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Once, after a long stakeout, Jason thought it would be a good idea to wake up before everyone else and make some, in his words, “awesomely homemade pancakes made by the coolest Robin.”.
His efforts to be as quiet as possible were in vain. Soon, the smell of burnt batter and chocolate chips would wake up anyone asleep in the manor, including Ace, the household’s dog. It was admittedly hard for a 10-year-old boy to make pancakes when a huge, 35 kg Bathound was bouncing around the kitchen trying to nab any chips that were unlucky enough to fall onto the floor.
Alfred was quickly awoken by the smell (and noise) coming from the kitchen, so he might have been the only reason the house hadn’t burned down that day. He helped the Boy Wonder, albeit dressed in his bat pajamas, and everyone had managed to have a pleasant breakfast together before being forced to retreat back into the Batcave for an emergency mission from the Justice League.
Nightwing had stood on Bruce’s right side, he recalled, whilst the younger, more energetic sidekick was on the left, bouncing around on the cold, stone floor as if he were already out on the streets of Gotham and fighting bad guys. He kept begrudgingly reminding him to change out of his PJs and into his suit while Batman leered over the keypad, not bothering to interfere with his son’s squabbles.
Jason was eager and brighteyed—it reminded Nightwing of the days when it was just him and Bruce. He could see a bit of himself in him now, pestering the Dark Knight for answers related to his mission: if he could come along, or how long he would be gone for, and why he wasn’t allowed to attend missions sent by the Justice League too, or why Superman would cringe and make funny faces every time he asked to come along.
Dick desperately tried to calm him down back then. He told him to wipe the chocolate chips off his face, since it’d mess up his suit, and god forbid Jason messed up the Nightwings old Robin costume. He was still angry at Bruce for just giving it away like that. That suit was sacred! He had worn it to countless missions, made hundreds if not thousands of memories with it, and Bat—
“Wait!! I want to come too!!!”
His train of thought was cut off by the shrill shriek of the new Boy Wonder, who was now being dragged along the ground with a death grip on the edge of Batman’s cape. He writhed and screamed and begged for him not to go, but the Dark Knight was as usually phased as he always was—not at all.
Jason’s tantrums were a regular occurrence, especially in the early days, and they had all learned to deal with it over time, but it still got to Nightwing’s nerves whenever he had them.
Dick glided over to where Jason was sitting, pouting stubbornly where Bruce had disappeared. He lowered himself to a squat, resting a hand gingerly on the boy’s shoulders. “You know how it is. He’ll be back soon. We could go enjoy some more of your pancakes while we wait.”
And Jason had agreed. So they ate some pancakes.
Nightwing hasn’t had pancakes in a long time.