Chapter Text
Tim glared at the stain that sat in front of him on the counter, a wet rag in his left hand. It was about two in the morning, and Tim was sleep deprived and done with life at this point.
For some reason, the owners of the coffee shop had decided to keep it open during the nighttime hours. Which was a ridiculous concept, especially in the city of Gotham.
But Tim needed the hours and the money, so he kept his mouth shut and worked a pretty easy shift most nights. The most exciting thing that had happened so far was a pigeon flying into the front windows, and that happened about a month or so ago.
Staring it down, he brought the rag down upon the stain, and began to rub hard on it, determined to remove the fucker from its place.
“What did that stain ever do to you?” An amused voice came from the other side of the counter.
“Existed,” was Tim’s curt reply, scrubbing at the stain even harder before giving a quick glance up at the person in front of him.
When Tim first got the job as a barista, he was expecting a more laid back job with the only thing that he had to deal with was the Karens that thought her coffee was too hot or didn’t have enough sugar in it.
He wasn’t expecting to take the night shift as a barista.
He wasn’t expecting the amount of vigilante customers that came in.
Dick Grayson, or well, Nightwing stood in front of him, arms crossed and his face plastered with a smirk. Behind him, Red Hood stood with his arms crossed as well, his red helmet covering his entire head like it usually does. Robin stood next to him, his face having its basically permanent scowl.
Tim stood straight, stopping his war on the stain and stared at the three vigilantes that stood in front of him.
“Nightwing,” he greeted, before turning his attention to the other two that stood behind the black and blue vigilante. “Hood, Robin. What can I do for you?”
Hood jerked his head, a usual greeting from the larger man, while Robin just scowled at Tim. Internally, Tim was impressed with how the kid could be able to scowl harder than he was already.
“Oh, you know,” Nightwing said, leaning against the counter with his arms resting on the cool countertop. “We were just in the area.”
Tim stared back with an unimpressed look on his face. “You say that every time you’re in here. Aren’t you a little far from home? You know, since being from Blüdhaven?”
Hood snorted from his spot. “He got you there, Wing.”
Nightwing just waved his hand at Hood, not bothering to look at the man. Even with his helmet, Tim could see the disgruntled look he gave the older man.
“Anyways,” Nightwing chirped as Tim stared impatiently. “I’ll have the pumpkin spice Frappuccino with extra whip and caramel drizzle on top.” Then came the disgusted sounds came from the other two vigilantes before Nightwing turned to face the others. “What do you want?”
“I’ll have Darjeeling with two sugars.” Hood gruffly said.
“Tt. I’ll have earl grey with a dash of cream,” Robin sniffed, crossing his arms across his chest. Tim will never admit it out loud, but the tiny vigilante was just looking adorable. This was from the fear of being skewered like a kabob with the katanas that were strapped to the vigilante. Tim wasn’t stupid.
“That will be fifteen dollars and twenty-eight cents,” Tim stated blandly. Nightwing pulled out a twenty-dollar bill from a pocket that Tim still could not figure out where it resided and handed him it.
“Keep the change.” The cheerful vigilante said, then proceeded to stuff two more twenties into the tip jar. At the beginning, Tim tried to refuse the tip, attempting to return it to the man, before giving up because the tips always ended up back on his person or in his very rundown apartment. Now, Tim just begrudgingly accepts the money, but as a broke college student, he can’t really complain all that much.
“Thanks.” Tim wasn’t all that thankful, but the vigilante wasn’t phased and just smiled brightly. Tim went to the machinery that was behind him and started to create their drinks.
‘So,” Hood drawled, shoving Nightwing over, ignoring the complaints from the other and stared at Tim, who just glanced up at the man. “Timmy, TimTam, Timbers.”
Tim grimaced at the nicknames but didn’t say anything, knowing it was a lost cause similar to the tip jar scenario. But Hood continued, “Whatcha been up to? Anything exciting happen?”
“We haven’t seen you in forever!” Nightwing piped in, jumping and draping himself over one of Hood’s shoulders. Robin just scoffed behind the bodies of muscles that stood before Tim.
“I saw you two days ago.” Tim said, staring at him in disbelief. What the hell was wrong with this man? “Also, you know my shift schedule. And the address of my apartment. Which is really weird, by the way. Very stalkerish.”
Tim was a bit hypocritical on the last statement, but Nightwing just shrugged. Tim narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything and continued with the drinks.
“Earl grey with a dash of cream,” Tim said, putting the steaming to-go cup full of tea on the counter. A small gloved hand came from behind the older two vigilantes and snatched the drink. “And a Darjeeling with two sugars.”
Hood basically threw Nightwing off of his shoulder, making the man land on the ground with a loud grunt, and grabbed the drink.
“Thanks kid.” He gruffly said, holding the steaming cup of black tea to his chest.
“Not a kid.” Tim reflexively said, glaring at the red helmet. A chuckle came from the man, and he leaned over the barrier of the counter, reaching out for Tim who was drizzling out the caramel topping and ruffled his hair.
Tim squawked with displeasure and attempted to bat the hand away, but the vigilante had faster reflexes and managed to avoid the flailing hand.
Once the lid popped onto the top of the drink, Tim basically slammed the drink on the countertop. “One frappuchino with extra whip and caramel drizzle.”
Tim could feel his eye start to twitch. He was so sleep deprived, done with life, and just realized that he still had to write a paper that was due in two days.
FUCK.
Nightwing grabbed his drink before frowning at Tim, a concerned look appeared on his face as he read Tim’s. “You okay, Timmy?”
“Yes.” No. “I am.” Not really. “I’m doing perfectly fine, and nothing is wrong at all. Just a little tired, that’s all.”
All of what he said was a lie, and Tim could tell that Nightwing knew that he was lying, but the vigilante didn’t say a word, just raised a brow in question and concern. Hood, on the other hand, had no humane concept of letting things go.
“Sure Timmers,” the outlaw said, leaning against the wall that stood beside him. Robin, at one point, had taken a seat in a nearby booth and was silently watching the other three beings in the room, occasionally sipping the tea. “I can see those eyebags. Either you are a zombie, which by the way, Halloween has passed, or you are in need of a long ass nap.”
“Lies,” was all Tim replied, but he internally agreed. He needed a ‘long ass nap’, as quoted by Red Hood, but he wasn’t going to admit that. “I am perfectly okay. I definitely get the full eight to ten hours of sleep that is needed.”
Hood snorted, and the white-out eyes of Nightwing’s mask narrowed at Tim. He opened his mouth to interject, but then an explosion happened in the distance, making everyone in the cafe jump up in surprise. Robin jumped out of his seat in the booth and threw away his tea, unsheathing his katanas as he headed to the door.
Nightwing inhaled the entire frappe in ten seconds or so before throwing the empty cup away. Tim watched in what felt like awe or disgust, he wasn’t sure of the feeling. Tim had no idea where Hood’s drink went, but it was clearly on his person since Tim couldn’t see a third to-go cup in the trash.
Nightwing sternly pointed at Tim as the three made their way out of the cafe. “This isn’t over,” he warned. “We will be talking about this.”
Tim stuck out his tongue at Nightwing’s back once it was turned on him. In the blink of an eye, the vigilantes were gone and the cafe was empty once again.
Tim knew that they would be back. Even if it wasn’t tonight, Tim is certain that they will be there at his next shift. It’s usually what happens now, and Tim cannot believe that this was his nightly routine now.
Tim sighed before glaring at the stain on the counter. Now he could resume his war on the stain.
It was fucking on.