Yes, this chapter is set almost six months later, because... because. It's also a bit of a beast, because I've been waiting for this scene to happen! For three years!

Nope, I am not Walt Disney or Stan Lee. Should be obvious as I'm typing... and they kinda can't. Sadly.

TapTap

Claire had seen some beautiful parties in her time. The party taking place in Stark Tower just after little miss Stark was born, now over a year ago, was perhaps one of the fanciest. This one was kinda peculiar, but elegant, and so riddled with different traditions she almost felt dizzy.

It was a very niche crowd, business leaders in rather specific fields, and the event was held at this rather small, very rustic and quite cozy retreat. Most of the guests drove there, and back in the night, as it was not only remote but had few rooms available. Naturally, the two top floor suites were earmarked for Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark.

She had come on her own, as Tony was flying in at the last minute, and when Bruce had asked, she had reminded him that, "I am a Stark, I never go home with the person I came with!" She had delivered the line with a cheeky wink, all but confirming she'd be coming back to Gotham with him this time. She had been before, but not more than once or twice. She liked Alfred, though. And the big, old manor spoke to her, much as she wasn't ready to live there anytime soon.

"Fine, have it your way," Wayne had responded, teasing her back. "And how about that party in the west end? Or do you count that as me coming home with you, instead?"

She had winked, and easily won the round with, "I went there with you... and I went home with Bruce. Not my fault you came with Tony to talk shop in the limo, and were lounging around the living room when they got distracted with science! I didn't bring you there."

"Only a Stark could get lucky in their own living room," he had answered her, shaking his head as if in disbelief, but he looked impressed with her scheme none the less, not to mention very amused.

This - somewhat unnecessary, it must be admitted - principle, as well as some much more practical concerns, which were truly her real reason, was what had Claire arriving before the actual party, on her own.

Because a room was hard to get, most people were in dress clothes, even though the dress code only required it for later in the night. Herself, she was in a henley and jeans, feeling a little out of place but quickly deciding to take advantage of the situation - there was no time as effective in sussing out potential business partners as when people thought you were beneath them.

Maybe they should have taken the hint, asked themselves why she was not in gala dress, perhaps even come to the conclusion that people influential enough to secure themselves rooms wouldn't be yet, but nobody did. And if there was anything Claire had learnt during the last year, it was how differently she was treated, depending on how many thousands her jewelry was, and whether or not she had one of her boys on her arm. Any of them, really, but it was especially obvious when said man had the last name Wayne or Stark.


Claire mingled with both the skill and the confidence of someone who had learnt from the best, and pretty much all of the best, at that. She was largely beyond feeling superior or inferior because of clothes, these days. She had seen enough diamonds at this point to be less self-conscious than the teenage her would have thought possible, but she toned down her smile. She'd get way more done if she played into the prejudice that she was no one important.

So she put on a shy smile to match her jeans and her braid, decorated for the day with a vintage gear, set into a comb - one of the pieces Wayne had given her.

She flickered between the groups of producers and business contacts, asking about things no one thought she knew what they meant, and wrote off anyone who wasn't still at least polite. When Tony came into a room everyone would smile and pander to him - getting honest reactions was an opportunity. Maybe she'd be recognised in her ballgown, but her face was net yet well known enough to distinguish her on its own.

She made sure to give mental gold stars to those who were kind. She had been at it for about forty five minutes when she ended up introducing herself to a man called Mortensen, who greeted her kindly.

A few minutes of small talk revealed to her that he shared a field with Wayne, but was too low profile to ever hope to gain his attention. Not that Wayne wasn't looking for good production partners.

"That's really interesting," she told the man, who had warm, smiling eyes but clearly assumed her to be as early in her career as her age would suggest. "I have a friend who is in the same sector. Not producing, he's on the other sider. I could give him your name, if you like!"

"You go ahead, dear." He was in his sixties, with a grey beard and hair, and his tone was interested, but perhaps a little amused in a kindly way, as he clearly assumed her friend to be too small a player to actually mean anything, if he even dared to reach out. Little did he know. But he was one of those genuinely nice people, and she made her mind up to give him a hand.

She walked away slowly, after a goodbye with a smile more girlish than she thought she was still capable of, wanting to hear the discussion as she left.

"Really, Mort," his colleagues commented with disdain they didn't bother to hide, "she looked like she was in college. It's not worth the time."

"There's no loss in helping out young minds, " he answered calmly. "Try it, will you." He walked away after that, and Claire had to respect his ability to make an exit. Walking on, she chuckled for herself.


Claire had joined another group, where they thought just as little of her, in the sizable room right next to the hotel lobby, when Tony finally appeared, also still in jeans. In his case, no one made any sort of similar conclusion, of course.

She walked through a throng of people who had just refused to talk to her until she could catch his eye. He waved as he saw her, making everybody around him turn almost comically fast to see who Tony Stark was looking so happy to see. She ignored them, simply stepping up to give him a hug.

"Godfather! Did you remember my dress?" She raised an eyebrow, suddenly rather confident he hadn't in fact, brought it with him.

Tony grimaced, gesturing to the valet who was making ready to show him to his room, and was holding two clothing bags. "I got the green one...?" He made another grimace, trying to look chastised but mostly appearing to try not to laugh. She gave him a harsh look in response, but couldn't help but smile either.

"Well if it helps, I brought the blue one you left at my manor last time. I think you called it a 'preference'?" Bruce Wayne had appeared by his so called rival's shoulder, smiling far too widely. Tony scoffed at him.

"The deep blue one with the turquoise details and the gold, silver and copper hem?" she questioned, and when it was met with an affirmative she reached to take his arm, pointedly telling Tony, "He's my favourite." Both billionaires laughed.

"Does that mean you're staying with him, tonight?" Tony made sure, making Wayne look rather like a hopeful puppy - a look he only ever got where Claire was concerned.

"Yes, dad, you can hunt models. I'll stay with my fiance-as-soon-as-I-let-him," Claire confirmed, waving him off. Tony winked at them, and then he was gone.

"Let's get you a key card..." Wayne bent his neck to drop a kiss to the top of her head, "and remind me to thank Clint for that title. I find it suits me." She laughed, but she loved him, really. At least she was almost there.


Claire walked through the same rooms an hour later, getting quite another welcome in a gown worth thousands of dollars and with Bruce Wayne on her arm. Most of the people she passed didn't recognise her at all, if they hadn't happened to be there when her billionaires arrived.

"Miss Thomas, did you have a deal you wanted me to make?" One of the SI executives walked up to them, letting her point out to him a few people she had selected to work with.

"Why do you not have the authority to do that yourself?" Wayne questioned after the man had gone off to do his part of their job, and they walked on slowly.

Claire shrugged. "I don't really need it, not when I work with Tony in internal R&D... and besides, if you get your way I'll soon have the last name of their main rival! It's definitely a conflict of interest." She winked at him, and then left him with a kiss to the cheek to mingle briefly while she found Mortensen again.

It didn't take her long to track him down once more, and to her delight he was yet again in the company of the same snobby people - probably because they were in the same part of the industry, if she had to guess.

"Mr Mortensen," she greeted in her enthusiastic, girlish tone from before, giving them a few seconds to recognise her before she stepped closer. "I wanted to introduce you to my friend, like I promised." The man looked more confused than encouraging, this time, but she paid it no attention.

Turning around, she waved Wayne over, calling out with a voice that held barely restrained pearls of laughter. "Wayne, sweetheart, I have someone I want you to meet!"

She turned back to the astonished group, taking Wayne's arm with the ease of habit as he immediately came to join her. "Darling, this is Mr Mortensen. We got to talking; he can help you in your, what is it, 24:th sector, I believe? We're not competitors in that branch at SI, so I'll give him to you!"

Wayne smiled, held back a laugh at all the gasps around, and reached out his hand. "Oh, yes, Mr Mortensen. My still-refuses-to-be-my-fiancée talks highly of you. Can we arrange a meeting?"

The boring mingling was so worth it. Besides - she liked the dress.