Knux27 has, in a most amazing manner, taken the time to figure out the speed Superman would have to be traveling in order to reach Gotham City (Wayne Manor), where I have located it in Illinois (near Chicago) in my AU, from Smallville, Kansas (figuring it was in the lower west side of the state) in 90 seconds. Figuring the distance is approximately 700 miles (the sound barrier is 770 mph, btw) between cities, Knux27 tells me that Superman was traveling approximately 28,000 miles per hour. How AWESOME is that? Thank you, Knux27, for making that real!
This is the last Christmas chapter - making ten in all - and covering two days! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It will be a Christmas to remember for the Bat Clan . . .
SEVERAL POV CHANGES - all separated by a line. I don't believe it will be too hard to follow along. Some lines will denote a separation of time or action as well. But again, nothing that should be confusing.
WARNING: LANGUAGE . . . (Not a lot, but a couple of F-bombs found its way in via Jason's mouth. But give him credit; he did try!)
"Alfred!"
Alfred entered the study in response to Master Bruce's bellow. He had been expecting this moment and felt prepared. No one could have accomplished all that Miss Arabella had without an inside accomplice, after all.
"You called, sir," Alfred asked dryly with his best British stoicism.
He watched with satisfaction as the master's cheeks flushed with color. Bruce knew better than anyone when it was appropriate to use one's outside voice while inside, and non-emergencies were not it. Only the family's most trusted retainer held the power to immediately call the powerful and imposing Bruce Wayne onto the carpet with but a few words.
"Alfred," Bruce soldiered on in a more acceptable decibel. "Have you touched the security footage today?"
"Define 'touched'," he answered with considerable aplomb.
"I went downstairs to check the footage from last night, only to discover that the tapes are missing," Bruce complained. "I always replace the previous tapes with new ones if I remove them, but there were none."
Alfred allowed a small frown to appear. "Which security tapes are these," he asked. "Has there been a breach?"
"No . . . Well, yes." Bruce blew out a frustrated breath. "Maybe. Oh hell, Alfred, I don't know! Did you remove the tapes from last night?"
"No sir. Indeed, I haven't been down to the cave as yet today," he lied smoothly as silk. Ah, yes, he still had it, Alfred thought with satisfaction. "Why did you feel the need to view them if you do not suspect some foul deed?"
Bruce ran a hand through his hair as he collapsed into his leather chair behind the desk. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the polished wood.
"I know that Elle's responsible for the changes and gifts in the living room. She all but announced she was planning to do something like this yesterday when she and Dick arrived. You have to admit the changes were impressive. Enough so that I wanted to see for myself how she accomplished it," Bruce told the older man. "I'm fairly certain that Dick must have helped her, but he seemed as sincerely perplexed as anyone this morning. He's just not that good an actor, Alfred, to fool me so thoroughly. But I can't imagine that the girl could have managed all that by herself without alerting anyone."
"Perhaps it was as she suggested, then," Alfred purposed.
Bruce raised an eyebrow and contemplated his butler-cum-everything. "What suggestion is that? . . . That it was Santa Claus and his elves? Don't be ridiculous!"
"It appears to be a mystery, Master Bruce," Alfred mused.
Said master narrowed his eyes on older man. "What do you know about the matter?"
"I, sir?" Alfred tsked. "I was sleeping. I am getting older, and it gets increasingly difficult to make certain the house runs smoothly and be up early in preparation for another full day without getting at least a certain amount of rest."
Suspicion was quickly replaced with concern. "Are you all right, Alfred? Is there something I can do? Do you need a break . . . Some time off, perhaps?"
It was galling, but it served its purpose. Suspicion averted. "I will do well enough getting through the holidays. Maybe I'll consider doing just that after the New Year."
"If you need help, all you have to do is ask, you realize. The boys and I will be glad to lend a hand or take on a few of your tasks if you need us to. It is no trouble at all."
Alfred hesitated and considered this. He didn't need the help; at least not for many years down the road yet without some unforeseen calamity coming to bear. But it might be worth the extra work required to clean up afterwards in order to watch the young masters fumble about in the kitchen in preparation of the evening meal.
Ah, alas, but no. It was still Christmas, and he would be damned if he allowed the day to be less than perfect just for an hour of amusement at Master Bruce and his boys' expense . . . But maybe later, when things slow down again and he felt in the need of a good laugh.
Bruce rose to his feet with concern. Never before had Alfred paused to consider accepting 'help' without feeling insulted by the mere offer. Suddenly Bruce was aware of the passing of years that had gone by without his noticing. The missing tapes were temporarily forgotten.
"Do you need to sit down," he offered. "Can I get you something?"
Alfred looked at him with his familiar disdain at the offer. Bruce felt himself begin to relax.
"You could barely manage to boil water even should you be able to locate the tea kettle," Alfred snorted. "I thank you, but no. That is completely unnecessary. If you are finished now, I have a lunch to prepare for and a full house to feed."
Bruce waved his dismissal and watched, amused, as his major domo turned crisply on his heel and exited the room. It was nearly a minute later that he realized that his questions had been neatly and expertly averted. Taking this into consideration, Bruce turned his thoughts in the direction of his eldest son who was the most likely candidate for accomplice in the house.
Maybe Dick's acting had improved over the last few months.
He had replaced the missing tapes, but decided to leave the cameras running for the rest of the day to test his equipment. Bruce usually only turned them on during the night while he was occupied elsewhere or sleeping.
The mystery would eat at him, however.
Bruce exited the study in order to locate Dick to question him. Probably outside waiting for Elle and the boys to get back from another run about the neighborhood in her newly-refurbished Yugo. A smile teased his lips.
A Yugo, for God's sake! As he thought for the thousandth time since Dick had shown up with the clunker in tow.
Somehow, though, when his son had described Elle's affection for the bucket of bolts, it had rung true. And when he remembered of her reaction to Dick's gift, he decided that the time and money spent was well worth it.
Lunch went better than breakfast. There was conversation, at least, and no injuries. All in all, it could be considered a success by normal Bat standards.
And Jason was still present.
Bruce had expected him to depart as soon as he had taken his turn behind the wheel of the upgraded Yugo, but Elle had likely suspected much of the same thing and had latched onto his arm as soon as they had returned; insisting he stay for lunch. It worked!
For the second time, Elle sat across from Dick rather than beside him. Damian and Jason was on either side of her. Tim sat beside Dick but across from Damian, as far as he could get from Jason without disappearing into the kitchen. Despite that, Tim was no longer pale nor was he staring at his plate during the course of the meal. He added to the stilted conversation and even laughed once or twice.
Elle presence seemed to ease whatever tensions seemed to consistently haunt the dining room table at Wayne Manor. Bruce had noted twice more when she had calmed a potential argument from breaking out with that curious sing-song voice that she had used with Damian. He had studied her as she had done it, but determined that it was all done unconsciously on her part. Instinct, he concluded, rather than manipulation.
She was a natural-born negotiator and a peacemaker. He could see exactly why Cedric Hamilton had been so anxious for her to join his business. Arabella Hamilton would be a formidable opponent to face across the negotiation table.
At the end of the meal, as he had expected, Elle had tucked her arm into Jason's and led him in the direction of the living room. Damian had followed with a disgruntled look, but Elle had held her hand out for the boy and Bruce felt his lips twitch at the way his youngest son lit up like a beacon upon being included in her coveted attention.
Dick threw an arm around Tim's shoulders and kept the older boy just as involved and included in the festivities as Elle was doing with the other two. Bruce followed along feeling an elusive well of contentment settling in his gut for the first time since before Dick had become an angst-ridden teenager.
Elle pushed Jason down into the chair by the fireplace and Tim and Damian obediently sat on the sofa next to their eldest brother. She pointed Bruce to the chair he had been using previously.
"There are more surprises in store," she promised with a grin.
"Are you going to make Todd sing like you did the rest of us," Damian asked with a knowing smirk at the young man in question.
Jason frowned and shifted in his chair. "What are you talking about?"
"Elle introduced Bruce and family to the joys of Karaoke last night," Dick snorted with amusement.
Jason's eyes widened in blatant disbelief. "What the f- . . . heck! I mean, what the heck?"
Elle swung around to face him. "Do you sing, Jay," she asked, picking up Dick's nickname for Jason.
"He- . . . Heck, no!" His eyes held a touch of panic. He looked like he would bolt any second.
"Not even in the shower," Dick asked; enjoying teasing his younger brother. It didn't happen often.
"Well, neither do I and I had to take a turn," Damian complained.
"I don't see any water around here, and I'll be da- uh, darned if any of you will be following me into the bathroom," Jason declared, defensively.
Elle studied him, and if Bruce didn't miss his guess, he would say she was listening to his voice critically. He thought there was a decided look of calculation in her expression, but she only shrugged.
"Maybe later, then," she said, letting the young man off the hook momentarily.
Bruce had no doubt that she would be revisiting the topic again at another time. Jason visibly relaxed even as Damian went into a pout.
"Not fair," Damian grumbled, causing Dick to grin and ruffle the boy's hair.
Alfred appeared at that moment dragging a large bag with him.
"You're gifts, Miss Arabella," he announced.
Bruce frowned and leaned forward. Indeed, the bag was full of long boxes wrapped up prettily with large bows of either red or green.
"You already gave everyone a gift, Elle," Bruce objected. "You didn't have to do this."
Elle laughed brightly. "Of course, I did," she said. "I thought this would make for a fun afternoon, and thought it would be even more fun to gift wrap the items we would need."
Well, she had definitely sparked everyone's curiosity. Bruce glanced at Dick for his reaction, but his eldest met his eyes and lifted a confused shoulder.
"She doesn't tell me everything, you know," Dick told him.
Elle smiled genially. "I can keep a secret. And I love getting and giving surprises."
"Hm, this family is a little better giving surprises than it is with receiving them," Dick warned her.
She started passing out the boxes to each person. "I think this will be a pleasant one," she told him.
She had two left over. She handed one to an astonished Alfred and kept one for herself. Elle walked around the coffee table rather than attempt to step over Tim and Damian's legs. She seated herself on the sofa's armrest by her fiancée, and promptly began to tear at the paper.
Jason shook his box suspiciously first, but then proceeded to follow suit and rip the paper apart. Curiously, Bruce and the others did the same. He opened the end of the box and retrieved its contents. He sat staring at what lay in his hands, utterly flabbergasted!
He glanced up to find the room staring at either the item in their hands or at him in shocked silence. Elle appeared pleased with herself, although Jason took one look and promptly burst into laughter. Dick's mouth was doing a good imitation of a fish; opening and closing without words forming.
Elle glanced around at the reactions with consternation. Only Jason appeared to be happy with the gift.
" . . . Or, then again, maybe not," she muttered; hugely disappointed with how her gifts were being received.
Dick laid his present carefully on the coffee table in front of him. "Elle, sweetheart . . ." he began uncertainly.
"What did I do wrong" she asked, thickly. And why were her eyes watering, damn it? She blinked rapidly to dispel her tears before they fell.
"I should have told you," he said. "Trust me, had I known, I would have . . ."
"I don't understand," she interrupted him; hating the whine in her voice. "Tell me what?"
Bruce set the rifle underneath the tree beside him. It was a toy, but that didn't matter. He refused to have firearms, of any variety, in his home.
"Firearms aren't welcome in this house," Bruce's voice was hard and emotionless. This was an unbreakable rule in the manor. It had been ever since Alfred brought one traumatized ten year old child home after having witnessing a mugging gone horribly wrong.
Elle blinked. She wasn't sure of his point exactly.
"Oookay," she said, warily. "That is your prerogative, of course, but these aren't firearms. These are mini-marshmallow toy guns. It shoots tiny marshmallows." She held up one of the bags of the sugary treats that she had in included in each of the boxes.
"It doesn't matter," Jason snorted, finally inserted himself into the conversation. "Bruce would ban water pistols."
"Why would he do that?" She turned from Dick and Jason back to Bruce. "Why would you do that?"
It seemed like overkill to her. A lot of people didn't like guns, but most of them didn't also deny themselves the fun of water fights, or Nerf wars, or in this case, marshmallow battles.
Dick answered for him. "Bruce's parents were murdered with a gun," he told her softly.
"Oh," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."
She knew it had been the loss of his parents that had sent this man on his crusade, but she hadn't been told any specifics of it before now. But that had been . . . how many years ago? And still he allowed a single event to define him; one grief-filled moment to rule his every decision. It seemed a little excessive to her. Had he never gone to grief counseling before?
She looked at the man who had raised the man she adored and wondered at the irony. Dick also had a crusade. His parents had also been murdered, and yet he seemed better-rounded; more mentally and emotionally stable than his adopted father. How had that happened?
But Bruce didn't get it right every time, she thought; seeing Jason out of the corner of her eye. There was Tim, and then poor Damian, whose family on his mother's side seemed even more out of whack than having a father who dressed up like a giant bat and roamed the night. What had she gotten herself into?
Bruce appeared to be satisfied that Elle finally understood the gravity of the situation, but in that he would be mistaken. Elle's mother had been murdered before her own young eyes, but Elle didn't avoid driving in cars. They had been pushed off of a cliff and had fallen into the sea; forcing Elle to swim for her life or die with her. But she didn't avoid water or heights either! In fact, Elle had taken up swimming and competitive diving.
Of course, now she understood why the water called to her, but she didn't have to have it to survive and she certainly refused to allow her grief and personal trauma to rule her.
Elle would never deny that Bruce was saving lives and doing good; indeed, he was doing things that the police weren't capable of doing all for the betterment of society! What he was doing to himself, however, wasn't healthy in the least.
"You do realize that these don't shoot real bullets, though, right?" And she watched Bruce's face turn stony in reaction to her question.
"No guns," he said with finality.
"But you carry one! I've seen it," Elle argued, frustrated. Why was she continuing this? She was going to ruin everyone's Christmas!
Now it was Bruce turn to stare, nonplussed. "You are mistaken."
"No," she insisted. "I'm not! That thing that you shoot at buildings so that you can swing around the city . . ."
She watched him recognize the validity of her argument, and his jaw set. She glanced around at the others and saw their dawning comprehension. Jason started grinning. Dick's mouth opened a little with awe. Tim's eyes widened. She was gaining ground with the boys.
"Come on," she encouraged. "You can do it. Say it with me . . . A grapnel . . . gun."
Bruce was not amused by her argument. Even so, his was ridiculous! A gun was an inanimate object! By itself, a gun was capable of doing nothing more than collecting dust. It was the person holding the gun that made it the source of pain or the source of salvation; the means to harm another person or a means to put food on the table.
If Bruce were to shoot his grapnel gun at someone's head, that person would suffer a horrendous wound if he were not killed outright. If Elle shot someone in the eye with her marshmallow gun, his eye might . . . might become bloodshot as a result. It was like comparing apples to broccoli . . .
Bruce continued to be obstinate.
Sighing heavily, Elle picked up her marshmallow gun and her bag of delicious ammo and left the room without another word. Dick caught at her hand, but she pulled free of him with surprising dexterity.
"Elle, wait!"
"Let her go, Dick," Bruce said. "I won't have these . . ."
"Toys, Bruce," Dick interrupted; raising his voice in anger. "They're toys! Elle didn't know! She sure as hell didn't mean you any harm! You didn't have to hurt her feelings like that!"
"If she's going to be a part of this family, then it is better that she finds out now the rules of this house and learns to abide by them."
Dick stood up, picked up his own toy gun and the bag of mini-marshmallows. "I'm beginning to wonder if I still want to be a part of this family," he ground out.
"Dick, wait," Bruce called out as his son stormed out of the living room after Elle; only to feel something ping off of his cheek. He turned his head just in time for Jason to bounce a mini-marshmallow off of the center of his forehead.
"You're still an asshole, you know that, Bruce?" Jason was shaking his head sadly. "Leave it to you to ruin the best Christmas this house has seen in forever. Guess nothing has changed after all."
Tim and Damian had watched the drama unfolding in front of them like a horrific car accident. One just couldn't look away . . .
"Father," Damian demanded, "stop her! You can't let them go!"
[Poomph]
"Hey!" Dick cried out, apparently startled.
His voice interrupted the conversation. Everyone turned their heads in the general direction of the hall outside of the living room. They were waiting for an argument to ensue, and they each strained to listen with certain dread. Elle was the best thing to happen to Dick and no one wanted to see them have a falling out over this.
Hell, Elle was the best thing to have happened to the family! That she might leave and refuse to return, taking Dick with her, was a very real possibility.
"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to follow me out." They overheard Elle saying.
Obviously, she hadn't stormed off to her room to pack. In fact, Tim and Damian exchanged a look, she didn't sound upset at all.
"It's still Christmas." Dick answered her. Odd. He actually sounded cheerful, despite his angry words less than a minute ago.
"I refuse to allow my marshmallow guns to go to waste," Elle declared imperiously.
[Poomph]
"You missed me," Dick commented dryly. "You know that they can probably hear us in there."
He was right. The couple must be just a few feet down the hall, near the foyer, for their voices to be heard so clearly.
"Good!" Elle didn't sound concerned in the least. "Let them be jealous of our good time! There!" [Poomph] "Take that!"
Dick snorted with amusement. "You missed again!"
"I think there must be something wrong with the sights," they heard Elle complain.
"Let me try it," Dick offered. [Poomph]
"Hey," Elle yelped.
"Mine seems to work just fine," Dick told her.
There was a sound of a plastic bag rustling.
"Gotcha," Elle declared, triumphant.
Dick laughed. "Now you're cheating! You can't just throw a handful of marshmallows!"
"Well, of course I'm cheating," Elle said. "I'm just your average, every day, slightly clumsy, totally awesome, but completely normal female who is up against a super-freak! I have to use every advantage I can get!" [Poomph]
"Super-freak?" Dick sounded mildly offended. [Poomph]
"Fine, fine, okay . . . I'm up against the amazingly tight ab-ed, marvelously-toned buns of the incredibly gorgeous, wonderfully sexy, and utterly non-average Night-superfreaking-wing! Better, now?"
Dick choked with laughter. "Well, okay then! That's alright!"
Tim laughed, only to have Damian elbow him to be quiet. They were both kneeling, facing the back of the couch close to the open archway; not even pretending to not be eavesdropping on their brother's conversation with his fiancée.
Bruce stood up and moved nearer the couch.
"Don't even think about interrupting this, old man," Jason warned him; waving his own marshmallow gun in his direction.
[Poomph Poomph]
Dick's voice drifted in a minute later. "Where'd you learn to shoot?"
Bruce frowned, but he didn't interrupt.
"Are you making fun of me," Elle asked; disbelief in her voice.
"No," Dick replied. "I'm making fun of your shooting." [Poomph]
"Hey! No wisecracks about my shooting!" Elle yelped. [Poomph]
"You call that shooting?" Dick called out.
"No, I call this shooting," Elle stated triumphantly. [Poomph]
There were sounds of running feet, followed by a muffled thump. [Poomph Poomph]
"Hah!" Dick chuckled. "Thank you for making my point."
"Don't be an asshole," Elle groused. [Poomph]
"Ah, ah! Language," Dick snickered. [Poomph]
"Are you going to tell Alfred on me?"
"I won't have to," Dick told her. "I wasn't kidding when I said they could hear us out here." [Poomph]
The occupants of the living room glanced warily at Alfred, but the butler merely raised an eyebrow; an odd expression on his face.
"I'm improving," Elle said with a pout in her voice. "There! Take that!" [Poomph Poomph]
"At least those were in the same zip code," Dick snarked. [Poomph]
"Oh no, you did not just say that! I am going to shove that zip code remark down your throat, Grayson!" Elle declared. [Poomph Poomph]
Dick started laughing even harder. "At least try to shoot in my general direction!"
"Gah! Quit jumping around so much," Elle demanded. She sounded frustrated. [Poomph]
By now everyone, even Bruce, was grinning; imagining the mini-marshmallow battle that was happening mere few feet from their location.
"What do you expect from a Super-Freak?" They could tell from the sound of Dick's voice that he had been moving almost constantly since this all began. [Poomph Poomph]
"I expect you to die like a proper super-villain!" Elle replied dramatically. [Poomph]
"If I am the villain, then you must be the comic relief," Dick retorted. [Poomph Poomph]
Tim slapped a hand over his mouth to hold back his laughter.
"At least I am funnier than you are," Elle quipped. [Poomph]
"Well, I'll admit that your shooting is hilarious," Dick agreed. [Poomph]
"Oh my God!" Elle snorted with laughter. "How did you ever survive childhood?" [Poomph]
"Bruce likes my jokes," Dick declared. His offended tone was ruined by more laughter. [Poomph]
Four sets of eyes swung in Bruce's direction. His lips twitched with amusement, and he shrugged.
"Honey," Elle said, mock sympathy thick in her voice. "I love you but nobody likes your jokes." [Poomph]
"You're just jealous because I'm winning," Dick replied. [Poomph Poomph]
"So what," Elle retorted. "That only makes you about as smart as you are funny!" [Poomph]
Tim winced in mock sympathy. "Ooh, ouch," he whispered.
Damian shushed him again with another elbow, but Tim only grinned.
Elle was still speaking. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that fiancées are supposed to be allowed to win?" [Poomph]
"What can I say? I come from a competitive family," Dick told her. [Poomph Poomph]
"Yeah? Well, so do I," Elle came back. [Poomph]
"Sweetheart," Dick said in mock sympathy. "I love you, but your shooting is not competitive." [Poomph]
"Not competitive? Darn you, Dick Grayson! You take that back," Elle demanded. [Poomph Poomph]
"Okay," Dick agreed cheerfully. "Crappy, then! Your shooting is crappy!" [Poomph]
This time Bruce winced. Dick might win this battle, but he had a feeling that Elle would be the one winning the war.
"Ooh, have at thee, knave!" Elle was yelling now. "I'll have your guts for garters for that!" [Poomph Poomph Poomph]
Dick howled with laughter. "Baby, I'm over here!"
"Dang it, Dick! Stop moving!" Elle yelped. Any annoyance she might have felt was ruined by the fit of giggles that immediately followed.
Alfred's British stoicism cracked and he grinned as his four fellow-eavesdroppers began laughing outright.
"Darling," Dick gasped, breathlessly. "I don't think it would make a difference if I did."
"Gah!" Elle groused in frustration. "Fine, then. Do you want some hot chocolate?"
"Sure," Dick agreed happily. "At least the rest of the marshmallows won't go to waste. I can't believe you were willing to throw away all of these tiny marshmallows. I know how much you love them."
"Marshmallows are never wasted," Elle declared. "Besides, I still have twenty bags of them left, along with three more double-barreled shotguns, four pistols, and two mini-marshmallow crossbows all hidden throughout the manor. I'll have my revenge on you yet."
"You'd still need to be able to hit the broad side of a barn," Dick told her.
"I can hit a barn," Elle replied; sounding offended.
"I meant a barn in our same time-zone," Dick snarked cheekily. "So, who's going to clean up all of these marshmallows?"
"All of this yummy ammo, you mean? We can reuse it," Elle informed him. "Do you know where Alfred keeps the broom?"
"I know where Alfred keeps several brooms. I'll even help you," Dick offered magnanimously.
"You just want to get out of the doghouse after that barn comment," Elle laughed.
"Hm. You never did tell me where you learned to shoot," Dick reminded her.
"Nintendo," she finally admitted.
"That . . . actually makes sense," Dick laughed. "Were you any good?"
"No," Elle said; amusement lacing her tone. "Jerk!"
"You love me," Dick reminded her.
"Yes," Elle agreed. "And you are a very lucky man that I do, Dick Grayson."
"That I am," Dick agreed wholeheartedly.
Silence followed, leading the occupants in the living room to believe that the marshmallow combatants had moved off to the kitchen in search of sustenance and cleaning implements.
Tim looked over at Bruce with a hopeful expression. "Bruce, please, please, tell me that you left the security cameras on in the public areas!"
Bruce raised an eyebrow. He had. "I also added sound to the new system just a few months ago."
Damian whooped and leapt over the back of the sofa. "Race you to the Batcave!"
Laughing, Tim ran after him. "You're on, shorty!"
Jason smirked at the other two men and ambled off after the two younger boys.
Alfred turned to his eldest charge. "I take it you are no longer offended by Miss Arabella's marshmallow weaponry?"
Bruce shrugged and walked back over the pile of wrapping paper near his chair. He picked up the double-barreled, mini-marshmallow shotgun that Elle had given him.
"Alfred, I begin to see its uses," he said, smirking.
"And what are those?"
Bruce cocked the toy weapon and shot two marshmallows at his butler. "An excellent way to end the best Christmas this house has witnessed in decades," he said, repeating Jason's earlier declaration.
Later that afternoon found the entire Bat clan in the Batcave.
Damian was yelling as he dove and rolled for the cover of the giant penny. A barrage of mini-marshmallows followed in his wake. The guns were pathetically inaccurate. The tiny confection wasn't exactly aerodynamically suitable as ammunition and was too slow to keep up with movement unless one anticipated the target's actions in advance. But surprisingly, those difficulties made the marshmallow battle seem all the more challenging and a sight more entertaining than anyone could have predicted.
Elle's team was losing badly despite having Jason and Tim on her side. No one seemed to mind, however, as they shot at each other wildly, and then raced to find and appropriate yet another hidden bag of ammo.
"You have to quit laughing so hard," Jason critiqued Elle's actions. "That's why everyone is able to shoot you so easily!"
Elle snickered and shot at him.
"Hey! I'm on your team," he yelped. The marshmallow had gone flying past him with two feet of clearance. She really was a terrible shot.
It hadn't taken but a couple of minutes of viewing the security footage earlier to convince Bruce to arrange for an epic marshmallow battle that included everyone. Jason grinned in remembered awe at hearing Bruce's startling guffaws at the video image of Dick waving his arms and presenting a huge target for Elle, only to have her marshmallows ping off of a landscape painting on the wall four feet to Dick's left.
Grinning, Bruce had told Alfred to arrange an appointment for Elle to have her vision tested after he managed to regain some semblance of control.
Bruce popped up from behind the Batmobile and shot several rounds of the white puffs in their direction. Jason grabbed Elle and dodged out of the way. He needn't have bothered as the marshmallows fell woefully short of their targets by nearly a foot. More laughter ensued.
Tim's answering fire came unexpectedly from above. He had scaled the dinosaur and was using gravity to gain more distance in reaching his target. A hail of marshmallows pinged and bounced off of the Batmobile and Bruce's head.
Damian shot several rounds in Tim's direction, but the marshmallows bounced harmlessly off of the dinosaur's belly; not even coming close to their intended quarry.
Elle took cover behind a rolling office chair and searched the cave for signs of Dick. He had disappeared several minutes earlier, and she had no doubt he was preparing an ambush. She backed up, pulling the chair with her as she rounded the side of the huge central computer. A hand came out of the shadows to grab her and Elle was yanked behind the machine.
Elle opened her mouth to yelp, but Dick's mouth came down hard on hers as he pushed her against the cave's wall. Her yell morphed into a moan as he pressed into her soft warmth. Her gun clattered to the floor as she slid her arms around his shoulders and threaded her fingers into his hair.
They smiled at each other when Dick finally raised his head.
"We should make love," he suggested, "not war."
Elle's face scrunched with suppressed laughter. "We cannot desert them now," she whispered back.
"Give me one good reason why not," he murmured into her ear as he nibbled on her lobe.
Suddenly they were pelted by dozens of marshmallows from two directions. The couple looked around them and spied Damian and Jason frowning at them from opposite sides.
"Hey! No fraternizing with the enemy," Damian warned.
"What the demon-child said," Jason barked, and sent another several rounds of marshmallows bouncing off of Dick's head.
Elle squealed with laughter! She barely managed to retrieve her weapon when Dick grabbed her hand and hauled her out from behind the computer.
"Come on," he yelled, and gave her no choice but to follow him simply by refusing to relinquish her hand.
"She's with me," Dick declared loudly as he makes a stand; shooting at both Jason and Damian.
As he laid down cover fire, Elle yanked on his shirt and they both ran for shelter.
"This way," Elle called back at him, and they duck into one of the training rooms.
"I'm almost out of marshmallows," he told her as he slammed the door behind them. He turned and found Elle digging something out from behind the mats. "What are you doing?"
"I hid these down here this afternoon when I came looking for Alfred," she said. "It's my own private cache."
"Have I told you lately how much I love you," Dick asked her as he kissed her.
He took one of the bags and began to reload. Elle finished the bag off and tucked the remaining one under Dick's shirt. As prepared as they were ever going to be, the couple moved back to the door; ready to rejoin the battle.
Dick eased the door open and slammed it shut again as marshmallows bounced off their barrier harmlessly. All four of the other combatants were lying in wait; prepared to pounce as soon as the two of them emerged.
"We're trapped," he told her in mock seriousness. "I think it's over now."
"Nightwing doesn't surrender," Elle proclaimed, grinning at him. "It's not over yet!"
As he watched, Elle opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. Confused, Dick frowned at her until he heard suddenly heard them. His eyes widened!
Bats!
Hundreds of them!
As they listened, they could hear the mad scrambling of feet amidst the onslaught of screeching, flying mammals. Damian and Tim were shouting while Jason could be heard cursing. Bruce, however, was laughing madly.
"Okay, Elle," Bruce called out over the din. "Call them off! You two win!"
Dick opened the door warily, and the two emerged as the bats finally began disappearing back into the depths of the cave system.
Bruce is leaning over with his hands on his knees, grinning.
"You win," he conceded.
Jason was standing just behind Bruce with his hair comically standing on end. He glared at them, breathless. "What the holy fuck was that?!"
Tim crawls out from under the computer console. "Are they gone?"
Damian appeared from behind him. His eyes were huge. "I don't get it! What made them attack us?"
Elle was immediately contrite. "Oh, ah, shoot! I'm sorry, Dami," she said. "They weren't attacking you."
Four pairs of eyes centered on her.
"What were they doing if not attacking," Bruce asked, frowning.
Elle grinned sheepishly. "They were dancing!"
". . . "
"The fuck, you say!" Jason gaped at her.
Dick started laughing. "How did you do that, really?"
He remembered the first time Elle had tried this. The bats had swarmed her and Elle had freaked out. Dick would have sworn that she would never have tried that trick again standing in the cave.
Elle shrugged her shoulders. "I figured it out," was all she would admit to.
Aiming her marshmallow rifle into the air, she fired a round off in triumph. A lone bat shrieked and swooped in to catch the tiny marshmallow puff in its claws. She gasped in surprise as it flew off into the dark shadows of the cave's roof with its treasure. Answering screeches echoed throughout the cave.
Jason, Tim, and Damian all ducked, but Elle shook her fist at the offending creature.
"That was my marshmallow," she yelled after it.
Dick started laughing, and slowly the nervous laughter of the others joined him one by one.
"We win," he declared with a grin; lifting Elle into his arms.
"Hell, yes, you win," Jason agreed hotly. He looked at Elle with new respect. "That was pretty cool, but don't ever do that again," he huffed at her, and then muttered under his breath. "At least, not while I'm here."
Dinner was a boisterous affair with everyone attempting to talk over each other as they recalled the attack of the bats, the epic marshmallow battle below, and discussed between them the different strategies that they would use the next time. Bruce presides over the chaos with a smile and a deep sense of satisfaction.
This was, indeed, the best Christmas that he could remember ever having . . . His family was all gathered around one table. Not only were they not attempting to kill each other, but were actually laughing or arguing good-naturedly and having a wonderful time! With one another, no less!
Bruce would call it a miracle if he actually believed in them. The day was far, far more than he could have ever hoped for . . .
Dick and Elle were seated together, side by side this time, as their self-proclaimed reward for winning the battle so soundly. Jason and Tim sat on the other side with only Damian between them; their animosity temporarily forgotten in the moment. Bruce was not foolish enough to believe that the troubles of the past had been banished entirely, but it was a good start . . .
A great start . . .
"And now to end a wonderful day," Alfred was saying.
The butler sat down a silver tray on which sat seven mugs of steaming hot chocolate; all of which were piled high with dozens of tiny mini-marshmallows!
Five groans follow, but Elle was delighted.
"You can never have too many marshmallows," she announced, picking up her mug. "Merry Christmas, everyone!"
"Merry Christmas, Elle," Damian said as he climbed to his knees on the chair in order to reach for his own mug. Everyone else chimed in as well as they all reached for their drinks.
And it was . . .
REACTIONS?
I am hoping this wasn't too OOC for the Bat Fam. Had this happened early on, I think maybe it would have been, but after everything, I felt like this was indeed possible to achieve. Eventually, this family will learn to love each other and to get along without murder and mayhem . . . They can fight and argue all they want in other stories, but this one is ultimately about love and laughter and reconciliation.
Enjoy the fluff, because eventually the darkness must set in as Aiden stays true to his word . . .