Dick Grayson one shots

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This one's for @Rarry09 :)

Dick flipped over another batarang. Curse the blasted Bat and his little munchkins. They always had to show up and try to stop him from getting his prize. They never quite managed though. That was one reason his employment rate was so high he supposed.

Rounding the corner, Dick adjusted his mask, cursing its unfortunate tendency to fall off, something he could hardly afford with the Batman hovering around him.

Not that it would matter. Dick had never met anyone rich enough to afford all of Batman's shiny toys... he'd stolen from some of them though, meaning the Bat very well might have a personal vendetta against him... yeah, best to just avoid the man and his children/sidekicks in their fancy pajamas.

A batarang startled Dick from his spiral of thought. He heard it before he felt it slicing across his cheek. He'd never understand how the man kept those so sharp. Did he keep a constant supply of new ones? Did they collect them after a fight? If so, who was slaving away down in his super lair sharpening and filing the dents out of those boys?

Dick shook his head, second spiral of thought. He needed a nap. He flipped away from the heroes and tried his best to melt into the shadows, something he was all too good at.

As he'd hoped, Batman and his little munchkins swung past him. A job well done.

Double checking that all the Bats were gone, Dick emerged from where he'd concealed himself and headed towards his rendezvous point.

—

Dick slid the files across the table, keeping his hand on them until the man employing him handed him an envelop containing the agreed amount of cash.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Dick said with a smile, melting into the shadows and making his exit.

—

Dick smiled across the checkout counter at the next customer, finishing scanning their last item of produce and asking if they'd prefer to pay with cash or card.

A cashier job at a local grocery store wasn't the most glamorous day job, especially considering the excitement of his night job, but Dick thrived off of the social interaction, even if he was only paid minimum wage and only allowed to work part time.

He waved goodbye to one customer, and greeted the next, glancing over his shoulder. His gaze lingered on the police academy that sprawled across the street.

It was ironic that someone who spent a good chunk of their time breaking and running from the law wanted nothing more than to be a police officer. Alas, he didn't have the means to make that happen. Hence his day job.

On top of paying for his own rent and groceries, Dick's neighbor, a sweet old lady who'd always bring him freshly baked goodies, hadn't been able to keep up with the rapidly rising price of housing, so for years he'd been paying for her groceries and rent as well. An act of kindness that ensured his seemingly eternal lack of money.

And thus his two jobs.

Dick greeted his next customer, welcoming in the day's monotony.

—

Dick's phone buzzed, and he cracked his eyes open, shaking himself from the blanket of sleep that had previously enveloped him. "Hello?" He said, voice still carrying a hint of drowsiness.

"Nyx I presume?" A man on the other end of the phone asked.

Dick raised an eyebrow at the use of the name the police had taken to calling him. He never knew whether to be insulted by it or honored. Being named after the Greek goddess of the night was cool, but he was never sure whether the officers had been trying to make some sort of a point by calling him the name of a Greek lady... perhaps he'd never know.