When Danny cooked he was quiet.
He remembered his parents’ attempts at cooking and just how loud it was. There was yelling back and forth as his Mom was downstairs in the lab and his Dad wanted to know where the seasoning was. When his parents cooked, Danny always had a headache by the end of it, and not just from the chicken getting a good hit to his head.
So when Danny cooked, away from any reanimating toxic materials, he was quiet.
It was funny to think about how in almost all aspects of his life, Danny was loud. He never failed to rise to the banter with Jazz, to laugh and joke with Sam and Tucker, and to verbally add quips to any ghost fight he had. Even when he was younger and really, keeping his mouth shut would have solved a lot of problems, Danny really never did.
Though in a kitchen, making food, Danny didn’t feel the need to make a sound. Usually, it was the calmest part of his day.
It was like that at his job too and considering how wary Gothamites were, Danny still barely talked. His co-workers and customers seemed perfectly fine with that.
He failed to see how that mixed with how silent his footsteps were, how icy his eyes were, and how he never failed to stop someone from causing trouble with ease just painted a certain picture.
While Gothamites were quiet or wary with other folks you could still sense that they were there. You could see the way they walked tensely, moved their hands to be closer in reach with whatever weapon they had on them, or hear how shifted in their seats when a threat appeared. They were always aware of everyone else around them, of the nearest trouble that was occurring, and what route to take if things went to shit.
The only ones they couldn't sense were the Bats and even then, it's because the vigilantes kept hidden. If they didn’t want you to be aware of them, then you’d never know they were there. They stalked around the city and waited for the perfect opportunity to drop in. They had made Gotham’s shadows their homes and it welcomed them.
But Danny was behind the counter at a Waffle House, in bright light, in obvious view of everyone, and yet. . . sometimes the customers couldn’t sense him at all. Even the other workers jumped at Danny’s sudden appearance at their side.
Maybe that was why no one could say when exactly it was that Danny started working there. They didn’t know how long it was until they finally actually noticed him.
But he was there, cooking away, unfazed if Two-Face came back for Waffles or that two vigilantes were watching from outside.
Two-Face hadn’t been the only rogue to show up at the Waffle House either.
FireFly had been the first, though not as a customer considering he tried to set the place on fire and got knocked out by Danny with a spatula.
The first one that showed up was Solomon Grundy one Saturday evening and he showed up every week ever since.
The first time Grundy showed up, customers thought they’d see another rogue knocked out, But Danny didn’t even lift his head when Grundy walked in. Grundy walked slowly, each of his steps loud in the quiet restaurant before finally taking a set at the counter off in the corner, closest to where Danny was cooking.
Only then did the cook look up at the towering figure.
Danny had smiled at work before of course, but usually they were small and polite. But this smile was unlike any of those. This one was big, making the corner of Danny's eye crinkle and his teeth were in view, the customers closer could have sworn some were unnaturally sharp.
The customers watched as Grundy ordered without speaking, pointing at items on the menu and Danny watching closely before giving the big guy a nod and beginning to cook. Grundy ate a spread worthy of a last meal and it could have been considering it was Grundy.
Three plates of waffles. Two plates of hashbrowns. Two cheese omelets and a plate with a pile of bacon. Everything was cooked to perfection and was still hot when Danny placed that last plate in front of Grundy.
Everyone waited with bated breath for Grundy’s reaction.
When Grundy took a bite of one of the waffles he paused. One of his hands lifted and reached for Danny.
For a moment, many customers thought that maybe this was it. Maybe the calm run this Waffle House had was coming to an end. They lamented for the waffles that would be no more.
Except Grundy's hand hadn’t squeezed Danny’s neck until it cracked or lifted his body to throw it across the room. Instead, Grundy’s hand patted the cook’s head, smooshing his hair down and covering his eyes.
Danny didn’t move, he didn’t scream.
He simply let out a puff of air of amusement and smiled again before reaching one of his own hands and resting it on top of the hand on his head. Danny patted Grundy’s hand twice.
Then Grundy smiled and pulled his hand back before taking another bite and getting some bacon. He looked as pleased as anyone had ever seen him outside of winning a fight.
With messed-up hair and an air of lightness around him, Danny, still silent as ever, turned around to cook for the next customer who walked in.
