THE PUBLICITY KID

Tim Drake had survived assassins, supervillains, death traps, Gotham’s nightlife and being raised by Batman.

Apparently, none of that had prepared him for Gala Season.

The Wayne Foundation had a reputation to maintain, which meant Bruce Wayne was expected to appear at an endless parade of charity dinners, galas, auctions and political functions.

The Batfamily had collectively decided they were done.

attracted too much attention.

Jason looked like he wanted to murder the donors.

Damian’s scowl made billionaires nervous.

Stephanie talked enough for three people.

Barbara somehow attracted half the room whenever she attended.

Cassandra was too quiet.

Duke was equally reserved.

Which left Tim.

Smart.

Polished.

Charming.

Socially competent enough to hold a conversation without accidentally threatening someone.

Therefore, Tim Drake had been unanimously sentenced to become Bruce Wayne’s designated Gala SonTM.

And Tim hated it.

Not because he disliked Bruce.

Not even because he disliked the events.

He hated being forced to wear a tuxedo while pretending he wasn’t counting the minutes until he could escape.

Tonight, however, was supposed to be another ordinary Gotham Gala.

Until Bruce casually mentioned:

“We’ll be meeting Tony Stark tonight.”

Tim nearly choked on his drink.

“...Tony Stark?”

Bruce looked at him.

“Yes.”

Tim stared.

Tony Stark.

The Tony Stark.

Industrialist. Engineer. Avengers associate. Genius.

Tim had followed Stark Industries’ technological developments for years.

He’d studied Stark’s published work.

He’d dissected his inventions.

He’d even once stayed awake until three in the morning trying to figure out how Stark’s energy systems worked.

And apparently Bruce had neglected to mention that Stark would be attending.

There was another thing Bruce had neglected to mention.

Tony Stark had a child.

And Bruce intended to introduce them.

—————-

Tim is 24 and 5’10”.