I
Dick has a best friend.
A very special and important friend that's been with him through thick and thin.
It was a used toy that Bruce gave him.
While Bruce was out for the night, Dick cuddles with the toy in front of the fireplace. Waiting. Occasionally, Alfred delivers a cup of hot chocolate in time to overhear young Richard talking with the toy.
When Dick sleeps, he sleeps with the toy beside him and Alfred or Bruce would tuck them in.
When Dick was grieving, after all the smiles he put through, the small toy stood by his side. It soaked in his tears, wipe his tearstained face and listens to the weeping boy. Even in its silence, just being beside him, Dick gradually felt at ease and comforted. The toy returned his smile.
It's very special.
And one day, this toy will pass down to another kin and become that kin's best friend and closest confident. Maybe help move on from their insecurities.
But until then, Dick keeps it close beside him.
II
As much as Jason refuse to admit it, there is a special place in his heart for a small and little Siberian tiger plush toy.
Its faux fur is a shade of golden wheat and black strips that still have the blackness of an abyss. Even after all the years, the toy is still smoother as it once is. It has a name apparently.
Ops.
"He is not it, shithead, he has a name!"
His name is Ops, don't fucking forget it.
No questions asked.
III
Cassandra doesn't know what to buy.
In fact, Cassandra doesn't want anything. She followed her brothers around the mall and while they picked up a plastic gun or bows, she would approach Bruce empty handed and left the mall without having bought anything.
Bruce begins to feel guilty.
His sons all have something they want and it took time and patience to discourage them from buying but Cass wasn't anything like them.
And it worried him.
She's such a good girl, there must be something that she wants!
While on his way back from an overseas business trip, Bruce picked up a little something – a large teddy bear. One that is about Jason's height. And returned home with it.
She gave her father a big hug when he gave it to her.
Cass loved it.
Every day when she came back from school, she would give a hug to the bear and semi-disappear into the furriness.
But… she never gave another hug to her billionaire playboy father.
IV
Tim's birthday was coming up and Cassandra Cain was having trouble deciding what to buy for the young boy's present.
Alfred was buying him a vintage detective set.
Bruce, a new set of high tech laptop that's yet to be released.
Dick cashed in on an expensive software that Tim had been saving up for.
Jason bought some kind of R18 game.
And Damian wrote Tim a card.
Man, Damian acts fast. Cass's only idea got swept up and now she's at the dead end with Tim's birthday only a few days away.
"Why don't you buy him something that you really like and feel important or of sentimental value? By the way, I'm buying Timmy a dress. Which do you think is better black or red?" Stephanie chimed over the phone. From all the noise in the background, Cass could tell she's at the mall again.
Something I really like… and feel important… sentimental value… Then, she remembered a fond memory and an item that means a lot to her.
Candles blown out and the lights switched back on, it was time to unwrap the presents. It was one of Tim's speciality.
All the presents were covered in boxes and with only a little shaking here and there, as well as some light cold reading (and investigation prior to his B-day), he roughly figured out their gifts. The card that was unnecessarily packaged with a fancy coat and ribbon, the R18 game that Bruce is sure to confiscate after the unravel, the detective set that Tim made sure to put in his display cabinet, the new laptop which he will promptly download the software his brother bought.
Yet one present stood out. Apart from the dress he'd planned to burn secretly.
A thing that's large, soft and had four legs. And is that a horn on its head…
It was the first present he unwrapped.
Inside is a gigantic unicorn. A gigantic and colourful unicorn in pastels.
Around its neck is a small card.
'Happy Birthday from Cass'.
Tim looked back at Cass.
She had a weary gaze, worried that he might not like it after all and it was the wrong gift. Especially when Jason and the demon-spawn started teasing him about it. She got uneasy.
Timothy Jackson Drake flashed a warm smile nonetheless.
"I love it!" he said with all the pride and manliness he could master.
He saw a relief smile on Cassie.
And he was going to name it, Gladius.
V
Damian will never admit.
Never.
The one old, vintage shop that the Waynes pass by everyday on their sleek black cars and the occasional nightly batmobile, on the window display, is a stuffed toy turtle.
Damian have seen turtles sunbathing at the rocks, just outside the walls of the association. It was a rare sight and it was a weird creature to the little boy. He remembered his mother once pointed out the strange creatures on their way home and told the boy what it is. Kindly and motherly.
From that sighting, no turtles were seen ever again.
Then he spotted the said creature in the shop. In the form of a plush toy.
He secretly dubbed the plushie, Iago.
Today again, he stole a glance at the toy. Relief that it had not been bought and sad that it will one day be bought.
Walking past the store like any other day, Damian peeked at the window display.
!
Iago…
Damian inhaled and bit his lip. His heart thumped in his chest.
He wanted to go in that shop, ask Alfred to stop the car, and ask that old woman shop owner where it is.
But his pride just won't allow it.
An assassin and a plush toy? That's blasphemy.
He sulked and trudged to school. His remarks were crueller than usual and sulked back home with crossed arms.
"Hey, buddy," it was Grayson, "How was school?"
What does it matter? Iago is gone forever.
"It's still packed with time and oxygen wasting idiots."
He climb past Grayson and up to his room.
Damian twisted the doorknob and push.
His eyes widened.
Sitting on his bed, as if it owned it, is Iago the stuffed toy turtle.
"You gave me trouble, you stupid turtle."
VI
Bruce held a pamphlet of a well-known therapy clinic but he's not so sure.
Behind that sunshine smile and youthful energy, young Richard 'Dick' John Grayson doesn't seem ready to talk. About what happened. Nope, not at all.
Bruce knew, the young lad just isn't ready.
On the internet, there is a suggestion about adopting or buying pets as therapy for the child instead of the tradition one-on-one discourse with a trained therapist. It works. But… a pet this soon? Right after the recent adoption of Dick?
Alfred isn't amused with the idea.
"If you're adopting a pet for young master Dick, won't your attention be divided?"
Bruce nodded slowly.
As expected of Alfred, he knows what's for the best.
"If you don't mind, Master Bruce, I suggest a plush toy for the young master."
"Plush toy?"
"Yes sir, remember your best friend master Griffin?"
Ah, Griffin…
The cute little ragged plush toy Alfred bought as a present for a young Bruce Wayne, when times were hard, Griffin is always there to comfort him.
"Thank you, Alfred."
"My pleasure, master Bruce."
That night, the master of the house sneaked up into the attic. It wasn't dusty, probably Alfred taking the time to clean the place, and filled with all the memoirs of his past from childhood to adulthood. Sitting on the clean window ledge is a small elephant toy.
Its fur is a shade of faded blue and sewed on patches of cloth.
Beside the toy is another, a wooden nutcracker.
VII
Ace's favourite toy is a chewy donut with blue sauce and colourful sprinkles.
He loves how squeaky it is and how perfect it fits in his jaw.
It wasn't too small or too big.
And it's squeaky and chewy.
VIII – Bonus
There are many plush toys in the Wayne Manor.
When the children were small, Alfred fondly remembers that he speaks with their toys as he would to them.
Bruce was of no difference.
He recalled a time when the young master had requested another cup of chocolate milk for his young plush toy friend.
The plushies decorated the wooden basket.
They spotted dark patches and signs of colour fading.
"If you'll pardon me, young masters, it's time for a bathe."
Alfred carried off the basket and into an open air field at the back of the manor. A tub of detergent soaked water and a wash board in it. A string stretched and tied onto two iron poles and a few clips.
"One by one now, young masters."
He scoop up the smallest toy and gently soaked it in the tub.
Alfred, apparently, hadn't break out of his habits.