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When Bruce Wayne was little, he didn’t like all the attention he got.
The persons who considered themselves Gotham’s most Elite looked at Bruce like he was a doll. They would randomly hold his arm up like he was an action figure being guided, poke his cheeks and sometimes going as far as pulling his face.
Bruce would make faces, wipe off the kisses women left on his cheek and on one occasion even refused to let one of the older men near him
Martha Wayne was an expert at defusing the tension at these moments, and would play off Bruce’s behaviour as cranky. Sometimes she said he hadn’t napped, or that he’s been out in the sun all day. She would always charm the women, disarming them with flattery, and laugh a little louder at whatever the men said. She also liked to play very, very dumb, so the attention shifted from her young son, to her.
Martha noticed the looks people threw her way, as she made up excuses.
The so-called high society liked to pass rude comments behind her back. Particularly of how she was an “airhead trophy wife” destined to hang off Thomas’s arm for the rest of her life.
Martha acted none the wiser, blinking at the men and women as if what they were saying was truly the most interesting thing. She’s bat her lashes, twirl her hair even, if it meant they would keep spewing out secrets and dish out drama like it was no one business. They didn’t look at Martha as a threat anyway, what could good ol’ Martha even do?
It wasn’t her fault people underestimated her, really. If people chose to ignore her intelligence, no one could place her, for she chose to weapons it. The others were always dumber than they accused Martha of being.
So yes, Martha did notice the looks people threw her way, as she made up excuses.
What they never noticed was how Thomas would suddenly materialize beside her and whisk Bruce away. Sometimes, if Thomas was busy talking to someone important, it was Alfred who’d come to collect Bruce.
They always took the youngest Wayne to the same place, the small kitchenette at the East end of the Manor, far away from the ballroom, and all the noise. Martha would join them as soon as she could.
Moments after Martha look her leave this time, Thomas, Alfred, and Bruce were in the kitchenette. Alfred was standing, three dessert bowls in front of him. Two of them had a single scoop of ice cream. Thomas and Bruce were sharing one bowl. Martha joined as they contemplated a second scoop, which Alfred always refused to indulge in. He did, however, have one scoop ready for Martha.
“Blow them away with tall tales?” Thomas asked, kissing Martha on her cheek. Bruce had scrunched up his face.
“Just the usual amount, I told them I was distracted by a butterfly this time” Martha said, rolling her eyes
“And they believed you?” Bruce asked.
“They always do honey” Martha smiled, digging into her scoop
“Never underestimate the disguise of naivety, Bruce” Thomas said, digging his spoon into Martha’s bowl, “People like to believe they’re the smartest person in every room, letting them believe that is how you can assess how intelligent they really are”
“Yes,” Martha agrees, swatting Thomas’s hand away, “And it can be really fun, once you get the hang of it”
“I don’t see how they actually fall for it, mother. You don’t even sound like… that” Bruce protests, smiling a bit at his parent's childish behaviour. Martha would often speak in an airy voice, tilt her head more, and animatedly move her hands when she played the role of Martha Wayne.
“Well, that’s the trick, isn’t it. If I always sound like ‘Dear ol’ Martha Wayne’ around them,” Martha plasters on her fake smile, and looks through his lashes with doe eyes, “They’ll never know the difference, will they?”
“What do you do, father?” Bruce asks, looking at Thomas. He was trying and had failed at stealing another spoon of ice cream.
“Oh me? Nothing unusual son!” Thomas says, his voice booming. He sounded like he was an old-timey TV presenter, excited about everything that was happening. “I always sound the same!”
Bruce laughed, watching his parents play these characters.
“Why, Tommy dear, aren’t you strong” Martha says, as she bats Thomas’s spoon off with her own. Thomas grins, loopy and wide, “Only because you need me to protect you, dearest” Thomas says, bopping the cold spoon on her nose.
Martha snorts, and shakes her head at her husband. Alfred prepared another bowl of ice cream for Thomas and Bruce, adding another scoop to Martha’s now empty bowl, this time serving himself as well.
As Bruce thanks Alfred for the ice cream, he has an idea. “Mother, can you teach me how to be… dumb?”, and Martha grins. “Well, not that you are dumb, but I like what father said. That I could disguise who I am by being… blissfully naive” Bruce tests the new words out, like it’s a magical phrase that could grant him superpowers.
Bruce looks at them, and Thomas and Martha share an exaggerated look of confusion. Bruce is already grinning, he could see how, to an outsider, this farce was believable. They really committed to the bit.
“Why, should we, Tommy? I don’t know” Martha begins, Thomas has his finger tapping on his chin, “Oh dearest honey, I don’t know either! It’s little Brucie’s decision, is it not?” Thomas’s says, speaking like he was a news presenter, all old-timey again.
Martha turns to face Bruce, her eyes wider, the usual look of innocence and naivety taking over, “Brucie dear, do you really want to learn how to play dumb?” Martha asks, her voice is all high and airy again, and she tilts her head to the side like she’s confused.
Bruce can’t hold back the waterfall of giggles, as his parents continue to behave like children.
“Why! He’s laughing! He’s already got it then, doesn’t he, Tommy dear?” Martha says, clapping in glee and leaning into her husband. Thomas breaks his facade first, letting out an undignified snort at his wife’s antics. Martha looks up, knitting her eyebrows together, “Oh this won’t do!” She says, “I’ll teach him. You go speak your big words to the even bigger men!”
Thomas wraps his arm around Martha’s waist, and ruffles Bruce’s hair with his free hand.
“Eat your ice cream Martha, little Brucie Wayne can till tomorrow for his classes” Thomas says, he looks at his wife with a fond smile. Bruce looks away because when his parents look at each other like that, they tend to get ever grosser and kiss. He was right.
They were quick to finish their ice cream after. Alfred cleared their bowls, handed them napkins to rid the evidence, and straighten out Bruce’s Tux. Thomas left before Martha and Bruce did, off to meet the captain of the GCPD.
Bruce and Martha followed, taking their own sweet time as they walked back to the ballroom. Bruce enjoyed the silence with his mother, she was looking at the wonderful painting Martha had collected in the house. “We should donate some of these to the Gotham Museum. I’ll ask Thomas to talk to the curator” she says to herself.
Bruce knows that few weeks time, these walls would be bare, or replaced with new art. Martha did this a lot.
As the music got closer, and the chatter louder, Martha pulled the thin shawl across her neck again. She didn’t let go of Bruce hand, either, as she told him to watch and learn.
Bruce watches transfixed, as Martha seems to transform in front of his eyes.
“First, you change your posture. That is not an excuse to slouch, because Wayne’s do not have poor posture” she said, drawing her shoulders and arching her back slightly. “Then, you find a voice!” Martha says, already speaking in a higher register. “Higher is usually easier! Sometimes you can pick a tone, change your accent even, like your father does. He sounds so posh!” Martha says, sounding more like Thomas.
“Now, once you have your posture and voice, you decide on your mask” she says. “Do you want to be friendly, welcoming,” Martha grins, “or broody, and closed on” she drops her face into a frown, pouting slightly, “or do you want to seem vacant… not all there?” She asks, slipping on the Mask of Martha.
She then looks at Bruce, fully transformed into Socialite Martha Wayne
“You can be whoever you want to be, dear, all you need to do is choose!” She says, cheerily.
Bruce grins and follows his mother who loudly joins a conversation, as he begins crafting his own new personality for the next event.