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Jason eats a lot. He did when he was young but now the exact amount of food he can put away is completely unknowable. Alfred is both thrilled and daunted by this concept.
And as their first amiable holidays approach Alfred finds the menus growing exponentially and then he's less thrilled and very daunted. When Alfred asks if he has any new favorite foods Jason realizes what time of year it is and, instead of protesting attending the festivities, insists on helping.
So the kitchen at that time of year feels suddenly cramped because it's no longer just Alfred and the occasional Cass dutifully mixing a bowl of batter or Duke tending a pan on the stove, but it's also Jason's great width that makes whatever station of the kitchen he is supervising wholly impassable, at least for Alfred. The siblings seem to make a game out of it, playing limbo under Jason's arms when he reaches up to a shelf, slipping quickly by him when he's distracted by the oven so that they can snag a cookie off of the well guarded platter.
A memorable moment among these instances includes Damian getting scruffed by Jason when the youngest of them tries a mad dash through the window of Jason's long legs. He's carried out of the kitchen kicking and hissing, over Jason's shoulder. And Jason's laugh. It still sounds like him, of course it does, bright and toothy. But Alfred likes how it's grown with him, stronger, with a raspy edge.
Tim will do anything to make Jason laugh, tells him his best stories, best jokes. He can tell when Jason is laughing to humor him and when he's laughing at Tim. But best of all, Jason seems to laugh when Tim's barely trying to be funny at all, as if Jason's actually grown to like him and they get along. They spend hours in the garage working on the vintage cars together.
Dick's just happy to see Jason at all. He and Barbara catch themselves just watching him at the holiday festivities, feeling satisfied and hopeful smiles had snuck up on them. It's the best gift they never dared to ask for, to have Jason back. To have him here for another snowy holiday means more than they can fit into words. Dick takes special delight in throwing a snowball at him in the driveway of the manor. And Barbara can’t hide her grin while she tugs Jason’s jacket until he bows and lets her brush the remains of the slushy projectile from his hat and shoulder.
Chanukkah, mid December this year, finds Jason thoughtfully dedicating an afternoon to sweet donuts for Bruce and Kate, and for some of the newer recruits. Kate’s he leaves at her apartment with a note, but bravely delivers Bruce’s in person. Jason's seen the little gifts each night on his fire escape and, though his heart aches at being included once again, Jason puts aside his nerves and embraces the holiday season as if taking an arrow to the heel. The hug from Bruce when he delivers the sweets and card is...enough to make him tug at his shirt collar and lift it to dry the corners of this eyes. Tim eats all of his own donut delivery in one sitting with coffee because he wasn't being supervised.
Finding gifts for Christmas is a little hard for Jason to do. He laments the fact that he doesn’t know the younger kids well. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet. But maybe next year he’ll be able to make the gifts more personal. What he finds for them are more utilitarian, but specific to their needs and areas of expertise. When Jason runs his gifting list by Alfred the old man approves each thing, even if only to give Jason the confidence. Which is what he needs.
Instead of Christmas day, they now exchange gifts on Christmas eve. That’s something that’s changed since Jason was a kid. The family has grown, and more than one of them have places to be on Christmas day, and other families to drink cocoa with.
The attendance is a little daunting for Jason. Faces he’s still not very well acquainted with (some, people he's hurt) arrive with armfuls of bags and wrapped presents. Bruce has graciously sponsored all expenses so that no one is left with empty pockets after the holidays, a yearly tradition as Jason’s heard.
In the morning it’s the slow and steady trickle of arrivals. After lunch there’s games and wrestling out in the snowy yard, immediately followed by enough hot cocoa and coffee to warm an army of pink noses. Bruce watches it all, a sweet twinkle in his eyes. This is his Christmas gift, seeing so many of them happy and laughing and joyful.
Jason tucks himself into a loveseat in the library, by a roaring fire, and passes out before he can think of finishing his cocoa. The nap lasts an hour until Duke carefully wakes him, explaining that Alfred is in the kitchen, preparing dinner, and knows Jason wouldn’t want to miss this. Jason bolts upright and they both skip down the stairs to join the old fella in his duties.
Cass is on guard at the kitchen door ensuring that none may disturb the very important business happening inside, not even her bold little brother Damian. When Bruce strides up to the door, curious about the progress of the Christmas goose in particular, her stone expression makes the door impassable and her father surrenders his palms to her and backs away. Cassandra smiles, knowing she’s done a good job, for all their sakes, by keeping Bruce, of all of them, out of the kitchen.
Since the first time since Jason had ever entered the manor, the grand dining room is filled with people he actually knows (cares for). No diplomats, no politicians, no CEOs. Just family. B’s family, his dad’s family, as he dares to feel that sentiment in his heart these days. The younger kids are rowdy and perfect. Jason and the more weathered crew are so joyful they can hardly take a bite of food but for their smiles.
When they don’t think they could possibly take another bite, dessert is served.
They shuffle with glazed eyes to the grand sitting room where the most pleasant Christmas tree is on display, mounds of gifts beneath. Another of the many Wayne fireplaces is lit, and a portrait of Thomas and Martha gaze serenely over the gathering scene. Jason heads straight for the rug before the fire and stretches out on his back, one hand happily rubbing his full belly while he listens to the sluggish chatter of the settling friends.
A board game is played among them. Meanwhile Alfred breaks out the good liquor and wine that hasn’t yet been drunk over dinner, helps himself first to a small glass of limoncello, homemade. Jason’s propped his head up on a cushion to watch him serve Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Helena, Kate, Selina… Across the room Alfred’s gaze slides to his, one thinning conspiratorial british brow arched. Jason sits up, sucks on his tongue to hide his grin. Purses his lips. He will not grin, will not draw attention to their schemes.
It’s just like when he was young, a preteen, and Alfred passed him mugs of coffee behind Bruce’s morning newspaper without the boy’s father ever noticing. Jason’s not legal. One more year maybe… but it doesn’t stop them, two lads who know life is too short. Alfred walks by and palms a glass of limoncello to Jason without a word. The butler hadn’t shared it with anyone else. And it’s a simple enough liquor to make, but to Jason it’s delicious and he has to stop himself from downing the small glass and instead savors the tingle of vodka on the inside of his cheek.
“If we don’t start now we won’t finish until sunrise, father.” Damian’s voice is heard above the chatter around the room.
“Alright lad, take a seat, let’s get started.” The boy, with a pleased and anticipatory smile, sits on the floor at Bruce’s feet. He’s truly at his father’s knee. It may be the alcohol, but Jason stifles a giggle in his knuckles.
Round and round they go, exchanging gifts and passing them around for others to see. Jason is so relieved that each of his are accepted, as if they could ever have been rejected.
Jason gets nearly equal gifts in return, all things useful and utilitarian from a family who is still getting to know him, too.
Then Alfred gives him a thoughtful first edition, and a soft, forest green sweater with the hint of a turtle neck, just how he likes. After insistence from the girls he ducks out of the room and swaps it with his sweatshirt, returning to “oh you’re so handsome” from Stephanie and a pleased twinkle from Alfred.
Damian gives him two original paintings “for that dump you call an apartment.” Jason doesn’t mind. His place is coming along while he fixes it up, and these will make it even better.
Duke gives him some kind of dog collar…?“ You won’t stop talking about getting a dog,” the teen says with a bashful roll of his eyes. And he’s right. Duke’s gotten to know him well with all the time they spend helping Alfred. “I think it’s time.” It’s such a light comment, but Jason thinks it’s time, too. He can’t wait. Thinks about how much he’d loved Sparky as a kid, and smiles.
“Okay okay...Dickie,” Jason calls and his big brother perks up. “That one. Over there.” He points with his chin to a large rectangular gift against the wall and out of the way.
“Do I have to get up? My belly’s still so full,” he moans but pries himself off of the couch he’d been melting into. Dick shuffles over and takes up the present and carries it back to his seat and starts unwrapping for all to see. “Some kind of case…” He sees the latches on the side and something clicks in his detective brain. “A guitar!” Dick unlocks the case and produces the rosewood acoustic guitar, with a brown red pickguard and an opal accent around the sound hole. He frantically checks the brand on the certificate inside the body, but already knows what it is.
“Is that…?” Bruce wonders, shaking his head and smiling to himself. He looks over at Jason, just happy.
“It is!” Dick crows. “It’s the one, from the poster on my wall...wanted this for so long and I never thought to get it.” He passes the instrument to be safely held by Harper nearby and skips over the obstacle course of gifts on the floor so he can tackle Jason into a hug. So much for being too full.
Jason wraps one arm around him, the other busy keeping them both upright from the force of the hug. “You never did shut up about that guitar,” Jason tells him and everyone. He remembered. Jason remembered how much Dick had pined for that guitar. The poster was still in his room at the manor to this day.
The gift giving tapers off. Some of the assembly says good bye and departs for other Christmas venues, Stephanie to her mom’s place for example. Some of them are spending Christmas with their respective teams which serve as family just the same. The night wears into dreamy territory and only a few of them are left in the cozy sitting room. Others who didn’t leave have gone to bed in their rooms or guest rooms.
That’s when Dick takes the guitar from its case. He tunes it up and fumbles out some holiday melodies, sounding them out with words under his breath. After a little while Dick starts to strum a top 40. Tim seems to know the song and mumbles out some of the lines, perking up.
Dick clears his throat and changes it, feeling warmed up and ready to sing a little.
“Good times for a change,” he sings.
Jason knows this one, by The Smiths, and lifts his head from where he’s laid down again. While Dick runs through the verse Jason pushes himself up to sit and rocks side to side a little. Jason can’t believe the absolute cornball he’s about to make of himself, but he joins in when he can catch the words of a song he hasn’t thought of in a lifetime-
“Let me get what I want.”
It’s a short song and Jason doesn’t want it to end. Dick must feel the same way because he loops back to the beginning and they sing together, imperfect and from the heart. They repeat it enough until Tim’s singing too, and Barbara. And Duke learns the chorus with them. And they sing it one last time.
“So for once in my life let me get what I want. Lord knows it would be the first time.”
Dick strums them out until everyone’s feeling sleepy. Without a word he tucks the guitar away. Damian is shuffling out and off to bed, feeling very light. They all follow him in their own time, Bruce and Alfred bringing up the rear. In front of them Dick and Jason walk side by side. Jason’s saying something about the chore of making breakfast in the morning.
In the hall they pause to bid goodnight and Dick squeezes Jason’s shoulder. It turns into a solid hug.
“Thanks, little wing,” Dick tells him.
“Yeah...no problem.” The hug goes on Jason tiredly props his chin on his brother's shoulder. “I know how much you dreamed about that guitar.
Bruce watches as Dick just rolls his eyes where Jason can’t see. It’s not the guitar he’s thanking Jason for.