Work Text:
The Great Waffle War
Unassuming: She couldn’t believe it. Cassandra greedily poured the last of the maple syrup over her freshly made waffle. It was as if she was watching her own life-blood ooze all over Bab’s tacky plastic Nightwing plates. Horror rung from the depth of Stephanie’s lungs. Barbara nearly dropped hot coffee in her lap.
Deprived: Stephanie turned down her volume on her headset. Barbara was livid. She knew she shouldn’t have eaten the last of Cass’ chocolate ice cream. And she sure as hell shouldn’t have left the empty container on the girl’s pillow with the batarang jutting out of its side. But then again, damn the bitch who’d dare to get between her and breakfast.
Plot: Cassandra Cain did not have a vindictive bone in her body. She’d forgiven her father (both of them). She’d even forgiven her mother. But that did not stop her from removing the screws from the waffle iron in the kitchenette.
Seriously: Helena was flabbergasted. Stephanie was cradling the top half of the defunct waffle iron in her arms like a child, her mouth emitting wails that could rival the Silver Banshee. Cassandra stood stifling her sobs with a determined expression. But the swipes at her glassy, red eyes couldn’t stem the overflow of emotions ebbing within her. Both girls betrayed and hurt. Helena fled - unseen and (thankfully) unnoticed.
Alike: Climbing in through the Watchtower window, a delightfully familiar scent enveloped Batgirl’s nose. She followed it and it lead her to the kitchenette where Alfred helped Cassandra pour batter into a new iron. The man offered a friendly greeting and gestured to a plate of still-hot waffles awaiting her on the tale. Cassandra appeared at her side with a a bottle of syrup tied off with a pink bow. Laughing baldly, Stephanie produced a still frozen container of chocolate ice cream from her cape; a cut-out of a little black bat holding a heart decorating hers.