I would like to thank my better half, pillage_him_satanael, for the adorable idea of Dick teaching Damian to make coffee. I'll go in depth with the scene next chapter! :)
During the cafe's first month, Dick was by himself. He was fine with that - he didn't need any additional staff just yet. The place was still new and barely had any business. There was a rule to Gotham - fresh blood was usually drained quick enough so no one cared for new businesses.
Two guys tried to rob Dick. He'd almost felt sorry when he'd had to tell them, "Guys my register is literally empty ." They didn't take well to that.
They'd shot him point-blank in the forehead and made a mad dash with his cash register. Dick had waited exactly one minute before sighing and standing, the opened flesh of his head stitching itself back together. He looked desolately at his blood-splattered equipment and groaned, thinking of the conversation he was going to have to have with Bruce.
Not fun.
He found the men easily enough. They were staring at his empty drawer. He hadn't been lying - he wouldn't put any cash in the register yet until he had his first customer.
"I told you." The two men jumped and whirled to face him, guns trained on him. The man who'd shot him gaped, paling like he'd seen a ghost. "No money." He used the walls of the alley (it was always alleys these things happened in) to propel himself over the two men. He dropped behind them and was quick in slicing their throats and sliding his blades between their ribs.
They were dead in seconds.
Dick hefted his register up into his arms with a huff. Using one arm to hold it, he pulled his phone out and dialed Bruce.
"Heeey Bruce." Dick peered at the robbers. "So, there was a tiny issue at my cafe."
Dick had never seen Jason throw up before - but apparently seeing his blood splattered across the wall and kitchen door of his cafe was enough to send him over the edge. Tim and Cass had just shaken their heads while Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose to hide his concern.
The cafe had finally entered its third year when the infamous Joker and Harley Quinn popped in. Joker was a flurry of loud noises and heavy footsteps while Harley was more silent in her approach to the counter.
Fear tactics. They were trying to scare Dick. Behind him, his newest employee (Jessica, her name tag read), gave a faint whimper. Dick waved a hand and he found a grip latched onto his shirt, clenching tightly.
Oh, she was just adorable.
"Hiya sport," Joker cooed as he leaned heavily against the counter, arm up and around Harley's shoulder in support. "Heard this place was nice. Whatcha got that's good?" His eyes slid to Jessica, lightening up at the sliver of fear he saw her direct at him.
"Jessica, go into the kitchen and get started on that cheesecake recipe." Dick didn't look away from Harley or Joker.
"But-"
"Jessica."
Jessica wavered before nodding and scampering into the back. Joker pouted while Harley just tilted her head to the side, studying him.
"What can I get you?" He kept his tone friendly and open, body relaxed. Harley peered closer at him, smile stretching across her painted face.
"Oh Mista J, he's got the loveliest eyes~!" She giggled and batted her eyelashes at Dick. "I think they're gorgeous!"
Joker hummed, reaching a hand out. Dick stayed still as the man's hand touched his cheek, his fingers curling up around his eye.
"Want me to pluck it out for you, Harley dear?" Joker smiled, all crooked teeth and a nasty gleam in his eye. Harley squealed in delight. Joker added pressure to his fingers.
"What can I get started for you?" Dick repeated, not even the slightest bit concerned with the fingers slowly digging into his eye socket. The clowns paused.
"You're no fun," Joker mumbled and withdrew his hand. He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I don't - gimme a coffee? With five sugars and three creams?" He suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable and misplaced. Dick put the order in and stared expectantly at Harley.
"Caaaan I get that Caramel Macchiato thingy?" Harley twirled a pigtail in her hold.
"Our macchiatos are traditional - only the shots of espresso and a dollop of foam," Dick recited with a smile. "Is that alright?"
Harley blinked. "No, the caramel macchiato. Caramel. Macchiato." She spoke it slowly, as if he hadn't heard her. "Y'know, like what Starbucks has."
"Our Macchiatos are traditional - only the shots of espresso and a dollop of foam." Dick stared her dead in the eye. "If you are looking for the Starbucks styled drink, that'll be a caramel vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso."
Harley frowned. "No, I want the-"
The exchange went on for five more minutes before Joker grew bored and raised a hand to silence Harley.
Only to howl when his hand slammed into the counter, knife impaling the back of his hand into the metal countertop .
Harley reeled back in alarm, eyes wide as Joker gripped at the knife's handle. Dick huffed, seemingly put-upon with Harley.
"I'll make you the caramel vanilla latte and you'll like it." He reached over, batted Joker's hand away, and pulled the knife out without any effort. Harley gawked at him, something bright in her gaze, while Joker cradled his hand to his chest.
"Take a seat wherever and I'll have your drinks out in a moment." He tossed a rag at Joker and turned to make the drinks.
Both Harley and the Joker were a little bit in love by the time they left. How could they not be when they'd met a normal (maybe) human who didn't take any bullshit?
That day Dick gained two more regulars.
"Have you thought about renting out the building next door?" Killer Croc had been the one to ask, surprisingly. It was a slow day. Besides him and Two-Face (who all but lived there ), Catwoman was sharing a table with Ivy and Harley. Red Robin was laying face down on the table, a empty energy drink can by his head.
Dick kept sending the vigilante concerned looks. After making sure he was breathing, he turned to the reptile-like man.
"Um. No?" Dick crossed his arms, tapping his chin in consideration. "What would I use it for?"
"You could expand," Harley suggested, curling Ivy's hair through her fingers.
"Maybe?" Dick tilted his head to the side. "I don't really get that busy though."
" A cat cafe !" Catwoman suddenly shrieked, slamming her fists on the table. "You could make a cat cafe!"
"Wha-" Dick's eyes went wide.
"I'll go get the cats!" Catwoman hopped up from the table, the customers looking at her in alarm. "It'll be purrfect !" She rushed out of the cafe.
"She's joking right?" Dick's expression twisted into one of horror. "Oh my god, she's joking, right?"
Silence met his hysterical question.
" SHE'S NOT JOKING!"
Red Robin jolted up with a snort.
Somewhere, Bruce felt a migraine coming on.
[Bruce took one look at his newest ward and fought to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was hauling Jason around like the teen was a doll, keeping him tight to his chest.
"...Dick," Bruce started cautiously. For all the man-handling and bad blood between the two, Jason seemed oddly content in Dick's hold. "Whatcha doing buddy?"
Dick blinked owlishly at the man, moving to position himself between Bruce and Jason.
"Bonding with my new owlet." His voice was blank. Bruce gave in and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.
"...Is Jason okay with this?" He watched as Dick nuzzled his face against Jason's neck. Jason stared blankly at the ceiling, lips pulled into a thin line.
"This is my life now," the crime-fighting teen spoke blandly. "I am oddly okay with this." Dick just nuzzled closer to him, eyes all but daring Bruce to tear them apart.
"Alfred!" Bruce cried out finally. "Dick won't let go of Jason!"
"Oh for heaven's sake."]
The bell chimed as the door closed softly. The air was filled with a buzz from the illuminated light bulbs, making a soft lull sound off like a mother humming.
"You shouldn't be here."
The child leaned back against the handrail of the door, looking out of place.
"It's two in the morning, Owlet." Dick looked up from his book. Damian could make out Emotional Intelligence for Dummies before the man closed his book.
"...can…" Damian shifted his footing. The cafe was empty, surprising him. Even Two-Face's table was empty. It was just Dick.
It was kind of lonely.
"What's up, Damian?"
Damian. Not that title of endearment he was adamant about using. Damian stepped further into the cafe and Dick was quick, launching himself over the counter before the child even knew what was happening. He picked Damian up, depositing him down on the counter top. Eye level with the child, he cocked his head to the side in a owl-like display of flexibility. "Talk."
Damian looked down at his hands, picking at his cuticles. His cheeks heated slightly as he all but childishly swung his dangling legs. He - he made a mistake. He shouldn't have come here. Cold hands cupped his cheeks and Damian's gaze met shocking yellow.
"What's wrong, Owlet?" Damian's shoulders slumped at the familiar name and he leaned into the hold.
"Can you teach me to make coffee?"
His father loved drinking it. Alfred would often lose himself in a conversation about the beans and the temperature of the water and the various types to brew it. Drake wouldn't - couldn't - function unless he all but had the caffeine injected into his veins via IV. Todd and Fatgirl always held a civil conversation if it involved the liquid. Cain, on any given day, could easily be found with a mug of it.
It was a link chain in their family and Damian felt...lost, not being able to drink it.
He could , if he wanted to. He just...disliked the bitterness of it and the man before him was the only one who'd ever made him a drink he didn't immediately dislike or force himself to find a appeal to.
"...You want me to...teach you to make coffee?" Dick's face blanked. He didn't know how to express himself with the sudden request. Damian allowed the man to reconstruct a proper mask of confusion and curiosity.
"Yes." Damian let his eyes drift away from the man. "Please." A cold hand moved to press against his forehead and he scowled. "I'm not sick, Grayson."
"Just making sure. You snuck out at two in the morning to ask me to teach you the tricks of a coffee maker?" Dick bumped their foreheads together for a moment before slipping away from the child. "Come on."
"Where?" Damian hopped down off the counter, watching as Dick flipped off the 'OPEN' LED sign. He locked the front door, turning the lights off.
"To my place. You're going to bed." His tone was solid. There was no arguing out of it. Damian stayed where he was, despite knowing he was facing a battle he could never win.
"Grayson-"
Dick was in his space again in a second, scooping him up. Damian tensed before flailing, snarls escaping him. Dick just tightened his hold and walked the wiggling child towards the kitchen exit. He scaled the fire escape, all but tossing Damian into his open window.
Damian tumbled onto the futon, blinking dazed up at the ceiling. Blankets fell on top of him and Dick sat near the edge of the couch-bed, staring at him.
"I'll teach you tomorrow, Owlet. Sleep now." Damian scowled and opened his mouth to snap. "Please. You need sleep. Exhaustion makes you weak. Being weak isn't an option for you."
The child's mouth snapped shut and he studied the man for a moment before turning on his side. He reached out, wrapping his hand around three of Dick's fingers.
His skin was so cold. Damian squeezed the digits tightly, silently hoping to let his high body heat soak into the icy appendages.
As Damian drifted off, Dick smiled gently. His eyes glowed yellow as he moved to stare into the shadows of his apartment.
If y'all want or need a good Yu-Gi-Oh fic to read, pls read 'A Sketch of Illness' by Yu-Gi-Oooh. It is my favorite fanfic of all time and I just need to share it with you work, okay? Okay.