Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason Todd had never experienced sickness like this in his life.

 

Not even during his time in the streets, the cold nights, the harsh dirty rooftops and alleys, eating expired mouldy food had ever left him feeling like this. The sort of sickness that leaves you delirious and rasping for breath, his body was burning with fever; every muscle throbbed, every joint ached. His stomach twisted in sharp cramps that made him double over even while laying crumbled in a tight ball in his bed, his breathing so hot and dry it felt like a punishment. Normally, Jason could push through pain, through exhaustion, through hunger, but this—whatever this was—seemed to pierce through every one of his defences.

 

He was sweating so much through his hoodie that the cheap mattress of his safehouse was soaked through making the experience even more uncomfortable. His hands trembled slightly as they brushed over his stomach, over his chest, the same ache following his neck, hips and thighs and the most painful to admit between his legs. Something about his body felt… different. His skin tingled in those places, extremely sensitive and sore in ways that he had never experienced before. The focus of the pain crushing his lower stomach like a boulder, his abdomen ached with a strange, cramping rhythm that made him hiss through gritted teeth. There was a strange energy drumming inside of him, he could almost feel his blood bubbling and hissing, a strange sensation that was extremely painful but also filled him with fear, it felt like something fundamental was changing, like his very DNA was shifting, a strange tension that was building and building into something truly terryfying.

 

For nineteen years, Jason had known himself in one particular way: strong, sharp, independent. The word Alpha even coming to mind. That’s what he had always believed he was—or at least, that’s what everyone had believed. That’s what he had needed to survive. In the orphanages, in the cold apartments he scavenged through, in the alleys and rooftops ,and even later in the league , he had learned to mask any softness, anything that might give someone leverage over him- Jason liked to ignore the blip in his life where he felt safe enough to trust, in soft bottomless beds, warm tasty food that was always at his disposal, large strong hands scenting him, a little robin clutching a dark cape seeking comfort . Whatever hidden vulnerability or softness was kept locked deep inside of him. Because soft meant weak. Weak meant prey. Weak meant death. Sometimes it meant even worse than that.

 

Yet, lying here in his feverish haze, the truth of the matter was becoming unavoidable. Jason was many things but he definitely wasn't stupid. Somewhere deep inside, a latent force—years of latent biology he didn’t know existed—was claiming him, changing him, unravelling him. Jason was unpresented. His body had never been properly “activated,” never been given the hormones, the instincts, the scent glands that defined an adult in their world. No desire, no cycles, no scent, no secondary traits. However, while he wasn't stupid he was stubborn and possessed the ability to dig himself deep in denial and stay there. So no, Jason was not going through a presentation rut or coming off the sickness of a presented beta. Because of this, he had been refusing to call for help, mainly because of stubbornness but also partially because of his recent fight with Bruce.

 

It had all started weeks ago, subtle at first. Exhaustion that sleep could not fix. Cravings he could not name. Sudden irritability, a flicker of weakness that made him snap at the nearest shadow. He thought it was stress. Food poisoning. Maybe just the consequences of too many nights in the city, too many fights, too many near-death experiences taking a toll on his body. It had taken a boiling point while on patrol with the big man and his bratlings, while him and Bruce had come to a truce and he could speak to the man no problem, mostly in costume since he refused to step foot in the cave and even more in the manor - no matter how many awkward invites from Bruce he got for family dinner he can most definitely say that he would rather claw his own eyes out.

They had just been about to finish up and he was eagerly looking around to escape from the debrief to avoid questions from stupid worrywart siblings and disappointed lectures from dear old dad about his subpar performance , his sickness had only seemed to increase from the past few weeks and had annoyingly decided to act up on the night he was teaming up with the bats for a big mission following numerous stakeouts. He had been sluggish during the fight, making stupid mistakes because his fever wasn’t allowing him to think fast enough or use his body to the fullest, he could feel piercing looks from Red Robin trying to figure out what was wrong and worried angry glares from Nightwing- stupid big alpha brother always thinking he could tell Jason what to do, still treating him like the little Robin he mentored and cuddled when he ran to his room after a practically horrible nightmare- that he was trying his hardest to ignore.

 

He's just about to sneak out when suddenly a large presence steps in front of him.

Bruce’s voice cut through the night, sharp and unforgiving. “You can’t go out like this. You’re a liability to the team.”

The words landed like a blow. Jason's immediate defensive reaction translating the words to you're weak. Useless. A burden. His teeth clenched and the fever pounding in his skull only sharpens the edge in his tone.

“If l am such a liability why do you keep calling me to work with you,” Jason snaps, shoving his helmet under his arm jerkily, his shaky muscles uncoordinated now that the adrenaline has crashed, the fever working overtime to completely humiliate him in front of the bat.

Bruce’s mouth was a hard line, eyes shadowed under the cowl. “Because l trust you enough to know your limits and to be a responsible part of this team, clearly l was wrong. If something is wrong you call it in not put the rest of us at risk.”

Jason gave a bark of bitter laughter that held no humour. “Guess it’s easier for you if I just sit at home and play dead again, huh?”

Bruce’s reply came flat, almost mechanical yet he somehow he still managed to sound dismissive in that way that always managed to fill Jason with uncontrollable rage. " Hood, stop being dramatic, come to the cave so Agent A can check you over, enough of this."

Jason’s chest tightened, panic setting in at the idea of being frog- marched back to the cave, and he spat back before he could stop himself. “Go to hell, B .” Then he was gone, cutting into the night before Bruce let out anymore words dripping with cold disappointment that would crush him.

 

By the time the rooftops swallowed him, he was already thinking of the one safehouse nobody else, not even Oracle, knew about—far away from Bruce, from the Cave, from anyone who thought they had the right to tell him what to do anymore.

The whole thing still filled him with bitterness so he refused to crawl back to Bruce for help, no sir, he would rot here in his safehouse first.

Jason hadn’t actually planned on holing up here for days , but the fever refused to burn out. If anything, it was digging deeper. His safehouse stank of sweat and something like metal, stale air clinging to him. When the cramps hit full force, he doubled over, biting the edge of his pillow hard enough to split the seam. It felt like something was clawing through his insides, pulling him apart molecule by molecule. The pain was so sharp he felt bile rising in his throat. He got up on shaky knees, basically crawling to his tiny bathroom, the cold tiles digging into his hands and knees, his blurry eyes only seeing the white light of the bathroom through an out of focus lens. He barely reaches the toilet before he started retching, vomit bursting out of his mouth making his throat hurt and eyes blur even more.

When he finishes, Jason rests his forehead on the cool feeling of the toilet seat and breathes out, his shaking body crumbled across his small bathroom. His body felt sticky and sweaty all over so that’s probably why he didn’t feel it while lying in bed, but here in his cold bathroom he suddenly realised his pants where soaked with a sticky substance. Confused Jason lifts his sweaty heavy head of the toilet seat and stares blurry eyes to his crotch. At first Jason just stared blankly, his brain lagging, because surely not, maybe he was hallucinating and he had just pissed himself, his blurry eyes mistaking why the entire crotch area of his sweats was stained a dark red.

 

Blood

 

His heavy breathing and the clock ticking was the only sound he could hear for a minute as he just stared, his thoughts rushing rapidly.

Internal bleeding. An organ failing. Maybe the Lazarus was unravelling and Jason was about to die here, in his lonely tiny safehouse, bleeding out in the bathroom floor. There was another option, an option truly terrifying that Jason refused to consider , because it was truly laughable to even think about, there was no way, no. Jason stared for what felt like hours before he finally took a deep breath and got up, he braced both hands on the sink, jaw trembling as another hot shiver wracked through him. Panic was starting to set in and it was not a good feeling with the state he was in, this was officially out of toughing out territory, Jason was stubborn however he was not suicidal, or at least not anymore. With shaky feet he rushed to the kitchen widely looking around, breathing turning erratic as true fear set in his chest like a brick.

His phone lay abandoned on the counter. For hours he had stared at it between bouts of fever dreams, refusing to touch it. He wouldn’t crawl back to Bruce. Wouldn’t give Dick the satisfaction. Wouldn’t hand Oracle a reason to start breathing down his neck again. But there was one more person he was willing to try, one who had never betrayed him and he knew he could always call for help. He never did, unless the situation was dire, like right the fuck now, he hated asking for help, hated leaving himself vulnerable in front of anyone, and right now, he was truly fucking vulnerable.

But Leslie… Leslie wasn’t them.

His hand shook as he snatched the phone up, thumb clumsy on the screen until her name lit up. He almost hung up before it connected, panic choking him worse than the fever.

When her voice came through, calm and steady, his throat closed around the words he’d wanted to let out. What tumbled out instead was ragged and unguarded:

“Leslie—something’s wrong. I’m bleeding. I think—I think something’s really wrong with me.”

The words left him raw. He pressed his palm to his stomach, heat radiating from the bone-a horrible deep ache, and shut his eyes tight against the rush of vertigo that had suddenly overtaken him. For once, Jason Todd didn’t have a plan. All he had was the phone and a voice on the other end telling him to hold on.

Chapter Text

Jason had promptly passed out on his bed after that truly embarrassing phone call that was sure to haunt him for the rest of time, along with every other horrible experience he had ever had - and the list was truly becoming extensive- when this was over. For what felt like hours Jason's heavy rasping and that stupid clock he was going to smash into tiny little pieces when he stopped feeling like an overcooked punching bag was the only sound that could be heard in the safehouse, until finally the lock clicked open.

His head felt like it weighed a ton, fever dragging him under heavy waves of pain and drowsiness, but the scent that cut through the suffocating haze snapped his eyes open. Rained soaked grass with a hint of lavender. Leslie.

“Jesus, Jason,” her voice dropped, firm but steady, but he could hear the slight edge of disbelief in her tone, and he blinked blearily at the sight of her medical bag hitting the floor. She crouched beside him, eyes sweeping his too-pale face, the sweat soaking his hoodie, the faint tremors rushing through his body, the blood staining his sweats. But it wasn’t what she saw that had her choking back a gasp, eyes widening in true shock — it was what she smelled.

Leslie had been Jason's only doctor since his infamous debut as the Red Hood- since longer really, she had treated Catherine at her clinic and a younger Jason since he was baby before being adopted by Bruce Wayne. It had taken her finding him bleeding out in an alley after a particularly nasty fight with Black Mask before she finally managed to convince him to see her regularly. And what she had found truly had shocked at her at the time, Jason freshly eighteen, was unpresented, this had floored Leslie, as a medical professional she knew that the latest someone could present was fifteen and the earliest seven. She had known that malnutrition would hinder Jason but with Bruce's help and the pit she had assumed he had presented already along with everyone else. When she had questioned Jason about it she had been met with his trademark blasé attitude that never failed to truly irritate her as well as make her worry, Leslie had found out that while Jason masqueraded as an Alpha, he was truly content and comfortable being unpresented for the rest of his life.

 

Leslie, however, knew better.

 

Health wise being unpresented for that long would cause problems in the future, unknown and unpredictable problems. No one had ever actually lived a full life to elderly age without presenting, she knew this, there where cases of late presentations like Jason, in fact it wasn’t super rare, however people would usually undergo a diagnosis and would receive some sort of hormone therapy. Jason, she knew, would completely reject that, he was perfectly happy living a dangerous life unpresented and didn’t want any help in the matter no matter how much she pestered him.

 

However, it looked like she didn’t have to worry for much longer.

No masking strip in the world, not even bat style military grade ones could cover the deep, heavy musk of presentation rolling off him. Not sickness. Not fever. But presentation haze. However, today it seemed like Jason was trying his hardest to make her pass out from shock because that addictive sweetness could only mean one thing.

Jason had been a sweet kid, she hadn't really known him as much as a teenager once Bruce stopped calling her for the numerous extensive check-ups he was convinced Jason needed when he first got him at the age of ten, but she had known him as a small child. Admittedly, when he was younger Leslie was secretly convinced he would present Omega, she knew professionally that stereotyping a child was wrong and there was no behaviour that could get you to guess what caste a child would present as, Alphas weren't naturally assertive and tough from the get go and omegas where not born submissive and gentle, but Jason, God Jason. He had been adorable, giggly and sweet and yes gentle, a fragile gentleness and sensitivity that was truly outstanding- a sensitivity that she knew still existed under that tough cold exterior Jason worked tirelessly to uphold, everyone who truly knew him was always hit full force with that painful sensitivity, all those huge emotions that seem to have grown and couldn’t even be contained by a six feet two hundred pound of muscle being- that she couldn't help but be sure at the time.

It's not like there is actually anything wrong with presenting Omega, in fact some might even be happy about it, Omega's where a point of pride of a pack, the very heart and centre of it, they were cherished and protected and perhaps a little babied, in the right circumstances people would be happy to present Omega. But god Jason had not seen the right circumstances, he'd seen the very worst, lived through the very worst and Leslie almost wished she hadn't come, that she wouldn't be the one to break this news to Jason. Perhaps, back when Jason was younger and Catherine was healthy and loving, Jason wouldn't have minded being an Omega like his mother, would have even been happy about it.

But that was then, and this was now.

Leslie kneeled next to the bed and pressed cool fingers to his wrist, feeling his pulse race like a trapped bird. “You’re burning up,” she murmured, slipping an IV needle into his arm with practiced ease. She bought herself a moment — because she couldn’t quite believe what her instincts were telling her.

Jason’s eyes cracked open, bloodshot, and unfocused. “You’re looking at me like I’ve grown a second head,” he rasped. “What’s wrong Doc?”

Leslie hesitated, longer than she should have, because saying it out loud would make it real. But her patients never needed sugarcoating — especially not Jason. She steadied her voice. “Jason… you’re not just sick. You’re presenting.”
Jason froze. His whole body locked up, breath stuttering in his chest as though she’d just said something obscene. He blinked once, twice, the fever haze flickering against his confusion.

"Ok, ok, l never actually though-.” His voice was rough, a rasp scraping his throat as he cut his words off. “I guess l sort of knew already, so is it a presentation rut or beta sickness. Which is it.” He let out a shaky laugh that frankly sounded terrified. Silence descended through the safehouse as Leslie didn’t answer right away. Her silence was sharp, deliberate, and Jason’s chest tightened with something ugly, God this was truly the worst experience of his life, it might even beat getting his shit fucked by the Joker. Leslie's silence was telling Jason that something was wrong, he could just feel it, fear was starting to rise up in chest and he hate it, he truly fucking hate it, presenting was drawing up to be as horrible as Jason always knew it would be, shaking up his control and leaving him unsure, scared, and when Jason got scared he got cagey, angry and defensive in the face of uncertainty.

He snapped, truly annoyed and done with this fucking situation, he was starting to feel hotter somehow and his patience was being stretched thin. “What,” he snarled, voice harsh, too loud in the small space. He forced himself upright, muscles trembling, IV pulling against his arm. “Tell me what's wrong, Leslie. Don’t just stand there looking stupid.”

Her expression didn’t waver, though her eyes softened the barest fraction, something like sympathy shining in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was the usual steady, firm, and mercilessly calm tone that always managed to relax him, because Leslie was always going to tell it like it is and Jason could trust her. “Jason. You’re not in a rut or beta sickness. You’re presenting as an Omega. Right now.”

Time stopped, froze completely around Jason, or maybe it was Jason that was suddenly deathly still, he couldn't tell, it seemed like the world dropped out from under him.

No, no, no, no, no, no, NO.

It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t true. He’d built himself from the ground up, bone and scar and grit, clawed his way into being something sharp, untouchable. Alphas carried authority; Betas blended in; and Jason, he'd bled and struggled until he could carry his own authority, could maintain his control and autonomy that always seemed like it was trying to get taken away from him, in the Alley, as Red Hood, and Omegas—Omegas were owned. Always owned. Their fathers, their pack alphas, their mates, someone always had a claim. They were nothing but glorified sex toys or toys that showed up by their Alpha's, breeding cattle, property.

Jason Todd was not property.

His stomach twisted with memories he couldn’t bite down fast enough—his mother, too fragile and too dependent, shrinking under the weight of Willis Todd, or her dealer, or any Alpha in her life, who thought they had the right to her. Omegas with sweet smiles and hollow eyes, praised like delicate glass and treated like punching bags behind closed doors. The kind of infantilizing pity that made Jason want to set the whole system on fire.

And now it was him.

He could feel the phantom weight already, chains settling where he’d fought his whole life to break free. If Bruce found out—if the Pack Alpha knew—Jason would be shoved into a role he’d fought tooth and nail to reject. No more Red Hood, no more independence. Just an Omega slotted into whatever box they thought he fit, underestimated, patronized, kept. It would finally give Bruce the excuse he needed to stop him, to take Red Hood from him.

Or maybe he wouldn't even care.

Jason shuddered, ignoring that snapping nasty though that was almost worse than the first one.
No. He couldn’t let them know. Not Bruce. Not Dick. Not anyone.
His pulse thundered in his ears, breath catching like he was drowning in his own skin.

“Jason.” Leslie’s voice broke through the spiral, soft but insistent, cutting across the chaos building in his head. Her hand was steady where it pressed against his shoulder, grounding him, refusing to let him drift off the cliff and gently laying him back on the bed.

“Panic is not going to help you right now,” she said firmly. “You’re not losing yourself. You are still you. This doesn’t erase everything you’ve fought for. But you need care, Jason. You need help if you’re going to get through this in one piece, this isn't as horrible as you're thinking Jason, there are millions of happy Omegas in the world, pull yourself together.”

 

The words slammed into him harder than any bullet. For a second, he couldn’t breathe. His chest heaved, heart thrashing against his ribs, a cold panic drowning out the fever heat. “No. No, you’ve got it wrong.” He shook his head, trying to push himself upright, IV tugging at his arm. “I’m not— I’m not one of them.”

Leslie kept a steady hand on his shoulder, grounding. “Your body says otherwise. The fever, the bleeding, the organ changes—it all lines up. I haven't checked you over just yet, but anyone could know just by smelling you, Jason. You know I wouldn’t lie to you, you’re tougher than this, calm yourself.”
Jason’s chest heaved, breath coming too fast, too sharp, but then something familiar clicked into place. The part of him that had survived homelessness, guns, fists, the Pit, death itself. The part that knew how to shove the panic down deep enough to breathe through it.

His jaw clenched hard, teeth grinding. Then he stilled, forcing himself back against the mattress with a low hiss of breath. His hands shook, but his voice came out rough and steady.

“…Fine. Doesn’t matter what you call it,” he muttered. “I can deal with it. I’ve dealt with worse. Nobody needs to know. I can hide this.”

It wasn’t convincing, not even to himself, but it was all he had.

Leslie’s eyes softened, though her hand stayed firm against his shoulder. “Jason. This isn’t something you can power through.”

He gave her a flat look, cold as steel despite the sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. “Watch me.”

But Leslie only shook her head, calm and immovable. “You’re coming with me to the clinic. You need to be stabilized, tests need to be done, plans need to be made. I won’t argue with you on this.”

Jason opened his mouth, ready to argue anyway, but the weight of her tone, the unyielding authority in her steadiness, dragged the fight out of him. He let out a bitter laugh, coughing halfway through.

“Fine,” he rasped. “Clinic. But only because you’d probably tranquilize me otherwise.”
The next thing he knew, the world had blurred into darkness and then sharp, white light. He blinked groggily, the scent of antiseptic and clean sheets burning through the haze. He was lying on an examination table, wires trailing from his skin, IVs steady at his arm, he always naked, a blank covering him chest to ankles. Leslie was there, scribbling notes at her workstation, her expression intent but calm.

 

“Welcome back,” she said without looking up.

Jason groaned, shifting—and froze. His body felt wrong. Different. His chest was sore, heavier. His stomach felt tender, pulled in strange ways. His hips ached. Even between his legs—

He stopped that thought dead. His jaw locked tight.

Leslie finally turned, meeting his eyes. “You’re stable for now. The fever’s breaking. But Jason… your body is still adjusting.”

“Adjusting.” His laugh was sharp, ugly. “That’s one way to put it.”

She ignored the bite in his tone, flipping through his chart. “You’re presenting late. Much later than average. That’s because of something called Hormonal Arrest Syndrome—HAS. It happens when extreme childhood trauma or prolonged stress forces the body to suppress its natural development. The Pit only complicated things further. Your biology’s been… on pause. Until now.”

Jason stared at her. “So what, my body just decided to wake up one day and screw me over?”

“It’s not screwing you over,” Leslie corrected, voice calm. “It’s catching up. Finally doing what it was always meant to. Painful, yes. Annoying, maybe. But not broken. Not wrong.”

Jason’s fists clenched against the blanket, knuckles white. He didn’t answer.

Leslie pressed on. “Jason, you’ve officially presented as Omega. That’s not going to change. And you need to understand—without Alpha support, your system won’t balance out. Your hormones, your cycles, your health—they will eat you alive if you try to handle this alone. You now need so many things that only an alpha, a pack, can provide, you need to stabilize your already weak bonds. You've practically been a puppy this whole time, without strong healthy pack bonds you could die.”

His head jerked toward her, eyes flashing. “I don’t need an Alpha. I’ve gotten this far without one.”

“Barely,” she shot back, just as firm but not unkind. Then softer, “And you won’t survive without it now.”

Jason’s throat worked, but no words came. He could feel the new weight in his body, the way his skin seemed to hum under his fever-broken sweat. The way every nerve screamed at him that something fundamental had changed. He felt like he was going to break out in hives, his skin humming, sensitive and tender asking him for something he didn't want to give, his chest ached something fierce and he didn’t understand why. He could feel what must be scent glands forming along his neck—new, raw, and throbbing. More pressed against his wrists and notably his hips, the ones only omegas carried. He’d always been curious about scent glands, maybe even a little envious of them. He remembered Bruce, or his mother, or even Dick, wrapping him in embraces, pressing their scents into him until he reeked of belonging. Loved. Owned. Every morning Bruce would send him off to school carrying that scent, and maybe—just maybe—that was the only part of this whole mess he ever liked. He grimaced now, squeezing his legs together, caught between noting the absence of an organ he'd always had and noticing the unfamiliar ache of a new one. Something pulsed, damp and sticky, and horror flooded him as he realized—it was slick.

Leslie’s tone gentled again, and he snapped back to her desperately shoving down his terrifying thoughts. “I know what you’re afraid of. That being an Omega makes you weak. Owned. That it strips you of who you are. But Jason, you’re still you. This doesn’t erase everything you've done, being Robin, or the Red Hood, or everything you’ve fought for. This just… adds another layer to who you are, and it doesn't have to be a bad thing, now that this has happened, no point in being miserable, being an Omega isn't as horrible as you're making it out to be, you can be happy with this if you try.”

He didn’t respond, staring at the wall like it might open up and swallow him.

Leslie studied him for a long moment, then made a decision. “I’m not calling Bruce. Not yet.”

That snapped his attention back to her.

“But I am calling Dick,” she continued. “Because you need someone in your corner, and you need an Alpha presence, whatever complicated feelings you have, Dick loves you and l can trust he'll give you what you need and force you if necessary. He’ll come. And he’ll keep this quiet until you’re ready.”

Jason swallowed hard, something fragile flickering across his expression before he slammed it back down. “…Tch. You’re manipulative as hell, Doc.”

Leslie only gave him a small, knowing smile. “And you love me for it.

 

Chapter Text

Dick had just finished a pretty calm patrol and had been messing around in his safehouse in Gotham when he got the call.

 

He hadn't believe a word out of Leslie's mouth as he rushed to get dressed, hadn't believe her as he jumped in his car, and he most defiantly didn't believe her as he stepped in her clinic. Why would he believe her, it was completely ridiculous. He would have known if Jason hadn't presented this whole time, he would have been able to smell that sweet comforting puppy milk that still wafts off Damian, even if said puppy acts like thirty year old man with taxes, he would have known, he was sure of it.

Expect no he wouldn't have because Jason is a neurotic little freak.

Dick scowls as that particular though rushes through him, fondness and annoyance waring in his chest, Jason is worse than Tim when it comes to being controlling and paranoid, but only towards his privacy, everyone knows Tim is second only to Bruce. He's always wearing scent patches, and scent inducer's when they force him to hang out - everyone as a trained bat, was able to pick out that Jason's usual scent of amber and pine, as well as that muskiness that only alphas have was artificial- masquerading as an Alpha, but he had just through Jason was a Beta, and liked to keep his real scent a secret because of how paranoid he was, Dick had though that Jason would eventually trust them and get comfortable enough to take them out, it was a gradual process after all, to learn to trust. How stupid he'd been, turns out Jason was just hiding a dangerous secret about his health, and Dick should've pushed harder.

Unfortunately, tonight is just a gift that keeps on giving, because that's not the most shocking part of Leslie's phone call.

The clinic smelled sharp and sterile, antiseptic clinging to the back of Dick’s throat. He’d always hated that smell, it had too many negative connotations, his friends and family bleeding out, almost at deaths door, despair and hope slowly draining out of his body, white walls blinding him and making him feel numb, he much preferred the darkness of the cave to the white of the clinic or a hospital, it was strangely comforting.

Dick's head was fuzzy, he was sweaty, and his throat hurt when he tried to swallow the panic and disbelief caused by Leslie's phone call. He just couldn't believe it, he couldn't believe it as things where now, he could have believe it before Jason's death, in fact, when Jason was younger, he was completely sure he would present Omega, he could tell Jason was gearing up to present, right before his death, a bit late but that was to be expected because of his past. Even Bruce and Alfred had been sure, no matter how much they denied it, how much they lectured Dick about how it is wrong to guess someone's caste off of behaviour, and that he better not mention it to Jason - which he obviously wouldn't have, he wasn't stupid- he'd seen them sneaking around preparing nesting materials and omega clothes and supplies. Jason hadn't been aware, but when kid's prepare to present sometimes they emit behaviour cluing their pack of what their secondary gender would be, Jason had been incredibly sensitive, getting angry and yelling and then crying the next second, he'd do that thing where he'd stick close and sneak glances because he wanted to be scented or wanted a cuddle but he would never ask, and Dick would happily oblige, God, Jason had been practically begging to be scented close to his death, stinking of protective Alpha stink, of owned and loved, Dick had loved it - and so had Bruce, but obviously he couldn't just say that. He'd been clingy and sweet and so desperate to please his Alphas it had been glaringly obvious. Dick as an Alpha, had hated scenting just before his presentation, hated having to listen - obey- to Bruce, had wanted independence and to be respected, which had kickstarted the problems between him and Bruce at the time, with Bruce not letting go, and Dick needing him to let go, to settle in his own dominance.

Jason had been the opposite, and it had been so disgustingly clear what it would be, that that's why he thinks him and Bruce had such a horrible time after his death, they knew what they had lost, how important it was.

 

Dick braced himself before he turned the handle, taking a deep breath and forcing his shoulders to uncoil, not wanting Jason to misunderstand , to spook him away, because he knew that there was a fight waiting for him behind the door, and he was more than ready to fight it, but first he had to appear calm, open and friendly.

However, nothing could have prepared him for the wave that hit him the second he cracked the door open.

A sweet blend of soft vanilla and sweet, rich caramel, with the sharp tang of sour green apples, which added just a bit of sharpness to the edge, perfect for its new owner. Warm, raw, untampered. It spilled out of the room like a flood, heady and disorienting, sinking deep into his bones before he could stop it. Freshly presented Omega—soft, vulnerable, sharp with panic and remains of what he was sure had been a nasty presentation fever but threaded through with something achingly sweet. It was Jason, but not the Jason he was used to now. Not the sharp steel tang of gunpowder and leather he’d come to expect, with the tight control and sky-high walls Dick had just been beginning to crack. No, this was the force of what laid behind those walls, wild vulnerability and fear, a gentleness Jason seemed to never be able to escape no matter how much he screamed and pushed people away, this was raw and real and exactly what Dick had craved to see since Jason had first come back. A fragrance that screamed mine to every Alpha instinct in his body, which screamed pack, and younger brother and protect. Omega.

And then his eyes landed on him.

Jason sat on the bed, shoulders squared, but there was no mistaking it—his body had changed. The lines of him were subtly different, softened in places, new curves under his blanket that hadn’t been there before. His face looked altered too, like the harshness that grief and rage had carved into him had been blurred at the edges, leaving him younger, almost fragile, showing his true age. His lips were fuller, his eyes too bright in the fever flush, pupils blown wide.

For a moment, Dick’s heart stuttered. He’d expected—God, he didn’t even know what he’d expected—but not this. Not his little brother transformed into the very thing Dick had once been so sure he would be. Not the proof that all those unspoken instincts, all that unacknowledged preparation, had been right all along. Bruce was going to flip.

He stood frozen in the doorway, the scent and the sight of Jason hitting him like a punch to the gut, scrambling his thoughts. He had to lock his knees to keep from moving toward him, from scenting him, from claiming—

Jason’s head snapped up, blinding bottom less, sky blue eyes narrowing- eyes that had once held a poisonous green, that he was so glad was gone. The glare was pure Jason, sharp enough to slice through Dick’s daze.

“Well,” Jason said, voice rough and defensive, “look who decided to show.”

The words snapped Dick out of the haze like a slap. Instinct so strong and wild screamed at him to close the distance, to drag Jason into his arms, scent him, hold him together before he shattered completely, instincts he'd never had this strong before, because he'd never an omega that was in pack, that was his. Dick had to clamp down on the sudden flare of excitement and Alpha smugness, before Jason smelt it and decided to jump him. He squeezed his hands into fists and didn't step closer to Jason, because instinct wasn’t strategy. And Jason didn’t want comfort. Not like that. Not right now. This is something he hated about Jason, how instant care and softness made him rage, made him panic with the need to get away. To get close enough to comfort Jason, one had to be firm first, even a little mean, you had to startle him before you snapped in and trapped him so he couldn't escape, Dick had done this song and dance with Jason for years, so he ground his teeth together and took a deep breath.

Dick locked it down. Shoulders square, jaw set, he stepped into the room without letting his eyes soften. He didn’t go to Jason—he went past him, straight toward Leslie. He could feel Jason bristle behind him, like a stray cat arching its back, but that was fine. Let him be mad. Better mad than cornered. Let him be mad enough he gets sloppy, makes it easier for Dick to catch him, besides, he needs answers Jason wasn't going to give to him.

“Explain. Everything,” he said, voice clipped but even. He needed facts before feelings, or this whole thing would spin. He needed to understand, why was Jason presenting this late, was something wrong, what did Dick need to help him.

Leslie nodded. “Jason's finally presented, as an Omega, completely unexpected but that doesn't matter now, however it was too delayed. What you’re seeing is late HAS—Hormonal Arrest Syndrome. Due to his childhood trauma, extended stress, and the extreme conditions he lived through—including the Pit—his body essentially put a pause on his natural development. His secondary characteristics and hormonal cycles were suppressed. It’s why you haven’t seen this until now.”

Dick’s brow furrowed, processing. “So… his system just… waited?”

“Yes,” Leslie confirmed. “Until his body felt safe enough to transition. And now, it’s catching up, all at once. It’s taxing. Mentally, biologically… emotionally. The glands, the organ shifts, everything is recalibrating.”

Dick’s gaze flicked to Jason, who was pretending to ignore the explanation but tightening his fists and shifting his weight—glands burning, muscles tense, head flicking toward the door like he was ready to bolt. Dick could smell it: distress, fear, and a faint, underlying frustration.

“And” Leslie continued carefully, quietly, letting Dick know she didn't want Jason to hear, “there’s the matter of his pack bonds. Before his… death, Jason had bonds with Bruce, Alfred, and you. But then he died, and now their stretched, tenuous, Jason’s death has turned them into half- bonds that need to be reinforced, which means they’re underdeveloped, fragile. Re-bonding is necessary for stabilization, not just for his health, but for his system to fully integrate with an Alpha presence. If these bonds remain half-formed, he’s vulnerable. Physically, emotionally, biologically.”

Dick’s jaw tightened. He understood. Half-bonds. Jason had always been independent, defiant, stubborn—hell, part of what had kept him alive. But now, those old bonds weren’t enough. Jason needed someone to anchor him. To hold him steady. To assert without breaking him.

Leslie added, almost as an aside, “I’m not telling him this outright, Dick, because he would panic. He needs you to understand it, though, so you can manage him. And yes, the system will interpret the presence of a capable Alpha as… reinforcement. He needs that, more than he realizes.”

Dick’s mind spun, reconciling instinct, knowledge, and observation. Jason’s new Omega scent was flooding the room, his discomfort radiating, his body still raw from presentation, glands and nerves alike screaming. Dick’s alpha instincts wanted to take over, but he held them in check. Not yet. Not here. Not with Jason’s walls this high.

“Got it,” Dick said finally, hiding the low buzzing Dick was feeling in his veins. “Half-bonds. Re-bonding. Stabilize him. Keep him alive. I can handle that.”

Leslie gave a faint nod. “Good. I called you first for a reason, you can inform Bruce when you feel he's ready, this your pack business from this point. Good luck.”

God, Bruce he’d completely forgotten about his Pack Alpha. Dick winced at the very idea of calling him to tell him any of this was happening.

Dick turned his gaze back to Jason, who was still trying to act indifferent, snarl curling at the corners of his mouth, but Dick saw the tension running through him, the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands, the shift in scent that made every alpha fibre in him tighten.

Jason sniffed, trying to pull himself together. “So… you’re just gonna stand there, Doc? Talking about me like I’m some science experiment?”

Leslie’s eyes flicked between them, wary, but she didn’t waste time. “Fever was spiked at one-oh-four but has gradually gone down. Organ shifts are stable for now. Gland swelling is advanced; you’ll smell it stronger the closer you are. He’s still disoriented, but the transition is over. Jason has presented. Omega.”

The word settled like a weight in the air.

Behind him, Jason gave a sharp laugh, jagged and too loud. “Yeah, thanks, Doc, really needed the announcement like I didn’t hear it the first five times. Well, this was lovely and all, but l need to dip, lots of stuff to do. Heads to bash, cases to crack, bats to evade.”

Dick turned then, meeting Jason’s glare head-on. He took in everything at once—the sweat clinging to Jason’s hairline, the way his body sat differently on new lines and curves, the scent rolling off him like static. Distress. Frustration. Fear knotted tight under the bravado. His glands must be on fire, but he was standing like he wasn’t two seconds from folding in half. Typical Jason—bleeding out and still snarling.

“You don’t look so good,” Dick said softly. It wasn’t gentle as he wanted it to be, but it wasn’t cruel either. A statement.

Jason snorted, eyes narrowing. “Aw, thanks, big brother. That your professional medical opinion? Or are you just here to gawk? Got your eyeful yet? Because I’m heading out.” He shifted like he might peel himself off the bed and make a break for it.

Dick’s instincts flared hot, demanding he stop him now, grab him, pin him until he stopped shaking. He shoved them down. Alpha posturing would only make Jason bolt faster. Words. He had to use words like weapons, the way Bruce had taught them both, the way Jason had perfected into an art.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dick said, tone sharp, brooking no argument.

Jason barked a laugh, bitter and edged. “Yeah? You gonna drag me by the scruff, good luck with that, you all may think l am some weak soft omega now, but l still bite, don't forget that, Dick.”

The corner of Dick’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let it become a smile. “Try it, before your presentation and now, as the second Alpha in command, and your elder in ranking, and now your Alpha, l have the right to scruff you and make you listen to me, l don't want to little wing, but your health and needs will always come first.”

Jason froze, glare intensifying. He could see fear, panic well up in his eyes. Dick new the effect his words would have, he knew what Jason was really scared of. But Jason was an Omega now, and while Jason may not realise what he needs, Dick does, he needs discipline and gentleness, steady authority to soothe his Omega, and reinforce his position as Jason's Alpha by family. He needs a safe space to let his submissiveness out, to be who he now is, and Dick can be the bad guy in this scenario if that's what Jason will force him to do.

“You’re burning up. You can barely stand. And you reek of distress so strong it’s giving me a headache.” Dick took a deliberate step closer, not fast enough to spook, just enough to let Jason feel the pressure. “So, either you let me walk you out of here, or I carry you. Those are the options.”

Jason bristled, fists clenching. “God, listen to you. Mr. Alpha bossy pants. You think barking orders will make me listen to you, have you forgotten who l am. Has me playing nice these past few months made you forget what l can do.”

“No,” Dick said, calm but firm, he took a measured step closer, letting the space between them carry weight. Not threatening. Just… firm. “Jason,” he said slowly, deliberately. “I don’t need you to believe me. I do not expect you to like this, and that's ok, l knows this sucks right now. But you are not safe right now. Not alone. Not like this. You think you can handle it? That your stubbornness will protect you? You’re sick, you’re exhausted, and your body… your body won't negotiate with you. You push out that door on your own, you’ll collapse in an alley before you hit the block.”

Jason’s face went red, fury and humiliation warring across his features, at the implication of him being weak right now, even if Dick was right. “Shut the hell up. You don’t know—”

“I do know,” Dick cut him off, voice snapping like a whip. His instincts were clawing at him, telling him to scent, to soothe, to offer reassurance to the frightened omega—but he stayed on the knife’s edge, firm but not overwhelming. “I’ve been around omegas before Jason. I know exactly what’s happening to you. And I know you don’t want to hear it. But I’m not here to coddle you. I’m here to make sure you don’t die because you were too stubborn to admit you need help. Omegas without healthy pack bonds die Jason, even you know this, you need to come with me.” Dick was in fact here to coddle him, but Jason didn't need to know that.

Jason’s mouth opened, sharp retort already cocked, but no words came out. He shut it again with a snap, jaw ticking.

Dick saw it—the crack. The split second where Jason’s snarl faltered under the weight of the truth.

“Fine,” Jason spat, finally. “Fine. You win. I’ll come along.” His voice was dripping sarcasm, chin tilted high like he was doing Dick a favour, not letting him haul him out in the middle of a medical crisis. “But don’t get too excited, Goldie. I’m only doing it so you shut up.”

Dick’s instincts surged again, satisfaction curling hot in his chest. He buried it, smoothing his expression into something neutral. Jason didn’t need to see triumph—he’d only take it as patronizing.

“Good,” Dick said simply, turning to Leslie. “We’re leaving. Thank you for your help Leslie.”

As Jason slid off the bed, movements too stiff and jerky to pass as casual, Dick’s thoughts tightened into a coil. He wanted so badly to touch him, to say the words sitting like fire in his throat—You’re still Jason. This doesn’t make you less. You know what you need, there is no reason to be scared.

But Jason wasn’t ready for comfort. Not from him.

So, Dick just opened the door, sharp edges hiding the softness he knew he’d have to keep buried, at least for now.

The night air bit colder than Jason expected as he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and shouldered past the clinic doors. His boots hit the pavement hard, quick strides toward the street. He had dressed hastily back in his hoodie and sweatpants Leslie had as spare, ignoring Dick burning holes at the back of his head, God he needed a shower, in his safehouse, at his bathroom, not supervised by Dick like he was some invalid. He stared at Dick's Honda Accord, black and slightly scuffed from wear and didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. He already knew Dick was behind him.

“Jason,” Dick called, voice calm but with that infuriating lilt of authority. “Where are you going?”

“Away,” Jason snapped without slowing. Now that they were out of the clinic, away from Leslie's watchful eyes, Jason could slip away and ignore Dick trying to go all Alpha on him. “Thanks for the visit, but I’m not sticking around to play Omega 101 with you or anyone else.”

“Jason—”

“Don’t.” He spun on his heel, shoulders squared, eyes flashing under the streetlight. “I’m not some lost puppy you can drag back to your apartment. I don’t need to be babysat. I can handle this on my own.”

His voice cracked sharper than he meant, and that only pissed him off more. He jabbed a finger toward Dick. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what people do to Omegas. What they expect. What they take. You think I’m gonna walk into your place and just… roll over? Not happening.”

For a second, Dick just stood there, letting Jason’s words hang heavy. Then he sighed, slow, steady, like he had all the time in the world. He stepped closer, hands in his pockets, head tilted.

“You done?”

Jason blinked. “What?”

“The tantrum,” Dick said mildly. “Just making sure you got it all out. Sounded like you had a lot of stomping and finger pointing to do. I though we cleared this at the clinic but apparently not”.

Jason flushed, hot and sharp, like someone had yanked the rug out from under him, Dick never got snarky with him, or at least not often, whenever he did, he made Jason feel like a silly little kid. “I’m not throwing a tantrum!”

“You kind of are.” Dick shrugged, unbothered. “Loud voice, stompy boots, big dramatic exit. Classic Jason Todd meltdown.”

Jason’s jaw clenched. “You—” He cut himself off, spinning away before Dick could see the heat in his face. He was embarrassed, and that only made him bristle harder. “You’re such a fucking idiot, l am leaving.”

Dick smiled faintly, but his voice softened as he closed the distance. “Look, Jay… I hear you. I know you’re scared. And you’re right — some people treat Omegas like trash. Like they’re weak. Like they’re things to use. But that’s not what’s happening here. You know l wouldn't do that”.

Jason didn’t answer. His shoulders were tight, like a spring ready to snap.

“You think walking away’s gonna fix it?” Dick asked quietly. “You think pretending this isn’t happening is gonna make your body feel all better? You’re in pain, Jason. I can smell it on you from here. So, you’ve got two options: me chasing you across the alley and dragging you in the car with me like a little kid or come with me and let me help and keep your dignity intact.”

Jason swallowed hard, throat bobbing, but his eyes stayed stubbornly fixed on the pavement. “You make it sound so damn simple.”

“Because it is,” Dick said. “You’re my brother. You’re my pack. That’s the only part that matters.” He gestured at the car behind him. “Now, either get in, or I throw you over my shoulder and put you in. Your choice.”

Jason’s head snapped up, glare sharp enough to cut glass. “You wouldn’t.”

Dick arched a brow. “Try me.”

Jason opened his mouth, closed it, and groaned. Jason had miscalculated, he though if he made Dick angry enough, he wouldn't want to deal with Jason's difficult ass anymore and he could leave, however it's looking like he wasn't going to see his safehouse's bathroom for the foreseeable future. “You’re a dick, Dick.”

“Yeah,” Dick said cheerfully. “Now get in the car, Jay.”

Jason hesitated another beat before yanking the door open and dropping into the seat with a muttered curse. His posture was stiff, defiant, but his ears burned red.

Dick slid behind the wheel, satisfied. He didn’t say anything for a while, just let Jason sulk, because the truth was, Jason had already lost this round. And deep down, Jason knew it too.

Jason had in fact sulked all the way way to Dick’s safehouse, had sulked climbing the stairs to his apartment, and was now sulking in the sofa, ignoring whatever his brother was doing.

The safehouse was quiet, the only sound the hum of the old heater and Jason’s restless shifting on the couch. His hoodie was bunched at the collar, exposing the flushed skin of his neck where the new glands were swelling, angry and raw. He pressed his palm against them like he could grind the ache away, jaw tight, shoulders drawn up in frustration. God, they were buzzing and prickling, and he didn't understand what the hell they needed. The ones on his wrist where fine, but the ones on his neck and newly widened hips, which where tender, where aching something fierce.

“Burns like a bitch,” he muttered, more to himself than to Dick, but Dick caught it anyway.

He didn’t need Jason’s words. He could smell it. The sour, sharp edge of distress bleeding through Jason’s scent. An Omega scent—raw, unsettled, laced with frustration and fear. It tugged at instincts Dick hadn’t felt this strong in years, pressing against his composure with relentless insistence. His brother was hurting.

“Jay.” Dick’s voice was calm, even, but it carried an undertone that made Jason freeze. Not sharp. Not commanding. Just steady, unmovable. “Please don’t get mad me, but l needs to scent you, it's not bad, we used to do it all the time, we still do it. Let me help.”

Jason shot him a sharp look, the kind he usually paired with a gun cocked at someone’s head. “Help how? How the hell is a scenting gonna help, anyway? Don’t start with the Alpha mind tricks, Dick, I’m not in the mood.”

Dick just barely manged to bite back his incredulous expression. Patience, Jason has never been around a lot of Omega’s, and he never finished school so he never got taught secondary gender biology. Patience and guidance.

“You’re burning up because your omega's asking for reassurance that you have Alpha's, it must be extra agitated because of the bonds, it's just biology Jason,” Dick said softly. “You need to be scented. You need to know you’re safe.” Dick didn't mention that Jason's Omega was probably asking to feel owned and loved, that it was scared and Omega's needed to be constantly scented, they constantly needed to smell like an Alpha or they'd panic, needed to know someone was going to take care of them. Dick was not in the mood to chase Jason through rooftops, no thank you.

Jason scoffed, but it came out weak. “That’s—no. No way. That’s—” He cut himself off, flushing darker, eyes darting away. Jason barely let Dick or the kids scent him, mostly because he couldn't scent them back and didn't want to blow his cover, but also because of how it made him feel, the memories it brought back of Jason in his school uniform, Bruce brushing his neck before he headed out to work, or Dick being annoying and cuddling him whenever he was in the manor. Pack, family, something he wasn't anymore.

Dick leaned in, voice dropping lower, warm and certain. “It’s ok, Jason. It’s instinct. Protection. Pack. Let me take care of you.”

For a beat, Jason’s breathing hitched, caught between fight and collapse. His glands pulsed again, a sharp spike of pain and need, and a wounded sound tore from his throat before he could bite it back. His body betrayed him, hips shifting, shoulders slumping just a fraction.

That was all the permission Dick needed.

“Easy,” he murmured, guiding Jason down until he was stretched out on the couch. He braced himself above him, one hand steady on Jason’s shoulder, the other pressed firm against his hip, pinning him gently. Not crushing. Just enough weight to remind Jason he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was safe under someone stronger.

Then he bent his head and breathed him in, dragging his scent deep into his lungs before pressing his own against Jason’s glands. Jason had always liked Dick's scent, toffee and spiced cinnamon with that hint of Alpha musk. Comforting. Warmth spilled out of him in waves- possessive, protective, grounding. He worked it in with slow, deliberate strokes of his jaw and throat, smearing himself over Jason’s burning skin until the sharp edges of distress dulled.

Jason shuddered under him. His hands twitched once in protest, then curled tight in the blanket, body arching into the touch despite himself. His breath came ragged, high in his chest, and then lower—deeper—when the burn eased, replaced by something softer. Pleasure. Relief.

What the fuck.

Scenting wasn’t supposed to feel this soothing. Jason’s chest rattled, but not from fever or exhaustion—this was deeper, something his body had been craving without him even realizing. The burn in his glands dulled to a pulse, a steady rhythm, syncing with the weight of Dick above him. His shoulders loosened, the tension he didn’t know he’d been holding sliding out like sand through fingers. Heat pooled in his stomach, not the fire of panic, but a slow, curling warmth of being protected.

His arms, usually coiled and ready to push away, relaxed along his sides, letting the blanket catch the twitching of his fingers. His ribs rose and fell easier now; the tightness in his lungs softened. Every inhale carried Dick’s scent deeper, grounding him. To his Omega senses, the simple act of being pressed gently by someone who wouldn’t hurt him, someone strong enough to hold him, released a cascade of calm he’d never thought possible. It wasn’t pleasure in a sharp way—it was relief, the sensation of being seen, cared for, safe.

Jason’s breath hitched, shaky, betraying a flicker of something he wanted to mask. “…I… I don’t…” he muttered, words fumbling, barely coherent. Hid head was starting to feel fuzzy but not in a bad way. The tight, defensive part of him twitched, but the warmth in his core fought harder. His body, telling him he could relax, demanded it. Muscles he hadn’t even noticed relaxing loosened, hips shifting subconsciously toward the pressure, toward the warmth, the grounding scent of someone who would not leave him.

Dick shifted slightly, the movement deliberate and careful, chest brushing Jason’s, arms adjusting to hold him in a cocoon of steady strength. And then a low rumble emerged from his throat—an Alpha sound, deep, resonant, a growl of contentment and dominance that filled the room without needing words. The sound reverberated against Jason’s skin, through the blanket, through the small space of the couch.

Jason froze for half a beat and then felt it—his Omega biology absorbing it, responding instinctively. Relief and pleasure mingled in the ache of his glands, spreading along his spine, loosening the tight coil in his chest. His chest lifted and fell with ease, breath deeper, more satisfying. Heat pooled in his stomach and back, warmth that was grounding, telling him, you’re safe. You’re protected. You belong here, and it’s okay to feel this.

It made him shiver, and despite the confusion, despite the instinct to fight it, he let himself lean into it. Just for a moment. No words. No defence. Just his body learning that safety could exist, that comfort could come without pain. His hands, still curled against the blanket, relaxed, slackening against the weight of trust.

Dick’s growl softened, vibrating through the air, and he leaned down slightly, pressing his forehead gently to Jason’s shoulder, reinforcing the grounding, protective presence. The couch was small, the space between them intimates in a non-sexual, almost familial way, and yet entirely necessary. Jason’s Omega responses flickered in tandem with Dick’s calm Alpha scent, muscles unwinding, chest easing, mind going lax.

Jason let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, halfway between relief and disbelief, feeling his control slip—not because he was weak, but because this was safe surrender. He could let his biology do its work without fear. His shoulders lowered, the tension gone from his jaw, eyes flicking closed briefly. For once, he didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to push, bite, run, or fight. He could just… exist.

Dick, still above him, felt it—the subtle shift of acceptance, of relief, and his own Alpha instincts pulsed in response, pleased, protective, grounding. His chest brushed Jason’s back, arms steady, scent strong but warm, and he murmured softly, just for him, “Good… that’s it. Just breathe, Jason. You’re okay.”

Jason, for the first time in what felt like forever, let his body take over, soaking in the grounding, protective Alpha presence. The burn eased to warmth, the panic to calm, and he let himself curl slightly into Dick’s side, submissive not out of fear or shame, but out of trust, letting the sensation centre him. His lips parted slightly, exhaling raggedly, and the tension in his body finally gave way.

No words were needed. The couch, the scent, the warmth, the steady Alpha above him—it was enough. Jason’s Omega biology hummed with relief.

And then slick.

Jason went rigid, panic and shame flooding his eyes. “Shit—no—what the fuck—” He tried to push up, but Dick held him down with calm, steady pressure.

“Jason. Breathe.” Dick’s voice cut through, sure and grounding. “Listen to me. This is normal.”

“Normal?!” Jason’s voice cracked high, frantic. God, he always had to ruin everything, “I’m—God—this isn’t—”

“It’s your body telling you you’re safe. That you’re soothed. That you’re… pleased.” Dick didn’t flinch from the word. His tone stayed calm, matter of fact. “Yeah, slick can mean arousal. But it also means comfort. Happiness. Relaxation. This is what Omegas do when they’re cared for. There’s nothing wrong with it. It can happen with friends and family. I am kind of shocked you don't know that, how removed from society are you exactly.”

Jason’s chest heaved, shame written across every line of his face. His underwear was flooded with that sticky substance making him feel uncomfortable, but also pretty good to be honest. He was also relived to realise that he didn’t feel aroused or anything weird like that, not that Jason knew how that felt, he had been unpresented until just now and his body had never felt any adult biological feelings like arousal. He just felt relaxed and happy and pleased, and he noted, the second his cunt had slicked up he'd all but melted into the couch, his inner omega happy and pleased, like now that he was wet, he was being good and pleasing his Alpha, being good for his brother. Jason's nose scrunched up, “that’s—gross.”

“No.” Dick pressed harder against his glands, voice firming into quiet command. “It’s good. It means your body’s working the way it should. That you're being a good Omega.” Then, Dick hesitated, like he was scared to say something but really wanted to. "You're being very good for Alpha, little wing. Letting Alpha scent you and soothe you, so good baby brother."

 

Jason flushed, nose scrunching up, the red seeping all over his face and ears, and over his nose, on those light small freckles you to be really close to see. Internally, Dick was screaming right now, his brother was being adorable, he was soothing and pleasing Dick's Alpha in only the way a pack omega could, his little omega brother had gotten all slick because he had reacted to Dick's rumbling and pheromones and had felt safe enough to fall into his submissive instincts and let himself be pleased. God, Dick hadn't truly let the situation settle in him until now. Jason was an omega, he had been distressed and frustrated because he wanted a scenting, he wanted Dick's scent, his body was literally burning him because he wanted it so bad, suddenly Dick had to grit his teeth together and shove his face further into Jason's neck so he didn't bite him. Re claim their old bond.

 

Jason however, was squirming, every inch of him prickling with heat and humiliation, he didn’t want this and he hated it, and even though he had heard Dick's explanation, he was still confused as to why Dick wasn't laughing at him right now, or disgusted. Instead of trying to get away like a small part of him wanted to, his body was betraying him, sliding deeper into the couch again, spine softening when he wanted to bolt, thighs pressing together to hide the damp mess he could feel spreading. His fists curled in the blanket like maybe if he held tight enough, he could anchor himself against it, stop this dizzying surrender.

 

But the truth sank in, sickening and sweet: it wasn’t him choosing this. It was his body—his biology—running the show. He was now an Omega, and no matter how angry and terrified Jason was, he wasn't actually going to be able to act like before, he was a new person, a presentation is like being reborn, it's part of you, Jason was struggling so much because it had happened to late. Instinct didn’t care about pride or fear. Instinct didn’t care about his snarling protests or how he hated the word “omega.” Instinct only cared that an Alpha was here, scenting him, grounding him, keeping the fire from burning him alive.

The more Dick’s warmth pressed in, the more Jason’s body responded. His shoulders twitched like he meant to shrug Dick off but then melted back into the cushions. His throat worked around a noise—half growl, half whimper—that embarrassed him so bad his ears went hot. And still, he didn’t shove Dick away. He couldn’t.

What the hell is wrong with me? Jason thought, but somewhere underneath, a quieter voice answered: Nothing. This is what you are. This is what you need.

His breath hitched, sharp and wet, when another rumble rolled out of Dick’s chest—low, steady, calming, having responded to Jason's slight raising panic and fear. The sound sank into Jason’s bones, soothed the panic scrambling in his ribs, and his whole body shivered in relief. His face burned scarlet, but he didn’t fight it anymore. He just lay there, squirming a little, small and soft in a way he hated being seen, while his instincts purred at the Alpha’s approval.

 

Dick, however, was also starting to get a little bit worried. Jason wasn’t doing this because he understood. He was doing it because instinct had wrestled control from him. And when Dick really looked—past how pleased he felt—what he saw wasn’t an omega falling into a role he knew. It was a boy, his little brother, who had no idea what was happening to his own body. Jason didn’t know the rules, the needs, the biology. He didn’t even know why this soothed him, why his glands screamed when he wasn’t scented, why his instincts purred when an Alpha called him good.

It hit Dick like a gut punch: Jason had no foundation. No teachings, no guidance, nothing but the scraps he’d picked up on the street. He’d been robbed of a proper presentation, robbed of the safety to learn. And now it showed in every stiff squirm, every panicked flush, every confused little sound.

Dick’s Alpha still hummed, still wanted to roll him in scent until Jason knew he was safe. But beneath that, a steadier realization settled in his chest.

He had his work cut out for him.

And he still needed to call Bruce. For fuck's sake.

Chapter Text

Jason was going to have a mental breakdown.

He stood in front Dick's floor length bedroom mirror, bare from the waist up, clad only in a towel, glaring at the reflection that refused to bend to submission and change back. His waist tugged inward, smaller than it used to be, with his broad shoulders and newly wide hips, he was disgusted to find a very appealing figure staring back at him, shamefully his chest was bigger, it used to be pure muscle but now, undeniably, his chest was rounder and softer, the nipples pink and puffy showing off how irritated they were and he resisted the urge to rub the ache away that had been building since his presentation. He was disgusted to find out that not only was he cursed with his new affliction but now he had to look the part too, it was disgusting. Jason refused to think about how it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

He hated it. Hated that when he turned his head to the side, the light caught the curve of his cheekbones in a way that looked more refined, his features where thankfully still sharp, but they were no longer something that could be described as masculine, too refined, too pretty. He hated that he liked it. He hated the pleasure that was curling in chest, he wanted to be hateful and angry, instead shame and anger tangled in his chest until he couldn’t tell which one was winning.

And then a scent that was regretfully starting to become familiar hit him—sweet, warm, humiliating. His thighs were damp. Again. Jason cursed under his breath and yanked the towel off to finally look at the part he was completely terrified to acknowledge, he'd even tried to pretend in the shower, pretend it was something else than what it was or else he might do something completely embarrassing, like cry, and Jason did not cry. The towel hit the floor with a low thunk as Jason focused on the new part of himself that really defined him as an omega more than a few more curves did.

 

Jason caught his reflection again, this time lower, where everything felt wrong. He grimaced, fists tight at his sides, like he could will the image away by sheer force of stubbornness. It was unfamiliar, strange, soft in a way his body had never been before. His gut twisted at the sight, like someone had played a cruel joke on him. Where his dick used to be, now lay a soft bundle of pink nerves that he couldn't mistake for what it was. A pussy. Jason fucking Todd had a pussy. His hand slowly reached down between his legs, hand trailing down smooth skin, hard earned abs - he was glad he was still big and his muscle hadn't went away, that he wasn't small and weak like most omegas, he didn't know what he would of done if his body had changed that much- to spread his folds and softly, hand trembling in fear circled his clit. He gasped softly, he was incredibly sensitive, if he thought his chest ached, his cunt was burning, it was wet with slick, throbbing, his clit engorged and an angry red, because unfortunately Jason had been slicking the entire night, he was soft and vulnerable here and he had to bite back a whimper. He hated it, Jason reminded himself, he absolutely hated it, this soft omegan parts didn't belong to him, they weren't supposed to, Jason wasn't soft or sweet, he wasn't an Omega, this had to be a mistake. A cosmic joke the universe was playing on him, because he clearly hadn't suffered enough.

And yet—he couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t stop noticing how his body reacted on its own, how the telltale shine betrayed him, proof of instincts he wanted no part of. He wanted to sneer, to laugh it off, to shove his fist through the mirror and erase it all, but instead his throat tightened. For one terrifying second, Jason thought he might actually cry, and Jason Todd did not cry.

The slick was actually starting to bother him and this whole situation was starting to irritate him. This amount at all times was not fucking normal, he might have skipped those stupid biology classes, but he was sure something was wrong, he tied the towel around his waist hastily and stomped off to where his phone was resting on the bedside table. Taking the phone, furiously typing, he found several articles on presentation and scientific bogus he didn't want to think about.

The first article that popped up was some clinical nonsense titled *Post-Presentation Omega Hormonal Balance*. His eyes skimmed.

> “Newly presented omegas may experience uncontrolled secretion of slick for approximately four to six weeks. This period is referred to as the ‘Stabilization Month,’ during which the body calibrates hormone cycles. Just like Alphas who have a period of time to settle with their new body and instincts, both Omegas and Alphas must stay home with their pack to settle their hormones and stabilize their health.”

Jason vaguely remembered classmates suddenly going missing for a month and coming back newly presented, sometimes a little longer. This only happened to the ones who had presented Alpha or Omega.

He scrolled harder. Another section blinked at him:

> “Unresolved or weakened pack bonds can trigger increased pheromone output. This is a biological lure mechanism—omegas unconsciously attempt to draw alphas closer to restabilize bond integrity.”

Jason’s stomach dropped. Of course. Of fucking course his body would decide to act like some needy beacon, advertising itself because the old pack bonds—Bruce, Dick, Alfred—were stretched thin, half-dead things that hadn’t been reforged. As if this wasn't humiliating enough, Jason tossed the phone on the bed and groaned, he curled into himself slightly and scowled- pouted - at the wall. If Dick could see him right now, he'd laugh, teasing him about 'tantrums', that only made him scowl harder.

The front door clicked open somewhere down the whole, and Jason stiffened. Dick was back.

He scrambled to pull on the hoodie he’d snagged from Dick’s closet, tugging the sweats over his slicked skin, muttering under his breath. Breakfast, he remembered, his thoughts went back to Dick waking him up at the butt crack of dawn to get some food, because of fucking course Goldie had no food in his fridge.

Rustling came from the kitchen, snapping Jason back to the present. Bags rattled; Dick was back. He sank into the bed, hugging the hoodie tight, trying to act casual. When Dick appeared, hands full with plastic bags that most definitely didn't carry just food and a coffee tray, Jason’s eyes flicked to the stack of clothing Dick had set beside the bed, placing all the other bags in the closet and closing it shut, cluing Jason in that Dick didn't want him to see what was in those.

“What’s all this?” Jason asked, trying to keep his voice neutral, though the heat in his cheeks betrayed him, dread built up in chest since he could guess what Dickhead had brought, Jason wanted to belief Dick didn't have the audacity, but he most definitely did.

For fucks sake, this nightmare just isn't ending.

Dick set the bags down on the desk and started pulling things out, laying them in a neat line on the bed. A hoodie. Sweatpants. A couple of loose shirts. All cut wide and high in the collar, made for Omega comfort. Jason’s eyes narrowed automatically, ready to sneer at anything pastel or frilly, but… they weren’t. Every piece was dark, sharp, with streaks of red threaded in like Dick had known he’d complain otherwise. Damn it, they were even his style.

Then came the smaller bundle. Jason’s head went blank. For a second, he honestly thought his eyes were betraying him. But no. There it was: a plain packet of thick Omega panties, folded crisp like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jason muttered, voice low, hot with disbelief.

Dick didn’t flinch. He set them down with the rest, voice soft and sweet, cerulean eyes big and caring. “You need them, Jay. My stuff—” his hand brushed his own hoodie sleeve, “—it’s made for Alphas. It won’t sit right on your skin. I bet it's itching your skin and scent glands; these should feel better. At least until you get you head out of your ass and go buy your own things.”

Jason felt the heat climb up his face before he could stop it. “You can’t expect me to wear these,” he snapped, pointing at the bundle like it had personally insulted him. “This is humiliating. I’m not some—”

He cut himself off when he caught Dick’s gaze flick toward the panties. For once, his big brother looked… careful. A faint pink had risen on Dick’s cheeks, the kind that Jason had never seen before, and for half a second, he froze. The sight was so ridiculous—calm, unshakable Dick Grayson, tripping up over underwear—that Jason almost broke down in a slightly hysterical giggle.

Almost.

Instead, the mix of silly embarrassment and the strange earnestness in Dick’s eyes made his stomach twist. He could acknowledge that the slick really had been bothering him and while Jason was stubborn, he wasn't silly enough to inconvenience himself over something like this, an image came of his slick flooding his bottoms and creating a wet spot at random while he was with Dick, or God forbid in public and that convinced him enough to swallow his own embarrassment.

Jason snatched up the whole pile, clothes and all, muttering something under his breath that definitely wasn’t a thank you, since he had a reputation to uphold. He shouldered past Dick- sharply ignoring the relief on his brother's gaze- and slammed the bathroom door shut, turning the lock with a sharp click.

Jason leaned against the bathroom door, breathing hard like he’d just run a damn marathon. The bundle of clothes was still clutched to his chest like contraband, the packet of panties digging into his arm through the plastic. For a long second, he just stood there, staring at the tiles, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Dick Grayson, golden boy of Gotham, had just handed him underwear like it was a completely normal thing to do. Not just underwear, fucking panties.

“This is insane,” Jason muttered. He dumped the clothes on the toilet seat and glared at them like they might glare back. The hoodie and sweats looked normal enough—dark, loose, high collar. He could almost pretend those were just normal clothes. But the panties sat on top like a goddamn bomb, daring him to touch them.

His throat felt tight. He wanted to scoff, maybe laugh, but instead his chest burned with something sharper—humiliation and… relief? The thought made his jaw clench.

He peeled the plastic back anyway, because his stupid body was still slick and uncomfortable, and he wanted some relief, any relief at this point. The material was soft, thick in the middle, clearly designed for someone like him now. Designed for an Omega.

Jason caught his reflection in the mirror as he held them up, and for the second time that morning, he wanted to throw something. His face was red, heated with humiliation, eyebags under his eyes highlighting how exhausted this whole ordeal had made him, and unfortunately, he also looked ready to cry. No wonder Dick had been talking to him in that soft annoying voice, like he was some distressed hysterical omega. He looked the part.

“Pathetic,” he hissed at himself, feeling angry that he'd let himself slip like this and showed Dick this weak side of him that he didn’t want anyone to know, shoving the panties back onto the counter. His hands lingered on the hoodie instead. Black with red lining—it was actually pretty cool. He tugged it on and let the fabric swallow him whole, collar brushing high against his neck, hiding the sensitive curve of his scent glands.

It fit too well. It felt right.

Jason pressed his palms to the counter and bowed his head, hoodie shadowing his face. He hated this—hated how much better it felt already. Hated that Dick knew what he needed before he did, because he was dumb and sensitive and he had to admit to himself that he was glad he had went with Dick, he would probably be curled up in his safehouse right now, uncomfortable and miserable without any idea where to start. And most of all, he hated the way his chest eased, just a fraction, like the fight was leaving him in spite of himself.

 

Grimacing, Jason turned around and stared at the packet like it had personally insulted him. He ripped the plastic open, muttering under his breath the whole time. Once he pulled them out, he was surprised by how cool the fabric felt in his hands, it was softer than anything he’d worn before, thick in the middle, stretchy at the waist. He hated that his fingers lingered on it, hated the way his chest twisted with something almost like relief at the thought of not sitting in damp sweats all day.

He stared at the black material for a full minute, wishing he didn't have to do this but ultimately knowing that he'd dragged his sulkiness for enough time now, and he had start accepting some hard realities, and one of them was fucking panties. Taking a deep breath, he yanked his sweats down, cursing under his breath like every profanity in the English language could save his pride at this point.

He stepped into them fast, like if he moved quick enough it wouldn’t count. They slid up easily, snug but not tight, holding him in a way that was… god, he wanted to punch the wall. Secure. Comfortable. Too comfortable. His cunt was snug and held tightly, some pressure the Alpha underwear didn't provide already making him feel better, a deep, very deep part of him uncurling and finally relaxing, he could already feel the material absorbing his slick in a way that even made the wetness feel good.

Jason’s reflection stared back at him. Hoodie hiding his glands, sweats loose over his legs, and those ridiculous Omega panties underneath it all. He should’ve looked humiliated. Instead, he looked… settled. Like some part of him finally stopped fighting.

His throat burned. For half a second, he thought he might actually cry- he'd been feeling that way since he woke up this morning- and the idea was so absurd he barked a laugh instead, sharp and humourless and maybe slightly crazy. He refused to cry, he used to do it a lot when he was tiny brat- bite people and scream until his face was red and his throat hurt- and every time he slipped up and let his eyes burn, he would remember how much it pleased Bruce when he cried, instead of being annoyed by his childish tantrums like his parents, or hell every parent he knew, fondness would be leaking from his eyes, and he'd patiently listen to whatever had set him off so earnestly that it used to make him cry harder. The memories actually made his eyes burn a little.

Christ these presentation hormones where no joke.

When he finally unlocked the bathroom door, he had the bundle of Dick's borrowed clothes balled in his arms like evidence he was ready to destroy, he hastily dropped them in the laundry basket outside the bathroom door and dragged his feet outside the hallway.

 

Jason took a deep breath to steady himself, uncurl his body from how tense he was, and padded inside the living room, hoodie tugged low, sweats loose on his hips, phone clenched in his hand like it was a lifeline. He half-expected Dick to be in the kitchen rattling pans. Instead, his brother was perched on the couch, posture easy, mug in hand, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. TV on low, coffee steaming, eyes calm. His perfectly still posture betraying his appearance, making it obvious he was waiting for Jason to come out. Fucking weirdo.

Of course he was waiting.

Jason rolled his eyes. “You look like fucking mannequin Dick, relax.”

“Clothes ok then, do you feel any better,” Dick asked lightly, patting the cushion next to him, eyes still glued to the TV, doing everything in his power not to startle Jason.

Jason muttered something obscene under his breath but dropped onto the couch anyway, shoulders stiff.

“How are you feeling?” Dick asked again because he had endless patience and a million younger siblings.

Jason almost snapped out a sarcastic answer, but the bathroom had sobered him up a little— the mirror, the clothes, the relief he couldn’t deny. Swallowing his pride, because he was resolved into putting in a little bit of effort, Dick wasn't his goddamn mother after all, he muttered, “Clothes are fine. Thank you.”

That was all Dick needed, a wide smile spread across his face, the one reserved for his family, not his media one and he finally turned to look at Jason. His arm slid around Jason’s shoulders, casual, warm, guiding him closer, before Jason could protest, Dick dipped his head and inhaled, scent brushing over Jason’s glands in a deliberate sweep.

Jason jolted. “What the hell are you doing, you freak?”

“Scenting you,” Dick said, like it was obvious. “We talked about this yesterday, you need it every day without fail, I thought you'd accepted that by now.”

Jason blinked at him, brain trying to keep up, he opened his mouth to argue, because Jason Todd did not need anything from anybody, but instead of shoving Dick off and snarling, his body betrayed him, muscles melting as Dick’s scent layered over his skin. Calm seeped into him like a drug. Heat rippled down his spine, his breath hitched, his fingers curled into the couch cushions, knuckles white, trying to hold onto irritation as it slipped through his grip, relief, and pleasure seeping in instead.

 

Another careful nudge, another slow sweep of scent across his skin — deliberate, grounding — and Jason made the mistake of tilting, just slightly, into it. His body chased the comfort before his brain could stop him.

The humiliation burned even as his chest eased. God, it felt so good, his scent glands felt like they were purring in comfort, his body no longer aching.

“Good,” Dick murmured, and the low approval made Jason’s ears ring. "You're doing so good, little wing, thank you for letting me scent you," Dick shifted even lower, pressing the scent glands of his neck directly on to Jason, toffee and cinnamon mixing in with caramel, vanilla and green apples, the scents twirling together making Jason feel settled, like he really did need this to function properly. He felt Dick's hair tickling his neck as he whispered, " you know that scenting makes Alphas feel just as good as omegas, you're being such a good brother, a good pack member."

His vision went hazy around the edges, the steady warmth of his brother’s scent sinking deeper than he wanted to admit. Jason’s lips twitched like he might giggle — a soft, helpless sound spilling out before he could choke it back. The scenting was starting to get to his head, making his brain dumb and hazy, his inner omega taking over. He felt drunk, giddiness spreading in his chest, Dick's praises where making him feel warm all over, that he had to bite his lip, so he didn't start giggling like an idiot.

“Shut—shut up,” he managed, slurring with heat, cheeks going hot. He hated how stupidly loose he sounded; how obvious it was that his body had given in.

Dick pulled back just enough to look at him, smile tugging at his mouth, there was such powerful fondness and adoration in his eyes, that Jason had to turn his red face away, before he did something stupid, like cry- and this was really starting to get ridiculous now. He couldn't remember the last time his brother had looked at him with such familial love, probably when he was a stupid twelve-year-old brat and would follow Dick around like sunshine came out of his crack. “You're adorable like this, little wing, such a perfect omega, our pack is so lucky.”

Jason wanted to snap that he wasn’t. That he wasn't part of the pack, not anymore. But the words wouldn’t come. His head was buzzing, fuzzy, too thick with alpha pheromones to string anything sharp together, and all that came out was a breathless giggle, turning further into the couch to hide his red face, wriggling his body trying to get away from Dick's words and how they made him feel.

He sank further against the couch, swallowing down another laugh that felt more like a sigh. Slick heat was wetting his panties, but thankfully the material was absorbing them, making him feel secure and safe, not making a mess this time, which only made things worse, because now he was thing of how good his Alpha packmate was, how he was providing for him, how lucky he was and that he should bond with him. Bond, bond, bond. Jason squeezed his eyes shut and prayed Dick wasn't able to read his mind.

 

Unfortunately, his body gave him away anyway. The sweet, heady note of his slick threaded through the air, diffusing into the room and announcing his pleased and relaxed state without mercy. Dick’s nostrils flared as he caught it, and a low, involuntary growl slipped from his throat. He bent forward, pressing a firm kiss to Jason’s forehead — grounding, possessive, protective all at once. Jason blinked up at him, turning away from the couch dazed and pliant, God he probably looked super dumb.

“I’ll make breakfast,” Dick said softly, straightening with that same calm composure, though his shoulders were taut, he knew he had to stop now, too much scenting also wasn't good, it would leave Jason scent drunk for hours and while he didn't mind- God knows how much Jason could use some time to relax- he had an important conversation to have with Jason, one that he knew was probably not going to go over very well. He left Jason curled against the couch, warm and dizzy in the aftermath, the scent of him still heavy in the air.

 

The smell of eggs and slightly burnt toast hit him first, homey and grounding in a way Jason didn’t want to admit. By the time he’d blinked the fuzz of scent-drunkenness out of his head, Dick was sliding plates onto the low coffee table in front of the couch, acting casual, like this was the most normal morning in the world. Jason pulled his knees up tighter, sulking, refusing to meet his brother’s easy smile. He kept pretending to watch the TV, pretending not to notice the warmth pooling between his thighs, the slick he knew was still seeping through, even with the thick fabric. His Omega biology had no shame, remembering his research session this morning about his body trying to lure his Alphas into bonding him again, which had irritation rising in his chest, fierce scowl glaring at the blonde omega female in the TV explaining how it was going to be cloudy day but thankfully no rain .

 

“Jay,” Dick’s voice broke into the silence, calm but deliberate, but Jason could hear the slight tension in his voice. “We need to talk about the bonds.”

Jason’s stomach twisted. He snapped his gaze away, jaw clenched. “Not this again. I heard you and Leslie whispering in the clinic, l does not need any bonds, I am fine.”

“You know you need one. Omegas need bonds you know this Jason, they die without one, wild omegas never last alone, they get sick and frail. It’s—”

“I said no.” Jason’s voice cut sharper than he intended. The irritation had been simmering all morning, and now it flared, the information he got this morning has been rolling and turning at the back of his mind making him angry, he does not want to entice any fucking Alphas. “Bruce doesn’t need to know, it's my business, l don't want him to know. He doesn’t need to—”

Dick set his fork down, steady, measured. “This isn’t about Bruce. This is about you and me. I’m talking about our bond, the one we had before.”

Jason’s head jerked, caught off guard. His chest tightened as memories pressed in, unbidden, the way Bruce’s bite had tied him into the pack years ago, binding him to Alfred, to Dick. The way he and Dick had grown closer after, enough that he’d accepted Dick's rank as above him, let him mark him in turn. He could still feel the ghost of that bite on his neck, sharp and warm. Before he’d died. Before everything had been ripped away.

If Bruce bit him now, Jason knew what it would mean. He’d be bound to all of them—the whole damned Bat-pack, every brat, every tether and demand that came with it. But what Dick was asking for wasn’t that. It was something smaller, something theirs. A private, brotherly bond like before, it made his chest twist and he wished it was in anger, in disgust, in anything other than this tight squirrelly feeling that felt a lot like longing.

Jason swallowed hard. The anger was still there, but it wasn’t just anger. It was fear, and shame, and something rawer than either. His voice cracked as he spat, “You’re just doing this because I’m an Omega now. Out of duty. Out of pity. You didn't want me when l came back, when you though l was an Alpha or a Beta or whatever, but now that I am an omega l am suddenly worth a bond.” He wished he could say that he was just lashing out, that these weren't his real feelings, Dick and Bruce hadn't wanted him back before, so that means that Dick wasn't being genuine. Jason would rather die of bond sickness as a wild omega rather than be bonded to someone who didn't actually want him.

That stopped Dick cold. For once, his mask slipped, blue eyes flashing sharp with disbelief, true anger appearing in his gaze. “Are you kidding me?” His voice rose, uncharacteristically rough. “You think this is about pity?”

Jason flinched, not expecting the anger, the raw feelings in Dick's voice.

“You fought us,” Dick continued, pushing forward, the words spilling now. “You fought me. Back when you came back, when we were begging you to come home, to come back to the pack, I wanted you then. I wanted you back, wanted you safe, and you wouldn’t listen. You were too angry, too stubborn—”

Jason’s throat closed up. The weight of his voice, the Alpha growl beneath the words, clawed at his instincts. Something weird was happening, Dick's anger was making him feel strange, his Omega clawed at the back of his skull, frantic, shoving instincts he didn’t want—kneel, submit, appease him. The Alpha's angry voice was making fear and shame rise up in chest and he didn’t understand why.

 

“And I didn’t push again because I was trying to earn your trust back,” Dick snapped, drawing his attention back from his sinking thoughts and making the feeling worse, his omega growing truly agitated. “Not because I stopped wanting you in the pack. Not because I didn’t want our bond. Never that.”

The force of it hit something deep in Jason’s chest, and before he could stop it, before he even realized what was happening, a sound broke out of him. A small, raw, humiliating sound. A whimper. A high broken submissive sound tore out of his throat, his neck snapped back showing it to the Alpha without Jason's permission. Jason's head was growing fuzzy again, all he wanted was to please the Alpha in front of him, his Alpha, he felt sorry that he made him angry, he wanted to be good.

Both of them froze.

Jason’s eyes went wide, his blood running cold with the horror of it. His body had betrayed him, submissive instincts laid bare for Dick to hear. He pressed his lips shut, fists clenching, something small in him that used to be bigger was screaming to hide, fight. He was trying to fight his instincts, a small part of Jason was horrified that he was acting like this, confused even, the rest of him didn't care, he was tired of fighting himself constantly, he felt like had reached a breaking point, tired of fighting every instinct he had. He wanted Dick to stop smelling so angry, to forgive him so he could scent him, so they could snuggle on the coach while he smelled of his brother's Alpha stink, warm and safe, protected. Owned. He truly didn't understand why he was reacting like this and for the millionth time today Jason felt his eyes burn with tears, his lower lip starting to tremble.

Dick’s gaze softened instantly, even as his posture held firm. “Jay,” he said quietly, the Alpha rumble still thrumming underneath, dominating, not angry anymore but showcasing that he will be heard. “It’s okay,” Dick said, his voice low and steady, cutting through the panic. “I know you’re confused. I’ll explain later. It's normal, nothing bad is happening. I am not mad at you Jason, don’t be scared little wing,” Dick crooned, all anger gone from his voice, trying to soothe the startled omega. His eyes stayed locked on Jason’s, calm but unyielding. “But first, we’re going to agree about the bonding. You need it—and I want it.”

Jason shook his head, trembling. “No. No, I don’t—”

“Listen to me.” Dick leaned closer, voice lowering into that dangerous softness Jason hated, because it slipped past all his defences. “I’ve always wanted this. Wanted what we had back. I’m not doing this out of pity, or duty, or because you’re an Omega. I wanted our bond then, and I want it now.” His hand hovered, not touching, waiting. “And I know you want it too. You wouldn’t be fighting this hard if you didn’t. It's ok to be scared of the situation, but you know you don't have to be scared of me.”

Jason’s chest heaved, torn between anger and something dangerously close to surrender. Never let it be said that Dick Grayson isn't a manipulative son of a bitch, lots of people for that stupid persona of his but Dick is a bat through and through, a dangerous one, once he sees an opening for something he really wants, he'll grab it. The fear of being pitied still gnawed at him, but the truth in Dick’s voice struck deeper, how hard he was fighting to get through to Jason was making his anger weaken, his complaints fall through. He hated it, hated how much he wanted to believe him.

Finally, with a growl that was closer to despair than defiance, Jason tipped his head back even further, baring his throat for a bite this time. The day has finally caught up to him and he's tired, he's so fucking tired and for once he just wants to believe, he wants to trust his Alpha when he says he wants him, Dick has been here for him since Leslie called him and not once has he wavered. He truly wanted to be here, with Jason, and Jason wanted it too, if he could peel off the hurt, he could admit to himself how much he wants it, wants his brother back, his pack.

Dick didn’t hesitate. He leaned in, teeth sinking into familiar skin, re-forging the bond they’d both lost years ago. A growl already building in his throat, smug and victorious, claiming what was his back.

Chapter Text

Jason slumped deeper into the couch cushions, blanket half-slid off his shoulder, staring at the faint light seeping through the blinds. Since yesterday, since the damn presentation had hit him like a truck, his nerves had been nothing but raw. Every breath had grated, every sound too sharp, every thought balanced on the edge of snapping. He’d wanted to fight, to bite, to scream—or worse, to just curl up and cry. He hadn’t felt right in his own skin, his omega stressed and unhappy.

But now… now the buzzing had quieted. The bond sat warm and heavy in his chest, like something that had been dead and rotting for years suddenly stitched back together, pulsing with new life. It wasn’t invasive, not some creepy mind-meld where he heard Dick’s thoughts. It was simpler, steadier. A golden thread tugging faintly at his ribs, whispering that someone else was there, someone solid, someone who would feel it if he was bleeding out or drowning in grief. A bond didn’t share every mood, but the strong ones—the sharp edge of anger, the crushing weight of shame, the pulse of joy, the jagged flare of fear—they’d bleed through, but with time anyone could learn to block it. It meant never being completely alone, no matter how far apart they were.

He could feel it now, that steady hum, strong where once it had been just a fraying ghost of what they’d had before. And for the first time since yesterday, Jason’s shoulders unclenched. He hated to admit it, but the link soothed him in ways he’d been starving for. He could live like this. Not happy, not whole—but not alone.

Dick had pressed lazy kisses over his temple, cheek, hairline, like he couldn’t help himself- leaving his omega a purring mess at the back of his head- before finally pulling away for a shower. Jason stayed curled where he was, fingers pressed lightly to the side of his neck where the bite still tingled. The skin was tender, but what unsettled him most was how much calmer he felt. Settled. And maybe, just maybe, ready to stop fighting everything for once.

Jason was half-melted into the couch by the time Dick padded out of the shower. His hair was damp, darker from the water, falling in loose waves that brushed the edge of his temple. The t-shirt clung in places, basketball shorts hanging low, he looked relaxed and happy, that dumb stupid smile that had been plastered on his face since Jason had let him bite him still curled on his lips, and really he was just begging to get his face caved in.

Jason’s eyes followed him, lazy, but his mind wasn’t as still. A question had been itching at him, pulling him up out of the haze. “Why did I do that?” His voice was rough, uncertain. “Back there. You snapped, and I—” He cut himself off, jaw working. “I don’t get it.”

Dick hesitated mid-step. He could brush it off, soften it, lie. But Jason’s stare was steady, waiting, and Dick couldn’t give him less than honesty. He dropped down onto the couch’s edge. “It’s because of our old bond,” he said finally. “You recognize me as one of your alphas. It’s not every alpha—you won’t just fold for anyone. But with people you recognize as your alphas… or anyone you choose to bond with, to mate with, later—your body’s wired to respond like that. To submit in the face of your Alpha's anger, only if you feel like you've done something wrong, being an omega doesn't turn you dumb and insubordinate if that's something you're worried about.”

Jason went very still. The words sat heavy in his chest, sinking down like lead. Recognition. Alphas. The thought twisted into something darker, unbidden—Bruce. What if—? His stomach dipped at the idea, a cold fear curling there. Bruce could use this in their next fight, because they always fight.

Then he shut his eyes hard and shook his head. Stupid. Paranoid. Whatever their mess was, Bruce wouldn’t do that to him, he's the fucking Batman, he fights people who do that to Omegas. He wouldn’t take advantage. The bond was rattling him more than he wanted to admit.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, trying to stop from tensing, it felt like it just a new thing coming at him every second of the day.

Dick caught the shift anyway and it made him frown. He’d left Jason loose-limbed and calm, and now his shoulders were creeping back up toward his ears. Dick then slid closer, draping himself bodily over Jason, the warmth of his weight pressing him down. “It’s fine,” he murmured, voice steady, almost coaxing. “This is just you being an omega, Jason. Don't be scared little wing.”

He braced for a snap, a sharp edge. Instead, Jason went pliant under the words, breath leaving him in a low exhale. The fight drained right out. He sagged into Dick, letting himself be held, the new reality pressing closer but not as sharp. For once, acceptance didn’t feel like surrender—it just felt like quiet.

 

Jason let himself sink into the solid weight of Dick’s arms; muscles slack for once. The word omega should have had him baring his teeth, spitting back something sharp—but instead it slid over him like water. Maybe it was the bond, maybe it was just exhaustion. Either way, he didn’t fight it. Not right now. For the first time in too long, he let his body rest without bracing for impact.

And then the calm shattered.

He tensed all over, scared and embarrassed. Heat flushed over him, different from slick, heavier, thicker. His stomach flipped, a knot of dread coiling up as something shifted lower, wet in a way that made every nerve in his body go on alert. He clamped his thighs together fast, a rush of panic cutting through the haze. Not slick. Not this. Something else. Something worse. His breath caught, heart jerking against his ribs as he realized he didn’t dare move off the couch. He'd completely forgotten, while Jason wasn't very educated in his biology, he wasn't fucking stupid, Omega's a few days after their presentation got their menstrual cycle, body finally ready, organs settled and presentation over, their bodies ready to get bred. Have puppies for their Alphas.

“Jay?” Dick’s voice was low, cautious, but the frown was already pulling between his brows. His eyes flicked down, sharp, because Dick never missed anything. Jason followed the line of his gaze—and saw the stain blooming through his sweats, dark and damning against the pale couch cushion.

Blood.

For one awful heartbeat, Jason couldn’t breathe. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Jason snapped upright like he'd been stung. The couch cushion slipped out from under him and he was on his feet before he remembered he couldn't move gracefully right now. Heat flushed his face so hard it burned. He didn't meet Dick’s eyes — he couldn't — and before the man on the couch could even stand, Jason had shoved past him running down the hallway and slammed the bathroom door shut, thumb fumbling the lock like his hands had their own agenda.

The bathroom light felt too bright, too honest. Jason kicked the door with the heel of his foot and leaned his forehead against the cool wood, breathing hard and loud and ragged. The words tumbled out of him in a rough, angry whisper: goddamn it, goddamn it, goddamn it. He slapped a palm against his face and tasted the salt of it on his lips. The couch. The stain. Dick. He pictured the neat lines of the couch soaked in red and pictured his brother bending over it with a rag and a grim expression like some overtired mother and something in his chest broke and rewired itself into pure, hot humiliation.

This has officially stepped from mildly disturbing to bat shit crazy and absolutely humiliating.

He paced once, then began to curl his hands into fists at his sides, swearing under his breath so low the words were almost prayer. He had accepted things—some things—over the last day, but this was different. This was the part that made his stomach drop away. He had begun to accept that he could trust his brother with this part of himself and could even accept that this was he was now, but he would not, could not be the person who left his brother to scrub his blood from the furniture. That was too far, he knew Alpha's were supposed to take care of their omega's, that it was literally their whole existence, but this was just so embarrassing he didn't think he could face Dick ever again. He could not make Dick do that because of him. The thought pushed him past embarrassed straight to flight. Nope he is never facing Dick ever again, it was nice while it lasted but now it was time to dip.

He dragged the small bathroom window up, tested the latch, eyes darting to the thin roof ledge below. He could go. He could be gone before Dick came in. He'd tie his hoodie over his sweats to hide the shameful evidence, buy some pads at the local drugstore, and hide away in his safehouse so he could scream his pillow into oblivion. Amazing plan. Might even be on par with taking over as a drug lord to stop crime. Bruce would be super proud of him.

A heavy rap banged on the other side of the door—three solid knocks. Jason flinched so hard his knees nearly buckled. A familiar voice came through, low and steady and not remotely amused. “Don’t you even think about jumping out of that window, Jay. If you leave through the roof I will chase you across every one of these damned rooftops until you give up. Stay where you are. Open the door now.”

Jason’s fingers tightened on the sill. For a second he wanted to laugh, this had to be the single most humiliating experience of his entire life, Stephanie was going to lose it, he'd never be able to show his face again. Forget his safehouse, he was going to have to leave the city, maybe he'd go bother Roy at Star City, or go the Island and hide away with Kory. Instead he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the cold tile, knees pulled up, and his breath hitched again, and maybe there was some truth to Omega's being overly emotional, about people having to be careful with them or they'd set them off, because he was starting to feel his eyes burn again, his red face scrunching up. The words on the other side of the door kept going—soft, insistent—because Dick apparently didn't know when to quit it, and he was on a mission to make Jason's life hell. Or maybe his period was messing with his emotions, maybe that's why he'd been acting crazy all day.

“Just open the door, Jay. This really isn't that embarrassing, come on baby, let Alpha help you.”

He pressed his forehead to his knees and cursed himself until the syllables blurred. The plan to run fizzled into the damp tile and quiet. The humiliation was still a live wire in him, humming and raw, but the knock and the voice made it harder to leave than he had thought. He didn't move right away, not because he couldn't, but because he was trying to decide if pride or the unbearable thought of leaving Dick with the mess was worse. He couldn't do that, he needed to clean it himself or he'd have a breakdown. The bathroom smelled like disinfectant and his own panic; outside, footsteps shuffled and he heard the lock click slightly. Dick Fucking Grayson, worst brother in existence was picking the lock, of course he was, he clearly hated Jason and wanted him to be miserable.

God maybe he needed a nap.

 

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just enough for Dick to slip in. He found Jason crumpled against the wall, knees up to his chest, face flushed and blotchy, his curly hair was messy and wild, white streak stuck to his forehead. His lashes were wet, cheeks streaked, but he was glaring at the floor like it had insulted him personally, pout fierce. The sight nearly knocked the wind out of Dick, it was such a mirror image of a twelve year old Jason that his chest tightened, lungs twisting together, God he was adorable, Dick loved having younger siblings, but Omega brothers were a new level of cute, he looked like a sulky kitten, scent sickly sweet with embarrassment, Dick had to physically restrain himself so he didn't coo at him and tackle him into a hug. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

Jason’s head snapped up instantly, catching the twitch of Dick’s lips. “You think this is funny, huh? God—fuck you. Fuck you, Grayson.” He lurched toward the window again, fumbling with the frame, but Dick was faster. With a grunt, he hauled Jason back by the arm and plopped him down squarely on the toilet seat like he weighed nothing. Which he most definitely did, the display just made Jason angrier

Jason squirmed, cussing a blue streak, shoving at Dick’s chest. “Let me go, you piece of shit, can't let me be embarrassed in peace. I’m serious—”

But Dick only leaned in, arms braced around him, shoulders shaking as a quiet laugh finally broke loose. Jason froze, wide-eyed, before redoubling his cussing, voice cracking under it. Why did he ever thing Dick was a good Alpha, he was the worst, the absolute worst, of course his brother has the audacity to laugh at him.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Dick said quickly, though the grin tugging his mouth made it hard to believe. He squeezed Jason’s shoulder, eyes dancing even as his voice softened. “I swear, Jay. I’m laughing at the situation. Never thought I’d walk in and find you trying to bail through a bathroom window over a little blood.”

Jason made a strangled noise, face going nuclear red. “I hate you. I actually hate you.”

Dick smoothed a hand over his curls, then caught his chin, forcing him to look up. His own smile dimmed into something steadier, though his eyes still sparkled. “I’m not making fun of you, baby. This is completely normal, l don't want you thinking this is disgusting or something, honestly, you're being a little dramatic. It's just a period, you can go toe to toe with black mask, but this has you scrambling.” He pressed a kiss against Jason’s forehead before Jason could duck away- he'd been doing that a lot lately and Jason didn't know how to feel about it, he wasn't a little kid- then pulled back with a stern look that only made Jason bristle harder.

“Do. Not. Leave,” Dick said flatly, voice edged with warning. “I swear to fuck, Jason. I’ve been threatening to chase you across rooftops since yesterday. Don’t test me.”

Jason huffed, muttering obscenities under his breath, but he didn’t move this time.

“Good.” Dick finally stepped back, brushing his hands off like he’d won something. “Stay here.” He disappeared for a moment, and when he came back, he was holding a paper bag from this morning that he'd hidden in the closet. He set it on the counter and pulled out pads, tampons, a hot water bottle, even a heating patch. “I bought this stuff along with the clothes. Figured we might need it soon, because, and l repeat this is completely normal, you're my younger brother, my pack omega, l don't know why you're trying to jump out the window for.”

Jason blinked at the pile, then at Dick. His face went scarlet all over again. “…You’re the worst.”

Dick only smiled, smug and fond, and ruffled his hair. “I love you too. Now, l am going to trust you and leave you here, l swear to God Jason, you won't like what happens if you try to leave. After this you can have a nap, you clearly needed,” Dick muttered the last part under his breath as he promptly shut the door, leaving Jason here wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

 

Jason had picked the pads. The tampons sat untouched in their wrapper, staring him down like smug little sticks of doom. No way in hell. Pads were humiliating enough, but at least they weren’t intimidating, Jason had never stuck anything up in there and he did not want to try.

When he’d walked out of the bathroom, still scalding with embarrassment, he’d caught sight of Dick crouched by the couch with cleaner and a rag. Jason had turned tail instantly, face hot enough to ignite, and fled to the breakfast counter, where he flattened himself across the cool marble like he could melt into it. Maybe if he stayed very still, he’d vanish. His stomach twisting and turning, lower stomach burning with cramps that hurt, and they truly did hurt, it felt like a boulder was sitting on his uterus, he knew he'd have to try those heating patches later.

Now, the kitchen was too quiet. Jason sat at one end of the island, arms folded, eyes narrowed, glaring at Dick like it might fend off whatever lecture was brewing. Dick sat across from him, elbows on the counter, mirroring the stare.

It was a standoff.

Jason’s jaw ticked. He knew that look. Dick only pulled it out when he was about to say something Jason would hate.

“Spit it out already,” Jason muttered, trying to sound bored.

Dick’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. He leaned back, exhaling slow, like he had to force the words into order. “You know we can’t keep putting this off, right? You’re going to have to talk to Bruce eventually. I got a call earlier from him, he's been wondering why l am still at my safehouse and why you're here. He caught us coming in on the hallway camera. He knows something's wrong.”

Jason’s eyes flashed, his whole body stiffening. He already hated this conversation.

Jason’s nails tapped against the marble, sharp little ticks betraying his nerves. “You can’t make me tell him,” he said finally, voice clipped, low. “ You can’t. This—this is between me and Bruce. Not you, It's my choice.”

Dick leaned forward again, elbows firm on the counter, eyes narrowing. “Jay, what are you so scared of? It’s Bruce. He’s going to find out eventually. Wouldn’t you rather he hears it from you than—than him finding out, wouldn't you rather it be on your own terms?”

Jason flinched like the words had teeth. His throat tightened, anger sparking fast and ugly to cover the panic creeping in. “You think I want him involved in this? You think I want to hand him more reasons to look at me like I’m weak, not good enough? I mean how many omega vigilantes and hero's do you know? Apart from Hal Jordan and Jhon Constantine. No fucking way. I can’t—” He cut himself off, pressing a hand against his stomach, cramps burning, eyes darting away.

Dick’s voice softened, though the steel was still there. “What are you really scared of Jason? Come on tell me.”

The words hit dead-on. Jason’s chest caved in around them, heat rising in his face, rage and hurt tangling so tight he didn’t know which one would break out first. He wanted to shout, wanted to tell Dick to shut the hell up, but the knot in his throat strangled the words.

What was he really scared of. He was scared of Bruce caring and ruining his life even more, of making a big deal out of this and deciding he was a liability, too weak to be on the field, of making Jason come home.

He was scared of him not caring at all, of it not making any difference whatsoever.

Before he could force anything out, there was a sharp, steady knock at the front door.

Both their heads snapped toward the sound. Jason’s heart stuttered in his chest, every muscle coiling tight. He looked at Dick like he’d been betrayed. “You didn’t.”

Dick held up a hand, brows pulling together. “I didn’t. I swear.”

The knock came again, lighter this time. Patient. Familiar.

Jason’s stomach dropped. “…That’s Tim, isn't it. Do you think Bruce sent him.”

Dick grimaced at Jason’s words, then gave a tight nod. “Don’t move.” His voice had that command edge, the one Jason bristled at on instinct. Still, Jason froze in place, every muscle wired.

Dick crossed to the door and pulled it open.

Tim stood on the other side, hoodie zipped halfway, laptop bag slung over his shoulder, his expression sharper than usual. He didn’t bother with greetings. “Dick. What’s going on? Bruce is freaking out back at the cave. You know the thing—he just sits in the chair, staring at the monitors, not touching anything, not saying a word. He hasn’t moved for hours. It’s—” he shook his head. “It’s got us all spooked, Demon brat is close storming in here you know. You need to tell me what’s happening.”

Dick’s mouth tightened, his body blocking the doorway. “It’s fine, Tim. Jason’s here with me. He’s safe. You don’t need to worry.”

Tim’s brows shot up. “Is he hurt?”

“No,” Dick said quickly. “Not hurt.” He glanced over his shoulder, back toward the kitchen, imploring.

Jason sat rigid at the counter, fists clenched, heart pounding against his ribs. He could feel the question radiating from Dick—stay put, should l tell him or not—but the words stuck like a burr in his chest. He wasn’t some pathetic little omega that needed his Alpha brother to handle shit for him. Especially not hiding him from our younger brother.

Tim’s nose twitched, his head tilting slightly, nose scrunching up in disgust. “Wait. What’s that smell?” His gaze flicked past Dick. “You have an omega in there, really Dick, what the hell are you and Jason doing in there?”

That was it.

Jason shot up so fast his chair scraped the floor. Pride roared hotter than fear, burning off the edges of his panic. He stormed out from behind the island, arms crossed tight, scowl carved into his face.

“Don’t just stand there gawking,” Jason snapped, glaring squarely at Tim. “Come inside, idiot.”

 

Jason could have laughed at Tim’s expression if he wasn’t so busy wanting to crawl out of his skin. His little brother looked like someone had just told him the earth was flat.

Beat-up Converse, scuffed to hell. A hoodie that had definitely seen better days. If you didn’t know better, you’d never guess this was the same kid who kept Wayne Enterprises running in his “spare time.” Jason’s eyes flicked over the dark circles dragging Tim’s face down, the exhaustion etched into every line—he’d probably been buried in some insane case for days. And then there was his mouth, hanging open, a perfect little picture of shock.

And the scent. God, the scent. Cedarwood and coffee, sharp enough to sting, layered with the thick, unmistakable weight of an alpha’s musk rising in pure shock. It was stinking up the hallway, filling Jason’s lungs whether he wanted it to or not.

His chest tightened, a strange, traitorous little flutter winding through him. His omega stirred in the back of his mind, purring, cooing, pleased. Like it wanted to nuzzle close, wanted to scent Tim, wanted to—God help him—mother his baby brother. Oh God.

Jason nearly gagged on the thought. No. Absolutely not. He snagged Tim by the arm and pulled him inside and slammed the door shut on the instinct so fast it left him rattled.

Tim was still frozen on the threshold, eyes wide, while Dick buried his face in his hands and muttered curses under his breath.

Jason ground his teeth, scowl deepening. “Well? I told you to come inside. And close your damn mouth before you catch flies. Fucking Idiot.”

Chapter Text

Tim sat perched on one of the stools at Dick’s kitchen island, still half-frozen, hands clasped too tightly around a mug of coffee (de-caff) that had long gone cold. Across from him, Jason sat rigidly, arms crossed over his chest tightly. He glared back, the kind of sharp, simmering stare that can be felt even through his stupid helmet.

Tim couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop seeing. Every instinct in his head insisted he’d misheard, that his brain was fried from countless nights not sleeping so what he was smelling was surely not real, that this was some cruel joke, some twisted test of observation, his big brother didn't smell that sweet. Jason Todd — the Red Hood, the walking personification of volatility, the guy who once popped his shoulders out of its socket to slip free out of some chains and popped it right back in to fight — an omega? His brain short-circuited at the thought. Objectively, he knew omegas could fight, that Omega's could be amazing heroes, but the way Jason fought, it was purely Alpha. He had known his Alpha scent was artificial and that he was probably a beta, but he never acknowledged it, in his mind Jason only fit an Alpha, he was emotional and easy to anger -sensitive just like all omegas, that's why they had to be careful with them-- and the way he fought and behaved was so raw, like he simply couldn't help himself, his chaos was so brazen and uncontainable, so much that he could feel it just being near him.

However Tim was a detective, he was logical and rational, and he knew that Omega and Alpha traits where two sides of the same coin, they were perfect opposites of each other, but they walked the same line, they were the same coin just facing different directions. Those actions could easily be seen as actions of a feral Omega who didn't feel safe, who needed to be brought to heel with gentle discipline.

He’d come here thinking Bruce was overreacting again, that whatever had made the Bat brood in the Cave couldn’t possibly justify such a reaction. He was now glad he'd come all this was across the city.

Tim’s gaze flicked toward Dick, desperate for some kind of anchor. Dick stood by the counter, perfectly composed, sleeves rolled up, stirring tea like this was any other awkward family reunion. His expression was careful, neutral — practiced calm radiating off him. It made no sense. How was Dick being so calm right now, he knows Dick had been with Jason since his presentation but how could he be completely ok with this, why isn't he sharing Tim's shock.

That pissed him off a little.

Tim always prided himself about how much he could see from people, how easily he saw through them. But now it feels like he's outside of something, something he's been blind to, he thought he had Jason as person pat down, that he knew him and could read him, after all Jason can't hide his emotions, which Tim admires in a way, it makes Jason a stronger and more skilled fighter in a different way than them, completely unpredictable and uncontrolled. However, it's clear to Tim now that he doesn't know Jason at all, or at least not as much as he though he did, but Dick does, Dick knows something beyond what Tim is able to see. He hates it, because it makes him remember that Dick and Jason have known each other for much longer, they have an insider sort of knowledge that Tim can't have. With Jason he sort of liked to tell himself that he was a completely different person from before, so without the baggage that the others have, he thought he was able to understand who he is now much more clearly in a way they couldn't, and that he was able to understand Dick better than Jason since he'd been gone for so long. Tim hated being outside of anything, clinging to the outskirts of a family he wanted so bad, he needed to know everything about everyone at all times, that way he'd always be involved.

Tim is starting to realise that he'd been quite stupid in thinking any of that.

He saw Dick's eyes snap to Jason and that snapped him out of his thoughts.

 

Dick's eyes caught on Jason. Something had shifted. Jason was standing a little too still, shoulders drawn tight, eyes fixed on a point that wasn’t really there. The small openness Dick had seen that morning—the unguarded softness, the quiet trust peeking through—was gone. In its place was the old, brittle mask Dick knew too well.
His soft Omega brother that had started to relax in front of Dick was disappearing before his eyes.

 

Dick’s stomach twisted. Jason closing himself off now, right after presenting, wasn’t just annoying in terms of the progress he'd made disappearing, it was dangerous. He’d barely begun to settle into the new instincts tearing through him, ff he shut down now, if he bottled everything again, it would only make the crash harder later. Omegas aren't supposed to hide themselves in this manner, especially in front their Alphas, their packmates, the tension and volatile emotions he can see in Jason's face are dangerous right now as a newly presented Omega.

 

“Jason,” Dick said softly.

Jason didn’t look at him. So, Dick shifted, steadying his stance, he let his own scent—calm, grounded, unmistakably Alpha—roll through the room in a slow wave, meant to steady, to soothe. He shifted, lifting his arm to scent Jason, ready to wipe all that shame and fear he can smell on his little brother and cover it with his own protective, loving Alpha scent, however that seemed to be the wrong move.

Jason’s jaw tightened, and then he snapped, voice sharp and shaking, “Don't fucking touch me.” Jason's eyes where slightly panicked, clear startling blues turning darker, his body tense and coiled up so tight, he felt slightly worried his brother was going to pull a muscle. Still.

The words hit like a slap, Tim startled, his body tensing like he was ready to intervene if necessary. Dick didn’t have time to focus on Tim right now, his omega packmate needed him after all, while the words started him, he’d half expected the reaction. Jason was still raw, instincts tangled with pride and fear, this wasn’t disobedience for the sake of rebelling against his Alpha—it was defence. Still, the flash of defiance stung at a particular point of his Alpha sensibilities he hadn't been able to shove down since biting Jason, his omega packmate was scared and ashamed and he wanted to soothe that, forcibly if necessary, that was his job as his Alpha, his elder packmate, but he was also itching to discipline his brother for disobeying his command so clearly, Jason wasn't supposed to be subservient to Dick, but he was supposed to follow his Alpha commands if they were said in mind of Jason's safety and comfort, he most definitely cannot reject Dick's scenting. He was slightly annoyed at that, they'd gone over scenting a lot, Jason was supposed to be a good boy and allow Dick to scent him whenever he felt like it, he should always smell of his Alphas, of his family. That way he was safe, protected and happy, that way other Alphas would stay away, they would know there would be repercussions if they messed with this particular omega.

 

Dick exhaled through his nose, narrowing his eyes just a fraction, expecting to be obeyed. “Enough,” he said quietly, the word low but edged with steel. His scent pressed down heavier now—controlled, dominant. “You need to take a minute. Go sit on my bed, cool off. I’ll talk to you when you're calmer.”

Jason’s head jerked toward him, then to Tim, who stood frozen at the edge of the room, the command landed in his chest, and something in him wanted to move, to obey—but shame flooded in just as quickly. He wasn’t some kid to be ordered around, not in front of Tim, this is what he didn't want, what he dreaded. “Don’t talk to me like that, where the fuck do you get off,” Jason snapped, heat crawling up his neck. He tried for anger, but his voice trembled, undercut by something smaller, he hated how weak it sounded. He was humiliated, his fears coming to life, Dick was being cruel, ordering Jason around in front of Tim, he'd let himself slip this morning, been to vulnerable and complacent in front of Dick. What was truly terrifying was that Jason's usual anger he could hide behind was gone, the anger he used to hide his vulnerabilities and softness wasn't there. In its place was fear and shame. That only made him panic, which caused more venom to slip out of his mouth.

"You think just 'cause l let you bite me l am suddenly your bitch or something," he snarled, a bitter spiteful smirk spreading across his face, sharp teeth bared as he glared stormy blue eyes at Dick, he needed Dick to get angry, it would make getting his walls back up so much easier, he needed furious words snapped back at him so he could get angry enough to actually leave, to forget how warm his brother's arms had been around him when he was scenting him, how good it had felt. "Don't mistake this for more than it actually is Dickhead, don't forget who l am, we're not gonna be playing happy family at the manor with me at you and Bruce's feet if that's what you've been holding out for."

Dick’s expression didn’t change, eyes as calm as ever, like almost always he couldn't just rise to the bait, he had to go and make Jason feel like a stupid fucking child throwing a tantrum, like his anger and fear weren't justified, Tim and all the other brats watching him act like a fucking idiot who couldn’t control himself in front of the great golden boy Nightwing. Always acting like he was in complete control of the situation, of Jason.

Jason could feel it—his control slipping. He regretted opening the door earlier, regretted letting Tim see him like this, small and shaken and not in control. He should’ve known better, should’ve kept his walls up, kept the mask on. He’d spent years making sure no one could see past it, no one could read him, no one could call him fragile. Weak, soft, breakable. But now it was useless. He thought he was hiding it, thought his façade had settled back in place, but both of them could see right through it—smell right through it. Distress, shamed, scared omega was bleeding into the air. He'd forgotten they could smell him, he'd been unpresented so long he'd never had to worry about that, the thought of Dick, or hell even worse, Tim, smelling that made him so nauseas, Jason could suddenly feel how much his lower stomach was cramping, sharp pains making him realise how vulnerable he was right now.

Jason’s chest ached. He turned his head toward Tim and found those sharp eyes on him, saw how they were assessing, dissecting, seeing. Jason’s breath hitched, his fight or flight kicking hard. “Stop looking at me like that,” he yelled, the words rough around the edges, control finally snapping, fear and shame rushing in and blurring his senses.

He needed out. Out of the room, out from under their eyes, away from the suffocating press of realization that he wasn’t fooling anyone anymore. His pulse thundered in his ears as he moved for the door, words spilling before he could stop them—

Then suddenly all he felt was warmth.

Delicious traitorous warmth curling in his chest as a large hand grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed. Hard.

Painful and reprimanding, clearly meant to force the disobedience and shame out of his body, his head suddenly felt like cotton, unable to draw up a single though apart from Alpha, his Omega suddenly in complete control of him.

All he wanted was his Alpha.

Why had he been so angry and scared before, there was no need to be scared, his Alpha was here, his Alpha would protect him, cuddle him, love him.

“Shhh, baby,” Dick whispered, he suddenly felt his scent glands being gently and firmly worked on, his big brother's protective familial scent surrounding him, owing him, showing him his place, below his Alpha but not degradingly, he was so precious and so loved that had to be below his Alphas so they protect him and give him what he needs, he wanted to be there, there wasn't a better place in the world.

“I am not mad at you baby, please calm down, l am sorry for being so rough with you, you didn't like how I spoke to you in front of Tim did you, l should have been more careful little wing, l promise I’ll speak to you as gently as l can from now on ok, you're always pretending to be so tough in front of your big brother so l got a bit careless. But you're just a little omega, aren't you, my little omega brother, you're so sweet, l knew you'd be sweet,” Dick was cooing in Jason's face as he held him closely in a bed, wait a bed?

Jason's head was fuzzy, he didn’t know what he was doing or where he was, but he thought they'd been in the kitchen, when had they moved? This was too confusing.

Jason didn't understand why his brother was being so nice to him, hadn't he been mad Jason before because he was a bad omega, he was a really bad omega, he didn't know how to be a good one, trying was scary but right now, he couldn't remember why trying to be a good omega for his brother was so scary, that's all he wanted to be, he wanted to be good and be told he was good, he wanted to be cuddled all time and to smell like his brother and his dad, and he wanted his little brothers to smell like him. But they didn't want Jason anymore, because he was mean and unlovable and he was bad, bad, bad, bad. The though made Jason let out a loud hurt whimper and that's when he realised, he'd been whimpering and whining this whole time, that's why Dick had gently led him to his bed and cuddled him close trying to comfort him, leaving Tim behind. He realised he was clinging to his brother's shirt in two tight fists, like a little kid, mouthing and suckling his brother's scent gland to self soothe like all omega's did when they were scared or hurt and his brother was pumping out safelovealphapossesive in the air to try and calm him down, but he wasn't dislodging Jason from him and he was letting his suckle on his scent gland, in fact he smelt very pleased, why was he happy Jason was doing this, shouldn't he be disgusted at how Jason was acting?

“Come on don't be upset little wing, you're breaking my heart,” Dick whispers in his ear, a slight hitch to his voice letting Jason know that he was upset. The though made Jason whine even louder in distress, his body curling even more on top of his brother. He's such a bad omega, all he was good for was for making people angry and upset, he couldn't even make his Alpha happy and that's the very basic of what omegas are supposed to do. Distantly, Jason is slightly aware that his thoughts are upsetting him so much that he'd started crying, his mouth sucking harder on his brother's scent gland, scent souring even more.

“Okay little wing, let me try something, l think this will make you feel better,” Dick said, his voice honey sweet in his ear, breath ticking the hairs at the back of his nape. Suddenly, Jason was placed on top of the bed, quickly and gently, the fast movements made not startle and make Jason panic, Dick switching their positions and placing himself on top of Jason with a swiftness only a born acrobat could do- or someone trained by the bat. Jason was confused, the sudden movement confusing him enough that more tears sprang from his eyes, he opened his mouth to let out another distressed sound-

He blinked, suddenly so warm and comfortable that the whine at his throat died, Dick had pressed himself on top of Jason tightly, his strong arms enveloping him, face still pressed tightly on the Alpha's scent gland, the warmth and pressure the switch in position was offering felt so good that it was startling, leaving Jason blinking in confusion, his omega calming down feeling safer, Jason slowed down his furious suckling to a pace that he was sure felt more comfortable to his brother. A whine left his throat, but instead of upset, he sounded confused and pleased, if Jason had his faculties in order he would've felt supremely embarrassed by that sound.

A warm chuckle wafted through him causing warmth to spread through his body, a drunk sounding giggle left Jason, but that didn't make sense, Jason didn't giggle. It felt like he was floating, only slightly conscious enough to be present for what was happening, something else was in control of him, his omega, he didn't really remember how that happened though, his mind felt like cotton, he was struggling to make sense of himself or his emotions, he was struggling to care enough to everything felt so good and safe right now, so warm, his omega felt so very pleased that a sound he'd never made before, a sound that used glands inside his throat he didn't even know he had slipped through. It sounded like a purr, he blinked again realising that he'd stopped suckling on his Alpha's scent gland and he was now purring into Dick's neck, curling and squirming a bit like a cat under the weight.
“Oh my god, you're adorable,” Dick whispered into his curls, another breathless laugh escaping him. He shifted slightly putting even more pressure on Jason, now completely lying on top of him, like he was trying to encapsulate him, covering him from unwanted eyes, and protecting him from danger just like a good Alpha should. There was a pause where Jason continued purring lowly, Dick's breathing fanning through his hair, a calm had spread through the room, pleased omega pheromones mixing with approving, relived Alpha, the only sound heard being the clock in the living room ticking, a slight rustle coming from the curtains at the corner of the bedroom, the mid afternoon sun slipping through the cracked window, its gold now spilling lazily across the floorboards, softening every sharp edge in the room. The air was still thick with the mellow traces of calm pheromones, and Dick let himself breathe out slowly, his hand still resting in Jason’s hair.

 

“Tim, buddy come on out from there, he's calm now," Dick called out, low enough not to startle Jason, who looked out of it enough that it wouldn't bother him, the purring had stopped, a small smile was still plastered on his face, blue eyes half- lidded, relaxed and sweet just like all omegas should be.

The door creaked, predictably, a beat later.

Tim slipped through the small gap like a shadow — wide-eyed, shoulders tight, but trying to look like he wasn’t worried. Dick almost smiled. For someone who presented himself so mature and put together, Tim could never hide that he was in fact just seventeen years old.

“Come on in,” Dick said gently, shifting just enough to make space at the bedside.

Tim hesitated, gaze flicking from Dick to Jason and back again, feet slightly dragging on the floor as he came closer. Jason looked nothing like himself — no sharp edges, no simmering energy under the skin. Just a soft, peaceful expression that made him look youthful, almost innocent, his real age.

“I still can’t believe this is Jason, that this is real” Tim said finally, voice low. There was something raw under the words — disbelief, yes, but also something smaller, quieter. Longing maybe.

Dick didn’t answer right away. He could feel it — the mix of Tim’s teenage Alpha scent clouding the air, faint but telling. Nervous, uncertain, a little envious in ways Tim probably didn’t even understand himself. It tugged at Dick’s chest. At his core, Tim will always just be a small thirteen year old Alpha boy, eyes too big for his sharp pale face, a fierce longing to be loved, to be included.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “After the initial shock from Leslie's call faded, it honestly made sense to me, we always though he'd present omega before, well you know.”

Tim nodded, eyes still fixed on Jason, something fragile flickering in them as he hungrily took in Dick's words, always wanting to know about before.

His sharp dark blue eyes flickered upwards, shyly, but still determined. “Dick what—what exactly happened?” Tim’s voice wavered between hesitation and the quiet steel that always came through when he wanted answers.

Dick exhaled slowly, fingers curling slightly into Jason's curls. "Leslie called me last night, told me Jason had presented into an omega” he said after a pause. “Honestly l didn’t really believe her, but l rushed to the clinic anyways," a breathless laugh escaped Dick, his perfect appearance looking slightly haggard, thick black hair mussed up and standing in different directions, Tim could imagine the shock when he'd made it in. "Leslie said his body had frozen or something unable to fully present. When Jason died… his body was right on the edge of presenting. Everything was lined up for it to happen. But then—” He stopped, his throat tightening before he forced the words out. “Then he died. And when he came back, the pit fixed what was broken, but it also… froze that part of him. His body just never finished what it started.”

Tim’s brows furrowed, his mind already processing, categorizing, understanding. Dick could almost see it happening behind those sharp blue eyes.

“Leslie said it’s not uncommon,” Dick continued, his voice softer now. “People who go through… things like that. Trauma. Sometimes their instincts just shut down for survival. He was in danger all the time after coming back. His body didn’t think it was safe enough to present.”

Dick sighed, looking truly tired, he couldn't really believe it was just yesterday, he felt like he'd gone through a month's long war with Jason, not that he'd have it any other way. "Then last night, out of nowhere… it just happened. Leslie said it was like his body finally got the message that he’s safe now.”

Tim nodded slowly, the pieces clicking together in his head. “That actually makes perfect sense,” he murmured. His brows drew together, frustration flickering across his face. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. I though he was a beta, a small chance of him being an Alpha but masquerading his true scent, but an unpresented omega, that's insane.”

Dick gave him a small, understanding smile. “Very insane, but l am not going to sit here and lie to you, "he hesitated, like he wasn't sure he should say this but wanted to. " Not sure how Jason would take this so l am probably never going to tell him.” He paused, brows furrowing together like he was searching for the right words. " I am sorry Jason is going through such a tough time and God knows l am grateful to Leslie, Jason would never have called me voluntarily. But I- I am happy this happened," Dick set his jaw meeting Tim's started expression, " all this time, it feels like l'd lost an important part of me, even with Jason coming back, of course l was relived, but our old pack bond was still mangled, only a thin thread left, and before, me and Bruce where ready for Jason to settle in a certain way for the pack, to fulfil a certain role, so this, this is exactly what we need, our pack is missing an omega, we're unstable in that way, too many Alpha's in one pack isn't good, everyone knows that" he paused again, blue eyes digging into Jason suddenly, a stubborn look set to his face, saying he wasn't sorry or guilty for feeling this way.

"I know this is going to be difficult for Jason, and l do feel bad for him, l wish he'd been an alpha instead If l though that was what he truly wanted deep down, society wise Jason is probably going to struggle a little bit, Tim my god, since yesterday, he has like almost no knowledge of what being an omega is, and he's so ashamed and it breaks my heart, none of you would really understand but l knew Jason from before, this is who he was always supposed to be. He's such a sweet omega when he lets his guard down, so adorable and reacts so submissively, defiantly no dominant genes there," he looks up to Tim again, a sardonic smile twisting his lips this time. Very, very rarely, probably because of some genetic mutations or unbalanced hormones, some Omega's would have dominant genes allocated only to Alpha's or some Alpha's would be more submissive than they should be, this usually let to health issues in the long run since it was such a contradiction of different instincts in a single being. " It has been a little tiring, but l've never felt so fulfilled Tim, my Alpha has never been so satisfied, this is what l always wished for with Jason, and l know he can be happy this way. He likes this deep down l can feel it now because of the bond, or else l wouldn't be happy at all, but he needs help first, to know that there is nothing to be ashamed of, that this is ok, he can have this," he was breathing fast now, surely tired from the slight speech and sorting through all those complicated emotions, Tim knew that Dick was gearing to ask him something, something he was unsure about.

Dick's blue eyes seemed to be searing through Tim's soul; his face twisted in a slightly pleading expression. "Please don't tell Bruce yet Tim, Jason's scared which is completely understandable, l want to respect his decisions as much as possible, and honestly l kind of agree. Bruce means well, l know that, but he can be… difficult at times, and this is going to be one of those times, this will go much smoother for everyone if Jason is more settled in his biology when he confronts Bruce, if he's in control of how it goes."

Tim had been listening in rapt attention whole time, eager to know, to understand, the words Dick had spilled out settled in his chest with disbelief, he knew his mouth was hanging open as he started at Dick slightly shocked. He rarely sees such complicated emotion on Dick's face, while his brother presents himself as the more openly emotional of the family, he was anything but, it was all a façade, Dick loved to extract his families issues from them and solve them, he was loving and attentive and kind of motherly for an Alpha, truly an amazing big brother, but Tim knew Dick rarely really shared what was bothering him, he never opened up emotionally to them- truly a closed book- and he also never, and Tim means absolutely never, talked about before. Tim had no idea Dick and Bruce were waiting for Jason to present omega of all things, that they'd been grieving that too, it feels like a piece of a puzzle he didn't even know he was trying to solve had settled in. His gaze drifted back to Jason for a beat— to the peaceful expression, the loosened posture, the faintest trace of a smile still resting on his lips. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “I won't say anything, l promise, you know l am good at keeping secrets.”

He looked up then, meeting Dick’s eyes, and for a moment Dick saw everything Tim wanted to say — empathy, determination, something almost like desperation and longing.

“I want to help,” Tim reiterated softly. Then, after a pause, his gaze sharpened. “I know Jason doesn't trust me as much as you, and that he's prickly, but l am also an Alpha in his pack, his brother, l really want to help.”

Dick’s lips parted — he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to say — " Jason does trust you Tim, he does more missions with you than with anybody, you know that, you have more access to crime alley than me," an encouraging smile spread across his face as he tried to reassure Tim. "Of course you can help Tim, l am sure l am going to need it."

Tim opened his mouth to respond when suddenly bright blue eyes, hazy and slightly drunk looking snapped to Tim, a while falling out of the omega's mouth. Both Dick and Tim froze.

Jason let out another whine, this one more insistent, he was pouting clearly wanting something they weren't giving him fast enough, he wriggled away slightly from under Dick and glanced petulantly at Tim, extending one arm as if to grab Tim, the sound came out louder, with a frustrated growl underneath, it wasn't really that threatening unless you were a puppy, omega growls where low and kind of cute- only sounding dangerous when they were truly angry or afraid, or protecting their pups- nothing like an Alpha's.

Tim stumbled away, eyes wide and nervous, he had the distinct feeling that he was being scolded but he didn't really know why, Tim hadn't been that in contact with omegas, both his parents where betas and most of his nannies too." Oh god am l upsetting him- l didn't mean it truly, I- I’ll wait in the living room ok- "

A slight giggle left Dick, which started Tim even further, the sound shocking him even more and this time slightly offending him, he really didn't think this was time to be laughing at him, he snapped up to scowl at Dick's amused and frankly delighted expression.

Dick smiled even wider at the scowl, now definitely amused at Tim's expense. " I though you said you'd help you dummy, he wants to you in here, God l should of built a nest, Jason needs a nest, we'll tackle that tomorrow," he stopped his rambling and focused again when Jason started struggling a little harder. " Well come on Tim, he's calling for a puppy, that's what that sound means y'know, get in here" he raised an eyebrow expectantly at Tim now.

Tim hesitated slightly, looking slightly started like he couldn't believe that's what Jason really wanted, which is kind of stupid Dick though, omegas always wanted puppies, and Tim is Jason's younger brother, it was kind of obvious. He approached the bed wearily, like it was one of Scarecrow's traps, hands fiddling with the frayed edges of his hoodie, he stepped in the bed and paused slightly like he was wating to be pushed off when suddenly Jason grabbed him and pressed him to his chest, cradling him like a baby chick, Tim yelled at the sudden movement, arms flailing before he was forcefully settled. Jason let out a delighted purr and pressed Tim's face to his now bigger and rounder chest, before settling with a content sigh.

Tim's hilariously shocked and frantic expression met Dick's delighted one as if he were asking for help. " Dick, what the fuck- what is he doing, get him off, l am not a baby," he protested fervently, a slight blush rising on his face. His scent betrayed him though, Tim's scent of cedarwood and coffee rose in shock, embarrassment, and slight pleasure that Dick could smell and grin at, honestly Tim was starting to think he was going to split his face open with how happy he looked. " No can do baby bird, he'd probably break my neck, you never take a puppy from an omega," he glanced at Tim's outraged expression at the word puppy, eyes laughing," besides you need the rest, come now, nap time."

Then he shifted, laying his arm across both Jason and Tim and settled in, an exaggerated sigh escaping him. Tim sputtered for a bit to try and save face but it's not like he could break out of both of his big brothers hold.

Dick closed his eyes like he was already asleep.

Bastard.

Chapter Text

Dick should have seen this coming.

 

Jason almost wants to snort at the thought as he rapidly jumps across rooftops, wind harshly tearing at his clothes, whipping strands of hair into his eyes. The city is half-asleep beneath him, soft blue and yellow light crawling across the rooftops, the streets still damp and air frigid because of the night fog. Gotham always looked different at dawn , it was the only moment of the day where it actually felt quieter, slower, like it was finally resting before the usual horrors woke up.

 

He lands hard, knees bending to absorb the impact, the jolt crawling up through his legs and settling deep in his chest. He doesn’t stop. Can’t. The steady rhythm of movement, continuous leaps and jumps, keeps his thoughts from unravelling too fast. Keeps him from thinking too hard about the apartment, about Dick’s note on the nightstand, or Tim still curled sleeping deeply on his chest. They really needed to stage an intervention, Tim never slept, awake for days on end working on cases or WE deals until deep bone exhaustion set in, so that when he finally does drop, it's almost impossible to wake him, sleep debt catching up on him. Jason was slightly surprised Alfred or Dick hadn't tried harder to stop him.

 

He shakes his head slightly, his thoughts going back to his main issue. A safe house. That’s what he needs. Somewhere quiet and untouched. Only a select few are hidden from Oracle and he usually wouldn't want to waste them, but to his thundering pulse and the panic clawing up his throat, this was registering as an emergency. He needed somewhere that felt like his and his alone, no outside forces looking in.

 

As he runs, his thoughts chase him. He’s not angry, not really. If he’s being logical — and he’s trying, god knows he’s trying — he understands why Dick did what he did. Freshly presented, new instincts clawing under his skin, every nerve still adjusting, it can even affect Alphas in a pack, especially such hyper dominant ones, add a fresh bond on top of that and he can see why Dick felt the need to completely override him and take complete control. It's purely biological, he can even feel a slight slither of guilt crawling in his chest, he does know that he shouldn't be leaving, he needs to stay with his freshly bonded Alpha for a while, hell, normal presentations take a month to settle, but his wacked biology and health probably mean he's more at risk. Dick didn't actually do anything wrong, it's his right to. It's logical.

 

 

But logic doesn’t make the twisting feeling in his gut disappear.

 

Because for all the calm, the warmth, the giddy comfort, fondness and affection that came with Dick’s touch — the grounding weight of a hand in his hair, the wordless command that made everything inside him go quiet — it still felt wrong once Tim saw it. Once Jason saw himself through Tim’s eyes.

 

Vulnerable. Controlled. Small.

 

He hated that. He felt reality crash in the bubble he'd felt around himself since Dick first dragged him to his apartment. When it was just him and Dick it felt easier,  but looking into Tim's eyes and seeing himself acting that way. Letting himself act that way caused such wild panic and fear, such shame and embarrassment at himself. It felt like he'd betrayed himself.

 

Dick should have known better — or maybe he shouldn’t have, because this has always been how they work. Jason burns too hot, Dick reins him in. It’s been that way since the beginning. Dick doesn’t mean to manipulate; he just does. He moves people the way he breathes. Jason knows that he has let Dick jerk him around a little ever since the clinic, let himself be pushed around, but he'd felt so lost and confused and he had known Dick would know what to do, even if he didn't want to admit it the trust came easy right now, he actually always had to work harder not to trust Dick, to be prickly and angry, and mean. It was ten times harder to pretend to hate his brother then to just let go, but he had to or else too much would slip.

 

 

 And Jason, for all his walls, always lets him in. He's weak against his older brother, always has been, love and slight hero worship making him feel small. Vulnerable, forever little in the face of fond cerulean blue eyes, even as he has now grown slightly taller, Dick still towers over him. It's been that way since he was just a pup —  a therapist would probably tell him he needs to work on his continues idolization of his older brother, although, they would probably have strong feelings about Dick's attachment to him and the way he babies Jason, so, whatever.    

 

Maybe that’s what stings most, he knows it's biology but the spoiled, easily hurt part of him feels like Dick should have risen above that. It's not even a matter of not trusting Tim, Dick knows how much he values his image, his independence and strength, the way he carries himself in front of his younger siblings. To be talked that way in front of Tim had left Jason feeling betrayed, to scruff him too like he's a misbehaving pup who can't be trusted and whose feelings don't matter has deep hurt clogging his throat and his eyes burning. And why can't he stop fucking crying.

 

 

“I am not mad at you baby, please calm down, l am sorry for being so rough with you, you didn't like how I spoke to you in front of Tim did you, l should have been more careful little wing, l promise l'll speak to you as gently as l can from now on ok, you're always pretending to be so tough in front of your big brother so l got a bit careless. But you're just a little omega, aren't you, my little omega brother, you're so sweet, l knew you'd be sweet.”

 

 

The rapid memory from last night rushing in almost knocks him off the roof he'd just landed on has him gaping. Warmth rushes to his face, as he feels himself blushing from chest to ears, almost choking on his breath as the sweet words play on his brain. What the fuck, he blinks rapidly trying to remember more but only coming up with fuzzy memories and warm safe sensations. Then he swallows harshly and shakes his head, no, he does not want to remember, what the hell is wrong with him, he shoves those stupid embarrassing - and they are embarrassing, he doesn't like them at all, no sir- words down and starts running faster, the sooner he gets to his safehouse, the faster he can shove his face in a pillow and scream.

 

 

 

He remembers waking up this morning, the faint smell of coffee, a scrap of paper with Dick’s handwriting — Back soon, getting breakfast. Don’t go anywhere.

 

Tim had been asleep beside him, a dead weight of warmth and exhaustion, the kind of deep sleep only someone running on fumes could manage. It had been too easy to slip out, too easy to take the window, to feel that first breath of cold air on his face.

 

In fact it had been a little too easy, if Dick truly didn't want him going he should of stayed and sent their little brother. Or maybe it was a test, a test to see how Jason would act as soon as he got the out.

 

Jason doesn’t know. He’s too tired to decide what's true and what makes him angry right now.

 

He clears another rooftop, slower now, chest heaving. The horizon is bleeding gold between the buildings, sunlight cutting through the fog. He angles toward one of his old safe houses — a small one tucked behind a run-down block near the Narrows. It’s empty, quiet, maybe still stocked with a few things he left months ago. It’ll do.

 

He just needs a minute. A place to breathe without someone watching. To gather his thoughts and examine how he feels, maybe talk to someone without an agenda.

 

 

 

 

 

Jason slips in through the narrow window, landing light on the worn floorboards. The air smells faintly of dust and old wood, it was stale, but not unpleasant. It’s been months since he’s been here, but the place still feels untouched. Barren walls, a few empty shelves, a small kitchenette half-covered in shadows. No bed but the old green couch is still where he left it, a red blanket folded on the armrest.

 

It’s quiet. That kind of quiet that hums in his ears, almost suffocating him.

 

He exhales, shoulders sagging as he drops down onto the couch. The springs creak under his weight, the air leaving his lungs in a shaky sigh. For the first time since he slipped out of the apartment, he’s still. No movement, no rooftops, no distractions — just him, his heartbeat, and the steady drip of water somewhere in the pipes.

 

The guilt creeps in slow. It always does.

 

He left his phone behind ,not by accident he realizes, but maybe because part of him didn’t want to see if he'd turn back if Dick called him. Didn’t want to hear the inevitable messages, didn’t want to see Dick’s name lighting up the screen. Out of sight, out of mind. For now.

 

He presses a hand to his eyes, dragging in a deep breath that trembles at the edges. He knows he shouldn’t have left. But he couldn't stay, didn't want to know what Tim thought of him now that he'd seen him cut open, his weaknesses in display for him to see. He didn't want to see Dick just yet, first he needed to sort out how he felt, he needed a goddam break and some fucking privacy, what he should and shouldn’t do pushed far away at the back of his mind.

 

 

 

Because he’s not wrong. He isn’t. He has every right to feel angry, embarrassed, exposed. But he also knows that, logically, Dick didn’t do anything wrong — and that knowledge makes the shame burn even hotter, because this what he is now, an omega, the scruffing and how Dick has been treating him doesn't actually bother him, he's man enough to admit he likes it, it's the fact that it doesn't bother him that has him feeling so ashamed, so conflicted, too much has changed in too little time and he doesn't really know who he is anymore, as dramatic as that sounds.

 

He grimaces as a dull ache twists through his stomach, pain curling low and heavy. Right. His period. Perfect timing. He lets out a humourless laugh, running a hand down his face. “Of course,” he mutters to himself, because apparently, the universe wasn’t done screwing with him yet. He should probably head down to the convenience store later, grab a few pads, but the thought of moving right now feels unbearable.

 

Instead, he leans back, stares at the ceiling, and tries to breathe through the cramps and the mess in his head. The guilt shame and anger swirling low in his gut.

 

The way his brother has spent the last two days looking at Jason like he was something fragile and precious, so patient and warm, would Bruce look at him that way. Ever since the truce, Bruce looks at him with this stunted , blank expression, stiff like he's holding back words and it makes him want to scream. Because what exactly are those words. He swallows, eyes digging into the blank dull celling, a cobweb catching his eyes. His thoughts feel rapid.

 

Dick had been good to him — better than Jason felt he deserved.

 

But then last night happened. The betrayal still fresh and stinging, he didn't know how to feel, because underneath all that tangled anger, another thought slithers in — cold and sharp and hard to breathe around. What if this makes Dick give up on him? What if he looks at Jason now and sees a mistake? A bad Omega. Too sharp, too defiant, too much trouble.

 

The thought hits harder than he wants to admit, and suddenly his eyes are stinging again. He swallows hard, dragging a hand through his hair and forcing the air out through his nose. “Get it together,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re fine. You’re—”

 

A sharp crash interrupts him — glass splintering, the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

 

Jason’s head snaps up just as a familiar voice curses from the window.

 

“Jesus Christ, Jay, you ever heard of curtains? Or maybe not putting a tripwire at window level?”

 

Stephanie Brown, purple and annoying, halfway through the window frame, tangled in what looks like a half-broken alarm wire, gives him a mocking glare, lips twisting into a playful smile.

 

Jason just stares for a long moment, blinking, the exhaustion in his chest colliding with disbelief and relief.

“Steph,” he says flatly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Steph smirks, opening her mouth, probably about to make some dumb joke  about his tripwire setup but then she goes still. Very still. Her grin falters, her eyes narrow, flicking over him, and for a long second, she just stares. Jason frowns, she looks like she's been possessed, her mouth is slightly open forming a perfect O, blue eyes wide and shocked. He stares at her right back like they're having a staring contest, because of course he does, he kind of wishes her scent patches weren't on so he'd have a clue on what was going on with the beta, because honestly she starting to freak him out a little.

 

 

And that’s when it hits him.

 

Oh.

 

Oh for fuck's sake.

 

In his hurry to get away from Dick and Tim he'd forgotten to put fucking scent patches on- he chooses to ignore how irresponsible that is and how disappointed Dick would be if he found out. Hell forget the stupid scent patches, he looks visibly different, to someone who didn't know him he could probably pass for an Alpha if he found a way to hide his chest and put on some baggy clothes, to someone who did know him, well it was quite fucking obvious. 

 

 

And now, because of his stupid mistake, Steph is just standing there, blinking at him, while his fresh sweet omega scent of vanilla, caramel and sour apples is very clearly displaying his panic. Distantly, he thinks they probably make a very funny pair right now, he's sure both of their expressions look downright comical.

 

 

 

For a moment, he panics, the usual part of him that's still ashamed, still unsure to this new version of him, because if he's not sure how to feel about it, how can other people be ok with it. But then he blinks and realises, it's a much more subsided version of what he felt for Dick or Tim, what he feels for any of the other bats or the other people in his life if they were to ever find out, and they are going to found. Steph is probably the closest thing he as to a best friend, well apart from Roy, but he's not allowing himself to think about Roy fucking Harper right now, and his complicated feelings towards his so called best friend, the very idea makes him sick to his stomach so no, back to Steph. He had a surprisingly easy time connecting with her, they're quite similar and have no complicated history or connection, so through shared coffee runs - she's the one who first introduced him to the glorious invention that is an iced caramel coffee- and waffle dates, they have a very easy, close friendship. Jason finds that he's morbidly curious about her reaction.

 

 

Then she exhales startling out of his thoughts, the sound shaky but soft. “Holy shit,” she says, voice small. “Jay, that's you right, I am not like hallucinating.”

 

 

 

He almost laughs — and holy shit he's laughing— because of course that’s what she’d say. “Yeah,” he mutters dryly. “Surprise.”

 

 

 

Her mouth opens even further and now he sort of wants to take a picture, she closes and opens her mouth a few more times before she sputters, “What the fuck, Jason? You—you didn’t tell me!?”

 

 

 

He drags a hand down his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been a little busy having a complete existential crisis.”

 

 

 

That earns a startled, incredulous laugh from her. The tension breaks just a little. Yeah, he's ok, or will be, thank fucking god for Steph.  “Oh my god,” she says, finally stepping the rest of the way into the apartment, kicking off her work boots. “You—you’re serious? You didn’t even—oh my god.” She gestures vaguely at him. “You look the same but, like, not. Like your whole face is—different. I don’t know how to explain it. This is insane. And those fucking knockers, damn Jay.”

 

 

 

“Sit your dramatic ass down before you trip over something else,” Jason mutters, tossing her a look as he leans back against the couch and graciously ignores the comment about his 'fucking knockers' because he honestly can't deal with that now. Steph drops onto the armchair opposite him and his ugly green sofa, tucking one leg under herself, still staring. She looks like she’s trying to decide between yelling, having a stroke or hugging him. Like he said, dramatic.

 

 

 

Jason sighs. “It’s… a long story. Very dramatic, you're probably going to get mad at me.”

 

 

 

She raises an eyebrow, shoving her purple hood down and tucking stray pieces of blonde hair behind her ear. “You got time. You've just given me the shock of a lifetime, l am probably too shocked to even get mad, because holy bat crap, what the hell.”

 

 

 

He huffs out something that’s almost a laugh. Then he tells her. He doesn’t want to tell her everything, but he finds he can't help himself, those earnest snarky blue eyes that he knows won't judge him, a fellow alley kid just like him, or close enough—the fight with Dick, the way things spiralled, the running like a little bitch, the mess in his head. And when he finishes, he braces for some sort of judgment, he expects her to side with Dick, to say something about him being a little dramatic, and that he shouldn't have run away, or get offended at his strong reaction at Tim since he knows how close they are. But instead, she just sits there for a long moment, quiet, thoughtful.

 

 

 

Then she says, simply, “Yeah. I get it.”

 

 

 

Jason blinks. “You… get it, what?”

 

 

 

“Yeah,” she says again, like it's obvious or something. “Like—okay, Dick does have a right to you, and you admitted you wouldn't have minded it if it just been you and him. But honestly, l didn't expect that out of him, he acted like a big batty brute, he should have been more mindful in front of Tim, and you're still so new to this." She leans forward, eyes wide and earnest, she reaches out to hold his hand and gives it a tiny squeeze. He squeezes right back, staring at her in complete shock.

 

"You’ve got every right to feel how you feel. That was a lot, for anyone,  and it’s not like you had time to process any of it. So, yeah. You’re allowed to be angry, or confused, or whatever else you’re feeling right now.” She smiles her big Steph smile, the one reserved for the people she really cares about.

 

 

 

He stares at her. Then he swallows the huge lump in his throat, squeezing her hand again, the relief in his chest almost bursting out of him, he didn't know how much he needed to talk to someone, to have someone validate his feelings. For a second he felt such strong familial adoration for her, he kind of wanted to jump her and give her a big hug, to cuddle in the sofa with her, or maybe a nest while watching some dumb movie with her while eating fucking waffles. Maybe have her pet his hair and feed him, like the dumb omega he apparently was.

 

“You're the first one who's made this whole mess sound so simple. And don't be too hard on Dick, he's been awesome and very fucking patient.”

 

 

“It is simple,” she says with a little shrug. “You bat boys are just overly complicated and annoying. And l know Dick didn't mean to screw up, his little brother presenting into an omega probably made him dumb Alpha brain combust.”

 

 

 

He leans his head back against the couch, eyes closing. “You're kind of awesome y'know, l am glad we're friends.”

 

 

 

“You should feel very lucky,” she says, grinning." And you know how awesome you are, also, seriously is that chest real." 

 

 

 

That earns her a quiet snort." Shut up before l panic again, you overgrown eggplant."  They lapse into a comfortable silence for a minute. Then, softly, Jason says, “I just—I don’t even recognize myself. I keep thinking I’m fine, that I’m the same person, but then something new happens, like fucking scenting or a goddamn period, and it’s like I’m back to square one. And it’s stupid, because it shouldn't be that big of a deal but it is. I am not sure how to feel about anything anymore.”

 

 

 

Steph studies him for a moment, eyes softening. “Jay, this is a bid deal, you presented like two fucking days ago, you know. You can take time to get used to shit. It's ok to like or feel comfortable with whatever makes you feel good, you can still kick ass regardless, it doesn't have to change you.”

 

 

 

He stares at her for a beat, the words settling in his mind, he turns them over and dissects them, unsure about how they make him feel. “Stop being emotionally smart, it's freaking me out.”

 

 

 

“Oh, shut up you little bitch,” she says grinning, standing up suddenly. “C’mon.”

 

 

 

He squints at her. “What?”

 

 

 

“Get up. We’re going back to mine, this safehouse is sad and very depressing.”

 

 

 

He blinks. “Steph, I’m—”

 

 

 

“Nope. Don’t care.” She’s already halfway to the door, mask dangling from her fingers. “We’re going to my apartment. First we'll get some snacks, maybe a pizza, definitely some waffles. You need to relax, all this stressful shit isn't actually good for you, newly presented omegas need to be calm and happy, because of all those wacky hormones.”

 

 

 

"Steph, what the fuck?”

 

 

 

She grins, the kind of grin that makes him instantly relax, and kind of excited to have some downtime, because he's honestly kind of tired, maybe after he's calmed down he can call Dick to apologise and demand an apology back. “ This place smells like guilty omega and self-loathing, and it's actually driving me crazy, come on.”

 

 

 

Despite himself, he laughs. It feels weirdly easy. Lighter than it has in days. “If you get waffles, l get burgers, and chocolate, lots of chocolate. I am craving it like crazy. I am also in need of some pads.”

 

 

 

“Deal. Now move your ass, Jaybird.”

 

 

 

He shakes his head, sighs, and pushes himself off the couch. Maybe it’s stupid. Maybe he should go back straight to Dick, face the music like a big boy. But when he looks at her — bright, ridiculous, absolutely refusing to treat him like he’s fragile and yet willing to accept new things from him at his own pace, with zero pressure — something inside him eases.

 

 

 

“Fine,” he says quietly. “Yeah ok let's go.”

 

 

 

And for the first time since he presented, he actually means it.