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That shiny ford cortina, that he never let rust. The coffee pot dripping and hot. Sunday cleaning with Alfred in the manor. Saturday night drives on the outskirts of Gotham. Sharing pumpkin pie, as you fuss over the crumbs on his cheek.
That first day you met, he’d ducked in from the rain. That shaggy brown hair, soaked. His jacket soggy, dirty converse squeaking as he took his spot by the window an booth of course. Today was no different, your co-worker Gerty took his order before sauntering back to you. Her eyebrows waggled and wiggled at you. “He’s here for you princess.” She smiled as she bumped your hip. “Can you get him his coffee, the tinkle train is on its way.” Giggling as she left you to your task. He always got an Americano. A routine you looked forward to when he came in. And he only came in on rainy days. Plating the drink you slipped two frosted biscuits on the side before delivering it to him. “Your Americano.” You gave a warm smile. He nodded, he truly did appreciate you. The first day Bruce came in you’d been the only one working. Swamped during a lunch rush, obviously stressed, making coffee after coffee. He’d been waiting ten minutes by the time you’d gotten to him. You’d apologized profusely, he’d waved it off. He watched you, how at peace you were in those few seconds. Humming as you brewed the americano. Your lips pursing in and out as you thought about nothing or something. He couldn’t tell just that he thought he’d need to come back again. “Here you go sir! Have an wonderful day!” an cherry smile before you rushed off. He spent a few seconds musing on about that sweet smile before leaving an hefty tip.
And since that day he came back when the rain hit the ground.
A somewhat or one sided friendship as you thought it was had formed.