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Jason Todd is not expecting any company for Christmas.
His helmet abandoned on the coffee table, recently removed, and his armour still clasped together under his jacket.
He just finished a very festive patrol around Gotham, punching criminals and getting punched back. His ribs are definitely going to bruise by Christmas day and he has blood on his knuckles that’s beginning to dry.
He should clean that up.
Instead, Jason drops down onto the couch with a grunt. Christmas eve, and he’s alone in a shady apartment where his only neighbours are probably rats. Just how he likes it.
It’s not like no one invites him, he has about twelve invitations mailed by Dick directly to his door because “it’s more personable that way”. Jason just lets them sit by his door. He likes being alone. Christmas was pointless anyway.
He was never good enough to get gifts from Santa, his mom never gave him more than some dinner on Christmas day. That was his gift, she’d always tell him.
Yeah, nothing like Christmas alone.
Jason leans his head back, eyes fixed to the ceiling. He exhales slowly, feeling the tender spots of skin over his ribs as he does so.
Then, he hears a knock at the door. A persistent knock, maybe three.
Jason sits up quickly, grimacing at his side. His hand flies to the weapon belt he hadn’t bothered to detach yet.
Bruce doesn’t knock, neither does anyone else he knows. Most would just open the door or climb through the window. It was the kind of problem solving that made Jason feel less bad about locking everything before anyone got too comfortable.
Jason nears the door with practiced caution. “Yeah?” He calls out roughly. “Building’s condemned.”
Maybe it’s just some stupid kids that haven’t learned the Christmas miracle that is Gotham and its neverending stream of unsavoury inhabitants.
“...You live in a condemned building?” Your voice comes through the cracks and his shoulders visibly drop.
Of course it’s you.
The rookie he’d meant to scare off weeks ago, who instead learned his routes, his habits, and when to ignore his orders. You were a thorn in his side and yet he couldn’t refute that it was helpful to have someone watching his back—even if he was stuck watching yours too.
He was both relieved it was just you and annoyed you had somehow found his place.
Jason sighs, drops his hand from his holster and walks to the door. He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob.
“Wrong address.” He tries one more time.
There’s a beat of silence until he hears you scoff from the other side.
“I’ve literally followed you so many times. You can’t trick me!” You sound almost offended he’d even try.
Jason shuts his eyes tightly, exhaling loudly before he twists the door open.
Well. It’s you.
Snow clings to your clothes and eyelashes and he can guess how long you’ve been outside when you sniffle loudly.
Jason scowls at you to no effect.
“You’re insane…” He mutters, trailing off in slight horror as he scans your face again. Your face. In clear view, no mask or hood covering it up.
It’s almost comical how uncomfortable he suddenly is, seeing your features altogether rather than their own separate entities framed by dark cloth.
Somehow this feels worse than anything he’s been through with you.
You’ve fought beside each other for weeks, he’s bled next to you. He’s trusted you with watching his back, but right now, staring at your bare face with no hint of the vigilante alias you wear at night?
Yeah. This is worse.
Jason clears his throat, actively pretending he wasn’t staring a second too long.
“I thought I told you we weren’t sharing identities.” He mutters.
You click your tongue and wave a hand limply between you.
“Ah, no biggie. I mean, I trust you.” You say, fidgeting with your hands—which Jason now sees are occupied with far too many bags to not be suspicious. “It wasn’t the plan, but I couldn’t come here without revealing myself. I was not going to wrestle all that crap back on just to knock on your door. I just changed!”
Jason stares at you in disbelief. I trust you. It’s so stupid how much those three words had stuck with him. He already knows he’ll be thinking about it for days to come. Not for any reason other than he can’t believe how stupid you are. No other reason.
Jason huffs. “You…are so bad at keeping secrets,” he mutters, eyes flicking to the bags. “Has anyone taught you the art of self-preservation or were you born under a rainbow?”
You follow his eyes and shift awkwardly.
“Look,” you say as you move back to him. “I wasn’t trying to be weird—for once. I just…figured you didn’t have plans for the holidays and well…” You raise the bags in your hands.
“I got nowhere to go either this year. So.”
Jason stares at you for a long moment. The bags. The snow. Your bare face.
He clicks his tongue, irritated.
“You’re freezing,” he mutters, stepping aside and pulling the door open wider. “Get in before you catch something.”
“I’m not picking up your patrols if you get sick.” He adds over his shoulder as he turns away, leaving you there.
You step inside, relieved it worked.
The door closes behind you with a soft click, cutting out the cold. Inside Jason’s place isn’t that much warmer as you spot a busted heater by the back corner of the living room, but he seems to have mountains of blankets and hoodies around.
Jason drops back onto the couch, the cushions worn out and creaking under his weight. He thinks about just leaving his jacket and armour on, but one look at your cozy attire has him softly huffing as he unlatches his chest plate, letting clatter on the floor. He sits there, elbows braced against his knees, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you move in and set your bags on the kitchen counters.
His eyes narrow at the heavy thud of one of the bags as it hits the counter.
“What’s in the bags.”
You look over your shoulder, looking guilty. “...Bag stuff.”
He glares at the poorly hidden foil peaking out from one of them.
You sigh dramatically, then open one of the bags his way.
“Food. I wanted to do something like a holiday dinner…but like—affordable.” You explain. “The guy gave this whole thing to me for like…ten dollars. There’s half a turkey in here.”
He grunts, throwing his head back and tugging at his hair.
“You should have just got a pizza.”
You scoff, “That’s not festive, ” you then turn to pull out a pizza box from the bottom of the bag. “I also got one because I figured you’d say that.”
He snorts, sliding a hand over his mouth to hide the little amused grin he had. Shit. You were more involved in his life than he ever would admit.
After a moment of dreadful reflecting, Jason turns back to actually look at you in the kitchen. You’re still hovering by the bags, watching him carefully. He sighs.
“...That better be all.” He mutters, beckoning you with a hand. “Bring that pizza over.”
You eat together on the couch, balancing containers between you, knees occasionally bumping. Jason complains under his breath, but he eats more than he means to. You don’t comment.
The TV stays on low, some holiday feelgood movie neither of you are watching. At some point, Jason grabs a blanket and tosses it over your lap without thinking.
You glance at him.
“Shut up.” He shuts down any teasing.
Time blurs. Jason’s body still aches and his limbs grow heavy. He shifts, slouching further into the couch, exhaustion finally catching up with him.
Your voice melts in his head, barely coherent to him.
He sits up, alert when your head tips back, eyes fluttering closed.
He tells himself he’ll wake you in a minute.
Instead, your head rolls gently to the side, coming to rest against his shoulder.
Jason freezes.
He doesn’t move you. Doesn’t breathe too deep. Just stares straight ahead, jaw tight, heart doing something annoying in his chest.
After a moment, he adjusts the blanket so it covers both of you.
“…I’m so fucked,” he murmurs.
But he stays right where he is. Reluctantly resting his against yours and letting his eyes shut.
He’ll have to figure out a better way to convince you to do this again without letting you know he enjoyed it.
Right now all he can think about is what he’ll do in the morning, which is nothing sensible.
dickhead: hey. hey jay.
dickhead: you weren't at the manor for dinner so i am the best and brought some leftovers
dickhead: who is that
dickhead: jason
dickhead: jayyyy?
dickhead: did you kiss them
[blocked]: omg