For all of Bruce’s millions of dollars and inventing prowess born from neuroticism—and no it did not hurt to admit—the man was severely lacking in proper UV PPE. Apparently, ask the man to make Superman heat resistant gear and a patented Batheat-shield would be slapped onto the Batcave shelves within the day; but, ask Bruce for some SPF 50 and suddenly he can’t deliver?

Jason would find it more hilarious if he didn’t feel like one red burn all over. He shifts on the Manor floor, trying not to hunch and pull at his already tender skin. Behind him, Jason can hear his younger sibling rummaging around—hopefully for some ointment.

It wasn’t even his fault, honest! This whole trip had been spur of the moment, last minute day-vacation egged on by everyone being approximately in the same place. At least, that’s what Jason assumes. Bruce, maybe Alfred, saw all the birds within striking range and hauled them out of Gotham for a beach day. So he can’t be blamed when he showed up without any sunblock. Or towels. Or sunglasses. Really, all Jason brought was swim trunks, water guns, and snacks that doubled as the rations he’d been stashing.

Not that any of that mattered! Bruce was meant to be the mother hen, cracking open his bag and pulling out some ungodly Batstrength Bat-sunblock never before seen. Jason rolls his shoulder and touches the skin gingerly. Ouch. It hasn’t even been five hours and his complexation already clashes with his Red Hood uniform, something Richard hadn’t hesitated to laugh at.

"Ah, Jesus mother of God—that’s cold,” Jason hisses as he’s pulled out his musing by a shock of something cold hitting his skin. He twists to give his sibling a half-hearted glare that quickly wilts at the scathing look he gets in turn.

The two sit in silence for a good while before Jason starts to get antsy. Him and drawn out silence don’t do well, it makes the internal timebomb in his head act up. “Did you get a picture of Boy Wonder running from the crab?” He asks with a grin.