The Boy king and The Dark Knights

XXII

ALFRED PENNYWORTH was a very well put together  man, if he did say so himself.

He wasn’t perfect in the slightest, he had too much blood on his hands and too heavy a conscious to even come close to being perfect.

But compared to the insanity of the Wayne family, Alfred practically looked like a saint.

Coping methods that weren’t fighting criminals in dark alleys did wonders for a person.

But since Alfred held the title of most mentally stable in the family, his son and grandchildren often came to him for advice, calling the home phone as while Alfred did have a cell phone, he very rarely carried it around with him.

The only problem with calling the home phone was that sometimes it wasn’t Alfred who answered.

It was about three in the morning when Alfred walked down the stairs, listening to Richards cheery voice hold a one sided conversation as he sat in the chair by their home phone, twisting the cord between his fingers like a teenage girl.

“Oh come on little wing, I’m great at advice!” Richard said, before pausing for a moment, listening to the person on the other end of the line, who Alfred now knew was Jason. “Ok I’m not great at following my own advice but it’s not like hypocrisy is a new thing for this family.”

“Master Jason is calling?” Alfred prompted, watching as Richard turned to him, a natural smile on his face.

“Oh yeah, it’s for you!” Richard said as took the phone away from his ear and pressed the speaker button before offering to Alfred, lifting a finger to his lips which were curled into a mischievous smirk.

Alfred took the phone with a small sigh, before lifting it towards his head. “Master Jason, Master Richard is still listening in. Are you alright with him hearing this conversation?” Alfred asked, ignoring Richards pout.

Alfred heard Jason’s exasperated sigh through the receiver. “Yeah sure, he’ll probably hear about it later anyways.” His voice was tired, and a bit hoarse and Alfred felt a twinge of concern for his grandson.

“I’ve got good news and bad news.” Jason continued speaking. “The good news is that Danny called me dad earlier tonight.”

Richard gasped at this, a look of pure joy lighting up his face. It had taken both Richard and Jason at least a year in the Wayne manor before they felt comfortable enough to call Bruce dad, and even then it was rare for them when they were young.

Now Richard only called him that on very rare occasions, and the only time Jason had called him that since his death he had been shaking and crying after a particularly potent dose of fear gas. He still referred to Bruce as his father, but to his face it was B when he was feeling civil, and a rotating string of expletives and titles that would make a sailor blush when he wasn’t.