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Jason bites back a groan at the flash of what could only be Dick’s fingerstripes a rooftop over. The last thing he needs right now is Nightwing poking his nose in his business. He’s tired and achy and cold. The rains been non-stop all night and it’s soaking through to places that shouldn’t be possible.
Jason wants to go home. If it weren’t for the time-sensitive nature of the lead he’s chasing, the sight of Dick would definitely have sent him there.
Jason holds back a sigh, turns pointedly in the opposite direction. Maybe Dick will take the hint. Rain sheaths the rooftop, flooding Jason’s shoes through, and the sound picks up beyond his helmet. It’s louder than a jet plane, completely unrelenting, and Jason’s never been more thankful for his soundproofing.
He jumps the roof and continues towards the docks.
It’s the fucking night for it, he thinks darkly. A blue haze is settling over the city and Jason struggles to keep it straight as he moves, vision toying with him. The faltering light, magnifying in a million blurred reflections. Of course, crime can’t take the night off. No, every criminal in Gotham has to crawl out of the woodwork like snakes, freed by the anonymity the storm grants them.
The docks are worse for it. Jason lands on the closest warehouse, and surprise lands in his chest when the structure holds his weight. If the Narrows were bad, the harbour is downright awful. The gutters non-existent, either by ill-thought-out design or years of negligence.
He avoids the flash flood overtaking the ground below, the crash of the harbour greeting it, spies a few cloak and dagger deals that, frankly, aren’t his problem.
There. A beacon in the rain. The warm hue of a lantern his marks are too clueless or useless to do without. The arms deal Jason’s, unfortunately, been tracking all month.
They’re huddling in close to the furthest warehouses. Jason huffs. At least they’ve made it easy. Jason watches the group as they begin the exchange.
He feels the presence before he can even begin to see or hear it. Jason turns from the lantern to the dark slate of rain at his back, the city lights dim from their distance.
At least Dick doesn’t seem to be trying to hide. He continues towards Jason as he pre-empts, “I don’t have time for this.”
Dick stops besides him, peers across the docks to their friendly gathering. “Then we’ll make it quick. Where do you want me?”
Jason’s lip twists in annoyance. He considers the figures, a shiny x before them. It’s the fatigue in his limbs, the cold of the rain. The bad weather maybe, urging Jason to get this over with.
The relinquishing way Dick offers his backup.
Jason is soaked through with exhaustion, and he doesn’t need Dick’s help but something in him does purr at the offer, languid and pleased.
“Secure the crates.” Dick might as well be useful, the logical part of him argues. “I’ve got some catching up to do with Mask’s lieutenant.”
Dicks hum would’ve been lost if he weren’t so close. “Got it. One secured arms deal coming right up.” Dick tips his chin, sends Jason a flash of a grin.
They both move at the same time.
The cover the downpour grants them has Jason regretting every bad thought. The nights like ink and they transverse it easily. Every splash Jason kicks up drowned, every shadow swallowed. Jason has to strain his eyes watching for Dick on the opposite warehouse.
Once he’s sure Dick’s there, he jumps.
The group startles badly, gaze swinging between Jason and the sky above. He’d counted fourteen in total. Thirteen, as Dick joins the fray. The firework flash of guns overtakes the night, scattered and loud. Jason loses track of anything but the seesaw of gunfire and night, the jump between them. The weight of his fists.
He grabs the lieutenant before he can run for it, hefts him bodily toward the warehouse and leaves the rest to Dick. Or, he tries to. He gets partway, the wet sap of the lieutenant’s jacket as Jason heaves at it, the bucket of rain against his helmet.
The lieutenant pulls a gun with his free hand and Jason pushes his Desert Eagle harder into his gut. Fear sinks into his expression like a stone, the whites of his eyes grow until it’s the only thing keeping them company in the dark. This is why Jason doesn’t do subtle—a threat of violence is nothing without a little blood.
But before Jason can even start on either Dick’s slamming between both of them and Jason’s night goes flying. He drags himself from the wet concrete, snarl biting. Dick’s got his guy in a less streamline hold, stilted partway through his tackle to the ground. Dick grapples the gun and Jason watches it leave the lieutenant’s grip like flowing water.
Jason lunges forward. “Nightwing! Don’t—”
Two seconds. Dick’s grip shifts and all Jason’s intel drops limp from the hit to the temple. Jason yanks Dick’s arm back and Dick’s whole body moves with the force of it but it doesn’t matter. Jason’s mark is already out.
“What—” Jason honestly can’t remember the last time he’s been this incensed by Dick. He tightens his hold on Dick’s arm, pulling him further and the runoff from the warehouse hits them like bricks when they step through it. “—the fuck?”
Dick’s mouth ticks down. “What the hell?” Jason repeats. He grabs Dick’s other shoulder and shakes him. Dick draws back, attempting to pull loose but only manages to redirect them. An eave, a lick of shade from the rain and the cold takes its place, the patters echoing the space like a distant jackhammer.
“He was going to—”
“What?” Jason interrupts, fire-lit with incredulity. “Shoot me?”
Dick opens his mouth and Jason grits his teeth. He digs his fingers into the wet slide of Dick’s suit, already moving to unholster. He presses the barrel into Dick’s gut. “Oh,” Dick finishes.
Jason breath burns through him, glare a blistering chain. There’s no way Dick made that mistake, what the hell was he thinking—the rain, hitting the concrete floor all around them. The cold, eating at Jason’s skin.
Dick’s chest is heaving under Jason’s hand, and his domino keeps flickering like he can’t figure out where to plant his gaze. Jason’s not sure it’s actually left him though.
Jason lets his gun drop to his own side. “N,” he starts, bite fizzling out of him. “You good, man?”
“Yeah.” His lips quirk up, a wary flash of a smile. “Of course.”
Jason presses his lips in a flat line, studying him. Dick’s breath still ain’t coming through steady. There’s a frantic edge to him; limbs tense and gaze overly watchful. Jason loosens his grip. “What was that?” he asks this time.
Dick doesn’t answer for a while. The pit-pat of his lungs, pulling air like teeth. “I think—” Dick presses his tongue over his canines before continuing sheepishly, “I think you might be in pre-heat, little wing.”
Jason’s scowl comes back, an axe sinking home. He steps away, annoyance pricking at his skin and it sits like a fever. “Oh, so it’s my fault—”
Dick lurches forward. “No!”
“—you fucking flounced into my bust and messed up six weeks of—”
“No.” Dick lets his hands fall from reaching out and Jason bites his tongue. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” Dick sighs, presses one hand to his head.
Jason watches, unimpressed. Dick manages, letting the hand drop and meeting Jason’s gaze again, “Sorry. That was… I got a little—” Dick’s lips flatten and he blows out a breath of frustration. “I might have… overreacted,” he finally admits.
Jason’s eyebrow shoots up under his mask. Might have?
He spins on his heel, stalking back into the wall of rain. The dark glints around him and Jason studies what’s left of the exchange. Dick did clean it up pretty well, he acknowledges grudgingly, taking in the downed bodies and locked crates. There is a possibility the lieutenant will be lucid enough to interrogate once he stirs.
Jason weighs it over; the only conclusion he comes to is a sigh.
“Fucking Dick,” Jason mutters. Had to go and make Jason’s night longer. Had to piss him the hell off. Jason scowls to himself, everything in him balanced on a hair string. He’s fucking cold. If it weren’t for his jacket, he would’ve packed it up hours ago. He’s not sure how Dick’s still fucking standing considering he’s only—
Nope, don’t care. Jason hopes he gets hypothermia and drowns.
“Hood,” Dick’s voice reaches him. “Hood.”
Jason glances back over his shoulder, tracks Dick’s approach. At least he looks suitably drowned, hair flat ironed to his face. “Do you want me to,” Dick starts to say, closing the distance until he’s close enough to reach for his arm.
Jason shifts back, levels his Desert Eagle at Dick’s chest and Dick pauses. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for scenting?” Dick lets his hand drop with a twist of his lips. “Go find someone smaller to coddle, Goldie. I don’t need a fucking keep off sign following me around ‘cause you’re feeling angsty.”
“I wasn’t—” Jason moves to unholster his second Desert Eagle. “Okay!” Dick stresses. He holds his hands up, palms out. “Okay, fine. That was—fair.” Jason tongues the back of his teeth, eyeing him. Dick still looks a second from vibrating out of his skin and Jason feels prickly all over, which makes him even more pissed off.
Of course, Dick couldn’t just be annoying; he also had to be right.
They’d been doing fine, too. If the situation weren’t shot to hell, Jason wouldn’t have so many mixed feelings about the tight knot in his chest that thinks Dick scenting him would be really fucking nice right now.
“Do you want me to secure the weapons?”
“No,” Jason snaps, “I want you to put on a jacket on before you freeze to death. Let Gordon deal with it.” He drops his weapon and Dick drops his hands, chin tilting in confusion. “I’m going home.”
Jason starts to leave before thinking better of it. He narrows his eyes. “Do not follow me home, Dick.”
Dick opens his mouth before letting it snap shut with a click, which is all Jason needs to see. He leaves and if Dick does respond, the rain swallows it.
Everyones in custody. Weapons confiscated.
Prob got 24hrs if you still want to handle it.
2.22am
Let me know if you need anything
2.25am
Jason lets his phone drop, scrubbing his face with a sigh. He’s finally in bed but the aches are only getting heavier, and his skin is sticky despite his shower. His temperature can’t find a happy extreme to settle in and Jason’s—restless.
He can’t relax, even surrounded by the undeniable comfort of his nest. Soft and sweet laded, it should be enough. He’s not even in heat yet—not for a couple days at least. Jason’s done this before, in way worse circumstances. But his eyes refuse to close; he can’t find a comfortable position.
Jason shifts for the umpteenth time. He grabs his phone.
Alfred once told him his scent reminds a teashop, hints of cardamon and bergamot, sweet or bitterly metallic depending on Jason’s mood. Now, sugary sweetness attacks him from all sides. Jason regrets cutting patrol short. At least on patrol, he can throw himself off buildings without anyone saying anything. At least in the rain, the turn of too-warm caramel-like molasse was bearable.
It’s just because Dick was there, he reasons. Jason was fine all night. He’s gone through entire heats alone, it’s fine. He’ll be fine. He’s done it more times than he hasn’t. He’s not going to keel over just because… just because—
Don’t encourage him. He was being a territorial ass. He messed with your op.
A stone drops low in Jason’s stomach. Regret sticks to his mouth, worry he’s making the wrong choice. Jason doesn’t even know it’ll be any better with Dick here. They’ll probably just manage to piss each other off.
It’s better to leave it alone. He can steal some pack clothes tomorrow.
He was being overprotective, the quiet part of him whispers, of you.
Thanks
Still out?
3.17am
Jason grits his teeth in annoyance, throws his phone further down the bed. His skin burns, face heating. He shifts again and this time doesn’t stop until his blankets are in disarray and he’s burying himself in pillows.
The sheet his left foot’s tangled in buzzes. And buzzes. Jason tightens his grip on the pillows and huffs at himself. You did this to yourself.
Something leaps in Jason’s throat. He jerks himself upright and untangles the sheets.
Just finishing up
U good?
3.18am
Swing by when you're done
3.24am
Jason lets it drop and his feet hit the floor in rapid succession. His phone buzzes, but Jason’s already halfway out. He walks to the kitchen, picking things up at random for something to do.
“This is stupid,” Jason mutters. He’s looking down at a tea he doesn’t feel like drinking, steam settling on his skin and stomach turning. If you tell Dick to leave, he’ll leave.
Jason goes for his phone.
ETA 10
3.25am
The rap on Jason’s window is loud. He turns back to the living room just as the glass slides open.
“Hey,” Dick greets, cheer several levels higher than Jason left him. He ducks through, stepping into the puddles from earlier and more rain follows him in. Jason frowns when he nearly stumbles. “You doing okay, Jay?”
Dick’s scent is stronger than Jason’s smelt in a while. Fresh earth and the faint promise of rain, so different from the storm they’ve been caught in all night, and it fills the room like he scrubbed his scent patches off on the way here. Despite himself, the knot under Jason's skin relaxes.
Dick straightens, and the cape on his shoulders drags the windowsill before enveloping Dick entirely. “Bruce,” Dick admits, a sheepish turn to his lips, “Just sent me back to the cave.” He’s losing the battle of hiding the way his teeth chatter.
Jason sighs at him. “Sit down before you fall down.”
Dick sends him a charming smile, but the clatters just get worse. “‘Kay.” Two lurching steps before Dick lets himself drop into Jason's couch. He curls into one corner, carefully tucking Bruce’s cape around himself like it isn’t twenty pounds of protective Kevlar.
Jason leaves him to get situated and comes back hefting three blankets and several towels. Dick’s eyes track his approach, domino since striped, but otherwise unmoving from the cocoon he’s made himself. Already, his hair is drying in spikes, curls frizzing across his face.
He is visibly shaking.
Jason drops the buddle to the side and Dick sucks in a breath. His eyes flick between it and Jason. “Are those from your nest?” Jason doesn’t respond, too busy sorting through his options. Dick’s demeanour droops slightly. “You didn’t have to ruin your nest for me, little wing.”
“It’s my nest,” Jason replies simply. Dick doesn’t have a retort for that, at least. He stays watchful, eyes following every one of Jason’s movements and the silence sits for a beat.
Eventually, Jason turns to consider him too. His eyes are a clear blue, and Jason isn’t too worried. He appears completely alert and Bruce wouldn’t have sent him back to the cave by himself if he were in any real danger. Still.
“Let me check your pulse.” Dick offers the inside of his wrist before he can even finish, and Jason gnaws at his lip. He turns the offending hand over, tugging at Dick’s glove. His skin is paler than usual and ice cold to touch, but his shakes have given way to a lighter tremor. Jason presses two fingers to his pulse point before he can hesitate.
Dick drops his chin onto his shoulder. He blinks for the first time in what has to be minutes, strongcalmalpha turns warmly pleased. “You’re being creepy,” Jason grumbles. Dick hums a note in acknowledgment but doesn’t actually move as Jason counts.
Jason sighs and lets Dick’s hand drop. “You should shower,” the logic part of Jason wins out, even though all he really wants to do is wrap Dick in his nest and call it a night. Dick straightens with a frown. “I’ll get you something dry.”
“I’m meant to be comforting you,” he protests.
Heat floods Jason’s face, and he bites back any embarrassed grumbling. It’s bad enough his scents a fucking neon sign at the moment, he doesn’t need to be more obvious. As it is, he’s hoping Dick doesn’t realise all his preheat instincts calmed the second he stepped through the window. He hits back, “You should’ve thought about that before you spent the last six hours slowly freezing to death.”
Jason raises an eyebrow at Dick’s immediate scowl. “My suit has thermals,” he recites with clear practise. Then, “And I’m fine.”
Jason grabs the bundle of towels off the couch and throws them at Dick’s head. Dick splutters, too slow to untangle his arms from B’s cape and Jason huffs, eyes crinkling in amusement. “Shower,” he repeats and leaves the room before Dick manages to retaliate.
The room around him is earthy and crisp and sugar-sweet. Jason’s chest hums in the beginning of a purr.
By the time Dick has re-entered, t-shirt and sweats loose and overflowing, Jason’s reheated some soup he froze a couple weeks ago and left and resettled in the nest of blankets he’s made about fifteen times. He’s sitting when Dick walks over and it was definitely the wrong choice. He watches Dick take everything in one at a time; the extra blankets and pillows, the food steaming on the coffee table, Bruce’s cape – carefully layered in.
There’s a kids cartoon running on low and Jason uses it as an excuse to look away, consciously refusing to fidget. “You look twelve.”
Dick stops in front of the couch. “This is nice,” he comments. He smells like petrichor and Jason’s shampoo and sweetpleasedalpha. “Can I sit?”
Jason scowls even as heat curls up the back of his neck. The prickly part of his instincts thinks it should be pretty obvious he made the nest for Dick and the rest of Jason decides he doesn’t care it’s unfair to find the question annoying. God, he doesn’t know why he thought inviting Dick over was a good idea.
He’s just going to be insufferable, smiling at the effort Jason’s gone to and still making him spell it out. “Figure it out,” Jason grumbles.
A pause. Jason lets his eyes inch over as Dick contemplates this. Slowly, he sits on the edge of the couch and when Jason doesn’t bother uncurling to bite his head off, sends him a blinding smile and settles. “Thanks for the clothes, little wing.” Then, “It smells nice in here,” like he can sneak the compliment in.
“Shut up,” Jason says, incapable of anything but grumbles now. His chest warms through, happy to have a packmate in his nest, even if said packmate is an idiot. Jason’s own scent is cloying, saccharine and oppressive. He thinks it would be much, much nicer with Dick’s sun shower controlling the room, but he’s not about to say that. “You don’t have to sell me, Dick. You’re already in the nest.”
Dick hums that same unapologetic note from earlier and Jason knows a lost battle when he sees one. He says instead, “I made you soup.”
Happyalpha rings out and Jason lets himself sink deeper into the nest, everything in him comfortable and heavy. He blinks back sleep for a while, listening to Dick eat and every so often, huff laughter at whatever Jason’s put on tv.
Jason wakes up to the lights turning off what can only be awhile later. The whole rooms quiet now, lit with darkness in a way that can only be his blackout curtains drawn in. He waits for Dick to wander back and instead listens to his quiet pacing stretch on.
Jason’s pretty sure Dick’s checked every room in the house at least twice by the time his weight drops down besides Jason again. Jason waits for the shuffle of blankets pulling close before saying, “I locked everything up.”
There’s a pause of movement before Dick continues. He makes a hushing note, then, “I know you did, Jay.” His weight settles closer and Jason blinks through the dark, languid and a little fuzzy from sleep.
He listens to Dick breath for a while before speaking. “Hey, Dick,” he says quietly. Dick hums and Jason waits a while longer. “You can scent me properly.”
There’s an immediate spike in Dick’s scent, a heady hint of ozone that Jason makes out to be protectivepossessivepleased. Light shuffling as Dick moves then another pause. “You sure?” he checks and only waits for Jason’s affirmative hum before tugging him into his chest.
Jason lets him deal with the rearrangement, relaxing despite Dick’s octopus-arms and it must be embarrassingly clear how comfortable he is because Dick starts purring at whatever his scent does before they even settle.
Jason can’t bring himself to care, blinking back sleep again as Dick carefully noses over every inch of his neck. He subsides, nose tucked into the crown of Jason’s head and his breath ruffles over Jason’s hair when he tilts his gaze and attempts to orient himself in the room.
Jason’s still resting against Dick’s chest but Dick’s managed to tuck him into the inner most couch cushions in a way that can’t be comfortable for himself. Their legs tangle together and Dick’s propped up ever so slightly in a way that allows a view of the room.
Dick doesn’t let him move further, he nudges Jason close again, and Jason lies with his own nose tucked into the base of Dick’s throat like he’s a wayward pup and not someone that regularly threatens to tear people’s throats out with his teeth. He breathes in damp earth and clear air and blinks once, twice before sleep settles over him.