Elle handed Dick the box from her luggage. "I know it is early yet, but I'd like to see if the costume fits you. I'm hoping this is your size. I warn you, though, it isn't very good quality. I would have bought you something online, but I wouldn't have been able to get it in time. Just tell me if it will do."

"At this rate, I suppose it will have to do," Dick said. It was only a few hours until they would need to leave.

"I want to see it on you first," she winked at him. "I'm pretty sure that you can make anything look great!"

Dick laughed, taking the costume into his room to change.

"Alfred? Where's Bruce?" Dick poked his head into the kitchen twenty minutes later.

Alfred turned from where he was marinating the chicken for dinner. It was more the sound of Dick's quiet desperation than the question itself that had him doing a visual check on his charge, but all he could see was the young master's head and the edge of his bathrobe.

"Is there a problem that I might help you with, Master Richard," Alfred inquired. There certainly sounded like there was a problem.

"No, no, nothing you can help with," Dick assured him quickly. "I just need to speak to Bruce. I-It's kind of important."

Again, the measured panic that was the undertone of his words had Alfred moving towards the young man. To his astonishment, however, Dick moved back until only the edge of his face was visible.

"I see." Although, he really didn't. Alfred answered anyway. "I do believe Master Wayne is in his study. Are you certain that I cannot . . ."

"Yep, I'm sure, Alfred," Dick interrupted. "Thanks!"

He left so fast that the door continued swinging after he was gone. Alfred stared at the door for a long moment before he reluctantly returned to his dinner preparations, but Master Richard's reaction had bothered him.

Dick walked into the study quietly, shutting the previously open door behind him. He didn't want any interruptions.

"Bruce?"

Bruce might have taken the day off from the office but seldom did his work stay behind. As usual, it followed him home. He glanced up from his reports, startled to see Dick standing before him in his dressing gown, one that covered him from neck to mid-calf. Dick was clutching the neck of the robe closed with one hand.

"What's up, chum?"

"Bruce?" The control Dick had managed to exert over his panic wavered dangerously. "I need to borrow one of your Bat suits."

Bruce blinked. "What?" He checked to verify the door to the study was closed.

"Please, Bruce." Dick winced, hearing the desperation in his voice. "I need to borrow one of your Bat suits - just for tonight!"

"I thought that was what you said," Bruce frowned. "I thought you were going to Elle's party tonight."

"I am," Dick confirmed.

"If you planned a patrol afterwards, I would have expected you to have brought your own 'suit' with you."

"No. It's not for patrol." Dick stepped closer as if that might make Bruce more inclined to grant his request.

Bruce leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in that way he had that always made Dick feel like he was in trouble. "I think you better explain, chum."

Dick sighed. "Elle rented a costume for me to wear. Let's just say that it isn't suitable for public consumption and leave it at that."

"Wait. Let me get this straight." Bruce leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. He lowered his voice as he asked, "You want to wear a Bat suit to this Halloween party? A real Batman suit?" His eyes flitted back to the closed door.

Dick frowned at him. "Unless you have a Superman costume stashed somewhere then, yes, that's what I want!"

"Impossible!" Bruce narrowed his eyes. Was Dick sweating? It wasn't that hot in here.

"Bruce, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation here," Dick argued. "Elle rented me a Batman costume to wear. Apparently, this party is themed and I have to go as a superhero. You heard her the other night. No one will be admitted without a costume! I cannot go in the one she provided. It-it doesn't fit properly and its quality is . . . um, questionable at best. I need to borrow a Batman costume if I am to take her tonight."

Bruce was already shaking his head. "No. I'm sorry, chum. I can't have my son showing up at a party wearing an actual Batman suit. I think you can understand why - even an imbecile would be able to figure out that one of us is Batman from that one glaring clue!"

"Bruce, please! It doesn't have to be a current one." Dick was begging. He was actually begging! "Let me use one of the older suits, like the one from eight years ago - no, ten! Ten years ago!"

"It's too dangerous."

"Bruce . . ."

"Dick, enough!" Bruce yelled, slamming his hands down on top of his desk.

Dick's face flamed red as his desperation morphed into anger. In any other situation, he would have agreed with his mentor and let it go, but this was different. Unable to come up with another viable argument without a visual, Dick yanked off his bathrobe, throwing it across the desk. Jerking the cowl over his face, Dick stood before the man he thought of as a father with his arms extended for full dramatic effect.

Bruce's eyes widened, one hand making its way up to cover his gaping mouth. After a long moment, he spun his chair to face the wall and away from the sight of his son in what had to be the absolute worst Batman costume of all time.

"Are you laughing at me?" Dick accused him, boggling at the idea. "You are laughing, aren't you? Of course, you're laughing – Look at me!"

Turning back around to face him, Bruce was pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to help him regain control of his emotions. The man's shoulders were shaking and – Dick stared. Were those tears sliding down his face? Suddenly, Bruce's other hand came up from his lap, holding his cell phone.

SNAP!

Dick's shoulders slumped as he let his arms drop down to his sides. "That's your answer? Taking a picture of me at my lowest moment . . .?"

"A-at least y-your (snicker) face is covered . . ." Bruce gasped as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

If you can call it that, Dick thought grimly to himself. His cowl, cape, gloves, and boot spats – Yes! Boot spats! - were made of cheap Naugahyde. He hadn't even realized that they made naugahyde anymore. The rest of the costume was one piece and made of polyester/spandex blend, the quality of which had become glaringly clear when Dick's fingers had torn through the material as he forced the costume's leg over his upper thigh, leaving a large hole with an even larger run down the two-thirds of his leg.

The run might not have happened had the costume fit properly, but no . . . Its worst feature wasn't the cheap, lemon-yellow, plastic, utility belt, nor the slightly lopsided bat symbol plastered off-centered across his chest, nor was it even the hot, stiff, ill-fitting pleather that made up the cape and cowl. No, the worst feature of the costume stemmed from the fact that it had been made for a man who had never darkened the door of a gymnasium in his life. Easily two sizes too small, to say that the costume was too tight would have been an understatement.

It was obscene!

The crotch rode up, leaving nothing to the imagination. In fact, the costume seemed to rejoice in the fact that Dick was male and wanted the world to know. His nipples showed through the material, for God's sake! The outfit might have been able to redeem itself had the knee-length cape been large enough to hide the costume's shortcomings but, alas, that was not to be. Dick had tried pulling it forward but this only seemed to make his junk all the more obvious. It was as if the cape was meant to frame his groin for onlookers.

The cowl was just as small as the rest of the costume. Maybe if Dick had been bald it might have fit better but, as it was, the cowl didn't reach the tip of his nose. While the eyeholes were large, they rested too high up. Dick couldn't see anything below the waist. If he looked down, the mask rode higher still until the eye holes were sitting over his forehead.

He glared at Bruce. "You would send me, whom you claim to love as a son, out in public wearing this - this ridiculous thing?"

"Dick . . ." Bruce was unable to complete the sentence.

He was laughing openly now, not even attempting to hide his amusement from the younger man. Unable to catch his breath enough to speak, Bruce thought the Joker wouldn't need a serum if he only had this costume. People would laugh themselves to death without the benefit of chemicals or poisonous gases. Bruce snorted as that thought sent him reeling into another spasm of hilarity.

A crash of the door into the wall as it was thrown open was the only warning the two men had as Tim and Damian both burst into the room.

"Bruce!"

"Father!"

Whatever the argument had been was immediately forgotten as Tim slid to a stunned halt upon sighting Dick. Damian slammed into his brother's back, grunting on impact.

"Damn it, Drake!" Damian yelped, shoving the older boy aside. He stopped, scowling, as he took in the tableau in front of them.

Bursting into laughter, Tim bent over, holding his sides.

"Grayson, what the hell . . . ?"

If anyone thought to correct Damian's language, they wouldn't have been able to manage it through the paroxysms of uncontrollable mirth.

"Oh, this is just great. Fantastic," Dick grumbled sarcastically. He threw his arms up in frustration only to hear ripping sounds loud enough to drown out Tim's guffaws. Bruce's own laughter disintegrated into wheezing.

Dick stared in disbelief at the two gaping holes that had suddenly appeared underneath his armpits.

SNAP!

SNAP!

Dick's head swiveled at the sound. Tim and Damian stood gazing down at the pictures they had just taken with their own phones. Weak from laughter, Tim collapsed on the couch as Damian snorted with his own repressed laughter.

"Grayson, take that off! You look ridiculous," Damian complained as he snapped another picture. "I swear, if you attempt to walk out that front door wearing that hideous monstrosity, I will seriously have to kill you."

"Oh," Alfred breathed from the doorway, "My word . . ." The butler had only been following the sounds of mayhem in an attempt to catch the boys before they interrupted. The manservant had assumed the men were in the midst of a serious conversation. He had been unprepared, however, for the scene playing out in front of him.

Dick shoved the cowl off of his head. He couldn't see with it on, anyway. He was only missing one final ingredient for his humiliation to be complete. Turning back to the desk, Dick noted that Bruce, at least, was slowly regaining control of himself. He waited impatiently as the older man wiped at his streaming face with the back of his sleeve.

The gasp from the doorway caused everyone to turn in surprise.

Elle ground to a halt beside the stunned butler, shocked. The humor of the situation was lost on her, however, as she watched the man she was falling in love with being ridiculed by his family because he was wearing that terrible costume she had bought for him. She covered her mouth with a hand, embarrassed and horrified by what her bad decision had wrought.

Her heart broke when Dick's blush deepened at the sight of her.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," she whispered. Louder, "Dick, I am so, so sorry! I should have known. I mean, I saw how awful it was, but I thought that maybe it wouldn't look that bad on you . . . I looked everywhere," she tried to explain. "I searched and searched, but I couldn't find anything suitable that would have gotten here by this weekend."

She walked into the room, stopping in front of him. "You can't wear that," she told him, shaking her head. "Please. Take it off." Turning to his brothers, she chided them. "Please, don't laugh at him. This is my fault."

Pulling out her own phone, Elle began to text.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked.

"I'm sending my regrets," she explained as she typed. "You can't wear that costume out, and I refuse to go to the party without you."

Dick frowned, grasping her hand before she could send the text. "But, you were so looking forward to this. The producers were going to hear you sing tonight."

She sighed, shaking her head. "It's alright. There will be other opportunities," she told him. "I refuse to go without you." she might have been willing to go alone a few weeks ago, but not now.

"Elle, honey, . . ." Dick began.

"Dick, stop," she told him. "If you don't go, I won't go."

"You can both go," Bruce interrupted. "I had a Batman costume made up for a masquerade party several years ago. I ended up not going, but I remember I had put some effort and a boatload of money into it. It seems a shame to let it continue to collect dust when Dick could just as easily wear it to your party tonight. I would have made the offer sooner had I known."

That last sentence was meant for Dick as an apology. The lengths that his son was obviously willing to go to please this woman spoke volumes and the young woman's willingness to give up something so important to her for his sake impressed him. Perhaps, if the suit was from a decade ago . . .

"Really?" Dick glanced at Bruce in surprise. He hadn't actually expected the man to change his mind after so vehemently refusing only minutes ago.

"Really, chum," Bruce assured him with a relaxed smile. "Alfred, if you would be so kind as to retrieve the costume, we might still save the Batman's reputation, not to mention Dick's dignity."

Alfred smiled. "Of course. Very good, sir. Master Richard, I will lay out the costume in your room shortly," he announced before leaving the room.

Elle walked around the desk to where Bruce still sat and, leaning down, she kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you so much," she said sincerely.

"You're most welcome, but I think we can all agree that it was a necessary decision in light of the situation," he told her.

Moving back to stand in front of Dick, Elle slid her arms around his neck. "You were willing to be embarrassed for my sake and that gesture means a lot to me. Although, I would never ask it of you, I thank you all the same." Before he could reply, she raised up on her tiptoes and kissed him quite deliberately on the mouth. "You, Dick Grayson, are the best man I have ever known."

Stunning the room to silence, Elle turned on her heel and walked out, leaving Dick and everyone else to stare after her.

"Hmph, maybe she's not so bad, after all," Damian mused then, glancing back at Grayson, he frowned. "Now, take that ridiculous thing off immediately and burn it."

Tim shook his head in awe. "One of these days, Dick, you are going to have to explain to me how it is you get so lucky."

Dick was standing in the foyer with Bruce, Tim, and Damian as they waited for Elle to come down. He wore the Batman suit From a decade ago, this one having a dark gray body with a deep blue/black cape and cowl, boots and gauntlets. He had carefully emptied the utility belt of all but a couple of batarangs. Bad enough, he would be going to a Halloween party in an authentic Bat suit, he didn't need to have to explain how he was carrying all the gadgets and equipment Batman was known for as well.

"Thank you again," he told Bruce for the third time. "I would never have asked if I had been able to think of another solution."

"You're welcome, chum." Bruce laid a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Although, I must say this feels strange being on this side of the cowl," he told him, smirking.

"I'm surprised Bruce had one that fit you. He's a lot bigger than you are," Tim pointed out.

This was true, but Bruce wasn't quite as bulky ten years ago as he was now. Alfred was able to make a few adjustments to the uniform to better accommodate the younger man's leaner form.

"Do you think that anyone will realize that he's wearing the real thing," Tim asked.

Dick shrugged, grinning. "There has to be some benefit from being the son of a billionaire. You'd think with all Bruce's money, people would realize he could easily just rent one of the Batman's costumes for a party."

"I don't like it," Damian muttered. "Batman doesn't go to stupid Halloween parties."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm not Batman, eh, Dami," Dick smiled. "Seriously, though, how do you move in this thing, Bruce? It weighs a ton!" Dick held up the edge of the cape.

"Hm, You should be grateful I didn't give you my current suit, then. The additional armor adds another forty pounds to what that one weighs," Bruce reminded him.

"I wouldn't be able to move, let alone fight," Dick marveled again at how strong Bruce was to be capable and effective as Batman all while carrying an extra seventy-five pounds. Batman's cape was far too cumbersome for Dick to be able to flip and move about easily. This was the main reason why he got rid of the cape when he took on the Nightwing persona.

Tim mused. "Batman's style of fighting is far more grounded than Nightwing's. Maybe that's why you don't see him flipping all over the place all the time."

Bruce smiled, ruffling Tim's hair like he was a child rather than a young man of eighteen. "That pretty much sums it up, kiddo."

Dick smiled. "That's simplifying it, Tim. You may not realize it, but Bruce can keep up with me when he puts his mind to it."

Damian tsked. "Of course he can." To the eleven-year-old, his father could do anything.

"You give me a lot of credit, chum," Bruce told him. "But the truth is, I wouldn't even try. You're in a class all by yourself."

Dick stared at him, stunned at the offhanded compliment. They didn't come often, so every one was tucked away in his memory like a treasure.

Interrupting the moment, Alfred entered through the front door. "I moved the Vanquish out front, Master Richard" he said, handing the young man the keys. "Since you said Miss Arabella liked it so much."

"Thanks, Alfred. Thank you, Bruce," Dick told him again. "She might not admit it, but this party means everything to her. Once these producers hear her voice, it'll be a straight shot to stardom. I mean, you've heard her! She's only been singing professionally for the past four months, and already she has fans. Being sent an invitation to one of the most exclusive parties in Gotham is an honor given to only the most talented."

"Oh, my God!" Elle's voice drifted out over them from the top of the stairs. "Dick, you look amazing!"

Looking up at the owner of the voice, everyone couldn't help but stare. Elle grinned. Gaping fish mouths and wide, bulging eyes was exactly the reaction she had been hoping for. She had put a lot of money and effort into her costume, designing it herself, and arranging a private tailor to make it. After all, the hero she represented deserved more than a cheap knock-off such as that horrible thing she had unwittingly foisted upon Dick.

It was obvious that she was not the hero that she was representing; she was the wrong gender for that. With that in mind, Elle had designed a costume similar enough to honor him, but that played to her womanly strengths. It had to look fantastic on her. The reactions of her audience in the foyer below vindicated the time and effort put into it.

"I . . . Um, y-you chose to be Nightwing?" Dick stammered in shock and awe.

She laughed. "Well, of course I did. I live in Bludhaven, after all. I have to represent my city's hero."

The men moved as a whole towards the bottom of the stairs so to better view her creation.

She was feeling a bit anxious now. While a little gaping was good, their continued silence could also mean they didn't approve. Unfortunately, Elle couldn't very well go change into something else at this point. There was no way Bruce had another outfit tucked away somewhere that would be suitable her.

"So, what do you think?" she asked, nervously smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her costume. "Would Nightwing approve of it?"

Every set of eyes looked at Dick.

She took his breath away . . . Again!

Elle had chosen to go to this prestigious party as him - as Nightwing! And she looked absolutely beautiful doing it.

Her modified costume was white instead of black, but had the prerequisite blue emblem that raced down her sleeves, complete with blue finger stripes on her white gloves. The outfit was a two-piece, the tunic was actually a mini dress that ended mid-thigh, and she wore white sheer leggings that tucked into white, knee-high boots. The costume clung lovingly to her curves, making his mouth water.

The mask was a white replica of his black one, but hers had a thin strip of blue outlining its edges. The only things missing were the white lenses that were designed to hide the eyes of the wearer. Elle had pulled her dark hair up into a sleek, braided ponytail high on her crown.

Damn! She looks . . . He finished the thought with a sigh of bemusement, unit someone elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow! Hey!" He glanced over to find Bruce giving him a peculiar look. "What?"

"She was asking for your opinion," he whispered to him, tilting his head back in Elle's direction.

Oh!

Elle made her way down the stairs, but she did look a little nervous. Since she didn't know he was Nightwing, Dick supposed it was really his opinion that she wanted, as her boyfriend. He stepped forward to meet her at the foot of the stairs, holding his hand out for hers. Good thing, as she stumbled on the second to the last step. Dick's reflexes saved her, then he was setting her safely on the floor next to him as he tucked her hand into his arm.

"You look fantastic," he told her. "I think I can safely say Nightwing would be proud having you represent him tonight."

Bruce grinned at the sight the two of them. "I'm a little surprised you didn't choose Robin as your costume."

Elle shrugged, smiling happily. "Well, I wasn't expecting to bring a guest when I chose to go as Nightwing. But that's okay, isn't it? I mean, I heard that Nightwing has teamed up with Batman before. That's according to the news reports. Being Gothamites, you guys would probably know more about this than I would."

Tim was gazing at her with a dreamy expression. "You would have made an beautiful Robin," he assured her.

Damian made gagging noises. "Speak for yourself, Drake."

"Damian," Bruce growled a warning.

Elle turned to look at the shortest member of the family. Would it be too much to ask for his approval? "What do you think, Damian? Do you think Nightwing approve?"

Damian's eyes darted to Dick's before moving back to meet hers. Elle really wanted to know what look Dick had given the boy. Instead, she kept her gaze Pinned on the eleven-year-old. He would never like her if she didn't give him the respect of his opinion. She watched as Damian pursed his mouth in thought as he considered her costume critically. After a moment, he dropped his gaze to the floor as he scuffed one of his sneakers against the marble tiles.

"You look okay as Nightwing, I guess," he admitted almost reluctantly. In almost in the same breath, he quickly added, "I mean if one doesn't take into the account that a white costume would make you a target for criminals in the dark. And then, your braid could be used against you should your opponent grab it. He could use it to jerk your head back or unbalance you. Of course, I am not aware of your fighting capabilities but, if you can't fight, that would make all the other points moot anyway."

Elle stared down at the eleven-year-old with a slack jaw. It didn't take a telepath to know the thoughts running through her head at this moment. He snorted in amusement. She obviously thought Bruce had allowed him to watch too many ninja movies before bed.

She blinked and cleared her throat awkwardly. "Okay, then. It's probably a good thing I'm not an actual crime-fighter," she murmured in response. "Um - but, do I look okay, otherwise?"

Satisfied that she wasn't lumping herself in with true superheroes, Damian gave her costume one more once-over. He nodded. "Otherwise? If you mean for some insipid masquerade party, then yes, you look presentable," The boy smirked at Dick again and added with a shrug, "I'm pretty certain that Nightwing would approve. His standards aren't exacting, after all."

Elle choked at the backhanded compliment. "Why thank you, Damian. I happy I meet the minimum standards that are allowed. I would hate to have to cancel my appearance after all this."

"Tt," Damian scoffed. He knew she wouldn't have canceled on his say so alone, but it had pleased him nonetheless that she had asked honestly for his opinion. He eyed her, but she seemed sincere. Although, he still hadn't decided if he liked her or not, he could admit that she wasn't as bad as he initially thought.

The family followed the couple out to the car, wishing Elle luck with her performance and reassuring the two they looked wonderful. Before getting into the car, Elle paused briefly to kiss Dick on the mouth. She waved to the family one last time while Dick got into the driver's seat. They waved back as the car disappeared down the driveway.

"Did anyone else think watching Nightwing kiss Batman seemed a little weird, or is it just me?" Tim murmured to the others.

Bruce surprised everyone by laughing. "I'll agree, Tim, that was one sight I never expected to ever see." He slapped Tim on the back lightly as he steered Damian back inside the manor.

Damian glanced back at his father from over his shoulder. "You don't think anyone will be able to put two and two together from this and figure out that you're Batman, do you?"

Bruce shook his head. "Of course not, Damian," he said, ignoring the fact that his initial refusal to loan Dick a Bat suit stemmed from that very concern. "At least, they won't if the Batman is seen out on an early patrol."

Damian's eyes lit up. "Batman and Robin?"

"Batman and Robin and Red Robin," Bruce agreed.

Tim elbowed the preteen and challenged him. "Race you to the cave."

Damian darted after the older boy, yelling, "I've call shotgun!"

Bruce and Alfred followed at a more leisurely pace as they listened to the two boys arguing all the way down to the cave.

"So, what are your thoughts about all this, Alfred?"

"I think this young woman is going to do her part to shake up this household," Alfred told him.

Bruce looked startled. "Do you, now?"

"Yes, I do," the butler assured him. "And I do believe we will enjoy every moment of it."

Bruce smiled, throwing an arm around the older man. "I think you may be right."

REACTIONS?

Okay, this is by far one my favorite chapter.