A/N: Holy is she actually doing this Batman? Yup this is my first attempt at a Bat-family story, so please be gentle! It's kind of fluffy which translates to a bit OOC. I'm pretty newish to this fandom but it still holds a place in my fangirl heart. Ahem... without further a due...let's start!
Warning: None, BEWARE the cheese. Also the word "hell"is used like once but that's it.
"This is pointless!" Damian grumbled, face curling into a childish pout. To say he was frustrated would have been an understatement, and didn't go unnoticed by a hovering Alfred who could only sigh at the boy's request not to intervene.
Currently Wayne manor's elaborate kitchen could have been mistaken for a crime scene, flour and eggs caking the tan-colored walls instead of blood. The son of Bruce had awoken with a rather determined resolve to prepare breakfast, unrivaled by the Batman himself.
Needless to say, the endeavor was proving to be less than successful, dozens of pans filled with charcoaled dough littering the counters. It was a miracle the mansion had not yet burnt down, although smoke emanated throughout household.
Alfred cleared his throat with a sigh, using the end of a handkerchief to wipe his brow. As much as he cared for everyone in that family, it was quite evident they all had their own roles that they played well, and some not so suitably. After all, you didn't see him stripping from his butler attire into a Bat-suit. Baking just wasn't the child's forte.
"Master Damian, if you'll allow me a moment to-"
"NO." Damian ordered harshly, whirling around from a bowl he was mixing to face the older male with the well-trained glare of an assassin. A short silence lingered between the two before his expression softened ever so slightly and he managed to mutter something akin to an apology.
Nodding softly, Alfred couldn't prevent a bemused smile from crossing his lips. It was evident that this task was very important to the young boy to complete on his own. Who was he to stand in his way?
"Very well then, do take care not to hurt yourself." He warned, letting out a silent prayer for Damian's well-being before exiting the kitchen.
Damian snorted at the remark, amazed by his lack of faith. Cooking was a menial, degrading task and therefore easy. In fact if this day wasn't so important he never would have dreamed of finding himself participating in such.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, he looked back down to his bubbling batter that was turning a dreadful color of grey. Narrowing his cerulean orbs, he attempted to remove the wooden spoon from the sticky substance with little luck. Apparently he had created the equivalent of super glue.
That didn't stop the determined boy from tugging on it, face straining in difficulty. It would just so happen that at that very moment the third Robin stumbled into the door way, rubbing one of his eyes tiredly.
"What are you doing?" Tim mumbled, half wondering if he had landed himself into an absurd dream. His response was an effective thwack to the forehead from the spoon, which had propelled across the room upon being set free.
"OWW." He moaned, rubbing the sore spot as Damian stared apathetically. If there was any hint of concern in his being for his adopted brother, it certainly wasn't showing.
"What are you doing here Drake?" Damian growled, stalking across the room to retrieve his utensil. Tim wasn't surprised by the boy's behavior, it was no secret the two shared bad blood between them.
He was curious however what Damian was doing up so early, none the less baking. It wasn't like the demon spawn to ever attempt at being helpful. The last time Damian had done something nice was...scratch that, he was never nice. This was worth further exploration to the boy genius.
"I smelt ash and thought that we might have been under attack by the Penguin or Two-Face. Nope, turns out it was just your awful cooking." Tim smirked, running his fingers through his darkened locks.
It was a dangerous move throwing a jab his way, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to act civil after getting hit in the head.
"You will leave unless you have a death wish." Damian hissed, turning his back to him as he stood on his tippy-toes, attempting to reach a container of sugar resting in a cabinet.
"You're giving me an option?" Tim joked, surprised his younger brother hadn't sent a Bat-a-rang his way. Whatever was compelling Damian to embark on this mission had to be significant, considering the fact he practically ignoring his presence.
But what was it?
"Do not test me Drake." Damian warned, gritting his teeth as his fingers barely grazed the container.
Tim didn't dare scoff. He knew the child had enough of a psycho-mentality to try something, as he had on many past occasions. But he was still stuck on the situation's sheer absurdity.
It was then he decided to take up a different tactic, rattling off all the important dates in his mind that he could think of. Finally, stark realization hit him like a lightning bolt, leaving him utterly immobilized for a moment.
There was only one possible explanation, and it hardly made sense. But if this was the reason why Damian was trying so hard...
"You might as well let me help." Tim declared with a bit of hesitation, walking over to take the box of sugar down for him.
The younger boy seemed rather annoyed at the helpful gesture, snatching the object from his hand. "I don't require assistance. Least of all from you." He responded in typical cold demeanor.
Sighing heavily, Tim motioned to the obvious failed attempts littering the room. "I couldn't make anything much worse." There was a truth to his words. They mostly relied on Alfred for all things simple, cooking including.
Damian grimaced, seeming to think over for a moment if he was being mocked or not. Working together with Drake? That would be borderline apocalyptic. But even with his stubbornness, he could determine that if he did not manage to whip up something quickly, all his efforts would be proven futile.
Taking Damian's lack of response as notion for him being allowed to stay, Tim took to examining the oven. There had to be a reason everything going into the machine was turning out black.
"I guess we'll start by adjusting the temperature on here." He spoke aloud thoughtfully, pulling the handle down to take a look at its insides. He was immediately greeted with a blast of smoke, skin tarnished by an exploding substance.
Although he could barely see him through the muck on his face, Tim overheard Damian cackling obscenely over his appearance. This was going to take a while.
O/O/O/O/O/O/O/O/O/O/O/O/O
"Quiet!" Damian glowered in a tone that could have frozen all of hell over. Both he and Tim were standing in the hallway now, ducked behind a corner to avoid being seen.
Tim rolled his eyes over the request, muttering to himself. "Easy for you to say." Damian had decided to make it his task to carry their heavy concoction, due to the fact he was above such "inferior labor".
With not a soul in sight, Damian ran across the hall and slowly clicked the door to their destination open. Tim followed in suit, half-tempted to mention that there was no need for them to be acting so sneakily in their own house.
But the younger boy seemed so into it, he decided to keep his mouth shut. He was mildly amused that his prediction had been correct on why Damian was baking. It was for "that" day.
Knowing this actually ran up his own adrenaline, excited to show their hard-earned work to the gift's lucky receiver. After all, events like these only came once a year.
Making their way into the rather large bedroom, Tim noticed a bit of apprehension building up on Damian's face. He couldn't help but feel a bit sympathetic, despite their past relationship.
No matter how you looked at it, Damian was still a kid out for approval. In truth, he was pretty much the same in that regard. The two stopped in front of the bed that centered the space, exchanging quick glances to one another as if to decide who should speak first.
Sucking in a deep breath, Damian cleared his throat and announced promptly, "Grayson, it is time for you to wake up."
A slight stir came from underneath the covers, accompanied by a moan as Dick sat up. He yawned loudly, extending his arms to stretch before smiling at his brothers. "Hey there. Am I missing something?"
Damian snickered in disbelief, folding his arms as he pointed out, "It is your birthday. And I have decided much to your luck that I would present you a gift. Take it before I change my mind."
With that, Tim placed the silver tray that held a cake on to the bed's large comforter. Dick's eyes gleamed at the sight, grin immeasurable as he questioned, "Aww. You did this all for me?"
Tim nodded hesitantly, eyes lowering to the floor. He knew they hadn't exactly produced the best work on the planet (the cake was rather lop-sided, frosting clumpy in some sections and bare in other spots), but he hoped his brother would like it.
"Tt it was my idea, Drake barely assisted." Damian grumbled, climbing on to the bed. Dick laughed knowingly, ushering Tim to his other side whom willingly abided.
"Well I love it. Thanks guys." Dick beamed, placing his arms around both boy's shoulders to pull them into a hug. Damian protested briefly underneath his breath, claiming his actions to be "insufferable" as Tim silently burrowed his head into his stomach.
After a moment, Dick let go and reached for a spoon that laid upon the tray. "I guess it's time to dig in!" He laughed to his brothers who nodded obligingly. All three plunged their utensils into the gloppy cake and stomached a spoonful.
For two who never baked before, let alone ever worked together, it didn't turn out half-bad. It was nowhere near Alfred good, not that Dick would ever admit so. Maybe that's what birthday wishes were all about, and Dick had only made one the night before.
And that was for them to all spend the day with one another peacefully. Like the family that he knew they all were.
And there you have it! Sorry for the sheer awfulness. I pinkie promise if I ever make another one that it shall be better. At any rate, feel free to leave feed back. Reviews are my sweet treat X3