A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been a bit, but here's the new update! It was inspired by a friend. As always, feel free to review, follow, favorite, PM us, or check out our other stories! Thank you and I hope you enjoy! P.S. I have a question for you guys. Would you like shorter stories with quicker updates, like 1k word(ish) stories, or would you like longer stories with a more sporadic, further apart updates 1.5k+ word stories? The short ones would be about this length- I'm experimenting with this chapter for length. I would appreciate your comments and opinions! Thanks guys! ~ G
Alfred didn't know how important the little things were - opening the door, holding the umbrella, cooking him lunch. Just the boys presence filled him with so much indescribable joy, a warmth that rivals that of the Sahara. He had no idea how important the boy was to him until he was gone.
Alfred sat outside the school, staring bleakly at the walls and halls that separated him and his charge. He never knew that the boy could have so much of an effect on him. These past few weeks since the death of the Waynes, bless them, it was just the two of them, no one else. The butler had gotten used to it, quite honestly. He felt.. empty, in a way.
Bruce had become just as much of a part of his existence as he had Bruce's. They depended upon each other, the two. They counted on one another to be there in the times of weakness when the dark became too much. Queen knows that's happened more than once in the previous weeks, and it will surely happen again. Neither of them were over it, although - Alfred supposed - they never will be. It's not something you just.. Get over.
The butler's thoughts were interrupted by a loud bell ringing, and the courtyard filling up with rowdy teenagers. He sighed - this was not the place for Bruce. After about five minutes of waiting patiently, Bruce came out through the courtyard and entered the side of the limousine, silently refusing Alfred's help. The butler understood. It was Bruce's first day, and he did not want to make the wrong impression. Or so Alfred thought, at least. That's how it was when he was in primary. Oh what a time.
"Good day, Master Bruce?"
Bruce remained silent, staring out the window.
"Bruce?"
"They made fun of them," he said quietly.
"What was that, Master Bruce?"
"They made fun of them, Alfred," Bruce turned to look him in the eyes. "They made fun of mom and dad being dead," And the boy had had enough for one day. He broke, throwing himself onto the butler.
Alfred gritted his teeth and held the crying boy in his arms. They had messed with his boy. He would not stand for this. He drove back to the Manor with one arm, the other being wrapped around the now silent young billionaire.
He would make short work of this horrid, childish behavior.
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.
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"Where are we going?" Bruce asked as Alfred ushered him into the limousine.
"You'll find out," Alfred replied covertly, and drove back into town.
It was a twenty minute drive to the child's house - Jeremy Blackwell, Alfred had found out. When they arrived, Bruce stepped out of the car, wondering what was going on.
"Alfred, what are we doing here?"
Alfred pulled out a golden watch, and eyed it tentatively. He carefully placed it into Bruce's small hands.
"This is your father's watch," Alfred said, and Bruce immediately developed a newfound attitude toward the relic. "Don't you lose it, now. Because, you're going to use it to go beat that shit-talking kid's face in."
Bruce stood, mouth agape, as Alfred pushed him towards the door, and stood next to the car, holding the umbrella. He had done all he could; this was Bruce's fight now. Bruce walked toward the door, and looked back at Alfred hesitantly. Alfred nodded, Bruce rang the doorbell, and Alfred held his breath.
The door opened, revealing an ogre of a boy. Alfred was quite surprised that he had managed to get such a reaction out of Bruce; he figured rye boy would handle himself better, but the butler had no room to talk. He had not just had his parents ripped away five weeks prior.
Alfred could not understand what was being said, but from the beating Bruce gave the boy, he's sure it didn't matter. Bruce would not have any trouble from now on, Alfred was sure of it. He walked up to Bruce, and put his hand on his shoulder - enough was enough. Bruce immediately straightened up, and collected himself.
Alfred stared down the boy, Jeremy he assumed, and covered Bruce with the umbrella as it began a slight drizzle.
"What would you like for dinner, Master Bruce?"
"I think I would like pizza."
"Pizza! An excellent choice, Master Bruce!" Alfred exclaimed in mock excitement, overdoing everything he could in front of the ogre of a boy.
He looked down and the fallen boy. "Good day, sir." He placed his hand upon Bruce's shoulder and the two headed back towards the car. Alfred opened the door for Bruce, and then entered the vehicle himself, throwing the umbrella in the back.
"Where to now, Master Bruce?"
"Lenny's, my butler," Bruce said.
"Right away sir," Alfred grinned, still continuing their ruse for Bruce's sake. The both smiled at each other as they left the ogre-boy in the mirror and headed towards the Italian restaurant.
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"I'm proud of you," Alfred said on the drive back home. Bruce looked up from his pizza, already two slices deep in the fresh, homemade goodness, and smiled a sly smile. It disappeared in an instant, and if Alfred hadn't been looking - he would have missed it. They sat in silent for a few minutes.
"I learned from the best," Bruce said quietly. Alfred grinned so brightly that the stars in the sky could see it. Bruce handed Alfred a slice of pizza as he drove, and Alfred was thrilled.
The pizza was good, but it was not as good as the feeling in Alfred's heart. Bruce Wayne felt the same way Alfred did. He was important to his boy, and he would be for a long time.
His heart swelled at the thought.
"You know what goes well with pizza?" Bruce asked, a smile blossoming on his face.
"And what would that be, Master Bruce?"
"Ice cream," Bruce grinned.
Alfred sighed, rolled his eyes, but still turned the car around, a smile forming just barely against the edges of his lips.