a/n: Hello everyone. If you stumbled upon that fic, first of all: I am sorry. Second of all, I haven’t written anything other than essays in like 4 years, and this is my way to try to write fanfics again. I may be rusty, like a lot, and I apologize for that. Also, English is not my first language so again, I am sorry for any typo or weird sentences, I try my best skskjsj. Finally, did is my first Jason Todd fic ever (or DC fic, for that matter) so dont expect too much ig? Anyway, I just miss writing fanfictions so I’m gonna try to post some from time to time, even if they suck. That’s okay<3
Pairing: Jason Todd x y/n (she/her pronouns used, sorry about that)
Warning: some drinking, too many paragraphs, slight cringe ig, uhm maybe some ooc Jason idk I’m not so sure about how I want to write him yet!
The title is from the cover Sleeping At Last did for their Christmas album, I was listening to it while writing.
You took the baking tray out of the oven, careful to not burn yourself as the dish towel between your hand and the tray was barely thick enough to protect you from the heat.
You hummed absent-mindedly, organizing the cooling cookies on the dish you decorated specially for the event. You bit the inside of your cheek as you felt a pair of eyes on you, waiting for you to give a clue – anything, really– away. You took the final baking tray from your fridge and put it in the oven, closing it and putting the timer on twenty minutes.
You let out a tired sigh as you turned around, going to a cupboard to grab a pack of chips and a bowl to pour them in. You carefully ignored the other person in the kitchen who was supposedly here to help you, but was rather doing an investigation of a new genre. Poking at your mind tirelessly was apparently more interesting than putting together a Christmas Eve’s eve party for your friends.
"Won’t you give up and help me with those?” You pointed at the appetizers that were already ready, then pointed at the empty table in the living room.
As to prove her previous point that she can do two and more things at the same time, I swear, Barbara grabbed two plates and moved over to said table. She mumbled a couple of indistinct sentences, but since she was finally helping, you let it slide and simply rolled your eyes at her antics.
“I just know”, she grabbed a plate of stick crudités with their condiments. “I just know”, she started again, “you’re plotting something and I don’t like it."
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