i think the batmobile is a five seater car, which on PAPER is completely fine. Bruce + Dick + Jason + Damian + Tim = a car that is filled to its expectancy. the issue comes with taking it off paper and into reality, where having them all squashed into the car + bulky gear and capes and helmets and SOME members of the family that are entirely too muscled for normal life (cough cough mr ‘i am justice’ and his estranged son sir ‘steroid me with green juice motherfuckers’), it starts to become ridiculous.
it gets to the point where driving anywhere as a full bat-brigade is a nightmare for all involved. first theres the consistently horrific and violent argument about who gets the front passenger seat, usually won by Dick because ‘i’m the eldest’ or Jason because ‘i have a gun, try and take it from me’. then theres the actual drive, filled with irritated back and forth from the three squashed together in the back, (‘stop shoving into me’ ‘there is literally no space, shut the fuck up’/ ‘stop- BRUCE HE’S LOOKING OUT MY WINDOW AGAIN’ ‘ITS A FUCKING WINDOW’/ ‘can you turn down your music you’re literally right next to me i can hear it through the headphones’ ‘the engine is too loud i cant hear when i turn it down-!’) Damian constantly being told as the littlest that he has to sit in the middle and making it EVERYBODY ELSES problem, whoever is in the front taking advantage of the radio to put on music that pisses everybody else off, Bruce getting a migraine before they even get to wherever they’re trying to go, and that one time Dick got the front seat and was so insufferably smug about it that Jason leant forward and pushed the ‘eject seat’ button while they were halfway across a bridge over Gotham harbour.
so on occasions where they have to travel for vigilante jobs and need all hands on deck, they’ve learnt to just take two cars. the problem with THAT then becomes the division between the cars.
when deciding to take two cars, the first to volunteer himself away from the family is, predictably, Jason. it usually takes them like twenty minutes to convince him to officially join their little batsquad anyway, so it makes sense that he fucks off first. immediately after this, Bruce tells the other three to get into the batmobile with him only for Damian to suddenly pipe up.
“If we are to split into two convoys then it would be more beneficial for the amount of passengers to be of similar sizes. I shall travel with Red Hood.”
which. in of itself is unexpected. first that Damian didn’t demand that he be allowed to drive, and second that he willingly leave to spend alone time with Jason of all people. baffled but not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Bruce accepts this quickly and they leave. Tim and Dick don’t realise why Damian was so quick to jump cars until they arrived at their destination and see Jason’s car pull up.
windows down, Damian has his feet stretched out to lay on the dash in front. batburger in one hand and a smoothie in the other, they have a greek mythology podcast blasting from the speakers as they discuss different translations and ethical dilemmas within the stories. Jason has one hand on the steering wheel and the other leant on the window, a box of fries in the drink compartment he’s languidly eating out of as he drove. Dick and Tim, who while having enough space for once had to spend the drive in stony silence while Batman barked strategies and warnings at them, suddenly realised something.
Jason was not Bruce. Jason did not care about car etiquette, or seriousness, or being in any way a responsible brother. Jason’s car was, as a result, practically a case of lawlessness within international waters. Damian grinned smugly at them around a mouthful of burger, visually mocking them for taking so long to realise what he had clocked the second Jason asked for the keys to the second car.
and thus began the fight to be allowed to go in Jason’s car rather than Bruce’s. somehow, it brought more anarchy than all five of them being in the same car did. Jason would sit, whistling to himself patiently as the other three would spit and hiss at each other to be in his car, occasionally sending a smug smirk to Bruce, who waited impassively and (slightly) offended. there was always a switch up with one person securing a spot in Jason’s car, upon which the argument then became a case of ‘maybe three people should go with Jay and two with B?’ which had wildly mixed reviews, because although another slot in Jason’s car was desirable, agreeing to it was providing the risk that you would be the one sibling left behind to travel with Bruce. Alone.
all other vigilante/hero figures working with the bats came to expect the entertainment of when the bat cars showed up to their meeting spots. the JLA watch with poorly concealed amusement as one time Bruce showed up alone with Damian who looked three seconds away from impaling himself on his own katana, only for Jason’s car to show up two minutes later where the other three of them were loudly screaming nicki minaj songs at the top of their lungs through the open convertible roof, of which Nightwing was standing to half hang out of so he could dance.
another time both cars were running late so they switched between the com systems in both cars to check up on them and the difference between vibes was unfounded.
Green Lantern: just checking in on the batmobile, how long is your guys ETA?
Nightwing: we totally had time to stop at that drivethrough-
Robin: i hate this family.
the JL: *switch to batcar 2*
*loud mexican music and laughter*
Red Robin: OK- OK OK OK- fuck marry kill, Batman-,
Red Robin: you didn’t even hear the other options
Red Hood: *laughing* what are the other options?
Red Robin: ok, fuck marry kill, Batman, the Joker, and Superman.
Red Hood: ok so kill Batman-
Red Hood: *defensive* I DONT WANT TO LOOK AT HIS FACE!
Red Robin: ok and the others?
Red Hood: marry the Joker, because then i have ample opportunity to kill him later AND inherit everything he owns. and fuck Superman because i don’t want to commit to him but i do want to show dominance over him.
Red Robin: *uncontrollable crying-laughter*
Superman, tired: Hood. what is your ETA.
Red Robin: *laughing even harder*
Red Hood, unashamed: i’ll be home in three sweetie, don’t you worry ;)
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