Chapter Text
Bruce is glad when he's the one picked.
Well, glad probably isn't the right word for it. He isn't excited to be picked, in fact he dreads it with everything in him, but he is always always overjoyed that it's not one of his boys. He would go through any amount of pain and terror just to keep them safe.
He’s not supposed to feel this way, he knows. When their captors brought Dick to him over ten years ago, it was only supposed to last the night. They’d hoped that an omega would be able to keep the pup quiet while they were smuggled across the borders. But when it came time for them to be separated, they both carried on so much that they were forced to move hideouts again or risk being found.
After that, he’d been allowed to keep Dick, tucking the pup in against his chest as they hunkered down in the meager scraps of fabric allowed to them by their captors.
Jason and Tim were given to him as well, with the instruction to ease their training. Bruce had done his best, doing better with Tim than he did with Jason. He will still never forgive himself for the time he spent apart from Jason, thinking that his pup was dead. Since then he’s always done his best to be the meek omega that their captors want from him. He keeps their customers happy and in return they let him keep his children.
It seems like a fair enough trade.
Bruce adjusts the silky black baby doll nightie, taking a moment to artfully ruffle his hair, before he pushes open the door. Inside sits a very awkward looking man, maybe a few years younger than himself. He's dressed in a flannel shirt, of all things, and khaki slacks. Glasses perch on a strong nose, obscuring clear blue eyes. At least this time he won’t be trying to swallow down vomit as he services the man.
Bruce slinks forward and crawls up his lap, stifling his laughter into a teasing smirk as the man somehow manages to get more awkward. His hands hover at Bruce’s hips, but don’t touch.
He presses a kiss to the alpha’s neck, glancing upward coyly. “What’s your name gorgeous?”
Before the man can answer, Bruce hears the protesting shouts of his pups and tries to pull back. He’s held in place by the man’s surprisingly strong grip on his thighs. When he turns back, the man stares at him looking startled. When he speaks, his voice is surprisingly soft for a man who looks like he could rip most people in half. “There are others?”
“Clark. There are pups.” Someone calls out. It’s not a voice Bruce knows, and he renews his struggles to break free.
Damian’s angry curses sound out, echoed by Jason’s threats. Something crashes, followed immediately by Tim’s yelp. The voice from before cries out while Dick can be heard trying to organize his brothers.
Bruce tries harder to pull free, but the man pulls him tight to his chest. One hand stroking up and down his back before cupping the back of his neck and scruffing him firmly. Helpless to do anything else, Bruce’s muscles go lax and he collapses against the man’s broad chest.
“It’s going to be alright.” The man speaks again, and his smile is kind—not lecherous. “You can trust us. I don’t want you to hurt yourself by struggling. We’ll take you to your pups.”
The mention of his children, followed by another round of Damian’s frantic cursing, is all Bruce needs. With the aid of adrenaline, he pulls away and makes it to his feet. Stumbling steps take him down the hallway to the tiny concrete room he calls home. Three men in uniforms have trapped his children in a corner. He shoves them aside before they can even notice that he’s there and plants himself in front of his children, baring his teeth. A hand fists in his nightie, probably Tim’s.
One of the men a beta by the lack of scent, steps forward but is stopped by the man who rented Bruce.
“Wait. Back up a little and give them space.” The man walks forward cautiously, like he’s approaching a feral dog. He might as well be. He stops about a foot away and then sits down with a calming smile. “We’re here to help, not to hurt.”
“Clark. We don’t have time. We have to get them out of here quickly before the rest of the gang arrives.” A blond beta tries to step forward, but jumps back when Bruce growls.
The man, Clark presumably, waves the others back. “It’s alright, Barry. If we don’t get them calmed down they won’t be going anywhere.”
“We’re not going anywhere.” Bruce snarls. His voice is nearly as deep as an alpha’s and he can see the shock on the group’s faces. “Not with you. There’s no sense in trading one cage for another.”
“Clark.” The first beta hisses. “We need to grab them and go. This is Gotham and if the gangsters get here, we won’t be getting out.“
“They don’t know us, Hal. They’re not just going to follow us.” Clark reaches inside the neckline of his flannel slowly, carefully broadcasting his movements while Bruce watches with narrowed eyes. He draws out a badge on a chain and lifts it off his neck to hold it out to Bruce. “We’re with the cops. We’re here to get you out.”
“Bruce.” Dick breathes behind him.
More than ever he wants to rip out the throat of the alpha in front of him. The last thing his pups need is false hope. This is Gotham. A dirty cop is as common as common as cobblestone. The heavens know enough of them have visited him and his boys, but if it’s real—
Bruce traces the metal engravings, glancing back at his children. Dick has Damian firmly behind him, staring back at Bruce with wide eyed hope. Jason is similarly covering Tim’s body with his own, but fear paints his expression. His second eldest tried to escape once and to say it didn’t go well would be a devastating understatement. Still, Jason gives a hesitant nod.
Bruce steels himself and passes the badge back. “Let’s go.”
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The omegas gather up their meager belongings and it takes pitifully little time. Clark’s heart breaks for them as they bundle up three blankets and a handful of scanty clothing each. Their mother stumbles a few times, still not fully recovered from Clark’s attempt at a scruffing. He tries to offer help, but the omega jerks away with a scowl and a snap of his teeth.
He’s a brute of an omega, even if he is fine boned with skin like porcelain china. Clark has no doubts that any further offers of help will result in the loss of his fingers, so he makes sure to give the huddled group plenty of space.
They file out of the condemned building they’ve been living in. The youngest hesitates in the doorway for just a moment, but after a gentle nudge from one of the older pups he strides forward with his nose tipped up in the air.
The mother smiles faintly, before nudging the second smallest out. His voice his quiet, meant only for the pup. “It’s alright, Tim. It won’t be like before.”
“You can’t know.” The pup, Tim he presumes, protests. He’s clinging tightly to his mother’s arm and doesn’t look older than fourteen or fifteen. Conner’s age. “Jason was—“
“Jason was alone.” The man nudges the pup again and the boy takes another sluggish step forward. “At any rate, we’d already be in trouble. When the others arrived they would be displeased with us even if we stayed. They might separate us anyway.”
“But Bruce! They like me, I could—“
“You could do no such thing.” Bruce’s stern tone is at contrast with his scruff induced wobbling. He’s forced to lean on one of the older pups. “With any luck you’ll never have to again.”
“What if they’re worse, Bruce? They could separate us too.”
The mother—Bruce, dips his head and noses at Tim’s head. “Then we’ll fight. I won’t lose one of you. Not again.”
Bruce helps the pups up into the back of the van John has ready before following. Barry is already inside, passing out blankets to each of the omegas. Clark sends up a silent prayer of thanks that they’d brought plenty of those at least. They’d meant for the one omega they expected to nest with them.
Bruce accepts his and then wraps it around one of the older two, scenting him thoroughly. Then he shuffles all four of the boys towards one of the back corners.
“There was supposed to be one, Clark.” Hal hisses at his side. “How in the world did the Falcones manage to hide five omegas?”
“I don’t know. Wish I did.” Clark bites his lip as he clambers into the back of the van and helps Barry and Hal pull the door shut. Seconds later the van takes off, rattling down the alleyway. In any other city, a white van rattling around back alleys would be suspicious, but it’s just par for the course in Gotham.
He turns on the battery operated lantern they brought with them and slowly approaches the tightly huddled nest of omegas. Bruce’s eyes stay locked on his as he holds out the device. One of the boys takes it, giving a bright smile to Clark. He then ducks his head shyly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Clark says. Then he looks back to Bruce. “We’re headed towards Metropolis. The Falcone gang has very little influence there. You should be safe.”
“Where will we stay?” Tim asks. He’s trembling head to toe, but his head is held high. One of the other boys is half draped across him. “We have no money.”
“It will be alright, Tim.” Bruce promises, reaching out to touch the pup’s shoulder, but Clark can see the same worry reflected in his eyes.
Very carefully, Clark sits cross-legged. Barry and Hal stay on the other side of the van. Eventually they will interact with the omegas, but until Clark has firmly established himself as trustworthy to them, it is best that their interactions are limited. “We’re part of a group that liberates omegas from bad situations. It’s not strictly legal, but we’ve found loopholes to make it work. One of those loopholes is claiming rights. In order to remain free you have to stay with one of the alphas who stole you from your first alpha.”
“So we’ll be staying with you.” Bruce asks. He sounds blank, but there’s definitely more going on underneath the surface. Clark can see the omega puzzling away at the situation. “You won’t divide us among the four of you?”
“We wouldn’t try. You belong together.” Is Clark’s gentle response. “Now that everything is settled, I was thinking we could introduce ourselves. I’m Clark. The blond fellow over there is Barry and the other guy is Hal. John is driving. What are your names?”
Bruce’s gaze barely flickers over to Hal and Barry, apparently deeming them safe enough for now. He continues to stare down Clark for a moment, probably trying to test Clark’s leniency. Most alphas wouldn’t allow such behavior, but Clark doesn’t care. He’s just met them and, despite what the law says, he has no right to tell them what to do. After another breath Bruce turns his head away to look over the children he’s guarding.
Clark follows his gaze
Four nearly identical faces stare back at Clark. The minimal differences are only in size, shades of skin color, and the particular hue of blue in their eyes. Bruce reaches out and touches the tallest boy with a darker shade of skin than the rest of them. His blue eyes shine deep blue-black. It’s the boy who took the lantern. He gives another smile, while Bruce says in a complete monotone, “This is Dick.”
Across the van, Hal chokes on air and Barry has to slap his back until he revives.
Clark is thankfully better at hiding his reaction, but not good enough to escape Bruce. The omega’s lips quirk up just slightly in a smug smile before it’s back to the straight face. Clark searches for a tactful response, but finally gives up. “He… You don’t have to keep the names your captors gave you.”
“We know.” Bruce’s sigh is longsuffering, but fond. “That is his name.”
The boy, Dick, gives a cheeky smile. “It’s short for Richard. My parents’ first language wasn’t English so some of the slang was lost on them.”
The boy has parents. Maybe they’ll be able to track them down. Clark opens his mouth to offer, but sees Bruce shake his head out of the corner of his eye, and instead says, “I’m very glad to meet you, Dick.”
“Not as glad as I am to meet you.” The boy replies.
Clark feels the sting of that deep in his chest.
Bruce then reaches out to touch the other older boy’s shoulder; the one draped across Tim. It’s hard to be certain which boy is oldest, but Clark is inclined to think that it’s Dick based on the way the other boy defers to him. This boy is pale with a light smattering of freckles that Clark thinks would cover his face if he were ever exposed to the sun. “This is Jason. My second son.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jason.” Clark offers, but the boy just narrows his blue-green eyes and pulls back one corner of his lips in a silent warning.
Bruce brushes his hand across Jason’s cheek briefly before resting it on Tim’s shoulder. “This is Tim.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Tim.” Clark tries to coax a smile from the pup.
The boy, paler than Jason but with eyes so blue they’re almost violet, purses his lips and then turns his back on Clark to curl up against his mother’s side.
“And this is Damian.” Bruce rests his hand on the head of the pup in his lap. This pup is darker than Tim and Jason, but lighter than Dick, with sleepy green eyes that blink at him angrily before he too nuzzles against Bruce with a yawn.
Clark feels another pang. Damian looks barely ten, if that, and even Dick and Jason don’t look old enough to either one be a legal adult.
Bruce lifts his chin just slightly in another dare for Clark to show his true colors. His eyes are the lightest; almost silver. “I am Bruce.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Bruce.” He tries to convey the truth of it, but he doesn’t push. It’s crucial that this meeting with the omegas go well so that they will feel safe living with him for the time being. “Are you hungry?”
Bruce was going to refuse him, he can tell by the frown that quickly takes up residence, but then the omega glances down at his children and gives a hesitant nod.
Clark twists to grab the lunch box they’d stashed in the van earlier and passes it to Bruce. As the omega opens it, Clark grimaces just a little. It’s all prepackaged food, in the hopes of reassuring Bruce they didn’t spike it, but there’s only enough for one omega. Bruce doesn’t complain though, just sets about calmly dividing the food among the children. Damian’s portion is carefully stored away while Tim, Jason, and Dick all nibble at theirs. Bruce leaves nothing for himself.
“We didn’t know about your children.” Clark tries to explain realizing anew, as he looks them over, that he’s going to have all of them living with him in his apartment. “All of the rumors spoke of a black haired, blue eyed omega and we thought—“
“There was only one of us?” Bruce asks dryly, shifting slightly to make room for Dick and Jason to lay down. Jason does so only at the urging of his brother, glaring at Clark as he settles in with his head pressed against Bruce’s thigh. Dick lays down beside him, one hand resting loosely over his brother’s waist.
Clark’s laughter is somewhat sheepish. “Well, yes. We should have looked into it more, but we heard rumors that they would be moving you soon and it felt better to get you out and risk surprises rather than lose you.”
Bruce shrugs, clearly disinterested. His hands gently stroke through his children’s hair and his expression softens just a little as he watches them settle in. When he looks back up, there’s a dangerous slant to his mouth. “You won’t touch them.”
It’s a threat, not a request.
“I wouldn’t dare.” Clark tries to reassure, already standing to give them space.
“Hnn.” It’s clear that Bruce doesn’t believe him, but that’s alright. He doesn’t need to believe yet. Given time, Clark will be able to prove it to them. This isn’t his first time fostering an omega, he knows better than to press.
Instead he moves over to sit by Hal and Barry.
“Are you really going to take in five omegas?” Barry looks dubious. You can’t possibly be prepared for all of them.”
“I’m not.” He admits, glancing back over at the pile of traumatized children and their mother. “But there’s no way that we can separate them.”
“That’s true enough.” Hal’s scowling slightly as he watches them as well, probably wishing he’d hit the captors harder. He’s got a good heart, but he’s better at getting the omegas out than he is at helping them adjust to real life. “Think they’re all his?”
It takes Clark a few minutes to find a good response to the tactless question. “I think he’s decided they are. I’m not sure much else matters.”