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Dick stood idly in the elevator, watching half-heartedly as the floor number slowly rose, finally letting out a loud beep as it stopped at his and Damian’s penthouse.
Dick had dropped Damian off at school half an hour ago, and after Damian got home, Dick planned to take him to a new restaurant Barbara had recommended for dinner.
For now, however, Dick wanted to sleep for a few more hours and then make something for lunch.
When the doors slid open, Dick stepped inside the foyer, keys still in hand, and could already feel that something was wrong. With a ding, the elevator doors closed, prompting Dick to hang his keys and turn down the hall.
Sitting innocently halfway down was an open can, one Dick was positive he had opened and thrown away the night previous while preparing dinner. He stepped towards it, picking it up and continuing into the living room.
As his eyes looked over the scene that lay before him, Dick knew exactly who the culprit was. Trash had been dragged from the kitchen and was now scattered carelessly around the sitting area. The coffee table, which had once housed the remotes and a magazine that Damian had gifted him (It held a rather unflattering photo of Dick on the front page), was lying on the floor, edges chewed.
The books on the bookshelf had stayed in place, but the many trinkets and framed photos that accompanied them had not, either knocked over on the shelf or off and onto the floor. Dick frowned at one particular picture frame, which had shattered, with little pieces of glass covering the floor.
Dick turned on his heel to peer into the kitchen, which hadn’t fared much better. The trash can was overturned, the contents dragged out of it, and spread out between the two rooms. The stack of mail on the counter had been thrown everywhere, and the placemats on top of the table were all on the floor as well.
Accompanying everything she had knocked over and torn up was Alfred, who was lying out amid her crime scene. Surrounded by ribbons of shredded paper towels, she stared up at Dick with giant yellow eyes.
Dick let out a heavy sigh, glaring down at the cat, “I’m gonna sell you.” He muttered glumly, walking over to the coat closet and fishing out the broom.
He walked back to the kitchen, setting up the trash can, and then marched into the living room to sweep up the mess of glass first. Once the glass was safely removed and thrown away, Dick started to pick up the bigger pieces of trash Alfred had strewn throughout the house. After gathering everything in the living room, Dick returned to the kitchen, sending another hard look to Alfred, who had moved on top of the counter and was watching him, tail flicking behind her.
Dick held his hand out, and she was quick to stand and walk over, rubbing against his knuckles and meowing happily when he stroked down her back.
While petting her, Dick propped up the fallen salt and pepper shakers, then began gathering the placemats, setting them back on the table.
After the mail was all back in its original spot and the rest of the trash and paper towel strips were swept up and tossed into the trash can, Dick returned to the living room, Alfred hot on his heels, trying to rub against his calves as he moved.
He collected the fallen trinkets, setting all of them back up. Then, after scooping up the magazine and remotes, Dick tossed them onto the coffee table, then quickly grabbed Alfred off the floor and began walking down the hall.
She meowed at him, paws pressing against his chest as she tried to push herself up towards his face. Dick rubbed a hand down her side, pressing a short kiss into her head as he opened his bedroom door, sitting down on the bed and letting Alfred leave his lap.
Dick took his shoes off, kicking them to the other side of the room, and then laid back onto the bed, grabbing his phone out of his pocket to set an alarm to wake him up after a few hours of sleep. As Dick settled, Alfred stood from her spot, balancing on the end of his bedframe, crawling over to his side, and lying down once Dick stopped adjusting, a loud purr beginning in her chest.
Dick set his hand on her side, peeking down at her.
“You’re lucky you’re so sweet,” Dick said, hand rubbing small circles into her fur, “and that Damian would kill me if I fed you to a dog for trashing my house.”
Alfred blinked at him slowly, then turned onto her back, head resting against his ribcage.
Dick just smiled, hand moving to rest on her stomach as Dick closed his eyes.
Dick tapped his finger on the steering wheel, eyes watching the sidewalk for Damian to appear. School had been out for five minutes, and Dick was counting on Damian to come stalking out of the crowd within the next thirty seconds like usual.
Dick spared a glance at the car’s clock, and when he looked up, Damian was staring at him as he walked over, hands grasping the straps of his backpack.
Dick gave Damian a large smile when Damian slid into the backseat, waiting for Damian to get into his seat and buckle before pulling out of the parking spot.
“How was school?”
“Fine,” Damian mumbled, hands digging through his backpack to pull out a sheet of paper, “They want to take us to the zoo next week. I need you to sign this.”
Dick looked at Damian through the rearview mirror, watching as Damian skimmed over the permission slip.
“I’ll get it signed once we get back. Are you excited? I know you like the zoo.”
Damian sighed, “I suppose. However, deciding to take a field trip to an outdoor zoo two weeks into January does not seem smart.”
“Huh. I didn’t really think of that.”
“Of course not,” Damian said, shoving the paper back into his backpack and then crossing his arms, “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you think before.”
“Uh-huh,” Dick remarked dryly, “I’m sure you could think something up.”
“Nope.” Damian popped immediately, “Not once have you said something thoughtful, nor have you been either mature or responsible.”
“Not mature? Not responsible?!” Dick let out a laugh, “I had to clean half the apartment today because your cat trashed it! I’d consider that responsible.”
“No, you did not.”
Dick laughed again, glancing at Damian through the mirror again, sending him a smile that Damian just frowned at.
“Oh, I absolutely did. Dumped the trash, tore up the paper towels, knocked all kinds of stuff down.”
“You have no evidence. Alfred has not once acted out of order; she would not start now.”
Dick snorted, a grin on his face, “Well, I’m happy to show you the shattered picture frame she knocked over.”
“Just because you believe it to be acceptable to attempt acrobatics in the house, does not mean you should blame a cat. It’s unbecoming.”
Dick barked out a laugh, shaking his head fondly.
Dick was awoken by something smashing into his bedroom door hard enough to echo through the apartment.
“What the—!?”
Scrambling footsteps tore down the hall, disappearing into the living room.
Dick sat up just as Damian’s door could be heard opening. A few seconds later, Dick’s door flew open, Damian’s silhouette appearing in the doorway.
“What is wrong with her?!” Damian demanded, hair tousled with sleep.
Before Dick could answer, he and Damian both turned to look in the direction of the living room when something else crashed to the ground. Following the crash, Alfred ran back up the hall, rushing into Dick’s bedroom instead of hitting the door.
Dick could barely make out her small form, but he could hear her bouncing around, hair raised on her back, tail puffed out comically big. A few seconds later, she was bounding out again, racing past Damian.
“Still don’t believe she could have trashed the apartment?” Dick asked, lips quirking upwards.
“She is clearly distressed!” Damian said sharply, head swiveling to face Dick, “That is not the same!”
Another loud thump sounded throughout the penthouse, followed by a drawn-out meow.
“She does not normally act like this.”
Dick hummed in response.
Damian frowned at Dick, his hand coming up quickly to point an accusing finger at him, “You must have done something!”
Dick gave Damian a look, “I was asleep.”
“Earlier,” Damian quickly corrected, taking a step forward, “You must have changed her food.”
“You know very well that her food is in your room and that you feed her. Did you change her food?”
“No!”
“Then why was that your first thought?” Dick laughed.
Damian frowned, face only softening when Alfred entered the room again, much calmer this time, meowing loudly at Dick and Damian.
Damian leaned over, picking Alfred up and cradling her in his arms, eyes snapping back to Dick.
“You did something,” Damian said, a hand stroking over Alfred’s ears.
“Uh-huh,” Dick replied, sinking back into his pillow.
“Cats are creatures of routine.” Damian continued, “You are careless with routine and consistency; Therefore, something must have happened, and only you were home!”
“All I did was clean up her mess,” Dick said, then smirked, “oh—and cuddled with her.”
Damian’s eyes sharpened, “You moved the furniture.”
Dick barked out a laugh, reaching over to grab his extra pillow to weakly throw it at Damian, who swiftly swatted it away.
“Damian—” Dick laughed, “Go walk into the living room and tell me if I moved the furniture or not.”
Alfred meowed again, and Damian took a step back, “And now you’ve scared her. I knew you did something.”
Damian spun on his heel; Alfred tightly held to his chest while he exited the room, Dick’s laughter petering off.
Dick settled back into his pillow, breathing in deeply and then huffing out one last laugh.
A few minutes later, right before Dick fell asleep, he heard Damian from his bedroom down the hall.
“Alfred, do not—!”
Dick snorted.