Chapter Text
“Thank God for small mercies,” Roy muttered, snatching the two unopened bottles of water from the barren fridge. “I’m gonna have to call Dick at this rate if Jay doesn’t answer his fucking phone.”
The last thing he wanted was to have to burn another safehouse by literally handing the alpha the address (even if he still had a lingering packbond with the man, one found between close friends), but…
Groceries. They were needed. Urgently. And with their resident beta—the Asshole Extraordinaire, as Roy had renamed him in their pack’s group chat—not answering his damn phone, Roy really didn’t have a choice. Chain grocery stores didn’t deliver to Crime Alley, after all, and the local bodegas didn’t either.
A faint, heartbroken keen reached down the hall, echoing the tug of the packbonds—well, one of them—in his chest and urging Roy to come-quickly-pack-save-me and help–me–pack–why–did–you–leave. An involuntary whine rose in Roy’s throat, his scent going bitter with worry.
Asking Dick for help would have to wait.
With all the swift efficiency taught by years of vigilantism, the omega slammed a bowl down on the counter, poured goldfish and animal crackers into it, and took off down the hall, bowl and water bottles in hand.
The overwhelming heat scent, all heat–scared–abandoned–omega–panicked–sorry–save–me, was like a punch to the throat, even for Roy. Especially for Roy.
Rushing to the side of the nest, the redhead crooned, blinking away the tears in his eyes. “Oh puppy, I’m sorry,” he rushed to say, placing the food and water on the bedside table. “Sweetheart, it’s not your fault, I’ve got you. I just went to grab some food and come right back, yeah?”
Sliding into the nest, Roy scooted over to where Tim was huddled in a little ball, pulling the younger omega into his arms and forcing up a stuttering purr.
From where he was curled in on himself, Tim looked up with tear-stained cheeks and another heart-breaking keen. The blue of the pup’s eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot, stood out like the summer sky peering through Gotham’s rainclouds. (Roy wasn’t a fuckin’ nocturnal creature like the Bats, alright? He needed sunshine, unlike his vampire-wannabe pup and their introverted book-hoarding beta.)
Roy crooned, the low thrum filling his chest. He thumbed away the tears still streaking down his pup’s cheeks, safe–fond–love–omega–warm–baby–mine ballooning across the room as he rubbed the back of Tim’s neck, triggering light submission by massaging the pup’s scruff.
Muscles still fraught with tension, Tim let out a breath of relief, starting to sink into the hand cupping his cheek. Emotional relief flowed across their bond; like the dry earth sighing at the first catch of rain in the autumn.
“There’s a good pup,” Roy murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around the small omega. “You’re alright, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”
Tim hummed, tucking his head beneath Roy’s chin and cuddling as close as he could. The pup’s nose snuffled against Roy’s collarbone, probably taking in the faint beta scent covering Roy’s red Wonder Woman hoodie.
Keeping up a steady purr, Roy closed his eyes and sighed, feeling Tim start to really melt against his chest. “Do you think you can eat something before you fall asleep, Timato?” The kiddo chirped quietly, the shared bond between them growing continually hazier with sleep. “Baby bird,” Roy tried again, shaking Tim a little. Maybe he would listen a bit better to Jay’s nickname for him? “Baby bird, you gotta eat something before falling asleep again. Come on, I brought animal crackers?”
A little mmrrph? of interest—dear lord, the kid really was a cat sometimes, or perhaps a saber-toothed kitten—came as Tim raised his head a bit, clearly listening.
This would be so much easier if he wasn’t so nonverbal during heats, Roy grouched to himself, removing an arm to reach behind himself and snatch the bowl of treats. “Come on, baby bird. Food, then sleep.”
Tim whined, trying to burrow back into Roy’s chest even as the pack omega hauled him upright. Brushing the pup’s messy bangs away from his eyes, Roy held up an animal cracker like a consolation prize, chuckling when Tim snatched it away with vigilante quickness only to nibble on it daintily like the queen of France. “Someday I’m gonna get you to snack on vegetables or apple slices or whatever. Crackers, ramen, marshmallows and coffee do not a healthy diet make, Timmers.”
Tim only pouted and whined again, turning large, mournful eyes on Roy and reaching across his body to make grabby hands at the bowl of treats.
Chuckling and shaking his head, Roy placed the bowl of crackers where Tim could reach it himself—the kid’s bond immediately brightened with glee—and tucked the younger omega against his side before whipping out his phone and pulling up the same old group chat. It was practically a ritual at this point.
And lo and behold, what did Roy see?
Jason still hadn’t responded. To any of Roy’s dozens of texts, spanning the weeks since Jay had fled Gotham.
He hadn’t even opened the chat.
The chat, which was hosted on a third party app that Roy himself had designed for privacy, and which Roy therefore knew Jason had access to regardless of if he had had to trash his most recent burner phone.
Cold fire exploded in the redhead’s chest and crawled up his neck. Carefully, so the heat-addled pup beside him wouldn’t notice, Roy closed his eyes and breathed in, slow and deep. And again. And again.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let any of the seething mess of anger coiling in his chest reach either of his pups. Tim and Lian weren’t the targets of his fury, and didn’t deserve to be affected by it—to be confused or worried or even frightened by it—through the packbonds. He couldn’t afford to let even a hint of it bleed into his scent, either.
Tim’s hormonal balance was fucked enough as it was, what with the heat inducer that had started the damn mess and kicked off the kid’s natural heat a whole four weeks too early. His body sure as shit hadn’t been ready for the flood of hormones that hit him, and feeling the pack omega’s rage and inevitably responding to it would make it all doubly fucked and doubly dangerous for the pup’s health. Which, frankly, Roy couldn’t fucking deal with, what with his own frazzled instincts spitting sparks in Jason’s absence, fretting over his youngest pup and however she was doing back in Star, and trying to keep his own body from going into sympathy heat.
Roy was going to beat Jason’s ass whenever the beta came back from where-the-hell-ever he had fucked off to six weeks ago.
Deep breaths, Roy, he reminded himself, breathing in heavily through his nose again. He kept at it until the rage pressing behind his eyelids was carefully turned down to a steady simmer, away from the open packbonds he had with his pups and shoved liberally against the iron door Jay was keeping slammed shut over their bond.
Take that, asshole.
Sucking in a last breath, Roy opened his eyes and turned his gaze back to Tim, still snuggled happily into the older omega’s side. A quick glance at the bowl revealed that Tim had been targeting all of the animal crackers with a vengeance, and studiously avoiding the goldfish.
Well. That was one way to ignore the Jason-sized hole in the nest, Roy supposed.
“You gremlin!” Roy reached up and ruffled Tim’s silky hair, deliberately putting on a cheerful air, all content–fond–amused–omega–mine. Raking a hand through Tim’s hair, Roy forced the younger vigilante to meet his eyes, trying to act stern (and failing at it). All the rascal did was purr. “The animal crackers were supposed to be the dessert, you mischievous little brat!”
Tim hid his face against Roy’s shoulder, smiling, happy–playful–amused–love–warm.
Roy huffed, pulling Tim tightly against his chest and flopping down in the nest to trap the smaller omega beneath him. Tim squeaked, squished between Roy’s larger frame and the mattress.
“Aren’t you supposed to be 18, brat?” Roy shook his head in fond exasperation, burying his nose in Tim’s hair. “You’re worse than a toddler when it comes to eating vegetables. However Jay gets you to eat vegetables, I’ll never know.”
A pang of grief abruptly shot through their bond so quickly that Roy went still, his gaze focused entirely inward on the mess of grief and confusion and anger suddenly making itself known across Tim’s bond, shot all the way through with sickening fear and self-doubt.
Tim wasn’t so far gone into the heat haze as to miss their brother’s absence, apparently.
Hesitantly touching the younger omega’s tangled knot of emotions—bearing part of it and understanding it as pack omega—was a unique kind of agony. Roy buried his face in Tim’s hair to hide his tears.
“Jay?” Tim rasped, muffled against Roy’s hoodie. The pup snuffled at the red fabric, probably hunting for the remaining wisps of their packmate’s scent. “Why issn’ Jay here?”
Roy swallowed, throat thick. Tim had asked that question the day before. And the day before that. Ever since his natural heat had really set in.
It broke Roy’s heart, honestly. Every time. But he wasn’t gonna lie to his packmate.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.
“Will ‘e come back?”
Roy pressed down a sharp whine that rose unbidden in his throat. Hopefully, he thought. “Yes,” he said, pushing back against those ever-present inner demons. “Of course he’ll come back, Timato. He’s our packmate. Jay’ll come back like he always does.”
(Roy could admit in the privacy of his own mind that he was trying just as much to convince himself as he was trying to soothe Tim.)
(Fucking hell, Roy wished the beta hadn’t run away again. For— so many reasons, really, dammit. Dammit.)
Shaking his head a bit where it was still buried in Tim’s hair, the omega rolled over, pulling the pup with him. With Tim safely cocooned in the curve of the larger omega’s body, Roy started up a deep purr, letting it pour through his packmate.
After a long moment, Tim sighed and relaxed once more, sinking even more deeply into Roy’s protective hold and pressing his nose against Roy’s scent gland, clearly content to just be held.
His pup needed it. To be held. Kept safe. Loved well.
Roy purred, pleased, rubbing his chin back and forth over Tim’s hair to liberally cover the pup in his scent. Overprotective? Sure. Satisfying to Roy’s snapping instincts? Hell yes.
With Tim quickly turning into fondue in Roy’s arms, snuggled deeply in the nest of blankets, the pup began to purr, prompting Roy to purr even louder. His pup was safe because Roy was there and his pup was happy because he was (mostly) healthy and that was perfect.
Yeah…this was the best part about being an omega, in Roy’s opinion (which was the only right one, really).
Comforting his packmates. Loving them and keeping them safe. Letting them know that it would be okay, even if he wasn’t so sure about that himself.
With his pup tucked securely against his chest in a cobra-tight squeeze, suffocation was a near thing. Calm–sleepy–love–warm–safe–protect–mine blanketed the nest, washing away the sharp, lingering edges of fear and abandonment. (Smoothing over the pointed, uncomfortable feeling of a missing packmate.)
Roy’s eyes slid closed as he waited for the tell-tale steady breathing of true sleep from the Timbird he had smugly trapped in Hug Jail.
It wasn’t until Tim had fallen asleep with his nose still pressed to Roy’s scent gland, that the older omega pulled his phone back out.
After texting Dick the address of the safehouse and telling him to bring all the groceries, he pointedly tossed his phone back on the bed without checking the pack group chat.
Even when his phone vibrated almost immediately after he had tossed it away. It was probably Dick, anyways.
Settling back in with Tim, Roy sighed and buried his nose once more in Tim’s hair, reveling in the gentle warmth that came from holding his packmate in his arms.
Rain was quietly pattering against the windowpane, with all the usual sounds of Gotham’s nightlife trickling through.
Jay didn’t like the rain; hated it, even. But Roy knew that Tim liked it, as one of the sounds of the city, his city. Roy liked it, too, albeit for different reasons.
Closing his eyes, Roy let the sound of the rain and his pup’s deep breathing ebb and flow around him, forcing the thoughts of Jason and their silent packbond as far from his mind as he could.
Jason would be back.
He would, regardless of what that insidious little voice in Roy’s said otherwise.
In the meantime, Roy would be there with Timbird. Hell, maybe Roy could even drag Tim to Star for a bit; they could bring Lian with them to Gotham, provided they weren’t in the middle of a big case.
Whatever. He’d figure that out in the morning. For now, he’d hold his pup and help him through his heat. Afterwards? Roy would hunt their asshole beta down and drag him back by his ears if he had to.
But until then, Roy and Tim were steady, and waiting.