Chapter Text
Dick’s phone buzzed on the armrest. He looked at it, then leaned over toward it and flipped it over to unlock it and read the incoming message. The loss of warmth from his left side was only a mild inconvenience, but Dick still found himself griping inwardly, a bit.
TD: [Hey.]
He frowned a little and picked the phone up off the armrest.
“Trouble?”
Dick smiled over at Wally. “Course not. Probably. They don’t usually start with a greeting if it’s an emergency.” Tim wasn’t the whole family, but it was a rule of thumb that usually held true with the Bats.
Wally shrugged, bemused smile fixed in place, and turned back to their movie.
Dick turned his own attention back to his phone.
Me: [whats up Babybird?]
TD: [Hypothetically.]
Dick made a face. Last time he’d gotten a “hypothetically” from Tim, it was a “hypothetical” about a stab wound. A very much not hypothetical stab wound that was a bit too close to an artery for anyone’s comfort.
Hypotheticals were very seldom actual hypotheticals in their family.
TD: [If I’m not headed to bed until two.]
TD: [Should I eat something?]
First, Dick forced himself to relax, knowing that the “hypothetical” didn’t include any injuries (and knowing that Wally could definitely feel him tense up – there was no point in making Wally worry over nothing). Then Dick glanced at the time at the top of his phone screen. Eleven-thirty. Not that it would affect his answer.
Me: [you know me dude. im always pro snack.]
TD: [Hm.]
Me: [hm?]
TD: [Yeah, “hm.”]
Dick sighed, shook his head fondly, then turned his phone over and curled back into Wally’s side. Platonically. Definitely a platonic cuddle. He was just about settled in, feet tucked up under himself and everything, when his phone buzzed with another incoming message.
Dick frowned.
“I could pause it,” Wally said. He motioned to the movie.
Dick glanced over. They were watching I, Robot (which should be required watching for anyone even remotely interested in sci-fi, robots, or good movies, in general; thanks for coming to my Ted Talk).
On screen, Sonny was proclaiming his innocence and about to lash out at Detective Spooner, denting the interrogation table. God, what a good movie, honestly. There was something about the investigation of personhood and autonomy of machines, and the underlying subtext questioning whether or not it was a good thing, that always got Dick. And it was just a really good piece of science fiction, in general.
“No, it’s fine,” Dick dropped his gaze from the screen, leaned away from Wally, again, and picked his phone up. He settled back against Wally, this time with his phone in hand. “I know what happens, anyway.”
He absently unlocked his phone again.
TD: [I found some chips.]
Me: [thats not very substantial]
TD: [Doritos.]
Me: [that doesnt make them more substantial Timbo.]
TD: [You’re one to talk.]
TD: [You usually gorge yourself on cereal if there’s no one around to make you eat something more substantial.]
Me: [ill have u know that i had a very rounded dinner tonight]
TD: [I doubt it.]
Me: [i also had a great lunch!]
TD: [Doubt.]
Me: [mango, rice cake n pb, n nuggies for lunch!]
Me: [n then tinfoil wrapped stew for dinner!]
Me: [so uno reverse]
TD: [Oh. Damn.]
Me: [damn straight. wbu?]
TD: [What about me?]
Me: [what did you eat today?]
TD: [I don’t know.]
Me: [???]
Me: [how do u not know?]
TD: [Uh. Peanut M&Ms?]
Me: [,,, that’s not food Timmy]
TD: [Sure it is.]
Dick sighed and sat up straighter, again.
“Problem, after all?”
Dick could hear the smile in Wally’s voice. “Tim didn’t eat, today,” he said. His frown deepened a bit. Tim’s eating habits were always mildly concerning, really, but he’d been doing a lot better, away at college and all. Or so Dick had thought.
“Oh, wow.” Wally probably couldn’t even imagine, speedster metabolism and all.
“Yeah,” Dick sighed. He unfolded himself and stood. “Want anything? I’m going to deal with this over—” he motioned to the kitchen area. “You know. Where it won’t be as distracting.”
“Popcorn?” Wally leaned back to look up at Dick, smiling.
“Sure,” Dick chuckled.
He re-unlocked his phone on his way over to the kitchen area.
TD: [But they have peanuts in them.]
TD: [Peanuts are a real food.]
Me: [Babybird,,,]
Me: [peanuts are a *snack*]
TD: [Oh.]
Me: [when was the last time you ate??]
TD: [Um.]
Me: [um???]
TD: [Yesterday, I guess.]
Me: [yestERDAY???]
Dick must have made a noise in his frustration, because Wally glanced back at him, then got up to wandered over. Which was the opposite of the point of taking his texting to the kitchen.
Not that that stopped Wally from walking over, wrapping his arms around Dick’s waist, and hooking his chin on Dick’s shoulder. “What’s the damage?” he asked.
“He hasn’t eaten since yesterday,” Dick ran a hand through his hair. Then did it again, shaking out the back and gnawing at the inside of his lip. He was getting awful close to his anxiety/frustration tic. “Oh my god,” he muttered.
TD: [Yeah. Lunch yesterday.]
TD: [Conner ordered pizza.]
Me: [you find something to eat right thsidsmjklv]
Me: [right this instant!]
TD: [But I don’t want to leave my room.]
Me: [TIM]
Me: [EAT SMTH]
TD: [Fine. I’ll go see if there’s anything to eat.]
Dick huffed and leaned back into Wally, who reflexively tightened his hold around Dick’s waist. It was nice. But still almost definitely platonic, which was kind of a shame. Dick brushed the last thought aside in favour of turning his attention back to Tim’s texts.
TD: [There’s nothing here.]
Me: [what do you mean there’s nothing there???]
TD: [?]
TD: [Just what I said?]
TD: [There’s nothing here.]
Me: [let’s videochat, you can show me!]
TD: [Ew, no thanks. I haven’t brushed my hair and I’m wearing laundry day stuff.]
Me: [???]
Me: [so?? im wearing a shirt from highschool and 80s gym shorts]
TD: [Oh. Ew. I don’t want to see that.]
“His loss,” Wally grinned.
“Are you reading my texts,” Dick tilted his phone toward his sternum and turned to give Wally a look, though it was halfhearted at best. Dick didn't actually care if Wally read his texts, which was a feeling that only applied to a small handful of people. Well, he didn’t mind most of the time. If it was texts about Wally? Well. Bets were off, then.
“Maybe,” Wally grinned back.
Dick rolled his eyes and turned away again before he could do something stupid and impulsive, like kiss Wally.
Me: [you guys’ve gotta have smth]
Me: [bread???]
TD: [Nothing.]
Me: [not even bread??? bread n butter???]
TD: [Just snacks.]
TD: [I guess I could make a bagel and cream cheese. I guess.]
Me: [yes!! good!!]
TD: [I don’t really want a bagel, though.]
Me: [but bagel n cream cheese is carb n protein!!]
TD: [Hm.]
Me: [how bout bread + pb? pbj? just j? lunch meat? cheese?]
TD: [I’ll do the bagel, I guess.]
Me: [!!]
Me: [yes!! proud!!]
TD: [Never mind. The bagel’s moldy.]
Me: [whattt?]
TD: [I’ll just eat tomorrow.]
Me: [what about a sammich or some fruit??]
TD: [Meh.]
Me: [plain oatmeal? granola? anything???]
TD: [It’s fine. I’ll just eat tomorrow.]
Dick huffed and smacked himself with the edge of his phone, then leaned it against his forehead, only just barely resisting the urge to throw the device.
“That bad, huh?”
Dick nodded against the phone. Then sighed. “I know it’s movie night...”
“Oh, dude,” Wally laughed and released his hold on Dick’s waist. “It’s fine. Go rescue your baby brother from the machinations of hunger and executive dysfunction, or whatever. I’ll hang out until you’re back.”
“It’ll be late,” Dick frowned and turned, leaning against the counter.
“Yeah? So? You’re worth the wait,” Wally shrugged. “Besides. I have tomorrow off. Who cares?”
“Jesus, just marry me already,” Dick laughed.
Wally shot him finger guns, then wandered over to the cabinet where Dick kept the microwavable popcorn. “Name the date and place,” he joked along.
Dick, meanwhile, allowed himself to have a tiny meltdown over having said that out loud.
--
About an hour and one grocery trip later (at about one in the morning), Dick managed to balance his groceries in one hand and pick the lock to Tim’s front door. It was a bit fiddly, but not impossible, and the lock was really shitty, besides.
Dick knew that Tim lived with three other people. He just didn’t care. Even if it would be extremely suspicious if any of them saw Dick literally breaking into their house.
Dick flicked on lights as he went. He’d only been there once or twice, when Tim was first moving in (and still had the whole place to himself), but he still knew the basics, like where the light switches were. He whistled in disappoint at the state of the kitchen. That is: the sheer emptiness of the kitchen. It looked like no one had touched the kitchen in the months that they’d lived there. Except maybe the oven, and that probably for fries, tots, nugs, and pizzas, only, knowing Tim’s friend group.
Luckily, Dick had thought ahead and bought a stainless steel skillet, set of wooden spoons, and a set of rectangular Pyrex baking dishes and storage tops. And whatever else piqued his fancy when he was in the cookware aisle.
He’d also had the forethought to throw a prechopped mirepoix mix and premade mashed potatoes into his cart, so that he wasn’t getting caught up in the details of peeling, cutting, and boiling potatoes (which was something he’d definitely done before).
Dick was still setting up in the kitchen when the first of Tim’s housemates showed up.
It was a tiny, bleary-eyed auburn kid that looked—familiar, actually.
“Oh, Bart!” Dick snapped his fingers. “Wally’s cousin!”
Bart peered at him for a very long moment, then wavered on the spot for a second. “Why are so much of your thighs showing? Aren’t you cold?” he asked.
“Hm?” Dick glanced down at his legs and eighties athletic shorts. “No, I’m fine,” he shrugged and grinned at Bart again, then turned back to the stovetop, where the mirepoix (onion, carrots, celery) and a bunch of minced garlic was in the pan with some olive oil, sauteed away noisily. He moved to grab the ground beef he’d put to one side.
Bart padded over to the fridge and pulled an Ultra Watermelon Monster from the door. Then, before the door was even closed on the fridge, Bart cracked the can open and chugged it. Dick glanced at him, then took a double-take and watched in silent horror as Bart finished the can off before the fridge door had fully closed.
“Kay, bye Wally’s Boyfriend,” Bart said. There was a lot more pep in his step when he walked back out of the kitchen.
Dick blinked a few times (he... wasn’t Wally’s boyfriend), then turned his attention back to the skillet and dumped the ground beef into it, along with salt, pepper, parsley, rosemary, thyme, and sage (fuck you, sage goes in everything). He stirred it absently, watching it brown. Then remembered that he needed to preheat the oven, set said oven to four hundred degrees, and opened the door to make sure nothing was in it. There was a leather jacket in there, so Dick pulled that out and... tried not to question it too much.
Once the jacket was tossed over a chair, Dick returned to his beef mixture, to which he added a frozen veggie mix (corn, peas, green beans) and canned tomato paste, stirred until the frozen veggies were no longer frozen and the paste was incorporated, then added a few eyeballed tablespoons of flour, stirred again, and finally: chicken stock (and the Worcestershire sauce he’d forgotten, a bit earlier).
Okay, look, his steps for shepherd’s pie were maybe a bit out of order, but it worked for him.
(A blond girl meandered into the kitchen, most likely Cassie, looked around, then walked back out.)
He left the meat mixture on the stove and opened the premade mashed potatoes, plopped them into one of the Pyrex baking dishes, and shoved that in the microwave. He heated it, pulled it out, swore (because he burnt himself on the Pyrex), and salt, pepper, butter, and sour cream, which he proceeded to beat into submission.
After the potatoes submitted to the wrath of one flippy boy (the flippy boy being Dick), Dick turned his attention back to the filling and the other Pyrex baking dish.
While Dick was dumping the filling into the Pyrex container, the third member of the household (not including Tim) wandered out of his room and into the kitchen. Dick glanced at him, grinned, and offered a, “Sup!” before turning back to his self-appointed task, which moved onto putting the mashed potatoes on top of the filling.
“Uh, sup. Who’re you?”
“Dick.”
“Right...okay. Tim!” the guy wandered back away.
Tim came skidding into the kitchen a few minutes later. “Dick! What are you doing here?!”
“Cooking!” Dick shut the oven door, Pyrex dish of shepherd’s pie nestled inside. He moved to the microwave and started a timer for half an hour.
“Why aren’t you wearing pants?!”
Dick turned to Tim, about to respond, then took a doubletake, looking Tim up and down. “Is that Superboy’s shirt?”
Tim glanced down at himself, “...no?” It was an obvious lie.
Dick, being a trained detective, immediately realized why Conner was familiar. “Oh my god.”
“Whatever you’re thinking it’s not correct!”
“Oh my god!”
“Dick, I’m begging you...!”
--
Having seen literally every member of Tim’s household awake already, Dick made it his mission to wrangle them all into eating with Tim, at the disused dinner table. Having Tim and Conner sitting side-by-side, though, told Dick that Tim was actively wearing Conner’s shirt, because Conner was not actually wearing a shirt.
One awkward “family” dinner later and Dick was bidding them all goodbye, around two-thirty, and on his way home. He left them with the leftovers and newly-purchased spices and cooking implements, though.
Then he told Tim to “be safe,” to Tim’s horror and offense, and he left.
--
When Dick got back to his own apartment, it was three-thirty in the morning. Wally was passed out on the couch and about an hour into Terminator 2: Judgement Day. But he was still there, and had apparently spent the last three and a half or so hours watching Terminator and Terminator 2, after I, Robot had finished.
Dick closed the door behind him, which startled Wally awake.
“Oh, hey, welcome back, missed you,” Wally mumbled. He yawned and rubbed his eye.
Dick felt his heart jump into his throat. He smiled, soft and smitten. “Hey,” he returned.
“C’mere, let’s watch the rest of, um...” Wally motioned at the television, then glanced over at it. “Oh, Terminator 2.” He grinned back at Dick.
“Okay,” Dick said. He walked up to the back of the couch and hopped over, landing next to Wally, who immediately put an arm around him and pulled him in for a cuddle. Completely platonic, of course. Though... it was nice.