“Class”

“Drunk or high?”

“…no glass. High.”

“Underwear or swinging free?”

“Not answering.”

“Prude.”

“…fine. Underwear, okay? You can see her panty lines.”

“Ooooh, thong. Ruff!”

“Roy!”

“Real or fake tan?”

“Real.”

“But it’s so orange. I swear it’s spray on—”

The person in question, a woman of high society status with golden hair and a beauty pageant smile, kissed her older beau on the cheek, then detoured to the two boys standing in a corner of the room. Her smile never wavered, even as she leaned over to the two thirteen-year-olds and proceeded to dump her entire drink on red-haired teen’s head.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but it seemed like you needed a cold shower.”

Dick Grayson tried to keep a straight face long enough for the woman to leave before the laughter ate him alive. Roy Harper glared at him from under his rusty mop before attempting to lick the alcohol from his face.

“You think I’ll get a buzz?”

“Buzzkill, maybe, if Ollie saw that.”

Roy pushed his bangs out of his eyes and smirked. “Please. He’d congratulate me. I just got the attention of a twenty-five year old.”

Dick arched an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead, he sighed and looked across the mass of philanthropists at the Annual Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation Gala. Under the numerous chandeliers of glittering crystals, a Champaign fountain trickled down wine glasses, a chocolate foundation bubbled with pieces of fruit, while dull blather murmured between the high society A-list, which included Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen and to their wards’ distress, Richard Grayson and Roy Harper, respectfully.

As soon as Dick entered the party, he sought Roy, and they decided to commiserate together in a corner of the Plaza’s Ballroom. At least he had Roy now. Less than a year ago, all Dick had was his Zesti and a few mozzarella sticks—if that. Thank God Mr. Queen decided to take the young bowman in.

“How many of these have you been to?” Roy asked, taking a sip of his Shirley Temple.

Dick grunted. “Twelve.”

Roy whistled.

“This year.”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it. Wait. You’ll be go these things now, too, in Star City. Ollie’ll drag you.”

“I don’t understand why. It’s not like we gave any money. Our guardians did. Why must we all suffer?”

“Because we live in a sadistic world, Harper.”

“This, from the ever optimistic Robbie? And here I thought you were the brighter of the Dynamic Duo.”

The Bat-glare Dick sent the other boy’s way was nothing short of malicious.

Roy laughed shortly. “If only they didn’t have guards by the fountain. This might actually be fun.”

“Why, is that Dickie Grayson?”

Dick rolled his eyes and turned his back to the direction of the voice, clenching his teeth. Roy actually sent him a worried glare then burst into smile. “Why, of course this is Dickie Grayson! And you are?”

Dick elbowed the slightly older boy in the gut and turned toward the older, bald man and his wife, who actually was his age. “Hello, Senator Pennington, Mrs. Pennington. How are you this evening?”

“Very well, young man. Very well,” the senator said, offering a hand to Dick. “I already spoke that guardian of yours. He tells me you are well on your way to a valedictorian speech for your middle school.”

“Hopefully, sir.”

Roy leaned over to whisper, “They have valedictorians in middle school?”

The senator never missed a beat. “Wow, that is remarkable, even if it is public, right?”

A murmur. “Yes, sir.”

“And for you, dear boy.” Mrs. Pennington rubbed Dick’s elbow, and he fought the shiver that worked his way into his spine. “A gypsy! No wonder Bruce is so proud. He probably hoped just to keep you out of juvie. Miracles do happen after all.”

Roy flung an arm about Dick’s shoulders. “Wow, is it just me, or did it just get bigoted in here?”

The senator furled an eyebrow, but his wife spoke, “And you are, young man?”

“Senator Pennington, Mrs. Pennington, I’d like you to me Roy Harper, Oliver Queen’s ward,” Dick introduced, and though the couple would not notice, Dick’s voice definitely was exasperated. “Roy, Senator Pennington and Mrs. Pennington. The senator represents Gotham and all her interests in Washington.”

“All her interests, huh? Does that include—ow…”

Dick let go of Roy’s arm.

The senator furled an eyebrow at Roy but once more looked at Dick. “So, another one to soothe the accountant, I see. How many more of these will we have to endure?”

Mrs. Pennington patted Dick’s arm. “At least you have grown some manners, young man. We will hopefully see improvement with this one. Spare the rod. If not, I know a nanny who worked wonders with our little Victor.”

“Really?” Roy smirked. “Because my guess is he’s doing heroine behind your old, abusive ass, but maybe that’s just me.”

The senator’s shoulders actually bristled, and he grabbed his wife by her hand. “Come along, darling. There is no need to stand for us to stand this abuse.”

Once they were out of hearing range, Roy whirled to Dick, but the younger boy already averted his eyes. “Are you kidding me? Seriously?”

“…what?”

“Don’t what me. You actually take that shit from Senator Snooty McSnooterson and his bitch?”

“Shh! Roy! They’ll hear you.”

“So?”

“So,” Dick exasperated and snatched Roy’s arm, pulling the older boy farther into the corner to whisper, “they’re good friends of Bruce’s.”

“Good friends?” Roy snorted and crossed his arms. “If—If they treat you like white trash, then they aren’t his friends.”

“Y—You don’t understand.”

“What? That your father shouldn’t allow others to treat you like a second-class citizen?”

Dick shrugged and looked out over New York. This was Roy he was talking to. He shouldn’t, he wouldn’t—He never had before, yet now he found himself blinking back the tears. “You don’t understand. Once you’re in this for longer, you’ll see—”

“—that we need alcohol. Lots of alcohol.” Roy snatched the Zesti from Dick’s hand and motioned outside. “I’ll get it and meet you on the roof.”

“I—I—Bruce, he’ll be—”

“Let him do some detective work for once, huh?”

Less then ten minutes later, Dick sat cross-legged on the very edge of the sloping, Plaza roof and loosened his blue necktie. Next to him, Roy dropped his off the side and watched it wave to the ground. He offered Dick the bottle. “Here you go. Drink up.”

“No, Roy.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t you think you’re the good soldier enough? For once, be the bad boy everyone down there thinks you are.”

“No one thinks I’m—”

“They call you names to your face. They think you’re a reformed juvenile delinquent.”

Dick laughed dryly. “Wait until they get your story. They’ll be calling you ‘injin boy.’”

“Hey, let ‘em!” Roy exclaimed, twisting open the bottle and downing a gulp. “And if Ollie gets a nanny to spare my rod, I just might let her.”

“Roy!”

“What I don’t understand is why you take that shit. Why don’t you just tell them off? That you were the top of every school you went to before you came to Gotham. That you had a black belt before Bruce took you in. That you were already fluent in three languages and that just because your blood isn’t blue, doesn’t mean you’re a lesser life form than them. I mean, damnit, this is racism!”

Dick propped his chin up in his hands. “Actually, it’s ethnicism.”

Roy narrowed an eye. “Is that even a word?”

A pause. “…y’know, we’ll stick with racism.”

“Well, at least they don’t sing that stupid Cher song.”

“What song?”

The red-haired boy’s voice bellowed like a drunken miscreant. “Gypsies, tramps, and thieves, we hear it from the people of the town…”

“I don’t know which one scares me more: the fact that you are calling me a tramp and a thief or the fact that you can sing a Cher song.”

“So, you’ll tell me off but not them.” Another swig. “Why won’t you hand them their asses or better yet, tell Bruce?”

Ruffling his straightened hair messy, Dick sighed. “Look, do you get what ‘soothe the accountant’ means?”

“Ollie has a female accountant?”

“No, it means ‘charity case.’ The only reason the senator and everyone else down there thinks Bruce and Ollie took us in, is for the tax breaks they get for having kids. And better than that, it’s a publicity stunt with no responsibilities. They take in two underprivileged kids—a gypsy and a Native American—”

“How political correct of you, Robbie.”

“Shut up. And as long as we don’t hit juvie, they’ve sufficiently done their jobs as guardians. I mean, heck, we’re not their heirs. We’re not even their sons. We’re their ‘wards,’ whatever the hell that means.”

*^*^*

“Ah, Senator Pennington,” Bruce Wayne greeted as he came forward to extend a hand once more. “I have been looking to restart our conversation.”

“Regarding?” the senator asked, accepting the offered appendage. However, as soon as Bruce engaged his, Pennington gasped and let out a tiny squeal of pain.

“My ward is missing, and you were talking to him and Mr. Harper before they left,” Bruce whispered, putting an arm around Pennington’s shoulder and widening his smile. “What did you say to the boys?”

Pennington moved to elbow Bruce in the gut, but Bruce simply moved slightly to the left. “It was a pleasant conversation,” the man gasped, trying to keep a smile upon his blushed face, “about the boy’s schooling and the miracles you have performed with Dickie, though I still don’t understand why you and Oliver continue to bring such classless and offensive people into our—eep!”

Bruce’s face darkened instantly, and he positioned himself in front of Pennington, so their eyes—dark to dull—met with a horrid realization in the elder’s. “Senator Pennington, might I remind you are nothing more than a pampered criminal who happened to get off of a racketeering charge by a technicality conceived by your crooked lawyer and judge, both of whom are now serving time. You are no position to place others in prejudiced castes, Senator, especially my son. He is not worthy of your offensive and classless presence. If I hear you’ve come within a hundred yards of him, I’ll pull my funding from your reelection campaign quicker than you can say ‘Blackgate.’ ”

“Mr. Wayne, I see you’ve won our bet. You found the senator first.”

Bruce’s lips curled into his fake smile, and he turned to see Oliver Queen. “Yes, Mr. Queen, and Senator Pennington has been most helpful in discovering the reason for our boys’ absence.”

“Oh. Do tell. I have a knot in my shoulder I would like to work out on someone’s face.”

*^*^*

“Eventually, Bruce is going to listen to all those snobs down there and send you to boarding school until you’re eighteen or worse, send you back to state care,” Roy finished and offered Dick the bottle again.

Dick pushed it away. “I—I haven’t told anyone that.”

“That’s why you take the shit,” Roy laughed. “See, me? No way I’m ever going to take that. Ollie won’t send me back. He’s the most liberal guy there is, and Bruce won’t send you back, either.”

“You don’t know that, and you don’t know about Ollie.”

“Sure I do. Look, as much as the states make this obscure wording, any guy who isn’t going to throw me out for messing up his recycling system or getting whacked by that snake guy—well, then he’s not just my guardian, Dick.”

Dick leaned back on his hands and looked out at the Empire State Building for the longest time.

“And the Bat has class. No one’s going to change his mind on taking you in, especially not those talking assholes downstairs. After all, it would be a pain to have to train another kid.”

Dick let out a drawled sigh. “Y’know, Garth doesn’t have this problem. He’s a diplomat. Hell, he’s practically the prince of Atlantis.”

“Gillhead? He totally was banished from Atlantis, remember? Purple eyes thing?” Roy snorted and tried to hand Dick the bottle again. “And don’t get me started on Wally. You know his dad abuses him.”

“And Donna doesn’t even know who she is—and Roy, for the hundredth time, no! I’m not going to have any liquor!”

Roy snorted. “Please. It’s tonic water. Those guards downstairs should be hired to watch Arkham.”

Finally, Dick took the drink and downed it, allowing the tangy taste to roll over his tongue. “Could use some lime.”

“Totally.”

They looked out over New York. “We are some seriously damaged kids, aren’t we?”

“Totally.”

“But we’ll always be there for each other, right?” Dick asked, putting out his hand. “No matter what?”

Roy clasped it, so their thumbs touched. “Totally.”

“Aw, I think they just had a bonding moment.”

Dick and Roy swung around simultaneously to see their guardians, both dressed in Armani tuxedos. The blonde-haired playboy once more turned to the Dark Knight. “So, what do you think, Brucie? We can make another playdate?”

Roy rolled his eyes and stood. “Please. What are we, two?”

“Oh, I forgot. You have an arranged playdate every week with those Titans’ meetings of yours.” Ollie ruffled the boy’s hair and shook his head. “Already gotten a glass spilled on you, and just where is your tie?”

“It fell off.” Roy shrugged.

Ollie’s hand fisted in Roy’s hair, and he playfully tugged the boy’s head upward. “It fell off?”

“Yeah.” Roy blushed. “Off the building.”

Ollie laughed and slapped his arm about Roy’s shoulders warmly. “You are going to be the death of me yet, boy. Now, say good-bye to Dick. We have to be getting back to Star City, maybe make it in time for one round before bed.”

Roy turned on his heel and put out his hand, which Dick slapped with a mild smile. “Titans together—”

“—Titans forever,” Dick finished and released the hand.

Roy smirked at Bruce, put up both his hands like tiny guns, and then entered the stairwell. Ollie clasped Bruce on the arm.

“Be seeing you next world disaster.”

“Or next high-society hostage activity.”

As soon as Ollie disappeared through the door, the young ward sighed and commenced tightening his tie, but Bruce stopped him with a hand on the bottom and swift jerk to loosen it once more. “We should take their advice and return to Gotham. Our obligation here is done.”

Dick nodded and proceeded to the exit, though Bruce stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Dick, there is something you should know. People can be ignorant in this world, despite their position in society and/or politics. What the idiots say is mostly ignored by those who are educated and respected, and they truly bear no power. The only reason why people like him still hold their positions is because people like me use them to fight for educational opportunities for the unprivileged and jobs for the working and middle classes. ” He looked deeply into Dick’s crystal eyes. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

It took Dick a moment for the words sunk in and heat to rise to his cheeks. Just the idea that Bruce had actually known what Senator Pennington had said made him feel ashamed. “I—I think so.”

“Good, and don’t worry, Dick.” Bruce put a hand on the man’s shoulder and led him into the stairwell. “Boarding schools rarely take new pupils mid-semester.”

“Bruce!” Dick yelped and hit his guardian into his stomach.

And it was then Dick realized what Roy had said. Bruce wasn’t like his father; he was his father. And his father had class.

The End