Dinner and Books
Damian stood at the dinner table, planting both hands firmly on either side of his plate. “I still think it’s unfair that Peter got to go to the Watchtower before I did,” he declared, fixing Bruce with an intense glare.
Bruce, seemingly unbothered, continued eating his takeout until he finally glanced up at his son.
“Damian…” he said with a sigh, placing his fork down deliberately.
“Father.”
“Peter had to train at the tower because nowhere else could safely handle his strength,” Bruce explained, his tone calm but firm as he returned to his food.
“He could have trained at the Young Justice mountain,” Damian argued, crossing his arms tightly.
Tim leaned back in his chair, letting out an exasperated groan. “No. We just finished fixing everything from Superboy’s last training session. Not doing that again.”
While the back-and-forth unfolded, Peter, oblivious to the tension, cheerfully recounted his training to Cass and Duke, waving his red ball around enthusiastically.
Dick chuckled and decided to jump in. “Damian, I didn’t even get to look at the Watchtower until I was way older than you are now.”
Damian’s glare didn’t waver. “Peter is six!”
Bruce finally straightened in his chair, his voice decisive. “That’s different, Damian. Peter went to the Watchtower because it was the only place he could train safely. He only saw the training hall, and that’s it.”
“I still think it’s unfair,” Damian muttered, though his voice was quieter now.
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “If it bothers you so much, you’re welcome to join his next training session. Just be warned—it’s four hours of watching Peter hold an egg.”
Damian blinked, caught off guard. “…Four hours?”
“Four hours,” Dick confirmed with a smirk. “And that’s assuming he doesn’t smash every egg before the first hour’s up.”
Peter finally looked up from his conversation, holding up his ball triumphantly. “I only broke like… a dozen eggs! That’s not that many!”
Damian groaned, sinking back into his chair, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
Dick chuckled, turning to Peter with a teasing grin. “You broke two dozen eggs, kid.”
“Oh… Well, I didn’t break the ball!” Peter shot back, holding up the red ball proudly.
Dick smirked. “That ball was made so Superman could play catch with Superboy. I’d be very surprised if you managed to break it accidentally.”
Peter pouted, clutching the ball tighter. “Still counts as a win!”
The group burst into laughter while Damian sat in his chair, arms crossed, pouting. He’d already decided that watching Peter smash eggs at the Watchtower wasn’t worth his time. Instead, he began silently plotting how to sneak into the Watchtower on his own terms. After all, that was more his style.
As the night wound down, Peter made his way into the cave to say goodnight to Alfred, who was still on bed rest for a few more days. Pushing open the door, he peeked inside. Alfred sat upright in bed, a tray of food to his right and a book in hand. Without even glancing up, Alfred greeted him.
“Hello, Master Peter.”
“How’d you know it was me?” Peter asked, stepping cautiously into the room.
“I know everything, Master Peter,” Alfred replied, his tone light and amused.
Peter frowned slightly. “Aren’t you lonely down here?”
Alfred finally put the book aside, resting it neatly on the tray. “I’m quite enjoying my time off. The quiet now and then is a rare luxury,” he said with a warm smile. “But having you here makes it much better.”
Peter moved closer to the bed, eyeing it thoughtfully before carefully climbing up. “Bruce said it’s my bedtime, so I just wanted to say goodnight.” He nestled himself next to Alfred, getting comfortable despite his earlier claim.
“I don’t think Master Bruce would mind if we played a quick game of chess before you retire,” Alfred said, his smile widening. Reaching under the bed, he pulled out a box seemingly by magic—a portable chess set.
Peter’s eyes widened. “Whoa… You had that down there?”
“Of course,” Alfred replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Peter grinned, looking at the chessboard with excitement. “Yeah… I don’t think Bruce will mind at all.”
Alfred reached for a small table nearby, but it was just out of his reach. Peter noticed and quickly sprang into action, shooting a web to pull the table closer. Alfred adjusted it carefully, setting up the chessboard.
“Thank you, Master Peter,” Alfred said with a slight nod of approval.
Peter eagerly began helping to set up the pieces. Once everything was in place, he grabbed both kings, hiding them behind his back and shuffling them around. “Which hand?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
“The right one, please,” Alfred replied calmly.
Peter revealed the white king in his right hand and placed it back on the board with a small sigh. “Darn, you go first…” he muttered, settling into his spot and crossing his arms.
Alfred’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he made the first move, sliding his pawn forward with deliberate precision.
Bruce glanced at the clock on the wall, let out a quiet sigh, and rose from his chair. His steps were steady and deliberate as he made his way toward the cave. The soft hum of the equipment greeted him as he neared the medical bay.
Pausing just outside the door, he peered through the small window. Inside, Peter and Alfred were hunched over a chessboard, the game in full swing. Alfred’s expression was calm and calculating, while Peter’s face lit up with determination as he carefully considered his next move.
Bruce’s hand hovered near the door handle but stopped short. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched them for a moment. Deciding not to interrupt, he turned and headed to the computer. Settling into the chair, he resumed working on case files, the faint sounds of their laughter and quiet conversation in the background bringing an unexpected warmth to the otherwise cold cave.
“I think you’ve gotten better, Master Peter,” Alfred said with a warm smile as he claimed another one of Peter’s pieces.
Peter furrowed his brow, staring intently at the board. “I thought about chess a lot…” he admitted absentmindedly, his hand darting out to move his knight. It landed on a square that took the pawn Alfred had just used to capture Peter’s rook.
Alfred arched a curious brow at the boy’s thoughtful tone. “A wise use of strategy, Master Peter. But what do you mean by that?”
Peter glanced up briefly before returning his focus to the game. “It was easier to play a game in my head than pay attention… to other stuff,” he murmured, his voice quiet but steady.
Alfred paused, studying Peter carefully, his usual composure softening with understanding. “Ah, I see. Chess can be a refuge, a way to bring order to chaos,” he said gently. “And it seems to me that it has served you well.”
Peter nodded, his lips pressing into a small, thoughtful smile as he prepared for Alfred’s next move.
“I'm sorry I couldn’t save you, Master Peter…” Alfred admitted softly, his hand guiding his bishop across the board. “Check.”
Peter's brow furrowed as he studied the board, carefully moving his king to the right. “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me…”
Alfred's gaze softened as he responded, his tone unwavering. “I would die if it meant keeping you and the others safe, Master Peter.” He moved his rook with precision. “Checkmate.”
“Oh darn…” Peter muttered, frustration flickering across his face as he leaned closer to the board. “I fell into your trap again.”
“You did,” Alfred said, the corners of his lips curling upward in a faint smile. He glanced at the clock and added, “Well, it’s far past your bedtime now, isn’t it?”
“Yes…” Peter mumbled, holding out his small hand for Alfred to shake. The two worked together silently to clean up the chessboard.
Hopping off the bed, Peter looked up at Alfred. “Goodnight, Alfred.”
“Goodnight, Master Peter,” Alfred replied, his voice filled with warmth.
Peter stepped out of the room, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. But his attention was quickly drawn upward as he spotted Bruce sitting at the computer, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
“Bruce!” Peter called, jogging over to him. His eyes immediately fixed on the glowing screen. “What are you looking at?”
Bruce turned slightly, his expression softening as he looked down at the curious boy. “I’m trying to track some people down,” he explained. “But I do believe it’s your bedtime, isn’t it?”
Peter tilted his head, a spark of excitement lighting up his face. “I could help you track the people down!” he offered, trying to stand on his tiptoes to get a better look at the screen.
Bruce chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Maybe tomorrow,” he replied with a faint smile as he stood. He extended a hand toward Peter.
Peter hesitated for a moment before gently placing his small hand in Bruce’s. He was careful, using the lightest touch to ensure he didn’t accidentally crush Bruce’s hand.
Bruce squeezed Peter’s hand lightly, guiding him away from the computer. “Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he said warmly.
“Did you have fun with Alfred?” Bruce asked as they walked through the dimly lit hallways of the Batcave.
“Yes! He said I got better at chess!” Peter exclaimed, his face lighting up with excitement.
“Really? Well, isn’t that amazing! We’ll have to play a game sometime,” Bruce said, glancing down at Peter with a warm smile.
“Yes, let’s play!” Peter responded, his enthusiasm bubbling over.
“Not tonight,” Bruce chuckled softly. Peter’s bright smile faded slightly into a pout.
“Okay…” he mumbled.
They left the cave and made their way up the stairs, the manor quiet except for their soft footsteps. When they reached Peter’s room, Bruce gently pushed the door open. Peter darted inside, rushing to his bed and climbing up with ease. He wriggled under the covers, getting comfortable as Bruce followed him in, a small smile on his face.
Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, his voice calm and steady. “Would you like a bedtime story?”
“Yes, please!” Peter answered eagerly, scooting down further into the bed, his eyes wide with anticipation.
Bruce nodded, stood up, and scanned the bookshelf. Selecting a classic, he returned to Peter’s side and opened the book to the first page.
“The Tailor of Gloucester,” Bruce began, his voice deep and soothing as Peter settled in, listening intently.