I Bet On Losing Dogs

Master of None

You give in and turn your phone on the following day. Your phone freezes as you unlock it from the notifications. You've never had it so busy before. There are multiple calls from your parents, your siblings, and friends. It completely slips your mind that they would try to call the Gotham police for a missing person alert, but you see from the flashes of messages from your older sister that the police won't take it because they know where you are, and you are safe, but won't tell them more. On top of the texts and calls from family, there are unknown calls that you see from your voicemail before it reached its capacity are from the press. You also have multiple DMs and comments on your social media accounts. You let your phone sit on your bed, waiting for it to catch up and end as you get ready for the day, taking a quick shower.

Your clothing options seem so small as you pick a baby blue tee-shirt and dark jeans. As you brush your hair, you tap the screen seeing your phone more responsive, slowing down. You put it in your pocket, resuming putting your hair in a low ponytail. You aren't sure how mornings are supposed to work as you go downstairs. You don't see Alfred or Bruce.

With caution, you go to the kitchen. Chef Jacques finished eating some sort of pastry with syrup and got up to put it in the sink. "Oh, Ms. (L/N). I didn't know you were awake." "It's okay. I don't know how mornings work." He gives you an understanding grin. "Mr. Pennyworth usually sets the menu according to Mr. Wayne's diet. Today was oatmeal and berries. He's on an oat phase for some reason. I meant to ask you what you liked so I can add it." You make a small face, unsure what you want. "I usually just take coffee, maybe cereal or toast if I have time before I leave for work."

He frowns, shaking his head. "You need to eat. Make time to eat." You appreciate his worry as you try to think of something. "How about I surprise you? With you here, I can use you as my guinea pig." You accept and wander out of the kitchen to let him get to work.

You hear upstairs above the parlor, which you guess is Bruce's room. Then something scrapes across the floor, and he yells. You don't know what he said, but there are more footsteps. You guess Alfred is up there, too, since you haven't seen him still. The scraping resumes and then quiet. You pull out your phone and finally check your messages. You text your family group chat that you are safe, but you don't think you can share where you are if that's what the police says. You don't mention Batman's warning since you're already breaking the rules.

Your social media notifications are picture tags from the Gala with comments on your dress, body, face, how you got there. Fortunately, there aren't that many negative comments about your appearance. The ones that exist are shut down by strangers who tell them to fuck off if you're Bruce Wayne's girlfriend. Of course, the other negative comments are about your relationship, but they've died down due to whatever Batman and Harvey are planning.

Your family texts you quickly. Your older sister: "That's a load of *poop emoji*! Let us know where u r ASAP!" Mom: "Please (Y/N). We have been worried sick! We're trying to figure out how to get to you."

You hesitate in responding. As you start to type, Bruce and Alfred storm down the stairs. They don't notice you as they hurry to the study. You want to follow, but you've never seen him this intense. You slowly follow them anyway, but they're gone. Hidden doors. You thought those only existed in movies. You decide to leave it alone, hearing Chef Jacques call you in the dinette.

"They're working." He says, noticing the direction you come from. "I don't get paid to be nosy, so I just stay in my apartment and cook when I'm needed. His father, Mr. Thomas Wayne, was so nice to me. I was a Michelin Star Chef. But working for him made me feel special. I'm glad Alfred kept me around. I miss the parties, though." He says as he shows you the most artistic strawberry crepes. "It looks so good." You speak with a grateful grin. His cooking is a nice distraction from whatever Bruce and Alfred are working on.