Chapter Text
Bruce Wayne was a horribly lonely man.
He had no friends, and the closest thing he had to family was his butler Alfred, who he loved dearly as a father, but it wasn’t the same thing. Bruce became reserved after his parent's death, never really talking to anyone outside his home…well anyone except the Watsons.
The Watsons (particularly Crystal Watson) were close family friends with the Waynes. Crystal Watson was childhood friends with Martha Wayne, and she was Bruce’s Godmother. The families spent a lot of time together, at parties, fundraisers, and other excuses rich people have to get together and flaunt their money. And when talking of the Watsons, it is imperative you talk about Leslie Watson.
Leslie Watson was a wild and unattainable woman.
Ever since they were children, Leslie and Bruce didn’t particularly get along with each other. Leslie was always too loud, or she ran around too much for Bruce to really enjoy her company. The fact that Bruce was 9 years older than Leslie also played into account his initial dislike of her. But they grew close over the years of knowing each other, being the only two non-adults at “family functions”, they would spend time talking together. But it was mostly Leslie talking about how ridiculous everyone looked and forcing Bruce to have tea parties with her.
As the years went on, Bruce stopped going to more and more events, and Leslie grew up feeling like she was alone. Her father was some big shot executive who didn’t really care for her that much, and her mother was always off doing something in a foreign country, leaving Leslie behind to grow up on her own. She missed Bruce from time to time, reminiscing about the fun they had, but she was sure it was one-sided fun at best.
Bruce thought of Leslie from time to time as well. Sometimes Alfred would make him tea, and he would smile from the memories of wearing tiaras and pretending to drink tea from much too expensive teacups that any child should have. Sometimes out on his nights as Batman, he would peer into family living rooms and see kids playing and running around like he and Leslie used to do, but those were all distant memories.
As the two grew up, they naturally grew apart. It had been years since either of them had seen each other, Bruce was not one for being seen in public, and Leslie was far too interested in the freedom of college life to really care about being seen or heard from in the public eye. It was safe to say the two had forgotten about each other for the most part until…
“Letter Master Wayne” Alfred spoke up as Bruce entered the office. He rubbed his eyes, still tired from the night before, and plopped down in the seat across from Alfred.
“Who's it from?” He asked leaning his head back and rubbing his temples.
“The Watsons” Alfred responded, flipping through the pages of the newspaper he was reading. Bruce snapped his head to look at Alfred with wide eyes.
“The Watsons? What do they want, I haven’t spoken to them in years.” Bruce said, now reaching for the letter in the center of the table.
“Not sure, but it must be important.” Alfred hummed while flipping the page. “Mrs. Watson came by and hand-delivered it, said it was extremely important you attend” Bruce opened the letter and read it.
“It’s Leslie’s birthday,” Bruce said as he continued reading the letter. “Her party is tomorrow night” he put the letter on the table, without taking his eyes off of it though.
“Oh well, that's lovely! You haven’t seen Miss Watson in, oh how long?” Alfred spoke over his paper.
“Ten years” Bruce said flatly. After he’d turned 20, he had pretty much retreated from the public eye completely, and apparently, he cut off the closest thing he had to family.
“Then it will be even more lovely to see her, and the Watsons again now,” Alfred said folding the paper and setting it down on the table.
“I can’t go, Alfred, the city needs me…the city needs him. ” Bruce protested.
“Oh bugger. You can put your vigilante revenge aside for one night to see an old friend.” Alfred ordered. Bruce just took a deep breath, he knew Alfred was right, he was getting pretty tired after all.
“Besides, I’m scared to think what that Mrs. Watson would do to me if you didn’t show.”
“Mother, I look absolutely ridiculous” Leslie protested looking at herself in the mirror. The dress she had on was over the top, with way too much lace, and way too much color for her taste.
“Don’t be silly sweetie, you look gorgeous.” her mother said running her hand over a stray ruffle of the dress.
“You would think I'm buying a wedding dress with this price tag, and not a stupid party dress,” Leslie said sourly, taking the dress tag in her hand and looking at the price with one too many zeros for her liking.
“Well, it’s a very special occasion, for a very special birthday,” Leslie’s mother said walking around fixing little things on the dress that didn’t need to be fixed.
“How is 21 any more special than 18, or even 16 for that matter?” Leslie said, pissed off.
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see then hmm?” her mother said taking a seat on a couch nearby. “Go try on the last one we picked out. I think you might actually like that one,” she said. Leslie rolled her eyes and gathered up the excess material of the dress, this was going to be a long few days, she could tell.
It had been close to four years since Bruce had to dress up, so looking at himself in the mirror felt weird. He felt uncomfortable in the clothes, and in his body. His hair was tousled and messy no matter how much he combed it, and his eyes had massive bags under them, even though he slept in later than usual today.
He wasn’t even sure why he was going. He would much rather be out saving Gotham from scum on the streets than go to some girl-who-he-hasn’t-seen-in-10-year’s birthday party. But yet, here he was, pacing around his room, nervous to go see her. Maybe it was Alfred’s persuasion, or the letter from Mrs. Watson saying he had to go, or maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see her, maybe he missed her. He stopped pacing and looked at himself in the mirror, and he saw something he hadn’t seen on himself in years- blush. He shook his head, ran his hand through his hair one last time, and trudged downstairs to meet Alfred and head out for the party.
With very loud, very aggressive music playing over the speakers in her room Leslie got ready for her party. Well, it was more her mother’s party than it was hers, her mother planned it all, and she had no part in it whatsoever. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be the center of the party, because she was. She had spent the last 2 hours getting ready, showering, shaving everything (because who knows what handsome rich boy might show up), makeup, hair, the whole shebang.
She shimmied into her dress, it was shorter and ended halfway down her thighs, and it was a little formfitting, not so much that she couldn’t breathe, but it left little to the imagination. The back was her favorite part, it was half open and had straps going across to give a sort of criss-cross appearance. It was off-white in color and had sequins across the whole dress, making her kind of look like a disco ball, but a hot disco ball.
As she put on the diamond earrings she got for her 19th birthday, she looked at herself in the mirror. She was…pretty. She didn’t often think of herself as pretty, yes she was attractive, she had a good bone structure in her face, and her boobs were big enough to be seen, but not too big as to be unmanageable. But for a moment, Leslie Watson liked what she saw in the mirror, which wasn’t something that happened very often to her. She shook her head, turned off her music, and gulped down the rest of the tequila she was drinking before putting on a fake smile and going downstairs.
The drive to the party was long and quiet. Bruce thought about who would be there. Obviously the Watsons, and probably the other uptight rich families in Gotham. But he was most worried about Leslie, he had no idea why. The last time he saw her she was 11, and she’d obviously grown up a lot since then, but so has he. Maybe she wouldn’t like him anymore, not that he was weird and quiet and reserved. Maybe she’d forgotten about him, and won't recognize him, what if she doesn’t like how he-
“Master Bruce, we’re here,” Alfred said as the car pulled to a stop, and Bruce looked up to the absurdly tall building that the Watson’s called home in downtown Gotham. He stepped out of the car and begrudgingly made his way up the elevator with Alfred to the party. As the two men stepped into the elevator, the small compartment fell silent.
“You excited?” Alfred asked. Bruce looked over at him and said nothing, referring to looking straight ahead as he had been before. “Can you at least promise me you’ll talk to one person this evening and not just stand as an awkward wallflower all night?” Alfred asked. Bruce sighed deeply and the elevator doors opened with a ding and the two men walked out into the party.
They had apparently arrived late, as it seemed half the city of Gotham was already in the living room of the Watsons. They navigated their way in, with Alfred leading the way when all the sudden-
“Alfred!” a high-pitched yell was heard from one side of the room.
“Crystal!” Alfred responded to her, obviously less enthusiastic. Crystal Watson was a very average-looking woman in her 50s, she was of average height, and wore a pale yellow dress, suit jacket-looking thing, that Bruce couldn’t describe if his life was on the line. Crystal and Alfred hugged as a greeting and when she saw Bruce, her face lit up.
“Bruce Wayne,” she said and walked over to him and gave him a hug. Bruce stood there awkwardly not knowing what to do. She eventually let go of him and looked at him up and down. “Oh how you’ve grown so much since I saw you last,” she said, like something any mother or aunt is contractually obligated to say when not seeing you for a stretch of time. “Now you have to see…where is that girl,” she said looking around. Eventually, she grabbed the arm of a young woman passing by rather quickly and pulled her in so she was facing Bruce.
And oh.
Oh.
She was the most beautiful girl Bruce had ever seen in his life. She was shorter than her mother by a good 4 inches, she wore a tight-fitting dress that hugged her curves nicely, and landed on her thighs. It was white and covered in sparkly stuff…honestly it kind of made her look like a disco ball, but he would never say that. Her hair was a rich red color, and it had soft curls a the end. Her makeup was simple but stunning, her eyeshadow was dark, but it brought out the gorgeous green of her eyes. She was…perfect.
“There she is, Bruce you remember my daughter Leslie don’t you?” Mrs. Watson asked. Oh, shit, THAT’S Leslie, Bruce thought to himself.
“And Leslie, you of course remember Bruce Wayne, right?” she asked her daughter. Holy shit, Leslie thought, He’s a lot hotter than I remember. A moment passed between the two where they simply looked at each other before Leslie spoke up.
“Yes of course, how could I forget a face like Bruce Wayne’s?” she said jokingly, and her mother giggled a little, while she smiled, and Bruce thought he would melt right through the floor. Another awkward moment passed, between them, but Bruce was so infatuated with Leslie that he forgot how it’s not socially acceptable to just stare at someone.
“Right dear, how about you go off and enjoy your party, m’kay?” Mrs. Watson told her daughter with a smile. Leslie smiled back and looked back at Bruce one more time before she left. Bruce felt as if his whole body was on fire and his hands felt tingly, what was happening to him?
“Now if you don’t mind, Mr. Wayne, I’d like to talk to you about something.” Mrs. Watson said, breaking him out of his trance. He simply nodded and she smiled at him.
“And Alfred, you make yourself right at home,” she said, stroking his arm.
“Oh I’m way ahead of you Crystal,” he said, taking a glass of champagne off of a plate that was passing by. It sure was going to be one hell of a night.