Prompt 1:
Jason: Am I in trouble?
Bruce: Have a guess.
Jason: No?
Bruce: Have another guess.

Prompt 2:
Jason: *walks around Wayne Manor with a gun at the ready*
Bruce: Jason, don't shoot your brother.
Jason: *pauses* Which one?
Bruce: Any of them.
Jason: Fun sucker

Prompt 3:
Bruce: *sneezes*
Jason: Shut up.
*Pause*
Jason: I meant bless you, I'm sorry.
*Pause*
Jason: No, I'm not.

Prompt 4:
Jason: Aren't you supposed to be grounded?
Damian: Aren't you supposed to be dead?

Prompt 5:
Jason: *finds red sauce on his shirt* Is this blood or marinara sauce? *thinks. Licks stain*
Bruce: Jason! No!
Jason: Its sauce.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian, the annoying demon spawn, had hid Jason's favorite gun. Jason looked everywhere for it, to no avail. He swore on his own grave, if Damian did anything to his baby-

"Jason," Bruce called, not looking up from the file in his hands.

Jason stopped, easily seen through the doorway. "Yes?" he asked, cautiously. He tucked his glock- 17 (not his favorite gun) further into his side, hoping Bruce hadn't noticed it yet.

Luck was not on his side. Seriously, why did the world seem to have it out for him? Couldn't he catch a break at least once? How was this fair?

"Don't shoot your brother."

Some people deserved to get shot, and Bruce had to know that. Currently, Damian stood at the top of the list.

He had two other brothers.

"Any of them."

Jason sulked. "But what if they deserve it?"

"No."

"What if they stole something from someone?"

"No."

"What if they struck first? Then it would be self- defense," he tried.

"Jason," came the warning.

Said boy perked up, ready to bolt after his retort. "That's not a 'no!'"

Before Jason took two steps, Bruce corrected, "No."

"Come on! I swear, he really deserves it!"

"No."

"Bruce! Do you even know what he did?"

"I don't even know which of your brothers we're talking about. And it doesn't matter. You're not allowed to shoot any of your brothers for any reason."

"But-!"

"No, Jason. Just no."

"Fun sucker." Jason all but two steps before Bruce called out.

"Leave the gun."

"Oh, you just love to dill my pickle, don't you?" he growled, handing his adopted father the glock.

oOo

"Alright. Who's idea was it to wire Damian's room to fling him out the window and into the pool?"

Stephanie couldn't contain her giggles. "That explains so much." She laughed harder under the soaked Damian's glare. His bangs dripped in from of his eyes, arms folded across his chest.

"This isn't funny, Brown."

"Au contraire, mon frère."

Damian turned his glare to Tim. "Drake." His voice stayed low and steady, a question mixed with an accusation.

Tim cocked an eyebrow, his tone light and teasing, "What? Are you so hot- headed you need more time to chill out?"

Bruce sighed, grabbing the back of Damian's shirt before he could launch toward his adopted brother. "Just tell me who did the prank."

Dick, who had left the room the moment he saw the soaked Damian, entered with a towel. He immediately went over to his youngest brother, rubbing the towel messily over his hair.

"Grayson!" Damian protested.

Don't ask how, but Dick kept his grip on the boy, coddling the smaller figure. Damian looked more embarrassed than annoyed, but everyone knew he secretly loved the attention. Dick's hand was always kind and patient with him, no matter how bratty he got. Though he'd never admit it aloud, Dick was his favorite.

"Awe, the little demon spawn still needs help getting clean," his most aggravating brother cooed. "I thought I had helped enough."

Damian instantly pushed Dick back, his glare full of rage. "It was you!"

Before anyone could stop him, Damian leapt five feet. He used his blunt nails to claw at Jason's smudge face, screaming his revenge.

"DAMIAN!"

It took several minutes to pry the two boys apart, but the Wayne family finally managed it.

Damian ignored his busted lip, continuing to reach out towards Jason. Jason cackled, holding a hand to his bloody nose. Trails of bright pink and oozing red ran across Jason's cheeks and chin, with bits of skin and blood trapped under Damian's fingernails.

"Still worth it."

"Todd!" Stephanie had to aid Tim and Dick in restricting Damian, who found a new wave of furry to energize him.

"Jason," Bruce sighed, getting everyone's attention.

"Am I in trouble?"

"Have a guess."

"No? Sweet."

Bruce huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Have another guess."

"You suck, Bruce. Damian totally deserved it."

"I did not!"

"How so?" Bruce complied, ignoring his son's protests.

"He stole my favorite gun!"

"That was two weeks ago, Todd!"

Jason continued, "And because of that, he-" Jason threw his arm towards Bruce "-took my glock away (which I still haven't gotten back, by the way)!"

"And you're not going to."

"But Bruce!"

"No, Jason. Just no. Now you're both grounded for two weeks. No patrol, no leaving the manor for anything except school."

"I don't go to school!" Jason cried. "And I don't live here! You can't ground me!"

"I can, and I did."

"But, Father-" Damian tried.

"No buts. To your rooms, both of you. And Jason, change your shirt. Damian got blood on it."

Jason looked down, pulling the part of his shirt with the red stain in for closer inspection. He sniffed. "I don't think this is blood. I think it's marinara. Is it? I think- hmm."

He licked it.

"Jason, no!"

He smacked his lips, the sound popping with excess saliva. "Yeah, it's sauce."

"Just go to your room."

Bruce was done. So done.

Jason had annoyed both Bruce and Damian.

Yeah. He felt accomplished.

Before another threat could be made, Bruce sneezed.

"Shut up," Jason barked.

Everyone turned to look at the grounded hoodlum.

"I meant 'bless you,' sorry."

No one believed him, all giving knowing looks and raised eyebrows.

"Okay, I'm not sorry."

"Just go to your room, Jason."

"Fudge unicorns cuddling kittens," he grumbled under his breath.

"Jason."

"What?"

"Another week."

"Damn it, Bruce! I didn't actually say it!"

"You wanna make it three?"

His shoulders sagged. "No."

"Then go. To. Your. Room."

oOo A month later oOo

Jason behaved well enough to get ungrounded and was enjoying the free life. Damian, however, had just gotten re-grounded, much to Jason's amusement.

It was definitely a challenge getting pass the big bad Bat, especially when he knows you're going to try to sneak out. So how Damian managed to get to downtown Gotham when he had failed to get passed the mansion gates, Jason didn't know.

"Aren't you supposed to be grounded?" he asked the newest Robin.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Too shay."

Robin eyed his soaked bag. "What's in the bag?"

Though Robin couldn't see it behind the hood, Jason's eyes narrowed.

Robin smirked, "And where's the blood from? Or should I say whom?"

"No one."

"Todd, what did you do?"

Before Jason could deny anything else, shots fired in the bar behind him, a known place for the growing gang in the area. Seconds later, a firey explosion blasted out the front windows, catapulting the occupants into the building across the street.

Robin arched an eyebrow. "Impressive."

"You didn't see me; I didn't see you."

"Something we can agree on."

Robin disappeared into the shadows, ignoring the machine guns the Red Hood pulled out of the bag and leapt to the ground.

Robin continued on, ignoring shouts and screams as Red Hood took out the gang.

Maybe the little brat wasn't so bad.

Then again, the first grenade Jason threw was full of glitter instead of shrapnel.

Jason had to make an effort not to reveal the rat's name.

"Dam- Robin!"

When did he even switch them out? They were in Jason's leather jacket. Damian didn't even come close enough to touch him!

Wait.

He had one moment. ONE.

And glitter? He barely knew the brat, but that didn't seem like Damian's style.

Dick.

The kid spent too much time with Dick.

Jason pulled out a second grenade, threw it, and ducked. He was thankful when he heard it go off.

He'd get them both back for the glitter grenade.

Mark. His. Thoughts.

They would pay.