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Bruce remembered the quiet moments of childhood from his side: pretending to be asleep so his dad would carry him to bed, groggily asking his mother for one more story, curling up between his parents after a scary movie.
For years, those memories represented something that had been taken from him, stolen in a moment of violence, something that he could never get back.
Then he had children, and he realized that he hadn’t lost the quiet moments, he was just on the other side of them.
Now Bruce was the parent tucking his child in or carrying him to bed after a long night out, and of course, nesting with his pups during his heats.
Bruce loved nesting with Dick, but as the pup got older, he was less interested in being smothered and more antsy after the first couple hours. It stressed Bruce out that he could tell Dick had somewhere he’d rather be even if he said he’d stay in Bruce’s nest.
He’d spent one lonely heat by himself, miserable and alone after Dick had moved out.
Then Jason stole his tires. Bruce suddenly had a feisty little pup on his hands, and to Bruce’s (and Jason’s), his firecracker pup presented as omega two weeks after the adoption was finalized.
One of his favorite parts about having an omega pup was that if one of them went into heat, it triggered the other’s heat. Jason had always been content to eat popsicles and popcorn for a few days while watching old detective shows. Unlike Dick, Jason had no place to be.
And nowhere to run.
Jason groaned and rubbed the side of his neck, blinking sluggishly once, twice, before his eyes settled on Bruce’s silhouette in the dark.
Jason shot up in bed and scrambled back from Bruce, tumbling off the other side of the bed in his haste to escape, but it was too late.
“Bruce?” Jason all but yelped, clambering to his feet. “What the hell? What are you doing here?”
Bruce tilted his head. Jason must be on heat suppressants if he didn’t realize, or maybe the Lazarus Pit or his short-lived death had thrown off his natural cycle.
In lieu of answering, Bruce pulled back the cowl to uncover the cinnamon-sweet scent of his oncoming heat.
Jason sniffed then scowled. “What the hell, Bruce? Get out of here with that shit.”
That was the full intention. Jason’s apartment was mildewy and smelled heavily of cigarette smoke, hopefully from the last tenant. It was not secure at all—it had taken Bruce two minutes to break in, and his son was going to live here?
Bruce couldn’t control Jason all the time, but Bruce was not spending his heat in this place, and neither was Jason.
“We’re going home,” Bruce told Jason simply.
Predictably, his second son scoffed and climbed out of bed to argue. Good. The faster his heart beat, the faster this part would be over.
“If you think for one second—” Jason swayed and stumbled, almost knocking into his nightstand before Bruce caught him.
Jason tried to shake himself free of Bruce, but he didn’t have the strength anymore. Bruce could see the moment of realization, Jason’s eyes narrowing as his hand rose again to the pinprick in his neck that had woken him up.
“You drugged me,” Jason slurred grouchily.
Bruce brushed Jason’s hair back from his face—it was getting long, but it reminded him so much of the scared little boy Jason had been years ago when Bruce brought him home.
“Yes,” Bruce agreed. “It’s for your own good.”
Bruce had taught Jason once that he didn’t need to be scared, but Bruce had failed Jason and the message didn’t stick. This time, he thought as Jason’s eyes rolled back in his head and his son went limp in his arms, this time, I won’t fail him.
What better way to show Jason that he was still pack, that Bruce still loved him beyond words, that he was still Bruce’s little boy, than to bring Jason into his nest during his heat?
Tim yawned and rolled to the side when someone nudged his ribcage. From the sweet scent of heat, Bruce must be back from whatever urgent errand he’d had to run right before his heat.
Tim opened one eye, saw Bruce lowering Jason Todd’s unconscious body into the nest, and closed his eyes again.
“G’night, B,” Tim said, content that he was not the problem child tonight.
“Goodnight, Tim,” Bruce said, happily tucking Jason in next to Tim before climbing into the nest to watch over them.
“’s goin’ on?” Jason yawned, trying to sit up.
Bruce pressed him back down. “Go to sleep, Jason.”
Jason was confused enough to obey, and Tim decided it would be in everyone’s best interest if Jason settled so Bruce could calm down. If that meant that Tim rolled up against Jason’s side and clung to his arm to keep him from getting up, then so be it.
As Tim curled against Jason’s side, Bruce purred in approval, his scent taking a distinctly happy turn.
“You’re a good pup,” Bruce purred in approval.
Tim was a good pup, wasn’t he? The best, if he was being humble.
As Tim settled back to sleep, Bruce carded his fingers through Tim’s hair, leaving his protective omega scent on Tim like Tim was his real son.
Yeah, being the best kid had its perks.
“D’you drug me?!”
“Goodnight, Jason.”