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It’s cold outside, absolutely freezing, and everywhere and everything is coated in snow and ice. Winters in Gotham are literally Hell frozen over.

Thankfully, for once, Jason doesn’t have to be anywhere except for here, in bed, nestled under the covers. With the heater on blast, it’s pleasantly warm. The only thing missing—


Jason pokes his nose out from under the blankets. He doesn’t know it, but his hair is ruffled, sticking ever which way. The white streak stands out even more.

“You look comfortable.”

He grumbles the affirmative and notes the snow Tim brushes out of his hair. By the way he wrinkles his nose, Jason guesses he hadn’t been expecting that. Probably thought he’d shaken everything off before coming in and now he has to mop it up once it’s melted.

But Jason knows that he’ll be the one to pull the mop out of their - Tim’s - cleaning closet.

That’s for later, though. For now—

Tim sheds the rest of his winter gear, and Jason ducks under the mound of blankets once more, waiting like some sleepy bear for Tim to join him.

When he’s finally down to his boxers and one of Jason’s old shirts, Tim lifts the edge of the blanket and creeps in. The shorts leave most of his pale, scarred thighs exposed and time has worn the shirt thin, but Jason’s body is like a furnace. Tim warms up quickly.

He presses his nose to the back of Jason’s neck and a low whine (he doesn’t whine, though, he growls), and a low whine, escapes the older Red Hood’s throat.

He grumbles, and Tim deciphers it as “What the fuck are you, baby bird, Frosty the fucking Snowman?”

Tim curls against his boyfriend’s back. “No, he has a carrot for a nose. I think you mean Jack Frost.”

“Blrghrgbrlg,” Jason grumbles. Whatever.

“I asked you to wait.”

“Blrghrghgrblgmehrrg.” I was cold. And you were taking too long.

“I know. But you said you’d wait.”

Tim nuzzles his forehead against Jason, bangs tickling his neck, and Jason pushes back toward him.

By now, Tim’s hands, tucked between his thighs, are warm. He sneaks them under Jason’s shirt, all the way up to his shoulder blades. Jason hums. Yes, good, perfect, I love you.

Just as Jason begins to melt against him, Tim pushes the bottoms of his feet to Jason’s bare back.

Jason howls and jumps out of bed, shoving the blankets to the floor. “What the fuck!

He really does look like a bear now, angry and scowling and messy-haired, but he’s as harmless as a cub. At least to Tim, he is.

The corner of Tim’s mouth tilts up, and he spreads across the empty space of the bed. ”That was for not waiting for me.”

“God-fucking-dammit.” Jason gathers the blankets - and his pride - off of the floor. He dumps them on top of Tim. “You’re fucking insane.”

“And you love it.” Jason doesn’t deny it as Tim turns away to get some shuteye. “Don’t forget to clean the mess by the door.”