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Alfred Pennyworth knows Bruce Wayne since his birth. He worked for the family for years before the heir's arrival into the world... and he soon became the boy's only and best friend on top of being his caretaker.
He played the role of his devoted parent while Martha whined about her baby being so 'strange' and Thomas was constantly busy elsewhere. He bonded with the toddler in a way neither his mother nor father managed, they never conveyed enough patience to handle an autistic child who felt attacked by loud noises, voices, gestures and vivid lights around him.
Little Bruce had violent crises and breakdowns at least twice a week, overwhelmed by too many sensory informations that assaulted his senses. He cried a lot more than a normal baby, he recoiled when someone tried to scoop him up or touch him... Feeding him, changing him, putting him to bed, holding him and any other standard interaction was incredibly difficult over the first months of Bruce Wayne's existence.
It didn't improve much over his toddler years: he walked sooner than most but didn't talk before nearly two years old, he always resembled a scared deer caught in the car lights whenever someone showed up in his field of vision, he refused to eat to the point Alfred had to force-feed him on a regular basis, he never fell asleep over the evenings and when he did, he woke up far too early, screaming at the top of his lungs because he felt insecure when alone in the dark... yet he panicked all the more when someone entered his bedroom to try to calm him.
He was not an easy child. No friends at kindergarten or elementary school, no willingness to participate to galas and mundane events to which his parents were invited, no desire to find his place in their world and avoiding as much as he could interactions with fellow human beings.
Needless to say, things didn't improve after his parents' murder, between the homeschooling, the depression, the bad habits, the travels around the world to acquire a ninja-level training... until his great comeback with that crazy urge to dress in black, smear eyeliner around his eyes and go out in bat-cosplayer garments to display his martial art skills.
Alfred brushed a thumb over a picture in the book he held, featuring six-year-old Bruce and him.
He doesn't feel nostalgic, he is just... wondering.
"I am sorry," the butler whispered to the round face of this young version of his master.
"Speaking alone, old man?"
The former British spy looked over his shoulder, to Edward Nashton who appeared on the doorframe of this office.
"... Sorry," the guest hesitated when Alfred turned around, clutching the picture book close to his heart. "I wanted to... ask if you'd like to give me a hand for the cake."
"That would be with pleasure, master Edward."
Alfred and Eddie get along surprisingly well, if considering the Riddler sent him to the hospital... in what seemed to be a lifetime ago.
Since Ed moved to the Wayne residence quasi-permanently with baby Stephanie, the two men established a sort of routine. They were both talented at cooking, they both babyproofed the entire Tower (including Bruce's batarangs as the Knight let his stuff all over the place, what caused... some confusion when he arrested thugs and threw at them his babyproofed-batarangs), they split the house tasks... and so on and so forth.
Alfred was honored Eddie required his assistance in the kitchen to bake Steph's birthday cake. He assumed the father wanted to take care of it on his own, nonetheless Ed felt like this was something he should share with Alfred.
"You are her grandfather," he translated the feeling while they walked to the kitchen where Bruce, who as for him had no intention to help in anything looking like cooking, made Stephie laugh by narrating a vehement battle scene whilst using stuffed toys as bad guys and Steph's plush robin as the hero who saved the day. "We are the chiefs of this household... it's normal her first birthday cake is the result of our combined work."
Alfred smiled, grateful.
"Thank you," he whispered, stopping before they entered the oversized kitchen.
Both watched Bruce who turned his back on them and showed a laughing Stephie how Robin-the-hero arrested that stuffed Darth Vader they put in the middle of the army of cute plush animals they bought for their kid.
Edward addressed him a puzzled glance.
"I should be the one thanking you guys," he opposed truthfully. "You gave me the... life I never even dreamed I'd have, I..."
"For him," Alfred specified, pointing to the grown man crouched on a blanket in the middle of pillows and stuffed toys to distract a very dynamic toddler. "I've known Bruce since... forever for him, and not once in his twenty-eight years of life, have I seen him so happy. You made him that way. You showed him he deserves happiness while he never believed it for himself. You offered him a family, a loving family, unlike anything he ever knew before. You opened his eyes. You opened his heart. It's something I... never managed."
"You raised him well, Alfred," Eddie promised, his voice warm and comforting upon perceiving the lingering insecurity. "You did a wonderful job with him. I hope I can... do half as great with my own child."
"Oh, you will. You are already handling that role better than I did."
Next thing both Ed and Alfred joined when Bruce asked if someone wanted to perform the villains' voices in his game... and soon enough, the three adults engaged in a battle with plush toys, commented by Steph's giggling and babbling.
Looks like they'll bake her birthday cake later.
They have the whole day ahead of them to cook something perfect, in prevision of Stephanie Wayne turning one year old tomorrow, an event she will celebrate surrounded by her fathers and her grandfather.