Chapter Text
Thursday mornings were usually slow and always felt draining by the end of the day. But it always gave you hope for Friday, one of your days off. Just like any other day of the week, you arrived at your place of work just before eight in the morning with a tired expression. You used your foot to push the door open, your hands occupied with two coffees — a weak mocha for yourself and an extra-shot latte for your coworker. Your best friend.
The doorbell chimed above you. Rebecca snorted softly upon your arrival, already moving around the counter to reach out for her coffee with a quiet thanks. “Hun, did you even sleep last night?” She asked, returning to her spot behind the counter where she was scanning in her new stock.
Their workplace was… unique. Definitely the best word to describe it. Downstairs, it was a bookstore with an aesthetic, dim light where Rebecca busied herself. Occasionally, she sells the occasional baked goods and books along with bookmarks she crafted. There were beanbags scattered around, with a few tables and chairs for customers to be seated at.
Upstairs, you had your own dog grooming station. A large table tucked into the corner with a dog washing station to the left. You had two large crates inside in case of any picky owners that didn’t want their dogs meddling with the carefree dogs they allowed to linger downstairs.
Rebecca found the place just as it had been abandoned, and suggested the idea of doing business together with you just over a year ago. Naturally, being best friends since the awkward pre-teen phase, you couldn’t refuse. You both got to have your dream jobs, all while having your own space at it?
“Not really,” you shrugged a shoulder, following behind her as you buried your bag into the cubby. “The puppy I was looking after decided that he needed to pee every two goddam seconds.” A small yawn escaped your lips, showing just how exhausted you felt. The said puppy ran past your legs, running over towards one of the beanbags, crashing headfirst. His owner should be returning today to pick him up. You didn’t usually take in pets, but the older gentleman who owned a thrift store you visited often was heading out of town, and you offered to look after the little dog.
Rebecca cooed softly at you, leaning over to hug you from behind. You weren’t necessarily a touchy person, but you allowed it from her. Physical touch was how your best friend survived.
“You’ll be okay, my dear friend. I’m sure you’ll be able to nap sometime today. The Thursday Curse stays looming over our heads.”
The ‘Thursday Curse’ was something they came up with when they first began the business. Of course, it started off slowly, but with some advertising, their business became successful in Gotham. At least as successful as they could be. They managed to stay busy, making enough money for both of them. Their business bloomed as the citizens realised that when Rebecca flipped that open sign at six AM, suddenly the bookworms of the city wanted to be cozied up with a book and a furry friend to cuddle.
Yet Thursdays were a curse. They rarely had customers; people barely even stopped to look at their store, and the animals even scattered. Why? In the first week of their business, on Thursday morning, one of Gotham’s villains decided to make an attack across the street, and the citizens of Gotham believe in superstitions as much as Batman’s refusal to kill.
But that didn’t bother them too much. It gave them time to catch up on banking and cleaning.
“Eh,” you gathered your hair, letting it stay up with a claw clip, “I like Thursdays. Peace and quiet for me. More time for me to cuddle the pups.” You picked up the Newspaper that was on the counter, reading the headline.
POISON IVY SUCCESSFUL ESCAPE FROM ARKHAM. CAN WE ASSUME THERE IS A RAT IN THE ASYLUM?
“Of course,” you mumbled to yourself, scanning through the article before tucking it under your arm. You grabbed your coffee, glancing over at your best friend. “If you need me, I’ll be up.”
Rebecca nodded, picking her phone up to switch the music to their work playlist and from then on, they went into their usual routines. With Rebecca dusting the shelves and fixing books, helping a customer every so often, you on the other hand, headed upstairs where you did your morning clean. You weren’t as much of a morning person as she was, hence your later start.
Downstairs, the building was almost formed into an L-Shape, with a spot right at the end where the dogs who waited for their owners played. Sometimes they’d sit by customers, their tails wagging with anticipation for a cuddle. Your best friend had a rabbit, one who was four years old - she rescued the poor prey animal from a family that neglected the ball of fluff. Ryder was a black silver martin rabbit with white fur on his stomach. He was full of attitude and enjoyed throwing his tantrums whenever dogs didn’t behave. He was basically you and Rebecca’s boss.
As Rebecca bought up your first dog, you let the small Shih Tzu sniff her way around the room before scooping her up, placing her on your grooming table.
The day went on in a blur, managing to sneak a small nap after your break, but as the buzzer by your door hummed, you made your way downstairs. When they first started the business, Rebecca noticed way too quickly how irritated her throat became from constantly yelling at you, so they installed a buzzer. It didn’t help that trying to yell over the sound of the helicopters that flew by every so often.
As you reached the bottom of the steps, you caught Rebecca perched on her stool with a grin playing in her lips that were hidden behind her coffee cup. She rather quickly averted her gaze over to the book she was reading.
You looked to your left as you noticed a tall, buff man standing there awkwardly. A small, curly, honey-coated dog fidgeted in his arms. He had jet black hair with a patch of white in the front, a jagged scar trailing down his left eye, down to the middle of his cheek. The guy was built like he was either training for the military or a part of some dodgy mafia gang.
The stranger stood still, glancing around the building before his dark blue eyes landed on you. At first, you didn’t say anything. It wasn’t odd that a gruff-looking man like him would arrive with a small dog; you couldn’t even count how many scary mafia-looking men came in with teacup-sized pets, but then you couldn’t help but snort. The puppy was squirming in his grip, making all attempts to escape, and all he could do was hold onto the puppy with an awkward expression. Almost as if the puppy were a disease that he didn’t want to hold too closely.
“You here for a groom?” You question, extending your arm carefully to let the puppy sniff your hand. When the animal did, they relaxed and let you scratch behind their ears.
“Uh, no actually. I found her roaming the streets in an alleyway. She has no collar or anything… and the animal shelter closed since…” he trailed off.
Well, since Harley Quinn stole all the animals due to the “loneliness” of the Joker leaving her (again). You didn’t need to finish that sentence.
“Gotcha. You didn’t wanna take her to the Vets?”
The man’s shoulders dropped. “I sort of just came to the first place I saw. I don’t really know what to do with dogs. My brother recommended you.”
You nodded your head once. Of course, you could help out. “I would probably suggest taking her to the Vets, you don’t know if she’s microchipped or anything. I’m just a grooming service; the most I could do is give her a fresh new haircut.”
Copying your nod, he just stared at the dog for a moment. You lifted your head, expecting him to say anything else but you were met with silence. You moved your lips in a thin line. Not a chatterbox then.
“Do you want—“
“Is there anything—“
You both spoke at the same time, making your ears burn. You became flustered. “You were saying?”
The stranger shifted his weight onto his other foot, clearing his throat. “Is there anything you recommend then at least? While I wait for the Vets?”
Tapping your fingers on your apron, you raised a finger to indicate you’d just be a moment. You headed upstairs as you scooped some dog food, pouring it into a bag. You set some treats in there as well, before heading back down. The man stood in the exact same spot, inspecting the dog. His gaze turned to you with a bit of hope.
“Maybe see if she wants to eat anything; if you found her in an alleyway it may have been a while since she last ate. She might get more comfortable with you that way.”
Suddenly interested in the conversation, as if she wasn’t eavesdropping, Rebecca spoke up.
“There’s an area just around the corner where the other dogs play; maybe she could use some socialising too.”
Giving both of you a nod, the guy took the bag of food and tucked it into his coat pocket. “Thanks for the help.”
Turning around, he headed to the exit, and you could only pinch the space between your eyebrows. You should have headed back up, as Rebecca immediately let out a mischievous giggle.
“Hun— please tell me you saw how attractive that man was.”
“Rebecca,” you started, sighing softly.
“Whaaaat? Can’t a girl admire?” She whistled, "I'm just saying, I wouldn’t mind-“
“Rebecca!”
“Okay!”
She raised her hands in defence, laughing softly. She stayed silent for a second. “I’m just saying you know? He just had really nice arms—“
You turned on your heels immediately, almost racing back up to your space with a head shake. That poor girl was too lonely and needed a boyfriend ASAP, otherwise you thought she might explode with every attractive customer that caught her attention.
Just the other week she talked a big game about asking some girl out, only she stuttered so bad she walked away with shame and you ended up having to cover for her on the tills.
As you approached your grooming table, you cleaned up the fur and got yourself ready for the next, and last, dog.
— 🐕
It was Thursday again before you knew it. This time, you were sitting on the stool behind the counter, your sketchbook opened to a few doodles you were drawing to busy yourself.
Unfortunately, you only had two dogs this morning to groom, and they were the most anxious dogs ever. They tried to bite and would snarl, you tried your best to be as patient as possible. Although it didn’t let time go by any faster.
Your shift usually ended around three, sometimes four. Sometimes even six. Your best friend was a workaholic and thought that sometimes customers would pop in at the last second, so your closing time roughly depended on how exhausted the two of you felt.
To be fair, you didn’t have much to do anyways. You brought your dog in today, a black coated Shepard Staffy, and she was currently keeping herself busy with a customer. Euphy was always seeking cuddles.
Your stomach rumbled as you checked the time on your phone. One o’clock. Maybe you should get some lunch…
A presence in front of you cuts you off from your thoughts, lifting your head to look at the person. You were ready to inform the customer that Rebecca was just at the back cleaning when you noticed it was him. The guy who bought the stray dog last week.
You wouldn’t have noticed it if it wasn’t for that white patch in his hair.
“Oh,” you sat up, “hi. How can I help?”
The male shoved his hands into his pockets. “Hey… this is a bit of an odd request. But I was wondering if you could tell me what brand of food you gave the dog I brought in last week? We found out she’s a pretty picky eater and won’t really eat the food we’re trying to give…”
You had to hold back a laugh. Out of all things, that’s what he came in for?
“Riiight,” you reached out, taking a sticky note from the pile of stationary your best friend had near her computer. You wrote down the details of the dog food, and where to get it. “Here.”
He accepted the note with a nod. No smile, no small talk. Just another quiet “Thanks”. It made you wonder if he was naturally reserved or just uncomfortable around strangers.
“You decided to keep her?” You don’t really know why you asked; to be honest, you couldn’t care less about a stranger's personal life. But you cared for dogs, and knowing the pup was in a new home was enough.
“Yeah,” another nod, “well— actually, a family friend of mine is looking after her.”
“That was sweet of you. D you take her to the Vets?”
“Yes.”
You blinked. “Well, hope that helps with her picky appetite.”
Pocketing the note, he exited without another word. This time you watched him leave with a confused expression on your face. You were only a dog groomer, yet this guy has now come by twice with help for something you couldn’t necessarily help with.
You got up from your stool, your stomach rumbling in a reminder that you were in fact hungry. Rebecca came back just in time as you informed her you’d be having your break. Clearing your throat, you thought about which shop you’d walk to today for lunch.
Hm. Sushi sounded so good right now.
— 🐕
The third visit came by as you just returned back from a phone call with your dad. It was the simple check in, making sure you’re doing okay, and the usual chatter about what he’s been up to.
You and your dad were close, you had your moments of course, but he was still someone you loved dearly.
This time as you noticed the white streaked hair, you approached him first.
“It’s Stray Dog guy,” Rebecca pointed out from behind the counter as you joined her side.
The male huffed out a short laugh.
“What brings you in today?” You asked, pocketing your phone. “Is the dog still doing alright?”
“She’s doing great. The family friend is looking after her for the time being,” his voice was rough, and it was clear something was on his mind. But with his neutral expression and monotone voice, you couldn’t tell if that was just how he always acted.
“Aw! That’s good to hear!” Your best friend cooed, “good on you.”
Nodding his head, you couldn’t help but chuckle.
“So then what brings you here, Stray Dog guy?” The nickname Rebecca gave him stuck with you, simply due to not knowing his real name. Clearly, he wasn’t all that interested in giving you his name yet.
Something pulled in your chest. Was it curiosity?
“I’m actually here for some books. You guys are a lot closer than my local bookstore. Do you guys have any Jane Austin books?”
Now that shocked both you and your best friend. You didn’t say anything to give it away, but judging by how you both stood up straighter, you and Rebecca were on the same path.
A dude looking like this enjoyed reading? Especially Jane Austin? Maybe you shouldn’t have judged a book by its cover that quickly.
“Oh- of course,” Rebecca mumbled as she tapped her fingers on the desk. “We usually just have things sorted by genre or alphabetical order. I’m definitely sure we have some of her books somewhere.”
“Thanks.”
“Didn’t take you as a reader,” your best friend bravely stated. You kicked her foot behind the counter, making her wince.
His eyes darted between the two, looking the slightest bit offended. “I’m not. I carry books around for decoration,” he sarcastically grumbled.
Once he disappeared off to the books, you and Rebeca turned to each other with a look of shock mixed with confusion. You didn’t need to say anything, but the looks on your faces were enough to share the same thoughts.
Letting out a breath, you moved back to where you sat, continuing on with your doodles. You couldn’t help but glance every so often, wondering if the tall man found the books he needed and maybe - juuuust maybe - he’d come back for some more conversation. You had only one goal in your mind, and that was to at least figure out his name. The stranger who bought the stray dog two weeks ago didn’t affect you all that much, but curiosity always killed the cat.
— 🐕
Okay, maybe you lied to yourself.
Curiosity killed the cat. In fact, it killed all nine lives of the cat.
The next Thursday strolled around and you found yourself lingering by the counter ten minutes before one o’clock; you noticed the stranger would always arrive at one o’clock without fail.
So you waited.
And waited.
Then when thirty minutes went by, you thought to yourself. ‘What the hell am I even doing right now?’.
So by the time three o’clock came around, you both decided to close on time today. Cleaning up any mess, making sure the dogs returned to their owners, as well as making sure the rabbit was in Rebecca’s travel bag, you said your goodbyes and separated.
You decided to walk home today, with the sun warming your skin and a small breeze blowing. It was nice. Your mind was full of different ideas on what to craft when you got home and what to cook later for dinner.
The streets were usually busy in the afternoons. Traffic was a pain, hence why you walked often. People argued outside of convenience stores, a homeless person was usually always around yelling at passersby for money. There was always some electric thrill to the busy streets. But for once, the streets of Gotham were quiet.
That should have been your first red flag to turn on your heels and head back, maybe catch a taxi. The second red flag should have been the tyres screaming against the concrete road. You checked behind your shoulder before taking a sharp turn, hoping to avoid whatever chaos was bound to happen.
You came to an immediate halt.
A small scream left your throat as a crate flew right over your head, crashing into the brick wall. You threw yourself to the floor immediately, your heart pounding in your ears.
As you glanced up, you saw a group of men terrorising three innocent civilians, throwing them against the walls. They wore black suits with masks that seemed as if they had been purchased by a dollar store. One of them shoved a civilian against the brick wall with unnecessary force, while another leaned back, his body relaxed. The leader let out a maniac laugh that made the hair on your arm rise. A van was parked nearby, the engine still on as the back door was wide open. You tried your best to scatter away as fast as possible, but your foot caught one of the broken pieces of wood, earning a loud crunch from under your foot.
Without thinking, you immediately began sprinting yet a hand roughly pulled you back by your shoulder, gripping your shirt tightly. As a devil face came into your view, the man whistled behind his mask.
“Hi, doll face. Where are you headed off to in a hurry? Why not join the fun?”
Your heart was in your throat. This was it, you thought. This was the moment you finally got an experience of Gotham's horror and died without even saying goodbye to your dear dog. What about your dad? Who was going to check in and make sure he wasn’t off overworking himself? Who was going to be there for Rebecca’s dramatic attitude?
You shut your eyes as you were shoved to walk ahead. You couldn’t even speak. Do you attack back? Try to run? You couldn’t even fathom making an escape, too afraid if he’d attempt anything else.
Shoving you harshly down to the pavement, the palms of your hands scraping against the rough gravel. Your face scrunched in disgust as you felt your knees land in spilled groceries, your pants soaking in the cracked egg yolk.
You carefully flickered your gaze over to the other men. The one who was leaning back against the wall, wearing a blood-decorated Superman mask, suddenly stood up straighter. His arms were no longer relaxed, crossed against his chest but rather ready to prepare for a fight.
The weight of the man’s hand on your shoulder disappeared. You glanced to your left just as the masked man fell to the ground before you, your breath hitching in your throat. His mask was half off his face, a pool of blood beginning to form by the back of his head as it trickled down his temple. You watched with horror as it dropped into the cracks of the concrete.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Bastard.”
You couldn’t help another flinch at the new muffled voice, turning your body to be met with another masked man. Just like the ungodly amount of villains in Gothams, there were hero’s. And the hero before you wore a deep red mask with a suit that showed off the red symbol on his chest, a leather jacket as part of his signature look. A pistol was gripped in his gloved hand, while the other reached out, grabbing the man's ankles.
Without any remorse, he dragged the man against the concrete, away from you. You would have been thankful for that if it wasn’t for the painful sound of his skin scraping against the asphalt.
The vigilante hero tucked his pistol into his waistband. “you alright?”
“Lookie lookie who we have here! Decide to finally show your face, Red Hood?”
His head snapped over at the other civilians, gently waving his hand to tell you all to run. Technically, you should have listened. You should have ran as fast as you could but with everything happening so quickly, your feet were glued to the ground. Red Hood managed to sneak up to the other two masked villains, using his leg to swipe the other one down while using his fist to knock the third opponent down, barely breathing unevenly.
Stumbling back, you swallowed hard.
‘Run, dammit’ the voice in your mind screamed. Yet you were stuck in the same spot, your heart still drumming in your ears. Your hands trembled with fear as you could only watch Red Hood tie up the three men, giving one of them a good kick to his ribs as he tried to move out of the rope that tied him down.
“Don’t even think about getting out free. You fuckers can’t just escape and think human trafficking will lead you anywhere good. Not tonight.” Red Hood’s mask must’ve been built in with some sort of voice protector, as his voice came out differently. Robotic almost.
Just as the three civilians ran past you, one of them bumped into your shoulder. You blinked a few times, realising you’d just been saved by Gotham's vigilante hero. As the hero turned his attention to where the civilians ran off, Red Hood stared directly at you.
As the two of you made eye contact, he seemed to tilt his head the slightest - as if to question why you still just stood there. A few seconds seemed to blur by.
“What? Did’ya get hit in the head or something?” His sudden question made you blink a few times. One of the men coughed, blood spluttering out of his mouth. “Go.”
Tensing up, you began sprinting off before you could even think. You weren’t exactly sure if the adrenaline was still rushing through your veins, but you ran the entire way home, your breathing heavy as your chest burned. You glanced over your shoulder every five seconds, your paranoia making you question if anyone was following you.
Your hands were shaking as you pulled your keys out for your apartment, a small wheeze leaving your throat from the lack of oxygen you currently felt. You thought you were going to throw up as you kept swallowing back the saliva in your mouth.
Euphy cautiously approached you, moving to tuck her head under your arm as you slid down your apartment door after making sure it was locked. You let yourself fall to the floor with a thump, staring out. Your eyes burned with tears, anxiety riddling in your mind and embarrassment flooding in your system. Why didn’t you just run? Why didn’t you just drive to work? But as the tears rolled down your cheeks, you were just glad to be home safe in one piece.