Alfredxgrandaughter Reader - Tumblr Posts

Tea Time with Alfred

Context: Alfred has always been a close family friend of your Grandma. After her death both of you haven't been dealing with the grief very well, so you decide to start hanging out more to ease the pain. (Y/G/N: your grandma’s name)

Knocking on the door to Wayne Manor, I fumble with the basket of muffins in my left hand. A very confused Jason opens the door.

"Look Y/N..." He begins awkwardly shifting his balance. Guilt spreads across his sculpted features.

"With love, I'm not here for you." I interrupt putting my hand up to silence him, "Whatever you have to say, save it for another time."

Brushing past him, I wander down the hallway past a dozen or so portraits of the Wayne family. With the high ceilings and shelves filled with books older than my great Grandma, I narrowly get lost in the grandeur. One of the glass shelves catches my attention. A much younger looking Alfred beams up at me while a soaked brunette angrily swats at his shoulder with a shoe. My heart contracts when I recognize the woman. Years before she got sick, Y/G/N was radiant. Although the photo is in black and white, I know for certain she is wearing her faithful orange sweater that was in rags by the time I came around. The photo reads: Alfred's revenge London 1965. My eyes well up with tears at the thought of her being so healthy. The image of how frail she looked in that hospice bed will forever be burned in my heart.

The next photo over shows Alfred, Grandma, and I at my first visit to Gotham. Freshly nine, Gotham was such an adventure. Driving into the city was... nothing short of magical. There may have been crime in every corner, but her stories brought much needed light into the city. My 9 year old self hadn't yet grown into herself. With cracked glasses I had broken moments prior and aggressively neon braces, my fashion had a long way to go. I was probably too big to go on Alfred's shoulders at that point, but he picked me up anyway for the walk around the city. The crowded boardwalk behind us sold the best deep fried oreos in Gotham city. A teenager at the time, Dick had convinced me that the secret ingredient was cocaine... As an adult looking at Gotham city, that joke may not be too far off.

The infamous smell of Alfred's baking grounds me to the present. Dickie isn't stealing my gameboy anymore. He's happily living in Bludhaven revamping their police force. Shit, I really need to call him back. How do you tell someone that if you talk about it there is no guarantee that the crying will ever stop?

It doesn't matter what he’s been saying. It's better to not burden him with this. I take a deep breath to avoid a breakdown. Cookies. Tea time. Glancing at my watch, I realize I'm five minutes late. Classic y/n.

Alfred's back is to me when I finally stumble into the kitchen. A mischievous grin emerges on my face as I creep closer making a conscious effort to silence my footsteps. Jason used to say that watching the two of us sneak up on each other was like watching a cheetah stalking its prey. Of course, Alfred always made it look so easy though. Halfway there....

Stirring a bowl of brownie batter by hand, he calls out to me.

"You've got to do a lot better than that if you want to sneak up on me."

I stifle a laugh throwing my hands up in surrender.

"Sorry Alfie.... Old habits die hard. You would not believe what happened to me today..."

Conversing with the older man fills a void, I have been missing. Telling him about life made everything less scary. If I can spin these horrifying events into a joke during tea time.. well I guess I can survive it.

Alfred isn't one to diverge intense grief, yet I will never forget how heartbroken he was when he explained how painful it was to talk to me. Although our features may be completely different, it was the mannerisms that hurt the most to see: the way I held my hands when I was nervous, the anxious laughter in stressful situations, the silly regency romance novels that sat on my bedside table, the intense hatred of the barren winter... My entire being has been shrouded by her love. For better or worse.

The first couple months, I could almost pretend she wasn't gone. Working two jobs while attending school doesn't give me much time to reflect. However, the holidays left an unspoken hollow void. The empty seat at dinner. The contact I would instinctively dial. The horrible sinking in my chest when I remembered the phone would ring forever.

At the beginning, I think we both pretended we were talking to her. Now as I cackle over his photo collection of Tim falling asleep in public places, I realize how much I love the man who was so important to her. This pain may always stay with me, but what is grief if not love persevering?