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Bruce Wayne was Santa Clause.
Okay, so not literally. One secret identity was enough, thank you very much.
But this year, the "Wayne Enterprises Holiday Fundraiser for Gotham's Children and Youth Gala" - and boy, wasn't that a mouthful - would have a very special guest.
To be fair, Bruce hadn't been entirely paying attention in the meeting when he had agreed to this. There had been a hostage situation happening, after all. Bruce had sat at the head of the table, tapping away on his phone as he monitored Red Robin's progress, ready to make an excuse to leave at a moment's notice. But it had just been one angry man with an unloaded weapon and Tim took him down easily enough. Bruce really had to learn to let other people handle things in his city. Someday. Eventually.
Especially if he didn't want to accidentally agree to dress up as Santa Clause for the party ever again.
"Oh, you look great," Tim zoomed in on the bright red outfit.
"Take that picture," Bruce lifted a white-gloved finger, "and you'll never see that phone again."
"Eh," Tim tucked the device in his pocket, already having snapped a couple candid shots, "I've got extras."
"Well," Alfred adjusted Bruce's faux beard, "I think you look splendid, Master Bruce. The children are going to love you."
"Or be terrified of him," Tim shrugged. "I know you're in costume, but try not to accidentally use your Batman voice on the kids."
"Keep it up," Bruce pulled the fluffy hat over his head, "and I'll make you my elf."
"As the future Wayne Enterprises CEO, I feel that one of us should be out and about greeting guests and shmoozing."
"Then by all means," Bruce smiled stonily, "you can wear the Santa suit."
"Nope," Tim popped the "p" and grinned, "you made a promise at the board meeting. And you've always taught me to be a man of my word. What would this teach me, especially as the future head of the company? Besides, St. Nick is an old man, not -"
Tim laughed the whole way down the hall as Bruce chased him.
Tim did, in fact, have extra phones. There was, of course, his Tim Drake, personal mobile. There was also his Tim Drake, Wayne Enterprises mobile. Then there was the Red Robin secret cell. The burner for undercover gigs.
And the one propped up right across from the Santa station, recording.
Bruce hadn't noticed it yet. And Tim honestly wondered what would happen if he did. He wasn't just playing the part of billionaire bachelor Bruce Wayne. He was also jolly old Saint Nick. It wasn't like he could just waltz across the room and crush the device with his bare hand. Well, he could. But that would have been really bad PR.
For how much the Dark Knight's baseline personality was under the category of "brooding", it never ceased to amaze Tim at how much the man could actually smile. And not those fake, plastered on persona smiles for board meetings and galas. Bruce was honestly smiling. Despite how much he hated the get up, Bruce was still good with kids. Maybe not entirely with raising them, but this? Bruce actually shined at this.
Bruce said that he took Dick in so that the boy wouldn't let revenge mold his childhood. He claimed to have adopted Jason to try to channel his anger against criminals and save the kid from becoming a criminal himself. Tim knew those weren't the sole reasons. Otherwise, Bruce wouldn't still be collecting kids like Pokémon. It wasn't like he went seeking kids or teenagers out, but Bruce never turned them away. Heck, he had legally adopted a few of them. Despite some of his questionable parenting methods, Bruce really did love kids. How he went out of his way to offer them bounty from his personal secret snack stash when a parent brought their child to Wayne Enterprises. The candy he kept in his utility belt. The way he consoled those he rescued. Tim had lost count of how many had been wrapped up in that cape until police or parents came for them, his Batman-voice turning soft and gentle as he soothed them. The same voice he used when Tim or his siblings awoke from a nightmare or were badly injured.
He wasn't using that voice for Santa, but thankfully he wasn't pulling a full Batman bass. It was deep, but round instead of rough. Tim almost thought that Bruce was doing a Superman impression. He would send the footage to Conner later to compare notes.
"Excuse me, Mr. Drake?"
Tim turned, his polished grin set in place.
"Mrs. Schaffer," Tim grasped her hand.
"How many times have I told you to call me Connie?" She tilted her head in mock admonishment.
"And how many times have I told you to call me Tim?" He lifted an eyebrow.
"That's different," she waved a hand, "you're going to be my boss someday."
"Connie," Tim's smile was now entirely genuine, "you've been with the company for over thirty years. I think I'll still listen if you tell me what to do."
"Don't say things like that," she shushed him, "you can't remind me that I've been working in this building for longer than the next CEO has been born. You'll make me feel old."
"How can I make someone feel old, when they look so young?"
Tim almost gave a shudder with how much that sounded like Bruce.
"Speaking of young," Connie stepped to the side, revealing a round faced and rosy cheeked girl with brown curls, "this is my newly adopted granddaughter, Lily. Lily, say hello to Mr. Drake."
Tim gave the woman a little look at the use of his surname again but quickly bent down to shake the girl's outstretched hand.
"Hello, Tim."
"Lily," Connie chided with a laugh.
"Is what he said!" She giggled, still shaking Tim's hand vigorously.
"At least someone listens to me," Tim winked at the kid.
"Lily," Connie began, stage whispering, "is a little afraid of Santa Claus. I told her that you knew him very well," she gave a sly smile, "and that maybe you could convince her to go say hello."
Tim squinted up at the woman, subtly shaking his head at her. Turning his attention back to the child, Tim squatted down on his haunches.
"Your grandmother is right, you know," he spoke softly, "I do know him. He's actually a close - friend. It's almost like we're family, really."
"Nuh uh," Lily furrowed her brow and pulled her hand back a little too quickly. "You don't seem mean."
"Why?" Tim cocked his head, watching as the girl who had mere moments ago held nothing but smiles for him, was now back cowering behind Connie's leg. "What makes you think Santa is mean?"
"Janie's foster brother said he watches you when your sleeping and pun - pun - hurts kids if they be bad."
Tim's face fell, his heart falling right with it.
"Janie's daddy - he went in her room when she was sleeping, too."
Tim's vision tinted red.
"Janie was in the same group home as Lily," Connie explained soberly, "but my daughter and her husband could only afford to adopt one child. It's why they brought her tonight, to see her friend."
"Janie's here?" Tim asked, glancing around while trying to keep his expression neutral.
"Yes," Connie nodded, "she's with the other children from the foster system. But, she won't talk to anyone, let alone Santa. I thought, maybe, if Lily could be convinced, maybe Janie, I don't know."
"I understand," Tim sighed, and boy did he.
Tim hadn't lived on the streets like Jason had. But he had a lot of the same hurts as these kids. Even if it took coming into a real family to realize them and heal from them.
Santa Claus scared all sorts of kids. But the idea of a man punishing you when you're naughty. A stranger coming into your bedroom at night. Those weren't actions restricted to mythological winter elves. Those were all too real realities of a lot of these children. And it broke Tim's heart. The Drakes had never indulged in the fairytale of Santa Claus, so it was never really an issue for him. But kids deserved to be able to grow up and have silly stories like Santa and not be afraid of them.
Kids deserved to grow up and not be afraid, period.
Tim's eyes flashed with something bright behind them.
There was a different fantastical being that the children of Gotham believed in. There was a lot of contention about him by grown ups, but it was pretty clear across the board how kids felt about the Caped Crusader.
Bruce was not going to like this. And yeah, maybe that made the idea a little more fun.
"Hey Lily," Tim smiled again, "do you and Janie like Batman?"
"I am going to kill you."
"Not if I accomplish the task first, which, I would."
"Shut up, both of you."
Tim stood back and looked over at his two brothers.
"Are you trying to, like, give me PTSD or something?"
Tim laughed. And man, this family was messed up. Because a joke like that shouldn't have been funny. But it was just a relief that they had finally gotten to this point, where Jason could say something like that and not really mean it. Where Jason could joke with them at all.
"Father finally was allowing me to patrol by myself tonight."
"He said you were supposed to be at the party," Tim countered. "But, see? You're already suited up. This worked out perfectly."
"For who?" Damian huffed.
"Hey," Tim flicked a finger at the kid's face, "B wanted you to be his elf, but I talked him out of it. So you owe me."
Okay, so he had threatened Tim with that but, hey.
"And why am I doing this?" Jason grunted.
"Because of your stupidly big heart." Tim shrugged.
Jason just glared.
"Because you've got the brooding face down perfectly."
More glaring.
"Because Dick's in Bludhaven."
Slow blinking now.
Tim dropped the jokes, folding his arms across his chest.
"Because they're afraid of Santa punishing them," he met Jason's hard stare. "They're afraid of a man in their bedroom at night. Because these kids are like us. Scared and hurt. We didn't need some Santa Claus. We needed him. So do they."
"I could just go out in my other outfit and find that son of a bitch father who -"
"Already checked," Tim put a hand on Jason's chest, "and he's in prison. That's not what these kids need."
Jason's jaw clenched and unclenched a few times.
"Fine," he mumbled, "but you owe me."
Bruce eyed the side door for about the 40th time in the last half hour. Tim had been appearing and disappearing through it for awhile now, trading whispers with a few adults, and several children. Gotham's elite, only there to wave and smile for the cameras and keep their connections with the Wayne name, didn't seem to notice at all. The Wayne Enterprises employees, and all of the children in attendance, definitely seemed to be hip to whatever was happening. Especially seeing as Bruce's - Santa's - line had been dwindling. He didn't mind the reprieve for his sore knee, but Bruce was never a fan of not knowing something. Especially within his own company. He knew it was nothing dangerous, with how Tim had been beaming every time he opened the door, but that only made the man all the more suspicious. His son was scheming.
"Hi Santa."
The little boy's voice broke Bruce out of his thoughts and he turned his head toward the child.
"Hello there," Bruce greeted, putting on the voice he used with Diana to mock Clark, "would you like to come here and tell me what you want for Christmas?"
The boy took a step forward, holding out his hand. He wasn't asking to be picked up on Santa's knee, though. There was something small and white dangling from his fingers.
"You've been giving presents every year for, forever. I wanted to give you something."
Something stuck in Bruce's chest as he gingerly reached out and took the beaded bracelet. Each white bead had a little colorful snowflake doodle, some with added glitter.
"Each of us in my foster home made one of the beads." He beamed.
It made Bruce's heart soar and ache at the same time. There were too many beads.
"Thank you," Bruce said sincerely, slipping the bracelet on over the silk white gloves, "this is one of the best gifts I have ever received."
The two talked for awhile until Santa finally got the boy to admit to wanting a bike for himself. Santa might have also asked what the other kids in his house were interested in.
The next little girl slipped on the rug surrounding Santa's chair. She cried and cried. That was, until Santa stood up to go over to her and bellyflopped onto the ground. Then she laughed, and laughed - and laughed some more. He held a snoozing infant for a quick snapshot - where Bruce pretended to be sleeping too. A toddler accidentally kicked him in the shin in her excitement. An eleven year old requested a Batmobile. A teenager asked if his gift could be to leave the party now. Three separate women sat on his knee, two of them whispering what they wanted in his ear.
A young boy, maybe eight or nine, crawled cautiously onto Santa's lap.
"Last year, I asked you to make sure my sisters and I didn't get separated. And you did. A nice man and lady came and adopted all of us! They said we were their Christmas present. So they musta' asked you for kids, too. And you helped them find us. Or us find them. I dunno. But, thank you!"
Bruce sat, speechless. He knew this boy's new parents. A wonderful older couple who worked in different departments at Wayne Enterprises. He had never even met them. They sent him an email out of the blue last year, lamenting about how their children were all grown, and asking Bruce what it was like to adopt. They had been with the company for a long time, and had money from an inheritance so they were living comfortably, still with all four now empty bedrooms. They had followed up with him later about how they were perusing adoption for a sibling set of three. Bruce had gone ahead and covered all of the court costs before they could say no.
Bruce had just replied to an email, about a week after it was sent to him because he had been so busy too. What if he had missed it?
The coincidence felt too surreal and it took Bruce a second to be able to speak again.
"I am so happy for you, buddy."
Bruce opened his arms and the boy leaned forward, barreling into Santa for a hug. Bruce reminded himself not to cry in a Santa costume at his own company.
"This year," the boy's chin sat on Bruce's shoulder as he kept his arms wrapped around Santa, "for Christmas, can you give my new mom and dad something? For a thank you? From me? Well, from you, but, but, from me?"
Bruce rubbed the boy's back.
"You bet."
The line calmed shortly after that and Bruce was in desperate need for some air. The suit was a bit suffocating. And so were all the emotions. Not to mention the fact that he still wanted to know what exactly his own kid was up to. When there was no one else waiting for Santa, Bruce pushed himself out of the massive throne and shuffled over to the side door. Following the sounds of children's laughter, Bruce walked down the length of the large alley and turned around toward the back of the building.
There, in the middle of a sea of smiling kids, were his sons.
...And Batman?
The baton bounced off of the side of the goon's skull before rebounding right back into Nightwing's grip. Hopping down from the fire escape, Dick did a flip before landing behind his targets, a small smile playing at his lips. The men stumbled in surprise and then charged the vigilante. Nightwing ducked the first swing, sending one of his stick's into the attacker's ankle. The man fell swiftly, head hitting the brick wall hard. The two after him went down just as quickly. A small group with guns rounded the corner, firing. Dick flung himself back up onto the fire escape, jumping and flipping up and out of the way of the barrage of bullets until he had climbed to the top. The attackers so predictably followed him, clamoring over each other on the ladder and stairs. Dick waited until they had all begun the climb before tapping his escrima sticks against the metal, electrifying the fire escape, and the men on it. From his vantage on the rooftop, Nightwing could see a flurry of moment down the block.
The package was getting away.
Holstering his sticks, Dick shot a grappling hook into the rooftop and then did a backflip off the side of the building, sliding down next to the men he had just electrocuted, giving them a small wave as he rode the rope down to the ground.
As Nightwing sprinted down the alley and around the building, another small pack of Goons with Guns™️ charged him from the opposite direction.
"Punching bags for Christmas?" Dick sent a fist into the first person to reach him. "You shouldn't have." A right hook and a quick jab took the second player off the board. "But I didn't get you all anything in return!" He brought his elbow up against #3's jaw as the rest of the crew began to surround him. "Oh wait, I did!"
The escrima sticks slid back out from their holsters easily, cracking into a few heads as he brought them out from behind him. It wasn't long before they were all sort of dogpiled at his feet. And he was only a little injured. Barely, really. He liked to think that the blood brought his eyes.
He could still see the small gang's lieutenant, up ahead and racing toward an idling SUV, the package in his hand. The man's head swiveled around as Nightwing broke out to give chase. A boy, maybe 18 or 19, stood nearby filling trash cans for a restaurant while dancing along to the music from his headphones. Either this kid's music was loud enough to drown out gunshots, or living in Bludhaven had already made him numb to the noise. He definitely noticed when the criminal crashed into him as he busied himself looking back at the vigilante. There was a tangle of limbs and brief scuffle that swiftly ended when the man's gun came up to the teenager's temple. The lieutenant hauled the boy up by his collar, pistol pushing against the kid's face as he did while the man kept the suitcase in his other hand.
"Back off or I'll shoot him!"
Nightwing skidded to a stop only a few feet from the two.
"Hey, hey!" The vigilante lifted his hands. "You don't want to do this. You -" Dick's gaze snapped up and over the man's head, his mouth dropping open. "-holy shit! Look ou-"
Just as the lieutenant's head began to turn around, the gun moving ever so slightly away from the kid's face, Nightwing's baton barreled through the air, and straight into the side of the scumbag's skull. His limp noodle body puddled on the pavement.
"I can't believe they still fall for that," Nightwing laughed. "Now this," he sauntered forward, scooping up the suitcase, "is a Christmas present."
He checked the contents, one eye on the temporary hostage.
"Are you okay?"
"Am I - am I okay?" The teenager clutched at his headphones that had fallen around his neck. "I just got saved by Nightwing! I'm fucking awesome!"
The kid held up his fist. Ha! Tim made fun of Dick for still doing that. He had told Dick that no one did that anymore. Dick readily returned the fist bump.
"Yeah you are," Nightwing grinned. "Now maybe keep one ear open from now on, huh? Do you know what city you live in?"
"Yeah," the kid nodded, "right, sorry. New album just dropped. At midnight."
Nightwing checked his wrist.
"It's 12:04."
The kid just blinked at him.
"It's Taylor Swift."
It was Nightwing's turn to blink.
"So," he started slowly, stretching sore muscles, "how is it?"
And that was why Dick Grayson was on his phone in the middle of the day the following day instead of paying attention to his professor's lecture. Winter break started in a few days anyway. How much more could he cram into his head before the finals really? Studying Taylor Swift's lyrics was helping Dick far more than some presentation on the global market economy. Kori and him were on a break, that was it. Seriously. She was going off-planet for a few weeks, maybe longer, and needed "space". He had barely held back on making a joke about her getting space while in space, but humor was how he coped, okay?
Dick had been highlighting one particular song line and trying not to cry in class when the picture came through. It was from Tim and had captured Bruce Batman Wayne half-dressed as Santa Claus. Instead of crying, Dick had busted out laughing in the middle of the lecture. Dick checked the clock on the wall. The Christmas party wasn't for another hour or so.
He skipped the following class and headed straight for Gotham, Taylor Swift serenading - and counseling - him, the whole way there.
The suit felt wrong on him in about one hundred different ways. The fit was fine, but damn if it didn't still feel too tight. Jason tugged on the collar, adjusting the cowl.
"Dude," Tim swatted at Jason's hands, "are you trying to give away the secret identity?"
"I'm still legally dead," Jason huffed, "no one's gonna know who I am."
"Yeah," Tim rolled his eyes, "no one is going to know who you are, at Aayneway Enterprisesyay party. You, the son of Ucebray Ayneway"
"You know over 12 languages," Jason grunted, fixing his brother with a withering glare that he hoped Tim could feel through the mask, "and we know about half of those. And you chose Pig Latin."
"غبي (idiot)," Damian mumbled, tutting.
"小精灵 (gremlin)," Tim shot back.
"Los odio a los dos (I hate both of you)," Jason crossed his arms, fidgeting with the little sharp fins on the costume's forearms.
"Baxtalo Krećuno (Merry Christmas)."
The boys turned their heads up at the new, all too familiar and chipper voice. Nightwing was hanging upside down from an awning.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Jason shook his head.
"Always good to see you, too, Cappuccio Rosso (Red Hood). And I'm here because it's Christmastime! Family-time!"
"You are coming to Christmas dinner in two weeks, are you not?" Robin cocked his head.
"Well, yeah," Nightwing dropped down.
"You want to see it," Tim put a hand on one hip, "don't you?"
"See what?" Nightwing glanced around, pulling a face.
"You know what," Tim pressed, smirking. "But he's inside. You can't really go in there dressed," he waved a hand up and down, "like that."
"I'll have you know this is my finest suit," Dick huffed, straightening his shoulders.
"Why are you in costume?" Damian scurried toward the eldest brother. "Is there something or someone that needs fighting?"
Jason smirked. The kid annoyed the absolute piss out of him, but damn if he wasn't ready to drop a body in defense of Dick Grayson.
"I could ask all of you the same question," Dick kicked one leg up, leaning back against the wall. "I noticed the pajama party and thought I'd get changed and see what was up. But then I saw," Dick wiggled his fingers at Jason, "this."
"Don't worry," Jason shoved Dick's hand away, "I'm not trying to steal it this time. It's all yours when the old man kicks it."
"Like I'd want it," Dick cradled his fingers in mock pain.
Nice try. Jason didn't miss the tiny, actual, wince. He'd ask his brother about it later. Or not. He didn't care.
"Great holiday spirit," Tim rubbed his forehead.
"So," Nightwing looked around the alley, "what are you guys doing?"
Jason turned toward Tim, frowning as hard as he could muster to make up for the concealed glare.
There were footsteps and Jason saw Nightwing readying himself to grapple out of there.
"Oh, here they come!" Tim went to move and then spun around to face them. "Remember, play extra nice or I will hack all of your phones and make the only accessible thing FlappyBird."
"Me too?" Dick squeaked. "I don't even know -"
"FlappyBird doesn't even exist anymore," Jason interrupted.
"Yeah," Tim wiggled his eyebrows, the left half of his mouth twitching up, "I know."
Tim disappeared around the corner and Jason sighed. He added a few new ways to kill Red Robin to his growing mental list.
"This is ridiculous," Damian kicked the ground. "I am leaving."
Jason just grabbed the kid's hood. He wasn't going to be the only one suffering. Having Nightwing there didn't count. Dick was going to eat this shit up. Jason, on the other hand, was absolutely positive that this was going to be a nightmare. He barely knew how to act around his family anymore. Add on the oppressive cowl that came with exclusive BatTrauma©️, and Jason was didn't know if he was going to be able to keep it together. But hey, at least if he scarred some random kid it would be blamed on the big guy instead of him. That almost made him want to self-sabotage.
"Okay," Dick held up his hands, "who wants to tell me what the hel-"
Tim rounded the corner, an older woman and two small children shuffling slowly behind him.
"-lo there!" Nightwing finished with an overly friendly smile and wave.
The round faced girl with dark brown curls peaked out from behind the woman. Her doe eyes went even wider, but the fear gave way to awe. Squealing, she scurried forward, the other child dragged along behind her by the hand. Robin ducked into the shadows. Nightwing began to bent down to meet them but the girl just barreled right past the vigilante, nearly knocking Dick on his backside, and then - right into Jason's legs.
Jason stood very still for several seconds. He was resisting the urge to shake the kid off. Or run away. Or, yet again, murder Tim. Finally, Jason found control of his breathing and body, and knelt down. The brunette didn't detach from his calf as he did so, the other blonde girl hanging back ever so slightly, but a look of wonder and excitement somewhere buried in her eyes.
"Uh, Batman," Tim cleared his throat, "I'd like you to meet some friends of mine, Lily and Janie."
A hesitant gloved hand came up to pat the brunette's - Lily's - back as she clung tight to his boot.
"You told the truth!" Lily smothered her face against Jason's leg, turning just barely to speak to Tim. "You do know him! You do!"
"Of course," Tim grinned, "just like I said I know Santa."
The other one - Janie - stiffened at the elf's name. Jason lifted his other hand out to her to shake.
"Er, it's nice to meet you both."
Janie glanced from the extended hand to her friend to Jason's masked face, and then back around to all three again for good measure. With a steadying breath that made her look too mature for her age, Janie lifted her own her arm. Their hands hung there in the air like that for a bit, not yet touching. Jason wouldn't take her hand first and in that moment he thought he could wait just like that for a lifetime. He fingers twitched until finally, finally, she moved. Janie didn't take Jason's hand, though. The girl bounded forward, crashing into the Caped Crusader, wrapping both arms around his neck. Jason didn't hesitate this time as he brought his arm around her shoulders. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, spotting Dick with a hand over his mouth. Jason would punish him later. He wouldn't ruin this moment for these kids.
For himself.
And then, Jason remembered.
These kids weren't hugging him.
They were hugging Batman.
Jason's mouth tasted funny. Something burned the back of his throat. He had had this, as Robin, a long time ago. People, children, turning to him in cheers or for comfort - or an autograph. No one, no child, would want anything of the sort from Red Hood.
But this wasn't about him. He could wallow in self-hatred and anger at Tim for making him do this later. As much as he wanted to murder Tim, he had been right. This was about the kids.
And yeah, there were a lot of them. More kids filed out into the alley, excitedly seeking out hugs and high-fives, a couple telling him what they wanted for Christmas, all while Jason died all over again inside.
Nightwing and Robin both got their own little fan clubs that gathered around them, Dick laughing and dancing as Damian held out his arms to keep them all at a distance. One little boy scanned the skies, eyeing the rooftops, and peaking into the shadows. Maybe he was looking for Tim's counterpart. Maybe Batgirl.
"What?" Jason sauntered over to the boy. "Three heroes not enough for you?"
He bit his tongue on the word "heroes".
"B - Batman, wow." The kid gaped up at him, twisted the cold knife in Jason's heart with those wondering wide eyes.
"Yup. Me. Batman."
Jason cringed.
"Do you," the boy stuffed his hands in his pockets, glancing away, "uh, is, - never mind."
Jason leaned down.
"What?"
"I - it's stupid," he chewed the inside of his cheek, "cause, it's so so cool that you guys came for us, like, awesome, and, thank you, you know? But, uh, is anyone else coming too?"
"Who'd you have your heart set on, kid?" Jason sighed, his theory confirmed. "Batgirl? Red Robin? Easter bunny?"
The joke made the kid relax just the slightest, but he still wouldn't look at him.
"Promise you won't get mad?" The boy dug his heel into the dirt.
Jason just nodded.
"I was - kinda - sorta hoping - and I know you guys fight sometimes. I've seen it on the news. But sometimes you don't and -"
"Kid."
"Hood," the boy's eyes shot up to meet the mask, "Red Hood."
And yeah, Jason Todd knew over half a dozen languages, but in that moment, he couldn't speak a single word from any of them.
"He saved me and my friends from a fire, and he just looks so cool with that helmet and I really like his boots, and then he went after my friend Michael's dad cause he was hurting Michael and his dad got sent to jail and -"
Not long ago, that kid's dad might have ended up with a bullet in his brain instead of some broken bones and a jail sentence. What would this kid have thought of Red Hood then?
"-he did this super awesome thing where he flipped up off his bike and like rolled forward," the kid twisted his hands around to illustrate, "and then BOOM! It exploded and everyone was screaming 'cause they thought he was hurt but I knew - I saw him jump - and then he just, like, appeared behind the bad guys and bam, bam, bam," the boy punched the air, "bad guys all on the ground! And then you showed up but Hood had already stopped it! And - I know you save a lot of people - and I think you're super cool too, I do, like, you're awesome. But he saved my life two times. And saved my friend. When I heard kids saying you guys were all out here, I thought maybe - I don't know - I could say, thanks, or whatever. When I talk to Santa later, I'm gonna ask him to give Red Hood my present this year!"
For every bit Jason had been dying again on the inside before, each word that this boy spoke seemed to spark new life into him. Being healed by the Pit had been agony. He was being healed again, but this time it was warm and light and a bunch of other things Jason hadn't felt in so long that he couldn't even remember how to describe.
"I - I'm sorry," the kid stammered, stumbling over Jason's silence, "I -"
"No, no," Jason shook his head, searching to find the words, or how to even make words anymore.
Kneeling, Jason put a hand on each of the boy's shoulders.
"What's your name?"
"Mateo."
"Okay, Mateo," Jason nodded, "Red Hood is - eh - busy right now. He's helping - me. But I'm going to tell him everything you told me. I promise."
"You will? Really?" Mateo bounced on the balls of his feet.
"Really." Jason didn't bother hiding his smile.
Before Jason knew it, Mateo's arms were wrapped around his shoulders. He had received more hugs in the last half hour than he had allowed in the last five years combined. But something about this one felt different.
Later, closer to Christmas, Red Hood would drop down outside of Mateo's window. The kid would crawl outside and they would spend the next hour together. Mateo recounting everything he had already unknowingly told Jason, this time with more details and starstruck stammering. Jason handing over a bulging bag of presents for everyone in the group home. For Mateo, a pair of boots just like the vigilante's. Jason would ask how Michel is doing. They'd share a box of chocolates from the collection of gifts, wasting half of it by taking turns trying to pelt a fat rat on the street. Jason would give the kid his number, just in case. And then he would have to leave and before Hood had fully stood, Mateo would tackle the vigilante into a hug. And this one would be different than the one that day. It wasn't Mateo hugging Batman. It was Mateo hugging Red Hood. Hugging Jason. Gratitude and love and excitement and awe - all for him.
But that would come later.
"My foster mom is gonna come looking for me," Matteo pulled away after a long moment, "but thank you, Batman. Thank you!"
The name still stung, but the hurt was less now somehow.
Jason stood, watching as Mateo bounded back down the alley, simply staring off in that direction for awhile until another figure approached in the opposite direction. The hair on the back of his neck went stiff and his body coiled with the same tension it always did when the man was around. But there was something else this time too. It started deep in his stomach and then rose up, building and growing until -
Jason laughed.
Okay, Tim. This was worth it.
Bruce was covered head to toe in bright red fabric. In exchange for a cowl, he donned a bushy white beard and floppy hat. A wide black strip of leather took the place of a utility belt. There was some extra weight around the middle and Jason idly wondered who got to help Bruce shove pillows or something into that jacket. He hoped it was Alfred so Tim had free to snag some snapshots.
Tim looked like he was about to start trying to explain, as Lily and Janie both jumped back and crowded Damian, to his amusing dismay. Sighing, Jason moved toward them.
"Lily," he held out a hand, and then the other, "Janie. I'd like you to meet my - friend."
The girls glanced at each other and then grasped Batman's hands for dear life, letting the man lead them over to Santa. Bruce was watching him, an expression somewhere between curiosity and calculating. Jason cleared his throat a little longer than he needed to.
"Santa," he swallowed, "this is Lily and Janie."
Bruce knelt down, looking between the two girls that huddled between faux Batman's legs. And boy, wasn't this fucking weird. Bending down, Jason urged them forward.
"You -" Lily pursed her lips, "you don't - hurt people - when they're naughty?"
Shit. That was a loaded question. Bruce and Batman both hurt people when they were bad. The guy currently donning the Caped Crusader's cowl had done more than that.
"No," Bruce shook his head, smiling softly, if not a little sadly, "I don't hurt kids if they're naughty. Never."
Clever, Bruce. Because, yeah, he didn't hurt naughty kids.
"So," Bruce's smile brightened, "why don't you two tell me what you want for Christmas?"
The girls never released Jason's hands from their grips as they slowly inched closer to Santa. As they started to slowly speak and smile. It hurt a little to listen to Bruce talking to kids like that. It had Jason hearing Bruce's voice asking after his homework, consoling him after a nightmare, and -
and - hold on -
Why did Bruce sound like Supes?
Bruce Wayne was Santa Claus.
When Bruce found the footage of the event that Tim had uploaded to the Batcomputer, he wasn't mad. Intead, he did what Bruce always did. He got to work. The recording wasn't close enough to pick up all of the voices, but Bruce hadn't made it that far as the World's Greatest Detective without a stellar memory - and some lip reading for a few of them. To keep the kids from getting lost or confused, all of the children from larger group homes had worn differently colored lanyards. A little digging did the rest. Barbara helped with the shopping. Not because Bruce had revealed his plans to her, but because she noticed his search history and demanded to be included. Especially since she apparently missed out on all of the fun. (A fact that she apparently wasn't letting Tim live down any time soon.) It took nearly a full day, but at the end of it Bruce had bought four bicycles, several scooters, a Barbie dream house, 20 tablets, around a dozen laptops, four chemistry sets, about a crate load of comic books, a mountain of these things called Squishmallows, a new gaming system for each home, three skateboards, seven sets of Justice League action figures, a beginner's sewing kit, a book on creating your own secret language (he liked that kid), two full boxed sets of Percy Jackson, a collection of Nerf weapons, a few dozen Logo boxes - and so much more. Every single kid would get two gift cards, one for clothing and the other for fun. There was also plenty of wine and spa certificates and noise cancelling headphones for the parents.
By the end of day number two, he assigned one of his own lawyers to Janie's father's case - to ensure he never got anywhere near her, or any other child again, and found her a suitable, loving family. The same family who had taken in Lily. Sure, they had originally only been able to afford adopting one child, that was true. But they had never felt right leaving Janie behind. Now, with Bruce Wayne offering both the parents jobs at Wayne Enterprises, setting up college funds in both the girls' names, and sending the family a hefty check - things were a little different. (Connie got a raise too. Bruce said it was for everything the woman was going to have to put up with once Tim took over.)
In the following years, Bruce took up the beard and red suit without complaint. Jason and Dick traded off posing as Batman - except that one year that Bruce got Clark to be the jolly old elf and Bruce came in his own suit. He saw Robin smiling the second year. Sometimes Batgirl or Red Robin showed. Spoiler and Orphan too. Then Signal. The Flash crashed the little party once. It wasn't like Wayne Enterprises advertised it or anything. The police probably wouldn't take too kindly to it, and they wouldn't risk criminals targeting an event for kids. But the children kept the secret, passing it down only to others like them. And for years, kids clamored to see Santa - and his masked friends.
So maybe Bruce Wayne was Santa Claus.
He was okay with that.