Alura would look at the small paper sack in her hand- it crinkled with ever my small movement and brush of the wind. Marian, the farm owner, had asked Alura to run it to the newcomer that had arrived a few weeks ago. Apparently, they had started tending to the fields and crops since her and her husband were getting older and the small brown bag was the others payment. Alura could smell the bread from within and could feel what she could only assume was compensation. It was a small ‘town’, if you could call it that, and word got around fast so of course she heard some rumors but never really paid them any mind.
Alura had been busy tending to the few children that ran around the area as well as picking herbs for when she was assisting in the infirmary. Over the past few years she had finally settled down in the area- tending to keep to herself but was pretty well known for the role she played. The others referred to her as “Ally” which was a nickname one of the children had given her since “Alura” was difficult for the younger kids to say.
Still, despite her warm atmosphere, she’d remain somewhat of a mystery to the others- not talking about her past much at all, not that anyone really asked giving the state of the world they lived in, but also being quick to turn others advances down. A true gem to those who needed someone gentle in their life or… someone to run errands for them since Alura rarely ever said no.
So here she was, bag in hand, and looking for someone she had never met nor knew what they looked like. Marian and her husband were always very kind though, so it’s not like she minded. Plus, it gave her an opportunity to introduce herself even if it was out of pure politeness and not because she actually wanted to.
She’d look out across the field- the slight breeze carrying hints of salt from the ocean. Dusk was beginning to set giving the landscape a orangey hue. She’d open the gate and walk through as she scanned the open area for anyone- no one. She’d bite her lip, hoping that she didn’t miss the other person before it got too dark but.. there was still sunlight. Perhaps the barn?
Her lips would part and she’d let out a small huff before heading in that direction. She figured if she didn’t find them, she could always deliver it tomorrow but it’d be easier to get this done as soon as possible so she didn’t disappoint Marian. Alura would see the old chipped door open and instantly perked up. With ease she’d slip between the frame and cracked door- over the last decade she had become rather thin so sliding between the frame and heavy door in silence was a breeze. The only noise was the faint rustle of the paper bag in her hand.
A smile would make its way to her lips upon seeing a tall figure with broad shoulders and black hair- fitting the description she had gotten. It would seem as though he was putting tools back he had been previously using- back towards her. The green eyed woman would come up beside him- keeping a safe distance between them since she didn’t want to startle him too much.
“Umm excuse me-“
As she got closer, her eyes would trail from his hands, up his arms, to his shoulders, and then landing on his face where she’d then freeze in her tracks. Breath would hitch and her whole body would tense- her round eyes would meet those that looked all too familiar. Her bottom lip quiver as if she was about to cry but there was no anger present in her surprise. No, she looked painfully relieved.
Day 2 of Nonsense November! Today's prompt is a string of emojis I can't replicate because they're from the server 😅 find it on the original post!
@maribat-calendar-events
Link to AO3
Damian stared moodily around the waiting room as he got ready to start his shift, trying to clear his mind and push down his disappointment. The last time he had been here, well over a week ago, was the last time he had seen Marinette after his run in with the Joker. And it wasn’t that he had expected to be seeing a lot more of her, when his family were insisting on keeping him coddled in the manor, but…well, he had hoped he would get the chance to take her to that meal he had offered her.
“Ah, Wayne, good to have you back,” Dr Jones said warmly, coming over and nodding to him as she released a patient. “I hope you brought your A game, it looks like one of the rogues attacked a homeless shelter and we’re expecting people to be brought in any minute.”
“Which rogue?” he asked, hurrying to clock in. She gave him a run down of Two Face’s latest insanity and he sighed as he prepared to assist as many people as possible. The homeless shelter closest to where they were was well known for being efficient and kind, often supported by the Waynes and that meant that there were always volunteers too.
The most urgent patients took hours to see through, an endless stream of people coming through the doors and leaving Damian exhausted as he helped each of those that came in front of him. And the incoming stream didn’t seem to end, the fight with Two Face not yet having ended. It was only when the tide of people seemed to be stemming that he recognised one of the people being brought into the emergency room.
“Marinette!” he exclaimed, unable to help himself as he rushed over to the gurney that was being dragged along, his hands automatically reaching for the clipboard that held her information. His eyes tore away from her for just long enough to see that she had a bullet lodged in her thigh and swore softly under his breath as he walked alongside her. “What were you doing at the shelter?”
“Believe it or not, I was volunteering,” she said, mouth twitching with a smile until her leg got jostled and she hissed out her breath from the pain. His hand came to rest on her arm as she was rushed to an operating room to have it removed, and he was left outside, feeling slightly lost and very out of sorts.
Not even an hour later, Damian was found pacing outside Marinette's room by his father and brother. He was technically on a short break as he tried to figure out what to say to her regarding her injury, but he had yet to think of something that didn't sound like a reprimand or condescension.
“Damian, I'm surprised to see you just roaming the halls,” his father said, glancing at the door that led to Marinette's room. “How has your shift been so far?”
“Forget that, what are you doing just hovering outside Mari’s room?” Tim frowned, watching him suspiciously. “Wait, you’re not-”
“Tt, don’t be ridiculous, Drake,” he sneered, ignoring the heat rising up his neck. He refused to allow Tim to be the one to correctly guess why he was in such an absurd position. But it appeared that he did not get to decide that, because the wicked grin that took over his brother’s face was nothing short of nightmarish. “What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you both be working on the issue from earlier this evening?”
“We were notified of her status as a patient as she does not currently have a next of kin in the states,” Bruce said, resting a hand on the door handle. Then he took a bracing breath and knocked on the door, just loudly enough to be heard if she was awake but quiet enough that she would be unlikely to stir if she was sleeping. When she called out permitting entry, Damian refused to be left outside of the room, pushing in front of Tim to get there first. “Good evening, Marinette, I hope we aren’t intruding.”
“Not-” she yawned, her eyes slightly unfocused, and Damian assumed she was heavily medicated thanks to the bullet wound, “-at all. But why are you all here?”
“Well, Bruce and I came to see how you were doing,” Tim said, coming forward to sit next to the bed. “Damian is supposed to be working, but we found him pacing outside.”
“You didn’t have to check on me,” she said, eyes going wide, and Damian scoffed. That made the bright blue eyes turn on him, head tilting slightly and guilt easy to read in them. “No, really, I’m fine. A little tired, but they stitched me up and I should really go home…”
“No,” Damian said, eyes narrowing. “You were shot, Marinette, and should take the appropriate time to rest and heal.”
“Ha, like you did?” she retorted, an adorable snort preceding it. “I would have thought you would stop underestimating me, Monsieur Wayne, after all that happened last time.”
“That-” Damian began, only to break off when he remembered they were not alone. Tim was grinning broadly at the exchange, and Damian wouldn’t put it past him to be recording it given the way he was eyeing the pair. “It is not about underestimating you. I merely do not wish you to hurt yourself when it is entirely preventable.”
“Marinette, you don’t have anyone waiting for you in your apartment, unless something has changed in the past twenty-four hours?” Bruce interjected gently. The pout on her face confirmed that he was right and he continued, unbothered. “Then staying in the hospital is the responsible thing to do. Besides, Damian is still on shift for a few more hours, you wouldn’t want to distract him by not being where he could check on you.”
Damian wished he hadn’t been caught outside her room, if even his father was going to tease him about it. Luckily, Marinette was too out of it to pick up the teasing tone, or the awful smile on Tim’s face, so Damian decided he would wait to enact his revenge on the pair.
_ _ _
Marinette hated being in the hospital, especially when there was essentially no difference in being here instead of her own, more comfortable, bed. Even worse, the pain medication was wearing off and she had no desire to ask for more, even if she did hate the way it felt like her leg was on fire. The sooner she was more lucid, the sooner she could request her release. The same doctor that had looked after Damian after the Joker incident was in charge of her own wellbeing, and she got the feeling that she was more than looking forward to being rid of Marinette.
Speak of the devil…Marinette glanced up hopefully as the door opened again, admitting the doctor and what must be another resident. Perhaps that meant that Damian was already finished for the day and, without his insistence that she remain in the hospital, she would be allowed to leave. And sure enough, Doctor Jones began her spiel for discharging Marinette immediately, much to the young woman’s delight.
“I must remind you that if your symptoms worsen, you will need to return as soon as possible,” the doctor said, though she didn’t sound very serious. “But as long as you take care of the wound as directed you should be fine. Fingers crossed, you won’t need to visit again anytime soon.”
Nodding before standing up and beginning the long, arduous hobble to the exit, Marinette hoped there would be a free taxi available to take her back to her apartment. No sooner had she arrived at the reception than she found that someone was waiting for her - and felt her face burst into flames as she considered the fact that he was probably going to insist on seeing her home.
“You were successfully discharged, I take it?” Damian asked smoothly, offering her his arm to help support her as they made their way outside. She accepted automatically and then wanted to shriek at herself for being so informal around her boss’s son. It was one thing for her to jump feet first into a situation and pull him out of direct danger; it was another for her to practically cuddle with him so that she could walk in a straight line. “Perhaps I can assist you for today. I requested that my father leave a car here so I could see you at least to your apartment, though I would prefer that you not be alone whilst so badly injured.”
“I’m fine, Monsieur-” she began, faintly exasperated at how much he was trying to coddle her, but he shot her such a cross look that she faltered and stumbled slightly.
“My name is Damian, Marinette, as I’ve told you countless times before,” he chided, keeping her upright with an absurd amount of ease. The walk to the car was shorter than she would have thought, and she was relieved when he helped her slide gracefully into the passenger seat. In spite of her protests, she really did need help moving and he seemed to anticipate where she would need the help. “Do you have food available at home, or shall we collect something on our way?”
“I have some pastries,” she sighed, closing her eyes as he started the car and moved smoothly away from the car park. “And maybe some fruit. I just want to go home…”
“Alright, I shall take you home,” he said softly, the quiet rumble of the car turning into a delightfully pleasant white noise that resulted in her nodding off until the car pulled to a stop. “Marinette, we are here.”
“Mmf, ’kay,” she whispered, rubbing her eyes and sitting up straighter. The thought of climbing four flights of stairs to reach her apartment sounded harrowing, but the elevator was still broken from the last time something had hit the building. “Thanks for seeing me home, Mon- um, Damian.”
“It is no bother,” he said, unfastening his belt and coming around to her side of the car before she could so much as blink. Hesitantly, she accepted his outstretched hand and let him pull her to standing, unable to contain the wince that came when her weight swayed over her injured leg. “Here, you are on the fifth floor, correct? And I believe you mentioned that the elevator is broken.”
“Yeah, but-” she started to say, but broke off into a squeak as her feet were swept from under her and her hands clung to his shirt as he cradled her to his chest. “D-Damian! You can’t just- I’m- I can manage fine!”
“Of the two of us, only one is close to being a fully trained medical professional, and I disagree with your assessment,” he said firmly, carefully maneuvering her through doors and up the stairs until they were standing outside her apartment door. It had taken so little time, and he wasn’t even breathing hard, and Marinette thought she might have turned into a puddle. “Are you able to retrieve your keys or shall I assist you?”
“No!” she shrieked, flushing bright red and almost dropping to the floor as she tried to get the keys out of her pocket. Thankfully he set her carefully on her feet and waited to see if she needed any further help, though he stood closer than he normally would. By the time she had the keys in the door, she was shaking slightly from the effort of being standing, but she opened it nonetheless. “Okay, I should have it from here. Thank you, Damian, I don’t know what I would have done without you here.”
“Yes, well I imagine that you would still be waiting for transport home,” he mused, taking hold of her elbow gently and steering her inside. The mess of her living space made her blush again, but then a sharp pain went through her and she stumbled into him, gasping from the effort. And still, he stayed steady, hands keeping her upright even as he helped lessen the strain on her. “Careful, you will not be able to move as usual for some time to come.”
“Sorry,” she gasped, clinging to his arm as she rested her head against his chest, trying valiantly to lock the pain away in a box to be dealt with never. When he swept her up into his arms again she almost wept with relief at the sudden reduction in pain, her eyes burning as she took deep breaths. “I-if you just p-put me in bed, I c-can take it from there-”
“You can hardly move without worsening your condition,” he said reprovingly, his voice hardly more than a murmur. “Allow me to help, Marinette. Please.”
By the time Damian had carried her through to her room, she had fallen asleep. He sighed and settled her into her bed, smoothing her hair out of her face and wondering if he was overstepping a boundary. It was difficult for him to see her in pain and not want to ease it in whatever way he could, but he was aware that he had not asked to enter her home. He had not given her any choice in the matter, and it was hardly as though she was in a decent position to assert her own will.
Leaving her bedroom door open, he settled down on her living room sofa. Without being able to say goodbye, he decided he would wait for her to wake and get some rest himself.
_ _ _
When Marinette eventually woke again, the room was completely dark and her leg felt hot and swollen. Tikki was nowhere in sight, which was unusual when Marinette wasn’t feeling her best, but she decided she would have to look for the kwami later. For now, she had to work out how to get herself a glass of water because her throat was bone dry and her stomach growling for food.
Before she could sit up fully a light turned on in the living room and she squinted against it, cursing when she tensed involuntarily. And then her eyes were going completely wide as she took in the form of Damian Wayne standing in her doorway, looking at her with concern etched into his face.
“You’re awake,” he said, hovering in the doorway. “I have no doubt you need something to eat, but would you like me to assist you to your bathroom first?”
“Water, please,” she croaked, feeling pathetic. But he didn’t comment on it, merely nodding before vanishing into her kitchen area and coming back with a full glass. She drained it faster than she would have believed possible, pouting a little when it emptied and she still didn’t feel fully sated. “Thank you.”
“I shall retrieve you a second glass after I help you to the bathroom,” he said, holding his arm out for her to take and leverage herself out of bed. If he had been anything other than polite and clinical, she might have been embarrassed by how helpless she felt. But instead, she couldn’t help but find it extremely attractive, the way he moved her with surety and a gentle touch.
When she was finished in the bathroom, he moved her to the sofa, settling her with a fresh glass of water and a bowl of fruit from her refrigerator. She wasn’t hungry, but the look he gave her when she picked at the food made her take a full mouthful and force it down nonetheless. Silence settled between them as she made her way through the fruit and closed her eyes again when she was done.
“I would have peeled you an orange but I could not find any in your kitchen,” he mused as he carried the bowl through for her.
“Mm, I don’t like them,” she said with a wrinkle in her nose, thinking of the last time she had tried one to say she had given it a go. The texture was the worst part of it, but the inconsistency in taste was a close second. “Besides, there are other, better fruits, both to eat and to bake with.”
“I did not presume you to be a picky eater,” he replied, kneeling next to her and placing his hands on her ankle. “May I check your bandages and wound? I do not want it to become infected, or for any further complications to prevent you from healing as quickly as possible.”
Nodding and blushing as he pushed her lounge pants out of the way, she tried to ignore the callouses on his hands brushing against the sensitive skin on her legs. The room felt quiet and intimate as he unwound the bandage, and Marinette wasn’t one hundred percent sure she was breathing. It was ridiculous; she’d been on the receiving end of medical treatment dozens of times before, and never once had her thoughts run away with themselves so much.
“It looks to be in good shape so far,” he muttered, a finger tracing the outer edge of the wound and making her shiver involuntarily. The movement made him look up at her from where he was, his eyes in shadow and yet still glittering somehow. Swallowing hard, she managed to look back to her own leg and mumble something incoherent. His voice was deeper as he asked, “Are you alright?”
“Fine!” she squeaked, toying with the ends of her lounge pants now that the wound was rebandaged. “Um, I just- you’re- it’s really kind of you to check me out- check out my bullet wound! I meant- I mean- oh, mon dieu, tuez-moi maintenant.”
“It would be a shame to kill you when I have spent so much of today trying to ensure you survive,” he said, a smirk on his lips as he leaned towards her. His hands were braced on either side of her hips and he was careful not to jostle her leg as he entered her space. It was impossible to look anywhere but at him, his eyes almost hypnotic as they drew her in and held her there. “I did not think you were so easily flustered, Marinette.”
“Then you really don’t know me all that well,” she whispered back, her traitorous eyes flicking to his lips every other second. How had she never noticed just how kissable they were? It was a crime.
“A travesty I plan to correct, if you are willing,” he murmured as he closed the distance between them, his mouth stopping an inch away from her own and waiting patiently for her to decide if she wanted to kiss him.
Instead of answering him, she leaned forward and pressed their lips together.
