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“Ti~im,” Dick’s voice crooned in his ear, “it’s time to get u~up.”
“Mph,” Tim replied, and buried his face in his pillow. Dick snatched it away.
“Come on, Tim, it’s Christmas! We have to go see what Santa brought us!”
“I find it extremely disturbing,” Tim mumbled, rolling away from his lover, “that you apparently think I’m young enough to believe in Santa and yet are still sleeping with me. What time is it, anyway?”
“Well, Damian doesn’t believe in Santa.” Dick sounded wistful, and Tim made a mental note that the “kids” conversation would probably need to be derailed soon. “And it’s seven. Bright and early on Christmas morning!”
Tim groaned and made a grab for the pillow, but Dick held it out of his reach. “Damian is too old to believe in Santa even for a normal child. Have you gotten him up yet?”
“I tried,” Dick said sadly. “He threw knives at me and told me to leave him alone immediately if I valued my life.”
“Well, as much as I hate to agree with him...” Tim grabbed for the pillow again, and Dick let him have it. “It’s Christmas, Dick. We all have the whole day off. We can relax.” He settled the pillow back under his head, blinking up at Dick blearily.
“Alfred is already up,” Dick sighed, looking at him pleadingly.
“Then you can go bother Alfred. Or you can go wake Bruce up.” Dick looked like he was seriously considering this, so Tim went on quickly. “Or, since I’m up now anyway-” he reached up for Dick.
“Yeah?” Dick murmured, leaning down. “This mean I do get a present this morning?” Tim pulled him into a kiss. After a moment, Dick broke away. “Ugh, you have morning breath.”
Tim hit him with the pillow.