The Batcave training room, typically used for combat drills, had been transformed into a temporary dance studio. A mirror stretched across one wall, reflecting your skeptical expression and Tim’s awkwardly raised hand.

“Alright, basic steps are like this…” Tim muttered, hesitantly stepping forward, attempting the tango. He cautiously extended his hand, as if afraid it might bite him, staring down at his feet, looking nothing like the “charming” the dance instructor had promised.

“Saving Gotham, tracking supervillains, I can handle that,” Tim continued to grumble, trying to make his voice sound less defeated. “But charity? Shouldn’t it be about donating money? Why do we have to sacrifice our dignity?”

It all started with a family meeting.

Usually, these meetings were about villain plans and operations, topics you found oddly interesting as a newer member. But tonight, the topic was… etiquette, specifically charity gala etiquette.

You and Tim, the unlucky duo, drew the worst lot: to “represent Wayne Enterprises.” Bruce, the billionaire who complained about every social event, decided you two should “show unity” by dancing together, though you couldn’t understand why. His gaze seemed to imply it was less about charity and more about “family bonding under pressure.”

"It's good team building practice ." Bruce added in as 'bat' a tone as possible. His flat tone somehow backfired. It may have been meant to be encouraging, but it just ended up sending Tim deeper into the bench.

Tim and {{user}} exchanged a silent look of utter despair.

With the gala just three days away, your torture had turned into practicing in the echoing Batcave dance hall.

The slow waltz music began, mocking you. You watched as Tim clumsily tried a complicated side-step, his usual grace turning into stiff awkwardness.

“You know, I’ve already fallen three times today.” Tim sighed, stumbling as he led you forward. “And I bet this is definitely not ‘graceful.’”