Chapter Text
To make a pizza delivery in Bludhaven you might come across anything.
From the very beginning, it was an unwise decision to open a branch of Gotham Pizza in Bludhaven. Jason had to admit that Giovanni's Gotham Pizza do taste good - Giovanni claimed he sold the most authentic Gotham style pizza, avoiding the fact that he actually moved from Sicily ten years ago. But Jason would never dare to argue with those Italian guys.
With five shops open in Gotham, Giovanni was planning ambitiously to extend the pizza business across the entire east coast. Somehow, he saw opportunities in Gotham's dilapidated sibling, Bludhaven. In order to encourage the current staff, Giovanni promised two months of extra salary to anyone who would be willing to work in Bludhaven, as well as free sleepover in the back room of the store. Although believing the new shop would survive no longer than three months, Jason happily agreed to transfer to Bludhaven.
Pizza delivery is a high-risk business. Giovanni had bet with his honor that customers could refuse any payment if the pizza was not delivered within 30 minutes. Fortunately, Jason had got a decent motorbike, and he drove at deadly speed whether towards drunk pedestrians, mad taxi drivers or red lights. His attitude quickly made himself Giovanni’s favorite delivery guy – after all, who cared about his manners if the pizza was delivered on time?
There was also another challenge about this job: Gotham pizza opened 24 hours. If you were on the night shift, you must always be ready to knock on someone's door at midnight, regardless of what would be happening inside: couple fighting each other, some angry old lady holding a shotgun, strong guy with tattoos on face, LSD party, mysterious cult, SM performance, etc.
Or you would be looking at a raven haired young man, covered in black tights that fit perfectly on his body, a lightening blue symbol laying across his chest. More precisely speaking, he looked exactly like the legendary vigilante of Bludhaven -Nightwing. Except without a mask.
The man did not seem to expect Jason to bump in. He stared at Jason and the pizza box he was holding, his own hand freezing on the moment of pulling the zipper behind his back. It was quite dark in the room. Behind the man through a half opened narrow window, hazy moonlight met vivid neon lights, creating a halo around his body. A tough guy as he claimed to be, Jason was stunned at the scene for a second.
His first thought was "Nice curves".
His second thought was "Do not ask any question" - it was the Course 101 of pizza delivery, and Jason was a damn good delivery guy. He was also highly equipped with a helmet, painted in bright red with a sign that said "Gotham Pizza". He quietly held the pizza box.
The man finally reacted, blue eyes staring wide. "How did you get in ?!"
"Your door's not locked," Jason said, deciding to make it quick. "Hello here’s your pizza the total is twenty-four dollars fifty cents thank you."
The man opened his mouth. "What? I did not order... ..."
"2:05, Grayson, 1013 Parkthorne Ave, 20-inch pizza with regular cheese topping, no anchovies." Jason glanced at the door he had pushed open, a small door plate waggling on the top that wrote "1013" and "R. Grayson". "It's only 2:30 now. No overtime, so you have to pay. Do you understand?" He kindly added.
The man closed his mouth and placed a palm on his forehead. "Uh ... well, I probably know what's going on ... Wait for a second, will you." He picked up the phone on the wall. "Hey? Brigitte, it’s me. Why is it so noisy over there? What are you doing downstairs? - No, I'm not calling about this - the next time you come into my room, can you at least lock the door afterwards? And can you please not use my name for take outs again? - At least use your own room number! No, I will not bring it downstairs! Come up and take you own damn pizza! "He shouted and hung up the phone.
The man - Grayson turned to Jason with a reluctant smile. He was very handsome, though that he acted like an understudy who had just been pushed into the middle of a stage. "She is my landlord. Always walks into my room without asking, and often forgets to lock the door behind... ... the rest is just like you have heard.”
“Yeah yeah, I heard it was quite noisy downstairs." Jason began to shift on his feet. "Are you giving me the money or what?"
"Ah, yes," said Grayson, squatting down to the clutter on the floor. He had also got a nice ass, Jason added to himself. "How much is it again... ..." Grayson finally took out his wallet. He slowly counted out several crumpled bills. "Uh, besides, about what you’ve seen ..." He gestured embarrassedly at himself.
"I get it man," Jason interrupted, "some people love this kinky stuff."
Grayson choked. "Wait. What did you say?"
"The costume’s not bad. Looks almost real." Jason glanced at his shocked face, continuing casually, "But your Nightwing is not the weirdest roleplay I’ve seen. I once saw a girl dressed up like Catwoman whipping an old man’s ass.”
"Oh," Grayson mumbled. "I have never tried anything like that."
"Don’t be so nervous, man, if you don’t want people to know your secret hobby, my tongue can be very quiet," Jason said lazily, handing the pizza box to him, "as long as I'm satisfied with my tip."
The man stared at him flatly. Then he handed thirty dollars to Jason and took over the pizza box. "Um, thank you? You can keep the changes... ..."
Jason’s hand was still stretching out there.
Grayson sighed, and pulled out another twenty bucks. This time Jason took the money back with satisfaction.
"Relax, man," he whistled as he walked towards the stairs. "Your secret is safe here.”