Welcome! So, this is Dick's seventeenth birthday party. The whole thing; it's an ordeal (for the characters). Hope you enjoy!

Warnings this chapter for: implications of familial abuse.

I fidget in my seat, adjusting the seat belt crossed over my chest. At least until Selina's hand snaps out and slaps my fingers away from it, even as she smiles at me. I make a face at her, trying to convey that I don't appreciate her more physical reminder to calm down, and she raises her hand to brush some of my bangs away from my face. I don't need her to actually speak to understand the message, and I roll my eyes and sigh. I do drop my hands back down to my lap though.

The driver in the front — I can see black hair underneath his hat, but nothing more — makes a turn, and I glance out the window to see the winding gravel driveway of Wayne manor. It goes quite a ways up though, so I lean back into the seat but also towards the window, to see how soon I can catch a glimpse of the house before we actually get there. Selina pats my head once, partially in reprimand if I know her, but then pulls away from me.

I just want some hint of what I'm getting myself into before I'm actually waist deep in it.

Dick invited me to his birthday party. As of today, he's seventeen. The age gap feels massive right now, but I know not all of that is just because of his birthday. I tried to…

A little over a month ago, I tried to see if Dick was at all interested in me. Because fuck, but he's nice, he's fun to be around, he's good looking, and even if he can be kind of shallow and rich-boy sometimes, he's not nearly as bad as I used to think he was. He doesn't tend to show it, especially not in public or around other people, but he cares. Carefree, yes. Shallow, not usually. Plus, since that very first day that we met — over half a year now, damn — he's stepped in to protect me and never stopped. Every time bullies even come near me he's stepping in between us with that easy smile and all that power and privilege that being Bruce Wayne's ward gives him.

It was a stupid, crazy, thought, but I like Dick, and I just wanted to see if maybe he was even remotely interested too. No, as it turns out. Maybe he's not as straight as he seems, or maybe I just have bad luck and I happen to be crushing on not only my best — only — friend, but also probably the straightest person I really know. Maybe I'm just that crazy.

And it's not… Yeah, I definitely am crazy, because it's not the kind of crazy attraction that I've got towards Robin. Robin who kicks my ass on a weekly basis, leaves me with bruises and a limp I can usually only barely hide, but he's still so pretty that I can't help thinking about him. I don't know exactly what it says about me that the most common repeat guest in my private fantasies is Robin, and not say, the two hot, bisexual women that I get to see flirt and kiss every month, usually in the chair right next to me, but it can't be good. Or maybe it's just something about that Robin is so pretty, and him I actually get to touch. Or try to, anyway. He's always the one pinning me down, and I don't think he's actually noticed so far — thank god — but fuck if I don't come out of some of those pins flushed and breathing harder than I should.

Selina thinks it's very amusing. I think she's being mean, and whenever she brings it up I make sure to point out how she ends up after 'grappling' with Batman.

So it's weird. I like Dick, I think he's pretty great, but then there's Robin. Robin, with his curls of black hair, his grace, all that muscle. Fuck, but I think I might know just a tiny bit of what Selina's thinking now when it comes to Batman. Maybe reversed though, because I'm not crazy enough to think that anything can actually happen with Robin. He's nice enough when we're not actively fighting, and his smiles are… Anyway, he's pretty cool, but he's Robin and I'm a thief. It's not going to happen. I just can't stop myself from reacting because he's so damn pretty and I am so at the mercy of my hormones. I can't decide if it's thrilling or just really frustrating, but I know I spend way too much time jacking off in the shower, or when I'm supposed to be sleeping.

Most of the time, to thoughts of a domino mask and the flash of teeth in a smile. To the feeling of hands twisting my wrists behind my back and the press of legs around my hips or between my legs. God damn that pins require so much physical contact.

I squirm again, trying to push away thoughts of Robin because this is not the place for him.

This is Dick's party, and maybe I'm not sure if I'm going to be completely bored out of my mind like that gala or if I can stick close to Dick's side and maybe actually enjoy myself, but it still deserves my attention. Robin might be attractive, but Dick is my friend and that does not come secondary to my stupid fantasies. My stupid fantasies that are never going to happen. Dick might. It's not real likely, especially not with how straight he's seemed, but there's still an edge of hope in there.

Maybe I'll just watch and wait for a while, try and ferret out if Dick is actually straight or if he might have any kind of a leaning towards guys. I'm not crazy when it comes to this though; he's seventeen. I'm fourteen, and even if he were interested it would be a little weird and more than a little creepy right now. Two and a half years really isn't that much, but it's too much right now. He'll be eighteen when I'm still fifteen, and that's not a risk I should take.

Nevermind the actual legal problems with it, especially if the media actually gets ahold of the information, but I know he still sees me as a kid. It's stupid, but maybe if I wait until I'm actually eighteen he'll see that I'm more than that. God, waiting that long feels like forever right now.

No matter what, I need to not say anything until I've found out who he's attracted to. I'm not going to set myself up for another oblivious, painful rejection. If Dick is straight, that's where it needs to end. That's all I need to know.

I mean, it's not likely, right? Aren't most people at least a little bit bisexual? Or is that just Selina and me being lucky?

Wayne manor comes into view — finally — and I raise my head up an inch or so. All these nerves be damned, I'm still a little excited to be here. I'm always happy to be around Dick.

Selina's fingers brush my shoulder through the semi-formal clothing I'm wearing — almost exactly the same thing as last time, but a dark red t-shirt this time — and I turn my head to look at her. A touch to the neck or my hair is just her version of comforting, but my shoulder usually means she wants my attention.

She has a small, knowing smile on her face, and I tilt my head to give her room as she leans in to speak in my ear. "No games like last time, alright, kitten? Promise me."

I roll my eyes. "Alright," I grudgingly agree. "I promise."

She's totally overreacting. No one even noticed their things had been taken, and everyone got them back before they left. It was completely smooth, and harmless. Not once did I even get close to being caught. I get why she didn't want me to keep the stuff — people were way more likely to notice it missing at the end of the night — but not taking it at all? What else am I supposed to do if this is as boring as the last time?

Maybe I'll just go exploring or something; manor's pretty damn big and I think I've only seen a fraction of it. There's gotta be something interesting in there somewhere, right? With a house that big there has to be something interesting; at least books or something.

"Thank you," Selina says in a whisper, and then she's pulling away from me as we pull up to the front of the manor. I pop my seatbelt off, and almost get to the door handle before she catches my wrist and breathes, "Wait."

I fidget, but make myself sit still until the driver has come around the side of the car and is opening the door for us. That part still grates at me, since I'm totally capable of opening a door by myself, but Selina insists that it's part of the rich kid image. Expect people to serve you and they'll assume that you're famous enough to serve.

Everything about it just rubs me the wrong way.

Selina slips out behind me, flashes a smile at the driver, and then slides her arm around my shoulders and steers me towards the manor. I barely resist rolling my eyes again, because thank you I don't need to be guided anymore. I've probably been to the manor more times in the last few months than she has. Granted she usually doesn't tell me where she slips off to as Selina — and I don't want to know — whereas she insists I tell her whenever I leave. I get that. She seems to trust Dick enough to let us be around each other without supervision, even though I do catch her giving him looks occasionally. Warning ones, as far as I can tell.

The front door is wide open, and it takes me until we're about halfway up the stairs to realize that if I can hear the music from here — and it's something with a bass beat, not the classical stuff from last time — it must be fairly loud. It doesn't seem to phase Selina, and she's not letting me slow down any, so it must be something that she expected.

The music definitely is fairly loud once we're inside. Not as loud as I know clubs are — never been in one, but I slipped by enough of them near Crime Alley — but loud enough that it's a focus point, not background. Okay, so maybe I misjudged. I don't think this is a Wayne party, I think this is Dick's party. Okay; gala versus party. Slight word difference, big actual differences?

It's in the same ballroom as before, but oh yeah, way different decoration. There are the same buffet tables, but there's also a bar set up with three different bartenders, the lights are a little dimmed, and there are a lot more people over by the dance floor. It's more crowded than before too, and the general age of people seems to be younger, although not actually mostly Dick's age. More like, thirties to forties, as opposed to last time where it seemed to be scaled more towards forties or above.

I get about four seconds to take that in before Selina squeezes my shoulder, leans down to say, "Dick is over there," with a sweep of her hand, and then promptly steps away from me and strides off. It doesn't take me more than a fraction of a second to track her direction to the straight, tall, laughing figure of Bruce Wayne.

Figures.

I turn the direction that Selina waved me, and yeah, I can see Dick. He's tall and laughing too, surrounded by a circle of people that's predominantly women and mostly at least twice his age.

I swallow, force away my nerves, and head that direction. A lot slower than Selina headed towards Bruce, because I'm not sure what I'm stepping into and I'm not sure I actually want to be there. On the one hand Dick is there, but on the other hand I still don't like crowds, and I don't like these people either. I'm not sure him being there is enough to cancel out how much I don't like the rest of them.

I realize before I get there that there's one really obvious theme to the way they're talking to him. Flirting. Smiles, laughs, some of the same expressions that I've seen Selina use combined with all kinds of inviting body language. It's… It's a little gross, honestly. He's seventeen. I mean, that's legal in some states but not here, and they're pretty old for him. Even if he mostly looks like he's grown into being an adult, even I can see that he hasn't lost all of that younger roundness to his cheeks or the ease to his smile. He's not legal.

I hover at the edge of the crowd for a moment, unsure how to actually get in there, but then he spots me. He smiles, warm and I can tell that one's real, and pushes forward between the crowd. They part like he's some kind of performer, and I only have time for one deep breath before he's pulling me into a one-armed hug and dragging me in against his side.

"Jason!" he exclaims, and my stomach drops a little bit.

This close I can feel the heat to his body, and more importantly I can see the slight flush to his cheeks and the way his eyes are a little bit lidded. I track from that to the glass in his other hand, filled with something dark mixed with a couple of ice cubes. Definitely alcoholic. I have enough experience with drunk people to see the signs of them being tipsy, and mostly I learned to avoid them because people are rarely fun to be around when they're drunk. I have a couple scars that can prove that.

I don't want Dick to be one of those people.

"Glad you could make it, Jay," he says, and gradually I realize the crowd has reformed around us and I'm really trapped here. Caught against Dick's side and with women all around.

"Wouldn't miss it," I force myself to say, against all the nerves building in my stomach. I shove away the thought that I should get away from Dick before 'tipsy' turns to 'drunk' and he gets mean, and then the uneasiness from being trapped in a crowd of people I don't know. I can handle it. Not everyone gets mean when they're drunk, and Dick's never been anything but nice to me. Even if he does get mean, he can't really do anything in public.

Probably.

Dick's smile is blindingly bright, and his grip around my shoulders is tighter than I'd like, but his attention is turning back to the women around us. They're infatuated with him, it's easy to see, and it's also easy to see that he likes the attention. He's throwing flirtatious comments around like they're nothing, smiling and laughing at every even slightly funny comment made back at him. It's honestly difficult to watch, and I don't like it. I'm just not sure how much is the alcohol, or how much of it might be that I don't really know Dick, not when he's around other people anyway. Is this normal, or is it compensating?

Dick's still having problems with Bruce, so maybe this is just a way for him to cut loose? You're pretty much allowed to do whatever you want on your birthday, or at least you should be. Maybe he's letting go while no one can judge him for it.

I last about until Dick's drink is finished, and one of the women offers to grab him another. He agrees, but then he's looking down at me and adding on, "And grab something for Jason too!" I freeze up for a second, as he smiles down at me. "Share a drink with me, Jay?"

I force myself to breathe, to smile back and then pull a little bit away. "I'll go pick something out," I lie through my teeth, ducking out from underneath his arm. He doesn't stop me, but I don't know if that's because he's accepting my lie or because the alcohol has slowed him down too much.

Either way I don't press my luck. I'm small enough that getting out of the crowd isn't that hard, but it puts me a lot closer to a lot of people than I wanted to be. I almost don't dare to breathe again until I'm in a clearer area, and the stench of perfume doesn't stick in my nose every time I even think of inhaling. I do head towards the other side of the room, but for the food, not the drinks. I had a few tastes of alcohol while I was in Crime Alley, and it's not my thing. Not here, anyway. Too dangerous to not be in control of myself.

I get to the buffet table, and I get about two seconds of relative peace before there's a woman appearing at my right and looking at me, not the food. She smiles, and there's an edge to it that feels dangerous. She's younger, maybe early twenties, but the way those brown eyes are looking at me is a bit like Selina looks at expensive things with no real security.

"It's Jason Kyle, right?" she says, turning to face me. I really don't miss that emphasis on my new last name.

"Oh, Melissa," breaks in a different female voice, and I can't help my jerk when a hand touches my shoulder and squeezes hard for a second. I pull sharply away, whirling. It's an older woman — maybe forty-five or so — but she's got that same edged smile that the younger woman does. "The boy's just looking to get a bite of food; let him. We all know who he is."

I swallow, duck my head in something like a nod and try to slip around the older woman. But then her arm is in my way, and I have to snap myself back to avoid colliding with her as she reaches past me.

"Let me." That arm retracts with a plate in it, but before I can move away she's pressing it towards my chest, and I don't have much choice but to take it. "Jason," she starts, taking my shoulder again like we're old friends, "have you met my daughter, Melissa?"

"I have now," comes out of my mouth before I can think about it, as my fingers curl around the edges of the plate that's been shoved into my hands.

That gets a laugh out of them both, and I'm not blind to the way that they're moving to box me in against the buffet table but there's not much I can do about it without breaking cover either. Punching one of them or sliding underneath would probably not go over real well. I'm kind of painfully stuck here, and I really don't like that grip on my shoulder but there's not much I can do about that either. What the fuck happened to common decency? You don't just grab someone you don't know, not for any good reason anyway. You definitely don't keep touching them.

The daughter smiles a little more intently at me, tilting her head a bit so the curtain of ash blonde hair falls to one side of her neck. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jay." I just stare at her for a second, that nickname sounding foreign and wrong in her voice and raising all of my hackles.

But then the mother is letting go of my shoulder to ruffle my hair instead, with a comment of, "Oh, you don't have to be so formal, 'Lissa." I duck away from her hand, but like some kind of strangling snake it's suddenly back on my shoulder and holding me still. "That's probably uncomfortable for little Jay; he's still new, remember?"

No. People I don't know are not allowed to call me that. "It's Jason," I stress, holding myself perfectly still because I think I might chuck the plate in my hands at her if I try moving anything else. I swallow down the anger, and force myself to calmly, and politely ask, "Would you please take your hand off me?"

The mother looks a little offended, but she does let go of me even if it's with a huff of breath I can only barely hear over the music. "Well, there's no need to be rude, young man. I was only trying to be friendly."

I wonder how much trouble I'd be in if I vaulted the buffet table to get away from these two.

"I don't know you," I try, glancing sideways towards the daughter as well. "Either of you. Please don't touch me like that." Saying 'please' at all grates a bit, because I'm so used to solving the issue of making people I don't want touching me let go with punches, but I have to at least try the diplomatic way first. I don't want to disappoint Selina, and these people aren't threats, they're just insistent and ignoring the concept of personal space. I don't like it, but it's not worth a punch.

"I'd like to get to know you, Jay," the daughter says, stepping uncomfortably close to me with a smile that still only comes across as predatory to me. "Maybe we could sit and talk somewhere?"

Jesus; I'm fourteen.

And rich, is the next thought that clicks. She's after me because I've got money, and I'm probably the less competitive target in the room compared to Dick. A billionaire heir with only a year to go until he's legal is probably way more of a target than me, so this woman is just, what…? Getting a jumpstart on everyone else? It's fucking creepy, that's what it is, but it's also really telling.

Yeah, the two of them are being creeps, but it's me they're after. I'm the unknown, and I'm the target. I have the power. They don't know me, so I can choose to be anyone I want to be and they won't have any reason to doubt me. Oh, is this what Selina's been talking about whenever she mentioned building a public persona? This total freedom to do pretty much whatever I want, and not have anyone think I'm being uncharacteristically rude because they don't know me?

Well that puts a new spin on things, doesn't it?

I turn my head so I can lower the plate and set it down behind me, and then I meet the daughter's gaze head on as I relax. She smiles at me, and I push myself to give back what I hope is a smile with too much of a flash of teeth to be friendly. Judging by the way 'Melissa' looks suddenly a little unsure, I think I succeed. Still, she rallies after a second.

"Come on, Jay," she says, just loud enough to be heard over the music. "Let's get out of this mess and go talk. I'm sure we have a lot in common." She slips closer and reaches for my elbow, like she's going to steer me out of here.

I intercept her, raising my hand to brush hers aside and not following it up with the painful twist of her wrist that springs to mind. I keep my smile, and clearly say, "It's Jason, and I asked you not to touch me." She looks a little taken aback, and I sharpen my smile a little bit. That I know how to do. "Sorry, but I'm a little picky about friends, and I think you're a little old for me."

Oh, the way she gasps is just music to my ears.

The mother — never did introduce herself, did she? — makes almost the same noise, though with a touch more outrage. "Young man, apologize to my daughter this instant."

Hah. I've stood toe to toe with Robin and Batman, and that means that she can't intimidate me unless I let her. Now there's a realization.

"Why?" I ask bluntly, adding just a touch of 'puzzled' to make it a real question. "I'm only fourteen; I think it's really important for me to have friends my own age, don't you? I was just saying that 'Lissa is really too old to be 'my own age.' " I turn my head towards the daughter, widening my eyes just a bit as I add, "I mean, aren't you?"

I have the power. This is what Dick's been throwing around since I met him; the wealth, the status, the knowledge that you're the one that everyone wants. Even better for me, because I know Selina will back me up so long as I'm not blatantly rude to anyone who doesn't deserve it.

"Your mother will be hearing about your behavior, Jason," the older of the two threatens, and I let my smile fall away and my eyes narrow.

"Go ahead," I challenge. "You talk about my behavior, and I'll talk about how you grabbed me before you even said hello, did it again even after I asked you not to, and completely ignored me when I asked you to call me 'Jason' and not 'Jay.' I was polite, ma'am. Now I'm irritated, so please go away. Is that clear enough?"

The mother puffs up even as the daughter shrinks down a bit, but neither of them say anything. The mother just steps to the side, takes her daughter by the arm, shoots me one last nasty look, and struts off.

I let loose a breath in relief, and almost take a step back before remembering that the buffet table is right behind me. I glance around instead, making sure no one else is coming up on me. They're not; I'm alone for right now.

Dick is still surrounded by his group, over there. He has another drink in his hand, from the flashes of him I'm catching, and he doesn't seem to really be noticing or caring that I haven't come back. He's caught up flirting and laughing again, and it's hard to even see him he's so surrounded. It's almost like Bruce, across the room, except that I can see Selina right next to him. She doesn't seem to be phased by the women around Bruce, I guess for her it's practice.

I don't think I can do this. Not… Not like this, anyway. The gala was boring, but everything about this party makes me uncomfortable and I just don't like it.

I don't want to watch Dick flirt and be flirted with, I don't want to be the target of some creepy-as-fuck women looking to wind me around their fingers, and I don't want to have to play nice with any of them. I showed up; that's good enough, right? No one's going to fault me for vanishing. No one I care about anyway.

So I take one more glance to make sure that Selina looks like she's having a good time — I catch her right in the middle of leaning in to speak in Bruce's ear, so that's a yes — and then find the nearest exit and head for it. Not directly, I don't just make a beeline and get the hell out even though I really want to, but with a bit of curving instead. Like Selina's taught me about scoping security out when you're not in costume. Don't go straight for it, make it look like it was just an eventual destination by chance.

No one stops me, or even really seems to notice me beyond a couple glances when I come near, and I get out of the ballroom without so much as a word aimed towards me. I take a glance around the main entrance hall I'm back in, and all the doors. Most of them are closed, and the stairs don't really hold any appeal, so I stick to what I know. I head to the left of the stairs, slipping through the one door that's just slightly propped open and deeper into the manor.

I head back towards the library area that Dick usually takes me to, pausing for a moment in front of the door before I head into it. The fire's out this time, and none of the lights are on, but it's only a couple of seconds until my eyes adjust to the light of the moon from the windows against the opposite wall. I slip across the room, letting myself look at the two bottom shelves of games to my left, the couch and chairs around the empty fireplace, and then to the desk at the opposite side of the room.

I almost want to see what might be in that desk, but I hold back and just move to stand in front of one of the windows instead. There are lights on in the garden outside, and I can see a few people scattered around the hedges. I snort and roll my eyes as I pick out the fact that they're pretty much all in pairs, and close to each other. Well, no mystery as to what they're doing.

I entertain myself by watching them for a few minutes, and then breathe out a sigh and turn around to head back to the rest of the manor. It doesn't feel right to be in here without Dick, and I know pretty much everything in this room anyway. It's tempting to just curl up with one of these books until the party ends, but not tempting enough. Not right now.

When I'm about halfway across the room I hear footsteps — two people, hurried pace — and then the laughter of a woman. I automatically duck down behind the end of the couch, drawing myself into enough of a ball that I'm not visible behind it. The knob turns and the door opens, and I flatten myself against the couch, wondering what other pair of stupid, drunk people has picked this room, of all the rooms, as somewhere to mess around. And how likely is it that I can get out of here without them noticing?

There's another breathless laugh, and then the slight thud of an impact. I'd guess the wall, especially since I never heard the door close. I roll my eyes at the slight groan — still the woman; unless it's two women? — and what sounds like fairly heavy kissing.

I take a peek around the edge of the couch to check my chances of getting to that door, and I'm not even really looking at them but I still freeze up.

Black hair, skin that's a little darker than normal, and shorter than the woman by a few inches. One of her hands is tangled in his hair, and the other is clenched back between his shoulder blades. The red of her nails is washed out by the moonlight, but there's enough light spilling in from the open door to see it, like it makes the shade of his skin obvious next to hers.

That can't be Dick, can it?

He pulls back a little bit, and she lets go as he takes a step back, his left hand catching hers as he tilts away and towards the rest of the room. I catch that too familiar easy smile curling his mouth, and the edge of distinctive bright blue eyes, and then I have to yank myself back behind the couch so that he doesn't see me. I draw in a shallow breath, my eyes wide and something in my stomach tightening unpleasantly.

It shouldn't surprise me. I know it shouldn't. Dick might be only seventeen, but he's still old enough and he makes his own choices. I shouldn't be surprised — or whatever the hell this pain is in my stomach — that he's sexual, and I was already half convinced that he was straight anyway. What more proof do I really need?

What does it matter why he's off in his own house, fooling around with some woman? It could just be who he is, it could be birthday celebrations, or it could be that compensating thing and he's just trying to have what fun he can while Bruce can't stop him. It's not my business; Dick can mess around with whoever he wants, whenever he wants. He's just a friend, and maybe I've got some stupid crush but that doesn't give me any claim to him. I won't be that creepy stalker, or that jealous best friend. I won't do that.

I didn't need to see this, and god I hope they don't stick around because I don't want to actually watch anything happen, but it's done now. I should just let go, shouldn't I?

If Dick's not straight then he does a damn good job pretending, and he's going to be legal in another year anyway to do whatever he wants. I'm too young for him, even if he had any interest.

God, give it up.

"Come on," Dick says, his voice a low, charming thing that I'm not sure I've ever heard from him. "It's cold and dark in here, let me take you upstairs."

"A real bed and everything?" The woman's voice is lowered too, heated like how I've heard Selina sound around Batman. "What a gentleman you are, Dick. Let me thank you properly."

I hear the door close, and for a second I think that they've actually stopped in here for something I definitely don't want to hear, but then there are the taps of footsteps against the wood floor of the corridor outside. I lean my head back against the couch, wrapping my arms around my stomach and trying to forget everything I just saw and heard. I almost wish that I was back to just wondering and waiting.

And I'm such an idiot, because there's still a little spark in my chest that feels like hope. A tiny voice saying: but maybe Dick's not straight. It's stupid, it's ridiculous, but I can't quite grind it out. Maybe tomorrow.

I push myself to my feet, heading for the door because suddenly I really don't want to be in here. I peek out into the corridor before I head out, making sure no one is around. I consider both directions for a moment, and then I turn and head deeper into the manor and into areas I've never been. Pretty much all the doors are closed back here, and I can still very faintly hear the music from the actual party but it's barely enough to even remind me that it's happening.

I try a few doors, look into a few open rooms and find a few locked ones that I don't pick out of respect for Selina's sense of morals. Whatever secrets this house has, I'm not sure I want to know. Eventually I find one with light spilling out from inside it, and I open it and look in out of pure curiosity.

The empty rooms definitely made me complacent, because when I poke my head in and someone looks back at me I freeze in place, my tongue tied and any kind of words sticking in my throat. The man looking back at me is older, probably at least sixty, with one arched eyebrow and a suit on that looks distinctly waiter-ish. The effect is just slightly ruined by the apron he's got on over it, and the fact that his hands are stuck inside a bowl of something as he watches me.

"S-Sorry," I manage to stammer out, finally recognizing that this is a kitchen. I start to pull back, and the man makes a sound that sounds like reprimand. Whatever it was supposed to be, it stops me in my tracks.

"Come in, young man," he says, with a British accent that sounds just a bit imperious. Hesitantly, I obey. I slip into the room, and at another raise of that eyebrow I carefully shut the door behind me too. "You're young Mr. Kyle, yes?"

I wince, finding it a little hard to hold the other man's gaze. "It's just Jason." My voice comes out quieter than I'd like, but I do at least manage to keep my head raised and not duck it like I really want to.

Then he gives a small smile, and I can physically feel myself relax. "Well, you look absolutely miserable, Jason. Why don't you take a seat, I'll make you some tea, and you can tell me what brings you so deep into the manor. Does that sound good to you, sir?"

Hesitantly, I nod. The man tilts his head towards the chair on the opposite side of the kitchen table that he's at, and I slowly walk further in across the tile and take a seat in it. He gives me another small smile for that, and pulls his hands from the bowl — it looks like his hands are covered in flecks of flour — and crosses over to the sink to wash them. I clasp my hands in my lap, looking around the kitchen. It's very… neat. Everything looks like it's just where it needs to be, even the ingredients and mixing bowl that's over on the other side of the table are in neat, even lines.

"What are you making?" I ask, before it occurs to me that I'm still the uninvited stranger here. I wince, but he just smiles over his shoulder at me as he turns off the water in the sink and dries his hands.

"Pastries, for tomorrow morning." I watch him walk over to a stove and click on the fire underneath a kettle, before reaching up above it to some cupboards to pull down a plain black mug. "So, what drove you from the party, sir?" He looks over at me, and then adds on, "I do hope none of the other guests were engaging in any uncouth behavior towards you."

My mouth twitches into a faint smile, and then I give a small shake of my head. "It wasn't that bad," is my not-an-answer.

"That is not technically a no," he points out, instantly, and it kind of shocks me into silence. I haven't had someone call me out like that… ever. Not ever. "I am well versed in technicalities, young sir. I do live in a house with a businessman and Master Dick, after all."

My stomach clenches again at the mention of Dick, and I drop my gaze down to my lap and my hands, trying not to clench them together any harder. What Dick does is his business, I need to remember that. It's not my place to criticize what he chooses to do; I don't know the story and Dick might be shallow sometimes but he's not stupid. He wouldn't do something that was actually dangerous.

"Ah, I see." My gaze snaps back up towards the older man, and he's watching me with a mixture of sympathy and something that looks a little sad. "What did he do? If Master Dick has been unkind in any way—"

"No!" I rush to answer. "No, it was— It wasn't my business anyway, he doesn't even know that I saw." My breath catches a little bit, as my eyes widen. "Don't tell him. Please don't tell him any of this."

I can only think about Dick finding out that I saw him and realizing that it actually hurt me. Realizing that I'm bisexual, and then what? I have no idea what he thinks about anyone who's not straight; it hasn't come up and I'm not crazy or brave enough to ask. For all I know it could disgust him, and I could either have to hide who I am from him or stop being his friend at all. Even if he's not prejudiced, what if he doesn't understand? What if he thinks I'm wrong, or that I'm terrible for crushing on him, or—?

"Of course not, sir," he says. "I always hold my private conversations in strictest confidence." He crosses back over to me, and I don't know precisely when it happened but somehow there's a cup of tea in his hands, still lightly steaming. He sets it down in front of me, and then sits down on the corner of the table as he looks down at me. "Why don't you tell me what happened, sir?"

"You don't have to call me that," I murmur, reaching for the cup.

"That's hot enough to burn your tongue," he says mildly, "and you're right, I don't have to call you 'sir.' I choose to." He reaches forward, and for some reason I don't stop him from brushing my bangs away from eyes, and I lean into his hand when his fingers lightly brush the strands back behind my ear.

It's nice.

"Who are you?" I ask, looking up at him as I let my hand come back down to my lap instead of grabbing the cup of tea.

"My name is Alfred Pennyworth," he says softly, his hand lowering back down and away from me. "I am Master Bruce's butler and have been since he was a small boy; I raised him after his parents passed. I run the house." He gives a small smile, and leans towards me just a bit, voice lowering as he says, like it's a confession, "And I keep both Master Bruce and Master Dick in line when they are too foolish to do it themselves."

I can't help smiling back, even if it's just a little bit. "So is it Alfred, or Mr. Pennyworth, or…?"

"You may call me what you wish, young sir, and you are stalling to not have to answer my question."

I flush a bit in embarrassment, but cling to my question anyway. "I don't want to call you what I want," I press, "I want to call you what you want to be called. Who's avoiding the question now?"

His mouth curls at one corner, and he gives a soft laugh. "That's a kind sentiment; Alfred will do just fine, sir. Now I believe you are the only one avoiding a question, aren't you?"

I lower my gaze back to my lap, my throat feeling tight. "I… The party's just not my idea of a good time. I was uncomfortable, so I went exploring. I didn't mean to intrude on anyone; sorry."

Alfred's quiet for a moment, and then he nudges the tea closer for me and softly says, "That is part of the truth, but not all of it. Whatever you tell me stays between us, sir; I would not betray your secrets to anyone else. Not even my employers." I raise my gaze again, and he's giving me a soft smile. "Why don't you start by telling me what made you uncomfortable?"

"They're stupid reasons," I try and brush off, and Alfred raises one of his eyebrows again.

"Nothing that makes you uncomfortable can be considered stupid, young sir. If you truly don't want to share, I will leave it be, but it seems to me that you might like the chance to share your concerns with someone other than your own mother." I startle a little bit, and his smile softens even further. "As comforting as paternal figures are, we don't always want to share everything with them, do we?"

I shake my head, and then blurt out, "I don't like crowds. I— Strangers. Crowds of strangers make me wary and uncomfortable, and—" My throat clenches for another second, and this time I duck my head again and lower my gaze to avoid Alfred's look. "The drinking makes it worse. When people drink they get violent, they get mean. I didn't want to be around when that happened. I didn't want—" I cut myself off before I admit that it was specific, that it was about Dick drinking.

Another moment of silence, and then Alfred presses, "And the rest of it?"

"Does there have to be more?" I counter, raising my gaze. He meets it steadily.

"No, what you've given are perfectly valid reasons to leave the party itself. However," his lips curl in a slightly sad smile, "they do not explain why you look like you've just had your heart broken." I freeze, and he tilts his head a bit. "I imagine that has something to do with Master Dick, doesn't it?"

"You know?" I ask, my chest feeling tight with what I know has to be fear.

"I suspected," Alfred corrects. "It was not a jump to consider that the son might have the same leanings as the mother." He reaches out again, and I stay utterly still until his fingers push my bangs back again. "You really do need a haircut, young sir. Unless you plan on growing it long, anyway." His gaze meets mine again, and he gives a soft smile as he strokes his fingers back down behind my ear. I ease a little bit at his smile and his touch. "What a person desires is no one's business but their own, young sir. And no one can control who their heart chooses to want. It is not wrong, nor is it your fault. Sometimes our heart chooses someone who cannot choose us back, and it may be painful, but that's no one's fault either. Sometimes life is painful." His smile slips into something just a little bit more sad. "I imagine you know that already."

I give a small nod, and then let out a long breath. "Thanks," I murmur. "I— I'll head back to the party."

"Nonsense," he says, and I lock into stillness instead of standing up like I was definitely going to. "You'll stay here and drink your tea, and when your mother is ready to go she'll come and find you. You won't be forcing discomfort on yourself under my watch, young sir. If anyone has anything negative to say about that, they can say it to me and I will quite politely tell them that they're ignorant fools."

I relax, and manage a small smile up at him. "Thank you," I repeat.

"You're welcome, sir." He stands up and off of the table, and then reaches forward and gives me a couple of soft pats to the top of my head. For once, I don't feel like I need to immediately pull away from them. "Drink the tea; it's quite good. You may ask me whatever questions you like, by the way. I have work to do, but none of it will require my full attention and I am perfectly capable of multitasking."

"I uh…" I work up the courage, and then meet his gaze and ask, "Will you narrate what you're doing?" I force myself to hold his look, even as I can feel my cheeks burning a bit out of embarrassment and I have to give a small shrug to vent some of that feeling. "I like to cook," is my pretty lame explanation.

Alfred's whole demeanor softens, and he gives a small laugh. "Of course, young sir. Why don't you pick the mug up and come stand by me so you can watch as well?"

I relax, smile, and do exactly that.