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Nothing was more annoying than a night spent holding champagne glasses and smiling. Your arm and wrist hurt, the champagne was getting heavy, and no matter how many times you told your Maitre’ D, you still were not allowed to put it down or do something else.
“The host wants us to carry around the champagne glasses for the next 2 hours so that’s what you’re going to have to do,” Veronica said as she loaded up your tray earlier, the headset in her ear making her flinch as Duncan started swearing loud enough for you to hear from the tiny headpiece. While Veronica scampered off to go take care of that problem, you once again went back out the server’s doors to wander aimlessly around the packed ballroom with the tray of stupid champagne.
Wayne Manor wasn’t the worst place you’ve worked at yet, you mused in your head. Certainly better than the Sionis Estate last year where the head butler there liked to “help” the girls fix their ties by patting down their chest.
Instead, Wayne Manor had Alfred who was no-nonsense and treated them all with respect. Even the girls who had tried to explore earlier and somehow end up in Bruce Wayne’s bed. They had been firmly reminded of boundaries before being sent home for the night and they would probably be fired in the morning. Nothing was worse for a catering company in Gotham than staff that couldn’t respect privacy. Especially with the kind of clientele they sometimes got, you shivered as you remembered having to work a shift at Falcone’s daughter’s sweet 16.
As you picked your way through the crowd, your eyes flickered between the wealthy upper class within and the decor. They twirled around in cocktail dresses and suits as they celebrated a good year of profit for Wayne Enterprises. Everything was colored in blues and creams with tasteful decor lining the walls and classy linens on the tables. It gave the old manor a more modern look for the evening, even if the chandelier in the center and crown molding on the walls gave away the age of the room. You felt almost sad that the Waynes relied on an outside decorator for tonight because the house had clearly not been updated decor-wise since the late Waynes passed away.
As you walked past a table on the edge of the room that held a massive arrangement of flowers, something caught on the edge of your foot and lightly tripped you. Ensuring that the champagne glasses were still upright, you looked down just in time to see a foot disappear under the sky blue tablecloth.
You slowly walked around to the side of the table that was only a few inches away from the wall, making sure nobody was paying attention. Carefully setting your tray down on the table next to the flowers, you crouched and lifted the tablecloth slightly to peek underneath it. Blue eyes stared back at you from the face of Dick Grayson, the new ward of Bruce Wayne. Everyone in Gotham had heard of the tragic story that happened six months ago. Even though you didn’t like to keep up with celebrity gossip, it was hard to miss all the pictures splashed everywhere of Gotham’s newest prince and the tragic backstory that followed him. It seemed like every other conversation you heard tonight was about the poor boy and his “tragic gypsy upbringing”. Currently, the kid was flushed with embarrassment, eyes darting from you to the floor.
“Sorry for tripping you, I didn’t think my foot was sticking out.”
You took a second to take in the scene, a discarded Switch on the floor, and your knowledge of the conversations still happening was the telltale sign of why the boy was hiding under a table on the edge of the ballroom. A split-second decision was all it took for you to slide under the table with him and let the tablecloth flutter down behind you.
“Animal Crossing, huh? I’ve never played, what’s it about?”
The boy's eyes lit up at the thought of a new friend, animatedly explaining to you in excited whispers how to talk and trade with the different characters, holding out the switch to show you everything he was talking about. You nodded and hummed at all the right areas, asking questions so he knew you were listening. While he talked, you made sure to keep an eye on the time, and after 10 minutes or so passed, you knew you had to get back to work before anyone noticed.
“I wish I could keep playing with you, but I have to get back to work. Listen, in about 10 minutes or so, I’ll switch out my tray for one with Apple Cider and try to drop some off over here. Okay?”
Dick nodded, before gripping your hand to stop you as you went to crawl out.
“Could you also, maybe, grab a snack? I didn’t think to grab one before I hid under here,” he had a sheepish grin on his face as he tugged on your hand. You laughed, trying to keep it quiet so no one would realize your hiding spot.
“Sure little duck, I’ll try to sneak something in my pocket for you.”
“I’m not a duck,” he giggled in the way kids do when they think grown-ups are being silly.
“Are you sure? I think I might’ve seen feathers growing under there.”
You reached forward to ruffle his hair and he smacked your hand away, pouting.
“If I’m a duck then you’re a bird,”
Laughing, you came out from under the table and grabbed your tray, heading toward the back as inconspicuously as you could.
“No one wants the Champagne, want me to switch to Apple Cider to see if any of the kids want some?”
Veronica looked over from where she was helping plate a tray of cheese for another server to take, “Yeah, sure might as well. We have four bottles open anyway cause Trevor was an idiot.”
You went over and grabbed one of the open bottles. As you poured the drink into glasses in the corner, you were just close enough to hear Alfred setting up a plate and talking to Duncan, the chef.
“I have no doubt young Master Dick will come out of hiding soon for the food. I can’t fault the boy for hiding, but needs must, I'm afraid.”
Once the plate was full, he set it on the counter before turning away to busy himself with arranging finger sandwiches for another tray. You quickly looked around before grabbing the plate and placing it on the tray behind the glasses of apple cider you poured. Heading out the serving doors, you missed the small smile on the old butler’s face as he finished the arrangement.
You dropped off the plate and on the table as you passed by it, along with two glasses of cider. Knocking on the table to alert the errant child, you got a slightly muffled “thanks Birdie!” as you walked away. This time, the smile on your face wasn’t fake.
Galas weren’t too bad, working at Gotham Estates for your second job meant that you were used to them, and usually the guests were more likely to ignore you than hit on you. Unlike the catering company, guests didn’t think you were for sale just cause you were staff.
This gala happened to be a charity event to help orphans living in the Narrows, and a not-so-little part of you hoped that Bruce Wayne would bring his little charge along.
No sooner than dinner had been served and the dance floor opened, than a small presence could be felt at your elbow as you discarded food into the bowl and placed the plate on your tray to be carried away later.
“Hi, Birdie!” Dick beamed up at you.
“Birdie huh? You know that’s not my name, right, little duck?” You looked down at him, an eyebrow raised as you smiled in amusement.
“Duh,” Dick rolled his eyes, “but if I’m little duck then you have to be Birdie.” He punctuated his statement by crossing his arms and looking up at you with a haughty look on his face he could’ve only gotten from watching his guardian do it.
“Alright, little duck fair is fair. Now, why are you coming to speak to little old me?” You continued your job, grabbing an empty bar glass from another table after the occupant stood to escort his wife to the dance floor.
“Because I’m booooooored,” Dick whined as he trailed after you, staying just on your heels as he went table to table with you to collect empty plates and glasses.
“Bruce is busy talking to business associates, and there’s no one here my age.” He huffed, leaning against the wall next to your tray jack as you shifted the tableware around to carry.
“Alright, then how about a little game?” You racked your head for an idea that allowed you to work while still keeping him entertained before one came to you.
“I go about my work, and you follow me, but you can’t let me catch you following. If I see you, then you have to pay the penalty.”
Dick perked up as you spoke looking at you eagerly, “What’s the penalty?”
“You have to go stand next to your dad and listen to him talk business for 5 minutes.”
Dick looked at you with his blue eyes wide, mouth agape in what could only be horror.
“1 minute.”
“4 minutes.”
“2 minutes.”
“Done.”
You shook hands before you kneeled to put the tray on your shoulders.
“Alright, little duck, time starts now.”
He scampered off as you stood with the heavy tray balanced on your shoulder. As the night progressed, you would hear the giggles and running feet as Dick darted out of your field of vision whenever you turned around. He was only ever caught 3 times, funnily enough. One memorable occasion was him darting behind a thin tree in the garden as you cleared it of bar glasses littered around the sitting areas. You had debated giving him that one but the giggling from behind his hand and the way he peeked at you around the trunk showed he knew you could see him.
Every time, he would whine and plead before going off to find his father and take his punishment. Or at least, you assumed he did, being too busy to make sure he was seeking out his guardian.
The night only came to an end when you saw his dad come up to Dick while he was hiding behind a huge vase in the corner as you carried a heavy tray to the kitchens. Faintly, you could hear Bruce Wayne saying they had to go home. Dick had whined about being in the middle of a game but the doors closed behind you before you could hear the rest of the argument and the two were gone by the time you came back out.
“Why do you work both jobs?”
You put down the fork you were polishing for your side work and stared at the child who was sitting on the counter next to you. As the gala season ramped up, you saw Dick at more and more of the many galas, silent auctions, and other various social events you worked at. He seemed to catch on to the fact that you worked at both Gotham Estates and the catering company and used it to his advantage.
Eventually, he started following you into the back and sitting with you as you did various things in the kitchen. Even though it was a hazard, it wasn’t like the managers could say no the Bruce Wayne’s child. And so your little duckling continued to follow in your shadow.
“Well, I work at an art gallery in their historical artifacts department, but I’m only an unpaid intern, so I have to make money somehow. Hence, two jobs to afford the third.”
Dick looked at the wall opposite of him while you continued polishing the silverware, legs swinging back and forth as he played with the decorative floral garnish you’d handed him earlier
.
“Why doesn't the internship pay you?”
You sighed, putting the forks on the shelf behind you before turning to the knives, “Well, I just got out of college with an art history degree, so in a way, I’m lucky. This will open up doors to careers in the future, hopefully. Besides, it’s not too bad. A Rembrandt is coming into the gallery that I’m absolutely dying to get my hands on. Perfect birthday gift for me to even be in the same room as it.”
Dick stopped playing with the garnish to look at you, his swinging legs stopping. “It’s your birthday?!” He gaped.
“Yup, next week.”
“I have to get you something.”
You put down your rag next to the silverware and pulled him into a hug. It was a little awkward to maneuver, considering he was sitting, but you made it work. “Of course you don’t, little duckling, the best gift you could’ve given me is your presence.”
He nuzzled into your neck, his voice muffled by your collar, “promise?”
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you kissed the top of his head before pulling away to pick up your rag again.
“Promise.”
As you walked into the art gallery a couple of days later, you were surprised by the level of chaos happening in the backroom.
“Thank god you’re here,” your boss came up and grabbed you by the wrist, a frantic look in her eyes and hair slightly out of place like she’d been running her fingers through it obsessively.
“Bruce Wayne just came in and wanted a tour, but all of our usual staff either called out sick or would immediately try and get in his pants. Please, can you take over? I have a call with a buyer about a new piece, and he’ll refuse to do business with us if I’m not on the call.”
You set your tote bag down on your desk (a small thing in the corner that’s more storage than an actual desk) and smoothed down your clothes as butterflies flew in your stomach. Not only is Bruce Wayne handsome as sin but he cuts up little apple slices for Dick to carry in his suit pockets in case he’s hungry at a social event and bought a custom jungle gym just because Dick mentioned he missed doing tricks. Apparently being a good father does things for you cause Bruce Wayne became significantly hotter after that revelation.
As you walked over to greet him, you noticed Bruce was looking at a mosaic in the hallway leading toward the side of the gallery holding the Renaissance artworks.
“You know that specific piece has over 100,000 different pieces of tile and took over 10 years to create.”
He turned to you with a charming smile, taking a second to look you up and down. For most men, it would've been creepy, but for some reason, it felt more like he was analyzing you than admiring your figure. “I was just reading the description next to it, truly a fantastic piece.”
“It’s one of my favorites, imagining the kind of love you would have to have for your work to even dream of doing this is... Incredible to me.”
He stared at you for a second before his smile seemed to turn softer around the edges. He stepped forward a bit and extended his hand, “Bruce Wayne, I have a couple of people meeting me, but they’re running a bit behind.”
“No problem at all, I’m…”
“Birdie!” A small child rammed into your legs at full force as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You would've been taken down if not for Bruce catching you a bit and helping you stand again. You turned at the waist to look back at the harbinger of chaos still attached to you.
“Happy Birthday! Did I surprise you?” he grinned up at you as he practically vibrated with energy.
“Yes, I’m very surprised!” You laughed, looking down at him with a smile.
“I told Bruce I wanted to look at artwork, and I had Alfred help me figure out where you worked so we could come.” He pulled away as he explained, clearly proud of himself for the little white lie he told his guardian.
“Sorry I seem to be missing something, how do you and Dick know each other?”
You felt the heat well up on your cheeks and neck as Bruce stared at you with a scrutinizing look, and any warmth you had gained before seemed to be gone.
“I work as a server when I’m not working here and Dick has run into me at a few occasions looking for something to entertain him. I promise I never intended to seek him out and had no idea he was going to come here.” You willed him to believe you, missing the easy air you had before the small menace arrived.
Dick seemed to pick up on the anxious energy flowing between you and his guardian, “she’s really nice Bruce! I told you all about Birdie, remember? The one who plays games with me at all those boring social things you take me to”
Bruce looked between them and then at Alfred, who stood a few feet away.
“Yes, but I thought Birdie was a friend your age, chum. Although I was a little surprised they were able to keep up with you.” He took a second of deliberation before looking at you, a little of the coldness in his eyes melting. “It’s your birthday?”
The blush came back full force, and you looked at the tips of your toes instead of meeting his piercing gaze. Something about it made it feel like he was seeing into your very being. “Yes, but really, I wasn’t expecting anything. At most, I was going to treat myself to an ice cream on the way home today.”
Dick tugged on Bruce’s hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes that could melt anyone’s heart.
“Can we go get ice cream with her to celebrate? Pleeeeaaassee.”
Bruce once again looked at Alfred, who seemed content to watch, mirth dancing around in his eyes. It was as if that alone melted any lingering reserve Bruce had about you.
With a sigh, Bruce turned to you with a smile, “What do you say? How about we do this tour and then treat you to some lunch?”
You shook your head, “Oh no, Mr. Wayne, I couldn’t possibly put you out like that.”
“Please call me Bruce, and trust me, this wouldn’t put me out at all. Besides, I’d like to get to know the woman my kid seems to be infatuated with, and thank you for entertaining him at those events, I know how much energy he has.” He threw you a smile so endearing that you couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“Alright, but if we’re going to do this tour, then I simply must show you the Medieval tapestry we have in the back. If you loved the mosaic, you’ll love this.”
Bruce held out his arm for you to take, and hesitating only slightly, you slipped your arm through it. Dick took that opportunity to take your other hand in his so you were sandwiched between them. “Oh, I have no doubt I’m going to love this tour very much with you by my side, Birdie.”