Work Text:
’Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, everyone was stirring, including a mouse…
Alfred Pennyworth scowled at the pantry shelf. Mouse droppings lay scattered behind a box of Master Dick’s overly sugared cereal that he insisted on having when he came to the manor. He’d obliged his eldest grandson until now, but there was a rodent in his home, in his domain. He silently declared war on the vermin. It would be caught (humanely of course, lest Master Damian subject them all to another lecture about ecosystems) and relocated to a home far, far away from Wayne Manor.
Plucking the box from the shelf, he disposed of it properly. And contrary to what others might say, he absolutely did not hide it in the bin. It was buried under the refuse in an effort to throw off the mouse, lest the creature find its way to a vermin smorgasbord. He washed his hands and set about laying out the post-patrol goodies for the resident vigilantes. It was hard to tell just how many would return. Given that it was Christmas Eve and all were celebrating the holiday in the morning, it would be foolish not to set out enough for all the family.
Cheerful voices rang out from Master Bruce’s study, growing louder as they approached the kitchen. Masters Jason, Tim, and Damian led the way, followed by Miss Brown and Mistress Cassandra. Their cheeks were flushed pink, no doubt from the cold.
“Dick’s bum knee was giving him fits, B wanted to make sure he was taking care of it.” Jason jerked his thumb over his shoulder as soon as they’d crossed the threshold. “They’ll be up in a minute.”
Alfred raised an eyebrow. “I’d best go lend a hand. I know how stubborn Master Dick can be.”
“Suit yourself, Alfie.” Jason picked up a plate and loaded it with several cookies. “I’ll be right here.”
“Make sure to leave enough for your father and brother.” He resisted the urge to gently smack the back of the young man’s hand on his way out of the room.
Alfred turned down the hallway, rolling his eyes at the sound of Tim’s cackling laughter. He loved his charges, but he’d prefer it if they acted like the human beings they were rather than a pack of wild hyenas.
No sooner had he made it to the study, than the old grandfather clock swung outward. Dick emerged, heavily favoring his left leg, followed by Master Bruce.
“Is something wrong, Alfred?” His pseudo son slid the secret panel back into place.
Alfred tucked his hands behind his back. “Perish the thought, sir.”
“Hope there’s enough chocolate chip cookies left.” Master Dick hobbled out of the room.
Alfred placed a hand on Bruce’s arm, holding him back a moment. “How is he, really?”
Bruce ran a hand over his face and let his posture relax as he quietly closed the door to his study. “He’s fine, for the most part. His knee is acting up more and more. I’m concerned that if he doesn’t get it looked at soon then it’ll become a liability in the field.”
“I’ll see if I can’t help persuade him, subtly of course, to let Doctor Thompkins have a look.”
Bruce rolled his shoulders as if to ease the tension he always carried. “If anyone can, it will be you, Alfred.”
They joined the rest of the clan in the kitchen where everyone was chatting amicably, a Christmas miracle in itself, until Master Damian bit into one of the sugar cookies cooling on the rack.
“Young man, those are not for you.” Alfred folded his arms and looked down at the youngest of the brood.
“We’re all accounted for, Pennyworth, who else would they be for?” The upward tilt of his chin was the only outward display of defiance.
“Santa.” Dick, Jason, Tim, and Stephanie answered in unison.
“You’re kidding.” Damian shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “Aren’t they, Father?”
Bruce dragged a hand down his face.
Dick grinned from his seat. “Every year, Santa breaks through Apokalypse’s defenses to leave a lump of coal for Darkseid.”
“I don’t believe you, Grayson.”
Tim shrugged. “Believe him or not, Santa gets tetchy if anyone’s still awake when he tries to deliver gifts. So I’m off to bed.”
Seven pairs of eyes stared unblinking at him.
“Strike that down for Christmas Miracle number 2.” Jason rolled his eyes as he stood. “I’m off to bed, too. Early morning and all that.”
The clamor of each family member wishing each other a good night as they climbed the stairs warmed Alfred’s heart as he cleaned up. He couldn’t ask for more for the holiday than to see his family whole, healthy, and getting along for once.
*~*
Bruce tied his robe as he exited the bathroom. Patrol had gone well, the criminal world making things easier on him for a change. The boys had all turned in, and even the noises of his five kids settling in had quieted. It was the perfect time to sneak his presents for them under the tree. He’d hidden them in his office, and they were all too easy to spot for anyone looking for them. Thankfully the last time someone had actively tried to look for gifts was when Dick was 11. Jason still hadn’t trusted Bruce his first Christmas in the Manor. Tim was an older teen who was so used to being ignored that he’d been shell shocked to find gifts solely for him. And growing up as child assassins meant neither Cass nor Damian really celebrated the holiday.
He gathered the packages in his arms.
A Superman hoodie for Dick, purchased with much grumbling at Alfred’s insistence that the acrobat would love it.
A new leather jacket for Jason since the various holes in the one he currently owned were making it ineffective against the sharp Gotham wind.
Tim got a vintage camera and a week-long trip to Europe with the express condition that he relax and take as many photos as he could.
Bruce hadn’t really known what to get for his youngest son. He settled on art supplies since it was one of the few things Damian did for his own personal enjoyment.
For Cass’ gift, Bruce’d had to contact his daughter’s ballet teacher. He wanted to get her a new pair of pointe shoes but was hilariously out of his depth in terms of finding what she needed.
Stephanie, as part of the family whether she always wanted to admit it or not, got various odds and ends in the peculiar shade of purple she favored. Entirely thanks to Barbara Gordon and Cassandra filling him in on her preferences.
Alfred…that was the one gift Bruce had waffled over for some time. What did you get your pseudo father when he had everything he wanted or needed? An all-expenses paid cruise to the Caribbean with the date set so he would have no excuse to not go…obviously.
Bruce placed the gifts under the tree. Satisfied with the arrangement he crept back upstairs to turn in for the night.
*~*
Dick slipped from the media room with silent footsteps. He’d managed to wrangle Jason and Tim into watching Frosty the Snowman with him after everyone else turned in. It was a favorite movie from childhood, and it was meant to be seen with family. He hadn’t counted on them all falling asleep on the couches. Granted, they had just gotten back from patrol and were sleep deprived on a regular basis. When he woke to the DVD menu and its merry singing, he switched the system off and tried to snuggle back under the blanket. He adjusted his position a few times before his eyes popped wide open. It was far too quiet. Growing up in the circus, he’d been surrounded by constant noise, and it was something he found carried over into adulthood. Dick would never admit it out loud, but he still had the white noise machine Bruce gave him for his ninth birthday.
He approached the window in the hall outside his bedroom and opened it to take in the crisp scent of winter. The moonlight caught on the freshly fallen snow covering the manor’s back yard. Even though the sky was dark and it was well after midnight, he could see everything plain as day.
That was when he saw it. A tiny sleigh pulled by eight miniature reindeer. Dick’s lips twitched up in a grin as the driver flicked the reins.
“Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen. On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall! Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!”
Then, as if they weighed no more than a piece of fluff, they soared into the sky. Reindeer hooves pawed as if there was an invisible road that led heavenward. If he listened closely, he could just make out the bump and scrape of the sleigh as it landed on the roof.
Dick leaned back in and closed the window. He crept to Damian’s room and was just opening the door when Tim and Jason rounded the corner.
“What’s going on?” Tim rubbed his eyes.
“Playing mama bird now?” Jason chuckled elbowing Tim in the side and almost knocking him off balance.
“Santa just landed.” Dick shook with excitement. “Wait here.”
Jason shot him a look. “Where else are we gonna go?”
Dick slipped through the open door and padded to his youngest brother’s bedside. Titus raised his large head from where it rested against Damian’s stomach.
Damian blinked his eyes open. “Richard? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Li’l D. Just want to show you something downstairs.” Dick flipped the covers back from his brother’s form and hoisted the ten-year-old into his arms.
“I am perfectly capable of walking.” Damian all but growled. He’d be a formidable Batman someday, when he was old enough to don the cowl and not drown in the cape.
“I know you are, but we need to hurry.” Dick stopped to nudge the door wider with his foot. “So if you can be quick about it, I’ll put you down.”
“But you also have to be quiet.” Tim added through a yawn.
“I demand to know what you three are up to.” The youngest scowled.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” Jason pushed himself away from the wall where he’d been leaning.
Damian maneuvered himself onto Dick’s back where he clung like a baby koala. “Lead on.”
Dick adjusted his grip as the four of them headed down the stairs to the front parlor.
“…pleasure to see you as always.” Alfred was right inside the door.
“You’ve done an excellent job in caring for your charges again this year, Mr. Pennyworth. Admirable young men and women all. Even though it seems some have come down to sneak a peak.” A deep voice replied.
Dick and his brothers stepped inside the room. Santa Claus himself stood next to the fireplace, his red suit streaked with soot and ashes from the chimney. He had a more solemn appearance than most depictions, but there was still a merry twinkle in his eye.
“Merry Christmas, sir.” Dick grinned. He hadn’t really believed much in the figure before him until he’d come to live in the manor. Bruce had tried to humor the child under his care saying that the jolly man would deliver gifts while he slept. It wasn’t until adulthood, when he’d met the man, that his enthusiasm took off.
“This is an elaborate prank for all of you to play.” Damian huffed as Dick set him down. “I will not fall for it.”
“Perhaps I should have a word with the young man.” Santa stroked his beard.
“We’ll be in the kitchen should you need us.” Alfred took four cookies from the plate sitting next to the fire and motioned for the oldest boys to follow him.
*~*
Damian folded his arms and glared at the large man in front of him. “Did Todd put you up to this?”
The costumed interloper pulled a pipe from the belt around his middle. He puffed on it for a moment, appearing to be in deep thought. The smoke from the pipe floated up and circled around his head looking very much like a gossamer wreath.
“Pennyworth and Father will both be displeased that you’re smoking.”
The man tilted his head. “Do you smell smoke?”
Damian sniffed trying to make it seem like he wasn’t doing as instructed. He grumbled out his answer.
“I’m sorry what was that?”
“I said, ‘no’ you imbecile.” He snapped. He was tired and had been woken up from what little rest he got for a practical joke.
“Do you think so little of your brothers to believe they’d take a joke this far?” The man knelt so he was at eye level.
“You don’t know Drake or Todd.” Damian had to resist the urge to tap his foot impatiently.
“Better than you might think. I visit everyone on Christmas Eve, but those who dwell here have long been favorites of mine. What makes belief so difficult for you, little one?”
“I’m not a child!”
The man stifled a laugh. “No, you have seen far too much in the few years you’ve walked this Earth. If I may offer a few words of wisdom?”
“You can offer, I’ll choose whether or not to accept them.” Damian looked him in the eye.
“You can call me Nicholas if it makes you feel better.” He ruffled Damian’s sleep mussed hair.
“Your words of wisdom, Nicholas?”
“You’ve heard the saying seeing is believing?”
Damian nodded unsure of where this kooky old man was going.
“I say believing is seeing. There are many things out there that defy logic. Don’t miss out on those wondrous things because they don’t fit inside a neat little box.”
“Father is the world’s greatest detective. Logic is our specialty.” He stamped his foot.
“Perhaps, but maybe he misses out on the wonder, too. Don’t relegate the whole world to your five observable senses.” Nicholas rose to his feet and slung his bag over his shoulder. “It could very well save your life someday.”
He stepped back toward the fireplace and nodded with his finger laid alongside his nose. Then just like magic, which Father would be most displeased about, he rose up the chimney.
Damian wandered into the kitchen where his brothers and Alfred were seated at the table munching on cookies and hot cocoa.
“Did you two have a good talk?” Richard rose and stretched his back.
“I suppose.” Damian shrugged. Nicholas had given him a lot to think about.
“Let’s get to bed, yeah? The Commish and Babs will be here bright and early and I, for one, would like some sleep.” Jason mirrored Richard’s stance nudging Timothy to follow suit.
“Bed, yeah.”
Once Damian was settled in his bed with Titus watching over him, a whistle split the calm night air.
He’d never admit it to anyone, but he grinned at the sound.
A voice carried by the wind shouted for those still awake to hear. “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!