Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   He should have known that this would be a bad idea.

   Listen… In hindsight, of course it was stupid to approach a fancy white Bugatti with gold rims just sitting there in the shoddy parking lot of the city’s biggest orphanage, let alone boost its tires. In the moment, though…

   In the moment, Jason hadn’t been thinking. Or, rather, he’d been thinking of all the wrong things. How he’d learned to access the tire’s lug nuts by watching the professionals do it. How he’d read up on car parts in the public library, huddled in the corners behind stacks of books for warmth, until the custodian had kicked him out. And, most notably, how even one of a Bugatti’s tires sold new for up to five-thousand. Custom.

   These tires were definitely bespoke; the metal covers for the lug nuts had the Drake business crest etched into them. Jason had approached on the balls of his feet, licking his chapped lips as he glanced around the icy, dusky, gray parking lot with cracks leading all the way to the rusty basketball court. His frozen hands flew as he rushed through the motions of removing the first tire.

   It took two tries to slip the tool into the right spot; his left hand was too cold. He blew on it as he initiated liberal application of his slight body weight, shifting around to find the right angle. These tires were notoriously difficult to boost, but not for nothing had he practiced, and there were a lot of nuanced tricks to employ once you got the hang of the basics in the craft. This was the exact moment he’d been waiting for. He knew a guy in the Bowery willing to pay top dollar for this shit; he’d just have to keep or file down the caps since no one in their right mind would buy shit stolen from a Drake…

   The Drake woman had gone into the orphanage only fifteen minutes ago. Jason had heard about her supposed surprise visit through the grapevine. He didn’t know what she was looking for… Maybe some publicity; rich folks liked to adopt poor little pups for the attention it got them… but it didn’t matter; even if she didn’t pick, the visiting process took forty-five minutes minimum. Jason remembered it very well.

   There--- Off came the first tire. Elation filled his empty stomach like a warm balloon. If he hurried, he’d be able to get three more before she---

   A muffled shriek sliced through his tense nerves like wire cutters. He popped his head up over the top of the trunk, narrowing his eyes. Ugh… Billy an’ his crappy pack of phony alphas. It was always the unpresented pups with authority issues who acted the loudest, walking around with their chests puffed out like their designation had already been decided. Jason made sure his scent was still hidden under dried mud and wet snow and neglect before steeling himself, grabbing his tire iron, and sprinting in.

   Getting away with three prizes instead of one wouldn’t be worth it if he also had to listen to a helpless pup being traumatized while he worked. What a mess. “Hey!!!”

   Big Billy glanced up, sneering. “Well well well, if it ain’t Willie’s kid!!! Your dad owes my pa a lotta money, creep. Snuck away to avoid repercussions last month?”

   “Nah.” Jason shifted his weight lightly from foot to foot, glancing around to assess his chances. These kids were all big, clumsy, and stupid. They were shivering to boot. He wasn’t like the weak ones who stayed in under the thumb of the system just to avoid the cold. This was HIS turf. The pup they’d been bullying, a scrawny thing with huge eyes that took up half his face, peered at Jason with a healthy dose of fright. It looked like they’d been trying to get him to stick his tongue to the metal light pole, shoving snow in his face when he resisted; his arm was twisted behind his back an’ his nose was bleeding.

   Jason saw red, but he managed to finish his sentence. “I just got bored’a this place; I guess not everyone’s scared’a you. Speakin’ a’ which, where is your pa? He come back from the army yet? Y’think he just decided to bail? Maybe he’s a wanted criminal now.”

   Billy took a threatening step forward. Jason lunged with feral delight, taking advantage of the opening--- and of his easy footing on the frozen ground--- to smack his iron into Billy’s gut. When the fake alpha bent over, wheezing, Jason smashed his nose into one knee, then shoved the iron into his ear, sending him sprawling.

   Bullies, especially the big ones, were so easy to enrage. Jason danced away from the charging kids, cackling. They were already too slow. “Come an’ get me, ya big boobs!!!”

   Faintly, he heard the poor pup cheering as he started to run. His ego began to soar. He secured the tire iron in his right hand, focusing on his footwork, on stepping in just the right spots to avoid slippage as he ramped up the speed---

   Someone caught at his hood. Jason’s heels skidded, pulling up short as he almost ran headlong into a white pencil skirt. He’d barely found his footing before his beanie was pulled back, forcing his gaze up and up and up---

   Jason felt his stomach bottom out as he stared into the stern, perfectly makeuped face of one Mrs. Janet Drake.

   “I am so sorry,” he heard the motherly administrator saying faintly. “The boys like to roughhouse behind the orphanage, especially at night---”

   “They were gonna hurt him,” Jason found himself spitting, slurred through frozen lips, and why… Why was he defending himself? He didn’t even like these people, he didn’t wanna be here with its warm nests and cuddly piles of unpresented pups and boring, coddling caretakers… “They were gonna hurt that kid.”

   Janet Drake’s slate gray eyes followed his pointing finger across the parking lot to the lamp post. They sparked with a dangerous light as she took his meaning. “You saved him.”

   “He didn’t do anything,” the kid squeaked, trotting over with his thin hands shoved in his pockets. “Th-Th-They really were being d-d-dumb shits, honest---”

   “Sammy,” the administrator scolded, ushering the boy behind her toward the open door spilling yellow warmth. “Watch your tongue. Let’s get that nose sorted.”

   “Well they were---”

   “Thanks, kid,” Jason called faintly. He didn’t think it would have helped much, having someone stand up for him, but it was nice to be thanked for his efforts. His case would only worsen when they found the missing tire. His weapon of choice made it obvious who’d just been caught red-handed. Was jail on the table for a twelve-year-old?

   Janet Drake stared down at him, still holding his beanie in a vice grip. Jason could have broken away, could have left the hat in her perfectly manicured claws, but something in her steely gaze had frozen him in place. Maybe it was the way she looked into his eyes; maybe it was the way she seemed to see him instead of drifting carelessly over. Maybe it was just her commanding alpha scent, calm, coolly collected, or maybe… maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t hurt him yet.

   She could have easily pulled his hair with the force she was using to keep his chin tipped back… but she hadn’t.

   “Yes,” she finally said, decided. She released his beanie to tap one finger on the side of his chin. “this one.”

   Jason blinked hard. “What?”

   “What?” the administrator echoed, sounding faint. “You don’t want HIM…”

   Jason’s ears began to ring. They were all thinking it, but hearing it out loud was worse. That no one in their right mind would say what Janet Drake had just said. That Jason was no good. That he was broken for some reason. Disgraced. Vulgar. Trouble. Angry. Rude.

   He was only some of those things some of the time, but it got harder every day to convince himself of who else he was or who he might have been before.

   “No,” Mrs. Drake’s voice rang, cutting through the buzz with its quiet steel. “I’ll take this one. You may send the paperwork to my office.”

   “But… But Ms. Drake, please understand…”

   “He is in your records, yes?”

   “Yes, but he ran away not---”

   “Well, then,” the alpha businesswomen said lightly, turning her back on Jason to stare the administrator down. “There doesn’t seem to be a problem, does there?” 

   The woman backed off with an audible gulp. She looked as shocked as Jason felt. “No… no ma’am, of course not.”

   “Good. Paperwork, my office, within the hour.” Mrs. Drake took Jason’s shoulder in a tight grip, steering him firmly, but not forcefully, toward her car. “I expect to be sending a generous donation this quarter.”

   Jason’s senses began returning with fearful clarity as they neared the vehicle. “M… Mrs. Drake, I can… I can explain. I was just…”

   She stopped short when she rounded the driver’s side, spotting the loose tire. It was hard to see her facial expression now that it was truly becoming dark, but Jason could spot her eyebrow inching toward her perfect hair.

   “I was hungry,” Jason defended with hot tears in his eyes, staring stubbornly at the ground between his feet. If only he’d known the nature of the opportunity before him, the golden goose egg he was already scrambling… “I am so, so sorry.”

   “Resourceful,” Mrs. Drake noted.

   Jason forgot to keep his face hidden, glancing up with the force of his surprise. Mrs. Drake was staring at the tire with a funny little smile on her face. Was… Was this just… a rich people thing? “Huh?”

   “Ma’am.”

   “Ma’am?”

   She bent at the waist, observing the pulled cap. “Barely a scratch. Yes, I think you’ll do perfectly.”

   Jason realized his mouth was hanging open. He hurriedly clicked it shut. This was too much to keep up with. “Do?”

   “Yes.” She straightened up, turning to look him directly in the eyes. Something had shifted now that they were alone together, something solemn, and she offered an empty hand. “I am not trying to force you into a family you do not want. If you are undecided, I am happy to return you to the orphanage before the paperwork is finalized. If you decide to… give us a go… and find that your new life does not live up to your satisfaction, I will, of course, help you to find a new home. You are skilled, but no pup should be wandering the streets.”

   Jason glanced at her open hand, distrusting, and back up at her face. Gruff bluntness began to slide over vulnerable hurt, covering his sensitive emotions like a balm. “If you’re gonna try me out an’ decide I’m not manners enough or nice enough or posh enough to keep around, you’d better not waste your time. Sammy’s the one you want, one of the little pups, not me.”

   Mrs. Drake’s scent snapped on the air. It wasn’t anger, not exactly, but it still made Jason quail back. “I did not come here to shop. I am here for a pup. MY pup.”

   A shiver made its way from the top of Jason’s spine all the way down to his tailbone. The way she said it felt like his name. “I’m no one’s pup.”

   She peered steadily at him, her hand still extended. “Do you want to be?”

   Jason stared at her palm, so smooth, so unblemished by any physical hardship, and suddenly the prospect of putting his oil-smeared fingers into hers was less terrifying than continuing to protest with the “I’m ugly” and “I won’t fit in” and “I’ll just be wasting your time”. You don’t really want me, he thought, but he couldn’t bear to say it out loud, to ruin this one precious chance. He reached back, gently resting his hand in hers, and almost sobbed when she wrapped her fingers around his shivering wrist, lightly rubbing her scent into his dirty skin.

   A promise. Honor. No going back.

   “Right,” she said, and her voice was much softer now. “Put it back on so that we can get going.”

   Jason’s breath hitched as he pulled back, smearing away the shameful blur in his eyes. “Wh… What?” 

   Mrs. Drake pointed one red nail, faint amusement tainting her controlled scent. “My car’s tire, pup.”

   “Oh… OH.” Jason jumped into action at once, feeling the blush all the way up to his frostbitten ears. “Yeah… yes… of course.”

   She watched him steadily as he worked, and his hands fumbled. He cursed himself fluently in the privacy of his own head… Why was he looking like an amateur now? Of all the fuckin’ times…

   “Efficient,” was all she said when he finished, gesturing to the passenger side. “I’ll have someone look at it next week, but I doubt it needs more than tightening.”

   Jason opened the door to slide ever so carefully into the passenger seat, slightly mortified. The interior was spotless. No freaking way he wasn’t soiling everything he touched.

   “Since you won’t be pawning it off,” Mrs. Drake continued briskly, starting up the car with a VROOOOOOOOM as she slid into the driver’s seat. “you’ll still be hungry. What would you like to eat?”

   Jason clasped his hands in his lap, trying not to touch anything other than the seatbelt as he felt the chair begin to heat. Before he could register the question presented to him, Mrs. Drake hit a few buttons, blasting his face with warmth. He melted into the back of the seat, unable this time to stop the childish whimper as his skin began to tingle.

   “I know,” she hummed softly, distant. The car started up beneath them, gliding smoothly from the parking lot. “Take your time.”

   Jason breathed deeply of hot air, letting it warm his chilly lungs, and coughed into his elbow when his breath hitched. It was a wet cough, something deep that never really went away these days. Usually he could keep it quiet, and he glanced worriedly at the intimidating alpha by his side. Other than her tight lips, nothing seemed amiss. Maybe she wasn’t already thinking of how defective he was going to be.

   One could hope. Jason had been breaking down under the pressures of the street. He liked to tell himself otherwise, but it was only a matter of time. Or… it had been.

   “Batburger?” he finally answered, hesitantly hopeful. He’d only tasted it twice. Maybe she would think it an insult to take him somewhere with single-digit prices, but then again, she didn’t have to be seen in public with him this way. It was a win all around.

   Mrs. Drake changed direction immediately, breezing through yellow lights like she had somewhere to be. It wasn’t long before she pulled up at the burger place. She only asked him for his allergies, of which there were none, before ordering one of everything. Jason slunk low in his seat as the bemused fast food worker handed bag after bag into the bright white vehicle.

   “Timothy will help you eat the rest,” she assured him as she pulled up to park.

   Jason paused between inhaling the food, trying not to choke. “Timothy?”

   “Yes; my son. Don’t worry about manners right now. I ask only that you chew with your mouth closed.” Mrs. Drake picked at a container of jokerized fries, staring with a furrowed brow at the increasing snow flurry just outside. Jason waited for a moment, then, figuring that that had been permission, continued his one man mission to annihilate the food. He could barely taste it other than good and hot and solid, but he did chew with his mouth closed as he watched her with one eye. She seemed to have a lot on her mind. Probably she had more to tell him about her expectations for tonight. No way she didn’t get something outta this bargain.

   When his eating pace had slowed to the gentle nursing of a bright orange drink, she finally set down the fries. There was something fragile in the way she moved her hands. “I must be frank with you, Mr… Why, I am afraid I do not yet know your name.”

   Jason’s ears heated. Damn, he should have introduced himself. Of course he knew her name. “Jason, ma’am; Jason Todd.”

   “Hm.” She observed him for a moment longer, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was testing the name Jason Drake in her own head. He shivered just thinking about it. “Well, Jason, I must be up front. I have sought a pup tonight for a few reasons, of which my own inclination is, of course, primary. You might know that it is very difficult for alpha women to conceive, especially with beta husbands.”

   Jason hoped his beanie sufficiently covered his ears. He HAD heard that, yes. Mostly from the tabloids that liked to bring it up every time this couple was seen in public with their one scrawny kid. “Yes, yes ma’am.”

   Mrs. Drake glanced away, appearing troubled, but her businesslike scent stayed level. “I have wanted another child for years now. My husband and I always intended to adopt. We have simply… dropped the ball. Though the plans are of course set out, your coming tonight, specifically, will be something of a surprise. Do keep that between us.”

   Jason’s eyes felt as wide as plates. He nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. He was already being trusted with Rich People Drama. He was either incredibly lucky or incredibly screwed.

   “I have always wanted another son,” she repeated, casting him a look that was a few degrees less frigid. “I mean that.”

   Jason swallowed hard. “What--- What’s another reason?” 

   Mrs. Drake heaved an unexpected sigh. “Timothy… my son… has recently presented alpha. He is too young for a presentation, and his body is not strong enough for what the hormonal change is trying to do for him. Without a more complete pack to care for, his instincts have suffered, and, I am afraid, his health.” She suddenly threw Jason a much sharper glare. “This is of the utmost privacy. The media need not know that the Drake heir is struggling with his own designation; they would have a field day with that.”

   “No, yeah, no yeah,” Jason said hurriedly, sitting straighter despite the heavy sleepiness of the food in his gut. “Some kids present really late or really early; I get it. I know a couple young alphas from the neighborhood. It’s the roughest designation for a kid to grow into, ‘specially with no parents or siblings. Omegas at least can fake it, make do with whatever not-pack’ll agree to keep ‘em around. Alpha kids go feral if they don’t got someone to claim.”

   Mrs. Drake’s red lips twitched as she listened, her entire attention on his face. “Indeed. Then you can see my dilemma. A young, suffocating alpha pup, but nothing to provide him with. He has bonds with his parents, of course, but we are both very busy, and though we have stayed with him as long as we are able, we cannot provide the vulnerable neediness that younger packmates or playmates might be able to. This I had hoped to rectify tonight.”

   Jason suddenly wondered if she could smell his designation under all the filth. He hoped not. The possibility made him uncomfortable. What if she’d chosen him just because he was the best matching designation for a sick alpha pup? Omegas were supposed to be hella healthy for balancing pack shit.

   Mrs. Drake continued as if she hadn’t noticed his distress. “The last item on this list is, I fear, one of more pressing importance. Being a parent means planning for your child’s future, and I am not… entirely confident in Timothy’s. He is a very bright child, clever, witty, but he is weak.” Her voice softened as she turned those all-seeing eyes onto Jason’s soul. “Do not make mention of this. He is most anxious to please. It might not be apparent that my evaluation of his shortcomings comes from a place of love.”

   Jason nodded solemnly. He kinda understood. He’d never tell someone like Sammy that he was weak even if it was true. He would just work harder to provide, to keep that weak kid safe. No saying of inside thoughts required. “You kinda want a bodyguard, huh?” 

   Mrs. Drake’s lips finally turned up. It was a startling expression to see on her severe face, but not unwelcome. She looked younger. “Not nearly as much as all that. Being an alpha, he should grow quickly in physical strength, endurance, and situational awareness. He hasn’t yet, but I am hopeful that he will. That being said, none of those enhanced traits will help him if he has forever lived in the lap of luxury. He will not know a good face from a bad one. He will not be able to assess a delicate situation or know which scents to avoid. Do you understand?”

   Jason licked his cracked lips. “You want someone from the streets to teach him about the rough side’a life.”

   Mrs. Drake went to rake her fingers through her hair, then appeared to think better of it. “He needs an example that we… cannot give him.”

   Jason licked his lips again. He knew how hard it was for an alpha, an adult alpha, to admit that they needed help with something. He had firsthand experience with alphas that thought they could provide everything to everyone twenty-four seven. It always ended… badly. There was just one problem. “I can’t teach him like that. I’m not an alpha.”

   Mrs. Drake stared at him with undivided attention. “I don’t see what that has to do with it.”

   Jason stumbled over his next few words, floored. Surely she’d seen the fight, had picked him because of his apparent strength. If her son needed a good example of how to live rough… sure, but he couldn’t… “I can’t protect anybody.”

   “First of all,” her voice hardened. “any designation can protect, pup. Each has their unique strengths, but brute force does not equate most value. I saw the way you handled those boys. It is obvious how deeply you care.”

   Jason swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. The food in his stomach was sitting kinda weirdly now. “I can’t give Timothy a good example, though. I’m b-breaking down.”

   Mrs. Drake kept up that unwavering stare. He was mortified to find his vision blurring, but before he could look away, she was reaching out to catch one of his tears. Her scent sharpened as his distressed pheromones sank into her skin. “Jason… May I hug you?”

   It was a strange request, and even stranger that she’d asked first, but Jason was already leaning across the console. Mrs. Drake plucked him from his seat with no effort at all, settling him at an angle across her lap and tucking him under her chin and squeezing him close.

   And Jason…

   Jason CRIED.

   “I am sorry, pup,” she murmured over his hair. “I know I have done nothing to earn your trust. Of course you are scared, but you are not breaking.”

   “How do you know that?” he wavered, trying not to get snot on her perfect suit. She was so, so warm. He didn’t know what it was that made him want to curl up under her arm. She hadn’t said anything to deserve this reaction from him. Maybe it was just the food.

   “You are sick,” she stressed softly, carding her slim fingers once or twice through his limp, dirty hair. “Omegas are not meant to be alone, and especially not in such a dangerous environment. There is a reason the state has more laws protecting omega designations against homelessness. It is not fair, but it is understandable. You are not built to suffer the cold and the danger and the fear alone. Lack of physical safety, of cleanliness are great, terrible things to an omega pup. To any pup. You MUST know this.”

   “I know.” Jason sniffled hard, squeezing his eyes shut as she held him. “It’s just s-stupid. Embarrassing.”

   “Nonsense.” Mrs. Drake squeezed him a little tighter. “You have strengths you’ve not yet begun to discover. I would be honored to provide an environment where those strengths can flourish. You will teach my son in your own way… if you’ll have me.”

   Jason finally pulled back a little, peering up into her face, and she let him. Her gaze stayed on his unerringly. It would have been unnerving if Jason’s instincts hadn’t already decided. He was safe. “Just to try?”

   The corners of those severe eyes crinkled in a smile. “Just to try.”

Chapter Text

   The Drake Estate was huge. The YARDS were huge… the DRIVE was huge… and the HOUSE was huge. Jason almost pressed his nose up against the glass, stunned. He’d never been this far outside of the city. Everything was so… so different. Even the snow, clean and beautiful and untouched by the rushing of cars or stomping of feet, piled in gentle, sparkling drifts over the grounds. Icicles hung from the roof’s gables, and when they parked at the front, one fell into the soft snowy depths below.

   “Come.” Mrs. Drake swept from the car, tucking her faux fur more tightly around her neck. “Our chauffeur will take care of the Bugatti.”

   Jason barely had time to goggle at the whole entire chandelier porch light before the huge wooden door was swinging open. A small boy stood in the doorway, staring. His eyes were a lighter, brighter blue than his mother’s. He looked surprised.

   “Timothy,” Mrs. Drake greeted, a sappy affection flooding her voice. Jason stared in nervous bewilderment as she swept past, scenting her son with a startling gentle-maternal-fond on either side of his neck.

   “Mother?” the supposed Timothy replied, returning the scent to her wrists without paying much attention. His eyes stayed unnervingly on Jason’s.

   “Yes, yes, of course.” Mrs. Drake straightened with a stern smile. “This, Timothy, is Jason Todd. If he likes it here, he is to be your new brother. Please provide him with the utmost care.”

   That was putting a bit of a dull point on things, Jason thought, somewhat disgruntled. She hadn’t explained why or where or who, and she certainly hadn’t given any explanation for her chosen pup looking as if he’d been plucked right off the curb. Timothy, however, looked radiant. “Yes… Yes, Mother, of course.”

   Mrs. Drake stepped away into the house, leaving them alone on the chilly front porch. Jason shivered for a moment, trying awkwardly to think of the best way to greet a pup who was just staring at him. In the end, he decided on a handshake. That was normal… right? “Hi.”

   Timothy glanced rapidly between Jason’s hand, his eyes, and his hand again. The words burst out of him in a rush. “May I hug you? May I hug you please?”

   Startled, Jason barely had time to nod before he was bowled over by one very skinny armful of pup. The kid was practically POURING hysterical-desperate-excited-anxious-pleading, not just from his previously controlled scent, but from every pore in his body. The combo made Jason’s arms tighten on principle, squeezing the small fry to his chest. He could already feel his heartbeat, fast against Timothy’s cheek.

   No way was he getting out of this with his heart intact.

   “I always wanted a brother,” Timothy whispered shakily.

   Jason dropped his nose into the pup’s perfect hair, taking a deeeeeep sniff of it. Rich people products aside, it smelled young. Untainted by the harsh evils of the world beyond the ornate metal gate. Jason had forgotten what that smelled like, and his voice was craggy with emotion when he managed to speak. “Yeah, well, here I am.”

   Timothy pulled away like he’d been shocked, swiping hurriedly at his face. “I am being TERRIBLY rude… You might not even want to stay. Oh, you’re SHIVERING--- Please forgive me; come, come in. Do you have any clothes? Are you hungry? What can I get you first?”

   Jason stumbled into the mansion, half frozen, and gawked at the bigger, fancier chandelier above them. “Fuck. I mean, sorry, uh…”

   Timothy giggled nervously, though it wasn’t clear whether his anxiety was because of Jason or Jason’s language. His scent was once more controlled, but he also seemed overly anxious to please, just as Mrs. Drake had said. He was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to move the moment Jason expressed his heart’s desire.

   Disturbed, Jason reached out, pressing his hand to the top of the kid’s head like he could get the pup to stop moving. “Gimme a sec. How old’re you, anyway? Eight?”

   “Ten,” the kid answered, looking put out all of a sudden, and oh, oh no… Now he was sad. Okay, first note; no sarcasm to the insecure baby alpha pup. “I’m kinda small for my age.”

   “You’re hug-sized,” Jason reassured gruffly, sweeping the kid into his arms again. It felt right. Better than jokes that the runt would be hurt by, anyway. “Just as long as you don’t mind my filth.”

   “You’re not filthy,” the kid defended, clinging to Jason like he would never ever let go. It made a tendril of warmth wind up Jason’s spine from his gut to his neck. When the pup tipped his chin up against Jason’s chest to make eye contact, Jason just about melted on the spot. “I don’t mind.”

   Jason grunted as he pulled away again, shrugging. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin. Normally he could avoid that feeling; being smeared with dirt, especially to hide your designation, was kind of a necessity on the street. Now, though, it was very hard not to scrub until he reached bone. “I really need a shower or somethin’. I don’t have any clothes, I…” His breath caught, grieved alarm shooting down to crush the warmth. “My STUFF…”

   Tim perked up, anxious. “Will it be stolen while you’re gone?”

   “No, no, it’s just…”

   “We can get it tomorrow, I swear.” Tim grabbed Jason’s hand, a cold, determined steel flashing across his innocent blue eyes. Jason blinked exactly once before it was gone. Maybe he had imagined it. “Let’s get you clean tonight; I have pajamas that are too big. Distant aunts an’ uncles, y’know.”

   “Yeah,” Jason agreed faintly, even though he didn’t know at all. He followed the pup’s tugs. Man, this kid was tiny. If Jason hadn’t already smelled a sick sort of alpha scent beneath the eager anxiety, he wouldn’t have believed the pup had already presented. Also, he needed to do something about that. Probably letting Timothy provide was a good first step. “Uh, your mom fed me on the way. There are leftovers.”

   “I’ll warm those up while you get clean,” the pup insisted, pulling Jason through the house faster than Jason’s eyes could keep up with--- Staircase, hallway, another staircase, hallway, door, room. Then--- bathroom.

   Jason blinked until his eyes adjusted to the light, baffled. It was huge. Everything was spotlessly clean, right down to the single toothbrush next to the sink, and the tub was lined with gold.

   “Do you like bubble bath?” Timothy asked anxiously, turning on the hot water before holding up two bottles from the myriad of options on the shelf.

   Jason grinned shyly. He remembered bubbles, sort of, from a birthday gift when he was seven. “Do you have crayons that draw on the tub, too?”

   Tim tipped the bottle Jason had pointed to under the running water, appearing baffled. “No, not yet, but do you want some?”

   “Nevermind.” Jason peered at his reflection over the second sink. He barely recognized himself--- dirty and shivery and topped with far too much hair. He looked away again, anxious. “Can I keep my hoodie?”

   “You can keep anything you want,” Timmy said firmly like Jason’s jeans an’ shoes weren’t covered in holes.

   “Just the hoodie,” Jason answered decidedly, tugging it off to set aside on the toilet seat. “It was a gift from my mom.”

   Tim set up a few more soaps, turned on what looked like a towel warmer (Jason had never seen such a thing), and gathered the stained hoodie against his chest like a treasured thing. “I’ll make sure it gets washed an’ stuff. Should I throw away the rest?”

   “Please.” Jason pretended not to notice the way Tim’s eyes lingered anxiously on his ribs. Yeah, he knew he was getting skinny. “Where do I get the pajamas?”

   “Oh… oh, of course, right.” Tim snapped into action again, blushing up to his ears. “I’ll leave them right out here for you; just close off that part of the bathroom when you get in. There are extra toothbrushes in the cabinet, and towels if you want more of them. Oh!!! What do you want to drink? Nevermind, I’ll set out lots of options. We’re only out of hot chocolate; it’s the best kind in the city. Mom likes the imported stuff, but the mom an’ pop places are actually really good, so she gets mine from those places for me, an’ I drank the rest this morning--- Hey, what size are you? Wait, don’t tell me; we’ll do the shopping tomorrow. I’ll go heat up the blanket an’ get the food.”

   Jason blinked as Tim disappeared. He was half expecting captions to pop out of thin air explaining whatever the kid had just said, but there were none, so he hurriedly shucked the rest of his clothes before getting into the bath.

   No, he wasn’t crying. He had just forgotten what hot water felt like… that was all.

   When Jason finally got out of the bathroom, feeling about ten pounds lighter an’ horribly exposed despite the warm towel, he found large sweats waiting. They just barely fit him. They were red. Upon peeking into the bedroom beyond, he found that a lot of other things were red, too. This must have been Timmy’s personal bathroom.

   The generosity floored Jason a little bit. He couldn’t remember the last time--- before tonight--- that he’d trusted an absolute stranger. With literally anything, let alone his bathroom and his clothes and his soap. Not that he’d had those things to share anyway.

   Some careful exploration lead him back downstairs. Jason could more easily smell himself now, sick and shivery and slightly flat. He didn’t like it at all. On the somewhat brighter side, this made it easier to smell literally anyone else, so he followed the faint trail of anxious-unwell-determined until he reached a fancy dining room. This one only had six chairs instead of twenty. Timmy was running in circles around the table, setting food and juices and every manner of utensil out on display. There had to be at least ten drink options.

   When he saw Jason staring, he froze with a blush. “Are you hungry?”

   “Just a little,” Jason stammered quietly, also blushing. He wasn’t sure what to do with all this attention. He was suddenly fiercely glad that the parents were either keeping to themselves or out of the house. “I, uh, already ate. Is that grape juice?”

   Tim perked up at once from his disappointed slump. “Yes, do you want some? I’ll get you some. What kind of cup would you like?”

   Jason sat down at the head of the table, a little edgy. It didn’t smell like anyone else’s territory, and this was where Tim had gestured for him to sit… Great, more choices. What would make the pup chill out? “Whatever cup is your favorite?”

   Timmy returned a few seconds later from the cabinet holding seventy different varieties of glass crystal, setting down a worn, plastic cup with Robin on one side an’ Batman on the other. Batman’s smile was peeling off. It was full to the absolute brim with grape juice.

   Jason was going to fuckin’ sob.

   “Is it alright?” Tim asked anxiously, twisting his shirt in his hands before hurriedly shoving them behind his back.

   Jason forcefully cleared his throat, taking a sip. The strong tang hit the back of his throat with a satisfying zing. He hadn’t had grape juice in so long. “It’s perfect.”

   Tim made a happy noise as he sat down to Jason’s right, picking at the food. It was rewarmed, so Jason eagerly dove in. He only had room for one burger an’ some fries this time before slumping, feeling full. He watched Timmy finish eating with sleepy eyes, pillowing his head on his folded arms. A huge grandfather clock ticked away in the distant front hall, and a record player hummed gentle oldies from the next room.

   It was so incredibly peaceful. If he hadn’t been too exhausted to take it all in, Jason might have remembered that it didn’t feel like his.

   “Do you want a nest?” Tim whispered softly, and Jason blinked, realizing he must have dozed off. Tim was staring at him with a mix of regular anxiety an’ something else, something Jason wasn’t used to recognizing on a little kid’s face. Fondness?

   He sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. “M’kay. Gotta… clean up.”

   “I don’t think Mom will mind the mess for one night.” Timmy took Jason’s hand, squeezing. It was warm, the little fingers wrapped around his. “C’mon.”

   Jason was too tired to attempt arguing.

   “I can’t make a very good nest,” Tim was quietly rambling, pulling Jason after him back up the stairs. “I’ve watched every tutorial I can find, of course, so I know what’s structurally sound, but every single thing I try still feels wrong, y’know? I have all the blankets an’ pillows you could ever want if you wanna remake it yourself, but if you’d rather just sleep normally, I can take the room down the hall---”

   Jason tugged hard enough to make Tim stop. A sudden upset had risen in his chest, and Tim must have been able to smell it, because his pupils visibly narrowed.

   “Please,” Jason requested tremulously. “Can we nest… together?”

   Timmy’s face was like sunshine. He pulled Jason wordlessly the rest of the way, popped into the bedroom, and dumped a basket full of blankets onto the bed. Then, instead of asking, he picked up a few pillows an’ stood respectfully out of the way, waiting.

   Waiting for instruction.

   Jason wouldn’t have been able to speak even if he could’ve. He didn’t feel nervous about this for some reason. It was right to start folding blankets into comfy shapes, repositioning duvets and holding his hands out for pillows to layer and fluff and tuck. He hadn’t made that many nests… Almost certainly less than his new baby brother had… but something deeeeeeeep beneath his sternum settled, firmly grounded, as the cozy attempt took shape.

   It was alright. Certainly it would keep them warm. That was the best part.

   “Wow,” Tim mumbled appreciatively, pressing his hand to the edge of the nest. It was sturdy; it stayed. “This is insane. How…?”

   Jason shrugged self-consciously, tugging on Timmy’s wrist. The pup climbed in without a word, burrowing against Jason’s side like a hibernating squirrel. Jason wrapped them in blankets before squeezing the little alpha in a hug. He couldn’t breathe.

   “Are you alright?” Timmy whispered as Jason’s tears dropped into his hair. His arms cinched tighter around Jason’s ribs. “Is this good?”

   Jason dropped his face into fluffy warm-protect-safe with a fierce nuzzle. “This is perfect.”

   A high-pitched rumble started up in Timmy’s chest, hesitant at first, then louder as his confidence grew. He kneaded his fingers into Jason’s back, a distinctly toddler behavior, but Jason didn’t mention it. He might have been doing a little kneading himself.

   The faintest of purrs managed to creep out of him before he was overcome by sleep.

Chapter Text

   Jason woke up feeling warm.

   He nuzzled into the fuzzy comfort with a sigh. It was such a gentle dream. Small fingers stroked through his hair. Maybe they were Mom’s.

   The slow rumble brought him back to reality with a jerk. The Someone’s hand stilled. “J’son?”

   Jason squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to relax. He remembered now. The fancy-ass car tires. The brawl in the orphanage parking lot. Janet Drake.

   A brand new, sick, anxious baby alpha to maybe call his brother.

   “Hi,” he mumbled, ignoring the fear now in favor of putting the kiddo at ease. He nestled further into the nest, the nest he’d made with materials Timmy had supplied, and gently nosed the tiny alpha’s collarbone.

   Timmy gasped like he had been doused in freezing water, but his arms tightened. Jason felt a triumphant smirk as the sick undertone of the kiddo’s scent started to shift, picking up a healthier, fresher note. A hint of young dominance peeked through, shy and gentle and oh so determined as Tim nuzzled into Jason’s hair.

   Jason allowed this. It was good for the kid. What the hell… It was probably good for Jason, too.

   He didn’t realize he’d drifted off until he felt the soft brush of fingers against his forehead. He pulled himself hazily back to awareness, yawning, and matched Tim’s hesitant scenting effort by aggressively scrubbing his wrist into the mini alpha’s cheek. Timmy’s muffled yelp made him grin.

   He was gonna have so much fun with this dork.

   “No,” Tim complained grumpily, but his scent had taken a turn for the flustered. (God… he was so young. Just a baby. Barely a squirt.)

   “No?” Jason raised his head from the nurturing refuge of a nest that smelled like safe pups to make a face. “You’ve never been scented before?”

   Tim blushed again. It was adorable. Half of his head was made up of tangled hair, and it got into his eyes. He’d slept hard. “Not like that.”

   “Not like what?” Jason scrubbed harder, attacking that frightful bedhead next. “Not like this? Oh, or like this?”

   Tim yelped again, trying to fight back at first, then dissolving into giggles when Jason inevitably found some more ticklish spots. The pup clearly didn’t get enough touch--- He was sensitive. His bony knees an’ elbows made his wriggling lethal, though, so Jason backed off, planting his chin firmly on top of Timmy’s head with a solid, real, flowing purr.

   He hadn’t purred like this since Mom.

   Tim melted instantly, clinging to Jason like the pup he really was instead of the alpha he wasn’t quite. He nuzzled into Jason’s shoulder, seeking after that weak omega scent like it was his current life’s mission. Then he paused, stiffening.

   Jason’s hug tightened. “What is it?”

   Tim kept his face hidden, so it was kinda hard to hear his voice. Jason could feel it humming against his skin. “I… I am being childish.”

   “So?” Jason frowned fiercely. “You’re a child.”

   “I’m your host.”

   “An’ my alpha, maybe. All’a that doesn’t mean I don’t get to smother you.” Jason pulled back enough to shoot the little gremlin a reassuring grin. “I’m an omega. You’re just gonna hafta get used to it.”

   Tim sat up, preening shyly under that ridiculous bedhead. “I’ve never bonded with an omega before.”

   “Well, there’s first time for everything.” Jason tried to sound flippant as he ruffled Tim’s hair. Like he hadn’t just had the best sleep of his entire life. Like he didn’t feel so safe that his bones were melting into the mattress. Like he couldn’t feel the fringes of a long overdue heat.

   Jason had never needed an alpha. It didn’t make sense that this tiny little snot had triggered all of this. Jason was just sick or something, that was all. Tim needed him wayyyyyyy more than Jason needed Tim. It wasn’t like the kid could protect him…

   right?

   Jason came back to the present with a snort, realizing that Tim was leaning into his hand. He switched to grooming, an automatic behavior from his time between “homes” that had allowed him to offer grumpy affection to the littler pups without ruining his rep. Tim slow-blinked, rumbling steadily for a few minutes. He blushed hard when he finally realized what he was doing.

   Damn. This kid was down bad.

   “Hey, we’re okay,” Jason said quietly, trying to reassure them both. “You’re okay.”

   Tim swallowed nervously. “Yeah?”

   “Yeah. This is good.” Jason glanced around the cozy little nest, allowing himself to bask. It felt wrong to enjoy the good things. Like they would be taken away as soon as he acknowledged their worth. Timmy didn’t deserve that from him, though. He was such an anxious little kid. He needed to know he was doing a good job. “This is great. I haven’t slept that well in… gosh. Ever, probably, I dunno.”

   Tim perked up as the insecure praise hit its mark. “Do you wanna get your stuff today?”

   “Oh.” Jason cast about for an excuse, suddenly uneasy again. Janet Drake swooping in like an angelic vision from the heavens was one thing. Bringing an innocent pup into Crime Alley with him… in broad daylight… that was another. That angelic vision would most likely become the Angel of Death. “Yeah, if you have some cash or something, I can just take the bus. I don’t wanna bother your parents; I’ll be quick.”

   “What? No, no way!!!” Tim sat ramrod straight, suddenly indignant. “I’m coming with you!!!”

   Jason felt a knot of anxious annoyance in his stomach. He was older than this kid. AND unbonded. He didn’t have to do anything. “I don’t think your mother would approve.”

   “She doesn’t have to know!!!”

   That stopped him. Jason paused with his eyebrows raised, giving the indignant pup a fresh reassessment. He was tense with determination, and that spark, that fierce steel that seemed so out of place in his innocent eyes had made a comeback. “Really? ‘Cuz no offense, kid, but you don’t strike me as the rulebreaker kind.”

   A wicked grin stole over Timmy’s face. “Then it’s working.”

   Jason couldn’t help a cackle at that. He muffled the sound into a pillow, a pillow that smelled like sleepy pups, and he could feel his heartbeat calming. Dumb stupid softie omega instincts… “Fine.”

   Tim hopped out of the nest, unnervingly excited. “We’ll need disguises!!!”

   “These aren’t very good disguises.”

   Jason checked the tag on Tim’s worn t-shirt collar, making sure it didn’t say “Gucci” or some shit before tucking it beneath the too-large jacket. “These are normal people clothes, Timmy. I just can’t believe you had Goodwill-worthy merch in the back of your closet.”

   Tim tugged unhappily at his shirt collar, itching at the tag, and pouted. It was probably supposed to be closer to a scowl. Cute. “It’s broad daylight. Shouldn’t we be hiding our faces or something?”

   “Now that would be suspicious.” Jason ruffled the kiddo’s hair up so it didn’t look so nice, sniffing, and stalked out into the street as soon as the light turned red. “Rule number one about survivin’ in Gotham’s wilds, kid. Always hide in plain sight.”

   “I thought rule number one was not to take food from a friendly stranger.”

   “That’s more like… rule number four. Better the stranger doesn’t notice you at all.”

   “What about not touching the handholds on the bus?”

   “That’s tied for number one, okay?” Jason gave the alpha an anxious once-over. “Especially for tiny squirts like you. I’ll bet a single bug could lay you out like wet laundry.”

   Timmy’s nose scrunched up as he clearly attempted to make sense of the insult. He trotted to keep up, shoving his hands into his huge pockets. “Well YOU--- YOU’RE one to talk. You smell really sick already.”

   Jason discreetly sniffed the wrists that he had already covered in mud, uneasy. It wasn’t just that he was clean--- Something else was wrong now, something that was making his scent wayyyyy stronger than usual. It probably wasn’t the incoming heat. He hadn’t had a heat in so long; it was bound to take a while to get here. Maybe he had eaten too much food last night. His stomach wouldn’t stop gurgling. “We’ll deal with that later.”

   “Are we close?”

   “Yeah, my shelter’s riiiiiiiight about…” Jason froze at the mouth of the alley, hissing. “Shit.”

   Timmy tried to pop his head up over Jason’s shoulder for a good look, but Jason scooped him behind his back, stepping away. He had forgotten about the haul of barely expired peaches he’d found next to the deli’s dumpster last week. He had hidden it well enough, but---

   “What is it?” Timmy whispered shrilly, wide blue eyes a sharp contrast to his red button nose.

   “Rule number seven about street life, kid.” Jason breathed out very slowly. “Never keep your valuables in the same place for three nights in a row.”

   Timmy’s face scrunched, surprisingly angry. “Are they taking your stuff?”

   “Just the food.” Jason peeked around the corner again, scowling. “These are the bully types; the kind that don’t need it, but steal it anyway so they can lord over the others.”

   “What’s that mean?”

   “It means we’re gonna wait until they take what they want an’ leave. The stuff I need isn’t of value to them; they’ll probably---”

   “Oy.” A shadow blocked out the bright sun. “What’ve’we got ‘ere?”

   Jason’s instincts kicked into high gear. He booked it, shoving Timmy ahead of him, and entered the alley. He could feel the meaty hand swiping past his neck. “Run, run, slide slide slide!!!”

   To his credit, Timmy didn’t even hesitate. The tiny alpha barreled as fast as he could directly at the two men tearing apart Jason’s weathertight shack, sliding clumsily under their legs before they could do anything. He lacked a lot in agility, but he made up for it in speed. He was too small to grab; they missed him by a mile as he sprinted for the fence at the end of the alley.

   Jason used the small window of distraction to dive into his shack, grab the hidden bundle wrapped in old newspapers, and shove himself out of a crack in the crate. Jagged wood tore at his scalp, leg, and hip, but he did not slow down on his mad dash toward the fence.

   He had no time to climb--- and the tear in the chain links that Timmy had squeezed through was too small for Jason. The pup hung onto the fence from the other side, staring. Horror dawned as he came to the same set of realizations.

   “Go!!!” Jason hucked the newspaper bundle over the fence, turning left before he could see Timmy catch it. “Go, go, Finger an’ Broom!!!”

   The guys were too big to handle the fence; it sounded like they were all coming after him. Perfect. Jason put on a burst of speed, sliding between narrow dumpsters, slapping his hand to cold brick, and spinning around corners with all the traction that new shoe tread could offer him. (Damn these sneakers were grippy.) If he could just lead them far away---

   Jason’s left foot slipped on a patch of ice in the shade. His stomach swooped, tongue flying with sickening weightlessness in his mouth before his heel hit solid ground again. He stumbled in a very clumsy circle, barely glimpsing his pursuers before barreling in a new direction across the street. Sweat poured down his face. What the hell was THAT?

   The aforementioned pursuers finally started to give up the chase--- It wasn’t worth it, especially since Jason wasn’t giving them an incentive, like the stolen wallet they hadn’t realized was gone--- but it still felt like an agonizing heart-pounding chest-aching eternity before he zig-zagged back to Finger an’ Broom.

   The kid was not there.

   Panic threatening to close up his throat, Jason shot down the nearest alleyway, panting. Then the next… and the next. No… no… and no. “Tim? Tim?!”

   “Here,” a tiny voice called, and Jason doubled back, tasting copper, to crouch down at the teeny tiny mouth of a gap between two buildings.

   There was Tim huddled beneath a sheaf of cardboard. He clutched Jason’s bundle to his chest, wild-eyed.

   “Oh… oh thank fuck.” Jason sagged to his knees, groaning, and pressed a hand over his racing heartbeat. “You almost did me in, kid.”

   “Sorry,” Tim whispered tightly, huge frightened eyes welling with tears. “Sorry.”

   “No… hey.” Jason managed to wedge half of his chest in there, hugging the alpha pup under one arm. He forced a thin blanket of reassurance to slide over the hazy panic. “You did so GOOD, kid. Damn, I didn’t know you could run that fast. What a helluva way to end th’ morning.”

   Tim laughed shakily, scrubbing his nose into his sleeve, and tried to hug Jason back. “I didn’t let them get your stuff.”

   “You sure didn’t.” Jason felt a hot poker in his gut as he looked down at the newspaper bundle held in dirty, shaking hands. Tim’s fingers were scratched up. He was bleeding. “Kid--- This really wasn’t worth it. I shouldn’t have brought you along.”

   “Wai… What?” Timmy looked up, dismay zinging into his weak scent. “I thought you said I d-did good---”

   “You DID, you DID do good.” Jason squeezed him a little tighter, ignoring the strange looks from a couple of passerby who probably wondered why a dirty pup was squeezed halfway into an alley that was too small for him. “You did SO good, Tim. I’m the one who fucked up, okay? I shouldn’t have put us in danger like that.”

   “You didn’ know they’d be there. Wasn’ your fault.” Timmy picked gently at a corner of the newspaper. Then, as if trying to convince himself, “I was fast.”

   “SO fast,” Jason mumbled again, brief pride swelling in his voice. He nuzzled into Timmy’s hair. “We’re gonna get you home, alright? We’re---”

   “Jason?” Tim called from very far away, and it echoed in the sick, lurching, tugging swirl. “Jason!!!”

   Jason lunged to his feet, barely managing to get to the nearest dumpster before throwing up. It just kept coming… and coming… and coming. His throat burned. His lungs were so frantic to get a breath that by the time he could breathe, he couldn’t breathe; he---

   He was going to die. He was going to choke on his own vomit. He was going to waste all that food---

   “Breathe,” someone commanded distantly, and the word reached past his emotions straight to his instincts, prying his tight ribs apart with cold hands. Jason sucked in, hitched on his own spit, and started to cry.

   “Jason,” a small voice wavered, and someone drew him close, hugging him tightly against a hyperventilating chest. “Jason, it’s okay, I got you. I’ll keep you safe.”

   “Wasted…” Jason spat between gasps for air, between heaving sobs, because that was all his feverish brain could latch onto. “all’at… food…”

   “No, no, it wasn’t wasted. It gave you strength to run, right? It was just too much. Starving people can’t eat a lot, right? I gave you too much. I’m so sorry, Jason---”

   The words rang for a second. Jason buried his face against the cold cloth of Timmy’s jacket, breathing through his mouth until his stomach decided to stop flip-flopping long enough that he could remember which way was up.

   “It wasn’t wasted,” Timmy crooned shakily, carding tiny fingers through Jason’s sweaty hair. “There’s a lot more at home, okay? Is that it? Is that what you’re worried about? You’ll never have to go hungry again.”

   Jason laughed wetly. It was so… so stupid… but it was already defusing the tight panic in his chest. “Yeah?”

   “Yeah.” Timmy nuzzled into his hair, cradling Jason more carefully against his tiny chest. He was so incredibly small. There was no reason for Jason to feel this safe… this cherished… this held… “You reeeeeally don’t smell too good, okay? Let’s go home. I got a little lost; do you know the way home from here?”

   Jason nodded firmly, standing up on shaky legs. He could figure this out. Probably.

   He could not figure this out.

   Jason rested his forehead against the brick of an insurance building, breathing slowly through his nose. All he could taste was acid. Oh, and guilt… and fear…

   “Are we lost?” Timmy whispered anxiously, squeezing his hand. “We can ask for directions. It’s lunchtime. There are a lotta people around. No one’s gonna hurt us if we ask for help.”

   Jason tried to straighten up. His vision swam. He had to keep Timmy calm. He had to get someplace safe before his body literally killed him. He had to be strong. “I…”

   Timmy sniffed his shoulder before leaning back, gagging. “If you don’t let me ask for directions, I’m gonna call the police.”

   Fear shot through Jason’s veins, lending strength to his jittery limbs. “No… no. I got it.”

   “You would probably think better if you ate. Can we at least eat?”

   Jason’s instincts narrowed. Pup. HUNGRY pup. “Yeah. Yes. I lifted some… some cash…”

   “Oh.” Timmy hugged the newspaper bundle with one hand, squeezing Jason’s fingers with the other, and pulled them gently across the street. “That’s probably safer than a card. There’s a diner. Let’s stop there.”

   “Owner’s… hate ‘n me…”

   “Why? Nevermind; what’s he look like?”

   “Bald spot’n head.”

   “Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for him. Anything else important?”

   “Lady’s… Shawna… tell’er ‘m roofied.”

   Timmy stopped so fast that Jason bumped into him. “What?!”

   “No,” Jason groaned miserably, trying to keep the world from spinning him right off his axis. “Not ACTUALLY, jus’ f’r explanation.”

   “Aren’t you sick?”

   “Better roofied th’n sick ‘round here. Sick you don’ recover from so easily. Roofie wears off.”

   “How d’you know?”

   “Seen s’m others. Didn’ get myself, don’ worry.”

   Timmy grabbed his hand a little tighter, taking a deep breath, and pulled them through the door with a soft jingle. “Okay… okay.”

   “Hey, no handouts this time’a day; get lost,” a grouchy voice rang.

   “It’s just Jason, Shawna,” Timmy said snappily, all brass, and whoa--- When had his voice changed? Jason squinted at the tiles between his feet, trying to stay standing. His focus narrowed to the voices an’ the tiny hand in his. “He got roofied.”

   “I don’t believe it. At this hour?”

   “I brought cash; we just wanna sit an’ eat while it wears off.”

   “That’s gonna take a while, hun. You got someone to call? I ain’t seen you around before.”

   Jason managed to raise his head a little, scoffing. “Jus’ give ‘m th’ damn food.”

   A heavy sigh preceded the wad of cash disappearing from Timmy’s outstretched hand. “Fine. Take the corner booth over there. You can stay until closing.”

   “We probably won’t need to,” Timmy said reasonably, sliding them into the booth with Jason in the most defensible corner. “All I gotta do is borrow her phone or somethin’, Jay; Mom’ll pick us up---”

   “No,” Jason growled anxiously, knocking his head against his folded arms. Blessed coolness crept into his overheated skin. “Food. Then… lemme think. Don’ wan’ her knowing I did this t’ you.”

   “Did WHAT? Let me talk you into invading the city together without telling?” Tim scoffed faintly. “This is MY fault, okay? I can take care of it. I think.”

   Jason’s mouth twitched. It felt a little better to be sitting still with his back against a wall. Like for just a few minutes… if however painfully… he could breathe.

   Timmy’s hand rested gently in his hair, stroking. When he spoke, it was only a whisper. “You’re really sick, huh?”

   Jason grunted miserably. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Tim what was happening. That would involve knowing what was happening, and he didn’t have the strength to know. He was so, so tired.

   “Here’s that food, boys,” a grating voice boomed. “It’s still hot.”

   “Thanks,” Tim said politely, almost sticking to Posh before his voice remembered to slide down towards Annoyed. “Keep the change.”

   The woman bumbled off again by the sounds of it, muttering under her breath. Jason took several deep inhales, sipping the water carefully. He could barely look at the food.

   “Hey.” Tim pushed Jason’s portion of the hot sandwich a little closer. “Let’s eat together.”

   Jason slowly picked it up, keeping his gaze on Timmy. The little alpha held eye contact as he took a tiny bite. Jason matched him. They chewed and swallowed and went in for a second bite. It was slightly bigger this time.

   It only took three before Jason’s stomach remembered how empty it was. He forced himself to eat slowly, keeping his eyes down now. Timmy would be their lookout.

   He doesn’t know what he’s doing, a traitorous voice hissed. That’s what you’re supposed to TEACH him.

   Jason wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Hey… keep an eye peeled. Lemme know if anyone looks at us for longer ‘n one second.”

   “Okay, one second,” Tim whispered around his food, turning his back to Jason’s shoulder. “Got it.”

   Jason scoffed between his teeth, but it was… nice. Having a protective little body between him and the outside world and… It didn’t make sense. If shit hit the fan, Jason would be the one to handle it. Timmy would just be in the way.

   Jason’s increasingly hazy instincts sure didn’t see it like that.

   “Okay,” Tim murmured when the food was almost gone. “What’s the plan?”

   Jason considered the last bite of his sandwich, picking it apart to chew on each ingredient separately. Some were crunchy. Some were meaty. Some were soft. “We can get back to your place without causing a scene. If your folks find out we were gone… Let alone what we got up to…”

   Timmy finally turned to offer a suspicious look. “They don’t hit.”

   Jason laughed tightly. That was the least of his worries. Besides, after having one conversation with Janet Drake, the alpha of the family, he knew that it was probably true. “Nah, they’ll just kick me out. An’ I honestly wouldn’t blame ‘em.”

   Tim surprised him by grabbing a handful of his jacket, white fire lighting up his angry eyes. “They WON’T. I won’t let them.”

   Jason slumped a little bit, whining. He couldn’t stop the noise this time. It was getting really hard to think.

   “Sorry,” Timmy whispered next, quieter, as he drew his scent down Jason’s shoulder. “I won’t let them. Okay?”

   Jason breathed in, blinking rapidly. “Okay. Great. We can still get back in one piece. We just gotta find a bus that takes us through the city. If we can get to the Diamond District---”

   “We can get to Bristol. Genius.”

   “Heh… not really. You’re the one who memorized our way.”

   “Oh… oh yeah. I dunno it from here, though.”

   “First things first, then. We gotta get you somewhere you recognize.”

   “There’s an old bus stop still in use on the edge of the Narrows; I know it’s technically further, but it’s the only one I can think of that’s guaranteed a bus…”

   Timmy trailed off as Jason slooooooowly raised his head. “You know this… how?”

   The tiny alpha suddenly seemed verrrrry interested in his straw wrapper. “I like to study Gotham’s infrastructure, that’s all.”

   “For what purpose, Tim?”

   “Look, I don’t see what…” Tim shrank into his shoulders as a very grumpy omega growl crept from Jason’s throat. “Fine. I like Batman, okay? Well… and Robin, but he’s…”

   “Meaning?”

   The blush reached all the way up to Tim’s ears. “I track him on patrol.”

   “You track Batman. On his patrols.”

   “To take photos.” Tim jerked up, suddenly horrified. “Not for any nefarious reasons!!! Just… Just for me.”

   Jason scrubbed his hands down his face, groaning. “You are focused on the wrong part of that statement, Timmers. We’re coming back to this later. Let’s get you to the Narrows.”

   It actually took a very long time for Jason to muster the strength to leave that booth. By the time they had made the long, arduous, excruciating journey through the most hidden back alleyways of Crime Alley, avoiding everyone who looked suspicious, doubling back when Tim felt too paranoid about being followed, and trying not to get caught in a ferociously cold downpour, it was late afternoon, and Jason was ready to pass out right there on the sidewalk.

   “Here!!!” Tim caught Jason’s hand, pointing. “C’mon, Jay; I know this street. It’s not too far now.”

   Jason bit back the tears, trudging after his anxious baby maybe-brother as fast as he could manage to. “Are y’ sure?”

   “Yes… yes, here it is. Are you okay? You don’t look… Jason?”

   Jason sank down on the bus stop bench, heedless of the dirty wads of gum, and sighed heavily. The entire world was spinning. His eyes were also deciding to malfunction, apparently.

   “Oh,” Tim said softly, and his voice was suddenly very squeaky. “Oh, don’t cry, Jason. We’ll be okay.”

   Jason scrubbed ruthlessly at his eyes, grunting. He couldn’t worry Tim. Maybe… Maybe this had been a bad idea. He hadn’t been able to rally like he thought he could; he couldn’t protect the tiny alpha like this. It was just… they were so fuckin’ close…

   Tim leaned against Jason’s shoulder to offer support, kicking his feet. They didn’t even touch the ground. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

   Jason huffed weakly, closing his eyes. “Is that so?”

   “I know this sucks, but the worse you feel, the weirder it makes me. I dunno. I’m pretty sure I can take care of you.”

   “Weird?”

   “Like…” Tim’s tone sounded distinctly annoyed. “Like I wanna crush a can against my forehead an’ bite you for no reason. Is that dumb?”

   “Nah.” Jason thought ruefully of Janet Drake’s parental worries. Emerging alpha instincts were exactly the point. Pity they had to happen in the middle of the city. “We can take care ‘f that later, m’kay?”

   “Okay.” Tim grabbed Jason’s hand again, squeezing. “It’ll be a little while before the bus gets here. No one’ll bother us in the rain.”

   The implicit permission, however naive, was wonderful to hear. As soon as Jason rested his head against his own shoulder, though, he felt a tug rousing him from a fitful sleep. “Whuh?”

   “C’mon, Jay; it’s our bus.” Someone small pulled him to his lumbering feet. “The Diamond District, please. Yes, here’s my pass…”

   Jason struggled to keep up as reality just slipped by. Bus… rumbling… stopping… going again… rain. He couldn’t hear the words. It made him so upset.

   “It’s okay,” that voice whispered. A gentle hand combed through his hair. “I’m gonna get us home.”

   Jason blinked back to awareness just in time to catch a whistling sound. “Great.”

   The bus screeched to a stop in front of an explosion in the middle of the street. “Out, everybody out!!!”

   Tim lead the way with increasing confusion into the blue dusk, never once letting go of Jason’s hand. “What’s going on?!”

   “Damn Rogue attack,” Jason grunted painfully, trying to ignore his pounding head. “Where are we?”

   “Not far enough---”

   “Get us away from th’ action. Take a left. We c’n walk th’ rest of th’ way.”

   The sounds of destruction began to fade. “Geez, they’re not even waiting for sunset? Here, Jason, left here. Are you sure you don’t want me to call---”

   “No. C’mon, Bristol bus stop. Only a few… few blocks.”

   “Yeah, like fifteen. C’mon, Jason, there’s no way---”

   “I can’t…” Jason grabbed a handful of Tim’s stupidly huge jacket, trying not to let his voice shake. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything other than painful, terrifying, all-consuming heat. “I can’t let them… let them see… how badly I…”

   “Okay,” Tim soothed quietly, ignoring what Jason didn’t know how to say. He wrapped an arm around Jason’s ribs, steadying him. “We can make fifteen blocks.”

   Jason’s focus narrowed to his feet. He should have been keeping a lookout, but all he could think of was the safety that came with a house like Drake Manor. He couldn’t call for help at the risk of losing everything. If he was thrown back on the streets like this, that was it. He couldn’t survive another heat alone, even in the orphanage. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t. He would be abandoned in the cold at the very least, and at most…

   “I gotchu,” a steady voice whispered in his ear. “We’re almost there.”

   Jason peered out of the mouth of hellish eternity. There it was… the second bus stop. He could have sobbed in relief. “We’re home fr---”

   A car pulled up behind them with a screeeeeech. A white car. A car with bespoke tires.

   Jason froze where he stood, cold dismay flooding his spine as the doors opened. No… NO… “Mr. Drake.”

   “Hello, Jason,” the man said calmly, straightening his shirt sleeves as soon as he had fully emerged. He was short--- Shorter than Janet in heels--- but his presence was solid. As he leveled them with a steady glare from solemn eyes that crinkled at the corners, Jason thought that there was nothing in the entire world that would get him to move.

   Then, as Janet Drake stormed around the other side of the Bugatti, that resolution dissolved into a very real flight possibility. “Jason Peter Todd.”

   Jason’s back hit a wall and he then he yelped and then Timmy was in front of him, snarling.

   Janet stopped short, gasping. “Timothy.”

   “Leave him alone,” Timmy growled out, high-pitched and anything but threatening and it made Jason wanna cry--- “He’s really sick. This is all my fault---”

   Jack Drake stepped forward, raising both hands. “Let’s discuss this back at the house. Our young guest is going into heat.”

   “What?!” Janet practically shrieked, her overwhelming protect-claim-mine scent doubling, while Timmy squeaked, “Really???”

   Jason backed up, breathing hard, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere, nowhere--- He was trapped, he was--- and they would---

   “JANET,” Jack Drake snapped. “Tim.”

   Both alphas froze. A calm wave of firm-steady-dangerous-cold-resolved snuck into the air, blanketing the cloud of alpha pheromones with a sense of quiet power.

   Jason shivered from the top of his head to the heels of his feet. Oh. The beta was in charge.

   Jack Drake pointed to Tim, then to Janet. Tim glanced at Jason… and stepped away.

   Jason’s cry of dismay was cut short as the beta approached, kneeling in front of him. “That must have scared you, Jason. Going into heat in the middle of the city is no joke.”

   “I know,” Jason managed hoarsely, hugging himself tight. He tried to blink the wetness from his eyes. “I thought I’d b-be fine. It’s never come on s-so fast.”

   “You tasted safety,” Mr. Drake cocked his head, offering a bared wrist. “Your body is likely doing everything in its power to make sure you latch onto it. There’s no shame.”

   Jason reached back, hiccupping softly, and allowed Mr. Drake to scent his wrist. “S’ stupid.”

   “It doesn’t have to be.” The beta ever so carefully held Jason’s hand, stroking his thumb over dirty knuckles the way Mrs. Drake did. “Will you allow us to take you home, Jason? We can talk about this little excursion later. Neither of you are in serious trouble---”

   “Speak for yourself---” Mrs. Drake started.

   “And my only present concern,” Mr. Drake continued, ignoring her. “is helping you feel safe. What d’you say?”

   Jason opened his mouth to respond like a human being, but a keeeeeeen leaked out of his tight throat instead. Just like that, the dam broke. He collapsed into open arms, sobbing, and suddenly… reality shifted. The intimidating stare seemed kind, the intense voice was filled with reassurance, and the scent… the SCENT…

   “There,” Mr. Drake hummed calmly, standing up with Jason snug in his arms. (When was the last time Jason had been carried like this? By a man? By a father? When…) “There we are. Timothy, wait with your mother for the bus, please. In hindsight, taking the Bugatti was a mistake. I will drive Jason home.”

   “We might need to invest in a minivan,” Mrs. Drake said quietly, subdued.

   Mr. Drake let go with one hand only long enough to cup his wife’s cheek, trailing forgiving-patient-firm from his fingertips. Then that hand was back on Jason’s spine, holding him close. “Quite. Do you feel comfortable with me driving you home, Jason?”

   No, Jason should have said, but the answer that came out was all instinct. “P-Please.”

   Mr. Drake lowered him gently into the passenger side of the white Bugatti for the second time in as many days. He stayed for a moment to fasten the seatbelt, tuck Jason’s hair behind his ear, and mark him very lightly with that wonderful beta scent. His eyes were so incredibly soft. They seemed golden. “It is not a weakness to need a break from those two, Jason. Alphas can be overwhelming at the best of times. It is no reflection on you or your character to want something a little quieter. Do you understand me?”

   Jason nodded along, unable to stop himself; unable to look away. Then--- just like that--- Jack Drake was gone, moving around the front of the car so that Jason could see him getting into the driver’s seat. Tim popped up in the open door, hovering.

   “Aw…” Jason laughed dizzily, swiping at his brother’s cheek. “Don’… don’ cry.”

   “I’m not crying,” Tim denied fitfully, sniffing. He cupped Jason’s face like his dad had done to his mom. “I should have known you were in heat. Look, I’ll be home super quick. We’re gonna nest together an’ I’m gonna take care of you. I promised.”

   Jason’s eyelids were so unbearably heavy. “Y’n… trouble?”

   “You’re not in any trouble, Jason. I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay? Dad’s gonna get you home. Dad’s gonna take… Jason? Jason, I’m coming, okay? I’m coming…”

Chapter Text

   He woke to the sticky honey scent of heat, startled upright, and tipped right over a ledge. His stomach swooped before he hit a wooden floor with a hearty THUMPH.

   A ruffled head of hair popped up over the edge of the bed. “Jason!!!”

   Jason looked up, trying to glare through the tears already pooling in his eyes. He couldn’t control his scent as it washed with fear. “Where are we?”

   Tim slid down, diving into Jason’s personal space. Jason almost choked as he was wrapped in a surprisingly strong hug. It didn’t hurt, but the scent… the scent…

   Timmy pulled back, frantically scrubbing Jason’s hair, neck, and shoulders down with baby alpha scent, worried-angry-determined-possessive-safe. “Are you okay?”

   Jason grabbed onto Tim’s arms to anchor himself through the dizziness, glowering grumpily. “You… YOU…”

   Timmy looked up at him with those wide blue eyes, lips pressed together in a thin line, and Jason suddenly realized that he was looking at steel.

   Tim… Tim was in rut.

   “We’re at my parents’ house,” Tim finally answered, and it echoed distantly, and Jason…

   Jason was so fucking confused.

   “The Drake Estate,” Tim continued helpfully. He pulled Jason restlessly closer, trying to haul them both back up to the nest. Jason tried to help him, but his legs felt like noodles, so he mostly leaned on Timmy’s newfound strength. Landing back in the soft depths that smelled only like pup and nurture and home did something soothing to his instincts. He buried his nose in a hoodie with a deeeeeeep sigh.

   “There.” Tim sat criss-cross next to him, stroking his fingers repeatedly through Jason’s hair. His agitated bond smoothed with fond affection. And something else, something Jason wasn’t used to. Awe.

   Jason twisted away, uncomfortably vulnerable under such an adoring gaze, and pressed his heated face into the wonderful nest. “Trouble?”

   “No, we’re not in trouble. They do wanna talk to us, though. When you’re feeling a lil’ better, I mean. Obviously they won’t… Jason?”

   Jason realized hazily that he had clenched his fists in the blankets. “Why’re you ‘n…”

   “What?”

   “Heat… No…”

   “Yeah, you’re in heat. I was stupid, Jason; I should have sensed it before I ever let you step foot off the property. I’ll do better next time if you stay, I swear---”

   The reminder of his somewhat insecure position in the Drake household made Jason’s instincts whimper. Or maybe he did that out loud, because Timmy suddenly stopped talking, scrubbing Jason down in another unnecessary layer of scent.

   Jason sorta lost track of everything after that.

   “--- imothy?” he heard eventually. It was… underwater… except that wasn’t right, was it? You couldn’t talk when you were underwater. The air bubbles would escape. Jason giggled quietly.

   Someone’s arms tightened around his back. “No, don’t take him.”

   “I am not going to move him, son. I need to check his temperature.”

   “I can do it!!!”

   “Timothy, you are entering rut. I need you to work with me, please.”

   “Wh… What?”

   Jason laboriously raised his head, triumphant. “THA’S what I’s gonna say. Rut.”

   Tim’s blurry face grew very red. “I… I didn’t…”

   “Easy.” The man’s voice grew closer, and then there was an unknown wrist in Jason’s nest, and he hissssssed, instincts flaring up like an agitated blowfish. Timothy growled immediately in response, high pitched and angry and dangerous.

   “Timothy,” the man’s voice soothed, snapping firm underneath.

   Tim’s shoulders shrank. “S-Sorry.”

   “It’s alright.” That wrist stayed, palm turned up in deference. “These instincts are completely normal. You remember what it’s like to go into rut, don’t you?”

   “I only had o-one.”

   “Yes.” The intruding beta scent began to soften, tinging gently with fond amusement. “You and your mother barely let me leave for the restroom last time.”

   Tim’s bond was still flooded with embarrassment, but he tipped his chin up to be scented, so Jason supposed everything was probably okay. He buried his face against Timmy’s collarbone, letting the meaningless conversation wash over him.

   “Is that why she’s not here?” Tim whispered miserably. “Did I snap at her, too?”

   “No, my boy, no. Your mother is staying downstairs until your instincts settle. You’ve never had a rut with an omega before, much less a new sibling. She knows her presence might only distress the both of you. Once you’ve stabilized a bit, she’ll come up to have a conversation with you about any new questions you may have. I… must admit that she’s better versed on the subject.”

   Tim’s scent calmed, settling back into possessive-sleepy-proud. “I don’t mean to be weird about it.”

   “It isn’t weird, Timothy; it’s normal. You’re doing a fantastic job guarding your brother.”

   “Really?”

   “Truly. Look how safe he feels. Omega pups don’t nest where they don’t feel safe.”

   Timmy’s hug tightened as the pride in his scent tripled. Jason made a pleased sort of noise, nosing further into the warmth. Yes. This was good.

   “I’m impressed,” the beta hummed. “If you need anything, anything at all, you let me know. I am going to leave your meals on a tray just outside of the door. When you are ready for your mother’s presence, just tug. We’ll feel you.”

   Timmy sniffled softly. “Is she upset? The last time she couldn’t guard me, she… she was upset.”

   “She wishes she could be by your side, of course.” The beta’s hand rested on Jason’s hair, making him jump, but a few gentle strokes had the tension melting away. “The most important thing, however, is making sure that Jason feels safe. Don’t you agree?”

   Jason’s alpha nuzzled into his hair, sighing in satisfaction. “Yea.”

   “Good.” The fingers retreated. “Please keep your phone handy. Jason? Is there anything you need?”

   Jason tried to squint in Jack Drake’s general direction. That WAS the dad, right? Timmy wouldn’t let anyone else near their nest, probably. Timmy smelled insanely, awesomely protective. “G’nna… drown’n. G’v’n me s’me air bubbles.”

   Blurry eyebrows crept up the man’s face. “Is that all?”

   Jason buried his face in his brother’s shoulder, sighing happily. “Myeah.”

   “Alright. Timothy?”

   “Phone is handy.”

   “Good. Dinner will be up in two hours.”

   “I wanna bite you,” someone whispered softly. It was accompanied by fierce nuzzling, which was very much unwanted in this exact moment, actually, because Jason was sleeping. “You smell so darn good…”

   Jason raised his head enough to attempt a glare. He was probably doing a bad job, he thought. “G’nna… bite you.”

   Timmy laughed bashfully, scooting down to bury himself in Jason’s arms. He seemed so small all of a sudden. “Not like that, dork. I won’t bite you, don’t worry.”
   Jason cuddled his tiny pup close, trying to remember why this was a problem. Everything felt very… very fuzzy. “Heat?”

   “Yup. It’s day three. I’m in rut, too, which… I dunno if I’m doing a good job at.” Anxiously twitchy wrists stroked sick-worried-nervous into Jason’s hair. “Sorry. I’ve never had a sibling before.”

   Jason made a displeased noise, tipping his chin back. Timmy was being… being something. That weak scent was wrong. It was missing something important, an undertone that was supposed to be there, wasn’t it? Healthy alphas didn’t smell so scared.

   Tim sucked in. “I… I thought you didn’t…”

   Jason kept his chin tipped back, making a noise of impatience. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but his instincts sure did. Timmy needed something. Jason could give the something. Then Timmy would be okay, and then Jason would be okay, and everything would be okay forever. Or at least until the morning.

   The sting of sharp teeth burying into his shoulder made a whine leak from Jason’s tight throat. Tim whined back, but he didn’t let go--- He probably couldn’t--- and a moment later, it didn’t matter. His pointy teeth broke skin.

   Jason sank in slow motion, breathing out for what felt like eternity. He could hear his heartbeat slowing. It didn’t bother him so much. Everything was so… so heavy… and his head was emptying of every thought. Blissful relaxation tinged with rosy warm affection swept through his body, down his left arm first, then his neck, his chest…

   Jason’s eyes rolled shut as the baby alpha venom reached his heart, speeding up through his bloodstream. Was this what being high felt like? The brief spike of anxiety had no staying power. He forgot about it. Everything was so damn slow… and gentle… and amazing…

   “Jason?” a worried voice filtered through, but it was so far away. He couldn’t move. “Jason?! Mom!!!”

   Jason sank away, uneasy, but unable to surface. Someone left him. His chest twisted into knots as the room emptied of warmth. Please… come back. Don’t leave me…

   “Timothy,” a voice echoed urgently. “Lie on top of him, please.”

   Someone crushed him into the nest, flattening his sluggish heartbeat under a much faster one, and Jason’s earthy scent exploded into relief. He nuzzled pup-brother-home-smelling hair, whining. He couldn’t have stopped the tears if he had wanted to.

   “I made him cry,” the smaller voice squeaked.

   “Take deep breaths. As you manage to calm down, Jason should calm as well.”

   “I’m sorry.” His alpha curled protectively close, holding Jason’s head tightly against his rabbity heartbeat. “Sorry, Jason, sorry…”

   Jason’s muscles began to unwind. The heavy fog started to feel like bliss again instead of fighting sludge. He tipped his chin back, trying to submit, and why… Why was he trying to submit? It wasn’t safe to submit… but then his alpha nuzzled his neck, stroking a tiny nose from collarbone to jaw, and Jason tipped over the edge, spiraling back down into empty fluff-filled surrender.

   It felt so, so good.

   “What did I do?” the voice echoed in a whisper. Someone’s hand cupped the back of his neck, covering his scruff. Jason’s body felt SAFE.

   “You made him feel protected,” another voice answered. It didn’t make very much sense, but it was female, so Jason supoooooosed he didn’t mind it being so close. “You bit him, correct?”

   “I didn’t mean to.”

   “He NEEDS your venom, Timothy.”

   “Really?”

   “Yes. That intense urge you felt to protect, to cover him, shelter him, is very healthy. It means you have a strong bond, for starters. It also means you’re a good alpha.”

   Jason’s alpha pulled back a little, cradling Jason’s head in his hands. Jason slow-blinked at adoring blue eyes. He tried to purr happily. It felt very far away. “I am?”

   “You ARE, Timothy. SO good. Your only mistake was in leaving him.”

   “I… I needed help.”

   “And I am honored that you chose to call on me, but you could have used your bond or phone. Pups, omega pups, omega pups in submission are extremely vulnerable. You must stay with someone you have put into submission at all times; keep them safe and grounded and cared for while they rest. Do you understand?”

   “Yes Mother.”

   “How is he feeling now? Use your bond.”

   A familiar presence, anxious and guilty and oh so young, ventured into the edges of Jason’s mental space. His purr strengthened, intense affection drowning his every thought. Timmyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

   His alpha giggled. “I… I think he feels pretty good. Is he supposed to be… be…”

   “He is effectively drugged on your venom, yes. Your pheromones must be getting stronger. Especially in rut. He will be very sensitive to everything about you while you are in rut, Timothy, no matter what state he himself is in. Do remember that.”

   “I don’t wanna hurt him.”

   “I don’t believe you have. The venom numbs the bite, and it also includes a subtle healing effect much like purring does. You are helping him to recover from his years of neglect.”

   “Wow.” Timmy’s blue eyes returned to Jason’s fuzzy vision, brimming with happiness. “Awesome.”

   Jason purred loudly. Alpha was happy. Alpha was happy with him. That meant that Jason was doing a good job. Good job Jason.

   “He loves you,” the female said, sounding amused.

   “I love him.” Timmy’s eyebrows furrowed. “I love you, Jason. Can you hear me? I loooove youuuuuuuuu.”

   Jason’s eyes filled with tears. “Ngh,” he said, but it was supposed to be a cussword he couldn’t remember.

   Timmy hugged him very tight, hiding Jason’s face in a soft shoulder. “Why do I keep making him cry?”

   “He is sensitive to you, remember? He wants to make you happy. I suppose it is all very emotional. He hasn’t had a heat in a very long time, and I doubt whether he’s ever been bonded to a safe alpha in rut. It’s an overwhelming medley of experiences.”

   “Should I stop?”

   “You might scruff him to take the edge off. He might want to sleep. Do let him.”

   A small hand scrubbed Jason’s nape, flooding the deep purple fluff with a wave of dizziness. “Can I scruff you, Jay?”

   “He can hardly give you permission, son---”

   “Yes, he can. He has to.” Concern washed across their bond, gently tugging. “Not waiting for permission makes me no better than the bad guys. You told me, you said.”

   “Yes… So I did. It’s just… with him already in submission…”

   Jason frowned fiercely, turning the question around in his head. There was an… an important… He couldn’t make sense of the words. His instincts knew, though, so he leaned into those. An inviting chirp escaped his throat.

   Answering fondness was quick to bounce across their bond, humble with honor. That hand gripped Jason’s nape, squeezing tightly. “I gotcha.”

   Everything slowed into a peaceful deep.

   It was an ear-popping yawn that made him surface. His braincells treaded water gently, unhurried. It was nice. The safe fuzziness of blissful surrender…

   Nagging uneasiness intruded on his peace. Jason pried his eyes open, trying to unstick the sleep gunk. He was somewhere. Somewhere… safe? He had thought, but… maybe…

   Smiling blue eyes, bright folds of sky, popped up in his suddenly sharp vision. “Hi.”

   Jason blinked rapidly, crossing his eyes to get a better look. His instincts eased. Riiiiight… Pack. Heat. Safe. “Hi.”

   Timmy effectively tackled him into the depths of the nest, nuzzling him rather hard. Jason ackpthed in sleepy protest, grinning. The unbearably heavy submission was still there, still available for the diving, but he tried to focus, to stay on the surface instead. Timmy was here, still here, and the fragile relief was worth reveling in.

   The tiny alpha let up with a sheepish grin, rubbing Jason’s wrist against his cheek. “Sorry. I know I’m a lot right now.”

   Jason reached out, hauling his pup brother back down into a hug. He was the perfect (smothering) hugging size. “Shuddup. You’re just the right amount.”

   Tim nuzzled into Jason’s neck, rumbling happily, and it vibrated straight down to the insides of Jason’s bones. He almost fell asleep on the spot. His eyes felt weirdly wet.

   “Hey.” Gentle thumbs stroked away his tears. “Heyyyyyy. Did I scare you? I’m sorry. I won’t bite you again, don’t worry.”

   “Don’ say that.” Jason took a steadying breath. C’mon. The lack of braincells was embarrassing. Sure, this probably meant his body was fixing a lot of really awful shit baked into his system from years of stress, but still. “I can’t stop.”

   “Crying?”

   “I’m not sad. I just…” Jason squeezed his eyes shut, heated. “I can’t…”

   Timmy’s thumbs continued stroking away his tears, tenderly massaging that gentle alpha scent into Jason’s skin. “It must be a lot… a lotta care you aren’t used to. If that makes…”

   “Yeah.” Jason hung on, breathing deeply. The haze of submission was retreating, but he felt… a little more settled. Timmy was actually pretty good at this. “Y’re the best.”

   “Really?”

   Jason cracked his eyes open, uncomfortably vulnerable. “I’ve never felt this safe.”

   Timmy’s eyes took up half of his face. He seemed speechless for once, and after staring at Jason for a stretching ten seconds, he buried his nose in Jason’s hair, curling in on himself with embarrassment. Like a lil’ pill bug.

   Now THAT was cute.

   Jason scented Tim’s back in long, soothing strokes, faintly amused. This was nice. The quiet nest and the scent of food he must have recently eaten with no memory of doing so and the way a tiny rumble still vibrated in his bones from the tiny pup leader in his arms…

   Yeah. It was really… really good.

   Tim finally peeked out from his hiding place, observing Jason with one shiny eye. “How d’you feel?”

   Jason smacked his mouth experimentally. He felt a little bit gross, to be honest, but he didn’t want to take a shower. His skin felt absolutely saturated in layers of pack scent, of brother and home and safe, of nurturing-sleeping-pups and gentle-love-keep and fierce-angst-protect. He didn’t wanna rinse any of that off. Just the idea made him shiver with sympathy pain. Like scrubbing off a protective layer of skin with steel wool.

   “Jason?” Tim sat up, rubbing more of his scent into Jason’s wrist. “Are you okay?”

   “Yeah.” With considerable effort, Jason hauled himself upright, swaying. “Have you been… Have we eaten? I don’t remember eating.”

   Timmy perked up, clouded rut scent beginning to clear with purpose-determined-happy, and wow, that was… that was incredible, actually. Jason felt like he was watching a flower unfold in fast motion.

   “Yeah, we’ve eaten,” Tim was rambling, working to get them untangled from warm blankets. “I sorta fed you, but you just did whatever I said after I bit you, so I mostly told you to feed yourself. You don’t remember? That’s probably normal, I think; Mom said you wouldn’t. It’s been like… five days. I’m almost outta rut now, which is also normal. You should be outta heat, but Mom says your body will probably hang onto it for healing purposes ‘cuz it’s the first time in a long time you’ve felt really safe. We ate about an hour ago. You wanna eat some more? We can eat some more. I think there’s pizza downstairs. Mom said you would probably wake up soon, so she---”

   Jason pawed impatiently at Timmy’s face. “Stahp… stahp. Y’re a lotta words.”

   Tim sputtered with another sheepish grin, slowly helping Jason down from the edge of the bed. “Are you okay around the grownups right now? They’ve been in here to help me a few times, but they didn’t come into the nest or anything.”

   Unease twisted in Jason’s gut. He was finally awake enough to wonder about all of this. Receiving care and food and positive adult intention weren’t impossible things, just… extremely unlikely. And a little bit scary, maybe. He could walk without tripping over his own feet, though, so he put on a brave face. He really did wanna move. “Sure. You said there was pizza?”

   “C’mon.” Timmy wrapped his fingers around Jason’s, happily tugging. He slowed down when he noticed Jason’s lingering sluggishness, but he didn’t say anything. Maybe he wasn’t actually thinking about it. His everything seemed so attuned to Jason’s… aura? Shit, that didn’t make sense. Jason had just never had anyone act so attentive before.

   He tried not to think too hard about that.

   “Careful,” Tim said unnecessarily as they took the stairs two at a time.

   Jason glared at his shaky legs. “Heats are bullshit.”

   “I dunno.” Tim paused patiently whenever Jason did, holding his arm for balance. “I’ve sorta enjoyed it. I mean, I know it must be weird and… and embarrassing…”

   Jason smirked fondly, irritation soothed by his pup’s ruffled sensibilities. He ruffled Timmy’s bedhead to match as soon as they reached the bottom. “You worry too damn much. ‘S okay to enjoy my heat. I… I guess I sorta enjoyed it, too. I haven’t had one that doesn’t hurt in ages. I mean, I only really had two or three before they stopped out on the streets, but…”

   Timmy’s hand tightened around Jason’s arm, angry concern tainting their bond. “That’s not healthy. That’s not healthy, right, Dad?”

   Jason turned around with a flinch, stepping a little behind his alpha. His senses were still dialed up from being feral so recently, how hadn’t he even smelled the beta’s presence in the front hall---

   Jack Drake paged through a handful of mail, seemingly unnoticing of Jason’s sudden apprehension or Tim’s sudden edginess. “No, Timothy, but I daresay it doesn’t bear repeating. Jason knows he was in poor health. So, for that matter, were you. I believe that was part of your mother’s point in---”

   “Why don’t we sit down to eat?” Janet Drake interrupted, sweeping into the hallway with a subtle glare at her absentminded mate. She was dressed down in yoga pants an’ a purple hoodie. Mr. Drake, for that matter, was also dressed in black workout-type clothing. His shirt was sleeveless; drops of rain clung to his skin. Maybe they’d been out for a run? Rich people did that shit, right? It was weird seeing them in such casual clothes, though…

   Jason’s wandering thoughts snapped into sharp focus when Mrs. Drake started to approach. He stepped back, clinging to Timmy’s wrist with one hand, but what--- What was he hoping to do? Run? From the folks who were trying to adopt him?

   Tim stepped back to cover Jason’s chest, lowering his chin as a nervous stubbornness entered his exposed scent. “Please give him some space, Mother.”

   Jason’s eyebrows flew up--- What the actual HELL, Tim must have had a DEATH wish--- but Mrs. Drake actually stepped back. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, folded hands perfectly controlled. She was holding something back, something that made Jason nervous down to the balls of his feet, but her subtle scent, purposefully muted, was awash with pride. “Yes, of course. Are you hungry, Jason? I was not entirely sure when you would wake, but Timothy was craving pizza, so I ordered enough for everyone.”

   Tim’s ears turned red for some reason, but he looked at Jason, expectant. And now Mr. Drake was looking, too, calm eyes full of mild interest, and everyone was staring…

   “Uhm…” Jason cleared his throat. “Pizza, yes, yes please. That sounds good. Thank you Mrs. Drake.”

   The alpha woman actually smiled, something relaxed in the set of her shoulders, and the suppressed strength of her hands suddenly clicked into place in Jason’s head. Oh… alpha. She wants to take care of me.

   He thought about the twitchy upset that entered Timmy’s scent when the alpha pup felt unable to help, and then he felt guilty--- Was he making Mrs. Drake feel like that? Then he squashed the emotion with a vengeance. It didn’t matter if these people were pissed off that they couldn’t obsess or possess or whatever weird shit parents liked to do. This was HIS heat, HIS head, and HIS body. He’d fight ‘em off with a rake if he felt like it. All he wanted was Timmy.

   Apparently unaware of the racing thoughts that couldn’t keep up with Jason’s feet, Tim pulled them firmly into the smaller dining room off the kitchen, seating Jason in a different chair than last time with his back to the wall. Jason’s stomach warmed, then grumbled. He must have burned a lotta calories in heat or something. That made sense, right? Cuddling on its own didn’t take that much energy.

   Well, unless you were doing it the way Timmy did.

   The pizza was… surprisingly incredible. The savory flavors did something soothing to Jason’s instincts, and the way Timmy continued refilling his plate made him purr deeeeep down in a tender spot that nothing was supposed to reach. After about half a pizza on his own, though, Timmy gently pushed the box away.

   Jason stared at him openly, very close to whining. It was only the presence of the adults talking quietly at the other end of the table that kept him quiet.

   “You can’t eat too much food,” Tim said lowly, rubbing his scent into the back of Jason’s neck. “You’ll get sick. Let it settle for a few minutes. If you’re still hungry, we can eat again later.”

   Jason subsided with an emotional huff, scrubbing his nose against Timmy’s shoulder. Fine. Dumb alpha babies an’ their dumb protective---

   Mrs. Drake placed her folded hands on the table, sitting straight. “If you are comfortable now, we would like to discuss your excursion to Crime Alley.”

   Jason’s entire spine stiffened with chilly terror. He knew it. The other shoe. It had felt so close; he had sensed---

   “Can’t it wait, dear?” Mr. Drake hummed quietly, mirroring Mrs. Drake’s pose on the tabletop. “The boy is still in heat, after all.”

   “No.” Mrs. Drake’s nostrils flared, cold fire burning in her eyes. “It cannot.”

   Jason half expected the beta to assert calm dominance as he had before, but to his increasing anxiety, Mr. Drake shrugged and leaned back and relaxed.

   Timmy grabbed Jason’s hand, squeezing. His body language was full of fierce defensiveness, but his bond was nervous. That, more than anything, made Jason scared. “Whatever you have to say you can say to both of us.”

   Mrs. Drake arched one eyebrow, something flickering in the corner of her mouth. “Obviously. Let me preface, Jason, by being very clear about my intentions. Being sent away, deprived of food, or harmed in any form are not the options on the table. I have been reminded in our… private discussions of the matter… that it would be wise to take your possible past experiences with discipline into account.”

   Tim squeezed Jason’s hand. Jason swallowed hard. He was gonna be sick. “Yes Ma’am.”

   Mrs. Drake’s eyebrows lowered like a stormy thundercloud. “I must impress upon you the foolishness of your actions. Timothy, have you learned nothing? And Jason, I must admit, I expected smarter from you. I wished that you might benefit my son, not put him directly in harm’s way. Timothy revealed that you were nearly mugged.”

   A wave of shame from Tim’s bond gave Jason the strength to lift his chin. “It was all my fault. Tim had nothing to do with it. You wanted me to help him be a better alpha.” The to toughen him up went unsaid, but it was heavily implied, and Jason watched her narrow her eyes as she, too, recalled her first instructions. “I was just following orders an’ giving him practice.”

   “No,” Tim said sharply before Jason’s brash snark could properly sink in. He turned a fierce glare on his omega, making Jason shrink again. “Going with you without telling my parents was my idea---”

   “Regardless,” Mrs. Drake cut in, and her voice snapped like a whip. “You both acted very unwisely. You left the house right before Jason’s heat, alone and without permission and supervision, to venture into the depths of the criminal underworld for the sake of adventure---”

   Jason sat straight, sudden horror washing through him, and tugged on Tim. “The… The newspaper bundle, where---”

   “I have it.” Tim pressed his hand over Jason’s, squeezing, and held determined eye contact. “It’s hidden in my room; it’s safe.”

   Jason breathed out, slumping. The sweat was cold on his skin.

   “Dear,” Mr. Drake murmured, watching quietly. “I do believe they might have had a deeper reason for their little escapade than mere fun.”

   Something softened in Mrs. Drake’s expression as she observed them. She didn’t look scary anymore. She just looked… tired. “I will concede that point. If you had asked for assistance, Jason, we would have helped you. Surely you must have known that.”

   Jason realized he was staring too long, slack-jawed. He clicked his mouth shut and glanced away, uncomfortable. The silence sort of spoke for itself.

   Mrs. Drake heaved a quiet sigh. “Timothy?”

   Tim sat straighter, rubbing circles into Jason’s back. “I understand that what we did was unwise. We should have asked for permission to go back for Jason’s things or called for help at the very least once we ran into trouble. I put my omega in danger--- I neglected to sense his heat--- and as such, I will gladly accept the full consequences.”

   “Tim,” Jason whined against his will, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that wondered if this was the same kid who had told him about stalking Batman. “No.”

   “He is not going to be harmed, Jason,” Mrs. Drake reminded him, and her voice gentled. “Discipline is just in this house. As it stands, I believe you have both suffered enough consequences already, but I will defer to your alpha on this matter. As the current most active protector of the pack, Timothy holds the reins.”

   The baby alpha met Jason’s eyes, but none of Jason’s fear reflected there. He blinked thoughtfully, watching the terrified omega breathe. Then a shy determination slid over his face. He turned back to his mother. “I think a period of productive confinement might be in order.”

   Mrs. Drake arched that eyebrow again, a definite smile playing around her lips. “Go on.”

   “We should be grounded from leaving the house for at least one week, as is a standard grounding period,” Tim continued firmly, on a roll of some sort. Where was he going with this? “During that time, we should focus on wellness. Lots of rest, plenty of food, and leisure activities that best facilitate full heat recovery. I will be able to practice listening to, deciphering, and acting on territorial rut instincts, and my omega will have ample freedom to adjust to his new safe space without breaking the terms of the deal, as the confined area includes substantial grounds. After this period of punishment, we may resume our explorations with renewed caution as well as strength.”

   Jason stared at the side of Tim’s head, once again slack-jawed. Mrs. Drake leaned back, folding her arms. Mr. Drake looked quietly proud.

   “Yes… very well,” the elder alpha said into the ringing silence, glancing at her husband. “That sounds like a sensible consequence. What do you think about it, dear?”

   Mr. Drake leaned back against the table, hands clasped, and smiled right through Jason’s eyes to his very soul. “I think our boy is very wise. What d’you think, Jason? Would you like to extend your stay?”

   Jason’s mouth opened and closed and opened again in pure bafflement. He knew that there were laws--- or at least a lot of paperwork--- preventing foster parents from giving up a young pup if that pup bonded with another young child or primary caretaker in the family. Pups died when they were deprived of that shit. He wasn’t sure how much of this was an effort to avoid paperwork, though, and how much of it was genuine. Did they actually want to keep him?

   It didn’t matter, he decided. No way was he giving this up. Not after experiencing the blissful haze of submission to a strong, fierce-love-possessive SIBLING. “Yes… Yes Sir, I do. I would like to. Please.”

   Mr. Drake’s answering smile lit up the entire room. “I’ll finalize the papers. Janet?”

   “Thank you for sitting in on this talk,” Mrs. Drake addressed them, standing with her hands flat on the table. Her mouth was grim again, but her previously steel-edged eyes began to twinkle. “See that he is well cared for, Timothy. I expect my boys to practice proper hygiene.”

   “Yes Ma’am,” Tim answered happily, dragging Jason to his feet as the words “my boys” rang in his ears. “I won’t disappoint you.”

   “I know.” Mrs. Drake approached very slowly, reaching out just far enough to meet Tim halfway with a peck on his forehead. “Don’t rent anything rated R without asking permission, please.”

   “Mooooom,” Tim pouted grumpily as he pulled away, shepherding Jason back up the stairs. “That was supposed to be a surprise.”

   “What?” Jason finally managed to voice. He wasn’t sure what he was questioning. All of it, probably.

   “A movie night I had planned,” Tim admitted grudgingly, pausing at the top of the stairs to steady Jason around the waist. “They bought all the junk snacks. I was gonna let you pick. We can just sleep though, if that’s… Whatever you want.”

   Jason wrapped his fingers around Tim’s arm, swallowing thickly. “That sounds great.”

   “Are you okay?”

   “Yeah, yeah, I just… I didn’t expect…”

   Tim peered up at him critically. “Would your folks… other folks… would they have been unfair?”

   Jason laughed bitterly. “I guess you could say that.”

   Tim’s frown was positively furious. “You won’t ever be treated like that again. My parents don’t hit people, don’t throw things, and especially don’t kick pups out. I didn’t even realize that was something you’d be concerned about; I’m sorry.”

   “‘S not your fault.” Jason squeezed tighter, suddenly emotional. “Y’re really gonna… You really wanna keep me?”

   “Yeah.” Tim wrapped both arms around Jason’s waist, propping his chin against Jason’s chest to look up at him. “You want to, right?”

   Jason wrapped his arms around Tim’s shoulders, clearing his throat. It was no use. His vision had already blurred. “Yeah, Timmy, of course. Of course I wanna stay.”

   “Good.” Tim nuzzled his collarbone before pulling away. “C’mon. Let’s get you that shower. I’ve got more bubble bath.”

Chapter Text

   “What is it?”

   Jason glanced up with a start, clutching the damp newspaper to his chest. He had thought--- Mistakenly--- that he would have time to investigate the contents of his recovered property before Timmy could wake up from a late-night movie marathon hangover, popcorn sticking out of his bedhead. (In all fairness, the Star Wars saga was pretty cool. Especially when you had a little nerd along to ramble and talk to the screen and rant fiercely at you about filming techniques from the dinosaur age.) “What’re YOU doing awake?”

   Timmy pouted fiercely, scrambling from the nest in a very uncoordinated fashion that ended with bumping his knees into Jason’s side, crouching close. “YOU’RE awake. So? What is it?”

   Jason settled back into a criss-cross position, huffing, and tried not to let his fond amusement leak through their strong bond. He uncurled his fingers from the newspaper bundle, holding up the first item he had pulled from its folds. “It’s a cross. My mom gave it to me. It was her dad’s, I think, so I guess it was my grandpa’s. I never knew the guy.”

   “It’s really pretty.” Tim shoved his hands between his own knees as if to keep them to himself, yawning widely. “Not too pretentious, y’know?”

   Jason snorted quietly, picking a piece of stale popcorn from Timmy’s hair. “Where’d you learn so many big words, anyway? Ten-year-olds aren’t s’possed to know big words like that.”

   “Galas. Lots of rich businesspeople talk to my parents. They do it in front’a me, too, ‘cuz they don’t think I can understand.”

   “That sounds like a good way to get information on the sly.” Jason grinned unrepentantly, reaching out to ruffle that silly bedhead even more.

   “It--- Gak--- is!!!” Tim batted Jason’s hands away, almost sprawling into him with the force of his physical insistence. “Why do you know so many big words, huh?”

   “I like to read.” Jason settled down enough to lift the silver cross pendant from its dangling silver chain, holding it up to Timmy’s face. “You see this huge nick in the back of it?”

   Tim’s eyes crossed to get a good look at the textured jewelry piece. “Yea.”

   “That’s where he was almost shot, my grandad.” Jason slid the necklace over his head, trying to ignore the lump in his throat, and gave his new brother a fiendish grin. “He told Mom that the power of Jesus deflected it.”

   “He didn’t die?” Timmy’s adorable brow was already furrowed. “That’s practically impossible. I mean, if it was a straight shot. That little thing’s not big enough to deflect a whole bullet, right? Why was he getting shot at?”

   “I dunno. He wasn’t around to tell me.” Jason tucked the jewelry under his borrowed hoodie, suddenly self-conscious. He had never dared to wear it before. Too high a risk of it getting stolen. Not that it was worth anything… much. To a stranger. “I totally would’a asked him, though.”

   Tim peered over Jason’s shoulder, absently rubbing his cheek against the hoodie. “What else do you have?”

   “Nosy.” Jason pinched Tim’s adorable little nose for emphasis, snorting, and unwound the rest of the layered bundle on the floor. “I never had much that mattered aside from the hoodie you’re washing. Here’s a signed baseball card… Some kid gave it to me when I saved his bacon, but I never had the heart to sell it. I figured I could give it back to him someday.”

   “Oh.” Tim took the little plastic case from Jason’s offering fingers, head cocked. “Where is he?”

   “I… Jason’s throat felt a little funny. He cleared it, trying not to follow that train of thought. “I never saw him again. This’s a little rock I used to draw sometimes on sidewalks or walls when the weather was too bad to leave my shelters. And this is some guy’s wrestling ring; I was gonna pawn it, but I had to figure out which pawn shop wouldn’t sic the original owner on me for having it first.”

   Tim examined the ring gravely before looking up, a quizzical pull between his eyebrows. “And that’s it?”

   Jason made a show of dusting his hands off. “And that’s it.”

   “You were never… sad?” Tim made eye contact as he picked up the worn rock, seemingly afraid that his words would land in the wrong place. “That you didn’t have much stuff?”

   Jason shrugged stiffly. “Nah. You can’t miss what you’ve never experienced, right? Besides, less junk meant more freedom out there.”

   Tim rolled the rock between his hands, looking shy all of a sudden. “Yeah, that’s smart, but I mean… did you ever want more? ANYTHING more?”

   Jason ran his tongue over his teeth, undecided. It caught on a corn kernel. He bought time scratching it out before replying. “I wanted more clothes sometimes, I guess. Maybe nicer ones.”

   Tim held up the rock. “And you liked to draw.”

   Jason swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I guess.”

   Tim hopped up, startling Jason hard enough that the omega fell the hell over. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

   Jason glared at the tiny idiot, rolling over to wrap the items back up. “What are you talking about?”

   “Don’t do that; you can use my lockbox--- No, no, you’ll want your own; we’ll buy you a new one while we’re out.”

   “While we’re out? Timmy. Tim-Tam. Timberlina. We are grounded, remember? You made us grounded for, like, a week.”

   Tim frowned for a second, tapping his foot impatiently. “Riiiiiight. Plus… I guess it wouldn’t be very wise of me to take you out into public while you’re still getting over your heat. I’m in rut, too… Strangers would probably freak me out.” His face lit up again. “We can do some shopping online!!! I already kinda know your size based on how my clothes fit you. It’ll be way less overwhelming, too. You can see more options that aren’t in the stores, anyway, especially when it comes to art supplies.”

   “Wait wait wait,” Jason hurried now, increasingly panicked as he imagined the amount of money about to be dropped on his wardrobe. “When I say I wanted nicer clothes, I meant, like, one nice outfit or just a couple of decent shirts---”

   “What’s your favorite color for jeans? Oh, and ‘exploring’ gear!!! We gotta get you stuff that’s comfy to move in. Probably a suit, too, but that can wait, so… Underwear for sure. Do you like cloth or leather jackets? I’ll get my card!!!”

   Jason stood up with his meager belongings cradled against his chest, utterly flabbergasted as his pup brother dashed from the room. “You have a credit card?”

   “I have two!!!” Timmy’s beaming face popped back up around the open door. “Well? Are you coming?”

   Three whole hours, five different website stores, and a mysterious amount of money later, Jason gave up trying to catch the price on the screen at the checkout point. Timmy was just too good. “You’re the worst.”

   “I know.” Tim tap-tap-tapped gleefully, then cleared the browser, closed all tabs, and shut the laptop with a hearty sigh. “I bought some surprise stuff, too. Just wait three business days. Except for that one jacket; that has to come from overseas, so probably fourteen. You don’t mind waiting a little, do you?”

   “Of course I… Why would you…” Jason made a frustrated noise, slouching back in the corner of the couch with a grumpy frown. “You shouldn’t have spent your money on me. I told you one outfit was fine.”

   “It’s not even my money; I get it for free s’long as I’m keeping up with my finance studies and bookkeeping and budgeting stuff.” Timmy flopped over into Jason’s space, nuzzling fiercely under his chin with a squeeeeeeeeeeze. “You mean you don’t want me to spoil the first ever sibling I’ve had like ever? I get to buy you stuff!!! This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

   Jason couldn’t help returning the hug, blinking damp eyes at the huge floor-to-ceiling windows in the huge downstairs living room that revealed the huge storm on the horizon, darkening the sunlight an’ rustling the trees. Tim was happy. Tim was really… sincerely happy. Jason could FEEL it, not just in the overwhelming pup-brother-joy rut scent or the way the little alpha rumbled with abandon, but in their bond. Overflowing, exuberant, unrestrained joy.

   Okay, he thought, trying not to cry. Okay. I guess I can let you take care of me.

   “C’mon,” Tim was suddenly saying, tugging on Jason’s wrist as he scrambled off the plush couch. “Let’s go outside.”

   “What?” Jason followed against his better judgement, grinning like an idiot. “It’s about to rain, Tim.”

   “Yeah, but you’re restless.” Tim paused with his hand on the back doorknob, frowning intently at the floor. “How do I know that?”

   Before Jason could think up a suitably snarky answer, he was being manhandled out onto the expansive back patio. He gaped at the sky, floored. It was huge. He’d never seen so many storm clouds at the same time. “Is it bad?”

   “Nah; you can just see more of it up here than in the city,” Tim replied happily, leaning against the patio’s stone wall to give the air a hearty sniffffffffff. “Trying to reach shelter right before the storm breaks is the best part.”

   Jason wrapped his arms around his middle, weirdly excited. “Yeah, outrunning the weather is crazy. There’s no way to get dry again. Once you’re soaked, you’re soaked.”

   Tim gave him a startled glance, guilt flashing across their open bond. “I didn’t mean…”

   “What…? No, no, it’s okay.” Jason puffed out through his teeth. Being so thoroughly seen was… pretty strange. There was an almost uncomfortable lack of privacy now. It was worth it, of course… right?

   He looked back at Timmy, watching the anxious little bounces on the balls of his feet. Yeah. This is super worth it. “I just meant… I get it. There’s something exciting about rain on the air.”

   Tim wrapped Jason in a side hug, squeezing. He was way more forward about his affection today. Maybe that was just the rut, but maybe not. Maybe they were actually building something here. Maybe Jason had a real live little brother.

   “You won’t have to deal with that again,” Tim said stubbornly, his words muffled in the fabric of Jason’s clothes. “You have a whole dryer now. No more soaking wet clothes.”

   Jason grabbed Tim in a bear hug, wrestling him gently from side to side as they stood there. “Okay, Timmy-Tam. Okay.”

   Tim propped his chin against Jason’s chest to look up, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes that echoed with skipping glee over their bond. “Wanna race across the lawn?”

   Obviously, Jason Todd was much faster than some skinny rich kid, even in heat. That tie had barely even counted. He had let Timmy get a head start, so it all canceled out in the end. The omega was the obvious winner.

   He was arguing as much, gently tussling with the silly pup as they tripped and shoved and raced their way inside, when the sound of his name sent shivers down his spine. “Jason Peter Todd.”

   Jason’s spine snapped straight. He wished suddenly that he wasn’t sporting grass stains on his knees, mud on his shoes, and a leaf or two in his hair. Timmy stood next to him, but he was struggling very hard to muffle the last of his giggles, so maybe… Maybe this wasn’t very serious?

   Mrs. Drake looked up from the papers she was flipping through on the other side of the living room, eyebrow raised. “That is your full name, is it not? I know these forms can be rather indecisive about their facts. Goodness, Timothy, what have you been doing?”

   “Walking,” Jason bit out as Tim said “Racing.” They looked at each other for a second. Tim’s eyes welled with tears. He twisted away just before bursting into muffled laughter, squeezing his elbow over his mouth.

   Jason could feel the heat rising in his face. What was even happening right now? “Ma’am?”

   Her mouth relaxed into an almost-smile as she beckoned with one finger. “I have a few quick questions, Jason. Don’t be frightened; they aren’t serious. Only do avoid the rug; it’s Persian.”

   Jason shucked his muddy socks, padding gingerly on damp feet around the edge of the expensive furniture. She didn’t seem too upset about the roughhousing, at least… and Tim couldn’t stop giggling from all the earlier excitement, so they weren’t in trouble, right? (He glanced back anyway to be sure Tim was staying with him. He was.)

   “Here, in my office,” Mrs. Drake said by way of introduction, leading them into a warmly decorated room off the main hall. Jason tried not to gape at the beautiful wood paneling or the shelves filled with what looked like museum-worthy artifacts or the long row of special edition classics sitting just above the back of the desk. The room smelled very strongly of cool-confident-command. Jason’s shoulders inched up as he sat down in one of the chairs facing the desk. They eased up just a little when Tim plopped down right next to him.

   Mrs. Drake typed for a moment on her laptop keyboard, clickety-clacking away with those long nails, and appeared to forget that they were sitting there at first. Jason’s eyes strayed back to the books. Dickens… Austen… Conan Doyle… Was that real gold embossing the bindings, or just pretty threading?

   “Do you like to read, Jason?”

   He jumped sharply, leaning harder into Tim’s side as Mrs. Drake’s voice jarred him from his awed stupor. “M… Ma’am?”

   Mrs. Drake smiled indulgently at him, sweeping one hand at the shelves behind her head. “The books.”

   “Oh.” His face heated. Tim’s hand squeezed his own, so he breathed deeply. “Yes… Yes Ma’am, I do. You have a beautiful collection.”

   “Good, good, very good. You might not have such an awkward start in your first classes, then.” She returned to typing as if she hadn’t just dropped an ear-ringing statement on Jason’s head. “Now… I’m filling out the rest of your paperwork. It will take some time to process, of course, and we might have to stand up in front of a judge if there are any technical difficulties, but checking these boxes should be easy enough. Especially as you are already bonded to a member of the family; usually that part is court-mandated for the health of the orphan--- forgive me, the new family member--- if they haven’t a bond already. What name would you prefer to go by officially? Jason Peter Drake, or Todd-Drake? I understand, of course, if you would rather change your name entirely, but there will be extra steps in the adoption process for that.”

   Jason shut his mouth when he realized that both alphas were staring expectantly in his direction. He knew he should have answered the question. Instead, a pitiful whimper caught in his throat. “Classes… Ma’am?”

   Mrs. Drake gave him her whole attention, pausing to peer over her diamond-studded reading glasses. “Yes, school classes. You have plenty of time to choose the location where you would like to start, of course; you needn’t even register until the fall if you wouldn’t rather, but we will eventually expect you to pick from a more limited range of top options just as we do Timothy. Education is held to a very high standard in this family.”

   Jason’s eyes felt annoyingly hot. When he spoke, his voice sounded small. “I get to go to school?”

   Mrs. Drake just stared at him for a moment, letting him stew in his emotional mortification. Then, turning around, she stood up to browse the shelf of books, leaving Tim to comfort Jason in silence by gently scenting his back. Jason scrubbed at his eyes with his grass-stained sleeve, sniffing valiantly.

   All that effort went to waste as soon as Mrs. Drake crouched before him, a blue book embossed with shining gold placed gently in his lap. “I do hope you like Alice in Wonderland.”

   Jason’s vision blurred. “You--- You can’t give this away. It’ll break up your set.”

   Gently… Slowly… Mrs. Drake’s hand moved to cup his cheek. She didn’t smell commanding anymore. She smelled soft. “Not if you stay yourself.”

   Jason hugged the book to his chest, gasping quick breaths around the sob stuck in his lungs. Maybe it was the heat hormones talking, but Tim’s hand on his back… Janet’s hand on his face… They were almost enough to make this the best day of his life. “Drake. Jason Peter Drake.”

Chapter Text

   It was chilly sunlight on his eyelids that woke him up, but it was the sound of opening drawers that forced him to take a peek. The aforementioned sun pierced into his skull. “Aghk---”

   “Sorry.” A familiar-smelling shadow blocked the sunlight, perching anxiously on the edge of the nest. “Did I wake you up?”

   “Mno.” Tim shuffled into a generally upright position, wrapping his arms around his brother as soon as he was close enough. He smushed his nose against the omega’s collarbone, sighing happily. Jason smelled so GOOD, like home and brother and… nervous…?

   Tim peeled his eyes open, perching his chin on Jason’s chest to look up. He couldn’t see anything identifying from this angle, but Jason’s arms were squeezing around his back, so maybe he didn’t need to tear anyone’s face off. (Whoa, slow down for a second. Maybe think with your head instead of your instincts, Timothy Jackson.) “W’s th’ matter?”

   Jason’s chin thumped down onto Tim’s skull. Tim rumbled reassuringly. He realized that he was kneading Jason’s back through his clothes, but he didn’t stop. Jason liked the pack stuff. Jason needed the pack stuff. (Besides, Tim was his alpha. He needed to fix this.)

   After a patient stretch of silence, Jason pulled away, and their bond flooded with wonder. “It’s my first day of school.”

   Tim blinked rapidly. He had been trying to forget about that. Having to share Jason with the world outside of their front door… even if they would be in all the same classes until spring break, and maybe even after… rubbed all of his instincts the wrong way. He wasn’t in rut anymore, so that had nothing to do with it. Maybe he was just a jealous alpha. (Was that bad? He didn’t wanna be a bad alpha, oh God, he should ask Mom---) “You said you’d been to school before.”

   Jason tugged anxiously at his sleeves, then his jacket, straightening each button. Wow, he was already dressed in his new uniform. His tie was a little messy, and he’d forgotten completely about his hair. He looked small in the jacket, too small; a reminder that years of malnutrition weren’t gonna be corrected over a couple of weeks.

   “Yeah,” he was saying, and Tim pulled his fussing instincts back to the present. “I’ve been to school, but like, only here or there, and only in grade years. I stopped around fourth to take care of Mom.”

   Tim wriggled from the nest, something soft and painful and sparkling in his chest. He wrapped Jason in another hug, a tighter one this time, and tried to feel taller. “Someday I’m gonna be big enough to pick you up.”

   Some of Jason’s nervousness dissolved into a chuckle, a dancing joy across their bond. He nuzzled into the top of Tim’s head, relaxing. Yeah… it helped. The scenting and the hugs and the rumbling that wasn’t loud enough. It all helped. “I know there’s no reason to freak out.”

   “Exactly.” Tim pulled away, grabbing Jason’s clammy hand, and lead them into the bathroom. “Because school is really super boring and easy and you’re gonna be the best in all of your classes. Promise. Up.”

   Jason tipped his chin up without question, glancing at Tim’s reflection in the mirror. “Does it fit?”

   “What, your uniform?” Tim reached around from behind, buttoning two of Jason’s buttons. The jacket hugged his body more snugly now, hiding the fact that it was kinda big on his skinny frame. “It fits perfectly. Now look here; this is how they like you to tie it. Over… under…”

   Jason watched their reflections very carefully as Tim stood on his tiptoes, slowly retying the messy tie. He swallowed against Tim’s hands. Shame washed across their bond. “I might need a few more reminders.”

   I’ll do your tie for you every morning until you go to college, Tim didn’t say, because that would embarrass Jason, probably. He was still getting a hang of these new instincts, the ones that wanted to bury Jason in a pile of blankets and bite him silly and sit on him so he stayed. (He almost rumbled at the thought.) “I don’t mind; we can practice until you get it. Now sit down. Do you want hair gel?”

   “Huh?” Jason stroked his ridiculous bedhead, a slightly wild look flashing across his dark eyes. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

   “Nothing; hold still.” Tim stood next to the toilet, huffing, and ran a new hairbrush through his omega’s hair. “You won’t like the gel, probably; I don’t, but my hair’s longer than yours, so you don’t have to have any. Am I hurting you?”

   Jason’s spine loosened, relaxing against Tim’s stomach. Tim thought he heard a shaky sigh. “No.”

   Humming in self-satisfaction, Tim coaxed out the tangles in Jason’s hair, staying quiet for a while. He used water from the faucet to dampen the hairbrush, making the thick curls easier to work with. By the time he was done, Jason’s messy bedhead had turned into natural waves, healthy and shiny and thick. (He had some bangs that curled into a heart shape over his forehead; that was cute. Not that Tim would be pointing it out. What if Jason decided to cut it?)

   Loathe to stop, Tim slowed, stroking his fingers through Jason’s hair now instead of the hairbrush. Jason was slow-blinking in the mirrors’ reflections, struggling to stay awake. If he hadn’t been leaning against Tim’s back, he probably would have fallen over by now, and Tim’s lungs swelled with unbearable ego. He rumbled happily about it. Jason trusted him.

   “Boys?” Dad’s voice called from downstairs.

   Tim sighed ruefully, cutting the deep scalp massage/scenting session short, and rubbed Jason’s shoulders. He felt better, at least; less grumpy. Jason probably felt better now, too. “Let’s eat something. I don’t like breakfast much, but we’ll be at school for a while, and you gotta keep up your protein intake.”

   Jason fumbled to his feet, yaaaaaawning, and blinked at his reflection. “Whoa.”

   “You look like a Drake,” Tim whispered giddily, muffling a giggle before it could escape.

   Jason’s eyes met his in the mirror with a surprised grin. “We look like BROTHERS.”

   Gosh, Tim’s chest was going to burst. He grabbed their new backpacks, both red, instead of grabbing his packmate like he wanted to do. Geez, he’d been touchy lately. He needed to respect peoples’ personal space. (Just a little bit of squeezing to death, though?) “Here. Yes, it’s packed; you triple checked last night. Lemme get dressed real quick.”

   “Hey, I couldn’t find your scent patches,” Jason called through the door as Tim changed into his pressed uniform. “Are they with your parents?”

   “Huh?” Tim hurriedly combed a bit of gel into his hair before opening the bathroom door. Jason was quadruple checking the contents of his backpack. “Why, what for?”

   Jason gave Tim a blank look, zipping up his bag. “Uh, for public?”

   Tim chewed on the inside of his lower lip. This felt fragile for some reason. He didn’t wanna mess anything up. “Do you WANT some? I think Mom has a couple of pup-friendly patches left over from my last gala.”

   Jason’s eyebrows crept up his hair. “You don’t wear any scent patches?”

   “Not to school. Yeah, it gets smelly sometimes with a buncha presenting teenagers in one place, but it’s a really big school with a lotta different grades. We’ll be in seventh together.” Tim shrugged self-consciously. “Kids’ scents are usually pretty weak anyway, especially when they’re in mixed company, so I guess the board doesn’t really see a reason to mandate patches. I mean, if you’re in heat or rut, obviously, but most people stay home for those anyway.”

   “You’re shitting me. What about clicks or unofficial packs forming between kids?”

   “I mean… yeah, but not…”

   “What about safety?”

   “From the teachers?”

   “From ANYONE, Tim.”

   Tim breathed deeply. Jason wasn’t snapping at him. Jason was just… confused. Maybe a little bit scared. “I’ll get you scent patches, Jason. I’ll even wear some, too.”

   “No, you don’t…” Jason trailed off, flushed. “I just… I don’t understand.”

   Hesitant, Tim took his hand, squeezing. “School is safe, Jason. It’s a building full of kids, not a business meeting. Unless you’re especially hormonal or smelly, there’s no cultural pressure to wear scent patches there, and you don’t gotta worry about the grown-ups. Ba--- Bruce Wayne, Wayne Enterprises, they helped push through a security revamp for Gotham’s schools six years ago. All the teachers are vetted through a three step process, there are special scanners built into all the doors, and the school perimeters are wide enough that if you’re not supposed to be there, it’s easy to spot you before you get to the buildings. There are even security guards for the snobbier private schools, but I wouldn’t choose which one you wanna go to based off of that. I can keep you safe, I promise. Don’t---” (Don’t ask that don’t ask that DON’T ASK---) “Don’t’chu trust me?”

   Jason stared at him for a minute, speechless. Shy affection flooded their bond. He squeezed back. “Yeah… of course. Of course I trust you.”

   Tim tugged them toward the stairs. It was a fragile sort of victory. He wasn’t at all sure that he knew what he was doing. “That doesn’t mean you’ll be weird if you choose to wear ‘em. Lotsa kids are shy that way, especially new ones. I’ll ask Mom.”

   “No.” Jason’s grip became painfully tight. “I… I don’t need them. As long as we’re together.”

   Tim chewed on his lip some more, thinking. When they got to the end of the stairs, he tugged again, pulling them to a halt, and lowered his voice. “I can grab a couple just in case. I won’t tell our parents.”

   The shameful gratitude seeping across their bond said it all. Surprisingly, a lot of things didn’t need words anymore. Sharing emotions was… an especially thrilling method of communication. Tim restrained his Suffocating Hug Impulse for the third time in half an hour, sighing, and lead them to the kitchen table where food--- and smartly dressed parents--- were already waiting.

   Today was gonna be really hard on his stupid baby alpha instincts, wasn’t it?

   Predictably, the older pup seemed to stop worrying so much about his scent the moment they stepped through the front doors of Gotham Academy. Which was understandable, Tim thought. To him it was the same old entrance hall, rows of lockers, and bustling crowds of jabbering students, but to Jason… To Jason, this was a whole new world.

   With this firmly in mind, Tim lead Jason dutifully through the school, naming classrooms and landmarks and explaining how everything worked as he went. Their parents had already gone through every possible enrollment step on their end, of course. Schedules, classes, even locations had been printed out for the two of them ahead of time. Gotham Academy was a self-contained legacy for those who preferred to keep their children under one prestigious school name from grade school to high school, so there was a lot of space to get lost in if you were new, probably. The east wing of the school was for elementary; fifth, sixth, and seventh were on the third floor.

   Unfortunately, the name of Drake came prepared. There wasn’t much for Tim to do but show Jason around as they headed toward their classes. Everything else had been done for them. (Which was obviously completely fine, no need to get competitive over paperwork that he was too young to sign anyway---)

   “We get lockers,” Jason said loudly, speaking up for the first time in ten minutes between Tim’s incessant jabber as they finally landed on their floor.

   Tim forced himself not to glance at the trophy case stocked with historical grade awards as he always did, ignoring the Top Mathlete Dick Grayson trophy that was front an’ center. Instead, he suppressed a wince. “Ah… about that…”

   “This is you,” Jason interrupted gleefully, planting his finger over Tim’s name. He glanced to the right… and the left… and frowned. “I should be here… right? Drake, I said. Is that…?”

   Tim felt like an absolute jerk as Jason turned those big uncertain too-shiny eyes on him. He was looking at Tim to fix it. This already sucked. “Yeah, of course!!! Of course you’re a Drake; the paperwork’s already gone through. It’s just… you were enrolled halfway through the semester. Every alphabetical locker was already assigned. You’ll be at the end… near the Zs.”

   Jason glanced down the long hallway, swallowing. His bond was carefully muted. It prickled at Tim’s every instinct. “Oh.”

   Unsettled, Tim scrubbed his wrist over the back of Jason’s neck, reaching up to do it. “It’s okay, we’ll find it together. You can share mine if you want. I don’t mind.”

   Jason puffed up, slinging his arm around Tim’s shoulders. “No, I’m a big boy; I want my own locker.”

   Tim smiled as they made their way down the row. It felt a little bit fake, like Jason was putting on a show. Like maybe he thought he had to. It also felt a little bit like hope, though. Like a scrape that stopped hurting after you slapped a bandaid over it an’ grabbed an ice pop from the freezer.

   Maybe everything would be okay.

   Everything was NOT okay.

   By the time the end of the school day had rolled around, Tim had learned two very important things. One, Jason was painfully obsessed with his new name. From tracing the label on his locker (after the last name “Zuckerman” at the end of the row) to penning it carefully on the inside of all his new school supplies, it was so obviously on his mind. When he caught Tim looking, he glanced away, shutting his books. He was shy about it.

   This initial fact was silently noted for internal records only. The second fact was perhaps the more egregious--- and shameless. Honestly, Tim was embarrassed by association.

   Jason ASKED for more homework.

   “Jay,” he whispered shrilly when they finally made it out of their stuffy classroom. “You really need to chill.”

   Jason peered at him over a stack of new papers, folders, and fancy pens, frowning. (His face was still flushed--- He had been complimented by a teacher on his way out.) “What are you talking about?”

   Tim sighed faintly. He didn’t wanna embarrass his brother so early on when being new to a fancy school was going to do that already. He’d just teach Jason about the etiquette of getting along with your fellow classmates by not earning everyone more work… later. “C’mon. You can knock some of your homework out in the library if you wanna. Dad won’t be able to pick us up today, but we can take the bus whenever, so we’ve got time to explore.”

   Jason followed happily, uncomplaining of the many steps back down to the first floor. He did stop for a drink at the water fountain, though. Tim held some of his books for him, musing that he should buy Jason a water bottle, a cool one with grippy sides that he could also take with him on their upcoming… explorations. (Maybe Tim could add some red to it? Red was not a good color for blending in with the dark, but Jason liked red.)

   As Tim was lost in thought about this, someone in the crowd of moving students bumped Jason’s backside, making him flail to catch his balance. The water from the water fountain soaked his arm. He shook it out in disgust, turning an irritable snap on the much bigger boy about to melt back into the crowd. “Hey, WATCH it.”

   The literal teenager paused to glance over his shoulder, holding his own in a sea full of jostling people that smaller bodies like theirs were simply unable to do. “Sorry… geez.” His eyes flicked briefly to Tim’s, lighting up in vague recognition. “Drake.”

   “Abernathy,” Tim responded coolly, trying to keep a hold on the slipping armful of books.

   Jason glanced at Tim now, riled annoyance flashing across his bond. The emotion blindsided Tim--- Was this a pack thing, another social cue he was unaware of? Why was Jason suddenly so upset? Wasn’t the bump just an accident? “You KNOW this creep?”

   Abernathy’s expression contorted into a sneer, quick on the uptake. His stiff politeness disappeared completely. “You must be the Drake charity case.”

   Tim slammed into Jason’s chest before the omega could lunge properly, grunting with the force of the impact. Half of the books spilled out of his arms. “Jay… No.”

   Jason leaned back, eyes wide in dismay, and immediately bent to gather the books. “Geez, Tim, did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I don’t…”

   Fight successfully neutralized, Tim turned his attention to the smirking teenager, speaking with every ounce of cold fury he had ever learned from watching Mom. The growl that vibrated from the depths of his bones scared him. “Do not speak to my brother that way.”

   The older alpha stepped back, frozen in speechlessness. Before Tim could double down, Jason yanked on his arm, hauling him away into the crowd. Oh… right. Walking away without a fight.

   “What were you THINKING?” Jason hissed as soon as Abernathy was out of earshot.

   “Me?” Tim whirled on his brother, incensed. Itchy insecurity licked at his heels. He didn’t like that one bit. “I was stopping you, defending you!!! Aren’t you happy with me?”

   The question caught both of them off-guard. Jason’s mouth opened in a silent “O”. Tim’s eyes found his feet in sudden shame. Other students flowed past them like a video stuck at two-times speed.

   “Tim,” Jason finally murmured, and Tim winced--- “that was awesome.”

   Dangerous hope flared in Tim’s chest. He peeked up, suspicious. “Really?”

   “Yeah.” Jason hugged his books tighter, grinning. “I was about to stand up for myself, y’know? Which is stupid, ‘cuz he wasn’t even wrong, and I don’t wanna… sully your family’s reputation… or anything. Throwing hands on my first day would probably be pretty bad.” His blush crept up to his ears just like Tim’s did. “Maybe I got a little overprotective. I’ve never had a sibling before; I dunno what to do with… all of this.”

   “Yeah,” Tim said quietly. He already knew the feeling. (Not that he wasn’t filing away those self-deprecating beliefs to thoroughly dismantle later---)

   “I’m chill with being alone,” Jason confessed a little more softly. “It’s myself an’ I against the world, y’know? I’m not used to anyone else… standing up for me, I guess. That was really, really cool.”

   Tim’s chest swelled. It was probably stupid to suddenly feel so light--- Omega is proud of me!!!--- but he couldn’t help it. He had to distract his brother before they had an actual Moment in the middle of the school day. “Uhm… so here’s the library.”

   A few more steps took them through the arched doorway into a high-ceilinged room filled with books. Tim got ready to point out his favorite isolated napping corner. Instead, he almost stumbled as Jason’s bond flooded with intense, unfiltered, overjoyed AWE.

   “What?” Tim asked nervously, dropping his backpack onto a nearby table. What was he missing here?

   Jason turned on him with huge eyes that almost seemed brighter. “Tim.”

   Tim watched Jason dump his schoolwork, take off, and disappear. He glanced around, trying to see this building from his omega’s point of view. Libraries were free, right? Jason had seen books before. Just… probably not like this. Not including the super cozy reading nooks and the long desks built for quiet study and the tall ornate bookshelves meticulously organized with everything from textbooks for sale to literary classics. Not with a snack room and fogged study rooms and even a corner filled with weirdly shaped chairs for kids with ADHD or learning disorders to play on while they read or listened to books.

   Tim glanced at the extra homework Jason had just asked for--- An in-depth analysis on their current reading AND a whole extra creative writing paper on a separate book from the reading list--- and his throat kinda started to hurt.

   When they left the library an hour later with two extra armfuls of borrowed books plus a special library card for the school’s special collections in Jason’s new name, Tim didn’t even mind.

   “Man,” Jason sighed happily, dumping his armload of books into the nest to sort them into piles. “That was awesome. Are you sure we get to go tomorrow?”

   Tim almost snorted as he wriggled into more comfortable clothing. Valiantly, he restrained. “Yup. Don’t do all your homework too fast or they might bump you up a few more grades. I won’t be able to follow you indefinitely. I may have rich parents on my side, but I don’t think they let ten-year-olds into high school.”

   Jason cocked his head curiously as Tim came out of the bathroom. He held a German For Beginners book in one hand, and for some darn reason, a baking cookbook in the other. “Why’re you dressed like that?”

   Tim tightened his belt with a grin, strapped on the extra thigh bags (good for carrying essential cargo on your person if you had to ditch your backpack), and hid it all beneath an oversized hoodie. Last, but certainly not least, he slid his precious camera case from beneath his bed. “Mom an’ Dad will be out late for a snobby business event.”

   “Yeah,” Jason said slowly, wheels turning. “They told us to head straight home an’ lock up as soon as we got to the bus stop.”

   Tim grinned wickedly, thrilling excitement humming to life between his lungs. “We did what you wanted to do---”

   “School?”

   “Now I’m gonna show you what I wanna do.”

Chapter Text

   “This is one of those things that sounds harmless out loud but feels illegal to actually do, isn’t it?”

   “Illegal?” Tim scoffed rudely, reaching for a fire escape ladder that was juuuuuust out of his reach. He even stood on his tippy-toes. That was adorable. “Since when do you care about illegal?”

   Jason made a face in an effort not to laugh, reaching up past the kiddo’s grasping fingers to tug the ladder down with a clank-clank-clank. “You remember the last time we were chewed out for something like this, right? That was during the day.”

   “This is different,” Tim huffed impatiently, scampering up the ladder like a little mountain goat or something. “I’m not taking you into a bad part of the city for one thing.”

   “Tim, it’s all bad.”

   “Secondly of all, we have rules this time.” The little alpha’s fierce scowl popped over the edge of the roof. “No going into the open, no staying on the ground, and no separating. You gotta play by the rules if you wanna come along. I don’t mind going by myself.”

   “HELL no.” Jason climbed up after his new idiot brother, grunting. His voice was laced with annoyance, but he couldn’t stop the fond exasperation from betraying him over their bond. “You’ll get yourself killed out here. I’m coming with you.”

   The little shit rolled his eyes for some damn reason. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been homeless, so…”

   Jason stared at him with raised eyebrows, affronted. When Tim started to squirm as the uncomfortable silence grew, he reached out to cuff the alpha on the back of the head. “Brat.”

   Tim laughed nervously, rubbing his skull as he crept across the roof. “We need code names or hand signals, too. So we don’t have to talk an’ give ourselves away.”

   “Why not ASL?” Jason found himself thinking longingly of the homework waiting in their nest. “We could learn that at school.”

   “Because some people know ASL, Jason.” Tim tapped the camera case slung around Jason’s neck, excitement mounting across their bond. “Hold onto this with one hand when you jump. Now watch an’ learn.”

   Jason highly doubted that this absolute pipsqueak, who had somehow gotten by on pure luck so far in his adrenaline-junkie-adjacent hobby without bodily harm, could teach him anything of import. He, after all, had had more experience in Gotham’s underbelly than any kid should. He knew how to stay invisible, how to run, and especially how to avoid getting caught. Wasn’t that one of the reasons Janet Drake had picked him in the first place? He was supposed to teach Tim these things. As he watched, however, the tiny alpha slipped into the shadows an’ just… vanished.

   “Tim?” Jason breathed after a solid thirty seconds of waiting, convinced that the pup had gone ahead without him.

   With a muffled WHOOP, the shadows on the opposite side of the roof threw up a tiny four-foot-nothing, ejecting him across a narrow gap between buildings. He landed in a roll, camera case clutched in one hand, and popped up with a bright little grin. He waved Jason over. Your turn now!!!

   Jason smirked boldly, ducking behind an AC unit. He wasn’t as easily unnoticeable as a little ninja, apparently, but he was very practiced in the art of misdirection. He flicked a few pebbles across the roof, mimicking the scuffle of footsteps. When Tim’s attention shifted, Jason broke into a run, dashed behind a small water tower, and leaped across the gap. The jump was a bit too powerful--- He skidded on his landing, then rolled a couple of times to break his fall. He popped up with a “RAH” that made Tim jump.

   “Jay,” the kiddo whisper-screamed, slapping the omega’s shoulder as he tried to muffle his own giggles.

   Jason grinned unrepentantly. “Gotcha.”

   “That’s not how this works---”

   “It is too how it---”

   “What about the element of surprise?”

   “Surprise, I outsmarted you. If I had a gun---” Jason aimed his fingers in the form of a pistol, making a stupid popping noise. “You’d be dead.”

   Tim batted Jason’s finger-gun aside, opening his mouth to make another comment--- and froze. His eyes widened, all mirth dissipated. “They’re almost here.”

   “Wait---” Jason scrambled after him as they ducked behind a roof access. “Who? What are we---”

   Tim slapped his hand over Jason’s mouth. “Shhhhhhh!!!”

   Jason peeled the pup’s hand off, straining his ears. Eventually… he heard it. The soft telltale whisper of a cape. Hushed voices carried on the breeze, overlapping. It sounded like an argument.

   Tim spoke up in the barest of whispers as the noises passed them by. “They’ve been fighting.”

   “Yeah, no shit,” Jason answered lowly, peeking out. The imposing shadow of the Batman looked way less scary than usual with his arm gesturing like that. He perched atop a third story attachment, looking down at the pacing Boy Wonder as they argued. Maybe over the newly added pants to the uniform. He couldn’t hear them from this distance. “Are they always like this?”

   “Sorta.” Tim popped the cover off of his camera lens, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s all part of growing up, I guess. Robin wants more freedom an’ stuff. Batman’s being a dad about it, y’know?”

   No, Jason didn’t say. “Sure. So you just listen to them arguing?”

   “Of course not. C’mon. They always get into something around Fifth… Sometimes Crescent.” Tim grinned like the little gremlin he was. “We’ll follow ‘em.”

   Jason reminded himself that he was here to protect this little troublemaker as he found himself creeping after him. Was the lack of survival instincts an alpha thing or a rich kid thing? Definitely it was an “Ive-never-been-in-truly-life-threatening-situations-in-my-entire-life” thing, because he felt a little bit panicked as he dashed after Tim across the rooftops, and he thought he should have known why. What kind of reaction was one supposed to have to such a little guy risking life an’ limb without so much as a second thought? Hysteria? Tim was living in a very interesting reality that Jason wasn’t sure he wanted to be a part of.

   Yet… then again… Jason was the type to look at shiny golden rims an’ think “Bet; I can boost those.” So maybe he didn’t have that much room to talk.

   “Looks like they’ve got something,” Tim whispered shrilly, crouching in the shadows. His fingers fidgeted restlessly at his camera’s settings without a single glance down. “They’re gonna leap into action once they get all the details from the police scanner. Be ready to catch the cape movement.”

   Jason brought the camera up to his face, scowling through the viewfinder. “It’s too dark.”

   “Here.” Tim’s small fingers shooed Jason’s face away to adjust some kinda setting. “You’ll get a hang of the exposure an’ stuff if you practice, Mr. Homework Is Life. It won’t be hard for you.”

   Jason grinned widely, unsure if that was a jab or a compliment, and peered through the viewfinder again. He could see them now, the still figures framed by fluttering capes. Their hands were pressed to their ears as they stood stock still; they were listening to something. Any second now, according to Tim…

   Jason shifted his camera until the only thing in the viewfinder was his baby alpha packmate. Tim was squinting through his own camera now, fingers pressed expertly into crevices, buttons, and grooves in the metal. His shaggy hair, covered mostly by a dark beanie, skittered restlessly across his pale face, and his shoulders were hunched with the force of his concentration. He looked intent. Professional. Like he really cared about this shit. About the pictures he was taking an’ the heroes that happened to be his subject. About the freedom of sneaking out at night an’ the patience it took him to capture one perfect shot. About… all of it.

   A great love if ever there was one, and he… he was sharing it with Jason.

   Jason clicked at the same time Tim did, then lowered the camera. Tim punched the air as the heroes grappled off, hissing a “Yesssssssssss” full of compressed excitement. His sparkling eyes met Jason’s. “Did you SEE that? If we hurry, maybe we can get some distance shots of the action; I think they’re taking out a trafficking gang tonight.”

   Jason opened his mouth to say something along the lines of HELL yes, but you shouldn’t be watching that shit, when movement just beyond Tim’s shoulder caught his eye. His blood froze in his veins. He recognized that shadow’s pattern. There was another in his peripheral. How had they gotten so close so fast? “C’mon, let’s go.”

   “What?” Tim trotted quickly after him, hopping from rooftop to rooftop. “Wait, what’s the matter?”

   “Nothing,” Jason lied firmly, trying hard to keep the alarm from slinking across their bond. He refused to look at the shadows too closely. He knew that eye contact would only get them bagged faster.

   Sure, maybe these guys were only flanking around to catch Batman from behind as Batman crashed their party, but no way they would pass up some free pickings while they were at it.

   Jason moved faster. So did Tim; so did the shadows. Crap, the trap was already set; they were boxed in and they couldn’t go that way without running into that guy and this way would only get them caught like that---

   “Where is he?” Jason whispered desperately, starting to run. Where was Batman all of a sudden? Falling into the trap they had also stumbled into, most likely. Fuck, but if this were any other night, Jason would have been able to escape. He knew the backways and sideways and narrow alleyways crisscrossing the entire distance to the docks. This wasn’t Crime Alley, but it was familiar. He would have been able to give them the slip.

   Except tonight wasn’t any other night. Because tonight he had Tim with him. Tim who was sprinting to keep up. Tim who was the target of shadows that Jason could no longer see. Tim who was so stupidly small.

   Jason hadn’t been paying attention. Tim was about to pay the price.

   “Back into the chamber turning,” he whispered shrilly, taking a left. Out of roof. Down it was. He had to stay calm. Focus, Todd, focus. “All my soul within me burning---”

   “Jason?”

   “Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.” Jason pulled them right again as they hit ground level, ducking down an alleyway. They still weren’t fast enough. He could see it springing like slow motion. He was walking right into it. They needed to stop but stopping wasn’t an OPTION--- “‘Surely,’ said I, ‘surely that is something at my window lattice; let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore--- Let my heart be still a moment--- and this mystery explore--- ‘tis the wind an’ nothing more.’”

   “Jason,” Tim whispered back, and his fingers wrapped tightly around Jason’s palm. Small… so small. Fierce, so fierce. Untainted by the world outside of those metal gates. Innocent. Young.

   “Jason,” he was whispering, and his voice wavered. “I’m scared.”

   Jason’s grip tightened. He could feel Timmy’s heartbeat in his fingers if he focused hard enough. It was easy to focus with the words in his mouth. It had always been easy.

   He pulled them left again, then took a twisting turn, trying to outwit the bastards, but it was no use--- “But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.” They were too close now. He would have to get--- “Nothing farther than he uttered--- not a feather then he fluttered--- ‘till I scarcely more than muttered ‘Other friends have flown before--- On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’ Then the bird said ‘Nevermore’.”

   Tim had fallen silent now, subdued or maybe unnerved by Jason’s coping mechanism. It didn’t matter anymore, their silence; it was too late, and he couldn’t remember the verses in order now--- “‘Prophet’ said I, ‘thing of evil--- prophet still, if bird or devil--- whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore--- desolate yet all--- undaunted--- on this desert land enchanted---”

   A shadow flinched up ahead. Where was Batman? If Tim could get that far, if he could just--- “On this home by horror haunted--- tell me truly--- I implore---”

   “Wait,” Tim tried desperately, tugging.

   “Is there is there balm in Gilead?” Jason tugged them down a narrow alleyway, a mere gap, and pressed Tim into the first hiding spot he could find. They would find him anyway; they would find both of them, and Tim was too small--- “Tell me tell me I implore.”

   “Wait.” Tim gripped Jason arms with iron ferocity, because YOU’RE MINE, his bond screamed; DON’T LEAVE ME, commanding and terrified and alien all at once, because it didn’t belong to Jason; he couldn’t…

   He couldn’t have them both.

   He lunged quickly, crushing Tim in his arms, and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t explain. Tim didn’t deserve to feel whatever came next. If they lived… if Tim escaped… maybe he would understand. Maybe the pain would be justified if he could fix this one deadly mistake. “Quoth the raven… ‘Nevermore’.”

   Tim gasped sharply as Jason’s mental hold twisted their bond, snapping it in two. The wave of shock sent Jason to his knees, gasping, but he could… he could survive this… he had survived before, and stay with me, Tim, he wanted to scream; I’ll get them away from you, I’ll give you a second chance, but all that made it out of his numb mouth was “Nevermore… nevermore.”

   Tim went limp, staring at him with wide unseeing eyes. Jason checked the pup’s heartbeat, forcing his focus through the roaring pain, the searing cold, and spared a precious two seconds to cup Tim’s face. His thumb swiped saltwater from the alpha’s cheek, terrified pheromones soaking into his skin. Then he wobbled to his feet, burst out of the alleyway’s end, and screamed his pain to the smoggy gray sky. “‘PROPHET’ SAID I, ‘THING OF EVIL!!! PROPHET STILL IF BIRD OR DEVIL!!! BY THAT HEAVEN THAT BENDS ABOVE US; BY THAT GOD WE BOTH ADORE!!! TELL THIS SOUL WITH SORROW LADEN IF, WITHIN THE DISTANT AIDENN, IT SHALL CLASP A SAINTED MAIDEN WHOM THE ANGELS NAME LENORE!!!’”

   It was working, he thought, through the soul-tearing pain of losing the only person he had ever called his own. It was working, the break, the distance, the noise--- They were chasing him now--- and he could get away; he was good at that, at running. He knew how to run.

   He would not outrun them this time.

   “‘CLASP A RARE AND RADIANT MAIDEN,’” he roared, and his throat split, because he thought--- He thought he could still feel Timmy’s tears, and the docks were up ahead, and the trap. He was not going back. (He was so fucking scared.) “‘WHOM THE ANGELS NAME LENORE!!!’ QUOTH THE RAVEN ‘NEVERMORE--- NEVERMORE--- NEVERMORE!!!’”

   The last thing he felt before the shock descended like a net was the great emptiness of alone.

   “I dunno, B, what do you think a screaming kid sounds like? I swear he was right over here, right on our heels. He--- oh geez. I think I found him.”

   He stared at he ground between his feet, shaking. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. The voice meant something important, but it was too late now. It was too late. “Nevermore…”

   “Hey.” Someone crouched down, someone quiet, someone kind, but it wasn’t his brother, and Tim’s eyes welled with fresh tears. His soul clawed desperately at the sucking chasm in his chest, grasping for something, for anything, but there was nothing, because it was nevermore, “Nevermore… nevermore…”

   “Hey, kid; I gotcha,” the voice said, and it wrapped Tim in gentleness that did not belong to him. “Can you tell me your name? What’s goin’ on?”

   “Nevermore…” Tim grabbed yellow fabric in one hand, trying to breathe. The grief caught in his throat. He must have been keening. He had never made this noise before. “Nevermore… nevermore… never…”

   “Yeah, I’ve got him, B. I dunno, he’s in shock. I’m not seeing any injuries. No, no signs of struggle. There are a couple of cameras here, though. Someone dropped one; it’s broken. Shhhhhhhh… I gotcha, kiddo. It’s gonna be okay.”

   NO, Tim wanted to scream, and his eyes strained after the darkness that had swallowed his first ever brother, but all he could see was his own tears. “Nevermore… nevermore…”

   The warmth surrounded his body, holding him. All he could feel as he was carried… all he could hear as they flew through the air… was Jason. Nevermore… nevermore.

Chapter Text

   There were many keys in hand-to-hand combat. Different keys fit different locks, different situations with different stakes. Some keys were skeletons, universally important. Some locks were the same.

   The most universal of them all, unequivocally, was Do Not Turn Your Back. Instant death was only guaranteed if you couldn’t see your enemy, and Jason planned to live.

   He circled by careful inches. Step over step would only disbalance him, so he kept his feet on the ground, tension stretching his arches. Most of his weight rolled through the balls of his feet, light despite the steel-toed boots.

   He was ready to run.

   His opponent narrowed golden brown eyes, watching his every move. She was fast, faster than he, and she would anticipate his every move. She was good. Maybe too good.

   He was prey. If he wanted to win, he needed to become the predator.

   He struck first, lashing out with a red butterfly knife; the only gift he’d received for his sixteenth birthday. She blocked his strike easily, smirking, but he didn’t pause. Followthrough, followthrough, block the hit he knew was coming; snap up under her chin. Ribs, shoulder, hip; whipping back and forth and back with too much pressure. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid getting punched, but a map of scars along his arms had trained his muscle memory well. He avoided her knife with precision, tanking less lethal damage for the chance to get at her blind side; to strike where her scarred eye might miss it coming.

   Facing a half-seeing opponent was not as easy as it looked, pun intended, but every margin counted, and one percent of a slipup on her part could make all the difference.

   “Tu es trop agressif,” she told him, a humorous lilt in her tenor voice. “Plus rapide, plus léger.”

   He snarled at her as he spun, edgy frustration beginning to impede his focus. It wasn’t a dance; they weren’t taking turns. They were trying to shove each other off a metaphorical cliff, and Jason wanted to be king of the hill. “Tu me dis ça depuis que j’ai douze ans.”

   “That---” she swiped at his legs, diving past his flimsy guard, “is because you have not outgrown it.”

   Jason leaped back, cursing, but he didn’t get a chance to find his balance--- She followed him, striking into those openings like a snake. He managed to block two before avoiding a third left him no choice. He rolled onto his back, spinning on his hands, and used his legs to make a sweep at hers. She jumped over him, landed hard on his chest, and drew her knife across the skin of his neck. He froze immediately, panting. He could feel its tug, a cold bite. Warm blood trickled gently toward his collarbone.

   “The State is a tool,” she said lowly, bending close enough that he could see the faint wrinkles in her dark skin. “A gift that keeps you from the weaknesses of pack AND pack sickness alike. ‘Feral’, you Americans call it. Your State has served you well, but you continue to lose control of it. As long as you are a puppet to your anger, you will lose. Someday to someone who does not share my mercy.”

   Jason grinned sharply, pressing up against the blade. “Let me guess. I’ll get myself killed?”

   “Worse.” She stepped off, flicking his blood from her knife. “Claimed. At best you will only become weak, but at worst, you will be enslaved. Do remember that.”

   Jason rolled to his feet, flipping his knife shut, and stalked off the bow deck through the rows of stacked shipping containers. It was a long way back to his private quarters, but the extra walking time gave him a chance to cool down.

   Damn. It always stung worse than a cut, the reminder that he was alone, that he was required to be. The State made you strong; he’d been hearing it for six years, and for six years he had leaned into every jumpy, paranoid, snappish impulse he had until the pack sickness was drowned in syrupy bitterness that thrummed through his veins.

   It was no more than anyone else in this fucking crew was required to be. (Except that Jason was the only omega on board.)

   It had almost gotten him killed, his designation. He remembered shuffling out of a crate, hunkering in front of some younger pups, when they had started poking at him. His grieved omega scent had stirred up some of the potential buyers, earning him jeers, whistles, and even a few unwelcome hands. When someone’s fingers had reached close enough to brush his hair, he had snapped. The man’s arm was broken before he could pull it away. His howl of pain started an all-out brawl.

   Jason couldn’t remember how many men he had fought, but he could remember the taste of blood on his teeth. It wasn’t his.

   “Stop,” a loud voice commanded, rippling through the buyers’ ranks until every man stood perfectly still.

   “Pirates,” they whispered, a ghost on the breeze, and they let Jason fall into the mud of the dock.

   “Scrappy,” the woman hummed quietly, walking through the crowd like Moses through the Red Sea. She stared down her nose in a way that made Jason want to sink right through the concrete.

   He was so fucking cold.

   “I’ll take him,” she finally concluded, turning away to pick out some of the other kids. Errand an’ cabin boys, he later found out. She was hiring for a smuggling crew.

   When she bared her teeth, they gave Jason to her for free.

   “You’re on the coast of the Labrador Sea,” she told him, striding too fast for his weak legs to keep up. “Don’t think of running; I have food.”

   Jason’s sluggishly half-formed escape plans dissolved against the grumbling of his stomach. “You want me as a lover or a fighter?”

   “You, pup,” she said softly, picking him up by his scruff to plop him on a small boat one-handed. “YOU will be my killer.”

   “He won’t survive,” Manon’s captain told her when they climbed aboard a huge cargo ship. Jason could smell his onion breath as he leered. He was ugly. Somehow, he thought, trying not to collapse under the strain of grief pressing down on his lungs, he should have cared less about that. “He’s an unbonded omega an’ you know the rules.”

   Manon rested her hand on Jason’s nape. It should not have been as comforting as it was. Like a numbing blanket of wool draped over all of his pain. “So will he.”

   Jason pressed a towel over the cleaned cut until it was dry. Then he slapped a bandage on before wrapping it in his ragged red desert scarf. It stood out in the shadows, but that wasn’t a problem anymore. Wearing red had taught him to be stealthier than anyone else.

   He was the most skilled hitman in the entire Pèlerin crew, and even the scummy captain knew it.

   “Tout le monde écoute!!!” someone yelled distantly, and Jason’s attention snapped back to the present. He grabbed a waterproof backpack from the hook on the tiny bathroom door--- Already equipped with everything he could possibly need for seventy-two hours of survival on land--- and started heading topside before the ship’s PA system had even turned on.

   “A Crew to the aft mooring deck,” it echoed sharply. “A Crew to the aft mooring deck. Vite.”

   Several sets of narrow metal stairs, four rows of stacked shipping containers, and a slide down a couple sets of railings later, Jason landed on the catwalk surrounding the aft deck. He scanned the small gathering crowd, trying to make out any familiar features in the dusky light of sunset. A shock of white hair--- Ugh, what was Viktor doing here? The swish of a ratty skirt--- The Mouser. She wasn’t always on board, but they had picked her up from Spain last week for a secret assignment. Jason never did hear about the nature of her missions, even in rumors. He glanced away before she could make eye contact. A thigh holster--- No, two of them; Deadeye.

   Jason padded quietly around the catwalk, then vaulted the thin rail when he was close enough, dropping two inches from Deadeye’s ankles.

   “SHIT---” Deadeye spun around, fist flying, but Jason was ready for it; he ducked beneath his friend’s guard, swiping at his feet. That move hadn’t worked on Manon, but Deadeye was one of the only other crewmates from America’s east coast, so his experience--- and his speed--- was even less than Jason’s. He went down, rolling to save his head, and groaned.

   Jason hopped up with a quiet laugh, holding his hand out. “Sorry.”

   “Nah you’re not.” The beta smacked his hand away, lumbering to his feet. He was starting to grow a beard. (Jason wondered if puberty would ever grant him the same privilege.) “I should have seen that comin’.”

   “The day you catch me sneaking up on you is the day I win a shooting match against the ship’s greatest deadshot.”

   “Don’t underestimate yourself.” Deadeye crossed his arms with a sigh, glancing around at the shady figures littering the deck. “Who’s that bastard perched on the winch?”

   “Miles.” Jason mirrored his friend’s body language, sniffing importantly. “He looks pretty fuckin’ normal, doesn’t he?”

   “No one on the A Crew is normal. What’s he do?”

   “Dunno, but Manon didn’t seem too happy to have him on board.”

   “Where did we even pick him up?”

   “That’s the weirdest part of it, dude; he just appeared. Jesus, have you been napping? How’d you miss all’a this?”

   Deadeye sneered at nothing off toward the horizon, avoiding eye contact. “Not all of us are the mate’s favorite, Knave.”

   Jason’s eyebrows twitched. It was true; he knew being favored by Manon had saved him from a much more miserable fate. He still didn’t know what had happened to all of those other kids. He’d been in too much shock at the time to track meaning or focus. He remembered Deadeye being there; the older kid had moved quickly from errand boy to expert shot. He wasn’t fast on his feet, though, and he wasn’t sneaky.

   That was Jason’s job.

   “Sorry,” he muttered lamely.

   “Take your time,” the captain’s voice snapped as the last few A Crew members scampered up the stairs. “I’ve got alllllllll night.”

   Jason straightened as the alpha strolled into view, hands folded behind his back. He didn’t look like a pirate captain--- He was a little overweight, a little drunk, and a little lame. He wore his hair in a ponytail instead of under a cool hat, and he wasn’t missing any body parts. He did limp, though.

   Jason supposed absently that dressing like a pirate probably defeated the purpose of using a commandeered cargo ship, the Pèlerin, as a moving cover for less than legal activities. Killing, for instance.

   Manon would be a better captain, but Manon was stalking quietly in the alpha’s shadow, chin lifted regally as always. She didn’t make eye contact with Jason. She never did when the others were around.

   The captain muttered under his breath for a moment, pacing. Then, speaking louder, he rumbled “We have a double.”

   Collective mutterings stirred up like a hurricane on the surface of the water. Jason sucked in, tasting salty metal. Double booked contracts were always a fuckin’ mess. For one thing, it meant the seller was either stupid or trying to set them up, and for another… damage control. Sometimes the other party backed off. Sometimes the Pèlerin crew had to back off instead. Sometimes…

   “Knave of Hearts,” the captain barked. He swiveled until he caught sight of Jason’s red scarf, pointing. “Prepared as ever, I see.”

   Jason hefted the waterproof backpack over one shoulder. He’d expected something like this. Sometimes they sent him without supplies; the nature of his fix-it missions gave him five minutes’ warning. Max. “Yessir.”

   “In ten minutes, we drop anchor. We have no time to assimilate you to shore; this bastard is three steps ahead of us, and I will not lose to an American agent. Hoffman is ours, do you understand me? You move as fast as possible.”

   Jason’s heartbeat quickened, thumping like the inevitable beneath his ribs. “Sir?”

   “You’ll dive off the starboard bow; from there it’s only a mile to shore. At best I can have a motorcycle waiting for you behind the first bar in town; it’ll have enough gas to get you to Hoffman’s summer home in the countryside. That’s a one-way trip.”

   “Who’s my racer, sir?”

   “After you do your thing an’ run out of gas, you’re on your own; I expect you back at the ship under radio silence before oh-five-hundred on the dot---”

   “Who is the other racer,” Jason said loudly. “Sir?”

   Chilly silence swept across the bow. Jason squared his shoulders in the spiral, holding eye contact, and waited.

   “Deathstroke,” the captain muttered.

   Jason stopped breathing as the word landed like a twenty-pound sledgehammer. “What?”

   “He doesn’t know about the double booking,” the captain said a little too quickly, waving his hand. “You’ll be fine.”

   “Deathstroke always completes his contract, sir,” Deadeye spoke up, edgy anxiety creeping into his flat scent. “If you’re going to send your best man on a suicide mission---”

   “Oh, don’t worry,” Vicktor scoffed loudly, “he isn’t.”

   Miles slunk off of the winch, golden eyes darting silently around the group, and Deadeye stiffened defensively, but Jason’s attention snapped to Manon. Her eyes had flicked to Viktor’s back, attention zoning in like she had spotted a venomous snake.

   Like something was WRONG.

   “Right,” one of the other crewmates was laughing. “I s’ppose the man who lost last week’s games to Knave three times---”

   Viktor snapped an arm out, growling when he missed; his confidence moved like anger. “WATCH yourself, Seam, before I make you eat your words.”

   “You wanna dive off the side of the ship, is that it? You’re jealous of getting to slog a fuckin’ mile through nasty-ass seawater---”

   “À terre,” Manon snapped lowly; her voice reverberated down Jason’s spine. He dropped like a stone, bruising his chin on the deck. Viktor was already moving with a roar, throwing his entire bodyweight at the offending crewmate; the captain jumped back, the new hires disappeared, and the entire meeting erupted into chaos.

   Jason rolled out of the way, sparking instincts yanking at the reins of his sluggish emotions; wild flailing passed right over his head as Viktor thundered by. Manon’s shadow descended after him. A screeching howl echoed off of the shipping containers. When it faded… all was silent.

   Jason leaped to his feet, switchblade out. Deadeye had already drawn both pistols. Various crew were pointing or fingering their own weapons of choice, but it looked like no one needed to bother. Manon was standing over Viktor’s twitching body, one heavy taser sparkling in her hand.

   “Shit,” Deadeye said hollowly.

   “He has crossed the point of no return.” Manon made solemn eye contact with the captain. “I will take care of him.”

   Jason’s heart thundered like a stampede behind his ribs. It wasn’t the initial attack that was getting to him--- These idiot crewmates got into scuffles and arguments and brawls all the time. It was the look in Viktor’s eyes just before he had snapped. Wild… slit-pupiled… empty.

   Everyone on this crew was feral. That was the first rule, the only enforced requirement; survive unbonded, grow tougher because of it. Sometimes, though, sometimes… you didn’t get stronger. Sometimes you crossed that line. Sometimes… you broke.

   “Right.” The captain clapped his hands. “Rápidamente, muchacho; this contract isn’t going to complete itself.”

   Jason shoved his knife into one zippered pocket, cinching the backpack around his waist, and pushed doggedly through the whispering crowd. He avoided eye contact with Manon. He didn’t look at Viktor. He wasn’t here to gawk at an alpha losing his Goddamn mind.

   “Knave…” Deadeye pleaded distantly, reaching.

   “Don’t.” Jason shoved his friend’s hand away, eyes burning. He could sense his own weak scent, already stale and numb and suppressed, bottoming out; his scent glands tightened painfully. “I’ve got a job to do.”

   “Knave, wait; we’re still two miles from anchor---”

   “Tsh… don’t bother.” Jason hopped up to the railing, skipping between fastenings to get further along the starboard side. “I’m a good swimmer.”

   “Oh-five-hundred,” the captain shouted, drowning Deadeye’s exclamation of dismay. Then Jason was flipping, diving, angling for the water feet first---

   The cold ocean was a familiar shock. He didn’t let it carry him down very far before kicking toward the surface, treading water as hard as he could away from the speeding cargo ship… and the razor sharp rudder.

   The murky green danger was almost enough to keep him from imagining a much smaller, younger, slit-pupiled alpha shattering under the feral pressure of being alone.