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Seasons of Drabbles - Summer Round 2023
Stats:
Published:
2023-08-05
Completed:
2023-08-05
Words:
1,800
Chapters:
6/6
Comments:
85
Kudos:
523
Bookmarks:
97
Hits:
2,594

Easy as Pie

Summary:

Five times Jason baked something for or with his siblings, and one time they baked for him. A drabble sequence of triple drabbles written for the Seasons of Drabbles Summer 2023 challenge exchange.

Notes:

Inspired by the prompt, "Jason baked with a sibling"

Chapter 1: Homemade

Chapter Text

"Really? This is what you're calling in the favor for?" Jason asked.

Tim's laser-focused, sleep-deprived eyes were a little scary. "You said, at Thanksgiving," Tim said, "that our pie was an abomination--"

"'Cause it was."

"--that surpassed human understanding. You claimed you could do better--"

"Hard to do worse, so yeah," Jason said, even if he had the feeling that running his mouth wasn't going to help him here.

"So yes, I am calling in the favor. I need a pie for my team's New Year party, the internet is failing me catastrophically, and–"

"You can’t just buy one?" Jason asked.

Tim’s eyes went flat and expressionless. “I am on a team with the grandson of Martha Kent,” he said, low and calm. “You know this, yet you suggest a store-bought pie to me.”

"Ohhh-kay," Jason said, holding his hands up. (In the early days after his return, when people had said, "oh, B didn't have a choice except to make Tim Robin," Jason had been skeptical. With time, Jason had become … less skeptical. Kid could be weirdly intimidating.)

"I am bringing a pie to this party," Tim said, hands on his hips, thankfully back to a normal volume. "A good enough pie that it will not puncture the myth that Bats and Robins can do anything we choose to do to acceptably high standards, and since you owe me a favor, you are helping me fix this pie."

"Oh, well, if the Robin reputation's on the line," Jason said, rolling his eyes, but also kind of meaning it. "Fine! I'm in! But that--" He gestured at the pie in progress. At least Tim had been sensible, texting Jason to come over before he put it in the oven.

Tim deflated abruptly.

"Oh yeah," Jason confirmed. "We're starting from scratch."

Chapter 2: 3.1416 etc.

Chapter Text

The clatter in his kitchen jolted Jason awake, but the noise resolved quickly enough into Steph's voice, with a quieter murmur that was probably Cass.

"Fuck no," Jason mumbled into his pillow, which meant he didn't have to say it again when Steph hollered, "Rise and shine, sleepy-hood!"

He stayed in bed. A man could hope.

And have his hopes defeated, with the arrival of footsteps, and dual tugs at his legs, pulling him off the bed. Jason clung to his mattress and said, "Go the fuck away."

"Don't you know what today is?" Steph demanded.

"If I sleep long enough," Jason grumbled,"then it'll be the Ides of March, and I can celebrate by stabbing you."

"Oh, shut your pie hole," Steph said. Her voice had the same gleeful intonation as Dick's did when he'd made a pun; neither of them could ever resist emphasizing their wordplay.

"That,” Cass added helpfully, “was a clue.”

"Fuck," Jason said, giving in and rolling over to sit up. “Fine. It's pi day. What, you wanted some and decided to drag me into it?"

"You know baking," Cass said simply. "And we want good pies."

Steph said, "We brought stuff to make French silk and lemon meringue."

Jason's nose wrinkled. "That shit's too sweet. Count me out."

The girls just looked at him hopefully. Fuck. People thought Dick was the cruise director of the family, justifiably so, but Steph was an equal instigator, and relentless when it came to giving Cass new experiences.

(Jason might, secretly, be a little pleased to be the one sought out this time -- just him, not all the family.)

"How about key lime instead of lemon meringue?" he bargained.

"Deal," Cass nodded.

"Perfect. Pie-fect, even," Steph said, grinning.

The horror. “Shut,” Jason said, grinning himself, "your pie hole."

Chapter 3: Savory (Savoring)

Chapter Text

Jason slid through the window, saying, “I need a bolthole for a couple hours, that cool?"

He expected big brotherly exasperation (what have you gotten yourself into?) or delight (movie marathon!) What he got was Dick turning around from his kitchen counter with a quieter-than-usual, “Of course.” The welcoming smile seemed real, not wide and fake, but unusually reserved.

Jason surveyed Dick and the ingredients behind him: crescent rolls, onion, ground beef, spices, mushrooms. Through some intuitive, blessed thread of restraint, Jason didn't blurt, Fuck, you're trying to cook?, but offered, "You making something? Want help?"

"Meat pies. Sure."

Jason went over to wash his hands, purposefully not looking too closely at the handwritten, well-worn recipe card. Not Dick's handwriting. He refrained, too, from saying that he could make real pie crust from scratch if Dick wanted, instead of using crescent rolls.

Jason made himself store-brand mac and cheese sometimes, for the taste, for the memories.

For all the family’s mockery, Dick could cook when he paid attention, though he usually relied on simple one-pot recipes. He was concentrating now. They worked mostly in silence, and Jason didn't pry: whose recipe this had been, whether this was a meaningful date or Dick had just woken up missing someone.

Dick relaxed and got chattier when the pies were safely in the oven, and made a happy humming noise when they came out, golden brown and rich smelling.

"Fuck!" Jason said as the first hasty bite burned the roof of his mouth, then froze guiltily. “Sorry.”

But Dick was belly laughing. "No, burning yourself and cursing about it is, like, tradition with these.”

Jason took a second, more careful, bite, and hummed happily himself. "Worth it. Hey. Thanks for letting me stay."

"Course," Dick said, knocking shoulders with him. "Glad to share."

Chapter 4: Sweet As Pie

Chapter Text

Mornings sucked, but Jason carved out a few summer Saturdays to go with Alfred to the Farmers Market.

When Jason had been young, they'd gone most weeks. It'd been their time, while Bruce slept the morning away; they’d make the rounds of vendors, and then come back to a muzzy-headed, scruffy Bruce, and have fresh omelets for brunch.

It was still their time. The peaches this week were amazing, and (after discreetly checking for poison; the cherries last summer that had seemed too good to be true, had been) Jason stocked up. Back at the manor, he said to Duke, up and eating cereal, "Want one? I bought a ton," and handed one over.

"Looks great, thanks," Duke said. “Uh...really great. You sure--"

Jason tossed over another poison-testing strip, just to be safe.

"Peach pies might be in order for tonight's dessert," Alfred mused. "Would you by chance be free to stay and help?"

And yeah, fine. Good, even.

"You mind if I hang around and bake with you guys?" Duke asked Jason softly when Alfred was in the pantry. "I don't want to crash your Alfred time."

Duke's thoughtfulness made it easy to say, "It's cool, stick around. You bake?"

Duke shook his head. "Bits and pieces, helping my mom. Not start to finish."

The three of them settled into it. Alfred's quiet instructions were familiar. Sometimes it seemed like he was leaving a space for Jason to talk, and pass their shared knowledge along.

It was nice, that was all, Jason thought in the back of his mind, while they chopped and joked and talked. A nice summer day, with happy memories of other ones, and the knowledge that this would someday be one of them: hanging out with his gramps and his brother, making something good.

Chapter 5: Pie in the Sky

Chapter Text

"I require," Damian said, setting down grocery bags on Jason’s countertops, "a tutor in the art of baking."

Jason raised his eyebrows, baffled. Damian apparently took confusion as correction and revised, “... I request a baking tutor. …Please."

"....okay?" Jason said. "There a school bake sale or something?"

Damian looked disparaging. Fair. Gotham Prep tended towards silent auction fundraisers where people bid for time with private chefs. "Baking is evidently," Damian sniffed, "a component of the Bat skill set. I have brought ingredients for an apple-cinnamon pie that promises to be less cloyingly sweet than many American concoctions, in order to learn."

Huh. Translated from Damianese: Damian had heard about some of Jason's various pie-baking afternoons with their siblings, and had gotten...jealous? Maybe? Of Jason's time?

"Sure," Jason shrugged, mildly flattered. "Let's do this."

It wasn't hard. Damian picked things up quickly when motivated, plus it wasn't like the kid didn't already have decent knife skills.

(It was weird, because Jason could almost see the shadow of another, darker universe overlaying this one, where Damian would only have learned cooking in order to know when best to slip the poison in, where Jason could only have tutored him in causing mortal harm. Sometimes Jason disagreed with the limitations that Bruce’s idealism put on all their methods. But sometimes…sometimes Jason was grateful for this gentler universe, and that Talia had sent Damian to follow Bruce’s path.)

"And now we wait," Damian said, when the pie went in the oven.

"Now we clean," Jason corrected. Damian's face pinched, maybe princely haughtiness but probably any kid's reaction to dishes. "Bats see a task through," Jason teased loftily, and Damian scowled but went to the sink without complaining.

Jason thought, Proud of you, but just said, “It’ll go fast, with both of us.”

Chapter 6: A La Mode (assuming the ice cream lasts that long)

Chapter Text

When Jason texted My second death will be from boredom to the chat, he expected some response.

Nothing.

Jason was injured, sidelined, housebound, and they were ignoring him? Jerks. (He grudgingly exempted Dick; Dick never dealt well with the death jokes.) He tried, Boooooooooored.

Nada.

He was still sulking when two intruders broke in forty-five minutes later. “We brought stuff for pie,” Tim said. “Blueberry.”

“You direct, we do the work,” Steph said brightly.

The pie was just starting to cool when Cass, Duke, and Damian piled in, Duke and Damian carrying...pie tins? After a beat of evaluation, everyone began to bristle competitively. Shit. "Great minds think alike, huh?" Duke said, playing peacemaker. "We’ve got pecan and apple."

"Yes. Two pies," Damian said pointedly.

"Our pie served as a boredom-relieving activity," Tim snapped.

"Ours were baked with Alfred's help and love," Cass countered.

Jason usually egged on his siblings’ rumbles; usually, his own furniture wasn’t at stake. He thought briefly, longingly, of solitude. Fortunately, Dick’s arrival interrupted the standoff.

"What kind of pie did you bring?" Steph demanded.

"...none? What?”

A closing of ranks. "You brought no food offering?" Damian said scornfully.

“We all brought pies,” Duke said.

Dick said, "...I brought ice cream?"

That had a cooling effect. “Ice cream!” Steph cheered, and Tim decreed, “Acceptable, contingent on flavors.”

“Okay! The pies still need to cool for a couple hours, so put it in the freezer,” Jason said, “And we can--” He stalled. Card games: fuck no. Movies? Chancy. Furniture risk: high.

Dick said, "Or...ice cream now, more later?"

Which was how Jason found himself on his couch, surrounded by bickering siblings. Cass poked his face. “Not bored. Happy.”

“Cass!” Jason protested, scandalized.

“Shhh,” she said. “Eat your ice cream.”

Jason shushed and ate his ice cream.