Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bruce didn’t usually go to the mall.

He was a busy man. He ran a multi-million dollar company. He protected Gotham at night. He tried to sleep sometimes, though Alfred liked to remind him he didn’t do it nearly enough.

He was, however, also a father now, which is why he had ended up in the mall in the first place.

“You will take Master Dick to meet the mall Santa today.” Alfred said, eyebrow raised and Dick’s coat already in his arms. “He deserves a normal childhood memory. One that does not include rooftops, explosions, or thematically questionable villains.” Bruce tried to think of an excuse, any excuse, but one look from Alfred had him caving immediately. 

There was no winning against Alfred.

So, at eleven thirty in the morning, Bruce was walking into the mall with a bouncing Dick attached to his hand.

“Bruce!” Dick said with excitement. “Are we going to see Santa first? Please say yes. Please please please.”

“We will.” Bruce said. “That is the entire purpose of being here.” Dick grinned.

“Well, yeah. But sometimes you have a plan and then stuff goes boom and we have to do something else.” Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Nothing will explode today.” The young boy nodded solemnly. 

Stepping into the mall was an… experience. It was bustling with activity, December meaning a month of shopping for gifts. There were also so many decorations strung around the building that it had Bruce wincing slightly. Dick was in awe.

“Whoa! This place looks like Santa’s house exploded. In a good way.” Bruce hid his snort, eyes scanning for what they had come to do. He looked down the hall and saw a very long line of people winding around fake candy canes and cardboard snowmen. At the very end of that line sat the large red chair. He exhaled.

“That is the line.” Dick stared.

“Bruce,” He whispered, “I think this is going to be the hardest mission of our lives.” Bruce just exhaled again and moved forward towards the line.

“Stay close to me. Don’t wander, I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.” Dick tightened the hand that was holding onto Bruce, following him as he moved forward.

“Bruce, can I tell Santa what I want for Christmas? Or is he not the real Santa? I can’t tell. Alfred says the real Santa is very busy right now.” Bruce looked at the man in the red suit. He looked tired. His beard was fake. His belly was a pillow. But he had a kind smile, and seemed to genuinely be enjoying taking photos with the kids.

“He may not be the real Santa, but he works for him. So yes, you can tell him what you want.” Dick nodded.

The line moved slowly. Very slowly. Bruce thought he could probably run home, patrol the city, and return before the line moved more than a few feet. Dick, however, had enough energy for both of them and then some. He looked at every decoration. He pointed out every tiny detail. He asked questions constantly.

“Bruce, how many presents does Santa deliver in one night?” (Millions, Dick.)

“Bruce, do reindeer really fly?” (Of course. It’s how Santa can reach everyone in one night.)

“Bruce, why does that elf over there look angry? Did someone steal his cookies?” The elf did indeed look upset. The teenager in the green costume was slouched in a folding chair and scrolling on his phone.

“Maybe he wants to go home.” Bruce said. Silently, he felt camaraderie with the poor teenager unfortunate enough to be stuck in the costume. He, too, wished he could be at home instead of in the crowd of screaming children.

“Oh. That makes sense. I’d be tired too if I had to help Santa all day.”

The line crept forward another two feet. Dick sighed.

“Bruce, I think I’m aging. Like, right now. I’m gonna be thirteen by the time we get to Santa.”

“You’re eight.”

“And I’ll be thirteen by the time we’re at the front.” He pouted for all of two seconds before something else caught his attention.

“Bruce! Look! A snow globe bigger than me!” He darted a step away before Bruce’s hand gently tightened.

“Dick. Stay close, please.”

“Right, sorry.” He bounced on his toes. “There’s just so much stuff to see! I want to see it all! Did you ever visit Santa when you were a kid?” Bruce blinked. He hadn’t expected the question. 

“No. My father was usually working and my mother wasn’t fond of crowds.” Dick frowned, before perking back up quickly.

“Well, you're doing it now with me so that counts!” A small smile formed on Bruce’s lips.

They stepped forward. Seven families left.

Dick’s hyperactivity and fidgeting slowed. His grip got a little tighter. His eyes were fixed on Santa’s chair now, a nervous expression settling on his face. Bruce noticed.

“Dick?” He asked.

“Huh?”

“You’re suddenly quiet.” His gaze focused on the boy.

“I’m always quiet.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m usually quiet.”

Another eyebrow. Dick scrunched up his nose.

“Fine, I’m never quiet. But I’m thinking, so you gotta be quiet!”

“About what?” Bruce watched as Dick hesitated, eyes darting between Santa and himself.

“What if I ask for the wrong thing?” Dick hunched his shoulders slightly. “What if what I want is too big for Santa? What if it’s something he can’t bring?” Bruce knelt down so that Dick could look at him in his eyes.

“Dick, Santa listens. That’s his job. And whatever you ask for, he’ll hear it. Even if it isn’t something he can put under a tree. You don’t have to worry.” I’ll get you anything you want was said in his head. Dick stared at him for a long moment before nodding.

“...Okay.”

The rest of the wait wasn’t too bad. There were less screaming children at the front of the line, as they were finally able to see Santa in front of them. Finally, after what felt like forever waiting, it was their turn.

“Come on, Bruce!” Bruce smiled softly as Dick climbed onto Santa’s lap, chattering excitedly. 

“And what do you want for Christmas, young man?” The mall Santa asked Dick. Bruce watched as Dick leaned in to whisper.

“I just want to have a happy Christmas with my new family. I don’t need any gifts.” Dick’s whisper carried to Bruce’s ears, and he melted. The mall Santa’s face softened at Dick’s words.

“Well young man, I can certainly promise you that.” The resulting beam from Dick was blinding. “Now, how about we take a photo.” Dick started to nod before stopping abruptly. 

“Wait! Bruce, you gotta be in the photo! It can be both of our first photos with Santa!” Bruce hesitated.

“You heard the boy.” Santa waved at him merrily. “You’re never too old for Santa.” Bruce felt incredibly out of place, but the look of joy that Dick shot him made it worth it.

“Smile!”

Dick didn’t stop talking about it the whole car ride home. And, as soon as they had made it home, he started all over again for Alfred. The resulting photo was hung on the fridge as soon as Alfred saw it, smiling softly at Bruce once it was up.

“You did good, my dear boy.” 

And Bruce smiled back.