Author's Note: I had quite the happy head after my wine class last night, and this little scene popped into it. Happy reading!

Bruce stepped into the foyer, finally home from a tedious late-running meeting, and waited. A moment later an unhappy frown etched his face. Where the hell is Alfred? While the butler was always a bit distracted when Dick came home from college for holidays, this sort of negligence towards his elder charge was unheard of. For Dick himself to not come bolting out to greet him was just as unusual. Exhausted and irritated, the billionaire tossed his coat onto the entry bench, kicked off his shoes, and stalked into the house.

His quarry gave themselves away by bursting into raucous laughter before he'd taken more than a few steps. The kitchen, he determined, but what are they doing? The younger man's echoing amusement was a regular inhabitant of the halls of Wayne Manor, but the Englishman's chortles were rare, and they caught him off-guard. Rounding the corner, he quickly discerned what had inspired them. His jaw dropped. "...Are you drunk?!"

Both of the figures at the breakfast bar looked up, one grinning, one guilty. A dozen wine bottles were lined up before them, all open and all missing at least a quarter of their original volume. Bruce gaped from the doorway, astounded. "Well? Are you?" he crossed his arms and repeated his question.

"Oh, dear," Alfred sighed. "I'm afraid the fun's over, Master Dick."

"Whaaat? No way! Now that Bruce is here he can-" a hiccup interrupted him, "-break the tie."

"...Was it a tie?" The butler peered at a red-stained sheet of paper. "I thought we had three candidates left, but my notes are rather illegible."

"Guess you're just gonna have to try all of 'em, Bruce," Dick smirked. "That's okay, then you can be as happy as we are. Here." He offered his half-full glass unsteadily.

"I'm not trying any of them," Bruce answered, closing the distance between them and setting the crystalware back on the counter. "I can't believe this. Alfred, you said you were selecting the pairings for the New Year's Ball tonight so that they could be ordered tomorrow!"

"That's what we were – hic – doing!" Dick protested.

"And you're underage!" the billionaire snapped. "Do you know what CPS would do to me if they saw this?"

"Lessee...uh, nothing, because I'm a legal adult. You weren't even here; Alfred's the one who would get hit for providing the booze. Besides," he mumbled, "it's not like this is the biggest law I've ever broken."

Bruce couldn't argue with the first two points, but the third got under his skin. "It had better be the biggest law you've broken as a civilian," he warned. "You know the others are...well...different."

"So what, if I'd gotten drunk in costume you wouldn't have cared so much?"

"I..." Shit. "I didn't say that. Regardless," he overrode the retort he could already see rising in Dick's eyes, "I can't believe you let this happen, Alfred."

"It's entirely my fault, sir," the butler seemed to sober. "I assure you, it all started out quite academic. We covered a fair bit of information before we became...ah..."

"Sloshed? Wasted? Shit-faced?" Bruce supplied sarcastically.

"...I was going to say carried away, actually."

"Considering that your tongues are purple, I'd say you got a little more than 'carried away'."

"It's my fault," Dick insisted. "I saw him about to start tasting and begged to help."

"No, no, I should have remained steadfast in my initial refusal, young sir," Alfred waved him off. "It was my error to have been persuaded."

"But I pouted."

"...Yes, you did do that, it's true. Still, I've withstood that look before. Although you did make a very good argument on top of it...hmm...this is a quandary..."

"No, it isn't!" Bruce flailed, agitated. "You're both out of your minds! You shouldn't be drinking," he pointed at Dick, "and you shouldn't have let him, no matter how hard he pouted!"

"You do know that pretty much everyone drinks at college, right?" the teen interjected.

"Have you been drinking at college?" the billionaire asked, his tone dangerous.

"No," Dick answered. "I wanted my first drink to be a special occasion, and I wanted it to be somewhere safe, with people I trusted. And it was, Bruce. I had a lot of fun hanging out with Alfred and tasting all of these." He swung his arm to indicate the bottles and nearly knocked half of them over. "...Oops. Anyway...law or no law, what's the harm? It's a lot better than going out and getting smashed at some random party with a bunch of strangers. I even learned some stuff. Mostly that I'm not a big fan of pinot noir," he smirked. "But...things. Okay?"

How could he object to what had just been said? "...I see you have the family gift of keeping a clever tongue when you've been drinking," he managed slowly. "If you have to drink, then...well, I guess this is how I would want you to do it. You still shouldn't do it at all," he lectured, "but like you said, you're...you're an adult." He could forbid him to drink in the house, he knew, but visions of every wild college party he'd ever seen in the movies made him shudder. That was not the sort of environment he wanted his son in at all, let alone while impaired. "I'm still not very happy about this, but..."

"But you're not exactly pissed, either?" Dick guessed.

"Such language, young sir!"

"Hey, I've been drinking."

"That's not an excuse, Master Dick."

The look on the teen's face was priceless, and Bruce had to cover a chuckle. This is definitely how I want you to drink, chum, he laughed to himself. With someone who will keep your mouth out of the gutter while you do it. "Yeah," he replied as Dick shook his head. "I'm not exactly...what you said...either."

"So...does that mean you'll have a drink with us?" Smiling hopefully, the youngest of the trio picked his glass up once more and waved it back and forth. "Pleeeease? It'll be fuuuun..."

"No," the billionaire ruled. "I'm putting you to bed. You're going to have the hangover from hell in the morning."

"Then I should have as much fun as I can now, right? Besides, we still haven't figured out what the last pairing is going to be."

"...You're kidding me. Alfred?"

"It's the truth, sir, and I'm afraid my palate is completely knackered. It really is down to you, unless you'd like to try and decipher my notes."

He took one glance at the way the butler's handwriting had degenerated as the night had gone on and blanched. It was no use; the wines had to be ordered the next day, and he would be judged on the match-ups between food and wine. Besides that, it had sounded like they were having fun before he walked in. He couldn't help but want to be a part of their conviviality, especially since Dick was giving him the pleading stare that had been so very effective ever since the day they'd met. As if that wasn't enough, he'd had a long day and wanted nothing more than to relax and unwind. I was thinking about sticking to the cave tonight anyway, he allowed. "Fine," he said more brusquely than he felt. "I'll pick the last pairing."

"Yes!" Dick cheered. "Here, this is one of them," he offered his glass for the third time.

Bruce looked at it for a long moment, then sighed and gently pushed it back towards its owner. "I'll get my own," he explained. "...You might as well finish what you've got there, since you won't be able to have any at the party."

The teen beamed. "That's what I told Alfred to get him to let me help tonight."

"I'm not surprised. But not a word about this to anyone, understand?"

"Don't worry, I'll be a perfect teetotalling angel next weekend. No one will know I've ever even so much as sniffed a glass of wine."

"They'd better not." Alfred appeared at his elbow with a clean glass in hand. "...Trying to soften me up?"

"On the contrary, sir, I'm simply doing my job. Upon reflection, there's little for me to be ashamed of other than perhaps the mild legal infraction I committed by giving the young master alcohol. In fact," his eyes twinkled with a mixture of buzz and mischeif, "I'm rather proud of having inadvertently orchestrated the opportunity for you to share Master Dick's first alcoholic intoxication with him."

For the second time in ten minutes, Bruce's mouth opened in shock. "You..." You know what? Screw it. My boy had his first drink tonight, he's up for a little more, and I get to join him. He would have preferred to do this with Scotch, but he supposed he ought to just be grateful he was getting to do it at all. "You, ah," he ducked his head for a second, "should tell me which course I'm matching this with. Dick, give me a taste of whatever's first."

"...What, me?"

"You've got to learn how to do it sometime. Alfred won't always be in the room to pour for you. Besides," he winked, "women think it's romantic when you refill their wine."

"I'm sold," the teen agreed, reaching for the nearest bottle. "…Ready?"

As ready as I'll ever be for you to grow up a little more, Dicky. So…not at all. "Fill 'er up, chum," he said instead, smiling. "Let's get this party back on track."