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Dick
Dick technically hadn't been invited to the gala, but he heard Bruce was coming with Jason, and though Dick wasn't the biggest fan of the kid, he felt obligated to provide some guidance if this was Jason's first gala.
Galas always brought in lots of people with high status that thought they were above everyone else. They were stuffy and boring and Dick always left with someone's rude comment floating in the back of his mind.
He didn't want that for Jason. Bruce, bless his heart, was very attentive during these events, but he had never seen how some of these people treated Dick when he wasn’t there.
So here he was, dressed up in a tuxedo and in the type of environment he thought he'd escaped when he moved out.
He'd give the kid some quick words of advice and be on his way. That was all.
"Dick?" Jason said, breaking into a confused smile upon seeing Dick walk up to him and Bruce.
"Dick," Bruce said, also surprised but pleased. "What brings you here? Willingly?"
“I was thinking Stockholm syndrome,” Dick said, then chuckled and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "No, uh, I heard Jason was coming with you and thought I'd accompany the unwilling attendee for his first gala. Because you remember just how lovely those are, don’t you, Bruce?”
“Jason hasn’t had any complaints yet,” Bruce said, looking at the younger boy with a twinge of amusement. “Plus, he’s actually not here unwillingly, believe it or not.”
Jason crossed his arms and shrugged. “I came for the promised tiramisu and the tiramisu only. Which is nowhere to be seen, by the way.”
Dick grinned. “Oh, Bruce lured you with that, eh? I can’t lie—It’s pretty dang good in these parts of Gotham.”
“Alright, alright,” Bruce said. “Let me see if they’ve finished making it by now.” He walked off, leaving Dick with Jason.
Jason uncrossed his arms and absentmindedly scratched his neck while he looked up with Dick with imploring eyes. “So . . . Did you really come here for me or was that a cover up?”
“Cover up?” Dick repeated, making a face. “Yeah, right. I’m here for you, pal.” His face became more somber. “Look, Jay. I just wanted to say that you’re probably going to grow to hate these events. Some people can be very unwelcoming. But I have a few tips—“
He was interrupted by the sound of a woman saying, “Richard! Oh, how lovely it is to see you!”
Dick turned and was greeted with a woman he was unfortunately familiar with. Patricia. Lovely.
“Good evening, Patricia,” Dick said, hardly putting any effort in his tone of voice or smile.
Patricia made a face with what he assumed was supposed to be joy. It was hard to tell with all the botox and plastic surgery that was poorly masking her true age. “And who is this cutie patootie right here? No, don’t tell me? Todd? The street boy?”
Jason gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Hi.”
“Why,” the woman paused, glancing between the two boys, “you two could really be brothers! Bruce sure has a preference for his kids, doesn’t he?”
“Uh,” the thirteen-year-old uttered.
“And what’s the deal with you being from the circus,” Patricia said, gesturing towards Dick and then Jason, “and you being from the streets? He doesn’t like normal children?” She cackled like she had just told the most hilarious joke. “Oh, Bruce, just loves excitement in his life, I’m sure. But not too much, I hope. You haven’t been messing with drugs, right, dear? Those only lead you back to the streets . . .”
Dick was already biting on his cheek viciously to avoid saying something that would cause a scene, but seeing the uncomfortable expression in Jason’s face made his anger increase tenfold. Looking at Jason right now felt like looking in a mirror of the past. Dick remembered all the classist, racist things he had been told, just to suck it up, because he didn’t want to ruin the night. Or even because he thought it was normal. But Dick was an adult now who knew better and wasn’t afraid to stand up for himself and others. He owed it not just to Jason, but himself, to say something.
“Patricia,” Dick said sharply, cutting off the woman’s rambling. “I don’t appreciate the way you’re talking to us. And don’t play dumb. You know very well what you’re doing.”
Patricia gaped at him and sheepishly whipped her head around to see if anyone had witnessed her moment of embarrassment. Dick didn’t wait for a response. He grabbed Jason’s hand and pulled him away with him as he stormed off.
When they stopped at another part of the building, Jason gently put his hand on Dick’s. “You’re shaking,” he said quietly.
Dick let out a small chuckle that sounded more like a loud exhale. “Yeah. Guess I am. It’s no big deal, really. I just . . . I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. And now I actually did it.”
Jason smiled softly, his eyes full of understanding. “Well, I’m proud of you. And thank you.”
Jason
When the biggest gala of the year was announced, Jason knew that the new Robin, Tim Drake would attend it with Bruce. Jason wasn’t close with Bruce or Dick anymore, and he was pretty sure he hated Tim’s guts, but Jason felt weirdly compelled to watch outside the event. Out of nosiness or to spot danger, he didn’t know. He knew from personal experience that galas of this size could get messy real quick.
Perched on top of a building in his Red Hood suit with a pair of binoculars in his hands, he spied through the windows and doors of the gala.
He’d be lying if he said his eyes hadn’t been on Tim Drake most of the time.
That’s why he noticed when the kid started walking strangely shortly after having a drink and started being led away by a suspicious looking man.
Jason cursed under his breath. He looked outside the building and found a van waiting for little Timmy.
Great. Once a Robin always a Robin, Jason thought, cursing his heroic instincts for putting him in this situation in the first place. Why did he have to spy on Bruce’s new kid?
Putting down his binoculars and replacing it with a gun, he headed towards the van, thinking one thing.
He hated galas.
Tim
Tim had to admit that he thought Damian would have more trouble behaving at his first gala. But Damian was doing great, and now Tim felt like he had come for no reason.
That was until they found only one slice of the tiramisu left on the platter.
“Heathens,” Damian grumbled. “So, what, we have to split it?”
“Guess so,” Tim said. Then, he thought on it. “Well, actually, since I’m extremely generous and this is your first gala, you can have it.”
Damian gave Tim an unimpressed look. “I’m not in need of charity, Drake. We split it.”
“. . .Well, this is awkward,” a voice said. Tim and Damian looked at the source of the voice: a boy around Damian’s age.
Tim raised his brows. “Oh, do you want a piece?”
The boy put a hand on his hip. “Um, actually, I was thinking I should have the whole thing, ‘cause I’m the youngest.”
Tim shared a glance with Damian. This couldn’t end well.
“What’s your name?” Damian asked the boy.
“Tom,” the kid answered.
“Alright, Tom ,” Damian said, taking a step closer towards Tom. “I will tell you this, because clearly no one else has. In the real world, your age grants you nothing. If you want something, you must seize it. We were here first, so if you want this slice of cake, you’ll have to take it from me. Do you propose a duel?”
Tom blanched. “W-what—?”
“ Damian ,” Tim admonished, then looked at Tom with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, he gets a little, uh, competitive sometimes. Of course you can have—“
“Giant baby,” Damian muttered under his breath.
“You—you jerk! ” Tom squealed before launching himself at Damian with the fury of a bull. The two boys slammed against the table and the entire thing, with all the food, including the tiramisu, came crashing down with a deafening crack.
“Guys!” Tim shouted, his hands in his hair as Damian and Tom continued to fight amongst the broken glass and food. He looked around and found everyone staring and gasping while a few phones were being lifting into the air to record.
Tim did not sign up for this.
“Nope! Nope! Sorry, Bruce, but he’s your son not mine. You’re on your own with this one!” Tim said before walking off, the sound of food being thrown starting behind him.
Bruce
“Do you think that I should stop bringing you guys with me to galas?” Bruce asked the family once he had them in the same room. “I’m starting to think you guys genuinely don’t like them.”
His kids stared at him incredulously.
“You think? ” Tim said.
Bruce nodded, scratching his nose. “Yeah, okay. No more galas.”
Cassandra and Stephanie high-fived and Duke sighed a breath of relief.
“Oh, c’mon,” Dick sighed. “No fair. It’s like a rite of passage.”
Jason patted his shoulder. “It’s the end of an era. An era of suffering, but an era nonetheless.”
“Don’t worry,” Duke said, smirking. “Damian is still trending for his food fight. The memes are great.”
Bruce watched as everyone gathered around the phone. Damian muttered something like, “I did you all a favor,” and Bruce shook his head, smiling.
Little did they know that he only spared them all because they have all been banned from galas. Including Bruce.
And he was so grateful for it. He hated those things, too.