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Finally

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Alfred dusted the table in the foyer, replacing the golden bowl filled with red and yellow chrysanthemums. Autumn sunlight streamed in through the windows, showing that he had done a good job.

He looked critically at the parquet floor. The polished sheen was more than adequate.

He moved on to the living room, continuing to dust. He knew every vase, every painting, every piece of furniture. Everything was precisely in its place, just as they should be.

Wayne Manor was beautiful, polished…some might say cold. Footsteps echoed in endless corridors, voices rang out in enormous rooms with vaulted ceilings, a map was needed by visitors to get around.

And yet it suited the inhabitants quite nicely: elegance, grace, style…all hallmarks of the two young gentlemen he served.

Two young gentlemen who were masters of dancing around each other. For goodness sake, Master Dick had turned eighteen six months ago! Really, what was the delay?

Master Bruce offered Master Dick a home, a purpose, a guide for a dangerous life.

Master Dick offered Master Bruce loyalty, sunshine and joy.

They understood each other in ways that no one else could.

Everyone had an origin story in the superhero community and sadly his boys had a similar story. It gave them a bond of understanding that others couldn’t quite relate to, but it had served the Dynamic Duo well on the streets of Gotham as they relied on each other for everything: back-up, each doing his job, companionship.

Always everything to each other.

Alfred left the living room and continued down the hall, pausing by the library.

Bruce was sitting at his desk, Dick in his lap, facing him as his acrobat’s legs wrapped themselves around Bruce, pulling him into a deep kiss.

Finally.

Alfred quietly retreated, a smile on his face.