#sibling bonding

Danny: we should do some sibling bonding activities guys

Tim, a tired Robin: *points towards the fifth exploding building they’ve evacuated this week alone* two-face and riddler are helping

Dick, in a burnt smelling Nightwing suit: That’s not- okay, that’s not like an activity we do with the intention of bonding though

Jason, holding his helmet out hopefully: We can beat up the joker?

Danny, always ready for clown beat downs: and set his shit on fire?

Tim, who was raised by Danny and hates the guy who killed his favorite Robin: and fuck up his taxes and send the IRS after him?

Dick, who’s a protective, vindictive, and the og shit stirrer of big brother: toss him off a building or two?

Jason, holding back tears: I don’t fucking hate you losers too much, I guess.

Batman, on the comms: No-

A heartfelt talk between two brothers.

she'd been vibrating with excitement, practically leapt into the driver’s seat like it was a rollercoaster. inside, billy leaned against the passenger door, sunglasses on, arms crossed, already regretting every life decision that led up to this moment.

“okay, first lesson,” he said, deadpan. “don’t crash…if you crash us into a palm tree, i swear i will haunt your ass from the grave.”

max rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t strain something. “you’re being dramatic.”

“nah, you’ll know dramatic when the engine bursts into flames because you forgot what the brake is. now put your seatbelt on”

he was sarcastic, yes. kinda mean, sure. but he didn’t reach for the wheel much. he let her stall out three times and only snorted a little. gave her real advice too, between the sass…how to feel for the bite point, why mirrors weren’t just for checking hair, how the camaro was heavier than her, so she had to respect it or it’d bite back.

“you’re doing fine,” he muttered after she merged onto the empty street without killing them. “still think your turning radius is shit but... whatever. that’s nature’s fault.”

and max, wide-eyed and lowkey terrified, grinned like she’d won the lottery. they spent an hour just circling the streets near their place. she was awful at parking, brilliant at speeding, and billy didn’t yell once. not even when she blasted the brakes so hard he smacked his head on the dashboard.

he just said, “classic rookie move,” and smirked, rubbing his forehead.

and maybe, just maybe…he was proud.

not that he'd ever admit it.

later that night, before things shifted, before hawkins and shadowy things and nightmares of demodogs haunted her, max swore that was one of her favorite days. and billy... well, he pretended not to remember it at all. but his camaro never had a scratch, so she must’ve done something right.