Batboys Headcannon
What’s it like to spend Christmas Eve with each of the boys?
Prompt List // Masterlist (in bio)
Dick Grayson
Christmas Eve at Dick’s apartment is magical. The extravagant
decorations are up, music is soft, presents are wrapped neatly under a
perfectly sized tree. There’s no obligations and no worries, aside from
the annual ball of Bruce’s that you’ll attend the next day. But even
that isn’t until the evening.
Christmas is his favorite
holiday, right above April Fools and Valentine’s Day. He’s thrilled to
spend it with you, and even more so when you agree to stay the night
before, which is arguably a separate holiday of its own.
He
pours you a glass of eggnog and a mug of hot chocolate, and then you
huddle up on the couch beneath a red and green striped blanket to watch
every Hallmark Christmas movie ever made.
At the end of your
marathon, you exchange small gifts. It’s a tradition you’ve upheld for
the past three years, and he certainly isn’t about to let it go.
Sometimes it’s a cozy pair of socks you become obsessed with, sometimes
it’s a new pair of pajama pants he scarcely takes off, and sometimes
it’s giant box of candy you both end up emptying before New Year’s.
This year, it’s a snuggly, ugly sweater from you, and tickets to a ballet the next day from him.
Then, you move to the bedroom, dragging that red and green striped blanket with you.
You slide under the covers with him, curling close to keep out the
cold that thin window panes do little to defend you from, fully intent
on getting to sleep at a decent time.
Alas, as seems to happen
every time you lay down in hopes of sleeping, you end up lying awake
until nearly midnight, chattering about old memories of snowflakes and
shining wrapping paper and evergreen trees.
Jason Todd
Jason Todd, as hard as he tries, doesn’t have a lot of spare time.
He’s either in his dark office, out patrolling, or off in some part
of the world farther from home than you’d like for “work”. Any spare
second he does have is spent making it up to you. You don’t mind. You’re
busy enough with your own masked duties and a day job.
Even through the holiday season, you’re both a bit lost in blue screens and odd phone calls.
Thus, Christmas Eve is typically spent putting up a few cheap
decorations and wrapping simple—albeit thoughtful—gifts all while
listening to age old Christmas movies.
This year, you ended up
spending Christmas out of Gotham. A safehouse somewhere in New York
City. It was shabby and a little odd smelling, and you didn’t have a TV.
So, you lit cheap candles to chase off the smell and set up your
laptop on the coffee table. Jason griped and groaned about having to
bring your single, fully packed tote of Garland and lights and other
odds and ends of red, green, and gold. But around eight o'clock, you
found him fussing over the little tree you’d propped up in the corner
with a bowl of water.
“Even the Charlie Brown tree and a bulb on it,” he argued. “At least you can have some lights and these little ornaments.”
You let him do the tree himself. You always do. You trust him with
the handful of childhood decorations you kept. He didn’t have much of
this through his childhood. Even with Bruce, the tree was set up and
decorated while he was asleep.
When the living room is finally
finished, and the tote is empty, you settle down on the couch with a
glass of wine each to finish the playlist of Christmas movies.
This year, you fall asleep with heavy eyes settled on the modest pile of
presents wedged under the tree that barely reaches your waist.
Tim Drake
For as long as you’ve been together, you’ve spent both weeks of
Christmas and New Years at Wayne Manor. Partially because Bruce always
has a place at the table for you both, and particularly because Bruce
always needs help with the holiday mugging and minor theft.
The
manor is always decorated perfectly to the heavens for the holidays.
All you and Tim bring into the house, aside from your bags, is a few
presents. Though secretly, Tim’s been bringing some of your hand-me-down
family ornaments to be sure they make it on the tree, on an endtable,
or anywhere else he and Alfred can find a safe, subtle spot.
You always carry on your family’s tradition of ruining the kitchen on
Christmas Eve. Sugar cookies, pineapple cookies, peanut butter balls,
coconut rockers, mint brownies, and half the kitchen’s contents all
strung about the wide counters of the huge kitchen.
You always
get your cookies made, but true to tradition, most of the ingredients
end up all over your clothes, the floor, and somehow the ceiling. And
once, despite every manor of logic, the roof (a story your family
loves to hear at every gathering. They lose it every time Ace plunges
through the window, even though they’ve heard it a thousand times).
Damian is never sure how the baking gets done. Every single time he
strolls past or pops in to steal a few fresh made goods, you’re singing
loudly and off key while Tim guides you around in some sort of messy
ballroom freestyle. He doesn’t say anything, because you’re always
grinning, and he’s always laughing, and the cookies are very good.
Once all the cookies are finished, and rationed, you steel upstairs to clean up and slip into pajamas.
You always finish the night off with delicious dinner and warm
fireside conversation with his family, and this year isn’t any
different.
Damian Wayne
Typically speaking,
you’re more inclined to stay in all night and most of the following
day. You aren’t close with your family, and he finds his own a bit
overbearing when all in one building.
Though, they drop in
separately, throughout the evening. They have their own plans, most of
the time, but they always seem to find time to stop in and say hello, and merry Christmas, you hermits.
You don’t do gifts. Since you were childhood friends, you’ve never
exchanged gifts on particular occasions. You decide it just isn’t all
that practical, with all the money you spend of one another on random
days through the year. Though, you always join forces to tackle the long
list of family he has to shop for and the never-ending stream of
Christmas cards from and to your family.
Christmas Eve is a lot
of movies. And some baking, but mostly movies. You’ve both worked hard
to make sure you both had the extra time to take a week long break, so
you’re both exhausted. By movies, we mean sleeping on the couch all day,
you on top of him (and a few times, him on top of you), with holiday
movies playing in the background.
You can’t count the number of
times you’ve cracked your eyes open, still bleary and half-witted, to
find his droopy, tired eyes sparkling as he smiles so sleepily at the
dumbest Hallmark romance tropes. You never comment, never speak of it.
You merely close your eyes again, and drift back off to sleep with
dreams of sugar plums and fairies and your Ice King (a name he earned
over a triumphant feast following a won snowball fight with his brothers
last year) and his glittering cold crown.
That evening, when
you’re both wide awake, you sit down with glasses of wine and a holiday
puzzle with more than 1,000 pieces. By the time you finish, you’re
mumbling words to Christmas songs that you aren’t sure are entirely
correct, and he’s laughing loudly about it.
