Those of you reading my fic 'Hundred Day Curse' on AO3 may enjoy this snippet. It's a scene with Alfred and Bruce, set in the future of the fic that may or may not make it into future chapters. IDK yet. I like it, but it might not fit with how I eventually write the rest of the fic. Even so, it's a spoiler for them meeting again, so click read more at your own risk! (It's 1700~ words btw)
Bruce stared at Alfred as discretely as he could. He wasn’t entirely sure Alfred hadn’t noticed - he was Alfred, after all - but the man continued on as if he hadn’t so Bruce kept watching. Alfred was brewing tea in the suit he’d always worn; dark suit, white shirt, dark tie, and white gloves. His butler suit.
Bruce hadn’t signed any employment documents recently so he was confident that he hadn’t rehired Alfred as the Wayne butler. Even if his parents hired Alfred for a lifetime, Bruce was rather certain that became null after Alfred had formally retired. Lifetime employments don’t tend to resume after retirement. Alfred couldn’t just rehire himself, could he? Why would he do that? Maybe Alfred was under the impression that the only capacity he could be in Wayne Manor was if he were a butler.
That was silly. The kids invited Alfred over (because they couldn’t trust Bruce to take care of himself and Alfred was being shackled with him again after he finally escaped—) and Wayne manor was as much the kids’ as it was his. (Even though they didn’t really want it.) Surely Alfred knew that the kids saw him as something like a grandfather—he didn’t need to be a butler to stay here.
'Love me. Love me. Love me.'
Alfred placed a cup of tea in front of Bruce. It was doctored exactly how Bruce like it - the current Bruce, not the old man that actually enjoyed bitter things, because somehow they were still sweeter than his decrepit soul. With milk and an overabundance of sugar. An insult to proper tea but the only way Bruce was able to stomach it back when he was a child.
“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce murmured. Because he wasn’t in a speaking mood but manners were a must.
“Your thanks is appreciated but unnecessary, Master Bruce,” Alfred responded.
Master Bruce. He drank some more tea. For surely the milky beverage would drown this ugly emotion in his chest. It was better than Mister Wayne, he told himself.
'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'
Alfred had not made himself his own cup of tea. He busied himself with making lunch instead. Cute little tea sandwiches, including the cucumber sandwiches that he knew Dick hated but Bruce secretly liked. Usually Alfred would have the sandwiches prepared before he served tea but Bruce wasn’t going to complain. He liked watching Alfred cook. Alfred’s movements were always so fluid, so sure, never pausing as he moved from one step to another.
'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'
Bruce would enjoy this more if he hadn’t been basically ordered to remain by Alfred’s side while his kids busied themselves with work. Ordered, like a misbehaving child in desperate need of supervision. Bruce hadn’t been misbehaving. He’d been good. He broke zero rules and took care to ensure he didn’t break the not-really rules either. Bruce didn’t need Alfred to be his nanny again.
'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'
“Sandwich, Master Bruce?” Alfred offered.
Bruce nodded and Alfred plated five different tea sandwiches on his plate. He didn’t thank him again because apparently his thanks was unwanted. The sandwich was good and exactly how he remembered them tasting.
“Alfred?” he inquired, after he finished his lunch. “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here in the kitchen or why am I here in the manor?”
“The children informed me of what happened and I thought it best if I were here to help,” Alfred answered.
'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'
“You’re retired,” Bruce stated.
“You’re no longer a butler.”
“One does tend to disidentify with their job title once they’re retired, yes.”
“I believe I’ve already answered that, Master Bruce.”
'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'
“You’re being obtuse,” Bruce growled before freezing. He had no right to growl at Alfred like that. No right to lose his cool. No right to be so rude.
Alfred sighed and Bruce braced himself to be dragged into Time Out. He knew Alfred didn’t do Time Out but prepared himself anyway.
“I was informed that my ward had reverted to that of a child’s physique. It is only natural that I have returned.”
Ward? “I have not been your ward for decades.”
“You’ve been in my charge since you were born, Master Bruce.”
“Uncle Philip is my legal guardian.”
Alfred’s fluid movements stuttered for a moment before resuming. “I seem to recall that he entrusted you back into my care after a scant two years.”
“... Indeed.” Alfred opened a drawer and retrieved the silverware. He began to polish them.
“Alfred, why are you here?”
“What answer are you seeking, Master Bruce?”
He fell silent and watched Alfred polish the silver. Alfred would never give him the answer he desired.
“I’ve told you the truth.”
“Then why are you dressed like a butler?”
“I’m comfortable dressed like this.”
“So you’ve not rehired yourself?”
Alfred’s mouth twitched. “No, I have not. I’m still retired, Master Bruce.”
Alfred sighed. “I’m starting to suspect that you do not want me here.”
“I just want to know why. You left.”
“So did you. For four years, with only a brief visit in between.”
Bruce clenched his fists. “No, you went home.”
“I retired, Master Bruce. I did not go home.”
'How do I earn your love?'
Alfred put the silverware down and made eye contact with Bruce. “My retirement was dreadful. I had not desired it, certainly not in the way I spent it. I had rather been here instead of retiring.”
“Because, Master Bruce, I’ve noticed over the years that whenever I went on vacation, you were more careful on patrol. You got hurt less. You ate consistently. You slept more. I figured I was enabling you by virtue of being here and assisting you in everything you desired. I lacked the willpower to simply refuse you and so I remove the temptation and I retired. I wanted to return many times but feared that I would go back to enabling you. However, considering you’ve managed to embroil yourself in greater troubles than previously thought possible, I figured my retirement made no difference and saw no need to torment myself any further.”
“... You retired for me?”
Alfred huffed. “I retired out of misplaced judgement. I was simply being a fool, deluding myself. Trust me, I shan't be doing that again any time soon.”
“Am I correct in assuming you wish to come out of retirement?”
“Tell me what you do understand and I shall endeavour to explain what you don’t.”
“You retired for my own good but you’re back because it wasn’t working and you didn’t like retirement but you’re still retired.”
“I didn’t like retirement because it kept me away from Gotham. I’m perfectly content with being retired in Gotham.”
“But you’re performing butler duties.”
“You made me tea and sandwiches.”
Alfred sighed again and placed the silverware and cloth down. “Forgive me.”
“You’re right. I’m being obtuse. Perhaps I’ve been obtuse all along. I thought you understood our silence, Master Bruce. I thought I understood your silence. Now I realise I’ve been wrong all along. I’m sorry.”
“... I don’t understand.”
“In truth, I haven’t been here in the manor in a butler’s capacity ever since your parents passed that fateful night. Though I performed my duties, that was more from habit and personal enjoyment than anything. I suppose I was also afraid of change when so much already had. I had convinced myself that you needed the familiarity, when the reality was that I that relied on it.”
When Bruce didn’t respond, Alfred continued.
“It was foolish of me and that has cost you and I too much. You especially. Decades of silence, unspoken thoughts left to fester uncontrollably, it has done us no good. Well, my retirement has given me much to think about and this conversation has given the final push I needed. You asked me why I have prepared you tea and sandwiches; I did so because I wanted to, because it is how I show my care, because you are my child and you hadn’t eaten yet.”
To hear it spoken so plainly made it seem so simple. It hurt that his insecurities could have been so easily settled if only he had the courage to ask. If only Alfred had the wherewithal to breach the topic. If only.
“Ask me again why I’m here.”
“Why are you here?” Bruce asked, chin wobbling with suppressed emotion.
“I am here because I am your guardian, your friend, whatever it is that I mean to you. I am here because I want to be.”
“... Because you care for me…”
“Because I love you,” Alfred corrected.
“You love me,” Bruce repeated, voice thin with tears.
“I do. I always have.” Alfred dabbed away at Bruce’s face with a handkerchief.
“I have more memories of you than I do of my father, even when he was alive.”
“The late Dr Wayne was a busy man,” Alfred admitted. It was the closest Alfred would ever get to criticising his former employer.
“Mama said my first words were an attempt to say your name.”
“A fact I treasure to this day.”
“You’re the one to turn towards when I need help.”
“I’m grateful that you let me.”
“I want you to call me Bruce. Not Master Bruce.”
The call was unfamiliar in Alfred’s clipped tones but oh so beautiful. It was what he’d wanted for over thirty years. This simple address. Bruce devolved into a mess of tears and clutched onto Alfred’s lapels. Alfred responded by pulling Bruce to his chest and embracing him tightly.
“I think of you as a father,” Bruce confessed through his sobbing.
“I think of you as a son.”
It was all so simple, really.
