Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You’re psychotic, Drake.”

“You asked for my help and said you believed me-“

“I said your theory had merit,” Damian’s deep, booming voice was enough to make Dick shift uncomfortably in his seat. “I will give no such credit to this ludicrous plan of yours. If Father is alive, this plan is the most ridiculous way to go about saving him.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed. His hands were against the center console of the Batconsole, jaw working against his visible anger. He didn’t have his Red Hood helmet on, just a long black and red jacket that nearly reached the floor. “Well if you’re got any ideas Nightwing, go on. I’m all ears.” He used Damian’s hero name like it was an insult. 

Damian just stared at Tim, looking him up and down. The two of them had more history than Dick would ever understand. When they glared at each other, there were endless layers of hurt and complicated love. 

“If you weren’t impossible to work with, I might,” Damian finally said, voice cold as ice.

Tim tilted his head back and barked out a haughty laugh. “Rich, coming from you. And here I actually believed people when they told me my death softened you.” He shook his head, long bangs falling over his face. “You’re the same asshole you always were.”

Damian’s back stiffened. “This is my father we’re discussing.” He took a slow, steadying breath, eyes briefly closing before opening with some sort of attempt at vulnerability. “If I allow myself to hope and you’re wrong, I have the most to lose.”

The look Tim leveled at Damian was positively deadly. Tim had always made Dick just a little too uncomfortable. Damian didn’t even allow Dick to directly engage with Tim on patrol. If Dick saw the infamous Red Hood, he had to call Damian and keep a distance.

This was the first real time Dick had been up close and personal around Tim. The real Tim, anyway. Not the pictures, the suit and bo staff in the case, the larger than life stories about a brilliant Robin was was killed too soon. The real Tim didn’t have the kindness he had in the stories. He had scarred hands, forearms corded with muscle, and a flash of white in his hair that looked like a warning sign. 

With Tim’s sleeves pushed up and his gloves pulled off, Dick couldn’t seem to stop staring at his hands and arms and how tense the muscles were. He chalked his interest up to never being around Tim before and simply watching the way he moved, the way Damian taught him to study an enemy.

Tim didn’t feel like an enemy, up this close. He was something dangerous and feral and had barely even looked at Dick, but Dick didn’t feel fear when he looked at Tim. He wasn’t really sure what he felt.

“Bruce was my father too,” Tim snapped, fingers flexing. Dick’s breath caught in his throat and immediately, Tim noticed it.

He looked at Dick for a split second and discomfort formed a second skin over Dick, prickly and too warm. Dick did his best not to squirm until Tim lost interest and looked back at Damian.

“Your parents didn’t die until long after you did,” Damian shot back. “You only had to rely on Father for your training.”

The look of pain on Tim’s face was indescribable. He let go of the console and took a few stumbling steps backward, looking Damian up and down. “Way to remind me I never got to say goodbye to them.”

Damian looked like he was drowning with regret, all the fire from his eyes dying. “I didn’t- that was… callous. I shouldn’t have said that.” It was rare for anyone to get an apology out of Damian, and even if that hardly counted as one, it was enough of an admission of guilt to startle both Dick and Tim. “Father… loved you like a second son. You know that.”

For a moment, Dick actually hoped they would make up. He didn’t like the yelling from Damian and Tim, the way the Batcave always seemed to be haunted by the ghost of their hate for each other. Dick could even imagine Tim being a proper member of the family, how they would really work together to bring Bruce back-

“Right. Loved me so much he replaced me with the first scrappy kid he found on the street,” Tim said, snapping the illusion of buried hatchets. “Great job following in those footsteps, by the way.” He glanced at Dick again.

Dick shifted his hips uncomfortably in his chair and wrapped his arms around his middle protectively. Tim’s gaze carried the weight of a thousand tons and Dick was almost worried he was going to shatter. Usually, he had no problem giving snappy comebacks and fighting back with his words, much to Damian’s chagrin, but none of those words came to his mind.

If anything, Tim’s steely eyes made Dick go blank.

“Do not bring Richard into this,” Damian snarled. He stepped forward, protectively standing in front of Dick. “Robin is my mantle. Jason had learned all he could as Robin and it was time for him to grow beyond it. He understood my decision.”

Tim scoffed and spread his arms around the Batcave, making a show of looking around. “Is that so? Why isn’t he here, then?”

“Because you are,” Damian spoke through grit teeth. “I don’t trust you around him after you’ve tried to kill him multiple times-“

“Hey,” Tim cut Damian off with a finger in his face. “If I wanted that kid dead, he’d be dead. I was testing him. You think I want to see another kid die in the Robin suit?” He looked briefly at Dick again. “Even your pet project you won’t let me near. As long as he’s Robin, I’ll do everything I can to make sure he doesn’t die. Who do you think took care of Tony Zucco?”

“You killed Tony Zucco?” Dick blurted out, almost falling out of his chair. It was his first time speaking during the whole conversation and it made Damian turn and frown at him. He’d only been allowed to sit in on Tim’s visit if he promised not to draw attention to himself. Damian didn’t want Dick in Tim’s crosshairs.

After Tony Zucco fell off the grid, Damian and Bruce had promised Dick that they would find him and bring him to justice. Then Bruce died barely a month into Dick knowing him and they had more pressing matters to deal with.

Tim arched an eyebrow and didn’t say anything.

“Did you?” Damian demanded, voice low. Damian had given Dick long, quiet lectures about how long it’d taken him to unlearn lethal justice and how that wasn’t the way. No matter how badly Dick wanted his parents’ murderer dead, that wasn’t a road they could allow themselves to go down, as heroes.

Dick had honestly absorbed and agreed with most of Damian’s lessons. He’d listened patiently to the stories Damian told about his childhood, and the blood on his hands he had to live with and how Dick never deserved that. He was right. Killing didn’t solve anything. That was part of Dick’s apprehension toward Tim, how easily he killed people nowadays.

But knowing he’d killed Tony Zucco -to protect Dick, no less- made Dick’s heart pound. His skin was buzzing.

“Well I gave him a choice.” Tim shrugged without a hint of remorse. “Turn himself in with all the evidence I compiled and accept nothing less than a life sentence, or take the coward’s way out and try to run.” A small smile played on his lips. “He chose cowardice. He didn’t get five feet away from me before I pulled the trigger.”

The buzzing got more intense and it took everything Dick had to not push Damian away from him so he could go to Tim. For what, he wasn’t quite sure, but his body was screaming for it.

“Father wouldn’t have wanted that.” Damian just shook his head. “Have you forgotten everything he taught you? About the difference between justice and dictatorship? About our duty to Gotham-“

“Tell you what,” Tim cut him off again. “You actually help me find him, and he can give me the lecture himself. Because you’re fucking shit at parroting words you don’t even believe.”

“What are you implying?”

Tim laughed. “You’ve been itching to take someone’s head off this whole time. The only reason you can’t bring yourself to do it is because you won’t stain Bruce’s precious legacy.” 

“You have no idea what you’re-“

“Don’t worry,” Tim continued, putting a hand on his hip. “I’ve stained it plenty for both of us. Tony Zucco, corrupt politicians, dirty cops, mob bosses, the whole fucking lot handled the way Bruce was too afraid of himself to do.”

Damian’s fists were shaking at his side. “You might be twisted beyond repair, but I’m not. I understand Father and his morals more than you ever did.”

“That so?” Tim’s head tilted to the side. “That why you had to be dragged off of Joker because you were trying so hard to kill him with your bare hands after he killed me?”

A full bodied flinch went through Damian. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice was shaking in an uncharacteristic way.

Tim actually looked hurt. His face fell and he stared at Damian before shaking his head and looking away. “Fucking pity, then. Because hearing about that story I…” Tim trailed off for a moment. “I thought for a second, maybe someone actually cared about me enough to avenge me.”

He turned on his heel and started to walk out of the Batcave. Damian called after him but it didn’t stop Tim. They both just watched his figure vanish into the shadows.

The silence in Tim’s absence was deafening. Dick wanted to reach a hand out, comfort Damian with something, anything. But the words didn’t come. All he could do was stare at the spot where Tim stood. 

Damian let out a frustrated sigh and threw up his hands, swearing in Arabic. “I’m going for a walk to clear my mind. I need to think about…” he looked at the computer scene, that still had Bruce’s image pulled up with coordinates. “I need to think.”

“Do you want company?” Dick offered, getting to his feet. He reached out, but Damian didn’t see his hand and was already walking away.

“No.” Damian shook his head. He turned to Dick and his gaze softened. “You should rest, Richard. Don’t worry about me.”

“But patrol-“

“I’ll go alone,” Damian insisted, still using the softer tone he only used around Dick. Dick knew exactly how much Damian struggled with gentleness, so he always caved to it. “If I need backup, I’ll ask Jason. You deserve a day off.”

Dick didn’t agree, but he nodded anyway. “Okay. Love you, Damian.”

Damian gave him a small, sad smile. He didn’t say anything back, but he ruffled Dick’s hair before walking toward to stairs back up to the manor, in the opposite direction Tim went.

Left alone, Dick stood in the Batcave, looking around. He settled for taking a seat at the computer and pulling up Tony Zucco’s active case file.

He marked the case complete and Tony Zucco deceased then closed the file. 

Dick wanted to listen to Damian. But as soon as he was on his feet, his body had other plans. He was walking toward his small motorcycle, the one he’d had to beg Damian for in the first place. 

He wasn’t even sure where autopilot was taking him until he pulled out his phone and connected it to the Batcomputer, finding the coordinates to the tracker Damian put on Tim.

According to Damian, Tim probably knew the tracker was there. He didn’t remove it anyway, which seemed to be giving Damian a small piece of hope that there was some form of an olive branch extended between the two. Not that he would ever voice it, but Dick saw it in Damian’s eyes every time he checked the location of the tracker and saw it was still active.

Now, Dick followed that little red dot halfway across Gotham until it came to a stop at an innocuous warehouse in Tricorner Island.

He didn’t know what he was doing. His instincts screamed at him how bad of an idea this was. He still had time to turn back and go back to Damian. The buzzing under his skin was getting worse though, so violent he swore he could hear it, blood rushing in his ears. Dick couldn’t get his heart to slow down no matter how hard he tried.

At the very least, he had enough of his wits about him to find the weak point of the warehouse, a window near the roof. He grappled toward it and slipped inside, careful to look for any sort of tripwire or security system.

There was none. Either Tim was negligent, or he was he was playing some sort of reverse psychology game, daring anyone to come find him and attack him at his home base.

Of what Dick knew about Tim Drake, he assumed the latter.

Perched in the rafters, Dick watched Tim, chewing the inside of his cheek. 

Tim was stripping pieces of his suit, leaving them on the floor as he walked across the warehouse, muttering to himself. Too quiet for Dick to hear.

When Tim cracked his neck with his hands and stretched out his back, Dick started creeping closer to him. Climbing down the rafters and dropping onto a support structure. Tim kept the warehouse clean and practically domestic, it was even heated. It had running water, from the looks of the sink and shower in the corner. And plenty of electricity powering appliances. 

Not the mention the entire wall covered in an assortment of weapons.

Dick landed as softly on the ground as he could.

Not softly enough.

Tim didn’t even turn to face him. He just pulled a gun off his belt and pointed it in Dick’s direction, cocking it.

Dick jumped and swore.

Tim turned to face him, frowning. “Oh. I thought you were Damian.” He actually seemed disappointed when he said it.

“How did you know I was there?” Dick wanted to kick himself for the question.

Tim pointedly looked at the window Dick crawled through. “I’ve known the whole time, kid.” He lowered the gun and Dick sighed in relief. “Look, if this is about the Zucco thing-“

“It’s not,” Dick insisted, fixing his expression into a scowl.

Tim narrowed his eyes like he didn’t quite believe Dick. “Good. Because that wasn’t a personal thing. I would’ve killed him for that whether Damian adopted you or not.”

Somehow, that had the exact opposite effect on Dick he was pretty sure it was supposed to have. Dick tried not to squirm in place.

“So?” Tim proded, giving Dick a pointed look. “Why are you here then?”

Well. Crap.

Dick should’ve gone with using Tony Zucco as an excuse, but he wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t thinking about any of this, and what shred of common sense he had left was agreeing with Tim, demanding to know why on earth Dick felt like going and confronting the Red Hood, alone. Who already had a history of beating the shit out of Robins. Even though Dick hadn’t been taken in yet when it happened, he’d read the medical file and saw just how many of Jason’s bones Tim broke.

Just to ‘test him’, in his own words.

Whatever security Dick had that Tim wouldn’t kill him was pretty shaken by the knowledge he’d have no qualms about fighting Dick, and beating him.

It was hard to think about that threat though, when all Dick could seem to focus on were the soft features of Tim’s face. For someone so deadly, up close, Dick could see the gentleness of his features. A soft jawline, high cheekbones, and eyes that looked like they could be so gentle, if they wanted to be.

“I don’t know,” Dick finally admitted, his voice far too high. 

Tim sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting Dick openly stare at his hands again. “Go home, kid. I’m not looking for a fight and you’re not going to goad me into one just to protect Damian’s honor or something.”

“If I was looking for a fight I would’ve tried to punch you already,” Dick snapped, finally finding some semblance of himself in the snarky attitude. “I’m not here about Damian.” Damian could fight his own battles. Not to mention, Dick really didn’t want to see just how pissed Damian would get about Dick putting himself in danger to try to protect him.

“I don’t want a sidekick either,” Tim said, putting a hand on his hip. “And even if I did, I would pick Todd over you any day of the week. I can respect the edge that kid has. You’re… not even wearing pants.” He frowned at Dick’s Robin suit. “Why would you get rid of the pants?”

Dick looked down at his tights and back up at Tim. “I’m an acrobat. It’s easier to move with less fabric,” he huffed. Hot jealousy was running through him at Tim openly preferring Jason to him, pulling an angry noise out of his throat. Jason didn’t even like Tim. 

Jason didn’t deserve Tim.

Dick blinked. He tried to clear his head of wherever that thought came from.

Suddenly, Tim got a strange look on his face.

“I didn’t know you were an omega,” Tim said slowly, eyebrows knitting together.

“I’m not. I haven’t presented.” Dick didn’t like having it rubbed in his face that he was a late bloomer. Sixteen and he still hadn’t presented yet. He was just waiting to present as a beta like Damian, Bruce, and Jason and be over with it. 

Tim’s face went through a wave of emotions Dick didn’t understand.

Without warning, Tim grabbed a handful of Dick’s hair and pulled his head to the side. He pressed his face into the exposed crook of Dick’s neck and breathed in, downright smelling him.

It took Dick a second to realize the whimpering noise was coming from him.

His knees were weak and the sudden pain of his hair being pulled made his blood feel like honey. Thick and sweet in his veins, slowing his thoughts down. He was hyper-aware of Tim’s presence, how close he was to Dick’s exposed neck, the way Tim smelled-

Tim pulled away and let go of Dick’s hair. Dick wanted to follow the touch but he was too stunned to move.

“Damnit.” Tim patted his pockets, looking for something. “You’re presenting.”

“What?” Dick tried to form a coherent thought. It wasn’t working.

Tim pulled his phone out of a pocket. “You’re going into your first heat. I need to call Damian so he can-“

Before he really knew what he was doing, Dick had a throwing star in his hand and he sent it straight into the back of Tim’s hand, making him reflectively drop his phone.

“Don’t call him,” Dick insisted. The thought was mortifying. Damian was already stiff with feelings and particularly stiff whenever he had to talk about ruts or heats. Dick couldn’t imagine how poorly he’d handle Dick in heat.

Dick was in heat. 

When Tim said it, it made sense. The way his skin wouldn’t stop buzzing, why his body was too hot. How he felt like he had an itch he didn’t know how to scratch.

“Kid, I am not dealing with this.” Tim took a large step back. He pulled the throwing star out of his hand with his teeth and Dick was pretty sure that was the hottest thing he’d ever witness. Tim spat the throwing star out. “Christ, no wonder you followed me.”

“What?”

Tim looked constipated. “I’m an alpha. It was an instincts thing. You probably didn’t even notice.” He bent over and picked up his phone. “Fuck me. Bad timing to mention I killed someone who hurt you, that didn’t do your hormones any favors,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

Dick understood what Tim meant, even as part of him was trying to fight it and insist he had a grounded, logical reason to be here. But the longer he thought about it, the more his brain seemed to be turning to mush.

And heat seemed to be pooling in between his legs.

“Please,” Dick whined. “Do you really think Damian is going to know what to do?”

Tim looked at his phone, then back at Dick. “Fair. He acts like he doesn’t even know what sex is. I’m still not dealing with an omega’s first heat.”He rubbed his face. “Especially one not wearing pants. God.” He went back to his phone.

“Who are you calling?” Dick asked, frowning and trying to look at the phone screen.

“Alfred.”

“That’s worse!” Dick grabbed Tim’s arm, going for a less violent approach. The idea of Alfred seeing Dick like this, squirmy and too hot for his own skin, filled him with mortification. “Please don’t call anyone.”

Tim pried Dick’s arm off of him, careful to touch Dick as little as possible. “What do you suggest I do then?”

“Let me wait it out here?” Dick practically pleaded. He peeled his domino mask off so he could better look at Tim. He kept shifting his weight from foot to foot as the discomfort settled more and more. He wanted to rip all his clothes off and sit under a cold shower. “I don’t want to leave.”

“That’s the hormones talking,” Tim was so calm and level-headed compared to Dick’s desperation. He was practically mesmerizing. “First heats can least days. I am not explaining this to Damian. He’s going to think I kidnapped you.”

“I’ll try to sleep it off,” Dick offered, desperate for any argument that would end in him not leaving Tim’s safehouse. Everything in him needed to be close to Tim and his only reasoning for why was what Tim had already said. Needy hormones and too many confusing urges swirling through him at once. “I won’t bother you, Damian thinks I just went to bed.”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Please,” Dick begged. He tried to think about how heats could affect alphas. Tim seemed entirely unbothered aside from a general annoyance that he always seemed to have. But that didn’t mean Dick couldn’t try. He grabbed Tim’s arm again, this time aiming for his wrist. Dick made a point to rub his thumb against the scent gland on Tim’s inner wrist. “I don’t want to leave.”

Tim’s entire body jolted and he hissed. He wrenched his arm free from Dick, but the damage had already been done. For just a moment, his pupils dilated and his breath caught in his throat staring at Dick. He regained his composure, absently rubbing his wrist.

“You’re going to lose any chance you have if you act like that,” Tim said coldly, managing to keep his voice mostly even.

“I’m sorry,” Dick wasn’t one bit sorry. The animal part of him wanted to do it again. Wanted to press his face into Dick’s scent gland instead of just his stroking it. “I’ll behave.”

“I doubt that.” Tim scowled at him. “But I’m pretty sure the only way I could get you to leave is if I knocked you unconscious, and I’m really not explaining that one to Damian.”

Dick’s entire body perked up at the sight of Tim relenting.

“And an alpha’s scent can… help a heat along.” Tim made a face at the crass nature of his statement. “Just take my bed and don’t bother me. Actually try to sleep.”

“Thank you,” Dick blurted out. Before Tim could change his mind, Dick bolted toward the bed that was tucked away in the furthest corner of the warehouse.

Tim’s bed was so nice it contrasted the rest of the bare warehouse. Dick had to remind himself that Tim grew up a rich kid, so of course he’d put a queen-sized bed with satin bedsheets and a thick comforter with half a dozen pillows in his base. Something that could remind him of a home he couldn’t return to.

Dick tugged off his suit. He wore an undershirt and underwear that gave him no issue with stripping all the layers of kevlar and nomex. He was already sweating too much and sighed in relief at letting his skin breathe.

He crawled into the bed and was surrounded by Tim’s scent.

Dick started to build a nest without thinking about it. He piled the pillows around himself strategically, like he was building a fort. He was practically drowning in pillows by the time he was pleased and curled up inside them, fingers buried into Tim’s blanket. His body wasn’t quite hot enough that he couldn’t use the blanket so he swaddled himself in it.

Tim’s scent burrowed itself into Dick’s skin. Warm and thick, reminding Dick of fresh dirt and burning flesh, but with a sweetness to it, similar to rotting fruit. It should’ve been repulsive. He couldn’t help but wonder if dying had tainted Tim’s scent in a way. But Dick wanted to bury himself in it until it was all people smelled on him. The more grotesque notes of Tim’s musk were a plus, if anything. It’d mean if people smelled Tim on Dick, they’d smell something dangerous and almost inhuman.

They would smell someone who would kill for Dick.

Noises from the other side of the warehouse made Dick move one pillow so he could watch Tim from the bed. Tim was stripping the rest of his weapons and armor, but regretfully leaving his clothes on. He put a kettle on a small stove and pulled out a laptop. Dick wasn’t anywhere close enough to see what was on the screen, but he could guess it was more work on Bruce and if he was alive. 

Dick had found the notion of Bruce being alive ridiculous when he first heard the theory. Death wasn’t something people came back from. If it was, he would’ve dragged his parents back to life with his own bare hands. 

But then again. Here was Tim Drake. The ghost of the Robin mantle, alive and well. If anyone knew a thing or two about how cheating death worked, it had to be him.

Maybe he was right. The more Dick was around him, he couldn’t see a world where Tim was wrong about anything. He was… he was a lot of things Dick couldn’t put into words.

There was, possibly, some merit to Tim’s point about Dick’s hormones controlling him.

Dick sighed. Hopefully, he would manage to actually sleep it off. Heats could be short, sometimes. Maybe he would get lucky and not embarrass himself even more than he already had. He let his eyes close and mind drift until sleep wrapped around him. 

Dick was not lucky.

He woke up sweating and kicking the blanket off of himself with a huffy whine. His skin was prickly and too hot. He didn’t even have the benefit of feeling well-rested. His body was groggy and stiff, yet somehow restless with energy.

It took a moment to remember where he was, shooting up in a bed that clearly wasn’t his. Tim’s scent could only calm him so much when Dick looked around and Tim was nowhere to be found. The only sound in the warehouse was Dick’s own breathing, which was practically panting.

On the nightstand, was a water bottle, fruit pouch, and a note. The note read ‘have things to take care of. I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t touch anything. -T’ in neat cursive. Dick flipped it over before chucking it aside. The note was hardly helpful when Dick had no idea when it had been left. It could’ve already been a few hours and Tim was late, or he could’ve left minutes ago.

A frustrated growl came out of Dick. He was too hot. His stomach was cramping. Worst of all, was the awful amount of neediness between his legs. 

He kicked off his underwear and tugged off his shirt, desperate to let his skin breathe. The air in the warehouse was cool, but not cool enough. Tim must’ve lowered the temperature before he had abandoned Dick. 

The sensible part of Dick was telling him not to touch himself in someone else’s bed. Especially not the Red Hood’s bed, no matter how good the musk smelled. Tim had made his discomfort with Dick’s heat very clear. Dick was meant to be sleeping it off, not jerking off like a needy animal. 

That didn’t stop Dick from putting his hand between his legs anyway. He whimpered, feeling his wetness. Warm slick made his thighs sticky. Dick had never had interest in touching himself before. His vagina was foreign to his clumsy fingers. Soft flesh with folds yielded to his touch. He was sensitive and squirming, but he couldn’t figure out how to touch himself. Even when Dick managed to get two fingers inside of himself there was barely any relief. He couldn’t go deep enough, couldn’t find the right angle to thrust. 

He braced himself against a pillow and tried to grind his hips, looking for any kind of relief. His cock was small, but hard and leaking. Dick’s mind was too focused on the need to be filled up to bother giving it attention. He just wanted something inside of him. Anything. 

Dick mewled in frustration. He bent his arm in a painful way, trying to get more fingers inside of his cunt. He was half convinced it wouldn’t be enough even if he managed to get his whole fist inside. He was too loose for his fingers to feel like anything more than cruel teasing. His heart was beating fast enough to make him dizzy with the need for something, anything-

“Oh, jesus.”

The voice made Dick jump. He spun around to face Tim, who was standing only a few feet away from Dick. It was mortifying Dick hadn’t heard him come in but the desperate need overrode every other feeling inside of him. Tim had a hand held up to block Dick out of his view and was looking in the complete opposite direction. It was hard to see the look on Tim’s face with his hand in the way.

But Dick could smell him.

It was better than the scent on the sheets. It was the real thing and Dick whined, reaching out for him. He needed with his whole being. A hungry, devouring want that was going to eat him alive if he didn’t get Tim this very second.

“I’m just-“ Tim started to walk away. “I’ll go, shit I’m sorry-“

Dick practically launched himself off the bed to grab Tim. His fingers that latched onto Tim’s wrist were the ones that had just been inside of himself. Dick’s slick smeared across Tim’s pale skin, right on his scent gland.

A full-bodied shudder ran through Tim, but he didn’t make a noise. “Let go. Now.” Tim didn’t pull himself free, but the command in his voice made Dick’s knees weak enough that his legs actually gave out under him. Tim sensed the movement and his instincts got the better of him, wrapping an arm around Dick’s waist to keep him upright.

Dick’s body was pressed against the rough black and red kevlar and leather that made up Tim’s suit. His jacket had been tossed aside but he still had his cargo pants and top with red detailing running over the seams of each panel. As sensitive and hot as Dick was, being pressed against the rough fabric that smelled like gunpowder and Tim made him whimper and push into the contact, forehead buried into the crook of Tim’s neck. His top covered where a mating bite could’ve gone, making Dick pathetically mouth baby fangs against cruel fabric.

“Please,” Dick whined, unsure what he was even asking for. All he knew was being pressed against Tim was the first thing that’d brought him any real relief since he woke up.

“Oh, Dami is going to kill me,” Tim muttered under his breath, using a nickname Dick had never heard anyone use for Damian. It seemed like an instinctual, gut reaction from Tim. “No.” Tim picked Dick up around his waist like he weighed nothing and Dick practically purred.

Unfortunately, Dick was walked over to the bed and plopped down into it. Tim struggled, trying and failing to detach Dick from Tim’s wrist. Dick knew he had to be leaving bruises with how tight his grip was, but he didn’t care. On a physical level, Tim was probably stronger than Dick. But driven by hormones and adrenaline, Dick’s body didn’t listen to that logic and found raptor claw strength to dig his fingers into Tim’s flesh.

“You’re not in the right mind to consent,” Tim grunted through grit teeth. He sounded like he was trying to remain calm and level, but the exertion of trying to get Dick off of him bled through his tone. “And just to be clear, even if you were, you wouldn’t be my type. I don’t fuck jailbait. I will break your fucking fingers, so help me god.”

Dick whined like a petulant child. “You killed someone for me,” he said. It was the only thing he could think to say, giving Tim begging eyes. He didn’t have much of a basis for attraction to Tim outside of that, besides Tim’s sharp looks and intoxicating smell.

What other attraction did he need? There wasn’t anything more intimate than that.

Tim’s expression pinched up. “Murder is wrong.” He was grasping at straws.

In any other situation, hearing the Red Hood say that would’ve made Dick laugh. Hell, when his heat finally faded and he wasn’t drunk on his own hormones, he’d probably laugh at the mortifying ridiculousness of the whole situation. Sitting naked and horny in Tim Drake’s bed, holding onto him with a raptor grip, begging him to fuck Dick. 

It was probably hilarious to an outsider.

“And-“ Tim continued, clearing his throat and giving his arm another tug, “if I knew it’d make you fucking imprint on me, I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“I imprinted on you,” Dick repeated, with some form of wonder. 

Tim huffed. “Without a mating bite, it’ll wear off in a couple weeks and we’ll chalk this up to a bad dream we agree to never speak of again.”

The mere mention of mating made Dick’s hormones light up inside him like fireworks. He spread his legs on instinct. “With a mating bite?”

“Absolute not.” Tim barked out a cruel laugh. “That’s even less likely than me fucking you. I would rather stick my dick in meat grinder than deal with Damian’s wrath-“

“I don’t care about Damian,” Dick snapped, scowling. He was sick of Tim bringing Damian up. Damian had nothing to do with this. Dick could make his own decisions. He was more than just Damian’s Robin, Damian’s pet project, or Damian’s protege. 

“You should. He cares about you more than you’ll know.” Tim gave Dick a firm look. He used a commanding alpha tone that made Dick’s head spin.

Dick tightened his grip on Tim’s wrist. “You care about me.”

“I’m regretting that.”

“Please-“ Dick tried to think of an argument. He was never going to appeal to Tim’s hormones. Even if he could see how Tim’s eyes were dilated, smell the bodily reaction he was having to Dick’s heat coming off of him in waves. Tim was a logical, pragmatic sort of person. He wasn’t ruled by emotions, even if he led people to believe he was. Damian and Bruce had given Dick long lectures about how dangerous that made Tim. 

Logic. Dick could appeal to his logic.

“What am I supposed to do if you don’t fuck me?” Dick was whiny and squirming, but desperate to keep himself from going completely mindless. He remembered vague things he’d read in a textbook. “Untreated heats can make an omega sick.”

The flicker of annoyance on Tim’s face and his lack of an immediate comeback said Dick was winning. He pressed on.

“Dehydration, malnutrition, nausea, vomiting, fever,” Dick listed off the symptoms as best he remembered them. “Extreme causes, like first heats, need hospitalization.”

“I will get you hormone balancers and suppressants-“

Dick violently shook his head. “I won’t take illegal hormones.”

Tim blinked. “Who said they would be illegal?”

“What legal way do you have to get hormones?” Dick pointed out, particularly proud of himself for that argument. It wasn’t like he was a paragon of following the law, but the argument for not wanting some drugs bought off the streets wasn’t a completely flimsy one.

Tim opened his mouth, then closed it again. “They would be… from reputable sellers. I know which drug dealers are trustworthy.”

“I’ll tell Damian you force-fed me illegal drugs,” Dick threatened. It was an empty threat. He had no plans to tell Damian any part of this, but he was banking on the sheer idea of it making Tim panic.

It worked. A horrified look crossed Tim’s face at the thought. Then, Dick could see him actually considering it. Tim finally looked below Dick’s collarbone at his naked body. He was breathing a little too hard.

He licked his lips and when they parted, Dick could see his fangs.

“I want this,” Dick added, shifting his hips in an attempt to relieve the horrible pressure. “I feel like I’m gonna die, please.” Dick pressed his hand between his legs to prove the point and moan came out of him as he tried to finger himself. “I can’t- I can’t get off please-“

“Fuck it,” Tim groaned. “I’m already a dead man.”

Tim moved dangerously fast. One second he was standing and the next he swung his leg over the bed to climb on top of Dick. Dick was caged in between Tim’s knees, staring up at him like he was Dick’s personal god.

A hand brushed across Dick’s chest and Dick arched up, pushing into Tim’s touch. Tim pulled away and started to undo the panels of armor that made up his top. This time when he yanked his arm away from Dick’s hand, Dick willingly let go and watched Tim strip. 

There was a ritualistic efficiency to how Tim stripped. He didn’t waste a single movement and in seconds he was topless. Then his utility belt was pulled off and tossed to the ground too. Dick watched with a watering mouth as Tim pulled his pants down and shifted on the bed to get them off. 

Tim was already half hard. And his dick was beautiful, enough to have Dick whining and spreading himself wide for Tim. He tried to grab Tim’s cock, he needed it inside of him like he needed air. 

“Not yet,” Tim scolded, grabbing Dick’s wrist. His thumb brushed over Dick’s scent gland and his world exploded. He had no idea how Tim remained any form of composure when Dick had done this to him. His whole body was electric with pleasure and he could feel his cunt clenching down on nothing. The sensitive skin was buzzing and Dick couldn’t stop the noises that were coming out of him. 

“Please,” Dick begged like it was the only word he knew. “Please, it hurts so bad-“

“I know.” Tim leaned down and brushed a light kiss against Dick’s neck. Not quite where Dick wanted Tim’s mouth, a few inches away from the gland on his neck that was ripe and begging to be bitten. But still enough contact for Dick to press into. “Trust me, okay? I’ve got you. If we go too fast it’s going to hurt you.”

Dick nodded feverishly. He wrapped an arm around Tim’s neck and tried to pull him closer. More, more of everything. More skin pressed against his. More of Tim until he was the only thing that Dick could feel.

Tim ran a hand down Dick’s side and slid it between his legs. When he pushed his fingers into Dick, he knew exactly how to do it. Two fingers crooked right into that magical spot Dick had heard all about omega’s having. He used to be convinced people had to be exaggerating about how good it felt. 

But now. Now Dick understood. This was a feeling that took him apart and pulled him back together all at once. He cried out, bucking his hips into Tim’s fingers. Tim didn’t thrust his fingers in and out like Dick had tried to when he fingered himself. Instead, Tim just moved his fingers inside of Dick, massaging that perfect spot that had Dick’s legs kicking. 

“Tim,” Dick moaned, throwing his head back. He managed to grab onto Tim’s forearm just to hold him. He felt like he was falling and Tim was his only lifeline. “More, more please-“

“Does that help?” Tim asked, like he couldn’t see the state Dick was in underneath him. His voice was lower than usual, swirling around Dick’s head like ambrosia. Tim’s thumb brushed over Dick’s cock, rubbing at the sensitive skin. 

“Yes!” Dick nodded, eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know he could feel this good. He never wanted to be touched by anyone else’s hands again. 

A tightening feeling was cresting and Dick dug his nails into Tim’s skin. His nerves pulled tighter and tighter, and just when he thought he was going to snap, the explosive peak made Dick screaming.

He was coming. He was coming on Tim’s fingers, clamping down around them. Even Tim groaned softly in Dick’s ear at the feeling. Dick rode the best high he’d ever felt, chasing every sparking edge of pleasure his body could give him and still begging for me. 

The orgasm ended too early. It wasn’t enough and he whined, trying to get more. He felt like he was being teased by something more. 

Dick opened his eyes, blinking hard as his core shook. He leaned forward, mouth falling open on instinct. Teeth searching for Tim’s most sensitive scent gland on his neck. No one else should ever touch Tim there. It was his. He needed to taste Tim’s blood. Needed it so much it consumed his every thought and nothing else mattered.

A firm hand on Dick’s chest pushed him back down onto the bed and away from Tim’s neck. An angry little growl came out of Dick and he tried to snap at Tim, fighting for control.

“No. Behave,” Tim’s voice was so commanding it made Dick’s body go lax on instinct. He couldn’t stop himself from listening. Anything to be good for the rough dominance of an alpha’s touch and voice. “I will muzzle you if I have to.”

Dick pouted at the thought and shook his head, whimpering. “No, no.”

“If you act like a dog, you’ll get treated like one.” Tim’s expression was so sharp it sent waves of submission through Dick. His head was thick with cotton. “Tell me you’ll behave.”

Dick whined.

“Dick,” Tim’s voice commanded and he grabbed Dick’s jaw, forcing him to look at Tim. “Are you going to behave?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to kick and claw and make Tim earn his submission. He wanted something feral and animalistic.

But the threat about the muzzle sounded very, very real.

“I’ll behave,” Dick relented, tension bleeding out of his body. “I’ll be good, please.”

He was rewarded with a long kiss right over his neck’s scent gland. No teeth, but Tim did run his tongue over Dick, tasting his sweetness. Dick howled and tilted his head to the side, baring himself for Tim. 

Tim slipped a third finger in, then a fourth. It wasn’t enough to satiate the burning need at Dick’s core, but it fanned the flames enough for him to push into the touch and let out pleased noises. 

“You’re almost worth getting my dick wet when you act like a good omega,” Tim murmured, mouthing at Dick’s collarbone. “And not like the whiny brat you are.” His words were mean, so mean it made Dick want to push back. But the louder part of him wanted more. He wanted to drink up every degrading word Tim had to say about him. Tim grinned against his skin. “That made you smell sweeter. You really need it that bad?”

He was making fun of Dick and all Dick could do was nod and hold onto Tim for dear life. He wanted to touch every inch of Tim’s skin, but he couldn’t get his hands to work. 

“Everyone talks about how pretty you are,” Tim curled his fingers inside of Dick, playing him like a marionette. “Pretty little Robin, pretty Dick Grayson.” He twisted his hand around and pulled it out just enough to thrust it back in, hard enough to shove Dick’s whole body against the bed. “I’ve shot men in the head for saying they want to bend you over in a back alley and bitch you, you know.”

Dick choked on nothing. His lungs stopped working for a second and his whole body shuddered at the thought. He was protected. Tim could kill a man just for fantasizing about Dick. The moan that came out of him was barely human. 

“They’re sick freaks and they don’t get to have you,” Tim just kept talking, every word making Dick want more and more. “They think you’d be sweet and pretty for them. And all you want to do is sink your teeth into me and act like a demanding, rude brat. I don’t even know why I’m rewarding bad behavior.”

“I’m being good,” Dick slurred out, throwing his head back. 

Tim pulled his fingers out of Dick and Dick kicked in protest, trying to grab at his wrist to force them back inside. He couldn’t stand the emptiness. His fingers missed Tim’s wrist and instead just clawed his forearm, leaving angry red marks. 

“This is your ideas of being good?” Tim scoffed. “I can’t even get my dick in you because you won’t stop acting like an animal.”

Dick made a face at him. Tim had no idea how badly his insides were burning. Every second was torture and Tim seemed to be purposefully dragging it out. He took his time and grabbed Dick’s hips and lifting them up so he could line up against Dick’s entrance.

Then, for some maddening reason, he waited. 

He held Dick firmly enough that Dick couldn’t squirm and try to fuck himself onto Tim’s cock. All he could do was mewl and squirm, staring at what was so close to finally satiating the awful emptiness. 

“Tim,” Dick did everything he could do to make his tone passive and submissive. He was going to lose his mind. “Please?”

Tim tilted his head to the side, like he was actually thinking about it. He wore a devilish smirk, getting far too much enjoyment out of practically torturing Dick. He had to be a sadist. Dick had heard stories about how Red Hood liked hurting people, but this was a different, crueler form of sadism. He was holding Dick right on the edge and just watching him beg and squirm. 

“Please, please, please,” Dick was getting more frustrated with every second. He was starting to cry, tears streaming down his face without any restraint. He didn’t care how humiliating that was. 

“Fuck,” Tim muttered and his cock actually twitched against Dick’s entrance. “You’re a pretty crier. Cry harder for me and maybe I’ll fuck you.” 

A full-bodied sob wracked through Dick. Tim’s words encouraged him to stop holding back. New tears poured out of him and he blinked at Tim through wet eyelashes, trying to convey the begging words he couldn’t get out between his sobs.

Tim groaned. He pushed in. 

Dick was screaming, kicking, back arching. He was full, finally. More than just fingers. Tim’s cock was thick and long enough to carve it’s way into Dick and fill every inch of him. Like a key in a lock. Dick wrapped his legs around Tim’s waist and pulled him as close and deep as he could get. Tim was panting hard digging nails into Dick’s chest. 

Then Tim started moving.

Slow, shallow thrusts at first. Letting Dick get used to the almost painful stretch. His cock dragged against Dick’s sweet spot with every thrust, punching moans out of him. He couldn’t catch his breath between the crying and mewling. 

“Tim,” Dick choked out. He managed to bury his fingers into Tim’s soft hair. “More, more please.”

“Fucking insatiable,” Tim finally lost his level tone. He sounded ragged, shudders running through his body. “I think you want me to break you.”

Dick nodded eagerly at the thought. 

Tim had the audacity to laugh. “No. You couldn’t handle me at my worst. Be grateful I’m going easy on you.” He sped up his thrusts, pulling out all the way and slamming back in with enough force to punch the air out of Dick’s lungs.

Maybe Tim was right. When he properly fucked Dick it pulled his world apart and he couldn’t think. He didn’t know how he wasn’t dying like this, so overwhelmed by pleasure his body couldn’t seem to remember basic functions. 

Dick couldn’t be sure how many times he came.

It all blurred together, listening to the ugly sweet nothings Tim whispered into his ear while fucking him. There was no sense of time and every new orgasm bled into the last one. Overstimulation tortured his raw nerves and he couldn’t pull away. He didn’t want to pull away. Dick didn’t care if it became the worst pain he’d ever felt. He would take every second of it, just to feel Tim inside of him. Listening to Tim call him a mouthy whore, an omega who needed to be put in his place. 

It was heaven on earth. 

“Fuck,” Tim groaned as another orgasm wracked through Dick, making him scream and desperately struggle. He didn’t know if he wanted to get away from the painful overstimulation or feel more of the wonderful pleasure. Tim’s thrusts were getting sloppy. “This might hurt,” he warned, hands running over Dick’s sides.

Tim managed to get a hand down to Dick’s small cock to give it rough stimulation. It was too much but Dick had no way to escape it and no words to beg Tim for mercy. Worse, his traitorous body pushed into the touch, seeking more of it. 

Dick understood Tim’s words when he felt the cock inside of him start to swell. One final, brutal thrust and Tim was coming inside of Dick with a yell of Dick’s name. 

His knot was too much for Dick to even process.

Dick’s body stretched to accommodate it and still it wasn’t enough to stop the awful burn. The only distraction was Tim jerking him off, keeping a steady rhythm even as he crested at the peak of his own orgasm. Dick came one final time and was caught between the pain of the stretch around Tim’s knot and the pleasure of Tim’s fingers. 

“Too much!” Dick shrieked, shaking his head. 

“I know, I know.” Tim kissed Dick’s temple in apology. His spare hand stroked Dick’s wrist scent gland with slow strokes. It helped calm Dick down enough he could manage to breathe. “It’ll get better. Let your body adjust. You’re doing so good.” Gone were all the mean insults. Instead, Dick got to bask in praise that made him preen and start to relax. “Just like that. You can take me. You’re a good omega.”

Just as Tim promised, the pain started the fade the more Dick convinced himself to go boneless and lax. 

The awful neediness that had burned Dick from the inside out was finally, finally put out like a snuffed fire. It got replaced with nothing but a pleasing relaxation. He was content and full, reminding him of the feeling after eating his favorite meal.

It took him a second to realize he was purring, nuzzling into Tim. 

“Good,” Tim praised. He carefully readjusted them without jostling his cock inside of Dick too much. The small bits of movement didn’t bother Dick so long as he had Tim’s arms wrapped around him. 

Tim got them settled with Dick on top of Tim, still wrapped tight around his cock. It could take hours for an alpha’s knot to deflate and Dick didn’t care one bit. He could already feel the exhaustion seeping it’s fingers into his mind and pulling him toward sleep. 

“Tired,” Dick mumbled against Tim’s skin, breathing in Tim’s satisfied scent. 

“Sleep,” Tim encouraged. He lightly scratched Dick’s head in a soothing motion. 

Dick hummed in agreement. “You won’t leave?”

Tim made a weird noise. “No. I’ll be right here.”

With a final pleased purr, Dick nodded and drifted off.

It took almost three hours for Tim’s knot to deflate enough to pull out of Dick. 

Thankfully, it didn’t wake the sleeping demon when Tim slowly pulled out and managed to climb out of the bed. He wrapped Dick up in the comforter and against his better judgment, pressed a quick kiss to Dick’s forehead. Breathing in the scent of sweet flowers and fresh rain one last time before pulling away. 

Tim wasn’t sure if he hated himself for this or not. That would take a lot more deliberation and probably some alcohol to decide. Dick looked like an angel when he slept. Young and innocent. Completely unaware of the monster he’d climbed into bed with.

Tim sighed. He needed a shower.

He took a quick and hot one, washing every inch of Dick’s scent off of his skin. It wasn’t a scent he deserved. Too sweet against his scarred skin. It clashed too much with Tim’s own tainted scent. 

Toweling off and tugging on boxers and a plain shirt forced Tim back out of the shower. His phone was found in the pocket of his pants that were tossed on the ground, next to a sleeping Dick. 

Tim didn’t have to look up the contact. He had the number memorized. 

It rang twice before being picked up. 

“Speak now,” Damian’s cold voice ordered. Tim couldn’t blame him. Being called by an unlisted number put anyone on edge.

“Just to be clear, you’re still against murder right?” Tim asked, walking toward his small kitchen area. He hoped he still had energy drinks in the fridge.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Timothy,” Damian’s voice was quiet. Hopeful, maybe? Probably not. Tim refused to be naive.

“So we’re back on first name basis,” Tim hummed. He grabbed the last energy drink in the fridge and cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder, cracking the lid open.  “I hope that’s good news for me.”

Damian let out a sigh. “Timothy, I-“

“Hey, I asked you a question,” Tim reminded him, plunking down in a chair. He opened his laptop and pulled up the same file he’d been staring at for weeks now. “I was pretty serious about it.”

“Of course I’m still against murder,” Damian huffed with impatience. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Tim nodded. The question was mostly a joke, but it didn’t hurt to be sure. “Good. That means I don’t have to worry about you decapitating me.”

Another beat of silence. “What did you do?” Damian asked quietly. He sounded like he was bracing himself for the worst.

If only he knew. 

“You’re a hundred percent sure?” Tim dragged it out, both because he had no idea how to say he fucked the kid Damian adopted, and just for the fun of it.

“Timothy,” Damian warned, voice dropping a dangerous octave. At least he was still using Tim’s first name. The worst thing Damian had ever said to him was switching back to his last name. Like they were strangers again. “How many bodies are there this time?”

It was probably morbid for Tim to snort. He turned and looked at Dick’s sleeping figure. “Just the one. But it’s a different kind of body count. I didn’t kill anyone.” That was a lie. Tim had killed three different drug lords tonight, but that hardly deserved a confession.

“I’m in no mood for your games.”

“So before you get mad at me-“ Tim started carefully- “you’ve really got to keep a better eye on your pet projects. If anything, this could be your fault.”

A soft noise came out of Damian. “Richard? If you hurt him Drake-“

And back to last names. Figured. Tim ignored the twisting pain in his chest as well as the assumptions Damian made about him. They weren’t exactly baseless. How could he blame Damian? 

“He’s fine,” Tim cut him off. “Sleeping like a fucking log.” Tim paused. May as well rip the band-aid off. “Because I fucked the daylights out of him.”

It took a lot of self restraint to not laugh at the silence at the other end of the line. Tim regretted not doing this face to face. He figured the look on Damian’s face had to be priceless. 

“Pardon?” Damian said slowly. “If this is your idea of a joke-“

“He presented as an omega,” Tim explained. “Had his first heat and imprinted on the first alpha he smelled.” He purposefully left out the part about Zucco probably being a driving factor. Damian didn’t need to know the bloodlust his little protege had. “Little brat followed me back to my base and barely gave me a choice.”

“He gave you no choice,” Damian turned the words over without an ounce of belief in his tone. “You, of all people, couldn’t restrain yourself?” Damian was still too shocked for Tim to get a full reading on exactly how dead he was.

“I did a pretty damn good job of it,” Tim kept his tone cool, but not too defense. “Until he started jerking off in my bed, Dami.”

There wasn’t a response. If not for the quiet breathing, Tim would’ve worried the line had dropped.

“He could’ve gotten sick if his heat wasn’t treated,” Tim added belatedly. “He was already running a fever by the time I… helped him.” He could practically feel the ghost of Dick’s skin against his, burning up. “You should still take him to a doctor.”

“I’m coming over now,” Damian finally said, with absolute definitiveness. 

“Oh god.” Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s going to kill me if you do. He really didn’t want me to call you. Which I tried to do, by the way. He put a throwing star in my hand for that.”

Damian sputtered. “Why wouldn’t Richard want you to call me?”

“Because you’ve got the biggest stick up your ass?” Tim mused, sipping his drink. “Tell me exactly how you would’ve handled his heat. Go on.”

“With far more grace than deciding to copulate with him,” Damian snapped, but still sounded embarrassed. “I would’ve gotten him the necessary medical care.”

“Sure,” Tim nodded even though Damian couldn’t see him, “what about emotionally? The one time I accidentally went into rut because of sex pollen you panicked so hard you fell off a roof and wouldn’t speak to me for a week.”

The noise that came out of Damian made Tim actually snort. “I’ve matured. You simply caught me off guard with your… feral hormones.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “And what about Dick’s feral hormones?” He sighed. “Look, I get it. You come from a long line of betas, this is basically the adult version of cooties to you. But just throwing some medication at him wouldn’t have helped. All this feral hormone stuff is intense, especially the first time. I’m not proud of myself either. But he needed something to calm down that wasn’t stewing by himself.”

It was the truth. His original intentions had been driven by real concern and an honest want to help. Even if Tim had no reason to care about Dick personally, he knew the poor kid was suffering and needed something more than some hormone blockers. 

What Tim had enjoyed along the way was something he could just keep to himself, though.

“I do not consider alpha and omega hormones to be cooties,” Damian sniffed, pointedly avoiding giving any other response.

Tim snorted. “Sure. I’ll see you in fifteen?”

“Ten,” Damian said. There was a pause. “Thank you for helping Richard,” Damian spoke quietly, like he was afraid of someone hearing him. “You may have a point. I don’t know what I would’ve done. I was unprepared for this possibility of him presenting as anything other than beta.”

“So that means you won’t break at least half a dozen of my bones. Good.” He didn’t bother to hide his sigh of relief.

Damian scoffed, but there was humor to it this time. “I’ll settle for one or two.”

Tim couldn’t tell if Damian was joking or not. He smiled anyway. 

“You’re doing a good job with him,” Tim promised, watching Dick roll over in his sleep. “He’s not a bad Robin.”

“Do you really believe that, Timothy?”

Tim smiled sadly. Against all the anger that brewed inside of him, he let the soft moment linger for a few seconds longer. “Sure. Hell, Todd’s a good kid too. Your dad would be proud of the job you’re doing with them.”

“He’s your father too.”

Tim swallowed down his resentment. “I’ll see you in ten, Dami.” 

He hung up the phone and went back to staring at the image of Bruce on his screen.

Dick woke up to a cool washcloth being pressed against his forehead and a large hand checking his cheeks for their temperature. He groaned, stretching. His eyes opened and adjusted to the light.

He almost fell off the bed with a startled squeak. 

“How are you feeling, Richard?”

Dick pulled the blanket up tight around his shoulders and stared at Damian with wide, horrified eyes. “How did you-“ Dick tried to get the words out but failed miserably.

“Timothy called me,” Damian said simply. He was standing over Dick, dressed casually yet still managing to look as regal as he always did. He handed Dick a bottle of juice. “Drink.”

Instead of accepting the juice, Dick hunted the warehouse for Tim. He was leaning against a support beam, looking at his phone, completely unaffected by Dick’s mortification. Dick snatched a throwing star off of his crumpled suit and threw it at Tim.

Tim had the audacity to catch it mid-air, not looking up. “Sorry, kid. You only get one cheap shot.”

“You said you wouldn’t call Damian,” Dick huffed, folding his arms. He took one look at Damian and decided to accept the juice. 

“I am your legal guardian,” Damian answered for Tim, giving Dick a quiet stare. “It was his job to call me so you could be taken care of.”

Dick wrinkled his nose. “I was taken care of just fine.” He drank a third of the juice in one go.

A snort came out of Tim and Damian turned a bright red. 

Dick got a better look at Tim and frowned. “What happened to your nose?”

A splint was wrapped around the bridge of his nose and there was faint bruising under his eyes. Tim looked up from his phone. He didn’t say anything, just cast a look at Damian.

Damian, who had faintly bruised knuckles.

Without even thinking, a surge of protectiveness went through Dick and he punched Damian’s arm. “You broke his nose!” Dick tried to swing again, but Damian caught the punch. 

“Drink your juice, Richard.”

“You got your cheap shot in, he got his.” Tim held waved his bandaged hand in the air, reminding Dick of the damage he’d done with a throwing star. “Honestly, he went easy on me. I expected worse.”

Dick deflated a bit and fell back down onto the bed. He took another angry sip of juice.

“I’ll… give you privacy to collect yourself and dress,” Damian cleared his throat and looked away. “You can meet me in the car.”

“But Tim-“

Damian’s glare made the words die in Dick’s throat. “Timothy will be fine. He’ll stop by the manor tomorrow to discuss his… theories.”

“I will?” Tim frowned. He blinked at the harsh look Damian gave him. “Sure. I will.”

“For now, you need medication and rest,” Damian continued, turning back to Dick. “In your own bed.”

Dick wanted to argue. But arguing with Damian had the efficacy of trying to argue with a brick wall. 

There was a bright side to this. Dick wasn’t being completely cut off from Tim, and Tim hadn’t been mauled by Damian’s overprotectiveness. It was something Dick could work with. He’d find ways to get more leverage.

“Give me five minutes,” Dick grumbled.

Damian nodded. He ruffled Dick’s hair and turned to walk out of the warehouse, pausing briefly to look at Tim. “Timothy.” Damian nodded.

“Dami.” Tim nodded back. 

That was probably the closest to saying ‘I love you’ Dick was ever going to witness between those two.

No matter how hard Dick tried, he couldn’t get much reaction out of Tim, leaving him to pout in ignored silence as he slid his Robin suit back on and stomped out of the warehouse, into the car Damian was waiting in.

“How are you feeling?” Damian asked, starting the car.

Dick pursed his lips and tried to put it into words. “Like I fought Killer Croc, Solomon Grundy, and Bane all at once.” His whole body was sore and there wasn’t an ounce of energy left in him. He could sleep for a whole week and it probably wouldn’t be enough.

Damian nodded. He kept his eyes on the road for the next question. “Was… did Timothy…”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Dick put Damian out of his misery. “Don’t blame him, okay? I wanted it.”

“Do you regret it?” Damian asked.

“No.” There was no hesitation. Dick’s answer was instinctual. 

Damian only gave him a nod. It was impossible for Dick to guess what Damian was thinking, no matter how hard he watched his facial features for any tells.

“You’re not going to ban me from seeing him, are you?” Dick asked suddenly, fiddling with the end of his cape.

“No,” Damian said, “you can see him. With supervision.”

Dick groaned and threw his head back against the car seat. “You’re the worst.” 

“He’s still dangerous,” Damian reminded him. “I don’t know if I can trust him.”

“You want to trust him.” 

Damian glanced at Dick. “That is none of your concern, Richard. Timothy and I will work out our own issues. You won’t be caught in the middle.”

Dick wanted to argue, but there was no point. He rested his head against the cool window glass and watched raindrops fall down the other side of it.

He’d find a way to warm Damian up to the idea of him and Tim together. Dick was convinced Tim already cared about him more than he was admitting. Maybe enough that going to him for Dick’s heats could be a regular thing.

He closed his eyes and smiled.