Summary: Jaime is in over his head.
.・。.・゜✭・»»——⍟——««.・✫・゜・。.
The first call had been a mistake. Damian had been holed up in his room at the Manor, half-listening to his animals rustling around when his phone buzzed. He didn’t recognize the number but answered out of boredom.
“Hey, is this Maria?” a voice asked, warm and slightly rushed. It was the kind of voice that sounded like it came with a permanent grin.
“No,” Damian replied flatly. He was seconds from hanging up when the stranger spoke again.
“Oh, crap. Sorry. Wrong number.” A pause. “Wait, so you’re not Maria?”
Damian frowned. “What part of ‘no’ was unclear?”
The laugh that followed wasn’t what Damian expected. It was genuine, caught off-guard, like the guy hadn’t meant to find him funny but did anyway. “Okay, fair enough. Guess I dialed the wrong number. That tracks. Anyway, uh, have a nice—”
“You’re calling from out of town,” Damian interrupted, not sure why he was still on the line. “The area code gives it away. What do you want?”
There was a beat of silence, then: “Just… weather updates, I guess?” The guy sounded sheepish, but there was a thread of amusement under his words.
“The weather? In Gotham?” Damian deadpanned. “Do you expect me to report on the perpetual gloom?”
Another laugh, louder this time. “Touché. You don’t sound like a weather guy, though. Too fancy.”
Damian blinked. Fancy? “And you don’t sound like someone with a purpose,” he retorted. “Or perhaps you’re just lost. Not uncommon for people who don’t belong here.”
“Ouch.” The guy sounded delighted, not offended. “Are you always this charming, or did I catch you on a bad day?”
Damian opened his mouth to respond but stopped, unsure why he was humoring this moron. Against his better judgment, he stayed on the call, their conversation meandering from the absurdity of Gotham traffic to the kinds of pets people owned there (he didn’t mention his own).
The caller was unlike anyone else in his world. He didn’t tiptoe around Damian’s bluntness or bristle at his occasional sharp remarks. If anything, the guy met him head-on, sometimes even turning Damian’s words back on him in a way that left him smirking at his phone like an idiot.
That night, after they hung up, Damian thought about deleting the number. He didn’t.
The calls kept coming. Sometimes, the stranger claimed it was another “wrong number,” but Damian wasn’t an idiot. It had become a pattern, a strange ritual they both seemed to enjoy.
Damian learned that the guy had siblings he lovingly referred to as “a pain in my ass,” and had a knack for making fun of Damian’s overly formal speech. He never gave his name, though. Always dodged around it with a cheeky “What’s in a name, anyway?”
In return, Damian refused to give his own.
“Let me guess,” the guy teased once, “you’re, like, some mysterious art dealer.”
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Lost in the Void, Found in the Stars | Damian Wayne Oneshots
FanfictionExactly as the title suggests. Lots of rare-pairs to heal my multi-shipper heart. Every fic is centered around Damian, that means they'll love him more than anyone else, if you feel like a character would actually like someone else more, womp womp b...
