Special thanks to Blizzardwing47, CloeTheTealSnake , Supergirl406,  wolflover567117 and Marie-Ioana for giving me their suggestions of what should happen in the story and helping me get this story out for this weekend

"What do you mean I can't go on this mission? I'm basically a member of the Justice League and this is a Justice League mission!" Dick exclaimed, folding his arms with a pout. The pout didn't strike home like he would've liked it to since Bruce just found it adorable. It was worth a shot since he didn't have much to lose. Bruce could never bench him because he'd just sneak out afterward. Unfortunately, Bruce could bar him from missions when he saw fit. This was one of the times he saw fit. "This is an adult mission. The topic isn't something I want you to see," Bruce explained. The younger couldn't really argue against that. Sure he wanted to be treated like an adult but he was nine and looked younger. Despite this, he continued to pout about the situation. "Think about it this way, you get to spend some one on one time with Alfred," Bruce said, trying to get him to stop pouting. As much as it looked adorable, he didn't want Dick to get into the routine of getting upset when he didn't get what he wanted. He'd read it in a parenting book somewhere. Although, he was pretty sure the parenting book was for 3-5-year-olds but that was neither here nor there. His suggestion turned Dick's mood from grumpy to rather excited. "That doesn't sound too bad," he stated, trying to suppress his excitement. "But you have to tuck me in tonight to make up for not bringing me. I hardly get to see them outside of work," Dick added with a smile. Bruce stuck out his hand which Dick shook happily. 

"Deal." 

After waving Bruce off on his mission, Dick turned to Alfred excitedly. He'd grown a sort of affinity with the old butler. He was like a grandad in every aspect except relation. He'd sneak Dick sweets when Bruce said he'd had enough and tell his guardian off if he thought he was given Dick a hard time. He spoilt Dick but he knew when to stop before he made him a brat. Dick liked that about him. He felt safe growing up with him around to stop his newfound status from going to his head. He'd rather not end up like those stuck up millionaires at the galas who'd rather die than shop at the dollar store. "So what's our plan of action for tonight?" Dick asked with a grin. 

"I'm thinking we start with a spot of baking, you can do a few jobs for me then get you in bed for ten," Alfred replied.

"I like everything about that except for the bed by ten bit. Bruce won't be back till midnight and he has to tuck me in. We made a deal," he explained. The butler chuckled to himself.

"Well deals are rather concrete and it is the weekend. I'll let it go this once." Dick hugged him in gratitude, almost knocking the air out of the older. 

"Thank you, Alfie, I owe you one." The older petted his hair with a smile. 

"I'll hold you to that. Now how about we get started on baking?"

"Oh, can we make cookies? Pleeeease," the younger begged.

"Cookies it is."

In the kitchen, Dick dug out the recipe book as Alfred prepared the utensils. The book was quite old and Dick took great care when he flipped the pages. It was probably just as old as Alfred and he assumed Alfred had been around hundreds of years ago. He flipped through the pages, stopping when he saw the page with a watercolour painting of the cookies. He then put the book on a bookstand. "Now since you're my sous chef, you're going to collect all the ingredients we need from the fridge then from the cupboard. Do you think you can do that?" Alfred asked. The younger nodded eagerly and ran over to the fridge. "Alright, we need butter, eggs, and milk. Don't bring them all at once. We don't want a repeat of last time," he reminded the younger. He had a tendency to bite off more than he could chew, figuratively and literally. 

"I could've done it if Bruce didn't put something in the toaster. Anybody would've jumped," Dick defended, smirking to himself. 

"I'm sure they would but I didn't enjoy cleaning up the mess," Alfred said. Once he got the ingredients from the fridge, Dick clambered his way up onto the countertop in order to get to the cupboard. He felt Alfred's watchful eyes on him as he did so, knowing that at any sign of trouble the butler would jump in to catch him. It wasn't often he fell though. It only happened if he hadn't slept much or got spooked by a sudden noise. Luckily, there weren't any noises to spook him and he wasn't too sleep deprived so he got up without incident. "We need sugar, vanilla extract, chocolate chips and flour."

"Is vanilla extract the one in the fancy bottle that B says I can't drink out of?" he questioned, showing a bottle of whiskey. 

"Certainly not, it's much smaller but a similar shape." After some rummaging, he eventually found what they needed and passed it over to Alfred. He'd began portioning the ingredients, keeping them out just in case there was an accident and with Dick around that was very likely. As he waited for Alfred to get himself ready, Dick picked up the bottle of vanilla extract in curiosity. "What does this do?" he asked.

"It makes the cookies taste nice." Dick looked at the liquid slosh around in the bottle before shrugging. He screwed off the cap and gulped down a mouth full. He immediately regretted that decision and wiped his tongue with the hem of his shirt to get the taste off. "What did you do?" Alfred inquired through a laugh, seeing the boy's rapid movements out of the corner of his eye. 

"Nothing!" he replied in embarrassment. "Just so you know, never drink that stuff. It tastes gross or so I've heard."

"I'll keep that in mind." He finished sectioning off the ingredients and gave Dick the job of putting in everything they needed into a large mixing bowl.

Once he finished putting them in the bowl, Alfred began mixing the ingredients. He kept having to walk away from the counter since Dick kept trying to eat the raw cookie dough. "You've got to wait, Master Dick," he reminded the boy but he took little notice of that. He was a nine-year-old with access to sugar so reasoning with him was out the window. "You'll get salmonella," Alfred insisted after his attempts didn't cease. 

"Salmonella shamonella," Dick responded as though it was a viable argument. Alfred rolled his eyes, deciding to compromise with the boy before he gave himself an injury trying to get to the food. "If you don't eat the cookie dough, you can have some chocolate chips later." The acrobat thought through the idea then nodded. 

"Sounds fair." With a sigh of relief, Alfred began mixing closer to the counter. 

"Can I have a go?" Dick asked. 

"As long as you don't eat it."

"Pfft like I would ever do that," he dismissed when the butler surrendered the bowl. He received a deadpan look but easily shrugged it off. It was just Alfred's British humour. Dick went to Britain once and it rained the entire time. He supposed the gloomy weather would make their humour a bit pessimistic. "How do I know when they're mixed?" he asked.

"By the time I've washed these containers," the older replied, moving over to the sink. He must've turned his back for little more than a few seconds but in that time Dick managed to get the mixture stuck in his hair, on his face and on his shirt. "What am I going to do with you?" Alfred mumbled upon finding the mess.

"I genuinely can't tell you how this happened," Dick answered, handing the bowl over so Alfred could put the dough on a baking tray. 

"I can't give you much of a theory either I'm afraid," the butler said with a ghost of a smile. "Can you put the ingredients away for me?" Sure cookie dough would be a bugger to get out of his shirt but at least Dick was having fun. He remembered the nights when Dick would sit in the Batcave, waiting. Nothing much would ever come out of it, nevertheless, he'd refuse to even move a muscle from the spot he chose. It took months of gentle coaxing to leave and spend some time with Alfred. Though Alfred wouldn't exchange his efforts for anything. It gave him more times like these with the boy he considered a grandson. How could he not consider him like that? Bruce was practically his son and, since Bruce saw Dick as his son, it only made the feeling natural. Although, at the start, he hadn't been too fond of a kid hero running about on the streets. In fact, he voiced his concerns early on that he'd have no part in the matter of Dick being a hero. Yet times changed and there he was helping Dick modify his suit after learning the weaknesses of each iteration. "Alfie the flour fell on me," Dick announced, shaking him from his thoughts. Alfred stifled a laugh upon finding the acrobat covered with flour. He wore an embarrassed grin as Alfred did his best to dust him off. The butler picked him up, placing him back on the ground before sending him off to get cleaned up. God knows how much he loved having that little ball of energy around.

Dick returned wearing his pajamas and messy mop of wet raven hair. Alfred shook his head, grabbing a hairbrush because there was no way in hell Dick would do it himself. He gently took the boy by the shoulder and brushed through his hair. After calming the chaos that was his hair, Alfred gave him the chocolate chips he was promised and sent him off to do some chores for him to burn off his everlasting energy. He glanced at the time, noticing that they still had a while until Bruce came back. That meant he had just enough time to calm Dick down before bedtime.

Dick completed all the chores in around thirty minutes and dashed back to the butler. "What can we do now?" he asked, hardly out of energy. Of course, he wasn't, he never truly was. Alfred sometimes thought that endless energy was his superpower but after rigorous testing, the League confirmed that he didn't have any powers of any sort. Even Wally wasn't this bad until he had sugar. How Dick's parents dealt with him would always be a mystery. "Well, what do you want to do?" Alfred responded. The smaller thought, putting a finger on his chin as though that would help then snapped his fingers. 

"You know how to use guns right?" Alfred nodded, doing his best to hide his shock of the topic. "Do you think you could give me some pointers? B kind of went through them but I think you'd have something I could use too," he explained. 

"Master Bruce forbids the use of such weaponry out on patrol so I don't see why you need to know more than he has told you," Alfred said.

"C'mon Alfie, it's me. You know I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think I needed to know." The older sighed. 

"Promise me you'll do exactly what I say. Guns aren't toys."

"I promise."

They went to the Batcave where Alfred opened a small room revealing a pistol, a shotgun and a few other guns that had fancy carvings in them. Dick knew Bruce inherited them from his father since Bruce wouldn't have them if they weren't, especially when he had a very curious nine-year-old running wild around the place. "Why did Bruce's dad have guns in the first place?" he inquired, keeping far from them. He knew they weren't just going to stand up and shoot him in the face yet he felt wary of them. He wasn't scared per se, just extremely cautious. Guns weren't something he was supposed to have much contact on account of him being a literal child. "His father simply inherited them. Well not all of them. The pistol is mine," Alfred explained. 

"Wait, why do you have a gun?" Dick exclaimed. Alfred remained quiet for a moment or two. He didn't know what Bruce wanted the boy to know and not know but he supposed the time would come when he'd eventually learn. "The Gotham Master Bruce grew up in is quite different from the Gotham of today. I had to take arms to protect him and myself. We were, are, quite a target," he replied. Dick frowned, slowly taking Alfred's hand and squeezing it.

"At least you've got a lot more protection now, right? Bruce is all grown up and I'm here so when I grow up, I'll be right here to protect you too. The League is here as well," he said optimistically. Alfred smiled to himself and squeezed the boy's hand back. 

"Times have certainly changed. What exactly did you want me to show you then?"

"Actually, I think it's a little late for training. We could just watch a movie instead?"

"I didn't scare you did I?"

"No no, just, seeing them. I don't know, it just feels sort of wrong to even know where they are. Plus, Bruce would've taught me more if I needed to, right?"

"I suppose so. Those cookies would've cooled down by now, how about you go put on a movie and I'll bring them in for you?" Dick nodded with a grin and ran off back upstairs. Alfred waited for him to leave before he turned back to the wall of guns. They were old fashioned now. Sure people bought guns every day across the states but Alfred never wanted the damn things in the house. Not around a young Bruce, before or after his parents were shot, and he certainly didn't want them around Dick. His curiosity was dangerous when he focused it on the wrong thing. Alfred thought back to Dick's clear discomfort around them so he guessed his curiosity wouldn't peak upon finding them again unsupervised. He walked out of the room and closed the door. He'd make sure to remind Bruce to put a lock on the door, just in case. Better safe than sorry.

When Alfred arrived with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, Dick had settled down and put on one of his cartoon movies. The butler couldn't place the name but he knew it had something to do with Scooby-doo or something similar. They sat in silence until Dick spoke up. "Do you think Gotham could get that bad again?" he inquired, his voice nothing more than a whisper. He seemed scared to even ask, either fearing the reaction or the answer. Maybe both. 

"I very much doubt it. Not when we have Master Bruce and you," he assured Dick. 

"But what about when B is too old to be doing it? I'll be Batman then and I might not be as good as he was," he argued.

"Master Dick, I can assure you that you will be just as good as him and maybe even better."

"B inspired nearly the whole of Gotham! How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"You're not." Dick tilted his head in confusion so the older elaborated. "You can't compare yourself to Batman because you aren't him. You're Robin. You might not be when you're older but you're you. The only thing you should compete with is yourself."

"So I don't have to live up to Batman because I'm me?" Alfred nodded. Dick hummed, taking on the message and committing it to memory. It was honestly intimidating to think that one day he'd be Batman. Bruce hadn't explicitly told him that he'd take the mantle yet he felt like it was implied that he would. In a way, he really wanted to be Batman. It just felt sort of right but there was always a nagging voice that said it wasn't for him. He hoped it would quieten down after a while.

Alfred checked the time after the movie ended, finding that Bruce would be home in around twenty minutes. He then glanced at Dick who looked like he was going to drift off to sleep soon. "It's time you got to bed," Alfred stated, turning off the TV.

"But I'm not even tired," Dick protested as he rubbed at his eyes. The older shook his head and picked him up, resting him on his hip. 

"Evidence says otherwise," he stated, moving Dick's hands from his eyes. He'd do himself an injury if he rubbed them too hard. 

"But Bruce is gonna tuck me in," Dick whined.

"And he will, you just might be asleep first." Dick tried to wiggle out of his grip yet all attempts failed. He eventually gave up when they got to the top of the stairs, knowing that there was no going back now. Alfred carried the acrobat to his bedroom and got him into bed. "Would you like a story before you go to sleep?" As Dick made himself comfortable, he gave a small tired nod. He reached over to his bedside table and passed him a heavy book. "Heidi? That's rather advanced," Alfred muttered. 

"I can't read it so Bruce reads it to me. My English isn't that good yet," he explained, barely able to keep his eyes open. His energy must've been suppressed. 

"Alright, Chapter Five..."

Bruce quickly got dressed back into civilian clothes and knocked on the door of Dick's bedroom. He didn't expect Alfred to open the door and hand him the book he was reading to Dick though he wasn't unhappy by the surprise. He liked the fact his father figure was bonding with his ward. He smiled at the older who gave him a gentle smile back before he crept into the room. Dick was curled up on his side, his face peaceful for now. Hopefully, this would be a nightmare free night. Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, accidentally waking up the acrobat. "Bruce?" Dick croaked.

"Hey, Chum. I came to hold up my end of the deal," he answered, moving so Dick could see him better. 

"Did the mission go well?"

"Better than expected." He stroked the younger's hair lovingly, cherishing the quiet moment. There weren't that many with their second lives looming over them so he took great pleasure in the times he did get to just be a dad. "Did you have fun with Alfred?" Dick nodded, smirking to himself. Bruce tucked him in like he said he would and kissed his ward on the forehead. "Goodnight chum."

"G'night B."

Over 3000 words to make up for counting Alfred out of the family in the last fic...

LoVe YoU 3000