Chapter Text
Jason keeps one hand clutching at Dick’s ill-fitting sweater even as he willingly takes Damian into his arms. He clutches the pup close, cradling him against his chest in one-handed comfort even as he begs, “please, Dickie. Don’t leave us here, we can go together.” Damian was crying even before Dick handed him over, the poor baby now openly weeping into his brother's chest. Jason lets out a half purr, instinctively trying to soothe the toddler despite his own scent souring in distress.
Dick pulls out of Jason’s hold just enough to pull Tim closer, guiding the boy to hold onto the younger omega’s shirt. Tim white-knuckles the threadbare fabric, ever the good boy. Dick allows himself the time to take a deep breath, takes another, “it’ll be okay. I’ll be right behind you.” He forces the wobble out if his voice, tries for a reassuring smile, but Jason shakes his head all the same.
He won’t dare say it, not in front of the little ones. But Dick knows, of course he does. Dick allows himself the moment of weakness, he reaches out to cradle the boy’s face. Jason leans into the gentle touch, biting his lip hard enough that Dick knows he must be desperately fighting back the helpless whimper threatening to bubble out of him. Dick rubs his wrist against his cheek, spreading his strawberry shortcake scent across his skin. He’d stand there forever if he could spare the time, engulf his boys completely in loving-claiming-protective scent.
He can’t dare though, not with the musky alpha stench growing stronger. So he presses a quick kiss to each of his boy’s heads and whispers, “take care of each other. I love you.” Damian sobs, reaching a grabby hand out to the pack omega. Jason doesn’t let him latch on, even as he looks half a second away from doing the same thing. Tim cries into his big brother’s side, clutching at his waist like a lifeline. Jason doesn’t have enough hands to comfort both pups as well as cling to Dick.
“Love you,” Tim blubbers when Jason is biting his lip too harshly to respond. He’s such a sweetheart, he deserves more than the mere hair ruffle Dick gives. But he truly doesn’t have the time.
Jason doesn’t find his words before Dick is gone, running down the rickety stairs as silently as he can. He quickly reigns in his scent, wishing not for the first time that he had access to blockers. His only saving grace is the collar adorning his throat. He can’t for the life of him remember how he ever acquired such a high-end item, by far the most expensive thing he’s ever owned. The leather wrapped metal is impenetrable to even the most feral of knotheads, ensuring that no matter what these monsters may try they’ll never be able to forcibly mate him.
He sniffs the air, getting a whiff of multiple alphas. He can’t tell exactly how many there are by smell alone, but surely more than he’d ever be able to take on his own. He doesn’t know how, but whenever he has gotten into altercations he’s inexplicably been able to fight off his assailants. It’s saved him and his pack on more than one occasion. Muscle memory kicking in even when his brain can’t recall ever practicing such movements. Even so, he’ll never be able to handle a whole horde of them by himself. He doesn’t have to though, not really. He just needs to buy Jason enough time to get the pups out of here.
His stomach already clenches achingly at the idea of having to find yet another new den. But with this one already compromised, the best thing his boys can do is run away.
“Smell that?” One of the bastards growls out, “a bitch is nearby.” The other alphas grumble in agreement, footsteps growing nearer as they search. Dick forces his breaths even, ensuring they won’t hear him until he’s already taken one down. They're far bulkier than him, especially with how scarce food has been lately. Jason tries to give him part of his share, knowing how small a portion Dick gives himself when he has three pups to feed. But he won’t let the boy wither away, he may be second oldest but he’s Dick’s pup all the same. He won’t let anything more happen to him, to any of them.
Dick is punching one of the knotheads across the face before they even realize he’s there. The man collapses to the floor, and the rest turn to him, sickening grins on their faces even with one of their own unconscious. One with a gnarly scar across his brow laughs, a cruel sound, as he openly sniffs the air, “well look at that,” his grin only grows. “Where are your pups, mama?”
Dick lets out the most ferocious snarl his body is capable of making. Of course, he knew the alphas would be able to smell the milky pup scent on him, but he foolishly hoped he’d be able to take another one down before they realized. He manages a good kick to the crotch of another fucker before he’s hit from behind. He scrambles back, just barely getting to his feet before he’s punched again. He thrashes, scratching deep enough to draw blood, before he’s dropped from their painful hold.
He keeps going, he has to, no matter how many hits he takes he’s gotta keep moving. Anything to keep his family safe. Jason is fast, even carrying both Damian and Tim he’ll get them safe. He always has before, he has to trust that he will now. Dick just has to hang on a little longer.
He manages to get three of the five down before one of their meaty hands grabs him by the collar. He chokes, digging his little omegan claws into the hand in a feral effort to be released. The man shakes him, relishing in his pained noises. “Not so tough now, omega. We’ll let you go if you tell us where your puppies are.” Dick isn’t that stupid. He kicks back, and he’s rewarded by his collar being released. He collapses to the floor, dragging himself back before he can be grabbed again. The other two monsters close in, ready to take and take and take.
He punches one in the gut before the other gets a fistful of his hair. Dick doesn’t have the chance to bite at the muscular arm before his head is being smashed against the floor. He claws at the alpha, just to be thrown down with another nauseating thunk against the ground. He doesn’t get the chance to try again before more hands are on him, forcing him into unconsciousness.
/
Dick doesn’t know how much time has passed when he finally drags himself back into a steady coherency. He has a bleary recollection of torturous pain and spitting obscenities between his lapses of consciousness. He blinks his eyes rapidly, desperately searching for an escape. For once, his memory doesn’t fail him. He knows exactly how he got here, how his clothes ended up in tatters along the floor, why there’s blood oozing all over his body. He knows how terribly he failed and he knows how vital it is to get his head on straight. He has to find his pups. He has to make sure these monsters didn’t get their hands on them too.
He promised Jason, he said he’d be right behind him. He won’t break the boy’s trust now, not after almost two years of earning it.
His arms are bound behind him. When he wiggles them, ignoring the aching pain in his shoulders, he finds it to seemingly be zip ties. He’ll have to be careful then, too much movement and he’ll completely cut off circulation. Based on the painful tingling in his fingers he must be halfway there already.
He can’t explain it, but somehow he thinks he can get out of the binds. His feet are not tied, allowing him to flip himself over, gritting his teeth through the agonizing pain the movement brings. He pushes through the increasing nausea, contorting himself to slip his feet past the ties, allowing him to pull his hands in front of him. He’s still bound, but at least his hands will be a little more useful now.
He digs his teeth into the zip tie, using his omegan fangs to try to gnaw through. He’s hardly made a dent when he hears gunshots. He can’t suppress his flinch, recoiling away from the locked door. He bites down harder, desperately trying to free himself before the trigger happy alphas come for more. There’s distant shouting, but he can’t make out the words. His brain is still rather syrupy. He needs to get a fucking grip already if he’s going to escape.
The yells are getting closer and he’s nowhere near freeing his hands. It’s futile, his hands will be no use if the alphas come back before he has a plan. Now that he’s awake and lucid he’s finally able to get a good look at the room he’s been kept in. He carefully keeps his gaze away from the various fluids staining the floor, instead focusing on the window near the ceiling. He won’t be able to reach it without jumping, but if he can manage to get ahold of the ledge then he’s sure he can break through. The alphas were not foolish enough to leave anything sharp behind, nothing that will aid him in cutting the zip ties.
There’s more gunshots, irritating the already pounding headache Dick has. With no better option, he digs his canines back into the plastic. It seems to be loosening, there’s the very beginnings of feathery hope tickling at his ribs when the door is pounded on. The knotheads must have remembered their toy, eager for a hole to abuse after all that violence. He rips at the zip tie, finally managing to break it when someone starts banging on the door harder. They must have lost their key, the fucking morons. Regardless, it allows Dick the time he needs to leap for the window.
The first jump leaves him crumpling to the floor. The torturous pain between his legs is too harsh to ignore. He feels the blood, and likely other fluids, dribble down his inner thigh and he has to swallow down the panicked sob when the door gives a creak. He forces himself to wobbly knees. He doesn’t even jump higher this time, fingertips unable to graze the window ledge before he collapses again. His vision whites out for a moment, pure anguish threatening to pull him back into unconsciousness. He’s hardly gotten back to hands and knees before the door is finally broken down.
He doesn’t have the strength to suppress his frightened whimper at the mere bulk of the man. He practically fills the entire door frame, all muscle and foreboding strength. Dick just knows he’ll break. If such a huge man tries to use him now, he’ll have nothing left. He can’t, he can’t. He needs more time. He was so fucking close, he knows he could have made that leap. Just a little more adrenaline and he would have done it, he could have gotten back to his boys. His sweet cubs are waiting for him, he can’t give up.
But the alpha is so big.
Something akin to grief billows inside him when the man steps forward. He’s in a black bodysuit, looking straight from a costume store. Cape and all. Something itches at the back of his brain but Dick ignores it, too busy trying to crawl away from the alpha. The man has scent patches on, but it’s clear what his dynamic is. No beta or omega could ever be so naturally imposing. His mere presence demanding submission with every breath. Dick fights his instinctive keen, his omega urging him to bare his throat if only to be shown some semblance of mercy.
The man’s steps stutter, giving Dick enough time to cower against the wall. “Dick?” He calls out. Fuck. He really shouldn’t be surprised the traffickers know his name but it stings nonetheless, to have nothing left that’s his alone. They’ve already taken so much, couldn’t they have let him keep this one thing? It’s not like they’d used his name at all up until now, much preferring lewd insults. His flinch must be telling enough because the man steps forward, voice lowering enough to lose some of its graveliness. “Oh Dick, I found you. I’m here, I’ve got you.”
It’s cruel, for him to pretend to be nice before using him. It would be kinder to just get it over with, leave him to lick his wounds and find a new escape route. Dick can’t help but curl in on himself in a weak defense when the alpha looms closer. It does nothing to preserve his modesty, his whole body on full display. Instead of grabbing his hair or smacking him for breaking the binds, he drops to his knees. It’s so sudden that Dick can’t stop the whimper that escapes him. There’s nowhere for him to go. The bricks of the wall dig into his bare back and irritate the bloodied wounds.
All at once, he’s overcome with the fear that there is indeed a man strong enough to bite through his collar.
Somehow, the man’s voice lowers further. “I’m here, I found you. I never stopped looking, Dick. I’ve got you now.” It’s so fucking cruel. And Dick doesn’t even know why. Why would this stranger pretend to know him, pretend to care? If he’s honest with himself he does know why, logically he does. He’s a monster, he must get off on it, this weak attempt at role-play. Dick should play along, he knows. Sometimes they’re gentler if he plays pretend, but he’s so tired. His ribs are noose-tight with the yearning need for his pups. He’s past missing them, straight into a desperate mourning. He hasn’t ever been away from them this long, not as far back as he can remember.
His only strength is knowing Jason has them. If nothing else, the omega is scrappy. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep the little ones safe. All Dick has to do is get back to them.
The man lets out a ragged breath. It’s hard to read his expression behind the mask he’s wearing, but he doesn’t seem to be angry. If Dick is lucky, maybe he won’t be punished for his lame escape attempt.
Before Dick can decide if the man seems like the sort to hit him for speaking out of turn, there’s more gunshots from somewhere else in the warehouse. He scowls, “come on, we need to get out of here.” Just like that, he’s grabbing him. He avoids the worst of his wounds though, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Dick tries to stand, he really does, but when his knees buckle the alpha simply scoops him up. He doesn’t reprimand him for his weakness. He doesn’t even take the opportunity to grab his bruised ass, instead cradling under his knees. It’s the most painless way he could be carried and he fears what the demanded payment will be for this small kindness.
“I’ve already taken down most of those thugs, but there must be a few stragglers.” He says it like it makes sense, like he expects Dick to understand. He doesn’t dare question it, too busy trying to cover his most sensitive areas. The man must notice, because he uses his cape to cover Dick like a blanket, gifting him some sense of modesty as they go past several unconscious rapists. As bizarre as the alpha’s outfit is, he supposes there are weirder kinks. So he keeps still and prays he’s not thrown down.
Any glimmering hope that this man may not be completely wicked is diminished the second he sees the very-much-not-a-police-car. So this isn’t a rescue, it’s a claiming. An alpha taking what he thinks belongs to him. And now he has the freedom to take Dick wherever he desires, knowing the omega is too weak to run away. He didn’t even bother binding his wrists again, confident there’s nothing Dick could do about it. Maybe he should have just left him in the warehouse. At least then he had a chance.
The man lowers him gently, easing him into the passenger seat. Red hot pain shoots up his spine, even with the softness of the leather. He knows it’ll stain, all the fluids dripping out of him are going to ruin anything he touches. When he’s able to breathe without breaking down into tears, Dick doesn’t bother trying for the door, not wanting to push his luck and earn another spanking so rapidly. He should be grateful as it is, that he’s not been reprimanded yet.
The man gets in the driver's seat. He doesn’t take the opportunity to touch, instead pulling out and beginning to drive. Dick is still trying to keep his breathing even when he speaks up again. “I’m so sorry I took so long to find you. There’s no excuse. I should have saved you sooner.” So he’s still playing the game. “I know nothing will make up for it, but I’m here now. I’ll do whatever I can to help you through this.”
Dick has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about but he won’t dare contradict him. So long as he’s not being touched he’ll let the man spew whatever bullshit he wants. He almost wishes he got to keep the cape over him though, if only to have something to cover up with. The car is rather warm at least, his shaking coming more from fear than a chill.
“I’ve missed you so much, Dick. Both of us have.” Oh fuck, this guy has a friend. Figures. “Alfred will be so glad to see you again. He’s not been the same since…” He trails off. As if he expects Dick to be able to finish the thought.
When the man looks over at him, he realizes he’s expected to respond. “Tha-” he has to clear his throat when it’s too raspy, “thank you for saving me, alpha.” He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to call him, so he can only hope he’s not disciplined if he guessed wrong.
He can’t help his flinch when the alpha’s head whips to him, mouth agape in absolute disgust. There’s nowhere for Dick to hide, there’s nothing he can do but take it. He curls in on himself, readying for the hurt but all the man does is spit out, “none of that. I don’t know what those monsters put in your head but Bruce is still fine.” He huffs out an angry breath, “god, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. No more of it, I promise. I won’t let any of them touch you again.”
Well at least this Bruce guy doesn’t plan to share him with more than his one friend. That won't help him take his knot though. He can already feel himself clenching painfully at the mere thought of the enormity it must be. He knows he’s been torn loose, but even that won’t be enough. He can only hope Bruce will allow him a day's rest before he demands him to take it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop bleeding if he mounts him tonight.
“Thank you, Bruce,” he says it carefully, unable to lose any of the full-body tension until he’s successfully unpunished for using his given name.
The alpha sighs, “you don’t have to thank me. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t have ever been in this mess.” He doesn’t seem to be looking for a response so Dick stays quiet. Bruce doesn’t speak up again, leaving them in pensive silence until they pull up to their destination.
They arrive at a literal cave and any sort of resignation Dick had bleeds out of him. This bastard is fucking insane if he thinks he can drag Dick to an actual cave to be knotted in. There’s no way, he won’t. He may be nothing but a whore to these fuckers but he’s not that worthless. He won't do it, even if he has to claw and gnash his way out of here, he won’t.
He’s fruitlessly looking for escape routes when they park inside. It’s more finished than he would have expected, looking more akin to a bizarre basement than an actual cave. Regardless, Dick doesn’t get out of the car until Bruce scoops him out of his seat and carries him over to what looks like a hospital bed. He doesn’t say anything about the stains leaked onto the leather. Dick doesn’t get the chance to roll off before the man is placing a thin blanket over him, covering his privates. It’s so unexpected that Dick pauses, suddenly wondering if this is part of the role-play. Still part of the rescue act.
If he’s going to keep playing, then maybe Dick should too. Anything that will leave him with enough strength to get back to his pups.
So Dick forces himself to sit nice and allows the alpha to putter about, gathering medical supplies. His blinks are growing longer with exhaustion by the time he hears footsteps approaching. There’s nothing he can do but clutch the blanket tighter and hope he’s not punished for the wrinkles he’s causing.
The new man seems to stumble a bit before rushing forward. Dick is still trying to process his posh appearance when he starts speaking, “Master Dick, it is you after all. I am so pleased to see you have been found.” The beta grins at him so brightly it almost seems genuine. Dick must not be subtle enough in the way he eyes him, trying to figure out his relation to the alpha still gathering supplies beside him.
The beta pauses, seeming to do a thorough scan of his own before he lets out a shaky breath. “You must be truly out of it.” He says it purposefully, searching for something Dick doesn’t have to give.
It catches Bruce’s attention. Perhaps that was his intent. “What do you mean?”
The beta’s eyes stay on Dick, assessing him. “Master Dick, do you know who I am?”
Is this part of the game? Dick doesn’t know the rules yet. He doesn’t know what the correct answer is. If he guesses wrong then he’ll surely earn punishment. There’s not enough time to decipher what they want of him when they’re both staring so intently, so he says some semblance of the truth. He has to force himself not to murmur, not to seem quite so terrified, “I’m sorry, sir.”
It’s the wrong answer.
“What are you talking about?” Bruce demands, once again looming over him. His bulk could easily smother Dick’s entire body. Further proof that he won’t be able to take his knot. No matter how well behaved he may try to be, it won’t be enough. “Dick, you know him. You have to, they couldn’t have-” he cuts himself off before he picks right back up. “I saved you. They took you once, they couldn’t have taken this too. This is a joke, some sick joke.”
He staring again and Dick doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.
His voice sounds pathetic even to him, all watery and wobbly, “I’m sorry,” he repeats. He doesn’t know the rules. He doesn’t know the game. He doesn’t know these men, or what they expect of him. It’s all too much. He just wants his pups back. He wants to take the load off of Jason, let him be a kid, even if just for a few moments. He wants to hold Tim, listen to all his excitable rambles. He wants to cuddle his baby, kiss Damian on the cheek and tell him how loved he is. He wants this all to be over already. He wants-
“Tell me you’re joking. All that alpha stuff, god, Dick. You know me. I know you do.” He’s getting louder and Dick can’t shrink himself small enough. “Tell me this is a prank. You couldn’t have forgotten.” He spits the word out, as if it personally offended him.
It doesn’t feel like a game anymore.
He’s about to apologize again when the beta speaks up, “Master Bruce, I don’t mean to overstep but I believe his wounds should be the priority.”
Bruce lifts a hand, seeming to try to run through his hair before he remembers the mask covering half his face. With a huff he rips it off, revealing what he actually looks like. It does nothing to soothe the suffocating clench of his ribs against his lungs. Vise-like and all-consuming. “Right, right.” He mutters, before pulling the tray of supplies beside the bed. “I didn’t mean-” he cuts himself off again. “Let’s get a look at you.”
Dick holds the blanket so tight he’s worried his claws will rip a hole through the fabric. He couldn’t afford to replace it. It’s probably worth more than he is. When he recoils from Bruce’s outstretched hand, the beta steps forward. “I believe Master Dick may still be in a bit of distress. If you’ll allow me?” They stare at each other then, having a silent sort of stand off, before Bruce abruptly turns. He stomps off towards a door and slams it behind him.
Dick startles painfully and the beta doesn’t scold him for it, simply gives him an understanding smile. “My name is Alfred, I apologize for not introducing myself earlier.” Once again, Dick is at a loss for what’s the preferred response. If he’s simply supposed to listen or if he’s truly allowed to speak. Alfred must see through his turmoil because he says gently, “you have permission to speak. You shall never be punished for sharing your voice.”
Praying this isn’t a trap, he mumbles, “thank you, sir.”
“Alfred will do just fine.” He stays patient, even as he scolds him. “If you will allow me, I would like to clean and dress your wounds.” It’s not as if he truly has a choice. Surely, if he tries to argue with Bruce’s beta then the alpha himself will dish out punishment. That is unless Alfred has permission to take him in hand, if the situation calls for it. It’s not something he can risk, not when he’s already been brutalized so severely.
Alfred looks nice enough, maybe he really will remedy the injuries. Ignoring that feathery itchy feeling inside him, he nods. Alfred is nothing short of professional. He makes quick work of offering pain meds, and as foolish as it may be, he turns down the chance to feel less of this full-body misery. He can’t risk being roofied. The beta diligently washes his hands, applies rubber gloves, and narrates each movement before he touches Dick. Without complaint, he easily wipes away dried blood and alpha cum before tending to the actual injuries. His touches don’t hurt, not purposefully. Of course the antiseptic stings, but that’s not Alfred’s fault.
It’s the kindest anyone outside Dick’s little pack has touched him, probably ever. He can’t remember much before he met Damian’s dam, but he knows he was hungry and hurting. He doesn’t think he knew much kindness before then, before he got his baby.
Alfred thoroughly bandages each wound spanning across his upper body, going so far as to apply soothing cream to his bruises. He can’t recall the last time he’s had so much medical attention. Typically, the most he can do is allow Jason to apply some stolen bandaids to the worst of his wounds. Jason does the best he can, but he’s just a teenager. He’s not trained for this, not in the way Alfred seems to be. With well-practiced hands he finishes up on the many lacerations across his back before asking, “if you are comfortable with it, I’d like to care for your lower body now.”
It’s a rather proper way to say it, if this is his way to feel him up. He has the perfect opportunity to, to wiggle a finger inside, get a taste of what now belongs to their pack. There’s nothing Dick can do to stop him, not reasonably. So he bundles up the blanket and hopes Alfred won’t take it away. Blessedly, the beta allows him to hold onto the blanket much like he would hold onto one of his cubs. Tim still fits so perfectly in his arms, still short enough to tuck below his chin. Damian too, of course, the toddler always melts so beautifully into his embrace. When Jason allows himself the comfort, he slots in like a missing puzzle piece.
God, Dick misses his boys so badly it aches. It’s a worse pain than that between his legs. It’s cloying and all-encompassing and he knows it won’t get better until he has his nestlings back in his arms. All wrapped up together in one big puppy pile. They’ll make a new nest, in a new den, and Dick will keep them cuddled up as long as he can. Until they’re breathing in their own warm air and they can no longer distinguish where one packmate ends and the other begins.
He needs to get ahold of himself before he starts blubbering. He won’t give Alfred the satisfaction of breaking him, no matter how polite he may seem.
Alfred is nothing less than clinical as he cleans his legs. It’s a longer process than even his back, so thoroughly ruined with fluids that don’t belong to Dick. He doesn't complain though, no matter how many wipes he goes through. Dick can’t help but tense when he trails closer, diligently cleansing the marred skin of the scent glands on his inner thighs. They’re particularly sensitive.
The traffickers had been livid, to say the least, when they couldn’t remove his collar. Which only led them to punishing the glands they did have access to, leaving his wrists and thighs especially bloody and bitten. It won’t leave a real claim, won’t mate him, won’t do anything other than hurt. Alfred has to grab even bigger bandages to cover the expanse of the damage.
“I apologize, Master Dick. I am certain this is quite uncomfortable.” No fucking shit. “If you want to take a break at any point feel free to let me know.” As if Dick could be that stupid. That would probably just egg him on, encourage him to push and push until Dick is a weeping mess across the bed.
He tends to all of his wounds on his legs and feet before finally addressing his most sensitive areas. He’s shown remarkable restraint so far, not even looking at his softened cock or ruined hole yet.
“I am going to treat your privates now.” Is the warning he gets. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t have to look, he already knows what’s going to happen.
Except, Alfred doesn’t fondle him. He doesn’t try to get him off or penetrate or any of the things Dick expects him to. He simply wipes him clean, ever so gently against the raw skin. He rubs soothing cream over the wounds and bandages what he can. There’s not much he can do about the actual tearing, but he doesn’t linger there either. When he’s done, he himself drapes the blanket back over Dick, giving him some semblance of privacy once again.
Dick isn’t sure how but he must alert Bruce that they finished because the alpha emerges only a moment later. He’s dressed in much more casual clothes now, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s carrying a small pile of clothing and from first glance, it doesn’t look like anything humiliating. Though he’s sure there could be lingerie hiding between, or the clothes simply aren't meant for Dick. He visibly looks calmer now, face having lost most of its tension. He’s just as imposing as before, but seemingly less of an active threat. Maybe Dick actually has a chance at getting through the night without a knot, especially when Alfred spent so much time cleansing him. It would be cruel to spend so much time tidying him just to ruin him again.
Bruce moves cautiously, as if approaching a spooked animal. And Dick doesn’t feel like anything more than. He still has his scent patches on. “I brought you some of your old clothes.” What. “I’m not sure if they’ll still fit.” Dick hasn’t found the courage to ask for clarification before the pile is dropped unceremoniously on the end of the bed. And then Bruce just stands there.
Oh. There’s no reason for him to have bite back lingering betrayal. So he leans forward, allows the one comfort he’s been granted to slip off. Bruce makes an aborted sound before he turns around. Alfred tuts, and busies himself cleaning up the various medical gear. It takes longer to get dressed than Dick would have liked, but neither man comments on it. They don’t look until the bed squeaks as he sits back down, now clad in an oversized sweater and baggy sweatpants. He was even given briefs, however loose they are, it's still the most he’s been covered in days.
“Very well,” Alfred says, after successfully wiping down everything in the vicinity. “I shall go prepare supper.” He turns to Dick then. “If there is anything you may need please do not hesitate to summon me.” And with that, Dick is left alone with his new alpha.
Dick dares to cover himself up better with the blanket, fighting back a shiver. Even with the new clothes the cave is still fucking cold. He must not hide it well enough because Bruce suddenly steps away, pulls something out of a drawer, and comes back with yet another blanket. This one looks softer, more akin to something that would belong in an actual bed than a hospital. “Here,” he says. He lays it over Dick before he could take it out of his hand. And he can’t help but wonder if this is his idea of a courting gift.
The silence is somehow just as awkward as in the car. Bruce glaring at the floor like it wronged him specifically and Dick still trying to think of how to escape a fucking cave. Eventually, he turns again, this time picking up a rather large book. Dick can’t recall if it had already been sitting there or if Bruce had come back with it.
Either way, Bruce takes a seat in a rolly chair sitting nearby, scooching it beside the bed. He’s close enough to touch now. He doesn’t yet. Dick digs his nails into the blanket.
“I’m sorry for scaring you earlier. I should have been more,” he thinks for a second, “sensitive to your situation. It’s not your fault you don’t remember.” He sighs, a sound Dick is beginning to hate. “I just never thought when I got you back you wouldn’t have even known you were lost from me.” His mind seems to drift for a moment before he suddenly pushes the book into his hands. The omega holds it carefully, not eager to be punished if he wrinkles the pages.
It’s only once it’s in his hands that he realizes it’s a scrapbook, the pages thickened with layers upon layers of photos. “I wanted to show you that I’m not lying. Dick,” another pause. “You’re my son.” He barely lets it sink in before he’s reaching forward and opening the first page. It’s a photo of a small dark-haired boy positively beaming at the camera. With a hand on his shoulder is undoubtedly Bruce, his smile more reserved but no less genuine. Dick risks bringing the book closer, getting a better look at the boy.
“Do you remember anything from your childhood?” He questions. It’s not the first time he’s been asked that, and his answer is the same. He has vague flashes of feeling, bleary images of kind smiles and bright colors. He remembers warmth. He remembers a gentle voice. He can’t recall who it was. But he knows it felt nice, a soft lull amidst all the gaps. He remembers flying. It doesn’t make sense, it’s not something he’s ever told to anyone but Jason. This inexplicable feeling of soaring through the air, knowing he’d be caught. Knowing he was safe.
Jason, for once, did not tease him for his sappiness. He was gentle, understanding of how important this was. This fleeting thing inside Dick, this one tether he has to his life before.
There’s other things too, even more blurry. As if the more he tries to remember the more it slips away, sand through his fingers or whatever. He remembers loneliness, desperation. He remembers hearty food and a solid presence, but it’s as if he can’t look up. He knows there was someone there beside him but he can never get a look at their face.
Staring down at this book, this photo, he wonders if this is the face he’s been searching for. The child in the photo does look quite a lot like Dick. He doesn’t have anything from his life before, no definite proof of what he looked like when he was young. But when he pictures what he could have been, it’s this. Cheeks round and well-fed, toothy grin, eyes bright with wonder not yet lost. Maybe this boy looks a little too happy to be Dick, but when he tries to reach for those memories, he does think there was happiness. There had to have been, for there to be remnants of serenity between all the chaos.
He doesn’t know exactly how old he was when he began this life, when he woke up on the street cold and dirty. But it was definitely older than the boy in this photo. And yet, the similarities are uncanny. While there are plenty of dark-haired blue eyed boys, he has the same smile. The one Dick now only has when he’s alone with his pups, when they’re all curled up safe in the nest.
He doesn’t remember the question until Bruce is staring at him, seeming content to let him ponder.
“Not really,” he finally says. He’s not about to spill all of this to an alpha, especially not one that kidnapped him. There’s still the possibility that this isn’t Dick in the photo.
He’s not disciplined for thinking too long, or for having a bad answer. Instead, he gives a sad sort of smile. “That’s okay. That’s fine.” It doesn’t really sound fine. “I adopted you when you were nine.”
Wait, so this isn’t even his sire?
Once again, Bruce just plows through whatever reaction Dick is about to give because he turns the page, revealing the boy flying through the air. “You had two omega parents. You were part of the circus, The Flying Graysons.” Dick has so many questions and even if Alfred was right and he is allowed to speak, he doesn’t get the chance. “You were good, kid. So good. You did trapeze with your parents. It was breathtaking, seeing you soar.”
Dick can feel it. The wind blowing past his face, gravity unable to weigh him down, arms reaching out for someone. Knowing they’d have him, they wouldn’t let him fall. He reaches and he reaches and-
“They uh, they passed away when you were young.” There’s no time to grieve his newfound parents because Bruce continues, “and I took you in. I adopted you.” He says it like he’s trying to prove something. “You were with me until about two and half years ago.”
Dick gapes at him. There’s no way he could have guessed that. There’s no way he could just know how long Dick has been on the streets. There’s no way he could pinpoint exactly where his memories stop, leaving him with vague flashes of longing and hollowness.
“You were taken from me.” There’s such a ferocity to the way he says it, raw emotion at full blast and if Dick could, he’d shy away from it. He’d back up until he hit the wall and he’d hide some more. He knows what happens when alphas get too emotional. Even if this man did adopt him, even if he is his father, that doesn’t make him less of an alpha. “Two and a half years ago you were taken away and I never stopped searching for you.”
Then why did you never come? He doesn’t ask. It would be a foolish question.
Dick can’t keep eye contact when he’s being looked at like that. He stares down at the photos and he can’t help but think if that really could be him. It checks out, the feelings of flying, and actually seeing a younger version of him soar. But then what happened to them? Why did he end up with an alpha? Why was he taken?
He has so many questions and he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to ask. There’s so many more pictures to look through. There’s so much he wants to know. But then Alfred is calling them for supper. And Bruce is scooping him up, apologizing for irritating his wounds, and bringing him upstairs. Just like that, they move on and Dick is once again left feeling cemented down while everyone else seems to press on just fine.
Turns out, they live in a whole ass fucking mansion. And yet they let him shiver away in the fucking cave downstairs? Dick knows he will never get over his apparently filfty rich alpha having a fucking personal cave. The audacity of taking ‘man cave’ to the literal sense.
It’s at least a more digestible thing to be angry about.
Dinner is a quiet affair. Dick overwhelmed by all this potentially life shattering information, Bruce too busy staring at him like he may disappear any moment, and Alfred tending to the food and dishes. When Bruce does try to bring sensitive topics up, Alfred shoots him down with one withering look. The alpha hardly had the chance to explain the tests and brain scans and the ‘personal doctor’ he wants Dick to endure before Alfred is shutting him up. Dick pokes at the food on his plate and can’t help but think that this serving would be enough to feed all three of his pups back home.
Dick doesn’t have to fight back hyperventilation again until Alfred suggests he get ready for bed. He knew it was too good to be true.
It really could all be a game. An elaborate fucked up game, but one nonetheless. Some intimate role-play a rich ass alpha gets off on, pretending to be the dad to his new toy. Maybe he has an incest kink. Or maybe he really did have a son, and once he saw Dick he figured he could be a good enough replacement. Either way, he trembles the entire way to the bedroom. It’s not until Alfred opens the door for him that he realizes the room is clearly for an omegan boy, not the burly man who stole him away today. There’s already a cozy nest built on the bed, clearly crafted by experienced hands. The walls are covered in photos and posters and when he glances over, he thinks he sees that same boy in them.
He’s still gawking at all the decor, all the thought that went into this scheme, when Alfred starts explaining. “This is your old room. I understand if you are not comfortable staying here now, but I thought you should see it.”
He couldn’t imagine a nicer place to spend the night, and maybe that’s why he should say no. The nest looks so cozy, perfect to burrow into, and he thinks it would break something in him if that’s where Bruce decides to deflower him. Dick is selfish though, if he’s going to be offered this one comfort, he’ll take it with open greedy hands. He’s still a bit bitter that he had to leave those blankets in the cave.
“This is good. Thank you, Alfred.” He hopes he sounds sincere enough. The man has been so kind to him and he’d hate to ruin the façade now.
The beta grants him a smile, small and genuine. “Very well, Master Dick. There is a bathroom attached. I took the liberty to fill it with the necessary toiletries. If there’s anything else you need please do not hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you,” he says again. He pushes down the urge to say more. He shouldn’t, not when he’s going to escape soon. The first chance he gets.
Alfred leaves soon after, allowing Dick to stew in his building anxiety. He still hasn’t gotten a good gauge on Bruce, on what kind of alpha he is. He really seems intent on this whole son thing, and so there is the possibility he’ll leave him untouched for the night. Dick can’t afford to be that optimistic though, he won’t be unprepared this time. He makes quick work of brushing his teeth, despite the way he yearns to scrub each and every tooth squeaky clean. He hasn’t had access to warm running water in awhile. Their pack was lucky enough to have any water, as frustrating as it was to only have it cold.
He spares a moment to wash his face, careful of the bandages on his throat, surrounding his collar. The failed mating bites should heal quickly, he hopes. By the time he sees his pups again he hopes the worst of the damage has faded. It’ll only distress them more, if they see the full evidence of what was done to him.
Jason will know, he always does. But Tim is still so innocent, he shouldn’t have to bear this weight too. This overwhelming worry for his pack omega. Damian will be okay, he has to be. The pup is strong, more so than any toddler should have to be. He’ll ask of course, always an inquisitive little boy, but that’s okay. Dick is an expert in soothing his worries away before they fully form.
He doesn’t dare locking the door, too scared of what the possible punishment could be for that particular transgression. They’ve been surprisingly patient with him so far, but he knows how quickly that could turn. He can’t let his guard down. He can’t let himself be overcome by all this possibility. Even if he has a dad, even if he truly has been looking for him, that doesn’t change anything. He can’t stay here. He can’t live with an alpha. He can’t leave his pack behind.
He’s lucky as it is that neither of them questioned the pup scent on him. That is, unless the knothead’s abuse of him eradicated whatever leftover scenting his pups may have left on his skin. As much as it makes his omega whine to know his packmates' pheromones are no longer embracing him, it works in his favor. If Bruce is the jealous type, whether he’s looking for a sexual relationship or not, it’s better he doesn’t know Dick has a pack. It’s uncharacteristically lucky of him that they didn’t even bother with his collar. They didn’t even ask about it.
It’s not like Dick knows how to remove it anyway, if they demanded he take it off. It had been a hassle then, when Jason gave him a familial claiming bite. He could barely nip the edge of the gland, even with Dick shifting the collar as far as it would go. It was enough though, for his scent to change. So anyone would know he’s marked, he has someone to come home to.
He did the same to his fellow omega, ensuring no one who looked at Jason thought he was up for grabs. They both placed a nip on Tim’s gland, careful not to overwhelm the pup. His scent gland still isn’t fully formed, won’t be until he presents, but it’ll help if there’s ever a situation he gets separated from either omega. They didn’t dare bite Damian, not wanting a single hurt on the baby, no matter how small. It’s not as if he’s ever out of touching distance anyway. If not pressed against Dick’s chest then he’s wrapped up in Jason’s arms or curled in the nest with Tim.
He’s sure his scent is all wonky now, too distressed to smell of anything more than spoilt strawberries and burnt sugar. It only works more for him, keeps Bruce from discovering any ties between him and his pups.
He has to sit down before he outright collapses. He gives into his whining omega and crawls into the nest. It’s just as heavenly as it looked, and all at once he’s devastated at the idea of ruining it. Of staining it with sweat and cum, probably blood too. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to tarnish something so good. He doesn’t want to spoil this lovely room. He doesn’t want to get dirty again when he only just got clean.
God, he just wants to go home.
He tries to be good, he really does. He lies in the nest and keeps an ear out for footsteps, but they never come. He waits and he watches through the crack in the curtains the changing of the light outside, and he waits more. If Bruce isn’t going to rape him tonight, maybe this is his chance. If he was gracious enough to allow him to rest, maybe he went to sleep already.
It could be a test. All of this could be, to see how good of an actor Dick could be. How easily he’d fill this pre-written role for him.
But he has to try. He’s sure he’s due for punishment anyway. He has to make it worth it, when he’s finally forced down and taken for everything he’s worth.
It’s idiotic and stupid and foolish and fucking desperate and he can’t help himself.
He finds shoes in the closet. It’s the only thing he’ll allow himself to steal, outside of the clothes he’s wearing. Just in the bedroom alone are so many supplies his boys need. Clothes and toiletries and medicine in the cabinet, so much he’ll never be able to afford. But the last thing he needs is a vindictive alpha accusing him of stealing as well as running away.
So he ties the laces as tight as he can bear and finds the bedroom door still unlocked. It opens soundlessly, allowing him to tip-toe down the hallway. He really should have tried harder to memorize the path from the dining room to the bedrooms. But it’s not like it matters. He’s not dumb enough to try one of the doors. Surely this guy is wealthy enough to have alarms. Hopefully though, he’s not paranoid enough to have marked the windows. As long as he can find one on the ground floor, he’ll figure it out. He’ll break out if he has to. He’ll run and run and Bruce won’t be able to catch him, not when he’s going home to his boys.
It takes him longer than it should to disable the lock on the window. His hands won’t stop trembling. One good meal and a couple hours of sitting won’t heal all the trauma he went through in his time with the traffickers. That’s fine though, he doesn’t need to be in top shape. He just has to go.
He knows he should be more suspicious of how easily it was to get outside, but he’s too overcome with relief. He’s careful to avoid the garden lights, running to the wall. It takes an embarrassing amount of time to scale it, his fingers keep slipping and his knees ache beyond belief, but he does it. He does it and he jumps and when he lands he’s able to get back up again. He’s going home. He’s finally going home.