Author’s Note: This takes place directly after Season 2 Episode 13 of Gotham ‘A Dead Man Feels No Cold’. It’s my take on what might have happened when Bruce got home after Selina got that gun for him. Written for the ‘Merry Month of Mini Fics’ at the LiveJournal Group ‘spanking_world’.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, and I’m not making any money from this story.
Warning: Non-consensual disciplinary spanking of a minor by his guardian. I do NOT advocate spanking children in real life – only in fiction.
When Bruce got close to the mansion he took his hand out of his jacket pocket, and off the gun Selina had procured for him. He thought about trying to climb into his bedroom window, but if Alfred somehow saw him doing that, it would only cause more suspicion.
Guilt bubbled up in Bruce one more time. He’d promised Alfred that he wouldn’t kill the man who’d killed his parents. He’d given his word that he’d let Alfred do it. But that was a promise he never intended to keep, no matter how angry it was going to make his guardian. Bruce found it easy to set the guilt aside, because he knew he was doing the right thing by avenging his parents.
He held his head up high, and entered through the front door like he always did, praying that Alfred would be busy in another part of the mansion until he made it to his bedroom so he could hide the gun.
He scanned the foyer, and didn’t see his butler anywhere. Smiling with relief, he shut the door, and headed to the stairs.
Bruce winced as Alfred walked into the foyer from the study behind him. He put on a smile before turning to face the man. “Hello, Alfred.”
Alfred cocked his head to the side while scrutinizing the young man. Bruce forced himself not to cringe, swallow, touch the gun in his pocket, or say anything that might give him away.
Alfred’s demeanor suddenly changed, and Bruce’s stomach clenched at the suspicion he could see in Alfred’s face.
“Right. Let’s have it then.”
Bruce swallowed reflexively and tried not to stammer as he said, “Have what?”
“You look guilty as sin, and you’re standing at an awkward angle to protect whatever’s in your pocket there,” he pointed towards the pocket that housed the gun. “So let’s have it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bruce said in a panic.
“You have two choices, Master Bruce. You can show it to me, or I can relieve you of it. Which is it going to be.”
Bruce scowled, weighed his options, and eventually pulled the gun out of his pocket. He held it up for Alfred to see.
Silence stretched out between them for several seconds, and Bruce’s scowl faded. Alfred slowly took the gun out of Bruce’s hand, unloaded it, put the bullets in one of his pockets, and the gun in another.
“You gave me your word, Master Bruce.”
Bruce didn’t think he’d ever heard his guardian sound quite so disappointed. He couldn’t continue to look at the older man.
Alfred put a finger under Bruce’s chin, and gently tilted the boy’s head back. Once he had eye contact he said, “You gave me your word.”
Bruce clenched his jaw and then said, “I had to. If I’d told you that I was going to kill him no matter what you said or did, you’d have tried to stop me!”
The two stared at each other for a second, and then Alfred moved with surprising speed and agility. He sat on the steps, and yanked an unsuspecting Bruce over his lap.
After an initial gasp, Bruce said, “What are you doing?!”
“Giving you a right good smacking,” Alfred said before slapping his hand down onto the seat of Bruce’s slacks repeatedly.
“You can’t!” Bruce struggled wildly, dumfounded to find himself in this shocking position. When Alfred simply gripped him tighter and continued to whack his behind, Bruce yelled, “You’re fired!”
“Very well, Master Bruce,” Alfred said while continuing the spanking, “I’ll pack up as soon as we’re finished here.”
Grunting in pain, and feeling close to tears, Bruce kicked his foot in frustration. “Stop this right now! You can’t do this to me, Alfred!”
Alfred paused to say, “Yes, I can. Your father left very specific instructions for raising you. I can only interfere with your decisions if your life is in imminent danger, but there’s a clause about certain steps I can take if you lie to me or break a promise. He didn’t want you to turn into the type of man who doesn’t keep his word.”
With that explanation, all the fight went out of Bruce. His entire face heated up with shame at the thought of what his father might have said to him in this moment. He sagged down across Alfred’s lap as the smacks started up again, and tears started to run down his face.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce said softly, but with each passing second the pain in his rear end grew exponentially, and soon he was apologizing loudly through his tears. “I’m sorry! Alfred, I’m sorry! Ah! It won’t happen again!”
“It had best not happen again, unless you’d like another dose of this.” Alfred finished up with a few sharp smacks, and then waited a few seconds for Bruce to calm before helping him to stand up.
Alfred stood as well, and put a hand on the boy’s chin to force eye contact. “Don’t give me your word, unless you intend to keep it.”
Bruce nodded as he wiped the tears off his face.
Alfred let his hand drop, straightened his jacket, and said, “Shall I pack my things, Master Bruce?”
Bruce shook his head, took the step that separated them, leaned into Alfred’s chest, and hugged him tightly. Once he felt his guardian hugging him back he whispered, “Don’t leave.”
Holding the boy tighter, Alfred said softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Bruce found immense comfort in those words, even though he still was planing to kill the man who had murdered his parents.
(Feedback makes me happy.)