Disclaimer:  Dr. Leslie Thompkins and Alfred Pennyworth, along with 
everyone they talk about, belong to DC Comics, AOL/Time Warner and 
all those other folks.  I am using them without permission but no one's 
giving me money for this, TRUST ME.

Author's Notes:  This is sort of a silly little drabbley thing I wrote because 
I was skimming Coming Home and found the part where Leslie talks 
about rollerblading.  Many thanks to GenX for beta'ing this for me.  And 
for making up the title, which sounds like it *could* be a Meat Loaf song.  
But isn't.

The Rest Can Wait
By Smitty

"It's like riding a bike!" Dr. Leslie Thompkins called to the man struggling 
to keep up with her.  "You never forget how!"
	
"That would require me to have known how in the first place," her 
companion, Alfred Pennyworth, replied.  His posture was, as usual, 
ramrod straight and his arms were held stiffly at 45-degree angles from his 
body.
	
"Relax!" Leslie instructed.  "Bend your knees.  Lean over a bit."
	
Alfred tilted his torso forward and bent his knees marginally.  His feet 
slipped dangerously in their wheel-clad shoes.
	
"More," Leslie urged, widening her stance and sliding from a graceful 
backward arc to a stop.  "Shift your center of balance.  Rollerblading is all 
about adapting."
	
Alfred tilted and immediately began to wobble.  He thrust his arms out to 
90-degree angles and tried to straighten.
	
Leslie laughed and rolled forward, grasping his wrists and pulling him 
forward.  
	
"Come on," she instructed.  "I'll show you how."
	
"Perhaps," Alfred suggested tiredly, "I shall leave this folly to a younger 
generation."
	
"It's blading, Alfred," Leslie entreated.  "Look, I do it.  It keeps me young.  
I have to keep up with my patients, you know."
	
Alfred heaved a deliberate sigh meant to convey his length of suffering 
and the pains he undertook to please Leslie.  Somehow, it was more 
convincing when he did it to Bruce.  He set his jaw and gave a hard push 
with one foot, lifting it as if he were running.
	
"Not bounce, dear, glide," Leslie chided, demonstrating as she moved 
backward.
	
Alfred muttered something that about Leslie's predilection for 
exhibitionism.
	
"If you're going to call me a show-off, you should come right out and say 
so," Leslie said, laughing. 
	
Alfred just gritted his teeth and stumbled in an attempt to 'glide'.
	
"Ooh, careful," Leslie warned, reaching out to grab Alfred's arm, which he 
had been windmilling backward.  "Bend your knees."
	
Alfred pitched forward, catching Leslie by the shoulder, and swung them 
both around in an arc that turned his back to the grassy hill next to the 
sidewalk.  His blade caught on the edge of the path and the back two 
wheels sank into the grass.  Alfred fell back, his other foot flying out from 
under him, and fell solidly on his rear.
	
"Oh, dear, are you all right?" Leslie asked, resting her hands on her knees 
and trying her level best to keep the amusement out of her voice.  She'd 
used her grip on his arm to control his descent, but she suspected he wasn't 
in a position to appreciate her agility.  He'd nearly pulled her down on top 
of him, but had released her shoulder in time for her to regain her balance.
	
"Ahem, quite."  Alfred untangled his legs and carefully extended them 
onto the pavement.  "I find this somewhat ironic," he declared, looking 
around and trying to make himself comfortable on the small incline.
	
"Find what ironic?" Leslie asked curiously.
	
"Over the years," he said dryly, "I have made reservations at romantic 
restaurants, conducted elegant tea ceremonies, offered intimate drives in 
the country, and offered every romantic gesture I could conceive.  And 
yet, time and time again, you are the one who manages to sweep me off 
my feet.  Someday you really must allow me to return the favor."
	
"Oh, Alfred."  Leslie knelt next to him, going first to one knee, then both 
before sitting in the grass next to him.  She reached out and let her fingers 
sketch lightly over his firm mouth and chin.  She leaned close and kissed 
him lightly on the lips, the kiss of lovers who have long grown into each 
other's presence.
	
"'In the spring,'" quoted Alfred softly when they separated, "'a young 
man's fancy turns lightly to thoughts of love.'  Though not so young 
anymore, I suppose."
	
"As if that matters."  Leslie rested her elbows on her knees and regarded 
Alfred thoughtfully.  "I think married life is suiting Bruce beautifully," she 
said abruptly.  "As is fatherhood."
	
Alfred raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
	
"You do realize," he asked with a quick scan of the surrounding area, "that 
he still dresses up in that silly Halloween costume and listens to Miss 
Dinah about as well as he ever listened to either of us."
	
"Which is to say not at all?" Leslie chuckled.  "I don't doubt it.  Still, he 
doesn't appear to be chafing as badly as expected."
	
"He adores the children," Alfred added with a smile.  "In fact," he added 
with a little more thought, "he adores his wife, too."
	
"Yes, he does," Leslie agreed.  She cast a sidelong glance at Alfred and 
studied his profile in the silence that followed.  "Perhaps," she suggested, 
"he's finally become the father figure the boys have always cast him in."
	
"There was never a question that he could care for them," Alfred stated.  
"The problem was that he could never take care of himself."
	
"Maybe he's not getting better," Leslie sighed.  "Maybe Dinah's just taking 
over our jobs."  She bit her lip briefly, then smiled.  "Which may leave us 
with more free time than expected.
	
"And you intend to fill this so-called free time with skating lessons and 
other opportunities to laugh at my pratfalls?" Alfred asked in amusement.
	
"Well, there's always those dinners and intimate drives in the country," 
Leslie suggested, tilting her head almost coquettishly.  "Don't think all 
those romantic gestures were in vain, Mr. Pennyworth."
	
"Are you suggesting that a beautiful and brilliant doctor could still fall for 
a lowly valet such as myself?"
	
"Hardly lowly," Leslie replied with a snort that was neither beautiful nor 
brilliant.  "Alfred, we made choices years ago and we've stuck with them 
this long.  But when did we ever think we'd find Bruce married and 
changing diapers in the early hours of the morning instead of making a 
suicide run at Arkham?"
	
"Maybe in the beginning," Alfred said slowly, not realizing the question 
was rhetorical, "when we thought that maybe it was…a phase.  Something 
he'd outgrow."
	
"He was never going to outgrow it, Alfred," Leslie said softly, laying her 
hand on Alfred's shoulder.  "We couldn't give him a reason to slow down, 
but Dinah and the babies have.  He's their responsibility now."
	
"And that leaves us with each other?" Alfred deduced astutely, reaching 
out to catch a strand of Leslie's hair between two fingers.
	
"That's what I was hoping."  
	
Alfred's features softened and he leaned in to kiss her again.  Their lips 
met as they had many times over the years, but this kiss was new with 
promise--a pledge that they would come first this time around, not Bruce 
and not Bruce's mission.
	
"I think," Alfred said quietly as he withdrew, "this arrangement shows 
great promise.  Tonight?  Dinner?"
	
"Yes," Leslie breathed before breaking into a smile.  Her eyes twinkled 
with mischief.  "But if you want to sweep me off my feet, Mr. 
Pennyworth?"
	
Alfred raised an eyebrow.
	
"You're going to have to catch me first!"  Leslie pushed on her bent knees 
and levered herself upright.  She tossed him a saucy wink and took off on 
her rollerblades.
	
Alfred rose with a wobble and took off after her, with no more skill but 
quite a bit less reservation than before.
	
After all, sweeping a lady off her feet required a certain amount of 
fearlessness.  And pretty good balance, as well.

The End