tie it pretty with a bow
pairing: jason todd x afab!reader
summary: you work at Gotham’s biggest department store as a professional gift wrapper. you’re familiar with the holiday rush, but this season grants you something different: a sweet but awkward man that keeps buying gifts for you to wrap instead of asking you out
wc: 2.3k
content: awkward flirting, roy and dick schenangians, confessions,
buy me a coffee | winter romance series | masterlist
“And your favorite customer has just turned the corner. You’re up, cutie.”
Andy’s whisper is stage-loud, entirely on purpose. You don’t bother looking up as they disappear toward the storage room, already grinning to yourself as you straighten the roll of paper on your station.
Perfect timing.
Your new favorite part of the job approaches, hands full once again—another box tucked carefully against his chest like it might bolt if he loosens his grip. He hesitates at the edge of your counter before stepping forward, boots scuffing softly against the tile.
You think back to the first week of December, when he came into the store holding three gifts in his hands while waiting in line, oddly calm for someone juggling such an awkward assortment. One box had been long and narrow, another suspiciously soft, the third unmistakably heavy. He’d shifted his weight from foot to foot, eyes forward, like this was a mission he’d already committed to seeing through.
When it was finally his turn, he stepped up to your station, and you launched into your practiced greeting, voice bright and automatic.
“Hi! I can take the next—”
“Hey,” he’d replied, gruff but polite, like he wasn’t used to being on this side of customer service interactions. “Uh. Yeah. Hi.”
You’d asked your usual questions: receipt inside, preferred paper, ribbon or bow, and he’d answered all of them calm and steady.
And that alone should’ve made him forgettable. You’d seen every level of attractive Gotham had to offer by this point in the season; faces blurred together after a while.
Still, there was something about him.
Tall, broad, carrying himself like he knew exactly where he stood in the world—except for the way his eyes flicked away every time you accidentally met them. Like he wasn’t sure whether holding eye contact would be rude… or dangerous.
By the time you reached for the second gift, your fingers paused.
“Oh,” you breathed, unable to stop the excitement that slipped out. “The limited edition book series?”
You looked up at him automatically, eyes bright, instinctively sharing the joy.
“That’s gonna be such a good gift. Someone’s gonna be super happy.”
For a second, he looked almost startled—like he hadn’t expected you to care. Then his mouth tipped into something shy, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck.
“Actually,” he said, clearing his throat, “it’s… uh. It’s for me.”
Your eyebrows lifted.
“I came shopping for my teammates,” he continued quickly, nodding toward the other wrapped box, “but when I saw the collection bundled like that, I figured…”
He shrugged, just a little. “Didn’t feel right leaving it behind.”
You laughed softly as you started wrapping the books, smoothing the paper with care. “Ah, classic Christmas shopping dilemma. That’s what happens when you have taste.”
He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Is it?”
“Absolutely,” you said without hesitation. “Everyone deserves a treat now and then, so I don’t see the harm in indulging now and then.”
He watched your hands for a moment before looking back up at you, something thoughtful settling into his expression.
“How do you know that applies to me?” he asked, eyebrow lifting—not defensive, just genuinely curious.
You didn’t miss a beat.
“People who question whether they deserve good things,” you said gently, meeting his eyes this time, “are exactly the ones who deserve extra goodness.”
His breath caught—just barely. Enough that you noticed.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The store noise faded into the background, the only sound the soft crinkle of paper as you finished the wrap.
You handed the gift back to him, perfectly neat, ribbon crisp.
He took it carefully, fingers brushing against yours, sending a spark up your arm.
“Thanks,” he said, quieter than before/
You smiled, already turning back to your station, thinking honestly that would be the last time you ever saw him.
You were wrong.
To your surprise, you see him again just a couple of days later.
This time, he isn’t alone.
A redheaded man walks beside him, loud in the way that draws attention without meaning to. He carries two brightly colored toy boxes, ones you recognize as being popular this holiday season, as you’ve wrapped up 30 of them so far. Jason’s hands are another carefully chosen item, an expensive one at that, this one unmistakably meant for a little girl.
Your stomach drops before you can stop it.
Oh. There’s a kid involved.
You force yourself to keep your hands steady as you wrap the gift in front of you, eyes flicking up only when you think you can get away with it. Jason looks the same—broad shoulders, dark jacket, guarded ease—but the sight of the toys hits you somewhere unexpectedly tender and sharp.
Partner, your brain supplies unhelpfully.
You immediately scold yourself. None of your business. You barely know him. Still, that warmth you’d been carrying since your last interaction dims just a little.
You overhear their conversation as they move through the line, their voices carrying easily.
“These are age-appropriate, right?” Jason asks, turning a box over in his hands.
“Relax,” the redhead says. “She’s gonna love anything that makes noise or lights up. Or both. Preferably both.”
You adjust the ribbon at your station, subtly shifting your pace with the line, hoping against reason that if timing works out, Jason will end up back at your counter.
It works, partly because luck is on your side.
Mostly because Jason keeps letting people go ahead of him, feigning casual interest in a display near the exit like it suddenly holds the secrets of the universe.
Roy clocks it immediately.
He raises an eyebrow, watching Jason pause again, scanning the gift wrap stations like he’s looking for something specific.
“You’ve been weirdly invested in the checkout area,” Roy says dryly.
Jason shrugs, hands in his jacket pockets. “Marketing strategy, you know that’s how these stores work. Blame them for their effectiveness.”
Roy snorts. “Sure, man.”
Jason doesn’t explain why he was so eager to help pick out gifts for Lian. Doesn’t admit that he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since the day you’d looked at him like his choice mattered. That you’d said something about deserving good things and meant it.
Before he realizes it, they’re getting called up to your station.
You paste on a bright smile, professional and warm, and it’s enough to make Jason mirror it instantly.
Roy, on the other hand, does a full double-take. He looks at you, then at Jason, then back at you.
His face says oh. Ohhh.
“You find everything okay?” you ask, tone that deft blend of friendly and efficient reserved for holiday crowds. You reached for the first box, hands moving with the swift, practiced elegance of someone who’d spent several hours wrapping strangers’ love into perfect parcels.
“Oh yeah,” Roy says immediately, stepping in before Jason can get a word out. “We definitely did. Made out like bandits, actually.”
Jason shoots him a look. “Roy—”
“I needed help picking out the perfect Christmas gift for my little girl,” Roy continues smoothly, completely unfazed, “and figured her favorite—” He pauses deliberately, as if waiting to make sure you’re paying attention.
You glance up, curiosity piqued, just in time to catch the way Roy flicks his eyes between you and Jason with a knowing glint. You bite your lower lip, smiling despite yourself.
“— single uncle,” Roy finishes cheerfully.
Jason exhales hard, mortified.
“Oh,” you say, laughing softly as you start wrapping. “That’s sweet of you.”
Roy grins, satisfied. “Right? He’s great with kids. Responsible. Thoughtful. Surprisingly good taste in gifts, and according to my daughter, can make an incredible pb&j.”
Jason mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like I hate you.
“Don’t use Lian as an excuse. You literally asked me to make you one for the ride over here.”
A laugh bubbles out from you as the bantering continues back and forth. The conversation flows so naturally that it almost feels like you’ve all known each other longer than a few minutes.
Roy observes the two of you: how Jason’s shoulders relax, how his eyes never quite leave you, how you lean in just a little when he talks.
Yeah. That explains everything.
“Well,” Roy says eventually, clapping his hands together, “I’m gonna go check out. You two seem… covered.”
Jason glares. “You don’t have to—”
“Oh, I really do,” Roy says, already backing away. He gives you an exaggerated wink. “Nice meeting you.”
You laugh, waving him off, and when you turn back—
Jason’s already looking at you, something softer settling into his expression.
“Sorry about him,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
You smile. “Don’t be. He’s… enthusiastic.”
Jason huffs a quiet laugh. “That’s one word for it.”
As you hand him the finished gift, your fingers brush. Just barely.
And this time, neither of you pulls away right away.
A few days later, you see Jason again.
This time, he’s not alone, and the man with him is unmistakable.
Dark hair, easy confidence, an arm slung around Jason’s shoulders as it belongs there. He laughs at something Jason mutters, the sound bright and warm, completely at odds with Jason’s usual gruffness. The contrast alone is enough to make you look twice.
Oh.
That’s Dick Grayson.
You’ve seen his face often enough, on magazine covers, charity billboards, and Gotham social pages, to recognize him instantly. He carries himself like someone who knows he’s being looked at and doesn’t mind in the slightest.
Jason stiffens the moment Dick’s arm tightens, clearly realizing where they’re headed.
“Hey,” Jason says when they reach your station, voice doing that thing it always does—softening just for you.
“Hi,” you reply, smiling easily.
Dick’s eyes flick between the two of you, sharp and curious. He recognizes it immediately: the way Jason stands a little straighter, the way you tilt your head toward him, the unspoken familiarity that shouldn’t exist yet but somehow does.
“Oh,” Dick says, delighted. “You’re the one.”
Jason groans. “Don’t start.”
Dick ignores him completely.
Again, it follows the same pattern. Dick listens more than he talks at first, watching the banter unfold, fascinated by the fact that Jason Todd, Little Wing himself of all people, is smiling like this. Laughing and willingly engaging with someone, alive in a way Dick hasn’t seen in a while.
Roy’s words echo in his head.
He’s gone, man. Completely gone.
Dick decides to push. After all, he’s an older brother, and he knows his family all too well to know that Jason will sit on these feelings and pine away instead of taking action unless provoked. It’s how he used to get him to clean up after him back at the Manor when they were younger.
He turns back to you with a grin that could stop traffic. Then, just to be obnoxious, leans into your space slightly, tilting his head so his hair falls perfectly to one side, like he’s stepped out of a slow-motion commercial.
Jason’s eyes narrow instantly.
Dick winks at you and doesn’t miss the way Jason stiffens at the action. In fact, Dick leans into it.
“Well,” Dick continues, voice smooth as silk, eyes never leaving yours, “if I were a betting man—and I am—I’d say someone lucky is going to figure out pretty quickly how easy it is to fall for you.”
Jason opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again.
“Dick.”
Dick ignores him, resting one elbow casually on the counter, lowering his voice just enough to feel intentional. “You’ve got that kind of presence. The kind that makes a room feel warmer just by standing in it.”
Jason steps forward, finally, and unmistakably, placing himself between the two of you.
“Alright,” he says firmly. “That’s enough.”
Dick lifts his hands in surrender, but he’s grinning like he’s won something. “Relax. I was just appreciating art.”
Jason shoots him a look. “Go. Pick something out for Damian.”
Dick gasps theatrically. “Wow. Kicking me out in front of a beautiful stranger?”
Jason simply tsks, before nodding his head further towards the mall, a clear dismissal.
Dick laughs and backs away, still facing you. “It was so nice meeting you,” he says, sincere beneath the teasing. “If he doesn’t figure this out soon, feel free to upgrade.”
Jason groans. “Dick.”
As Dick turns, he leans in close to Jason, voice low enough that only the two of them can hear.
“Sorry, Little Wing, I’m just trying to help,” he murmurs. “You just have to actually do something.”
Then he’s gone, swallowed by the holiday crowd.
The space he leaves behind feels… different. Quieter. Heavier.
Jason clears his throat, clearly aware of how close he’s standing now. Your hand reaches out automatically for the next box, and when you lift it, your breath catches seeing an expensive display screen. This family doesn’t cheap out for the holidays, that’s for certain.
You wrap carefully, taking your time. The paper crinkles softly in the space between you, each fold deliberate, each second stretching.
When you finish, you hesitate. Normally, this is where the interaction ends. Polite goodbye, and he’s chalked away as another almost.
But this time, you don’t reach for the next customer. Instead, you look at him, your eyes determined.
“Jason,” you say gently.
He meets your gaze immediately, his attention on you to clearly show you how serious he’s taking this.
“You don’t have to keep finding reasons to come see me,” you add, voice warm, encouraging. “I already look forward to it.”
Something shifts in his expression; softens, sharpens, then settles. He studies you like he’s committing you to memory: the curve of your smile, the light in your eyes, the way you say his name like it belongs to you.
He nods once. Slow, but certain.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
And with that promise hanging between you, he takes the gift and steps away.
Cue to now, Jason is approaching you for the first time since your last conversation. As the Christmas season is dying down, you’ve been working more hours to make the best of it, also, in hopes of seeing Jason one last time before you move on to another job. And if he wasn’t willing to take the leap, well, you surely can.
Andy all but sprints to the back the moment they see him. Jason approaches your station, not with a box this time, but with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
“I appreciate how highly you think of me,” you say, eyes widening, heart racing. “I’m good at my job, but I’m not that good. I have no clue how to wrap that.”
Jason lets out a small huff of laughter. “Not to wrap. I was hoping you’d take ‘em, and look at them while thinking of me. Hopefully, similar to the way I’m constantly thinking of you.”
He swallows, then continues, words tumbling faster now.
“I’m also probably pushing my luck, but I was hoping you’d be willing to go on a date with me.”
“Furthermore,” he adds quickly, wincing at his vocabulary, but determined to continue, “I know poinsettias are traditional Christmas flowers, but I wasn’t sure if you have pets, and they’re poisonous, and it felt messed up to give you something that could hurt your forever friends, so—”
You lean forward, cutting him off mid-ramble, close enough that his breath stutters.
“You’re thoughtful,” you say softly. “And sweet. And you’ve been making my shifts better all month.”
Then, with a grin: “And you finally did something.”
You kiss him over the counter.
Cheers erupt around you. Coworkers, shoppers, strangers who will absolutely be telling this story Christmas morning.
Jason laughs into the kiss, stunned and smiling, and for the first time all season—
There’s nothing left unsaid.
a/n: another part done! i actually have the last story written (i saw mommy kissing who?) and it will be posted on christmas eve.
as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. thank you for your love and support, here's two kisses for each of you. 💋💋
