Chapter Text
Empathy is an omega’s greatest strength, and greatest weakness. In a pack, an omega can create and strengthen bonds, co-parent pups with other omegas, ease tension and raise spirits. They’re meant to be treasured and protected as much as they treasure and protect the most vulnerable within a pack. It’s the same empathy however that can be damning for omegas stuck in packs they don’t want to be in, and even worse for omegas without a pack at all.
Unfortunately for Dick, he’s stuck somewhere between the last two, maybe pack but also packless.
It had been fine when it was just Slade, Wintergreen, and the kids. The four of them were a pack, mostly, although the acute lack of an omega meant their bonds were shit and everyone was at each other’s throats, always, but they were still a pack. Slade is their alpha, Rose his heir, Wintergreen and Joey were betas.
Adding Dick into the mix had been…interesting. He most certainly was not pack—he’d been on his own since moving to Bludhaven and satisfied most of his omega needs with the Titans who were happy to cuddle him, share a heat, or listen to him vent about how fucking stupid Bruce is or how much he hates Blockbuster. But the truth is being a single omega is hard, and Dick is pretty lacking in funds when holding down a stable job as a vigilante is next to impossible.
So, you know things happen. Deathstroke came into town for a contract, Dick distracted him long enough for the victim to escape—Deathstroke decided that meant Dick needed to be taught a lesson. Getting dragged back to his own apartment while Deathstroke’s furious scent promised retribution ranked pretty high on the most embarrassing things to ever happen to him, but it could not have been worse than what came next.
“You’re joking.” Deathstroke’s voice is extra gritty through his mask, like he’d been gargling rocks and cigarettes from the day he’d been conceived in the womb. Dick hangs limply in his grip, scruffed with his feet only just touching the floor. His fight had been taken out of him after Deathstroke dared to spank him in plain view—sure they’re both in costume tracking via rooftops in the dark, but anyone could have seen, and Dick isn’t willing to chance the embarrassment of a civilian snapping a picture and that making it all the way back to Bruce.
Nah, he’d rather not, thanks. “Does it look like I’m having a laugh?” Dick throws out there. They’re in his apartment now, Deathstroke can’t really do worse to him than he’s already got planned.
Deathstroke gives him a good shake and Dick hisses through his teeth when that makes his brain rattle. He’s sensitive goods for God’s sake, and Deathstroke’s elbow had caught him in the head earlier—he’s been jostled enough. “Don’t fucking test me, kid.”
Dick sticks his tongue out, the pinnacle of maturity. Deathstroke drops him without another word. Unfortunately, Selina got the cat motif and Dick didn’t. He does not land on his feet.
“How much fun we’re having already.” Dick comments from the floor. The ceiling spins only a little. It’s the first time he’s even seen what it might look like if the ceiling fan actually worked.
“This place is a dump, kid.” Slade sneers, the mask coming off so Dick can see the disgust on his face. He’d roll his eyes, but he doesn’t want to imagine how much worse that might make his headache.
His place is…definitely not a lot. The front door opens into a tiny living room that’s just big enough to hold a loveseat, a coffee table, and a bookshelf. If he could afford a TV it might go on the wall, but as it is his laptop on the coffee table works great for watching things. Then there’s a kitchenette—practically barren aside from the coffee machine, toaster, mini fridge and microwave Dick has plugged in. Only two of those work at time so Dick has to pick and choose which of his three nonessential appliances get to work alongside the mini fridge. They take turns based on what he needs most.
His bedroom fits a twin bed and a night table, the closet barely big enough for Dick’s (admittedly abundant) nesting supplies and what little clothing Dick has. The washroom is a tight squeeze even for just Dick alone.
The place itself doesn’t smell great, kind of mildewy and he has to take allergy pills to stop sneezing sometimes. There’s also definitely more than one draft.
“No shit, Sherlock. It’s not like I live here, asshole.” Dick pushes up into a sitting position, dragging himself backwards until the side of his couch meets his back and he can slump against it. “I’m not exactly flush with cash, you know? We can’t all be heartless mercenaries.”
Slade crouches down in front of him, that one blue eye of his incredibly intense and far too close. He hates the feeling of being studied, of being seen. “What?” He snorts like the alpha prick he is. “Daddy bats ain’t bank rolling you anymore?”
Dick takes a dramatized glance around the room. “Why don’t you tell me, Einstein?”
Slade cuffs him upside the head and Dick doesn’t bother to pretend it phased him. He’s taken enough hits to the cranium that the small knock can’t do too much more damage than what’s already been done. Slade frowns and Dick mimics him—although where Slade’s is more constipated, Dick’s is more pouty.
He huffs. “You’re a piece of work, kid.”
“Thank you.”
He shakes his head and tugs Dick closer, apparently forgoing retribution in favour of kissing him stupid until Dick gentles and melts against him instead of the couch. It’s not terribly healthy that the man he lets into his bed most often is supposed to be one of his greatest enemies.
Slade’s hands slip up his back, finding the zipper to Dick’s suit and tugging it down, down, down, bringing the front of his suit down with it until it’s pooling around his waist. running up and down his chest, counting the spaces between his ribs. “Omega,” Slade chides. Dick presses even closer, trying to steal his warmth. Slade is so large, and Dick’s heat doesn’t work for shit, and even with all the blankets in his nest he struggles to get warm here.
It’s not terribly healthy to let an alpha into his bed that will prioritize fucking him before feeding him—but Dick knows Slade has long since figured out he’s much more easily swayed after getting his thoughts rammed out of his head then when he’s angry and stubborn and wearing the Nightwing suit meant to emphasize the lines between them which shouldn’t be crossed.
The good thing is, it’s a lot warmer with Slade crushing Dick into the mound of pillows, blankets, and clothing that compile into his nest, sweat slicking their bodies and come spilling out of Dick’s freshly used cunt.
“I have a job for you.” Slade whispers into his ear. His fingers tease Dick’s clit as he whines breathlessly beneath him, lungs constructed from the solid alpha pinning him in place.
“Even fucked stupid, I’m not dumb or heartless enough for your profession.” Dick reminds him. It’s a lot less stern than he means to make it sound. Slade huffs again this neck, smelling of a sweetened woodsmoke, maybe a hint of tobacco. Amusement and contentment are always so addicting when it’s pouring out of the alpha still inside him. Dick’s cunt weakly milks his cock, although he’s too tired and warm for a second round.
“It’s a good thing I don’t want you for that, then.” Slade rumbles. He tilts his head, huffing again, another laugh that’s not a laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t turn you down if it was what you wanted, but, no.” Slade drags his teeth down the side of Dick’s neck, straying dangerously close to his mating glands. “Need someone to work with the kids, keep ‘em in line as we get the pack into shape. An omega like you would be just the man for the job.”
Dick rolls his eyes. “Don’t kid yourself, Slade. There aren’t any omegas like me.”
Slade does bite down lower on his shoulder, digging his teeth deep enough to leave a bruise that’ll ache like hell and stay around for days. Dick lies there and takes it, the omega instincts he so rarely gives into starting up a purr at being used like his alpha’s chew toy.
“Go fuck yourself.” Dick murmurs.
“I’d much rather fuck you, omega.” Slade counters, tugging at Dick’s clit. He whines but his protest goes ignored and unnoticed. “Don’t be stubborn. You need the cash, I have it. You need something to do, and I can give you that entertainment. It’s so easy to say yes, pretty bird.”
So easy to make a deal with the devil. So easy to say yes.
Dick says yes.
So he’s not in their pack, not their omega—but it’s undeniable that he’s been a key part to holding the pack together anyway, and pretty damn obvious he’s regularly fucking their alpha. All three of them, Wintergreen, Rose, and Joey defer to him inside the safe house (extremely posh cabin in the woods) if not outside of it, and things have been going….alright.
Nightwing can take a hiatus every now and then. What? Don’t judge him.
The four of them and Dick are making this weird situation work. He takes his birth control every morning, pops Advil about midday for the budding headache that starts around whatever time someone starts to stir up shit, and gets fucked right before bed every evening. The hours in between are spent exactly as Slade described—working with Rose and Joey to improve their skills after physical training, be it flexibility or deduction or lying, and keeping the pack together.
The occasional week Slade leaves for a contract tends to go even smoother without him to raise tensions even higher, so when he leaves for the most recent one, Dick could care less. Sure, he might be killing people, but Nightwing is on hiatus. If anything, his omega instincts are mourning the lack of regular sex.
He’s gone far longer than a week without, his inner omega can fucking deal.
And it’s all going fine, the four of them and Dick, it was working well, at least until Slade comes home—err, returns, from the mission that is.
“I’ve got gifts!” He hollers, walking in through the front door. They’re in the living room playing Clue. Dick has won eight rounds straight, and it would have been more, but on game three Wintergreen won and Dick had to rebuild his streak from the start again. Joey and Rose have been whining for the last five games about how competitive Dick is, and won’t he just let them win once? He knows Slade calls them the kids and Dick has taken up the habit, but considering Rose is almost seventeen and Joey just turned twenty, this is even more immature than their usual.
“Living room!” Dick shouts back, planning for his next move in the game. Slade stomps through the house like a barbarian, from the sounds of it his shoes are still on despite how many times Dick has nagged about taking them off. Everyone else learned quickly to do what Dick says when it comes to shoes in the house, but Slade is at heart a contrary asshole.
One who’ll be mopping the floors if he’s tracked mud in.
“Congrats, you’ve got a promotion.” Slade announces. Dick looks up just as Slade passes him a squirmy, warm weight that makes discontented pup noises in Dick’s arms before Dick settles him in his lap.
Dick and the pup stare at each other in equal amounts of surprise. “Slade,” Dick starts, feigning calmness. “Why is there a child in my lap?”
“It’s yours now.”
Dick’s heart does something abnormal, his scent fluctuating drastically between surprise, anger, and want. “That’s not funny.” He bites out, trying to keep his voice even because there is a very wide-eyed puppy staring at him with dry tear tracks staining his round, chubby cheeks. He can’t be older than four.
“Not meant to be a joke. I had a mission. Pick up a package, deliver it wherever I saw fit.” He waves a hand, and Dick interprets that as Slade doing something he was almost certainly not supposed to do. “And here ya go, a brand new puppy. You’re welcome.”
“I’m going to kill you.” Dick says. His voice is so flat that everyone aside from Slade and the pup flinches away from him. “What is his name?”
Slade has a shit eating grin on his face. He wouldn’t know that if it wasn’t audible in his reply because Dick is just absolutely not looking at him right now. Unfortunately for Slade, he can’t contain his own smugness. “Damian.”
Damian turns to Slade when his name is said, lips turning down like he might cry. “Oh, it’s okay, puppy.” Dick promises. Lies, maybe. He’s snuggling the kid to his chest trying to ooze comfort instead of rage, with his heart thumping hard behind his ribs—no longer just beneath his skin thanks to the weight and muscle he’s managed to put on after a few months of regular meals that contained actual nutrients.
Soft brown skin takes on a reddish color as Damian works himself up anyway, green eyes getting brighter as he prepares to cry. Dick rocks him back and forth, making shushing noises in between soft coos. “Don’t cry, little birdy. No, you’re too cute to cry. Look at these chubby cheeks,” Dick murmurs, reaching up to give one a gentle squish. “These are meant for smiling, I’m sure you’d have cute little baby dimples if you’d just smile for me, like a happy little puppy.”
The pup whines, reaching up to grab Dick’s finger and latching onto it with a stronger grip than he’d expect of someone so tiny. “No?” Dick murmurs. “That’s okay. We don’t always have to be happy. Especially not when big stinky alphas kidnap us. No we don’t.”
Rose coughs to cover up her laughter and Joey doesn’t even try.
Slade watches from the doorway, far too pleased with himself. Dick stands. “You’re the worst person in existence.”
“Admit it, you like my gift.” Slade cajoles.
“Go fuck yourself.” Dick calls over his shoulder as he carries the pup out of the room, dodging Slade’s hand when he reaches out to squeeze Dick’s ass.
“I’d much rather fuck you, omega.” Slade calls.
It’s a familiar exchange, but Slade is truly underestimating how pissed Dick is. “Try doing that after I cut off your balls.” He snarls, slamming the door to their bedroom—god, why was Dick ever stupid enough to share a bed let alone a bedroom with Slade—and locking it behind him.
He looks down at the pup in his arms, and the pup looks up at him.
Dick mentally makes a note in his head to demand an obscene amount of money for his new ‘promotion’, and another to schedule a shopping trip into town for things the pup would need.
Then he walks into the ensuite and starts a bath. This pup needed to get clean, the rest would come after.