A/N: I do not own neither the Batman franchise nor its characters and/or settings. The only thing I own are my OCs and the plot to this story. Everything else belongs to DC.

Mild swearing ahead.

"An assistant?" Sabrina Wilde frowned, her stare made Claire shift a fraction closer to Bruce. "I didn't know you needed the help. Had I been aware, I could have shipped you a supply within the hour."

Bruce had changed when he was forced to be around other people. Though she wasn't a part of the high society lifestyle, she could tell he wasn't either. He may have been born in it, but by looking at his hands and the way he spoke, he was not comfortable to say the very least. "Miss Wright is very good at what she does, so a replacement won't be necessary. She is an intern, after all, not an assistant."

"Really?!" the woman laughed, her eyes betraying the friendly smile that was bordering on disbelief. "Again, had I known there was an opening, I am absolutely certain my niece would have been an amazing intern, she is the perfect candidate. You've met Amber, right? I believe you two were introduced on the trip in Cancun all those years back! You guys hit it off the moment you met."

"I remember, Mrs. Wilde. Your husband was very... active. As great as your niece was, I doubt she would qualify for Miss Wright's position purely because she was accepted based on her own skills rather than having connections within the enterprise."

"Ex-husband." she corrected, successfully changing the suddenly frosty dynamic, taking a sip of the bubbling gold alcohol from her champagne flute. "When was the last time you spoke with her? She's back from overseas. And, very single."

"Ah, as am I." He chuckled, letting the conversation flow precariously, and Claire almost choked on her own glass of sparkling water at the sound. Both Bruce and Sabrina's focus snapped to her and she sheepishly wiped her mouth, "And I'd like to remain on the market for a while longer, if you don't mind."

Claire felt bad for riling the woman's feathers up, but only after she and her tight-lipped smile were all the way across the room.

"Isn't that a little hypocritical?" she asked, scanning the room over the rim of her glass. She found a group of similar looking, tight faced women standing not too far from a bundle of men laughing. From the way the ladies looked, Claire could guess they were married to the obliviously annoying men. Oblivious because the women were obviously unhappy about being there, probably because they didn't like most of the people they were forced to socialize with. Annoying, because they were loud and testing the waters with one of the female servers.

"What is?" Bruce hummed, following her line of sight. Claire frowned up at him and blew strands of her straightened hair from her face. She wasn't fooled by how lax he seemed, and even if she'd only known him officially for a month, she could tell from long nights with him that his shoulders weren't that loose.

"Saying that I didn't have connections." she clarified, irritability batting at the hair in her eyes, not caring if she managed to mess up her new makeover. The night was halfway over anyway.

She inched closer, lowering her voice, "The only reason I managed to even be here is because Wonder Woman insisted I be by your side. That, my friend, is a connection. And, a solid one at that if I might add." Claire's not-so obvious discretion drew a few eyes, but she doubted anyone could hear her besides Bruce and was fine with letting people's imagination wander and took a step away.

Bruce only grinned, and for a minute it looked much more genuine than the weird, overly flirtatious grins he'd been throwing around so loosely at the event, "Under different circumstances, it is perfectly acceptable. Your circumstance is one of those. Amber's, if I can recall correctly, is one that is privileged and money-driven. Our relationship aside, had we met in different situations, I believe you still would have qualified and won. Neither the letters of recommendation nor your grades were overlooked in selecting our final choice."

Her mouth twitched, fighting the surge of satisfaction wiggling through her. "Well," she paused, drumming her fingers along the glass before ducking her head in a stiff bow, "Thank you, Mr. Wayne for picking me."
He shrugged and wordlessly finished off the rest of his sparkling cider. She watched curiously as the tall man scanned the room for a server carrying a bottle of non-alcoholic drink he'd been inconspicuously sipping from. Claire, despite her sudden display of manners, snatched the flute from his hands knowing he couldn't escape socializing as Bruce Wayne properly without faking his intoxication. Seeing as this was her fourth time attending one of these events, she made sure Bruce's drink was never empty and by chance it was, it wouldn't be for long. "I'll be back with another drink, so try to avoid people! Be polite and excuse yourself by eyeing a pretty girl."
She said loudly, already heading to one of the large buffet tables adjacent to them.

Her brown eyes were trained on the table making no attempt to slow down when the occasional person tried to stop her. By now, she knew that most of them were either bored, drunk, or half way there from her other golden opportunities to shadow Bruce on behalf of the absence of his sons plus, as an intern, she was obligated to be where he wanted her. At first she was eager for these things. Eager to see how the other half lived and wasn't disappointed with the fancy halls or even the fancy people that occupied them. Of course, the extravagant decor became to grow duller and duller as she was forced to be around such negative, pampered people and learned to drown out most of the night by sticking by Bruce's side, letting him do all of the talking. Of course, the number of times she had to actually speak were barely enough for her to count on a single hand, and she doubted what she had to say was considered relevant to them. Being polite for the public was an obligation to them and once the niceties were out of the way, people didn't bother to care anymore if they had before. So, she kept to herself and was convincingly playing the role of the timid, unsure of herself intern just trying to get through the night.

Securing the bottle for Bruce, she poured him a glass, and hesitantly eyed the bottle —debating whether or not she should take the whole thing so she wouldn't have to make another trip and risk Bruce not being Bruce— before rigidly turning on her high heels, weaving through the sea of people without the bottle.
Claire wasn't sure what she was considered in the terms of height. She wasn't tall and she couldn't be considered short either, but she was used to being able to maneuver through crowds with the help of shoulder windows. However, her awkward height advantage was no use in finding Bruce, who'd left the spot she'd last seen him in or he had probably been dragged to somewhere else. Making her night a little harder than what she wanted.

She stood on her tiptoes, hoping to spot the man, but she wobbled and immediately rethought that plan of attack. If Claire couldn't see him, she could sure as heck smell him. A room full of people that either smelled the same or close enough to each other helped eliminate his smell because she was sure no one could emulate the distinct —distinct for her, considering she'd been caught in the middle of both on more than one occasion— smell of gunpowder and the smoke pellets Batman was known to use if you ever encountered him and something else that she couldn't explain. With the amount of fire she'd been under with Batman and the others in her short time of working with them, maybe the gunpowder was a new thing for him.

"Excuse me, Miss." she flinched at the hand waving in her face, forcing her from her thoughts and she directed her focus onto the overly smiley man, who'd gotten in her way.

"Yes?" she smiled tightly, attempting to look over the man's shoulder for Bruce, still nowhere to be seen. Sighing, she shifted her gaze back to the man in front of her. "Can I help you? My drink is losing its bubble."

"Really? I'm sorry! Did I scare you, I'm a little drunk." He snorted, and for the second time that night she felt the need to shift away from someone out of discomfort but now Bruce and Sabrina weren't anywhere to be seen. "Ah! I'm not that drunk." He frowned, apparently noticing her discomfort. "I just wanted to come over and tell you that you are wearing a beautiful dress and that that color complements you. What is that— maroon?"

"Yeah." her grip on the flute relaxed an inch. "My friend picked it out for me tonight, I agree. It is a really beautiful dress, gorgeous if you ask me. But, it's a bit... leggy for my taste." she chuckled, pointing to the slit along the front of her right leg, stopping just beneath the pair of shorts she snuck under her dress.

"No one minds if you show a little skin." His eyes followed the slit and trailed upwards slowly, not bother to stop his obvious leering until she cleared her throat extra loud.

And off she was to go find Bruce.

"It's cold out. So, I mind." she frowned, fighting the urge to throw Bruce's drink in the man's face, but opted not to because she would have to make a third trip back to the table. "I'm here to shadow my boss, so if you'll excuse me." Without another moment to spare, Claire pushed past him into the other direction, ignoring his offer to join him later on.

She mowed through the other side with as much luck as she had before, and even went back between the sides and doubled checked thinking she'd passed Bruce twice.

"Claire!" the man chirped with his arms opened wide for a hug but she just stared at him.

"Bruce? Where have you been?" she glared, handing him the drink, completely forgetting where she was. "I was gone for like a second and you become Batman and vanish into thin freaking air."

Bruce laughed and threw back the drink, quickly placing the empty flute on the tray of a passing server," Miss Wright, may I have this dance?"

"What? Are you drunk?" she whispered, her eyes doubling in size. "Oh my God, who got you drunk? You literally never drink!"

Bruce took her hand and pulled her to a more docile area where couples danced in slow, lulling circles to soft music. They blended well within the modest dance, modest being something the public rarely saw Bruce being. His hands were in a respectful position, one pressed lightly to her waist and the other tucked into her own sweating hands. Her other arm hung awkwardly at her side, unsure if she was supposed to put it on his shoulders. Bruce, sensing her confusion, reached down and guided it to his side and they began to move. He was being gentle rather than the frisky which meant he wasn't drunk and hadn't forgot about her and too much physical contact, but her hand was still balled against his tuxedo jacket.

"I was busy in the bathroom–"

"Ew!" she hissed, stepping closer as another couple rotated near them. "I did not need to know that." She felt his hand squeeze hers, most likely hinting for her to shut up and listen.

"Whatever you think was happening in there didn't." He frowned down at her, forcing her to notice how much taller he was. In her heels, she reached the neck of his bow tie. They gave her a good three almost four inches, but he beat her with him being another head taller. He pulled her in closer, forcing her nose into his chest with his head to her neck. "I got a lead."

"In the bathroom?" she questioned, turning her head to the side. Claire doubted he could see her confusion but her tone said it all. "You're too close, by the way. People are going to start talking."

"Let them talk." He murmured, "Besides, I'm drunk, remember?"

"You're dancing too well for that. Maybe lose the technique and step on my foot or something." she snorted, resting her hand flat against his back. "Bump into someone."

"I will once he leaves."

"Who?"

"Don't turn your head. Keep dancing and wait until we turn." Claire nodded into his chest. And slowly, they rotated. "The server with the red." he whispered, his grip loosened as they began to drag behind, setting their own pace against the slow music.

"That guy is a dealer?" she peeped, glancing up at him with a frown.

"I heard him speaking about it." Bruce answered, neither confirming nor denying it. "He knows something about this though."

Claire watched as he disappeared behinds Bruce's shoulder, "He looks like he's leaving."

"Then we should be too."

A/N: Hey, I'm hoping people enjoyed this first chapter. I love long chapters, but I can't write them for the life of me. Anyways, I have high hopes for this fic and I really need people to tell me what they like, what they don't like, and how you think I should fix it. I like suggestions. Also, I don't have a beta reader, so please expect some mistakes because I'm human too and can't catching every error.

I'm a bit nervous about people saying Bruce is OCC and I can't help but feel like he is. My idea of Bruce is awkward in the sense that as Batman, he is mostly all business but still has some of that spunk from his younger days when I write him as Bruce Wayne. My main goal for Bruce is seeing him as both of those two personalities on both occasions, but also remembering that he's human. I think Bruce Wayne wants to be labeled more than just a rich, flirtatious asshole who occasionally shows Gotham that he isn't so bad. I think Batman isn't as invincible and cold as he's made out to be as I've seen in other works. I want emphasis the connections he has with people he's known and will eventually get to know. I want to put him in different situations, so we can see how both Bruce and Batman react.

The character interactions are weird right now because I just jumped right in, but let's have our fingers crossed that it gets better. Well, until next time!

Please R&R!

Question of the chapter: Should Damian make an appearance? If so, do you think he'd get along with Claire from what you've seen from her?