Chapter Text
Tim tapped his champagne glass anxiously. He wasn’t technically legal drinking age yet, just shy of nineteen and still due a few growth spurts. He had had alcohol before. Little sips of his mothers wine during dinner parties, his fathers favorite bourbon watered down to a laughable degree. Champagne had to be the worst of the three—but Mrs. Byrne, one of his parents former business partners and owner of the worst set of fake eyelashes he had ever seen, currently had a strong nailed grip on his arm and wasn’t letting go anytime soon. Which meant the offered champagne couldn’t be turned away.
Alfred, bless him, stepped in just as the grip on Tim’s arm was turning from slightly uncomfortable to borderline painful.
“Apologies Mrs. Byrne, I will have to steal away your conversation partner for a moment.” Alfred leaned into Tim’s ear, words that were only meant for him, “Mr. Kent is here, sir.”
Tim felt his body droop with relief, though it was only discernible to the watchful eye, and Mrs. Byrne was way too many glasses in to notice. He politely detangled himself, swaying on his feet with another wave of relief.
“Thanks, Al.” He worked his way to the entrance, pushing through socialites and donors alike. If anything, at the very least, he had this to look forward to.
Kon was in the front hall, somehow both awkward and confident in a way only a teenage boy could be. His earring had been switched out for a gold stud instead of silver, and his shoes added about an inch to his height. Tim was jealous.
“Kon!” Tim smiled as he walked toward his friend, a feeling of relief washing over him.
“Tim!” Conner smiled back widely, seeing his friend. They shared a firm hug, and Tim smelled an unfamiliar cologne, no doubt Martha Kent’s influence, but the other scents, sun and grass and pine, they were all Kon.
“Whaddya think? Don’t I clean up nice?”
Tim laughed as he half twirled. “Oh my God, let’s move somewhere where you won’t embarrass us.”
Kon was caught between admiring the manor as Tim led them down the hall and to a bordered off room, all glowing lights twinkling in the night, and seeing Tim in his own suit. Tim’s shoes had a little platform as well, but it meant nothing to the fact that Conner was taller, platforms or not.
Once inside, Kon became embarrassed. After seeing all of the businessmen and women dressed to the nines, he felt underdressed and out of place.
But Conner Kent, boy of steel, didn’t shrink in their presence. “I’m severely underdressed.”
Tim smiled. “No, you’re not. These people are just overdressed. You look…really good.” Tim cleared his throat as an excuse to stop himself from saying anything else embarrassing. “I’m sorry for dragging you along.” He mumbled.
Kon patted him on the back.
“Nah, it’s fine. Any excuse to hang out with my best friend. Besides, Ma wanted me to check out just how good this gala food actually is.” Tim laughed, this time real and genuine and a little bit too loud.
“Alfred made most of it so I have no doubt it’s great. I would have helped but he wouldn’t let me…” Tim deflated slightly.
“Ma’s the same way! If she doesn’t want me to help her with something, she won’t leave it alone. She’s more stubborn than Clark.”
“Hey, why don’t we raid some of those snacks you were talking about–”
“Tim! Conner!” Tim stops in his tracks, turning rigidly to the sound of the familiar voice.
“Cassie?” Tim swears he didn’t accidentally invite her too, he would have—
Kon is walking towards her, a smile on his face and saying so glad you made it safely. And it finally clicks. Oh no. Oh no. If Cassie is also here, then that means…
And just like that, Bart appears behind Cassie, in a white suit of his own, and it has glitter on it. Cassie is wearing a red glittering suit that is just…utterly ridiculous. Gotham’s elites are going to have a field day come tomorrow morning. And Bruce is going to have Tim’s head above the mantle like a trophy.
“Hey, guys,” Tim grits out, Cassie picks him up and twirls him around as Bart prattles on about how uncomfortable his suit is. He sighs through his nose and counts to ten, something he’s picked up from Bruce, “I didn’t know you guys were coming.”
“What?” Cassie’s face falls. And then three sets of eyes all turn to Kon, who is currently typing away at something on his phone. Most likely sending photos to the group chat.
“What? What’d I do?” Tim ushers the four of them into the bordered off room.
“Kon.”
“Tim.”
“Bruce told me to bring a plus one.”
“Yes.” Kon nods so hard he looks like a bobble head.
“And you were my plus one.”
“Uh-huh. But you said we.”
Now Tim is even more confused. “What?”
“Dude, you said ‘B said we could bring a plus one’ so I assumed that meant we as in, like, the rest of us.”
“So you invited…”
“Cassie.”
“And… she invited Bart.” Tim sighs and presses his head into the cold wall he’s leaning against.
He runs a hand down his face. “And you thought this was a good idea because…..?”
“Um…Sorry?” Conner says, smiling widely. He doesn’t mean it in the slightest.
After a moment Tim lifts his head. “No, no it’s fine. I’m glad that you’re all here—“
“It’s fine, it’s a misunderstanding.” Cassie says, wearing a smile as bright as her suit.
“Sorry,” Tim says, “I’m being rude.”
“Soooo anyways, what’s the plan?” Bart looked up at Tim, a scone in his mouth.
“Okay, first of all, let’s go over some rules. No powers.” Tim holds his stare on Bart long enough that he eats the scone slower than usual. “Second, avoid Bruce at all costs, because there is no way that I—“
Tim feels a cold presence creep up his back and into his scalp.
“What’s this about avoiding Bruce?”
As if tonight couldn’t get any worse. Tim is going to cry. He turns around, facing the man himself. Bruce is wearing his typical gala suit, he doesn’t look angry, just tired and maybe mildly annoyed. This is good, Tim can work with this.
“Um,” is all Tim can say.
“Hello, Mr. Wayne.” Kon sticks out his hand to shake and Bruce takes it, eventually going around the circle. Tim thanks Kon silently for not letting them stew in awkward silence.
“I’m happy to see you here, Conner… and others. How’s Clark?”
Conner makes a face. Batman asking how his friends are doing? Interesting… Maybe it’s a Brucie Wayne policy? “Uh, he’s fine.”
Bruce’s gaze shifts to Tim.
“Tim.” Bruce sighs, but otherwise he doesn’t seem annoyed, more like…amuesd?. “I said a plus one. Not…” Bruce glances over the heads of the other teenagers, as if mentally counting their numbers along with his fading patience, “three.”
Kon clears his throat. “Actually, um, sir, this was kind of my fault.” Cassie hides a terrified smile as she watches in silence. Tim fights the urge to bash his head into one of the freshly polished candelabras—sorry Alfred.
Bruce raises an eyebrow for him to continue. Kon is officially getting the brunt of Bruce’s stare-down. “Me and Tim had a miscommunication. He told me we could bring a plus one, so I assumed you meant all of us could, and well, I asked Bart, and he asked Cassie, so…”
Bruce had the decency to look slightly less stoic when the three gave him varying looks of fear.
“A simple miscommunication, then. I apologize if I was…”
“Intense?” Tim finishes, fixing him with a glare. The knot in his stomach slowly starts to unwind.
Bruce smiles at him, and continues, “well, you know the rules—“
Tim ticks off the rules he can remember on his fingers, before Bruce can continue, “no smoking or drinking in your or Alfred’s vicinity, if injured, report to you, avoid nosy reporters, no swinging from the chandelier… am I missing anything?” If his question is a tad bit sarcastic, Bruce just gives him a weary look, and Tim takes that as their queue to exit.
Kon tugs his arm uselessly as they finally make way for the snack table, “chandeliers?”
“Long story.”
“Dick?”
“Is it never not Dick?”
“Ooh! I want to try!”
“Bart! No!”