Pairings/Characters: Dick, Clark/Bruce, Alfred
Genres: Fluff, Holiday, Slice-Of-Life
Summary: Christmas morning at the Manor with the Wayne-Kent family.
Date Of Completion: December 21, 2014
Date Of Posting: December 27, 2014
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1068
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Lay scattered around,
Toys and gifts shine,
A child’s Paradise Found.
Toy soldiers march
And china dolls dance
As childish giggles arch
Up to the ceiling, askance.
Hobby horses rock
Trains huff and puff
While tops spin and blocks
Tumble in a sea of fluff.
All the waiting ‘tis done,
As the morning gleams
And the hopes of weeks past
Become fulfilled dreams.
Sarah Steele Blessingame
Snow fell gently outside the windows of the Manor. The smell of gingerbread baking in the oven wafted into the living room. The tree glittered as the fire crackled in the hearth. Christmas cards lined the mantel and strings of glossy holly festooned the fireplace.
Dick lay in the midst of a riot of gaily-colored wrapping paper, a scrap of gold paper in his hair as he played with his new phone. Clark and Bruce lounged on the couch drinking cups of hot coffee. Clark wore a platinum wristwatch while Bruce was riffling through a book on Japan. The three of them were in robes and pajamas and utterly blissful. Christmas music played softly in the background as sunlight peeked in through the closed drapes. Bruce shut off the lamp by the couch.
Alfred came into the living room. He had changed from his robe and pajamas but wore a very casual sweater and pants. His feet were still clad in slippers as he methodically opened the drapes at every window. His charges blinked at the flood of sunlight.
“Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes, sirs.”
Alfred shuffled through the wrapping paper, the crinkling loud in the room as he sauntered out.
“Translation: start cleaning this mess up,” Bruce drawled.
Clark chuckled. “Guess we’d better, then.” He put his mug down on a coaster on the coffee table and rose, stretching with a yawn. He walked over to Dick and promptly rolled him around in the wrapping paper. The boy giggled.
Clark put a big red bow on Dick’s hair. “Now you’re all set.”
“Who wants a Robin for Christmas?” Dick chirped.
“I do,” said Bruce.
Clark lifted Dick up and deposited him into Bruce’s lap. Bruce smiled as Dick hugged him.
Clark gently huffed and blew the scraps of wrapping paper into a pile. “Go get me a trash bag, will you, Dick?”
“Sure thing!” Dick hopped off Bruce and ran to the kitchen.
“He’s a good kid,” Clark said.
“He sure is.” Bruce looked at Clark, his expression soft. “You’re pretty special yourself.”
Clark’s smiled was blinding. “Who knew that Christmas softened the Bat-Grinch?”
“I am not a Grinch!”
Clark sat down on the couch and pulled on Bruce’s lapels. He kissed him and when he pulled back, his eyes twinkled.
“Mmm, more like a Christmas elf.”
“Are you calling me Hermie? I don’t fix teeth.”
“Maybe a cowboy who rides an ostrich?”
“Or a caboose with square wheels?”
Dick dashed in and rapidly filled the bag with paper. He set the bows aside for re-use, plucking the one off his head and putting it in the bow pile.
“Alfred says breakfast is ready.”
“Okay.” Clark picked up the trash bag in one hand and Dick in the other and headed for the kitchen. Bruce followed leisurely and the wonderful smell of gingerbread filled the immaculate room.
Dick put the bag by the back door while Alfred poured fresh coffee for the adults and cranberry juice for Dick. Bruce washed out the mugs from the living room. The wall phone rang and Clark answered it.
“Merry Christmas, Ma! Yes, we’re going to sit down and have breakfast.”
Dick opened the refrigerator and took out a jar of maraschino cherries. Bruce took out a bowl of whipped cream.
“I’m glad you liked the scarf. It’s from a bazaar in India. Yes, when I was there on assignment from The Planet last summer.” Clark grinned. “Yes, that gift certificate is good for Romelli’s. You and Pa should go for New Year’s Eve. I heard they have a special menu for that night.”
Alfred took the gingerbread out of the oven. He cut four squares and placed generous dollops of whipped cream and a cherry on top of each one.
Dick grinned as he went over to Clark. “Can I talk?” he whispered.
Clark handed the phone to him after saying, “Ma, here’s Dick.”
“Hi, Mrs. Kent! Thank you and Mr. Kent for the sweater! I love it!” Dick laughed. “Yes, the colors are just right!”
Bruce and Alfred exchanged raised eyebrows. The sweater was a work of art by Martha Kent as it was hand-knit but was a gaudy Christmas scene with bright red and green colors, complete with gamboling reindeer and singing snowmen and a crowd of Christmas characters. She had noted Dick’s sartorial sense, much to his mentors’ chagrin.
“And thanks for the hand-carved cow! Bessie never looked better! Gee, Mr. Kent sure is good at that stuff.”
Clark smiled warmly and put his hand on Dick’s shoulder as the boy chattered, and when he received the phone back he sent his love to Martha, and love from Bruce and Alfred, too.
Dick grinned as he took his seat. “Gingerbread for breakfast? I love your tradition!”
Bruce smiled as he sat down, too. “My father had gingerbread for Christmas breakfast every year when he was a child. His father had enjoyed it, and his father before him, I’d bet.”
Dick picked up his fork. “I approve of this tradition!”
“Yes, Pa, the boots are just what I needed. I will. I’ll see you and Ma later.” He laughed. “Merry Christmas, Pa. I love you.” He sent on his family’s love and hung up. Pulling out a chair, he said cheerfully, “Everyone’s healthy and happy.”
“Glad to hear it.” Bruce cut a piece of gingerbread and savored it.
Clark smiled and picked up his fork. Contentment settled in his bones. He was very happy to be here on Christmas morning with his family. He had been very lucky growing up with wonderful parents and now married to a fantastic man with a cheerful boy and a great friend in Alfred, who was more like a father-in-law, if truth be told.
As he ate his unusual breakfast he listened to Dick’s chatter, Alfred’s dry wit and Bruce’s chuckles.
“Merry Christmas to all,” he murmured.