Work Text:
“Large iced soy caramel macchiato upside down, two pumps of vanilla syrup, low fat whip, topped with cinnamon.”
Jason suppresses a twitch of irritation as he takes down the extravagant order. He is not the type of person who enjoys specialty coffee nor the kinds of people willing to shell out for these overpriced froufrou drinks. Gotham Grinders markets itself as the “local” option that “cares about the community” (in opposition to the franchised shops scattered around the campus), which both allows it to charge extra for its drinks and to pay extra for its wages. They have the best paid baristas in the whole county, and it’s only a five minute drive from his one-room apartment. Hence why Jason had fought tooth and nail to get employed here, despite hating every waking minute he spends in this pretentious hellhole.
Speaking of pretentious… the man in front of him flashes a ten at Jason with a wink and slips it into the tip jar. Despite how desperately he needs the money, the “thank you” he mumbles out in return is icier than the macchiato he’s about to make.
“Aw, Jay, don’t be like that!” the man in question whines at him adding to Jason’s rapidly building headache, “Tell you what. You write your phone number on that mug and I’ll slip a Benji in your jar.”
The asshole winks again. Even if the man was serious (which there’s no way he could be, even the frat kids going through school on their parents' dime that could afford to drink coffee here didn’t have enough to spare cash for something as large as that) Jason isn’t sure if he would accept or not.
Dick was one of their regulars. And yes, that was his real name. The first time he’d asked Jason to write it on his cup Jason had given him a death glare until the man had whipped out a driver’s license to prove it. ‘Richard John Grayson’, printed right there. It hadn’t been an innuendo after all, just an unfortunate choice of nickname. He came into Gotham Grinders (and hell if Jason hadn’t heard enough innuendos about that name to make up for any lack of innuendo in Dick’s own) every Tuesday and Friday, which happened to always be Jason’s shifts. Every time he asks for some new over-the-top order, and every time without fail he also asks for Jason’s digits. Jason replies every time with:
“I’m sorry sir, we can’t give out personal information to customers. Will that complete your order?”
“You win some you lose some,” Dick says sighing and running a hand over his perfectly quaffed hair. “I guess that’s all. For now.”
Dick grins and flashes his baby blues up at Jason. The room suddenly feels a little too warm. Turning away from the weight of Dick’s gaze Jason busies himself with the cash register as he rings up the complex order. The final price of the single coffee is two days of Jason’s grocery budget.
Dick’s thumb bushes against the side of Jason’s palm when he hands over his payment. A shudder runs through him at the contact and he almost drops the money on the counter. He pulls away, rushing to put the money in the till, avoiding Dick’s gaze and mentally chastising himself. Just because Jason hasn’t gotten laid in months (two part-time jobs, volunteer work necessary if he wants to get into a med program in the future, and an overly stuffed course load didn’t exactly leave time for a social life) doesn’t mean that he should be getting all flustered over some pretty boy frat guy just because he touched his hand.
Freckled face aflame he hands over Dick’s change.
“You want to hear a joke?” Dick asks him as he pockets the money.
“No,” Jason replies, but he doesn’t expect that will actually stop him from hearing one.
“What’s a barista’s favorite workout to do at the gym?”
Jason tries not to squirm as he feels Dick’s gaze roaming over his chest and biceps, as if there’s some clue there. When his eyes finally snap back to Jason's face, Dick’s looking at him expectantly. Jason stays silent.
“The french press!” Dick finally answers for him after enough time has passed in silence to make things awkward.
Jason doesn’t react but the blonde girl in line behind Dick snorts.
“See, she gets it! I’m funny. And I’ve got a lot more where that came from you know.” Dick leans over the counter as he’s speaking, and suddenly Jason is finding him much too close for comfort.
“Excuse me,” he replies, stone faced, and quickly makes a retreat to the backroom before Dick can say or do anything else. Once he’s out of view of the customers he groans, running a palm over his face.
“I’m taking my break,” he tells Roy who is leaning against a supply shelf busied with his phone. He isn’t even on break, just dodging responsibility. “Can you take care of the order that just came in for me?”
Roy’s gaze travels from where it’s absorbed in his phone up to Jason’s face. He raises an eyebrow in a way that makes Jason nervous.
“Dick’s order?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Jason answers slowly, “How did you-”
“Your face is as bright as your stupid motorcycle helmet, my man. When are you gonna stop playing coy and just go out with him already?” Roy gives him a ‘look.’
Jason grits his teeth.
“Shut up. I am not going to go out with him. Just go make the damn drink.”
Roy grins knowingly as he pockets his phone, placing a comforting (and unwanted) pat on Jason’s arm as he passes him into the cafe front. Jason flips him the bird and then slinks out the back door.
Sinking down onto an empty milk crate he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. A little bit of his stress melts away after he takes the first puff. He needs to forget about Dick and his warm hands and his pretty blue eyes and stupid puns and his overly generous tips. Following Roy’s lead he pulls out his phone, hoping to find something mindless to distract himself. What he finds instead is a blinking notification of a missed call from his boss - his other boss, for his other job. His shoulders tense and he quickly redials.
Fuck.
Goddamnit.
Jason just narrowly stops himself from throwing his phone on the ground in anger when the call ends. A repair bill is the last thing he needs right now since he’s just lost half of his income source. Apparently his schedule “wasn’t flexible enough” compared to his coworkers. It doesn’t matter that he dedicated nearly every second of his free time outside of his other obligations to them, to the point that he has no social life to speak of. It doesn’t matter that Jason had worked a graveyard shift and gotten no sleep the night before his organic chemistry midterm because they’d asked him to come in suddenly. No, that isn’t enough flexibility for them. He needs to be at their beck and call every second of every day.
Standing up he growls, rounding on the milk crate and punting it as hard as he can. He imagines it’s his (ex)boss’ face.
“Ow! What did that poor box ever do to you?”
Startled, Jason looks up to see none other than one Dick Grayson leaning down to rub at his shin where the crate has just smashed into him full force. He winces when he touches it.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry!”
Jason runs over to help him. Just what he needs. With his luck he’ll probably lose this job too for assaulting a customer.
“I hope you weren’t aiming for me on purpose,” Dick jokes as Jason drags the crate over and helps Dick settle down onto it to take the weight off his leg. “If so you’re taking this ‘playing hard to get’ thing a little bit too far, ya know?”
“I wasn’t aiming for you,” Jason tells him matter-of-factly as he crouches down and gently starts to roll Dick’s pant leg up. He prays the injury won’t be too bad. Jason is strong, even if he doesn’t have as much time to go to the gym now as he would like, and he knows his kick carries a lot of force behind it.
He looks at the exposed shin in front of him. A little bit of a bruise is already forming. Hopefully that’s all it is. Gently he presses his fingers into the edges of the ridge of the tibia.
“Does this hurt?” he asks, still focusing on the leg and testing his fingers over the rest of the bone, being careful not to push on the bruised areas.
“Just a little,” comes the reply.
“I think it’s just bruised. You should be fine. You can take a few over the counter painkillers later if it keeps bothering you.”
“Wow, you’re a natural at this, huh?”
Jason whips his head up and meets blue eyes that both pull him back into the moment and also make him completely flustered.
“I volunteer at a clinic in Park Row. So I’m kind of used to this…” he says flushing. He’s too used to it apparently, so much so that he’d forgotten now just who it is he was working on. “Anyways I think you’ll be okay. Um. Sorry for... kicking a crate at you. I didn’t know anyone was there.”
Jason finishes the last sentence sheepishly, secretly hoping Dick won’t tell his manager about this. He tugs the pant leg back down as if to hide the evidence.
“What exactly are you doing back here anyways?” he asks after he finishes his task, suddenly suspicious.
“Your buddy Roy told me you were waiting here for me.” Dick flashes him a small smile that Jason definitely did not find adorable. He was going to kill Roy for this.
“Well, he lied,” Jason finally replies irritably. Hopefully Dick hadn’t had high expectations. He may be annoying, but Jason felt damaging the man both physically and emotionally within the span of five minutes was a bit much.
Surprisingly, Dick just laughs in response.
“I kind of figured that was the case. I didn’t think it would hurt my chances to come and check though. Although I have to say getting assaulted by a milk crate was unexpected. You wanna tell me what that was all about? I don’t piss you off that much, do I?”
Dick’s expression looks sincere, another kind smile resting on his face. It was nothing at all like the flirtatious smirks and winks that he usually offered Jason. Maybe that’s why Jason finds himself answering honestly. Or maybe he just needs some condolences after the shitty news he’s received.
“I just found out I lost my job,” he admits, eyes making contact with Dick’s knee instead of his face. The confession is more embarrassing than he thought, even if it was due to his schedulability and not lack of skill.
“What, no way! Why? I’ll fight for you! You’re the only one who ever gets my orders right one hundred percent of the time. Roy forgot my cinnamon! They can’t do this to you.”
Jason looks back up to find fire raging in those blue eyes. He isn’t certain if it is directed at the lack of cinnamon, Jason’s predicament, or both, but Jason’s chest feels a little warm hearing Dick’s outrage on his behalf, even if it’s misguided.
“Not this job. A different one. I just got a phone call.”
“I’m so sorry, Jason. Is there anything I can do?”
A soft hand lands on his shoulder in a comforting gesture, and for once Jason doesn’t pull away from Dick’s touch. Instead he almost leans into it, letting it ground him.
“Not unless you know somewhere that’s hiring and can work around my crazy schedule.” Jason bemoans. The thumb on his shoulder begins rubbing soothing circles into his muscle. It feels nice.
“I might be able to help you out actually. Give me a little time and I can probably get something set up.” Dick sounds almost hesitant as he makes the offer, which is strange because Jason’s never heard anything but boisterous confidence from the man before. He oddly feels like he’s seen more of Dick in these past few minutes than he has in the months since he started working at the coffee shop. Even more surprising is the offer though.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. If you don’t mind commuting downtown to Wayne Tower.” Dick bites his lip as he says it. Jason doesn’t understand why he seems so uncomfortable all of the sudden. He hopes he isn’t being played.
“You have an in at Wayne Enterprises?” Jason responds incredulously. Wayne Enterprises was known for taking really good care of it's employees. If he could get any position there he would be set. Not to mention it would look good on his future resume and med school apps. He really hopes Dick is telling the truth and isn't just trying to woo him.
“Yeah, my dad kind of owns it…” Dick replies, and certainly Jason didn’t hear that right.
“Owns it?”
“Yeah.”
“Your dad is Bruce Wayne?”
“Yeah.”
Holy fuck. Well, that certainly explained how he afforded all those ridiculous overpriced coffees then. Jason’s mind flickers back to a promise of a hundred dollar tip and now he wonders if Dick was serious.
“We’re kind of fighting right now though,” Dick continues on, sounding a bit embarrassed to be admitting it. “If you can wait a bit until I’ve had a chance to work things out with him, I can ask him to find something for you. Just let me know what kind of work you want to do.”
It sounded too good to be true, but when Jason searched Dick’s face he found nothing but sincerity staring back at him. He's a bit surprised by this new side of him he's seeing. Jason always thought that Dick was some pompous, self-centered, airhead frat guy, but now here he is offering to help Jason out. After Jason's just assaulted him no less.
“That would be amazing. Thank you. I can’t believe you’d stick your neck out for me like that, you barely even know me.”
“Well, maybe we could rectify that over dinner tonight? My treat of course.”
The flirtatious smirk is back, accompanied by a pair of raised eyebrows. For once, Jason isn’t annoyed by the sight.
“That would be great. Let me give you my number.”