This is kind of a PWP. It just came to mind and I wanted to write it.
Warning: this is a slash fic. Pairing: Bruce/Alfred. No sex, just cuddling
and kisses. Hope whoever reads it, likes it!
Title: Headache
Author: Onyx, a.k.a. AlfieLuv
Rating: PG
Summary: Bruce has a headache and "play-time" has been postponed.
Disclaimers: Alas, not mine *sigh*. Not making any money, just writing this because I have a seriously warped mind!
HEADACHE
Bruce's muscles were tired and achy, and he felt as if conga drums were being played in his head. Very big conga drums.--Of course, that could probably be because he was hit over the head with a chair.--With great effort, he pulled himself out of the car and dragged his heavy feet across the dark stone floor of the cave to the large black chair in front of the massive computer. A sigh of relief burst from his lungs once his body collapsed into the chair. He was only thirty-four years old, but there were some nights--some villains--that made him feel well past his prime.
A soft click emanated from the clock entrance above and footsteps clapped against the stone steps as a shadowed body descended into the cave. After a few moments, Bruce opened his eyes in time to see a silver tray being placed on the table next to him. On the tray was a glass of milk, a sandwich and a small bottle of aspirin.
"You don't have to do that, you know?"
"It's my job."
Bruce sighed with impatience. "I thought we discussed this?"
"No, *you* discussed, I merely sat there."
Bruce rolled his eyes. "I really wish you wouldn't--"
Bruce was cut off by a glass of milk and two aspirin being thrust in his direction. He looked up, a small smile of amusement playing on Alfred's face.
"You enjoy this, don't you?" Bruce asked, taking the proffered glass and swallowing the pills.
"Not quite as much as I enjoy the *other* things, but yes."
Despite his fatigue, Bruce managed a weak smile as he handed the glass back. After a moment, he leaned back in the chair, weariness taking over his features.
"Are you alright?" Alfred asked with concern, stepping closer to Bruce.
The younger man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and opened his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders as he looked up into Alfred's kind face. Without a word, Bruce reached out, gently grabbing Alfred's hips, and pulled him closer, resting his forehead against the other man's stomach.
"What happened?" Alfred absently ran his fingers through Bruce's damp and disheveled hair.
"I chased the Joker, Harley, and their goon-squad all over the city, cornered them in an old abandoned restaurant, managed to leave the goons hanging --literally-- but not before they got a few good punches in. Harley shot me in the back with one of the boxing glove guns before I could capture her, and the Joker hit me over the head with a rot-iron chair."
"Good heavens! And--" Alfred suddenly felt the bump on Bruce's head. "Oh, my!"
Bruce winced at the contact and reached up, removing Alfred's fingers from the sensitive area. "Don't worry. I'm not nauseous, I can see straight, and I'm not dizzy. I just have one hell of a headache."
Alfred sighed and knelt down in front of Bruce. "Am I to assume, then, tonight's plans have been postponed?"
"I'm sorry," Bruce said, allowing every ounce of regret he felt to seep into his words. He pulled his gloves off and captured Alfred's hands in his before laying a tender kiss on the older man's lips. "I know you were looking forward to tonight. I was, too." He kissed Alfred again, this time on the cheek and, for a time, the two remained in silence, their foreheads pressed together, their eyes closed.
Bruce was the first to break the silence. "You know what?" he whispered.
"Mmm?" Alfred mumbled, his eyes still closed.
"I think I could handle a massage."
Alfred's eyes fluttered open. "Splendid!" He quickly stood up. "After the long day I have had, a massage does sound good." Alfred walked over to the table and gathered the tray.
"Huh? Wh-No, Alfr--"
"I shall be upstairs. By the time you are finished with your shower-and, Bruce, I do recommend you take one-I shall have finished putting your sandwich in the refrigerator and tidying up the kitchen. If I'm not in the kitchen...I trust you know where to find me?" Alfred raised his eyebrow and allowed a sly smile to spread across his face.
Before Bruce could respond, Alfred turned on his heels and ascended the stairs.
"Alfred....Alfred!" Bruce sighed. "That really wasn't what I meant...."
~FIN~
Title: Headache
Author: Onyx, a.k.a. AlfieLuv
Rating: PG
Summary: Bruce has a headache and "play-time" has been postponed.
Disclaimers: Alas, not mine *sigh*. Not making any money, just writing this because I have a seriously warped mind!
HEADACHE
Bruce's muscles were tired and achy, and he felt as if conga drums were being played in his head. Very big conga drums.--Of course, that could probably be because he was hit over the head with a chair.--With great effort, he pulled himself out of the car and dragged his heavy feet across the dark stone floor of the cave to the large black chair in front of the massive computer. A sigh of relief burst from his lungs once his body collapsed into the chair. He was only thirty-four years old, but there were some nights--some villains--that made him feel well past his prime.
A soft click emanated from the clock entrance above and footsteps clapped against the stone steps as a shadowed body descended into the cave. After a few moments, Bruce opened his eyes in time to see a silver tray being placed on the table next to him. On the tray was a glass of milk, a sandwich and a small bottle of aspirin.
"You don't have to do that, you know?"
"It's my job."
Bruce sighed with impatience. "I thought we discussed this?"
"No, *you* discussed, I merely sat there."
Bruce rolled his eyes. "I really wish you wouldn't--"
Bruce was cut off by a glass of milk and two aspirin being thrust in his direction. He looked up, a small smile of amusement playing on Alfred's face.
"You enjoy this, don't you?" Bruce asked, taking the proffered glass and swallowing the pills.
"Not quite as much as I enjoy the *other* things, but yes."
Despite his fatigue, Bruce managed a weak smile as he handed the glass back. After a moment, he leaned back in the chair, weariness taking over his features.
"Are you alright?" Alfred asked with concern, stepping closer to Bruce.
The younger man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and opened his eyes. He shrugged his shoulders as he looked up into Alfred's kind face. Without a word, Bruce reached out, gently grabbing Alfred's hips, and pulled him closer, resting his forehead against the other man's stomach.
"What happened?" Alfred absently ran his fingers through Bruce's damp and disheveled hair.
"I chased the Joker, Harley, and their goon-squad all over the city, cornered them in an old abandoned restaurant, managed to leave the goons hanging --literally-- but not before they got a few good punches in. Harley shot me in the back with one of the boxing glove guns before I could capture her, and the Joker hit me over the head with a rot-iron chair."
"Good heavens! And--" Alfred suddenly felt the bump on Bruce's head. "Oh, my!"
Bruce winced at the contact and reached up, removing Alfred's fingers from the sensitive area. "Don't worry. I'm not nauseous, I can see straight, and I'm not dizzy. I just have one hell of a headache."
Alfred sighed and knelt down in front of Bruce. "Am I to assume, then, tonight's plans have been postponed?"
"I'm sorry," Bruce said, allowing every ounce of regret he felt to seep into his words. He pulled his gloves off and captured Alfred's hands in his before laying a tender kiss on the older man's lips. "I know you were looking forward to tonight. I was, too." He kissed Alfred again, this time on the cheek and, for a time, the two remained in silence, their foreheads pressed together, their eyes closed.
Bruce was the first to break the silence. "You know what?" he whispered.
"Mmm?" Alfred mumbled, his eyes still closed.
"I think I could handle a massage."
Alfred's eyes fluttered open. "Splendid!" He quickly stood up. "After the long day I have had, a massage does sound good." Alfred walked over to the table and gathered the tray.
"Huh? Wh-No, Alfr--"
"I shall be upstairs. By the time you are finished with your shower-and, Bruce, I do recommend you take one-I shall have finished putting your sandwich in the refrigerator and tidying up the kitchen. If I'm not in the kitchen...I trust you know where to find me?" Alfred raised his eyebrow and allowed a sly smile to spread across his face.
Before Bruce could respond, Alfred turned on his heels and ascended the stairs.
"Alfred....Alfred!" Bruce sighed. "That really wasn't what I meant...."
~FIN~