Work Text:
Alfred had been a very strict teacher. Somehow, in between all the regular butler-ing for Bruce, plus the number one aide to Batman-ing, plus being Tim and Stephanie’s wedding planning assistant, Alfred had found time to be a dance teacher.
It was honestly rather sweet.
“This is the first wedding the Wayne family has had in two generations. Forgive me if I get a little over excited.”
Stephanie had never seen such sparkles in Alfred’s eyes before.
As it was, they would spend every evening in the ballroom of Wayne Manor, practicing over, and over, and over again. Alfred wanted the two to look effortless.
But Tim and Stephanie were not Dick or Cassandra when it came to dancing. As a matter of fact, dancing came as easily to Tim as any of his fighting skills. That is to say, he had no innate talent for it. He had to work, and work hard, to get it right. Stephanie had a slight advantage, being a gymnast when she was younger meant she had better rhythm than he, but as it was, she too was struggling.
“You have to let him lead, Miss Brown,” Alfred chided near daily.
“But I’m no good,” Tim moaned. Stephanie meanwhile stood six steps away, arms folded defensively.
The weather had been frightfully warm this week, and looked as though it was going to continue. The ballroom, with its huge glass windows and doors, felt akin to a greenhouse, rising all the time in temperature and humidity.
Stephanie tugged at her shorts, bemoaning having to stand in her wedding shoes for this long. She’d need to take them off on the day, she was sure of it. They’d been practicing for so long and so hard that she had scuffed them the other day, which Alfred had uncharacteristically panicked at. Snatching them away, of course the man also fancied himself a cobbler, on top of his many other talents.
If Stephanie had her way, the reception would not involve a waltz as a first dance. It had been strangely important to Tim. She could tell though, he was starting to doubt himself. They’d committed to this though, and the wedding was barely two weeks off. Of all the things that were stressing Tim about the wedding, Stephanie was surprised it was the concept of the first dance. Did he think their family and friends would mock them for it?
“Should we change song?” she asked. It was still playing in the background, some Shostakovich waltz that she’d heard before but never known the actual title of. It was a nice song. Incredibly romantic, which - if she was being brutally honest - Tim wasn’t particularly. It was all a bit suspicious.
“No!” both he and Alfred yelled out. Embarrassed, Tim stepped away, hands shaking, trying to work through his aggravation. Alfred took a deep breath, stating, “We have made many strides, it’s important to see the things through that we start.”
“Yes but…”
Tim turned back. “I’m letting you curate everything you want for this thing-”
Stephanie became alarmed. “I haven’t been pushy have I? I keep asking you to look at the flowers I picked and…”
“No, but…” Tim sighed. “I want this one thing. Please.”
She nodded. “I don’t like seeing you upset.”
“I’m not”- he cut himself off, exhaling heavily - “It’s the heat,” he weakly argued.
Alfred it seemed had finally had enough for the day. “We shall try again tomorrow. We’ll get there, don’t worry. Plenty of time still.”
Stephanie observed Tim, then turned back to Alfred, “Can you leave the music? I just want a couple more tries with him.”
Alfred did so, and Stephanie watched Tim walk valleys into the marbled floor. When the large doors leading away from the room closed, Stephanie cut through Tim’s path of brooding.
“What’s so special about this song?” she asked.
He tensed, impossibly looking stiffer and more robotic, and Stephanie knew she had hit the nail on the head. “Tim?” she prodded.
He was soon back in her arms, their cheeks pressed together. “My mom and dad had this song at their wedding. I know they weren’t exactly happy at the end, but I thought, if I can’t have them here, to see you, then…”
Sweet boy. Sweet, lovely, kind, earnest, darling boy.
“God, I love you,” she said, pushing hard so she could look him in the eye. “And I think this is a perfect way to make sure they’re remembered. No changing the song then. Come on. Keep trying. We’ll get there. Be confident.”
Her hand found his, whilst her waist was held tight. He looked down, like he always did, watching his feet. Stephanie for once listened to Alfred’s advice, and allowed herself to be dragged around. She could hear him mutter to himself one two three, one two three four, one two three over and over. Her smile widened.
He glanced up at the wrong moment, seeing her look at him so indulgently, and blushed.
“I am trying,” he argued.
She tilted her head, knowing she was watching him unabashedly and adoringly. “I know. I’m just thinking that…”
“What?” he asked, pulling her around the room. It was the longest he’d gone without looking down. He stumbled a number of times, movements jerky and still not practiced, but Stephanie wanted to push that it wasn’t the point.
Picturing Jack in her mind’s eye, she couldn’t imagine the man was much of a dancer either, even in his younger years.
Tim spun her out, allowing her to twist on the balls of her feet, then return to his embrace. It was the first time they’d gotten it right. The proud look on Tim’s features reminded her of a smug cat. She couldn’t help it, she laughed brightly.
“…You’re so fucking cute, Tim. You have no idea.”
“I try,” he said, shrugging bashfully.
Impulsively, she kissed his cheek. “And it counts for everything. Keep going. We’ll get there.”
And he did.