Cracky meme entry...
As part of THIS meme a few weeks ago, I give you a bit of cracktastic time-wasting that I wrote for saniika (this originally appeared in a comment on her blog). Apologies to Batman fans everywhere...
The Batmobile roared to a halt in the center of the Batcave, but without its usual flair. Alfred waited patiently from the comm center above for the driver to quiet the engine, exit and give him a rundown of expected tasks in wake of his evening's adventures.
He waited, and waited some more. Alfred was an endlessly patient man but after a few minutes he began to worry. The Batmobile had an autopilot program. Was Bruce even inside?
He wandered down the industrial staircase to the main floor, fished out his spare key fob and pressed the remote security release for the car. The tinted case casement slid back with a hydraulic hiss and revealed his Master, a.k.a. Batman, unconscious and bloodied in the driver's seat.
"Oh, sir..." Alfred murmured.
He took a moment to acknowledge that after years of caring for a danger-seeking teenager and then a masked vigilante, he had been greeted like this more nights than not. The expected shot of panic and mortal fear for his charge had worn off long ago. Now, he just calculated whether he should stitch him up here, or inside the mansion, and how long it would take to wash the blood off the upholstery.
Batman stirred and flicked his eyes open to see Alfred's tired frown.
"Sorry, Alfred." He Bat-growled. "I got blood on the leather again."
"You know, I'm far too old to put up with this sort of nonsense night after night, sir." He leaned into the car, wrapped his master's arm around his shoulder and helped him limp over the casement. "Did any of the miscreants miss you this evening? You look like a sieve..."
"Less condemnation, more T.L.C., Alfred. Please." he rasped.
Alfred couldn't resist when he requested something that he thought might be denied. Very little was denied to Bruce Wayne in general.
"Yes, sir." Alfred whispered, a little embarrassed by how easily he gave in to the younger man's request and the rush it gave him to be useful in his life.
Beside him, the masked vigilante limped and coughed.
"Alfred?"
"Yes, sir?"
"What would I do without you?" He had stopped and his bloody face smiled widely at the butler holding him up.
"Probably contract a blood infection and die a slow, painful death, I'd imagine." He said without hesitation.
Batman's smile widened, then he held the butler's chin between two bloodied fingers and kissed him. Like so many nights before, the younger man lingered; suspended in the moment. Alfred flushed again as their lips parted and he heard the vigilante chuckle.
"Death - yes - I'd probably die without you." He said it with a smile in his voice, but the butler knew when his master was trying to deflect a deeper emotion. Alfred broke into a sly smile himself and started them forward again.
"Come on, Bruce, let's get you to bed..."
The Batmobile roared to a halt in the center of the Batcave, but without its usual flair. Alfred waited patiently from the comm center above for the driver to quiet the engine, exit and give him a rundown of expected tasks in wake of his evening's adventures.
He waited, and waited some more. Alfred was an endlessly patient man but after a few minutes he began to worry. The Batmobile had an autopilot program. Was Bruce even inside?
He wandered down the industrial staircase to the main floor, fished out his spare key fob and pressed the remote security release for the car. The tinted case casement slid back with a hydraulic hiss and revealed his Master, a.k.a. Batman, unconscious and bloodied in the driver's seat.
"Oh, sir..." Alfred murmured.
He took a moment to acknowledge that after years of caring for a danger-seeking teenager and then a masked vigilante, he had been greeted like this more nights than not. The expected shot of panic and mortal fear for his charge had worn off long ago. Now, he just calculated whether he should stitch him up here, or inside the mansion, and how long it would take to wash the blood off the upholstery.
Batman stirred and flicked his eyes open to see Alfred's tired frown.
"Sorry, Alfred." He Bat-growled. "I got blood on the leather again."
"You know, I'm far too old to put up with this sort of nonsense night after night, sir." He leaned into the car, wrapped his master's arm around his shoulder and helped him limp over the casement. "Did any of the miscreants miss you this evening? You look like a sieve..."
"Less condemnation, more T.L.C., Alfred. Please." he rasped.
Alfred couldn't resist when he requested something that he thought might be denied. Very little was denied to Bruce Wayne in general.
"Yes, sir." Alfred whispered, a little embarrassed by how easily he gave in to the younger man's request and the rush it gave him to be useful in his life.
Beside him, the masked vigilante limped and coughed.
"Alfred?"
"Yes, sir?"
"What would I do without you?" He had stopped and his bloody face smiled widely at the butler holding him up.
"Probably contract a blood infection and die a slow, painful death, I'd imagine." He said without hesitation.
Batman's smile widened, then he held the butler's chin between two bloodied fingers and kissed him. Like so many nights before, the younger man lingered; suspended in the moment. Alfred flushed again as their lips parted and he heard the vigilante chuckle.
"Death - yes - I'd probably die without you." He said it with a smile in his voice, but the butler knew when his master was trying to deflect a deeper emotion. Alfred broke into a sly smile himself and started them forward again.
"Come on, Bruce, let's get you to bed..."