December 5

It starts like this.

"Hey, Bart," Jay Garrick says one morning with that very particular tone, "come here for a second."

Bart knows that tone. Bart kind of hates that tone because that's Jay's let's-have-a-serious-discussion tone and, from Bart's experience, those tend to end with Jay a bit sad and Bart a bit mad and absolutely no one actually happy with having said conversation.

Bart wonders if sprinting to the zeta is still a viable option.

Probably not. Jay would just wait until whenever he came back.

For a speedster, Jay is surprisingly patient.

Bart sits at the table. "Yeah?"

Jay gives him a small smile. "It's nothing bad, kiddo, I only wanted to ask about your Christmas plans?"

Bart blinks.

"...my what?"

"I know you'll have the Titans party Christmas Eve and, well, I understand you're not big on celebrating." Jay gives a slight grimace, looking down at the coffee in his hands. "I just thought after you were gone all day last year, we should try to make some plan. We're the only family we've got, you know?"

Bart….Bart has absolutely no idea what Jay is talking about.

"Now, I'm not asking for anything big," Jay continues. "I know you'd rather be visiting with your friends. The rest of the original JSA normally tries to throw something together for the holidays so you don't need to worry about me. Maybe you and I could do something small like have Christmas morning together. Will that work, kiddo?"

"Um, sure," Bart says, still feeling off balance.

Jay's smile widens like Bart said something particularly wonderful.

Okay, great.

Now, Bart just has to figure out what this whole "Christmas" thing is supposed to be and why Jay seems so hung up on it.

ooooooo

December 8

Bart really doesn't like feeling behind.

He's not sure if it's something inherent about his personality or the fact that he spent the first thirteen years of his life in a world where not knowing a potential danger meant you died.

Either way, in the past two years, Bart has gotten annoyingly used to the feeling, like being out of a loop no one else even thinks exist. He supposes it's the peril of being a time traveler-people always assume he knows more than he does.

It's been three days since Jay talked to him and in that time, Bart has read 12 encyclopediae, 32 history books, and 2,378 articles about Christmas which included everything from ancient pagan winter festivals, legends about rangifer tarandus with aviation capabilities, and way too many fiction novels about sad people with hypothermia.

None of which Bart is exactly sure why Jay wants to celebrate.

Context, he needs context.

"So….Christmas," Bart asks, the next time he's at the Rogue's new hideout.

Sue him, Bart's never thought he was particularly subtle. He tells the truth mostly, it's not his fault people don't believe him.

Mick rolls his eyes. "Relax, kid, we're not heartless. Len ain't planning any major jobs for the holidays."

"What," Bart asks, freshly disappointed. "What do you mean you guys don't have any jobs planned? Your jobs are the best part of patrol!"

"Bart," Len levels a look at him, "it's Christmas. Take a break."

See and this, this right here is what Bart doesn't understand.

"Why would I take a break?"

Lisa laughs from her spot on the couch, grinning up at him. "Cute. But, trust me, honey, don't go too overboard with those workaholic tendencies. You'll end up like Len."

Len turns from Bart to glare at his sister.

"No, ugh," Bart collapses on the couch between Lisa and Mark, "I mean why would I take a break for Christmas? What's important about it? What is it?"

The Rogues all turn and look at each other and Bart feels that creeping sense of falling behind crawl down his spine.

"You…," Mark frowns, "Bart, you don't know what Christmas is?"

Bart huffs. "It's a Christian holiday taking place on December 25th. Shortened from the name 'mass on Christ's day' from the Anglo-Saxon and Germanic yule. Originally thought to be adapted by the Catholic Church from the pagan tradition-"

"No!" Axel buries his face in his hands, snickering. "You're so weird, it sounds like you got that from an encyclopedia."

Which isn't fair. Bart got it from several encylopediae.

"Axel, shut up," Len orders, focusing on Bart. "You never celebrated Christmas when you were growing up?"

"No," Bart answers and…it's not like they exactly had calendars anyway-not back in Bart's world. Hard to celebrate a day when you didn't even have real seasons. Wally probably mentioned it before he died, Bart can vaguely remember something like that. But that had been years ago.

"Aww, that's kind of sad." Axel blinks. "Wait, what about last year? You got here two years ago, right?"

"Er," Bart blushes, "Last year, I think I might've...um, forgot. Kind of."

"You forgot Christmas," Hartley deadpans.

"Well, I mean," Bart blows a piece of hair out of his face, trying to remember, "I think the Titans had some kind of party so I went to that...probably. But, then I guess I….got distracted?"

He probably went to Canada. Bart likes Canada, lots of open space. It's fun to run through.

The Rogues are all staring at him now.

"I didn't know it was important," Bart argues.

Lisa frowns, turning to her brother. "Len, fix this."

"Fix this yourself, Lis'." Len rolls his eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, the cold gun doesn't make me Father Christmas."

"That's it!" Axel says cheerfully in a tone even Bart has learned to be somewhat wary for.

He points to Bart. "Bart Allen, the Rogues are going to show you the true meaning of Christmas!"

There's a long beat.

"Well, this is a terrible idea," Mick says.

ooooooo

December 9

It's been five minutes and Jaime is still laughing, nearly hunched over his desk.

Bart waits it out, leaning back on Jaime's bed and stretching his legs out over the comforter.

"It's really not that weird," Bart says.

"Oh, it is. It definitely is," Jaime says, laughter finally dying down enough to speak. "Hermano, you have the weirdest relationship with your criminals known to man."

Bart rolls his eyes. "It works."

"It does," Jaime agrees. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it; but, it actually does."

"They like you, you know. If you want to meet them again," Bart consciously slows down his hand, keeping it at least at visible speeds as he runs it through his hair. "If you ever wanted to hang around a bit more in Central, I mean."

Jaime pauses before giving that smile where his eyes crinkle a little at the corners and Bart feel a bit out of breath-which he finds particularly ridiculous considering he can break Mach 7 without getting winded.

He swallows, not being the first to look away.

"So, got any idea how they're going to be the ghosts to your Ebenezer Scrooge," Jaime asks, voice softer and a little bit warmer than before.

Bart blinks. "What?"

"Must not have gotten to that one yet." Jaime smiles. "Any clue what they have planned?"

Bart shrugs. "Oh, you know, probably something dramatic."

ooooooo

December 12

"Gather around, young disciple of merriment, ye olde student of cheer. For I, your humble teacher, am about to introduce you to greatest meaning of Christmas ever before seen." Axel gestures his arms wide. "Presents."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Hartley complains.

Around the three, the Central City mall is bright, festive, and absolutely teeming with people. Bart's already had to save five customers from running each other over and it hasn't even been ten minutes.

"Isn't this a little bit…," Bart pauses, trying to remember that phrase from one of the articles, "'a materialistic destruction of the season only made possible by capitalistic greed.'"

"Yes," Hartley answers immediately.

Axel glares at his fellow Rogue. "Why did you even come?"

"Entertainment." Hartley sniffs. "I didn't think you'd be dragging us to the mall in the middle of December!"

Axel doesn't bother responding, grabbing Bart's arm and pulling him forward. "Ignore Hartley, he's just antisocial. The mall is the absolutely greatest first stop in understanding Christmas and I'm taking you to the very best part. Behold!" He grins, pointing ahead. "The toy store."

Bart's eyes widen.

If the mall was full, the toy store is beyond full. Bart's seen people running from supervillians that were less frantic.

Hartley turns to Axel. "I hate you."

"There's that Christmas spirit," Axel says before boldly dragging them both in. "You see, Bart, the holidays have a very special tradition where you get presents for people you care about. And what better presents than toys?"

Hartley snorts, trying to push back through the crowd only to get elbowed in the opposite direction. He swears.

Axel runs a reverent hand across a display for some kind of new toy gun with foam projectiles. "So, kid, really when you get down to it. All these people in here. They aren't capitalistic. No, they're martyrs-sacrificing their time and quite possibly their very safety, all to experience the true meaning of Christmas." Axel wipes a fake tear from his eyes. "Touching, really."

"Tell that to the retail workers," Hartley says, before craning his neck to see the shelf he just got shoved into. "Hey, Axel, get over here for a second. They've got little Impulse dolls with The Rogues expansion packs."

Axel's eyes light up. "Ooh! Neat! Do they have a Trickster action figure?"

"Who would want one," Hartley asks, but obligingly hands over a figure in garish blue and yellow colors.

"I'm famous," he says in awe, quickly grabbing another three packs off the shelves and shoving them in Bart's arms.

Bart looks down at the figures, squinting as he tries to make out his likeness.

It's alright. The Captain Cold one is better.

"Did you even look at the price tag," Hartley asks.

Axel shrugs. "They're action figures how much could they be?"

Hartley chuckles ominously before a venerable crowd of people shoves between them, knocking Axel and Bart back into the picked over and therefore, less crowded baby clothing section.

Axel hums, looking around and trying to reorient them. "I don't suppose you could phase through some people. Right, kid?"

"Probably not this many," Bart admits. "So….is Christmas just about buying stuff?"

Axel actually pauses, looking down at him before he tsks.

"Now, Bart, you should've been around us long enough to know that buying things isn't the important part. And, hey, in this case, it's not even stealing them either. It's the experience."

Axel grins. "See, for Christmas, it's not about how big the present is or how much it's worth. It's just about..hmm...okay, how do I describe it? It's about thinking of someone important and then seeing that one thing that's like Wow, they've got to have this. And then, you get to give it to them and they love it and," He shrugs, "well, it's nice, you know? Like you made their lives better just by thinking of them."

"Oh," Bart says, frowning in contemplation.

That does sound….well, a lot better than what Bart was expecting.

Axel claps him across the back. "Now, come on. Let's go find Hartley before he breaks the no-kill rule and murders a shopper."

ooooooo

December 14

"Crap," Tim mutters, shaking out his hand as he tries to hold the garland steady around the stair rail. "Bart, hand me another piece of fishing wire before this dumb decoration tries to impale me again."

Bart complies, eyeing the greenery with the kind of intense fascination he normally devotes to chemical equations, the latest Rogue's plans, and that weird way Jaime's mouth twists when he's focusing.

"Hey, Tim."

Tim doesn't look up. "Yeah?"

"Your family's like...kind of rich, right?"

"Obscenely," Tim grumbles with an expression that says he knows exactly where Bart's going.

"So, can't you just," he gestures to the garland, "I don't know, pay someone to do this for you."

Tim looks at him with dead eyes.

"Yes," he says before leaning above the rail and yelling down the hall, "WE COULD JUST PAY SOMEONE TO DECORATE!"

"It's tradition!" Dick singsongs from somewhere in the kitchen.

"It's a risk to life and limb," Tim calls back, brandishing his cut fingers. "Come look at this, I'm going to get gangrene by the time I finish the stupid stairs!"

Jason cackles, striding through the foyer with boxes of ornaments stacked above his head. "Then, be more coordinated. Besides, you haven't even seen the tree yet. We talked Alfie into getting a twelve footer this year."

Tim waits until Jason's made it to the kitchen before turning back to Bart. From somewhere, bright, happy music starts playing that echoes around Tim like a dirge.

"I've literally never seen Jason and Dick agree on something more," he says flatly. "It's terrifying."

"What's the big deal," Bart asks, passing over a bow when Tim holds out a hand.

"I don't even know," he sighs. "It's not like we're even going to get to celebrate that much before one of Gotham's villains breaks out." He eyes Bart. "By the way, want to join the pool? Jason and Alfred are betting on Mr. Freeze, Dick and Babs got Calendar Man, and I'm going with Penguin."

"Nah, I'm good," Bart says. Really, people think Bart's the one that's weird about his villains.

"Suit yourself." Tim says, already distracted by keeping everything in place long enough to tie down.

"Truthfully, I don't really get Christmas," Tim admits quietly, not looking up. "For me, it just meant not getting to go to school and my parents dressing me up for their boring office parties and galas. And then after the Invasion," he shrugs, "I didn't really see the point in decorating if it was just me."

He finally secures the end of the garland, leaning back to gaze at it with utter triumph before looking back at Bart.

Tim's smile softens. "I know Jason and his mom used to do what they could, though, and Dick is...well, Dick; so….," he gestures around to the red and green decor spreading around nearly every inch of the manor, "they like to go all out now that they can. And I guess I don't mind that much as long as it's just once a year."

He grabs the box of decorations, stepping down to the foyer. "THAT STILL DOESN'T MEAN I LIKE DOING THE GARLAND!"

"You have the smallest hands," Dick answers.

"That's a dirty lie!" He twists back to Bart. "What about you? You can come spend Christmas at the manor if you want?"

"Can't," Bart says. "I think the Rogues have something planned."

He frowns. "What? Like a bank robbery?"

"Ugh, I wish. I think they're throwing a party,"

Tim stares at him. Bart stares back.

Finally, Tim sighs. "...I really don't understand Central."

ooooooo

December 17

Bart is...confused.

It's not a new feeling, he kind of wishes it was; but, still two years being in this world and things still catch him unguarded. They're normally good things, kind in a way that Bart's world had forgotten how to be.

Somehow, that doesn't make it any less sharp.

Bart's read dictionaries before; thesauruses, too, lots of them; mixed in with bounds of psychology books with small print and jargon that make him want to doze off or trade it in for a physics journal.

The point is this: kindness doesn't have to mean painless.

Bart frowns, staring out at the packed hall, jammed to the corners with small smiles and easy conversation even with tired faces still hunkered down over the casseroles. He's been here the entire afternoon and a large part of him still can't believe this place exists. That it's here in his own city without him ever knowing about it.

"Here, kid," Sam comes to stand next to him, shoving a styrofoam cup in his hands. "Drink up, you've earned it."

Bart blinks down at the hot chocolate before staring up at Sam. "How'd you find out about this place?"

"What? The soup kitchen?" Sam shrugs. "It's been here for years. Back when I was your age, Ma used to drag me and my brothers here to volunteer every holiday."

He notices Bart's still staring.

"It's not that unusual, kid," he says, sipping at his own cup. "Most cities have at least one."

Bart swallows, throat oddly dry. "That's...that's good."

He doesn't think he's ever really going to be used to this world. It's too strange for him to fully comprehend even with Wally's stories still pounding against his brain.

Sam continues to watch him. "Yeah, well, I can't say it helps everyone and I definitely won't say it shouldn't be more; but, even the little things help sometimes, you know? Gotta watch out for your fellow man, even us Rogues. It's the Christmas spirit."

Bart nods distracted, still frowning out at the hall.

"Future didn't have these either, then," Sam guesses quietly.

"No."

The quiet lays around them like a blanket while Bart continues to think.

"You okay, kid?"

"I'll be fine," he says absently.

"Bart."

Bart glances back over to find Sam watching him, a small smile on his face that doesn't quite chase the seriousness out of his eyes.

He slides a pack of crackers into Bart's hands.

"You need to eat, kid," the Rogue says gently. "You haven't had anything all afternoon. You're a speedster, you need the calories."

Bart blinks, slowly taking a sip of hot chocolate and tearing into the crackers.

"Thanks," Bart says. "For bringing me here….and for the crackers."

Sam leans back, shrugging again. "Well, you know, I figured I had to show you something about what Christmas should be about." He rolls his eyes. "Especially after Axel dragged you to a mall."

ooooooo

December 20

"Oh, and definitely 'Little Drummer Boy'," Lisa adds, shoving another pile of paper into Bart's hands. "There, think you got it?"

"Sure." Bart shrugs. "I'm not that great at singing, though."

"Who is," Hartley mutters, fiddling with the knobs on his keyboard again. "Lisa's pitchy, Mark's flat, and Axel sounds like someone tried to resuscitate roadkill. The only halfway decent singer we have is Mick and he bolted as soon as Lisa found sheet music."

Lisa glares. "What Harty-Hart means is you'll be fine." She sighs. "Especially, since someone still insists we can't actually go caroling."

"We're wanted criminals, Lis'," Len deadpans. "We're not going door to door."

"Plus, it's caroling." Mark grimaces.

Lisa ignores them completely, snapping as Axel hands over an actual checklist. "So, that's Christmas carols, Axel handled presents, Sam got charity, Hartley covered Hanukkah-"

Axel flops his head over the couch. "Still say that one wasn't technically about Christmas!"

"Shut up," Hartley glares over the keyboard. "Mark took him to a living nativity scene, I was at least making sure he knows what a menorah is."

"Fair," Mark agrees.

Lisa hums, looking up at Len. "You haven't done anything yet, brother dear."

Len smirks. "I'm sure I can think of something."

"You better," she says ominously before looking down at the list, her eyes sparkling dangerously. "And, of course, I have ice skating tomorrow. Right, Bart?"

"Ah, yeah?"

Sam actually shudders. "You're so lucky you've got super healing. I think I almost lost a foot last time."

"Quitter." Lisa kisses his cheek before smiling gleefully at Bart. "That's the secret, okay, sweetie? The ice can feel weakness."

Bart genuinely doesn't understand how people could think the Rogues aren't terrifying.

Lisa taps her finger against her chin. "Anything else we're forgetting?"

"Nah, we've got the most important parts already, right," Axel leans over her shoulder. "All we've got left is the stupid stuff like fruit cake and mistletoe."

"No." Len says immediately, already giving Axel a death glare. "We're not telling the kid about mistletoe."

Lisa raises an eyebrow, looking amused. "Oh, come on, Lenny. For all we know, he already read it."

All at once, Bart finds six pairs of eyes drawn directly towards him.

"Um, mistletoe, also known as viscum album or phoradendron leucarpum, depending on the species-an evergreen plant, slightly poisonous…," Bart trails off, only to find them still staring at him. He hastily tacks on, "Associated with the death of Baldur in Norse mythology?"

Mark breathes out, ending in a slight chuckle. "Yeah, kid, you got it. It's a poisonous murder weapon."

The Rogues seem to relax, looking at each other and smirking and Bart feels that itchy creeping feeling come back.

"What am I missing," he asks suspiciously.

"Nothing." Len fixes the rest of the Rogues with a stare, effectively ending the conversation. "Absolutely nothing."

ooooooo

December 21

"Christmas is a war zone," Gar says, face serious even with flour streaked all the way up to his hair. "And she's the General."

"And don't you forget it." Martha Kent winks, slamming another bowl of dough down in front of them. "Try to roll this one out a bit thicker, okay, boys?"

Gar tosses a lazy salute, unnoticed as Martha turns abruptly to the other side of the kitchen. "Kara, honey, do not use heat vision on that gingerbread! You'll burn the bottoms!"

"But, the oven's already full!"

Gar elbows Bart, whispering under his breath. "Not like it matters, Kara burns water."

"How many of these are there," Bart asks with something approaching awe as Johnathan Kent brings in at least another five pounds of butter.

Martha hums. "Let's see, a good five dozen for the neighbors, six more to drop off at the Tower, three for Clark's old friends at the Planet, a few for home, and a couple extra batches in case we forgot anyone." Her eyes light up. "Oh, Kara, don't forget to bring a tin over to Vic and Dr. Stone's later today, alright? I made sure to put extra chocolate chips in his."

Kara blushes bright red. "Mom!"

Martha laughs, sliding a tupperware over to Bart as she does. "And here, honey, help with the baking and you get first dibs. That's how it works in the Kent house."

"Sounds like bribery," Gar teases.

Martha smirks, wiping more flour across his nose. "I prefer incentivisation."

"That's terrifying."

"That's the holidays," Martha answers cheerfully as she passes them cookie cutters.

"So, this is Christmas?" Bart gestures around at the mess of the kitchen.

Martha considers. "Well, definitely not all of it. But, probably my favorite part, sure."

"But, you can bake anytime," Bart says, grinning when he finds a cutter shaped like a bolt of lightning. "If you like it, why wait once a year?"

"Because otherwise we'd all die of food comas." Kara steals a snickerdoodle fast enough that only Bart can see her move.

Martha just smiles. "Some things just work better if you don't do them all the time. It makes them mean more-shows people they're not forgotten even if it's just something small like cookies. Besides, we don't want everyone to get tired of it, right?"

"I don't think I could ever get tired of free food," Bart says honestly.

Gar rolls his eyes. "Speedster."

Martha laughs, tapping on the tupperware beside Bart. "How's this? How about you wait and give some of these cookies to someone special. It doesn't have to be anything big. That's not what the cookies are about. Just a little gesture to say you're thinking of them. That you didn't forget. Got it?"

Bart looks down at the tupperware, frowning a little bit. "...Okay?"

"Someone special, huh?" Gar waggles his eyebrows at Kara. "You mean like Vic?"

Kara glares back. "You, I can kill."

"Heroes don't kill."

"I'll make an exception."

ooooooo

December 22

Bart drops next to Len on the roof. Len doesn't seem surprised to see him

"Looks like it's going to snow this year," Len says, nodding up at the grey of the sky.

"Huh." Bart considers. "Guess that counts as another Christmas thing then, doesn't it?"

"My sister's got a lot of tricks up her sleeves, but even she can't take credit for the weather. And I'm definitely not giving credit to Axel." He raises an eyebrow. "Speaking of, you're missing the movie marathon. She picked some good ones this time, too-the classics."

"I kind of hate movies," Bart confesses. "It gets boring and I can never speed up enough so it's not just frame by frame. Hard to keep track."

"Told her they should've picked something else." He pauses. "Like learning to chop down a tree. That's probably festive."

"Probably?"

Len rolls his eyes. "I grew up in a city, kid. How am I supposed to know? Closest I've been to the woods is the park."

"That's probably why she didn't pick it." Bart grins. "People really do all of this every year?"

"Axel and Lis' may have made it a bit more...involved this time."

Bart bump his shoulder against Len's. "You haven't done anything yet?"

"Neither has Mick," he deadpans. "But, I don't hear anyone breathing down his neck."

Bart laughs.

"Scared I'm going to forget, kid?"

"Nah," Bart says honestly. "Just curious."

Len snorts, letting quiet fall around them and for a second, Bart just lets himself watch the sky.

ooooooo

December 23

"So, anyway, that's what's been happening with me. Sorry I haven't been by to see you lately." Bart throws in an eye roll because it makes him feel better. "Although, really, if you think about it, this is kind of your fault anyway for not giving me a heads up this whole Christmas thing is supposed to be important."

Bart blows a piece of hair out of his eyes, mouth pulling down. "Guess you didn't think I'd ever need to know."

Snowflakes hang in the air, right in front of his face, and he tries to calculate their eventual paths. Bart speaks quietly. "No, that's not fair. You probably hoped I'd get to find out anyway, somehow ...even with ...even with everything. You liked to think things like that." His lip quirks up. "Probably didn't expect the time travel, though."

Bart crouches down, eyeing the gravestone in front of him. "Hey, Wally, I kind of got a confession for you, too. I don't...I don't think I'm too good at this. The Christmas thing, I mean." He lets himself fall back until he's sitting in the snow, the snowflakes unmoving above him. "I'm not stupid. I get it now. The context. I know what they're trying to say with the cookies and the presents and...and even the decorations. They're all about other people, right? Thinking about what makes them happy."

He stares at the sky instead of the grave. "Everything's so complicated here. It's not...it's not like back there. Back there, everything was fast, you knew what people wanted because it was obvious, you just couldn't do anything about it. Here….," he shakes his head, "it's all slower, Wally. People have time to think, to make traditions and be alive long enough to do them every year, they can...care about things. All the time." He pauses. "I'm not good at knowing what people care about. I don't...I don't understand them. I never have and especially, not here."

He breathes out, concentrating to pull himself back, slow down his mind enough until the snow finally starts falling around him

"Anyway, Ms. Kent said that I should give these to someone special and since it's not like you needed more flowers, here." He places a couple of cookies right at the head of the grave. "I haven't forgotten you."

ooooooo

December 24

No one on Earth has parties like the Titans have parties.

They're wild, actually and utterly chaotic in the mix of music and laughter and snatches of conversation and frankly just bizarre occurrences that are really only possible when there's an entire Tower filled with teenagers and young adults with superpowers.

Bart loves them.

He flashes from one room to the next for at least the fifth time that night, not even bothering to stay still long enough to join in. Instead, he just sits back and watches everyone move, loud and constant enough that Bart can almost feel like he doesn't have to slow down.

Unsurprisingly, Bart eventually finds himself in the kitchen.

"Knew I couldn't be the only one that's starving," Raquel says, pushing a plate of food at him even with one hand on her heavily pregnant stomach.

"Thanks." Bart tilts his head, staring at the bright red and vaguely familiar thing sitting on her head. "Neat hat."

Raquel snorts, pulling it off by a white puff ball attached to the end. "If you like it so much, you can take it. Only have it now because Karen forced it on me for the party." She stuffs it on his head, grinning. "Besides, it's your color."

Bart hums. "So, it's a Christmas thing?"

"Kind of silly, isn't it?" Raquel levers herself up. "Now, come on, I heard Donna's trying to talk Dick into another dance off and someone's gotta get video evidence."

Bart pushes the hat up when it tries to slip. "I thought they banned them after last time."

"Like that was ever going to last."

A laugh echoes over the rest of the crowd and Bart pauses before he even realizes it, eyes glancing over the room to catch the smile and the person he knows it's attached.

Bart's grinning when he turns back to Raquel. "I'll catch up later."

Raquel follows his eye line before pressing her lips together in a way that says she's trying not to laugh. "Got it."

"Thanks for the hat," Bart says.

And then, he's gone, flashing across the room in the direction of the laugh before finally he's slinging his arms around a pair of shoulders and leaning over. "Hey, herman-o."

Jaime rolls his eyes as he smiles back, at least half over Bart's continuing butchery to the Spanish language. "Hey." He eyes the hat. "So, you're Santa now? The Rogue's plan must have worked better than I thought."

Bart shrugs. "Raquel told me it's a Christmas hat."

"It's a Santa hat," He reaches out, adjusting it slightly. "You know not everyone can pull off red plush and fake fur; but, it looks good on you."

"You think?" Bart hums, stretching out on his toes to hook his chin on Jaime's shoulder. "She did say it was my color."

"Red's always going to be your color," Jaime huffs, amused. He moves smoothly out of Bart's grip and Bart tries not to feel too disappointed about it as Jaime grabs his arm and pulls him forward. "Come on, I've got something to show you."

"If it's the dance off, Raquel already told me."

"It's not the dance off. Better"

"Huh. You know that's a pretty high bar to beat."

Jaime laughs, reaching for the door to the outside balcony. "Oh, well if I can't beat the dance off…"

"I didn't say you couldn't beat it," Bart follows him out, "I just said it's a high bar. Don't worry, I believe in you."

Jaime grins, reaching down for his bag. "I needed to grab my backpack."

Bart hops up to sit on the rail, waiting for him. "You put it outside?"

"Best place for a drink not to spill on it." He shrugs before he apparently finds what he's looking for. His smile goes a bit shy as he looks up at Bart. "Um, I might've kind of gotten you something. A Christmas present."

Bart's smile drops. "But, I didn't...I didn't get you anything." His hands grip tightly on the rail. "Oh, crap, Jaime, I'm sorry, I didn't think-I can go find something! Wait here-"

"Bart," Jaime cuts him off with a laugh, "you're fine. I didn't expect you to. I wanted to surprise you."

"But, I would've gotten you something," Bart insists because suddenly, it's incredibly important that Jaime knows this, because Jaime's important, and Bart didn't-

"Then, how about next year," Jaime says like a promise.

Bart stops. Jaime smiles back at him.

"Next year," Bart repeats.

"Yeah," Jaime agrees. "Next year. But, for this year, let me just give something to you, alright? For your first real Christmas."

"Okay," Bart says.

"Okay," Jaime echoes before he stands, holding something behind his back. "So, I know it's small and, um, I'm not that good at wrapping, but….here. Merry Christmas"

And then he pushes a bag of chicken whizees with a bow into Bart's hands.

Bart touches it gently as if one wrong move will make it all disappear.

"Like I said it's not much," Jaime says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's food," he disagrees because he's pretty sure that's one of the best things a person could ever have.

"Oh...well, yeah." Jaime clears his throat. "I mean….I know you like them."

"Thank you," Bart says softly. He looks up to meet Jaime's eyes. "You know ...this is the first Christmas present I've ever gotten."

Jaime breathes out, mouth turning up in a lopsided smile. "Yeah?"

"I'm really glad it's from you," Bart says.

"I….," Jaime's eyes crinkle at the corner, "...thanks."

Bart laughs. "What are you thanking me for?"

"Just….nothing." Jaime comes to lean beside him, taking a long breath and shaking his head before letting them sit in silence.

Bart looks down at the bag of food in his hands before squinting up at the sky. "So, Christmas is more complicated than I expected."

Jaime laughs. "Yeah, I guess it can be."

"A lot more complicated," he mutters.

"Do you like it?"

Bart thinks in a long, stretched out second. "Yeah...I think I do."

Jaime smiles. "Good."

"I just…," Bart frowns, "everyone's trying so hard so...I hope I'm doing it right, too."

"Bart," Jaime's voice is warm and fond, a counter to the cold in the air. "You are. Of course, you are."

Bart's not sure about that.

The alert on his comm is loud and jarring in the dark of the night and they both jump as they look down.

Bart scans the news alert. "Snow storm warning for Central, airport's shut down."

Jaime leans back. "Need to go, right?"

"I'm not sure I can stop the weather," Bart says like he's not already trying to think of something. Maybe he can borrow something from Mark or...

Jaime hums. "I suppose that's the good thing about El Paso, don't really have to worry about a white Christmas."

Bart stops, frowning. "Thought white Christmases were supposed to be good things?"

"Only in song and movies," Jaime says. "Not so much for people getting home for the holidays."

"Huh," Bart says, his present from Jaime still snug in his hand and the party still bright and moving behind them. "I think I thought of something."

ooooooo

"Sure I'm the last one? I don't mind waiting."

At 9:32 on Christmas Eve, the Central City airport was a jumbled mess of canceled flights and desperate passengers, stuck at their gates with bags still gripped in their hands.

At 11:47, the airport's quiet. Except one final passenger.

All that's left is a teenage girl with dark brown eyes, darker hair, and a sticker on her backpack that reads Think Like a Proton and Stay Positive.

She grins when she sees him.

"Yep," he confirms popping the p. "Where to?"

She scratches down an address. "Manchester, Alabama if it's not too far?"

Stretching out his arms under his uniform, Bart shakes his head. "Nah, trust me, I ran an entire family to São Paulo an hour ago; a few states is nothing. Now, come on, we've only got like twelve minutes and seven seconds until midnight."

"Oh, please." She rolls her eyes even as she takes his hand. "For you, I imagine that's forever."

It kind of is; but, Bart doesn't bother mentioning that as he grabs her and pushes, speeding up the world enough that the laws of mass and acceleration bend a bit and Bart's running because it's the best feeling in the world, zipping across plains and corn fields to streets and forests and rivers and finally through small town roads that Bart barely bothers to process the street signs for until he finally finds a small one with a slightly crooked house number and a lit up wreath.

The girl laughs as they finally stop, almost tripping at the sudden return to stillness and Bart reaches out, steadying her before she falls face first on the lawn.

"This one?" Bart asks, gesturing to the house as he rolls back on the balls of his feet.

"Yeah, this is it. Thank you," she says, trying to catch her breath as she takes in the house. She lets out another breathless laugh. "You know I really didn't expect my college visit to end like this!"

Bart shrugs in a quick half movement, still feeling the edges of the speed force cracking against his skin. "Speedsters are kind of a Central tradition."

"So, you're the town mascot," she teases.

"Nope, tonight, I'm Santa," he corrects, pointing to the red hat still sitting snug on the top of his head.

"Good." The girl finally breathes out in a smile. "Because I definitely needed the Christmas miracle." She nods back to the house. "It's just me and my brother Bobby. I'd hate to spend Christmas without him."

"I'm glad I could help," Bart says and he means it. He means it possibly more than anything he's said all month.

He takes another second to bounce slightly in place, needing to move even in the barely cool wind of the house lawn.

The girl tilts her head, laughing gain. "Are all superheroes this energetic?"

"Nah, I'm just..." Bart trails off, considering his words.

"I really like being able to help," he finally settles on. "It's important"

It seems like something Grandpa Barry would do.

"You're good at it," the girl says, smiling back at him. She sticks out her hand. "Carol Bucklen, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Bart Allen."

Carol's hand freezes in his before she laughs, sudden and surprised. "I really don't think you're supposed to just tell me that."

Bart shrugs because, honestly, people take this whole secret identity thing way too serious. Why should Bart care if people know his name?

"You can call me Impulse if you want," he offers.

"Nah, too late now," Carol shakes her head. "The cool silent hero thing is already gone. Besides, I think I like 'Bart' better anyway."

"Meh, I'm not really good at being silent."

"You don't say," she jokes, reaching forward and tugging his hat down so Bart's world becomes a blur of slightly itchy red fabric.

She's grinning when Bart readjusts it. "Merry Christmas, Bart Allen,"

Bart smiles. "Merry Christmas, Carol Bucklen."

ooooooo

December 25

"I love it, Bart," Jay says, inspecting his new World's Fastest Grandpa mug like it's the eighth hidden wonder of the universe.

"I thought…," Bart starts to babble, "I mean I know you like coffee and I didn't know what else you really need, so…"

"Best Christmas I've had in ages," Jay says sincerely.

And Bart lets himself relax.

"Um," Bart takes a breath, "I'm sorry for, you know, kind of...well, basically ditching you last year. I sort of...didn't know it was Christmas."

Jay frowns.

"We didn't have it in the future," he explains without looking up.

"Oh…"

Bart tires to pull off a shrug. "I've kind of been playing catch up this year."

"Bart…," Jay sighs and Bart finally looks up, "I'm sorry, kiddo, I should've asked sooner. I just…," he shakes his head, "you remind me so much of Wally and Barry sometimes that I forget...I forget to ask."

"It's okay," Bart says automatically. "I understand."

Jay smiles a bit wistfully. "Doesn't mean I can't do better." He stands, clearing his throat as he does so the next time he speaks, the smile is back full force. "For example, Wally always wanted the latest video game; but, you...you, I thought might enjoy something a little bit different."

He disappears for a second before flashing back and a wrapped box dropping into Bart's lap.

Bart stares at it.

"Go on, son." Jay winks. "Traditionally, you open presents rather than stare at them."

Bart starts at the wrapping paper, pulling gently on the tape so it doesn't tear before finally untying the bow on top.

He's left with a box full of disks and black rectangles that he vaguely recognizes from running through libraries.

"They're recordings," Jay tells him, pulling out one and wiping off the label until Thanksgiving 2006 shows on the side. "Think they're might be some pictures, too, somewhere at the bottom. Iris got Joan a video camera one Christmas early on and she was absolutely obsessed with the thing. Dragged it out for every holiday."

Bart tries to find words, looking down at the box. "So, these are…"

"I figured you should have them." Jay smiles. "Joan would've wanted them to go to someone who'd appreciate them."

Bart doesn't even try to talk this time, there's just a blink, a millisecond of space, and then his arms are wrapped tightly around Jay and his head's by his shoulder. Bart...Bart doesn't really do hugs much.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

"Kiddo..." Jay stays still, only moving to put a steadying hand on Bart's back. "...Bart, I'm just happy you're here."

ooooooo

"And this," Mick grins sharply over the bowl, "this right here is the true meaning of Christmas."

Axel snorts, sipping at his glass. "I can't believe your contribution is booze!"

"Don't hear you complaining," Mick shoots back. "Besides, that's not just any booze. This is Grandma Rory's special eggnog mix, stuff's near toxic."

"Bart can't even drink," Sam says.

"I didn't forget." Mick flops down on the couch next to Bart, handing him a box of apple juice and patting his head. "Merry Christmas, kid!"

Bart grins, rolling his eyes.

There's the knock of the door opening and suddenly all eyes turn to the sound of the final party member striding through the door, dragging a…

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me." Lisa laughs, delighted. "That's what you went to find! Lenny, I love it!"

"I had to cut it down myself." Len says, swearing as he sets down the short and half mangled tree by the window, next to Hartley's menorah. The tree falls almost immediately.

"I think I can still see the root," Axel says, leaning down to expect the bottom.

Len ignores them, coming to stand next to Bart. "For the record, kid, I was right. Woods aren't that festive."

"Next year, we're going with store-bought," Sam suggests wisely as the rest of the Rogues crowd around the tree, trying to find a way to make it stand up right.

Bart stays beside Len, slipping a picture into his hand.

Len looks down at it, frowning before his mouth softens in something not quite a smile. Bart knew Len would understand.

"Where'd you get this," Len asks, keeping his voice low so it doesn't carry.

Bart leans beside him, looking down at the photo. "Jay gave it to me."

In the picture, a blond man and a red haired teenager are caught laughing in a kitchen, half a pie held easily between them.

"It's kind of cool, right?" Bart pauses. "Photos of me are always blurry; I get bored and move before the photo can take."

"They must've been distracted." Len hands back the picture. "Good memory, probably."

"Yeah." Bart grins. "I think so, too."

"There." Hartley glares back at them. "Okay, Len, we got your stupid tree to stand. No help from you, too."

"I did my part," Len dismisses, moving on to the egg nog and filling himself a glass. "Now, shut up and listen for a second, there's still one Christmas thing you all forgot to mention."

Lisa rolls her eyes. "Oh, now, you decide to get involved."

"Told you I'd have a plan, sister dear," he says before focusing on the group.

"To the most important part of Christmas." He raises his glass in a toast. "To family, by blood or by choice. Let the holidays always be a time to gather together."

As one the group raise their glasses. "To family."

Len throws a wink at Bart before draining his glass. "And that, kid, is what Christmas should mean."

Bart smiles back.

"Told you the Boss would do something soft," Axel whispers to Hartley, not quite quietly enough.

Len glares hard enough that the temperature of the room drops. "Care to say that again, Axel."

Bart...Bart finds that he really loves Christmas.

ooooooo

A/N: (1) Thank you so, so much to everyone for reading and thank you to everyone last chapter who left reviews follows, or favorites! I APPRECIATE YOU ALL and I hope you're having a lovely New Year's Day.

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(2) You can find Carol's shirt here: shop/p/12279173. -kookaburra?rbs=62e27dc5-2f9f-44ad-bc3c-d9eac84bdb78

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(3) So, I really like writing these little Bart and the Rogues short stories and they make for a great way to get over writer's block for thinking of my other stories. No specific promises on when it will post and bearing in mind I don't want this short story collection to get too ahead of the main series because of spoilers, I'm really interested in trying my hand at a 5 + 1 fic in this short story collection and wondered if anyone had any theme they would like to see. If not, that's fine, too. No pressure.

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I love hearing what you guys think of the story!