Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tim had successfully pissed off two investors and an elderly woman he thought might be on Wayne Enterprises’ board of directors.

They hadn’t had much of a reaction, but you see, Tim had grown up in high society. He knew all their little tricks. The two men’s slight scowls and the woman’s pursed lips were basically the snob socialite equivalent of being pissed off.

He had also been drinking champagne for twenty minutes, which was about fifteen minutes longer than he thought he would be drinking champagne tonight.

At the parties he’d attend with his parents when he had been younger there had been alcohol, of course, but he had always been steered clear of them just as the other kids had been. He wouldn’t have even thought about trying to get his hands on a drink, fearful of the disapproval of the adults around him, and his parents would have done away with it immediately.  

Nobody planning the event had considered the possibility that someone at the meeting could be underage, and admittedly, Tim was the only minor here, so champagne was just like, freely available.

He hadn’t expected to have his champagne sequestered, but he had expected a few verbal jabs, though so far, apart from a few extra judging glances the glass in his hands had received, and the two old ladies in the corner that were staring at him judgingly, nobody had even said a word.

There were security guards around that could be informed, but Tim figured the combined bizarreness of him being there in the first place and the prospect of having to tell Bruce Wayne’s son not to drink alcohol at a Wayne Industries meeting was throwing everyone off enough to not comment on it.

“Tim?” A familiar voice said. Speak of the devil.

Tim spun around, glass in hand. “Oh hey Bruce! You’re finally here.”

“What are you doing he- are you drinking champagne?”

Bruce plucked the glass out of Tim’s hands, to his dismay. 

So much for nobody doing anything about it.

At the rate he had been going, he’d bet Bart he could keep the champagne for another hour or so before someone attempted to intervene. 

“It’s really good champagne. A lot better than the shitty wine they had at the last shareholder meeting.”

“The last shareholder meeting- Tim, aren't you supposed to be in Metropolis?” 

Bruce seemed conflicted between keeping up his playboy, slightly airheaded Bruce Wayne persona and interrogating Tim about what he was doing here.

The room was large and warmly lit, the décor on the walls as elegant as the suits and dresses the socialites and businessmen milling around in small groups were wearing, conversing in soft murmurs. 

“Metropolis? I leave for that tomorrow.” 

Tim was going over to Metropolis to spend time with Conner for a few days, but he wasn't leaving till tomorrow afternoon. His stuff wasn’t even packed yet, suitcase flung open on his bed and clothing sparse all over his bedroom. He’d swore to Alfred before he’d left for this party that the mess was both a temporary and a well structured one, and to please leave it alone as it would be gone by tomorrow.

Alfred didn’t deserve to have to deal with that, and if he put stuff away it would be according to his own organizational system, and Tim would also not be able to find any of his stuff in time on his own. 

Bruce was still looking mildly confused. He’d opted for the Bruce Wayne persona, the only reason Tim could read the expression on his face in the first place.

“Did you not know I was here?” Tim asked. “I told you ‘see you later’ before leaving the Manor.” 

Tim had even received a neutral grunt from Bruce, which was the equivalent of a heartfelt goodbye for him.

“I thought you meant later as in when you came back from Metropolis. Tim, what are you doing here?”

“Why am I here,” Tim repeated. “At a meeting.” Well, meeting slash dinner party, but all Wayne Enterprise Business meetings were extra like that. “At a shareholder meeting. For your company.”

“Yes.”

“Bruce." Tim said slowly. “Bruce. I'm the controlling shareholder of Wayne Enterprises. You know that, right?”

Bruce had been the one to set up the whole plan in the first place. He’d drafted the documents and the will that would transfer all of his assets to Tim. He had to be aware it had gone through, right?

“Right.” Bruce said stiffly. “It might have slipped my mind.”

Holy shit.

“You forgot I legally own twenty six percent of your company?”

Bruce looked genuinely thrown for a second. He looked around the room, full of other shareholders and investors. “Then what am I here as?”

A shareholders meeting was probably a terrible time to realize one owned zero percent of the company that carried their name.

“Did it not occur to you that you are technically no longer a shareholder?” Tim asked curiously. “You’ve been back for like, a while.”

If possible, Bruce’s posture got even stiffer. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

Bruce wanted to know if Tim thought anyone would notice if he just left, since apparently, having no shares gave him no reason to be here. 

“I mean, people will probably notice,” Tim told him. “You just got here. Also, you are Bruce Wayne. Like, regardless of how much you do or do not own. That’s a pretty big thing. People expect you to be here.”

This was his first appearance in public in a while, not counting the fake Bruce Wayne ones, and Bruce was clearly not as accustomed to prolonged interaction with people as he had been.

It was either that or the concussion Batman had gotten the night before was making him want to leave early.

Tim hadn’t been there when it had happened, but Babs had sent him security camera footage with no explanation attached that had turned out to be of Batman walking into a pole last night. Tim had subsequently re-received the video from both Duke and Dick, so it was safe to say it already made the rounds between his siblings.

It would be a shame if Bruce left so early though, he hadn't even had a chance to try the mini salmon and truffle cream crostini. Those were 'simply exquisite', as Tim had told one of the businessmen earlier. He hadn’t been very interested in debating the virtues of good salmon and bread with Tim, nor of any of the other appetizers. 

He had gotten a woman to talk about mint plants with him though, but that was mostly because she worked for Wayne Botanical and had had strong opinions on the matter of mint production. The conversation had arisen from the mini artichoke cream cheese cups that were also being passed around.

“I don’t think you should leave yet, B. If nothing else, the food is good.”

To prove his point, he picked a few hors d'oeuvres at random from a nearby table and handed them to Bruce, who took them distractedly before realizing he now had his hands full with both the glass from before and the food.

“Tim, I’m not hungry. What are you- what am I supposed to do with these?” he said, exasperated.

“Eat them?” Tim suggested. “If you’ve got your hands full, I can take my champagne back.”

“No.”

It had been worth a shot.

Tiffany Fox ended up coming to rescue them from Bruce’s current predicament, or opposite of rescue, depending on your point of view, clocking Bruce from across the room and approaching them, followed by her sister. “Mr. Wayne, you cannot possibly leave now. This is your first public appearance in a while and- oh hi Tim-”

“Hi Tiffany, Tam.”

“-and I have three people in the other room that want to talk to you right now. Could you come with me, please?”

Tiffany half manhandled Bruce towards the door.

Tim exchanged an amused glance with Tam and followed them into the adjacent, equally posh and decorated room, stopping to snag a champagne glass from a nearby waiter’s tray. Without breaking off his conversation with Tiffany, Bruce plucked it out of his hands and returned it to the waiter’s tray.

Tim scowled. 

“What were you guys talking about before we arrived? Hope it wasn’t anything important. Sorry for barging in,” Tam said.

“Oh no worries. We were discussing the fact that Bruce currently has no stocks in Wayne Enterprises.”

“Yea, that’s a whole thing my dad wants to talk to you about eventually. Did you just realize this now?”

Well, Tim had known. Bruce hadn’t. Though Tim hadn’t known Bruce hadn’t known.

“...we’ve had a lot on our minds.”

Tim didn’t have much else to do while Tiffany carted Bruce around the room to talk to various people besides watch on in amusement. He talked to Tam briefly before she too moved on, and let his mind wander.

The actual, business part of this event was starting soon, one that Tim had little interest for, most of it was a lot of talking and sucking up to the investors before they got to the actual important part of the discussion. Tim had fallen asleep in these meetings before. Luckily, he’d come prepared this time, and the briefcase he was lugging around was far from empty and not just for show. 

A familiar looking lady with the poofiest hair Tim had ever seen approached him, a sickly sweet smile on her face. Tim had met her before. He wracked his brain for a name. Mrs. Sullivan? Possibly? Whatever her name was, she and her husband were both pricks and Tim did not want to talk to her right now, especially since they were just about to start the shareholder proposals discussion (if everything went according to schedule) and Tim wanted to get a seat in the very back.

“Timothy Drake, right?” she asked. 

“Who?” Tim replied innocently.

The woman faltered. “Oh don’t be silly Timothy, we’ve talked before.”

That was regrettably true. Looked like Tim's efforts to forget everything about that horrid interaction had been one-sided.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Tim took the opportunity while she hesitated at that to grab half a dozen shrimp off a nearby table. “Can you hold this for me?”

He shoved the shrimp into her hands, flashed a smile, and hurried off.

Tim had a very boring speech to attend, case files to work on and appetizers to rank.

He ran into Bruce again while they all made their way to the same area, now released of his guest entertaining duties. 

Bruce was adamant that they weren’t going to vote him on the Board of Directors. 

Tim couldn’t tell if he was concerned by the prospect of not being on his company’s board or glad he wouldn’t have to sit through any meetings. 

“They can’t not put you on the board.” Tim told him. “I mean, you’re Bruce Wayne. It's Wayne Enterprises. Wayne is in the name.”

“I’m not even a shareholder, Tim.” Bruce was eyeing a woman in a green dress who looked like she wanted to talk to him with a mild amount of unease.

“Yea, but you’re Bruce Wayne. Also, many people don’t know that. We didn't publicize the fact that you gave me all your stocks. People would have thought you’d gone mad.”

“They’re not going to put me on the board,” Bruce said firmly. 

“Do you want to be on the board?” Tim asked curiously. “Given that I have like, a quarter of the company’s voting shares. I feel like this is important information.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be here? On a school night, too? Surely this is no place to be doing homework.” 

Even in the last row of seats Tim was not free from people asking him patronizing questions. Couldn’t they let him work on this homicide case in peace?

He slowly looked up from his papers to stare at the man. “I don’t have school.”

“Then what are you working on?”

“Divorce papers,” he said flatly. “How are things with the wife? Do you want a copy of them? I have extra.” 

Tim migrated from his place in the last row and ended up next to Lucius, Tiffany and Tam Fox sometime during the meeting. He’d wanted to ask Tam for her opinions on the hors d'oeuvres ranking he’d scrawled on a spare piece of paper after he’d gotten tired of reading autopsy reports, and needed a tie breaker for the third and fourth place contenders. They had both been really good.

Tam had listened to him for approximately five seconds before shooting him an exasperated look and pointedly ignoring him. Fair, but rude. Tim flipped a coin and solemnly moved the deviled eggs from joint third place with the shrimp lemon thing down to fourth place.

For all of his insisting that he wouldn’t, Bruce ended up on the board of directors. The man in question just looked tired as everyone clapped and people started to break off in small groups, the meeting adjourned. 

“I do not have time to be on the board,” he said as soon as he rejoined Tim and the Fox family.

“I mean, at least you’re not CEO. That’s a whole different nightmare. How much is Lucius Fox getting paid? I’ve been CEO, whatever you're paying him isn't enough.” 

That caught Bruce's attention. “Right. How long were you CEO for?” 

“Co-CEO” Tim corrected. He’d shared the role with Lucius Fox. “Like. one week. I’ve also been on the board. They kicked me off though. It's not too bad. Too many old men. Present company excluded.”

“Tim Drake showed up to more meetings as head of Wayne Enterprises without having to be coerced than you have in the past ten years.” Lucius told Bruce sternly.

“I suppose a few meetings a year aren't bad,” Bruce allowed. “At least I’m not the Chairman.” 

Wait, he wasn’t the chairman? Tim had missed that. 

“Were you or were you not paying attention?” Tam asked.

“Half paying attention. I was working on a case file in the back row. Oh since you’re here Bruce, what did you like more, the deviled eggs or the lemon shrimp thing? I don’t know what it’s called. Tam refuses to tiebreak for me.”

Tam sighed. “Why do you even attend these events?”

“Oh, I’m just here to make the other shareholders nervous and eat the hors d'oeuvres. Vote in the proposals so they’re less shitty. And vote Bruce onto the board of directors, apparently.”

He had been paying attention some of the time.

“Are you drinking champagne again?” Bruce interrupted, exasperated. 

There went his glass again, goddamn it.

“I’m not actually drinking, you know?” Tim said at Tam’s disapproving look. “I just hold the glass until Bruce notices and gets annoyed.”

“Why are you like this?” 

“So, do you like,” Tim felt compelled to offer on the drive back. “Want your shares back?” 

Kon thought the whole thing was fucking hilarious.

He had bent over laughing two minutes ago and was still shaking silently. Tim had thought he had been poisoned for a terrifying ten seconds or so.

“It’s not that funny.”

“No, it is. You're the controlling shareholder of one of the biggest companies in the world. How much company sway do you still have? Could you get on the board again? Can you be CEO?”

Tim considered that. “I do not have time to be CEO. Either I would die or the company would collapse. But I could try to get on the Board again maybe. When I have more free time. Keep them on their toes.”  

“Please do that.”