I do not own; DC does, obviously.

The beginning is somewhat based on some lines at the end of another one of my stories, "The Bugatti." Reading it is not necessary, though.

"He looks like a Rottweiler," Tim sniggered.

"Hmmm." Dick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You're right, Tim. He kind of does."

"He'll never get it right," Tim declared.

"Now, Tim, we mustn't ever give up hope." Dick turned to his youngest brother. "Okay, Little D, a little more pathetic-ness and a LOT less ferocious-ness."

Damian made a slightly different face. "Now?"

Dick shook his head. "Not quite. More wounded-animal sadness in the eyes and more pout in the lips."

Damian attempted the look.

"Now he looks like a Rottweiler in need of a facelift," Tim hooted.

"When I'm done with you, Drake, you'll be in need of a facelift," Damian hissed, taking a step towards his brother.

Dick caught Damian before he could advance any farther. "Now, now. We're only trying to help. You said you wanted to learn how to do puppy-dog eyes."

"I didn't realize it would be so difficult," Damian snarled.

"I think we need to use the mirror again," Tim announced, his laughing fit over. He went over to the table and retrieved a large mirror.

Dick sat next to Damian while Tim held the mirror up to their faces. "Okay, Damian, make your puppy-dog eyes and I'll make mine. Go."

Seconds later, Dick was making expert puppy-dog eyes at his reflection. Damian, for lack of a better word, was making a face.

Tim laughed again, pointing at Damian. "He's terrible, Dick. A thousand times worse than me!"

Dick looked at Damian's reflection. The kid looked like an angry basset hound – droopy in all the wrong places and with a fire in his eyes. Dick sighed.

"Damian, you need to pout like this. See?" He demonstrated. "Not like this." Dick attempted to "pout" like Damian, but improper pouting was so foreign to him that he couldn't get it correct. Tim began laughing again.

"Okay, little D, let's try this again. And pout."

Damian looked like he was turning his mouth inside out. It was most definitely not cute.

"Let's work on the eyes, shall we?" Dick suggested.

"What's wrong with my eyes, Grayson?" Damian hissed.

"Umm, you look like a ravenous tiger. Try to up the Bambi factor. Like this." Dick demonstrated. Tim just shook his head; his older brother could turn it on and off like a faucet.

Damian sneered. "You look pathetic."

Dick threw his hands in the air. "That's the point! You're trying to melt his heart, not make him think you want to eat it."

Damian turned his nose in the air. "I will not stoop to that level."

"Like you're so superior," Tim snorted.

Dick was slightly confused. "I thought you wanted to learn my tricks for getting your own way."

"Not if they're so ridiculous."

"I believe you mean ridiculously effective."

Damian crossed his arms and turned his back on Dick. "I have changed my mind. I will no longer be requiring your services."

"My services?"

"So you really think you're going to convince Bruce, all by yourself, to let you go to the arcade, huh?" Tim asked.

"I will do it," Damian growled. "I just need more time."

Dick and Tim exchanged "yeah right" glances.

"How many times have you already asked him if you can go to the arcade with Colin?" Dick asked gently.

"Three… no, four times. Twice yesterday and twice this morning. So, four times," Damian pronounced, tilting his head slightly to look at Dick out of the corner of his eye.

Dick shook his head. "Little D, when I was ten Wally invited me to go to the arcade in Central City with him and Barry. And you know how many times I had to ask Bruce? Once."

Tim raised his eyebrows. "You are a god."

"I don't believe you." Damian snapped his head, refusing to look at Dick.

"Well, here's how it went down. I went up to Bruce and asked if I could go to the arcade with Wally and Barry. Of course, he said no at first. He doesn't really like arcades or people going places with Barry Allen. Anyway, after he said no the first time, I climbed up into his lap and asked again. He said no again but his voice was softer. He was beginning to crack. And it's all in the tone." Dick paused to point at Damian and make sure he had his attention. "It's all in the tone. You need to listen to how he's saying it, not what he's saying. Anyway, I knew I had him. So I snuggled into his lap a little further, made my best puppy-dog eyes and said "Pleeeease?" Five minutes later, I was strapped to Barry Allen's back on my way to Central City. With fifty dollars in my pocket, I might add." Dick sat back, smiling smugly at the memory and the efficiency of his system.

"Dang," Tim breathed. He had never been able to win Jack Drake over like that; he had occasional successes with Bruce, but not like Dick.

"Fifty bucks," Damian snorted in an attempt to denigrate Dick's accomplishment.

Dick frowned. "D, I don't think you realize how far fifty bucks could take you in an arcade when I was ten. Wally and I were at that arcade over five hours and we played every game at least twice. It was awesome."

Damian growled. "Maybe Father just likes you better," he pouted. He had meant to mope under his breath, but the sharp ears of his brothers heard him.

"Definitely," Tim agreed cheekily before Dick could respond. "I've often thought that. I mean, how could Bruce not like Dick better than you?"

"Tim!" Dick cried, aghast. "Completely uncalled-for. We're all his sons. Bruce loves us all equally."

Tim raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Even Jason? 'Cause I really think he should love us" – he gestured between himself and Dick – "more than him."

Dick huffed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, even Jason. It's what Dads do."

"Fine then." Damian turned around to face Dick and Tim. He locked eyes with Dick. "Get permission for me."

Dick shrugged. "Okay, sure. Call Colin and tell him I'll take you guys to the arcade."

"I didn't invite you!" Damian shrieked.

"Well, I'm not going to wait in the car or go shoe shopping like somebody's mom. Besides, we love arcades. Right, Tim?"

"Oh, yeah." Tim grinned. "I'm gonna kick your butt."

"Not on Dance Dance Revolution, you won't!"

"Fine. On everything except that."

Dick nodded. "Probably true." He couldn't hold a candle to Tim's video-game skills – except when the game was about kinetic energy. He cleaned up then.

Damian was just staring, annoyed at his brothers.

"So, are you going to call Colin?" Tim asked, wondering why Damian wasn't already on the phone.

Damian scowled. "I can't. Father took my cell phone so I couldn't orchestrate a rendezvous with Colin and sneak out."

Dick chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Damian's hair before his brother yanked his hand away. "Use my phone." He pulled his cell out of his pocket. "Do you know his number, by any chance?"

Damian snatched the phone. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Umm, because the phone remembers all your numbers. I can barely remember the Manor's number anymore," Dick admitted.

"That's because you're trying to remember the numbers of too many hot girls," Tim teased.

Dick shook his head and grinned. "Again, the phone does that for you." He elbowed Tim and then started tickling him, just to pass the time. Damian rolled his eyes and dialed Colin's number.

"Colin? This is Damian. My brothers will take us to the arcade."

There was a pause on Damian's end. "How old? Dick's in his twenties."

A loud and excited "Excellent" burst from the phone, causing Dick to cease his tickling and focus on Damian's conversation.

"Will Dick take us to Chuck E Cheese?" Colin asked. Unluckily for Damian, Colin had been talking extremely loudly and Dick and Tim overheard everything.

"Yes!" Dick shouted excitedly. "We haven't been to Chuck E Cheese in forever!"

"He'll take us," Damian ground into the phone. Going to the arcade with Dick and Tim would have been bad enough, but Chuck E Cheese? He just hoped his brothers didn't embarrass him too much.

"Bruce!"

"Come in, Dick." Bruce was seated at his desk in the study, going over Wayne Enterprises paperwork.

"Tim and I are taking Damian and his little friend to Chuck E Cheese's." Dick gave Bruce a toned-down version of the puppy-dog eyes, just to ensure things went his way.

Bruce looked a tad surprised. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yeah, why not? Little D said you wouldn't let him go to the arcade with his friend. I figured it was an issue of supervision, so I offered to go. Then his friend wanted to go to Chuck E Cheese's instead, since they've got an over-eighteen going now." He pointed at himself.

"All right," Bruce said, taking out his wallet. He pulled out a wad of twenties and fifties and handed it to Dick. "That should be $200, but count it and check."

"We are just going to Chuck E Cheese, not the Diamond Exchange," Dick commented as he accepted the cash.

"You couldn't buy anything for only $200 at the Diamond Exchange," Bruce replied. "Besides you'll need pizza to feed four boys."

"That's like two pizzas, not a dozen! I realize Chuck E Cheese is a bit overpriced, but still."

"Just take the money."

Dick counted out the cash. "It's $220," he said, offering back one of the twenty-dollar bills.

Bruce waved it off. "Keep it. Have fun. Just make sure Damian doesn't have any cola. I don't approve of soft drinks for youngsters."

Dick sighed, remembering many a pizza-party with the Teen Titans in which he had been forced to drink water while the rest had pop. "Okay."

"To be honest, I'd prefer it if none of you had any cola," Bruce smirked.

"Awww, Bruce, I'm an adult and I don't get that jittery anymore!"

"Just the same, you with any amount of jitters is not exactly fun."

"Fine." Dick stuck the money Bruce had generously provided in his wallet. "Can I take the Porsche 911?"

"Yes."

Dick did a little jig of joy and headed for the door.

"And, Dick, don't let Damian bring home any obnoxious arcade toys."

I guess next will be fun times at Chuck E Cheese. I feel like this has probably been done before (although I haven't read any specific stories), so apologizes if I encroach on anybody's turf.

Does Damian have a little friend in the comics named Colin? I thought I saw that somewhere, but it doesn't really matter. Damian's friend is more of a plot device in this tale.

And isn't it weird that you have to have someone over-18 with you to get into Chuck E Cheese? Seems like you should need to have an under-18 to get in.