Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

first grade; fall

Damian Desmond had noticed something different about Anya Forger the second he had first laid eyes on her.

What’s with this girl?

Maybe it was because she had the craziest hair he had ever seen. Or the smallest legs he had ever noticed on someone his own age. Or the greenest and most sparkly eyes he had ever stared into.

Or maybe it was because she was looking at him in a way no one else had ever dared to.

He had never felt as studied as he did that morning, under this stranger’s firm gaze. For some reason, he felt a target on his chest. And Forger, with a surname he had yet to hear about, was aiming an arrow straight at it. With professional accuracy, too.

It was as if she was begging for his attention. And Damian couldn’t, for the life of him, look at anywhere else except for her.

Oh, I see, Damian finally realized the girl’s motivation. Of course. She’s already realized how amazing I am and fallen for me.

Well, he supposed she could be worth his time. She looked acceptable enough for the part, at least. Besides, she had shown extremely good taste, he’d give her that.

Almost as if on cue, the pink-haired girl sharply averted her gaze and moved towards the end of the class line. As if ignoring him. Like they hadn’t just had a moment.

Oh, so she was playing hard to get.

Cute.

Damian didn’t know what hit him.

Both metaphorically and physically.

He had to approach her somehow. The need to do so was crawling all over his body. Like an itch he desperately needed to scratch.

Damian watched intensely as Anya struggled, yet again, with simple mathematical formulas.

On the flip side, however, Damian had his pride to maintain. He was a Desmond, after all. And no Desmond would stoop themselves as low as he was about to at that very moment.

He decided to speak up after careful consideration and a few internal monologues.

“D- Do you need some help with that?”

Nice. Real smooth.

On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t have done this.

Anya stared at him as if he had grown two heads. Her head tilted to the side in an adorable a dazed state. Her hand was trembling, for some reason. Huge, green eyes glaring holes into his own. Slowly, cautiously, she nodded.

It was, by far the cutest scene he had ever witnessed in his entire, albeit, short life.

To ease her fear and against his better judgement, Damian took the chair right next to her and pointed at the formulas she was writing wrong.

Her whole spreadsheet was weird. I mean, she had the right answers somehow but couldn’t explain how she had gotten there in the first place. As if someone had whispered the right results to her from above.

Damian tried to explain the formulas to her as best he could. Spending more than 10 minutes in a single, theoretically simple equation.

“So, if ‘x = (2 + 3)/5’, and we know ‘2 + 3 = 5’, then?”

Anya simply smiled at him and shrugged. He had a suspicion that none of his explanation had registered in her brain. He should be mad at her. How dare she not pay attention to Damian Desmond, when he was out here, wasting his precious time on a commoner like her?

And yet… for some unexplainable reason… he was not mad. At all.

Anya, with her tongue out in concentration, added an ‘:’ to the equation, forming a smiley face around the mathematical formula. Beaming at him as she did so, not uttering a single word.

A clunky, red ‘:)’ started back at him and he blinked.

The whole ordeal made his face feel hot. N-not because he thought it was cute or anything like that. Obviously not.

“Ugh, you’re incorrigible!”

Yeah. Why was he out here helping a commoner like her anyways?

Damian started to lift from his seat. He should be studying for himself. Should be working on earning another Stella. Should be-

“Wait, come back, Sy-on!” Anya cried out, tugging at his uniform’s sleeve.

Damian immediately sat back down with a sigh.

She didn’t even need to ask twice.

Damian had since noticed that his body would, every now and then, move against his will.

And most times it had something to do with Anya Forger.

So, when they were both hiding from a raging thunderstorm inside a tiny cave and there was no one there to witness it… he took her hand in his. Involuntarily of course.

He shouldn’t be holding her hand like this. It was most improper! For a multitude of reasons! But his muscles simply wouldn’t obey his brain’s order to retrieve.

Just as involuntarily, his cheeks lit up in reddish hues.

There were older kids picking at a lonely Anya during lunch.

Trying to mess up her hair and pointing at her… horns. (What were those supposed to be, anyways?)

Either way he had to stop it. His tiny fists curled up at his sides. Where was Blackbell at a time like this?

Without thinking he called out, “hey!” as he approached in increasing speed.

”What do you think you’re doing?!” Damian nearly screamed.

The three kids locked their attention on him immediately.

Damian barely registered his two friends, Ewen and Emile, nervously catching up. He was too focused on Anya’s face, who appeared to be holding back a cry. The sight made his blood boil.

How dare they? How dare they?!

”What?” One of the third graders chuckled, “are you going to defend this ugly ass nobody?”

”Yeah, I heard she’s so dumb she got a bolt on her first day!” The taller one exclaimed.

“Oh man, did you know she almost didn’t even get in? She was on the wait list!” The last, uglier one, chimed in.

“Shut up all of you,” exclaimed Damian. His chest was fulled up with rage.

“Aren’t you a Desmond? Come on, dude. Have a laugh with us.”

The tallest kid towered over him easily. Damian gulped. He couldn’t afford to get into fights. The Tonitrus bolt could ruin his chances at becoming an scholar by next year.

”I said shut up,” his voice was trembling despite his best efforts. “Or I’ll report all of you.”

They might all be older and taller than him, but they weren’t gods. They all had to answer to someone.

”Geez, that one’s just like his brother.”

”Whatever,” said the tallest one again. “That girl’s not worth the trouble.” 

Oh, he was going to show them trouble. Damian was about to move towards the principal’s office, still seeing red, when he felt a pressure holding at his sleeve.

Anya.

She was smiling through her puffy eyes. That made Damian stop on his tracks.

”Thank you, Sy-on boy. You really are nice!”

He was fully aware that he should be saying something, yet he was too stunned to speak.

”Well, sometimes,” Anya added with a thinking expression.

After a couple of minutes, Damian was finally able to break out of his daze. However, by that time, Anya had already found Blackbell all the way across the cafeteria, leaving him to his own friends.

”Wow, Lord Damian! You looked so cool!”

”Yeah, Lord Damian is so righteous, he’d even defend Stubby-Legs!”

”Y-yeah,” Damian agreed, only halfheartedly. Anya’s smile still replaying on a loop in his mind. “Only I can insult Forger like that.”

Chapter Text

third grade; winter

Damian Desmond was afraid that Anya Forger had poisoned him.

His body had been showing all the signs of it too. And they had been getting much more intense lately. They showed up almost every time she would catch him staring at her.

After two years of knowing her, Damian was practically convinced that she was a spy. Sent in by a rival political party, who was slowly poisoning him in small, daily doses. This coul've been going on for months. Or maybe even years! All in order to kill him without leaving a noticeable trace. A sort of genius plan though, he had to give her that. Almost as good as a top tier Spy Wars villain’s.

However, he was determined to spoil her plans.

With “Harrison’s Principles of Internal Medicine” in hand, a highlighter, a notebook and a pen, Damian got to work. He opened the book at its index and then flipped through until he got to page 2733.

“Poisoning and Drug Overdose”

Today was the day he would unmask Anya Forger.

REASONS WHY FORGER IS A SPY AND HAS MOST DEFINITELY POISONED ME:

1) Tachycardia, or rapid heartbeat

It was simply an objectual fact that his heart would beat faster and faster, as if desperately trying to keep him alive. Clearly his own body was responding to something!

2) Stomach pain

Very frequently, Damian’s belly would not exactly hurt, but more like… flutter? Like there were butterflies stuck inside it. Annoying as hell, though. So it should fit.

3) Restlessness, fidgeting or violent behavior

I mean, something just happened to his brain whenever Forger would talk to him that made him involuntarily pick just the meanest things to say to her. As if he had no control over his own mouth or posture. And she definitely, definitely was the reason why he felt so restless when sitting next to her. His leg would just keep bouncing nonstop, against his will.

4) Sweating

Also, his palms would always sweat whenever Forger stood next to him. One time, she held his hand when they got lost at a school trip and he got so clammy it was embarrassing.

5) Flushing

That one needed no further explanation. Sometimes, the way she looked at him left him so… so…

6) Mental confusion

Anya just left him confused him all the time. He couldn’t ever understand her, or what she was doing to him. He couldn’t understand why she made his head spin whenever she so much as stared at his general direction. Which would always lead to a-

7) Headache

Also self-explanatory. Dealing with Forger was always a constant pain. At times he could feel himself losing braincells during their weekly tutoring sessions.

8) Myoclonus-

A familiar voice made his pen stop on its tracks, hovering above the lined paper.

“Hey, Sy-on boy, watcha writing about?”

“N-nothing!”

Damian quickly ripped the page off his notebook, crumpled it and threw it as far as he could. It landed on George Glooman’s unnaturally flat head.

“Ow!”

During lunch, as Damian mused about Anya’s scheme to assassinate him, he felt a hand tap on his shoulder.

It was Anya, offering him almost her entire sandwich. Apparently, it had carrots on it.

He knew she hated carrots.

Damian grabbed said sandwich from Anya’s tiny hands, with a begrudging expression. She beamed at him without saying another word and left to find Blackbell.

Damian took a bite of the store-bought carrot sandwich, already expecting the worst. Except… it was kind of… delicious? Actually? He didn’t know peasant food could taste that good, honestly. He took several more bites.

Wait! What if the sandwich had been laced with antipsychotics? He ungracefully spit out the potential murder weapon.

Forger, you sneaky little spy-assassin! I’ll make you pay!

Several tables behind him, Anya Forger let out a “yeep!”. Damian turned around to find the girl in a frozen, shocked state.

When his eyes met her wide ones, they stood up from their tables almost in unison. Damian pointed his index finger at the short, pink-haired traitor. A blush dusting his round cheeks. Small tears forming around her big eyes.

Oh, he would make her pay, alright.

Both kids fled the cafeteria in purposeful opposite directions.

Chapter Text

fifth grade; spring

It wasn’t that Damian was nervous about going over to Anya’s house on a Saturday. Far from it, in fact. He was- hm, he was nervous for her! Obviously, she would feel the need to impress her much wealthier friends. That's gotta be hard.

She would have to host a sleepover for five rich kids in the tiniest apartment a Desmond had ever seen. And she obviously wouldn’t be able to compare her tiny apartment to his mansion… you know? He would even offer to host it there, but he already knew his dad wouldn’t let him under absolutely no circumstance.

Besides, it was all an excuse to watch the Spy Wars series finale as it aired, since Anya was the only who kept up with the show throughout the years.

They all promised to show up, either way. Damian, Ewen, Emile... Even Blackbell who, Damian was convinced, had not even watched a single episode of the action cartoon.

A shame, considering how good the first and second seasons were. Though it did take quite the nosedive in quality after its third season, even Anya would have to admit that. They were just stringing the romance subplot between Bondman and Princess Honey for far too long. Past the point of realism and into "no two people are that oblivious about each other" territory. 

Also, now that Damian knew a real-life spy, something about watching the show felt very much different. Not that he'd ever really seen Mr. Forger in action. Actually, Mr. Forger probably still wasn't aware that Damian had been in on his secret since, like, third grade. Or he was just pretending he didn't know that Damian knew.

Pushing the small yet complex web of lies aside, Damian wiped his sweaty palm on his pants as he made his way up the stairs. His other arm struggled to balance a pack of peanuts, some flowers, and a sleeping bag.

Okay, so maybe he was kind of nervous about the whole thing. What about it?

He hesitated for a minute, before knocking on the apartment's wooden door. It wasn’t like Damian had never been to the Forger residence before. He had, many times over the four years of knowing Forger even. But that was the first time he intended to spend the night there.

And his stupid heart and stupid feelings for the short, telepathic girl just made everything much worse. Much worse.

Regardless, Damian was soon greeted by a yelling Mrs. Forger holding a batch of clearly burnt cookies, wearing a stained apron and an even more stained panicked expression. There was a bead of sweat running down her forehead.

Okay. Perhaps Damian had gotten there a bit too early.

In his defense, he had been taught that arriving on time meant getting there with at least half an hour to spare.

“Oh, Mr. Desmond! We weren’t expecting you so soon! Loid is still…”

The older woman struggled to come up with a word for what her husband was up to. He knew that she knew but he also knew that she didn’t know that he knew.

“Working?” Damian offered, with a polite smile.

“Yes, exactly,” she smiled back.

Even though Mrs. Forger looked nothing like Anya, their smile was the same. They would always reach the eyes. Always so real, so unlike the ones he had grown up around.

He offered the giant bag of peanuts and the flowers to Anya’s mom, with a bit of a blush reaching his cheeks. He couldn't utter a single word, not even if he wanted to.

“Oh, so romantic! Anya will love these! Thank you, Mr. Desmond.”

Damian noticed that she was not talking about the flowers.

There was something oddly comfortable about being in the Forger’s residence, despite its miniscule space. It- it felt like a home.

In a way that not even his father’s house or the Eden dorms ever did.

The Spy Wars series ended with a bang.

Literally.

Anya gasped, with fresh tears forming around her eyes. Her distressed hand flew up to grab Damian's, who had been quietly sitting on her left side.

“Do you think Bondman died?!”

She turned to him, then. With huge emerald eyes and a frown. Her hand was so soft so soft so soft-

Damian shook his head.

“O-of course not,” he reasoned. “They just gotta keep it open ended in case they ever do a spin-off series.”

“ Booo ,” complained Emile.

The boys all ended up sleeping on the living room floor and couch, with Becky taking the Forger’s guest room. Ewen and Emile had insisted that Damian take the couch, but he would much rather sleep on the floor, for some reason. Maybe because he enjoyed looking at Anya’s house from the angle. Maybe because, that way, he could lay close to Bond. Maybe because he felt bad about his friends always giving him special treatment. Or maybe- maybe he just didn’t feel worthy to sleep in that warm house at all. Who knows, really. 

Either way he couldn’t really sleep. Memories of Anya’s soft hand kept flooding his brain every time Damian dared to close his eyes.

Ugh .

The boy stretched his left hand towards the ceiling, studying it against the faint moonlight infiltrating through open windows.

Why did he ever feel the need to acknowledge how he felt about Anya? Why couldn’t he just ignore it until it eventually faded away?

Beside him, Bond had moved closer to his other arm. Absentmindedly, Damian started to pet the dog, who let out what he could only guess was a content sigh.

A whisper spooked him out of his trance.

“Whacha doing, Sy-on boy?”

Damian promptly looked around, in panic, before finding Anya crouching down right next to him.

“Jesus, Forger, why are you up so late?” Damian muttered back.

“Could say the same thing about you.”

“Uh-“

Damian silently thanked God for the night shadows being able to cover up his blush. He nonchalantly shrugged in response. She shrugged back. Her smile, however, glistened even against the dark.

“Want some hot cocoa?” Anya offered.

“Sure.”

Anya makes hot cocoa and a bowl of cereal for them both at 1 am, preparing them with as much care as a 5-michelin-star meal. Damian can’t help but think of it like a dinner date.

He knows it isn’t one, what with the both of them wearing pajamas and speaking in hushed tones so they wouldn’t wake the whole house. And yet, the little moment felt as special as-

Stop! Stop thinking about things like that with- with her.

“Have you ever had Cocoa Puffs?”

Damian shook his head. He actually had never even tried industrialized cereal before. His parents wouldn’t let him. Besides, it was commoner’s food anyways.

“What about hot cocoa?”

Damian nodded.

“Well, but you haven’t had Anya’s special and ultra-secret hot cocoa recipe yet!” Her voice was so excited; it was adorable- Stop. Don’t.

“Maybe it’s not a fancy drink like caviar, but-"

“Caviar is not a drink, idiot.”

“- but I swear it’s just as good!” She motioned a cross on her chest and Damian’s cheek dusted in furious red. "Cross my heart."

In order to hide his face from her scrutiny, Damian took a sip of Anya’s stupid hot drink. Expectant eyes followed his move, patiently waiting for a reaction.

It really was just as good. But he’d never tell her that. As a matter of fact, after a couple more sips, he was about to tell her the exact opposite. Except, she spoke up first.

“So, Sy-on boy also couldn’t sleep?”

“Y-yeah, I couldn’t.”

“Is it because of all the stuff with your dad and his party?”

No.

“Yeah.”

“Anya feels really sorry.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

They chatted for a few more minutes, each finishing up their respective mugs as well as their share of the cereal bowl. The whole thing made Damian feel a certain sense domesticity he had barely ever experienced before. He'd never really had a midnight snack like that. Much less someone to share it with.

As they said their goodnights, Anya paused by the doorframe while heading back to her room.

For a moment, the girl seemed deep in thought (a rarity, Anya Forger thinking), before turning around. A determined expression on her face. Marching back to the living room, she grabbed at Damian’s arm, pulling him down to her level and planting a kiss on his cheek.

Heat flared up his cheeks and Damian let out a loud sound akin to that of a boiling kettle. Crap, should've been more careful not to wake anyone else.

But… what had just happened?

Had he been dreaming this entire time? Certainly this wasn't happening for real.

“What was that for?” Damian whispered, a hint of desperation in his tone.

Still with furrowed brows, Anya replied with simplicity.

“Kisses help with sleep. Mama told me it always works.”

Oh god. And she was serious about it too.

Damian’s head slowly nodded, so as to pretend he had been fully able to process the whole thing.

Without any other warning, Anya turned on her heels and went straight to her bedroom, leaving a very much stunned and very much embarrassed Damian behind. Standing in the middle of the Forger’s living room, he could swear he saw her a soft blush reaching her ears. Probably just his hopeful imagination, though.

Either way, he was definitely not sleeping tonight.

Chapter Text

tenth grade; spring/summer

Damian was going to ask her out to the end of school year Dance.

And he wasn’t going to chicken out this year. He wasn't! He was so determined that his leg was shaking underneath his desk. In fact, his whole body was trembling. His hands were even getting sticky already and-

Oh, God, he was going to throw up.

Focus on your mission, Desmond.

No time to waste. He gulped. He had to act fast, do it soon. Otherwise, someone else might do it before him.

Afterall, Anya was, unbeknownst to her, very popular with guys. For Christ’s sake, she was the prettiest girl in their year. By far! Perhaps even the prettiest girl in the whole world! Speaking from a completely objective opinion, of course. Desmonds worked with hard facts only.

Anyway, surely there were others with their sights locked on Forger for the dance. Surely.

But, having considered it for a moment, did that mean Damian should… let someone else do it before him? Maybe if he had no shot at all, he wouldn’t feel so bad when things eventually didn’t go his way.

For some reason, Damian's stomach churned even harder at the thought of Forger politely declining his invitation because she was interested in going with someone else. It churned again at the made-up scenario of her even agreeing to go with some other boy.

Or - another churn- an even worse scenario where she actually agrees to go with Damian himself.

I mean it’s not like she likes me anyway, so she would probably only agree out of pity, if at all.

Still. Was he that desperate that he’d take her pity either way?

Yes, Damian’s own treacherous voice answered for him. He hit his head against his desk once, then twice. He was hopeless.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

Anya’s head snapped back to stare at him at that exact moment. She tilted her head curiously and actually looked worried for his well being. Damian figured he earned that; he was never that good at hiding his emotional turmoils.

Does it look that bad? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

Several rows in front of him, Anya wrote something down on her notebook in big letters, then lifted it up ever so slightly so that Damian could read it.

‘YES, IT DOES.’

Oh. Great.

Stop reading my mind, Forger, I didn’t give you the ‘go’ sign.

He only saved the “go” sign for extreme, desperate moments. Like when Forger was about to flunk an exam. Or during one of his father’s political parties. Or when he was bored out of his mind during class and wanted to chat.

‘SORRY’

Anya flipped a page and added.

‘YOU WERE BEING LOUD’

Another scrible. Damian could hear distress in her breaths even from far way.

‘GOT WORRIED’

Even though Anya had gotten pretty good at controlling her powers over the years, she had once explained to him that they worked sort of like a radio. She could turn it on and off when she wanted to and usually could focus on what she wanted to listen to. But sometimes, there could be some- interference. Damian understood it for the most part. The whole mind-reading thing was just as mysterious to him as it was to Anya herself, anyways.

Their teacher entered the class and started to immediately take roll calls. Damian's attention struggled to focus still.

“Hey, Damian, you okay?” Ewen leaned over, sounding quite concerned too.

Damian waved his friend off.

Damn that stupid girl. Why did she have to go and punch some sense into him back when they were in first grade? Why couldn't she just have left him alone and focused on Plan A instead?

I hate you, Forger.

Anya shot back a pointed look, poking out her tongue at him directly.

I told you to stop reading my mind, idiot. Pay attention, your name’s coming up.

She finally turned away, then. With a hand hiding his mouth, Damian’s lips curled up slightly. The nerves on this woman, honestly.

His anxiety, although for the moment, was easily brushed aside by thoughts of how annoying Forger was being that morning.

Yet, when lunch time came, there it was again. Anxiety eating him from the inside every time he so much as looked her way.

Damian had already taken Anya as his plus one to his father’s political gatherings and parties before, so actually dancing with her wasn’t an issue.

The two had very much perfected a couple of routines, as a matter of fact. They hadn’t done it since his father’s political party was dissolved a couple of years back, but really, that was not the problem here, at all.

The problem was this: the social gatherings weren’t nearly as embarassing as a school dance.

Besides, there was little to no romantic subtext to going on pseudo-missions with his pseudo-spy girlfriend- I mean, girl friend! GIRL, SPACE, FRIEND!

Either way, the Eden dance was always… well, the paired couples were always usually… well, they were expected to-

Never mind.

Weeks flew by until it was almost summer again.

Damian had just scored the conclusive goal of the soccer finals. Securing Eden’s first place in the championship. And after recovering from last year’s knee injury, nonetheless. (A small accident happened when trying to help Anya escape out of the school window. Nothing else to it).

Not much else mattered at that moment,  though. Damian was over the moon.

When the referee whistled one last time, the crowd erupted in cheers and Damian’s eyes immediately scanned the bleachers. Easily finding a mop of pink hair, bouncing up and down. Probably the only person who knew the extent of how much that meant for him.

Anya smiled back widely and let out a laugh when his teammates picked him up off the ground in celebration.

The second he was put back on the ground, his gaze fell to the bleachers again. Except Anya was nowhere to be found.

Where did she-

Oh. Damian felt a strong finger tapping on his shoulder from behind.

He didn’t even need to turn around to guess who it was. In a split second, he had already picked Anya off by the waist and spun her around, ending the movement with a tight hug. Damian smiled against her hot neck, still holding on to her. Refusing to put her back on the ground.

“CONGRATULATIONS, SY-ON!” She had screamed, trying to be louder than the large crowd forming on the soccer field. But with his laser-guided focus on her face, they might as well have been completely alone. He didn’t need to thank her, she knew.

His grip on her waist tightened and Anya let out a silent gasp. Damian’s smile faded a bit as his gaze traveled downwards from her wide emerald eyes towards her bright pink lips. Had they always looked this soft? And, right now, they were so close and so within reach, Damian could just close the space and see if they were truly-

One of his teammates bumped into his shoulder, forcing Damian to open his eyes and realize what he was about to do. Time suddenly went back to its normal pace.

Oh, man. He had to get a grip.

Was he about to- to… in front of everyone?! But…

Didn’t she look like she was about to- to… as well?

Okay, okay.

Think, Desmond. What are we about to do? What’s our move?

He slowly let Anya’s feet touch the ground again. A light soreness to his arms as the adrenaline slowly left his body. Damian scanned her one last time before his mouth got the best of him. Always acting much faster than his brain could ever keep up with.

“Wanna go to the ball with me?”

“WHAT?” Anya motioned to her ear. She couldn't hear him. Maybe he should let it go. Actually he should, for sure, let it go.

Damian sighed. One foot in, no way out now. He moved closer to Anya's ear and shouted.

“DO. YOU. WANT. TO. GO. TO. THE. DANCE. WITH. ME?”

Damian immediately regretted it, wanting to cringe into oblivion.

Why did he have to go about it in that way? And with the whole school around to witness his romantic failures. That was on him, though. He wouldn't blame her at all for the incoming public rejection. The boy closed his eyes forcefully so he wouldn’t have to physically face her inevitable "no".

Instead, though, he was met with the feeling of soft lips on his cheek.

“Su-SURE!”

Eyes snapped open as Damian gently touched the spot Anya had kissed, in disbelief. Oh, man. Oh, man. He was taking Anya Forger to the dance. Him.

He was so not getting any sleep tonight.

The two of them continued to stare at each for so long that the celebrations around them had significantly died down. Damian was now hyper-aware of how sweaty and disgusting he probably looked. And smelled.

He took a step back.

“You know, I have to- hm-“

“Yeah, yeah. I gotta-“

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Turns out going to the dance with Anya Forger really wasn’t such a big deal after all. 

They had danced a little, they ate, they even made small talk with their teachers, like the good, respectable Imperial Scholars they were, but, really they mostly just spent their time outside. Sitting on the grass in fancy suits after sneaking out some of the peanuts and pelled pistachios.

Just talking. Like they always did.

It was less noisy and much, much more comfortable that way. Besides, it was way easier on Anya’s head. The whispers and "loud teenage thoughts" started to get to her after a while. So, Damian had led her towards the oak tree just outside the ballroom, where they were now sitting under.

Soon they were even joined by Becky, who sat next to Anya in hopes to hide from her boy of the week (“Gabriel’s too clingy, I had to get away”), Emile, who had run out of social battery (“Thank god these only happen once a year”) and Ewen who had been searching for the rest of the group all night. (“Man, you all totally bailed on me back there!”)

Damian was only half-listening to his friends' chatter by that point, staring at the soft full moon above them when he felt it. It was Anya’s pinky, touching his. Startled by the apparently innocent action, his eyes flew right to her direction. Only to find her focused on whatever it was Becky was gossiping about.

Slowly, as if not meaning anything by it (yet meaning everything at the same time), Damian placed his hand slightly above hers. Just partially. Just to test the waters. Pretending to still be entranced by the moon.

He could not give less of a shit about that moon right now. It felt as if World Peace was at stake here.

Out of his peripheral vision, Damian noticed that Anya’s posture straightened. Oh no. He had done too much. Fuck.

Then, just as he was about to lose all hope, Anya moved her hand, so that it was completely under his. Damian was about to be bold and intertwine their fingers when Ewen suddenly stood up, with arms up.

Anya and Damian immediately pulled their hands back to their respective sides.

“YO! I heard that next year we’ll have to start taking two preparatory tests every month. That’s like once every two weeks!”

Becky forcefully hit Ewen’s belly with her designer purse, forcing him to sit back down.

“That’s literally still this year, dumdum.”

“You know what I meant! Next school year.”

“Three months is a lot of time, though,” argued Emile.

Damian was sure he was as red as a tomato at the moment. His heart still racing like an F1 car and his mind still busy going over what had just happened. He dared to glance at Anya, finding her looking elsewhere, with only a faint shade of pink painting her ears. For some reason, a soft feeling sat over his chest.

Yeah, it was way more comfortable this way.

“Desmond, your turn!” Becky’s voice snapped him out of his peaceful mental state.

“Truth or dare?” Looking over, he could see Blackbell holding the most devious smirk he had ever seen.

Something nagged on his mind that maybe he should be careful about what he picks.

“Truth,” Damian chose. Clearly not what Becky wished he did.

“Fine. Who’s your best friend? You can only pick one!”

Oh, he knew what she was up to. She probably wanted him to pick between Emile and Ewen. Well, joke’s on her, the answer had always been Anya.

“No one,” he answered instead.

“DUDE!” Both male friends answered in unison.

“Oh, shut up, Desmond. Acting like a loner is such a stupid boy thing to do.”

No one was really fooled by the statement, really.

Emile even slightly pushed him, and Damian let out a chuckle, pretending to fall over to the grass. His suit would probably be ruined beyond repair by that point but whatever. With one final look at the moon and its stars, Damian placed his arms behind his neck and closed his eyes.

He could feel Anya’s presence lying beside him moments later. Her long pink hair strands accidentally scratching his cheek as she fell ungracefully towards the grass.

Damian didn’t even need to look over to know she was smiling too, right within arm’s reach.

Chapter Text

eleventh grade; fall

Her hair was short again.

It’s the first thing he notices after summer break and, apparently, the only thing he can think about for hours and hours on end. 

Anya and her new shoulder-length hair.

Well, technically not new, the hair’s actually pretty similar to the way she wore it in first grade. Though, back then her face was way rounder. And her entire head, larger.

Still, the not-so-new haircut complimented Anya nicely either way. Damian wondered why the sudden change when she had been growing her hair out for the last nine years. 

Was it because of the heat? Was the long hair getting difficult to maintain?

He couldn’t help but keep staring at the back of Anya’s head during class. Watching her hair move in all kinds of directions as she nods along to the teacher’s lecture. Or maybe she was just trying not to fall asleep. Wouldn’t be the first time.

God, her hair looked so silky. And pink.

He desperately wanted to run his hands through it. He wanted her to lay her head on his lap and sleep against him as he ran his fingers through her now short curls. He wanted to reach over and lay a kiss on her forehead after doing so. He wanted-

The bell rang, announcing the end to their very first class of the semester.

Shit.

He hadn’t been able to take a single note during the entire period.

She stained her imperial cloak with ketchup during lunch that same day.

Out of the corner of his eye, Damian saw her shiver and, without even a second thought, wrapped her up in his own cloak. Pulling her close against his torso.

He had tried, so, so very hard, to pretend it meant nothing. Maintaining conversation with their friends without any crack of his voice. He tried to pretend his heart wasn’t about to burst when he found her clinging to him for warmth. A single string of sweat ran down his forehead as he tried to focus on whatever it was Blackbell was rambling on about.

Had Anya’s perfume always been this intoxicating?

Damian didn’t dare to wash his cape for the remainder of the week. Not until Anya’s sweet strawberry scent had worn off completely.

Oh, man.

He was such a creep.

They weren’t naive kids anymore, either.

Damian knew how his relationship with Anya was perceived by anyone else outside of his close-knit friend circle. And how basically every other girl in school wouldn’t even dare to approach him, because they thought he was entirely off-limits.

“Oh, don’t even bother with him, he’s been dating the Forger girl since they were like in kindergarten.”

That one was the most common misconception. As if Anya even liked hanging out with him back when they were kids. She was sort of forced into doing it until gradually becoming real friends over time. Besides, he was kind of an asshole back then. He wouldn’t blame her.

“Yeah, they were like paired up when they were kids because she’s like really dumb and he’s really smart.”

While that part about his weekly tutoring sessions was true, the rest was absurdly false. Anya Forger was truly one of the smartest persons he had ever met. And he had met a handful of Nobel Prize winners so far. She just wasn’t the best at taking standardized tests.

Damian, on the other hand, would be the first to admit that, even though he fucking excelled at exams, sometimes he could be a bit… dense. 

(“For someone so smart, Sy-on boy can be really dumb sometimes,” Anya had once stated, with pinpoint accuracy.)

“I heard he once bought his girlfriend a truckload of roses.”

Peanuts! It was a truckload of peanuts! And it was just for her birthday party. Completely non-romantic and justified.

“Well, I heard they’re quite the political power couple. Apparently, he takes her out as arm candy for, like, conferences and parties.”

Strictly for intel! But that was something he wouldn’t ever admit to, not even if interrogated by the SSS.

“Oh! I’ve seen her leaving his dorm room once. Quite scandalous!”

That one was stupid, yet mostly true. She was always up in his room. If nothing else, because of how big his TV was. Or maybe because she wanted to spite Eden Academy's strict rules. Of course, they mostly just watched cartoons, played cards, or simply talked for hours on end. Nothing more to it.

“I heard they’re already engaged.”

Preposterous. His family would probably never accept Forger and her (fake) non-influential surname. Though, he supposed, his situation was at least somewhat better than his older brother’s. Fewer expectations for the future of the Desmond lineage weighed on Damian’s shoulders.

“I mean, have you seen how they look at each other? They’re so in love!”

That-

That one had always hurt the most. No further comments needed.

Either way, Damian hadn’t ever felt the need to correct any of the rumors and set the record straight. (Because part of him wanted to believe they were true, like everybody else).

Strangely, though, neither did Anya. He wondered if maybe he should give her a heads up. Always an air-head, that one. Maybe she hadn’t even realized people were gossiping about them at all. Her lack of social awareness baffled Damian sometimes, considering she could literally read people’s minds.

Damian made a mental note to talk about all of that. Eventually. Maybe after this year’s dance, just to be safe. Maybe after graduation even, when all potential Eden suitors would be out of the picture.

Maybe never.

They were at the library one day, when, out of boredom and sheer curiosity, he had asked her.

“Hey, Forger-”

She turned away from her own Biology book then, looking mildly irritated. He knew she had to ace their test on Friday. He shouldn’t be distracting her like that.

“If you had a kid, would they have superpowers like you? Like is that even in your genes?”

Already bringing her attention back to her studies, she had absentmindedly replied:

“I don’t know, Damian”, Anya flipped through another page loudly. “If we had a kid would they be super inconvenient like you too? Is that in your genes?”

Huh.

His tired mind raced to come up with a response. Not able to fully registering her slip up. Or even her use of his first name.

“Ooh. ‘Inconvenient’. Big word.”

Damian went back to burrowing his face in his notes.

Here’s how it happened.

They were in his dorm room, watching Spy Wars reruns, sitting at the edge of his bed.

He had poked her ribcage over some dumb comment she made, which led to an uncontrolled giggle on Anya’s part. He’d forgotten she was ticklish.

Out of spite, Anya poked him back. Damian attacked her once more, and the back and forth continued until they were heading towards a full-on tickle war.

God, she always made him feel like a kid.

Damian let out an honest, final laugh and laid down on his bed.

Probably without thinking much about it, Anya plopped down as well, landing right above him.

She was close. Too close for comfort.

Her laughter died down and suddenly the room got at least 10 degrees hotter. And, when he caught Anya staring down at his mouth intently… the tiny dormroom became as scalding as the surface of the sun itself.

She had always been such a bright presence. In every possible way. Like pure sunlight. The kind of light that filled your insides with new life while also being quite hard to look directly at. But, right now, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Damian wanted to reach out and touch her face. He wanted to-

No one really knows who leaned in first. Maybe it was both. Maybe the sneaky little esper got the best of him. If she had, then she would get bragging rights later.

But honestly, it didn’t really matter.

One second ago he wasn’t kissing Anya Forger and now he was. That’s what mattered.

Damian cranked his neck upwards for a better angle of Anya’s lips, holding her jaw with both hands to keep steady.

It wasn’t really how he’d imagined, much less romantic and much more mundane, and yet- so much better. 

He’d fantasized about this exact moment for so long that it had felt completely unattainable. But here it was. With Anya’s lips, battling against his own. Like it was just another one of their silly competitions.

He melted against her, not being able to hide his smile.

Damian should ask her how she felt about him. Since when? Why? Was she sure?

However, when they broke apart for air, they were instantly back at it again. No words exchanged. Later, he’d decided. He could ask about all of that later.

Right now, Damian was too focused on Anya’s thigh in between his, on her hands grabbing the back of his head, on her short hair tingling against his face.

Damian’s palms flew to her waist, pulling her closer, closer, and closer-

He needed her much closer than practically or even physically possible. Damian clumsily maneuvered them around the bed so that she was under him. Exactly the way he had pictured a million times before, except tangible this time.

Anya let out a surprised gasp, shortly followed by a laugh. Her green eyes stared back at him like she felt the same way he did.

The scene left him stunned.

God, he loved her. He loved her so much his chest ached.

Damian’s thumb ghosted over her lip.

“Anya.”

His voice was weak. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, really. Her name just escaped his lips like they were an already formed sentence. What could one even say after something like that?

After another quiet moment of admiration, Damian went back to her mouth. Kissing her senseless and aimlessly, before deciding to bite on her bottom lip. It earned him a downright sinful sound and an entrance to her mouth.

With a hand on Damian’s neck, Anya herself deepened the kiss. The second his tongue touched hers, Damian’s heart started doing cartwheels.

This couldn’t possibly be real.

It was unexpected and clumsy. It wasn’t romantic or flashy. It was so like her.

It was perfect.

Next Friday, they were back in his dorm again. Alone. Except they weren’t watching old cartoons this time.

Anya Forger was kissing Damian Desmond’s mouth with enthusiasm, like her life depended on it. She then kissed his nose, then his cheek and then back to his mouth again. Large hands brushed her hair back, exposing her neck to the scion’s ferocious attacks.

They were decidedly not watching cartoons this time.

Soon after disconnecting their lips, Damian started to kiss his way along the trajectory of her throat, earning wicked moans in response - while also being careful not to leave any suspicious marks on her skin.

Anya was on her seventh Tonitrus Bolt, after all. Not taking any chances there.

Perhaps the most cautious thing to do was to not have her there, in his dorm, at all. But that option was simply discarded as soon as Anya had stood by his door, pleading with those sparkly green eyes of hers. At least she hadn’t come through the window, this time around.

Damian could feel a smile dancing on her lips as he continued to kiss her neck, before she called his attention back to her face.

“Hey, Sy-on boy,” a pause as Anya placed both her hands on Damian’s shoulder blades. “Wanna know a secret?”

He only hummed, already going back to her neck. Anya shivered against the touch, and he reveled in the reaction.

Before she quickly shoved him out of the way to rummage through her bag.

“Hey! I was in the middle of something here!” Damian complained.

Anya ignored his protests and, after a minute of searching, took out a crumpled piece of paper from her briefcase.

It looked worn out and even torn in some places. Some of the writing was fading away, to the point where it got hard to read. Especially under the dim light of his dorm room.

“What’s this? ’Reasons why Anya Forger is a-’ oh no.”

It was a dumb list he had made almost a decade ago.

“Oh yes,” and there it was. The classic Anya Forger smirk. “I went back to pick it up that day. Found it yesterday while going through some boxes.”

His whole face flushed.

It had been years! Why would she have even kept something like that?

“So, you knew I liked you since third grade?” There was irrational desperation to his tone. As if Anya knowing he had a crush on her was mortifyingly embarrassing, as if they hadn’t just spent the last afternoon intensely making out. In his bed.

“Wait. You've liked me since third grade?!”

Anya could be so oblivious sometimes. Desmond couldn’t help but let out a long laugh. 

The girl stared back at him in genuine shock. The look on her face only causing Damian to laugh even harder. He laughed and laughed so hard his ribs began to hurt.

Finally, after a few more chuckles and a tear wiped from his eye, Damian decided to answer his girlfriend.

“‘Course not, idiot.”

Anya looked a bit disappointed at that. Her brown had slightly frowned and there was an innocent pout on her lips. So, to spare her feelings, Damian added the whole truth:

“I’ve liked you since much longer.”

Damian reflected the smile she gave him after that.

“At the time, I thought that meant Papa’s mission was ruined and I had just started a world war,” Anya explained. Because of course she did.

She finished her side of the story with a heartfelt laugh too, one which Damian soon joined in.

“God, you’re so dumb.”

“No, you’re dumb.”

He kissed her again. 

And again. 

And again.

And again.

“I- love you,” Anya claimed tenderly in between kisses.

“I know,” he vocalized in fake nonchalance. As if there was anyone else in the room to be fooled by that. 

He subtly gave her their “go” sign, before squeezing her hand.

I love you too, Forger.