AN: Shout out to all reviewers, thank you guys! I really enjoyed reading the reviews. Enjoy the new chapter!
Chapter Seven: An Untried Relationship
By the time Billy returned to his own bedroom, his phone told him it was nearly three am. He crawled onto his bed and ducked under the cover. Sleep was not forthcoming, as the boy was haunted by thoughts of the disappearing Mr. Wayne and Alfred, thoughts of his new brothers, Dick as well as the non-present ones, and especially by thoughts of Gotham's shadowy guardian Batman and one dead Robin. It was here in Gotham city that a little boy, perhaps one just like Billy himself, died in the line of duty. No doubt this little boy, though without magical powers, was well trained and a good fighter, and no doubt Batman tried his best to protect the boy, and still he died. Such was the possible future of any hero, even Earth's Mightiest Mortal could die—he was mortal after all.
After hours of tossing and turning with only bursts of actually sleeping in between, Billy decided to get up, even though it was not even six. He quickly brushed his teeth and dressed, before sneaking out of his room. Thankfully, Titus was not here to tease him this time. Billy went to Alfred's room first, pushing the door open a crack ever so silently. This time he caught sight of the old butler sleeping peacefully. Billy let loose the breath he didn't know he was holding and sneaked away quietly. At least Alfred was back and sleeping, that means Mr. Wayne was just fine as well. Though, normally when Billy was up at around seven, Alfred would already be reading newspaper with his tea in the sitting room, a full breakfast table already set out in the kitchen and the day's schedule all prepared in his head. No way would Alfred be sleeping so deeply at this hour on a normal day. The two of them must have had a long night indeed! Who knew it was so much work being a rich businessman?
Billy padded into the kitchen. He poured himself half a glass of orange juice, downed the whole thing in one gulp, and then poked his head inside the fridge again. There were some cold sandwiches left over from yesterday, and an abundant selection of eggs, dairy, cured meat, and fresh fruit and vegetable, but certainly there was nothing one would really like to eat for breakfast already prepared. Billy eyed everything, and his blue eyes suddenly lit up with a brilliant idea. Why, he should definitely cook breakfast for Alfred and Mr. Wayne! After a tiring night, wouldn't it be nice for them to wake up to hot and delicious breakfast?
Only a couple minutes later Billy was happily whisking eggs, light cream and butter together, humming as he worked. Too bad there was no buttermilk, did that mean Alfred and Mr. Wayne didn't eat pancakes often? Ah well. And then shake some baking powder and baking soda into the flour, with a dash of salt, pour in the liquids to make the batter, and onto the hot frying pan. Finally the best ingredient to add some magic—this will be great!
"What do you think you are doing, young man?"
Alfred's voice made Billy jump and he nearly fell off the stack of books he was standing on in order to reach the stove properly. Seeing his pancakes were all done, Billy turned off the stove and walked up to Alfred with a red face. "Um, I, I was trying to make breakfast."
"You plan to eat all that?" Alfred said with a raised eyebrow, eyeing the mountain of steaming pancakes.
"Oh not all of that, I thought I should make breakfast for you and Mr. Wayne, sir," Billy said, "I looked in your room and you were sleeping, so I thought you must be really tired, that's why you weren't up early like every other day, and I thought you and Mr. Wayne would both enjoy hot breakfast when you get up."
"And you are certainly up much earlier than usual, Master William," Alfred said with a gentle smile, "And thank you, my dear boy, that is very kind of you. You are certainly miles ahead your father and your brothers already, for the kitchen is still standing, and the pancakes do smell good."
"Will you try some?" Billy beamed at the old butler, already grabbing a plate and piling two pancakes on top.
"Oh but of course, Master William, and do go easy on the maple syrup…" Alfred winced as Billy doused the pancakes with the sugary concoction from hell, and his eyebrows rose even higher upon receiving the plate, "Oh dear, is that… bacon in these pancakes?"
Billy blushed a little, and he mumbled, "Okay, I know it is really weird, and normal people don't make pancakes like this. It's just… There was this once when Scott and I got some eggs and bacon, but we didn't really have anything else to make normal eggs and bacon dish, but we had a bit of flour and buttermilk, so we took some salt and sugar packets form a fast food place and found some baking soda, and made these bacon pancakes. I thought they were really, really tasty! In fact, I always dreamed of having bacon pancakes again, but never did manage to get bacon since that one time. Yeah, this is really weird, and I guess it was tasty only because I was really hungry that time…"
"Now, now, Master William," Alfred interrupted the child's rambling with a gentle hand on his shoulder, "I think bacon in pancakes is quite an interesting new idea, and I am sure it is indeed very tasty. Why don't you grab a plate too, and let's go sit and enjoy our breakfast?"
These bacon pancakes were indeed delicious. Billy didn't get all the ratios exactly right, so the pancakes weren't as fluffy as they could be, but the taste was still wonderful. Billy wolfed down three syrup-drenched pancakes with gusto, and even Alfred ate two pancakes and found them quite amazing, though he was also secretly planning to wean the boy off such bad foods. After they finished eating, Billy asked, "Alfred, do you think Mr. Wayne would like pancakes in bed?"
Alfred gave the boy a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I see it on TV all the time," Billy said with a grin, "That if you want to show you really care about someone, you should make them breakfast in bed! I mean, I would totally like to eat breakfast in bed; that would be so great! Do you think Mr. Wayne would enjoy eating in bed? And would he like those pancakes?"
Alfred smiled. "He would be absolutely thrilled."
A few minutes later they headed towards the master bedroom, Billy holding a large tray that contained a high stack of syrup-doused bacon pancakes, a large cup of steaming coffee, and utensils. Alfred said Mr. Wayne probably would like coffee in the morning, so Billy insisted on learning how to prepare a cup of coffee, with the coffee maker at least.
As soon as Alfred pushed open the door to the master bedroom Bruce Wayne sat up in bed, alert at the least sound like some hunter of the night. "Alfred? What is this?" The billionaire gave his butler a hard look, quickly pulling down the sleeves of his pajama as if trying to hide something. Still holding the breakfast tray, Billy stared back at the tired looking billionaire with confusion. He could swear he saw bandages on the man's forearm.
"Master Bruce," Alfred said with a small cough, "Master William made fresh pancakes for all of us, and thought you would perhaps enjoy breakfast in bed." With that the old butler took the tray from Billy and carefully set it up in front of Wayne on a bed-top table.
The billionaire stared at the tray in front of him with a quizzical look as if he had never seen pancakes before. Though to be fair, this kind of cheap, unhealthy street fare type of food was indeed a rarity for Bruce Wayne. He poked the pancake with his fork, before asking with a raised eyebrow, "Is that… bacon bits in the pancake?"
"Indeed, Master Bruce," Alfred answered with a perfect straight face, "This is Master William's special recipe; he made it all by himself."
"You made this?" Bruce Wayne gave his son a surprised look, "You can cook without burning the kitchen down?"
Billy laughed and made a face at the man who was his father. "I can't cook as good as Alfred, but no one should burn the kitchen down without meaning to! I also know how to make omelets and sandwiches, and I think they don't taste so bad."
Bruce put a forkful of pancakes in his mouth and chewed. Seeing Billy's expectant look he gave the boy one of his very rare small smiles and said, "It's good. You are already miles ahead of me, that's for sure, and I really need to try your omelets and sandwiches one day. What made you get up early to cook breakfast though?"
"I thought since you and Alfred had such a tiring night I should definitely make food for you guys for a change!" The boy exclaimed enthusiastically.
The smile on Bruce Wayne's face disappeared instantaneously. He regarded the small boy with narrowed eyes, and his voice sounded positively dangerous as he asked in a low hiss, "And what do you mean by that?"
Billy backed up a step almost instinctively.
"Master Bruce!" Alfred gave his employer an unhappy look that almost seemed a warning, but the old butler was promptly ignored.
"Talk, boy," The billionaire barked at his son, "What do you mean we had a tiring night? What did you see?"
"I, last night I woke up late, and I was hungry, so I was just going to the kitchen to get some food," Billy explained nervously, "Titus was following me around the house. And then when we walked past your bedroom Titus barked really loud. I thought it was really weird that you didn't wake up even with Titus barking right outside your door, so I came in to take a look and saw you weren't there. That's how I know you were off working last night..."
Billy frowned and stood straighter, his voice finally finding a proper rhythm again, respectful but very much holding his ground, "I didn't mean to come into your room without your permission, but I was worried, Mr. Wayne. I thought you might be sick or drunk or something. I am sorry, and I promise I won't do it again, sir. I won't wander around at night anymore, and I won't come into your room without…"
Bruce put a hand on Billy's shoulder and stopped the boy. "My apologies, Billy," Bruce's voice was almost uncharacteristically gentle, and even regretful, "I did not mean to accuse you of anything. I was just… I guess I am too tired to think properly, and I am sorry. You are right, I did have a long night. This is your home, you should feel at home, and if you need me, you can definitely come find me in my room, in the study, wherever. Anyway, thank you for those great pancakes. They are really tasty."
Billy gave his father a slow but bright grin. "I am glad you like them!" The boy chirped.
"But let's try to eat more healthily in the future, how is that?" Bruce added, "That means no pancakes except for very special occasions, and always be sparing with bacon and maple syrup."
"Aww," Billy made a face and laughed.
Bruce Wayne took a long drought of coffee, when he put the cup down he was looking at his child with a serious expression again. "And I think I should be honest with you, Billy, about how I spend my nights," He took a pause long enough that Alfred was beginning to look both surprised and hopeful, but he only said, "I am working on finding your mother's research, just as I promised you, and Alfred is helping me; that's why we were away last night."
Billy blinked and asked curiously, "So um, did you guys find anything?"
"I am getting close," Bruce said, "Perhaps only a few more nights' work. I am seeing to this personally, Billy, and I promise you, your mother's work will be published for the whole world to see and to admire, trust me."
Billy nodded with a smile, "Of course I trust you, Mr. Wayne."
Bruce Wayne looked back at his son silently. Ai, for all the bright smiles and talks of trust and even the breakfast in bed, the boy still called him Mr. Wayne. Which was just as well; Bruce Wayne did not think he was ready to be called father again, not yet.