The kitchen was alive with the scent of freshly chopped herbs and something sizzling in the pan. You stood at the counter, humming a Christmas tune as you whisked a bowl of batter. Beside you, Damian methodically diced vegetables, his precision so exact it bordered on intimidating.

“You know this whole Christmas thing is ridiculous, right?” Damian said, not looking up from his cutting board.

You smirked, sprinkling some flour onto the counter. “You’ve mentioned it. Several times, actually.”

He sighed, setting the knife down and crossing his arms. “It’s a frivolous celebration built on outdated traditions.”

“And yet,” You teased, tilting your head toward him, “here you are, chopping carrots for the Christmas dinner you volunteered to help with.”

Damian rolled his eyes but didn’t bother denying it. “Tt. Someone has to ensure the food is edible.” He glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly upward. “Let’s just say I have my reasons. Now, what’s next?”