Chapter Text
Damian wakes up with an elbow sticking on his cheek.
Damian groans, turns to get away from the elbow, and then smacks his nose into a hard chest. The owner grabs him wordlessly with a tired murmur, wrapping an arm around his back, and Damian leaves one uncomfortable situation for another. He’d push away if he could, but something was holding him back. It wasn’t the strength that was pressed against his back, the arm pressed underneath his shoulder blades was lax with exhaustion that Damian could easily take advantage of, but there was just something inherently wrong in the air. Damian didn’t believe in a sixth sense, but he was feeling antsy for no particular reason. He’d rather blame it on a supposed six sense than a random bout of anxiety.
Damian instead chooses to snuggle closer to the chest that he’d turned into. He tried to figure out who he was tucked against through feeling only, and judging by the lean muscle his nose was digging into, his best bet was Tim. The arm that was braced against his back was thinner in comparison to his other siblings. The only one with smaller arms, out of the bunch of them, was Damian. He imagined that’d change soon the older he grew.
Damian listens to the rustle of bed sheets. He didn’t know how many people had joined the cuddle pile, but what he did know was that he had supposedly fallen asleep alone last night. He wasn’t even in his room anymore. The mattress underneath him didn’t feel anything like his twin sized bed, and if it was Damian doubted that more than two people could fit.
Someone groans, Jason, and Damian cracks open an eyelid as if it’d help him see him. In reality, all it does is give him view of Tim’s red shirt.
“Dick, get your big butt off of me,” Jason growls, shoving his brother off of him. Damian hears a grunt. He then hears someone thud on the floor.
“Jason, what the hell? ” Dick growls back grumpily. He’d gotten a rather rude awakening.
Damian feels Tim rouse. He was the heaviest sleeper of them all, and his waking usually went through several stages. Any hopes of possibly getting away, if Damian had decided it to be the correct course of action, was thwarted when Tim’s arm tightened around him. He sighs out into Damian’s hair, tucking his head instinctively underneath his chin, and then hums contently as if he had some cognition of what was going on. Damian knew for a fact that Tim did not know what was going on because he usually forgot such moments when he was actually awake.
“I’m so hot,” Jason complains, pulling himself up. Damian hears him scratch his head. They didn’t usually use blankets when they ended up in a giant pile. The massive amount of body heat ended up warming up everyone as if they were in a giant oven.
Damian schools his breathing. He didn’t want to be separated from the close proximity he was sharing with Tim. He focuses on imitating a deep sleep, ignoring the pops that come from Dick’s bones, and Jason’s grumbling. He keeps his eyes closed with no tension, knowing that if he squeezed them that it’d give him away immediately, and he takes to breathing rhythmically. He remains motionless. Maybe if his brothers realized he was still asleep, they’d let him stay with Tim, and then Damian wouldn't have to worry about the distracting feeling that grows in his chest. The thing that was poking at him teasingly, making him irrationally antsy.
Despite his best efforts, Damian feels a hand wedge between Tim’s arm and his back, and it takes everything within his abilities to remain relaxed. He pretends to twitch at the movement on his back, mumbling under his breath, hopefully cementing the fact that he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. It was a stark contrast to how he first acted when he’d entered the manor. He’d slept lightly. The slightest of movements in his room would wake him. He wouldn’t relax. He had slept like a wooden plank. Now? Now it was different. Now he slept the entire night unless he had reason to remain on guard. He didn’t have to worry about protecting himself anymore. His pack had promised to take care of him when he was vulnerable, non-verbally, through their scenting sessions.
Tim growls. He tightens his arm over Damian’s back as the hand tries to remove it from him.
He hears a noise of complaint in the back of their assailant's throat. He inwardly groans. He knows Dick’s pouting anywhere.
“Tim,” Dick whines.
“Just leave him alone,” Jason says. “You spend enough time with Damian as is.”
“I just want to hold him,” Dick says.
“Go away,” Tim sounds out, far more coherent than before, and it had a lot to do with Dick.
Tim pulls Damian into him as much as he can physically manage, as if they weren’t already glued to each other, and Damian doesn’t mind too much.
Dick continues to complain. Tim’s growling grows in volume, and Jason sighs out in exasperation. This continues until several raps on the door grab their attention.
“Get dressed,” Damian hears his father say, “today’s the day we go out.”
Oh, Damian thinks, I don’t like that.
They’d been planning to go to the galleria for weeks now. Their schedules had finally lined up on this specific day, but Damian didn’t feel like it was a good idea anymore. That strange quenching in his heart wasn’t doing him any favors.
Tim groans in exhaustion. “Five more minutes,” he says.
“We won’t be able to beat the traffic if you stay in bed, sweetheart,” Bruce says.
Tim whimpers. “I don’t want to get up.”
Damian feels Tim’s body shift. Someone shakes Tim gently.
“It’ll be easier if you sit up,” was their father’s promise. Tim whines as he’s guided upwards, but he doesn’t let Damian go. He tugs him with him, keeping him in his lap, and Damian gives up pretending to sleep. He hums tiredly.
“Let the puppy go, Tim,” his father’s gentle voice coaxes.
“Dun want to,” Tim mumbles.
Damian feels himself being tugged out of Tim’s arms. Tim struggles for a second to keep Damian there, but when the calming scent of their father, the pack leader, erupts into the room Tim releases Damian in a submissive stupor. He goes limp and Damian flies up in the air. He’s pressed against a muscled chest which he recognized to be his brother’s. Jason.
“It’s okay, Timmy,” Dick consoles as Tim whimpers, and Damian could imagine him at his side. “You’re fine. We’re fine. You’re just tired. This will pass. You’re okay.”
Damian sticks his nose in Jason’s neck, right in the crook of it, and sighs as he inhales his strong, reassuring, scent.
Jason rumbles in pleasure. He keeps a hand over Damian’s back, and one arm underneath his legs. Damian was hooked on both sides of him, and he wasn’t intent on letting go anytime soon. He didn’t want to be alone. Not when he was feeling so strange.
“Let’s get you changed,” Jason mumbles as he leaves the room. They exit out into the hallway. Damian feels Jason shift his weight with each step as he walks, and finally Jason stops when he enters Damian’s room. He carefully deposits Damian down on his bed to inspect Damian’s closet, but in doing so Damian feels horribly disconnected from his pack. He whines, not unlike Tim’s earlier complaints, and he calls for Jason like a needy puppy.
Jason gives him a strange look.
“It’s okay,” he promises, “I’m just going to your closet. I’m right here.”
Damian clings onto his sleeve. Jason has to pry his fingers off to separate himself from Damian’s unforgiving grip.
Damian curls in on himself unhappily when Jason removes himself. He puffs out another whimper like he’d just been kicked, and Jason’s scent transforms from a reassuring constant to a concerned worry. Damian listens to Jason mess with the hangars in his closet quickly, like he was in a rush, and when Damian whimpers again Jason is quick to say, “Don’t worry, pup, I’m just getting your clothes.”
Jason pulls off a couple of hangars. He returns to the mattress, lays the clothes out, and then sits next to Damian. He frowns as he runs his fingers in Damian's hair.
“Are you feeling sick?” Jason asks.
Damian pulls himself up to throw himself in Jason’s arms. He wraps both arms around Jason’s middle like he was a log keeping him afloat, and he says, “Don’t leave me.”
“Do I even have to say it? I’d never,” Jason promises, running a hand over the curve of Damian’s skull. “Now, give me a clear answer, are you feeling sick?”
Damian shakes his head.
Jason’s frown tugs deeper. “Are you lying?”
Damian shakes his head again.
“Then what’s wrong?”
Damian peeks upward at Jason.
“Just want to be with you,” he says.
Jason stares at him for a second. His frown fades away. His face softens considerably, and Damian watches the corner of his lips fight in a battle to tug upward. “Is that it?” He asks, pleased, “You’re just feeling clingy?”
Damian nods.
Jason chuckles. He leans down and nuzzles Damian’s hair with his cheek.
“Frick, Dames, you’re going to give me a heart disease. You can’t use that line on anyone else, okay? I’m too greedy. I don’t want anyone to snatch you up.”
The last sentence sends fear through Damian’s heart. It’s sudden, short, and disappears as quickly as it comes. Damian wonders if Jason had felt it, he certainly looked surprised, but it passes when Jason asks an important question.
“Do you need help getting dressed buddy, or can I leave you to do it yourself?”
Damian feels his cheeks warm. This was beyond embarrassing, he was ashamed, but he didn’t want to spend one second away from his pack.
“Help me?” Damian whispers.
“Yes, pup,” Jason answers, grabbing for the clothes.
Damian allows Jason to maneuver his pajama shirt over his head. He raises his arms up to help him, and Jason tugs it off with a swift pull. He helps Damian get his head through the hole of one of his pack-scented black t-shirts, and then he lets Damian guide his own arms through the holes of his sleeves.
Damian’s pants are next. Jason helps him unbutton them, pull them off, and then replace them with a fresh pair of jeans. They smelled like the laundry detergent that Alfred liked the best.
Jason lifts himself off of the mattress once they're finished. He grabs hold of Damian, lifts him up in the air again, and Damian clings to him knowing that he wouldn’t be acting this way in any other circumstances. He was usually physically resistant to help, affection, and more. Jason must think it strange that Damian was acting so touch-starved, but he also seemed absolutely delighted with Damian’s reliance on him. It wasn’t the first time Damian had come to him to search for comfort, but it was rare enough to make it a special occurrence in the pack.
Jason crouches down with a grunt, making an exercise out of holding Damian, to grab Damian’s shoes and socks with extended fingers.
“We’ll put them on after I’m done changing,” Jason says.
They leave Damian’s room for Jason’s.
Damian is put down on a mattress again, but this time he isn’t as distressed by it. Jason’s bed sheets smelled like, well, Jason. Damian liked it.
Jason sniffs as he discards his shirt. He searches his closet for another one. He picks one without giving it too much thought. He pulls a red shirt over his head, pulls the edges down, and then starts the next search for a pair of pants.
Damian, not too interested in watching Jason change his clothes, closes his eyes. He focuses on Jason’s smell. He holds onto it as if it was his phone. Anxious to lose it, totally entranced, and careful with how he handled it.
Damian opens his eyes when he feels Jason help pull socks over his feet. Jason pushes his heels past his tennis shoes, and then he starts tying them for him. Though his face seemed impassive, Damian could see the concentration in his eyes, and he could feel Jason’s delight through their fortified bond. Pack liked helping pack, it was a way of showing love, and service was the biggest form of it.
“C’mere,” Jason says. Damian lifts his arms up, and Jason grabs him.
Damian allows himself to be carried back out in the hallway. Jason leads them both through the hall, down the stairs, and then out into the foyer where the rest of the family were fussing over each other.
“Jason!” Dick greets. “Damian! Don’t forget your coats!”
“Thanks for the reminder,” Jason says, sincerely.
Damian could imagine Dick beaming.
“You need to put on your coat, Damian, so I’m going to put you down. Okay?” Jason says.
Damian nods but he’s still not ready.
Jason puts him down. Damian isn’t eager to release contact, so he wraps his arms around Jason’s waist instead. He stays plastered to his side as Jason accepts two jackets handed to him by Alfred.
“Damian?” Dick asks, realizing that he hadn’t made one word, one sound, in the one minute he’d been downstairs.
Damian doesn’t respond. He hugs Jason’s waist closely.
“Damian?” Bruce asks this time, while he pulls Tim’s hands into gloves, “You okay, baby?”
Damian nods silently.
Jason puffs out a laugh. “What can I say? The squirt wants to be with me.”
Jason pulls his jacket over his arms, trying his best to keep Damian’s coat from getting tugged with the sleeves, and then he starts tending to Damian. He reaches down. He grabs one of Damian’s arms. He puts some strength into removing Damian’s arm from his waist to start guiding his arm through the coat.
“Looking sharp, munchkin,” Jason beams. The minute he lets the arm go, Damian slaps it back over his waist, and Jason starts working on the other arm.
When Jason’s done putting Damian’s coat on him, he ruffles Damian’s hair, and then says, “We need to go to the car. How about we hold hands?”
Damian likes that idea. He removes his arms from Jason’s waist. He then slips his small hand into one of Jason’s larger ones.
Jason rumbles in approval. Damian likes the sound. It means something good.
Jason leads Damian to the door. They all exit promptly for the car parked out front.
Alfred bids farewell at the door. Bruce gives him a big wave back after helping Tim hop in the backseat. Dick settles himself in the side passenger seat, and Jason helps Damian climb into the middle. Jason is the last to get in. He slams the door behind him.
“Tim?” Jason asks as he pulls his seatbelt over him, “Can you help Damian put on his seatbelt?”
Tim gives Jason a questioning glance, but he nods regardless. He reaches over Damian’s body to tug his seatbelt across his chest, and Damian watches him click it into the buckle.
Damian then grabs hold of Tim's arm, leans his head against his shoulder, and squeezes.
Tim raises his brows.
“Damian? Are you sure you’re fine?”
“Yes,” Damian says.
Tim examines Damian calculatively.
“He said he wasn’t feeling sick,” Jason says with a grunt. He shifts in his seat.
“He could be lying,” Tim points out.
“I’m not,” Damian denies. “I’m fine.”
Bruce starts up the car.
“Really?” Tim asks. “Look me in the eye. Tell me you’re not feeling sick.”
Damian does exactly that. He looks Tim straight in the eye without faltering.
“I’m not sick,” he promises.
Tim relaxes somewhat at the admission. He twists his body to press a kiss against the side of Damian’s head, making sure Damian knew he didn’t mean anything mean by his question, and then Damian feels a surge of love, appreciation, and thanks through their bond.
Damian returns the feelings ten-fold accompanied by I’m fine, it’s okay, and reassurance.
The car pulls out the driveway.
Damian looks out Tim’s window to watch the manor fade away.