The second you get home from school, you drop your bag, cross your arms, and fix Jace with a deadpan stare. “So. You’ve been telling my school you're my brother.”

Jace doesn’t even flinch. He barely looks up from his tablet, probably scanning police reports or doing whatever it is the Dark Knight of New York does when he's avoiding accountability. “Yeah. What about it?”

You blink. “What about it?” you gesture wildly at him. “You are a grown man. You're practically thirty.”

“Twenty-six,” he corrects, setting the tablet down. “And your point?”

“My point is nobody’s buying it!” you groan, dragging a hand down your face. “I had a teacher pull me aside today and say it was 'really sweet' that my ‘big brother’ stepped up to take care of me.”

Jace leans back against the counter, smirking. “And?”

“And I wanted to die!” you exclaim. “I told them you're my legal guardian, but nooooo, apparently, you insisted on the ‘big brother’ thing.”

Jace shrugs, totally unapologetic. “Would you prefer 'legal guardian'?”

You hesitate. “…Actually, yeah?”

“Too bad.” he smirks. “'Big brother' makes me sound younger.”

You gape at him. “That’s your reasoning?”

“Yep.”

You groan again. “You're the worst.”

“Cool,” Jace replies. “Make sure you finish your homework before patrol. Love, your big bro.”