Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7816777.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, M/M
  Fandom:
      Batman_-_All_Media_Types, Young_Justice_(Cartoon)
  Relationship:
      Dick_Grayson/Bruce_Wayne, Jason_Todd_&_Damian_Wayne, Minor_or_Background
      Relationship(s)
  Character:
      Dick_Grayson, Bruce_Wayne, Damian_Wayne, Jason_Todd, Helena_Wayne, Alfred
      Pennyworth, Roy_Harper, Lian_Harper, Talia_al_Ghul, Goliath, Tim_Drake
  Additional Tags:
      Alpha/Beta/Omega_Dynamics, Kid_Fic, Mpreg, Sibling_Rivalry, Babies,
      Domestic_Fluff, Canonical_Character_Death, Kidnapping, Parent-Child
      Relationship, Parenthood, Difficult_children, Scenting, Bat_Family,
      DaddyBats, Age_Difference, probably_more_but_i'm_having_a_brainfart
  Series:
      Part 4 of Mamabird_Universe
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-20 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 21383
****** (please come home) ******
by Laroyena
Summary
     An AU of this_omegaverse_fic, wherein Damian is Dick and Bruce's son
     and was kidnapped by Talia as a baby.
     This is what would have happened if Talia's plan had failed.
     (Batman Omegaverse; Dick returns home with Damian, and Bruce gets to
     see his little boy grow up.)
Notes
     Ugggh okay so the Harry Potter AU BruDick fic I'm working on is
     taking sooo long to put together. Plottier fics are so hard to write!
     Here's the domestic ridiculousness I ended up working on whenever I
     got tired of making sure things fit together (and after last week
     where I was at Boston Comic Con and things were CRAZZZZY.)
     Basically what it says on the tin: this fic is an AU of an AU where
     Talia failed to take Damian after the fire.
     Which pretty much turns this into a post-mpreg Brudick family fic,
     but reading the original fic definitely helps!
***** Damian *****
Chapter Summary
     “Is that—my word—” Alfred stepped back and blinked down at the
     fussing baby in Dick’s arms. Dick shifted his grip and let Damian
     bury his nose into his neck where his scent was strongest, though the
     baby kept a wary eye on Alfred all the same. “Master Dick, is this
     baby…”
     “Yeah,” Dick grinned. “That obvious, huh?”
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The best part about coming home was the look on Damian’s little face when they
walked into the manor. It was like the last two years hadn’t even happened: it
still had the same musty Wayne smell; the faint elegance of Alfred’s cooking;
Bruce’s own familiar scent. Jason’s unfamiliar one, too, but a young alpha had
little to no effect on the overall composition of the space.
“Home sweet home, Dami,” Dick whispered to the baby curled in the crook of his
arm. Damian stuck his fist into his mouth and looked about curiously. He’d
perked up since their rocky taxi ride home, where he’d spent the entire half
hour screaming and crying. He’d exhausted himself by the end, and had only
flailed half-heartedly when Dick had lifted him into his arms and given their
driver a hefty tip.
“Master Dick?” Alfred appeared in the hallway. The normally unruffled beta went
wide-eyed at the sight of his former charge standing awkwardly at the front
door. With a baby.
A baby whose first reaction upon seeing a stranger was to puff up his chest and
spread himself across Dick’s shoulders, like some year-old infant could offer
any protection for his mother.
“Alfred,” Dick smiled wobbily. The strange ache that had started up in his gut
upon seeing Gotham City intensified: longing and sadness and relief all at
once. He took a few tentative steps before he was pretty much launching himself
into Alfred’s arms, Damian and all, and the baby squawked indignantly at the
sudden press of bodies everywhere. “Oh god, Alfred.”
“Is that—my word—” Alfred stepped back and blinked down at the fussing baby in
Dick’s arms. Dick shifted his grip and let Damian bury his nose into his neck
where his scent was strongest, though the baby kept a wary eye on Alfred all
the same. “Master Dick, is this baby…”
“Yeah,” Dick grinned. “That obvious, huh?”
“He looks just like Master Bruce as an infant,” Alfred said faintly. He didn’t
even bother looking indignant or surprised. Of course not. Of everyone they
knew, only Alfred had known the full extent of his and Bruce’s relationship—and
despite disapproving, he’d never forsaken his loyalty to the family.
Alfred held out his arms, and Dick passed a clearly unhappy Damian over to him.
The baby made a keen whining noise and reached back towards his mother, but
Alfred seemed accustomed to temperamental infants and didn't take offense.
“His name’s Damian,” Dick said. He took off his coat and hung it in the closet.
“About thirteen-months-old now.” After another considering beat where butler
and baby stared at each other, Dick said: “Bruce doesn’t know.”
“He certainly will soon,” Alfred said, voice dry. Damian, who seemed to have
decided that the beta wasn’t a threat, let Alfred heave him onto his hip and
carry him towards the kitchen. Dick swallowed around the lump in his throat.
Good old Alfred. It helped to have these little reminders that Wayne Manor was
still the same. Was still familiar. Especially after the scare Dick had just
had, that awful event that had finally, definitively sent him running home.
--
“Dick,” Bruce said immediately upon walking through the door. His pupils blew
wide in instinct and anger and longing, and Dick hadn’t any illusions that he
could hide his presence. Not with how sensitive they were to each other’s
scents.
And seeing Bruce cut a handsome figure at the door and smelling good enough to
eat—well, Dick had spent too much time missing him to feign cool. He ran right
into his alpha’s arms and pressed his face into his neck, nothing but Bruce,
Bruce, Bruce echoing in his head. He shivered when Bruce dropped his briefcase
and cupped the back of his head, carding possessive fingers through his hair.
God, he’d missed this. Missed this heady feeling of want and comfort, of the
way Bruce could envelope him so easily and make him feel safe.
“You came home,” and Bruce sounded bewildered. He ran his hand down Dick’s back
and nuzzled his cheek. “You’re—Dick, you’re home?”
“Lost for words, B?” Dick laughed. He arched into Bruce’s touch with a low
purr, because this was instinctual too. They’d been apart for too long, and
like a stretched-out rubber-band they were driven to snap back together. Bruce
could’ve shoved him up against the wall and tugged off his pants, and Dick
would’ve just let him. He would’ve eagerly spread his legs again without a care
for propriety, because Bruce was here and he was real and Dick could smell and
feel him.
“Mama?” Damian’s voice broke through his haze, and Bruce froze. Dick let his
eyes flutter shut for a moment. He’d hoped to put this off as long as possible,
but that was illogical. Rip the bandage right off. He turned and saw Alfred
with Damian in his arms. The baby, for once in his life, wasn’t focused on
Dick. He was far more interested in the alpha curled possessively around him.
“Mama,” Damian repeated decisively, and reached a hand out. Seeing as Bruce was
still looking wide-eyed at the infant, his scent muddled and mixed, Dick took
initiative. He untangled himself and took the cuddly baby into his arms. Damian
immediately clung to his neck.
“Dick,” Bruce’s voice was faint. In no small part devastated, though at
Damian’s existence or at missing out on this part of Dick’s life he didn’t
know. He stepped cautiously towards them, and Alfred quietly excused himself.
“You can’t have… is this why…”
“This is Damian,” Dick said, chin raised. Decisive, commanding, strong. All
necessary elements when talking back to the Bat. “I’m not letting you take him
from me.”
Bruce flinched back like he’d been slapped. “I would never.”
“Good,” Dick said, clutching his son tighter. He pressed his nose into Damian’s
soft baby hair and let the sweet scent calm his beating heart. “Because you try
anything like that, and I’m running away again. He’s my son, Bruce.”
The alpha hesitated a second time, but finally took the last few steps so he
was within touching distance. Unlike with Alfred, Damian looked at Bruce with
the same eager curiosity he’d exhibited upon entering the manor. It was Bruce’s
scent. Despite having never meeting the man in his life, Damian was hardwired
to recognize his father no matter what.
“Oh Dick,” and Bruce’s voice was gruff with guilt.
Dick’s lip trembled.
They were at an awkward standstill. Dick needed Bruce to get his guilt-ridden
head out of his ass and step up to the plate, but he wasn’t sure if the alpha
even could.
And then Damian reached out and patted Bruce’s neck with an awkward hand.
“Hi,” the baby said, and Bruce’s face broke out into an involuntary smile.
“Hi Damian,” he said, voice soft and warm. Despite his apprehension, Dick felt
the tense stone in his gut soften at the gentle way Bruce cradled Damian’s hand
in his own. “I’m your father.”
Damian turned and looked at Dick as if asking for confirmation. Dick nodded and
then carefully passed Damian over into Bruce’s arms. Bruce, who held Damian
like something fragile and precious against him, who leaned down and pressed
his nose to Damian’s soft baby hair and sighed.
“He’s beautiful,” he whispered. Damian didn’t squirm or cry at all; just stared
and stared and stared at this alpha that smelled like him, as if he couldn’t
get enough out of looking at Bruce’s face.
Something in Dick finally relaxed. That part of him that had been scared that
Bruce would reject Damian, would chase them both out of the Manor, and perhaps
Dick should have stayed with Roy after all.
He could finally let go.
--
The Teen Titans descended upon him like wolves once he stepped out of the zeta
tube, because had he realized how long it's been since he'd just up and
disappeared? Any fury immediately melted, however, when they spotted the baby
carrier in his hands.
“Oh my god,” Donna smiled at the sleepy Damian blinking up at her from his
swaddle of blankets. “He’s so cute! He’s—he’s yours, Dick?”
“Yeah,” Dick allowed. He’d already chosen to come home, which meant he’d chosen
to bring himself out of hiding. Bring Damian out of hiding. “He is.”
Donna tried tickling Damian’s chin and got bitten instead. Thankfully for
everyone, she took it in stride and laughed it off. “Woah! Strong little guy,
isn’t he?”
Apart from all the gushing, Dick noticed Wally staring at Damian with a
furrowed brow. When the conversation died down, he finally said, almost
tentatively, “Doesn’t he—he looks just like—”
The girls gave him a look, as if daring him to say it aloud.
Wally, who never backed down from anything, continued, “He’s the Batman’s,
isn’t he?”
Dick blinked rapidly and looked down at a far more awake, far fussier Damian.
He unbuckled him from his carrier and put a pacifier into his mouth before he
could start fussing for real.
“Wally,” Kory sighed, and Kid Flash put his hands up.
“What? Someone had to say it!”
“He is,” Dick overrode him before he could go on a rant. “And it’s fine.
No—seriously, it’s fine.”
“He’s your guardian,” Wally almost shouted. Only Dick’s glare daring him to
raise his voice around the baby kept his volume reasonable. “He’s, what,
fifteen years older than you? Roy, back me up here!”
“I’m not really qualified to say anything,” Roy put his hands up.
“Oh, that’s right,” Wally muttered. “’Cause you were in the know, weren’t you?”
“Wally, can we have this argument later?” Dick felt his own temper flaring. “I
only told Roy because he’s an alpha, and I needed an alpha’s help to avoid
attention overseas. I knew you’d get like this—”
“Because we’re your friends, Rob, and friends look out for one another!”
“—and I’m telling you to mind your own business!” Dick shouted, and immediately
regretted it when Damian spat out his pacifier and began bawling. And then he
was too busy shushing and bouncing Dami in his arms and the girls were busy
tearing Wally a new one for his callousness.
“We’ve already had this conversation,” he grumbled when Roy came up to him
lafter. “Can we just please leave it be?”
“Oh, that’s not what I was going to talk to you about,” Roy shrugged. He waved
at Damian, who stopped crying long enough to glare at him with angry, indignant
eyes. “You know, I almost think Lian misses her fights with this little rascal
here. Do you miss Lian too, Dami?”
Dami honest-to-god hissed at him.
“I take that as a yes,” Roy said. “Look, Rob, you’re right. We’ve gone over
this. Just… you know we’re always here for you, yeah? Me and Lian and the rest
of the Titans. Feel free to crash at ours if you and the Bat fight one too many
times.”
“Noted,” Dick said, feeling pathetically relieved. His friend nodded and patted
him on the back. Dick owed Roy so much for the last few years—for that last
moment in general, when Dick had thought Damian was gone.
He’d never been so relieved when he caught sight of Roy barreling out of the
fiery remains of his apartment, his arms wrapped around a red-faced Damian
screaming like the world had fallen down around his ears.
He’d clutched his baby tight against him, tears falling freely. Cradling this
wriggling, warm living child in his arms, even when Damian started biting.
“Come home,” Roy had said the moment Dick had regained enough of his senses.
He’d been beaten up badly by the League of Shadows, but was conscientious
enough to press his advantage.
For the first time in two years, Dick had finally agreed.
--
Despite all their tension, it took Bruce two entire weeks to finally give in.
Dick had almost forgotten how infuriatingly restrained the older man could be,
and even with all their instincts and closeness and Damian gleefully biting and
eating everything he could get his little hands on—it took Dick picking the
lock to Bruce’s bathroom for anything to happen.
“It’s not safe,” Bruce couldn’t resist scolding him, because what was life
without a bit of immovable disapproval from the Bat? Dick ignored him and
pushed Bruce against the shower wall. Kissed his jawline and trailed hands down
wet skin, impatient and greedy because he’d waited two weeks.
It was one thing to abstain when he was halfway across the world; it was
another to expect him to keep his hands to himself with his alpha within arm’s
reach. Because contrary to what everyone thought, Dick loved having sex with
Bruce. Craved it. He kissed his mouth indulgently for just a moment before
sinking to his knees.
Bruce hissed when Dick nuzzled his half-hard cock. He nipped the sensitive skin
around it before kissing up the shaft, light and fluttery and indulgent when it
grew harder at his touch.
“God—Dick—” Bruce sighed when Dick took him into his mouth. He tasted salty and
musky and like alpha—his alpha. Like intimacy personified, and Dick couldn’t
help but feel his knees go weak at the first taste of pre-cum.
Bruce behaved himself as he usually did. Let Dick tongue his slit and gently
bob his head, even when both of them knew what Bruce really wanted was to just
pummel his mouth. He rocked his hips instead, and they were falling into a
half-remembered rhythm where Dick took whatever he could inside his mouth and
languidly stroked what he couldn’t. Where Bruce tilted his head back and
allowed himself only the most minute of thrusts, so careful and yet
involuntary, wanting to keep Dick as comfortable as possible yet unable to hold
himself back completely.
“Dick,” Bruce finally said, trailing a tender hand up from his chin and through
his wet hair. The omega let go of his cock with a reluctant huff, but let Bruce
affectionately press his cheek against his thigh. “Fuck, Dick, you’re too
good.”
“Uh-huh,” Dick said. He nuzzled Bruce’s wet skin, the side of throbbing cock,
the slight swell where his knot was beginning to form. “How good?”
“Too much,” Bruce said, somewhat strangled. He shut the water off and hauled a
complacent Dick to the bedroom, where Dick—sopping wet and not giving a
damn—grinned and spread his legs. Let Bruce trace a large hand down his own
interested cock, the soft skin of his underdeveloped balls, the wet slide
around his entrance.
Let him press two large fingers inside without preamble, because he needed it.
He’d long learned not to fight too hard against his body’s whims, and what his
omega body wanted it got. He squirmed and sighed at the familiar fullness
inside, the strong Bruce-scent all around him and under him and on the bed
itself.
He sighed again when Bruce slid his cock in, stretching him open and vulnerable
and settling deep enough for his still-half-formed knot to squeeze inside.
“I’m going to knot you from within,” Bruce said, almost conversationally. Dick
laughed, because of course Bruce would try and sound as detached as ever
despite him knowing every one of the alpha’s tells. The shaky, raw edge to
Bruce’s voice, for instance, told him exactly how much he was enjoying himself.
Bruce pressed his face into Dick’s temple and frowned. “Dick, be serious.”
“Go ahead,” Dick laughed again. Licked his lips when they began
moving—grinding, more like, since Bruce was apparently serious when he said he
wanted his knot to swell inside of him. “You can go a bit faster, though.”
“It’s been a while.”
“You think I can’t take it?” Dick rolled his hips demandingly, forcing their
pace to quicken. “Don’t insult me, B.”
Bruce growled and said something along the lines of you brat and then spread
his legs open. Almost bent him in half as they fucked, harder and faster and
so, so good. Hitting him right where he wanted, until Dick felt like a puddle
under the alpha’s skilled hands.
“Bruce,” he said, “Bruce, Bruce, I missed you so much—”
“You left,” the alpha said, almost accusingly. Angrily. He ran aggressive teeth
down Dick’s neck, possessive and threatening despite Dick’s clear submission.
He slung one of Dick’s legs around his shoulders and shortened his thrusts, and
Dick felt his knot starting to tie them together inside. “You left, Dick, and I
had no choice but to let you go. Never should have had you to begin with, and
then—”
“Shh,” Dick stroked his face. Opened his mouth and kissed him greedily and all-
consumingly. Until Dick came with a stuttering breath and held Bruce as he took
what he wanted; as he came long and hard inside him, until Dick felt like he
was burning from the inside out. “Shh, Bruce.”
Bruce panted above him for a few ragged moments before carefully tipping them
onto their sides. He pulled Dick close and pressed his lips to the knuckles of
his lithe hand. “I missed you too. So much.”
“Hmm,” Dick said, and buried his face into Bruce’s neck with a small smile.
“Glad to be home.”
--
“You,” Jason said disbelievingly, “and Bruce?”
“Hello Little Wing,” Dick just waved at him from the couch.
To his utter surprise, Jason bristled like an enraged cat and threw his
backpack onto the floor. He stormed up to Bruce’s study with a shout, “Bruce!”
Despite knowing he should be the responsible one, Dick picked up a sleepy
Damian and hustled upstairs in time to hear Jason tearing Bruce a new one for
knocking Dick up.
“You know who I see do that to omegas, growing up? Criminals in the alley,
Bruce! What the fuck!”
And really, Dick should go in there and rescue Bruce before he melted into a
dark, guilty puddle, but it was almost endearing to watch the younger alpha
defend him. Him, Dick Grayson, the previously untouchable Golden Boy who Jason
had not-so-secretly loathed.
Hopefully he felt better knowing that half of Bruce’s adoration for Dick came
from wanting to fuck him. Not that there weren’t a host of other complicated
issues between the Robins, but that was a big one.
Jason had been the wild card in Dick’s first plans to come home. The young
alpha wasn’t blood and had no real incentive to cater to his adopted alpha’s
biological son; if either Damian or Jason rejected the other, there would be
hell to pay. Thankfully for everyone, the young teen loved children. They
fascinated him, and after he got over being pissed at Bruce enough to start
talking to him again, he took to playing with Damian like a duck to water.
And Damian, being the brave little marshmallow he was, seemed unmoved by the
presence of a strange alpha. Aside from a bit of huffing and puffing—trying to
show Jason up? Dick found it hilarious—he liked Jason well enough.
Thank god. Dick loved Alfred and knew Alfred loved him back, but caring for
Damian took a village. He and Roy had had to alternate to keep the baby happy,
and Dick couldn’t help but feel guilty at the extra strain the butler exhibited
at caring for the infant.
“Heya, Dami-bear,” he heard Jason greet Damian more than once. He’d crouch to
the baby’s level and talk to him about his day, like Damian could understand
anything he was saying. It was the same way Dick talked to him, though, and so
Damian would always beam and babble throughout Jason’s monologue.
“Jay!” he’d sometimes call out when he saw Jason coming, and Robin’s proud
smile was almost worth Bruce somewhat replacing him. It wasn’t Jay’s fault,
though, and so Dick tried to keep his punishments Bruce-only. Unfortunately,
his body didn't understand how he could tease their alpha without completion;
what was the point of riling him up if he wasn't going to sink his cock inside?
Punishment, Dick argued weakly, and Bruce knew it. Respected it often enough,
true, but there was an undercurrent of crackling power there. Bruce could push
him against the Batmobile and fuck him in front of everyone if he wanted. He
could make Dick do the most obscene things by just sweeping a thumb across his
lower-lip and giving him praise. He could have Dick more permanently if he
insisted on that bite the omega still refused to give him, more out of petty
stubbornness than anything.
But he didn't. For all his issues, Bruce let Dick find his own path. That's why
he loved him.
But if Dick wasn't Robin anymore, than who was he?
--
“Nightwing,” he tested. He twirled his escrima sticks around and struck a pose.
Damian gnawed on his sippy cup from his vantage point at the bed, clearly
unimpressed.
“Come on, Dami,” Dick let him finish his juice before scooping him up in his
arms. He tickled Damian’s soft stomach and grinned when the baby let out peals
of surprised laughter. It drew Bruce out from the study, and the alpha stood
awkwardly in the doorway watching.
“Look, Dami,” Dick said, holding the boy close. He turned and pointed at Bruce,
who went still. “Who’s that?”
Damian’s little mouth formed into a moue. He buried his face into Dick’s neck,
but the omega was undeterred.
“Bruce, come here,” he said, and held his free arm out as Bruce approached. He
curled a hand under his shoulder-blades and pressed their sides together. He
kissed the top of Damian’s head. “Dami, who’s this?”
Damian peered at Bruce with one eye.
“Da,” the boy finally said, and just. The look on Bruce’s face. Stunned and
then surprised that he was stunned; a vulnerable expression Dick almost never
saw.
“That’s right,” Dick smiled at his half-shy, mostly stubborn baby bat. “It’s
Daddy, isn’t it?”
Bruce looked a bit embarrassed now, which was just fine with him. He thought
Bruce looked cute like this, even if the Bat would rather jump off a cliff than
admit he could ever look cute. He pressed a warm kiss to Bruce’s cheek. When
Damian unfolded himself to protest, he kissed Damian’s cheek too.
Stubborn, stubborn bats.
 
Chapter End Notes
     WWOAAH SPLIT INTO CHAPTERS WHAT IS THIS
***** Helena *****
Chapter Summary
     “No!” he shouted, but this time Dick wasn’t letting him scramble
     away. He scooped the flailing toddler into his arms and held him
     close, even as Damian smacked and bit and cried. “No, no, no!”
     EDIT: chamsie wrote this awesome_snippet! assuming this is based off
     of a scene in chapter 2 ;)
Damian was the first to figure it out.
“No!” the toddler squirmed when Dick tried picking him up. Seeing as he’d spent
the entirety of his short life sticking to his mother like glue, it took a
moment for Dick to realize he’d refused.
He frowned and knelt down at the boy’s side. “Dami, come on. Don’t you want to
see Daddy?”
“No!” Damian batted tiny fists at his arms and scurried back towards the
staircase. Alfred nearly tripped over the little devil. “No, no!”
“Perhaps you’d like me to take care of Master Damian while you visit?” Alfred
said dryly, and Dick stood up in embarrassment. “Unless you want the papers to
report the screeching Wayne heir in tomorrow’s paper.”
Vicki Vale was not to be underestimated, especially not after all those sordid
articles she'd printed about his and Bruce's illicit guardian-ward
relationship. Honestly, like Gotham had nothing better to gossip about. With a
sad sigh, Dick acknowledged the butler’s wisdom and went to fetch his coat.
He’d been hoping to give Bruce and Damian more bonding time, as their
relationship post-curiosity was as volatile as the tide.
The baby usually liked sleeping in Bruce’s arms, though, and a year later Bruce
still looked flabbergasted when it happened.
“Dick,” Bruce looked surprised when Dick ducked his head into his office. “I
thought you had training.”
“I did, but my partner fucked up and didn’t show,” he hummed and sat on the
edge of the ridiculously large Wayne Enterprises desk. The view from so high up
was amazing: definitely the closest Dick had ever seen Gotham look out of
costume. “So I decided to go home instead, which was boring. The view’s nice
from here, isn’t it?”
“And you didn’t bring Damian?”
“He’s being bratty today,” and Dick couldn’t help the concern bleeding into his
voice. “He wouldn’t let me pick him up.”
Bruce paused his typing. Furrowed his brow and looked up at the frowning omega,
because Bruce wasn’t the best detective in the world for nothing. “That’s
unusual.”
“I know, right?”
“Did he say why?”
Damian had an excellent vocabulary. Dick knew that, had taken pride in keeping
a list of all of his boy's words on his phone. The fact that he still preferred
to convey his anger with fisticuffs and shrill “No, no no” noises just meant he
was a brat.
Dick shook his head and scooted over so he could look at Bruce’s screen. Bruce
held an arm out and Dick, with barely any hesitation, slid into his lap. He
curled his head under the alpha’s chin and breathed in Bruce’s comforting
scent. He’d been so tired lately between classes at the Police Academy and
running about the Titans as Nightwing and chasing after a mischievous Damian
who’d taken to scrambling about the manor.
“Dick,” Bruce turned and pressed his noise to Dick’s cheek. “You do smell…
different.”
“I didn’t take a shower this morning,” Dick confessed, and Bruce wrinkled his
nose. “Seriously, you sure you’re not smelling things that aren’t there?”
“I have an excellent sense of smell,” Bruce said flatly, but didn’t bring it up
for the rest of the hour. Dick cuddled closer and dozed, letting the mind-
numbing exhaustion take over. He’d have to head back and coax Damian into some
playtime at the Manor, and hope the baby was in a more agreeable mood after a
nap. He was a terror as it was without his wide-eyed devotion to Dick; if that
failed, then there was nothing stopping him.
--
Damian wasn’t any less upset when he saw Dick again.
“No!” he shouted, but this time Dick wasn’t letting him scramble away. He
scooped the flailing toddler into his arms and held him close, even as Damian
smacked and bit and cried. “No, no, no!”
“Has he been like this all day?” he asked Alfred tiredly. The butler sighed,
which was all Dick needed to know. “I’m so sorry, Alfie, I don’t know what’s
wrong with him.”
After another thirty minutes of forced hugging, Damian’s cries finally settled
into low whimpers. He buried his face into his mother’s neck and kept making
the most heartbroken sounds, enough that Dick was starting to seriously worry.
He stroked Damian’s back and tried focusing on his academy homework. He even
waggled Damian’s little limbs and bounced him in his lap, but nothing worked.
In a strange twist of fate, Damian only stopped crying with Bruce came home.
“Daddy,” he called out tearily, turning around and reaching his arms towards
him. Bruce looked gobsmacked. So did Dick, for that matter, because when had
Damian ever made grabby-hands at Bruce? He obediently handed the baby over, and
Damian rubbed his face all over Bruce’s expensive lapel.
“Alfred, call Leslie,” Bruce said flatly, though his expression softened when
Damian batted his neck in a bid for attention. He rocked him in his strong arms
and smiled when Damian giggled. He sat besides an exhausted Dick on the couch.
“Tell her both Dick and Damian need a check-up.”
“Bruce, you’re overreacting,” Dick tried to say. Damian undermined this,
unfortunately, by blowing a raspberry at him when he tried to put his head on
Bruce’s shoulder. He mock-gasped. “Dami, so rude!”
“No, Mommy,” Damian pointed a chubby finger at him. Dick licked it. The toddler
squealed and tried smacking him in the face, but Dick was fast enough to move
away. “No, go away!”
“You’re breaking Mommy’s heart, Dami,” Dick sighed. “You don’t like me
anymore?”
“No!”
“You want me to move out?”
“No!”
“Make up your mind,” Dick brushed back Damian’s dark hair and pressed a loud,
smacking kiss to his temple. Damian sputtered with rage. “Mixed signals are bad
for the soul. Who knows, you keep this up and maybe I’ll drop over dead one
day.”
“Don’t joke about that,” Bruce said, and looked startled when Damian smushed
his cheek against his chest and began gnawing his shirt. “Damian, are you
hungry?” When Damian didn’t respond—typical—he turned to Dick, “…is he hungry?”
“You think he’d let me nurse him like this?” Dick snorted. He sat up and
flipped over the couch, as graceful as ever despite his exhaustion. “I’ll go
heat up some formula.”
“Dick,” Bruce said, alarmed at the prospect of being left alone with the
toddler. Dick unrepentantly flounced off, assured that everything would be
fine. Damian looked remarkably content chewing Bruce’s shirt. It would have
been perfect if Damian didn’t constantly look at Dick like he was an imposter.
When he came back, Damian had closed his eyes and was snuggling contently in
the crook of Bruce’s arm. All tuckered out from screaming, yes, but adorable
too.
A little like Bruce, to be honest, not that Dick would ever say that out loud.
--
“Hm,” Leslie said.
Bruce bristled in the corner. “What is it?”
“Settle down, alpha,” the doctor said mildly, taking off her stethoscope and
gesturing for Dick to turn back around. He sat awkwardly on the couch as she
pressed her palm against his sore chest—Damian was getting too old to nurse,
really, but prior to today he’d been insistent on latching onto Dick every
moment he could—his stomach, all the way down to his hips.
Thank god Jason had agreed to watch Damian in the other room. The toddler
normally hated anyone touching his mother, even Bruce, and it'd led to a few
awkward temper-tantrums when he'd wake up to find himself smushed between his
parents. Possessive brat. Leslie had already checked Damian over with no
results, and had ushered him out in favor of looking over Dick next.
“Have you been feeling nauseous?” Leslie asked.
“Nope.”
“Sore, tired, irritable?”
“Tired because none of us get enough sleep as it is,” Dick said dryly. “And
irritable because I’m tired.”
“Were you so asymptomatic during your first pregnancy?” Leslie asked Dick,
though she looked at Bruce for confirmation.
Bruce choked.
“What,” Dick said, flushing red. “You’re—but I—”
"Oh dear," she said, reaching out a hand. He clung to her tight. "Breathe,
Richard. That's it."
When he stopped acting like a crazy person, the doctor continued in a
reasonable voice. “So, yes. You're fine, just pregnant again. I can smell it in
your scent. Damian's probably unhappy because of his sensitive nose. Other than
that, there’s nothing wrong with you. I’d normally refer you to an OB/GYN…”
“No,” Bruce finally found his voice.
“…but I know this one wouldn’t allow it,” Leslie put her hands on her hips.
“Unless you pull a medical degree out of your ass, Wayne, you’ll have to let
some professional keep track of Dick during the pregnancy.”
“You do it.”
“I don’t have the training!”
“Then train for it.”
“Bruce, stop being unreasonable,” Dick finally butted in before someone blew a
gasket. He turned to Leslie in dazed, auto-piloted politeness and nodded.
“Thanks for coming over, doc. I’m sure you and Bruce can work something out
when everyone’s less emotional,” and here he glared at the alpha thrumming with
tension in the corner, “and we’ve thought things over.”
“So young and yet so wise,” Leslie sighed, which was the closest she’d ever
gotten to rebuking Bruce. Dick sympathized; scolding Bruce directly almost
never worked. “And don’t worry about your first, sweet. He’ll get used to the
new scent eventually—just give him time.”
Dick wanted to believe her. Really, he did. But Damian was stubborn and bratty
and all his worst habits had taken twice as long to go away than any book had
suggested. This probably wasn't going to be an exception.
--
Everyone who hadn’t babysitted Damian at least once thought he was
exaggerating.
He wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t.
--
By the third month, everyone in Wayne Manor was exhausted. Damian went through
alarming mood swings like they were going out of style, and not even a combined
Bruce-and-Dick team could get him to stop. Half the time he cried and yelled
for Dick, despite him being right there with his arms wide open; the other half
he clung to Dick so tight he would’ve choked him if he wasn’t only two-and-a-
half years old.
“Mine,” he’d sniffle, his new favorite word after Dick had tried to explain
that he was going to be a big brother soon. “My mommy.”
“I’m still yours, Dami,” Dick tried reasoning with him. He settled the heavy
toddler onto his lap and cuddled him close. “And the new baby’s going to be
yours too, Damian. We’re not going anywhere.”
Damian glared at him like he suspected Dick was lying. If he was in a good
mood, he’d turn and gnaw on Dick’s shirt until the omega sighed and let him
nurse. It had been hard enough trying to wean him off pre-baby; it was
completely impossible now that Damian felt so threatened.
If he was in a bad mood, he’d throw back his head and screech for hours.
Even Kory had winced the one time she’d come over to babysit, and had tried
singing soothing melodies to the flailing, screaming demon-child punching
everything in arm’s reach.
“Perhaps if he makes better friends with Lian,” she suggested once the toddler
had passed out from exhaustion. She rocked him in her arms and floated about
the manor, like the higher she went the less likely Damian would wake up and
start screeching all over again. “He will feel less of the separation anxiety
with friends to give him affection, yes?”
“I don’t know, Kory,” Dick sighed, rubbing his eyes. “They tend to bounce off
one another, you know? Last time Roy and I were banned from some pizza parlor,
the two of them were hollering so loud.”
The Titans might have become honorary aunts and uncles to both Lian and Damian,
but they had the joy of handing the little monsters back to their parents at
the end of the day. Still, Lian was certainly the Titan's darling. She'd crawl
and scoot all over the Watchtower with glee, and there was always some hero
around willing to play with her when the Titans were busy.
The first and only time Dick attempted to get Damian to join her, the baby had
almost shoved Lian out the airlock.
Babysitting Damian mostly took place at the Manor after that.
"You know Wayne Enterprises has a nursery in the lower levels," Bruce suggested
after their last fiasco. "If you feel Alfred and Jason are spending too much
time babysitting..."
"I'm not worried about Dami, Bruce," Dick sighed. He climbed into Bruce's lap
and leaned against him, feeling a strange thrill when his baby bump brushed the
Bat's hard stomach. From the way Bruce shivered, he'd noticed too. "I'm worried
about your poor employees who'll quit the next day."
"Hm," the older man said distractedly, trailing his fingers down and over his
hips. "This isn't punishment."
Only Bruce would ask for clarification. Dick rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss
to his alpha's head. "Nope," he said in a cheerful tone, and grinned brattily
when Bruce growled and pulled down his pants.
Still, for all of Damian's faults, there were advantages to play-dates with
other children. Namely, it forced Damian to learn how to interact socially,
even if he spent most of his time nowadays in a constantYou are not my
Mommystate.
There was only one thing that got Damian’s attention more than the Case of His
Missing Mommy: Lian bullying him.
“Tha’s mine!” he demanded when the older girl nonchalantly took his crayon case
and began filling in the rest of her colors on her coloring sheet. Damian
narrowed his eyes and shouted, louder, “Gimme!”
“Daddy says share,” Lian said. Damian threw his plastic cup at her head.
Lian whacked Damian with her own pencil case, and Damian burst into angry
tears.
“Lian, no hitting,” Roy pulled his daughter up into his lap. Dick tried doing
the same to Damian, but the boy refused. He kept kicking and biting and
scratching until Dick released him. He rolled onto the floor and cried, little
red face scrunched up, and Dick was helpless to do anything but watch.
“Damian,” he tried to soothe. He ran his hands down the toddler’s belly and
sighed when Damian just reared up and tried to bite his arm. “Dami, sweetie,
everything’s okay.”
“You should say sorry, Lian,” Roy prodded.
The girl glowered at him. “He started it!”
“Yes, but you still hit him back. And he’s littler than you.”
“Why do I hafta say sorry,” and now Lian’s eyes were filling with tears too. “I
always say sorry!”
Roy gave Dick a long-suffering look when Lian flung herself down beside Damian
and began to cry as well.
And then they had two screaming children on their hands, an unfortunately
common situation. Enough that the men just sat in shared annoyance as their
progeny dissolved in one of the worst parts of parenting: screeching, ear-
splitting cries.
“Damian,” Dick eventually got up and went to the television. He hated resorting
to this, but sometimes he had no choice. He turned on Netflix and scrolled to
Damian’s favorite animal-themed cartoon. “Damian, you keep crying, you won’t be
able to hear Mr. Piggy go oink.”
Damian stopped crying immediately.
He sat up and stared at Dick with large, watery eyes.
“Oink?” he said in a suspicious but hopeful tone.
“Oink oink,” Dick confirmed. Really, he should have felt more ridiculous making
farm animal noises, but he was too relieved that the crying had stopped. Even
Lian stopped sobbing so she could better hear Uncle Dick make funny pig noises,
and soon with the power of Netflix and brain-rotting media the situation was
under control again.
--
When Dick had been pregnant with Damian, he’d spent his entire five- and six-
month period sitting in front of a laptop bitching to Babs and eating the best
cannolis his trust-fund money could buy.
Pregnant with Helena, he spent his days sitting in front of a laptop… bitching
to Babs and eating some of Alfred’s homemade ice cream, which was better than
cannolis any day.
“They won’t even let me on patrol,” he seethed, waving a spoon around. “And I
swear to god if Jason asks if he can help me lift something one more time—”
“Yes, yes, you’re a strong independent omega who don’t need no man,” Babs typed
something off-screen. A text on her phone, probably, bitching to Kory about
Dick bitching to her, “But come on, you know Bruce is bound to be a bit more…
protective, especially with him not being around the first time.”
“I thought you were going to say ‘a bit more batshit insane,’” Dick said
darkly. He wasn’t feeling very generous at the moment. “Because he is, Babs, I
was ready to stab him in the eye last night, it was so bad.”
“Oh no,” she pointed at him through the computer screen. “I don’t want to hear
it, Dick!”
“At least Damian’s settled down a bit more,” Dick relented. He wasn’t actually
going to go into detail about his and Bruce’s frustrating sex life, because for
all Bruce’s cuddling he wasn’t willing to put out anymore. It drove him crazy.
He put his bowl of ice cream down and stretched. “Dami’s gotten used to the new
smell, at least. Or maybe it’s because I’m home all the time, I don’t know.
It’s so dull.”
“You could do what you did last time and help me monitor some missions,” Babs
pointed out. “We can still use your mind on the field.”
“Yeah, except it makes me even more stir-crazy watching them fight. You know
how much I miss a good brawl?”
“Maybe next heat you should use a condom.”
“I was on birth control!”
“Clearly incompatible with your post-pregnancy body, which you know is risk
factor for accidental...”
“Oh fuck off, Babs, it’s already happened.”
“Fuck!” Damian repeated from the bedroom door, and Dick winced. Babs barely
concealed her laughter. The toddler scurried over to where Dick was lounging
about his desk and climbed into his lap. Clearly Damian had entered the denial
stage, given that he kept acting like his little sister wasn’t taking up more
and more of his mommy’s lap by the day. “Aunt Babs!”
“Hello Damian,” Babs smiled indulgently at him. “What crazy adventures have you
been on lately?”
Damian usually treated talking as if it was beneath him, but he loved showing
off to the pretty lady in the computer. “I saved a cat! Jay says we can’t keeps
it. I wanna cat. Mommy!” he turned and looked up at Dick. “I wanna cat.”
“I thought you wanted a dog.”
“And a cat!” Damian insisted, puffing his cheeks out. Dick kissed his cheek
messily, and the toddler squawked and batted his face away. “No! Sticky!”
“Sticky with love?” he waggled his eyebrows.
“Sticky with chocky-lit,” Damian corrected. God, he was so serious sometimes.
He turned back to his Aunt Babs. “Mommy eats lotsa chocky-lits.”
“Oh?” Babs grinned and leaned closer. “Tell me more, Dami.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Dick said loudly, because the last thing he needed
was Babs teaching Damian how to guilt him out of eating ice cream. “Say bye-bye
to Aunt Babs, Dami.”
“Don’t wanna,” Damian pouted.
“We all gotta do things we don’t wanna do,” Dick told him. Damian hid his face
against Dick’s neck and side-eyed the screen; Dick had to accept that as good
enough or watch Bab’s grin grow every second he waited.
“Talk to you later,” he told her before logging off.
“Wanna cat,” Damian muttered into his collar. Dick patted his head and felt his
heart warm when his little boy snuggled closer. His soothing baby scent was
starting to strengthen into a more distinct, Damian-esque one. And he was such
a good size to hold right now: big enough to rest on Dick’s hip comfortably but
small enough to be easy to carry.
God, when had Damian gotten so big? It was mind-boggling.
Still, he was pathetically grateful his son was cuddling with him again. Gently
hugging like this with Helena sleeping in-between them, Dick never felt closer
to his children than in his life.
--
That's probably what gave him the audacity to lock Batman in the Batmobile
post-patrol and have his way with him. It was quick, rough and dirty, and Bruce
had seemed absolutely horrified at the faint bruising on Dick's ass afterwards.
Still, it seemed to break through some celibate wall because they were fucking
again. He was gentle and careful and just a touch bit scared, cradling Dick in
his arms as they had sex. Dick would’ve complained, except here he was being
held and loved, and this was one thing he hadn’t had when he’d been pregnant
with Damian.
Sometimes, when Dick dozed, Bruce would press his hand to his round stomach and
just leave it there. Only when he slept, however, which made no sense. But Dick
could respect Bruce’s desire to have his alone-time with Helena, and would wait
until his alpha fell back asleep before getting up to use the bathroom.
Things were good.
Of course, the momentary lull couldn’t last.
Because when Dick hit his eighth month, Damian suddenly decided to run away
from home.
--
“Damian!” Dick would’ve run over if his stupid, unwieldy belly wasn’t in the
way. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
It was testament to how worried Bruce was that he didn’t chastise Dick for his
language. He just yanked up a scratched-up Damian clutching something red to
his chest, because of course their son would find his way into an underground
cave and decide to stay there.
“I hate Helena,” Damian had screamed at them just moments before taking off.
“No one wants me anymore!”
For a family of crazy, ninja vigilantes, it was near mortifying to have to call
Commissioner Gordon for help. Damian had apparently squirreled himself away
through a tiny ventilation shaft that lead to who knows where out of Wayne
Manor, and was far too small for even Jason to squeeze through.
The whole thing had Dick suddenly wishing he hadn’t put his foot down when
Bruce suggested implanting a tracking device in Damian's neck. Even if it was
an honestly creepy idea.
“Daddy,” Damian squirmed in Bruce’s grip, completely unrepentant of the fact
that his entire family had been worried sick for hours. “Daddy, look!”
And then he lifted up the red thing he’d been holding, something Dick had
assumed was a stuffed toy he picked up—which was unsanitary but unavoidable
with Damian’s obsession over animals, stuffed or real—and the thing went:
“Reee?”
“What is that?” Jason yelped from above. Bruce frowned and looked down at the
wriggling red creature: something like a cross between a dog and a bat, and
clearly not of natural origin to this planet.
“Damian,” Bruce said in his Warning Voice, and the boy’s expression crumpled.
“We hafta keep him!” he shouted, clutching the trilling creature to his chest
again. Dick itched to tell him to be gentler, but the red fluffball was clearly
tougher than it looked. It bore Damian’s crushing hug with no complaints, just
kept trilling cutely as Damian turned on the puppy dog eyes. “He was—they put
him in a, a big box, Daddy. He was crying. I open the box and he comes out.”
“A big box nearby,” Bruce told Jason, who obediently relayed the data to
Oracle. “Damian, we don’t know what that is.”
“We do!” Damian loosened his hold so that the creature could turn and lick
Damian’s face, and for the first time—god, it’d been too long, hasn’t it? In
the first time in a while, the toddler broke out into a wide, honest grin.
“He’s Goliath!”
“We’re not keeping him,” Bruce told Dick. Dick just blinked at him, because
seriously, he wasn’t in any shape to be chasing Damian around anymore. No one
realized how much work he put into wrangling Damian until he suddenly wasn’t;
the boy would’ve never escaped if Dick hadn’t been incapacitated.
The next time anyone accused him of letting Damian run wild, he was going wave
this fiasco in their faces.
“First, we need your uncles and aunts at the Watchtower to check Goliath over,”
Dick finally suggested, because the moment Bruce said the “N-O” word to Damian
there’d probably be a nuclear meltdown. “Make sure he wasn’t hurt, okay?”
Damian frowned. “And give him back?”
“If he’s hurt, he’ll need to stay at the doctor’s until he gets well.”
“But then he comes back?”
Dick threw a long-suffering look at the night sky. “Yes, Dami, I guess once
he’s cleared we’ll take him back to the manor. But!” he tried to stymie the
excitement before it started. “If Goliath belongs to someone else, we have to
give him back. You can’t take him if he doesn’t want to be with you.”
Damian scowled like the idea of things belonging to other people was tantamount
to sacrilege. Thankfully, however, months with Lian were finally paying off.
Damian was learning the importance of compromise—even if it was just lip-
service, because that was better than nothing.
“Okay,” he said, but refused to let the creature go. Just held onto it tighter
as Bruce stood up and adjusted Damian in his grip so he was easier to carry.
The Wayne patriach waved goodbye at the Gotham Police milling about the
underground cave and turned away.
“We’re not keeping it,” Bruce told Dick in a quiet tone as they headed back to
the Wayne Limo.
The omega rolled his eyes. “You want to deal with the fallout, be my guest. I’m
too busy incubating our daughter to do anything about it.”
“God, Dick,” Jason muttered from his other side. The teenager had been busy
texting Babs, undoubtedly cackling over Damian and his new red companion. “Can
you imagine if she’s just like Damian? Two Bruces at home is bad enough…”
“I can hear you,” Bruce said flatly, and was promptly ignored.
“…and then Lian. Lian is so mean. I hate her. You’re gonna hate her too,”
Damian told Goliath with frightening, childish determination. The creature made
another Reee noise, and Damian gave it such a happy, endearing smile that even
Bruce’s stern gaze softened. God, this kid was going to be hell to say no to
when he got older.
But that wasn’t for a long while yet. It was exhausting enough to stay in the
present, and Dick was alright with that.
--
“No!” Damian cried when Jason determinedly pried him off of Dick’s arm. He
thrashed and screeched and scratched like he hadn’t done in months, until Robin
found Goliath quaking in the corner and put the little dragon bat in Damian’s
arms.
However angry Damian got, he would never drop or hurt Goliath. Still, fat angry
tears spilled out from his eyes as Jason carted him out of the Bat Cave. Tears
that came more readily when Dick really began to scream.
“M-Mommy,” Damian sobbed, clutching Goliath so hard even the normally-resilient
dragon bat began flapping his wings in discomfort. “Is—is Mommy going to d-
die?”
“Dick? Nah, he’s fine,” Jason tried saying, nonchalant. He carried him into the
kitchen and set him onto the counter. “Your Mommy’s a tough one, you know.
Fucked over by Bruce twice—don’t repeat that, your parents will kill me—and
still a shining pillar of the Teen Titans. That’s, like, Olympian levels of
badassery.”
“Badass,” Damian sniffled.
“Yeah, that’s right, Dami-bear,” Jason wiped Damian’s splotchy red face with a
tissue. “Your Ma’s a badass. Just popping out your li’l sis, and then he can go
back to doing hula-hoops in midair or something.”
Damian buried his nose in Goliath’s red fur, still upset but thankfully not
crying anymore. Jason busied himself with preparing hot cocoa for himself and a
small cup of apple cider for Damian, turning away so the boy couldn’t see his
own shaking hands.
He hadn’t realized how much of a presence Dick was in the manor. How someone
barely twenty—twenty! Jason constantly forgot how young Dick was, because
remembering that reignited his old fury at Bruce—could hold together entire
groups of people without even trying. Bruce before Dick’s return had been cold,
grieving and angry. He’d done his best by Jason, he knew that, but the honest
truth was that Bruce’s best sometimes wasn’t enough.
Even Alfred, who was the logical buffer to Bruce’s coldness, had been too
subdued and polite for Jason to talk to. It was like everywhere he went, the
ghost of Dick Grayson followed him. He hated that ghost.
But then Dick had come back with Damian in tow, and it was like the manor lit
up overnight. Jason might have been jealous that Dick could do what he
couldn’t, except he was too busy being relieved. And when he was jealous, well.
Playing with Damian always cheered him up.
“Apple cider for Mr. Wayne,” he brandished the sippy cup at Damian. Damian
reluctantly released Goliath in order to drink, and the dragon bat sniffed
about confusedly until Jason poured him some water in a bowl. And then it was
just toddler and bat drinking on the counter, and a quietly worrying Robin
wishing fervently that he’d spiked his cocoa.
Dick was going to be fine. Leslie had pretty much spent the whole pregnancy
gushing about how easy Dick was having it, how lucky he was, and if he ever
planned on having more than it’d be easy-peasy.
“More?” Dick had laughed, in that tone that wasn’t clear if he was kidding or
talking for real. “Ha ha ha, no.”
The point was, there were no complications. Nothing of any concern prior to
birth, and with Bruce’s impromptu education on the basics of midwifery, Dick
was in the most capable hands this side of Gotham.
“Hey Dami,” he whispered to the eerily silent boy. “You wanna go watch TV?”
“Mommy says no more TV,” Damian echoed immediately.
“I know, I know, but it’ll be our secret,” Jason said. “Since the adults are
all downstairs right now. Y’know why they won’t let you watch TV all day?”
“Why?” and Damian looked curious now.
“’Cause they wanna watch it themselves,” Jason nodded sagely. “All boring stuff
with boring real people. No cartoons or colors. No fun at all. But now they’re
down there…”
“…we can watch!” Damian’s eyes lit up. He poked a napping Goliath, but the
dragon bat didn't even twitch his wings. The boy chose to leave him be, which
was surprisingly gracious of him, and lifted his arms up to be picked up.
Dick was going to kill him for putting this idea in Damian’s head, but he
didn’t care. He needed something to distract him from remembering Dick’s
screams, and hanging out with the baby bat seemed a good enough distraction for
him.
--
Helena was of average size, in possession of all her fingers and toes, and
owned a healthy pair of lungs that clearly meant she was related to Damian.
Leslie swaddled her and put her in Dick’s arms, and he spent a good moment just
staring at his daughter.
“Hello Helena,” he whispered hoarsely. Bruce settled beside him and reached out
a tentative hand. He stroked the baby’s soft fine hair and nuzzled her
cheek—breathing in the newborn pheromones that tied parent and child within the
first few days of birth.
Not that bonds couldn’t form after that—Bruce and Damian were an example—but
this one was inherently different. Primal. Instinctual?
“She’s beautiful,” Bruce whispered, genuinely awed. Mostly scared. “Was Damian
this beautiful?”
“If you mean ‘did Damian look like a red, wrinkled monkey,’” Dick told him
conversationally, “than yes. Yes he did.”
“She’s not a monkey,” Bruce had the gall to look offended. “She’s our
daughter.”
“Hmm,” Dick said, feeling the customary sleepiness falling over him. Helena
began smacking her lips, and Dick arranged her against his chest to nurse. She
latched on immediately, strong and with a healthy appetite, and he stroked her
dark hair with affection.
Bruce kept staring at her.
“You can let Damian see me when I’m sleeping,” Dick waved a lazy hand. He
leaned against Bruce’s warm side and closed his eyes. Helena kept nursing, and
he could already tell she was going to be as hard to wean off as Damian had
been. “Better than waiting for me to wake up. He’s probably… probably so
worried.”
“Rest,” Bruce told him kindly, and ran a large hand through Dick’s hair. It was
soothing. Well-deserved.
Without any protest, Dick fluttered his eyes shut and drifted off into sleep.
--
“She’s a red monkey,” Damian whispered at Jason conspiratorially once Doctor
Thompkins led them downstairs. The toddler had slipped his hand from Robin’s
hold and rushed to his sleeping mother, climbing onto the cot without a thought
and snuggling against his neck.
And then he’d noticed the cooing bundle in his father’s arms beside the bed.
Honestly, he was unimpressed.
“Everyone looks like a monkey,” Jason told him. He kept looking at Dick
strangely, though, like seeing the omega so exhausted with a snuffling newborn
beside him dredged up bad memories. “That’s just what babies look like.”
“I’m cuter,” Damian declared, and beamed when Jason grinned down at him. “I
am!”
“The cutest,” Jason ruffled his hair. Damian was almost too delighted to see
his Mommy safe in sound to notice the way Jason’s face fell; but he saw it
anyway.
He remembered it, because despite his temper Damian was still smart. Complex
sentences and everything at barely three. They’d been ushered back upstairs
while the doctor conducted more tests, and Damian had been near passing out on
the couch from exhaustion.
“Were you a monkey?” he managed to ask, and Jason gave him a baffled look.
“Your mommy must have said.”
“I…” Jason looked away. “I never met my mom. Not the one who gave birth to me.”
“Oh,” Damian said. That was just wrong. “You wanna meet her?”
Robin blinked. Closed his eyes and then opened them again.
“Yeah, kid,” he whispered, like he was telling Damian a secret. “I really do.”
--
A year later, Jason got his wish.
A year later, Jason was dead.
--
Damian always felt like he could have stopped him.
He could have saved Jay with that tiny morsel of knowledge that he’d been
searching for his birth mother. It didn’t matter that he was three and far too
young to understand how important it was when Dad first found out Jason had
gone missing. It didn’t matter that Helena had been a squalling, crying
distraction that covered Wayne Manor with more than enough noise to sneak out
of the house.
What mattered was that he could have stopped Jason—and he hadn’t.
It would have been easy to hate himself for it, but the concept was so foreign
that he dismissed it.
It was far easier to hate Jason’s replacement instead. Like anyone could take
the place of his favorite brother, the only Robin Damian had ever
known—certainly not this waifish omega, Timothy Drake.
Drake wasn’t worthy of taking up the Robin mantle. And Damian was going to
prove it.
 
***** Jason *****
Chapter Summary
     "Cat," she agreed, pointing at the symbol on Tim's water bottle.
     "Lena, that's a bat," Dick corrected.
     "Cat," she repeated.
“Dick,” Tim said, trudging into the Watchtower soaked from head-to-toe. “Dick,
I think your son is trying to kill me.”
“He’s six,” Dick frowned at the mission reports he'd pulled up on the monitors.
Something hadn’t been adding up the last few missions down south, and it would
be foolish to continue sending heroes there without further intel. But there
wasn't enough manpower to spare for just a hunch... “He’s just a bit wary of
strangers, that’s all.”
“Wary of strangers?” Tim snorted. “Dick, he loosened a slat in that bridge
between the Wayne and Drake residences—that water’s ten feet deep, at least!
What would have happened if I couldn’t swim?”
“But you can swim,” Dick pointed out.
Tim took off his water-laden cape and whacked the older omega with it. “That’s
so not the point.”
“Tim, please,” and Dick minimized the screen with a sigh. He turned and
regarded the sulking boy. “I know he can be an awful, spoiled brat sometimes—”
“—wow, real encouraging words for a mother, Dick.”
“—but Damian’s just feeling a bit threatened, you know? He’s barely used to
sharing our attention with Helena; and he definitely isn’t used to sharing
Bruce’s attention with another Robin. Not since—well. You know how it is.” Dick
sighed. “Can you just… humor him for a bit? Please?”
“Fine,” Tim muttered, wondering how Dick could make him feel like a chastised
preschooler in under a minute. He was thirteen, not five, but next to the rest
of the Batfamily he might has well have been. “But no more trying to drown me.”
“I’ll have a word with him,” Dick promised, which was the best he could do.
Having a word with his son had been getting harder and harder as Damian's
hiding skills increased. He’d even found some nooks and crannies Dick wasn't
familiar with, which was impressive since Dick spent most of his first two
years here climbing the walls.
It was usually cute, until Damian got so mad he shut Helena up somewhere and it
took them hours to find her.
It was so hard without Jason, Dick couldn’t help but think, and squeezed the
remote in his hand reflexively. The second Robin had been good at making Damian
feel special and cared for. Now with this drama with Tim…
Well, it wasn’t like Dick had expected things to get better with a stranger
hanging about the house. He just wished Damian would understand.
--
Damian didn’t understand.
He’d been so angry when Dad came home with this wimpy-looking omega in tow, and
he'd refused to move when they asked him to clear the training room.
“I want to learn too!” he crossed his arms defiantly.
“Damian, you’re too young,” Dad said.
“He’s young!" Damian pointed at this intrusive stranger awkwardly tying up his
gi.
“How old are you, five?” the infuriating boy muttered, and Damian kicked him in
the shin.
“Six!” he shouted as Tim yelped and clutched his leg. “And if anyone’s gonna be
Robin, it’s me!”
By the time Mom zeta-d back from the Watchtower, still dressed in full
Nightwing costume and muttering about reckless speedsters who wouldn’t follow
orders, the fight had devolved into absolute mayhem.
“I-it’s not fair,” Damian ended up running to his mother with angry tears in
his eyes. “Why does he get lessons? I want to fight too! How can I be Batmanif
I can't fight?”
“Can you please try including Damian?” he turned to Dad, who’d been awkwardly
watching his son’s meltdown. Dad’s strange, non-reaction had about a fifty-
fifty chance of working, depending on if Damian just wanted attention or not.
This, however, was something different. “Who knows, maybe he and Tim can get to
know each other better.”
Tim and Damian exchanged horrified looks.
“He’s too young,” Dad repeated, crossing his arms.
“I was only nine when I started fighting.”
“You were trained as an acrobat since birth—”
“—and now we’re both crazy vigilantes with crazy, crazy enemies. You don’t want
Damian to be defenseless now, do you?” Mom stood up and put his arms around
Dad's neck. Damian stuck his tongue out; it was always gross when his parents
cuddled. Mom ignored him and said, “It’ll be good for everyone, Bruce. Come
on.”
Group training sessions did indeed help Tim and Damian’s rocky relationship—but
only because they could beat each other senseless without getting grounded.
Damian, especially, was rage personified whenever he got hold of a wooden
training sword. He’d whack Tim over and over, a little ball of fury that
wouldn't give up. Not even when Tim got a hit in, because who cared about that?
Damian was on a roll.
“It should have worked,” Tim would complain to Mom afterwards, pressing an ice
pack to his bruised cheek. “But it was like he didn’t even feelit.”
“Sometimes battling isn’t just about tactics,” Mom said, and laughed when Robin
gave him a disbelieving look. “Ironic, right? But don’t forget about adrenaline
and emotion. It’s just as valid a consideration as an enemy’s technical skill.
Damian’s a good example of someone who can overpower you on will alone.”
“But it doesn’t make sense.”
“It will,” Mom ruffled Tim’s hair. Damian scowled from where he was curled up
against a snoozing Goliath. He only put up with Mom ruffling Dad's hair because
they were his parents, but Mom and this imposter Robin? It sent angry pinpricks
up his spine. “That’s your training, Tim, figuring out how to overcome that.”
“Damian,” Dad called out from where he was doing cool-down stretches on the
mat, distracting Damian from his building fury. He reluctantly walked over, and
was surprised when Dad threw him the wooden sword he’s confiscated after he’d
almost poked Tim’s eye out.
“Whoosh! Zing! The Dark Knight is here!” he swung the sword around with glee.
Dad rapped a hand against the training post and Damian straightened.
“You beat Tim with force, not skill,” Dad said. “But in a real battle, an
experienced enemy could've knocked you down easily. Let’s play a game, Dami.”
Damian regarded his father with suspicious eyes. “...you mean training?”
“It’s a game,” and now Dad looked a bit hunted. “Your mother even had me
prepare prizes.”
Damian swiveled and looked at Mom, who’d begun sparring with Tim in the other
corner. He gave Damian a little wave and a grin before flipping out of Tim’s
next clumsy kick. Damian wanted to laugh, but then jumped when he felt
something jab his stomach.
“Da-aaad!” he whined, turning around. He wriggled when the Batman put more
green stickers on him, all over his vital areas. He wanted to complain until
Bruce handed him a pile of red stickers.
“Place these on me,” Dad said, spreading his arms. “But choose carefully. The
goal is to tap all stickers in our next fighting session, so put them where you
think I can’t defend.”
Honestly, Damian knew this was a training exercise, but getting to put stickers
on Dad? Did he even know what he was up against?
--
“Oh my god,” Dick laughed hysterically, practically falling off his seat.
Helena, who’d wandered downstairs with Alfred, crawled into his lap and stuck
the tattered ear of her stuffed cat into her mouth. Dick hefted her up higher
so she could get a better look at her older brother and father duking it out.
As befitting of Bruce's anal-retentiveness, Damian's vital areas were covered
in green stickers. Damian, on the other hand, had placed pretty much all his
stickers on Bruce’s shins. It was like he was wearing bright red stockings, and
every time he so much as tried kicking Damian the boy would cling onto his leg
and get five points automatically. And then it was a matter of father trying
not to trip over son, and it was only by the grace of Batman's ninja
gracefulness that he didn't fall over in a tangled heap.
“Hello Helena,” Tim finished wiping his face and waved at the toddler in Dick’s
arms. She smiled and reached out a hand, and Tim shook it with grave sincerity.
“I hope the accommodations are to the princess's liking?”
"Cat," she agreed, pointing at the symbol on Tim's water bottle.
"Lena, that's a bat," Dick corrected.
"Cat," she repeated.
Selina had had a field day the first time she'd met the girl, in no small part
because Helena's cat obsession rivaled hers. Also, the toddler refused to
believe that cats and bats were different creatures. In fact, she refused to
believe any fuzzy creature with pointy ears wasn't a cat. How Helena could call
every squirrel, dog, and fox she saw a 'cat' but could always tell the
difference between her favorite black cat doll and the bat plushie Damian had
awkwardly sewn for her, Dick didn't know.
It was an important distinction, though, because taking away her cat doll—even
for a quick wash—turned the normally amiable baby into... well. Into Damian.
"I win!" the boy cried out, finally toppling Bruce and climbing on top of him
in triumph. Bruce submitted easily, his normally stoic frown turned up into a
wry smile. Damian bounced on his chest. "I beat the Mighty Batman!"
"Very smart," Bruce agreed, and Damian puffed up with pride. 
"We're not going to hear the end of this, are we?" Tim groaned. He brushed back
Helena's hair and yelped when she a latched onto his fingers with sharp,
determined teeth. Dick firmly returned Tim's hand and shook the cat doll at the
unhappy toddler. She latched onto its ear again with glee.
"You saw that, Lena?" Damian flipped off of the boxing platform and struck a
pose. "I'll be Robin soon—"
"Hey," Tim said.
"—and then Batman, and then the night will be ours!"
"Cat," Helena said.
"Bat," Damian corrected her. "Batman."
"Catman."
"Batman."
"Damian, you know she's not going say it," Dick sighed, and Damian crossed his
arms with a huff. "She's too little."
"She knows it's Batman!" Damian insisted. "She's doing it on purpose. Why are
you like this, Helena? I know you can talk."
"Cat," Helena said—and before Dick could scold Damian for picking on his
sister, the toddler blew a loud raspberry at him.
Damian wiped the spit from his face with indignant fury. "I know you know it's
Batman, you stupid brat! I hate you!"
Helena burst into tears; Damian ran upstairs in frustration; and Dick resisted
the urge to bang his head against the wall. Of course, things usually went from
good to bad in an instant given Damian's volatile personality. He'd hoped his
good mood from beating Bruce would last longer, though.
"Lena," Bruce climbed down and held out his arms. Dick passed the wailing
toddler over and got up to put away the training weapons. Tim trailed after
him, sighing and muttering to himself and fiddling with the edge of his cape.
The younger omega did that whenever he wanted to say something but was too
scared.
"You think Bruce'll give Robin to Damian?" he finally said, voice small.
Dick sighed and slung an arm around Tim's narrow shoulders. "Damian's six,
Tim."
"I know that, just..." Tim looked away. "I dunno. Given his parents, it's
obvious he's going to be natural fighter. He even manages to beat me half the
time!"
"Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses," Dick told him. "Jason and
I—well, you know I've always been quick and flexible. My advantage is in the
air. Jason, though, was always more of a powerhouse. Where I would've flipped
over a crowd, sometimes it was just easier for him to plow his way through."
"Oh," Tim said. Dick rarely mentioned Jason, and knew Tim understood what it
meant that he brought the subject up.
"You're family, too, Tim," Dick patted his shoulder. "That's not going to
change."
Tim blushed and ducked his head. He seemed happier, though, which Dick took as
a win. They headed upstairs, Bruce still bouncing Helena in his arms and
talking to her in a low, calming voice. She'd stopped crying and was paying
rapt attention, only interrupting his father's dialogue whenever he said
"Batman."
"Catman," she insisted.
"...yes, and Commissioner Gordon told his subordinates to call the Catman,"
Bruce acquiesced, and Dick snorted behind him. Honestly, Helena could get away
with bloody murder for all Bruce cared. Dick would love to blame it on
overcompensation—since Bruce still held guilt over the whole fiasco with
Damian—but he suspected that no matter what, Helena was going to be a daddy's
girl. Catman.
Selina was going to laugh until she cried.
--
Still, his children's sibling rivalry sometimes made Dick want to move to the
Watchtower and never come back. Let Bruce handle the kids. Except he'd probably
panic and get really awkward and unintentionally scar them both for life, and
of course it'd all be Dick's fault.
“I'm not Day-Day!” Damian shouted, storming into the kitchen with a quick
little Helena-shadow scurrying behind him. “My name is Damian. Day-mee-an!”
He came to a sudden halt, causing Helena to crash right into his leg and tumble
onto the floor. Her cat doll went flying, and then the waterworks began.
Damian whirled on her. “Stop crying!”
“Damian,” Dick chided him sharply, and Damian crossed his arms. “She just wants
to hang out with her cool big bro.”
“Well I don’t want her to,” Damian muttered. Helena kept crying, and Bruce
threw Dick a concerned look from across the table. Dick ignored him. Helena,
unlike Damian, wasn't as prone to keeping grudges, and could afford a few more
minutes of irrational childish devastation.
As he'd hoped would happen, Damian soon relented and fetched the spit-covered
cat doll. He approached the whimpering toddler.
“It’s Damian,” he enunciated, squatting to the girl’s level and giving the doll
back. “Get it right already.”
Helena clutched the cat tight to her chest and blinked at him with huge, teary
eyes.
Damian huffed and lifted her up by grabbing under her arms. She wasn’t nearly
as big as Damian had been as a toddler, but the first-grader still struggled
with her weight. Not that he showed it. Instead, he lugged Helena back out of
the kitchen like it was his insufferable duty, and Dick burst out laughing once
the children were out of sight.
“Maybe we should watch them,” Bruce said. “What if Damian locks her under the
sink again?”
“She’ll be fine,” Dick waved his hand. It was important for Damian to develop a
sense of responsibility towards Helena on his own. It wasn’t something that
could be forced. “Worse comes to worse, we’ll track her down by the smell of
her dirty diaper.”
Still, Dick wasn’t completely irresponsible. He’d finished filling out the
latest paperwork from his patrol—his police patrol, not Nightwing patrol,
because he liked to get paid and have his own money to wave in Bruce’s face
sometimes—and snuck towards the living room.
His heart stopped when he heard Helena actually talk.He knew she could, but
with only a few "Cat" noises and some hand gestures, she made Damian as a
toddler seem like a chatterbox.
“Day-Day,” she said, voice clear and strong. “I want airplane!”
“No,” Damian said.
“Day-Day.”
“Damian.”
“Day-mee?”
“Damian.”
“Airplane!” Helena waved her hands up. “Please, Dami?”
Damian let out an exaggerated sigh, like it was such an inconvenience when he
was clearly doing nothing more than watching Vicki Vale’s muted face on TV.
“Just one, Lena. And then that’s it, okay?”
“Okay,” she said happily, and squealed when her older brother lifted her up as
high into the air as he could get her. Which wasn’t much, but Helena clearly
didn’t care. She stretched her arms out like airplane wings and flapped them.
“Whoosh! Whoosh!”
“Control Room, this is the D-plane,” Damian said in a faux-announcer voice. He
began running in circles, Helena giggling madly in his arms. “Request for
landing?”
“Aff-mer-tive!” Helena called out.
“Affirmative," Damian corrected her.
"Firma-tee!"
"Prepare the runway,” Damian said, for once giving up correcting her. He rushed
to the couch and dropped the laughing girl onto the soft cushions. “Flight
complete! Thank you for choosing Damian-airlines. We hope to see you again.”
“Again!” Helena sat up.
Damian crossed his arms. “Just one, remember?”
“Again!”
Dick knew he was smiling like a lunatic, but he couldn’t help it. Sometimes
when things were bad—Bruce snarling and surly after a bad patrol; Tim as unsure
and confused as ever; Damian a little ball of anger that Dick couldn’t even
begin to understand; and Helena crying and crying—he wondered what the hell
he’d been thinking, coming back home.
But then there were these moments that just. They heated up his insides and
made him feel like he was made of goo. He felt such a rush of pride at Damian,
who despite his flaws was a good kid at heart. Just bratty and insecure, as
kids sometimes were, but he clearly enjoyed being an older brother when he
wasn’t busy worrying about being replaced.
Really, things were almost perfect.
He’d have to tell Jason what’s happened the next time he visited his grave.
--
“This isn’t gonna work,” Lian said, watching the teenagers below them gossip
and argue and press their disgusting mouths together. Damian didn't see the
appeal. Dribbling spit meant Helena, not icky adults doing Adult Things. His
parent's kisses didn't involve spit, and Damian was firmly insistent that their
private kisses were the same.
“Shut up,” Damian hissed at the infuriating girl squished beside him. This was
his mission. Helena was an unfortunate addition, since Mom had wanted to show
her off to his hero friends and brought her along to the Watchtower. But Lian
should've minded her own business. “Just shoot it when I tell you.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“Well I’m smarter."
“And I’m prettier,” Lian shot back. She fetched her toy bow and arrow set and
gracelessly shoved Damian further down the vent so she could get a better view.
Helena protested from Damian's lap and smacked him with her cat doll. He glared
at them both. “And really, Dami. You’re gonna get in so much trouble."
Helena perked up at the sight of Lian's arrow and reached demandingly towards
it. Lian let her grab it, and the littler girl immediately stuck the tip into
her mouth.
Damian growled and tore the arrow away.
Helena began to cry.
“Look what you did,” Lian said.
“She’s gonna get sick!” Damian said hotly. “You can’t just let her put stuff in
her mouth.”
“Why? I thought you hated her,” Lian wiped her tears away with a hand, and
Helena quieted. Thankfully, the Teen Titans below them were too busy licking
each others tonsils to notice the commotion. Damian straightened when he caught
sight of a dark shirt and red superman symbol. He'd only met Kon-El in person
once, but it only took one meeting to realize how smitten Tim was with him.
Ugh, gross, gross. But it meant their quarry was close.
“Aw, don’t worry Lena. If Dami doesn’t want you, you can come home with me!"
Lian was still talking to Helena. "I always wanted a little sister.”
“Get your own sister,” Damian snapped, wrestling Helena back into his lap
possessively. She huffed at the rough treatment but didn't struggle. “This
one’s mine.”
“You hate her, you want her,” Lian sang. “Better make up your mind, Dami, or
she’ll run away to me one day.”
“He’s here,” Damian smacked her arm, and the two of them leaned over the open
vent.
As he'd guessed, Tim had appeared by Kon's side and was gesturing at  something
on his tablet. Every time the alpha leaned over and peered over his shoulder,
Tim perked up and not-so-subtly brushed up against him. Teenagers.
“I don’t get it, Dami,” Lian shrugged, taking aim. “I mean, Tim’s kind of
cool.”
“Tim is an imposter,” Damian hissed. “He's usurped my rightful as Robin long
enough! I'm almost old enough now, Dad doesn't need him anymore."
"I don't think that's how the Robin and Batman thing works."
"Do you want my lunch or not?"
“Fine,” she agreed, because anyone with brains knew the true worth of a
Pennyworth Lunch.
When Tim finally parted with Kon and made his way over to the central console,
Lian fired.
“Woah!” Robin jumped back in time to dodge the upturned bucket of water. He
leapt onto the table, tablet clutched tight in his hands—which was when Damian
struck.
“Charge!” he shouted, and jumped onto Tim’s back. They went crashing down in a
heap, and Damian used Tim’s surprise to wrestle the tablet away. “Mine now!”
“Damian!” Tim shouted after him as Damian made his escape. He fled down the
hall, Robin hot on his trail, and scurried under a surprised Green Lantern’s
feet and up into the monitor room’s vents. Tim was too big to fit, though when
Damian glanced back he spotted Robin's angry black mask glaring at him from the
entry. Whatever. Damian was free to crawl his way back to Lian and his sister.
Except Tim was an evil, no-good brainiac and tossed a smoke bomb into the tight
space.
Damian wheezed.
“You had enough yet, you little brat?” Tim’s voice called out from behind him.
Determined not to lose, Damian kept going. He wobbled when his next breath came
up short. “Damian, come on. Get out of there.”
"No!"
"Damian!"
“N-never,” he said—and then promptly fell face-first onto the dusty metal.
--
Damian woke up to a big tongue slobbering him.
“Ew,” he squirmed, pushing Goliath’s big head away. The dragon bat huffed and
licked him again, and Damian gave up the cool-guy act and threw his arms around
his thick neck. Goliath was so big. It was absurd to think this bear-sized
creature had once fit in Damian’s arms a few years ago. Damian could even ride
him, sort of, though Goliath wasn’t strong enough to fly with a passenger just
yet.
“I didn’t mean to,” Tim’s voice called out petulantly. Damian pressed his nose
into Goliath’s thick fur and glanced around. He was back home and laid out on
the living room couch, Goliath taking his usual place on the ottoman beside
him. “I didn’t think he’d just stay there until he passed out!”
“Of course he would, he’s Damian,” and Damian winced, because Mom sounded
pissed. “Thank god the ventilation system’s sectioned off, or else the smoke
would have reached Lian and Helena too. What were you thinking?”
“I’m just sick of being pushed around all the time!” Tim yelled. “Mom’s gone
and Dad might as well be, and the only place I feel like I belong, he’s always
there making my life a living hell!”
“Tim…”
“And there I was on Titans business, and Damian’s barging in on that too! You
know he almost shorted out my tablet? Hours of data almost gone, and if a
hundred people die in tomorrow’s protest, it’ll be his fault!”
Mom sighed but didn’t immediately come to Damian’s defense—which hurt more than
he’d thought. It really hurt, because the way Tim spun it Damian sounded like a
spoiled brat. A spoiled, interfering brat, and he hadn’t even considered the
people Tim had been helping. He’d just wanted Robin to suffer.
"Damian," Dad appeared in the doorway, and Damian resisted the urge to fall
back onto the couch and bury himself under a pillow. "We need to talk."
Dad didn't look angry, exactly; just serious and controlled and a tiny bit
concerned. He sat himself down beside his son and held out an arm. Damian
reluctantly leaned against his side with a pout. Under the silk shirt was pure
muscle, just as under Dad's businessman veneer lay the infamous Batman. Unlike
with the armor, though, Damian could more easily relax under Dad's alpha scent.
"Do you know what being a Robin is, Damian?" he asked.
Knowing he wasn't going to answer right, Damian scowled and buried his face in
his father's shirt.
"Protecting the people. Preserving life. Dedicating oneself to the mission,"
Dad listed. "And if you ask your mother, he'll say 'looking after Batman' as
another responsibility, though it isn't." A pause. "The Robins have always been
my students, Damian. Training them to be able to fly alongside the near-
invulnerable enemies of the world."
"But I can be a student too," Damian said hotly.
"No," Dad said. Damian's heart dropped, and his lower lip trembled. "Damian,
you're my son."
"I am your son!" he shouted, voice cracking. "And—and that means I'm going to
take over Batman one day—"
Dad looked pained. "Damian, no—"
"—and I can't do that if you won't even let me be Robin!"
"I can't risk you!" Dad shouted, and Damian hated it when he raised his voice.
There was enough enraged Batman in that tone for Damian to see how criminals
could cower. "I can't lose you, not like—not like Jason."
And that was too much. Already on edge and frustrated, Damian leapt up onto his
feet and shouted, "Jay, Jay, Jay! I'm not Jay! Like I'd be asstupid as him and
let some stupid clown blow me to pieces!"
"Damian!" Dad roared, and Damian knew he'd crossed a line. He turned heel and
ran, angry tears already beginning to stream down his face. Goliath bounded
after him, a big red shadow placing himself between him and the seething
Batman, and Damian didn't even acknowledge him until he tripped halfway across
the Wayne Manor gardens and fell flat on his face.
"Reee," the dragon bat nudged his sniffling friend. Damian slowly got up and
wiped the dirt off his nose.
"Let's get out of here, boy," he said fiercely, and clambered onto Goliath's
back.
Goliath ambled aimlessly about the Wayne Manor grounds, sniffing at flowers and
chasing after rabbits. Damian let him go wherever he wanted, not caring where
they ended up as long as it wasn't back at the manor. They passed by the serene
flatness of the Family Lot, and Damian sat up.
Grandma and Grandpa Wayne were sleeping there.
Jason, too.
Damian swallowed. He'd only gone there once, after the funeral, and hadn’t had
the nerve to visit again. He knew Mom went regularly, as did Alfred. Dad never
did, which made Damian feel better for his own avoidance. Thinking about it
now, he felt almost ashamed.
“Let’s see Jay,” he told Goliath, pushing down his irrational, childish fear.
“Come on, I know you know where he is.”
Goliath huffed and lumbered over.
As they approached the open field and carefully carved gravestones, Damian felt
apprehension stir in his gut. He didn’t—he didn’t want to be here.
Goliath stopped a few steps away and sat down on his haunches. Damian
reluctantly climbed down and stared at Jason’s headstone. It scared him,
sometimes, when he realized how quickly he was forgetting their time together.
He’d only been four-ish when Jason had disappeared from his life, and Damian
found himself unable to remember the most random details. He hated it. He hated
how Dad had taken down all of Jay’s photographs, because he couldn’t even use
those to remind himself of what the former Robin looked like.
“Hey,” he said awkwardly once he was right in front of the stone. He leaned
over and draped himself over it so he didn’t have to stare at the Jason Peter
Todd written on its front. “It’s me. Damian.”
“Damian,” an unfamiliar voice repeated behind him, and Damian froze. "A fine
name."
He rolled off the tombstone immediately, just in time to see Goliath rear back
with a fierce roar.
“Goliath!” he shouted, alarmed, when the dragon bat leapt onto the beautiful
woman that had appeared in the middle of the grassy plain. She ducked out of
the way and drew out a sword—
“Stop!” Damian scrambled in front of the dragon bat, little face fierce, “Don’t
hurt him!”
“You really are just like my Beloved,” the woman smiled. She shifted her sword
so it turned towards Damian instead. His heartbeat quickened. His hands shook.
All the maneuvers and tricks and skills his parents had drilled into his head
flew before him—but he couldn’t even move.
He froze, because he’d never actually had to fight anyone for real.
“Come here, Damian,” she took a gliding step forward, “and I promise, I won’t
hurt your little friend.”
Damian shivered. He clutched the bracelet on his left hand and slowly walked
towards her. And then with a snap, he tossed it into the air and watched it
explode into a flare.
“Run, Goliath!” he shouted—just as the woman cursed and struck him with the
butt of her sword. Damian’s vision went white, and the last thing he saw as he
slumped to the grass was Goliath’s large red form flying off into the open sky.
--
Damian woke up in a dark cell.
It was cold and uncomfortable and for a single heartbeat, the boy felt scared.
Then, anger quickly overwhelmed everything.
“Let me out!” he shouted towards the closed door outside the cell. When no one
came, not even an irritated guard, Damian patted his clothes down for his
gadgets and came up empty.
They’d frisked him, then, which was unfortunate. His parents kept his everyday
clothes armed to the teeth.
Damian blinked wetly at the thought of his parents. He wanted Batman to swoop
in, all dark and protective and so strong. Whisk him away in his large arms and
cover him with a blanket of safety. He wanted Mom, too. Not just for his skill,
but because cuddling with his mother always reminded him of how loved he was.
How much they’d miss him if he left.
Except Damian had run away after fighting with Dad. Mom would come for him, of
course, but the idea that Batman would turn his traitorous son away sent a wave
of tears to his eyes.
Damian curled onto the floor and sniffed.
Then, once he got control over himself, he began wiggling the bars one-by-one.
He doubted any of them were loose enough for an eight-year-old to pry apart,
but it was better than doing nothing.
--
An hour-ish later, the woman came back.
“Hello Damian,” she said pleasantly, even when Damian glowered at her from the
floor. “My, my, that really is Bruce’s glare. I can barely see Richard in you
at all, which would have been…” she paused, almost regretfully. “It would have
been perfect, honestly. I would have taken such good care of you, Damian.”
He didn’t know what she was talking about, but it was starting to creep him
out. “What do you want,” he said. If he was lucky, they just wanted Dad’s
money. He’d just have to play the good little hostage until they inevitably
tracked him down to wherever the hell this woman was keeping him.
Unfortunately, she dashed his hopes immediately. “To get the Batman to stop
interfering with our business.”
Damian froze. She knew Dad by name. She knew he was the Batman. Who was she?
“The League of Shadows has worked very hard to ensure tomorrow's protest
happens,” she said. “All the work we’ve done in the last five years, all the
people we've moved about, all coming together at once. I’m not about to let my
Beloved stop it. He hates me getting my way, you know, but somehow I think he’d
hate losing you more.”
She gave him a soft grin. “Are you hungry, my dear?”
Damian growled at her, and she just strolled out of the room with a laugh. He
went back to wiggling the bars, to no avail. Angry tears pricked the corner of
his eyes.
He felt so hopeless. Useless. Even Tim could’ve figured his way out of this
mess, and Tim got himself stuck and captured and strung up more often than
Goliath did in a ball of yarn. The fact that Damian couldn't escape just
highlighted the gap between him and Robin, and him and the rest of the
Batfamily in general.
He didn't want to be weak. Here in this dark, dank cell, however, Damian could
do nothing about it.
--
An indeterminate time later, once Damian had given up and just lay hungry and
thirsty on the floor, he heard a new voice arguing with the woman’s.
“What did you do, Talia?” A man's voice, gruff and strangely familiar. "Have
you even fed him? Watered him? Jesus fuck."
“Like Bruce won't come by within the hour,” the woman replied coolly. “I did
what I had to do, to make sure he didn't interfere tomorrow.”
“That's my responsibility! We had a plan, you can't just decide things on your
own.”
“I saw a more secure action and seized the opportunity—”
“Oh, yes, kidnapping a third-grader definitely gives you the upper-ground
here.”
“That’s enough!” Talia’s voice rang out sharply. “You have problems with my
decision, then leave. I’m not keeping you here against your will. You chose to
stay with me.”
Clacking heels signaled her departure, and the man's voice muttered angrily,
"Bitch."
After a long, awkward moment, the door to the dungeons swung open and
someone—someone familiar stepped inside.
Damian’s eyes went wide.
He was battle-worn and thrumming with fierce energy. Older, taller, bigger,
wider. His chest was pure strength, and the faint lines of scars peeked out
from beneath his turtleneck. The biggest difference, aside from his age, was
the shock of white staining his bangs.
He still smelled the same, though: a spicy, familiar alpha scent that Damian
sometimes dreamed about.
“Heya Dami-bear,” Jason Todd cocked his head, kneeling down so he could look
the stunned boy in the eye. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”
--
Jason knew the family would come swinging by at any moment; of course they
would. Damian was the darling of the Wayne family, no matter how threatened he
felt by his sister.
So he'd expected Nightwing’s silent arrival behind the assassins guarding the
hall. Expected it enough that he’d readied himself for the inevitable shock of
seeing the omega again. He'd had an entire dramatic entrance planned out, one
he'd carefully crafted after a year's worth of pulling strings. But no, Talia
had to ruin all that, hadn't she? Kidnapping Damian brought the family right to
their doorstep, which kind of took away the 'Surprise, I'm alive!' factor of
Jason's reveal.
Honestly, for a group of shadowy ninjas the League had no appreciation for
dramatics.
“Jason?” Dick gasped, stunned, upon picking up his scent. Jason's red hood
served its purpose by hiding his own startled expression, because expected or
not, Dick was here. Close enough for him to pick up his omega scent, and Jason
only hesitated a second before clicking off the safety and firing at his former
family omega. Dick flipped out of the way and rammed the taser-end of his
escrima stick into Jason’s gut.
The armor took most of the sting off, but it still hurt.
“How…?” Dick’s expression hardened. “Where’s Damian, Jay?”
“Aw, no hello, welcome back from the dead for me?” Jason spread his arms wide
in mock-hurt.
The omega growled at him. “Where. Is. Damian.”
“Y’know, I wasn’t sure if you’d come in person,” Jason told him. He ducked out
of the next jab and barreled into Dick, ramming the slighter man into the stone
wall with a satisfying crack. For what Jason lacked in flexibility, he more
than made up in bulk. “Thought you’d be paranoid over little Helena with
Damian’s disappearance.”
“A-Alfred can take care of her,” Dick grunted, picking himself up from the
massive dent in the wall. He spat out blood but readied his escrima sticks
without pause. “Tell me where Dami is, Jay. I don’t believe you’d hurt him. You
wouldn’t.”
“Maybe I came back wrong,” Jason drawled. “Ever think of that, Dickiebird?”
“Never,” he said—and then something slammed into Jason's lower back and sent
painful, white-hot shocks through his limbs. He fell like a puppet with its
strings cut. His vision returned in time to see a teenager dressed as Robin—his
costume!—sheathe back his bo-staff.
“You okay, N?” the imposter Robin asked Nightwing. “You know this guy?”
“Yeah,” Dick wiped his mouth. “Yeah, I—I do.” He crouched down beside Jason.
“Jay, just tell me where he is. Talia’s tried taking Damian before, and if she
does, she will ruin him. I know you wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, so
tell me.”
“Down two flights,” Jason made out. “Second door on the right. And Dick…”
Nightwing’s expression through his domino mask was nigh unreadable.
Jason grinned. “…Bruce’s genes sure as strong, aren’t they?”
“Shut up, Jay,” Dick said, almost reflexively. The imposter Robin cast a
curious glance between the two of them, but clearly decided that saving Damian
was a priority. They disappeared from his line of sight, and Jason let out a
shuddering sigh.
He flexed a gloved hand and grimaced. It’d take him a while yet to recover full
control of his limbs, which was a problem if he wanted to hightail it out of
there. Knowing Dick—knowing Dami—they'd try to bring him home. To the manor.
The manor wasn't his home—or so Jason kept telling himself, because it was
easier to think of it that way.
He wasn’t ready to go back. Not with blood staining his hands, and his oath to
keep it running as long as murderous bastards existed in the world.
--
“You touch my son again,” Mom shouted, escrima sticks flying as quickly and
deadly as his punches, “I will tear you apart, Talia! Do you hear me!”
“And break the Bat's code?” Talia laughed. Damian didn’t know where she got her
confidence from. This was the angriest he’d ever seen Mom: angry enough that he
wasn’t holding back. There was nothing playful in Nightwing’s twists, not even
a little bit of enjoyment for dancing about as he loved to do.
He was all hard anger and sharp, graceful moves, and for once Damian could see
where his own rage-filled tenacity came from.
“You know,” the woman said thoughtfully, picking up her sword from where it’d
been kicked out of her hand. She spat blood onto the stone. “If I’d raised the
boy, he could’ve easily escaped from that cell. It would have been,” she
struck, and Damian’s breath hitched when a blood-red gash appeared on Mom’s
bicep, “child’s play,” another cut, and Mom rolled out of the way this time,
“for a child of the Shadows.”
“If you’d raised him,” Mom seethed, twirling his sticks so they were taser-side
up, “he wouldn’t have been a child. You wouldn’t have loved him, Talia...” and
here, he slammed his foot down onto the loosened stone beneath them. The sudden
lurch threw the surprised assassin into the air, “...and I’m not letting you
take him from me again.”
He jammed both sticks into her gut and shocked her. The woman spasmed once,
twice, and then slumped bonelessly to the ground.
Mom panted, winded and bleeding and clearly tired, and then stumbled across the
room to Damian’s cell. The moment he unlocked it, Damian rushed into his arms.
“Oh god, Damian,” his mother whispered brokenly, burying his face into his air.
His hands ran up and down his back, his face, as if trying to convince his mind
that his son was here and alive. “Damian, I thought I lost you. I thought she
took you away from me again.”
Damian squeezed him tight. Smushed his cheek against Mom's and breathed in his
soft, comforting omega-scent. Mom had come for him. Tim, who Damian saw at the
doorway, had come for him.
Which reminded him of the ghost he’d seen earlier today, and he reluctantly
pulled back.
“Jay,” Damian said urgently.
“I saw him, Dami,” Mom sighed, hauling Damian into his arms. “I saw him.”
“We’re taking him home with us,” he demanded, and frowned when Mom shook his
head. "We are!"
“We can’t force him to, Damian,” Mom said, tone gentle. “Not if he doesn’t want
to come.”
“But why?” Damian burst out, frustrated and angry and unable to understand.
Jason was alive. He was alive, and hadn't Dad and Mom and Alfred been missing
him this whole time? If Jay came home, things would be good again.
“Some things are just too complicated,” Mom stepped into the hallway and nodded
at Tim, who pressed a button on his wrist-tablet and alerted Oracle of the
successful retrieval. “Some things just take time.”
--
“Who was she,” Damian asked sleepily once they were safely buckled into the
Batplane and on their way home. He didn't even have the energy to complain
about Tim piloting, though normally he'd press his luck and ask if hecould
drive too. He just curled up in the seat besides Mom's and dozed on his
shoulder. “That... Talia person. She knew Dad's name.”
Mom was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he said, “She’s someone I hunted down
once, when you were a baby. You were barely a year old, then. When she found
out, she tried to take you. Sometimes I think, what if I’d never gotten you
back?” He ran a shaky hand through Damian’s hair. “What if I lost you then?”
Damian snuggled closer. He supposed her comments made a bit more sense now, but
he was too tired to sort them out. “And when you did get me back?”
Mom grinned, small but real. “I realized there’s nowhere better to go than
home.”
“Home,” Damian whispered quietly, and let his eyes finally droop shut. They
were going home.
 
***** epilogue *****
Chapter Summary
     “Clark,” Bruce hissed, and Superman just held up a hand as he tried
     to get his breath back.
     “Oh my god,” he chuckled. “Damian’s throwing a fit, isn’t he?”
Chapter Notes
     This is a ridiculous epilogue. It involves ridiculous
     characterizations of Helena Wayne and Lian Harper, because I don't
     know anything about these girls and ended up mashing bits of their
     parent's personality traits together. Apologies in advance for
     hardcore Helena and Lian fans OTL;;; I probably got them wrong sorry.
     EDIT: art_of_Damian,_Helena_and_Lian_<3
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Dick had gotten very, very good at quick fucks. He had to or risk exploding
from frustration, because wrangling two kids with little to no sense of privacy
meant little time left for Adult Business. And he'd had to wrangle his kids for
years.
He kept a mortifying but amusing list of places they'd fucked: against the
bathroom wall, on the table in Bruce's study, on the pommel horse in the gym.
Even during monitor duty at the Watchtower that one time, though from J'onn's
unimpressed face Dick supposed they could've been... mentally quieter.
"Shh," he laughed, arching up when Bruce ran a hand down his chest. "Quiet, or
Babs will hear you."
"Babs has already heard you," Oracle's voice sounded dry over their
communicators. "Babs will now temporarily take both of you off the line for her
own peace of mind. Fifteen minutes, guys, and then you're coming back on."
Bruce glared at him, looking caught between angry and embarrassed because they
were supposed to be on patrol. But it'd been a slow night and Dick had caught
one too many glimpses of his mate's fine, muscled ass while they swung across
the city, and so the moment they stopped he'd pushed Bruce into an alley and
slipped his tongue into his mouth.
He whined agreeably when Bruce yanked down his pants and unbuckled his jock
strap. Pressed him hard against the brick wall and swung his legs around his
hips, and then Bruce was pushing inside. It was sudden and not entirely
comfortable, but Dick didn't care. He cradled Bruce's jaw and kissed him again,
full and heady and with all the tricks he'd picked up over the years. He kissed
as hard as Bruce fucked him, and soon he had to break away with a pant because
his alpha was hitting a good spot.
"Fuck," he whispered, tilting his head back and letting Bruce place his alpha
teeth over the bite mark there. "Fuck, Bruce, right—right there—"
One more angled thrust and he was coming, thighs clenching around Bruce's hips
and his entire body trembling with pleasure. Bruce kissed him sloppily one more
time before pulling out. He massaged his knot as Dick reached between them and
lazily stroked him, until the alpha tensed and came onto Dick's exposed torso.
"You couldn't have aimed at the wall," Dick laughed, but there was no bite in
his tone. He kissed Bruce's face as they scrambled to clean up: tucking
themselves back into their pants, wiping the majority of their mess down with a
handy handkerchief from Bruce's utility belt—duh, when was Bruce ever not
prepared?—and straightening their hair. He cuddled against his alpha, secure in
knowing that the large Batman cape would cover them from any curious eyes.
"Okay, so you're back," Babs's voice crackled over their communicators right on
time. "There's an armed robbery happening three blocks down from where you guys
are—looks like either the Riddler or the Penguin's work, not a hundred percent
sure just yet. They're hired goons but not entirely dumb."
Dick sighed against Bruce's neck and then pulled back. He put a hand to his
ear. "Got that, Babs. B and I are on the way."
Thank god he'd gotten used to the suddenness of quickies years ago; it meant he
could leap from building to building with little to no trouble. Focusing
entirely on the mission, because as they all knew, any distraction could lead
one to the grave.
--
Except their next obstacle came out of nowhere. Or maybe it was a long time
coming, but knowing something and experiencing something were two very, very
different things.
The declaration of war started with Damian running to Jason's in a rage—and
Jason actually bringing him back, stepping into the manor for the first time in
years just so he could bitch to Bruce about his children's behavior.
"I don't get why you don't just give him the Robin title," he said, going for
nonchalance while smoking a cigarette. His slightly trembling fingers betrayed
him, though. "I mean, isn't Robin, like. Your rehabilitation for troubled kids.
Not that it worked on me..."
"This isn't your business," Bruce said.
Jason snorted. "Unless some other Dami-bear's climbing into my warehouse and
setting off my booby traps every night, it kind of is."
"The Robin title has nothing to do with this," Bruce stood up. "This is a
matter between Damian and Helena. Which I expect you two to solve promptly. Are
you listening to me, Damian?"
"I am solving it," the teenager snapped, crossing his arms. He glared at Jason
with betrayed blue eyes. "I'd still be solving it if someonedidn't drag me
back. This is a waste of my time."
"Sit down," Bruce said when Damian tried to leave. For all his recent
rebelliousness, the boy wasn't suicidal. He sat. "Damian, tell me exactly
what's going on. Why are you and Lena fighting?"
Damian scowled and turned away. Bruce refused to lose the waiting game. The
Batman was the master of the waiting game.
Finally, his son muttered, "She won't listen to me."
Bruce raised a brow. "And?"
"And nothing."
"She's spent the last decade not listening to you, and it hasn't turned the
manor into ground zero."
"He's jealous," Jason faux-whispered, and Damian viciously kicked him in the
shin. "Ow! Jesus."
"Don't you dare," Damian snapped, bearing his alpha teeth as a threat.
Clearly unimpressed, Jason just bulldozed ahead, "'Cause Lian and Lena are
sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S—"
"Shut up!" Damian flung himself at the older alpha and began pummeling him with
his fists. Jason rolled his eyes and blocked most of them, until Damian got in
a hit on his knee and he went tumbling down in shock. The fight would've
escalated if Bruce didn't slam his hand on the desk.
"Damian," he growled, voice so low it was almost a rumble. The boy froze, mouth
set in an angry, defeated line. "What is Jason talking about?"
"This is your fault," Damian hissed at the estranged Robin. "I was taking care
of it!"
"Clearly not," Jason drawled, and Damian got one more hit in on his face before
he had to turn around and face the music.
--
Bruce Wayne didn’t normally vent to his colleagues. Part of his persona meant
being a silent, creepy shadow of the night, after all; and also because pride
dictated he keep his personal matters within the family, no matter how much he
sometimes wished Clark would seal his children into a vault with his heat-
vision.
At least that way, they’d talk things out without trying to kill each other.
Hopefully.
“Dick expects me to talk to Damian,” he told Clark stiffly in the Watchtower
Cafeteria. Superman slurped his smoothie in probably the loudest, most
obnoxious way possible. Honestly, one second out from the media's eye and all
of Clark's manners flew right out the window.
Bruce glowered. Clark continued slurping.
“Okay,” he finally said, setting his cup down. “Start from the top, Bruce, I
can’t read your mind.”
“Helena,” Bruce sighed with the gravity of a man facing death, “has decided
that she’s marrying Lian in the future.”
Clark, the utter bastard, threw back his head and laughed.
“Clark,” Bruce hissed, and Superman just held up a hand as he tried to get his
breath back.
“Oh my god,” he chuckled. “Damian’s throwing a fit, isn’t he?”
“He can’t decide who to be mad at first, and so he’s mad at everyone,” Bruce
rubbed his brow beneath his cowl. “Dick’s already tried talking to him, and I.
Well. I didn't react well the first time, and I don't know how it'll be any
better if I try again.”
“But isn’t Helena, like, twelve?” Clark sat back. “Why does he even treat her
seriously?”
“When does Damian ever not take things seriously?” Bruce said. “Not to mention
he and Lian have always had their rivalry. In a way, Helena marrying Lian means
she’s won.”
“And what's your opinion on this, Daddy Bats?" Clark grinned. "Whose side of
this war are you on?"
Damian's, clearly, but Bruce couldn't play favorites. "I'm not on any side,
because there shouldn't be a war at all. There is definitely a responsible,
mature way to handle this disagreement that doesn't involve swords or
crossbows,” Bruce said. His friend looked at him disbelievingly.
"So if Helena asked you to walk her down the aisle..."
"She's twelve!" Bruce growled, and Clark had the gall to chuckle.
"Totally on Damian's side," he said with the gravitas of someone who knew he
couldn't be gutted with a fork and knife. Invulnerable bastard. He tossed his
empty cup into the trash receptacle with annoying, perfect precision.
“Shut up, Clark,” Bruce said, and stabbed his spaghetti with a fork. His friend
was smart enough to leave him to his brooding, and spent the rest of dinner
regaling him with tales of his own unfortunate family drama. Like hearing about
Lex's latest plan to blow him into smithereens would make Bruce feel any
better.
--
Helena didn't want to talk to anyone. Not Mom, not Dad, and certainly not
Alfie. Forget Damian altogether, because her brother was the most patronizing,
controlling, sexist alpha-brother she'd ever had the misfortune of having. She
flung her sketchbook onto the floor and scooped up Selina the cat. The cat
meowed as Helena fell onto her bed and kicked her feet in frustration.
"Lena?" Mom's voice came through the door. "Can I come in?"
"No!" she shouted.
As expected, Mom opened the door anyway. He was still dressed in his police
uniform sans badge and hat, which meant he'd probably just zeta-d from
Bludhaven back to Gotham. Helena wasn't stupid. She knew the parentals were
getting worried about her and Damian's spats, and this was definitive proof.
Mom usually changed into more comfortable clothes after clocking out.
Helena growled and turned her back on him. The bed dipped as Mom sat beside
her.
"Lena, we need to talk."
"No we don't."
"I'm serious. I know Damian's a bit... protective and that can come out the
wrong way, but he has a point."
"Shut up!" Helena sat up, feeling her eyes growing wet. Selina wriggled out of
her grip and escaped under the bed. "I know you're on his side, okay?
Everyone's on Damian's side!"
"There isn't a side!" Mom insisted, putting both hands up. "We're just
concerned."
"About what?" Helena crossed her legs and tried to look as haughty as she
could. It worked for Dad, and it worked for Damian, but Mom looked unimpressed.
Then again, he was probably immune by now. "It's none of your business what
Lian and I do! You—you didn't butt into Damian's life about Colin, why are you
butting in now?"
"One, we did talk to Damian about Colin, so don't think you're special," Mom
said, "and two, Lian is four yearsolder than you."
"Dad's, what, thirteen years older than you?" Helena shot back.
"But I wasn't twelve when it started!" Mom sounded frustrated. "You're
just—young, and I know Lian's a good girl—"
"We just like hanging out, okay? I mean, we hang out all the time anyway at the
archery range, and she comes over Selina's when we're talking about cats," and
Helena was on a roll now, "and I just, I like her! Why can't you get that?"
She buried her face into her coverlet and let the tears come. She didn't care
if she was being melodramatic; her goddamn meddling family's reactions were
melodramatic. Even Tim had expressed disapproval, and he'd mated with some
alpha grown in a fucking test tube.
"Because you're my little girl, Lena," and Mom was getting sappy now. He hugged
her close, even when she refused to lift her head up. "And you're an omega like
me, and I can't help but be concerned. I want to make sure you know what you're
getting into."
"I do," Helena insisted.
"I mean, holding hands and kissing is okay, but you know you don't have to do
anything more than that," Mom started, and Helena lifted her head in mortified
embarrassment.
"Mom!"
"Because you just presented a few months ago, and you still need to—"
"Stop!"
"—get used to your body—"
"I hate you!" she wailed, and Mom was evil enough to give her a grin.
"We—mothers and daughters do not talk about things like that!"
"Oh, but I'm a hip, modern mother," Mom struck a pose. "It's important to have
an open communication line, because what other responsible adult will give you
omega advice?"
"Ew!" Helena said. She'd gladly keep up the pretense that her parents were
perfect, sexless beings. "Ew, ew, ew."
"And another thing—"
"No!" Helena pushed Mom off the bed. He let himself to corralled to the door,
and didn't even protest when she slammed it in his face. Breathing heavily,
Helena stalked back to her bed and splayed herself over the covers. After
regaining her composure, she twisted around and picked up her cell phone from
her bed stand.
"Oh my god, Lian," she started when the other girl picked up. "I just sat
through the worst convo in the history of convos..."
--
“Lian and Helena?” Roy spat out his coffee, eyes wide as saucers. Dick wrinkled
his nose and went to fetch some napkins. When he came back, his old friend was
still blinking rapidly at nothing. “What? No. I mean, kids say stupid shit,
don’t they?”
“I don’t know,” Dick said dryly. “It’s one thing if it’s just Helena’s crushing
hard, but I think Lian’s the one that asked her out first.”
“Lian’s a kid too!”
“She’s sixteen,” Dick frowned. He ate his cake and wondered if Bruce had
finished hiding in the Watchtower yet. “She’s an alpha who’s spent her entire
life squabbling for dominance with Damian. And now she’s set her eyes on Lena?”
“She wouldn’t do anything,” Roy jumped to his daughter’s defense. “Not my
girl.”
“I know she wouldn’t do anything on purpose, Roy. I’m just saying kids… make
mistakes. They hurt each other without meaning to.”
“Oh god," Roy put his head in his hands. "I wish this coffee was spiked."
Dick kicked him, because alcohol jokes from an alcoholic weren't funny. “No you
don’t.”
“I don’t,” Roy sighed. He groaned and tipped his head back. “Ah jeez, I’m not
ready for this! She’s my baby girl, Dick! She’s—just yesterday it seemed I was
changing her diaper, and now she’s dealing with alpha puberty? Oh my god.”
“I never understood how Bruce could make thirty look so good,” Dick raised his
cup in solidarity. “Forget that, I don’t know how he makes forty look good.”
“It’s that rich, businessman type,” Roy said sourly. “Tattooed punk doesn’t
hold up nearly as well. I’d know.”
Dick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He’d had a similar crisis when
Damian had presented in a typical, dramatic Damian way—in the middle of a
screaming match with Bruce, of all people, over him joining Batman and Robin on
patrol.
He’d worked himself up into such a rage, even Helena came down from her room to
watch the drama unfold.
Dick would’ve chastised her if he hadn’t been doing the same thing.
“I can do it!” Damian hollered, face dark red. “I beat Tim more than half the
time, and I’m older than he was when he became Robin. Don’t treat me like a
baby!”
“You’re not a baby,” Bruce roared back. “You’re my son!”
“What does that even mean," Helena said. "I hate it when Dad uses the 'you're
my kid' card. Like sharing blood means we're not allowed to do anything."
"He's always been like that," Dick told her unhelpfully, and she made a face at
him. She pulled out the faded sketchbook she and Lian had been swapping every
week for the last year and a half—some kind of collaborative art project, Dick
had never been good at arts as a kid—and sketched a hilarious if unflattering
picture of her brother. Dick snorted. “And Dami’s probably gonna go 'you're not
the…’”
“…boss of me!” Damian finished shouting.
And this was when Dick would usually intervene, because his boys were a bit too
similar. Stubborn and angry and unwilling to back down, even when just giving
an inch would solve everything.
But then Damian let out an enraged scream—and the air suddenly flooded with the
scent of new alpha.
They forgot about the argument after that. Too busy trying to calm an
increasingly hysterical Damian down and bundle him upstairs, with Helena
wrinkling her nose and making faces at her miserable brother the whole way.
It wasn’t a surprise given that Lian had presented alpha a year before—but it
just made their arguments worse.
So much worse.
“So what? What do we do now?” Roy observed. “This isn't Romeo and Juliet, we
can't keep them apart. I know you and Bruce aren't... happy, I guess, but I
know you're willing to give Lian the benefit of the doubt. But Damian?"
"Damian's a second away from stealing all of Lian's bows and arrows and setting
them on fire," Dick said dryly. "And then we'd really have a war on our hands."
"Jesus, that brat is ridiculous," Roy shook his head. "Why can't you guys
distract him with something else? I mean, being protective of your sister is
cool but that kid takes it to a whole new level."
"You want to convince Bruce to let Damian be Robin, be my guest," Dick finished
his coffee. "But short of shipping him off to boarding school, they'll have to
sort things out or burn the house down. And Damian's not going to burn the
house down."
"Oh?"
"Because it'd make Alfred cry," Dick said, and Roy knew enough about the
Batfamily to understand how this was a very real, very understandable deterrent
from house-burning.
--
To be honest, Lian hadn't expected Helena to have the balls to climb up her
fire escape and shimmy in through the window.
"I zeta-d to Star City and than called a cab," she explained, tossing her long
dark hair over her shoulder. She gave Lian a wicked grin. "I even paid with
Damian's credit card, too. Serves him right."
"You know the more you piss him off, the more he's going to come after me?"
Lian said dryly. She leaned over and plucked the plastic card from Helena's
pocket. "Dami's always been pigheaded."
"I know," Helena pouted. "But this is too far! He told, and now Mom and Dad are
on my case and everyone's just—argh! I wish they'd butt out!"
"They'd probably find out anyway," Lian said reasonably. She and Dad had had an
awkward talk that morning, one that devolved into the classic 'alphas have to
be responsible, respect omegas, don't be a jackass, okay, cool' because Dad was
killer on the field but wasn't as able to handle anything that suggested she
wasn't his little girl anymore. She held an arm out and smiled when Helena
cuddled close, pressing her head into the crook of Lian's neck. She was soft
and warm and smelled amazing. She'd always smelled good, tantalizing enough
that Lian had actually concocted several plans to kidnap Helena as her own
little sister rather than Damian's.
It'd taken puberty to realize her desire for Helena wasn't platonic at all.
Still. Twelve. Lian took a deep breath and resisted the urge to press the girl
into the bed and just settle her weight on top of her. Not for any dirty
purpose, though. Just to indulge her protective instincts a bit, let herself
feel Helena's heartbeat fluttering and her chest rising with her breaths and
the soft press of her growing breasts against Lian's own.
But then she'd probably feel Lian's hard-on, too, and that was passing into
Going-To-Be-Stabbed-By-Damian territory.
"Li," Helena whined, nuzzling her neck. She draped her arms around Lian's
broader shoulders and kissed her cheek. "I missed you."
Jesus, who was teaching this kid these tricks? "Missed you too, kiddo."
"Don't call me kid," Helena said, pretty lips turned down into a frown. "I'm
your girlfriend, aren't I?"
And before Lian could say anything, Helena leaned forward and kissed her full
on the mouth. Lian was weak—clearly—and immediately settled her hands on the
omega's slim hips. They started off soft and slow, just the taste of cherry
chapstick and the sandwich Lian had eaten for lunch that day, and then Helena
grew bolder. She curiously pressed her tongue inside and Lian groaned. Wished
she could just reach down and squeeze the base of her erection so she didn't
scare Lena away when she came. The brat settled herself more fully in her lap,
still kissing and exploring and completely taking advantage of Lian's frozen
conundrum. She trailed her hands down Lian's collarbone and through the
neckline of her shirt. Lian gasped when she cupped her breasts through her bra,
skin on skin—
And then, with a choked groan, she came.
"Oh," Helena said, wide-eyed, at the growing wet-spot at the front of Lian's
jeans. She didn't stop touching Lian's full breasts, and either she had no
fucking idea what she was doing or—
"Helena!" Lian's door burst open. Damian charged inside and froze at the sight
of his little sister straddling a clearly post-orgasmic alpha, both hands
fondling her boobs, and Lian had never really been scared of the younger alpha.
Not until now.
"Dami—" she started, and was quickly overridden by his enraged, indignant roar.
He yanked Helena off of her and unsheathed his katana, which was when all hell
broke loose.
--
 Jason was unrepentantly amused by the whole thing, which Damian hated because
this was all his fault. He'd been getting through to Lena about taking things
slow, and had even managed to shift around Lian's Teen Titans shifts so she and
Lena weren't patrolling at the same time. But no, Jason had to get their
parents involved, and then Lena ran away to Star City because she felt
attacked, and then something happened that ended up with Lian coming in her
pants, holy shit.
“So what if they want to be together?” Jason said, mouth half-full with
hamburger. He'd offered to patch up some of Damian's worst injuries, though
he'd waved him off. He wasn't scared of a bit of bow and arrow action, and he'd
gotten his own back when he stabbed Lian through the hand and pinned her to the
wall. “I mean, if Helena's cool with it, it's none of your biz.”
“She’s my sister,” Damian snapped. “And she’s—she is too young.”
“Damian, your parents make the phrase 'too young' seem irrelevant.”
“She’s still my sister! Lian’s a bitch and she’s going to hurt Lena, and if I
can stop that from happening, I will!”
“Huh,” Jason drawled, sitting back in his rickety counter chair. This was
Jason's favorite warehouse, the one Damian was most likely to find him
squatting in whenever he went off the grid. The older alpha had been busy
outfitting the interior just before his unfortunate death, and had returned and
finished job once he came back to Gotham.
Damian had found him within the day. It'd been a half-angry, half-joyful
reunion, with Damian caught between anger at Jason for staying away for so long
and relief that the former Robin had come back at all. After beating each other
up a bit, Damian had then gone out with Jason to buy the rest of the
warehouse's supplies.
He'd especially picked out the dragon bat doll sitting on Jason's bed stand, a
limited edition plush made after enough Goliath sightings in the night sky.
Damian wasn't sure if he should feel jealous. Then again, he had the real
Goliath and Mom had been so tickled by the whole thing he'd bought a dozen of
them and distributed them across the family. Even Goliath got one, and the
dragon bat took surprisingly good care of it in his nest behind the Giant
Penny.
Jason had laughed when Damian gave him his doll, but he still kept it.
The older alpha was drumming his fingers on the counter, looking thoughtful.
"What," Damian snapped when the silence got to be too much.
“Y’know, I kind of thought you were pissed at Helena, not Lian,” Jason said.
“’Cause Lian’s, like, your one true rival or something, and you hate sharing
things with your sister.”
Damian’s face flushed red. “What! No. I hate Lian, she's evil."
"She's the oldest friend you've had," Jason pointed out. "Some might even say
your best friend."
"Lian is not my best friend!"
“You wanna know what I think, Dami-bear?"  Jason went in for the kill. “I think
you’re mad they’re leaving you out.”
“I am not!” Damian’s sharp alpha scent flooded the kitchen. “Shut the fuck up!
You’re making stuff up, Jay!”
“Oh really? There was that time last year, you came over and bitched about Lena
taking up the crossbow, right? And then she and Lian were practicing at the
range and you couldn’t join in?”
“Yeah, but…”
“And then there was that sketchbook thing they passed between the two of them
for like three years…”
“I don’t care about that!”
“And,” Jason put on the finishing touch, “when Helena had to write about an
alpha she was close to for a report, she wrote about Lian, didn't she?”
Damian’s face was so red, Jason was surprised he didn’t explode into a bloody
puddle right there. It’d be funny for a second, but then Bruce would come
hunting for his head.
“Everyone wrote about their family,” the boy said, voice more hurt than angry.
“I thought she'd choose Dad, but Lian? I’m her brother, she didn’t even
consider me.”
“Uh-huh,” Jason sighed. “You know what I think you need, Damian?”
“If you say ‘a hot date,’ Jay…” Damian started.
“You need a mission. A purpose. Friends.” Jason spun his chair around. “Stop
obsessing over your family so much. Don’t you have that freckled boy as a
friend? Colin?”
“Leave Colin out of this,” Damian snapped reflexively. Jason raised a brow. Oh,
he’d stumbled upon something, hadn’t he? Wasn’t Colin an omega? Dick had given
Damian the Talk over that, but he'd assumed it was over proper etiquette
between alpha-omega friends...
Damian, however, had clearly suffered enough without getting the third degree
about his own love life. Jason relented and waved his hand. “But enough of this
downer talk, kid. No one wants to listen to that. We’ve got time to kill
tonight, where’dya wanna go?”
Damian sat up, face brightening for the first time since slinking into his
warehouse.
“I,” he said imperiously, “want to fly.”
“You’re Dick’s kid alright,” Jason snorted, but went to fetch his coat all the
same. When he returned, Damian was looking through the window with an almost
lost expression on his face.
He put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, kid. Things will work out. They always
do. You wanna know why?"
"'Cause Dad's the Batman?" Damian said.
Jason laughed. "What? No! I mean yeah, that's something, but don't
underestimate Dick's ability to patch things up. Seriously, the guy's been
through more shit than you can imagine and he's still running around doing
flips and laughing his head off. Whatever happens, Dick will be there for you
and Lena. You know that right?"
Damian's mouth twitched. He looked more relaxed, however, which was something.
"Yeah," he said, almost to himself. "Yeah, I do."
--
Goliath cut an imposing figure in the night sky. He was massive, truly
deserving of the ‘dragon’ part of his dragon bat name, and Damian loved
clinging to his fur and feeling the wind blowing through his hair. It helped
him put things in perspective when the city was nothing but a sprawl below
them; when there was nothing but trust in Goliath and his training keeping him
from plummeting to his death; when the sky looked so bright above the smog, and
Damian was reminded of the worlds stretching beyond their own.
Jay hung on like he'd been riding dragon bats all his life, a warm and secure
weight beside him. For all his and Dad's fighting, wherein Dad would claim that
the 'real' Jason had been lost for good, Damian thought the man was relatively
the same. He smiled the same way, at least, and every interaction brought back
familiar feelings from his childhood.
“Look, Dami,” Jay said, pulling off his helmet and sticking it onto Damian's
head. The younger alpha made a face but let the former Robin toss his hair.
“The muck of Gotham, smoke and dirt and all. From up high, it looks so pretty,
doesn’t it?”
Damian blinked down at the industrial sprawl. It was true, in more than one
way.
“It is," he sniffed and put his head on the older alpha’s shoulder. He suddenly
felt exhausted.
Damian tapped Goliath's head to get his attention and said, in a clear voice,
"Come on, boy. Take us home."
 
 
end
 
Chapter End Notes
     Wow, I need to get some serious work done.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!