The training room in the Wayne Manor cave was unusually quiet except for the steady rhythm of gloves hitting mats and the occasional grunt from sparring practice.

Well… it had been normal.

Until Dick made the mistake of asking Jason to count his push-ups.

“Twenty-eight… twenty-nine…” Jason deadpanned from where he sat cleaning one of his helmets. “Thirty—”

He stopped.

Tim looked up from his laptop almost immediately because Jason going silent was never a good sign.

Dick was still doing push-ups, except somewhere around rep thirty his form had completely derailed into something suspiciously unnecessary. His hips moved in slow circular motions between each push-up like he was auditioning for a dance video instead of exercising.

Jason stared in horror. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dick blinked innocently without stopping. “Push-ups?”

“That is NOT a push-up.”

“It’s advanced core engagement.”

Tim snorted into his coffee.

Damian looked physically offended. “Grayson, you move like an inflatable tube man outside a car dealership.”

Dick ignored them entirely, dropping lower before adding another exaggerated roll of his hips. “You guys just don’t understand athletic artistry.”

Jason pointed at him with absolute disgust. “No, I understand exactly what kind of nonsense you’re on right now.”

Dick grinned because that reaction was clearly the goal.

“C’mon, Jaybird, maybe you’re intimidated by my flexibility—”

Jason immediately kicked him sideways.

Dick yelped as he toppled onto the mat with all the grace of a collapsing lawn chair.

“OW! Assault!”

“Stop being weird,” Jason snapped.

Dick rolled onto his back laughing. “You noticed though.”

“I noticed because I have EYES.”

Tim shook his head slowly, already typing something into a group chat nobody asked to see. “I’m billing all of you for emotional damages.”

Damian crossed his arms. “Father leaves for one meeting and the standards collapse instantly.”

Dick sat up, still grinning shamelessly. “You’re all jealous of my superior workout methods.”

Jason threw a towel directly at his face.

“No,” Jason said flatly, “we’re traumatized.”