Work Text:
~~Bruce~~
The phone is ringing. Alfred rises from their seat by the fire, setting their tea down on the side table. The Wayne's were out at the theatre so they had a quiet night planned but the phone didn’t seem to care. “Wayne residence, Pennyworth speaking.”
“Evening Pennyworth, this is commissioner Leob. I have some unfortunate news…” Alfred abandons their tea, thoughts of a quiet night all but forgotten as they rush to the car.
The next few hours pass by both extremely fast and excruciatingly slow.
Alfred arrives at the police station, their eyes drifting over the crowd of people in uniforms and landing on the young master almost immediately. He’s sitting on a plastic chair, his hair sticking to his forehead and dripping with rainwater, a brown trench coat wrapped around his shoulders, dwarfing his already small frame. As Alfred approaches they note the distant, glazed look in the boy's eyes.
Alfred’s heart clenches. Master Bruce is far too young to have witnessed such a life changing tragedy.
The commissioner intercepts their approach. “Alfred Pennyworth, good. We have some preliminary procedure—”
Alfred is having none of that. “That’s quite enough. You’re welcome to come by the manor tomorrow to get that out of the way,” they begin to push past but the man grabs their arm.
“We really should—”
Alfred’s face grows thunderous, but they keep their tone carefully even. “I apologise commissioner but my job as of two hours ago is first and foremost to take care of my charge. My 8 year old charge who has not hours ago witnessed a world shattering tragedy. Now I will be taking him home and attempting to make this transition as comfortable as possible given the circumstances. You may come to the manor tomorrow,” they raise an eyebrow daring the man to challenge them.
The commissioners face spasms, but he nods and moves out of the way, removing his hand.
Alfred shoves past and kneels down in front of the boy. Master Bruce doesn’t react. Alfred’s stomach falls and they take a deep steadying breath. “Come, Master Bruce. Let’s get you home now,” they stand and place a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him to the car. The boy goes easily but does not react any further.
He remains unresponsive throughout the drive, glassy eyes fixed out the window.
Alfred ushers Master Bruce into the house. “I imagine dinner will be cold by now. No matter, I don’t think anyone is much in the mood for food right this moment,” they talk to fill the silence ringing throughout the empty manor. They turn just in time to see a shiver wrack the boy’s frame. “You must be freezing. First things first then, a bath. We’ll clean you up and get you warm.” There’s a fleck of blood on Master Bruce’s cheek that Alfred hadn’t noticed before.
The child remains unresponsive as Alfred leads him to the bathroom, running the tub and guiding Master Bruce through the motions of undressing. When the boy slides into the tub, feeling the warm water against his skin, Alfred finally sees the smallest amount of tension fall from his shoulders.
The barest hint of tension slides from their own figure as they grab the soap and some washcloths and carefully begin working away at the night's grime. Alfred only wishes that they could wash the pain away as they do with the blood and dirt. The tension continues to fall away until Alfred notes the young boy’s shoulders begin to shake. They pretend to ignore the droplets of water hitting the surface of the bath as they finish rinsing the boy's hair.
Alfred helps the boy from the tub and wraps him in a towel, sitting him on the toilet. Master Bruce’s face scrunches and the tears begin to fall in earnest.
“Oh, child.” They breathe. Alfred kneels down and takes the bundled child in their arms. Bruce grasps at Alfred’s shirt and leans his head against Alfred’s torso, breath coming faster and faster.
Just this once, Alfred abandons all decorum and relaxes into the hug, running a hand up and down the boy’s back. “I’m here, my boy.”
It is not the last time Alfred abandons decorum for one of their charges.
~~Dick~~
“Master Dick, come in for dinner.” Alfred calls to the boy from the patio. Master Dick had spent most of the day outside, having spent the previous day stuck indoors due to the rain. To Alfred's shock most of the valuables remained intact but they weren't willing to push the boy’s restraint much further and Dick was all too excited to abandon the confines of the manor in favour of the spring weather.
The boy emerges from behind a row of hedges. “Coming Alfie,” he calls. “Is Bruce joining us for dinner?” He asks with an air of nonchalance, but Alfred can see the hope in his eyes despite his best attempt at hiding it.
“Not tonight, I’m afraid.” The boy’s shoulders fall as he passes Alfred, tracking muddy footprints inside as he goes. They cluck their tongue. “I think a bath is in order before dinner.”
The boy looks sheepish. “Sorry. There was this huge mud puddle and I just had to test it out. Zitka used to roll in the mud, you know, and one time I was with my dad after it rained and we came back covered in mud . Mum was so mad, and my dad gave her a kiss on the cheek and ended up getting mud on her too.” He replays the memory animatedly and Alfred smiles softly.
“Of course. Right then, to the bath.”
Master Dick nods and races up the stairs towards his room. When Alfred arrives, the tub is already filled with a generous layer of bubbles on top and the young master has climbed inside.
“Alfie, my arms aren’t working so I can’t wash my hair.” He demonstrates this statement by lifting his arms and letting them fall back into the water causing it to splash. Alfred watches the scene with an amused expression and the boy giggles.
“However shall we remedy this?” They ask, playing along with the boy's antics.
“Welllll, I guess you might have to do it…” He watches Alfred with an innocent look, waiting to see how they’ll react.
“Very well, Master Dick. Turn around then.”
Master Dick grins and turns quickly so that Alfred has better access to wash his hair. Alfred kneels down and begins rinsing his hair. The boy lets out a content hum. “You're real gentle, like my mama used to be.” The boy whispers, eyes closed.
Alfred clears their throat. Such tragedy should not haunt these children, and yet Master Dick and Master Bruce will forever feel its effects. “Thank you, my boy.”
~~Jason~~
Alfred finds Master Bruce sitting leaned against a wall in a corridor next to a maintenance closet. “Jay, please come out,” the man all but whines.
“No fucking way, you perv,” a muffled shout comes through the door. Internally, Alfred chuckles. Their newest charge certainly has spirit. Bruce sighs, clearly at a loss at what to do now.
Alfred decides to step in. “Master Bruce, why are you on the floor?”
Bruce scrubs a hand down his face. “It’s been four days since Jason has come to live with us. I only suggested he might like a bath but he ran off and locked himself in there,” he gestures to the door of the closet.
“I see. Up then, those files will not deliver themselves to Mister Fox. I will handle this.”
Bruce’s shoulders sag and relief flashes across his face. He nods and stands to leave. “Thank you, Alfred.” Alfred raises an eyebrow and Bruce takes it as a dismissal turning down the hallway towards his study.
Alfred watches him go then turns to the door and knocks once. Master Jason cracks the door. “Is he gone?” Alfred notes a minute tremor in the boy's hands.
“Yes child. Master Bruce has some work to catch up on.” The tension slides from Jason’s frame. “Did you at least tidy up while you were in there?”
The boy blushes and steps all the way out of the cupboard, closing the door behind him. “Sorry Alfred.”
“Very well. I was just on my way to the kitchen to work on lunch, would you like to join me?” Master Jason nods hesitantly and begins to follow Alfred to the kitchen. 20 minutes later Alfred has Master Jason set up at the island, mixing a bowl of flour and other dry ingredients.
“Oof.” Master Jason grunts and Alfred turns to find the boy has knocked the bowl over, covering himself in flour and sending a cloud up into his face. White flour settles in his dark hair.
“Oh, dear,” Alfred smiles. “We’ll need to clean you up.”
Jason stiffens. “I don’t need a bath.”
That causes Alfred to frown. The boy clearly does need a bath, but getting Jason to do that alone or otherwise looks like it will be a fight and one that would wipe out the established trust they have. They would rather do this the proper way but trust must come first.
“Alright, go change your clothes then. We’ll wash your hands and face with soap. Perhaps you would allow me to wash your hair in the sink instead?”
Jason eyes him suspiciously and the action hurts something in Alfred’s heart. “Clothes on?” He questions.
Alfred nods. “Of course.”
“Fine,” but there’s still suspicion laced throughout his body.
“Right then. I’ll finish this up while you go change, would you fetch a towel and the shampoo as well? I’m sure you noticed it while you were hiding this morning.” Alfred keeps their tone light.
Jason nods and leaves the room, allowing Alfred to finish lunch and tidy up. Jason returns looking much cleaner, with only the flour left in his hair for the most part. Alfred pulls a stool up to the sink. “Come now, lean your head here. Like that, yes.” Alfred begins rinsing the flour from the dark curls, fingers gently pulling at knots. Alfred feels the boy start to relax as he works.
Master Jason scrunches his nose when they apply the shampoo. “Is something wrong?” Alfred inquires.
Jason closes his eyes, relaxing again. “Smells like strawberries. Don’t like strawberries.”
“Would you prefer something else next time?”
Jason opens one eye and turns to look at Alfred. “Anything?”
“Of course.”
He closes his eye again and lets Alfred continue. “Coconut.”
“Alright. I’ll get coconut next time.”
Alfred rinses it out and helps Jason dry his hair with the towel. Jason grins at them and turns to head upstairs—no doubt towards the library—but stops at the doorway. “Alfie?”
“Yes, my boy?”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” Alfred offers the boy a smile as he turns to go.
~~Tim~~
Tim had not meant for tonight to get so out of control, but he doesn’t think it’s completely his fault. When the thug pulled out a gun, Bruce’s back was turned as he dealt with someone else so Tim was the only one there to notice. Tim didn’t have enough time to reach the guy and disarm him so instead he shoved Bruce out of the way and got shot for the trouble.
Bruce was furious and had spent what felt like hours lecturing Tim about safety and risk assessment. Then he looked at Tim with such a broken look and stormed out of the med-bay leaving Tim alone.
Logically, Tim understood that Bruce just didn’t want Tim to die, like Jason had. But logic doesn’t help the sour feeling in his stomach when Bruce leaves him alone like everyone else always did.
Alfred comes in a few minutes later, even as Tim’s eyes start to feel heavy. They’re carrying a large bowl and some towels. They sit down next to Tim’s head.
“Now then, let’s get you cleaned up, Master Timothy.”
“I’m okay.” He yawns as he speaks.
“None of that my boy. You may rest if you’d like,” they wet one of the clothes and run it carefully over Tim’s forehead and into his hairline.
Tim’s eyes drift shut as Alfred continues to work on his hair. “Alfie, this is nice. ‘M tired.”
He thinks he hears Alfred chuckle. “That’s quite alright, Master Tim. Rest child.” He drifts off and when he wakes up again, Bruce is asleep in a chair next to his bed. He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.
~~Alfred~~
Alfred Pennyworth often wakes up before the sun, in a house this size with so many young men and women around there is much to do even before the sun rises. So when they wake up with slivers of light peeking through the curtains, they furrow their brow. They’ve slept in. Alfred hasn’t slept in since before their days serving under Her Majesty.
The second thing they note upon waking up, is that the house is silent. The house is rarely silent these days, not with Master Bruce’s adoption habits or the way he seems to have passed a similar trait down to his two eldest.
Alfred climbs from the bed, admonishing themselves for sleeping in, intent on investigating. They distantly note the way their head pulses. They choose to ignore it in favour of stopping whatever house fire today’s house occupants are sure to cook up.
Upon further investigation, they find all of the usual ‘hang-outs’ are empty. They make for the kitchen instead. If they cannot find their charges, they will come to Alfred the second they smell food.
Food proves unnecessary. They find all of their charges—that are supposed to be here today at least—the second they enter the kitchen.
Master Jason is at the stove stirring something in one of the larger pots while Master Dick and Master Tim are working at the island, chopping vegetables.
Alfred intends to gather their attention by clearing their throat but instead lets out a sneeze. It has the same effect but Alfred is shocked to think they might be a little under the weather.
“Alfie.” All three boys shout in greeting.
Alfred winces as the shout causes the pulsing in their head to increase. The boys all look sheepish. “Sorry, Alfie.” They whisper together.
“Alfred, you should be in bed.” Master Bruce’s voice comes from behind him. “Jason told me you slept in this morning and didn’t even wake when he came in to check on you. As well, he said your temperature felt warm. Alfred, you’re sick.”
“Not so sick that I can’t go about my business as usual.” They fuss.
The boys all look at them with varying degrees of what Master Dick calls ‘puppy-dog-eyes.’ “Dad,” Master Bruce lowers his voice. “The boys and I will be alright for a day or two. You did worry us this morning. Let us take care of you, please. Jason and the boys are preparing a delicious soup and I’ll be good company. How about some tea while you rest?”
Alfred watches the boys who all seem to be getting along as they work on the soup. Master Jason is perfectly capable in the kitchen and it’s rare for them to be together like this with minimal fighting. Bruce is watching them with hopeful eyes.
“I… Alright, I suppose some tea wouldn’t hurt.”
Four faces fill with relief. As Bruce guides Alfred back to their room, Alfred can’t help but think that perhaps they did something right with these young men.