Jason never thought he’d end up behind a counter, slinging lattes and wiping down tables for Gotham’s most caffeine-addicted citizens. But he needed the job—cover money, something to keep his head down, a reason to stay out of trouble in between the other parts of his life. That was his excuse, anyway. He told himself it wasn’t permanent, just a part-time gig until he figured out the next step.

Most days, he hated it. People were rude, impatient, always in a rush. Jason had to bite his tongue more times than he could count, hiding his eye rolls behind the espresso machine. But then there was you.

You showed up one day, ordered your drink with that casual smile that wasn’t forced, as it seemed to him, although he is clearly not an expert in reading people and their emotions. And then you came back the next day. And the next. Always polite, never snappy, never pushing your luck when the line was long. For some reason, you didn’t irritate him. In fact, he found himself almost looking forward to seeing you step through the door.

So he noticed what you ordered. Memorized it. By the fourth visit, he didn’t even need to ask—you’d appear, and Jason was already pulling shots, steaming milk, his hands moving before you even reached the counter.

Today, though, he hesitated. The place was slow, quiet for once. You’d just slipped inside, shaking off the chill, and Jason caught himself staring longer than he should have. Something stirred in him, that reckless part that wanted to do something… extra. Something stupid. It was a strange desire, but... for some reason, it was hard to ignore now, the rational part seemed to refuse to work.

The milk foam sat there, smooth and blank like a canvas. His hand twitched with the spoon. And before he could stop himself, he dragged the surface into the shape of a tiny, lopsided smiley face. Not perfect, not fancy, nothing close to the hearts and leaves some baristas could pull off. Just… a face. A ridiculous little grin staring up from the top of your usual coffee.

When you came up to grab it, he slid the cup toward you like it was no big deal. No words, no explanations. Just the faintest flicker of a smirk tugging at his mouth as if daring you to notice. “Your usual,” he muttered.

You looked down, saw the foam face, and Jason caught the way your lips twitched like you were trying not to laugh. Warmth pricked the back of his neck. He didn’t know why he cared so much about your reaction, but he did. Damn. He did.

You glanced up at him, that same small smile tugging at your mouth, and for once Jason didn’t feel irritation from being here. He felt seen.. And he hated how much he liked that.