Notes: I wonder how many readers will we lose as soon as we introduce this minor OC...
Alfred looked torn between shock and...dare he say it?...amusement when Dick came home with the baby. His baby. His son.
It was just beginning to sink in, that he had produced - well, of course Cheyenne had a part in it too - the little bundle in his arms. All the missions involving future technologies, alien planets, random acts of sorcery, and he just did something opposite: he had created life. And didn't that sound awesome?
"I hope you do remember that my duties are that of a butler and not a nanny?" Alfred said pointedly, and reality gleefully crashed in with a sharp needle to burst his bubble.
"I know, Alfie. I just...I don't know how to do this."
The old man's eyes softened. "And that is a common situation for new fathers among the world. Come, you will have to learn the proper mix of infant formula before the child awakens."
"Alfie...is this what Bruce... Was Bruce..." he couldn't find the right words to say the awkwardness he felt, the feeling that he was swinging on the trapeze and someone had taken away the rest of the bars and he wasn't exactly sure where to go...
A wrinkled but still strong hand rested on his shoulder. "Master Dick, Master Bruce never had to deal with an infant. You were all past toddling years when you came to the Manor."
Oh. Right.
The same hand gave a reassuring squeeze. "When you came into Master Bruce's life, he was terrified." Alfred stated. "He did not know how to take care of a little boy, even one as delightful as you." That earned him a small smile. "But, with time, he learned." Another squeeze. "And just as he did, you will learn too."
Dick turned a grateful gaze to the older man, putting his own hand over the one on his shoulder. "Thank you Alfie. I don't know what Dusty and I would do without you."
Alfred drew back in confusion. "Dusty?"
"The baby." Dick grinned affectionately at the bundle in his arms. "His name's Dustin. 'Dusty' for short."
The Butler clucked disapprovingly. "An object is 'Dusty', a baby is most certainly not 'Dusty'."
"It's a cute name!"
"Quiet down Master Richard." Alfred lightly scolded. "You mustn't wake Master Dustin." For anyone not listening for it, they wouldn't have picked up on the Butler's oh-so-subtle emphasis on the baby's name. Good 'ol Alfie, subtlety is thy name.
Subtlety, however, was definitely not Damian's.
"Grayson!" the boy stomped into the room. "Where have you been? Patrol is only a few hours away and we haven't sparred in preparation because you have been dawdling arou-" Stormy blue eyes darted to the bundle in Dick's arms. "-what are you holding."
"A baby, Damie. I'm holding a baby" his elder brother said patiently.
Damian blinked. "Why?"
"Because...he's sleeping?"
In one smooth move that Dick would be eternally grateful for, Alfred stepped in and swooped the bundle out of Dick's arms. "I will handle Master Dustin, Master Richard. The poor boy will be hungry when he wakes up. In the meanwhile, I do believe you and Master Damian need to have a talk."
"But...I..." Dick suddenly found himself reaching for the baby and had to consciously tell himself that Dusty was in good hands. Alfred would know how best to take care of him until Dick learned to do it himself. But the sudden loss of weight in his arms had him staring at the butler's retreating back.
"Grayson?" His youngest brother's voice snapped him out of his stupor.
"Ah, sorry Damie. I guess..." he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, there's something we need to talk about."