Fic: A Batclan Christmas Carol 8
Title: A Batclan Christmas Carol - Part VIII
Authors: aiyokusama & vespertila
Prompt: [special prompt #2] Holiday Miracle & T11; P10 Together
Characters: the whole Batclan
Genre: fluff/comedy; a bit of angst; holiday
Rating: PG-13
Words Count: 5258
Summary: When loved ones are near/It's the most wonderful time of the year. -
E. Pola and G. Wyle
The kiss had startled him. Yeah, startled is a good term for it. Wigged out might be better, but Jay isn't willing to admit to that one just yet, he has way to much on his plate as is. Cass had silently headed him to a box of stuff and just as silently indicate that he was to help her with the decorating. Well, that isn't really a chore; she's nice enough and all, not to mention it means he doesn't have to think on everything else that the other members of the house represent.
He reaches into the box and pulls out....a stocking? Huh. This one is Tim's. He spends a few minutes trying to come up with a way to hang it from the mantle without banging nails in the marble. He ends up purloining heavy knickknacks and antiques which he sets on the lip of the fabric. Hopefully whatever gets put into them won't be too heavy. Of course, Alfred will probably have a better solution when he comes back.
The next on one he grabs is Damian's and, with a nasty little smirk, he arranges it next to Tim's. That' sure to piss the annoying little spore off. Stephanie's goes next to the youngest Wayne's and....
He stops, and stares...
At the green fabric, in his hands, the red and white letters spelling out JASON. They, they kept it. His stocking from before, from the two Christmases he'd lived in this house...
Almost curled on the couch, sharing a generous plate of gingerbreads with Steph and Tim, the eldest Robin silently watches Jason. Miracles keep happening today - he can't help but think - for Jason not only has come home and apologized to Tim, but now he's hanging stockings on the fireplace.
Dick half closes his eyes.
Since he was a kid, he always thought of Christmas as a magic day; even if he has learned the hard way, and right since childhood, that life really owns no magic of any sort. Oh, he has witnessed the things that Zatanna and Zatara can do; out of any doubt that's magic. But there's no magic which can bring your parents back from dead. Or a spell which can prevents accidents, or robberies, or violence, or murder from happening. Or a sorcery which can make people reconcile.
That is the kind of magic which dwells nowhere, but in the hearts of people... Dick opens his eyes once more and stands up -- not before having eaten his gingerbread bat up entirely -- and warily approaches Cass and Jason by the fireplace.
Cass looks up at the movement and spies Dick coming their way. She surreptitiously glances over at the distracted second Robin and gives a little nod to Dick in quiet understanding. The two men need this, even if they are both extremely reluctant about taking the first step. She discretely steps back, leaving the pair what privacy could be had in the busy house.
Jason's hands caresses the plush fabric, as a little smile tries to tug the corners of his mouth upwards. Maybe....maybe they hadn't forgotten him?
Dick blinks thoughtfully at the green stocking and then utters, softly, "You kept tearing my own stocking off the mantle..."
Jay's head comes up as he's startled a second time that day. He glances over at Dick and, for a moment, his eyes are wide, then he's trying to cover it. "It's blue," Jay offers. "Blue isn't a Christmas color." The words come out far weaker then he'd meant, as he repeated the argument they had those two years--that are now a life time--ago.
Steph gives Tim a knowing look. Dick and Jason seem about to engage in what is hopefully going to be one of those very sappy family moments. It had better be, since she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Alfred’s ire over bloodstains.
Tim glances first at Steph then his two brothers. Getting up, he reaches for the girl’s hand. Talking will be hard enough for the pair without an audience. Gently he tugs her off the couch and towards the kitchen.
The hint of a smile curves the first Boy Wonder's lips as those old, habitual arguments are unearthed again. "Every time I came home, on Christmas Eve,” Dick mumbles, “I always used to find only your own stocking hanging there". He doesn't mention how much a younger Jason's behavior -- and the resulting feeling of being rejected, of having been replaced -- used to hurt him... "But on the morning after, on Christmas Day, my stocking was there again. Alfred always re-attached it after you had gone to bed..."
Jay nods. "He's... he's sneaky like that...." The words come out soft as before. Dammit! Why can't he speak at a normal volume?! For a moment he searches Dick's face then glances away. Fuck. Who the hell is he kidding? Alfred might want him here, but he doesn't belong.
Dick reaches out a hand and gently slips Jason's stocking from the younger man‘s grasp. With a smooth movement and an amused expression, the young man sticks the green stocking to the mantle, to the left of Tim’s.
"I would call Alfie anything but sneaky," he answers fondly. The old butler always tried hard to make the both of them feel like they were NOT in competition. Too bad he never really managed to convince them.
Jay's heart stop when the stocking is taken but, Dick just hangs it with the rest. He can breath. Really, he can. "He's the sneakiest. He could give lessons to Catwoman." He means it as a joke, but there is much truth there. Bruce might have trained them in various stealth techniques but it's Alfred who demonstrated their day to day value.
"He could give lessons to a real of people," the man comments. Well, that kind of conversation will most likely bring them nowhere, right? All that they've been talking about, right now, is something which belongs to the past - kids' stuff - ain't it?
Jay nods. He heads back to the box and pulls out a blue stocking which he hands over to Dick. There is an absurd sense of ceremony to that gesture. He sighs. "I shouldn't have been such a little prick," he offers. It's easier to talk about the crap form the other life. He can't quite bring himself to deal with the mess he made of this one. Not with Dick, at least.
Dick takes and seems to weight both the stocking and the remark before he attaches the oversize blue sock to the mantle, next to the green one. Now the four boy’s colorful items show all in a row, eldest to youngest Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian.
The young man tilts his head, looking at them. Shouldn't he and Jason be speaking about when the latter showed up in New York and stole his vigilante identity to do rough justice in his name? Or maybe they should talk about when Dick and Tim had a brawl with Jason, because they thought he was Duela's killer? Also, wouldn't Jason's continuous, cruel spites be mentioned there? Or Dick being always fundamentally suspicious about his second brother?
'Damian - Tim - Jason - Dick' he reads silently again.
No -- he ponders to himself, mindlessly caressing the names with his gaze -- he frankly thinks that they shouldn't. Not now. Maybe in months to come. For now, Dick can accept the past as is and look forward. Magic is in the hearts of people and that’s where miracles come from, if people TRULY want them to happen.
"It's nice to see them all together" he offers, smiling a little.
Jay nods, accepting that maybe that meant he was...welcome? If not forgiven.
Then Dick averts his gaze from them stockings and eyes Jason. "Just... don't try and steal my stocking again, okay Little Wing?" he hazards to joke, with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
And that relaxes something tense and horrible deep inside Jason. "I think I can restrain myself."
Teasing accepted, Dick feels not only relieved, but BETTER... even if he knows perfectly well that this can be just the beginning and much time will be needed for the reciprocal wrongs and mistrust to be totally forgiven.
"Good," Dick says and his smile, gradually, becomes a genuine witty smirk. "Because otherwise nobody would restrain me from tying you down and dumping you in the cellar, on THIS Christmas".
Jay raises an eye brow at that, trying to be serious but the tease is obvious. "Had no idea you were into bondage, Goldie."
"Oh, I'm full of surprises," Dick counters slyly.
The two young man stare at each other for the length of an unnaturally elongated second. Then Dick moves to squeeze Jason's shoulder. Just that.
Jay glances up and there is hope in his face, skeptical and guarded, but still there. He nods slowly.
* * *
As Damian goes through the dining room aiming for the kitchen (he decided to avoid the hall, because he really doesn't want to see Grayson and the smelly ox trying to pathetically fraternize), he can't help but notice that the room in question has been arranged and properly decorated to no doubt accommodate a sumptuous dinner. For far too many.
The kid smirks to himself. His father will throw the intruders out, just as soon as he comes home. And he REALLY can't wait for that moment to arrive. Damian pushes the secondary swinging door open and duly, his face darkens at the sight of the Whiner and his obnoxious girlfriend.
Alfred is around....somewhere. Tim has no idea where exactly, but the man has a lot of things already half-done and easily completed when the last of their guests arrive. Tim could, of course, make more cookies, but they have enough of those last a light time, or at least three days. So instead he has enlisted Steph’s help to make Empanadas. The spicy savoury taste of the meat and raisin-filled puff pastries should balance out things nicely.
The beef is simmering, the pastry is ready, but they are missing the final ingredient. "Steph? Do you see the raisins?" If one of the others stole his bag of sweet blonde raisins there will be hell to pay, Christmas or no.
Sitting with both of her knees on a stool, Steph looks around, but it's not easy to find something in the organized, but cluttered mess, the Brainy Robin has turned the kitchen into. "Nope," the girl finally answers.
Turning towards the girl, Tim spots Damian. Okay, be nice, don't accuse. "Something you're looking for?" He asks. That....almost sounded cordial.
"Only you out of here," the child snaps back, aiming for the fridge. One of the first things he learned at the Manor -- not without complaints from his part -- is that if he wants something, he has to go and get it himself, for Alfred is NO slave.
Steph intercepts Tim's eyes and comically rolls her eyes at him: brotherly love galore...
Tim sighs and shakes his head. "Guess you don't want any Empanadas, then," he says with mock regret.
Damian resurfaces from the fridge, a carafe of water in his hands, and states nasally: "I don't ANYTHING which comes from you".
Steph decides to busy herself elsewhere and stretches over the crowded table to sort the supplies and try to locate Tim's raisins as the child gives her a wide birth, trying to reach for the dishwasher and the clean glasses.
"Too bad," Tim says over his shoulder, as he reaches into the oven for the tray of butter tarts Alfred had asked him to keep an eye on.
"Tim?" Steph's voice comes right at that moment. "I found your silly raisins," she announces, grabbing a package and lifting it. She has barely the time to perceive her knuckles banging into something else before there is a thump. And a white cloud of fine, white powder.
Tim manages to put the tray safely on the counter to cool when the mishap occurs. Ah well. It was bound to happen at some point. He can't help but smile at the sound of Steph spluttering.
When the cloud of flour thins out, the sight offered to the two teenagers is both appalling and ludicrous: Damian stands right there, as he was frozen - with his glass and the carafe, whose content now vaguely resembles to milk - his frontal section utterly floury, from head to feet.
"Gee..." Steph winces, smelling HUGE trouble ahead...
Tim moves closer to the pair.
"It was an accident..." Oh, this is going to get messy fast, in more ways then one, if the child's expression is anything to judge by.
An accident?! The kid's eyes snap open and flash with anger. "You... YOU are an ACCIDENT!" Damian booms. He could easily reach for the knives, but luckily he doesn't. Instead he throws the dense, slimy contents of the chilled carafe against the two.
Both Tim and Steph gasp out aloud when the unpleasantly cold mixture of flour and water hits them.
*
At the indignant howls, Jay's head goes up and he's already running for he kitchen. It sounds like Damian is in a full on rage, which would be bad.
Dick turns on his heels and rushes to the kitchen right after Jay.
Cass blinks at the running bodies and follows, but doesn't get in the way of the boys going first.
*
Tim says nothing but he glares at the little bastard. If would be liveable if this is the worst of it. That thought, however, is dashed as he sees the furious child reach of the bowl of custard filling.
"JERK!" Steph cries out and she's fast to steal the bowl from under the kid, sticks her hand in the filling and slops a handful right on Damian's nose.
Tim horror remains, but now it's turned on Stephanie, as well as warring with the
desire to laugh outright. "Steph!"
Seething with rage, Damian SLOWLY rubs his face clean. He's fuming so much, that he looks about ready to puff steam out of his ears.
"Oh, he deserved that!" Stephanie retorts, but her tone is more an amused burble than a real snap.
Tim pinches the bridge of his nose and prays for patience. This is, of course, why he doesn't see the next barrage coming.
Damian darts a punch to the bottom of the bowl and the large container seems to suddenly revolt against any rules of gravity, because it flies upward and onward, spinning and rolling, spewing long and wild splatters of custard filling, practically, EVERYWHERE.
Jason barrels through the kitchen's door just in time to get splattered with the gooey mass. And to add injury to insult, the bowl smacked into his shoulder. Oh you've GOT to be kidding!
"SPORE!" he roars and charges in, grabbing the nearest condiment which just happens to be a squeeze bottle of mustard. Ready, aim....FIRE! Right at the boy’s seething face. Or it would have been if he hadn’t slipped on a goddamned egg yoke! Aw, crap!
Damian is very quick to throw himself down and dodge the squirt of mustard. Dick frowns - following the action, which is quickly turning frantic and unpredictable - and then darts, as he notices the child crawling for the knife case. He catches the floury little prince by the waist and lifts him up, before the latter can grab a blade.
"Nonono, oh touchy one! Daddy told you to play nice to the other kids, remember?" the first Robin admonishes.
"SHUT UP!" Damian thunders, trying to hit Dick to his stomach. "Yeah! Shut up Dick!" Stephanie smirks, gathering a solid splotch of the filling - which has been running down her visage - and slinging it squarely into Dick's face.
"Steph!" Tim yells a second too late and tries to grab her arms in the name of restraining her. "Enough!"
"Oh jeez Tim, SHUT UP too!" Steph grins, grabbing blindly a squeeze bottle of mayonnaise and spattering Tim's face and sweater. "And LET YOURSELF GO for ONCE!" she snickers.
Meanwhile, Jason picked himself up, pivoting as he tries to follow Damian; and before he can stop himself, his hand is already spraying the contents of his weapon all over the boy....and the man holding him. Uh....oops?
Cass is standing in the dubious safety of the doorway, watching all this with an amused but very bewildered expression. Is this another Christmas tradition?
Tim splutters and grabs the mayonnaise turning it back on Steph, making VERY sure to spray it down her top. The blonde lets out a ringing squeal in response. No, he isn't smiling -- Tim tells himself -- Nope, not at all!
Dick gasps and smacks his lips: his face is now a gorgeous stain of custard filling AND mustard gifted with a pair of blue eyes. "O-KAY!” he exclaims. His arm releases Damian “No blades, no blunt instruments. Seasonings are more befitting to the Season.” He instructs his younger brother. Then his right hand grabs the utility spray valve. “Now Little Wing, here's to us!"
"Shit!" Jay is running for the door but there is a body in his way. Well, that's okay. He grabs Cass and spins her, so that Dick is soaking the Asian girl. This of course gets a startled spluttering sound from her and she holds up her hands to fend of the spray...
* * *
Alfred is down in the Cave, waiting patiently for the Batplane to arrive. The computer altered him 5 minutes ago of the incoming vehicle’s proximity to its destination. And no, he's not going to allow the man to stay down in his dank Cave, which he no doubt would be inclined to do, if left to his own devices.
The Batwing slips inside the cavern without a sound and wavers over the floor, before gradually starting the intricate landing manoeuvre.
Alfred waits on the sidelines for it to power down. Only then does he approach the marvel of engineering. With hands at his sides, he waits for Bruce to appear.
With a hissing sound, the canopy of the Batplane splits open and Batman gets up, moving out of the vehicle in a liquid - yet martial - motion. "I hope you'll to explain me, what is going on," Bruce opens, half serious and - can it be? - half amused, addressing to the butler.
"What's to explain, Sir? It's Christmas Eve and your family requires your presence," the butler reproaches mildly, his expression utterly calm as always.
Bruce removes the cowl, for his skeptical expression to be fully exposed.
"ALL of your family," Alfred emphasizes meaningfully.
"I heard that part the first time, Alfred," the billionaire walks to one of hidden wardrobes to put away the cape and the cowl. Bruce definitely is still NOT willing to pardon Alfred for having arranged such a masterpiece of a trap for him.
Alfred sighs. "Do you really require another reason, Master Bruce?"
Bruce finally turns around, his mouth stretches in a ironic line: "Not after you manipulated me so well." After all, one of a warrior's better qualities is the ability to recognize the superior skills of his opponent.
Alfred sniffs with mock affront. "I would never stoop to such underhanded machinations."
“Don't be modest now," Bruce quirks an eyebrow at the butler.
One corner of the old man’s mouth threatens to twitch upward. "'Your family is here and you should be as well. There is no more elaborate explanation for it."
The billionaire this time gives the butler the tiniest of the smirks and approaches the elder man to grasp his shoulder. "This is another of those days in which I'm glad you're on OUR side," he relates gravely, yet meaning every word of it.
The man permits himself a little smile. "As you should be, as you should be..." He's about to suggest they head up, when the Batcomputer starts howling a warning. The sensors within the Manor have registered a large scale disturbance in the kitchen.
Bruce's smirk is fast to vanish, as he turns around to the console and activates the system of closed circuit cameras.
The screen flares to life to show...a dark something. There are sounds of a fight and squealing voices, as well as many things being thrown and thumping into things, some of them possibly bodies!
Bruce shoots a quick, piercing glance at Alfred, from over his shoulder, then he's off, up the staircase, aiming for the kitchen.
Alfred pelts after him, doing a good job of keeping pace with the younger man.
A warlike, piercing shriek coming from the behind the swinging door, urges the billionaire to hurry his pace and throw the door open.
Alfred is right beside him, fearing that tempers have indeed flared. But no, they aren't killing each other. They are instead doing something much worse. Six young people are in the kitchen, flinging various substances at one another and--oh Dear Lord!--Dick is making good use of the sink's utility spray nozzle to defend the area he has claimed as his own.
Stephanie has Damian howling in a headlock, about to smush something that might have been a tart at one point into the child’s face. Jason is flailing--laughing?!--on the floor with Cass straddling his back and doing SOMETHING to his feet, while Tim is trying to use a serving tray to ward off the water his older brother is spaying.
Then everything stops and all eyes turn, rather guiltily to the open door.
It looks like that for once, one of the butler's clever strategies has been turned against him...“Well.” Bruce's voice comes calm, but streaked with undeniable, strictly suppressed evil glee as he addresses his old friend. “It shouldn't be too much of a bother to you to cook another Christmas Eve dinner, right?” He carefully keeps his gaze on the occupants of the kitchen now turned into a battlefield, for if he moved around to look at Alfred, Bruce would probably laugh and spoil the effect. “I've heard it's usually served around midnight. So you're plenty of time...”
Alfred sighs, his shoulders slumping in mock defeat. "Indeed sir. No trouble at all." He surveys the disarray that is the kitchen. Oh, he is very thankful the turkey and ham, at least, are safely cooking in the ovens.
With the heel of his hand Dick rubs the tip of his nose clean, flashing a
dazzling smile at Bruce. "Welcome back," he cheers, and really he couldn't be any more shameless if he tried.
Encouraged by Dick's cheekiness, Stephanie lets Damian go and adds, "And Merry Xmas!" She's literally shaking with her suppressed laughter. If Bruce is going to maim somebody, then it'll HAVE to be ALL of them.
Damian, for his part, dedicates his father a LONG, GRAVE and SILENT stare. The severity of the situation is now under Bruce's eyes and there really isn't anything else to be added.
Tim warily lowers his shield, nods to Bruce and then gives Alfred a very, very guilty look. Oh man, are they ever in for it. Never mind what Bruce will do, it's Alfred who is God in this house.
Cass gives a sheepish smile and disengages from her victim, to stand with her hands behind her back, trying to look as innocent as she clearly isn't.
Jason stands up and grumbles under his breath, but there is no heat involved. He then looks over to the doorway and....oh. Crap. "Um....hi." The lot of them are as messy as the rest of the kitchen, with multi-colored food stuffs being plastered to their beings.
"Shower. All of you. Now." Bruce HAS to close his eyes and NOT see, unless he wants the laughter he feels down in his throat to free itself. "And then I want the kitchen cleaner than it was before this mess," which, knowing Alfred's standards, will be hard enough task, even for the six of them put together. He opens his eyes again and a traitor little smile dangerously twists his lips.
Cass nods dutifully, trying to be a good, grim little bat, but her eyes are dancing. She grabs the second Robin, who is clearly uncertain of what to do now that the food war is over. She tries not the smile at the relief she see in his body as they leave the room.
Tim sighs and hangs his head, defeated. This is so not fair! He'd been trying to get Dick to stop, and the pastries had been the most convenient item to distract him with. He carefully edges past Bruce and heads for the en-suite attached to his room.
Steph hurries behind Tim, with huge a grin plastered upon her lips, but in faultless silence: she perfectly knows that pushing her luck TWICE with Bruce is unwise.
Why, WHY father doesn't burst out in rightful anger at the invaders and kicks them all off the Manor? Damian frowns at Bruce. "But father..!" he tries.
"No BUTS, Damian. BATH," the man retorts, trying real hard to keep serious as the child finally gives up and shuffles his feet out of the room.
"Oh my God," Dick grins, as it’s his turn to saunter past his mentor. "Was that a PUN, Bruce?"
"Scram!" The man orders in a throaty voice... and heavily restrained jocose tone.
* * *
When the door bell rings Dick is quick to leave the job of setting the table (more penance for the lot of them) to the others and hurries to see who has arrived. Opening it, he grins warmly at the gorgeous redhead on the others side. "Babs! How are you!" he crows happily, leaning to give her a hug.
Barbara accepts the energetic hug, with a sudden rise of her eyebrows. "Christmas always put you in a hyper mood, huh Grayson?" she asks. But truth is that she STILL has to find a reason for Dick NOT to be a hopeless optimist.
"Blame Timmy's cookies. All that sugar you know." He stands back and opens the door wide for her. His grin is irrepressible. But he is grateful that they got the kitchen clean a half hours ago. He actually took a second shower, as had the others, after finishing that chore. For this reason his hair is still damp.
Barbara drives the wheel-chair inside the hall with her patented priggish smile. "If glucose is the source of your character, then you must be on a permanent sugar overdose, Man Wonder," she wisecracks.
Dick smirks in response as he closes the door and moves to take her coat graciously. "You're only just figuring this out?"
"No, I've been having this doubt for years," Babs smirks back, shucking out of her coat which she hands to Dick. She’s glad that he didn't try to help her, for Babs always hated the others' pity. "So, how's the... family reunion going?" she asks.
Dick gets a decidedly chagrined expression. "Umm....well...the others are setting the table and...no one has been killed. Yet."
Babs's smirk widens a inch. "Then it's going good," she muses.
As he walks beside her, Dick bites his lip, but his eyes continue to sparkle. "I'm not sure Alfred would agree...."
Babs hums in response. "And I'm not sure I want further elucidations on the matter, Grayson..."
Dick grins at her, almost vibrating on the spot. Part of him want to crow about the fun they had. After all, how often do ALL the bat-brats get to have a food fight?
Alfred put the children to work helping him move the meal onto the table, while Dick dealt with what is undoubtedly Barbara's arrival. Now that everything is arranged to his satisfaction, he heads into the living room, smiling at the pair. "Dinner is served, Master Richard. Miss Barbara. Please do come and have a seat."
With a tilt of the red-head, which once used to inflame - and, every now and then, still does, but secretly - Dick's sweetest dreams, Babs gestures the young man to show her the way to the dining room.
Dick gives an elaborate mock bow and leads the way. His heart feels ready to burst because in the room everybody else is already seated.
When Babs enters the dining room, she feels her eyes grow wide and her spectacles glide a bit down her nose: they are there, all of them. Cassandra, who has found place near a somewhat insecure-looking Jason, delivers her a bright welcoming smile. To the Asian girl’s left, Stephanie - elbow on the table and chin in hand - is all taken in a enthusiastic conversation with Tim.
While Bruce... Bruce sits just there, at one end of the table, apparently paying attention to Damian's complaints but, in reality he watching, all of them, with a ghost of a smile which touches Babs deeply and pushes her to look and grasp for the first Robin's hand. “Dick...” she murmurs.
Dick blinks but smiles and gives her questing hand a warm little squeeze, understanding her unspoken meaning. "Come on. Hope you don't mind, but we left a space for you between me and well...." He grins.
Babs nods and answers the little squeeze, as she tries to hold back the storm of emotion she feels burning at the corner of her eyes. Dick doesn't have to say the name, because she knows that already. The place left belongs to Alfred.
He grins and shows her to the place that will accommodate the wheel chair.
The table is already set with many customary delicacies: cranberries, stuffing, caddied yams, jellied salad and more. The ham is out but there is still one bare spot on the table.
In that moment, Alfred comes in with a silver tray bearing an impossibly large turkey, cooked to perfection. The butler isn't smiling but the pleasure of his very being radiates out to all in the room. Carefully he places it down and then stands back. "Is there anything else anyone requires?"
"Only for you to sit down and have dinner with us, old friend," Bruce answers and his voice a thick caress like black velvet.
Alfred stands a little straighter. "I couldn't possibly, sir, but thank you," he says cordially, secretly pleased at the invite he can't accept.
"Sit yourself down Alfred," Stephanie prods lively.
Damian nods majestically at the Whiner's girlfriend words: she finally said one thing right out of the whole day, at least.
"Yeah, sit," Tim chimes in, smiling a sharp little smile.
Dick moves behind the old man and puts his hands on Alfred shoulders, pushing gently as before them everyone is nodding or beckoning the old butler to join them. "Tonight is for family, and you are definitely family."
Jay sits up straighter in his chair at the other end of the table. "Yeah. My idea of family includes you." Storm blue eyes look at the elderly butler earnestly.
Cass smiles and motions to the empty chair between Barbara and Jason.
Alfred splutters softly in protest, but then Dick is propelling him into the seat. Gentle but firm pressure on this shoulders has him sitting on the plush ivory upholstery.
Barbara smiles as the elder man takes his place beside her, she feels one large, emotion laden tear slip down her cheek. She can't help but think, it's a miracle. A Christmas miracle and it's because of you, Alfred.
*****Note: There is still an epilogue to be posted in this series.*****
Authors: aiyokusama & vespertila
Prompt: [special prompt #2] Holiday Miracle & T11; P10 Together
Characters: the whole Batclan
Genre: fluff/comedy; a bit of angst; holiday
Rating: PG-13
Words Count: 5258
Summary: When loved ones are near/It's the most wonderful time of the year. -
E. Pola and G. Wyle
The kiss had startled him. Yeah, startled is a good term for it. Wigged out might be better, but Jay isn't willing to admit to that one just yet, he has way to much on his plate as is. Cass had silently headed him to a box of stuff and just as silently indicate that he was to help her with the decorating. Well, that isn't really a chore; she's nice enough and all, not to mention it means he doesn't have to think on everything else that the other members of the house represent.
He reaches into the box and pulls out....a stocking? Huh. This one is Tim's. He spends a few minutes trying to come up with a way to hang it from the mantle without banging nails in the marble. He ends up purloining heavy knickknacks and antiques which he sets on the lip of the fabric. Hopefully whatever gets put into them won't be too heavy. Of course, Alfred will probably have a better solution when he comes back.
The next on one he grabs is Damian's and, with a nasty little smirk, he arranges it next to Tim's. That' sure to piss the annoying little spore off. Stephanie's goes next to the youngest Wayne's and....
He stops, and stares...
At the green fabric, in his hands, the red and white letters spelling out JASON. They, they kept it. His stocking from before, from the two Christmases he'd lived in this house...
Almost curled on the couch, sharing a generous plate of gingerbreads with Steph and Tim, the eldest Robin silently watches Jason. Miracles keep happening today - he can't help but think - for Jason not only has come home and apologized to Tim, but now he's hanging stockings on the fireplace.
Dick half closes his eyes.
Since he was a kid, he always thought of Christmas as a magic day; even if he has learned the hard way, and right since childhood, that life really owns no magic of any sort. Oh, he has witnessed the things that Zatanna and Zatara can do; out of any doubt that's magic. But there's no magic which can bring your parents back from dead. Or a spell which can prevents accidents, or robberies, or violence, or murder from happening. Or a sorcery which can make people reconcile.
That is the kind of magic which dwells nowhere, but in the hearts of people... Dick opens his eyes once more and stands up -- not before having eaten his gingerbread bat up entirely -- and warily approaches Cass and Jason by the fireplace.
Cass looks up at the movement and spies Dick coming their way. She surreptitiously glances over at the distracted second Robin and gives a little nod to Dick in quiet understanding. The two men need this, even if they are both extremely reluctant about taking the first step. She discretely steps back, leaving the pair what privacy could be had in the busy house.
Jason's hands caresses the plush fabric, as a little smile tries to tug the corners of his mouth upwards. Maybe....maybe they hadn't forgotten him?
Dick blinks thoughtfully at the green stocking and then utters, softly, "You kept tearing my own stocking off the mantle..."
Jay's head comes up as he's startled a second time that day. He glances over at Dick and, for a moment, his eyes are wide, then he's trying to cover it. "It's blue," Jay offers. "Blue isn't a Christmas color." The words come out far weaker then he'd meant, as he repeated the argument they had those two years--that are now a life time--ago.
Steph gives Tim a knowing look. Dick and Jason seem about to engage in what is hopefully going to be one of those very sappy family moments. It had better be, since she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Alfred’s ire over bloodstains.
Tim glances first at Steph then his two brothers. Getting up, he reaches for the girl’s hand. Talking will be hard enough for the pair without an audience. Gently he tugs her off the couch and towards the kitchen.
The hint of a smile curves the first Boy Wonder's lips as those old, habitual arguments are unearthed again. "Every time I came home, on Christmas Eve,” Dick mumbles, “I always used to find only your own stocking hanging there". He doesn't mention how much a younger Jason's behavior -- and the resulting feeling of being rejected, of having been replaced -- used to hurt him... "But on the morning after, on Christmas Day, my stocking was there again. Alfred always re-attached it after you had gone to bed..."
Jay nods. "He's... he's sneaky like that...." The words come out soft as before. Dammit! Why can't he speak at a normal volume?! For a moment he searches Dick's face then glances away. Fuck. Who the hell is he kidding? Alfred might want him here, but he doesn't belong.
Dick reaches out a hand and gently slips Jason's stocking from the younger man‘s grasp. With a smooth movement and an amused expression, the young man sticks the green stocking to the mantle, to the left of Tim’s.
"I would call Alfie anything but sneaky," he answers fondly. The old butler always tried hard to make the both of them feel like they were NOT in competition. Too bad he never really managed to convince them.
Jay's heart stop when the stocking is taken but, Dick just hangs it with the rest. He can breath. Really, he can. "He's the sneakiest. He could give lessons to Catwoman." He means it as a joke, but there is much truth there. Bruce might have trained them in various stealth techniques but it's Alfred who demonstrated their day to day value.
"He could give lessons to a real of people," the man comments. Well, that kind of conversation will most likely bring them nowhere, right? All that they've been talking about, right now, is something which belongs to the past - kids' stuff - ain't it?
Jay nods. He heads back to the box and pulls out a blue stocking which he hands over to Dick. There is an absurd sense of ceremony to that gesture. He sighs. "I shouldn't have been such a little prick," he offers. It's easier to talk about the crap form the other life. He can't quite bring himself to deal with the mess he made of this one. Not with Dick, at least.
Dick takes and seems to weight both the stocking and the remark before he attaches the oversize blue sock to the mantle, next to the green one. Now the four boy’s colorful items show all in a row, eldest to youngest Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian.
The young man tilts his head, looking at them. Shouldn't he and Jason be speaking about when the latter showed up in New York and stole his vigilante identity to do rough justice in his name? Or maybe they should talk about when Dick and Tim had a brawl with Jason, because they thought he was Duela's killer? Also, wouldn't Jason's continuous, cruel spites be mentioned there? Or Dick being always fundamentally suspicious about his second brother?
'Damian - Tim - Jason - Dick' he reads silently again.
No -- he ponders to himself, mindlessly caressing the names with his gaze -- he frankly thinks that they shouldn't. Not now. Maybe in months to come. For now, Dick can accept the past as is and look forward. Magic is in the hearts of people and that’s where miracles come from, if people TRULY want them to happen.
"It's nice to see them all together" he offers, smiling a little.
Jay nods, accepting that maybe that meant he was...welcome? If not forgiven.
Then Dick averts his gaze from them stockings and eyes Jason. "Just... don't try and steal my stocking again, okay Little Wing?" he hazards to joke, with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
And that relaxes something tense and horrible deep inside Jason. "I think I can restrain myself."
Teasing accepted, Dick feels not only relieved, but BETTER... even if he knows perfectly well that this can be just the beginning and much time will be needed for the reciprocal wrongs and mistrust to be totally forgiven.
"Good," Dick says and his smile, gradually, becomes a genuine witty smirk. "Because otherwise nobody would restrain me from tying you down and dumping you in the cellar, on THIS Christmas".
Jay raises an eye brow at that, trying to be serious but the tease is obvious. "Had no idea you were into bondage, Goldie."
"Oh, I'm full of surprises," Dick counters slyly.
The two young man stare at each other for the length of an unnaturally elongated second. Then Dick moves to squeeze Jason's shoulder. Just that.
Jay glances up and there is hope in his face, skeptical and guarded, but still there. He nods slowly.
* * *
As Damian goes through the dining room aiming for the kitchen (he decided to avoid the hall, because he really doesn't want to see Grayson and the smelly ox trying to pathetically fraternize), he can't help but notice that the room in question has been arranged and properly decorated to no doubt accommodate a sumptuous dinner. For far too many.
The kid smirks to himself. His father will throw the intruders out, just as soon as he comes home. And he REALLY can't wait for that moment to arrive. Damian pushes the secondary swinging door open and duly, his face darkens at the sight of the Whiner and his obnoxious girlfriend.
Alfred is around....somewhere. Tim has no idea where exactly, but the man has a lot of things already half-done and easily completed when the last of their guests arrive. Tim could, of course, make more cookies, but they have enough of those last a light time, or at least three days. So instead he has enlisted Steph’s help to make Empanadas. The spicy savoury taste of the meat and raisin-filled puff pastries should balance out things nicely.
The beef is simmering, the pastry is ready, but they are missing the final ingredient. "Steph? Do you see the raisins?" If one of the others stole his bag of sweet blonde raisins there will be hell to pay, Christmas or no.
Sitting with both of her knees on a stool, Steph looks around, but it's not easy to find something in the organized, but cluttered mess, the Brainy Robin has turned the kitchen into. "Nope," the girl finally answers.
Turning towards the girl, Tim spots Damian. Okay, be nice, don't accuse. "Something you're looking for?" He asks. That....almost sounded cordial.
"Only you out of here," the child snaps back, aiming for the fridge. One of the first things he learned at the Manor -- not without complaints from his part -- is that if he wants something, he has to go and get it himself, for Alfred is NO slave.
Steph intercepts Tim's eyes and comically rolls her eyes at him: brotherly love galore...
Tim sighs and shakes his head. "Guess you don't want any Empanadas, then," he says with mock regret.
Damian resurfaces from the fridge, a carafe of water in his hands, and states nasally: "I don't ANYTHING which comes from you".
Steph decides to busy herself elsewhere and stretches over the crowded table to sort the supplies and try to locate Tim's raisins as the child gives her a wide birth, trying to reach for the dishwasher and the clean glasses.
"Too bad," Tim says over his shoulder, as he reaches into the oven for the tray of butter tarts Alfred had asked him to keep an eye on.
"Tim?" Steph's voice comes right at that moment. "I found your silly raisins," she announces, grabbing a package and lifting it. She has barely the time to perceive her knuckles banging into something else before there is a thump. And a white cloud of fine, white powder.
Tim manages to put the tray safely on the counter to cool when the mishap occurs. Ah well. It was bound to happen at some point. He can't help but smile at the sound of Steph spluttering.
When the cloud of flour thins out, the sight offered to the two teenagers is both appalling and ludicrous: Damian stands right there, as he was frozen - with his glass and the carafe, whose content now vaguely resembles to milk - his frontal section utterly floury, from head to feet.
"Gee..." Steph winces, smelling HUGE trouble ahead...
Tim moves closer to the pair.
"It was an accident..." Oh, this is going to get messy fast, in more ways then one, if the child's expression is anything to judge by.
An accident?! The kid's eyes snap open and flash with anger. "You... YOU are an ACCIDENT!" Damian booms. He could easily reach for the knives, but luckily he doesn't. Instead he throws the dense, slimy contents of the chilled carafe against the two.
Both Tim and Steph gasp out aloud when the unpleasantly cold mixture of flour and water hits them.
*
At the indignant howls, Jay's head goes up and he's already running for he kitchen. It sounds like Damian is in a full on rage, which would be bad.
Dick turns on his heels and rushes to the kitchen right after Jay.
Cass blinks at the running bodies and follows, but doesn't get in the way of the boys going first.
*
Tim says nothing but he glares at the little bastard. If would be liveable if this is the worst of it. That thought, however, is dashed as he sees the furious child reach of the bowl of custard filling.
"JERK!" Steph cries out and she's fast to steal the bowl from under the kid, sticks her hand in the filling and slops a handful right on Damian's nose.
Tim horror remains, but now it's turned on Stephanie, as well as warring with the
desire to laugh outright. "Steph!"
Seething with rage, Damian SLOWLY rubs his face clean. He's fuming so much, that he looks about ready to puff steam out of his ears.
"Oh, he deserved that!" Stephanie retorts, but her tone is more an amused burble than a real snap.
Tim pinches the bridge of his nose and prays for patience. This is, of course, why he doesn't see the next barrage coming.
Damian darts a punch to the bottom of the bowl and the large container seems to suddenly revolt against any rules of gravity, because it flies upward and onward, spinning and rolling, spewing long and wild splatters of custard filling, practically, EVERYWHERE.
Jason barrels through the kitchen's door just in time to get splattered with the gooey mass. And to add injury to insult, the bowl smacked into his shoulder. Oh you've GOT to be kidding!
"SPORE!" he roars and charges in, grabbing the nearest condiment which just happens to be a squeeze bottle of mustard. Ready, aim....FIRE! Right at the boy’s seething face. Or it would have been if he hadn’t slipped on a goddamned egg yoke! Aw, crap!
Damian is very quick to throw himself down and dodge the squirt of mustard. Dick frowns - following the action, which is quickly turning frantic and unpredictable - and then darts, as he notices the child crawling for the knife case. He catches the floury little prince by the waist and lifts him up, before the latter can grab a blade.
"Nonono, oh touchy one! Daddy told you to play nice to the other kids, remember?" the first Robin admonishes.
"SHUT UP!" Damian thunders, trying to hit Dick to his stomach. "Yeah! Shut up Dick!" Stephanie smirks, gathering a solid splotch of the filling - which has been running down her visage - and slinging it squarely into Dick's face.
"Steph!" Tim yells a second too late and tries to grab her arms in the name of restraining her. "Enough!"
"Oh jeez Tim, SHUT UP too!" Steph grins, grabbing blindly a squeeze bottle of mayonnaise and spattering Tim's face and sweater. "And LET YOURSELF GO for ONCE!" she snickers.
Meanwhile, Jason picked himself up, pivoting as he tries to follow Damian; and before he can stop himself, his hand is already spraying the contents of his weapon all over the boy....and the man holding him. Uh....oops?
Cass is standing in the dubious safety of the doorway, watching all this with an amused but very bewildered expression. Is this another Christmas tradition?
Tim splutters and grabs the mayonnaise turning it back on Steph, making VERY sure to spray it down her top. The blonde lets out a ringing squeal in response. No, he isn't smiling -- Tim tells himself -- Nope, not at all!
Dick gasps and smacks his lips: his face is now a gorgeous stain of custard filling AND mustard gifted with a pair of blue eyes. "O-KAY!” he exclaims. His arm releases Damian “No blades, no blunt instruments. Seasonings are more befitting to the Season.” He instructs his younger brother. Then his right hand grabs the utility spray valve. “Now Little Wing, here's to us!"
"Shit!" Jay is running for the door but there is a body in his way. Well, that's okay. He grabs Cass and spins her, so that Dick is soaking the Asian girl. This of course gets a startled spluttering sound from her and she holds up her hands to fend of the spray...
* * *
Alfred is down in the Cave, waiting patiently for the Batplane to arrive. The computer altered him 5 minutes ago of the incoming vehicle’s proximity to its destination. And no, he's not going to allow the man to stay down in his dank Cave, which he no doubt would be inclined to do, if left to his own devices.
The Batwing slips inside the cavern without a sound and wavers over the floor, before gradually starting the intricate landing manoeuvre.
Alfred waits on the sidelines for it to power down. Only then does he approach the marvel of engineering. With hands at his sides, he waits for Bruce to appear.
With a hissing sound, the canopy of the Batplane splits open and Batman gets up, moving out of the vehicle in a liquid - yet martial - motion. "I hope you'll to explain me, what is going on," Bruce opens, half serious and - can it be? - half amused, addressing to the butler.
"What's to explain, Sir? It's Christmas Eve and your family requires your presence," the butler reproaches mildly, his expression utterly calm as always.
Bruce removes the cowl, for his skeptical expression to be fully exposed.
"ALL of your family," Alfred emphasizes meaningfully.
"I heard that part the first time, Alfred," the billionaire walks to one of hidden wardrobes to put away the cape and the cowl. Bruce definitely is still NOT willing to pardon Alfred for having arranged such a masterpiece of a trap for him.
Alfred sighs. "Do you really require another reason, Master Bruce?"
Bruce finally turns around, his mouth stretches in a ironic line: "Not after you manipulated me so well." After all, one of a warrior's better qualities is the ability to recognize the superior skills of his opponent.
Alfred sniffs with mock affront. "I would never stoop to such underhanded machinations."
“Don't be modest now," Bruce quirks an eyebrow at the butler.
One corner of the old man’s mouth threatens to twitch upward. "'Your family is here and you should be as well. There is no more elaborate explanation for it."
The billionaire this time gives the butler the tiniest of the smirks and approaches the elder man to grasp his shoulder. "This is another of those days in which I'm glad you're on OUR side," he relates gravely, yet meaning every word of it.
The man permits himself a little smile. "As you should be, as you should be..." He's about to suggest they head up, when the Batcomputer starts howling a warning. The sensors within the Manor have registered a large scale disturbance in the kitchen.
Bruce's smirk is fast to vanish, as he turns around to the console and activates the system of closed circuit cameras.
The screen flares to life to show...a dark something. There are sounds of a fight and squealing voices, as well as many things being thrown and thumping into things, some of them possibly bodies!
Bruce shoots a quick, piercing glance at Alfred, from over his shoulder, then he's off, up the staircase, aiming for the kitchen.
Alfred pelts after him, doing a good job of keeping pace with the younger man.
A warlike, piercing shriek coming from the behind the swinging door, urges the billionaire to hurry his pace and throw the door open.
Alfred is right beside him, fearing that tempers have indeed flared. But no, they aren't killing each other. They are instead doing something much worse. Six young people are in the kitchen, flinging various substances at one another and--oh Dear Lord!--Dick is making good use of the sink's utility spray nozzle to defend the area he has claimed as his own.
Stephanie has Damian howling in a headlock, about to smush something that might have been a tart at one point into the child’s face. Jason is flailing--laughing?!--on the floor with Cass straddling his back and doing SOMETHING to his feet, while Tim is trying to use a serving tray to ward off the water his older brother is spaying.
Then everything stops and all eyes turn, rather guiltily to the open door.
It looks like that for once, one of the butler's clever strategies has been turned against him...“Well.” Bruce's voice comes calm, but streaked with undeniable, strictly suppressed evil glee as he addresses his old friend. “It shouldn't be too much of a bother to you to cook another Christmas Eve dinner, right?” He carefully keeps his gaze on the occupants of the kitchen now turned into a battlefield, for if he moved around to look at Alfred, Bruce would probably laugh and spoil the effect. “I've heard it's usually served around midnight. So you're plenty of time...”
Alfred sighs, his shoulders slumping in mock defeat. "Indeed sir. No trouble at all." He surveys the disarray that is the kitchen. Oh, he is very thankful the turkey and ham, at least, are safely cooking in the ovens.
With the heel of his hand Dick rubs the tip of his nose clean, flashing a
dazzling smile at Bruce. "Welcome back," he cheers, and really he couldn't be any more shameless if he tried.
Encouraged by Dick's cheekiness, Stephanie lets Damian go and adds, "And Merry Xmas!" She's literally shaking with her suppressed laughter. If Bruce is going to maim somebody, then it'll HAVE to be ALL of them.
Damian, for his part, dedicates his father a LONG, GRAVE and SILENT stare. The severity of the situation is now under Bruce's eyes and there really isn't anything else to be added.
Tim warily lowers his shield, nods to Bruce and then gives Alfred a very, very guilty look. Oh man, are they ever in for it. Never mind what Bruce will do, it's Alfred who is God in this house.
Cass gives a sheepish smile and disengages from her victim, to stand with her hands behind her back, trying to look as innocent as she clearly isn't.
Jason stands up and grumbles under his breath, but there is no heat involved. He then looks over to the doorway and....oh. Crap. "Um....hi." The lot of them are as messy as the rest of the kitchen, with multi-colored food stuffs being plastered to their beings.
"Shower. All of you. Now." Bruce HAS to close his eyes and NOT see, unless he wants the laughter he feels down in his throat to free itself. "And then I want the kitchen cleaner than it was before this mess," which, knowing Alfred's standards, will be hard enough task, even for the six of them put together. He opens his eyes again and a traitor little smile dangerously twists his lips.
Cass nods dutifully, trying to be a good, grim little bat, but her eyes are dancing. She grabs the second Robin, who is clearly uncertain of what to do now that the food war is over. She tries not the smile at the relief she see in his body as they leave the room.
Tim sighs and hangs his head, defeated. This is so not fair! He'd been trying to get Dick to stop, and the pastries had been the most convenient item to distract him with. He carefully edges past Bruce and heads for the en-suite attached to his room.
Steph hurries behind Tim, with huge a grin plastered upon her lips, but in faultless silence: she perfectly knows that pushing her luck TWICE with Bruce is unwise.
Why, WHY father doesn't burst out in rightful anger at the invaders and kicks them all off the Manor? Damian frowns at Bruce. "But father..!" he tries.
"No BUTS, Damian. BATH," the man retorts, trying real hard to keep serious as the child finally gives up and shuffles his feet out of the room.
"Oh my God," Dick grins, as it’s his turn to saunter past his mentor. "Was that a PUN, Bruce?"
"Scram!" The man orders in a throaty voice... and heavily restrained jocose tone.
* * *
When the door bell rings Dick is quick to leave the job of setting the table (more penance for the lot of them) to the others and hurries to see who has arrived. Opening it, he grins warmly at the gorgeous redhead on the others side. "Babs! How are you!" he crows happily, leaning to give her a hug.
Barbara accepts the energetic hug, with a sudden rise of her eyebrows. "Christmas always put you in a hyper mood, huh Grayson?" she asks. But truth is that she STILL has to find a reason for Dick NOT to be a hopeless optimist.
"Blame Timmy's cookies. All that sugar you know." He stands back and opens the door wide for her. His grin is irrepressible. But he is grateful that they got the kitchen clean a half hours ago. He actually took a second shower, as had the others, after finishing that chore. For this reason his hair is still damp.
Barbara drives the wheel-chair inside the hall with her patented priggish smile. "If glucose is the source of your character, then you must be on a permanent sugar overdose, Man Wonder," she wisecracks.
Dick smirks in response as he closes the door and moves to take her coat graciously. "You're only just figuring this out?"
"No, I've been having this doubt for years," Babs smirks back, shucking out of her coat which she hands to Dick. She’s glad that he didn't try to help her, for Babs always hated the others' pity. "So, how's the... family reunion going?" she asks.
Dick gets a decidedly chagrined expression. "Umm....well...the others are setting the table and...no one has been killed. Yet."
Babs's smirk widens a inch. "Then it's going good," she muses.
As he walks beside her, Dick bites his lip, but his eyes continue to sparkle. "I'm not sure Alfred would agree...."
Babs hums in response. "And I'm not sure I want further elucidations on the matter, Grayson..."
Dick grins at her, almost vibrating on the spot. Part of him want to crow about the fun they had. After all, how often do ALL the bat-brats get to have a food fight?
Alfred put the children to work helping him move the meal onto the table, while Dick dealt with what is undoubtedly Barbara's arrival. Now that everything is arranged to his satisfaction, he heads into the living room, smiling at the pair. "Dinner is served, Master Richard. Miss Barbara. Please do come and have a seat."
With a tilt of the red-head, which once used to inflame - and, every now and then, still does, but secretly - Dick's sweetest dreams, Babs gestures the young man to show her the way to the dining room.
Dick gives an elaborate mock bow and leads the way. His heart feels ready to burst because in the room everybody else is already seated.
When Babs enters the dining room, she feels her eyes grow wide and her spectacles glide a bit down her nose: they are there, all of them. Cassandra, who has found place near a somewhat insecure-looking Jason, delivers her a bright welcoming smile. To the Asian girl’s left, Stephanie - elbow on the table and chin in hand - is all taken in a enthusiastic conversation with Tim.
While Bruce... Bruce sits just there, at one end of the table, apparently paying attention to Damian's complaints but, in reality he watching, all of them, with a ghost of a smile which touches Babs deeply and pushes her to look and grasp for the first Robin's hand. “Dick...” she murmurs.
Dick blinks but smiles and gives her questing hand a warm little squeeze, understanding her unspoken meaning. "Come on. Hope you don't mind, but we left a space for you between me and well...." He grins.
Babs nods and answers the little squeeze, as she tries to hold back the storm of emotion she feels burning at the corner of her eyes. Dick doesn't have to say the name, because she knows that already. The place left belongs to Alfred.
He grins and shows her to the place that will accommodate the wheel chair.
The table is already set with many customary delicacies: cranberries, stuffing, caddied yams, jellied salad and more. The ham is out but there is still one bare spot on the table.
In that moment, Alfred comes in with a silver tray bearing an impossibly large turkey, cooked to perfection. The butler isn't smiling but the pleasure of his very being radiates out to all in the room. Carefully he places it down and then stands back. "Is there anything else anyone requires?"
"Only for you to sit down and have dinner with us, old friend," Bruce answers and his voice a thick caress like black velvet.
Alfred stands a little straighter. "I couldn't possibly, sir, but thank you," he says cordially, secretly pleased at the invite he can't accept.
"Sit yourself down Alfred," Stephanie prods lively.
Damian nods majestically at the Whiner's girlfriend words: she finally said one thing right out of the whole day, at least.
"Yeah, sit," Tim chimes in, smiling a sharp little smile.
Dick moves behind the old man and puts his hands on Alfred shoulders, pushing gently as before them everyone is nodding or beckoning the old butler to join them. "Tonight is for family, and you are definitely family."
Jay sits up straighter in his chair at the other end of the table. "Yeah. My idea of family includes you." Storm blue eyes look at the elderly butler earnestly.
Cass smiles and motions to the empty chair between Barbara and Jason.
Alfred splutters softly in protest, but then Dick is propelling him into the seat. Gentle but firm pressure on this shoulders has him sitting on the plush ivory upholstery.
Barbara smiles as the elder man takes his place beside her, she feels one large, emotion laden tear slip down her cheek. She can't help but think, it's a miracle. A Christmas miracle and it's because of you, Alfred.
*****Note: There is still an epilogue to be posted in this series.*****