#miss this dude even with his tragic bleached hair

[kurly-quill]

Hiya, hon! Ask, and you shall recieve <3 (when I get off my ass anyway)

Robin’s Nest Cafe Part 2

Pairings: DickTim, JayDick, JayTim, future JayDickTim

Rating: Mature for Language 

Coffee Shop AU (sort of), Civilian!Tim (mostly?) Part 1 - Part 2 

(2) The Nest

In the past four years or so, it became a well-kept secret in East End, that if you ever needed a safe place to shut your eyes, you might find it at The Nest. They don’t take names. They don’t ask any questions, and will take in anyone of any age. You’ll get a clean room, with a clean bed, and a square meal. Rumor even has it that folks sometimes leave The Nest with things like new job prospects or that last refill of medication you couldn’t afford in your pocket.

It’s not a long-term arrangement, but it helps when the winter rolls in and  you don’t want to freeze to death.

The shop is quiet. But then, it’s never particularly busy either. Like, ever. She spends more time practicing her latte art than taking orders (“You’ll never get paid to doodle cats, young lady!” they used to tell her in high school. Well joke’s on you, Ms. Maximoff)

Tim is standing beside her at the counter, carefully wiping down the espresso machine like it’s his baby -- kind of accurate, since the only thing he loves more than that machine is her, obviously. Maybe. He better, anyway, if he knows what’s good for him.

It’s midway through her shift. Idly, she stacks the little espresso cups into a pyramid, knowing that Tim is silently judging her for it (“You realise we can’t use the cups now that you’ve touched all of them, right?” “So narrow-minded, Timmy. We can definitely use them for shots later!”).

Like Tim can’t afford the cups or something. But, appearances are still important for a place like this, she supposes. Barely getting by, but passed the health inspection! - that’s the look they’re apparently going for to the public eye.  She gets it. Robin’s Nest cafe isn’t supposed to be high profile, or else The Nest loses its purpose. She flicks at her tower of espresso cups, leaning over the counter with her chin propped up on her hand, musing.

She thinks of a few years ago, remembers being at the end of her rope. How she had been ignoring the rumors about The Nest, passing them off as bullshit, until a cold front hit Gotham so hard it even had the Gotham-grade criminals running for cover. She remembers  finally caving to the rumors, looking across the street at Robin’s Nest, brightly lit compared to the sorry excuses for street lamps that lined the sidewalk. Shivering, blue-lipped. All of the closest shelters were full, and the last time she’d slept in one, she’d woken up to a man reaching under her sheets, so like hell was she going back to one if she had other options.

She remembers her vow to herself-- that whatever happened, she wasn’t going back home.  She would have frozen in an alleyway somewhere before that happened.

She remembers jaywalking across the icy street to the sidewalk just outside the shop window. But, as soon as she had gotten there, had taken a better look at the interior, she’d hesitated. A sort of hipster-industrial look with some hodge-podge, DIY-esque decor that’s not too shiny and clean and just worn enough to seem lived-in and welcoming-- It was that last part, of all things, that had made her clam up inside. Made her turn around to find some alleyway to go lose some toes in.

She probably would have, she muses, wiggling her toes around in her Adidas, if Tim hadn’t caught her just as she went to turn around the corner of the block. He’d ran out of the shop in nothing but a long-sleeve “World’s Okayest Barista” shirt, skinny jeans, and converse, all messy dark hair and pale blue eyes, and he had looked about three seconds from turning into an icicle. But in his hand, had been a drink.

“What d’you want,” she demands, defenses up on autopilot.

The barista fairly skids to a stop on the icy sidewalk, breath coming in visible plumes. The drink is shoved in her face-- she can see that it’s piping hot, and she’s suddenly acutely aware of how her nose and lips ache with cold.

“Take it. It’s hot chocolate.”

“Wow,” she deadpans, quirking a brow, “this is, like, a classic case of stranger danger.”

She notes how hard the barista is beginning to shiver, and wondered if he’s just an idiot for running after a homeless person on the wrong side of Gotham in ass-degree-and-dropping temperatures. (And in that getup, too, that screams: “please, oh please, ma’am, rob me, I’m a little nerdboy!” She could do it, probably, if she really wanted to.)

The barista grins sheepishly at her, shrugging.

“Okay, fair. I can make you another one back at the shop and you can watch me to make sure it’s safe to drink, if it makes you feel better.” She blinks at him. An idiot, definitely.

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but I’m broke.”

The barista holds up one finger. He fishes around in his pocket, pulls out his wallet (an open invitation to snatch it, that), and tugs out a little card. He holds it out to her, and she watches him carefully before taking it and reading-- she frowns. Flips the card over. The little card is small and sleek-- heavier than paper, PVC?-- and has a single bird-like symbol on the front. The back only reads:

For One - Redeemable at The Nest

“It’s a coupon.”

She swallows. No way.

“For a drink?”

The barista tucks his hands into his pockets. She wonders if he’s doing it because he thinks it looks cool or if it’s because he’s lost feeling in his hands. When she meets his eyes again, though, she’s distracted by how they sharpen with focus, flashing with a secret.

“Sure,” he concedes, shrugging again, “Or a room, if you want it. On the house.”

She blinks at him once. Twice. “You’re fucking nuts, aren’t you?”

The barista lets out a startled laugh, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. It shouldn’t be cute, and she really shouldn’t go there, but there it is. She’s officially the type to be charmed by dorky, early 2000s, sk8er boi aesthetic.

“Jury’s still out.”, then holds out a hand that’s white with cold, “I’m Tim.”

She notices that he doesn’t ask for her name, and she thinks over whether she should even tell him. After all, she’s only about 85% sure the guy’s not batshit crazy. But then, she’s probably in good company.

Oh, what the hell, she thinks, letting herself smile back at him. She takes his hand, and can’t even feel it with how numb her fingers are.

“Well, it’s Gotham, so crazy’s just the status quo around here. Also, name’s Stephanie,” she pauses and adds, more quietly, “And I think I’ll take you up on that room”

Tim shakes their hands minutely, and the movement has pinpricks of pain shooting up to her elbow, but already she somehow feels warmer.

“Oh, thank God,” he sighs, relieved, already turning to walk back towards the cafe, “I can officially no longer feel my ass. I barely had one to begin with. Please, let’s go inside.”

And, despite how cold she is, and how she aches, and how absolutely, completely shitty her life is right now, she bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over. It’s a miracle that she doesn’t fall over, considering she can’t feel her legs.

“I feel that. Not so much the last part though. My ass is great,” she snickers, trying to regain her composure. She sidles up just behind Tim’s shoulder to follow him back down the block.

“But, hey, you know, I’ll still take you up on that hot chocolate if you’re still offering.”

“I think I can manage that.”

She’s jarred from her reminiscing by the bell above the shop door. In an instant, she’s baring her teeth in the default hello, I work in food service, so please don’t be a prick!! smile.

“Hello!” she sings, upbeat, “Welcome to Robin’s Nest!”

Behind her, Tim’s got his back turned towards the entrance, wiping down the back counter and pointedly leaving her to do the customer servicing. She hopes he can feel her glare. Asshole.

She then turns her head and wind up locking eyes with a man in uniform. She balks.

Oh damn, says one part of her brain, because wow that’s a nicely-fit uniform.

Oh shit, says the another part of her brain, because that’s a police uniform.

Oh fuck, says the rest of  her brain, because that’s Richard Grayson in a police uniform.

No, like, the fucking Richard Grayson™ .

Richard-fucking-Grayson gives her a smile that’s whiter than bleached tile floors, brighter than the goddamn sun in Metropolis. Stephanie’s missing all of her customer service cues and she will blame it entirely on that smile in the future if Robin’s Nest gets a bad review.

“Uh,” she says dumbly, standing up straight so fast she manages to knock all of her espresso cup pyramid over. She makes an aborted movement to try and stop them, realizes it’s a lost cause, so instead just stares Richard-fucking-Grayson in the face and lets them all fall in a tragic, drawn-out cacophony of noise as they clatter, one-by-one to the floor. Total power move.

The noise has Tim whirling around towards the front -- “Steph, what the-” -- but then he falls mute as he gets an eyeful of Gotham royalty in a police uniform. Yeah, same here, dude.

The silence goes on for so long that it’s become decidedly uncomfortable, so Steph tears her eyes away from glances in Tim’s direction --

And yep, that’s the creepy Tim.exe has stopped working stare of death that happens when his brain goes full-on computer mode and he forgets how to emote (It’s either because he’s worried there’s a cop in The Nest, or because Officer Grayson is just that hot. Actually, it’s probably both). Christ, he’s not even blinking-- they’ve had a talk about this, Timmy, get your shit together. “Hello! Hi!” she says, too loudly, diverting the officer’s (increasingly growing) concerned gaze back to her, “Can I take your order?”

The last cup makes a final, agonizing descent to the floor in the beat of silence that follows, while Richard Grayson blinks, a little amused but not overly surprised by the fact that he’s apparently been recognized.

“Hi,” he replies, too-bright smile back in place, “Sorry if I surprised you?” “No worries, Mr. Grayson. Just don’t usually get celebrities on this side of town,” Steph leans against the counter, falling back into her default teasing, “Just tell me you’re here cause of a good Yelp review or something, cause I plead the fifth if it’s for anything else.”

“Just call me Dick, please,” Dick chuckles, “And I just happened to be passing through. A friend told me that this place serves the best hot chocolate this side of Gotham.”

Tim twitches. “Bullshit,” Steph quips, “We serve the best hot chocolate in all of Gotham. Total, unbiased truth!”

Dick grins, “Then I guess that’s what I’m having.”

Steph smiles wide, making a show of punching the buttons on the register system, “I’ll be gentle with you, since it’s your first time -- Tim, one classic chocolate, for the man in blue!”

. . .

She looks again to her left when there’s no movement. Oh for the love of Wonder Woman--

“Tim.”

Tim snaps out of it with a visible jerk, blinking wide eyes as the past five minutes seem to play at hyperspeed through that ridiculous brain of his, and he opens his mouth.

“Right, yes. Okay. I can, that. Chocolate, sure. Hot. ” is what comes out, even as Tim’s eyes widen in horror at himself, the skin of his neck and ears beginning to flush red with embarrassment.

Steph’s jaw drops, because she’s never seen Timothy Jackson Drake lose composure like this in all three years she’s known him (not even counting that one time sex turned into a trip to the hospital that they both agreed to never speak of again). And well, she had never pegged Tim for a fanboy of all things, let alone of Dick Grayson, but there he is, moving through the motions of making his signature hot chocolate with the grace and poise of a robot chicken.

Dick, for his part, is looking at Tim in the bemused way one tends to look at a toddler that’s doing something a little bit weird but otherwise harmless. Steph is the best wing-woman ever, because she clears her throat to try and get his attention again instead of the other barista.

“Sooooo that’ll be 4.89,” Steph declares, “Will that be cash or card?”

Her tactic is thwarted -- Dick continues to look at Tim in mildly amused fascination as he digs around in his pocket before pulling out a few rumpled bills and, like, six Jolly Rancher wrappers. She tries not to judge too hard when the whole wad is pressed into her hand, even though they’re a little sticky.  

She hands him his change before turning to see that Tim has finished the hot chocolate, complete with the snowflake-covered cup sleeves that Steph spent nearly three hours doodling that morning with a silver Sharpie (“Starbucks makes festive cup sleeves, Tim! We can’t be beaten by the competition!” “Why do I even pay you?”). However, Tim is just staring at the cup like it holds the solution to world peace and also this painful interaction. Steph clears her throat, and he flinches again. He slides the cup to the edge of the counter, way too slowly, like he’s thinking about it too hard, and Dick reaches for the cup in the way someone might approach a skittish animal. His hand closes around the cup and he lifts it, watching Tim’s face as he lifts it to his mouth. “Thanks,” he says with a gentle smile, but Tim steadfastly refuses to look the police officer in the eye. Arguably, this is worse, because instead he’s staring at the guy’s pecs. The barista then retreats from the counter, takes a full step back, mumbles something that was probably a “You’re welcome”.

“Well come on,” Steph interrupts, “I reserve the right to see you take the first sip.” Dick raises an eyebrow at her, teasing, “I’ll have you know that the Wayne butler makes some really great hot chocolate. It’ll be tough to beat.”

“Quit stalling and drink the liquid diabetes, Grayson.”

Without breaking eye contact with Steph, he does just that. Steph’s smirk grows when the man’s eyes grow wide.

He swallows, the flavor washing over his tongue, and looks down at his cup in amazement. Takes another drink, and groans. It’s a sound that Steph’s sure she’s heard on one of the more trashy pornos on her laptop, and knows it’s not just her mind going straight to the gutter when she sees Tim’s ears go bright red. “Wow.”

Stephanie grins, smug, “Like I said -- best hot chocolate in all of Gotham”

“I’m a believer now,” Dick says solemnly, taking another long sip. “God. Tell your management to open a store in Bludhaven -- I could single-handedly keep the business afloat if I could drink this every day.”

Steph snorts, jerking her thumb at Tim, who’s staring resolutely at the far wall.

“Tell him yourself, maybe then he’ll listen. I keep saying we should expand! If you ask me, every shithole town with a Robin running around the streets deserves Robin’s Nest to go with it.” Tim breaks his stupor to glance at Steph in a way that she’s come to learn is a warning, which she resists the urge to roll her eyes at.

Dick outright laughs. “Heh, well these days I’d say Bludhaven sees just as much of Robin as Gotham” Dick chuckles, “Might need to relocate entirely with criteria like that.”

He slides his gaze to Tim.

“Not that it’d be a bad idea to move shop. Seriously, Bludhaven has a lot of up and coming neighborhoods -- You would get more customers than you probably get in this area, and if the rest of your menu is as good as this hot chocolate, you’d be pretty popular.”

At this, Tim freezes, then turns, his face twisting into a slight frown, “Robin’s Nest belongs in Gotham,” he says, clipped, “Besides, we do just fine here.” The officer blinks, suddenly looking into sharp, ice-blue eyes that until this moment had refused to look at him.

“I’m sure you have some faithful regulars, around here,” Dick says slowly, a bit placating, “but I know Gotham pretty well, and a bit about business,” he pauses and says, not unkindly, but it nonetheless has Tim’s spine going rigid, “You’d get more revenue if you relocated down to somewhere in Midtown, even the residential areas. Why don’t you?”

Tim’s eyes flash, but nothing else gives away his irritation. Instead, he tilts his head in a curious gesture. “Well,” there’s a calm lilt to his voice as he asks, “Gotham pays its officers a higher average salary than Bludhaven. Why don’t you move?”

Dick’s jaw drops for a second at the barb, blinking. Then, his brilliant blue eyes light up with humor, and he laughs, long and loud. Even that sounds attractive, which is so unfair that Steph glares at the dangerous tilt of his take-away cup, willing it to spill on his uniform. The officer regains his composure, chuckles dying down as he regains his composure. “Woah, okay, touché then!” he acquiesces with a shrug, “But on that point -- It’s not really about the salary, the job. I work in Bludhaven because I’m needed there.”

At that, Tim’s blank face slips into a smirk. Steph sighs as he unties his apron and slips off his ball cap, clearly deciding that he’s done playing Customer Service for the time being. That means Steph is going to be manning the counter alone for the next few hours. Thanks a lot, Grayson. Steph doesn’t miss the way Dick’s gaze flicks interestedly to Tim’s fingers sliding through his too-long hair, brushing back and it away from his face. Steph feels the need to nod in solidarity. She found that move kinda hot too, once.

For a second, it’s not Tim the Barista standing there. Instead, it’s Timothy Drake, and Dick seems to stand straighter in attention. “Then maybe, Officer Grayson,” he surmised, in that slightly condescending way that Steph reckoned only those bred in high society could recreate, “Robin’s Nest is exactly where it needs to be.”

At that, Dick hums in what is more a surrender than an agreement. Wise, Steph thinks, to keep his mouth shut and spare himself the verbal lashing. Dick doesn’t seem to look very cowed, though, she notes, so much as intrigued.

Satisfied, Tim carefully lays his apron and hat on the far end of the counter, and passes through the front counter’s the swing-gate. He gets to the door at the far wall that Steph knows leads up into the stairwell that connects the rest of the building’s floors, Tim’s attached apartment included. Dicks eyes follow him all the way there.

“Hey Steph, can you hold down the fort for awhile while I go up? I need to do the ordering for next week.”

Steph sighs dramatically, gesturing to Dick. “What, and leave me alone with all these customers?”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Just pick up all the cups off the floor -- and no more building towers with the espresso cups!” Steph sticks her tongue out at him before he closes and locks the door. “Spoil sport.”

Dick is quiet for a few seconds, before he sighs, “I feel like I should apologize for pushing.” Steph stands up from where she’s crouching on the floor, her arms full of fallen espresso cups. Dumping them into the recycling bin under the counter, she huffs her hair out of her face, humming thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t take it too personally -- Tim just gets pretty touchy about the shop,” she hesitates, before continuing a bit more quietly “It was important to him, growing up. He bought the place after his parents died.”

At this, Dick’s expression falls, and suddenly she’s being hit with the most beseeching blue eyes she’s ever seen. Jesus H. Christ, those have to be against the Geneva Conventions.

“Would you tell him I’m sorry?  I didn’t mean to offend him. . .” Steph physically resists the urge to wince at the intensity of the look, waving him off, “Yeah, sure, fine, I’ll tell him. Just jeez, quit it with the eyes.”

The eyes are still in the realm of small kicked animal, but less Sarah McLachlan, so Steph manages to survive as Dick’s expression turns thoughtful.

“Thank you.” A beat, then, “I think I’ll order another hot chocolate, actually, if you don’t mind.”

At that Steph raises an eyebrow, “For the road?” Dick clicks his tongue. "No,” he says, blue eyes twinkling with something like mischief, his grin suddenly sharp. His eyes, however, turn to the door that Tim had disappeared behind.

“It’s for a friend.”

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To be fair, Steph lasts a whole 23 minutes.

“Hey, I mean, Timmy didn’t say anything about building towers with any of the other cups.”

#im really stephanie brown that's my secret #this is super dialogue heavy and that is not my forte so lets see how it goes #kurly writes #kurly answers #tim drake #stephanie brown #dick grayson #dickjaytim #dicktim #jaytim #dc #dc comics #batman #redhood #nightwing #robin #red robin #dickjay #dick/jay/tim #civilian!tim #Coffeeshop!AU #Robin's Nest AU #part 2

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

The Misadventures of Prince Kim - chapter 65

All you new followers I know perfectly well you’re all Kim fans, just like me. Anyway, if you have like 17 years of free time, here is 247,000+ words of a royalty AU Kim being a Kimbecile (though it’s nearly finished, I swear, and it’s way stupider than it sounds)

Also on AO3 so you can read it from the beginning, which would make so much more sense

Kim made sure not to be late for this year’s Peace Ball. He didn’t want any more servants challenging him to hopeless lacrosse matches this time round, and anyway, now that he was officially a part of the International Alliance, it would be best to make a good impression. He was welcomed into the hall with his name and title announced over the speakers, then left to fend for himself.

This time things did appear to be somewhat more relaxed. It seemed that the simple act of the ball taking place in Lahiffe was enough for all these upper status people to chill out a little, which was nice. There was much more laughter to be heard over the energetic music Prince Nino was playing from the corner, and far fewer judgemental looks aimed Kim’s way.

He found Max almost straightaway, right near the entrance of this giant hall itself.

“Kim!” Max rushed over, a huge smile on his face. “You look amazing!”

Kim was very tempted to pull Max into a close hug, as he often did, but held back. Technically he wasn’t officially out yet, and who knew what the rest of the International Alliance would think? Things were too precarious now to risk it.

“You look amazing too,” he said, putting on a smile. Max saw through it immediately.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Kim ran a hand through his hair, wondering how to put it – then quickly put his hand back down when he realized he would be ruining it after all his hours of hard work. “I’m just kinda nervous. There’s all these people here, leaders of the most powerful countries in the world, and I’m the newbie, so like… I mean, I’m not scared or anything, I’m just…”

He was scared, though. His childhood days of being totally fearless were over. The terrifying events of the past year had taught him that consequences existed, severe consequences, and he couldn’t afford to make one wrong move. His country was relying on him.

“And you know what Master Fu told me at the oracle session,” he continued. “The timelines are gonna split again, and in one I’ll be able to go home this summer but in the other I won’t. And timeline splits in the past have always been really bad! What if I accidentally cause a…”

“A war?” Max asked. He took hold of one of Kim’s hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. There won’t be a war.”

“How do you know?”

“My oracle session, not this one, but the one last year. I asked if my country would go to war within the next 10 years and the answer was no. Considering that when one member of the International Alliance goes to war the rest will follow, it seems unlikely that you’ll cause anything. Otherwise my country would be dragged in too!”

So there wouldn’t be a war? Oh, thank goodness!

Kim squeezed Max’s hand in return, a genuine smile on his face now. “That’s a relief. Thanks, Max.”

“You’re very welcome. And anyway, no matter what happens, I’m here for you. All of us are.”

That was so cheesy and cute, Kim knew he was blushing. “You’re too good for me, honestly. But if there’s not gonna be a war, then what could cause the timeline split? Why wouldn’t I be able to go home? I mean, I guess maybe I could die or something, but–”

“Shhhhh, you’re not dying on my watch.”

“But you and Alix have had your turns, can’t I get to die a horrible death too? It’s not fair otherwise!”

Max chuckled. “Oh Kim… if anyone’s listening in on this conversation they’d probably think we’re nuts…”

That was a good point! Kim quickly looked around to check if anyone important was nearby, but all he saw was some foreign princess watching them, who choked on her drink and turned away blushing when she noticed that he’d caught her. No one important then.

“So anyway, back to death and despair,” he said. “Do you think I’ll die and cause a timeline split?”

“I have no idea, but I hope not. You’re in excellent health, you should be totally fine.”

That didn’t mean that some tragic accident couldn’t befall him, or that he couldn’t just suddenly get ill, like last year when he’d caught the flu during the pandemic. But seeing Max’s unhappy face, Kim dropped the topic.

“Where’s Markov?” he asked. “I know he doesn’t even count as royalty or nobility or anything like that so he probably wasn’t even invited, but…”

“Oh, he is invited!” Max said, smile back on his face. “He’s considered a guest of honour and part of the royal family of Kanté.”

“Really? That’s awesome! Where is he?”

Max shrugged. “Somewhere in here, I think. He told me he didn’t want to get in the way when I ask you to dance with me.”

Kim’s heart leapt up. “You’re gonna dance with me?”

“Yes, of course, just like last year except better. Nino’s got something planned. Come on!”

Still holding his hand, Max pulled Kim along behind him towards the dancefloor, where many of Nino’s kid relatives were goofing around in a way that reminded Kim of how he and Marinette used to be when they were little. Oh, how he missed those carefree days…!

The next thing he saw, an adorable little puppy was barking away and running across the room, leading to excited gasps from most of the onlookers. The puppy ran up to the DJ table and leapt into Nino’s arms. Nino laughed and ruffled the little dog’s fur, planting a kiss on its head.

Nino’s family had a pet dog? Huh, Kim had never known that. There seemed to be a lot about Nino that no one knew.

Close enough now, Max waved at Nino, who winked back and pressed a button on his soundboard. Within a few seconds the current song had faded out and something very familiar was playing over the speakers instead…

The jive from the party in January!

Without even saying anything, Kim pulled Max into the very centre of the dancefloor and continued right from where they’d left off almost a year ago, the sound of Max’s laughter washing away any fear he had. This was so much fun – why couldn’t all royal events be more like this? The Lahiffe Kingdom really had the right idea!

Within a few minutes they were not the only ones. Queen Sol herself had turned up to join in, bending down to dance with one of Nino’s adorable tiny cousins, and soon many more of the guests made their way over to join the fun. It seemed that plenty of International Alliance members were nowhere near as stuck-up as they seemed. What a relief, maybe they’d think well of Kim after all…

-

While all that was going on, Alix had found her way to a deserted corner of the room with Markov whizzing along behind her to keep an eye on her.

“You don’t need to babysit me,” she said to him, leaning against one of the pillars that was secluding this area. “I already get enough of that from Jalil. So please tell me you’re just here to chat.”

“Not quite,” Markov said, his eyes flicking down to the bottle in her hand. “I don’t think you should drink that.”

“Well why not? I’m 18 now, I’m allowed!” Just to spite him, she took a big swig from the bottle – only to start coughing. Ew, this stuff was like rotten grape juice mixed with bleach! Worse than anything else she’d ever had, and that was saying something.

Markov’s fans whirred louder for a second, as if he was sighing. “First of all, it is considered an acquired taste. Second, though you may be 18, you are very small in size and therefore you will be affected much faster and more heavily. Third, it is unwise of you to drink unsupervised, especially considering how reckless you can be even without any ethanol in you. Fourth, you’re supposed to pour it in a glass and drink it!”

While he had been speaking, Alix had braced herself and drank more of this stuff. At first it was searing, burning her throat like acid. But after a few sips it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was sort of nice, like molten lava running down her gut.

“I can drink it how I want,” she snapped. “Other royalty events and stuff only ever have soft drinks, so this might be my only chance to see what it feels like. Bless the Lahiffe Kingdom for being so chill.” With that, she took another few sips. It was making her feel all warm inside, the ends of her fingers tingling slightly. No wonder people liked this stuff.

“You should slow down at least,” Markov suggested. “I would hate to be responsible for you throwing up in front of everyone…”

Oh, he was right about that. She sat down on the ground and put the bottle down beside her. The snake was feeling strangely heavy on her shoulders, so she put it down on the ground too.

“That’s better.” Markov floated down to her level. “Did you have water? Anything to eat?”

She poked that little face of his, giggling slightly. “You do sound like Jalil. Maybe it’s a nerd thing – all nerds are squares who sound exactly the same. Did Max programme you to be a nerd on purpose? Uh wait… what did you ask again? I wasn���t listening.”

Markov shook his head. “It is already affecting you. That makes sense, considering your height.”

“’Scuse me? Me being short doesn’t mean anything, thank you very much!” She grabbed the bottle and stood up again just to be able to look down on him, though her feet seemed to have a bit of a mind of her own.

“If you drink much more then you’ll have a headache tomorrow,” Markov said.

“Pfffff, hangovers aren’t real. That’s just a movie thing, isn’t it?”

“No, they are real.”

“Whatever. I don’t care. And how do you know so much about all this, anyway? Robots can’t drink!” She took another swig from the bottle, her hands going slightly numb at the ends now.

“It’s called research,” Markov said, “and perhaps you should do some too at some point so that next time you can drink more responsibly.”

“Markov, dude, there won’t be a next time. This is probably the only chance ever, or at least in a long time and – wait is this an earthquake? No, it’s just me… okay never mind…”

Alright, she was getting a little dizzy now. She grabbed Markov out of the air to stabilize herself and didn’t realize that it hadn’t worked until she found herself sitting on the floor again. Without thinking she raised the bottle to her lips again, only for Markov to wrench himself out of her grasp and take it away from her. She tried to snatch it back, but somehow he was moving too fast – how was he doing that?

“I think you have had enough,” he said. “You should probably leave it there for now unless you want to be unable to even walk back to your room later.”

The thought of trying to walk and tripping all over the place was inexplicably hilarious to her, and she was giggling over it before she knew it. Even funnier was the thought that a robot, of all things, was giving her a lecture on responsible drinking. “Maybe you’ll have to carry me! I’m small, right? Can you carry me?”

Markov giggled a little too. “Of course I can’t carry you! You may be small, but I am much smaller.”

“Yeah, true. I guess I gotta get someone else then, like Kim. Good thing he didn’t drink any of the stuff ‘cause he’s way stupider than me. Or did he drink any? What’s he even doing? Snogging Max, probably. Or would he do that here? I don’t know. How I am now is how he’s like all the time, so maybe he’s doing something stupid like always.”

“I believe he is dancing with Max.”

“Good, I hope they’re happy. I was the one who got them together. Did you know that? I’m the best. They’re both idiots.”

“You are using ‘idiots’ as a term of endearment, right?”

Those words took far longer than usual to process in Alix’s brain. “Yeah, yeah, I insult them all the time. They’re my friends so I’m allowed.”

For some reason it was getting harder to make herself pronounce words properly. She tried to reach for the bottle again but Markov slapped her hand away. Weirdly enough, it barely even hurt. Did this count as being drunk? Because in that case, it was awesome.

“Will you keep being friends with them when school is finished?” Markov asked.

“Yeah, duh,” she replied. “Max lives like a tiny plane ride away and we were already friends before, I can hang out with him whenever I want. And Kim… wait…”

A terrible thought occurred to her. She tried to get to her feet but her limbs simply weren’t responding, so she clumsily grabbed Markov out of the air again and held him right up near her face to hear her properly.

“His oracle sesh… shhs… thing! This summer, either he’ll go back home, or some bad thing will happen to him, and we don’t know which! And both suck, ‘cause I don’t want bad things happening to my friend, but if he goes home it’s so far away and I won’t see him for so long!”

It was getting more and more impossible to visualize a world map in her head, but the kingdom of Lê Chiến was all the way on another continent, and there were definitely no airports there. If Kim went back, he’d probably stay there for literal years.

“But you will be able to speak to him by telephone,” Markov said, the little propellers on his head spinning around in a way that made Alix’s head hurt.

“Only if they fix the tele… those cable things which Agreste broke. And that’s not the point! He’s… him… friend…”

Being drunk was suddenly starting to feel a lot less awesome. Letting go of Markov, she lurched over and grabbed the bottle, only to put it back down when the taste started to sicken her. Maybe she had drank it too fast after all.

“He is your friend and so you don’t want him to leave for a long time,” Markov said. “It will make you unhappy. That makes sense.”

She nodded, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her spinning head on them. “I never had close friends before. Not like him. And no one will think I care that much ‘cause I’m not Max…”

“Are you crying?”

“N-no!” She gave him a shove. Was it the drink that made her all emotional? This was really starting to suck. “I’ll miss him, okay? Is that bad? I don’t want him to leave me… Is that shellfish? Am I shell… no… sh… shhh…”

Markov was laughing at her, and she was overcome by the strange urge to hit him. Her arm was already up in the air before she stopped herself – why would she hit a robot? That was mean. And selfish. There, she could say the word in her head. So why not out loud?

“Stop laughing, you know what I mean!” She settled for giving the stupid robot another shove, though her coordination was so off that she almost missed. “I should just let him go home and not be sad. But no one else is that fun, you’re all killjoys! There’s no one else like him. He’s stupid and reckless and crazy and the best and oh my god I love him and why am I saying all this?!”

Markov had those upturned arch eyes, looking smug as ever. “You drank too much so your inhibitions are lowered. You are speaking what’s on your mind.”

“What? No!” That had been way too cheesy, no one could find out! She tried to grab Markov but missed. “No I was just… ignore all that! I was joking, I… I really don’t care…”

.-.. .. .- .-. the snake tapped out on the ground beside her.

“Oh shut up! I… look, don’t tell anyone what I said… one time he had a cold and I was saying all the mushy stuff to him ‘cause I thought he’d forget but he didn’t, and he’s already full of himshelf… sh… show-off… and I don’t want people thinking I’m all sh… shhh… oh fuck alcohol, I’m never drinking again, I can’t shay anything…”

Markov had been quietly chuckling away, but now stopped and looked at her with bigger eyes than usual. “Alix, are you a tsundere?”

Did he… did he just…?

“Markov,” she said, “are you a frickin’ weeb?”

“Um… Max introduced me to anime, and I do rather like it a lot, and I did a lot of research about it too. The tsundere seems to be a common archetype. Defensively hiding one’s sweet nature with aggression.”

Alix couldn’t even focus on what he was saying. The thought of Markov watching anime was just too ridiculous for her to wrap her head around. A robot, who watched anime. It was just bizarre!

“C’mere, you lil weeaboo.” She finally managed to grab him and pulled him into a cuddle. “You… you… yandere.”

“That is a highly inaccurate term when applied to me. Do you even know what that means?”

“No. Yes. It means you kill people.”

“Well, sort of.” He wriggled out of her grasp and landed on the ground just beside her sceptre – she didn’t even remember having put it on the ground. “I doubt you’ll remember much of this in the morning. May I see Pharaoh Rania again?”

“Hololologram? Whyyyyy?”

“I’m… studying her.”

His voice seemed to have gone all wispy and weird again, though it was hard to tell right now. Was he hiding something? Whatever. Alix flipped open the lid of the sceptre for Markov to have a look at. He went right up close, his dotted eyes growing larger and larger. Seriously, what was he studying? How to make holograms or something?

In any case, Alix was far too dizzy and tired to keep her eyes open much longer. Should she take a nap? Right here, in the hall where the Peace Ball was being held?

Yeah, it was fine. The snake would wake her up if she needed to do anything. Closing her eyes, she let herself doze off.

-

-

-

-

Over in the Bourgeois Empire, Chloé and Sabrina were standing in the room just behind the royal balcony, waiting for the emperor to show up to give his annual Yuletide speech to the common people. Of course, peering out of the window, it appeared that many of these common people were carrying flaming pitchforks, so perhaps it wasn’t a good idea this year.

Sabrina was shaking slightly. “Chloé, this is just like how it was back home before… you know…”

Before the Raincomprix civil war started. Chloé had been expecting it, really. She had been sitting in on her father’s meetings whenever possible, trying to change things as much as she could, but no one paid any attention to her! She was just some little schoolgirl to all the corrupt advisors running the empire. And it was very, very obvious that the commoners were not going to take this for much longer.

Why did her father need to take so much money from them, anyway? What was he using all that money for? Upgrading those solid gold bathtubs, probably. Sumptuous feasts. Lavish clothes. Things that commoners could never afford, and for no reason other than the fact that he could.

But what about food production? What about infrastructure, education, amenities? All the things Chloé had learnt how to handle at school? It seemed that her father had learnt no such lessons, as he paid no attention to the real issues that needed to be addressed. The common people of this empire were dying! They were starving, discontent, angry! And it was his fault!

If someone else didn’t step in soon, surely Bourgeois would go the same way as Raincomprix did.

“I’m going to go find him,” Chloé muttered, the grumbling from outside getting alarmingly loud. “He ought to have been here 10 minutes ago. You stay here, Sabrina.”

Sabrina nodded. Chloé walked out of the room as quick as her heavy, restrictive skirt would let her.

Her father would be in his office, right? She hurried over there to see that there were no guards around. What was up with that? She knocked on the door.

“Father? Are you in there? The people are waiting for your speech!”

The door opened and her father, wearing a thick coat, quickly pulled her inside and shut it again. “Chloé, good timing! The peasants will not accept my speech this year, you know it. We would be better off going into hiding. I’ve just finished packing all the emergency supplies, and arrangements have been made for us to safely get to Lavillant – I was just about to send someone to fetch you, in fact. Come on. Let’s go.”

He picked up a bag in the corner of the room and opened the bookcase to reveal a hidden passage behind it. Chloé was too shocked to even do anything for a few seconds. He wanted to go into hiding? Now?? Really??!

“What are you waiting for?” the emperor asked, gesturing to the passage. “Time to get going!”

She put her hands on her hips. “I am not going into hiding.”

“Are you worried? Fear not, I’ve been keeping aside plenty of money from the treasury for this very purpose. We will be very well-off. Better than we would be here, in this unsafe empire. It’s falling apart.”

And whose fault was that?

“No!” Chloé snapped, to her father’s surprise. “You don’t understand, do you? The commoners need a leader! That’s what they’ve been wanting this whole time! They need someone to fix the empire, which you broke, by the way.”

“Now, young lady–”

“Don’t you ‘young lady’ me! I would make a much better ruler than you ever did! We were one of the largest, richest empires in the world, and you’ve ruined all that! Made the commoners so unhappy they’re on the brink of revolting and harvesting our heads at the guillotine!”

Her father, eyes wide in shock, put a hand up to his neck. “That’s why we need to leave, now.”

“No, that’s why you need to leave now. I’m staying here.”

He was silent for several seconds, before finally managing to respond. “Chloé, if you stay… you’re just a child, you don’t know how to rule… you’ll die!”

How pathetic – how unbelievably, ridiculously pathetic. No wonder her mother had left him.

“You’re a coward,” she spat. “Running away when the empire needs you most. You know what? I’ll be empress instead. I’ll take full control of the mess you’ve left, I’ll leave school, and I’ll fix this.”

“You can’t be empress! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“Oh really? Says the man who has cost so many people their lives thanks to his mismanagement! This isn’t just about me. This is about millions of people who need help. And if you’re not going to help them, then I bloody well will. Now hand over your crown.”

He hesitantly took the crown off his head, but did not yet give it to her. “Chloé, please… I implore you… think this through…”

“I have thought it through. I’ve been trying to make a difference for a long time now, and me being empress is the only way anyone will let me. So give me the crown! I order you to!”

She held out her hand. Shaking, he slowly stepped forwards and placed the crown on her outstretched palm.

“Very good.”

She swiped the wig off her head, then put the crown over her natural hair. While it had always looked too small for her father, it was a perfect fit for her.

“Thank you, father. You are no longer emperor, and we have no need for your services. Now get out of here before I throw you to the commoners waiting for you just outside.”

He nodded and ran to the opening of the passage again. Then he paused, turned back, and quickly rushed over to hug his daughter one last time. Chloé tried very hard not to cry. It had been ever so long since her father had last hugged her, and it was a shame that such dire circumstances were the only thing that could drive him to do it.

Then he was gone for good.

Immediately, Chloé sank to her knees, the layers of her dress folding beneath her – oh, she was empress, she was empress. Was this real?

This was such a huge burden she had just put on herself. An empire in shambles, with a court full of schemers, and angry commoners wanting her blood. A situation like this was nigh-unfixable.

But she had to fix it. Someone had to do it, and this was her chance. She had to be strong!

And plus, she was not in this alone. She had Sabrina with her right here. She had her friends at school – oh of course, she would have to leave school. Running an empire was going to be a full-time job from now on, and anyway, there hadn’t been that long left.

There was the International Alliance too…

They hated the Bourgeois Empire. Not as much as they hated Agreste, of course, but they hated it all the same. But now that it needed aid, would they accept an aid request from somewhere so vile? Surely they would? The people here were suffering, and Chloé simply could not do this alone!

There was no time for freaking out over her predicament. The commoners were waiting for a speech. She cleared her throat, smoothed out her dress, then went back to the balcony room.

“Chloé? Is that your dad’s crown? What the–”

“I’ll explain in the speech,” Chloé whispered to Sabrina as she walked past. The guards in the room all stared at her in confusion, but considering she had the crown on her head, they did not do anything else and simply watched as she made her way out onto the balcony, to the surprise of the commoners down below her.

She hadn’t even prepared for this. Of course she knew how to make speeches, but this was one that would surely be important. The difference between saving the empire and dooming it. Could she do it? She at least had to try.

“People of Bourgeois,” she said into the megaphone placed before her, magnifying her voice across the hordes of people below. She tried to ignore the weapons in their hands, or the way the guards were pushing back against the ones at the front. “I know you were expecting a speech from my father. However, he is no longer the emperor. He has fled the palace. I am your leader now.”

There were gasps from all over. Chloé wondered if people were going to start revolting immediately, but for now they waited, wanting to see what kind of empress she would be first.

“I wish to make it clear that I am not usurping. My father knew he was doing a terrible job of ruling the empire. I knew it too. I sat in on countless meetings and tried to make my voice heard. But the emperor’s word is law, and so he has been allowed to take away your money, your food, your safety. All for his own selfish gain. And now he has fled, like the coward he is, and tried to take me with him. I refused. This empire is in shambles and someone needs to fix it, someone who can learn from all the mistakes he made. That someone is me, his daughter: Empress Chloé of Bourgeois.”

There was a silence. No one stirred, no one made any move to do anything. It seemed that the whole crowd was holding its breath. Chloé hands were shaking, so she balled them into fists to steady herself. No one must be allowed to see her terror. She had to show her citizens that she was strong, unlike her father.

“I do not know how quickly I will be able to enact changes in the way the empire is run. Most of the people in my employment were loyal to my father, so they may not agree with the path I am treading. But I promise you I will do everything in my power to do what is right. The most urgent matter at the moment is the shortage of food. My father was hoarding money in the treasury; I will redistribute that money to make sure there is enough food for everyone.”

The commoners were still silent, but many of them were starting to lower their weapons. It gave Chloé the courage she needed to continue. The next thing she wanted to say would be the hardest, but it had to be done.

“I am also temporarily cutting ties with the Agreste Empire, and rescinding the warrant for Imperial Prince Adrien. The funding that has been put into guards searching for him is money that would be better used elsewhere, such as food, infrastructure, or education. While Agreste and Bourgeois were never officially allied, my father took many bribes from them and I need that corrupt influence away from my court.”

Phew, she had said it. The guards and courtiers in the room behind her would be listening, and hopefully getting on with it as she was speaking. The sooner Adrien could safely return to school, the better.

“I will also be sending out aid requests to the International Alliance, as my father has ruined the empire far too much for us to handle alone. There are millions of people who need help, so we require all the assistance we can get. Hopefully this can get the empire back on our feet enough that the quality of life can improve for everyone, and not just the nobility.”

Most of the commoners had put down their weapons now, and many of them were… smiling?

“I will be leaving school from now on to stay here permanently to make my role as empress easier. Within time, once things are more stable, I will open up an elected council system so that citizens from all over the empire can have their voices heard and have a say in making decisions. I hope that you all will be happy with my decisions and support my reign. Well… what do you say?”

She put on a stately smile, leaning over the balcony railing. For a few seconds the commoners were still silent. But then began the chanting.

“Long live Empress Chloé! Long live Empress Chloé!”

They were pumping their fists in the air, jumping up and down, within a short amount of time becoming so loud and cheerful that Chloé could barely even hear herself think. Her smile grew – for now, at least, she had placated the commoners. If they were going to rebel, it was not going to be today. They were going to give her a chance.

Oh, thank goodness! She had done what her father couldn’t. Maybe things were going to turn out okay.

#TIME TO TAKE OVER THE EMPIRE #royalty au #miraculous ladybug #le chien kim #max kante #markov #alix kubdel #chloe bourgeois #random stuff #aish writes #the misadventures of prince kim