Work Text:
The Manor ballroom glittered; sequined dresses, gold candelabras on tables that flanked the sides of the room, diamonds on perfumed necks, cuff-links, and a crystal chandelier that cascaded from the center of the ceiling. It shined like the sun and was a beacon attracting various guests to the center of the room where they gossiped and laughed and mingled. Jason had to squint every once and a while, his eyes would get sore staring at the chandelier and avoiding numerous gazes.
Jason squinted now. Relaxed a fraction. Up against the wall—his back digging into its molding—he stuck close to the catering table, shrimp cocktail in hand, listening to the piano across the room. The pianist was next to the dais, playing away like no one was watching. They weren’t. They were all eyeing each other and occasionally Jason, but Dick seemed to be covering the ‘sociable and charismatic son’ role tonight, which Jason appreciated. If he had to smile at one more backhanded compliment he’d be throwing his cocktail in someone’s face.
They also watched when Bruce was up there, speaking for however long about protecting homeless youth in Gotham, something only a few of them actually seemed to care about. No, they didn’t care. This was just a competition. To see who could spend the most, who glittered the brightest. Jason had to admire Bruce’s persistence in trying to get people to care.
Violin played and with closed eyes it was easy to pretend he wasn’t there. He was in the kitchen with Alfred instead, listening to one of his records while he showed Jason how to knead pie crust correctly. He was on patrol with Bruce and doing legitimate good, the AC in the ballroom instead wind on his face. These were much more pleasant than a dick measuring contest between socialites.
“With all your brooding, you almost look like Bruce.”
Speaking of dicks. Jason glanced at the space next to him. Dick in a flurry of movement—his hair slightly ruffled and curled around the ears—leaned against the wall and stole one of Jason’s shrimp. His suit was the only colorful one amongst the men there; powder blue, velvet, top three shirt buttons opened and despite being simple, was eccentric compared to everyone else. Jason himself was wearing a black suit, he didn’t want to stick out here.
“Don’t touch my shrimp asshole.”
Dick stuck his tongue out. “Don’t be greedy. And don’t say that word either. Language.”
“Yeah okay,” Jason scoffed, “because asshole is definitely the worst word I have in my arsenal.”
The song ended and a new one began. It was pluckier, light and playful. Dick shrugged. “Need to be on our best behavior for B. I’m just glad I won’t have to attend another one of these for six months.”
“They aren’t so bad, there’s nice music and good food.” Jason paused. “Are you staying here tonight?”
A hum. “Maybe. Depends on how tired I am, tonight's my night off patrol-wise so I might just drive up to Bludhaven in the morning.” Dick smirked. “Why? Want to show off a new chess technique or some other nerdy thing?”
“Fuck off.”
“Aw, don't be like that.” Dick said, ruffling Jason’s hair. Jason batted his hand away. “It’s sweet how nerdy you are.”
Jason glared at him and considered how grounded he’d be for flipping Dick off. A woman across the room stumbled and almost knocked down one of the waiters. She grabbed a flute of champagne off the tray they were holding and downed it in one go, then another one and walked away teetering a little. Her dress—floor length and cream, it blended seamlessly with the walls—dragged a little behind her. It was a miracle she hadn’t tripped.
Dick whistled. “That was a close one. Twenty bucks that she’ll fall by the end of the night.”
“It’ll definitely be sooner than that.” Jason said. “Like in the next ten minutes.”
“I don’t know, she’s been drinking like that since Bruce’s speech ended and is only just starting to lose motor functions. I’m thinking she’s got a high tolerance.”
“I bet she’ll fall by 10 p.m.”
“What time is it?”
Jason checked his watch. “9:30.”
Dick grinned. “I like those odds. I’m betting on 11:00.”
“Jason, over here!”
Eyes coasting across the room, they zeroed in on Bruce who was waving him over. Jason sighed and handed Dick the cocktail. “Hold my shrimp.”
It hurt a little to paste a smile on so hastily. He made his way over as quick as possible, his gaze moving from the hardwood floors to Bruce and keeping them off the guests. Their eyes were stuck on him.
Bruce smiled big and wide, pulling him into his side. “This is my youngest, Jason.”
The man Bruce was talking to narrowed his eyes a little at his arrival. Up and down. Judging. Jason felt a little sick. “What a…bright young boy.” He said, smirking and smarmy. “He must take after his father.”
And then the smirk grew a little. Like he was waiting for something. The man passed a hand over his bald head that shone underneath the chandelier and it looked oily.
But Bruce only smiled. It was small, not twinkling and too bright. Warm. “Yes, he really does take after me.” The smile was turned onto Jason and he couldn’t help but return it, and this time it didn’t hurt at all. Bruce ruffled his hair and looked back at the man. His hand was still on Jason’s head. “He’s going to change the world, I just know it.”
The woman ended up falling a few minutes later and Dick reluctantly passed him the cash. Once the gala ended they all ended up in the kitchen. Bruce didn’t get to eat during it since he was making rounds and trying to convince people to donate and Jason wanted to show Dick his Pokemon team on the gameboy. He had managed to catch a shiny pidgey, he couldn’t not show him.
“Alright.” Bruce said after Dick and Jason had gone back and forth for a bit. “It’s late and you have school tomorrow. Go to bed.”
Jason sighed. “Fine. Night B. Night Dick.”
“Night!”
“Goodnight, Jay.”
As he went upstairs to get ready for bed, the exhaustion from the evening settled over his skin. All the backhanded comments, his sore eyes, the violin’s music that was still bouncing around in his mind. At least that one man was nice, comparing him to Bruce. Jason paused, midway in bed. It wasn’t a comparison to Bruce. Not with his tone of voice, his sneers. It must’ve been a comparison to Jason’s biological father. His chest tightened.
But Bruce didn’t take it like that. Whether he recognized the comment for what it was or not, he thought of Jason as his son and said so to the man. Bruce had said it before, that blood didn’t matter to him when it came to family, but to hear it so plainly made Jason feel like he truly meant it. Like it wasn’t an elaborate pleasantry that Bruce would say to a guest at one of his galas.
Jason fell asleep in the dark, smile adorned, and rested under the warm glow of a promise.