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Jason Todd had been six hours into his night shift and had already decided that the world, in general, was a bad idea.
The convenience store was nearly empty, lit by flickering fluorescent tubes that buzzed like they, too, wanted to quit. Outside, the night was thick and silent; inside, the coffee had been burning for hours, and Jason survived on cheap sugar and sheer stubbornness. There was a questionable stain on the floor, and the wall clock moved with criminal slowness.
When the door chime rang, Jason didn’t even look up from the register.
“Aisle three if you’re looking for alcohol,” he muttered. “And if you’re here to rob the place, make it quick. I’m tired.”
“Such efficiency,” a pleasant voice replied. “I feel very well taken care of.”
Jason lifted his gaze, ready to fire back another sarcastic remark—and stopped.
The man in front of him was tall, far too good-looking for three in the morning, wearing an immaculate dark coat and sporting blue eyes that seemed amused by absolutely everything. He smiled like working the night shift in a miserable convenience store was the most interesting thing he’d seen in centuries. Too attractive for a place that smelled like cheap disinfectant. Jason gave him a quick, unimpressed scan.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet,” the man said, wandering the aisles as if he had all the time in the world.
Richard—or Dick, in Jason’s mind, because that was his name; he said it later as if it were an irrelevant detail—drifted through the store without hurry, picking up random items that didn’t seem to go together. Jason watched him out of the corner of his eye, noticing things despite himself: the way he moved with complete confidence, how he didn’t seem eager to leave, how his eyes kept returning to Jason.
He grabbed a few things at random: a bottle of water, some cookies, a chocolate bar. Nothing urgent. Nothing necessary. Jason sighed as he rang him up.
“Rough shift?” the man commented.
“Always is,” Jason replied while scanning the items. “Night brings out the worst in people. And the weird ones.”
“And which category do I fall into?”
Jason looked at him for a second longer than necessary.
“Haven’t decided yet.”
Dick laughed, genuinely delighted, and the sound loosened something in Jason’s chest, though he didn’t know why. He was tired. Too tired to analyze it, to wonder why someone like that was here, or why the conversation felt so easy.
When Dick leaned slightly over the counter, lowering his voice, Jason was already lost.
“Would you like to grab a coffee when you get off? I promise it’ll be better than what you’ve got here.”
Jason stared at him in silence. Then he scoffed.
“That’s it?”
Dick blinked.
“Sorry?”
“I don’t know you,” Jason said flatly. “Not your last name, not whether you’re a creep, not whether you collect dolls or murder people on weekends. And you go straight for a date.”
Dick smiled, amused.
“I could be charmingly mysterious.”
“You could try harder,” Jason shot back. “This isn’t a romantic comedy. Come back when you’ve got better material.”
He expected awkwardness. Or a defensive comment. Or for the guy to leave, offended.
Instead, Dick straightened up, as if he’d just received very clear instructions.
“Understood,” he said with complete seriousness. “I’ll be back.”
“Sure you will,” Jason muttered as he handed him the change.
Dick left the store like he’d just accepted a formal challenge.
Jason forgot about him five minutes later.
♡
Dick came back the next day.
And the next.
And the one after that.
Always after midnight. Always with a different excuse: water, coffee, something sweet, nothing at all. Jason rang him up with the same chronic exhaustion and razor-sharp sarcasm.
“You’re still here,” Jason said on the twelfth night.
“You told me to try harder.”
“I didn’t think you’d take it literally.”
“Common mistake,” Dick replied with a smile, still charming as ever.
They talked about small things. Insignificant things. The weather, weird customers, how useless the store’s coffee was. Jason wasn’t impressed by anything, and Dick seemed to enjoy that more than anything else.
“Does nothing surprise you?” Dick asked one night.
“Not at this hour,” Jason answered. “Life lowered my expectations.”
Dick looked at him like that was fascinating.
As the days passed, Jason started recognizing the sound of the door chime before seeing him. Saving a specific sarcastic comment just for him. Not questioning why he always looked so well-rested. Or why he never bought hot food.
He didn’t give it much thought.
When Dick finally leaned his elbow on the counter and said,
“So? Did I earn that coffee? or dinner if you feel it's better.”
Jason sighed, tired, worn down by sheer persistence.
“…Fine,” he said. “But if you turn out to be weird, I’m getting up and leaving.”
Dick smiled like he’d been waiting centuries to hear that.
♡
The castle's massive oak door was opened by a pale hand. his eyes a deep blue and his expression filled with almost boyish anticipation as he said, “Welco–”
"Left me standin' there long enough," grunted Jason as he shouldered his way past him. "Do you know how friggin' cold it is tonight?"
"No, not really," replied his host, amused by his abrupt tone. "May I take your coat?"
Jason handed him the long brown coat as he took stock of the grand hall. A crystal chandelier bathed the towering room in golden light. Every wall was covered in ornate decorations -- paintings the size of doors, three-story tapestries, and life-size marble sculptures lined the walls.
But Dick had eyes only for his new companion. His simple black t-shirt was stretched thin from use. His necklace was plain, his hair tossed around by the wind, and his well-worn boots only boasted a short, square heel.
He wasn't trying to impress anyone, and Dick loved it.
"I saw a bunch of crap like this in a museum once," Jason offered as he moved to a mirror, adjusting his wet covered bangs. "Their paintings were bigger, though."
"Oh, I'm sure I have one or two things here you haven't seen before," Grayson announced dramatically as he intentionally moved behind him.
Jason was adjusting his bangs in the mirror when he suddenly stopped. His eyes searched for Dick’s reflection. There was nothing. Only the wallpaper behind him.
Jason made a face of pure disgust.
"Oh, no. Don't tell me you're a magician. I hate magicians. One tried to pay for a pack of cigarettes with a coin he pulled out of my ear once. I almost broke his hand.”
Dick felt his (technically dead) heart skip a beat as he watched him hobble across the hall towards the dining room.
"C'mon, I'm starving," Jason barked over his shoulder.
The dining room was a sprawling cavern of mahogany and silver. At the center of the table sat a feast that looked like it had been staged for a Renaissance painting—except for the steaming, overflowing bowl of pasta that smelled aggressively of roasted garlic.
Jason pulled out a chair that probably cost more than his college tuition (not that he had any) and sat down with a heavy thud.
"If I get botulism, I’m suing you," Jason said, picking up a silver fork and inspecting it for spots. "I don't care if you live in a haunted house. I have a lawyer friend who’s even scarier than anything you’ve got in the basement.”
"I assure you, the food is safe," Dick said, gliding to the head of the table. He didn't sit; he hovered, his eyes tracked Jason’s every movement with a hunger that had very little to do with the pasta. "Alfred takes great pride in his work."
"Alfred, huh? Is he the one who forgot to fix the heating in the hallway?" Jason took a massive bite of the pasta. He chewed, eyes narrowing. "Okay. Fine. It’s good. It’s better than the gas station burritos."
"High praise," Dick murmured, leaning his chin on his hand. "I’m breathless."
"You haven't touched your plate," Jason pointed out, waving his fork at Dick's empty setting. "What, is the 'mysterious billionaire' thing also a 'disorderly eater' thing? Or are you just one of those guys who likes to watch people eat? Because that's a five-out-of-ten on the creep scale."
Dick’s smile faltered just a fraction. He straightened his silk waistcoat, his expression shifting from 'playful' to 'solemnly dramatic.' He decided it was time for the reveal. He wanted the gasp. He wanted the wide-eyed realization so he let his eyes glow a predatory red and his fangs slide down, peeking over his lower lip.
"Jason," Dick began, his voice dropping an octave into a velvety, ancient register. "Did you not notice the mirror in the hall? The way the candles don't cast my shadow? The fact that I have been pursuing you for weeks and haven't so much as blinked?"
Jason swallowed a mouthful of garlic bread. "I noticed you’re a weirdo, Dick. I noticed the mirror thing five minutes ago. I figured it was a trick of the light or you’re a ghost. Are you a ghost? Because if you’re a ghost, this date is over. I don't do 'unfinished business'."
"I am not a ghost," Dick said, standing up and moving with a speed that was blur-like, appearing right next to Jason’s chair in a heartbeat. He leaned down, his fangs lengthening just slightly more, his eyes glowing a faint, predatory red. "I am a child of the night. A predator who has walked this earth for centuries, hunting, waiting... and I have chosen you."
Jason stared at the fangs. He looked at the glowing eyes. Then, he looked back down at his pasta.
"Okay," Jason said flatly. "I see."
Dick blinked. The red glow dimmed in confusion. "...'Okay'?"
"Yeah. Vampire. Got it," Jason said, stabbing a cherry tomato. "Explains the lack of reflection, the pale skin, and why you were hanging out at a 24-hour convenience store at 3 AM like a moth to a lightbulb. It also explains why you haven't touched the garlic pasta. Sucks for you, honestly. It’s top-tier."
“Jason,” he said slowly, incredulously, “I just admitted I survived by drinking blood. You should be terrified,” he insisted, almost frustrated. “I’m the thing people pray doesn’t exist. I could end you in seconds.”
"Buddy, I’ve had customers threaten to curse my bloodline because we were out of Diet Coke," Jason shot back, finally looking up with a smirk. "You’re just a guy with a tooth problem and a very expensive hobby of stalking retail workers. If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve done it between the Pringles and the lottery tickets. Now, sit down. You're hovering, and it's annoying."
Dick stood there for a moment, his dramatic reveal thoroughly deflated. Then, he started to laugh—a bright, ringing sound that echoed off the vaulted ceiling. He pulled out the chair next to Jason and sat, watching the human with genuine adoration.
"You are," Dick said, "the most refreshing thing I have encountered in two hundred years."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm a delight," Jason muttered, though a small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "So, what’s the deal? You can't eat food? You just drink... what, O-negative on the rocks?"
"Roughly speaking," Dick admitted. "Though I have a preference for the willing."
"Well, don't look at me. I'm mostly caffeine and spite. You'd get a migraine," Jason said. He leaned back, patting his stomach. "But hey, look on the bright side. We both hate the sun, we both stay up all night, and we both have a taste for expensive things we can't afford—well, I can't afford them. You just steal them from history, apparently."
Dick leaned in, his blue eyes sparkling again. "So, does this mean there will be a second date? Or have I failed again?"
Jason looked at the vampire—the ridiculous, beautiful, ancient dork who had spent twelve days buying bottled water and pringles just to talk to him.
"The food was good," Jason said, standing up and stretching. "And you’re less annoying than a robbery. I guess you can show me the rest of your 'museum' before the sun comes up. But if you try to turn into a bat and fly me around, I'm punching you in the throat."
"Deal," Dick beamed.
and so, eight centuries on this Earth. Hundreds of lovers and twice as many victims. But only now, in the form of a cranky thirty-year-old, had Dick found love.