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Part 11 of Lost Where the Cookies Are Schway
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Published:
2015-05-25
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718
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1/1
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Not All Fun and Games

Summary:

Dick and Barbara's discussion gets off to a good start. Terry and the others not so much.

Notes:

It was hard to find a good way to continue this and to end it, and I'm just trying to make it so I get some small updates out, since it's been hard to write lately.

So it's short, but it's kind of fun.

Work Text:


“I left the kids playing a board game. Here's hoping they don't burn the house down while I'm gone,” Dick said, setting his keys down on the counter. He wasn't sure he wanted to take his jacket off or make any real attempt to get comfortable, even if Babs did seem to be expecting him, since her defenses weren't at their usual level.

“They're in Alfred's hands. They should be safe enough.”

“Even Alfred has limits,” Dick said, and Babs turned around, miming shock at his words. He smiled. “I know, I know. Blasphemy, right? Still, I look at him sometimes and I remember being a kid around him and I see him hurting because Bruce is gone and I can't help knowing that he won't be around forever.”

“Don't go borrowing trouble,” she advised. “If we're lucky, we'll have Alfred around for a good, long time, and I don't really want to think about losing him or anyone else.”

Dick nodded. He didn't, either, though it was hard not to think about it in their line of work. They did what they could to avoid it and keep everyone safe, but that didn't always work. He looked over behind her. “What is all that? You know Alfred does feed us, right?”

She smiled. “Yes, I know. I just figured we may as well combine this talk with a meal. And I also know that you still consider cereal a full meal even if Alfred is cooking for you, so I'm going to make sure you eat.”

“Okay,” Dick agreed, shrugging. He didn't see anything wrong with cereal or know why she was suddenly so interested in his eating habits, but he would eat whatever she made so this was fine. “Have you heard from the Justice League? I've been pretty distracted. I know I need to get Terry home, but I haven't tried to talk to anyone since... Well, I lost track.”

“I'm not surprised,” she said. “Make yourself useful and get the table ready for us.”


“Ha! I win again,” Stephanie announced, and Terry shook his head. He didn't know what it said that Batgirl was as good as she was at making sure Doctor Lucky died. Damian would have said that he should have won because he was an assassin, but Stephanie must have played this game a lot. She was just too good at it.

“Your victory is trivial and meaningless,” the brat told her, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“You're just jealous because you know I could beat you at the whole cold case game, too.”

Terry frowned. “You know about that?”

Stephanie smiled. “Everyone knows about that. Well, okay, maybe not everyone, but Oracle is like my B.F.F, and that means I know. I said I should take a case of my own and show you both up, but Tim said I was just being petty and Dick said he didn't want it to be a competition and Babs said that there was too much testosterone going around anyway and—”

“You talk a lot.”

She blushed. “Well, I... I guess I do. I have this thing with inner voice and outer voice and tend to say whatever I'm thinking and I don't even know that I'm thinking it until I say it and sometimes not even then.”

“You don't think,” Damian told her, and she glared at him. Terry looked up just as Alfred set down a plate of cookies in front of everyone. Man, he had good timing. Again.

Stephanie took a cookie from the plate. “You are a sore loser, Damian, and you always will be, whereas people actually like me and don't put up with me just because Bruce was my father—which is really the only reason anyone tolerates you.”

“That just shows how ignorant you are. I don't need anyone to like me.”

“That's good because no one does.”

“Okay, time out,” Terry said, wincing when he heard himself sounding like one of his parents. “Let's all just eat our cookies and play another game. No need for this to get ugly.”

“Brown is here. It is already ugly.”

She lunged across the table at him, and Alfred sighed. “Perhaps I should call Master Kent.”

“Yeah,” Terry agreed. “We might need him.”

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