FIC: House Guests
TITLE: "House Guests" (1/1)
AUTHOR: MistressMarilyn
DATE: February 28, 2009
FANDOM: The Dark Knight (Nolanverse)
PAIRING: Alfred/Lucius (Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'em. They're characters belonging to DC Comics, Christopher Nolan and Warner Brothers, not to mention the respective actors of the movie, and to the ages. This is a work of a fan, done for no remuneration save the satisfaction of the work.
WARNINGS/RATING: PG, I guess
SUMMARY: Set between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight when Bruce and Alfred are forced to bunk with Lucius while they look for new digs, inspired by a column in The Gotham Times by the snarky Constance B. Mooreston under the headline 'The Awful Truth' which can be found here.
NOTES: Written for the gd_alfredlucius Valentine's Exchange for teithiwr, who requested something with tea and warm, woolen scarves, and a bit of humor, perhaps.
WORD COUNT: 1739
"Fish and house guests stink in three days." --Poor Richard's Almanac
It was Alfred's custom to be up early, to enjoy his first cup of tea while his charge was still sleeping off a night of prowling the mean streets of Gotham City. Now he stood in the compact kitchen of their host, Lucius Fox, steeping a cup of coppery autumnal brew at the counter next to the window, while he watched for the reluctant sun to come up.
"That smells damn good," Lucius said from close behind him. Alfred stood still, allowing the warm, spicy smell of Lucius Fox to complement the Indian blend, enjoying the sensation of the tall form just brushing the back of his sweater, content to linger there and let the leaves work for a few seconds too long.
"Shall I make another cup?" he asked, not turning around.
"Please."
Lucius moved away and Alfred inwardly sighed, but he busied himself by dropping a bit of milk in his own cup before walking over to the stove and turning up the heat under the small pot; he sipped at his tea as he hovered over the teapot, carefully guarding the water so it didn't come to a full boil and ultimately flatten the taste.
Alfred worked deftly, not sure if Lucius were watching, enjoying the ritual of brewing a perfect cup of tea. When he was finished steeping the leaves, he handed Lucius a fragrant gift.
"Mmm. That is fine, my friend," Lucius said after taking a drink. "Is Mr. Wayne still asleep?"
"Just."
Lucius nodded. "Of course. No doubt he had a long night."
"A cold one. I could hear his teeth chattering when he came in."
"Hopefully he was unhurt."
Alfred paused, remembering what had finally led his young master and himself to take refuge in the small, private home of the new Chief Operating Officer of Wayne Industries. It had gotten harder and harder to explain the appalling condition of the Wayne scion as he returned night after night -- actually morning after morning -- to his temporary lodgings in the luxurious rooms of some of the city's best hotels after hours spent stalking and sometimes brawling with Gotham's bad guys, staggering to the service elevator, occasionally leaving a trail of blood behind. The homeless pair needed a safer place for Wayne to lick his wounds and Alfred to treat them, so they turned to Fox.
That first night the tall engineer had been forced to help Alfred carry Bruce Wayne into his spare bedroom, to lie him down on top of the coverlet and stand side-by-side with the more experienced manservant as they carefully undressed the unconscious young billionaire; an observer might have inferred Wayne had passed out from too much partying if the limp form hadn't been clad in black rubber and a bat mask.
"The penthouse will be ready for us within the week," Alfred reported, picking up a plate of scones and following Lucius into the tiny breakfast room, forcing the familiar picture of the wide, warm Wayne Manor kitchen out of his mind. "The renovations are nearly complete, including all those digital technologies you had installed. And since Master Wayne prefers a very . . . sparse . . . style of decorating, there isn't much left to be done." The spacious expanse at the Gotham Towers would serve as Bruce Wayne's new home while his family estate, the mansion located at the highest point in the Palisades, was being rebuilt, brick by brick.
"You've been no bother at all, despite what the Gotham Times might imply," Lucius said, sitting down slowly, crossing his legs and then fiddling with his teacup. "In fact, it's been a pleasure having you here." He was dressed in loafers, soft slacks and a dark sweater, not his weekday business suit, but he looked immaculate, nonetheless, a man with a comfortable sense of his own style.
Alfred realized with some surprise that he was spending an unexpected amount of time admiring Lucius Fox, a man he had known for decades. "With those long days you're putting in at the Tower," he said to Lucius with a near-wink, "and Master Wayne asleep all day and gone most nights, I imagine you barely noticed we were here at all."
Lucius' expressive face broke into a smile. "You're teasing me now, Alfred. Have I been such an inattentive host?"
"Of course not, Lucius. I suppose I was. Teasing, I mean."
They stared at one another for a few silent moments, while gray light started seeping through the blinds.
"I'm free today," Lucius announced. "Do you have plans?"
Alfred hesitated, taking a small bite off the corner of a flaky scone. "I have several calls to make, actually. There's an antique dealer near Harlow Park who has a few items I want to look at. Finding a replacement for Dr. Wayne's bed has been my biggest challenge."
"From what I hear, you've done a wonderful job with the house," Lucius said, his long, dark fingers brushing the back of Alfred's hand as he reached for a scone.
"Master Bruce is adamant about the bed. And I feel the same actually. You know that bed and I joined the Wayne household at the same time."
Lucius' eyebrows raised in question.
"After Dr. Wayne finished medical school, he came to England on holiday. His father had just passed, and young Thomas wanted to make the Manor more his own, since he planned to live there while he served his residency at Gotham General. He was shopping at Heal & Son on Tottenham Court Road in London, a wonderful place to find furniture and such. And he found both the bed and yours truly there."
Alfred took another bite and washed it down with the last of his tea, while Lucius leaned in to hear more of the story.
"I was shopping for my new master," Alfred continued, "a young playwright who had found some recent success and so wanted to outfit his flat with better furniture and an English butler." He paused, thinking back. "I hadn't really matured into that role, since he'd taken me right off the stage."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes," Alfred said with a smile. "I had a short and far from illustrious career in the theatre."
"I'm surprised I never knew any of this."
Standing and leaning across Lucius, Alfred adjusted the blinds to let a little more weak winter light into the room. "It is interesting how little we tend to learn about one another, isn't it?" he said, reaching for his cup. "Shall I make some more tea?"
"Yes. Please."
Lucius smiled on as Alfred stood over the stove like a wizened wizard, performing alchemy with water and tea leaves. Alfred emptied his little tin, using up the last of his special imported stash. "I shall have to go shopping for tea today," he said, passing Lucius a steaming cup.
"And a bed," Lucius reminded him.
"Yes, that, too," Alfred said, nodding. "Milk?"
Lucius shook his head. "Why did you come to America with Thomas Wayne?"
"Oh, I liked him immediately. He was so fresh and unspoiled, especially for a man with such wealth. And I really didn't care much for the bloody playwright. Plus, I wanted to see America and have a few more adventures before I settled down, and it was a chance to make the trip . . . free of charge, shall we say?"
Leaning against the door sill, Lucius looked thoughtful. "What a wonderful find he made," he said. "Look what you've meant to the Waynes."
"Oh, I was the fortunate one," Alfred said with some vehemence. "I got a bit more adventure than I had expected, didn't I?"
Again the two men looked at one another in silence, this time with crinkled eyes, shining with a delightful, shared secret.
"You always made me feel so comfortable at Wayne Manor," Lucius said, "even when I wasn't exactly sure if I belonged. Mrs. Wayne was . . . not as welcoming."
Nodding almost imperceptibly, Alfred declined to comment on Lucius' last remark. "I believe Dr. Wayne would be very pleased to see you at the helm of his family's company," he said instead. "He fought to put you on the board."
"Thirty years ago there were very few black men in the boardroom," said a suddenly restrained Lucius. "And I didn't last long there after Dr. Wayne was gone."
"I wish I could have been more help."
"There was nothing you could do, my friend. And anyway, it gave me more time to work on my special projects in peace. And they have come in handy, haven't they?"
Alfred nodded, thinking of how many of Lucius Fox' expensive gadgets had been turned into Newton-defying miracles for his master. As far as he could see, the depths of the amazing mind of the tall black man could not be measured in mere fathoms. Now Lucius was proving his business acumen to be as acute as his scientific sagacity.
Finishing his tea and turning to rinse out his cup, Alfred reflected that there was nothing quite as alluring as a supple, voluptuous brain. His hand trembled a tiny bit as he reached for the towel.
"Would you mind some company today, Alfred?" The deep, mellow voice spoke directly into Alfred's right ear, and the dignified butler nearly jumped in surprise. The sound of the running water had evidently muffled Lucius' soft footsteps.
"I would . . . appreciate it," Alfred answered, finding his voice.
"We can use that new driver Mr. Wayne assigned to me," Lucius said, leading Alfred slowly out of the kitchen. "I'd enjoy the chance to relax with you in the back of that ridiculously long limo."
As they wrapped themselves up against the bitter Gotham winter, donning heavy coats, covering their hands with lined, leather gloves and winding long, woolen scarves around their exposed throats, they paused long enough to look at one another pointedly, this time breaking out in laughter.
"We're going to be far too warm in the back of that limousine," Alfred predicted.
Lucius' long arm stole around Alfred's back, and he placed a gloved hand on the butler's solid shoulder. "I certainly hope so," he said with an expansive smile. "Just as I hope you'll come and be my house guest again, Alfred."
This time it was Lucius Fox' turn to wink. "But when you do, you can leave Mr. Wayne at home."
AUTHOR: MistressMarilyn
DATE: February 28, 2009
FANDOM: The Dark Knight (Nolanverse)
PAIRING: Alfred/Lucius (Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'em. They're characters belonging to DC Comics, Christopher Nolan and Warner Brothers, not to mention the respective actors of the movie, and to the ages. This is a work of a fan, done for no remuneration save the satisfaction of the work.
WARNINGS/RATING: PG, I guess
SUMMARY: Set between Batman Begins and The Dark Knight when Bruce and Alfred are forced to bunk with Lucius while they look for new digs, inspired by a column in The Gotham Times by the snarky Constance B. Mooreston under the headline 'The Awful Truth' which can be found here.
NOTES: Written for the gd_alfredlucius Valentine's Exchange for teithiwr, who requested something with tea and warm, woolen scarves, and a bit of humor, perhaps.
WORD COUNT: 1739
"Fish and house guests stink in three days." --Poor Richard's Almanac
It was Alfred's custom to be up early, to enjoy his first cup of tea while his charge was still sleeping off a night of prowling the mean streets of Gotham City. Now he stood in the compact kitchen of their host, Lucius Fox, steeping a cup of coppery autumnal brew at the counter next to the window, while he watched for the reluctant sun to come up.
"That smells damn good," Lucius said from close behind him. Alfred stood still, allowing the warm, spicy smell of Lucius Fox to complement the Indian blend, enjoying the sensation of the tall form just brushing the back of his sweater, content to linger there and let the leaves work for a few seconds too long.
"Shall I make another cup?" he asked, not turning around.
"Please."
Lucius moved away and Alfred inwardly sighed, but he busied himself by dropping a bit of milk in his own cup before walking over to the stove and turning up the heat under the small pot; he sipped at his tea as he hovered over the teapot, carefully guarding the water so it didn't come to a full boil and ultimately flatten the taste.
Alfred worked deftly, not sure if Lucius were watching, enjoying the ritual of brewing a perfect cup of tea. When he was finished steeping the leaves, he handed Lucius a fragrant gift.
"Mmm. That is fine, my friend," Lucius said after taking a drink. "Is Mr. Wayne still asleep?"
"Just."
Lucius nodded. "Of course. No doubt he had a long night."
"A cold one. I could hear his teeth chattering when he came in."
"Hopefully he was unhurt."
Alfred paused, remembering what had finally led his young master and himself to take refuge in the small, private home of the new Chief Operating Officer of Wayne Industries. It had gotten harder and harder to explain the appalling condition of the Wayne scion as he returned night after night -- actually morning after morning -- to his temporary lodgings in the luxurious rooms of some of the city's best hotels after hours spent stalking and sometimes brawling with Gotham's bad guys, staggering to the service elevator, occasionally leaving a trail of blood behind. The homeless pair needed a safer place for Wayne to lick his wounds and Alfred to treat them, so they turned to Fox.
That first night the tall engineer had been forced to help Alfred carry Bruce Wayne into his spare bedroom, to lie him down on top of the coverlet and stand side-by-side with the more experienced manservant as they carefully undressed the unconscious young billionaire; an observer might have inferred Wayne had passed out from too much partying if the limp form hadn't been clad in black rubber and a bat mask.
"The penthouse will be ready for us within the week," Alfred reported, picking up a plate of scones and following Lucius into the tiny breakfast room, forcing the familiar picture of the wide, warm Wayne Manor kitchen out of his mind. "The renovations are nearly complete, including all those digital technologies you had installed. And since Master Wayne prefers a very . . . sparse . . . style of decorating, there isn't much left to be done." The spacious expanse at the Gotham Towers would serve as Bruce Wayne's new home while his family estate, the mansion located at the highest point in the Palisades, was being rebuilt, brick by brick.
"You've been no bother at all, despite what the Gotham Times might imply," Lucius said, sitting down slowly, crossing his legs and then fiddling with his teacup. "In fact, it's been a pleasure having you here." He was dressed in loafers, soft slacks and a dark sweater, not his weekday business suit, but he looked immaculate, nonetheless, a man with a comfortable sense of his own style.
Alfred realized with some surprise that he was spending an unexpected amount of time admiring Lucius Fox, a man he had known for decades. "With those long days you're putting in at the Tower," he said to Lucius with a near-wink, "and Master Wayne asleep all day and gone most nights, I imagine you barely noticed we were here at all."
Lucius' expressive face broke into a smile. "You're teasing me now, Alfred. Have I been such an inattentive host?"
"Of course not, Lucius. I suppose I was. Teasing, I mean."
They stared at one another for a few silent moments, while gray light started seeping through the blinds.
"I'm free today," Lucius announced. "Do you have plans?"
Alfred hesitated, taking a small bite off the corner of a flaky scone. "I have several calls to make, actually. There's an antique dealer near Harlow Park who has a few items I want to look at. Finding a replacement for Dr. Wayne's bed has been my biggest challenge."
"From what I hear, you've done a wonderful job with the house," Lucius said, his long, dark fingers brushing the back of Alfred's hand as he reached for a scone.
"Master Bruce is adamant about the bed. And I feel the same actually. You know that bed and I joined the Wayne household at the same time."
Lucius' eyebrows raised in question.
"After Dr. Wayne finished medical school, he came to England on holiday. His father had just passed, and young Thomas wanted to make the Manor more his own, since he planned to live there while he served his residency at Gotham General. He was shopping at Heal & Son on Tottenham Court Road in London, a wonderful place to find furniture and such. And he found both the bed and yours truly there."
Alfred took another bite and washed it down with the last of his tea, while Lucius leaned in to hear more of the story.
"I was shopping for my new master," Alfred continued, "a young playwright who had found some recent success and so wanted to outfit his flat with better furniture and an English butler." He paused, thinking back. "I hadn't really matured into that role, since he'd taken me right off the stage."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes," Alfred said with a smile. "I had a short and far from illustrious career in the theatre."
"I'm surprised I never knew any of this."
Standing and leaning across Lucius, Alfred adjusted the blinds to let a little more weak winter light into the room. "It is interesting how little we tend to learn about one another, isn't it?" he said, reaching for his cup. "Shall I make some more tea?"
"Yes. Please."
Lucius smiled on as Alfred stood over the stove like a wizened wizard, performing alchemy with water and tea leaves. Alfred emptied his little tin, using up the last of his special imported stash. "I shall have to go shopping for tea today," he said, passing Lucius a steaming cup.
"And a bed," Lucius reminded him.
"Yes, that, too," Alfred said, nodding. "Milk?"
Lucius shook his head. "Why did you come to America with Thomas Wayne?"
"Oh, I liked him immediately. He was so fresh and unspoiled, especially for a man with such wealth. And I really didn't care much for the bloody playwright. Plus, I wanted to see America and have a few more adventures before I settled down, and it was a chance to make the trip . . . free of charge, shall we say?"
Leaning against the door sill, Lucius looked thoughtful. "What a wonderful find he made," he said. "Look what you've meant to the Waynes."
"Oh, I was the fortunate one," Alfred said with some vehemence. "I got a bit more adventure than I had expected, didn't I?"
Again the two men looked at one another in silence, this time with crinkled eyes, shining with a delightful, shared secret.
"You always made me feel so comfortable at Wayne Manor," Lucius said, "even when I wasn't exactly sure if I belonged. Mrs. Wayne was . . . not as welcoming."
Nodding almost imperceptibly, Alfred declined to comment on Lucius' last remark. "I believe Dr. Wayne would be very pleased to see you at the helm of his family's company," he said instead. "He fought to put you on the board."
"Thirty years ago there were very few black men in the boardroom," said a suddenly restrained Lucius. "And I didn't last long there after Dr. Wayne was gone."
"I wish I could have been more help."
"There was nothing you could do, my friend. And anyway, it gave me more time to work on my special projects in peace. And they have come in handy, haven't they?"
Alfred nodded, thinking of how many of Lucius Fox' expensive gadgets had been turned into Newton-defying miracles for his master. As far as he could see, the depths of the amazing mind of the tall black man could not be measured in mere fathoms. Now Lucius was proving his business acumen to be as acute as his scientific sagacity.
Finishing his tea and turning to rinse out his cup, Alfred reflected that there was nothing quite as alluring as a supple, voluptuous brain. His hand trembled a tiny bit as he reached for the towel.
"Would you mind some company today, Alfred?" The deep, mellow voice spoke directly into Alfred's right ear, and the dignified butler nearly jumped in surprise. The sound of the running water had evidently muffled Lucius' soft footsteps.
"I would . . . appreciate it," Alfred answered, finding his voice.
"We can use that new driver Mr. Wayne assigned to me," Lucius said, leading Alfred slowly out of the kitchen. "I'd enjoy the chance to relax with you in the back of that ridiculously long limo."
As they wrapped themselves up against the bitter Gotham winter, donning heavy coats, covering their hands with lined, leather gloves and winding long, woolen scarves around their exposed throats, they paused long enough to look at one another pointedly, this time breaking out in laughter.
"We're going to be far too warm in the back of that limousine," Alfred predicted.
Lucius' long arm stole around Alfred's back, and he placed a gloved hand on the butler's solid shoulder. "I certainly hope so," he said with an expansive smile. "Just as I hope you'll come and be my house guest again, Alfred."
This time it was Lucius Fox' turn to wink. "But when you do, you can leave Mr. Wayne at home."