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“I think we should watch Frozen.” Dick said, trying to look nonchalant.
“Pfft-everyone in this room knows the best Christmas movie is Die Hard.” Jason said from his place in Bruce’s favorite armchair. He had his legs draped across the arm in the way they all knew Bruce hated.
“What about A Christmas Story?” Tim asked, nursing his cup of coffee. Damian rolled his eyes.
“That one’s so dumb. Why wouldn’t they give him a BB-gun? I had a sword collection by his age.” Jason perked up to look at him.
“You’ve seen A Christmas Story?” He turned to Dick. “Dick, did you know the demon knew what movies were?” Dick shushed him with a glare.
“How about a marathon?” Dick asked, already grabbing the remote to queue up the films.
“Just as long as there’s popcorn!”
Soon enough, they were all standing in the kitchen, getting in Alfred’s way more than helping.
“What about—“ Tim trailed off, squinting at the label. “Tu-Tumeric. Do you need Tumeric, Alfred?” He was grabbing random bottles from the spice rack, creating an even larger mess for Alfred to deal with. Dick wasn’t much better, pulling out every pot they owned and placing them on the counter for Alfred to inspect. Damian was sitting on one of the stools, drinking a steaming cup of hot chocolate Alfred had placed in front of him.
Jason was lurking on the outskirts shaking his head at all of them. They were acting like they’d never seen the inside of a kitchen before. He was about to pull his beat-up paperback out of his pocket when Dick dropped his third pot.
“Alright,” he shouted. “That’s it! All of you out!” He stepped further into the kitchen and pointed to the door. Tim looked relieved and nearly ran to get out of the way. Dick pouted a bit but eventually followed. Jason turned to Damian who was still sipping quietly from his mug. “You,” he pointed at the smaller boy. “Stay quiet and out of the way and we won’t have an issue.” Damian just responded by raising his mug in a mocking salute. Jason nodded and turned to Alfred who was carefully seasoning a pot full of popcorn kernels on the stove. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked.
“You’ve helped quite enough, Master Jason.” Jason opened his mouth to argue. “But,” Alfred cut in. “If you still remember how to make the batter for sugar cookies, a batch would be much appreciated.”
“Of course, I still remember.” Jason replied, smiling at the memory of Alfred teaching him all those years ago. He reached inside the pantry for one of Alfred’s extra aprons, glaring at Damian while he tied it around his waist. “Any mention of this to the others and you get none of the cookies.” Damian frowned but nodded, accepting the threat. He set about making the batter with no further ceremony, allowing his mind to wander while his hands carried him through the task. He’d made these so many times as a kid, he could make them blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back.
It wasn’t long before the timer dinged, and Jason was pulling twelve perfect cookies out of the oven. Damian reached over to grab one straight off the tray but Jason slapped his hand away.
“They have to cool first, you heathen.” It took him a minute to find the cooling racks and when he turned around there were only eleven cookies left on the tray. Damian was trying to discreetly fan his mouth. Jason let out a huff of frustration. “I hope you can’t taste anything for a week.” He quipped, before moving the tray farther down the counter and out of Damian’s reach. In the meantime, Alfred had prepared three overflowing bowls of popcorn on the opposite counter.
“Plain salt, rosemary and olive oil, and cayenne.” Alfred narrated as he pointed to each bowl in turn.
“They look amazing, Alfred.” Jason replied, resting a hand on the older man’s shoulder.
“Yes, well,” Alfred reached up and patted his hand. “Only the best for you boys.” Jason smiled and returned to the task at hand, plating these cookies before Damian could shove all of them in his mouth and disappear.
He managed to make it to the living room with ten still on the plate, so he figured he’d done the best he could. In his absence, Dick had taken control of the room, pulling the couch closer to the television and raiding the manor for what Jason was sure was every single pillow and blanket they owned. Tim was curled up on a nearby recliner, watching Dick as he carefully arranged the space. Jason met his eyes and jerked his head back towards the kitchen.
“Could you get the popcorn before Alfred tries to carry all three bowls?”
“Too late.” Tim responded, looking at a point just behind Jason. He turned to see Alfred emerging from the hallway, large tray in hand. He winked at Jason as he passed on his way to the coffee table.
“Thanks, Alfred.” Dick chirped, settling onto the couch. He grabbed a handful just as soon as the bowls hit the table.
“Don’t just thank me, Master Jason was a great help with the cookies.” Jason could hear the smile in his voice.
“Is that so?” Dick asked, turning his way. “In that case, thanks Jason!” He smiled brightly. Jason rolled his eyes, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little pleased. He set the cookies down next to the popcorn and settled onto the floor next to the couch, nearly sinking into the pile of pillows Dick had placed there.
“What about drinks?” He asked.
“I got it.” Tim stood up, gesturing to his empty mug. He was back moments later, with an assortment of soda cans and a very pleased looking Damian who was carrying yet another mug of Alfred’s hot chocolate.
Tim dumped all the cans on the table, now nearly overflowing with snacks and fell back into the armchair next to Jason. Damian took the other available cushion on the couch, refusing Dick’s offer to share a blanket.
“Your loss.” Dick shrugged.
“What are we starting with?” Tim asked.
“Well…” Dick smiled, smugly.
“It’s Frozen,” Jason said, resigned. “We’re watching Frozen.” Dick nodded, excited. Tim stifled a groan.
“Shhhhhh,” Dick implored from his position on the couch. “It’s about to start.”
The opening notes blared through the ridiculous speakers Bruce had bought a few years ago. Dick was already mouthing the words. He kept poking Damian and rattling off useless Disney trivia. Like, could Damian see Rapunzel in that shot? Just…there! Damian let him do it. He let Dick do just about anything he wanted. He was Dick after all.
Dick leapt up at the first song. He apparently, knew every word, to every song. Even Tim was singing along to every other word, giggling despite himself. Jason threw a glance back to Damian on the couch, like, can you believe these guys? But Damian was watching Dick, dancing around and making a fool of himself.
He seemed so happy.