Lost in the Void, Found in the Stars | Damian Wayne Oneshots

"I Think You Are Very" | Maya Ducard

Summary: Maya took French in high school because it made her think of Damian. One day, late at night when she was tired and delirious, she accidentally sents him a text.

.・。.・゜✭・»»--⍟--««.・✫・゜・。.

Maya's high school French class was going well enough on paper. She could understand the basics, mostly the verbs, even if the conjugations were a mess. But speaking it aloud was another story entirely. She hadn't expected her words to sound so... awkward. Nothing like the way Damian said them. She'd heard him drop perfect French phrases effortlessly, casually mentioning he'd been fluent since he was nine, no big deal. So, of course, she had signed up for French.

When she'd started the class, she told herself it was just to broaden her language skills. But really, it was all about him. A part of her wanted to feel closer to him, to understand something he was passionate about. And, okay, maybe there was a small part of her that imagined showing off one day, like, Yeah, Damian, I took French too.

Except, now that she was actually doing it, French was harder than she'd expected. The pronunciation was elusive, slipping out wrong no matter how many times she repeated it. Still, she'd caught herself a few times getting the accent just right and thinking, Damian would be proud. The thought had always made her feel warm, but she brushed it off. It was just French; no big deal.

One late night, exhausted from studying, she leaned back in her chair, eyes drooping and mind foggy. Her French textbook was spread open, crammed with her own messy notes, the words blurring together. She tried to focus, translating a sentence about vegetables and gardens. But her mind kept wandering back to Damian and the times he'd helped her or when he'd just talk about his life in passing. And out of nowhere, she found herself thinking, I wonder if Damian knows he's pretty.

The thought alone made her laugh, feeling silly. But before she had time to second-guess herself, she picked up her phone.

Je pense... Damian est... très beau? Jolie? She bit her lip, thinking it over. Joli? Pretty boy? Close enough.

Then, in her sleep-deprived state, she accidentally hit send before finishing the sentence. It read:

Je pense que tu es trop

Instantly, she froze, staring at the screen. Her heart did a little flip as she realized what she'd sent. She wanted to groan. Way to go, Maya. Midnight texting while half-asleep is a bad idea, she thought.

She dropped her phone on her desk, deciding it was best to just forget about it. Damian was probably asleep by now anyway. Maybe he wouldn't even notice it until the morning.

But on the other end of Gotham, Damian had just turned out the lights when he felt his phone vibrate. He frowned, briefly wondering if his father needed him back on patrol. But it wasn't anyone from the team.

Je pense que tu es trop...

He raised an eyebrow, chuckling at the unfinished message. Trop what?

Still, her attempt made him smile. It was clear she was trying to tell him he was pretty, even if she hadn't quite managed to finish her sentence.

He felt something unexpected, a warm rush at her attempt to speak French. He knew his heart was weak for Maya's affections, but this clumsy phrase had caught him completely off guard. She was trying in her own awkward way, and he couldn't help but smile. A genuine smile, one that would probably surprise anyone who knew him.

And then he laughed. She wasn't exactly smooth with the language, but her sincerity made it ten times better than anything grammatically perfect. In a language that meant something to him, she was calling him... pretty. Who would've thought?

After a moment, he tapped out a reply, taking his time with the words.

Moi aussi, je trouve Maya très mignonne.

Me too, I find Maya very cute.

There was something so charming about Maya when she wasn't perfect. He leaned back, rereading her message once more. It wouldn't be so bad if she kept sending him her midnight thoughts...

The next morning, Maya woke up to sunlight streaming through her window and the blaring alarm on her phone. She reached out to silence it, her hand brushing against the cold surface of her phone, which she sleepily brought up to her face. Then she saw his reply.

Moi aussi, je trouve Maya très mignonne.

Maya's cheeks turned a deep shade of red as she read it, her heart flipping as she fully processed his words. She'd tried to call him pretty, but she hadn't expected him to return the favor, and in French no less.

A silly little smile spread across her face. The fact that Damian, of all people, thought she was cute made her feel more accomplished than any French grade could.

It was only when she scrolled back up that she realized just how awkward her original message must have sounded to him. She groaned, covering her face with her hands. But she would keep learning, and one day she would surprise him with a fluent sentence-one that was complete.

End