Fandom: Batman
Pairing: Bruce Wayne & Alfred Pennyworth [Platonic/Familial]
Rating: Teen
Content: Blood and gore, Graphic description of an injury, Hurt/Comfort
Date written: 26th December 2022
Summary: Bruce loses a finger during an altercation with The Riddler. He hopes Alfred won't be too mad.

Author's notes: Based on one of my own tumblr posts, as well as the tags in someone else's reblog of that same post ♥

There was no way of hiding it. No way to disguise it, and no way to pretend like it wasn't a big deal.

His finger was gone. Completely. Severed right at the base of his knuckle. All because of one of Riddler’s stupid traps that Bruce hadn’t even realised was there before it’d been too late.

Alfred was going to chew him out like nothing else. Bruce wondered if he’d ever be allowed to be Batman again. His kids would freak out. The media and social elites of Gotham would be in a frenzy because of their precious Brucie Wayne losing an entire finger. There was no way out of the stupid situation he’d gotten himself into without lying or making things worse.

And the worst part about it all? He wouldn’t even be able to get the finger reattached. The fucking trap had crushed his pinkie, making the remains of it almost pointless to get into a glass vial. It was all just flesh and blood and crushed bones. Bruce had thrown up a bit afterwards. It had not been a pretty sight. The mangled bits of flesh and bone had been hanging on by only a few pieces of skin which tugged on the rest of his hand painfully before he bit the bullet and excruciatingly cut the rest of it off with his batarang. It was not like the useless flesh had been doing anything for him at that point.

It had hurt. A lot. He never wanted to have to do that again.

He just hoped that when he got home, Alfred would take pity on him. Maybe he could bring out the puppy dog eyes he used to use when he was a kid. He wasn’t sure it would work on Alfred anymore, but he was willing to try it just this once. Certainly the circumstances called for it, right?

When Bruce had finally arrived back at the Batcave, and he’d taken his cowl off, he’d had a very guilty look on his face, mixed with a grimace due to the white-hot pain in his left hand. Alfred had been waiting for him, and while he would usually have an unimpressed or even unreadable look on his face whenever Bruce came back, it seemed his look of great pain had softened him a bit.

“Master Bruce, would you like to tell me what happened?”

“Um...”

Alfred sighed and walked towards him with a medical kit. “Alright then. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

Bruce said nothing as he sat down on one of the many gurneys inside the Batcave, clutching his hand to his stomach.

“I won’t be able to help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, Master Bruce.”

Bruce only managed a few words through his pain. “Hurts....my hand...blood...”

“Alright then. Let me see.” Alfred said, as he reached out and unfurled Bruce’s hand from being pressed up against his stomach. He gasped once he saw the damage.

“My god, boy! What on Earth happened?” He asked, as he quickly started taking Bruce’s glove off and assessing the damage.

“Crushed....Riddler trap...”

“If I see that wretched man in person I swear I’m going to-” Alfred didn’t finish his sentence. Bruce could only imagine what Alfred would to do to Nygma if they ever crossed paths.

Bruce started grunting and flinching as Alfred cleaned up the wound, and started stitching some of the skin together, before covering it in a bandage once he was done.

“You will be taking pain medication, and I will not be hearing any arguments about it. Am I understood?”

Bruce groaned in pain as he nodded.

“Good...”

It seemed like there was more Alfred wanted to say, but he left quickly to go get him some painkillers before coming back.

Bruce took two of the pills down with a bit of water Alfred had offered him.

“One of these days, my dear boy, you’re going to lose your life...and I won’t be able to stitch your soul back into your body.”

Bruce ducked his head at that. “I know, Alfred,” he said quietly.

Alfred just sighed and brought Bruce into an embrace. Bruce hugged him back as well as he could with an injured hand. “You worry me, sometimes.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

They were quiet for a few minutes as Alfred ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair in a comforting manner. It wasn’t often they got time to just...allow themselves to be father and son for once.

It didn’t last long though. Some of his kids had to be aware that he was already home, and so it wasn’t surprising when Bruce heard Dick and Damian coming down the cave stairs.

“Um...is everything okay? No one died, right?” Dick asked.

“No, no one’s dead, Dick.” Bruce replied. Alfred gave him a look.

Okay. Well. Maybe he wasn’t dead but the same couldn’t be said for his pinky. Which was definitely dead flesh by now.

“Father, what happened to your hand?”

“Um..”

Alfred sighed again, and turned to clean up the mess of bandages, needles and suture.

“Father! Your finger is missing!”

“His finger is WHAT?”

Bruce sighed. He probably wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.