A/N I don't know why it never struck me before. Why have I not seen fic with Alfred and Martha? Maybe it is there and I just haven't seen it, or maybe people are afraid that so much awesome would destroy the world. But once I thought about it I had to have a fic with the two.

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"Thank you again for inviting me, dear."

Bruce gave a slight, courteous bow. "Ma'am, it is the least I can do. And don't thank me yet; if this person finds out Batman's secret identity too this won't be any safer than your home."

She smiled warmly at him. "I'm sure you boys will fix the problem before that ever becomes an issue."

"I certainly hope so." The billionaire gestured outside the little sitting room. "Could I get you some refreshment?" He was heroically restraining his impaitience, and doing rather a better job of it than her son. Martha rolled her eyes good-naturedly and reached up on her tiptoes to grab her son by the shoulders and gently turn him towards the door.

"You look about ready to fidget out of your skin, Clark. I can take care of myself. Just direct me to the kitchen and go do what you need to do." Bruce did so, already sliding into an intense problem-solving mode that both impressed and unnerved her, and Clark swept her into a always-careful bear hug before hurrying with his friend to parts unknown.

She was just getting aquainted with the very well-appointed and yet comfortable kitchen when a supremely cultured voice spoke up behind her: "Mrs. Kent, I presume?"

"Good heavens!" Startled, she spun around. Somehow perfectly in place in the humble surroudings despite his impeccable garb, the intruder stood redarding her politely; a neat dark-haired man about her own age. She recovered and smiled at him. "You must be Mr. Wayne's butler, Mr. Pennyworth." She held out a hand and took a step towards him. "Clark has spoken well of you."

He took her hand and bowed over it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kent. I hope Master Bruce has not abandoned you too abruptly?"

"Oh, no." The butler stepped back, still perfectly courteous, and she thought she knew where Clark's friend had learned his charm. "He has beautiful manners. And please, call me Martha."

"Thank you, Martha." His expression remained impassive, but his dark eyes twinkled. "You have perhaps met him at a fortuitous point. I fear that in the area of general politeness, he could learn a great deal from Master Clark. I have always found him to be the embodiment of kindness and courtesy, regardles of how...troublesome the situation might be."

They looked at each other in mutual approval.

Martha made a decision. "Would it be possible for you to allow me the use of your kitchen, Mr. Pennyworth? I don't enjoy feeling useless, and it's a guarantee that the boys won't think to get themselves food."

"Indeed. I would be happy to help you prepare something." He smiled suddenly, an unexpected bright flash. "And it's Alfred."

Bruce was annotating a map on the Cray's viewscreen and Clark was applying investigative journalism skills to a thick stack of folders when they were interrupted.

"Excuse me, sirs."

They both looked up and blinked to see Martha and Alfred coming up the ramp, both bearing plates and Martha looking around the cavernous space curiously. "Ma?" Clark said hesitantly. She beamed at him and set down her small burden.

"Hello, dear. We thought you would be working too hard, and so we brought down a little something."

Alfred set his plate down at Bruce's elbow neatly. "With some collaboration, I believe that we have come up with something that should be palatable to both of you." Clark was already investigating the contents of his dish, and Brude narrowed his eyes slightly at Alfred.

"Thank you, Alfred. And this is important, which is why we haven't gone upstairs. And don't plan to any time soon."

The butler's expression was very bland. "Of course, sir."

Martha wiped her hands on the apron that had been dug up from who knows where. "Oh, I hope you will come up soon, Bruce. I'm making fruitcake cookies." Clark perked up and Bruce looked intrigued despite himself.

"I can testify as to their palatability, sirs."

Martha smiled warmly at the older man. "Thank you, Alfred." She pulled a napkin out of her pocket and placed it pointedly near her son's plate. "I hope you boys will come up soon." Alfred offered her his arm and the two headed back where they came from. Their charges watched them go, and Clark turned to the Gothamite.

"I knew if they ever met a monster would be created." He ran a hand through his hair and laughed. "Bruce, I'm scared."

Bruce was lining up his utensils in preperation for eating, and raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Each to his own." He leaned back and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "For my part, I am planning how to use them on our opponents so that we can retire from this life of crime-fighting."

Clark spun his chair around and leaned forward. "And?"

The corner of Bruce's mouth twitched upwards. "And I'm scared."

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If you like it, tell me! If you don't like it, tell me why. If you agree that Alfred and Martha are awesome, write fic with them. :P