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Damian wakes slowly.
That, in and of itself, is a major indication that all is not as it should be. That he is very well aware of his current vulnerability and does not immediately move to correct it is an incriminating indicator as well. Any number of ill intending persons could take advantage of him as he is now. And yet, incomprehensibly, Damian will allow this process to proceed in this compromising fashion.
He feels so- tch.
It’s as though the world of consciousness lies just beyond a hazy, heavy blanket of something vast and incredibly warm. Something that should never, under any circumstances, be tampered with. Not even by Damian.
It sounds like utter nonsense, but then, it does not.
His limbs feel weighted down by the dense haze surrounding his whole body. He couldn't raise a knife, let alone his sword, to defend himself against an assault. But then, he doesn't have to. Damian is not sure how he knows this, but he's positive that this strange sense of ease he is experiencing is what other’s refer to as a security blanket.
For the first time Damian can remember he feels safe and protected through no effort of his own. This strange feeling, this otherworldly blanket will safeguard him while he is incapacitated by the dregs of sleep. Of course Damian has his doubts, he would be a fool not to, but he also possesses hope.
He hopes it won't come back to seriously damage him later.
Damian struggles to force his eyes open. It’s difficult, but like all tasks set before him he accomplishes it. Everything is blurry and out of focus for a couple seconds, but Damian quickly blinks away the brain fuzz and the first thing he sees is another person hovering over him.
Normally his first reaction would be a swift and violent one, but Damian’s first thought is, 'They're beautiful.' His second is that whoever they are they smell really, REALLY nice. Really nice and happy. His third thought is that the person looks strikingly similar to his new mother.
Damian's face suddenly feels like its on fire. He scrambles to say something, anything.
“Y-you! I- M-mo-” Damian’s tries to speak, but his throat is doing something unhelpful. When he swallows it hurts.
“I know, sweetheart.” The other's voice is calm, soft. Perfect. “I can feel it too.”
Both of Damian's arms and legs jerk in response to his shock. That wonderful- troublesome -feeling/blanket is… their bond. He doesn’t know what to think, what he should do. Damian has never had a bond before.
“You're surprised.” A hand bigger than Damian’s own cards through his hair gently. It's blessedly distracting. “Am I really the only one?”
“…Y-yes.” Damian hates that his voice cracks. He sounds like a pitiful fool. “Mother doesn’t allow- I mean, Tali-”
Damian takes a steadying breathe, focusing on the fingers massaging his scalp. “B-bonds are not necessary for establishing pack hierarchy. They weaken one's resolve and cloud otherwise clear objectives. It's a sentimental death trap. One that I am not stupid enough to indulge in.”
The omega’s smile is blinding and beautiful. “So you’re all mine. My puppy.”
“I am not a dog!” The sharp words spill out of Damian faster than he can consider what effect they'll have on the both of them. “I won't let you compromise my position as blood-heir in father's pack!”
“Of course not, Damian.” The omega's lips brush against his forehead, smoothing the wrinkles there. “You don't have to be anything you don't want to be. Do you want me to break it?”
The hand running through his hair leaves and the omega leans his body away from Damian, giving the youngling his own space. The loss of the warm contact is so unexpected that for a raw second the cold left behind is all Damian can focus on. The safety blanket surrounding the two of them wavers, the edges of it curling inward in with threatening finality.
“No!” Damian shouts, panicked. He immediately regrets it. He is supposed to be better than this. “No, please. I’ll make it work.”
Against his conflicting emotions, Damian tries to reach out across their wavering bond and smooth the corners back down. He isn't met with resistance, but there is no enthusiastic acceptance either, just a creeping sense of pity and allowance that the other didn't hide from him. It made Damian feel sick and just a little desperate for the omega's happy glow to return instead of this- this wrongness.
“That's definitely not how this works, pup.” His bond mate's expression turns sad, and Damian finds himself willing to do just about anything to fix it. “Neither of us could handle a feedback loop of the other's negative emotions for very long. We either want this together, or not at all.”
“Then we want it!” Damian’s treacherous heart speaks for him, and he lets it slide (just this once). “W-we do want it.. right? You said that I was yours.”
Talia had claimed something similar once before, and look at him now. The destined Damian al' Ghul, designed for greatness, was mere seconds away from begging for something he shouldn't want or need. From someone he didn't even know.
“Aw, sweetheart, who in their right mind wouldn't want you? Of course I do.” Their bond snaps abruptly back into place, sealed and secure for forever.
The burst of warmth shooting through Damian's chest is too much too fast. He isn't equipped to handle something so debilitating. It’s terrifyingly wonderful and overwhelming and meant just for him.
“See? Now you’re all mine!”
Embarrassing, high pitched noises escape his mouth.
“Oh, you’re too cute for your own good. Come here, puppy.” It was disgraceful how quickly Damian obeyed.
His mother doesn't seem to care, only squeezing him harder to the omega's chest. “Why'd the fates pair me with such a moody and dramatic pup?”
Damian could tell that his bonded wasn't seriously asking the “fates” anything, it was more like he was saying it to garner an amusing reaction from Damian. Well, two could engage in battles of whimsicality.
“Fated bonds are a myth.” He manages to keep his voice flat, just barely.
His mother's laugh is very much worth it. “Ha! I know a fella who would agree with you on that, but we'll just have to prove him wrong won't we?”
Damian is not sure why, but he has a sudden desire to not only prove this fella wrong but to smear their bond in his disbelieving face. Lord it over him even.
“Yes, mother.” Damian inches closer to the omega, content and whole. “This fella is an ignorant fool and we will make him suffer for it.”
“Uhh, I wouldn't go quite that far, but I love your passion pup.”
Down in the kitchen, Tim suddenly trips on a freshly mopped tiled floor, stubs his toe on a randomly placed chair, then sneezes so violently he gets a crick in his neck.