a/n: wrote this like the day before christmas 2022? or the day itself?
I saw Jason kissing…
Honestly, Jason didn't mean to forget Christmas.
To be fair, it's Christmas Eve so he didn't actually forget Christmas itself, but still, it's cutting it close and, well, it's a holiday that's kind of hard to miss with all the red and green décor. Frankly, he hasn't had much to do with the holiday the past two years, never really had anyone to celebrate it with, to buy gifts for, so it was more out of habit that he paid no mind to the lights, the music, all the peppermint flavored food advertised on café and restaurant windows.
It's in pretty poor practice that he doesn't notice such obvious signs, he's a detective, he's supposed to see these things, observe, but he's been busy. There were finals to study for, drug deals to bust, bad guys to rough up and throw in jail, sometimes even the hospital first. Jason's got better things to do than stuff some stockings or prepare chocolate chip cookies and milk to leave out for Santa Claus.
The jolly old saint wouldn't be able to get them anyway, what with Jason's new security system set up.
So, really, it was only when Jason stopped a robbery by criminals dressed in red with sacks thrown over their shoulders that he finally got the hint. The red hats with white cotton balls glued to the ends of their point helped, too.
"Pretty sure Santa's supposed to be leaving the gifts, not taking them." He says as his only warning, just so he could see the look on their faces when they realize who's caught them, before he shoots, careful to not kill anyone, but definitely aimed to scare, to immobilize.
It's an easy fight. The Santa-wannabes go down easily, so easily that Jason's a little disappointed.
But it's Christmas Eve, so maybe it's a sign that he should head back home, spend the holiday with someone he actually cares about.
It's just that he doesn't really have a gift to give, nothing to put under the small tree—now he realizes that it's a Christmas tree—she had set up on the table next to their sofa and all the shops are closed early so that employees clock out and be with their families. Maybe he could make something, but no, that's a bad idea. It all circles back to everything being closed and not having enough time.
He really should have been paying more attention. He's pretty sure the grocery he was at the other day was blaring Jingle Bells, maybe even that song about the reindeer with the nose, while he looked for ingredients for spaghetti and meatballs.
wer r u?
come home soon?
The words, like always, tickle when they appear on his skin, like a gentle caress trying to get his attention. Jason stares at the words on his skin, the way her penmanship looks so soft and dainty against the harsh scars and thinks that he'll just make it up to her when he gets home. He'll cook dinner tonight, he's sure he can whip up something Christmas-y and if he can't, well, cookies are always an option. It's the first thing Alfred taught him to make and the years of anger and hurt could not wash away those memories.
…
"There you are!" She greets once he's inside the door.
There's Christmas music playing softly in the background and Jason notes that their apartment is dimly lit, a sort of orange makes their living room seem warm, cozy, in theme. She's set the mood. But he needs to get out of his boots first so he doesn't track any dirt or grime onto their nice clean floors. It takes a second, it's needlessly complicated but he needs the support so he can't really complain.
"I'm back, mouse. Sorry I'm late," he says, voice distracted as he works on the other boot. His gaze is lowered, focused on the clasps and the laces, but once he's free from it, he straightens up, which, hurts, but at least he's home and she's always been good at alleviating his pain.
The first thing he sees are her white, thigh high socks. No, that's not right. They're not completely white, no, each leg has a red bow tied around her thigh, squeezing the flesh in such a way that Jason's first thought is that he wants to bite it.
Which is shocking, he normally tries to push those kinds of thoughts away, but his eyes continue their journey anyway, taking in the shortness of her red dress, the way the white lining barely covers what Jason has yet to be privy to. There's a thick black belt around her waist, cinching it, revealing curves that she doesn't normally show off. Then there's that white lining again teasing him, taunting him, daring him to keep his gaze on her chest, on the exposed skin.
And Jason, Jason is only human so he lingers for a second longer than he normally would.
He wonders what else he'll find her wearing, wonders if she's wearing a Santa hat, too. He thinks that red is definitely her color and Jason's pretty sure he'll never look at a gold belt buckle the same way again. So, he's excited to take in what she looks like above her tantalizing costume, see what she's done with her make up, her hair, but what he sees once he moves on from the slope of her shoulders, her neck, makes him to burst out into laughter.
"Mouse. Seriously?"
"What?" She says in the most innocent tone she can muster and he's pretty sure she's grinning behind the white beard she has on. "You don't like?"
"I just didn't expect—is that glued on?"
She strokes her beard in a thoughtful manner and Jason finds himself laughing all over again.
"I think it completes the look."
"You're looking very festive, yes. Have you been wearing that the whole night?"
"Nah. I threw this on just for you." She approaches him now, hips swaying, and the image is very confusing with the beard. She's slow to wrap her arms around him, always giving him a chance to stop her if he wanted to, but Jason's used to her touch, craves it, so he welcomes her embrace. Even if the beard is a little itchy. "So tell me, have you been a good boy this year?"
"Oh, most definitely not." He tugs on her beard, sees that its simply looped around her ears.
"Darn. Guess that means no present for you." Her shoulders sag and she even manages to look a little disappointed.
"I'm sure you can make an exemption?" His hands seem to have a mind of their own, they're enjoying the velvety texture of her dress, rubbing up and down, daring to even go lower.
"No can do. I'm a stickler for the rules." But still she manages to step even closer, craning her neck to look at him and Jason has to tilt his chin down so he can keep her gaze. His hands take this as their chance to make a move and oh, would you look at that, she doesn't seem to mind. "But, I am a sucker for tradition."
It says a lot about their relationship, how in tune they are, that Jason can practically read her mind, can tell that she wants him to look up with just a pump of her eyebrows, a flutter of her lashes. And when Jason tears his eyes away from her to see what she has hung on the ceiling, he grins.
Mistletoe.
"So, what do you say?" Her voice brings his attention back to her and Jason, Jason has never been more in love with her. "Feeling the Christmas spirit?"
"Lose the beard, mouse."
And she tears it off quickly if not a little violently, snapping the elastic off and tossing the beard over her shoulder. Jason feels the sting behind his own ears, but he finds that he doesn't particularly care right now because there's his girl, his pretty little mouse, all decked out in his color.
"Merry Christmas, Jason," she whispers, eyes closing as their faces draw closer together.
Their kiss is sweet, she's definitely had some hot chocolate while waiting for him, and Jason can't help himself, he deepens the kiss in a way that makes her let out a surprised squeak before she melts into his embrace.
And Jason, Jason thinks he's never going to forget Christmas now.
