Batboys x Reader

Working Class Woman (Tim Drake x Reader)

Hello! This was requested by @Camizawesome. This uses prompt 40 (A: Is there a word between angry and sad? B: Malcontented, disgruntled, miserable, desolated. A: Smad. B: Oh my God.) Hope you enjoy! Comment who you think bought you the coffee. ;)

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(Y/N) pov

When I arrive at work there is already a coffee on my desk. There is no note to let me know who the buyer is yet one sniff tells me it's my favourite. I sink into my chair and peer around. Hardly anyone is here yet and no-one even looks my way or acknowledges me at all. I turn my attention back to the cup. I want to resist it until I know the giver, but without a conscious thought it is in my hand and the first milky sip creeps over my taste-buds and down my throat. After only a few minutes I am bathing in the kick of the caffeine. The time for finding my benefactor has passed, the first meetings of the day are already slated to begin. So I carry my reports in one hand and the cup in the other. Until it's drained it will be within an arms reach.

We all shuffle into the room where Tim Drake waits for us. He wears a grey suit with a red shirt and a yellow tie, it reminds me of the suit Red Robin wears. I have to admit he is an attractive man. He paces across the room in even strides, his feet gently pounding on the floor. I take in his muscles, the clean-shaven square jaw and tune into his voice. It is as deep as any man. He smiles with ease, showing his age. He has that almost nerdy but strong look about him. I close my hand around my cup, feeling the warmth, taking in deep drags on the espresso fumes. Our eyes meet for a brief second allowing him to gives me a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet and unexpected warmth rushes through me. I feel my cheeks flush, and my stomach is heavy. My heart pounds in my throat, threatening to break out. His eyes wander back to the person speaking. Mine stay locked on him. How many love songs had I heard that said, "He takes my breath away"? Now that line makes a lot of sense. 

I have no idea why I have to attend these meetings but  I sit and listen until I begin to get bored. Most people write down information on their notepads but I was smart and brought my laptop. I casually open it and immediately go to work on adding more to the novel I'm writing. A writer is supposed to a weaver of words. They takes the threads of words, and weave them into a pattern that could fill another person's mind with beauty, or the choice of words may be patterned to create a wide array of responses and emotions. I stare at the monitor, expression blank - my task clashing with what I want to do. My arms are crossed and brows knitted, the millionth heavy sigh escapes my still lips. My brain bashes my thoughts, my fingers remain tucked away. My mind is kicking over and over like an engine whose battery is flat, I need to write a story, it's like being asked to make dinner with bare cupboards. 

My eyes peek over my computer screen to see Mr Drake looking at me with a small smirk. I've been in many conferences with Mr Drake but I've never really had an interest in him until now. My cheeks heat up before I continue with writing. Finally, the meeting is over and we all begin to exit the room. It seems that only he noticed my distracted state.

"Miss (L/N), I would like to talk to you." Mr Drake calls out.

A few jealous co-workers glare at me as they leave. I collect my things and move toward him, placing my belongings on the table. My fingers play with the pen I hold loosely in my hand nervously.

"If it's about the thing before, I am very sorry and I won't do it again!" I blurt out.

"I honestly don't care about that, these meetings bore the hell out of me. I don't blame you for being productive with your time." He chuckles.

"Oh, uh thanks?" I reply awkwardly.

"Anyway, I was hoping you would maybe like to go out on a date tomorrow." He says nervously.

Words left me. I stare into his bright blue eyes, and my heart falls silent. I can't will my lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything is slow and warbled as he waits for my reply. But my mind is blank and my eyes wide as I stare at him in shock. His eyes desperately search mine... waiting. I have to say something! I searched my mind for something reasonable to say, but to my surprise, my heart answered for me.

"I love to, Mr Drake!" I say excitedly.

"(Y/N) please just call me Tim," He chuckles, clearly relieved.

I nod and notice his eyes drift to my laptop, his lips pursed like he is holding back his words.

"I was writing a novel." I shyly say.

"Can I read it?" He asks.

"Uh, sure"  I reply.

We both sit down and I quickly log on to my laptop and open my draft.  I feel giddy with excitement. I want to run, to shout, to tell everyone what is happening...but I have to wait. My mind is like a butterfly, whatever distraction I choose for myself my mind and eyes keep fluttering back to the man sitting next to me. Then I'd get that tingly feeling all over again. The sight of the small movements of his lips causes my blush to become brighter. His face scrunches up for a second before he speaks.

"Is there a word between angry and sad?" He asks.

"Malcontented, disgruntled, miserable, desolated" I reply.

"Smad." He whispers.

"Oh my God." I sigh in defeat.

As soon as he smiles at me, my fear and embarrassment is whisked away like a bunch of fruit-flies caught in a massive gust of wind. Excitement rushes through my veins. Happiness flares in his eyes and for the first time in a while it begins to in mine as well. Even if the world around me started collapsing, my heart would not get crushed as long as I am looking at him.

"I can't wait to read more." He announces.

We gather our things and stand up. I scribble my number on a piece of spare paper and pass it to him.

"Here's my number so you can send me the details for tomorrow. I'll see you soon." I exclaim.

I exit the room and head for my desk, tomorrow is going to be one hell of a night. I mean, it's not every day that Bruce Wayne's son asks you out on a date.