Chapter Text
Jason can’t stop shivering. There’s an uncontrollable tremor under his skin, like his whole body is shaking apart. Which is stupid, because Jason is in the middle of a nest, warm bodies pressed against him on all sides. If anything, he’s too hot.
And yet, there’s something cold deep inside him.
Someone snuffles at the back of Jason’s neck. Instinctive tension draws his chest tight. For a moment, it’s Slade at his back. Slade’s nose pressed to the scent gland beneath his jaw, his teeth on his flesh.
Another part of Jason fights to relax. Because it’s not Slade - he knows it’s not. It’s his alpha. Bitter coffee and brown sugar and warm metal thick in the air. Nothing like the heavy stink of Slade’s arousal. It’s his pack surrounding him, their familiar scents mingling with the underlying musk of his rut. It’s his packmate’s arm slung over his stomach, his alpha’s nose at his neck. But even that thought is sour in his belly. The bites on his neck throb, an unrelenting source of pain, a reminder of everything that’s happened.
Instead of feeling comforted by the closeness of his pack, Jason feels weak and sick. Most of his rut so far is nothing more than a blur. He remembers little - just sensations mostly. The painful longing in his chest. The nauseous desire for the alpha who had brutalised him. The way his body had twisted itself apart, struggling to convince him that an alpha, any alpha, even the one who had raped him, was better than this half-formed bond. The flood of emotions that had ravaged his body, confused and overwhelming, from the infliction of two conflicting bites.
At the time, Jason hadn’t thought anything of what Bruce had done, too deep in his stress rut. If anything, he’d been grateful for the steady pulse of Bruce’s bond. The way it had grounded him whenever his body had ached for Slade.
Now that his head is clearer, the worst of the stress-rut soothed by Bruce’s bond and the closeness of his pack, he’s considerably less sure how to feel about it. Mostly because he isn’t sure how to feel about anything. He’s both numb and over sensitive. His whole body aches. Everywhere his pack is touching him feels like a brand.
He shifts, uncomfortably, fighting against the whine caught in his throat.
“Jay,” Bruce rumbles, a low vibration against the back of his neck, and Jason shivers. “Are you awake sweetheart?”
“Get off me,” Jason manages. The words feel thick on his tongue. There’s a lump in his throat that they’re having to fight past, clawing their way to his mouth. “Stop touching me.”
The warmth against his back retreats. The arm slung over his stomach lifts too, but Jason can still feel his pack close around him, the heat of their bodies and the rush of their breath and the weight of their concerned eyes on him.
Feeling suddenly vulnerable, Jason forces himself upright. It takes a surprising amount of effort. The pull of his neck sets the scabbed, mangled bite Slade had left him with throbbing again. The bite on the other side of his neck aches too, although less fiercely. His body feels weak as a newborn foal, and he’s still trembling like one too.
A hand touches his back, as if to steady him. Jason flinches so violently that he almost topples right back to the bed.
“Little Wing,” Dick’s voice - a soft, omega coo designed to smooth ruffled alpha feathers. “Hey, you’re OK. You’re safe.”
The nausea in Jason’s stomach spikes. He struggles to his knees, fighting against the heaviness of his limbs and the sweat-damp covers of the nest. There are bodies between him and the edge of the bed, but he ignores them, pushing his way through until he can get his feet on solid ground.
Pressing his toes against the cold, hard wood of the floor is a relief. It settles his stomach a little, despite the blood pulsing loudly in his ears. The musky smell of his own rut is almost suffocating. He can feel the presence of his pack at his back, hesitant.
“Jason,” Bruce chuffs.
It’s the twinge of their bond that sends Jason stumbling off of the bed. Slade’s bond is still there too, fluttering at the back of his mind, although weak enough that Bruce’s stronger bond mostly drowns it out. And Bruce’s bond isn’t even fully formed. Jason hadn’t reciprocated it after all. But their shared history has given it weight. It lies over their previous bond, a perverse reflection of it.
“Stop it,” Jason gasps, staggering. “Stop. Get out of my head.”
He can feel bonds of the rest of the pack, too. Dick the strongest, beneath Bruce, but Tim and Damian are there too. There are more bruises on his neck. He’d probably begged them to bite him, deep in a stress rut caused by a half-formed bond. He might have even bitten them back.
They’re his pack, but still, the thought roils in his belly. Jason drops to one knee on the wood and gasps, trying to force away the urge to vomit. How dramatic. And yet, Jason can’t force enough strength into his limbs to do anything else.
“Jason?” It’s Tim this time. He slides off the bed and kneels beside Jason. There’s a careful lack of scent and Tim doesn’t touch him and Jason is absurdly grateful for even that small consideration. “Hey, you’re still in your rut Jason. You need to stay calm.”
Jason doesn’t think he can stay calm even if he wanted to. Coming out of a stress rut with yet another bite he had no desire to have and a mind full of bonds he never would have consented to if he’d been in the headspace to consent is not exactly Jason’s idea of a good time.
“Why?” Jason snarls, his throat choked with bitter anger. “So you can all feel better about yourselves? So you can all convince yourselves that this isn’t a total fucked up mess.”
“Jason,” Dick says from the bed, sounding genuinely wounded. “That’s not what -“
“Yes it is,” Jason snaps. “That’s exactly what this is. You think I wanted - you think you - fuck.”
Concern and hurt flutter at the back of his head. Emotions that aren’t his own. Revulsion and anger surge up his throat. It burns, but these emotions are from him at least. He can feel secure in this. Secure in his anger.
“You took the first opportunity you could, huh, Bruce?” He spits the words like poison, turning to glare at the alpha. To make sure the hits land. “How long have you been waiting to get your bite on my neck? You just couldn’t stand that I was -“
“Jason,” Bruce snarls, and despite himself, Jason flinches, feeling the weight of their bond heavy in the back of his head. “That is not what happened.”
The alpha has moved to the edge of the bed now and Jason pushes himself hastily to his feet before Bruce can loom over him, turning to fully face the threat. Kneeling on the floor is too vulnerable. He doesn’t need to give Bruce even more power over him.
“What? Like you didn’t go after Slade because you were jealous of his claim?”
“I told you,” Bruce says, his voice surprisingly steady. “That is not why I engaged Wilson.”
Jason knows he shouldn’t let Bruce get to him like this. Knows that he should try to calm down - that every last one of his packmates can probably feel the awful tightness of his chest, the warm flush of his anger, the little kernel of fear that he can’t quite squash, the same way Slade probably still can.
And yet, he’s too out of control. Everything in him is spinning wildly, wrenched free of any moorings. At the same time, the bonds in his head feel like chains.
“Stop lying,” he yells, aware of how stupid and pathetic he sounds. “Stop - stop -“
Bruce makes a soft, hurt sound and lurches off the bed towards him. Jason flinches away, but before he can make contact Dick is there, one hand on Bruce’s chest, concerned omega scent thickening in the air.
“Little Wing, that’s not fair. We didn’t have any other option.”
“No. I didn’t have any other option because you didn’t fucking give me one.”
Dick’s face twists and Jason wishes he wasn’t here - that he could have this argument alone with Bruce - because whilst the furious, rutting alpha in him is bristling for a fight with another alpha, the same alpha instincts desperately want Jason to make Dick feel better. To take care of the pack’s only omega. To tuck him into the nest and scent him until he no longer smells like hurt and worry.
It doesn’t help that the smell of Dick’s concern is trying to catapult Jason back into some of his worst memories. It’s not as bad as the caramel scent of his heat, but Jason can remember Dick’s fear as he’d been crushed underneath him. The concern that had thrummed from every gland as Jason had curled up against him in the emergency nest. And he hates that Dick triggers him like this. Hates everything about this.
“What did you want us to do, Jay?” Dick asks, softly. “You were - you were begging for him.”
Jason flinches. That night is mostly one confusing blur. He doesn’t remember that. And it’s not like he thinks Dick would lie to him, but he can’t help the automatic denial that comes out.
“No I wouldn’t -“ He stops. Swallows queasily, aware that maybe he had and hating it. “I - so what? I wasn’t thinking straight. Just ‘cause I begged Bruce -“
“Not Bruce,” Dick interrupts, sounding so pained that Jason’s instincts flare. “Slade. You were begging for Slade, Jay.”
That strikes Jason like a punch. Whatever argument he’d thought he had withers to nothing on his tongue. For a moment, all he can do is stare. There’s a strange roaring in his ears. His head feels suddenly light. When his eyes flicker from Dick’s pale face to Bruce, standing sombrely behind him, the whole room wavers around him.
Bruce looks like he’s eaten something rotten. When their gazes meet, Jason’s chest seizes like Bruce has given him a shock and he drops his eyes to the ground automatically. Tim is still crouching there, at his feet, his own face down-turned like he can’t bear to watch the car-crash happening in front of him.
“What?” Jason croaks, still staring at Tim, although the beta hadn’t been there that night and probably knows as much as Jason. “No. I - I wouldn’t.”
“Jason...” Bruce’s voice is so soft, filled with pity and a muted sort of horror and Jason hates it.
“Don’t,” he manages, choked. “Don’t -“
The idea is horrifying. He knows he’d wanted Slade, but that he’d begged for him, aloud, in front of Bruce and Dick…
He feels sick. He feels… he doesn’t know what he feels. Angry is easy. Angry makes sense.
“You’re lying,” he says tonelessly. Somehow his voice doesn’t shake.
Both Bruce and Dick’s faces do something complicated before settling on two different expressions - Bruce a sort of constipated look of concern, Dick an expression of pure devastation that Jason hates.
“Why would I lie about that?” Dick whispers and the worst thing is, Jason knows he wouldn’t. Knows he would never do that, not about this, but he can’t force any words past the constriction of his throat. “Why -? I - you think I’d use Slade as some sort of excuse? You - I watched him rape you, Jay.”
Jason’s whole body twitches at the word. With every second, Dick’s voice is rising and it’s too loud, too harsh, almost a shout.
“I had to lie there while he…” a hurt, desperate sound, “and then you were begging me to let him do it again. And I -“
He cuts off abruptly, chest heaving. Then, considerably quieter, “Bruce did what he could.”
Jason’s eyes burn. His chest hurts. He can feel Slade’s bond at the back of his head, and Bruce’s. He can hear the rush of his own pulse. He can - he can’t breathe. The smell of Dick is everywhere and Slade is pressing his face into the omega’s neck, rutting painfully against him, and Jason can practically taste his fear and Slade’s arousal and Dick’s too, because he can’t escape that.
Someone touches him and Jason jerks away with a snarl. Distantly, he can hear someone calling his name but he can’t respond because he can’t breathe and there’s a strange energy thrumming through his whole body and his rut feels like it’s trying to burst through his skin and he can smell his own musk and fear and…
A high puppy whine splits the air. Jason responds automatically, twitching towards the sound, a protective growl rising through his chest. Someone touches him again, then there’s a warm weight against his side and milky, puppy scent in his nose and Jason hunches around Damian, curling protectively over him. In the back of his head, Damian’s bond flutters.
There’s a tangy edge of discomfort in the pup’s scent. Jason starts to rub his chin over Damian’s dark hair, but his own scent is still thick with panic and even through the fog in his head, he’s aware that smearing his own discomfort across Damian isn’t likely to help.
Besides, it’s his fault, Jason realises, feeling the twinge of their bond as he clutches at the pup. It’s him that’s upsetting Damian. It’s his fear thrumming through the bond between them - all of his bonds. He has no doubt that Slade can feel his distress through their half-formed bond too and the thought makes him feel even sicker.
“Todd,” Damian says, low, in what’s almost a growl. “I demand that you stop this at once.”
Jason swallows thickly, struggling to level his breathing and reign in his scent. He’d forgotten that Damian would be here, in the nest. That Damian would be able to sense Jason’s roiling emotions through their bond. That Damian would have heard Jason and Dick yelling at each other about how Slade had raped him.
“Sorry kid,” Jason manages, roughly.
Damian hums. For a moment, he rubs his cheek against Jason’s shirt in a movement that’s painfully child-like, before pulling away. Jason lets him go. It’s the first time he’s ever actually held the kid, he realises. Even when they had bitten each other, in the past, it was always quick. Perfunctory. Jason is surprised by how good it had felt to have the kid in his arms.
With Damian gone, there's nothing to distract him from the heavy weight of Bruce's eyes. They bore into Jason, but he can't bring himself to meet them.
“Jason,” Bruce starts, hesitantly, and Jason tenses again. “I’m sorry.”
The words are a dull shock. Jason isn’t sure what he was expecting - excuses maybe, or maybe more awful revelations - but it wasn’t this. An apology.
When Jason doesn’t speak, Bruce hums. Clears his throat. Tries again.
“I’m sorry, Jason. I should never have bitten you without your consent. But I -”
He stops. Jason sees movement out of the corner of his eye and braces himself in case Bruce is reaching out to touch him, but he doesn’t. Jason imagines him pinching the bridge of his nose or rubbing over his face even though he still can’t bring himself to look up.
“I’m sorry,” Bruce says again, like it’s the only thing he can say. “It will fade, with time. Just like Slade’s will.”
Jason feels a strange throb in his chest. He should be glad of that. If he’d been in his right mind he would have never agreed to a bite from Bruce. He might keep up the bonds with the rest of the pack, but he has no desire to have Bruce in the back of his head. But now that the bond is there - an echo of the one they’d used to have, before Jason had died and the possibility of reinforcing it ever again had been brutally destroyed - now that Jason is a little calmer, he finds the idea of it fading strangely painful.
He shouldn’t. He should be as relieved by the idea of it fading as he is by the idea of Slade’s bond disappearing. Even in his anger, he’d known that it wasn’t permanent - not the way he’d been terrified that Slade’s might be. Despite all his faults and his awful, controlling attitude to the pack, Bruce would never have bitten him badly enough to actually damage his gland. If he wants to keep the bond between them, Jason will need to let Bruce bite him again and again whenever it starts to fade. Jason doesn’t want that.
Except the small part of him that does.
Jason opens his mouth to say something derisive, something cutting to crush that stupid little swell of desire in his own chest. Instead, what comes out is: “It will fade, won’t it? Slade’s?”
The words are pathetically small. Jason feels heat bloom across the back of his neck, a hot flush in his cheeks. And yet, he can’t take them back. He can feel Slade’s bond at the back of his head. He needs - he needs to know that it won’t be there forever. That he won’t always have this awful connection to his rapist. The scar of the bite is bad enough. A reminder of his rape that will never fade.
Dick makes a wounded noise. When Jason finally looks up, his whole pack is watching him with careful eyes. Bruce’s face is soft and pained.
“It will, Jay. I promise. The damage to your gland isn’t permanent. There’s no reason it won’t fade with time.”
Jason wraps his arms around himself, a queasy sort of relief in his gut.
“How - how long?” he manages.
Bruce hums. “It’s impossible to tell for sure. My bond will likely fade first.”
Which means Slade’s will be the strongest bond in Jason’s head.
The thought is not a pleasant one.
The bond would disappear immediately if he killed Slade, Jason knows. He’s sure the thought is part of what had spurred Bruce into going after him. Not that Jason thinks Batman would ever have killed him - no matter how angry and possessive Bruce had been. Even Jason’s death hadn’t been enough for Bruce to break his one rule. A bond that will fade eventually - no matter how much Jason wants it gone now hardly compares.
Maybe it hadn’t even been a factor. Maybe Bruce had just been following his instincts, angry and wanting to reassert his control over Jason, his possession of his pack.
Jason could kill Slade. He doesn’t need Bruce to protect him like that. But…the memory of teeth on his skin, of how easily Slade had controlled him, both times, is burned into Jason’s mind. He can’t go against Slade. He knows that even if it hurts to admit it.
If Slade dies, it won’t be at the hands of any of Jason’s pack.
Jason shivers. Dick, ever ready to fill the pack omega role, coos softly. No one other than Damian has touched him since his desperate scramble out of the nest, he’s noticed. He isn’t quite sure how to feel about that.
“Will you -“ Dick starts, haltingly, “- will you come back to the nest? You’re still in rut.”
Automatically, Jason bristles. The last thing he wants to do is get back in the nest with Bruce, not now he’s lucid and aware enough to feel betrayed. He’s spent plenty of ruts by himself before - he doesn’t need to put himself in that position.
But normally Jason doesn’t have a confusing mix of bonds in his head and a litter of bite marks on his throat. Normally he hasn’t already spent half his rut in the pack nest, being soothed by their scents and their closeness. Despite everything, Jason’s instincts ache for it. For the safety it represents.
He hates it. It’s just another way that his body has betrayed him. Another way that Bruce has used his weakness to control him. But Jason can’t deny the strength of his desire.
“I’m not staying here,” he snarls, squashing his instincts with a painful sort of anger. “I'm not getting back in that nest after - after -“
Dick swallows. “Please,” he begs. “You shouldn’t be alone, Jay. You helped me through my heat even though…”
He stops before finishing that sentence, clearly thinking better of it, but Jason can complete it himself. Even though it reminded you of Slade. Even though it triggered you. And yeah, he had. But that had been for Dick, because he’d been hurt and in need of reassurance. Jason doesn’t need that. He doesn’t.
“Please let me do the same for you.”
Jason starts to shake his head, even though it hurts to deny the omega while Jason is still beholden to the instincts of his rut. But Bruce cuts him off, clearing his throat harshly.
“Would it help if I left?”
The words sound strained. Like it was a struggle to get them out and once again, Jason is gobsmacked. Something in his chest flares, hot and painful.
“No,” Jason says, before he can stop himself. “No, you don’t need to leave.”
Because the thought of getting into the nest without Bruce, with the alpha’s bond heavy in his head, makes his stomach turn queasily. It’s just his rut, he tells himself. And that’s the only reason he wants to get back into the nest - because of his rut, because of the bonds. If his head was clearer, he wouldn’t do this.
But he’s tired and he hurts and he can feel Slade in his head, and his instincts rail against the idea of spending the rest of his rut alone and Jason doesn’t want to fight anymore. He doesn’t have the energy.
So, before he can think better of it, he pushes past his pack and crawls, stiffly, back into the nest. Almost immediately, Dick slips in after him, curling close but not touching and Jason is already regretting agreeing to this, but he can’t deny the way the tension in his chest eases. There’s a moment of hesitation before anyone else follows him, but eventually, it’s only Bruce left, standing just outside of the nest.
“B,” Jason growls when it doesn’t look like he’s going to move to follow. “I’m still angry, but I’m not going to tear your head off. You can get in.”
Carefully, Bruce does. With the size of the nest, he can’t avoid touching Jason, one broad arm brushing Jason’s back. The pack bonds in Jason’s head flare, sudden and strong and for a moment, Slade is almost entirely drowned out.
The part of Jason that can’t deny he’s still scared - scared of Slade and his bond and his bite - eases a little. Despite everything, having his pack alpha in his nest soothes Jason’s instincts. Despite everything, Bruce still makes him feel safe. With the bond fresh in his head, those instincts are stronger than ever. Eventually, it will fade, and Jason will get to choose whether he lets Bruce bite him again. Despite his anger, if Slade’s bond is still intact, he can’t be certain he won’t ask for it, this time.
As discreetly as he can, Jason turns his head, trying to catch Bruce’s scent. If the alpha notices, he doesn’t give any indication of it, but Jason thinks the scent of protective pack alpha thickens in the air. Beside him, Dick starts a soothing purr.
Jason lets his eyes slide shut. He can reassert his boundaries once his rut is over. For now, he can tolerate this.