A/N: Wow, thank you all so much for the enthusiasm! My sister and I wish to thank you from the bottom of our hearts! We giggle and squeal with each view, while reviews and favorites practically make our heads explode with either joy or pride.
Probably both, honestly.
So, as a thank you, we have decided to expand this series, under the new title: Moments at the Wayne Manor, which will be mostly Dick, Bruce, and Alfred bonding, but will also sometimes include Wally, Roy, and maybe other JL members as inspiration strikes us.
Thank you so much, once again! I hope you will continue to support us!

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story. Or the places, or even the clothes they wear! But I do own this idea! Take that, DC! ; P

Warning: This story is so light and fluffy, you might need insulin. And the Daddybats is very heavy. Enjoy!

"Dad?" five year old Bruce wandered the halls of his father's manor for a while, occasionally bumping into things and tripping. He'd already bruised his knees, while his toes were in poor shape, and hurt like the dickens! He wrapped his black blanket around his shoulders like a cloak, and continued wandering the manor, trying to locate his father.

A light from the kitchen caught his attention, and the boy followed his rumbling belly into the warm room.
"Dad?" he croaked. He threw up an arm to shield his eyes, which were used to the dark halls outside. But when Bruce entered, he heard someone drop some silverware, and a gasp. This was followed shortly by his father's warm chuckle, and someone walking over. When Bruce could look up, his father was approaching, holding his arms out for his son. Bruce smiled, and allowed his father to pick him up, and carefully sit him on a barstool.

In the room, once he was able to look around, was his father who was eating leftover lasagna from dinner, and Alfred, who had a bowl of chocolate ice cream before him. Once again, Bruce's stomach complained loudly, and Alfred simply smiled as he went through the refrigerator to warm up some food.
Thomas chuckled again, ruffling Bruce's hair. "What's wrong, Brucie?" he asked in his deep bass. "I thought you went to bed some time ago."
The boy shrugged, which caused Thomas to frown. "Had a bad dream." The Wayne child muttered, using a corner of the blanket to wipe his eyes. "I dreamed that Mommy didn't come back from her trip, and I never got to say sorry for being bad yesterday." The child looked up into his father's brown eyes with his own dark blue ones, and Thomas couldn't help wrapping his arms around the boy.

"Don't worry." He sighed, kissing the top of his sons head. "Mom will be back in just a few days, and I'll bet she's not even mad at you." Thomas slid back, resting his hands on Bruce's shoulders, and looked into his eyes. "I promise, it'll be ok. You'll see." The older man smiled, as Alfred laid a grilled cheese sandwich in front of Bruce, before returning to his ice-cream.

"Tell you what," Thomas glanced sidelong at his son, chewing thoughtfully at a bite of lasagna. "Tomorrow, we'll play a game to take your mind off the dream. What do you say, Brucie?"
The child nodded, but didn't answer because he was too busy shoveling the sandwich into his mouth. Alfred simply chuckled, while Thomas rubbed his son's head.

Bruce had allowed Dick to invite his two best friends over to the manor for the night, because he was going to be working late. And he figured the boy deserved a reward for doing so well in his training, and for his latest report card which had nothing but A's.
Though getting him to say it would be like pulling teeth, Bruce was proud of his ward. He'd risen to the circumstances with astounding success. And now he was simply months away from making his crime-fighting debut as Robin, protégé to Batman.

However, at that moment, Dick was not acting so much like the future sidekick to Batman was expected. He was sticking his tongue out at Wallace 'Wally' West, as he himself hid behind Roy Harper. Ironically, both his best friends were red-heads, and both were also in training as side-kicks to heroes in the Justice League. Wally was training with the Scarlett speedster, the Flash; while Roy was improving his archery and covert skills under Green Arrow.
Though, Wally was currently dipping his fingers into the mashed potatoes, and licking them loudly when they came away loaded with the fluffy goodness.

Dick crept around the corner to attack Wally, but the older boy had made a mad dash away to watch Alfred cook more sandwiches.
"Man, those sure look good." The boy sighed, rubbing his complaining stomach. The butler shook his head slowly. "Master Wallace," he started, but had to pause when Dick giggled. "I do hope you are exercising restraint? The rest of us need food as well, sir."

Dick laughed at the look on Wally's face, and Roy couldn't suppress a chuckle as well. Wally sighed, blowing his flaming red bangs out of his face, as he moved to sit at the table. "You guys suck!" the boy muttered.
With another laugh, Dick poked his head around Roy again. "Wally, with as much as you eat, it's a wonder you aren't fat!" Roy cracked into a huge grin, and Wally could swear he even heard Alfred chuckle.

The redhead growled, and reached into the bowl in front of him. Faster than anyone could react, he threw a glob of mashed potatoes straight at the raven haired boy, and with a splat it landed on his face.
Dick snorted, trying to push globs of potatoes out of his nose, and Roy wiped them from the younger boy's face. "Wally! What's wrong with you?" the older redhead scolded, turning to look at the unrepentant Wally.

In response, Wally grinned and loudly licked the remaining mashed potatoes from his hand, then threw another handful at the two boys across the table from him. This time they were able to dodge aside, and Dick grabbed a chicken leg. Reaching back, he threw it at the speedster, who caught it and devoured the meat in two seconds.
Two seconds that Roy used to leap across the table and tackle the boy.

The redheads wrestled for a bit, when Dick joined in, pelting Wally with sandwich fixings.

"OW! Cut it out, Dick!" Wally whined, as he shoved Roy away and sped to the other side of the table. As luck would have it, there was an open can of peanuts in front of him, and he grinned evilly at the other two.
"Walls…" Roy started in a warning tone, but the speedster ignored him, shouting "MACHINE GUN!" And began throwing peanuts at the other two as fast as he could; which was very fast. Glass shattered, containers broke, and Alfred dove to the floor covering his head. Roy threw himself and Dick to the ground, hiding behind the table; the boys then army-crawled to where Wally was cackling madly, with a crazed look upon his face as he continued throwing peanuts. The other two nodded too each other, and Roy held up three fingers.
Dick pulled his legs under him, so he could dash faster.
Two fingers;
Roy steadied himself, planting his spare hand solidly on the ground.
One finger, then a fist.
Both boys charged, war cries escaping their lips. This startled Wally, who didn't react fast enough and got tackled once again.

Dick, being smaller, crawled under Wally, and twined his legs around the speedster's waist, and his arms snaked up, catching the older boy in a Nelson headlock. Roy, who held Wally's powerful legs still, got a sudden, wicked idea, and grinned. Quick as a wink, he started tickling the bottoms of Wally's feet, causing the boy to howl in laughter, flailing.

"Roy!" he yelled between laughing fits. "Cut. It. Out!" He was smiling so much his cheeks hurt, and Dick had to loosen his hold so Wally didn't actually choke out.
Then the three were all hit, on the head, with a wooden spoon.

Alfred had regained his feet. And it only took one glance at the butler for all three boys to see where Bruce had learned the patented 'bat-glare'. Wally gulped, and Roy had to fight the same impulse. Dick simply kept Wally between himself and the butler, and tried to hide from that all too familiar glare.

"When you boys are quite finished, it appears the kitchen is in dire need of cleaning." Alfred had to suppress an evil smirk, as Master Bruce would never approve. "And you are all being banned from dinner, except for Master Wallace, who has to eat." Wally's face broke into a grin, until he caught the continued glare from the scariest butler ever.
"However, that dinner will consist of these sandwiches that have thoroughly burned, and all this food which is now ruined." This time, Alfred did smile. "Enjoy." He then left the kitchen to fetch rags, brooms, and other various cleaning implements.
The three boys glanced at each-other, and sighed in unison. Then, Dick chuckled. Roy and Wally traded another look, and also broke out laughing.

When Bruce returned home some time later, Alfred and Roy had just finished hanging tarps over the shattered windows, while Wally and Dick were carefully placing trash bags in their respective cans. And, interestingly, the kitchen smelled delicious.
"Alfred…" Bruce started hesitantly. The butler dipped into a small bow, and his usual greeting of "Master Bruce."
"Do I want to know what happened? And what is that smell?" Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back either laughter or a frown; as he wasn't sure which was needed yet.

"The boys decided to host a food fight, sir." Alfred's tone carried enough disapproval for seven people. "Master Wallace broke many containers and windows in an attempt to win. Masters Dick and Roy tackled him away from the peanut jar, at great personal risk, sir." Now the chuckle was almost audible in his voice, as the butler had to hide his smile.

Bruce found himself doing the same, especially when looking at the guilty faces of the three boys. "So…What happened to dinner, Alfred?" he asked, hoping against hope that something was left for him.
"They managed to ruin everything except for the blueberry pie, sir."

Wally, who had been trying the hardest to look innocent, turned to stare at Alfred, jaw hanging. "Al…" he whined, pushing out his bottom lip and pouting. "Can't we have any? We've cleaned up all the mess and everything!"
Dick and Roy glanced at each-other, and had to look away quickly before they started laughing. In so doing, they mirrored Alfred and Bruce's careful avoidance of eye-contact. Wally, who looked from one adult to the other, simply threw down his arms and stormed into the guest room with a loud "Fine!". Only when they heard the door slam behind the red-headed speedster, did someone let out the first chuckle. It was quickly joined by another, and another, till Roy and Dick had to lean against each other to remain upright. Alfred clutched his side, and tried to regain his composure, while Bruce simply ran a helpless hand through his short hair, chuckling quietly.
The scream of anger from Wally's room just made everyone laugh harder.

"Bruce, are you mad?" Dick asked later that night, as his adoptive father tucked him in. The man in question sat on Dick's bed, and turned a confused expression on the boy. "Should I be?" he asked.

Dick smiled, and rubbed his arm. "No, I'd rather you not be mad. But I understand if you are. We did get a little carried away with the food-fight. I'm sorry." And he meant it. He knew things like windows weren't exactly cheap, and some of the containers they had broken might have had some sentimental value to the older man.

But Bruce surprised Dick by laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, and smiling back at his ward. "I knew the risks when I allowed you to invite both Roy and Wally. Besides," the older man chuckled. "I've had a similar experience in that very same room. Though, Alfred didn't hit me with a spoon, as he was too busy throwing hard-boiled eggs at my father and me."

Dick's jaw dropped, while his eyes were as wide as saucers. "You…What?! Alfred?" the boy started and stopped several times, his jaw flapping uselessly. The thought of Alfred making a mess was foreign to the boy, but no less so than the thought of Bruce being in something as silly as a food fight; even a younger Bruce.

Bruce ruffled Dick's hair, his eyes soft. "I'll tell you the story, but it's long. You might not stay awake for it."
"Try me!" the boy grinned, relaxing back into his pillows, ready to listen.

The story took half an hour, but Dick was asleep before five minutes even passed. Before turning out the light, Bruce leaned over, and laid his forehead against Dick's. Instead of placing a kiss on the boy's forehead, he simply touched foreheads, and smiled. "Sleep well, Richard." He whispered, then got up, turned on the bat-signal nightlight, and left the room, closing the door quietly.