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For all of Alfred’s omnipotent presence in Wayne Manor, he really was only one man, and the Manor was quite a large household. As such, Alfred kept the most-frequented spaces under his careful watch, wary of letting them fall into chaos without daily upkeep to combat the daily chaos caused by the family of barely subtle vigilantes.
Alfred, for his own sake, and the sake of the two-hundred-year old woodwork and architecture, had banned all Bat-related talk, gear, and mannerisms in the Manor itself. He had quite enough of all that in the two-thirds of the day that at least one member of the family was swinging through the streets, putting themselves in danger; it didn’t matter that everyone said that he didn’t have to be there to stay on the monitor at all times.
Of course he did, who else was going to make sure that every one of his kids made it back every morning?
No, Alfred has his priorities, and watching for his family’s safety comes before anything.
That doesn’t mean, of course, that Alfred neglects the caretaking of the rest of the Manor at all. Although the innumerable rooms may not be in daily use anymore, Alfred’s routine is impeccable, and there isn’t a spot in the house that hasn’t been looked over at least once a month.
At least, that’s what he thought before he came across a private sitting room in the back corner of the guest wing. The door leading to it had been one of the hidden ones that Thomas’s grandfather had taken great pleasure in setting up. From the stories, the man had been a great fan of puzzles and mysteries. Alfred thought he’d be quite proud of his great-grandson’s chosen hobby.
There were several such rooms scattered throughout the Manor, and Alfred hadn’t realized that he’d forgotten the location of one of them until he’d noticed the door.
Alfred had pushed it open, searching the wall beside for the switchplate to turn the lights on to see the state of the abandoned room. He expected dust, stale air, and maybe even the evidence of years of atmospheric damage.
But when he finally found the switch, Alfred saw no such evidence.
Mostly, because he couldn’t see anything at all. The elaborate chandelier hanging in the room had lit up only with a singular bulb, casting a small ray of light that bounced off a few meager crystals to weakly illuminate a corner of the room. Alfred had sighed, turning a small, powerful, flashlight on to see what the rest of the room had looked like, but to his surprise, it wasn’t the remains of a long abandoned room that he saw.
No, what he was witnessing was the hoard-worthy mess left behind by only the most troublesome of creatures: a father looking for privacy and solitude in a house inhabited by children from the count of one to eight at any given point in time.
Restoring the room to its once-magnificent state was a matter of hours of work, but Alfred enjoyed the slow shift from dull to gleaming woodwork, dusty to fresh upholstery, disarray to perfect organization. Really, it was a room to be proud of, Alfred had noted, as he’d pulled the door shut behind him, a job well done.
__
The next evening saw Alfred recruiting the boys at home in a clever little competition to clean the corners of the tall ceilings. They enjoyed getting to climb up on whatever contraption they liked to get to the top first, and Alfred enjoyed cobweb-less corners without risking his orthopedic health.
The same, apparently, could not be said for every member of the household however, because in the middle of a particularly spirited argument about whose mop had taken out a particular cobweb, Alfred’s mobile had dinged with a notification. And then another. And another.
As his mobile chimed incessantly, Alfred put down the silverware he was polishing with a sigh, and the boys turned to see who needed to get into touch with their butler so urgently.
His screen was impossible to read, and Alfred squinted at the device, pulling out his glasses before he remembered that he had turned down the brightness so as not to get blinded in the darkness of the Cave. After he finally managed to turn it up in between all the notifications still incoming, Alfred noticed that it was Bruce who was flooding his phone with messages.
> What did you do??
> I think I’m blind!
> How did you find this place? I thought no one had been here for years!
> Can a man have no sacred space in this godforsaken mansion?
> Where is my stuff?
> Why is it so bright in here? It feels like a flashbang!
> Alfred, I told you not to touch my things!
> I don’t ask for a lot. I just need some space in the peace and dark and quiet to unwind.
> I cannot believe you’ve done this to me.
Alfred cleared his throat and hid a smile as he held the phone close to his face. The boys looked incessantly curious, and Alfred knew they wouldn’t rest now until their curiosity had been sated.
He looked up, and immediately everyone turned back to their tasks, looking as un-busy as they always did when they tried to act like they weren’t snooping.
“Simply Doctor Thompkins. She had a consult query about a patient who came in with a complicated gunshot wound. Nothing to worry about.” Alfred said lightly, raising an eyebrow at Tim when he faltered longer than the rest in getting back to the dusting.
Picking his phone back up, Alfred thought fondly of the boy of seven who had thrown the most impressive tantrum when Alfred had tried to pick up around his room. If he remembered correctly, there were a lot of “you can’t touch my stuff” ’s and “get out of my room” ’s and his message history swept him with a wave of fond nostalgia.
<Your ‘man cave’ IS a part of the house, Master Bruce.
<Honestly the fact that I let it get to that condition is a travesty in itself.
<I’m getting old, clearly.
> Perish the thought, Alfred. I’m just that good at flying under the radar.
<So you’d like to think, my boy.
> And it’s not a man cave!
<The Gray Ghost memorabilia and mini-fridge would say otherwise, I should think.
> Touche… just don’t let the kids know.
<That I can do.
<So- how badly did you injure yourself falling over in a room that has actual light bulbs now?
> Not at all, of course. My instincts are much better than that.
<I’ll be in the kitchen with the first aid kit.
> I’m coming down now.