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The entire family had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the winter months, specifically the winter holidays as a whole. Even Bruce had grown up celebrating an odd mix of Hanukkah and Christmas and yule, this in turn learned of their current holiday traditions falling rather loosely in the realms of tradition.
That being said, a few of them genuinely did like the holidays.
Dick for one had been excitedly waiting for this day, to the point that as soon as it turned December 1st at 12:01 am Dick had begun blaring Christmas carols in the coms for almost the entire rest of patrol.
This all resulted in Red Hood trying to hunt down and punch Nightwing and Robin suspiciously disappearing off with batman.
Even now, Dick had proven himself well in the holiday spirit, only added onto by having his boyfriend able to come over and help him decorate the cave.
Bruce made it very clear, wally was not to be in the main manor for the holiday. Dick could go out and spend time with him or be in the cave, but Bruce didn't want to add to the already heavy chaos by adding a person that most of his kids were not used to. Generally, it didn't help any rising tensions to have a stranger present.
Even so, Bruce would not be surprised if Kid Flash attempted to make a sneaky visit to his boyfriend at some point, but for right now he was continually reminding himself ‘Dick can make his own decisions. Dick can do whatever he wants. Dick can-’
Oh no.
That's the line.
“Put it back!” Bruce called to Dick, currently hanging from one of the handholds on the cave ceiling, fixing a green and red tuft of mistletoe next to a row of at least five other handholds, also with mistletoe.
“Take them down.” Bruce thrilled up to Dick, inadvertently slipping into the tones he always used when he needed to scold Damian for something on patrol.
“Whhhyyyy?” Dick twittered out petulantly, pouting down at Bruce.
Bruce looked at Dick, before looking at the kid flash who stood watching this exchange carefully as he continued hanging strings of popcorn on one of the cell doors.
“I'm going to assume this is not about me until you tell me that it is about me. That's only fair,” he said carefully, and pointedly putting down his string of popcorn and moving away from the cells to another activity causing Bruce to look up at the mistletoe again pointedly.
“This is homophobic.” Dick spat, English this time causing Bruce to sigh.
“You are not gay,” Bruce said pointedly, earning a glare from dick and a concerned look from wally.
“You handed me four bisexual flags in the last four Gotham pride events,” Bruce said simply causing Nightwing to pause, mouth open like he was about to say something before thinking better of it.
“Okay yeah, you got me there. Still! It’s the principle of the thing!” Dick twittered back at Bruce in protest causing Bruce to sigh, already feeling like he needed to rest again.
“One mistletoe that you hold. And use it out of sight of small children and spoilers.” Bruce stated.
“Why… spoiler?” Wally asked carefully, Bruce and Dick exchanged a look before Batman, in all his imposing glory took one look at Wally and said. “I tolerate your presence here. Should you disobey my orders, do not disobey that one.” before seeming to disappear out of existence, leaving Wally to feel as if he had just had his very life weighed out in front of him, his knees a little wobbly in fact, something he hadnt noticeduntil just now.
“He likes you,” Dick called from the ceiling, making Wally jump, looking up at his boyfriend.
“Was that him liking me?” Wally asked, astonished at such a threat. What did he do to those he didn't like?
“Eh, he’s got a weird sense of humor. Don't worry though, if he didn't want you here, you wouldn't be here.” his boyfriend assured, words sea sawing a bit as he did making it all distorated and choppy at parts, yet somehow entirely captivating. Finally Dick removed the last of the mistletoe before letting go of his handhold causing Wally's reflexes to spike and before he could think about what he was doing, he was below his boyfriend Dick, catching him before he could hit the cold stone floor.
“Don't scare me like that!” Wally scolded, even though he had seen this crazy guy jump off of skyscrapers unscathed, it scared him half to death then as well.
“My hero.” Dick chuckled in his arms, holding the mistletoe above their heads with a teasing smirk on his face before leaning up and catching their lips together, the fake plant forgotten as Dick readjusted to where he was now straddling Wally like a koala holding his grip tightly as he pushed himself into the kiss further, making exaggerated smooching sounds till wally wiggled away.
“Gggahhh! Gross!” he whined playfully, barely trying to push Dick off of him.
“But I have a present for youuuuuuuu! Wanna open iiiittttt?” Dick teased in an overly seductive voice.
Though of course before Wally could respond the sound of someone clearing their throat came from the cave entryway, both of their heads snapping over to see Signal standing there, perhaps the biggest string of lights he had ever seen thrown over one shoulder and the largest pack of sour gummy bears in the other.
“If we can leave all traumatizing activities on patrol or in the comfort of our rooms, that would be preferred,” Duke asked the odd mechanical lilt to his voice that none of the others had, always catching Wally off guard when paired with that playful grin.
“Or like, at least till I'm done with lights.” then shrugged, moving up to begin stringing them along the cave walls.
Duke remembered the first time Dick had convinced Bruce to let them decorate the cave.
He of course had to enlist the help of Tim, then bribe the hell out of damian.
That was the real key, the only other nail in the coffin was for him to convince Cassandra to make her big sad puppy eyes at him and sign ‘please?’ before he broke.
Sure that first year they took it easy on him and only put up a few strings of lights and Christmas baubles.
The next year, however, Dick may have gone a bit crazy with it, having a fully working train set going throughout the cave, behind the waterfall that Dick had somehow managed to put waterproof lights inside of, and a full dinosaur nativity scene complete with a Yoshi egg Jesus.
Thankfully he mellowed out after that. Duke was not sure he could handle that same assault of sights, sounds, and colors again.
Sure, Duke had the full power of electricity and the lighting spectrum within electricity, but that doesn't mean it didn't become overwhelming.
Even so, with his enhanced abilities and his father's attempted… enhancements… Duke had ended up not only being able to see a wider array of colors but also being more sensitive to their sounds and movements. Part of the reason Dick toned it down the years after the second was because of how many migraines Duke got from being in the cave. Though Duke did also get him five leather-bound journals, so it makes up for it.
Though complaints aside, Duke did genuinely like Christmas lights.
Largely because of his meta abilities he almost feels like others aren't ever able to truly see the beauty of them. Arent able to truly see the artistry that's behind every one of those little dancing bulbs of color, everyone holding their own unique pattern as they glowed.
Duke knows that he was likely the only one holding such philosophical thoughts about lights, even still he wanted to spread some of the joy with as many as he could, having his own special ways of getting the longest strings of lights on the market before going out for an extra patrol when they were having a slower night and hanging them up throughout the city, even getting Red Hoods help spreading them through Crime Alley. A few streets didnt even needing them, still having last years installed and becoming the substitute for the long burnt out street lamps, giving the whole street a liminal, yet beautiful light in the evenings.
By the end of his patrol, he would make his way home, thoroughly in the Christmas spirit as he dug through the storage and found the Christmas tree they always kept in the living room. Duke had been here for a few years before he ever even remembered if he celebrated Christmas.
Memories were weird like that, he knew that he was doing something in the sewers with Jason when he just said “the tree was my favorite part of Christmas I always liked how you could lay under it and look up and feel like nothing else existed but that.”
Jason told him about it after the sewers and just told Duke “sometimes I forget you're a writer by trade, then you go and say things like that.”
It was an overall fond memory he had. Duke was fortunate enough to have a lot of good memories when he was both alive and dead, he knew not all of them had that same luxury, comparatively, Duke had the most normal childhood out of all of them before everything that had happened with Dukes own bio dad. Steph was likely the second in the running there having grown up with a fairly normal mom and an absolutely batshit dad. No pun intended.
It's like clue master was handed a parenting book and he decided that it was a manual for building a time bomb.
It wasn't pretty when that bomb finally went off, let's just say that.
All The same, every Christmas when it was just her and her mom they were always happy.
But now, it was her, her girlfriend, and her girlfriend's crazy family who Steph just happened to be living with. Since then she had gotten to know Bruce a lot better, now viewing him the way one may view a camp counselor like they were an idiot one step away from absolutely destroying everything, yet also a safe person that she felt comfortable trusting with her own undead life.
Strange how the world changes after you die.
Of course, it took a long time to realize just how much it changes, thankfully having cass there to help Steph be able to start remembering certain snippets of their lives.
She liked they could trust one another with things, able to just spout out their memories at the drop of the hat and be able to recount them to one another later. It provided them both with much-needed closure.
It also gave Steph ways she could love the holidays again, mainly by helping dick make a truly impressive popcorn garland if only to annoy bruce with the absurdity of it, no doubt it will all have been eaten away by bats long before Christmas day actually arrived.
Cass was happy to join in on the fun as well, though mostly by eating the popcorn and providing a few snips of trills and chirps in between Steph arguing with a few of the kernels.
Steph hadn't ever been one to celebrate in a traditional sense. She remembered once that her family did celebrate the Chinese new year, though that was, before her own scheduled death. holidays didn't exist for a long time after that. Even now she still sometimes wonders if the holiday was even worth it, nothing ever had seemed to be celebrated when she was alive.
She remembered vaguely being called to sit on the couch while someone, presumably her father held out a red envelope to her and something about it leaving almost a phantom of discomfort over her at the memory.
She didn't have any of that now.
In fact, the Chinese new year was one of the holidays that Bruce worked very hard for them all to be able to enjoy, especially after Cass had told him about her memories of celebrating it once, he tried to give that back to her, even if it didn't always hit the mark, the fact he tried every year to celebrate Cassandra's own lived traditions just cause she enjoyed it was heartwarming to see every year.
Cass considered herself lucky to have been able to make the holidays into her own new special thing, some of the others didn't have it as easy.
The holidays never meant anything fun for Jason. Really all they meant was being trapped inside these days, but he could still think back to old memories, hastily shared with dick before Dick regaled them back to Jason later, a sad almost heartbroken look in his eyes that made Jason vow to never share his memories with Dick face again.
He still found ways to deal, he didn't want to remember being trapped out in an abandoned freezing building with five kids all younger than him depending on him for shit.
For some reason, that gaggle of street kids just adopted him, specifically Leela. Sure, not his biological sister by any means, but he still thought of her as one, even now. He was just happy she was alive and off the street. Even still, thoughts of the holidays were always stained with your socks being soaked so deeply you couldn't feel your toes, or of after his death, the feeling of cold stone walls and needles, the echoing sound of the song Silent Night being badly sung even as Jason screamed.
Jason didn't enjoy the holidays.
The most he wanted to participate in was coming down the stairs to grab the paper-wrapped junk his siblings decided he ‘needed to have.’
Though, Jason will say, even though he’s feeling much more trigger-happy these days, he's glad to not be in Timmy's position.
That kid got fucked up in more ways than Jason thinks they can ever count.
For starters, Tim knew he and the holidays had complicated feelings mixed together, hell the entire family knew that Tim and the holidays were a coin toss between disasters.
For starters. It didn't help that Timmy went absolutely obsessive for Hallmark, Disney, muppets, slap a Christmas hat on it and it was likely in his Christmas watch list no matter how hard bruce tried to convince the replacement that at a certain point the ‘warm fuzzies’ were no longer healthy. Don't get him wrong, Jason knew why the kid did it. It didn't make it any less weird to see the replacement in the kitchen at 2 in the morning, December 23rd making… something?
Going off the smell alone it was like they had dipped killer croc into chocolate, looking to the side where Jason could see the polar express playing on Tim's laptop, the carton of milk still on the counter with- oh god no, Tim off to the side trying to juice jalapenos as the milk sat still, boiling on the stove.
“Whatcha doin'?” Jason asked after a long moment, looking carefully over to Tim who whipped his head around, something manic in his brow that Jason didn't like as Tim immediately hit pause on the laptop.
“Don't tell bruce!” he insisted, looking at Jason like he was ready to fight should Jason make a ring move.
Jason only sighed, knowing that, by the looks of the mug in Tim's hand, the damn idiot was too far gone.
“lemme try that again.” Jason offered.
“What in God's green fucking earth are you making in that demon pot,” Jason asked, pointing an accusing finger to the now sludge-like substance on the stove.
“I-oh….” Tim started, cutting himself off almost immediately when he did, seeing his mistake immediately.
Good, Jason won't fry his head off.
“What is the cardinal rule of cooking with milk?” Jason asked Tim, sarcasm thick in his voice.
“Never stop stirring…” Tim groaned looking mournfully at the pot.
Jason has very vivid memories of Dick head once taking one of Jason's favorite dutch ovens and trying to boil milk like you would chicken stock on the stove so he could make ‘cereal soup’
If dickhead could die, he would have that day.
Jason fucking loved that dutch oven, even if the foods he made could be described as ‘sadistic’ by human standards, Jason, out of all his siblings was the only one who could get all of them to eat the same meal with minimal complaints. Take that BatBitch.
Even still Jason didn't care about the pot on the stove, in fact, Tim was nice enough to use a pot that Jason kinda fucking hated, so the man had no qualms going up the curdled mixture of what looked like milk, chocolate, and what looked like sardines off the smell and took that thing right out to the dumpster.
It couldn't be saved.
Coming back in he went and touched several of the jars in the window before he asked the million-dollar question.
“What were you even trying to fucking make?” he asked the replacement brow furrowed.
“Hot chocolate that I can actually taste.” Timbo chipped out sheepishly, it sounding more like a bird call than anything,
Jason let out a long groan, knowing what the replacement has done.
He was trying to gauge if Jason was actually mad or just exasperated at him.
“You’ve never had it have you?” Jason trilled, also sounding more like a bird in the distance. None of them really knew when it all started, they just slowly pick it up every time after spending long enough at the manor, they begin understanding it before somewhat instinctively using it, more often used when they want something kept private or unconsciously, or in this instance to gauge whether someone was actually mad at you or not.
Tim just shook his head looking relieved.
“Well, there's your problem.” Jason sang out, getting to a new pot and already thinking about ratios.
“Firstly, hot chocolate is liquid, ideally around the consistency of blood, sounds gross but it's true. Not whatever… that is.'' Jason said, wrinkling his nose at the mug of sludge Tim was still holding.
“It's not a bad first attempt.” Tim offered rather lamely.
“Okay wise guy, drink it,” Jason dared, staring the shorter teen down expectantly as Tim looked up at him in the challenge, though Jason will say it was kinda ruined with Santa laughing from the laptop in the background as Tim slowly brought the mug to his mouth and took a… drink? Bite? Dosage? Of whatever hell mixture was in that cup, the kid managed to keep his poker face for a full five seconds before attempting to swallow before gagging, rushing to the nearest waste basket to spit it out slowly with dumping the rest of the mug inside.
Now, Jason was not the kind of person to laugh in his brother's face, but he laughed in the replacement's face at that.
“Oh fuck off!” Tim spat at him, taking a large drink off the sink before swishing it in his mouth and spitting it out, a few drops splashing back onto Jason when he did.
“He didn't take anything, sir, trust me I wouldn't let him do that!” Jason tried to defend, standing in front of Benny who wasn't even up to this guy's waist.
“That little fucker took something right off the shelf I saw it!” he spat, getting right into Jason's face, glaring him down as Jason inclined his head, refusing to look away, as he spoke to benny
“Bens? Did you take something that doesn't belong to you?” Jason asked carefully, not looking away from the creep cornering them.
“I… I didn't mean to.” Benny said, trying to look and sound smaller than he was.
Good kid.
“I'm sorry, mister,” Benny said carefully holding the now slightly dirty bear out to the man who just spat right in Jason's face as he yanked it away.
“Street rats.” was all he said before storming back to the shop.
Jason was stirring an empty fucking pot.
“You back now?” Tim asked from the table, making Jason turn to look at him.
“I had that happen last night.” was all Tim said before they went back to Jason walking Tim through how to make nonlethal hot chocolate.
At one point Damian even came through, smelling the air and agreeing the aroma seemed palatable and informing them that Greyson was out with his pet, read, wally.
Jason offered Damian a tester of hot chocolate, though the boy declined, claiming firmly that he had no such wish for their poisons making his way back to his own room, locking the door shut.
Damian did not have bad memories of the holidays, far from it, he simply did not have them. Until coming to live with his father Damian thought the man had gone insane when he had first introduced such a novelty of a Christmas tree. Damian believed the man was the only one who did such an odd tradition until Grayson showed up and went positively giddy at the sight of the tree, suddenly insisting that Damian needed to help decorate it with him, insisting that Damian put the star on the tree, and forcing him to take a photo wearing such demining things as the Santa clause hat.
Damian drew the line at the elf hat, resorting to biting Dick before attempting to stab him with the tree star before Father intervened.
“What's the rule?” he asked.
“Sparring is reserved for the cave.” Damian grits out like always before his father sets him down again Dick still smiles at him, Dick now wearing the elf hat as Damian found, to his own horror, he was still wearing the cursed Santa hat.
Damian hurled the hat at Dick in disgust near hissing as he did.
“Would you like to help with the simmering pot?” his father asked, breaking off whatever disorganized standoff Grayson was attempting.
“It is a foolish tradition with no noticeable payoff. Damian snapped before allowing himself to think better of it.
“They are only useful when using fresh mint anyhow.” he huffed.
“Good, we have that.” Grayson beamed all the same earning an affronted look, all the same, Damian went with his father to the kitchen, looking over to one shadow in the corner, concentrating and finding himself on top of the fridge.
Success.
A much better vantage point.
Even if he did slice his finger on one of them going through.
His father had a great many bruises when learning, and Damian supposed he would too.
His father did not say anything about Damian on top of the fridge, instead asking the boy to grab various spices, seasonings, and dried fruit that seemed to have always been in stock here.
Damian remembers distinctly one year, handing his father the last of the dried orange slices, closing the cupboard, and opening it not five minutes later to see an unopened package, it made Damian wonder what other sorts of strange things his father was able to do that none of them, knew about, then again his father never seemed to mention it or even notice. It was one of those things about the manor that none of them really knew.
The rooms were endless, Tim's room was a mess, and nothing outside of their spaces ever seemed to grow dusty or filthy, certain things just… remained in stock.
It was just one of those things. It was also one of those things that were so distinctly a holiday thing.
The odd appearing act his father did was most noticeable when they were going through the most of things, how he just had certain things appear.
By the time the simmer pot was finished Damian watched his father disappear for a moment coming back with a plain unscented candle and lighting it next to the pot.
Another one of his father's odd idiosyncrasies. Damian's mother did always tell her about things his father did that were so human that it was almost amusing.
Only his father would make a nice smelling pot of stuff that none of them could smell only to light an unscented candle next to it.
It was just part of the holidays that Damian had come to find familiar here, while Damian didn't have much sentimentality for these traditions he did like the presents, and perhaps he liked to observe in fascination the way others seemed to get happy at their own silly traditions.
For Bruce, he liked to see his kids enjoying what could often be seen as a hard time of year for them, even if they don't fully realize they enjoy parts of it.
Bruce long ago accepted the quiet mitch-matched holiday season that he grew up with was long gone, what with all the noise his hour had come so accustomed to.
Bruce wasn't complaining of course, though he will say that Christmas day itself, for whatever reason, did result in at least one larger squabble every year no matter how big or small.
Bruce's kids were an immovable wave when they were together, and the holiday was one of those tsunamis that he could never prevent, only to prepare the best he could and hope for minimal damage.
Overall, things were going well. Bruce long ago found that it was a recipe for disaster to have them all opening presents together. It was a much better system to allow them all to open theirs as they wished and if they felt like one on one for certain things. For a long time, Bruce got each one of them seven gifts, satisfied with that arrangement until slowly, each year Bruce always found himself surprised to see something set out for him.
It was almost always a gag gift, any time it was something other was often Cass’s doing. Though last year Bruce did remember Damian leaving him an envelope with a drawing of a black great Dane and in Damian's slightly off-kilter handwriting “great Danes are wonderful companions and enjoy lounging, relatively low maintenance compared to other breeds.”
Bruce cherished the drawing, for one, it was wonderful, and two it was so distinctly Damian.
A way his son chose to share his artwork with Bruce without ever making himself too vulnerable, placing it under layers of disguise to cover that fact up.
Also, the fact that Damian wanted a dog.
That fact was rarely allowed to leave a Bruces mind.
Maybe someday, he supposes currently looking down at three boxes and an envelope set aside for bruce, the sounds of Jason and Tim in the kitchen, continuing their endeavors into hot chocolate, bruce was just glad that, neither has tried to stab the other and two both boys seem to be coping with the holidays rather well with such a distraction.
Carefully undoing the blue and gold wrapping paper of the first looked like it had to have taken hours to have been wrapped so neatly with such a beautiful bow on top Bruce felt bad removing it.
What does he find inside so eloquently hand-crafted and carved into a block of finely carved wood?
None other than the batman symbol and in bold letters reading “I fuck bats.” Bruce couldn't help but laugh at his children's antics, moving to the next package, the same beautiful wrapping this green and silver as bruce did the expert craftsmanship finding inside a clearly hand thrown mug of excellent craftsmanship, clearly with a lot of hard work poured in and painted expertly on the side “how do I talk to people?”
Bruce did love his idiotic kids. Finally the last box, plain brown paper wrapped somewhat unevenly with a simple plastic bow slapped on top of it as bruce just as carefully undid the sloppy wrapping to find a carefully framed photoshop of all of them put into one picture. It was a little disjointed, and very clearly photoshopped, but Bruce could see the amount of hard work that went into that picture of all of them in one space looking happy, even if the lighting was all over the place along with their wardrobes.
Bruce couldn't stop the warm fuzzy feeling that spread through him on seeing it before finally going to the envelope and finding a beautifully drawn picture of Gotham from high on the rooftops in one corner, the same crooked handwriting saying “I can see no stars at night. Solutions?” Bruce chuckled to himself, holding his gifts close and just taking it in, the sound of Jason and Tim in the kitchen, the sound of Steph and Cas working on some sort of new project, and Duke and Damian bickering not far off. In those few moments Bruce felt that everything was worth it, leading up to now, he would change absolutely nothing about his life, or his family.
Then reality came back.
It was a nice thought while it lasted.
“Shit!” was the only warning before the fire alarm blared through the house, the smell of something burning permeating from the kitchen.
“Shit shit shit! Everything fucking fine!” Jason could be heard shouting, voice raising as he did so over the fire alarm before Tim was suddenly on the move, quickly. With each strobe of the alarm Bruce could now feel himself aging five years, mind doing a full one eighty, now questioning why he ever thought this was a good idea to begin with.
Everything after that happened a little too suddenly for Bruce to even keep track of.
One moment the fire alarm is blaring, then Tims running out, Jason's running out, eyes a sickly neon green that
Bruce didn't like to see, Dick running up from where he had been down in the cave to see a green-eyed Jason stalking a little too close to where Tim had bolted too, Dick placing himself in front of the man.
Naturally catching the attention of Steph and Cass, Cass sees something she doesn't like and makes her way out quickly as well, of courts when Damian sees as fierce a warrior as Cain making a tactical retreat, he trusts her judgment enough to do the same and hurrying his way out of the crossfire as Jason tried to push past dick, while bruce saw duke ducking into the kitchen for a moment before the alarm stopped blaring, thankfully and resurfacing.``sounds like we had a bit of an overflow moment?” Dick offered tone even as he did, keeping his hand outstretched so that he wasn't touching Jason, but also so Jason wasn't getting closer.
“You okay little wing? Dick asked carefully
Jason grumbled as he took another step forward earning a surprised trill out of Dick when he did, at least that made Jason pause, take a step back and roll out his shoulders a little his eyes looking a little less green than a moment ago.
“Things got… intense suddenly.” Jason said, a little sheepishly as Tim's head poked around the corner “am I dead for good?” he asked, clearly the wrong thing to say as that green tint returned Jason surging forward before Dick pushed him back, Duke rushing between Tim and Jason, telling Tim it was time to leave the room to no avail as Jason tried side-stepping Dick, ending a little too close to Duke before the lights all flickered and three fire alarms now blaring.
“Fuck.” Bruce managed to hear dick shout, gripping tightly to Jason's shirt as his eyes got greener, Bruce was about to intervene himself and deal with the emotional whiplash of all of them before the entire display was interrupted with a sharp knocking that reverberated through the house.
Once, twice, three times.
It was the door knocker.
Who the fuck would be using the door knocker?
The entire manor had suddenly fallen silent, the fire alarms off, his fighting kids halting as the green miraculously drained from Jason's eyes leaving them blank and white once again.
Odd.
Before anyone could do anything it came again. “Knunk knunk knunk.”
Bruce reached out first, trying to see what he could through the shadows on the property.
He didn't need to look for long, upon the first sight of her colorful array of bags Bruce knew who it was immediately.
“It's a friend,” he told the rest of them before rushing out, into the abandoned and destroyed foyer, long since abandoned truly, and swung open the creaking front door with a small smile on his lips as he did.
The overwhelming sense of deja vu hitting him as he did so, the long repeated memory of Bruce as a child being so caught up in the buzz of holidays and helping Alfred that the knock on the door always caused Bruce to drop everything to rush and answer it to find Esther there for Christmas after spending yule with her own family.`
For that one moment at opening the door it felt just like it always had, the immediate excitement at getting to see Esther again something only magnified after having not seen her in so long.
What did he even say?
They both had kids now? They both had jobs. What was he even supposed to do?
Esther, ever unfazed by Bruce's long silence just smiled and said “I think I'm overdue in meeting your children. Well, out of their colorful suits that is.'' She smiled cheekily at Bruce, that same look in her eyes that always said ‘I know something you don't.’ a look Esther never seemed to be without for long.
“Would you like to come in?” Bruce offered to make space for her to walk through, easily avoiding the floorboards that creaked before pursuing, turning to one particular one, and pressing her foot down on it a few times rather deliberately to hear it squeak.
“You’ll want to replace that one soon,” she advised him.
Bruce nodded, knowing not to doubt that advice.
“Will do,” he assured before they entered the maintained part of the manor Esther immediately looked around and grinned at the surroundings, eyes landing on all the kids now conveniently milling around in the living room, seemingly intrigued by the unexpected stranger.
“Kids, this is Esther.” Bruce started, a bit awkwardly, though in hindsight that may have been all that was needed seeing as they seem only all knew her immediately.
“Like The Esther? From scrapbooks?” Dick asked, amazed.
“What dirt did you have on B as a kid?” Jason asked at the same time.
The stark contrast makes Esther snort.
“Good to know I'm famous then.” Esther chuckled setting down her bags as Bruce hurried to clear off a seat for her, allowing Esther to get comfortable before seemingly all of them had forgotten about the high-stress situation only a few moments prior, looking around now to see them all sitting around in the living room suddenly very excited to have the now not so stranger here.
“Tell us everything about baby bruce.” Steph insisted excitedly, and by the smile on Esther's lips, Bruce didn't need to be here for storytime.
Hen trusted Esther, and he trusted his children… enough.
So Bruce decided to go see the damage done to the kitchen while also removing the ‘i fuck bats’ sign out of Esther's sight not wanting to have to explain that inside joke his kids started.
It actually didn't look too bad, it would seem the two were attempting to simmer off some sort of spicy-smelling paste, by the looks of it most seemed salvageable, only the bits charred onto the pan would need to be tossed, so bruce went to find a container for the rest before seeing that Jason had written down the recipe.
Bruce supposed it wouldn't hurt for himself to start it, maybe less hostile than Jason and Tim returning to the kitchen after such an episode, so Bruce got to work, having had enough experience making various teas and whatnot for Damian, back when it was only just the two of them and Damian was still learning that he was not a weapon, as well as bruce learning that his child was basically feral.
The only middle ground they found was nighttime when Bruce had finally convinced Mr. ‘I have no bad memories, nor do I have nightmares that it was never a bad time for a hot drink, even managing even now to have convinced Damian that Bruce truly loves chamomile tea. It did have a calming note to it, if a bit flat for him, whatever worked to get Damian to feel safe enough to come to bruce.
Even now Bruce still found himself falling into that rhythm of making tea, having to stop himself when reaching for the bags and referring to the recipe multiple times as Bruce began getting the milk to begin warming up, double and triple checking that all ingredients were within reach, remembering all the times he had forgotten one ingredient or another only for it all to be ruined like that.
No fires this time. His kids have had to deal with enough fires, from enough fucked up people. They didn't need to associate the manor with fire as well.
It was a little too easy to fall back into the rhythm of things like this, really if it weren't for Bruce's shadow sense he wouldn't have even been aware of Jason walking in behind Bruce.
“Keep stirring the milk.” was all Jason said as Bruce went on, continuing to make a batch big enough for everyone to have some while Jason came up next to bruce with a new pan and began making a batch big enough for one.
Bruce couldn't help the fond flutter in his chest at that.
He used to be upset that Jason didn't trust him enough to let Bruce prepare food for him, he even took it as a personal insult for longer than he probably should have until Steph had laughed in bruce's face and told the man that Jason did it because it to annoy bruce.
That allowed Bruce enough leeway to allow it to stop bothering him, now it was almost like an inside joke. Like hinting at the two almost having a functional relationship. So the two finished their batches in silence, Bruce finishing first though needing more time to let it cool before dividing it and calling all of them to come to get a mug, bringing one directly in for Esther warning her first, she simply waved him off.
“Who babysat who Brucie?” Esther chided, taking a tentative sip before furrowing her brow a little perplexed.
“It's confusing,” she said, taking another sip, then another.
“It's like… a very savory broth… but with a little chocolate.” She said with a shrug taking another sip before setting her mug aside, Bruce took his own sip and see what she meant, that immediate sting of salt hitting him with the slightest bit of sweetness on its aftertaste.
All his kids seemed quite fond of it, drinking happily, and sitting in one room together, without the tv on. And no one is punching the others.
This was a fucking miracle.
Whatever angelic being Esther was, he hoped she had earned her wings or the equivalent for all this.
Even if Esther did not intend to cause such a calm, no, that look in her eye again, Esther always knew something he didn't, and it was the most infuriating thing in the world.
All the same, Esther was Esther, and she held her cards tightly.
She was someone that openly held every secret behind lock and key, only jingling the keYs about from time to time as a reminder of them.
And yet something told Bruce that eventually, Esther would share every one of those secrets, so long as he did not force it.
Brushing the more puzzling thoughts aside, Bruce watched happily as Esther took out her numerous bags with her, producing a beautifully knitted blanket for each one of them as Bruce watched in… confusion. Confusion because something had changed with Esther. The woman who held onto her knitted items so tightly that she once threatened to rip out the green blanket Bruce loved if he ever put it in the washer, though a threat that likely still stood.
Here he saw her… handing out hand-knit queen-size blankets. Thinking back to the green blanket Bruce had found on the ledge, the same one that the green arrow had tried to lure Robin with and that Bruce had cherished and looked for his entire childhood.
What had changed with his old friend that she was now… gifting them freely, to eight kids she hardly knows.
Bruce would learn in due time he was supposed, seeing all of them distracted while examining their new blankets as he took the chance to slide over and sit next to Esther.
“How are you able to make these so fast?” Bruce asked her, brow creased in confusion.
The look came back followed by a warm smile.
“I had some help.” she offered veugly Bruce nodded all the same.
For his own piece of mind, he would dare to guess her daughter helped.
“How is your daughter?” Bruce asked instead, causing her to perk up a little.
“Oh, she's wonderful! The cafe is thriving.” Esther beamed before looking as if remembering something.
“I also just adopted out the last litter of puppies, I'm thinking in the next couple of months or so we may have a new litter of great Dane pups on the way.” she smiled knowingly at Bruce who could only chuckle.
“We’ll see.” Bruce rolled his eyes not missing Damian's sudden laser focus on their conversation. Bruce instead takes that as a cue to stand up with his own now empty mug offering to take Esthers for her.
She instead stood up with it, saying
“I’d like to see the kitchen, I think.” With a hum, Bruce led the way allowing her to look around, seeing the little statue of Hestia as well as Nyx on the small offering platter off to the side.
“They used to have a little Hermes with them.” she mused as Bruce remembered that.
“Damian tends to run off with it from time to time, less so these days but…” he trailed off with a shrug, Esther seaming to nod knowingly before turning to look at bruce, analyzing every inch of him, not batman, not the little kid she babysat, instead someone seemingly frozen at twenty-five dressed in black sweatpants and a gray hoodie and looking like he had seen a lifetime's worth of grief and yet something brighter was still there, something that wasn't there when Bruce had first returned to Gotham.
“Fatherhood looks good on you,” Esther said finally, catching the man slightly off guard.
“I-thank you.” he stammered looking away a little and Esther couldn't help but wonder if he would be blushing if he could.
“It didn't always work out… a lot of the times didn't work out.” he winced as he did so as if thinking of something painful.
“And yet you keep going, and you keep trying, and when you fail, you try again.” Esther smiled, reaching out and placing a hand on Bruce's shoulder.
“Alfred would be proud of the man you have become,” she said sincerely seeing Bruce's face twist into so many different emotions from sad to happy to concerned then embarrassed before settling onto an over all constipated expression as he seemed to grapple with what to say.
“You remember what I said about the anniversary?” she asked Bruce instead, giving him a pointed look.
He seemed to deflate a little at that.
“Yeah… I do.” he sighed.
“Think about it bruce. They have a right to at least know where they can find their grandfather,” she said softly before standing on her tiptoes and ruffling Bruce's hair before he could bat her away with a chuckle.
“I'll think about it.” he amends making her smile.
“That's all I ask.” Esther agreed, a comfortable lull of silence passing over them, bruce turning to wash the mugs before a loud crack was heard followed by a thump finished by the muffled sound of someone shouting “fuck!”
Bruce groaned.
“Richard,” he called out in a calm tone, immediately receiving echoes.
“Oooooooh!” sounded to come from multiple people and Bruce's eldest ran past the kitchen door in another direction as Bruce shook his head.
“Boyfriend.” He confirms earning a knowing nod from Esther as she went to wander back towards the sitting area, turning the corner and coming face to face with Bruce's daughter by the looks of it. Cassie? Cass? One of the two she recalled.
“You… are… odd…” she said slowly, stilted twitching words reminiscent of a slower inflection to how the other children spoke.
“That I am dear.” Esther decided on it.
She narrowed her eyes a little at Esther, seeming to analyze her for a long moment before a swift nod and a quirk of the lips the atmosphere letting up in a way Esther had not fully been aware of. That was strange, she didn't realize things had warped for a moment there, something to note she supposed, making her way to exchange more stories with bruce's children hoping to be able to see them again sometime, even if not in such close quarters, sadly though it wasn't long till she had to leave giving each one that wanted a hug one, especially Tim who seemed all too pleased with the day's events even after Esther had left. She was fascinating. She was also hiding things. Things that Tim was all too eager to uncover.
When offered a hug, you take it, dig out their wallet and ID, look through it, take some secret photos and slip it back before anyone notices in the lengthy goodbyes.
Though all that analysis can wait for later, tonight Tim only wants to do one thing, and that allows a rare moment to stop working entirely and only enjoy the show he’s watching, having always used background noise. It is nice to be able to give your full attention to the story, even more so when there are other people there watching it with you.
Tim had of course found lots of his memories from being alive, it helps a lot when there are people documenting your day-to-day movements down to the irregular heartbeat. Sure Tim had memories and backlogs documenting visits with his parents that time of year, when they came out three of the days for Hanukkah once, each time bringing him a present, one of them being an electric menorah with bulbs he could twist to turn on.
He thought his parents cared about him so much back then. He had convinced himself the movies were only that, movies and fake/made up stories. He never questioned the differences between the doctors, nurses, and scientists around him as opposed to what was on the screen because it was all fake.
He knew the truth now, took him long enough but, sitting where he was, surrounded by the people he was with, nothing felt like it was wrong.
How could anything feel wrong right now? Looking up he could see Dick wearing a flannel pajama set of all things in the chandelier, cuddled up next to a grumbling Damian whose anger was entirely canceled out by the fact the kid was not doing anything to lean away from affection. Jason sitting on one end of the couch reading a book, Duke sitting next to Tim on the floor, and Bruce sitting opposite Jason. And cas and steph cuddled up in the center of the sofa.
They would all need to go on patrol soon, no doubt someone has big plans tonight, but before that Tim is more than happy sitting around his dysfunctional-as-hell family watching the original Grinch and pretending they were in a hallmark movie cause god damnit did it feel like that.