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"You're as cuddly as a cactus,
you're as charming as an eel."
- You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch; Thurl Ravenscroft
Jason was starting to regret ever promising Barbara—alongside his brothers—that he’d help out with the library’s annual Christmas gathering. When he’d agreed to play a part in the festivities, he’d envisioned himself reading stories to kids or handing out hot chocolate. But no. Of course that wasn’t what Babs had in mind.
As Dick went on yet another tirade in an effort to “motivate” him, Jason rolled his eyes, scowling.
“Come on, Little Wing! This’ll be fun. And it’s for the Alley kids, remember?”
“That has nothing to do with the fucking fact that you want me to wear this bullshit,” Jason snapped back, lifting the gaudy Santa Claus costume out of its plastic packaging like it might bite him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Tim trying (and failing) not to laugh. The second Jason shot him a sharp look, the snickers evaporated, replaced by a wide-eyed deer-in-headlights expression.
“Come on, Jay! Tim and I’ll be your elves! This is going to be so fun!” Dick practically bounced off the walls like a caffeinated child.
Jason dropped the horrendous costume back on the table, glaring at it. Absolutely fucking not. He wasn’t about to humiliate himself like this—not even for the orphans, street kids, and struggling families. Why couldn’t he just read a few stupid stories and call it a day?
“Babs should’ve given him a Grinch costume instead,” Tim, the little shit, piped up from the sidelines.
“Fuck off, Baby Bird, or I’ll throw your Nintendo Switch out the window,” Jason growled with a sharp smile.
Tim opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, horrified. “No, Jason!” he whined, and Jason rolled his eyes at his tone.
He was tracing the seam of the costume again, contemplating his next move, when Alfred swept into the room. “Masters, I shall drive you to the library shortly, as I have business in the city. I trust you’re all nearly ready?”
The butler’s sharp eyes flicked over to Jason and the costume in his hands. “Ah, dressing as Santa this year, Master Jason? How gracious of you. I distinctly recall you telling me about attending the library’s Christmas festivities in your youth. It’s heartwarming to see you taking up the mantle this year. Quite commendable, my boy. Once you’re all ready, we’ll depart.”
With that, Alfred swept back out of the room. Jason stood there, teeth clenched, realizing he’d just lost this round. There was no going back now. Fuck.
“Don’t you dare say anything,” he growled at his brothers before stomping off to change. He wasn’t even angry about the situation, not really—he was just miffed that he’d been outmaneuvered by a butler who might as well be his grandfather.
After fussing in front of the mirror for longer than he’d care to admit, Jason finally trudged into the hallway. As expected, Dick was already preening in his ridiculous green elf costume, and Tim stood nervously adjusting his red one. Alfred waited patiently nearby.
Before Dick could open his mouth, Tim elbowed him hard, earning a yelp. Alfred gave Jason a small, approving smile. “You look splendid, Master Jason. Now, shall we?”
Splendid was not the word Jason would’ve chosen. The top half of the costume was tight across his chest and shoulders, while the pants were so baggy they needed one of his belts just to stay up. The fake beard and wig itched like hell, and he was already counting down the minutes until he could rip them the fuck off. He’d swapped the ridiculous costume shoes for his nicest black combat boots, but that was about the only consolation. No one could call this “splendid.” At least Roy wasn’t here to witness this catastrophe—that would be game over. He could kiss his chance with the older man goodbye.
The car ride to the library was mercifully short. Dick spent most of it excitedly texting Barbara from the passenger seat while Tim, sitting beside Jason, fidgeted nervously.
“You good?” Jason asked, flicking an unruly strand of fake white hair out of his face.
Tim shrugged, chewing his lip. “I just… don’t want to mess up, you know?”
Jason softened, offering a small smile. “You won’t. Just follow mine and Dick’s lead, okay?”
When they arrived, Jason could see the library was packed from the outside. Memories of coming here with his mom before she died surfaced unbidden, and he pushed them down as they made their way in. The minute they entered, the buzz of excited children’s voices filled the air. Barbara, smiling brightly from her makeshift stage, waved them over.
“It seems you’ve all been very good this year!” she announced. “Thank you for visiting, Santa!” She gestured to three stools on the stage.
Jason barely had time to process before Dick shot him a look, yanking him out of his thoughts. “Good day, my children,” Jason said in his best attempt at a jovial Santa voice, waving stiffly as he walked toward the stage. “My elves and I thank you for this… uh, kind invitation.”
Dick elbowed him with a grin that screamed you’re terrible at this, earning a grumbled, “Fuck off, Dickhead—I mean, Ho, Ho, Ho!” under Jason’s breath.
Thankfully, Barbara took the reins, explaining the day’s schedule: a Q&A, story time, and finally, pictures with the kids. Every child would get a small chocolate treat and a book sponsored by Bruce, plus a polaroid photo to take home—so that they’d have a picture to remember this day by, no matter their financial situation.
The Q&A was awkward but manageable. The kids asked everything from their favorite colors to how Mrs. Claus was holding up without Santa at home. The Mrs. Claus question caught Jason off guard, sending Dick, Tim, and even Barbara into barely contained laughter as he stumbled through an answer. Despite his fumbling, the kids stayed engaged and excited. It was a goddamn miracle.
Story time, however, was where Jason found his rhythm. Seeing the wonder in the children’s faces as he read was… something else. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was already planning to ask Barbara if he could do this more often—preferably without the godforsaken costume.
The photo session was tedious, but the kids’ joy made it worthwhile. Many of them brought drawings or eagerly shared stories about their families and Christmas wishes. Each child got a chance to sit on one of their laps, and the happiness on their faces tugged at something deep in Jason’s chest. Almost made him tear up. Almost.
By the time the event wrapped up, the kids were reluctant to part ways, but Dick handled it with hugs, Jason offered hair ruffles, and Tim gave fist bumps. Once back in Alfred’s car, Jason viciously ripped off the wig and fake beard, sighing in relief. Scratchy demon-spawn gone.
He’d done his good deed for the next five years. If any of his business associates ever found out about this, they’d drag his street cred through mud.
His moment of peace was shattered by Dick’s voice from the passenger seat: “I took a picture, and Roy says he loves your look, Jaybird.”
Jason froze, glaring daggers as Dickhead, the traitorous bastard, winked, far too smug.
Snarling, Jason launched himself forward, snatching the phone out of Dick’s hands as Alfred shouted for them to behave.
He should’ve stayed dead. Merry Christmas his ass.