Chapter Text
The rooftops of Gotham were usually a place of discipline, sharp edges, and the rhythmic thud of combat boots against gravel. Tonight, however, the air felt different. It was heavy, charged with a static that made the hair on the back of Damian Wayne’s neck stand up.
"Jonathan, keep up," Damian snapped, landing gracefully on the edge of a gargoyle. "Your pacing is erratic. If Father saw you lagging like this, he would send you back to the farm for remedial training."
Jon Kent didn't fire back with a witty quip. Usually, he’d be hovering three inches off the ground, talking about a movie or complaining about his homework. Instead, he landed hard on the roof behind Damian, his breathing heavy and ragged.
"Jon?" Damian turned, his brow furrowed beneath his mask.
Jon was hunched over, his hands clutching his knees. His skin was flushed a deep, burning red, and he was radiating heat like a solar flare. "I… I don't feel good, D," Jon rasped. His voice had dropped an octave in the last five minutes, vibrating with a low, tectonic rumble.
Damian moved closer, his Omega instincts—usually buried under layers of League of Assassins training and Wayne pride—suddenly sparked. "You’re burning up. Is it red kryptonite? A toxin?"
Damian reached out to touch Jon’s forehead, but the moment his fingers brushed Jon’s skin, the air in Gotham seemed to shift.
A scent exploded from Jon. It wasn't the usual smell of laundry detergent and sunshine; it was something primal, deep, and overwhelming. It smelled of ozone, scorched earth, and a fierce, golden honey. It was the scent of a True Alpha manifesting—and not just any Alpha, but a Kryptonian one.
Jon’s head snapped up. His blue eyes were glowing, not with heat vision, but with the raw, molten light of his status. He sniffed the air, his pupils blown wide.
"Damian," Jon growled. It wasn't a name; it was a claim.
Damian stumbled back, his own scent—sandalwood, rain, and expensive ink—flaring in response. As an Omega who had manifested a year prior, Damian was well-acquainted with the biological hierarchy, but he had never felt a presence this heavy. "Jon, control yourself. You are manifesting. We need to call your father—"
"No," Jon said. He moved faster than Damian could track.
In a blur of red and blue, Damian was hoisted off his feet. Jon tucked Damian against his chest, his arms locking around the smaller boy like bands of titanium.
"What are you doing? Release me at once!" Damian demanded, pounding his fists against Jon’s shoulders. It was like hitting a brick wall.
"Safe," Jon muttered, burying his face in the crook of Damian’s neck. He inhaled sharply, a low purr vibrating in his chest. "My Omega. Need to go home. Need to hide you. Not safe here."
"I am not 'your' anything! I am a Robin!" Damian hissed, though a traitorous part of his brain was beginning to fog over. The sheer volume of Jon’s Alpha pheromones was making Damian’s knees weak.
Jon didn't listen. He took off. He didn't fly with his usual grace; he launched into the sky like a missile, breaking the sound barrier as he headed straight for Smallville.
The Bat-Computer / The Watchtower
"State your status, Robin," Bruce Wayne’s voice crackled over the comms. "Superboy, you’ve left your designated sector. Return immediately."
Silence. Then, a faint sound of rushing wind and a low, possessive growl that made every Alpha in the room freeze.
In the Batcave, Bruce (Alpha) stiffened. Beside him, Tim Drake (Omega) dropped the vial he was holding, the glass shattering against the floor.
"What was that?" Tim whispered, his hand going to his throat. "That… that felt like a tectonic shift."
"That was Jon," Dick Grayson (Omega) said, swinging down from the rafters, his face pale. "And he sounded… protective."
Across the comm-link, the sound of Clark Kent (Alpha) scrambling could be heard. "Bruce! My sensors just picked up Jon. He’s—he’s manifested. His heart rate is triple the normal speed and he’s headed for the farmhouse. He has Damian with him."
"He what?" Bruce’s voice dropped to a dangerous level. "Clark, if your son has kidnapped mine—"
"Kidnapped? Bruce, he’s in a manifestation haze!" Clark sounded both panicked and strangely proud. "He’s an Alpha. He’s doing what the biology tells him to do!"
In the background of the comms, a new voice joined. Jason Todd (Alpha) let out a loud, barking laugh. "Holy hell! The kid finally grew a pair! He’s dragging the Gremlin to his lair? This is the best day of my life."
"Jason, not the time!" Dick yelled.
"It is totally the time!" Conner Kent (Alpha), speaking from the Titans’ comms, chimed in. "I remember my manifestation. I tried to nest in the middle of a Cadmus lab. But Jon? Jon went straight for the Wayne heir. That’s bold. Respect."
"Everyone, shut up!" Bruce barked. "Alfred, prep the jet. We’re going to Kansas."
"I shall prepare the tea, Master Bruce," Alfred’s calm Beta voice drifted through the cave. "Though I suspect a calm conversation may be difficult given the… aromatic circumstances."
The Kent Farm - Smallville
Jon didn't land through the front door. He smashed through the hayloft window of the barn, though he was careful to shield Damian’s body with his own as they transitioned from flight to ground.
The barn was filled with the scent of hay and old wood, but Jon wasn't satisfied. He looked around like a frantic bird building a nest. He spotted a pile of old moving blankets, some of his dad’s discarded flannels, and a pile of soft, sun-dried laundry Lois had left out.
He dropped Damian into the center of a pile of hay and immediately started circling him, dragging every soft item he could find into a circle.
"Jon, stop this madness," Damian said, trying to stand up. His cape was tattered, and his mask was lopsided.
Jon was in front of him in a second, his hands on Damian’s shoulders, pushing him back down. "Stay. Cold out there. Safe here."
"I am a trained assassin! I do not need a 'nest'!" Damian snarled, though his scent was betraying him, turning sweet and submissive despite his words.
Jon paused, his nostrils flaring. He leaned in, rubbing his cheek against Damian’s. "My Omega," he rumbled. "Stay."
Jon then began to strip off his own hoodie, tossing it onto Damian. Then he flew—literally flew—into the farmhouse through the back window, returning seconds later with a literal armful of pillows, Clark’s favorite heavy quilt, and, inexplicably, one of Lois’s silk scarves.
He piled them around Damian, meticulously tucked them in, and then crawled into the center of the mess. He wrapped his entire body around Damian, pinning the smaller boy to his chest.
Damian sighed, a long, defeated sound. The warmth coming off the Kryptonian was like a high-end space heater. The scent was intoxicating. His Omega brain, usually kept under a mental lock and key, finally won the battle.
"Fine," Damian muttered, his head drooping against Jon’s shoulder. "But if you tell anyone about this, I will end you."
Jon didn't respond with words. He just squeezed tighter.
Suddenly, Damian shifted, trying to reach for his utility belt to check his comms.
Jon’s eyes snapped open, a low, warning growl vibrating through his entire ribcage. "No."
"I am merely adjusting—"
"No move," Jon insisted, pulling Damian’s arms flush against his body and nuzzling into his hair. "Not my Omega. Staying here."
"I am literally right here, you idiot," Damian grumbled, but he stopped moving. The sheer force of Jon's protectiveness was weirdly… nice.
Outside the Barn - 30 Minutes Later
The roar of the Bat-Jet and the sonic boom of Superman’s arrival signaled the end of the peace.
Bruce jumped from the jet before it had even fully taxied, his cape billowing. Clark landed right beside him, looking sheepish.
"Stay back, Bruce," Clark warned. "The pheromones coming off that barn are… intense. If you go in there aggressive, Jon’s going to see you as a threat to his Omega."
"He is thirteen!" Bruce yelled. "And Damian is my son!"
Tim, Dick, Jason, and Conner all piled out of the jet.
Jason was holding a bag of jerky, leaning against the wing of the plane. "Five bucks says the Gremlin has already bitten him," Jason offered.
"No way," Conner said, crossing his arms. "Jon’s a True Alpha. Look at the reading on the bio-scanner. His power levels are spiking. He’s probably got Damian purring like a kitten."
Tim rolled his eyes, though he looked slightly dazed. "Can we focus? We have two high-level supes/vigilantes locked in a barn in a biological feedback loop."
Dick stepped forward, his Omega senses tingling. "I’ll go. I’m an Omega, he won't see me as a threat. I can talk to Jon."
"Like hell," Bruce said. "I’m going in."
Bruce took three steps toward the barn.
A low, thunderous growl shook the very foundation of the building. A piece of the barn's siding actually cracked from the sonic vibration.
"GET. AWAY," Jon’s voice boomed from inside, sounding less like a teenager and more like a god.
Bruce stopped. He looked at Clark.
Clark rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah… maybe we should wait for Lois to get back from the city? Or Alfred?"
"I am right here, Master Clark," Alfred said, stepping calmly off the jet, carrying a tray of sandwiches and a thermos. "However, I believe the young Master Jonathan is currently occupied with 'nesting.' Perhaps we should allow the children their moment before we attempt to dismantle the barn."
Jason snorted. "Sucks to be you, Bruce. You just lost your youngest to a farm boy."
"Shut up, Jason," Bruce and Clark said in unison.
Inside the barn, Damian heard the chaos outside and felt Jon tense up. Jon’s grip tightened, his heart thudding like a drum against Damian’s back.
"They're loud," Jon whispered into Damian’s ear.
"They are insufferable," Damian agreed, closing his eyes. He felt Jon’s nose brush against his scent gland, marking him again. Damian leaned back into the warmth. "But for now… we stay."
Jon let out a happy, vibrating hum. "My Omega."
"Don't push it, Kent."
The atmosphere outside the Kent barn was thick enough to cut with a Batarang. The smell of a newly manifested Kryptonian Alpha was something the world hadn't experienced since Clark Kent hit puberty in the mid-80s, and back then, he hadn't had a "target" for his protective instincts.
Now, the air was saturated with the scent of ozone, heavy musk, and something that smelled like a thunderstorm hitting a field of wildflowers.
"Okay, look," Clark said, holding his hands up as he paced a circle around Bruce. "We need to be tactical. Jon’s instincts are at an all-time high. His brain is currently a cocktail of testosterone and yellow sun radiation. If we go in there forcefully, he’s going to perceive us as a threat to his mate—er, his friend."
"He called him 'his Omega,' Clark," Bruce growled, his jaw set so tight it looked like it might crack. He was vibrating with a father’s protective Alpha energy, even if he was trying to maintain his legendary 'Batman' composure. "My son is currently being held hostage in a pile of laundry because your son’s DNA decided today was the day to become a territorial apex predator."
"Hostage is a strong word," Jason Todd drawled, leaning against the side of the Bat-Jet. He was tossing a piece of jerky into the air and catching it in his mouth. "I mean, look at the thermal readings, Bruce. The 'hostage' hasn't moved in twenty minutes. Usually, if Damian’s being held against his will, something is exploding."
"He’s right," Conner added, floating a few inches off the ground. He had his arms crossed over his 'S' shield, a smirk playing on his lips. "I can hear their heartbeats. Damian’s is slow. Like, really slow. He’s almost asleep. And Jon? Jon’s heart is beating like a drum, but it’s rhythmic. He’s happy. He’s content."
Tim Drake, leaning against the cockpit of the jet, rubbed his temples. As an Omega, the sheer amount of Alpha pheromones floating around the farm was giving him a massive headache. "Can we please resolve this? The scent levels are reaching a point where I’m going to need an inhibitor just to stand in the yard."
"Poor Baby Bird," Jason teased, though he threw a sealed water bottle at Tim. "Too many Alphas in the kitchen?"
"Shut up, Jason," Tim snapped, catching the bottle. "At least I’m not the one trying to 'calculate the odds' of a teenage brawl."
"I'm just saying," Jason gestured to the barn. "Jon is the youngest. Damian is the youngest. The 'babies' of the family just decided they’re the bosses now. It’s poetic."
Inside the Nest
Inside the barn, the world was soft.
Damian Wayne had spent his entire life being told that vulnerability was a death sentence. He was the son of the Bat, the grandson of the Demon. He was a weapon. But tucked into the crook of Jon’s arm, buried under a mountain of flannel shirts and wool blankets, he felt… quiet.
The "nest" was surprisingly well-constructed for something built in a five-minute frenzy. Jon had used his super-speed to layer the blankets in a way that trapped heat perfectly.
Jon was currently half-draping his body over Damian. Every time Damian even twitched a finger, Jon’s grip would tighten.
"Jon," Damian whispered. "The circulation in my left arm is becoming a concern."
Jon’s response was a low, rumbling vibration in his chest—a Kryptonian version of a purr. He nuzzled his face into Damian’s hair, inhaling deeply. "Safe. My Omega. No go."
Damian sighed, closing his eyes. "I am not going anywhere, you bumbling farm boy. Mostly because I cannot move my legs. But also because it is… acceptable here."
Damian felt a strange sense of pride. He had seen Alphas manifest before—Dick had been a mess, Jason had been aggressive—but Jon’s manifestation was massive. It was pure. It was the kind of power that made the world stand still. And that power was currently being used to make sure Damian was warm.
Suddenly, Damian shifted his weight to get more comfortable.
Jon’s eyes snapped open, glowing a faint, electric blue. "Not my Omega!" he barked, his voice cracking with teenage hormone-fueled intensity. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Damian’s waist and pulling him flush against his chest in a bear hug. "Stay!"
"I am literally your Omega, you idiot!" Damian yelled back, though he didn't fight the hug. "I was just moving my hip! Stop being so dramatic!"
Jon blinked, the glow in his eyes softening as he realized Damian wasn't trying to escape. "Oh. Okay." He didn't let go, though. Instead, he rubbed his scent gland—located along his jawline—against Damian’s forehead. "Mine."
"Yes, yes. Truly a feat of linguistic brilliance," Damian muttered, though he felt a faint purr of his own trying to bubble up in his throat. He suppressed it with the sheer force of his Wayne-inherited spite.
Back Outside
"That’s it," Bruce said, his patience finally snapping. "I’m going in. Clark, stay behind me. If he blasts me with heat vision, you’re responsible for the medical bills."
"Bruce, wait!" Clark called out, but it was too late.
Bruce marched toward the barn doors. He didn't use a gadget; he just shoved the heavy wooden doors open.
The scene inside was… not what Bruce expected.
He had expected a scene of chaos. Instead, he saw a literal fortress of blankets in the center of the hayloft. At the top of the "fortress," Jon Kent was perched like a dragon guarding gold.
As soon as the light from the outside hit them, Jon’s head snapped toward his father and Bruce. His lips curled back in a snarl—a sound so deep it made the rafters shake.
"Out!" Jon roared.
"Damian," Bruce said, his voice firm. "Get up. We’re going home."
Damian poked his head out from under a pile of Martha Kent’s quilts. He looked remarkably ruffled. His hair was a mess, and he was wearing one of Jon’s oversized hoodies over his Robin suit.
"Father," Damian said, his voice surprisingly calm. "Go away."
Bruce froze. "Excuse me?"
"He is in a state of hormonal flux," Damian explained, gesturing to Jon, who was currently glaring at Bruce as if he were a supervillain. "If you attempt to remove me now, he will likely destroy this barn and possibly the surrounding county. It is more logical for me to remain here until his levels stabilize."
"He’s nesting with you, Damian!" Bruce shouted.
"I am aware of the biological terminology, Father! I was there when it happened!" Damian snapped back.
From the doorway, Dick and Tim peaked in.
"Aww," Dick cooed, his Omega instincts melting at the sight of the nest. "Look at them! Jon made a little fortress. And he’s using Clark’s old cape as a base layer! That’s so sweet."
"It’s a fire hazard," Tim muttered, though he was busy taking a photo with his phone. "This is going on the secure server. I’m going to use this for blackmail for the next decade."
Jon saw Tim’s phone and let out a sharp, warning chirp. He pulled a blanket over Damian’s head, hiding him from view. "No look! My Omega! No look!"
"He’s so possessive," Conner said, appearing behind Bruce. He was grinning ear to ear. "Hey, Jon! Nice nest, kid. A bit heavy on the wool, though. Needs more silk."
Jon growled at his older brother. "Go away, Kon. My nest. My Omega."
"You heard the man," Jason said, pushing past Bruce to lean against the doorframe. He looked at the two kids and shook his head. "The Big Blue Boy Scout Jr. has spoken. He’s the Alpha of the house now. Sorry, Bruce, Clark—you guys are officially the 'old Alphas.' You’ve been replaced."
"I am not 'replaced'," Clark protested, though he looked more amused than angry. "Jon, son, we’re not going to take him away. We just want to make sure you’re both okay."
Jon seemed to consider this. He looked down at the lump under the blankets that was Damian. He reached down and gently patted the top of Damian’s head.
"Okay," Jon said, his voice dropping back to a more normal range. "But no touch. He stays."
"For how long?" Bruce demanded.
Jon tilted his head, thinking. "Forever?"
"Absolutely not," Bruce said.
"Maybe just until Tuesday?" Clark suggested hopefully.
The Afternoon of Chaos
Since Jon refused to let Damian out of the barn, the entire Super-Bat family essentially moved the party to the Kent Farm.
Lois Lane arrived home an hour later to find the Batman sitting on her porch steps, looking like he wanted to punch the sun, and her husband trying to grill burgers using heat vision because he was too distracted to turn on the propane.
"I leave for one afternoon," Lois said, stepping out of her car. She looked at the barn, then at the crowded porch. "Who manifested?"
"Jon," Clark said, looking exhausted. "He’s an Alpha, Lois. A big one."
"And he’s got Damian," Dick added, sitting on the porch railing. "They’re nesting. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, and Bruce is having a mental breakdown about it."
Lois smiled, a sharp, knowing look in her eyes. "Well, it was bound to happen. Those two have been inseparable since they were ten. Why is everyone standing out here?"
"Jon won't let us in," Tim explained. "He’s being very… territorial."
Lois rolled her eyes. She grabbed a plate of cookies she’d picked up in the city and marched toward the barn.
"Lois, wait!" Clark called out. "He might growl at you!"
Lois didn't stop. She walked right up to the barn, pushed the doors open, and stared up at the hayloft. "Jonathan Samuel Kent! You come down from there this instant and let that poor boy breathe!"
The barn went silent.
In the loft, Jon poked his head out. He looked at his mother—a Beta who feared absolutely nothing.
"Mom," Jon said, his voice small. "I’m nesting."
"I see that," Lois said, her voice softening but remaining firm. "And I’m very proud of you. But Alphas don't keep their guests in barns without snacks. Now, are you going to let me bring up some food, or are you going to make me climb that ladder?"
Jon looked at Damian. Damian looked at Jon.
"Cookies?" Jon whispered.
"I would enjoy a cookie," Damian admitted.
Jon looked back at his mom. "You can come up. But just you! No Dads!"
Bruce, standing fifty feet away, let out a frustrated groan. "I’m the one with the private jet and the multi-billion dollar satellite system, and I’m banned from a barn?"
"Welcome to parenthood of an Alpha, Bruce," Jason said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Grab a burger. We’re gonna be here a while."
The sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the Kansas sky in bruised purples and burnt oranges. On the Kent farmhouse porch, the scene looked like a bizarre crossover between a Justice League meeting and a disastrous family reunion.
Lois had successfully negotiated a "food drop-off." She had emerged from the barn ten minutes later, miraculously un-growled at, though she was missing her cardigan.
"He took my sweater," Lois announced, stepping back onto the porch. "He said it ‘smelled like home’ and added it to the north-east corner of the nest."
Bruce, who was currently vibrating with enough repressed Alpha energy to power a small city, looked up from his Stark-tech tablet. "Is Damian unharmed? Did he give you a signal? A coded message?"
Lois sighed, taking a seat next to Clark. "Bruce, Damian is fine. He was eating a turkey sandwich and using a pile of your old capes as a footrest. He looks more relaxed than I’ve seen him in years. The manifestation haze is making Jon a bit… intense, but he’s being incredibly gentle with Damian."
"Gentle?" Bruce scoffed. "He tackled him mid-air in Gotham!"
"It’s biology, Bruce," Clark said, reaching over to squeeze Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce instinctively stiffened, then forced himself to relax. "When the Alpha genes kick in—especially for a Kryptonian—the first priority is 'the heart.' Jon’s brain identified Damian as the most important person in his life, and his instincts did the rest. He’s not hurting him. He’s guarding him from us!"
"He’s guarding him from us!" Tim pointed out, sitting on a lawn chair and nursing a cup of tea Alfred had prepared. "I’ve been monitoring the pheromone output from the barn. The levels of 'Protective Alpha' are off the charts. If any of us—especially you, Bruce, or Jason—try to go in there, Jon’s going to go into a full-blown defensive frenzy."
Jason Todd, who was currently cleaning his fingernails with a combat knife, let out a loud, bark-like laugh. "I still can't believe the squirt is an Alpha. And not just an Alpha, but the kind that goes full 'caveman' on day one. I remember when I manifested. I just wanted to punch a hole through a brick wall and eat a five-pound steak."
Conner Kent, leaning against the porch railing, nodded. "I manifested in a lab, remember? I nearly took out a whole squad of guards because they tried to touch my leather jacket. But Jon… he’s got that 'True Alpha' vibe. It’s a Kryptonian thing. We don't just want to fight; we want to provide and protect. And since Damian is the only person Jon actually listens to, his brain just decided: 'This is mine now. I am the shield.'"
"It’s gross," Tim muttered, though he looked secretly fond. "The way they were looking at each other through the barn window earlier? Like the rest of the world didn't exist? That’s some high-level soulmate-bond garbage right there."
Dick, ever the optimist, beamed. "I think it’s sweet! Our youngest brothers, bonded for life. It’s like a fairy tale. Except the princess has a katana and the prince can move planets."
"The 'princess' will behead you if he hears you call him that, Dick," Jason reminded him.
Inside the Barn - 9:00 PM
The interior of the barn was dark, save for a few shafts of moonlight piercing through the gaps in the wood. It was warm—unnaturally warm—because Jon was radiating heat like a sun-soaked stone.
The nest was now a masterpiece of comfort. It was six feet wide, circular, and lined with every soft material Jon could find. Damian was currently buried up to his chin in a mix of Wayne-tech fiber-fabrics and Kent-family cotton.
Jon was behind him, his large frame wrapped around Damian’s smaller one. Jon’s chin was hooked over Damian’s shoulder, his breath hot against Damian’s neck.
"Jon," Damian murmured. The "haze" was affecting him too. As an Omega, being surrounded by a compatible Alpha’s scent during their manifestation was like being submerged in a warm bath of endorphins. "You are squishing me."
"Mmm. No," Jon rumbled. The sound was deep, vibrating through Damian’s bones. "Safe. You're safe. My Omega."
Damian rolled his eyes, but he didn't pull away. In fact, he leaned back into the heat. "Your vocabulary has diminished significantly since this afternoon. It is quite disappointing. I expected a more sophisticated manifestation from a Superboy."
Jon nuzzled Damian’s ear, his scent spiking with affection—a smell like rain on hot asphalt. "Don't need words. Just you. You're… you're mine, D. I’m gonna take care of you. No more Gotham thugs. No more Ra’s al Ghul. Just… here."
Damian felt a pang in his chest. He knew this was the "Alpha brain" talking, the primal side of Jon that wanted to hide him away from the world. Normally, Damian would find the idea of being "taken care of" insulting. He was a Robin. He was an assassin.
But with Jon’s heart beating steady against his back, and the quiet sounds of the Kansas night outside, Damian felt a weight lifting that he hadn't even realized he was carrying.
"I can take care of myself, Jonathan," Damian said softly.
"I know," Jon whispered, his grip tightening just a fraction—not enough to hurt, just enough to reassure. "But you don't have to. Not when I’m here."
Damian reached back, his gloved hand finding Jon’s hair. He tugged on it gently. "Then you had better ensure this 'nest' stays clean. If I find a single spider in this hay, I am leaving."
Jon let out a happy, chirping sound—a biological reflex of a content Alpha. "No spiders. I burned them all with heat vision while you were napping."
"You did what?"
"Just the spiders! Very precisely!"
Damian sighed. "You are an idiot."
"Yeah," Jon agreed, sounding incredibly pleased with himself. "Your idiot."
Outside - Midnight
The families had set up a campfire in the yard. Alfred had brought out a spread that made it look more like a high-end glamping trip than a stakeout.
Bruce was sitting on a log, his eyes fixed on the barn.
"He’s quiet," Bruce said.
"They're sleeping, Bruce," Clark said, sitting beside him. "I can hear them. Damian’s heart rate is the lowest I’ve ever heard it. He’s in a deep REM cycle. Jon is… well, Jon is basically a living space-heater for him."
"I don't like it," Bruce muttered, though the edge was gone from his voice. "He’s too young for this."
"They both are," Clark agreed. "But biology doesn't care about our timelines. Jon manifested early because his body decided he was ready. And Damian… Damian has been through enough trauma for ten lifetimes. Maybe his instincts decided he needed an Alpha who could actually make him feel safe."
Jason snorted from across the fire, where he was sharing a bag of marshmallows with Conner. "Safe? The kid is a nuke in a hoodie. If he gets a nightmare and accidentally flexes, he’ll level the barn."
"He won't," Conner said, his tone unusually serious. "Kryptonian Alphas are hardwired. We are most controlled when we’re protecting our Omegas. It’s the one time we don't lose control. Jon could have a building fall on him right now and he wouldn't move an inch if it meant waking Damian up."
Tim looked over at Dick, who was leaning his head on Tim’s shoulder. Both Omegas were visibly relaxed, lulled by the distant, soothing scent of the manifesting Alpha.
"It’s weirdly peaceful," Tim admitted. "Usually when we’re all together, there’s an argument or a crisis. But right now… it just feels like home."
"That’s the bond," Dick whispered. "It’s spreading. Jon’s Alpha scent isn't just about Damian. It’s telling the whole 'pack' that everything is under control. Even Bruce is starting to relax, he just doesn't want to admit it."
Bruce grunted, but he didn't deny it. He reached out and grabbed a marshmallow.
The "Morning After" - 6:00 AM
The first rays of dawn hit the barn, and with the morning light, the intense "haze" of the manifestation began to settle into a more manageable, permanent state.
Jon woke up first. His head felt clearer, the frantic, buzzing need to "hide and hoard" having transitioned into a deep, steady sense of protective calm.
He looked down at the boy in his arms.
Damian was fast asleep, his face tucked into Jon’s chest. He looked… soft. Without the scowl and the mask, Damian just looked like a thirteen-year-old boy.
Jon realized he was wearing his mother’s cardigan over his Robin suit, and that they were surrounded by about fifty stolen blankets.
"Oh man," Jon whispered, his face turning bright red. "I… I really did the thing. I nested. I kidnapped Damian."
He looked at the barn door and remembered growling at Batman. Batman. He had snarled at the Dark Knight.
Jon groaned, burying his face in a pillow. "He’s going to kill me. Bruce is going to kryptonite-punch me into the phantom zone."
Suddenly, Damian stirred. He blinked his eyes open, looking up at Jon. For a second, there was no snark, no Robin—just a sleepy Omega looking at his Alpha.
"You're loud," Damian grumbled, his voice husky from sleep.
"Sorry," Jon said, his voice dropping into that new, deep Alpha register. He tried to pull away to give Damian space, but his instincts flared up again. No. Mine. Keep.
Jon stayed put. "Um. Damian? You okay?"
Damian sat up slowly, the blankets sliding off his shoulders. He looked around the barn, then back at Jon. He took a deep breath, inhaling Jon’s scent, which had now settled into a permanent, comforting aroma of cedar and sun.
"I am," Damian said, his voice surprisingly steady. He reached out and placed a hand on Jon’s chest, right over his heart. "The manifestation is complete?"
"I think so," Jon said. "I mean, I don't feel like I’m going to explode anymore. But… I still really don't want you to leave."
Damian let out a small, rare smile. "Good. Because I have no intention of walking back to Gotham in your mother's knitwear."
Damian leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Jon’s. It was a gesture of total trust, an Omega acknowledging his Alpha.
"You did well, Jon," Damian whispered.
Jon beamed, his blue eyes sparkling. "Yeah?"
"Yes. Now, let us go face our families before my father decides to smoke us out with fear gas."
"Right. Good idea."
Jon stood up, and for the first time, he felt the true weight of his new height and muscle. He reached down and easily lifted Damian out of the nest, keeping him tucked against his side.
"I can walk, Jonathan!"
"I know," Jon said, heading for the barn doors. "But I’m an Alpha now. I’ve got a reputation to uphold."
"You are an insufferable brat."
"Your Alpha brat."
"Regrettably, yes."
As they pushed open the barn doors, the entire Super-Bat clan stood up from the campfire.
Bruce and Clark stepped forward.
Jon took a deep breath, stood his ground, and looked Batman right in the eye.
"He’s staying for breakfast," Jon announced.
Bruce looked at Damian, who was currently draped in three different blankets and leaning into Jon’s side. He looked at Jon, who looked ready to catch a bullet with his teeth if it meant protecting his friend.
Bruce sighed, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. "Fine. But Alfred is making the pancakes."
"Deal," Jon said.
And as the families headed toward the farmhouse, Jason Todd leaned over to Tim.
"Ten bucks says they're engaged by sixteen."
"No bet," Tim said, snapping another photo. "No bet at all."