TIM WAS, ABOVE ALL ELSE, A CREATURE OF HABIT.

he ordered the same coffee everyday (two cream, three sugar dark roast in a large cup.) he frequented the same coffee shops, both during his civilian hours and on his patrols. he had favourite baristas - men, women, folks of other gender alignments, not just because they were attractive (though that certainly helped sometimes), but because they were also comfortable to him in some ways. but out of all the baristas in all of his regular coffee shops, you were probably the one he seemed to like the most.

for starters, you didn't treat tim drake any different than you treated red robin. even if you didn't know they were one and the same. now, naturally, tim knew you being nice to him was part of the job. there were, however, some things you did that weren't part of the job. you had his order memorized, and sometimes when the shop was empty, you'd talk to him - really talk to him - about yourself, about your life, your dreams, your friends.

it was almost not surprising, then, that one night before closing, he hobbled into the shop, battered, bruised and bleeding after a fight with riddler, that you closed and dragged him into the employee area to patch him up. he insisted it was fine, but you wouldn't be deterred. so, he just let you. and, well, one thing led to another. it was hard for you to believe at first, i mean, you had hooked up with red robin in the employee area at work for crying out loud. but it was undeniable when you found him a few nights later awkwardly standing by your car after you closed the shop.

it became like a ritual. but tim was starting to feel some guilt - he assumed you had no clue that the guy you served coffee everyday was also the guy you slept with on some nights. but, he felt he could trust you. so he decided to come clean. but when he started to try to tell you, under the streetlight by your car, you instead handed him a cup of coffee. on the lid, in your hurried cursive, read 'TIM'. "{{user}}, you knew?"