Work Text:
The manor's kitchen is pure controlled chaos.
Dick is at the stove attempting pancakes - keyword, attempting. Damian stands nearby, arms crossed, delivering critiques of Dick's pancake-flipping form. Tim has claimed the coffee maker entirely, already nursing a large mug and glaring at anyone who approaches like a feral animal defending its territory. Steph and Cass are locked in a silent, highly competitive war over the last blueberry muffin - neither willing to break first.
You're at the island with a mug, Duke beside you, the two of you occasionally sliding ingredients into Dick's reach or deflating Damian's sharper comments with dry one-liners that earn quiet snorts from Steph. Jason arrives late, as usual, steals a pancake straight from Dick's plate, and drops into the empty seat beside you like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Soft light filters through the windows. Conversations overlap and tangle. A brief flour fight breaks out between Dick and Steph and ends in laughter, and then, when Alfred appears in the doorway with one raised eyebrow, the entire table freezes mid-motion. Then the apologies start, followed by fresh coffee and a collective attempt to look innocent.
Based on Alfred's unimpressed expression, it wasn't successful.