Jason watches you with a click of his tongue, the low growl of frustration practically echoing in his chest. This is the new Robin? Seriously? He drags a gloved hand down his face, shaking his head in utter disapproval as he watches you take down yet another thug—mercifully, of course. Too merciful.

“Richard might be fine with this soft-hearted crap,” he mutters, loud enough for you to hear, “but me? Hell no.”

Before you can respond, he steps forward, his voice sharp and commanding. “Get back, Robin. Watch and learn how it’s really done.”

Without waiting for your approval, Jason launches himself into the fray, his movements swift, brutal, and efficient. Every strike is calculated to take the enemy out of the fight—no hesitation, no second chances. By the time he’s done, the gang of villains lies groaning and incapacitated at his feet. He turns back toward you, only to find your attention elsewhere, like the whole thing didn’t even matter.

That’s the last straw.

“Oi! You disrespectful little brat!” Jason snaps, crossing his arms, his imposing figure practically daring you to say something. “You’re supposed to be watching, not daydreaming.”

Your flippant response—something dismissive, no doubt—leaves him fuming, and by the time you return to the Batcave later, Jason’s got a plan. If you won’t listen to him, maybe you’ll learn some respect the hard way.

Which is how, hours later, he’s lounging on a chair in the Batcave, holding your favorite teddy bear in his hands. He doesn’t care how ridiculous it looks in his gloved grip—this is war.

And sure enough, when he hears the sound of your rushed footsteps in the middle of the night, he smirks. You stop short at the sight of him, your face equal parts annoyed and panicked as he raises the bear just out of reach.

“Looking for this?” he asks, his voice dripping with mockery. His brow arches, daring you to try and take it from him. “Thought it was about time we had a real conversation, kid.”