They sit down, the air between them something Damian doesn't have words for. It's snowing outside, he can see it falling through her balcony doors and the kitchen window.

In front of him is a faux fireplace, making soft cracking noises and only adding to the ambience her presence brings. Something magical and enticing.

His gaze finally moves back to her when she sits down, calmer than he thought she'd be. Everything about her is so pretty, so alluring, and it's hard to look anywhere else. He wants to run his hands through her silken hair and drown in that intoxicating marshmallow scent.

The thoughts render his face scarlet.

When those golden eyes turn on him, they smile, and Damian wonders how anyone can talk about such an obviously dark past with a smile.

"You sit so far from me," she says, faking a pout now, before promptly standing up, side-stepping towards Damian and dropping down right up against him.

Damian blushes and looks away. He wants to be close to her, but not so much as she might notice the heat of his skin or the sweat pouring buckets off of him.

Expecting it, he allows her to gently turn his head back around. At the same time her other hand grabs his arm, lifts it and puts it around her shoulders. The sultry smile shifts to something cuter and gentler. It puts him at ease and exhales, settling back into her too-plush couch and allowing her to lean into him.

"Why now?" Is the first thing out of his mouth. He hopes he doesn't sound unappreciative.

"I trust you," she says, patting his knee. It doesn't help. "Haven't I made that obvious milashka? I trust you with my name, my home... Why should I not trust you with my history? The parts that matter, anyway."

The parts that matter?...So, she was not going to divulge everything, then. Not that Damian minded. He'd be happy with her last name.

"You heard Arjan mention the Seer, da?"

"Yes, I know the name. He is a member of the Twisted 12 as well, isn't he?"

Klavdiya nods, "not he...Seer is just Seer. No boy, no girl. Seer is number 7 of the Twisted 12."

"What number are you?" Damian asks.

"I am 12/12. It says here," she points to the centre of her chest, Damian is blushing again, "in a tattoo."

"You have a tattoo?"

Klavdiya grins, reaching up and grabbing the hand Damian has around the back of the couch.

"Maybe I'll let you see it sometime, hm?" She asks playfully, slowly pulling his hand down over her shoulder, over her collar-bone and-...promptly, she pushes it back to where it was.

"Why do you do such lewd things!?" Damian demands, his face becoming unnaturally hot. A memory of Tim telling him people don't say the word 'lewd' to often clouds his mind. How lame he must have sounded.

"Lewd? I'll show you lewd later, Milashka," she grins, "but for now, let me tell you a story."

Impatient and embarrassed, Damian shuffles around, turning his body towards her.

"You can tell me," he murmurs, not meeting her eyes, "I promise, no one else has to know." The smile she gives him is true and honest. He feels the air between them warm and settle.

"My uncle is Gennadi Iskra, owner of the brand Lezviye."

He recognises the name and doesn't hide his surprise. Very famous in the business world; a tycoon of sorts for oil, mining in Australia, airlines in Europe, realestate in Asia and plenty of other industries. Not to mention extremely wealthy.

"You might know Rusé, the car company that falls under it's umbrella? My sister and I own it. Once I turn eighteen he is also gifting us the oil company Fyodor."

Damian blanches, "You're getting a 70 million dollar company for your birthday?"

Klavdiya laughs shortly, "I've been trying to figure out how to say no for a long time now. My uncle does his best to give Val and I the world...because of what happened to us as children."

Her tone drops considerably into a more serious sound. It's rare and gives Damian the chills

"My father was a good man, at least when I was born. Both Val and my uncle say that. He only started to lose his mind when my mother miscarried between Galina and I. Galina was my little sister. We had two brothers as well. Feliks was a few years younger than Val, Luka was the baby."

Damian doesn't know what to say. The 'had' throws him off. Dead? Separated?

"He was a scientist. I don't remember much about the beginning of his experiments. I was only three." His stomach turns. "My mother was just as broken over losing the baby so she was open to 'making us better'. He had different methods but the one he became known for was transferring the powers of superhumans into his subjects."

Her head is tilted away from him so he can't see her expression, but he imagines she is crying. How could one not when recounting such a sad past?

"We were kept in the lab cells beneath the house more than the actual house. I used to think it was my bedroom. I was too young to understand what was happening to me." His heart aches and without even thinking about it, he gently rubs his thumb over her arm. An unusually tender gesture, for him. "At first my sister and my brothers were the only subjects until it proved too much for each of them. When it was just Val and I left alive he started to kidnap children from all over the world and collect superhuman genes for his serums. The Flash, Captain Atom, Superman and Killer Frost in particular."

That part jogs Damian's memory, "This is...The Crow case."

Klavdiya nods solemnly, "That's my father. Rodin the Crow."

"I remember reading about those cases when I was a child. He would attack random heroes and villains and use a weaponised syringe to extract meta-human cells from them. Using them to create more metas was just one of the theories on his motives."

Klavdiya nods, "I had no meta-human cells, but my father extracted some of Flash's and managed to move them into my system. Here I am." She holds her arm out in presentation half-heartedly, like she's nothing special.

Damian could tell her otherwise.

"We later found out he had nearly a hundred syringes from different meta-humans, as well as another hundred subjects from all over the world. The Twisted 12 were the only subjects that survived."

No wonder they go by the name.

"Vermillion, is 1/12. Then there is my sister Gleam, then Fantasy. You just met the vigilante known as Persephone, down at that boutique."

So that why she had such dull, grey eyes. Persephone, whom once trained under Phantom Stranger. Damian relays this to Klavdiya and she nods.

"Yes that's the one. There is also Sculptor, Forecast, Lazer, Roar, Lucid and Goldmine. All powers descended form other villains or heroes. We were rescued by Red Robin and Batman. I was seven. Gleam was almost eighteen."

He wonders what Valeria is like. Klavdiya is obviously flighty and bubbly and sweet and yes, lewd. If she went into the same torture at age fourteen, did she come out a different kind of person? All he knows about her masked time is that she was on the wrong side of the law until someone tried to change her.

Damian remembers Jason telling the story. Nightwing swept Gleam away in an attempt to change her ways. He and many others hoped that in changing Gleam, they would change her girlfriend at the time, Vermillion, the leader of the Twisted 12.

"What happened between them?" Damian asks.

Klavdiya shrugs, "They just realised one day that whilst they liked each other a lot, they were not going to work. Valeria did not want to be something she was not and more importantly, be with someone she didn't love. I was told Nightwing did not want to get in the way of that second part and that's why he let her go. She married Rowan in the next month."

He doesn't react to the slight at his brother.

"When did my father unmask himself to you?"

Klavdiya shuffles forward and turns to look at him. She's smiling and he doesn't see any tears, or any sign of distress. Perhaps a decade on from her suffering she is less inclined to cry about it.

"They couldn't get in contact with my Uncle Gennadi for a while so he ended up taking myself and another one of the younger members in. Me being me I kind of...raced into the Batcave and that blonde in the purple suit almost died of fright."

Damian snorts, "Spoiler?"

"That's the one!"

She laughs freely and it breaks the heaviness the story had put on the room. Damian wriggles, feels like he can move again. She takes his hand in hers, turning his palm up and observing the scars.

"Anyway, that brings me to the point of this story."

She gives a nervous little laugh, obviously amused at what she is about to say.

"We have a...I don't know the word in English. In Russian we call it lozung or deviz. It is words you say and believe in."

"Mantra? Motto?" Damian tries.

Klavdiya shrugs, "You get it though, da?"

He nods, "We have one; Love was never meant for us, but we keep trying anyway. It's something my sister used to say. There are members of the 12 who can't accept love, or give it. Sometimes the things you see change how you view the world."

Damian easily connects with the sadness in her voice. He of all people can understand what it is like to stare death in the face and as a result, fear real life.

"Yes," is all he can say. It doesn't fit, but it's enough.

"Vermillion and Gleam are married, but that's it. None of the others are even in a relationship." She traces Damian's palm, and despite all of the seriousness he shivers. "I asked Seer if it would ever happen to me."

She stops, looking up to smile at him.

"He told me the first boy I meet in Gotham is the one for me. So I went to Gotham... And who should knock me on my ass as I am racing along rooftops? Why, you, milashka."

Klavdiya stares pointedly at Damian, with a little smile that reads nervous. The boy can't quite comprehend the words,

"Someone...predicted...us?"

Klavdiya tuts, much like Damian used to, "Weren't you listening?"

She pokes his forehead playfully, before twisting around and settling onto Damian's lap, facing him. Damian automatically places his hands on her waist as he tries to keep his head, heart, breathing, cheeks and other things under control, feeling her weight against his body.

"So that's why you're doing this?" He asks, fingers wondering how hard they should be pressing. He can feel the heat of her skin through the material

"No," Klavdiya responds. Then she looks at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Yes. Maybe. Why wouldn't I? Seer told me you were the person for me. It's just a bonus that you are adorable and so opposite to me. So easy to like."

One manicured hand brushes down his cheek, igniting tingles on his skin as he stares up at her. His hands move from her waist to join behind her back, armsfully surrounding her.

The faux fire glowing fire in the room adds to the ethereal presence she has always held. He waits impatentiently for those lips to finally be on his.

Klavdiya edges closer, closer, closer...

There is a cheeky smirk on her lips instead.

Damian huffs, "You would tease the person you've been waiting for in such a manor?"

Klavdiya giggles softly, so close now her voice runs right through his body. He matches her shut eyes, letting instead the feel and the contact dictate everything.

The lack of secrets and the new truth between them knocks down boundaries, has him yearning for the connection they can finally have.

"I'm not teasing."

"You are."

"No."

"Then kiss me."

"Why should I? It's always me."

"Tt-It's not..." Damian trails off. He knew she was grinning.

Their lips brush, meeting half way, the movement almost coy. When they're done being cruel to each other a brush of lips becomes a heated press.

As they always have, her lips taste like marshmallows and everything wonderful. Damian's arms tighten around her like her ribs might snap, and knowing that if they did and she'd barely feel it, then heal straight away makes it all the more enticing.

Her arms are wound tightly around his neck. Even when they breathe against each other, too starved of such affections to break away, neither can really breathe because they are intertwined so tightly.

Eventually Damian's lack of meta-human cells shows and he gently loosens his hold, telling Klavdiya he needs to breathe and crack his neck.

She relents, not dislodging from him but allowing him to relax slightly.

Jade and golden eyes reflect the same emotions, the same desires, and the same thoughts.

"Damian," she whispers, not milashka. It sends shivers everywhere. Instead of responding with a panted whisper of her name, he puts his arms back where they were and shuffles slightly.

Understanding, Klavdiya moves her legs from either side of Damian's. When he stands up slowly, fluidly, they wrap around him.

"You're heavier than you look," he murmurs, earning a slap to the shoulder.

"It's called muscle."

"I don't doubt that."

They stumble over to the faux fireplace, jutting out from the wall just enough for him to rest her on it, so he can draw away to look at her.

Silently, they agree. They both know there is no stopping. Everything is chemical and the chemicals always result in one thing.

"This," she says simply, tugging on his shirt. Damian looks down at the dark material, before agreeing that it needs to go. He grabs the hem and pulls it up over his head, tossing it away.

Seeing Klavdiya bite her lip, fixated on his abdominal area, makes him want to blush and hide yet show off and pose.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she reaches for her own flowing top. He can't help but move to help her, scrambling to undo the buttons down the front.

Once they're undone she pulls Damian in for another kiss. Even with his eyes closed he knows she is pushing her top off of her shoulders.

She lets him go and Damian is met with an extremely new sight. He should have expected the colour of her undergarments to be as such, but still the pastel purple surprises him.

Klavdiya grins when he can't stop staring, reaching instead for the waistband of her high shorts. One hand begins to pull the denim down, the other held out to Damian. He takes it, in awe more than nerves and allows her to guide his hand over, to help her remove them.

When she is only in her underwear and he in his jeans, they're kissing again, wrapped in each other. Damian is getting high on her intoxicating scent, face buried in her neck.

Suddenly, everything comes to a halt when she gives a little jump, gasping. Damian draws back to see her staring at something over his shoulder.

Dreading that it was what he suspected, Damian slowly turns his head to the nearby window.

Sure enough, both Jason and Dick, Red-Hood-Nightwing-get-up clad and staring in shock are out in the snow watching.

Pure unadulterated rage builds like a fire inside Damian. He turns back to Klavdiya who looks more annoyed than creeped out and kisses her.

"You deal with this," she says calmly, slipping down off of the fireplace. They both stand there, half naked, staring up/down at each other. "I'll be in my room..." Without picking up her clothes she confidently strides across the living room to her bedroom door, but not before stopping, looking over her shoulder and smiling at him, "...Waiting for you."

The last thing he sees is her grab some form of food before continuing out.

Not caring that he's shirtless and dishevelled with swollen lips and other obvious appearance, he dashes over to the window and slams it open.

"What!?"

Both men stare at the boy who they swear was just ten years old discovering cartoons and comics a few months ago.

Jason starts slowly, "You-"

"What do you mean what? I told you one thing Dami. One thing and you couldn't even-"

"Grayson! You do not get to dictate to me who I see and what I do!" Damian has had enough. He feels like he has been torn from a heaven he has only just found. "The only person who even remotely has a say approves of us! You tracked my phone, right? Are you that concerned?"

Jason glances between the two, helmet turning back and forth, before he takes a step back.

"I don't care," is all he says, turning around to jumpoff.

"Jay!"

"You said this was important. The kid's in love, let him have it. Besides, you can't talk. Neither can I. Neither can Tim. Later kid, use protection!"

Jason is gone, leaving the eldest and the youngest to face off.

"You need to come home, Dami. If you want we can find-"

Damian slams the window shut, Dick only just managing to remove his fingers. The older watches in disbelief as Damian shuts the curtains on him.

The teen takes deep, measured breaths, trying to calm his anger. They don't understand that she's not dangerous, or evil, or bad for him.

If anything, he has never felt so understood. So focused on.

Something small and soft hits the back of his head. Damian looks down to see a marshmallow rolling past him. It makes him smile.

He turns around to see her watching him.

"Are you okay?" She asks softly. "Do you...need to go home?"

Damian wipes his hands on his jeans, taking one last deep breath before smiling at her.

"I'm alright," he says, walking over. She grins and he follows her into her bedroom.