Chapter Text
“I thought I said no explosions tonight,” Tim said. He heard the boom from the clock tower, faded as it was from his distance to the warehouse that was currently on fire. He multitasked. With his eyes he kept track of the icons of the Bats to make sure they were well away from the flame while his hands typed away to send an anonymous tip to the nearest fire station.
“So strict, sweet thing,” Nightwing said. “It was an accident. Don’t be mad!”
Sweet thing. That was new. As it did more and more these nights, something soft and sweet and innocent bloomed in the garden of his thorny heart where it had no place. He’d watched the Bats kill five people tonight, after all.
And he’d not be sorry about it. They were part of Harvey’s folk, the ones that had kept all of them in a collar that would have exploded their heads at a simple press of a button. Tim would never get his hands bloody himself, but he doubts that would hold up well in the court of morality.
Don’t worry, Judge! I didn’t kill them. I only helped their murderers track them down and get home safe after. See? Completely innocent!
“No evidence,” Batman rumbled. He was getting more and more verbal. Being free from the collar and whatever prison they’d been locked in had him coming out of the feral state the alpha had gone in to cope.
“That’s true,” Tim sighed. Leave it to Batman to make it seem like they planned the whole thing when he had watched Red Hood’s stray bullet pierce an ominous looking chemical tank only moments earlier. “Firetruck ETA in three minutes. It’s been slow tonight, so they are likely to have cops with them if you want to get out of there.”
“In the mood for a little company tonight, Timmy?” Red Hood asked, as he did most nights.
“You know the rules,” Tim said. And, as he did most nights, “No masks in the tower.”
It was a rule early established. If they were going to come into Tim’s den, where he was most vulnerable, they would have to be vulnerable in their own way as well. He knew the Bats were strict about giving away their real identities and he knew of the power imbalance of them knowing his while he wasn’t aware of who they were. So, he set his boundaries. And, to his surprise, they listened.
They griped about it quite a bit, but they listened.
“Told you we shouldn’t have broken into his place that night,” Robin said. “Now we’re all grounded for listening to you.”
“You shouldn’t have placed the cameras either,” Tim said, rolling his eyes.
“It wasn’t my idea!” Robin’s offense made his voice pitch into a puppy whine.
“It was mine,” Nightwing said cheerily. “And don’t pretend you didn’t access them as much as everyone else.”
“It took me a week to find them all,” Tim said. Nightwing was better at hiding devices than Tim was at dodging security measures as Stray.
“Did you,” Nightwing purred.
“Oh ha, ha.” Tim leaned back in his chair and stretched out his neck. “You guys still taking tomorrow off?”
“Yes,” Batman’s reply was a growl that felt grumpy. “We must.”
Judging by the resounding grumbles of his pack, Tim knew they would rather be with him tomorrow, continuing to terrorize the criminals of Gotham together. They’d be secretive about what they were actually doing. Something that must have involved their civilian identities.
While Tim itched to find out more of the mystery of them, he had a bigger itch to scratch. With dispatching for the Bats taking up most of his time lately, Stray hadn’t been able to get out and stretch his claws.
Tim knew of a certain party that was taking place the next night that would give him the perfect opportunity to get a bit of stealing in.
He woke with a gasp. Someone was in his nest with him, in line with him warm and solid and large against his back.
“Sweet thing,” a voice said. The nickname stilled any struggle that had been about to begin. He didn’t recognize the voice, though. It wasn’t Nightwing’s chirp, or Batman’s growl. Robin’s voice was softer than this. That left only-
“Red Hood?” Tim asked. He must not have been wearing his signature hood then since his voice wasn’t modulated.
“The one and only,” Red Hood said. His real voice was pleasant, rough and roguish; it sent a shiver down Tim’s spine. It was like every line he spoke promised mischief. “I’ve been good and took off my gear for you, so you’ll have to be good and stay turned around for me, okay baby?”
Tim’s muscles tensed on instinct to disobey. Red Hood was right there, all he had to do was turn around and he’d finally be able to see what he actually looked like. Know who he actually was. Red Hood, likely sensing this, laughed quietly.
His arm slid around Tim’s waist and pinned him against his body. At the same time his other hand wrapped around Tim’s throat, with his fingers brushing against Tim’s jaw. The grip wasn’t tight yet, but it held promise that Hood could shut down his movements if Tim tried.
“Be good,” Hood rasped in his ear.
Tim grumbled but settled into the hold without trying to fight it. Red Hood had followed his rule, even if he was being a jerk about it. “Is it just you?”
“Yeah. Why am I not enough for you?”
“Just curious.” Tim rolled his eyes at Hood’s mock offense. He blushed when he felt cool air on his legs as his blankets shifted. He’d gone to bed in his usual tank top and shorts, no underwear. He hadn’t exactly been expecting company.
His blush deepened when he remembered what he had been doing moments before he fell asleep to help himself relax. He was sure his scent was sure and strong, all over his nest.
“You’re wearing your blockers,” Tim fussed. “But you can scent me.”
“I sure can,” Hood said and inhaled for good measure. “Like a caramel latte.”
“I want to scent you back.”
Hood hesitated behind him. Tim knew he was pushing it. Someone’s scent was just as unique to them as their face or fingerprints. If Tim knew Hood’s scent and then happened to run into him without his mask, then Tim would be able to know who he was.
The logical part of Tim knew why Red Hood would be so hesitant, but he denied it. Red Hood knew who Tim was, what he smelled like, and he was in Tim’s nest. It wasn’t fair that Tim would never be on equal ground with the alphas that were becoming so dear to his heart.
A whine began to build in his throat. He sniffed and was seconds away from telling Red Hood to leave, taking a deep breath to prepare himself, when the scent hit him. Something spiced and fierce, warm like a pot of soup simmering and sharp like the moment before a fire burns.
Hood’s bare hand came into view and Tim snatched it up and brought it to his face. He rubbed his cheek on it and felt a deep rumble vibrate behind him, coming from Hood. Lips pressed against the side of his temple.
“You’re a bad idea, baby.”
Tim huffed in amusement. What a hypocrite.
Sometime later, Tim woke up alone in his nest. The orange glow of the rising sun filled the tower and the only sign that he’d had a visitor the night before was the red t-shirt left on the pillow next to his head.
Tim dreamed once of getting out of Gotham. It was a childhood fantasy that somewhere far, far away would give him a better life. He remembered saving money from various jobs in a little shoebox behind his bed, naively thinking his father wouldn’t find it when he was desperate for another bottle.
Now, he knew he wouldn’t like living anywhere outside of Gotham.
For instance, where else would there be giant parties the size of a grand ball just to announce the Gotham Prince’s return to the richest group of people in the city? Tim stayed on the sidelines with the staff, but his eyes were locked on the gems and diamonds and watches among the crowd. He felt like the fox in the chicken coop.
Damian Wayne’s speech fascinated the crowd enough that Tim slipped some goods here and there as he refilled drinks. Once, or twice, he thought someone might have been on to him. He felt eyes crawling up his spine. He never could pinpoint where they were coming from, only that no one called him out as his pockets grew more and more full.
When the speech was over, Tim helped himself to the last two champagne flutes on his tray and caught a scandalized look from another worker. “Live a little,” Tim muttered after her as he abandoned the tray next to a very expensive looking vase. Worth a pretty penny but too big for him to sneak out without being seen.
“Enjoying the party?”
Tim nearly jumped at the voice. He was normally so good at keeping aware of his surroundings so that no one would be able to sneak up on him. He turned around and faced the chest of a man much taller than him. He looked up.
Damian Wayne was the person that had managed to sneak up on him, despite his size. He was handsome, a beautiful blend of both of his parents in his strong jawline and green eyes. He’d loosened his tie after his speech and left the first button of his suit undone. Tim could see the scent patch he was wearing, similar to the one Tim had on his own neck.
He belatedly realized he’d been asked a question. “It’s a very nice party,” he said. And after a moment, “Sir.”
Damian blinked at the title. His green eyes darted all over Tim, as if unable to look away. “You’re a…waitor?”
Tim didn’t expect Damian to know every single person under his employee. That’s why he chose this disguise in particular. “Yes,” Tim said. Then he realized how it must look. “I’m on a break actually.”
“Hmm. It’s good to take plenty of those. Would hate for rumors to get around that the Waynes’ are terrible employers.”
Tim laughed. “You're powerful enough to squash any rumors that might come from my mouth, sir. But I don’t have any complaints.”
“Sure.” Damian grinned with a boyish confidence. “But I’d hate to disappoint such a dedicated worker.”
Was he flirting? That wasn’t good. When the guests started noticing their precious gems Tim had stolen, Tim didn’t want anyone to remember his face. He looked around, wondering at the best escape path.
“Do you want to dance?”
Tim turned back sharply. As he stared, building up the courage to say a polite no thank you, Damian’s expression shifted. It was subtle. Tim only caught it because of years of training in catching even the smallest details in his environment.
For just a second, Damian looked nervous. It reminded him that Damian was younger than him by a few years. At only nineteen with the world at his fingertips the most of his life, Damian likely hadn’t had to take a chance at many things. Yet here he was, looking at someone he might have found attractive and shooting his shot.
“Alright,” he said. Just one wouldn’t hurt. “As long as you don’t think my boss will mind.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand.”
So they danced. Tim allowed Damian to lead and was pleasantly surprised by the grace of his movements. People stared at them and whispered about them. Everyone was wondering who the pretty thing on the Prince of Gotham’s arm was.
It was surreal. Tim was used to sticking to the shadows, not being the center of attention. He’d have to tell the bats about this the next time he dispatched for them. Or, maybe he wouldn’t. It wasn’t like they would tell him what they were up to in their free time lest he learn anything about their real identities.
“How’s your father doing?” Tim asked, pulling himself away from his thoughts. “He was sick, last I heard.”
“He’s better,” Damian said, seeming surprised that Tim had asked. “He’ll make an appearance tonight, briefly. Just enough to give the crowd something to chatter about.”
As if Gotham ever stopped chatting about the Waynes.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Tim said. “It must have been hard without him around.”
“Having the head alpha around to keep my brothers in line certainly makes things easier,” Damian muttered.
Tim chuckled. He could imagine. Jason was near infamous for the fights he got into and Dick for the pranks he played, both malicious and not, depending on where on how bad someone summoned his ire.
“Having a full pack together is very important to us,” Damian said, his hand tightened around Tim’s waist. “It’s something we all desire deeply.”
A pack. Tim’s steps stuttered, but Damian was graceful enough their dance didn’t pause. He’d never really had one of his own. His parents left him alone with a housekeeper that did the bare minimum to keep the Drake heir alive for most of his childhood. His teenage years were spent in the townhouse with his drunk father after his mother died. Selina showed him the most love of anyone, but even she had her own pack already and left Tim behind when she moved out of Gotham with them.
“Timothy?”
The music had stopped and Tim did as well, not allowing Damian to lure him into another dance.
“I should get back to work,” Tim said. “I’ve been on break longer than I should.”
Damian frowned. The insecurity of youth was back. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No sir,” Tim said. “I just have to go.”
“Tim-”
He stepped back just as the crowd swelled around them, leaving Damian behind in a swarm of dancing bodies.
It wouldn’t be until much later when he would take off his disguise and see the nametag with Alvin on it that he would begin to wonder how Damian knew his name.
Once he escaped the dance floor, he lingered in the entryway to the mansion. There was a large staircase that had been blocked off with no entry signs. He should have left at that moment, but the devious fox inside him was back, whispering to him that he should explore just a little more.
Once he was sure there were no lingering eyes on him, Tim shrugged off his tux and his tie, slinging them on the rope to the no entry sign before stepping over it. He’d be long gone before anyone stumbled across them.
The hall was long and winding, quiet in a way that felt ominous. Tim picked a door at random and opened it. Inside was a scent so delicious Tim felt his omega fangs pop. He took a couple steps into the room, looking around. It was a bedroom. A messy one. Whatever alpha slept in here had no right to smell so delicious and have his nest in such disarray. It must be one of the Waynes. Tim wondered what the tabloids would think of this juicy bit of information on one of the most powerful families in the city.
Whatever. Tim was a thief not a gossip. The mess wasn’t his business, but what he could find within it could be. He slunk into the room, closing the door behind him. He avoided the giant messy bed. The scent in the room was so raw Tim already had to focus to keep his head on, he wasn’t going to risk getting where it was most potent.
The dresser nearby was a safe bet. A good distance from the bed and with a tempting little box right in the middle, like it was placed there just for Tim. The key was sitting in the lock, all Tim had to do was turn it and the box lid sprang open with a complaining creak.
Inside sat a necklace. It was a small, dainty, sapphire gem no bigger than his fingertip resting on a silver chain. Even though it was tiny, Tim could tell this necklace cost more than any amount of money he’d ever see in his life.
Tim’s greedy fingers were quick to pluck it out of its resting place and move to place it on his own neck. He was so enamored with the necklace that he didn’t notice someone creeping up behind him.
He struggled with the clasp, as small as it was and only froze when hands much larger than his own came up and covered his, where they were still behind his head working on the necklace. He tensed, ready to duck and kick the legs out from under the person, when they spoke.
“Omega.”
Tim froze. He knew that voice. It had only been hours since he heard it last after all. He hadn’t expected to hear it here, in the Wayne Manor, of all places. “Batman?”
Batman made a low pleased sound and Tim fought a shiver. What was he doing here though? Was he planning on targeting one of the Waynes? He hadn’t known any of them to be caught in anything illegal or violent, like most of Batman’s victims, but enough money could probably hide any secret well.
Batman’s hands gentled. He took over the clasp from Tim and soon the necklace was resting securely on Tim’s neck. Tim touched the sapphire with his fingers. It sat comfortably right in the hollow of his throat. He already knew this would be a piece he would add to his personal collection. The rest of his treasures tonight he would sell, but this one would stay.
Batman at his back made Tim’s instincts war. This was a near feral alpha that Tim had known to kill people. It would help if he could smell him, but it made sense for Batman to use blockers. Tim was wearing them as well. Despite this, he still felt Batman lean down to press his nose against his neck. Teeth followed and Tim felt himself go woozy.
He was smarter than this. He tried to reach for some sort of common sense to get away from the alpha seconds away from biting him and all he could muster was one thought; Batman wasn’t wearing a cowl. He would have felt it surely, instead he only felt the warm heat of bare skin against the side of his face.
A sharp knock on the door had Batman giving a low huff. Tim tried to bolt, tried to get somewhere he wouldn’t be seen, but Batman had his arm locked securely around his waist before he could take a step.
“Master Wayne?” A strict British voice sounded from the other side of the door. “Are you ready? The guests are waiting.”
“A moment,” Batman rumbled. He was pretending to be a Wayne? But he surely would have tried to disguise his voice.
“Certainly, sir.”
Tim’s racing thoughts halted, but his body did not. He turned around and faced the man behind him.
He was well dressed, a figure taller and broader than most men. His hair was combed back and his handsome face was freshly shaved. There was no cape or cowl. No scent blockers either. Tim hadn’t picked up on a new scent because this man’s scent was the same scent that encompassed the entire room.
Bruce Wayne was standing before him. And so did Batman.
This party must have been why the Bats weren’t able to mask up tonight. They were hosting a party to announce the official return of their civilian identities to Gotham. And Tim had snuck in, stolen from their guests, and…danced with Damian Wayne.
He had to be Robin. Tim made the connections of Nightwing and Dick and Red Hood and Jason before he could help it.
Tim had come here for gems and trinkets, but he’d accidentally stolen something much more precious and dangerous. The real identities of the Batfamily.
“I’m so sorry,” Tim breathed. “I didn’t know.”
Bruce - Batman - frowned at him. Whatever response he might have damned Tim with was interrupted before he could speak it by another dock at his door.
“Master Bruce, I really must insist on haste.”
The doorknob turned and stole Bruce’s attention from Tim. He turned. “I’m on my way, Alfred. I-”
He noticed Tim begin to slip away from him then and grabbed at him, the feral red of his eyes flaring. Tim dodged the grab and took several steps away from Bruce, toward his balcony.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
For whatever reason, Bruce did not chase him. Even though Tim knew Batman would have been able to catch and keep him with minimal effort at all. Instead he just watched, still frowning, as Tim made his escape out of his balcony.
He didn’t return to the clocktower for the next several nights. Instead he stayed in the studio that he bought a long time ago, when he’d gotten the pay off from his first big heist. He used it when he wanted to forget Stray for a while and become Tim Drake full time, part time barista, part time photographer. Now it was his hideout. He barely slept and didn’t let his guard down once.
He’d had a decent working relationship with the Bats, sure. But what was a dispatcher compared to the security of their identities? For all they knew he had hunted them down on purpose to take something from them they’d made it clear time and time again they didn’t want to share.
They would surely silence him, he thought.
Days went by, and then a week. And then one evening Stray left Tim Drake’s apartment and took to Gotham as the sun set. Stray was a stealthy thing at all times, but if anyone managed to catch a glimpse of him, they would notice his movements were too tense for his usual grace and he kept looking over his shoulder as if he were being hunted.
It wouldn’t be long before Stray would disappear from any wandering eyes completely and wander into a closed clothing shop in the diamond district. It was the first place he had robbed, when Stray made his debut, it would make sense that it would be the last place Stray made an appearance.
It’s Nightwing that finds him there. Just as Stray rounds the rack filled with expensive coats, Nightwing appeared around the other side with a smile. He’s fully suited up. Tim wondered if he was expecting a fight. “Now why do I have a feeling the owner doesn’t know about having guests here after hours?”
“Cat’s out of the bag,” Tim said lamely. He tensed when Nightwing’s smile faded. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”
“You’ve been avoiding us,” Nightwing said instead of giving a true answer. “We were worried.”
“Worried I’d sell your secret identities,” Tim asked. “Dick?”
Nightwing twitched at the name. His smile was fully gone now. “Would you?” he asked quietly.
There was a threat in that question. Dick stepped out from behind the clothes rack fully. Tim only caught a brief glimpse of something blue in his hands before he swung it around Tim’s neck. Tim’s hands came up to scramble at Dick’s hands in a panic, but he was never a fighter. Dick had already secured it around Tim’s neck.
His breath was never compromised. Tim held onto Dick’s wrists until he was finished putting it on Tim. A scarf. It smelled like a storm.
“I don’t like that you got to smell Bruce and Jason and not me,” Dick said. He was finished with the tie, but he kept his hands near Tim’s neck, stroking him through the cloth.
It was a good scent. It would go well in his nest next to Robin’s cape and Jason’s shirt. With Bruce’s necklace sitting on display in Tim’s vanity he would have a piece of all of them in the Clocktower the next time he returned. If he could return.
“I didn’t mean to find out who you guys were,” Tim said. As if that would help his case.
“I know,” Dick said. He was only wearing a domino mask, so Tim could see his golden yellow eyes, standing out strongly against stark white skin. He must have wore a hefty disguise when he was out in public to give himself blue eyes and a skin tone that looked alive.
“I know too much,” Tim said.
“I know,” Dick said. He leaned close enough that Tim could feel the coolness of his skin. Their lips weren’t that far off from touching.
Tim was surrounded by the electric feel that came before a lightning strike. “I saw you at the circus. A long time ago.”
Dick froze. His fingers spasmed against Tim’s neck, tightening just enough for him to feel the threat of them, before he let go and stepped back from Tim completely. “That was very long ago indeed,” he said. Strange, the way his voice still had the happy whimsical tone to it when Tim could see clearly the haunted expression on his face.
“The Court took you in after that, didn’t they?”
Dick nodded and moved further back from him. He seemed to blend into the shadows with no effort at all. Tim stepped forward, no longer afraid.
“And then…Bruce?”
“Batman came for the Court,” Dick said hollowly, likely lost in dark memories. “He spared me.”
Tim remembered hearing about that. The massacre of many of Gotham’s wealthiest and most influential people. It had been the night Batman had truly become feared.
“Would you spare me?” Tim asked. “Even though I know too much?”
Dick’s attention snapped back into the present. He smiled again. “That’s up to you, sweet thing. We’ve been burned too much. It’s hard for us to trust, but with you we wanted to try.”
Maybe Tim wasn't the one that needed to be scared, after all. He imagined all the pain and torment the Bats had gone through to turn them into the assassins they were today. If they had truly wanted Tim gone, he wouldn’t have made it out of the party. Instead the Bats were taking a chance on him. For whatever reason.
Tim ached at the trust they were showing. At the honor and burden of knowing exactly what their weakness was and not being hunted for it. He pressed a kiss right on Dick’s chilled cheek.
He’d not make them regret it. Not for a moment.
“Robin, you’re stopping by the clocktower before you turn in for the night.”
“It’s not that bad,” Robin insisted.
Tim rolled his eyes. “I have access to every security camera on the block. I can see you limping.”
Nightwing whistled. “You better listen to him, baby brat. Sounds like he means business.”
“It’s my fault you were snuck up on,” Tim said, ignoring the chorus of protests from the bats until they settled down. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Alright,” Robin said. He sounded flustered.
“Gonna nurse him back to health, omega?” Batman said in a low, teasing tone. He was always a bit more playful when they finished up for the night and everyone was safe and sound and on their way home.
Tim felt his chest warm, catching the double meaning in his words. “Maybe,” he said boldly.
There was a powerful pause in which Tim watched with amusement through the cameras as every bat froze in place. Red Hood finally spoke up, muttering so quietly it kept cutting in and out of the mic.
It sounded a lot like “-somebody to stab me.”
Tim laughed.
Damian’s injuries weren’t really that bad. Tim put gel from his first aid kit on the bruising that started at his right hip and went up to his lower back from being tossed into a wall by Bane.
The entire time Damian stared at him with wide eyes, mask’s off in the tower was still a rule and it was still something the bats respected, because Tim wasn’t wearing his scent patches.
“Timothy,” Damian breathed when Tim stayed in his space. Tim’s sure he was giving all the signals of interested omega and felt his nerves of being rejected settle when Damian’s large hands came around his waist.
He held him like that. They didn’t go any further, even though they both wanted to. Tim was only beginning his courtship of the bats and Damian made the most sense to start with seeing as he was the first face he’d actually seen. When he was ready to become the omega of their pack, he’d have them all with him at the same time.
Tim could hear Red Hood in the middle of threatening a group of people through his computer screen as he slowly swung open the door. It’s a dark web version of Teams or Skype, just for criminals. Genius really.
Red Hood’s not expecting him, so Tim’s expecting the gun pointed his way when he took his first step inside. Tim was wearing a disguise, a baby blue wig and a shiny black dress. Red Hood recognized him after only a moment and quickly dropped the gun so it didn’t face him anymore.
Red Hood was surprised to see him, even though he was wearing his helmet Tim could tell because it took someone nervously repeating their question to him for him to answer. Tim wasn’t supposed to know where this particular safe house of Hood’s was, but there wasn’t much that could hide from him once he wanted to dig it up.
As he walked closer, heels clicking on the floor of Hood’s makeshift office, Red Hood flipped the laptop he was having the meeting on down, so it was angled away from his face. He sat back in his chair and patted one of his thighs.
Arrogant, but they both knew Tim wanted that seat. He placed the tray of food he’d brought with him next to the laptop and sat in Hood’s lap. He chanced a glance at the camera and could see several blacked out figures staring back at them. On Hood’s camera, they were seen from the shoulders down and the large gloved hand that covered Tim’s pale thigh was the centerpiece.
Tim felt himself go warm.
“This was supposed to be a private meeting, Red Hood,” a heavily modulated voice said.
“It was private. Then I got bored,” Hood said dismissively. His helm was tilted up toward Tim, but Tim had no idea what expression could be on his face.
‘Take your helmet off,’ Tim mouthed to him.
Hood made an amused noise and brought his hand up, pressing a series of buttons beneath the edge until it slid open. Jason wasn’t wearing anything beneath it beyond a smirk. Tim shivered at the sharpness of his teal eyes and double checked the cameras, making sure Jason wasn’t at risk of being exposed to them.
Satisfied, Tim reached for the tray he brought and began feeding the contents to Jason. Cheese cubes and fruit weren’t exactly the same as the food from the street venders Jason had left for him, but Tim hoped it would do for now, until they could go get food together one day.
As Jason ate, he made appreciative noises just loud enough to be picked up on the mic. The camera could see just the bottom of Jason’s face, enough to see his tongue dart out and lick Tim’s fingers each time he finished a bite.
Through it all, Jason’s hand steadily crept higher up Tim’s leg, his fingers darting teasingly under Tim’s skirt. Knowing that they had an audience had Tim struggling to focus. His mind raced, wondering how much they could get away with. The other crime lords were obviously scared of Red Hood, how long would that fear make them sit there quietly while Hood allowed himself to be entertained.
His scent had bloomed around them, showing off his arousal. He rubbed his legs together and whined softly. Everyone in the meeting went quiet and Tim blushed hotly when he realized that the noise was picked up on the mic.
“Meeting’s over,” Hood barked, slamming his laptop shut. “Get me the money you owe me, or die.”
Tim laughed, and then moaned as Jason buried his face in Tim’s neck, breathing him in.
It was several days later when Tim watched from the cameras in the clocktower as Dick finally entered his bedroom at Wayne Manor. It was near dawn, Tim had only said goodnight to him and the rest of the bats less than an hour ago. Enough time for Dick to get back to the manor and shower before he went to rest.
Dick stilled only two steps into the room as he became aware that his bedroom had not been how he left it. He slowly began to pace around the room. Tim wondered what it was that set him off. The scent of the omega that had been snooping in his rooms or newly messed up sheets on his bed.
Dick stood at the base of his bed and stared at it. Slowly, as if he was as nervous as Tim felt, he placed one knee and then the other on the bed.
Tim had rolled around in those sheets that very morning, once he was sure Dick had left for the day. It’d made him feel equal parts embarrassed and excited to mark Dick’s space up, to claim it as his too.
Now he was more nervous as he watched Dick hesitate by the bed. Had he read it all wrong? Was this too far for someone that wasn’t actually his mate yet? Dick didn’t even know about the camera Tim had watching him.
But then Dick dived into his sheets, face first. Tim breathed out a sigh of relief as he watched Dick roll around in his scented bedsheets. He was heated once more when Dick found the pillow he’d spent some time with between his thighs. Dick held it to his face as he finally settled onto his back. Tim could see his chest heaving with the deep breaths he was taking.
He was so pretty, with his hair curled sweetly around his temples and cheeks as his golden eyes…Eyes that were staring directly up at the camera Tim had placed above his bed. Tim choked on his next breath.
As if Dick could see Tim’s reaction, his lips curved up in a mischievous smile. It was then he began touching himself with his hand. Slow, teasing, movement that had Tim leaning forward in his seat, enraptured as Dick made a trail of feather-light touches down his own torso before toying with the ties on his pants.
All these years later, and Dick was still eager to perform for him again.
“Tim.”
Tim froze with his hand on his doorknob. He’d had to stop by his studio today to get more photography equipment for a wedding he’d been hired for. Normal, boring, civilian errands. Not something he expected to run into Batman doing.
He finished locking his door and stepped away from the safety of his apartment. It was late evening. Tim was planning on being at the clocktower to help the Bats with whatever their goals for the night were within the hour.
In truth, he’d been nervous about seeing Batman most of all. Damian, Jason, and Dick had all accepted his courting, but Bruce was the pack alpha. If he didn’t find Tim worthy, then Tim would never have a chance at being part of their pack.
God. He wanted that so bad.
He blinked up at Batman, trying to get a sense of what was going on beyond his cowl. His face was unreadable, and his scent was hidden as well. Tim fiddled with the straps on his camera nervously.
Behind them, standing on the corner was a woman openly staring at them. Tim recognized her as the woman that worked nights at the closest convenience store to him. She was their only audience. Batman didn’t seem concerned with her at all.
“Omega,” Batman said when Tim didn’t answer him right away.
“Alpha?” Tim asked quietly. Somehow he could feel Batman’s stare move from his face down to his neck, where he was wearing the necklace Bruce had placed there not too long ago.
“We’re not patrolling tonight.”
“Oh.” Tim felt his shoulders slump. Was Batman just here to cancel on him tonight? Was he not going to acknowledge Tim’s courtship at all. “Will you tomorrow then or…?”
Do you want me to leave you and your pack alone for good?
“No,” Batman said and then frowned. Tim wondered through his ascending spiral if he was struggling to find the words he needed. “Come to the clocktower tonight. We’ll be here.”
“But you just said…Oh.” Tim blinked. His eyes were very wide. “Oh.”
Batman leaned down and did something Tim hadn’t allowed the other bats to do. He kissed him. Tim melted into it, making small sounds of pure relief as Bruce marked him as part of their pack.
Tim had no way of knowing just how much restraint the bats had shown, letting their omega come to them instead of snatching him up and taking him back to the cave right away.
When Batman had swooped away and Tim was still breathing heavily from his kiss, the woman spoke up.
“You might want to skip town for a while honey. Those bat-folk are not the sweet Prince Charmings you read about when you were a babe. They’ve been killing people.”
“I know,” Tim said, his breathing had stilled and he stared back at her in challenge. Those were his alphas she was trying to warn him away from.
“I’m just saying. You’d be better off somewhere else.”
“It’s alright,” Tim said. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”