Chapter Text
Damian sat on the couch sulking after getting kicked out of the kitchen again, Tim coming in after him. Jason looked up from his work as his brother practically threw himself onto the couch with a loud sigh.
Glancing over at his father he looked back to his brothers.
"Are you going to explain what's wrong or just continue to sigh dramatically." He raised an eyebrow at the two, waiting for either to start talking.
"Alfred kicked us out of the kitchen again." Tim threw his head back over the armrest of the couch, Damian glancing upset back into the hallway.
"It's not fair, I want to go into the kitchen. How come none of us are allowed in the kitchen." Damian glared down the hallway before going back to his sulking.
"Yeah, Alfred could let us in every now and then couldn't he?" Tim glanced up at their father, who to this moment hadn't even acknowledged his two youngest sons.
"Dick is allowed in." Jason rolled his eyes, as much as he loved his brother he didn't understand what made him so special in Alfred's eyes. Not even Bruce was allowed in the kitchen.
Their father chuckled and finally set down his book, all three boys looking at him incredulously. "The only other person Alfred has allowed in the kitchen was my mother. And Dick is a very special case."
Bruce probably would've left it at that if the other three hadn't immediately surrounded him and looked up with wide eyes, desperate to get any knowledge on their older brother from before they knew him.
He sighed and folded his reading glasses and marked his page in his book. "When your brother was young, he had a tendency to sneak around. So when one day, Alfred found him in the kitchen cooking something his mother used to cook on the few occasions they had a worthy kitchen, he sat and watched."
The three looked intently at their father, they knew Dick got homesick a lot as a child, he still did, even if he was better at hiding it.
They knew their brother enjoyed cooking, he talked to Alfred about it all the time, had a notebook of recipes he wanted to try. But they thought he just gave the recipes to Alfred and maybe sat watched. They didn't know he'd been cooking.
Tim wondered how many times they'd thanked Alfred for cooking something when it had actually been their brother, he wondered why his brother was so secretive about cooking with their grandfather. He figured maybe because it stemmed from such an emotional part of him, but he didn't think Dick was one to shy away from his emotions. He'd always encouraged his brothers and father to show their emotions, good or bad, loud or soft, no matter how destructive.
But he guessed his brother was just full of secrets that he and Jason needed to unravel. They were detectives after all.
"Alfred sat and watched as your brother made Sarma, which he later said his mother would make him for special occasions, such as birthdays, or when he perfected a new trick, or a joe grey, we'll have to ask him to make some. I don't think he's been in the kitchen for a while." Bruce looked off into space and smiled a little.
Alfred walked into the kitchen, almost having a heart attack at seeing a young Richard standing at the counter making food, but it smelled so incredible, and the poor boy had been so upset the past week Alfred didn't have the heart to stop him. Especially after seeing Zitka sitting on the counter, acting as sous chef.
He sat and watched the young boy, who'd been with him and Bruce for almost a year, make a dish he was unfamiliar with. Once he turned and saw the butler sitting there he turned white and started stuttering out an explanation, his words getting lost in his accent and mother tongue.
He looked at the young boy gently and slowly raised and lowered his hands, showing him to work on his breathing technique, he grabbed Zitka and started rubbing her ears.
"Sorry, I just.." He looked down and tried to find the proper words. "I miss my parents, and Mami made this for special occasions, and I feel that, that I've had some special occasions, but no Mami to make it. But, But I remembered how to make it and so I thought that maybe, if you really liked it, you wouldn't be angry at me being in the kitchen. I'm really sorry, I should've asked, but I didn't want you to say no.."
The boy looked down and avoided eye contact with the older man. "It's quite alright young Richard, why don't you tell me what you made and we can have it and tell Bruce about it when he gets back from his conference?" He spoke softer than usual, hoping the boy would back away from the edge of the panic attack he was on.
Luckily it seemed to work and Dick very proudly grabbed the plate and brought it around the kitchen island to Alfred. "It's Sarma, it's got beef, pork, and rice, wrapped in a cabbage leaf." He proudly placed the plate in front of the butler and took one, biting in and immediately smiling.
The older man took a bite and was pleasantly surprised that a ten year old made such good food.
"He decided from then on, that Dick would be able to help in the kitchen, if nothing else but to keep him from spiraling. But he does make very good food, especially if it's a Roma dish. We'll have to ask him some time this week to make something." Bruce smiled at the memory and stood, deciding that was enough to share about their older brother.
"Do you think, that if I asked him, he would make me some food?" Damian didn't make eye contact with anyone as he asked. Bruce smiled and looked at his sons.
"He would make you anything you asked for."
With that, their father left the room, leaving the older two with more questions about their oldest brother.