Good Guys Don't Always Wear Trousers 1

"You want me to do WHAT?!" Wally screeched, green eyes wide. "No way! No way in HELL!"

"Wally, you know we need eyes in there and they won't be looking for someone trying to catch their eye they'll be looking for someone much more subtervert," said Clark, folding his arms across his chest.

"That part I understand," griped Wally, hands perching themselves neatly on his hips and torso leaning forwards towards Clark slightly, "but why in the seven hells do I have to play a girl? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a bloke and there are two other female members of this team."

"One," Bruce spoke up with an edge to his tone, "I am expected to have a woman on my arm when I go and I will not have someone I don't trust. Two, Diana is in Themyscara at the moment as you well know and won't be back for a while unless a dire emergency pops up and three, Shayera is far too volatile for this kind of thing. The wings are also a dead give-away. You have far more patience than she ever would."

"What about J'onn? He's a shapeshifter, he could do it!" The speedster poked a finger in the Martian's direction, and J'onn simply raised both eye ridges.

"I could, yes, but aside from the fact that portraying the opposite gender is difficult I still do not have a convincing enough grasp on the traits of humans, especially females, that I could successfully pull something like this off." As if to emphasize his point he shifted form into that of a young blond woman. The looks were perfect; high cheekbones, full, slightly pouting lips, small ears with simple gold studs decorating them, straight nose that was neither large or small and a heart-shaped face. It should have been Wally's dream girl, his ideal image, but something was wrong about her and he saw immediately what J'onn meant.

His stance was awkward, feet just slightly too far apart and pulled inwards inelegantly. His hands curled, unsure about where they should go. His back was too straight, announcing his collarbone more than was necessary. His neck was tensed and perfectly centered. He should have been feet together, weight on one foot making his hips push out at different heights and hands settled neatly on them. His back should have been straight but not militarily so, and as a result would have softened the harsh contours of his shoulders. Head would have been tilted to one side slightly, neck relaxed and shown off.

Wally saw instantly what J'onn had tried to say before, and groaned. "I'm really the only option, aren't I?" he said, burying his face in his hands. Clark grimaced and put a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"We wouldn't ask if there was no other way," he said sympathetically, awkwardly watching the red-head flush with embarrassment. J'onn shifted back to his normal form and exchanged a look with Bruce.

"Oh god." Wally's head shot out of his hands and he pierced Bruce with an emerald gaze. "That means I'm gonna have to practice my simpering and giggling and general girliness and then drape myself all over you like I'm starstruck, aren't I? Christ, there goes every shred of dignity I ever had."

"Actually," said Bruce with a half-smile at the images Wally was producing, "no. I want a refined and reserved young lady with a bright smile and some semblance of intelligence for once in my life."

"Really?" Wally's green gaze seemed to light up slightly at the thought that maybe some scraps of his dignity might remain.

"Really." They stared at each other for several seconds, before Wally turned away with a slightly flustered expression.

"That still leaves me as a woman on your arm," he said quietly.

Bruce's eyebrow shot up and he couldn't resist the jab Wally was just asking for with that statement. "And is there something wrong with my arm?"

Clark's chin just about met his chest that Batman was actually teasing Flash openly and with no gruffness or monotony about it. Wally grinned brightly as he internally pointed out the same thing to himself that Clark had, but then reddened wonderfully once more and stammered that no, Bruce's arm was just fine it was just he'd never been the one on the arm and how was he supposed to be convincing as Bruce's date, because hello, he worked with the billionaire on a daily basis and in crisis situations which was probably not the best time to get to know someone personally-

Wally's babbling was cut off expertly by a simple raise of the dark-haired man's hand. "You, Wally, probably know me better than anyone else here and that is solely because you are good at reading people. I'm sure you'll have no problems."

"Right," said Wally faintly, stumbling backwards into his conference table chair. "'Course I won't."

-x-

"I swear to God Dick, one more laugh-" Wally was cut off from his threat by Iris smacking him upside the head to shut him up and make him stand still, and green eyes glared at the woman. Dick's poorly-muffled giggles just got worse.

"Dude, I'm sorry, it's just..."

"Don't say it. It's embarrassing enough I'm doing this, I don't need your help," Wally groused back at his best friend. Dick merely sat back with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, and Iris sighed.

"You two aren't making this any easier on anyone," she pointed out with the endless patience only a speedster's woman seemed to be capable of. "I'm the one doing most of the work here, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Kyle is here too," Dick reminded her. "I'd hate to leave him out."

"At least he's doing something."

"What? I am doing something! I'm the moral support."

"Right, 'course you are," Wally groaned and clamped his hands to his face to hide reddening cheeks, refusing to remove them when Iris tried. His aunt huffed and put her hands on her hips, studying her nephew up and down just as Kyle walked back in.

"What do you think, Kyle?" she asked him. He sent the red-headed woman an entertained look.

"I think you're taking this whole thing far too well," he told her, holding out three of the dresses that had caught their eye earlier that day. "Your nephew has taken up cross-dressing and you're just fine with-ow!" Kyle jumped as a sneaker hit him on the back of his head, and rubbing it he looked amusedly back at Wally still armed with his other shoe.

"I. Am. Not. Cross-dressing," the speedster growled. "Don't make me use this one too!" He waved his other sneaker around in an attempt to intimidate, but all it did was send Iris and Dick off into another fit of giggles and make Kyle grin madly. It was hard to look intimidating with a single lonely shoe when you were only dressed in your skivvies and Batman socks.

Iris managed to calm herself pretty quickly, but Wally's so-called moral support just couldn't stop. "I stopped questioning Wally's antics a long time ago dear," she said to Kyle in reply to his earlier statement. "His and Barry's both. They got themselves into the oddest situations so eventually I learned it was better not to ask and just go with it. Things always worked out." She held up one of the dresses and brought it over to her nephew, who grudgingly stood still while she and Kyle assessed it. "I'm surprised you agreed to this, though."

"I'm an artist, it's my nature to create. Anyone else in the League would likely fuck this up big time," Kyle shrugged. "That, and the League quite often gets into its own weird situations. While this is a new one for me, it's by no means the strangest thing we've ever done."

"That's all Wally's fault really, Mrs Allen," threw in Dick, cackles finally subsiding. "He has this talent for trouble."

"Do not," Wally shot back, sticking out his tongue and feeling relieved when Iris discarded the dress. It really wasn't his style.

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do no-"

"Ladies, shush!" Kyle said exasperatedly as he held out another gown. "Are you always like this?"

"Only when they're in the same vicinity," Iris said, tilting her head to one side at the dress. "Yes, I like this one. The ruffles would hide the hips. Or, lack thereof."

"I'm not wearing anything with ruffles!" squawked Wally indignantly, pushing the dress away in a huff and folding his arms across his chest. "There's no need to add insult to injury. If I'm going to be wearing a dress, I at least want to be the one to choose it."

Kyle's palm took the opportunity to make friends with his face. "You're not making this easy, West," he grumbled.

"Good," sniped the speedster in reply. "No self-respecting guy would ever be caught dead doing this."

"Isn't it a good thing you have no self-respect then?" said Dick teasingly, cheerfully avoiding the second shoe to be thrown that afternoon.

"You try that with the heels, young man, and you're in serious bother," warned Iris, adopting her 'scolding mother' attitude.

"Yes Aunt Iris." Wally backed down, recognizing danger when he saw it, much to the amusement to the other two men in the room. The older woman shook her head, and then held out the final dress of the set.

Wally's eyes trailed down it, and his first thought was that it was better than the eleven others they had already gone through. It went from a dark, forest green at the top to a pale almost-white green at the hem, decorated with a pale blue vine of whirling patterns running up the right side. A halterneck brought the top of the dress up, which would be good for hiding any obvious flaws about womanlyness or lack thereof, and a layered skirt flared it out at the waist to give the impression of hips even though no one occupied the garment yet. It was simple, elegant, and as far as Wally could see it would do the job. He bit his lip and nodded at the dress.

"That one," he said quietly. "I like that one."

"You... like it?" Iris looked at her nephew startled, and he scowled at her.

"The design," he snapped. "It's a decent design to suit the situation, it's simple, it doesn't scream 'stare at me' and it's formal enough."

"He's right," Kyle butted in as Dick opened his mouth to say something. "I actually liked this one as a candidate while we were picking it out, but I didn't think Wally would agree with me."

"Like I said, if I'm wearing it I get to pick the damn thing." Wally shook his head and walked up to Iris, examining the dress and testing the material with his fingers. "Why do women like to wear these things so much anyway? Surely they're drafty and they certainly don't keep you warm." The red-head eyed his aunt, and Dick and Kyle couldn't help the simultaneous snorts of laughter.

Iris simply raised an eyebrow. "Because you men can't keep your eyes off us," she replied simply. Wally conceded the point with a quick grin as Kyle smiled sheepishly and Dick murmured, "touché." Which, really, said it all.

"So," Iris said, holding out the dress, "let's get you into this and see what's what."

Wally snatched the gown off his aunt, unclasped the halter and unzipped the back. Or, what there was of the back, it showed rather a lot of skin. The fact that a pair of Celtic wings ran right up from the small of his back to his shoulders made him slightly uneasy, but he mentally waved that away as he stepped into the dress. It hooked around his neck quite nicely, and when Kyle stepped around back and zipped Wally up again the bodice settled well on his figure. The red-head didn't take to the idea very well, and scowled.

"It fits," he grumbled. "I can't believe it fucking fits."

"Suits you," commented Dick. He put up a hand in surrender when Wally turned to face him with a fist raised in warning. "No, I'm serious Wally. It looks okay on you."

"That is not a good thing, Dickie."

"Don't call me Dickie," was the automatic response, to which Wally simply blew a raspberry.

"He's right though, sweetie, it looks good on you. Goes with your hair and your eyes." Iris looked her nephew up and down contemplatively, and Wally groaned in resignation.

"I can feel my masculinity fading away more and more every moment that passes," he cried dramatically. "What else can you do to me, woman?"

"Is that a challenge?" Iris raised an eyebrow as Kyle sniggered.

"No!" Wally visibly backpedalled, eyes widening and his hands coming out in front of him. "No no no it was not a challenge. Don't you dare."

"I would suggest," Dick intervened with a vague wave of his hand, "that we lose the socks. They really don't go, and I don't think the 80's are back in fashion yet."

Wally looked longingly at the row of heels sat to one side of the room, then to his aunt. "Are you sure I can't use them for ammo?" He begged.

"You can't, no." Iris turned a mischievous grin towards Dick. "Doesn't mean I can't."

The dark-haired man wisely clamped his mouth shut and mimed an exaggerated zipping motion across his lips. Iris nodded in satisfaction before her attentions were once more on the dress and its occupant.

"I think we're going to need to take the waist in slightly, and bring the chest pieces together a bit more. They're a bit too far apart." She knelt and fingered the hem of the dress. "We'll take the hem down too, I'd say it's a little too short."

"Girl knows best," Kyle said with a sigh, and got to work pinning the dress just as Iris instructed him. "Good thing we've got a week and a bit yet to do this."

Wally found the hard way that unless he kept really still Kyle was liable to stab him with the pins. As a speedster though it wasn't in his nature to be still, and he hadn't even lasted two minutes before the artist gave notice to the fine tremors running through Wally's frame as he fought the urge to fidget. Kyle never commented though, just kept up the adjustments until the waist and cleavage covers were fitted as necessary.

Dick took that opportunity to break the zip-lipped silence Iris scared him into. "Say, what are we going to do about breasts?"

"DICK!" Wally turned around to give his friend a mortified expression.

The acrobat raised both hands. "Hey, it's a perfectly valid question! As good as you look in that dress, you're really not filling the top bit out nearly enough to convince anyone of femininity."

The speedster blushed as red as his hair, freckles suddenly much more pronounced on his high cheekbones. Kyle patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

"Prosthetics," said Iris simply. "Trust me, by the time we're done with you, Wally, you'll be perfect."

"That's what I'm afraid of," replied the red-head with a groan.

-x-

Wally resisted the urge to itch at the back of his head; Kyle and Iris had started clipping in hair extensions about an hour ago, and while they were nearly done the temptation to scratch at his head had been growing incredibly strong up to this point. He felt proud of himself for his self-control, and then mentally smacked himself when he remembered why he was having to exert said self-control. No, he was NOT proud of hair extensions damnit!

Although, he thought with resignation when Kyle finished clipping the last of the extensions in and Iris held up the mirror so he could see the result, he did pull off the long hair pretty well. It kind of suited his face shape. He whined quietly and pushed the mirror away.

"C'mon sweetie, remember why you're doing this," Iris soothed. She tilted his chin up and gave him a motherly peck on the forehead. "You want that man in jail, right?"

"Yes, Auntie, more than anything. He's been eluding us since before I ever thought about joining the Force. I just... wish there was some other way of doing this. Couldn't Bruce be happy with just taking me as I am?"

Kyle tilted his head to one side. "I'm sure he would if he could," he replied. "You know what Bruce Wayne is like though."

"I can't imagine." Wally's green eyes shuttered.

Kyle and Iris exchanged a look, before the artist frowned slightly at the speedster. "What do you mean, Wally?"

"I can't imagine what Bruce Wayne is like, no," he clarified. "What it must be like for him to have to put up with air-headed bimbos who couldn't care less about him as a person plastered to his body and vulture businessmen who couldn't tell the truth to save their lives and the idiocy of the press who just LOVE to try and scandalize him and the fawning of those who think he's such a living angel." Wally shook his head. "Bruce shouldn't have to put up with all that just to protect his identity. He deserves someone who knows him, knows his secrets and scars and faults and misguided virtues and loves him anyway, despite and because of it. He needs a rock to hold on to, because his life isn't going to get any easier."

Iris's eyes narrowed appraisingly at her nephew while Kyle simply looked thoughtful. "I see," was all he said, before swinging the hapless red-head round to face them. Wally briefly wondered what they were going to do next, but answered his own question when Iris pulled out a bag full to the brim with cosmetics.

"Don't worry darling, we won't be using all of it," she said, lips upturning slightly. "And Kyle will be putting it on."

"I have a much more delicate touch than your aunt," added Kyle dryly, to a smack on the arm from the aforementioned woman.

"I can believe that," said Wally teasingly, grinning at Iris as her expression turned to mock-hurt.

"And I'm better with colors. I've got the rest of today to experiment." Kyle held up a small angled brush and a pot of dark blue eyeshadow. "Now, shall we begin?"

-x-

"It itches." Wally scratched at his neck where a string of tiny, delicate pearls hung just below where the halterneck of his dress wrapped around.

"Don't scratch," said Bruce disapprovingly, swatting at the speedster's hand to stop him. The red-head glowered at him and Bruce sighed. "It would be unseemly for a young lady of your stature to have great big scratch marks on her neck. Self-inflicted scratches, no less. Besides, you might damage the recorder in there."

"Young lady..." Wally pulled a face, make-up enhanced features scrunching up in distaste. He turned and looked pointedly out of the window away from Bruce. "What am I supposed to be after anyway?"

"Just information. We want to know who, exactly, is backing our delightful host and what they're supplying him with."

"And me dressing up like a girl is going to help that."

Bruce canted his head to one side slightly. "Women are far more above suspicion than men, and for someone like Mickey Dunn telling a woman with a pretty face something he shouldn't will be far easier than casual conversation with the likes of me."

"You mean the likes of Bruce Wayne." Wally gave him a pointed look.

"I am Bruce Wayne, Wally, in case you forgot."

"You," retorted Wally, poking a finger none-too-gently into Bruce's chest, "are NOT Bruce Wayne. Not this Bruce Wayne, at least. Batman is more like you than Wayne. I think you're losing some of your sense of self, Bruce. I'm worried about you."

"Don't be, Wally. I'm fine." The billionaire laid a gentle hand on the red-head's shoulder for a moment. "I know who I am, and if it ever gets to the point that I don't then I know you'll remind me."

Wally stayed silent for a moment, then raised green eyes made even more startling by their make-up to lock with darkened blue. "It's a promise," he said quietly.

"Good. Now, remember while you're here you'll need to play submissive. Dunn won't give anything away if he thinks you're too in command or control, so be sure to follow my lead. I'll give leeway for decisions of your own, but Wally..." Bruce trailed off for a moment. "You're going to need to be a woman in every sense of the word. Understand?"

He watched as Wally's face went thoughtful, then hardened with resolve. That then smoothed into a perfect visage of cool charm and class as they came up to the party venue.

As instructed, when they pulled up Wally waited until Bruce had got out and opened the door for him, taking the offered hand and pulling himself delicately out of the car. Despite his small stature and slightly filled-out body Wally was, at that moment in time, more than capable of captivation with the best of them.

His dress settled around him, four layers of skirt flaring outwards all the way to the floor to trail behind him slightly in a very elegant gesture. Hair extensions falling in loose layers around his face and down his back, light make-up set to enhance his features rather than create ones that weren't there and a pair of magnetic pearl earrings completed the look, and Bruce had to admit that if he didn't already know that Wally was a guy he would have been completely fooled. With Iris West and Kyle Rayner's patient guidance and Dick's helpful hysterical laughter from the sidelines, in a little under two weeks they had turned the Scarlet Speedster into a lady worthy of a Wayne.

He offered his "date" an arm, and the speedster took it after a milisecond's hesitation. "I feel like a complete idiot," he hissed into Bruce's ear. The billionaire struggled to ignore the feeling of warm breath ghosting over it.

"You're doing fine. Stop worrying and don't think about it," he whispered back, leaning into the red-head so it looked flirtatiously natural. Wally immediately cottoned on and pulled a small faux-coy smile in response.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one in a dress."

"No, I think I'd cause a lot of heart-attacks," remarked Bruce dryly, causing Wally to smother a cackle and stumble slightly in the heels he'd spent forever learning to walk properly in. Bruce merely sent him an amused look, which earned him a glare in response, before they reached the bouncers admitting the guests to the party.

Bruce wordlessly handed his invitation over - Master Bruce Wayne (plus one) - and they were quickly ushered inside after a blushing Wally had handed over a jade purse for examination. The billionaire couldn't help the small laugh that erupted the minute they were out of earshot, and Wally retaliated with a heel to his toe. Bruce didn't get a chance to berate him over the fact that even thick-heeled shoes hurt like the pit before they were both acosted by a couple of Bruce's business partners.

"Mister Wayne!" greeted Harry Matheson, thrusting out a hand with a megawatt smile. Wally was willing to bet anything he bleached his teeth. "So excellent to see you here! Quite the surprise really, I'd heard you'd become somewhat of a recluse."

"Well, I finally tried to take people's advice and tone down the partying a bit," responded Bruce in such a falsely cheery tone as he shook the other man's hand that Wally nearly physically winced. "Couldn't do it though. I'm breaking curfew tonight."

"Oh Wayne, living dangerously." Matheson smirked. The man next to Matheson also put out a hand, which Bruce shook politely.

"Andrew Kilroy, I've only recently become a partner," he said.

"Oh yes, Mr Kilroy, I remember your deal. Our lab equipment providers now, aren't you, after our last supplier went bust?" Bruce tapped his chin thoughtfully.

"That's me," replied Kilroy, seemingly pleased that Bruce had remembered. He then turned his attention on Wally, and slowly looked the red-head up and down. "And tell me, Wayne, who is this vision on your arm tonight?"

"This? This is a colleague of mine-"

"Iris West," put in Wally gently, voice pitched slightly higher than normal, extending his hand politely towards Kilroy. "Senior lab technician. I hear I've you to thank for our new nano-microscope." The business man took it and lifted it to his lips briefly, sly smile sliding briefly across his face. Wally withdrew his hand as fast as he could without looking nervous, and unconsciously stepped behind Bruce to put a bit of a barrier between himself and Kilroy.

The two men kept Bruce for several minutes, before they were both saved by a familiar and friendly face. Bruce's stance relaxed marginally and Wally's shoulders lost their tension as Oliver Queen danced into the conversation and whisked the two men away with a quick verbal exchange.

When they were off to one side Oliver gave Bruce a lopsided smile. "You looked like you needed rescuing, and who am I to pass up a once-in-a-lifetime chance to save Bruce Wayne?"

"It's appreciated," assured Bruce, returning the smile briefly. Oliver then canted his head at the red-head behind the billionaire and stared for several seconds before sighing and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I'm so sorry," he began, "but you look really familiar and I have no idea of your name. Have we met?"

Wally started. Of course Ollie would recognize him, why didn't they ever think of that? Still, the blond man couldn't seem to place him so Wally tried his bluff. "No, Mr Queen, we haven't, but I've heard a lot about you. I'm Iris." He deliberately left off the last name in case it jogged Arrow's memory.

"Hmm..." Oliver studied him for a moment more, then shrugged and smiled lightly. "You must just remind me of someone else. I honestly can't believe I'd forget a woman like you."

"Thanks," mumbled Wally, embarrassed of the praise and relieved the ruse was working. Bruce turned to Wally slightly at that point.

"Iris, darling, would you get us some drinks?"

Wally caught the unsaid words after his mind stalled at Bruce calling him 'darling': take your time and listen out. "Of course, Bruce." He trailed his fingers over Bruce's neck in a gesture that was an acknowledgement as much as a cover, and when they vanished Bruce couldn't explain the sudden feeling of loss that shadowed him briefly. When he turned back to Oliver the blond had a slightly wistful expression on.

"That's one heck of a gal you've bagged there Bruce," he said.

"She's here for my cover, nothing more." Bruce pursed his lips slightly; it still felt very odd refering to the speedster as female, and he had to be incredibly careful not to slip up. "I needed someone with some semblence of a brain."

"Good choice then," replied Oliver, amused. He studied the direction Wally had gone. "I still think she's irritatingly familiar, though I don't recognize the name. Are you sure we've never met before?"

"You may have done, I don't know what Iris gets up to in her spare time." Bruce shrugged nonchantly.

"You don't keep tabs on her, yet you trust her enough to bring her into an undercover reconnaisance mission?" Oliver looked torn between incredulity and annoyance. "I thought you were more paranoid than that."

"She's a Leaguer, Ollie," snapped back Bruce without thinking, and then smacked himself mentally for the slip-up. "And before you ask no, I'm not telling you who she is."

"That would explain where I know her from," replied Oliver thoughtfully, tapping his chin slightly and tactfully not nagging for who she was. He was sure to find out one way or another, and it would only piss Bruce off.

Bruce looked at Arrow appraisingly for a moment. "You just here for the party, or for the same reason we are?"

Oliver shrugged slightly. "Same reason you are. Clark figured we could use all hands on deck, and since we both got invitations..."

"Good enough." Bruce nodded over to where Wally was getting the drinks, deliberately taking his time and listening but making it look natural. Bruce couldn't help but be impressed by how good Wally was at acting. "If you see Iris get into anything over her head, help her out. She's been given instructions not to be her usual independant self, so we've got to keep an eye on her."

Oliver nodded, putting a hand on Bruce's shoulder briefly. "Will do, Bruce. Don't worry, it'll be fine."

-x-

Wally left Bruce with Oliver, heart pounding. He put a hand to his chest briefly, calming himself down with a slow exhalation. He picked his way carefully to the drinks table, keeping an ear out to the conversations around him. He didn't hear anything of note about Dunn, but kept listening even as he leaned against the bar table and requested two sparkling lemonades and a champagne. He told the waiter to take his time, so the red-head turned around to face the rest of the hall, one elbow leaning carefully on the bartop and his other hand loosely gripping his dangling wrist.

His gaze cast over the guests, picking out potentially shifty people and rejecting most of them almost immediately. There were a couple he got a feeling keeping an eye on them would be worthwhile, but for the most part the guests were dismissed as just that.

The speedster almost did a double-take as he looked back over to the stairway and found the man Mickey Dunn himself coming down with another man, talking animatedly with a smile on his face. Wally's gaze hardened slightly, and he swivelled back around the face the barman and collect the drinks. He scooped them up and wandered back towards Bruce and Oliver, smiling as he reached them. The red-head handed the two heroes their lemonades, knowing full well they wouldn't drink alcohol on duty.

He, on the other hand, would take 5 minutes to process the alcohol in a glass of champagne. No time at all.

"You guys seen who's just joined, or re-joined the party?" Wally thumbed discreetly over his shoulder. Bruce and Oliver both looked around, and Bruce frowned.

"Dunn. Where did he come from?"

"Upstairs somewhere." Wally studied Dunn's partner. "Who's that with him?"

"Never seen him before." Bruce took out his phone. "But I will."

"I'll save you the trouble," said Oliver, taking a sip of his lemonade and then giving Wally a small smile in thanks when he realized it wasn't alcoholic. "That's Gregorio Malchovic, Russian business man and ties to the mob. If he's here, it's not a good deal that's going down."

"Oh good," muttered Wally sarcastically, "the mob. Just who I always wanted to go after in a dress, because it's such a good idea to go after them at all." Bruce elbowed him subtly as Arrow gave Wally another bemused look, and the speedster scrunched his face up at the blond briefly. "I don't normally wear them. they're too... restricting. And I don't suit them. Besides, who wants to give the bad guys a full view of their panties?"

"Oh I don't know," replied Oliver, stepping back and looking Wally up and down in an appraising but respectful manner. "You seem to suit this dress very nicely. And you should try mentioning the underwear thing to Supergirl, I think Clark is giving himself an aneurysm trying to work out how to deal with a teenaged, distinctly un-male cousin."

Wally snorted elegantly, before turning back to Dunn and his potential partner in crime. "So, what do we do about Tweedledee and Tweedledum over there?"

Oliver smothered a snigger with another sip from his lemonade, and Bruce's lips quirked upwards minutely to acknowledge his positive reaction to Wally's sarcastic humor. He usually only got this sarcastic when he was nervous. As himself he probably wouldn't be, but as Iris he had to watch himself, and he disliked the fact he had to play a woman. He'd been more than uncomfortable with the plan from the beginning, but the stubborn streak that Bruce had always admired about the redhead meant he had accepted the role and would see it through to the bitter end. Though, it had to be said, he didn't really accept the role with any kind of grace, if Iris and Kyle were to be believed.

Bruce shook himself out of his thoughts, turning them back to the matter at hand.

"I think now would be as good a time as any to introduce ourselves and thank him for the invitation. Not all at once," he added as Oliver shifted in a way to start walking. "One after the other, pace it out. Make it natural. You go first, Oliver, you have a way of making people a little more amenable to talking. We'll wait a bit before we go in."

Ollie nodded, and left the remaining two Leaguers to entertain themselves while he made himself useful in an attempt to soften up Dunn. Malchovic had since disappeared into the crowd, though not far, which left their target chatting amiably with a couple of large-chested girls dressed in rather scant ballgowns.

There was silence between Bruce and Wally for a few moments, though it was comfortable and familiar, and they both watched the other guests mingle and interact while finishing off their drinks. Wally didn't normally like or drink champagne, but at a party like this Bruce had gone over the subtle social cues that were commonplace. Women went for champagne more than the men, and didn't drink cocktails unless given them by their date. Men went for the wine, white or red, or the scotches, whiskies and bourbons, saving their more casual drinks of beer and spirits for later when the party got a little looser.

Wally thought they were some of the most daft unspoken rules, but again his stubbornness lead to him learning them and putting them into practice with only the most minimal of protestations.

All of it had accumulated in tonight's performance, which the speedster was holding together nicely. Bruce downed the last of his lemonade in a graceful gesture, noticing Wally's empty glass hanging loosely from his fingers. He took the glass from the speedster, prompting his sudden return to the present. He flushed slightly, letting it go and sending Bruce a small smile before abruptly pointing out the guests he'd spotted earlier as ones to keep an eye on. Bruce nodded in agreement after dismissing one more as simply nervous and not actually as shifty as his tension suggested.

They watched for a couple more moments, Ollie doing a good job of making Dunn relax, before Bruce suddenly piped up with, "dance with me."

Wally started, turning sharply to stare at him with wide green eyes. "Say what?"

"Dance with me," Bruce repeated, holding out a hand for Wally. "Did you really expect to be brought to a formal party like this without at least one dance? Might as well be with someone you know."

Wally looked halfway between aghast and resigned. "Sure we can't say I've sprained my ankle or something?"

"In those heels? No, I don't think so."

"Sadist," Wally muttered, putting his hand in Bruce's and letting the man lead him to the dancefloor. "Are there any more ways you'd like to humiliate me?"

"Why is this so taboo for you? You've done much weirder things for much less." Bruce settled a hand on Wally's waist, placing one of the redhead's on his shoulder, and started a slow sway. Wally immediately fell into step with him, and Bruce began to move them slowly around the floor.

"I don't know." Wally didn't look at him, instead finding their shifting feet inordinately fascinating. "I think I'd normally be okay with it, I just..." He flushed almost as red as his hair and didn't say anymore. Bruce gave him a quizzical look, pulling Wally just a little bit closer so he had to lift his head.

"Just what, Wally?" Bruce asked quietly so only he could hear.

Wally was silent for so long that Bruce was just about to ask again, when he decided to speak up. "I don't like you seeing me like this," he finished in a low voice.

"You don't..." Bruce tilted his head. "Wally, I would never let this bring my respect for you down. If anything, I respect you more for doing this. I know how much work you put into this, I know how much you don't like this and yet you're doing it anyway." He sighed, twirling the redhead around abruptly, gently and secretly admiring the skirt flaring out with the motion. "I just thought you'd rather have the dance of the night with someone you trust."

"Really?" Wally finally looked up at him, emerald eyes meeting his own, wide and hesitantly hopeful. "You don't..." He shook his head, and relaxed. "No, you wouldn't. You wouldn't put me down over this." His blush tones down a little, making his freckles less obvious. "It's still embarrassing though."

"Perhaps for you."

Wally gives him a dry look then. "Thanks, Bruce."

Bruce smiled at him then, small but sincere, and Wally's stomach ended up doing flip-flops when his brain finally fully registered exactly where he was, what he was doing and with whom. His first instinct was to panic and push the billionaire away, but Wally squashed the thought before his body could attempt said reaction. He kept himself firmly where he was, letting the safe feeling sliding around in his mind from Bruce's proximity smother any thoughts of panicking and running.

Their dance lasted a little while longer, until Wally felt Bruce shift in a way that was nothing to do with their dancefloor movements. He parted from Bruce a little, immediately missing the closeness and warmth his sleeveless dress deprived him of, to see Oliver Queen striding towards them. Bruce gave Wally an slightly exasperated look, and lead the speedster to meet him. Ollie's smile when he reached them widened slightly.

"Seems like you two were having fun." He bowed slightly to Wally. "Would you like a dance while Bruce goes to Dunn?"

Wally opened his mouth to decline but Bruce beat him to it, a little tartly. "I need Iris, Oliver. That's the whole reason she's here. I'll leave her with Dunn for a little bit by herself, see what information she can get out of him." He leaned forward slightly. "She'll have an easier time than we will."

Arrow looked disappointed, and Wally silently thanked Bruce. The moment Ollie put his hand on the redhead's waist he would have felt the lack of curves and the solid feeling of muscle instead of the softer feel of flesh. It would have given the game away, and they both knew it. Wally gave Oliver a quick wave as Bruce hauled him off towards Mickey Dunn, and Ollie waved back slightly, a thoroughly confused expression adorning his handsome features.

Wally giggled slightly, falling into step beside and just a little behind the dark-haired billionaire. As they neared their host he slipped into an air of uncertainty and submission, lowering his eyes and settling his hands behind his back. Bruce brushed a reassuring hand over Wally's arm, and then they had reached Dunn and Bruce was introducing them, easily slipping into conversation after thanking the man for his invitation.

Wally stayed quiet for most of Bruce's stay, speaking only when spoken to but listening intently to Dunn's words hoping to catch him out on something, anything, he might let slip. He didn't notice anything in what Dunn was saying, but he did notice how the man's eyes kept going to him, more and more as the conversation continued. Bruce noticed as well, the speedster could tell by the way he was getting more and more tense throughout the whole exchange.

A delicate nudge from Wally was all it took for Bruce to get the hint, and he suddenly looked right past Dunn to where Kilroy and Matheson were stood at the bar chatting with a glass of red for each of them. Kilroy raised a hand to emphasize something he was talking to the other about, and Bruce found his way out. He gave Dunn his best award-winning smile, stepping back slightly.

"If you'll excuse me, Mr Dunn, I believe one of my business partners wishes to speak with me. Can I leave Iris in your care in the meantime?"

Dunn nodded, an off smile twisting his own lips. "But of course, Mr Wayne. I'd be delighted."

"But Bruce-" Wally started, raising a hand towards him, but Bruce made a gesture that clearly said 'stay there'.

"No buts, Iris, you'll be safe enough with Mr Dunn. I'll only be a few moments."

Wally watched him go, something forlorn and vaguely annoyed gracing his features. Mickey noticed, smirking into his drink slightly. "He do that a lot?"

Wally nodded slowly. "More than I care to admit, really. Work comes first for him." He reached up to adjust his necklace, pressing at the clasp subtly to acitvate the recorder hidden in the lowermost pearl.

"I know the feeling. It's why I never go for relationships, they take up too much time from my work." He nodded towards Bruce. "Frankly I'm impressed Mr Wayne is even trying. He's always been a swinger."

"He still is," affirmed Wally, putting a little unforced sadness into his tone. "I'm just... the one he goes to when he needs someone for something more toned down. I'm not his party girl, I'm his reliable girl."

"You must be something special to him then," Dunn said, a little significantly. Wally shook his head gently.

"No, not particularly." He finally turned away from Bruce back to face Mickey. "So, what kind of work do you do?"

"Shipping and logistics mostly. People pay me to take things from A to B."

"No questions asked?" Wally raised an eyebrow, clasping his hands in front of him.

"Of course not. People rely on my service for anonymity." Dunn shrugged. "It wouldn't be very good business if my customers had to tell me everything I transport."

Wally opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but clamps up again and shakes his head. "Never mind, just thinking," he said when he noticed Dunn's curious look.

"No, please," he encouraged, putting a gentle arm on Wally's. The redhead barely kept himself from pulling sharply away and zipping over to the other side of the room, but couldn't stop the infinitesimal vibrations that started running through his frame. "What were you going to say?"

"Just... thinking how easy it would be to use your company for smuggling. You'd be held liable if it ever got out, and that would be awful."

"You're worried?" Mickey's smirk grew just a little bit. "That's sweet, but don't be. I'm careful."

"I'd never be able to do what you do then. People would take advantage of me, I'd end up going to jail since I can't cover my tracks very well." He nods at Bruce. "It's hard enough trying to keep my money-skimming scheme away from his eyes."

"Money-skimming? You?" Dunn's eyes lit up with something, and internally Wally gave a little celebration. He was getting somewhere. Externally, though, he looked horrified.

"Oh god, please don't tell him! It's just, he's so rich and I can barely afford my single bedroom apartment. It's not fair." Wally's lower lip trembled slightly as his mask tried to fight back tears. Mickey slid an arm around the speedster's shoulders then in a supposedly soothing gesture.

"I won't, I promise, your secret is safe with me."

Wally feigned slumping in relief. "Thank you. I didn't mean to let that slip. See what I mean? I'd be horrible at your job."

"Maybe I'd have to teach you then, hmm?"

Wally's gaze turned curious, but his heartbeat picked up a little. "What do you mean?"

Dunn twitched his head towards Malchovic over the other side of the room, sitting in a plush armchair with a glass of whiskey or bourbon in one hand and surveying the guests with a cool disinterest. "See the master of smooth over there?"

Wally turned his head subtly to see the Russian out of the corner of his eye and twitched his lips upwards in affirmation. "He's certainly striking. What about him?"

"His name," Mickey said, lowering his voice, "is Gregorio Malchovic. Russian mob boss. He uses my company. I don't know what he ships around or why, but he brings in money so I don't ask. Frankly, I don't want to know."

Wally's eyes went wide and swifted back around to stare at Mickey. "The mob?" he hissed quietly. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." His gaze goes back to Wally's. "You have your secrets, Miss West, and I have mine."

"No kidding." Wally shivered visibly under Dunn's arm. "I don't think you should say anymore. Plausible deniability and all that. I'd rather be left out of the mob. Compared to that skimming money off of Wayne is a cakewalk."

"Fair's fair. We know each other's secret now." Mickey ran his hand down Wally's arm. "But I'll leave out any more, I certainly don't want a beautiful thing like you. You're wasted on Wayne, you know."

"I know," Wally replied quietly. He looked up to see Bruce making his way back from Matheson and Kilroy and stepped away from Mickey, plastering a smile to his face. Dunn noted Wally's movement and did the same when he too noticed Bruce. The billionaire looked between them, but greeted them both cheerfully enough.

"Mr Dunn, mind if I steal my date for another dance? Only this song is perfect for a samba, and that's my favorite kind of dance." It was also the dance Wally discovered he was best at back when his mother had sent him for lessons as a kid. It had only taken a couple of days for most of it to come back to him while everyone was training him up, and he was ashamedly grateful his dance tutor back then had made them all learn both the male and female steps. With something akin to glee, Wally would hasten to add. Sadistic teachers.

He allowed Bruce to sweep him away from Mickey Dunn and back out onto the floor where Bruce pretended to adjust Wally's pearl necklace, switching off the microphone as he did so. Wally sent him a grateful smile, and the two of them settled into a smooth but tame set of samba steps, Wally following easily with Bruce's movements.

"Learn anything?" Bruce asked softly, twisting Wally around so they were back to front. Wally slid an arm down Bruce's before he pulled away, swift feet sweeping him out and in again in a single graceful move.

"He all but admitted he's a smuggler, and he's got the mob's material." Wally grinned up at Bruce, drawing himself close teasingly. "I 'accidentally' told him I was skimming money from Wayne Industries. He saw a fellow criminal."

"Excellent." Bruce looked thoroughly pleased at that, the smallest of expressions but Wally saw it clear as day. "That's just what we needed."

Wally sighed, tipping his head back as Bruce dipped him. "You know, that's very anti-climactic for all the prep I had to do. I barely had to do anything, it's disappointing."

Bruce chuckled. "It is a bit, isn't it? Perhaps, then..." He pulled Wally into him far closer than before, "you should make the most of your situation."

Wally stared at him, green eyes bright and slightly dilated. "Bruce, what..."

"It's not every day you get to dress up as a lady, with all the training and trimmings. Take advantage of it."

Wally stepped back from Bruce slightly, still keeping his steps in time but the expression he gave the dark-haired man was utter confusion. "I don't understand. Are you telling me I need to go pick up guys?"

"I'm saying maybe you should do things you wouldn't normally do, say things you wouldn't normally say." He swept one of Wally's legs out from under him, bending the speedster back in a finishing flourish, to a startled meep. "Experience things you wouldn't normally experience."

Wally went red again, clutching at Bruce's arms tightly and trusting him to keep him from falling. The younger man was kept like that for several seconds longer before being hauled back upright, and he stepped away from Bruce still flushed, though whether from embarrassment or something else Bruce wasn't sure. It looked good on him either way.

"In that case," Wally said a little shakily, clearly trying to recompose himself, "go get me a white russian. Since I'm not supposed to get one myself."

"Of course, darling," Bruce replied serenely, and Wally flipped him the bird with a huff when Bruce had his back turned. A snort sounded from behind him, and he swiveled to see Oliver standing with his arms crossed over his chest and a thoroughly amused look.