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Slade should have realized how dangerous Dick Grayson was from the beginning.
He’d known the Omega was much smarter than others gave him credit for, had acknowledged the Omega’s competency more than once in their long dance of conflict and reluctant respect. Slade possessed enough intellectual and observational intelligence that he shouldn’t have underestimated him. He who had made a career out of reading people, of finding their weaknesses and exploiting them, had walked straight into the most elegant trap he’d ever encountered.
In the end, he had underestimated Dick. From the moment the Omega accepted his demand to have a child to replace the one that Slade lost, Slade had been defeated.
It took him some time to realize it.
The realization came in fragments, like light filtering through a kaleidoscope. A flash of understanding here, a moment of clarity there, until the pattern became undeniable. What was humorous now- if humor was the right word for this particular brand of cosmic justice- was that at first he’d felt victorious. At first, he’d thought that he’d managed to bring Dick Grayson down low, made the Omega something that was subservient and his.
The memory of that time was ironic now. He’d been so pleased with himself, so certain of his control. Slade had congratulated himself on his strategic brilliance, on finding the one lever that could move the immovable in his threats to the people Dick loved.
Foolish. So fucking foolish.
He hadn’t realized just how much the Omega would wind up owning him, instead. How long nights spent with Dick in his arms, long days watching him grow round and sweet with his child, would become the axis around which his entire existence revolved.
The first crack in his certainty had come three weeks in, when he’d found himself rearranging his entire schedule around Dick’s meal times. Not because the Omega had asked- Dick never asked for anything directly in those early days, too proud, too wary- but because Slade had noticed the slight tremor in his hands when his blood sugar dropped. Had noticed, and cared, and acted without conscious thought.
That should have been his first warning.
Maybe he should have known from the easy way that the little bird had agreed to the whole thing in the first place. From the way that he’d stared at Slade with eyes that were strangely unreadable before saying yes. There had been no tears, no pleading, no desperate attempts to negotiate better terms. Just that steady, measuring look, as if Dick were calculating variables in an equation Slade couldn’t see.
The flash of calculation that had raced through them visibly, just once, just for a heartbeat, had been so quick that Slade had brushed it aside, despite the way that it made his instincts sing. He’d dismissed it as shock, as the Omega’s mind struggling to process the magnitude of what was being asked of him.
He should have paid attention to those instincts.
His instincts had kept him alive through two wars, countless missions, and more betrayals than he cared to count. They’d never steered him wrong before. But Dick Grayson had made him sloppy, had made him want something so badly that he’d ignored every warning sign in favor of getting what he desired.
The boy had played him like a fucking violin.
Because now he was caught in a trap of his own making, an old, foolish bear who both set and sprung the hunter’s damn trap for them. Dick had him, had him in ways that Slade was never going to be able to get away from. Had his Alpha tied up in his scent, his skin addicted to his warmth, his heart hollowed out so that the Omega could crawl inside and make a home there, filling up all the space so there was little room left for anything else.
It wasn’t just the biological bond, though that was part of it. The way Dick’s scent had changed as the pregnancy progressed, becoming richer, warmer, tinged with something that made Slade’s Alpha purr with satisfaction every time he caught it. It wasn’t just the way Dick fit against him at night, trusting and vulnerable in sleep in a way Slade didn't often get when the little bird was awake.
It was the conversations. The slow, careful way Dick had begun to open up to him, revealing layers of himself that Slade suspected few people had ever seen. The sharp wit that could cut or charm depending on his mood. The way he worried at problems like a dog with a bone, never satisfied with surface solutions. The fierce protectiveness he showed for everyone under his care, a trait Slade recognized because he shared it.
It was the way Dick laughed at his own failures, genuine and unashamed. The way he’d started leaving books around the safe house, small tests to see what Slade might pick up and read. The way he’d begun asking Slade’s opinion on things that mattered, as if he actually valued what the older man had to say.
It was the gradual realization that Dick Grayson wasn’t just beautiful or brilliant or brave. He was truly kind. Genuinely, deeply kind in a way that should have been beaten out of him by now, given the life he’d lived. And somehow, impossibly, he’d begun extending that kindness to Slade.
Slade would burn the world down for Dick Grayson, but that was something he might do on a whim. What was becoming far more troubling was that he might just stop the world from burning if Dick asked him to put the fire out.
The thought terrified him. He’d built his entire identity around being unstoppable, unmovable, beholden to no one but himself. He’d learned early that attachment was weakness, that caring too much got you killed. He’d structured his life around that principle, had made himself into something harder than diamond and twice as sharp.
And then Dick Grayson had smiled at him over breakfast one morning, unconsciously cradling his barely-there bump, and Slade had felt something fundamental shift inside his chest. Some wall he’d spent decades building just crumbling.
He’d never been so completely lost like this before.
Lost, but not drowning. That was the strangest part. For all his panic about being out of control, about having someone else hold this much power over him, he wasn’t miserable. Quite the opposite, actually. There was something deeply satisfying about being needed, about having someone who looked to him for protection and provision. Something that felt suspiciously like happiness.
Dick hummed, not looking up from the knitting that he was still attempting, despite the way that he was failing at it pretty terribly. The Golden Boy finding something that he couldn’t be instantly good at. Well, that and cooking.
The knitting needles clicked together in an uneven rhythm, Dick’s brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to decipher the pattern he’d optimistically chosen. It was meant to be a baby blanket, though it currently looked more like a series of holes held together by good intentions and stubborn determination. Slade found it charming in a way that would have horrified his past self.
He probably felt Slade’s eyes on him. Dick’s situational awareness was too good for him not to notice being watched, especially by someone whose stare carried the weight that Slade’s did. The Omega had always been hyperaware of potential threats, and old habits died hard.
“You’re brooding again,” Dick said, shifting his arms that were half propped on his overly large stomach. His overly large stomach that contained Slade’s pup. The casual way he said it, without even looking up, suggested he'd known about Slade's presence for quite some time.
“I never brood, Grayson. I evaluate.” Slade said gruffly, the denial automatic even though they both knew it was bullshit.
Dick snorted with laughter, actually bothering to look up then, amusement dancing in his gaze like sunlight. The expression transformed his face, made him look younger, less guarded. It was an expression Slade was seeing more and more often these days, and each time it appeared, something in his chest went tight with possessive satisfaction.
“Yeah, that might be the worst lie you ever told me,” Dick said, setting down his knitting needles with exaggerated care. “And that’s saying something, considering some of the whoppers you’ve come up with over the years.”
The teasing was gentle, fond even. Nothing like the sharp-edged banter they’d exchanged during their years as enemies. This was something softer, more intimate. The kind of teasing that came from knowing someone well enough to know exactly where their buttons were, and caring enough not to push too hard.
“Come over here, Alpha,” Dick continued, his voice dropping into a tone that made Slade’s hindbrain sit up and take notice. “Your pup is making my feet sore again, so it’s your duty to rub them.”
If there were any question at all of who was actually in charge here, Dick wouldn’t have dared to phrase it as a command. The fact that he could- that he knew with absolute certainty that Slade would comply- was perhaps the clearest evidence of how completely the power dynamic between them had shifted.
As it was, Slade silently walked over and knelt at the Omega’s feet, his heart brimming with something that might just be joy at being able to serve his pregnant mate in even this small way. The word ‘mate’ still felt strange in his mind, weighted with implications he was still learning to accept.
Dick’s feet were swollen, the skin warm and slightly puffy. Slade’s hands, so skilled at dealing death, gentled automatically as they worked over the tender flesh. He’d learned Dick’s preferences over the past months. How much pressure to apply, which spots were most sensitive, the way the Omega’s breathing would change when he hit just the right angle.
“Better?” Slade asked after a few minutes, though he continued the massage because Dick’s soft sigh of contentment was its own reward.
“Mmm.” Dick’s eyes had drifted shut, his body melting back into the couch cushions. “You know, I used to think you were just good at hurting people. Turns out you’re pretty good at the opposite too.”
The comment was delivered lightly, almost offhandedly, but Slade caught the deeper meaning underneath. Dick had spent months watching him, evaluating him, learning to trust him in ways that went far beyond their original arrangement. It was a trust that Slade knew he hadn’t entirely earned yet, but one he was determined to prove worthy of.
“I’m motivated,” Slade replied simply.
Dick opened his eyes at that, studying Slade’s face with an intensity that always made him feel like the Omega was reading his soul. “Yeah,” Dick said quietly. “I can see that.”
The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken understanding. Slade could see the exact instant Dick realized the depth of what had happened here, the way his pupils dilated slightly as the full scope of his victory became clear.
“I won,” Dick whispered, wonder and something that might have been awe coloring his voice.
Slade’s hands stilled on Dick’s feet. He could deny it, could pretend that he was still in control, that this was all still part of some larger plan. But Dick would see through the lie, and honestly, Slade was tired of pretending.
“Completely.”