fliesbynight (fliesbynight) wrote in newalliance, @ 2015-12-06 19:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | batman, damian wayne, nightwing |
Who: Dick Grayson, open to Bat manor residents and flyby's, npc Alfred.
When: December 3rd, 2015 (back a bit)
Where: Wayne Manor
What: Dick is being all about the holidays this year.
Rating: PG likely
It didn't make too much sense, of course, that Dick needed to spend so much time at home (because no matter what, Wayne Manor was home to him). Yet ever since Halloween, he was. He was only sleeping at his apartment in Bludhaven if he had a back-to-back shift. Otherwise he was driving back and forth on his bike, despite the weather and cold, and crashing in his old bedroom, snoring away, eating whatever vittles Alfred put in front of him, and then hurrying off to his next shift.
Of course, that was after he was able to go to work. The fear toxin had compromised him, but of course he'd not been abandoned to the street's mercy. As soon as Scarecrow was apprehended, he'd simply found somewhere to hide and kept his hand firmly in his mouth and waited. When he'd woken up, he was at home, Alfred tending to him in between the 'episodes'. He felt a little embarrassed. Damian had been witness to it. One time he'd woken up to Dinah firmly telling him that Bruce was not kicking him out (Dick had apparently thought he was twelve again in one of his nightmares), and then there was Bruce, steadfast and quiet, keeping him grounded with his sheer presence. Dick had offered apologies. No one had really accepted them, because there wasn't much to apologize for, and no one really complained when he hung about much more than usual.
Besides, there was a distinct advantage to Dick being around. Alfred had that much more help decorating.
And really, when there was an adult acrobatic monkey in the house, decorating all the trees was pretty easy, even the outside ones. So Dick came in out of the cold and threw his scarf and coat in the vague direction of the couch (the gloves didn't quite make it), left first one boot then the other trailing after, and finally was in just his long sleeved t-shirt and jeans and socks at the kitchen bar. Here he cheerfully told Alfred the lights were hung and wiggled his fingers greedily toward the offered mug of cocoa with its thick stack of whip cream on top.
His due payment of course for all his cheery assistance.
He picked up the offered spoon. "What else is left?" Because of course if there was any decor left, he was going to eagerly help put it up. Bruce couldn't escape the manor being decked out while Dick was home.