Author's Note: This is the first piece in a little shorts series I'm calling 'Ordinary Things.' It will probably be somewhere between four and six chapters, with each chapter featuring Dick and one other person doing something 'ordinary' that turns extraordinary. The underlying inspiration for this series is the quote "Sometimes the most ordinary things can be made extraordinary, simply by doing them with the right people."

Happy reading!

"How's it going, little brother?"

Damian slackened his pressure on the nozzle of a long hose and watched the cold stream die away before he answered. "The same as I said earlier. Stupidly."

Dick sighed. "Dami-"

"Why do we have to wash the car every damn night, anyway? It's just going to get dirty again when we go out later. This is a waste of time." Aggravated, he nudged a nearby bucket with his foot. It tipped, seemed about to go over, then defied him by settling back into place.

"Well..." Dick leaned against a pillar, his face pensive. "I guess it goes back to something Bruce used to say."

"Oh, great. I swear to God, Grayson, if you're going to get sappy..."

"I'm not," he assured. "I'm not. But Bruce used to say that going out with day-old dirt on the Batmobile would make it look like we'd gotten lazy. He said if people thought that, their fear of us – or their awe of us, depending on the person – might wane. It was kind of difficult for me to see why that mattered back then, but I guess being responsible for Batman's image has given me some perspective." His shoulders rose and fell in a gentle shrug. "That's all it is, really, is imagery, but imagery is everything. Especially when it's going past at eighty miles an hour," he joked. "On the plus side, you should be about done by now, right?"

"Yeah. So can we go already?"

"In a sec. Just let me check." The man walked towards the vehicle with his thumbs stuck in his belt loops. When he reached the far side, he groaned. "Daaaami..."

"What?! I washed the stupid thing, didn't I?"

"You didn't rinse this side before the soap dried. It's all smeary and spotted."

"Tsk." Dropping the hose, he crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "So what, am I grounded or something now? That's what he'd do."

Dick's gaze hardened, and Damian knew he might have pushed too far. After a moment his posture relaxed, however, and a hint of a smile crossed his lips. "No. You're not grounded. But," he went on before the boy could start to think he'd gotten away with his half-assed scrubbing, "you do have to wash the car properly before we can go out."

"Goddamn it-"

"In the interest of time," he overrode him, "I'll help you."

Damian paused. "Help me how?"

"You wash, I'll rinse. That way you don't have to run back and forth, and I can make sure that all of the soap gets cleaned off. Deal?"

"...Can we make it fast?" As it was they would be eating into patrol time, and he got little enough of that as it was.

"That's up to you. The faster you scrub, the faster I rinse, the faster we go. Got it?"

He glanced down at the pail of soapy water he'd kicked before and was suddenly glad that it hadn't overturned. Bending down, he seized it. "Yeah. Okay. Let's get this over with."

Five minutes later he'd worked his way up one side and onto the hood. His sponge was performing a few final circles on a headlight when a blast of icy liquid hit him just below the right knee. His jeans and sock were instantly soaked, sticking to his skin like a clammy wrapper. "What the hell, Grayson!" he shouted, turning.

"Sorry! I wasn't aiming for you, honest."

"...Don't do it again."

"Okay, okay."

For a while, all was calm. As Damian leaned down to swipe at the spots along the bottom of the passenger door, though, he was doused again. This time the water hit his left wrist and ran down his arm, slipping under his sleeve and into his armpit. Caught off guard, he squealed and leaped away from the car. An instant later, embarrassed by his childish reaction, he lobbed the sponge at his brother. "Asshole! Oh..." His hand went to his mouth as the soapy object hit Dick square in the face. It hung there for an moment before it succumbed to gravity, leaving behind a grinning, sputtering figure. "Um...Grayson...shit..."

"I'm gonna get you for that, little brother."

"What- ah!" he cried as the spray was turned on him once again. He ducked, but the hose followed him, dropping to direct its payload beneath the vehicle. "Son of a-"

"Are you going to whine or fight, Dami?!"

That joyful call made him smirk. This wasn't just payback; his partner was having fun. Eyeing a new weapon that could match the one firing on him, his resolve firmed. "I choose fighting!" he hollered, and bolted to re-equip himself.

He was dripping from head to toe by the time he got the second hose hooked up, but his retribution was swift. Giving a great battle cry, he bolted around the car and sent water everywhere. A series of stumbling splashes resulted, signifying his opponent's retreat, and his smirk turned into a full-on grin. Maybe, he reflected as he darted backwards towards the relative safety of the vehicle's rear, just maybe, washing the car wasn't so bad after all.

They carried on for another ten minutes before their half-frozen hands began to cramp. "Truce?" Dick's disembodied voice submitted, and Damian, panting as he leaned against a damp hubcap, didn't argue.

"Truce."

Abandoning their armaments, they stepped out of hiding and took in one another's condition. There was scarely a dry spot on either of them, and as they realized as much both laughed. "You're soaked," Dick pointed.

"You're soaked," Damian pointed back.

"Yeah..." The man stretched, then closed the gap between them and slung his arm around the child's shoulders. "Nice shot with that sponge, little brother."

"Yeah, well..." He blushed, not having meant to hit him in the face but unwilling to apologize for having done so.

"It's okay," he was excused. "I needed a shower anyway. Besides, that was one heck of an opening salvo."

"I believe in finishing my enemies quickly." As he slipped out of the embrace, his eyes fell on the Batmobile. "Ah, shit, it's still half-streaky!"

To his surprise, Dick made a disinterested noise in the back of his throat. "That's okay. I'm going to go start changing. You clean up out here so Alfred doesn't have a fit, then get ready."

"But you said the car has to be clean!"

"It does. And it will be before we go." Ruffling the boy's hair, he started towards the main section of the underground complex. "We'll just take it through the car wash," he called over his shoulder.

Damian's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me?! What fucking car wash?"

"The one here in the cave. Bruce just preferred a more hands-on approach, so we almost never used it." Pausing, he looked back and grinned. "We can from now on, though, if you want. But Dami?"

"What?" he ground out, waiting for an opportunity to grab the hose at his feet once more and punish Grayson for keeping such a convenient secret from him.

"If you spray me as I walk away, we'll never wash the car by hand again." Tossing him a knowing wink, he swiveled on his heel and started off to gear up.

He was torn, aching for revenge but also secretly hoping that the play they'd indulged in tonight might be repeated at a later date. His gaze travelled between his mentor's receding back and the nozzle shining temptingly near his toes. Finally Dick was far enough away that the water's arc wouldn't reach far enough to be effective. Damian sighed, half relieved and half disappointed. Giving people what they deserved was great, he mused, but somehow...somehow what had just happened was much, much better. With that in mind, he bent down and began cleaning up.