Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice or its characters.

Summary: Batman – crime fighter, vigilante, mentor. Bruce Wayne – CEO, father and playboy. The one thing he can't do is cook.

"Talking"

Tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick.

Went the grandfather clock, the sound of ticking echoing throughout Wayne manor except to where the kitchen was due to the fact that soft talking and cooking could be heard in there.

And inside that kitchen were two very well-known public figures, Bruce Wayne – the billionaire playboy – and Richard `Dick` Grayson, Bruce's ward/adopted son.

"Ack! Bruce, no!" cried out Dick, stopping his adopted father from pouring in the tomato sauce to the still boiling noodles. "Geez, no wonder Alfred doesn't let you cook let alone boil water," bemoaned Dick but mentally he was cackling at the fact that Bruce, aka: Batman couldn't cook.

At. All.

Raising an eyebrow, Bruce didn't bother commenting back so instead he placed down the tomato sauce somewhere on the counter that wasn't a mess. The only counter clean was further away from said mess – that was from the cake mix – and Robin – who was currently making something.

"What else are you making?" Bruce questioned his ward, curious to know what his little bird was also making besides cake and spaghetti.

"Mmmm," Dick non-commented, a teasing grin on his face. "Guess."

Allowing a small smile to grace his lips, Bruce decided to play this game. At least then it'll pass the time. "Is it dessert?"

Giggling, Dick shook his head, careful to not spill his mystery food.

Still smiling that small smile, Bruce – grabbing the tomato sauce just in case – walked over to Dick and peered over his head and looked at the dough substance that's currently in the white bowl. "Another dinner?"

Rolling the dough, careful to not break it apart or such, Dick shook his head in negative and gave a small hint. "Try another word that's not dinner or supper~"

"Appetizer," Bruce immediately answered. 100% accurate sure in his answer.

Looking up, hands atop the rolled dough, Dick grinned. "Your getting slow," teased the blue-eyed ward, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Before Bruce could retaliate, the sound of insert the sound of something boiling over attracted both man and teen's attention.

"Oh crap!" Dick yelled, just now remembering the noodles that are currently being over boiled.

"I'll get it," Bruce's ever calm voice said right away, placing the tomato sauce atop the dough and putting on an oven glove. He turned off the stove, grabbed the pot and hurriedly walked over to the sink where he drowned the ruined noodles. Steamy smoke evaporated into the air, causing the billionaire to let go of the pot and move back a step.

"Dad!" worried Dick, who knocked over the sauce and dough, as he ran over to his father's side with a concerned look on his face.

Taking off the glove, Bruce grimaced at the mess his kitchen is now in but his immediate concern was his worried son. Dropping the glove, seeing as the kitchen was already a disaster, Bruce placed his hands on his son's shoulders and gave a genuine smile, saying, "I'm fine, Dick. Nothing to worry about."

Giving a sigh of relief – even though he knew Bruce wasn't in any danger – Dick gave a smile back, drawing strength from his adopted father's hands. His presence a safety blanket for the little robin.

The smell of burning food drew both father and son's attention, this time – without words – they immediately ran over to the oven and turned it off, Bruce being the one to take out the burnt cake (after picking up the glove) and Dick bemoaning his ruined master pieces.

"...Next time we order take out," Bruce broke the silence. His eyes taking in the mess now that his son wasn't worried over him and the burnt smell kinda evaporating. Ruined noodles overrode his sink, tomato sauce painting his tiled floor and dough also ruined from landing on the floor with a splat. Last but not least, was the burnt cake.

"I'm not feeling the aster," agreed Dick, grimacing at the mess he and Bruce somehow accidently made in the last few minutes.

"How do you feel about take out?" Bruce asked, now that dinner is ruined without any hope of being salvaged.

"What do you think about grizzled cheese and noodles?" Robin said instead of answering.

Thinking it over, it did beat greasy food over home-made ones. So with a nod, the two got to work cleaning up the kitchen and making their simple dinner.

...

"Happy father's day, Bruce." Dick snuggled against his father's side, his eyes glued to the TV screen but nonetheless his voice carried his love for his adopted father even when he wasn't looking straight at him.

Wrapping his arm over Dick and pulling him closer, Bruce gazed down at the black mop of hair of his son's head and said back with equal love, "Thank you, Dick."

AN: This is the first EVER modern day, DC thing I've done. I've butcher Bruce Wayne and made Dick a bit more emotional than his usual playfulness. But all in all, I'm proud of this.

HAPPY BE-LATED FATHER'S DAY~

Reviews are appreciated~