#stepdad!au

His baby son is absolutely transfixed. His blue eyes, which are always so intense, locked on the ornament. Tiny hands raise up, hoping to touch and hold, and Kon carefully lowers the ornament into the palm of his son's too small hand. But chubby fingers are stretched out and eager, and when one hand fails to take hold, Ethan grabs it instead between his tiny hands.  

"It has to go on the tree, sweetheart." Kon murmurs when Ethan raises the bauble to his mouth so he can suck on it like all babies want to do.

The boy turns his head to look up at Kon and blinks at his dad, as if to ask why? It's eerie, how very intense Ethan can be sometimes. A baby only eight months old shouldn't look so incredibly aware of what is really going on around him, but then what else could one expect from Timothy Drake-Wayne's son?

Kon looks over at Tim and sighs, amused, when the expensive camera in his husband's hands makes a whirring sound as Tim snaps a series of photos.

"Think you got enough photos, Picasso?"

"Picasso specialized in painting and sculpting," Tim replies, smirking as he snaps one more photo before lowering the camera onto the couch, "And not photography."

"Whatever, man, it's all the same to me." Kon laughs.

"Heathen." Tim murmurs with a smile. He lowers himself to the floor and crawls forward, smile widening into a grin, when Ethan begins to notice his approach. His son stares at his movements, but makes no sound when Tim comes closer and closer.

Kon carefully takes the bauble from Ethan when his son expresses a renewed interest in shoving the thing into his mouth. When there's no kind of displeased whine or squeal, Kon's shoulders slump, his lips forming a thin line, and he quietly hangs the ornament's string of gold over one of the tree's branches.

"Hello, baby," Tim says, voice gentle, "Can you say daddy for me? How about dada?"

The baby remains silent, pouty mouth closed and lips unmoving. Ethan simply stares up at his dad, gaze curious.

Tim and Kon share a look. The obvious concern in Tim's stormy eyes make Kon's heart ache.

"All the books say he should be trying to say something by now," there's a heartbreaking kind of quiver in Tim's voice, "He's not even making any sounds, Conner. It's not normal."  

Leaning over, Ethan trapped between them, Kon nuzzles Tim's cheek. "I know," he whispers against Tim's skin, "But we're not gonna worry about that now. It's our first Christmas with him, and we should appreciate that he's even here."

Tim nods, and when Kon pulls away there's a shimmering wetness in his husband's eyes that has tears springing to his own.

Making a sound low in his throat, Tim pulls their son towards him. He folds his arms around the baby, as if Ethan is seconds away from disappearing, and buries his nose in Ethan's baby-thin hair. Breathing in, he inhales the scent that is uniquely Ethan and takes comfort in it.

Back when he'd been killed and resurrected, damaged goods no one wanted anymore, Jason doubted he had much room left in his heart for anyone, and now he can't stop loving his family more and more every day.

When the star is up - a little crooked, but he'll fix it when Evette is asleep in her warm bed - Jason spins her around. Her giggles becoming louder, and soon morph into excited squeals. He grins, breathless, when their spinning comes to a slow stop, and there Evette lies, bones heavy and elated, in his arms. She's grinning too, aquamarine eyes glimmering they're so damn happy.

Looking into her eyes, they're so adoring and so trusting, Jason promises himself he'll only ever make her happy.

A loud squeal followed energized laughing breaks the spell. Jason tears his gaze away from Evette, barely has time to move out of the way when his son, Javed or Darin, Jason can never tell, comes running by with his twin hot on his heels.

The boys chase each other around the living room, running in circles, the tinsel they're covered in turning them into figures of red and green. There's a very displeased, "hey!" from Malik when the two little hyperactive boys stumble over wrapping paper and red ribbons. He's sitting cross-legged on the floor with Damian, happily wrapping up presents for the extended family while having a conversation in Arabic that is simply too fast for Jason to catch more than a word or two.

The twins giggle through an apology, but seem intent on continuing their game. Or they would have, if Damian weren't so much faster than them. When one of the boys is scrambling up to get away, Damian is already reaching for him, grabbing the boy and pulling him into his lap. There's a renewed wave of giggles as Damian wraps his arms around the boy, and goes about peppering kisses all over his face. The boy soon begins squealing, resisting only because it makes the game more fun, but loving the attention being showered on him by his baba.

His twin doesn't simply stand there watching for long. Soon Damian has another boy spread over his lap, howling with happy laughter while in his arms.

Evette observes the playing for a minute, curious, before she too begins struggling in Jason's arms, eager to get in on the action. Jason reluctantly lowers her to the floor and watches, still grinning, as she waddles over and lunges herself at Damian and her two brothers.

"Oh, I see how it is!" Jason calls after her. "I'm not even my own princess's favorite!"

Jason's indignation isn't serious and they all know it. There are few things Jason loves more than watching how wonderful Damian is with their kids. He adores seeing the kindness and warmth only they can ever really bring out of his husband and mate.

"Don't worry, Jay," Malik laughs as he comes to stand beside Jason, having given up on wrapping presents while his younger siblings play with their baba, "You're still my favorite."

"I better be, kid." Jason replies, grin broadening so much his cheeks actually begin to ache. He pulls the teen into an embrace and loves how easily Malik melts into his arms, like he'll never get tired of hugging Jason.