Dick tried to warn him. Hell, even Alfred told him it was impossible. However, Tim stubbornly refused to listen. How hard could it possibly be to make Rice Krispies treats? He was in a nostalgic mood and wanted some homemade ones to snack on. He thought that their warnings came from the misguided assumption that, like most of the members of the Bat-family, he had practically non-existent cooking skills.
Oh how wrong he was.
It wasn't that he couldn't make it. The recipe was simple, and he was fairly competent in the kitchen.
What Tim would end up learning the hard way is that the Fates simply would not allow it.
Period.
No... Exclamation point.
His first attempt at making the classic comfort snack was at the penthouse in Wayne Tower. It was there he made his first mistake.
Tim tried cooking with his family at home.
"Let's see," he mumbled as he read over the recipe on his digital tablet. "Butter... Marshmallows... Cereal..." Tim shrugged. He walked to the pantry, pulled out the cereal and the marshmallows, set both on the island in the middle of the kitchen before turning his attention to the fridge in search of the butter.
Dick was waiting for that precise moment. He'd been stalking Tim for most of the morning. The eldest of Wayne's sons knew his younger brother had his heart set on making those treats, which meant one thing.
Marshmallows were in the kitchen.
Alfred rarely kept the things in the home when Dick was around because, simply put, he was a marshmallow addict.
Could Dick have just raided the pantry before Tim got into the kitchen?
Of course.
Did he want to?
Hell no.
Why?
Because it was a proven fact that ninjaed marshmallows tasted so much sweeter than normal ones.
It took about thirty seconds for Tim to locate the butter in the fridge.
It took less than twenty for Dick to spirit away the bag of marshmallows without a sound.
It took half an hour of fruitless searching before Tim resigned himself to going to the grocery store to buy another bag of marshmallows.
Five minutes after he left, Alfred, Bruce, and Damian came up from the bunker. The elder Wayne had been sparring with his son for the better part of two hours.
"I'm really proud of you, Damian," Bruce told his youngest son as he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. The normally stoic child was trying very hard to keep his composure, but even Alfred could see a shadow of a smile threaten to crack his facade. "The time spent working with Dick is showing in your technique."
"Thank you, father," Damian said with a respectful tilt of his head. Unfortunately, his formal, too mature for his age expression of gratitude was ruined by the overly loud rumble of his stomach. The boy's face flushed crimson almost immediately, and Bruce couldn't help but chuckle warmly as, reflexively, he reached out to ruffle his son's hair. The affectionate gesture startled Damian out of his embarrassment, and for a moment it appeared that they were a proper, normal father and son.
After putting the butter that had been on the left on the counter away, Alfred set two bowls, a jug of milk, and some fresh fruit on the island in front of Bruce and Damian, along with a pair of spoons.
When Tim returned from the grocery store, about thirty minutes later, he didn't think anything of the dirty dishes in the sink. At least, he didn't think anything of them until he started looking for the missing Rice Krispies cereal box he'd left on the island.
"What the hell-" Tim muttered a few minutes later as he located the now empty box, half buried by fresh banana peels and strawberry greens, and a crushed plastic milk jug in the trash can.
"Ah, Master Timothy, there you are. I was wondering where you'd wandered off to," Alfred said as he reentered the kitchen.
"Hi Alfred," Tim replied, still glaring at the contents of the trash can. "Just got back from the store. Who ate all the cereal?"
"Master Bruce and Damian did a little bit ago," the old man said as his eyes zeroed in on the marshmallows the young man had just brought home. He smiled. "Perfect!"
Tim finally looked up at Alfred, a touch confused. "What is?"
"This-" Alfred took Tim's bag of marshmallows for himself. "-will save me a trip to the store. I'm planning on making candied sweet potatoes with dinner tonight."
The young man's jaw nearly dropped. "B-But I was-"
"Oh, did you need these for something?"
Tim looked at the cereal box in the trash, contemplated another trip to the store, then sighed. "Ah... No. Not really." He relinquished all ownership of the marshmallows to the grateful butler. He may have lost the first battle in the creation of the Rice Krispies treats, but Tim swore silently to himself that he had not lost the war.
There was always tomorrow.
Author Notes: Needed a little break from writing Confidence Lost. That story is going well and strong, but it hit a really dark, dramatic, angsty point. I needed a bit of a break from that, so decided to write a little silly fluff story. There may be a sequel later consisting of Tim's attempt to make these treats at Titans Tower.