Three Moves Ahead
anyafishies said: It would be amazing if you could do a fic where the batboys work together to prank the arrow boys (or the speedsters), just for fun ;)
Characters: Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, an unspecified Arrow.
Err… sorry if this isn’t what you had in mind!
—
Bruce is pacing. His footsteps are almost silent on the Cave floor, but that doesn’t make him any less terrifying.
Something bad is about to go down. And Alfred was sent away, which means it’s bad bad.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve brought you all here,” Bruce says finally, but it’s Batman.
Dick twitches, slightly. Otherwise, they’re still. Standing at attention, tallest to shortest.
Finally, realising Bruce expects an answer, Dick mumbles, “Yes sir”, followed quickly by Tim and then Damian. Jason just nods.
The silence that follows is long.
“The Batmobile,” Bruce says, slow. Quiet. “Is missing.”
Dick does the little twitch again, and Jason goes rigid. Damian goes a funny sort of pale and chews his lip, immediately dropping his eyes to the floor. Tim is the only one who doesn’t move at all, which is a tell in itself.
Then, “Where is it.”
“Maybe you loaned it to a friend–”
“You probably forgot where you parked it–”
“Have you checked the carwash?”
Bruce makes a sharp motion with his hand. Silence falls, immediate and consuming.
“It seems to me,” the words are deceptively soft. “That you’re all making guesses. But the fact that no one will look me in the eye tells me you all know where it is.”
Jason rocks back on his heels.
Dick looks at the ceiling.
Tim stares determinedly over Bruce’s shoulder.
Damian covers his mouth before realising the tell, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.
Bruce clears his throat.
“You tell him,” hissed to Dick. “He loves you most.”
“You should tell ‘im, D, you’re smallest and cutest.”
“Your relationship with my father is practically non-existent already, you tell him.”
“Why you little shi–”
”You have to the count of three.”
“T-the Arrows have it,” Dick says. Winces, closes his eyes. “Maybe. You know, hypothetically.”
The silence that follows is long and terrible.
“Oliver Queen,” Bruce says eventually. If it weren’t for the fact his sons were too afraid to breathe, none of them would have caught it at all. Then, voice raising, “Oliver Queen has my car?”
“Well, maybe not directly. I mean. Not yet, you know,” Jason says. “…hypothetically.”
”Explain.”
“It’s. Sort of. A prank war,” Tim suggests. “With the Arrows. Um, Ollie wasn’t involved, but I guess he. Might be. Now.”
“To be fair,” Dick says, eyes still closed. “We may have and I’m not saying we did, but we may have. Taken the Arrow Car first.”
“We didn’t take it so much as move it,” Jason explains.
“And spray-paint it,” Damian reminds him. “Parts of it, anyway.”
“You’re telling me,” Bruce says. “You gave Oliver Queen what is practically an engraved invitation to take my car and deface it?”
“It started off small,” Dick says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like, really small, but it sort of. Escalated. We didn’t intend–”
Bruce stares, effectively shutting Dick up.
“…If it helps, we’re winning.”
”My car is gone, Jason. Which part of that is winning?” It’s a snarl. “You boys have done some stupid things in the past. A lot of stupid things. But this,” he shakes his head. Slow. Dangerous. “Childish. Immature. Moronic. I thought you were bad individually, but together you reach a new level of idiocy.”
The silence is absolute, broken only by Bruce exhaling, loudly, through his nose.
“Your punishment,” he says. “Is going to take some creative thinking on my part. After you get my goddamn car back and repair any and all damages. As for your punishment, I can assure you– I AM SO SORRY TIM, ARE WE KEEPING YOU FROM SOMETHING.”
Tim looks up from checking his phone for the third time in as many minutes. The teen blinks up at him, owlishly, sliding the phone back into his pocket. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Please, by all means continue.”
Bruce opens his mouth again to speak, but there is a horrifyingly loud screech of tyres. Below them, the Batmobile comes to a shuddering halt.
For a full fifteen seconds, there is absolute silence. Then a shriek from inside the car, “AUTO PILOT? You sons of bitches!”
Tim whistles, hands in pockets. “Right on time.” He stands on tiptoe to get a look at the car below. “That worked even better than I’d anticipated. Which is lucky, the programming was a bitch.”
His family stare at him. Open-mouthed.
Tim stares back, equally bewildered. “D-did you honestly not expect them to steal it as payback?”
-THE END-
