Chapter Text
Deep sleep was not something Dick was used to. The way it weighed on him like gravity — a heavy, inescapable darkness that felt more like drowning than real rest.
It made everything hazy, the clink of dishes and the white noise of running water. The muffled conversation happening around him, voices too distant for his sleep addled brain to try and identify. The pop music playing from a tinny radio speaker, and someone singing along terribly off key.
He felt so small. Like a child buried deep in his parents nest. For a moment, Dick was convinced it had all been some elaborate dream. Losing his parents, his life with Bruce in the aftermath, his time as a vigilante. Convinced that when he opened his eyes, he’d be greeted by the cozy, familiar interior of the Flying Grayson’s trailer at Haly’s Circus.
Dick shifted, nuzzling his face into the pillow beneath him and whining at how sluggish his movements felt.
The singing stopped abruptly, taking all the warmth in Dick’s chest with it.
“Tati?” Dick called, voice hoarse and deeper than any child’s should be — forcibly grounding him back in the present.
“Hey love,” Wally’s voice soothed the confusion in the back of Dick’s mind like a balm, “how’re you feeling?”
Dick whined again, prying his eyes open to look at his Alpha. He was crouched beside the futon where Dick was currently curled up. Wally smiled, crooning wordlessly as he cupped Dick’s face, stroking the pad of his thumb over the Omega’s cheek.
“Sit up for me, baby.” Wally instructed softly, patiently helping Dick upright before fitting a cool glass of water into the Omega’s hand. Dick hummed, taking a sip, using that as an excuse not to answer Wally’s question.
The truth was Dick felt like he’d met the business end of an 18-wheeler. His body ached, his skin was tacky with sweat, and despite clearly having slept for many, many hours, he wanted nothing more than to curl back up — this time with a pillow in the shape of his boyfriend.
Dick breathed in, scrunching his nose when he got a lungful of sour Alpha worry.
“You smell… upset.” Dick said, lowering the glass to his lap.
“Of course you’re worried about me.” Wally said, punctuating the sentence with an amused chuff. “I’m fine sweetheart, promise.” He smiled, but it seemed strained. “What do you remember?”
Dick opened his mouth to respond, then shook his head. “I–” Dick started, licking his dry lips. “We… shared a cycle,” Wally nodded, “uh…” Dick said unhelpfully, scratching at his arm and the band-aid he had no recollection of putting there. He twisted his lips.
“You overheated,” Wally said gently, pressing the back of his hand to Dick’s forehead. Déjà vu hit Dick like a brick wall, distinctly aware they’d already had this conversation at least once. “Or you were, anyway. Seems like your fever finally broke.”
Dick furrowed his brow as Wally pulled his hand away. That would explain the swampy, perspiration marinated way his skin felt. And how the darkness behind his eyes called to him every time he blinked.
“The doctor said there’s some test results they want to talk to you about,” Wally said, unaware of the way one single word made Dick’s stomach sink like a stone, “we’ve got a follow up scheduled for next week.”
“Doctor?” Dick echoed numbly, lowering his glass to his lap with one hand and picking at the edge of the band-aid in the crook of his arm with the other. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep the panic clawing at his throat in check. He… he didn’t want Leslie near him. Not now, not ever.
She might have been the only doctor in Gotham he could trust with his secret identity — but he couldn’t trust her. No. Not anymore. Not after she’d…
She’d prescribed him mifepristone.
“My doctor,” Wally clarified before the whine building in Dick’s chest could escape, “from S.T.A.R., Dr. Mack.” The relief was instant, and Dick’s body sagged under the weight of it.
“Thank you.” Dick whispered, closing his eyes
“‘Course, love.” The Alpha hummed, “I’ve got you.” He gingerly took the glass from Dick’s hands before the Omega could force his eyes back open. There was confusion in Wally’s scent, but he didn’t push it any further. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?"
Which was how Dick found himself in the bath once again, despite his insistence on taking a shower instead.
“Baby,” Wally had crooned when Dick tried, stubbornly, to argue, “you can barely stand, let alone walk without keeling over.” Even before Wally gave him that soft smile, Dick knew caving to his Alpha’s request was inevitable.
He felt cleaner now, dried off and dressed in Wally’s clothes, the scent of pleased Alpha blanketing the bedroom — but the water couldn’t wash away the bone deep exhaustion that still clung to him.
Wally offered Dick his hand, and the Omega took it, standing up from the pile of his Alpha’s clothes he’d been sitting in, and willing his legs not to shake. Wally’s arm wound its way around Dick’s waist without a second thought, supporting him by their position alone instead of bearing the brunt of Dick’s weight.
Dick hummed, hoping his scent showed how much he appreciated the Alpha. He peered through the door to Wally’s room, eyes landing on the futon in the living room, and the valiant attempt Wally had made at building a nest for his Omega.
The gesture was incredibly sweet. The thought of Wally – stressed and desperately looking for any way to comfort his Omega – struggling to cobble together something that resembled a nest.
The end product though… it left something to be desired.
“Go on,” Wally snorted, breath ghosting against Dick’s cheek, “fix it. I know you want to.” His scent was tinged with fondness, “you’ve only complained about it the last three times you’ve woken up.”
Dick eyed Wally, looking for body language that contradicted the notes of his scent and not finding any.
“It’s not…” Dick paused, looking at the ramshackle collection of blankets, pillows, and his Alpha’s clothes, “It’s not that bad.”
Wally was a simple Alpha — straightforward where Dick had only ever been roundabout. He didn’t obfuscate, didn’t bury his motives behind words. Something about Dick doing enough hiding for the both of them, at least one of them had to say what they meant, but…
“You’re not gonna hurt my feelings, sweetheart.” Wally promised, like he knew exactly what Dick was thinking. “I did my best but,” he shrugged, “I’m no Omega.” The Alpha smiled, “fix it up,” he reiterated, “I’ll whip up something for lunch.”
Dick opened his mouth to protest when his stomach (the traitor) grumbled loudly in the silence. Wally gave Dick a smirk and an arched brow – taunting him – the amusement in his scent a wordless ‘what were you about to say?’
“Go,” Dick huffed, “I think I can walk the five feet from here to the futon unaccompanied.” He said, turning back to the nest — putting them at a draw.
Wally squeezed Dick’s waist once, then released him before making his way to the kitchen, but Dick could feel how the Alpha’s attention never fully left him.
Dick sighed, then padded over to the futon — feeling prouder of his lack of stumbling than he had any right to.
He knelt down, pawing through the soon-to-be disassembled pile of fabric that fancied itself a nest. Most of the materials were adequate, but a handful of them were tossed toward Wally’s bedroom door without hesitation.
Nesting was… complicated. A melding of instinct and technical skill. The physicality of it could be learned. The way things needed to be placed, layered, and woven together. How to bring certain unruly materials to heel when it seemed like all the fabric wanted to do was fight back.
That – for all intents and purposes – was the easy part of nesting. Instinct was where Wally would never find his footing.
Every Omega’s nest was different — unique. Like a fingerprint. An amalgam of learned skills, developed habits, and innate preferences that culminated into an embodiment of comfort.
Safety made physical through the act of building it with your own two hands.
Dick grew up in the lap of luxury. That’s what the tabloids said, puff pieces or gossip columns next to pictures of him snagged by paparazzo’s, or official red-carpet coverage. Sure, he had his tragic past – the death of his parents and his ensuing stint in juvenile detention – but look at him now!
The eldest son of Gotham’s favorite philanthropist, a hoard of overly dedicated online fans, and the face of an angel — what more could he possibly need?
But the rumor mill didn’t have all the facts. They never did.
The Manor might have been beautiful – grand in that sort of overbearing, untouchable kind of way – but it was never a place that Dick viewed as comfortable. Not comfort the way Dick had known it.
Comfort meant warmth. Meant the whole Haly’s troupe crowded around a fire, talking in loud animated voices as the sun set over whatever fairground the circus got to call home till they had to get back on the road.
Comfort was his parents – humming, singing, dancing – in their too small for three people trailer. It was nestling between them as all three Omega curled up in their colorful nest. It was home cooked meals, always slightly too salty, or bitter, or sweet for his pup tastebuds, but now that he was grown, all he craved was his Tati’s budincǎ de dovlecei, or his mami’s placinta cu mere
His family might not have had much — but they had love in spades.
For Bruce though, comfort came in solitude. In the trickle of water beneath the cave’s main platform, the chitter of bats overhead, and the hum of the Bat-Computer as he poured over case files. It was a game of chess in the drawing room, or a book in his study — the unique musk of a well-cared-for first edition.
Diametrically opposed is how Dick would describe them.
Which wasn’t to say that Bruce hadn’t tried. When Dick first came to the manor, both Bruce and Alfred had made attempts to help Dick feel comfortable in his new home, but neither Beta could quite wrap their heads around how to raise an Omega… Especially when Dick’s needs came into direct conflict with what they had always known.
When Dick’s nesting instincts clashed with Alfred’s need to have every article of clothing neatly folded and in its proper place. When Dick’s chirps or whines echoed through the Manors extravagant halls, disrupting Bruce’s silence.
Dick, and all the way’s he was unapologetically Omega, because he’d grown up never having to second guess that side of himself. Where Bruce and Alfred had never had the way they lived alongside each other questioned.
It didn’t take him long to realize that the comforts of his childhood were a thing of the past — that his life at the manor would be different, colder, despite the privilege of wealth he’d fallen into.
He learned to cope. Learned how to live without the warmth he’d been born into. How to push his instincts down till they were barely a whisper in the back of his mind. Till he was barely Omega at all.
He taught himself how to survive.
Until Wally. Until that restless Alpha and his dopey smile reminded Dick what it felt like to breathe deeply. Brought light back into his life when he had resigned himself to be a creature of the dark. Wally, who proved to be the closest thing to real comfort Dick could call his in years, and…
How could he not fall in love?
The nest felt better now, blankets and clothes braided together just right with Dick sitting at the center
He did still feel like there was something missing. His hind brain wanted notes of Tim’s scent, and Selina’s, and traitorously, Bruce and Alfred’s also mixed into the medley of he and Wally’s pheromones. But it was more than enough to satiate the animal of instinct in his chest for the time being.
The TV was still on, 90’s sitcom traded for some overwrought medical drama that Dick was sure Tim would love. The sound of Wally in the kitchen still faintly audible above the din.
Dick yawned, nuzzling his face into the reconstructed nest. Sleep wasn’t the goal, he just… wanted to close his eyes for a minute. To get a break from the bright Central City sun streaming through the apartment windows. But as he sunk deeper into the shroud of Wally’s scent, consciousness slipped from his grasp anyway.
He didn’t know how long he slept for — only that he woke up to the futon shifting as Wally perched at the nests edge.
“Feel like eating?” The Alpha asked, nodding toward the tray of avocado toast and assorted sliced fruits currently set on the coffee table.
Dick hummed, his stomach punctuating the sound with an agreement of its own. Wally gave the Omega a knowing smirk, and Dick just rolled his eyes playfully. He didn’t bother answering verbally, just made grabby hands in the direction of both the food and his Alpha.
Wally grabbed the tray, setting it over Dick’s lap as he sat upright, then the Alpha got up, starting to make his way back to the kitchen.
Dick trilled before he could get more than a few steps away, tilting his head with a wordless question.
“Gimme a sec, sweetheart,” Wally assured him, “just let me grab the tea, okay?” Dick hummed, picking at the pile of strawberries, blueberries and bananas in front of him.
Wally padded into the kitchen and came back with two steaming mugs of tea — mellow, herbal smelling aroma blending well with the mix of he and Dick’s scent as he placed them both carefully on the try over Dick’s lap
Wally still hesitated at the edge of the nest, giving Dick a fleeting, uncertain look. The Omega keened softly, and it’s like the sound washed away any of the Alpha’s residual hesitation as he finally climbed into the nest beside Dick.
They folded into each other, Dick taking his place pressed against Wally’s side as the Alpha draped an arm over Dick’s shoulder, Wally rubbed his jaw against the top of the Omega’s head, scenting him without a second thought.
They ate mostly in silence, the only sound coming from the TV and the overly British narrator of space documentary Wally put on in place of the honestly tiring medical drama.
Dick ate, not till he was full, but until his body’s clamoring for sleep outweighed its hunger. Wally sighed when he realized that Dick was done picking at the food, then got up to bring the tray back into the kitchen, only hesitating a nanosecond at Dick’s instinctive whine.
He was sitting beside Dick again in a blink, the residual buzz of Speedforce raising the hair on Dick’s arms as he settled back against his Alpha.
It wasn’t long before Wally was readjusting them both, positioning himself so Dick could lay on top of him. The Alpha’s hands rubbed along his back in slow comforting strokes till everything faded back into the dark of sleep, this time paired with the comfort of a summer shower, and Wally’s steady rumble.
It was late when Dick woke up again — space documentary traded for the image of sharks silhouetted against the brilliant blue of sunlight streaming through the open ocean, casting the room in an azure haze.
Behind Dick, Wally let out a quiet snore. His arms were still wrapped around Dick, possessive but not overly-tight. One rested just below Dick’s navel, palm pressed flat against the Omega’s stomach. This wasn’t a new position for Dick to wake up in — Wally’s hindbrain making obvious everything Wally always struggled to say out loud (outside of sex anyway).
Normally, the subconscious positioning of their bodies by his Alpha just made Dick roll his eyes, fond, but finding the whole thing no less ridiculous for it. Now though…
All Dick could think of was what Bruce, Leslie and Alfred had robbed them of.
Pressure built behind Dick’s eyes, and he pressed the heels of his palms against them like that could keep the tears from falling. What point was there in falling apart over all of this now? Mourning the loss of something he knew he wouldn’t have been ready for? Grieving the life he and Wally never got to have?
They had each other now. That’s what mattered. Not hypotheticals, and unobtainable what-if’s
Dick rolled over delicately, trying not to dislodge Wally, or wake him as Dick turned to face him. When the Alpha didn’t stir Dick pressed his face into Wally’s shoulder, breathing in a heavy dose of his scent — taking comfort in the fact that Wally was here, right beside him. Dick wasn’t alone anymore.
Dick sniffled, and Wally shifted, scent turning slightly sour with worry.
“Dick?” He murmured, and Dick shook his head, pressing his face closer to Wally.
“Nightmare,” Dick mumbled into his Alpha’s skin, hoping Wally was too tired to push any further.
“‘m here,” Wally rumbled, tightening his hold on Dick.
Dick let out a quiet sigh, eyes drifting closed again — the warmth of Wally’s body, the pressure of his arms, and the steady vibration of his rumble numbing the ache of grief in Dick’s chest.
“I know,” Dick replied, drifting back into dreamless sleep.