Alfred's Boy Part 5
@donesodone said:
I just wanted to know. Is there a continuation of Alfred's Boy in the Works? If not, that's fine. I just love it and want to see it continue.
Bruce didn't realize how quiet Danny indeed was until Wes appeared. He suspected, of course, that no child was removed from their home by a super secret ex-spy if it wasn't a terrible, horrible reason, but still, he was shocked to see the difference.
Alfred's foster son had a weight around him, wearing his sadness like a depressing cloak. It was apparent that Danny was just tired. As if though he hadn't gotten a good night's rest in a long time, even when he was moving about and doing his chores like nothing was amiss.
Bruce will admit that he hadn't realized that Danny was so sad. He had no previous reference to compare him to, so he assumed that the boy was naturally reserved.
If he's honest, he also thought it was impressive how Danny could take anything in stride without so much as a blink.
Finding out his boss was Batman? Another Tuesday.
Tim's photo album of him? Danny appreciates the art behind photography.
Damian burst into his room, covered in bleeding wounds, he just had to have Danny bind? He took lessons from Alfred and appreciated the change to practice.
What he failed to realize was through all those events, Danny had had a lukewarm reaction, as if he had forgotten how to enjoy things.
Now, however, watching him with Wes, he realizes that Danny is naturally bubbly. He smiled wide, talked a lot with his hands, and while the same sass he had seen before was still there, there was more ease in him wielding it.
"Fun Fact: Tango was initially invented to be done between two men, " He hears Wes say, as Bruce walks by the viewing room the two boys were in.
Unable to help himself, Bruce peeks into the room, fighting the urge to lecture Danny. The reason for the lecture is that Danny is currently sitting in Wes's lap, his back to Wes' chest, and both are staring at the book "Useless Information" in Wes' hands.
Not dating his ass.
"So what you're saying is: Tango is gay," Danny affirms, cuddling into the blankets tucked around him, and leaning further into Wes. "The dance of our people."
Wes hums, "If only we could dance."
"Boys." He calls because he really wants to step between them, but Bruce is already doing that against his kids, and he is done being the civilian in Jason's novels. "Would either of you like to go to an opera tonight? I have some box seat tickets a close friend gave me, but I had other plans and didn't want them to go to waste."
Bruce didn't, but a little white lie wouldn't hurt anyone. He could easily buy them before the kids got to the opera house.
Wes's eyes practically sparkled. Bruce knew they would; he heard Wes play some songs from three famous operas the other day while Danny was showering. "Opera with box seats!? I love to go!"
Danny grimaces, clearly not that big of a fan. "Now look what you did, Master Bruce."
"Please, can we go, Danny?" Wes whines, "I'll let you haunt me if we go."
Danny cracks a smile, and Bruce is stunned by its softness. Had he not noticed how empty Danny's smiles have been until now? "Okay, Okay, we can go. But if I fall asleep you can't complain."
"How could anyone fall asleep at the Opra?"
"Easy. It's boring." Steph snips, leaning on the door frame. Bruce hadn't realized she was there. He frowned in her direction, not missing how Wes rolled his eyes.
"Hello, green-eyed monster. How are you this evening?" He said, making Steph eyes narrow. Danny was swinging his head between them, looking confused, but before he could ask, Wes continued, "Want to go with us? Danny needs more people to cuddle, and my visit has an expiration date."
Steph looks taken back, but her whole face breaks into the largest smile Bruce has ever seen on her face in a while when Danny nods, seemingly embarrassed. "It would be nice to have more cuddles. I, ugh, realized I was going too long without them."
Hmm, that's the fifth time the two have mentioned cuddling since yesterday. Bruce knows he ignored Wes's entrance when he got here yesterday, but maybe he should look into it.
If Alfred allowed, of course.
"I'll go get ready!" Steph shouts, racing down the hall. There is a brief pause before a loud "Hey, watch it!" and quick, distant "Sorry, Jason!"
His second oldest stridden into the room, grumbling at the giant front stain on his shirt. A half-empty cup in his hand lets Bruce know Steph bumped into him, making him spill his precious soda.
"Can't get any peace around here," Jason mumbles.
"I can clean that for you, Master Jason." Danny is quick to say, standing up from his seat. Wes lifts his arm to let Danny wiggle out of his grasp, but Jason only shakes his head.
"Nah, it's fine, kid." With one hand, Jason yanks the shirt over his head. Wes drops his book, and Danny's face goes very red. Bruce has a moment of utter horror, but Jason doesn't seem to notice, throwing the ruined shirt over his shoulder. "I was going to shower after some reading anyway. What are you crazy kids up to?"
"O-Oprea," Danny shutters, staring up at Jason with strange emotion in his eyes. Wes looks like a deer caught in headlights beside him.
Jason's face brightens. "No way! I love the opera."
"You do?" We gasped.
"Yeah, though, I'm more of a play guy myself. I love the theater. Once a drama kid always a drama kid." Jason winks and, oh no, Wes looks to be swooning. What's worse, Danny seems to be swooning too.
"Want to come with?" Wes blurts, and Jason considers the invitation carefully before shrugging.
"You know what? Yeah, I love to. Let me go take my shower then get ready. It's at what time?"
"Seven," Bruce answers, stepping in when both boys seem unable to get their tongues to work. Jason nods, and then a wicked smirk grows on his face.
Bruce is instantly weary.
"Let's make this a family event. You guys don't mind, right?" Jason turns back to the boys, shaking their heads like bobble figures.
"The more, the merrier, Master Jason."
"Perfect" Quick as a whip, Jason pulls out his phone and sends a quick message. He leaves the room, but not before calling over his shoulder "I'll meet you in the main doorway at six-thirty."
Bruce's phone buzzes. He pulls it out, reading the message: Hey losers, Danny wants to see the Oprea. The really romantic one. Do any of you want to join us?
He feels a headache coming on. Especially with Wes and Danny looking at each other with shocked open mouths, looking like they were wordlessly expressing how attractive they thought Jason was.
Tim comes sprinting down the hall. Bruce is unsure what he is doing, seeing as his hair is wrapped in a towel, but he is wearing half of a chicken costume as he runs by. "I want to go, I want to go, I want to go! Don't leave without me!"
Wes squints at the open door hallway before laughing that strange, impish laugh of his. "This place is a riot."
Danny pauses before that same soft smile blooms on his face, and Bruce's heart melts. "Yeah, I like Wayne Manor too."
Maybe Danny isn't as happy as before, but maybe one day he will be. Bruce would be content with that.
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okay so you know how it goes: fourteen comes to life in thirteen's clothes. and they're both too short and too loose and entirely too bright for his frame of mind. they worked with a doctor who hid everything behind a too wide smile; not so much with a doctor whose pain and tiredness is written across his face
he needs to change. obviously
and then the star beast starts, and fourteen leaves the tardis, and he's still in thirteen's clothes
he just. he doesn't know. how does he choose new clothes? he feels wrong. how will wearing something else change that?
(donna tells him that it's christmas, mate; it's bloody freezing. maybe wear longer trousers, yeah? also he's both too young and too old to wear braces. just a friendly note)
he doesn't have to explain who he is to the unit scientist, not with those clothes. instead he talks about how he doesn't understand why he looks like this. why he is this. why this face? why isn't he someone new?
actually. maybe he is someone new. was he ever this open before? hm
why do you look like that, sylvia hisses, trying to hide him from the daughter he destroyed ruined left
it's a lottery, he replies, purposely ignorant
he still has his thirteenth self's screwdriver. it's too small in his hands
(the whole time they were her, her hands were too small. she didn't like touching anyway, but whenever someone took her hand, it felt wrong. they were too small. sometimes it felt like if she worked fast enough, tinkered about without stopping, she wouldn't have to look at them)
everything goes wrong. his fault, like always
(blimey. of all the things to carry over from the first time he had this face, it had to be the guilt, didn't it?)
you shouldn't look like that, the doctordonna says, and he runs a hand down his face with a tired laugh
no, the doctordonna says, not the face. a hand reaches out to grasp at the collar of his shirt, at the dangling earring chain. this isn't you. who are you, doctor?
like he knows. like they've ever-
she dies.
she lives. he doesn't deserve it. it isn't about him. he still doesn't deserve it
we're letting it go, donna says, and he looks down at himself, at another him's clothes, another him's screwdriver
well, she never was subtle, his donna
the tardis is gorgeous, though when isn't she. he tries to show off his new console to donna, and she rolls her eyes, and drags him off to the wardrobe
unlike normally, where all the clothes are scattered about, the new tardis wardrobe now also has a line of wardrobes stood against the wall. fifteen of them, to be exact
the last wardrobe is open. and empty
he goes to the second to last, and opens it to reveal a wide array of rainbow patterned shirts. she probably would've hated for her things to be organised like this. always creating mess so she wouldn't have to think about anything important. he laughs. and he takes off the sky coloured coat and the worn boots and the earrings and gently places them inside. tag, he thinks, as he closes the doors
and then he moves down to the eleventh wardrobe, full of brown coats and blue suits and neatly pressed shirts and pairs of converse. and he stands in front of it. and he wonders
after a moment, donna's like wait do you want me to leave?? you never cared about nudity before, did you? and he's like oh actually i do feel more self conscious. huh. weird.
he doesn't have to say, i think i'm a different person. not to donna. she just gives him a smile, and a shoulder nudge, and tells him she'll see him in the console room
the last wardrobe is empty
he takes a breath, and then goes to rummage about in the rest of the clothes
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