Legend

I checked the scrap of lace and checked myself in a mirror before going out into the press of partygoers. It wasn't just Wayne Enterprise employees, it was also business partners (like me, I realized with a thrill,) potential associates, and clients. It was a huge party. I found Bruce holding court in a large room and thanked him for the invitation.

"It's good to have you back in the city, Alex," he said, gravely, taking my hand and giving me an air kiss. It kind of cracked me up. All these years, all this practice, and he was still stiff in company. "I'm looking forward to achieving important things with you and your brother." I smiled at the mention of J, who was still laboring away at finals, and he seemed to relax. A couple quick pleasantries, and I yielded to others who wanted a moment of Bruce's time. I got a little plate of hors d'oeuvres and water in a wine glass, and circulated, taking a few pictures for J and chatting with some of the people I'd been working with the past few months before finding an open spot on a very odd piece of furniture. It was a sinuous S the size of a love seat, but it looked like two arm chairs had been pressed together on each curve of the S, the upholstered seats facing opposite directions. It was in the Victorian style, so you have to make allowances for that. I nibbled (I'd eaten before I came so I could just enjoy tastes of the most decadent things) and relaxed, watching the crowd. Bruce employed a hugely diverse workforce and worked with anybody who had good ideas, so there were people straight out of college and the high school interns as well as distinguished people past the general age of retirement who just didn't want to give up their passions. The evening wear ran a short gamut of suits for men--along with a smattering of colorful kilts, but the women had considerably more scope. The quality of the outfits for both sexes varied from utilitarian to those who were trying too hard to those who got it just right to those who plainly were uncomfortable outside their work clothes.

Ron, a guy who worked with me on the high speed cameras, came over to introduce me to his partner Greg and we chatted a bit. "Kevin from electronics is already wasted," Ron warned me dourly. "He's like an octopus, I've been told, and hard to get away from." I rolled my eyes. There's always one.

I sat back on the weird furniture to enjoy myself and relax (and frankly, my left shoe was pinching my toes a bit); I looked over when someone sat on the other half. I smiled to see Damian. He'd grown into knock-out handsomeness; he had Bruce's build, broad shoulders, and strong jaw, but his Middle Eastern mother had given him a warm complexion and an exotic cast to his features. He smiled too, bringing up a dimple in his cheek. We chatted a bit, then I realized the genius of the odd furniture; it was very pleasant to lean into the arm that separated us and chat face to face. Then he asked me to dance. I remembered how he danced, but consoled myself with the knowledge that I could just enjoy looking at him.

I was surprised, though; a band was playing selections from the great American playbook of standards, and I settled into his arms for a version of "Night and Day." He led beautifully, and I had to admit I was impressed. "You dance wonderfully," I complimented him. His bright blue eyes lit up.

"It is an improvement, isn't it? I took lessons. I remember you were such a good dancer. I always felt like a dork." I tried quickly to find an appropriate response but somebody cut in before I could find tactful words. I groaned to myself. It was drunk Kevin.

He was normally very retiring, somewhat aloof, but with the addition of alcohol, he turned into the worst kind of party boy--loud, obnoxious, and his eyes never left my breasts, which caused collisions on the dance floor. Now, I'm proud of my boobs, they're my pride and joy right after my hair and I don't mind appropriate appreciation, but I like to have the whole package acknowledged. It wasn't as if Kevin was ever going to get to see them. Not after the embarrassment he caused; he held me too tight and had no appreciation for the flow of the dance floor.

It didn't take long until I'd had enough. I stopped and tried to get away, but it caused him to clutch me tighter. I felt a boner. That was it; I seized his wrist in one hand and bent a finger back to the point of dislocation. Works like a charm. He gasped, released me, and started to crumble. I stepped away and didn't look back. My disgruntlement took a hip check when I saw Dr Reynaud outside the ballroom; I got a hug and an introduction to his wife Mayte. We chatted a bit, washing away all the unpleasantness and we made arrangements to have lunch the next time I was at Wayne Enterprises.

Damian caught up with me at a bank of tall windows; the city is always beautiful when fat snowflakes laze their way to the ground. It was getting heavier, though, and I had to consider the effect of accumulation on my satin pumps. "Sorry about that," he said, handing me a flute of sparkling wine. I tasted it and smiled. It was a sweeter cava rather than than dry champagne, a pretty rose that looked smashing with my dress.

"Not your fault," I said, dismissing the incident.

"You look beautiful tonight," he said, taking the hint. "Crimson is a great color on you." I smiled.

"So.... how are the nights treating you?" I asked. His grin flashed.

"Not bad, for the most part, but I gotta say that I really appreciate that tissue accelerator more every year," he said lightly, but I couldn't help a wince. His hand brushed my bare shoulder, moving a curl back. "Haven't had anything serious since high school."

"I must be bad luck," I said lightly. He snorted.

"Very doubtful," he said. "I didn't do much during college and business school." He hesitated. "I wasn't sure you'd want to come tonight." My smile twisted a little.

"I called Detective MacIver, just checking," I said. I looked around. "Just between the two of us," I said, leaning in, "I have to say I like the MIT club better. Less...traditional."

He laughed. "You won't like the Harvard Club much, then." I grinned. He put his hand on my waist and we watched the snow fall. His thumb stroked my side. "I really like velvet," he said as an explanation, and we stood there in companionable silence until our wine was gone and a young blonde woman asked Damian to dance. I recollected that he must have duties, this being his company party, and apologized for monopolizing him. He kissed my cheek and said he'd talk to me soon. We parted company and I decided to leave to avoid ruining my shoes. The business was doing surprisingly well, but I wasn't paying myself much yet. I'd had a good chunk of change left over from the mad money Bucky had given me for college and a second allotment for grad school, and my party clothes budget came out of that.

I reclaimed my stole and to my surprise, ran into Alfred. He was starting to look his age, but was as calm and unruffled as ever. "Miss Alex," he said as I kissed his cheek. "How lovely you look."

"It's wonderful to see you," I said, and he smiled.

"I hear impressive things of you from Master Bruce," he said. "It is, of course, no surprise." We chatted a bit, and when I mentioned the little clinic, he invited me back out to the Bat cave to look at his setup. I wouldn't be at the tower forever, and a nice long look around when I wasn't all distracted by trauma would be instructional. He came outside and hailed me a cab, seeing me into it and blithely ignoring the looks from the doormen who weren't happy that they were being cut out of a possible tip.

The next night was Tony's shindig for his employees, associates, and clients, and Aslyn came over to get ready with me. I had a winter white, tea-length dress with long sleeves, pockets (yay!) and an extravagant skirt with matching satin shoes; she wore a more traditional LBD. It wasn't an Avengers party, they had their own, but most of them like to show up anyway; I knew Uncle Bucky and Emma would be there. This party was in the tower, so I had the comfort of not monitoring the weather and cabs were close by for everyone else. It was a hipper party than Bruce's but I didn't like the band as much. And the presence of the Avengers, as fun as it was for most people to brush shoulders with them, had a little dampening effect on the festivities; it was as if the concentration of that many heroes might invite trouble. Either that, or everybody just was on their best behavior. There were certainly no drunk employees running around inappropriately, which was a definite bonus. Non bonus: I didn't get to flirt as much.

The days sped through to Christmas, the evenings often had some kind of seasonal party. I was glad to take a break for the holiday and went to my parent's for a couple of days. J came back with me and spent a few days before going back to campus early to get a head start on his classes. He'd done really well in his first semester, all As and A minuses. I introduced him to some of the street heroes I'd gotten to know; they were interested to meet him. Even crime took a bit of a break between Christmas and New Years and I carved out some time to go visit Alfred. He picked me up and I gave him a pair of gloves I'd knitted for him. Bucky had finally cracked me and I'd taken lessons from him. Helped to pass the time when I worked in the little clinic. Alfred showed me the guts of their remarkable surgical suite as well as the less automated room where he patched up the less urgent damage. I had a lot of questions and he discussed things he'd do differently after working in both suites for so long. He drove me back to the tower with a basket of delicious baked goods.

Aslyn had gotten us invitations to a New Years Eve party at the St Regis, very ritzy. I wore a long midnight blue silk satin dress that draped my body like oil; it had a plain front with a halter neck and the back was open to below the waist. It looked austere, but I put jasmine flowers into my updo and it looked pretty darned good, if I said so myself. We started off with dinner before the party.

"I think I finally feel like a grown-up," I said as Margaret sprung for a bottle of champagne. She and Aslyn started to laugh.

"Well, I've got my own business--for now, anyway, until J finishes school--and I've been adulting hard. Networking, meetings, late nights. And enjoying myself, too." I raised my glass to my partners in crime, defending myself. They grinned and the crystal chimed. "I've gone to formal parties before, but in grad school I was going full out with the classes for my masters and the paramedic certification. So this is the first really adult New Years Eve I've had."

Aslyn leaned forward; she wore dangling tanzanite earrings and a simple gown with spaghetti straps; a nude lining that closely matched her skin tone, overlaid by fine black lace. The effect was a lot more revealing than the gown really was. "It's nice to be finally be on my own, seeing what I can make of myself. Tony Stark has an amazing cyber security department, so I'm pretty sure I can go far."

Margaret nodded, splendid in an emerald green gown that was slit high on her thigh and had a plunging neckline. Like me, she wore plain diamond stud earrings. "Here's to us. Worthy among your friends! Drink that you may live!"

"Oh, the benefits of a classical education," said Aslyn, and we laughed. "Here's one--Drink! And live among the good!"

"We seem to have no problem drinking," I said wryly, and tried to think. "Grr.... I can't remember any moldy toasts from antiquity. This will have to do. 'Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every New Year find you a better man.'"

"I like that, especially the part about the men," Margaret said, as we smirked. "Who said that?"

"Ben Franklin," I said. "He was quite a libertine, but I think he meant that last bit in a different way." We guffawed and drank. After our light meals--nobody's dress had much room for expansion--we made our way to the St Regis. It was an imposing building, and the city's great and good (and those of us hoping to be) made our way into the exquisite ivory and gold lobby to the elevators, up to the twentieth floor ballroom. It wasn't long before we were asked to dance, and none of us lacked for partners. Several of them had taken rooms for the evening and I got my share of propositions, but I didn't take anybody up on their offers.

"Right," Aslyn said. "This dress isn't coming off for just anybody," she said flippantly, and she got more smiles than from just us as we reconvened in the sumptuous ladies' room. After checking our makeup, we went back out, where I promptly ran right into a broad chest covered with an eyeblindingly white tuxedo shirt and onyx shirt studs. I looked up to see Damian. He was surprised to see me too, but recovered fast. I introduced Margaret and he greeted Aslyn, then introduced his friends too--Davison Rockefeller and Harrison McCormick. This time when we returned to the ballroom, we had escorts. Davison immediately offered Aslyn his arm and Harrison was prompt in doing the same for Margaret. I took Damian's arm and we brought up the rear.

"They're decent guys," Damian said in my ear. It wasn't as if I was worried about Aslyn or Margaret's ability to figure out this for themselves, but I appreciated the comment anyway. This time when we danced, nobody cut in, and as midnight approached, there were more slow pieces played by the band. Just as well, the dance floor was very crowded and there wasn't room for more vigorous dancing. At ten to midnight, the waiters began circulating with party hats and noisemakers. I snagged him a purple top hat and a pink foil kokoshnik for myself. He returned with champagne for both of us and donned his hat before delicately placing mine to avoid messing up my hair. "Sorry, they didn't have anything sweeter," he apologized.

"This is great, thank you," I said. I never noticed the taste as much when there were other things to look at anyway.

"Do you want to go to dinner next week?" he asked, and as I opened my mouth to agree, he continued, "as a date. Not just friends." He looked at me over the rim of his flute as he took a drink. I felt kind of fluttery.

"I'd like that," I found myself saying. And smiled. He smiled. When the countdown started, we counted along, and he bent slightly to kiss my cheek at midnight. I turned slightly and our lips brushed. Then we had a longer kiss, but nothing unseemly, we were in public, after all. As we parted, I stood on tiptoe and said, just for him to hear, "I don't want to go too fast. But I definitely want to go." His grin was warm and intimate. He kissed my fingers.

"So do I."

This time, when the music started up again, I was conscious when he held me closer, the feel of his hand on the bare skin of my back. I hoped that I wasn't making a colossal mistake. There was the business relationship to consider, and I'd come to like being friends again. But now I had this itch. But we'd agreed to take it slowly, so... I guess we'd see.