Work Text:
Bruce tapped his pen against the pile of documents waiting for his signature and read the same sentence for the third time, yet somehow still couldn’t remember what it was about.
Tim was in heat in a bedroom upstairs. Alone.
If it had been Jason, Bruce would have been upstairs in his nest, offering icepacks and cuddles in turn, or Jason would have marched into Bruce’s office no matter what Bruce was doing and demanded that Bruce attend to him. Once Jason had finally started to trust that Bruce and Alfred didn’t think any less of him for being an omega or indulging in omegan instincts, Jason had seemed to make it his life’s goal to make Bruce prove it. Seeing how much it had soothed Bruce as well to have his son safe and absolutely covered in Bruce’s protective scent, Bruce had never minded.
But Jason was gone. Bruce had failed. Bruce had failed Jason, and Tim wasn’t his even though every fiber of his being wanted to be with the young omega under his care. What would Tim even think if Bruce were to try to convince him to let Bruce into his nest? It wouldn’t help Tim feel safe if Bruce acted like the scum who preyed on children as vulnerable and helplessly alone as Tim.
Reading that sentence again for the fourth time, Bruce missed the rattle of the doorknob, but he didn’t miss the loud clatter of something slamming into the door, and he definitely didn’t miss the tiny mewl of pain that could have only come from one person.
The doorknob turned torturously slowly before the door swung open, revealing a sweaty, flushed, crying, miserable omega pup.
“Tim?” Bruce knit his brow.
No omega would leave their nest in a state so far in heat, especially not Tim, who hated when Bruce saw any less than perfection from him. Something must have happened. Tim must have been hurt, or sick, or he was having some kind of complication with his heat. As Bruce watched, Tim crumpled even more. Bruce could smell the sweat and distress and anxiety from all the way on the other side of the office.
After a breathless moment, Tim sniffled pathetically and shuffled into the room with his head lowered. Bruce forced himself to stay seated as Tim wobbled over. Jumping up, grabbing Tim, and performing a full body search to check Tim for injuries would likely just stress Tim more. That didn’t stop him from digging his nails into the leather armrests as he watched Tim sway dangerously far in first one direction, then another, nor did it stop him from turning his chair enough that he would be able to jump up and catch Tim if need be.
A few steps from Bruce, Tim’s face quirked a near smile that instantly screwed up into heartbroken grief, and Tim’s entire body shook with a sob.
Bruce wanted to reach forward and pull Tim close, but he wasn’t expecting Tim to keep walking, closer and closer, until he was climbing into Bruce’s lap. Feverish arms wrapped around Bruce’s neck and clung on even as they trembled. Bruce stiffened in shock. This couldn’t really be happening, could it?
Tim pulled his knees up to his chest and laid his head on Bruce’s shoulder. Tim seemed to have some trouble getting his feet to stay on Bruce’s legs. His whined, practically whimpered, and curled his socked toes into Bruce’s slacks. He was burning up, trembling, and clutching Bruce like he thought someone might come to take him away. It was only the warm weight of Tim’s body and the gut-wrenching scent of his fear that kept Bruce from thinking it was all a dream. If it wasn’t a dream, then, that meant that Tim had come all the way to Bruce…because he wanted to?
Tim turned his face to bury his wet nose against Bruce’s scent gland, startling Bruce back to the present. Tim. Tim had come all the way to Bruce for a reason. Bruce needed to find out what that reason was.
Bruce grabbed Tim’s shoulders and shoved him back, perhaps too harshly, because Tim lost his grip on Bruce’s neck and nearly toppled off Bruce’s lap. Bruce squeezed Tim’s shoulders tighter so he wouldn’t fall, but he needed to find out what had happened so he could fix things, because seconds counted in situations like this.
“What’s wrong?” Bruce demanded with a growl that was broken by high panic. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Stay here, I’ll go get Alfred!”
Tim burst into tears and desperately flopped his arms toward Bruce’s neck. “No, please! Please don’t leave me!”
A fresh wave of misery crashed into Tim’s scent, lonely-grieving-helpless, every scent that an omega Tim’s age should never be showing.
…Bruce was an idiot.
Tim wasn’t hurt, and he wasn’t sick.
Tim was packless.
Of course, the Drakes were allegedly Tim’s parents, but they had barely seen their son for months, and Bruce knew that those two were omegist. He never should have let Tim be alone once he went into heat; he could have at least had Alfred stay with Tim to keep him company and keep some of this utter devastation from Tim’s scent and mind.
Tim sniffled and clearly made an effort to get his breathing under control even as the sadness grew thicker in the air, and he sagged against Bruce’s hands.
The tension seeped out of Bruce, leaving only weary affection behind. He eased his grip on Tim’s shoulders and leaned back in his chair to make himself more comfortable for Tim.
Tim squeaked—it was adorable—when Bruce pulled Tim down against his chest, but Bruce just chuckled. His pup. His sweet pup.
After a few moments, Tim relaxed as well, and Bruce could feel Tim’s tight smile and smell the slight waning of the fear.
Bruce laid an arm over Tim’s back, and Tim whimpered, confused-safe-content slipping into his scent. His pup needed more love, if the barest hug was enough to confuse him. Bruce hesitated, then laid his other hand on Tim’s back, letting his wrist gland trail over Tim’s sweaty shirt as he ran his hand in circles a few times before cupping the back of Tim’s head and coaxing the boy’s nose back up to his scent gland on his collarbone. Bruce let every ounce of the protective love he felt for the boy bleed into his scent. Tim shuddered, then slumped onto Bruce, tangling his fingers in Bruce’s shirt.
“Alfred told me you were in heat,” Bruce murmured as he started rubbing Tim’s back again. “I wasn’t expecting you to leave your nest.”
Tim sniffled and whimpered. “I’m sorry.”
“What? Tim, Timmy, no.” No pup should ever feel the need to apologize for trying to find safety with a parent or the closest thing they had to a pack leader. Tim should know how much he meant to Bruce, to their whole family. He should never have to doubt his welcome.
Bruce hesitated. Was this overstepping his boundaries? He didn’t think, so, but…Bruce pressed a chaste kiss to the top of Tim’s head. Tim shuddered, and Bruce hugged him tighter.
“I just know how heats are,” Bruce explained. “I thought you’d feel safer in your nest.” Without me.
“Do I have to go back?” Tim mumbled tearfully.
“No, Tim.” Bruce kissed Tim’s head again, and Tim shook in relief as he sobbed. “Were you lonely? Is that the problem? Should I call your parents?”
He didn’t want to call the Drakes, but he knew Tim still loved them, as horribly as they treated him. Bruce doubted they would actually come, but if Tim needed them, then Bruce would make his best effort to make it happen.
Tim shook his head with a scared puppy whine. “No, no, they’ll get mad if you call them! They hate me!”
Bruce froze, rage coursing through his veins. How dare they. How dare the Drakes have a perfect, wonderful, living little boy, and they just left him to fend for himself. An omega, cut off from any pack that the Drakes knew about, and forced to fend for himself. Even if that wasn’t so dangerous for any young child, especially an omega pup who could be caught and trafficked so easily, omegas needed connection. They needed to feel loved and connected, they needed to feel protected, especially when they were so young and vulnerable.
Tim flinched at his fury, and Bruce made an effort to calm his scent and tone. “Why do they hate you, Tim?”
“Because I’m whiny and I’m clingy and—” Tim sobbed and clutched Bruce’s shirt. Bruce crooned and massaged the tension in Tim’s shaking shoulders. “—I get in the way—” Tim gasped like he couldn’t breathe. “—and I’m not an alpha like they wanted—so I can’t be their heir and—they’re—just going to marry me off as—soon as they can so they can—” Tim choked on the words like they were the worst of all, and Bruce was horrified by the thought that there could be something worse than Tim had already told him. “—get at least get a little bit of value from me.”
“Tim…” It didn’t matter if it was true. It truly didn’t. The Drakes might very well have no intention of selling Tim off, of treating their only child like some kind of whore, but they were never around to correct the thought. The precious little pup expected his own parents to sell him off to be raped like he was nothing more than a bargaining chip, and they couldn’t even be bothered to hold Tim themselves.
Bruce lowered his hands from Tim’s back, and Tim tensed, his scent thickening with misery. That was quite enough of that.
Bruce rolled up his sleeve, exposing the scent gland on his wrist. He hesitated briefly—if he scented Tim, that was essentially claiming the pup as his own, and not just in his head. Publicly. And what if Tim didn’t want to be claimed by another alpha?
Tim wouldn’t have come to him and climbed onto his lap if he didn’t feel safe and loved by Bruce. They could sort out the rest later, but Tim’s instincts had told him to find his alpha to protect him, and Bruce was going to do that.
He rubbed his scent, heavy with protective-possessive, over Tim’s back and neck. The pup was his.
“B-Bruce?” Tim hiccupped.
“Sh, ssh, Tim. It’s alright,” Brue soothed. His hand came up and started to comb through Tim’s sweaty hair, snagging a few times before Bruce worked out enough tangles to be able to card his calloused fingers easily through the strands.
Tim hesitated only a moment before he relaxed in boneless pleasure with a tiny purr. It was one of the sweetest things Bruce had ever heard.
“That feel good?” Bruce chuckled.
Tim purred louder and nodded with an expression of dazed happiness on his face.
Bruce laid the side of his head against the top of Tim’s and kept petting him awhile. Taking care of omega pups in heat…it was like riding a bike. So easy to pick back up. So easy to hold and love. So…bittersweet.
“Jason used to do this,” Bruce mumbled without really meaning to.
Jason had been the first omega in the pack since Martha Wayne had died. It had been terrifying to realize that the pup Bruce had been so sure was a snarling little alpha was deep in heat, but then, when Jason had been curled up just like this in Bruce’s lap and sleepily scenting Bruce so he’d “smell right,” Bruce had known he’d do anything to protect his son.
He’d failed.
“Jason was so whiny when he was in heat,” Bruce laughed wetly. “He would have been in here the second he knew his heat was starting. He would have dragged me to the corner, where he would make a giant nest with all the couch cushions and every pillow and blanket he could carry.”
He missed Jason so, so much.
Tim whimpered in confusion. Bruce took a deep breath, then trailed his fingers up to Tim’s throat. A steady pulse beat against his fingers. Tim, at least, was still with him. Tim was alive.
“I miss him so much,” Bruce whispered. He sighed, and he slipped his fingers from Tim’s neck down to Tim’s shoulder and gave it a small and hopefully reassuring squeeze. “But I’m glad you’re here. I’m so glad you’re here, Tim.”
Tim froze under his hand, and, for a moment, Bruce thought he’d ruined everything, but Tim’s scent filled with hope and desperation. Bruce sighed and hugged Tim tighter. His poor boy…
“Do you want to go lie down in a nest?” Bruce suggested. “I know Jason always felt safer in a nest.”
Tim hesitated, but he nodded, and Bruce smiled.
He pulled Tim tighter to his chest as he stood, letting Tim wrap his legs around Bruce’s waist and hold onto Bruce’s neck. Tim was so light, delicate, and Bruce carried him easily up the stairs and down the hall to Tim’s bedroom.
Bruce stopped into the hall and only needed one sniff to know that Tim could not nest in the room. The room reeked or terrified, abandoned omega pup. It never should have gotten that bad.
“Tim,” Bruce said, a slight chide in his tone. “You can come to me if you’re upset. You don’t need to wait so long.”
Tim sniffed hard and said nothing. Bruce hummed in understanding and continued on down the hall to his bedroom. Many, many times, Jason had built himself a nest on Bruce’s bed. He’d liked…he’d always built his nests where Bruce spent a significant amount of time. Until the weeks before his death, Jason had felt comforted, protected in Bruce’s presence. And then…
Bruce opened the door and carried Tim inside. This wasn’t a moment for him, or a moment for Jason. It was about Tim.
Bruce carried Tim across the room to the bed and gently laid Tim down on the side of the bed. Tim scrambled toward the middle of the bed, looking at Bruce expectantly.
They needed a few things before Bruce could join Tim, and that meant—
Bruce took two steps before a desperate keen startled him back to the present reality of lonely traumatized omega pup, and he turned back to Tim, sweeping him up and pressing a kiss to Tim’s forehead.
“I’ll be right back, Tim. We need more blankets for a nest,” Bruce murmured. “I wasn’t going to leave you. I would never leave you, Tim, not like that.”
They needed to get him a nest, a proper nest, set up to lay Tim’s instincts to rest. Bruce needed to collect pillows and blankets, of course, and scented items from each of the pack members, but he didn’t want to stress Tim out even more by just leaving him.
Tim keened, high and distressed, but pulled back from Bruce.
Bruce stood up and ruffled Tim’s hair. “Right back, Tim. Just a few minutes, I promised.”
There were dozens of nesting blankets in the linens closet, some that Jason had kept in rotation…others, most of the ones still in closet, were the ones Dick had used when he was a puppy. Bruce made sure to avoid the blankets with the bittersweet memories.
After that, he made a stop in the foyer, in Alfred’s room, and Dick’s room to collect the scents he needed. He wasn’t sure how Tim would feel about the colors and textures of the items he selected, but he could always go back for more later, he reminded himself as he walked back into his room.
Tim had buried his face in Bruce’s pillow. He didn’t move at all as Bruce approached, or when Bruce set the blankets on the foot of the bed.
Bruce reached out and shook Tim’s shoulder. “Tim? Don’t fall asleep yet. Don’t you want to make a nest?”
Tim sniffled and buried his face farther into the pillow before raising his face and making an attempt to dry his face before he looked up at Bruce.
Bruce softened and ran his fingers through Tim’s hair. “Tim…I told you I was coming back.”
Tim flinched. His pup flinched. He hadn't believed Bruce would come back to him. After all, Bruce supposed to himself bitterly, when had Jack and Janet ever come back when they’d told Tim they would? More than once, Tim had asked off Robin for a few days because his parents would be in town, only to show up the next night because “their plans changed.”
Bruce put his hand behind Tim’s back and gently guided the pup into a sitting position. Tim needed rest and proof that Bruce cared enough to stay. Words, Bruce had found with Jason and Tim, didn’t mean nearly as much as actions to traumatized pups.
“Do you want to make your nest?” Would Tim know how? Instinct tended to kick in, but Tim was young, and he rarely indulged his omegan instincts, so he might not know how. Bruce could make one, theoretically, but it might not be what Tim wanted. “I made a couple for Jason when he was injured, but I know that everyone is different.”
Tim stared up at Bruce with wide, stunned eyes. His scent cycled through stunned, scared, nervous very quickly before he hesitantly turned to look at the nest materials at the end of the bed. Bruce watched as Tim’s eyes widened even more before filling with tears.
For a moment, Bruce had the sickening thought that he had somehow done something very, very wrong—it wouldn’t have been the first time—but Tim’s scent swelled with loved-cherished-safe, and Bruce didn’t think he’d ever smelled anything sweeter. Tim’s wobbly little smile was so, so precious.
Tim took a minute to gather supplies—mainly the large number of pillows along the head of the unnecessarily large bed. Tim crawled like a very determined infant on wavering limbs, grabbing pillows and throwing them toward the center of the bed.
When he’d collected all the pillows, Tim crawled to the middle of the bed and started assembling them into a vague nest shape. The nest was too big for just Tim, Bruce noted. He wasn’t just going to be nearby, then; Tim was planning on having Bruce in the nest with him.
“I need—” Tim pursed his lips and made a vague gesture with his hand, like he was shaking out a blanket.
Bruce nodded and sifted through the blankets until he pulled out a thick down duvet that would work well to cover the base layer of pillows. Tim actually purred as he accepted the blanket.
Once the blanket was covering Tim’s pillow walls, Tim gestured at Bruce again, and Bruce pushed the whole pile of nesting materials to Tim so Tim could pick what would go where. Tim gave him a curt nod of approval. Bruce wished he’d had a video.
Tim started to actually nest. First, he put down a red blanket, then an orange blanket. Tim seemed happy with it, until apparently the arrangement offended him. Bruce saw nothing wrong with it, but Tim pulled the red blanket from underneath the orange blanket and set it on top. Even that wasn’t good enough for Tim, though, and his pup glared at the bedding as though personally offended by it, then dug through the rest of the blankets until he found Alfred’s glove. With a steady hand and surgical precision, Tim laid the glove over the edge where the blankets met.
Bruce chuckled, and Tim looked up, confused.
Tim was very opinionated on his nest. Dick’s scarf had to be placed just so at the foot of the bed, along with Dick’s shirt. Dick’s jacket had to be placed at the top of the nest, likely so Tim could smell it better.
It was too amusing not to laugh just a little when Tim spent a solid five minutes trying to arrange a blue blanket and a pink blanket.
“It’s not funny!” Tim exclaimed tearfully.
Bruce tried very, very hard not to smile, but he didn’t think he did well. “Of course Tim. I agree. You could never put the blue next to the pink. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
“That’s not it!” Tim gasped, betrayal sharp in his scent as he waved the blue blanket in his fist. “This is flannel!”
Bruce didn’t know why that mattered, but he pretended to be cajoled, and he took the offending blanket from Tim to hide it from sight.
Tim worked for nearly half an hour before he sat down, cross-legged, and surveyed the entire nest several times before taking a deep breath and shakily nodding to Bruce. However indistinguishable the nest was from any pile of blankets Bruce had seen before, to Tim, it was perfect and ready for his pack.
Bruce laid his hand on Tim’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Tim looked away at his nest again, one more check, before meeting Bruce’s eyes nervously.
Bruce smiled. “Tim, it’s lovely. I love it.”
Bruce carefully climbed into the nest, trying not to mess anything up, though Tim darted underneath him to prop up Alfred’s glove again. Once Bruce was settled, Tim smiled and grabbed the quilted comforter Tim had left out and pulling it over them.
Tim laid down right next to Bruce, and Bruce wrapped an arm around Tim to pull his son up to his chest. With Tim’s head pillowed on Bruce’s arm, Bruce could feel Tim’s warm breath and reminded himself again that Tim was alive and safe. He let his relief, his protectiveness, and his paternal possessiveness show thickly in his scent until Tim was purring contentedly.
Bruce rumbled to answer Tim’s purr and gently scented the pup. He watched a slow smile spread across Tim’s lips and was overcome with affection.
“Goodnight, Tim. I—” Bruce hesitated. Words had never been his strong suit, and actions mattered more, but he couldn’t help but think…maybe if he had been better with words, Jason might have lived. “I love you,” Bruce whispered.
Tim just nodded, and Bruce could feel the way his smile widened.
A minute later, Tim yawned widely, and Bruce chuckled at how precious it was.
“Go to sleep, Tim. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Bruce promised him, carding his fingers through Tim’s hair in the slow pace that had been Jason’s bane, even when Jason had been pleading one more page for fifty pages.
Tim sighed contentedly and adjusted Alfred’s glove one more time before snuggling up to Bruce and drifting off to sleep. Bruce stayed awake, though, to keep guard over his youngest son.