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Dick Grayson’s cell phone chimed with a text alert. He grinned down to see ‘Baby Bird’ had texted him. Things were still a little rough with Timothy Drake-Wayne following Dick taking away the Robin mantle. He didn’t want to even imagine how much more awful things would be if he hadn’t taken Tim aside and explained himself.
Even with the explanation, all this time later, Dick could see the twist of pain on Tim’s face when Damian Wayne wore the Robin uniform. It was the same twist of pain all the former Robins got when they looked upon bright colors and remembered what it was like to be magic.
However, Tim was supposed to be in San Francisco with the Titans, so Dick hoped there wasn’t an emergency.
“Please, please don’t be a world-ending emergency,” Dick muttered.
He had special plans for tonight. It was his and Jason’s anniversary. One year ago today, Dick had finally proven to Jason that he would love and cherish him forever. It hadn’t been easy. Jason wasn’t the kind of Omega who would roll over and give it up; he was the kind of Omega that had to be won over.
At one point, Dick had almost stopped pursuing him. He was heart-sore at all the failures in his efforts to win over the only Omega he ever wanted to keep.
The words, “I’ll stop bothering you, Jay,” sat on his tongue for three weeks, unspoken.
Then the Red Hood had stepped in front of a bullet for him, and Dick realized he was a hell of a lot closer to achieving his dream than he had thought.
Dick had never felt more powerful than when Jason had bared his neck and accepted Dick as his mate. He couldn’t imagine ever feeling more powerful, not even upon the birth of their eventual pups.
And Dick wanted to relive that commitment on their anniversary by renewing the mating bite.
“My precious Omega.”
He shivered just remembering the way Jason had stayed so still and obedient for him as Dick’s teeth imprinted his claim in Jason’s skin for everyone to see. Jason was rarely ever obedient and submissive like that; Dick treasured the memory. It proved that Dick had earned the trust he had almost irreparably destroyed by ignoring Jason when he was younger.
“What do you need, Baby Bird?” Dick asked as he swiped open his phone to read the text.
Baby Bird (12:37 p.m.) Dick, WTH did you do?!
Before Dick could respond, heart jumping into his throat at such an uncharacteristic message from Tim, the three little dots appeared and bounced as Tim typed another message.
Then a link appeared in the chat, followed by two words in all caps: FIX IT!
Dick clicked the link.
His hands shook as it opened to Jason Grayson-Wayne’s Instagram account. Jason almost never used the thing; he thought social media was pointless. So when he did use it, it was to make a very, very pointed point.
Dick scrolled down.
The picture was of Jason in a little cafe, a mug of coffee before him. That wasn’t what had Dick’s heart speeding so fast he thought it might pop right out of his chest. Jason was wearing an oversized sweater; it was Nightwing blue and had a collar so high that even though Jason had taken the picture with the forward-facing camera angled downward, you couldn’t see any of his neck, let alone the mating bite.
It didn’t have a tagline. It didn’t need one.
Anyone who knew Jason at all would know exactly what it meant. Jason was an Omega, wearing his Alpha’s colors to cover up his Alpha’s visible claim. He couldn’t make it any more obvious to anyone who knew them that Dick had screwed up royally.
Dick’s phone chimed again.
Baby Bird (12:43 p.m.) Seriously, though, what did you do? You couldn’t have screwed up your first anniversary yesterday that badly. Not even you’re that much of a dick, Dick.
The phone fell from Dick’s hands onto the sidewalk, slipping right through his suddenly numb fingers. No! He had been working overtime on a case, yes, but he hadn’t actually lost an entire day, had he? Had he really missed their anniversary yesterday? And Jason hadn’t said a single thing when Dick stumbled in from work exhausted and passed out on the couch.
Cracking glass jarred him back to attention. He grabbed his phone off the sidewalk, ignoring the spider web of cracks as he swiped desperately for the calendar app.
Oh. Oh no.
What was he supposed to do? How could he possibly make this up to Jason? After everything Dick had gone through in the first place to prove that he was sincere ... and he couldn’t even keep the days straight. Jason must think Dick had either forgotten their anniversary or didn’t care enough to celebrate it, now that he had the Omega already claimed and marked as his.
“No!”
He didn’t mean to forget! He had been planning their anniversary for almost two months now! Dick wasn’t one of those Alphas who viewed mating as “winning” and thought there was no need to put in care and effort afterwards. Jason meant everything to him.
And Jason always believed actions over words.
Dick could only imagine how Jason was feeling, but used and overlooked would probably be fair guesses.
The cafe Jason had taken the photo in wasn’t too far. Dick ran the entire way. He had to make this right; he couldn’t let Jason think on it too long, because he would hate for the idea that their mating wasn’t important to Dick to settle as fact in Jason’s head.
“Why did I think it was a good idea to sneak out early?” Dick snarled with frustration.
He had slipped out of bed without waking Jason to finalize some plans and hadn’t been back to their penthouse apartment since. Dick didn’t even want to imagine what Jason thought of waking up alone after Dick blew off their anniversary the day before.
The bell smacked against the glass door so hard when Dick yanked it open that he worried for a moment it might break the glass. Thankfully, it didn’t. Everyone looked up at Dick’s violent entrance into the cafe — everyone but Jason.
Jason sat at a two-seater cafe table, his feet up on the opposite chair. His face was pointedly buried in a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice. And he didn’t look up, even though Dick’s Alpha-scent was so stressed that he could smell it himself.
A few of the nearest patrons politely covered their noses.
Dick tried to reel it in and regain control, but it slipped through his grasp further every second that Jason pretended he didn’t exist. The whole cafe smelled overwhelmingly of guilt-regret; it was almost so strong that he could choke on it.
He walked over to Jason’s table and stood at his elbow. Jason didn’t even so much as deign to look at Dick out of the corner of his eye.
“Jason?” he tried tentatively.
Jason slowly turned the page in his book and kept reading, as if he had no idea what the outcome was and was desperate to find out as soon as possible. Did Miss Elizabeth Bennet accept Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy’s mating bite? Did they have pups? What happened?
“Um, Mr. Grayson, can I get you anything?”
Finally looking up from his book, Jason smiled kindly at the waitress and said, “Dick would love a whole-grain wheat substitute gluten-free bagel and a cup of Hibiscus tea.”
Dick bit his tongue. Oh, wow, Jason was pissed. He had expected it, of course, but he hadn’t realized exactly how much his stupid mistake had hurt Jason until right now. Because when Jason was pissed off, well and truly and justifiably angry with someone, he got petty as hell.
Hibiscus tea was disgustingly sour; Dick hated sour things. And, really, was there anything in the world more cruel than gluten-free bread or pasta? It tasted — Dick shuddered.
“I’ll be right back with that. Did you want anything else, Mr. Grayson-Wayne?” she asked.
Jason smiled the charming media smile Bruce had forced them all to learn and said, “Please call me Mr. Wayne. It’s less confusing given the circumstances.”
The words hit Dick like a knife to the chest.
“And thank you, but I already have everything I need right here.”
“You’re welcome!” the girl said, her beta scent happy-awed as she stared at Jason’s smile. “I’ll be right back with Mr. Grayson’s order.”
Jason had never denied Dick’s last name as his own before — not since their mating. It was a hellacious kind of agony. It wasn’t the same thing as saying Dick wasn’t his Alpha mate, but … it felt like it.
He smothered the agony-grief before it could overtake the guilt-regret, not wanting to broadcast exactly how much that hurt to someone who might be looking to sell their drama to the tabloids. Waynes were always newsworthy, even if they weren’t doing anything. Dick couldn’t chance being the morning headline tomorrow; Jason hated being in the tabloids.
The case hadn’t been, could never be, as important as Jason was. Dick felt awful that he had gotten so caught up in it that he had missed something so important.
But the worst part of standing right at Jason’s side and being ignored was that he couldn’t smell Jason at all. Jason was wearing scent-blocking patches in public, even though he knew how antsy it made Dick to not be able to scent how his mate was feeling.
“Here’s your order!” the waitress said, offering a small tray to Dick.
Dick forced a smile on his face and said “Thank you!” before accepting it. Jason would just get more angry if Dick was rude to the waitress. Jason had feelings about people who were entitled jerks to customer service workers.
“Can I sit here, please?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Dick regretted them.
Because a moment later, a smirk curled the edges of Jason’s lips as he asked, “I don’t know. Can you?”
Dick took a deep breath and struggled to hold onto his temper. He reminded himself that this wasn’t anything in comparison to forgetting their mating anniversary. Especially not for an Omega of Jason’s quality, who had difficulty trusting any Alphas after what he had been witness to in Crime Alley, and later in Gotham and other places as Robin.
Jason was rightfully upset. Dick had to remember that.
“May I please sit with you?” Dick asked.
Sniffing, Jason turned another page. “It’s a public cafe. I don’t own it.”
He didn’t take his feet off the second chair.
Cheeks red with embarrassment, because Dick wouldn’t be at all surprised if one of the patrons was filming the whole thing to sell to a tabloid later, Dick dragged a chair over from the nearest empty table after setting his tray down; it shrieked shrilly the entire way.
Dick sat down, hunched his shoulders, and began tearing the gluten-free bagel into bird-feed-sized bits. “I’m sorry.”
“Hmm.” Jason turned another page. “Did you say something?”
Dick smashed the quarter of the bagel he hadn’t shredded into a tight ball in his fist. He tried to tamp down on his Alpha-aura when it flared, but then gave up. Maybe it would help his case if Jason could scent exactly how awful Dick felt.
He felt a flicker of hope when Jason’s nostrils flared.
“I had it all planned out. I didn’t forget; I lost track of the days because of the” — Dick side-eyed the nearest table of teenage girls who looked much too invested in eavesdropping — “Night Shift I had. But I had it all planned out, Jason. And I swear to you I will never lose track again,” Dick whispered.
Jason took a sip of what smelled like truly amazing tea, which, come to think of it, was odd. Jason only ever drank tea when he felt like he had done something wrong, a leftover habit of childhood chats with Alfred Pennyworth.
When Jason needed comforting he tended toward hot chocolate — the more chocolaty, the better.
So why—?
“Oh?”
The quiet word jarred Dick out of his train of thought, even as it niggled in the back of his mind. He grimaced and fiddled with the handle of his tea cup, not even pretending to drink it.
How had he forgotten their anniversary? How?
It was almost like a day had flat-out vanished from existence. But that didn’t make any more sense than him forgetting their anniversary!
Why hadn’t Jason mentioned it yesterday? Why hadn’t anyone sent them a congratulations text? He hadn’t even received a “Congratulations on tolerating each other for a year. I wager you will fail to do it again!” message from Damian Wayne, the lovable little brat.
Jason turned another page and glanced at Dick over the top of his book. Were his hands shaking? Why were Jason’s shoulders curling like they did when he screwed up big time and knew it? This wasn’t Jason’s fault.
Maybe he felt bad for not mentioning it? For assuming that Dick would have something planned and not planning anything himself?
“Alfred was going to make the same meal you had the very first night Bruce brought you home. And I was going to take you for a drive up the coast, so we could get away from the light pollution. I bought five sherpa blankets and put them in the trunk of the BMW so you could build a little nest for us to cuddle in and watch the stars, like we did on our first date. I swear, Jason, I didn’t forget on purpose.”
His eyes stung. He hated that he had hurt Jason in such a way. Dick had promised himself that he would never hurt Jason.
“I ... I can’t do this,” Jason whispered, fisting his hands around the cuffs of his sleeves. “Don’t cry, Dick. I’m sorry. Hell, I’m so sorry.”
“What do you mean?” Dick asked, even as pieces and observations started to fall into place.
Jason kept his eyes averted as he reached up and peeled the scent-blocking patches off his neck. He smelled so powerfully of guilt that Dick flinched.
“Demon Brat was bragging about knowing your super secret plans for our anniversary. He bet me that I couldn’t get them out of you no matter what I tried. So I asked Timbit to hack your phone and change the date, and delay incoming texts from anyone but him or me. He agreed to help me in exchange for a Star Wars marathon.”
“You—”
Dick’s mouth flapped open and closed repeatedly as the final pieces clicked into place and he processed the new information. He hadn’t screwed it all up. It was their anniversary today as he had originally believed.
And Jason had … Jason had—
“You ordered me a gluten-free bagel and Hibiscus tea!” Dick hissed.
Because that, of everything, was the worst offense. That was taking the desire to win a bat-bet too far. Each of them hoarded their wins: an open-ended favor. Dick had certainly cheated in the past to be named the victor.
And while Dick would definitely prefer not to have spent the past twenty minutes terrified and guilt-ridden, he was the one who had asked everyone else in the family to do whatever was necessary to beat Damian in a bat-bet. Because they cashed their favors in to get Damian to socialize and go out with them and spend time with them, so he would eventually realize that he didn’t have to replace anyone, that there was room for everyone.
Including Damian.
They weren’t like Talia al Ghul and the League of Assassins. They were never going to send Damian away. Dick knew they were all determined to make Damian believe that, one won bat-bet at a time.
Jason stared at him with wide, stunned eyes. And then he laughed, loud and deep and booming. Delighted-joy overtook the cafe, smothering every other scent. Jason laughed so hard that his shoulders shook and tears spilled down his face.
All Dick could do was stare.
Because Jason was always stunning, but he was never more beautiful than when he genuinely laughed, eyes bright with mirth, scent oozing contentment.
Contentment that Dick, his Alpha mate, caused.
Jason smirked filthily at Dick and hooked his fingers in the neck of the oversized sweater, pulling the fabric just far enough away to flash Dick a glimpse of his mating bite, and promised, “I’ll make it up to you.”
Dick stared at his visible claim on the Omega who had won his heart; his chest rumbled with a growl as he said, “Now.”
Smirking, Jason stood up. His chair shrieked against the floor. His scent was a subtle taunt of catch-me-I-dare-you as he dropped a wad of cash on the table — more than enough to cover the bill with a generous tip — and then bolted out of the cafe door, bell ringing loudly as it slammed against the glass.
A dangerous smile curled Dick’s lips as he stared out the door as Jason faded from sight. Apparently, Jason had a special gift for him for their anniversary: a breeding hunt.
Tomorrow, when he and Jason were on the cover of every tabloid in Gotham, it was going to be Jason’s fault. Not Dick’s.
The Beta waitress, smelling of amused-entertainment, beamed up at Dick and said, “Thank you for dining in. We’ll keep Mr. Wayne’s book safe until he returns for it. Happy hunting, Mr. Grayson!”
The little taunt reminder of Jason asking to be called “Mr. Wayne,” instead of “Mr. Grayson-Wayne,” snapped the last thread of Dick’s control.
Dick grinned with all his teeth and tore out the door after Jason. One minute would have to be enough of a fair start, because he couldn’t stand the thought of Jason getting any farther away. He wouldn’t stop until he had his mate in his arms, beneath him, with his teeth in Jason’s throat.
Because he was never letting Jason go. Jason was his!
And he? He was Jason’s.