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“I didn't even want to host this stupid thing.” Jason complains, watching you fix the decorations around the apartment.
He had made minimal effort setting the streamers up and just shoving the more “frivolous” decor onto one surface. He'd never say it out loud but he liked watching you fuss over his place, determined to make it look nice for his sake. It made him appreciate past him and his abrupt decision to ask you to move in.
Commitment frightened Jason, or it was frightened of Jason as he preferred to put it. He was coming off a bad hangover one morning, only half sober when he made the comment. You were stunned and almost cried before remembering he wasn't all there. You reminded him later when he was completely sober and unwilling to go back on his words—especially not when you were looking so happy—he asked again, this time conscious of his paranoia, feeding him ways he could be rejected. But you said yes, and have burrowed your way into his heart and hearth every day since.
He was unsettled when your shoes weren't by the door as they always were since you moved in. One neat and upright while the other was tossed angrily down the small hallway. It was because you were always able to slip one off your foot without touching it, but the other was always somehow suctioned to your foot and by the time you got it off you were so frustrated you would just toss it. It became a ridiculous ritual that Jason started searching for before it even happened.This place was always just a temporary bed;somewhere to lay low when he wasn’t working as Red Hood. He never imagined since all he’s been through, that he’d find another place to call home.
“You’re the one who offered.” You remind him with a snort, legs shaking as you strain to reach impossible heights and tack the seventh row of fairy lights around the house for “ambience”.
“I was drunk.” He grumbles defensively, arms crossed as he slowly walks up behind you to hold your waist to steady you.
“Tipsy.” You correct, and Jason thinks it’s no different. “Also–-You always complain about Dick tricking you into people things. You should know by now not to talk to him when you’re inebriated. You did say ‘maybe we should be normal for once.’ Remember?”
“Yeah, well. I was clearly not in my right mind.” He grimaces.
You laugh and he brings you closer as soon as you finish what you were doing. Jason’s face settles between your neck and shoulder where you can feel him quietly inhale. On a normal day you’d tease him, maybe accuse him of being creepy just for fun, but you let it slide today. Jason had been nothing but anxious all morning. And it was all because of the small gathering he was hosting at home.
He would never admit it to anyone, not even you, but he loved his family. He just wasn’t confident in where he stood with them. There was a divide, even when he was on good terms with everyone. He was haunted by his actions from the past and Bruce…Bruce haunted him even more. The paternal head of the Wayne family was hard to read sometimes. The fact that he’d even made time to attend this stupid party had Jason’s head spinning. When were they not at odds as of late? He couldn’t remember.
“It’s too late. Everyone’s already said they were coming—do you know how many of them I had to convince not to come early? I’m pretty sure they’re bringing food too.” You place your hands over the ones on your waist.
Your voice brings Jason back down to Earth.
“Everyone.” He echoes, sounding disgusted. “Dick’s convinced he’s a chef. He’s probably going to make some weird ass rich people food like caviar on brioche.” He makes an exaggerated gagging noise as he lifts his head. “Tim’s annoying on his own and—God, Damian!” He groans.
“He’s going to complain about everything—the decor, the food. Ungrateful—”
“Sounds like you.” You grin, turning to see his face of utter betrayal.
“There’s no way you just said that. My own—Damian?”
“He’s like twelve Jason.”
“Exactly. Worst kind of kid.” He mutters, so earnestly you shake your head.
“So hopeless.” You say with a soft laugh, pecking his cheek before he can pull away.
You leave him to continue decorating, putting the finishing touches on the small, balding Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. Jason insisted on it, something about “feeling a kinship” with such an ugly duckling. He scowls and stands back, watching you with folded arms once more.
Truthfully, the sight of you fixing up the place was tooth-achingly domestic. Jason still feels like an outsider in his own home sometimes, especially when you’re around. He’s not used to having things just for the sake of it. Or waking up to a cute—stupid, but cute—plush animal staring at him from his bed. He felt like a stray dog that wandered too far into an open home, where the person living inside just gave him a bed and food without question, and he forgot how to leave. He didn’t want to leave.
A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts. He quickly glances at the time.
“Ten minutes early.” He mutters darkly.
“I told you. I tried. Never said they listened to me.” You shrug. He gives you a look and mercifully, you go to open the door for him. Never mind it was his party. You were practically an extension of him by now. The much better Jason.
You open the door and in comes Dick Grayson almost running you over as he enters with several tupperware stacked on top of each other. He rushes in to set them down in your kitchen, unwittingly knocking you back into Jason’s chest. Your boyfriend catches you with a grunt, touching a hand against your hip to keep you steady.
“Watch it, Grayson! You almost mowed them over!” He barks, growing protective for a split second.
Dick reappears from the kitchen looking guilty. He chuckles while slowly walking closer to you.
“Jay, buddy…let’s not be too—” He yelps, pulling back the hand he was slowly inching toward your shoulder—to attempt a consoling pat nonetheless.
Jason glares at him, and Dick has the decency to be a little afraid and back off. Jason’s clearly still tensed and watching his brother when you step in to de-escalate.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Let’s not cause a blood feud over an accident, Jason.” You say, eyeing him with a ‘Please relax for once in your life and have a good time with your weird family?’ look.
“He should know better, he’s a freakin’ vigilante for god's sake. How difficult it is to watch—” He stops at your grunt, turning to look at you and then Dick when you point.
The eldest Robin is staring at his adoptive little brother with the widest eyes only he could muster, eyes sparkling with guilt and pleading for mercy. Jason wouldn’t say it out loud but his scoff and a quick,
“Whatever, man…” muttered under his breath tells you he’s not mad anymore.
Dick calms down a bit, now knowing he wasn’t at risk of getting punched anymore and throws you a super apologetic glance. He reaches for your shoulder only to flinch when Jason coughs loudly and settles for a quick pat.
“I’ll uh…keep my distance.” He mumbles.
“Can you help me set up all the food for when everyone else gets here?” You offer and he smiles and nods.
“Yeah!. Yeah. I’ll do that. Stay away from Jason’s…apparently very fragile partner.” He grins, unable to resist teasing Jason as he runs off into the kitchen before said man can lunge at him.
Jason growls, Grayson knows how to press his buttons so easily, even though he’s supposed to be the favourite brother. He runs a stressed hand through his hair.
“No way more people are going to show—” He begins to mutter, interrupted by knocking. He looks about to collapse with both anger and anxiety. His shoulders roll back stiffly.
“Seriously? Does no one in this family know what being on time means? Isn’t it rude to show up so early?” He grumbles.
You stroke his arm, watching his muscles slowly relax under your touch. He doesn’t say it—and he doesn’t have to. The soft look he gives you is enough. He doesn’t think he’d be here right now, doing this, if you weren’t with him.
“Please…?” He mumbles and the request is clear. ‘Open the door?’.
You smile softly, squeezing his arm before pulling away to answer the door. Behind it is Tim looking exhausted as usual, tapping away at his phone. He jolts at the sound of the door and hastily shoves the phone in his pocket. He thrusts a box of cupcakes, bought from a bakery in a haste it would seem. The container is bent out of shape, and some icing is stuck to the lid.
“I’m late. Sorry, I was busy. I had all this work to do—” He glances behind you. “No…one else is here yet?”
You smile sweetly, taking the box from him.
“You’re early, actually. Just Dick is here right now.”
He glances at his hands with pure confusion. Some one tuts from behind him and Jason lets out an audible curse when Damian pushes past Tim inside.
“You were tricked by a fool. Brown set all your clocks back so you wouldn’t be so embarrassingly late.” He says before setting his naturally accusatory glance on you.Tim yells incoherently behind you as he’s gently shushed by Dick and shoved into the kitchen.
Damian’s critiquing eyes scan the room around him, his lip curling at the sight of your depressing tree with disgust.
“Taste cannot be helped I suppose.” He mutters. “Todd, your home is about as I imagined.”
Jason looks about two more words away from kicking Damian out the window.
“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” He says, almost waiting for Damian to keep going so he could do something.
“Small.” Damian replies, he turns to you with a curt nod. “Greetings.”
You smile politely, tilting your head to spot a gift bag behind him. Quickly stifling your surprise, you look back to the young Wayne.
“Hi. Thanks for coming, Damian. We–” You glance at Jason. “I’m happy you came.”
He huffs, but Jason knew Damian for long enough to see his usual manner slightly drop. He was satisfied with your words. Damian shoves the bag into your hands, deliberately ignoring Jason’s look.
“I brought a gift. For the household—not Todd.” He mutters.
Jason balks, an undignified look at the way his youngest brother not only brought a gift—but managed to somehow express affection for you and diss him at the same time.
You beam.
“How thoughtful! Thank you so much.”
Jason narrows his eyes at him, stepping closer to you.
“S’Probably something rigged to kill all of us.” He mutters. “Or just me.”
Damian glares up at him. “I am not some idiot scoundrel like you—”
“Thanks again! Let’s go make sure Dick and Tim aren’t breaking anything okay?” You cut in and miraculously Damian listens, swivelling around on his heel to march into the kitchen.
“I made tabouleh with Alfred. He’s bringing it with him.” The young Robin throws over his shoulder, “ —That’s a salad, Todd. Healthy.”
Jason grumbles and takes a heavy step after him but you pull him back. He looks ruffled still, but he stays with you, breathing in and out slowly.
“This is good!” You try to jostle him, with cheer. “He’s trying. This is the nicest I’ve ever seen him—I know you don’t like all this, but it’s going really well.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“He’s pissing me off.” He says to you, low enough for just your ears. His shoulders do lower however, and his expression softens the longer his eyes stay on you. “...alright. Not bad. Yet.” He whispers.
He leans down to kiss your forehead, staying there after his lips have retreated. He’s soft, as he is only for you nowadays. He needs you like a balm to his heated heart, you cool him off when his face feels hot with rage, when his hands itch with blood. It’s always you.
“You’re the only reason I’m doing this.” He mutters.
“You keep telling yourself that. You love them.” You grin cheekily.
He scoffs but you see his lips quirk.
“Tim no—” Dick hurries to save something but you both hear a crash from in the kitchen.
“This is why I’m the only one that can cook!” Dick continues to yell, exasperated.
Jason sighs, closing his eyes like it’s a bad dream.
“...I need a minute before Bruce comes.” He mumbles.
You let him have that minute, and he’d have stolen many more if the yelling hadn’t led to where you both were and you had to separate before they could see their dear brother be so loved. Jason wouldn’t dream of hosting his family again–but this would be a memory he’d hold close. All because of you.