A/N: :) Song excerpt is from the Osmond Brothers. Mostly.

Chapter Four: Party Plans

.

...Oh, yeah, and need I say,
I can`t break away
You control every
Little thing I do

I used to be a swinger
Til you wrapped me
Round your finger.

Just like a yo-yo..

up and down with plaster dough...

"So, Master Pennysworth," a cheerful Wally stopped super-speed humming under his breath in order to address his newest mentor as he loaded a trowel with more fresh plaster, "this shindig Bruce is going to host...is it a big deal or what?" His supervisor looked on as the speedster's blurred image ran back up the ladder to apply the paste over the cracks he'd accidentally made to the Wayne ceiling, used his super speed to hand blow dry the latest layer, then race back down to repeat the actions. "Just like a yo-yo..."

Before Alfred could haughtily respond that the Wayne Estate did not host shindigs of any size deal, he was interrupted by Tim. The boy was near the door keeping an eye out for any sign of Bruce. (Drake had opted for guard duty as opposed to holding the ladder steady as it provided him with an excuse to 'help' (as well as spy for Nightwing) while still keeping a safe distance from the 'quick' repair job. One wayward splat of plaster puddy in his hair courtesy of Wally's first attempt had been enough, thank you ever so much.)

"You could say that, Wally, but I wouldn't use that particular phrase. The Founders Financial Network was started by Wayne Technologies. Businessmen from successful corporations who donate large sums to non-profit organizations such as orphanages and hospices. They come to schmooze-"

"Converse is the proper word, Master Timmy Tyke."

"-right..." (Tim forced his eyes not to roll at Wally's sucking up before the presence of Alfred) "converse and write fat checks to whomever is deemed the most worthy. Bruce hosts it every year."

"Well, I can't do the fat checks part unless you don't mind them bouncing like rubber balls, but schmoozing-or conversing-sounds right up my alley," Wally grinned. The hand holding the trowel tilted a degree too much. "Oops." He ran down to intercept an errant glop before it could hit Alfred on his bare pate.

Tim gaped. "Hey, how come you didn't catch it when-?"

""Well, you're shorter than any of us plus you're a Bat Kiddie, Master Tiny Tim," Wally reasoned. "I figured that being the case you'd have had more time and dexterity to evade it." Drake opened his mouth again, but only some indignant sputters spilled forth. Wally didn't miss the small tug on Alfred's mouth that bespoke of the butler's urge to smile.

Success!

"Nevertheless, the next time such a disaster of any proportion ensues I suggest you don't make the assumption that Master Tiny Ti-Master Timothy-" Alfred quickly corrected, "is as fast as you are. Also that you endeavor to remember his correct title."

"Discounting the Robin the Boy Wonder one when not in the company of Batz?"

"Indeed."

Twice almost a smile there, Alfie-and a slip on the ice. Score one and one-half points for The Fastest Man Alive!

Hiding a grin, Wally finished up the repair job-receiving Alfred's okay that it was quite acceptable-then whisked everything back to the maintenance hut that Bruce kept in the back of his property. (It was rather unnerving that the shed was larger and better constructed than most of the apartments he'd rented over the years, but Batz was a billionaire. Not even an upgraded Tuff Shed would be good enough to shelter a Batman broom.) "Well, that's done," Wally declared, clapping the non-existent dust from his hands. "Now, what am I going to be doing?"

"Reinforcing the bolts in the bed you used as a trampoline on your way to breakfast yesterday morning," was the butler's rather pointed reply.

"Yeah... I mean no...well, not no-because I'll get to that, I promise...I'm talking about the party", the speedster clarified. He was now openly grinning like a loon, his eyes gleaming with the possibilities of both being useful and having fun. (Wally was very keen on parties. Lots of food, music, dancing with gorgeous people. Motion & Munchies-what was not to love about a party?) "You need a deejay? A bartender? Server? I've got recording of all the latest soundtrack hits, can make a mean orange punch with or without the 'jet fuel' ifyouknowwhatImean, whip out platters of a dozen pretzel sandwich appetizer recipes alone, then-"

"No doubt all within the blink of an eye," Alfred interrupted the spiel, "however, you, Mr. West, are going to remain well out of sight."

Wally's grin fell like Superman in the presence of green kryptonite while holding tightly to a wrecking ball. "But...You're kidding me, right? I'm the Fastest Manservant Alive; plus, I have experience with parties-vast experience!" Wally disappeared then reappeared, arms laden with plastic bags and a photo album. He placed the book in Alfred's hands then zipped around the room, changing the decor even as he helpfully flipped to certain pages for the butler to illustrate his point. "Lookeehere-I've helped set up birthday parties..." zoom/flip "anniversaries..." zoom/flip "stag parties" zoom/flip "man,Bunnysurewashotinthatskimpy...yeah!" zoom/flip "pity parties..." zoom/flip "bar mitzvahs..." zoom/flip "-well,okay,thatlastdidn'tgososwell...nevermind-I can set room decorations, the table settings, and/or serve the food quicker than anyone this side of the universe!"

With one hand Alfred steadied the priceless vase Wally's running about had nearly toppled over as he walked forward to study one of the shopping bags that were now littering the floor-studiously ignoring for now the spiderwebs of crepe paper hanging from the chandeliers or "Pin The Tail On The Donkey" poster taped over a priceless oil painting. "Yes; however, this is a high-classed, white-tie function, not high school hootenanny or..." he sniffed at the names on the plastic carry-alls "a kiddie carnival. Discount Dollar crepe paper with Funtime party hats, favors and...and...a free Wind-Up Chattering Teeth with every purchase of Birthday Bash Blaster 10,000 Animal Balloons N' A Bag?" He let the plastic container drop back to the floor with a look of distaste. "These will not do; nor are we wanting to be advertising The Flash as employee or attendee. Not to belittle your progress, Mr. West, but you are still very much in the novice training stage...and heaven forbid that Master Bruce should spot you during the party in any capacity. I'm afraid that for the duration I am ordering you to remain in your room." So I can have a hope in hell of saving my sanity and the Wayne's gala event.

"Really, Master Drake, let us not add potential child corruption charges to the endangerment ones already violated." Alfred pulled the photo book out of Tim's hands before the minor could find the 'stag' section and left with the inappropriate contraband.

"Oh," The specialized balloon Wally had been clandestinely blowing up slipped from his fingers allowing the escaping air to chorus his feelings exactly, "...raspberries."

"Bad luck, Wally."

"You've no idea." Bunny's personal phone number was in there.

Bruce strolled through his study. He glanced up and noted that Alfred had already seen to repairing the ceiling. Good old Alfred was always so efficient at keeping the manor in an excellent shape and so pristine. Well...usually, pristine. Having spotted an object lying behind a potted plant, he gingerly picked it up. "Acme whoopie cushion?"

No doubt about it...Tim had been spending entirely too much time around Wally.

Speaking of whom, the Scarlet Menace was still missing in action. He really needed to look into...? Into...what? Oh yes, his newest Bat gear. That was it. Flash was fine.

Up in the Watchtower, J'onn J'onzz let out an imperceptible sigh of relief. If he'd known beforehand just how much Bruce thought about the Flash (in the capacity of a potential and ongoing menace), he'd never have accepted Nightwing's bribe of chocos for this. It was truly what the humans referred to as a 24/7 job.

"This blows," a morose Wally declared as he snatched up another balloon. "This blows..." a vague animal form seemed to take shape within his hands as if by magic "...horseys." He added the equine to his 'herd' of bulbous stallions. It was just one of many steadily growing zoological piles taking up space in his room.

Since the party things couldn't be returned, he and Tim were making use of them to while away some free time before lunch. They were putting together balloon animals to give to however many orphanage kids Wally could secret them to during his coming lunch break. Nets of crepe paper were keeping most of the zoological wonders from taking over the floor, but his bed and desk had already been overrun by the things.

Or at least Wally was making them. Tim was staring with equal unhappiness at the one and same balloon he'd had in his hand as if he had no idea what it was for. Of course, his glum expression was directly tied to the animals being his idea: an effort to take Wally's mind off of Alfred's nixing his being at the party at all...as well as something about the loss of a rabbit. "Yeah, but you really aren't ready for that kind of thing. You've only been in training for...what...two months?" The Batman assistant who could outsmart super villains and work advanced technology tentatively attempted to inflate his own balloon for the third time. It refused to cooperate. Must be some kind of trick to this.

"Over a week."

"Really? Feels like it's been two months." Tim mumbled. He tried to blow up the balloon again...to no avail. Hopefully one of the kids would be thrilled to receive a balloon-animal Stylommatophora [terrestrial slug] that had died as road kill.

"Would you get serious?" Wally (who, it must be said, was currently modeling a gag arrow-through-the-head) glared at him; snatched up the balloon and used super speed to stretch it out then inflated it, twisted the end, tied a knot, repeated this several more times and flung it and fifteen more multi-colored giraffes and one platypus to his growing menagerie all before Tim could blink.

"Okay, Mr. Noah, so I'm lousy at polymeric animal husbandry. You forget who I work with. Not like there's much call in creating balloon animals when fighting against people like Scarecrow or the Toy Man. Usually if I have to deal with the things it's because I'm trying to pop my way out giant ones filled with nitrous oxide."

"Lucky you. The Trickster likes to fill his with swamp gas." Wally set down his bag of balloons. "Sorry, Master Timothy, guess I'm just feeling a bit...useless. To be honest I've not exactly had much practice with...with rich stuff. Except for desserts...eating them." He frowned. "You know, I can't see how hard it could be to just serve drinks and appetizers. Should be no more difficult than handing out beers during a hockey game."

Tim picked up a balloon animal, wondering vaguely what kind of kid Wally thought would appreciate a rainbow-hued squid. Maybe Tempest? He settled for amusing himself with winding up the plastic dentures-on-feet for a short stroll. "It's not hard. Although you do have to be able to restrain yourself from eating the food meant for the guests and some of the invitees are kind of snotty, I think Alfred's main point was that Bruce would recognize your infamous self and get a bit...disgruntled."

"You mean he'd pitch a Goddamn Batman R-rated episode ballistic enough to trigger the Omega Alert on the Watchtower, then torture us with insidious Bat devices as soon as the capes were clear." Wally nudged a balloon ostrich out of the way before it risked a one-legged life thanks to the rampaging teeth. A heroes work is never done.

"Language," Tim tsked at him.

"Nope, it's even in the JLA/Batman Codebook." Before Tim could work out a reply, Wally continued on:

"I suppose I do have that sort of face people remember. I'm pretty distinctive-ish." Wally spotted a pair of spring-propelled googly-eyed plastic eye wear and smirked, trying it on. He then choose one of the party hats-polka dotted clown hat with a plastic filament wig sewn onto the base. He grinned as inspiration struck. Putting on the hat, he arranged the neon purple 'hair' so that it fell over his own ginger hues in a garish contrast. "But...what if I blended in?"

(He was also still wearing that arrow.)

Tim stared at him. "That's a joke, right?"

"I don't get it. There's a bunch of makeup and and assorted masquerade stuff down in the Batcave," Tim felt the need to be pointed out. "Bruce uses it all the time for undercover work when he's not being Batman. Why not just borrow some of it?"

"Subtlety, Master Tiny Tim...subtlety with a fiver for a bottle of cheap washes-out hair dye and the lowest-level reading glasses at The Inflated Dollar Store." Wally finished combing back his temporarily jet black hair, slipped on the glasses...then messed up his bangs a bit. (Hair-as far as he was concerned-was not meant to be slicked back in a cage of oily goop. It was supposed to be wild and free to catch the wind. Man, he missed his old Kid Flash suit. Unfortunately, having to take the time to dye and later un-dye his natural and highly distinctive hair color every time he heard a cry of distress had proven financially as well as temporally unfeasible.) "If Clark can get away with going ultra basic in camouflage, why not me?"

Tim snorted. "Who says Clark gets away with it? Everyone just humors him like they do with the Green Arrow and his mustache and goatee." They both giggled at Ollie Queen's naivety.

"Flash Quiz: If you were Bruce and you thought that Wally West was going to try to put something past you, would you imagine he'd do something outrageously outlandish or something simple?" Wally asked him.

"Outrageously..." Tim immediately started to answer, then sighed in agreement that his friend had a point. " Yeah, I get it. Counter sneakiness is not your usual style."

"Darn right it isn't. But I'm taking a page off of Batz sneakiness manual and acting contrary." He gave himself four last checks in the mirror.

Because you never acted contrary before this? "Do you still have that fake arrow?" Tim asked.

Wally paused as he glanced back at his cohort with a puzzled frown. "Yeah. Why?"

"Because Ollie Queen will also be there. If this goes sour, we may need it to fake your death and pin the rap on him because everyone knows Green Arrow hates you ever since you kissed Dinah at the last Christmas party."

"Yo-I was drunk, there was mistletoe involved along with a hot babe who was just standing there..."

"-Waiting for Ollie to get his rear in gear."

Wally huffed. "Was it my fault he was slower to assess the situation?" Wally considered the plausibility of GA's potential for homicidal rage and had to admit that Tim's idea had some merit. "Always thinking one step ahead, are we?"

Tim shrugged. "I can't help making contingency plans. It's a Bat Kid thing."

"Compulsive behavior excuses ready to fire off at a moment's notice. You're the best little acolyte I've ever had. A strip off the old spandex." He struck his chest. There was a muffled squeaky noise.

"What was that?"

Wally placed a protective hand over the area. "Merely my stomach protesting it's emptiness. I was denied fudge earlier. Bound to generate some gastrointestinal angst."

"As a squeak instead of a grumble?"

"So? Maybe we're feeling high strung today."

"Just remember...I'm the innocent kid in all of this."

A/N: I had to rewrite this three times. Three! Browser would freeze every time and not let me hist save.