Work Text:
“Jay, admit it,” Penny said, hands on her hips as she surveyed the battlefield—also known as their living room. “We should’ve paid extra for the assembly option.”
Jason scoffed, kneeling beside a very large, very intimidating box of unassembled furniture parts. “Babe, it’s literally a bookshelf. Four boards and some screws. Kids could do this.”
“One: children are smarter than adults. Two: there are at least twelve boards, fifty screws, and three mystery pieces that look like IKEA forgot about physics.”
Jason waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve rebuilt motorcycles. I’ve reassembled weapons without instructions. I can handle a bookshelf.”
Penny raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Cool, but you don’t usually put guns together from a Scandinavian blueprint.”
He pointed to the instruction manual. “Not Scandinavian. Gotham local company.”
“They named the bookshelf ‘Flörg’.”
Jason paused. “…Okay, point taken.”
Assembly: Phase One — Confident Idiot Mode
Jason opened the box with all the swagger of a man who absolutely believed he had control of the situation.
He did not.
Boards tumbled out, two landing on his foot.
Penny bit her lip. “Do you need help?”
“Nope,” he grunted, pretending it didn’t hurt. “I got this.”
She shrugged and began sorting screws by size with meticulous precision.
“You know,” Jason added smugly, “it’s cute watching you try to be useful.”
Penny froze.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
She turned her head toward him.
“¿Perdón, idiota?”
“…What does that mean?” Jason asked warily.
“Oh nothing,” she said sweetly. “Just appreciating your… big brain.”
Then she muttered under her breath. “El ego más grande del mundo.”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “You’re cursing me out, aren’t you?”
“Noooo,” Penny lied, shooting him a playful smirk.
Phase Two — We Are Losing
Jason had connected two boards. They were wrong.
“Jay,” Penny whispered, staring at the loosest, wobbliest contraption in existence, “that looks… safe?”
“Safe is relative.”
“It looks like if a gust of wind hits it, it’ll crumble.”
“It’s artsy.”
“It’s a danger to society.”
Jason growled, undoing his mistake. “Fine. Then you do it.”
“I was trying,” Penny said sweetly, leaning forward to grab a piece, only for Jason to intercept her hand instantly.
“No,” he said seriously. “I can do this. Just—hand me that thingy.”
She blinked. “Which thingy?”
“That thingy.”
He pointed vaguely.
“The screw? The dowel? The bracket? The—”
“The thingy, Penny.”
She rolled her eyes so hard she could see the back of her skull and handed him a screw.
“Oui, parce que c'est tellement utile…” she breathed out.
“That’s got to be cursing!” Jason spluttered. “You think I wouldn’t recognize that one?!”
“Hmm,” Penny hummed innocently.
Phase Three — Penny’s Revenge
Ten minutes later, the bookshelf resembled a structural hazard exhibit.
Penny crossed her arms. “Jay. Let me help.”
“No.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“No.”
“You know what they say…” Penny said solemnly.
Then she switched to Russian, muttering “Упрямый кретин.”
Jason whipped his head toward her.
“Just because you're speaking in a different language, doesn’t mean that I don’t know when you are cursing me out.”
Penny gasped dramatically. “Me?! Curse you out? Never!”
“Uh-huh.” Jason squinted. “Spanish, French, Russian? What else you got in there?”
She grinned wickedly. “Oh, plenty.”
Phase Four — Teamwork Breakdown
Jason finally sat back, glaring at the remains of his pride and lumber.
“…Maybe we should read the instructions.”
Penny smiled, lifting the manual like a royal decree.
“I’ve been voting for that option for the last thirty minutes.”
He sighed, defeated. “Fine. What’s it say?”
She flipped through the pages. “Step one: don’t let your husband do all the work.”
Jason tried not to laugh and failed. “It does not say that.”
“Spiritually, it does.”
She scooted closer, their knees touching as she pointed at the diagrams, her voice calm, patient, adorable. Jason followed her lead, and suddenly the pieces started to make sense.
They worked together — properly this time. Jason drove screws in, Penny aligned pieces perfectly. Every so often, he’d look over and catch her smiling at him like he was the best thing in existence.
He would never get used to that.
Victory Achieved
An hour later, a fully assembled, perfectly straight bookshelf stood proudly before them.
Jason dropped the screwdriver, raising his arms triumphantly. “We are furniture gods.”
Penny giggled and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“We did it!”
“You doubted me,” he teased.
“I doubted you doing it without causing emotional trauma,” she corrected, kissing his cheek. “But yes. We did it.”
Jason’s hands settled at her waist, voice dropping to a soft rumble. “Thanks for helping.”
She gently tapped his nose, stifling a giggle as it twitched. “Thanks for letting me before you destroyed the universe.”
He smirked. “So… what were all those curses, exactly?”
Penny smiled sweetly… then whispered in five different languages, fast.
Jason blinked. “That sounded affectionate… and threatening?”
“It was.”
“…I love you.”
She kissed his nose. “I love you too, big brain.”
Jason chuckled, carrying her over to the couch and setting her down gently.
“So… wanna help me put the next one together?”
Penny stared at him.
And switched to Japanese.
“バカ.”
Jason laughed. “Yup. Definitely a curse.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder anyway, smiling.
“It means ‘idiot.’ But you’re my idiot.”
Jason kissed the top of her head.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Bonus Scene — Structural Integrity Is a Suggestion
The next afternoon, Jason and Penny were lounging on the couch, basking in their domestic victory. The newly built bookshelf stood proudly in the corner, gleaming in the sunlight like a monument to teamwork, perseverance, and multilingually-cursed patience.
That was when the doorbell rang.
Jason frowned. “We’re not expecting anyone.”
Penny perked up. “Maybe Alfred sent cookies.”
Jason smirked. “You think Alfred delivers snacks to us like Gotham DoorDash?”
“...He should.”
Jason went to open the door and immediately groaned when he saw who had arrived. “Oh no.”
“Hey, little bro!” Dick sang, breezing into their apartment like he owned the place. “Just thought I’d swing by and check on my favourite married couple.”
Penny grinned and jumped up to hug him. “Hi, Dick!”
“Hey, sunshine.” He hugged her back, then spotted the bookshelf. His eyes widened, impressed. “Whoa! Did you two build that?”
Jason folded his arms proudly. “Damn right we did. Took us an hour.”
Penny coughed. “Two hours and thirty minutes.”
“Technicalities,” Jason said quickly.
Dick circled the bookshelf like an art critic at an exhibit. “Looks good! You even lined up the corners.”
Jason smirked. “Told you I could handle it.”
Penny made a strangled noise. “You handled the part where it almost became modern art.”
Dick laughed. “Okay, okay, domestic bliss — I love it.”
Then he leaned down and poked one of the lower boards.
“Solid work, Jay.”
Jason grinned smugly. “See? Validation.”
Dick tilted his head. “Mind if I…?”
Before Jason could answer, Dick gave the shelf a gentle shake — just a test.
A soft creak filled the room.
Everyone froze.
Penny’s eyes widened. “Jason.”
Jason’s jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare, Dick.”
Dick raised his hands innocently. “I’m barely touching it—”
CRACK.
The middle shelf splintered. A single book slid off.
Then another.
Then the entire structure gave a slow, tragic tilt, like a dying soldier collapsing in slow motion.
THUNK.
Silence.
Jason blinked. “...It was fine a minute ago.”
Dick covered his mouth, eyes watering from trying not to laugh. “I— I’m sorry—”
Then he lost it.
“PFFFT— you built a death-trap bookshelf!”
“It wasn’t a death-trap!” Jason barked, glaring at the fallen furniture. “It just… wasn’t ready for Grayson-level interference!”
Penny had her hands over her face, muffling her laughter. “Jay… it’s… it’s horizontal now.”
“You helped build it!” he said indignantly.
“I read the manual! You used the wrong screws!”
“I was improvising!”
Dick was bent double now, wheezing. “Oh my god— you two— domestic engineers of chaos—”
Jason threw his hands up. “You know what? I’ll rebuild it. Stronger. Faster. Better.”
Penny snorted. “Like the Six Million Dollar Bookshelf?”
“Exactly.”
Dick clapped Jason on the shoulder, still chuckling. “You know, Jay, it’s impressive. Most couples argue over money or dishes. You guys argue over carpentry physics.”
Jason grumbled. “You want to help me rebuild it or what?”
“Oh, no,” Dick said immediately, backing toward the door. “I’d like to live.”
Penny was still giggling as she crouched beside the wreckage, picking up a board. “You know what this means, right?”
Jason sighed. “What?”
She smirked. “Round two.”
Jason stared at her for a moment… then smiled back, that mischievous glint returning to his eyes.
“Fine. But this time, we buy pre-built.”
Dick waved as he left, still laughing. “Just… maybe use fewer curse words next time, Spider-Ma’am.”
Penny called after him, voice playful. “No promises!”
When the door closed, Jason looked down at the pile of splintered wood and sighed.
“Well… at least it wasn’t Bruce.”
Penny leaned against him, grinning. “Yeah. Dick’ll only tease us for a year. Bruce would’ve audited our technique.”
Jason wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Still worth it.”
“For the bookshelf?”
“For the chaos.”
Penny laughed softly, resting her head on his shoulder. “My favourite kind of date night.”
Jason smirked. “Next time, we’re buying a beanbag chair.”
And so, the legend of the Flörg Bookshelf lived — briefly, gloriously, and very horizontally.