Chapter Text
Tim didn't know what he had done wrong for his whole life to crumble when he turned fifteen. But something very wrong in the universe and space-time must have triggered all that chaos and sudden changes swirling around him.
Like a hurricane that arrived without warning and changed everything. Ruined everything.
One day, he was Timothy Jackson Drake. Son of the important socialite Janet Jackson and the great archaeologist Jack Drake. The next, an orphan, his mother gone while his father was in a coma for an indefinite period according to modern medicine, after an unfortunate accident with the private jet they were both on their way to Gotham for a gala event.
An event that Tim eagerly awaited because who knows, maybe they would even have some time to celebrate his birthday.
His parents hadn't said anything, but hope springs eternal and that was the worst mistake Tim made. Without realizing he had placed too much hope, becoming careless after months under the care of Bruce and Alfred, who were so unbearably good to him.
They were so good that Tim was afraid of getting too attached, feeling too much and ended up distancing himself first. At least initially.
But he let his guard down in recent months. He became very soft, contradicting the harsh and cold upbringing of his alpha parents who prepared him for an equally cold society that expected decorum and control from him at all times. Tim had a well-stocked trust fund ready, properties and even shares in Drake Industries as the rightful heir to his parents' business, all meticulously written by the Drake family lawyer in the will previously prepared by his parents.
But even though they had foreseen this type of situation and prepared themselves legally, along with Tim himself, for any insane alternative before it even happened.
Nothing could have prepared him to actually live through it.
One day, he's Robin. The faithful companion of the invincible Batman, his right-hand man and assistant. The next, he's stripped of his role, his position, his cape.
Why?
Because Bruce's only biological son, Damian, appeared at the mansion's door at age thirteen, bringing more problems than Bruce could handle. Resembling a little dictator, Damian behaved like a spoiled little assassin, pointing a katana at anyone who dared even breathe near him.
Not even Alfred had escaped Damian's turbulent behavior, but as the days passed, at least the butler had managed to earn some respect. He was the only one, besides Bruce, whom Damian didn't threaten with physical harm at every opportunity.
According to Bruce, Damian needed discipline, a purpose. Something that could anchor him in the right direction, bring him closer to his family and distance him from the problematic teachings of the League. And following Bruce and Dick's logic, Robin would be a great way for them to gain some control and create some opening for change in the boy's terrible personality.
He almost laughed at the irony of the situation. Just a few months ago, Tim had almost died at the hands of a Jason Todd possessed by the hatred of the Lazarus Pit. Precisely because of that uniform, that damned symbol of hope that acted alongside Batman. Robin.
A symbol that was now taken from him so easily, as if Tim were worthless, as if he were no longer worthy.
One day, Tim was a simple beta living his life on the fringes of a society dictated by secondary genders. Where alphas were at the top of the hierarchy and omegas at the bottom. The next, his body decided to betray him cruelly, which seemed to hurt more than any other betrayal previously mentioned because it came from himself.
It felt like a piece of him was being ripped away, several knives being plunged into his body, or perhaps it was just the pain of a late heat. His insides twisted and contorted as they transformed him into something else through intense pain and sweet sweat. A damned omega.
Everything exploded during dinner, which was supposedly meant to cheer Tim up after the tragic news of his parents' accident that morning and also, obviously, to celebrate his birthday. There were even some white balloons and a pretty lace tablecloth on the well-set dining room table. But it all ended up being just a pretty, well-arranged stage for yet another of Damian's tantrums.
Damian attacked him whenever they were in the same room, making sure to provoke and antagonize Tim. And anything and everything served as ammunition: his academic performance which Tim didn't even know how the boy had access to, bringing up the incident with Jason criticizing his combat skills and how he deserved the Robin position more.
Tim didn't know what he had done wrong to deserve so much harsh criticism amidst cold mockery. Damian not only hated him from the bottom of his heart, but clearly wanted him dead too. The memory of when the boy cut the ropes of his grappling hook last week during a test patrol for Damian was still fresh in his mind. If Tim hadn’t notice it in time, he would have fallen into his death a fall of at least ten meters tall.
Not to mention the countless daily attempts at stabbing and doses of poison appearing in his food and drinks. Because of this nonsense, Tim had lost weight he shouldn't have in this unhealthy routine that Dick insisted on calling an adaptation phase.
It was June 19th, his fifteenth birthday. It was supposed to be his day. It was supposed to be special and full of meaning. The night should have started with dinner at some fancy restaurant with his parents and ended at Wayne Manor, where Tim would eat chocolate cake decorated with plump, juicy strawberries, lovingly prepared by Alfred. Just like last year.
But instead, Tim was practically orphaned, lost his cape and was humiliated by a thirteen-year-old boy whom everyone insisted was family. He couldn't take it anymore. Something inside him finally broke after yet another attempt by fate to spit in his face.
Not after that meeting with a serious Bruce and an apologetic Dick last night, after yet another exhausting patrol, only to be told they were passing Robin on to Damian. A situation that left Tim so stunned that he didn't hear a single word the alpha and omega head uttered after dropping that bombshell on him.
His mind had been blank and pure static since he left that office, like a television channel with nothing playing. He wandered around the mansion like a zombie, feeling very much like one after a sleepless night.
Not after the call from the hospital early that morning informing him about his father's hospitalization and diagnosis, as well as the arrangements for his mother's funeral.
Not on his supposedly special day.
His mind, which had been buzzing and throbbing for hours, finally gave in, his aching, feverish body finally decided to surrender. Tim didn't remember everything clearly, but after Bruce's impatient reprimand and Damian's harsh words... Clearly, Bruce and Dick hadn't yet told the boy that the mantle was actually his, probably waiting for the patrol's moment to announce the news.
Damian was now Robin. And Tim was nothing.
Tim thought he heard something breaking. Maybe it was the Wayne's antique porcelain tableware that Alfred cared for so meticulously, maybe it was his mind, or maybe even his heart.
The lights in the chandeliers suddenly became very bright, the hanging pictures seemed to melt and blend with the paint color of the walls and a terrifying mixture of smells invaded his olfactory system, leaving Tim momentarily dizzy and nauseous.
Tim heard frantic voices in the distance, screams, grunts and whimpered as he felt his insides contract so strongly it felt like he was being stabbed in the lower abdomen. It felt like something was devouring his insides, perhaps an infection or an unidentified body, like in that movie where an alien bursts out of the astronaut's stomach, a movie he'd seen with Bruce many months before.
Before all those problems exploded in his face.
That's when someone with a strong, earthy smell picked him up, whispering things Tim didn't understand because someone was crying loudly and sobbing so hard it made Tim's whole body tremble.
Oh. The crying was coming from him.
Tim felt like a huge, enormous nothing at that moment. His body screamed in agony, he wanted to crawl underground and writhe until he became one with the earth. To cease to exist and perhaps, with that, stop feeling useless and disposable to people.
His parents had constantly abandoned him since childhood, preferring to be among excavations and inanimate historical artifacts than with their own son.
Dick treated him well, but he didn't show up much these days. If Damian hadn't gotten involved, he clearly didn't care about Tim anymore now that he wasn't the youngest. Alfred always had his hands full with the mansion and trying to teach some English morals to a little assassin, Tim didn't have the courage to add more baggage to his shoulders. Damian and Jason not only hated him, but they also wanted him dead and Bruce delivered the final blow, getting rid of him too.
Nobody wanted him around, nobody.
Tim could never get anyone to like him or stay with him.
Why? Why? Why?
What had he done wrong?
Why didn't they want him? Why didn't they love him?
If only someone would tell him what he had done wrong.
He could be good. He could do better.
"Tim!" again that strong, earthy scent. A scent that screamed power and control. It screamed Gotham nights.
"P-please… Don't leave me. I can be good…" Tim whimpered, clinging to that source of comfort with its earthy scent, as if his life depended on it. And it probably did, since he felt like he was drowning in pain and melting from the inside out. He had lava running through his veins, it had to be.
Please. Anyone. Don't leave me.
Someone answered something, but Tim didn't understand. The voice sounded muffled, as if they were underwater.
Tim didn't know if he was really underwater, he didn't feel wet or cold, quite the opposite, actually. His body felt like it was burning, he had never felt so hot in his life and his skin itched as if there was dirt under his clothes, so he ripped everything off. Leaving him only in his underwear and finally feeling some minimal comfort.
Everything seemed very bright when he tried to look around. His vision was blurred and distorted by the lights, faces and movements seemed to blend around him. Not to mention the oppressive smells, there were so many, all at once. Tim couldn't even distinguish which were coming from where, or differentiate the good from the bad. It was all too much, he felt overwhelmed. Dizzy. Confused.
Tim no longer remembered where he was, nor what was happening. He was lost in the confusion of sensations and burning.
Until he finally closed his eyes and clung to that familiar earthy scent, his hands gripping tightly as his nose buried itself in it like a lifeline.
It smelled of Gotham. It smelled like home.
And then, Tim's mind switched off like a light switch.
It was in this state of chaos and mess that Tim woke up hours, maybe even days, after that disastrous birthday dinner. He wasn't sure of anything anymore, really, his thoughts were confused as if his brain had been put in a blender.
For a few minutes, Tim remained with his eyes open and completely lost, his mind blank, just breathing and staring at the light gray painted wall. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt that wasn't his and was in a lot of pain, it felt like he'd been beaten up and fallen into a coma because of the painkillers Bruce had in the cave. It had happened before, after all.
But it was when he realized where he was and the state of everything around him that his groggy mind pieced things together. Somehow he had ended up in Bruce's room, on the king-size bed in the middle of a round, cozy nest made of crumpled, tangled clothes. And smelling the scent of heat in the air around him and the phantom pain throbbing in his lower abdomen, everything fell into place like pieces of a sick puzzle. He's a fucking omega.
He's now of an inferior gender.
If his mother hadn't passed away and his father hadn't been in a coma, they would have been so disappointed in him. Of course, Tim would add another item to the list of reasons to be hated and despised, he always did. He irritated people.
His eyes involuntarily filled with tears and he curled up into a ball, hugging his knees and letting out a muffled sob, which smelled wonderfully good, comforting him enough to cry and cry without restraint, until he had a headache.
And after what seemed like an eternity, Tim lifted his swollen, still teary eyes, observing the piece of clothing his hands held and his nose unconsciously sniffed. It was one of Bruce's jogging pants. The worn-out, short-toed ones that Bruce had worn for almost ten years, simply because they stretched well and were very comfortable, according to Bruce himself.
Bruce was a dominant alpha and his scent resembled wet earth after a drizzle, it was strong and nostalgic. It smelled like home. Simple as that.
That's when some blurry memories invaded his mind, of that earthy smell in his nose and someone calling his name. It was Bruce. So that was his scent. Tim concluded, bringing the fabric to his nose curiously.
As a beta, Tim had never smelled or perceived any scent, but now he felt so sensitive to them. As if he could go into a frenzy if someone tried to take that piece of clothing from him.
Looking around, he noticed that there were other clothes gathered there. Clothes from all those he loved most, considered important and from his family circle.
Dick's moss-green sweatshirt from Gotham University smelled strongly of caramel, which Tim thought made a lot of sense with the omega's personality. It was a very sweet, pleasant and quite comforting scent in Tim's perception.
A button-down shirt that he recognized as one of Alfred's many smelled of something herbal, like the many teas that the English butler loved so much. His beta scent was so mild and calming that Tim felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate with a single sniff of the thin fabric.
Tim didn't know betas had scents, it had never occurred to him to ask any member of the Wayne pack or his own parents if they could smell him. No one had mentioned anything before, so perhaps he'd never had one to begin with.
Even one of Jason's leather jackets was there. One that Tim remembered seeing him wearing weeks ago when he came to discuss territories and organize patrol areas with Bruce. Jason's scent was potent and as dominant as its owner, reminiscent of oil and gasoline.
An explosive and intense combination that perfectly suited the alpha.
Surprisingly, there was also a black turtleneck sweater that he remembered seeing Damian wearing at dinner. Tim sniffed it curiously and cautiously, even looking around, confirming for the second time that he was indeed alone in the room. It was as if the fabric were about to attack him suddenly, just like its owner used to.
Damian had a milky scent. A puppy.
His mind provided the answer like a second consciousness, making Tim mutter softly to himself, somewhat distracted.
But tears welled up in his cheeks again when he spotted one of his mother's favorite dresses. It was light red with soft, airy fabric, the one she always wore during Gotham's sweltering summers, the scent of cinnamon and apple making Tim cry softly with longing. He would never see her or smell her scent again.
There was also one of his father's expensive, imported suits, smelling of whiskey. Strong and spicy.
The scents of his alpha parents reminded Tim how much he had disappointed them. Having a beta son had already been a bitter blow to the Drake family's reputation, according to them, but now Tim had become an omega and made a bad situation worse.
Tim squeezed his tear-filled eyes shut, pressing his nose even harder against Bruce's jogging pants, wanting nothing more than to escape that bitter and unfair reality. He hadn't been able to stop crying and feeling miserable since he'd woken up.
That's when Tim heard footsteps and voices growing louder in the hallway, getting closer and closer to the closed door.
"…His cortisol and catecholamine levels were high and his vital signs were altered. Tim is also several pounds underweight, Alfred and I are already preparing a dietary plan to change that." Bruce's hoarse but confident voice sounded muffled through the door.
“That's good. I believe Tim won't need medication for any of this. Just a healthier routine should solve it: regulated sleep, a balanced diet and physical exercise." Dr. Leslie's familiar voice sounded.
Bruce had called Leslie and now everyone was talking about him in the hallway.
"But what's going on? Isn't Tim a little old to be presenting now? I thought it normally occurred between 10 and 13 years old…" Dick questioned.
“It's what we call late presentation in second gender studies. Tim is a recessive omega. His body didn't feel ready to present his second gender before, whether for internal or external reasons, until it reached a point of collapse that forced it." Leslie explained calmly.
"What do you mean? Is it really possible to control one's own presentation like that?" Dick's voice sounded confused.
"There are enough cases for it not to be rare, but it's not that common either." Bruce's voice sounded hoarse, making Tim want to cry again with a strange and sudden longing for the alpha.
"Yes. There are several factors, but it usually occurs with pups who have spent a lot of time without a pack present or even those who lost their packs very early, causing severe emotional stress during the years of olfactory gland development." Leslie continued.
"So you mean Tim's absent parents caused his body to not want to present his second gender?" Dick's voice sounded like thunder, palpable irritation dripping from his words.
"It's a possibility. But I would need to talk to him, know the details to assess his physical and mental state, before drawing any conclusions." Leslie replied.
"Shouldn't our presence help?" Bruce questioned. “Tim has been living with us for two years and has always seemed very comfortable and happy during that time.”
"Do you consider him part of your pack?" Leslie questioned back.
The silence was so loud that Tim wanted to disappear, not for the first time. He didn't think he could feel more pain than he already did or cry more, but apparently he could. It was as if a knife had been plunged into his chest, agonizing, sharp and very painful.
"I understand…" Leslie's voice sounded seconds later. "And how did you show this to him?”
"I never perfumed Tim or any of his clothes, if that's what you're asking. Tim had both parents and although I never smelled the pack scent on him, I thought it was because his parents traveled a lot and being a beta, he couldn't retain scents for as long, just like Alfred." Bruce answered logically as always. He wasn't wrong.
Betas didn't need to smell familiar scents with the same frequency and intensity as omegas and alphas. Their sense of smell wasn't very keen and scents dissipated quickly from their skin, in a way that meant betas frequently had to be constantly perfumed and scenting the pack's items.
"I would never look at Tim and imagine he was being neglected by his parents…" Dick commented quietly.
"From what it seems, Tim didn't consider you part of his pack, or didn't consider himself part of yours. And although he felt comfortable and happy, as you say, it didn't provide enough security or belonging for Tim to feel included in the dynamic and his body kept postponing the introduction until he got better." Leslie continued explaining. "But apparently that moment never came. You said he recently lost one parent and the other is in a coma in the hospital, that would be a huge shock for any adult, imagine a teenager still developing. Along with any other significant changes in his life recently that caused so much stress that his body went into a frenzy and unleashed the force…"
Dick let out a painful groan.
"He smelled rotten when he showed up, is that normal?" Bruce's tone sounded worried.
"Unfortunately yes, for omegas who presents late, but—"
Tim sobbed loudly, unable to endure any more blow after blow.
Besides being a pathetic omega of course his scent had to be repugnant, just like him.
The silence in the hallway and the sound of hurried footsteps did nothing to change Tim's pitiful state in the center of the nest. He continued sobbing even when the door opened, huddled up trying to make himself smaller, invisible.
"Oh! Timmy…" Dick's unmistakable voice sounded sadly.
And in the next instant, Tim was pulled by long, comfortable arms to a soft chest that smelled of caramel and comfort.
Dickie.
"What's wrong, pup? Does it hurt a lot? Can we get some pain medication…" Dick asked carefully, his voice showing nothing but care and concern.
Tim wanted to speak, but couldn't. His mouth only released painful sobs and whimpers, it was as if all his feelings were overflowing. It was as if they had opened the gate of a dam and the closing controls were malfunctioning.
Dick buried his nose in Tim's sweaty hair and without his knowledge, glanced at Bruce who stood in the doorway with a worried expression, but before he could say anything else, Tim was faster.
"A-aren't you smelling my h-horrible smell?" Tim questioned between sobs. "Why are you s-smelling me?"
Dick's face contorted into a frightened expression, followed by confusion.
"What are you talking about, Timmy?" Dick questioned, looking at his red, tear-filled face. "Your smell isn't horrible! You smell so good, little bird…"
"Don't lie to me!" Tim practically shouted, wanting to move away from Dick's chest and create some distance between them so he could properly express his dissatisfaction. But his body wouldn't cooperate, he felt weak and powerless. In fact, Tim wanted to sink into Dick's bare neck and pretend the outside world didn't exist. "Bruce said I smell rotten!"
"Did you hear that?" Dick glared at Bruce, who in turn widened his eyes like a deer in headlights.
"Timmy… You don't smell rotten, pup." Dick's voice was tender, placing a kiss on Tim's forehead before looking deep into his eyes. "You smell so sweet, like vanilla."
Vanilla. The smell of a cheap omega.
Those were his mother's exact words when she passed an omega wearing vanilla perfume at one of Gotham's many high society parties. And Tim cried even more, knowing that he carried within him the scent his mother hated most in omegas.
Dick panicked and so did Bruce, both of them widening their eyes, before the alpha ran out the door of the room.
"D-don't you like your own smell?" Dick asked confusedly, not knowing what to do.
Tim shook his head negatively, sobbing loudly.
"What smell would you like, then?" Dick asked strangely, never having experienced anything like this before. His own smell was becoming somewhat sour with despair from the stress of the situation, which he didn't know how to help or resolve.
Tim shook his head negatively again. He didn't want any smell.
He just wanted to go back to being a carefree beta, he wanted to have living parents again and to be Robin again.
He wanted to go back in time to when his world still made sense.
"Okay, okay… I think we should all calm down a bit." Leslie's voice broke through, the beta calmly entered through the door with a briefcase in her hands. "Hi Tim, I know you're stressed and I don't want to make it worse, but I'd like to examine you and see if everything's alright. Can I get closer?"
Tim sniffled through a muffled sob, swallowing back tears and blinking insecurely at Leslie.
"What kind of exam?" Tim asked in a hoarse voice, wiping his wet eyes, very embarrassed and sniffling. He clung tightly to Dick's sweatshirt, terrified of being left alone again.
"Nothing invasive, I promise. Just taking your temperature, measuring your blood pressure, checking your scent glands and your uterus… I can even get some pain medication if you have cramps." Leslie explained calmly and patiently, exuding a citrus scent reminiscent of clean environments.
Uterus. He would now have a uterus.
Not wanting to cry again, Tim swallowed hard and simply nodded.
"Okay…" Tim agreed, more interested in the cramps medicine than anything Leslie had mentioned earlier. "But Dickie stays!"
"Of course I'll stay, Timmy."
"Sure, you don't even need to get off Dick's lap for that." Leslie readily agreed with a friendly smile. "I just need you to face me, okay?"
Then Tim changed his position, sitting between Dick's legs with his back against his chest. It felt good to be hugged from behind like that, he felt so protected and warm near Dick, enveloped in his sweet and comforting caramel scent.
Leslie moved calmly and explained in a neutral voice everything she was going to do before touching him, which gradually calmed Tim down. He observed her using the stethoscope around her neck to check his heartbeat, then moved on to the blood pressure monitor in the bag, before checking his temperature and even asking him to open his mouth to examine his throat.
Tim felt like a child again, being held in someone's lap and hugged while a doctor examined him. It was one of the few childhood memories he had of his mother hugging and holding him close. After all, she never liked too much physical touch or clinginess.
The moment Leslie palpated his stomach, making a slow journey down to his lower abdomen with her gloved hands, causing moderate discomfort to the painful areas and asking where it hurt most.
That's when Bruce decided to return to the room, bringing Alfred and Damian with him.
Tim felt his cheeks burning at the sight of such weakness and imbalance in front of so many people he loved and sought approval from. Father and son at least had the decency to stand in the doorway while Alfred entered the room with a tray full of food.
As soon as Tim lowered his loose shirt, covering his stomach again, Bruce finally approached. He hovered at the foot of the bed while Leslie rubbed the glands on Tim's neck and wrists, collecting the viscous fluid with a cotton swab, just as she had done with the saliva moments before, storing each in separate collection containers.
Tim couldn't help but bring his nose close to Leslie's exposed wrist as she checked the glands on his neck. She noticed immediately and smiled slightly at Tim, who in turn felt extremely embarrassed and confused.
"I'm sorry! I don't know why I did that."
"It's okay, it's just impulses. Your body is trying to regulate hormone levels and uses the scent of pack mates or those closest to it for that." Leslie explained, taking off her white gloves and discarding them in Bruce's trash can near the door. "I imagine your lack of a strong sense of smell in recent years is also a cause, after all, all the smells are new and intense for you right now. Like a pup."
Leslie continued doing her things and checking on Tim until she finally stopped.
"It's alright…" Leslie announced as she put everything she had taken out of the case back. "In this first examination, everything seems fine, which is a great sign given the circumstances. All your glands are well-developed, expelling scent and oil correctly. As I was explaining to Bruce earlier, the foul smell your body exuded at that moment was purely due to the delayed presentation. Think of it like food that rots because it wasn't stored correctly, for example. In the case of late presentations, the scent returns to normal after some time with the right care and the speed with which they built a nest with familiar scents was fundamental to your improvement, Tim."
Tim blinked, surprised at how important scents were to alphas and omegas. His parents never seemed very attached to the concept of a pack, even though they were both alphas, so he never thought much about it. But apparently, it was what saved his life and stabilized his late presentation.
“We’ll need to do some more intimate exams to check the development of your uterus and the glands between your thighs, but only after your heat cycle has completely passed. For now, the samples I took will be enough for preliminary exams.” Leslie continued and Tim listened attentively, nodding even though he was already nervous about the upcoming exams. Tim thanked all the gods that she hadn’t asked to see those glands on the inside of his thighs right there, or he would have had to move to another country to escape the mortification.
“So he’s really okay?” Dick asked in a relieved tone, hugging Tim even tighter against his chest.
“From what I can tell, yes. Tim’s body just needs time to adjust.” Leslie replied, closing the bag with a click. “Besides, I also brought something to help with the cramps. I figured you’d need it.”
Leslie pulled a small white box with purple details from her lab coat pocket and handed it to Tim.
"You can take it every six hours if the pain persists and always after a meal, never on an empty stomach, okay? There are other remedies for cramps on the market, but as a recessive and newly presented omega, I prefer you use this one until your condition stabilizes. Ideally, it would be until your second or third heat, when your uterus has finished developing completely."
Leslie put her hands in her lab coat pockets while looking at him as she calmly explained everything. Tim appreciated this, as he didn't want to be treated as an invalid or, even worse, left out of his possible choices and information about the changes in his body.
"There are other stronger and more potent remedies on the market, but I prefer you use this one until further notice. These are the same ones my clinic provides free of charge to low-income omegas in Gotham. They work perfectly and have fewer harmful active ingredients for omegas' bodies, but if you want to change them in the future, please contact me so I can recommend the best medication for your condition." Leslie smiled gently at him as she gave all those explanations that Tim absorbed like a sponge.
Alfred and Bruce also seemed to be mentally noting all the details.
"If you have any questions, you can contact me through Bruce or send a message to this number." Leslie handed him a small, personalized white card with her name and professional number in a light green with leafy branches on the sides.
"Thank you, Dr. Leslie." Tim thanked her with another sniff, holding the medicine box and the card in his hands. Looking from one to the other, he felt a sudden weariness take over his body.
"You're welcome, Tim. I hope you feel better soon." Leslie smiled gently at him before turning to Bruce with a more incisive tone. “From now on, none of you will use any scent blockers at home, whether medication or patches. Right now, Tim needs what we can call scent therapy, both to get used to everyone's scent and to understand his instincts through them.”
“For how long?” Bruce asked worriedly. Probably thinking about how he would go out at night smelling like a dominant alpha and pissed off to fight crime.
“For a few weeks, I believe. At least until Tim isn't so stressed or sensitive to smells. Remember, no sudden changes, trips, or parties full of people. Tim needs routine, security and familiarity right now, his body needs to realize he's not in survival mode and regulate itself correctly to act like a healthy omega.” Leslie looked at everyone in the room, sighing slightly before turning to Bruce. “You said you drew blood from Tim earlier, would you mind providing me with a sample for some more in-depth tests?”
"Okay, follow me to the cave and I'll get one of the samples…" Bruce left the room first, gesturing for Leslie to follow him.
Tim looked at his arms in surprise, only now realizing that there was indeed a round sticker with a dog design on it, stuck to the crook of his left arm. It was one of the stickers Alfred had bought especially to appease Damian, who hated being pricked by needles.
"See you later, Tim, text me anytime if you need anything!"
Tim waved to Leslie, sniffing loudly, his nose already starting to run.
"Here, master Tim." Alfred finally approached, bringing a box of tissues.
"Thank you, Alfred…" Tim smiled weakly, feeling an inexplicable urge to cry again when he saw Alfred smiling at him with such affection and care in his eyes. "Urgh! I don't know why I keep crying."
"It's alright, Timmy. You can cry as much as you want, we're here with you." Dick kissed the side of his head and helped Tim sit sideways so he could sniff the older omega's neck as he had been secretly trying to do for the past few minutes. "The first introduction is always very overwhelming, it amplifies all your feelings and sensations, including the bad ones."
"You've been through a lot of stress these past few days, master Tim. I believe you have more than enough reason to cry." Alfred comforted him affectionately, bringing the tray closer to Tim.
There was a cup of tea, two warm toasts with butter and chopped apple.
"Eat, my boy, you need strength since you missed dinner last night, as well as breakfast and lunch today. You're already underweight and we have to do something about it." Alfred opened a small bedside table, the one Bruce used especially when he had to work and was sick or injured. "Unfortunately, the tea has gone cold. I'll be right back with a new one. Excuse me."
As soon as Alfred left the room with his tray in hand, silence fell over the room.
Dick scrolled through his Instagram feed while Tim ate his first toast with slow chews, his only free hand still gripping the older omega's sweatshirt as if it were his lifeline. Tim licked his dry lips thoughtfully, it was as if the flavors had intensified and he was discovering how good eating was, or perhaps he was just very hungry after so many hours without food.
Tim felt Damian's heavy gaze on him. The boy was still standing in the doorway, observing like the frightening little monster he was. But Tim was deliberately ignoring him, he didn't want to look at his childish face and see the degrading and presumptuous expression that Damian surely carried.
Tim had proven in every way that he was inferior to Damian, but the boy liked to kick a dead dog, or rather, he liked to kick Tim when he was already on the ground. Now he would have to find the strength to pick up the pieces of what remained of his perfectly thought-out and meticulously planned life.
Tim no longer had a compass, now he would have to brave alone a new and frightening side of the society of second genders, a side he didn't know if he was ready for, or if he ever would be.
He felt his eyes welling up with tears again and blinked hard, refusing to cry again, especially not in front of Damian. But he took advantage of the moment of distraction to finally blow his annoyingly runny nose, dropping the crumpled papers on the empty side of the coffee table before returning to his toast.
"Damn it, I need to call Jason! I promised I'd call as soon as Leslie gave a diagnosis…" Dick commented distractedly, kissing Tim's forehead, still staring intently at his phone screen. "I'll be right back, little bird, I swear I won't be long!"
Reluctantly, Tim let him go. Even though everything inside him screamed that he should never be separated from Dick, Tim knew he shouldn't be selfish. He's a good boy.
Even though it was hard to believe that Jason really wanted to know about his health, the alpha had lent his coat for Tim's makeshift nest, so he would give him the benefit of the doubt.
Dick gave Tim several kisses on the forehead before stumbling to his feet, bumping into the crumbling nest at the edges, leaving a sudden feeling of loneliness in Tim's chest as he watched the older omega leave through the door with his cell phone already to his ear.
Tim felt so exhausted and sore that he didn't even have the strength to say anything aloud, he was on the verge of fainting from exhaustion. Only the food kept him conscious and he only realized how hungry he was when he took the first bite.
Damian continued watching as Tim ate his second piece of toast, both in complete silence. And when Tim began to eat the apple pieces, the boy finally approached, carrying the small trash can that had previously been lying in the corner of the room near the door.
"What do you want, Damian?" Tim asked with a resigned sigh between bites of his apple, his voice devoid of any energy. His eyes barely left the small table where his food was.
"Why do you think I want anything, Drake?" Damian asked in a strangely polite tone, without all the biting and teasing he had shown since arriving at the mansion.
Tim finally looked at the boy, seeing his arms outstretched as he patiently held the trash can, looking at the soiled papers beside the empty toast plate and then back at Tim. Tim, in turn, sighed before throwing the papers in the trash can, watching Damian bend down slightly to place the trash can beside the bed.
Clever. Tim would definitely need the trash can again with the number of times he was crying.
But Tim felt unconsciously irritated, biting his last piece of apple harder than necessary, turning his head towards the window which was only partially closed. Letting Tim glimpse the orange sunset, the last rays of sunlight entering through the transparent glass and illuminating the polished floor of Bruce's room.
"You don't need to hold back, you know… It's just the two of us here, you can laugh if you want," Tim murmured, still looking out the window. His gaze was lost on the horizon and the back garden of the mansion.
"Why would I laugh, Drake?" Damian questioned in a serious tone, making Tim look at him again.
"Because I'm an inferior omega now, you've managed to prove in every way that I'm less worthy than you." Tim explained patiently, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You also got Robin's position, congratulations!”
"You're not inferior to me because you're an omega Drake, but because you didn't have the same preparation as me!" Damian replied categorically in the same serious tone, without jokes or laughter in sight. "I was trained since childhood to assist my father on his journey, I'm better prepared than you and clearly a better fighter too. Robin is mine by right as my father's son, it's only fair that I be his most loyal companion, if it were any other mantle I would take it too. Find another identity or give up the vigil, I don't care. Just forget Robin.
Damian's words made Tim's eyes well up again, hot, salty tears streaming down his cheeks to his lips. But his eyes drifted back to the window, the sun setting on the horizon below and Tim wept silently, contemplating once more everything he had lost in a matter of hours.
Robin wasn't his, in fact. But he was important, even knowing he was disposable to Bruce and would never be the favorite. Still, that was all he had that was good.
Even more so now that his position as Timothy Drake was compromised forever, he would never again be respected by society. Not while he was a single omega, without an alpha to care for and command him, as if suddenly Tim no longer had the capacity to think and decide things for himself.
Tim was a diligent student, he had studied the other genders while training to be the perfect alpha his parents expected. But when the presentation never came, Tim resigned himself to being a dull beta, but at least one who could still speak and decide his own life. Unlike omegas, who were treated as the property of their parents and later their spouses, as if they were stupid and incapable without an alpha or beta to care for them and were often used as bargaining chips between high-society families seeking alliances.
Tim had lost everything at once, he had nothing left. And he would still be at the mercy of those suffocating and unfair social rules. Tim couldn't stop crying.
"Why are you crying, Drake?" Damian seemed genuinely curious, if not bothered, but Tim ignored the latter. It was his problem, Tim had warned him he wasn't in the mood, Damian should have laughed and left when he had the chance.
"Because things will never be the same again… Because now I'm a useless, whiny omega, at the bottom of the social pyramid," Tim explained with a painful distance in his voice, afraid to think too deeply about what all this would mean for him from then on and collapse.
"You're not a useless omega, but a whiny one for sure," Damian replied promptly in a serious tone. This elicited a surprised, tearful laugh from Tim, who hadn't expected to find anything funny at a moment like that. Not with his mind constantly spiraling, just thinking about his future made his stomach churn with anxiety and his cramps worsen.
"Society hates omegas, Damian." Tim grabbed more tissues from the box that Damian surprisingly held out to him. He didn't even know why he was bothering to explain anything to Damian, it wasn't like the boy cared or anything. "I'll be hated for smelling a little sweet, called a slut just for existing and said to be incapable if I don't have an alpha by my side all the time."
Damian clicked his tongue audibly, his face contorted in annoyance.
"These white people… They're all stupid, honestly!" Damian blurted out suddenly, making Tim choke slightly as he blew his nose. "Omegas create life and are the reason more than half the world's population exists. Everything begins and ends with omegas. A pack without omegas is doomed to fail because they are key pieces in the family dynamic!”
Tim blinked like an owl, never having witnessed anyone like Damian defend omegas with such fervor. Or anyone, for that matter, except for the few supporters of omega rights who very timidly gained some attention.
"It sounds nice in theory, but in practice it doesn't work that way…" Tim let out a bitter laugh, throwing the soiled papers in the trash.
"Don't worry about what others say, Drake. In fact, forget them! My father chose you for a reason, your second gender doesn't make you weaker, that's nonsense from white men who want more power than they already have. It's all about control!" Damian's words and tone were strangely adult. Despite his childlike, twisted face and comically angry posture with crossed arms, the milky scent in the air betrayed his young age. "You won't shame this family with your insecurity and low self-esteem, Drake. Get rid of this as quickly as possible and assume a responsible position, alongside Grayson, as an omega of the pack!”
Tim didn't know how a thirteen-year-old could see so clearly through him or how such a small body could carry so much confidence, but it made him smile unconsciously. He had never heard Damian be so positive and supportive towards him before, perhaps this was the beginning of a necessary change between them, but that was a topic for another time when Tim wasn't feeling so vulnerable and distressed.
At least that whole conversation had distracted him, the tears had stopped and his negative thoughts had quieted down for now. But before Tim could think of anything to say, Alfred entered with a cup of tea so hot it was steaming and a sealed bottle of water.
Damian left silently while Tim took his cramps medicine and drank more than half the bottle of water in one gulp.
Afterward, Tim returned to silence, watching Alfred stack the dishes from his afternoon tea on the tray with the cup of tea in his hands. The calming aroma of chamomile worked wonders on his nerves, while the hot liquid warmed his insides until the pain medication took effect.
"I believe I owe you an apology, master Tim," Alfred's voice pulled Tim from his deep thoughts, startling him slightly.
"What do you mean, Alfred?"
“Master Bruce may be the world’s greatest detective, but he still has a lot of difficulty communicating as a pack leader, partly because he never learned the conventional way exactly how it works.” Alfred carefully placed the tray of dirty dishes on Tim’s desk, making sure not to crumple the various papers scattered on it. The beta’s face held a sorrowful yet loving expression. “Even being a family of detectives, none of us realized that you didn’t have a healthy relationship with your parents and how this lack of proper care was harming you in the long run. We should have suspected something was wrong when you spent more time running through the streets at night than in the house where you grew up. This family failed you, master Tim but I hope you know that now we see everything clearly now and that we are by your side, my boy. You are not alone!”
Alfred extended a hand to him, the beta’s herbal scent, along with his caring expression, made Tim’s already swollen eyes fill with tears again. Tim raised his hand and let it be enveloped by the beta's larger, more wrinkled hand, feeling the warm, comforting grip, allowing Alfred to perfume his wrist and spread the calming scent over his still somewhat sensitive glands.
His head was still confused and heavy, Tim felt uncomfortably hot and drained, but Alfred's words and gestures were like a soothing balm on his open wounds. Tim could never find enough words to thank Alfred for everything he had done for him over the past few years, he could only content himself with squeezing the beta's hand in his.
"Thank you, Alfred. You're the best!"
⋆⭒˚.⋆ 🦇 ⋆⭒˚.⋆
On the second night of his heat, Tim had returned to his own room in the mansion. He didn't want to further disrupt Bruce's routine, who was rushing back and forth with Dick, trying to reorganize schedules between patrols, daily work at WE and training Damian for his newest position, while making sure Tim always had at least one adult nearby. But Tim was purposefully staying away from that chaotic routine, ignoring any conversations he overheard about patrols and Damian's training.
He was so tired of lamenting and crying over everything he had lost. Therefore, Tim preferred to be in his room, which was familiar, quiet, with all his things present and the private bathroom stocked with his favorite products.
Tim felt more like himself after taking a hot shower with his favorite glycerin liquid soap. The one that was a favorite of omega mothers for their babies sensitive to smells and which Tim had secretly been a fan of since he was old enough to choose his own cleaning and self-care products.
It was at that moment that Tim finally looked at himself in the mirror for the first time since presenting himself as a recessive omega. He was as white as paper, his cheeks deeply flushed and his lips cracked and colorless. His body itself hadn't changed yet, he remained thin with prominent collarbones, bony elbows and knees. But according to Leslie, it was normal for omegas to gain a little more weight in the first few months after presenting themselves, due to medication and increased appetite, since heats burn a lot of calories. There would also be some physical changes, mainly more fat being directed to the lower part of the body to protect the area of the uterus and hips.
Being in the middle of the process of developing a uterus was a fact that Tim still struggled to accept. He stroked his lower abdomen whenever he felt a sharp pain or waves of aches, his eyes filling with tears when he remembered what this organ would mean to him from then on. That Tim would always be in an inferior, submissive position, below the alphas and betas.
To help cope with all the anguish and pain, a new nest had been built in his double bed. This one was much sturdier and fluffier than the first one Alfred and Bruce had hastily made two nights before. And this time Tim himself had built it, following instructions from Dick and Alfred, since the latter usually helped Martha, Bruce's mother, assemble hers.
Most of the clothes in the nest had been replaced with new ones because of all the sweating his body had been producing. Except for his mother's dress, his father's suit and Jason's leather jacket.
Tim had made the walls of the nest with the various pillows that had appeared out of nowhere in his room, along with several colorful and extremely soft blankets, clearly of the best quality. And they had been handpicked by Bruce and Damian, according to Alfred, on a trip father and son took downtown to buy groceries, both making sure to buy a pile of specific materials for Tim's new nest.
Each soft blanket was properly cleaned and perfumed by each member of the Wayne pack. The blue one smelled strongly of Dick, the dark green one was Damian's, the black one was clearly Bruce's and the white one was Alfred's.
The blankets were used as pillowcases, creating a soft, fluffy wall and then the clothes were added on top, forming a soft circle filled with familiar scents. Tim lay in the middle and when he wasn't shedding tears like a damn fountain, he simply slept for hours, completely oblivious to the world.
Everything he needed was nearby. His cell phone, cramps medication on the bedside table, the laptop on the mattress outside the nest, with the charger already plugged in so he could watch anime and movies whenever he wanted. And on the other bedside table, there was a liter of water that Alfred refilled every few hours and the box of tissues and the trash can next to the bed.
The only rule established was that Tim couldn't close the bedroom door. Bruce feared that he might need something and no one would hear him call, or even that he might have an intense crying fit to the point of losing control, like during his presentation. He'd already had at least four crying spells in the last few days, but he wasn't out of his mind, just extremely melancholic. He was doing very well, until he wasn't anymore.
Suddenly his mind became too noisy and his anxiety hit so hard that Tim turned into a puddle of self-pity and self-hatred. And Bruce would immediately run to get Dick when he smelled the anguish and saw his tears, totally panicked and not knowing what to do. Luckily, the older omega had readily agreed to stay at the mansion until Tim felt better and was spoiling him with food and affection whenever possible.
Bruce wasn't exactly the most knowledgeable about omegas beyond the theoretical part, it was well known that the alpha liked other alphas. If Talia and Selina weren't indication enough of his preferences, even Brucie had already had some scandals involving alphas when information about some past affair leaked to the media. Bruce would sometimes try to date omegas, but the whole family knew it was just a smokescreen to avoid raising any suspicion about Batman.
But, in general, everyone was being extremely kind and caring towards him. They gracefully ignored his outbursts of confused sentimentality, as well as his abrupt mood swings every few hours.
Alfred always got him more tissues, made tea and distracted him by talking about the books he was reading. Dick hugged him and constantly perfumed him, chatting quietly about everyday things and the ongoing investigations of the Bludhaven police department, which he assisted with in his freelance detective work. Bruce hovered like a mother hen at the edge of his bed or brought work from WE to finish in his room, asking every now and then if anything hurt more than usual and if Tim needed anything.
Tim appreciated their attempt to bring some sense of normalcy to his situation, but it was difficult to feel any positivity when your life is turned upside down and you don't even know who you are anymore.
Damian was the least forgiving of his tears. The pup would growl and scold when he saw Tim crying and lamenting, demanding that Tim be a strong omega and stop putting himself down. This resulted in Dick scolding the pup and Bruce delegating various tasks, anything that would keep him away from Tim for at least a few hours. But Damian always ended up coming back and hovering around too, but silently, waiting for Tim to ask for something.
Like father, like son. That's what they say.
Despite everything, Damian no longer openly despised him as before, in fact, the boy was strangely subservient. Searching for everyone's clothes around the house so Tim could rearrange them in his bed while the others were being washed, even helping Alfred by bringing food to Tim while the butler was too busy with other chores.
It was strange and so out of character for Damian that Tim always looked twice when he received such kindness, but you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. He was too tired and sad to try to decipher Damian's changes in attitude, the in-depth analysis and contingency plans would have to come later, when Tim was fully in control of his emotions and mental flow.
For now, Tim was spending his days in bed, experiencing his ups and downs, mainly emotionally. But physically, it was like having a persistent, annoying fever, along with strong, unbearable cramps, but as long as he took the medicine Leslie prescribed, he only felt very tired and mentally exhausted.
Thanks to whatever deity in the universe, he didn't feel aroused at all, just sore and exhausted. Which Leslie explained via messages was normal.
Tim would only have sexual heats after his sexual awakening. As long as his omega wasn't interested in or recognized someone as a potential mate, Tim was safe and free from embarrassment due to inappropriate erections in front of acquaintances and family. For now, Tim only needed a warm nest built in a safe place with pack clothes, to be well-fed, hugged and perfumed every few hours by a pack member, which in this case was usually Dick.
Tim was sniffing against the older omega's chest on the third night of his heat, after dinner. He'd been feeling like trash ever since Dick's innocent comments praising his scent triggered a series of memories of his parents criticizing omegas. In that instant, Tim realized they were probably among those omega-hating people, he'd never really stopped to think much about the comments he heard until the moment he himself presented himself as one.
"Omegas are easy, Timothy…" his mother commented during a Gotham high society birthday party, where the omega birthday boy had received an arranged marriage as a gift from his parents. "They're good for breeding and cleaning, but we don't want someone useless by your side."
"When the time comes and you present yourself as an alpha, we'll find a good alpha for you. You'll have a strong and intelligent mate, a powerful duo just like your mother and I, taking care of DI's business and guaranteeing at least one alpha pup," his father added. Looking at the omega's parents presenting their future alpha to him with clear disdain.
"I would never let my son get engaged to an omega," his mother commented, her face contorted in disgust. But she quickly disguised it by clapping along with the other guests.
Tim wondered if, if they were still able to talk to him, they would kick him out of the house and take away his last name. This triggered another avalanche of tears, startling Dick, who stopped speaking mid-sentence to hug Tim tighter.
"What's wrong, pup?" Dick asked softly as Bruce took Damian out of the room, who was practically growling when he saw Tim crying again.
"I smell like cheap omega, Dickie. Everyone's going to hate me even more." Tim said between sobs, looking desperately at Dick's confused face.
"What? What's this story about cheap omega?" Dick practically spat the words, grimacing. "Who told you that, puppy?"
"My mom… She said vanilla smelled like cheap omegas. She'd hate me, Dickie." Tim sniffled and sobbed mid-sentence, unaware of how Dick's face darkened at his words. "My dad didn't like omegas either, they'd hate me. My parents said omegas were easy and—"
"Hey! Wait a minute…" Dick interrupted before Tim spiraled. The older omega took a deep breath, focusing on not letting Tim choke on his own sobs and not exhaling any odor of anger so as not to worsen the situation. He also took the opportunity to grab some tissues from the box beside the bed. "No omega is cheap, Tim. Just like other genders, we're just living our lives. Aside from reproduction, just like beta and alpha women, we're no different from them in anything else." You'll hear people say that omegas with strong personalities are easy and even promiscuous, but what matters is what you think of yourself, how you take care of yourself and your loved ones. We omegas help each other and however difficult and oppressive the rules of our society may be, you're not alone, Tim.”
Dick's speech momentarily stopped Tim from crying, making him pay attention to the words and try to reconcile them with his own social notions and knowledge. He allowed the older omega to wipe away his tears with the paper towels, gently rubbing his wrist against his cheek after wiping away the wet trail, while exhaling his loving and concerned omega scent.
"I'm sure my parents would disown me or sell me to the highest bidder for some random alpha…" Tim murmured, sniffling and clinging to Dick.
"Bruce and I would never let that happen, Timmy. If your parents didn't want you just because you're an omega, it would prove they never deserved you or your love, puppy…" Dick commented softly, gently stroking Tim's hair. "We'll take good care of you, don't stress about anything now. I'm here and I'll never leave, I'll always be by your side, little bird."
Tim sobbed softly again, hugging Dick tightly and looking up hopefully.
"Does that mean you still love me? You don't prefer Damian anymore?”
Dick turned his neck so quickly that Tim heard the bone crack.
"What are you talking about, Timmy? Of course I love you. I don't have favorites, you two are my cute little brothers!" Dick explained with confused eyes, stroking Tim's hair and looking deep into his eyes.
"It didn't seem like it…" Tim murmured. "At least not since Damian arrived. You were always with him or asking about him, I thought you didn't like me anymore.”
Tim shrugged and looked away, trying to pretend it didn't hurt and that the urge to cry had returned with force.
Dick, in turn, went through an intense change of expression in a short period of time. From confusion, to shock and then understanding.
"Oh, Timmy!" Dick hugged him so tightly that Tim almost stopped breathing. "I'm sorry, Tim. I had no idea it seemed like I didn't care about you anymore. The truth is, Damian is more volatile than we all expected. Bruce and I have been working ourselves to the bone to keep him in line lately. But you're so well-behaved and mature, little bird. That's why I ended up paying more attention to Damian, who urgently needs discipline and a healthier training routine, but I didn't realize I was neglecting you like this. I'm so sorry, Tim.”
Dick stroked Tim's back from the bottom up, his arms firm and comforting around him.
"I'm glad Dickie still likes me…" Tim murmured softly against Dick's shoulder, still trapped in his bear hug, but he would never complain when he was so comfortable.
"Oh, little bird! I'm so so so sorry!"
Dick's eyes filled with unshed tears, looking very distressed and regretful as he frantically sniffed Tim, rubbing the glands of their necks together in an attempt to calm each other. Much like what mothers often do with newborn pups to imprint their scent on them.
But Tim could finally relax in Dick's arms, inhaling his caramel scent and feeling some of the weight that had settled in his chest ease, easily letting himself be carried away by that care. The older omega kissed his sweaty forehead lightly, throwing the tear- and snot-stained papers into the trash can beside the bed while Tim snuggled even closer to him for a well-deserved double nap.