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Batman Fic - A Touch of the Dramatic
Batman Fic
Wayne/Crane. Ohgod, it's been so long since I've written anything at all. Be gentle. <3

Basically for this fic I've broken it apart into four main pieces. Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer. But, then to make the parts smaller, I've broken them down into smaller parts. Easier to read. :D

Title :  The Four Seasons - Autumn : Part 1

Summary : Kind of AU. Crane is going through college and lacks the funds. He goes to see his old childhood friend to see if he can borrow some money off him in exchange for a service. This is before Crane is Scarecrow and Bruce is Batman.
Pairing : Wayne/Crane
Rating : PG, for now.
Words : 4776
Comments : LOVED.



It could have been a number of things that led Jonathan Crane to the gates of Wayne Manor. The weather, for instance. It was a was terrible evening, even by the standards of one who enjoyed a night of rain and wind. Jonathan's mind was heavy with the thoughts of the last week. It was so close to his second year of university, but as time passed slowly through his fingers he found that he was severely lacking the funds to continue on in his education.


Jonathan knew no one in Gotham, not since his parents had passed away a few years ago. They were the only family that he had had and even after selling everything his parents left to him, it barely covered his first year expenses at Gotham University.


After thinking it over more and more, Jonathan realized his choices were limited. He had tried for a loan, but had been denied since he had no supporting borrowers to co-sign his form. He hadn't found any bursaries that would suit his university course and money had been getting more sparse the more time he wasted looking for a financial benefactor.


It was a long shot to see if Bruce Wayne, Prince of Gotham, would even recall his name, let alone allow him to borrow money off him with the promise of paying him back after he graduates. Jonathan realized his choices and weighed them against his fears of approaching the front doors of Wayne Manor. It was only a bit of comfort in realizing that the front yard of the Manor, the lawn decorations, the fountain, and the narrow path back to the garden were all the same as they were when he would run around this yard as a child and best friend to Bruce Wayne.


It had been around fifteen years since Jonathan had spoken to Bruce. When Bruce's parents had been killed, Bruce had only been seven years old, and Jonathan himself was the tender age of five. Though Jonathan didn't realize it then, but the death of Bruce's parents had bothered him mentally as well. The idea of your parents leaving forever and never being able to see them again played through Jonathan's young mind night after night after he had heard of Bruce's parents' death. Ultimately it was what had pushed him away from Bruce and their playdates. The emotional disturbance was too much for him to deal with on his own at home, he was certain, with his vivid childhood mind, that the feelings would only intensify if he was closer to Bruce, and Wayne Manor.


Jonathan felt a twinge of guilt strike him as he walked past the front gates of the huge castle and walked up towards the front doors. He had left Bruce in the worst moment of his life to face the death of his parents; he hadn't a friend in the world during that whole dreadful time.


His footsteps tapered off as he stopped just a few inches away from the front steps of the mansion. The rain poured down hard and a low rumble of thunder was heard off in the distance.


What was he thinking? After how he had acted after Bruce's parents died, the only time he'd come back to see him was for money? Was he no better than the lowest scum in the lowest levels in Gotham?


'I deserve this,' Jonathan mumbled as his breath fogged out over his rain-spotted glasses. 'I don't deserve any hospitality that Bruce might have to offer. I should just go back to that hole I passed down the road and sleep there,' Jonathan thought harshly as he turned his back to the front door, but didn't manage to take one step away.


“Mister Crane?” A familiar voice called.


All in an instant, as tense as Jonathan's shoulders had been, they relaxed considerably as he listened to Alfred's voice, clearly with a tone of worry.


“We haven't seen you or heard of you in years, Mister Crane. What are you doing out in the rain?” As only Alfred could, he was out the door with a jacket in his arms. He draped it over Jonathan's shoulders and with just enough force to get Jonathan walking led him up the stairs and to the front door.


All the while Jonathan was in a momentary trance, happy to be hearing Alfred's voice once more but terror stricken with how the mansion got closer and closer the more Alfred led him to the front door. “I-I shouldn't-” Jonathan stopped right in the doorway, looking around with a nervous expression. “I'll call – tomorrow. I'll call Bruc – Mister Wayne tomorrow.”


“Nonsense,” Alfred mumbled as he gave a quick tug to pull Jonathan into the mansion and then shut the door behind him, shutting out all the cold and the rain that the poor university student had gone through. “It will be nice for Bruce to see at least one friend. Yesterday was another hard day for him.”


“Yesterday?” Jonathan whispered with a look of confusion.


“The anniversary of the ... unpleasantness that dwells upon Master Bruce's mind,” Alfred said quietly as he took the coats off of Jonathan and hung them up over a heater in hopes to rid them of their dampness.


Jonathan froze once more. How could he have forgotten such an important date? Suddenly the same sickness flooded back to Jonathan's stomach, a feeling he hadn't felt since he was five years old.


“I really think I should go, Alfred. I-I'm sorry, but-” Jonathan's train of thought came to an abrupt stop. Through his rain-spotted glasses he could easily make out the frame of the man he had seen the in papers at least once a week. The heir to Wayne Industries who had just finished University and was ready to take hold of the company his father had built. Jonathan always had a feeling that the pictures in the paper never did Bruce justice, and now with him only a room's length away, he knew he was correct in that assumption.


“Jonathan?” Bruce's eyes squinted together as if he had misplaced his glasses and couldn't see a thing without them.


Jonathan's heart leap up into his throat and prevented him from speaking. The most he could do was give a quick glance to Alfred and then back to Bruce, shrugging his shoulders and leaving his mouth agape.


“I'm glad to see you haven't forgotten your dear old friend, Master Wayne,” Alfred smiled as he took Jonathan's bag and helped him slip his shoes off. “Shall I have tea ready in the sitting room, sir?”


Bruce seemed to have had a brief moment of reluctance before shaking his head back to reality and nodding to Alfred. “Please. Thank you, Alfred.” he stood on the steps towards the back of the room which connected the room to the main hallway. He seemed as though he was unable to take the last step to join Jonathan on the floor of the foyer. Bruce was silent until Alfred had left the room to go to the kitchen.


“There's a fireplace in the sitting room,” Bruce offered quietly. “You can warm up there,” he tilted his head back and turned around and walked, a silent request for Jonathan to follow him.


Jonathan followed mindlessly. He was certain though, even without Bruce's help he could still have found his way to the sitting room and almost any other room he could name off. There still seemed to be everything in the same place, not one statue or work of art out of place from the last time he had been here fifteen years ago.


Bruce was silent as he turned left at the end of the hall and entered into the room. It was dark, all except for the embers that turned the walls of the sitting room red with their glow. As Jonathan entered the room he saw Bruce on his knees by the fireplace, poking at the embers to get them up to a roaring fire in order to warm the room and in turn, warm Jonathan's body.


Jonathan didn't have to be asked twice. He walked to the chair closest to the fireplace and sat down. He stretched out his boney hands towards the fire and wiggled each finger out, trying to wake up the frozen nerves in each little digit.


“I'd like to guess what brought you here,” Bruce started, “but honestly I can think of a few too many reasons.”


Jonathan tried his best to stay relaxed as he glanced up at Bruce, though keeping his hands outstretched towards the fire. He opened his mouth to talk but was silenced by a glance and Bruce's louder, stronger voice.


“It's either a pity visit, for yesterday. In which case you're late,” Bruce mumbled, “or you're here because of my inheritance.”


“I-I, Bruce, honestly-”


“It's all over the media now. I signed all the papers last month and Wayne Industries is back in the hands of a Wayne. All my parent's funds are back in my hands....” Bruce trailed off as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned up against the edge of the fireplace. “Or it's guilt.”


“Guilt?” Jonathan swallowed hard; that was a little too close to home.


“Guilt from - “


“Here we are, Master Bruce. Mister Crane, I do think that yours is three milk no sugar, correct?” Alfred asked as he came into the sitting room and set the tray of tea on an edge table near the wall and started to fix up two cups of tea.


Jonathan was shocked, though he made a mental note once again to never underestimate Alfred and his amazing memory and abilities, even when it came to remembering how someone wanted their tea. Even though he wasn't five anymore and not tricked by the 'I've got your nose' trick there were still many things that Alfred knew that many people did not.


“Y-Yes, thank you.” Jonathan smiled happily, feeling relaxed now that Alfred was back in the room with him.


Alfred smiled as he came over to Jonathan's side with his tea cup. “I see you've been catching up, you two. Little Jonathan, you've grown into quite a young man.” Alfred smiled as he patted his shoulder. “Bruce, you remember that picture of his in the paper? He made the Dean's List at Gotham University his first year.” Alfred smiled proudly down at Jonathan. “One of the top three, weren't you?”


Jonathan bit his bottom lip and flushed. “Well, it's all very technical, the way they grade our papers and add it all together, there were people much harder working than me and they didn't...” he mumbled quieter and quieter until his eyes met with Bruce's. The intense stare from Bruce made him feel uneasy; Bruce might have been the boy he knew from childhood, but he was much different now after those long fifteen years had passed.


“What class are you in?” Bruce finally asked.


“It's a branch of Psychology,” Jonathan answered truthfully.


Bruce nodded his head, then accepted the tea from Alfred and took a small sip.


“I had family in England who took a similar course at Cambridge,” Alfred smiled. “Very time consuming, not to mention expensive and hard work.”


Jonathan smiled nicely as he nodded his head. “Yes, it is all that here as well,” he said with a nervous tone as he turned back from Alfred to Bruce who was studying him with a whole new expression.


Alfred set the rest of the tea tray down on the table beside Jonathan's chair. “I will leave you both to catch up. I'm sure there's plenty that you'll have to talk about.” Alfred gave a bright smile before nodding his head and leaving the room.


Bruce gave it a few more seconds after Alfred had left the room before he spoke. “So that's why you're here.”


Jonathan blinked, setting his tea down on the tray to his side and watching Bruce. “I don't know what you're-”


“Don't lie to me,” Bruce warned, he too had set down his tea on the top of the fireplace. “Why else would you come here but to find a benefactor for your studies?”


Jonathan narrowed his eyes and stood from his chair. The line from being a good guest to being completely insulted had been crossed. Even though Bruce was right about what he had said, there was no reason for him to think such things. “What makes you think I'd want your money?” Jonathan snapped. “If this is what your money, Wayne money, does to people, I don't think I'd want a penny from you.” Jonathan staggered a bit, surprised that such words had come from his mouth. What was it about Bruce that sent him over the edge like this? It was just the same as when they were children.


I'm the same as I always was,” Bruce said clearly, convinced he was right.


Hardly so,” Jonathan whispered back with a venomous tone. His shoulders were taught back and his hands were clenching together so tightly he was certain that he would lose feeling in his fingers again. “This was a mistake,” Jonathan said as he turned and walked quickly from the room.


Bruce turned and walked through the sitting room a different way. He moved quickly and had managed to take another route through the mansion to cut off Jonathan in the hallway, standing between him and the door.


“Don't go,” Bruce whispered, holding his hand out just inches away from Jonathan's chest. His expression was still cold and sullen, and his voice spoke of no emotion.


“You treat me like a dog off the street looking for it's next meal,” Jonathan said sharply as he grabbed Bruce's wrist and threw his arm back at him, “and you still expect me to stay? No, there are many other places I could go.” Jonathan walked quickly around Bruce and stormed off towards the front doors of the mansion.


“Like the lower streets of Gotham again? The back alleys?” Bruce asked as he stood still where he was, his back to Jonathan. “I never did expect you to fall to such depths to get money for school,” he said in a surprised tone.


Jonathan had dropped his bag as soon as he had picked it up. His heart raced and he turned back to Bruce. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he snarled, clearly taken aback by the information that Bruce had somehow come to know.


“I could tell you what I saw, maybe it wasn't you,” Bruce offered the explanation. “Though, I don't know many other scrawny men with your hair, glasses, bright blue eyes. This guy's lip were a little more redder than yours though, like he'd been sucking on a sucker all day long.”


“Bruce, shut your mouth!” Jonathan shot a dark glare at his old friend. His whole body was tense, and he feared that with all the blood rushing to his head and the lack of air he seemed to be suffering from he would pass out any moment.


“I thought so,” Bruce said with a bored voice.


Jonathan removed his glasses, rubbing his forehead as he seemed to becoming dizzier and dizzier. “It means nothing to you.”


“It does when an old friend of mine is subjecting himself to such horrors and trials just to put himself through school,” the billionaire crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. “I'm sorry, but I don't care how many Dean's Lists or whatever you got your name on. You're still stupid in my books. You're still that five year old little kid who didn't know what to do without someone there to hold your hand.”


“Bruce,” Jonathan's voice was low, dark, with a gravely substance to it that didn't sound like himself anymore.


“You should know better. What would your parents think now?”


“Bruce,” Jonathan repeated himself, his voice getting darker and deeper. He stepped closer to the billionaire, his hands flexing by his sides and his breathing getting deeper and longer.


“Jonathan,” Bruce turned around, looking at Jonathan walking up closer and closer to him; he had crossed the foyer in no time.


“No, not Jonathan--” the college student hissed out between his teeth. He was only three steps away from Bruce before his fist launched out, just grazing across Bruce's left cheek bone.


Bruce stepped back, avoiding another shot, then managed to grab hold of Jonathan's left elbow, twisting it to hold him in place. “What are you doing, Jonathan?” Bruce asked incredulously. He couldn't believe that such a force had resided inside of his thin friend.


“Not--” Jonathan flinched, his elbow being twisted in a direction that it wasn't normally accustomed to, “-- not – Jonathan,” he managed to bark out through his pain.


With a quick twist of his body Jonathan twirled around, loosening the firm hold on his elbow and bringing himself with his back against Bruce's body. He gave a quick elbow to Bruce's ribcage and a forceful backhand to the right side of Bruce's face.


The billionaire stepped back, more in a daze from being hit by such a thin and scrawny man than from the pain of being hit. The next few swipes Bruce was ready for, he had switched over from friend to a man in self-defense mode.


A kick here, and a few swipes to his face there; Bruce caught them all. Jonathan's spirit continued to growl and shout, but his physical body grew tired and weak. Bruce caught a moment of weakness on Jonathan's part and tripped him to the ground on his stomach, holding him down with both his thin arms behind his back.


“Let me go!” Jonathan kicked and flailed about, turning his head to try and bite or headbutt Bruce, anything that would bring him pain. “Please! Let me go! Help me!”


“Master Bruce?” Alfred came running into the foyer, surprised at the two men. “You haven't behaved like this in years. Do I have to put you both in separate corners?”


“There's something wrong with Jonathan,” Bruce ignored the quip from Alfred and struggled with holding the young man down.




“Not Jonathan, right.” Bruce corrected himself, rolling his eyes and looking to Alfred. “He's not himself,”


“Well obviously,” Alfred said quietly, not sure if he should move closer to the crazed college student on the floor or give Bruce his space to talk to the poor man.


Jonathan flailed a bit more before resting his face down on the cool tile and lying where he was. He breathed heavily and rapidly, unable to catch his breath. “Oh Bruce,” he whispered to the floor.


“Jonathan?” Bruce checked, wanting to make sure if it was him and...not whoever it was earlier.


Jonathan arched his back up, his legs brushing against Bruce's thighs. “Oh Bruce,” he whispered again, even quieter.


Bruce stared down at Jonathan, not sure if he was back in his right mind or not. “...Are you all right, Jonathan?”


“Mmm,” Jonathan felt the ease and release of his arms as Bruce's grip loosened. He brought his arms back to the floor, palms down by his shoulders. “No...help me, Bruce, please,” Jonathan's whispers were faint and barely audible. His bottom lip trembled and his eyes watered, the fear of what had just taken over him was far too strong. “Help me, please,” Jonathan's cries were breathed out through his weakened throat, his head rolled back against the floor and his eyes shut closed.


“Jonathan?” Bruce asked again, his arms letting go of Jonathan completely to try to help him up from the floor.


In an instant, as soon as Jonathan felt Bruce's defenses fall, he quickly twisted and flipped over onto his back. He sat up and lifted a long leg and planted it firmly on Bruce's stomach, kicking him back far enough to give him plenty of room to get up and run.


Jonathan only managed to get up onto the balls of his feet and turn his head before a fist came across his face with a quick and strong force. Jonathan stumbled backwards, landing back on his one knee before fully falling over into a stunned state on the floor.


“Sucker punch?” Bruce couldn't help but smile at Alfred. It was just another moment where Alfred had proven to him that no matter what, he would always be there to assist him, be it with his enterprise or taming of temporarily insane childhood friends.


“Boxing in my college years,” Alfred said rather proudly as he knelt down beside Jonathan. He took a tissue out from his pocket and used it to wipe away the trail of blood leading from Jonathan's nose to the floor. “Poor boy,” Alfred said sorrowfully. It wasn't as though he had enjoyed using one of his old moved from his boxing days, but there was simply no way he would allow the poor crazed boy run around the whole Mansion in a fit.


Bruce rubbed his stomach as he stood and looked down at Jonathan sprawled out on the floor, finally he was completely unconscious and of no danger to anyone. “What happened to him?” He asked carefully, unsure of what sort of conclusion to even begin to form. “Is he insane? Is it even Jonathan?”


“Of course it's Mister Crane. Those eyes? They wouldn't be on any other lad,” Alfred sighed. “Something must have set the poor boy off into a fuss.”


Bruce frowned a bit as he kept his hand firmly over his own stomach, still feeling the sting of the swift kick Jonathan had sent his way. “We'll take him to his old room, upstairs,” Bruce offered as he leaned down and picked Jonathan up from the floor with ease.


As they walked down the hallway and up the stairs, Jonathan's arms and legs swaying on their own accord, Bruce thought back to what he might have said or done to Jonathan.


Of course, Bruce had not been very hospitable, but from all the evidence of why Jonathan had come to visit, he had no reason to act otherwise. All month he had had similar 'friends' coming out of the woodwork asking for money and other such things now he was back to the empire that his Father had built.


Still, Bruce reflected back on his words and realized that the way he spoke of Jonathan's late parents might have been a bit too much. Bruce bit the inside of his cheek as he furrowed his brows. He honestly couldn't blame Jonathan, if someone had said the same about his parents he would have done ten times the amount of damage.


Actions speak louder than words, Bruce thought. He had always realized that this was something that the media loved to see in practice and something that worked well when words did not. If he could not verbally tell Jonathan to not return to his work in the streets, then he would have to act to make sure his old friend did not end up back out there earning his tuition among other necessities. Already, Bruce had a few ideas that would keep Jonathan safe and able to continue his noble studies.


“I'll bring up a warm cloth for Mister Crane's nose and cheek,” Alfred offered as he walked down the hall towards the bathroom and started running the hot water.


Bruce nodded his head and walked into the old room where Jonathan use to stay when he spent the night at Wayne Manor. Back then it seemed to be nearly every week there would be one night that he would sleep over in the old mansion. Even though it had been fifteen years since Jonathan had stepped foot in Wayne Manor, Bruce hadn't touched a thing in Jonathan's old room.


“Bruce,” Jonathan slurred a bit, his lip already a little swollen having been bit on by his own teeth and cut open from Alfred's quick punch.


With a gentle shushing, Bruce rested Jonathan down on his old bed atop the covers and then sat down beside him.


“Bruce, I, I don't know,” Jonathan coughed, his voice raw from his shouting earlier. His hands reached up, looking for anything to grab on to so that he could anchor himself to the present realm and keep from receding back to the person he was only moments ago.


“It's fine,” Bruce said in a taught tone, looking back over his shoulder to see if he could hear Alfred on his way. He stayed still as Jonathan's hands wrapped around the edge of Bruce's dress shirt and twisted and pulled it until threads started to break and fray. “Don't worry about it, Jonathan.”


Alfred came back into the room with a small bowl of warm water and a cloth. He sat down on the other side of Jonathan's bed and pressed the warm cloth against the side of his face where the swelling was the worst.


Jonathan hissed in pain at the pressure, then slowly calmed himself and kept his eyes firmly tight. “I didn't – I mean, are you all right, Alfred?” Jonathan mumbled over his bad lip as he opened his eyes to look at Alfred, checking him for any marks of a fight. He had remembered seeing Alfred downstairs, and a look of worry on the old man's face, and he could only hope that he hadn't hit the poor man like he had Bruce.


“I'm fine, all except my hand,” Alfred managed a smile. “Now stop talking and let your mouth rest for a second.”


Jonathan and Bruce both looked to each other at that, blinked at each other then quietly looked away. Jonathan coughed slightly and closed his eyes firmly.


“Jonathan, what happened downstairs?” Bruce asked, very fixated on finding out the troubles and the problems that Jonathan might know the cause of. If there was anything that needed to be done to ensure that such an episode wouldn't happen again, he wanted to be the first to know.


Quietly Jonathan turned his head away from Bruce, shaking his head. “I don't really know,” he slurred again, wincing against Alfred's tender hands tending to his cheek. “It's happened once before,” he admitted.


“Why does it happen?”


“Master Bruce,” Alfred said quietly and sternly. “Let the boy sleep, he's exhausted,” he nodded his head at Jonathan. The college student's eyes were half lidded and he seemed to be in a state of a mild fever and looked as though he was in the process of overheating. His breaths came ragged and slow; he looked as though he was about to pass out once again.


“Don't think a moment more on what happened, Jonathan,”Alfred spoke to the blue-eyed man as though he was a child of five again, speaking in a calm and slow voice that soothed Jonathan more than anything else Alfred had done to help him.


Bruce stood up from the bed and opened the window, letting in a bit of fresh air. The low rumble of thunder was still heard long away and the pitter-patter of rain still came down in buckets on the windows and roof.


“You rest, and tomorrow morning you can talk to us, if you wish. Or you can get up and go if that's more comfortable to you,” Alfred patted Jonathan's arm and smiled to him. “Though, if you stay around you'll be treated to an old fashioned English breakfast. Just to let you know,” he grinned.


Jonathan smiled, his whole face wincing as he did. “Thank you,” Jonathan sighed out, his energy levels falling fast.


“Good night, Mister Crane,” Alfred stood up from the bed and set the bowl of warm water to the bedside table along with the cloth, all in Jonathan's reach in case he would need it in the night.


“N-night,” Jonathan croaked out as Alfred left the room. He swallowed hard as he realized he was left alone with Bruce, and the heaviness in the air began to set in again.


“If you need me, I'm sure you still know where my room is,” Bruce said quietly as he left the window and walked towards the doorway. “We'll talk more in the morning,” he said, not bothering to give Jonathan the same choices that Alfred had given him just seconds ago.


Jonathan sighed quietly. “...Night,” he whispered once again, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the pillow.


Bruce nodded his head and pulled the door shut behind him.


Tags: ,
Current Music: Baby, I'm Your Nightmare - Rage

12 comments or Leave a comment
67 From: 67 Date: September 18th, 2008 04:06 am (UTC) (Link)
*is so happy this fandom isn't dead*

Heyyy I like this so far<3 slightly CrazyCrane. Intriguing :3
indochinee From: indochinee Date: September 18th, 2008 04:08 am (UTC) (Link)
This fandom, it will never die. <3 I'll keep it alive!

Thanks though. :D Mmm, CrazyCrane is my special crack, I think. <3
67 From: 67 Date: September 18th, 2008 04:09 am (UTC) (Link)
I will do my best too *brave stance* YOU AND I. XD
indochinee From: indochinee Date: September 18th, 2008 04:10 am (UTC) (Link)
Us against the world! ...Or something! *stands bravely as well* XD
xx_mae_xx From: xx_mae_xx Date: September 18th, 2008 04:33 pm (UTC) (Link)
i love this! poor jonathan, oh how i love to read his angst. xx
indochinee From: indochinee Date: September 18th, 2008 11:01 pm (UTC) (Link)

Mm, angsty Jonathan is always nice to read, isn't it? <3
jmie From: jmie Date: September 19th, 2008 08:36 am (UTC) (Link)
Yes, people willing to keep the fandom alive!

I really, really liked this piece. I like the way that Bruce was done, not some push-over and with reason to be skeptical; I like that he wasn't sugarcoated and just because a lot of the focus for this chapter was on Jonathan, he wasn't favored.

I absolutely love the subtle implications Bruce made, lips red like sucking on a lollipop, riiight, a lollipop made that shade. Ha, I guess that's the point. That was my favorite part.

I like how damn useful Alfred is! And smart.

And I just like this piece in general; I'm looking forward to more. ;) (please?)

indochinee From: indochinee Date: September 19th, 2008 11:27 am (UTC) (Link)
Thanks so much for the comment. :D

Fanfics that are shifted completely onto Bruce are good if they're done well. I find a lot of them, when they focus on Bruce, lose sight of Jonathan and then it's like he was never even there from the start. Haha.

Yes...Jonathan would love to have you believe he likes those lollipops. ;D

Alfred? Is awesome. There, I said it. He's resourceful, brilliant and hilarious. I love this guy. :D

Annnd, look forward to more in about a day or so? I'm nearly about half way done the next installment. :D
tracker_lucifer From: tracker_lucifer Date: September 19th, 2008 02:54 pm (UTC) (Link)

Just wanted to say that I really enjoy this story so far. :O I'm curious on what will happen next! And poor Jonathan, already starting to show signs of crazy. I like the fact that you gave Alfred a part that didn't just include politeness. :D

Hope to see another chapter!

*gives a cookie*
indochinee From: indochinee Date: September 19th, 2008 05:49 pm (UTC) (Link)
Alfred is always in such boring roles, just to bring about food and clean up after Bruce. There's so much more to Alfred than just that. :D

*noms on cookie wildly!* Thank you! <3
xryanrainbowx From: xryanrainbowx Date: September 23rd, 2008 07:19 pm (UTC) (Link)
A new story! And its delicious!
*Off to read ch.2*
*covers mouth embarrassed and runs*
indochinee From: indochinee Date: September 23rd, 2008 07:35 pm (UTC) (Link)

Thanks so much for reading. :D I'm so happy people are actually enjoying my cracktastic writing.
12 comments or Leave a comment