Morning After
Morning light filtered through the tall windows of Titans Tower, pale gold cutting across the sheets and climbing the walls inch by inch. Damian Wayne was already awake.
He lay still, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting loosely at his side, staring up at the ceiling as the quiet rhythm of breathing beside him anchored his thoughts. Raven had shifted sometime during the night, turning slightly away from him, her back warm against his chest, her dark hair spilled across the pillow like ink. For once, his mind wasn't racing through contingency plans, weapon schematics, or worst-case scenarios.
It was… peaceful.
Too peaceful to waste.
Damian glanced down at her and smirked faintly.
"It's time," he murmured.
Raven groaned, pulling the blanket higher over her shoulder. "Five minutes."
"You said that yesterday," he replied.
"That was yesterday."
He leaned closer. "If you don't get up, I'll kiss you until you do."
Silence.
Damian raised an eyebrow, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. No reaction. Another to her cheek. Still nothing. He counted silently as he continued—slow, unhurried kisses tracing from her cheekbone to the corner of her mouth, then back again.
By the sixteenth kiss, Raven's hand shot up, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him down.
She kissed him hard.
It wasn't playful anymore—it was deliberate, deep, and confident, her fingers curling into his collar as she pulled him closer. Damian stiffened in surprise for half a heartbeat before relaxing into it, one hand sliding instinctively to her waist. For a full minute, the world narrowed to warmth, breath, and the faint hum of the Tower around them.
Then Raven broke the kiss, just barely out of reach, violet eyes half-lidded.
"I'm awake now," she said calmly.
She slipped from the bed before he could respond, gathering a towel as she walked toward the bathroom with infuriating composure.
Damian stared after her.
"…I will get you back for that," he muttered.
The bathroom door shut, and the sound of running water followed.
Damian exhaled slowly and flopped back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling again—this time with a faintly stunned expression. After a moment, he reached for his phone on the nightstand.
Habit kicked in.
He scanned headlines first—nothing overt. No mention of Fire Shadow. No leaks about his personal dimension. Good. Then he switched to channels most people didn't know existed: underground message boards, encrypted networks, whispered rumor hubs where information traveled faster than truth.
One name appeared again and again.
OVERCLOCK.
Damian's eyes narrowed.
A leaked audio transcript was circulating—distorted but recognizable. Dr. Emil Hamilton's voice, strained and bitter, explaining to an unseen audience that the project had never been stable. That it had never been safe.
Amanda Waller had known.
According to the leaks, OVERCLOCK had been an attempt to replicate the technology Batman used against Solomon Grundy—specifically the neural acceleration and time-perception manipulation. A "human-compatible combat overdrive," designed for soldiers. Hamilton stated plainly that the prototype overloaded neural pathways, caused catastrophic feedback, and would kill any test subject within minutes.
The most damning detail followed.
The dead soldier hadn't just been another volunteer.
He had been the future son-in-law of the Secretary of Defense.
Damian scrolled, jaw tightening.
The fallout had been immediate. The Secretary of Defense had demanded answers. The President—caught off guard and furious—had ordered the project shut down pending investigation. General Sam Lane and Rick Flag Sr. were named as the only officials who had raised concerns beforehand. Waller, as expected, had shifted blame to "rogue scientists" and operational pressure.
Publicly, OVERCLOCK was dead.
Privately?
Damian knew better.
You didn't dig that deep without consequences. You didn't chase Batman's shadow without burning something.
The shower shut off.
Damian locked his phone and set it aside just as Raven stepped back into the room, a towel wrapped around her, hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. She glanced at him, eyes narrowing slightly.
"You're thinking too loud," she said.
"Bad habit," he replied.
She smirked faintly and moved toward the dresser. "Breakfast. If we don't hurry, Beast Boy will eat everything."
That was motivation enough.
The Tower cafeteria buzzed with its usual controlled chaos.
Beast Boy already had three plates stacked in front of him. Blue Beetle was mid-argument with Cyborg about engine calibration. Starfire hovered cheerfully near the counter, helping herself to something neon and steaming. Nightwing leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward the door every few seconds like he was waiting for something to go wrong.
Then Damian and Raven walked in together.
The room stilled—just for a fraction of a second.
Nightwing blinked. Cyborg's HUD pinged. Beast Boy froze mid-bite.
Raven didn't look bothered in the slightest.
Damian felt her fingers brush his wrist as they walked, subtle but deliberate, and ignored the sudden attention as he grabbed a tray. They sat together without ceremony, Raven close enough that their shoulders touched.
Beast Boy leaned across the table. "So. Hypothetically. If two teammates disappear for a week and come back… calmer… is that, like, a thing now?"
Raven sipped her tea. "Eat your food."
Nightwing cleared his throat. "Damian."
"Yes?"
"…You're back on schedule."
"I said I'd be back in a week," Damian replied evenly. "I was."
Nightwing sighed in visible relief, then immediately frowned. "I still had to call Bruce."
Raven raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"He said Damian being safe was all that mattered," Nightwing said. Then, more quietly, "And that he hasn't forgotten about me."
Cyborg winced. "Oof."
Damian smirked faintly.
Breakfast continued with relative normalcy after that—until Damian felt it.
A familiar pressure behind his eyes. A quiet, precise sensation he never reacted to outwardly.
[System Interface Active]
He kept his expression neutral.
[New Objective Assigned]
Condition: Complete at least five active missions alongside the Teen Titans.
Purpose: Improve operational teamwork and trust metrics.
[Reward Pending Completion]
Damian read the reward description once—and froze.
Jewel Meat.
From a world he remembered only faintly now, like a dream fading at the edges. Legendary food. Impossible strength. Something he had once thought existed only in fiction.
His heart beat faster—but his face remained impassive.
No one noticed.
No one ever would.
He dismissed the interface without a flicker of emotion and focused on Raven beside him, on the quiet weight of her presence, the calm she brought without effort.
Five missions.
He could do that.
After all—this wasn't about power.
It was about staying ahead.
And whatever demons—human or otherwise—were coming next, Damian Wayne intended to be ready.