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You looked out the window, frowning deeply at the large pieces of snow drifting down onto the large piles of white burying the inn. The sky was dark, no sliver of light poking through the endless expanse of clouds. The snowfall was ceaseless. It was as if the sky was pouring all of itself down on you.
To be even more dramatic, the wind outside howled, roaring and thrashing against thick panes of glass. The sound of the coming storm was almost loud enough to drown out the comforting sound of the crackling fire permeating the room. The whole thing felt like the start of some gothic horror novel where the true horror wasn’t dark family secrets or ghosts or even tuberculosis, it was missing your mom’s holiday roast and your granny’s mashed potatoes.
You fell onto the couch dramatically with a loud ‘harumph’. Jason didn’t bother to look up from his copy of Frankenstein. He simply unfurled to make room for you to lay on top of him. Taking the invitation, you inched up to him, laying your head on his solid chest and stretching your body across his.
You look up at him, trying to decipher his features. His handsome face was sculpted into focus. The angle of his brow distinguished the line between alertness and ease. You thought that if you looked closely enough into his green eyes you could, in theory, read along with him but you just end up lost in the vibrant pigment like you always do. He always teased you about being a hopeless romantic but in your humble opinion, Jason is even worse than you.
You pout at him. He huffs at you, rolling his eyes playfully. You’re cute but not cute enough to mess with his reading. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Jason insisted Frankenstein was a plenty Christmas-y book but when asked to explain, Jason brandished his world-class skills in dodging a question. Then again, he was the one who volunteered way too quickly to accompany you to your family Christmas dinner just to dodge his own.
“As amazing as I am, I can’t make the blizzard go away,” he says, mouth quirking into a smug smile.
You whine into his chest. “Don’t you guys have a bat-jet or something?”
Jason snorts, his hand flies to his mouth in a vain attempt to cover the sound. “You say that as if the old man would actually let me use it.”
“Fair,” you conceded, trying not to let the disappointment bleed into your voice. But judging by the way Jason is looking at you, it didn’t work. Jason bit his lip before setting his book down on the side table. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. You snuggled into his soft-looking black sweater feeling the warm comfort radiating off of him. There was always something soft and careful about the way Jason held you that made you feel safe and wanted. Jason’s hugs were a really good representation of how he loved people, carefully.
You wrapped your arms around him, soaking up his affection. Jason tried to ease into your touch. You looked into his eyes and felt the shift of his muscles under you. You knew he was trying to do the same thing as you were. You loosen your hold a fraction, giving him room to settle himself. Jason’s ramrod posture slackens and he lets himself ease into your touch. This level of intimacy was a lot to ask so you want to take it slow.
You two sit there for a while enjoying the quiet intimacy. You nuzzled into Jason’s neck feeling the soft pulsing of his veins. Against your chest, you can feel his lungs expand and contract. There is a strange comfort in the slow pedantic rhythm of life, knowing he is solid and safe beneath you. Jason presses kisses to your hair. The song he hums lost in the quiet of the room, more felt than heard. You smile up at your big softie of a boyfriend. Jason looked back at you with concerned eyes. Guilt gnawed at his spine, crisp and biting. He knew you were looking forward to this. You’d been talking about spending the holidays with your family for weeks.
Jason wasn’t particularly fond of the holidays, growing up in a place like Gotham did that to you. For some reason, every nut job in Gotham felt the need to go apeshit and set the city on fire during the holidays. But Jason happily listened to you ramble about previous holidays simply because you looked radiant when you were excited. Bonus points for the fact that half of your stories were hilarious while the other half was just disgustingly wholesome.
Truth be told, Jason was a little thankful when he first heard about the blizzard. He’d been nervous about meeting your family. You were perfect and Jason was just, well, Jason. You were way out of his league. He felt bad after that which is why he’s been a little grumpy. Compound this guilt with the fact that it was his fault you guys were even in this mess. God, he really needed to make this up to you somehow.
You blinked awake at the soft sound of the door opening. You lifted your head to see Jason clumsily entering your room with a bunch of ingredients in hand. Your smile widens at the stupid ‘Do you even gift?’ Christmas sweater he has on.
You don’t know how he pulled it off. You have a theory that it involved bribing persuading some of the hotel staff. Jason managed to amass a modest supply of ingredients for a Christmas dinner for two. But being the stubborn wonderful girlfriend that you are, you don’t let him get away with preparing dinner alone. Jason protests, halfheartedly but it’s hard to ignore the small smile curving his lips.
You cook and chop all while singing whatever half-remembered holiday songs came to mind. Well, it was mostly you singing while Jason hummed along. You could see his ears turn beat red as he hummed with you. You’re pretty sure you’ve told Jason a million times how much you love his singing voice. He waved you off every time as his other hand tries to rub away the blush creeping up his neck. Those were the times that truly tested your strength. You wanted to squeal from how adorable Jason was but you know the second you said anything your boyfriend would spontaneously combust. Instead, you usually let him stew in his shyness.
Dinner was, of course, delicious and you teased him endlessly about how proud Alfie would be if he saw this. You even snapped a few photos to send to the old butler. You would send them as soon as you get a signal again.
After cleaning up, Jason held out his hand. There is an edge of nervousness in his features. You smile at him kindly, taking his hand. He circles his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him down for a kiss. You two sway as Jason hums as a soft tune to you and only you. He pressed his face into your hair murmuring the lyrics quietly to you. A small secret shared between the two of you. You love his voice but more than anything you love that he lets you hear it. You recognize the song. Jason once told you offhandedly about his Christmases when Catherine was around. It was a simple affair of warm soup and Catherine singing Christmas songs. This one was one of her favorite songs.
You closed your eyes, soaking in the sharp corners of his syllables, thick and brisk even in the softness of the song. This was the Jason you got to keep all to yourself.
Jason gives you another kiss every time you two pass another mistletoe. “A lot of mistletoe seems to appear when I’m around you,” you joke against his lips. Jason smiles against you deepening the kiss before pulling away. “Was hoping you’d notice.”
The snowfall outside is more gentle as you two dance the night away.