Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.

A/N: I had an idea, decided to write it, and then let it sit unfinished on my computer for a few days. I hope you like it anyway.

-Ana Uzumaki

.: "On Thanksgiving I will stop to give thanks that my family is safe and healthy, especially because I realize that, following the :.

.: tragedies of this year, it is all too real a possibility that they might not have been. :.

.: ―Bobby Jindal :.

A Bat Family Thanksgiving, A One Shot

Location: Wayne Manor

Date: 22 November Time: 17:23

"Grayson, do I really have to participate in this despicable excuse for a holiday?

"Yes, Damian."

"Tt. It serves no purpose other than to commiserate Indians and pilgrims for gathering food for the winter. Which, may I remind you, they were required to do anyway or risk starvation. The pilgrims ended up slathering them in the end anyway."

Dick sighs and pulls off the tan oven mitt with his right hand before using it to help pull the other one off his left. He glances down at the goofy looking turkeys printed on the material, each wearing a red, orange or a yellow apron, debating how he can explain this in the simplest way possible. "Thanksgiving is just that, Dami. It's giving thanks for what you have been given," he answers finally. Satisfied with his answer he turns his attention to the stove where he is juggling several pots and pans.

"Tt. That nickname is infuriating, Grayson," the dark haired boy frowns, hearing the front door open. "Drake's here," he announces before moving to head downstairs to work, once more, on some much-needed repairs on Batmobile's engine.

"Make sure you're back up here in time for dinner to start. Don't make me have to come and get you," Dick threatens eyeing his retreating figure sternly.

Damian waves his hand dismissively, finding his threats to be almost comical as he heads for the study, the surest way to get to the cave almost immediately.

"You're doing the best you can Master Dick," Alfred sighs only guessing how much Bruce's absence is affecting the boys of the house. The strain is clear on Dick's face even if he's trying his best to hide the overpowered feelings surrounding his father figures absence

The young acrobat hangs his head as he pulls open the oven door, the heat quickly rushing to his face. Glancing at the near golden bird, he closes the oven quickly deciding it could use another half hour or so.

"I hope so," he mumbles quietly as he heads out to great his other brother.

At the door, Tim wipes his shoes on the welcome mat noticing right away that Alfred must have changed it to something more festive. Instead of the usual welcome plastered across the front, a more appropriate basket filled with pinecones and old bundles of Indian corn is ingrained into the mat.

"Uh… I'm here," he calls out to know one in particular as he sets a small store bought box on the table. He pulls off a pair of trendy gloves he is borrowing from his college roommate and sets them down before unwrapping the muted white and gray scarf from his neck exposing the dark red turtleneck underneath. Gingerly, he hangs it on the coat rack.

"Timmy," Dick greets, a huge smile lighting his face as he pulls him into a hug, earning a quiet oomph from the previous Robin. "I'm glad you came," he tells him pulling away, genuinely pleased to see him.

"Same here Dick," he responds, feeling a bit guilty for almost deciding to cancel last minute. Their conversation drops into a small silence making Tim uncomfortable. "Pie," he announces moving to retrieve the cardboard box off the table. "I brought pie," he responds feeling awkward as he hands him the box.

Dick looks at it and then tugs at the string freeing the sides of the box. "This is great. Thanks Timmy."

"It's not much," he sighs scratching the side of his head. "And it isn't homemade or anything. It's pumpkin," he gestures, motioning towards the obvious label on the box and fall-like leaf pattern on the center of the pie.

"It's traditional. Traditional is good. Damian's never celebrated Thanksgiving so I'm trying to teach him the meaning of it," he explains as he signals for him to follow.

As Tim falls into step behind him, he tunes out Dick's near constant babble realizing the manor really hasn't changed in his absence. The same pictures line the wall and the same statues pigment the hallway as he leads him to the dining room. A twinge of longing pulls at his stomach but he tries his best to ignore it. The Robin may have changed but the scenery hasn't, he notes sadly.

"So what's been up with you?" he asks setting the pie down near the end of the table. Several spots have been clearly marked out. A large red placemat is in the center where the turkey will be placed when it comes out of the oven. Several smaller orange and gold one's line the pine green tablecloth outlining where the smaller dishes will go.

"H-Huh?" He stutters clearing not having paid attention to him.

"I said, what's been yup with you? How's college and-" He quickly trails off deciding to go with a general approach rather than killing the mood by bringing up the search for Bruce. "Everything else," he finishes.

"It's good," he answers avoiding the subject of college. One of the minor reasons he decided to come was to take a much-needed break from his piling load of schoolwork. Usually it's not too much but, his responsibility as Red Robin as well as the coursework from his classes toppled with his tireless search for Bruce… Everything is a bit overwhelming at the movement. "As far as other stuff goes not much has come up," he admits, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Maybe that's what bothers Tim most. All of his effort thus far has been without result. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot find anything clueing him to the whereabouts of their missing father figure.

"I'm sure something will turn up," Dick tells him, giving him a weak smile.

"Sure," he nods trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Uh… Do you need any help in the kitchen?"

"Yeah, actually. That'll be great Timmy," he smiles taking his hand and pulling him into the kitchen.

Almost an hour later, Alfred brings out the last dish setting down on the remaining potholder as Dick goes to get Damian. He calls him from the hall knowing full and well that he heard him. Several minutes later and quite a few disgruntled Tt's later, Damian heads upstairs not bothering to say hi to his other brother as he goes to wash the oil and grime off his hands. Tim ignores him quietly shaking his head as he finds a seat at the table wedged between the sweet potatoes and green beans.

"Is that everyone?" He wonders looking around the table as Damian, Dick and Alfred take their seats.

Dick sighs and glances at the remaining empty spots at the table. "Bab's is spending Thanksgiving with her Dad and will be over later for desert, Steph is out on patrol and is also ganna meet up with us and Jason…. Well, Jason is doing whatever it is Jason does."

Tim nods in acknowledgement. Jason is quite the wild card these days. The echoing of the knifes echoes through the room as Alfred sharpens the cutting knife.

"Tt. With any luck he decided to leave Gotham for good this time," the young Robin announces as Alfred hands him a plate.

"No such luck," Jason chuckles making his presence known. He gets up from his place against the door and comes into the light of the room.

"When did you get here?" Tim groans, waving his hand in front of his nose as Jason walks by him.

"Jason," Dick grins, ignoring Tim's reaction as he stands up and almost immediately pulls him into a hug. A few threats and mild curses escape Jason's mouth but he doesn't make any move to get out of his grip. "You came!"

"Yeah. Yeah. Don't kid yourself. I'm only here because there's free food and no Bruce," he mumbles pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table.

"Um… I'm not an expert or anything, but shouldn't we say Grace or something?" Tim frowns, blushing slightly as he looks around at the members of his family.

"Great idea," Alfred smiles eying both Damian and Jason who turned to glare at their brother. "Who wants to do the honors? Jason?"

"Hell no," he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Master Timothy?"

Tim blushes shaking his head as he stares at his plate.

"I'll do it," Dick answers, clearing his throat as he folds his fingers together.

"Very well," Alfred nods as he hands out the last plate of food. Across the table, Jason makes a face mocking his older brother as he mirrors his behavior. Beside him, Tim and Damian do the same, excluding the mocking part. Instead, Tim remains silent and closes his eyes and another Tt, is muttered by the youngest member of the Bat Family to date.

"On this Thanksgiving Day, I wanna thank each of my brothers for being here even though we don't always get along," he begins. Tim gives Jason a sideways glace before going back to closing his eyes again. "I hope we can be thankful for the people around us and the food in our bellies. Thank you for the members you have returned to us and-"

"And bring Bat's home," Jason adds almost so low that Dick barley hears him from his spot at the head of the table.

"Amen," he nods a smile playing on the edge of his lips as he picks up a fork.

"Amen," the remaining boys echo before digging into their respective plates.

"Someone hand me the stuffing and bread. Someone hand me bread."