Work Text:
A muffled voice could be heard from the record player in the living room as Bruce brushed back Dicks hair. The little boy’s cowlick shot back to its natural position in the center of his forehead.
Dick stared at himself in the mirror, his nose scrunching a bit at the crisp, manicured look of his hair “I don’t look like me” He complained, messing with his choir robes as he watched Bruce fight with the stubborn curl of hair “It’s not staying.”
Bruce squinted as he zeroed in on the nuisance “I see that.” He ran the brush firmly across the hair, pushing it to the right, “The hair gel is supposed to help.”
“How do you know?”
“Alfred used to put it in my hair” He grunted, still focused on the cowlick that refused to be moved, no matter how much gel he smeared on it.
Dick fidgeted slightly, his arms and legs tired of staying still “I didn’t know you wear hair gel”
“I don’t”
Bruce reached into the basket of various hair tools bought by Alfred, many of which he’d never seen in his life. He fished around for something else to try, his hand running over the random supplies. After a moment he grabbed one and pulled it out, showing it to the boy.
Dick shook his head “I think that's for baby hair, it will be too small”
Bruce grumbled, throwing the small tool back into the bin. He felt around for a moment and pulled out a wide boar brush. After a shrug from Dick, Bruce pushed the cowlick to one side, using the coarser bristles to force it down.
“Ow”
The boy winced as the rough material of the brush scraped his head, making Bruce pause “Sorry.”
“Is the gel not working?” Dick tapped his fingers on his stool, “Maybe you’re not using enough.”
“It claims to be compatible with all hair types.” Bruce picked up the container, reading the label aloud. “Grab a goop, the fastest and easiest hair styling gel since 1957”
Dick shrugged, the slightly too big robe swallowing the movement of his shoulders “False advertising.” He stared at Bruce a moment before speaking again “Do I have to go?”
“Yes”
“I won’t have time for a gift! Or putting out milk and cookies! Or dinner!” Dick whined.
“It’s from five to seven. You will have plenty of time for all of that” Bruce responded calmly.
Dick huffed, but didn’t argue.
Bruce sighed, grabbing another handful of gel and lathering it on like shampoo, before once again smoothing it down against the rest of Dick’s hair. It stayed there for a second, before bouncing up like a flower in spring.
The boy swayed gently in unison with the music a floor below, singing along quietly with it, “I’m dreaming of a white-”
“Be still” Bruce commanded, though it came out more like a gentle reminder, rather than instruction.
Dick paused, sitting up straight on his stool. He sat there like that for only a few moments before quietly resuming his singing. His legs, which couldn’t quite touch the bottom, made small kicking motions to the beat of the music.
“Just like the ones we used to know”
Resigned to accept this was the closest he would get, he focused on conversation to keep dick busy, rather than just orders or instructions. “I didn’t know you knew that song” Bruce brushed the curl back as he spoke.
Dick paused, smiling like Bruce had said the funniest thing in the world “Course I do. I’ve watched the chipmunk movies multiple times, I listen to their music like… I don’t know, a lot”. His blue eyes twinkled with joy “You ever watched that movie?”
“No”. With a bit more gel and a few more passes over the problem area, dick’s hair was stuck firmly in place. “Done”, Bruce sighed, putting the brush back in the bin and the lid back on the gel.
Dick looked at his hair in the mirror, turning side to side checking for anywhere it needed fixing, before turning back to face Bruce “We should watch it.” His eyes went wide “Bow-tie!”
Bruce froze. “What?”
The boy pointed at his neck, handing Bruce a fancy satin tie “My bow-tie!”
“Oh” Bruce stared at the tie.
Dick once again handed Bruce the satin tie.
“Alfred will do it.”
Dick jumped off the stool, landing on his dress shoes with a click. He followed Bruce out of the bathroom, into the hallway, and down the stairs “Why?”
“I don’t know how” Bruce turned around abruptly on the stairs, grabbing dick by the scruff of the choir robe before he could jump down the steps. “No.”
Dick, of course, whined in frustration “I could have cleared it, I know I could! I’ve done way more dangerous things before!” He hung slightly, his toes barely touching the ground as he dangled in Bruce’s grasp.
Bruce pulled at the side of Dick’s clothing “You’re wearing white”. Slowly he lowered him back onto the ground “It starts at five. Don’t be late”
Dick ran down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where the smell of fresh ginger bread filled the air.
Bruce followed, appearing behind Dick to see Alfred taking a sheet of cookies out of the oven, and humming along to the record player a room away.
“Ah, you’re ready.” Alfred gently placed the baking sheet down on the stove top before turning around to face the two “Well mostly ready. Where is your tie Master Richard?”
Dick walked behind the counter, handing Alfred the satin tie “I want a bow-tie”
Alfred shook his head, taking the child-size tie “The school requested all ties remain as ties, no bow I’m afraid”
The boy nodded sadly “Ok”
Alfred bent down, quickly doing up Dick’s tie and tucking it into his robe,“Now you’re ready”. He stood back up, “If we want to beat the traffic, we should go now”
Dick perked up “Can we play Christmas music?”
“Of course”
Alfred turned to Bruce “I will be back shortly. I’ll drop off Master Richard first of course. Please be ready to leave when I return”. He paused “Don’t eat the cookies” Then he turned away and back to Dick “shall we?”
“We shall” The boy impersonated Alfred’s accent, faking his British way of speaking. He skipped off toward the elevator downstairs. Alfred followed, walking, and they were gone.
Bruce waited a few seconds, almost expecting the elevator to open again, Dick running out because he forgot something, but it didn’t happen. After a few minutes he made his way back upstairs, and into his closet. He found a freshly ironed suit hung up for him on the door, clearly Alfred’s doing.
He put it on, being careful to maintain the crisp lines and cleanliness of the button up, then the pants, and finally the jacket. The tie remained on the hanger to be put on by Alfred.
The only thing missing from the set up were his cufflinks. He looked around the floor in case somehow he’d missed them falling from the outfit, however there was nothing there. He then opened his jewelry box, grabbing one of his father’s old watches while he was there; a simple gold one, with a small rectangular clock. He fished around the box again. No cufflinks there either.
He turned around, hand skimming through the cologne, something he normally avoided wearing. He grabbed a simple maroon bottle at the back. It smelled the same as its exterior; a faint musky and woody scent, with something sweet smelling strongest. Some kind of baked treat like cookies or cake. It reminded him of his mother, she’d worn it a lot around their home, the scent mixing with whatever Alfred made for dessert. She’d liked it because it was unisex, suitable for both men and women.
Bruce sprayed a small amount on the side of his neck, enough to be able to smell it himself, but not enough for it to be noticeable to those around.
He made his way back into his bedroom, grabbing a pair of socks from his drawer to match with his black dress shoes. They were long, and thick, perfect for the cool weather outside. He slid his feet into his socks, then into his shoes.
Before he went downstairs, he went back to his closet one final time, to look for his cufflinks. When he found none, he took his wool coat, leather gloves from the designated winter section, and of course the tie, then made his way to the first floor of the house.
Bruce sat on the couch in the living room, listening to the record player, which was now playing “silver bells” just loud enough to hear the words through the wall. He only had to wait a few minutes before the elevator door opened, and Alfred walked out.
“You’re back” He said, as he stared from his seat.
Alfred turned suddenly, spooked “Oh. I didn’t expect you to be down here yet”. He walked closer, leaving a trail of water behind him like a slug trail “You ready?”
Bruce handed Alfred the tie, and squatted down slightly so he could tie it around his neck.
“This used to be a lot easier, when you were small,” Alfred said standing on his tiptoes as he wrapped the tie around his neck. He paused, sniffing the air “Are you wearing your mother’s perfume?”
Bruce nodded.
“Very good. I think she’d have liked you using it too. Not letting it go to waste, I mean” Alfred cleared his throat, transitioning to something less sensitive. He finished the knot in the tie, letting his feet fall flat again “One of these days I hope you learn to do this for yourself”
Bruce lifted his hands to the tie, adjusting it to be comfortable. He grumbled in response, something about “more important things” when Alfred stopped him, pointing at his sleeves.
“Where are your cufflinks?”
Bruce raised his shoulders, shrugging “I don’t know.”
Alfred sighed, reaching for his sleeve with his right hand, and pulling off one of the shiny gold buttons “Take mine.”
Bruce put up his own hand to stop him “Alfred I don’t want your cufflinks.”
“Whether you like it or not, you're Wayne. You’ve got to keep up appearances. If not for you, then for Master Richard” He reached for the other side, pulling that one off too and holding them out.
Bruce hesitantly took them, sliding each through the holes of his sleeves and clipping the pin part together. “Thanks.”
Alfred nodded in acknowledgement “Car’s ready if you are.”
Bruce mentally checked over everything in his head. Suit, check. Coat, check. gloves, check. Cufflinks, check. Phone and wallet, check and check again. He scanned down the list quickly, looking for anything that couldn’t be forgotten. When he could find none, he shook his head. “I have everything”
Alfred smiled “Very good. Keep the coat on, you’ll need it.”
Bruce followed Alfred into the elevator and downstairs into the covered driveway in front of Wayne Tower. In it one of his many cars sat, a black corvette stingray dick had nicknamed the “Brucemobil” due to it being used for civilian purposes.
“Get in before the snow starts back up” Alfred said, opening the door to the backseat.
Bruce quickly ducked into the car, sitting down, and buckling his seat belt.
Alfred closed the door behind him, walking around the back to the driver's seat and getting in “Seat belt?”
“It’s on.”
“Its about a thirty minute drive there because of the traffic, but I have a short cut, so it will be only be about twenty”. The engine hummed gently as Alfred took off the brake, slowly easing his way out of the drop off spot.
Bruce watched as the surrounding buildings of Wayne Tower faded into the cacophony of sky scrappers. He stared out his window, watching the outside as they drove down the streets. Small bits of snow fell over the car, sticking to the glass and making it harder to see.
“I always forget how beautiful it looks during Christmas.”
Bruce looked up at Alfred from the window, surprised “what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just that the rest of the year Gotham looks so dreary, I forget it can be beautiful”
From the backseat, he could see the lights strung across the building reflecting through the front window on to Alfred. Particles of red and green danced across his face, masking the wrinkles around his eyes. For a moment, Alfred looked younger, almost the same as he had in Bruce’s childhood memories. He sat there, eyes unable to focus at the sight before him.
“Yeah.”
Alfred stared at the multicolored lights and garland, almost mesmerized “It brings me back.” He shook his head, focusing back on the road “Anyway.”
Bruce blinked a few times, and the allusion was gone.
The rest of the drive was spent in silence; Alfred giving his full attention to the growing traffic, Bruce on his phone, avoiding looking out the window or at Alfred.
It ended ten minutes later, the car pulled out in front of the same chapel the old mayor’s funeral was in a year before. After the explosion, the main sanctuary had been left in total disrepair. Thanks to a few charitable Wayne and anonymous Wayne donations, it had been fully restored to its original beauty.
Bruce opened the door, stepping out into the trampled snow, its pure white having been long muddied by the footsteps of those entering the service. He walked up the steps, passing the greeters as he walked through the front entrance.
Once inside he sat in one of the back rows, looking down at his phone as he waited for Dick and all the other children in the choir to take the stage. After they were done, he and Dick would leave. He'd only attended to see him perform, and after that was over, he’d have no reason to stay. A part of him however, knew his real reason was being in public left him vulnerable, and he wanted to avoid getting recognized as much as possible. That and he just didn’t like social situations.
As it neared five, more and more people began flooding in. The church pews filled quickly, and spots became harder to find, forcing people into the second floor.
A couple with a baby ended up sitting next to him. He’d been nose deep in his phone as he desperately avoided making eye contact or being talked to when he’d been interrupted by a woman. She tapped his shoulder gently, making him look up. The woman, maybe 25, with dark curly hair, asked if he was ok with sitting next to an infant. He’d nodded awkwardly before quickly looking back down at his phone. Now, he sat with a pram beside him. The young woman, and an equally young man, whom he’d assumed as her husband, sat on the other side of the small baby.
Bruce stayed on his phone for another five minutes, until he felt another tap on his shoulder. He turned back to the woman, ready to respond to whatever she asked of him this time. However when he looked at the mother, her eyes were on the man, not him. It was only when he looked a bit further to his right he saw a different woman behind him. The new mayor, Bella Reál.
When she saw she’d gotten his attention she smiled “Mr. Wayne, sorry to bother you here.”
He turned around to face her “But?”
She continued “Well I tried to get in contact after the whole… after the previous event here. But I could never get through to you. I assumed it was due to your new ward”
Bruce stared at her perfect smile. Not one of a friend, or foe, rather someone who was being polite because she needed an ‘in’ to talk business. He raised the corners of his mouth into an almost smile, trying to seem happy about talking. “I’ve been busy.”
Bella nodded understandingly “I’m sure. Adoption is hard work, no matter what age. That’s part of the reason I came to speak with you.”
He nodded, his eyes wanting to wander back to his phone.
“Your willingness to adopt makes me think you’d be the perfect person to help kick start a bunch of the old community assistance programs. I’d love to talk through some of my ideas with you.” She pointed at the front of the chapel “They saved me a spot at the front. Why don’t you come join me up there?”
Bruce’s eyes followed her pointer finger to the pew in the very first row, his smile dropping instantly. Thankfully it was plastered on his face again before the new Mayor could see his hesitation “Oh.”
She stared at him, clearly expecting him to agree to the move.
“Uh” he forced an overly happy smile, hoping it would come off genuine “Ok.”
Bella stood there, her eyes continuing to watch him as he stood up and awkwardly asked the people in his row to stand up one by one, so he could move past them. Each time he cringed at the way all of them looked up at him from their seats, then stood, only for him to have to shuffle past them in the too small pews.
She met him at the very end of the row, standing on the long carpet rolled out along the aisle. Bella made sure he was fully out before patting his shoulder, “I need to speak with a few more people before the service begins. I’ll meet you up at the front” and walking away to talk with someone a few rows ahead.
He stood there alone for a few seconds before slowly making his way to the front of the chapel. As he walked, it seemed those sitting were watching, turning their heads to see who was getting to move to the front. Maybe wondering who he was, why he got special treatment. Perhaps they just assumed he was part of the church, and was going to begin the service. Or maybe they were just jealous, pointing and gossiping about him. One woman in particular wasn’t sly about her stubby finger, loudly whispering to the person beside her about “The guy who got the dead acrobat’s kid” like Dick was nothing more than someone's orphan. It made him want to turn around, say something and set the record straight. But he didn't. Instead he walked faster, sitting in the front row as quickly as possible.
Bruce sat there, staring straight ahead. He refused to distract himself, for fear of appearing weak and non confrontational. He refused to look back, not wanting to start something on Christmas Eve. So, having no other option, he watched the stage, desperate for the choir to distract the more vocal members of the crowd.
After a few minutes, Bella rushed over, sitting down just before the house lights dimmed, then turned off entirely, leaving only the bright lights of the stage to illuminate the room.
He watched the first row of children, no older than six, walk across the stage and into the risers. No Dick. Once they were in their spots, another group, this time probably eight-ish, made their way to the tier above the first. No Dick. The third row walked up the stairs, this group was bigger, probably between nine and eleven. He watched as about ten children walked across the stage before he saw him. Dick, with his little cowlick out again, as he followed the other kids in a single file line into their spots.
Dick stood on the third row, two kids shy of the center, straight across from where Bruce sat. He looked out into the crowd, squinting at the bright lights in his face as he scanned for his guardian. After a moment he locked eyes with him, his face lighting up. He smiled wide, the gap in his canine tooth being the only one missing.
Dick looked back and forth to make sure no one was looking before raising his hand ever so slightly to wave at Bruce. Bruce waved back, pausing to point at his own forehead to ask about the cowlick situation. Dick just shrugged.
The final group of children walked in a single file line across the stage, though he hadn’t paid that much attention outside of acknowledging they had found the top row of the risers.
The conductor stood from the pews on the other side of the aisle, walking to the middle of the children, and pulling out a baton. Bruce, eyes still focused on his ward, watched as Dick turned to the man in the center, smiling dropping as he focused on the actual performance. The conductor tapped his baton once, then twice, then three times in a row, before raising his other hand to help guide the children.
In unison, all four rows opened their mouths for a breath before they began singing. The chapel filled the beginning notes of ‘O Holy Night’ and the harmonious voices of children.
“Oh holy night, the stars are brightly shining…”
The sound of the young voices echoed to the back of the room, bouncing off walls and reverberating back, creating a strong powerful sound. From where Bruce sat, he was close enough to hear the raw children's song first, then the echo once it made its way back to him.
He stared at Dick, who stared at his conductor, squinting slightly in the spotlight.
His ward blended in with all the others on paper. Same clothes, same hair style, same song. But there was something about the light that made him stand out from the crowd to Bruce. The stage lights above reflected off his skin like highlights, making him look like he was glowing from within.
Bruce sat still, his body frozen in place as he stared at Dick like he’d seen a ghost. They’d never changed the robes, buying the exact same style every year. They never changed the song, it was always O Holy Night. Never changed the date, or even the time. The same private elementary forcing Dick to sing like a choir boy, had done the same to him as a boy.
For a second he could see it crystal clear, standing about where his ward was as he sang to his parents, sitting proudly in the first row. It was so real he could almost touch it, reach out, or wave to them from the risers like Dick had done to him. He could see his father giving him two thumbs up as he walked across the stage, his choir robe just a bit too long. He could remember the smile of his mother as she swayed along that first time in kindergarten, how she’d done it the year after, and the year after that…
He’d started fourth grade at that school, Alfred thought staying somewhere he already knew gave him "normalcy". He was pulled out before the first quarter was even over. Too many kids asking too many questions he wasn’t ready for, and so, he’d been placed in a new school, one that sent private tutors and teachers to him directly. He’d resumed regular schooling when he moved to middle school, the tragic death of the Wayne’s was old news by then.
He wasn’t that child anymore, he wasn’t even that man anymore. No longer was he scared and angry, desperate to understand why something so terrible had happened to him, and those around him. He didn’t blame society, or Alfred, or his parents anymore, He couldn’t even blame himself. Dick was to thank for that, whether the boy knew or not.
At one point in his life, he’d stood on those risers as a child performing for his parents, but now, he was the parent. Dick took his place, and he took his parents. He watched Dick on the stage, the light of the boy's face refracting off him to shine back on Bruce. As the children… As Dick sang, if only for a moment, there was no Gotham. No Wayne. No vengeance. Only a man and his boy.
The choir ended not long after that, their conductor quieting them simply by drawing a fast horizontal line. Quickly they dispersed, the lights came back on as the children ran to their parents. Bruce scanned the crowd for Dick, standing with the rest of the families looking for their kids.
Bella stood as well, putting her hand out for a handshake. “It was nice to see you, even if I didn’t get a chance to talk. I’ll call to discuss more ideas.”
Bruce glanced at her, that forced smile returning as he hesitantly took her hand, shaking it, before he was off into the crowd of parents.
He made his way to the back of the chapel, head darting from left to right, looking for his ward. “Dick?” he called out, hoping the boy would hear him “Dick?”. He tried once again, yelling louder this time “Richard?”
The boy popped up to his left, his face beaming with pride “Bruce! Did you see me? Did I do good?”
“There you are. Did you not hear me?”
Dick nodded like a bobble head “I was over there” he turned around, pointing at the back wall lined with other children “When I saw you, I came over”
Bruce looked over before looking back at the boy “Oh” he paused “Alfred has the car, unless you want to stay for the candle lighting?”
Dick shook his head just as vigorously as he’d nodded only a second ago. “I want to go home. I won’t have time to put out cookies if I don’t” He reached for Bruce's hand.
Bruce sighed, intertwining his hand with Dick’s, both walking out the front.
The boy swung his arm back and forth, moving Bruce's as well. “Did you see me? Did I do good? You never answered!” He skipped, or at least tried to, being stopped only by Bruce’s unwillingness to join him.
“I did. You did good”
Dick smiled, trying to start up a skip again “B!”
Bruce shook his head “I am not skipping. Holding hands is… enough”
The boy grumbled, but quickly accepted it, hopping and leaping on his own, while Bruce walked awkwardly beside, holding the smaller hand.
They found Alfred, quietly waiting in the car listening to Christmas music. Bruce opened the backseat door, letting Dick get in first. Upon entering the car immediately rambled about the event. Bruce got in beside him, and closed the door.
“I did great. The choir director made me sing a higher part though because Denny wasn’t here, He’s at home sick.”
Bruce turned left, Alfred looked back in his rearview mirror, both looking at Dick “Buckle.” They said in unison, same tone and everything.
The boy pointed to his seat belt, pulling at it “I am, look!”. He sighed “Anyway I really liked it. The lights were super duper bright.”
Alfred started the car, carefully maneuvering his way around those exiting the chapel and the other cars on the road “Were they?”
“Like really bright”
Bruce turned to Dick “They were like that when I was younger.”
“They were blinding” The boy sighed, flicking his hands out at Bruce like a firework “Probably the same lights they use in high beams”
Alfred turned onto the main street, finally out of the mess that was parking “Really?”
“Mmmhmm.”
Alfred glanced behind in the rear view mirror “We’ll be home in about ten to fifteen minutes. I baked another batch of cookies. They’ll be done when we get home. If Master Bruce is ok with it… maybe you can have one”
Dick turned toward Bruce, gently tugging on his suit “Can I?”
Bruce nodded.
The boy gave a thumbs up to Alfred “He says I can have six.”
Bruce turned, eyes wide “I- wait no”
Alfred smiled. “Well of course if Master Bruce says that alright, you can have six.”
“I didn’t say he could have six.”
Dick leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the back of Alfred’s headrest “He’s right. B said I could have eight”
The rest of the ride was spent with a nine year old talking as loud as possible, a fifty-five year old encouraging the first, to the dismay of the twenty-eight year old, trapped in the same car.
Alfred pulled in front of the Wayne building, parking as he waited for Bruce and Dick to exit “I’ll be up shortly. Make sure the cookies aren’t burning.”
Bruce opened his door, holding it for Dick, who quickly popped out onto the sidewalk.
The boy turned back to the car “How will we know if it’s burning?”
“You’ll smell it.”
Bruce closed the door, pulling dick away from the road for safety. “It’s cold.”
Dick waved his hand dismissingly “I won’t freeze” he insisted, though the chill of his arms, and lack of coat said otherwise.
Bruce pulled the boy closer, letting his wool coat drape around him “I’m sure.”
They made their way inside, Dick, despite his earlier claim, remained close to Bruce, staying covered by the coat. The lobby was warmer, and the apartment even more so. They took the elevator up to the top. Bruce removed his coat and gloves, leaving them on the couch. Dick ran upstairs, changing into the matching Christmas PJ’s he’d made Bruce buy.
“Look!” he called from the top step, pointing at the Rudolf design on his shirt.
“I see”
Dick stared at Bruce from the landing “Why aren’t you in yours?”
Bruce froze “I really don't-”
“You have to! It's Christmas!” The boy interrupted, bolting from the top into Bruce’s room.
Bruce followed quickly, worried Dick might go searching and find something he wasn’t meant to see “Dick!” he yelled from the stairs “Dick wait!”
“I already know your Batman.” The boy’s voice came, muffled by drawers and doors.
At the top, Bruce turned and ran into his room, grabbing Dick’s torso and lifting him in the air “That’s not what I’m-” He stopped himself “Never mind.”
He put the boy down.
“If I put it on, do you promise not to go looking through my stuff again?”
Dick’s eyes lit up, and he nodded “Ok sure.”
Bruce looked at the door, then Dick, then the door again. “Go turn back on the record player”
The boy nodded, running out of the room. Bruce could hear the ‘thump thump thump’ of fast feet scurrying down the wood steps. The Christmas music from earlier made its way through the floor.
Bruce sat on his bed, slowly unlacing his shoes, and pulling off his socks. There was a loud crash, and the sound of breaking glass on the first floor. He froze, eyes wide as he listened. Nothing but the pounding of his heart and the music in the library. He instantly panicked pulling off his dress pants, his tie, and dress shirt. Then quickly changed into the bright holiday sleepwear Dick had conned him into wearing. He hadn’t even put on new socks in his effort to get back downstairs as soon as possible.
“Dick?” He called from the stair ledge “Dick?”
There was no reply, only the sound of the record player gently singing “Jingle bells”.
Bruce walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. He opened his mouth to speak before stopping at the sight of Dick eating a cookie and Alfred sweeping up the glass.
“I thought…” he started but closed his mouth.
Alfred looked up from behind the kitchen island, shaking his head “No Bruce, Master Richard is just fine. Just a mug slip. All cleaned up now.”
He looked at Dick, watching as the boy dunked a gingerbread man head first into a glass of milk, then bit off the wet part. He looked up at Bruce, making eye contact “They’re fresh, and good.”
Bruce calmed, sitting next to Dick at the table “You’re ok”
Dick raised an eyebrow “Of course I am” He handed Bruce the other cookie on his plate “Try one.”
He hesitated, not really wanting a cookie, before ultimately taking it to please the boy “It’s good.”
Alfred came around from the kitchen, holding a plate full of cookies, and two glasses of milk. He sat one in front of Bruce, and the other across from him. Then he sat in the seat to the right of Dick.
Bruce took the glass, grabbing a cookie from the large pile and dipped in one of the many appendages, before eating the milk soaked area.
For a minute, the table was silent, each having their mouth full. The music in the library played quietly in the background, just loud enough to hear, but not overwhelming.
Finally Alfred cleared his throat, taking a sip of milk before he put it down. He stared at Bruce’s outfit, clearly confused by it “I thought you didn’t like that outfit?”
Bruce stared at him. He sighed “I don’t”
Dick put his cup down, the metal making a ‘clink’ as it hit the table “I made him wear it” he said proudly, licking his top lip to get rid of his milk mustache.
Their butler nodded, “How did you do that?” he asked, grabbing another cookie.
“I grabbed it for him from his room”
Alfred nodded again “Oh”
“He looked through my room to find it” Bruce stared at Alfred, his eyes locked on to the older gentleman, hoping he would understand.
“Oh” Alfred paused, blinking a few times “well…” He joined Bruce in an awkward, knowing silence. Finally he plastered a smile on his face, turning to Dick, “Perhaps it’s time for your Christmas Eve present?”
Bruce’s ward jumped up from the table, running to the tree in the living room “Can I pick any of them?”
Alfred looked at Bruce, who nodded.
“Master Bruce says yes”
Dick scanned the presents. At first he moved toward the bigger ones, before pausing “What if I pick the wrong one?”
Bruce walked over, sitting on the couch “You won’t. There is no wrong one.”
Alfred interjected “He’s right. Besides, Santa hasn’t even come yet, so there will be plenty tomorrow, don’t worry.”
This seemed to sooth Dick, who quickly grabbed a plaid box, with a red bow. He looked up once more for encouragement before ripping open the paper to reveal a stuffed elephant. He paused, eyes wide as he focused on the stuffed animal.
Alfred moved forward, worried the boy might start crying. He and Bruce had spoken of how a reference to his past, the circus, might not be best. But at the last moment, Dick had run toward Bruce, wrapping his arms around his guardian.
“How did you know she had a scar on her cheek?” He asked, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into Bruce’s chest.
“I-” Bruce started, but stopped when he realized he had no clue what Dick was talking about “What?”
Dick pointed to a faint line of pen, clearly where someone had accidentally drawn with a sharpie “Zitka had a scar on her cheek.”
“Was Zitka an elephant from the circus?”
The boy nodded “She was my best friend.”
Bruce patted his back, not knowing what to do “Oh.”
Alfred, who had been silent up until that point, sensed Bruce’s hesitation, looked at his watch, and dramatically stood up. This garnered attention from both Dick and Bruce alike. “It’s getting late Master Richard. I’ll put out the cookies.” He walked over, gently detaching the boy from Bruce, and leading him towards the stairs “Can’t have you awake when Santa comes to visit, can we?”
Dick, still holding the stuffed animal sighed, quickly turning into yawn “I’m not…” he stopped, blinking a few times “I’m not tired”
Alfred shook his head, chuckling “That yawn says otherwise”. He turned to Bruce, pointing to the ceiling “You’re gonna have to tuck him in.”
Bruce nodded in understanding, moving to his ward, and gently guiding him up the stairs. When Dick didn’t move, too busy blinking away his sleepiness, Bruce picked him up.
Alfred called out to Bruce on the stairs “Good night. Both of you.” Before returning to the kitchen.
Bruce carried Dick up the stairs and to his room, gently laying the boy on his bed. Dick opened his mouth, mumbling something incoherent. Bruce placed the elephant in Dicks arms, and took the edge of the comforter, tucking it under the mattress. He did the same to the other side. He stared at his boy, watching how he fought sleep. He saw the cowlick curl, sitting perfectly dead center in the middle of his forehead. He leaned down, gently kissing the boy’s temple. Bruce smiled, not forced like he’d done for the new major, but a genuine smile. “Good night, bud”. With that he turned off the light, leaving the room, and closing the door behind him.