"Sir, I wasn't sure what you were in the mood for today, so I-" The only thing that kept Alfred from dropping the breakfast tray he held was forty years of being a butler, and another ten before that of being a soldier. Because in Master Bruce's bed lay Bruce, entangled in the arms –and legs—of a blond man. A MAN! Bruce looked up from stroking the man's hair and smiled at Alfred in a dreamy, half asleep and totally satiated way. "Hey Alfred. How was your trip? I trust your sister is well?" Alfred had just spent a week in England, visiting his sister, on Bruce's suggestion. He recovered quickly, being the resilient man that he is. "She is well. I don't believe I've been introduced to your..." he struggled for the right word. "house guest." The blond man looked up at him, and the tray clattered to the ground. He would recognize those scars anywhere. And now that he looked about the room, he saw purple and blue and green clothing scattered about the floor, mixed –and here was Alfred's real horror –with pieces of armor that made up the batsuit. "Master Wayne?" Bruce frowned, and then sat bolt upright. "Alfred! Uh, well, I guess I've got some explaining to do." Alfred frowned. "Your damn right, sir. Get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen."
I realized that up until now, no Alfred has been present. So, here he is! Ta-DA!
Not mine.