Ficlet: A Light in the Window | DCU | Jason/Tim, Dick, etc | PG | 1/1
Title: A Light in the Window
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Jason/Tim, Dick, Alfred, Damian
Rating: PG
Word Count: 960
Prompt: For my DCU FFA claim: flame; For my 50 Darkfics claim: candle; For the 2009 DCU Free For All Winter Holidays Challenge: Candles; For bradygirl_12's 2009 DCU Fic/Art Glitter Winter Holidays Challenge: glitter (Ficcish multitasking FTW! \O/)
Summary: While decorating the Christmas Tree at the Manor, Tim observes a different tradition, and Jason thinks about the ways things have changed for all of them.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: Takes place a while after Come Undone, in my 'verse where Jason is Batman and Tim is his Robin. No canon need apply. Also, I'm not even Jewish, so I don't even know what. I guess my Tim and Jason muses are finally talking to me again. :p
A Light in the Window
Halfway into helping decorate the Christmas tree in the living room at the Manor--a modestly-sized spruce, this first year with all the boys back in the house--Jason still can't quite believe any of this is real. Last year this time, he hadn't spoken to either Dick or Tim in months, hadn't seen Alfred in much longer, and had done everything in his power to outright avoid Bruce for what had felt like an entire lifetime. There wasn't so much as an ounce of hope that any of that would change, and no one could've predicted things would unfold as they have in the intervening time. Hell, at that point, Jason was still shaking off the last his little trip through the Multiverse with Donna and Kyle. All this here, now, was beyond his wildest dream--nightmare?--back then.
Which isn't to say he'd rather be somewhere else. Maybe last year he would've, all things considered, but ever since Bruce... disappeared, and since taking up the cowl himself, he's simply felt different. Been different.
Alfred might say he's found himself, had a change of heart. That might be true. Stranger things have happened, anyway.
Like him and Tim. Not in a million years would he have figured his hateful-loathing-spiteful relationship with the Baby Bat could be anything other than just that. After that night in the showers a few months ago, well, things have just changed. 'Better' doesn't even begin to describe it.
And speaking of his partner...
Tearing himself away from his contemplation and the sparklingly lit tree as he finishes hanging a silver snowflake on a high branch, Jason turns to seek out Tim to see if he can't drag him under that mistletoe Dick hung up earlier in the afternoon.
But the younger Bat isn't around.
"Hey, Alfred," he asks as he snags a fresh gingerbread cookie from the tray just brought in, "seen Tim lately?"
"I believe he went upstairs several minutes ago. Here, don't get crumbs on the rug," the older man finishes, passing a napkin and looking somehow annoyed and amused at the same time.
Jason takes the napkin with a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Sorry," he murmurs, turning away again, and that's when Tim walks back into the living room, a flat, wooden box held carefully in his hands. Jay pauses for a moment as Tim crosses the room to the large window facing out toward the thin treeline and the ocean beyond. He's never seen the box before, and his brother seems awfully serious about whatever it is he's got.
Snarfing his cookie, he keeps his distance and watches Tim open the box and pull out--
A Hanukkah Menorah. Of course.
Jay doesn't think much of religion, beyond the usual Christmas trappings and chocolate eggs at Easter time, so he hasn't really discussed anything with Tim. He doesn't even know when Hanukkah is, really. And that suddenly strikes him as damn sad.
Stepping close to Tim after a few moments spent watching him set the Menorah up on the table by the window and say a few prayers in Hebrew--he didn't even know Tim knew any Hebrew, shit--Jason slips an arm around his waist and rests his chin on one lean shoulder. "Gonna light it?" he says, and yeah, Captain Obvious, here.
Tim naturally shoots him a sarcastic look with an eye roll. "No, I'm gonna hang garland on it." But then he sobers again, and moves to light the center candle. "Bruce gave it to me two years ago, to try to help me out of my funk after Kon and... and, well, I never used it," he shrugs with his free shoulder. "Figured now might be a good time, considering."
"Yeah," Jason nods slightly, tightening his grip around Tim's waist. He knows the basic story is all about miracles, and it's pretty clear they could use one right now. It's also a hell of a miracle that they're all even there, with Dick annoying Damian across the room and Alfred directing the decorating. A year ago... Heh, there's that line of thought again. All of this is a miracle, even if it took Bruce disappearing for it to happen.
"So, what's next?" he asks as they stand together in quiet observation of the flame as it flickers and really takes hold, growing higher and brighter.
"Well, I missed the first night, so I have to light two candles with the Shamash. Already said the blessings, so all that's left is the lighting."
"Okay."
Jason keeps his hold around Tim as the younger man takes the center candle from its place and uses it to light the two candles at the far right, replacing it afterward. He watches the infant flames flicker and grow as the other had, then sees their warm, shimmering reflection in the window, just as it's really getting dark outside. Catching Tim's gaze in the glass, he gives him a small smile, and feels the gentle touch of an unexpected hand at the small of his back.
"It's beautiful, Tim," Dick says, sliding up next to them, Damian coming around the other side to glare at the Menorah, as he has everything else today, and Alfred behind the boy with a hand on his shoulder to stay any potential comments from the peanut gallery.
It's more of a family than Jason's ever had in one place at one time, more of a statement of loyalty and determination and love than he's ever seen or felt, and the sudden seeming enormity of it hits him so hard, squeezes his chest with such an iron grip, that he has to look back at the flickering reflections in the window, the light warm and welcoming, as he nuzzles into Tim's neck and twists a hand into the front of his shirt. Miracles, definitely.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Characters/Pairing: Jason/Tim, Dick, Alfred, Damian
Rating: PG
Word Count: 960
Prompt: For my DCU FFA claim: flame; For my 50 Darkfics claim: candle; For the 2009 DCU Free For All Winter Holidays Challenge: Candles; For bradygirl_12's 2009 DCU Fic/Art Glitter Winter Holidays Challenge: glitter (Ficcish multitasking FTW! \O/)
Summary: While decorating the Christmas Tree at the Manor, Tim observes a different tradition, and Jason thinks about the ways things have changed for all of them.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: Takes place a while after Come Undone, in my 'verse where Jason is Batman and Tim is his Robin. No canon need apply. Also, I'm not even Jewish, so I don't even know what. I guess my Tim and Jason muses are finally talking to me again. :p
A Light in the Window
Halfway into helping decorate the Christmas tree in the living room at the Manor--a modestly-sized spruce, this first year with all the boys back in the house--Jason still can't quite believe any of this is real. Last year this time, he hadn't spoken to either Dick or Tim in months, hadn't seen Alfred in much longer, and had done everything in his power to outright avoid Bruce for what had felt like an entire lifetime. There wasn't so much as an ounce of hope that any of that would change, and no one could've predicted things would unfold as they have in the intervening time. Hell, at that point, Jason was still shaking off the last his little trip through the Multiverse with Donna and Kyle. All this here, now, was beyond his wildest dream--nightmare?--back then.
Which isn't to say he'd rather be somewhere else. Maybe last year he would've, all things considered, but ever since Bruce... disappeared, and since taking up the cowl himself, he's simply felt different. Been different.
Alfred might say he's found himself, had a change of heart. That might be true. Stranger things have happened, anyway.
Like him and Tim. Not in a million years would he have figured his hateful-loathing-spiteful relationship with the Baby Bat could be anything other than just that. After that night in the showers a few months ago, well, things have just changed. 'Better' doesn't even begin to describe it.
And speaking of his partner...
Tearing himself away from his contemplation and the sparklingly lit tree as he finishes hanging a silver snowflake on a high branch, Jason turns to seek out Tim to see if he can't drag him under that mistletoe Dick hung up earlier in the afternoon.
But the younger Bat isn't around.
"Hey, Alfred," he asks as he snags a fresh gingerbread cookie from the tray just brought in, "seen Tim lately?"
"I believe he went upstairs several minutes ago. Here, don't get crumbs on the rug," the older man finishes, passing a napkin and looking somehow annoyed and amused at the same time.
Jason takes the napkin with a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Sorry," he murmurs, turning away again, and that's when Tim walks back into the living room, a flat, wooden box held carefully in his hands. Jay pauses for a moment as Tim crosses the room to the large window facing out toward the thin treeline and the ocean beyond. He's never seen the box before, and his brother seems awfully serious about whatever it is he's got.
Snarfing his cookie, he keeps his distance and watches Tim open the box and pull out--
A Hanukkah Menorah. Of course.
Jay doesn't think much of religion, beyond the usual Christmas trappings and chocolate eggs at Easter time, so he hasn't really discussed anything with Tim. He doesn't even know when Hanukkah is, really. And that suddenly strikes him as damn sad.
Stepping close to Tim after a few moments spent watching him set the Menorah up on the table by the window and say a few prayers in Hebrew--he didn't even know Tim knew any Hebrew, shit--Jason slips an arm around his waist and rests his chin on one lean shoulder. "Gonna light it?" he says, and yeah, Captain Obvious, here.
Tim naturally shoots him a sarcastic look with an eye roll. "No, I'm gonna hang garland on it." But then he sobers again, and moves to light the center candle. "Bruce gave it to me two years ago, to try to help me out of my funk after Kon and... and, well, I never used it," he shrugs with his free shoulder. "Figured now might be a good time, considering."
"Yeah," Jason nods slightly, tightening his grip around Tim's waist. He knows the basic story is all about miracles, and it's pretty clear they could use one right now. It's also a hell of a miracle that they're all even there, with Dick annoying Damian across the room and Alfred directing the decorating. A year ago... Heh, there's that line of thought again. All of this is a miracle, even if it took Bruce disappearing for it to happen.
"So, what's next?" he asks as they stand together in quiet observation of the flame as it flickers and really takes hold, growing higher and brighter.
"Well, I missed the first night, so I have to light two candles with the Shamash. Already said the blessings, so all that's left is the lighting."
"Okay."
Jason keeps his hold around Tim as the younger man takes the center candle from its place and uses it to light the two candles at the far right, replacing it afterward. He watches the infant flames flicker and grow as the other had, then sees their warm, shimmering reflection in the window, just as it's really getting dark outside. Catching Tim's gaze in the glass, he gives him a small smile, and feels the gentle touch of an unexpected hand at the small of his back.
"It's beautiful, Tim," Dick says, sliding up next to them, Damian coming around the other side to glare at the Menorah, as he has everything else today, and Alfred behind the boy with a hand on his shoulder to stay any potential comments from the peanut gallery.
It's more of a family than Jason's ever had in one place at one time, more of a statement of loyalty and determination and love than he's ever seen or felt, and the sudden seeming enormity of it hits him so hard, squeezes his chest with such an iron grip, that he has to look back at the flickering reflections in the window, the light warm and welcoming, as he nuzzles into Tim's neck and twists a hand into the front of his shirt. Miracles, definitely.
~*~*~*~