Wallace's Eyes

Hearth and Home

Rated: PG

Pairing: Bruce/Clark

Warning: Slash.

Summary: Clark’s belonging start appearing in the Manor. Alfred muses.

Master Bruce had been seeing Superman for two months before it started happening.

At first, it was just a toothbrush. The first time Alfred had found the extra toothbrush – a nondescript blue one that was in every way opposite Master Bruce’s fancy electronic toothbrush – he had been confused as to what it was doing in the Manor, much less the master bathroom. When he realized who it belonged to, a smile had risen upon his face.

It was long overdue that his charge had found someone with whom to share his days, and long, long overdue that he and Superman had finally come out into the open about their obvious feelings for each other. Alfred approved entirely, of course – and much more so than he had of any of Master Bruce’s other pursuits. It was undeniable that the man was attracted to dangerous people: Andrea Beaumont, Harvey Dent, Catwoman, Talia al Ghul, to name a few. But Superman was the best of both worlds – he was the most powerful and dangerous man on the planet, but he was also arguably the least selfish. Alfred knew with absolute certainty that Superman would never hurt Master Bruce, for his own gain or otherwise. Besides, he had impressed Alfred with his impeccable manners and charmed him with his open, honest friendliness since day one.

“If Bruce trusts you with his secret and his life, then so do I,” the Metropolis superhero had declared at their first meeting just before spinning into Clark Kent’s guise.

The second sign was a pair of pajamas. Alfred couldn’t imagine why Superman – Master Clark – even bothered, since he always ended up naked and spooning Master Bruce by the time Alfred brought them breakfast in the morning anyway. But Alfred always picked the abandoned articles of clothing up off the ground, washed them, and left them folded neatly on the arm of the oversized chair in the master bedroom.

When Alfred found two wrinkled suits hanging in the closet, next to Master Bruce’s numerous and very expensive tuxedos, he tsk’ed in disapproval and ironed them with the same care that he bestowed on Master Bruce’s clothes. Later, Master Clark approached him and awkwardly thanked him for the kind gesture before requesting that Alfred avoid neatening his civilian clothes, since it was a necessary part of his disguise. Of course, Alfred agreed, but he later shook his head in dismay. What was the world coming to if a handsome young chap like Master Clark had to pretend to be inept and messy in order to protect the people around him? But Alfred tried his best to resist fixing Clark Kent’s cheap wardrobe, thinking of it as another costume that Superman had to don. After all, Alfred was no stranger to disguises, having come up with countless ones for Batman over the years.

But soon enough, bits and pieces of Master Clark’s life began making their way into the Manor. A mug emblazoned with an artist’s rendition of Smallville. A throw knitted by his mother. Spare notebooks and pens that didn’t feature the Wayne crest. Books that didn’t belong in the Manor library. Two wooden picture frames, one featuring a photograph of Master Clark with his parents and one of Master Clark and his colleagues at the Metropolis Daily Planet. Extra Superman suits in the closet. A fresh bouquet of sunflowers from the Kents’ garden for the dining table.

Soon, it appeared that Master Clark had basically moved his entire apartment into the Manor, but Alfred didn’t hear a single complaint about it from Master Bruce. In fact, his charge’s spirits seemed to improve in correspondence to the number of things with which his fellow superhero littered his house. A few times, Alfred even caught him humming to himself as he filled out paperwork in the study, under the watchful eyes of his parents.

Sometimes, he brought cookies to Batman in the cave and found Superman perched in the air next to the throne-like computer chair, silently watching his partner work on the latest case. One time, just before Alfred announced his presence, he spotted a gloved hand resting affectionately on a blue-clad knee. Even better were the times when he walked into the study to bring Master Bruce tea and found his charge not at his opulent desk but lounging on the luxurious couch, reading up on criminal justice while leaning ever-so-slightly against Master Clark, who would be peering at his notes and his laptop screen through those false glasses of his.

But Alfred knew Master Clark had truly weaseled his way into Master Bruce’s heart when he found a new picture frame on the desk in the study, among the billionaire’s photos of Dick, Tim, and Alfred himself. The simple picture frame held a single photograph of Master Bruce and Master Clark with their arms around each other. Master Bruce even had a delighted smile on his face. Behind them lay a clear ocean and an expanse of blue sky; Alfred recognized the landscape as part of a Caribbean island where the couple had recently spent some vacation time. Alfred stared at the picture for a very long time. He even, to his own surprise, felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes when he finally put it down. Anybody who didn’t see how good Master Clark was for Master Bruce had to be blind.

When Master Bruce announced that Clark Kent would be moving in permanently and joining their household, Alfred had been the least surprised. As the boys cheered and welcomed Master Clark to the family – they too, Alfred knew, were relieved that their mentor had found someone to share his life with on a level that they could never achieve – Alfred had simply nodded in approval and then made a trip to the kitchen to grab dessert.

But Master Bruce had surprised him after the meal, sending the others away and helping Alfred gather up the dishes. Alfred could sense a distinct wave of anxiety emanating from his charge, as evidenced by the slightly shaky way he had set the pile of dirty dishes down on the polished granite countertop.

“May I be of assistance with something, sir?” he asked a bit impatiently. An anxious Master Bruce was rarely a good thing.

“It’s Clark, Alfred, I, uh, I just wanted to, uh… Hmm.”

Alfred merely raised an eyebrow at his master’s hesitation, giving him the time he needed to gather up his words. Remarkable, among Superman’s many talents, none were as shocking as this uncanny ability to make the calculating, eloquent Master Bruce uncertain of his words.

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“You’ve been like a father to me all these years, Alfred,” Master Bruce suddenly blurted out. “I know I already said that Clark is going to become a permanent part of the family, but I just wanted…your blessing.”

Alfred had to repress an amused chuckle at the nervous way Master Bruce was fiddling with his cufflinks like a worried teenager. He decided to make things a little tougher for his charge. It was only so often that he had the chance to see Master Bruce doing something that was the equivalent of something as ordinary as asking one’s father for a blessing of one’s engagement, after all.

“But sir, you are of course free to invite whomever you wish into your own household. My approval has no true meaning.”

“It would mean a lot to me. Please humor me, old friend,” Bruce responded, his words rushed like they had been rehearsed. Alfred felt amusement tilt the corners of his lips upward.

“My dear boy,” he replied easily, “there is nothing and nobody who I would approve of more. And might I be so bold to say – it’s about time.”

Master Bruce had gifted him with a smile wider than any Alfred remembered getting from the adult Bruce. It was more than enough to convince him that Master Clark was doing wonders for his charge.

Later that night, Alfred had gone to the master bedroom to turn down the sheets when he ran into Master Clark. Literally. Alfred rubbed his forehead in consternation; the impact had felt akin to running straight into a brick wall. It was a good thing he hadn’t been moving any faster. But then Master Clark had proceeded to help him up while babbling apologies, and Alfred had shaken his head in further amusement before reassuring the apologetic reporter that no real harm had been done.

“Actually, I’m glad I found you, Alfred,” Master Clark said. His large fingers nervously shoved his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose.

“’Found’ is a bit mild, don’t you think?” Alfred muttered. His words prompted Master Clark to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “Did you need something, sir?”

“I just wanted to ask you something.” Master Clark hesitated. “Bruce didn’t seem to think that this mattered, but it matters a lot to me. Are you really okay with me moving in and…everything? After all, sometimes I think this is really more your house than it is Bruce’s, and I would hate to carelessly intrude on whatever set-up you have going here…”

Oh, these boys. It was incredibly endearing how they faced raving lunatics and alien armies on a daily basis without batting an eye but faltered when it came to asking him for permission for something so simple.

He said simply, “Master Clark. Anybody who can put and keep Master Bruce in such good spirits is a welcome addition to the family. And anybody who has been allowed to know him to the extent that you do and still trusts and puts up with him is a rare gem indeed. In fact, I’m not sure there’s any other in the world. And sir, I may be stepping out of line here, but I’m extremely pleased that you are the one he has chosen.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I was rooting for you from the start.”

There was no other way to describe it: Master Clark beamed at him with a heartfelt smile lit with the force of a thousand watts, and for a brief moment, Alfred was blown away at the intensity and the honesty of that delighted expression, so different from the ones in the newspaper. Perhaps this was the magic behind the mysterious and oddly disconcerting contentment that Master Bruce radiated these days.

“Thank you, Alfred. I promise I won’t let you down.”

“I’m certain you won’t,” Alfred said with absolute confidence and an echoing smile of his own. “Welcome home, Master Clark.”