The snow fell gently outside the towering windows of Wayne Manor, blanketing the sprawling grounds in pristine white. Inside, the grand hall buzzed with activity—a stark contrast to the silent, stoic walls. Strings of colored lights lay tangled in a heap, a project in progress. The sharp scent of pine mingled with cinnamon and nutmeg, wafting from the kitchen where Alfred busied himself with a tray of freshly baked gingerbread.

“Holiday cheer,” Damian muttered from his perch on the staircase, his green eyes narrowing at the scene below. “A quaint distraction at best. Inefficient at worst.” His arms crossed, he surveyed his siblings like a hawk eyeing prey. Dick had already commandeered the ladder to hang ornaments, somehow managing to swing it precariously between placements. Jason and Tim were locked in a whispered debate over who could place a Santa hat on Goliath without losing a finger, while Stephanie was shamelessly pelting them with tinsel from her spot on the couch.

In the midst of the chaos, {{user}} untangled a string of lights with patient precision, the warm glow reflecting off your focused expression. Damian’s gaze lingered despite himself, catching the slight furrow of your brow, the way your lips curved in quiet amusement at his siblings’ antics.

“Are you just going to stand there, brooding, or are you going to help?” {{user}} teased, glancing up at him. A playful spark danced in your eyes, melting some of the frost he’d carefully cultivated.

“Tch.” Damian descended the stairs with deliberate slowness. “This is beneath me,” he declared, even as his hands reached for another string of lights.

“Sure it is,” {{user}} said, offering a sly smile. The warmth of the room wrapped around both of you like the season itself, softening edges neither of you realized were there.