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redflagshipwriter · 3 months ago

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Chef Beef part 1 of 2

inspired by this post.

Part 2

Jason squinted at his laptop screen. It turned into a confused scowl. “What,” he said, “the hell are they saying?”

Perturbed, he slammed the thing shut. Whatever! He didn’t need validation from viewers. He turned to finish cleaning up his kitchen. He had scrubbed everything down on camera, but the dishes still needed to be put away and he had to shut his kitchen for the night.

His nighttime phone pinged. It wasn’t the Bat business one, at least. He hesitated.

Fuck. It probably wasn’t important. But what if it was, though?

Jason heaved a massive, dramatic sigh. He put the mixing bowl back and then dug the phone out to check. It was just the stupid intergenerational Titans group chat. The first message flicked away before he could read it, replaced by a series of fire emojis and a…drooling face? Yuck. Superboy was a lot.

Jason screwed his face up in disgust and dismissed the notification without reading. Tim’s grungy little friends continued to be off-putting gremlins.

Kori chimed in with a series of hearts and flexing arm emojis.

Yeah, okay, the topic definitely wasn’t important. Goddamn social media. He just didn’t get it.

He didn’t check the video comments again until the next day, curled up in an armchair stolen from Wayne Manor. It was vigilante morning, also known as noon. He tucked his feet into the seam where the cushion met the back of the chair and took a long sip of steaming tea. Thus fortified, he typed in his password and loaded up the video he had done yesterday.

“...Huh.” He opened up his phone to do a quick search on what it meant to go live. Jason ran a hand through his hair and thought it over.

The top comments were begging him to livestream, not post after he was done. That seemed… Well, it seemed social. He pursed his lips and stalled for thinking time with more tea. Part of the reason he was doing this was to motivate himself to cook more, but putting it online, he had to admit, could only stem from a desire for some sort of attention and connection.

Ew. Jason put that bit of self reflection somewhere far away where it couldn’t hurt him, and started thinking about how to change his setup.

“One week,” he told himself. “I’ll do that for a week and see how I feel about it.”

Monday

12:07PM

Jason set up a laptop on the counter so he could see any comments while he streamed.

“Not that I’ll get comments.” He wasn’t doing anything that special. Embarrassed even alone, Jason got busy setting up. Ingredients in place and oven preheated, he started the livestream.

He waited.

Then he felt stupid. Probably no one was going to come. So he pulled over his cutting board and held up his first ingredient. “I,” he said to no one, “am going to make the best quiche you sorry motherfuckers have ever seen.” He pointedly twirled the cutting board and glanced back at the screen just in time to see notifications that people were joining.

“I’m making a quiche now,” Jason reiterated. “Best goddamn thing you’ll see all day, so make a note.”

He blinked. “Can I crush the onion in my hand?” He repeated, brow furrowing at the screen. “It would be unusable, Caitlin15.” He hefted the onion. “This beautiful motherfucker needs to be diced into perfect pieces.”

Perplexingly, that didn’t stop it. More viewers chimed in. “Uhh,” Jason said. Was this some kind of streaming social norm? “…I only have one onion. I can crush this instead?” He reached over and pulled out a carrot from the basket on the far end of the counter.

The screen erupted in all caps. He squinted. Did it have meaning? It looked like gibberish.

“Seems like a yes.” Well. Whatever. Jason crushed the carrot to a mush in his hand, catching the end that fell. He let the mush fall into the bowl he had meant for the onion. Thoughtlessly, he snapped off a bit of the carrot with his teeth and braced a forearm on the counter in front of the camera. “You gonna behave now?” He asked the stream, making sure to level an unimpressed expression to his viewers. “Sit the fuck down and listen.”

The screen erupted with ear emojis and weird dramatic shit like, “I am seated, King. 👑” Someone purchased a … sticker? What the hell? What was the point of that?

…Alright. He picked up the carrot mash bowl and considered it. “Might be making a carrot cake or bread later,” he said. “I can’t stand waste.” He shifted it out of the way and stretched up to get a new bowl from the storage up high. When he looked back down he saw there was a flurry of “six pack alert” messages and more notifications of people buying ‘stickers.’

He wheeled around to see what they must have– behind him was a collection of bottles. They were not alcohol.

“I don’t drink!” Jason snarled. “My body is a goddamn temple. No fuckin beer here.” He leveled a finger at the screen.

That first stream went alright. He got a lot of subscriptions off of it, which probably at least meant that some people liked it. Jason closed his laptop with the vague impression that things were going to be alright.

He was washing up when someone knocked on the door. Jason shook his hands twice to flick off water and then dried them with the hand towel. He threw it over his shoulder on the way to open the door. “Dick.” He opened the door, one eyebrow raised. “Everything alright?”

Dick pushed his way in, wearing his beat cop uniform. He had his pretty boy smile on, but Jason saw right through that. That fucker wanted money. “Hey, Jay!” He sniffed his way to the kitchen. “I, uh, heard you have a cooking thing going on, how’s that going?”

Hm. Alright, maybe he wanted free food, the goddamn hyena.

“How do you know this shit?” He wondered fondly. “Creep.”

Dick grimaced and put a hand to his head. “Roy showed me.” Dick sounded like he was in pain. Fair enough. That was a reasonable reaction to Roy Harper.

Jason closed the door and watched his sort-of-brother scavenge around the apartment. “Want some quiche?” He cast his thoughts back. “Oh, I have carrot bread.”

Dick gave him a slightly harried smile. “Oh, I heard about that. Crushing the carrot made an impression.”

Jason blinked.

They looked at each other.

“Are you watching my streams?” Jason asked slowly. “Hey, I’ve been getting a lot of slang in the comments I don’t know.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled to the list he had compiled. “People keep commenting ATE, in all caps. But I’m not eating.”

Dick stared off into the air mournfully. “It… It means you’re doing a great job. It’s not about food.”

Jason nodded. “Noted,” he murmured to himself. “Uh, raw?” He tried to make eye contact. “People send me that, also in all caps. But obviously I am cooking my goddamn food, that is the whole premise.”

Dick screwed up his face in pain and stuffed half a roll into his mouth to avoid answering. “Buddy,” he said through a mouthful of food, “I don’t want to tell you the details. But your watchers think you’re hot. That’s the gist of it.”

Jason stared at him. “...They think I’m hot,” he echoed slowly. “I am hanging out in my pajamas and cooking. I am being sloppy and rude. I call them names,” he pointed out.

Dick’s face twitched. “Yeah, some of them are into that. But also your whole…” He gestured vaguely up and down Jason’s body. “The t-shirt and sweats work for you.” He looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. “I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re comfortable and safe. Having fans is kinda a lot sometimes.”

Jason snorted. “It’s not like I’m modeling like you or Kori did,” he pointed out.

“It’s not that dissimilar.” Dick rolled his neck. “Lemme see your account?”

Jason hesitated. “Why?”

“I bet you’ve gotten sponsor messages.”

He snorted. “Yeah right.” He handed the phone over and watched over Dick’s shoulder. “…Didn’t know there were messages on this app.” His eyebrows crawled upward. “These people want to give me money?”

“You need a manager,” Dick said promptly. “And a moderator to crack down on the horny comments.”

Jason physically recoiled.

“That’s what I thought,” Dick said wryly. “I can get you a mod for free. I’ll manage your account for a modest 50% of your profit.”

“Bullshit,” said Jason, despite thinking he’d make no money. “That can’t be the going rate for a manager. Fuck you. I’m going to ask Kory what she pays her manager.” He snatched back his phone and DMd her his question. “And why would anyone mod for free?”

“A loser would do it,” said Dick. “And I know just the motivated loser. Anyway, how would you feel about doing a separate livestream where you eat?” He stuffed quiche in his mouth and talked around it. “Lonely people like that, they pretend they’re having a meal together. It’s a public service, Jaybird.”

“Who on this goddamn earth would want to pretend they were eating with me?” Jason wondered.

Dick eyed him. “Who indeed.” He sniffed. “I’ll do it for 30%, if you are gonna be so cold about it. I’m not in it for the money, I’m your brother,” he wheedled.

“Your shitty cop job doesn’t pay for your lunches,” Jason said flatly. “Go get money from Bruce.”

“Never.” Dick shoved the last of the quiche in his mouth so violently he actually choked. “Gotta go. I have your passwords now, I’ll set up sponsorships and pay out your stickers.”

“Pay out what?” Jason asked, bemused.

“My break is 30 minutes,” Dick hollered over his shoulder. “Gotta get back to 3rd in the next 4 seconds.”

“…You are a mess.” Jason watched Dick whirlwind out of his apartment less than five minutes after entering to steal his food and money he didn’t even know he had. “You’re gonna be at least ten minutes late.”

“It’s fine, I’m ungovernable.” His footsteps thumped rapidly down the apartment stairs. A car tire screeched outside. A police siren started up and rapidly faded.

Jason sighed. “Dinner with lonely people, huh?” He eyed his apartment. “I guess I could set up the table there…”

Tuesday

12:51PM

“Good morning,” Jason greeted the camera. “Yeah, yeah, it’s one pm. I just got up, so sue me.” He took a pointed sip of his morning drink. It was coffee this time. “I,” he said pointedly, “had a long night. And I need some comfort. So we are starting the day with cinnamon rolls.” He gestured to his oven. “I already have the first batch cooked and cooled, so you can see me ice it and eat.” He rolled his shoulders. “First, this bowl is going to be for my wet ingredients-” He blinked. “I don’t need a new bowl. I- why do you hate this bowl?” He tilted it, perplexed. “Do you all— okay, look, I’ll show you all my bowls and you will acknowledge the superiority of this particular bowl for this task.” Shaking his head, he extended up as far as he could reach to get the rest of the bowls down.

“...I still do not drink,” Jason scowled. He felt confused and vaguely uncomfortable. “Stop saying that, I don’t like it.”

The chat listened, so whatever. He whipped up this batch of cinnamon rolls, set it to proof, and then got out his finished rolls to show the screen. “We need to make the frosting for these, but I am excited.” He let his voice rasp. “It’s gonna be way more than I can eat, but…” He shrugged. “Hey, meat? Why are you sending meat emojis– I can do you a good meaty dish tomorrow. Roast?” He brainstormed. “Steak, maybe, oh hell yeah, HawaiiHunk, I could use some meat in me too,” he agreed. “Tomorrow, yup, you and me.”

He cleared his throat and set out his supplies. “But first, let’s get that frosting.”

20 minutes later, once he had licked the frosting off his spoon, Jason showed a single perfect roll to the camera. “I’m going to sign off and have my breakfast now,” he said. Someone called GOATman said, “good job, it looks delicious.” He flashed them a smile.

“And then I guess I gotta find someone to shovel off my spare rolls to. Wish me luck.” He turned the stream off without checking what they were actually saying.

Wednesday

5:00 am

“Jason.”

He stifled a shriek. “You’re an asshole.” Jason swore. He threw the shower curtain aside violently to glare at Tim. “I’m getting ready for bed, you little shit. You still follow my patrols?”

Tim stared at him with big, resentful eyes. There were bruises under both of them. “I heard you made cinnamon rolls. Heard a lot about that. Something about a carrot, too.”

“...Yeah.” Jason frowned at him. What a weird thing to say. “Did you get a concussion?”

“Put your clothes on,” Tim groused. He pushed himself off the counter and sauntered out of the room, as if he wasn’t the weirdo who had snuck into Jason’s home after patrol, followed him into the bathroom, and waited there.

Jason pulled on a t-shirt and shorts and made his way out to see Tim’s baleful stare. “What,” he said gently, “the fuck?” He made a shoo gesture. “I didn’t say I was open to strays.”

“Should I tell Kon that he isn’t getting any of your cinnamon rolls or quiche?” Tim said waspishly.

Jason reeled a bit. Kon? Leather jacket Superboy? The hell did he have to do with anything?

There was a more salient point to address.

‘Why does he know what I’ve been cooking?’

Jason pointed at him. “You’re creeping on me again. Do you have an alert set for anytime I send a text?” He sneered. “And yeah, I am not cooking for you or your friends. Besides, the quiche is gone.”

Tim let out a violent huff. “I wish I heard less about you.” He waved a hand. “But, yeah, Kon can give up any hope?”

“What,” said Jason, “the Hell are you talking about?” He frowned. “Hope for what? Does he wanna learn to cook or something?”

He momentarily considered that. Kon was a C list celebrity. That was exactly the type of guy you might invite as a guest to your livestream.

Tim eyed him. Jason stared back. “Nothing.” Tim rolled his eyes. “To be very clear, you would never for a moment consider Kon as-”

“I never think about the guy,” Jason cut him off. “He’s a nice guy, does good work. But you’re being so fuckin weird. Take the plate of cinnamon rolls over there and get the fuck out of my house.”

Once Tim had been shoved out the door, Jason went to bed. He woke up again at 1 in the afternoon and started to set up for his next live stream.

That was a lie.

He intended to wake up at 1. Instead, he sat up from a dead sleep at 10:32 am when Dick banged on his door, dragging along his dumb cop partner and an armful of shitty coffees.

“I hate you,” Jason croaked. He wiped the protein from his eyes and snatched a drink.

“Everyone does,” commented the other cop.

Dick snorted a laugh, but both of them looked at her. “Why are you here, pig?” Jason asked pointedly.

She sniffled. “Oink, oink,” she said pointedly, and stole a cinnamon roll off the counter. “Because prettyboy is taking a break from ending the corruption of the Bludhaven cops in order to benefit from the corruption of the Bludhaven cops by selling access to his shitty little brother online.” She peeled the cinnamon roll open.

Dick pointed at her. “Amy, you said you’d be nice to me.”

She took a very large bite of her cinnamon roll and flipped him off with a smile.

“...Fair enough,” Jason said, and turned his tired glare at his shitty elder brother. “Why are you even up this early, I swear you were up as late as I was.”

Dick hefted his ass onto Jason’s clean countertop and ignored the strangled sound he made. “I have an intricate system of micro naps at traffic stops and unimportant meetings. I can get by on as little as two hours of sleep at night.”

“What happens if you miss one?” Jason asked, darkly curious.

“His whole life falls apart,” Amy said, talking with cinnamon roll in her mouth still. Jason gave her a disgusted look.

Dick waved that off. “Anyway, did you see that Kory messaged you? She wants to do a collab.” His brilliant smile faltered for a millisecond. “That would get views.” He smiled winsomely.

“...This hurts you,” Jason observed, reluctantly fascinated. “Why are you doing this? You don’t want me to hang out with your ex-fiance.” He cocked his head to the side. “Have you considered telling her that you want her back?”

“I never look back,” Dick lied breezily. “How about Raven? She’s open to a cooking video. Or.” He looked pained. “Kon. He has been messaging. A lot. He’s watching your streams.”

“...This does seem more Kon’s speed,” said Jason, thinking of all the times he had seen that motherfucker scarf down chilidogs or nachos on camera. “Kind of below Kory, honestly. Raven?” His voice tilted upward in disbelief. “She’s your friend, not mine. Why don’t you do some kind of stream with your friends?” Jason shrugged. “If you like it, I mean.”

“I’m done modeling,” Dick said. “The body shaming really got to me.” He ran a hand up his perfect body and gave a little shrug.

“That also why you’re done with a career as a world-class athlete?” Amy asked wryly. “Your career trajectory is the garbage can. I know why I’m giving parking tickets for 12 dollars an hour, but it’s just insulting that you’re here. Take your shitty Dad’s money.”

“Never,” Dick vowed. “So, collab with Raven? Great! She’ll be here tomorrow at noon.”

“I will kill you!” Jason shouted, but it was no use. The fucker was already halfway out the door.

Amy toasted him with the remainder of the cinnamon roll. “I’ve been making him buy us all donuts with what he’s making from your streams,” she told him.

Jason thought that over. “I guess you’re alright for a pig.”

She saluted him on her way out.

He managed to get a little more sleep before his stream. “I might have a guest tomorrow,” he told his viewers idly as he set up. “Feel free to guess who. My shitty manager is setting it up.”

Some of the world’s worst guesses rolled down the screen– Amanda Waller, President Luthor, Nightwing.

Jason accidentally laughed. “No, uh, none of them.” He snickered. “Think younger.” He blinked. “No, probably not you, HawaiiHunk, you goddamn flirt,” Jason shook his head. “You better watch your ass, I think I have a mod today.”

Someone sent the salute emoji. “That you?” Jason squinted. “GOATman– greatest of all time man?” He snickered. “Everyone is on notice.”

The guy was vicious. The first time HawaiiHunk commented “ur sooo sexi babe,” he got a warning.

A while later the mod said, “This is your final warning.” Jason looked up to see what the poor thirsty idiot had said. He snorted involuntarily when he saw that HawaiiHunk apparently wanted to be the dough. He wanted to see where this was going.

“Ignore himmmmm,” said Sparklefairy. She somehow sent an explosion of glitter over his stream. Dollar emojis scattered.

Jason raised an eyebrow and put some muscle into the bread he was kneading.

‘Are some of them trying to buy my attention?’ he wondered, bemused. ‘Should I tell them I’m an independently wealthy criminal? I feel like I’m tricking them.’

HawaiiHunk typed up, “I’m so wet.”

Jason stuck his tongue out and then shuddered dramatically. “That’s not my business, I don’t need to know that.”

“That’s it,” said GOATman, a fantastic mod. “Blocked.” The official notification appeared a moment later.

“Goodbye, HawaiiHunk.” Jason saluted with a laugh. “And let that be a warning to the rest of you.”

GOATman sent the salute emoji and was immediately copied by others in a flood. Jason had to laugh.

That night, before patrol, Jason sat with a frown, scrolling through his comment section. He barely noticed when Spoiler sat her ass down beside him and started doing her inventory check. He did notice when she leaned into his space to see what he was looking at.

“Dude, what the hell?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. Look at this weird shit people are saying.” He tilted his phone screen. “Raw,” he repeated, disbelievingly. “Raw. My meat is not raw.”

Stephanie choked on air.

“I cook all my meat– I cooked it to 65C.” Jason gestured pointedly.

“What, uh… Are you streaming?” Stephanie looked at him with wild eyes. “So, uh, these are fans?”

He looked at her. “Does it mean something?”

“...Yeah,” she said, after a suspiciously long pause. “It’s slang. They like you.”

“So it’s not about my meat?” Jason clarified.

“It is kind of about your meat.” Stephanie swallowed, hard. “I, uh– I think that we should… We should go. On patrol.” She pushed herself off the ledge and did a flip. “Time to hit the streets.” She flashed him a pretty, toothy smile, and then was gone.

Jason was not an idiot. Stephanie was avoiding telling him something embarrassing.

Whatever. There was something off about it. He had caught that on his own, even if he didn’t know what. Maybe they were mocking him. The concept sent a sick feeling through his gut. But– she wasn’t a liar. It was overall positive, whatever it was.

“It’s gonna be some pop culture shit I missed.” He grimaced. He wasn’t that old, but he felt old as balls sometimes. “I don’t need to be cool.”

That affirmation hanging in the air, he blew out his bangs and then scraped them back so they wouldn’t plaster to his forehead with sweat when he went on patrol. He zipped his jacket closed and swung a leg over his motorcycle. Time to go.

#Jason todd #Jason Todd/Starfire #JayRoy #Kon is dying of thirst #Dick is fixing his credit score #Jason is so out of touch #Bruce is a mod #Bruce would NOT be clueless Bruce knows all the slang #Honestly I find grungy Dick to be so sexy #most competent man in the world hamstrung by his extremely selective pride

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