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Bruce stared out through the window, pressing his nose against the glass as he fixed his gaze on something outside the school. Alfred raised a brow, waiting for him to sit back and buckle up.
“Seat belt, Master Bruce.” Alfred reminded him, watching him as he continued to look out the window. He frowned, casting his gaze toward his intended object. His heart squeezed tight as he saw a little boy bundled up and sitting on the curb outside of the school. “Isn’t that your friend, Robin?”
Bruce nodded his head, “Where’s his daddy, Alfred?” He questioned. “It’s late!”
Alfred frowned, noting the time. It was indeed late. Bruce always had a fencing instruction for an hour after classes on Friday afternoons. “I don’t have the slightest idea, Master Bruce.”
Bruce climbed out from the back seat and sat down next to him in the front seat. “Can he come home with us?”
He glanced over at his ward, noticing his worried expression and nodded. “Very well.”
Bruce grinned, scrambling out the door of the car and running over to his friend. Robin glanced over at the car and worried his lip before he agreed and followed Bruce back to the car.
Bruce climbed back into the car and helped Robin in after him. “Robin, this is Alfred.”
“I remember,” he smiled as he settled back in his seat and buckled up. “Thank you, Mister Alfred, sir.”
“You’re quite welcome, Master Robin.” Alfred nodded, glancing back at them. “Where to, good sirs?”
Robin giggled. “I’m not a sir!”
Alfred chuckled at that and Bruce grinned. “It’s proper English butler training,” Bruce explained. “I bet he’ll call you John if you asked him.”
Robin’s eyes lit up and he looked to Alfred. “Can you call me John?” He asked and Alfred didn’t have the heart to deny such a request.
“Very well, Master John, would there be anything else?”
Robin beamed up at him, his eyes sparkling and his smile true. “Nah, that’s the best!”
“Can we go to Mickey’s and get some ice cream?” Bruce asked, leaning forward slightly as he buckled his seatbelt.
“If that’s what you’d like, but I have fresh chocolate chip cookies waiting for you at home.” Alfred replied and Robin and Bruce shared a look.
“I vote cookies,” Robin grinned.
“I do believe there is enough ice cream to make those cookies à la mode,” he added, sweetening the deal.
“Why didn’t you say that first?” Bruce gasped, “Cookies it is!”
Robin frowned, tugging on Bruce’s jacket. “What’s à la mode?”
“It’s ice cream on top!”
Robin’s eyes widened in awe, “You can have ice cream on cookies? That’s the best thing ever!”
Alfred smiled, amused by the younger boy’s actions. It was rather refreshing and he drove his young cargo to the Wayne Manor and led them into the kitchen. Robin was full of questions, asking about every little detail that Alfred had no problem answering.
“You’re very astute, Master John.” Alfred praised him and Robin smiled, his cheeks flushing. “And I do believe I promised you cookies à la mode.”
Bruce sat down at the kitchen table and Robin sat down beside him. “Alfred’s cookies are the best!”
“Why thank you, Master Bruce.” He smiled as he prepared their dishes, spoiling them a little by giving them a little more than they really needed. He handed them each a bowl of two freshly baked cookies and a healthy scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.
“Oh, nummy,” Robin grinned as he dug in, his eyes brightening with glee. “This is the best thing I’ve put in my tummy!”
Alfred nodded, chuckling lightly as he watched the boys finish off their treats. “Master John, is there someone we can call for you?”
Robin’s face immediately fell, his shoulders slumping inward as if he was trying to hide in his seat and Alfred immediately regretted asking him. “I dunno, my daddy probably forgot to pick me up.”
Bruce scooted his chair closer to him and Robin gave him a small smile of thanks. “Then I shall ring him up and see if you can stay for dinner.”
He perked up at that and he nodded, “A real dinner?”
Alfred had to force a neutral expression on his face at the question, it was absurd that the young boy wouldn’t be eating meals accordingly. “I’m not sure I know what a fake dinner is, Master John.”
“The boxed, frozen kind,” Robin made a face, sticking his tongue out. “I zap it in the microwave.”
“I see, and your father approves of this?” He questioned as Robin shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s the only thing to eat and it’s easy for me to make,” he reasoned and Bruce’s face hardened, lips thinning in anger.
“That’s not right!” Bruce looked to Alfred. “Alfred…” he began and he knew that Bruce was trying to think of a way to help his friend more than just a simple meal. But in reality there was little to do, Alfred made a mental note to speak with patriarch of the family to see if they could report Robin’s father to the authorities and give the young man the care he deserves.
“Master John, since you are our honored guest for the night, what would you like to have for dinner?” Robin’s eyes widened slightly and he glanced at Bruce.
Bruce leaned in, whispering in his ear. Robin giggled, nodding his head in agreement. “Pizza!”
Alfred raised a brow, he should have guessed as much. “Very well, why don’t you two go out and play for a bit.” They both shouted with glee and practically jumped out of their chairs and made a beeline for the door. “Jackets,” he reminded them and they paused, turning back to retrieve them and then dashing past him to seek refuge in the great outdoors.
Alfred took a moment to watch them play through the windows. It brought him happiness to witness the strong friendship that they shared and the joy of life in their eyes. He sensed a deeper connection binding them and he wondered if one day they would be more than just friends. Alfred turned back to his duties and started to prepare their evening meal.
He had just placed the pizza in the oven when he heard a cry of pain. He dropped the oven mitt to the counter and quickly made his way out onto the grounds, only stopping when he was able to put a visual on the two of them. Robin was sitting on the ground with his left knee drawn up to his chest. Alfred could see the ripped material of his jeans from where he stood and he watched on as Bruce inspected the injury and then leaned in, kissing the knee lightly.
“All better?” Bruce questioned as he patted his leg.
Robin gave him a watery smile, nodding his head. “Yeah.” Bruce helped him up and soon they were racing around as if nothing had happened. Boys.
Alfred smiled, watching them for a moment longer before turning back into the Manor and letting them enjoy their youth and play until dinner was ready.
They came rushing back, bombarding him with questions. Alfred lifted his hand to silence them both. “One at a time,” he coached, looking them both over.
“I’m thirsty,” they both replied at the same time and Alfred chuckled, shaking his head.
“Wash up, dinner is almost ready and then you can both have something to drink.” Alfred began as they both scowled, glancing down at their dirty hands and rubbing them on their pants. “To the bathroom, good sirs or there shall be no dinner to be had.”
Robin giggled once more, “I’m a sir.” He smacked Bruce’s arm, “Tag you’re it!” He exclaimed as he darted out of the kitchen and down the hall.
“Hey, no fair!” Bruce gasped outraged as he followed after him.
Alfred hoped that their destination would be the bathroom and started to set the kitchen table for their dinner, bypassing the formal dining room since it was only going to be the boys tonight for dinner. The Wayne’s were at a charity dinner for the Wayne Foundation. He wouldn’t expect them until later this evening.
He was just finishing when he next saw the boys. They had discarded their jackets somewhere along the way, and they had clean hands and damp hair. Alfred raised a brow. “I do hope the bathroom excursion went well.”
“Yep,” Robin smiled as he climbed up on the seat he had vacated earlier.
Bruce scowled, clothing looking a little damper than before. “Master Bruce?” Alfred questioned and he grunted as he sat down beside Robin.
“Can we have some of that special tea that I like?” Bruce asked instead and Alfred nodded his head.
“Of course,” he prepared their tea as he listened to the boys ramble on about comic books and flying green men. It made him smile and think of his own youth.
Robin’s eyes widened when he served them their tea. “What’s that?” He questioned, pointing to the cup and attempting to look in it. “Looks kinda like coffee.”
“It’s better than coffee or so I’ve been told.” Bruce shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not allowed coffee until I’m fifteen. House rules.”
“Sixteen, Master Bruce.” Alfred corrected him and Bruce snorted.
“Coffee’s nasty,” Robin made a face as he sat up a little straighter and reached for his cup.
“And why were you drinking coffee, Master John? It will stunt your growth.” Alfred immediately followed up with, shaking his head.
Robin gasped, “But I only had a little bit with my cereal... does that count?”
Alfred felt stricken by that comment and it took all his training not to visibly respond to his question. “I do not believe so,” he began, wanting to know more. “Do you often have coffee on your cereal?”
He shrugged, “Nah, but the milk smelled funny and my daddy poured his coffee in my cereal and told me it would be okay and to shut up and eat it, so I tried to but it was yucky.” He rambled on. “And it only happened the once, but the coffee was better than the orange juice.”
Bruce openly grimaced, “Alfred.” He urged once more and Alfred could sense his distress in wanting to help his friend more.
“Drink your tea, your pizza will be ready in a few minutes,” he commented instead, placing his hand on Bruce’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. “I’ll speak with your father about your concerns.”
Bruce nodded, taking a sip of his tea and looking to John. “Do you like it?”
“Yep, it’s kinda fruity!” He grinned as he took another sip.
“I’m glad you enjoy it, Master John.” He smiled, turning back to the stove as the timer rang off. He took the pizza out of the oven and he heard the boys make noises of appreciation. Alfred knew that this was a rare treat for Bruce and he wondered after their talk earlier if this was a rare treat for Robin as well.
Alfred cut two slices for each and placed them on their respective plates. He served them at the kitchen table and watched as they dug in, laughing and talking as they enjoyed their pizza.
“Mister Alfred, sir.” Robin began as he held out his plate. “Can I have another piece, please?”
“Me too?” Bruce held up his plate as well.
Before Alfred could respond, John hit Bruce’s arm. “You didn’t say the magic word!”
Bruce raised a brow, slightly confused for a moment and Alfred waited for him to figure it out. “Please?”
“Of course, but only a slice more,” He smiled as he gave them each another slice. “I don’t want you two to have a stomach ache later.”
“Nah,” Robin grinned as he took a big bite. “We’re growing boys. Up, up, up.”
Alfred chuckled and Bruce simply smiled as he copied him and took as big of a bite as he could.
They had just finished when Alfred heard the clicking of high heels and he knew that the Wayne’s had returned.
“Where is my precious little boy?”
Bruce’s eyes lit up and he scrambled out of his seat. “Mom!” He began, “John stayed for dinner can he spend the night?”
Alfred nodded as Martha entered the room, sweeping up Bruce in her arms and giving him a kiss on his nose before placing him back down and turning to Robin. “And this must be John.”
Robin waved at her, “Hi, Aunty Marta.”
Alfred’s brow rose a fraction, curious of the boy’s greeting and the obvious surprise was written all over Martha’s face. “Robin?” She gasped as she scooped the boy up into her arms and held him close. “Oh, you’ve grown so much.”
Robin laughed, squirming in her arms. “I’m a big boy now!”
Martha kissed the top of his head and put him down, “Thomas, you remember little Robin.” She waved over her husband who had just joined them. “Natalie’s little boy.” She pressed a hand to her mouth in somber reflection. “May she rest in peace.”
Robin frowned at the mention of his mother and looked down at the floor, Bruce stepped closer to him, bumping his shoulder with his. “He likes to be called John,” Bruce pointed out.
“Yeah,” Robin nodded, looking more somber than before. “I guess I should go home now.”
“Nonsense,” Martha smiled, “Would you like to stay the night here with Bruce?”
Robin looked between her and Bruce and nodded. “Yes, please.”
“I’m sure Alfred will make some hot cocoa and cookies for a nightcap.” She glanced over at Alfred and smiled when he nodded in agreement. “Good, now why don’t you two go get ready for bed.”
They raced off, not needing to be told twice. Martha nervously wrung her hands and looked to her husband, “Oh, Thomas.” She leaned into him as he wrapped his arm around her. “I should have followed up on him sooner. Natalie would never have wanted this for her son.”
“She was a good friend that was lost too soon,” he whispered into her ear and she nodded.
She looked to Alfred, “I never realized that when Bruce was talking of his John that he was talking about Robin.” She gave him a small smile. “We had hoped our boys would become good friends.”
“And indeed they have, Miss Martha.” Alfred began, “But I fear his father isn’t treating him well... even Bruce was concerned over his comments.”
“What do you mean, has he harmed the boy?” Thomas demanded, the doctor in him seeking the answers as any concerned parent would.
“Not physically, but I fear his father has been emotionally detached and neglectful. I’m afraid the boy has been hurt in ways that may not be seen by the naked eye.” Alfred told him gravely as he recounted the comments Robin had made over the course of the afternoon.
Thomas nodded, “I’ll look into it further, thank you for alerting us Alfred.”
“Anything for the boys.”
“I shall call his father and inform him that John will be staying the night.” Thomas glanced over at Martha. “And perhaps we can arrange for him to stay the weekend, I’m sure the boys would love that.”
Martha nodded in agreement, taking his hand as they retreated into the study. Alfred knew that Robin would be in good hands under their watchful eye.
Alfred took a moment for himself and nursed a cup of tea, before he filled a tray of late night snacks and headed up to Bruce’s room. He knocked on the door and waited for a response, but there wasn’t a peep to be heard. “Master Bruce, John?”
He let himself in, putting the tray down as he realized the boys were fast asleep. Robin had curled into Bruce who had his arm protectively around him. Alfred tucked the blankets around them, “Goodnight, my brave little boys.”