Other than the stories we’ve already chatted about... (Househunters AU.... the jaydicktim....) what about that one time some poor soul tried to rob the bar in the Tuesday Nights!verse and got punched in the face for his trouble?
I always love an excuse to write in the Tuesday Nights universe! Enjoy!
There’s a reason why Jason doesn’t keep a lot of cash on hand and makes regular bank runs when he does see an uptick in cash payments. That reason is staring him right in the face.
“Really?” he asks even as he raises his hands in the air.
He’s a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.
“Yeah, really,” the guy with the gun snarls and waves the barrel around for good measure. “Gimme whatcha got.”
Jason resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s a Tuesday night, I got maybe twenty bucks in the till and half that is a roll of quarters.”
“Just sayin’.” Jason shrugs and walks over to the cash register. “My register key is in my pocket,” he announces as he lowers one hand to dig out his keyring and find the aforementioned key. No point getting shot in the back by someone with a twitchy trigger finger.
Too bad Tim isn’t here right now. He doubts this would be happening if there was someone else in the bar besides him. But no, his boyfriend is tucked away upstairs working on some report that only makes sense to him and Tam.
Probably a good thing. He’d be tempted to go all ninja on this jackass.
Jason opens the register and takes out the till, turning to set it on the counter in front of the robber.
The man scowls as he takes a quick inventory. Jason hadn’t been kidding about the contents. “Where the fuck is the rest?”
“In the bank. This is a small bar and there’s not a soul in here besides you and me.” It’s hard not to provoke him, so Jason keeps back all the choice words he wants to spew.
“You gotta have a safe or somethin’,” the robber says in a rush. “C’mon, show me.” He waves the gun around again.
Motherfucker. There’s about two hundred bucks in change back in his office. Not a ton of cash, but more than Jason wants this shit-stain to walk away with. He knows all too well what it feels like to be desperate and hungry but even he never stooped to robbing a business at gunpoint.
No, he’d just wander in with empty pockets and wander right back out with slightly less empty pockets.
“Sure, whatever,” Jason says and marches to the end of the bar, ducking under the counter as he does.
The robber follows after him and presses the gun barrel against his neck as they walk to the back of the bar. “Don’t try nothin’ funny.”
“If I wanted to try anything, I’d have grabbed my gun.”
That makes the man’s breath hitch. “Why didn’t ya?”
“Because shooting someone over twenty bucks is a stupid way to die.” Jason unlocks his office and opens the door.
The safe is small and tucked away in a corner under the printer table Roy built. He kneels in front of it and enters the code.
Back in the bar comes the distinct sound of the kitchen door swinging open. “Hey, Jason! I’m at a good stopping point, do you want to…”
Tim’s voice causes the robber to spin around, shifting his attention from Jason just long enough for him to rise to his feet and kick him in the knee. The guy stumbles as his leg gives out and grabs the side of the desk to keep his balance.
“You fucker!” he cries out and raises the gun.
Jason grabs the man’s wrist and yanks hard, directing the gun at the floor. It goes off and a bullet sends chunks of polished concrete flying. “You’re the one trying to rob me, jackass.”
The guy shouts and tries to bring the gun back up, but Jason has too strong a hold on his arm to let him move. He spots Tim rushing down the short hall on silent feet, eyes wide as he takes in what’s going on. The expression his face changes from surprise to steely determination and before Jason can even blink, Tim strikes, arms moving in a blur of motion.
“Do I even want to know what you just did?” Jason eyes the now wannabe robber laying on the floor groaning and kicks the gun out into the hall.
Tim is rubbing his knuckles and frowning. “I punched him.”
“No, I punch people. You do creepy ninja stuff.”
“Jason, this guy had a gun.”
“No, shit. Really? I must have missed that.”
“He shot the floor, which is going to cost me more to fix than what this asshat tried to rob me for.”
Tim shakes his head. “You’re missing the point.”
“The point is that I’ve been robbed before, Tim. This isn’t the first time and I doubt it’ll be the last. Everything was fine until you came downstairs.” Jason nudges the still groaning man with the tip of his boot. “Of course, everything was better before this fucker came in.”
It’s clear when Tim just gives up trying to argue. “Do I need to call the police?”
Jason gives the guy on the floor a pointed look. “I dunno. Hey you. Do we need to call the police?” The Bowery has its own form of justice, one that Tim hasn’t learned yet. He wouldn’t call it vigilante style justice, but the people here take care of their own. “Well?” he prods.
Literally. Steel-toed boots against ribs is a pointed reminder of what pain he can inflict if the guy gives him the wrong answer.
“No,” the man groans, cradling his wrist. “I’m good.”
“Tim, keep an eye on him for me, would ya?” Jason returns to the safe, opens it, and takes out a roll of quarters. Standing, he glares down at the wannabe robber. “You should have stopped while you were ahead.”
He drops it on the guy’s face.
Ten minutes later, they’re alone and Tim is scowling at the locked door while Jason finishes cleaning up. There’s no point in staying open after what happened.
“Spit it out,” he says after the silence drags on.
“I just don’t get it,” Tim replies. “Why did you let him go?”
“Do you really think the cops are gonna care about a petty theft call from the Bowery when there are so many other things they could be taking care of?” Jason shrugs and leans against the bar. “Unless someone is dead or dying, they rarely bother.”
“And here I thought things had gotten better in this city.” Tim’s face falls at that, clearly remembering all the hard work he’d done to make that happen.
“Trust me, they have. It used to be the cops only came if you were dead. Dying is definitely a step up.”
“It shouldn’t have to be that way.”
Jason sighs and reaches out to tug Tim into a loose hug. “Hammurabi’s code is alive and well here. I doubt even a Wayne could change that.”
He recognizes the stubborn set to Tim’s jaw. Dammit.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not just a Wayne. I’m also a Drake.”
