Bruce had never thought of himself as a tactile person, and truthfully, he didn't remember Alfred as having been demonstrative either. They had clung to each other after Crime Alley, just for simple survival. But beyond that...
And Bruce had not hugged Alfred goodbye before leaving Gotham. Had been unable to tell him, had scarcely understood it except as a scream that existed inside his skin.
This felt uncannily the same, and yet, they had both changed.
Touch had become common between them- even if it was just Alfred holding Bruce on his feet as he returned to the cave, dripping rainwater and poison and blood on the floor. And Dickie too, who had taught Bruce to embrace others.
This time, Bruce pressed into Alfred. This time, he said a little of how he felt. This time, he chuckled and nodded into Alfred's shoulder.
"You're right. Of course." Bruce sighed. "But no, I don't think screaming will do any good."
He didn't move from his place, leaning into his father's comforting presence. Drawing strength from it like a thirsting plant after rainfall. "I would like a bath, and just as well we were smart enough not to remove the grab rails," they were far too useful after injuries. "Tea. Oranges. All of that would be nice."
"My mother had a rough time of it," Bruce said slowly, "didn't she?" It hadn't been something discussed with Bruce at his age, but it... fit in hindsight. "Hn."
A quiet huff from Bruce, "I'm certain beyond some surprise this will-" he almost fidgeted. "He and Lois were keen to have a family, only, well." Only, Bruce thought pointedly, they had all reasoned Clark was sterile.
"And if he does have an issue, then that's his problem, not mine."