Author's Note: shoutout to my review squad who always make me strive to be a better writer, and always cheer up my day! also, next week's update might not be on time (it'll probably be a few days late because of school + tests) also reminder that i have a poll on, so check it out!

also this chapter is short, but the other was extra long so it kind of makes up for it?

and HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO DICK GRAYSON! (March 20th is his in-universe birthday!)

Chapter Fourteen – The Best Cupcakes Known to Mankind

Dick checked the clock on the kitchen wall, and reckoned that they had about fifteen more minutes until it was appropriate for them to leave. Technically they had already left the ballroom, but he figured that they should probably suffer with at least one more person's boring conversation before they could start their study session.

Stepping into the kitchen, he scanned the room until he found exactly what he was looking for. It was no secret that Alfred had always made a batch of cupcakes with frosting before big cocktail parties, and although he never explicitly said it, Bruce knew of it too. They were for when the food was particularly disgusting (which unfortunately, was ninety percent of the time) and Dick usually ended up eating five of them.

He found the hidden cookie jar – shaped like a bat – and quickly unscrewed the lid. Kory stood beside him; the fabric of her dress kept brushing past his hand, which was really distracting. It was silky smooth, like a ribbon constantly pressing against his skin. Clearing his throat and shaking away those kind of thoughts, he grabbed a cupcake with vanilla frosting and passed it to her.

"They're Alfred's cupcakes," Dick explained when she'd had that cute confused expression on her face. "They're like the best cupcakes known to mankind!"

"Okay," she murmured, laughing softly, and he grabbed one for himself, savoring each bite. The frosting was extra sugary, laced with hints of vanilla, with a small chocolate curl resting on the top. Leaning on the counter, he copied Kory's position and watched as her eyes widened in delight.

She bit into the top of the cake, and remnants of icing smeared on her cheek. "This is delicious!" she exclaimed, the motion making her hair brush against his shoulder.

Dick silently agreed, grinning to himself. He turned to look at her, and found her exhaling quietly, biting her lip slightly. It was mesmerizing, the way she looked: cheeks tinged with a dabble of pink, eyes lidded slightly and eyelashes clumped together, curling at the edges. His mind was beginning to wander again, and he physically gripped the side of the countertop, steadying himself.

Her eyes opened and she looked at him, slightly amused. "What?" he asked, starting to feel self-conscious.

"You have frosting on your nose," Kory giggled, showing a full smile. His hand instinctively moved to wipe it off, until her own halted the movement, and the fingers of her left hand cleared it off. He could feel his cheeks burning, embarrassment seeping in.

She put her index finger in her mouth and suddenly sucked the icing off, and he briefly wondered if he was dreaming up this whole party. Dick's eyes bulged, and her lips parted in surprise. He didn't know what was wrong with himself – they'd been friends for a few weeks, and he'd never properly thought about her in that way before. Sure he'd entertained himself with the idea, once or twice, but it was like suddenly feelings had rammed into his side, making everything slightly dizzy.

He debated asking her how the hell she managed to look so sexy all the time, except she was looking at him again, with an air of innocence this time. Any traces of suggestiveness had disappeared from her face. "Should we go back to the party?" the redhead asked, and the corners of her lips quirked upwards.

Nodding, Dick forced any inappropriate thoughts out of his mind. "Sure," he said, "let's go."

They reached the ballroom, and he searched the room for Bruce. Any ideas of staying in this room any longer had dissipated; the thick stench of perfume was making his head hurt. Dick turned to Kory, trying to sound as casual as he could.

"Hey, do you wanna just start the study session now?" he asked, and patiently waited for her response. He avoided direct eye contact, and instead focused on the way her hair curled – the top of each strand was slightly wavy, before spiraling half-way into a rosy curl.

"Okay!" she nodded, surprisingly perky, and a sense of relief surges through his veins. "I am just going to tell my parents," she said, and began to disappear between the darkness of the crowd. He strained to see her, watching as her figure gracefully moved between people, eventually giving up and putting his hands in his pockets.

Resisting the urge to sigh, to grab her arm and drag her back, he bristled slightly. He was Dick Grayson! The acrobat who could use a trapeze without a net! A crowd of stuffy, middle-aged snooty rich people wasn't going to harm him, although their topics of conversation might. Forcing himself to exhale, Dick walked head-first into the thinning crowd and looked for the familiar façade held by his mentor.

He was standing next to an elderly couple, and it was evident that the trio were in deep conversation. Dick didn't even bother waiting for a pause in the conversation – he stepped in between them and gave his most delighted (and fake) smile.

"Bruce?" he questioned, and it was slightly awkward trying to talk to his guardian whilst the older woman cooed. Bruce Wayne, dressed to the nines, flashed a charming smile and it was a signal for Dick to continue talking. The boy himself hated how he had to look to Bruce for permission to allow the conversation to keep on going: it was one of the little habits that made him more rebellious than usual teenagers.

He wasn't Bruce's puppet, his soldier forever marching on.

Dick let the question flow out of his mouth steadily. "Kory and I are going to my bedroom to do some homework."

To his utter confusion, the elderly gentleman snorted and patted his back. "Becoming a man, are we, eh?" he said gruffly, smelling strongly of whiskey and shellfish. The woman beside him held an expression of scandal, and the thick eyeliner that encompassed her small eyes, cracked a little.

Bruce turned to the pair, still giving a dazzling smile. "If you would excuse us for a minute, I just need to talk to my son."

The last word of the sentence made Dick slightly light-headed. He wasn't sure if Bruce actually meant it, or if it was just another way of presenting himself as a perfect father to the outside world. Following Bruce to the side of the ballroom, beside one of the wooden alcoves, he waited to see what the problem was.

Launching into a full-fledged tirade, the dark-haired man's eyebrows raised accusingly. "Is this really the most appropriate time?" he hissed, and the younger boy only stared at him. "What happens when Tim lives here? Are you going to continue doing this during the day when your brother is in the room next door?!"

Bewildered, Dick managed a small, unsure, "…yeah?" He had no idea about what Bruce was ranting about, and his mind was desperately trying to come up with logical explanations, fitting jagged puzzle pieces together and failing miserably.

His mentor's face darkened, and he sighed, sounding slightly defeated. "You better be using protection. If not, there's a box in my room but you need to be in charge of getting your own."

Dick's jaw almost snapped from the notion. Bruce thought he was sleeping with Kory? He couldn't even think properly, freezing with mortification.

"N-no!" he started, and the words tumbled out of his mouth like bricks. "No! I'm not…I'm not sleep–" he began to say, but Bruce had only fixated on the first part of the sentence.

His look was almost murderous, eyes widening. He was crossing the borderline between whispering and shouting. "What do you mean you're not using protection?" Bruce growled and then his voice became a few decibels from silence, almost deadly. "I am not dealing with a teenage pregnancy scandal."

Finally, Dick stuttered the sentence out, and his entire being felt like it was on fire. "I'm not sleeping with her!" he defended, exclaiming loudly. Perhaps a little too loudly, because Kory's dad was suddenly too close for comfort and he caught the teenage boy's eye. There were two short message held in those two short glances, and both of them were threatening.

"We're just friends!" Dick said, resuming back into a whisper. "Seriously…" he added, trying to prove his point.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, sounding skeptical. "Really? I didn't realise you held hands with all of your friends. How come you never do that with Donna?" he asked, suspicious.

Dick floundered for a whole twenty seconds, trying to come up with any reasonable excuse.

The billionaire continued, more sarcastic than ever. "And you just openly stare at the cleavage of your female friends, right?"

A lump formed in his throat that Dick couldn't get rid of. He thought he was being subtle. No wonder everybody was assuming Kory was his girlfriend. His mind quickly flashed back to the older gentleman's comment, and Dick pulled a face, slightly grossed out. If 'manhood' meant sleeping around (and unprotected sex), then he was happier being a teenager.

He didn't have a proper response for that, so he just reaffirmed his statement. "I'm not sleeping with her," he said slightly calmer.

It seemed that his mentor didn't actually believe him, but the playboy relaxed nonetheless. "I'm doing an important business deal with her parents," and Dick knew that was the most detailed information he'd ever hear about the transaction, "and if this deal fails, Wayne Enterprises will lose a lot of money. I don't care if you end up sleeping with her on a later date, but don't let her father find out."

His son almost laughed at the absurdness of it all. Bruce was happy to allow him to sleep with Kory (it was disgusting how he used the word 'sleep' instead of 'date' or anything on a less sexual note) as long as he kept it a secret from her family. Except if even if he was sleeping with Kory (he tried not to focus on that situation too much) Dick wasn't exactly going to tell her whole family was he?

He could imagine the conversation right then, sitting on the dinner table and talking to her parents: "Did you know in Math we're doing surds? Wanna hear another thing I'm doing? Your daughter."

Rolling his eyes, Dick ignored the remnants of Bruce's next words, and instead scanned the room for Kory. She was in the opposite corner, and although he had to squint a little to make out their faces, it was pretty obvious her parents were upset with her. He silently prayed it had nothing to do with him, and walked past one of the waiters, grabbing a small glass of Coke.

He sipped at it gently, trying to look like he was occupied so that nobody would try and to start a conversation with him. It worked, and he lingered by the dessert table, sneaking a little bit of cake in his mouth and then almost gagging when he realised the whole thing was topped with sweet cranberries and pieces of sour lemon.

Kory had finished talking to her parents, and she was coming towards him, a small smile gracing her soft features. She reached him and pushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, whilst the other hand stayed by her side, clutching her gold purse. They twisted through the maze of corridors in Wayne Manor, walking up the white double staircase with a black swirling railing.

He was surprised that she hadn't commented on the size of the house – apart from Roy, that had been a requirement when his friends had visited. Even Rachel had raised an eyebrow, looking impressed. Of course, she had come up with a sarcastic remark ten seconds later, but the action had still been committed.

A pang of guilt hit his stomach, as they turned into the hallway that led to the Family Wing. He had switched off his phone after she'd sent him an apologetic text message, and it was still sitting in the inside of his jacket pocket. Fragments of anger still resided inside of him, and thinking about it made him want to grit his teeth.

Dick suddenly remembered that Kory's house in Tamaran had been reminiscent of a palace. He stole a small glance at her, and watched with interest as she tightened her small ponytail and bit the corner of her lip. When they reached his room, he opened the door and waited for her expression.

His room was relatively neat, and he took pride in that. A large bed sat in the middle, with his chest of drawers on the left and a rolled-up mat beside it. Laminated wooden floorboards, dark red walls and a handful of lamps and lights scattered around. He had a bookcase beside the door, filled with fiction, dictionaries and the occasional comic from when he had been younger.

She didn't say anything, but with her, they always managed to slip into comfortable silence. There were some days where he was completely absorbed his thoughts, and he was grateful that she didn't force him into speaking or try and spark a conversation. Sometimes the quiet was better.

Kory looked up at one of the rare posters in his room, before turning to him with a slight grin. "AC/DC?"

The tips of his ears heated up and he nodded, slightly shamefaced. "I don't really listen to that much music," he explained, "but they're pretty good."

She didn't say anything in return, and instead continued to look around, even taking a few steps. Her fingers brushed against his The Flying Graysons poster, and he waited for the inevitable question to appear. Instead, her lips parted slightly, but she moved onto the little snow globe sitting on his bedside table. It had been a souvenir from the ski chalet they'd visited last year.

When the pair had finally settled by his desk, he opened a drawer and took out a small stack of paper. He scattered all of his half-completed notes of Animal Farm on one side and she did the same. Hers were slightly creased in the middle, having been folded to fit in her small purse. Both of them placed their copies of the book on the table, and he passed her a pen.

"Last class we were discussing the context of the author," Kory explained, her pen lightly tapping against the surface of the paper. All of her notes were written in bright purple ink, with important sections highlighted in pink. He knew that they were probably her two favourite colours (apart from green) and it made him smile at how obviously Kory the notes were. She continued, "and how it is an allegory of the Russian Revolution. We were drawing parallels between the actual events and those published in the book."

He nodded, watching her talk. It was really distracting the way her curls slipped off her shoulders and chest and landed on her back instead, and he was really tempted to pick them up and place them in their previous position. Dick tried to focus – he really did – but then his phone started buzzing in his pocket and he almost knocked over his glass of water.

Kory smiled understandingly. "Do you want to get that?" she asked, and he hesitated.

"You sure?" he asked back.

She nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I was actually going to ask you where the bathroom is."

He looked at the door on the right of his bed. Cringing internally, he hoped that the bathroom wasn't a total mess (since trying to get ready for these dreaded parties usually resulted in him chucking a few things and accidentally dropping his shaving cream all over the floor). Debating whether or not to send her to the main bathroom (that nobody actually used, since there were only four of them in the house, and Jason wasn't even here), he ended up motioning to the door and giving a sheepish grin.

"Just over there," he said, "I'm sorry about the mess."

Smiling good-naturedly, Kory followed the direction of his hand and disappeared behind the door. His phone was still vibrating in his pocket, and it paused for a few seconds before resuming again. Digging it out of his pocket, Dick froze when the name came up. He closed his eyes momentarily, and against all of his common sense, answered the call.

"Hey Rachel," he greeted quietly, trying to keep the phone conversation as unnoticeable as possible.

The aforementioned girl didn't even bother with a reply, but launched into a hiss. "Why the hell don't you pick up your phone?" She sounded extremely vexed, and Dick winced at the sharpness of her tone. "It doesn't matter." she grumbled, and he could hear the sounds of other indiscernible voices in the background.

He glanced at the paper in front of him whilst Rachel continued. "We're in the car outside of Wayne Manor." There was a pause and then a "Gar shut up!" before the conversation resumed. There was a hint of bitterness that Dick could detect when she said, "you can bring Kory along too, if you want," and an extra pause before an impatient, "but hurry up!"

Dick hadn't even said anything in the conversation, but she'd already hung up. He was torn between following Bruce's orders (and staying at the party) or ditching it to hang out with his friends. But even then, would they manage it? Would Kory even want to go? He knew that his friends wouldn't express their displeasure of having her over in front of her, but he also knew that the whole cafeteria incident yesterday hadn't helped much either.

There was a sound of the bathroom door unlocking, and Kory emerged a few seconds later. He dropped his pen on the desk, catching it before it rolled off, and finally decided to bite the bullet.

"Kory?" he asked, as she settled down in the chair beside him.

"Hmm?" she asked, and he swore she had batted her eyelashes at him.

"Uh, are you interested in going to a different party?" he asked, and it was obvious the redhead was waiting for him to elaborate. "Wally's having a party right now, and he was wondering if you wanted to come." That was a small lie, but he brushed the guilt off. "It's your choice though," he added, almost as an afterthought, making sure that he didn't pressure her into doing anything she didn't want to do.

He watched the girl's expression change from confusion to worry. "Are you sure?" she asked, sounding unsure. "I don't think my parents would approve…and they have not been extremely pleased with me in the past few days."

Dick was already skating on thin ice with Bruce, and he realised with a start that the repercussions of attending this party would probably be dire. He was aware of the stress his mentor was currently enduring due to the adoption process, and he also knew that Wayne Enterprises was under a lot of public scrutiny. As much as he hated the upper-class society, there was a reason why Dick needed to be present to show his support.

"Yeah," he empathized, "I know the feeling. It's fine, we can just continue our study session." he shot her a reassuring smile, and the scrunch between her eyebrows disappeared.

Typing a quick text message to Rachel, apologizing to her, he then put his phone back into his pocket. It vibrated once, notifying him that he had a message, but the dark-haired boy left it alone.

He had a sinking feeling that Rachel would be upset about it, even if she didn't avidly show it. He'd been friends with her since sophomore year, and their similarities and shared interests had allowed them to secure a strong relationship within weeks of meeting one another. He knew that she'd had some personal issues to deal with during freshman year – and that's why the school had instantly labelled her negatively – but despite her occasionally snarky behaviour and erratic temperament, Rachel Roth was a good person.

She was completely different from Kory, but then he didn't think he had ever met anybody remotely as interesting as Kory. She was in a category of herself: playful, flirty, friendly, kind, funny, and absolutely gorgeous. He'd never really interacted with her before the beginning of this year, which only helped to build up the damaging image he had created for her. Dick regretfully remembered that he'd brushed her off as another one of Kitten's minions: too interested in her looks to actually try to amount to anything.

And for Kitten herself, that description was worryingly accurate. The number of times he had heard stories of how Kitten had blackmailed innocent teachers, and almost wrecked the home life of another made him wonder about what sort of upbringing she had experienced. Mr Moth was a silent figure, looming behind her words, but never actually present.

Kory looked up at him, a hint of amusement in her green eyes. "Are you paying attention?" she teased.

Dick lied, cheeks heating up. "Yup," he nodded. "I was just going to write your point down."

He knew that his answer had been a mistake, because she laughed freely. There were undertones of light-hearted complaint in her next sentence, and she pouted slightly. "Dick!" she exclaimed, her hand resting on his outstretched arm that sat on the desk. He reveled in the feeling, refusing to break eye contact.

"The last point I made," she giggled, "was that your bowtie has gone wonky."

His left hand clasped his neck, and he began loosening it. "Oh."

"Wait!" Kory ordered, brushing his hand away. "Let me do it."

This was the second time that evening that she'd found a way to help him, and his mind immediately went into hyperdrive, analyzing all of her actions. While she undid the necktie, Dick tried to find a place to focus on that didn't involve Kory's figure, and it ended up being the black poster on the wall.

Her fingers skillfully loosened it fully, and she began the arduous process of redoing it. There was something intimate about the way she did it; he could feel her warm breath on his cheek, and smell her fruity perfume. Was Kory trying to send him a signal? Or was she just naturally openly affectionate? He hadn't seen enough interaction with other people to prove the second, and it was starting to confuse him even further.

Babs and Bette had never gotten so close, had never done something so simple yet made it feel intimate, and he'd dated both of them. Donna, as open as she tried to be, struggled a lot with her identity (having experienced a difficult childhood) and often ended up closing herself from others. Rachel didn't exactly thrive on physical comfort either, and the other girls in his classes didn't act like this. Although he guessed that could be chalked down to the fact that he hardly interacted with girls his age (with the exception of his friends).

Kory was wearing red lip gloss that was really shiny. He realised that he had started staring at her lips (which was never a good action to do, unless you were about to kiss somebody) and his gaze flickered to the poster behind her again. Her mouth was set in a determined line, but the corners of it tugged upwards.

"Is this too tight?" she questioned, but he missed the question. She asked again, and he felt the familiar feelings of embarrassment resurface. "Dick? Is it too tight?"

"No," he mustered, "um, it's fine."

Kory adjusted it once more, and then her hands dropped. Her hand gripped his shoulders, and she tilted her head to the side, her lips lifting upwards. "There," she said.

She hadn't moved from her position, and the proximity was doing things to his head. "Um...t-thanks," he stuttered out, and it was starting to get really hot in the room. Eventually she pulled back, and her attention began to move towards their Animal Farm notes, even though they hadn't actually made any new ones yet. He finally leant back in his chair, hands instinctively checking that his bowtie was straight (not that he doubted Kory's ability to tie them perfectly).

More space meant that it was easier for him to focus again. Dick finally found his voice, and raised his eyebrows at her. "Do you do this often then?" he teased; her cheeks turned crimson and her smile broadened. It was so easy to poke fun at Kory, and her reactions often doted between endearing, sexy and cute.

"I usually do it for Ryan," she mumbled. Her arm had moved off of the desk when she had readjusted her bowtie, but it was back again, pressed against his own.

Internally, Dick cringed, knowing that he was crossing a thin line between friend and 'the boy who was similar to her brother.' He refused to comment on the situation further, and instead scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. "We should probably start on those notes," Dick pointed out.

Kory nodded, and he glanced at his own notes, reading out what he had written. "Animal Farm is a satirical comment on the corrupting influence of power." There was a lull in his sentence, before he remarked, "I don't really have any proper evidence for that, though." He opened his book, and began skimming the page.

Realizing that she was doing the same, he could help observe that her hair fell in soft cascades on the book. For the fiftieth time that night, he chastised himself for his failure to stop getting distracted by her appearance. He was starting to feel really shallow, constantly gawking at her. She had definitely noticed – she had to have – and was probably being too polite to point it out.

"I think I found something!" Kory exclaimed, her finger positioned under the quote. She slid the book towards him, and leant on his side. He ended up with a handful of hair grazing his cheek, smelling strongly of strawberries.

He only glanced at the quote, far too sidetracked to actually bother analyzing it completely. It seemed to have the right idea though, so he nodded anyway. "Yeah, it works. What themes have you got written down?"

She shuffled to the side, looking at her neat handwriting. "The corruption of socialist ideas in the Soviet Union; the usage of language to increase power; the danger of a naïve working class."

He went through the themes in his head, before Dick turned back to her. "Have you got anything on the societal tendency towards class stratification?"

Kory stared at him, before breaking out into a grin. Her bubbliness was infectious, and he copied her expression, scratching his arm. "No. What have you written?"

Feeling much more relaxed, he resumed his position of leaning back on his chair and folded his arms, almost smugly. "Okay," he began. "So you know how when the farmer, Mr Jones, leaves, there's a pause in control?" he asked, and waited for her to nod in agreement. "Previously, all of the 'classes' (or in this case, animals) teamed up together, but after this lull, it doesn't take long for somebody else to come into control."

He began to explain it more fully to her, adding the occasional doodle on the corner of his sheet in pencil. Kory had always been a good listener (although he believed that nobody could rival Donna, not even Rachel, but she did come close) and this evening only demonstrated it. She jotted down the occasional note, and he was surprised how focused they both stayed on the topic. He kept expecting for his mind to wander again, and result in them discussing something ridiculous, like whether or not the Super Bowl was rigged (he'd done that twice with Wally now).

"Hey." Dick finally decided to change topics. He wanted to ask something that had been bugging him for the past few days, but hadn't found the appropriate time. He knew that it was going to be sensitive for Kory, and that's why he chose to do it when she was much more calm and away from prying eyes of students.

"What's your relationship with Jenny like?"

It was obvious she didn't know where the subject was heading, but she answered anyway. "Jenny? I haven't really spoken to her much, but she is not a fan of Kitten. Why?"

He looked at her, deadly serious. "I think she was the one who wrote all of the graffiti."

Kory tilted her head to the side, alarmed. "Really? How? Why?" Her questions poured out, and it was perceptible that she had been wondering about this for quite a while. Closing her eyes, her expression cracked slightly, and it looked like she was about to cry. Her fingers curled by her sides, and he did his best to look reassuring. When she had softened, Dick took a deep breath.

He began to explain his theory to her.