a/n:

lets just say the roads are safer without Mouse on them


Driving Lessons

Learning how to drive has always been something Jason wanted to do. Even before Bruce took him in, Jason wanted to drive, wanted to have the freedom to go wherever he wanted, to be in charge of how he got there, to be able to dictate when he can leave.

And, sure, he can always just do it. He's smart, clever, has a natural instinct for this sort of thing. If you put him behind the wheel, Jason's pretty sure he can make it from point A to B without crashing, without veering too close to the sidewalk, but with all the things he does behind the police's back, outside the law, he figured that this, this is the one thing he can do by the book.

At least until he needs to make a quick getaway, then there really isn't much he can do about that.

Anyway, Jason's quite confident he can get his license without sweat. It's just, he thought that it would be good if his little mouse could learn, too, for emergencies. She had refused profusely when he brought it up, had begged Jason all the way to the counter to let her just stay home, told him that she had no interest going anywhere that wasn't walking distance from their apartment. But Jason had fate in her.

Which he is seeing now, with each lesson that they take, was greatly misplaced, that for the first time in a long time, he's miscalculated.

"Try to relax, mouse," Jason says through gritted teeth when the instructor's advice doesn't seem to be helping. The car lurches once more and Jason feels a migraine forming.

"I'm trying." She's tense. More tense than he's ever seen her. Her shoulders are practically to her ears and her knuckles are white with how hard she's gripping the steering wheel. She presses on the break too strongly and Jason chokes when the seatbelt snaps him back into his seat. "I just, couldn't we do this with an automatic? I only have two feet."

"It's better to learn manual first," the instructor says, tone kind but tired. It's the same question every lesson. "If you can drive a manual, you can drive an automatic."

"Also, you don't use both feet in an automatic," Jason adds.

"So, what you're saying is—" She drives over a hump too quickly making the car and everyone in it jump. Jason thinks that this, this is probably how it felt to be in the back of the batmobile during that night. "What you're saying is, I just can't drive."

"No, of course not—"

"Yes, mouse, you can't drive. This was a bad idea. That's on me," Jason cuts the instructor off because he's pretty sure any longer in the car he's going to vomit. "Get out. I'll take it from here."

"Mr. Todd, I think—"

"Thank you!" She jumps out from her seat and Jason barely has a chance to tell her to look before she swings the door open. A speeding car zooms past them, slamming into her open door, tearing it off its hinges. She lets out a shriek and falls back into her chair just as a police car quickly follows, sirens wailing.

"Good Heavens! Are you okay?" The driving instructor looks like they're about to pass out. Jason feels like his heart is going to jump out his throat.

"I'm fine." She's shaken but unharmed. Also, a little pissed off but that's assuring in its own way. "Did you get the plate number of that jerk?"

"I'll deal with it tonight," Jason assures her when he feels like his heart is back to normal, steady and strong against his chest. "What did I say about checking before you open the door, mouse?"

"What did I say when I said I shouldn't be allowed behind the wheel?"

"Touché."