If they thought Tim had doe eyes before, it was nothing compared to the way he looked at Jason when he gave him that lopsided smile. He was just so damn charming, it wasn't fair. "I would love to dance with you." The younger of the two said, a little too earnestly. God, he was like a school girl with a crush. How embarrassing. But even mentally chiding himself didn't get him to calm the hell down.
Jason was right, though. There were a lot of speeches and toasts to get through. As the head of the program, everyone wanted to hear from him. Fortunately, being the son of Janet and Jack Drake, he was more than capable of giving a speech to an expectant crowd. They wouldn't have raised their only child to be anything less. Not that they did much raising outside of grooming him to be their heir in the business world. Still, he looked powerful as he approached the little podium and began to speak.
Tim told them all about a few kids in particular that they had managed to help out, ones he had gotten to know on a personal level. All the work that Jason did really inspired him to do more than just throw money at the problem. He wanted to be out there helping the work get done, when he could. As he spoke, every once in a while, he'd let himself look over to where the older boy stood and the smile that pulled onto his lips was much more genuine than it was otherwise.
He made sure to thank the Red Hood in his speech, for the work that he did, and even tossed Jace's name in there as the messenger to thank him for the donation. Not something he typically did for donors, but not so unusual as to create shockwaves. There was still plenty of applause when he finished.
He'd smiled that lopsided smile one more time at that quick agreement to dance with him, but as much as he wanted to push his way into stealing all of Tim's social battery, he made himself back off. True to his word, he stayed close, always just on the peripheral of Tim's bubble of activity. He mingled a little, though most barely gave him polite nods before finding someone more socially suitable to talk to, but he always kept at least one eye on Tim and the socialites who followed him around.
The exception to his hovering came during the speeches. He'd charmed the woman tending to the hors d'oeuvres table into giving him a rather generously loaded plate, then settled in the back to work his way through his meal while speeches were given. One by one, he mostly ignored them all...until Tim walked up to that podium. Every time the boy glanced his way Jason smiled right back, even winking once just to see if he could make that smooth brilliance stumble at all.
Thanking a vigilante crime lord with a deadly reputation was perhaps a little more unusual than Tim might have planned, but honestly it wasn't that different from someone thanking Carmine Falcone. There was a murmur of surprised that rolled through the attendees, a hushed surprise that was easily covered by applause as Tim stepped away from the podium.
Almost at once, Jason's bulk was at Tim's elbow. A quiet, looming presence that kept the more timid of the vultures at bay. It didn't stop some of the older, more arrogant of the flock from their questions, however.
"How long have you worked with the Hood, Mr. Drake?"
"Is Mr. Wayne aware of your dealings with the Red Hood?"
Tim did indeed stumble, just a little, when Jason winked at him. He did his best to cover it smoothly, but he was sure that anyone who knew him well enough would be able to tell. It didn't really bother him, though, he'd be willing to look a lot more foolish than that if it meant getting to have the man's attention on him.
There was no need to look to his side when his speech ended. The aura of Jason Todd let Tim know he was there far before his eyes would be able to catch him. What once had been a beautiful, genuine smile on his face twisted into something fake as the elite hounded him for answers. No one in their right mind thought they had the right to demand things of a Drake, Tim least of all. He just tilted his head and gave it a little shake.
"I am working with the Red Hood." The young man said with a pleasant tone, daring them to try to question him further. He'd outwit every single one of them if necessary, they didn't scare him at all. "I have been for... hm. A few months, I think?" His eyes finally trailed over to the man beside him, and he bat those long, dark lashes of his. "Isn't that right Jace?"
It was the mention of Bruce that irked him most of all. Tim was not a child that needed daddy's permission to handle his charity how he saw fit. He turned, narrowing his eyes slightly at the elderly man that was staring him down. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Timmy. "I'm surprised you'd think that Bruce would have an issue with any of it. He's well aware that protecting the youth of this city is the only way to secure a solid future for Gotham. The Red Hood has no ulterior motives--he grew up here and knows what the streets are like." He grabbed for a glass of champagne as a waiter walked by and let himself have a long sip of it before speaking again.
"Or is it that you don't believe my mother taught me how to be a good judge of character?" Janet might not have been a very good mom, but she was a fierce business woman that people knew not to mess with. Tim certainly felt more connected with her postmortem than he ever had his shitty father. "I can promise you that I have personally vetted every person that comes anywhere near my charity, and if I was the least bit suspicious of anything at all, that person would not come near it again." All the while his tone was kept perfectly pleasant. It was the glint in his eyes that was vicious.
Watching Tim tear through the pack of entitled rich people with nothing but his sharp wit and lashing tongue was just as evocative as watching Red Robin take apart a group of thugs with his bo staff. It was captivating and Jason's attention was locked onto the younger man, a small smirk on his lips as he watched the hypocrites be torn down. They didn't go quietly, but Tim was quick to cut off their regroup attempts and, eventually, the small group dispersed and they were left once more to their own devices.
"You know, you didn't have to do that. He would have been fine being a silent benefactor." He made sure to keep his ruse, referring to Hood in the third person just as all of them referred to their masked egos. He sipped at his drink, something in a short, wide glass with ice and an orange slice, amusement bright in his eyes. "He's pissed off more than a few people in this room. He doesn't take kindly to the hoity-toity types coming down to our stretch of street to mess up some pretty young thing's face. Marched more than a few of them out on their asses, nursing busted noses or a few holes in places that won't kill them."
Hell, he'd recognized no less than three 'gentlemen' in the crowd who'd made his own pre-Batman days a living hell, not that he had any proof. There was a reason he wasn't mingling and it wasn't just because this wasn't his kind of crowd.
"Gotta say, though. Watching you work is very impressive, Mr. Drake. Very skillfully handled."
It sated a vicious part of him that didn't see the light of day very often, but in the past few years Tim had become very disenchanted with the sort of people he was raised to be like. He understood a little better why Bruce would get out of these sort of events as much as possible. Like tonight, when he swore he had other things to attend to. Not that Tim's sad about him being missing. Jason might not have come if Bruce were there. Tim certainly wouldn't have asked it of him.
"I don't have to do anything." He reminded Jason sweetly after another sip. "I admire everything that Red Hood has done for the youth in Gotham, and I'm not going to tolerate bad-mouthing him at my charity event. Whatever he's had to do to keep the streets safe is none of my business and has nothing to do with the Neon Knights program." Well, it was his business, but as Red Robin, not as Tim Drake. Red Robin's not too keen on hearing about people getting shot, but, well. At least Jason's not killing them. Progress.
There was a slight bow of his head as an acknowledgement of the praise. "I appreciate that, Jace. And I can see now that your boss probably didn't stop by to spare both me and himself the drama it would cause. But I'm glad that you were able to be here tonight."
Jason might have still come if Bruce had been there. Tim had needed him, and while he knew that it hadn't been a serious need, the boy had still asked and Jason had started to find himself unable to say no to those pretty blue eyes. He probably wouldn't have stayed, though. Being lectured about ruining Tim Drake's reputation wasn't exactly the ego boost that Bruce seemed to think it was.
Jason didn't want to make life harder for Tim just because of their...whatever they had. Contrary to what their family seemed to think.
Reaching out, Jason gently stroked a strand of hair back behind Tim's ear, his thumb lightly brushing the patch of cheek it had been hiding.
"Oh, I know you don't have to do anything. And he's very grateful for your understanding of his situation. But...if you're serious about not wanting people with ill intent to be around your organization, you may want to go ask Mr. Coleman exactly why he's favoring his left arm." He paused, giving Tim a little bit of a look before he cleared his throat and leaned in to whisper "And maybe exactly what he said to the girl he wanted to rough up to get her to leave the rest of the girls on the corner. He'll deny it, but the bossman's got proof if you want to see it."
So maybe he hadn't been coming tonight just to personally hand over the donation. He knew how fiercely Tim protected his program.
Tim was practically swooning at the way Jason brushed his hair behind his ear, like something right out of a romance novel. How had he found the guy anything but insanely charming? Well, it might have had something to do with getting his ass thoroughly kicked more than once, but really. That wasn't Jason's fault. Tim just felt lucky that he got to see the real him eventually, when the wounds slowly began to heal.
There's a shift in the brightness to Tim's gaze when he hears what Jason has to tell him, however. "I don't need to see anything." The younger of the two said, voice back to that dangerous, icy tone. "Excuse me for a minute, Jace." He didn't wait for any sort of response, simply turned on his heel. There were practically flames under his feet with each step he took, his aura nothing but ice and steel.
Tim walked right up to the man, smiled, and motioned for him to lean down so he could tell him something quietly. Whatever he said had the geezer looking shocked, then turning bright red. The guy seemed ready for the denial that Jason predicted, but Tim held his sharp gaze. "I assume you'll be able to see yourself out, Mr. Coleman. I don't think either of us want any sort of issues that could arise if you don't." He hummed and then smiled that same smile he inherited from his mother.
Those bright blue eyes followed the man as he made his exit, making sure that wasn't simply pretending to leave. And then Tim followed it up by telling security not to let him in again. It was only then that he returned to Jason's side.
There was a heat that settled in his belly when he watched those crystalline eyes go icy. A sense that whispered of danger, but not to him. It made his mouth go a little dry and as Tim stalked through crowd, every bit a wolf threading it's way through a flock of sheep, Jason took a careful sip of his old fashioned. The bite of the alcohol wasn't exactly refreshing, but it was bracing enough that he managed to not show his own teeth in a grin at the old man's retreating back.
The fact that his wife looked mad but not surprised just made him want to lash out even more.
Instead, he kept his focus on Tim and as soon as the younger man was heading back towards him, Jason was striding forward to meet him. His glass was gone, emptied and set aside, his hand instead held out in an offer.
"If you'd honor me with a dance, Mr. Drake?" He needed to get his hands on his lover, even just one pressed a little lower at the small of the younger man's back than would be socially acceptable. No one would expect a gangster to know how to ballroom dance, and compared to the rest of his would be siblings he wasn't particularly good at it, but he knew enough to not trample Tim's feet as he bowed his head to be able to murmur directly into Tim's ear.
"Anyone ever tell you how hot you are when you're pissed off?"
Naturally, Tim was more than happy to dance with Jason. He loved the feeling of the hands on him--a kind of security he probably didn't need but very much desired. He could take care of himself just fine, but that didn't lessen the warmth in his belly at feeling like maybe he didn't have to. That, and being touched like this left him feeling utterly desirable. Hard to believe someone like Jason would ever want someone like him, but he'd managed to luck into it and Tim was determined to keep it that way.
The smile he gave in response was just a little smug, a cat that caught the canary. He gazed up at the older boy with those pretty eyes, batting his long lashes a few times. "That's not usually that kind of compliment I'm used to getting, but it might be my favorite." He wasn't bullshitting, either. Despite his small stature, he could be a vicious little thing if necessary, and he didn't want to spend his time chasing after someone that would dislike that part of him. That was the thing about Jason, though, from the day that they got together, he hadn't made the younger vigilante feel like some part of him was broken and needed to be repaired.
And, definitely, there were parts of him that were broken. He just appreciated it not being thrown in his face.
Jason might not have been the most skilled dancer in the family, but he did just fine. The two of them were so well versed in fighting together that they could read each other's movements like it was second nature. Dancing and fighting weren't that different from one another, so they made a good pair in many different ways.
"I do think it's probably just about time to leave, though. I'm starting to get tired of all of this."
Thing was, that appreciation ran both ways. Yeah, Tim disapproved of the occasional body that he still left on Gotham's concrete, but the younger man understood. That hard, vicious core that ran through his perfectly straight spine meant that Tim could see the reason. He didn't like it, but he didn't have to like it.
They respected each other. All of each other. All their broken, jagged pieces that fit back together with little holes where somethings had been too shattered to repair. The others saw those holes and pitied them. Jason saw those holes and understood that being broken didn't mean you were useless.
The older man chuckled softly, nodding as the song came to an end. He kept a hand at the small of Tim's back as he guided them away from their fellow dancers. He wanted to steer them both in the direction of the door and just call it a night, maybe take some time to peel Tim out of that fine suit with his teeth...but Tim Drake had a reputation.
And being seen leaving with Jace Peters went beyond a little public flirting to get the grandmas to stop shoving their grandkids at him. The pictures that had no doubt already been taken would be damning enough.
"You go on. I'll make a menace of myself a little longer to keep your reputation pearly white. Meet you at the Nest. I'll make some caramel for popcorn and we can start season two of TNG."
Tim absolutely had a reputation, but it was terribly disappointing to feel Jason's hand slip away from his back. It had to be done, he couldn't be seen as some sort of floozy that would spend the night with just anyone. Still, the temptation to ignore all of that and drag Jason down for a fierce kiss called to him like a siren's song. Why was it that he always had to be the one to behave himself? Not like Bruce didn't indulge himself whenever he wanted.
Though typically not with known criminals. Just ones that masked their deeds with a pretty face that couldn't cause any harm.
Jason's words did make the younger boy smile. He nodded his head obediently, because he was a very good boy. He doesn't give into the temptation to stick his tongue down the vigilante's throat, but he does let his lips brush faintly against his cheek. A tender, sweet little affection that he was sure would be getting photographed. He didn't care. It was chaste and would hardly cause a huge scandal.
"Good night, Jace. It was wonderful to see you." He said loud enough to be overheard, and then he's off, the crowd parting for him so that he can take his leave.
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Jason was right, though. There were a lot of speeches and toasts to get through. As the head of the program, everyone wanted to hear from him. Fortunately, being the son of Janet and Jack Drake, he was more than capable of giving a speech to an expectant crowd. They wouldn't have raised their only child to be anything less. Not that they did much raising outside of grooming him to be their heir in the business world. Still, he looked powerful as he approached the little podium and began to speak.
Tim told them all about a few kids in particular that they had managed to help out, ones he had gotten to know on a personal level. All the work that Jason did really inspired him to do more than just throw money at the problem. He wanted to be out there helping the work get done, when he could. As he spoke, every once in a while, he'd let himself look over to where the older boy stood and the smile that pulled onto his lips was much more genuine than it was otherwise.
He made sure to thank the Red Hood in his speech, for the work that he did, and even tossed Jace's name in there as the messenger to thank him for the donation. Not something he typically did for donors, but not so unusual as to create shockwaves. There was still plenty of applause when he finished.
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The exception to his hovering came during the speeches. He'd charmed the woman tending to the hors d'oeuvres table into giving him a rather generously loaded plate, then settled in the back to work his way through his meal while speeches were given. One by one, he mostly ignored them all...until Tim walked up to that podium. Every time the boy glanced his way Jason smiled right back, even winking once just to see if he could make that smooth brilliance stumble at all.
Thanking a vigilante crime lord with a deadly reputation was perhaps a little more unusual than Tim might have planned, but honestly it wasn't that different from someone thanking Carmine Falcone. There was a murmur of surprised that rolled through the attendees, a hushed surprise that was easily covered by applause as Tim stepped away from the podium.
Almost at once, Jason's bulk was at Tim's elbow. A quiet, looming presence that kept the more timid of the vultures at bay. It didn't stop some of the older, more arrogant of the flock from their questions, however.
"How long have you worked with the Hood, Mr. Drake?"
"Is Mr. Wayne aware of your dealings with the Red Hood?"
"Are you two really working together, Mr. Drake?"
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There was no need to look to his side when his speech ended. The aura of Jason Todd let Tim know he was there far before his eyes would be able to catch him. What once had been a beautiful, genuine smile on his face twisted into something fake as the elite hounded him for answers. No one in their right mind thought they had the right to demand things of a Drake, Tim least of all. He just tilted his head and gave it a little shake.
"I am working with the Red Hood." The young man said with a pleasant tone, daring them to try to question him further. He'd outwit every single one of them if necessary, they didn't scare him at all. "I have been for... hm. A few months, I think?" His eyes finally trailed over to the man beside him, and he bat those long, dark lashes of his. "Isn't that right Jace?"
It was the mention of Bruce that irked him most of all. Tim was not a child that needed daddy's permission to handle his charity how he saw fit. He turned, narrowing his eyes slightly at the elderly man that was staring him down. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Timmy. "I'm surprised you'd think that Bruce would have an issue with any of it. He's well aware that protecting the youth of this city is the only way to secure a solid future for Gotham. The Red Hood has no ulterior motives--he grew up here and knows what the streets are like." He grabbed for a glass of champagne as a waiter walked by and let himself have a long sip of it before speaking again.
"Or is it that you don't believe my mother taught me how to be a good judge of character?" Janet might not have been a very good mom, but she was a fierce business woman that people knew not to mess with. Tim certainly felt more connected with her postmortem than he ever had his shitty father. "I can promise you that I have personally vetted every person that comes anywhere near my charity, and if I was the least bit suspicious of anything at all, that person would not come near it again." All the while his tone was kept perfectly pleasant. It was the glint in his eyes that was vicious.
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"You know, you didn't have to do that. He would have been fine being a silent benefactor." He made sure to keep his ruse, referring to Hood in the third person just as all of them referred to their masked egos. He sipped at his drink, something in a short, wide glass with ice and an orange slice, amusement bright in his eyes. "He's pissed off more than a few people in this room. He doesn't take kindly to the hoity-toity types coming down to our stretch of street to mess up some pretty young thing's face. Marched more than a few of them out on their asses, nursing busted noses or a few holes in places that won't kill them."
Hell, he'd recognized no less than three 'gentlemen' in the crowd who'd made his own pre-Batman days a living hell, not that he had any proof. There was a reason he wasn't mingling and it wasn't just because this wasn't his kind of crowd.
"Gotta say, though. Watching you work is very impressive, Mr. Drake. Very skillfully handled."
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"I don't have to do anything." He reminded Jason sweetly after another sip. "I admire everything that Red Hood has done for the youth in Gotham, and I'm not going to tolerate bad-mouthing him at my charity event. Whatever he's had to do to keep the streets safe is none of my business and has nothing to do with the Neon Knights program." Well, it was his business, but as Red Robin, not as Tim Drake. Red Robin's not too keen on hearing about people getting shot, but, well. At least Jason's not killing them. Progress.
There was a slight bow of his head as an acknowledgement of the praise. "I appreciate that, Jace. And I can see now that your boss probably didn't stop by to spare both me and himself the drama it would cause. But I'm glad that you were able to be here tonight."
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Jason didn't want to make life harder for Tim just because of their...whatever they had. Contrary to what their family seemed to think.
Reaching out, Jason gently stroked a strand of hair back behind Tim's ear, his thumb lightly brushing the patch of cheek it had been hiding.
"Oh, I know you don't have to do anything. And he's very grateful for your understanding of his situation. But...if you're serious about not wanting people with ill intent to be around your organization, you may want to go ask Mr. Coleman exactly why he's favoring his left arm." He paused, giving Tim a little bit of a look before he cleared his throat and leaned in to whisper "And maybe exactly what he said to the girl he wanted to rough up to get her to leave the rest of the girls on the corner. He'll deny it, but the bossman's got proof if you want to see it."
So maybe he hadn't been coming tonight just to personally hand over the donation. He knew how fiercely Tim protected his program.
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There's a shift in the brightness to Tim's gaze when he hears what Jason has to tell him, however. "I don't need to see anything." The younger of the two said, voice back to that dangerous, icy tone. "Excuse me for a minute, Jace." He didn't wait for any sort of response, simply turned on his heel. There were practically flames under his feet with each step he took, his aura nothing but ice and steel.
Tim walked right up to the man, smiled, and motioned for him to lean down so he could tell him something quietly. Whatever he said had the geezer looking shocked, then turning bright red. The guy seemed ready for the denial that Jason predicted, but Tim held his sharp gaze. "I assume you'll be able to see yourself out, Mr. Coleman. I don't think either of us want any sort of issues that could arise if you don't." He hummed and then smiled that same smile he inherited from his mother.
Those bright blue eyes followed the man as he made his exit, making sure that wasn't simply pretending to leave. And then Tim followed it up by telling security not to let him in again. It was only then that he returned to Jason's side.
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The fact that his wife looked mad but not surprised just made him want to lash out even more.
Instead, he kept his focus on Tim and as soon as the younger man was heading back towards him, Jason was striding forward to meet him. His glass was gone, emptied and set aside, his hand instead held out in an offer.
"If you'd honor me with a dance, Mr. Drake?" He needed to get his hands on his lover, even just one pressed a little lower at the small of the younger man's back than would be socially acceptable. No one would expect a gangster to know how to ballroom dance, and compared to the rest of his would be siblings he wasn't particularly good at it, but he knew enough to not trample Tim's feet as he bowed his head to be able to murmur directly into Tim's ear.
"Anyone ever tell you how hot you are when you're pissed off?"
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The smile he gave in response was just a little smug, a cat that caught the canary. He gazed up at the older boy with those pretty eyes, batting his long lashes a few times. "That's not usually that kind of compliment I'm used to getting, but it might be my favorite." He wasn't bullshitting, either. Despite his small stature, he could be a vicious little thing if necessary, and he didn't want to spend his time chasing after someone that would dislike that part of him. That was the thing about Jason, though, from the day that they got together, he hadn't made the younger vigilante feel like some part of him was broken and needed to be repaired.
And, definitely, there were parts of him that were broken. He just appreciated it not being thrown in his face.
Jason might not have been the most skilled dancer in the family, but he did just fine. The two of them were so well versed in fighting together that they could read each other's movements like it was second nature. Dancing and fighting weren't that different from one another, so they made a good pair in many different ways.
"I do think it's probably just about time to leave, though. I'm starting to get tired of all of this."
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They respected each other. All of each other. All their broken, jagged pieces that fit back together with little holes where somethings had been too shattered to repair. The others saw those holes and pitied them. Jason saw those holes and understood that being broken didn't mean you were useless.
The older man chuckled softly, nodding as the song came to an end. He kept a hand at the small of Tim's back as he guided them away from their fellow dancers. He wanted to steer them both in the direction of the door and just call it a night, maybe take some time to peel Tim out of that fine suit with his teeth...but Tim Drake had a reputation.
And being seen leaving with Jace Peters went beyond a little public flirting to get the grandmas to stop shoving their grandkids at him. The pictures that had no doubt already been taken would be damning enough.
"You go on. I'll make a menace of myself a little longer to keep your reputation pearly white. Meet you at the Nest. I'll make some caramel for popcorn and we can start season two of TNG."
no subject
Though typically not with known criminals. Just ones that masked their deeds with a pretty face that couldn't cause any harm.
Jason's words did make the younger boy smile. He nodded his head obediently, because he was a very good boy. He doesn't give into the temptation to stick his tongue down the vigilante's throat, but he does let his lips brush faintly against his cheek. A tender, sweet little affection that he was sure would be getting photographed. He didn't care. It was chaste and would hardly cause a huge scandal.
"Good night, Jace. It was wonderful to see you." He said loud enough to be overheard, and then he's off, the crowd parting for him so that he can take his leave.