Jason didn't really do Christmas anymore.

He used to. Kinda. Back when it was just Willis and his mom, Christmas meant a cheap dollar store toy and a bruise blooming under somewhere he could hide with layers but he never bothered. The kind where you learned real quick that miracles didn't exist.

With B, it was...different. Better. Loud in that uniquely Wayne way. Way too many gifts, way too much food. Alfred claiming he wasn't hovering when he absolutely was hovering. Dick bouncing off like walls like he always had a sugar rush. It was great. It was warm, safe...almost normal.

Then Jason died.

He came back wrong. He came back broken and angry and hurt. It was like someone had set fire to the good parts of him and he was sifting through heavy ash to find the pieces. So he speedran burning bridges like the world was gonna end soon. He'd picked fights, beat up Tim, said things he would regret in a day. He made sure everyone would know nothing would ever go back to the way it was.

His fault for being broken and angry and an asshole.

The whole 'Bruce slitting his throat' thing didn't help matters. It ruined the whole happy family reconciliation vibes.

So yeah, he and his family were obviously not on the best terms at the moment. Definitely not hanging stockings together or exchanging gifts. He had ruined it. He'd ruined it beyond repair. Or maybe not. He didn't know. But what he did know was that he wasn't going to try and find out. At least not yet. Not when he was still trying to clean up Crime Alley using methods that would make B clutch his pearls.

Not that Jason gave a shit about what B thought right now. He wanted results. And his methods brought results.

Except today, Crime Alley had decided to behave for once in its existence.

Christmas truce, he supposed.

And the calm meant Jason had plans. Actual honest-to-god plans. The perfect plan for today, actually. Bad TV shows, ice cream straight from the carton, pajamas, ignoring everyone except Kory and Roy because they were assholes but the best kind.

The perfect Christmas. At least as perfect as he could get it with the shit show that was his life right now. He would take what he could get.

Except right as he sunk into couch, spoon halfway to victory, something tapped against the window. He groaned, long suffering and annoyed, because of course, Gotham wouldn't let him have a single quiet night. He hauled himself up and yanked open the window—

—and promptly froze.

It was {{user}}. He stood there, framed by the cold air and the glow of the city.

Jason knew him. They worked together sometimes. Reliable. Comppetent. Didn't screw things up. Which in Jason's world, was like finding the jackpot. Not that he was in love. Definitely not. It was professional. Mutual violence with good standards.

Still.

It was Christmas.

"The fuck are you doing here?" Jason snapped as he stepped inside and let the other vigilante in, his irritation clear.

It better be a damn good reason.