Christmas in Blüdhaven: Fruits of Labor
by Smitty
It was dawn when Tim returned, peeping in the living room windows with the rose and gold rays of the sun. He was late and if anyone saw him crawling in the window of the apartment, it was entirely his own fault.
Cass and Kon were piled on the floor in front of the television, still in costume. Cass' hood was down and her head rested on Kon's shoulder. Kon's head was tilted back against the couch and he was snoring. An empty plate of cookie crumbs and several mugs were sitting on the coffee table. Two of the mugs were empty, the third filled with cold hot chocolate.
They had been waiting up for him.
Tim left the television on. He knew that if he shut it off, they'd both wake up.
In the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator door and began pulling out every breakfast item he could find. He couldn't remember how many eggs to make so he scrambled the whole dozen. Bacon, toast, jelly, juice. When he'd filed the table, he went to the living room and turned off the television. Then he locked himself in his room.
They were his friends and they deserved better.
Author's Note: Christmas in Blüdhaven is written in the same general style as Jingle Bells, my attempt to write 24 200-word ficlets--one per day until Christmas, sort of like an Advent calendar--with characters from around the DCU. Christmas in Blüdhaven differs, however, by each of the ficlets being loosely linked and progressing toward a greater conclusion. The title was derived from the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's "Christmas in Sarajevo" because everything and everyone in Blüdhaven is currently something of a wreck.