Sparks Fly

"You stood there in front of me just….close enough to touch…" Dick Grayson sings along as he's driven down the road towards Wayne Manor by Tim Drake.

"You like Taylor Swift?"

"What? NO!" Dick blurted in a sad excuse for a defense. He always was a terrible liar.

"You know, when I agreed to car pull with you I didn't exactly sign up for this." Tim teased.

"I just like this song! I'm in the car a lot or patrolling by myself so I listen to the radio all the time."

"And you listen to this stuff?"

"Sorry, Tim, I'm not an intellectual like you who listens to Bach in my spare time."

"C'mon, I listen to mainstream music."

"The fact that you call it 'mainstream' says different." Dick grinned as he rested his arm on the edge of the open window and let his lengthening hair blow in the evening breeze.

"What's worse? Bach or Swift?" Tim spat back.

"It's not like I go out of my way to listen to this. She's popular and she's on practically every station sometimes."

"So…what…you listen to country now?"

"Sometimes."

"And mainstream pop?"

"Hey, that Gotye is pretty interesting."

"Who?"

"Adele?"

"That's a singer?"

"Oh, Tim, you're killin' me here. That's it, you're in serious need of an intervention."

"From good, classical music to listen to this junk?"

Dick smirked knowingly and leaned forward to change the station. Instantly Tim knew the tune and it was anything but Bach or Mozart. The strong bass and blaring electric guitar filled him with familiarity and made him think of his father and home, simpler times. A small smile tugged at his lips as he looked forward and refocused his attention on the road ahead.

"Point made. I know this song very well thank you. AC/DC's 1979 Album's title song Highway to Hell."

"And this to some people is 'junk' but what is it to you?"

"…not junk."

"Uh huh, and why is that Tim?"

"A sentimental connection from the past perfectly preserved in music by sensory memory?"

"Sheesh, yeah, but lamens terms you nerdball."

"It makes me think of something important to me."

"Bingo! Give the kid a prize."

"Okay, okay, so…music is music I got it, but really? Taylor Swift?"

"She's cute."

"Please."

"Okay, it's worse than that but I already know the song by heart isn't that bad enough?"

"Than the real reason you like it? Probably not."

"Okay, okay, Barbara likes this song. She plays it all the time and when I really listened to it…well…."

Tim's only response was to roll his eyes as he turned left onto the back road that would begin the long way up to the manor.

"What can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic and Barb does have green eyes."

"We can stop talking about this now." Tim replied dryly.

"Whatever, little brother." Dick turned up the radio in time to hear Bon Scott wail before he slouched back in his chair once again and rested his folded arms behind him.