"Alfred?"

Alfred Pennyworth turned away from the linen cabinet to find Dick standing next to him, looking exhausted and sullen. Alfred braced himself for a wave of complaints.

"Yes, Master Grayson?"

"Why do you think Bruce has been so uptight lately?"

These were not the words Alfred was expecting at all. He set the linens he held on a random shelf. "What do you mean by uptight?"

"Oh," Dick looked pensive for a moment. "He's just had a short fuse with me this last week, and especially with Robin. He's been ordering me around and telling me off for little things like…" Dick leaned against the wall and frowned. "Oh, like not keeping my costume clean. Since when has he cared if my costume is dirty anyway?" Dick rolled his eyes.

Alfred sighed, and closed his eyes. "Dick, how would you like hot cocoa?"

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Dick breathed in the cocoas sweet aroma and leaned back in the chair. As he stretched his legs, his strained back relaxed. He sat next to Alfred at the table in Wayne manors large kitchen. Rain pattered softly against the windows.

Alfred sighed, the third time he had done so in the past minute. He too held a mug of cocoa. "So you'd like to talk about Bruce?"

"Yeah. Lately, he's been so ticked at me, and I don't think it's something I'm doing." He sipped his cocoa.

"It's not you, Dick. Bruce has been feeling…" Alfred frowned, searching for the words. "Bruce has been feeling older recently. The years he has spent being Batman, the years without a love life, without friends, are beginning to weigh on him." He sipped his cocoa. "He's watching the lives of everyone around him move forward, while he stands still. All his friends- those few he has- all have families, careers… everything he desires."

"But look at all he's done! If it weren't for him, Gotham would still be a petri dish for corruption," Dick said. "He's accomplished more than any of his friends."

"But who can he tell? Bruce has very few real friends; those people who are friends with Bruce Wayne only know half the man. Has it ever occurred to you that there are only four people in all of the world who know who is under that mask? As far as everyone else knows, Bruce Wayne is just a rich man who doesn't know what to do with his money."

"I- I…" Dick was struck numb. His mug suddenly felt unbearably hot; his eyelids heavy.f

"Ah, Alfred? I'll need to borrow some sheets. I'm going to sleep in the cave tonight." It was the only thing Dick could think of to say.

Alfred raised his eyebrow, but Dick shook his head. He would explain tomorrow morning.

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Alfred gathered the sheets and pillows without asking for further explanation, and he didn't question Dick when informed that he should bring two breakfasts down. Dick was standing at the elevator leading to the cave when Alfred did something unexpected.

"Dick?"

Dick was turned, surprised. Alfred rarely called by his nickname.

"Goodnight, Dick." Alfred swept Dick into a tight hug, rustling his hair and squeezing his shoulders. "Sleep well." And Alfred walked off down the hall without looking back.

The elevator dinged behind him, but Dick didn't move. Where had that come from? Alfred has always thought of Dick as a grandson, but rarely were there outward signs of it. It was usually things like a chocolate on Dick's pillow, a note in his back pack, a home baked cookie in his lunch. But a hug… that was rare.

Dick shuffled into the elevator. It didn't really matter why, he supposed. He closed his eyes and sunk to the floor of the elevator. He had much more pressing things to think about.

Authors Note: Again, it's short, but expect another chapter this week.