Batfamily || Christmas!

Christmas at Wayne Manor always felt like stepping onto the stage of some glitter-drenched winter opera, and tonight was no different. Lights glowed along the banisters, garlands looped like lazy smiles, and a fire crackled in the grand hearth. Dick stood near the bottom of the staircase, dressed unmistakably like someone born for festive chaos—a navy cable-knit sweater that hugged his frame, sleeves pushed up, black slacks, and wool socks with tiny acrobatic reindeer on them.

The moment he saw you enter beside him, cheeks chilled from the winter air, he practically lit up brighter than the tree.

“Okay, okay—everyone, behave,” Dick announced as the family looked over. “{{User}} is here. My partner. Which means no interrogation, no surveillance-level questioning, and—Tim—no background checks. I know you did one anyway, but at least pretend you didn’t.”

Barbara snorted from the couch. “Oh, he definitely did one.”

Jason raised a brow. “Did you run one too?”

“Jason.” Dick warned, though he couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t scare them off five minutes into Christmas.”

He leaned close enough that only you could hear him. “Welcome to the Manor. If it gets overwhelming, squeeze my hand and I’ll stage a dramatic distraction. You know... something subtle. Like flipping over the sofa."

Tim, wrapped in a dark red cardigan and holding a mug of coffee way too strong for this hour, muttered, “He’s not kidding. He’s done it.”

Damian crossed his arms, looking you up and down, his black turtleneck immaculate and pressed within an inch of its life. “Drake, Todd—stop embarrassing Grayson’s... friend. They look competent enough. I will decide if they are tolerable later.”

Dick shot you an apologetic smile. “See? Nothing to worry about. This is us on our best behavior.”

And then, with the warmest grin:

“Merry Christmas, {{User}}. Ready to survive the night with me?”

Snow clung to Jason’s leather jacket as he stood just inside the manor’s foyer, kicking the door shut behind the two of you with his boot. The warmth of the house wrapped around you instantly—pine, cinnamon, and the faint scent of something Alfred definitely didn’t intend for Jason to steal cooling on the counter.

Jason looked infuriatingly good for someone who claimed he didn’t care about Christmas attire: a black Henley stretched across his chest, sleeves shoved up to his forearms, paired with dark jeans and his worn leather jacket dusted with snowflakes. His hair was messy in that “I didn’t try, but I still look stupidly attractive” way, and a faint, amused smirk tugged at his mouth as he watched your eyes roam the décor.

“Welcome to the crime scene,” he murmured, leaning close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “Festive edition.”

Before you could even reply, Dick popped his head around the corner in a hideous red-and-green sweater that jingled. “OHHH, look who finally arrived! And brought their partner! Jason, you cleaned up! Sort of!”

Jason flipped him off without looking. “I’ll gift-wrap you and mail you to Blüdhaven. Don’t test me.”

Tim peeked over the railing of the stairs with a coffee the size of his head. “Jason, did you actually warn them about the family dynamic?”

“Nope,” Jason said cheerfully. “I figured it’d be fun to let them suffer.”

You elbowed him lightly, and he caught your hand immediately, thumb brushing over your knuckles like he hadn’t meant to, but couldn’t stop. The contact softened his whole expression.

“Relax,” he muttered to you alone. “I’ve got your back. Even when they get loud. Which will be soon.”

Right on cue, Stephanie gasped from the living room. “OH MY GOD—they’re holding hands! JASON’S HOLDING HANDS. EVERYBODY LOOK. IT’S CUTE.”

Cass hurried over, her soft cream sweater swaying as she hugged you tightly, smiling warmly. She turned and gave Jason a thumbs-up.

He groaned. “Cass, no—don’t encourage her. Steph’s already got blackmail material.”

Stephanie held up her phone. “Too late.”

From the fireplace, Alfred sighed, polishing a tray of glasses. “Master Jason, if you intend to terrorize the manor tonight, kindly refrain from doing so near the tree. Young Master Damian has—what did you call them, sir?—‘booby-trapped the perimeter.’”

Jason scowled. “You WHAT?”

Damian stepped into view wearing an emerald turtleneck that made him look like a very judgmental holiday elf. “If your partner is to survive the evening, they should be tested,” he said, eyeing you. “I have prepared several assessments.”

Jason moved in front of you instantly. “No. Absolutely not. You get one night off from being a baby assassin.”

“Tt. Coward.”

Jason rolled his eyes so hard you heard it.

Then he looked back at you—really looked—and the tension eased from his shoulders.

“Hey,” he said quietly, nudging your chin up with his knuckle. “Seriously. I’m glad you’re here. I know this place can be a lot, and I know... holidays aren’t always the best for either of us.”

His voice dipped, softer than he meant to let slip.

“But it’s better with you here. Makes all this insanity almost tolerable.”

You leaned into him, and Jason’s smirk returned, gentler now.

“C’mon,” he said, threading his fingers with yours more boldly this time. “I’ll show you where Alfred hides the real cookies. If Dick tries to follow us, I’m throwing him off the balcony.”

From the other room, Dick yelled, “YOU WOULDN’T DARE—”

Jason tugged you toward the kitchen with a low laugh. “Merry Christmas, {{User}}. Let’s survive this together.”

Tim smoothed the front of his charcoal sweater layered over a button-down, hair slightly messy from both the wind and chronic overthinking. He’d even put on actual dress shoes—something Barbara teased him about the moment he descended the stairs.

You arrived beside him, your hand brushing his. His cheeks colored instantly.

“Okay,” Tim murmured to you, half-whispering, “the goal is to make it through tonight without someone embarrassing me in front of you.”

Jason, from across the room: “Impossible.”

Barbara looked up from the ornament she was adjusting. “Absolutely impossible.”

Dick leaned over the back of the couch. “No faith in us at all.”

Tim’s face warmed as he shot you a helpless look. “See? They’re already starting.”

Damian approached, hands clasped behind his back in his crisp formal attire. “Drake, why did you not warn us your partner was a vigilante? I could have prepared tests.”

Tim spluttered. “You’re not testing them!”

“Too late,” Damian replied.

Cassandra padded over, wearing a soft, oversized red sweater. She smiled at you warmly, taking your hand in both of hers before signing, Tim cares about you a lot.

Tim coughed into his sleeve. “Cass, please—subtlety—”

Jason crossed his arms. “Subtlety died the day you joined this family.”

Tim squeezed your hand under the pretense of adjusting your sleeve, a small gesture he hoped nobody noticed.

“I’m... really glad you’re here, {{User}},” he said quietly. “Even if this house is chaos incarnate.”

Dick raised a glass in your direction. “Welcome to the family holiday! Good luck surviving, because we’re not normal!”

Tim rolled his eyes but smiled against his will. “...yeah. That’s accurate."

Damian stood at attention near the Christmas tree—black dress pants, a fitted hunter-green turtleneck, and a gold-lined belt that looked more regal than festive. Titus lay at his feet like a furry sentinel. When you appeared beside him, his posture softened just slightly.

“This,” Damian announced to the room, “is {{User}}. My partner. They are competent, capable, and far less irritating than most of you.”

Jason coughed loudly. “High praise.”

Dick leaned on the banister, grinning. “Look at him being all affectionate.”

Damian glared at them. “Grayson, cease your commentary.”

Tim took a sip of his coffee. “Damian bringing someone home for Christmas is... honestly terrifying.”

Cassandra drifted closer, her snowy white sweater sleeves bouncing as she walked. She smiled brightly at you, signing, Damian likes you a lot. More than he admits.

“Cassandra,” Damian hissed, “must you expose everything?”

She nodded. Yes.

You laughed softly, and Damian’s expression flickered—half annoyance, half fondness.

He leaned toward you, voice lower. “Should any of them become intolerable, we will leave. Titus and I have already planned an escape route.”

“Hey!” Dick called out. “No abducting your partner on Christmas!”

Damian ignored him. “I am pleased you are here. Despite... all of this.” He gestured vaguely at his family being dramatically themselves.

Jason slung an arm over Tim’s shoulder. “Welcome to Casa Bats, where emotional dysfunction is the tree topper.”

Damian exhaled sharply. “Do not listen to Todd. He thrives in chaos.”

He looked back at you—genuine, rare softness in his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, {{User}}. You are safe here... with me.”

Cass stood by the fireplace, wrapped in a soft cream sweater with sleeves that nearly covered her hands, black leggings, and fuzzy socks mismatched on purpose. She looked up when she felt you arrive beside her; her smile bloomed instantly—warm, bright, real.

She reached for your hand before anyone else could crowd you, squeezing gently. “Hi,” she said quietly—her voice used rarely, but meaningfully. “You came.”

Dick leaned over the arm of the couch, grinning. “Cass brought someone! And they look cool! Cass always picks the cool ones.”

Jason raised a brow from across the room. “They better be cool. Cass could do way better than all of us.”

Tim nodded. “Statistically, she already has.”

Damian approached, posture prim as ever, dressed in emerald. “So this is Cassandra’s partner. You look capable. Adequate.”

Cass flicked his forehead.

Damian recoiled. “Ow—! Cain!”

She signed to you, Ignore him.

Then she tugged you closer to the fire, showing you the ornaments she had made herself—small clay birds, tiny stars, things painted in soft pastels. She held one shaped like a crescent moon, brushed gold on the edges, and offered it to you.

“For you,” she said simply. “Hang?”

You placed it on the tree together. Jason whistled. “Oh, that’s it. You’re officially in.”

Dick clapped. “Initiation complete.”

Cass rolled her eyes but leaned her head briefly against your shoulder—shy, but certain.

Tim sipped his coffee. “Cass, you’re being very affectionate today.”

Cass glanced at you, then back at him. “Happy,” she said. “Because they’re here.”

Damian muttered, “Tt. Disgusting.”

Cass flicked his forehead again.

She took your hand once more, guiding you deeper into the room.

“Merry Christmas, {{User}},” she said softly. “Stay with me?”

Christmas at Wayne Manor looked like Martha Stewart broke in and fought Alfred for dominance—and lost. Tinsel draped over every possible surface, lights blinked in questionable patterns, and someone (Jason) had already eaten half the gingerbread on the top tier of the dessert tower. Stephanie stood in front of the giant tree in all her festive glory: a bright purple oversized Christmas sweater covered in tiny embroidered bats wearing Santa hats, ripped jeans, and sparkly silver boots that squeaked on polished floors.

The moment she spotted you at her side, she practically shouted, “Okay, EVERYONE—pause whatever weird Christmas ritual you’re doing! I brought my partner! And they’re hot. And they fight crime. And probably better than half of you.”

Jason didn’t even look up from the cookie he was stealing. “Define half.”

Dick, perched on the back of the couch like some kind of acrobatic gargoyle, grinned. “Steph always did have superior taste.”

Tim adjusted his glasses. “Does {{User}} know what they’ve signed up for?”

You started to speak, but Stephanie threw an arm around your shoulders dramatically. “They know I’m irresistible. That’s enough.”

Damian stalked over, dressed in a perfectly pressed emerald turtleneck, arms crossed. “Brown, you failed to inform me your partner was a vigilante. I could have prepared evaluations.”

Stephanie flicked his forehead. “Damian, it’s Christmas.”

“Tt. That is not an argument.”

Cassandra, wearing her soft cream sweater, enveloped you in a gentle hug before Steph could stop her. Like them, she signed with a warm smile.

“See?” Steph crowed. “Cass likes you. That means you’ve already passed the most important test.”

Duke ambled over from the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate, shaking his head. “Steph, you didn’t even tell us they were coming. I would’ve made more cocoa.”

“We’ll share,” Stephanie insisted proudly, leaning into you. “Right? That’s what couples do.”

Barbara rolled forward from the study doorway, dressed in a red sweater with a black bat embroidered across the chest. “Stephanie, stop smothering them. Let them breathe.”

Stephanie scoffed. “No.”

She looked up at you then—softer, gentler, more vulnerable than the chaos she projected.

“I’m really... really glad you’re here, {{User}}.” Then, louder again, “Now somebody take a picture of us! I want it framed by the fireplace!”

Duke stood near the fireplace, letting the warm glow reflect off his golden-brown skin. He was dressed in a soft mustard-yellow hoodie layered under a sleek black coat, tailored slacks, and boots that still had a trace of melted snow on the edges. He carried himself with that easy confidence he never had to force—cool, calm, grounded even in Wayne Manor’s annual holiday pandemonium.

When you appeared beside him, he smiled—slow, warm, genuine. “Hey. You made it. I warned you this place goes full Hallmark movie, but you insisted.”

“Duke brought their partner!” Dick sang from across the room.

Jason groaned. “First Cass, then Steph, now Duke. We’re being replaced by functional relationships.”

Tim sipped his coffee. “Honestly? Good.”

Barbara wheeled in from the hall with a blush-red sweater and jingle-bell earrings that somehow worked on her. “Duke, you didn’t tell us they were a vigilante.”

Duke shrugged. “Thought it’d be fun to surprise you.”

Damian approached like a judgemental holiday elf, his green turtleneck sharp enough to stab someone. “If they are to be with Thomas, they must demonstrate skills. Preferably in combat.”

You opened your mouth, but Duke put a hand on your arm. “Don’t. He sets traps.”

“Tt. I do not set traps.”

Jason yelled from the couch, “He absolutely sets traps.”

Cassandra approached you with a bright smile, signing You’re good. Duke is happy. Then she hugged you before Duke could warn you.

Stephanie materialized out of nowhere, purple boots squeaking. “So THIS is the mystery partner! Duke, why haven’t you sent pictures? Or videos? Or surveillance footage? Something!”

Duke groaned. “I’m not sending you surveillance footage of my dating life.”

She pouted. “Lame.”

Dick clapped Duke on the back. “You did good, man. They look like they can survive all this.”

Duke leaned close to you, voice quiet, warm in contrast to the lively bickering around you. “I’m really glad you're here, {{User}}. I know holidays can be... a lot. But you’re with me. And I promise I won’t let them scare you off. At least, not permanently.”

His fingers brushed yours softly. “Merry Christmas.”

Barbara rolled into the manor’s grand parlor wearing a deep cranberry sweater, black slacks, and a sleek black-and-red shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hair was braided neatly to one side, and she had a mug of hot cider hooked on the arm of her chair. The glow of the Christmas tree lit her copper hair like flame.

When you walked in beside her, she gave you one of her rare, quiet, genuinely warm smiles. “Welcome to the madhouse. Sorry in advance.”

Dick appeared behind her, dramatically leaning over her shoulders. “Babs brought someone! Everyone act normal.”

Jason barked a laugh from the couch. “Define normal, Grayson.”

Tim looked up from his laptop with a weary sigh. “Not possible.”

Stephanie practically skidded in from the hallway, purple sweater jingling with tiny bells she absolutely sewed on herself. “Wait—YOU brought {{User}}? On CHRISTMAS? Oh, this is romance. This is PEAK romance.”

Barbara arched a brow. “Steph, stop narrating my life like a podcast.”

Duke walked up with a cookie in hand. “{{User}}, welcome to the traditional Wayne holiday interrogation. It’s not official, but it definitely happens.”

Damian approached in his flawless green turtleneck, assessing you with narrowed eyes. “Gordon has high standards. You must be exceptional.”

Cassandra hugged you suddenly from behind, signing You’re good. Barbara likes you. Barbara blushed lightly. “Cass.”

Dick clapped his hands. “So! How did you two meet? Did {{User}} sweep you off your feet? Did you sweep them off their feet? Was it a rooftop thing?”

Jason leaned forward. “Please say it was a rooftop thing.”

Barbara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why do I do this to myself...”

Then she glanced up at you again, eyes softening, voice falling to something much more honest beneath all the noise.

"But really, {{User}}... I’m glad you’re here. Holidays here are loud. Messy. A little intense. But you don’t have to figure it out alone.”

She nudged your knee gently with her hand. “I’m right here next to you.”

Dick immediately whispered (loudly), “They’re so cute together,” earning a slap from Stephanie and a pillow thrown by Jason.

Barbara smiled. “Welcome to the family chaos.”