~Dean likes what he likes and you're not gonna convince him otherwise. OK, well, maybe you can.~
Dean Winchester x Reader
532 Words
Warnings: Ridiculously unnecessary fluff.
A/N: A random thought as I prepped tomorrow's coffee...
Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works
Y/N thanked the blue-haired college student with the green branded visor and handed one of the clear takeaway cups to her passenger. She adjusted the other cup in her left hand as she turned the big leather wheel and pulled away from the drive-thru window.
Dean, who was already on edge since agreeing to let Y/N drive the last hundred miles of the trek back home, glared down at the drink she’d ordered for him. Through the clear cup, he could see a dark liquid quickly being lightened by swirls of white as the thick layer of creamy foam on top settled down. He cocked a brow and scowled.
“The hell is this?”
Y/N eyed him quickly before making a slightly illegal left turn. “Coffee.”
Dean sniffed the cup. “This is not coffee.”
She let the wheel return to center and took a sip of her drink. She hummed happily. “It is,” she told him. “Just try it.”
Dean shook his head. “It's cold.”
“Great work, detective.”
“I don't like iced coffee.”
“It's not iced coffee. Try it.”
He watched her take another sip and lick the foam from her upper lip. A suggestive idea crossed his mind, but there was a more pressing situation at hand.
“If it's not iced, what the hell?”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, Dean. It's cold brew. It's good. Just try it.”
He leered at the drink. “What's all the shit on top?”
A deep breath did little to relax her growing annoyance. They had been on the road for two days already, after coming off a two week case binge. She was tired. He was testing her last nerve.
“It's a vanilla, sweet cream cold brew. It's coffee. It's delicious. Shut the fuck up and taste it.”
Dean tried not to chuckle. She was feisty when she was tired. He liked it.
“I'm not gonna like it,” he promised.
“What are you, a toddler?” Y/N changed lanes and prepared to merge onto the highway.
He grinned.
She sighed. “Try it.”
“No.”
“Where’s the trust, Dean? Huh?”
He gasped dramatically. “Trust? I’m letting you drive my Baby!” He caressed the dashboard protectively. “By the way, you’re a little hard on the brakes-”
Y/N growled.
“Fine!” He sucked in a deep breath and held the cup to his lips. “I’m not gonna like it, I’m telling you. I like my coffee strong. Black. No frilly crap.”
Her upper lip twitched, and Dean shrugged, going in.
He took a tentative sip and closed his eyes as his tongue was washed in the most delectable brew he’d had in a long time. It was delicious. It was perfect, actually. It was-
“So?” Y/N leaned over a bit while keeping her eyes on the road. “Whatcha think?”
Dean faked a cringe. “It’s gross. I told you I’d hate it.”
“Liar. You love it.”
“No.” He scoffed and shifted closer to his door, trying to hide as he took another sip.
“They have a caramel one too…”
His eyes lit up. “Ooo…”
She laughed. “Such a toddler.”
Dean licked some escaped foam from his lip and winked. “Yeah… but I’m adorable.”
tagged by beloveds @kkpwnall & @fastcardotmp3 <3 !! thank u for tagging me MWAH !!! needed to kick the year off right (by writing gay fanfiction)
been working on this fic for a little while now (there are. so many words) and it's not anywhere Near finished but ! thought i could share this lil snippet:
She knows they shouldn’t do this. Agatha’s heart still lies on that cottage floor, jagged and barbed, in a million little pieces. Congealed and rotted into those wooden floorboards. Congealed and rotted inside of her.
If she does not hold onto her hatred, how else will she keep warm? Who is she without it?
She pulls away from Rio, puts as much distance as she can between them. Rio sighs.
“It’s not your fault, you know.”
Finally, something they can both agree on.
“You’re right,” Agatha says. “It’s yours.”
tagging with absolutely no pressure: @judasofsuburbia @cheatghost @figthefruitfaeth @butchhorse @fragilecapric0rnn @bromcommie @chaosangelmp3 & anyone else who would like to participate <3!!!
Welcome to the @hp-coffeehouse monthly prompt post!
@hp-coffeehouse on LJ / DW (Post your works on our AO3 COLLECTION) Tag us, and we’ll reblog your work!
Here’s our next prompt:
"Teacake”
Interpret that how you wish for coffee or tea. RULES ON LJ / DW are here.
This challenge will run all month, and new prompt will be posted on SEPT. 1st!
Welcome to the @hp-coffeehouse monthly prompt post!
@hp-coffeehouse on LJ / DW (Post your works on our AO3 COLLECTION) Tag us, and we’ll reblog your work!
Here’s our next prompt:
“Freedom Blend”
Interpret that how you wish for coffee or tea. RULES ON LJ / DW are here.
This challenge will run all month, and new prompt will be posted on August 1st!
"Tt. I can see how you might come to that solution. If I had not been here before I probably would have thought the same thing."
"You've been here before?" She sits up straighter. "Before we met?"
"Only once and I wasn't here for very long."
Marinette tilts her head, thinking, but is quickly distracted by the pot of lobelia on the table next to them.
They both intended to discuss more important things but her enthusiasm for the plants is too endearing to ignore.
Marinette is so animated and Damian watches her body language as much as he listens to her words. Her black hair is getting longer - soon it'll be too long for pigtails. As exhausted as she looks her appearance is still meticulous coordinated. Everything matches and compliments each other, from her earrings to her shoes.
As he studies her, she studies him as well. She has to wonder if he ever deviates from black or colors as deep as black. He still wears it well and while she can't see any labels the pieces are still high end.
It's only as they both feel the impulse to leave does Marinette try to circle back to something important. She fiddles with the strap of her purse before calling on her courage.
"I'd really like to have your number, Damian. I don't want to rely on the cafe to appear again." She starts to panic and goes pink in the face. It's a good few seconds before Damian replies.
"I think that is a wonderful idea."
They quickly type in their numbers.
Damian lets Marinette go through the door first and after it closes soundly he waits a moment before exiting the cafe.
Marinette is disappointed, but not surprised, that there are no new contacts in her phone. Magic is predictably unpredictable.
Damian is furious not see Marinette's number in his phone. He really hates magic.
Days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months without the appearance of the cafe. Damian has tried to search for Marinette without the use of the batcomputer. Tim has been obsessed with translating the cicada 3301 text and will only deviate for bat related investigations.
But at long last, four months later, Tim has been called away for Wayne Enterprises yearly budget meetings.
Damian begins his search and manages to find her social media accounts but they are all inactive. As of eight months ago she stopped updating. He tries to look up her school and her classmates but is abruptly cut off with error messages. At his loud curse he hears Alfred cough politely behind him.
The elder gentleman chooses not comment on Marinette's picture, large on the screen, but focuses on the errors and restrictions. They quickly find that most information on Paris is blocked or outdated.
Eventually the family is returning home one by one and they close the open tabs for dinner.
After this Damian approaches his father privately to bring up the issue and they return to it once everyone is in the cave.
Tim immediate ensconses himself at the computer and starts typing furiously only to get slightly more information than Damian did.
Bruce reaches out to Dianna and she cuts him off to say the situation is being handled but that they stay away from Paris.
No one takes this well.
*
At five months Marinette finds the cafe again but is disheartened that Damian never shows. She takes the time to observe the cafe and even goes so far to sketch some of the people. As she works she can't find any discerning pattern to the people or who they sit with.
Some move from one table to another but the movement seems natural, like the calm flow of a river. She can see the individuals who are not human but her mind does not fixate on that fact. Instead, it feels necessary that they are here - they help balance the cafe.
If the stories her grand-pére told her are true, then a lamia is seated at a table across the room. She's absolutely stunning but Marinette can see her duck-like feet. Her hair flows down in a glossy curtain and she stokes it gently with her golden comb.
Marinette cannot deny the need to sketch and draw inspiration from the environment. This is exactly what she needed. The serene ambiance allows her mind to think without overheating. It gives her permission to feel the hope of being close to finding Hawkmoth - and the permission to grieve what will be the dismantling of her miraculous team.
She is over joyed the next day to find her sketches are mostly intact - only a few are missing.
**
Ladybug was running for her life, or more accurately her secret identity. Battles have been running longer and the akumas have been more aggressive. She dodges into a dead end alley and and leans against the wall.
Taking big gulps of air as her transformation drops, Marinette is thankful for a purse full of cookies - poor Tikki is exhausted.
The wall drops away from her and she starts falling backwards. Letting out an indecent squeal she mentally prepared herself to fall flat on her butt.
Strong arms stop her descent and hold her up beneath her arms. Marinette tilts her head back to see who her savior is and finds a satisfied smirk on Damian's face.
He had been about to leave the cafe and when he pulled the door open Marinette fell into his arms.
She goes deeply red in the face and starts stuttering her thanks.
The last two years have been very kind to Damian, now 18. Gone is the awkwardness of adolescence and the insecurity of childhood. No, now he's even more confident, charming, and gorgeous. Marinette says goodbye to her heart in an instant.
For the first time, they order their drinks from the barista and then find a table. They always seem to gravitate to the same table. Not the same actual table - they sit at any table - but they move in the same direction at the same time.
Damian's presence feels like a balm to her weary soul. To do something so ordinary with someone like him is such a delight.
They've exchanged the traditional, but enjoyable, pleasantries - how is brothers and pets are, how her designing is going, and her friends. She's not as fortch coming with news about her friends.
He doesn't need to use any detective skills to see how tired she is. It's the exhaustion that looks bone deep and she's trying so hard to keep it from showing. Marinette is stunning regardless. Damian watches as she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and when she blushes he realizes he's been staring.
After a moment she averts her eyes and turns to her coffee - some atrocious concoction of sugar and espresso - but he doesn't look away. Damian would like to pursue a relationship with her, but there are more important things right now.
"Marinette, what's going on in Paris?"
Her shoulders visibly tense before she starts straightens. "Well, Hawkmoth has become more agressive but that's not really new. Oh! The Notre Dame reconstruction designs have finally been approved!"
Damian doesn't know which to adress first, none of those make sense. "The Notre Dame reconstruction?" So, not the most articulate question.
"Yes! It's nice to know it'll be returned to it's original design and not some of the contemporary redesigns."
"It needs to be reconstructed?" He is struggling for clarification but his question makes her shrink on herself.
"Yes" she says very sadly. "This is something Ladybug can't fix and I know a lot of people are disappointed in her. But they'll be able to start soon."
Looking at her now, Damian is torn between dropping the subject to cheer her up or pursuing his only real form of investigation. His hard learned skill of pushing away his feelings wins out in the end.
"Who is Ladybug?"
*
"Who is Ladybug?" Tim asks Damian - looking over his shoulder at the batcomputer.
*
"Who is Ladybug?" Batman questions Wonder Woman.
*
Sometimes she really has the best luck - the most wonderful luck in the world.
Marinette gently runs her fingertips over the handle of the cafe. It has been so long, so many years, since she was last here. Before she would have barreled straight inside.
There is no telling what or who she will find inside. But she'd learned all about hesitation and she gripped the handle tightly before pushing it open.
Everything still looks like she remembers. The plants, the lights, the chairs, and she's so happy to be here.
Her eyes well with tears. Sitting in her favorite loveseat, Marinette leans back and closes her eyes only to nearly fall out of it immediately.
"Hello, sweetheart." Damian leans over her to kiss her cheek. As is his way, he scoops her up and settles her sideways on his lap. She still hasn't said a word so he simples gets comfortable.
"Damian?" Her voice is shaky and she can't seem to say more.
"It's alright, love." He has swept her bangs out of her eyes, grey with age, and tucks the ends in behind her ear.
"So, it's over now." He nods to her empty earlobes. "I'm so proud of you - training a new Guardian all on your own."
At this she starts silently crying. "Dames, honey... I miss you so much. It's been so long." Marinette hides her face in his neck.
"But you're not alone, right?" He sounds so severe it makes her laugh, just a bit.
"Of course not. The kids know better." After a sniffle and watery smile she continues. "No, I'm not alone. But it's not the same. I'm 127."
Damian doesn't know what to say. They both knew she'd live longer and had planned the best they could. But sixty years is a long time. As she strokes his arm he chooses not to dwell on his guilt at having to leave her - of dying.
"It's not the same." He concedes.
"I'm so happy to see you. I love you so much."
"I love you too."
****
I'd really appreciate some feedback on this one. I won't post this to ao3 until I've fully edited it.
Hi guys! I wanted to share with you what I've been working on and hopefully get some feedback. This piece is Daminette with intentionally vague plot lines. The title is temporary.
I'm still working on this, so it won't be on ao3 yet.
And it's long enough to be in 2 or 3 posts.
Oh, and the ending is mushy and bittersweet!
**********
There are very few things in Alex's life that don't make sense. Being a holder of the rabbit miraculous she's grown to accept that there are things she cannot change, things she absolutely must change, and, ultimately, to make peace with the unknowable.
The cafe does not make sense. She has not made peace with this cursed anomaly.
Alex, Bunnyx, is currently pulling a reluctant Pegasus into the burrow. Intelligent boy that he is, he does not question the bowl when it's immediately dropped on his head and is only mildly put out when they exit into a dingy alley.
The air is cold and a slight drizzle patters down on the filthy pavement. As the rain pings off of the bowl on his head, Pegasus shuffles his feet - waiting for her to speak.
"Position the portal directly here." She says, pointing at the ground directly in front her - five feet from the busy street.
"And where does it need to go?" Pegasus asks as he tucks the bowl under his arm.
Bunnyx gives a shrug and makes a disgusted face. "Nowhere."
"I can't make a portal to nowhere."
"Fine. Anywhere."
He studies her for a moment. "So, it doesn't matter where it goes?"
"Exactly! Now chop chop, we only have a few seconds before they run in here."
Bunnyx steps aside and, as she opens her burrow in the exact place she instructed Pegasus to place his own, someone comes barreling into the alleyway.
The boy is about to collide with Pegasus and the hero panics when he sees what looks like a knife in his hands. He lifts his arms infront of himself and the bowl goes clattering to pavement.
He opens the portal, thoughts wildly galloping away from him. The boy goes through the portal and, as Pegasus drops his arms, it closes.
"What have I done?" Pegasus asks in a panicked whisper. He doesn't hear the bowl roll to a stop or the shouts that are quickly approaching their alley.
He stands there dumbfounded and doesn't register Bunnyx placing the bowl back on his head and wheeling him back into the burrow. He only startles when the echos of shouting are abruptly cut off.
"What the hell just happened? Where did I send him? Bunnyx I have no idea where he went!"
"Me neither!"
He sputters in shock at her apparent lack of concern. He's still gaping at her as she leaves him exactly where she found him.
The Parisian sun is bright and warm on the rooftop. Pegasus blinks numbly behind his glasses as Ladybug shakes him by his shoulders.
"-ght? Pegasus! What happened?"
"I have no idea."
*
There were two people following him and doing a very bad job at it. He had snuck out of the manor for some much needed personal space, only to catch the eye of some petty criminals.
As he picked up the pace he removed a dagger from his coat. He ducks into the nearest alley in hopes of losing them, or more prefferably, not stabbing them out in the open.
Rounding the corner at such a speed meant he had no time to completely dodge the man in the alleyway. He was prepared for a fight.
Instead of running headlong into the stranger and gutting him he found himself in an empty, open street.
Instead of standing in one of Gotham's many disgusting alleyways, he found himself in a clean and tasteful cobblestone street. It was late afternoon when he left the manor but now it was late at night.
The moon floats full and high in the sky and the stars remarkably bright with it. The buildings, though equally clean and tasteful, are all dark and empty - no signs of life.
He did a few turns in the middle of the lane before stopping dead in his tracks. The lights in one of the buildings had turned on, flooding the street with a gorgeous golden glow. As he approaches he could hear music and the indistinct hush of conversations.
Damian ventures into the cafe for the first time at age 12.
***
Fluff had explained it once, if explained is the right word. Whenever the miraculous were grossly misused the universe tried to correct it. Plagg's destruction was used to murder select individuals- in return the resurrection pits were created.
Whatever happened to Fluff had created the cafe.
And Alex hated it. She didn't know where or when it was and she wasn't allowed inside.
She doesn't care who the boy is. She only cares about the consequences of him never making it to the cafe. Heretic had thrown him off course and while his resurrection should have made things right, he still hadn't been to the cafe.
But he made it there now thanks to her 'careful calculations' and that should be enough.
****
The cafe is beautiful. The main room is rather large and has several small intimate tables along the walls, sectioned off with movable partitions. Some of them are surrounded by luxurious pillows and ottomans. Others are simply a pair of armchairs or even a single loveseat.
There are more small tables dotting the rest of the open area, each with their own mixture of dining chairs, wooden stools, and armchairs.
Some tables have clothes, some have flowers or candles, and others have nothing at all but each seem inviting and pleasant. Potted plants line shallow shelves or hang dangerously low over people's heads. Ivy trails along exposed ceiling beams and down the walls in small charming clusters. Flowers such as lantanas and petite bushes of laurustine are dotted throughout as well.
The lights are a plethora of hanging lamps - none of them the same. Over one table with two tall upholstered dining chairs hangs a delicate piece with wrought iron swirls and circles. A vintage Tiffany's poppy lamp hangs elegantly over two plush purple velvet loveseats. At one of the larger tables sways a modern paper chandelier. Each glows benevolently over those seated beneath them.
The people seated in the cafe are the real attraction. They blend in so seamlessly it's easy not to notice at first. But eventually people do notice. However, to be in the cafe makes a person just like the rest.
*
Damian has the decency to pocket his dagger before entering the cafe, but it's still within his grasp.
About half the tables inside are occupied and he's relieved when no on seems to notice his entrance. The light level is low enough that he should be uneasy but instead makes him feel calm and welcome - two things he's not accustomed to.
In one of the corners is an open table with two faux leather lounge chairs and a hanging lamp with colorful paper lanterns. He makes a beeline for it but pulls up short at the coffee bar.
It looks like any other cafe bar he's been in with Drake. There are two espresso machines, both Astorias, framed by grinders and blenders and syrup stands. The menu hangs directly above these, chalkboards filled with perfect handwritten items. Damian is not disappointed when a mug of hot chocolate appears on the counter in front of him.
With his prize in hand Damian deposits himself in one of the lounge chairs and prepares to observe the other patrons.
***
After the first visit to the cafe Damian spends much of his free time analyzing the experience.
He did not get a good look at the men following him or the people in the alley. He had found no clues to the location either. The next chance he got, Damian returned to the alley to comb it over. To his dismay he found absolutely nothing worthwhile.
This lack of information left him angrier than usual which only led to more fights with his adoptive brothers.
Damian would spend the next three years secretly obsessing over the cafe.
Alex had also spent those three years, figuratively speaking, obsessing over the cafe as well. This boy was the first and, so far, only person she had to personally ferry to the cafe. She had hopes that maybe she could follow him to it. Maybe this boy could be her beacon to finally uncovering this anomaly.
She had haunted his steps and had nothing to show for it. So, for at least one day, Alex forgoes following him in favor of pulling pranks on Kim - her favorite pastime.
Alex missed her chance that day.
*
It's things like this that makes Damian absolutely hate his brothers. He has grown to...tolerate them over the years - maybe even like them. But doing things together, when it's not crime fighting, is abysmal and torturous.
Everyone was supposed to meet outside the zoo in the early hours. Dick had hoped that getting there early would draw less attention but it would never be that easy.
Somewhere along the way they had lost Tim. So then they had split up and now Damian was going from one of Tim's haunts to another.
He forcefully pulls open a door on the next cafe only to stop dead in his tracks as the door closed behind him.
The cafe was just as he remembered it - perfect. As Damian approaches the coffee bar he's surprised to see a barista this time. Before he could order or even look at the menu, they place two mugs in front of him and shoo him away.
He is so shocked that he stands there dumbly, a mug in each hand, looking around the tables without really seeing them. Damian absently catalogued the occupants - who he had seen before, who he hadn't, and who they could possibly be. He sees her then, in one of the armchairs close to the door. She lookes as if she had stumbled in, sat down, and hasn't moved since.
Damian looks between her and the two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands - she surely needs a pick me up. He could place it on the table and walk away without her even noticing. The mug makes the barest click against the dark oak table before he starts walking away and then stops again.
She had placed her hand gently on his arm but then pulls it away abruptly at the scowl on his face.
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to thank you before you walked away. So. Thank you." Damian is surprised to hear French and even more so to hear sadness. Her brilliant blue eyes are rimmed with tears and her face is flushed.
She had reeled him in and before Damian knew it he was comforting one Marinette over hot chocolate.
**
It felt as if Marinette has just lived through the longest month of her life. Tikki said it would get better with time but she's starting to think that is just one of those things people say - one of those things Tikki says.
She can still see his electric blue eyes - she can still see his tears.
Marinette had shuffled into the nearest cafe after school and had not budged until someone approached her table. Now she's trying to thank this gorgeous stranger without bursting into tears. He sits down, despite his scowl, and they sit in silence for a bit.
They make halting conversation, both mildly pleased to find common ground with a stranger. Marinette lights up like the sun when she talks about designing and this is so much better than her tears, so Damian indulges her. She returns the favor when it comes to questions about his pets. The affection is clear in his voice and even if he doesn't smile, she does enough for the both of them.
Making Marinette laugh feels amazing, especially when the stories are at the expense of his brothers. He tells her about the weirdest places Tim has fallen asleep, about Dick performing gymnastics all over the house, and Jason starting arguments about which novel is the best by Jane Austen.
While she doesn't have siblings, Marinette has more than enough friends. She shares Alex and Kim's stupidest competitions, Mylene's nature and community endeavors, and everyone else's hopes and dreams.
This is a breath of fresh air for the both of them.
"So, what brings you to Paris?" She asks, only slightly giggling at his anecdotes about his brothers.
Damian isn't sure how to answer. He may not now where that cafe is but he's reasonably sure it's not 21st century Paris. He doesn't know her all that well and he's afraid to scare her - which surprises him.
"Marinette, do you see that man?" He asks instead, discreetly pointing to an individual a few tables away.
She's opens her mouth, about to say 'yeah, what about him?' then pauses. He's not much older than herself and wears a doublet with roughspun pants. His boots are just as care worn as the rest of his attire but the short sword at his side glimmers in it's scabbard. She want to write him off as a LARPer, especially with his Shakespearean English, but can't quite believe it.
Damian watches her face turn from passive interest to intense observation. He follows her eyes from person to person, believing he sees more than she does - but he's wrong. They catalogue each one, young and old, human and not quite human. When her gaze returns to Damian, intent on analyzing him, she finds him scrutinizing her.
Marinette already knows what makes her 'special' but she can't pin him down. There are people in the cafe who look just as normal as they do but there must be something. Sure he talks formally, he doesn't really smile, and she's pretty sure he has a knife of some sort hidden in his jacket front, but is that all?
"So, where are we Damian?"
"I don't really know, as much as it pains me to admit." And it must pain him with how angry he looks.
Just as they are beginning to exchange theories, Marinette's phone urgently chimes.
"Merde. I really have to go, Damian. I'll come back as soon as I can, promise!"
She's up in a flash and rushes out the door, but not before kissing him on the cheek. Damian tries to dash out the door and catch her but when he steps out it's only the weak Gotham sun that greets him.
*
Passed out underneath the batcomputer is where they found Tim, many hours later. It could technically be considered Jason's fault, it being his job to check the cave, but nothing is that straightforward with siblings.
Each one had retreated to their respective spaces, Cass and Duke were already long gone before then. Damian had barricaded himself in his room with Titus. As he stares up at his ceiling his mind is a jumbled mess. He scratched one of Titus's ears - why did the cafe appear again? He scratched the other ear - would he be able to go back? He stroked along the dog's neck and shoulders - would Marinette be there?
At this thought his hand stilled. What was she to him if he desperately wanted to see her again? At first, she was someone in the cafe that talked to him and was open. Then she was funny and smart and pretty. And she had kissed his cheek.
Assuming everyone in the cafe has a vital reason to be there, what is Marinette's reason?
Titus pushed his wet nose into Damian's elbow in complaint.
The only real thing to do was find the cafe again. He just hoped it wouldn't take another three years.
*
Marinette had returned to where she thought the cafe was. But looking up and down the street she could only see apartments and a small park on one corner. Of course an akuma would interrupt the one thing that had lifted her spirits.
Not for the last time, she lamented the fact that she had run off. But how was she to know that it would just disappear? Maybe she just had the wrong street.
Try as she might, over the next several patrol nights, Marinette could not find the cafe. She finally turned to interrogating Tikki, much good that it did her. The kwami talked mystically about the different types of magic and how there instances of kwami magic in the world.
So, not helpful.
*
For several days after the trip to the cafe Damian would get caught staring at his phone or, more frequently, at the batcomputer.
His first instinct is to search for Marinette. It would be so easy. How many Marinettes can there be in Paris? How many are his age and have dark hair and blue eyes? He has far better chances of finding than her finding him.
And this is where he would pause - does he want her to find him? Marinette is understanding and forgiving but would a friendship last when he would keep so many secrets? He's getting ahead of himself - he has to find her, and the cafe, first.
Damian has his fingers on the keys, above to type in her name and Paris, but then Dick walks in and asks what he's up to. Damian stomps out of the cave - he'll try again later.
*
In a huff, Marinette gets up from her computer. She didn't expect to find anything when all she has is his name and that he's American. But she had hoped that a little Ladybug luck would help. Tikki has the audacity to giggle at her and say it doesn't work that way.
Ladybug had brought up kwami magic with Chat Noir but when they met again he said Plagg told him to leave it alone. Plagg had proceeded to sulk in his cheese stash.
She had been stopped by Tikki when she went to ask the kwamis in the miracle box.
So, kwamis are sensitive to whatever bits of magic they've left in the world.
*
It's been 10 months and two days, not that they're counting, before Damian walks into the cafe again.
He had been in Metropolis with Jon when the super got both of them lost. And then they got separated. And then it started to rain heavily.
Now he stands just inside the door at the cafe, only slightly dripping water on the welcome mat. He had fled to the nearest covered area and found someone holding the door open for him.
Another person has gently bumped into him from behind, knocking him out of his stupor. He turns to frown at them and freezes.
Marinette stares at him with those heavenly blue eyes and breaks into a huge smile when she recognizes him.
"Damian!" She's hugging him like her life depends on it. When he doesn't reciprocate she pulls away. "I'm sorry! I'm just so happy to see you again!"
That much is apparent as she's bouncing on her feet and still smiling at him. This makes him smile back.
"Don't apologize. I'm pleased to see you as well." If she was sad the last time they met she looks utterly tired this time.
The surprise on her face is endearing when he pulls out a chair for her but she gratefully sits down. A barista brings their drinks, despite not ordering, and they tuck into the warm teas.
Now that they're here neither knows what to say. Marinette seems continent to stare at him dreamily and this proves to an apt conclusion.
"I was starting to think it was a dream - you, the cafe. I couldn't find anything at all."
