*makes a Michael Jackson reference*

"Now her," Dick points across the diner to a blonde girl with glasses typing away on her computer, "Do her."

"I'm not 'doing' her," I respond.

He snorts at the implication, "You know that's not what I mean." I ignore him and continue ticking backburner companies off of a list. He forced me to come out here so I decided to bring some work with me. We ended up at an ugly diner in the gap between city and suburb.

"I know what you mean."

As if he doesn't hear my multiple aversions to his idea of a game, he continues to play.

"I'd say she's 23. She took a gap year to work and earn money and when she had enough she went travelling. Now she comes to this diner to write about her trip on a blog like she's still on holiday, when really she's back in Gotham working again. She doesn't want people to know she's not at college."

Fed up, I glance over at the girl, "I think she does go to college. I think she's a law student and she's here to write an essay on the fundamentals o viewing a case as the jury. She's a vegetarian and has body image issues."

Dick draws back, blinking in surprise before he face breaks into a grin, "Finally! But- no, I think I win this one. She definitely doesn't go to college."

I roll my eyes and look back down at my paper.

"Yeah. I suppose she has a Gotham U bag by her leg just for kicks. And when we walked in I didn't actually see 'the fundamentals of the jury's point of view' typed out on her screen. The vegetarian page of her menu wasn't really open, I just imagined it. And there's no way she doesn't have stomach acid scarring on her fingers or black regrowth on her roots."

He looks over his shoulder again with his eyebrows raised, clearly taking the girl in for a second time.

"Some detective," I murmur.

His head whips around with an alarmed expression, "What did you just say?" 

"I said you're being selective. You've only picked out the pretty young things. What about grandma over there?" I save quickly, nodding to an elderly woman in another booth. 

Dick lifts his chocolate milkshake to his mouth and takes a sip, "She looks like she's had a tough life."

"Why?"

"Because her mouth is set in that hard line most old people have. Like a permanent frown. Know what I mean?"

I wonder if I'll end up like that? I have never actually thought about what I'd be like as an old lady because honestly I never thought I would get there. But I suppose anything is possible.

"Are you done?" I ask, nodding to his cup which he is slurping from obnoxiously.

"Yes ma'am."

I roll my eyes and signal for the cheque. The waitress, wearing a cliché little diner dress, comes rollerskating over. She places it down on the table as she passes.

"Can you roller-skate?" He suddenly asks as I pay (he paid last time).

"I can, but I haven't since I was a kid. You?"

It's a stupid question, really, because I know he is capable of taking on great foes and swinging between buildings and fighting on with a gunshot wound. Of course he can roller-skate.

"Yup!" Unsurprising.

The locking of fingers as we step out the door is basically automatic at this point, so I don't argue when he grabs my hand within seconds. It's cold today despite the look of spring. According to some theories big hero battles with weather manipulation or Earth-shattering destruction can change things like this.

I suppose that's just how things happen in a world of meta-humans.

Suddenly Dick is tugging my hand roughly. I look up to glare at him but he's moving, stepping in front of me and dragging my arm behind him. I am forced to cross to his other side and only then do I see a woman with two big dalmatians passing by.

He put himself between us.

Stunned at the action, I want nothing more than to thank him, but I can't, the gratitude stuck in my throat over how embarrassing it is to be afraid of an animal after everything that I've been through.

So instead I remain silent, now holding his other hand as we reach the apartment. The guard gives a polite nod and hands over some mail and a package.

Dick stays to ask about the security over the delivery. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a bomb in it. I'm sure there are enough crazy people who want to kill both of us.

Assured that the guard used whatever device Dick gave him, he heads over to me turning the package in his hands. We step into the elevator and I can't help but question him.

"Do you know what it is?" I ask.

That seems to stun him as if he had forgotten that I was here. He regards me with surprise for a moment like I shouldn't be asking.

"No," he relents, frowning down at it.

It must have something to do with an investigation. Maybe one of his hero friends sent it?

The first thing I do when we enter the apartment is remove my ring at the door. After that I head into the bedroom, but not before stopping to observe what he gets up to.

With the package, he heads into the office he was originally supposed to sleep in. I'm curious as to whether or not there is a secret place in our apartment where he does all of his Nightwing work. Maybe one day I'll find out.

I change into a swimsuit and head out to the pool. With the blinds closed it isn't that cold. I jump in and sink to the bottom where I stay.

Tonight is a dinner with the Waynes, O'hares' and Merrybrooks. Yipee. Another torturous meal only this time I don't have my family for entertainment.

My family. I wonder how mad the kids were that I lied to them? Hallow used my apartment for a party so I guess I've pissed her off. None of them have messaged me, liked my Instagrams or even called; just Ethan.

Today, however, I am expecting a call. Not from them, but from my dad, who probably wants to know if Dick has said anything about sharing stock, because I've been doing exactly that in my office.

In an attempt to postpone that particular conversation, I do some laps of the pool and try to push it from my mind. I don't need to talk to him but I would rather have that, than him question Bruce wayne about it. Because then I'd have to explain myself and I can't do that- It's a mess.

For an hour I just swim, wondering about that package that has Dick so distracted that he doesn't come out. Even when I grab my towel and rinse the chlorine off in the outdoor shower, he doesn't show his face.

I have a proper shower inside because it's getting dark. Mai texts me the time for dinner over several messages like I'm going to forget.

Instead of a basic black dress I pick a dark green one given to me by Fantasia (as most of my things were) and black everything else. Surely that should be enough?

"Am I late?" Dick bursts into the room as I'm brushing my hair.

"I don't know. Are you?" I respond. He ignores me as he rushes into the wardrobe. A few seconds later her returns and stops next to me.

"Do I smell?" He leans over me and I yelp, arching away from him.

"I don't want to know! You probably do, we were out all day!"

He draws back to consider it for a moment, before nodding firmly, turning around and jogging into the bathroom.

I sit there, stunned by the sudden outburst. 

The shower turns on the same time my phone rings. The called ID merely says 'Dad', no picture like my other contacts. I want to get it over and done with, so I press answer.

"Hello?" I mumble.

"Cleo! It's dad." 

I roll my eyes, "What do you want?"

The overly chipper tone in his voice is an attempt to cover up his anger. I did, after all, ruin his plan to marry Ethan off.

"I just wanted to check up on the marriage. How's it going?"

Of course, "Oh. You just wanted to check up on the 'marriage'. Not me, huh?" I can practically hear him rolling his eyes this time. "The marriage is fine. Tonight we are having dinner with the Merrybrooks and the O'hares."

That distracts him from my comment, "Ha! They're trying to get in where I already did. That dumbass Merrybrook's illegitimate came after the fortune last year and now he needs support." 

Interesting. What is it Grayson said about the Merrybrooks? That they're nasty?

Finished with my look, I lean back in the vanity chair, "Tell me more."

◊

◊

Wayne Manor is what Ignatier would describe as 'aesthetic'.  Ginormous, dimly lit and gothic. It reminds me of the older buildings in Gotham with its aged outer-walls and arching gargoyles.

"You grew up here?" I ask Dick as we get out of his car.

"I grew up in the circus," he corrects lightly, "but I...matured here."

I suppose when your parents die and you're only eight, you're bound to mature early.

Once again he takes my hand. Behind us a car is pulling into the gravelly driveway. A limo, perhaps, but I don't turn around to check because I'm too busy observing the big smile on Dick's face.

The elderly butler who I have heard lots about stands at the humungous doors.

"Hey Alfred!" Dick chirps. We stop at the step. He glances over his shoulder and deems whatever he sees safe enough to shift back to normal. He bends slightly, "This is Cleo."

Alfred stares at him, "I am aware sir." When he turns to me I feel like I am being analysed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Perich. I'm Alfred, Master Wayne's butler."

His accent is to die for, even more so when he is calling me by my real name.

"Same to you," I smile, feeling an overcoming rush of sheepishness.

He steps aside and Dick leads me into the manor. I try not to look like an agape tourist, but it's kind of hard when you are faced with a vast entrance sporting mahogany bannisters and carved ceilings.

"Didn't you grow up in a mansion too?" Dick points out.

I roll my eyes as he leads me down a hallway, "Yeah but ours got updated every year. It wasn't old and heritage-y like this."

He looks like he wants to respond but that's when we reach the dining room. A family who just look like the described pushovers are already seated there with Bruce at the head of the table.

"Ah," Bruce begins, and it sounds so out of place, "Rodney, you remember my son Dick? And this is his wife, Cleo." At least he doesn't say Cleopatra. Rodney, attending with his wife, young son and daughter, gets up to greet us. His hair is an awkward combover paired with thick glasses and a pencil moustache.

This night is already weird.

Once everyone is seated we discover the car that arrived after us was the Merrybrooks, AKA the assholes. Ian Merrybrook is absolutely on steroids, likely alongside his son who looks like a dopey brick. The other two boys look just as stupid and the girl looks mild. Their heads are square and their hair is blonde. The wife seems prim and proper with her permed locks and silicone face. She regards everyone with her nose in the air and Bruce has to kick Damian so he stops glaring.

"Honestly Brucie! I don't know how you do it with just one butler!" Merrybrook begins when Alfred brings out entrée. 

"Well only three of us live in the house," Bruce responds. His smile is good but I can see through it.

Also, Brucie? 

"In our house," Rodney O'hare begins lightly, "We have-"

"So Brucie!" Ian interrupts Rodney, "We gotta talk business! Where's your swing man? We haven't seen you on the green in months!"

I'm starting to see it.

"I've been busy," Bruce explains with a tight smile. He goes back to cutting up his food and says, "You were saying, Rodney?"

Well, colour me impressed. This reminds me of one of my dad's colleagues who calls him 'Al'. The only person allowed to call my dad that is my mom. So when the colleague does it at our table, Ethan, Demitri and I would treat it like a drinking game.

"Every time he says Brucie I'm taking a sip," I whisper to Dick. He bows his head to hide his smile. He can't drink because he's driving, but I certainly can.

The start of dinner pretty much goes on like that. Ian, attempting to dominate the conversation, Bruce, always taking control of it and Rodney, trying desperately to fit in. Me, two glasses down.

All the while the rest of us seem to be simple observers. I am forced to watch Mrs Merrybrook judge Alfred's food with her almost unmoving face as her sons try to figure out how to use forks.

When main comes out, Merrybrook finally gets the floor. Surprisingly, he turns to me.

"So," he begins, a smirk on his face, "You're Al Perich's kid, right?" Jeez.

"I am," I nod.

He continues to smirk, "And you just happened to marry the son of another business tycoon?"

I clench my fists under the table and give a sharp smile, "What do our parents have to do with anything?"

"Everything," he responds as he turns back to Bruce, "My sons are going to run my company some day. My daughter is going to grow up to be very beautiful," he glances at Melinda Merrybrook with a proud smile. I can feel Dick's eyes on me, waiting for my reaction to his revoltingly sexist remark. "I believe she and your son will get along very well."

Melinda Merrybrook looks to be sixteen. Her skin is as white as a sheet, so much so that I can't tell where her forehead ends and her hairline begins. Her eyelashes are pale coloured and her shoulders are hunched over. Her chin is mishapen, lips like squiggly lines, a crooked nose and deep set eyes.

With all the Hallow and Ignatier Periches in the world, she doesn't compare.

"Thank you, Ian," Bruce begins, voice a bit firmer, "but Tim is his own person. He can make-"

"Ha!" Ian interrupts with such a sharp laugh it makes Mrs O'hare drop her cutlery to the plates. "I meant your real son, Brucie. My daughter will have no less than your true heir. Surely you won't let one of your wards take presence over your own blood?"

A stunned silence settles over the room. Everyone falls shocked, even Damian, but Tim glares on with an unintimidated stare. I can practically see the cogs turning his brain, trying to find a decent response, but he seems to come up with nothing.

So, "Talk of illegitimacy is a bit rich coming from you, isn't it?" All eyes snap to me, including the daring ones of Ian Merrybrook. "As is your judgement of my marriage. Mine is real and yours, rumoured to be arranged." I take a sip of my champagne because he said Al earlier. "I guess it would make sense that you slept with your secretary. No wonder she's suing for the sake of the child she has with you. It's older than this one here, right?" I nod to the oldest Merrybrook son. "What would happen to your stocks if everyone found out there was a war for the top spot among half siblings? What will the tabloids do with Ian Merrybrook's illegitimate son?" I turn to Mrs Merrybrook, who is acting like the whole thing is preposterous, "And you, well you know all about it, don't you? But as long as your own parents are happy it never mattered. Speaking of parents," my gaze moves back to Ian, "Your father has two children from two different mistress', does he not?"

The violent sound of Merrybrook's chair being knocked over as he stands makes Mrs O'hare jump again.

"How dare you!" He snaps, steroid pulsing arms throbbing in his stupidly tight golf shirt.

"I dare," I respond, "And you can settle down or PeriTech.com is doing an interview with your other child tomorrow."

A range of emotions cross Ian's face, but none more than fear. Huffing like a bull, he makes his choice.

"We're leaving!" He taps his wife's arm and she leaps into the action of getting that simple point across t her simple brood, "Wayne, when you'd like to apologise for your daughter's misconduct you know where to find me!"

With that, Ian Merrybrook, his idiot wife and his ugly children strut out of Wayne manor.

"I know he said Wayne but I gotta-" I throw back the rest of my champagne as Dick stares at me in awe, joy filling his eyes as he chokes on his laugh.

"How did you know all that?" Damian demands, leaning forward to stare at me.

"My father told me about an hour ago," I respond, "My mother is friends with the secretary."

"I didn't know," Bruce frowns down at his lap as if he isn't sure what to say.

"Well," Rodney O'hare, whose presence we had all forgotten, catches my attention, "I am very impressed. Thank you Mrs Grayson."

"You're welcome," I smile tightly.

The O'hares return to eating their mains as if nothing has happened. I hold off, watching Bruce carefully as he mulls over his choices. Tim gets up quietly, gives me a small smile and leaves. Damian tries to catch his father's attention. He fails and continues eating with a begrudged expression. When Bruce finally looks up and meets my gaze, he nods once, mouth twitching into an almost smile. 

A firm kiss on the head grabs my attention. I glance up at Dick, who smiles down at me proudly.

"Thanks for standing up for him," he whispers.

I know myself and my alcohol intake. So it isn't surprising when I lean up and kiss him once. It surprises Bruce though, who is taken aback by the action before he drops his head down.

I think he's smiling.

The O'hares are very sweet when they bid farewell. They express interest in doing business. I wouldn't put their company up with how Perich Inc. is right now, but perhaps in the future. 

Alfred also says goodbye but Bruce and Damian have mysteriously disappeared in the time it took Dick and I to get from the dining room to the front door.

Jeez, I wonder where they are? 

The drive home Dick has me tell him the further details of the Merrybrook gossip. About Ian's father and how he had many sexual partners of different genders and ages in the 80s, of Ian's secretary and how Ian still sees her, about Mrs Merrybrook's family and how they told her to stay with Ian anyway.

Finbar is the guard on duty when we enter the apartment lobby. I'm not drunk or even tipsy, but it's likely I look dishevelled from the laughter in the car as I cling a little too close to my husband.

I have finally done a good thing. I got a nod from Bruce, a smile from Tim and dodged a remark from Damian. I got a real kiss in front of his family. It's stupid that I care and I wish I didn't.

Still, when we get into the apartment, I can't help but smile at him.

"Bruce'll be happy," he says as I hang my coat by the door. I should probably take my ring off. "The Merrybrooks are a terrible company to deal with."

"That," I nod, heading towards him, "And he'll never have to be called Brucie again."

Both of us laugh at that as we picture the tight smile on Bruce's face, staring at Merrybrook with contained rage. Our chuckles boil down into us just smiling at each other and mocking Brucie in high pitched voices. 

After that everything is just natural. He bends slightly and I lean up and kiss him. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him backwards into the bedroom. He goes without resistance and kicks the door shut behind him.