Core Disatser week 2021 Day 2: Soulmates/Red String
Another piece I was able to churn out for Core Disaster week! I love soulmate au’s of all kinds, so I couldn’t resist throwing a little something together for the concept-last year I used the idea of soulmate tattoo’s/identifying marks, but I thought I’d stay classic for this one and do the strings!
Honestly. What did Bruce even think would happen? He should have known better.
Tim wasn’t Dick, indoctrinated from a young age to be a good, somewhat (when convenient) obedient son. Tim only went along with Bruce’s shit because, more often than not, it aligned with what he himself wanted. He also wasn’t Damian, so easily manipulable when one knew which buttons to push. And he certainly wasn’t Jason, who would sink his own ship to kill the captain.
So, when Tim and Bruce fought, and his adopted father decided to pull the ‘you live under my roof and work in my company, so I’m the boss all the way through’ card, well…
Yeah. Tim wasn’t going to take that lying down. He had a childhood of zero authority figures to obey and an overabundance of sass, plus a complete lack of fucks to give.
It was bound to go down like this.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
And, well. Tim had money. Like, an absurd amount of money. Even before being adopted by playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, Tim had his own no small fortune stashed away, a couple of properties gathering dust, two trust funds and more antique cars that he knew what to do with. So he could just… burn through that money, or sell the cars, or make a living of renting the buildings he owned, and he would barely even scratch the surface of his deep wealth.
But it wasn’t about being able to live comfortably with minimum effort. Tim was trying to prove a point here. What point, fuck if he knew. But a point.
So here he was, on the other end of the wooden counter, a cute red cap falling over his eye as he looked dead into his friend’s eyes.
“Tim. Tim, you’re rich. Why are you working in a coffee shop?”
Seeing as Kon and Cassie were currently too busy being shocked, Tim shrugged and went back to cleaning the cup in his hands.
It was a plastic cup. It didn’t need cleaning, he could just toss it away. But it was his favorite plastic cup, and he was gonna save it as a family heirloom forever.
(The fact that the pretty customer from the morning shift had drawn cute little doodles all over it had nothing to do with it’s worth.)
“Teenage rebellion”, he finally said, carefully putting his treasure away.
“You are twenty.”
“Time is a social construct and I’m but a slinky falling down an endless flight of stairs.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Your face doesn’t make any sense. How is it so symmetrical? It defies nature.”
-.-.-.-.-.-
“What can I get for you?”
“I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino, made with skim milk, no whipped cream.”
“Bart, no.”
“Please put that in a grande cup”
“I’m begging you, don’t do it.”
“But use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall.”
“I’m warning you, you don’t want to do this.”
“That way there's about an inch of extra room on top.”
“I wish you had an extra inch so I could look straight into your eyes when I murder you.”
“To stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all.”
“You’re dead to me. Also, I AM going to make you that drink and you WILL finish it or so help me God.”
“What do you want, Kon?”
“To not be here when Tim’s looking like he’s planning both our unsolved murders.”
-.-.-.-.-.-
When Kon entered the shop, the messenger bag slung over his shoulder bumping against his hip as he rushed in to get his caffeine intake before his evening classes, he wasn’t surprised at the scene.
Cassie being there was a given, since there was always at least one of them there at all times, supporting Tim in this ‘independence’ thing he was dead set on trying. Kon himself had his Tim Shift later that day, after his creative writing course. Bart had probably just left, considering the amount of empty cake platters littering the counter.
Tim being face down in said counter, uncaring about the mess, was also old news. The dude barely ever seemed to leave (Kon was almost completely sure he actually owned the place, since he’d never seen any sort of manager and Tim’s hours seemed to work around his weird sleep patterns all too perfectly), and distraught was his general state of being, so. Normal day as far as he could see.
Still, he had to ask. “What is it today?”
Cassie, eyes never leaving her magazine, chin resting in one hand as the other one scratched at Tim’s scalp, snorted.
“A cute boy started working in the tattoo place next door. He came in for a morning fix, when Tim was barely awake, and he said something stupid, so he’s been having an existencial crisis ever since.”
“I said ‘you too’, Kon. He said ‘thanks for the coffee, I’ll enjoy it!’ and I said ‘you too’. What is wrong with me?”
Kon snorts a little. Tim doesn’t seem to be very interested in doing his actual work, so he just jumps over the counter and starts working the machines himself.
“You know that’s a question you can only ask your therapist, Tim, but if you need to know, I’d say you’re highly sleep deprived and a dysfunctional bi?”
At that, Tim does turn to look at him. There’s some cake frosting clinging to his eyelashes, and his hair is a mess. It looks cute, to be completely honest, and Kon has to leave his unfinished latte on the side so he can hug the little shit.
“Aw, don’t pout, Timbo. I’m sure he thought you were cute. Just try to sleep a bit more tonight, so when he comes back tomorrow you’ll be a little more alert and won’t embarrass yourself.”
“What do you mean, when he comes back?”
“I mean, if he works next door, he’ll probably get his morning coffees here all the time, right?”
That seemed to drive Tim back into the distraught spiral. He smashed his head back into the counter, making dying whale noises until Cassie’s hand returned to his scalp.
Kon privately thinks Tim’s life is starting to sound like fanfiction. He wonders which type of background character he would be, in it.
-.-.-.-.-.-
The shop is called F’coffee. That’s why Cassie is convinced Tim is the actual owner; no one else would really think that’s a proper name for a serious establishment. Kon isn’t convinced all the way yet, but with Bart on her side and Tim staying silent on the subject, it is just a matter of time until she convinces him it’s totally okay for him to do his gym routine there. She thinks, with Tim being his own boss, no one would tell him to stop it, and it would help his friend’s business to bloom with new customers.
The place's general aesthetic is exactly what you would expect, with old wooden tables, comfy chairs, potted plants hanging from the walls and tall windows just a little bit stained. The smell is constantly of the strongest brew Tim has, Death Coffee (which he’s actually not legally allowed to sell, so he keeps it for himself), and just setting a foot in makes her feel instantly awake. It's also always warm, and the sweets on display look mouth watering no matter your personal preferences.
In short, it looks like something out of a movie. It’s a tad too perfect for her friend, but she thinks it also fits his obsessive need for perfection.
Except for the board. Oh, the board. Cassie loves it more than life itself.
Tim has divided the drinks in categories. And made up names for all of them.
“Yes, hello! I’d like to order a grande, iced, sugar-free vanilla Latte, with soy milk, but I can’t seem to find it in your menu…”
Tim’s dead eyes turn to Cassie for a second, before facing his customer again.
“You’re probably looking into the Normal People section”, he points out, before raising his hand to signal a bit to the left. “There you have the Pain In The Ass selection. There’s nothing just like you asked, but you have the It’s Britney Bitch beverage, which is almost exactly the same except I’ll add a middle finger drawing in the cup and charge you extra for emotional damages. Also, we’re out of soy milk.”
Or…
“Hey, good morning! I’d like to order…”
Tim raised a hand, stopping the chirpy, good looking young man dead in his tracks.
“Don’t tell me, I know what you need. I’ll just go ahead and prepare it.”
“But you don’t even know what I/”
“You’ll have a Cougar Bait. It has cacao cream, a strawberry pucker and some grenadine seeds. I think it's fitting, for you.”
And also…
“Hey, hum… Sorry, I just have to ask… what’s on the ‘Barista’s heart’ drink?”
“Cacao powder, almond milk and espresso. Also some organic coconut ash, that gives it the blacker-than-night color, that’s just a shade lighter than my soul.”
“...noted.”
Cassie snorts into her cup of Jack it up (coffee that tastes just like a Jack Daniel’s; having Tim working here has opened up her eyes to the possibilities), watching as Tim makes his own usual.
“What’s in that one?” She asks, out of curiosity, when she’s sure there’s no other customer close by.
“Six espresso shots.”
She waits for a second. Tim finishes the drink, carefully handling the dark liquid inside his favorite plastic cup.
“...okay, and?”
“And that 's it.”
“Tim, that-- that would kill you?”
“Duh. Why did you think it was called The Last Sip?”
