Alfred meant a lot to Bruce, he passed away a few weeks ago. Maybe a mission gone rogue, or a leak in his identity. Something went wrong and Bruce blamed himself, it was evident in the way he thought with his fists. Growing more tense each day, burning at both ends. It concerned you, as the new butler. Alfred taught you everything he knew and more, the old man was smart. He knew he was getting old, and he knew this was a risky job so he prepared ahead with you.

But he put his whole heart and life into it, practically raising Bruce himself after the vigilante's parents died. But Alfred raised you as well, proudly his kid. Adopted and taught everything the old man knew, you never met Bruce. Not till you moved into the manor and started your job, not till this late night. Here, sweeping the floors in the kitchen.

Bruce was frozen, fridge open. And a leftover box of pasta in hand, he stared at you with furrowed brows. The vigilante's arms are bandaged sloppily, chin unshaved leaving a stubble to grow. And heavy eye bags. Tim, Dick, Damian, and Jason have met you. At the funeral, Bruce being blinded by his own pain never even once thought to think Alfred would have a family.

And he didn't know there was a new butler, of course, he didn't. He was drowning himself in work, he didn't question or notice the food being left at his door. The fridge being re-stocked weekly, the manor spotless like Alfred was still here.