Happy Christmas or other assorted holidays!
(or, if you celebrate nothing, have a great day just because!)
O Christmas Tree O Christmas Tree, how deadly are your branches (fun fact: I only know this song in German...)
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure sorta universe optional
Summary: Jolyne has her dad help with the Christmas tree.
Word Count: 475
Notes: Originally this was written for the universe where Jolyne is Buffy, but I realized I didn't actually use her name or do anything super
clearly tied to it. The 'on the ground too' is a reference to Joyce. If so, not sure where Dawn is--maybe she's asleep? Or Xander's taking her last minute shopping, or something? Does not take place on Christmas. The party isn't written; maybe a holiday fic for next year? I like the flow, all the dialogue (much snark), etc. Also based on real-life events. First year with an artificial tree and it turns out I'm allergic.
“Come on, Dad! Come on! We have to get the tree ready!” It’s been ages since she wandered in and poked her Dad like this. She was a kid herself, but she’s feeling younger than she has in a while.
Jotaro grumbles into his pillow, but she keeps poking, unworried.
“Isn’t it too early?” He’s finally audible.
“Nope!” she responds cheerfully. “It’s 10:30. You’re not a high schooler, which is clearly the only excuse. You’re just lucky I waited this long, neglecting my daughterly duties to bother you way too early in the morning. Up, up, tree, tree!”
He growls and grabs his hat off the nightstand by his bed, but he sits up. “Fine.”
He looks like he’s on autopilot as he helps her get the tree down from the attic and holds pieces to help her set it up. She can’t resist. “By the way, everyone’s supposed to come for a Christmas Eve party. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He yawns. “How’s this supposed to go?”
She blinks. “Haven’t you ever used an artificial tree before?”
“The old man insisted on a real tree every year, so no. When he was there, it was a big production, but it’s not quite the same in Japan.”
She gasps in shock. “Heathen!”
Green eyes blink in her direction. “I don’t understand you sometimes.”
“That’s okay,” she responds, hugging him, and he responds as much as he can.
They finish setting it up, and they sit down to get a little coffee. He doesn’t stir much, but does hold out a hand when she offers freshly made coffee and toast. And she gasps.
There’s red, bumpy, raised skin on his arm, little circles and lines. “Are you okay?” Even as she asks, she remembers seeing someone in the store, telling anyone that will listen about her ‘allergies’. And that’s honestly what it looks like. “Are you allergic? Are you breathing?”
“Clearly, I’m not breathing. I’m dead.” The sarcasm’s annoying, but his voice sounds normal enough for a sleep-deprived Jotaro.
She punches his shoulder, and he grimaces but doesn’t move. “Sorry.”
“Like you knew.” He sighs. “I guess I won’t help decorate.”
“Are you sure it’s fine having it around?” That’s the last thing she wants, her dad on the ground, too. She shakes the idea out of her head.
“It feels like it left some sort of residue, or something. Touch is probably the problem. Unless it’s a Stand, in which case, feel free to punch it through the nearest wall.”
She can’t help the laugh, but glares at him for not taking this seriously enough. He shrugs in response. She’s going to keep an eye on him, but she can relax a little. “Well, I should’ve known that only a Grinch would be allergic to Christmas.”
"Cute," he snarls, but fluffs her hair anyway.