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Breaking the rules always ended in misery, pain, or humiliation. Bruce knew what he was talking about when he told Tim not to do something or go somewhere, but Tim liked to push back on those boundaries.
Sometimes, it seemed to go well for a little while.
Tonight, for instance.
Everything had been going well for the first little bit. Sure, Bruce told him not to patrol solo. Sure, Bruce told him to stay out of Crime Alley. Sure, Tim knew that Red Hood would kick his ass if he found Tim snooping around Park Row, but, in Tim’s defense…
He had no defense, he’d just been bored and intrigued, and those two things were a terrible combination.
Tim knew that Jason Todd had been, in life, an omega. Tim had kind of figured Jason would be on heat suppressants like most other omega heroes preferred.
Jason, it turned out, was not on suppressants.
Tim glanced from Jason to the door. Could Tim get from the bed to the door and out before Jason could catch him? There were a half dozen locks on the door, and Jason was fast, but…
Tim swung his feet over the edge of the bed—
Jason spun with a vicious snarl, commanding Tim to get back in the nest without speaking a word.
Tim swung his feet back into the bed and hugged his knees to his chest.
The last time they’d met, Jason had beaten Tim half to death and left him as a message to Batman. Tim’s leg had taken two months to heal, and he hadn’t felt safe in Titan’s Tower since.
And now Jason was making him pancakes.
Well, Jason was making pancakes—they smelled good, too, and Tim was realizing exactly what Jason’s sweet, kind of baked-good scent had reminded him of. Tim just hoped Jason was going to share with him.
Or that Batman was going to save him, but Bruce could save Tim after the pancakes. That would be preferable.
Since he wasn’t allowed to leave, Tim watched Jason. Talking had been met with annoyed glares and silence, so Tim had dropped that.
Jason didn’t have the same controlled grace that Dick had in his movements. He moved more like Bruce, with a restrained force and strength that was obvious in every little move he made.
He was grouchy like Bruce could be too, especially in the mornings. If talking had been allowed, Tim would’ve suggested coffee. Of course, he had the ulterior motive of personally wanting coffee, but Jason’s mood would probably improve with a few sips too.
Jason was also built like Bruce and fought like Bruce. Tim had been quickly overwhelmed, unable to even set off his panic button before Jason had him fully restrained. Of course there was the subdermal tracker implanted in his arm, but Bruce would have to be actively looking to find Tim since Tim hadn’t been able to raise the alarm.
If Bruce noticed he was missing soon, that would be as great as it was unlikely. Bruce was away on a business trip in China and wouldn’t be back for at least another three days.
By then, Jason’s heat would likely be over…and quite possibly Tim’s life.
Tim really had no idea why Jason hadn’t killed him or at least maimed him. Tim was a young non-pack alpha trespassing in Jason’s territory. From their research, it was clear that the Lazarus Pit had left made Jason’s natural instincts much stronger than natural, so why had Jason dragged Tim back to his—
No.
NO.
Tim’s lips curled in disgust at the thought. Jason was an adult omega, Tim was a nearly adult alpha. Ugh, barf, no way.
Tim sniffed the air, relief rushing through him at the confirmation that there was no lust-scent in the air, just omegan sweetness and maybe possessiveness? That tracked, this was Jason’s apartment. Was it weird that Jason had brought Tim there? Yes. Did that mean Jason wasn’t gonna be defensive about his stuff? No.
Click! Tim looked up as Jason turned off the stove and approached the nest with two plates. Tim stared up at him in confusion for a minute before realizing that he was being asked to take the plates.
“Oh, yeah, let me—” Tim took the plates from Jason and received an appreciative nod in reply.
Jason went back to the kitchen and came back with two forks and a bottle of maple syrup on its own plate so Jason could set the syrup on the blankets without getting the nest sticky.
That indicated a level of forward thinking that wasn’t obvious from the way Jason was only replying with growls and grunting, but Tim wasn’t going to worry about that until he’d had his pancakes.
Jason was a good cook. Tim remembered once when he was younger, a fear-gassed Bruce had broken Alfred’s arm. Bruce had been sulking and self-isolating, and Alfred refused to rely on takeout, so Tim had followed Alfred’s instructions as best he could to help make dinner one night.
Tim hadn’t done a very good job helping; Alfred kept gently nudging Tim aside to do it himself until his injury reasserted itself and he was forced to let Tim help again. Halfway through, Tim was miserably imagining Alfred telling Bruce how bad Tim was at following directions (story of Tim’s life and quite possibly his death) and how miserably stupid Tim was.
Instead, Alfred had put an arm around Tim’s shoulders and given him his first ever Alfred-hug. Tim hadn’t understood how Alfred could be so forgiving till Alfred, choking up, had whispered in a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability that Jason used to help him cook.
Tim was pretty sure Alfred had been on the good drugs and hadn’t meant to tell Tim that. He didn’t know if he should never cook with Alfred again or if he should make an effort to try to be Alfred’s grandson like he was Bruce’s Robin.
In the end, Tim had settled for doing his homework in the kitchen while Alfred cooked. Sometimes, Alfred asked him to stir a pot while Tim did something else. Tim didn’t know if Alfred remembered what he’d said about Jason, but they never talked about it again.
“Good pancakes,” Tim said around a mouthful of said good pancakes.
Jason shot him a judging glare so familiar that Tim couldn’t help but think that he looked like Alfred. Funny how someone adopted could have such a stunning family resemblance to his adopted father and his adopted father’s adopted father. Really said something about nature vs. nurture.
Tim gulped down his pancakes in an unchewed lump that kind of hurt his throat. “Good pancakes.”
Jason rolled his eyes and ate his own pancakes by just stabbing the pancakes and bringing the whole thing to his mouth to nibble on all at once. Tim did the same thing, chuckling to himself that apparently the family resemblance also extended to your adopted siblings too.
Tim finished his pancakes and considered asking for more even though he was full. They were good. Instead, Tim passed his plate to Jason when Jason silently held out a hand and waited.
As Jason got up and went to rinse their plates, Tim stretched and casually asked, “So…can I leave now? Any chance of that?”
Jason shot him a flat-Alfred look. Tim was going to take that as a no.
Jason left the plates in the sink and crept back to the nest bed looking distinctly like a predator stalking prey. Tim fought the urge to run and held very, very still.
Jason climbed back into the nest, plopped down between Tim and the door, and started pulling off his jacket.
“Um, hey, Jason!” Tim’s voice rose an octave as he raised his hand to stop Jason stripping.
Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his jacket on the floor, then pulled off his scent blockers—wow, his room smelled that strong with scent blockers—and laid down with a yawn, apparently not taking off any other articles of clothing.
The sweet smell pouring off Jason now that he’d lost his scent blockers was cloying but intoxicating. Tim had heard of omegan scents being irresistibly alluring, usually in cheap action movies or romcoms. This was that but it wasn’t at the same time. Tim was in no way attracted to Jason, but he was pretty sure if he laid down next to Jason, he’d have the best nap of his entire life. Just Jason’s scent made him feel so small and sheltered and tired.
Tim yawned. “What’re you doing to me, Jay?”
He hadn’t meant to call Jason a nickname, but the latter half of Jason’s name had escaped him for a moment.
“Shh, puppy,” Jason muttered, raising a hand.
Tim flinched, expecting a smack, but instead Jason grabbed Tim’s arm and gently but firmly guided Tim to lie down. Tim didn’t struggle, but he did give Jason a funny look.
“Have you been able to speak all this time?” Tim asked, narrowing his eyes at Jason.
Jason had the gall, the unmitigated gall, to smirk. “No scent patches in the nest, baby bird.”
Dick called Tim that. Tim wasn’t sure if Jason knew that Tim called him that or if it was just the obvious thing to call the pack pup.
Pack.
But they weren’t pack, Jason had made that very clear.
Well, he’d made it clear, and then he’d captured Tim, thrown Tim into his nest, and now he was gently scenting Tim’s hair like a pack omega might do for their pup…or their sibling.
Tim glanced over at Jason, staring at his face till he caught Jason’s eye. Jason’s eyes were Lazarus green, blazing in a single-minded fury, but he wasn’t mad. At least, Jason wasn’t acting mad. He could’ve still been, but…
Bruce had said Jason’s instincts would be made much stronger by the effects of his bath in the Lazarus Pit. Maybe…maybe Jason’s pack instincts, in heat, had seen Tim and categorized him as pack-puppy instead of a threatening alpha in his territory.
Tim had never been in a pack with an omega. Both his parents and Alfred were betas, and Bruce and Dick were also alphas. Tim had hoped he’d present omega just so Bruce wouldn’t be so sad twice a year around when Jason should have been going into heat (Tim knew because he’d checked Jason’s school records and seen the excused absences) but instead, Tim had presented as yet another alpha for the Wayne Pack. Or the Drake Pack. Adjacent to the Wayne Pack.
“You’re sleepy, puppy,” Jason pointed out with a chuckle.
“’m always—always—” Tim yawned. “Sleepy.”
“Sleep, then,” Jason purred and snaked an arm under Tim’s shoulders, pulling Tim toward him so Tim’s face was near Jason’s neck. The saccharine protectiveness in Jason’s scent so close to the source just about knocked Tim unconscious. Ugh, had he been missing this his whole life?
But Tim should be getting home before someone noticed he was gone and started worry…
Jason rubbed his cheek over Tim’s hair, leaving his possessive scent on Tim just in case anyone wandered in and wondered who Tim belonged to.
Tim curled up against his pack omega with a wide yawn. “Well, if you insist.”