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Not with his past. Not with all the death and blood and lives he’d stolen.

11.02.2020 – Three times from his back pocket. The Finn Comfort Toro is a casual men’s nubuck backstrap sandal with two adjustable hook and loop straps and an adjustable buckle ankle strap for the perfect fit. Bruce stopped and glared challengingly at his eldest.

After finally escaping the Court, Talon knew he could’t be a Hero. Breathes in. This story is going to be crack.

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There may be some plot, but it’s mostly crack. Please try not to take any of this seriously. Dick and Damian so just.

Enjoy and suffer with me because you bet your butts I’ll be channeling my daily frustrations as a barista into this fic. See the end of the work for more notes and other works inspired by this one.

See the end of the chapter for notes. It was a well known fact that Gotham housed some crazy, messed up villain. It was common knowledge that Batman kept other Heroes out for their own protection as it was to protect those he fought in the late hours of the night.

The Villains were the lowest of the low, ranging from child-traffickers to assassins to homicidal maniacs. The Villains were terrifying alone just because of the fact that they were human.

They were human through and through and the amount of destruction and death they caused gave reason for concern. Until, during the early winter season, a cafe opened.

It was a small thing, located in Crime Alley. It was inconspicuous at first glance – looking like a run down building instead of a establishment.

She looked up as he approached, smiling a little and jotting something on her clipboard. Mocha lace insert high leg cupped body hand Renewal and rebirth.

Rumors spread throughout the streets of Gotham and mingled in the cocktail glasses of the underground. The Cafe was off-limits.

The Cafe was neutral.

The Joker and Harley Quinn paid the Cafe a visit. Those who had the fortune to witness the event would swear on their lives that it ended with the Joker leaving a generous tip in the tip-jar and Harley promising to return.

It was unheard of. The Joker, known murderer, leaving the Cafe and the workers unharmed and not mentally scarred? The rumor mill worked harder.

Deathstroke was spotted there, despite him not being a Gotham rogue.

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The Penguin apparently only drank the espresso from that cafe. Poison Ivy had given a few potted plants, nothing poisonous or dangerous, as gifts to sit in the windowsills.

Catwoman helped decorate the place during the holiday seasons, offering framed pictures of her black kittens for Halloween or helping to make black cat cookies.

Two-Face was almost a permanent resident at the cafe, more so rarely seen away from his corner table than at it. Then Gotham nearly exploded the day Batman trudged in, plopped down at a booth table, and waved for the bruised and beaten Joker and Harley Quinn to join him.

One of the brave workers of the cafe a college student with dead eyes and an even deader will to live had taken their orders.

After that, more of the vigilantes who roamed the streets started showing up. Red Hood was a common sight, begging the only guy barista in the joint for just one more fucking espresso shot, please!

No one could say for sure how this cafe came to be, or the secret to its neutrality and success. All anyone could say for sure was that the barista who seemed to live there was more or less the main attraction for the women customers, and the coffee and the food the other reason for anyone else.

The coffee was dirt-cheap and delicious and the barista was always friendly and happy to see anyone who walked in the door. The cafe was small but well furnished.

The espresso bar, imported from Italy and top of the line, was daunting and intimidating in its size and with how many buttons it had. The wall decorations were modern canvases of black-and-white sketches of Gotham in various states, tastefully spread out across the bricks.

The cafe itself had a industrial aesthetic to it, the support beams and instillation uncovered to give it more appeal. Christmas lights and Edison bulbs hung loosely across the beams, strung across to give decent lighting.

Behind the metal, retro-looking counter was a man, his tanned skin almost glowing under the orange and yellow lights of the establishment.

His black, thick curls were tucked up under his tan baseball cap. A tan apron was tied tight around his waist, showing off his defined muscles of his arms and chest.

Dick wiped down at the metal counter, humming under his breath.

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A bell jingled as the door opened, two men in fine-pressed suits slipping past the tables and chairs. What can I get started for you? His buddy nudged him.

He set to work, dispensing the espresso grounds into the portafilters. The two men made idle chatter as Dick worked on their drinks. He filled one small to-go cup with two shots, sealing it with a lid.

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Another cup, he filled with 10 shots of espresso. He lidded that one as well before handing the two drinks over. The bell rung again as a woman sauntered in, her blonde hair pulled into two bouncing pig-tails.

Her makeup, eyeliner, mascara, and black lipstick, looked perfect on her. The woman watched him as he steamed the milk, grabbing two plastic bottles of white chocolate and caramel sauces to drizzle on top of the whipped cream she was eagerly looking forward to.

All by your lonesome? Harley made a appreciative noise as he passed the drink over, a wrapped cookie following.

I completely forgot! Dick rolled his eyes, easily sliding over the counter. It was a slow night so he could take the time to rest – it was his place after all.

He sat across from her and the villain wasted no time in breaking the cookie into bits, offering Dick a piece of the bat-signal shaped sugar cookie.

It was pretty steady earlier.

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Harley sipped on her beverage for a moment, eyes dark as she studied the man across from her. I never asked. What made ya decide to open up a cafe?

It had been stretched onto a canvas and hung. He beamed proudly. I love coffee, so I opened a coffee shop. The two fell into silence, Harley sipping on her drink and Dick watching the occasional person walk past the glass window panes.

Harley raised an eyebrow and tapped on the cardboard sleeve hugging her cup. Dick crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

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The Baby Bat – various forms of drinks with espresso shots. Zombie – ten shots. Once in a Dream – french vanilla syrup mixed with three shots of espresso.

Spoiler Free – Lavender powder based milk tea with coffee flavored jellies. Espresso shots are optional Tantrum – Soy or almond latte.

No flavor. No sugar.

Five shots of espresso. The Batman is a dark chocolate mocha latte with white chocolate drizzle, peppermint syrup, and four shots of espresso.

See the end of the chapter for more notes. Dick lived in a small one room apartment above the cafe.

This was completely fine. The less he had the better. His small kitchenette was filled with various bags and brands of coffee beans, his most expensive items in the area were the grounder and the keurig and french press pushed back against the wall.

His couch was worn and sunken in from years of runaways sleeping on the cushions or nights when his brothers crashed after a particularly heated argument with their dad.

A futon was pushed up in the corner of the room, near the window. A stuffed Bat rested against the uneven surface of the padding.

A sketch pad and pack of colored pencils were nestled under the futon. A TV, old and bulky compared to the slimmer models out on the market, faced the window, giving off a glare from the sunlight streaming in through the ruined, broken blinds.

DVDs, mostly cartoons, lined the stand the TV rested on. Every morning at 3 a.