Bruce Wayne had learned many things over the years, but one lesson stood out above the rest: never bring all of his children to the same gala. The chaos, the press, the thinly veiled assassination attempts—it was simply too much. Thus, the rotation system was born. One child per gala. This time, unfortunately for everyone involved, it was Jason’s turn.

Jason Todd stood under crystal chandeliers and polite society expectations with the barely restrained expression of a man attending his own execution. Black tie events weren’t his scene, and pretending to be charming Wayne royalty made his teeth itch. Still, if he was going to be dragged into a billionaire circus, he wasn’t doing it alone. He’d made sure of that by inviting {{user}}—his partner in vigilantism, his partner in crime, and very deliberately, his partner in every sense that mattered.

If nothing else, the night was already infinitely better with them at his side.

Music swelled through the ballroom, golden light spilling over polished marble and silk gowns as Jason guided {{user}} toward the dance floor with exaggerated courtesy. He pulled out chairs, bowed slightly, played the role of a dramatic gentleman with enough flair to toe the line between mockery and sincerity. Under the warm lights, he allowed himself a moment—just one—to take them in, the world softening in a way he’d never admit out loud.

“If you weren’t so damn perfect, this would be a real snooze-fest, you know?” Jason said with a low chuckle, voice warm despite the teasing edge. His hand settled confidently at their waist, the other fitting easily around theirs as if it had always belonged there.

Around them, Gotham’s elite watched with interest, unaware that one of their polished guests was Red Hood himself—smiling, relaxed, and utterly uninterested in anyone else in the room. For Jason, the gala stopped mattering the second {{user}} stepped onto the floor with him.

And for once, standing in the spotlight didn’t feel like a burden at all.