Thank you all for your amazing response. I hope this one will not disappoint you. As always, expect my feeble attempts at English language and humour slash fluff slash feels.
Alfred Pennyworth is thankful for the life he has been leading. He is thankful even for the sad bits, as the universe is sometimes prone to prove the sad that nothing happens without a reason. Of course, that notion is hard to explain to an eight-year-old grieving boy. Any boy, to be honest, age does not matter. As the butler to the Wayne family, he leads an exceptionally busy life that taught him many things, but he hoped he would never have to repeat the experience he had with Bruce, a man he grew to love like a son, to see a child go through a stage of overwhelming grief that would not let anyone in. But boys grow up. Become men. And men start their own families. It seemed as a foolish notion that Bruce would settle down. For a while, as Bruce took on the mantle of Batman, the Dark Knight, the Gotham's elusive vigilante, Alfred thought that he would be Bruce's only family and he despaired the day that inevitably comes for everyone – because what will happen, when Bruce's last remaining family departs from this world? Or would it be Bruce who will departs first? Alfred would not survive that event.
It was actually a very sad occasion that brought hope into the Wayne household again. And again. And again. And once again. Before Alfred realized it (or Bruce, for that matter), he was suddenly taking care of four beautiful (and so overwhelmingly sad and happy at the same time) children that Alfred thought of as his own grandchildren. One night, after settling them all in their respective bed, Alfred smiled at exhausted Bruce, he was very proud of his son.
Richard, Jason, Timothy, and Cassandra were undoubtedly a handful. Alfred thankfully accumulated enough experience with unruly (and grieving) children, so play, education and clean up has usually proven to be no problem at all. What has proved to be more of a challenge has been the vigilante business the children saw as their duty and legacy. Which is where the experience from superhero community came into action. And the world is still marching on, crisis or no crisis. Alfred learnt to take what may come. Now, the world decided to grant them happiness. But the fate likes to keep its subjects on toes, so of course this day had to come down in history exactly like it did, or it would not be in accords to their luck.
It was, actually, a really nice and quiet Saturday. Master Bruce was holed up in his office since breakfast, emerging only for lunch, and then slipping back in again. Young master Jason has been dragged by his younger siblings to the library, looking for classics they could read together, and Young Master Dick decided to play with a football in the garden (away from the priced flowers, thankfully). Alfred, deciding to have a quiet Saturday with them, finished his duties in the kitchen and then found a quiet spot to have a cup of tea and read in peace before it was time to prepare the afternoon snacks for the whole family and then time to prepare dinner. Before retiring, he did one last check on all the children – Bruce (yes, he is counted as a child) was overlooking files in relation to a business contract that has been causing trouble since last month, Jason was reading Treasure Island to Cassandra and Timothy, the former mouthing new words and the latter smiling encouragingly, and he saw Richard cleaning up the shed in the back garden, probably looking for another toy to play with.
Life was nice and quiet. And to be honest, Alfred should have realized sooner that something is bound to happen soon, as peace and quiet does not last long in this household.
When it was time for the children to have their afternoon snack, Jason, Tim, and Cass were on time as always, but Master Bruce, and, worryingly, Young Master Dick, lacked the punctuality the hungry trio displayed when they barged in to the kitchen, worried they came in late. Alfred decided to make the more stubborn of them to come down first – Bruce, obviously. He found him in the office, muttering about incompetency and stubborn businessmen. "Master Bruce?" Bruce Wayne tiredly looked up, surprised to see Alfred looking at him disapprovingly. "It is time for the afternoon snack, and the children would like to eat with you." Alfred decided that the prosecution that would follow if Bruce will not adhere to these instructions needn't be voiced. "Yes, of course, I am sorry, Alfred."
"If you could go downstairs, I will collect Young Master Dick from his room." Bruce frowned. "I thought he was out in the garden?"
"He was, but according to Young Master Jason, he came back and was hiding something from his siblings, when he passed the library on the way up." Translation – Jason tattled. Because Dick kept bringing in strays, mostly cats, rabbits he caught in the woods behind the manor, and on one memorable occasion, a nest full of abandoned birds, but Bruce did not let him keep any of them. Alfred though that maybe a dog for all the children to take care of would teach them responsibility and would tire them of the energy they kept having close to their bedtime. Bruce disagreed, thinking that they already were a large crowd, a large crowd he loved, yes, but larger than he ever thought he will have multiplied by four, and, as Alfred expected, he sighed angrily, but tiredly at the same time. "Of course, I am going with you, in case we need to phone animal control…" Again.
It was a short and brisk walk from Bruce's office to the oldest child's room. And even before they arrived, they heard Dick's voice carrying through the doors. "And you will love Bruce, he's a great dad, even if he's always busy." Alfred was about to open the doors, but Bruce stopped him from knocking and turning the doorknob. At first, Alfred was not sure why, but then thought about it again. Yes, it is not unusual for a boy to speak with a pet. But the tone was slightly different than the last time's "That's a good boy, good dog." And for another matter, if he did not have a stray inside that room, … Well, Dick is twelve years old and all of his siblings are downstairs, munching on the brioche, even though they are supposed to be waiting for others to arrive. He is too old for alone pretend play. They decided to wait, pressing their head closer to the wood of the heavy doors.
"Oh, yes, you also will love Jason, we passed him on the way, but I wanted to keep you for myself a bit longer, he is great, he is reading to Timmy and Cass, he likes it too, but now that Cass is here, it also helps her to learn to read and talk, so that makes him a pretty awesome older brother! It'd be awesome if he could read to you, too. He will definitely like you, he can be a little grouchy sometimes, but he loves us. And Cass and Timmy will adore you, though maybe Timmy would be disappointed he's not the baby anymore. Jason thinks Tim likes to be babied, but I am not sure…"
Alfred frowned and Bruce looked at him, deeply concerned. "Wait, you can't roll under my bed! … Got you. Don't look at me like that. That's because we'll never get you out if you get stuck there, and I don't want you stuck under there forever! It would be really lonely and weird; how would you go to school with us?"
Alfred looked at bewildered Bruce, who mouthed "school" disbelievingly. It sounded as if he was speaking to a person in there. Not an animal.
"Aww, I am sorry, here." There was a jingle and then a smack followed by something falling on the floor. "No? You don't like the keys anymore?" Curiouser and curiouser. Maybe it's time to call authorities. "Hey, what about a kiss? Mom used to give me those, when I was little. Would you like a kiss?" Yes, well, time to open the doors at the least. Alfred quickly turned the doorknob, with Bruce calling out his son's name when – that picture greeted them.
It was not a scene they expected. Well, to be honest, Alfred was not sure what he expected at all, but this was certainly not on the list. Or if it was, it was at the very last place, scribbled out for its ridiculousness.
Young Master Dick was sitting on the rug by his bed with a fussy and pudgy dark haired six months old, give or take, baby sitting on his lap, gnawing on Richard's wrist. Alfred only needed to look once to know whose baby it is. He turned to look at his gobsmacked son, very disappointed in him. Richard looked up, surprised, and then he smiled brilliantly, crying out, "Alfred, Bruce! Look who's here! Damian arrived!"
