Title: 200 or so Steps Back
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world. Also, conspiracy theories. Mild(ish) violence.
Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Jason Todd
Summary: Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like write a letter Santa. Things sort of spiral from there.
Note: This was inspired by the amazing I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus by pupeez4eva. That story is tiers above this – go read it. You have to. It's marvelous.
Also, I'm aware that, canonically, Damian has probably been educated about holidays and traditions around the world – Ra's and Talia would allow nothing less – but exaggerating Damian's lack of awareness is comedy gold.
Damian heaved a sigh, crossing his arms and sneering at Grayson disdainfully.
Grayson ignored him.
He clapped his hands together and grinned, looking around at all of them. "All right, team-"
"Is this a mission?" Drake asked, arching an eyebrow, but not looking away from his cell phone.
"I feel like Christmas shopping really shouldn't be done in a 'team'. It would ruin the surprise factor," Brown said, smiling when Cain nodded along with her.
"What surprise? You do realize that no one is ever surprised when they get a gift in this family, right? It's always, 'I could tell by the weight and the shape of the package and the fact that you were the one who got it for me and you were in the room when I mentioned it that this is exactly what I wanted.'"
Drake looked up from his phone for the sole purpose of questioning Todd's sanity. (A noble goal.) "What did you just say?" Drake asked, partly amused, mostly incredulous.
Todd snorted. "We're detectives. Surprises don't exist for us."
"And the reason you refused concision the first time around, Todd?"
"Shut it, brat."
"Seriously?" Grayson interrupted. "We're at the mall to shop for Christmas gifts and you guys are arguing? No Christmas spirit! Shame on all of you!"
Damian snorted and rolled his eyes. What was the point of "Christmas spirit" when the entire holiday was just a ruse to disguise the malevolent intentions of one of the most clever and psychotic criminals in history?
"All right," Grayson said, clapping his hands again. "We're all going to split up, buy gifts, and then meet back here in 3 hours?"
"I don't need that long," Drake protested. "I ordered most of my stuff online."
"Who needs 3 hours to shop for presents?" Todd groused.
"1 hour then?" Brown proposed.
"I need more time than that!" Grayson objected, throwing his hands in the air unnecessarily.
"2," Cain said. "That's enough."
Grayson sighed, shaking his head. "Organizing patrol isn't as hard as this," he muttered. "2 sounds good. You gonna' be all right on your own, Dami?"
Drake snickered under his breath; Damian shot him a glare.
"I'm more than capable of buying gifts in a shopping mall, Grayson."
"Yeah, but-"
"He's not gonna' shoplift, he's too mean to talk to strangers, and anyone who tries to kidnap him will either end up hospitalized due to excessive injuries or mental trauma. Demonbrat'll be fine, Dick. Let's just get this over with," Todd grumbled, slinging an arm around Grayson's shoulders and smirking at Damian's scowl.
"Those… are all good points. All right, call if you need anything-"
"Freaking mother hen," Todd said.
"It's cute," Cain offered before slipping away with a wave.
"I'd say we should synchronize our watches, but we've already done that," Brown joked, jogging after Cain. "See you in two hours. Don't cause any chaos unless you get it on video!"
"Pairing up ruins the entire point of buying gifts separately," Drake sighed before shooting a look at Damian. "Which way are you going? I want to make sure to be on the opposite end of the mall."
"Like that would save you, Drake," Damian sneered, stomping off to the nearest escalator.
"Be safe!" Grayson called.
Damian rolled his eyes again and stepped onto the escalator. He froze as soon as he arrived at the second floor.
There, a mere 40 meters away, was the most dangerous man on the planet.
"Claus," Damian growled.
How dare he? Was he here to mock him? Rub it in his face that he had his entire family bent to his will? Claus didn't even care that he was revealing himself – and why would he? The masses were surrounding him: children cheering at his presence, parents facilitating their kids' devotion.
Damian gritted his teeth and stalked forward, determined to confront Santa Claus regardless of the consequences – only to be stopped when a woman stepped in front of him. A woman in striped tights, a ridiculous dress, and curved shoes with bells.
(What?)
Damian stared at her blankly. The smile she gave him was nauseating. The way she crouched down to speak to him… that just made him angry.
"Hey there, little guy," she said, voice saccharine, smile – somehow – growing.
Damian's whole body twitched.
"Are you here to see Santa?
He forced himself to remain calm, clenching his fists and straightening his back. "I am," he forced out.
"Is anyone here with you?"
"They're shopping; they know where I am," he lied. If they knew where he was, they would undoubtedly force him away - a defense mechanism implanted by Claus. Unless, of course, the whole purpose of Claus' presence here was to enable the two of them to speak in person.
"All right, then. Why don't you get in line? Then you can sit on Santa's lap and tell him all about what you want for Christmas!"
Damian felt a little sick. He pushed the feeling down and looked past the woman at the line in front of them. 2 hour wait time at this point. He wanted to smash that sign.
He narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. Fine. If that was how Claus wanted to play it, he would wait. He would wait, and then, Claus would realize the error he had made in standing against him – mocking him with this cavalier display – and manipulating his family.
"That sounds perfect," Damian said quietly, grinning at the woman.
(Claus won't know what hit him.)
Jason snickered at the boxes Tim was carrying. "Pre-wrapped? Sucker."
The look on his little brother's face was far from impressed, but why would Jason want to impress a guy who had his presents professionally wrapped?
"That is kind of a travesty of Christmas, Timmy," Dick said, grinning slightly.
Tim huffed. "You don't get to talk when you waited a week before Christmas to even start shopping," he said, gesturing to the bags in Dick's hands.
Jason cocked his head considering. There really were a lot.
"That's the fun of Christmas, Tim! Gifts are always better when you buy them at the last minute!"
"Or, you're just a disorganized procrastinator."
Dick's grin only grew. "Don't knock it till you've tried it."
Tim's expression went bland. "I've tried it."
Jason and Dick exchanged a look before turning back to Tim.
"Why does that sound less like 'I procrastinated on buying gifts and it went horribly' and more like 'I procrastinated at life and wound up in a downward spiral of despair that I've yet to escape from'?" Dick asked, lips quirked in a mix of amused pleasure and worried dread that only Tim was capable causing.
Tim shifted his gifts more securely in his hold and took a long sip of his coffee – because of course he'd stopped for coffee – purposefully maintaining eye contact.
(Isn't Dick supposed to be the dramatic one?)
"Hey!"
Jason gave a careless wave as Steph and Cass approached them. "Something is wrong with Tim."
"Bit slow on the uptake, Jace," Steph said, grinning.
Jason smirked. "I'm slow?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Am I the only one that remembers what happened on April Fool's Day?"
Tim smirked. "No, I remember."
Steph threw her head back with a groan. "Oh my gosh! Can we let that go? Let's make fun of Dick's horrible fashion sense instead."
"It is pretty bad," Tim agreed.
"Hey!" Dick cried.
They ignored him.
Jason scoffed. "You think it was bad? I had to live through that. Firsthand experience."
"I was there too, you know? I think that is the true source of my trauma."
"It was awful," Steph commiserated.
"Excuse you! All of you!" If Dick's hands had been free, he probably would have thrown them in the air. This was really agitating him. Jason had to remember to bring this up more often. "I have the best fashion sense out of anyone in this family!"
"Lie."
"You're lying."
"Liar."
"Where's Damian?"
All four of them turned to Cass, and Jason could practically feel the tension rush into Dick.
"Hey," Jason began, trying to head off Dick's panic before it began. Pointless, but Tim was just standing there rolling his eyes, and Steph was just shrugging. (They're no help. This should not be my responsibility.) "I'm sure the brat's fine."
"Jason's right – for once. He's probably just picking out gifts still; you know Demon gets… perfectionistic."
Steph joined in on the same vein, and even Cass looked unconcerned, if curious, but Jason was starting to wonder if maybe Dick wasn't right to be worried. Or, not worried for the reasons Dick was worried – Damian jumped across rooftops and kicked 250-pound men in the face on a nightly basis; there was no reason to worry about his safety in a shopping mall – but for other, much more rational reasons.
He'd just told Dick that everything was fine, but that was before he'd caught sight of two kids pulling their – obviously – harried mother in the direction of the escalator, both of their mouths forming the word "Santa" over and over again.
They were in the mall.
It was the holiday season.
There were decorations everywhere.
And, up the escalator, some poor sap was being forced to dress in a beard and red suit and ask children what they wanted for Christmas.
Jason pulled his thoughts together and broke out into a wide, likely less than sane, grin.
(This is the best day of my life!)
"Uh…" Dick's concerned voice brought him back to reality. "Little Wing? You okay?"
"'Okay'? Dick, I'm perfect. Beyond perfect. There's no need to be worried – well, you might want to worry, but I'm not going to. Because this is a gift."
"I should have booked you a therapy appointment for Christmas," Tim said, staring at him dubiously.
Jason rolled his eyes. "Do you know what today is?"
"The 18th," Cass offered.
"International Migrants' Day," Steph said, grinning.
"Does migrating back to the land of the living actually count?" Tim muttered idly.
"Jerk," Jason responded.
"How do you know that?" Dick asked, eyebrows furrowed.
"My calendar is really informative."
"Okay. Will you all shut up?"
"Only because you asked, Jason," Tim drawled.
"You're going to apologize for giving me so much attitude when I tell you that Santa is on the 2nd floor fueling the capitalist spirit and making children's dreams come true," Jason said with a smirk, pointing the escalator.
It didn't matter that the space around them was bustling with activity – you could have heard a pin drop.
Tim's expression was solemn. "I love you and I will never doubt you again."
Jason completely believed him.
"Is this a drill?" Steph asked, eyes sparkling, voice lowered to a whisper.
"No. No it isn't."
"Dick is hyperventilating."
"Way to ruin the moment, Cass."
"Dick's fault."
"Agreed." Jason walked over to his older brother, who looked less like he was hyperventilating and more like he'd forgotten how to breath entirely. He swung an arm around his shoulder and started walking, the rest of them following behind him – though Steph looked like she was dying to run ahead. "Why don't we go see if Babybat's broken the no kill rule."
Dick let out a strangled sound; it was painful to witness. "You're all going to hell."
"No arguments here."
"Sounds like a nice break," Tim added.
"Is that- do you hear screaming?" Steph asked urgently.
They all paused.
"AHHHHHHHH! GET HIM OFF ME! GET HIM OFF! AHHHHHHHH!"
All five of them broke into a run, pushing their way past everyone on the escalator, but coming up short once they finally reached the second floor.
And how else could they react to the sight of their youngest brother choking "Santa Claus" by his fake beard?
Jason was the first to regain movement, startling into action and pulling his phone out. This needed to be recorded. Priorities.
(And Damian continues to earn his place as my favorite sibling. Maybe even favorite family member at this point. Sorry, Alfred.)
He pushed through the panicking crowd to get closer to the scene, grinning once he reached a good vantage point.
"Now, Imposter," Damian spat, one hand pulling at the fake beard and another fisting into the collar of the man's coat. "Why don't you tell me where the real Santa Claus is? Huh? ANSWER ME!"
Jason stifled his laughter in an attempt to keep the camera steady.
"I- I don't know what you're talking about Please, just-"
"STOP LYING! If he trusts you enough to send you to confront me in a fake suit, you're obviously close enough to know the truth! And don't think I'll fall for any lies!"
"I swear I don't-"
"SHUT UP! The next words out of your mouth had better be the truth or I'LL BEAT IT OUT OF YOU!"
There was a moment of unintelligible mumbling, during which, Jason caught sight of Cass and Steph trying not to laugh while talking down the security guards.
"SANTA CLAUS ISN'T REAL, ALL RIGHT!"
Silence fell abruptly.
(Is this karma for persistently helping save the world? I deserve this. This is my reward.)
The overwhelming cries from every child in the area were startling, but not unexpected.
Tim sidled up to him. "You're going to send this to me, right? Everyone I know needs to see this."
"Dude, I will send this to all the Titans myself if you want. I'll even send this to Clark!"
"Thank you," Tim breathed.
"LIAR! YOU'RE JUST TRING TO SAVE YOUR OWN SKIN, YOU FILTHY CRETIN! TELL ME WHERE CLAUS IS! NOW!"
"He's completely feral!" Tim sounded ecstatic.
Jason couldn't blame him.
Damian was just about to start punching, and Jason was beginning to wonder if maybe they should do something – the guy was innocent, after all. But Dick beat them to it.
Coming out of his apparent stasis, Dick rushed forward and pulled Damian off of the man before the first hit could land.
"Grayson, let me go! I know Claus has you under his control, but you have to trust me! This is for the good of mankind!"
Tim leaned into him, unable to stand on his own anymore. "This is the best day of my life."
"I know, Tim. I know."
"You guys are so lucky you're Waynes," Steph said, straining her seatbelt to lean forward.
Dick had no response. Primarily because it was true. The only reason no one had pressed charges was because they were Bruce Wayne's kids. If they hadn't been…
Honestly, Dick didn't want to think about what would have happened without Bruce's name behind them. He'd never been so grateful for preferential treatment.
(How is this my life?)
Dick sighed as they came to a red light. Time to have another talk with Damian. Another talk that would, more than likely, be completely pointless – and would do absolutely nothing to dissuade him from his opinion that Santa Claus was evil and had them all under mind control.
He had a headache. What he wouldn't give for Jason and the others to actually care about the fact that Damian was young and impressionable and Damian.
Dick sighed again.
"Damian…"
Dick looked at Damian in the rearview mirror, frowning slightly at the set of his jaw and the scowl on his face and the tension in his shoulders.
There was no way – nothing he could say – to make this better. Nothing. He wished…
He wished that the others were taking this seriously. Because Steph was grinning, and Jason and Tim had their heads bent together over Jason's phone – probably sending the video Jason had shot to every single individual in the caped community. Cass, at least, looked like she wasn't about to burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.
Not that that was good enough. He wanted guilt and actual emotional pain. Because that's what he was feeling – and he hadn't even been behind this.
(I just wanted to have a nice Christmas.)
"Damian," he started again.
And stopped again.
Because what could he say?
If he lectured Damian on beating up an innocent man, it wouldn't stick. Because Damian wouldn't beat up an innocent man. And, in his mind, he hadn't. As far as Damian was concerned, he'd attacked a criminal in an effort to gain information on a much worse criminal. So, all Damian would think was that Dick was under Santa's mind control.
And there was no way to convince Damian that Santa wasn't a criminal. He got his stubbornness from Bruce, of course. A horrible trait to pass down.
So, what could he say?
Dick sighed. Again. "Damian. Santa is not an evil criminal mastermind," he said sadly, saying it just to get it out of the way.
"No, Grayson. We're not discussing this. I won't."
Dick could feel his shoulders slumping and his headache growing.
"You should stop trying, Dick. Don't you know the definition of insanity?"
"Thank you, Tim, for your valuable contribution to this conversation. Anything else you'd like to add? Maybe you want to say that the Easter Bunny is an evil alien trying to conquer the world and also Santa's rival?"
"The Easter Bunny? Who is that?" Damian spat, leaning forward with a calculating glare.
Jason, Tim, and Steph failed spectacularly at covering up their laughter. Cass shot him a look he couldn't take the time to decipher.
"No! Damian, the Easter Bunny…"
He couldn't say it. He felt like he was destroying Damian's childhood! Or… redestroying.
"Urban legend," Cass finished.
Dick sighed in relief – sighing, sighing, sighing. He was a smiler, not a sigher! Bruce was a sigher.
(Ugh. I'm turning into my dad. Look what you did, Steph.)
Damian eyed the two of them suspiciously, but sat back in his seat in grudging but genuine acceptance. He hoped.
"You didn't buy any presents," Dick pointed out, for lack of anything else to say.
"I'll figure something out."
"Am I the only one who thought that sounded ominous?" Steph asked.
"Please," Dick cut in, before Tim or Jason could speak up. "Just… let's not talk."
"Did Dick just ask us not to talk?" Jason questioned, eyebrow cocked derisively. "Dick?"
"First time for everything," Tim said with a shrug.
Dick whimpered. Cass patted his shoulder comfortingly.
He didn't feel any less like crying.