Jason said he'd make hot chocolates half an hour ago, and he's prevented you from doing so by caging you in his arms on the sofa. The snow trickles by across the glass windows, fireplace crackling to fight off the growing cold. The point of coming out here was so they could enjoy an isolated Christmas out in nature, get their minds off things for a little while. And yet, the weather had persisted and persisted until they were completely snowed in.

Jason didn't seem to mind, you thought. In fact, you were pretty sure he preferred this. Which was a shame, because you had wanted to see the lake and throw snowballs at his head, maybe try and match the colour of his white streak. Now, Jason was being lazy, like a log on the sofa; a heavy log, that wouldn't budge, even to make the hot chocolate that he promised.

"This is comfortable as it is," he grumbled, hand gently running over the knobs of your spine gently. Last Christmas at the Manor, Jason looked ready to blow a fuse, after a few hours becoming increasingly more turned off by the gathering. You felt like this was better for him right now, with everything that was going on with Bruce. A bit of peace; a bit of weight off his shoulders.

So you wouldn't push the hot chocolates. He sighed when you gently patted his head, cracking one eye open.

"I'm not a dog," he frowned, peppering a rough peck on your cheek. His eyes softened momentarily, patting your back in a similar manner. You might have made the same retort if he didn't give you a softer kiss on the corner of your mouth. "Merry Christmas."