Title: pick me up
Prompt: Diana/Bruce, based off the Justice League cartoon
A/N: I'm not sure if I got the characterizations quite right, it's been ages since I've seen the cartoon and I used my bad memory and youtube clips. 😊 For the DC Exchange, for tjada-sees-the-world go round
Summary: A rare, disorganized Bruce. Perhaps it was a good thing Diana had ambushed him in his manor.
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"Your tea is impeccable as always." Diana sniffed her porcelain cup lightly, a light, florid fragrance rose with the steam. Tea was not a luxury they had on the island, but she had become fond of it all the same. "Flowers?"
"Jasmine, to be exact." Alfred smiled proudly as he set down the teapot. He was surprisingly spry for his age but living with Bruce, he probably had to be. She'd seen his handiwork with Bruce's wounds, for a butler this man had a lot of talents. "I thought you might like it."
"I can't imagine you'll make anything I won't like." Diana chuckled before taking a sip. "Mmm. As I thought. Impossible."
"You praise me too well." Alfred pulled out a pocket watch. "Master Bruce should be down shortly, he's done his morning routine by this point."
"He overworks himself a lot, doesn't he?" Diana asked wryly, knowing without asking just what time he went to bed last night. Or every night. While she could admire the work ethic, sometimes it bordered obsession.
No, if she were honest, it probably was entirely obsession. The Wayne dining room was as grand as ever, a wide room that could fit several dozen people at the table and more when converted to a dance floor. But that was only if people were invited, only if there were others in the room, and without the warmth of laughter and companions, the room was just imposing and cold. Sometimes she could see the little boy orphaned by his parents, alone in a mansion that was too quiet, too empty.
It was a feeling she understood only after leaving her island. A different type of isolation, but isolation indeed.
"He does." Alfred frowned. She could imagine this was an argument he had many times. "I can only hope one day he'll learn to take care of himself."
"That's what we're here for." Diana took another sip of the tea. "He's quite fortunate I'm a patient immortal."
"Patient?" Alfred asked, and she wondered what stories Bruce had told him. None of them good, she was sure.
"Mostly," Diana amended with a light shrug. "He does test it."
At the sound of steps, she looked at the entrance to the dining room, the hallway that lead to the grand staircase. After several minutes, Bruce Wayne walked in, dressed in a fluffy nightgown. Part of his persona, she assumed, it didn't really feel like something he'd wear. After scanning the room, Bruce didn't say anything, just stared her until Alfred cleared his throat. "Sir, breakfast is ready. And it is rude to stare at guests."
"Don't worry, no one saw me enter." She smiled pleasantly at him, all too aware of the source of his irritation.
"That is not the point," he grumbled, running a hand through his messy hair. Bedhead, as they called it. There was something disarming about how disorganized he looked, especially considering how carefully he hid that side of him from the league.
"I thought I'd pick you up for our shift." Diana continued innocently, as though this were a regular thing and not the first time she'd ambushed him. "Though you might want to hurry, Clark is already there."
He opened his mouth as though to say something before releasing a disgruntled sigh. "I'll be in the cave in ten minutes."
"Master Bruce, if you behave like that, she won't know you're happy," Alfred admonished, a teasing twinkle in his eye, and perhaps she had been wrong. This room had not been as quiet as she imagined.
"Alfred, I don't…" Bruce brow furrowed as he stared at his butler. After a few minutes, realizing the futility of it all, he turned to Diana. "Ten minutes. The cave."
And then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.
"He's a little shy," Alfred apologized, shaking his head sadly.
"Just a little," she agreed, stifling a giggle.