Archive of Our Own ^beta

Slade doesn’t often get time off. He doesn’t normally care much for football either. But there’s something about having the house to himself, nothing to do and no one to expect anything from him, a cool beer and a game, that feels right. That feels relaxing.

It’s not like Slade is doing anything special, but he gets to do nothing so little that when the door rings, his blood pressure instantly shoots through the roof.

For a moment, he considers just leaving it. If it’s a package, Dick can pick it up later. Slade isn’t expecting any guests and Dick is at work. It can’t be anything important.

The bell rings again, followed by someone rapping urgently on the door. Slade sighs and reluctantly goes to answer.

It’s Jason on the other side.

Slade blinks. He’s only met the kid a few times, at the occasional family gatherings he’d been invited to before Bruce had realised Dick was serious about him and flipped his lid, but he recognises the kid. His smell has the same coffee, linen, leather thread as Dick’s, although with a sharp tinge of citrus, rather than Dick’s warm caramel.

The scent coming off of him now is sour with pain and anxiety. The kid’s face is pale as a ghost and he’s trembling slightly. When he realises it’s Slade on the other side of the door, he startles, going stiff and tense.

“Jason?” Slade asks, surprised. If any of Dick’s family has been to the flat before, it was while Slade was out. He can’t imagine Bruce letting his teenage omega kid travel all the way to Bludhaven, by himself, in the middle of the day. “What are you doing here?”

Jason scowls. “Where’s Dick.”

“At work,” Slade says. “Like most people are in the middle of the day. Why aren’t you at school?”

Somehow, the scowl deepens. Still, the kid looks more anxious than angry. There’s a worrying shine to his eyes that Slade does not want to have to deal with.

“You’re not at work,” Jason says, accusingly. “Must be nice to be retired.”

Slade doesn’t rise to the bait. He’s heard enough jabs about his age over the years. “What are you doing here, kid?” he asks again.

Hopefully, it’s something simple - like an argument with his dad, or just hiding out after bunking from school. Although, it seems extreme to run all the way to another city.

“I need to talk to Dick.”

“He’s at work.”

“It’s an emergency.”

“I don’t care.”

“Please.”

Jason’s voice trembles. His arms are wrapped tight around his middle. His eyes are bright with unshed tears. Dick will kill Slade if he finds out he turned the kid away.

Slade steps back, holding the door open but leaving space for Jason to get past him. “Come in, then,” he grunts, already regretting his decision. “I’ll call him.”

For a moment, Jason doesn’t move, just squints up at Slade suspiciously. Slade rolls his eyes, then jerks his head.

“Before I change my mind, kid.”

That has Jason scuttling forward. As he inches past, Slade takes a subtle breath: hurt, anxious, the iron tang of blood.

Shit. Slade doesn’t see any obvious injuries, but that doesn’t mean anything. Jason is moving stiffly, and he’s still clutching his stomach. There could be injuries under his clothes. It’s clear that the pup is hurting somehow.

Slade shuts the door behind them and takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe. The last thing he wants to do on one of his few days off is handle Dick’s family issues, but he’s in it now. He needs to make sure the kid is okay.

“Want to tell me what the emergency is?” he asks, as he leads Jason down the hallway to the lounge.

Jason shakes his head, mutely.

“Dick will want to know.”

“Just tell him it’s - it’s urgent, okay?” His arms squeeze tighter around his stomach. Now that he’s in the flat, he seems smaller. As if he’s shrunk somehow.

“Fine,” Slade says. Hopefully Dick will be able to get back quickly and Slade can hand the reins over. “Sit down, kid.”

Jason flicks a glance at the expensive leather sofa. His face pinches. “Can I use the bathroom?”

“Through there,” Slade says, already pulling his phone out and dialling Dick’s number.

Dick picks up after only two rings. Slade has never called him at work before.

“Slade?” His voice is a little breathless and thick with concern.

“Hey little bird,” Slade purrs. Despite the circumstances, he can’t deny that it’s good to hear Dick’s voice. “We’ve got a bit of a situation.”

“What situation?” Dick asks, voice sharp.

“Your little brother’s here.”

For a moment, Dick is silent on the other end of the phone. Then, “My brother? Which one?” Then, before Slade can answer: “Jason?”

“Apparently it’s an emergency. I know you’re at work, but I need you to deal with this.”

The pitch of Dick’s voice ticks higher. “An emergency? Is Bruce-“

“No,” Slade interrupts. “The kid’s by himself. Smells like he’s bleeding but it doesn’t seem serious.”

“Okay,” Dick says, sounding stressed. “Shit. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just…just look after him, okay?”

“Don’t take too long,” Slade grunts.

The line clicks off without a goodbye. Slade sighs and resigns himself to spending the next twenty minutes with an upset teenager that he barely knows. He just needs to hold the fort until Dick’s back.

He slouches back to the couch and turns the volume up on the game. He keeps it quiet enough that he should be able to hear the kid if he shouts for him, but he doubts the pup will. Slade has met Jason before and they got on alright, although Slade thought he was a bit of a brat. Still, Slade hasn’t exactly made the best impression with most of Dick’s family. Especially considering he’s part of the reason Dick is in Bludhaven now, and no longer a five minute trip away.

Slade starts to take another swig of his beer, then thinks better of it. One bottle won’t be enough to get him drunk by a long shot, but he should probably be keeping a clear head, just in case this turns out to be more serious than it seems.

He sets the bottle down with a thunk. This is just typical, really. Slade tries to enjoy his first day off in weeks and Dick’s family have to make a nuisance of themselves.

Even though Jason isn’t even in the room, Slade can’t concentrate on the game. By the time ten minutes have passed and Jason still hasn’t reappeared, Slade is feeling…restless. Probably, he’s hiding out in the bathroom until Dick arrives, as uncomfortable with the idea of being alone with Slade as Slade is.

Or maybe he is injured and he’s bleeding out in the bathroom right now. An unsettling pulse of fear throbs in Slade’s chest. If Dick’s little brother dies on his watch…well, he has no idea what would happen, but he’s sure it wouldn’t be pretty.

Slade slips back out into the hallway and stops before the bathroom door. He tries to force the concern away. He’s not used to feeling like this about anyone but Dick. His own kids are adults now and have moved away and Slade doesn’t feel the same clutching fear when they’re out of his sight as he once had.

Slade lifts a hand to knock, but pauses at the soft sound of a sniffle from beyond the door. The pup isn’t passed out in a pool of his own blood, then. But he is crying. Slade cringes a little. Tears are not something he’s well equipped to handle.

“Jason?” he asks, just loud enough to be heard through the door. He raps his knuckles gently against the wood. “Is everything okay in there?”

A sharp sniffle. Slade waits, but Jason doesn’t reply.

The worry is only growing, no matter how hard Slade tries to force it away. “Jason,” he says again, louder, “you’ve been in there a while.”

Still no answer, although Slade can definitely hear him crying now.

“Jason,” he snaps, rapping hard against the door. He hears shuffling and a wet sound that’s almost certainly a sob, but no reply. “I’m coming in.”

Slade wouldn’t normally burst into a bathroom occupied by his mate’s thirteen year old brother, but the smell of blood is still in his nose and the lack of response is concerning him. He tries the handle. It’s locked, but Slade can jimmy it open if he wriggles it the right way.

He knocks again. “I’m coming in,” he repeats, loud enough that he’s almost shouting. There’s no way the kid can say he didn’t warn him.

He works the handle until he hears the click of the lock disengaging, then pushes the door open.

Jason is sitting on the toilet, his trousers bunched around his ankles. The room stinks of blood. It’s splattered over Jason’s thighs and soaking the underwear stretched between his legs. It’s dark and clumpy, jam-sticky against Jason’s skin. It’s wet, but it doesn’t smell…fresh, exactly.

If the kid has come all the way to Bludhaven and given Slade a heart attack because he’s started his period, Slade is going to kill him.

Except, the pure terror on Jason’s face when his head whips up stops Slade’s anger in its tracks. Tears shine on his flushed cheeks. His expression is twisted with pain and fear.

“Get out!” Jason yells, shrilly.

One hand is pressed between his legs. The other fumbles for the toilet paper roll sitting beside the toilet before launching it at Slade’s head. Slade ducks behind the door, pulling it to but not closing it.

“Jesus, kid,” he says, safely blocked from Jason’s line of sight, “you could have just answered me.”

“Go away,” Jason yells back. His voice is wet and high and strangled.

Maybe Slade is underestimating how much this is bothering the kid. Which is…fair, he supposes. It’s not like there are any other omegas in Dick’s family who could help him navigate this. The kid’s own dam isn’t here to walk him through it. Slade should try to be sympathetic.

Which actually isn’t that hard, with the soft sound of the kid crying and the memory of his terrified face and blood splattered legs.

“You, uh, you need anything, kid? Some…pads? Advil?”

A wet sniffle. “I need Dick,” Jason says, in a small voice.

“He’s coming. I can’t get him here any faster.”

“Please.”

“What’s going on?” Slade asks. He can’t quite keep the frustration out of his voice. “This seems like a bit of an overreaction to starting your period.”

He cringes as he says it. He’s a dad to three kids but only one of them is an omega and Slade had always let Addie handle anything cycle related. Talking about periods will never not feel awkward.

Jason makes an odd sound. “I’m not crying about my fucking period. I - I think -“ A wet sob. Then in a tiny, cracked voice: “I think I’m losing the baby.”

For a moment, Slade just stares blankly at the door before the words finally register. Losing the baby. Before he can think about it, he’s pushing the door open. Jason looks up at him with wild, wet eyes.

“You’re what?”

No fucking way. His mate’s thirteen year old brother is not having a miscarriage in Slade’s fucking bathroom.

Fresh tears spill over Jason’s cheeks. Bloodstained hands tremble against his thighs. “Please,” he whispers, wet and fragile. “Help me.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Slade closes the distance between them in a few quick steps, reaching down automatically to pull Jason to his feet. The kid flinches at the movement and something in Slade’s gut twists, but he lets himself be manhandled. At some point, he’d stuffed his underwear with toilet paper. Slade gets a glimpse of red streaked white before Jason yanks his pants back up around his hips.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Slade grunts. He starts to steer Jason out of the bathroom. He is not dealing with this by himself. “Dick can meet us there.”

Jason pulls against his grip. When Slade turns, he gives him a wild look. “No,” he says. “No I can’t - I can’t go to the hospital. Please.”

“Kid. I’m not going to let you bleed out in my bathroom because you don’t like doctors.”

“He’ll kill me,” Jason whispers.

Slade lets go of the kid. Something cold slithers through his stomach, an icy sort of rage. “Who will?” he asks. His voice is flat.

Of course, the pup didn’t put a baby in himself. Someone had to have gotten Jason pregnant. Some scum touched a thirteen year old, then made him too scared to even go to the hospital.

Angry alpha scent swells in the small space. Jason shakes his head, mute.

“Jason -”

“Slade?” Dick’s frantic voice cuts him off. The front door slams. “Jay?”

A strange mix of relief and something like anxiety curdles in Slade’s gut. Dick’s here, which means he can handle this, he can take the burden of dealing with this off of Slade. At the same time, Slade knows this is going to hurt his mate. If he’s angry at the thought of what might have happened to Jason, it’s going to destroy Dick.

It’s one of Slade’s deepest regrets - that the relationship he has with Dick has caused such strain with his mate’s family. Dick has always been close to his brothers. Slade knows it kills Dick to see them so rarely now.

“Stay here,” Slade tells Jason, gruff. The least he can do is give Dick a bit of warning.

The kid blinks at him, pale-faced and teary-eyed, but stays put as Slade moves out into the hallway. Dick is standing by the front door, still in his jacket and shoes, looking frazzled in a way that Slade has rarely seen him. When Slade steps out of the bathroom, Dick’s gaze snaps to him immediately. He starts forward and Slade meets him halfway, catching his arms to halt his momentum, trying to keep him relatively out of earshot of the pup.

“Where’s Jason?” Dick asks. His eyes flicker around the hall, sliding over Slade like he doesn’t even see him. “What happened?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” Slade says, keeping his voice low. “He’s -” Slade starts to say fine, then reconsiders, “- not in immediate danger.”

Dick’s face twists. Slade can smell the panic on his mate, a sharp, sour note to the familiar warm caramel of his scent. The thread of his pack smell seems stronger now. It makes Slade’s chest ache in a strange way.

“What happened?” Dick asks again, in a hoarse voice.

“Jason thinks he’s miscarrying.”

That gets Dick to look at him. For a moment he just stares up at Slade, blank-faced, eyes wide. Then he lets out a sharp, strangled laugh.

“Miscarrying?” he shakes his head. “No he’s not. He’s thirteen, he’s not - he’s not…miscarrying.”

“Do I look like a doctor? I’m just telling you -”

“Dick?” The quiet voice cuts Slade off as effectively as if Jason had shouted. Dick’s eyes snap over Slade’s shoulder. Slade glances over, too. The little omega is standing half-behind the bathroom door, wet eyes fixed on Dick.

Dick shakes Slade off and moves towards Jason in quick, jerky steps. The moment he gets close enough, the omega throws himself at Dick, who catches him with the ease of practice. Immediately, the kid starts crying again, rough, heaving sobs shaking his whole body as Dick clutches him close.

“What’s going on, Jay?” he murmurs. One hand curls into Jason’s hair, tucking his face into Dick’s throat. The other curls across his shoulders, rubbing Dick’s scent against him. Jason shudders in his arms.

“I killed it,” he sobs. He’s crying so hard that the words are barely understandable. “I k-killed it.”

“Killed what?” Dick asks.

“The baby. I - I -”

“Shhh,” Dick soothes. The sound isn’t particularly comforting. There’s a too-frantic edge to it. “Shhh sweetheart. What baby?”

Slade wonders if Dick is being purposefully obtuse or if he really is struggling to understand the situation.

“My baby,” Jason practically wails. “My baby. I killed it.”

Dick makes a wounded noise that tears at Slade’s chest. He rocks back, tugging Jason with him until the pup is basically in his lap, holding him tight to his chest and pressing his face into Jason’s curls.

Pain and anger are leaking into Dick’s scent like blood from a wound. It mixes nauseatingly with distressed omega pup and blood and they smell surprisingly similar like this, their pack scent a thick cord between them. It does strange things to Slade’s instincts.

“I wanted it gone so bad,” Jason sobs, the words muffled against Dick’s chest and distorted by the hiccuping agony in Jason’s voice. “I hated it, but it’s just - it was just a baby. It was…”

“Shit happens, kid,” Slade interrupts, because Dick doesn’t seem like he can speak right now. “You don’t lose a pregnancy because you don’t want it.”

Jason makes a quiet, wretched noise. Dick shoots a sharp look at Slade over the pup’s head, before ducking to press a kiss to Jason’s hair.

“He’s right, Little Wing,” Dick murmurs, “this isn’t your fault.”

Slade can fill in the gaps. It’s someone’s fault. Someone got Dick’s little brother pregnant. Someone hurt him and terrified him. Someone is going to be facing Dick’s anger.

“It’s not your fault,” Dick says again, rocking Jason gently. “It’s not your fault.”

Dick holds him until the kid’s sobs turn into soft sniffling. Even when he goes silent, Dick doesn’t let go. Eventually, Jason pulls away, scrubbing hard at his face. He looks blotchy and upset, but he’s no longer actively crying.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs.

“What for?” Dick asks, softer than Slade has ever heard him.

Jason shrugs. “You were at work.”

“That doesn’t matter. If you need me, I’ll always be here.”

Jason opens his mouth, probably to protest, but cuts himself off with a whimper. His face spasms, pain flickering across his expression and Dick grabs at him immediately, soft hands cupping his cheeks and petting at his curls.

“It hurts,” Jason whimpers.

“I know,” Dick says, sympathetically. “It’s okay. Once we get to the hospital we can get you some -“

“No,” Jason interrupts. “No, not the hospital.”

“Jay -“

“No!” Jason trembles, eyes wide and pleading. “Please he - he can’t know.”

“Jay, pup, dad needs to know, okay. I can’t -“

“Not dad,” Jason whispers.

For a moment, Dick is silent, his face creased with concern. Then, softly, “You mean the - the sire?”

Jason doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes flicker before dropping to the ground says enough. Protective rage floods Dick’s scent. Slade feels his own throat tighten in anger.

“He won’t know,” Dick says, and it’s clear he’s trying to keep his voice soft and only marginally succeeding. “How can he know, sweetheart?”

Jason is trembling so hard he looks like he might shake apart. “He’ll know. He’ll know I told you and he’ll -“ a gasping, painful breath, “he’ll kill me.”

“Who?”

Slade hadn’t meant to speak, but the word comes out nonetheless, low and glacial, an echo of his earlier question. Jason flinches like Slade had slapped him, but Dick’s hands are still cupping his head, holding him still.

“Tell us who, Jay,” Dick adds, in a voice that isn’t any less angry than Slade’s, “and he’ll never touch you again. I promise. I promise we won’t let him hurt you.”

Jason shakes his head as best he can. His lip quivers, like he might start crying again. “I can’t,” he whispers, brokenly.

Dick draws him close again, crushing him back against his chest, pressing his face into his scent gland. The look he gives Slade over the kid’s head is full of dark promise. Slade meets his gaze evenly.

“Okay,” Dick says. “Okay, we can deal with that later. But you need to come to the hospital, Jay. I promise, I’ll keep you safe.”

Maybe it’s Dick’s scent - strong, possessive, protective - that convinces Jason, or maybe it’s just that he knows Dick isn’t going to let him out of this, but he slumps in his brother’s hold.

“Will they -“ he whispers, “will they save the baby?”

Slade can’t tell whether Jason wants the answer to be yes or no. He doubts even Jason really knows.

Dick makes another wounded sound. “It’ll be okay,” he says, instead of answering. “You’ll be okay, little wing.”

Jason rubs his face hard against the scent gland at Dick’s collar bone before finally pulling away. He scrubs at his wet cheeks, before seeming to realise that his hands are still bloody.

“I’m going to - to wash my hands,” he mutters.

When he stands and stumbles back into the bathroom, Dick starts to follow him. Slade puts an arm out and catches his mate, drawing him into a tight hug. Dick resists at first, before abruptly going limp in Slade’s arms.

His mate stinks of stress and pain and anger. There’s a sharp edge to the scent, too, protective, warning non-pack alphas to stay away from the omega pup. It’s bitter in Slade’s nose, but that doesn’t stop him from bending down and nuzzling his mate’s cheek.

“Fuck,” Dick mutters, pressing his own face into Slade’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

Slade draws a comforting rumble from deep within his chest. Dick echoes it, before pulling away from Slade’s grip.

“I need to call dad,” he says, eyeing the bathroom like he’s afraid Jason might not come back out again. “Tell him to meet us at the hospital. Tell him what’s…what’s - fuck -“

“I’ll call him,” Slade interrupts, before Dick can work himself up further, even though calling Bruce Wayne and telling him his teenage son is having a miscarriage is absolutely the last thing he wants to do. “You get Jason to the car. I’ll drive.”

Dick offers him a strained smile, before slipping into the bathroom after Jason.

Slade takes a deep, calming breath, before pulling out his phone and dialling Bruce’s number.