Chapter 45: Charity Event (2)

[Third Person's PoV] 

Both Danny and Dick stood on either side of Bruce Wayne, watching intently as the billionaire exchanged a firm, practiced handshake with none other than Oliver Queen, CEO of Queen Industries. Flashbulbs sparked as cameras clicked rapidly, capturing the public image of two of the world's most influential men.

Standing slightly behind Oliver was Dinah Laurel Lance—known to the world at large as a successful therapist, but known to a select few as the formidable vigilante, Black Canary. Today, she was dressed in an elegant dark green evening gown, her persona polished and reserved.

"Well, well," Oliver said with a sly grin, nodding toward Danny. "Looks like you've taken on a new ward since we last spoke."

Bruce gave a rare, faint smile and gestured toward Danny. "Indeed. You already know Richard, of course. This is Daniel Fenton. He's recently come under my guardianship."

Danny's eyes flickered with hesitation as Bruce placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Still, he managed a tight smile.

"Nice to meet you, Daniel," Oliver said warmly, extending a hand.

"Likewise..." Danny replied, his voice trailing awkwardly as he shook the man's hand. It wasn't that he disliked Oliver—he just didn't know how to act around billionaires with thousands of cameras flashing around him.

Introductions continued. Dinah greeted both Dick and Danny with grace and ease, and the boys returned the gesture politely, if not a little stiffly. Before long, Bruce and Oliver led the small entourage toward the entrance of the grand venue.

As they walked in step, Dick leaned closer to Danny and murmured under his breath, "Why are you so tense? You're walking like someone shoved a stick up your 'You know what'"

Danny's jaw tightened as he whispered back sharply, "Because this is beyond awkward. I'm not built for high-society events and tight suits. All these people, these strangers, all the cameras, all the formal greetings—it's not me. I feel like a cartoon character dropped into a live-action drama."

Dick smirked. "Better get used to it fast, rookie. This is just the beginning. You'll be attending events like these more often than you attend training drills."

As they moved deeper into the venue, Danny's eyes scanned the room. It was a sea of tailored suits and sparkling evening dresses. Men and women exchanged pleasantries, champagne glasses in hand, perfectly curated laughs filling the air.

Danny groaned under his breath. "Don't remind me... And seriously, that goatee? Who's he trying to fool"

Dick burst into a restrained chuckle. He turned to Danny with a glint of mischief in his eye. "I don't know, why don't you tell me, Daniel Fenton?"

Danny sighed dramatically. "Touché, Grayson. Touché."

The night wore on, and the handshakes multiplied. Danny followed Bruce and Dick dutifully, smiling when he had to, nodding when expected—but the repetition drained him like a soul-sucking vacuum. Eventually, he peeled away from the crowd and staggered over to the buffet table like a survivor crawling toward an oasis.

His eyes were half-lidded, posture slumped, moving as though his body ran on empty. "Food…" he groaned like a zombie, grabbing a plate and piling it high with whatever caught his eye—sushi, spring rolls, pastries, cheeses, meats, fruits... everything.

Dick appeared behind him, raising an eyebrow at the Everest-sized stack on Danny's plate. "Okay, wow. That's... that's a little much. You're not supposed to stack your plate like you're at a family reunion. This is a formal event, not an all-you-can-eat buffet."

Danny didn't even blink. "Listen, when I get anxious, I get hungry. When I'm hungry, I get grumpy. When I'm grumpy, I stop caring. So go on—ask me how much I care about formal etiquette right now."

Dick narrowed his eyes. "You really wanna play this game?"

Danny leaned in slightly, his tone deadly serious. "Zero. Zilch. Nada. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to prevent a hunger-induced breakdown."

Chuckling, Dick shook his head and trailed after him, grabbing a more modest plate of food. The two made their way back to one of the circular tables near the wall, where Bruce sat in calm observation of the crowd. Danny dropped into the chair with the dramatic energy of someone returning from war.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the mountain of food, clearly unimpressed. Before he could comment, Danny held up a hand.

"Don't start. I already got the lecture from Dick. I'm aware this is improper. I simply don't care anymore."

With that, he began devouring his food with quiet satisfaction, eyes closed in bliss as he chewed.

Bruce glanced toward Dick with a silent question in his eyes.

Dick mouthed, "Anxiety."

Bruce exhaled through his nose in quiet understanding and nodded slightly.

As Danny ate, his demeanor relaxed and some color returned to his cheeks. Between bites, he glanced up at Bruce and asked, "Shouldn't you be out there right now? I mean, mingling, flirting, doing your whole 'charming billionaire playboy' act and gathering intel?"

"There's a time and place for everything," Bruce replied calmly.

Danny scoffed. "I'm just saying—no offense—but women talk. A lot. And we're trying to find a very specific artifact here. If anyone overheard gossip about a mysterious necklace or enchanted amulet, chances are it's one of them. You charm a few ladies, ask the right questions, and boom—info drop."

Bruce blinked slowly, caught off guard by Danny's blunt assessment. Dick looked equally stunned, unsure whether to respond or just let the moment pass.

Bruce, ever composed, turned thoughtful.

"…He might have a point," Bruce finally muttered.

Dick leaned toward Danny. "Okay, that was unexpectedly insightful. Slightly sexist, but still insightful."

Danny just shrugged and stuffed another bite into his mouth, mumbling through a satisfied grin. "I know, I know. All you need to do is Feed me and I can work wonders."

Finally, Bruce closed his eyes and sighed before standing up and adjusting his suit.

"I'll be back. Look after each other," he said before disappearing into the crowd.

Dick shook his head and gave Danny a curious look. "So, how are you feeling now that you've got some food in your stomach?"

"Better… but I still feel a bit out of place," Danny admitted softly, his voice low.

Dick smiled and was about to say something encouraging—until Danny spoke again, this time with a vulnerability Dick had never heard from him before.

"Dick… I don't belong here."

Dick stared, the smile fading from his face. Danny was still looking down at his plate, not saying anything else.

Dick opened his mouth, then closed it. Tried again—same result. He looked like a gaping fish, struggling to find the right words.

"Being at the forefront of it all… It's like entering a new world. Meeting so many different people—it's like they're from a completely different planet," Danny said, absentmindedly pushing his food around with his fork.

Hearing those words, Dick blinked. He knew exactly how that felt.

A soft smile returned to his face as he asked, "You know, I don't think I ever told you my story before, have I?"

Danny furrowed his brows. While he knew the story, Dick had never personally told him. He shook his head.

"My parents… like yours, didn't have normal jobs. They were acrobats—we were known as the Flying Graysons." Dick's gaze dropped, his expression softening as memories flashed through his mind. Then it hardened.

"But unlike yours, who tragically passed away in an accident… mine were murdered."

A heavy silence settled over the two orphaned, black-haired, blue-eyed boys.

It lingered—until Dick sighed. "It wasn't exactly easy, fitting into Bruce's world. Honestly, I know exactly how you're feeling right now. Like you don't belong, like you're an impostor. Like there's this giant pressure trying to shove you into a mold you weren't made for. Like forcing a puzzle piece where it doesn't fit."

Danny's mouth twitched as he hesitantly asked, "And how exactly did you manage to… fit in?"

"I didn't," Dick said, looking at Danny awkwardly. "It's funny, really. Even after all these years, going through the notions… sometimes, I still feel like I don't belong. Like I said, with the puzzle piece—the trick is to find where you do fit. To find your place. And the rest? It shouldn't matter."

"And where is it? If you don't mind me asking… where is the place you fit?" Danny asked.

Dick looked around for a moment, then cupped his hands around his mouth so only Danny could see. He mouthed: As Robin.

Danny's eyes widened for a second, then he chuckled, shaking his head. Dick had always been his favorite Robin for a reason.

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