"And you hold your partner as so," the younger man hold's Jay's hand as he twirls Bruce's ward for the third time.
He'd gone to the dance class in order to talk to Jay, but instead, he'd been staring at the instructor for the past five minutes. Watching the way he'd whisper something at the frowning young boy that both would laugh at so merrily. How bright the teacher sounded, despite the snickers coming from the other students.
"Those are the basics everyone," Grayson comments as Jay returns to his dance partner, "I need you all to learn those moves by the next meeting. Use your time right now to get used to your partner, I'll be right back."
The instructor looks towards his direction and smiles, walking closer to the bench Bruce occupied. And Bruce can't help but curse at the way his eyes are tracking every movement Grayson made, from the swish of his dark brown hair to the sway of his hips, all in tune to his fluid gait.
"Like what you see?"
"What?" Bruce fights the guilty blush as he stands.
"You approve of what I'm teaching your son?" Grayson stares at him, eyebrow raised in question.
"Jay's not my son," the blurt feels too eager for even his ears.
Grayson laughs and Bruce finds himself cataloguing how it sounds. How different the pitch is compared to his peers. How real and jovial.
"Ah, no wonder he calls you B instead of dad," the younger man extends a hand, "name's Dick Grayson."
"Jay's spoken about you as well, Mr. Grayson," Bruce accepts the hand and wonders at the calluses not unlike his own.
"Hope they're about how great I am," Grayson rocks on his feet, "and please, all my friends call me Dick."
"They were for the most part, Mr. Grayson." Bruce eyes the growing smile on Dick's face. Feels an answering smile struggle to form.
"Stubborn man," Dick chuckles, "how can I help you today?"
"A message for Jay."
"He's busy right now," Dick monotones, "please leave a message after the beep."
Bruce feels the upturn of his lips before he can stop it.
"Aha, a beautiful smile."
He raises an eyebrow.
"You've had a blank expression since I started walking to you," Dick holds a hand to his chest, still grinning, "I thought I'd offended you in some way."
"Hn as in yes, or hn as in no?"
Dick stares at him for a second, then looks towards his students. His smile never wavers. Pride lights up his features in a way that Bruce thinks fathers would...
"I'd like to speak to him, myself."
"Then you're just gonna have to wait," Dick frowns and crosses his arms, "I want all my students to take this seriously."
And Bruce can't decide if he's relieved that the other man has other expressions, or disturbed that he feels he's done something wrong.
"Don't you think dance lessons are important?" And Bruce can't describe the look aimed his way other than puppy-dog eyes
The answer doesn't sit well with the instructor and Bruce spends the last thirty minutes of class listening to Dick's passionate description of the wonders of swing. He notices the children watching in his peripheral vision, but most of his attention stays on the younger man, whose emotions change so suddenly it's over whelming. Observes Dick's hands, constantly moving as he explains the virtues of dance. How graceful each movement the other man makes, despite the frustration he seems to be feeling.
It's been a while since someone's kept his attention this long but, as much as he'd like to listen longer, he sees the children whispering. Hears whistles, appreciative whistles. Jay's gesturing with his hands and
"Would you like to teach me?" Bruce asks. Jay had called him during break, something about bullying in class, but if the students surrounding him and the heart shaped gesture is anything to go by…
Dick's mouth opens and closes for a moment. And Bruce can't feel too bad with the question when that handsome smile comes surging back.
"Of course," Dick almost yells, clears his throat and says in a quieter tone, "I'd love to teach you, Mr. Wayne."
"Please, call me Bruce."
And Dick beams at him for a second before noticing the oohs and aahs his students have been making. Blushes as he yells for them to pack up and leave.
The other man stops mid-sentence and faces him, eyebrow raised.
"It's been a pleasure meeting you," Bruce smiles and turns to leave.
"Wait! I thought you needed to talk to Jay."
"Children and their games." Bruce says, "I'll be calling your receptionist at another time."
"I… yes I'll be waiting," he hears whispered a moment later.
Can't help the slight turn of his lips as he sits in the waiting room for Jason to arrive.