Suits

Neal pulled on one of Byron's suits with practised ease. Nerves fluttered in his stomach. It felt like a warning.

Tonight was the night.

"You're really going?" Jason questioned from his place on the couch. He was frustrated with his limited movement and it didn't help that June, Roy and Mozzie had joined forces to keep him from exerting himself. Or, as Jason referred to it, 'keep him on the couch in boredom'.

"Someone has to authenticate the invitations," Neal sighed. Jason's frustrated expression didn't change. "My laptop is sitting on the table, if you really need something to do."

"Like hack into the FBI and change all of Neal Caffrey's information to 'smug, stupid conman'?"

"Babs would just fix it up and then scold you for wasting time. If you're truly unlucky, she'll give you a job like improving the Justice League's firewall."

"Only you get those jobs, Dickie," Jason pointed out with a grin.

Neal rolled his eyes. "Hey, maybe you could, I don't know, rest?"

Jason snorted.

Peter knocked and then let himself in. He was also dressed up in a nice suit.

"Where has that suit been the entire time I've known you?" Neal questioned in bafflement. He was unaware that Peter even owned suits which didn't make him look like, in Mozzie's words, a 'Suit'.

This was a proper suit.

"It's for formal events," Peter explained. "Like this one. El picked it."

Neal nodded in approval. El had good taste, but he knew that already.

"Let's get this show on the road," he said.

Dresses

With Jason laid up with his injuries and Dick undercover as Neal at the front desk, Bruce, Tim and Damian were the only Wayne men attending the party.

Tim showed Neal where he and Peter would be set up. El was running around making sure everything was good to go before the start. She dropped by to give Peter a kiss and make sure they knew the timetable for the night and their duties.

Cass, Steph and Helena all entered together. Cass opened the door to let them through silently in a dark cocktail length dress. A necklace flashed around her neck and rings and bracelets adorned her left arm.

Steph was in a bright, floor length purple dress. She grinned and fidgeted with her hair, which was braided above her head. It didn't look comfortable but she seemed excited enough.

Helena was in a simple dark purple dress. Neal couldn't tell who picked it out; Selina or Steph? But it was appropriate for a twelve year old girl. Her hair was braided on each side, making her look younger than she was. It was no wonder she was scowling a little.

"Can't be fun to be a kid at one of these things," Peter noted with a sympathetic frown.

All three girls turned to him.

"Here's the thing, Wayne's have good hearing," Neal pointed out before giving his sisters a grin. "Greetings, ladies! Coming in? Just show your invitation here and I'll buzz you in."

"I don't know, looks like the real party is out here," Steph commented.

"Tim's in there," Neal responded, his grin morphing from polite to maniacal. He heard the little intake of air from an annoyed, but I'll let you get away with whatever you're planning because it doesn't involve anything illegal, Peter.

"And just what are you saying?" Steph cocked a hip in a sassy sway.

Neal leant forward and lowered his voice. "He might need a reminder that these things are about more than just business. Damian too, now that I think about it."

Steph snickered and shot him a wolfish grin. "I should go in then."

"Do not encourage torment towards your brothers," Cass said flatly. But, Cass' tone was almost always flat. Her emotion was shown in her face. In the small disapproving down-turn at the corner of her lips that Neal was almost certain she learnt from Alfred.

Neal just hummed non-noncommittally in response.

"Remember, it's been... a long time," Cass reminded him. Neal waited until she had gone inside with Helena before sighing and rolling his eyes. He didn't need to be reminded of that.

"I think she's mad at me," he commented to Peter.

"I think she's mad that you're out here and not in there." Peter and Neal both jumped and Damian announced his presence.

"What are you doing in the coat room?" Neal questioned in a baffled tone. There hadn't been anyone working that room. He had Peter had been giving the front desk with instructions that they wouldn't be taking coats.

Damian walked out, looking broad-shouldered in his suit. He had removed his jacket, which was draped over his arm. His shirt was a bright green, visible but nice. Although, Damian had just proved that he could still move around without being spotted.

"Hiding."

"From what?" Peter demanded to know. He wasn't using an interrogating tone but an annoyed one.

"Father."

"Why?" Neal sighed. He thought that Damian and Bruce would have sorted out all their problems.

"He insists on hanging around with that woman and I refuse to stand with them as a buffer between whatever relationship they have and the press."

"There's not supposed to be any press at the party," Neal pointed out.

"Kent," Damian growled as a reminder.

Neal shrugged. "Doesn't count."

"Why not just say you can't comment?" Peter interrupted. Both boys turned to stare at him in blank confusion. "Has that never occurred to you before?"

"Doesn't that make them come after you even more?" Damian questioned.

"Not really. Not any more than usual. Some might even back off because they can't get the story from you."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

Peter gave Neal a smug look. "Sometimes the FBI has to deal with the press, Neal."

"Why do I never see them?" Neal questioned.

"Maybe because we don't want you talking with them?"

"Ouch."

The doors opened and a group came in. Damian quickly excused himself to get away from the crowd. As he left, Neal caught a glance at the red converse shoes on his feet.

Seventeen years old and still wearing those shoes to these 'black tie' events. Damian was probably hiding from Alfred's wrath and Bruce's reminder of said wrath.

Manning the Desk I

Alfred walked by with a tray. He took one look at Neal's outfit and gave an approving nod. Neal grinned.

"I must say, Agent Burke, you're doing a wonderful job here."

Neal's smile fell.

"What are that about?" Peter asked him.

Neal contemplated not telling him. Make Peter wonder what it had been about. Then again, Peter probably wouldn't worry about too much since it had been a compliment sent his way.

"Alfred was thanking you for putting up with me," he muttered.

Peter laughed. "It's about time someone did."

Neal shot him a betrayed glare.

Manning the Desk II

The snooty woman practically shoved the invitation in his face. Neal grinned at her while he wondered if he should suggest some kind of nasal spray for the way she kept sniffing loudly.

Neal only needed to run a quick, critical eye over the invitation to know whether it was real or forged. This invitation was, sadly, real.

Behind her was a man who looked a little too overwhelmed and quiet for this kind of event.

"You'll be fine in there," Neal informed him after checking his invitation. Next to him, Peter crossed the man's name off the list of expected guests El had given them. "If you get nervous, just talk to the large, clumsy guy in glasses. Odds are he's near the food tables. He will be able to at least introduce you to Bruce Wayne. Or keep you away from him. Whichever you want."

The man nodded stiffly before walking in.

"'Clumsy guy in glasses'?" Peter questioned as he glanced at the name on the next invitation and moved to cross it off.

"Trust me, you'd know him if you were in there."

Neal took the next invitation and looked over it. Peter crossed another name off the list.

Distraction

Damian took the staff entrance into the outer hall. He only came because father had said Caffrey; Grayson's current alias, was going to be here. Damian was annoyed to discover that Caffrey had been stationed outside of the party, where they weren't supposed to talk to him.

Maybe he could make up some kind of story about admiring the FBI and wanting to work with them in the future as an excuse to talk with Caffrey? Nah. He didn't want to admit any kind of admiration when he did the same kind of job, only more dangerous and didn't get any kind of 'thanks' for it from the locals.

A pan clattered to the floor in a nearby room, setting Damian's nerves on edge. He stalked towards where it was and opened the door.

"What is going-"

He was too careless! There was crack and a flash of pain and light, crackling like bad speakers. Damian reacted, lashing out to his side, where the attack had come from. There was blurred talking and something sweet was shoved in his face. Damian sunk into unconsciousness as his body went limp.

His last thought was for the woman who was apparently the main kidnapping target and a flash of shame that he hadn't been able to assist.