It's a man's world

by dandylionsummer

Summary:

Finding kink in a social commentary on misogyny. Please don't read if you don't think you'll like that. (We can't help that our kinks are the opposite of our beliefs sometimes...)

I twistedly love the idea of Dick being the only Omega in the Batfam and the rest of the clan being a mix of Beta and Alpha and there just being this subtle, casual sexism and objectification of him by his fam.

Like, they would still respect him as an experienced vigilante and love him as a brother/son, but there would just be this undercurrent of sexual attraction as well as the entitlement and the familiarity to just indulge in it a bit.

Dick wouldn’t kick up a fuss because it’s his family and he loves that they show affection in their own ways. And, honestly, he would be a little blind to any ulterior motives because of always just believing the best about them.

Chapter 1

“No. Up there,” Tim says, reaching across and taking control of the mouse, and Dick’s hand as a result. 

 

Dick resists the urge to roll his eyes because it has always been this way with Tim. Everyone knows he is the resident Genius(™) and computer wiz and that he’s almost always right when data and decoding are involved. So when Tim lays his hand on top of Dick’s and begins moving the mouse for him like a pushy spirit moving a Ouija board planchette, guiding the cursor up to the top of the map to select a different target than the one Dick had picked, Dick just lets him take over.

 

“See?” Tim says, still leaning into Dick’s space from behind the chair, his longish bangs brushing Dick’s cheek as he keeps one hand on Dick’s on the mouse and uses the other to type out a rapid command on the keyboard. 

 

Dick is barely paying attention to the screen now, zoning out in his own mind instead, as he knows Tim will ultimately solve this case quickly now that he has a hunch . He barely registers that Tim was trying to show him or teach him (or gloat or just be Tim at him…) he was so wrapped up in watching those long fingers and their quick, confident keystrokes.

 

“Heh, yeah Timmy. Thank you. I think I’m just tired,” Dick concedes, attempting to move to relinquish the computer chair to the obviously rightful occupant. But Tim’s hold on his hand is firm and his arm, where it comes around the side of the chair to grasp the mouse, acts as a barrier. 

 

When Tim doesn’t move, despite a tentative pull from Dick to regain his hand, Dick turns his head towards Tim and is suddenly face to face with his younger brother, noses bumping.

 

“Yeah,” Tim smiles, maybe a little smugly. “Get some rest. Goodnight, Dick.” 

 

“Thanks. Goodnight, Tim.”

 

Dick’s not certain, and he’s probably wrong entirely, but it felt almost like Tim sniffed his hair as he was rising to leave Tim to close the case that Dick had been working on for three weeks. But he’s probably just imagining that. God, he’s hallucinating. He must be more tired than he realized. Tim was right. He needed some rest…

Chapter 2

Dick hated it when Alfred was angry with him. Absolutely hated it. 

 

He couldn’t stand the way the usually warm expression would turn so unexpectedly cold. How he felt utterly leveled by the disappointment in the old man’s gaze– terrified each time the prim wrath was turned on him that he would never be able to claw his way out of this pit and back into the sunlight of Alfred’s good graces. 

 

It had been like this since he was young. Back then, the anger was more frequent, but also more tempered. Almost as though Dick’s youth allowed him the advantage of a milder rage, seeing as he was still learning the rules of the world and was expected to trip up from time to time. ‘ Children will be children’ and all that…

 

The punishments back then had ranged, from typical things like being sent to bed without supper or being grounded with the addition of extra weekend chores, to the more physical and demeaning- like being struck across the palms with a wooden spoon, having his ears boxed, or having his nose stuck in a corner for what felt like an eternity, only to be removed only upon pain of the switch or until Alfred said so. (Dick had seen the switch once, but had never allowed his nose to leave the corner to find out exactly what it would do, thank goodness.)

 

But all that was before . Before Dick had any comparison of siblings at all. And all for silly, stupid, childish antics like swinging on a chandelier, sliding down the bannister, or for carelessness, like breaking a vase, leaving a watermark on a surface by not using a coaster, or simply forgetting to do his homework. 

 

Once Jason had come along–and which was verified doubly after Tim, and then confirmed again with Cass, and yet again with Damian– Dick had realized that these punishments and this anger seemed to be reserved solely for him. 

 

At first, it colored his mind with a foggy kind of sadness and confusion when he watched the others shout and swear, fight and destroy things, with nothing so much as a ‘ Master Jason, go to your room! ’ or a ‘ Master Timothy, clean that up right away! ’ or a ‘ Mistress Cassandra, we do not sit on that! That is a priceless antique! ’ or even a ‘ Master Damian, apologize to Master Timothy right this instant! ’ 

 

Instead, Dick watched as Alfred witnessed (what Dick had thought was) crime after crime and did nothing . Dick watched as their adoptive grandfather looked upon the others with nothing more than mild disappointment (or even sometimes fond exasperation!) and held his tongue, seemingly intent on keeping the peace and keeping the house in running order and not concerned whatsoever with raising these children to obey the very rules that Dick had so thoroughly been taught. 

 

And…Dick got it now. After a while, he realized this too. That those were his lessons to learn because he was the first. 

 

He was the oldest, and as such, there came a responsibility to help the elder generation teach the younger generation. So, it made sense that Dick had had to learn those rules so he could help warn his siblings away from their own bad decisions and poor choices. 

 

It also meant, as the eldest child, that their failure was his too. He accepted that. That it was part of the burden of being the oldest. It was a luxury, afterall, to have so many wonderful siblings that he loved so unbelievably much. And if having them in his life meant he had to shoulder a little more responsibility, well then, he would happily take it.

Chapter 3

When Jason had come into their lives, Dick can admit now that he did not initially handle things well. 

 

He had been in such a bad place in his relationship with Bruce, and so…surprised and… devastated when he found out that Robin had been given away and that he had just been replaced so easily as a partner that he hadn’t come around much. Understandably. And on the rare occasion he did, it was never really a pleasant experience for anyone.

 

But, Dick is proud to say, that as months passed and his head and emotions had cleared some, Dick had realized that no matter what the state of his relationship with Bruce was, Jason didn’t deserve to bear the blame of the man’s decisions. So Dick had sucked it up and had begun putting in the effort to get to know this kid.

 

It had been kind of a rocky start, Jason being quick to distrust, especially after experiencing the worst side of Dick from the beginning. But Jason was also a good judge of character and was smart. He had quickly realized that Dick was really trying to be a brother and a friend and that Bruce was the catalyst for all of the negativity that he had experienced early on with his predecessor. And so, they had eventually reached an unvoiced understanding. This was an official do-over. 

 

And what a great do-over it had been!

The two boys got close. First, bonding over surface interests like movies and video games, and eventually getting deeper. They taught each other new things, like cooking (Jason) and mechanics (Dick) and introduced one another into their nerdy obsessions- Jason utterly geeking out over literature and poetry and Dick revealing his secret love of rube goldberg machines and vaudeville-style comedy…

 

Even though Dick lived in Bludhaven, it had somehow become assumed that one night every weekend he would patrol with Jason and then sleep over at the Manor, sometimes in his own room, and sometimes in Jason’s if the video games and nerdery caught up with them early in the morning hours. 

 

It was over the span of many weekends like this that the two brothers hit peak comfort levels, sharing everything and showing no shame. Farting and burping became competitive sports, it was not uncommon to see a bicep mottled black and blue that had gone to bed the night before unbruised, due to their never-ending punching games- Not looking? Punch! Cheated at the game? Punch! Grabbed the last piece of pizza from the box first? Punch!

 

It was amid this comfort and these nonsensical and goofy games and antics that Dick’s secondary gender had somehow become something to play with, as well.

 

What had started as an impromptu wrestling match one night had devolved in regular spirit into a tickle fight. Dick was frequently the victor of these matches due to his nearing adult size while Jason was still in the awkward phase of his own teen body, but that night, Jason had the upper hand. Dick was on his back and Jason knew that his older brother’s primary tickle zone was the armpits. He straddled his brother’s slightly larger frame and his hands shot forward. But just as he was about to reach his targets, Dick clamped his arms down, effectively shutting Jason out of his weak spot, and Jason’s hands went scrambling for something, anything ticklish he could find. 

 

Which was when his hands discovered Dick’s budding breasts. 

 

“AH–J-Jay!” Dick yelped and then squeaked as his younger brother’s fingers crept across the growing mounds, punctuating the sensitive flesh with pokes and exploratory pressure.

 

“The fuck?” Jason’s brow wrinkled, ignoring or perhaps not noticing Dick’s discomfort, suddenly very focused on the new developments before him. “You have tits?”

 

When Jason’s confused and contemplative eyes looked up into Dick’s, Dick’s face flamed red and he instinctively rolled to the side to throw his brother off of him. 

 

“Hey,” Jason tried when Dick didn’t turn back or sit up. “Hey.”

 

He watched as his older brother curled a little further into himself, trying to hide his reddened face and obvious embarrassment. Tried to shut Jason out. 

 

Uh-uh. No way. Jason wasn’t having that.

 

Dick’s back flinched when Jason placed his hand there, gently trying to roll him back to face him. 

 

“Dick, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Don’t cry….Please?”

Jason’s gentle prodding, repentant words, and regretful tone- which made him sound like a puppy with his tail between his legs- eventually won out.

 

Dick rolled onto his back and sat up, scooching backwards so he could sit with his back straight against the bed’s headboard. He tried to discretely wipe his eyes and attempted to feign ‘casually aloof,’ crossing his arms protectively over his chest as he looked ahead at the TV which still played some movie to which Dick and Jason had long stopped paying attention.

 

Jason, looking unsure and contrite, took Dick’s cues and settled back against the headboard as well, leaving a little space between them. 

 

After about ten minutes of quiet contemplation of the movie’s unknown plot, Jason scooted a little towards Dick, knocking his shoulder into the other boy’s softly.

 

“...forgive me?” Jason murmured, and when Dick glanced sideways, he could see the half genuine-half exaggerated pleading that Jason was sending his way: brows drawn together upwards, bottom lip pouted out, gaze bashful through eyelashes…

 

Dick rolled his eyes, playing exasperated, but unable to fully hide the smile that tugged at his lips. 

“Fine,” he sighed, and knocked back into Jason’s shoulder with his own, much harder than Jason’s bump had been.

 

Jay snorted, bumping one more time before scooting all the way over so that his hips were pressed against Dick’s, snaking his arm around his brother’s waist from behind and laying his head on the older boy’s shoulder.

 

Dick felt his cheeks heat up once more as he felt Jason’s thumb playing with the hem of his shirt, but this time, both of their eyes stayed on the movie until they eventually nodded off.

Chapter 4

The years leading up to Bruce and Dick’s eventual separation had, in retrospect, been a big indicator that they were headed towards disaster. 

 

To hear Bruce tell it, he couldn’t trust Dick anymore. Everytime he gave an order in costume, it seemed as though Dick would disobey him. And how could Dick be his partner if Bruce couldn’t trust him??

 

From Dick’s point of view, things were a little different, though.

 

Bruce was out of control. He had gone power mad and picked every fight with Dick that he could think of. Every tiny action was micromanaged and he was unwilling to even hear Dick’s ideas. If Dick so much as had a thought or chased a shadow without permission, he got benched for a week. It wasn’t fair and it certainly wasn’t how partners treated each other.

 

The tension had been thick in those years. Developing as a result of the stress and fear that came with the life or death situations that they tackled nightly, but it had started to bleed over into days…

 

One afternoon, during one of the aforementioned benchings of Robin, Dick walked past Bruce’s office door on his way to his bedroom, having just gotten home from school, when he was summoned inside.

 

Dick glowered as he entered, knowing that whatever Bruce wanted, it wasn’t going to be anything he liked.

 

“Your school called,” Bruce grunted, meeting his son’s hard scowl with one of his own.

 

Dick didn’t say anything. 

 

“They said you skipped your last two periods,” Bruce said, and lifted his jaw slightly, indicating that he wanted a response.

 

Dick glared silently for a moment more before relenting reluctantly. 

 

“I was in the library. Lost track of time,” he grumbled, looking off to the side to avoid unnecessary eye contact.

 

There was silence. Then a creaking sound as the leather chair shifted.

 

“You and I both know that is not the truth,” Bruce spoke haltingly, as if he was having to hold himself back from a more violent outburst.

 

“It is,” Dick opposed, raising his gaze to look into Bruce’s face stubbornly, face full of the righteous anger that only a sixteen year old could harbor.

 

“I’m giving you one more chance to tell me what you were doing,” Bruce ground out as he stood, jaw clenched.

 

“I. Was. In. The. Library.” Dick met Bruce’s ire in spades. 

 

Dick’s fury didn’t extinguish or morph into fear as Bruce rounded his desk and approached him. Bruce was too fast to telegraph and so Dick hadn’t even seen the threat coming.

 

From one second to the next, Dick was standing, staring obstinately up into his father figure’s face, and then he was down, across Bruce’s lap on the couch, wriggling and struggling to right himself, to no avail.

 

“I know you were staking out the laboratory,” Bruce growled as he effectively pinned Dick’s wrists with one hand while pulling his belt, pants, and underwear down with the other. 

 

“Let me go!” Dick surged up and back with all his strength, but Bruce anticipated every move and countered his pressure and holds accordingly. 

 

“You’ve got to learn, Dick.”

 

And then the first smack landed, the horrifying sound slapping Dick into submission as much as the physical sting. From here, more smacks rained down in succession. 

 

“You could have been hurt,” Bruce lectured as he spanked.

 

“An Omega, all alone, without backup.” There was a strained quality to Bruce’s voice as he spoke and struck. One which had nothing to do with the strength required to keep Dick subdued.

 

“Bruce…Stop,” Dick pleaded, although his body was limp. He heard the quiver in his own voice, felt the tears pricking at his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the burning pain across his rear end or because the truth was finally coming out in Bruce’s speech.

 

He was an Omega.

 

He would never be able to impress Bruce. To be good enough to be trusted out alone. 

 

Bruce thought he was weak .

 

Dick burst into tears suddenly, halting Bruce’s next strike at the unexpected outburst. 

 

He lay there, across Bruce’s lap, shaking with sobs, and after several minutes, he felt large hands pulling him back upright, maneuvering him to sit on the lap he was just punished upon, feeling suddenly cherished for no clear reason.

 

“Chum,” Bruce gasped, taking in Dick’s reddened, tear-streaked face. Acting bewildered at the response, as if he had nothing to do with its provenance. 

 

He quickly grabbed his handkerchief out of his pocket and moved to mop up the snot bubbling out of the teen’s nose.

 

“You scared me ,” he said, crushing Dick’s head to his shoulder. 

 

Dick only nodded rigorously into Bruce’s neck to indicate that he heard Bruce, that he understood. To his embarrassment, he was still blubbering on like a baby and couldn’t get enough control to stop. 

 

They sat like this for several minutes, Bruce cradling Dick on his lap, petting his hair and rubbing his back while he rocked his crying son and shushed him. 

 

Dick’s eyes closed as his sobs quieted down to sniffles and whimpers. He wanted to stand, to wipe his face and pull his pants back up over his cherry red ass, but he didn’t want to leave the comfort of his father’s arms, suddenly receiving the protective, fatherly love that he had been denied and yet had craved for so long. 

 

He clutched Bruce’s shirt as he started to drift, his energy drained and his mind wanting to give in to sleep now.

 

A while later he thought he registered the feeling of being shifted, of warm leather against his cheek as he snuggled down onto the couch. 

 

He felt fingertips, thick with balm or ointment, rubbing over his swollen backside.

 

There was a kiss pressed into the top of his head, soft pressure on his scalp through his hair.

 

Then the lights were turned off.

 

“Rest.”

 

And he heard the door clicked softly shut. 

Chapter 5

It didn’t matter where he was, Dick always seemed to be in the way.

 

There was a running joke in their family that for someone who had so much grace and acrobatic skill, Dick seemed to totally lack awareness of his body when not flying and flipping through the sky.

 

Dick took it all in stride, laughing right along with his family most times, as he couldn’t dispute it, they did seem to be right.

 

It seemed like everytime Dick turned around, someone was moving him or maneuvering him to position him differently or relocate him. 

 

He couldn’t get a thing from the fridge or try to look at the screen of the batcomputer without feeling the press of a hand to his lower back, ensuring that he didn’t step back into the other body sliding past in close proximity. 

 

It was a frequent occurrence to feel the press of firm fingertips to the sides of his waist, shifting his body over a few inches or even a couple feet to make room for another person next to whatever surface he stood at.

 

A few times in his life, ok…a lot of times in his life, at every age, Dick had been caught dipping a finger into a bowl of cookie dough left unsupervised on the counter only to be chastised upon the butler’s return and told he would ‘ ruin his dinner ’ or ‘ die of salmonella poisoning’ ’ and was repeatedly swatted on the behind until he vacated the area. 

 

Those occasions usually left Dick smiling despite being successfully chased away, except for the odd occasion on which he was told something along the lines of, ‘ You’ll get positively too plump for your suit! ’

 

Those few times had left Dick feeling especially depressed, seeing as they only seemed to happen when he was already feeling extremely insecure, like the time he was obviously going through a growth spurt and was rapidly outgrowing his clothing and was always hungry. Sometimes it felt as though there was an expectation hidden somewhere in there…

 

But those times had been so rare, it was likely just one of those parental things that is said without thought. Dick hardly ever thought on it anymore. 

 

No, it wasn’t a big deal. Nor was it a big deal that his family made fun of him for taking up space. It was all good natured and joking. The manhandling wasn’t even harsh or mean, just helpful, really. Dick didn’t want to be in their way. He was glad he could make them smile, too, even if it was at his own expense.

Chapter 6

When Tim joined the family, Dick had sworn to be a better brother from the start. 

 

No one could replace Jason, his beloved baby brother, but Dick was ready to welcome and love a new sibling, even as his heart ached for the one that had been lost.

 

By this time, too, Dick had been older, more mature and more at-home in his own skin. He was an unapologetic Omega. He could hold his own with the big boy Alphas and had nothing to prove as a vigilante or otherwise. His relationship with Bruce had also gotten a lot better over the years, thank goodness.

 

Tim was shy initially, but quickly opened up to the occupants of the Manor, obviously as ready to receive love and familial affection as Bruce, Dick, and Alfred were ready to give it. 

 

Dick felt for the kid, too, coming from such a neglectful household and all. It made sense why Tim embraced all the love and attention he could get. And Dick wanted to give it. Maybe it was part Omegan instinct, too, to take in this runty orphan and care for him and coddle him, who knew? Either way, the two grew close quickly as a result.

 

It was a regular occurrence for Dick to stay a few nights at the Manor or for Tim to sleep over at Dick’s Bludhaven apartment for the weekend. Some of their bonding resembled the nights spent with Jason in Dick’s late teens, but there were differences, as well. 

 

Movie and video game nights were a standard, but instead of playful roughhousing and late night talks, Dick and Tim’s bonding was softer and slower. Movies always included snuggling, and video games, although more conducive to conversation, didn’t allow for the sharing of secrets and deepest, darkest thoughts, but more…factual. Stories about each others’ days. 

 

Dick wasn’t unhappy with the difference, though. Not at all. 

 

He recognized that Tim was very different from Jason and was in no way trying to make the boy fit into his predecessor’s shoes. 

 

No, Dick savored the things that made Tim Tim and enjoyed getting to know the curious, logical boy who enjoyed and seemed to need physical affection in order to thrive.

 

On movie nights, they always started off side-by-side on the couch, sharing a blanket and facing forward to watch the movie. But as the movie progressed and the snacks ran out, Tim would always find a way to snuggle up close, fitting himself into Dick’s side as though it was a mold from which he was cast.

 

Most of the time, one of Tim’s hands would absently reach up at some point and either grasp at Dick’s bicep and shirt sleeve, or he would curl a hand around the back of the older boy’s shoulders, clinging on like a sloth, and gently pull on a silken-soft rope of Dick’s longish hair.

 

Dick loved the snuggles. He lived for them. Honestly, he got as much out of the cuddling as Tim seemed to, and as a bonus, he felt like a good older brother for being able to give something to Tim that he so obviously needed and sought.

 

One night, as the movie wore on and Tim had wrapped his little marsupial-self around Dick, instead of playing with Dick’s hair on the other side of his body, Tim’s hand gently rested on Dick’s opposite shoulder. 

 

The weight was unobtrusive and still and as Dick’s eyelids were getting heavy and he was using all his remaining energy not spent on the force that day to try to focus on the film’s plot, Tim’s fingers began brushing the side of his neck, tickling the skin and peach fuzz-like hairs there surrounding Dick’s scent gland.

 

Dick hummed at the motion, eyes still struggling to stay open. He didn’t seem to consciously register the action. 

 

As minutes passed, the light, brushing tickles turned into more firm strokes, fingers replaced by thumb. On the opposite side, Tim nuzzled his nose in close to the juncture between Dick’s neck and his shoulder, Dick’s loose crew neck slipping to accommodate his rooting. 

 

At some point, Dick’s eyes had slid shut without his knowledge. The warm stimulation on either side of his neck lulling him deeper into his sleepy haze. 

 

When a strong, low moan emanated up out of his throat and through his slack lips, a string of drool accompanying it, Dick’s head snapped up from where it had slumped down, chin to chest, his eyes blowing open.

 

“TIM!” he cried, wresting himself from the boy’s embrace and distracted fingers as he jumped up from the couch. 

 

Tim’s eyes were wide, shocked or maybe frightened, “What?!” he gasped, clearly baffled. Dick wondered briefly if perhaps Tim had fallen asleep as well, if maybe his actions were completely subconscious and innocent.

 

Dick blinked down at the tense kid, forcing his own hackles to lower. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again. 

 

“Nothing. Sorry,” Dick smiled down reassuringly. “I’m sorry I scared you, Timmy. I think I had a bad dream.” 

 

Dick laughed a little and scratched the back of his head, embarrassed at his reaction. Tim was just a kid. There was no way his sweet baby brother was stimulating submission on purpose!

 

When Dick excused himself to the restroom, Tim’s observant gaze tracked his brother’s absolutely drenched backside, noting the unacknowledged change of clothing upon his return. 

 

There was a presence that Tim acknowledged within himself that purred quietly at his observations.

Chapter 7

It took a long time to bring Jason back into the family fold when he returned– inexplicably, unbelievably, amazingly– from death. 

 

The first hurdle they had to overcome was his desire for revenge.

 

It took a long time and yes, there was a body count, but they had done it.

Water under the bridge.

 

The second was the utter betrayal he felt when he had learned of Tim’s new place in the family, especially due to the teenager’s status as a burgeoning young Alpha and as a respected and valued teammate and member of the family.

 

That’s certainly not how Jason remembered that puberty song and dance going in the manor or the cave, but somehow, they had mostly mended that, as well.

 

The third hurdle, and really they should have seen this one coming a mile away, was that between Jason, an admittedly hot-headed Alpha, Bruce, the fucking ultimate asshole, controlling knothead (in Jason’s opinion, anyway), and this new-age tiny tech genius thing that was still an Alpha , even if he didn’t appear outwardly like those of societal stereotype, Alfred’s already long-weary Beta pheromones were going to be no match to sooth the three’s inner beasts all just waiting to bump heads at every disagreement or perceived slight. 

 

It was due to this consensus realization that Dick had found himself arriving to a rather formal invitation at the manor that night.

 

He rubbed a hand up and down one arm after ringing the bell to stave off the chill. It was late October and Dick had characterically forgotten his jacket on his way out of his apartment.

 

“Master Dick, so nice of you to come,” Alfred greeted, a pleased smile on his face as he warmly ushered Dick in the door and out of the brisk evening air.

 

“Come in, come in, before you catch a cold, dear boy,” Alfred tutted. Dick smiled apologetically at the old Beta, having received harsher reprimands for the same behavior countless times in the past.

 

Alfred let the small transgression go and instead guided Dick further into the house, one hand gently applying pressure to the small of the Omega’s back and the other, palm up, directing him into the dining room.

 

Dick noted the glow of candles and the fine china set on the table as he smiled at his family, already seated at the table. 

 

“Dick!” Bruce pushed his chair away from the table and stood, striding over to Dick and wrapping him up in a firm embrace. 

 

“Hey, B,” Dick said, almost shyly. He sighed, relaxing into the hug just before Bruce released him and then guided him, much as Alfred had by the small of the back, to his regular seat, immediately to the left of Bruce’s seat at the table’s head.

 

As Bruce assisted Dick in sitting and pushing his chair up to the table, Dick’s eyes met those of Jason a few feet away to Dick’s left, and Tim, across the table from him. 

 

“Hey guys,” the older man smiled warmly at his younger brothers.

 

“Dickie,” Jason acknowledged, dipping his head in a respectful nod. 

 

“Hi Dick!” Tim said with a little too much enthusiasm. 

 

Dick chuckled in response. “How’s it going?”

 

Before Tim could answer, Bruce cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him, the Alpha having returned to his chair and was clearly ready to cut to the chase.

 

“Dick,” he began–again, oddly formal– “we have invited you here tonight to ask that you return to the manor.” 

 

Dick was just about to answer, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he was about to point out that he was already here, when it hit Dick that that was not what Bruce meant. 

 

His brow furrowed and all traces of humor fled his expression as he looked on at Bruce’s stoic face, awaiting response.

 

“I..I live in Bludhaven now, Bruce.”

 

Dick’s voice was small to his own ears. Distantly, he might have been aware that he sounded almost scared, like someone about to take on a fight they were destined to lose.

 

“And while you have done good things there, you can contribute just as much back here in Gotham,” Bruce said with an air of benevolence. As if Dick should be grateful that he would still be allowed to contribute to society . 

 

“I wor–”

 

“You can work in the GCPD now. I’m sure the transfer would be no problem, and I’ve already spoken with Jim.”

 

Dick fumed. He watched incredulously as Bruce cut up his steak and brought the fork up to his mouth, chewing as if everything had been discussed and agreed upon. As if this conversation was over. As if he hadn’t just arranged for Dick’s job and life to relocate without his permission!

 

“Absolutely not!” Dick spat, his own silverware clattering as he shoved back from the table roughly. 

 

He was about to stand and walk right back out the front door when a hand applying a familiar gentle pressure on his shoulder stopped him from rising. 

 

No.

 

“Dick, please?” Tim piped up, taking this sick moment in which Dick realized that Alfred was preventing him from leaving and thus in agreement with the demand that he throw his life away, to throw puppy eyes at him along with all the implied guilt they could inspire.

 

Three knives in his back.

 

Dick was almost too afraid, but he had to know. Slowly, he turned his head to the left, seeking out Jason. Was his Little Wing, his closest family member and one of his best friends, also asking Dick to abort all his life goals and return to the childhood home in which Jason knew Dick had spent too many unhappy years, stifled and punished by the blurred lines between bat and man, mission and life?!

 

The fact that Jason could not meet his eyes said it all.

 

“--and it would be so cool if we got to hang out more and patrol together more. You could train me on the gymnastics equipment! It’ll be awesome–”

 

Dick briefly registered that Tim was still talking, beseeching him and trying to persuade him to live here. In this Alpha den. 

 

As Alfred’s hand patted his shoulder, Dick focused in on the old butler’s calm words.

 

“Your presence will have a balancing effect, Master Dick. I know you wouldn’t want to let your family down.”

 

It was then, as Alfred’s hand left his shoulder and as Tim filled the silence with bubbly, childish wishes, as if this would be some giant slumber party instead of a prison, in between his silent, chilly father who sat eating his dinner, and his younger brother and friend who should know how devastating this would be for Dick, that the Omega realized that that was all he was. This is what he was good for. He was valuable to his family as an Omega. 

 

Dick’s entire body slumped, his chin almost hitting his chest as he felt the fight drain out of him all at once. Resignation and numbness taking its place and leaving Dick feeling tired, so tired, and empty.

 

“You alright, son?” Bruce asked, looking up from his plate.

 

“Just tired,” Dick answered softly after a beat. “May I be excused?”

 

“Of course,” Bruce said fondly, “Alfred already made your bed up.”

 

With that, Dick stood slowly from the table and began the long trudge up to his bedroom.

Chapter 8

Summary:

So far the chapters have a bit of a flow, but bounce around in the timeline.
This chapter will have others that follow in sequence.

When Damian joined the family, there was a period of adjustment for all, but the Bats had gotten a lot better at family over the years, and faster than expected, Damian had accepted them each, in his own way.

 

That’s not to say the young teenager was not still prickly. That particular personality trait seemed to be a trademark rather than a phase... But, the barbs stung less when everyone knew where they stood with the young assassin, and after some months of learning to navigate the new relationship, all seemed to have found sturdy footing.

 

Although all were happy to finally find peace and a sense of normalcy in their home, Dick was especially pleased with Damian’s developments as a part of the family. It was commonly acknowledged (by all except Dick and Damian, anyway) that Dick had unconsciously taken on the role of Damian’s maternal figure, and it was clear as day to any that looked that Damian respected Dick most out of anyone. 

 

The dynamics of the manor’s residents did not always mesh nicely together, but most of the time they achieved some version of harmony, largely due to Alfred’s calm structure and Dick’s soothing attention and affection. 

 

The most significant progress had, by far, been within the group of Robins, both former and current. While it had been easy to harbor grudges and resentments, it had been far more rewarding for all when they had each let go of the insecurities and aggressions of the past, and just worked together, accepting each other.

 

The Omega, two Alphas, and the yet-unpresented pup (but who were they kidding, the kid was definitely going to be Alpha…) had even begun to gather socially as a group of their own accord. To hang out, as brothers and friends, and to enjoy the company of each other.

 

It was here, in this group of siblings, when the mission was over for the night and the young men and teens had the opportunity to just be youthful and relaxed, that Dick found the most peace. 

In tangled clumps of limbs and blanket on the floor of a dark room, a movie lighting up the walls and their faces blue, Dick wouldn’t immediately remember that he was forced to be here for the sake of his Omegan responsibility. 

 

When they all crowded into the same room and onto the same couches, each occupied in their own individual activity but still seeking the comfort of proximity to their fellow Robins, Dick felt like this was choice . This was love . Love that he chose to give but also received because he was considered worthy. 

 

It’s on a night like this that Dick finds himself pulled by instinct to the far east wing’s living room. An unnamed feeling telling him to go there.

 

When he arrives, he smiles upon the sight that greets him– a fire roaring in the hearth, the flat screen above it queuing up a movie, Tim working the remote while Jason places a tray on the coffee table loaded with popcorn, drinks, and other snacks, and Damian appears, from the far reaches of the room, having come back from the cabinet with several stacked blankets.

 

“Just in time, Goldie,” Jason greets, a gentle upwards curve to his lips as he sits and pats the space next to him on the couch, indicating to Dick to sit there.

 

“Hey Dick,” Tim flashes a smile briefly before returning to the TV screen, eyes squinting as he wields the remote expertly through the many technical settings.

 

“Grayson,” Damian acknowledges, holding out Dick’s favorite blanket for him to take.

 

“Thanks, Dames,” Dick says softly, feeling an inexplicable tingle behind his eyes as he accepts the velvety blue cloth and sits snugly next to Jason, Jason pulling him into his left side with a large, strong arm.

 

Dick relaxes against his brother’s side, tilting his head back to rest against Jason’s shoulder, and brings his feet up to curl under his blanket on the couch.

 

A moment later, Damian flicks off the lights and Tim seems satisfied with his TV setting selections. The two youngest Robins return to the large sofa, taking their own seats and arranging cushions and blankets just so.

 

As the movie starts, Dick feels a set of hands lift his feet from where they are curled almost underneath him, and permits the hands to pull them into a lap. 

 

Dick’s gaze travels over, seeing that Damian has decided that Dick’s feet should be cradled in his lap even as the youngest Robin leans lightly into Tim’s side. 

 

Dick turns his attention back to the movie, feeling safe and contented in a way he doesn’t remember feeling in so long. 

 

As the night wears on and the movie plays, Dick finds his eyelids getting heavier and his will to keep them open diminishing by the second. 

When his head jerks forward a little, having almost nodded off, Jason leans his head down, whispering into Dick’s ear with gentle mirth that tickles and sends a shiver up the Omega’s spine, “It’s okay to sleep, Dickie. I’ve got you,” and if Dick was having a difficult time staying awake before, this protective assurance combined with Jason’s large, warm hand sneaking just inside Dick’s t-shirt, rubbing slowly back and forth along his stomach made it impossible to remain conscious.

Chapter 9

Summary:

Picks up immediately after Chapter 8

The next day, it’s Saturday and the siblings spend most of their collective daylight hours holed up in that same far east living room. They take their meals there, continue to hang out and watch movies, play some video games, and just generally spend the day together doing little of import.

 

Feeling relaxed with no looming responsibilities in sight, Dick decides, for once, to give in to his “hedonistic” urges and just lays down without an activity other than resting his body in mind.

 

Dick sprawls out on the generous sofa, plenty of room for him between Tim and Jason, both sitting on each end of the couch, as long as he doesn’t stretch to his full 5’10. 

 

The Omega snuggles into some forgotten blankets, heaped upon the buttery leather seats, using them as a makeshift pillow as his muscles begin to melt and he attempts to become one with the couch. His eyes stare without really seeing at the TV screen on which Tim and Dami are currently competing against each other in some sort of racing video game. 

 

Dick can feel the powerful little jolts from Tim vibrating through the blanket pile as he rapidly presses the buttons of his controller and no doubt executes perfect combinations to increase his speed and to release traps on the track. Dami’s frustrated curse a moment later confirms what Dick already knows.

 

He begins to close his eyes, feeling very safe and warm and snuggly in the midday light of the room with the quiet, companionable sounds of his brothers nearby. As he does, Dick’s toes begin to flex and curl inside their thick, fuzzy socks as his body luxuriates in this rare feeling.

 

He realizes belatedly that he is brushing Jason’s thigh as he moves and might have accidentally disturbed his little brother who had appeared rather absorbed in a book. When he blinks his sleepy eyes open to check, he sees that is indeed the case when he is met with Jason’s complex turquoise stare upon him, the book now placed on the arm of the couch, closed and marked.

 

Before he can suppress it, in his sleepy haze, a small, pleading whine escapes Dick’s mouth when he realizes that he is indeed the cause of Jason’s disturbance. His head tilts back to expose his throat as he whines.

 

Immediately, every eye in the room is on Dick and the sounds of motor racing and the movements of others have all ceased. 

 

Dick is instantly on high alert, all traces of tiredness evaporated. His eyes are open wide and he throws a hand over his mouth, as if he could take back the sound that had just escaped.

 

“Hey,” Jason murmurs, calmly and quietly, “It’s okay.” His hand reaches out and presses reassuringly against Dick’s leg.

 

As soon as Jason speaks, however, Dick’s is squeezing his eyes shut, covering his rapidly heating face with both hands and shaking his head. But he’s not an etch-a-sketch and this won’t be able to vanish the fact that he had just submitted to his little brother in apology by accident. 

 

“Dickie, stop,” Jason says, still gentle but more firmly as he grabs a wrist, trying to pull Dick’s hands away from his face. “It’s okay.”

 

Dick stills, but keeps his hands up. Wishing he could hide. Wondering desperately how he could have ruined this peaceful day that his brothers were sharing. Was he really so stupid?! Did he have to act like a selfish attention whore?

 

“Dick,” Tim sounds as though he is right next to Dick’s face. He must have slid from the couch and moved to kneel on the floor beside him.

 

Dick flinches minutely as he feels Tim’s long, slender fingers rake his hair back soothingly from his face. “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” the young Alpha says knowingly. And that? It takes Dick’s embarrassment up another ten notches. 

 

He does . He does have to be embarrassed. For so many reasons.

 

1. He’s the older brother. He should not be submitting to anyone in this room.
2. He’s not some simple Omega, fearful of the consequence of every move he makes.
3. He didn’t do anything worth apologizing for! He accidentally bumped Jason with his feet, goddamnit, that is not a crime!

and

1. His brothers respect him because of his greater age and experience, and wouldn’t ever expect him to submit even if he did do something wrong….

 

….right?

 

The couch shifts a little and then there is another person, stroking the side of Dick’s face and attempting to lift away his hands. 

 

“Grayson, we are not cross,” Damian states softly, but then demands in the same velvety soft tone, “Remove your hands.” 

 

There’s something small flickering inside of Dick that makes him feel queasy at the thought of disobeying that instruction, and so he lowers his hands, baring his reddened cheeks to his brothers’ waiting gazes.

 

Dick’s eyes are still firmly lowered, barely open beneath his lashes, avoiding looking into the waiting faces crowded around him, no doubt looking on pityingly. 

 

“Dickiebird, look at me,” Jason demands this time, quietly, kindly. 

 

Dick gasps a little at the utter lack of control he has over his body’s compliance to the directive. 

 

Without his own consent, Dick’s wet eyes swivel up and look into Jason’s steady yet intense stare, and again, he is forced to witness his own body betray him as a whine weakly works its way up and through his lips once more. Dick is mortified to find that his body is limp. He realizes his neck is exposed once more, a result of his head falling backwards onto the piled blankets and Dick having no strength or will to try to lift it again. 

 

This time, his tears flow freely down his cheeks as his brothers look on, gazes a mixture of intense and curious regarding their brother’s unusual behavior.

 

Glancing back and forth between Damian above him, Tim to his side, and Jason right in front of him, Dick begins to feel dizzy. His head feels fuzzy and cloudy, and it’s as though he can’t complete a thought or connect meaning to anything. He feels cotton-headed and dulled, but slowly, placidity begins to take over the confusing panic of before. 

Chapter 10

Summary:

Follow-up to Chapters 8 and 9

Alfred is the one to find them, coming upon the scene by accident, intending to collect used dishes and clear away trash. He alerts Bruce immediately. 

 

Dick is going into heat and his brothers are all currently at risk of having their ruts triggered, heaven forbid such a thing happening, let alone to all three at once…

 

Scant minutes later, Bruce comes charging into the room and with all the authority of Head Alpha of the Manor, he clears away the hovering Robins, ignoring their low growls, and scoops up the Omega, too far gone apparently into an unexpected heat to have any sense to save himself. 

 

Bruce deposits Dick onto his bed in his room and hastily begins pulling out heat supplies with Alfred’s assistance. The Beta grabs towels and extra blankets and pillows and then heads downstairs to the kitchen to fetch bottled water and any nonperishable snacks that he can find.

 

After Bruce has found and dumped the obvious necessities on Dick’s bed next to his lax form, he pauses, looking around the room for…

 

His hand reaches for the side table drawer. Bingo.

 

He pulls out several items which Dick may find useful in the next day or two of his heat, taking the opportunity while he is pretty much alone to examine the devices that he has laid out next to a medium-sized bottle of lubricant and a container of sanitizing wipes.

 

The pink one is long and heavy in his hand. It smells of cheap silicone and the chemical-bad scent of synthetic Alpha pheromones.

 

The purple one is shorter and bulky, wider than Bruce would think would be comfortable…It has no infused scents, but Bruce picks up something sweet that may be residual from its last use.

 

He’s just about to test the switch on the little orange one when he hears footsteps ascending the stairs. He places the final item down on the bed and steps away, heading to walk out the door as Alfred walks in.

 

“Thank you, Alfred,” he rumbles, “Please make sure you engage the heat locks.”

 

“Of course, sir,” Alfred replies as he sets about his tasks, apparently unfazed by the garish neon collection that is quite visible next to his Omega charge on the bed.

 

“Come Master Richard, let’s get you out of these too warm clothes,” Bruce hears Alfred say as he strides down the hall towards his own bedroom.

Chapter 11

“Were you trying to trigger your brothers’ ruts?!” 

 

Bruce’s voice booms, sending mini-seismic events vibrating through the walls. Countless antique crystals tinkle and shiver on chandeliers and Tiffany lampshades throughout the manor.

 

Dick’s suddenly conscious brain scrambles for meaning while his body cowers, searching for understanding in what Bruce is saying. Why is he angry??

 

The Alpha looms, large and intimidating over the Omega, his enormous frame coiling, as if for a fight. 

 

“N-no, Bruce! I swear!” 

Dick admits to himself that he is scared of his father right now as he shrinks as far under his sweaty, stained sheets as possible. 

 

He had just awoken for what felt like the first time in days. His unplanned heat had finally run its course, the side effects dissipated in the early morning hours, and Dick had barely just opened his eyes and stretched his sore and dehydrated muscles before his bedroom door was thrown open and Bruce was stalking to roar at him.

 

“Of all the irresponsible things I can think of, Richard, this is too egregious, ” Bruce is seething as he growls, low and furious. His pheromones are just as explicit as his voice and his body language and Dick, Omega instincts still at the forefront of his mind, feels as though he’s being assaulted despite the fact that no one is physically touching him.

 

“I found these in your bathroom,” Bruce spits accusingly as he throws a pill bottle none too gently at Dick’s scantily veiled body on the bed.

 

The clear orange bottle hits him hard against the thigh, the percussionist cacophony of the pills jarring inside the plastic startling him more than the actual blow.

 

Dick cowers lower in the sheet and throws his head back, baring his throat, whimpering. He has no idea what is going on. He just woke up!

 

“You haven’t been taking your suppressants,” Bruce hisses, inching closer to the bed and leaning over until he is right above Dick, looking directly into his wide, frightened eyes.

 

“I…” Dick tries to speak, but finds it difficult. His sudden submission already filling his head with dulling fluff, his thoughts starting to slowly tumble and stick together like pouring molasses.

 

He wants to say, ‘I have been taking them!’ because he has . Religiously. 

Dick hasn’t had an unplanned heat in years .

 

But apparently that doesn’t matter. A track record is only good while it’s still clean in this house. 

 

Dick tries again to speak, but he fails. His tongue feels too thick, his throat too tight with fear.

He must look so dumb and guilty.

 

Maybe Bruce doesn’t care to hear anyway, or maybe he mistakes Dick’s lack of defense as an admission of guilt, either way, Bruce moves in, a large hand gripping the exposed throat below him, applying a controlled pressure that reminds Dick of the power behind it and just what it’s capable of.

 

His face moves closer and Dick fears that he’s about to receive an Alpha bite as punishment, but instead, Bruce leans in close and whisper-growls in his ear.

 

“If I find that you are trying to throw off the balance of this pack intentionally, you will regret it.”

 

Bruce’s statement– threat –is punctuated with a harsh squeeze to Dick’s throat before releasing him just as roughly and snarling, “Alfred will administer your medication from now on. If I hear that you are giving him any trouble, there will be consequences.”

 

Bruce turns to leave, but pauses, throwing over his shoulder before he exits the room, “And we will be scheduling a gynecological appointment for you since you are unable to take responsibility for yourself.”

 

A second later, his door is closed and Dick is alone. 

 

It takes a few minutes for his body to shed the physical and mental inhibiting effects of the submissive drop. The drop that was forced from the Omega by the power and heat of Bruce’s rage coupled with Dick’s entirely vulnerable state, having just come out of his heat. 

 

—

The better part of an hour later finds Dick finally able to rise from his bed. Making slow, difficult progress over the interminable minutes, he had hoisted himself up slowly from his prone position, to eventually sit and lever his legs over the side of the bed.

 

Those same legs now are shaking with effort as the Omega tries to carry himself the few feet to the clean sanctuary of his bathroom. After two and half steps, they give, and the Omega is forced to complete the trek, feebly crawling on his hands and knees until he reaches the soothingly cold, tile floor. 

 

He pushes his back against the sink cabinet and rests, breathing deeply, before attempting to pull himself up by the counter. Before attempting all the executive functions that will be required to turn on the lights, take a shower, dry off, and to generally, take care of himself. 

 

As Dick sits there, exhaustion humming in his every bone and muscle group, a thought throbs painfully in the back of his mind, Maybe Bruce is right… Maybe I haven’t been responsible. Maybe I can’t take care of myself… Maybe I’m just a simple, useless Omega.

Notes:

Maybe Bruce has been messing with Dick’s meds…Maybe not ;D

Chapter 12

Four days after waking from his heat sees Dick finally allowed back in the cave and his signature black and blue. After several days of punishing bench warming Dick doesn’t even feel angry or resentful– can’t feel anything other than grateful , really– that he’s only allowed a light patrol route, guaranteed to see no real action, and has an early curfew to boot. 

 

The lingering symptoms of punishment (or responsibly easing your body back into routine as Alfred calls it) just can’t taint the feeling of finally being out on his own at night, flying, leaping, and tumbling through the air.

 

Dick slows his enraptured limbs, forcing them to pause their joyous movements on a shadowy rooftop so that his other senses can also bask in the glory of this yearned for night. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose, holding the temperate night air in his lungs until it begins to burn a little around the edges, and then slowly starts releasing it at a controlled and measured pace. His pulse follows suit and he feels. in. control.

 

It feels so damn good to be alone, independent for the night. Even though he wasn’t given any real job other than to passively observe and “protect” the elite areas of Gotham with the lowest crime rates and highest police presence, he’s remembering that he’s strong and smart and capable , and that he is dangerous to those who would be dangerous to others. 

 

It’s a good feeling. Really good. To remember that you have value and worth. 

 

Dick is just about to pull his grapple and shoot, mentally mapping the three running strides and propelling leap required before swinging flawlessly to the next rooftop when he senses a presence in his far right periphery. 

 

He stills, making sure to show no tells that he’s watching but rather projecting a gaze ahead into the city’s dirty shadows.

 

He tracks a movement and it’s the dull glint of red, barely there in the polluted starlight, that convinces him to turn and give up his false obliviousness. 

 

“Hood…?” Dick greets warmly but questioningly upon confirming his suspicion by sight. 

 

“Hey Bluebird,” the modulated voice replies before Jason is raising a hand and releasing his helmet with a click and a hiss. 

Once removed, Jason’s face relaxes into a lazy, crooked smile, not threatening or even cocky. Just Jason.

 

Dick smiles back and is genuinely happy to see his brother with no urgency or anger in his body, but he’s confused, as well. “What are you doing here?”

 

Jason shrugs nonchalantly. “Just came to say hello,” he murmurs, moving forward. He raises a hand and brushes a sweaty, curling tendril of bangs out of Dick’s face. “That okay, Big Bird?”

 

Dick feels a tingling beneath the skin of cheeks as Jason’s hand lowers, leaving his little brother in an intimately close proximity, looking down into the Omega’s face. If Dick didn’t know better, he would say that Jason had caused him to blush.

 

“Of–of course,” Dick stutters, his voice sounding rough suddenly to his own ears. He clears his throat immediately, a nonverbal statement that he is not, in fact, flustered.

 

Jason’s lips quirk up at one corner, a bit of smirk, but it’s clearly involuntary and he’s not trying to rub Dick’s face in it or embarrass him. He looks…fond. 

 

“Want a ride home?” Jason asks, voice still soft and low, face still close, posture completely relaxed and casual. 

 

“Oookayy,” Dick drawls, mind a little dizzy with the interaction they’re having. It’s normal and not at the same time. It’s fucking with him and he feels the telltale creep of heat spread from his cheeks down to his neck. He’s definitely blushing. 

 

Jason’s plump lips split into a grin and his perfect teeth flash before he’s turning, replacing his helmet, and shooting out a line. A solid arm hooks tightly around Dick’s middle, large hand splaying on his torso, applying a firm pressure to assist in the hold. 

 

Dick’s breath hitches as they take a step and descend into a controlled swing, a curling tightness building below that hand unknowingly stoking a pleasurable ache as it presses into his womb. 

Chapter 13

Dick is sitting on the edge of his bed, groggily rubbing the crust of sleep from his eyes when he hears the near silent rush of air which means his door is opening. 

 

He looks up and sees the mildly surprised expression on Alfred’s face as the butler notes that Dick is already awake, relieved for once from having to wake him for this daily ritual.

 

“Good morning, Master Dick,” he states more than greets, making the words sound factual in their daily rehearsal rather than the sentiment they’re intended to be. “I trust you’re ready for your medication?”

 

The old Beta’s bored, half-lidded eyes gaze down at Dick, demanding confirmation. 

 

Dick glances to where Alfred has placed the small silver tray on which he carried the pills and a glass of water into the room.

 

“Yeah,” he says finally, sitting up a little straighter and raising a hand to receive the glass of water as it’s placed in his grasp.

 

“Very good,” the butler praises without enthusiasm, and takes the two large, pink oblong pills from the tray into his already-gloved hand. 

 

Dick obediently opens his mouth as Alfred brings the pills near. The Beta places them firmly into the middle of the young Omega’s tongue before allowing a sip of water to aid in the task of swallowing. 

 

Immediately after Dick has swallowed down the water, he yet again opens his mouth, a little wider this time, and angles his head upwards towards his pack’s most senior member.

 

He closes his eyes as Alfred’s latex-covered fingers explore the insides of his mouth, prodding along his gums and palate and wiggling under his tongue to ensure that he has in fact swallowed the medication and is not cheeking it. 

 

Once the butler is satisfied, he removes his fingers from his charge’s mouth, leaving the sickly chemical taste of latex in his wake, and collects the glass and silver tray once more. 

 

“Breakfast is ready, young sir,” he says before making a swift exit, shutting the bedroom door behind.

Chapter 14

Notes:

TW for slut shaming and internalized slut shaming. More nonconsensual touching. Updating the tags this chapter.

It’s early evening on a Thursday and Dick is just returning home from an outing into Gotham. 

His keys jingle softly as he lets himself into the manor, shifting the few shopping bags that he’s looped onto his wrists. As he shuts the front door, he hears a warm, familiar baritone come drifting like an old, favorite song from the nearest living room.

 

Lacking much of a social life since returning to live under the manor’s roof, Dick feels a burst of excitement like butterflies in his stomach and he quickly locks the door and sets his bags down neatly on the entryway credenza. He toes off his shoes which are caked with salt from the winter sidewalks, and leaves them tucked beside the door on the mat. Then he hurries on socked feet down the hall and around the corner.

 

“Uncle Clark!” Dick exclaims, sighting the man as he rounds the bend. The man in question is seated in a great leather club chair positioned near the fireplace, but somehow he doesn’t appear to be swallowed by it as most people do when they sit there. 

 

When Dick bounds in, Clark turns his attention from where he had been engaged telling a story to Bruce and Damian, who is seated silently by his father’s side, and beams at Dick’s jovial entry. 

 

“Dick! What a sight for sore eyes!” Clark exclaims back, opening his arms wide. 

 

Dick takes the cue and rushes over to hug his childhood hero and adoptive uncle. The task proves a bit difficult as Clark remains seated, so Dick is forced to awkwardly bend over to manage the big hug that is required of such a special surprise visit. 

 

When Dick is about to pull away however, Clark maneuvers the smaller man easily to sit in his lap, tugging with a firm hand on the waist until Dick is seated fully across one large thigh, his socked toes barely touching the carpet.

 

“Heh,” the Omega laughs, a little embarrassed, his eyes flitting nervously to Bruce and Damian, who have both been looking on since his interruption. Dick feels heat start to bloom on his face when his gaze slides from Damian’s neutrally curious expression to Bruce’s, which is thoroughly unimpressed. Dick doesn’t have time to dwell on his embarrassment or to try to right the situation however, as he has succeeded in capturing Clark’s current attention.

 

“So!” Clark booms, drawing Dick’s attention back to the man on whose lap he sits. One of Clark’s large palms comes down with a small clap and rests on Dick’s leg, just above the knee, giving Dick an extra little start. But then Clark is speaking again in that happy, warm tone that has a way of setting everyone’s nerves at ease. “When Perry mentioned to Lois and I that we were going to have to travel to…”

 

Dick had begun listening as Clark charmingly dove back into whatever story he had been in the process of regaling Bruce and Damian with, but as he sat there, like a puppet held off to the side, he accidentally began tuning out. His brain slowly processed that he had not been invited to join the conversation. No backstory or summary had been extended to him. He was a prop, an accessory in this visit at best, like a freshly poured cup of tea.

 

Dick suddenly felt like a child. He tried to remember the last time he had sat upon Clark’s lap, and he realized with a sharp pang of humiliation that he probably had been a child. God knows how many years ago it had been… 

 

Several minutes, or maybe closer to an hour later (Dick was unsure as his brain was alternating between cringing at himself and fuzzy, thoughtless drifting), Tim sauntered into the living room, suit and tie still in place, most likely just walking in the door from his workday at WE. 

 

“Tim!” Clark boomed again, warm and welcoming in his greeting, and Tim looked just as happy to see his adoptive uncle as Clark sounded.

 

“Clark, I didn’t know you were in town,” Tim said, gliding over and clasping the man’s hand in firm embrace. 

 

“Yes, although it’s just for the night,” Clark explained as Tim seated himself in a nearby chair, turned towards their guest. “I was sent to Gotham on assignment for the Planet and Bruce was kind enough to invite me to dinner,” Clark explained, casting a smile between Tim and Bruce, which both returned politely. 

 

“We were just catching up and I was learning about Damian’s recent achievements at school. Very impressive,” he said, winking at the youngest bat in the room. 

 

“We’re all very proud,” Bruce agreed, bringing up an arm to wrap around his blushing son’s shoulders and squeezing proudly. “Tim has also broken some wonderful new ground at WE in the past few months…” 

 

Again, as the conversation shifted naturally with the addition of the fourth Alpha, Dick felt the acute humiliation of being inconsequential creeping along his skin, making him feel itchy. Did anyone even notice that he was still in the room?

 

When he went to shift off Clark’s lap, assuming he’d be just as invisible as before while the four Alphas were engaged in conversation about business and board meetings, Dick’s toe had just barely touched down on the carpet giving him some needed leverage to stand from where he was sunken into Clark’s lap when a large hand slid up from where it had been resting on Dick’s thigh and squeezed the Omega’s waist, effectively trapping him once more. 

 

“Not interesting enough for you?” Clark laughs. And although it is obviously a joke in good humor, a quick glance to the side confirms that Bruce is yet again disappointed by Dick’s behavior. Probably mad at him for interrupting their guest twice now…

 

“N-No!” Dick hurries to deny. “I just thought I’d ask Alfie if he needs any–”

 

But Dick is cut off by the aforementioned butler as he speaks. 

 

“Dinner is ready, sir.”

 

“Thank you, Alfred. We’ll be right in,” Bruce answers, rising.

 

Tim and Damian rise as well, and only then does Clark release his hold on Dick and allows the Omega to stand. 

 

Dick feels the same hands which had captured him not a moment before providing “support” as he rises, which is actually more unbalancing as it is helpful, despite good intentions.

 

As the men stand and make their way across the hall to the dining room, Dick’s steps falter as his collar is caught from behind, causing him to stop and turn.

 

He comes face to face with Bruce, who is glowering more than Dick understands the reason for.

 

“Please try to be a little more demure , Dick. That display was embarrassing.” 

 

As Bruce brushed past, Dick’s face went from dumbfounded to flaming red. 

 

Bruce thinks I’m acting like a knot-thirsty slut! His breathing picks up. Does Clark think that? Or Tim, or Dami?!

 

He walks to his seat at the dinner table as quickly as possible, sitting down and hunching towards his plate so as to hide his utter shame and embarrassment at his father’s implication.

Chapter 15

Like another link in a patterned chain, tonight’s patrol had devolved quickly, to Robin and Red Robin’s dismay, into yet another heated argument between Batman and Nightwing.

 

The two had been at each other’s throats for several weeks now, quarreling over relatively minor things in the field. Tonight’s case had started with a typical command from Batman, but instead of following it obediently as expected, Nightwing had questioned Batman’s call. 

 

The blow up from there was rapid and brutal with accusations, pointed fingers, yelling, and even a brief physical tussel in rooftop gravel. As the vigilantes scrapped the night and returned back to the cave on Batman’s barked orders, Red Robin and Nightwing on bikes and Batman and Robin in the Batmobile, it went unacknowledged that all plans for recon were blown. They all already knew that the mission had most likely been set back indefinitely or even compromised entirely due to the unchecked anger of the eldest Bat and Bird.

—

 

Dick storms into his room, slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t care if he wakes the whole house or even if the jarring causes the damn building to crumble. 

 

How can Bruce be so obstinate?! For someone so intelligent and capable, he sure has an inflexible way of thinking.

 

Dick is seething. He’s breathing heavily, pacing in a semicircle, wearing a sad, faint rainbow into the recently vacuumed carpeting of his room. His fingers dig into his black locks, still damp from the hasty post-patrol shower, and he grips. And tugs. 

 

Why did Bruce always think he was infallibly right?? Why did he act like no one else had anything to contribute?? Dick hasbeen fighting crime almost as long as Bruce and he had already successfully led several teams. He has an open invitation to join the Justice League for Heaven’s sake! 

 

But the credentials don’t matter, apparently.

 

Bruce just expects them all to jump when he says jump. Don’t even dare to ask how high, you should already know after hours of having the precise knowledge and skill drilled into your bones and tissues in rigorous and questionable training exercises during your youth…

 

As these impotent questions and thoughts whirl around in his head with no resolution, a feral sound, full of rage and helplessness, somewhere between a scream and a growl crawls up from the depths and leaves Dick’s throat as he digs in and pulls on his own dark strands. His body is strained, muscles powrfully tensed, eyes screwed impossibly shut. He wants to punch something. Some one . But he has no outlet here. So he tenses and shakes with painful tremors and grinds his teeth, hoping to burst into flames that will better express his fury. 

 

His chest is tight, aching with breaths that aren’t deep enough and screams that can’t be manufactured as his throat constricts. Without his consent his body begins releasing its strained   muscles from where they are held in traction, starting with his legs. Dick is about to drop to his knees as his body rebels against him when a pair of strong arms catch him around his middle, a hand gently takes his wrist, trying to prevent him from pulling his hair out.

 

“--ey,” there’s a voice that goes with these disembodied appendages. “Dick. Hey.” 

 

Dick takes a slow breath in and opens his eyes as he shakily exhales it back out. 

 

His vision focuses. 

Jason. It’s Jason who has come to intervene.

 

He holds Dick in his arms, pulled against his solid, warm form to brace his unsteady brother, and he’s looking down into Dick’s face with empathy and such… Such concern.

 

And suddenly, Dick can’t take it. 

 

As he stares back up into his younger brother’s earnest face, the anger that had felt so strong a moment before turns brittle and shatters. 

 

Tears overflow from Dick’s eyes and he’s embarrassed and thankful all at once. 

 

Embarrassed that he’s in such a state, that he’s such a mess and he’s unintentionally put the burden of fixing him on his little brother. 

 

But the tears can’t be quelled now that they’ve been given leave to flow, and their release eases a bit of the tension that was held painfully in his chest and throughout his body. 

 

Dick’s sniffling and trying to hide his face against Jason’s chest as the salty tracks run down his face. He wraps his own arms around Jason’s middle. Even though he’s standing on his own two feet now, the feeling of being intertwined like this, in Jason’s arms and his warmth, feels good. 

 

Dick feels… Protected. Assured. Understood .

 

“Hey, shhh,” Jason is whisper-crooning, a hand coming up to tease gently into Dick’s hair, fingers rubbing soothingly against his scalp. “I’ve got you, Dickie, I’m here. Shh. It’s okay.”

 

Dick lets his brother sooth him. Lets the minutes pass by. Takes the kindness that is offered. Lets the calming whispers and gentle touches ease away more of the tension until he feels like his muscles have turned to jelly and his shoulders don’t quake with the force of his tears any longer. 

 

The same strong arms that have been holding him throughout now move him gingerly to the bed, where both men sit, each turned inward toward the other. 

 

“I don’t understand why it always has to be like this,” Dick hiccups out. 

One of Jason’s arms is wrapped around his shoulders, his thumb rubbing firm, grounding circles into Dick’s tricep. 

 

Jason stays there, warm and present and listening, so Dick gulps back another hiccup and continues at his brother’s silent encouragement. 

 

“Why does he even pretend to work on a team?? What the hell is the point of training all these partners if he only wants to work alone ??” Dick brings up an arm and hastily wipes his face, attempting to get himself back under control.

 

Because unwanted kids make good little soldiers and even better cannon fodder.  

 

It is on the tip of Jason’s tongue, but he holds it in. It isn’t what Dickie needs to hear now.

 

Jason struggles to find something comforting to say, and ultimately decides to say nothing. Dick isn’t really looking for answers, anyway. He’s venting. 

 

And so Jason holds him. He pulls the Omega closer once more and eases them back onto the bedding until they are laying down. Jason’s head and shoulders are propped up a bit, reclining on the downy pillows pressed against the headboard. Dick’s head is pillowed against Jason’s chest, a hand splays out just below that, across the top of his abdomen. 

 

They’re silent for a long time. Jason listens and feels as Dick’s breathing evens out into a rhythm nearing sleep. 

 

Jason bends down and places a kiss onto the crown of the Omega’s head and receives a contented hum in response. 

 

“Love you, Jase,” comes Dick’s muffled good night.

 

“Love you, Dickie,” Jason replies, pressing another kiss into the dark locks before closing his eyes and heading towards sleep, as well.

Notes:

I just can't make Jason suck quite as much as the others. He's too precious.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Resigned to an Omega Life