Chapter Text
In Gotham, there is always someone trying to stand out more than everyone else.
Whether they are politicians, celebrities, criminals, or even among its vigilantes.
And Red Hood made quite an entrance.
The news is talking about nothing but that.
Seven decapitated heads, left in a duffel bag at the police department.
A power vacuum in the outskirts of Gotham. Major drug dealers have lost their lives.
And the new crime boss didn't stop there. He was carrying out a true cleansing of Crime Alley.
He doesn't forgive. His hand on the trigger doesn't shake.
But without "unnecessary" deaths, so to speak.
Besides attracting people's attention, Red Hood managed to attract the vigilantes' attention as well.
He is definitely on Batman's radar.
A file has already been opened on him.
Red Hood.
It had already been one of Joker's aliases. The old clown.
Just the mention of that name is enough to cause suspicion and a worry deep in the gut.
That, combined with the increasing number of deaths attributed to Red Hood, has left Batman tense.
Joker was never predictable.
Using a crime boss isn't exactly within his comfort zone.
But the performative nature of both is undeniable.
The deeper they dig, the more connections between the two seem to appear.
Even with this huge case, Tim is grounded!
As the protective omega Bruce is, he is practically keeping Tim locked inside the mansion.
Of course, he understands what Bruce went through with the loss of one of his sons.
But it's unfair to be treated as helpless.
He has fought Joker several times alongside Bruce. Especially during the older man's darkest phase.
Tim is Robin for that reason, to accompany Batman and help him.
Even so, he has been getting increasingly protective and suffocating.
He isn't even Bruce's pup. The boy is there to maintain Robin, not to replace Jason.
He has never been a good pup. His parents say so.
Maybe that's why, at this moment, he is disobeying Bruce, continuing his investigation into Red Hood.
Bad. Bad pup.
His instincts scream, making Tim roll his eyes from where he is crouched on a rooftop behind a ventilation pipe.
He's only proving a point he already knows.
Typing on his laptop.
This is the second week he's been doing this.
Trying to create a map of Red Hood's routes.
He should ask Oracle for help, but even she is having trouble watching through the cameras.
Hood is very slippery. He avoids the cameras, which are already few and far between in Park Row, and most of them are damaged as well.
Tim also knows he shouldn't tell anyone about his little endeavor. Or the Alpha will become protective, then she'll tell Dick, who will come and stand guard at his door, then Bruce will be disappointed, Alfred won't take his eyes off him—
So, no.
He has been tracking Red Hood through reports. Residents gossiping, criminals, prostitutes.
Putting all that information together, Tim is building a profile.
The way he acts isn't like a conventional crime boss. He patrols alone.
He does have a few henchmen who patrol the territory, but they only keep watch; they don't intervene directly.
It's like a vigilante who goes after the people who are bad.
Besides that, Hood's pattern changed a few days ago.
Maybe he's adapting, getting the hang of things.
He wasn't the only one who noticed the change.
Currently, two men, probably criminals, are on the lower level of the rooftop, commenting on the change.
Tim is listening while he types.
He can do both things at the same time.
"I'm telling you, he's leaving earlier."
Man number one, Carlos, according to what Tim picked up during the conversation.
"That's just a way to throw us off. He always comes back at some point during the night."
Basically, Hood patrols randomly, at night and sometimes during the day. He never stays away for long, and he always takes some kind of break before resuming his patrol.
It's so random that criminals aren't even sure anymore when the right time is to start their activities.
"Well, it's not like he's Batman. He's not going after the little fish."
Carlos said.
That's another thing Tim noticed. Hood doesn't go hunting just anyone—low-level thefts, small drug deals, and other things.
"Yeah, and... I get it. Do you have the pistols or not?"
Tim pays closer attention.
"Uh-huh. We should stop by old John's store. Business has been good there."
Hmm.
A robbery.
He couldn't just stand there listening to this.
"What do I do?"
He couldn't simply jump into the middle of it, either. He wasn't even armed or dressed as Robin, and they were armed.
Maybe he could catch them by surprise.
Although he didn't have any Batarangs with him, he had a basic kit for any Gothamite.
He puts on a breathing mask. Great for toxin attacks, which are common in Gotham's daily life, but now it would be useful for hiding his identity.
Then he pulls up the hood of his black and dark-red sweatshirt.
He almost laughs at the thought that he looks like an independent rookie vigilante.
He doesn't have his Bo staff or grappling hook.
But he does have pepper spray and a taser.
—Judging by the sound of their voices, they're to the right. The alley below only has one exit.
He moves to the edge.
Ready to act.
Completely focused on the danger below.
—I can easily disarm one, then spray the other, then disarm him too.
Simple plan. Now he just has to execute it.
He prepares to jump.
Then a hand grabs his hood, pulling him backward.
Tim lets out a startled little squeak.
His brain is going a mile a minute.
He didn't notice the approach. That's his mistake; he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings.
Or whoever captured him is very skilled at stealth.
He almost expects it to be Bruce.
A childish wish.
Looking up, he finds the white lenses of Red Hood's own helmet.
Tall. Imposing. Massive. Threatening.
A red bat across his chest.
Tim is slightly frightened. Maybe because of the proximity, or because of the hand on his hood, so close to his neck. Too close.
He almost shudders at the sound that vibrates from the man, a distorted sound.
Like a growl.
"What are you doing here, pup?"
The voice was distorted by the sound modulator.
He observed the boy through the helmet.
He found him before he could do something stupid and get himself killed.
Gotham is full of altruistic people who think that all they have to do is put on a costume and they're heroes.
Those people end up in the grave quickly.
What bothers him is that it's a brat doing this.
Jason is certain he's a pup.
Judging by the young sound the boy made earlier.
Noticing the boy's trembling, he slowly lets him go.
He tilts his head, listening to the voices whispering below.
"What was that?"
"Shh. It came from above."
They lower their voices.
Jason pushes the boy behind him.
The pup seems a little dazed. But he recovers, moving behind one of the ventilation pipes.
—Smart. Or almost.
He touches the gun holster.
Red Hood raises his gun, looking before firing at the wall beside one of the men's heads.
Both men jump, looking up.
The color drains from their faces.
He is standing there, imposing above the small building, looking down into the alley.
Weapons in hand.
"What are you two doing?"
His tone is low and inquisitive.
They raise their hands in surrender, even though they are nervous.
"It's nothing serious, Hood. We're not messing with kids or anything like that."
Jason raises an eyebrow, even though it isn't visible.
"Is that so? Then what kind of business are you in?"
He asks.
That makes the man hesitate. His partner elbows him.
Making him continue.
"Rob a store around the corner. We were going to buy drugs with the money."
He admits.
Hood watches them.
Slightly thin. Deep dark circles under their eyes. Tense posture.
Users, huh.
"You understand, right, man? We just need a few bucks."
Jason changes his posture.
"Your names?"
He asks.
Only making the two of them tenser. They swallow hard before continuing.
"Carlos. And this is Ivan."
He looks at his partner.
Jason makes a sound, indecipherable through the modulator.
"I want both of you gone. Stay out of my sight for the rest of the night. If I catch you..."
He throws a dagger he took from his belt. It grazes Carlos's ear.
The man bends over, clutching his ear. Looking terrified.
Ivan grabs his friend's arm.
"That's just a warning."
Hood concludes.
Both slowly back away before running.
Jason watches for a few more moments.
Then he turns around to scold the boy. But he's gone.
"Damn."
He sighs, slightly irritated.
The pup disappeared.
And Jason hopes that scared him enough to keep him from doing anything reckless again.
You never know.
He touches his helmet, checking the listening device in his ear. Listening for a moment to the sound of the baby monitor.
No crying or whining. Just the baby's heavy breathing.
Hood wanted to keep patrolling, keep an eye on the idiots.
But he had to go back.
Pup. Protect. Return.
He lets out a sigh, firing his grappling hook in one direction.
Disappearing into the night.
Tim didn't watch him leave.
He was busy trying to avoid a mental breakdown and going over the information he had gathered.
The itch on his neck wasn't going away. The near experience of being grabbed wasn't pleasant.
Perhaps it made things worse that his instincts understood Red Hood as someone completely capable of making him submit.
The idea of being vulnerable was unpleasant.
It bothered him so much that he decided he wanted to go home before anything else happened.
The phantom sensation of his mother's hand gripping his shoulder gives him chills.
It's not as if this is the first time someone has grabbed him there. It shouldn't be bothering him this much.
As Robin, these risks were common. But his suit had protection around the back of his neck.
Bruce was always nearby in case something went wrong.
Maybe that was the problem, and he didn't want to admit it. He had been vulnerable for a moment that night.
If Tim curled up in his bed at the Drake mansion later, nobody needed to know.
His inner pup wanted to seek comfort from someone who would protect him.
He repressed every ounce of that feeling.
He tried to focus on adding the information he had gathered to an organized file.
A report from the night.
Red Hood.
Name: ???
Approximate age: 25–40 years old
Gender: male, possible Alpha.
Estimated height: 1.80–1.87 m
Additional data: Red Hood operates in Crime Alley and nearby areas.
He doesn't go after small-time criminals.
His patrol pattern is slowly changing for no apparent reason. People are reporting the change.
He is ending his patrols earlier.
Typing...
The laptop screen illuminates Tim's face beneath the blanket.
His eyes are fixed on the task.
His body numb.
Red Hood is a mystery. But he has a pattern, just like the bats do.
And Tim likes writing down patterns.
Despite the inconvenience and risk of the situation that night, he won't give up on the investigation.
For now, he decides to rest.
Closing the laptop and snuggling deeper into the blankets.
Only his own scent on the bed.
No pack scent. No Safety. Comfort.
It's okay. Timothy is used to this.
He convinces himself once again.
-----
During four nights of investigation, Tim absorbed Red Hood's patterns like a sponge.
No aggression toward civilians.
He doesn't kill without criteria.
He doesn't engage in direct confrontation when necessary.
He protects street children.
He leads Crime Alley.
Everything is so controversial with his identity as a crime boss that the rumors say.
Most people assume that Red Hood is just another criminal, but he isn't only that.
He seems like a protector of Crime Alley.
And Tim is worried about that.
It would be so much easier if Hood were just a villain or a maniac.
As Bruce said: "don't get emotionally involved in a mission."
Tim really tried to just analyze things rationally. But the way Hood acts reminds him so much of Robin, reminds him of Jason.
The way he protects civilians with his back.
Tim almost caught a glimpse of a yellow cape in the wind.
The way he starts taking care of the prostitutes from afar.
He cares about the people who live there. He doesn't just protect them, he cares about them.
Maybe Tim really is compromised.
Alfred says hormonal changes are common at this stage of life, and that they often affect his reasoning.
Very bad.
He started bringing his camera.
Just for evidence...
A lie.
Tim feels like when he was just a little boy, following Batman and Robin around with his camera.
Besides Hood's vigilantism, he noticed that the man has been becoming more territorial.
Very much so.
No rival criminals too close to Crime Alley, not allowing gang activities to continue for too long.
The residents say Hood is like an Alpha, possessive of his territory.
It really does seem that way.
His protection of the Alley could be justified as possessiveness.
From the experiences Tim has had with Alphas from different social circles, he admits that they all have a pattern.
Even Dick is possessive. Although that's not the right term. Far too shallow to describe the complexity of Alphas.
Despite that, more and more, Tim has been associating Red Hood with a Beta or Omega.
It makes him think of Batman.
This recent restlessness during patrols. The more frequent pauses.
As if something were wrong.
Not with Red Hood, but with the man underneath the armor.
Tim is sitting underneath a gargoyle. One of the few still intact in Crime Alley.
The angle gave him a good view of the alley below.
It was a place where Tim sometimes managed to catch the second Robin sitting when Jason needed some time to himself.
Where sometimes the older pup hid from Bruce to smoke.
A habit Tim picked up from watching him so much.
Not the smoking part.
The one time he tried...
He thinks about the past.
His face was flushed from the cold of Gotham. A long night of chasing after the bats.
Little Tim had gotten himself in the middle of a drug deal, and now two men were following him.
He stopped to get his bearings.
A woman who was standing on the corner noticed him.
"Rough night, kid?"
Tim had nodded.
She gestured for him to come closer.
He frowned. Knowing he shouldn't trust strangers.
But she didn't smell like danger. A calm Beta.
That was enough for now.
The Beta hid him while the men passed by.
"You don't look like you're from around here, little one."
Tim nodded.
She offered him a cigarette. It seemed polite to accept.
He went after the details after saying goodbye. Sitting on a distant rooftop.
He didn't have a lighter.
He almost fell off the roof when a young voice spoke behind him.
"No luck?"
Robin.
The young vigilante was as bright as ever.
Tim blushed, not knowing how to react. He admired Robin so much.
To his surprise. The young vigilante sat down beside him and offered the flame of a lighter.
"You don't look like you're from around here. Your clothes look pretty expensive."
Tim accepted the flame. Imitating Robin, who lit a cigarette for himself.
The smoke filled his lungs. Nicotine to relax.
He just wanted to stay with Robin a little longer.
Even though Tim said nothing, Robin filled the silence.
"You know, I don't know what brought you up here trying to smoke for the first time. But I don't think you should force yourself."
The boy blinked, shocked that Robin somehow knew even that.
But he listened.
"Smoking is addictive. I know you know that. In the end, the choice is yours."
Maybe it sounded a little hypocritical coming from someone who was smoking at that very moment.
But Tim slowly lowered the cigarette.
"I don't know how people like this. I prefer coffee."
He muttered.
That made Robin burst into laughter.
"Seriously, kid? Replacing one addiction with another."
The two pups stayed up there until the young vigilante's cigarette burned out.
The memory still hurts.
Tim, sitting on a gargoyle, thinks about Robin.
He saw the damage Jason's death caused to the members of the family.
Tim himself mourned far too much. He was his hero, his Robin.
Noticing little patterns of Jason in Red Hood has left him melancholic.
—I'm compromised. I'll hand the report over to Bruce, he can continue.
It's a little frustrating to abandon an investigation halfway through. But he knows that at least Bruce will let him watch from afar after seeing his effort.
He waits.
Then he heard the sound of boots landing on the rooftop right behind the gargoyle.
"...Shit..."
The modified voice.
Red Hood.
Tim holds his breath.
"...pup?"
That makes him freeze in place.
He hears a click, like a lock being opened.
A small checking call is heard.
Hood took off his helmet so the sound could come out normally.
Tim covers his mouth. His inner pup almost whined at the call of an adult.
Is Hood talking to him?
"...I'm already going... shh."
He wriggles underneath the gargoyle.
The sound of a grappling hook being fired finally makes him calm down.
As he always does when nervous, Tim begins cataloging things.
Hood had a young voice, he didn't sound like someone in their thirties, despite the raspiness. His voice lowered in an attentive and pleasant way when speaking to the other person on the other end of the line.
The attentive way that made Tim's stomach twist.
Whenever he was around an attentive adult, he reacted like this.
Biologically speaking, pups are drawn to care.
He hates how Bruce can make him obey with just a few growls.
Tim hugs his knees even tighter.
"My God..."
The realization comes like a truck and crashes into a wall.
Red Hood may have a pup.
A young father, in his twenties. Taking care of a pup, perhaps his son.
The concern in his voice makes him think of Bruce.
Like when Dick gets sick and Bruce becomes agitated. When Jason was still Robin, and Tim watched Batman become more territorial and aggressive, more intense.
The need to return to his pups.
Tim swallows hard.
He thinks about Hood's actions. Now they seem as clear as day.
Red Hood is changing his patrol patterns because he needs to return to his pup.
He disappears at certain times. He probably has caregiving schedules.
He doesn't stay away for long.
Tim begins to reinterpret everything.
Abandoning the investigation no longer seems like an option...
Now, Tim is completely curious.
He wants to understand Red Hood.
His motivations.
Why become a crime boss?
Is it just to protect his pup?
He climbed down from the gargoyle.
There were new additions to his report.
Bruce would have to wait a little longer before receiving the file.
Tim has an investigation to continue.
This shouldn't excite him so much, but the pup is practically vibrating with excitement.
He lands softly on the rooftop.
His body is heavy, even so, silent when he wants it to be.
He goes through all the security systems before opening the window to the apartment. His apartment.
Looking around, his room seems normal. He checks twice to make sure.
Raising his hands, he unlocks the helmet. Immediately sniffing the air around him.
Safe.
Jason wrinkles his nose at the smell of his own sweat. But the shower can wait.
He partially removes the suit. Tossing the helmet onto the bed.
Then he heads to the room next door.
Opening the door, he is hit by the strong smell of the room.
Sour milk. Sick pup. Bad.
He enters the room, approaching the crib.
In the crib, the baby was curled up, lightly sweating, his little face red.
"Damian. I'm here."
He calls softly.
The brat lets out a grunt, sniffing the air. Not opening his eyes. Just making a little sound of recognition.
Jason takes off his gloves before touching him.
His nape is warm. His little face too.
—It got worse since yesterday.
It all started with a few light sneezes when they arrived in Gotham.
His mistake was not worrying right away. Children, especially babies, are pretty snotty.
So this week the sneezing started getting worse. Then the runny nose, and now a slight fever.
Jason tried to take care of the boy. Giving him chicken broth, tea, and other things.
He wasn't really sure which medications a baby could take. So he didn't risk it.
He was just following the things Alfred did whenever one of them got sick.
Broth. Liquids. Rest.
The problem was that Alfred always knew what he was doing.
Jason was just imitating him.
He had to keep changing his patrol schedule throughout the week.
Every time he left the apartment, his instincts screamed loudly.
Pup. Come back. Protect.
Watching Damian get worse has been stressing him out. A lot.
Poorly slept nights. Constant anxiety.
And, as Jason noticed, some changes in his own behavior.
Damian has been refusing formula.
That was the last straw.
He looks at the curled-up boy.
"Tomorrow, I promise."
Picking up the baby with both hands, he protects him against his chest.
Breathing deeply. Rubbing his face against the boy's soft hair.
He didn't actually go to Leslie when he arrived in Gotham.
So many things had been added to his list that he ended up forgetting.
He was a little afraid of the reunion. But he has to go soon.
The idea of Damian getting worse is tearing his chest apart.
Safe. Protect. Pup.
Jason remembers to stay calm. For the brat's sake.
Putting the baby back in the crib. He returns to his own room, going to the bathroom to take a shower.
Trying to relax a little.
Hot water runs down his body.
No injuries today.
He has been careful not to hurt himself or come home smelling like blood.
Not after he realized that it bothers Damian and puts him on alert.
Dividing his patrol time with the responsibility of taking care of his little brother has been difficult.
But it isn't impossible.
He has been adapting well. The problem was this week, the unexpected situation.
Jason feels overwhelmed.
His body does too.
Maybe because of his recent secondary-gender presentation. He is still getting used to his Omega side, with the changes.
He doesn't even know what's normal for an Omega.
He's feeling discomfort in his chest.
And when Damian started rejecting formula, that discomfort only tripled.
The stress and worry about the boy are really making his body react.
They say hair turns white from stress.
Jason runs a hand through his wet hair. Letting out a sigh.
His other hand rises and rubs his chest. Worried.
He'll ask Leslie. Even if it's a little embarrassing to talk about anything happening with his body.
The conversation he had with Talia about his secondary gender wasn't the best initiative.
He gets out of the shower after a few extra minutes.
As he dries himself.
He looks at his bed. Simple. Organized.
He can't sleep well. Nothing seems comfortable.
So he turns around to get the pup. Damian snuggles against him.
Wrapping the baby in a blanket, he lies down, looking at the small bundle in his arms.
"Habibi. Let me see your eyes."
He asks.
He knows he's bothering the brat for no reason.
But when Damian opens his eyes, revealing that expanse of green, slightly teary with sleep.
Something inside Jason calms down.
"There. Akhi is here... rest."
He murmurs.
His chest vibrates slowly. Like a purr.
This is new. But he simply adds it to his new list of discoveries.
He doesn't know if it's really a purr, but Damian likes it.
The boy snuggles even closer.
Good. Safe. Protect.
The next morning.
Jason prepares to leave with the boy.
Since they arrived in Gotham, they haven't left the apartment much.
At first, he was a little paranoid about leaving the safe place for too long.
Even though they were far from the League, that didn't mean they were completely safe.
He knows he's being ridiculously protective. Completely blame his instincts for that.
Jason puts the wine-colored sling over his shoulder, Damian pressed closely against him.
—Fuck fragile masculinity.
He huffs.
He had already seen some people using these. Like a kangaroo mother.
Practical and useful.
It leaves his hands free.
Even though he wants to put an extra-strong scent blocker on his neck, Damian is very sensitive to changes in smells.
Taking away the only familiar thing while they're outside isn't smart.
To work around the situation, Jason wears a sweater that covers his neck. And a cap to cover his face.
He doesn't want to get caught on camera.
One thing Jason has already learned is that you shouldn't walk around without a bag when you have a baby.
He looks at himself in the mirror. He looks like a young father out for a Sunday walk.
Ridiculous.
"I just don't put a huge sign on your back saying: 'we're brothers' because that draws too much attention."
He sighs.
Damian grunts. Obviously not caring about anything.
"Yeah, let's go."
He opens the front door.
His way to the clinic is short enough that he can walk instead of using some kind of transportation.
In Crime Alley, it's also not reliable to use an Uber or taxi.
It's a way to get kidnapped.
Public transportation is nonexistent in that area.
So, without many options, he walks.
Attentive to his surroundings.
Changing routes a few times whenever he feels uncomfortable.
One thing is clear: he's going to attract attention wherever he goes.
Normally, when people see a big guy, they avoid looking.
But when they see an Omega with this body, curiosity increases.
Add a pup to the equation and they stare a little longer, trying to understand the situation.
Jason hates it.
Ignoring it isn't enough.
A piercing look works. Most of the time.
Incredibly, the ones who look at him the most are Omegas.
Funny, being judged by the same group he's supposed to be a part of.
Jason pulls his cap down slightly.
He finally reaches the clinic.
There isn't much movement because it's morning on a Thursday.
The place gets busy when night falls.
He enters cautiously. Feeling like a sheep walking into a wolf's den.
He avoids looking at people. Looking around for cameras.
None apparent.
Leslie Thompkins always values her patients' privacy. Not even Batman can come here to interrogate her patients.
The clinic has always been a neutral place.
It seems that hasn't changed.
Jason allows himself to analyze the changes in the place more calmly.
It seems better structured.
He goes to the front desk.
There is a woman, a Beta, as the receptionist.
"Hello, good morning."
He simply nods.
"Do you have an appointment?"
He shakes his head.
"Very well, I need you to fill out this form here and wait."
The woman smiles at him.
"Thank you."
He takes the clipboard and goes to fill it out.
Finding a place to sit was strategic.
Close to the door. Keeping an eye on all exits and weak points.
He doesn't like the smell of antiseptic and cleaning products. Much less the smell of people.
Sick. Injured. Worried. Irritated and much more.
He focuses only on filling out the form.
Guardian's name. Patient's name.
Jason Bennet. Damian Bennet.
Ages.
Twenty-one. One year and eight months.
Gender. Omega. Pup not presented.
Blood type. Jason doesn't know the brat's blood type.
Relationship: brothers.
Patient's condition.
Jason finishes filling out the form. Returning the pen and clipboard to the woman.
The wait was a little boring.
Another Omega who was with his partner tried to make conversation.
But he wasn't interested in small talk.
Maybe he was being pretty rude. But Jason really isn't in a good mood.
His name is soon called.
He takes a deep breath.
—Alright, and about Damian, this is...
He walks uncomfortably toward the examination room.
Then knocks lightly on the door.
"Come in."
The woman's soft voice calls to him.
Jason pulls his cap down a little further.
Entering the room.
He feels Leslie’s assessing gaze.
She observes the young omega in front of her.
She admits that he was not exactly what she expected.
She has seen many omegas in her clinic. But none quite so different.
Tall. Sturdy.
If it weren’t for the form and the omega scent, she could easily have mistaken him for a Beta or Alpha.
Leslie notices the caution in the way the young man carries himself.
Again, she is already used to this behavior from her patients.
Observing and analyzing her patients is part of her profession. At the moment, her patient and the child in the omega’s arms.
"Jason and Damian, right?"
The young man nods.
She begins moving around the room.
"You can sit in the chair. Then, tell me what’s going on with your brother."
She has already read the form. But she needs more context.
She does not want to pry into her patients’ lives, but she still needs information.
Leslie notices how he hesitates for a moment before beginning to speak.
Jason thought of a background story for both of them.
Not too far from the truth.
He was from Gotham, his parents were separated, and he went to live with his mother, who was not from Gotham. They were staying with their mother, so because of some family problems, he had to return to Gotham with Damian. Until then, he had not had much contact with the boy.
He also reports the boy’s symptoms. He is almost certain it is the flu.
The Beta analyzes the information for a moment.
"Since I cannot say for certain, a combination of factors may have contributed to your brother getting sick. But based on what I can assume."
She pauses.
"Your stress from the changes, being away from his pack, and the change in environment affected the pup a little."
That hits Jason like a stone.
Jason lets out a small, upset sound.
Now he feels guilty.
—It’s not like I chose to take the kid away. It’s not my fault.
He thinks.
But his instincts seem to disagree.
Leslie notices the change in the boy’s posture.
She feels empathy.
The young man did not even know he had a brother until yesterday, had to leave home on his own, without his pack as support, was struggling to take care of his brother, and that had led to stress.
"This is normal, Jason. Pups take time to adapt. At this stage, they react more strongly to the state of their caregivers."
That seemed to calm the young man a little.
The Beta gestures for him to place the baby on the examination table.
The omega hesitates again.
Leslie understands. His instincts are speaking louder.
She makes an encouraging sound. The same one she uses with reluctant patients.
He gives in, placing the boy on the examination table.
The pup whines, making a little frown. Irritated by the lack of contact.
Leslie smiles.
He looks like an annoyed kitten.
"Hello, Damian. I’m Dr. Thompkins. I’m going to examine you, little one. Your brother is right here."
The boy tilts his head. Looking at her face, serious.
From the corner of her eye, she notices Jason, a little restless.
The Beta is careful while examining the pup. Letting the older brother watch.
Talking through what she is doing during the process.
She checks his temperature.
How his reflexes are.
Many other things.
"Very well, now I need you to turn around. I need to see the back of your neck."
Damian does so. Still exchanging glances with his brother just to make sure.
Jason watches attentively.
Leslie slightly furrows her brow.
"When was the last time your mother marked you?"
The question is directed at the pup.
He seems intelligent enough to answer.
Marking bites are quite common for strengthening pack bonds.
She finds no sign that the skin at the base of his neck has been lightly bitten, either recently or in the past.
Damian does not seem to have an answer.
Not good. She does not show her concern, returning to the examination.
Thus, finishing.
Jason picks his brother up.
Leslie sits down in front of her desk. Typing on the computer and writing something on a piece of paper.
"He has a common cold. For now, I’ll prescribe some medication, along with vitamin D. You can pick them up from the receptionist."
She continues typing.
Jason can hear an unspoken 'But.'
"Besides the cold, there are a few points I want to emphasize."
He straightens his posture in the chair.
"I’ll be honest with you, Jason. This child already has all the support from his brother, and he seems to like you as well. But love alone isn’t enough. He needs a biological confirmation."
She lightly taps her fingers against the desk.
"His symptoms are common in pups from the streets, without parents or a responsible adult. The constant sleep and rejection of formula are a physiological reaction to a lack of hormonal balance."
Jason swallows hard. Adjusting the pup in his arms.
Leslie may seem harsh. But he knows she is worried.
The Beta continues.
"I don’t know how you’re going to move forward from here, whether you’re going to raise him or not. But this pup needs a physical bond. He has no pack bonds."
Her words cut like a blade.
Jason is a little shocked and irritated.
He knows Talia did not want to place him in a pack.
But he did not expect Damian to have no connections. No bonds.
—Her own pup! Even Bruce marked me, and I wasn’t even his biological son.
Jason is certain that Bruce would accept the pup. He would not even hesitate to take him in.
He pulls Damian closer to himself.
He had never stopped to check whether the back of the kid’s neck was irritated.
He simply assumed he was fine.
How was he supposed to know? It was not a pup’s responsibility to check scent markings. A month ago, he had been one of them.
Once again, Jason bitterly regrets his shallow knowledge of biology.
"I always hold the back of his neck. I never tried to bite him. I just thought he didn’t need it since he already had a pack."
He speaks quietly.
Leslie looks at him without reacting.
Jason has proven to be a puzzle with far too many complicated pieces.
The way he speaks makes it sound like he is not part of the same pack as Damian. Or their mother’s.
Maybe their relationship is not exactly close.
She shakes her head.
"These little touches have been good, but they won’t work long-term without complications. And what they normally do in orphanages and shelters is only a temporary solution."
Jason looks at Damian again.
For a month, he has been ignoring the fact that he needs to make a decision soon.
He wants to get rid of the Joker first. Confront Bruce, make sure he will be the best for Damian.
On the other hand, he does not think about raising Damian. He knows there is no way he can remain Red Hood and raise a child.
He bites his lip.
Leslie seems to understand his discomfort.
"You don’t have to make that decision now. The method you’ve been using is working. You still have time, but remember that this still affects the boy."
Jason takes a deep breath.
He will think about it. He will figure something out.
"Since Damian is already quite big, don’t worry about the milk. He can eat other things."
Jason nods.
"Now, the issue of him being so sleepy is caused by you, Jason. Specifically, your pheromones."
That catches him off guard for a moment.
But considering Damian has always reacted to his pheromones, it is not exactly a huge revelation.
He nods.
Leslie looks at him.
"I’d like to know how you’ve been adjusting to these changes in your life. Any symptoms I should know about?"
The Beta watches the young man hesitate again. Adjusting the pup in his arms.
Many omegas do not like opening up about their bodies. Mainly because of embarrassment over things they do not understand.
She has had enough patients to know this. But, to her surprise, Jason is actually different.
"A month and a half, since I started taking care of Damian, my body has been tingling. I don’t know if that’s normal. It only intensified when he got sick."
Short. Honest.
He touches his chest with his free hand.
"Here. Mainly. I don’t know if it’s normal... I didn’t have a good education."
Leslie raises an eyebrow.
Curious. She admits it.
—He hesitates when it’s something related to his brother. But when it’s about himself, he doesn’t have the same reservations.
So, his situation.
She twirls the pen between her fingers, thoughtful.
"I have many hypotheses. Stress, as I said before, and adapting to being responsible for caring for a pup. It’s difficult to say without an examination."
The young man nods again.
Now calmer.
"You seem young. Have you had a pup before?"
He shakes his head.
"That makes it a little more difficult. I’d say you’re going through a phase of activation of your mammary glands. Many adult omegas, whether parents or not, adapt to the needs of dependent pups. But this usually takes time."
She watches the movements of her own hands.
"Not without a major hormonal stimulus. When was your last fertile heat? Does it directly line up with the period when you started taking care of Damian?"
She already has a few hypotheses. It is not such a rare case if that is what is happening.
She raises her gaze.
Coming face-to-face with the young man looking directly at her, his cap no longer completely covering his eyes.
It was like seeing a ghost.
Jason. The young man seems not to notice her discomfort.
His face is slightly flushed.
"I-I haven’t had... Hm. A fertile heat yet."
He lowers his cap a little more.
He seems so sincere and innocent that Leslie almost loses herself in that reaction.
She swallows hard. Trying not to focus on ghosts from the past.
What he said was shocking as well.
With someone so large, his hormones should be absurd.
The Beta did not expect such a twist.
The coincidence was so great that she found it ironic.
What were the odds?
A Jason. More or less in the age range the boy would have been if he were alive, similar faces, the same condition of delayed presentation.
Leslie takes a deep breath to calm herself.
Fate sometimes plays games with people.
Jason is feeling uncomfortable with the conversation.
Thankful that it is Leslie. At least there is a professional distance here.
He is not sure he could ever have a conversation like this with Alfred, or, God forbid, Bruce.
Everyone knows Bruce is a terrible example of an omega. Especially when it comes to giving such... intimate advice.
Jason is not ashamed of being an omega, but that does not make the conversation any easier. It is still his body.
He looks away toward Damian.
The boy is cuddled against his chest. Drooling slightly as he sleeps.
He strokes the back of the kid’s neck. This time, more intentionally.
Leslie speaks again.
"So, when was your presentation?"
She asks more gently.
Something has changed in her tone. He is not sure he likes it.
"Two months ago. I’m still adjusting."
Leslie seems somewhat surprised again.
He avoids smiling. He has seen that expression on her face so many times before.
But before, it was more out of concern for his nighttime activities as Robin, where every now and then he would end up taking himself to Dr. Thompkins.
"Well, that is extremely recent. As I said, I can’t say that alone is responsible for the itching. But it is a possibility."
Jason slightly furrows his brow.
"So I might produce milk?"
It is even a little strange hearing that question come out of his mouth.
He wonders what paths his life took for him to present as an omega.
He expected... nothing.
"Maybe. It’s not certain. Like I said, only an examination can tell us."
She drives the point home again.
Despite the reunion being quite welcome, he absolutely does not want to be in Leslie’s clutches.
—Or have her see the autopsy scar.
He swallows hard.
"I understand. I’ll keep you updated on Damian’s condition. Thank you for your time, Dr. Thompkins."
He adjusts the sling.
The Beta sighs.
She was willing not to pressure him.
Good. He did not want to have to run out of the room.
Leslie offers him the papers, which he promptly takes.
Something else comes with them. Her clinic card.
He wonders when she managed to take the object.
—Great observational training. Talia would make me dodge countless knives if she knew.
He puts it in his pocket anyway.
"Don’t forget to take care of yourself, Jason. Your well-being affects your brother too."
He does not look back as he leaves the room.
Maybe he is scared after all.
Leslie watched the young man leave.
She really did end up scaring him by the end of the appointment.
She hopes he comes back at some point, but if he is that similar to a certain little boy.
Perhaps it will take him a while to show up again.
She sighed.
—Now that I think about it, isn’t Bennet the name of a book character?
Unexpectedly, that causes her to let out a restrained laugh.
"Oh, Jason. Why not choose something less obvious?"
Dr. Thompkins stands up.
There are other patients to see today.
That improves her mood.
----
Getting home was something else.
Jason barely noticed the time passing. He took care of Damian all day, and that has been his life ever since he started taking care of the boy.
This illness was here to prove his abilities when it came to taking care of a child.
The brat is even more spoiled because of the illness. Whining and irritated.
Night soon arrives.
Jason is exhausted. Damian’s fever has gone down. The baby has already eaten something, taken a bath, and has a clean diaper.
But any mention of leaving the boy in the crib is met with whimpers and nonverbal complaints.
"Brat. What is this? Did you turn into a skunk baby?"
He was clingy.
Jason wanted to patrol!
There is a long night ahead.
But Damian seems to have other plans.
He sighed, sitting down on the bed.
He was tired. Not physically. But exhausted.
The appointment with Leslie was a bomb. Helping to bring down his internal defenses.
In moments like these, negative thoughts come to mind.
If he simply left him with Bruce...
He shook his head.
—He just needs the brat to let go.
Thinking about Leslie’s words and the knowledge he had acquired, he formulates a plan, a way out of this situation.
—My scent affects the kid, right?
He swallows his pride.
Yes, he is really going to do this.
"Fuck Talia. I don’t need her stupid blankets."
He grumbles, picking up the blankets with one hand.
The bed smells like him.
He does not want Damian to fall while he is alone. So pillows are added.
It still does not look right.
He comes back with some clothes. Add some color, that’s all.
Why doesn’t it make sense, and he does not want to think about it.
After finishing, Jason expects a feeling of triumph and pride in his work.
"It looks like shit."
He wants to destroy everything he made.
"It’ll have to do."
Lying down with Damian, he wraps the boy up.
He sniffs his hair.
He feels a rush of euphoria. Wanting to completely cover the pup with his scent.
He takes a deep breath.
By the end, the boy’s hair was completely messy.
Damian was giving off a very pleasant mixture of scents, almost convincing Jason to stay...
But no. He slowly lets go of the boy.
The pup was already asleep and did not whine.
He seemed completely comfortable.
Jason moves away. Watching.
He places the baby monitor on the nightstand.
He had modified the device to be on the same frequency as his listening device.
It could not be seen, but it was useful for listening. Just as he has been doing every time he patrols.
He puts on his suit. Checking on the boy a few more times.
Then, finally, he leaves into the night.
He needs to clear his head and think away from Damian.