DC/Justice League Oneshots

Clean

Written by @Bekkoni. Plot minorly  changed.

Bruce tossed the covers off the bed, slipped on a pair of loafers, and headed downstairs for breakfast. Or lunch, depending on how you looked at it.

It was one in the afternoon. He'd gotten home at six, just in the nick of time even with the late winter sunrise. The fresh bruises on his back were beginning to get sore, and he grabbed two aspirin from the medicine cabinet, to have with tea.

He walked into the kitchen smelling chocolate cake. Alfred was whistling along to the radio, and Bruce could also hear the sound of chopping vegetables.

Bruce swung open the kitchen door and froze.

"Hey Bats!" Wally trilled. He was sitting gleefully at the counter, chocolate smudged at both corners of his mouth. Somehow he managed to talk and shove a piece of cake into his mouth simultaneously.

Bruce stared.

Wally opened his mouth again, with the cake half-chewed. "A t-shirt and boxers as pajamas? Isn't that a little cliché?"

"What are you doing here?" Bruce snapped, after he'd scooted behind the island.

"Eating cake," Wally said, and elegantly carved off another bite, as if to illustrate the point.

"ALFRED!"

Alfred appeared from the pantry. "You bellowed, Master Bruce?"

Bruce pointed at Wally, who grinned.

"Well, sir, I wasn't expecting you up for another hour," Alfred measured out a cup of flour and dumped into the mixing bowl. "Master Wally would have been gone if you had."

"What's he here for, Alfred?" Bruce glared at Wally, who merely dug back into his slice. He saw the cake sitting on a glass dish on the other counter, but there was no way he could get to it without exposing for the second time that he wasn't wearing pants.

"As you can see sir, he's having a slice of cake," Alfred added a handful of carrots to a copper soup pot and turned the burner on high.

Bruce sighed. "I can see that."

"If you would like a slice you are free to get it sir," Alfred said over his shoulder. "As you can see, I am rather covered in olive oil and vegetables."

"I'm in my pajamas, Alfred," Bruce said. Wally giggled from the table. For someone who could knock out twenty sandwiches in a couple of seconds, he sure was taking his time with that cake.

"That is quite the paradox, isn't it?" Alfred demurred.

"It's alright, Bats," Wally's mouth was full of cake. "There was that time when you and Supes got caught in that fire and you didn't have your suit all fireproofed yet and-."

"You say one more word and I will tear your larynx out," Bruce nearly leapt across the island. "I told you and Clark you were never, ever to mention that again."

"What's this now?" Alfred asked.

"Nothing." Bruce said.

Wally smiled. "Supes and Bats got caught in this huge inferno and Bat's suit got all burnt up. Supes lent him his cape, though."

"Wallace. Rudolph. West." Bruce snarled. "You are a dead man."

Alfred chuckled. "I would have liked to have been privy to that."

Bruce put his head down on the island.

Wally grinned. "It was hilarious. " Suddenly, he looked at Bruce, "Supes was right! Your ears do turn red when you blush!"

Bruce groaned, "Good god, Alfred, please get rid of him."

Wally pointed to his plate. "Not done yet."

"It takes you THIRTY SECONDS to eat sixteen sandwiches! What in the world is the holdup for ONE piece of cake!" Bruce nearly leapt across the kitchen at Wally.

"It's really good cake," Wally shaved off another hair-thin piece. Bruce felt his blood pressure rising.

"Alfred, please," he begged.

The butler shrugged. "I had to recompense Master Wally for services rendered, sir. It is part of our agreement, you know."

Bruce suddenly had the feeling that he should never have gotten out of bed. "Pray tell, what agreement?"

Alfred looked utterly puzzled. "Well, surely, Master Wayne, you don't think I clean the entire manor by myself?"

"What?"

"Master Wally comes over every other Thursday and does the vacuuming, dusting, and polishing," Alfred patiently explained. "And in return, I bake. Master Dick and Master Barry used to have quite lengthy conversations over breakfast."

"You hired Barry?" Bruce asked.

Alfred stirred his soup. "And Master Jay before him, sir. It appears my desserts have gained quite a following among the underwear-on-the-outside community."

Bruce blinked, and stared at Wally. "You've been in my house?"

"You should really start making your own bed, Bats," Wally was down to the last fourth of the cake. "I was doing it by the time I was ten."

"You've been in my BEDROOM?" Bruce shouted. Alfred looked at him like this was of no particular consequence. Wally merely shrugged.

Bruce gave up, took a clean plate out of the cupboard and sliced himself a very thick piece of cake. Then he retreated to his bedroom and double bolted the doors.

Maybe if he tried hard enough he could erase this morning. Or ask J'onn to do it.

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