》The Ugliest Trait (Bat Boys • Reader)《

3. Good Afternoon

A/N: This chapter takes place weeks later. The previous ones were more of a quick  flashback (no one's in particular). We'll get back to that in the future, babes.

I decided to publish this despite not reaching my word goal whatsoever. I haven't updated in soooo long...

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Have you ever gone to sleep, knowing you have responsibilities that need to be dealt with? Yeah? Well guess which brooding billionaire decided to take a little nappy nap when he had work to be done.

He began to stir as the unforgiving sun was suddenly burning his face and mocking the welcomed darkness behind his closed eyelids. His eyebrows drooped and came together as he deeply frowned and tried turning his head away from the light. Bruce heard light footsteps moving from one side of his king size bed to the other before he felt the bed dip. His eyes fluttered open though remained unfocused on another person sitting in his bed.

"Good afternoon, Master Bruce," Alfred's voice rung in his ears like an obnoxious bell. He just wanted to rest, but of course Alfred had to—

Wait.

Afternoon?

"What time is it?" he tiredly grumbled, attempting to sit up. Alfred was already prepared for that question and held up an alarm clock that flashed 2:34 PM. Bruce scowled and threw the covers off of him. "Why'd you let me sleep in? Why didn't I wake up sooner?" he scolded both his close friend/butler and himself in two questions as he rushed to the bathroom to start—the rest of —the day. Alfred walked to the closed bathroom door and stood there, deciding to answer him. "You didn't return until 4 this morning and you refused to sleep so you could prepare for a mandatory meeting that you set up," he started, looking a bit unimpressed with the billionaire's previous actions. "So I slipped a lot of melatonin in your drink and cancelled almost all of your plans for today so you could rest, sir. I am still shocked that you weren't able to taste it..."

"You are fired," Bruce yelled over the running faucet, glaring at his reflection before returning to brushing his teeth. Alfred chuckled, knowing that he simply couldn't just be let go that easy. "You should be saying 'thank you,'" he teased, picking at dirt underneath his nails.

"Thank you? Are you—"

"You're welcome."

Bruce honestly couldn't even stay mad at the man. For once, he was admittedly well rested and a little refreshed. Thinking about what his schedule had looked like hours prior was stressful enough to make him tired again, but now he felt... better, knowing there was less on his plate. "You said you cancelled most of my plans?" he asked, putting his toothbrush down as he began to splash water onto his face. "All except paying that child a visit at the orphanage, yes."

He froze after hearing Alred's words through the door. That child that he spoke of-- you --was the same one that he encountered before her mother... he couldn't even think about what had happened to her that night without having to mentally relive everything that happened that night.

Bruce pitied you as you couldn't even comprehend that your parents were no longer going to be around to take care of you. In a way, you reminded him of... well him; except you won't have any memories of your parents even being around like he did. From what he knew, once the police took you away and gave you to a foster home while they searched for any relatives, you cried so much that it was considered unhealthy and even ended up being called The Devil by some of your foster parents. They seemed to forget that babies could get anxiety and be brats. The authorities found an uncle of yours, but he couldn't be trusted since he had been registered as a sexual offender in another city. So you ended up being placed in an orphanage until someone chose to permanently adopt you.