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Tim was sprawled across the massive sofa in the living room, watching TV when Jason entered the manor. The glare of the screen shone harshly against the teenager's face in the dimly lit environment, and Jason couldn't tell if Tim was watching with half-lidded eyes or if he was asleep. If he had heard Jason walk in, he didn't acknowledge it.
Before Jason bothered to speak up, he looked around the room. Something was off. The air smelled too sterile and some things seemed to have been rearranged for display rather than practicality. That wasn't to say that Alfred didn't keep the place in tip-top shape constantly, because Alfred knew how to clean and decorate like no one else, and he'd feel insulted if anyone had any doubt about it, but clearly some extra cleaning had been done around here. Jason wanted to know why.
"Hey, replacement, you awake?"
Tim let out a small grunt in response.
"What's with the place? Seems like there's gonna be some gathering that I should know about."
The TV, which had been on commercial break, returned to what had apparently been the news. Jason mentally tuned out the words of the reporter speaking in the background, the woman's voice becoming distant. It was late. Jason was ready to hop into bed, but if there was going to be an event hosted at the manor, he'd opt out and stay somewhere else. Large social events had never really been his thing.
Tim glanced over his shoulder to glance at Jason before sluggishly moving from his position to sit straight. "Was watching some cooking show," he murmured, rubbing his right eye with his fingers. "Eventually switched to this to get more details on the Justice League's new TV show."
"New show?" Jason repeated, face twisting in confusion. "Did the League get tired of hero work and move on to the entertainment business? With some of the clowns they got in there, that idea ain't half bad."
A small huff of amusement escaped Tim's nose. "It's for charity purposes. It's one of those cooking-based competition shows. Billionaires will be the ones participating since, y'know. They got that cha-ching."
"Right," Jason said. He rested his arms on the back of the sofa and slouched as he looked down at Tim. "I'd pay good money to see Bruce in a show like that. He'd fail miserably."
Tim smirked. "Luckily, you won't need to pay a cent. Bruce on the other hand . . ."
Jason furrowed his brows until it hit him. He straighten up, grinning like he had just been told that he won the lottery. "Dude, please tell me you're serious."
Tim raised his hands up innocently. "I speak no lies."
Jason leaped over the back of the couch and landed besides Tim. "You gotta tell me all the details. It's being filmed here, right?" That must have been why the place was all perfect.
"Yep. We don't know how it'll all play out yet, but the camera crew is coming over tomorrow afternoon," Tim explained, his lethargy being replaced with some excitement as he leaned towards Jason. "I heard that Black Canary is going to be the judge. Don't know if there's supposed to be others one or who they'll. And it's all gonna be live."
Jason chuckled. "Meaning there's no way for Bruce to ask for anything embarrassing to be edited out. He'll need it, though. The old man can't cook for nothin'."
"Exactly. But we're gonna be a part of the show, too, you know," Tim added. "I think we're supposed to compete against him."
"Woah, woah. Hold the phone. It's not gonna be just him?"
"Nope. Bruce says that it's going to be a 'family activity.' I'm not exactly complaining. It seems like it could be fun. Also, winner gets a trophy."
Jason's smile began to fade as he remembered the thing that separated him from this so-called family.
"What's the matter?" Tim questioned, noticing the nineteen-year-old's sudden shift in emotion.
The sofa groaned softly under Jason's weight as he shifted uncomfortably. "It's not a big deal. Just realized that I'm not gonna be a part of this 'family activity' cause I'm freaking dead to the world."
For a moment Tim tensed up, not expecting that response, but then his shoulders sank. Disappointment spread across his features. Or maybe guilt. Jason couldn't tell. He supposed that he should be glad that Tim at least cared, but it still didn't change the fact that he couldn't participate in yet another event that he actually wanted to be a part of.
He felt like a ghost, and it sucked. It sucked a lot.
"Sorry, Jay," Tim said softly. It was genuine; Jason could see it in his eyes. "I almost forgot. It just feels so natural having you here that I forget that's not the case with the public."
Jason shrugged, instinctively turning his head to the side to avoid looking at the teenager. He didn't think that Tim was aware that he had unintentionally complimented Jason. He appreciated it, though.
"Don't worry about it," Jason eventually said, mustering the courage to look back at Tim. "It comes in handy sometimes, to be fair. I don't have to go to those dumb galas anymore. Besides, I think I'll have just as much fun watching you guys through the TV. It's a shame, though. I think I'm the only person besides Alfred who can cook in this . . . family."
If that's what you could call a dysfunctional group of orphans and vigilantes that had attacked each other one too many times and had gotten over it a little too easily.
Tim's lips stretch into a sheepish smile. "Hey, I was watching the cooking channel earlier for a reason. I'm trying to cram as much knowledge as I can."
"All that cramming isn't gonna mean anything if you're half asleep when the competition starts," Jason advised. "Go to bed, Tim. I'm dying to crash for the night myself."
"Yeah, I know," Tim groaned, lying back down to the position he had been in before Jason had interrupted him. He curled his legs to avoid touching Jason too much. "Let me watch one more cooking segment. Give me the remote."
"Fine. But, first, let me watch some more of the news to see if they say anything about the Justice League's show."
Tim nestled his face against the pillow he was resting against, getting a little too comfortable. "Okay."
Jason almost had to hold back a snort. Tim was definitely going to fall asleep there.
In a few minutes, Jason's prediction was proven correct judging by the faint, rhythmic breathing that filled the space. Jason turned off the TV at last and carefully got up to retrieve a blanket that he placed over Tim's body.
Tim looked gentle when he was asleep. Too bad Jason didn't get to see it often since the guy was such an insomniac.
__________
"Rise and shine, little wing!" A voice sung.
Jason's eyes fluttered open. It took him a moment to adjust to the sunlight in his room, but when he was no longer disoriented, he was welcomed to the sight of Dick hovering over him with an excited grin. He looked like an angel amidst the light.
It was annoying.
"Let me sleep," Jason grumbled, turning on his other side to face away from Dick.
"Hey, don't be like that," Dick drawled playfully. "Today's a special day. Tim said that he already told you. Don't you wanna be awake before it all starts?"
The cooking show.
Jason sprung forward and shoved Dick out of his way so that he could get off his bed. Barefoot, he walked out his room, Dick trailing right besides him.
"What time is it?" Jason asked as they made their way to the kitchen. His grogginess had clearly been short-lived.
"About noon," Dick answered. "The camera men should be here in an hour."
"Shoot. I should leave then, huh?"
Dick threw him an incredulous look. "No way, Jay! Look, I know you're probably feeling excluded, but we can make this work somehow. Stay here at the manor—just stay upstairs—and then during commercial breaks we'll regroup."
"Yeah, whatever," Jason muttered. As they approached the kitchen, he could smell a waft of eggs and toast. Damian was sitting on a counter stool, eating his breakfast as he spoke to Alfred, while Bruce and Tim were at the dining table reading magazines with recipes on the front cover. He was greeted good morning by Bruce and Alfred.
Dick took a seat right besides Damian and pushed a plate full of food in Jason's direction. "Guess who made breakfast for the whole fam?"
"It's sad that you need be in a cooking competition to have a sudden desire to make anything other than cereal, Grayson," Damian criticized. "I'm not sure how you'll manage with your utter lack of culinary skills."
Jason barked a laugh.
Dick put a hand up to his chest and feigned an indignant gasp. "Dami, how could be so brutal? I'm not that bad at cooking."
"He's brutally honest," Jason said in Damian's defense, taking a bite of of his scrambled eggs. "The eggs are decent, though."
"Well, thank you," Dick huffed. "I guess."
Damian squirmed in his seat. As much as the kid tried to hide it, he didn't want Dick to be mad at him. "I never said that the things you are capable of cooking are . . . distasteful. I was simply suggesting that you should broaden your skills."
Jason wanted to scoff, but Dick, who had been playfully pouting, broke into a bright smile pulled Damian in for a hug. Damian tried to pull away, but anyone could see that it was just for show. Dick and Damian were very different, but so strangely compatible.
Then, Bruce's phone rang. Everyone turned to watch him answer it.
"Good afternoon," he said to the caller. ". . . Yes. Yes. Of course. Alright, good to hear it. Okay." He hung up.
"What was it?" Damian asked.
"They're outside the door."
Ding!
Jason snapped his attention to the direction of the front door, and then looked back at his brothers while Alfred went to open the door and greet the guests.
"Well, good luck to all of you," Jason said, getting out of his chair. "Even though I'm rooting for you, Timbo."
Tim smiled at him. "I won't make any promises."
And with that, Jason ran off, climbing up the stairs, and headed to his room.
__________
Alfred returned to the kitchen with Black Canary at his side and multiple cameramen following right behind.
Dick was delighted to see Dinah, but he couldn't show any familiarity with the civilians around, so he pretended to be a excited fan. His family seemed to have thought the same thing.
"Wow. It's very nice to meet you, Black Canary," Bruce greeted. He shook hands with the woman while the camera crew got straight to work, setting cameras on the ground and placing studio lights wherever they saw fit. Alfred rushed to wash to dishes left on the sink from today's breakfast.
"How are you guys feeling?" Black Canary asked.
"Great!" Dick chirped. "Are you going to be a judge?"
"Yes. The other two are going to be Superman and Green Arrow," Black Canary revealed.
"Seriously?" Dick and Tim exclaimed at the same time.
"What?" Bruce uttered.
Damian shot Black Canary a confused look. "Shouldn't Superman have something better to do than be a judge for a cooking competition?"
Black Canary smirked, looking at Bruce intentionally. "I'm sure he does, but he said that he reallywanted to be a part of this episode."
Dick shook his head, chuckling. Having Superman there would definitely spur Bruce to actually trycooking well.
After a couple of minutes of preparation, Black Canary's phone rang. As she answered it and spoke to the caller, the door bell rang as well.
"I'll get it!" Dick shouted before Alfred could move to do so himself. He strolled across the halls and swung the door open, greeting Superman and conversing until they reached the kitchen where Black Canary was leaning against an island, crossing her arms as they approached her.
"Is everything alright, Canary?" Superman questioned. "You look upset."
Black Canary shook her head. "I'm fine. I'm just annoyed because Green Arrow can't make it today. Star city had an emergency he needed to tend to. I'm not sure what we should do now. . . Everyone else in the league is busy."
"It's too late to cancel the show now," Superman insisted. "We'll figure something out later."
Black Canary shrugged. "Fine, but if something goes wrong, I'm blaming you."
Superman waved her off with confidence.
"We go live in less than a minute!" A cameraman shouted.
Black Canary stood up straight and told Dick to stand behind one of the two brown islands behind her where Bruce and the others were. Dick quickly complied, placing himself besides Damian while Black Canary and Superman got in their places in front of the center camera.
One of the main cameramen was signaling the amount of seconds left with his fingers.
5 . . .
4 . . .
"Wait, I have several questions," Dick blurted. No one had explained anything to him.
"Shh!" Black Canary and Superman hushed at him.
2 . . .
1 . . .
"Hello!" Superman announced in a host-like manner. "And welcome to Super Chefs!"
Damian scrunched his eyebrows and muttered, "that's the name of the show? That doesn't make sense. The superheroes are the judges not the chefs."
"Woah, there, buddy," Superman cut in awkwardly. "The microphones are picking up everything you're saying."
"Tt. I'm aware of that."
Tim sighed. "Stop making a scene."
"Anyway, we are super, Dami," Dick said.
Bruce and Tim stared at him with wide eyes, thinking that he just casually leaked their secret identities.
"Super for donating to charity and being on this show," Dick concluded, winking at the camera. "Obviously!"
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That's the spirit," Clark said, laughing. He refocused his attention to the camera. "Alright, back to the introduction. Right now you folks at home are watching the first episode of Super Chefs live at the Wayne manor! Today, Bruce Wayne and his children Dick Grayson—" Dick enthusiastically waved at the camera "—Tim Drake—" Tim also waved, but more calmly "—and Damian Wayne—" Damian raised his chin proudly "—will he participating in a cooking competition to see who is the best chef in the fami—"
"Other than Alfred our butler," Dick interjected.
"Yes," Superman said with a hint of exasperation from being interrupted so many times already, "other than Alfred. . . Okay, so, Black Canary and I will be the judges who decide who has the best cooking! As you probably noticed, there are supposed to be three judges but we only have two. Due to unforeseen circumstances, Green Arrow, who was supposed to be the third judge, will not be joining us."
"But Superman has everything under control," Black Canary added slyly. "Isn't that right, Superman?"
Superman cleared his throat and offered her one of his classic, charming smiles. "Of course."
"Perfect," Black Canary said, now taking the lead. "Now, here is how the competition is going to work. There are going to be three rounds. For the first two rounds, you guys will be in teams. I'll explain the rules for each round as the show progresses, but for now, I'll explain the rules and objective concerning round one.
"Round one is relatively simple. You and your partner will need to work as a team to creat a meal. Whichever team makes the best platter, earns themselves an advantage. These advantages will be used in the next round, which will be an elimination round. Does everyone understand so far?"
Bruce and Tim settled for a nod while Damian went with, "of course."
"Yeah, I get it," Dick said, "but how are the teams going to be decided? Can we choose who we want to work with?"
"I was just about to get into that," Black Canary assured. "It's going to be random. You'll pick a slip of paper out of box. There's team A and team B."
Tim wore an expression of displeasure. "Team A or B? That's so lame. I'll come up with something better."
"You took the words right out of my mouth," Dick responded, looking over Damian's head to give Tim a grin.
"Uh," Superman uttered. "Are they even allowed to do that?"
Black Canary shrugged. "Why not." She promptly left to retrieve something.
"Stop this," Damian curtly demanded, using his palms to push his two older brothers on the chest away from each other. "Don't speak to one another, because you two are now competitors. Grayson, we mustn't allow Drake or father to get us to lose our focus."
"Damian, you not might end up in a team with Dick. It's random," Bruce reminded.
"I won't settle for less," is all Damian replied with.
Black Canary returned with a small black box of scrap paper and started with Bruce. "Close your eyes and pick one."
Bruce easily obliged and took a slip of paper. Opening his eyes, he looked at it and read out loud, "team A."
Next was Tim. "Team B."
Dick could only wonder how Damian's subsequent frown could look so childish and furious at the same time.
"This is preposterous," the ten-year-old boy declared, crossing his arms. "I agreed to this competition because I was told that I would be cooking with Grayson, but I can't do that if we're in opposite teams. I will not be participating if I can't be on the same team as him."
"Oh, look, the gremlin is throwing a temper tantrum when things don't go his way," Tim mocked, his patience getting worn thin. "Get over it."
"Tim, please," Bruce intervened. "Damian, you're still cooking with Dick—"
"Fellas, I hate to interrupt, but we need to start the competition ASAP," Superman cut in. "We're on the clock."
Damian didn't budge. He let out a stubborn noise that sounded like: "hmph."
"Aw, little D," Dick cooed, putting a hand on Damian's shoulder. Damian hesitantly met Dick's gaze. "I'd love to cook with you some time, you know. We can totally do that whenever you want—outside the competition, of course. For now, we'll be in opposite teams, but I'm sure that at the end, it'll be the last two competitors against each other. So let's give it our all so that we can be the last two standing and cooking side by side, okay?"
For a moment, no one said a word. Damian broke the silence by saying, "tt. I suppose you're right."
Black Canary performed a single sharp clap. "Alright! Enough chit-chat, please! Damian and Dick, choose a team."
While she held the box of scrap paper for Damian, Tim recovered from Dick's mini speech. "Man, Dick, that was honestly kinda inspiring? Like, please be on my team?"
Damian hissed at his slip of paper. "Team . . . B . . ."
"NO!" Tim immediately cried, lurching forward onto the island in despair. "This is the literal worstpossible scenario! Why me?"
"So that leaves me with you, B," Dick told Bruce. "Heh. B. Would've been funny if you were on team B, B. Hah!"
"I'm not exactly thrilled about this either, Drake," Damian spat.
Hastily, Superman gestured to his right, where another island lied next to the one the Waynes were already standing by. "Team B, please go to the next island and we will finally begin."
Damian and Tim begrudgingly complied, giving each other snarky looks and side comments as they did so.
"You will have fifteen minutes to create whichever meal you think will impress the judges," Superman informed. "Use your partner to your advantage and work together. Don't make anything you can't handle, but make sure to put in some effort, too. Also, it's important to mention that any cheating will not be tolerated, so no using any outside sources for help. You may not help another team, either. Any questions?"
The contestants all said no.
"Then you may now begin!" Superman hollered, clearly relieved that the competition was being set into motion at last.
Both teams scrambled to grab their supplies and ingredients from the cabinets and pantry. The ruckus of pans clattering filled the air as they grabbed whatever they saw.
"So, what should we make?" Dick heard Tim ask Damian as he reached for a pan.
"Why, don't have any ideas yourself?" Damian asked, his voice laced with cockiness. It sounded like he already had a dish in mind.
Tim exhaled angrily. "I have plenty of ideas."
"Good. Then you have no reason to speak. I need to focus, and I can't do that while listening to your obnoxious voice."
"My obnoxious voice? You're the one who sounds like a medieval chipmunk," Tim snapped. "I don't need your permission to speak, brat. If you don't want me to talk to you, then fine. I wasn't going to, anyway. I'll work by myself!"
"As will I!" Damian decided.
They took what they needed and stormed to their spots at the island, silently glaring daggers at each other.
Dick returned to his own island with his supplies and caught Bruce staring at the two boys with disapproval. His father mumbled, "did they forget that they're on live TV?" Dick understood the man's frustration. They all still had a reputation uphold and the two youngest weren't helping.
"Hey, they'll be alright," Dick assured.
Bruce sighed. "I'm not so sure. I'm worried that they'll tear each other's throats out before the fifteen minutes are up."
"Well, they'll need to work together if they want to win the round," Dick said, wanting to ease Bruce's concern. "Maybe this is an opportunity for them to bond a little."
Bruce seemed to muse on that, smiling softly. "Maybe. Thank you, Dick."
"Pfft, don't you go thanking me yet. We haven't even begun," Dick answered. He moved his attention from Bruce to the rest of the kitchen to check up on Damian and Tim, but paused when he noticed that three cameramen had circled around him and Bruce, tuning in on their private conversation. Dick thought that was a little creepy, but he should have expected it. Their every move was pretty much available for the show to use for entertainment. That was just the way reality television worked. Besides, Dick was used to having multiple cameras close in on his face from the crazy paparazzi.
At the other island, cameramen had occupied the area around Tim and Damian, too.
"Alright, Dick. Got anything in mind?" Bruce asked.
Dick stroked his chin in thought, humming. "We don't have much time, so we'll need to make something easy. What about . . . tacos?"
Bruce snapped his fingers. "Better yet: burritos. It'll seem like we put in more effort."
Dick pointed at him, quirking his brows up. "Yessss!"
They got to work. This was going to be a breeze.
__________
Jason snacked on a bag of chips he had kept lying in his room for a while now as he lounged on his bed, watching his family make fools out of themselves on TV. Why couldn't they just behave and act normal for once?
Well, truth be told, no one wanted that. Things were much more entertaining this way, even if he had to suffer from a little bit of secondhand embarrassment.
Right now, Bruce and Dick were actually working very well together. Bruce was making a marinade for the meat and Dick was warming the tortillas on a pan.
The screen then switched to display Tim and Damian. They, on the other hand, were not working together at all. Damian was on his side, dumping chickpeas and other ingredients into a food processor. Jason wasn't sure what Damian was making, but Tim's plan was terribly obvious.
He pulled a frozen pizza out of the refrigerator.
"Drake, please tell me you're joking," Damian urged incredulously, finally speaking.
Tim placed the pizza down on a counter and opened the oven. "What's there to joke about?"
"Frozen pizza is the laziest, low quality food you could have chosen!"
"Everyone loves pizza, okay?" Tim defended. "And who are you to judge? What are you even making?"
Damian narrowed his eyes, and Jason snorted when the camera zoomed in on the boy's expression. "I am making Arabic styled hummus. It consists of strong, delightful flavors that I'm certain will sway the judges and seize my victory. Much more creative than a pitiful frozen pizza, don't you think?"
Tim blinked, and then scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Okay, yeah . . . That's pretty creative." He shrugged. "I'll be honest, I don't know how to cook anything. At least, not without Alfred's guidance. The only thing I can make is coffee."
"I expected that," Damian said, and took a quick look at Team A's progress. The screen showed Bruce and Dick moving rapidly before returning to Tim and Damian. Damian's harsh stance softened the slightest bit. "Drake, as much as I hate to say it, I think we should collaborate after all. Father and Grayson are working far too well together and we'll be left in the dust if we keep it up at this rate."
Tim cracked a smile. "You think so? Huh. Then what should I do about this pizza? I still think it's sort of a good idea."
"We can make it work, I suppose," Damian said. "Perhaps we could use my hummus as a dipping sauce for the pizza."
"Yeah!" Tim agreed. "It'll distract from any bland flavor and make it unique!"
"Perfect," Damian responded, satisfied with their decision making. "Quickly, put the pizza in the oven and fetch me another plate."
Tim snickered, bending down to place the pizza in the oven. "Alright, alright, I'm on it. Don't get cocky now just because you're taking the lead."
The screen changed to broadcast Dick and Bruce's conversation.
"I was thinking, we should name our team: The Good Looks Cooks. 'Cause we're so handsome," Dick suggested, singing the last bit of his sentence.
Bruce zipped a ziplock bag closed and placed it where it belonged. "Dick, please, focus."
"I will," Dick ensured. "Is that a good team name, though? Or is it too much of a tongue twister?"
"Mhm."
"Okay, I can change it then. What about . . . 2cool 2cook?"
Bruce gestured to the onion and peppers on the cutting board. "I would rather not. Now please slice these."
Dick grabbed a knife and followed Bruce's request. "You're no fun, B. I think I'll name our team: The Salty Chefs, since that's looking accurate right about now."
Jason chuckled, but jolted out of his bed when he heard a laugh that wasn't his own right behind him.
A redhead appeared by his door and waved at him.
"Babs!" Jason scolded. "You almost sent me back to my grave!"
Barbara had the audacity to grin at him. Halfheartedly, she said, "sorry."
"How'd you even get here? And how in the world didn't I hear you with your wheelchair?"
"I broke in through the roof," Barbara said with blatant sarcasm. "Alfred let me in, obviously. And it's not my fault you were practically absorbed to that TV."
Jason rolled his eyes and sat back down to his previous position. Barbara wheeled to the corner of his bed.
"I wanted to watch the show with someone," she said. "Television is always better with company. Particularly when you want good commentary."
"That's true," Jason said, throwing his blanket onto her. "Get comfy. This'll take a while." He offered her his near-empty bat of chips. She kindly declined.
Surprisingly, back to the the TV, the screen panned to the judges. They were farther away from the contestants where they could see both teams cooking, but couldn't hear them if they lowered their voices. They were sitting at a table with three seats, the seat in the middle empty.
"It's almost time and we don't even have a third judge," Black Canary criticized.
"I know," Superman admitted. "I called everyone, but it was pointless. All busy." He looked directly at the camera. "The life of a hero is a very busy one, folks!"
Man, Superman was definitely taking this host thing seriously.
The two heroes continued talking, but Jason ignored them.
If there was room for one more person, then why not him? He could go as Red Hood.
Jason stood up. Barbara gave him a look of confusion.
"Guess who's gonna be the next judge on Super Chefs," he said with a sharp smirk. He didn't give Barbara the chance to question him before he left the room and hurried to the Batcave.
__________
Black Canary stepped out of the kitchen and away from the cameras and microphones when her phone vibrated in her pocket.
"Hello?" She said, answering the call.
"What's up, Dinah?" A familiar voice responded back casually.
"Jason? Hi, how are you doing?"
"I'm doing alright," he said on the other end. "But I'll be way better when I pull up to the Wayne Manor as the third judge."
Canary wasn't sure if she had heard that right. "I'm sorry?"
"No, don't be. It'll be a blast."
"Jason, enough," Black Canary demanded. "What do you mean by the third judge?"
"Look, you just said it on live TV. You need a third judge, and of course you're only gonna invite heroes. I'm not exactly a hero, but I'm totally not a villain. Not anymore, at least."
"Jason, I appreciate the concern, but you're Red Hood. While most of the Justice League trusts you now, the public doesn't really know how to feel about you, and it wouldn't look good to have a criminal on our show."
"Oh . . ." Jason said quietly. "I . . . I understand. I guess I'll just continue watching my. . . family through a screen while I sit all alone in my room. It's okay. I'm used to being the outcast . . ."
Canary sharply inhaled. He was trying to make her feel guilty and she knew it.
But it was working. And she really needed a third judge soon.
". . . Fine. You can come. But you better behave," she ordered firmly.
"Yes, ma'am!" Jason shouted on the other end of her phone and hung up mid cackle.
Black Canary sighed. She didn't know how she was going to explain this to Superman. And the Waynes. And the Justice League. And everyone watching.
__________
Barbara had decided to steal Jason's spot on the bed and take it as her own since he had just ditched her without a second thought. It would have hurt her if it weren't so ridiculously predictable. Anyway, she slightly deserved it for purposely jump-scaring him earlier.
The TV was currently focusing on Dick and Bruce, who seemed to be doing well until Dick dipped his finger in the marinade that Bruce had made and contorted his face into a wince.
"What?" Bruce asked.
Dick made a couple of unpleasant, wet sounds as he smacked his lips, trying to get rid of the taste of the sauce. "It's so sour, B. What did you put in that?"
Bruce frowned. "Maybe I put too much lemon juice."
"Probably," Dick commented. "So, uh . . . how do we fix this?"
Bruce stroked his chin as he thought about it. "I think I remember Alfred mentioning one time to add salt to something that's too sour."
An idea lit in Dick's eyes. He ran to the sink and got himself half a glass of water.
"Or was it sugar . . ." Bruce muttered.
"How about we just dilute it with water?" Dick suggested.
"I don't know," Bruce said, unsure. "We don't want it to be too runny."
Dick threw his hands in the air with a groan. "Fine. Since neither of us know, let's just do whatever."
Before Bruce could retort, Dick grabbed a salt shaker, served himself a scoop of sugar, and dumped a random amount of each ingredient into the bowl. He scooped a bit with his pointer finger and put it in his mouth.
"How is it now?" Bruce questioned.
Before replying, Dick grabbed the glass of water he served earlier and poured it all into the marinade. He stuck his finger in and tasted it again.
"Dick, you just doubled dipped."
Triple, actually, Barbara thought.
"What the judges don't know won't kill them," Dick said offhandedly. "And, uh, well, it's not so sour now?"
Bruce took a quick glimpse into the bowl and sighed upon seeing that the marinade was more water than anything else. "I don't think I want to know how it tastes anymore."
He turned to the stove, probably to tend to some onions that had been cooking on a pan during their conversation, which already looked too burnt to save.
After a small moment of time spent cooking without any conversation from either team, Superman flew to the two islands. "Hey, everyone. I just wanted to let you know that there are five more minutes left."
Damian and Tim were practically done, while Bruce and Dick hurriedly wrapped the meat, sauce, onions, peppers, lettuce, and other ingredients into the burrito. They put too many ingredients on the tortilla, though, because the tortilla began to leak with grease until lettuce and onions spilled out through a hole. This happened to each burrito.
"Time is up! Put your tools down, please!" Superman announced.
All of the contestants put their hands up to show that they weren't doing anything.
Right as Superman was about to say something else, Alfred showed up, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.
"I apologize for interrupting," he said, "but there is someone at the door who claims that they were invited here?"
Everyone looked confused, except Black Canary. She sent Superman an apologetic smile and said, "bring him in please."
Alfred nodded and left to the front door. As he came back, the sound of heavy footsteps accompanied him, echoing across the halls.
"What's up, ya unseasoned chicken breasts?" Red Hood said casually, his voice slightly altered by his red helmet, as he pulled up into the kitchen and jumped over the table and onto the empty judge seat like he owned the place.
Bruce's eyes bulged out of his head.
Tim's jaw dropped. "What the—"
"What is this heathen doing here?" Damian exclaimed.
Superman stammered and glanced at the camera with a wavering smile. "Uh . . ?"
"I invited him," Black Canary revealed, running a hand through her blonde hair. "We needed a judge and he was available. Don't worry. He's safe."
"Hey, Red Hood, how are you planning to try our food with that helmet on?" Dick asked, eyes twinkling with joy now that Jason was here with them.
"I'm glad you asked," Red Hood said. He raised his hands to his helmet and dramatically pulled it off. A domino mask covered his eyes, but his mouth was now free. He shook his head to allow his ebony hair to elegantly swing in the hair. "There, now everyone can get a better look at my drop dead gorgeous face."
Dick laughed. Bruce wasn't as amused, but there wasn't much he could say while they were on television.
"Well, now that we have all of our judges, let's begin tasting your meals," Black Canary proposed. "Team A, you guys first."
Some intense music began to play in the background.
Dick and Bruce looked at each other, but Dick stepped forward. "I'll serve it to them. My charm is bound to sway them off their feet. You stay here." He grabbed a plate with a couple of burritos on it and headed towards the judges, winking at a camera along the way.
"Hello, Dick," Superman greeted politely. "Please tell us about your dish."
"Sure thing, Supes," Dick said, placing the plate on the judge's table. "Bruce and I wanted to make something simple that would be made within the thirty minutes, but we also wanted something a bit fun and, of course, tasty! So please tell us if our mission was successful!" He moved to the side so he wouldn't be blocking anyone's view of the judges or his team's food.
"Will do, Dick," Superman said. He took a burrito, but it instantly fell apart in his hands before he could take a bite.
"PFFT," Tim wheezed from his island, pressing a fist over his mouth. "What a beautiful creation you have there."
Dick pursed his lips, and Barbara couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or if he was trying to hold back his own criticism.
"I think I could use a fork or two," Superman requested.
"Nah, you know you failed to make a burrito if someone needs a fork to eat it," Red Hood deadpanned.
"Give it a chance, Red."
Tim and Damian snickered to themselves as Dick retrieved three forks and gave one to Superman. He put the other two on the plate. Superman poked the burrito with the fork and held onto the bottom with his hand, which was already drowning in spilled sauce and oil. He took a successful bite out of it.
Everyone watched him keenly, waiting for his judgement.
Superman swallowed. "Honestly, it's not that bad."
"Not 'that bad.' Thanks, Superman," Bruce retorted with crossed arms.
"Hey, I mean it," Superman said earnestly. "It's not the greatest burrito I've ever had, but it's decent. Actually, it's pretty good!"
"I'll be the judge of that," Red Hood said, snatching a fork and stabbing it into the burrito. The moment he took a bite, he spit it out. "Nasty!"
Dick did a double take. Bruce looked personally offended. Intense, dramatic music played in the background.
"Superman, are your tastebuds broken from all those trips into space?" Red Hood shouted. "The meat in this tastes bland and undercooked, and—is that a burnt onion?! This is outright shameful! I've seen dog vomit look more appetizing than this!"
Superman put his palms up in defense.
Jason pointed at Dick. "How could you willingly serve me this monstrosity?"
Dick opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Speechless. He had an expression that looked like a combination of shocked and about to burst into laughter at the same time.
"If you told me that you used to work as a chef in a high school cafeteria, I would believe you a hundred percent, because if this doesn't give me flashbacks . . ." Red Hood trailed off, shivering at the memory.
"Quit attacking Grayson," Damian argued. "Father took part in creating the burritos as well, so place some responsibility onto him as well."
"Man, put on the spot by his own son," Tim remarked under his breath.
Red Hood snorted. "Oh, I haven't even gotten started—"
"I think you made your point more than clear," Black Canary cut in sternly. "Let me try and we'll move on."
The anti-hero frowned, but didn't argue. Black Canary took a bite out of the burrito. "It's less than mediocre," she said after a brief moment of silence. "It was a nice idea, but you two executed it poorly."
Dick shrugged good-heartedly. "That's fair." He looked at Bruce. "Do you agree?"
Bruce crossed his arms. "Yes, but I wasn't not too fond of Red Hood's unnecessary commentary."
Tim nodded. "It was pretty brutal."
"Hey, I tell it how it is," Red Hood said.
"Team B, your turn," Black Canary instructed.
Tim and Damian both walked up to the judges. Damian held a bowl of hummus while Tim held the pizza. As they placed down the plates, Superman said, "for a frozen pizza, that looks very fresh."
"We freshened it up a bit," Tim informed, sharing a look with Damian.
"As for our team name, we declare ourselves the Sharpened Knifes," Damian said with his chin jutted.
"Okay, edge lord," Red Hood said.
"If this weren't a cooking competition, I'd be concerned," Dick said, "but since it is, I think it's pretty cute. When you guys are a team, sharpened knifes seems about a right way to describe you both."
"I agree," Tim said. "About it being concerning, I mean. I just went along with it to satisfy the little gremlin."
Damian glowered at his partner. "We are the Sharpened Knifes because we cut up the competition, Drake. Just as I will do to you when we are no longer teammates."
"Damian, what did I say about threatening your brother?" Bruce scolded.
"At least you both agreed on a name," Dick said, giving Bruce a pointed look. "I named our team Salty Chefs, because I'm salty that B didn't help me come up with a better name."
"C'mon, Dick—" Bruce tried to say, but was interrupted by Superman who had just tasted the Sharpened Knifes' meal.
"Mm," Superman hummed, eyebrows raised. "This is actually really good, boys."
Damian and Tim paused their scowling in favor of watching the rest of the judges pick up a slice of dipped pizza and give it a try.
Red hood took a bite. In between bites he said, "for once, I agree with the alien. Good to know that a ten and seventeen-year-old can cook better than two adult men."
Barbara could tell by the look Bruce gave Red Hood that he'd be hearing about this from Bruce later on.
"I did most of the work, but I suppose I must credit Drake for his assistance," Damian said, his words lacking its usual harshness.
Black Canary finished chewing her own slice of pizza with hummus. "I'm impressed, Sharpened Knifes. You've managed to compromise and create a pleasant meal that has flavor, simplicity, and personality. When you two argued at the start of the round, I was sure it'd cause you to fail, but now you've turned the tide."
Superman looked at a camera. "Now it's time for us judges to privately discuss who will be the winner of this round. It won't be easy." He turned to the contestants. "Please give us a moment—"
"Everyone already knows which team won," Damian interrupted. "It's painfully clear."
Dick and Bruce reluctantly nodded.
"Oh," Superman uttered. "Well, we're supposed to dramatically reveal it . . ." He looked at Black Canary and Red Hood for guidance.
"Screw it," Red Hood said as he dismissively flicked his hand. "The sharting Knifes obviously win. Onto the next round. I want some entertainment." He turned to a camera and cheered, "am I right, people?"
"It's sharpened, fool," Damian corrected.
"Little D doesn't know what a shart is, does he?" Dick noted.
Bruce's eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion. "Even I don't know what a shart is."
A round of laughter burst out of Red Hood and Dick, then Tim, and even some cameramen.
"Alright, alright," Black Canary grumbled. Through the noise, she quietly made a comment about being stuck with a bunch of nine-year-olds and told Superman to go on break.
The two judges turned to a camera, and Superman said, "We're going to go on a commercial break, but we'll see you folks real soon. Stay where you are, because round two is next!"
Before Barbara knew it, a commercial for headache medicine popped up. She rubbed her forehead. After this show, she would definitely be needing some of that. Maybe she'd get it and offer some to poor Black Canary and Superman.
__________
During the break, everyone took the time to get a drink and use the bathroom. Dick wanted to go up to Jason and chase him around for dissing his and Bruce's burritos like they were expired milk on live TV, though he couldn't deny that it had been hilarious to witness Jason critique them as if he were some type of famous world renounced chef.
Unfortunately, there were still civilians around, so Dick just settled with a casual wave. Bruce on the other hand wasn't too subtle with the way he looked at Red Hood, wordlessly saying: you know you shouldn't be here. But there was warmth in that gaze that had everyone who knew him well seeing that he was happy Jason could join them.
When the short break was over, they got to their places and were scrutinized by cameras and mics once again.
"And we're back!" Superman announced to the cameras. "This is Super Chefs, and we're about to begin round two! But before we can do that, the Sharpened Knifes are going to get their advantages for winning the last round."
"Aw, I forgot about that," Dick muttered. He didn't know what an advantage was, but he wanted one.
"This round will be an elimination round," Superman said, causing all the contestants to assess each other with quick glances. Everyone was now a threat. "The person to create the worst dish on each team will be eliminated. Only two chefs will remain after this round."
Dick had to hold back a smile. Not to sound cocky, but he was sure that he could out cook Bruce any day. He wasn't particularly good, but Bruce was worse. And after seeing how Damian had carried his team last round, Damian must've felt the same way with Tim.
Well, Damian's wish to make it to the end of the competition with Dick seemed highly likely now. The only thing that could change that would be these advantages.
Black Canary approached the Sharpened Knifes with a cup full of scrap paper. "Close your eyes and pick one. The one you choose will be your advantage," she directed.
Tim went first, blindly sticking his hand in the cup and swirling his hand in it until he felt it was time to grab something. He opened his eyes and read, "extra ten minutes to cook. Nice!" He gave Damian a smug grin, but it didn't seem to faze the younger boy.
Damian briefly closed his eyes and picked the slip of paper that lied on the very top of the pile. He read the slip and immediately beamed with mischief, his green eyes narrowing like a tiger hunting his next meal. "Thirty seconds to sabotage your opponent's dish."
"No fair!" Tim exclaimed. He threw a pleading look at Superman and Black Canary, but they shrugged uselessly.
"Today is not your day, Timmy," Red Hood remarked with some sympathy.
"Clearly."
"Hey, you have just as much of a chance of winning as Damian does," Bruce encouraged. "We all do. Believe in yourself, Tim."
Tim rubbed his neck. "Um . . . Sure. Thanks for the support. Even though I'm not the only one who'll need it . . ."
"You may all begin now," Black Canary groaned, tired of the constant bickering. "You have thirty minutes to create any meal you want. You can't help each other. No cheating. Blah, blah, you get the point. Go."
"Black Canary," Superman whined, "you can't just say it like that."
Just like last round, Dick and the others scurried around the kitchen for the items and ingredients they needed. Damian and Tim seemed to have returned back to enemies, because they turned their backs to one another, only looking at the other when the urge to have stare down struck. Which happened way too many times within a short amount of time.
Dick wanted to be civil with Bruce, though. Like the mature adults they were.
"So, whatcha' making?" Dick casually asked Bruce as he poured water into a pot.
Bruce noticed what Dick was doing with his pot and gave him a weird look. "What are you making?"
"Spaghetti."
The elder man's jaw went slack before he groaned. "I was gonna make mac 'n cheese . . ."
"Copy cat!" Dick accused. "We can't both do pasta. We'll look so uncreative!"
"No, you're the copy cat!" Bruce argued, now looking defensive. "I'm telling you, I got the idea first. During last round."
Yep. They were totally mature adults.
Dick crossed his arms and huffed. "Well, I'm still gonna make spaghetti."
Bruce didn't back down. "And I'll still stick with my mac 'n cheese."
Dick turned around and put his pot on the stove, muttering, "probably 'cause that's the only thing you could make without burning the manor down."
His mutter hadn't been much of a mutter because of the mics hovering over him. Everyone looked at Dick with wide eyes and blurted out their comments all at once.
"Daaaaaang, Dick."
"Dude, this competition is turning you into a monster."
"Grayson isn't wrong."
"Bruce, he didn't mean that."
"The clock is ticking, people."
They all continued to work in silence probably for the first time all day, until Tim let out a panicked, "uhhhhh—"
Dick nearly choked on his spit when he landed his eyes on Damian, who was holding a literal katana. Right in front of all the cameras.
"Uh. Damian," Bruce said carefully, acutely aware that this was being live broadcasted and any mishap could reveal their nighttime hobby. "What do you have there?"
"I just opened a drawer to looks for a knife to cut my zucchini when I found this," Damian answered stiffly.
Dick knew how to get himself out of this situation. He hoped the others would follow his lead. "Wow, I didn't know Alfred used knifes that big," he said dumbly.
Tim cleared his throat. "I know right. Like, what even is that?"
"Maybe it's to . . . uh, cut coconuts?" Bruce added, and Dick could see him getting into his role as the halfwitted billionaire playboy. "I heard those things are pretty hard. Not that I would know, though, 'cause Alfred does everything for me. And I never do manual labor."
"Ohhh, yeaaah," Dick drawled in agreement. "That makes so much sense. You're so smart, B."
Looking through the act, Dick could see Bruce struggling to not roll his eyes. Seriously, his eyelids were twitching and everything.
"I see," Damian uttered. He put the katana back into the drawer and closed it. "I still don't know where the regular knifes are."
"I have some here, but I'm not allowed to help you," Bruce said, gesturing to the knifes they used to make the burritos last round.
Damian clicked his tongue. Dick watched Tim and Damian go through some of the cabinets. He should be focusing on his dish, but Dick found his little brothers too entertaining to ignore. He had to wait for his pot of water to get hot enough to put the pasta in, anyway, so really he wasn't wasting time watching.
Then he noticed that while that was taking place, Tim had been cooking meat on the stove. Meat that had been utterly drenched in oil, and on a stove that was set all the way too high. His focus wasn't on how the meat was burning, but rather on the licks of flame that were coming out of it and growing bigger by the second.
"Fire!" One of the cameramen shouted before he could.
Tim let out a small shriek, but jumped into action. He pulled the pan away from the fire and ran for the extinguisher. Damian remained unbothered and continued to scavenge the kitchen. Tim returned and used an excessive amount of the extinguisher until the entire stove looked like it had just endured a mini snowstorm.
"Tt. It's ridiculous that you could find an extinguisher in five seconds, but I can't even find a knife a kitchen," Damian said.
Everyone else exploded with questions, asking if they were alright, what just happened, and how did that happen. Except for Superman. Superman looked at one of the cameras and said, "now that's how you handle a kitchen fire, folks! Never add water to an oil fire, and try to cut off the heat or oxygen that fuels it. If anything, call for an adult!"
"I really thought Brucie here would be the one to start a fire," Red Hood snickered.
Black Canary rubbed a hand across her face. "Okay," she said heavily. "I'm glad everyone is safe. But there is too much going on here. We might need to restart the round."
"Noooo," everyone—literally everyone, including the cameramen and other behind the scenes staff—groaned.
Damian's nostrils flared as he pointed a finger at Tim. "This is all your fault. If you had just been more attentive, we wouldn't have to do this and the stove wouldn't be buried in powder."
"Well, if you hadn't pulled your kat—"
Tim's sentence was cut short when Damian hurled a piece of mayonnaise-covered bread into his mouth. The seventeen-year-old spit it out and sputtered, until shock was replaced with indignation, and then anger. Tim reached for the other piece of bread that sat right next to him.
"Tim," Bruce pleaded, "please, don't—"
The bread made a plop sound as it hit Damian flat on the forehead.
"This is WAR," Damian cried. He and Tim seized any and all throwable foods near them and began to wildly throw it at each other.
"FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!" Red Hood chanted. "Someone fetch me some popcorn!" He leaned back, rested his shoes on the table, and spared a glance towards Superman and Black Canary, only to realize they were glaring at him.
Dick and Bruce ran up to the Sharpened Knifes and pulled the two boys away from each other. Dick held onto Damian while Bruce handled Tim.
"You two know much better than to act like this," Bruce condemned, his voice clipped with frustration.
"Damian started it!" Tim exclaimed, his face sticky with food. "Seriously, I'm only human. I can only deal with him for so long until I go berserk!"
Damian squirmed in Dick's grasp, one of his eyes squinted closed.
"What's wrong with your eye, Dami?" Dick questioned.
"Nothing," he growled. "I just want to finish this competition."
"He must've gotten something in his eye," Bruce inferred. "He needs to rinse it out before it causes irritation."
"I refuse!"
Dick petted Damian's head, running his finger through the boy's dark locks. "What if I go with you, bud?"
Damian's eyebrows drew together. "But the competition . . . You'll be disqualified."
"Psh," Dick said dismissively. "This whole thing has gone up in flames. Quite literally. Two people need to be eliminated this round, and you started the food fight, so you're probably already out. And if you're out, then I'm out, 'cause I wanted to be with you, remember?"
Guilt spread across Damian's features. "I don't want to be the reason you leave. Continue the competition, Grayson."
"Nah," Dick said. He released Damian from his clutches, which had become more of a hug than anything. "C'mon, little D, let's go wash your face."
Damian allowed Dick to guide him away from the kitchen. Dick looked over his shoulder to wave at everyone before heading towards the nearest bathroom.
__________
It turned out that Alfred had removed most of the knifes from the kitchen the day before, because Damian had gotten a little handsy with them, and had forgotten to return them to the kitchen. Dick found this out when he had bumped into Alfred after helping Damian wash his eye and clean up.
"And how did my katana end up there?" Damian asked the butler.
Alfred chuckled to himself, appearing painfully amused that that had happened. "Now that I can not provide an answer for, Master Damian."
"I wouldn't be surprised if Jason had placed it there," Dick said. Damian hummed in agreement.
After their little break, he and Damian decided to go back to the kitchen and see what was up with Bruce and Tim. Damian had cooled down greatly and hopefully Tim had done the same.
"Well, look who's come to give us a visit," Red Hood announced, grabbing everyone's attention.
"Hey," Dick said, feeling a bit too drained to offer a more exciting greeting. He left his hand on Damian's shoulder. "What are you guys up to now?"
"You've come right on time," Black Canary informed. "After some consideration, we've decided to continue the competition after almost canceling it. Bruce and Tim will be going against each other in this third round, which is the final round, thank God. It will be a baking competition."
"Oh, that sounds fun!" Dick said. He wished that he could've participated in a baking round instead of the stressful cooking ones he had just taking a part of.
"We had to dumb it down majorly," Red Hood said, shaking his head with a smirk. "We gave them those packages you can get at the supermarket that already have the cake mix it in with the instructions."
"Huh. That's so easy that I think Tim and Bruce have an equal chance of winning."
"They're equally terrible at cooking. We'll see if that's the case when it comes to baking," Damian mused.
"What a supportive son I have," Bruce muttered, but it was all light-hearted.
Damian perked up, as if he just remembered something. He looked at Black Canary and Superman. Not Red Hood, because he has no authority despite being a judge. "I never got to use my advantage."
"Should've thought about that before you started a food fight," Black Canary said coldly.
"Ah, just let him use it," Tim insisted. "I'm feeling kind of confident, so I think I have a good chance of winning regardless of what he does."
Black Canary shrugged. "If you're okay with it, then sure." She looked at Superman and he nodded.
Damian blinked and studied Tim like he thought there was an ulterior motive. When he couldn't seem to read anything suspicious on the elder brother's face he swallowed and said, "I appreciate that, Drake."
"We'll see if I regret it," Tim said, raising a brow skeptically, but smiling nonetheless.
With that, the round began. Dick and Damian grabbed a chair and sat next to the judges as they watched the chaos unfold before their eyes.
Tim and Bruce managed to get flour everywhere, shells in their mix, and mix on the counter. Tim didn't mix the ingredients together enough while Bruce accidentally added too much milk. How these were the same people who were considered the world's greatest detectives, Dick didn't know.
Eventually when it became time to put the batter into the oven, Damian stood up. "I wish to use my advantage now."
Tim anxiously ran a hand through his hair. "Okay."
Damian walked away from the judges, but instead of walking up to Tim's island, he made a turn and approached Bruce's instead. Everyone in the room looked confused at this, but remained silent. Damian faced his back towards them so that they couldn't see what he was doing and even made Bruce look away. When the thirty seconds were up, Damian was done.
By the time he sat down, Bruce and Tim put their batter in the oven, the both of them sharing a perplexed look.
Dick broke the silence. "Uh, I'm guessing you helped Bruce?"
Damian lifted his chin. "I don't wish to spoil the surprise."
"For my own safety, I am so not eating that," Red Hood muttered.
The duration in which the cakes baked didn't take too long, but then Bruce and Tim had to make and add the frosting, and by the time they were done, everyone seemed to be half asleep. Clearly, Dick, Damian, and Jason were the funny ones. Tim, too, but he was overdue for his usual coffee break.
"And your time is up!" Superman declared. Bruce and Tim seemed understandably exhausted. Bruce wiped a sheen of sweat on his forehead and Tim slumped onto his island.
"Tim, you're up first," Black Canary said. Everyone straightened up. Finally, it was time for the moment of truth.
Tim grudgingly got up and carried his cake to the judge's table. It was red velvet cake with vanilla frosting. Maybe his standards were low, but Dick thought that it honestly looked and smelled great. It wasn't perfect, judging by the way half the cake sloped to the side and the burnt edges of the cake stuck to the plate, but it was better than he expected it to turn out.
Red Hood looked around at the people surrounding him. "Sheesh. For once, no one has anything to say?"
"It looks amazing, Tim," Dick said vehemently, giving his little brother a strong thumbs up.
"I can't deny that," Bruce admitted, smiling proudly at Tim who responded with a timid smile of his own.
"Let's taste this bad boy," Red Hood said, grabbing the knife lying on the table and cutting into enough pieces for everyone to have a slice. He placed them the plates and passed them around while Black Canary passed out spoons.
Superman was the first to bite into his slice. He instantly beamed. "It's delicious!"
"Mmm," Red Hood moaned. "This is some good stuff right here, Timbo. I knew I made a good choice rooting for you."
Dick made a noise of pleasure the moment the cake touched his tongue. "Tim, this is, like, the best cake I've ever had!"
Tim's face was beginning to flush from all the compliments. Dick found it adorable, especially since the kid deserved all the love and more. "Oh, c'mon, don't exaggerate now," Tim said, rubbing his forearm.
Damian shook his head. "They're not exaggerating. I thought you'd mess this up somehow, but you didn't. I'm impressed."
Dick didn't even bother holding back the grin he felt form on his face from seeing Damian get along with Tim.
"It's going to be hard to top this, Bruce," Black Canary said. "Hopefully Damian did something to improve the flavor."
"Is it finally my turn?" Bruce asked. "I don't even care if my cake is good or bad. I just want to try Tim's."
"Yes, you can come here now."
Bruce brought over his cake, and shockingly, the presentation outdid Tim's. It was a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. No burnt corners and no uneven layers. It was a decent looking cake. Better than decent, really, if Dick was being fair. It looks moist and creamy and— oh man, he needed to try this.
"Father, I didn't know you had it in you to bake something that actually looks edible," Damian remarked.
"No, because this actually looks really good," Dick said, practically drooling on himself.
Superman helped cut the cake this time. Everyone got their plate and spoon.
Dick almost dig into the cake, only to falter when Damian discreetly put a hand on his arm to stop him. Suddenly, Dick remembered that Damian had added something to Bruce's batter and that alone was reason for suspicion. Dick loved Damian, but the child could scarcely be trusted in times like these. Dick, Damian, and Jason shared a knowing look. Even with Jason's mask on, Dick could read his expression.
It's sabotaged.
Black Canary and Superman didn't seem to notice that no one else was eating it. They took a bite and chewed softly. It took a moment for any expression to form on their face, but once the taste finally settled on their tongue and the realization hit, it was impossible to look away.
Superman went wide-eyed and stuck his tongue out like a thirsty dog while Black Canary abruptly stood up, toppling her chair over as she breathed heavily.
They both snapped their heads towards Damian, fury radiating off them.
"What did you do?" they barked as they started fidgeting and sweating. Black Canary used her hand as a fan, while her eyes began to redden and water.
"Oh, Damian," Bruce groaned, realizing what Damian had done. He sprinted towards the refrigerator. Red Hood cackled.
A normal person would have trembled if Superman and Black Canary yelled at them with such wrath, but Damian just took another bite out of Tim's cake, taking his sweet time like he wasn't about to be strangled by two very powerful members of the justice league.
"I was told I could sabotage my opponent," Damian stated. "So that's what I did. I added the spiciest hot sauce we had to father's batter."
Bruce quickly handed each of the two heroes a glass of milk. Superman and Black Canary snatched it and gulped it down in seconds. They stood there heaving, but it seemed to help.
"I'm surprised you actually helped me," Tim pointed out to Damian.
Damian seemed flustered by the comment. "Well, I did throw a piece of bread into your mouth mid-sentence, so I suppose this way we'd be even now. Father, I hope you're not too upset."
Bruce offered his son a tired smile. "I'm not, don't worry. But the people you owe an apology to is standing right there." He gestured to the two justice leaguers before finally tasting Tim's cake.
A disheveled Superman and Black Canary waited with crossed arms.
Damian sighed, his words more reluctant than genuine. "I suppose I was inconsiderate towards you. My apologies."
It wasn't a great apology, but it was good enough for the judges. They released some tension in their stance and softened the anger in their eyes.
"Well, I think we can all agree that Tim Drake deserves the win, correct?" Black Canary said, her voice a bit weak from the hot sauce. Everyone voiced their agreement.
Superman reached down and grabbed a golden trophy with a chef's hat on it. "Then I award you this, Tim—" he said, handing the trophy to the teenager. There was a newfound atmosphere of pride and happiness in the room that made Dick feel a sense of fulfillment in his heart. He was glad his family could share this moment together. "—for being the best chef in your family and winning the first episode of Super Chefs."
Dick, Damian, and Jason stilled. Then burst into objection.
"Now hold on a second—"
"The best? Please!"
"He technically only won by default—"
Laughter caused them to freeze, and they looked the source: Tim. He was doubling forward, clutching a hand to his stomach. He wiped an eye that was beginning to tear up and looked at his family with a toothy grin.
"I agree. I'm not the best chef. I only won the competition because everyone played a part in screwing up so hard that I ending up being the only person left. And I'm okay with that. This isn't my trophy. It's all of ours."
"Aw, Timmy," Dick cooed. "I love you."
He pulled Tim in for a hug. He felt Damian wrap his arms around his waist, and then Bruce over all of them. Even Jason joined the group hug, and with that, everything felt perfect. He could—
"Hey, Red Hood," Superman interrupted awkwardly. "This seems like a family hug. If you know what I'm saying."
Right. They were on TV. And Red Hood wasn't supposed to be a part of the Wayne family.
But Dick didn't care. He wanted to enjoy this.
Jason began to move away, so Dick gripped onto part of his leather jacket and held him in place. "Nuh-uh," Dick said, his voice a bit muffled from all the people on him. "You're staying right here, mister. Supes, Canary. You're welcome to join us."
There was a pause, and then Dick heard Superman say, "aw, shucks. Why not."
Dick giggled as he felt two more people join the hug. They stayed that way a while, until Bruce cut through the silence and said, "Alfred is actually the best chef in the family."
They all murmured in total agreement.
__________
"How do you feel about your family's display of their cooking skills today?" A man's voice questioned.
Alfred let out a small sigh, but his smile never faltered. "I feel quite embarrassed that they horsed around so much, but I am not surprised about the way their meals turned out. Master Damian pleased me the most, while Bruce concerned me the most. Sometimes I can't believe that he and Master Bruce are truly biologically related."
_________
"Yeah," Dick said to the camera. "Alfred is the glue in this household. Without him, we'd be pretty doomed. We'd starve to death, for sure. Or at least die of food poisoning."
________
The credits played, and Barbara sat there with her eyes feeling heavy. How long had she been watching the TV?
She looked at the clock. It read 2:15. She'd been in Jason's room for almost two hours!
Before the credits ended, the last thing Barbara saw on the screen was a replay of a moment that happened earlier where Black Canary muttered, "when this is over, I'm running away in the furthest direction from this manor and never looking back."
Barbara felt just about the same way. She shut off the TV.
__________
"So Super Chefs was . . . something," Green Arrow mentioned. "Sorry that I couldn't be there."
"Oh it was something, all right," Black Canary said. "But it's fine. You'll be there next time, right?"
"Yeah, yeah. Of course."
"Good," Black Canary said, her voice like low and silky. The corners of her lips quirked upwards. "Because next episode will be staring Oliver Queen's family."
Green Arrow's jaw went slack. "Hold up, Dinah. I didn't sign up for this."
"You just agreed to it."
"Yeah, but I didn't know that you meant—"
Black Canary had already begun to quickly sneak away.
"Dinah, wait!" Green Arrow called out, breaking into a sprint to run after her.
Black Canary chuckled to herself as she let Green Arrow chase her. He'd give in eventually. She'd make sure of it. The billionaire playboys in the Justice League needed to be humbled, after all.