Chapter Text
Damian acknowledged that Anya had a tendency to be unpredictable, but he prided himself on knowing her better than most. So, he was only minimally surprised at her exclamation during breakfast three days later.
“Shit!”
Damian whipped his head around from the sink where he had begun cleaning the dishes. His sigh was audible as he watched the fresh coffee soak into Anya’s shirt.
“Are you okay? It didn’t burn you, did it?”
Anya grunted, “Ugh, no. I’m fine. It’s just that this was my last good shirt.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, like… this was my last clean one.”
Damian felt his face scrunch in judgement.
“If you thought you’d be here for a week then why didn’t you pack for it?” He began to interrogate her.
“Well, there was the one I drove up in, I thought that would be good for the whole day. But then we went swimming so I put a different shirt on for a coverup since I didn’t want to take the one I had been wearing on and off–it was kinda’ sweaty y’know. Then the coverup got salt water on it so I changed again to sleep, but then I got sick and didn’t want to sleep in that shirt. So… Besides, how was I supposed to know that this house doesn’t have a washing machine? I thought you were rich?”
Damian didn’t bother answering her, watching as the wet fabric clung to her body. He… he needed to get her a new shirt.
“Okay, umm…” he thought for a moment, “Alright, there’s a town about twenty minutes away, they have outlets and stuff. We can buy you more clothes… Um, you can wear one of mine for now.”
He quickly ran upstairs to his room, rummaging through his drawers. Damian ended up picking a random band t-shirt that he hadn’t worn in a while, if he wore it more after this week–whose to say.
Damian looked up from his drawer to find that Anya had followed him upstairs and was now standing in his doorway.
“Here, put this on,” he threw the shirt over her head.
Anya’s resulting laugh was harmonious.
She emerged wearing the shirt after a few minutes. To say it was big on her was an understatement. The collar hung loose enough to the point where he could see one of her bra straps. Damian tried not to let that thought plague him, it was just fabric. He’d live…
—
Soon enough, Damian found himself back in the car with Anya at his side.
“Damian, can I turn on the radio?”
“Um, you can try, but I don’t think there’s service out here.”
She didn’t say anything, but he could feel her frown.
Soon enough Anya reached over and punched the side of his arm.
“Punch buggy blue!” she yelled, giggling maniacally.
“Ow! Also, you’re such a liar. There’s nobody else on this road.”
“Damian, open your eyes, an invisible car clearly just drove by. I think we need to get your vision checked,” Anya teased, crossing her arms.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup,” she said, popping her ‘p’.
“If it was invisible then how’d you know it was blue?”
“Because the shadow was blue tinted, duh. This is common knowledge,” Anya laughed, “And they say you’re the smartest in the grade.”
Damian rolled his eyes before taking one hand off the steering wheel and lightly punching Anya back.
She shot him a look of mock horror.
“You forgot to say no punch backs, idiot.”
Damian watched from the corner of his eye as she bit back a laugh and looked out the window.
—
The pair arrived at the destination in no time.
The streets were lined with people all walking up and down the main drag. The various parks, restaurants, and arcades all overlooked the glistening ocean. On the sidewalk was a seemingly endless line of colorful tents.
“Oh, I forgot they’re having a trade fair this weekend.”
Anya was quiet as she just took in her surroundings. She seemed mesmerized, it made Damian smile.
“This is gonna sound stupid, but something about this just brought back a random memory for me.”
Damian was quiet, prompting her to continue as they walked down the street.
“I went on a vacation with my family while Mama was still pregnant with my brother, it was a town that kinda' looked like this. And I have this really sharp memory of Mama craving corn, for some reason, and Papa got really enthusiastic about it,” Anya laughed, “He made me come with him as we drove around for hours trying to find whoever sold the sweetest corn. Papa went on this whole tangent about how you have to buy it the same day it was picked or something.”
Anya sighed wistfully, “It was like he was some sort of connoisseur, but that was the length he’d go for Mama… It took forever, and it didn’t even end up being that good, but it was so cute.”
Damian stared at her as she smiled to herself, wishing that he could hear all of the little details that she left unspoken. She was right, it really was a random story. He hoped that someday he’d have the opportunity to do something like that for Anya. That maybe, if they ever got married, he’d make it his goal to do something that was over-the-top just to make her happy. Damian was getting ahead of himself, they weren’t even dating… yet? It wasn’t so wrong to dream.
It didn’t take long for Anya to spot a store she liked, she was not embarrassed to drag him along. Damian stood back as she thumbed through hangers. The store sported bright tank tops, graphic tees, shorts that were a bit too short–in Damian’s honest opinion, and even lacy sleepwear which Damian quickly averted his eyes from. He felt out of place, to say the least.
“Hello sir, can I help you with anything?”
He turned to his side, seeing one of the women who worked there.
“Oh, no… thank you though. I’m just waiting for someone…” Damian scanned the store to see where Anya had scurried off to.
“Oh! The girl with the pink hair, right?”
Damian didn’t mean to, but he knew he looked at her funny.
Thankfully the girl laughed, “Sorry! I didn’t mean that to sound weird, I just saw you two walk in together. Anyway, if either of you need help let me know. Oh! And tell your girlfriend that her dye job is amazing!”
Damian didn’t have a chance to correct her before she walked away, Anya’s hair was very obviously natural.
It wasn’t long before Damian found Anya. After a brief argument–which Damian won–they agreed that he would pay for the clothes and they left the store.
The two walked up and down the strip for a while longer, stopping in an ice cream parlor around lunchtime, as they scanned a few more stores. Damian stopped in an antique bookstore for a bit, but ended up not buying anything. Anya brought them into a crystal shop which they quickly left because she started complaining that the incense would give her another headache. Eventually the sun began to set and the pair found themselves in a small pub for dinner.
“So, did you hear from your parents?” Damian asked over his glass of iced-tea.
“Did you hear the phone ring?”
“No.”
“Then no, I didn’t,” Anya gave him a judgmental look, “Why? That eager to get rid of me already?”
Damian laughed, “No of course not, Anya. You know I love having you around.”
He thought she knew, at least, but her partially shocked expression told him otherwise.
“Um, you uh- you make me laugh. And I enjoy our conversations… and stuff… wh- don’t look at me like that!” He stammered.
“No, it's just… I feel like you never say what you’re truly thinking.”
“Oh yeah? As if you know what I’m thinking,” Damian teased.
“Actuallly I do, I’m a mind reader Damian. Don’t you know?” She raised a brow at him.
“Of course you are. Then what am I thinking right now?”
“You’re thinking that I can’t read minds, duh.”
Damian gave a mock look of shock, “Oh my God! Anya, how could you? You mean… this whole time? Wow. I can’t believe you kept this from me. I mean, I should have you exiled or something.”
They both laughed, but Anya’s smile didn’t quite seem to reach her eyes.
—
The car ride home passed in contented silence, finally they pulled into the gravel driveway of the beach house.
Anya yawned as she got out of the car, stretching.
“Ugh, I’m exhausted,” she whined, “Dibs on the shower!”
Her yell trailed off as she ran inside the house.
Damian could only sigh, she was lucky he liked her.
He sat on his bed reading a book, when she burst in the room holding her towel and about five bottles of what he could only assume were hair products. Damian watched as she pulled open one of his drawers, rummaging through it.
“What do you think you're doing,” he pressed.
“Looking for a shirt to change into after my shower…” she replied, preoccupied with invading his privacy.
“Didn’t I just buy you a whole bunch of shirts?”
“Yeah, I know. But I didn’t end up getting any of those pajama sets and the others are too nice to sleep in. Besides, yours are really comfy.”
He didn’t get a chance to reply as she held up one of his t-shirts with a satisfied sound and fled his room.
Damian stared up at the ceiling as he heard the sound of the shower turn on.
He sighed, ignoring the rising heat in his cheeks.