Content warning for disordered eating.
When Dick first came to Wayne Manor, back when he was a small, newly-orphaned nine year old, he hardly ate. Alfred had thought at the time that it might be a trauma reaction to his parents' deaths, or perhaps because of Dick's time at the Gotham Youth Center. As Dick had grown older, Alfred had discovered that a lack of appetite was simply how Dick reacted when he was upset. When he stopped eating, Alfred knew something was wrong.
Something was certainly wrong, and Dick wasn't eating, but this time, Alfred couldn't help but think there was more to the story.
He shot a glance over at Dick, who was sitting at the kitchen table and tapping at his phone. Ever since Damian had informed the family about the "tests" Dick had been doing when alone in the Cave, everyone had done their best to keep him from being alone in the Cave. While they hadn't told Dick explicitly what they were doing, Alfred was certain he'd figured it out. Dick didn't protest, however; he gamely went along with whatever people wanted to do. And so, when Alfred had asked for company in the kitchen, Dick hadn't made a single comment about how Alfred was usually more likely to drive people out of his kitchen before coming in and sitting at the table. He'd been on his phone most of the time, but Alfred was sure he'd put it down to talk if Alfred started a conversation.
It used to be that Dick would start conversations himself. It was difficult to get him not to, in fact. That was another concern, but not the one Alfred intended on tackling at the moment.
No, Alfred intended on tackling whatever it was that was impacting Dick's appetite to the extent that he wasn't begging for a single freshly-baked cookie, when normally he'd have attempted to make off with an entire batch by now.
"Are you texting someone, Master Dick?"
Dick's head snapped up, and he set his phone aside. "Sorry, I haven't been very good company, have I?"
"On the contrary, it has been very pleasant to simply share this space with you. Do you recall how we used to do much the same when you came home from school, back when you were Master Damian's age?"
There seemed to be little rhyme or reason to what Dick did and didn't remember. He remembered most things, thankfully, but they'd found some gaps in his memory. It was to be expected, Alfred supposed, but he still hoped they could shore the gaps up.
"I do," Dick said warmly. "I'd ask you for help if I had questions about my homework. You helped me with English a lot."
"Indeed I did," Alfred agreed. "And sometimes, I had to scold you to get off your phone, but today, I believe there to be no harm in it. Are you texting someone?"
Dick looked down at his phone. "Donna. She's coming to visit again this weekend."
"I shall prepare a room for her, then."
Upon hearing that their friend and teammate was less dead than originally thought, and upon learning that Bruce was loath to let Dick out of his sight, much less out of Gotham entirely, the Titans had descended on the Manor in a state of joyful chaos. In truth, at least half of the superhero community had gotten in contact to say how happy they were that Dick was alive and well, and a good portion of them had come to visit. Dick, Alfred had noticed, did better with some crowds than with others. The Titans, particularly the original ones that Dick had formed the team with, seemed to be some of the ones he did well with.
"I think she was just planning on staying for a day, but I'll let her know that she can stay overnight if she wants," Dick said. He reached for his phone, then hesitated. "Or we can talk, if you'd like. You did ask for company."
"My dear boy, I don't mind in the slightest if you text with Miss Troy. Merely having you here is enough company for me."
Dick picked up his phone, although he still looked a bit dubious about it. Before Alfred could reassure him again, Steph and Cass barreled into the kitchen like a pair of bulls let loose in a china shop.
"Hey, Dick! Hey, Alfie! Don't suppose you'd share those cookies, would you?"
Next to Steph, Cass did her best to look innocent and pathetic and deserving of cookies. Steph batted her eyes and tucked her hands under her chin.
"Pretty please?"
"Very well," Alfred relented, as both girls must have known he would. "One cookie each."
Steph cheered. "I'm gonna find the biggest one!"
Alfred had done his best to make all the cookies equally sized, knowing the chaos that could come of one person realizing someone else's cookie was larger, but he knew that knowledge wouldn't stop Steph, so he didn't bother with it. Instead, he looked over at Dick, who was watching Steph and Cass with a look in his eyes that Alfred couldn't quite parse. He didn't need to parse it to know he didn't like it.
"Master Dick? Would you like a cookie as well?"
Steph bounced into the seat next to Dick, holding her cookie delicately in her hands. "Do you remember what Alfie's cookies taste like? You should definitely eat one."
Cass nodded her agreement, half of her cookie already in her mouth.
Dick hesitated. "Well, I don't really need one-"
"If we're having cookies, you're having a cookie," Steph declared. She grabbed one off the cooling rack and shoved it at Dick. "Eat."
Dick looked down at the cookie, then tentatively nibbled a bite. He was watching Alfred as he did so, but not quite making eye contact. Alfred didn't like it. He was fairly certain the girls had noticed it too; Cass normally noticed those things, and Steph was watching Dick with a bit too much of an eagle eye to be casual.
"Good, right?" she asked, taking a bite of her own cookie. "Alfie's cookies are amazing. They've won awards, right, Alfie?"
"Indeed," Alfred agreed. "And they're something I can almost consistently get Master Bruce to eat, no matter his mood, which is an even bigger achievement."
Dick hesitated before taking another bite. "Are there enough for everyone?"
"Uh, Dick, look at the amount of cookies on the rack," Steph said. "And the amount of cookies in the oven. And the amount of cookie dough in the bowl. There's definitely enough." She looked over at Alfred. "In fact, I think there's enough that we should all be able to eat two."
"Not at the moment," Alfred replied placidly. "And you may stop attempting to guilt me whenever you wish, Miss Cassandra."
Cass blinked, stopping with her big, sad eyes and just looking at Alfred normally. She shrugged. "Worth a try."
"These cookies are worth so much trying," Steph agreed. "Eat up, Dick."
Dick took another bite of his cookie. "These are pretty good."
"See? They're absolutely incredible."
"Not what he said."
"It's what he meant, Cass, come on."
"I'm glad you're enjoying them," Alfred said. "Do you remember them, Master Dick?"
"Sort of," Dick said slowly. "But I think the memory is mixed up with something else, because I also remember having fresh cookies with my mother."
Steph and Cass both stilled. Alfred hesitated before turning back to his cookie dough. Even before everything with Renegade, Dick's memories of his childhood had been sacred. He'd shared stories of performing easily and widely, and he'd done it enough that it was easy to miss the fact that he rarely told stories of just living with his parents. If Alfred's cookies had reminded Dick of his mother before, he'd never said so.
"You would always beg for a cookie whenever I made them," Alfred said, making sure his voice remained steady. "Occasionally, you would try to steal them. You never managed to do it unnoticed, but you did manage to eat the cookie before I could reclaim it a few times."
"One time, when I was little, I stole three cookies and climbed up into the chandelier to eat them," Dick said slowly. "You were telling me to get down, but I wouldn't."
"And to think we all thought you were the perfect child," Steph sighed, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "Stealing from Alfred. For shame, Dick, for shame."
Alfred remembered that story as well; he'd demanded that Dick get down, worried he would hurt himself, and he'd told him to give the cookies back, but secretly, he'd been relieved to see the boy eating at all. That was back when Dick was nine, when he would mostly pick at his food, and even though three cookies wasn't the healthiest of meals, at least it was something. Even if Dick insisted on eating them in the chandelier, which creaked ominously under his weight. Alfred had had all of the chandeliers reinforced during Dick's first year at the Manor, when he'd accepted that there was no way to keep him from climbing up into them.
Too late, Alfred realized Dick had gone quiet after Steph's teasing, and he was holding the cookie without making any moves to bring it up to his mouth to eat. "I- Did I-" He frowned, closing his eyes and bringing one hand up to his head. "It was Deathstroke who had rules about eating, right? Not you?"
Steph looked at Alfred with panic in her eyes. Cass looked grim. Alfred took a fortifying breath.
"What sort of rules, my boy?"
"Not allowed to eat without permission. Not allowed to eat too much. We don't need to eat like non-metas, so it doesn't make sense to use too much of our funds on food. If we have limited space to pack supplies, we leave the food behind. We-" Dick stopped, shook himself, opened his eyes. "That was Deathstroke, not you."
"It was indeed," Alfred said, keeping his voice steady and gentle. "I would never set rules like that around food. You're always free to eat anything in this kitchen unless it's specifically labeled as belonging to someone else, and you can eat whenever you wish. You do not need permission."
"It's okay," Dick said quickly, looking from Alfred to Steph and Cass and apparently realizing that what he'd said had been more upsetting than he'd realized. "It wasn't that bad, really. The serum means I don't need to eat as much as a normal human. I'm not even sure I need to eat at all. And I was never that hungry. I was okay."
Dick always lost his appetite when he was upset. Apparently, he'd lost it for the six months he'd been with Deathstroke.
"I mean, sometimes food is nice to eat just because, even if you're not hungry," Steph said. "Like these cookies. We don't need them, but they're tasty, so it's nice to eat them anyway."
Dick looked down at his cookie. "Isn't that wasteful, though?"
"Not at all," Alfred replied. "You're enjoying it, aren't you?"
"I- But I don't need it, though. Food, I mean. I definitely don't need as much as a regular human, and I'm not sure I even really need any at all."
"I just said that doesn't matter," Steph said.
"She is correct," Alfred agreed.
"Stop," Cass said suddenly, apparently catching something in Dick's body language that Alfred and Steph had missed. She stared at Dick intently until his gaze flickered to her. "No one will be hurt. No one will hurt you. The rules here are not like that."
Dick swallowed, his gaze flickering to Alfred. He looked nervous, and Alfred hated to see it, but he had to believe they could fix this. It hadn't even been two weeks since they'd gotten Dick back. He would need time. He would need support. But Alfred had to believe he'd be alright in the end.
"Miss Cassandra is correct," Alfred said gently. "No one will hurt you. Neither Master Bruce nor I believe in corporal punishment."
"But..."
Alfred wanted to cut him off, to insist that there were no buts. The look on Cass's face stopped him. He didn't agree with what Dick was saying, but Dick needed to say it, and they needed to be gentle about refuting it.
"But if I take something I don't need, then- Isn't that wrong?"
"Can you still feel hunger?"
Dick shifted slightly, then nodded.
"Then you should eat," Alfred simply. "Even if you do not strictly need to, I would rather you be well-fed unnecessarily than hungry."
"And... there aren't rules about it?"
Alfred did actually have a fair amount of rules about his kitchen. None that forbid people from eating, of course, but some that restricted certain foods. His cookies, for example; he knew full well that chaos that they could unleash if unmonitored.
But Dick looked so tentative. It wasn't the time to explain the rules. That wasn't what he needed.
"No, my dear boy. There are no rules, and certainly no punishments."
Steph nudged him gently with her shoulder. "See? Eat your cookie."
Dick looked down at the cookie in his hand, then he slowly lifted it to his mouth and took a bite.
"What do you think?" Alfred asked. "Is it enjoyable?"
Dick nodded.
Alfred took a chance and put a hand on Dick's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Dick didn't flinch away, so he counted it as a victory.
"Then I am glad you're eating it. And whenever you're hungry, I hope you'll come back here to eat more."
From the look on his face, Alfred wasn't sure Dick was quite ready to do that. Perhaps this would help with meals and others offering him food, though. At least that was a good first step. When Dick was ready to take another one, Alfred would be there with him.
"Thanks, Alfie," Dick said quietly.
Alfred leaned down and kissed the top of Dick's head. He normally tried to control his urges towards obvious displays of affection, but he thought Dick would like this one.
"Of course, Master Dick. Any time."