Title: Coupons
Prompt: Dick gets a coupon book for his bday and uses all but the last one.
A/N: For courageous_boss, for the Dick Grayson exchange! Ahaha, I had a lot of fun with this one.
Summary: Dick Grayson stared at the coupon book in his hands, carefully crafted by his siblings. There was one for a free massage, for doing his chores, even for defeating his enemies—all too much power in his hands, to be honest. Fortunately, they hadn't realized that.
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If there was one good thing about Bruce Wayne's string of adoptions, it was that events were never a quiet affair. No matter how much Jason or Damian might have wanted them to be. Dick, on the other hand, embraced the fullness of the manor. The place felt too empty and stuffy on a normal day, what with most of the family out and about.
It was only for special days, like his birthday, that everyone gathered together again. Between his friends and family, every room felt full, the manor bursting with sound and life. A far cry from the dreary dinners when it had just been the three of them, with Bruce awkwardly figuring out parenting and Alfred kindly filling in the gaps.
Walking around with a slice of cake, Dick spotted Alfred and grinned. He meandered over. "Alfred, one of these days, you're going to realize just how much you'd make running a restaurant."
Alfred chuckled. "Perhaps, Master Richard, but the last time I left, the manor collapsed." His expression was fond. "It's too much work fixing it after."
"That…" Dick couldn't even argue. Anytime Alfred left on vacation, sabbatical, whatever, nothing went right. The kitchen burned. Bruce forgot to eat or sleep. Mold and dust became new tenants. "It's all a ploy to keep you here longer."
"Then it is certainly working." His smile looked more amused than weary. "You certainly do keep me on my toes."
"Dick!" Tim poked his head out of the study. Spotting him, he gestured for him to come. "Got a sec?"
"It's only a party," Dick teased, nodding to Alfred before going. "Not like I have anything important to miss."
Tim rolled his eyes. "You could have been talking to someone." Despite his cavalier words, his cheeks reddened from embarrassment.
Dick didn't press the matter, storing it away instead for later teasing. "What's up?" he asked as he stepped into the study.
There was no such thing as a small room in the Wayne manor. Yet, crowded with Damian, Cassandra, Tim, Bruce, and Jason, the study suddenly felt cozy. Dick grinned, unable to help himself. "The whole gang's here!"
Jason clicked his teeth. "Let's get it over with."
"For once, I agree with the failure," Damian added, crossing his arms.
"Aww, don't be like that." Dick sidled up to them, planting himself in between. Before they could react, he loped an arm around their shoulders. "You both came, after all."
"I made sure of it," Bruce said simply. Dick wasn't sure what that entailed. He wasn't sure if he wanted to.
Damian squawked. "I didn't—"
"Don't you—" Jason growled, tossing off Dick's arm.
"We got you a gift!" Tim interrupted, before a fight could erupt. He held out a small, neatly wrapped box. The wrapping paper and ribbon were a soft blue, matching his Nightwing costume. "Everyone chipped in."
"Chipped in?" Dick reluctantly let go of the two to accept. Ignoring how Damian and Jason immediately escaped to the other side of the room, he carefully pulled the ribbons and unwrapped. What could it possibly be, if everyone chipped in and it was so tiny? Tickets? A gadget? A thick wad of cash?
Oddly enough, none of those. Instead there was a small book inside, roughly the size of a chequebook. Scrawled neatly on the top was Coupons.
"A coupon book?" Confused, he looked up at Tim. "You guys chipped in for a coupon book?"
"Look inside," Tim encouraged, his smile so wide it nearly split his face in half.
"Okay…" Still bemused, he quickly flipped through the pages. Defeat your enemies. Do a chore. Take the night off. Massage. The writing differed from page to page, from Damian's neat, cramped writing to Cassandra's messy flowing one. Most of them were made by Tim though, and they were of course all the normal ones.
It was better than anything he'd imagined. Feeling utterly soft, he quickly hugged Tim. "Thanks." Without missing a beat, he pounced on Damian and Jason. Despite their protests, they didn't squirm out of his grip. Finally, he rounded on Cass and Bruce, both of which hugged him back awkwardly, as though they weren't sure quite how.
"I can't believe you made this," he said, finally untangling himself.
"Well, considering everything we have, it's hard to buy gifts." Tim shrugged. "Steph had the idea, actually."
Well, that made sense. She always had the fun, interesting ideas. Dick made note to thank her later. "I can't believe you two agreed to this," he said, looking at Damian and Jason.
"A little strong arming from Cass," Tim explained.
"I did not get threa—" Damian protested, glaring at Tim. Hopefully this didn't lead to the two of them stabbing each other in the batcave later. Then again, there was a clean the batcave ticket too, maybe he could have them clean up after their mess.
"I did not have to…convince Damian," Cassandra replied stiffly. Despite how much time had passed, words were still her second most fluent language. "He was…agreeing to this."
"Really?" Jason guffawed.
"That's because no one can strong arm me," Damian growled, his lips curling into a sneer as he glared at Jason. "And that means she did strong arm you."
"Stop," Bruce warned, rubbing his forehead. "We're in the middle of a party."
"Oh, don't worry, I have that covered." Dick whistled as he flipped through the coupon book, stopping at one of them. Tearing it out, he grinned. "Now, one of you two has to compliment me…who should I pick?"
-x-
"You…want me to cook?" Cassandra's brow furrowed as she stared at the little slip of paper in her hands.
"More or less." Dick grinned as he led the way to his kitchen. His apartment was a small thing compared to the manor, but it was home, and there was something energizing about having someone over. If there was one thing he loved about the coupon book above all else, it was that it gave him an excuse to invite his far-flung family over.
She cocked her head, still looking troubled. "I am not…good at it."
"That's fine!" Dick hummed as he pulled out two aprons from his cupboard, handing one over to her. "As long as it's edible."
"You…have one too?" Cassandra awkwardly stared at the bird-print apron, then at him.
Laughing, he slowly put it on, demonstrating how to tie it all together. He should have expected that; his family was more comfortable fighting than they were in the kitchen, and it showed. "Yeah, we'll cook together. It's more fun that way, right?"
Cassandra smiled, a small thing, and nodded. "Yes."
-x-
Standing next to the old grandfather clock, Bruce crossed his arms. Honestly, he didn't need to wear a mask to intimidate; his scowl was more than enough to scare off any random two-bit goon. "This isn't what they were intended for."
Despite his words, he still hadn't opened the passage to the batcave, and Dick considered that victory. It at least meant that Bruce was willing to hear him out. Holding out the paper, he shook his head. "How? I'm using them."
Bruce's frown grew deeper. "Dick, that is supposed to be a night off for you."
"No, it just says night off." Honestly, Bruce should have known better: Dick loved arguing semantics. Finding loopholes in Bruce's rules was what he lived for. "So I'm giving you a night off."
"I—"
"Babs and the Birds of Prey agreed to cover." Dick pressed the coupon on Bruce's chest confidently. "You're not in the middle of a case. Perfect time for a night in."
"Dick…" Bruce ran a hand through his hair. Another push and he'd cave in. "Look, I appreciate it, but…"
"Master Richard, Master Bruce." Alfred stepped into the room and while Dick would never accuse him of something as underhanded as eavesdropping, the timing was suspect. "I have prepared the living room for your marathon. Master Timothy and Miss Cassandra are already there, though Master Damian has refused to join."
"Et tu, Alfred?" Bruce sighed, giving in. "Fine, but drag Damian down too, Dick. He's not allowed to worm his way out."
"The if I go down, he goes down with me gambit." Dick grinned. "I got it covered."
-x-
Tim stared at the fruity mocktail he was holding, worrying his bottom lip. "I don't think this is what Jason had in mind."
"I never go by what Jason has in mind," Dick countered, drinking his own cocktail. Sipping from his ridiculously curly straw, he leaned back in his seat. "It's always more fun that way."
"That's…true," Tim reluctantly agreed, surveying the rest of the batcave.
Honestly, there couldn't be anything better than relaxing by the computer, eating popcorn, and watching Damian and Jason handle all of the cleaning. Sure, they had automated robots and machines to handle this. This chore had been struck from the list years ago, after Bruce had upgraded the whole cave.
Yet, sometimes Dick just wanted to see things done the old-fashioned way. Like Jason washing the batcar. Or Damian scrubbing the costumes. Both of them were quietly swearing as they worked, occasionally shooting him a dirty glare. He didn't have to read their minds to know he'd have to watch his sleep for the next week; if they could murder him, they would.
"Don't forget the bat droppings," he added cheerfully.
If he was going to die young, might as well go out with a bang.
-x-
Dick sighed as he stared at the coupon book. In the span of a month, he'd managed to use almost all thirty of them, most of them in the most frivolous way possible. He didn't regret it; it had been fun. No matter what ridiculous thing he came up with, his family had done it. Begrudgingly, at times, but they'd still done it.
The whole thing had given them so many excuses to hang out, no matter what else was going on in their lives. And now it was all over. All he had left was a single Do whatever you say for a day ticket. One last one and the gift would be done.
He sighed again. This gift was far too precious to use on a passing whim. Carefully, he folded up that last coupon, tucking it in securely into his wallet. Dick would save it for the best opportunity, for the final memory that couldn't be replaced. A rainy day when he needed a pick-me-up.
More importantly, it literally would force someone to do whatever he said for a day. Power like that had to be considered before he used it.