Chapter Thirty Eight

Ocean by Night

May 1st

Dick found himself pacing – something he usually never did, except, apparently, when Morgan was involved – as he waited for the girl to arrive at his apartment.

The fundraiser was in four hours and they had a lot of ground they needed to cover before they were ready to go.

First of all, this was Morgan's first undercover mission. She hadn't been trained at all in blending in.

And blending in with the Gotham elite was impossible without a bit of preparation. At those parties, everyone walked a certain way, talked a certain way, felt a certain way..

She'd stick out so very obviously if he didn't do just a minor bit of damage control.

He remembered when he'd been a young boy himself. Back when he'd first been introduced to the life of the upper class. He'd been ten years old. Bruce was celebrating his birthday with a giant party – the whole thing had actually been an excuse to further investigate some rich, English dude who he suspected of human trafficking in Gotham, but the party in itself had been genuine enough – and as his newly adopted son, Dick had been there.

He'd felt scared in a strange way. Not like when he faced down bad guys, but like he was a dying gazelle and the people around him were vultures.

He'd soon learned that that comparison was more accurate than he'd imagined.

The Gotham elites were cold and fake. They preyed on misery and formed false friendships and alliances, their every action meant to further strengthen their own position as an important part of the upper class.

They'd eat Morgan up alive if she didn't know the proper defenses.

So he'd asked her to come over so he could give her a few tips on how to successfully dodge them.

After all, not only her reputation was at stake here – not that she was much likely to give a crap about what the upper class thought of her, Dick figured – but also his, and by extension, Bruce's.

And Batman greatly depended on that reputation. He used Bruce Wayne's status as an airheaded playboy to his advantaged far more than you'd expect.

He stopped pacing, telling himself that he was totally overreacting. Flopping down onto his couch, he analyzed the situation. She'd probably be fine. She just needed to smile politely and pretend to actually be invested in the boring conversations people would lead.

He leapt up and started pacing again, even running an anxious hand through his hair several times as he realized how much of a disaster this was going to be.

No, it's fine. She can do this.

Oh god, Morgan's gonna have to be polite for an entire evening.

We're doomed.

There was a knock on his door and Dick quickly bound for it, flinging it open perhaps a bit too vigorously.

He ushered her inside, not missing the confused, raised eyebrow she was sporting at his obvious lack of composure.

"What's up with you?" She said by way of greeting, eyeing him curiously.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked at her seriously. "In a few hours, you're going to a fundraiser with the Gotham elite, and we need you to fit in if you want to avoid the night ending in utter disaster." He dramatically responded.

"But I thought we already went over this. I went and bought a dress and everything." She reminded him, pointing to the bag she was holding in her grip, containing the dress he'd asked her to bring over.

"I'm not talking about your looks, I'm talking about your behavior." He quickly clarified, annoyed that she wasn't as freaked out as he was.

Okay, maybe 'freaked out' was the wrong thing to call it.

Nervous. He was simply nervous.

So uncool.

"Okay, so, hit me with a few social pointers." She shrugged. "It's not like I'm there to make a good impression on anyone, I'm just there to talk to Fathiya."

Strangely enough, her confidence actually managed to make him feel just a bit better.

Mainly because it kind of made him realize how much he was overreacting.

"Okay." He agreed, nodding his head unconsciously. "Okay, so, social pointers."

So, which pointers were the most important?

His head felt very empty all of a sudden as he tried to remember how you were supposed to act at these social get-togethers. "Always smile politely and sound interested. Never talk about yourself for too long. Let them talk for as long as they want. Don't get more than three drinks for the entire evening."

Morgan nodded silently, looking confused but like she also didn't want to know why any of this was relevant.

"And for the love of god," He fixed her with a stern look. "If anyone asks you to dance, say you're suffering from a recent knee-injury and unfortunately can't dance as per your doctor's request."

Morgan frowned. "Why can't I dance?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Unless you happen to know any of the dances they actually dance at these kinds of things, I strongly advice against it."

Morgan shrugged like he had a point. "You make these kinds of things sound so horrible."

"That's because they are. It's a jungle out there." He responded severely.

She raised both eyebrows at him. "Um, okay. Who are you and what happened to my calm and collected mentor?"

He immediately glared at her and Morgan popped her mouth closed, fighting off an amused smile.

He was completely calm and collected.

"Okay, so," He breathed in deeply, "Wait here a moment."

He stalked into his bedroom and took out the fake back of his closet, pulling out his Nightwing-belt.

"We'll most likely get separated at some point during the party, so," He began as we walked back out of his bedroom, digging into one of the pouches on his belt. "We're going to use these to keep in contact."

Dick pulled out a small ear piece and briefly explained how it worked before handing it to Morgan.

She put it in her pocket, keeping it there until she had to get ready for the fundraiser.

And then the part he'd been most nervous about had arrived.

Dick need to somehow, without angering her in some way, explain that because they were going to this really prestigious fundraiser, she needed professional help to get ready. As in, a stylist to fix up her hair and makeup.

And, despite feeling very weird about it because he was doing it on behalf of someone else, but also because he was a guy, Dick had gone ahead and booked her an appointment at some expensive hairdresser in Gotham in less than an hour.

And if he knew Morgan correctly, the girl would get annoyed with him for daring to do so. Probably mainly because he'd done it on her behalf without asking for her permission first, but also because this meant that she had to sit still and let someone else prod at her features and make all the decisions on her appearance.

And also, Morgan just liked to make his life difficult. Dick had accepted this fact long ago.

"There's one more thing.." He began, wondering why he was so annoyingly nervous. He'd faced down countless villains – he'd been fighting the Scarecrow a few days ago! – had stood in life threatening and terrifying situations time and time again without flinching. Why did the anger of a short, curly haired and admittedly passionate girl make him halt in his steps?

She looked at him with an open face, waiting for him to continue. For now, there wasn't a trace of annoyance or anger on her features.

That probably wouldn't last for long.

"We have to fit in to avoid prodding questions, so.."

"So?" She helped him along, obviously not understanding why he seemed to choke on his words.

Dick sighed and decided to spit it out before his sudden idiocy started to annoy her – which would only make things worse as that would make her downright spiteful. "You're going to a stylist to get your hair and makeup done."

She blinked at him, still sporting that open-faced look, her grey eyes wide and deceptively innocent-looking.

Eventually, going completely against his expectations, she shrugged. "Okay."

He'd thought it before and he'd probably think it a million times more, but he was going to think it again: He didn't understand his trainee. Not one bit.

It was like she went out of her way to confuse him. The moment he thought he'd gotten a fairly good grasp on understanding how she worked emotionally, she went and did something like this, making him do a double-take so violently he was afraid his brain was going to pull something.

"Just like that?" He found himself asking before he got the chance to put brakes on that stupid mouth of his.

She frowned at him in confusion. "Just like what?"

"You're going to agree just like that?" He repeated, only explaining slightly more.

She tipped her head to the side as she studied his face, possibly wondering when he'd fallen and suffered a serious head injury.

Dick was wondering the same thing too.

"Well, we want to avoid stupid questions, right? I need to look the part. Besides," She grinned slowly, her full lips – not that he noticed the fullness of them, that was absurd – gradually twisting into her signature wry smirk. "Despite what you might think, I am a girl." – Oh, believe me, he'd noticed that – "I don't mind a bit of preening every once in a while."

He snapped his mouth shut, only now noticing that his lips had been slightly parted in his surprise. "Okay. I guess I'll take you to the place now then."

It only took them ten minutes to reach the nearest Zeta tube, and then another ten to reach the specific hairdresser. Neither said much during the short trip, minds preoccupied. Dick couldn't be sure what Morgan was thinking about, but he was mentally preparing himself for the fundraiser. He already knew he'd probably need to do a lot of damage control when Morgan – crude, temperamental and passionate Morgan – would undoubtedly bulldozer through the entire upper class of Gotham, without even realizing she was doing it.

He didn't necessarily look forward to an entire night of keeping his trainee on a metaphorical leash.

The lady in the shop – introducing herself as Clarissa – greeted them enthusiastically, pleasantly asking Morgan to take a seat. Morgan shuffled silently into her assigned seat, the giant mirror in front of her giving Dick a clear view of her face. She looked.. nervous.

He didn't ponder much on why she'd be nervous, rather, he waved the hairdresser over. "You know who to send the bill to?" He clarified.

Clarissa nodded reassuringly. "It's all in place Mister Grayson. No worries."

Dick kept his eyes on Morgan as she silently sat in front of the mirror, looking like she was avoiding her own reflection. She fiddled with her fingers and tugged at a curl, but otherwise didn't make a fuss as the 'adults' talked things over.

He briefly remembered the last time he'd seen her at a party. She'd worn that blue dress and the makeup her friend had put on her face had accentuated her features stunningly, her hair a smooth curtain down her back.

"One last request before I leave you to it." He turned to the stylist. "Don't straighten her hair."

Clarissa smiled almost softly at him – Dick couldn't understand why – nodding reassuringly. "I promise to keep her hair natural. Don't worry, in a few hours, your girlfriend will ooze natural beauty."

For some unfathomable reason, Dick didn't correct her on her false assumption; rather, he smiled stiffly at her and nodded once in a farewell, leaving the hairdresser's with the promise to return to pick her up before the fundraiser.

Her mentor was late.

He'd promised he'd pick her up an hour before the fundraiser began.

Well, that time mark was twenty minutes ago and Morgan wasn't impressed as she stood by the large windows and tried to spot Dick. It had started drizzling ten minutes ago, the dark clouds above her colored orange in the fading sunlight.

Her grey eyes flickered about as they absentmindedly followed the cars racing by outside, tires splashing through the puddles slowly forming on the road.

Morgan picked uncomfortably at the pearl bracelet around her wrist, her faint reflection in the window reminding her of the matching necklace around her neck.

She was nervous.

And she really didn't want to admit why.

It was stupid really. She knew she should've been worrying about the fact that she was talking to Fathiya tonight and might finally get some answers. Might finally find out if Rachel had suffered through the same thing Morgan had.

And yet, all she could think about was how much she hoped her mentor would notice how nice she looked tonight. She knew it wasn't a proper date. Her going as his date to the fundraiser was simply a role, a disguise, just like when he'd pretended to be her boyfriend when meeting her dad.

Which was why the butterflies in her stomach were so very annoying.

It wasn't an actual date, but to anyone but the two of them, it would appear to be. She'd have to smile at people and introduce herself as 'Morgan, Dick's date' and then listen to people politely ask questions about how the two of them knew each other and so on. Dick and she had already settled for a cover story. They'd met at school and had just clicked.

She'd have to pretend to be genuinely into him for an entire night.

Only, it wasn't actually pretending, was it? She did like him, and having to let that show so openly in front of a bunch of totally foreign people, in front of him, would chip at her nerves and composure like nothing else.

She'd simply have to suffer through it, Morgan mentally encouraged herself. They were doing it to help her along. If everything went as planned, she'd have all of her answers by the end of the night.

That was what was supposed to matter, Morgan told herself. She'd have to forget about her silly little crush for one night, for her own sake.

She could do it.

A sleek, black car pulled up in front of the shop and parked. A few seconds later, her mentor stepped out from the back seat and Morgan felt the color drain from her face.

She couldn't do it.

He was immaculately dressed in a three piece suit that Morgan swore was the exact same color as the dress currently hugging her own body. The suit made his shoulders look impossibly broad and made his blue eyes sparkle behind tufts of his raven colored hair.

Morgan scolded herself when she realized that the way he purposefully strode towards the shop, like a man on a mission, made a tiny shiver run up her spine. She told herself it was the cool temperature in the room that had caused it.

He pushed the door open and locked eyes with her immediately, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry I'm late," He said, "Something came up."

Taking a deep breath, Morgan squared her shoulders and took a slow step in his direction, praying that she wouldn't stumble in the high heels she'd been forced into.

"It's fine." She replied a bit stiffly, looking at his feet to avoid looking at the rest of him. "Let's just get going."

He held the door open for her and Morgan stepped outside, squeezing her eyes shut when a powerful gust of wind blew in her face.

The rain started coming down more vigorously and Morgan chose to stay where it couldn't reach her. She knew none of her makeup was waterproof – Clarissa had warned her about this as she'd applied it – and she didn't' fancy looking like the Joker by the end of the night.

"Oh.. Um," Dick seemed to realize that her reluctance was weather related and held a halting hand up. "Wait here. There's an umbrella in the car."

He ran through the rain and opened the car door, pulling out a big, black umbrella and opening it. Walking back to the shop door with an annoyingly blank expression on his face, he stopped by her and patiently waited for Morgan to step outside.

She silently gathered part of her skirt in her hand and lifted it up to make sure the hem wouldn't dampen as she made the short trek to the car door. Morgan wondered where her spirit had vanished off to as she silently and almost timidly walked under the umbrella her mentor was holding up. She mentally slapped herself as she ducked into the car and Dick slammed the door after her, dashing around the car to get to safety from the rain himself.

It took Morgan a moment to realize that they had a chauffeur to drive them around tonight.

"Hi." She quickly and warmly greeted, not wanting to seem like the kind of person to dismiss people that 'worked' for her.

"Good evening, Miss Jørgensen." He responded politely, his voice lilted with a pleasant, British accent.

Dick slipped into the seat next to her. "We're ready to go, Alfred." He announced.

Morgan's eyes widened with realization. "You're Alfred!" She exclaimed.

The elderly man smiled pleasantly. "My reputation precedes me, I see."

"Dick's talked about you." She explained, leaning forward in her seat to better talk to the man.

The teenager beside her shuffled uncomfortably, probably because the only time he'd ever mentioned Alfred was back when he'd been guiltily pouring out his heart to her after the Cave had exploded.

"Good things, I hope?" The elder man dryly asked as he eased onto the road.

Morgan smiled widely. "Only good things." She reassured him. She didn't elaborate, feeling like she'd be intruding.

"So," Dick casually spoke up after a minute of silence. "You look good."

Morgan stiffened and forced herself to turn slowly to look at him instead of the fast movement she'd been about to do. Her heart was racing annoyingly in her chest as she tried to gather enough brain cells to answer him.

"You clean up nicely yourself." She dryly responded, forcing herself to stay in her usual sarcastic mood. If she suddenly started acting all timid and compliant, he'd definitely know something was up. "Shame about the hair, though."

He frowned at her, a hand unconsciously reaching for his head. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Well, it's just, so.." attractive, dammit! "Messy."

He frowned again. "You're one to talk, curly."

"Oh, so we're resorting to name calling now, are we, douche nozzle?" Morgan moodily replied, feeling annoyance flare up in her.

The hairdresser had used over an hour on Morgan's hair, and the prick that the audacity to call it messy.

Morgan was almost grateful for her annoyance. It helped her feel somewhat normal again, instead of the stupidly timid girl with the stupid crush.

"Sorry, I was joking." He quickly replied, obviously not wanting to fight. Whether because Alfred could hear everything they said or because it would make the rest of the night unbearable, Morgan didn't know. "Your hair's fine."

It was damn fine, Morgan felt like responding, but she kept her mouth shut.

Save for her bangs, all of her hair and been gather in a tight bun at the crown of her head. The bun was framed by a thick braid, adorned with small hairpins with pearls on them.

Morgan had asked Clarissa the Hairdresser why she was using so many pearls. The lady had laughed and explained that they matched the dark blue dress nicely, like an ocean-by-night theme.

Since she was the professional, Morgan hadn't protested. She shifted uncomfortably as her pendant – once again around her thigh despite the disastrous occurrence the last time she'd done that – continued to be uncomfortably tight around her flesh.

They sat in silence again and Morgan dearly wished he thought it was because she was nervous about meeting Fathiya. She didn't want him to know that it was because he was sitting next to her in that stupid suit with his stupid hair and stupid eyes and stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Alright, we're here." Dick announced as he peeked out the window. "You got your ear piece?"

Morgan nodded and pointed at her left ear to signal she'd already put it in. "It feels weird. I'm probably going to have a heart attack the first time we use them."

"You'll get used to it, don't worry." He assured her.

Alfred parked the car in front of the huge building, the beautiful, white façade lit up by spotlights. Her mentor stepped out of the car immediately with his umbrella

Morgan was about to reach for her own door handle when Alfred spoke up. "You're supposed to wait for him to open the door for you, Miss."

"Oh." Morgan paused in her movement and looked at Dick walking around the car briefly before turning to the butler. "Thanks."

She silently wished the elder man was going with them so he could whisper advice to her for the rest of the evening. She got the feeling he'd be much more patient with her than Dick would.

Her mentor reached her door and quickly pulled it open with one hand, the other holding the umbrella aloft to shield the both of them from the rain.

Morgan quickly stepped out and under the umbrella, thanking Alfred for driving them.

The man smiled pleasantly at her. "You're very welcome, Miss Jørgensen."

She wanted to tell him to call her Morgan, but Dick had already slammed the door shut and Alfred drove off.

"He's nice." Morgan complimented.

"The best." Dick agreed. "Gimme your arm."

Morgan unconsciously took a step away from him. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes. "We're supposed to be a couple, right? So, give me your arm."

He grabbed hold of her hand and nestled it in the crook of his elbow, his body suddenly much closer to her than she'd have preferred.

Morgan swallowed dryly as they faced the building in front of them. There was a red carpet stretching from the pavement underneath them and all the way up the stairs and inside the hotel. The double doors had been opened fully and Morgan could spot a huge crystal chandelier inside.

They walked up the carpet, Morgan leaning slightly on her mentor for support. She hadn't had much time to practice walking in her high heels and she still felt a bit unsteady in them.

Despite hating herself for doing so, she allowed herself to imagine, for a small moment, that they were going on an actual date as an actual couple and the whole thing wasn't just a disguise on an undercover mission.

Several other couples, all looking glamorous in expensive furs, silks and jewels, were walking along the red carpet. Morgan was momentarily struck with how prestigious the entire get-up was and felt incredibly out of place. It was so very obvious that these people came from a much different background than her.

She wondered if they could tell as well or if she was just being overly self conscious.

Reaching the stairs, she stumbled slightly. Instinctively, she reached her other arm out to firmly grasp hold of her mentor's upper arm to save her fall. She managed to stay up, but not without a blush creeping up her neck. She hadn't even entered the stupid party and she was already screwing up.

Despite really wanting to remove her hand so she couldn't feel his very firm muscles underneath his suit, Morgan kept it there to avoid another mishap.

"This was a bad idea." She concluded as they reached the top of the staircase and she got a proper look at the party. The room they found themselves in reminded her a lot of Gotham University with the pillars, tall ceilings, graceful arcs, beautiful art and marble floors. A crowd of even more glamorous people were in the room too, either standing around and engaging in small talk or climbing another set of stairs to reach the second floor.

"Probably." Her mentor agreed in a whisper. "Come on."

Hey guys! So, kind of a less pleasant authors note than usual.

Yesterday, two guest reviews, Cake and Amber, had a bit of an arguement in the reviews, and I really feel the need to address the topic.

Cake is absolutely right. The amount of reviews simply stating 'update soon' or 'update ASAP' or 'please update' with literally nothing else in them, is really rude. I have stated several times (Both on this story and Guidelines and on the tumblr account) that these comments really irks me because they're just so demanding. It's really not a nice feeling to put up a new chapter and hope for feedback, and then all I'm told is to update again. It makes me feel kind of used, okay?

I know some people think that it's encouraging to state they like the story enough to want more updates, but when I've specifically said that I really do not want those kinds of 'reviews', please just don't write them anyway. It takes two seconds to write something different. I'm not very demanding, I don't expect you to write out whole essays on what you liked and didn't like on the chapter, but it takes just as long to write something like 'loved it' instead of 'update immediately

I don't even consider them reviews, okay? It's not a review of the chapter, it's a demand. It's demanding something for nothing.

This chapter was late because my internet currently isn't working so I have to hook my computer to my phone's internet just to update. And honestly? I didn't feel at all motivated to do that yesterday, which is why I'm only doing it now. The extreme amount of 'update soon' comments literally delayed this chapter for a whole day.

I hope this doesn't make me sound like a bitch, but I have to be honest with you guys. We're all just nerds reading and writing about our favourite chracters on the internet, why not make it a fun experience for everyone?

That being said, look forward to the next chapter! (A lot of you guys have been asking for jealous!Dick, and you kind of get some of that, so stay tuned!)

Fun fact: I'm at such a different place of their friendship and relationship and emotions in the sequel, so going back to edit and post the chapters for Feathers is so weird, like, 'oh right, they used to be like that. Things sure changed'