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Dick is so incredibly screwed and he knows there is not a damn thing that he can do about it. Out of all the people that could have moved into old Ms. Clementine’s apartment after her transfer to the retirement home, it had to be him. It just had to be the most unconventional omega he’s ever seen. It just had to be the omega with the prettiest jade eyes and most wicked smile that never ceases to turn his bones into a heap of molten goop. It had to be the omega that made the entire sixth floor smell faintly like ginger snap and honey. It had to be the omega with the most powerful thighs that Dick absolutely wants to suffocate himself with.
It had to be the young, twenty something year old omega, very, very single omega, with his six year old pup.
The fact that he had a pup wasn’t the issue. Dick wasn’t so bone headed that he couldn’t accept that the person he was one impulsive choice away from throwing himself at had a child. God no. Alpha that turned up their nose at soiled omega and their bastard children left a rotten taste in his mouth. Actually, Dick was rather enamored with the prickly little thing. It was hard not to find the pup endearing (even with the occasional haughty attitude that spoke of a future alpha) when he was insisting that their little family was going to house every single stray cat and dog that so much as sniffed their way. It was hard when the pup, despite being intelligent far beyond his years and fiercely independent, still worshiped his dame as if he hung the moon and stars. The omega being a single parent wasn’t the issue whatsoever.
It was the fact that Damian was blind.
The omega, Jason , didn’t have a single second to spare the world when he was so busy building one of safety and convenience around his child.
Dick is ashamed that out of the four months since the neighbors have moved in, over half of them he was completely oblivious to Damian’s aliments (and god, would Jason wring his neck if he ever heard him referring to it as such). It’s just that he’d been so distracted by the prospect of new neighbors, completely taken back when he’d realized the sweet smell of ginger and sage was wafting off of Jason and not some unseen omega that he missed the initial signs. The careful little steps, the way that Jason insisted that Damian held his hand no matter the distance they traveled together, Damian tilting his head the tiniest bit whenever he followed the sound of his dame’s voice or anything he grew curious about.
Damian was on the goddamn counting system and Dick still hadn’t caught on. What kid wouldn’t count how many steps they took up and down the stairwell? It wasn’t until he’d been returning from his early shift and Jason had been placing embossed stickers along the wall for Damian to follow with his hand that things finally clicked. When he’d offered his hand for Damian to shake upon their first meeting and the action wasn’t reciprocated right away, he thought that Damian was just shy. He thought that Damian had an affixation for textures with the way he was always touching things, thought that he didn’t like loud distracting noise (like music or the when he tapped his foot) because he was hyperacusis. This whole damn time Dick thought that the boy was just sensitive. Damian was just trying to map out the world in the only ways that he knew how.
When Dick had apologized profusely to Jason over acting like his namesake for being insensitive to his son, the omega had thrown his head back and laughed so hard and so loud it had actually woke the pup from his nap. Jason had said there really wasn’t any room for brains after his parents spent so much effort into making him pretty. Dick would be almost offended if that wasn’t admittance that Jason found him attractive.
Thus, Dick resigned himself to his silent (agonizing) pining after the omega in B18. No amount of Arabic that he picked up could possibly impress the omega and pup because they weren’t talking to him. When they spoke in their native tongue it was supposed to be hushed and to each other, acknowledging that he knew something of their language was admitting that he listened in on them - meant that he was being creepy and learning this entire language in hope that he could catch their attention. It wasn’t going anywhere. They were never going to get anywhere. Jason was far too busy between raising his son and working the night-shift at the diner just down the road. He was too busy fussing over hiring a new babysitter to be worried about the increasingly pathetic alpha across the hallway.
Dick would love to volunteer himself to become the new sitter. Not just because he would finally have an in with Jason, but also because he knows how much the omega worries about the people that he hires. By having Dick take on the task, Jason is leaving Damian with someone that they both already know and are mostly comfortable with. There wouldn’t be some awkward period between letting a complete stranger into their home and hoping that they do right by Damian. Jason wouldn’t have to worry about the sitter not wanting to stay over during the night because Dick is just right across the hall, if he needs anything home is right there. It would be the perfect solution. One that Dick would pounce on in a heartbeat -
If he wasn’t Nightwing.
God forgive him, he wants to help. He wants to help so badly that the thought of not being able to is physically starting to make his chest ache. He can help Jason carry the groceries up the stairs (even if the omega doesn’t need his help for even a second) so that the omega’s full attention can be on getting the pup up to their apartment. He can hold onto their packages whenever they mysteriously leave town. All of that is fine. It’s neighborly and Jason appreciates it. However it’s simply not enough. Not when every instinct is screaming to provide and protect the omega and pup, to the point that he’s taken it upon himself to watch follow Jason home from the rooftops after his late shifts. He wants to help so desperately, he just doesn’t know how . He has to file it away as another one of those things that is completely out of his hands, no matter how frustrated it makes him.
So of course it’s Bruce that ends up completely stealing his thunder and being the savior to them all.
Or more accurately, it’s Bruce dragging a petulant and back sassing Timothy Drake up the stairs of his apartment complex. Bruce doesn’t just visit. As a matter of fact, if Dick wants to see his adoptive sire it’s going to be in costume or on Wayne Manor grounds. He can’t think of the last time that Bruce has been to his apartment in the Haven. Tim has been, once or twice when he’s managed to drag his kid brother down for some bonding time. But Bruce, in the flesh (in the day), not in his full Brucie persona as he practically carries Tim by the scruff in one hand and a bag in the other is very new. Tim is one of the most compliant and docile baby alpha on the planet. Even when he’s trying to use his spine he’s so eager to please and jump to order. That certainly isn’t the Tim that’s in front of him with his lip curled and batting at Bruce’s hand with this big bulky-
Oh
“Dick, I have a favor to ask.” Boy, does Bruce ever. Dick’s grin couldn’t be brighter with the way that his sire looks a second away from snapping his teeth at the still pouting alpha.
“I’ll say,” He starts, because he just can’t keep himself from talking. “What ya got going on there Timmy?”
“Bruce is being-”
“Completely reasonable and fair in the wake of your predicament.” Bruce cuts off Tim, earning them an indigent squawk as Tim once again bats at Bruce’s side with the bulk of his cast. “Hitting me isn’t going to make you feel any better Tim.” Which is the nice way of saying that if Tim doesn’t stop his actions he’s going to get a swift kick to the butt.
“Maybe I’m just not hitting hard enough.”
He’s actively trying not to outright laugh at the absurdity that’s happening right outside his door (because they stopped him on his way out to the store) for the whole hallway to hear. If the cast and attitude is any indication Tim must be on a little something extra to keep him from feeling those blows that he’s steadily delivering to Bruce’s back.
“Go for the kidneys.” Bruce’s low growl was very much worth the spark of loopy joy in Tim’s eyes. His efforts are renewed with gusto. “So you need a babysitter while you go on a trip or?”
“I’m being imprisoned-”
“He’s grounded from his electronics and.. Extracurricular activities while the cast is on.”
“That’s an interesting way to say my house is boring B.” Bruce just gives him this look. “Is he really so bad that he needs to be separated from the house entirely? What about Alfred?”
“I’m taking him with me.”
And I’m the last resort . He doesn’t say it, he knows that he doesn’t need to. He should be upset with the implication. He chooses instead to just be excited with the prospect of a few days with his brother. Tim’s attitude isn’t growing any more cheery as Dick starts to pull him under his arm, Bruce already handing over the bag that he’s been carrying like he couldn’t get out of there sooner.
“You know I can’t cook Bruce.” He tries one last time, just to really rile up the pup now in his care. Bruce doesn’t even hesitate to hand over the shiny plastic. Dick whistles lowly as he accepts the card. “You hear that Timmy? It’s Fillet Mignon and lobster every night. “
Dick isn’t sure what it was that he said, or if Tim was looking particularly cute with his little pout when suddenly Bruce is looking at him in a way that he’s not experienced since he was swinging on chandeliers in the manor. One moment they’re dealing with an immovable boulder, and now Bruce is leaning in to gather them into his big arms and swiping his cheek over the top of their heads. Dick hasn’t been scented in.. he doesn’t know. He really doesn’t care. Now he’s the over eager pup rubbing his cheek back and reveling in the scenting and soft rumble their sire has picked up. Dick could stay here like this all day and let the world pass by.
The only thing that pulls him away is the undeniable sound of a squeaky door hinge. All three heads turn to see a little nose poke out of the apartment. Damian visibility scents the air before placing a single foot outside of the threshold, head tilted slightly to the left as he listens. His brows are pulled tightly together as he takes another step out into the hallway.
Dick doesn’t want to startle the thing, intentionally keeping his voice soft and stepping on the creaky part of the hall to alert Damian exactly where he is. “Damian, is everything okay?”
His efforts are for naught when the tiny pup jumps a few inches in the air, one hand instantly coming up to grab onto the door frame. “Richard!” He exclaims airily, clearly scandalized that he’d been startled so easily.
“Yeah, it’s me Damian.”
Damian is very clearly uncomfortable when he scents the air again and that little button nose wrinkles. “Who are you creating a ruckus with?” Ruckus. Leave it to Damian to be the only six year old to address the commotion out in the hallway as ruckus .
“Just my father and brother Damian.” He assures, now untangling himself from Bruce and Tim entirely so that he may crouch down to be at Damian’s height. “Were we being too loud for you?”
Suddenly the six year old looks haughty and defensive. As if Dick would dare imply that he couldn’t handle the noise out in the hallway. His little cheeks redden and puff out as he stands just a little straighter, the hand that wasn’t on the door now coming forward to reveal a little basket with a towel covering the top of it. “Ummi insisted that I bring this over to you.” He’s clearly embarrassed as Dick takes the basket from him, perhaps thinking that his silence is rejection rather than being completely shocked. “We made too much and we mustn't waste.” Damian quickly adds on as a defense.
Dick is still too shocked to say anything. Sure, Jason and Damian talk to him on occasion, they’ve even let him walk the same way with them once or twice, but they’ve never exchanged baked goods before. Homemade ones at that. “You made these for me?” He asks even if he knows Damian is going to insist that they made too much. “What are they?”
To that Damian completely backtracks anything he was going to say, looking rather proud of himself. “Blueberry strudel.” Needless to say, strudel is impressive to bring to your neighbor that you’re maybe friends with, much less to bake them at such a young age.
“You made them from scratch all by yourself?”
If Damian was proud before, now he’s absolutely beaming up at Dick, extending both hands out for Dick to see that his palms are stained a light purple. “Ummi let me smash the berries.” Dick’s heart is swelling, positively overflowing with the fresh wave of love that’s boiling over in his chest. Even though Damian can’t see that his hands are stained, he’s satisfied to show Dick the evidence of his hard work. He knew that Jason wanted to start baking with Damian to stimulate his need to touch things, but he never in a million years thought he would be included in the activity.
Before Dick can shower the pup in praise, Jason appears from the doorway with a wild look about his face. “ Damian! ” It sounds like a scold (it has to be with the way the pup’s shoulders hike up to his ears), but all Dick can hear is the accent of his voice when he says Damian’s name. Or maybe it’s them saying it with an accent, considering they aren’t the ones who gave the name. When Jason pronounces it, he says it like ‘ Dah-mein ’ instead of leading it with ‘dame’. Dick knows that he needs to actively make the effort to pronounce the boy’s name right, but it’s hard not to when he gets to hear Jason correct him.
“- to wait.” Right, Damian is in trouble for leaving the apartment.
“ Ummi ” It’s the closest thing to a whine he’s heard from the pup. Jason must be used to it if he continues on like nothing. Dick knows without a doubt that if Damian ever talked to him like that he would be putty in the boy’s hands. Especially when apparently, Damian had gone out of his way to hand deliver the treats to Dick himself, too excited to wait on his mother before leaving the house. In his heart he knows that he should be backing up everything (little as it is) Jason is saying about going off on his own (even if it was just across the hall and out of the stairwell’s danger) but again he’s just hit with that same overwhelming feeling of love and he’s lost all over again.
…
Dick is just putting his belt through the final loop of his pants when he hears the knock at the door. He turns to Tim sprawled out on the couch, silently asking if he knew who could be at the door (they’ve been living off of take away the past week). That one look is all he needs to know that Tim hasn’t moved from that spot in hours, much less taken his eyes off of the television screen in hours. Dick isn’t expecting anyone and Bruce isn’t back for another two weeks. Seeing as he is the only one who even realized that there’s someone at the door, Dick is the one moving closer to the door, not so much as sparing a peek through the peep-hole before opening it.
It’s Jason.
Jason is standing at his door in uniform, small bag in one hand and a pup’s hand in another. “I hate to ask,” He starts, and Dick already knows where this is going. He’s overheard Jason’s call the other night when he’d been standing on the balcony, talking to who he could only presume was Jason’s mother (he’s been very upfront about his complete lack of a social life) about how he was running out of sick days to take since the last babysitter quit. The thing is, Dick wants to say yes. He would gladly shout it from the rooftops.
But he can’t. Dick has worked very hard to keep his three twelves schedule at the BHFD and keep a three week days and one week nights schedule. If it were any other week, he’d make the sacrifice in giving up Nightwing for the night if it meant Jason was coming to him with that look in his eyes. A look that he’s about to completely crush in the next three seconds.
“I-”
“Dick who’s at the door?”
Tim! Of course! The answer has been living with him for the next two weeks!
“I can’t watch him,” Oh, how the slump in Jason’s shoulder’s and the smaller matching pair breaks his heart . “But,” he’s quick to add, holding up his hands in an attempt to rectify the situation. “But, my little brother is still here and is more than willing to watch Damian.”
Jason’s face takes an interesting wash of emotions; sad, confused, upset, frustrated, to tired. “Isn’t his arm broken?” Jason asks as he not so discreetly peers into Dick’s apartment.
Later he can preen over the omega paying attention to the details of his life. Right now, he’s waving his hands and putting on the most comforting smile he can muster. “I promise he’s capable! He’s already weaned off of his pain killers and he’s very responsible.”
“Dick, I don’t know. It’s one thing if it’s you but -”
“You don’t even have to pay him. It’s what, ten to six? They can order a pizza and Tim can put on one of his stories, you know like the old ones that used to play on the radio? The can listen to that, and I have lots of blankets in the closet if he needs a nest and-”
“ Dick ,” Jason sighs and that’s enough to short circuit his brain and shut him up. “Can I speak to Tim first?”
That’s not a no. That’s definitely not a no. “Yeah, yeah of course! Come in, I’m just getting ready for work you can introduce yourselves and - yeah, please come in.”
At least Jason looks amused with his floundering as he steps into the apartment, taking in the space with caution as he leads the pup into his home. Dick is already burning a trail over to the couch, shutting off the television and giving Tim a pleading enough look not to complain and sit up straight when Jason rounds the corner into the living room. All too soon Tim is grinning like the cat that got the cream, and so help him god he will strangle the baby alpha if he doesn’t wipe that look off of his face fast.
Jason comes over to the edge of the couch, looks over Tim worryingly as his last resort before speaking. “Tim, right?”
“Timothy Drake, it’s a pleasure Jason. We met in the hall when the little guy brought the yummy strudel.” Dick is going to bash his brother over the head with how smug he looks when Jason takes his hand in greeting. Of all times to act like a normal human being.
Jason doesn’t say anything to that other than a nod of acknowledgement. He’s getting straight to business. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“Have you ever cared for a child before?”
“Other than Dick?” Jason doesn’t say anything, but Damian who has been quiet up until now lets out a little snort at the rhetoric. Dick is melting in his fucking shame. “I am familiar. I used to take care of myself before Bruce took me in.”
“Have you ever taken care of a blind child before?”
“No, but I already know that you’ll have a list to help me out.” Apparently that’s both the right thing to say and spot on. Jason doesn’t look the least bit deterred when he’s reaching into the little bag to pull out a small packet of papers. Very, very detailed papers on the do’s and don’ts of Damian.
Dick should not find that as hot as he does.
“Are you familiar with the counting system?”
“Counting of steps in each direction? I’ve never applied it, but I’m sure I can manage.”
“And you’re patient?”
There’s a pregnant pause and for a second Dick thinks that this little interview is going to go straight into the ground when Tim doesn’t answer and just stares at Jason.
“My dad is Brucie Wayne .” He stresses.
Jason is laughing then, trying and failing at hiding the sound behind the white of his teeth at his lip. God, it's incredibly attractive. Dick wants to taste that laughter.
Then Jason is crouching down and whispering something in quick Arabic to Damian, he holds onto his son for what seems like forever before he finally pulls away and lightly pushes on Damian’s back to encourage him forward to where Tim is now greeting the pup.
He owes Tim for this. He’s going to have to come up with something fucking good if Tim agreed so easily to be Dick’s stand-in for the night. Dick finishes getting ready and picks up a bag of his own, giving a quick kiss to the top of Tim’s head (that earns him a swat) and a pinch to Damian’s cheek on his way out the door. His day must be full of surprises, because Jason is waiting for him in the stairwell. They walk down together in relative silence, neither of them having the will or maybe the confidence to say what’s on their mind until they reach the street outside.
“Are you good at your job, Dick?”
Which is such a weird and completely random thing to say. Is he good at his job? They don’t hire incompetent EMTs at the BHFD, this isn’t the PD for crying out loud.
“Yes?” Call him an idiot for answering Jason’s question with a question, but he isn’t sure what answer is being fished for here.
Jason on the other hand doesn’t seem moved at all when he speaks up again. “So you’ll be able to patch yourself up when I take break your nose for lying to me if something happens to Damian.”
Dick doesn’t think he’s ever gotten this turned on before after being threatened bodily harm. Very real harm because he can hear it in the way that Jason’s voice has darkened in a way that he’s never heard it before, one that just oozes danger. He almost wants to ask Jason to keep going. However, this is serious and Jason needs to hear the truth.
“Jason, nothing is going to happen to Damian. Tim might look a little sad, but I can promise you I trust Damian with his life. Tim would sacrifice himself before he ever let anything happen to Damian.”
The omega places a hand on his arm, slowing them both until they’ve stopped walking and they can face each other. Whatever Jason is searching for in his eyes, he seems to find it. He smiles at Dick, leans in and plants the softest kiss on Dick’s cheek he’s positively going to faint.
“Thank you.” And all Dick can do is nod dumbly as Jason pulls away.
…
He becomes a bit jittery when four is rolling around. Dick still has another two hours before he can get off work, and Jason should be on his way home by now. Before they parted ways,he’d given Jason his house key so that he may come in and get Damian without waking either of the pups up. At most Tim didn’t give Damian the right number of steps to make it to his location. He knows that he can trust Tim, and yet that does nothing to ease his nerves as he watches the minutes tick by. It isn’t until his phone buzzes and he’s practically diving into his pocket to check it that he gets his answer.
Not just a text, but a picture message. Jason sent a photo of Tim half on the floor, half on the couch next to where Damian is laying, his hand buried in Tim’s unruly hair like he was pulling it before he fell asleep. The caption reads “Friend or foe?” and Dick can’t help but to chuckle over it. Yeah, he really owes Tim for this one.
…
The next day Jason asks if Tim would be willing to come over to his apartment instead to keep Damian in his element. Dick is unrightfully jealous that his kid brother was invited into Jason’s home when Dick has only seen glimpses of the inside. Tim is smug the whole hour leading up to it. When he gets home, a very dreary Tim answers the door and introduces him to their new snake plant that he and Damian planted last night - Damian has the matching one in his window sill.
A little later in the week and he catches Tim and Damian bickering as they mold clay about whether dogs or cats are better. Tim insists that cats being low maintenance and cuddly are better. Damian, insisting that Tim is lazy and a toad that dogs are ‘most wonderful’.
Wednesday into the new week and Damian is coming over to request that the ‘Lord of the Toads’ join him in making braided brioche. Dick also gets an invite to the braided bread party. Both omega and pup have declared that the Wayne brothers are absolutely hopeless in their kitchen, and are chased over to the table with a faux puppy growl. It’s okay in Dick’s book, because Jason placed his hands over Dick’s when he was guiding him how to properly braid the dough.
The following day they attempt to redeem themselves by inviting them over for a spaghetti dinner. Tim, with all of his hyper focused brilliance was able to cut all the cherry tomatoes precisely for their salad, and Dick managed not to overcook the pasta. By the time dinner is over, the two younger ones are settled in the living room listening to a mystery story, while they wash the dishes in the kitchen.
Dick’s handing over the last plate to Jason says the most peculiar thing;
“You’d make a really good father.”
He doesn’t hesitate anymore. He couldn’t care less for the plate clanging into the sink when he’s cupping Jason's face, hands still sudsy and smelling like Dawn dish soap and he’s pulling Jason in for a long overdo kiss.
So help him, he’s going to mate this omega.