#my other apprentices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luxaofhesperides · 1 year

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those who serve.

CHAPTER TWO: a conviction.

read chapter one on tumblr or read the entire fic on ao3.

this is 7k words. be warned. . . .

It takes three days of angling at what he wants before Alfred looks him dead in the eye and says, “You may ask me for anything, Danny. Please do not hesitate if you need to ask for help.”

So Danny bites the bullet and says, “Can I work for you? It just sounds like you have to do a lot on your own, and having someone else around might make things easier for you.”

Alfred blinks. “You… wish to work for me?”

“Yeah. Like, I need a job anyways but I doubt most places will hire a homeless high school dropout. But you know me, and you can give me errands to do so you have time for other things.”

“You would like to work,” Alfred says again, slowly, “For me.”

Danny gives him a long look. His heart starts to sink, heavy as stone. He’s starting to get the feeling that he’s messed up, that he wasn’t actually supposed to ask Alfred for help, that this is a mistake. It’s a stupid idea to begin with, and now that he’s actually asking, he can see that this was never going to work out.

He may have just ruined the only friendship he has in this dimension because of his stupid mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, drawing into himself, ready to leave and hide away until the shame lessens enough that he can stand to be a part of society. Or, not a part, but on the periphery of society. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It was stupid. I’ll just go now.”

“Danny,” Alfred says. He doesn’t reach out to Danny, just stands still with his impeccable posture, hands clasped in front of him. Danny could leave, could disappear and never be seen again. Alfred wouldn’t be able to catch up to him. He doesn’t need to stay, but something in Alfred’s voice leaves no possibly for refusal.

He stops and lifts his head just enough to meet Alfred’s eyes.

“It is not stupid,” Alfred says sternly. “I was simply surprised. There will be details to be worked out, but I would be glad to have your help.”

“Really?”

Alfred smiles. “Really. Now, would you like to tell me what you would like to do while we walk?”

That’s something he really likes about Alfred: he always gives Danny a choice. It’s not a trick, either, there’s no wrong answer. He never demands anything, never orders him around, just offers Danny choices and gives him the time to actually chose what he wants.

If Danny says no, he doesn’t want to talk about it at the moment, Alfred would accept it and change the topic, talk about something else.

He can say no, and it’s a relief.

He doesn’t, of course, because he does need this job, but it’s nice to know that the option is there.

“What’s there to say?” he begins, “I just wanna help you out. You’re always out way too early, doing all these errands on your own. And you’ve never mentioned anyone helping you while you work in that manor.”

“Well, I would like to know what you want to do, Danny. What sort of tasks would you like to oversee?”

Danny bluescreens for a moment. He’s never actually thought about his career, not after the accident that destroyed his future. There’s no way any of his space knowledge will be helpful in housekeeping, and most places don’t have sentient food that needs to be fought and defeated. Hell, he doesn’t even have a resume!

Not that this is like. A legitimate job interview or anything. It’s just asking for a favor.

Does this count as nepotism?

Danny is way too young to know any of this. He’s never felt more unprepared for something before. How are career talks supposed to go? Is he supposed to negotiate for his salary? What even is the minimum wage in Gotham?

“I don’t know,” he admits, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Whatever you want me to do, I guess.”

“Have you ever had a job before?”

Danny shakes his head, trying to push down the shame that wells up in him. Alfred doesn’t seem upset by this answer, just thoughtful. It’s not like it’s a surprise, anyways.

“I see,” he says, “Would you like to shadow me for the day and get an idea of what I do?”

And then he can figure out how he wants to help Alfred, Danny realizes. It’s the solution to this problem, one that Alfred’s offering up as another simple yes-no choice. This would work, help him get a better idea of what he can do, what’s expected of him, but Danny doesn’t particularly want to follow Alfred around all day.

Not because of the company; Alfred’s great, Danny would be happy to spend all week with him. The problem is that Alfred is only out very rarely, and spends all the rest of his time working on keeping that manor functional.

Danny does not want to end up in the house of another rich person when he doesn’t know them. He doesn’t want anything to do with rich families that probably are either very weird or are hiding dark secrets.

That being said, he does really need a job and he trusts Alfred well enough. If he says his employers are good, then Danny will trust in that and only be a little miffed if they try to kill him.

“Sure,” he says, despite all his misgivings. “Sounds good.”

“Come along, then,” Alfred claps his hands together, looking rather happy about this outcome, “We have much to do.”

They walk to Alfred’s favorite tea shop, where the owner always has a new blend ready for him. Danny stays behind Alfred the entire time, carefully staying out of any small talk as he tries to force down the anxious twisting of his heart. This is all happening so suddenly, with barely any time for him to process, and it’s taking effort to not run away.

It would be fine if this was all the job was; bodyguarding Alfred on his early morning errands, all personal business so he can catch up with friends or get something for himself before shifts all his attention to keeping his employers alive.

He can handle bodyguardings. It’s practically the only thing he’s good at: keeping people safe no matter the cost to himself.

But the thought of walking into a big, fancy manor to keep an absurdly rich family alive is making his skin crawl. Sam’s parents never liked him, preferring to stick to social circles far above him, and Vlad was Vlad.

These ones he knows nothing about, can do nothing to prepare for meeting them. All he has is Alfred’s vague comments about them when he talks about his job, but he’s always very careful to keep the details close to his chest. Danny doesn’t even know the names of the people Alfred works for.

There’s no way they’re going to be okay with having him around.

Danny’s going to take one step into the manor and get kicked out. And Alfred will have to side with them to keep his own job and Danny’s back to where he started, out on the streets with no way of supporting himself.

Maybe he should have thought this through more. Maybe he should ask if Alfred can set him up with some other job, ask one of his friends for an opening.

“Are you quite alright, Danny?”

Alfred’s voice cuts through his thoughts and Danny realizes that he’s been silently following Alfred down the street, lost in his head, and he’s completely missed whatever Alfred just said.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, what did you say?”

“I simply wanted to know if you’ve eaten breakfast yet.”

“Oh, I haven’t. I don’t usually eat breakfast.”

Alfred makes a disapproving sound, then quickly turns on his heel and begins to walk across the street. Danny stares after him blankly, then hurries to follow after him, eyeing the few people walking out of buildings just in case they try to start something.

For a man his age, Alfred sure moves fast. It’s a change from how he usually walks at a steady, sedate pace, leisurely strolling through the streets of Gotham as if it’s a walk through the park. It’s a struggle to adjust his pace to make sure he keeps up with Alfred without speeding past him.

“Where are we going?” he asks as Alfred continues his journey down the block.

“We are going back to the manor,” Alfred announces, “I will not have anyone go hungry on my watch.”

Danny bites back his immediate reply of I am not going to the manor with you and instead says, “I’m not hungry, though.”

“Nonsense. I have cared for many teenage boys in my lifetime. You lot are always hungry.”

That’s. Fair.

Yeah, most teenage boys are always hungry. Danny certainly was before… Before.

When he was fully alive and safe. Even when he was turned into a halfa and had to keep secrets, he was always hungry, stealing snacks from Sam and Tucker or going to Nasty Burger with them to settle his stomach. All his appetite disappeared the moment he had to flee his home dimension and it hasn’t come back since.

He doesn’t think it ever will. It’s not like he really needs to eat as much now; being half dead helps him last longer without food or water, and he’s sure his stomach is about the size of a walnut now, with how little he’s been eating.

Danny’s not about to dump all that onto Alfred, though, so he keeps his mouth shut and follows Alfred to a small parking lot behind a deli. There are a few cars left there overnight, and one that, while not as obviously expensive as the last one Alfred drove, is in much better condition than the other ones. Alfred pulls the keys out of his pocket and unlocks the car, opening the passenger side door first.

“Come along now,” he says, “You’ll be having breakfast before you accompany me through my day.”

This is what he’s agreed to, so he doesn’t protest despite how getting into such a small, enclosed space makes his skin crawl. He hasn’t been in anything as small as a car in… months. In fact, the last time he was in a small space, it was the thermos after his parents caught him. Jazz had to steal it in order to release him, but his parents caught on a little too fast and chased after him before he could even get out of the house.

He doesn’t like small spaces anymore, is the point.

Barely breathing, Danny slides into the passenger seat. The door shuts behind him with a heavy click and suddenly there’s no air in the car. It’s only the fact that Danny can hold his breath for around half an hour that keeps him from hyperventilating. As long as he doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t need to worry about the way his lungs are twisting, how his throat is tight, how his hands shake where they’re pressed against his thighs.

Alfred opens the door again, getting behind the wheel. He starts the engine and gently reminds Danny to put on his seatbelt, then reverses out of the parking space once he sees that Danny is buckled up.

The drive is a blur. At some point, he thinks he hears Alfred trying to talk to him, but Danny is too focused on not losing his cool to actually process anything happening outside his head. One moment, they’re pulling out of the parking lot and into the street. The next, a large iron gate is opening in front of them, allowing the car to continue down the gravel road leading to a large, Gothic styled manor.

Sam would love this place, Danny thinks when he sees it, then takes a shaky breath to fight back to burn of tears in his eyes.

He immediately stops breathing again, hanging onto his composure by the thinnest possible thread.

The car comes to a stop off to the side of the entrance steps. There’s also a wheelchair ramp there; accessibility isn’t something he was expecting to see from a rich person’s home, but it’s at least one sign that these people won’t be as bad as the ones he’s met before.

Alfred likes them for a reason, he reminds himself, he just needs to see what it is before he commits to working around them in any capacity.

“Here we are, Danny,” Alfred says, cutting the engine and opening the door. Danny scrambles to follow, pulling off his seatbelt and all but falling out of the car in his rush to escape the suffocating space. “Are you quite alright?”

Danny blinks up at Alfred, trying and failing to calm down from the everything messing him up at the moment. “Yeah,” he croaks, then hurries to clear his throat. “I’m good. Just… overwhelmed.”

“If you would rather do this another day—”

“No! No, I’m fine, really. I can do this today. Better now than never, you know?”

Alfred doesn’t look like he believes him, but it’s fine. Danny can handle it! He’s handled everything that’s been thrown his way so far, no matter how terrible. He can handle staying inside a giant manor to learn how to be a butler.

Piece of cake compared to fighting Pariah Dark, really.

“So this is where you work?” he asks, trying to change the subject. “Big place.”

“Indeed. It has been in the Wayne family for many generations. My father worked here and I followed in his footsteps. I have cared for this home and its inhabitants for many decades now.”

Well. Never let it be said that Alfred isn’t dedicated to his job.

“Wow. You must really love this job, to stay so long.”

“It can be hard,” Alfred says, a sad smile on his face, “But it is always worth it.”

That… sounds like there’s a story there. A painful one. Danny won’t pry, he knows better than to go poking his nose in sensitive matters like those; usually, death is usually involved and he is well aware of how difficult talking about death can be.

Alfred unlocks the front entrance, pulling one of the large double doors open. “After you, Danny,” he says, holding it open.

Danny ducks his head, mumbling his thanks, and steps inside.

The manor is quiet. It’s dark, also, with only the soft light of a floor lamp illuminating the foyer. Everyone else must still be asleep, which isn’t a surprise seeing as it’s barely past dawn. Danny’s just gotten too used to being awake during the night, and had forgotten that most people don’t get up as early as Alfred does.

Despite the darkness of the manor, he can pick out the fancy rugs and the large chandelier above his head. A grand staircase is at the end of the foyer, with hallways going along the side of the stairs. Seeing the manor from the outside is one thing. Standing inside it and feeling the true scope of how large it is, is something else entirely.

“You take care of this entire place by yourself?” he can’t help but ask, glancing back to see Alfred shutting the door behind him. “Also, do I need to take off my shoes?”

“No need, though I appreciate you asking. And yes, I often tend to the manor by myself. When I am able, I will call in outside cleaning services to prepare the manor for large events.”

Despite having permission, Danny still feels uncomfortable walking all over fancy rugs with his grimy shoes. He’s been wandering all over Gotham, especially through quieter, dirtier areas. He doesn’t want to think about how difficult getting all the dirt out of the rugs is going to be. Making more work for Alfred when he’s supposed to be helping leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Maybe if he just floats a little, just enough to keep his shoes off the floor without being obvious…

“This way, Danny,” Alfred says, taking the lead and walking down a large hallway on the right. He flicks a switch as he goes, the lights turning on a split second later and revealing the landscape paintings that decorate the walls.

Man, Danny thinks, These people are Rich-rich. Maybe even richer than Vlad.

He hopes they’re not secretly a cult or something. Rich people always have some weird, fucked up secret they’re hiding. As long as it’s doesn’t involve murder or human experimentation, Danny can pretend he Does Not See and focus on helping Alfred.

The hallway leads to a large dining room with one of those extremely long tables, fit to seat twenty people. Smaller chandeliers hang from the ceiling, the dangling crystals glinting in the light.

Alfred, thankfully, doesn’t stop there. Danny would walk out of the manor and find a barn to live in if Alfred tried to have him eat in there. It’s just not happening, not now, not ever.

Beyond the dining room is the kitchen. Though still larger than any kitchen Danny’s ever seen, it feels much more homely compared to the rest of the manor (that he’s seen so far). There’s a variety of papers pinned on the fridge door and a small shelf of cookbooks on the open space of the wall besides one of the windows. There are bar stools on one side of the kitchen island and a small table in the corner with six chairs, something more appropriate for smaller groups than the giant dining table.

There are potted plants in two corners, bringing some color into the room, as well as a vase of bright flowers on the island.

There is also, most notably, someone sitting on one of the bar stools, slumped over the island with his head resting in his arms. A cup sits off to his left, steam still wafting up from it.

Besides him, Alfred makes a disapproving tutting noise that has the guy lifting his head and turning around to face them.

“Hey, Alfred,” he says, voice rough with exhaustion. Even from this distance, Danny can see the bags under his ears. “Morning.”

“Master Tim, did you get any sleep at all?” It’s phrased like a question, but Danny can hear the reprimand clearly.

Tim can too, judging by his wince. “Some,” he says, not looking either of them in the eye. “It just wasn’t a night for sleeping.”

That means nothing to Danny, but it makes Alfred soften in sympathy.

“I shall speak to Master Bruce about having your schedule for today cleared.”

“I can still work—”

“Absolutely not.”

Tim looks like he’s gearing up to protest, then glances at Danny and slumps back down. “Fine,” he grumbles, pressing his forehead into the countertop, “But just this once.”

“This is one of my duties,” Alfred tells Danny as he walks towards the sink. “Taking care of the many stubborn members of this family. Getting them to take care of themselves is among the most pressing duties I have.”

“We’re not that bad,” Tim mutters.

“You came to this house for the sole purpose of helping Master Bruce,” Alfred counters.

Tim shrugs. “Yeah, that’s fair.” And then turns his attention back to Danny. “We’re all disasters, but I swear we know how to handle ourselves. Alfred just has strict standards.”

“I… don’t know if I’ll be able to help with that?” Danny says, looking between the two. “I’m usually the one being cared for, not the other way.”

“What, you get into a lot of trouble?”

“More like I’m very accident-prone.”

“You’ll fit in great, then,” Tim smiles, then sits up and rolls his shoulders back. He grabs his mug, takes a big swig, and sighs. “Guess I should get back to what I was doing.”

Alfred pulls out a cutting board and a knife, sets them on the counter, then opens the fridge to pull out various fruits, a pack of bacon, and some eggs. “Danny, do wash your hands and then take a seat. Master Tim, I’m sure Danny would appreciate your company a little longer.”

Tim slumps back down and offers Alfred a lazy salute. He hooks his ankle around the bar stool besides him and pulls it out for Danny.

This is going well so far. Nothing bad has happened, he hasn’t been attacked, and he’s met the first member of the family Alfred loves so much. Tim is chill; he’s clearly exhausted, has problems with sleeping and self-care, but he’s nice and seeing him act so casual, like any other teenager, has Danny relaxing.

He forces himself to move, walking in the air just a centimeter above the floor, and rolls up his sleeves to wash his hands. He finishes quickly, shaking water off his hands into the sink, and hopes neither of them saw the Lichtenberg figures on his right arm.

Alfred’s washing the fruit and laying them out on the cutting board when he glances over. Danny wants to help, but he also doesn’t want to get in the way, so he sits next to Tim, curling into himself some.

Tim watches him with a sharp gaze. He didn’t seem this awake a moment ago. The icy blue of his eyes feels dangerous, somehow, and Danny’s not sure what’s changed in between him washing his hands and sitting down, but he tries to stay still and not give away how nervous he is.

I’m just being paranoid, he tells himself. He doesn’t exist in this dimension. No one is out to hunt him down. They don’t know he’s a halfa, and it’s going to stay that way.

There’s no way Tim could know anything about Danny, but the look in his eyes makes Danny want to run.

“You look like adoption bait,” Tim says suddenly. He takes another sip of whatever’s in his mug. Coffee, based off the smell.

“Um. What?”

Tim gestures vaguely at Danny. “Blue eyes. Black hair. Sad. Y’know, Wayne adoption bait.”

“Does Wayne only adopt kids with those features?” Danny squints at Tim. “Did he get you? Do you need me to break you out of here?”

Tim laughs and the sharpness of his gaze eases. “No! I’m kind of a special case since I went to him instead of the other way around. But a lot of the others fit that description, and Bruce has adopted a lot of sad kids over the years, so it’s a bit of a running joke in Gotham.”

“And he’s nice? He’s good to you? To everyone?”

If this is another Vlad situation, Danny’s going to get every kid out of the manor and somewhere safe. Where that somewhere is, he doesn't know yet, but he’ll figure it out once he gets there. Alfred might not want to leave, but he won’t mind Danny protecting him while he’s around this ‘Bruce’ guy.

Probably.

Whatever, Danny can just go invisible and keep Alfred safe that way.

“Bruce is good,” Tim reassures. “He’s emotionally constipated and makes a lot of mistakes, but he means well and he cares about all of us. He’s a loser, but we all love him anyways.”

“Thank you for that, Tim,” comes a deep voice from behind them.

Danny tries not to jump out of his seat, manages to catch himself on the edge of the island before he flies up to the ceiling, and whips around to stare at the newcomer.

“Good morning, Master Bruce,” Alfred says from where he’s plating all the cleaning cut fruit.

“Hey, B,” Tim says, “Didn’t think I’d see you up so early.”

The man is large. Not as large as his dad—few people come close—but still bigger than Danny. He’s shoulders are wide and Danny can tell he’s packing a lot of muscle beneath his black turtleneck sweater. There are streaks of silver in his black hair, a few wrinkles around his blue eyes, and something about him sets Danny on edge.

He looks normal enough, but carries an undercurrent of danger.

This is someone who can do a lot of damage if Danny’s not careful.

“Good morning,” he returns to Tim and Alfred, but his eyes are fixed on Danny. “And hello. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Bruce.”

Bruce walks closer and holds out a hand with a smile. It looks fake, but well practiced enough that most people wouldn’t notice. Danny, who is very well versed in reading people to make sure they’re not going to try and kill him, notices.

He hesitates for a moment, then slowly takes Bruce’s hand into the world’s slowest, most awkward handshake.

“Danny,” he says. “Sorry for intruding.”

Behind him, Alfred loudly sets a frying pan down on the stove. “You were invited, Danny. You are not intruding.”

Danny tries to pull his hand back, but Bruce tightens his grip without warning. He turns Danny’s hand over, looking over it with a critical eye.

“Your hand is very cold,” he says, “Would you like a blanket?”

A spark of panic flares through him and Danny makes his hand intangible for a brief second to free himself from Bruce’s grasp. “No thanks,” he answers with a tight smile, “I just have bad circulation.”

Bruce hums thoughtfully, then steps away. He claps a hand on Tim’s shoulder, then moves to one of the cupboards to start making his own cup of coffee.

“Do you need any help, Alfred?” Bruce asks.

“I will not allow you to scare Danny away by setting the kitchen on fire again,” Alfred responds immediately.

“I could just set out plates,” Bruce amends.

“Please sit down, Master Bruce.”

Tim bites down a laugh, but his shoulders still shake with it. He turns his face away when Bruce looks at him, eyebrow raised judgmentally. He’s not smiling, but there’s a fond tilt to his lips, a softness in the heavy lines of his shoulders.

Danny watches it all, content to disappear in the background as he slowly relaxes again, basking in the warmth of a family that so clearly loves each other. They’re all at ease around each other, safe and at home, even with a stranger in their midst. It reminds him a bit of being a kid, clinging to Jazz’s back as they waited for their dad to pull out a batch of his fudge, their mom making hot chocolate for them.

It’s a bittersweet memory now, but still something he cherishes.

“We all try to help Alfred when we can,” Tim whispers to Danny, leaning over so they won’t be overheard, “But we’re pretty bad at it. Bruce, especially, can’t be trusted in a kitchen.”

“That sounds like a story I’d like to hear later,” he whispers back, and the grin Tim gives him is full of promise.

The kitchen quiets down after that, Tim and Bruce still tired and holding back yawns as Alfred continues cooking. Danny observes them all carefully, trying to learn more about them without actually having to talk to them. He watches Alfred cook as well, trying to learn through observation; he’s never cooked before, not when everything in the kitchen was ecto-contaminated and needed to be fought instead of eaten.

He’d like to learn. If Alfred’s willing to teach him, he’d like to learn how to cook normal food for normal people.

The morning creeps on, the world waking up outside. He can hear birdsong from outside, and though it’s too cloudy to see the sun, he’s sure it’s above the horizon now.

Alfred sets plates of cut fruit down in front of Bruce, then Tim, and then Danny. It’s followed by a separate plate of bacon and eggs. He asks the room at large how they would like their toast prepared, to which Bruce requests lightly toasted with honey, Tim asked for blueberry jam, and Danny doesn’t say a word.

“Danny?” Alfred prompts, and Danny looks up from his plate.

“Oh, um, no thank you,” he answers awkwardly. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat this much.”

Alfred accepts the answer easily enough, moving to start making the other requests, but Tim is staring at him with his piercing gaze again. Danny tries to ignore him, popping a blackberry into his mouth.

It’s not Tim who says anything. It’s Bruce, who starts by clearing his throat and gently beginning with “Do you have a stable living situation right now, Danny?”

“Jesus, B,” Tim says, “That is not how you should be starting this conversation.”

“It’s important to know.”

“Yes?” Danny lies very unconvincingly, then slumps when three people give him disbelieving looks. “I’m doing my best, okay. And I’m taking care of myself just fine.” He nibbles on a piece of bacon to stop himself from saying anything else, hoping they’ll back off if he doesn’t make eye contact.

For a moment, it looks like Tim is going to speak again. Then a new voice pipes up from behind them and again, Danny has to cling to the counter to stop from flinching too hard.

“Who is this,” a young voice demands. When Danny turns around, there’s a kid standing in the doorway, arms crossed, as he glares at Danny.

“Um,” Danny says, “Hi? I’m Danny.”

The kid moves his glare from Danny to Bruce. “This was not mentioned,” he says rather accusingly.

“This one isn’t mine,” Bruce says, “This one is on Alfred.”

Everything about this conversation is flying over his head, so Danny decides to ignore it and go back to slowly working his way through his first breakfast in around a month. It’s delicious, but he can only finish the fruit and some of the eggs and bacon before his stomach starts twisting.

Tim pulls the plate away when Danny can’t eat anymore. “Don’t push yourself,” he says, “I can finish it, if you want.”

He gives up his plate with a grateful smile, and turns to get up and see if he can get a glass of water. The kid is right by his elbow when he turns and Danny has to take a deep breath and slowly let it out before he accidentally kicks the kid and sends him flying.

“Why are you here,” he says, tense and ready to move. He looks ready for a fight, which is odd and concerning to see on someone who can’t be any older than twelve.

“I was invited,” he answers, “I’m maybe going to work for Alfred? If today goes well, I guess.”

The kid’s eyebrows go up. “You are not being adopted.”

“No,” Danny says slowly, “I’m just looking for a job.”

Abruptly, the kid relaxes, then sticks out a hand. “I am Damian Wayne. I will be keeping an eye on you.”

“Don’t be rude, gremlin,” Tim says just as Danny shakes his hand.

“I am being reasonably wary,” Damian counters, “You are far too lax with a stranger in our home.”

“I’m trusting Alfred to not bring in anyone dangerous,” Tim corrects.

“Boys,” Bruce calls out, warningly. They both look away from each other, scowling. “And Danny,” he continues, “If you don’t have anywhere to stay, you’re welcome here even if you don’t work.”

This time, it’s Tim who cuts him off with a quick call of “Bruce,” just as Damian says, “Father, enough.”

“If I can offer help, I will. I don’t need to adopt everyone who comes through here.”

Alfred sends him a withering look that has Bruce looking away, sipping his coffee, pretending he didn’t say anything. Tim scoffs loudly and Damian shakes his head disapprovingly.

“I’m telling everyone you said that,” Tim declares, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He types something out, looking more and more awake now that he has more people to talk to. Or more people he can embarrass Bruce with.

There’s definitely something that Danny’s missing here, but he doesn’t intend to spend enough time around them for it to matter. All he’s here to do is shadow Alfred and hopefully get a job. Maybe having friends in this dimension would be nice, but that’s something to consider after he’s figured out his living situation.

“Oh!” Tim says suddenly, holding out his phone to Danny. “Give me your number. You can text me any questions you have about us.”

“Can’t Alfred answer any questions I have?”

“Sure, but he’ll give you the polite, respectful answer. I can give you all the hot gossip.”

Danny can’t help but smile at that. He thinks he’s found a good friend in Tim, but only time will tell. “As much as I’d like that, I don’t actually have a phone. So.”

“I can get you one right now,” Tim says.

“No, no! It’s fine. I’ll buy one once I have like. A paycheck or something. Wait,” Danny pauses, “I don’t have a bank account either. Okay, so this is gonna take some time, but eventually I’ll have a phone!”

Tim turns to Bruce. “Okay, I can’t even judge you for this one. If you don’t let him work with Alfred, I’ll find a position for him at WE.”

WE? That’s a new term. There’s still so much he needs to learn about this dimension and Danny can’t get started because he can’t access the internet and all the libraries are closed when he wanders.

Besides him, Damian clicks his tongue, then takes a plate of eggs, fruit, and jam covered bread from Alfred and takes a seat next to Bruce.

Danny decides to take the lull in conversation as a chance to ask Alfred for some water, only to see that somehow, without him noticing, a full glass has appeared where his empty plate once was. He looks up to see Alfred round the island, passing off the request toast to Bruce and Tim, then collecting all the empty plates he can find.

He mentally notes the moment as further proof that Alfred has magic.

The three members of the Wayne family busy themselves with their food. Danny cradles the cool glass in his hand, drinking slowly so he doesn’t upset his stomach even more, and tries not to tense up as the back of his neck prickles. They’re not obvious about it, but they’ll all paying close attention to him and it’s making him anxious.

Normal people aren’t so focused or intense. They certainly aren’t as dangerous as the three in the kitchen. Danny isn’t even sure how he can tell, he just can. It might be some sort of instinct, recognizing them as potential threats due to all the ghosts he’s fought since the Accident.

He really hopes he never finds how why they’re all so dangerous.

There’s quiet clink of a plate, and when he looks up, Alfred is taking the last few empty plates to the sink.

“I could wash those for you,” he offers, “Since it’s, y’know, what I’m here for. To help you.”

Alfred smiles warmly and shakes his head once. “There is no need just yet, Danny. Thank you for the offer, however. I would be glad to have such a kind person help me, should you choose to work with me by the end of today.”

It doesn’t feel right to let Alfred cook for him and clean up after everyone. But he also doesn’t want to go against Alfred in his workplace. Or his home? The manor may also be his home, which is worrying for the future of Danny’s professional boundaries.

Damian leaves, saying he needs to get ready for school, and Tim mumbles something about work before Alfred talks over him and tells Bruce that Tim is taking a sick day. He doesn’t seem to mind being ordered around by a butler, though most of the orders are phrased as very pointed observations. Danny’s beginning to think it’s a British thing.

And then Alfred finishes washing the dishes and leaves everything in the drying rack, and says, “Why don’t we discuss the possible terms of Danny’s employment in your study, Master Bruce.”

“That sounds like a fine idea,” Bruce says as he stands, pushing his seat in. He gestures of Danny to follow him and begins walking out of the kitchen.

Danny hesitates, but goes easily enough, some of his worry easing when Tim and Alfred both walk with him, guiding him through the manor.

He’d look around and take in everything if he could; Danny’s too busy thinking of worst case scenarios to enjoy seeing all the paintings and photographs and various decorations scattered throughout the manor. Sam’s place was always clean, save for her room, and only existed to show off wealth. Vlad’s was a castle in Wisconsin, which already says more than enough.

Wayne Manor, on the other hand, is big and homey. There’s a history within these walls. It’s almost tangible, full of love and laughter and grief and hope. The wealth is obvious, but so is the love of family.

Even in Bruce’s study, there are signs. Photographs on the wall, all carefully framed, of various people holding poses. Danny keeps his eyes on them as Bruce rounds the large desk and gets settled, taking in the smiles of a young boy next to an elephant, a trio of girls at a ballet, a group shot of the family on a beach vacation.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” Tim asks, following his gaze to the photographs.

Danny nods. “Everyone looks really happy.”

“That’s probably why there’s so few of these photos,” Tim says, then quickly covers up his somber tone with a cough. “Go ahead and sit down.”

So he sits, feeling like he’s at the principal’s office, in trouble yet again for some ghostly nonsense. Except instead of his principal, it’s a rich man who might be his boss by tomorrow.

“Now,” Bruce begins, folding his hands together on top of the desk, “I understand that you want to work as Alfred’s apprentice, of sorts. Assist him with his own tasks. Is this correct?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes.”

“And if I’m understanding you properly so far, you are in need of a job because you’re homeless. Yes?”

“Also yes.”

Bruce nods thoughtfully. “If you wish to live within the city itself, we would be happy to help you find a good place to live. However, you could also live here, as Alfred does. It make needing transportation unnecessary, and you would remain close to Alfred should he need any help.”

He almost instinctively rejects the offer, too used to expecting the worse from wealthy men. An immediate offer to live with them? So suspicious it’s not even funny.

But he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. And it would keep him close to Alfred.

“Staying here sounds like the better option. I have a few conditions, though,” he says, watching Bruce’s face carefully for any sign of anger or annoyance.

There’s none. He’s as patient and unflappable as ever.

“And they are…?” he prompts when Danny doesn’t continue.

“I won’t be your son,” he says. “No adoption. I’ve had enough of rich men trying to force me into their families just to prove a point, or for some other stupid reason. I’m not having it here.”

“Fair enough,” Bruce says.

“And if I find out you’re like, secretly evil, I’m allowed to run away with my body intact. You don’t get to keep any part of me.”

“Also fair,” Bruce says, nodding slowly as he begins to look more and more concerned.

“No cloning or other experiments with humans. If I see any sign of that, I’m out.”

Bruce goes very, very still in a way that means nothing good. Danny squints at him, then glances to Tim so he can gauge if this is bad or not. Only Tim is also very still, staring down at the floor and slightly pale. Paler than before, in any case.

“Please don’t have some sort of secret lair in your basement. I do not want to know if you’re leading a cult or not. I want no part of it. Either don’t have a secret lair in your basement, or keep me out of it.”

Alfred clears his throat delicately. There’s the faintest trace of laughter in his voice when he says, “All very good conditions, don’t you think, Master Bruce?”

“Right. Yes. I… accept those conditions. Which are very reasonable.”

Danny squints at him, wondering which of those conditions, exactly, is throwing him off guard. He’s well aware that all of them are rather outlandish, but considering his life, he’s not taking any chances. So far the Waynes seem like a pleasant family, but he thought Vlad was cool up until he got tortured and then subsequently never truly got away from him.

This second attempt at life is too important to risk.

If Bruce is evil with a secret basement liar, Danny is well within his rights to lose his shit about it.

“Okay,” Danny says after a minute. “That’s it. Those are all my conditions.”

“Right! Well, why don’t we talk about your salary.”

“Um.”

Danny shoots Alfred a wide-eyed look of panic. At that exact moment, Damian appears in the doorway of the study and says, “Pennyworth, I am in need of a ride to school.”

“What’s got you so excited for school?” Tim asks, twisting around so Damian can see his incredulous expression.

“Colin has promised to show me pictures of his cousin’s pet bird.”

Tim nods as if this is all very normal. Alfred quietly promises Danny that he’ll be back soon, then leaves with Damian so the kid can continue his education. Which leaves Danny floundering of an answer, at a complete loss as he tries to come up with reasonable numbers for a salary.

“Can I just shadow Alfred for a day before we talk about this?” he asks, searching for a way out of this situation.

Bruce frowns. “It would be best to get the details settled now. You’ll have plenty of time to learn from Alfred later.”

“Let me handle this,” Tim says, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder. Then he looks at Bruce and suddenly isn’t the tired, fun teenage boy Danny’s been hanging out with during breakfast. Now he’s serious, holding himself tall, as if he has equal standing with Bruce.

Please come back fast Alfred, Danny mentally pleads as Tim and Bruce start speaking about wages and hours and health insurance and kidnapping policies.

What the hell kind of butler job even needs a kidnapping policy?

Maybe he didn’t think this through. But now that he’s here, Danny’s determined to see it through. He’s gotta get this job; if not for his sake, then for Alfred’s.

No one should have to handle the Waynes, daily, on their own. That, at least, is something Danny can help with.

If there’s anything Danny’s good at, it’s dealing with crazy.

Now that’s something he can confidently put on his resume.

("Are you sure about him?" Damian asks as Alfred drives him to school.

"Quite certain," Alfred replies, smoothly switching lanes.

"And he's just here to work? Not for Batman, or Robin, or to infiltrate the family?"

"Indeed. In fact," Alfred says, glancing up into the rear view mirror where he can see Damian scowling down at his backpack, "he was rather insistent that no one adopts him. It was one of his conditions for staying in the Manor."

This isn't much, just word of mouth for a stranger they know virtually nothing about, but it's enough to appease Damian for the time being.

"Fine," he says, just as they pull up to the school drop-off lane. "I will permit him to stay so long as he doesn't harm the family or try to take my place."

"Very good. I imagine you will get on well with him once you get to know him. He's a difficult boy to dislike."

"We'll see," Damian mutters, then adjusts his grip on his backpack in preparation to leave. "I shall continue my surveillance of Danny when I return from school."

"Have a good day, Master Damian," Alfred calls out after him as he exits the car. He lingers just long enough to see Damian walk through the gates of the school, the merges back into traffic and begins the drive home. And if he drives a little faster than normal, there's no one around to point it out. Not that anyone could blame him for looking forward to day of teaching Danny the various ins and outs of his duties as a butler.

Bruce has had many children to raise and mentor in the lovely heroes and people they are today. It's about time Alfred got a student of his own.)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #alfred's apprentice au #butler danny au #my writing #fic #man no one knows anything about each other yet but when we get there!! its going to be such a mess :)#also. i underestimated how long this fic would be. tentatively putting it as a five chaptered fic for now.#please let that be enough....

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