There's Something For Everyone at the Public Library: All We Want For Christmas Is You, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Part 2 (rough draft)

A/N: NEVER MIND, this is going to be longer than two parts. X'''''''D I don't know exactly how long yet, because Jason's tantrum and the aftermath is at least an entire chapter by itself, and now the sequel has been bugging me to just be a part of this story instead, so I don't knooooww...

o.o.o

As usual, Jason was the one most excited for Christmas morning. He ran around the house hollering for everyone to get up. When Bruce and Alfred came yawning down the stairs, they found the other boys in the kitchen, Tim teaching Dick how to make pancakes and Dick teaching Tim how to make oatmeal. "And we'll sprinkle peppermint into it so it'll be Christmas oatmeal!"

"Smells good," Bruce commented, leaning over them to look at their handiwork. Tim flinched at first but then looked up hopefully. "Though you boys need to tell an adult first before you use the stove. Who taught you how to make pancakes, Tim?"

Expecting it to have been a cook or a nanny or something, he was nonplussed when Tim answered happily, "Carina on YouTube. The cooking shows on TV go too fast and they don't tell you the measurements! I like the Internet ones better. I wrote it down and practiced."

"I...I see."

"Why are you all cooking when there's PRESENTS?!" Jason screeched from the entryway. "Presents now, eat later!"

"Christmas is the only thing Jason likes better than food," Dick confided in Tim. Then, in a whisper, "It's 'cause he hasn't had any good ones since he was a baby. He was so surprised his first Christmas here, and then he got mad, and then he cried, and ever since then Christmas is his Favorite Thing Ever."

Jason, going out of his mind with impatience, had already sorted all the gifts by recipient and turned on all the indoor festive lights that weren't already on and set up a music playlist in the background by the time his family ambled in for gift-opening. "FINALLY. I'm starting because you all are SLOW!"

As Alfred recorded and Bruce watched (he always enjoyed seeing people opening his gifts to them just as much as the other way around), Jason tore into his presents and Dick happily began unwrapping his as well. Bruce's eyes moved to the youngest child, and then he realized that Tim was just sitting there, on the floor almost in a corner, hugging his knees and smiling a little as he watched the other boys opening their gifts.

"Tim," Bruce said, shifting to the edge of the couch so he could reach the little boy's gift pile, "why don't you come over here and open yours?"

The smile dropped off of Tim's face, and he stared at Bruce. "My- What?"

"These are yours, Tim."

The child looked completely shocked. He didn't seem to even believe Bruce until he finally crept closer and saw his name on the tags. Dick, sensing that something wasn't quite right, paused and watched Tim in concern; a minute later, Jason caught on as well.

"Wh- Why-?! Why are there presents for me?!"

Bruce's heart kind of hurt. "Santa Claus is pretty smart, he knew you'd be here this Christmas instead of at your own house. And of course we knew you were coming, so we got you a few things, too-"

Tim stood up abruptly, looking almost sick. Bruce, flashbacking to his first Christmas with Jason when his new son had reacted badly to unaccustomed generosity, wondered if he'd repeated the mistake. He hadn't thought that Tim, who came from a wealthy background, would be bothered by too many gifts the way Jason had, but obviously he'd miscalculated.

"But I- I'm not-" Then Tim's eyes widened in further horror as he realized something. "I d-didn't get anything for a-any of you!"

"Tim, it's all right. Please, don't worry about it, none of us were expecting you to give us anything. We just got a little bit excited about you being here for the holidays, that's all."

Dick hurried across the room to hug the little boy. "It's okay, Timmy! Bruce always buys too much, anyway; he has a whole bank account he puts money into all year JUST for Christmas presents. You don't have to open all of them, just open mine and Jay's, okay? And Uncle Alfred's, and just, like, one from Bruce. Just one, okay? It's okay, Timmy."

By this time, a concerned-looking Jason had come over as well, and the older boys hovered as Tim shakily reached for the closest present with his name on it. He opened it slowly, careful not to tear the wrapping paper even after Alfred assured him that they weren't going to reuse it.

Tim stared at what was inside. Dick finally pulled out the toy and presented it. "Isn't he cute? It's from Bruce, but me and Jay picked it out. He's soft and snuggly and made us think of you! ...Do you like it?"

"Stuffed animals are for babies," Tim said blankly.

"Bullcrap," Jason said. "Dick's got a stuffed animal, freaking Dad has a stuffed animal, more than one. No one's going to make fun of you."

"But- I can't- It's not allowed. I'm too big for teddies, they go in the trash."

Dick leaped up and ran upstairs. "Tim," Bruce said firmly, "I don't know what things were like in Bristol, but here in this house, you can have stuffed animals no matter how old you are. It is allowed. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Tim whispered, clearly not convinced.

Dick came galloping back. "Look!" he insisted, waving an elephant in one hand and a bat in the other. "This is Zitka, and this is Batman! Zitka was my friend back home and Bruce rescued her from jail after Mom and Dad died, and Batman was Bruce's when he was little! He still lives in Bruce's room even though Bruce is really old! You're only six, your teddy can definitely be your friend, too!" He pushed Batman into Bruce's chest and then hugged Zitka defiantly.

Bruce chuckled in fond memory, turning over the stuffed bat in his hands. "I was so upset when my father first gave me this... I was afraid of bats when I was a child, and Father had some notion that giving me a bat toy would desensitize me and help me get over the phobia. I hated it, though, and didn't want the toy anywhere near me. Then my parents died...

"A few months later, I happened to come across Batman in the attic, and...it was different, somehow. When I started keeping him in my room, it felt like he was watching over me every night, keeping me safe." He set the toy down, resting his arm across it, and looked at Tim. "I am thirty years old - 'really old,' according to Dick - and would never let anyone tell me I can't have Batman anymore. I might not need him anymore, but he was an important part of my life and holds a lot of memories. He does not belong in the trash, and neither do any of your toys."

Tim looked back down at the teddy bear in the box. After a while, Jason finally picked it up and pushed it into Tim's arms. "I don't like stuffed animals anymore, but I know other kids like 'em, and that's fine. It's okay to let other people be nice to you, Timmy. Well, it's okay to let us be nice, 'cause no one here's gonna hurtcha."

Tim finally hugged the bear and hid his face in it. Since he wouldn't move after that, the other boys finally went back to opening the rest of their gifts.

"Dad, I don't even have room on my shelves for all these books!" Jason shrieked, half-laughing as he brandished yet another boxed set.

"You get angry at me when I give you too many toys," Bruce said defensively. "Books are the only thing I haven't found your limit for yet."

"You're taking advantage of me!"

"It's how he says 'I love you,'" Dick explained absently, smiling a little at the sight of a new pair of inline skates in the box he'd just opened.

While that was going on, Alfred handed the camera to Bruce and spoke gently to Tim, who'd finally looked up but seemed a bit dazed and had made no move to let go of the bear or reach for his other presents. "Timothy, if you are uncomfortable opening the rest of your gifts now, perhaps you would like to do so later, in private?"

"Yes, please," Tim said gratefully, squeezing the bear tighter. "Thank you very much, sir."

"That's quite all right. Also, you may call me by my name as the other boys do."

"Y-yes, Mr. Alfred..."

"What's your bear's name, Tim?" Dick called over.

"I..."

"Don't put him on the spot," Bruce scolded mildly. Then he noticed Tim's expression. "Unless you already have a name in mind, Tim?"

"I don't know if it's a good name..."

Jason looked him dead in the eye. "Tim. Dad's stuffed bat is named Batman. Bar's set pretty low."

Tim shifted uncomfortably. "Would you like to name the bear, Jason?"

"No! He's your bear!"

"Or she," Dick put in. "Is it a girl or a boy?"

Tim gently ran his fingertips over the toy's face. "He's a smart bear, like Sherlock Holmes," he said softly, not looking at anyone.

"Sherlock? Is your bear's name Sherlock?"

"Yeah," came the shy whisper. "I mean, yes."

Bruce and Alfred insisted on getting photos of Tim and Sherlock the bear, both with and without Dick and Jason. Tim seemed to have brightened a bit by that time, but he still made no move to do anything other than sit at Bruce's feet and contentedly hug Sherlock as he watched the other boys continue to open and then play with their gifts. Dick eventually coaxed him into trying out his new remote control car, which Tim enjoyed (Jason had received one as well, and of course Tim's was still hidden under its festive wrapping).

Everyone worked together to help Alfred prepare a late lunch. When Bruce noticed that Tim had been gone 'to the bathroom' for an awfully long time, the boys went to investigate, and were delighted to find the smaller child opening the rest of his gifts at last. Tim had pulled them all behind the couch and was opening them in his little den like a wild animal hiding precious food. He didn't notice the older boys pressing their hands over their mouths to stifle their own reactions, or Bruce leaning over to soundlessly snap a few photos.

Alfred soon herded everyone back to the kitchen, and by the time Tim came in a last, looking dazed and happy, the family was pretending to be wholly absorbed in setting the table.

"You were pooping a long time. You sick?" Jason asked casually, prompting Dick to duck into the pantry to hide his mirth.

"Oh - no, I'm fine," Tim said, blushing. "I was...I got lost."

"Find anything interesting while you were looking for the toilet?"

"Jason, stop," Bruce said firmly, setting a hand on the boy's head. "Dick, Tim, come sit down, the food is ready."

TBC

A/N: *feels like I'm going crazy* I had a tough week at work, but next week my schedule should go back to normal. One of the up-sides to the weird week was that I was able to bring my tablet to work, so I typed a lot of the next chapter of this and also yet another alternate ending for The Birds Who Smile. (Speaking of which, I still haven't made any progress on the next story arc yet, I think my TBWS muse needs to finish editing first before it'll let me move on.)