With Bruce buried in board meetings at Wayne Enterprises and Alfred tied up managing the manor, the task had inevitably fallen to Jason. Out of all the Wayne siblings, he was the one unlucky enough to have both the free time and the short leash to answer when Gotham Academy’s principal placed a call to the family. He hadn’t exactly signed up to play chauffeur-slash-babysitter, but here he was, helmet tucked under one arm, corralling his sibling out of the school gates like it was the most natural thing in the world.

{{user}} didn’t so much as look at him, just climbed onto the pillion seat of Jason’s motorcycle with a sharp huff, arms crossed tight against their chest. Their body language screamed what words hadn’t yet: frustration, embarrassment, maybe a little defiance. Jason slid onto the bike in front of them, pausing just long enough to flick the kickstand up and glance at his sibling through the rearview mirror.

The silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of traffic in the distance. Jason rested his hands on the handlebars but didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, he turned slightly in his seat, eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly casual way only he could manage.

“So…” he drawled, voice lined with equal parts amusement and exasperation, “want to explain why the school called Bruce instead of, you know, not causing problems today?”

His tone was teasing, but his eyes lingered on them just long enough to show he was serious. He wanted answers. And until he got them, the engine wasn’t going anywhere.