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Bernard wants to know whatever possessed his parents to ever decide to raise a family in Gotham, he wants to curse whatever goddamn fucking deity there is out there that made him too fucking prideful to ever move out of Gotham and he wants to murder his stupid, caffine-addicted boyfriend for ever turning him into an avid coffee drinker.
Okay, that's a mild lie, Bernard adores Tim and he loves coffee, he's just a little bit pissed that his morning coffee run has been interrupted by another wannabe villain attack.
A true Gothamite, he thinks bitterly as he sits uncomfortably behind the table he and two others have taken cover at, only mildly annoyed at the lack of caffeine and not the potential death.
Bernard then rolled his eyes at himself, death was very dramatic. This guy wasn't going to kill anyone anytime soon, maybe he'd maim someone, but that was the height of it. They'd be dragged to a hospital, fixed up right as rain and then given an impossible to pay off bout of debt that would turn anyone into a gun wielding, mask wearing lunatic that robs coffee shops and the cycle would continue. Bernard would offer himself up if it meant speeding this whole thing up, but that would be a little problematic in the fact that A, Tim would murder him, majorly maimed or not, and B, he was due to post another chapter of Red Robin fic today and his non-Gothamite readers would never believe him if he claimed to have been in a coffee-shop-hold-up, but then again he was posting on AO3, and authors were pretty known to come back from pretty much anything, with a small apology in their notes.
That would actually be pretty funny.
No. Tim wouldn't be happy if he got hurt. Oh, the woes of having a caring boyfriend, an annoyingly Darla-like voice sighs in his head. He makes a note to message her later, actually. They haven't met up in a while, and by the looks of things here he'll be due another coffee trip a lot sooner, rather than later.
Couldn't this guy have waited like…half an hour? Bernard had things to do today.
Another shot goes off, Bernard sinks deeper into the ground. The girl beside him looks to be in a similar boat as him, she looks like a tired college student, only she managed to get coffee before this dumbass started firing. So not fair.
Bernard pulls his phone out and manages to message Tim, much to the horror of the guy on his other side who mustn't be as used to these things as he is. Or, maybe, Bernard's just weirdly calm. It's not like this is the worst thing that's happened to him in this city. He types out a simple 'gonna be late, some dumbass with a gun at the cafe.' and shoves his phone away.
"Did you not call for help?" The guy next to him hisses, both Bernard and the girl glance at him. She seems to exclude herself from the conversation at that very second, leaving Bernard alone. Double so not fair. "Dude, there's a guy with a gun. Help is almost definitely already on the way," he says, glancing over the table at the rest of the shop. Oh, two guys with guns now. "Plus, who exactly do you want me to call? 911? And get put on hold for like an hour? No thanks." Their wait time is ten minutes, which is arguable too long for any emergency line, but Gotham is fucked in way worse ways than some shitty public servants.
The guy seems pretty disgusted about that, honestly. Which is...fair.
"Woah!" A familiar voice says, along with a very loud crash. Bernard looks up and —
Holy shit. It's Red Robin.
His readers definitely won't believe him now.
"Is that an AK-47?" Red Robin asks, as he jumps over to the two guys, who both scramble across the floor. Red Robin must have pulled some of that weird Bat shit. Nobody can ever hear them coming. He sort of wonders where they learn to do that. "You know, there's a neat trick with these kinds of guns — here, I'll show you!" Halfway through that, Red Robin slams his bo staff into the guys legs, knocking him down, and in one swift movement, the vigilante grabs the gun from the air, knocks it on his thigh and disarms the gun, discarding it to the ground.
Hot, Bernard thinks, not even feeling guilty about it. Tim would totally let him bang Red Robin if the opportunity presented itself.
The other guy yells, shooting at Red Robin. He easily jumps over the bullets and slams his bo staff into this one's elbow, sending his gun flying too. The guy huffs angrily at that, and Bernard distantly wonders how bad getting hit by that staff must hurt.
Idiot number one jumps up then, and both of them go for Red Robin at the same time. Red Robin holds his staff sharply in one hand, slamming it into Idiot number two's face as he kicks his foot into Idiot number one's groine. That's gotta hurt, Bernard winces.
"Remember kids!" Red Robin jokes, "It's not dirty fighting if the guys are dicks." Bernard has to laugh as Idiot number one whines on the floor. Red Robin stops another attack from Idiot number two, grabbing his fist with an offended look. He looks like he's about to make another joke but Idiot two scoffs and grabs his forearm, slamming him over his shoulder and onto the counter.
Red Robin coughs. "Fucking — ow!" He snsps, looking genuinely annoyed now. Idiot number two grins, and slams his foot onto his friend's face, clearly knocking him out. "Not used to day fighting, huh detective?" Red Robin falters a little, so much so that Bernard sees the strike before it happens.
The guy pulls out a knife, or a dagger or something sharp and weirdly cinematic looking. He throws it towards Red Robin and it digs into his shoulder, making his swear under his breath.
"Fucking Ra's." Red Robin hisses, ripping the dagger from his shoulder and throwing it right back at the guy. He manages to dodge it, and Bernard frowns. This guy seems a little more skilled than his friend, not to mention the fact he literally stomped on the guy's head.
The fight continues, both men getting in pretty equal punches, but it's clear that Red Robin is very carefully not breaking any more furniture or directing this guy towards any people. Red Robin kicks the guy's chest and knocks him back onto the counter, the guy huffs but before he can push himself back up, Red Robin grabs a fork from one of the tables and stabs it into the guy's hand, angrily.
The guy cries out in pain.
"Learn to take a fucking hint." Red Robin hisses, before he jabs a point in the guy's neck that makes him go limp. He looks around for a second, and Bernard feels oddly like Red Robin's eyes fall on him, it feels like everything paused for a minute as the blank domino mask looks at him and it — something makes Bernard pause.
It's a small scar on Red Robin's jaw, most people would never even notice it but Bernard knows it — he knows it intimately. He's studied the fact that scar belongs to for hours, he's touched it and kissed it and he's—
Huh, he thinks, my boyfriend has an identical scar there.
Red Robin turns away from him and Bernard feels like he can breathe again and then the vigilante pulls out a grappling hook and flies out the window leaving the coffee shop in a weird sort of haze that's always left when one of the bats departs.
"Red Robin was out in the day," Bernard hears as he grabs his bag from the ground and brushes the dust off of his lap.
Most of the bats never go out during the day, the only exception is Signal, and Bernard is pretty sure that's something to do with the fact he's also the only Meta on the team. (Unless you count literally all of them because there's no way they are just normal human beings.) There have only been a few occasions where anyone has ever seen a bat during the day, and usually it lines up with someone specific they had to save, or a breakout from Arkham or some other big deal.
This was just a semi-normal asshole with a gun.
And his maybe ninja friend.
Was that why Red Robin was here? Did he know Idiot number two? No, that can't be it. Red Robin had seemed genuinely surprised when he did realise the guy wasn't some idiot with a gun. Maybe he was saving someone specific. Maybe —
"Isn't it weird Red Robin only showed up after you messaged Tim?" A small voice in his head asked. And, yeah…it is. But that's…no, that's irrelevant. Bernard may like conspiracy theories but he isn't stupid, okay? He'd know if his boyfriend was —
He had the scar.
Okay, sure. But that's totally dismissable. Maybe it wasn't even a scar. Tim always said he got it when he fell off his skateboard, maybe Red Robin just skates too.
He was looking for you.
That's not egotistical. It's not. Red Robin wasn't looking at Bernard. He was — looking at something, yes but not Bernard. That's so stupid.
That's —
That's three points now. Bernard has a rule, he'll only ever consider a theory if it has more than three points.
"It's a family thing." Tim has said again and again and again, when he disappeared randomly.
"Ugh. I fell on my skateboard again." Tim would say when Bernard asked about the grazes on his hands, and the bruises on his legs and arms and bust lips and black eyes and —
Holy shit.
Bernard slams open his apartment door and is met with a dishevelled looking Tim. Tim, whose clothes are hanging off him weird. Tim, whose nose looks like he's just had a bloody nose. Tim, who's got a scar on his jaw and whose hair is mused and whose got a blood spot on his left hand.
"Liar!"
Tim blinks. "Excuse me?"
"You — Oh my God. It makes so much sense!"
"Uh…what? What's happening? Wait — are you okay? What happened at the coffee shop —"
"You! You happened!"
"What?"
"You stabbed a man with a fork. Holy shit, you know Batman!" Suddenly, there's a hand over his mouth and Tim's eyes are right in front of his, and in any other situation Bernard would find this quiet hot but this isn't a sexy thing, this is a shut the fuck up thing.
"Maybe don't yell that. Please." Bernard stares at his boyfriends desperate eyes for a second and raises an eyebrow. Tim does the same and then smiles a little as he pulls Bernard into the apartment and shuts the door, letting Bernard fall against the wall.
"You're Red Robin," Bernard hisses and it comes out sounding overly concerned which he didn't mean to happen but okay. Tim takes a deep breath, hands on his hips and nods, "Technically,"
"Technically? No — No, technically. You dress up in leather and fight criminals while — don't you run a company? You — you have things to do. When do you sleep? Does your family know? That thing you did with the gun on your thigh was very hot, by the way —" Bernard rambles, far too fast for his own liking, "Holy shit, you have a warrant out for your arrest."
Tim stares at him and smiles, "It's not leather," He says first which is so not the thing Bernard wants him to focus on, but also Tim in leather is a nice thought. He moves closer to Bernard, holding his arms out, "I co-run a company and have a very efficient assistant. Yes, my family knows and I'm glad you had fun?" That last one was more a question than anything else. Tim was unfamiliar with compliments and he took them about as well as oil did to water.
Bernard blinks, "You didn't answer my sleep question," He points out. Tim actually rolls his eyes at that, like it's a question he's been dealing with far too often.
"I am working on it," He says, sounding sincere, "It got really bad a while ago, but then I met you and…I had a reason to stay in bed," That makes Bernard unreasonably happy but a little concerned about the fact that before they started sleeping together, his boyfriend was running on little to no sleep. He should talk to Dick about that, or maybe Alfred. Not Bruce, because Bruce still scares him.
Tim pauses and looks at Bernard for a minute before he chuckles softly, letting his head fall onto Bernard's chest. Bernard can't help but smile.
"What?" He asks.
"It's just —" Tim shakes a little with his laugh and looks up at him, "I've been trying to tell you this for months and you see me in the cape once and you work it out,"
Bernard finds himself grinning as he wraps an arm around Tim, "Well, to be fair; I do know you really well," He muses, kissing the small scare that started this whole crisis. Tim giggles.
"Really?"
"Mhm. What's the real story here? No skateboard, I assume?"
"It's a long story,"
"And this?" Bernard asks as he taps another scar on Tim's temple with his lips.
"An even longer story," Tim says, Bernard looks at him and then smiles, shrugging Tim answers; "There were ninjas involved,"
"Ninjas."
"It's not nearly as sexy as it sounds," Tim assures. Bernard just chuckles.