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Dick's exhausted, sweating heavily under his suit. While it's changed over the years, it's always been a second skin, one he remembers wearing from his earliest days performing.
Not this time. Today he can barely stand the friction against his skin, the way it constricts near his throat.
Every muscle is burning, and Dick can't remember, again, why he thought coming out here was a good idea. Earlier, Dick had dismissed his misery as a by-product of the argument, but he's quickly realizing it's not.
It's much worse.
He's going into heat and he's only three hours into patrol.
The flush of shame and anger is nothing new. Even ten years after his presentation -- the one Cyborg picked up with his amplified senses and warned him about -- Dick's never gotten over the weaknesses of his presentation.
Bruce can lecture Dick as much as he wanted, but a man who spent every night exceeding limits, every night expecting everyone else to do the same, was shit at unconvincing an omega that it wasn't a problem.
Every big city has a mess of smells. Metal, smog, anger, blood, the people, the unique flavour of factories and the plants that fight pavement for space. As Dick's senses bleed past his suppressants every smell gets that much worse, irritating him more, reminding him he could be home. In the nest.
Dick ignores the instincts gnawing at the back of his head, and keeps going. Part of him still wants to push past it, still wants to somehow patrol this week, and is half convinced he can.
That's the trouble with taking suppressants. The months slip by and the heats get forgotten until they have to surface, and Dick plays this game every four months, pretending they're not that bad.
He shoved away anyone that offered to be there for him, anyone that showed interest because he knew what it meant to be under someone. Bruce had reluctantly knocked him out with sedatives for half the heats he'd had before Leslie acquiesced to the suppressants.
But none of them had ever listened or done what he wanted willingly, it was always a fight. He'd been forced to listen to every variant of what he needed and heard all the bullshit they said to make being an omega more palatable.
And none of it matters. Dick is willing to suffer rather than be less than. He isn't less than any one of them. B had kicked him out and he'd survived alone, he'd kept his city from the brink.
That anger fuelled the patrol for a bit, even as part of Dick's mind reminded him it didn't have to be like that.
That's the fear talking. That he had a chance at something else.
And then the argument resurfaces in Dick's mind and he refuses to be the one to crumble.
The alpha mugger he wrestles to the ground makes Dick's stomach twist, and he punches the guy harder than normal as the beta escapes. There's a fever in Dick's limbs when he stands and his pride battles with his logic.
If he stays out tonight, he's getting outed as an omega. There's no way the scent blockers can hold off the heat scent, and the worst case scenario has Dick completely screw up in the haze. The Titans and him learnt that the hard way and it's a lesson Dick's in no hurry to repeat.
That's a liability much worse than Nightwing taking a couple nights off.
And it could only be a couple nights, not the whole week-- especially, especially with a heat partner.
But Dick doesn't know if he's still there, if he stayed after they'd-- Dick blinks rapidly, cursing himself as he nearly swings his way into a pole. His hands are starting to shake, and it's taking all his focus to keep holding onto to the grapple, to do his usual safety measures as he gets back to his apartment.
Please, please, please-- Dick's mind begs, still able to scent Jay in the house as Dick stumbles in the dark. The scent alone soothes something in his chest and Dick fumbles for his phone, desperate to call him. He's already half-gone with instincts, and the familiar rush of guilt surges again, competing with his need.
"I said not to go out there." A voice says in the dark and Dick focuses on Jason, sitting on the couch. The alpha raises an eyebrow at his condition.
The argument suddenly made more sense.
"You knew?" Dick asks hoarsely, nearly a whine. He wants to, but he holds it back, suddenly unsure.
"Of course I knew." Jason replies, but not unkindly. "It's just hard to bring it up with you." He says evenly. It's painfully out of character and Dick knows it's for his benefit. "But if I'd said anything about your heat and not patrolling, you'd have flipped out even more."
"Shut up," Dick growls, every muscle trembling. He doesn't know how to ask without seeming needy, he's never known how to ask for anything. It's supposed to be him taking care of people. And Dick wonders if he'll ever be able to silence the part of his mind that wonders why he isn't an alpha.
Why he couldn't be the one to hold Kory through heats instead of the other way around? Why people got to take advantage of him like--
The thought tires him out worse than any patrol. Dick stifles a whine, or a sob, he's not sure.
Jason ran an eye over him. "Come here."
Dick swallows hard, not even bothering to fight it.
Jason pulls him into his lap, deft fingers running through Dick's hair, making Dick's eyes flutter, before Jason worked down the hidden clasps and zips of Dick's suit. "Are you hurt anywhere?"
Shaking his head, Dick keeps his face pressed into Jason's neck, drinking in the alpha's soothing scent. His hands curling in Jason's familiar jacket, muscles minutely shaking as Jason coaxes the sleeves off the suit down, moves Dick's arms to make it work.
Jason kisses his shoulder, sending warmth spiralling through Dick's skin.
The air's painfully cold on Dick's exposed back, but getting the suit off is a relief of it's own. If Jason wasn't here, Dick doesn't think he'd have been able to do it.
Dick groans gratefully when Jason ran his hands all over his heated skin. He kisses Jason, rocking into him and making the alpha groan, fingers tightening on Dick's hips.
The friction is deliciously warm in Dick's stomach, instincts clamouring for more.
Jason breaks the kiss, both of them breathless as Jason presses his forehead to Dick's. His fingers smooth a curl back and Dick nuzzles his face closer.
"I know fuck all about what you want out of a nest. But I threw all the same blankets and pillows into there as last time. Got snacks too, but you'll have to survive off my cooking for a few days."
"Just kill me now." Dick complains and Jason nips at him, which sends the first rush of slick down his legs. Dick's mind slips toward oblivion and it's so hard.
"I'm not going to do anything you don't want." Jason murmurs. "Just what we talked about, okay?" He runs his hands soothingly down Dick's back. "No bite, no presenting, no collars."
And even though Jason's never let him down in the last three years, Dick has to make himself believe he'll listen. It gets easier every time.
"Please." Dick begs suddenly and Jason rumbles low in his chest, kissing the column of Dick's throat.
"Fuck, you smell so good." Jason breathes in deep, hands lifting under Dick's legs as he picks them up and makes for the room.
"Jason--"
"I got you, Dickiebird."