ᝰ.ᐟ can’t stop thinking about it being your first winter in gotham and jason cannot handle how underprepared you are. i’m talking, jason who can’t shut up about how you’ve gravely misinterpreted what winter in gotham is. for example, the coat you wear the first snow…is barely a coat. light, breezy, barely insulated. mostly cute rather than practical, and when jason lays eyes on it, he’s running his stupid mouth a mile a minute.
“fuck no. what in the absolute hell are you wearing, babe?” jason barks the minute you step outside. his hands have found their way out of his thick puffer coat’s pockets, snowflakes catching and melting on his black gloves as points to your attire.
you shrug, eyes already teary from the chill, “a coat? i wore it all the time back home.” you grab jason’s arm, pulling yourself into his warmth, “c’mon, i wanna get food before gotham decides to get colder. duke said freeze went berserk last year, i’m not jinxing it.
jason rolls his eyes at you, your sorry excuse for a coat, and the mention of mr. freeze, “we can get food after you come back out here in something built for the weather.”
you go to argue, but jason cuts you off with a tsk and an expression you would go as far to call snooty, “seriously. what the fuck were you thinking? we’ve already got five inches of snow and single digit temps through the night…and you come out here wearing a fuckin’ raincoat.”
“it’s not a raincoat, you ass!” by this point your fighting not to shiver in front of him. damn this gotham cold, and damn your gothamite boyfriend. it’s not your fault you underestimated how bad this shitty city’s winter could be.
jason looks at you for a long second. really looks. the way your shoulders are creeping up toward your ears, the way your nose is already running, the way you’re trying to pretend you’re not thirty seconds from becoming a human popsicle. his jaw tightens, “you’re literally vibrating.” he says flatly.
“i am not!” you immediately shiver. like, full body. teeth chattering and all.
he just stares at you. “fuck. i cannot believe you.” he’s glaring down at you, no hatred in it, just actual, jason todd, disappointment.
“you’re my girl, i can’t have you frozen in this city in the name of soup and hot chocolate.” and with that, he’s shrugging off that black puffer of his, exposing the obvious extra layers underneath it. you’re embarrassed he’s actually dressed for the weather. gloves, beanie, hoodie, thick sweater, and a thermal longsleeve. damn him to hell.
he’s shoving you into the (actual) coat before he even starts muttering, “wear this. you’re fucking crazy. actually fucking insane, babe.”
he doesn’t even wait for your permission. he just grabs your shoulders and turns you, shoves you forward a step, then swings the puffer around you.
it’s immediately too big. it swallows your frame, the hem hitting mid-thigh, the sleeves hanging past your hands.
but it’s also warm. so warm that is causes you to make a small, traitorous sound in your throat.
jason stops, slowly looks down at you, and squints.
“did you just fuckin’ purr?”
he snorts and starts tugging the zipper up himself because of course his control freak psyche has taken the reigns. his fingers are quick and practiced even in gloves, like he’s stripping a gun instead of zipping up his girlfriend.
“unbelievable,” he mutters. “you come to gotham, walk out into a blizzard in a glorified windbreaker, and the second you’re too proud to admit defeat, you’re all, ‘oh, actually this is fine.’”
you burrow into the coat on instinct. it smells like his soap and cologne and a little like the metal of a gun, “this is really warm.”
“yeah. because it’s a real coat. that’s what they do.” he presses two fingers to your forehead like he’s checking for a fever, expression sardonic. “you got hypothermia already, baby? brain gone?”
you swat his hand. “be nice, todd. i just didn’t think it’d be that bad.”
he gives you a look. the kind that says he’s deciding whether to roast you alive, lecture you, or pick you up and carry you back inside your apartment.
he settles for the lecture, roasting hidden within.
“you’re in gotham city.” he says flatly. “winter here isn’t cute. it’s not a little chilly. gotham is actively trying to kill us all at all times. weather included, and sometimes with a guy in a cryo suit.”
“i already said duke told me about freeze—”
“yeah, and you still dressed like a—what the fuck is it called—uber outfits mannequin.”
you glare, “first of all, it’s urban outfitters. and second, i’m fine now.” you throw up your arms, puffer sleeves still covering your hands, “so can we…go? or are you going to starve me?”
“god forbid i starve you for five seconds to prevent you from becoming a human icicle.” he huffs, but holds his hand out for you to grab, “come on, let’s get food.”
you hum, both happy to win and happy he’s finally letting you live down walking out in basically a raincoat.
“i’m getting you actual winter clothes after this, you little fucking embarrassment.” he pulls you closer, guiding you through the snowy sidewalk. “walkin’ out here like it’s fifty out and not fifteen.”
he’s lucky he’s cute. and that you’re still too cold to move your arms away from the heat of your body. still, you let him be disgruntled about your poor taste in appropriate winter attire. it’s nice that he cares so much.
besides, he’ll end up paying for the, no doubt, hideous (weather-friendly) gear. might as well listen to him complain. you’ll get it right next year.
i’m snowed in, cold, and stir crazy. my laptop is away at war (being fixed) and there’s only so much stardew and cult of the lamb i can play before i go insane. so pls have this probably terrible blurb i wrote on my (new!!!) phone. if the formatting is stupid you have my permission to stone me. ik i’m barely here, but hopefully this was okay enough that you guys don’t hate me. having a full time job and doing school is not for the weak…and i am the weak :(
