Two hours later Dick was home and testing the angry patches of sunburn he'd acquired on his arms and neck during the day. He'd asked about sunblock as he'd promised, but no one on his team had thought to bring any with. The ribbing he would have gotten from the other squads had he asked them had been painful to contemplate, so he'd refrained. Now, though, he was paying the price with a different type of agony, and as he tried to stretch his tightening skin he regretted not opting for ridicule.

The bell drew a reluctant groan from his throat. Who the hell...? he griped, dragging himself from the bathroom mirror to look through the peephole. ...Alfred? Surprised, he opened the door. "Hey. What's up, did we miss a spot? Please say no, I think I'm dying."

"Good lord, Master Dick," the butler's eyes widened when he spied the damage the sun had done. "Didn't you find any sunblock after I reminded you?"

"I tried," he winced as he stepped aside. "Nobody had any."

"Have you any burn cream or aloe, at least?"

"On the bathroom counter. I was just about to put some on."

"Sit down and drink something while I fetch it."

"Whatever you say." He did as he'd been told, wincing when his arm brushed the back of the chair. As unexpected as Alfred's arrival was, he had no intentions of complaining; the man would insist on applying the salve himself, and that would save him worlds of pain. "Did you find it?" he asked as he reappeared.

"I did. Is supermarket-grade all you have? There must be something better in your other first aid kit, I'm sure."

"There was some of your stuff in there, but I ran out last week. Not because I had to use it on an injury," he added before the Englishman's eyebrows could merge with his hairline. "The opposite, actually. It got so old that I didn't think it would be any good any more."

"I'm happy to hear that you didn't need to use it – hold still, please – but I can't imagine why you didn't immediately ask me to restock it for you."

"I kept meaning too," Dick answered, gritting his teeth as gentle fingers swiped over angry flesh, "but it's been so crazy lately..."

"It has indeed. We've barely seen you at the house for nearly a month."

"I know. I'm sorry." He paused. "...Is that why you performed your little act of altruism today?"

"You're referring to my donations, I assume?"

"Yeah."

"Oh...that may have been the underlying reason, I suppose. Let's not look too hard into it lest what appears on the surface to have been a good deed turns out to be little more than self-service, hmm?"

"C'mon, we both know Mauss' rule. There's no such thing as pure altruism. Who would hold it against you if you did fork over six hundred bucks today just so I'd have a day off to spend at home? The Widows and Orphans Fund got a ton of extra money regardless, and we might have won even if you hadn't shown up."

"Did you win?"

"Yeah. We won by, um...by a lot." It had almost been embarrassing, but it had made the team happy, so he couldn't really complain.

"Excellent. I'm glad to hear it."

"I was, too. Anyway, so it's not altruism." He shrugged, and immediately regretted it. "...Ow. Who says it has to be?" A little laugh rose in his throat as something occurred to him. "I think I prefer 'Al'truism."

The fingers on his shoulder hesitated. "'Al'truism? I'm afraid I don't see the...oh. Oh, that was a rather awful pun, young sir, even for you." Regardless, Dick could hear the man chuckling behind him.

"Aw, it wasn't that bad."

"If you insist. To return to the subject of your burns and the treatment that they so desperately need if you want to function tomorrow, why don't you come back to the house with me for the evening? You can breakfast with Master Wayne and Master Tim in the morning – I'll set out a waffle bar, if you like – and then I'll bring you over in time for your shift."

"...That's tempting, but I really need to patrol tonight."

"You must be joking. Can you even lift your arms all the way?"

He tried. "Uh...no. No, I can't."

"It will only get worse without the good burn cream."

"I know, I know...and home is where the cream is."

"Indeed."

"...Will you say it?"

"Say what?"

"The thing."

"'Home is where the cream is'?" Alfred guessed.

"Ha! Perfect." Grinning despite the soreness radiating up his arms and across his back, Dick stood and carefully pulled on the loose tank top he was handed.

"I fear I've missed the source of your amusement again."

"Ah, c'mon! 'Home is where the cream is'." He smirked, pleased with himself. "Once you said it, it became an Al truism."

The butler stared at him for a moment, then gave a defeated sigh and covered his eyes with one hand. "Really, young sir, your sense of humor at times is-"

"Fantastic? Brilliant? Marvelous?" Dick teased as he grabbed the few things he would need for a quick overnight to Gotham.

"...Let's just call it unique, shall we?"

"Unique it is. I'm ready when you are."

"Very good." They exited the apartment in silence, and it was only when they were halfway down the stairs that Alfred spoke again. "I meant to inquire...several of your team mates seemed to have similar surnames to your own earlier today. Was that a coincidence?"

"Heh. Nope," he smirked. "Emerson and Pierson were talking about building a team for today a few weeks ago. Their desks are close to mine, so I was sort of half-listening, you know, and I made the joke that they should have a team that you could only join if your last name ended in '-son'. They went for it."

"I'm amazed you had enough properly named volunteers in your precinct."

"Well...technically we were one short, but we bent the rule a little to let Sonders in." They stepped outside, and Dick stopped. "...Now you brought the best car," he beamed happily as he spotted the Porsche that sat waiting for him.

"I thought it would have been cruel to bring something by earlier that you love so much but couldn't have bragged about to your friends. This seemed like a better solution."

"It's perfect. Hello, gorgeous..." He ran his hand along the lines leading to the nearer headlight. "...I'm amazed it didn't get stolen while you were upstairs."

"I may have given some shady-looking fellows a rather hard look when I pulled up," Alfred shared. "I see they've cleared off now."

"Scaring all my petty criminals away?"

"Well, I could hardly let them steal what I believe may be your favorite part of your future inheritance, now could I?"

"No. But this car had better be at least another fifty years old before I inherit it or anything else."

"Agreed, Master Dick. Now, if you think you can handle sitting back against the seat...?"

It was a chore, but he managed it. The leather would be a bitch to pull away from once they were home, he knew, but for the moment it was refreshingly cool on his broiled skin. "Oh, man," he groaned, relaxing. "Bruce isn't going to believe the day I've had. Washing cars for charity, hanging out with the incomparable Alfred, eating hot dogs – that you knew about and paid for, that'll blow his mind – and now taking a ride in a sweet, sweet 911. Getting totally crispy was-" he broke off, yawning, "-worth it for all of this. It's way better than sitting in board rooms and fancy restaurants all day."

"I'm sure Master Wayne will agree with you on that. From the sound of things, however, you won't be awake to tell him about your day if you don't take a nap on the way home."

"Mm...you may have a point there," Dick conceded, his eyes already slipping to half-mast as the engine rumbled to life. "Such a good sound..."

"Go to sleep, young sir."

"I'll miss the ride, though...!"

"We'll bring you back in this same car tomorrow so that you can enjoy it. All right?"

There was a hint of warm amusement in Alfred's tone that served as the final drop of tonic to his tired, sun-baked brain. "Mmkay," he nodded, then dropped into a well-deserved slumber.

His dreams were of laughter, fine automobiles, and the particular flavor of freshly grilled hot dogs.

Author's Note: I will post pictures of the cars I was envisioning Alfred driving on my blog. I hope you enjoyed!