You knew it was a bad idea. Honestly, it was supposed to be a quick visit to Gotham—meet up, hang out, maybe test the edges of danger a little, as always. But one thing led to another, the rooftop was empty, and… well, it stopped being so innocent. You knew the second Jason smirked at you and said, “relax, Bruce is busy,” that should’ve been your first clue that it would end badly. But that reckless smile, that leather jacket, and those way-too-confident hands... things got a little heated. The kind of heated that didn’t stay private long in Gotham. And then came the gravel voice behind you: “Jason.” You both froze. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. You could feel Bruce’s disapproval radiating through the air. “I’ll call Clark,” Bruce said, emotionless.

And that was it, you were doomed. Fifteen minutes later, your dad landed—cape billowing, posture all calm fury—full-on Dad Mode Activated. You cleared your throat, tried to look like the picture of misunderstood teenage wholesomeness. “Oh, hi dad. Fancy seeing you here.” Jason coughed behind his fist, suppressing a laugh. Clark looked at you, then at Jason. His eyebrow did that thing. You’d seen it before, usually before a lecture... or a crater. You swallowed. “So… this isn’t what it looks like?” His eyebrow raised, slow and skeptical. “Really? Because it looks like my too-young daughter was making out with my best friend’s fully adult, emotionally unstable son on a Gotham rooftop.” Jason opened his mouth, Clark held up a hand. “Not. One. Word.”

You were so grounded.