Pay attention to the changes in POVs. I separated them out with a break, but wanted to give you a heads up that the viewpoints come from not just Dick and Elle, but also Damian, and at one point switch back and forth quickly. The song I mention here is "I Like That Old Time Rock and Roll" written by George Jackson, Thomas E. Jones III, and uncredited lyrics by Bob Seger; performed by Seger on his album, Stranger in Town. I don't own any part of this song; I just like it and consider it a rock and roll classic. (That I don't own Batman or any of the characters of the DC universe goes without saying.)

Dick hadn't come very far down the hallway that led to the ballroom before the sounds of music drifted to his ears. Where was it coming from? It took him a moment to remember the music room near the end of the hall.

Alfred had told him that long-ago Waynes' had hosted many a musical evenings, and that the room had been one of Martha Wayne's favorites. It had also been a room that Dick had always thought of as off-limits as Bruce had always ever kept the door closed. He knew the door wasn't locked, but it might as well have been for as many times as he had ventured here.

One. One time, and that was only to peek in at the array of instruments that were displayed on walls and shelves. Not that music was ever forbidden or that there weren't musical instruments to be found elsewhere in the house . . . Dick had learned to play guitar while growing up. There was an upright piano in one corner of the living room. It just wasn't as important as the mission. Nothing ever was as important as the mission. Thus, while music wasn't forbidden, it was seldom played within the household when it wasn't being used as a tool during a party or event.

But Dick couldn't help but wonder if they had, for all of Bruce's wealth, been all the poorer without it, however, when he got close enough to recognize the song seeping through the doors of the music room. He could hear her singing to the song as he neared, and grinned. Why didn't he think to look here for her first when they thought she was lost? Elle obviously had turned down the wrong hall, but upon finding a room full of instruments, he knew she couldn't resist exploring. At least they no longer had to worry that Damian had kidnapped her with the intent of doing her in!

"Anything?"

Dick glanced behind him to see Bruce trotting towards him.

"What's that sound," he asked as he joined Dick. "Ah, I see she found the music room," answering his own question.

"We should have looked here first," Dick told him, repeating his earlier thought.

Bruce's mouth quirked. "That doesn't sound like jazz."

"Jazz is just her favorite style of music, but not the only one she appreciates . . . apparently," Dick tilted his head, listening.

"Apparently? You mean, you didn't know?"

"I've only ever heard her sing jazz . . . Well, that and the occasional lullaby."

Now, Bruce's eyebrow quirked. "Lullaby . . .? Wait, stop! I don't want to know."

Dick elbowed him, grinning even as heat rushed to his cheeks. "She sang me to sleep once or twice when I was sick, you pervert. Nothing happened."

Bruce snorted. "You must be losing your touch," he teased. "And Alfred tells me she has her own room . . ."

Dick blushed up to the roots of his hair, and shoved his hands into his pockets. Ducking his head, he stammered, "Uh, yeah, well . . . I am her first boyfriend, after all. There's no rush . . . And it's not like I have a playboy image to cultivate . . . Ah, forget it! Never mind!"

Bruce chuckled at Dick's discomfort. He ruffled the younger man's hair playfully, as he used to when Dick had been a boy. "No," he assured him. "I'm proud of you. Your actions and the reasons behind them only go to prove how much you genuinely care about this young woman. It also speaks well of her character that she continues to bring out the best in you."

Dick shrugged his shoulders. "Elle makes me want to be a better man."

Bruce's hand settled on the back of his son's neck, and he looked him in the eye. "Considering that you are the best man I know, that's truly saying something."

Dick's self-effacing smile faltered at the praise. He stared for a moment. That was the greatest compliment that he had ever been given, and for it to come from Bruce . . . He didn't know what to say to that. "Oh. Wow . . .That is . . ."

"Master Bruce! Master Richard! Have you located our guest?" Alfred's voice interrupted.

The moment shattered, Bruce's hand dropped away and Dick stepped back; both turning to greet Alfred and Tim as they hurried down the hall to meet up with them. The memory, however, was tucked away into that special place Dick kept all of his most treasured moments. He would save it for later, when he was alone, to pull it out and savor it fully.

"I believe we have, Alfred," Bruce was saying.

The two men slowed as they neared as the music finally drifted to their ears. Alfred looked startled as he realized that music was once again flowing from a room too long silent. Tim cocked his head as he listened.

"I Like That Old-Time Rock and Roll?" Tim marveled. "Who's that singing?"

"Elle," Dick was smiling again.

"I guess the demon-brat didn't off her yet," Tim remarked.

"Tim!" Bruce growled.

"Master Timothy," Alfred reproached him.

"What? It was merely an observation," Tim defended himself.

A screech of furniture moving interrupted the notes of the song. Tim's observation struck a chord of another kind in the hearts of the men and they rushed the last few yards to the room; determined to prevent any possible harm to the woman who now owned Dick's heart. As the door was thrown open, Dick stumbled to startled halt just a couple of feet inside the room. Bruce nearly plowed him over as the rest of the men barreled in behind him. All of them stared in awe at the scene before them.

The music was turned up so loud that even Elle remained unaware that they were no longer alone in the room. She and Damian had shoved the couch back in their eagerness to have more room, and resumed their activities with renewed glee and vigor.

Elle sang the words to the song as she twirled and danced with joyful abandon. It had taken Damian a little time to relax and loosen up enough to join her, but eventually he had, and Elle was thrilled! It was a major victory in her campaign to win the boy over, and she was reveling in her success!

Damian, although stiff in the beginning, was now moving to the rhythm of the music with almost an unbridled enthusiasm; copying most of Elle's moves but now comfortable enough to add a few of his own ideas into the mix. He was definitely seeing the value in music now; if only to reduce the boredom of repetitive movements found in aerobics and certain exercise regimens, he qualified as an afterthought. Dancing, he decided was a worthy way to increase cardiovascular circulation and increase stamina. If the activity was almost amusing, then all the better, he thought.

Damian was dancing. Dancing!

Dick wanted to laugh out loud! This was wonderful . . .

And if that miracle wasn't enough, he was having a blast while doing it! The huge grin on his face attested to that very fact. For the most part, his back was to his still hidden audience, but they had caught glimpses of that elusive expression as the boy gyrated to the classic rock and roll song with Elle.

Elle spun around in her dance. She opened her eyes to watch Damian finally cutting loose, and saw, much to her dismay, the entirety of the household gaping at them from just inside the doorway.

Damian still had his back to them, but any second he would spot their audience and close down completely. She knew this about him like she knew her own name. The embarrassment she knew he would suffer would guarantee that he would never ever allow himself to experience such a release as dancing provided again.

Worse! He would blame her for what he would consider his humiliation, and the fragile bit of trust she had earned from him would be forever broken. She knew without saying that forgiveness was not this boy's strong suit.

Her eyes widened, panic written in every inch of her expression, she shook her head vigorously and pointed firmly to the door. Her facial expression shifted instantly to its previous happiness the second Damian glanced in her direction. She looked over his head, relieved to find that they were once more alone in the room. Damian followed her glance curiously, but saw nothing and so continued to spin, lunge, twist, and jump uninhibited; hidden from unwanted, prying eyes.

It didn't take a mind reader to realize what Elle was telling them. Tim and Bruce did a mad scramble to get out of the room before Damian saw them. Dick turned and threw himself bodily into the hallway, landing in an ignominious heap at Bruce's feet as Alfred hurriedly shut the door behind them.

"Well, there's a sight you don't see every day," Tim remarked, dryly. The understatement doing more to emphasize the sheer wonder of the scene more than anything else that could have been said at that point.

"That smile . . .," Alfred began. "Master Bruce did you see?"

"More like a grin, Alfred. Yes, I did. I didn't think it was possible," Bruce wondered aloud, reaching down to help Dick back to his feet.

Dick rubbed his elbow as he laughed. Damian dancing, grinning, and laughing like the little boy he was . . . It was a wish come true; something he had wanted for the boy since he had shown up at their door sullen, self-important, and yet riddled with enormous amounts of self-doubt that he constantly tried to hide behind a mien of anger and biting sarcasm.

"Are you all right," Bruce asked, touching Dick's arm above the elbow he had struck upon landing on the hard marble tiles.

"I am more than all right," he replied, purposely misconstruing Bruce's question. "That was amazing!" This memory was going to be tucked alongside of the compliment that Bruce had bestowed upon him just minutes ago.

Bruce grabbed Dick's wrist and pushed up the sleeve to his sweater to inspect the possible injury. "I meant your elbow," he clarified, bemused by the situation.

The area was slightly reddened, but no dramatic discoloration had occurred and there was no sign of swelling. He allowed Dick to retrieve his arm from his inspection and pull his sleeve back down.

"So, what are we supposed to do now," Tim asked the obvious, looking from one man to the other.

The song was ending. Dick moved back to the door.

"We're going to join them," he said, waiting until he was certain that he wouldn't interrupt any potentially humiliating situations before he threw open the door; making enough noise upon entry that both parties would be immediately alerted to his presence.

Damian was panting from his exertion. As soon as he saw Dick, he moved to the sofa and began picking up his papers and coloring pencils. He shoved them all into his backpack.

Elle tried not to be disappointed as she watched her portrait disappear inside the scruffy pack. She would be here for another entire day, however. She would be leaving Gotham with that picture in her luggage yet, she determined.

"There you are," Dick walked up to her and kissed her in greeting.

Elle blushed charmingly, but leaned into the kiss nonetheless. She was helpless to resist the man's affections, even in front of his family. Despite her reaction to his earlier unexpected entrance, she was genuinely thrilled to see him. Just his presence was enough to make her happy!

"Here I am," she agreed, smiling warmly at him. "Have you been looking for me?"

"I have," he told her, touching his nose to hers. "Imagine my dismay when I go to wake you for brunch, only to discover that you are missing."

"Oh," she sighed. Then realizing what he had just said, she straightened abruptly. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry! I turned the wrong way and took the stairs at the end of the hall. I peeked in some of the rooms to see if I could get my bearings, and . . . Well, when I looked in here I sort of became distracted."

"Good afternoon, Elle," Bruce greeted her. "Have you and Damian been getting to know each other?" He acknowledged his youngest son by dropping a hand on his shoulder. Damian didn't actually smile at him, but neither did he shrug the touch off much as he would have only a week ago.

Her eyes widened. "Afternoon," she squeaked. "I had no idea! Where did the morning go?" That last, she was asking Damian.

"Elle was introducing me to different styles of music, Father," Damian explained, still slightly breathless.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," he nodded, unaware of his own enthusiasm. "I was curious. She sang for me like she did for you and Grayson."

"Did she indeed, Master Damian?" Alfred stepped into the room next. Tim followed on the butler's heels. "And was it all that Master Richard and your father described?"

Damian glanced up at his father, and then at Dick, who had turned to face him; his arm around Elle's waist. She leaned against him, and tilted her head; curiosity evident in her face.

Everyone was awaiting his opinion.

Damian hesitated. If he criticized Hamilton's performance, then everyone would remain mad at him . . . And it might hurt her feelings, he supposed. He hated to admit she was any good, but if he said she was anything other than good, he would be lying.

He had liked her singing – a lot. When she had started dancing around him as she sang, his lips had curved upward. She had been funny, but also had appeared to be truly enjoying herself. She hadn't cared that he had smiled, although she might have supposed he had been laughing at her – He hadn't been, of course. Her happiness had actually been infectious.

He had tried to decline when Hamilton had urged him to join her dancing. He had managed to hold out for a couple of songs before he finally gave in. He hadn't known was he had been doing. The idea of gyrating to music had seemed utterly ridiculous to him, and he hadn't wanted to appear foolish, even if Hamilton was doing an excellent job of it.

But, then again, she hadn't really looked foolish. Her moves were synchronized to the beat of the music, and it sort of made sense – in a way. The individual moves had looked rather simple, but put together, they grew more complicated. Despite himself, Damian had been intrigues. Eventually he had given in and tried to emulate what Hamilton was doing, watching her closely for the moment when she began to mock his clumsy attempts. But . . . that moment never came.

Hamilton had smiled, but it had been in encouragement and maybe even happiness. It had made him feel like he done something good, like he had accomplished something almost important by making her happy. She had laughed, but not contemptuously. And after a moment, he had smiled with her. Not long after that, he had laughed with her! She had acted thrilled with him. The mood had been addicting. With each consecutive song, Damian had lost more of his inhibitions. He had had . . . Dare he admit it? . . . Fun!

Now, with everyone looking at him, he was put on the spot. Would the others think him silly for enjoying her singing? He looked at Dick. Of course, he would think she sang great . . . She was his girlfriend! But Damian had heard Father talking about Hamilton to Alfred after he had met her. He had heard him tell Alfred that her voice was impressive.

If she actually did sing great, then how would it be foolish to admit that she had sounded good? Damian wouldn't wax eloquent, but he could, he thought, tell the truth without fear of ridicule.

He shrugged. "Her voice was acceptable," he admitted.

Glancing at Hamilton, he saw her smile falter the tiniest bit. He supposed she didn't know him well enough yet to realize that for him, that was high praise. He felt a little twinge in his chest that she might think he didn't like her singing after all. Hamilton's disappointment wasn't acceptable to him.

He amended his statement. "Actually, it was more than acceptable," he said.

Every head swiveled back in his direction.

"It was . . .," he searched for the right word. Remembering his father's description, he nodded. "Impressive."

He wanted to wince at the silence that followed. They all might as well have gasped aloud. But Hamilton practically glowed, and that, he found, was acceptable enough to ignore the others.

Still, he suddenly wanted to change the subject to something less embarrassing. If they continued in this vein, it might come to light that he had indulged in dance. That was unacceptable! So, when his stomach growled, Damian leaped at the idea.

"I'm hungry," he stated to the room in general. "Is it time for lunch yet, Pennyworth?"

"Indeed, it is, Master Damian," Pennyworth agreed. "Lunch will be served shortly." The butler looked at Hamilton. "You must be starved, Miss Arabella. It is nearly one o'clock now."

Hamilton's stomach rumbled loudly in response. Instead of blushing like Gordon might have, she laughed. "I think that I am, Alfred. And if you would like, later, I could sing a few songs for you and Tim as well. A kind of mini-concert; if you like."

"I, for one, would love to hear what all the fuss is about," Tim volunteered.

"I think that would be a pleasant way to spend an afternoon, Miss Arabella," Alfred remarked. "I would enjoy the opportunity to hear the voice that Master Damian has deemed to be impressive. A high compliment, to be sure."

A squeeze on his shoulder as he and his father moved to follow everyone out of the music room, made Damian look up. Father's lips twitched up in a rare smile at him, and he winked! As Damian started toward the dining room, the shock mellowed out into pleasure.

Maybe Hamilton wasn't so bad, after all. She might even be okay.

I had the hardest time coming up with a rock song that Elle could perform that was classic and something that I thought Damian would enjoy. I came up with several others, but this one stood out as one that either a man or woman could sing, and one with lyrics that Elle wouldn't object to singing to an eleven year old boy. She sang other songs for him that I don't mention, so it might be fun if you could name a classic rock song that Elle might have performed for Damian before Dick and the others stumbled upon them. (Keep in mind the limits that Elle would place upon them - She doesn't know Damian's background, so lots of violence, bad language, and sex cut out many songs that I love, but might not consider age appropriate for a child.) I'm not going to show Elle's mini concert she gave for the family, but one song you might like to look up, if you haven't heard it before, is "Remedy (I Won't Worry)" as performed by Jason Mraz. It was written by Mraz, Lauren Christy, Scott Spock, and Graham Edwards. I don't own any part of the song, I just like picturing Elle singing and dancing to it. Can you picture her coaxing Dick, Tim, Bruce, and Alfred to cut loose a little with her? Damian might even be willing to join in if everyone else does . . .