Gotham Imagines and One Shots

Dear Miss Wayne - Part 2 - Alfred x Reader

(Y/n) smiled as she continued to listen to Alfred talk. It was the first time that she had really been able to smile since the funeral. The first time that she had wanted to smile since she had lost her brother and Martha. The butler, the only one that had ever made her smile like this. She always found his presence quite calming. The sound of his voice banishing all bad thoughts, and sad memories as he spoke. She hadn't let go of his hand since she had reached over and took it. Alfred's tight grip preventing her from moving it. But even if it hadn't, she wouldn't have wanted to release his hand anyway. In truth, it felt like home. It felt as though her hand belonged in his. As though it was the only place that it wanted to be.

(Y/n) couldn't help but blush as Alfred laughed out loud at something that she had just said. Admittedly, it may have had something to do with the two or three large glasses of Scotch that they had had, but it was nice to watch him really let down his guard fully. She could see that the tension that had been building up, had been finally lifted from his shoulders. And she had to admit that it made her happy. (Y/n) quite aware of how difficult it had been for Alfred, since the death of his employers and friends. How everything had changed. But here and now, it was like old times. It was as if they were back in the kitchen. A pot of good tea streaming away in front of her, as the smell of freshly baked scones that came from her favourite bakery in the city, drifted along in the warm kitchen air. Sweet strawberry jelly and fresh clotted cream being spooned into bowls before Alfred would join her. The two forgetting about the world. About their different lives and the expectations of others, as they just sat and talked.

(Y/n) had noticed that since Alfred had taken a seat, every time he had set his glass down on the table next to his chair, his hand would instinctively reach into his waistcoat pocket. His fingers brushing over something that was hidden inside. (Y/n) finding that her curiosity was getting the better of her as she saw what resembled a creased and torn piece of paper. She knew that she shouldn't enquire, it was after all Alfred's business, and he was a private man. Yet she had come to realise that she had seen him do the same thing whenever they were together. As if the ex-SAS man connected her with the small page of paper. And despite all her best efforts, she couldn't help but let the words spill out from her mouth.

"Alfred! Can I.......can I ask you something?" (Y/n) blurted out. An embarrassed flush heating her cheeks as Alfred looked at her.

"Of course, Miss........I mean, of course, (Y/n)." Alfred replied with a soft smile. (Y/n) sure that her heart had just melted.

"Well, I was.......I was just wondering about that piece of paper in your pocket. I've noticed that you've been playing with it since you sat down. That you seem to always reach for it when you sit with me. When we talk. I was just........"

"Its nothing, (Y/n). Really. It's silly really..........."

"I have found that nothing you do is, what I would call, silly, Alfred. You aren't that kind of man. And for someone that used to do what you did, you are a terrible liar, Alfred Pennyworth. I don't mean to pry; you know I don't. It's just.........well, I've realised that you do the same thing whenever we spend time together. Even before..........I mean, even when we would sit in the kitchen together, your hand would always reach for that same pocket. I just thought that........that it, and I, might be connected. I'm sorry Alfred. I shouldn't have asked. Please, forget I ever said anything." (Y/n) explained apologetically. Pulling her hand away from Alfred's as she turned her gaze to the large, ornate clock that sat on the mantle above the fireplace.

"My, look at the time. I should let you get to bed. I am more than sure that our dear Bruce will get you up nice and early for his breakfast." (Y/n) began, as she got to her feet. Doing her best to avoid Alfred's stare. The younger Wayne having a terrible feeling that if she stayed any longer, the effects of the alcohol may loosen her tongue just enough for her to tell her nephew's guardian, just how she felt for him. (Y/n) not sure that this was the best time to profess her love for the old soldier.