Chapter Text
Jason could hear the commercial fishing boats in the distant, blaring their horns as they arrived with the day’s loads. The smaller boats would be quieter of course, but as he struggled out of bed at 3am, he knows the fishmarket 10 minutes from his shop is just about to open up.
There’d been no gunshots that night, which was always a good sign. That meant any dirty deals in the container port, parked on the other side of his shop, had gone smoothly.
He went through his usual morning routine, and was mostly awake by the time he stumbled down the stairs of his flat.
Although the bakery was right beneath him, the flat was not connected to the shop. Instead, Jason had to brace himself on the public pavement every day, risking his life with the 3 steps it took to get from his front door to the shop.
Perhaps he was paranoid. But the container port was regularly visited by the criminal elements of Gotham. All it took was a single stray bullet from a deal gone wrong.
Jason peeked out of the peephole on his front door. No sign of the Families. No Crazies either. Not that the Crazies tended to bother coming so far out. There weren’t enough people here to be of interest to them. At least not yet.
Maybe in a couple of hours, once the fishmarket hits peak time. By then, Jason would be inside his bakery with its bulletproof windows and walls.
He grabbed his keys, keeping an eye out just in case, and slipped past his front door. He triple locked it, as usual, before turning towards his shop.
Jason nearly had a heart attack at the sight before him.
There, sitting on the floor and leaning against his reinforced glass doors, was a vigilante.
If this was any other city, Jason probably would have blinked sleepily and wondered if he was dreaming.
Given that this was Gotham, Jason’s first reaction was to stumble back towards his front door and glance around to see if there was an escaped Arkham inmate in close proximity. There wasn’t.
He turned back to the vigilante.
It was a teenager, Robin by the looks of it. Though Jason wasn’t sure why there were two ‘R’s on his logo.
The teen was leaning back against the glass of his shopfront. As if he’d dozed off. Or was contemplating the murky clouds of the Gotham night sky. His eyes were open though, so it was a little creepy.
Jason contemplated his options, still feeling incredulous at the masked kid before his eyes. It was the first time he had so much as seen a vigilante in real life. The Bats weren’t like Superman of Metropolis. They didn’t do public appearances.
He hadn’t expected Robin to be so small.
“Hey,” he said. No response. “Hey Robin.”
Robin jolted in place, head snapping in Jason’s direction immediately. With the better angle, Jason realised that there were white lenses attached to the vigilante’s mask.
Perhaps Robin’s eyes hadn’t been open after all.
“Oh,” Robin said, sounding like he’d spent the night holding up the weight of the world. “You’re here.”
Jason paused, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Maybe he was being arrested. “Whatever it is you think I’ve done, I didn’t do it.”
Robin didn’t so much as raise his eyebrows. He simply jabbed a thumb at the bakery. “It says you open at 6am,” Robin said. Then he yawned. “I really need coffee.”
“I don’t know what clock you’re checking, but it’s 3:30 right now,” Jason said.
“Bakeries tend to start baking 3 hours before opening time,” Robin replied.
“There are plenty of 24hr diners around,” Jason replied, even as his mind spun with the fact that he was having a conversation about coffee (and where one should procure it) with a vigilante.
“This was closest.”
Jason let out a frustrated breath.
“I can pay you,” Robin offered. “Pay you extra, I mean. Obviously I’d pay you for the coffee.”
As tempting as that was, Jason wasn’t sure teenage vigilantes should be drinking coffee after a long night of fighting crime. He’s not sure he should be enabling such a habit either. Adult responsibility and all that.
“I’m serious,” Robin said, sounding almost desperate. “I’ve got $200 of cash on me right now.”
That was sort of alarming, for a variety of reasons.
“You carry that much on you regularly?”
“It’s not like I’d get mugged,” Robin deadpanned in response. Jason supposed that was true. He sighed.
Vigilantes being in close proximity were normally bad news. When they weren’t busy being invisible to civilians, they tended to attract attention-seeking homicidal maniacs.
Still, Batman and his flock did good work. Even if Jason didn’t particularly agree with their methods, he could spare 10 minutes to get Robin a cup of coffee.
“Fine,” he grumbled, stepping forward with his shop keys.
Robin moved out of the way, standing up with a fluidity Jason could only dream of achieving. They really were something else.
He unlocked his shop.
“Sit anywhere you want,” Jason said, holding his door open. Once Robin had entered the shop, Jason closed the door and locked it again. He may be okay with getting Robin a cup of coffee, but there was no way he was risking any loons or drunks or homeless dudes getting in.
Thankfully, Robin didn’t comment on his justified paranoia. He simply pulled out a chair and sat down. Jason noticed that he chose a seat where he could easily see both the door and the counter. Smart kid.
“How do you like your coffee?” he asked, turning the machine on.
“Black. Filtered. Double shots.” Robin replied.
That was pretty easy then. “Machine needs to warm up,” he said. Robin simply nodded in response.
Part of Jason wanted to go into the kitchen to turn his ovens on, but there was no way he was leaving a stranger in his shop unsupervised. Vigilante or no.
The silence was awkward though. But it wasn’t like there were any easy conversations to have in this situation. Jason considered his options. And then decided he will simply ask the obvious ones, such as whether there were any imminent danger to the area within the next week or so and if that was why Robin was in the area.
He wondered if vigilantes were allowed to talk about their open cases, or if there were strict codes of confidentiality like the cops (especially the corrupt cops, they loved their secrets).
“So...Robin...” Jason began.
“Red Robin,” Robin corrected.
“What?”
“Red Robin,” Robin repeated. “My name is Red Robin.”
“When did you add a ‘red’ to the beginning?” Jason frowned. “I thought it was Batman and Robin. Not Batman and Red Robin.”
Robin didn’t reply. Simply pressed his lips together and did not speak for several moments.
“It is Batman and Robin. Someone else is Robin at the moment,” Red Robin eventually said, sounding surprisingly calm. Far too calm, as if he was repressing his emotions. That type of calm.
Jason wondered if he’d insulted the kid by this lack of vigilante knowledge. Not that he particularly cared, he never felt any inclinations to follow the movements of the capes. They did good work, but they lacked resolve.
Fortunately, Jason didn’t have to continue the awkward and stilted conversation. The machine was ready, and he made the coffee within minutes before plonking it in front of Red Robin.
He sort of wished he had a pastry to put there too, the kid looked far too skinny for his own good.
“Thank you,” Red Robin said.
Jason nodded and went about tidying up the shop front, still not entirely comfortable with heading into the back, even though he really needed to start on the bread. Red Robin didn’t take long though. And as Jason wondered what else he could do for the front of his shop, there was a decisive click of the front door closing behind him.
He spun around. Red Robin was gone. With nearly no hints of him ever being there. A quick check of the front door revealed that it was locked. Which meant in the few seconds Jason had not been watching the guy, he had managed to unlock the front door, slip out and lock it again. Then disappeared into the night.
Those vigilantes really were something else.
At least he kept his side of the deal, Jason noted, picking up the $200 wad of cash placed neatly under the coffee cup saucer.
For a moment, Jason was once again struck by how surreal the entire situation was. But then he shrugged and headed back into the kitchen. He had bread to bake, and he was already behind schedule.