On a normal person's face, one would expect an expression of disgust (a cringe, for example) upon takin a sip of coffee that had gone cold half-an-hour before.

Having said that, Tim Drake was no normal person.

Raven grimaced as he gulped down a mug of cold "coffee": quotation marks are used here for humorous purposes seeing as Timothy had substituted water with Red Bull energy drink. The devil's daughter glanced heavenwards and muttered, "Jesus Christ help me..."

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Tim added the empty mug to a collection of used, unwashed mugs sitting on the floor by the Batcomputer.

Tim leant on his training staff and commented, "You're a surprisingly good opponent you know- not that I thought you'd be bad!- just that you've got magic powers so presumably you would use them more than martial arts therefore you would be better at magic than fighting but you're actually quite good at both- not that I'm much of a judge for magical proficiency because I'm obviously not a magician but-"

"Thank you!" Raven said, before he passed out from oxygen deprivation." You're a good training partner...but you drink too much coffee. That's your third cup; it's not twelve yet."

Tim looked at the main Batcomputer screen. Indeed, in the corner, the time read 11:48.

"Heh...would you look at that!" Tim scratched his head. "I've been productive enough this morning to discount leaving my room for the next week- no! Nine days! Sweet solitude." He left the wooden staff resting against the wall then saluted Raven goodbye.

The half-demoness glanced at the mugs on the floor, gagged, then composed herself. She dug her hands in to the pockets of the comfy leggings Stephanie had lent her and looked around the Batcave. How very empty it was- and how very echoey.

Raven sighed and thought about what to do next: she'd eaten breakfast with Damian, the Mr Pennyworths (feline and butler) and Titus; mediated; studied from one of Zatanna's books; and sparred with Tim. Mr Wayne hadn't returned to Wayne Manor after disappearing the night before, but Alfred had assured Damian he was alright (at the breakfast table). Perhaps she would ask the butler again before searching for the highly esteemed Wayne Manor Library.

Scratch that, she could track Damian down and ask him where it was.

Five minutes later, Raven was no closer to finding Damian than turning in to a pie. Speaking of pie, the witch's stomach rumbled. There had been a bowl of Grammy Smith apples on the kitchen island in the morning- they would almost certainly still be there.

Raven tracked down the crunchy green treasure, ran one under the tap, then took a large bite. Apples held a special place in Raven's heart. When there was only a core left, the witch heard the gentle padding of feet on the floorboards. She whistled a sharp, short note, and the footfalls quickened.

"Hello Titus," she greeted, crouching down to pet the dog, whose nose was roughly level with her forehead, "I wonder if you could help me find Damian. "

Titus tilted his head.

"Do you know where he is?"

Titus dipped his head and led her out of the kitchen. He stopped at an ajar door, that was more square than rectangle, and barked. From Alfred's tour of the Manor, Raven knew that it led to the back of the house, the vast acres of Wayne property.

She huffed, "So he's gone for a run?"

Titus nodded, "Woof."

***

After fifteen minutes wandering around a labyrinth of hedges, unnecessarily elaborate statues, the odd red-hatted gnome, and vibrant flowerbeds, Raven found Damian by a duck pond. Wayne Manor's very own duck pond. Filled with at least a dozen little ducks.

Raven snorted. Knowing Damian, he had probably already asserted himself as Motherduck Supreme. Judging by the fluffy ball of sandy brown sitting on his shoulder, and the several other chicks generally existing around him, Raven reckoned her assumption was correct.

Upon hearing Raven clear her throat, Damian turned around. After a moment, he gently removed the chick from his shoulder. Damian stood, holding the duckling, and greeted Raven, "Good afternoon." He looked up at the sky, squinting. "It is the afternoon, I see. Just past midday."

The witch raised an eyebrow, "You have ducks."

"Anas platyrhynchos, yes." He gestured to the group milling about the pond. "Commonly known as the Mallard duck. Not native to North America. "he stroked the duckling in his hand. "We have that in common."

Damian held the duckling towards her, and smirked, "They won't bite you. I've trained the robins to attack, but these ducks I have so far been unable to instruct." His dissatisfaction was clear.  "Nonetheless, they are a comfort."

"I think I'll pass." Raven politely declined. "I'm not a fan of birds- other than blackbirds."

Damian returned the duckling to the water, frowning, "Huh. Raven doesn't like birds." He rolled up his sleeves, "Not even ravens?"

The witch shook her head and watched the rippling water to divert her attention from Damian's forearms. "They all seem to have something against me." Even as she said it, a mother duck glared at her from the pond.

Damian shrugged, "To each their own." Then asked, "Was there something in particular that you needed?"

"Um..." Raven wracked her brains. What was it? She was bored- so she went to Damian. Why did she do that? And why were his eyes that vividly green? Wow they were beautiful. The demoness chided herself for digressing and thought back: why had she gone to Damian?

"TT. You've forgotten."

Apologising, Raven made to bid him goodbye and return to the Manor, but Damian stopped her. Having visited his ducks, Damian would return to the house anyway, so they could walk back together.

The two walked in silence for some time, the summer breeze occasionally blowing through the hedges and tweeting birds the only sounds accompanying them. Raven took the hairband from around her wrist- one of Stephanie's scrunchies- and tied her hair back. She pulled off her jumper and tied it around her waste, leaving her in a cornflower blue vest.

"It's hot." She finally said.

Damian nodded. He tugged at his turtleneck, hummed, "I suppose it is." and looked at the ground.

Raven fumbled with the ends of the sleeves, tied around her waist, and searched for something to say. She decided at long last on, "You probably shouldn't wear that. It's too hot for turtlenecks and jumpers."

Internally, she screamed. That was a stupid thing to say. Why did she say that? Of all the things to say she chose 'Don't wear turtlenecks Damian'...By Azar she was loosing it. Perhaps the heat was making her drowsy.

"TT. I have standards." Damian stuck his chin up, and stiffly pulled his sleeves down.

Seeing that his comment hadn't achieved the desired effect, Damian amended dejectedly, "It was meant to be humorous."

As the witch continued staring at nothing, Damian said, "Raven!"

Startled, she looked at him, wide-eyed, and her hands flared with magic, "What, what is it?!"

He leapt away from her, rather, from her blazing, magical hands. Realising that she'd zoned-out, Raven apologised profusely, the live magic extinguishing from view.

After a moment, they resumed walking, and Damian noted, "You seem distracted. Is something worrying you?"

That is very good. Reach out- be empathetic. Offer her help. Show emotional commitment. Women like that- I hear. Though I don't know who I heard it from. Was it Horus? He might have mentioned it? Or maybe Aphrodite mentioned it when I saw her in Istanbul for Dionysus' soirée-"

Anubis!

My apologies! I'm rambling again! Continue your wooing!

Wooing? TT. And father says my slang needs work.

"No," Raven sighed, "I'm fine."

Damian saw the lack of conviction in her words and asked, "Trigon?"

"Thankfully not." She went to tuck her hair behind her ear before realising she'd already tied it up.

He watched the way her forehead was drawn forwards and her eyes remained downcast. Damian then looked at the scrunchy holding her hair away from her face (purple with yellow waffles drawn on with sharpie). It suited her: tying up her hair. Something about the ponytail and fringe framed her face in an undeniably endearing way. Damian voiced as much, and Raven was taken aback.

"Sorry what?"

The hunter crouches down, poised, ready to pounce.

TT. Really Anubis?

Damian stopped walking and answered sincerely, "You should tie up your hair more often, it suits you."

The witch regained the ability to speak after a moment, after swallowing a little scream. "Do you really think so?"

He raises on to his hind legs and marks his prey with keen eyes.

Damian lowered his head and his voice, "Yes. I do." And closed his eyes as she pulled her lips up to meet his.

AND HE GOES IN FOR THE KILL!

Shut up Anubis!

A.N:

Well wasn't that lovely and fluffy? Not much happened, but I thought we all needed a bit of pure positivity at the end of another week of Corona. This lockdown is taking its toll on me.

I will loose my mind cooped up at home with my family. God help me.

Thank you my darlings!

-Bats :3