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Jason’s hungry.
Lately his performance has deteriorated, so they’ve put him on strict rations and upped his exercise. It makes his muscles tremble and his insides ache. He knows that he’s been marked as the human equivalent of a bait dog. The fight he’s scheduled for tonight is gonna be a massacre. He has one shot at making it out alive. If he doesn’t... well, he was gonna die anyway.
Jason watches from where he’s crouched by the wall as the rich guy and his kid, though really no one could call Grayson a kid anymore, hand the keys to the valet and enter the Dent mansion without a single glance backwards. According to the stable gossip, the wealthy betas hadn’t been seen at a fight in a couple months. They had been due for an appearance. The valet moves to the driver's seat but, predictably, takes a few minutes to just bask in the glory of a sweet ride.
It’s all time Jason needs to slip into the back seat of the car. Even just laying on the floor feels luxurious. He hasn’t been able to sleep well with his stomach trying to eat itself. The adrenaline of his upcoming escape has been the only thing keeping him going but now it seems to be draining from his veins.
It takes everything he has to push his sore muscles up and out of the cramped position and climb forward into the front seat to pop the trunk once the valet is gone. He scrambles to make it out the door and curl up in the trunk without being noticed. There’s no way for him to completely shut the trunk from his position, so hopefully they either won’t notice or they’ll blame a nosy valet.
The trunk is less comfortable than the floor of the back seat but it's still worlds away from the dirt floor of his stall. In the cold weather the stablehands would pile in extra straw and then he and his family could dig down into the layers to get a nice bowl shape, but it was so prickly and scratched. And anyway, no matter how far down they dug into the dirt floor and straw, they could never truly be hidden from Dominus, the stable managers, or even from the hands who worked there. Every few days their nests would be torn up so their bedding could be changed out and they’d have to start over.
Enclosed by the solid steel, enveloped by darkness, Jason’s instincts are finally soothed.
He feels… Safe.
It’s an uncomfortable feeling, like the relief from poison ivy after plunging it into scalding water, but one Jason thinks he could get used to. Harvey Dent’s gladiator stable wasn’t the sort of place one lived voluntarily. Jason was born and bred there. His father was one of the stable’s best fighters until he was crippled. Dominus had him put down after that. Jason’s mom was similarly a beautiful omega. Dominus’ neglect after Willis’s death caused her to waste away. By the time she finally passed, there was nothing of her left.
Jason curls up tighter and wills those memories away. He’s never left the stable, never really even left his stall except for exercise and practices. Tonight was supposed to be his debut. At one point Jason would have been raring to go, ready to beat the lights out of his opponent and prove he was the better alpha—prove he was worth the investment.
Only... he’s not an alpha.
His scent hasn’t changed much but it is changing. If Jason’s lucky, he has a day, maybe two before his first heat hits. If he’s still in a stable when that happens, his life is over.
Omegas kept in the gladiator rings serve one of three purposes and none of them good. Broodmare, wet nurse, or bait. With his bloodlines Jason might make broodmare. Given his sire and dam’s deaths, he’s probably bait. And that’s only if he survived tonight.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Three.
Jason forces himself to calm. Either he’ll escape or he won’t. If he works himself into a panic, his scent will only get stronger. Worse, it might trigger an early heat. Getting away from the stable is only the first step; he needs to find somewhere he can hide out during his heat once he gets free. He needs to get food and blankets and—
No. None of that.
He’s comfortable. He’s on his way out. Jason just needs to hold it together for a little longer and then he can be free. He’ll actually be free.
There’s a blanket shoved into a corner of the trunk. It’s musty and maybe a little damp but Jason’s not picky. It swallows him nearly whole. Even with the mildew smell, it’s still the most comfortable blanket he’s ever had the pleasure of wrapping up in. Given his recent insomnia and the safety found in the silent darkness around him, its really not a surprise when he drifts off to sleep.
The intensely warm light of a sunset startles him awake an indeterminate amount of time later. Disoriented, Jason tries to scramble and put his back to the wall but his muscles refuse to comply. All he can do is gulp in air and stare at the young adult holding a bag above his head.
“Everything alright, Dick?” A very drunk male slurs. It must be Bruce Wayne. That would make sense. This is his car.
Jason’s been caught.
Dick turns and gestures with his head in Jason’s direction. “I need your help rearranging this mess, B. Can’t you clean out your car?”
Jason can feel his heartbeat in his throat as he watches Bruce Wayne enter his line of sight.
The man frowns down at Jason, looking more sober than he sounds. Wayne reaches down for Jason but he jerks out of the way. It’s enough space for Dick to set down his bag.
Before he can gasp out an excuse, Wayne lifts a finger to his lips dramatically as he sways.The man is speaking as though to his son but Jason gets the feeling he’s the recipient.
“Shhhh, Dick. A man has his secrets. Don’t want Alfred finding everything.”
Just like that, the trunk is shut on him. Minutes later the car drives away. It’s impossible to tell how long they drive. He should try to sleep while he has the chance but he’s so on edge that he can’t manage it. Where the darkness once felt comforting, now it’s oppressive.
If he were more optimistic, Jason might be tentatively hopeful. He’s leaving the stable... probably. At least, he’s hoping that since they didn’t immediately turn him in that he’s not going to be returned. However, that means that he’s now the property of the Waynes. They don’t have their own stable yet and he wouldn’t be a bad choice of brooder if they wanted to start one.
Trapped alone with his thoughts, Jason curls tight, his muscles trembling, and turns his attention to reciting Wuthering Heights. He’d learned early on that if he wanted to keep his novels he’d have to have them stored internally. The caretakers had quickly learned that he wasn’t to be trusted around the written word. Some of them were more lenient than others but he never got to keep anything for very long.
The sun has completely set by the time the hood opens a second time. Sometimes, on clear days, he and his mom could make out the stars from their stall window. He never dreamed that there were that many.
They’re hidden by the lowering of a garage door and Jason is jolted back into the situation at hand. Wayne is backing away, his hands held at shoulder level with palms facing out. Slowly, one leg at a time, Wayne sits down on the garage tile. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
Jason scrambles to his feet, legs twisting in the blanket. In his haste to escape, Jason trips over the lip of the trunk and nearly lands face first on the hard floor. Before he can crash and, at the very least, sprain his wrist he’s caught by Dick Grayson.
The younger beta gently sets Jason down and steadies him before clasping his arms behind his back. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”
“Safe? People like me ain’t safe nowhere.” Jason spits. One of his hands presses against the car for support. His whole body shakes with the need to run but all the exits are blocked. “We’re either beatin’ each other bloody for your amusement or we’re birthin’ the pups to replace us when we wear out. Only time we’re safe is when we’re dead.”
Grayson looks offended and opens his mouth to reply but he’s stopped by Wayne’s upheld arm. The head of the Wayne pack doesn’t look drunk anymore. “Why do you say that?”
“Can’t make a corpse scream, can you?” Jason scoffs but his victory rings hollow. “There’s nothin’ more a stable owner can do once you’re dead.”
“And you think you’re going to be part of our stable?” Wayne asks again in that same even tone.
Jason licks his chapped lips. This conversation has the same feel of his early training sessions but maybe not quite as dangerous. He could have died while training to fight in the rings but now he’s got a functioning womb. A pup is easy to dispose of since the investment isn’t as great at that point but it doesn’t make good business sense to kill off a breeding age omega.
It takes a couple tries but eventually he manages to ask. “Aren’t you?”
“If I wanted a stable, I would already have one.” Wayne says. He doesn’t look like he’s making fun of Jason. He… actually looks like he’s taking Jason’s concerns seriously. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Jason crosses his arms protectively over his chest. Even if he had more than minor bumps and scrapes, there’s no way that he will voluntarily be letting either of the men touch him. Not that he has high expectations for his wishes to be respected.
But instead of standing and forcibly examining him, Bruce leans back on his hands. “Alright. Is there anything that you need?”
Pressing his lips together, Jason shakes his head.
“What about something to eat?” Dick leans closer with a friendly smile. “I know I’m ready for a snack. I’m sure Alfred won’t mind making a little extra.”
Before Jason can ask who Alfred is an elderly looking omega clears his throat. “I would not. Are there any allergies or aversions to certain types of food that I should be aware of?”
Jason fights the urge to hide behind the other omega. He’s not stupid, he knows that being of the same caste isn’t enough to save him from the older omega’s wrath but at least with this Alfred they’re on the same level. Alfred might not like him but Jason knows how to defend himself against alphas and omegas. Trying to defend against a beta will only bring pain.
Besides, Dick is standing between him and the other omega.
Jason dips his chin defensively. Neither beta shows any comprehension of the omegan gesture but Alfred certainly understands—even if he doesn’t visibly react beyond a twitch of his moustache.
After a few moments, Alfred gives a slow blink and tilts his head towards the house. Attack won’t come from that direction at least. “I see. I will show you to your quarters then?”
Jason glances at Wayne, who nods his consent. That’s all Jason needs. He dodges around Grayson to reach Alfred’s side. The older omega lets him press close and soak in the warmth of another’s body heat.
He’s so lonely without his mom.
“This way.” Alfred murmurs, gently guiding Jason with a hand pressed to his back. Until he’s walking on his own.
Jason bares his teeth, mostly on instinct, but allows himself to be led easily. They make their way up a grand staircase and down a hallway. Everything is so shiny, it's hard not to feel sick at his own audacity to sully the air by breathing.
“I’m not sleeping outside?”
“Of course not.” For the first time Alfred breaks character, offense and indignation vibrating within his entire aura—even if he remains mostly still on the outside. “Master Bruce neither owns outdoor housing nor would I permit him to turn a young pup out of the house.”
“He’s a beta.” Jason points out, though really it should be obvious. “Don’t think you’re in a position to ‘permit’ anything?”
Alfred merely hums in response before pushing open a bedroom door. “This will be yours for the duration of your stay.”
Jason pokes his head into the room, sees that it’s clearly a guest room, and promptly backs a foot away. “Funny. Where’s the servants quarters?”
“Renovated into an apartment for myself. You’ll be staying here.” Alfred nudges Jason into the room without mercy and shuts the door behind them. “Master Bruce messaged me before his return so I gathered some of Master Dick’s old clothing that had yet to be donated. I’m afraid it will be large but we will make do until we can arrange for more suitable things.”
Jason barks out a laugh but it sounds frightened even to himself. “I’m not—I can’t. I’m an omega.”
After a hesitation, Alfred rests his hands on Jason’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze. “I know it’s hard to fathom but to Master Bruce it makes no difference.”
Jason swallows hard as he looks around the room again. It’s large with a canopied bed dressed in green bedding. Several bookcases line the walls with a variety of contents while a plush chair and side table rest against the huge window. It’s a dream.
It can’t be real.
He must have passed out from hunger, or maybe he did actually fight and is in a coma. That would make far more sense than whatever all this is being reality. With that knowledge bolstering him, Jason tentatively explores. If this is some strange hallucination that his brain’s concocted for comfort, it would be ungrateful to not enjoy it to the fullest before he wakes back up.
When he turns back around, Alfred is gone.
Jason falls asleep on the reading chair, curled up around a book. He’d found North and South, the book he’d started before his ‘escape’, on the shelves and wanted to see how his subconscious decided the plot would go. It wasn’t quite as good as Pride and Prejudice but it was definitely giving his favorite a run for its money.
He wakes to a hand on his shoulder an indeterminate time later. Bruce is smiling at him softly and the knowledge that the man isn’t real lets Jason stay loose and relaxed when he’s picked up. The hold is so warm and comforting that when Bruce tries to put him down, Jason clings tighter.
Why his subconscious chose Bruce Wayne of all people to be the face of his rescuer, Jason doesn’t know. He’s just glad that his brain made the man’s hug so soft, despite all his muscles. His scent is so comforting it could make Jason cry.
Nevermind.
Tears are streaking down his dirty face. They leave nasty dark smudges across the white silk of Bruce’s sleep shirt but the beta doesn’t let him go. Instead he settles on the bed, Jason resting against his broad chest, and sways. A hand far too calloused to belong to a rich beta, another mark against this being reality, strokes through Jason’s matted curls.
The song he hums isn’t one Jason recognizes but he figures that if his comatose psyche could make up a mansion it could probably make up a song too.
He wakes up in the bed sometime the next afternoon, alone but cradled in a very soft nest of blankets. Dick Grayson is staring at him expectantly.
“Uh…?” is all Jason can manage. Normally he’s more alert when waking up but he’s pretty sure that nothing can hurt him in this world. He can afford to be sluggish for once.
“It’s time for lunch. I was sent to wake you up.” Dick grins at him. Before Jason can respond to that, he’s scooped up into Dicks arms and balanced on a hip.
It’s startling to say the least. He tries to scramble out of the hold but Dick’s grip is deceptively strong. Once they reach the stairs, he grips Dick’s sleeve tightly and prays he isn’t dropped as they make their way down. Dream or not, he’s sure a fall would be painful.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving my new baby brother a lift.” Dick tips his head to muzzle against Jason’s cheek. “You’re so tiny.”
Oh. Jason supposes he could have imagined worse things for Dick to see him as. Playing along, since this is apparently something he wants, Jason rests his head on his apparent brother’s shoulder. Begrudgingly he can admit this is nice, though he would never allow it if he was actually awake where people could see. “I’m thirteen. Ish. I’m not that tiny.”
“Thirteen? But you’re so small.” Duck hugs him closer.
Jason huffs and kicks Dick lightly in the side, like he would have if this was Willis carrying him around the pasture. “I can still beat you up.”
It doesn’t draw a reaction from Dick. The blasted beta keeps grinning. “So when’s your birthday? We gotta get you nice and big before you turn fourteen.”
“Dunno. You’d have to look at Dominus’ records.” Jason lifts his wrist up so Dick can see the letters and numbers tattooed there. Somewhere in the stable office there are records tied to the serial. “But it’s spring I think. Mama always picked the nicest spring day to celebrate anyway.”
“We’ll have to pick you out a new one.” Dick declares firmly but his enthusiasm seems dimmed by the reminder that Jason’s not really a person.
He could kick himself for that. If Jason is going to go through with concocting this elaborate fantasy, he’s not about to do it halfheartedly.
Lunch is nice, served by Alfred, then Dick takes Jason on a grand tour. At least, he tries to. Jason gets sidetracked when they enter the largest collection of books Jason’s ever seen. He didn’t think even he could have dreamed up that many books and yet here they are.
Dick doesn't bother to try and pull him away from the library. It’s a lost cause anyway since Jason wouldn’t ever think up something to distract him from books. Instead, once Jason has a good armful of tomes, Dick pulls them over to a window seat.
There’s enough pillows and throw blankets to make a lovely nest. It’s large enough to fit Jason, Dick, and even Bruce when he comes to find them later on. Basking in the sun, head in Bruce’s lap and feet in Dick’s, Jason finds himself hoping against hope that he doesn’t wake up.
With each day that passes and he adjusts to the easy kindness that surrounds him in the manor, Jason grows more and more anxious to see if this morning is when he’ll finally wake up to broken bones and split skin. After three weeks Jason is forced to admit that if this isn’t real then he’s dead. He’s at the table, enjoying a meal at a table when he comes to what is the only reasonable conclusion.
He drops his fork onto the plate and pushes to his feet. The urge to run is thrumming in his veins. He wants to leave but he doesn’t know where to go.
“Jason?” Bruce asks, quickly making his way over to his side. “Are you alright?”
Jason pats down his own face and chest. He feels real but knows that he can’t be. “I think I’m dead.”
“Oh.” Bruce hesitates instead of scooping him up into the hugs that Jason’s learned to indulge in. It’s rather unfair that this realization should cost him the comfort he’s begun to enjoy.
Dick doesn’t have the same reservations though, scooping Jason up into a wriggling mess. It’s no use, Jason can’t free himself from Grayson’s nasty habit of trying to groom him like he’s a toddler. If ever a beta should have been an omega it’s this one.
“You’re not dead, little wing.”
“This is a mansion!” Jason cries, flailing his limbs in a last ditch attempt to free himself. It works, startling all three of them. He tumbles to the ground and throws his arms wide as he breathes heavily. The opulence of his surroundings feels like it’s mocking him.
“I was born on a dirt floor.” He whispers. “What would I be doing here?”
“Jason.” Bruce scoops him up and cradles Jason close. “You’re here because we want you here.”
“I’m an omega!” He fists his hands into Bruce’s black turtleneck. “I’m not a person! I shouldn’t be here! I should be back in a stall somewhere birthing pups!”
“You’re a person, Jason.” Bruce nuzzles the top of Jason’s hair. “You’re here because we want you here.”
“I’m an omega.” The words come out a breathless whine. He wants to believe them. Believe that this is real.
Dick presses up against them and leans in close to dot little kisses across Jason’s face.
“No. You’re Jason.”
Jason curled into his new pack and decided to let it be enough.
A few months later and Jason’s dressed in a smart gray suit, ready to be introduced to high society as Bruce’s newest son. An expensive watch, a gift from Bruce, hides the serial numbers that connect him to Dominus’ farm. He’d been given the option if he wanted to stay presenting as an omega or if he wanted to take suppressants. It was an option that he never dreamed existed when he was trying to comfort his momma after her heat.
He does regret that he wasn’t able to save his birth family but it’s hard to say that he’s disappointed with how life has turned out. Bruce has shared a lot of plans he has for new laws with him. Laws that will make the fighting rings illegal. Alphas and omegas will still be used to provide children for the upper class betas, who can’t carry their own, but things should be a little better.
Eventually, Bruce hopes that Jason can go back to presenting as an omega. Or that he’ll at least have the option to be both an omega and Bruce’s son. Jason isn’t sure what he wants but he’s honestly willing to take whatever he can get.
After one last comb of his fingers through his curls, Jason bounds out of the room to go join the rest of his family down by the car. Dick ruffles his carefully styled hair before scooping him up onto his shoulders. “Ready to go?”
“Are you sure I can’t just stay home with Alfie?” Jason leans over Dick’s head until their noses touch.
Alfred snorts quietly before passing over the keys to the car to Bruce. There’s a twitch of his moustache that hints at a smile despite the longsuffering in his words. “Please, Master Jason, allow me a few moment’s rest.”
Bruce, though normally reserved, is already in character for Brucie and leans in to peck Alfred’s cheek. It was startling to learn that Alfred had been the one to carry Bruce, although really it should have been obvious.
Apparently hiding your designation isn’t uncommon among the elite so they won’t have to give up their children. Thomas Wayne was an alpha who formed a triad between his beta wife and their omega ‘butler’. After the Waynes’ death, Alfred took back over the raising of his pup.
Jason kind of thinks that he wouldn’t hate being a parent if he got to keep his kid like Alfred did. But that’s way in the future.
Right now he’s being tumbled into Bruce’s arms and snuggled close. He’s only thirteen and in two weeks he’s going to start school instead of dodging the alphas Dominus might try to shove him in with. This time instead of the trunk, Jason gets to ride in the passenger seat. He’s not looking forward to the party but he is eager to see what one of the hoity toity shindigs looks like from the inside.
Life isn’t perfect but it is good and—for once in his life—Jason’s hopeful for the future.