Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jason Todd pauses at the street corner, tightening his grip on the tire iron in his hand.

There, just two blocks away, is a gleaming silver convertible with the top down. It’s parked against the curb in Crime Alley beneath a street lamp that flickers off and on, brightening and dimming, at irregular intervals.

No one is in the car. No one is near the car.

It’s a trap.

Seriously, it couldn’t be any more obvious of a trap if the person who set it tried. Not even a rich person who was drunk and high would be stupid enough to drive into the Bowery, park their car — which has to be at least worth a hundred grand — and then piss off to … somewhere.

It’s not a trap set by the Gotham PD, because there’s no way they could afford a car like that to use as bait to catch gang bangers and chop shop workers. But that only eliminates one possibility. And Jason hasn’t survived on the streets this long alone after his Beta-mother died of an overdose to stupidly tangle with the mob. Or, perhaps, Black Mask or someone else who is so dangerous no one would dare touch their property, even when it is ripe for the taking.

He might be hungry and desperate for cash, but Jason isn’t stupid or suicidal. If it’s a general trap meant to catch anyone and everyone, he sure as hell isn’t falling for it.

Jason suppresses his own Omega scent even more tightly and takes a step backward. 

“Well, aren’t you an intriguing pup,” a frigid female voice drawls from right behind him.

A moment of hesitation on the streets can kill you. Jason knows that. He knows it with everything he is; it’s a fact that’s embedded into his bones and hardwired into his brain. Yet, he still freezes up for a second before spinning sharply on his heel as he raises the tire iron protectively in front of him.

How did she get behind him? How?  

As much as Jason wants to know, it won’t matter too much in the long run. Because whatever she wants with him, it won’t matter. He’s not afraid to use the tire iron on her if it becomes necessary. Jason has defended himself countless times before, and he knows he will do so many, many, many more times in the future.

Packless pups don’t have anyone to protect them or provide for them.

If he wants to live — Jason does; he’s not going to let death swallow him whole — then he has to scrounge up his own food and place to live. He has to be willing to attack viciously in his own defense. He has to—

“Black hair and blue eyes. That’s a mark in your favor,” the woman states as if it’s fact and nothing more.

Jason’s gaze locks on her as he comes to a stop, now facing her. She … she looks expensive. And not high-class escort expensive. She looks the kind of expensive that means she must be from the Diamond District. She looks the kind of expensive that means she could probably purchase the entire Bowery with the interest from one bank account. She looks the kind of expensive that means she could probably kill him and bribe the police to make any evidence go away.

Ah, actually, the glacial blue eyes that are dissecting him from head to toe tell Jason she would never be foolish enough to leave any evidence if she committed a crime.

The white of her pantsuit is a sharp contrast to the filthiness of their surroundings. She couldn’t be more out of place if she tried.

It seems like he’s found the owner of the convertible. Or, more like, she’s found him.

“I’m aware that malnutrition leads to stunted growth. How old are you?” she demands. And it is a demand for an answer to her question.

“Look, lady, I don’t know who you think you are—”

“Janet Drake,” she states with frosty sharpness as if her name itself is a weapon.

Jason sucks in a breath so quickly that it makes him cough. In the process, he realizes that he can’t smell her at all. So that’s how she snuck up on him. He almost wants to blame scent-blocking patches — given who she is, she can more than afford them — but she seems like the type of person who doesn’t tolerate anything outside her control, not even her own biological functions.

He might be from the Bowery, but Jason is intelligent and well-informed. He refuses to be a statistic of what impoverished pups can achieve. He’s going to do better for himself than his parents did. He won’t be a drug addict or a drunk or a repeat criminal. Jason is going to go to college someday. He’s going to get a degree. He’s going to break the cycle. No matter what it takes.

The Drakes aren’t the Waynes. Nobody in Gotham outshines the Waynes in terms of wealth and social status. But, hell, if anyone ever had a chance of standing on almost equal ground, it would probably be the Drakes.

“How old are you?” Janet demands.

There’s a hint of command in her voice, but for the life of him, Jason can’t tell if it’s Alpha-command or Omega-command. It’s as impressive as it is chilling.

“Why do you want to know?” Jason asks, hands tightening on his tire iron as he locks gazes with her.

Gossip about the Gotham Elite is easy to come by. It’s in the society pages; it’s online. It’s spread by word of mouth more virulently than an STD in a brothel. For all the dirt he knows about various rich families in Gotham, he’s never heard anything disturbing about the Drakes. So, for the moment, at least, Jason lets his curiosity override his common sense.

He makes sure to keep his scent locked down, not allowing even a whiff of his emotional and mental state to escape.

“Fascinating,” Janet says as she inhales deeply. “You have excellent self-mastery. That’s another mark in your favor.”

The way she says it gives Jason the impression of someone looking at the item-specifics of something they intend to purchase, checking the fine print and nitpicky details to see if it meets the expected standards.

“Tell me your age and designation, pup,” Janet demands. She taps one lacquered nail against the sleeve of her white pantsuit; it’s a startling blood-red. Not imitation blood-red, but the actual color of dried blood. As if she had her manicurist paint them with the blood of those who dare to oppose her.

Jason straightens his spine and shoulders, making his posture as perfect as he can, and asks, “And why should I do that?”

Fear is one of Jason’s closest companions. He’s lived with it for so long now, almost his entire life. They’ve become even closer since his Beta-mother died and he took to the streets. But he’s spent so much of his life afraid that he doesn’t react how most pups do when faced with uncertain and possibly dangerous situations. He’s been afraid so long that it no longer steals the breath from his throat or digs claws into his stomach. He’s learned to eat it whole, stand tall, and wield the adrenaline it gives him against whatever inspires it.

He might not be wealthy or powerful in the traditional sense, but Jason refuses to cower.

Janet’s lips, also painted blood-red, curl with a vicious sort of delight. Her teeth are white and straight and flash in the night as she laughs, dark and throaty.

A chill goes down Jason’s spine, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

“You’re perfect,” Janet purrs with delighted relish. 

Then, before Jason can even react, Janet bends at the waist, lowering herself to his level. Though, honestly, she doesn’t have to lean down very far. For all that Jason is underweight and small for his age, Janet Drake isn’t an especially tall woman. She curls a hand around the tire iron, pushes it down, and then licks the right side of Jason’s neck.

The tire iron would have fallen and broken Jason’s toes if Janet hadn’t been holding it in a loose fist to move it out of her way.

Janet Drake … Janet Drake just adopted him.

Jason’s heart races in his chest. It’s hard to breathe. He feels like he’s going to pass out as black spots dance before his vision.

“What the hell?”

“Language, pup,” Janet admonishes with a wrinkled nose. “Being vulgar is fine, but do be eloquent while doing so. You’re a Drake now, after all.”

Jason swallows roughly and blindly follows her as she directs him with a firm hand on his shoulder. Not even the sound of his precious tire iron, which has saved his life more than once, being tossed aside on the ground rouses him from the fog that’s clouding his mind.

He hears a car door open and then close behind him. He feels a seatbelt being buckled at his hip. He hears the ignition turning over as the car rumbles to life. He feels wind whipping through his hair — Holy crap, he’s in the convertible, isn’t he? The car that costs over a hundred grand! — but that does nothing to blast the mental fugue away.

Janet Drake adopted him.

Jason … Jason has a pack again.

He … he—

Tears sting Jason’s eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. Janet Drake said he was perfect and adopted him. If he breaks down now, if he shows weakness instead of strength, she might—

Janet takes her right hand off the gearshift and rubs it against Jason’s curls, covering him in Alpha-possessive-pup-mine-safety.

Jason loses the battle against the tears; they drip messily down his face. His shoulders shake despite his best efforts. His lip hurts from how tightly he’s bitten it to keep in his desperate, helpless pup-cries.

He has never felt this safe in his entire life. And even though the thought is brutally honest, it also hurts. Because for all that Jason knows his Beta-mother loved him, she never made him feel safe. Not instinct-deep. 

It feels like a betrayal how his deepest instincts are purring with pleasure in his soul at being adopted and claimed as the pup of an Alpha like Janet Drake. 

Jason doesn’t doubt for a second that she will kill to keep him safe. Her scent, now that she’s unfurled it for him, can’t disguise the truth. She has vicious, primitive pack instincts. If he knows and understands nothing else of the situation, Jason understands that she will allow no harm to come to him, if at all possible. And he feels in his bones that, should anyone ever succeed, her vengeance on his behalf will be downright prehistoric.

“Tears are not a weakness when they are the result of an emotional response between packmates, the only people who are allowed to touch your heart and soul,” Janet states. “Do not allow anyone outside our pack this luxury, pup.”

It’s the most awkward reassurance he’s ever heard … if it can even be called that. However, it’s exactly what he needs to hear.

“Jason,” he offers. Because she’s his Alpha-mother now. She’s changed his entire life for reasons he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know why she was in the Bowery, and he doesn’t care. Even if it was a whim. Even if adopting orphans is currently popular among the Gotham Elite because Bruce Wayne did it a few years ago. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. 

Janet Drake scented his neck with her saliva and pheromones, embedding them into his own scent glands and body.

She can’t take it back or change her mind. He’s a—

“Jason Drake,” he concludes with steel in his voice as he unfurls his own scent. You-won’t-regret-this pours out of him like an exploding bomb.

“Regrets are for the weak,” Janet replies, answering his sensory message verbally. 

Jason doesn’t disagree with her. He’s always been too busy looking forward to dwell on what’s behind him. Since he was a young pup, he’s been determined to break the cycle. He never once thought anyone would help him do that. Not ever. Only the truly foolish or the extremely desperate accept any kind of handouts in the Bowery. So, no, Jason never thought to hope that help would come.

But then—

Well, how could anyone have ever thought to plan for the whims of Janet Drake?

Jason turns to look at his new mother, at the Alpha who’s changed his entire life and future — the Drakes are loaded; he’ll be able to go to college for sure! — and releases the last bit of his scent that he’s locked away since the first time he smelled it on himself years ago. 

Janet licks her lips as if she’s tasting a fine wine. Feral-success oozes off of her in waves, spilling out into the night as she speeds through the Gotham streets, treating the traffic lights and signs as if they’re suggestions and not laws. The grin that curls her lips is fearsome as she purrs, “You’re an Omega.”

For the first time in his life, Jason admits it aloud. “Yes.”

She looks away from the winding road entirely, glacial blue eyes shining beneath her brown hair. Smug-ecstatic-self-satisfaction spills from her like a perfume that costs one thousand dollars per ounce. 

“You’re perfect. He’s going to love you.”

Before Jason can puzzle that out, or ask who she means, the convertible swerves towards a gleaming set of wrought iron gates. If it weren’t a warm summer evening, he would probably have caught a cold or ear infection from the wind. As it is, all he has to deal with is his black curls being even more of a riotous mess than usual, according to the side mirror.

The gates open. 

Jason clenches his jaw to keep it from dropping as he stares up at the enormous manor house that’s at the end of a long driveway. The grounds are hard to make out in the semi-dark, but he sees trees and some type of gardens and what looks like miles and miles of rolling lawn.

The convertible stops not far from the front steps, the headlights lighting up the grounds. Is that a—?

“Come along,” Janet orders as she unbuckles her seatbelt and exits the car with the keys still in the ignition, “my flight leaves in an hour. This will, by necessity, have to be quick.”

Jason’s brow furrows as he unbuckles his own seatbelt and gets out of the car. She’s leaving? So soon? And it doesn’t sound like she intends to take Jason with her. So what is—?

Janet doesn’t glance over her shoulder as she heads for the front door. Jason hurries after her because she’s already told him to come with her. Their bond is still new. But, somehow, someway, Janet Drake thinks Jason is perfect. He can’t disappoint her now by being disobedient to such a simple order and risk disillusioning her.

There’s a chandelier on the porch. A chandelier. It illuminates the entire front door and porch.

The Drakes clearly possess a level of wealth that Jason has never seen outside of films. It’s the type of wealth he’s read about in classical novels written hundreds of years ago.

And now, suddenly, Jason belongs to a pack that can afford to have a chandelier on their porch. He’s not even sure how to begin processing that fact and assimilating it into his identity.

Before they reach the front door, it’s opened from the inside.

A boy, perhaps a young teen at most, stands in the doorway. He has shiny black hair, piercing blue eyes, and high-class defined features that announce his purebred heritage to the world. His eyes widen the slightest bit, but that’s the only sign of surprise he gives away. 

Jason can’t smell him at all.

The boy tilts his head to the left exactly two inches in submission, before straightening his neck again. “Mother, I thought you were in Uruguay this month.”

To Jason’s shock, Janet kneels on the ground, seemingly uncaring of her white pantsuit. She stares right into her pup’s eyes, as if he’s worthy of being her equal and deserves her respect, to be on the same level she is. Jason can’t imagine her so much as bending her neck for anyone else in the world. Yet, here she is on her knees for her pup. 

She must love him more than words can say.

Jason is so grateful that she found him and adopted him into her pack if this is how she treats those who can lay claim to her loyalty and love.

Janet rubs her wrist against the right side of her son’s neck. She fairly drowns the pup in pride-love-mine-pup-forever.

“Business might be unavoidable and often keep your father and I away, Timothy, but today is a special occasion. Allowances must be made,” Janet states.

She crooks her finger over her shoulder at Jason.

As Jason takes a step forward onto the porch and into the light, Timothy’s gaze snaps to him. Timothy’s brow furrows in confusion before his nostrils flare. Then his eyes widen even more. 

“Mother,” Timothy breathes, entirely losing control of his scent and spilling awed-hope everywhere like a bottle of gin that’s been knocked over without the stopper to plug it. 

“Ten is an auspicious birthday for a Drake Alpha, Timothy. Your brother’s name is Jason. I hope your present is to your liking,” Janet says.

Holy crap.

Janet Drake adopted Jason to give her pup a brother for his tenth birthday. Someone to, presumably, keep Timothy company while she and her husband were, apparently, often gone on business.

“He’s perfect, Mother. I love him. Thank you so much,” Timothy says, eyes shiny.

Jason’s heart clenches in his chest. There’s no lie in the pup’s scent. All it took for this kid to love Jason was to see him and be told that Jason is his brother. 

That’s— Jason’s eyes ache. 

Janet grips Timothy’s chin and turns his attention back to her, expression solemn and scent saying this-is-crucial-pay-attention. “He’s an Omega, Timothy. I’m trusting you to take proper care of him and treat him with all the respect and courtesies he’s due.”

It’s only when Timothy rips his head from Janet’s grasp by jerking to look at Jason that Jason realizes he instinctively hid his Omega scent when the door started to open. He’s never been one to trust unknowns with his scent. Not when being an Omega in the Bowery is so dangerous.

But this isn’t an unknown. This is his ten-year-old baby brother. A baby brother who loves him.

Shaking from the adrenaline and emotional and mental shocks, Jason lets his designation drift into the evening air. It’s unmistakably the scent of milk-and-honey, an unpresented Omega.

Timothy dodges around his mother and throws himself at Jason with a complete lack of decorum that Jason thinks would usually irritate Janet. However, she merely gets back to her feet with a smug smirk and walks back to the idling convertible, pausing only long enough to ruffle their hair on the way past.

“I’ll visit in two months. I expect your brother to receive exquisite care, Timothy,” Janet states as she gets in the car.

“He will! I promise!” Timothy answers as she speeds back into the Gotham night.

Jason stares down at the warm pup who’s wrapped around him. Timothy is ten today and as tall as Jason. Maybe the slightest bit taller, actually.

“It’s nice to meet you, Timothy,” Jason says, because he knows his manners, even if he doesn’t always use them.

The pup blinks tears from wet, blue eyes and burrows his face in Jason’s neck, rubbing his own scent into Jason’s skin and scent glands as well, claiming him as pack-brother-precious-mine. 

“Tim. I prefer Tim,” Timothy says.

“Tim,” Jason corrects himself.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Tim rasps, leaning back in Jason’s hold to beam up at him. “I’ll take the best care of you. I promise. You can have anything you want. Anything at all.”

Jason’s mouth works soundlessly. He’s gone from having basically nothing to being the Pack Omega of one of the wealthiest packs in all of Gotham in a matter of hours. He has a pack, a safe den, and will surely have enough food to eat. 

It’s like a dream. A miracle. He’s still half-expecting to wake up in the morning in his nest made of blanket scraps and newspaper and realize this is all a dream. 

But if it’s not … if this is real—

“Can I have a bath?” Jason asks, voice gruff and shaking.

“Yes.”

“And something to eat?” he wonders.

“Absolutely.”

“Can we nest together tonight?” Jason dares to say, imagining a comfortable, fluffy nest with plenty of pillows and blankets and a pack-brother-pup curled into his side so he’s not cold or alone.

“Please,” Tim whimpers.

Jason looks into blue eyes that are so like Janet’s, except for how Tim’s eyes look like melting glaciers, and asks, “Can I stay with you, little brother?”

Timothy grabs Jason’s hand and drags him toward the open door that leads into the Drake’s manor-den. The door that leads to home and safety and warmth and hope.

“Forever,” Timothy Alpha-growls, flooding the air with I-give-you-my-word and nothing-will-ever-make-me-change-my-mind.

Jason believes him and steps into Drake Manor.

Chapter Text

When Tim closes the door behind them, it feels like he’s shutting the door on Jason’s past. With the adoption, Jason has a new pack and a new last name. His future is going to be entirely different now. He won’t have to scrounge for food. He won’t have to desperately hope that he’ll be safe in his nest for the entire night.

Wealth brings with it a certain level of security that Jason never expected to possess in his life. However, even more than the obvious wealth of his new pack, Jason is grateful to feel loved again.

“You wanted a bath first, right?” Tim asks as he grabs Jason’s hand and leads him toward a grand staircase.

“Right,” Jason agrees.

The inside of Drake Manor is beautiful and clean and Jason can’t help feeling out of place. Intellectually, he knows that he’s allowed to be here. In fact, given Tim’s enthusiasm, Jason is more than welcome. Still, Jason can’t help but look down at his filthy clothes and ratty shoes and wonder if he smells as bad as he looks. He does his best to keep clean, but there’s only so much that he could do while living on his own.

“I have clothes you can borrow until we order you some,” Tim says, happy-excitement perfuming the air around him. “I’m sure Mother will have your credit cards issued soon. Until they arrive, you can use mine.”

Jason almost trips over his feet in surprise.

“Credit cards?” he yelps.

Is Janet Drake seriously going to have credit cards issued to Jason when she just took him in? That’s— Wait. Credit cards. Plural. Tim has multiple credit cards in his name and he’s just turning ten years old today?

“Of course,” Tim replies with a wide smile. “There’s a five thousand dollar per month limit, to teach us financial responsibility, but that’s enough to purchase a new wardrobe. We can get started on that tomorrow.”

“Five thousand dollars?” Jason yelps, stumbling slightly.

Tim nods and says, “If you don’t spend it all, the extra gets deposited into a trust fund in your name.”

Jason has a million questions that he’s not going to ask. He didn’t follow Janet Drake for money. He doesn’t want Tim to think that’s all Jason is interested in. He doesn’t want this pup-brother who accepted Jason so readily to think that Jason is just here to use Tim and his parents.

What Jason values most is the warmth of the pack bonds in his chest and the simplistic way Tim said, “He’s perfect, Mother. I love him.” 

Tim stops at the end of a long corridor and gestures at the door at the end of it. “This is the family wing. That’s Mother and Father’s room. We’re not allowed to go in there without permission. My room is three doors down,” Tim says, pointing at another door. “Father’s study and Mother’s office are between their bedroom and mine. We’re not allowed in either without permission.” Tim waves his hand at a series of four doors across the hall from Tim’s room. “You can pick whichever suite you would like, Jason.”

The thought of having his own suite is overwhelming.

Jason has spent so long now huddled in his makeshift nest in an abandoned apartment the size of a closet that the thought of having such a large space to himself is … he doesn’t think he can bear it. Not yet. Not after how he’s been living all of this time. The mansion itself already feels enormous to him. Jason doesn’t want to sleep alone in a large space that’s sure to feel open and unprotected.

“Is—?” He bites his lip.

“Is?” Tim queries with patient-attention filling the air around them.

Jason steadies his nerves and remembers how Tim said  “Please!”  earlier in answer to Jason’s question on if they could nest together. Janet and Jack appear to be out of town for work on a regular basis. It’s entirely possible that Tim will jump at the chance to share his room for now.

“Is it okay if I stay in your room with you?” Jason whispers, his nervous-embarrassment scenting the air. “I’ve been sleeping alone for so long … I—” 

“Yes!” Tim yells. Absolute-joy-brotherly-love-excitement marks the corridor as Tim beams at Jason and tugs him toward the door he pointed to earlier as his bedroom. “My nest is more than big enough for the both of us,” Tim says.

Jason politely doesn’t mention how Tim’s blue eyes are shiny and wet. He doesn’t mention how Tim’s fingers are shaking against Jason’s skin. He doesn’t say anything when Tim tucks his scent away as if he’s sheltering emotional vulnerabilities.

It must be hard when Janet and Jack Drake leave on business so often. Tim is so loving and sweet that Jason knows the pup must miss them a great deal while they’re gone. And given how Janet got on her knees to scent Tim with all of her fierce love and care, there’s no doubt that their pack bonds are strong and full of love. He would know that just from observing them, even if he couldn’t feel them himself.

Tim tugs Jason into his suite and through a sitting room to a massive bathroom before Jason can really take it in. 

“Wow,” Jason says as he stares at the size of the bathtub. It’s the largest bathtub he’s ever seen in person, sunken into the marble floor.

Tim releases Jason and stoppers the tub before turning on the water. He snatches up a bottle and brandishes it at Jason with a toothy grin. “Bubbles?”

Jason swallows roughly. He hasn’t had a bubble bath since his mom was still alive. Bubble baths were a luxury he lost access to when he was living on the streets. To have one again— “Yeah,” Jason rasps. “Bubbles, please.”

Tim dumps several capfuls of bubble bath into the tub and then scoops up some of the frothy bubbles that are already forming to blow them at Jason.

Jason laughs as he catches them.

“I’ll get you some clothes,” Tim says, Alpha-protection drifting into the air. His eyes narrow to something sharp and calculating as they sweep down Jason’s body before he nods. “We’re close enough to the same size that mine will work for now.”

“Thank you, Tim,” Jason replies.

“I’ll be right back,” Tim says as if to reassure Jason that he isn’t going to disappear. Or, perhaps, to reassure himself that Jason isn’t going to disappear.

Jason leans against the vanity as the bathtub slowly fills and the mound of bubbles expands. The marble of the vanity digs into his butt, and he still isn’t sure that this isn’t all a weird dream. It’s so difficult to imagine this being real. 

Things like this just don’t happen to people like Jason.

“Here you go,” Tim says, padding back into the bathroom and setting the clothes on the countertop.

Wordless gratitude spills off of Jason. Tim ducks his head with a slight flush and a soft smile on his face. 

“I’ll be out there when you’re done,” Tim says before closing the door behind him.

Jason strips down to his filthy skin and sinks into the bath. He sighs happily as the water warms him and the bubbles pop against his skin. It smells like apples and cinnamon. As much as he wants to soak and play, he doesn’t. He can already feel the nervousness in his bond with Tim. His little Alpha pup brother is probably worrying about whether he’s taking proper care of his new Omega brother, especially given how firm Janet’s admonishment was. 

“I expect your brother to receive exquisite care, Timothy.”

So Jason makes use of the soaps and shampoo and conditioner that are next to the tub. It feels like he loses six layers of skin while scrubbing himself clean. It hurts to pick out all the knots in his curls when he washes it, but he feels so much better when he’s done.

Omegas relish in being clean. He’s so grateful that it’s a feeling he will get to experience regularly from now on.

“Jason Drake,” he tries out after pulling the stopper.

It sounds powerful.  He  sounds powerful. Jason likes it. He likes it  a lot.

Jason dries off with one of the towels on the heated rack; Tim must have turned that on when Jason wasn’t paying attention. Then he dresses in the clothes that Tim brought him. It’s a set of warm pajamas in the softest fabric that Jason has ever felt in his life. 

He opens the door and almost walks right into Tim’s back. Jason has to swallow down a lump in his throat. Tim stood guard while Jason was bathing. He’s just a scrawny, little pup, but that didn’t dissuade him from protecting Jason like a proper Alpha.

Jason couldn’t have asked for a better brother than this pup.

“Thank you for your protection, Alpha,” Jason says, genuine-gratitude-affection filling the air around them. 

Tim’s scent unfurls in a wave of pleased-satisfaction-care. He turns around and grins at Jason. “It was my pleasure.”

Jason hugs his new brother tightly, breath hitching as the pup melts against him and clings. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that given Jason’s previous circumstances and how often Janet and Jack are gone, both of them are suffering from some level of touch starvation. He foresees a lot of hugs and cuddles in his future.

“Where should I throw away my old clothes?” Jason asks.

“You don’t want to keep them?”

“No.”

The only thing that’s his that Jason plans to keep from his old life is his first name, which his Beta-mother gave him. The clothes puddled on the bathroom floor don’t have any good memories attached to them. If anything, they remind him of being constantly hungry and alone.

“There’s a garbage can under the bathroom sink,” Tim says.

Jason gathers up his old clothes and shoves them in the garbage. He barely recognizes himself in the mirror as he washes his hands. His blue eyes look larger and his skin looks paler and dirt-free in the bathroom lighting. His hair is clean, but it’s a tousled mess. 

When Tim steps up beside him, Jason stares at their reflections side-by-side.

“We look like brothers,” Tim whispers, happy-wistful.

“We really do,” Jason agrees.

He always wanted a brother, but he also knew that he would never get one. It was a foolish dream that started when he was a little pup. He wanted a brother to play with, someone to keep him company when his mom’s mind was anywhere but with him. Then she overdosed and that dream died with her.

Yet, here he is with a brother at his side. All because Janet Drake decided to adopt him as a gift for her pup’s birthday.

Oh! He forgot to—

“Happy Birthday, Tim!” Jason says.

The smile that Tim gives Jason is so bright that it could light the slums of Gotham for an entire year.

“Thank you, Jason!” Tim says as he latches onto Jason in another strong hug. “I’m—” Tim shakes and sniffles a bit, his face tucked into Jason’s neck. “I’m so happy you’re here, Jason.”

Jason raises a hand and ruffles Tim’s hair, rubbing care-joy-baby-brother into the black strands. “Me too, Tim. Me too.”

Tim clears his throat and pulls away. Jason pretends not to see Tim scrubbing a few tears off of his cheeks. He doesn’t want to embarrass the pup.

“Do you want me to…?” Tim picks up a hairbrush from the vanity with wide, hopeful eyes.

Jason honestly can’t remember the last time anyone but himself brushed his hair. Without a doubt, it’s been years. The last person to do so must have been his mom. But, traditionally, it’s part of caring for an Omega. Even if Janet hadn’t given him an order, Jason gets the impression that Tim would still offer him every respect and courtesy that he’s due as an Omega.

“Please,” Jason answers.

He follows Tim out into the sitting room and settles down on one end of a plush couch. It’s close to an unlit fireplace and several built-in shelves that have a mixture of books, games, action figures, and framed photographs on them. The room feels very comfortable. It smells like his new brother. Jason likes it.

“Let me know if I pull too hard,” Tim says before he starts.

“I will.”

Jason feels like he’s melting as the bristles of the brush gently massage his scalp. For all that Tim seems nervous about hurting him, Jason isn’t worried at all. Tim’s touch is light and gentle and he never yanks when Jason’s curls tangle around each other. He’s patient, petting Jason’s slowly drying hair as he brushes through it. 

“It’s so soft,” Tim says, awed-delighted.

Jason purrs and leans into the touch. If this is something he gets to experience after every time he washes his hair, he never wants to move out of Drake Manor. If staying means constant care and affection and everything he’s been missing out on … well, he couldn’t be more grateful to Janet for choosing him as her pup’s brother.

The ache that’s been festering inside of Jason since he lost his pack bond with his mother eases. 

By the time Tim finishes, Jason can’t smell even a remnant of the shampoo and conditioner he used in the bath. Because his hair now smells like Tim’s claim of precious-Omega-brother-mine.

He’s not alone anymore. If Jason takes Tim’s words earlier at face value — he thinks he can — then he will never have to be alone again.

Maybe miracles really do happen for people like him.

Chapter Text

Jason’s cheeks flush when his stomach rumbles.

His nostrils flare a moment later as guilt-failure wafts off of Tim before it’s smothered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken so long to brush your hair. You’re hungry—”

Jason rolls off of the couch and onto his feet and tugs Tim against him in a warm hug. “Hey, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who told you that I wanted a bath before eating. I’m the one who agreed to you brushing my hair. You’re not failing at being an Alpha, Tim. You’re already the best Alpha that I’ve ever had in my life.”

Tim’s shoulders, which were hunched up by his ears, slowly sink back down. “Are you sure? I could have brought you a snack, or—”

“I’m sure,” Jason says because he’s not going to let his new brother think that he’s doing an awful job of taking care of Jason. Tim has already shown Jason more care since his arrival than Willis Todd ever did during Jason’s entire puphood.

He hopes that Willis is screaming his head off and clawing at his skin in prison. A severed pack bond from a Pack Omega abandoning one pack for another is supposedly one of the worst agonies a person can suffer through. The bastard more than deserves it.

“Let’s go eat, then,” Tim says as Jason’s stomach rumbles a second time.

Jason has done his best to take care of himself while still staying safe. Sometimes, that means he doesn’t eat more than one meal a day. Sometimes, that means he doesn’t eat at all. It’s so hard to believe that he doesn’t have to worry about that from now on. A kitchen, a refrigerator, and cupboards full of food seem like such a luxury when compared to how he’s been living.

He hopes it’s something he’ll always be grateful for. Jason hopes that he’ll never forget what a blessing it is that Janet chose him to be her adopted son and Tim’s birthday present.

“What’s your favorite food?” Tim asks as he leads Jason out of the room and down the hallway.

“Well, I really like chili dogs,” Jason says. They’re warm and filling and there’s an old guy with a gruff voice who gives Jason a free one from his cart every Friday night in the Bowery. 

“What else?” Tim asks.

“I like Neapolitan ice cream,” Jason says longingly. 

It’s been a very long time since Jason last had ice cream. When he did manage to get some cash running errands and such, he was never wasteful with it. Ice cream always sounds good at the moment, but it isn’t filling and he didn’t want to end up regretting it, which would sour the whole experience.

“I’ll make sure the ingredients for chili dogs and Neapolitan ice cream are added to the grocery list,” Tim says. “Mrs. Mac will get them for us.”

“Mrs. Mac?” Jason asks as they head down the staircase.

“Mrs. McIlvaine is our housekeeper. She stops by once a month to oversee the maids who do the cleaning. She checks in with me weekly and prepares meals that can be frozen and reheated later. My parents asked if I wanted her to live here with me, but I said no. She doesn’t smell like our pack. I don’t mind her scent being in the Manor short-term, but it puts my instincts on edge if she’s here too long,” Tim explains.

Jason shudders at the thought of having a stranger’s scent all over the pack den. He understands Tim’s decision all too well. It would probably bother Jason even more as Pack Omega than it does Tim as an Alpha.

Now that Jason isn’t so distracted by the newness of the situation, he notices three distinct scents embedded into the downstairs of Drake Manor. It’s the same three scents that were so prominent up in the family wing. Tim’s and Janet’s are easily discerned, which means the third must be Jack Drake’s scent. Jack smells … steady.

“Is Jac—Dad a beta?” Jason asks.

Tim smiles at Jason, his scent fluttering with pleased-delight. “You can tell already? You’re going to be an amazing Pack Omega!”

Jason rubs the back of his neck and ducks his head. He’s not used to being praised. It makes his chest feel warm and his stomach flip-flop. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, uh, what’s your favorite food?” Jason asks as they walk past a living room that is lined with shelves displaying artifacts from all over the world. What in the—? Oh! Right. The Drakes are amateur archeologists or something like that, right? 

“Donuts and potato chips,” Tim says sheepishly. “But I do eat proper food, too. Mrs. Mac makes sure of it. Mother gave her strict instructions to ensure the meals she prepares provide all of the nutrients that a growing pup needs.”

“Your mom really loves you,” Jason says. It’s obvious that Tim loves her just as much as she loves him.

“Our  mom,” Tim corrects instantly as determined-happiness flurries around him.

“Our mom,” Jason agrees.

It’s the truth, after all. Janet Drake has legally brought him into her pack and adopted him. It might take a while to think of her as his mother without tripping over her name in his head, but she  is  his mother now.

“Yes, she does,” Tim says, loved-protective-pack spilling from his scent glands. “It took quite a while before she got pregnant with me. She wanted to have more pups, but she couldn’t. I think she’s always felt guilty she couldn’t give me any brothers or sisters.”

It’s well-known that some female Alphas have trouble conceiving. Jack being a Beta would have made it even more difficult. It wouldn’t be incorrect to call Tim a miracle pup. Yet, Jason can’t help wondering how much it killed Janet Drake inside to not be able to provide Tim with the siblings he so clearly wants. For an Alpha as strong and proud as she is, it must have felt like the most humiliating of failures.

Yet, she found a way to succeed and give her pup what he wanted in the end. Even if her manner of doing so was … unorthodox.

Jason wraps an arm around Tim’s shoulders and hugs him. “She did. You have me now.”

Tim hugs Jason and scents him strongly with precious-Omega-brother-mine. “Yes, I do. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“So am I,” Jason whispers. His stomach rumbles even more loudly than before. 

Tim wraps his hand around Jason’s wrist and leads him into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator. He pulls it open and asks, “Does anything look good?”

There’s more food in the refrigerator than Jason has seen in one place — that’s not a grocery store — since he took to the streets. The variety is overwhelming. He doesn’t know where to start.

“What did you have?” Jason asks.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Tim says. “I was about to have dinner when the security system alerted me to the gates opening down at the drive.”

“Oh!” Jason glances over at the microwave and sees that it’s only 8:13 p.m. With the cloud cover and pollution, it’s easy to forget that dark skies don’t always mean it’s the deep hours of the night. 

“What would you like? You can have anything.”

“It’s your birthday, Tim. You should pick,” Jason says. 

When Jason was a little pup, before his mom’s addiction, that’s how they did things. The birthday person got to pick dinner and dessert and decide whether they would watch a movie or play a game. It’s a precious memory from before all the painful ones he wishes he could forget. He wants to share that tradition with Tim.

“I was going to have the macaroni and cheese casserole,” Tim says as he pulls out a medium-sized container from the second shelf down. 

“That sounds great,” Jason says. He’s always liked macaroni and cheese, and it must be good if that is what Tim is picking for his birthday dinner.

“It is,” Tim says as he removes the lid and puts it in the microwave.

Jason doesn’t offer a word of complaint when Tim dishes them each up a small side salad in bowls. Vegetables are  expensive.  Knowing how rich the Drakes are, all of the ingredients are probably organic. Jason has definitely missed out on a lot of nutrients that are essential to the healthy development of a pup in his lifetime. He’s not going to refuse anything Tim puts in front of him.

Tim’s handing him the bowl of salad when he suddenly snatches it back. “I forgot to ask if you have food allergies!”

“It’s fine, Tim. I would have said something if I did,” Jason says quickly. “As far as I know, I’m not allergic to anything.”

“I’ll have the doctor do a full allergy panel when you get your physical later this week,” Tim says, offering the salad again with a smile.

The words,  I can’t go to the doctor; it's too expensive!  almost spill from Jason’s mouth by rote. He manages to stop them in time. That’s right. He’s a part of the Drake Pack now. He doesn’t have to worry about things like that anymore. His adoptive parents are responsible for providing him with excellent healthcare.

Jason eats his salad in silence, his thoughts spinning in his head.

He realizes that it will take a while, months, possibly even years, to become accustomed to all of the changes that will come from his adoption. It seems he will have a lot of surprises to look forward to because he hadn’t even considered that, of course, his new pack would ensure he gets a proper medical examination. It makes complete sense given that Janet found him in the Bowery.

The microwave dings.

“Are you finished?” Tim asks, hand extended to take Jason’s salad bowl and fork.

“Yes, thank you,” Jason replies.

Tim loads their used dishes into the dishwasher and then fills another two bowls with the macaroni and cheese casserole. It’s a beautiful golden color with crisp breadcrumbs on top. The cheese stretches into long strings as Tim scoops it out. It smells delicious.

Jason carries his bowl and the glass of water that Tim hands him to the small table in the kitchen. Well, it’s small when compared to the massive, hand-carved formal dining room table that must seat a minimum of twenty-six people that they passed on the way to the kitchen. This table only seats six.

“Where should I sit?” Jason asks, unsure if their family has particular seats they prefer. He’s new here. He belongs, of course, but he doesn’t want to wreak havoc on how the pack operates.

Confusion rolls off of Tim quite strongly. “At the head of the table. You’re the Pack Omega,” Tim states as if the answer should be obvious and he’s not sure exactly why Jason is asking him that. “Is this … are you testing me?”

“No!” Jason refutes immediately. It’s not a test of Tim’s abilities as an Alpha or Tim’s dedication to following through with Janet’s instructions to take proper care of Jason. He doesn’t want his little brother to think that. It’s not true.

“Then why…?” Tim’s brow wrinkles.

“My old man isn’t—” Jason looks anywhere but Tim, his eyes burning. 

Jason can’t help but remember the day he learned that Pack Omegas are supposed to sit at the head of the table. He remembers coming home from school, stupidly excited, flush full of confidence that he was special. He remembers how he clambered onto the chair at the head of the table after his mother brought the food out. And he’ll never forget how Willis took one look at Jason sitting in  his  seat before punching the table so hard that it broke in half, the food spilling everywhere. Willis screamed at Jason about how it was  his  hard work that put food on the table and—

“Your father didn’t relinquish his seat at the head of the table,” Tim states, his voice jagged and wintry.

“No, he didn’t.”

Tim sets his dinner and drink down on the table, directly to the left of where the Pack Omega is meant to sit. Then he takes the dishes from Jason and puts them down at the head of the table. He pulls out the chair there, bows, baring his neck in the process, and says, “It would be my honor if you would consent to dine with me, Jason.”

Tears prick at the back of Jason’s eyes. A Pack Omega is supposed to be the Heart of the Pack. A heart is meant to be handled with care. Tim’s formal invitation is a display of deference, respect, and love.

This new pup-brother of his is going to be the death of him.

Jason rubs gratitude-affection into Tim’s neck before taking his place at the head of the table. And if he gets some tears in his macaroni and cheese … well, Tim is kind enough to not comment on it, only silently passing him a cloth napkin to wipe his face.

Tim clears the table after they finish, and then returns with two forks and a small birthday cake that’s about the size of three cupcakes combined. 

“It’s chocolate,” Tim says as he offers one of the forks to Jason.

Jason hasn’t had cake in  years.  He accepts the fork but doesn’t dive right in. First things first.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!” Jason sings, staring at the pup who changed Jason’s entire life. Without Tim, without his birthday, Jason would still be alone in the Bowery. Tim’s wish for a sibling is the reason Janet came and found him and adopted him into the Drake Pack. “Happy birthday,  baby brother!  Happy birthday to you!”

Tim shoves a big forkful of chocolate cake into his mouth, taking the first bite like the birthday person is supposed to, smiling so widely that his blue eyes sparkle. He smells like pure-joy.

Jason takes a bite of the cake and gets chocolate frosting all over his lips. He licks it off, savoring the flavor. It’s either yummier than he remembers or the Drakes have better quality cake than Jason has ever eaten in his life. Honestly, it’s probably a bit of both.

“Hey, Jason?” Tim asks a few minutes later.

Jason uses his fork to get the remnants of crumbs and icing off the bottom of the cake tray and pops it in his mouth. “Hmm?”

“I want you to be happy here with me. I want to be a good Alpha brother to you,” Tim says, nervousness pouring off of him. “So, I’ll get whatever you want, anything that will make you happy. What can I provide for you?”

Jason sets his fork down, his hand shaking.

If someone asked him that earlier today — no one would, of course; he didn’t have anyone to ask him — his answer would have been simple: safety. 

Jason has been operating on a “needs only” basis since his mother’s death. When he runs errands or boosts and sells tires or couriers stuff, he is strict with himself about using the cash he gets paid with only on essentials. Food, clothes from thrift stores when necessary, and things along those lines.

It has been a very long time since what Jason  wants  has been relevant at all.

Wants are frivolous things. Wants are out of his reach. Wants are for people who don’t have to worry about when their next meal will be.

But Jason is a Drake now. He’s a Drake … and that opens up an entire world where  wants  are something that Jason can have.

“I  am  happy, Tim,” Jason says, filling the kitchen with satisfied-contentedness.

He’s not alone anymore. He has a safe place to sleep now. There’s more than enough food to eat in the Manor. He got to have a bubble bath and he’s wearing clean clothes that aren’t patched and don’t have holes or stains. He has three strong pack bonds rooted in his chest and a baby brother sitting beside him in a pack den that he belongs in. 

What else could he possibly want?

“I don’t nee—”

Tim’s posture slumps slightly and Jason feels his breath catch. Right. Alphas need to provide for their pack, especially any Omegas, to stay emotionally healthy. If Jason doesn’t think of something, it could hurt Tim.

Memories of Tim latching onto his wrist and guiding him around the Manor surface at the forefront of Jason’s mind. They’re accompanied by memories of the warm hugs he’s shared with his new brother.

In the end, it’s not difficult at all to say something that Jason wants that Tim can promptly provide.

“I know it’s your birthday, but can we call it an early night?” Jason asks, staring right into his baby brother’s blue eyes. “It’s been a long day. I’m tired. I want to curl up in a nest with my  pack”  — Jason’s breath hitches on the word — “and know that I’m not alone.”

“Yes!” Tim says, his scent begging please-please-please.

Tim leaves the glasses, forks, and cake tray on the table, much to Jason’s surprise. The pup has been meticulous so far; then again, it’s probably been months since Tim was properly snuggled given Janet’s and Jack’s work schedules. And then Tim leads Jason back up to the suite they’re going to share for now.

They take turns using the bathroom and then Tim opens a drawer of the vanity and says, “I have a very serious question for you, Jason.” He pulls two toothbrushes that are still in the packaging out of the drawer and asks, “Batman or Robin?”

“Robin,  obviously,”  Jason says as he accepts the yellow and red toothbrush with green bristles. 

“You really are perfect,” Tim whispers.

Jason’s reflection blushes brightly.

They brush their teeth side by side. Jason makes goofy faces at Tim around his new toothbrush. Tim laughs and spits toothpaste all over the mirror, which makes Jason laugh and spit toothpaste on the mirror as well.

“Stop it!”

“Okay,” Jason mumbles around the toothbrush.

He watches Tim in the mirror and feels so grateful to the pup for wanting a brother so desperately that Janet Drake essentially went pup-shopping in the Bowery. 

“Bedtime!” Tim says with a wide grin. 

Jason stares, awed-delight filling the air when he sees Tim’s nest for the first time. It’s a large, round bed with raised sides. It’s littered with pillows and blankets that look luxurious and feel soft when Jason strokes them.

But there’s an underlying scent of sad-loneliness in the room that hurts Jason’s heart. He’s going to get rid of it. He’s going to smother that scent into non-existence. Neither he nor Tim ever has to be alone again, not unless they want to be. 

They’re brothers. They’re a pack family. They’re together.

Tim takes Jason’s wrist and tugs lightly while saying, “You are welcome in my nest, Jason.”

Jason starts purring at the invitation and can’t stop. He’s still purring when he and Tim cuddle together and Tim pulls a soft blanket over the both of them. He rubs the scent gland under his chin against Tim’s hair, marking him as my-baby-brother-forever.

My-precious-Omega-brother spills off of Tim in return.

By the time they’re done scenting each other and the nest, it smells like safe-loved-pack-brother-home. 

This is not how Jason expected his day to go. He expected to crawl back into his nest woven from newspaper and blanket scraps to wallow in the stench of misery-tired-alone. But that’s not what happened. All because the pup sniffling against Jason’s shoulder has an Alpha-mother — now Jason’s Alpha-mother as well! — who loves  fiercely.

It’s Tim’s birthday, yet Jason feels like it’s his own wish that came true.