I finally feel well enough to write again. Naturally, I spent much of time going back to things I used to love. Including classic films.
So, here's a daminette rear window retelling. Because Marinette could totally be Grace Kelly.
This is still very much in need of editing and fleshing out.
PART 1
Summer in Gotham had never been so hot and miserable as the current heat wave gracing the city. The last few weeks would've been agonizing enough without the sweltering temperatures, but life was downright deplorable.
Curtains parted, windows opened, and from his seat at his own open window, Damian watched his neighbors begin their day. The tall apartment buildings boxed in a tiered community garden for one of the buildings. Because of this, and the heat, he could see into almost every one of his neighbors' apartments. When he first started renting the space, it was a detriment to his privacy. But now, after 6 weeks in a wheelchair with a shattered leg, it was a source of entertainment to a bored, caged vigilante.
Top to bottom, left to right, the morning hour begins. In the building directly across from his lives Miss Torso. Miss Torso is a young ballet dancer with a revolving door of suitors. She appears to spend all day practicing and all night partying. Below her lives a middle-aged amateur sculptor. The sculptor seemed happy enough at first but eventually it's obvious she's a lonely busy body. Next to Miss Torso lives a very average middle-class married couple. They seem to be just as miserable as they are happy. They have a little dog that is trained to ride a picnic basket up and down from the balcony. Below them is another married couple. He's some door to door salesman and she's an invalid. But they seem just as miserable and content as the couple above them. The occupant of the bottom floor, however, is decidedly not happy. Miss Lonely Heart is Grayson's biggest argument against Damian's romantic apathy.
In the building to his right he can only see the occupant of the top penthouse. The windows of the main room or floor length and wall to wall. The young man appears to be a composer - the piano his constant companion. Like a lover. Damian stops the thought abruptly as the phone rings.
It's his current 'boss' and editor of Life magazine. The man tries to offer him congratulations on the removal of his cast. Damian pats the cast morosly.
"The cast stays on another week." Asshole.
Gunnerson sounds completely put out. His best photographer and the biggest assignment of the year. An uprising somewhere or something. The editor doesn't bother actually telling him and Damian tries a different tactic. Desperation, and he's not proud of it. If his family won't release him from this hell maybe his editor will.
"If you don't get me out of this godforsaken apartment I'll do something drastic. Like get married. Then I'll never be able to go anywhere. "
Gunnerson has the gaul to laugh and try to convince him it'd be good for him. That Damian is getting old or something. Asshole. 28 isn't old. Forget it.
"Call back when you have actually good news."
He goes back to watching his neighbors.
The man gardening, the women on the top floor sunbathing, the composure watching Miss Torso as she practices.
****
It started out reasonably enough, like many things do. Being benched on medical grounds and forced to stay at the mansion seemed inevitable. So did the successive stabbings. After a tumultuous five days a surly Damian was allowed to wait out the remainder of his seven weeks at his own apartment. To no one's surprise he did not have many visitors. Most of his siblings stayed away, except for Grayson, who stopped by every few days.
Speaking of Grayson, he comes barging in, ready to berate Damian for having the windows open.
"Don't start, Grayson. It's bad enough you have a key but you don't get to tell me what to do."
"Well, Damian, there's no windows in the workhouse. You know? Where you go for being a Peeping Tom. One day those bathing beauties are going to see you and then it's over." Not to mention the real trouble he could get into for being a Wayne ripe for the pickings from any rogue.
"Like the Wayne PR team would let it go anywhere." He's deflecting. The blush is hard to see but Damian can't tell him he's not actually watching his neighbors for their...assets. All the miserable people out his window. He sees it all. And he'd welcome a fight, even from his wheelchair.
"Regardless, you're just looking for trouble."
"I don't need to look for it. It's already here." He watches Grayson study him before going sighing.
"Dupain-Cheng."
"I know you're don't actually call her that anymore. And what kind of trouble could Marinette possibly cause?"
He must really be feeling the boredom because he answers with the truth. "She expects me to marry her."
Grayson, for once, has the good grace not to gush but he does get a sappy look on his face.
"What's wrong with that?"
"I don't want to." The sigh that leaves Grayson ends on a groan.
"Any man or woman with half a brain would marry Marinette. She's the complete package, brother. Smart, driven, beautiful, and charismatic. Plus sh-"
"She's alright." Damian cuts him off before continuing. " She's too perfect."
"Is that really all?"
Damian knows Grayson sees what he really means. Their family is too secretive and strange for any normal person. Not that Marinetter is normal. She everything his brother said and more. But Damian has spent the last half of his life healing from the first half. Marinette hasn't had to heal from anything. She's perfect sunshine, a diamond never dulled or blemished.
"It doesn't have to be that complicated, baby bird." Grayson says it firmly but quietly.
When Damian doesn't say anything they both resort to looking out his windows. Eventually they both turn away from the newlyweds who've entered they're new apartment.
****
The temperature is finally falling as the sun sets and Damian manages to rest. It's not a deep sleep but it's enough for his mind to wander and start dreaming. It's Marinette, of course. He frequently dreams of her. Damian hears the door open.
Speak of the devil and she will appear. In Vivienne Westwood, Dior, Louis Vuitton, and MDC. Pantsuits, hoop skirts, scoop necks, heels, strappy sandals, and every other piece of clothing imaginable. Don't even get him started on the jewelry. She always looked impeccable and refined and out of reach.
At first all these things made him believe she was a vapid social climber. She never wears the same dress twice and always looks like she just came from the runway. But all that blew away in a breeze when she gushed about his photography and not his family name. She has enough success on her own and she doesn't give two shits about his name. Their relationship started as appreciation for each others art and work ethic. And now it's...well he doesn't quite know what it is now. Romantic, sure. But it can't be serious, not when he's flipping off Red Hood for doing a nightly check in from the opposite roof.
And definitely not when his photography started as an undercover job.
All that to say, she is a perfect vision in the latest dress, a perfect saint for bringing take away from his favorite restaurant, and a perfect partner when she pauses to gauge his reaction before kissing him soundly. He will not be marrying Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
**
Marinette will marry Damian Wayne. She just has to help him see it. There is some wall that he hides behind, some place he retreats to that she won't force her way into. She has her own secrets and she's not scared of his. But he stands firmly behind some belief or decision and she has yet to sway him. Marinette is not afraid of hard work or finding creative solutions, though. Ladybug isn't afraid.
****