A/N: Hey, this story is still open to ideas. If you have any thoughts about what you'd like to happen for Connor and Megan's first Christmas, write a review!

This is the Bruce, Alfred, and Dick chapter. Family bonding time!

Disclaimer: If I own Young Justice, then my teacher is Superman in disguise. Nope, definitely not…

Dick waltzed back into the manor through his window. He didn't bother with stealth, knowing that Bruce would be aware of his return the moment he set foot on the grounds. He then exchanged his sweater and jacket for a t-shirt and headed downstairs.

"Ah, Master Dick! You missed breakfast, young man."

Dick smiled benevolently at his grandfather figure. "Sorry, Alf. I had something to take care of. What's to eat?"

Alfred chuckled a little. The boy nearly always seemed to have food on his mind.

"Chocolate chip pancakes, sir."

Dick's eyes almost grew to the size of said pancakes. "Chocolate chips? Since when am I allowed to have junk food in this house?"

"Since Christmas, sir. Now eat before I change my mind."

He didn't have to be told twice. Dick all but sprinted towards the kitchen to find Bruce at the table reading the newspaper.

"Good morning, Dick."

"Morning, Bruce," he returned, and then averted his eyes. "Sorry about running off earlier," He said in a quiet voice that made him seem eight years old again.

Bruce's heart melted immediately. "It was something you had to do. You didn't get hurt and no one blames you."

They stood regarding each other until the silence went from comforting to just awkward.

"So," Bruce started, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." Dick started digging into his pancakes, and the proverbial light bulb clicked on. "Say, can I head to the mountain later today? Kaldur, M'gann, and Connor already said they'd be there and I want to wish them a Merry Christmas…or a happy whatever holiday Atlanteans and Martians celebrate."

"Sure. I have to head to a meeting later today as well."

"They have meetings on Christmas?"

"The business world stops for no man, Dick. You'll learn that when you get older."

Dick suppressed a groan. He hated it when Bruce tried to teach him about the global economy, finance, the professional world, and all the other stuff kids his age shouldn't have to care about.

„Nu-mi pasa!" (I don't care!) Dick grumbled under his breath in Romanian.

"I heard and understood that!" Bruce tried to sound strict, but ended up laughing at the teenager's exasperation.

„Trebuia sǎ-l auzi." (You were supposed to hear it.)

"Hey, English at the table young man!"

„Nu mǎ poţi face!" (You can't make me!)

With that, Dick got up and ran away. Bruce turned to Alfred, who had stood off to the side, listening to their multilingual exchange with an amused smirk.

"He's expecting me to chase him, isn't he?"

"Quite, sir."

With a sigh, Bruce abandoned the newspaper and darted after the thirteen-year old.

The pursuit went on for about a minute and a half until Bruce cornered Dick at the end of a corridor and pinned him to the ground.

"Dick, you know there's only one suitable punishment for openly disobeying me and then running inside the mansion," Bruce said, an evil smirk growing on his face.

"Please, Bruce, no! Anything but that!"

"Sorry, too late!"

Bruce then commenced to tickle the boy mercilessly until they both started having trouble breathing from laughter. Once, they'd caught their breath, Dick asked, "Presents?"

Without another word, they headed over to the humungous evergreen in the living room. Dick ran at full speed to rip open one of the biggest boxes, which left Bruce wondering, Where does this kid get so much energy in the morning?

A/N: I used Google Translate for the Romanian. Please inform me if I made any mistakes.

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