Work Text:
Bruce didn’t jump when his personal phone rang—he was Batman—but it did make his heart skip a beat. Not that any super (Clark) was around to mention it.
His personal phone ringing was never a good thing. This was a number Bruce only gave to family and close friends. It could just be Dick calling to ask for the Netflix password, or it could be something serious.
Bruce picked up the phone before it had the chance to ring a third time. His heart hammered in his chest when he read the caller ID.
“Jason.”
Jason never called. Jason would rather die than call Bruce.
This was serious.
Bruce answered, expecting to hear something he never wanted to hear again—Jason nearly dying. Instead, he was met with a rather interesting sight.
Jason, fully suited up in his Red Hood gear, was being held by the scruff of his jacket by… Deathstroke?
What on earth was going on?
“Your little firecracker here is an awful driver! I thought you taught your flock everything. Clearly, you missed out on driving lessons,” Slade snarked, holding Jason like a dog being scolded by its owner.
“I almost died because your dumbass didn’t teach him how to drive stick. He was the getaway driver!”
Slade didn’t seem remotely concerned that he’d just admitted Jason was helping him commit a crime. Whatever crime it was, Bruce decided he didn’t want to know.
“It was an upcoming lesson…” Bruce murmured, oddly embarrassed at being berated.
“Prepared for excellence, my ass!” Deathstroke spat sarcastically.
“I technically never got my driver’s license either, though,” Jason added, as if that wasn’t a massive issue.
“What the fuck, Batman? Teach this kid how to drive. Matter of fact, I’ll teach him how to drive!”
Slade hung up, leaving Bruce sitting there in stunned embarrassment and already planning a mandatory driving lesson for Damian, despite the fact he was only fourteen.
“Brake! Brake!” Slade screeched as Jason nearly sent the car through a brick wall.
“I am braking!” Jason yelled back.
Slade had taken it upon himself to teach Jason how to drive, claiming, “Since the Bat didn’t, I suppose I’ll have to.”
“You’re going too fast! Slow down!”
“I’m not even going fifty!” Jason shouted back, turning his head away from the road to yell at Slade.
Deathstroke suddenly reached over and grabbed the wheel, yanking it toward himself to stop Jason from driving them straight into a ditch.
“Eyes forward!” Slade hissed.
Jason jerked the car forward again, turning up the music. Shut Up and Drive by Rihanna blasted through the speakers. He hummed along happily, immediately going back to not paying attention to the road.
The windows were rolled down as he sped down the asphalt, swerving past a group of horrified cyclists. Deathstroke glared at him, thoroughly unimpressed before crossing things out on the clipboard he insisted on bringing.
Jason kept humming Rihanna, completely unconcerned about the fact his attention should probably be on the road. He slammed on the brakes when they reached a pedestrian crossing, laying on the horn as an old woman slowly hobbled across.
She made it about a quarter of the way before dropping her groceries.
Jason groaned loudly as she bent down at an agonising pace to pick everything back up, raising her cane and grumbling every time he beeped the horn again.
Eventually, Deathstroke climbed out of the passenger seat and shoved the groceries back into her bag, practically escorting her out of the road.
Despite him being fully geared up as Deathstroke, the old woman showed absolutely no fear. Instead, she smacked him over the head repeatedly with her cane.
Jason was loving every second of it.
Slade climbed back into the car, and Jason immediately tore off down the road again. He took them speeding down a back road and over a bridge, hitting a speed bump far too fast.
The car launched violently sideways over the edge of the bridge.
The two of them ended up upside down in a ditch, Slade gave him an unimpressed look on his face and writing the word fail on the clipboard.