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The kitchen was all quiet, curtains drifting with the slight breeze that came through the window. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and all was-
“I SHALL RECEIVE THE FIRST PLATE!”
And suddenly the kitchen was lit up in an uproar as five people scampered in, all pushing each other and chattering up a storm.
“No way! Jason, you can’t let him!” Dick protested.
It was a rare day when all of the kids were in the manor and Alfred was out. Thus, naturally, it came to Jason to cook today’s dinner.
To be honest, Jason wasn’t particularly up to cook today. He had woken up this morning with a fever. That was no condition to work in, so Jason carried himself over to the manor for a break. He didn’t expect the family to be even more tiring.
… Actually, he should have expected this. It was probably just wishful thinking to hope that he would get some peace with these people.
Damian puffed out his little chest. “It is my right! Why should any of the others receive it?”
“Does it even matter?” Tim said, tiring. He hobbled into the room last, bags under his eyes. He made a beeline to the coffee machine. “All the servings will be the same.”
“It is the honor that counts!” Damian argued. Dick nodded his head in agreement.
Jason sighed and decided to ignore them. He grabbed a pan and a cutting board absentmindedly, still listening to them bicker.
Tim pushed past Jason quite rudely to grab some sugar from a cabinet. “You’re not even Jason’s favorite sibling.”
Dick muttered “wow” while Damian’s eyebrow twitched. “What does that have to do with anything?” he demanded.
“Well, you’d think the chef gets the right to choose who gets the food first,” Tim said, returning back to the coffeemaker and bumping against Jason again .
Jason reached up to grab some carrots. “Actually,” he said. “I’d give it to Cass.”
The boys turned to Cass, who had been sitting silently on top of the counter this entire time. She perked up. “Yay!” she said.
Damian grumbled something under his breath, but Dick shrugged and said something along the lines of “fair enough.” Tim just quietly sipped on his newly made coffee.
Finally, peace and quiet! Now Jason’s head could stop hurting and he could focus on cook-
“Drake!” Damian said sharply. “What did you do with Titus’ food?”
Jason spared a glance at him as he cut the carrots. Damian was crouched over the pet bowls, examining the contents within.
“What?” Tim said, whipping around. “Nothing!”
“It’s gone!”
“Well, maybe he ate it?” Tim said. “Like he’s supposed to? What are you worrying about me for?”
“He wouldn’t have finished it so fast!” Damian complained. “I know his eating patterns!”
“What am I supposed to do with dog food?” Tim said incredulously.
Damian huffed. “The inner works of your mind are a great mystery to me, Drake. It is heavily difficult to understand you.”
Tim opened his mouth for a retort. But then Jason’s hand shook and slammed into his finger instead of the carrot. Jason cursed quite loudly.
The kids looked at him. “You okay?” Dick asked.
Jason examined the wound. It was relatively small. But a good chunk of blood had gotten on the carrots. A shame. “Yeah, I’m fine.” His head started burning again, but he pretended not to feel it. If he could gaslight himself into thinking that he was fine, he would be fine.
The monkeys turned back to each other. They continued to bicker as he ran the wound over once in the sink and continued his work. Jason cut more veggies and tossed them into the pan. It was a routine he was very familiar with and managed well, even if he felt like collapsing.
He didn’t sign up for this! He just wanted to treat himself and taste Alfred’s cooking to feel better. How was he supposed to know this would be the one day Alfred wasn’t available?
It was funnier the more he thought of it. If he had never gotten a fever in the first place, he wouldn’t have come here. And if he never had come here, he wouldn’t be forced to cook with said fever.
“... hot…”
Speaking of that fever, Jason should really lie down after this. He didn’t think he could keep standing like this for any longer.
“He’s… burning…”
Sweat was forming on his forehead. That wasn’t good. Now he really had to lie down.
“Jason!”
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Jason stopped moving. “Huh?”
“You’re burning up!” Cass cried.
“Yeah, you think?” Jason snapped, harsher than intended. Cass blinked in surprise.
“No,” Cass said, slower this time. “You’re burning! Literally!”
Jason looked down.
The pan was engulfed in fire. Jason quickly turned off the stove. His sleeves were smoldering slightly, but his hands did not… look pretty. He rushed to the sink and put his palms under the water, wincing.
Dick had gotten up and was now at Jason’s side, looking quite concerned. Tim and Damian had stopped arguing and were now looking at him like he were a talking alien mushroom. Cass grimaced, likely from the second-hand embarrassment.
Jason cringed. His head was enough—now the backs of his hands were also burning. He leaned over the counter, attempting to hide the cry of pain waiting to rush out of his very-manly-and-definitely-not-a-crybaby throat. So he opted for the option that was edgier.
“Fuck!” he shouted. “Fuck fuck fuck!”
There were children present, but Jason didn’t care. Damian could fuck himself for all he knew.
“He doesn’t look too good,” Tim said, stating the obvious.
Jason nearly snarled at him. “I swear, I’m usually better at this,” he spat. “It’s just been a tough day with you -”
Dick reached over to touch Jason’s forehead. Jason begrudgingly allowed this and tried to ignore how the action reminded him of the days where Bruce would tuck him in his bed with a hand on his forehead.
“You have a fever,” Dick said, eyes wide. “Jay-”
“Well,” Jason said, now twisting the spatula with his partially burnt hand. “You all would’ve starved without me.”
“Not true,” Tim said, crossing his arms. “Three of us know how to order a pizza.”
This was an obvious jab at one tiny green person, who glared at him in turn.
“I’ll finish it.” Dick made a motion for the sizzling pan. The vegetables were a bit charred, but looked decent otherwise.
Jason grabbed his brother’s wrist before he could make a mess of anything. Dick stopped and faced him. “ No .”
Dick looked distraught at the idea of not being able to help someone. “But-”
“I’m almost done, anyway.” Jason tipped the pieces of burnt vegetable onto five plates. Steam wafted up like a snake. Dick stood back, obvious in awe of Jason’s amazingness and perfection in the skill of cooking.
Alright, maybe Jason was overhyping himself. So he handed the first plate to Cass. By walking all around the table and making everyone think they were going to be chosen, of course. It was quickly his favorite way to mess with people.
His hands were shaking in effort as he attempted to shove a piece in his mouth. So, since he wasn’t particularly hungry, he set down his fork with a clank.
“I’m going to sleep,” he announced rather stupidly. He cradled his hand as he walked away.
His bedroom was quiet, barely touched nowadays, curtains drifting from the breeze from the opened window. And it was the place where Jason would get some nicely deserved rest.