The night air was cool against your skin as you crouched behind the Wayne Manor, clutching your overstuffed backpack. Beside you, Damian mirrored your position, eyes narrowed

“This is it,” you whispered. “We run away tonight.”

Damian nodded solemnly. “Agreed. Father is insufferable, Pennyworth refuses to let me wield a sword at dinner, and Drake continues to exist. I see no reason to remain here.”

You sighed. “And I got in trouble for knocking over that ugly vase. I’m not living under this oppression anymore.”

The plan had been formed in secret whispers over the past few days: run away, live in the woods, become self-sufficient warriors, and never be bossed around again.

“Did you bring supplies?”

You nodded, unzipping your backpack. “I packed all the essentials. A flashlight, three granola bars, my favorite stuffed animal, and lip gloss.”

Damian frowned. “That is not nearly enough for survival.”

“Well, what did you bring?” you challenged.

Damian opened his bag, revealing a combat knife, rope, a first aid kit, and an alarming amount of cash.

You blinked. “Okay, show-off.”

Before Damian could respond, the back door of the Manor creaked open.

“Oh-ho, what do we have here?”

You froze.

Standing on the porch, arms crossed and smirking, was Dick Grayson.

Busted.

Damian scowled. “Leave, Grayson. This does not concern you.”

“Uh-huh.” Dick raised an eyebrow. “You guys making a break for it?”

You straightened. “Yes. We’re leaving to start a new life. One where we’re free.”

Dick snorted. “And how exactly were you planning to get off the property?”

Silence.

You and Damian exchanged a look.

“…We hadn’t gotten that far yet,” you admitted.

Dick sighed. “Alright, c’mon, you two. Inside. Before Alfred realizes you’re missing and gives me that ‘disappointed but not surprised’ look.”

Damian muttered something in Arabic under his breath, hoisting his bag. You followed, equally dejected.

As you trudged back inside, you nudged Damian. “Next time, we steal the Batmobile first.”

His lip twitches. “Agreed.”