Scandals Stick Together
ao3
Prompt: No Capes AU - First Kiss
Woo! I did it! All seven days, hell yeah!
~~~
Tim thinks that if the room was any more glittery he'd probably be having a seizure. He can't help but wonder if the many chandeliers in the room are real diamond. Bruce only uses crystal in his.
Bruce's hand closes on Tim's shoulder and Tim's eyes flutter closed for a moment. He wishes Bruce's hand was his dad's. But his dad is in a coma, he reminds himself. It's not his fault that he can't be here to work Tim through his first professional gala.
"Hey there, Timmy." Bruce says with a smile just as glittery as the rest of the room. "It's good to see you at one of these!"
"Bruce, good to see you too."
"Have you thought any further about my offer?"
"To buy Drake Industries?" Or the other offer? Tim wonders. The one where he offered Tim to move in with him and Alfred. To work at Wayne Enterprises. To become Tim's legal guardian while his father is still in a coma.
Social workers are terrified to touch Tim's case, and as long as Tim keeps paying them to push it to the bottom of the pile they never will. But it's getting expensive. He can't push it off forever, and having Bruce Wayne as his legal guardian wouldn't be so bad. His other strays seemed to have done well--well, Dick anyway.
Tim is losing hold on Drake Industries. Every since the plane crash stock has been going down. It's going to crash soon. News of the buyout could, frankly, make it go either way at this point. If Tim agrees he'll have nothing to lose.
But it's the last thing he has of his parents. Dad.... Dad's probably never going to wake up.
"I told you, I have no interest in selling. I am going to bring Drake Industries out of the ground, you know I can." It's not totally a lie. Bruce does know how competent Tim is. He knows that Tim, if he dropped out of high school, got emancipated, and managed to convince his company that a fifteen year old CEO is a good idea, could do it. If he really tried.
But Tim's tired. He's so tired.
Bruce knows that Lois Lane is watching the two of them too closely for Tim's comfort. One word from her and his stock price plummets, and Tim can lose everything.
Bruce's eyes slide to Clark Kent who sits next to her. He's only focused on Luthor--as always--so even if he did catch something they're saying he wouldn't care, or he'd be nice enough about it that he might actually tick DI up a few points in the stock market.
Bruce lets out a big belly laugh (one that Tim can tell is fake) and slaps Tim on the shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt.
"Well, you know, if you ever need anything, Kid. Come straight to me." He says with an easy smile and he ruffles Tim's (meticulously gelled) hair. But Tim takes that for exactly what he knows Bruce means. They'll talk about this later. Bruce walks backwards away from him with a wave. "Let's do lunch!"
"Yeah," Tim mumbles, a little pink from the way people are now staring at him, "let's."
Bruce goes off to flirt with Lois and (probably, from the way Mr. Kansas City has turned bright red) Clark, which leaves Tim some reprieve from endless questions about his future for the company. Tim's hair is now sticking up in a non-artful way so he narrowly dodges old white rich folks and their perfectly made up children as he weaves his way to the bathroom.
He's not the only one fixing his hair it seems, as two other men are as well. One is a boy a little older than him and (presumably) his father. Both of whom are trying to hide that they are watching Tim out of the corners of their eyes.
As Tim turns his back on them to leave (although he can clearly see them in the reflection on the shiny eco-friendly heat dryer) the father leans over to his son and whispers: "That's Tim Drake. He's acting chair of his company and he's going to lose it to that Wayne idiot in a few weeks. Read it in Forbes."
Tim ignores the way his cheeks turn red and rushes out of there as fast as he can.
Tim hates the way people look at him now. Ives feels sorry for him, but that's because Ives actually cares about him. The fake way these people do, makes him want to snatch a champagne flute from one of the servers and down it. But really the last thing he needs is to get drunk or tipsy, to say the wrong word in a room filled with piranhas who have diamond teeth and lose everything before he ever gets a chance to earn it back.
Mrs. Powers corners him (old Gotham money, he tells himself) and starts with condolences (as they always do) before moving onto the obligatory "How's your father doing?" ("Well! Doctors just want him to stay a little more for observation but he'll be up and about in no time!" He says,) then to "do you need anything, darling?" ("Fuck you too Mrs. Powers," he doesn't say).
Tim doesn't know when exactly he gets surrounded by old rich women, but suddenly they're engulfing him. None of them squeeze his cheeks like they used to, or pat his head, or try to straighten his tie (he hopes that one's because it's still straight but he knows that's probably not the case). Instead they keep distance from him. He's no longer a child of a rival but the rival himself (the floundering rival, perhaps). They're not treating him as an equal so much as something diseased to excise.
He misses the days when he could just blend in next to his father's side or, at least, hang out with the other rich kids. Wow them with his knowledge (and the thrill) of living in Gotham.
Tim passes the drink counter (under which he's positive Winston Price the Third and Jennifer Wallaby are making out, because last gala, when he was one of them, Winston had told him he planned to do just that next time he saw her) and orders a soder despite what he really wants. The waiter laughs at him but cuts it out with a glare from Tim and gets him what he ordered.
He wishes that Luthor would just get on with the dinner part of the night. He was too nervous to eat all day and now he's starving. Also, prearranged seating means people will stop coming up to him to show him they care.
"Tim Drake, I am shocked to see you here," speak of the devil... "shouldn't you be caring for your father?"
Luthor knows. Luthor has always known, just as Tim has. His father isn't waking up, no matter what Tim manages to fool the rest of the world into thinking.
Lex Luthor smirks and Tim turns around. He plasters what he hopes is a Bruce Wayne brand smile on his face. "Mr. Luthor!" He covers his eyes and squints, as if the sun is blinding him. "Good to see you!"
Luthor frowns slightly. "Are... you feeling alright, Mr. Drake?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, it's just," Tim lowers his voice and leans closer to Luthor as if he is telling a secret, "with all these lights, your head is just blinding me." Luthor's lips turn into a pale line. "Really, I think you might want to see a doctor about your perspiration, it's so.... shiny. I'm sure my father's doctor would love to offer some... discreet suggestions."
The snicker behind Luthor almost makes Tim drop his hand. Luthor whips around. Ah yes, and there is the boy that made Tim's takeover of DI old news.
Conner Luthor. Appeared, as if from nowhere, just after everything from Haiti was settled. The de facto heir to Lex Luthor. Being trained to succeed him, but who's training wasn't even close to succeeding.
Partier, playboy, and very hot. Luthor's polar opposite. Also, the same age as Tim.
"Conner, maybe you should carry this conversation with Tim, after all you two have more in common than I do with him." A dig at his youth, lovely.
But before Tim can bite anything back, Conner says in a flippant way: "Well, beauty before age. Isn't that the saying?"
So the rumors are true, they don't seem to be able to stand each other.
Careful, Tim, he warns himself, cute boys with sparkling smiles might be more than they appear.
"Lex! How wonderful to see you!" A familiar voice hums behind Luthor, snapping the tension building. The singsong voice can only be Bruce.
Tim wonders if Bruce has been watching him. Tim doesn't need his help. He doesn't want his help. He just wants to go home.
Luthor grimaces at Bruce. "Wayne."
"Say, is this your son?" Bruce asks, turning his attention on Conner. He sticks out a hand. "Good to meet you, chum!" Bruce flashes a grin at Lex, "And they call me a playboy. Wow, she must have been a looker, huh, Lex?"
Luthor looks as though he might combust. Conner doesn't take the bait or the hand (he's been famously tight-lipped about his other parent and life before he took on the Luthor name). Conner glares at Bruce. Tim notices that Luthor hasn't convinced him to get rid of the earring for tonight (one more scandal to add to the Conner Luthor package) and wishes he hadn't. He doesn't have time to notice these things. He has to network. To try and dig himself back into a good light for the sake of his company.
But Bruce, in his blundering and self-focused way, has managed to give Tim a way to slip out of this interaction. All eyes are on Bruce.
Tim used to have a theory that Bruce was smarter than he appeared. His father had told him that was stupid. Sometimes, Tim thought he was right, but ever since he'd gotten to know Bruce he'd understood his mistake. So he gratefully takes the exit Bruce offers.
He can't hide, but he wants to. He really wants to.
Thankfully, though it seems that it's time for the dinner part of the gala to begin and everyone and their drinks are ushered into the next room.
Tim is seated at table nineteen with eight other people who only represent five different companies. Tim sits next to the daughter of a mogul on his left and the son of a different one on his right and it's clear to everyone that the artful Mr. Timothy Drake (Drake Industries) on his place card is just a courtesy. Everyone knows where he really belongs.
Luthor stands and begins his speech which Tim tries really hard to listen to but gets bored. He knows the gist of it, new tech, bringing Metropolis into the future, thank you for coming, etc etc etc.
Tim's eyes travel to Conner's seat at table number one, and finds that he's not there. Of course not, probably ditching.
Tim wishes he could ditch. He knows that the teens on either side of him will find one of their go-to excuses after a respectable amount of dinner and go up to one of the balconies or the roof to drink and smoke and play spin the bottle and other things their parents wouldn't approve of, before making their way back down by dessert and leaving completely respectably, none of the parents the wiser. Tim knows this because Tim used to do just that.
Despite that Tim hasn't eaten all day his salad just doesn't look that appetizing anymore.
"So, Timothy, I'm so sorry to hear about your parents. Who are you staying with?" The old lady across from him asks. The speech has ended and everyone has begun their first course. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks. None of his family members wanted him.
"Myself. I have an attorney for general legal issues but I can live on my own until my father can come home."
"What a smart young lad you are!" The father of the girl on his right says.
"And so well organized too! I can't imagine my Peter running my company at his age." The father of the boy on his left says. The kid himself looks like he would give anything not to be there right then, Tim agrees.
"Well, I just worry. It's so difficult to be a deciding factor in a company's decisions and for one so young-why, it must bore you to death!"
Don't tell them anything they can use, Tim reminds himself, lie.
"Really, it's a piece of cake."
"Well then!" The other adults (read: vultures) around the table seem delighted.
"Well he may not be bored," one of the younger people at the table says, he's the head of some start-up or another, "but I'm sure we don't want to bore the other kids with this table talk. How is your dog, Miranda? I heard she was sick?" And from there the conversation, thankfully, is led away from the topic of Tim and Drake Industries. The girl next to Tim begins going on about how her teacup poodle has cancer or something and Tim fazes out again.
Just after the soup course is served Miranda explains to her father that she's having some "lady problems" and might be a while. At the end of it Peter tells his father that he thinks he sees Conner Luthor over by that way, would it be alright if he says hi? (Tim glances over, and Conner isn't there). He's excused as well with a chortling: "Already networking! What an entrepreneurial spirit, that one!"
By the meat course Tim is losing his mind. The Start-Up Guy tries valiantly to steer the conversation away from Tim's parents but eventually even he is overwhelmed by rich old people and Tim has to repeat the same lies he's been saying for days now.
It's only once Miranda's father says that Tim might have been a good match for her, if only he were a little older that Tim decides to excuse himself with a 'phone call' from work. Something these people will understand.
Tim makes it all the way out of the ballroom, and then he decides to push his luck and go looking for some people his own age.
Since breaking down in a bathroom isn't an option (old rich people use bathrooms too), Tim decides that he might be able to find himself a secluded area where the kids are.
It's not hard to find them. They're in a much smaller ballroom on the second floor of the Luthor Concert Hall. There's a balcony, Tim knows, he's been here before.
Rock music blares and can be felt outside the room. Tim used to think that them playing music that loudly was a challenge to their parents: catch us. But now Tim understands it for what it is, just loud music.
Tim opens the door and a son of an African CEO hands him a joint. Tim wants to, but like so many things lately, he can't. He can't risk it.
The kid just shrugs, and lights it himself.
The room smells like smoke: all sorts. Tim spies some beers some of them smuggled in, and some wines from the receiving hall downstairs. His eyes snag on the champagne, but it's the cognac that he really wants.
"Traitor." Someone says to his left. He turns. It's Joseph. His dad is COO for Maxie Zeus. It's good natured, Tim knows, because Joseph is smiling. "I thought we weren't going to turn into our parents."
"Didn't have much of a choice."
"Bullshit." Lucy says from Joseph's side. "Let them go belly up and cash out."
"My Dad's going to pick the company back up in a bit." This is the last thing Tim wants, he came up here to stop talking about DI. People are starting to watch him. He can see Conner eating Miranda's face in the corner of the room.
"How'd you even swing it anyway?" Ha Joon asks.
"Yeah, aren't social services up your ass?"
"Guys, leave him alone." He hears Tam Fox say. She's always had his back.
"What happens in Gotham stays in Gotham." Preston snipes.
"Be nice!" Lucy says.
"What about school?" Peter asks.
There's enough of a lull in the interrogation that Tim answers with a shrug and scuffs his shoe against the tile floor. "I'm dropping out." This causes more of an uproar than anything else.
"No way!"
"God, my Mom would kill me if I dropped out."
"Kill you? My Dad would disown me!"
"Only disown? Wow, your parents are uncreative. There's more than one way to skin a kid that's for fucking sure."
It doesn't occur to any of them that Tim wouldn't have to drop out if his father really was doing okay.
"Seriously?" Tam asks. Clearly Lucius hadn't told her. Because Tim had told Bruce and there was no way that Bruce hadn't told Lucius.
"Yeah, seriously." Tim says.
"What's the big deal? I dropped out." Conner Luthor says with a shrug and all eyes turn towards him.
"Did you really?" Lucy asks.
"I mean, I basically did. I never go anyway."
"Ah, young grasshopper. We all don't go to school. But it takes some special cajones to drop out." Vido says.
"What's the difference?" Conner asks.
"See, don't go to school and your Dad just pays the administration office to keep it quiet. Drop out and he pays the reporters to keep it out of the newspapers." Preston tells him.
Conner cocks a wicked eyebrow. "And if he pays both?"
Everyone listening shakes with laughter. "Then you must have done something really bad," Lucy says, eyes traveling up and down Conner as if only now sizing him up. Conner languishes in the attention from her and Miranda who is staring at him like he's a god. Conner winks at Lucy and Tim feels a little sick. The smoke swirls around Tim's head, making it swim.
“What about that girl of yours? What was her name… Ariana?” Peter asks. “Did you ever get that first kiss?”
“My parents were held hostage and my mom died.” Tim says more harshly than he means to. He needs some fresh air.
Tim heads to the balcony but before he gets there Tam grabs his arm. "Hey, how are you really doing? Really?"
Tim grimaces. "What happens in Gotham stays in Gotham, right?"
Tam looks disappointed but she doesn't push and Tim opens the balcony doors.
The night is cool which is good against his burning cheeks. He wants to rip off the monkey suit. The tie itches and the gel is making his hair feel greasy and his feet hurt and he's still a little hungry. All these little things are coming up and bashing him in the face now.
"You really from Gotham?" Conner Luthor asks from behind him, making Tim jump.
"Yeah." He says.
"Rad." He says which makes Tim laugh even though it shouldn't. Conner grins at him. "So, a kid CEO, huh? Didn't know that was possible."
"It's not. Not really. But I'm trying." (And failing, he doesn't say. Again, it doesn't seem to occur to Conner that it wouldn't matter whether he fails or not, if his father is coming back.)
"No one's given you shit about being bisexual?" Conner asks.
"What? I'm not-"
"Oh. Sorry, I just assumed since they said about that Ariana chick and the way you look at me so-"
"I don't-Not you-!"
Conner snorts. "Please, I'm scandalous, not blind."
Tim shuts his mouth abruptly. "What do you want?" Tim asks in a low voice. Conner must be spying on him, there's no way Lex would give up this information.
"Nothing!" Conner frowns. "Why should I want anything?"
So that was how he wanted to play it. Tim frowns. "I should probably head back down-" He says but when he turns around to go back into the room he finds the balcony door is locked.
Tim tries not to cry. This can't be happening. It can't- He has to be able to get back down to the party, he-!
"Locked out?" Conner asks.
Tim leans his forehead on the door. He wants to die.
Conner leans over him and bangs on the door but the music is loud enough that no one hears him.
Conner scowls. "Well I guess now you're stuck out here with me."
"I'm screwed." Tim says in disbelief. They'll be locked out here forever, and even if they aren't it doesn't matter. Coming up here in the first place was a stupid thing to do. Ten more minutes is enough to ruin whatever reputation he has left downstairs.
Maybe he should just accept Bruce's offer. Whatever he'll get for Drake Industries will be more than whatever it's worth.
Tim feels tears leak from his eyes. He rubs at them angrily. He's going to lose everything. Every part of his parents, of his Dad.... Mom...
"Hey, it's not so bad! I promise! I'm less annoying than I seem at first impression!" Conner says hastily. Tim wipes at his face but he's sobbing now.
"I-It's not you. It's not-It's not- I'm not-" but he can't say anything without the words coming out as a garbled mess.
Conner, confused and worried, tries to comfort him by putting a hand on his back. Tim pushes him away. "Hey, it's okay." Conner says. He pulls Tim into a hug anyway.
"I'm going to lose everything." Tim tells him, words spilling out of his mouth. He'll accept Bruce's offer tonight. The paperwork will be done before they get home to Gotham and it won't matter what Conner tells Luthor because it'll already be done. "My company... everything my parents worked so hard for... it's going to be gone. I'm going to lose the last of them."
"But... I thought your father was getting better..." Conner says. Then he realizes what Tim's been hiding. "He's not getting better, is he?"
Tim shakes his head. His shoulders tremble. Conner holds him tight and he cries into Conner's shirt--soaking it.
Tim tells him everything. From Bruce's offer for the company to his offer of fatherhood. Conner listens silently, rubbing Tim's back and nodding. When Tim finally calms down, Conner presses his lips to the top of Tim's head. The kiss so fleeting Tim wonders if he imagined it. "You're going to be okay. You at least have Bruce Wayne, don't you? And don't lose hope, stranger things have happened. Your father could wake up."
"And if he does, I'll have sold his company away, don't think that he'll be happy about that."
"He'll be happy enough that he's alive and so are you."
You don't know my father, Tim wants to tell him. But he doesn't.
Conner wipes his thumb across Tim's tear-streaked face. "I don't even know why I told you all of that."
"I've got a listener's face." He says.
Tim snorts. "Yes, exactly. That's what everyone says about you. Lex's infamously obedient child."
Conner winks. "Only for cute boys. Lex can screw himself."
Tim raises an eyebrow. "Really?" The mysterious boy, who came from nowhere, heir to a fortune and company whose CEO he looked nothing like. Tim likes mysteries. Always did.
And then there was the cute boy comment. Tim tries not to think about that one too hard.
"Isn't that what the tabloids say?" Conner asks. He spreads his hands out in a half-shrug.
"Guess I never really believed they really knew anything about you. Not that they really know anything about you."
"I'm a man of mystery." Conner shrugs uncomfortably.
"Clearly." Tim raises an eyebrow. "Come on, tell me something about yourself. Anything. I told you my entire life story."
"Uh uh. That's my business to keep." Conner says shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. Tim sighs, but supposes that is his right.
Of course, without DI on his plate he can go back to his amatur conspiracy theorist detective work. Maybe he'll figure it out on his own.
Tim sizes Conner up. Yeah, he can figure it out. Conner's a teenager, and he exists which means he had to come from somewhere. He wasn't just born fifteen. Made in some lab.
"Yeah," Tim agrees though, "that's fair."
Conner nods. There's a knock on the door and both boys jump as Tam pokes her head out.
"Tim? Dad's says you better get back downstairs, Mr. Lord is saying some pretty nasty things about your father and Bruce is doing what he can but-"
"Thanks, Tam. I'll head down now." Tim tells her.
She looks from him to Conner suspiciously. "Gothamites stick together," is her veiled response, her glare at Conner showing what she really wants to say.
She leans back into the room and Tim just barely catches the door before it locks the two of them out again.
"Wow. Tell us how you really feel." Conner grumbles at her back.
Tim turns back to Conner. "Thanks. For... not being weirded out by me sobbing into your silk shirt." (Which is now ruined by the way, he doesn't say.)
"Hey, scandals stick together, right?" Conner offers with a quick grin.
Tim smiles back and turns to leave when Conner grabs him by the hand. "Hey, wait-!"
Tim turns just as Conner bends down to kiss his lips gently. Tim is too stunned to react as Conner pushes past him into the room. His first kiss and it’s with a Luthor. "Text me next time you want to vent. Listening face." He says, pointing to said face to emphasize his point. "Wayne's got my number. I think." Then he disappears into the party.
Tim watches him go, shocked. He's standing there so long, mouth open, that Luke walks past him at some point and he says: "I thought Tam told you what Dad said? You going back downstairs?"
Which restarts Tim and he rushes downstairs, cheeks pink.
~~~
"Well?" Lex asks as he and Conner sit in the limo back to the penthouse. "Learn anything useful from that Drake boy?"
Conner stares out the black tinted windows, watching as the streetlights zoom past and trying not to think about how Tim's lips had felt pressed against his. "Not a thing. Didn't even show up to the kid party like you said he would."
Lex narrows his eyes at his son. "I see."
Conner just shrugs. "Better luck next time."
