There's Something For Everyone at the Public Library: All We Want For Christmas Is You, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl
Part 3 (rough draft)
After lunch, the boys made a gingerbread house, which they'd meant to do the night before but hadn't gotten the chance to due to Tim's anxiety. The little boy was more relaxed now, carefully making a fence out of tiny candy canes as Dick glopped way too much frosting in an attempt to repair the house's uneven seams, and Jason fussed over the decorations. The project ended with the older boys getting into a fight and Tim hiding under the table as they were scolded and Jason consequently lost it.
"...and of all the things you would hit your brother for-"
"HE'S NOT MY FUCKIN' BROTHER YOU'RE NOT MY FUCKIN' DAD YOU'RE JUS' SOME CREEP WHO TAKES HOME KIDS WHO LOOK LIKE YOU AND REPLACES 'EM WHEN THEY START GETTIN' TOO OLD-"
"Jason, calm down-"
"OR WHAT?! WHATCHA GONNA DO TA ME, OLD MAN?!"
"Don't throw that, you nearly hit-!"
"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AN' YER FANCY HOUSE AN' YER FUCKIN' SWEAR JAR AN' YER FUCKIN' CHRISTMAS SHIT ALL OVER TH' FUCKIN' HOUSE LIKE YA GOT MONEY TA BURN YA FUCKIN'-!"
"Go to your room, Jason!"
"MAKE ME!"
Bruce took one step and Jason's expression instantly shifted from rage to fear. He dashed upstairs and slammed the door of his room. Bruce, feeling frustrated and helpless, glanced at Dick without thinking, and the boy, face pale, rushed upstairs to his own room as if he thought Bruce might do to him whatever Jason had been afraid of. Bruce covered his face with his hand and rubbed at his eyes, not daring to look around for Tim (who was now curled in a tight ball under the table with his hands pressed over his ears, willing it all to be over).
After a few minutes, Bruce went up and very cautiously knocked on the door of Dick's room. The boy was curled up in the chair by the window, hugging Zitka tightly as he gazed outside.
"Hey, chum," Bruce said softly, sitting down nearby but not too close.
"I shouldn't have made fun of him," Dick muttered. "I didn't mean to make him mad, I was just...teasing." He ducked his face down against Zitka's fur. "Because he's better at decorating than me," he added in a mumble, "and Tim likes him better, and you like him better, he was right, I'm getting too old...!"
"Dickie, why would you even think that?" Bruce asked in bewilderment, tugging his son into his arms and letting Dick sob into his shoulder. "There are plenty of things you're better at than Jason is, and I love both of you, neither one more than the other. Jason might have better intuition when it comes to Tim because neither of them had loving parents like you did, but that doesn't mean they like each other better than you. Everyone in this house cares about you, Dickie. ...Come on, chum, look at me."
"I'm not cute anymore," Dick wailed. "That's why you keep finding little ones to replace me!"
"Dick...that is not true, no one could ever replace you, Richard..." He continued to murmur reassurance until the boy finally sniffed and leaned back. "I'm sorry, Dick," Bruce said earnestly. "I depend on you so much now, and you're...so well-behaved, I must have started taking you for granted. I appreciate you so much, chum. I'm sorry I stopped making the effort to let you know how special you are to me."
"I keep messing up with Timmy," Dick mumbled.
"You are doing a wonderful job with Tim, it is not your fault that other people trained him to be fearful and high-strung. Once he's older and stronger, he'll be glad of how affectionate and attentive you are with him."
Dick smiled a little. "You really are gonna adopt him?"
"I'd be surprised if they didn't let me. If it all works out, I'll be depending on you to teach Tim what love looks like, Dick, all right? Just be patient, and he'll start responding more appropriately."
"Yeah."
Bruce kissed the top of his head and Dick sort of nuzzled into him. When Bruce finally stood up, he looked at the doorway and sighed.
Dick grinned. "Now you have to go talk to Jason."
"He's so angry at me," Bruce lamented, letting a little whine creep into his voice.
"He's not mad, Bruce, he's scared. He's mad at himself for messing up, and blaming you so it won't be his fault and he won't get whipped like his dad used to do when he got in trouble."
Bruce had known all this on a half-conscious level, but hearing Dick say it out loud put it in perspective. "Why are you so smart?"
"Because I'm special and you love me best," Dick preened playfully.
"Will you go downstairs and check on Tim?"
"Yup." Dick hopped to his feet and they parted in the hall, Dick heading for the stairs and Bruce for his other son's room.
Jason was sitting at his desk, writing in a notebook. The boy immediately stood up and pushed a folded paper at Bruce that turned out to have money tucked inside.
"That's for the swear jar," Jason said roughly, already retreating to the window. "I don't remember exactly how many times I cussed, but it's enough, okay? There's like four dollars in there."
Bruce wordlessly set the packet aside without opening it and continued on. Jason's sulky demeanor suddenly dropped. "I don't want to be touched right now!" He yelled, standing up on a chair. "Safe zone, I need a safe zone! I'm in my safe zone right now!"
Bruce held out his hands placatingly. "All right, Jason, all right. I'm just sitting down here on the bed. Okay? I won't come over there."
Jason regarded him.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Jay," Bruce said softly.
"I know."
It was quiet a moment. "Jason, do you know why we need to talk?"
Jason sighed deeply and sank down on the seat. "I screwed up again."
"As far as the swear jar is concerned, I'll give you a Christmas discount - just a dollar for the whole thing, you can take back the rest. But, Jason..."
The boy fidgeted, picking at a loose thread.
"It was dangerous when you threw that box, and it was unacceptable to hit your brother. I haven't decided yet what the consequences for that will be, but there will be some." He managed not to wince when the seam gave and Jason ripped an entire hole in his pajama pants. "...Jay. It's okay. Just apologize to Dick and next time-"
"I didn't mean to hit him!" Jason burst out, still staring at the floor. With all the frustration in his voice, it didn't sound like an excuse, so Bruce waited.
"He didn't- He didn't do anything wrong, it's just, he was messing it up and not listening to me and I was so mad, and I wouldn't've hit 'im I just, my body just did it and I didn't know, I didn't want-" There were tears in Jason's voice now. "Why is he such a-?! Such a jerk?! Why do I tell myself I'm not going to do things and then do them anyway?! It SUCKS!"
Bruce hesitated, then slid to his knees on the floor to get as small and nonthreatening as possible. "Jason, may I please hug you?"
"No!" Jason yelled, but then dissolved into sobs. After a minute, he sort of crept toward Bruce from the side and gingerly curled into him, sobbing into his father's shoulder. Bruce just as carefully rested an arm around him and squeezed a little. "I hate myself," Jason wailed.
Alarmed, Bruce folded himself around his son and hugged him more firmly. "Jay, you have come so far in the past few years and I am so proud of you."
Jason cried harder, and twitched as if he was torn between jerking away and burrowing deeper into the hug.
"I love you so much, Jason. You're such an incredible person and I am so proud to be your father."
"I keep messing up...no matter how much I try, I keep messing up..."
"Everyone messes up, Jason. It's so important that you do keep trying." He waited a moment, then asked, "Why do we fall, son?"
Jason sniffled and recited, "So we learn how to pick ourselves up." He slowly sat up and swiped an arm under his nose. "I'm such a baby," he muttered in self-disgust.
"That's right." Jason's eyes widened, but before he could take offense, Bruce stood up, sweeping the boy into his arms and cuddling him. "You're my baby, my darling boy."
"Dad!" Jason cried, squirming.
"I am so proud of my marvelous child and shall brag about him to all the world-"
"Daaaaad!" Jason whined, half-laughing.
"-and all the other mothers shall be positively green with envy that my brilliant baby boy is far superior to all their dull little offspring-"
"Are you quoting something?!" [*No, it is not a quote, I made it up. I have to specify that on FFN because FFN is stupid and I hate this sucky site. You guys should be reading all my stories on AO3, which is infinitely better.]
Bruce finally relented and set Jason on his feet. The boy threw a few mock-punches and then looked down, shuffling his feet and still grinning a bit.
Bruce set a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed. "Jay. I'm here for you, okay?"
"Yeah."
"If you're ready to go back downstairs, you need to apologize to Dick."
"Okay," Jason mumbled.
In the living room, Dick and Tim were huddled together on the couch, talking quietly as they watched a lava lamp that had been one of Dick's gifts. When Jason came into sight, the other boys stood up, Tim backing away nervously.
Jason came to a stop in front of his older brother, slouching as he fidgeted and scowled at the floor.
"Jason has something to say to you, Dick," Bruce prompted.
Dick looked expectant and a little hopeful as his younger brother scowled harder and visibly struggled. Jason finally looked up and shouted, "Screw you, Dickhead! I hate you!"
Bruce pressed both hands over his face in exasperation.
Dick looked disappointed for a second, then neutral. He embraced his brother slowly enough to give Jason time to rebuff him, though the other boy didn't move. "I forgive you, Jay," Dick murmured, squeezing just enough to be comfortable.
Jason burst into fresh tears and cried in Dick's arms for a while before finally wailing, "I'm sorry, Dick! I'm sorry...I don't know- I don't know...!"
Dick squeezed a little tighter as he brightened. "'S okay, Jaybird. I still love you."
"That's because you're a needy doormat!" Jason sobbed, barely intelligible.
"I don't know what you just said, but I'll take it as a compliment."
"It's noooot!"
Dick simply shifted his grip and started rocking a little, as if his little brother was a baby rather than almost as big as he was.
"Nnnnnnngggghhh, I'm so mad!"
"You wanna play basketball?"
"Yeah."
Dick turned back. "You wanna play, Timmy?"
Everyone stared, finally noticing that the little boy was backed up all the way against the far wall. "Oh - no, thank you," Tim said, incredibly politely.
He ended up sitting on the porch and watching as Bruce and even Alfred played with the older boys. By the time they all came inside, sweating and glowing with satisfaction, Jason had fully calmed down and Tim seemed to have marginally relaxed, though Bruce noticed that the smallest boy always kept someone between himself and Jason.
"Wateeeerrr!" Dick crowed, flying to the sink and slurping straight from the tap.
"Really, Richard," Alfred said in exasperation, pulling glasses down from the cabinets.
"I'm hungry," Jason said, rifling through the refrigerator.
"Bottomless pit," Bruce laughed, even as he helped spread out sandwich ingredients on the counter.
Although Alfred declined, the rest of the family had a second lunch, the older boys chattering enthusiastically enough to make up for their contently taciturn companions. Trouble started brewing again when Dick brought out what was left of the Christmas cookies and started passing the container around.
"You want some?" Jason asked, getting up to offer the cookies to Tim when Bruce declined a share.
Tim flinched when Jason approached him. His expression and tone were very carefully polite when he said, "N-no, thank you, that's all right."
The color drained out of Jason's face when he realized that the smaller boy was afraid of him. His jaw clenched in the way that meant he was about to lose it, and Bruce, Alfred, and Dick all surged forward in alarm. They paused when Jason stepped away from Tim instead. Jason very carefully set the plate down on the table, then stalked to the back door, which he wrenched open. He ran into the backyard and started kicking a tree as he yelled.
Bruce sighed and followed him. "He hates me!" Jason burst out when he saw his father coming. "He thinks I'm going to hit him! Dammit! DANG it, that doesn't freaking count! FRICK! Frick me," he stormed, kicking the tree again.
"Jason. Look at me. Jason, listen, I am very proud of you for coming out here when you were upset instead of taking it out on Tim. You did the right thing, chum. You hear me? You did well." For the second time that day, he held Jason as the boy cried.
"What do I do?" Jason sobbed. "If I were him, I'd think I was gonna hit me, too."
Bruce hesitated. "Jay, you remember how long it took you to believe that I would never hit you, no matter what?"
Jason went quiet and subdued.
"You just have to be patient, Jay," Bruce said gently. "Tim will come around. In the meantime, just be patient and do your best. Don't try to rush Tim, and eventually, you will earn his trust."
"Why is this so freaking hard...?"
When they came back in, Bruce, with Jason sullenly following, looked from Dick's concerned, helpless expression to Tim's apprehension. "Well, I've made all three of the kids in my house cry on Christmas. I don't think I want to know my parenting score."
"It's A+," Dick assured him immediately. "The bad feelings go away when you cry them out, and then things are better!"
"Crying sucks, and my face hurts," Jason complained.
"It's not your fault," Tim said anxiously, "I promise I won't cry again, I was just, just so overwhelmed by your kindness and generosity-" He broke off and stared, wide-eyed, as Dick gently clapped his face between both hands.
"Timmy, you sound like you're reading a speech off of notecards."
"I don't know how I'm supposed to talk," Tim said blankly, a little muffled because of his squished cheeks.
"I-" Jason started, then blushed, looked away from Tim, and addressed the wall, flowing between accents to emphasize his point. "'Member when I first came here, Dad? Talked like gutter trash; but you listen to enough educated people and watch enough period dramas and such things, you'll start speaking in kind."
"Oohh! Do that Uncle Alfred voice again!" Dick exclaimed in delight.
Jason grinned and said in his passable British accent, "If you youngsters are quite finished with your culinary experiments, perhaps you might tidy up the kitchen before you find other employment."
"Spot ON, Jay!"
Bruce cleared his throat. "You're amazing, Jaybird!" he chirped in such an accurate mimicry of Dick's voice that the boys shrieked in amazement and Tim stared at him admiringly.
TBC?
A/N: The next bit wasn't working, and as far as I know, that's all there is to write before the sequel / time skip, and I just...I'm tired, I'm gonna just post it now and fix whatever needs fixing later. X'''D
Since I already wrote all of the original plot bunny for this idea, even though it doesn't have a proper ending, I'm gonna consider it temporarily/tentatively complete for now and return to other projects, particularly The Birds Who Smile.