The Tea Party
Gordon wrapped his hands around the tiny teacup. He held it this way without thinking—years of patrolling the streets, of standing at crime scenes with cold hands wrapped around a hot coffee cup—had made it second nature. But this teacup, as beautiful as it was—with its swirling pink floral pattern—was empty, and would offer his hands no warmth tonight.
On his left, Babs cleared her throat. Startled from his thoughts, he looked up from his teacup. She was wrapped warm in a puffy jacket with a fur hood, which perfectly framed her face as she frowned at him. She was holding a teacup that was from the same set as Gordon's, only in her small hands it looked to be perfectly in proportion. She held her cup carefully in one hand, her pinky finger sticking out.
To his right, Jimmy. He was humouring his younger sister, holding the teacup in the 'proper' fashion—exaggeratedly, almost mocking. He would rather have an orange soda. Gordon wondered then why Jimmy had been to at least one of Babs' tea parties before, while Gordon had not. And he knew the answer. It was the one word that always complicated things: work.
In front of Gordon, the final guest at Babs' tea party—the Batman. He was sat with his legs crossed like a child rather than a man who was dressed up as a bat and was covered head-to-toe in Kevlar. Behind him the Bat Signal lanced high into the air. He'd arrived with a cut on his chin - bleeding, of course. Babs had sprung into action and handed Batman a pink napkin. It was on the ground now in front of Batman's feet, crumpled into a ball. The blood was already drying, turning brown. Looking at it made Gordon uncomfortable, so he tried not to. Babs had stuck a band aid over the cut at a wonky angle. It was a yellow one with cartoon kittens on it. This, and the fact that Batman was also holding his teacup with the same poise and grace he'd expect from the Queen of England, really undermined how scary his costume looked. The teacup may have been small in Gordon's hand, but in the Batman's it appeared miniscule, like the tiniest twitch of a finger would shatter it into a thousand pieces.
They were all staring at him expectantly.
Gordon smiled weakly, embarrassed despite himself, and adjusted his grip on the cup handle so it was just right. Babs nodded, satisfied. Gordon's pinky just felt cold.
She took a delicate sip of imaginary tea from her cup. Jimmy slurped noisily. Gordon gave Batman a look that he hoped conveyed how sorry he was about all this, but the Batman was already delicately sipping from his little pink teacup. Then he smiled at Babs, complimented her on the wonderful tea, took one of Babs' imaginary homemade cookies to go and promptly jumped off the top of the building.
Gordon just sat there on the picnic blanket on the roof of the MCU, holding a tiny plastic teacup, blinking. So the Batman knows tea party etiquette, he thought. Huh.
THE END
Author's Note: Hi, Batman Fandom! I have finally watched the Dark Knight Trilogy and I loved it!
I was trying to come up with a funny way to undermine Batman's scary costume and came up with a kitten band aid on his chin—but then it hit me! Having grown up with Rachel as his best friend, Bruce has probably been to a few imaginary tea parties in his time. And thus, this fic was born. Thanks for reading! :)