Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Reconnaissance was necessary, informative, and took priority over just about everything when it came to solving a case. At least, after data collection and analysis, but they were hard pressed for anything concrete when it came to leads. Which is exactly how Batman and Robin found themselves crouched on the roof of a building overlooking a supposed strip club.

“This is so boring,” Robin threw his head back, drawing out the word boring for as long as his breath would allow. His love of reconnaissance was not as unyielding as Batman’s, apparently.

He was 10, so Bruce assumed he couldn’t be faulted too much for lack of patience. He offered a grunt in acknowledgment, but nothing more. His sight was set on the back entrance. There had been only two people who entered through that door, and they both wore earpieces his frequencies couldn’t reach. Someone knew exactly how to shy away from his interference, but other than that, there was no evidence showing that there was foul play. It was as if they were watching a perfectly normal, if not a bit seedy, strip club operate on a slow Wednesday night.

It was also a school night, Bruce thought as his gaze slid back to Robin’s hunched form.

“Let’s call it, chum,” said Bruce.

Robin’s head snapped over to him, his eyes wide and pleading. “No!” He cried, causing Bruce’s eye to twitch. It was more of a shouted whisper than anything, but still unwarranted. “This is my first case you’re letting me help with! Please, I promise it wasn’t that boring, I’m super into it!”

Bruce packed away the schematics for the building he had been studying as Robin continued, his words now more frantic.

“Wait, wait!” Tiny, gloved hands gripped his forearms, stopping him from his work. Bruce waited, the silence stretching on now that Robin successfully interfered. “I can help, please.”

Batman’s cowl turned toward the entrance again, his eyes scanning over the alley once again. Nothing. No movement at all.

“This isn’t about your ability or inability to assist me, Robin,” he surmised, his gaze landing back on the boy in front of him. He perked back up at his codename. “It’s almost midnight, and you need to sleep.”

“Oh.” Robin sat back on his heels, no longer bodily leaning onto Bruce’s arms to hold him in place. “Okay, but you have to promise that you’ll bring me back. We’re partners, ‘kay?”

Bruce felt the corner of his mouth twitch, but he pushed the feeling back. “You’re on a trial period because you won't stop trying to break out.”

Robin shrugged, his grin blinding even with his front tooth still growing in. That one had been particularly fussy, refusing to fall out until he was 9. Alfred had been sure to bring a big bounty from the tooth fairy for that one.

Batman stood, Robin hot on his heels, and they began the trek back to the car, which Robin excitedly named the batmobile his first day of learning Bruce was batman. Children forget things eventually, right? Bruce could only hope so, because the mounting number of things being renamed with the prefix of bat was starting to wear on his sanity.

They had nearly made it to the car when a scream cut through the air. Batman turned to face it immediately, trying to pinpoint its exact location. He couldn’t discern any distressed scents immediately, so he only had his hearing to go off of. Robin froze next to him, clearly unsure of what to do.

It wasn’t Bruce’s first choice to bring Robin directly into a fight on his first official case, but he couldn’t exactly leave him on a random rooftop.

“This way,” Bruce said, grappling onto the building next to them so he could jump towards the scream. He distantly heard Robin following, if after a moment of hesitation.

Another scream had him angling his grapple gun to his left, course correcting to the correct alleyway. It was only a mile or so away from the club, east of their starting point. It didn’t slip Bruce’s mind that this fit nearly every other attack he was looking into, people disappearing in the exact area this scream was coming from.

Batman and Robin stopped on the fire escape above the group of people, five men surrounding a woman from all angles. The scent of distressed omega hit Bruce first, then the overwhelming fumes of angry alpha.

“Stupid bitch,” the man directly in front of the victim was saying. “So fucking loud!” His hand struck flesh, a pained scream coming from the woman as she covered her face.

Batman was down in an instant, his boots making contact with the asphalt hard enough to crack. He brought down the first man with his descent, quickly turning to slam his knuckles into the nose of the next attacker; he went down with a sickening crack of his nose, body going entirely limp in the alley.

“Fuck! How is he here?!” One of them screamed, his hands immediately reaching for his side where Bruce assumed a gun was holstered. A batarang knocked it away as fast as it was drawn, and Batman was on him a moment later.

Distantly, Bruce could tell that the woman was curled with her back pressed up against the alley wall, her quiet whimpers barely reaching his ears. Good. She was out of the way at least, mostly forgotten by the goons in favor of him. Someone managed to hit him in the side with a well timed punch and he growled, pure alpha rage vibrating through his teeth. The man faltered at the sound and Batman knocked him down with a kick, followed by the toss of a micro taser at the fourth man. Finally, with one attacker left, Bruce gripped the front of his jacket, pulling him up within a foot of his face.

“Who do you work for?” Batman growled, his teeth bared.

“N-no one!” the man grabbed his forearm, trying desperately to break free. Bruce pulled him higher, now forcing his feet to dangle. “God, I swear- please!”

Bruce waited, his knuckles white from holding the man up, but he didn’t budge. The man shook, tears finally gathering in his eyes. “P-please, I have a family.”

“You didn’t care if she did,” countered Batman, and tears in the alpha's eyes finally started pouring down his cheeks. They caught in his messy beard as he finally broke.

“Fine!” he cried. “These guys, they say every omega we bring in is five grand, and every beta is two. But I don’t know who they are, I swear to god!” his feet scrambled against Batman's legs as he tried to find purchase. “We just grab them, press this fucking pager and they come pick ‘em up! I swear to fucking god!”

It was difficult to tell if he was being entirely truthful, but Bruce didn’t really think he could get anything else out of the guy. A well aimed punch knocked him unconscious so Bruce could think, and then there were five almost-kidnappers laying around in a Gotham alley. He riffled through the man's pockets until he found the so-called pager, and slipped it into his belt to analyze later.

Robin hopped down from his perch, staring at the fallen attackers with awe. “You have to teach me how you did that- that thing with the batarang!” The boy pulled out zip ties from a pouch at his hip so he could assist Batman with tying the foes up. “I mean, like, I want to punch them too. But the batarang is soooo cool.”

Bruce didn’t bother saying anything to Robin’s rambling, instead dragging all of the men together in a circle, backs to each other. He sent coordinates to Gordon for a cleanup crew, and then set his sight on the woman still cowering in the alley. Robin followed his gaze and promptly shut his mouth with an audible click.

The woman flinched when Bruce kneeled in front of her and laid a hand on her shoulder, her whimpers growing higher in pitch. “You’re safe now,” he said. “Do you want to be here when the police arrive?”

She frantically shook her head, omega pheromones quickly drenching the air around them. Robin covered his nose and backed away, his senses still sensitive from presenting.

“C-can I call someone? Please,” she whispered the last word, sniffling as snot started dripping from her nose. Batman pulled a tissue from one of his many pockets and she accepted it quickly. “My friend, she’ll know what to do.”

After a nod from Batman, the girl fished out her phone and quickly dialed a number.

“Selina? Please come get me, I was attacked-,” incoherent yelling cut through on the other side, and the girl cringed. “No, no, I’m okay. Bat… Batman saved me. Yeah.”

She gave directions on where to go and hung up, her tears finally dried and the tissue sufficiently covered in mucus. “Um. Thank you. She’ll be here soon.”

Batman stood up, knowing he couldn’t be of any help to her now. He motioned for Robin to head out, but the boy perked up at seeing his mentor look at him.

“Be careful out here, miss!” The boy said cheerily, a bright grin accompanying it. She seemed to try smiling back, but it was more of a grimace than anything. Finally, after a hand to his shoulder, Robin shot out his grappling gun to swing up to the rooftop once more, Batman on his tail.

They stayed there for not even five minutes until the hurried footsteps of someone ran into the alley. Another woman, an alpha this time, ran to the girl still hunched over on the ground. She ran her hands over her face and arms, checking her for injuries.

“Holly, I told you not to go out alone like this!” said the alpha, her dark hair flipping into her face as she ranted. “There’s been four girls missing this month alone, fuck, you could’ve been next!”

Bruce decided that was enough; she was safe, and obviously the alpha with her could handle whatever needed to happen next. Four missing women in a month, however? The police had only reported two that month, meaning something was amiss. He made a mental note to bring it up to Gordon the next time they saw each other, but until then, he and Robin finally made it to the batmobile to return home.

Dick was in bed in record time. Whether he was actually asleep or practicing his acrobatics on the posts of his bed frame was none of Bruce’s business, not at one in the morning. He had a pager to dissect, so the worry over his ward’s sleep would have to wait another day. Before he could even begin checking the software, Alfred cleared his throat behind him.

“Master Bruce, do you not believe that this can wait until tomorrow morning?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“You know what I’m going to say to that,” he said, turning back to the task at hand.

After a long sigh, Alfred spun on his heel and promised to make some coffee, however he pointedly said he would refrain from using the nicest brew they had. Petty.

It took, embarrassingly, four hours of hacking to finally break the damn thing. Bruce would like to say it was his sleep deprivation that made it drag out for so long, but the pager was encrypted in a way that anyone not in possession of a supercomputer like the cave possessed would have been shit out of luck.

Really, there wasn’t much to find. No personal information, no phone numbers, nothing. After everything he went through to get any type of data out of it, all he was left with was a link to the manufacturer. It was buried so far in the encryption he almost missed it, but under everything he found the proud manufacturing stamp of an obvious cover company, which after digging a bit deeper he found was a part of none other than Luthor Corp. A quick search showed that Lex never went into pagers, only the standard smart phone.

Fuck. 

That meant he had to bring him into this now. Metropolis wasn’t his city and Luthor wasn’t his usual fight, so he really had no other choice but to contact him. That didn’t mean he wanted to. However, Bruce was a professional. He was Batman. The mission came before everything, even unwarranted, strange feelings towards one's coworker.

But… maybe that could wait until he had a full night's rest first. Alfred would be happy at least.

Chapter Text

The sheet under him was about to rip, he could feel it straining under his knees and up to his fingers, but he couldn’t care less. The absolutely brutal grip on his hips was enough to make him forget about everything, no thoughts entering his brain as he’s taken again, again, again.

“Bruce,” Clark moaned, babbling on about how he feels around him and how he’s more than Clark has ever needed. His mouth is hovering just above Bruce’s nape, his hot breath ghosting over his skin.

All he can do is groan, pushing his hips back into the pounding behind him. He thinks it’s been four orgasms, maybe. Clark shows no sign of stopping, even if Bruce’s body is barely holding up to their mating.

Another thrust had Bruce’s arms finally giving out and his face fell onto the mattress, cheek smashed into the soft cotton sheets.

Clark made an appreciative noise above him and used the new angle to find Bruce’s prostate again, and meanwhile his cock twitches uselessly between his legs.

This wasn’t exactly what Bruce had in mind when he said he would help Clark get back into the field faster, but it was necessary for their continued success. They were so close to competing their League mission, and Clark going through his rut unassisted would have taken days out of Bruce’s meticulous planning. He needed Clark to present and accounted for, and stuck on lockdown for his rut for a week would have been detrimental to the mission.

“Let me help,” he had said, and Clark stared at him like he had gone insane.

“How-,” said Clark, blinking at him for a moment. “How would you help?”

Batman stared back, unphased. They were in the watchtower, thankfully away from the others while they had their discussion.

“Mating. We need your rut to end, and shouldn’t it go away in 24 hours if it’s assisted? Less if it’s with a suitable individual. However, I’m all that’s at your disposal.” Bruce stated, his voice level and betraying no emotion.

Truthfully, he had thought about this far more than he was letting on. It was true that he needed Clark to be available for their mission, but he also wanted to see whether they could be compatible or not. There was no way in which they were, right? They were both alphas, and Clark was presumably interested in omegas. Every alpha was, of course. Bruce wasn’t, but Bruce also dressed as a bat every night.

“That’s true…” Clark mumbled something else that Bruce couldn’t quite hear. “I could hurt you, that’s something we should be worried about.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to control yourself.”

“But- I-, maybe, but what if-”

“If you truly do not wish to mate with me, you don’t have to, Kal.” Bruce conceded, and something flashed in Superman’s eyes that he couldn’t decipher before it was gone again. “You have someone you can ask, correct?”

“No, I-.” Clark looked away, his lips twisting into a pout. He looked back at Bruce with his blue, blue eyes and nodded his head. “Okay, I’ll mate with you. For- um, for the League.”

Bruce’s lips quirked up. “For the League.”

That’s how he found himself face down, thoroughly fucked out, and with a rutting Kryptonian above him taking his fill.

Would Superman ever tire out? Honestly, he should’ve asked more questions, but the smell of him was enough to have his brain short circuiting. Clark’s delicious, overwhelming scent of smokey, ironically earth heavy smells filled Bruce’s nose. He tried to commit it to memory as much as he could, seeing as Clark normally had perfect control of his scent while in costume. Whether that was him or the suit's technology, Bruce had no clue.

Normally the smell of another alpha while mating would cause aggression in any other alpha, but Bruce had always known his taboo attraction to the same sex. Clark was dominating him, so perhaps that was why his body was fine with him mating with another alpha, however the man seemed just as eager to scent him as Bruce was.

When he came a fifth time, he stilled. Clark pressed his nose into the crook of Bruce’s neck, inhaling as much scent directly from his gland as he possibly could.

If Bruce hadn’t been entirely certain that Clark was trying to pursue Lois, he would believe the man actually wanted him. Maybe.

If he was deliberately filling the room with his scent just to have it stick to Clark’s skin for days after, well, no one was there to witness it.

That was weeks ago, and they hadn't had a reason to see each other since then. Meaning the last time he had seen Superman outside of League business had been well… during his rut.

Bruce wasn't an awkward man, and seeing Clark after their shared time together hadn't bothered him in the least. Few things could throw off Bruce Wayne, and a random rut spent with a friend absolutely would not be the thing that did it.

No, seeing Clark didn't make him uncomfortable. However, ever since their night together Clark seemed to take a liking to… touching him. Nothing inappropriate, of course. He was as professional as possible.

“How come he gets to do that?” grumbled Hal, his arms crossed and a pout on his face. “I'd get my hand bit off if I even tried it.”

Clark made a questioning noise, apparently confused as to why his hand on Bruce’s wrist warranted any skepticism. His thumb swiped over Bruce's pulse point and finally retracted, but not without covering both of their hands in each other's scents.

Batman felt his eye twitch, but he did nothing to stop it.

“Did you complete the mission report I requested, Green Lantern?” He asked.

Hal sighed, hanging his head in the process. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Is there any business left to discuss?” Wonder Woman asked.

She was one of the League members who didn't seem to care what going on between the two of them, only offering the input that maybe Clark just needed support from a fellow alpha.

“I need to focus on a case in Gotham, so unless it is an urgent issue, I will be abstaining from League business for the time being.” Bruce stood, clearing any files from the table as he went. “Superman, a word.”

Bruce heard Barry asking, “hey, is ‘supes in trouble?” before he left the room, Superman hot on his tail.

“I need your help,” Bruce said, turning to face a rapidly blushing Superman.

“O-oh! Okay, yeah,” he said, his eyes darting around the space they were in. It was Batman's own personal quarters. Bruce had taken them there out of necessity, he didn't need anyone eavesdropping on any Gotham business. “Um, right now?”

“Yes, our timing is imperative.”

“Right, right.”

Clark was flushed from his ears to his chest and Bruce almost felt the need to ask if he was alright, but he could smell the telltale signs of arousal in his scent. Which was strange, seeing as his cycle had just ended.

“I guess I should take this off?” Clark asked, hesitating as he grabbed the corner of his suit, like he was going to take it off like a madman.

Bruce's heart rate was notorious for being well controlled, even when under extreme duress. He was immensely grateful for that when Superman's navel was exposed.

“Clark,” he said. “Why are you undressing?”

“You want me to stay in the suit?” Clark flushed more, if that was even possible. “I- I guess I expected you to want me exposed for your rut, but I guess I can keep the suit.”

Fucking hell.

“I need your help with a case,” Bruce corrected, voice strained.

“Oh!” Clark smoothed out his suit as fast as possible, superspeed not withstanding. “Haha-, yeah, okay right-, uh, yes.”

Bruce decided for his own sanity to not think about the fact that Clark seemed entirely okay with helping him like that.  

“Robin and I did reconnaissance on the building and a night of activity there, however we were unsuccessful in finding anything suspicious,” he explained, putting on his best mask even though the alpha pheromones were still present in the air. “I believe there are omegas, as well as betas, being taken for nefarious purposes.”

“I see.” Superman’s brows furrowed in concentration. “How do you need my help? This seems like, um, Gotham business. I mean- I don't mind!” He winced at his own words. “I would love to help, but you usually don't want me interfering in Gotham stuff.”

“It's not just Gotham, unfortunately.” Bruce wished it was, honestly.

He hated bringing anyone else into Gotham, even if he trusted the person. After explaining the details of how he got it, he tossed the pager to Clark. He caught it easily, inspecting it the second it was in his hands.

“I tracked it back to a company secretly linked to Luthor corp.”

“What would Lex want with omegas?” Superman asked.

“The business is supposed to be a strip club, however it’s known to have many sex workers contracted inside.” Bruce opened one of the many files he brought with him into the room, one that included the schematics for the building itself. “I believe that there are multiple underground levels due to ground penetrating sonar, however the only official evidence I could find suggests that there’s just one.”

“You think they could be down there,” Clark said.

Batman nodded. “Or being forced into sex work. Either way, they’re unwilling participants in whatever game Luthor is playing.”

Clark was quick to agree to helping Bruce on the case, his concern for the victims abundantly clear. The sooner they figured this out, the better.

“Come to the cave,” said Bruce.

Clark blinked at him.

“So we can discuss the case. I don’t want to zeta up here every time we talk about this.”

“Right.” Clark grinned at him. “I’ll be there.”

Honestly, Bruce still wasn’t entirely certain how to include Superman into the case efficiently. They worked well together on the battlefield, of course. They had for the past few years the League had been operational. However, this was a very delicate matter. One wrong move could halt everything and cause the people in charge to burn all of the evidence, including the victims involved, and Bruce would like to avoid that.

However, he needed Superman’s help, whether he wanted metas in Gotham or not.

“So you want me to go there, look at the ground and… leave?”

“Yes.” Bruce narrowed his eyes at Clark, daring him to complain about reconnaissance. "We need to know what we're working with before we charge in there with no information, like some people I know."

Clark may have been in his full Superman regalia, but even he shied away from Bruce’s full Batman glare. “Got it. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“ Jiffy?” Was whispered somewhere behind the batcomputer, and both Bruce and Clark turned to the sound. “Oh, darn.”

Bruce sighed dramatically, holding out his hand towards the computer. Clark blinked at him, apparently unsure of what to do. “Dick, you can introduce yourself to Superman.”

The boy slowly crawled out of his hiding spot, tip toeing his way over to stand just behind Bruce. It would’ve been charming had it not been irritating that he was listening in on their confidential conversation. Clark had no such hangups, as he immediately brightened. His grin was so wide the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Hello,” he said gently.

“Hi,” Dick mumbled, now fully hiding behind Bruce.

He could feel small hands gripping his shirt and a cheek against his back, rubbing off his faint beta scent onto the soft material. It was a normal child thing to do, he had learned from research. Rubbing off their scent onto their parent as a sort of coping mechanism for anxiety.

“Dick,” Bruce urged, reaching a hand behind him to rub his wrist over Dick’s fluffy hair to scent him. Once he was sufficiently covered in Bruce’s scent, Dick slowly crept out from behind him. His hands were still gripping his shirt, but he was looking at Clark with such awe he could barely contain himself.

Bruce knew that Dick’s favorite hero was Superman, of course. It was kind of hard to miss when your adopted son asks for pajamas of said superhero and refuses to wear anything but them for a month straight. Ironically, he was wearing those exact pajamas at that very moment.

“I like your PJ’s,” Clark remarked, his grin firmly in place.

“Wha-,” Dick must’ve not realized what he was wearing because he spluttered and looked down at himself, his ears beat red with embarrassment. “Um. Thanks, Superman.”

“You’re welcome,” Clark said. “I take it you’re Robin?”

Bruce grunted an affirmative and Dick nodded his head quickly.

“He’s on a trial period-”

“Yes! I’m gonna be the best help ever, I’m gonna solve the case before anyone else!” Dick stated proudly.

Bruce carefully held back a wince. “Trial period. Which will come to an end if I find you eavesdropping again.”

“I promise I won’t, B!” Dick gripped his shirt harder and Bruce was honestly a bit worried for the material. “I just really wanted to-.” He gestured for Bruce to come closer, and after a glance at Clark’s amused face, he crouched down to Dick’s level. The beta cupped his hands around Bruce’s ear as he whispered, “I just really wanted to meet Superman. He’s like, so cool!”

Clark laughed from his spot across from him and Bruce’s lip quirked up.

“He also has superhearing,” Bruce joked, and Dick’s ears were red all over again. He shoved his head into the collar of Bruce’s shirt to hide away from the two of them. The alpha held the back of his head in a soothing gesture. “This one needs to go to bed. Will you report what you find later?”

“Wha?” Clark blinked at him, mouth slightly agape. His jaw shut with a click and he nodded. “Oh, yes, of course. I’ll be in touch!” He knelt down quickly and grabbed Bruce’s free hand, rubbing a thumb over his pulse point again . The shared scents bloomed into the room, and he grinned again. “It was very nice to meet you, Dick.”

Then he was gone, fleeing the scene yet again before he could explain why the hell he kept touching Bruce like that.

“Oh,” Dick said. “So that’s what that smell is.”

Bruce had never sent him to bed so early in the day.

Chapter Text

When Clark returned to the cave, he reported that he honestly couldn’t tell how many floors there were because the place was lined with lead. It was unfortunate, but showed that clearly something was being done that they didn’t want Superman having any part of.

There had been an elevator that stretched from the ground floor to whatever lay below it, but otherwise, Superman was rendered mostly useless in reconnaissance. Bruce promised to look into seeing if he could find any construction permits that were buried and Clark promised to be back in the cave the next day to reconnect with their findings.

In the meantime, Batman went on patrol. He did as much as he could in the cave before he started itching to get out, but his patience paid off. Enough digging showed that there were permits floating around for one level beneath the surface, but that all came around again to yet another company under Luthor.

What he couldn’t figure out was who the perpetrator in Gotham was. Not on paper, at least. He knew that Penguin ran nightclubs in Gotham, but it didn’t make sense. He ran plenty of illegal businesses out of the place, but dealing in sex trafficking seemed like an entirely new direction for him. Falcone was an option as well, but there wasn’t anything tying him to the operation, cover companies or otherwise. Even the Riddler made no sense, as Bruce didn't believe he would prey on lower class omegas to make a point to the wealthy.

For now, at least, Bruce decided to be the watchful eye over the city.

Which is how he ended up finding yet another attempted kidnapping, however this time being taken care of by Catwoman. He wasn’t sure if the victim had already escaped or if she had been fast enough to catch them before they cornered someone, but it was just her and four alphas, three men and a woman. Catwoman was doing pretty well for herself, having brought down two attackers by the time he arrived.

When one of them was able to grab hold of her, Batman found himself ripping the man off of her, allowing her enough time to kick him in the face and knock him to the ground. They made quick work of the final attacker, who mostly tried to run for it instead of fighting back.

“Darling, you know I love to see you,” purred Catwoman, but he could sense an air of frustration in her words. “But I had this handled.”

He didn’t bother replying to that, instead barreling on with the case. “Have you noticed a lot of attacks on omegas lately?”

She straightened up, hands on her hips and her dominating alpha scent flooding the alleyway. “Omegas, betas, sure.” She looked down at one of the men laying on the ground and growled. “Why, Bat, are you taking an interest in what I’m doing nowadays?” Catwoman stalked forward, laying a hand on his shoulder, stroking over his cape with her long claws.

“I’m looking into the disappearances, yes.” He didn’t move away, but he also wasn’t keen on her leaving alpha scent all over his cape. What was with people and rubbing their scent on him? “Are you aware of Lounge ?”

“The club?” Catwoman cocked her head to the side, not unlike, well, a cat. “Should we be talking about this here, Bat?”

Batman hummed, a deep sound that caused her eyes to flick down to his throat. Begrudgingly he slipped an arm around her waist and used his grapple gun to bring them to the nearest rooftop.

She stayed close, and the scent of interested alpha seeped from her neckline. It was intriguing, Bruce had to admit, but then the thought of another alpha caused him to step away.

After Bruce explained his theory about the disappearances, Catwoman conceded. “These attacks happen here, in the east side. The police don’t show up, and even if they do, they turn the other cheek.”

“I have a connection.” Not a lie, he had Gordon. But the commissioner could only do so much if half of his force was bought out by the people interested in lining their pockets. It had to be a top down bust, because there was no way that just taking out a few rotten police would have any effect.

“Oh, I believe you,” she purred, one sharp claw dragging down the kevlar of his forearm. “But that’s not me. I don’t do police.”

Also not a lie. Bruce wasn’t aware of Catwoman’s secret identity, but he had an idea of her background in the industry and an on and off again criminal history. He decided to put effort into finding out more the next time he was in the cave.

“I’ll shut it down,” Batman promised, and Catwoman’s lips curled into a grin.

“I won’t get near that club, but you did me a favor. Helped one of my girls,” she sighed, finally pulling her hand away. “I can watch around here, try to make sure no one else is snatched up.”

Batman grunted his appreciation. 

Someone on the ground level so he could focus on the bigger obstacles would be a huge advantage. Before she could rub more of her scent into his suit, he took off towards the batmobile .

**

“Can I ask you something?”

Lois glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

Clark set his laptop down on his coffee table, angling his body towards hers. They spent so much time at his place either writing articles or watching TV that it wasn’t unlike them to take an impromptu break to just talk. They’d spent about four hours in research hell, so it seemed like an opportune moment.

“Is it normal to want to, um,” he cleared his throat, tilting his head like that would help him choke out the words better. “Scent people?”

“Huh.” Lois set down her own laptop, pulling her legs onto the couch to face him fully. Her knees were nearly touching his, and her scent turned sweet, tickling the inside of Clark’s nose in a strange way. “In what way?”

Clark’s cheeks go pink. He hadn’t really put any thought into it until he heard Dick say so that’s what that smell is . He shouldn’t have overheard it, of course, but he was so in tuned to both of their heartbeats he couldn’t help it.

“Just, random touching I guess?” Clark looked down at his hands. “I don’t realize it, but I just want to, y’know? I want someone to smell like me.” He doesn’t mention his someone is a certain Bat.

Lois seemed to ponder on the thought for a moment before she smiled at him, her cheeks tinted pink as well. He couldn’t figure out why she was embarrassed, but maybe it was a taboo topic to her as well. “Well, I’m not sure if it’s different for your body,” she said, her left arm draping over the back cushions of the couch to be able to drag her fingertips across his shoulder. “But it’s like a sign of being very… comfortable with someone.”

Clark nodded, finally feeling the flush in his cheeks go away. He could sense her omegan pheromones filling the room and he felt his nose twitch. “I did some research at the fortress, but as far as I can tell, Kryptonians were very open with scenting.”

Lois smiled at him, her fingers dipping into the collar of his shirt. He grabbed her hand from its spot and held it carefully in his own. He wasn’t sure if she just needed some physical connection, but he was more than happy to supply that for his friend.

“That’s great, Smallville.” She squeezed his hand, dragging her wrist on the tips of his fingers. “If you want to scent someone, as long as you’re comfortable with them, I think it’s great. Fine. Good, even. You know, it’ll show someone that you care about them.”

Clark was nodding along as she spoke, thinking of how he was going to scent Bruce next. He hoped that they were still meeting that night, because he loathed the thought of not seeing him. After their shared night together he wasn’t… attached, per say, but he did find himself wanting to be in Bruce’s presence more often than not.

“Thanks, Lois. You’re the best.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. She really was his best friend in Metropolis, someone he could easily depend on. Her scent was light and airy and he could feel it stick to his own, but he didn’t mind too much. She sighed, and he squeezed her hand a final time before grabbing his laptop again. 

**

“Catwoman offered to help?” asked Clark, somewhat bewildered.

“Yes.” Bruce wasn’t looking at him. He had nearly forty tabs open on the computer looking into Catwoman’s secret identity, and it only took another minute or two before he pulled up the criminal record of Selina Kyle. “She has a personal stake in this. Her roommate is the omega that Robin and I found.”

“Geez…” Clark mumbled something under his breath and Bruce turned to raise a questioning brow at him. “Uh - just impressed, I guess. You found out her identity so quickly.”

Bruce grunted. He wasn’t sure why that was impressive from a man who could see through disguises. “I had a hunch."

“So, when do we take down the bad guy?” asked Dick, his legs swinging from the chair he was sitting on. Bruce specifically brought another chair into the cave for him, which was pushed up to the side of the desk where the batcomputer was. Dick was renaming everything, of course.

Clark had his hip propped up against the desk, watching what Bruce was doing with his arms crossed over the El insignia on his chest. He smiled at Dick upon hearing his question. “Soon, hopefully.”

“Seeing as we don’t know how many levels there are, we can’t go in there blind. We have to assume they have at least some amount of kryptonite if Luthor is involved.” Bruce pulled up the schematics of the club and pointed to an odd spot that didn’t really have a reason to be there. “I believe this is where the elevator is. I would like to have eyes on it before we have to go inside, but even if I can’t, I think I can at least get some information from patrons there.”

“Wait, wait.” Clark held up his palms. “You’re going inside? When?”

Bruce meant to respond, but his mouth snapped shut a second later. With Clark’s wrists held up in front of him, he received a whiff of omegan pheromones. It startled him because they were in their own world down in the cave, no scents besides their own and what he believed to be the remnants of Selina rubbing herself on him. It was an abrupt reminder of Clark’s life outside of this case, but he barrelled on. No need to get caught off guard by the man’s most recent conquest. He could deal with that downward spiral later (not that there would be one, of course).

“Yes,” replied Bruce, “it’s not going to be a stretch seeing as I have a good enough excuse as anyone to be in attendance.”

Brucie Wayne didn’t need a reason to be in a club, he could have just decided to skip out on any company meeting to be there. It wasn’t his normal spot, but that wouldn’t raise any questions past who he would be going home with.

“I wanna come!” Dick scrambled up higher in his chair. Bruce scrubbed a hand through his hair, effectively ruining whatever style it was in before. That was a more resolute no than anything else. The boy pouted, now coated in scent. “Pleeeeease!”

“Uh… not sure you can go in there, bud.” Clark grimaced. “But I can-"

“No,” interrupted Bruce. “But I will add you to our coms and you can remain outside as backup. A last resort, obviously. We don’t need to tip anyone off.”

Clark fidgeted for a moment, as if he was momentarily disappointed with the news. His gaze is locked on Bruce’s hands. “Sure. Thank you. But,” he paused, reaching out to brush his wrist down Bruce’s forearm to grab his hand. A trail of alpha pheromones are left on his sleeve and Bruce could feel his own seeping out to respond to another alpha. He could feel Selina’s scent all but brush away at Clark’s touch. “You will call for backup if you need it, right?”

“If I find it necessary,” he said. “I’m going to speak with Alfred about having you on coms.”

Lame excuse aside, he actually did need to go over the plans with Alfred so they’re all in agreement. Clark is able to swipe a finger over his pulse point once more before he excuses himself officially, leaving the two down in the cave.

**

“Soooo,” Dick drawled, breaking the silence between the two of them. He was wearing his usual Superman pajamas, which warmed Clark’s heart immensely. “Why do you do that?”

“What do you mean?” asked Clark.

“Y’know, like, touch B like that.” Dick rocked back and forth on the chair, his childlike mannerisms coming out tenfold now that Bruce wasn’t there.

“I don’t-”

“‘Cause B always comes home from being with the Justice League and he always smelled weird, but I thought that that just happened sometimes,” Dick rambled, now spinning his computer chair in circles as he spoke. “But now I know that smell is you, and that’s cool and all, ‘cause you’re Superman.

“But he doesn’t smell like anyone else, so then it’s just you. Not that you stink or anything. But, he barely even smells like me and he scents me all of the time. But you’re, like, all over him. Why?” Dick took in a deep breath, then smiled up at Clark with his mismatched teeth and crooked grin.

It wasn’t like he could just ignore the question, but honestly, Clark wasn’t sure how to go about answering. He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to even talk about scent marking between adults with a child this young, but again, he couldn’t escape the fact that he was caught in the act.

“Well,” said Clark, at a loss for words. “I admire Bruce a lot.” It felt kind of strange talking down at Dick the way he was, so he squatted down to be able to make proper eye contact with him. Dick continued with his normal swaying back and forth now that he couldn’t spin without breaking that eye contact. “He’s a wonderful teammate. I feel very comfortable with him, and when he smells like me.”

Dick wrinkled his nose. “Do I have to scent my teammates when I’m in a group?”

Clark grimaced. This was rapidly falling out of his control and he wished desperately for Bruce to return and put him out of his misery. “No, no. Only if you want to.”

“And you want to?” Dick wrinkled his nose in thought. “With B?”

“Um,” Clark hesitated. He thought back to his conversation with Lois and found it unnecessary to delve deeper. “I guess so. I don’t really notice that I do it all that often, but I suppose I do.”

Dick grinned at him, the expression on his face entirely too conspiratorial to make Clark comfortable. Something about that look told him this conversation was nowhere near as innocent as he originally found it to be. He felt himself shy away from the boy in front of him, all hulking mass of Superman intimidated by the tiny 10 year old beaming at him.

“Okay!” He clapped his hands together. “You gotta keep doing it, ‘cause if you stop now then B is gonna think I told you to stop. ‘Kay?”

“Oh, uh.” Clark needed the conversation to end and quickly, so if appeasing Dick was what it took to get there, he’d do it. “Okay, got it.”

Should he have been more worried when Dick looked entirely too pleased with himself after that? Clark’s not sure. But Bruce entered the cave around that time anyway, so he didn’t have any time to overthink what just happened. Thankfully, his scent was still clinging to Bruce’s skin and the foreign scent from before was gone. Maybe he could somehow sneak his scent onto Bruce before he went to the club, if not for any reason other than calming down the nagging voice inside his head telling him to do so.

Chapter Text

“For the record, I’m still not a big fan of this plan,” said Clark, his voice small and uncertain over the com system in his inner ear.

“Dully noted,” Bruce replied smoothly.

Bruce was effortlessly making his way into the club, a bright lopsided grin on his face as the bouncer let him in without so much as a blink. His first stop was the bar to grab a drink, the cup already sweating in his hand as he walked the layout.

“I feel useless,” Clark was whining.

Whining, which was ridiculous for Superman, and Bruce did everything possible not to pinch his nose in frustration. Instead, he brushed past a gawking beta, rubbing off his scent onto her arm as he passed. She blushed bright crimson and he flashed a smile, only to continue on his mission.

“You need to be paying attention.”

“I am, but it’s hard listening in on everything when the music is so loud.”

There was a frustrated sigh and Bruce could do nothing but grunt in reply.

The music was unnecessarily loud, he could agree. It was a club so he couldn’t expect much else, but it was making it hard to eavesdrop in on any conversations himself. Next to the bar on the far wall was the entrance to the bathrooms, and across from that was an array of booths, chairs, tables, and other seating for guests watching the dancers. The place was packed, to put it lightly. Nearly every seat was taken, but he could manage.

Gaudy statues took up random corners of the room, and the private areas off to the side seemed normal enough. Flimsy curtains to separate dances from each other, but otherwise not good for covering anything suspicious from prying eyes.

They were trying to find anything to help solve what exactly was going on, especially since there was no way to get into the bottom floors unless Bruce were to hack into the elevator. That didn’t exactly seem feasible as a first time visit to the club, but he had a feeling it would be next on the to-do list.

One of the dancers was prowling the floor, and Bruce took it as an opportunity. He flashed a hundred and she walked right over, delicately placing her hands on his chest. He could smell an almost chemical scent radiating from her wrists, and he filed that away for later. Otherwise, she seemed normal. No dilated pupils, no extreme scent of alcohol, and no signs of any drug use.

“I haven’t seen such a big, strong alpha in here in years,” she purred.

Bruce dragged his thumb over her wrist, eliciting more of that chemical smell. His face remained in its signature Brucie smile, but he was fighting hard not to move away. It was nearly overwhelming at this point, but he couldn’t tell if that was just the scent of omega that he was repulsed by or the way it seemed to forcibly pour from her glands.

“I wouldn’t call myself that,” said Bruce. “Irresponsible, fragile, and unreliable? Sure.”

She responded with something, but Bruce wasn’t listening anymore. His gaze drifted behind her, finding two men talking to each other in hushed tones. They rushed off to presumably where the elevator would be (barring he was correct in his assumptions), and Bruce was eager to rush after them. He knew that speaking to her would be helpful, but finding exactly where this elevator was seemed to take priority. And he was excited to get away from her scent, if he was being honest. After pressing a couple of hundreds into the dancer's hand, he excused himself to lazily make his way over.

“They got in the elevator, I can’t see them anymore.”

Bruce already assumed so, but it was nice that Clark could make that clear immediately.

There didn't seem to be any security near where the elevator was situated, but he couldn’t say the same of any hidden cameras. There had to be some, at least. He filed that information away as well, in preparation for when he needed to break in. That wasn’t his objective currently, at least.

“Anyone around?” whispered Bruce.

“Not that I can see,” was Clark’s response.

He leaned closer to the wall, a far off corner of the club close to the dance stage but just out of view. The music pounded in his ears, loud and incessant, and the multitudes of scents were assaulting his senses. He crouched closer to the wall to try to get a better look, now running his fingers along the smooth surface to find any imperfections.

A slight ridge made him halt, his fingers exploring up the subtle line in the wall.

“There's chemical residue,” Bruce said.

“Near the elevator?” Clark asked, and Bruce could almost imagine the way his nose was crinkling in confusion.

“Yes,” he kept his fingers away from the faint staining, unsure of its components, “this is sloppy work. If Luthor was in charge of this entire project, there wouldn't be any mistakes like this.”

“Someone's coming.”

Bruce snuck away before the scout, or scientist, he supposed, could find him there. He rejoined the main floor while another dancer was performing, the few patrons entirely drawn into the performance.

“Mr. Wayne,” someone said behind him, “a pleasure to find you here.”

He spun around, faking a slight stumble as he did so. A wide grin was plastered on his face at the man in front of him. He wore a long sleeve shirt and dark wash jeans, but his gaudy watch and jewelry choice spoke to the value he placed on material possessions. Bruce's eyes flicked over the man before he spoke.

“A real pleasure for me! Such beautiful omegas, I can hardly contain myself!” he laughed heartily and heard a distant geez from the comm in his ear. “And you are?”

“Marco, sir. I'm very happy to hear that,” Marco said, his eyes crinkling into crows feet. “If you would like, I would be delighted to offer you a room with one who's particularly… mad, so we say.”

Bruce felt his shoulders square up involuntarily, and hoped that the man took that as an interested alpha and not a pissed vigilante. “Mad, you say? I'm here for a good time, you know.”

Marco smiled at him, a little too much teeth to feel entirely comfortable. “I can assure you, it will be worth it. Come find me when you feel the need, Mr. Wayne.”

With that he left, Bruce watching his receding figure.

“Bruce, I don't like the sound of that,” Clark sounded genuinely worried, “maybe enough is enough? You can always go back.”

“No, no,” he hummed, the gravely sound almost like a growl in his throat. “I need to see what he was talking about.” Bruce’s eyes flicked around the bar, trying to pick out the dancer’s smells from the patrons. “Something’s wrong with the omegas here, they smell… wrong.”

“What do you mean?” asked Clark, puzzled.

“It’s like their body is forcing out their scent,” Bruce explained. “It’s… a lot to take in at once.”

He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to explain how he didn’t normally find omegas pleasant to smell. Too strong, too invasive, always asking for too much. An omega was a whirlwind of scent that he couldn’t deal with on a good day, and with the way this new scent was curling in his nose and making him almost ill, he wasn’t sure how to explain it without invoking questions he wasn’t willing to answer.

“Bruce, maybe you should get out of there–”

“Shh.” Bruce shushed him, intent on finding the man again before it was too late. If he was searching the place for clues on the way, so be it.

He was minutes into his search when Clark piped up again and Bruce seriously considered breaking his comm. “Bruce, you need to get out of there,” he said, urgency in his voice, “they’re talking about you, saying they need to take care of you.”

“Take care in the good way or the bad way?” Bruce muttered, his gaze flicking around to find any suspicious behavior.

“Dealers choice?”

“I’ll take those odds,” mumbled Bruce, confidently striding over to where he saw the man head off to before. Low and behold, Marco was just past the bar, near the areas for private dances.

“Bruce, I'm serious–”

“Mr. Wayne!” Marco corrected his posture, his arms held out at his sides in an open gesture, “you've come to make good on my deal?”

“Of course,” he replied, a token Brucie grin firmly planted on his face. He could hear Clark in his ear saying that he was being stubborn, but he refused to let this opportunity pass him by.

They walked past the stage and down a corridor off to the right, the chemical smell of omega tickling his nose again. It was so pungent in the air, a thick mass of smells making him feel dizzy. He soldiered on, sure to memorize the hallways they walked down and taking note of the distant exit sign at the end of the hall. He could distantly sense other alphas as well, presumably those in the rooms with the omegas.

Marco used a key to unlock one of the room doors, holding it open for Bruce to pass into. It seemed normal enough, a side table with lube and condoms laid out, some random framed art pieces on the wall and a queen sized bed in the middle. Unsurprisingly, an omega writhed in the middle, a pained expression etched into his face.

Bruce could see the moment his scent crossed the room and the omega could smell the heady pheromones of fertile alpha. He scrambled to get up, but only a moment of being upright and he was back down again, his arms useless when it came to supporting his weight.

It took immense effort not to double over at the horrific smell emanating from the man, but he felt like he could do it. He could grab a sample, try to talk to the omega, and be on his way after enough time elapsed that it didn't seem suspicious. It was a great plan, perfect execution in mind, but that went out the windows the second he heard Marco speak again.

“You think the media is gonna go crazy over a feral Brucie Wayne killing an omega?” Marco asked, obviously not looking for an answer from Bruce. When Bruce whirled around to look at him, a man now stood alongside him, glasses perched on his nose and a clipboard in hand.

Bruce was helpless to do anything when the door slammed shut in his face, lock engaging from the outside. There was no way to pick it from inside, not with his senses starting to blur from the scent surrounding him.

“It's okay Bruce, just hang on and I'll come get you now,” Clark promised, vague rustling in the background which must've been him moving from his surveillance spot.

“Don't blow your cover,” spat Bruce, irritation rising in his throat, “I'll be fine. An omega in heat isn't going to do much to me.”

Bruce could hear Clark starting to ask why exactly he thought that, and then he heard a thunk behind him and turned to see a canister dropped into the room just before it started spewing out gas.

“Fuck!” Bruce ripped off his suit jacket, bundling it over his nose to filter out as much as he could.

The scent of aggressive, irritated alpha filled the room. It was the smell of a challenge, a fight, and it stunk the air so heavily Bruce felt his eyes water. There was something about the gas that definitely wasn't just pheromones. It smelled wrong, sulfuric and awful. The omega on the bed was whimpering, tears pouring down his face as he tried to escape the smell. As the gas started to clear so he could see, Bruce brought the jacket over to the omega so he could cover his face as well.

“Who did this to you?” asked Bruce, his voice deeper than he meant for it to be. It was dangerously close to Batman. “How? Why do you smell like that?”

The man stared at him with bleary eyes, his heartbeat accelerating under Bruce's touch. He couldn't seem to form any words, and in a moment his eyes seemed to glaze over into completely unseeing, presumably falling into another wave of heat. Whether the new scent in the air caused that as well, he wasn't sure.

“Shit, shit.”

“Bruce, you have to get out of there. If you don't want me going in, get out.”

“Easier said than done,” grumbled Bruce, pulling a syringe from a lined pocket in his pants and skillfully taking a blood sample from the omega. He capped it as quickly as he could, tucking it away for later. Next was his escape mission, or just moving away from the bed to stand. It was unsuccessful as the moment he pushed off from the side of the bed he fell, his knees giving way. He cursed, and tried again, this time making his way to a standing position with half his body against the wall.

The scent of alpha was burning in his lungs, and he assumed the smell they were using was supposed to elicit a violent response in any other alpha. It was a challenge. The omega in the room was supposed to either be someone else's property to him, or the gas was supposed to make him so delirious that he was to believe him to be the challenge. Either way, this was meant to have him killing an omega.

Presumably, if he wanted to get out of that, he would have to drop whatever case he was building against them since they would have ample blackmail. It was a fairly solid plan, he gave them credit, if only alpha pheromones worked that way on him. Presently he could feel an ache building inside of him, almost as if he was going into the beginning stages of a rut. Except… too hot. Way too hot, he felt like he was burning.

“Kal,” Bruce wavered, “I– there's no lock to pick.”

“You're kidding me, right?” He could imagine if the situation wasn't as dire as it was, Clark would be laughing at him. “It's just a door.”

Bruce grumbled something under his breath even he knew was unkind, but he pushed off the wall as best he could to ready himself for what came next. He felt faint for a moment but if anyone knew their body, it was him. He had about three minutes of consciousness based on his current symptoms, however that wasn't taking into account if he kept deteriorating.

It wouldn't help to keep thinking, so he kicked out his foot with all the strength he had and broke the lock, his body careening to the floor when the door gave way. 

“The hell was that?” Was said down the hall, closer to the staging area.

Bruce clawed his way up the wall, a low growl starting in his throat at the thought of other people. His body was failing fast and he needed to move, dammit.

“Kal,” he grit out, saliva pooling in his mouth, his gums aching with the need to claim. Alarmingly, he felt the need to be claimed. He swallowed down the heady alpha pheromones and pressed on, using the wall to half hold his body up.

“Keep walking down that hall,” instructed Clark, “take a left at the end and you should end up in the alley. There are two people gaining on you now.”

“Got it.”

Bruce did not feel like he, in fact, got it. His heartbeat was inching higher than he was used to, sweat beading at his forehead. He was panting with the effort of just getting down the hall, but Clark was right, there were two men, probably the same two, now coming up behind him.

“Almost there, Bruce, you're almost out,” Clark was saying, a gentle mantra in his head.

“Fucking get him!” There were more now, he could tell. Probably four or five of them, all alphas and all coming up behind him. He had no idea how fast he was even moving, everything was beginning to blur together.

He's not sure if Clark opened the door from the outside or if he somehow shouldered his way through the exit, but next thing he knew, he was collapsing in the alley. Clark caught him, of course, and spend no time hauling Bruce into his arms and taking off towards the manor with him safely tucked against his chest. Hopefully, they weren't sloppy enough to have Superman spotted at the scene, but that was something to deal with later.

“Geez, Bruce. You scared me for a second there, y’know?” Clark was rambling, his hair blowing back in the breeze. His grip tightened a bit on Bruce's body but he could hardly tell. The air was calming him down a bit, but the achy feeling in his body was only growing, the scent of Clark causing his body to all but go limp. “Are you okay? I heard the gas, was it a chemical?”

“Dunno,” answered Bruce, “it feels… wrong.”

The aching sensation in his body was spreading through his limbs, sapping him of any strength. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only issue. The Kryptonian pheromones flooding his senses wasn't helping anything, and whatever strange rut was induced was beginning to rear it's ugly head. His cock was hard and straining against his suit pants. Bruce wasn't embarrassed, necessarily. This was a man he had already mated with, it's not like this isn't anything Clark's seen before. But that didn't make it any less uncomfortable.

“Alfred,” Clark said, “I'm bringing Bruce back. There's been an… incident?”

“Is that a question, sir?” came Alfred's reply. “Is he hurt, Master Clark?”

“No, no!” Clark rushed to say, causing Bruce to flinch away from him. He apologized and continued, “Bruce got a face full of some kind of gas, probably some type of cycle inducer? He smells… strange.”

Bruce tried to tune them out, his breath coming out labored again. Which in turn brought lungfuls of alpha into his system. His body was getting hotter, hotter, hotter. It didn’t feel like a normal rut at all, where he felt the need to dominate and mate with someone. Breed, take, claim. This was something else entirely. Need, mate, close. A reaction to the alpha pheromones, the chemical, or the panic? He wasn’t sure.

It was all becoming a little too overwhelming. He shoved his face in Clark’s neck, closer to the alpha scent there, and tried to steady his heart.

“You’re okay,” Clark reassured, “we’re here, Alfred can fix it, you’re okay.”

They touched down in the cave finally, the scent of home settling a voice in the back of his mind that he didn’t realize was screaming until now. Alfred was at his side immediately, ushering Clark to lay him down on an examination bed.

“Pocket,” Bruce said between breaths, eyes squeezed shut. “I got a sample– it’s in my pocket.”

“I’m pleased to know that when faced with your own mortality, you are stubbornly adhering to your mission, Master Bruce.” He could almost feel Alfred’s raised eyebrow even with his eyes closed. “I will have it thoroughly examined, of course.”

Bruce tried opening his eyes, and Alfred was kind enough to push the light away from him as he did so. He blinked a few times, his vision still blurred around the edges, but he was met with both Clark and Alfred’s concerned faces. Alfred was a lot better at concealing it, but Bruce knew the worry in his eyes the second he saw him.

“I’m fine,” he grit out, “it’ll pass. I just need time.”

Clark hesitated for a moment, but nodded his head after Bruce glared at him. “Okay, okay. We can go over everything we found later.”

With that, he nodded again and moved away so he could take off, presumably back to Metropolis. At the sight of this, Bruce’s heart renewed it’s frantic beating, pain flaring in his chest at the sheer force of it. “Wait,” he groaned, leaning over the bed and almost falling off in his attempt to stop Clark. His hand grabbed onto Clark’s wrist in a death grip. “Shit, hold on.”

After their touch was reestablished his heart calmed back to it’s normal rhythm. From the look on Clark’s face he could clearly hear it.

“Perhaps it’s best if you stayed the night, Master Clark,” said Alfred. His hand was firm on Bruce’s shoulder, holding the alpha back from falling off the side of the bed. “I’ll set a room for you. Master Bruce,” he spoke louder now, almost like he wanted to project his voice through the cave. “If you are willing, I believe someone wishes to be in your presence.”

Bruce sighed, but he felt the corner of his lips quirk up in amusement. “I told you not to eavesdrop anymore, chum.”

Dick poked his head out from behind the training equipment they kept in the cave, his hands wrapped up as if he were just on the rings. “Technically, I didn’t plan this. You guys came in while I was training, so…” The boy stood in the middle of the room, moving his weight from one foot to the other as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“You just happened to be training at midnight when you knew we would be out for the case?” he asked, and Dick's shoulders raised up to his ears, a deep flush on his cheeks.

Bruce held out his hand, an invitation to come closer. Dick perked up immediately and hurried over, not hesitating for a second before hopping up onto the bed next to Bruce and attaching himself to the alpha’s side. He swung a leg over Bruce’s stomach, his hand clutching onto the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Bruce held back any surprised reactions. He wasn’t used to the sheer amount of physical affection Dick gave out, nor was he ready for the way the kid was rubbing his face into him, coating the two of them in each others scents. All he knew was that Alfred told him never to react too much, as it might scare Dick off from showing such affection.

“Alfie sounded really worried when Supe– um, when Clark said you were in trouble,” mumbled Dick, his voice almost lost in the fabric of Bruce’s shirt. “I– I got scared.”

Bruce felt something in his chest tighten at that. “I’m alright,” he reassured, “Clark brought me back here.”

Dick’s head popped up from Bruce’s chest to look at Clark with quite possibly the biggest puppy eyes Bruce had ever seen from him. It was impressive, honestly. “Thanks for bringing him back, Superman.”

Clark, who had been previously looking away to allow them some semblance of privacy with Bruce’s death grip still holding strong on his wrist, visibly melted. “Of course! You’re both very important, I won’t let anything happen to either one of you.” That seemed to embolden him, and he stepped closer to the bed again, setting his unoccupied hand down next to Bruce’s neck, suspiciously close to his scent gland. “Bruce, do you feel better now? You were struggling a lot on the way here.”

Bruce was silent for a second, unsure of how to respond to that. Technically, he felt fine beyond the fact that he had an ache stretching across his entire body. Every other symptom (thankfully including his previous arousal) was rendered moot at the proximity and scents of the two surrounding him. It wasn’t unlike the way an omega were to deal with their heat with their family, bundled up in a nest with their children and their… mate.

Shit.

Okay, so it didn't seem like he was magically turning into an omega or anything, but the gas definitely meant to send him into a cycle. If he went into rut with the aggressive alpha pheromones in the air, it was logical to believe he would become violent. It was unlucky on their part that he was attracted to alphas, but had it been any other way, well. He can imagine what the outcome would've been.

“I don't think the inducer worked in the way they expected it to,” Bruce said. “They wanted me to have a violent rut, so they must be practiced with both inducing alphas and omegas. The omega in there wasn't in a normal heat.”

“Interesting,” Clark hummed, his thumb swiping over Bruce's scent gland as he thought. Bruce went completely still at the feeling, the ache in his body finally gone. “But why wouldn't the inducer work? It worked on the omega.”

Bruce cleared his throat, desperately trying to think of anything but Clark's fingers massaging his scent gland. If anything it seemed to be forcing the chemicals out of his system, so that was a net positive.

“Maybe it's like Queen Bee!” Dick piped up, excited to include himself. “She affects alphas, right? ‘Cause she's an omega, she can control them. But she can't control omegas or betas, yeah?”

Bruce hummed in thought. “Her mind control is limited to the dynamic who would be attracted to omegas biologically, but it has been shown to work on other omegas and betas if they are attracted to the same sex.”

“Yeah!” Dick grinned at him, all crooked teeth and bright enthusiasm.

“Okay… but, you're saying that whatever they meant to do to you didn't work because, what?” Clark tilted his head and Bruce swore he could hear the gears in his head turning. “It didn't make you violent because–”

“B likes alphas, duh,” Dick finished, promptly shoving his head into the crook of Bruce’s neck. Now both of his scent glands were surrounded, but it was oddly comforting.

“You–”

“Very observant, Dick,” Bruce sighed, placing his hand on the beta's hair and petting the messy locks down. He rubbed his wrist into the boys scalp as he continued, “while crude, I believe that reasoning is sound. They were expecting me as an alpha to see the scent of another alpha as a challenge, not something to desire while in an induced rut. That's why it didn't work.”

“But you–”

“Once we get the results from Alfred regarding the blood from that omega, hopefully it'll have traces of whatever drug they used,” Bruce continued, “If we can engineer an antidote based on that toxin, maybe we can be prepared the next time we encounter someone under the influence. It shouldn't be too difficult–Kal, are you alright?”

Clark was staring at him, a blush high on his cheekbones. He sputtered at being called on, “Yes! Um–you don't like omegas?”

Dick groaned from his spot in Bruce's neck.

“I didn't think my sexuality was an especially interesting topic,” Bruce replied slowly.

“Not at all! No, it isn't. Unless you want it to be,” Clark laughed, but it was a strained, uncomfortable thing. Bruce didn't think Clark to be bigoted when it came to sexuality, and he was almost sure he wasn't because of their history, but this strange nervous behavior didn't make any sense. “No, it's–it's okay. Sorry. More than okay.”

Dick, once again, groaned.

“Master Clark,” said Alfred, reentering the cave at a spectacular moment. “I've taken the liberty of fixing a room for you, however I will also offer you a chair if we find any separation between the two of you hinders Master Bruce's recovery.”

Clark was clearly relieved to have an excuse to drop their current conversation. “Thank you, Alfred! Should I try to move again?”

“That would be ideal, sir.”

Clark nodded, slowly withdrawing his hand from Bruce's neck. Bruce almost thought that he was fine, as he wasn't immediately lapsing into panic again. He had Dick by his side, meaning he had someone close and logically, that should be enough. As Clark stepped away he felt his heart begin to speed up, the panic gripping him by the throat this time. Bruce gasped at the shock of it and Dick whined against him, shooting upright to look at Bruce directly. He could feel his scent souring, a horrible smell of anxiety and yearning filling the room. The chemical smell from the omegas was also leaking out of his glands now, an awful odor akin to burnt plastic.

“What's wrong with him, Alfie?” Tears were collecting at the corners of Dick's eyes and he patted his hands frantically on Bruce's chest.

Clark was back a moment later, nearly using his superspeed in an effort to get there. Alfred pushed a chair behind him and he sat down, gripping Bruce's free hand in one of his own. His other hand resumed it's gentle caressing against his scent gland, the slow and methodical movements calming Bruce down almost immediately.

“Bruce, it's okay, I'm sorry,” Clark reassured, looking all of Clark Kent and none of Superman as worry creased his brow.

“I believe I can create an antidote for the substance that has attacked Master Bruce, if I'm not mistaken,” Alfred said, placing a blanket on the arm of the chair Clark was sitting in. “Until then, we require your assistance. Please make yourself at home, Superman.”

The betas's mouth quirked up and Bruce sighed. At least whatever hybrid cycle that was induced would be over soon. The heat in his body had died down, yet he still felt warm and somewhat itchy in his clothes. It was far from something he couldn't handle.

Clark graciously thanked Alfred for his hard work and the beta excused himself, leaving the three of them alone once again.

“You can leave, Clark,” said Bruce, frustration evident in his tone. He trusted Clark more than anyone in the league, but having to rely on him for this was defeating, in a way. “This isn't ideal, but I should recover just fine.”

Clark laughed and Bruce wasn't sure if he should be offended or not. “I think if I leave now after those instructions, I'd be more worried of Alfred coming after me than if you'd be okay.”

“And me,” said Dick, voice muffled against Bruce's side.

“And you, Dick,” Clark amended, a warm smile on his face. He was looking at the two of them with a certain fondness that Bruce couldn't help but stare at him, the ease with which he did so confusing to Bruce. He wondered if Clark looked at omegas that way, if he looked at Lois that way. Was he more giving when it came to his scent with her, or was it just as scarce? Right now Bruce could sense it, his bright alpha pheromones mixing with Bruce's chemical riddled smell, but it wasn't as strong as he would like. Clark was so careful with his scent, so sparing with it, almost like he didn't want it out at all.

Whatever the reason, even the slight amount of scent that was reaching him was enough to settle his body.

“Okay,” he said, turning his head to the ceiling and closing his eyes. “Thank you, Clark.”

Chapter Text

Bruce's smell was driving him crazy . It was so much of him , so much alpha, yet there was just the barest hint of chemical omega seeping into the mix that it was making his instincts go haywire trying to smother Bruce in his own scent.

The fact that Dick was there kept their interactions strictly to scenting alone, and Bruce was calmed down enough that he wasn't sporting a hardon anymore.

Clark breathed a sigh of relief, even if he would've been more than willing. He wasn't exactly a fan of any type of dubious consent.

Alfred had been able to concoct an antidote to the gas no more than four hours after they had arrived, so thankfully Bruce was able to stand being more than two feet away from Clark again. (Clark didn't mind one bit, but he was also glad that Bruce was feeling better.)

He didn't understand the chemical process of creating an antidote, but Alfred had given him two vials of it in case he ran into any issues.

Alfred promised to make larger quantities of it soon, but he refused to do anything until all three of them were in bed and resting after the day's events. Clark was finally able to go home, but not without scenting Bruce for the umpteenth time. Dick cheekily said that Bruce “stank” now, which Bruce rolled his eyes at.

It was sweet, of course. Clark loved it. He loved seeing Dick comfortable with him, with both of them. He knew what the boy had been through, knew what he'd seen before, and having him enjoy being in Clark’s presence brought forth a kind of paternal instinct he didn't even realize he possessed.

“Clark.”

“Huh?” He blinked at Lois, who was waving her hand in front of his face.

She stared at him for a second, an eyebrow raised at his dumb expression. “I was just asking why you smell like, well, that.”

Clark felt a blush creep up his face, his ears burning. “Ah, well, my friend– he, um. He was sick.”

“Your friend?” her nose wrinkled in thought. “Wait! You mean your Gotham friend?”

Clark gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, my uh– Gotham friend.” After a careful look around to make sure no one was near them, he continued. “We have a case together and he wouldn’t let me help so got–hurt, I guess. I was there with him.”

“Alphas, always so stubborn,” she said, her fingers trailing up his sleeve. “I’m guessing this is all of the case I’m going to hear about?”

“For now,” he said, sheepish, “but once we know more and he says it’s okay, I promise I’ll fill you in.”

“Alright,” Lois paused, her fingers dragging along his sleeve. “Clark, let’s go to lunch together.”

“Oh, sure,” he replied easily, a bright grin on his face, “I’d love to! We should invite Jimmy too, he would come I’m sure–”

“No, Clark,” Lois interrupted, looking a bit exasperated, “just us.”

He could distantly hear Cat Grant mumbling something about Lois not being very subtle, but that just confused him more.

“I mean, okay–”

“Kent!” was shouted from Perry’s office. Clark jerked so hard he slammed his knee against his table and bent the frame of it, so he hurriedly pushed it back into place and rushed to the mans’ office with an apologetic look on his face directed at Lois.

“Sir?” said Clark, peeking his head into the doorway. He was man enough to admit he was a bit scared of his boss.

“You’re on the Lexcorp gala,” said Perry, smacking a file down onto the table. “I’m sending you and Lois. I need quotes, facts, information, everything. They say he’s going to unveil something, but no one knows what it is.”

“O-oh, thank you, sir,” he tripped over his words, carefully adjusting his glasses. “This seems like a big story, are you sure?”

Perry held out the file, shaking it like he was tired of holding it up for all of five seconds. “That’s why I’m sending Lois too. You need something, ask her. She has other assignments for the gala as well. Got it?”

“You betcha’!” Clark grinned and grabbed the file. “Won’t let ya down, Chief.”

Which is how he found himself in his not-as-big-but-still-too-big suit, Lois next to him and on his arm. The venue was the Lexcorp building in New Troy, their headquarters in downtown Metropolis. It was grand and overwhelming, but Clark expected nothing less from Luthor. Lois had mentioned that it was the tallest building in Metropolis, "Do you think he's compensating for something?" and Clark hadn't really bothered to learn anything else about the place other than that. Lois was saying something now, probably something important, but he was busy scanning the crowd to see if Bruce had made it yet. He was Brucie now, so of course there was no chance of him being on time to a party. That didn't mean Clark couldn't just look.

Bruce had already briefed him on the gala and how he suspected that they would finally learn something from Luthor's side, but otherwise, he wasn't sure what would happen. As long as it didn't happen to Bruce this time, everything would be fine.

Thinking of Bruce helpless, in pain, and unable to control his body after the gas attack was a terrible image in his brain. Seeing Bruce so vulnerable was a stark reminder of how human he was, of the way that poisons and weapons could hurt him. It made something possessive curl in his belly, a blinding rage at seeing his partner hurt.

“Oh!” Lois perked up, breaking Clark out of his thoughts. “The mayor is here. I want to see if he finally has an answer on his renewable energy budget, unlike last time.”

With that, she was gone. Clark had been so distracted he only vaguely realized that she'd accidentally left his arm smelling of omega . The smell was pleasant if not a bit much, but he shrugged it off. 

Instead of standing around being useless, Clark made his rounds of trying to get quotes. It didn't accomplish much, not with most of the attendees just wanting to talk of what they were wearing or the hors d'Oeuvres on offer.

Just as he felt completely useless being there, a familiar laugh, along with his favorite heartbeat, reached his ears. Bruce was saying something about how he was sorry for being late and, “Lexie would be so upset if I didn't show!”

Clark made his way towards the other alpha, his body itching to be close to the man. He missed his scent so badly it was kind of pathetic, but he didn't care. It would take one touch to cover Bruce in his pheromones again, a familiar mark on the man that would settle any instincts building inside himself.

When he finally pushed his way to being right in front of Bruce, he blinked at the sight before him.

Bruce was stunning, of course. A sleek black suit fitted to him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist. His hair was perfect, combed and styled into perfection, the fashionable cufflinks at his wrists adding that much more to his look. His scent was always more aggressive at galas, as he insisted on projecting his carefree, playboy attitude. Brucie Wayne didn't care if his scent covered everyone and everything in sight.

Clark was more than happy to drink that scent in. However, beside him stood another alpha. A woman, her short black hair slicked back and away from her face, her black dress cascading down her form and accentuating her natural beauty.

“B likes alphas, duh.”

That bounced around in his head, ringing in his ears as he took in their figures. She was holding onto his arm, her scent leaking out and onto his suit sleeve the more she stood there. Clark's nose twitched.

“Bru–uh, Mr. Wayne!” Clark was always thrown off whenever he had to go into reporter mode around Bruce. He hunched his shoulders back into a smaller stature before speaking. “It's good you're here–I'm glad you're here–you um, you made it.”

The woman arched a brow at him, a knowing smirk on her face. She dragged a long, pointed fingernail down Bruce's tie before speaking. “I'll be prowling around if you need me, darling.”

Bruce was staring at Clark like he was the dumbest man on earth, and Clark wasn't sure if that was necessarily wrong at the moment. He gulped and gave Bruce a shaky smile. “Some party, huh?”

“Are you asking for a quote, Kent?” drawled Bruce, his hands finding their way into his dress pants to make him the embodiment of relaxed.

“No,” replied Clark, “I guess I should get a quote from you, but not now.”

Bruce's smokey scent was almost suffocating in how present it was, his heightened senses doing him no favors in just how much he could smell of Bruce. The gel in his hair, the cologne on his skin, the way his pheromones curled thick and dominant in the air around him. Clark gulped again.

He distantly remembered an interview he did with Bruce years ago where he asked him why his scent was so intense. Bruce had winked and asked if he was interested, to which Clark's face exploded in red in response. The answer he gave was that it was alluring, and he knew he had a nice scent, so why not share?

Now he knew the answer was closer to the fact that Batman, as a whole, didn't really have a scent. It was yet another thing to distinguish the two.

Bruce hummed, his eyes slipping away to look over the crowd. Clark thought he was maybe looking for the alpha from before and he frowned, jealousy curling thick and unbridled in his chest. Which was ridiculous. Bruce could do whatever he pleased, it wasn't Clark's business.

“What do you think of her?” blurted Clark, “The, um, the woman you're with.”

“Selina?” asked Bruce, confusion evident in his tone. Selina Kyle . Clark felt the need to slap himself – of course the person Bruce brought was important for the case. “Quote?”

“No, just between us.”

Bruce looked at him again, the weight of his gaze heavy on Clark. “She's here to grab a few things for us. I'll be watched too closely to do much.” he tilted his head as if in thought, but Clark couldn't shake the thought of it being just like an omega presenting to their mate. His scent was an alluring pull, a call for someone to claim , and take , and– Christ , he didn't need to be thinking like that right now. “ Bruce Wayne needs to be seen jumping in a fountain at midnight, not lurking around looking for classified files.”

Clark laughed for show, in case anyone was confused as to why Brucie Wayne was talking to a reporter for so long. Also because hearing Bruce refer to himself in the third person was always a bit funny to him.

“Do you like her scent?” Gosh , Clark couldn’t seem to just shut up .

Something in Bruce’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing infinitesimally. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk and Clark felt smaller than he had in his entire life.

“I thought we already discussed how inclined I am towards alphas, Clark,” Bruce mused.

“Right–yes, but–”

“Or,” Bruce said, stepping closer and leaning into Clark’s space. He adjusted Clark’s tie, unsubtly leaving his scent behind as he did so. “Are you asking if I prefer her scent?”

Clark gulped. For some reason he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Bruce's gaze; his blue, blue eyes were burning into him as if he were the one with laser vision. “Prefer it over…”

Bruce's eyes flicked down to neck, zeroing in on his scent gland. To anyone else it would just seem as if Bruce were flirting with the press, and it could still be for show, but Clark wanted so badly for him to be sincere it almost hurt. “I think you understand.”

Would it be so bad? For Clark to flirt back, to take what he wanted. It almost seemed real, the way Bruce was looking at him and leaning in, offering himself up like a good mate would. Almost . He could feel his canines aching, his pupils dilating to show his clear interest. From the way Bruce's eyes were locked on his there was no way he hadn't noticed.

“I–”

Lois chose then to insert herself, taking her place again at Clark's side and wrapping herself around his arm.

“Mr. Wayne, I didn't see you come in.” said Lois, a predatory glint in her eye.

Like that, the spell was broken. Bruce's eyes snapped back up to Clark's and he stepped back so they had a comfortable, respectable distance between them.

“Ah yes, Ms…?”

“Lois Lane.”

“Sure,” Bruce replied, his head tilting as he dragged his gaze over Lois’ figure. Something in Clark's chest tightened at that. He knew that Bruce flirted with anything that moved at these galas and yet he was still fooled by it. It wasn't necessary to dwell on, but it also wasn't something he could just brush off. At this point he was far too invested in Bruce Wayne to ever brush it off. “You look lovely tonight, Ms. Lane.”

His smokey scent was wafting over to the two of them now, nearly choking Clark in its intensity. Lois didn't seem to be reacting as much, but her grip on Clark's forearm tightened.

Clark wanted to soak himself in the scent, he wanted to bury his nose in Bruce's neck and do nothing else but envelope himself in the pheromones there and never smell anything else–

“I wasn't aware you had company already,” Bruce said wistfully, but something about his body language seemed more closed off.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then a distinct clinking brought attention to the front of the room where a slightly raised stage was. Lex Luthor stood atop it, a champagne glass in hand.

“Thank you,” he said, holding out his glass to the crowd, “to all of you. Your support means everything to Lexcorp.”

Applause took over the room, and Clark glanced at Bruce to see his reaction. The alpha’s eyes slid over to meet his own, a subtle glint in them. Clark hurried to look away.

“I'm sure we're all dying to know why I've brought you all here.” Lex slid a hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small perfume vial to show the gala. The attendees broke out into hushed whispers, and from what Clark could make out, they were all asking what type of pheromone perfume he came up with. “We've grown too distant from ourselves, our instinct and desires. Tell me, when was the last time you truly doused yourself in what was truly you?

“Lexcorp has created the solution to the problem that is that disconnect.” his eyes slid over the crowd. “I intend to release a product that brings us back to ourselves. A pheromone stimulant meant to feed off of your own scent; it would make your scent irresistible. It will bring us back to our true, unburdened selves.”

“Irresistible?” whispered Clark. He looked over at Bruce again and saw his jaw clenched.

“I look forward to everyone being able to enjoy our new product, once released.” Lex continued, a wide grin on his face. “Now please, enjoy the rest of the festivities.”

It was short, concerning, and left far too many things unsaid for Clark to feel even remotely comfortable. He knew Bruce would know what to do, what to say, but Lois was a heavy weight on his arm and a reminder that they weren't exactly in the prime location to talk about case sensitive topics.

Whether he liked it or not, Luthor was making his way through the crowd and towards their little bubble faster than he could think of what to say. Bruce was quick, stealing the man's attention the moment he came within earshot.

“Oh, Lexy,” tutted Bruce, a suave grin on his face. “ Some alpha's don't need the help of some kind of magic potion to be irresistible.” he shrugged his shoulders as Lex stared at him, a fire burning in his eyes. Bruce winked at the assistant standing next to Luthor and she blushed. “I could give you some pointers, if you would like.”

“That's unnecessary, Mr. Wayne,” Lex responded calmly. “I do not need a lesson on how to spread my pheromones like a mindless–”

“Mr. Luthor,” Clark cut in, “I have a few questions. Clark Kent, Daily Planet .”

Luthor raised an eyebrow at him, even as his lip twitched in distaste from being cut off. Lois tactfully removed herself from his arm but stayed close, her eyes boring into him.

“You mentioned that this product will ‘bring us back to ourselves,’” he quoted, adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose. “What do you mean by that?”

As Clark stood there, Bruce plucked another glass from a waiter walking past. Logically, Clark knew that Bruce never actually drank anything save for a glass or two, but also logically, Clark had no idea where he poured the actual drink out. He mentally shook himself from his thoughts and to the man in front of him again.

“I believe that perhaps our steps forward through innovation have created a devastating disconnect between ourselves and our primal instincts,” Luthor continued, “who are we to forget where we came from? Our assigned sex, our urges. Sometimes it's for the best that we act in the way our castes define us. Do you not agree?”

Clark had about as much as he could get when it came to quotes-from-Luthor for the night, so he found it best to make a quick exit. “Ah– sure, yeah. How very… counter revolutionary of you.”

Lex didn't seem to take a liking to that, and he gave a resounding scowl in response. “To strive for the best of ourselves is revolutionary,” he corrected, tilting his head up so he could look down his nose at Clark. It didn't work very well, as Clark was taller, but he hunched down as much as possible to add to the act. “If you cannot see that, I have nothing more to say to the Daily Planet .”

After that, he marched off, likely to find a reporter who would be more interested in having him farm them for more speech practice.

“Smooth, Kent,” Bruce murmured, and Lois laughed at his side. Clark could sense the subtle shift in Bruce’s demeanor, where he was beginning to slur some words together, a hand coming up to loosen his tie. That was a terrible thing to do, of course, because more of that smokey scent spilled from his collar like a tidal wave from the sea. “Next time I want someone to turn tail and run, I'll be sure to call you.”

Clark gave him his best exasperated look. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne.” After checking his watch and seeing that it was finally an acceptable time to leave, he was eager to do just that. “I'm sure we'll see each other soon.”

Without thinking, Clark reached out and adjusted the collar of Bruce's dress shirt. It was purposefully rumpled and he knew that , but that didn't change the fact that they were parting ways and his inner alpha was clawing its way up to the surface to lay claim to Bruce.

It wasn't until after he finished adjusting Bruce's collar with one hand did he realize that he was brushing his fingertips against his throat, a trail of earthy alpha left behind on his perfect skin. The flush there was beautiful, and if he wasn't so mortified by his own actions he might have been able to enjoy the way Bruce's heart skipped over a beat. As it was, they both stood immobile in front of one another. Clark with his fingers on Bruce's pulse point, and Bruce with his glass halfway to his lips.

“Uh – Smallville,” said Lois.

Right. They were at a public event, and he was standing next to his coworker who knew him very well. He needed to get himself together.

“ Phew , would you look at the time?” Clark laughed, strained, and tapped his watch which was on the hand now currently being pulled away from Bruce's scent gland. He could smell the fact that there was a bit of Bruce's smell left behind on his fingers and tried to squash down just how pleased that made him. “So sorry to keep you to myself, Mr. Wayne. We'll be off now!”

And with that, he gently, but firmly, grabbed hold of Lois and pulled her along with him to leave. She was saying something. He was sure of it. But he couldn't hear anything over the rush in his ears.

The only thing he could hear was Bruce's heartbeat thumping away, back to its usual rhythm. After a moment, he could hear Selina returning to his side. From the minor shuffling, she was handing something over to Bruce. She sniffed, then from the sound of it, dragged a hand down the front of his dress shirt.

“You've got an incredibly bold one, darling.”

Bruce sighed, and this time he could hear him gulp like he was actually drinking from the glass this time. “You have no idea.”

Chapter Text

“This is so dumb,” said Dick.

Bruce's eyes slid over to where Dick was looking at his phone upside down while hanging by his feet on a trapeze. Alfred set it up after numerous attempts–and successes– from Dick at trying to hang from the chandeliers. Now the cave was filled with various gym equipment. “What is?”

Dick grumbled to himself for a moment, swinging himself a few times before he pointed at the screen of the batcomputer . Somehow, he managed to cast a news article onto the screen. How he did that, Bruce had no idea. He was mildly impressed.

On screen was an article showing an image of himself, completely soaked, shirtless, and splashing water at the camera. He had the signature Brucie smile on, wide and bright, and he was knee deep in Lex Luthor's fountain. It was a great publicity stunt, if he's honest. Showing off just how much his scent could affect the masses without Luthor's drug was a plus, since he had to strip almost completely naked by the end of the night. He had kept his underwear on for that one, at least.

It was titled ‘Brucie Wet and Wild? Billionaire Alpha Continues To Be A Player Heartthrob, Despite Being A Father.”

It wasn't the strongest article heading he'd ever seen, but it also wasn't the worst. Since becoming a–well, father seemed like a strong word for it. He could accept that title if Dick offered it to him, but they hadn't spoken about whether or not the beta wanted him to fill that role for him. Dick's father was dead, and he had the unfortunate fate of having watched it happen. Bruce never asked if he wanted another alpha to be that for him, and Alfred had told him to allow Dick to decide for himself whether that would happen or not.

Well, since becoming a father figure , he had taken on quite a bit of scrutiny for his stunts. Was he fit to be a father? Should he be allowed to adopt? Is an alpha alone enough to raise a child? Don't they need an omega to properly take care of them?

None of it made any difference one way or another to him. It didn't bother him, just like all of the other articles about him didn't bother him.

There was only one time where the article used Dick's name, and his full name at that, that had him truly seething. They did the same thing as always, question his fatherhood and his ability; that was fine, he didn't care. However, they named Dick and used a picture of his boy , his pack , and they pitied him. They made a mockery of his grief, of how just because he looked happy with Bruce one time, for the first time since his parents death, at that, he had somehow replaced his parents. Wayne industries had descended upon that news outlet so brutally that within the week they had filed for bankruptcy and their stocks had collapsed so far that they had no other choice but to shut down.

Nowadays, the news knew better than to poke the bear. Or bat , as Dick put it. Bruce was the only one in the news, and if Dick was on a surprise outing with him, he was carefully out of view of any camera angles. Bruce was the one being questioned, talked about, or thought less than. Which was fine. More than fine. The point was to be underestimated, and if that also included his parenting–leadership?-- that was fine.

At least, he thought so.

“Soooo dumb!” Dick repeated, his anger seeping into his scent. As a beta it was more tame of course, but it still radiated off of him in waves to someone within their pack.

“If you're saying that my jumping into the fountain was dumb, I'll have you know I've frequented the sewers quite a few times,” Bruce said, turning his attention back down to the report in front of him. It was referencing the antidote they had created and its specifications; they needed to send it to the watchtower as soon as possible so that it could be made into a larger batch. “I hardly think that fountain water is going to do much to me after that.”

Dick broke out into giggles, his voice high and light. It made Bruce grin to himself, glad he was turned away. “Ew! No, I mean–ew, you went in there ?” he shook his head, as if banishing the thought. “Gross. Anyway, I mean it's dumb that they say you're a bad influence or whatever.”

Bruce hummed, flipping through a few pages before responding. “It isn't an incorrect assumption based on the information available to the public,” he said, “I would be concerned for a child in the care of someone like that as well.” he vaguely gestured to the image on screen as he said as much.

Dick huffed, finally flipping down from his trapeze to land on the training mats with a light thud. “But that doesn't mean you can't have a pup.”

Bruce silently turned in his chair, careful not to spook Dick as he did so. He watched the boy, the way he shifted from foot to foot with his neverending energy and his crooked smile and his half grown in front tooth. He scented his subtle beta scent, the way it settled in the cave comfortably, like it was meant to be there.

“I just think it's kinda dumb, y'know,” the beta continued, oblivious to Bruce's thoughts.

“Dick,” said Bruce, “what do you view me as?”

“Huh?” Dick’s nose scrunched up at the question, his head tilting side to side in thought. “My d– um… my–”

“It's okay, chum.”

Dick huffed out a frustrated sigh. “A pack leader, I guess.”

Bruce hummed, turning back to his work. It was a step in the right direction. A pack leader meant safety, guidance, and reassurance. Bruce was fine with that, and he could understand that dynamic. Alfred was his pack leader for a long time until he became the alpha of their pack, so it was an easy route to take. He didn't think about what Dick was trying to say before that.

Dick didn't bring up the article again, and Bruce didn't ask for further information on what their familial dynamic was. Instead, the boy returned to his routines and Bruce buried his nose in more files.

The next slew of them were from Selina; more accurately, the files she had expertly taken from Luthor's office.

“You seriously think he has those things in his office?” She had asked, “I'm not convinced he's that stupid.”

“What better place to keep them than in a semi public office?” Bruce had replied, carefully adjusting his grip on her wrist. She had a knife to his throat at this point, apparently unhappy with his suggestion of her stealing from the office of one of the most powerful men in the country. “Even if someone finds them, it's impossible to use against him.”

And she had, in fact, found them. They weren't incriminating, as they were simply information on the new perfume his company was launching, but any information was better than nothing.

The files went over quite a few things, alarmingly it emphasized the idea of inhibitions being lowered, almost as if the person were to be under the influence. The drug wouldn't merely heighten the quality and intensity of their scent by targeting the hypothalamus, but it would also lower the processing of their frontal lobe to alter the person's critical thinking skills. Or, more accurately, highly impact them.

As he had said to Clark, it was a focus on instinct. A focus on instinctual power over anything else.

“That's counterintuitive,” Bruce mumbled to himself, the crease between his brows deepening in thought.

“What's counter–intu–”

“Counterintuitive.”

“Yeah, that,” replied Dick.

“The idea of the population focusing on strength,” he said, tapping on the paper as if that would do something. Dick padded his way over, his labored breaths evening out as he focused on the text. “That seems illogical, since he's so hell bent on striking down Superman. Kal is the strongest person on the planet.”

Dick tapped his chin in thought. “Superman doesn't talk to people, though.”

“Do you think that the strength of Lex Luthor's influence would be stronger than Superman’s?” Bruce asked.

“I dunno,” Dick kicked the toe of his socks into the ground, gnawing at his lip in thought. “Superman can't become, like, president, right?”

“No,” answered Bruce, already typing away into the computer. “But Luthor is already dabbling into politics. All it would take is a mindless mob backing him to turn the tides on public opinion over Superman.”

“Do you think his weird perfume thing would work on Superman?” asked Dick. “No way, right?”

“Luthor has plenty of access to Kryptonite if that's all it would take to get the substance into Clark's system,” Bruce said, already pulling up an article of Lex Luthor's latest Superman rants before his JLA communicator went off. He frowned at it, knowing it needed to be especially bad if the League was paging him after his express instructions not to.

Dick already had a wide grin and a hopeful look on his face when Bruce turned to him and firmly stated, “You're staying here.”

“Fine,” he huffed, but he grabbed an earpiece off of the desk before defiantly looking up at Bruce, “but I wanna listen. It'll be good for training!”

That almost caused Bruce to go into his usual lecture of privacy, League confidentiality, and professionalism in the workplace, but his communicator went off again and he relented.

“Disable the mic. You're not to speak under any circumstances.”

“Got it!” with that, Dick ran straight for the stairs that led back into the manor. At least Alfred could supervise the device.

By the time he arrived, Superman and Wonder Woman were both wrestling a massive creature back into the Delaware Bay. It had massive tentacles flowing from its face, with thick skin and a strange sheen to the entire surface of its body. Aquaman had his hands full with a group of enemies. They were vaguely reptilian looking, with spiky scales and sharp, crocodilian like teeth. The Flash was making a mad dash around to grab any civilians out of harm's way, and Green Lantern was building a sort of cage to trap the towering monster in.

All in all, Batman didn't seem to be needed.

“Report,” he said.

“These shitheads came outta nowhere!” Hal yelled, one of the pillars of his cage breaking from the creature's massive tail. “Big Blue and Wonder Woman have it for now, but that things’ slimy as shit !”

Bruce blew a calming breath through his nose. “Superman, report.”

“He's not wrong,” Clark sounded strained, his grip slipping. “I'm having trouble getting any hold on this thing.”

“Can't you just hit it or something?” Barry asked, “y’know, big Superman punch?”

“Even with Aquaman, the tidal waves that would cause would flood Metropolis.” Bruce explained. Barry mumbled something under his breath. He flew the batwing around trying to get a better view of the situation. “Do we have any idea of the origin?”

“They must've come from deep underground, trench level if I'm guessing,” Arthur said, “it was probably drilling that woke them up.”

“Yet another point in the favor of environmentalism,” Hal replied, teeth gritted with the energy he was exerting, “no more drilling into the Earth, it's more work for us!”

“It's more compelling to talk about the exorbitant spending caused by the destruction of these events. The fact that it will hit insurance companies over emphasizing our extreme labor,” Bruce said. 

“Okay, Bats is in a good mood guys. He's joking with me,” said Hal, “excuse me, Mr. Billionaire sir, can we get a raise?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at that, annoyance tugging at his temple. He turned the jet towards a smaller group of the reptilian, all converging on Arthur's position.

“Shit, I can feel his Batglare from here. Yo, Blue, is he doing it?”

A moment of hesitation, then Clark said, “yeah, he's doing it.”

“Aquaman, you've never seen these creatures before?” Batman continued, choosing to ignore the ongoing conversation.

“Seen them? The ocean is fucking massive,” Aquaman bit back. His line cut out for a moment as he spun around to fight off yet another creature attacking him. “They probably traveled up from the Southern Ocean and got confused.”

“You're unable to communicate with them?” Bruce asked.

“Either that or they won't say shit!”

“Wait, do you think they're just lost?” Barry asked, his line crackling with his speed.

“We're giving them way too much credit,” Hal argued back, “they're trying to kill us!”

“Anyone lashes out when they feel threatened,” said Bruce, “especially animals.”

“He’s so poetic today,” Hal muttered, only to have a choked sound punched out of him when the trapped reptile finally broke through.

“Superman,” barked Batman, “use your heat vision to break through the coating on its skin. Wonder Woman, help Superman contain it when you can get a hold on it.” he turned his sights to Aquaman, mulling over their options. “If they’re migrating, they might’ve just gotten sidetracked through the bay. Get them back to the open ocean.”

Superman used his heat vision immediately, his lasers fanning out to cover more surface area and keep from harming the beast itself. “What do we do if they don’t stop?”

“Then we’ll be able to fight them without the threat of flooding Metropolis,” Batman replied, “Green Lantern, block its advancement from the city. Steer it towards the Atlantic. Aquaman –”

“Get them to the ocean, yeah, got it.”

All in all, the League absolutely should have been able to handle that without him. The fact that they called him in was irritating, but at least the issue was being resolved. Once Superman and Wonder Woman lugged the biggest creature far enough into the Atlantic, it seemed to recognize where it was and dove under the surface. The smaller creatures did much the same, quickly following their leader – mother – parent? – and Aquaman gave the all clear that they were heading north. Superman offered to check in with the pod on his next trip to the Fortress, but otherwise, Batman called an immediate meeting at the watchtower for a mission debrief.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred’s voice came through the comm, “Master Dick informed me that he is not allowed to speak on the communicator, but he believed it was important that you know he has spotted Wayne Industry vehicles near the bay.”

“What?” Batman scowled down at the bay, lowering the batwing as much as possible without tipping them off. Low and behold, there were three trucks from Wayne Industries parked behind a warehouse. “Luthor’s, I’m assuming?”

“You would be correct, sir. The warehouse is under Lex Corp.”

“Find me anything to do with our dealings in Metropolis,” said Bruce, “I’ll be back after the debrief. Robin.”

A moment of hesitation, then a quiet, “uh, yes Batman?”

“Good work, chum.”

“Explain to me why I was necessary for this very simple extraction,” said Batman, his level voice doing nothing to hide the frustration dripping from every word.

Everyone around the table seemed to hesitate. The way they all looked at each other, trying to communicate telepathically without J'onn there was almost amusing. Almost , because Bruce was too pissed to care.

“Well,” said Hal, “we are a team . We needed help. That's all.”

“You are a galactic diplomat, the fact that you couldn't resolve the issue alone is an entirely different matter.” Bruce scolded. Hal looked away, his mouth screwed up into an angry, twisted expression.

“We should not reprimand those who ask for help,” Diana spoke up. She sat perfectly straight, her body a taut line. Her pheromones were alternating between calm and mild irritation.

Barry twitched in his seat, nervously shifting at the smells invading the room. “Guys, we can just all admit we got a little in over our heads. We needed some backup, alright?”

“I informed you all that I would be unavailable unless there were dire conditions. This was, in fact, not that .” Bruce grit out. “I expect you all to be able to handle the responsibility of the league without me having to be there and babysit.”

“I don't think that's fair, Batman,” said Superman, his head tilted to the side in thought. “We should support our teammates if they believe they need help. Everyone needs help.”

“I think they're supported just fine. All of you are highly capable individuals, and yet you fall apart the moment something can't be solved through brute force alone.” Bruce sighed, a hand coming up to pinch his brow. “All of you must rotate monitor duty, patrol, and new training modules. Obviously we need a course on strategic decision making.”

Hal, Arthur, and Barry all groaned in unison. Diana and Clark exchanged looks but said nothing. Clark's fingers twitched on the table where they rested just out of reach from Bruce's. Bruce was standing, meaning the two of them had more distance than usual between them. Bruce tried not to think about Clark's scent marking because he was trying to show just how disappointed he was, dammit.

“Until this case is dealt with, Wonder Woman and Superman are your emergency points of contact. Not me .” Batman growled, and from the way everyone in the room shrank back in their chairs he must have gotten his point across.

The meeting was dismissed, with Hal and Barry stuck on monitor duty first. Hal grumbled his whole way there.

“Bruce, are you well?” asked Diana, her hand rested on his shoulder. Besides Clark, she was the only other league member who could touch him. Her alpha scent was sweet, orange and other citrus notes mingling into his space.

“Yes,” answered Bruce, “why do you ask?”

“You're tense,” she smiled when he gave her a flat look. “More than usual. Is it simply this case?”

“I found out that Wayne Enterprises might be involved somehow,” he said. After saying it, he felt a load settle over his shoulders. It was going to be a pain to track down who was using his equipment.

“I see. That is unfortunate,” she hummed, her gaze drifting off to his right. She squeezed his shoulder and took a step back, her chin tilted down in a show of friendly submission. Bruce felt his brows pinch together in confusion, about to ask if she was alright when she spoke again. “Kal, please make sure Bruce relaxes.”

A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed Clark standing just behind him, his body stiff and motionless. His eyes were trained on Bruce's shoulder, the same one Diana had placed her hand before, but he blinked himself out of whatever stupor he was in when Diana stepped away.

“Will do,” Clark said, an easy smile spreading across his face when he made eye contact with Bruce. 

With a final glance between the two of them, Diana took her leave.

“Bruce,” said Superman, “I was thinking–”

“Does this have to do with the case?” Batman cut him off, his jaw a hard line. He didn't like the way Clark was looking at him, the way his eyes drifted over his face like it was searching for something. Whatever he was looking for, Bruce was hoping it wasn't there.

“Huh? No, um – I guess not,” Clark said, frustration growing evident on his face. “But wait, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“This is a place for League business,” Bruce retorted.

That seemed to make Clark pause, his lips pressed together as he seemed to mull over what to say next. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he was struggling not to reach out and touch. Something in his scent deepened, the look on his face making Bruce feel guilty. It was ridiculous and he really shouldn’t break just because Kal was using cheap tricks, but he was weak .

After a long-suffering sigh, Bruce said, “What is it, Kal?”

“Could you–” Clark seemed to throw his previous hesitation away and he grabbed Bruce’s wrist. He was gentle, his thumb rubbing soothing motions into the gland there. With the layer of scent blockers in Bruce’s suit it was impossible to smell it to the human nose, but Clark’s pupils dilated in response. “Would you spend my rut with me again?”

Oh, that was it?

Bruce blinked at him. After a moment, he pulled down the cowl so he could look Clark in the eye unhindered. Clark didn't seem to mind the sweat slick mess his hair was, and if he did, he didn’t say anything.

“Of course. It would be troublesome if you needed to take a leave in the middle of this case,” he said. “When?”

“Thank goodness,” Clark sighed, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Within this month, I think. I was worried you would say no after… our last time together. I can be – a lot, I know.”

His hand slid up Bruce’s arm to reach his neck, now exposed since removing the cowl. Bruce was fairly certain if it weren’t for the work he did with the monks on separating himself from his scent glands, he would have moaned at the obscene way Clark held the side of his neck. It was bordering on possessive, the way his thumb slid into the hollow of his throat and his fingers wrapped around his scent gland. Instead, he remained completely still and with his lips pressed together.

“It’s fine, Clark,” said Bruce, a shiver running down his spine from the way Clark’s hand tightened in response to his name. Jesus, Clark was going to be the death of him. The thought of investing in a collar to ward off his clingy fingers came to mind, but he shut that thought down as fast as it came. “Help me figure out who the hell is using Wayne Industries, in the meantime.”

“I can do that.” The look on Clark’s – Superman’s face was strange, a light flush on his cheekbones. His eyes were trained on Bruce’s neck. “Two weeks. Till my rut.”

Bruce grunted an affirmative at that, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out the look on Clark’s face. He tried telling himself that he couldn’t think that Kal was interested in him in that way. He was an alpha, and presumably about to ask out Lois at any moment, so there was no place for him in Clark’s life. He would get with his omega coworker and this would be done. Bruce just needed to be grateful that he could be a part of another rut, even if it’s just to help the case.

If it meant he could taste Clark one more time, he had no qualms.

Chapter Text

The trucks were easy to locate. Easy for Batman to locate, at least. If he really were just Bruce Wayne, CEO, maybe it would've slipped by undetected. Whoever was doing this was incredibly skilled at hiding their activities.

After looking through his dealings in Metropolis, he found a subdivision of charity employees sent in an effort to help them build shelters. Brucie Wayne notoriously approved almost anything related to charity, so the trucks being sent out every week didn't raise any alarm bells to upper management.

Bruce could figure out the rest of his business dealings later, but for the time being, they were to at least stop the trucks as they were.

It was, unsurprisingly, a lot easier to stop trucks when Superman was helping. Batman was perfectly capable of doing it himself, but something about Clark physically picking up one of the trucks definitely one upped what he could do by himself. Not that he would admit that, as he swung onto the side of the truck and knocked out the driver himself. Robin was happy to join him, his crooked grin almost blinding as he sat in the passenger seat of the truck.

Once both trucks were stopped on a barren Gotham street, Superman and Batman stood behind them. Robin was rolling back and forth from his toes to his heels, just behind Batman.

“What are we waiting for?” asked Robin.

“These trucks are lined with lead,” answered Superman, a frown on his face.

“We have no way of knowing what's in either one of them,” said Batman.

A cursory look over the vehicle did little as to collecting information, but Bruce thought that there couldn't possibly be a bomb inside. Probably.

“Use your heat vision and cut the doors off,” Bruce said, “stay at a distance in case something goes wrong.”

Superman nodded and did as told, his heat vision slicing through the truck doors like butter. The hinges melted away and both doors fell to the ground with a loud crash, leaving the interior exposed.

One truck had chemicals lining the walls, bins and bins filled with what seemed like vials, tranquilizer darts, and IV bags. Bruce could only assume that they were all sealed shut from exposing any scents because he couldn't smell anything.

The other truck, however, held a different kind of cargo. In the front of the truck stood a man wearing tactical gear, his gun trained on the two of them. Before he could even begin firing Clark had the barrel bent toward the sky before he grabbed the man and threw him to the ground. Robin was quick to ziptie his hands together.

“ Jesus,” Superman stood motionless, staring at the contents of the vehicle. The people inside.

There were five people total; three omegas, a beta, and an alpha. The omegas smelled to all be in some sort of preheat while the beta was experiencing a faux heat, which their body clearly wasn't handling well. He was sprawled on the floor of the truck with the omegas trying their best to help him through it. One of the women jerked up at the three of them, but she either couldn't recognize them or didn’t care that they were saved. She quickly went back to scent marking the beta, uncaring of the audience.

In the far corner was an alpha, his scent glands bloody and raw. He was heaving breaths, big shaky things that seemed to wrack his entire frame with every lungful.

Bruce stepped closer to the truck, Dick creeping forward with him. It took him a second, but then he saw what Clark did. They were kids . Teenagers, at most. The youngest one in there was probably only a few years older than Dick, with her round cheeks and underdeveloped scent.

In an instant Superman was grabbing the captor by his collar, a growl in his chest.

“These are kids! ” He spat. The tactile gear in his grip slowly started ripping to shreds. “ Children! You're trafficking children!”

When red started filling Clark's eyes Bruce finally found it in himself to step forward. He placed a hand on Clark's shoulder and squeezed. “Superman, we need to help them.”

“He – !”

“I know,” said Batman, turning away. “He's not what matters right now.”

Clark must've dropped the man because Bruce heard a thud, the man making a distant grunt as he fell to the floor.

“Robin,” he said, stopping at the entrance to the back of the truck. “Help them get out of the truck.”

Robin hesitated, his lips pressed into a thin line. He nodded once and hopped in, his slight stature so, so similar to those in the truck. It was horrible, just how much he had in common with these victims.

“C'mere,” Dick wrapped one of the omegas arms around his neck, wobbling for a moment as he tried to direct her to where Bruce stood. “Batman is a biiiiig softy, you'll be super safe with him.”

Batman didn't comment on that. Instead he held out a hand to the girl, her dark brown eyes scanning over his figure. Her eyes welled up with tears then, which he could only assume meant she realized she was saved after all. He helped her down, seating her far away from the man on the ground.

“Kal,” Bruce called, “sit with her, please. She needs someone.”

Clark was off to the side, seemingly calming himself down with his head in his hands. He took a deep breath and walked over, but his scent was still sour from before. She seemed to shy away from it so he kept his distance, but sat down across from her about ten feet away.

“B-batman?” one of the kids called, and Bruce turned to whichever one said it. It was the alpha in the back, his big eyes teary and red. “You're here?”

“Yes,” he said, helping yet another omega slowly come down from the truck. He clicked a button on his belt to signal Gordon to come, but he sent a message along with it for him to be discrete. The last thing these kids needed was to be plastered all over the news. “I'm sorry I couldn't find you faster.”

Once Robin had the other four out, he made his way towards the alpha. The boy seemed to be the oldest out of all of them, but he was still only around sixteen. A vicious growl ripped out of his chest, startling even himself. The boy covered his mouth in an attempt to stop it but only when Dick backed away did he stop.

“Robin, get out of the truck,” Bruce called, slowly making his way inside. Robin hopped out and Bruce stepped closer to the boy, another growl ripping free from his throat.

“I'm sorry,” the boy cried, “I can't control it.”

Batman was silent. He mulled over his options, all the while slowly creeping his way toward the boy.

“I'm going to pick you up,” he said, “it's okay if you lash out. Don't be scared, I won't drop you.”

“What?” The boy looked petrified, but Bruce did as he said. He picked up the boy like a toddler, holding him tight against his chest. The boy started to spasm, his growl cracking in his throat from how loud it was. His teeth sunk into the armor above Batman's shoulder, but that did little to affect him.

Bruce brought him out of the truck and administered the antidote he kept in his belt and the boy started to calm down, his growl tapering into nothing as he passed out.

“W-what did you do to him?” One of the omegas asked, the youngest out of the five. She still had tears welled up in her eyes but they hadn't fallen yet.

“He's gonna be A-okay!” Robin assured, his toothy grin bright. “It stops whatever bad stuff they gave you guys!”

The girl nodded, curling in on herself now that she was satisfied with the answer. The kids all seemed to huddle together now, their bodies pressed against each other to keep warm in the chilly Gotham night. It was nearing one in the morning now, still somewhat early for Bruce, but the kids seemed exhausted.

Batman gingerly set the young alpha down with the group, one of the older omegas carefully cradling his head in her lap. Bruce undid the clasps on his cape, easily freeing it from his cowl and placed it over the group of kids. Clark seemed to take that as his queue and started telling the kids about how he didn't know that Batman could detach his cape until he tried grabbing it one time. Bruce wasn't pleased with the talking point, but it made one of the kids giggle, which was fine. Robin sat with the group and administered the antidote to the rest of them, but at varying levels so the rest of them could remain conscious.

Bruce rolled his shoulder and walked to the man on the ground. He was silent and facing away from them, so he must've gotten the wrong idea when he heard footsteps.

“You're shit outta luck, big blue,” the man spat, “your phony bullying doesn't scare me, I won't say shi–”

Before he could finish speaking Batman grabbed him by his scruff and held him so he was facing him. An alpha scruffing another alpha was a slap in the face to anyone, but the color seemed to drain out of the man's face once he was eye to eye with Batman.

“Talk.”

“Listen man – I don't know – !’

Batman slammed the mans face into the ground, a sickening crack signifying a most definitely broken nose. The man screamed, a garbled sound caused by his blood flooding his mouth. Batman pulled him back up to be face to face with him.

“Talk.”

“I – I just do whatever they tell me!” the alpha cried, his body shaking. His nose was snapped in the middle, which Bruce felt a form of satisfaction at.

“Like sex trafficking children?” demanded Batman, a deep growl in his chest.

“They don't give me a choice,” the man sobbed now, tears streaming down his face. “I-it's Falcone, he knows my family, my mate !”

There was his answer of who in Gotham was involved with Luthor.

“How do you get your information?”

“They use pagers, those fucking ancient things,” he said, “I just follow whatever they say. They told me to bring these kids to this place, but I don't know what they're doing with them, I swear to god! I didn't know it was sex trafficking!”

Bruce checked over the man's face, his eyes narrowing in scrutiny. He doubted the man didn't have any idea what was happening with them, but maybe he had tried convincing himself otherwise as a sort of coping mechanism.

“Tell Jim Gordon who your mate is and he'll get them into protective services,” Batman said, his lips pressed into a thin line. He threw the man onto the ground for no other reason than giving the kids at least some form of justice in the moment. “Cooperate with the case and the GCPD might be able to help you, otherwise I know a few Gotham criminals who don't treat child abusers kindly.”

The man nodded his head frantically and sobbed into the asphalt, and Bruce chose then to walk back to the group of kids. He walked back to Dick asking the group, “Do you guys like lollipops?”

The kids all looked at him like he'd grown a second head, but after a moment a few of them murmured out quiet “yeah”’s.

Batman reached into his belt and pulled out five lollipops, all varying flavors. He made a mental note to have Alfred restock his stash. The kids all took them with wide eyes and the beta, who seemed to finally calm down after the antidote, took one for the alpha as well.

He stared up at Batman with wonder in his eyes, and after a moment he piped up. His voice seemed gravely and barely there, but he was loud enough. “Could you – um, could you mark us?”

Clark looked back and forth between Batman and the group, his eyes wide. He was still a few paces away from the gaggle of kids, but his presence was a lot calmer than it was before.

“Would it help?” asked Bruce.

“If,” one of the omegas started, her lips trembling, “if Batman scents us, no bad guys will touch us. They'll be too scared.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah,” the beta agreed, his hands twisting together anxiously. “Would you? Please?”

Bruce spared a cursory glance over at Clark, his curious eyes glued to Batman's form. He broke out into a big smile when he saw Bruce looking at him.

“With Batman's scent on you, you'll be extra safe!” Superman agreed, and all the kids stared up at Bruce expectantly.

Batman felt his lips tug up into a small smile, but he knew the shadows were covering him enough that the kids didn’t see it. Clark could. He pushed that thought out of his head and he brushed a hand through each of the kids' hair, his artificial non-scent rubbing off on each of them. It wasn't an actual scent, of course, but criminals seemed to memorize what his scent blockers smelled like and high tailed it away from anywhere that smelled like him. So much so that when he needed to be stealthy he had a wide array of other scent blockers to use.

The kids all seemed to calm down after that, their elevated heartbeats calming down enough that they all started to crash at the same time after being scented. Bruce didn't want to think about the last time they had a proper rest.

The smallest omega made her way over to him, her fingers still shaking. He knelt down in front of her, looking over her dirty clothes and slightly matted hair. She was a bit taller than Dick but still just as slight.

“You're safe now,” Batman assured.

She gripped her lollipop in one hand as she nodded, her lips wobbling like she was holding herself back from crying. With little hesitation she rushed forward to wrap her arms around Batman's neck, finally weeping into the junction between his neck and shoulder. Bruce wrapped his arms around her, a solid, grounding hug while she cried.

He saw Clark staring at him, a small smile on his face even though there was concern written all over it. Concern for the situation, for the children, probably everything combined.

The girl seemed to feel better as she stepped away, murmuring a final “thanks, Batman,” before she went back to join the little group of children under his cape.

Just as Bruce was about to call it up to higher ground and wait for the police, Clark stood with his back to the kids and held out his arms to shield them.

“More are coming now,” warned Superman, his fists tight in anticipation. “One armored vehicle, lead lined.”

“Robin, get behind me,” barked Batman. He felt uneasy without his cape; his natural defense mechanism stripped from him. He could fight just fine without it, but it was incredibly helpful when ruining someone's line of sight with a gun. It was fine , though, they would be just fine.

Once the truck made it to them a group of men jumped out of the back, guns and electric batons in their hands. There couldn't be more than fifteen of them which was light work for the two of them, but a flash of green made Bruce pause.

Clark stumbled next to him, falling to a knee as the men drew closer.

“Kryptonite,” said Batman, absentmindedly touching his belt. He thought that they had gotten rid of any of it left on the planet, save for his own stash, but clearly that wasn't true.

A few of them had a faint green hue to their weapons, but it didn't seem extremely potent. After a moment Clark stood up again, the surprise in the moment wearing off.

“It's not strong,” said Superman, “I can fight. Just… no heat vision or flying.”

Bruce grunted in acceptance. That was fine.

Even with a crippled Superman, they took out the men easily. In no time, ten of them were sprawled on the ground. Robin went around grabbing their fallen weapons, flipping through the fray to avoid any unnecessary conflict.

They were down to four now. Superman grabbed one of the men and threw him into the side of the car, his superstrength still barely present.

“You should leave,” said Batman, roundhouse kicking a gun out of one of the men's hands. He slipped behind him and kicked him in the back, the man flying to the ground and smacking his head on the asphalt. “We don't know if they have more kryptonite they're not using, and the police should be here soon.”

Clark growled and punched another man unconscious. “We're almost done! I'm not leaving you here alone –”

Click.

Batman turned to the source of that sound, seeing a man standing just beyond his reach. The barrel of his gun glowed a sickly green, a kryptonite bullet clearly loaded into the chamber. Something cold settled in his gut at the realization of where it was pointed and he didn't even think.

Without his cape it was nearly impossible to fend off bullets, so he had no choice but to stand in the direct line of fire and watch as the man pulled the trigger and shot him in the chest point blank.

Distantly, he heard Robin and the other children yelling. Not so distant was a vicious growl ripping through Superman's chest.

He knew that he should’ve remained on his feet, he knew how traumatizing it was for him when he saw his parents falling after they were shot, but his legs wouldn't – couldn't – cooperate. He fell to the ground with a pained grunt, his cowl protecting the back of his head from a harsh impact on the ground.

Think.

The bullet entered the top right portion of his chest, at the top of his pectoral muscle. His armor, while mostly bullet proof, couldn't withstand a point-blank shot. It also unfortunately hit right at the weakest point of the top portion of his chest plate (something he would need to adjust later). It slowed the bullet down as much as it possibly could, meaning there was no exit wound to worry about while he laid on his back.

Past the shaking of his hands he could feel his extremities, meaning he hadn't gone into shock yet. His heart was safe but he could feel blood pouring from the wound, meaning if he couldn't stop the bleeding he would die, but he wasn't in immediate danger yet. A slight wheezing in his chest told him he had at least a few broken ribs, maybe a collapsed lung, but he took in another breath and realized it was filling with air. It was probably just damaged.

A subtle shift to his left and his armor shifted to press into the wound. Pain radiated up his body at the motion, but it squeezed the entrance wound just enough to hinder his blood flow.

His vision kept blacking out but he stubbornly forced his eyes open, knowing that passing out now would only traumatize Dick further.

Superman had long since taken the man out, Bruce could only hope he'd done it in a way that the man still had his bones intact.

Robin was above him then, the eyes of his domino mask wide. He was on his knees, a horrible display of when he sat with his parents dead bodies, so Bruce forced himself to move. His hand found its way to Dick's arm, his grip slipping at first before he held on tighter a second time.

“Please,” pleaded Robin, his hands scrambling to grab Batman's hand back. “You're okay –”

Bruce went to say something, but blood welled up in his mouth as he opened it. Horrifically, it spat onto the ground in front of him. Robin panicked further, frantically looking up to where Superman stood frozen just ahead of them.

“S-superman!”

Clark was by his side in an instant, checking over his body.

“He has some broken ribs, but the bullet hasn't hit anything vital,” rattled off Superman, his brows furrowed in concentration. “You shouldn't have done that. I-I could've healed later!”

Bruce grit his teeth, a futile show of stubbornness as he laid on his back with a bullet in his chest.

“I know –” said Bruce, taking a moment to spit out another glob of blood, “how to angle myself not to be shot in the heart.”

Finally, sirens sounded in the distance. Bruce felt relief at being able to leave knowing the kids would be fine and he could have Alfred get the god forsaken kryptonite out of him. Truthfully, there was no evidence suggesting that it could harm humans. Selfishly, Bruce didn't want that in his chest.

“Stay with the kids until Gordon – and only Gordon – has custody of them,” Batman instructed him. Another click to his belt had the batmobile driving down the desolate street.

“I should help you get back –”

“If you hadn't been here maybe there wouldn't have been a kryptonite bullet for me to get shot with,” spat Bruce.

Clark stared at him for a moment, shock evident on his face. “I – I was helping you.”

“And you've done enough.”

Bruce knew in the back of his mind that he was being unfair, but the throbbing of his wound was making him irrational.

“Batman…” Robin was looking between the two of them, his bottom lip wobbling in response to the display of the two alphas and their squabbling. “Superman is coming back with us, right?”

“Superman can find his way home – out of Gotham.”

“B…” Clark fell into silence after that, his lips pressed into a thin line.

With a herculean effort, Bruce rolled onto his front and made his way to his hands and knees. Clark tried to help him get up and he growled in response. He wanted Clark to help him, but his body was in so much pain that he didn't want anything other than to be back in the cave.

He needed to be in his den, with his smells and his pack and his son, and being out in the open in such a compromised position was causing his inner alpha to panic. The thought of being away from Clark also made his alpha panic, but it seemed so complicated in his head. He wanted him there , with his pack, but he couldn't comprehend the thought of him being there for them outside of the case, the mission. He was also in pain – that took precedent over everything.

Superman was back with the kids now, picking up Batman's cape to better cover them all. His hand remained where it was after that, gripping a corner of it as if to ground himself. Bruce ripped his eyes away from the display.

Robin did his best to help Batman to the car, his body slumping into the driver's seat. Robin jumped into the passenger seat and called Alfred immediately, telling him of their situation. Bruce's vision started blacking out again and this time he didn't try to fight it.

By the time they were back in the cave and Bruce was conscious again, it must've been around three in the morning. Alfred was hard at work removing the bullet from his chest, a soft clinking noise to the side telling him he'd done just that. There was only stitching left to do.

Dick still hadn't said anything to him since he woke up which was strange for him, seeing as he was normally such a chatterbox. His pack leader was shot, though, so he could've just been traumatized.

“Dick,” said Bruce, “are you alright?”

Dick was still sporting his Robin outfit, sans the domino mask. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes were trained on the floor in front of him.

“Why couldn't Clark come back with us?” Dick asked.

Bruce exhaled, taking a moment to mentally prepare himself. “Kal has no reason to be in Gotham.”

“You asked him to help!” accused Dick, his scent souring by the moment. He finally made eye contact with Bruce then and he could tell that there were frustrated tears welling up in his eyes.

“I did.”

“Then… you – you can't just send him away,” Dick said, his voice faltering as he lost confidence.

“What I say is final,” said Bruce, stopping to suck in a deep breath as Alfred finished stitching his wound. “Metahumans have no place in Gotham. It just gets more dangerous.”

“We can handle that!”

“And if they bring a weapon I don't know how to deal with?” Bruce asked. “What if I can't protect you from whatever it is?”

Dick sputtered. “Th-then we can handle it! Superman helps us!”

“I don't disagree that he is helping with this case,” Bruce said, his scent beginning to deepen even while still partially in the suit. His scent was always so overwhelming, so thick, that having it hidden by the batsuit always helped him think. “But maybe I was incorrect in my risk assessment. Superman shouldn't be in Gotham.”

“You can't send him away,” pleaded Dick, tears finally falling down his round cheeks. “You can't.”

“You're a child , Dick,” Bruce cut in, his voice firm and unyielding. “What I say is final.”

His scent fully overpowered the room at that point, the thick and pungent odor making Dick reel back in surprise. The beta stared at him defiantly once more before high tailing it out of the cave, his boots smacking against the floor perhaps a bit too harshly.

“Well.” Alfred sat back from his spot applying ointment to Bruce's stitches. He had long since allowed whatever would happen between Bruce and Dick happen without intervention. He deemed it growing pains. “I believe that went as well as it could have. Please excuse me, Master Bruce.”

After a full night of some much needed sleep (about three hours), Bruce was back to sifting through files. He just needed to put enough evidence together to give to Lois Lane for her to write an exposé on both Lex and Falcone. It was easier now that he knew where to look, but not by much.

Business proposals, grant renewals, construction permits; anything and everything was necessary. He needed this case to be over.

Clark's face kept flashing in his mind, his confused and hurt expression. Bruce kept mulling over in his mind whether he was right or not, but then he kept pushing that thought aside. It was Gotham and Superman shouldn't be there. Plain and simple.

He only needed to help with the Metropolis side of things, where Lex had to be more covert and couldn't just have a kryptonite gun out in the open.

Then that moment flashed in his mind. Had he been a split second later, or he hadn't seen the gun at all. Clark could be dead. Clark would be dead. It was haunting him how much that thought was affecting him.

They were friends. Partners. It made sense.

But the bone deep, chilling fear at not having him around to call out to when needed was terrible.

It was unthinkable, not having him there. Their bodies weren't capable of bonding in the way that alphas and omegas could, but the body was a funny thing. Whether they could be chemically compatible sometimes didn't even matter. His inner alpha felt the same yearning that it would if Clark were an omega in trouble, and that was terrifying.

Bruce hadn’t meant to become attached, but after enough time denying it he was realizing that his body was missing Clark's scent. He was too angry at Superman for what happened the day before that Kal never got the chance to accidentally brush hands with him, or adjust his cape, or feel his pulse even though he could hear it just the same, or just any excuse in general to leave his scent behind on Bruce. And his body was missing it.

Fuck.

It took him a while to realize that he had completely zoned out staring at a document related to Lex Luthor's recent patents. One was for his new perfume and Bruce really needed to study it further, but his mind could only handle so much. At the nine hour mark he needed a moment to breathe.

It was around six and he had yet to be interrupted by Dick. That wasn't entirely unheard of, as the boy could've just been doing homework, but it had been the majority of the day. Normally he did homework in the cave anyways.

“Alfred,” Bruce said into his earpiece, the easiest way to reach the man while he was down in the cave. “Have you seen Dick today?”

“Ah, Master Bruce,” said Alfred, “I haven't seen the young master. However, I believe he said he might have had business in, where was it?” A moment, and then Alfred spoke with clear mirth in his voice. “Metropolis. He's quite busy, you know.”

Bruce stared into the blank screen in front of him, his own face staring back at him as if mocking him. After blowing out a calming breath he spoke again.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

That was how he found himself at Clark Kent's apartment, politely knocking on the wood door. His ribs protested the movement but there was nothing he could do about that. He hoped his bandages could hold up on the trip home, though.

He heard a young voice yelling not to answer it which was answered with a cheery, “I'm answering the door!”

Bruce mentally steeled himself for what was to come, but nothing could've prepared him for the scene before him. Clark swung the door open, a bright grin on his face. His curls were unruly like he had no time to calm them into their usual messy placement, and his glasses were crooked on his face. Dick was hanging off of him like a monkey, his hands locked together in front of Clark's throat in a way that would've choked anyone other than Superman. He was dangling off the man presumably hiding from Bruce, but after he started slipping he scrambled up Clark's back until he could hook his legs around the man's midsection.

It was terribly endearing. It also made Bruce's heart skip its usual calm, careful rhythm.

“Hey, Bruce,” said Clark, “we're happy to see you here!”

“No we're not!” yelled Dick, poking his head out from behind Clark's for just a moment before hiding again. “Go away!”

“Hello, Clark,” said Bruce, a tinge settling in his gut from how Dick was acting. He had never been angry at Bruce until now, so it was confusing. He wasn't sure how to deal with an angry Dick Grayson. “We need to go home, chum.”

“No!” Dick still refused to resurface from where he was. “You go, I stay!”

“That's not how this works, Dick.”

Clark tapped at Dick's hands, making the boy lift his head up again. “You should go back with Bruce. He came all the way here just to bring you home.”

“We're staying!” Dick was fully glaring at him now. “You can apologize to Uncle Clark and then go if you want.”

Bruce raised a brow at that, locking eyes with Clark as he did so. Clark shrugged as if to say don't look at me.

“Bruce has broken ribs because of me, I don't think he has anything to apologize for,” said Clark.

“What do you want me to apologize for, Dick?”

“For kicking Su – Clark out! You said he can't go back to Gotham,” said Dick, his cheeks rosy from how heated he was getting.

Bruce needed to diffuse the situation, seeing as Dick's pheromones were starting to seriously invade Clark's living space. Bruce was doing his best to hold back his own scent, but Bruce Wayne being known for his scent meant he couldn't exactly use scent blockers.

“Wait, what?” Clark looked at Dick and then back to Bruce, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Are you kicking me off of the case, Bruce?”

Clark was usually so good at hiding his scent that sometimes Bruce forgot he even had one, but now his scent was rapidly filling the small space they were in. He was confused and upset, a strong combination for scents, and Bruce could do nothing but hold his breath for a moment to compartmentalize the smells in his mind.

“I need a moment alone with Dick,” said Bruce, carefully avoiding eye contact with either one of them. “Please, Clark.”

Clark sighed and nodded, carefully setting Dick down in front of him. “I'll um, be in the kitchen.”

Dick stared at the ground as Clark left the two of them, his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing his Superman pajamas again, of course. They were getting a little small on him and Bruce made a mental note to buy him a new set.

“We need to go home, Dick,” said Bruce, “Alfred is waiting for us, he'll have dinner finished soon.”

At the mention of Alfred, Dick seemed to hesitate. “But… I – I'm happy here. You're here now, so stay.”

“This isn't our home, we need to let Clark have his own space.” Bruce ran his fingers through Dick's hair, his strong scent rubbing onto the beta as he did so. Dick was so used to it by now he didn't even react except his shoulders relaxing a bit.

“He should come,” tried Dick, his voice small and unsure, “I – I want you both there.”

Hm.

Bruce wasn't sure what to say to that. It seemed Dick had begun imprinting on Clark as well, whether he realized it or not. Children formed parental bonds easily with their parents, of course, but after losing one or both, they had a harder time forming ties to people. Bruce was never able to fully bond to Alfred, but it was there. Bruce also knew that Dick was slowly bonding with him, because he was an alpha and it was easy for him to feel a pull to a paternal bond, but he wasn't aware that it was possible for Dick to begin forming one so quickly. And with Clark .

“If I allow Clark to come back to Gotham under strict guidelines, will you come back to the manor?” asked Bruce.

Dick smiled, his scent brightening up. “Not just for the case?”

Bruce nodded.

“Okay!”

After a moment Bruce cleared his throat, calling Clark back into the room.

“So… how'd it go guys?” Clark asked, his hands behind his back in an anxious display.

“You can come to Gotham, but I will have guidelines for you to follow. I will send you an email detailing everything, don't worry.” Bruce explained.

It had the same effect on Clark as it did Dick, as he immediately smiled and his scent sweetened. Bruce pressed his fingernails deep into his hand to try and ground himself against it.

“Sounds good to me!” He kneeled down next to Dick, holding up a hand for the boy to high five. He did, of course.

Once he was standing again, Dick walked over to Bruce finally. He grabbed onto Bruce's pant leg, rubbing his cheek into Bruce's side. It felt like knives because of how it pulled his bandages over his wound but it also made him relieved, so it canceled out the pain.

“Thank you for taking care of him, Kal,” said Bruce.

Clark smiled at him again. Always smiling . “Alfred did most of the work. I'm happy to have him over.”

Dick pulled at Bruce's shirt - sending immeasurable pain through his ribs - to get his attention. Bruce stared down at him and waited for whatever he was going to say.

"Can Clark come over for dinner?" he whispered, one hand cupping his mouth away from Clark like that would stop Superman from hearing him.

"Not tonight," said Bruce, which made Dick's shoulders droop in disappointment. Bruce narrowed his eyes for a moment, turning his attention to Clark. He was standing there with an awkward smile, clearly unsure of what he should be doing. "Come to the manor in two days for dinner. I will have everything set for our next step in the case."

"Oh," said Clark, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, hey, I can't say no to that. I'll be there!"

They stood there for a moment just staring at each other before Dick yawned at Bruce's side.

“Well,” said Bruce, “we'll be leaving now. I'll be in correspondence with you, Clark.”

Clark nodded, weight bouncing back from his toes to his heels. “Sure, cool.”

Maybe he should’ve left then, but Bruce felt something itching under his skin. He had a suspicion that it was due to the fact that Clark still hadn't scent marked him, and that coupled with the fact that he made both Dick and Clark upset had weighed on him enough that Bruce felt the need to do something.

He stepped forward, away from Dick's loose grip on his pant leg, and he brushed his left cheek against Clark's right. He followed the motion down to the man's neck, his scent so much fuller there. Bruce could feel his scent smothering the other alpha, his pheromones sufficiently drowning out any other smells on the man. He refrained from touching their necks together, but even with just his cheek he had completely covered Clark in his scent.

Those types of scent markings were normal for a couple, mostly parents, to give to one another. That way they smelled of each other and could easily cover their children in either of their scents.

Dick was fast to grab onto his pants the second Bruce stepped back but he carefully remained silent.

Clark's face exploded into a blush, a rosy color covering everywhere from his cheeks to his ears to down his neck. His pupils seemed to dilate as well, and where his hand was holding his door open Bruce could hear a slight creaking. His door handle was definitely bent.

“Goodnight, Kent.”

The man nodded, the hand not currently breaking his door handle coming up to touch his cheek. “B – bye, guys!”

He waved at them and Bruce finally started to walk Dick down the hallway away from the other alpha. In the distance he heard a final quiet, “gosh.”

Chapter Text

Dinner at the Wayne manor was always Clark's favorite part of learning Batman's identity.

Bruce was, unsurprisingly, unsure about whether he could trust Superman. It took a solid year of working together before Bruce came to Clark one day, report in hand of his risk assessment booklet pertaining to the exchanging of their identities, and peeled back the cowl. He then apologetically told Clark that he'd known his identity since the second time they met.

That was before Dick came into the picture, and Bruce had kept Dick away from the league entirely until the day Clark had gone to the cave with him. Clark and Bruce had had dinner together on various occasions, usually just a random weekend that Clark was over, and Alfred always welcomed him the same.

Dinner with a ten year old that seemed to have everything in the world to talk about was Clark's new favorite, obviously.

“And then – then I said, hey! You can't do that!” Dick was rattling on about his story of his classmate picking on someone from the day before. “And he threatened me, yeah? But I can handle myself!”

“You didn't hurt him, right Dick?” Clark asked.

Bruce was silently sipping from his mug. His Superman mug. Clark was going to have a heart attack.

“Nah,” he said, “he's just a dumb baby alpha. That's what dad said, can you believe that? Baby alpha!”

Beside him, Bruce choked on his drink. Black coffee splattered on the table in front of him, his futile attempts at stopping the drink from spilling only further causing a mess. Alfred was quick to sweep in and wipe down both Bruce and the table.

“Uh… B? You okay?” asked Dick, his brows creased with worry.

“Yep! Bruce is just fine,” Clark choked out, “I think his coffee was a little hot. I uh – used my heat vision on it.”

Dick burst into a fit of giggles, his hands covering his chest as if the laughing was going to take him out. It was endlessly endearing and Clark wished he could focus on that more and not the way Bruce's scent was going haywire next to him.

Bruce was panicking internally and Clark could tell because of the way his scent soured, cleared, soured again, then spiked with something citrus. The other alpha always had such a good grasp of his scent other than just having so much of it, but it seemed like being called dad was enough to have him reduced to whatever he was right now.

“It's hot, huh, Bruce?” Clark tried.

Bruce shot him a glare from where he was desperately trying to pull off his ruined turtleneck. The hot coffee couldn't have felt good on his skin and Alfred carefully took the garment from him once he was finished fighting the sleeves.

“Super,” he answered.

The scent of panicked alpha was finally clearing out of the room, but Bruce still looked frazzled. It wasn't a look Clark was used to on his normally perfectly in control friend, but it was–dare he say–adorable to see. Adorable might not have been the best word to describe him, though, newly shirtless and hair mussed from fighting his clothing. Clark was quick to look away even as warmth crept up his neck. Rao, his rut might be even earlier than expected.

“Um,” Clark cleared his throat, knowing that Bruce was as good as useless at figuring out any topics to bring up. “That was a great story, Dick. Thank you for sharing.”

“No problem!” Dick beamed at him.

It took some time for Bruce to pull himself together, including putting on a new shirt. It was a worn black tank which in contrast to Bruce's turtleneck, did little to conceal the skin of his arms. Clark, again, carefully tried to avert his gaze away.

“We'll enter the club in two days,” Bruce finally said, laying out files on the dinner table. Alfred had already cleared it of their meals and deemed it appropriate for unsavory activities. “I know that time is of the essence now that we know they might have children inside, but we can't be too rash.”

Clark felt his jaw tighten, but he forced himself to relax. It was smart to be careful. It was.

Bruce gestured to the files on the table and continued.

“All of these pertain to dealings between Falcone and Luthor. They tie back to the new perfume, their construction efforts in the club, the unlawful use of kryptonite, and the child trafficking.” Bruce packed it all back into a manila envelope and held it out to Clark. “Tell Lois to publish an exposé on the day we're in the club. Luthor will be too busy dealing with authorities and the fallout to have time to deal with us cracking down on it. At that point, it won't be his priority.”

Clark grabbed the envelope and nodded. “Will the GCPD be involved? I know you mentioned them being bought out by Falcone.”

“Falcone will be behind bars by the time we finish, I have Catwoman keeping tallies on his whereabouts so he's taken into custody when the article is published,” Bruce answered easily, “our top priority when we enter the club is to take out any metahumans or chemical weapons there might be before Gordon goes inside. He's bringing a small team of officers he knows he can trust, so they won't have the manpower to back each other.”

Clark really wished he could say he was a better man and spent the entire time listening to Bruce and paying attention to only what he was saying, but the way the other alphas shirt was cut was, frankly, obscene. He'd never seen Bruce wear sleeveless his whole time knowing him and while it was an amazing sight to see, he really needed to pay closer attention to their very important case.

“And I get to sit at the batcomputer;” Dick announced proudly, pulling the attention back to himself.

“Master Dick and I will be at your beck and call,” added Alfred, “please do refrain from any further medical emergencies.”

“Dully noted,” muttered Bruce. He pulled out a separate file–from where, Clark had no idea–and handed it to Clark. “Luthor is unveiling his perfume to high end stores in Metropolis tomorrow as a sort of first look. A test run, probably. Don't do anything unwise.”

“Golly–that soon?” he grabbed the file from a puzzled looking Bruce. “Okay, I'll be sure to watch out for any weird behaviors from citizens.”

Dick was whispering golly to Alfred off to the side and the butler was kindly explaining the meaning. Kansas charm never seemed to land well in Gotham, unfortunately.

The rest of their dinner was fantastic. Dick showed Clark his new acrobatics skills, Bruce spoke about his new updates he was implementing to his equipment, and even Alfred was showing him a new tea he brought home from his last visit to England. His chest felt full, the same it did when he would visit his ma and pa at home–but this, the tiny pack here in the Wayne manor was so different and yet so precious to him.

When he finally said goodbye at the end of the night–no, Dick. Clark can't stay the night. He has work tomorrow–Dick jumped into his arms and demanded to be thrown in the air so he could reach the ceiling. After he was squarely back in Clark's arms, he brushed his wrist against Clark's hair. The subtle scent of beta dusted off on him, the smell beginning to fade as soon as it was placed. Clark felt a suspicious wetness at his eyes when he placed the boy back on the ground but he righted himself, quick to bypass whatever feelings were creeping up on him. Now wasn't the time.

“Thank you for coming to dinner, Kal,” Bruce said, a ghost of a smile gracing his features.

“I would never say no to dinner with your pack,” answered Clark automatically, which was as close as he would get to any sort of confession at the moment.

Bruce nodded and stood at the entryway of the manor with Clark, as if to send him off. This usually didn't happen. Clark would say bye, Bruce would give some sort of noncommittal sound to show that he heard him and go back to work, and Clark would leave. But Bruce stayed. He stood, all naked arms and overwhelming scent–was his scent getting stronger? Was he–and he stayed. Like the moon drew the tides, Clark felt compelled forward by Bruce's presence.

Much the same as Bruce had done to him two days prior, he leaned into the other alpha’s space and brushed his cheek against Bruce's neck. Not neck to neck–that would be too much, of course–but it doused them both in each other's scents. Intimate, close, safe.

When he drew back he took in the look on Bruce's face, his wide eyes and cheeks tinted rose, he felt compelled to close the distance between them. To kiss, to touch. He was close, closer than before–he couldn't even tell who between the two of them was moving closer. It was probably him. A breath away, an inch and their lips would touch.

Bruce pulled away, his expression clear of whatever feelings it showed before. His lips were pressed in a thin line before he spoke.

“Have a goodnight, Clark.”

Everything felt strange.

Ever since arriving to work he'd felt… off. Unsteady.

He tried to chalk it up to the way Bruce dismissed him the night before, but he was usually a champion when it came to discouraging bat-related encounters. Clark was used to Bruce paying him no mind–that couldn't be the issue. Maybe. He was trying to grapple with whatever alpha feelings were clawing their way to the surface over Bruce, but that was beside the point.

Today he felt wrong. Something beyond his control forcing his body into an almost fight or flight, paranoia itching at his subconscious.

A tried and true method of calming down was always to listen to heartbeats. First Lois, who was sitting just off to the right of him at her own desk. Steady, a little fast from excitement, but fine enough.

Next came his parents. Except they didn't. Kind of. It was foggy, like trying to waft through mist to get to the sound. They were barely coming in, a thump here or there. They weren't distressed, they weren't screaming or in pain, but he just couldn't hear right.

He tried for Bruce. Closer, just over in Gotham. Again, he felt halfway across the world and underwater. His heartbeat was so slow compared to everyone else so that when Clark finally heard a thump it did nothing to quell his paranoia. He wasn't panicking, nothing was wrong, but Clark couldn't hear him.

His breathing was getting a little too quick and soon a hand was placed on his forearm.

“Smallville,” said Lois, his attention solely zeroing in on her instead of the heartbeats he couldn't hear. “You feeling okay?”

Clark jerked his head in a nod and she leveled him with a look that told him she was completely unconvinced.

“I feel weird today,” he admitted, “just… not myself I guess.”

Lois was about to say something when Cat Grant walked by, her blonde curls bouncing with the extra pep in her step she seemed to have. She dragged a hand down Clark's left shoulder as she said, “don't I smell nice today, Clark?”

If he was honest, he didn't smell a damn thing past how awful he felt when she was closer. It seemed the fog in his head grew tenfold with her closer, a queasy feeling inching its way up his throat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lois said, rolling her eyes. “People are going crazy over the new perfume. Luthor gave it to the Planet as a gift or whatever.”

Cat seemed uninterested in their talk and stalked off, leaving Lois with a playful wink and a nod at Clark.

“Wait, Luthor gave us some of his pheromones perfume?” asked Clark.

“Uh huh,” she leaned closer towards him, a speculative look in her eye. “And to some officials, celebrities, blah blah–Clark, you really don't look good.”

Clark gave another jerky nod and this time Lois frowned at the display. He could feel sweat beading at his hairline which did nothing to quell the mounting panic in his chest, but he tried to push the feeling away.

“I–I need to get some air,” he told her, “Lunch. I'm going to lunch.”

“I'll join you,” she said, her voice gentle.

Clark could say he felt slightly better in the diner they ate at, but not by much. Whatever was making him ill wasn't entirely gone, but being outside of the Planet was enough to have him breathing steady again. He could also hear his parents–and Bruce's–heartbeats again, so everything was right again.

“Sorry, Lo,” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don't know what happened to me.”

“It's fine,” she reassured, placing her hand on top of his. He dropped his other hand on top of hers and breathed in the pleasant smell of baked goods. “But you… your scent is strange.”

“Huh?”

“You smell…” Lois paused and her eyebrows creased in thought. “I know that smell–that's Bruce Wayne's scent.”

“You know–”

She leveled him with a look and he shut his mouth. “Clark, anyone who frequents galas knows that smell. Bruce has like, the most recognizable celebrity scent there is.”

Clark felt his cheeks heat up in response to that. “Right.”

“Do you think you feel bad because you're covered in alpha scent?” she asked, “I think we can get some scent neutralizers if we have to.”

“I… don't think that's the issue. But I'll take that into account.” It didn't seem like he was really convincing her of anything, but that was beside the point. Now was as good a time as any, so he pulled out the envelope Bruce gave him from his bag and handed it to her. “These are for you. This is the case we've been working on; Falcone and Luthor are in on it, it spans across Gotham and Metropolis. A real bombshell exposé in here for you.”

Lois grabbed the packet from him and thumbed through a few pages. He continued, “B wants you to publish it tomorrow when we go in to infiltrate the base of operations.”

She smirked at him. “Bats thinks I have a crazy turnaround time, huh?”

Clark grinned back sheepishly. “He knows you can do well under pressure, what can I say?”

There was a fond look in her eye, but her grin slowly melted off her face. Clark was about to ask what was wrong when she squeezed his hand.

“As an investigative reporter, I really need to stop lying to myself,” sighed Lois, a finality in her eyes as she looked at him. Her subtle omega scent seemed sad in how it curled in his nose, a longing he couldn't figure out. “I'm not going to say this in any way that can be misunderstood for both of our sakes. Do you want to mate with me, Clark?”

Clark could feel his brain go offline.

When it rebooted, he tried to give Lois the sweetest smile he could. “W-what?”

She hummed to herself and squeezed his hand again. “It's all good. I can smell when I have to back off and that right there?” She gestured at his neck. “That's about as big a sign as any.”

“What do you–”

“Clark. Only married couples scent mark like that. Bats is a pretty forward guy,” she remarked.

Clark felt his face explode with color. “I don't–” realizing that nothing he said would diffuse the situation, or give Bruce his secret identity back, he only shrugged. “I guess he is.”

Lois smiled at him, sweet and understanding. “Tell your alpha I'll post your story tomorrow. He owes me, though. I'm thinking something big and shiny, seeing as money isn't an issue anymore.”

It was clearly a joke, but Clark still spluttered at that. “My alpha–you can't–Lois!”

Her laughter rang out louder than anything else in the diner at that.

When they got back to the bullpen Clark could barely stand it in there. People had been reapplying the perfume all day, saying that it wore off extremely quick and without a reapplication it was basically useless after an hour. Clark knew it wasn't just the smell that was affecting him, but that wasn't necessarily pleasant on his senses either. Perry could tell how hard of a time Clark was having and promptly sent him home, shortly after yelling that people were barred from wearing the perfume in the building after that. It was strangely sweet.

It also worked out incredibly, as a situation in downtown called his attention away from his sad trek home.

Before he flew off to deal with it, he sent Bruce a quick message.

The perfume is awful, btw. I'll get you a sample to test.

A reply was nearly instantaneous.

Kal. Cave.

Clark heard another scream come from the scene and he sighed.

I can't, I got a situation. 20 min?

He shoved his phone away for later, trying his best to ignore the following five buzzes after that alerting him of Bruce messaging him. He couldn't think about that, not while he was whisking away civilians from a packed Metropolis city square.

The area they were in was remarkably nicer than any part he was used to protecting. No bad pipes to explode, no gas leaks to cause fires. The roads were paved and electrical lines were well maintained. It was… ritzy, to put it simply. And the feeling was bad tenfold as he touched down on the nicely paved asphalt. His senses dulled, a subtle achy pang in the side of his temple.

Superman stood tall in the square, but again he smelled the awful perfume from earlier, the woman he most recently saved having covered herself in it probably only moments before the attack started. Superman helped her to her feet, a winning smile on his face as she ran off to a safer area, but he felt just as discouraged as he had in the Daily Planet.

“Let's all try to calm down,” he tried to diffuse the situation, walking towards the perps with his hands out in front of him. “No need to hurt anyone.”

The perps themselves weren't anything remarkable. One thug with low-level shockwave powers and the others seemed to be normal goons with weapons. Honestly, he wasn't even sure what they were trying to accomplish other than catching his attention. The meta sent out a shockwave towards him but it did little else than just shifting his cape in the wind.

Through everything, even his dulled senses, he could hear the cracking of a comm in their ear. It was undeniably Lex Luthor's voice uttering a, “test it,” before they all activated their weapons. Some had electric batons, some had normal firearms, and another had a stun gun of all things. It was like they knew nothing of the Metropolis protector, but something about it was making Superman weary.

“This is unnecessary,” he said as one of them charged at him, hitting him in the side with an electric baton. It didn't make him go down but… he felt it. Yes, he definitely felt it. Superman winced from a baton. All five of the criminals took in the display and apparently that was their signal to continue.

Superman took down the man with the baton, followed closely by another with the stun gun. He wasn't used to actually dodging, but seeing as he was under extraneous circumstances he was going to try his best. The two men with guns opened fire and while the bullets were pinging off of him like usual, it was hurting. His skin remained impenetrable like usual, but the pain of bullets bouncing off of him was–incomprehensiby–making him stumble backwards.

The civilians who remained in the area gasped at the display, a steady stream of phones rising to capture the battle happening. The battle that wouldn't even be one if he were normal.

Distantly, he heard his comm going off. The one reserved for League business or–more accurately–just Bruce. He couldn't deal with it at the moment.

He took out another man with a slam of his body, his movements growing sluggish. Prioritizing the guns, Superman activated his heat vision to melt through the weapon. Except it took–time. It felt like hours before his vision filled with red, even if it were only a second or two it should have been instantaneous. Because of the delay he couldn't aim correctly and instead of only hitting the gun he accidentally sliced through the man's upper thigh.

“Augh!” The man was screaming as he fell to the ground, his hands gripping his leg.

“Shit,” cursed Superman, already flying to his side. When the last man tried to hit him with his baton he grabbed onto his forearm, mindful of his grip, and threw the man at a nearby patch of grass. “I'm sorry,” he said desperately, holding the man as he writhed.

He wasn't used to someone reacting like this to his heat vision; Bruce had asked him once to cauterize a slash wound from a sword, arguably deeper than the wound he was looking at, and all Bruce had done was grunt in pain. However, maybe that much from Batman was more than enough to warrant this response from someone.

More civilians crowded around, whispering to each other and continuing to film the whole event. Superman, not for the first time in his life, wasn't sure what to do. He blew cold breath on the wound to try to help the pain and that calmed the man down slightly before he promptly passed out from the pain.

“Uh–I–” Superman looked around, his brows creased with worry. He could faintly hear sirens in the distance but the closer everyone got, the worse he felt. His sense of smell was on high alert and also foggy at the same time. Every breath felt labored, his head felt faint, and all he could think of was getting out before he joined the poor perp on the ground. “I have to–go. I have to go.”

Slower than he would've liked, Superman shot into the air. The further he got from Metropolis the better he felt but he didn't know if that made him feel better or worse. That was his home and everything was so confusing. He needed–he needed Bruce. His alpha, someone who would keep him safe.

Landing in the cave felt so good he actually sobbed with relief. He could smell himself–the fear he was radiating. Normally he had perfect control over his scent, a strange quirk that Kryptonians had, but now with his body was out of wack and his scent was all over the place.

He just–he really needed–

“Clark,” Bruce's voice was near him, skirting the edge of frantic as he took in the crumpled form of Superman. “Kal, fuck, are you alright?”

Clark was nodding, distantly aware of the fact that he was still laying on the ground. He started to pick himself up, his arms shaking with the effort. He felt far better than he had in Metropolis but whatever has gotten to him had lasting effects.

Bruce's hands were on him then, helping him up and slipping his arms under Clark's dead weight. Somehow, in only the way that Batman could, Bruce lifted Clark into his arms. Rao, he was strong.

He laid him down on a cot in the cave, his hands quickly cupping Clark's face when they were free.

“You have no visible injuries,” said Bruce, concerning etched into every line of his face. “The poisoning isn't too extensive, however I can tell that it depowered you at least a bit. How do you feel?”

Clark heard about half of whatever he said, too busy pressing his cheek into Bruce's hand. He nosed his way over to Bruce's pulsepoint, his intense, brilliant scent covering every square inch of Clark's face the moment he got in contact with it.

“Feel s’okay,” he slurred, slightly scent drunk. “You said–poison. What’re you talking about?”

Bruce seemed to realize just what his hands were doing and he pulled back, instead settling them on the edge of Clark's cape. Clark felt himself whine at the loss. Gosh, Superman whining was not professional.

“Luthor sent Bruce Wayne a sample of his new line, seeing as I was such a nuisance to him last time,” he explained, “I didn't really expect that, but I suppose I would be good publicity.

“Alfred and I tested it after looking through some of the patents for it. We found aerosolized kryptonite inside, but because of the low concentration it must be applied every hour or so. They force the consumer to do this because the scent enhancer functions with the same time limit.”

Bruce turned around to flick on the yellow sun light he kept in the medbay. Clark sighed at the addition, his bruises from the bullets healing.

“We found that in the patent it included using rock crystals to add an element of earth to it–ironically, a non earth element–” he continued, brushing some of the sweat away from Clark's forehead. “When I researched how they did this I believe they steep the perfume with kryptonite. They must not have a large supply, otherwise the concentration would be higher.”

“You have it all,” Clark said, grinning up at his companion.

“I do,” Bruce replied, his lips quirking into a small smirk. “And I assure you it's safely accounted for.”

“I believe you,” he sighed and shut his eyes. “I don't know how Luthor got his hands on it, but that must be where the bullet came from.”

Bruce grunted in agreement.

A moment passed between the two of them, a shared silence that they both seemed to feel content in. Finally, Bruce broke it. “You should stay out of Metropolis for now,” he said. “Diana has been alerted that it's unsafe for you there for now. She can watch over to make sure nothing goes awry.”

Clark hummed in acknowledgment, “I hate to leave the city, but it should be just for a day,” he opened his eyes to meet Bruce's, “right?”

Bruce nodded.

“Then it's alright. Tomorrow we'll take care of the club and this mess will be taken care of,” Clark said.

“After you soak up plenty of sun, but yes, that is correct.” Bruce amended.

“Yep,” he said, popping his lips on the “p”. Clark grabbed Bruce's hand that was hovering near him but for some reason seemed hesitant to touch him. Bruce's heartbeat went off rhythm for a moment before resuming its usual pace, his scent spiking with something sweet. “You can touch me, Bruce. Please. I was… scared–today.”

“If you insist,” accepted Bruce, his hand cupping the side of Clark's face again.

“Dick,” Clark said somewhat deliriously, “he called you dad.”

“He did,” said Bruce.

“How do you feel about that?” He tried to decipher Bruce's expression but he was unsuccessful at it. He was a brick wall when he wanted to be.

Bruce hummed, his thumb grazing along Clark's cheek as he thought. “I…” he stopped, his brows creased together. “I will accept whatever role he wants me to take in his life.”

“Okay,” Clark blinked owlishly at him. “But how do you feel?”

Bruce stared at him, clearly thinking as he did so. Clark couldn't look away from the way his lips parted, about to speak but for once unsure of his words. “I'm grateful that he's comfortable with me.”

Clark smiled, big and dopey, and closed his eyes. “That's awesome, Bruce.”

Whatever was happening between the two of them, Clark wasn't about to question it at the moment. His friend was a comforting presence and he filled his lungs with the powerful scent surrounding him. He couldn't be sure of how Bruce thought of him, not now–maybe not ever, but he could hope–but for the moment he knew his body was seeking comfort in its alpha. His alpha.