Baby Damian one-shots

The Cookie Crisis

The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through Wayne Manor, a rare treat courtesy of Alfred, who had been experimenting with a new recipe. The rich aroma was enough to draw even the smallest Wayne to the kitchen.

Damian, with Batty tucked under one arm, appeared in the doorway, his big green eyes immediately locking onto the tray of chocolate chip cookies cooling on the counter.

"Alfred," he declared, his voice filled with purpose, "I would like a cookie."

Alfred looked up from wiping the counter, offering Damian a polite smile. "Master Damian, those cookies are still cooling. You'll need to wait a few minutes."

Damian frowned, clearly offended. "I don't think you understand. I'm very hungry."

"Dinner is in an hour," Alfred replied smoothly. "A cookie before dinner would spoil your appetite."

Damian huffed, stomping his little foot. "It won't! I promise, I'll eat all my dinner if I can just have one. Please!"

But Alfred was steadfast. "No, Master Damian. You'll have to wait."

Realizing that pleading wasn't working, Damian set Batty down on the counter and folded his arms. His face twisted into a determined scowl—the one Bruce liked to call the Wayne Glare of Doom.

"Fine," Damian said dramatically. "But you've forced my hand, Alfred."

With that, he hoisted himself onto a stool and began his slow ascent onto the counter. Alfred's sharp, disapproving cough stopped him mid-climb.

"Master Damian," Alfred said sternly, raising an eyebrow. "If you think I won't tell your father about this, you are sorely mistaken."

Damian froze, weighing his options. He glanced at the cookies, then back at Alfred, then sighed like the most misunderstood child in Gotham.

"Papa would give me a cookie," he muttered, sliding back down the stool.

As if summoned, Bruce appeared in the doorway. "What's this about a cookie?"

"Alfred is being unfair!" Damian exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the butler. "I'm starving, and he won't let me have one tiny little cookie! It's cruel, Papa!"

Bruce crossed his arms, exchanging a look with Alfred, who maintained his usual calm. "Did Alfred say you had to wait?"

"Yes," Damian admitted, pouting.

"Then you wait," Bruce said firmly.

Damian's jaw dropped. "You too?"

Bruce crouched down to his son's level. "Dami, I know it's hard to wait, but Alfred's rules are for a reason. If you wait patiently, I promise you'll enjoy the cookie even more."

Damian stared at Bruce, clearly unimpressed by the logic. "What if I can't wait?"

Bruce smirked. "Then you need to try harder."

Seeing no way out, Damian let out a heavy sigh, dragging himself to a chair and flopping onto it dramatically. "Fine. But if I starve before dinner, it's your fault."

Bruce chuckled, ruffling Damian's hair. "Noted."

By the time dinner rolled around, Damian ate just enough to keep his promise and practically leapt out of his chair when Alfred finally brought out the cookies.

As he bit into his reward, his face lit up with pure joy. "This is the best cookie ever!"

Bruce leaned against the counter, watching his son savor every bite. "Worth the wait?"

Damian nodded, crumbs on his face. "Yeah...but next time, I get two."

Bruce laughed, pulling Damian into a hug. "Nice try, buddy."