Author's Note:
Hej there!
First disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice.
Second disclaimer: I don't own this story either. It's a paraphrased version of "Charity Balls and Threats" (Artemis' POV) and "Of Boredom and Threats" (Dick's POV) by africaflower77, who sadly quitted writing FanFics and deleted all her stories a few days ago but fortunately gave me permission to upload my version anyway. After I read the original, I couldn't stop thinking about how Bruce felt while all this happened but as there were only Artemis' and Dick's POV, I thought I'd never know. After a few days of constantly having it on my mind I started writing out Bruce's POV by myself and this is, what turned out.
There is absolutely no need of knowing the original(s), so don't mind, if you missed reading it/them.
Just have fun and enjoy the mixture of DaddyBats and birdtorture.
If you find any major mistakes in language, text me about them so I can correct them. For English isn't my mothertongue, there are definitely flaws^^
Bruce had always hated these events. Charity balls and galas, they meant utter boredom and endless fake smiling to him. Not to mention being forced to endure the presence and especially the constant talking of all those upper class people, who thought it beneath their dignity to even talk to someone who earned less than a million per year just out of interest on investments. He loathed them, but what choice did he have? It was pretending to be Brucie or risking losing his secret identity, and that, he couldn't have. It was essential to protect this secret at all costs, whether he liked it or not.
Well, at least he didn't mind wearing suits. He was used to it since he was a kid. Other than Dick. His ward always had an air of stiffness to him when forced to wear one and Bruce couldn't help but smile the tiniest little bit when thinking of it. How could anyone be perfectly comfortable in colourful tights and a billowing cape but not in an elegant black suit?
Anyway, he needed to go downstairs now, greeting the guests, all members of Gotham's High Society. The value of dresses, smokings and accessories alone gathered in the Hall of Wayne Manor tonight probably equaled the possessions of all other inhabitants of his city. And he had to pretend he was one of them. Well, never mind. It was business as usual and he was used to it.
He went to Dick's room to get the boy downstairs with him, but stopped at the door. His ward stood in front of the mirror, obviously battling his bow-tie. He seemed to be losing. Bruce couldn't resist chuckling and watched the object of his amusement whipping around to face him.
„Not funny", Dick said angrily and the expression in his eyes accused his guardian of child abuse before he turned his head away.
Bruce stepped in, unable to contain a little smile, walked over to the dresser and knelt before Dick to be on the same height. For a 13-year old the boy really was small!
He started untying the monstrosity the younger one had produced. „Doesn't Alfred help you with these things?" Usually, you could rely on the butler.
„He's busy commanding the food army" came the reply while Bruce started tying the bow-tie again. The way it was supposed to, this time.
„Food army?"
„They're in charge of the food and Alfred is their General, so yeah." Dick explained, still not looking at him. Bruce was amused.
„Well, you're in charge of being a moody teenager, so does that make me the General of moody teenagers?" Obviously he hit the nerve he intented to. Dick turned his head and gazed at Bruce.
„I'm not the one hosting the stupid charity ball and I don't even have to be there, so in my opinion, I have the right to be moody!"
Bruce understood the feelings of the boy perfectly well but that didn't change anything. Dick would have to endure this evening just like himself and he'd live. Plus, they had this argument every other weekend, whenever there was some event to be attended. The outcome never changed. It had become some sort of ritual between them, only the exact words changing every time. He kinda liked it and took some delight from it.
„Maybe", he replied, „but you're still my ward and I'm still your guardian and in my opinion that gives me the right to drag you along if only to make you suffer with me – excuse me, mingle. And by the way, my opinion is what goes." He smirked a little, he couldn't resist, and watched Dick's facial expression become still a little more annoyed.
„Fine", he gave in, „but I'm only mingling for a little while and then I'm heading back up."
„Whatever you say, Dick" said Bruce. He got to his feet again and softly tousled the black hair of his ward, careful not to mess it up. He would take on the Joker anytime, but making Alfred furious was definitely out of question. Turning for the door he said „Come on" and headed out, closely followed by Dick.
They made their way through a couple of corridors, down two flights of stairs and along another corridor side by side, in silence, both preparing for the horrors awaiting them at the ground floor. It was always the same. The majority of the people there were women, mostly single and more than eager to get a grip on Bruce Wayne, the richest man in Gotham City (and probably the surrounding 30 bigger towns). You should think they'd have learned by now. The great Bruce Wayne smiled and did smalltalk, donated and pretended to have a new girlfriend every third day, but he never started something with one of these … women.
They reached the final stairway and went down. The noise got louder with every step, there even were some screams, mostly his name. How could people be so superficial? Looks and money, that was everything that counted in this world of glamour. He would never understand it. And fortunately, there was no need to. He had to play his role, surely, but he didn't have to become the character he impersonated. Sometimes it bothered him that the whole world thought of Bruce Wayne as a carefree playboy and what this image did to the memory of his family but then again … He was Batman, Brucie was just a mask so why care, what people thought of it.
When they reached the last steps, he snapped out of his thoughts and noticed Dick was just as far gone in his mind as he himself had been merely a second ago. He couldn't help teasing him a bit. „Aren't you supposed to be mingling?"
Dick's eyes seemed to clear and he shot Bruce a loathing look. „You might prefer that over being stampeded by the herd coming our way." The older man continued, referring to the people slightly shoving towards them. His ward's eyes grew even colder. Bruce faintly whistled. „It was just a thought. And they will decend upon us in … a couple of seconds." He resisted the urge to count backwards. He didn't want to annoy Dick too much, especially because the boy already seemed to be on edge.
Finally they got to the floor and parted in different directions. Bruce could see Dick immediately being sourounded by some girls, somewhere his age or slightly beneath. Although his well trained eyes allowed him to sense the slight uneasiness in the boy's posture, he could also see with how much self confidence he acted. Bruce could still recall the first time, he had to introduce Dick to society life. The boy had been barely eight years old, shy and scared to death by all those people, either asking him too many questions or talking about him behind his back (but within earshot). About the „charity case", as they called him. As if Bruce had only taken him in because it would look good in the papers. Quite the opposite, he took him inspite of burdening him with public attention by that. He wanted to help that little orphan, last but not least because he felt like they were similar. They shared a history of having watched their parents die far too early and he thought maybe he could assisst him in getting over that trauma. It hadn't been as easy as expected, but at long last, Dick had accepted Bruce as his new caregiver. After months of barely talking, uncomfortable dinners and calling Bruce „Mr. Wayne", the boy had finally opended up to him. By now, nearly five years later, he was almost like a son to him.
The next two hours seemed to last ages. One important person after another came up to him, chatting and smiling, the women waving their hair and showing-off their expensive dresses. The men were slightly more subtle. They all tried to look big and broadened their shoulders before talking to him, but other than that behaved normal. Bruce usually had this effect on people. A bit intimidating but also giving them the feeling, they had to please him. Well, at least, as long as he tried being friendly. When he changed into his costume and walked the rooftops as Batman, no one wanted to talk to him more than absolutely necessary. Even Commissioner Gordon lost a small part of his usual self confidence. And this was just as it was supposed to be.
Sometimes he wished, he didn't have to split his life in two so different parts. That he could mix them up a bit. So that he could tell all these people to get the hell out of here and stop annoying him without falling out of character. Everyone would expect something like that from Batman, but Bruce Wayne? Unthinkable! And so he smiled nicely at Deborah Greene, who stood in her vibrant red dress (was this supposed to be a joke?) right in front of him, asking, how he liked the evening.
„It's just as I planned it to be. Everyone seems to be enjoying himself, don't you think?" he asked her tentatively, giving his voice an undertone of the lightest insecurity. She responded just as he had intended.
„Yes, of course, they are. You're parties are just such perfect entertainment." It was obvious, she tried to kiss ass and he knew it. But Brucie wouldn't, so he said „That's nice of you to say, thank you." With a broad smile. At the same moment, he turned a few degrees away from her and lifted his head a bit. She wouldn't notice what he did exactly but her subconsciousness would recognize his movement as a gesture to end the conversation and hopefully she'd take the hint and leave him. Lucky for him, she wasn't as conceited as most of the other guests so it worked. She smiled once again, said „Oh, that's Marlene over there, I haven't seen her in ages!", winked at him and walked to the other end of the room. He enjoyed the short period of loneliness. Well, if you could call standing in the middle of a crowd being alone. But it was as quiet as it would get for nearly the whole night. It still was only 10.15 pm. Just as he braced himself for the upcoming hours, he heard his name.
„Bruuuuuuuce." Dick dragged his name. He had already waited for the boy to show up and he knew what question would come next. He had his answer ready and Dick wouldn't like it.
„I mingled, just like you asked me to", the boy said, „now can I please, please leave? Pretty please?" His eyes grew bigger with every word. Bruce saw that he tried to look like a pleading puppy, so his mentor wouldn't be able to say no, but this didn't work. Not with him. He smirked.
„Sure." He started counting the seconds until Dick would grasp that it wasn't this easy. At first, the boy's face lit up. He sniffed the air of freedom and already tensed his muscles to walk away when he finally got it. His eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth fell back to their original position. Well, at least the boy had had approximately four seconds of utter and unexpected happiness this evening. But he wasn't letting him go. Not, if Bruce himself had to stay. What was a ward for, if not to endure psychological torture side by side with you?! But he was a fair man, he would give him a choice.
„You'll just have an extra hour or two with Alfred working on your etiquette. Or maybe it should be three hours?" Yeah, alright, this wasn't really a choice. He knew, etiquette-lessons with Alfred were possibly the thing Dick hated most of all. But: He had the choice to leave if he wanted to bad enough. He watched the boy getting even moodier. But Dick knew when he was defeated. Arguing with his guardian never worked, so why try?
„I'll stay" he mumbled and Bruce smiled.
„Good, because if I can't leave, then I'll do everything in my power to make sure you can't either."
„Awesome", came the grumbled response, full of fake enthusiasm. Bruce chuckled softly. He loved the boy, although he'd never said it out loud.
They stood side by side for a while, watching the madding crowd and listening to their own thoughts.
Bruce's were at their last mission together. It hadn't been something special, only a regular patrol. Half through the night they came across a guy who tried to steal a car, it was in one of the less pleasant districts of Gotham City. The man was alone and unarmed so they just snuck up at him from behind and grabbed him. While Bruce contacted the police, he had watched Dick cuffing the man and secure him against the car. The boy was only thirteen and had already fought more criminals (some more dangerous, some less) than most police officers after twenty years of duty. Bruce definitely was proud of what he had become. From a small child living with a circus and doing trapeze acts to a feared and respected hero watching over Gotham's people in only a few years.
All of a sudden, there was something. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but it was definitely wrong. He tensed, set himself upright and got ready to act at a moment's notice. Only the fraction of a second later, he felt Dick doing the same, right beside him. He had barely time to wonder what was happening, when the windows shattered, all at once. They were broken by men jumping through them. They wore identical black clothing and masks covering their whole faces except mouths and eyes. And they all carried guns, semiautomatic.
A/N: Right, so this is where the story really gets started. I hope you liked it so far and that you'll keep reading :-)