Cuppa
A Word: Prompt: the family takes Tim's coffee supply away and he gets his own revenge.
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It starts out as a bad day when Tim realizes he is out of coffee. His container is empty and even the emergency bag he keeps under the bathroom sink is gone. Tim stares at his coffee pot in outrage for far too many minutes before his brain can sort it out. It's Dick or maybe even Jason. They're the only two who would use his apartment and not be considerate enough to warn him when they use the last of his coffee up.
Tim vows revenge. Bloody and painful revenge as he leaves for work. His morning routine is so precisely calculated that Tim doesn't even have the time to stop at a coffee shop for a cup without being late. Something that Tam has worked hard to put the fear of god into him about. To the point where Tim will drag his still bleeding body into the office just to avoid it.
He makes it in with enough seconds to spare to grab a substandard cup from the lobby's coffee pot. It's burnt tasting and far too late to stave off his caffeine headache. Dick and Jason will pay dearly for it.
His headache hasn't subsided by the time he makes his way to the employee lounge and its food carts for a brief lunch. He stares at the inexpensive coffee cart that usually makes a pretty good mocha in dumbfounded surprise. "Tea?"
Manuela shrugs. Blasé like a person only gets when dealing with a very specific side of Bruce's public mask. "Your little brother insisted," she says. Her accent thickening as she talks about Damian, whom the woman absolutely adores for some inexplicable reason Tim's never been able to understand. "He said he had a point to prove and would cover any losses. There really hasn't been much profit loss though. Everyone seems to like it."
This isn't a single event, Tim realizes as he backs away. A burning anger stoking slowly to life. This is a concerted attack from multiple people and all aimed at him. His brothers are going to pay for this.
Bruce is going to pay for it too.
Tim nearly laughs as he stares at the bag of coffee he's been pouring into the pot all day. The standard brand WE provides to its employees that Tim's avoided as much as humanly possible until that day. When his meetings have been too close for him to run to Starbucks and every intern he's sent has been swallowed alive by the building. Never to be seen again. And, now, this.
Decaffeinated. The bag proudly displays in the smallest letters possible.
Tim's head throbs as he drops the bag and his head to the counter. They're going to pay. All of them. Every last member of his sadistic family.
Alfred greets Tim's arrival at the manor with a perfectly fixed cup of coffee. Tim sighs as he drains it. Feeling a euphoric rush as the blessed liquid rushes through his system. "You may live," he intones and ignores the amused cast of Alfred's face as he leaves the kitchen. Tim's got a revenge mission to enact and not a lot of time to pull it off.
Damian is livid. The boy is almost purple as he enters the kitchen where Tim is communing with the cheap coffee pot they all use. The elegant presses behind it reserved for Alfred's use only. "Drake! What have you done to my bed?"
Tim's stuffed the entire thing with crackers and salt. Which normally would have earned him Alfred's ire but Tim had already ordered a replacement mattress and sheets. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why? Something wrong?"
Damian growls and Tim can see crumbs of crackers in his hair. Something gritty that might be salt in the crease of his neck where it has to itch like crazy. Tim smiles blandly and takes a sip of coffee.
Dick wanders out of the pantry before Damian can let loose with a tirade. He looks wounded and sad as he wraps Tim up in a hug. His voice wheedling and contrite as he looks for pity. "I'm sorry, little brother."
Tim smiles and pats Dick on the back. Amused all over again at the older man's dependence on crunchy cereal and still not feeling the least bit merciful. "I still have no idea what you're going on about Dick."
His phone goes off again. Buzzing across the counter in an angry dance that probably perfectly reflects the increasingly profane messages Jason's leaving him. Something about blanks and Nerf toys which Tim also knows nothing about.
Tim drinks his coffee and smiles at his brothers. Wondering how Bruce is handling the all day long string of press statements about charities that Tam is in charge of making the man sit through.
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