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There's a level of excitement in the air when the doorbell rings, and Bruce hears Damian bolt across the hallway towards the front door without a word. Alfred makes a pointed hmm at the whole thing as he sets the table in preparation for the night's meal, but leaves the front door to Damian. Bruce is expecting Tim to be the first to arrive, or maybe Dick. Jason, he imagines, will be last, but it's hard to say.
After all, Jason hasn't been to a family Christmas in years. Trying to think back that far is painful, so he simply doesn't. Jason's increased presence in the mansion is welcome, but also chaotic. He never calls before he arrives, or gives any notice all, instead favoring showing up at the house with a basketful of bloody laundry, begging Alfred to work his magic.
So Bruce is, if he's being honest with himself, expecting Jason to blow in around midnight with his friend and completely miss dinner.
Jason's friend is a particular point of interest. It's the first time Jason has brought someone over, and Bruce isn't quite sure what that signals. Dick tried to put money on Roy (Bruce refused to join the betting pool, and no one else would either), but the fact is that none of them really know enough about Jason's friend circle to guess.
Damian's sudden reappearance in the entranceway throws him off. He looks... distracted. Confused. Almost lost, which does not give Bruce a good impression of what he's about to face.
There Jason comes, looking almost excruciatingly smug like he's enjoying a joke no one else is.
Then his friend rounds the corner right behind him, already shrugging his coat off.
His friend.
His friend who Bruce knows primarily from his work and his bodycount.
Midnighter is Jason's guest.
Bruce considers going to bed right then and there.
"Bruce!" Jason says with a grin that tells Bruce that he's going into this fully intending to cause trouble. "I see you know my guest."
Bruce apparently wasn't quite fast enough with hiding his exasperation, but it's too late now. There's no way to escape the situation, which means he's going to just have to deal with it.
"Midnighter," Bruce says, offering a hand. No point in trying to pretend like he doesn't know who he is, and Bruce doesn't have much faith that Midnighter doesn't already know his secret identity either. He knows Dick worked with him. He knows he helped when Mother was a serious threat. He's certainly not a member of the Justice League by any means, but he's still, however loosely, an ally.
Which means he gets treated like one for as long as it lasts.
"Bats," Midnighter says with a grin that tells Bruce he's in on the same joke as Jason.
"We try and avoid using anything other than names, here," Bruce says, because he's not going to be caught dead getting called Batman outside the cave. "What should I call you?"
The man's got a half dozen aliases, but even with all of Bruce's skills he has no idea which one is real. He supposes that technically he hasn't really looked into it, but generally he knows almost everyone's real name after what he'd consider only a cursory search.
"M," Midnighter says, because of course that's his name.
"So what, are we the first ones here?" Jason asks, craning his neck around.
"Masters Richard and Timothy are still on their way," Alfred says as he emerges from the kitchen. Unlike Bruce, he doesn't seem at all fazed by the fact that Jason's brought Midnighter of all possible people into the house.
In fact, it sort of feels like Bruce is the only one bothered by it. Damian looked surprised at first, but now he's just going about his business like it's nothing to be concerned about.
"Are you staying the night?" Bruce asks. He hopes the answer is no.
"Of course," Jason says, looking more up to something by the second. "I told M all about Alfred's Christmas breakfasts."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," M says automatically.
"Are we going to have enough rooms set up, though?" Jason asks, raising an eyebrow. Bruce does a quick count, and decides the answer is probably not. Tim said he wasn't bringing anyone, Dick said he wasn't sure, and Jason...
"We'll make do," Bruce says. "If Dick brings his girlfriend, they can just share a room."
"We have one additional room we could make use of," Alfred points out. "We would simply need to change the bedding."
"That spare room is for Alfred's use only!" Damian yelps. "He should not have to share it!"
M looks confused, and Jason leans over with a grin on his face.
"Alfred's the cat," he explains.
"His full name is Alfred the Cat," Bruce clarifies. "He has his own room."
The doorbell rings and Damian darts off again, slinking back in rapidly with an annoyed look on his face.
"Ouch," Jason says. "Let me guess, Tim?"
"Richard is not usually so delayed," Damian complains as Tim peeks around the corner, his winter jacket still on.
"Sorry I'm late, traffic was— Woah!" Tim falters, blatantly gawking at M where he stands. "Midnighter?!"
"Todd brought him," Damian barks. "Stop gawking, you fool."
"I don't think there's anything particularly foolish about being surprised," Bruce counters. "I wasn't even aware that Jason and M were friends."
"I mean, he did help us with the whole Mother thing while you were unavailable!" Tim calls, and Bruce can hear him peeling his outerwear off in the hallway. "Who else is coming?"
"Dick and whoever he chooses to bring."
Bruce is starting to feel like he should have insisted on knowing who his children were inviting, rather than just giving them free reign on their plus one. Even so, he can't imagine Dick bringing someone worse than Midnighter.
No, scratch that, he can. He's always had playful banter with Deathstroke, but Bruce is drawing the line at Midnighter. If Dick shows up with Slade Wilson, Bruce is kicking them all out and booking himself a flight to somewhere warm and tropical.
"Oh, there's Dick," Tim calls. "Either that or someone else just parked who has the same taste in hideous cars."
"That car is a classic, Tim," Jason protests. "You know what, I'm going to see if Alfred wants any help."
As awkward as Bruce was sharing a room with Jason and Mid— M— he can't help but feel even more awkward now that Jason's out of the room.
"So," he says, trying to sound casual when he's anything but, "how long have you been friends with Jason?"
M gives him a smile that can only be described as a shit-eating grin, but doesn't get a chance to answer before Bruce hears the door open.
"Guess who's arrived!" Dick announces, rounding the corner and stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of M casually lounging around the living room like he owns the place. "M?!"
"Grayson," M says, leaning back in his chair. "Fancy meeting you here."
"In this house where I lived half my life," Dick counters, squinting at M like he can't quite figure out why he's there. M's obviously going to wait for him to ask, but it gives Bruce a strange sort of comfort to realize that Dick is just as thrown off by the whole situation as he is.
"Ask him why he's here," Damian says as he turns the corner, returning from the kitchen. "It's clear you wish to."
"God, alright then, I'll bite," Dick says as he drops his bag by the door. "Why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate your company and all, but I am almost entirely sure I didn't accidentally invite you, and I'm pretty sure you didn't make Bruce's guest list."
"Maybe the old man's a big fan of mine," M says with a grin that shows too many teeth.
Dick snorts at that, and Tim leans around the corner.
"Weird, right?" he says. "He's just... here."
"Okay, but why is he here?" Dick says. "He's my nemesister—"
"Please do not call him that," Bruce says with a groan.
"He's my arch-frenemy," Dick continues, and Bruce buries his face in his hand. How much of Christmas evening is going to be spent discussing M's presence?! "And I want to know who invited him."
"That'd be me," Jason says, casual as can be.
Alfred, apparently sensing looming disaster, arrives with Christmas-themed snacks, interrupting the conversation. It's hard to make trouble with Alfred's turtle peppermint bites being passed around the room, and the addition of eggnog to the mix eases out the worst of the tension.
Or Bruce thinks it does anyway.
"Okay, no more avoiding it," Dick says, rounding on M where he sits in his chair, looking insufferably smug. "What's the deal here? You know Jay?" His eyes flick between the two of them, and Bruce honestly can't tell who looks more amused by the situation.
There's an inside joke happening between them, and Bruce isn't sure if he wants to know what it is.
"I know all of you," M points out. "Did you forget the invaluable help I provided to you all?"
"You'd never let us forget," Tim says with a groan. "You know what Dick means."
"I do know what he means," M says, his grin getting that much wider. "I'm just waiting for him to ask directly."
Glances are exchanged between the boys. Bruce does not include himself in those glances, because he does not want to ask. He knows what this is. He can't help but feel like Jason might actually be intentionally antagonizing him, but that doesn't change that he knows what's happening. He's not stupid.
He's pretty sure Tim knows, but Dick... Dick seems genuinely oblivious. So of course Dick is the one who asks, leaning forward like he has no idea what it is that Jason's going to say.
"Okay, Jay. Why'd you invite M?"
"We're dating."
Bruce and Alfred don't react at all. Damian lets out a scandalized gasp. Tim nods sagely, obviously aware the whole time.
Dick actually drops his glass of eggnog, and it shatters all over the floor.
"You're what?!"
Jason leans forward to squint at the mess.
"That seems like an overreaction," Jason says. "I'll get it." He's already hopping to his feet as Alfred does the same, the two of them practically competing to clean up Dick's mess. Dick shoots M a scandalized glance.
"You're dating my little brother? What happened to the bro code?"
M sips his eggnog and somehow manages to look even more smug.
"I don't remember signing onto any such bro code, Grayson."
Dick never quite manages to come up with a coherent response to that, probably because there isn't one. There's nothing actually wrong with the two of them dating. It's probably just a bit of a shock for someone like Dick who tends to treat everyone as the kids they were when he first met them. Bruce can't quite relate, considering he's seen Dick himself grow from an energetic kid to the fully grown man he is right then.
Alfred ends up letting Jason handle the mess in favor of shooing everyone into the dining room to start dinner. Bruce suspects he's trying to delay any further conversation about Jason's relationship status, and the move does a good job of that. Even so, it can't actually last, because eventually Tim starts playing twenty questions with Jason's new paramour.
"Where are you from, exactly?" Tim asks.
"That is an excellent question," M replies enigmatically. "Could you pass the butter, please?"
He never actually answers, which is clearly the name of the game. While Bruce isn't directly paying attention at first, by the end of the meal he's pretty sure M hasn't answered a single question, no matter how mild they were. Bruce wants to say it's something he pre-planned, but considering the computer in M's brain, it's entirely possible he's doing it on the fly so perfectly that Bruce only notices because he's looking for it.
Which would almost be impressive if it weren't so infuriating.
That's not to say M is rude. No, far from it: he's the perfect guest in every way. He compliments the cooking, helps with the dishes, and by the time they're starting to wind down, retiring to the living room with drinks, Bruce is pretty sure Alfred's about to ask if they can keep him.
"Alright," Tim says with all the seriousness he can muster, "confession time."
"Can't wait to hear this," M says as he sips his drink.
"Every year we all have a blank plus one. Sometimes that means bringing a girlfriend, sometimes that means bringing a friend who doesn't have somewhere else to go. So all of us bring a bunch of extra gifts with no particular recipient in mind so that any guests don't get left out of presents tomorrow morning."
"I was told," M says, his eyes sliding towards Jason. "I brought gifts."
"Oh no," Tim says, waving his hands. "That's not what I need to say. What I need to say is that I may have incorrectly guessed that our only guest would be one of Dick's girlfriends and made my purchase accordingly. So... how do you feel about spa packages?"
M cracks up at that and Dick lets out a groan, burying his face in his hands.
"Just fine with them," M says as he wipes his eyes. "That would have been fun to open in the morning."
"I think it's about time for bed," Bruce says. As nice as the conversation is going, it is late, and he knows Damian is going to insist they wake early enough for him to open presents, do breakfast, and then call Jon. "Do I need to show you where the guest rooms are, M?"
He's still not used to calling him M, but Bruce has to admit the man's grown on him. He's... civil. Bruce can appreciate that, even if any talk of work is going to end in a fight.
"Oh, no need," Jason says. "He's going to spend the night in my room."
Bruce swears he sees his life flash before his eyes. Jason choosing to date someone who he's heard called murder batman on more than one occasion is one thing. Jason choosing to share a bed with him in the manor is a whole other thing.
But he sees the trap. He knows the risk.
"Oh no," Tim says quietly.
Damian wrinkles his nose.
"That can hardly be allowed," Damian protests. "You have not been dating long enough—"
"Neither has Dick," Jason says casually as he finishes off his drink. "And Bruce was willing to let him share with any potential girlfriend he may have brought, so I don't see why he wouldn't extend me the same courtesy."
Dick looks downright traumatized at the thought of his innocent little brother sharing a bed with one of his friends. Bruce doesn't want to imagine what he's picturing as Dick stares into space.
But Jason's right. He can't say no without it being an insult (either towards M or Jason himself), so all he can do is take a nice long inhale and nod.
"Of course," he says.
Jason grins at him.
"Great! I knew you wouldn't have an issue with it," he says in a tone that makes it clear he knew no such thing.
They trickle out of the room as Bruce finishes up his own drink, setting the glass in the kitchen. Eventually it's just him and Alfred.
"I think he's trying to kill me with this," Bruce groans.
"I suspect so, Master Bruce," Alfred says, but when Bruce looks Alfred has a little smile of his own.
"What?"
"Ah... perhaps it is not my place to say, but I can't help but suspect that you may not be the only one whose emotions are being toyed with..."
Jason can barely contain his glee. By the time the door closes behind them he's only just holding it in, and he lets out a quiet whoop of excitement.
"Did you see their faces?" he says, his grin as wide as can be. "I think I might have just shaved a few years off Dick's life with that one."
M looks amused, although not quite as excited as he is. He's dropped his bag in the corner of the room and he spends a moment rifling through it, retrieving several small presents that he drops by the foot of the bed—probably so he doesn't forget them in the morning.
"Wow," Jason says. "You really went all out on this, didn't you?" Not that it surprises him. M is just that kind of person. If he's doing something, he really commits.
"I thought it would leave a better impression," M says.
"Not that it really matters," Jason says after a moment's hesitation. "I mean, I can't expect you to play along with this joke every year."
It was his idea to mess with Bruce and the others, and while M readily agreed to his plan, he can't really expect him to drag it out that long. If it comes out they were lying, then it comes out: it's no skin off his back. It's not like anyone would be that surprised to learn Jason invited M just to torment them.
No, they'd probably think it was pretty much exactly the sort of thing he'd do.
Jason's right in the middle of that amusing thought when he turns and finds M way too close. Way, way too close. He jerks back and his back bumps into the wall, and then M is right there.
Looming over him.
His hand braced against the wall just beside Jason's head.
Jason's pretty sure his brain stops working for a minute.
"M?" He croaks, trying to figure out where all his composure went.
"So," M says, dangerously close as he leans in. "When are you going to admit to yourself that you're hoping this ends up as something more than a joke you're playing on your family? Is it before or after we climb into bed together?"
Jason's brain isn't working right. It can't be. Because M is right in front of his face. There isn't even an inch between them and he just— okay, no, he cannot handle this. He wouldn't be surprised if there was smoke coming out of his ears.
"That was—" He splutters. "This is just— just a—"
"A joke," M finishes. "Which is why you made the decision to bring along someone you were attracted to. Someone who you've spent the whole evening sneaking glances at. Who you've been watching to gauge the reaction of. It's just a joke, which is why you went out of your way to engineered a situation where we'd have to hop into bed with each other."
He should have realized that M's stupid computer-brain wasn't going to let him miss a damned thing.
"I was going to sleep on the floor," Jason mumbles.
M grins at him and it's downright predatory.
"Oh? Why would you do that when you could spend some time with me instead?"
Jason makes a noise. He's not entirely sure it could be described as a human noise. It' s probably the same sound some strange animal makes when it dies, because that's what he feels like right then: like he's dying.
"You're not serious right now," he manages to say. He's pretty proud he managed that much.
"I absolutely am," M says. He's still way too close. He's like—
Oh no. Jason can't let himself think he's right in kissing range, but it's too late. He's already thought it.
When M moves it's with the most agonizing slowness Jason's ever seen. It is the most slow and drawn out movement he's ever seen the man make, his hand still planted against the wall as he closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Jason's.
Jason's brain is absolutely not working, because one blink to the next and the kiss is over. He's pretty sure it lasted a lot more than a millisecond, only he's just as sure that his brain missed almost all of it. The best he can do is make a stupid sound that's almost a what only not even half as eloquent.
"I'll take that as a 'yes, I am very interested in screwing around with you'," M says with a smirk that would put the devil to shame.
"I am— I am very, very interested," Jason blurts. Not his finest moment. "But—"
Oh no. He's going to have to say it, isn't he?
"But you don't want this to just be screwing around," M says for him. "You want a relationship."
It's a mercy, but still embarrassing.
"Yes."
"Then also yes," M says. "Now let's get to the screwing around. You might be giddy about the fact that you just started dating, but I want to enjoy the fact that your father's invested in the world's nicest beds."
The bed does in fact turn out to be a really nice bed, but Jason doesn't pay all that much attention to it. He's a little bit too distracted by everything else, the least of which is the fact that he's going to have to figure out how to get through Christmas morning without dying of embarrassment.
He definitely knows he wouldn't bet on himself on that point...