Chapter Text
This is not what Alfred Pennyworth expected this morning to be.
Drinking a cup of Earl grey (brewed exactly 5 minutes and sweetened with a half of spoon of sugar), before he would prepare breakfast while listening to the morning news and watching the spectacle of the sun rising in warm colors through the window, normally would be his first actions in the morning hours.
Then when Master Bruce would drag his feet inside the kitchen and fall into a chair, he would scold the, hardly ever sleeping, man. He would have reprimanded him for ignoring his physical health in favor of being a Superhero and deciding to live on coffee and nothing more than sheer will-power to which the billionaire would react by grunting and chugging down a cup of concentrated caffeine while muttering curses, for which Alfred would again scold him for.
It became a daily routine for both of them. That’s how the day starts and they’re both content with it.
Later on the boys, waked by the smell of fresh food, would join them at the kitchen table.
(Actually the Wayne Manor has a dinning room, but somehow, no matter how many times Alfred told them otherwise, the Waynes always end up sitting next to the cooking butler anyway.)
Master Richard, wanting to be called Dick, and Master Jason would be laughing about some new video, they discovered in the internet, when they come walking in through the door frame. Master Tim would fight to keep his eyeslids from closing themselves, barely awake until he took a sip of Coffee, and Master Damian would start the day with a scowl, or sometimes if the day’s a lucky one, a frown.
The table ware and cups, he polished and neatly put down on the table, would get alarmingly dirty or even partly scratched if not completely shattered during their shared eating procedure. Tim in his sleepy state would push over his Coffee and ruin the white lace cloth and Dick would spew out his orange juice in laughter about one his Masters jokes, troubling the future cleansing of cloth even more. Damian to the middle of their collective breakfast would throw a silver knife at Jason, which he would dodge and in return would throw a silver fork back almost piercing Tim’s ear.
A fight would ensue, the acacia table would be thrown over and Dick, Bruce and he would try to divide the three screaming boys. Somewhere along the way, Alfred would lose his allies, when Bruce and Richard would eagerly throw themselves into the physical disagreement too.
When he would have finally stopped the chaos, Alfred would firstly hold a lecturing speech while ALL of his children would hang their head in shame and all of them would go on eating, whatever food didn’t touch the ground when the table was turned over, like nothing happened. And Alfred meanwhile would secretly smile fondly at his partially sulking, partially annoyed and partially exhausted family.
Because this is familiar.
This is normal and while it’s messy, it’s still perfect.
But what is not normal for a basic morning in the Wayne Manor, is a young black-haired woman sleeping at their kitchen table, an un-finished bowl of cereals to her head, where her left cheek is pressed against a booklet. Her right hand is holding a pencil, which is currently dipped inside the milk of the cereals instead of the silver spoon, which is hanging from out of her mouth.
Wouldn’t he be greatly concerned and surprised right now, he might have tried to laugh at the odd picture.
But Alfred is concerned and his face reflects surprise, so no humor for now.
Curiously leaning his head, the man ponders.
This couldn’t possibly be another one of Bruce’s kids. Master Bruce has a big heart, he can easily adopt any kid unfortunate enough to suffer from a bad past, but he would have at least mentionned about a new child if there would have existed one, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t just adopt someone without telling a single soul in this household, right?
Alfred folds his hands behind his back, slowly shaking his head.
Oh no, rewind that thought, Master Bruce absolutely would.
Also the girl seems to fit into his typical scheme. Add in a tragically traumatic childhood with psychological issues (present tense) and Bruce will hear some WORDS.
He briefly thinks about waking her, but quickly decides against it. The poor girl should sleep some more if she was exhausted enough to knock out right at the table.
But he should at least cover her up to keep her warm before going to have a revealing conversation with the house’s holder. The kitchen isn’t really a place to nap in without catching a cold, the windows are damaged so it’s always rather chilly in here. Usually Alfred evens that out by turning on the oven and stove, but in these circumstances he’s not even dreaming about it. It could wake Bruce’s new kid.
Oh, Master Damian won’t be happy about this development, Alfred thinks when he spins his back to the girl and walks out.
His footsteps resonate in the hall when he walks into the living room, grabs a blue blanket, laying on top of one of the couches, and returns to stand in the door frame of the kitchen door, his eyes on the girl again.
She’s still sleeping peacefully, her quiet breaths still as even as before, her face relaxed in the ease of her pleasant dreams.
Stepping closer, he stops when he is now able to catch a glimpse at something that previously slipped past his attentive gaze. Next to the girl’s head is laying something red and tiny. Something curled up to a ball.
The something seems incredibly important. Dare he even call it mighty. Or magically divine.
Something snaps into place inside his brain at this exact moment. (Or was it his jaw that cracked when it dropped?)
But he pushes the thought by side, closes his mouth and carefully envelops the girl’s figure in thick blanket. He was about to cautiously remove the spoon from in between of her lips too, when suddenly his new child to raise straightens with a loud yelp, the blanket flying from off her shoulders to hit the ground with dull bump.
,,I didn’t sleep! I was awake the whole time, Madame Bustier, I swear!”
Alfred flinches at her scream, and god beware the queen, jumps when suddenly the red orb flies up to the girl’s face.
,,Marinette, calm down,” the thing says, with an unnaturally high voice. ,,We are not at school right now, we are,” The orb turns and Alfred sees big blue eyes which doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet, standing there at the door, shell-shocked. ,,Okay, I have honestly no idea where we are, but just calm down.”
The girl, apparently Marinette, grabs the thing and presses it to her cheek. ,,Tikki! Godammit, you’re okay!” she cries out loudly, her voice breaking under such heavy emotions, Alfred feels like interrupting their moment of reunion.
,,I am,” the flying thing (Tikki?) says as a matter of factly. ,,Why shouldn’t I be?”
Marinette kisses the Tikki’s head? over and over again (obviously he is un-experienced with that kind of anatomy) and then stops to stare at the thing, which is sitting on her palms. ,,You just fucking crumbled! Don’t scare me like that again!”
,,Okay, firstly, language, Mari, and secondly, what the heck are you talking about?”
,,You remember the Akuma? The one, which sneezed and basically half of Paris exploded?,” Guessing by the Tikki’s expression, it doesn’t. ,,I think Chat called him, Mr Sneezy or Boogeyman, but what I’m trying to say is, I summoned a few Heroes, one of these Pegase, and apparently Kim dared Max to not sleep for three days. Naturally Max calculated how many energy drinks, he should drink per day to stay alive, but didn’t think of the energizing, but quickly tiring effect on himself. So basically I stupidly called on him, he accidentally teleported me to the fuck where on earth instead of to the Akuma and now we’re here. Is this enough information for you to remember, or should I continue?”
Alfred has SO many questions right now, but luckily he knows when to swallow them.
The Tikki buzzes. ,,I thiink I’m informed enough. But how did we end up inside a house then?”
Marinette grins sheepishly, her bangs falling forwards when she rubs her neck. ,,I’m kiiiindaa the one who caused that..,”
,,You broke inside a house?!” The Tikki shrieks.
The girl grabs the flying thing to shush it. ,,Yikes, Tikki. Yes, I did. You were passed out and I needed some sugar to nurse you alive.” she vaguely gestures towards the bowl of cereals. ,,Besides it’s not like anybody saw you. We’re safe.”
The un-mistakable sounds of rampage upside tells Alfred his children woke. However Marinette wasn’t expecting the sudden noise and immediately turns her head to stare at him, her blue eyes incredibly wide in shock.
Alfred, ever the one staying composed, straightens and nods his head in acknowledgment even though he’s sure Bruce has nothing to do with the young adult in their kitchen.
The fact that she broke inside their house, could lift her onto Bruce’s adoption pedestal. The past showed, he has a certain weakness for trouble makers and so apparently does the butler too.
He pledges he will take good care of her.
Alfred puts on his most reassuring expression. ,,Please, don’t mind the loud noises. While the others may seem a little aggressive at first, they are actually quite amicable.” he tries to calm the obvious fear radiating of off her. ,,You and your flying friend won’t be in any trouble for breaking inside our kitchen. I promise.”
But Marinette, despite his attempts in easing, takes a deep breath and screams.