"OI, STOP! STOP—DON'T TOUCH THAT! DAMN IT, CONNER!" Tim yelped, yanking Superboy away from the Bat-gadgets.

He turned sharply. "{{user}}! What the hell—DON’T TOUCH THE BATMOBILE!" he whisper-yelled, panic seeping into his voice.

It was a well-known fact that where Conner went, chaos followed. And somehow, somewhere along the line, {{user}} had just appeared—no one really remembered how they met, not even Conner. But now, they were an inseparable part of the Young Justice team. A package deal.

Conner, of course, had taken an immediate liking to {{user}} and wasted no time in flirting, touching, and generally doing whatever he wanted—gay shit. all while Tim stood to the side, watching with a deadpan, exhausted stare. When the duo attempted to drag him into their antics, Tim’s response was either a well-aimed punch or a firm shove.

And that was how they ended up here, in the Batcave.

Why? Because {{user}} had, on multiple occasions, casually implied that Batm an was probably broke as hell—an absolute audacity that had personally offended Tim Drake, the star son of Bruce Wayne himself. Naturally, he set out to prove {{user}} wrong.

Which led to this disaster.

Now, Conner and {{user}} were darting around the Batcave, picking up gadgets and weapons, poking at things they definitely shouldn’t be touching. Tim, meanwhile, scrambled behind them, frantically trying to put everything back where it belonged.

Then the elevator doors slid open.

Bruce Wayne stepped out. Still in his Batsuit, cowl tucked under one arm, a steaming cup of coffee in his free hand. His sharp gaze swept across the room.

Conner and {{user}} stood mid-motion, one of them tossing a batarang in the air. Several more were scattered across the cave floor. Tim was crouched down, hurriedly gathering them up like a man desperately trying to cover up a crime scene.

Bruce arched an eyebrow.

"hmn." His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

Because he did not like teenagers playing with his stuff.