#batfamchristmasstocking

[evergreena]

Test Drive

Gift fic (+art!) for @lazuliquetzal​ for the Batfam Christmas Stocking! Hope you enjoy it! 

Summary: Damian has his eye set on the newest Batmobile, but it seems nobody will let him drive it.

AO3 Link

Damian kicked the tire of the latest Batmobile, wishing that his father would stop staring at the case files in front of him for even just a minute. He eyed the newly-finished vehicle beside him. The memory of the thrill he got every time he rode in one of the other souped-up cars bubbled up for a moment, driving him to lose all control over his mouth for an instant. "I'm going to take it for a test drive," he said loudly. He quickly shut his mouth again. What had he just said that for? Batman would never go for that. But maybe Bruce might be convinced to bend the rules a little... just this once.

"No, you're not," came the typical Batman response.

He knew he should back off and pretend this conversation never happened. But now that he was waist-deep in this mess, he might as well push onwards. Besides, he couldn't show his father that he was willing to be pushed around - he was a man now. "I'm almost old enough for a driver's permit, anyway."

At that, his father did set down his files and turn around. "You're barely thirteen, Damian."

"In the grand scheme of things, what's two years?" He shuffled a bit in place. It was worth a try.

"I said no."

Damian huffed. "I know how."

"And that doesn't change the law."

The sleek lines of the hood and bold intake grills on the sides of the car practically sang his name. The design was ridiculous and brilliant at the same time. He pressed the hidden button on the side and it scanned his finger. With a beep, the lock clicked, and the top of the car slid forward to reveal the forbidden fruit of the driver's seat. He'd sat there a handful of times as they'd worked on it together, and it had only whetted his appetite for more. He looked up. "You let me drive that time you got shot."

"That was an emergency, and has nothing to do with today. And furthermore, that car was on autopilot the entire way back to the Cave."

Yes, Damian knew that. That's why he still felt compelled to drive this for himself. Without autopilot this time. But Bruce would not be swayed tonight, it seemed. Time for plan B. "Then you drive. Let's take it on patrol. I promise I won't ask to drive the whole time. I'll just sit quietly.  You've been looking at those files too long. It's been a week since we patrolled together. Let's try her out."

"It has been three nights. And I am not going out on patrol until I've dealt with these files. Dick is going to patrol Gotham in my stead tonight."

Damian sighed and closed the shiny top of the new Batmobile. "Fiiine." He resisted the urge to grin like the Cheshire Cat.

If Grayson was patrolling tonight, then just maybe he could wheedle a joyride out of him instead.

*************************

He found Grayson in the gym, warming up on the parallel bars for patrol later. He watched his brother swing around in perfect gymnast form, point his toes, then stand on his hands on the bars, twist around and flip back and forth.

At last, he cleared his throat. "Grayson."

Dick did an especially showy move to turn around and face him. "Yeah?"

"Could you get the new Batmobile key from Father?"

"And why might I do that, Damester?"

"No reason."

"Ha, nice try." Dick balanced on one arm and pointed in Damian's general direction with the other. "I know Bruce said you can't drive it, so what use would the key be to you?"

Damian sighed, knowing that any attempt to lie to Dick would fail. He crossed his arms and said anyway, "I want... to hold it."

Dick laughed. He spun around to face the opposite wall. "No can do, little man. Try again when you're fifteen and have your permit. I'd be happy to let you drive it then, as long as Bruce agrees. It is his car, after all."

"Then can we at least go out for a drive together? Father would let you drive it, wouldn't he?"

"Wish I could, but I've got a lot of work to do tonight for Bruce." Dick swung his legs, then executed a perfect somersault dismount, landing sideways on the mat.

"Father said you're patrolling tonight. Can't I ride along?"

"Oh, no, I'm not taking the Batmobile. Sorry, Damian!" Dick grabbed a towel and wiped his face. "You're welcome to join me on my bike, if you like. But no car tonight."

Damian groaned his disappointment before he could catch himself. "Fine. I'll ask someone else."

Dick waved as he headed for the door. "Good luck!"

*************************

He found Tim scrutinizing security footage at the Batcomputer. He was completely absorbed in whatever he was watching, his full coffee mug forgotten in his left hand as he took notes with his right.

Damian's footsteps didn't make a sound as he creeped right up behind the black leather chair. "Want to go for a drive?" he blurted out.

Tim jumped, spilling a few drops of coffee on his lap. "Geez, don't sneak up on me like that!"

Damian didn't apologize. It was Drake's job to stay alert, after all. "If you're that absorbed in the screen, maybe you need a break. Let's go take the new Batmobile for a spin."

Tim gave him a flat look. "I hate driving."

"Ah." He had certainly not forgotten that. "Then I could do it while you supervise."

"Nope. I know this routine, and I'm not going to get on Batman's bad side just because you want to joyride."

Damian couldn't help the little pout that found its way to his lips. "You're the worst."

"No, I'm right." Tim turned his attention back to the screens. "Now get lost, Dames, I've got work to do."

"As everyone else does tonight."

"Except you, it seems."

Damian stuck out his tongue at Tim's back.

*************************

Damian sat on the steps above the staging area where the new, sleek Batmobile was parked. He stared at it glumly, wondering if it was worth the awful grounding he'd get if he snuck out with it anyway. It just looked so cool. Any kid in their right mind would itch to drive it. He was a bit surprised the others didn't agree. Then again, they'd probably had plenty of opportunities to drive other Batmobiles over the years. Bruce probably let them drive when they were underage. It wasn't fair!

It was still several hours before his normal patrol time, but if Batman wasn't going out, the chances were high that he'd be stuck here at home anyway. He could maybe take up Dick's offer to ride along with him, but... a stubborn part of him insisted that it wasn't enough.

"I only wanted to try it out," he mumbled.

Someone in a black cape brushed past his shoulder, and for a split second he thought Batman had changed his mind about patrolling tonight. His heart leapt in sudden hope. But no, it was just Cain.

"I didn't know you were planning to patrol tonight," he said indifferently. "You want any help?"

She stopped and turned to face him. "You want to drive, even though Batman said no."

He looked up at her face in surprise. Her cowl was off, revealing her dark, unreadable eyes. "I'm just tired of sitting around doing nothing. I want to go fast."

Cass grinned. "Good." Then she walked toward the new Batmobile. The top slid open for her, and she hopped into the driver's seat. She looked over to where he sat, then held up her gloved hand.

On the tip of her pointer finger dangled the key.

Damian's jaw dropped.  "You took- are you offering--"

She just waved the key back and forth. Then she lowered her voice conspiratorially.  "I might be persuaded to let you take it a minute or two on the straightaways before we get to the city proper. So what are you waiting for?"

[renecdote]

Catch Me

Another @batfam-christmas-stocking​ fic. For @haunt-the-stars​ and the prompt “the batkids all have their own triggers”. 

Summary: He hates these nights. When he’s stretched thin from chasing leads on three cases, when he’s trying to wrap things up as quickly as possible because he’s hyper conscious of what date is approaching, when a severe thunderstorm has driven him off the streets and back to the Manor.

There’s a sound like a gunshot. No, not like, it is. Loud enough to make Dick flinch. He spins around wildly, searching shadows, but he doesn’t understand - there hadn’t been, there isn’t, a shooter. There’s only him and Damian and- and- 

There’s a weight in his hand. One that is sickeningly familiar. He flexes his fingers and there’s a clattering. Metal on concrete.

Gun on rooftop.

--  

For the longest time, it’s that sound. The one that changed his life. The sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground after a fifty-foot fall. Catastrophically loud in the sudden, ringing silence of the tent. It’s the backing track to every nightmare for the first few years, jolting him awake with his heart in his throat and the smell of sawdust in the air.

He guesses that old adage about time healing wounds is true though, because it gets better after a while. Not perfect. Not good. But better. Enough that it wasn’t every time, just most of the time, and now some of the time. That doesn’t mean it goes away. It just… quiets.

And a new sound steps seamlessly in to take its place.

So these days, even though it’s not that sound, it’s the other one. The one that makes his hands shake and his heart race and his stomach turn. The gunshot. The. Not just any; the one that echoed in his ears for days. The one that is his fault. The one that killed Blockbuster.

--

He can’t look down. Can’t make himself attach an image to the sounds he knows so well. Sounds he hears on the streets every night. Sounds like-

A shout. Pained. Panicked. Dick turns back toward it, lunging forward on reflex. Because Damian is falling. Over the edge of the building and down down down down d o w n...

--

Nights like this, it all seems like too much. He hates these nights. When he’s stretched thin from chasing leads on three cases, when he’s trying to wrap things up as quickly as possible because he’s hyper conscious of what date is approaching, when a severe thunderstorm has driven him off the streets and back to the Manor. Unable to throw himself off a rooftop and disguise the anxiety, the crawling fear, with adrenaline.

The fact that almost everyone else in the family is here as well, called back to home base to wait out the storm, should make him happy. They’re all so rarely in the same place anymore, this should be an opportunity he can’t resist. Herd them all into the den, put on a movie, revel in the feeling of having Damian curled against one side and Tim on the other. Of Cass and Steph painting each other’s nails on the floor in front of him. Of Bruce trying not to doze off in an armchair and Alfred passing around hot drinks.

Instead, he’s hiding out in a dark parlour. Alone.

--

It’s like he’s watching the scene through strobe lights, everything moving too fast and too slow at once. One of Damian’s arms flails, grasping for something, anything, to stop his fall. Dick’s fingers brush against his fluttering cape. So close, so close, he can almost-

His hand closes on air.

Damian’s shocked, terrified, betrayed expression cuts him to the core.

--

It’s not the storm which is getting to him. Not really. It’s… everything. The thoughts, the memories, the close calls. Pressing down on him, closing in, squeezing until he’s curled in the corner gasping for air.

The anniversary of his parents’ deaths is approaching. It kind of snuck up on him this year and the guilt of almost forgetting is mingling with the thousand other things that seem to have been going wrong lately. So it’s not the storm. But the storm sure as hell doesn’t help.

When the thunder crashes outside the window, Dick jumps.

--

“No!” Dick screams. He throws himself toward the edge, reaching for a grappling gun that isn’t there, and hits the concrete wall that hadn’t been there a second ago. He looks down desperately - maybe there was a fire escape, maybe someone else made it in time, maybe Damian-

No.

No no no no nonononono.

It’s not Damian. Red and green is replaced by black and grey. Batman.

“Bruce,” Dick gasps. Sobs. Not Bruce, please, no, not another parent, no, I can’t lose him too. Please. No.

--

“Dick?”

Dick spins around, finds Jason watching him from the doorway. His heart beats widely in his chest. He takes a breath to steady it, holds the air in his lungs until it starts to burn.

“Jay,” he says, and his voice doesn’t tremble. “I thought you were still in the city.”

Jason shrugs. He shifts his weight like he’s going to step into the room, then shrinks back when there’s another crack of thunder and lightning flashes through the window. “Heating in my apartment isn’t working,” he says and Dick knows immediately that it’s - maybe not a lie, but an excuse. His brother has a dozen apartments; the heating in all of them can’t be broken. He’s here because…

The wind howls, smacking a branch against the window, and Jason and Dick both startle at the sound. They share uneasy smiles. Everyone is a bit more jumpy than usual tonight.

Jason has his own reasons for hating storms. Dick doesn’t know exactly what they are, but Jason’s dropped enough hints that he can guess. Things like glowing green water and muddy soil. The smell of damp asphalt and the static in the air. Probably some of the things that haunt Dick’s own nightmares as well. With their lifestyle, there’s bound to be overlap. He knows Tim at least has issues with falling as well. Damian wakes screaming with his father’s name on his lips. Cass sometimes catches sight of her reflection and flinches. Dick doesn’t like to think about what that means.

“You were looking for me?” he asks, forcing himself to stay in the moment. To not get sucked into the swirling mass of anxious thoughts that have been creeping up his spine all day.

Jason’s eyes flicker toward a shadow then back to him. “The brat was asking for you,” he says, glancing over his shoulder like he wants to be anywhere but the dark room Dick has found for himself. “We’re watching a movie. Nemo, I think.”

“Okay,” Dick says, dragging up a smile to throw over his shoulder as he turns back to the window. Nemo. Cartoon, funny, safe. “I’ll be there in just a moment.”

Jason hesitates for a long, agonising moment, but he doesn’t push it. Dick doesn’t have to say anything for his brother to get it. He sinks into an armchair as soon as Jason is gone, wraps trembling arms around his knees and tries to get his mind to shut up long enough to stop himself from spiralling.

---

He turns around, away from the sight of his adoptive father falling. He can’t bear to watch it. Not again.

But what he comes face-to-face with is so much worse. The roof isn’t the roof anymore, it’s the ground. A flat, dirty street. It could be anywhere in any city, but he knows it’s Gotham. Only Gotham could be this cruel.

Dick falls to his knees among a sea bodies. Bruce and Damian and Tim and Jason and Cass and Babs and Wally and Kory and- Everyone. Too many to count. Too many to name. All of them broken and bloody, mangled from a fifty foot fall.

“No,” he moans, screwing his eyes shut. He gasps for air, finds he suddenly can’t breathe between sobs. “No, no, not all of them. Not any of them. Please.”

Please.

No.

--

He shoots awake with a gasp. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Hadn’t wanted to fall asleep. But he had, still in the parlour, still in that chair. He looks around wildly, finds green eyes peering at him through the dark. And some of the panic in Dick’s chest whooshes out in a relieved sob.

Damian doesn’t say anything. He just stays crouched on the floor with his hand on Dick’s knee, still looking up at him with… It’s not sympathy. It’s something more haunted. Understanding. He doesn’t ask Dick what the dream was about, doesn’t tell him that talking about it will help. He just lets Dick pull him into a crushing hug, wraps skinny arms around his neck and holds on just as tightly. They all get nightmares. They all know what it’s like.  Most of the time Dick hates that, that his little brothers know even a tiny bit of the pain he’s felt. But right now he’s just glad for the comfort.

[huilian]

Murder in The Kitchen

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth

Summary:  The crashes came from the kitchen, which already resembled a war zone. Silverware, pieces of glass, a whisker, and even a baking pan was scattered on the floor. And in the middle of it, were Tim and Damian.

A/N: A @batfam-christmas-stocking gift for @tantalum-cobalt. I know it’s not angst, but I hope you like it!

Dick didn't think anything about it when he heard the first crash. Things crashed fairly frequently in the Manor, it was not that big of a deal. Then he heard the second crash. And then the third.  By the fourth crash, Dick was starting to get anxious about what was happening. It didn't help that Alfred was out doing errands in the city. Alfred could always diffuse a situation before it got too much. Even with Jason. Maybe especially with Jason.  Bruce was downstairs, working on a case. It would literally take a city wide emergency to get him out of the Cave in that mode. So, it fell into Dick to be the adult. (He hated being the adult. It sucks.) With a deep sigh, Dick stood up from his comfortable spot on his bed and started his search for the source of the crashes.  He swept the bedrooms first, seeing as it was closest from his room. When he found nothing, he started searching the rest of the Manor. While he was searching, he heard another crash. And another. And another. The crashes were getting closer to each other, and that made Dick even more anxious. He was not worried about the Manor being robbed, or even a kidnapper. Everybody inside the Manor was highly trained and could win any potential fight. What's more, the Manor security system was extremely secure. Nobody could get in. No, Dick was more worried about the residents inside the Manor fighting each other.  He was correct. The crashes came from the kitchen, which already resembled a war zone. Silverware, pieces of glass, a whisker, and even a baking pan was scattered on the floor. And in the middle of it, were Tim and Damian.  Dick's first thought was that the two of them were fighting again. The two of them hadn't tried to kill each other for a while now, but they still had their disagreements. More often than not, those disagreements turned into fights.  “You have five seconds to explain, or I'm calling Alfred,” Dick threatened. It was Alfred's kitchen they were wrecking. And normally, a single look from Alfred was all that was needed for the two of them to cease the fighting and apologize, although half-heartedly, to each other.  “Please don't call Alfred," Tim said.

Damian scowled at Dick, but said nothing.  “Well, then someone explain to me what is going on here.” Tim and Damian glanced at each other, then at Dick. They didn't seem inclined to tell Dick what was going on. That just won't do.  “Hey! Tell me what's going on, or I'm really going to call Alfred.” Dick pulled his phone from this pocket to emphasize the point.  “We were trying to bake Alfred a cake," Tim said quickly.  “A cake? And why do the kitchen looked like someone committed murder in it?” “Because Drake is an imbecile who cannot bake.” “Like you can.” “Enough!” Dick said. The two of them stopped their bickering long enough to look at him. “So this is all because you tried to bake a cake for Alfred? Why do you want to bake him a cake anyway?” Both Tim and Damian looked lost at that question. They turned to each other seemingly seeking answers from the other one.  “I….,” Tim began, “we thought that we could do something nice for him, for a change.” He shrugged his shoulders then hunched in on himself. “He was always looking out for us. It's time we do it for him.” “You wanted to do that. You simply roped me in,” Damian said.  “Shut up, Damian," Tim said. “Besides, it's Christmas.” He looked up at Dick. “What better time to do it?” Dick was stunned. Instead of fighting, Tim and Damian has worked together to give some joy to Alfred. His baby brothers really were growing up.  “Awwww!” Dick smiled. “That's so nice, Tim. You too, Damian. Can I join in?” “Tt. You can't be worse than Drake, Grayson.” Tim simply shrugged and opened his hands.  “Well, where were you in the recipe before I barged in?” Tim bit his lips. “Um…. We haven't gotten to the recipe yet. We were just pulling out the tools and ingredients.” “Okay,” Dick said carefully. “What recipe are you following?” Tim visibly winced. “We…, we actually haven't had a recipe yet.” Dick sighed. Of course they couldn't make this easy for him. “Okay, I'm so not qualified for this." He paused, then. “I'm going to call Jason.” *** “You were doing what?!?” Jason shouted. “Look, I know you don't want to be here, but this is for Alfred. I can't bake, and by the looks of it, they can't either,” Dick said.  “Hey!” Both Tim and Damian exclaimed at the same time.  “You can't, okay? The kitchen is proof.” Dick gestured around the kitchen to further prove his point. “We don't want to ruin this. So, do you want to help us, or let poor Alfie eat a disaster of a cake?" Jason glared daggers at Dick, and then some to Tim and Damian. Then he sighed, and said, "All right. For Alfred. Can't let him eat your pathetic attempt at baking.” Dick cheered on the inside. Out of all of them, Jason was by far the best cook. And baker.  “Do exactly as I say," Jason growled, "or you're out." *** All things considered, Dick would say that the baking went well. They got the cake done, and the Manor was still standing. So, that's a plus.  What's not a plus was the state of the kitchen. Flour was everywhere, a remnant from the war they had waged while making the batter. Dick was pretty sure he had flour all over his face and hair. There were also silverwares and baking trays and things Dick couldn't even identify laying on the floor. And icing. God, the icing were everywhere.  Even worse, Alfred had come home before they had the chance to clean up the kitchen. Now, they were under the scrutiny of Alfred's disappointed look and damn if that didn't make Dick feel guilty.  The four of them huddled together, all feeling ashamed of themselves. Jason broke first.  “I'm, no, we're sorry for the kitchen, Alf.” Alfred shook his head, giving of the sense of disappointment with just a simple gesture. “May I ask what you were doing, young masters?” “We were trying to bake a cake,” Tim said. “And destroy the Manor?” Alfred asked. “That wasn't part of the plan," Dick said. “We managed to get the cake done, though. Do you want to try it, Alfred?” Alfred watched each and every single one of them grow up. He would knew the offer as what it was. He would. Otherwise, they thrashed the Manor's kitchen for nothing. Dick cringed just thinking about it.  Then, slowly, Alfred smiled. “I would be delighted to. Whose idea was this?” “Mine!” Damian was quick to respond.  “No, you brat. I asked you whether you want to do this or not! It was my idea!" Tim shot back.  “Neither one of you would manage to bake this cake if it weren't for me, so I'm the one who should take credit for it!” Jason said.  “Boys!” Dick shouted. Sometimes wrangling his little brothers were akin to getting the villains of Gotham in line. “Can you let Alfred eat in peace?” Alfred chuckled. “I would like that very much, Master Dick.” He took the cake from the top of the counter, sliced it neatly, and placed it on a clean plate he seemed to have acquired from nowhere. “You would clean up the kitchen, I presume?” The four of them sighed as one. “Yes, Alfred.” “Delightful. Of course, after the kitchen is clean, all of you would be welcome to join me.” He smiled again, the prim and proper butler mask cracking just a little. “Thank you.”

[kuppakoopa]

the worst sweaters anyone could’ve imagined

(stocking stuffer for @ghostjasontodd and their prompt  batfam + ugly Christmas sweaters (very good prompt) for the @batfam-christmas-stocking exchange)

[rannajii]

Snowfall

for @connanro-chan as part of gen batfam christmas stocking. many thanks to @elaienar for beta’ing!

Words: 1304

Summary: “Thought you could use a hand,” Robin said, and grinned.

It was at that moment that specks of snow began falling from the sky.

Or: How Tim Drake first met Gotham’s vigilantes.

AO3

That night was like any other night in Gotham: insults thrown from one individual to another, shouts as someone realized his wallet was stolen, a plea for mercy at the hands of a bloodthirsty criminal, shadows in the dim lamplight as Batman and Robin leaped from building to building. And Tim Drake was waiting on a rooftop to snap a picture of them.

Tim’s parents were out of town again, and Mrs. Mac had already fulfilled her duty and left. The older Drakes hadn’t promised their son to come back before Christmas, but still he had waited several cold and dark hours in the empty house, before outfitting himself to navigate the icy streets and snow covered rooftops. Last of all he’d taken his camera from its usual place in his drawer, settling the worn strap around his neck.

He had worked his way around the crowd of late shoppers and workers as he traced the path to a roof where he might glimpse Batman and Robin on their nightly jaunt, and snap a few blurred pictures of them before they vanish into the darkness.

It had been a couple hours since he got there, and he hadn’t seen them yet. Tim shifted quietly and listened for the rustling of capes, or the shuffling of feet.

He heard nothing other than the typical things: people laughing down in the streets, others griping, sirens blaring not too far away, but nothing that could possibly be Batman and Robin. They were late, or were off somewhere else.

Tim sighed and looked into the alley below him, the last place you would expect to see two superheroes whose usual roost was the roofs. Of course they weren’t there. Instead, in the dim light of the street lamps two stories down, he saw two men, one tall and bulky and the other short. Both were carrying guns at their sides, off to rob a shop nearby or something.

The short one lagged behind. He stopped directly below the place where Tim was leaning over the edge of the roof, camera dangling.

“I’m not so sure about this. For all we know, Batman could be on his way right now.”

The tall one stopped and turned back.“We’ve been through this,” he said. “We’ll be in and out before you know it. No witnesses–no complications. Besides, I promised my little girl a doll, and we’re being paid good money for this job.”

That didn’t sound good. Tim stepped back from the edge. The camera strap rubbed against the rough stone as he pulled away. The fabric ripped, and the strap slid off his neck. Tim’s eyes widened, and he lunged forward to catch it, but his hands closed on empty air. He was left hanging over the edge of the roof helplessly as his camera fell.

Oh. Oh, no.

The camera landed on the short thug’s head with a resounding crack.

The man howled, his hands clutching his hair. He swiveled around two or three times, which Tim might have laughed at had he not realised that the man was looking for him. Then he screeched, “Who did that?” at the top of his lungs.

The tall man bent down and plucked the broken camera out of the snow where it had fallen, then looked up.

Tim’s eyes met his. The tall man opened his mouth and shouted “There!”

Tim bolted down the fire escape and into the street. When he hit the ground he saw them rounding the corner, and he took off running.

The streets that were full when he had first come were empty. There was no crowd to hide in.

“Hey! Hey you, kid! Wait!”

Somehow Tim didn’t feel inclined to wait. His instincts proved correct when a gun went off behind him and a bullet whizzed by close enough for him to feel it passing in the air.

There was another gunshot. He dodged around a corner into an alley and saw a dead end.

Crap. Now I’m definitely screwed.

He looked around hastily and ran toward the nearest hiding place: a dumpster. Typical.

He threw himself into the smelly dumpster, shut the lid, and breathed as quietly as he could manage. His lungs burned for air, and his stomach threatened to throw up its contents due to the stench.

Over the loud pounding of his heart and blood rushing in his ears, he heard quick footsteps approach, followed by panting, and a curse.

Tim sucked in a deep breath and placed his hands over his mouth, both to quiet his breathing, and keep the stench away.

“Where’d he go?” one said between heavy breaths.

“No idea,” said the other, just as heavily.

Tim waited for a moment, and then another, listening for any sign of the men through the pounding in his head. He let out his breath quietly and inhaled the most pleasant smell of days old garbage. He coughed. It wasn’t a very loud cough.

Unfortunately it was loud enough for the two men outside to hear it. The lid lifted off dumpster, hinges squeaking, and hands grabbed Tim by the shoulders, pulling him out of it.

Tim kicked and screamed, flailing his weak arms, desperately trying to escape the firm hold.

“Shut up,” the tall man said, and when Tim didn’t, he covered his mouth and nose with his hand, stifling his screams.

Tim stopped screaming, and tried to suck in a breath, but found he couldn’t. Panic filled him, and he clawed at the hand. The man ignored it.

“That’s better,” the short one said. “Boss said no witnesses.”

“He’s just a kid,” said the man holding Tim.

“No witnesses,” he repeated, and began to raise his gun.

Tim opened his mouth and bit down hard on the hand over his mouth.

The man holding him yelped and dropped him. Tim hit the ground running, and dodged around the shorter man.

He’d only gone a few steps when he slipped on ice and fell face first into muddy slush. He tried to get up and slipped again, falling onto his side.

The short man pointed his gun.

The thing that Gotham’s criminals feared came down upon him. His body crashed to the ground. A dark figure rose from where he lay.

Before Tim knew what was happening, both men were tied up. Robin stood with his hand extended toward him. Batman stood tall a little farther off in the shadows of the alley.

“Thought you could use a hand,” Robin said, and grinned.

It was at that moment that specks of snow began falling from the sky, the snowflakes landing on Robin’s red hair. Light illuminated his face, and glinted off Batman’s armor.

Tim’s hands itched to a snap a picture, but his camera lay broken somewhere else.

Robin reached down and grabbed Tim’s hand and pulled him onto his feet.

“Oh,” he said numbly. This was the closest he’d ever been to his heroes, and he couldn’t even take a picture. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Don’t go out on your own after dark,” Batman said from the shadows. Then they were gone, so suddenly that Tim wasn’t entirely sure if what had happened was real.

He slowly walked out of the alley, heading back the way he had come, and to the place were his camera was lying in the muddy snow. He picked it up and examined it. There was a large crack in the lens. A few pieces of the shattered case remained on ground where he had taken it.

He sighed. How he was going to explain this to his parents he didn’t know. Maybe he’d be able to get it fixed before they got back.

By now, the snow was falling steadily. He shoved the broken pieces of camera into his pocket, and hurried home.

[ghostjasontodd]

Prompt fill for @bisexualkori for the @batfam-christmas-stocking exchange

Based on something my brother has said multiple times about my baby photos.

[batfam-christmas-stocking]

Stocking Fills Master Post

Thank you so much to everyone who participated in the Gen Batfam Christmas Stocking event! It was a lot of fun to run and everyone’s works are fantastic. The AO3 collection can be found here, but I have also sorted all fills by recipient below the cut. 

batfem

Roll Call by @tantalum-cobalt for the prompt “late night”

bisexualkori 

Art fill by @ghostjasontodd for the prompt “you were so adorable back then”

Hot Chocolate and Cookies by @huilian for the prompt “hot chocolate”

What are we watching? by @writtenskyes for the prompt “you were so adorable back then”

chibinightowl

Cassandra Cain-Wayne and her batty christmas tree by @marudny-robot for the prompt “Cass: “This is my first Christmas tree.””

connanro-chan

Home for the Holidays by @chibinightowl for the prompt “vigilantism with a light side of burglary”

Snowfall by @rannajii for the prompt “snowfall”

discowlng

A winter tale by @batfem for the prompt “high school AU”

ghostjasontodd

I heard... by @myheartbelongstowallywest for the prompt “kids at school talking about the bats, Wayne kid of your choice bluffs their way through the conversation”

Orphans by @myheartbelongstowallywest for the prompt

the worst sweaters anyone could’ve imagined by @kuppatan for the prompt “batfam + ugly Christmas sweaters”

Pearl by @marudny-robot for the prompt “through some twist of fate bruce gets to know what his parents would think of who he’s become (+ his kids?)”

haunt-the-stars

Catch Me by @tantalum-cobalt for the prompt “the batkids all have their own triggers”

huilian

Pick Me Right Up by @discowlng for the prompt “I need a hug”

kindaangelic

a new tradition by @ghostjasontodd for the prompt “Damian Wayne hates Santa Claus”

Hung Where You Can See by @haunt-the-stars for the prompt “oh, look, mistletoe”

kuppatan

and now to the abyss I pass by @connanro-chan for the prompt “hanging on”

marudny-robot

bath & body works by @sqoiler

Acting Our Age by @chibinightowl for the prompt “when was the last time we acted our age?”

A Photo Lasts Longer by @kindaangelic for the prompt “Characters sharing a hobby/doing something only together as their version of ‘bonding’”

myheartbelongstowallywest

Snuggled Up Together (Like Two Birds of a Feather Would Be) by @haunt-the-stars for the prompt “holiday times with the batfam”

rannajii

Die Hard is the Best Christmas Movie by @myheartbelongstowallywest for the prompt “movie night”

hi my name is tim drake and welcome to jackass by @kuppatan for the prompt “injury”

who’s gonna catch when I fall by @connanro-chan for the prompt “batkids bonding over things that happened to them as robin/batgirl”

fortnightly movie night by @bisexualkori for the prompt “movie night”

sqoiler

(Dance) Lessons by @marudny-robot for the prompt “holiday wayne gala and dancing”

tamraneankori

Sick Day by @myheartbelongstowallywest for the prompt “sick day”

the road to being a family by @bisexualkori for the prompt “road trip”

Anything But Monopoly by @thelittleredheadedmusician for the prompt “game night”

tantalum-cobalt

Murder in the Kitchen by @huilian for the prompt “you have five seconds to explain or I’m calling Alfred”

Annual Wayne Enterprises Take Your Kid To Work Day by @thelittleredheadedmusician for the prompt “take your kid to work day at WE”

he’s my brother by @bisexualkori for the prompt “Damian is sick and Tim is the only one around to look after him”

thelittleredheadedmusician

As the Season Rolls Around by @discowlng for the prompt “general out of costume shenanigans”

writtenskyes

Big Brother Jason by @marudny-robot for the prompt “Batgirls and Batboys bonding”

[myheartbelongstowallywest]

I Heard...

For @ghostjasontodd for @batfam-christmas-stocking! The prompt was “kids at school talking about the bats, Wayne kid of your choice bluffs their way through the conversation.”

Word Count: 756

Tim kept his head down as he headed to the cafeteria. Bruce had kept them out late last night and he’d struggled to keep his eyes open in his last class. He was hoping lunch would be a bit of a reprieve.

“Hey, Tim!” Andrew waved, gesturing him over to their usual table. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he laughed.

“Oh, leave him be,” Jessica admonished. “How were your classes this morning?” She asked turning to Tim. He liked Jessica. She’d been the first one to befriend him at Gotham Academy, and she never asked him about Bruce.

“They were fine, the parts I was awake for at least.” Andrew guffawed. Jessica just smiled.

“Here,” she pushed a thermos over to him. “It’s cold by now, but it’s something.” Tim grinned.

“Thanks!” He barely even registered the rest of the group sitting down, completely focused on the ice-cold coffee. When he looked up, every seat was filled and they were discussing who was taking who to the school dance this Friday. Tim wasn’t planning on going.

“Okay,” Andrew cut in. “I know this is interesting and all, but has anyone heard about the Bat lately?” Tim stifled the urge to groan, not this again. “Because I heard he took Riddler down with one hit the other day.”

“Oh yeah?” Quipped Tom from next to him. “I heard Ivy won’t even fight him anymore, just hands herself over!”

“And we all know why Tom knows about Ivy. Don’t we?” Lily smirked. Tom went bright red, sputtering. “Besides, I heard Catwoman’s been showing up near him more and more.” Tim nearly choked on his lunch. They all turned to look at him.

“Well what have you heard, Tim?” Andrew asked.

“I heard,” Tim racked his brain. “That he and Bane are working together.” Lily gasped.

“Never!” Tom said.

“All that heroism could go to one’s head,” Jessica shrugged.

“Speaking on the head behind the mask, any new guesses as to the identity of our caped crusader?” Andrew insisted on asking this question weekly. Tim hated it. Lily raised her hand, and Andrew pointed to her.

“I think it’s the mayor.” She held her hands up against their shouts of dissent. “Okay, but think about it!” She narrowed her eyes, pointing at each of them in turn. “Make’s sense, doesn’t it?” “Okay, a valid guess!” Andrew announced. “Any others?” Tim was trying to busy himself with his lunch and didn’t notice when Tom raised his hand.

“Tom, what say you?” Tim shook his head, Andrew was so ridiculous.

“I think he’s Commissioner Gordon.” Even Tim started laughing. Andrew buried his face in his hands.

“That’s literally impossible, Tom. They’re seen together all the time,” Lily commented.

“But, I thought, maybe it’s Martian--” Tim held up a hand to stop him.

“No. Just no,” he shook his head.

“Tim, any ideas?” Andrew trained his gaze on him. Well, shit.

“I think it might be Bruce,” he said, nonchalant. Jessica turned wide eyes on him, while Andrew started laughing.

“No fucking way,” Tom said. “Like, if my guess was ridiculous that’s just batshit crazy.” Lily was shaking her head.

“I just don’t see it,” she muttered.

“It’s the butt,” Tim shrugged.

“I mean, I guess,” Andrew replied. “Anyways, moving on. Anyone else?” He stared pointedly at Jessica. She shook her head.

“Alright, buckle up kids. Batman is most definitely,” Andrew mimed a drumroll. “The Headmaster.”

“Huh,” Lily looked thoughtful. Tom opened his mouth to speak, but Andrew shushed him.

“Just think about it, he’s the perfect fit.” Tom furrowed his brow and gave no further protest. Andrew looked to Tim and Jessica, both of whom were doubled over in laughter. “Oh come on guys, that’s the best guess anyone’s come up with.” Tim sat up, wiping imaginary tears.

“Sure, Andrew,” He shrugged. “It makes sense.”

“Ha!” Andrew pumped a fist in the air in triumph. “I’m right, and you all know it.” Tim just shook his head and turned back to his lunch.

Hours later, he ran into Bruce leaving the manor just as he got home. Bruce reached over and ruffled his hair.

“Anything interesting at school today, kiddo?” Tim bit back a laugh. 
“No, nothing interesting,” he smiled. Bruce raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

“Alright, well Alfred has dinner ready in the kitchen if you’re hungry. I should be back in a few hours.” Tim nodded, waved goodbye, and headed for the food.

He couldn’t wait to tell Dick about lunch.

[chibinightowl]

Home for the Holidays

For the Batfam Christmas Stocking 2017:

For @connanro-chan​

Prompt: vigilantism with a light side of burglary (to be fair, this didn’t turn out the way I wanted, but I think it worked out in the end!)

Cassandra crouches on the edge of a building in the Bowery, her cape wrapped tight around her in the chill winter air. Fresh snow had fallen during the day leaving the landscape all pretty and white under the clear skies. But it’s also bitterly cold and she wishes she still wore her original Batgirl suit as at least that had a full-face mask, unlike her Black Bat uniform. But she’s here with a purpose and she will not be deviated from it, not on Christmas Eve.

Earlier this week, Cass learned what Bruce wants most for Christmas and she’s bound and determined to make it happen. But bringing a wayward bird home is no easy task, especially one who will fight tooth and nail to avoid it. She’s willing to try, especially since it will do both of them good in terms of patching their relationship. It’s as plain as day to her that Bruce misses Jason and that Jason wants to come home, but doesn’t know how.

She knows that not everyone sees things the way she does, but even Stephanie has picked up on it. Her best friend says they’re being stupid boys, which is true, but there’s more to it than that. Years and years of harsh words and even harsher actions have brought the two men to where they are now. It’ll take more than just an apology from either of them to start fixing things.

It’ll take action. And that’s something Cass knows she can help with because to her, actions speak louder than words.

Tim has mentioned before that Jason has an uncanny ability of knowing when someone Batty is in his territory. She hopes she counts, even though they’ve rarely crossed paths on the streets before. Jason is not someone she needs to be wary of, at least physically. Tim has also commented on how quick their brother is with his mouth, which is still something she struggles with. Words are hard for her while Jason wields them like a weapon.

She waits with an inborn stillness that’s been drilled into her since childhood. It’s not too long before she senses movement behind her. There’s no sound, but Cass knows she is not alone.

As the person gets closer, there’s a purposeful crunch of gravel and snow under a heavy boot. It takes skill to move silently in conditions like this, skill Cassandra appreciates. She doesn’t move, but she doesn’t have to. Jason steps up beside her, dressed in full Red Hood gear, including his helmet. She glances over and suppresses a smirk at the slightly poufy look to his clothes. Just like with her uniform, there’s a layer of winter thermals beneath the armor, not that it’s doing much good in this weather.

Jason eyes her carefully. He’s not sure what she’s here for and it makes him…not nervous, but he’s uncertain. It’s easy enough to read even with the purposefully relaxed stance he’s forced himself into.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asks finally, his voice lower and raspier with the modulator in his helmet.

“I am here for you,” Cass replies, not seeing a point in lying. She turns to face him directly.

“For me?” Jason doesn’t even try to hide his surprise. “Why?”

“Because it’s Christmas.”

The man stiffens and takes a cautious step back. He knows he’s trapped even if she has barely moved a muscle. “So what?” he snaps back. “I got a bar I’ll be headin’ to shortly. A few beers and a bottle of Jack are waitin’ for me.”

Cass stands and shakes her head. “No. Eggnog. Alfred says it is tradition.”

“Are you gonna try and drag me back to the Manor then? I don’t fuckin’ think so.” They both know that’s a lie. It’ll be hard, but Cass can carry him if she needs to, even if he’s been nerve-struck into unconsciousness.

“Bruce wants you there, even if he won’t say so. I will settle for tonight and am willing to bargain for it first.” It goes unsaid what the second option is.

“What am I, your Christmas gift or somethin’?” Jason snaps defensively. He’s looking for an escape but there isn’t one. Not here, not with her; the one Bat he’s truly afraid of.

Interesting. Cass knows she’s never done anything to him before, so he must have heard about her from the others. Or even the League as he’s got old ties to them, just like she does. But as with any telling, her story grows more and more impressive. This can work for her. Finally, a leg up on Jason that doesn’t involve violence.

“No. I already bought gifts for everyone. Including you.” From a pouch in her utility belt, she withdraws a carefully wrapped package and holds it up. “You are my brother after all.”

Jason chuckles darkly, the sound more ominous through his helmet. “No, I’m not.”

“You are,” Cass insists. “We are both adopted by Bruce.”

“I died. Pretty sure that makes my adoption null and void.”

“Not to Bruce. Or Alfred.” She knows better than to say any of the others. “You are Bruce’s son the same way I am his daughter. We are family.”

Her words are making Jason angry. “We’re not shit. Leave me the fuck alone.” He takes a step back, which forces Cassandra to jump down off the ledge. She doesn’t close the gap though.

“Tonight is all I want,” she says. “I am still prepared to bargain, little brother.”

Jason snorts in disbelief. “Little brother? You’ve gotta be kiddin’.”

Cass shakes her head. “I am older than you by two months.”

“I was dead for longer than that.” Jason’s way with words is distracting her. She knew this could happen and it annoys her a bit that he’s doing it without even trying. What did Tim say Jason was good at? Yes…deflection. He does it too. All of her brothers do. They get it from Bruce.

Her voice hardens as she speaks, “I am still older so you’re the little brother. Now, my bargain.”

Jason doesn’t run, but it’s still a close thing. Cass can see that he wants to. Very badly. It’s only his pride that’s keeping him here now. “Fine,” he snaps. “What is it?”

Cass allows a small smile to appear. “I will owe you a favor. Any favor you want, save for killing someone or hurting someone in our family.”

She hears a low whistle from under her brother’s red helmet. He understands how big this is. A favor owed. A debt. It can be anything that Jason could call upon her for, if he accepts. Even with the restrictions, there is still a wide range of possibilities.

“That’s almost anything I can think of,” Jason says slowly. “Not just the standard vigilantism with a light side of burglary either. You must be desperate.”

“I am not,” Cass replies simply. “I want you to come with me willingly. Unconscious is still an option, but is harder on both of us.”

She waits while Jason thinks it over. Her favor is something he wants, that much she is certain of. It is what he has to do to earn it that is tearing him up.

“How long?” he finally asks. “How long do I need to show up at the Manor for?”

Cass grins and walks smoothly over to Jason, making no sound as she does. She holds out her present for him to take. “Two hours. Eggnog and cookies. Maybe a movie.”

Jason fingers the wrapping on the small box as he looks at it, then at her. “I didn’t get ya anything.”

“I know.”

He toys with the wrapping some more before ripping it off. Opening the small box, Jason takes out the slip of paper and reads it. He starts laughing. “An IOU note? Really, sis?”

“Why not?” Cass replies. “Next year I can get you a better gift.” The only things she knows Jason likes are guns, knives, and books. She won’t get him the former and the latter is difficult unless someone helps, which she can’t ask for without giving the whole thing away.

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Cassandra sits curled up in an armchair, her hands wrapped around a warm mug full of hot chocolate. She’d decided eggnog isn’t to her taste after her first glass. That’s okay, Tim was more than happy to finish it for her. Next to her on the edge of the sofa, Bruce sits with his own eggnog and stares in amazement as his four sons battle it out over who’s getting the last of the spice cake Alfred made. Behind her, standing, but not looming, Alfred watches them all, a cup of tea in hand. He’d said he sampled the eggnog during it’s making and didn’t need more.

“How’d you do it, Cass?” Bruce asks quietly. His eyes never leave Jason, who is currently shoving his hand into Damian’s face to push him away from his prize. That’s a risky move as Damian can and will bite, even at thirteen.

“We made a bargain,” she replies, wrapping her free hand in the overly long sleeve of her Christmas sweater. Tim told her the sweater Dick gave her earlier is an ugly sweater (and explains the story behind why ugly Christmas sweaters are a thing), but she doesn’t think it is. The red reindeer on the green sweater is cute.

“Do I want to know what it is?”

Cass shakes her head. “It is between me and Jason. You only have an hour left, Bruce. Enjoy it.”

Jason had announced to Bruce in no uncertain terms when they arrived via the Cave entrance earlier that two hours is all he’s giving him (them). Alfred didn’t waste any time and promptly brought everyone together in the private living room reserved just for family (the one where the family Christmas tree stands with its mismatching ornaments, riotous lights, and one side that has more tinsel than the other). A movie is playing in the background, but no one is paying attention to it. Dick is glued to Jason’s side, trying to get in as much brother time as he can get. Tim and Damian are warier, but so far, no blood has been shed.

But Cass sees all and senses the undercurrent of…what’s the word…bittersweet. Yes. It’s bittersweet because they all know Jason won’t stay for long. Her brothers know better (for now) than to ask what brought him in the first place but she doesn’t miss the glances sent her way.

Damian knocks over a plate of cookies in his battle with Jason over the last piece of cake. That’s apparently the signal they’ve all been waiting for as Dick whoops loudly and picks up Damian, tossing him across the coffee table and onto the other sofa with a laugh.

“Richard!” Damian shouts as he tries to recover, but Jason’s there in a heartbeat, grabbing him by the foot with one hand as he finishes his cake with the other.

“So this is what it’s like to be the big brother,” he muses and raises his arm.

Damian dangles limply for a moment, in absolute shock that someone is doing this to him. But the moment doesn’t last long as he wriggles and lunges for Jason’s legs. “I will end you, Todd!”

But Jason doesn’t miss a beat and drops the teen back onto the sofa. “I need more eggnog,” he announces and walks back to the trolley Alfred wheeled in earlier.

Dick laughs even harder and Tim quietly puts away his phone and winks at Cass. There will be a video of this sent to everyone later.

“Excuse me,” Bruce says and finishes his eggnog with a quick swallow. He rises to join Jason in getting more.

Alfred takes Bruce’s place on the sofa. “Thank you, Miss Cassandra, for the wonderful gift you’ve given us tonight.” His voice is low, almost too quiet to be heard over the din. Dick is trying to get Tim eat more.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, just as softly. “He wants to come home. Just doesn’t know how.”

“I hope this is the start then.”

“Me too.” With that, Cass finishes her hot chocolate and sets the mug aside. Rising, she darts quickly across the room and jumps onto Tim’s back. He staggers at the unexpected weight and almost falls before he grabs her legs and recovers. “Cookies,” is all she says as she rests her chin on his shoulder.

Tim grins brightly at her. “See, Dick? Here’s someone else you can feed. I’m stuffed.”

Cookies in hand, Cass directs Tim to the trolley where she can get something to drink. Jason and Bruce are having a stilted conversation, but Jason starts laughing when he spots them. “Damn, Pretender. When did you grow an extra head?”

“Two heads are better than one,” Tim replies without missing a beat. “This one is thirsty.”

“She’s definitely the better half.” Jason pours a cup of eggnog and hands it to Cass, ignoring the face she makes. “This is all that’s left. Bottom’s up.”

Cass drinks it quickly. Alcohol isn’t something she enjoys and this cup tastes stronger than the last one.

“You don’t like bourbon?” Bruce asks. He is amused by her reaction.

“No,” she replies and hands the cup back to Jason.

He laughs and takes a metal flask out of one of his pockets, shaking it lightly as he holds it up. “It needed some help.”

Bruce nods and doesn’t look ashamed in the slightest.

Tim laughs some more and tries to set Cass down, but she tightens her arms around his neck. “A little help here?” he asks plaintively.  

“Nope.” Jason shakes his head. “I already learned my lesson tonight, I don’t need another one.�� His words say one thing, but Cass sees deeper than the surface as his eyes lock on to hers.

Thank you is what he really means.

She grins and mouths the words back to him. Perhaps next year, he’ll be able to say them out loud.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

[Gift Fic] What Are We Watching?

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2CwWrN6

by Aya_kunZeroaddicted

Holidays often bring the family together. (Whether it's in happiness, by obligation, bribery, blackmail, or loneliness, did that really matter?)

And one event that helps (or not -depending on the choice) is family movie nights.

And for this evening, it was Cass' turn to choose.

Words: 2006, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown

Relationships: Batfamily - Relationship

Additional Tags: #batfamchristmasstocking, #batfamxmasstocking2k17, holiday bonding, family movie nights, Gift Fic, Slice of Life

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2CwWrN6

[renecdote]

Roll Call

Written for the @batfam-christmas-stocking event. I chose @batfem's prompt "late night". Hope you enjoy!!

Summary: It’s been… not a hard day, exactly, but a long one, and Bruce is tired down to his bones. There’s one thing he has to do before he can rest though. One thing he does every night he can.

Bruce runs a hand through his damp hair and tosses his towel in the laundry basket on his way out of the locker room. He pauses by the Batcomputer, dark and looming with only the safety lights illuminating the Cave. He could… Bruce shakes his head. No. It’s late. Only an hour and a bit shy of early morning. And the only open cases he has aren’t urgent.

Leaving the Cave behind, he makes his way to the kitchen. Raids the fridge for a quick snack and eats it standing at the sink, looking out over the moonlit grounds. Out of the city, it’s peaceful at this time of night. No dirty alleys, no backdrop of gunshots and screams. Just the moon and the stars twinkling above the quiet ground.

Inside, the Manor is dark and just as quiet with all his kids in bed. Bruce feels a calm, a peacefulness, that only comes when he knows where all his family are. Knows they’re safe and sound, tucked between a thousand thread count sheets instead of swinging into danger.

It’s been… not a hard day, exactly, but a long one, and Bruce is tired down to his bones. There’s one thing he has to do before he can rest though. One thing he does every night he can. It starts with a winding route back upstairs that takes him past Alfred’s quarters. He pauses outside the door, listens for silence, then cracks it open just enough to reassure himself that yes, Alfred is in bed, asleep. Safe. Then, paranoid mind easing with every step, he goes upstairs to repeat the process with all his children.

Damian had been sent back from patrol just after midnight despite his protests. It is, after all a school night, and grumpy overtired preteens have taught Bruce that curfews are important. Bruce stops to check on him first. His youngest is splayed out on his back, snoring lightly in tandem with the dog who is curled up beside him. Bruce slips silently into the room to untangle the sheets from Damian’s legs and carefully tuck it around him. His son grumbles a bit in his sleep, but does not wake and Bruce further risks waking him by kissing his forehead. When he lifts his head, green eyes are gleaming at him through the darkness. With a quick stroke of the cat’s soft fur, he leaves them all to sleep.

One down, four... no, three to go.

Bruce had personally delivered Tim to the Cave not quite an hour after Damian to make sure he got medical attention for a twisted ankle. He finds him now sitting up in bed, ankle propped up on pillows, head tipped back and laptop sliding off his lap. Bruce sighs, a little amused, and sets the laptop on Tim’s nightstand. Moving Tim into a more comfortable position is a little harder but somehow, probably due to painkillers, he doesn’t stir. Not even when Bruce tucks his unruly hair behind his ears and pulls a blanket up to his chin.

Two down.

After returning Tim, Bruce had passed Cass on her way in as he was heading out again, and she'd given him a quick hug with her “goodnight”. He feels a beat of panic now when he cracks open her door and finds her bed empty. A quick search, though, settles his worry and makes him smile. A small, tugging movement of his lips that is glimpsed for only a moment in the moonlight streaming through the windows. Cass is sitting on a yoga mat beside her bed, limbs pulled into a lotus position and face slack. Either with sleep or deep relaxation. Bruce leaves her be; he knows better than to wake Cass without some kind of body armour on.

Three down.

Jason went off comms an hour and forty-five minutes ago and Oracle reported his last known location to be just outside his apartment. Bruce hates that he can’t stick his head in and check on him now as well. He’d had to console himself with a quick stop by Jason’s safe house on the way home, a quick peak in the window to make sure he really is safe and okay.

Maybe… Maybe sometime Bruce will be able to check him off his list at home.

Dick was last, signing off with a cheery “goodnight, B” before heading home. Bruce takes an extra minute in his doorway, observing his eldest. As much as his kids squabble about it between them, Bruce doesn’t have favourites. But Dick was the first lost bird he took in, the one who started it all, and for that alone he’ll always hold a special place in Bruce’s heart.

“Bruce?” Dick mumbles. He doesn’t lift his head from his pillow, doesn’t move noticeably at all. But despite the drowsy tone of voice, Bruce suspects he was never really asleep. Just like he did when he a kid, he’ll have been waiting up to make sure Bruce made it back at the end of the night. He, out of all Bruce’s kids, most understands this final check-in ritual.

“Yeah, chum, it’s me,” Bruce says quietly, stepping forward to run his fingers through dark strands of hair. “Go back to sleep.”

Dick hums, reaching up to lock his fingers around a chunk of Bruce’s shirt. “You first.”

Bruce chuckles. “You’ll have to let go of me for that to happen,” he points out. But Dick just tugs a little on his shirt and Bruce gets the hint. He sits on the edge of the mattress and lifts his shirt up, showing scarred and bruised skin where a lucky shot had slipped by his defences earlier. Of course Nightwing noticed. “Just a bruise,” Bruce promises. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” Dick says, looking up at him with serious eyes. And even though Bruce knows he has his own checks he does at the end of the night, he asks, “Everyone else?”

“Also fine.”

“Good.”

By now, the sky is starting to lighten behind the room’s blackout curtains, chasing the night away. Bruce should really be getting to his own bed, squeezing in a few hours sleep before Alfred forces him out of bed to deal with the demands of another day. But he takes another second, with the house dark and silent save for the steady breathing of his eldest beside him, to just sit and be grateful. Everyone is accounted for. Everyone is safe. Now the night is over.

[huilian]

Hot Chocolate and Cookies

Characters: Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain

Summary: Patrolling on holiday time sucks. Thankfully Stephanie has some company. And a thermos of hot chocolate.

A/N: A @batfam-christmas-stocking gift for @bisexualkori. Hope you like it!

Stephanie was patrolling. It was quite quiet. Heh. Quite quiet.  It seems that even the lowlife thugs were off celebrating Christmas too. She could see decorations, scant as it was in this area. Of course, there was no holidays for the vigilantes of Gotham. The Big Bad Bat declared it to be so. Bruce, not Dick. Dick would want a holiday. Hmm. Maybe he could be persuaded for a night off.  As quiet a patrol as it was and as much holiday cheer there was in the streets, it was not a nice patrol for her that night. She was wearing her winter gear, yet she was already shivering. Winter in Gotham didn't mess around.  At this point, she would welcome a random mugging or two. At least it would get her moving. And warm.   Ah, there it was. You could not go a few minutes in Gotham without witnessing an act of crime. Well, Batgirl to the rescue. As usual.  She fought better now. After years of training with Cass as Spoiler, and months of extensive training with Barbara as Batgirl, she could go toe to toe with Tim now. Most of the thugs in Gotham didn't have a chance.  A few hits in, and the thug was down. Batgirl tied him up and called it in. She gave the woman he was mugging her bag back, plus a smile (which Batman (Bruce) never gave.) After she did all that, she heard a noise that only one person in the world could give. “Tt. You took three minutes to stop this. I could have done it in one.” Stephanie sighed. “Robin. What brings you to this part of town? And why are you here without Batman?” “I am qualified enough to patrol on my own, Batgirl.” “You ditched Batman, didn't you?” Stephanie felt a smile growing on her face.

“Tt.” “Ha!” Oh, she was enjoying this so much. “Did you ditch Batman to come find me?” she teased. “No.” Damian didn't give an explanation, so it meant that he did. God, she was getting good at Damian speak. The horror! “You did! Aww, I'm flattered, Robin.” “Batman was handling a case he didn't want me to see. He told me to wait in the Batmobile. I'm hardly going to do it.” “Still, you came for me. That's so sweet, Robin,” Stephanie cooed.  “This was a mistake. I'm leaving, Batgirl." “Hey! Don't leave. You can patrol with me if you don't want to wait in the Batmobile,” Stephanie offered with a smile. With Damian there, she would at least be moving all the time. Warmth was an equal compensation for dealing with Damian. And she still need to teach him how to be a real boy. Damian eyed her for a moment, then nodded his head slowly. It was like he was granting her a huge favor for accompanying her on her patrol. Oh well. That was what she got if she make nice with assassin children.  They had only went a couple rooftop before Stephanie heard someone landing behind them. Years of working with her and being ambushed by her let Steph know that they could hear Cass landing because she wanted to be heard. If Cass wanted to be heard, that meant she had something for them. The only thing she wasn't sure was whether that something was good, or bad.  Cass gave her a thermos. Steph opened it, and the smell of Alfred's hot chocolate seeped through. Steph inhaled it. That something was good. It was very good. Alfred's hot chocolate was a gift to mankind.  “This is why you're my favorite, BB,” she said as she poured a generous amount of hot chocolate into the thermos' cup.  “Hey!” “Well, you didn't bring me anything, Robin, so shut your mouth.” “Who says I want to be your favorite, Batgirl?” “Enough. Drink your hot chocolate, Batgirl," Cass said. She produced another thermos and gave it to Robin. “Here's yours, Robin.” Then, she produced another thermos -where did she put it?- and poured some out. She sat down on the rooftop, then sipped at her hot chocolate. Stephanie joined her immediately. Damian, after standing for a while, eventually joined them.  They were silent for a while, each drinking their hot chocolate. The taste was exquisite. As was  said before, Alfred's hot chocolate was a gift to mankind. What's more, the beverage gave Stephanie a pleasant warm feeling in her belly, and the hot cup thawed her fingers.  “BB, I thought you're not in Gotham for the holidays,” Stephanie said as she sipped her hot chocolate.  “Not supposed to be. Batman called me back.” “B?” Stephanie couldn't believe it.  “The other one.” “Oh.” Now that Stephanie could believe.  “He also told me to tell you both that patrol will be cut short.” Damian stopped moving. “Both?” “Yes, both, Robin.” Stephanie couldn't help but laugh. The look on Damian's face. It was almost like he couldn't believe that Dick would notice him ditching the Batmobile. “It's alright, Robin," Stephanie said between bouts of laughter. "Go ahead and ditch the Batmobile. Batman wouldn't notice." Even Cassandra smiled. Damian scowled. It was, in short, a very amusing was to spent one's night.  After her laughter had subsided, Stephanie asked why exactly patrol was cut short. “Holiday season,” Cass answered, “Batman asked.” “B?” Stephanie wiggled her eyebrows. She knew the answer, of course. Bruce will never ask to cut patrol short.  “Tt. Of course not.” “The other one,” Cass repeated, amusement glinting on her eyes. Not that her mask let Steph to see her eyes, but, well, Steph knew her.  “So? Are we going back or not?” Stephanie asked.  “Not yet.” Cass produced several cookies from her utility belt. Alfred's cookies. Oh, she really was an angel. “Cass, I retracted my previous statement. That,” she pointed to the cookies, “is why you're my favorite. ” Cassandra smiled. Then, before she gave any cookies to any of them, she put one in her mouth. Stephanie's eyes bulged. “Hey!” she said.  She could feel Damian moving the same instant she did. But Cassandra was too fast for the both of them. She dodged both of them, ran to the edge of the building, then jumped.  “Catch me!” Cassandra said. Oh, this would not do. Stephanie locked eyes with Damian. He nodded. Steph smiled. They would catch Cass, and liberate the cookies, whatever the cost.  They went to the Bunker after, hoping to find more cookies. They laughed all the way there.

[kuppakoopa]

hi my name is tim drake and welcome to jackass

(a stocking stuffer for @rannajii and her prompt injury (for the @batfam-christmas-stocking ! i hope u like it!)

[kindaangelic]

This was a gift for @marudny-robot, who is a complete sweetheart!

============

Damian Wayne was a man on a mission, and that mission was to utterly violate Tim’s privacy.

Damian sprung around the corner of the hall, dodged a trip wire, rolled over to the wall, and somersaulted over to Tim’s bedroom door. He picked the lock expertly and snuck inside, closing the door gently behind him as he entered Drake’s sanctum sanctorum.

With a frog-like grin, Damian went over to the closet and opened it to find a safe with an eight character word lock. He attached his digital code breaker (one of Drake’s own, pilfered from his utility belt), and set the machine to work, watching closely as the code breaker cycled through combinations of letters.

K…O…N…S…B…U…T…T

Damian snorted derisively as the door swung open, silently criticizing Drake’s base desires. He let out a triumphant squeak as he laid his tiny mitts on the mother lode, sheafs of pictures that Drake had kept hidden away. Who knew what these contained? Oh, the power he would have over Drake with these deep, dark, pictures of…

[ghostjasontodd]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson (mentioned) Additional Tags: prompt: Damian Wayne hates Santa Claus Summary:

Damian Wayne writes a letter to Santa.

prompt fill for @kindaangelic in the @batfam-christmas-stocking exchange

[batfam-christmas-stocking]

Gen Batfam Christmas Stocking

Welcome to the first ever Gen Batfam Christmas Stocking event!

As this is the first time this event has been run, I apologise in advance for any problems that may crop up. Hopefully I’ll be able to figure everything out and get it running smoothly.

How it will work:

If you would like to participate, fill out the stocking template then submit it to this blog (through the “Submit Stocking” link). Stockings will be published to the main page so everyone can go through and have a look at what others would like. Pick as many prompts from other people’s stockings as you’d like (the more stockings the better - we want to make sure everyone gets something) and get creating!

Rules:

1. All content must be gen.

2. If you submit a stocking you must create at least one work for another participant. (If, for some reason, you sign up then cannot do so, don’t freak out. Send an ask or a message and we’ll work something out.)

3. Respect the wishes of a person’s stocking. This is supposed to be fun so be nice. If a person says they do not like a particular thing, don’t include it in any content you create for them.

4. Tag any content you create for the event with #batfamchristmasstocking so it can be reblogged here and everyone can enjoy it.

Timetable:

Sign-ups open - 24th November

Sign-ups close - 8th December

All works due - 3rd January

Filled stockings released - 5th January

If you have any questions, consult the FAQs page or send in an ask.

-Ren