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It was the Demon Child's fault.
Yes, Jason helped himself to Alfred's morning tea without consulting the older man but they'd established years ago that Jason didn't need to. He took leaves from the jar and when it was empty he told Alfred, who pulled out the backup jar. It became the main just add they waited for the new backup jar of loose leaves to arrive, ensuring that they never ran out of tea.
It wasn’t like he drank it often, either. It was bracing, to say the least and Jason only really dug into it when he wasn’t going to sleep the night. He’d wanted to go over suit designs with Bruce. Tim had offered to help with names but when he’d suggested Red Robin Jason knew that he wouldn’t be finding any actual help in that corner.
So Jason needed to be awake and alert and coffee was nerds like Replacement. When Jason hadn't been able to scrape enough leaves for a pot from the main jar he'd gone for the backup.
Which was also empty.
He'd grabbed his cell and called Tim. It went to voicemail. "Call me. Now. Or you're grounded."
It didn't take long for Tim to call him back. "You can't actually ground me," Tim grumbled, tinny music filtering from behind him. "We're living with Bruce again. He’s got grounding authority."
"One," Jason said grimly, "I'm still being paid to watch your dumb ass, and two, " Jason said, spreading over Tim's scoff, "I said I was going to ground you if you didn't pick up the phone. If you drank all of Alfred's tea I'm going to kill you out of mercy. "
"Hold on," Tim said quietly. There was fumbling and the music became louder and something Jason recognized. "Everyone is here."
"Are you assholes playing Halo without me?"
"Yes, because we’re trying to teach Damian you are a screen watcher." Dick accused. Which was true but it wasn't Jason's fault he could multitask. “More importantly, you said Alfred’s out of tea. Morning tea or evening tea?” Dick’s tone was somber. He knew how serious the situation was.
“Morning.”
“How did this even happen…?” Replacement whispered in soft horror.
Damian huffed. “Father’s servant should be fired. The man allowed the tea store to be empty for over a week. Grandfather would have had him executed for such an oversight.”
The music cut out as the air was sucked from the entire Manor.
“Damian,” Dick said slowly, over enunciating every word, “did you drink the second jar of tea?”
“Tt,” And Jason didn’t need to see the brat to know what face he was making. “I was hardly going to sully myself by sharing tea with the help, or worse, Todd. ”
“We’re dead,” and Tim’s breath was coming out in jagged puffs. “Actually dead.”
Damian huffed. “Are you to tell me that Father’s orphans are afraid of the help?”
“You dumb ass shit eating punk,” Jason snarled. “Alfred’s kill count is higher than mine.”
There was a large silence followed by a small “oh.”
“Yeah, fucking ‘oh.’” Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re so fucked.”
“We could move. Start new lives. I have safehouses set up and some passports already. He’d never find us.” Tim offered but from the undercurrent of hysteria underpinning that the kid had no idea if Alfred would be able to follow them.
“Or,” Dick countered, “we could just run to the grocery store and buy some more.”
“It’s Alfred’s tea,” Jason stressed since Dick had obviously taken too many blows to the head. “Walmart isn’t going to have it laying around.”
And Dick, damn cheery Dick, responded, “Yeah, but he gets it from a local shop in the West Harlow. We’ve got enough time to swing by and pick some up tonight.”
“How do you even know this?”Tim asked incredulously.
“Oh, he once took me to pick some up.”
-
“You!” pointed a heavy set Chinese woman, “Are banned!”
Dick flashed his most charming smile. “Mrs. Yuán! I’ve grown up and I promise-”
“That you will get out of my store! You are banned forever.” She glared and her hand slipped beneath the counter, obviously reaching for something, and probably something with a trigger.
While Dick wasn’t a born and bred Gothamite, he’d been adopted into this city and knew when a fight was lost. “I’ll be in the car!” He promised, ducking out of the store with a flourish.
Leaving Tim alone with Jason and Damian and no idea of where Alfred’s tea was. Honestly, Tim didn’t know where anything was.
He’d never been in a grocery store before.
“Is this how the masses acquire food? How quaint,” Damian sniffed disdainfully. “It is no wonder Grandfather seeks to rule them.”
Jason sighed. It was the same sound he’d made when Tim had put the cast iron pan in the dishwasher, like he was inching his way back towards the grave. “Gremlin, you’re with me. You bite anyone I shoot you, got it?”
Damian huffed but nodded. Damian had tried to knife Tim and Jason had pegged him with a rubber bullet in the forehead as a warning, one that Damian had seemingly taken to heart. Especially since Tim and Jason’s denials had overruled Damian’s accusation. He’d been the one to end up grounded when he’d started the story with, “I was trying to murder the Pretender and-”
“Fucking Dick didn’t even tell us where to look. What a Dick.” Jason shook his head. “Tim,” He turned to Tim, game face on. “We’ll take the tea section, you take the bulk aisle. Call me if you find anything.” Without waiting for a response, Jason strode off, dragging a snarling Damian behind him.
Well, Tim had his mission.
But...what the fuck was the bulk aisle?
With a surreptitious glance to the side, making sure that no one had noticed him, Tim pulled out his phone.
Buying, Bulk he punched into the search bar.
Costco.
Costco.
Bulk Barn.
Costco.
Well, that did absolutely fuck all to help. Unless this store had managed to magically stuff a fucking Costco into one of its aisle Jason had meant something else.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
He could call Dick? Maybe? Just a quick ‘hey Dick, what’s a bulk aisle please don’t tell Jason I had to ask?’ Like, possibly Dick wouldn’t use it as blackmail?
Dick would definitely use it as blackmail.
Which meant the only thing Tim was left to do was look. He could do that. He was a fantastic detective. He figured out who Batman was when he was nine. He could solve this riddle no problem.
So, aisles. They all seemed to have semblance of organization, which made sense. Gotham was chaotic but for the most part there was some method to it. There were also signs. Written in Chinese. Which would be great if they were in the traditional characters of Cantonese, which Tim knew, and not the simplified of modern Mandarin, which Tim fucking did not.
He resorted to poking his head down each aisle, a quick glance to help him ascertain its contents. It was actually pretty neat and there was so much stuff. There was an entire noodle aisle, a rice isle, imported snacks and sweets, imported beverages, what Tim assumed was basic baking stuff. The packaging looked like some of the crap Jason dug out when he made muffins. He spotted Jason frowning at a box in his hand and skipped over that one. Obviously the tea aisle.
It wasn’t until he stumbled across carb central, breads and asian buns, that he came across anything different.
An entire wall had been dedicated to rows and rows of containers. At the top were square containers with black handles and a downward spout. The rows beneath them were squares shaped like thrones, the part that would be the seat teh lids where they opened, scoops sheathed at their sides.
It wasn’t Costco, but maybe?
Upon further inspection, it did look to be the type of place where one would find tea leaves. The containers were labelled in both Mandarin and English, thank fucking god, and some of the stuff Tim could recognize on his own. He never would have pegged the chia seeds, but the chocolate chips were at least pretty fucking obvious.
Now the problem was narrowing it down. There were dozens of containers that lacked any sort of organization. They weren't alphabetized, arranged by color, or by price.
Tim was literally going to have to check each fucking pod.
Great.
Fucking Damian.
Tim was going to drug the little monster, duct tape him to his own bed and leave him there until he escaped on his own or Bruce found him.
It wouldn't be hard to ensure that the crime was never tied back to Tim.
Tim's eyes bounced from label to label, freezing when he spotted one that was painfully familiar.
The forbidden drink.
Coffee.
Sweet life-giving coffee.
Jason had cut off Tim's supply because he was a fucking sadist. His quips about healthy teen diets and the benefits of tea were just thin disguises for Jason's pleasure at being a controlling asshole. Tim had expected the status quo to return once he started staying in Manor again but Jason had something over Alfred.
It was the only explanation for Alfred's efforts to keep Tim coffee free.
But coffee came from somewhere and that somewhere was here.
Tim had to have it.
He stared at the container. It was one of the ones with the downward spout and the plastic handle, obviously a switch of some kind. The stack of brown paper bags by the...was that a coffee grinder? He could grind the beans here?
Amazing!
He slid past the stock boy and his trolley and grabbed one of the bags, unfolding it so it held its rectangular shape.
The container was a little high but Tim could reach it if he stood on the tips of his toes. He just needed to get in close and… there! He pulled the switch down and heard rushing of beans into a bag. A wide grin split across his face.
Jason could go fuck a porcupine.
Then there was a tap against his hip. Just enough to make him shift. Instinctively Tim curled his hand around the switch as he slid, falling to the floor.
The switch broke off in his hand and he landed on his knees in a literal shower of coffee beans. “No! Fuck!” He scrambled to stand, to plug the bottom of the container but his feet slid on the linoleum and beans. More coffee rained down upon his head, bouncing off his hair, getting caught in the neck of his shirt, falling to floor to because wasted shadows of what they should have been.
Tim had always wanted to be on a mountain of coffee but not like this.
Never like this.
“Oh fuck,” came the whisper from behind and Tim turned to look at the pale stock boy, the one who had hit Tim with his cart.
Fuck indeed. Tim struggled to his feet, trying to draw upon the shattered remains of his dignity. “I will give you a hundred dollars for the beans and to pretend this wasn’t me.” That should be enough to cover all the beans, right?
The guy reared back. “You want to give me a hundred dollars?”
Oh. It wasn’t enough? Tim pulled out his money clip, flicking through the bills. He pulled out four one hundred dollar bills. That had to cover the coffee and the silence. If it wasn’t he had more. But coffee from the caffés wasn’t that expensive, right?
So four hundred dollars should do.
He handed the bills to the stock boy who blinked at Tim before quickly pocketing them.
Tim noted the stranger who had watched the exchange. Damn. He probably needed to pay that asshole off too if he didn’t want Jason and Damian to find out this was him. Tim was very rapidly deciding that he did not like grocery stores.
He sighed. Maybe the man was nice and simply wouldn’t tell Jason. After all, strangers don’t talk to strangers and Jason was the fucking strangest person Tim knew. He actually liked Katie Perry, like some kind of freak. She went loud instead of going high! Loud! Not high!
Tim turned to say something to the man and was startled when the guy grabbed his elbow, pulling Tim against his chest.
Huh. Rendering the man unconscious would definitely prevent him from telling Jason because how dare this fucker put his hands on and that was a gun. Against Tim’s temple.
Fucking Gotham.
In another aisle there was a blast and shattering glass. “Everyone on the floor!” yelled voices from across the room. Great. Tim was a hostage in a grocery store hold up.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
This was just as embarrassing as spilling the coffee beans. This guy was an amatuer. He was fucking shaking and Tim couldn’t do anything because poor little Tim Drake was some tragic rich kid.
Poor little Tim Drake was going to very publicly hire the best self defense trainer ever so the next time this happened Tim could kick this shit brain’s balls into his throat.
“I said down!” There was another shot and Tim found himself being readjusted into cliché hostage position, bad guy at his back, arm around his throat, and gun at his head. He was marched forward until he was at the front of the room. There were two other suspects, each carrying. Jason was laying near the counter, a giant tin near his hand-hopefully Alfred’s tea- trapping Damian with his body.
Good. The last thing they needed was someone getting killed.
It would be difficult to explain to Gordon how Bruce’s youngest son murdered three robbers.
The cashier, Mrs. Yuán, glared at them as she threw money into a bag. “You are all banned!” she barked. “I never forget a face.” Her eyes narrowed. “Banned forever.”
“Hurry with the money, bitch!” Her glare intensified. This woman was Gotham down to her bones.
The man closest snatched the bag. “Drop the kid and let’s go!”
“He’s coming with.”
Oh.
Fuck.
This was worse than being a hostage.
Tim was being kidnapped.
Fucking robbers.
Fucking Damian.
Fucking grocery stores.
“Dan, let go of the kid!” ordered the one with the steadiest hands.
Dan, Dan the man whose ass Tim wanted to kick oh so badly, shook his head, stuffed his goddamn hand into Tim’s goddamn pocket. Thankfully, the prick was not just copping a feel and he pulled out Tim’s money clip. “They’re all bennies.”
“Fucking nitwit,” Jason grumbled qiuetly enough that the robbers didn’t hear him, but Tim did and he wanted to kick Jason in the face. It was a store. You brought money to a store. That’s what money was for.
Fuck, Tim hadn’t wanted to come on this stupid trip anyway. He hadn’t drank any of Alfred’s mother fucking tea.
“He comes with us.” Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Tim had homework. He had a project due tomorrow and he was going to have to get a note signed by Commissioner Gordon himself if he didn’t want Miss. Jefferies to fail him for not turning it in complete because he’d been fucking kidnapped.
Tim did his best not to pout as he was maneuvered out of the shop. A white van, because of fucking course, pulled up to the curb and the guy with the steady hands pulled open the door.
The guy with the money dropped in time to the sound of a gunshot.
Dan spun fast enough that Tim tripped and fell to the ground. Another shot went off and Tim curled into a ball and covered his head, not that his hands would protect him from a bullet but staying very still definitely seemed like the best option right now.
“You are all banned!” screamed a woman. The gun fired again and Dan screamed, dropping to the ground beside Tim, who wasted no chance in knocking the gun from Dan’s hand and then elbowing that asshole in the nose.
“You crazy bitch!” And that was steady hands. Tim watched as he lined up his shot, ready to take aim at an exposed Mrs. Yuán, when he dropped like a rock. Behind him stood a beaming Dick Grayson, police officer off duty, with a megawatt smile.
“You alright, Mrs. Yuán?”
She narrowed her eyes at Dick and huffed. “You,” she pointed a finger at him, “are still banned.”
-
The police were, well, Gotham police. They took their sweet time getting to the crime scene and Jason was certain the only reason they’d arrived before midnight was because Dick had called Gordon directly to let him know that the Wayne boys, yes all of them, had been victims of a grocery store hold up/attempted kidnapping. It was very disturbing stuff. Absolutely traumatizing.
Then they’d had to go through the stupid fucking questions and jesus christ Replacement had no life skills. None. He was like a starter pokemon and only knew two moves, stalk and slap, because Tim’s weak little blows couldn’t be called really punches.
Sure, they bruised, but that was beside the point.
The point was that Tim had brought eight thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills to a goddamn grocery store. He had been planning on buying like a pound of coffee with a hundred dollar bill. This place probably didn’t even take hundreds!
And then he had gone and decimated the bulk aisle.
Jason should lord this over Tim, should bring it up on his deathbed but he couldn’t bring himself to. It was just so fucking pathetic.
“Were I the Pretender I would have stabbed them,” Damian announced once they were back in Dick’s car.
“And you would have been grounded because the rules clearly say to go along with kidnappers, Damian,” Dick said sternly. “Tim did the right thing.”
Damian’s face said he disagreed but at least he kept his mouth shut. There was silence for the rest of the ride and the moment they pulled into the garage Tim bolted, probably to go listen to emo music and cry to his emo friends. Or something. Whatever dumb ass kids did when they were publically caught being excruciatingly stupid.
Damian stomped into the house after being ordered to bed by Dick and Jason was fairly certain that it was the being ordered part, not the go to bed part, that Damian took the greatest issue with.
Once they were alone, Dick heaved a sigh, fatigue settling in. “Well, this was a fun night.”
“Yeah.” Jason scoffed. “Barrel of laughs.” His fingers twitched, itching for a cigarette despite the fact he hadn’t had one since coming back. “All this for fucking tea.”
Dick let out a chuckle. “Yeah. But you got it and that’s the important part.”
Jason turned to Dick, stomach churning. “I thought you grabbed it while I was yacking with the cops.”
Dick paled.
Fucking. Damian.
-
“Good morning, Master Bruce. Have you seen my shotgun?”