Disclaimer: Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne, Lucius Fox, Cissie King-Jones, Bart Allen and Tempest do not belong to me. They belong to DC Comics/Time Warner and are used without permission but also without intent to make money off them. Kevin Ormond does belong to me, unfortunately, as does Sophie, Marcia Raines and the copy girl. *** Tales from the Workplace: No Caffeine is Suck By Smitty (smittywing@yahoo.com) *** There was this horrible blaring sound in his ear. Tim Drake pulled the pillow over his head, but it only muffled the horrible noise. Tim swung a lazy arm in the general direction of the offending whine. He made contact, knocking the machine to the floor, but failed in his objective. The alarm blared on. "All right!" he shouted groggily at the clock. "I'm up, I'm up." Tim rolled up, kicking the covers off as he went. He squinted carefully at the shrieking box on the floor and reached down, stabbing the snooze button with his index finger. Silence reigned. Satisfied, Tim returned the alarm to his bedside table and stumbled out of his room in time to see Cassandra Cain sweep past him into the bathroom. With a regretful nod, he stumbled back to bed where he waited for the timed snooze to expire. Another bout of horrific noise and this time Tim actually made it into the bathroom. It was hot and steamy and smelled like flowers. He turned the water on hot and hoped he wouldn't come out smelling girly. Twenty minutes later he was decked out in Wayne Enterprises attire--full suit and tie with shined shoes and his wire rimmed glasses. He ran some gel through his hair and headed to the kitchen for his morning cup of coffee. Cassandra was already at their kitchen table, reading the comics and eating Cream of Wheat. Tim wrinkled his nose at her choice of breakfast and headed for his shelf on the cupboard. He pulled out his can of coffee and peeled off the plastic lid. None of that froufy-flavored, ten- dollars-a-pound, doused-in-cream stuff for him. No way. Tim Drake drank his coffee black and store-brand. But wait. What was this? Tim stared into the can disbelievingly. It couldn't be true. Nothing remained but a rim of grounds around the bottom edge! He was quite sure he'd had enough for a cup or two when he'd made it yesterday. Today was Thursday--it was grocery day. Coffee was on his list. But surely he'd had enough. He always planned in advance. He always measured precisely--wait a minute. Bits of coffee still lingered in the can. That was not his work. He washed out his cans. He cut a glance over to Cassandra and her Cream of Wheat. That! There in the cup! What was that? "Hey, Cass?" he asked casually, closing the tin and setting it on the counter. "Mmm?" Cassandra didn't look up from her funnies. "What's in the cup?" "Huh?" "Your cup," Tim clarified, pointing to the piece of crockery. "Whatcha got in there?" "Espresso!" Cassandra replied cheerfully. She grabbed the cup and chugged a shot. "Bean me!" she cried, quoting a Garfield comic she'd read weeks ago. "You…you used my coffee?" Tim whispered, stricken. "Triple shot!" Tim whimpered. "I drive!" Cassandra insisted, blocking the driver's side door. "No." "Can't learn if can't drive," Cassandra reasoned. "Maybe not, but you aren't driving if I haven't had my caffeine," Tim reasoned. He picked her up by her elbows and set her aside. "Keys?" he requested, holding out his palm. Pouting, Cassandra dropped the keys into his hand and flounced around to the passengers side of the minivan. Tim sighed and hauled open his door, feeling completely unprepared to face Gotham's morning traffic. He turned the key and pulled on his seatbelt. Cassandra put her feet up on the dashboard and crossed her arms. She was wearing a skirt. The little pleated plaid one with the black tights. Tim closed his eyes. He hated it when she did that. It made it very hard to keep his eyes on the road. "Feet off the dash," he said weakly. He was met with silence. "I'll buy you a doughnut," he promised. The feet were down and Tim and Cassandra were on their way to work. "Wait here," Tim instructed, twisting the minivan into a magnificent parallel park in front of Cassandra's favorite doughnut shop. "Glazed, right?" "Want to come too!" Tim waffled for a moment and gave in. "Ok, but hurry up. We're already running late." Cassandra hopped out of the car and led Tim into the small shop. "Sophie!" she called, beaming and waving wildly at the petite woman at the counter. "Cassandra!" The woman waved back. "So glad to see you here! What can I get you?" Cassandra leaned on the counter and debated the merits of various doughnuts with Sophie as Tim waited patiently. After all, she WAS wearing the pleated skirt with the black tights. But after a while, patiently wasn't going to cut it. "Cass," he prodded softly, "we're going to be late if we don't get out of here." Cass sighed and narrowed her eyes at the doughnut array. "Glazed, please," she requested. Tim rolled his eyes as Sophie snagged a piece of wax paper to extract a glazed doughnut for Cassandra. "And I'll have a regular coffee, black," he said, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. "The machine that does regular isn't working," Sophie informed him. "We have French Vanilla, Hazelnut, cappuccino and espresso." Tim cringed. "I drive!" "No." Tim installed himself in the driver's seat and slammed his door. In a rare display of recklessness, he started the engine before Cassandra got her door all the way closed. "You know where the coffee pot is at work, right?" "Yup!" "So if I asked nicely, you could get me a cup when we get there?" "Yup!" "Ok, thanks." That would have to do, Tim decided. He waited for Cassandra to finish buckling her seatbelt and then turned on his left turn signal and peered over his left shoulder. He waited until the light behind him turned red and cars started lining up behind it before he carefully twisted the minivan out of the curbside parking space. Tim and Cassandra were on their way to work. Again. Tim peeled into his parking space in the Wayne Enterprises garage with only slightly less caution than usual. He had his hand all the way on the door handle as he turned off the engine and vaulted out of the minivan with the ease and grace of, well, of a superhero. He glanced at his watch. It was six of nine. With luck and little hall traffic, he could swing by the coffee pot on his way to his nine am meeting with Bruce and Lucius. He was halfway to the elevators before he realized he was alone. "Cass!" Tim raced back to the car and wrenched the passenger- side door open. Cassandra reclined on the seat, feet still on the dash, licking doughnut glaze from her fingers. "Come ON," Tim insisted, dragging her bodily from the vehicle. He made certain to lock the door before pushing it closed with his hip and hustling Cassandra toward the elevators. "We're going to be late," he informed her, checking his watch again. Five minutes and thirty seconds to nine. "Silly Tim," Cassandra opined, lifting his wrist to peer at her own timepiece. "Lots of time." Tim pushed her ahead of him into the waiting elevator and punched the button for the 17th floor. It stopped in the lobby. Three people got on. It stopped at the mezzanine cafeteria. Two of the three people got off and four more got on. One was carrying coffee. Tim considered bolting for the cafeteria, but paying would take time. Besides, there was absolutely free coffee on every floor. Just because it was made by the interns didn't mean it wasn't perfectly acceptable. The elevator stopped at the fifth floor to let one of the people off. Tim nearly jumped out of his skin. The elevator stopped at the sixth floor to let on an intern with an armful of reports. "Could you please press the button for the 12th floor?" she requested. "I have to go to the copy room." Tim smiled tightly and stabbed at the button for the 12th floor. "Let's go!" As the doors eased open on the 32nd floor, Tim Drake shouldered through them like a professional football player, dragging Cassandra Cain behind him. He jogged down the hallway, briefcase in one hand, Cassandra's wrist in the other. "Stay here," he ordered, tossing her toward her desk. "I'm going after the coffee!" Cassandra stumbled to a halt and easily caught the heavy briefcase Tim threw in her direction. She shook her head as she watched him skid through the cubicles, ducking co-workers and potted plants. "Silly Tim," she sighed. "Still one minute left." The coffee pot was in the little alcove that separated Finance and Public Relations. There was a little rolling cart with a coffee maker, an array of Styrofoam cups and personal coffee mugs, a small bowl of sugar and sugar substitute packets, and a jar of Creamlessa. Tim skidded around the corner, dove into the alcove and leapt for the coffee pot. It was mere feet away now. One fell swoop and caffeine, beautiful caffeine, would be surging through his veins. His eyes brightened at the thought and the blood pounded in his ears. Seconds, mere seconds away! "Mornin' Timbo," Kevin Ormond greeted him, emptying the last drips of coffee from the pot into an oversized mug with the words 'It's Not Easy To Be This Good-Looking, But Someone's Gotta Do It' emblazoned on it. "I've got some more perking. Give it five minutes and you can have the first cup. At least yours will be hot." Kevin grinned and dumped a healthy load of Creamlessa into his cup. "Hey, Marcia Raines made pie. Make sure you get some. It's as luscious as Marcia." With a wink, Kevin and his mug were gone. Tim gazed sadly after them. He glanced at his watch. Thirty seconds until he was officially Late For His Meeting. "Can't talk," Tim shouted as he ran past Cassandra, scooping from her desk the files he needed for the meeting. "Got meeting." "But…" Cassandra watched his retreating form once more that day. She held a little paper plate of Harvest Apple in each hand. "Pie," she finished forlornly. "Bruce!" Tim ran up to Wayne Enterprises' CEO, too distressed to even be impressed that the other man was at an early-morning meeting on time. "Hey, Tim," Bruce Wayne, boy billionaire, greeted the younger man easily. "What's up? You look all stressed out and stuff." Tim blew air out through his teeth, having no caffeine barrier between Bruce's Flake Imitation and his own distressed condition. "Bruce," he said, his voice pitched low. "I need a favor." Bruce's face remained oblivious but his voice sharpened. "What is it?" "I need a sip of your coffee." Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if you want to do that, Tim." "Look, I know you're just carrying it around for show. Just give me a taste. You need to make it look like you're drinking it, anyway." "Well, ok," Bruce conceded, letting Tim pull his mug away from his hand. "But I should warn you…" Tim took a deep, comforting mouthful of the brew… And spewed it across the hallway. "…that I've been carrying that cup around for a couple of days," Bruce finished. Tim coughed miserably. "Let's go," Bruce said in a tone that approached sympathetic as he clapped a hand on Tim's shoulder and steered him towards the executive conference room. "Hey," he continued, his voice rising an octave, "I gotta tell you 'bout this girl I met at my yoga class…" Four floors down, Cassandra Cain shifted nervously in her seat. Tim's Harvest Apple pie was sitting in his office, on his desk. She had already finished her piece. It had been really good. Much better than the one she and Cissie had tried to make in the Titans' kitchen. Tim's piece looked really good, too. Really good. But it was Tim's piece. And it was sitting on his desk. In his office. Through the door behind her. Cassandra clutched the edges of her desk nervously. When was Tim coming back? Tim was sluggish. He was slow. His insane mental number- crunching ability was impaired. He was sure of it. "Tim?" "I'm sorry Mr. Fox," he burst out. "I haven't had my coffee this morning." Lucius Fox nodded slowly. "I understand," he assured his high- strung protégé. He turned to Bruce. "What do you think, Bruce?" he asked. "Knights beat the Whalers tonight or the other way around?" "Knights have a great pitcher and Benetti's warming the Whalers' bench with a bruised knee," Bruce replied, stirring his coffee with a pencil and examining the instrument as he pulled it, dripping, from the cup. "Thought you liked baseball, Tim?" Tim slouched in his seat and resolved to give Cass a stern lecture on the importance of asking permission before emptying a can of coffee. Cassandra Cain sat at her desk with her hands over her face. What had she done? Well, it was obvious what she'd done. The little paper plate in Tim's office held only crumbs and it was all her fault. A bit of crust off the corner had turned into just a little swipe of Harvest Apples--which tasted oddly like regular apples--and before she knew it, the little paper plate held only the aforementioned crumbs. She was doomed. Tim would kill her. Well, he might kill her anyway, because she'd drunk all his coffee this morning. There had to be a way out of this. Cassandra's salvation came with the morning mail run. Tim had received a few training ads, some credit card offers and half a dozen letters, less than half of which made it through Cassandra's datestamp before she came across The Catalogue. It was a catalogue of office supplies and one of Cassandra's favorite things to find in the mail. The rest of the envelopes and pamphlets forgotten, she kicked her feet up on her desk and opened the magazine to find exactly what she needed, staring her in the face. SUPER DELUXE TRAVEL COFFEE WARMER EXTRAORDINAIRE! the page pronounced. Cassandra's mouth dropped open. This was it! This was exactly what Tim needed! She had even caught him fawning over one in a store last week. He hadn't bought it, of course. Instead, he'd typed it carefully on his wish list, a document on his computer that was updated regularly and printed out near Christmas and his birthday and distributed to a number of friends and relatives. Cassandra was going to buy him one. Today. But how? She couldn't leave work. Tim's phone might ring and no one would be there to hang up on the caller. The phone! Of course! Cassandra picked up the receiver and punched in a familiar number, one she had memorized long ago. "Titans Tower. Tempest speaking." Tempest sounded like he was in need of a Super Deluxe Travel Coffee Warmer Extraordinaire himself. "Is Batgirl. Need Arrowette. Please," she added as an afterthought, because Tim said she should be polite. "One moment." There was some clicking on Tempest's end of the line before Cecilia King-Jones' voice came across the line. "Batgirl?" "Cissie! Need help." "Sure, what's up?" "Drank all Tim's coffee this morning." "Uh-oh." "Yes. Need to buy him Super Deluxe Coffee Warmer Extraordinaire." "Um, ok. How do I fit in?" "Need to buy it before end of meeting and can't leave." "Oh. When does the meeting end?" Cassandra glanced at the clock. "Soon." "Ok, I don't know if--wait. I have a plan. Hold on." Cissie went away for a minute and came back on the line. "Ok. Impulse will be in the lobby in five minutes. He's getting it for you." "Thanks!" "Any time!" The girls hung up just in time for Cassandra to be buzzed by the front desk. She felt very important telling the receptionist to allow Bart Allen to come to the 32nd floor. "Hi Cass! So this is where you and Tim work? This is spiffy! Do you like it here? What do you do?" Cass held out her hand. "Need Super Deluxe Coffee Warmer Extraordinaire." "Oh, right. Here ya go." Impulse held out a bag from a popular department store. "It was about twenty dollars." It so happened that Tim made Cassandra keep a twenty dollar bill in her purse in case of emergencies, so paying Impulse back was no problem. "Thanks! I'd better get going! I was in the middle of class. Bye!" Bart Allen made it to the stairwell at a normal speed but the receptionist never saw him leave. Cass congratulated herself on her own quick thinking and went to the coffee pot to break in the Super Deluxe Coffee Warmer Extraordinaire. Tim slogged into the elevator and sleepily pushed the button for the 32nd floor. The meeting had been a bust. He'd barely been able to keep his eyes open and had even had to check his notes to verify the revenue figures Bruce and Lucius had requested. Tim was beat. And it was only 10:30. The elevator chimed, signaling his floor. The doors slid open and Tim stumbled off, heading in the general direction of his desk. Cass was sitting at her desk in the outer office, beaming at something. He ignored her, heading straight through his door in anticipation of falling into his chair and not getting out until at least lunch. But wait. What was this? Tim stared at his desk disbelievingly. It couldn't be true. Sitting on his desk, perched on a small paper plate, sat a Super Deluxe Travel Coffee Warmer Extraordinaire! Tim moved forward on automatic, hardly daring to breathe, hardly daring to hope-- He lifted the metal cylinder carefully, hope rising in him as he felt contents sloshing within. He sniffed the opening carefully, the warm, thick scent of black, store-brand coffee meeting his nostrils. He glanced up to see Cassandra standing in the doorway, the same goofy grin on her face. She was still wearing the little pleated plaid skirt and the black tights and suddenly Tim was wearing the exact same goofy grin on his own face. "Good?" she asked as Tim took his initial sip. "Wonderful," he assured her, grinning widely as he sat down in his chair. "Good!" she exclaimed and turned on her heel, flouncing back to her desk. Tim smiled as he watched her go and leaned back in his chair to enjoy his new travel mug full of coffee. He was so enraptured by his new gift that he didn't even notice the faint sprinkling of crumbs on the paper plate. The End