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Damian stood in the corner of Wayne Manor's living room, fidgeting with his gaudy Christmas sweater. The room was a phantasmagoria of tinsel and twinkling lights, assaulting his senses with holiday cheer.
"Ridiculous," he muttered under his breath, scowling at a particularly obnoxious Santa figurine. The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon and pine, making his nose twitch.
His gaze swept across the room, landing on a familiar face. Rose Wilson leaned against the far wall, looking as thrilled as he felt. Her arms were crossed, seeming to contemplate the quickest escape route.
Damian started to make his way towards her, but his path was blocked by Tim, who appeared out of nowhere with a Santa hat perched precariously on his head.
"Hey, little D!" Tim grinned, hand raised for a high-five. "Merry Christmas!"
"Watch it, Drake," Damian grumbled, sidestepping his brother's outstretched hand.
He continued his journey across the room, narrowly avoiding Stephanie, who was wielding a sprig of mistletoe like a weapon. "Not today, Brown."
Finally, he sidled up next to Rose, grateful for a kindred spirit in this sea of forced merriment.
"Having fun?" he asked dryly, leaning against the wall next to her.
Rose snorted, a sound that was equal parts amusement and disdain. "Oh yeah, I'm just brimming with holiday spirit. Can't you tell?"
They shared a smirk, the chatter around them fading into white noise as they swapped cynical observations.
"I swear, if I hear 'Jingle Bells' one more time, I'm going to stuff those bells somewhere unpleasant," Rose muttered, eyeing the speakers with distaste.
Damian nodded in agreement. "I could disable them, you know. It would take less than a minute."
Rose raised an eyebrow. "Tempting, but I think your dad might notice."
"He's distracted," Damian said, nodding towards Bruce, who was trapped in conversation with a group of Gotham socialites. "We could blame it on faulty wiring."
Suddenly, the floor creaked ominously behind them. Damian tensed, recognizing the heavy footfalls. He turned, coming face-to-chest with Jason Todd.
"Well, well," he drawled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What do we have here? Two little grinches hiding in the corner?"
Damian's hand twitched, muscle memory reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. "What do you want, Todd?"
Jason's gaze flicked upward, and a slow grin spread across his face.
Damian and Rose followed his line of sight. There, hanging innocently above them, was a sprig of mistletoe.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Damian groaned, his face heating up. "Who put that there?"
"Probably Steph," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "She's been on a mistletoe rampage all night."
Damian stepped aside, gesturing for Jason and Rose to get on with it. "Well, go ahead. Get it over with."
But Jason had other ideas. In a move that caught Damian completely off guard, his older brother leaned down and planted a quick kiss on his cheek.
"Why... you... what?" he stuttered, his usual eloquence deserting him.
"Well, since we're doing this..."
Damian had barely registered Rose's laughter before she too leaned in and kissed his other cheek. Her lips cool against his burning skin as he felt his brain short-circuit.
Jason chuckled, slinging an arm around Rose as he turned to leave. "Merry Christmas, demon brat. Consider it payback for all the times you've been a pain in my ass."
Damian opened his mouth to say something scathing, but all that came out was a strangled complaint about "Inadequate holiday tradition."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and fled the room. He pushed past a group of giggling socialites, nearly knocking over Alfred who was carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres.
He burst into his room, slamming the door behind him. Titus lifted his head from his bed, tail wagging at the sight of his master.
Damian slumped against the door, sliding down to sit on the floor. Titus padded over, resting his big head on Damian's lap.
"At least you're not trying to kiss me," Damian muttered, scratching behind Titus' ears. "Next year, we're spending Christmas in the Batcave. Just you and me, boy. No mistletoe allowed."
Titus whined softly, as if agreeing. They sat there for a while, the muffled sounds of the party drifting up from downstairs. Just as he was considering sneaking out onto the roof for some peace and quiet, there was a soft knock at the door.
Damian groaned, knowing exactly who was on the other side of the door. "Go away, Grayson."
"Come on, Little D. Open up," Dick's voice was muffled but unmistakably cheery.
Reluctantly, Damian got to his feet and cracked the door open. "What do you want?"
Dick's grinning face appeared in the gap. "Heard you got ambushed under the mistletoe. Thought I'd come check on you."
"I'm fine," Damian grumbled, but he stepped back, allowing Dick to enter.
His older brother sauntered in, hands behind his back. "You sure? You look a little flushed."
"It's just hot downstairs," Damian lied, avoiding eye contact.
Dick chuckled. "Right. Well, I brought you something."
Damian eyed him suspiciously. "If it's more mistletoe, I swear I'll—"
"Relax," Dick said, revealing a plate of Alfred's famous Christmas cookies. "Thought you might want a peace offering."
Damian's stomach grumbled traitorously. He snatched a cookie, mumbling a grudging "Thanks."
As he bit into it, Dick suddenly leaned in and planted a quick kiss on top of his head.
"Grayson!" Damian spluttered, nearly choking on his cookie.
Dick laughed, dancing out of reach. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Merry Christmas, baby wing!"
He darted out of the room, leaving Damian standing there, cookie crumbs on his sweater and a bewildered expression on his face.
"Unbelievable," he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he helped himself to another cookie.