Cookies
“Thank you for playing with me today, Alfred,” I tell the man as he pulls my covers over my body. “Today was the most fun I've had in a long time,” I whisper, rolling over on my side and looking at him.
“Well, Master Peter, there will be plenty of days like this in your future. That's a promise.” He tucks me in one final time before pulling away. “Goodnight, M-.”
“Do you think Bruce will like the cookies we made?.” I interrupt him. My eyes closed, and I felt sleep pulling me in.
“Of course he will. I'll give them to him when he returns from patrol.” He answers.
“Good Night, Alfred.”
“Good Night, Master Peter.”
I didn’t have a good night. In fact, my night was restless. Waking up every few hours, my mind swirling with thoughts I’ve been trying to keep at bay. Aunt May kept running through his mind. Her smile, her laugh, her cries. Each one has its own torturous feelings. Mourning all the joy and pain.
I climb out of the bed, my rabbit toy in my hand, hanging by one leg. I creep to the door, wondering if I should leave, find someone… Who would be awake at this hour? I turn the door handle, looking out the door both ways. No one. I start creeping to Bruce's office. If he were awake, he’d be there. I creep down the hall, the building silent. I reach the office, no one stops me—the door’s left ajar. I creep over, pushing it enough to stick my head through. Empty.
I heard a loud noise from down the hall, a sound from the father clock on the stairs—the hidden doorway to the cave. My senses tingle, not from danger but more from fear. Strange. I hold my toy closer to my chest, walking down the hall towards the clock. The sounds morph from distant footsteps echoing through the house into words. The voices were far away, probably still in the cave. I reach the clock, climb on the ceiling, and enter the cave.
“You’ve been stabbed, Tim. You need a doctor.” Dick tells him. “Or at least let Alfred check you out.”
“It looks like it hit your spleen or something gross,” Damian calls out, his feet stomping along the ground.
“Oh, then I’m fine. I don’t have one of those.” Tim answered, his voice sounding calm as if it was just a typical day.
“Why don’t you have a spleen, Tim?” Bruce asked him seriously.
“Does it matter?” He huffed, Alfred now standing at his side, checking out the wound.
“It’s not very deep. I think it will be fine, Master Tim.” He sighed, bandaging Tim’s wound, “But, next time, you really should tell people when you lose organs.”
“It’s not even in his medical records…” Barbra joins the conversation, the computer now open to Tim’s file. “When did that happen?”
Peter looked over the crowd. There were new people, a man in a red helmet and a woman with black hair. It was short, and her costume had the same bat logo most of the team had. Who are they?
“Master Jason! It’s good to see you home. Will you be staying the night?” Alfred asked the man in the red helmet, his body relaxing at Alfred's presence.
“Al… I was probably just going to…”
“Master Jason, you don’t need an excuse if you don’t want to be with your family.” I long pause, and the man, Jason, is staring at Alfred. A loud sigh can be heard through the helmet before he removes it.
“Yes. I’ll stay the night, Alfred.” He reluctantly says, putting his helm on one of the tables.
“Your room is still prepared.” He smiled. Walking over to Bruce and helping him remove his cape. “Master Bruce, the young Master Peter has made you cookies. He wanted to give you them himself, but I convinced him to go to bed.”
“He did?” Bruce still wore his cowl, but his heart fluttered the smallest amount, telling Peter all he needed about his reaction to the cookies. Everyone likes cookies.
“Only B? Or did he make me some too?” Dick asks, now pushing past the bleeding Tim. His face is like a child on Christmas. Bruce removing the rest of his suit.
“He made them for the whole family, but he wasn’t sure if Master Bruce would like them,” Alfred said, his body language standing tall.
‘Now, isn’t that just sweet? Here I thought he’d be like you crazy boys.’ Her hands move fast, and her movement is playful and jeering.
“Rude.” Damian pipes up.
“She’s right, Dami…” Barbra added, now facing the group. “I’d say you're all a little crazy.”
Peter perched high above on the cave’s rocky outcropping, watching the group below as they talked and moved about. His rabbit toy dangled loosely from his hand. It felt like a family—something he hadn’t had in a while, not since Aunt May…
He shook the thought away, clutching the rabbit tighter to steady himself. But as he shifted for a better view, his spider-sense prickled faintly, just enough to make him pause. It wasn’t danger exactly—it was the awareness of being noticed.
“Why does it feel like we’re being watched?” Jason asked, his voice sharp as he looked around the cave. His helmet was tucked under his arm.
Bruce stiffened slightly, his instincts kicking in. “Everyone stay alert.”
Peter held his breath. Maybe he could slip away unnoticed. But then, his rabbit toy, so often a source of comfort, betrayed him. Its foot snagged on a jagged rock as Peter shifted, yanking it from his grasp. He scrambled to catch it, his fingers brushing the fabric—just as it tumbled through the air, he shot a web from his hand, catching it a few feet before it hit the ground.
All heads snapped toward the top of the cave. Him now holding on by one hand, the other slowly pulling the rabbit up.
“What the—?” Damian started, his hand already reaching for a batarang, shooting the web. The rabbit hits the floor with a soft thud.
Dick squinted upward, his acrobat’s instincts drawing his eyes to the higher perches. “Peter? That you?”
Peter’s heart raced. He couldn’t hide now. Slowly, he descended, sticking to the wall as he crept down like a spider. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he froze, caught in the combined gaze of the Bat-family. His rabbit lay at Jason’s feet.
“Peter?” Bruce asked, his voice heavy with a mixture of surprise and concern.
“I-I’m sorry,” Peter stammered, his face burning with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to spy. I just… I couldn’t sleep, and I heard you all talking.”
Jason crouched and picked up the rabbit, inspecting it for a moment, his hand dusting it off. Holding it out to Peter to take. His usual smirk softened. “You dropped this.”
Peter hesitated before taking it. “Thanks,” he murmured, clutching it close.
Bruce sighed, stepping forward and kneeling in front of Peter. “You shouldn’t be wandering around the cave, Peter. It’s not safe. You should keep your feet on the ground for now.”
“I know,” Peter admitted, his eyes welling up despite his efforts to stay composed. “I just… I didn’t want to be alone.”
For a moment, the cave was quiet. Then Alfred stepped forward, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder.
“Master Peter,” he said gently, “it’s understandable to feel that way. But you must be more careful, next time you join us on the floor, okay?”
Peter nodded, his lip quivering slightly. “I’m sorry.”
Bruce studied him for a moment, his stern demeanour softening. He gently grabs Peter's hand. “Come on. How about we have some of the cookies you made before bed?”
As they turned to leave, Peter glanced back at the group. Him smiling brightly, holding Bruce's hand tightly. As they leave from sight, Peter can hear the conversation continue.
“Fuck… You’re right that kids got spunk. Hanging from the ceiling of the cave? Crazy” Jason chuckles a little.
“He’s got super hearing too, so watch your fucking language,” Damian told him. A bright simile on his childish face.
“Damian!” Barbra scolded him.
Peter can’t help but laugh, Bruce now watching his face closely.
“What's so funny, Peter?” He asked, his body now more relaxed.
“No reason, I’m just happy to be included.” I smile, my hand pulling Bruce to the kitchen.
I climb up the counter, my head just passing Bruce, making me a few inches taller. I hold out the plate for him to try. He grabs one without wasting time, taking a slow bite.
“Oh yes. This must be the best cookie I’ve ever had.” He began, humming in delight. Both eyes are closed as if savouring each bite. One eye peeks open to see Peter's face, which has turned into a large smile. “You should have one, too! Or I’ll eat them all!” He laughs a little. Taking the last bite of his cookie.
Peter was unsure what to expect from Bruce, as Batman, he seemed Stearn. But when talking to his kids, he reminded him of his Uncle Ben.
Peter sits on the counter, placing the plate to his right. He grabs a cookie, takes a bite, and nods thoughtfully. “I don’t have much to compare it to, but this one is definitely better than the one I had with Alfred!” I nod, my expression mirroring Bruce’s unusual face. Bruce opens the fridge, pulls out the milk, and pours a glass. Sliding it across the counter toward me, he steps back.
I pick up the glass, glance down at it briefly, and then take a sip.
“Well, Peter, how do you like the Manor?” He asks, now leaning back on the counter across from me. His arms crossed gently.
I swallow the food, whipping the corners of my mouth with my sleeve. “It’s been amazing! Alfred showed me the garden today!” Bruce nodded, listening intently as I talked.
“And… if you wanted to, would you like to stay.” He paused, looking at me again. “You could live here forever if you wanted to... Damian would love to be a big brother, but he won’t admit it.” He laughs, pushing himself off the counter, grabbing my empty glass, and putting it in the sink. “And…” He turns around, looking at me once more.
Tears well in my eyes, my hands gripping the counter. Bruce walks over, his arms wrapping around me and embracing me.
“It’s alright… If it’s too soon, we can wait…” His voice is low and calm, wrapping my mind like a hug. “Or if you’re overwhelmed, it doesn’t need to be official. We can just call you a friend of the family… or something”
“No…” My tears fall onto his clothes, and my arms wrap around him. “I would really like it if I could join…”
“I’m glad.”