Here's an early Christmas fanfiction! This takes place where Bruce is still 'dead'. I tried to make it as canon as possible, I haven't read all of the Batman stories where Dick Grayson was wearing the cowl, though I think I did well to capture the situation. Though, I have constantly read Batman and Robin because Dick and Damian just kick butt.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of DC Comics and Batman. If I did, there would be movies out about Nightwing.

Am I only half the man I want to be?

The more things changed.

Everybody sing.

This is Christmas, and this is home.

Peace on Earth's been a long time coming.

-Curt Smith, This is Christmas

There was always one time of the year where Gotham was not engulfed by the darkness that forever seemed to consume the city. The variety of colored and white Christmas lights made Gotham appear to be inviting. It was the one time of the year where the city's residents could pretend everything was indeed merry and bright. One resident, Dick Grayson, was crouched like a cat at the edge of the roof, taking in the displays of illuminations. The cape fluttered around him as the biting wind reminded him of the oncoming snowstorm later that afternoon.

Dick always enjoyed this time of the year. People were a bit more cheerful, even if some were a bit strained or fake. There were Christmas songs always playing wherever he went, making him feel as if he was in a classic Hallmark movie. He loved the decorations and festivals that Christmas brought. Most importantly, he enjoyed how Christmas always brought his strange, dysfunctional family together.

Family.

Dick's heart squeezed tightly at that word. This would be his first Christmas without Bruce. God, he missed him. He had tried earlier this month to get the bat-family together for the upcoming holiday. He thought it would be a great way to honor Bruce's memory. Bruce would always be smiling on Christmas Day when he was surrounded by his family. It was the one day where everyone could forget the crusade, the endless battle out in the darkness of the night. Somehow, before Dick was taken in by Bruce, Alfred had managed to get the former Batman to abandon his nightly duties on that one day every year.

However, it seemed this year the family would not be together. Tim was off with the Teen Titans and was going to spend Christmas with them. Though, Dick couldn't help but wonder if Tim felt as if Dick had betrayed him by choosing Damian over him to become his Robin, his partner. He knew that Tim would understand in due time, but it hurt not to have his brother home with him for the holidays. Jason had recently broken out of jail and even Dick couldn't find him. Barbara was heading up north to visit family members with her father, Jim Gordon. After that, one by one, the rejections came in, and they all had a common theme: 'Sorry, I already made plans'.

Maybe the reminder that Bruce was gone was something the others did not want to hanging over them on Christmas Day. Somehow, Dick found himself starting to become okay with it. Maybe it was best to have a small family gathering with just Damian and Alfred.

Dick closed his eyes as he exhaled softly.

Damian.

He suddenly remembered the lack of Robin next to his side. Earlier that evening, Dick had brought up the subject of Christmas to Damian and suggested perhaps starting their own tradition. The kid, with nearly everything, thought the idea preposterous. Their argument replayed in his mind:

"Why must we celebrate this ridiculous frivolous holiday?"

Dick tried to ignore how the scornful frown and the defiant stance of Damian's resembled so much of Bruce. He really was Bruce's son. It brought another pang in his heart.

"It's Christmas, Damian. Yes, it is a cheesy holiday, but it's also a family tradition. Did you ever celebrate it with your mother?"

He should have known that was a stupid question to ask. The ex-assassin crossed his arms.

"Tt. Yes, the Al Ghuls are known for celebrating Christmas. We get together to drink eggnog and open presents every year." He scoffed at the adult. "Really, Grayson? You are as dumb as you look. I'm surprised you managed to survive as Batman this long."

Dick ran his fingers through his jet black and looked over at Alfred, silently pleading for help. The butler gave him a tight-lip smile as if to say 'You're on your own'. He sighed and spoke softly at the kid as if his gentle words would disperse Damian's negative attitude.

"Damian. Just give it a chance. You'll enjoy it."

"You said it's a tradition, right? Well, every year around that time, I go out and kill someone. Maybe I'll relieve that tradition this year. Maybe I'll enjoy that."

"Would that someone please be me?"

"Tt. Hilarious."

Dick growled, wanting to pull out his hair in frustration. Geez, was he always this much of a brat to Bruce? And Damian was only ten-years old. He didn't even want to imagine what the kid would be like as a teenager. Maybe it's a good thing Bruce was already in his grave. He ran his hand across his face.

"Christmas is about family, Damian. And you are a part of it."

Then it came. It was as if Dick pulled the pin from the grenade. "Family? I don't have a family. My mother abandoned me. My father is dead. And you say I'm family? Alfred is just my butler. You're just my guardian. You have nothing to do with the Wayne name and you have nothing to do with Al Ghul's. We're not family. I'm only here to reclaim the rightful heir of the Batman cowl."

Dick kept his face stoic, betraying no hint of emotion. He kept his calculating eyes locked on the young boy in front of him.

"Well, if that's how you feel, then I'll train you until you're ready. But with an attitude like that, you'll never claim the cowl because you won't wear it right."

Like a knife cutting through the tension, the clocked suddenly chimed seven times, reminding Dick it was time to head out on patrol. He turned, eagerly wanting to hit the streets and become someone else for a while. He stopped as he noticed Damian following behind him in a huff.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Tt. To get dressed."

"You're staying here tonight, Damian. The last thing I need is be worrying about you. I can't trust to turn my back to you right now."

Damian's face fell. He looked as if someone had killed his dog. Almost immediately, the mask was back in place. He scoffed and turned back, heading toward his room.

As Dick pressed the button for the elevator, he heard the disappointing sigh from Alfred. "I'm not in the mood for your lectures, Alfred."

"Master Richard," Dick headed into the open elevator, turning slightly to look at the man speaking, "you should know better not to take such false words to the heart."

"All I ever was to Bruce was a ward, Alfred. Why shouldn't Damian be the same?"

As the elevator doors shut, Dick managed to catch the shaking of Alfred's head.

The shimmering lights of the rising sun brought Dick out of his memories. He watched as the sunlight stretched itself across the sky, bringing Gotham out of the shadows. He slapped his hand across his face. Yes, he had overreacted. Dick felt as if he was suddenly a teenager again with the hidden anger and the temper tantrums. He took it out on a child, on his little brother, on his partner. What kind of a man was he? Maybe he was taking the lack of family presence a bit harder than he thought. His eyes moved, staring into the rising sun. The orange filled his vision.

He whispered softly. "Damn it, Bruce, what am I supposed to do? I can't do this."

"I pray that you did not spend the whole evening out having a self-pity party, Master Richard."

Dick abruptly turned on his heels, surprised to see Alfred standing behind him, holding out a mug of steaming coffee. How long was he sitting on the penthouse roof for? When did he come back here? He pulled back his cowl, revealing his tired face. His blue eyes appeared to lose its vibrant color.

"I screwed things up with Damian, Alfie." He took the cup, nodding a thanks. "For once, I didn't put myself in his shoes. Every time I hear about his childhood, it makes me hate Talia more, and it makes yearn to give him back the childhood that he lost."

Alfred took a seat next to Dick, taking a sip from his own coffee. Dick blew the steam from his, his thoughts swirling together.

"To hear him say that we're not his family, it makes me feel like a failure, like I didn't reach him."

For some reason, Alfred smiled at this. Dick raised a brow as if demanding to know whatever secret he knew. The butler took a long sip before he spoke. "Quite the contrary, Master Richard. I believe we did, we did reach him." He chuckled as Dick furrowed his eyebrows. "Like you said, you didn't put yourself in his shoes. Look at Master Damian's family. His mother raised him to be the heir of Al Ghuls, to be the rightful heir of Batman's cowl. He met Bruce and realized a life far better than the one he's had; a life of love. Now, Bruce is gone. Master Damian has rejected the notion of family. His mother doesn't care. His father is dead. He's afraid of losing anyone else."

"He's not going to lose me. He's not going to lose us."

"He's a boy, Master Dick. He's an insecure boy who has been constantly rejected over and over from others. Save for you."

An old memory from a couple months ago ran through his head: "I know you wanted me to join the Titans to find some friends, but I already got one here in Gotham. And one is more than enough".

Dick took a long swig of coffee as he stared out into the sun. He smiled softly. "You know, everyone thinks that I become Damian's guardian because it was stated in Bruce's will. The funny thing is, I didn't know about it until I went in to make myself his guardian. I couldn't let Talia take him back. I couldn't let the life Damian chose slip through his fingers."

As Dick looked over at Alfred, he didn't like the thin-lip all-knowing smile.

"You already knew."

"Question is: does Master Damian know this?"

Dick opened his mouth then closed it, mimicking a fish without water. Alfred's smile grew; he turned to look at the sun with Dick.

"Both you and Master Damian have grown close over the last few months. I've seen it. The un-yielding trust and love. Though, I suspect you two are both slowly starting to realize that the relationship you have between each other as brothers is blurred with father and son."

Dick's widened eyes snapped over to Alfred. The man just calmly took another sip. How was it that Alfred knew everything? You couldn't hide anything from the man. No wonder Alfred could easily manipulate anyone in the family. No wonder Alfred was the glue that held them all together. Dick set down his cup and rubbed his hands. "Bruce is Damian's father. I can't take that away from him."

"Master Dick, did Bruce ever take away the memory of your father?"

Dick looked at him and slowly shook his head.

"You saw Bruce as another parental figure in your life. You saw him as another father. Please, don't make the same mistake that Bruce made with you."

How long did it take before Bruce admitted that he saw Dick as a son? For years, Dick felt as if he was simply Bruce's ward, a charity case, even though he knew better. Finally, Dick realized that it didn't matter what the papers said, all it mattered was what their hearts said. Bruce did to him what Dick was currently doing to Damian; making sure they never would dishonor or replace a father's memory.

"I won't, Alfie. Thanks. I was needing that."

Alfred tapped his cup against Dick's. "What are grandfathers for?"

Damian rested his head against the glass window, the coldness reminding him of the snow falling outside the warmth of the car. He closed his eyelids to hide the families out on the street shopping, the fake happiness, and the Christmas decorations. Christmas was nauseating, it was disgusting. All the fake niceness and lovey-dooey crap was repulsing.

Admit it, Damian, a voice from within his head sneered, you like the lovey-dooey crap. You like it when Grayson hugs you or ruffles your hair. You like his affections.

Damian growled at himself within. It was not true. Grayson was only looking out for him because he had to, because Father made him.

"How was your last school day of the year, Master Damian?" Pennyworth's voice called from the front of the car.

Damian opened his eyes and looked at Pennyworth within the rear-view mirror. "It was fine."

The rest of the ride was driven in silence. Damian watched the falling snow cover Gotham in pure whiteness. He pursed his lips in confusion as he realized they were not heading back to the Penthouse. He didn't say anything. After a while, he realized they were heading to the Wayne Manor. What was going on? He could tell Pennyworth was reading his expressions from the mirror so he remained stoic as his mind wrecked havoc with thoughts.

The Wayne Manor looked different basked in the heavy snow as the car approached up the driveway. Damian grabbed his bag as Pennyworth opened the door for him, allowing him to exit the vehicle. He waited for Pennyworth to open the manor's doors. As he did, Damian immediately could smell the aroma of gingerbread and peppermint. He was suddenly embraced by the warmth of the house as Pennyworth shut the door behind him. He only stared as the man took his bag from him.

Pennyworth gave him a smile. "Master Dick is waiting for you in the family room."

Damian took his shoes off and brushed the snow from his jacket before throwing it onto the floor. Slowly, he made his way with caution to the family room. The argument with Grayson still haunted his mind. He had lied. He wanted Christmas. He wanted the cookies, and the presents, and Grayson's famous Christmas Punch that he heard so much about. He wanted it all. He didn't want to force Grayson and Pennyworth to spend Christmas with him. After all, Christmas was about family. He didn't want to admit that he felt they were family. What if they rejected him?

He slowly made his way down the hallway, the aroma becoming over powerful. As he stepped into the family room, he couldn't hold in his gasp. The entire room was decorated with, well, with Christmas spirit. Lights were strung around the border of the room, wrapped around a green tassel. A huge pine tree was in the corner, decorated with bright colored lights. He could smell the pine from where he stood. There was a Christmas song playing in the background which Damian recognized as "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas".

His eyes caught the stockings over the lit fireplace. There were four stockings that were hung, each that separately read: Bruce, Alfred, Dick, and Damian. A figure turned from the tree, and Damian saw that Grayson wearing a stupid Santa hat with a stupid grin on his face.

"Hey, little D! You're just in time."

Damian ventured a bit into the room, still taking it in. He was completely unaware of the utter awe plastered across his face. "In time for what?"

"Tradition! We're going to hang up ornaments on the tree with cheesy Christmas music blasting in the background. Then we're going to make cookies, with Alfie's help because God forbid that we burn them. Then we're going to watch Christmas movies, I recommend starting with Home Alone." Grayson placed a finger on his lips, "What else? What else?"

Damian shook his head as if to shake off the shock. "Wait. Tradition? You used to do this with Father?"

Grayson's grin grew wide. "Bruce? He wouldn't make cookies with me even with Alfred's soul-piercing glare. No, this is our tradition, Damian. We're going to start one."

Damian crossed his arms. "Tt. I thought I told you that Christmas was a ridiculous frivolous holiday?"

"I took that as Damian-speak for Christmas is awesome."

Damian's eyes swept across the room once more. Damn it, Grayson was not going to break through him. Say something insulting, say this is all stupid. "What is that thing on your head all about?"

"Really? You had a chance to criticize anything in this room and you chose my hat? You can do better than that, son."

Suddenly, both Damian and Grayson tensed up as if the older man spoke a taboo word. Their eyes flickered anywhere but each other. Grayson rubbed the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. Why did Grayson say that? What did he mean? It was probably a slip from his tongue. Grayson seems to ramble so much that he probably doesn't even catch on to what he's saying. As Damian looked back at him, Grayson's nervousness suddenly disappeared. He stood up taller as if taking a strong stand. He seemed to have made his mind up about something.

"Damian, I don't ever want to replace Bruce's memory, and I never want to replace him in your heart as your father. You can always forever view me as your older brother, as a guardian, and I'll be okay with that. Just know that to me, little D, you're many things. You're my partner in crime, my mentee, my little brother, and my son. You, me, Alfred, we're family. Nothing will ever change that."

Damian wiped the tears from his eyes, blaming it internally from the dust from somewhere. He was not going to show emotions. He's an ex-assassin. He's killed before for crying out loud. He's Robin. Emotions were for weaklings. A hand ruffling through his hair broke him out of his thoughts. He watched as Grayson…no, as Dick kneeled down, making himself eye-level with him. Damian couldn't understand what this warm feeling was that was spreading through his chest, whatever it was, it felt good.

"I love you, Damian," Dick said as he pulled Damian into a hug.

The mask broke and Damian buried himself into Dick's shoulder. This is what love is. This was a brother. This was a father. This was a man that loved him no matter what. As they broke through, Damian angrily wiped the annoying tears from his face. Though, he was glad to see that some had slipped out from Dick's. What an emotional man.

"What do you we say, we decorate the tree and make it look as ugly as possible?"

"If you want it to be ugly, it'll be easier decorating you."

Dick pretended as if he was stabbed in the chest, "Ouch, little D, that hurt."

His guardian pushed him playfully before heading back over to where he was before. Damian watched as Dick opened a box that was on the couch, rumbling through it. He felt compelled to say it, but he wasn't ready. He couldn't.

"Damian?"

He looked up at Dick; the man's concerned blue eyes were locked on him. Damian gave a genuine smile as he walked up to the adult, knowing what to say to match what he felt within. "Merry Christmas, Dick."

Dick's eyes widened before his face relaxed into a content look. "Merry Christmas, Damian."

Damian grabbed an ornament and they began to decorate the tree. After a while, Dick ran out and forced Alfred into the room to join. At the end, the tree was cluttered with so many ornaments that Damian feared that the tree would eventually tilt and crash onto the floor. They would later make cookies where Alfred banned Dick from oven duty as he kept burning those he watched over.

After dinner, they would curl up together with their cookies and hot chocolate and watch Home Alone. Damian could see why Dick liked it. A few days later, it was Christmas. They had Dick's Christmas Punch. They went out in the snow. They volunteered at Wayne's Boys Orphanage. They came home and had a big dinner.

Though, there was a hole in their heart that Bruce had left, Damian was content with those who surrounded him. For the first time, he finally felt as if he belonged. It was his first Christmas with his strange, dysfunctional family.