and it had the logo

still-searching47  asked:

Handprints!Belle: Have you ever brought Gold coffee when he's at ground level? Learned his name? Handprints!Gold: How old is your son?

BECAUSE I CAN’T JUST LEAVE IT BE OF COURSE I CAN’T. 


“Hi!”

The voice startled Gold and he almost dropped his squeegee on the pavement. He blinked at the brunette haired woman, and then his eyes went wide.

“Miss - French?” he said, straightening and squaring his shoulders.

Belle nodded and beamed at him, holding out a cup with one of those cardboard bands around the middle. He frowned and took it from her, sighing audibly when he felt how warm it was. The bucket and squeegee were set down in favor of wrapping his hands around the cup. It had a logo from the coffee shop across the street, one he had gone into once before he’d seen the prices. Seven dollars for a basic cup of coffee was far more than he could spare.

She continued to smile at him. “I thought you could use a hot drink to warm you up.”

He nodded. “Yes, thank you.” Then he popped off the top, smiling when he saw the rich, black coffee inside.

“I, um, didn’t know how you took it so…” She shrugged.

“Black is fine,” he said. “Sometimes with a little sugar, but -”

Belle immediately reached in her pocket and held out a packet of sugar. “I grabbed an extra just in case.”

Gold shook his head and tore open the packet with his teeth. She was probably the nicest person in the entire world. No one else would even look at him, much less go through the trouble of bringing him coffee at the end of a long, cold shift.

“Thank you,” he managed, suddenly overcome with emotion as the sugar spilled into the coffee.

“It’s no trouble,” she said. “I just - you looked so cold and -” She shrugged again. “I’m Belle.”

He looked up from the cup with wide eyes. She was offering him her first name. “Oh, um, Roland.”

She stuck out a gloved hand and he shook it with his bare, half frozen one.

“Nice to meet you, finally, but I, uh, I need to get going,” she said, look over her shoulder and then back to him. “I’m sorry!”

He nodded. Of course she probably had other things to do than talk to him, but this small kindness was the most he could remember in some time.

“Bye, Roland!” she called out, already halfway to the bus stop on the corner and pushed up on her toes to wave at him.

Gold raised a hand and waved back.

A few minutes later, the coffee was cool enough to drink, and he sipped carefully, waiting for the light to turn before he crossed the street. The walk back to his tiny apartment and his precious six year old son had never felt warmer.

Reasons to be happy today:

  • Bruce is super committed to his bat-aesthetic, and it always looks like he put a bunch of effort into it, but honestly? The batsignal isn’t copyrighted, and there’s no way the city of Gotham isn’t capitalizing on that for their tourism industry. Bat stuff is really easy to get ahold of, and the batcave isn’t nearly as impressive as you think it is
  • “You had all of your towels embroidered with your logo??” “lmao no we bought those at Target for $4.99 apiece while they were on sale” “oh okay” I’m telling y'all
  • Stephanie used to play the piano, right? When she decided to start up again, Bruce offered to let her use the grand in the manor whenever she wanted. Now she barges in to play when she’s stressed (often). The others like to listen to her– Bruce especially, because the last person to play that piano was his mom. You’d think it would be a problem, but it isn’t.
  • Remember than unfinished arc where Damian was taking acting lessons, but we never found out why? My theory is that he was working on some kind of surprise for Alfred, former Shakespearean actor. It would fit well with one of Damian’s more prominent patterns.
  • Generally speaking, Wayne Manor is a safe zone where superhero matters can be openly discussed. There’s nobody there that isn’t in the loop… but that can’t be true all the time. They have to have some kind of signal for “civilians present” and frankly I’m just picturing a giant ACT NORMAL! sign on the door