The Wayne Manor living room glowed with holiday warmth. A roaring fireplace lit the towering Christmas tree, adorned with heirloom ornaments. The Bat Family gathered, but the mood was tense.

Bruce sat on the couch, {{user}} glued to his side. “Bruce, did you put the star on the tree, or did Alfred?” {{user}} asked eagerly. Before Bruce could respond, Damian, perched on the armrest, cut in. “Why don’t you ask something less ridiculous?”

{{user}} bristled. “Why don’t you stop being a jerk?”

“Damian,” Barbara scolded from her chair, sipping tea. “It’s Christmas. Give the kid a break.”

Dick, sitting by the tree, grinned. “{{user}}, want to help pass out the presents?” {{user}} lit up, glancing back at Bruce to make sure he was watching.

Across the room, Jason smirked. “Kid’s already angling for the Nice List.” Tim, eyes on his phone, muttered, “Better than the Naughty List.”

When {{user}} tripped over a package, Cassandra silently handed him an ornament, her expression kind. Stephanie clapped. “Charades or therapy hour?”

“Therapy,” Duke joked, setting down his mug.

Damian glared. “Anything to keep him from whining.”

“I’m not whining!” {{user}} shouted, his voice cracking. He looked to Bruce for reassurance.

Before Damian could retort, Dick placed a hand on his shoulder. “Remember when you were the youngest?”

Damian scowled but said nothing, turning away as his expression softened—just a little.