I love the idea of Jason somehow becoming Damian's designated driving instructor when he turns 16. Nobody remembers how it happened, least of all Jason.
———
"You're going to kill us both," Jason says calmly, one hand braced against the dashboard as Damian takes a corner at approximately twice the recommended speed.
"Tt. I have perfect reflexes, Todd. I was trained by the League of Assassins."
"Yeah, to kill people, not parallel park. Slow DOWN."
The car screeches to a halt at a red light, throwing them both forward. Jason sighs deeply.
"I've literally trained with Formula One drivers," Damian mutters, tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. “I’ve been driving since I could speak.”
"Is that why you're treating Gotham's pothole-ridden streets like Monaco? Light's green."
As Damian accelerates again, Jason gets a text. He glances down to see it's from Dick.
'how's it going?'
'he's either going to be the best driver in the family or we're both going to die. no in-between.'
"Stop texting Grayson about me," Damian says without looking away from the road.
"Stop reading my texts while you're DRIVING."
"I have peripheral vision superior to—"
"I SWEAR TO GOD, DEMON SPAWN—"
Bruce calls Jason later that night. "How did it go?"
"Great. Your son only tried to kill me seven different ways with my beat up old Toyota. New record."
"So... you'll take him again Thursday?"
Jason hangs up, but they both know he'll be there.