Work Text:
"Hey, Bryce! Can I borrow you for a minute?"
The woman's ears perk up at the voice, tail swaying. After a short pause, she stands up and walks over.
Nightwing smiles from where he's seated, still in uniform. It's a charming look, cheerful and laidback—but Bryce knows all too well the sharpness and mischief twinkling in those blue eyes. How could she not?
It's the same look all those years ago, when the first Robin took flight.
But now those pretty blues held a thinly veiled fatigue, as does the rest of him. Body slumped but not in a crefree manner, grin lazy but not purposely so.
She frowns at the thought, steps still languid and controlled.
Slowly, the panther kneels by the leather couch, head leaning against the other's leg. The position would have been a perfect example of soft, tender submission—if not for the fact that Bryce meets the wolf's gaze head on, neither shy nor bold. A reserved look, questioning and expectant.
A look that would have any other alpha offended, make their hindbrain angry at the subtle defiance. Yet her boys only seem to delight in this look, revel in her icy stare.
Afterall, she wouldn't be their's if not.
"Are you okay?" Her voice comes out rough yet gentle, a tender whisper just for the younger man.
His grin softens, not at all caring that his omega spoke unprompted. If anything, that's what he loves about her.
"I'm fine, Bryce," he assures, "just wanted to... be with you."
Bryce notes the hesitation, the lack of puns or jokes. She narrows her eyes again, then stands up in one fluid motion. Towering over the younger man, she watches as he swallows, a faint blush painting his face.
Fascinating, really. How her boys—some of the most sought out alphas and beta, with such confidence and assuredness—seem to melt before her. Like she held some sort of invisible control over them, a control so powerful and absolute.
The mere thought of it is equal parts terrifying and exhilirating.
She leans down until she can meet the wolf's eyes, glaciers against ocean blues. For a moment, they stay like that, simply existing like that, but eventually the woman asks again,
"Dick, are you okay?"
Her mate visibly shudders at the tone, gaze turning meek. A pause before he finally admits, almost guiltily, "I'm tired..."
The panther nods, satisfied with his honesty.
Suddenly, she seats herself on his thighs, one hand already snaking it's way into his hair. He stares at her wide-eyed and beyond enraptured.
A small part of her is proud, able to still surprise her mate but the larger part of her is focussed on comforting him, taking away as much as she possibly could.
But she knows it'll never be enough. She just has to be satisfied with this much.
She stares into his eyes, watching amusedly as they glaze over and his figure deflates as the tension already begins to disappear. She coos and purrs, a melody specially for him.
A tune sang to a young alpha every night, when he awoke from nightmares, of falling or watching others fall. The latter was always the worst.
The boy tries to return the call, but it comes out wet and stuttered. His mind is unfocused yet keenly aware of her voice, her warmth, her presence. Her claws, gently (always so gently) tracing his scalp, anchoring him.
She continues the song made for him, the language she learnt for him. The words sound so beautiful coming from her. An abundance of praise weaved into enchanting rhymes for him to decode.
Dick's body goes boneless, contentness in his scent as his eyes begin to close.
He wakes up in a nest, in her nest. He breathes in, the scent of their pack calming him as he nuzzles closer to his omega.
Here, he was safe, no more masks; he can be tired, can be himself.
For now, in the quiet of the room, he can be at peace.
___________________
Bryce stares accusingly at her arm, as if her glare would magically make it heal faster. Unfortunately, inanimate objects seem to be the only thing to not follow her commands.
She smiles at the absurd thought, exhaling as she leans back.
"It's good to see you."
Her comment manages to startle her second. A moment passes as he stays hidden, before eventually revealing himself.
The alpha looks tense, lips pulled in a grim line. He slowly makes his way to her bedside, standing stiffly as he sheathes and unsheathes his claws.
She notices bandages peeking from under his sleeves and collar, but turns her full attention back to him. Eyes calm and serene in the face of his storm.
He clenches his fist as he glares at her, eyes trained on her injury. She doesn't explain herself; he was there, he knows perfectly how and why she got it.
A robbery gone wrong.
One of the goons had pointed a gun at heavily armoured Red Hood. But the airheaded socialite Bryce Wayne had practically shove the larger male out of the way, the bullet going through her shoulder.
Actually, maybe he doesn't know why.
"You're so freakin' stupid," the wolf sneers, masking worry with anger, tsil swingging in agitation. "Why the hell did you do that? I had armour; that bullet wouldn't have even made a dent!"
"I couldn't let you get hurt."
"Liar!" He slams his fist right by her head, leaning over her frame and snarling. His next words are a sneer, ears pulled back, "you let me get hurt before, don't try being the hero now."
"I don't need a hero—"
Any other person she would've matched in agression, snarling back and biting and scratching.
"—I need you to for once in your Goddamn life not get yourself killed!"
But this is her pack, her alpha, her mate; this is her precious boy, and he's terrified.
They stare at each other, eerie green against serene blue. Ever so slowly, watching his reactions closely, she lifts her uninjured hand and places it over his cheek. The alpha flinches but doesn't pull away, instead placing his hand over her's and taking a shuddering breath.
"I'm here, I'm safe," she mumbles, loud enough for him to hear, "you haven't lost me." She swipes at Jason's tears, even as he mullishly shuts them.
"Lie with me," she whispers, tugging him along. It's meant as a question but it may as well be an order. The male clumsily tries to bury himself in her arms, hiding his face in her neck. He takes a deep breath of her scent, barely there. More like the muted smell of a beta than her sweet and spicy omegan one.
The wolf shudders, an embaressing cry leaving him as he noses at her. Holding her so tightly and closely, like he could bury himself into her very bones, never apart.
Bryce gently shushes him, petting along his hair while her other hand caresses comforting circles into his broad back. She croons, a tune uniquely for him.
"Jay..." she calls him tenderly. He doesn't respond, but she knows he's listening. Always so attentive. "Look at me, please dear?"
Slowly, the male cracks open his eyes, revealing glassy green orbs. All his anger, his frustration bleeding out and leaving a frighten alpha.
The same one who once laid in a cold damp warehouse, the only sound was the ticking of a clock.
"Please," the boy pleads, begs, desperate. He leans forward, nose-to-nose with his mate. He kisses her, short and aborted and oh so innocent. "Don't leave me. I promise not to fail you again; I'll be good, please, please—"
Bryce kisses him then. This kiss is firm but tender, long and sweet. All the things she feels but can't find the words to say. As she pulls away, the two stare at each other in silence. She swipes away his white bangs from his face, hand cupping his face again.
"I won't—as long as I can, I will never leave you," she promises, vows with as much sincerity as she can put into mere words. Jason sniffs and she kisses his tears.
"You don't need to be 'good'," she adds, "just be you, Jay; you're more than good enough for me."
The boy chokes on a whine, hiding his face into her neck again. He can't stand it—the sincerity, the softness, the patience.
He almost wishes for that time long ago, when they traded blows and words that cut too deep. If only because it was easier, simpler. To hate her, to resent her for what happened.
But he wouldn't give up what is happening for anything.
Bryce goes back to singing, that special tune for each of her kids. Similar but unique for every one of them.
Jason falls asleep there, curled into Bryce so tightly. Feeling so small but safe and content in her arms. Dreaming of a world where, they were just Bryce and Jason. Not Batman nor Red Hood.
Only a dream—but a beautiful one all the same.
___________________
Bryce's steps are quiet and barely audible as she makes her way to the kitchen. She's not surprised at seeing the lights on nor the presence of her other mate. He glares at the laptop in front of him, a bowl of dark coffee by his side.
It says a lot of how distracted the teen is, when Bryce moves behind him yet he barely stirs.
"What are you doing?"
The young beta shivers as her breath blows across his ear. He swivels to face her, the flush on his cheeks giving him a healthy hue.
"Bryce? W-what are you doing here?"
The omega raises a pointed brow, "I asked you first."
The teen shrugs, wringing his hands together. Bryce glances at his screen, only to frown at the familiar documents. The case, the one they've been working on for over weeks—the one even Alfred explicitly told them to shelve for the next day.
For all her unhealthy habits, defying the butler was never even considered.
"Just for that, I'm revoking your access from the Batcomputer," she raises a hand to stop his protest, "and you're not allowed to continue the investigation until you have two full days of rest."
The other looks at her, horrified and utterly gobsmacked. Like she just banned coffee or said that she'd give up the cowl—utterly absurd.
She gives a pointed look to his laptop.
For a moment, the two are at a tense standstill. Neither giving away. Whether it's principle or just plain stubborness doesn't matter.
Bryce recognises his minutes reactions, knows his train of thought; he's about to run off.
She quickly shoots out a hand, scruffing him just as the beta was about to sprint. The moment her hand was on him, the male goes limp, a puppet with its strings cut. His wide-eyed stare is incredulous but there's also traces of guilt.
"Tim..." She watches closely, expectantly as he slowly closes the tabs and eventually his laptop. "Tim," she repeats, tone hardening.
The boy's lips thin, as he looks away from her gaze. She doesn't miss his slight shudder. Reaching into his pockets, he hands her the pendrive.
She stares at him expectently, unwavering.
He sighs, defeated. And hands him all the other pendrives he has.
She counts them. Thankfully, all 20 are accounted for. She pockets them and looks at her mate.
Dark bags under eyes, a far too pale complexion and somehow being both jittery but also tired.
With all that in mind, she lets him go then clasps his wrist instead. Her grip is unyielding but not bruising, loose enough so that it's not opressive but tight enough to ground him.
He raises a brow, watching her as she does him.
"Let's sleep."
Tim starts to protest, but a low rumbling growl from his omega silences him. And so, she practically drags the other to her nest.
She immediately goes to fluff the pillows, rearranging their packs' clothe then tucking blankets here and there. As she does this, Tim stand just outside of the nest. He doesn't dare bother her, simply observing with both wonder and amusement.
Who knew there were so many ways to ouff a pillow?
His thoughts are interrupted by a soft coo. Snapping back to reality, his gaze shifts to the omega. Bryce lays in the center, watching with that uncanny intensity of her's. She croons again, beckoning and enticing.
Faster that he thought possible, he crawls to her side. He lays down beside her and embraces her from behind, then buries his face into her silky black locks. She purrs, a soft tune.
He recognises it as his, a calming and subtle melody.
Slowly, as he lays there with her, the tension and stress seems to basically evaporate from him. Though he would never say it—never needed too—he finds comfort in this. The vulnerability she shows them all, the warmth and comfort she provides—and the fact that they somehow return the favour.
It's scary, if he thinks too hard about it, which he does often; to give up complete control to someone else. To give them your love wholeheartedly, believing with utter confidence that they will treat your heart with gentleness.
Her hands that have seen their share of violance could be so tender with them.
"Love you," he whispers in her hair, two fragile words meant only for her.
She doesn't react, instead she angle her head to stare at him. Her blue eyes are so soft as she gives him a quick peck.
To the steady beat of her heart and the sweetness of her purr, Tim begins to fall asleep. For once, he doesn't dream; not of work, of made up situations. Instead, the void welcomes him.
It's familiar and comforting. He never feared darkness, because it reminded him of his family. It reminded him of his love.
It's a reminder, that he now has a home, one he can call his own.