this chapter is dedicated to XxQueenKraylxX one of my longest readers and the funniest bitch on the planet. thanks for being so supportive girl, ur comments are the best ❤️❤️

The next morning

Dick's P.O.V:

I gently pushed open Sasha's door to see if she'd awoken yet. Everyone in the manor was worried about her, she'd suffered some extreme injuries that most children her age couldn't withstand.

But what I saw next made me drop the mug of coffee i'd been holding, which was thankfully almost empty.

"I must be dreaming," I gasped, giving my cheek a hard slap.

But no, apparently, I was very much awake.

"What's up with you?" Jason frowned from down the hall, clearly noticing the cup on the floor and the way I was standing frozen like a statue.

He neared me, snapping his fingers wildly as if trying to wake me from a trance.

I wasn't in a trance, but I was very, very close to one.

"What the fu—," Jason was interrupted when his eyes landed on the sight before him.

His mouth hung open. "Oh, wow. Oh, woooww."

I couldn't believe it. Lying on Sasha's bed, arms draped around her neck and tangled in her hair was Damian Wayne, his eyes closed peacefully and his chin planted on top of her head.

He was fast asleep. They both were.

Two of the deadliest assassins I'd ever came into contact with were holding each other. And sleeping.

Damian never slept, not easily, anyway. We all knew there were a lot of things that kept him up at nights, a lot of painful thoughts and memories that he tried to keep at bay.

He'd also been trained to expect surprise attacks and ambushes at any second, his brain never fully shutting off, not even for a few minutes of rest. It made sleeping very difficult for him, and even after four years he still hadn't quite overcome it yet.

But this... this was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. The two of them, both riddled with all sorts of traumas and trusts issues alike, cuddled up beside each other so vulnerably.

"I have to take a photo of this," I breathed.

Jason just kept staring, wide eyed. "The kid actually did it."

I pulled out my phone and clicked on the camera app, snapping a photo.

But my ringer was on.

Oh, shit...

The snapshot noise rung out loudly, almost echoing off the walls of the huge room as I winced and immediately regretted my entire being and existence.

Damian's eyes flung open immediately.

"Grayson," he seethed.

And that was when I took off down the hall, Jason's laughs filling the air behind me.

"You're dead!"

----------------------------------

Sasha's P.O.V

I wasn't sure if last night had been a dream or not.

Everything seemed weird when I woke up, rays of sunlight casting over my bed, showing off every single one of my injuries for me to see.

It was easier at night, knowing that I was bruised up but not able to see the full extent of what had happened. Now that the lighting had changed I could see every detail of the gruesome stabs and cuts littering my skin.

It made me feel sick.

But what was even more concerning was the realization of what had occurred with a certain... raven haired boy in this very bed. I had been hurt and vulnerable and high on painkillers and my emotions had been through the roof.

I had kissed him.

I had kissed Damian Wayne.

And I'd really fucking liked it.

The second we woke up, I barely had the chance to process the position of our bodies as he had raced out of bed, chasing after someone who'd been standing in the doorway.

"Damian?" I mumbled, my eyes still half-closed and my face groggy.

It didn't seem like he was coming back, so I reluctantly removed the sheets and headed to the bathroom.

I needed a shower. Badly.

But it seemed like my body wasn't in the right condition to walk around just yet. My legs gave out the minute I touched the floor and I fell, catching myself with my hands.

Ow.

"You should be resting, Miss Sasha," Alfred's voice filled the room and I turned my head to see him.

He was standing by the door, holding a tray of breakfast that smelt like heaven. he placed the meal down and moved toward me, lifting me back into the bed and tucking the duvet around me.

It was nice, to be honest. He was behaving like the father -- or grandfather -- I'd never had, caring for me in a paternal way.

"Thank you, Alfred," I mumbled as he placed the tray in front of me.

He just smiled. "I'll alert master Bruce of your awakening. He was quite concerned about your health, I should assure you. He worries for you a great deal."

Bruce.

Or rather, the Batman.

Alfred left me to eat, but I found myself just staring blankly at the steaming pile of bacon and eggs.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

My adopted father was Batman.

It was utterly crazy. The one man who'd scared me more than anything in the world happened to be the man who was caring for me, providing me with school and clothes and fancy devices and toys and warm meals like this.

It was insane.

Slade was so wrong about him, I realized. Slade had always told me that Batman was a freak dressed in a halloween costume with no compassion for anyone, throwing innocents into jail and ruining the lives of poor people who were just doing what they needed to do to get by.

But no, he wasn't any of that. He was a caring man, a father to three boys who had lost their own and a real one to the other. He had helped me so many times, taught me valuable lessons, saved me from my torturous life at Midnight.

I was grateful to him. I was so, so grateful to him. Without Bruce I'd still be at Midnight, enduring ruthless training exercises and being forced to kill people I didn't want to.

Painful memories flashed through my mind at the mere the thought of it.

Oh, Bruce.

How can I ever thank you?

------------------------------------

A few days later

Over the next couple of days my blood infection began to heal, thankfully. I slept most of the time, the drugs and anesthetics the only things keeping me from unbearable pain and thus knocking me out.

Damian came in and checked on me a lot. He would lay beside me, carding his fingers through my hair, just being there with me.

I knew he never slept when I did. Damian was similar to me in that way, his assassin training keeping him awake most hours of the night. I would've been the same if not for the drugs. I was grateful for them, as lying in bed awake all the time was never enjoyable.

We didn't speak much while I healed. I wanted to tell him stuff, wanted to speak with about everything. About us.

What even were we? A couple or something? That didn't feel right to me. I wasn't... normal like that. I wasn't like every other teen, dating people and having "boyfriends."

I was an ex-assassin, for god's sake. I had so many issues and traumas preventing me from having any sort of relationship.

But with Damian... well, I guess it was different. I felt safe with him. I felt a little more normal with him, considering he was just as fucked up as I was. He understood me, and I understood him.

Things had calmed down about the whole Talia incident, too. While we were all still in recovery mode, the boys had gotten back into their routines, studying and working during the days and watching over Gotham City during the nights.

On one of the rare moments that I was awake, Bruce had informed me about Conner. He said he'd been grateful to his assistance in helping rescue me and was therefore allowing him to stay as long as he needed.

"He doesn't have a home," I'd said, a deep sense of pity resting in my gut. "He doesn't deserve this... all this pain he's had to go through. He deserves a loving family."

And so Bruce had decided to chip in on that suggestion of mine. Conner came to visit me one morning and sat on the end of my bed, explaining with excitement how a nice rich family had offered to take him in.

I was so happy for him. All these years he'd had to suffer, and now he was finally able to live the life he deserved. A nice neighborhood, a nice family, nice opportunities. He'd gone from having nothing to having everything in only a couple days.

Just like I had.

He would be attending Gotham Academy, too, it seemed. His first chance at a proper childhood. I knew he'd make friends immediately, he'd always been popular and likable in that way. And besides, if he could get a facility full of child-assassins to respect him, I'm sure he could get a bunch of spoiled rich kids, too.

Wait.

School.

As I laid peacefully in the gigantic marble bathtub that my ensuite withheld, the sudden realization of my absence at Gotham Academy jolted me from my thoughts.

With wet fingers I fumbled for my phone, soap suds sliding down my arms and onto the screen. Luckily it was the newest iPhone design, and therefore waterproof.

Being rich is the best.

I hadn't checked my phone in at least a week due to the fact that I'd been fucking kidnapped. With my injuries being my main concern at that moment, I hadn't touched it since I'd gotten back.

When I turned it on I saw that I had at least 50 notifications from Rebecca and Summer alike, each varying over different days:

R: sasha?? u weren't at school today so i took notes for u bc science was rly hard and i knew u wouldn't get it lol i didn't either

R: hey are u sick or something?

R: helloooooo

S: hey sasha can we talk today

S: i know haven't been at school much but theres something i need to tell u

R: bro people are asking about u and damian not being at school is something up

S: sasha?

R: ok now im kinda worried are u ok?

S: omg are u mad at me i feel like ur mad at me did i do something wrong im so sorry

R: sasha?? srsly girl im freaking out its been days

S: pls dont be mad at me

R: where are u?? do u need help??

S: sasha becca says she hasn't heard from u in ages im rly worried now

Guilt washed over me. I should've known my friends would be worried, they hadn't heard from Damian or I in over a week. Rebecca always texted me every afternoon and Summer, although distant after the Coach situation, usually sent me fashion inspiration and other beauty tips.

I quickly typed into our groupchat:

Me: guys im so so sorry

Almost immediately I got a reply.

R: DUDE UR ALIVE OH MY GOD

R: ARE U OKAY ARE U HURT TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED

Me: i'll explain everything at school i promise

S: jesus christ sasha where were u??

Me: some stuff from my past went down but its okay guys. im okay now

S: oh my god are u sure??

R: u better not be hurt sasha i swear to god

It was... sweet how they cared so much about me. I'd never had anything like that before. It made me happy.

I was about to reply when there was a knock at my bedroom door.

"Sasha?"

Damian.

I practically sprung from the bathtub, my phone flying from my grasp. It landed in the water and I began to swear as I fished around for it.

"Pennyworth wished to ask if you wanted dinner brought to your bed, or if you preferred to sit at the table tonight."

I considered this for a moment. Here I was, naked, covered in soap bubbles, my hair soaked and tangled. I was no where near presentable to the Wayne family. Plus, I needed my bandages changed before I could go anywhere.

But there was a faint nagging sensation in my gut. For some reason, I felt the urge to go downstairs. To be with everyone around the table.

To be with him.

"Uh..." I stuttered, fingers finally landing on my phone and pulling it to the surface. "Actually... yeah, I'll come. Tell him I'll join you guys."

What the fuck am I doing.

I could hear him standing in my doorway, most likely leaning against the wall.

"You okay in there?" He inquired, and I knew he could hear me splashing around like an idiot.

"Um, yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I laughed back, though my voice clearly shook with nerves.

I could practically feel him shaking his head at me as his footsteps receded down the hall. I wanted to slap myself for behaving like such a fool around him. Why did he have to be so cool and collected? Just why?

But then I realized something, and as I jumped out of the tub and reached for my towel I said, "Wait, Damian."

I heard him make his way back to the doorway, waiting for me to speak.

My cheeks flushed red from embarrassment. "I... I need your help with my bandages."

Ten minutes later I was sitting on the edge of the stool in my bathroom, wearing only pajama shorts and a bralette as Damian stood behind me, applying a plaster to my back.

My heart was racing at his touch on my skin. I didn't know why I was acting like this, it shouldn't have felt so weird. I'd done this hundreds of times at Midnight. Other students used to patch me up while I sat there half naked and it had never been a big deal, it was just part of life. How else was I supposed to get my wounds cleaned, anyway? Someone had to get the hard-to-reach spots.

But this was different. This was him, of all people, and now I was anxiously chewing my lip, watching him through the reflection of the mirror as his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I knew I was overreacting. He probably wasn't thinking anything of this. Hell, he'd barely spoken ten words to me since the kiss all those nights ago.

Maybe he doesn't even like me like that.

No, I tried to erase those thoughts. Why would he lie with me, comfort me, play with my hair and patch me up like this if he didn't feel something?

He's just not one for words, I told myself. That's all.

But I couldn't rid the feeling of uncertainty from my chest.

"Turn around," he suddenly spoke, obviously finished. I did as he said, watching him reach for the bandage roll on the vanity, then begin to wrap a section around his palm and tear the remainder off.

The way his brows creased and his face hardened with focus had my stomach churning. Emerald eyes flickered to my arm and he bandaged it from the shoulder down, the warmth of his fingertips sending my nerve receptors into overdrive.

I tried to focus on something else, anything else, but my gaze kept being torn toward him. When he finished with my arm and his eyes moved to my neck, his hand brushed my hair to the side — causing my heart to flutter — and he inspected the long gash there.

He dressed it with gauze and I tried to stop myself from sweating so much. He was way too close to me, face inches from mine. A couple minutes passed and I assumed he was done. The last few injuries I could reach on my own.

"Um, thank you..." I stood, eyes planted on the floor. I tried to hide the redness of my cheeks.

Why am I being so awkward?

But Damian just blinked at me. "We're not done yet."

I glanced at my large stab wound, mumbling, "Oh, it's okay, I can... I can do this one on my own."

It was no use, apparently, because his eyes narrowed into a glare. "Sit," he gestured to the vanity bench, "Now."

My mouth fell open to resist but I found that I couldn't think of a reply. After a few seconds of me standing there like an idiot, he rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "Don't tell me you're incapable of getting up there yourself."

My face was burning. "I... no, no, I can..."

I lifted myself onto the marble countertop, supressing the grunt of pain that threatened to escape my mouth. My body ached all over, even with painkillers trying their best to dull the feeling,

He stepped toward me, eyes planted on my stomach, and I suddenly felt ten times more insecure. I was so exposed, I realized, and I felt a strong urge to wrap my arms around my body and shield myself.

But Damian was now positioning the white fabric gently above my injury, one hand moving behind my back to wrap it around my waist and bring it back. I could only stare at him, my head slightly above his now with the added height of the vanity. His touch was sending shivers throughout my entire body. It was a miracle I hadn't done anything stupid yet. I knew I was seconds away from embarrassing myself in some way.

The sound of footsteps approaching down the hall interrupted my thoughts. Damian clearly heard it, too, because his ears pricked up and he turned, both our eyes landing on the figure standing in the entrance of my bathroom.

Conner cleared his throat, his eyes drifting between us and a stiff expression that I couldn't quite describe sitting on his face.

"They wanted me to tell you that dinner's ready," he said blankly.

Why is everyone always walking into my en-suite? Does no one understand the meaning of privacy in this house??

I glanced at Damian, who was staring back at conner intensely. I knew him well enough to tell that he was irritated by him. Then again, Damian was irritated by everyone.

"Uh, thanks, Conner," I replied hurriedly, jumping down from the countertop and snatching up my pyjama shirt. I sent him a tight smile. "We'll be down in a second."

The boy just nodded slowly, eyeing us somewhat suspiciously, his jaw tight. He stepped out of view and I threw on my shirt and raked my fingers through my hair, quickly pulling it back into a low bun.

And then I glanced at Damian, noting the way he watched me do all this, his face unreadable. I hated not knowing what he was thinking. Was he revolted? Weirded out? Thinking about how ugly I was in that moment?

And then three simple words left his mouth. "I'll be downstairs."

I was left standing there as he casually exited the bathroom, hands dug into his hoodie pockets and a blank expression on his face.

What the fuck just happened? Did he not realize how intimate that whole situation was, particularly after I'd fucking kissed him only a couple days ago?

This kid makes no sense...

so corona is really making me churn out these chapters for y'all lmao. i'm so bored i'm actually getting shit done now. how's everyone doing with the virus? stay safe plsss x