick question… How do you feel about being the center of attentions? "
"I hate it. Why?"
"Well, you might have to reconsider this…" His voice falters and he slowly massages the back of his head.
"Oh, and why would I do that?" She looks at him, at last, her brows now arched. Her expression is blank, and he suddenly wants to laugh because she has no idea of what's coming.
"Here, check this out. "
He gives her his phone, a smirk decorating his face. Slowly, he watches the video playing once again on the small screen, all life slowly fading from her pretty face. Her eyes widen, her lips part, and she places her fingers on her left temple. Her cheeks are growing redder than a tomato, and once the video ends, she is completely dumbfounded.
"Wha-what the hell!?" A couple of seconds pass until she says something, her voice a little too loud, and her eyes filled with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "What's the meaning of this, Damian!?"
"Well, I think people enjoyed your bossy words from many different angels"" He starts, taking his phone back and scrolling through his time line. His voice sounds too excited for her liking, and it's easy to tell he's trying to hold back a laughter. "You went viral, Rachel. "
"No no no no." She repeats, slowly shaking her head in denial and taking her own phone in hands. With trembling fingers, she opens her Instagram page and a rush of follows and mentions makes her eyes widen even more. "I can't believe this is happening. "
"Oh, come on, it's not that bad." Damian tries to calm her down, but the joy in his voice takes all of his credit away.
"Not that bad?!" Her eyes are glaring at him now, cheeks puffed in pure anger. "I got remixed, Damian!"
A sly smile takes over his lips, and he's]really trying not to laugh in front of her. "And it's a good remix. Besides, for what I can see, most people are on our side."
"Our side? I was just trying to reach my seat. There's no our side, Damian."
"Well, apparently, there is. Look." He leans towards her, absentmindedly, until he's close enough to feel her embarrassment exhaling from her. Their knees are brushing, but neither of them seems to be aware of that closeness right now. He shows her his phone one more time, a couple of comments now displayed. "Some people are even shipping us already. #Damirae."
A defeated whimper escapes her lungs, and finally, she locks her phone-screen. Apparently, Rachel can't look at all that anymore, and decides to just sink into the seat. Her hands are covering her face, and her voice is muffled when the next words come out. "Ugh, this is a nightmare."
"Try looking at the bright side. This video can make you famous. I'm sure the media already loves your sarcasm. "
"If you haven't noticed, Wayne, I'm a goth." She spreads her hands across her face so she can look at him through the space between her fingers, and he can't help but find that utterly adorable. "I don't do bright side. "
"God, you're so dramatic." He also locks his phone, placing it back inside his pockets. His torso turns around so he can face her properly, that same smirk still planted on his lips. "It's just a video, relax. Most people will soon forget about it."
"Some people? And what about the others?" Her voice is lower now, shier, as if she's really seeking some sort of comfort— not that he's even trying to offer her any.
"Oh, we will remember this forever, don't worry." A dry chuckle escapes his lips, and he notices the way her expression melts in response, tension and nervousness now gone.
Damian is having the time of his life, not only because the video was, indeed, funny; but also because he's getting to see another side of this interesting girl who's sitting next to him. Even if she really is bothered by the whole thing right now, eventually, he trusts that she will get over it and realize that no one gives a damn about stuff like that.
It's just a temporary thing. A funny story for the future.
Rachel will survive it. And he—well…
He's just found himself an excuse to follow her on Instagram.
"You jerk." She chuckles, finally placing her hands on her lap and adjusting her posture. She takes a deep breath, then, as if she's trying to recompose herself, but he notices the way she shrinks a little once she realizes the couple next to them are staring. Her body turns towards his, a sign that she feels somehow safe with him.
And for that, he's extremely glad.
"That's a new thing." Damian states, mockery no longer lacing his voice.
"What is?" The girl questions.
"You're laughing."
"So what?"
"It's nothing, really. It's just… cute."
Her cheeks grow red once more and she bites her lips. For a fraction of a second, she turns away from him, but soon, her amethyst eyes are once more looking into his emeralds ones. "Shut up, will you? You'll need more than that if you want your Damirae fantasy to come true."
"Oh, so are you saying I have a chance, Rachel?" He teases, knowing very well she didn't mean it like that. Still, he figures he can't waste this opportunity. "Are you sure you're not a disguised fangirl? "
"You wish, Wayne." She smirks, offering him a side glance as she picks up her book again. "And I never said that."
"You didn't say the other way around, either."
"Good point." She nods, acknowledging his words instead of trying to deny them. "I guess you have the entire flight to make sure I keep it that way…"
There's a flirty tone in her voice, and instantly, the Wayne heir is up for the challenge. Their eyes meet again, and for a moment, he thinks she's checking him out. They smile at each other, exchanging that you-know-what look, and right now, he doesn't think this flight will be long enough.
He wants to know more about her. He wants to play this push-and-pull game, and more than anything, he wants her phone number. And Damian Wayne win't stop until he gets what he wants.
At last, the pilot makes his announcements, and for once, they break eye contact when the flight attendant passes by their seats, closing the compartment above their heads. Seat-belts are fastened, tables are up, and the crew is ready. They're ready to take off.
fin.
a/n: Well, there are not enough words to describe how much trouble I had with these prompts. I gave up on so many ideas and got so mad at everything that I'm impressed I even managed to write something in the end. Still, I'm glad to have written this one. I had a lot of fun with the dialogues and with every smirk I wrote! Hope you've enjoyed it, and please, tell me what you think!