Chapter Text
Perfection. That was the first thing he thought when he witnessed Alfred bake for the first time. No movements were wasted while he carefully utilized every ingredient that he prepared. It was truly astonishing. It was not his intention to stare for too long, yet he could not tear his eyes away from the quick-moving hands of the butler.
It hadn’t been long since Damian came to the mansion and was shoved into this “patchwork” family, as the Americans called it. But he had yet to fully establish proper relationships with every member of the family. It proved to be rather difficult. Damian did not know how to communicate with them. Of course, he had no trouble speaking to them on mission-related things, but he found the small talk and building up connections rather infuriating. Whenever he would want to carefully integrate himself into a conversation, it would be about trifle everyday matters he knew nothing of. So, at some point, he just gave up. What point did it make after all? Did he perhaps want to spend time with his newly gained family? Maybe… But he couldn’t let anyone know that. He had an image to maintain after all. One that he was very proud of. In the beginning, but now he was considering just shoving it out the window.
He also wanted to converse with the others and laugh together. So, when he saw Alfred’s baking’s impact on the others, he had to try it! Alfred’s baked goods always seemed to lighten the mood, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. At first, he even questioned if there was any magic embedded in them, but he ruled that out fairly quickly. Alfred was just remarkably good at what he did, and he respected that. So, he was determined to learn the craft himself in hope that he could also place a smile on his family members. If he could not make them happy by sharing isle conversations, he could at least do so by baking them delicious things!
He had to be sneaky about it. Now that would seem easy to some people but not to Damian who resided in a house where multiple trained vigilantes lived that were suspicious of everything. So, he had to be very careful. Every step had to be planned meticulously. Mistakes would not be accepted. So, he chose something easy for his first work, like Alfred’s chocolate chip cookies. He waited for a massive gala to be held. To uphold their civilian identities, everyone usually had to attend. Everyone, except for Damian. At the last gala, some people had snarky remarks about his skin color and Grayson decided that maybe it would be better if he’d attend fewer parties from now on. Damian, of course, happily agreed. He could not stand to be around those ingrates and now he even had a special use for the time he had alone in the manor. So, in a way, he was kind of thankful to those mindless cretins.
First, he checked the whole mansion if he was alone, checking if not Tim had perhaps snuck away, but everybody had left home. Now he could finally start. He took out three different-sized bowls, a few measuring cups, and all the ingredients he would need. He carefully mixed everything and started kneading the dough. Then he separated the dough and rolled the pieces into little balls. Now the only step left was to put them into the oven. He opened the lid and put the cookies inside.
When looking at the counter he finally realized what a mess he had made. Flour was spread all over the counter and littler leftovers were laid all around. Even worse were all the compartments that were still stained with all sorts of things. He definitely could not leave the kitchen looking like this, so he quickly got to work. He hadn’t expected baking to be so… difficult. There were so many steps to consider; if one ingredient was prepared wrong, the whole flavor could change. And if left too long in the oven all his hard work could be ruined in an instant. So, he constantly observed the little egg-shaped timer in the corner of his eye to not miss its ringing.
The cookies were finally done, and he took them out of the oven and carefully placed them on a tray. Now the only thing left to do was decide on his first victim. Most of his family was still at the gala, and he didn’t know when they would return. But these cookies were his first ever work and he did not know if they were good enough for his family’s standards. So, he decided to proceed with a different approach. He looked at the clock. 4:38 AM. Good, everything worked out for him.
His first target would be his second older brother, Jason. It was the perfect plan. Jason was the only other person exempt from the rule of attending parties. Officially he was dead so of course, he could not simply show up. So, on nights like these, he usually covered Gotham with a few others. He usually returned around 5 AM and there was no one in the family who loved Alfred’s cookies as much as Jason. He was the perfect target.
Damian prepared a tray of cookies in the Batcave, knowing that Jason was about to return. As on cue, one could hear Jason’s motorbike coming in through one of the tunnels that connected to the cave. Damian rushed into a hideout he prepared. In this place, he could soon see Jason’s expression and know if he succeeded or not.
When Jason arrived, he strode over to the computer to log everything in that happened that night. It was a relatively quiet night, with only two robberies and a mugging. So, he wanted to wrap everything in the cave up quickly. He would not spend any more time in that place than he had to. That was until he saw those sweet, sweet chocolate chip cookies! He would not leave until that whole tray was empty.
As Jason approached the tray Damian started to feel nervous. What if he had made a foolish mistake while preparing the dough? Or had placed them too long into the oven?! Maybe he should just throw a Batarang at the cookies and destroy the evidence! But at that point, it was already too late. Jason had already scooped up one of the cookies and started eating. Damian held his breath in fear that he would cry out if Jason would be dissatisfied. But, to his surprise, Jason happily ate one cookie after another with a smile on his face.
Damian stared contently as Jason kept eating the cookies. He did not know that he could feel such joy from simply baking something for someone else. The relief washed over him, and he could not prevent a sigh from escaping him. He noticed that Jason picked up on the sound and he quickly ran back upstairs. He considered today a victory, though nobody knew that he was the one that made the cookies. He was just happy that he was able to make Jason smile. So as he lay down in his bed he wondered what he should bake next.