thebatbutler: (Sideways glance/ Is that right sir?)
WHO: Alfred Pennyworth and Bruce Wayne [Closed]
WHERE: The Wayne Manor, De Chima
WHEN: The afternoon of the 25th
WHAT: Alfred goes to rouse Master Bruce from his slumber for a late breakfast and they both get a little surprise.
WARNINGS: Tiny Bruce. Too much cute and indignation to handle.

There's nothing significant to set this particular day apart from any other as Alfred prepares a late breakfast for Master Bruce in the kitchen sometime around noon. The younger man was generally up until all hours of the night, either tinkering about in the cave beneath the manor or taking to the streets and rooftops as Batman, but it wasn't unusual for Alfred to have to cater to his odd sleeping habits. Although he did insist that Bruce at least be up and about by noon. He did still have a job to go to here, along with any other less publicly know habits that he'd resumed.

Alfred gives a cursory knock on the door, breakfast tray balanced between one hand and his shoulder before he lets himself in. The room is dark, blackout curtains drawn over the windows, and Alfred makes his way to the bed from memory, aided by the faint light coming in from the door. He sets the tray on the bedside table and walks over to the windows throwing the curtains open.

"Good morning Master Bruce. I believe it's time that you-" As he talks, he secures the curtains back from the window on one side, cutting himself off as he turns back to the bed. For a moment he thinks that the bed is empty and perhaps Bruce had fallen asleep at his work again, but there is somebody in the bed. Somebody much smaller than the somebody that ought to be in this bed. Alfred approaches the bed cautiously and looks down at the child sleeping there.

"Master Bruce?"

This can't be happening.

Date: 2015-03-22 01:50 pm (UTC)From: [personal profile] chiroptophobic
chiroptophobic: (Bruce; To Justice)
The night had been long, and Bruce hadn't got the early night he'd meant to, staying up much later to do research on the small groups of criminals on the back streets of De Chima and putting some feelers out about people's imPort sentiment on various message boards. He finished off the morning by making some small adjustments to the precision of his batclaw, which had been playing up recently, before finally getting to bed at just before eleven, leaving a note to Alfred not to disturb him until at least three.

He slept very well, very deeply--four hours, REM sleep--that was the point. So he slept hard, and undisturbed, except for one brief moment when he felt like he was being swamped by all the blankets on his bed, and - mid sleep - kicked his way into an even more tangled mess, gave up and carried on.

He woke slowly, as Alfred threw open the drapes, and groaned, and rolled over, and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of both hands, digging his knuckles in and yawning. He felt...he felt pretty good; fresh and well rested. None of his aches and pains were giving him any trouble, and really, he needed to get his hair cut because it was all in his eyes, right in the way of everything.

But Alfred looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"What is it, Alfred? Is that breakfast?" And then he froze, because his voice had un-un-broken, and...were his feet a lot closer all of a sudden? The room seemed to be enormous, and Alfred was all but looming over him. What...what was going on here?

Date: 2015-03-25 01:00 am (UTC)From: [personal profile] chiroptophobic
chiroptophobic: (Bruce; Oh Okay)
Bruce didn't need empathy to be able to pick out Alfred's confusion, his sudden edgy discomfort. He was feeling confused and uncomfortable himself, baffled by the world looming over him and his own feet, and when he put his hands back down he was unsettled by the size of them too. It was such a completely out of body experience that even though to a mind as sharp as his the connotations should be obvious, his mind was blanking on them entirely. This couldn't be happening, so it's impossibility absolved it of being fact, at least for a few more startled seconds, until Alfred - uncharacteristically brushing his hair out of his eyes - told him so unreservedly.

He was a child. He didn't even know how it had happened, and it negated the responsibility of eating breakfast. It was much more important to find out how and why this had happened, and get it changed back right now.

He sat up and looked back and forth across the room, then back to Alfred's face, trying to pick up on some of the hidden emotions there. Alfred was handling this problem very well, but Bruce couldn't help but think that he was putting on a front just for him. For Bruce, being this little again meant being helpless - and he had felt helpless, for so very many years, and not just because of his size. It was a time in his life that had been very difficult, and only Alfred had been there to help him through it. Alfred had handled that burden, and it must have been difficult for him.

This was bringing back ghosts that neither of them were ready to face.

"I remember. I went to sleep and woke up this way. I imagine if it's happened to me, it's probably happened to others. Alfred--" He lifted his breakfast aside. "Will you fetch me my device? We should investigate this right away."


thebatbutler: (Default)
Alfred Pennyworth

March 2015

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