Saturday morning saw Conner and Clark both in a good mood. Clark dressed in a blue checkered button up and cardigan, with big clunky glasses. He had wisely gotten up well before Conner and by the time the teenager drifted down the hall to their tiny kitchen, bacon was already cooking. Clark handed him a hot, already sugar filled, cup of coffee with a smile.

"I thought I'd let you sleep in. When are your friends expecting to be picked up?"

Conner had never, in his life, been so happy to live with another human being.

They didn't talk much, but the morning was pleasant. Clark kept the news on in the living room, channel tuned to the Daily Planet. Back before Lex had driven Clark from Metropolis, Clark had worked there, and Conner felt a grim with a moment of clarity regarding Clark and Lex. Sometimes Lex, Conner silently turned the thought over, ruined more than just the things Conner cared about.

"Where do you work?" Conner asked from the kitchen table, pretending to ignore the TV.

"Gotham Gazette. And some freelance stuff," Clark said with an easy smile as he flipped bacon.

Conner couldn't reconcile the man before him, the man who so easily let Conner into his life, with the man who had given him up at 16. Nor could he so easily recall up the anger that he used to feel pounding in his ears when he was twelve and forced to stay with Clark for a few measly weeks of the summer. Had he been blind or stupid?

Not letting himself fall too far into that memory, Conner and Clark finished up breakfast, and went to pick up his friends.

They barely fit in Clark's Car. Stephanie, Greta, Cassie, and Jaime squeezed into the back of the sedan, and Conner sat shotgun, with Bart balancing in the small space between him and Clark. It seemed highly illegal, but Clark drove like a grandma to compensate.

Stephanie had made them pick her up at a 7-11. Greta lived in East End, and Cassie lived in the Narrows. Jaime, without a car, was happy to be picked up from his dad's garage, also in Midtown. And Bart had stayed the night with Jaime so they didn't have to waste too much extra gas.

Clark dropped them all off in the Burnley District, parking in one of the huge structures open to the public by Gotham University.

"All right folks," Clark said as they piled out of the car. He pulled out an honest to God paper map and Conner groaned. "We're here, by parking structure F. There's the Burnley Mall. If you walk east on University Street you'll be sure to hit it. And then 22nd and 23rd both are just a little north and here and are lined with more stores. Now if you want food, you'll want to head west here."

Clark had the map pressed flat on the hood of his dark blue car and earnestly showed Stephanie and the rest how to get from where they were to the nearest McDonalds.

"Clark, we have phones," Conner said, pointedly holding his up.

"Oh, right!" Clark said, and reached into his pocket to pull out a small flip phone. He opened it, pulled out its antennae, and handed it to Stephanie. "Why don't you give me your number in case you need to get picked up. I assume the boys might split for the arcade."

Conner wanted to die.

When Clark finally let up, he informed them he would be heading to the University library to get some research done for an article, and to ring him if they needed absolutely anything at all. As he walked off leaving the gangly group of teenagers to their own devices, Stephanie immediately pulled out Google Maps and plugged in the mall address.

"Your dad is really cool Conner," she said with a bit too much sincerity for Conner's heart to handle.

"Yeah, well, try living with him. We have a VCR."

The mall was delightfully just like every mall Conner had ever seen. A monument to American decadence, the pinnacle of all the things Conner loved most. Pizza, senseless fashion, and blinding lights and music so that you can't think about the money being spent. Conner felt right at home immediately.

Back when he'd lived with Lex, Conner had been denied the basic human right of going to the mall. Lex had insisted on designer boutiques, often in Europe, and tailor made clothes. Conner hadn't owned a shirt that wasn't hand sewn for him by some French artisan until he was thirteen. The mass produced, cheap, utter garbage that hung on the hangers at a mall department store simply filled Conner with a type of unwarranted nostalgia. Cheap? Yes. But it was wholly Conner's choice to dress like trash.

Stephanie, Cassie, and Greta lead the charge to the nearest store. And despite Clark's predictions to the contrary, Jaime and Bart were quite eager to accompany them.

"I need a suit or something," Bart said, looking mildly embarrassed to even admit it, "Max said he wouldn't let me wear my parachute pants to all the school dances this year. He wants photos to send to the family."

Jaime snickered.

Conner did, actually, kind of like shopping, but he'd never had the patience for it. He didn't put up a fight and let his friends lead him around the giant, dishevelled department store, admiring the shoddy clothing and poor stitchwork. They clearly weren't the only students getting ready for homecoming. Dozens of young people milled about, with parents in tow. An entire back wall was dedicated to girl's dresses.

Jaime and Bart started trying on blazers while they waited for the girls to come out of the dressing room. Jaime had agreed to take Cassie, though looking at Jaime and Bart now Conner wondered if she wouldn't be playing severe third wheel. Greta had quietly admitted to them while shopping that she had asked someone and they had said yes. None of them pried. That was something Conner quickly learned he liked about the group.

Conner wound up sitting in the chairs positioned outside the dressing room hallway, holding clothes for his friends while they played dress up.

Greta was the first to emerge, in a champagne colored greek goddess gown that made her look less like a washed out, awkward middle schooler, and far more like a ghostly waif. For the first time Conner thought Greta would be remarkably gorgeous when she got older.

It also revealed a dark purple bruise along her arm. Again, no one pried.

Cassie took a little longer. She dawdled, trying on a truly gaudy number. Bright red, down to her calf, and covered in hawaiian flowers. Conner thought it looked suitably Cassie like, but Greta sent her back to the changing room to "Try on the one I picked out for your own good."

Cassie reemerged in a shorter, much more form fitting, red lace dress, blushing bright as a tomato. In all honesty it did wonders for her. Cassie looked stunning. But it was a bit more risque than Conner though she would ever be comfortable with given her joggers and tennis shoe wardrobe.

"I can dance in it…" she offered up uncertainly.

Conner jumped up offering his hand. "Give it a twirl."

She did, and gasped. "It has a twirly skirt."

And that apparently sold her on it.

They waited around another twenty minutes for Stephanie to come out. And another ten. Then five.

"I'm getting hungry," Bart warned, as they sat outside the dressing rooms.

"Let me check on her," Cassie said.

She disappeared down the hall, and returned, shrugging. "I don't know. She says she's fine."

Before the others could say a thing, Conner stood to go check on his friend. Stephanie's dressing room was at the end of the hall. Behind a red slatted door he could hear the ruffling of fabric. Conner knocked.

" Go away, Cassie."

"It's Conner."

A pause. "And? Can't you see I'm having a meltdown, Kent?"

"Can I come in and meltdown with you?"

Another pause. Then the shuffling of fabric, and the door swung open. Stephanie stood in the unflattering light of the changing room dressed in a pale pink spaghetti strap dress with a skirt that made her look like a princess.

"You look beautiful," Conner said instinctively.

Stephanie yanked him into the changing room and closed the door.

"It's no good," she said, back to the door. She slid down to sit on the dressing room floor, and though she wasn't crying, she looked deeply distressed. Conner felt slightly cramped, but he pushed his discomfort aside and took a seat on the small bench by the mirror.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

Stephanie twisted the fabric of the skirt between her hands. "It's so...cheap."

Conner laughed, then caught himself at her glare. "Well, yeah, it's made in a sweatshop probably."

That was not the right thing to say. Stephanie's face broke, "I hate sweatshops."

"Hey, hey, hey," Conner slid down to the floor to sit beside her. He wasn't sure that the dress thing was what was actually bothering her. He's known enough troubled people in his life to know having a crisis over a cheap dress was probably not likely, least of all for someone like Stephanie, but he did his best. "We're broke high school students. No one is going to fault you a cheap dress for homecoming."

"Not even Cassandra Wayne?" She said, looking dejected.

"Is that what you're worried about?"

Stephanie avoided his eyes. Conner had never wanted for anything growing up. He'd never been without, and every time he had been, it had been of his own free will. He chose his struggles. He sometimes forgot that wasn't true for everyone.

"If she cares that much about money, she's not worth your time," Conner said.

"Ha. Me. Not worth Cassandra Wayne? Do you hear yourself? If anything I'm the one who's not stacking up I mean, who am I? I'm just some nobody. My dad's a criminal, my mom's disappeared, I'm a free-lunch program miscreant who doesn't even know what they're doing with their life."

"Nobody knows what they're doing with their life," Conner tried.

"Not the point." Stephanie sulked. "I know I'm being stupid."

"It's not stupid."

"Then what is it?"

Instead of answering, Conner checked the price tag on the dress. Forty dollars. "Are you really that worried about what she'll think of you?"

"No...maybe."

Conner looked up. Stephanie still wouldn't look at him. Her blue eyes were watery. She seemed to be struggling with herself, mouth opening and closing.

"Conner," she said at last, "if I told you something would you judge me?"

"Not in the least. Have you met me?" Conner asked.

Stephanie took a deep breath. "The reason I know Tim is because I had a baby."

Of all the things Conner had been expecting, that had been very far down on the list. "Excuse me?" then, "Not Tim's-"

"No! Not Tim's. It was stupid. I had a boyfriend and we were stupid. I wound up dating Tim and he found out, and he helped me hide it and paid for all my medical stuff. Even after we "broke up." I know we make fun of him a lot. And he is kind of an ass. But he swore to me he would keep it a secret and he did. Honestly I think dating me was more of a scandal for him than my pregnancy would have ever been for me."

Conner reeled as he tried to fit this new information into his working concept of both Tim and Stephanie. The casualness with which Tim spoke to her, and the lack of apparent bitterness on both sides over the break up fit a little more easily.

"And you're worried…" Conner said slowly, only just beginning to understand what was happening, "that Cassandra will find out?"

Stephanie winced. "Maybe? I don't know? I just know I couldn't be further from her league if I was making an effort. "

"Maybe he told her already,"

"He wouldn't do that to me." Her conviction surprised him and he filed that away as well.

"Well," Conner said, finally coming to a solid conclusion about the whole thing, "I think you're just getting jittery because of nerves. You're crazy if you think Cassandra will think anything about your past. That's your business. And if she does, she can answer to me. Aside from that, I don't know what league nonsense you're talking about, as I recall, she asked you not the other way around so how about we bail on this place and find you a dress."

Stephanie looked hesitant. "This one's fine. I just needed-"

"Nonsense." Conner said, pulling her to her feet, then leaned in conspiratorial, "Stephanie Brown, do you trust me?"

"With my life."

Stephanie played along beautifully to Conner's plan. He hadn't started the day intending to ditch his friends, but right now Stephanie was priority one. So when he came out of the dressing room with Stephanie in tow, claiming she wasn't feeling well and they were going to go find Clark, he fought off all offers of help and questions with steely resolve.

"No, you guys meet us at the food court in an hour if she's feeling better. Go have fun."

He ignored their strange looks and frowns.

Friends ditched, he led Stephanie out of the mall and down the street. He used google and a faded memory of Lex taking him shopping in Gotham once, years ago, to find the bougiest part of the shopping district. Having been trained by Lex in the art of spotting a good, expensive store, Conner led her into boutique that screamed elitism.

They were greeted at the front by a man in a suit who took one look at Conner's worn out cout and Stephanie chewed up hoodie and arched an exquisite eyebrow. His nametag read "Albertson".

Conner waved him off with his best, I'm-the-son-of-Lex-Luthor nonchalance,"My friend here is looking for something...unique."

The man still didn't seem wholly convinced by Conner's demanding tone helped. "What did you have in mind?"

"Something classy, obviously but," and here Conner held out his hand to Stephanie, "my friend likes to dance. Do you have any recommendations?"

She gave an obliging twirl and as the salesperson stalked away, Stephanie pulled Conner aside. "I don't think I can afford this."

"It's on me."

"I don't think you can afford this."

"Stephanie, if I tell you something, will you judge me?"

Stephanie looked at him quizzically, but shook her head.

"I'm the son of Lex Luthor."

"And I'm the daughter of Steve Jobs."

Conner rolled his eyes and dragged her into the store. She didn't ask anymore questions, however, so he considered it a win.

It was a super ritzy place, with designer gowns and men's suits. But very small. The room was the size of Connor's apartment, and most of the stock was kept in storage out of sight. There were three, large, mirrored stations with raised platforms where buyers could be fitted, and Conner led Stephanie to one, before taking a seat in the surrounding armchairs.

The atmosphere was a world away from the brightly lit department store.

The salesman emerged carrying two or three dresses for Stephanie to try on. Stephanie spent a good minute just running her hands over the soft fabric before disappearing into the back to get changed.

The first dress had a deep red, glittering skirt and black top. Stephanie twirled, and then forced Conner to help her do a brief Cotton-Eye Joe routine to ensure it's danceability.

The salesman seemed to be equal parts amused and irritated by them. Though Conner probably looked like every rebellious rich kid ever, he had to guess the clientele for the place was usually older.

Stephanie, for her part, was delighted by each dress she tried. As Stephanie twirled in a beautiful grey dress adorned with silver beading. Even the sales associate seemed pleased, "You look quite lovely," he said, charmed by her giddiness despite himself.

And then Conner heard a knock. He turned. Standing outside the boutique window Jason Todd Wayne grinned at him. And, tailing him with a scowl, was Timothy Drake Wayne. They walked into the store, and the salesman teetered on over.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Todd."

"Hey there Albertson," Jason said, "And why if it isn't Conner fucking Kent. What are you doing in this trash heap?"

Conner definitely was beginning to appreciate Jason, "Getting Stephanie fully outfitted for homecoming."

"Well wouldn't you know it," Jason said, "We're here to get Timmy dressed for homecoming too. It'll be a party. Albertson, go! Steph you look great."

Jason shooed him away and Albertson glared, but clearly knew when he was outclassed money wise. He vanished to go get some suits and the four stood around awkwardly. Tim stared at the ground, apparently determined not to greet any of them, and Jason kicked up his feet in a chair.

"I think I'd like to try on the last one," Stephanie said softly, eyes shining with worry, but Conner waved her off with a reassuring smile.

Stephanie disappeared into the changing room. Albertson came back, handed Tim something very expensive looking, and Tim also disappeared. As soon as the other two were gone Jason leaned over. Conner got a whiff of cigarette smoke and cologne.

"Hey," Jason said, "You want to piss off Tim?"

Conner very much considered pissing off Tim a valuable investment of both his time and energy. "More than anything."

Jason grinned, and yanked Conner out of his chair. Conner found himself squeezed into the cubicle like space of changing room for the second time that day, this time with less pleasant company.

"What are you-"

"Shh," Jason said, barely restraining a cackle, "Trade clothes with me."

The idea was childish enough to warrant an eye roll, so obviously Conner felt it was a delightful idea. They elbowed each other in the tight space as they tried to quietly but quickly swap shirts and jeans. When they got down to the jackets, Jason insisted, "Those too."

Conner loved his jacket. It had been a gift. It was precious to him. Jason Todd gave him the most shit eating grin he had seen in his life, and Conner was a sucker for trouble.

Jason's clothes, minus the jacket, were very much designer. The shirt was a tight fit, stretching across Conner's chest just enough to be uncomfortable, and the jeans weren't keeping any secrets from the world either. Still, they were remarkably comfy.

By the time they succeeded and stumbled out giggling like mad men, both Stephanie and Tim were waiting. Stephanie in an elegant pink silk dress and Tim in a suit that looked like it walked out of a red carpet shoot. Stephanie sent Conner a look of intense curiosity, and Tim looked livid.

"Are you two quite done being idiots? It's embarrassing." He said, adjusting his cuffs and scowling.

"Aw don't be like that Timbo," Jason said, wrapping an arm around Conner's shoulders with the grace and predatory nature of a cat. Conner felt himself pressed closely against the other boy and could feel the barely restrained laughter rumbling through his body. "Conner and I just wanted to have a little fun."

It was only now under the gaze of the others that Conner realized what Jason was trying to pull and turned beet red. Tim jumped down from his platform.

"Albertson," he called across the store. "It fits beautifully. We won't be needing anymore adjustments. Jason can we go?"

Tim sounded genuinely distressed and Conner almost felt bad if it weren't for the discrete thumbs up Jason handed him as Tim stormed into the dressing room to change.

"And you look stunning, Stephanie. Honestly you should only wear tens of thousands of dollars of silk, in my opinion. Anything less is insulting." Jason held out a hand to help her down, which she accepted gratefully.

"It's not, really going to cost that much, is it?"

"Don't worry about it," Conner said.

Stephanie still looked concerned, but Jason turned to look at him with a calculating gaze that Conner felt was more appropriate for the likes of Tim. It vanished quickly, however.

Tim and Jason checked out while Stephanie changed into her street clothes. Tim refused to even look at them, and seemed in quite a hurry to leave. As they walked out the door, Jason called over his shoulder.

"You look good in that jacket."

"Yeah, well I expect mine back on Monday."

Jason just laughed.

Stephanie and Conner returned to their friends after paying for her new dress. Conner had only had to tell Albertson it was a gift, and the man had been happy to hide the price from Stephanie. Stephanie pouted, and Conner used the card Lex Luthor had given him ages ago. If the name on the card struck Albertson as odd, he didn't say such, and instead wished them a warm goodbye.

Conner did not like using Lex's money, but seeing as he had to miss homecoming for the asshole, he thought one dress was the least the man could do.

Stephanie shook her head as they left the store. "You must be the son of Lex Luthor."

"I told you."

"You're gonna give me the full story then?"

"Later," he said.

As they came up on the Food Court in the Burnley Mall, they saw their friends waving. And they had company. A girl with long, silver hair, and a more tomboy-ish girl, sat at the table with Cassie, Greta, Bart, and Jaime.

"Guys, guys, this is Maps! She goes to Gotham Academy!" Bart said, waving to the younger of the two girls as Conner and Stephanie approached.

Maps dressed like a tomboy, with a visor hat and short choppy hair. She also blushed and looked immediately abashed at being called out so openly.

"And this is her friend Olive."

Olive was gorgeous, with silver white hair and Amber eyes. Wayne level gorgeous. She seemed sullen, however, and let Maps do all the introductions.

"Gotham Academy, huh?" Stephanie said. "I think we're playing you guys for the homecoming game."

"Heh, yeah," Maps said.

"Maps was just inviting us to their D&D group," Bart said earnestly, "I said you guys would be down."

"Totally," Stephanie said.

Apparently, Jaime told them, Maps and Olive had been at the mall preparing for their homecoming dance, and Bart and Maps had eagerly jumped into an extended conversation after discovering both with monumental nerds. Not wanting to lose their new friends, and having not heard back from Stephanie or Conner yet, they had invited the two to join them for dinner. Olive looked less than enthused, but Maps beaming face more than made up for it.

The group started jokingly tossing out ideas for a Dungeons & Dragons campaign, while Maps interjected to correct Bart's terrible understanding of the core rules. They decided to eat at the food court, and the group started splitting up to buy food. Stephanie and Bart went to Subway, Cassie and Greta checked out the ice-cream place, and Bart immediately latched upon the Chipotle.

Conner for his part wound up talking with Maps and Olive as they stood in line at the only burger joint in the mall. The line extended well past the belt barriers put up to maintain order, and seemed to be moving at a crawl.

"If you guys really want to play, you could come visit me at Gotham Academy," Maps said eagerly.

Conner, personally was torn. D&D sounded an awful lot like something Clark would think was cool, which made it lame.

"Maps, don't just invite people to the dorms," Olive said, looking a bit like a concerned older sister.

"It's fine, Olive," Maps pouted.

"She's right," Conner said, thinking back on his wild few weeks in Gotham, "Gotham is kind of crazy dangerous."

Apparently this was the wrong this to say, because Olive groaned as Maps gasped.

"Do you know ?"

"Excuse me?"

The line shuffled forward, incrementally, and Maps paid it zero attention, "About the creepy stuff in Gotham."

"What sort of stuff?" Conner asked with a smile. He felt a bit like he was indulging a hyperactive kid.

"The vampires."

Olive groaned again. "I will have nothing to do with this."

"You're no fun," Maps said, then turned back to Conner her captive audience, "Gotham was founded by an ancient family of vampires, and they haunt the streets to this day."

"How do you know?" Conner asked.

"Have you heard of the Bat?" Maps asked.

At Conner's negative, she eagerly shoved her phone in his face. " Google it. He's been spotted everywhere. He's a seven foot tall vampire who haunts crime alley. And Gotham PD has started uncovering blood drained bodies. Did you hear about the man in the park?"

"Which park?" Conner said, feeling a sense of unease settle in his stomach.

"Robinson Park. It was some homeless guy."

"And you think vampires did it?"

"Who else drains a body of blood? And I know who the Bat is too!"

"Who?" Conner asked, feeling like he might be buying into it a bit too much.

"Bruce Wayne."

"Seriously, Maps, I'm on a Wayne Foundation Scholarship, do you really think telling everyone they're vampires is a good idea?" Olive asked.

It was clear the two had been talking about this for a long time. Maps pouted. "I'll prove it. You'll see. That entire family is a bunch of bloodsuckers."

Olive seemed amused by this sentiment, but before anything else could be said, the cashier called for the next customer.

As Olive ordered, Conner turned to Maps, "What makes you think the Waynes are vampires?"

She grinned up at him. "If you give me your number, I can send you the links."