Bruce worked up a fine sweat in the arduous task of eating breakfast. In his peripheral vision, he kept an acute watch on the kitchen door.

"Oh dear Master Wayne, are you becoming unwell?" Alfred, at his side, tutted, gliding a buttery knife over some toast. He looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and bristling moustache, pinning down the glistening dew of Bruce's temple.

The man cleared his throat.

"No, not at all Alfred." And he tried to pass it off with a swig of his coffee- only to choke.

"Really now Master Wayne," Alfred set firmly down his toast and stood with his hands on his hips, "what is the trouble. I will not hesitate to restrain you, Master Wayne, to perform a medical examination." He added to himself, "Lord knows I've had to do it before."

Bruce wasn't ill you see- and so he insisted. But his nerves were atingle and his brain was muddled. His hands were clumsy and spoons of his cereal had ended up missing his mouth far too often. Oh those nerves...his stomach tumbled.

Bruce had a little box that he needed to speak to his family about. He ought to speak to Damian first (out of his children) because Damian would need time, perhaps. But the boy was still sensitive from the parting of his grandmother and the blessing of Anubis.

Bruce wondered if now was the right time to be doing this. He thought of the countless that had died in Darkseid's invasion. Time is a precious thing. It is all a mortal truly has. Bruce did not want to waste it.

"If it's not medical Master Bruce..."

"Alfred I need your advice." The man finally said, voice quiet and hinging on desperation.

The butler turned completely and pulled out a stool. He sat primly and properly and his expectant silence beckoned Bruce in to talking.

He sighed, "It's about...this." The man reached in to the inner pocket of his jacket and procured a small, square, black box.

Alfred's eyes widened with understanding.
***

The rhythmic drumming of Damian's fingers on his armrest was driving Raven to grit her teeth and suppress a barked 'stop it!'. It was deliberate and Damian was observing her keenly, with humour behind his eyes and lingering in his aura.

Damian, tender and beautiful, was forgotten. This was chess and Damian played. Very, very well.

He was a composed, keen, combatant, following the delicate tremors as her fingertips etched towards a pawn or a rook.

It was their first game since the invasion- since Damian had been blessed; since Raven had been purged and purified. She was a bloody, biting demon, certainly- but in her own right and by her own control. She was equal to her Pride, equal to her power; not struggling to suppress it.

They were changed. Raven felt it in her bones. She saw it in Damian's eyes: they had been old before, but know they glowed with the ancient knowledge of sands and swaying river reeds. Stronger physically, certainly, but stronger in spirit too.

And now, in this here game of chess, their newfound wisdoms and peaces were tried most spectacularly: channeled through the carefully contemplated movement of small wooden figues upon a checkerboard.

Raven settled for the rook and it's potential use six moves ahead. She set it down solidly and Damian raised an eyebrow.

"Vraiment?" He said.

"Bien sûre." She smiled in satisfaction.

Earlier that morning, Bruce had declared the restarting of an old practice in the Batcave and Manor of scheduling days in the week dedicated to the improvement of linguistic skills. Today was French. Raven attributed her knowledge of the language primarily to a particularly eventful winter amongst the Vampiric Sisterhood of Montpellier a few years ago.

Their game was cut short by a rapping on the library door and the subsequent swaggering entry of Stephanie Brown. Her almost criminally horrific crocs slapped the floor irritatingly with every step.

"Heyyy- whatcha playing?" She said, hanging off of a short bookshelf casually.

Damian tilted his head and something of an exasperated grimace overcame his face. He held a hand out and gestured to the figures on the checkered board.

"I wonder what game this could possibly be." Raven said, deadpan, returning Damian's energy.

Stephanie blew a wisp of hair out of her face- only for it to fall back over her forehead. She tucked it back and snorted at the teenagers' collective attitude, "Yeah fair enough. Chess is for nerds." Steph used the term with an affection in her voice, sticking her chin at the them teasingly.

"TT. What is it Brown?" Damian leant back in the armchair, frustrated to have had their game interrupted. He glanced at Raven and she gave him one of equal frustration: she'd really wanted to wipe that smugness from his face.

"B's after you. I don't know what for. Not much of "the world's greatest detective"if he can't even find you." Stephanie smirked. "At least you're only playing chess here- I heard Jason walked in on you two..." she watched with satisfaction as Damian's ears reddened and Raven (surprised) sucked in her cheeks and seemed to freeze.

"What nonsense has he been spreading?" He huffed. "Rah kasroh! (I will break him)"

The blonde slapped her forehead comically, revelling in their spluttering states, "Oh noooooo I forgot it's french day...huh...well did he see you guys about to...you know...do some 'faire-ing of amour'?"

"Now hold on-"

"En français s'il te plaît sweetie." Stephanie wiggled her eyebrows at Raven.

The glare she received was blaring red and entirely of Raven's own doing. Her demon was not released as last resort of anger any more; it was at one with her human soul and they were, united, her.
Stephanie recoiled a little at the ferocity but recovered with what she'd call 'mega respect': she thought it was pretty fucking neat that the girl was a half-demon.

"We were just kissing for Azar'a sake!" Raven said, "TT. Don't exaggerate it."

And Damian broke the tension with a chuckle.

Raven turned to him, "What? What's funny?"

Still thinking about it, he laughed again, biting his knuckle as he glanced up at his girlfriend.

She insisted again. Stephanie backed her, wanting to be in on the joke.

"No no- it's only that you...well you did the," his explanation was a melody stuck between speech and laughter, "the tutting thing, you know? It's funny that you've taken that speech pattern is all." He fiddled amusedly and absently with a black bishop that he'd taken from Raven.

She rested her temple on an exaggeratedly distraught palm, "Oh dear I'm becoming you! Keep your indoctrination away from me."

"No no, it's amusing-"

"Amusing!"

"-I meant endearing. It's...very nice." Damian chuckled. She raised a deadly black eyebrow and he held up his hands. "By Azar, I promise it is cute."

He'd made the mistake of using her own turn of phrase, swearing by Azar, and so suffered the mock-wrath of his girlfriend whilst Stephanie chipped in her own two pence wherever she could to tease.

Their conversation passed from speech patterns to training and then to work- superhero work. Stephanie was a witty comic, but a sweet, sympathetic person beneath the bravado. Raven enjoyed her company and if she did, then that was at least one half of Damian's soul that liked Stephanie.

But the catch-up was inevitable to end and did so with a gruff, tentative 'ehem' at the door.

"Damian, can I speak with you for a moment."

The boy was struck with a scared stillness and felt at once guilty for something he hadn't done.

His father was dressed for work (crisp suit, shined shoes) but wouldn't be going to the office that day. His hands were in his trouser pockets: Bruce only stuck them there when he was worried. And his lips were pressed in a hard line.

Was that a sweat on his brow?

Damian might've been on the defensive if the ancient instinct of Anubis and Raven's aura of concern hadn't guided him otherwise.

"Something you aren't able to share in front of Raven and Stephanie." Damian was cautious.

Steph noticed that it was probably the first time she'd ever heard him use her name.

Bruce lifted his eyebrows, having become conscious of how downcast they were, and kept his voice even, "Something I would prefer to discuss with you alone."

The violent currents of emotion- that lighted the doorway around him like fireworks- were enough to stop Raven from feeling offended. She squeezed her boyfriend's hand, across the round table, reassuringly, and inclined her head in Bruce's direction: Damian ought to speak to his father.

He rose mutely and (with legs struggling to mask a tremor) followed his father a few doors down the corridor to a spare room, entering first. His father closed the door behind them. Bruce took advantage of the old furniture and sat down on a sofa. He rose again almost immediately and knitted his fingers behind his head, pacing.

Damian narrowed his eyes- the problem evidently wasn't him. Channeling the therapist energy that he'd learnt from Raven, Damian leant against an oak chest of drawers and folded his arms, following the man with bemused eyes.

"Father?" He prodded.

The man stood still and sighed.

"Damian I...I am about to make a big decision- a very big one. And it's not something that I wanted to do without telling you first." He looked at the boy with a fatherly fatigue. "You're my son and you have a right not to be...surprised when...if it happens. I understand that you might be upset or-"

"Please father, just hurry up and say it."

All the way in the Titans Tower, Damian was certain Superboy could hear his heart thumping.

Bruce inhaled, meeting his son's firm, fearful gaze, and exhaled resolutely.

"I am going to ask Selina to marry me."

A.N:

Well my lovelies...it has been a hot minute since last time. How are you all?
I've just finished alllll my studying and exams and have now got a massive three month summer holiday ahead of me!
This book is coming to a close (heartbreaking, I know) but do not fear! I will be releasing something new following that. If you have any kool ideas, why not drop them below if you don't mind giving a little inspiration since I'm clueless as to what I want to write.
This book's been a pleasure to write! I'll see you in the next chapter!

Thank you!

-Bats :)