Archive of Our Own

Even with the chill of the late autumn wind, Jason has to wipe his sweat-slick hands against his jeans to keep from losing his grip on the tire iron. Pulling the sleeves of his borrowed hoodie over his palms does little to help his grasp, his hands as shaky as they are freezing. The jolt of adrenaline that shoots through his veins every time he steals is unable to push through the perpetual exhaustion. He bites back his grunt of exertion, hyperaware of every minute sound echoing through the alleyway.

Jason’s puppy pheromones have the lingering sour note of hunger no matter how long it’s been since he’s last eaten, unable to be properly stifled when his glands are still developing. If scent patches weren’t locked behind the counter in the pharmacy, Jason would smother his glands completely, uncaring of the long-term consequences. He’s not foolish enough to try to shoplift something so risky, or to shoplift at all anymore after he got caught last time. The only reason the cops weren’t called on him was the mercy the store owner showed him when he burst into blubbering tears. He hadn’t lied, crying about the news of his Dad’s death and his increasingly sick Mama. The beta was sympathetic, letting him leave with a warning and the promise to never steal again. 

Jason wishes that was a promise he could have kept. He’s kept his word about the shoplifting, but that severely limits his options when providing for his little pack. 

It’s hard enough to nab tires without being seen, but his pheromones insist on flooding out of his body in incriminating waves. Hunger-help-pack-please-fear-help is all he’s smelled like since the day his Dad was arrested for the last time. He can’t help but wonder if Batman had helped to lock him away. Maybe if his Dad didn’t have to die, then Jason would have ended up in the same prison as him one day. That way, they’d finally have been together again.

It hardly matters now. His Dad is gone, killed by a nameless monster, and now Jason is the only one who can take care of his Mama. He has to step up and be the man of the house, just like Dad told him to. 

Jason does not have the pheromones of a pack provider. Anyone passing by the alley will have no doubt that he’s nothing but a hungry pup, body too frail to properly defend himself. Scent patches may be able to hide the vulnerability in his scent, but that won’t hide his knobby knees or jutting-out ribs. Besides, he knows better than to waste what little money he has on something nonessential, no matter how pivotal it could be for him to walk the streets no longer reeking of nearly-packless pup. 

He still has his Mama, no matter how much more faint their pack bond grows with each passing day. It’s like he’s swallowed a stone in the space where his parents pack bonds once found home inside his body. There’s not enough room for the fading bond of a sickly omega when he’s constantly trying not to choke on the stone. Sometimes, he’s able to shove the stone aside, able to gasp for air, but it's always there, taking up so much room. He’s terrified of the day he won’t be able to breathe at all, choking on something no one else can see. 

His entire body trembles as he continues working on removing the second tire, hating how rapidly he is losing momentum. He fears that even if he had been able to eat the day prior that his body would still lack the energy to remove all four tires. Jason has found the Batmobile and he won’t even be able to get a good payout if he can’t actually get the tires off the stupid car. While the full set would have been able to cover multiple months of rent, and at least a few loads of groceries, even just two tires will be more than enough to feed him and Mama for a couple weeks. 

Jason misses his Dad with a fervency he’s never had the time to come to terms with, but even he can admit that two mouths is a whole lot easier to feed than three.

His stomach is a perpetual ache. When he was still enrolled in school, back when Dad was around and could afford to cover the costs of education, he learned in health class that after a long period of hunger someone’s stomachs can shrink. They can no longer eat as much as they used to. Jason thought that meant that it would begin to hurt less over time. He must have misunderstood. 

Upon his own insistence, Mama ate the last of their granola bars last night. That’s okay though, Jason will provide for them both. He is going to get this stupid tire off even if he is a sweating, shaking mess by the end of it. 

No matter how many times he scrubs his hands onto his well-worn jeans, he can’t keep a good grip on the tire iron. Batman must have done something to make his tires extra difficult to remove, clearly trying to deter criminals like Jason. He knows what Batman does to people like him, but this is his best chance. He’s still figuring out how to pay bills, but he knows if they’re late on the heating again that it’ll be turned off this time. Jason doesn’t know if there’s enough blankets in the nest to keep both him and his Mama warm through the winter. It’s already so cold in their apartment that on the most frigid of nights, sometimes he can see his own breath within the den. 

Things are going to be different now, though. He just has to finish on the last three tires and he won’t have to be so cold anymore. 

The tire iron suddenly slips out of his hands with a loud clatter. Jason is unable to hold back his muttered curse as he turns around to grab it. 

He’s only just picked the tire iron back up when he notices the shadow looming over him. Batman, standing right there, watching him. He emits no pheromones and his breathing is utterly silent, truly as if he just emerged from the darkness. Even so, Jason has no doubt that he’s an alpha just by his stature. No matter how well-fed Jason may be one day, he can’t imagine ever growing up to be even half the size of Batman.

Jason can not help his immediate and instinctive puppy mewl, a cry for his pack to come save him. But his Dad is gone and Mama is sick, trapped in the nest. Jason knows what happens to lone pups on the streets but he never thought that it would be Batman who’d get to him first. He backs up as far as he can but the brick wall hitting his back makes him flinch. 

Suddenly, the tire iron feels much too small in his hands. It hardly counts as a weapon when Batman is so big. 

“Where is your pack, puppy?” Batman says, voice gravely. The underlying growl of his tone makes Jason chirp, another instinctive, pathetic cry for his Mama. But she isn’t coming, she can’t, not when it’s Jason’s job to take care of her. His Dad said so, and Jason refuses to break his last promise to him. 

The growl that billows out of Jason’s throat is more akin to a whine than anything resembling an actual threat. It does nothing to deter Batman from drawing closer, stepping between Jason and the Batmobile. “I am not going to hurt you,” he says, an obvious lie. Jason’s eyes flick around the alley, searching for an escape that isn’t there. There is no world in which a scrawny pup like him could ever outrun one of the strongest heroes in the whole world. There is no world in which a pup like him could ever outrun any alpha in the state he’s in.

“Stay back!” Jason hisses, holding up the tire iron in a weak attempt at a threat.

Batman stops, but he does not retreat. “I want to help you, pup. If you can tell me why you were taking the tires then I can-”

Jason cuts him off, “No! I’m not stupid enough to believe that! I know what you do to criminals like me!” He doesn’t allow himself to hesitate before lunging forward, using the momentum to get more force behind his swing of the tire iron. Scrounging up every last bit of strength in him, he goes to hit Batman right in the stomach.

Batman catches the tire iron like it’s nothing. Jason lets go, knowing he’s too weak to wrestle it out of the man’s hand. He recoils, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The sour milk of his pheromones floods further through the alley, like someone dumped an entire carton of rotten milk over the ground, alerting anyone nearby that there is a puppy in trouble. He turns tail, but he only gets halfway down the alley before grey and blue overtake his vision and Batman is once again right in front of him, boxing him in. Body caught between trying to stop and turn around all at once, he does actually trip this time. The sting of his palms is hardly noticeable over the painful pounding of his heart against his ribs. Some small, ridiculous part of him is scared that his heart will fracture the fragile bones of his rib cage, causing fragments to dig into his flesh from the inside, bruising him where he will never be able to reach.

He’s not going to be able to provide for Mama if he’s arrested. She’s never going to get better if Jason can’t get the money for her medicine. Dad said that he needs to step up and be the man of the house, to bring food to the table instead of always taking. Once Mama is fed and her body is once again able to heal, then things will be different. She’s gonna get better, but only if Jason is there to make that happen. He is not going to let Batman take him away from her.

“I am not trying to scare you. I simply want to help you. I know you would not be stealing tires if you were not in dire need,” Batman says, voice level. He looks like he’s about to say more, but he freezes. Jason didn’t realize how much warmth was in his expression until it’s gone, frozen over into solid steel. Batman is quiet for a moment, before he announces. “Pup, I need to go. I will leave the choice to you— if you stay here and wait for me then I can help you, or you can leave the tires behind and get away.” There is an urgency to his tone that hadn’t been there before. Jason doesn’t know what to make of it, but then Batman is gone.

With the zip of his grappling hook, he flies away, leaving Jason alone with the Batmobile. 

This is his chance. In some inexplicable act of mercy, Batman has freed him. Jason doesn’t see how this could be a trick when it would be so much easier to simply overpower him. He knows that Batman has a way to cuff criminals. He could have tied him up and left him for the police, and yet he refrained from even laying a hand on him. Batman could have smacked him on the nape for being such a bad pup, at the very least. He could have taught him a lesson the way adults like to do when they catch a thief, but he didn’t. 

Jason doesn’t understand what it means, but he will not let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Batman already caught him once, it’ll hardly matter if he’s caught a second time. The consequences will be the same either way. He knows the alpha said to leave the tires behind, but Jason can’t dare go home empty handed. Come morning time, his body will have nothing left to give. He won’t be able to wait another night to get enough money for a hearty meal. His stomach has grown its own claws, digging into the surrounding organs with a vengeance.

He only needs one tire, really. He can make do with one. He’ll buy Mama some medicine, and he’ll get food with whatever is left over. Rent isn’t due for another week or so. He has time. He’ll make it work, he has to. 

Batman hadn’t bothered to touch the tires before he left so the one Jason had already gotten off the car is still lying there, ready to be stolen. Ignoring the way his overtired body protests the movement, he turns the tire onto its side, ready to roll it. He’s not strong enough to carry something so heavy, so this is the only way that he can get it home. Normally he’d go sell his score right away, but that’s far too risky with Batman on the prowl. He’ll wait until morning. Everyone knows that Batman goes away when the sun comes out, he should be safe to sell it then. Maybe he’ll even be able to get a warm breakfast. 

Besides, there’s no way that The Batman doesn’t have a spare in the trunk. It can hardly be considered a crime if the car is still driveable in the end.  

Rolling the tire out of the alley and down the street, Jason has to stop to catch his breath several times, terrified that Batman will find him and beat him up for stealing his things right after he granted him mercy. Jason knows that he’s a criminal, but he’d rather be a bad guy who takes care of his Mama than to be really, truly alone. Everyone knows that a packless pup is a death sentence, and even if it wasn’t, it’s his Mama.

It takes so long to get back to the apartment that the sweat staining his clothes has grown cold, only increasing the full-body chills overtaking him. Though he doubts they have any hot water left, he can’t wait to wash up and cuddle in the nest with his Mama. There is nowhere cozier in the world than embraced in her arms. No matter how sick and out of it she gets, she never fails to nest with him. He can’t disappoint her, not when she’s counting on him. He can’t keep waiting for Dad to magically show back up, crawled out of his grave and ready for a second chance. Dad isn’t coming home this time. Jason is the only one who can be there for her now.

Even with how baggy his Mama’s hoodie is, it does little to warm him up now. The heating in his apartment building is shoddy at best, though it’s hard to complain when miraculously, the elevator is working, keeping him from having to somehow drag the tire up several flights of stairs. He wouldn't have been able to. His body would have given in before he even made it up a single flight.

When he finally manages to get to the den door, there’s hardly any relief to be found. The apartment smells like rot. It always does, like a bunch of decaying fruit has been left out for the flies. He’s surprised they don’t have more bugs with how overripe Mama’s pheromones are. Jason won’t complain. He knows it’s not her fault that she’s sick.

“Mama, I’m home!” He calls out, rolling the tire through the threshold. “I got another tire so I should be able to get your meds in the mornin’,” he tells her. He rolls the tire to the spot where there used to be a coffee table, before Dad had to sell it. He leaves the tire iron there too. 

Mama doesn’t actually approve of him stealing, but she knows this is the best way for him to earn money. It’s not like he can get a real job at his age. The only people who would hire someone so young are the exact sort of people Jason avoids. He’s not oblivious to the things street omegas and working girls have to do to survive, but no matter how much Mama’s illness progresses, she’ll never let him get that desperate. She told him once that she’d rather go weeks without food than to ever let anyone put their hands on him. No matter how much a prowling alpha may promise to pay, it’s not worth it. 

They might not be short on rent, unable to pay utilities, and with an empty pantry, but Mama would never let anything really bad happen to him. She loves him too much for that.

One of the few things he has left from before his Dad got arrested is his library card. It’s the one thing he can’t sell, and even if he could, he wouldn’t want to. When he’s waiting on opportunities to steal tires, he reads. Mama loves when he reads to her, even if she isn’t fully coherent to comprehend what he’s saying. Jason recently read the story of Ouroboros. He can’t help but wonder if the snake was still hungry in the end. Jason feels a bit like his body is gnawing away at its own flesh when the only way for him to be able to afford food is to steal and the only way for him to have the energy to steal is to eat. He is trapped in this cycle of hunger and the desperation to eat again and he’s afraid that once his adrenaline runs out that he won’t have anything left in his body to get home again. He hopes the promise of a decent payout will be enough to soothe him into restful sleep. Maybe he’ll be able to buy Mama proper groceries this time.

“Mama? Are you sleeping?” Jason asks, more to himself than anything. Wiping his brow, he walks over to their shared bedroom. It’s warmer if they nest together in the big bed. Besides, it helps soothe his puppy instincts to be curled up next to her than be a room over, wondering if her sickness is keeping her in agonizingly restlessness.

Mama is not in the nest. 

His scent burns with bubbling worry, “Are you going to the bathroom?” He says through the closed door. Sometimes she falls asleep in the tub if she’s taken too much of her medicine. Then Jason has to wake her up and dry her off. Sometimes she even needs help walking back over to the nest. He never complains about it, even when it’s difficult to support her weight when she’s so out of it. Once she’s dressed Jason tucks her in and cuddles up against her, hoping it’ll be enough to warm them both up. The blankets are the one thing in the house that none of them have been willing to sell. A nest is essential, sacred. He couldn’t dare to sell even one of the love-worn blankets they have even if he were unable to ever steal another tire.

The nest is one of the only things still lingering with his Dad’s stale scent. Jason would rather be hungry and snuggled up than sated and so very cold. 

He knocks on the door when Mama doesn’t answer, calling out again. She always greets him when she can, even when she’s not feeling well. She must have fallen asleep again. 

“Mama? Are you there? Are you awake” Jason asks, voice high with worry. He can’t help the instinctual rotting of his scent when his pack omega isn’t responding. “I’m gonna come in if you don’t say anything.” He is met with a scary sort of silence. There’s not even the pained groaning from when she’s feeling too ill to talk. 

He tries the handle and thankfully it’s unlocked. The second he opens the door he is overcome by a wave of rot-vomit-sickness-decay. There’s throw up all over the floor, mostly bile because Mama didn’t have anything left in her stomach to give up. Puking up bile is the worst and she’s in pain because he couldn’t get her food on time. He doesn’t even have anything for her now, nothing to ease her through these symptoms. 

Mama is laying on her back, eyes open. 

“Mama, what happened? Are you hurt?” He rushes over to her, almost slipping on the puddles of stomach acid. When he opens his mouth to heave in a gasp, the rancid taste coats his tongue and makes him gag. He fears that he’s going to have to scrape his tongue with a knife when this is over. He grabs her shoulder and gently jostles her. Her skin is so clammy. Her head rocks and she sputters. She blinks, eyes glassy and unseeing. When her lips part he sees there’s more vomit. Mama is still throwing up, choking on it. 

He’s never seen her this sick before. 

She gurgles on the vomit, the mess spilling across her cheek and into a small puddle on the floor. Jason tries to help her sit up but she’s somehow simultaneously stiff and boneless. She’s a dead weight and he’s not strong enough. Maybe if he hadn’t wasted all his energy on the tire then he’d have something left to give her, but he doesn’t. Mama is unwilling to be moved, her skin like ice. 

“Mama,” he gasps, the tears spilling over, “Please, what do I do? I- I don’t know how to help you, please, how do I help?” He sobs. “I wanna make it better but I don’t- I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, I- I don’t know what to do.” 

Jason wishes that his Dad were here. He wishes that his Dad had never been taken away in the first place. God, Jason wishes so badly that his Dad never went to prison, because then he never would have been killed there. Dad would be here and he’d know what to do. He’d know how to make it better. 

Mama said once that nesting makes her feel better. There’s no way she’ll be able to walk like this and after the whole Batmobile situation he doesn’t have the strength to carry her into the bedroom. He’s so sorry. He wishes he were strong enough. 

Jason wipes the vomit from her mouth and she still isn’t breathing right. 

Dad isn’t here to help her this time. Jason wants to hate him for it, for not being here, for not coming home, but he just really wants his Dad back. He wants his Mama. 

“Mama, I’m gonna- I’ll get some blankets, okay? Tuck you in the way you like? That’ll help, right?” He asks, as if she’ll actually respond. When she’s at her most sick, she never answers his questions. Mama doesn’t even react to how sour his scent is, but she probably can’t smell him past her own rot. She sputters again, a gagging sort of sound. “Mama, please,” he cries. She closes her eyes and then the trembling stutters to a stop. She must be trying to sleep it off. When Jason gets sick Mama tells him that he needs to rest so that he can heal.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises with a sniffle, hating the way the stench in the air stings his nose. Jason gets up and makes it all of two wobbly steps before he slips on the mess of bile and lands in it. His hands slide on the tile, unable to keep himself from bumping his head against the ground. He cries out, unsure if he’s more distraught over the vomit now on his face or the shooting pain. He keens, begging for his Mama in a way so instinctive that his puppy instincts howl with it. 

Mama has never ignored one of his keens before. He turns over and sobs into the ground, feeling more lost than he did the first night after Dad was put in jail, when it was Mama who wouldn’t stop crying. Jason knew he had to be strong for her, that if she saw him crumble that she’d never get up again. Jason wants to be that pillar for her now, but the sobs won’t stop spilling out.

Selfishly, Jason hopes that his Mama will hold him when she finally wakes up again.

He forces himself back to his feet and grabs a nearby towel, hating how stiff it is. He wipes off his hands and then tosses it to the floor to help cover up the mess. He’ll need to mop once she’s better again, if they can spare the water.

Jason’s instincts whine at the thought of getting vomit on the nesting materials but there’s no other way to make Mama better. She always wakes up after a good rest in the nest. 

He drags the blankets from the bedroom into the bathroom, ignoring the way his puppy instincts whine at the destruction of his safe place. He tries his best to keep the blankets from dragging through the mess on the floor, but he knows they’ll end up dirty anyway. They’re all out of laundry detergent. He’ll have to see if he can buy a small bottle after he sells the tire. 

Jason builds a nest around his Mama. He tucks the blankets in as cozily as he can when she’s stuck lying on the unforgiving tile. She doesn’t move once, not even a twitch. He makes the nest just big enough for the two of them. As soon as he’s finished getting the blankets just right, he curls up against her, wishing she would card her fingers through his hair and scritch at his scalp the way she does when he’s struggling to fall asleep. Jason turns so he can pillow against her chest. Despite how harshly he bites his lip, he can’t keep the tears from spilling over. The tears drip down onto her shirt, making even more of a mess. 

Mama is so cold. Even when he drapes a blanket across the two of them, he can’t stop trembling and she doesn’t get any warmer. Jason can’t help but rub his cheek against her chest in a self-scenting gesture. He won’t let himself fall asleep, not when he needs to look out for her. Mama is defenseless like this. It’s Jason’s job to look out for her. He needs to stay strong, but he just can’t stop crying. 

“Mama,” he whimpers, “I‘m gonna help you, okay? I- I got a new tire and, and it’s gonna get us lots of money. I’ll buy you new medicine, and maybe- maybe it’ll work better this time.” She doesn’t react, even her pheromones keep the same all-consuming stench of rot. Jason doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. “I’ll get us food, and detergent, and maybe we’ll have enough for one of those cheap blankets from the corner store. I know- I know they’re thin, but they’re soft and you- you deserve a new blanket. Just please, please wake up soon and tell me that you’re okay. Please, Mama, you gotta be okay,” his voice cracks as he breaks down into quaking sobs. 

He doesn’t know how long he lies there crying into her chest before his instincts growl at him that something is wrong wrong wrong about the den. Jason doesn’t have the highly-attuned senses that his Dad had, easily overwhelmed by his Mama’s distress, but something tells him that there’s an intruder in the den. He mentally curses himself for leaving his tire iron in the living room. When he pulls himself away from Mama and sits up, she’s all stiff. She’s even paler than she was before. It doesn’t seem like the nest did anything to make her feel better. He doesn't know how to help her, but that doesn’t mean he’ll give up. Jason will not allow anyone to touch his Mama.

He stands up silently, ever so careful not to slip again. The only thing in the bathroom even resembling a weapon is the old pair of scissors Mama uses to trim his hair. He clenches the scissors in his hands, knowing he’ll do anything to protect her.

Jason turns the handle silently. He’s only opened it a crack when suddenly Batman is there. 

He can’t help his yelp, another call for his pack omega to help him, to protect him, but Mama is sick and Jason is the one who needs to look after her. He’s so stupid, having the audacity to steal from Batman and actually think he could get away with it. Jason has trapped himself. He can’t even close the door when Batman is right at the threshold, boxing him in. Even if Jason could go out on the fire escape, he couldn’t leave his Mama behind. He won’t. 

Batman is going to arrest him, and then there won’t be anyone to help his Mama. She’ll get sicker and sicker and it’ll be all his fault. He was supposed to provide for her, and he’s failed all because he was greedy. It’s Jason’s fault. 

“I- I’m so sorry about the tire,” he stammers. “It’s there, it’s out there in the living room. You can have it back,” he offers, as if Batman couldn’t take whatever he wanted anyway. He’s three times the size of Jason, it would be so easy for him to overpower him. “I know, god, I know I’m a criminal but please don’t take me away. Please, I can’t- I have to stay here.” The tears spill over, as if they never really stopped. He can hardly gasp for air when all he breathes in is his Mama’s rotting pheromones.

“Is that your mother?” Batman asks.

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Jason pleads. “She- she’s not a criminal. Please don’t arrest her, it’s not her fault. Please, you can’t take my Mama away from me.” The words come out in blubbering sobs, sounding much too small. Batman will never take him seriously when he’s acting no bigger than an overemotional toddler.

Batman looks down on him. “I am not planning to arrest either of you,” he says. It’s hard for Jason to make out his emotions when his pheromones are undetectable. “She looks unwell. Can I take a look at her, pup?”

Jason knows that Batman protects the innocents, but this could be a trick. There’s no reason for Batman to believe him to be telling the truth after he threw away his second chance. “She needs her medicine,” Jason admits, desperate. “I was gonna- I needa get it for her and then she’ll be better.” 

Batman nods, but there’s no time for relief because he says, “She looks like she needs some help. I am going to step into the bathroom so I can check her over.” 

His voice leave no room for argument, and yet Jason can’t help but beg,

 “Please, don’t hurt her. Please, I promised I’d take care of her, I need her. I need my Mama.” His pleas do nothing to deter Batman. He steps into the bathroom, ignoring the mess on the floor. The only reason he doesn’t have to push past Jason is when he instinctively takes a step back, cowardly and terrified. Jason can do nothing but watch as Batman squats beside his Mama, just outside the nest, inspecting her. Mama doesn’t protest even when he puts a hand on her neck, and then on her chest. Jason has to bite his tongue to keep from demanding that Batman get his hands off her. Mama wouldn’t want any man touching her while she’s sleeping.

Jason can barely swallow back the instinctive growl at Batman nearly touching the nest he built for his Mama. Batman appears to be gentle with her, but that doesn’t mean that won’t change. Mama doesn’t even twitch. After a moment, he stands back up. “Puppy, I’m sorry, she-” 

Jason cuts him off, “No, no, she’s gonna be okay. She has to be, she’s gonna wake up soon. She just- she needs her meds,” he cries, hating the way he trembles. “I can take care of her, I can do it, I just- I need to get her medicine, please.”

Batman is undeterred by his pupish mewling, “Do you know what a seizure is?”

“No! Stop it!” Jason shouts, half a sob. “You- you’re gonna make her upset. Mama doesn’t like it when I talk to strangers, you needa, you needa go away! Get away from her!” He swallows down his terror, ignoring the disgusting aftertaste, and approaches Batman. He shoves himself between the alpha and his Mama, defenseless as she sleeps. Even with tears streaming down his face and sobs hiccuping in his chest, he’ll protect his Mama. It’s his job. 

Batman doesn’t snarl at him no matter how Jason screams. “I understand that this is overwhelming-” Jason doesn’t let him finish. He can’t calm him down when Jason knows how this ends. If Batman tries to separate him from his Mama then he might never see her again, just like with Dad. Jason can’t lose his Mama too. He won’t do it, he refuses. Jason will not allow his Mama to be taken away from him.

There’s a low sound coming from the living room and then Batman growls, “Robin, I told you to wait outside.” There’s an edge to his voice that makes Jason’s chest clench noose-tight, suddenly terrified of what will happen to the boy if he continues to disobey. Jason might be small for his age but Robin doesn’t seem to be that much older than him. He stands no chance against Batman, even if he is his mentor.

Robin steps into the open door to the bathroom, brows creased in concern. “But you’re scaring him.”

“Robin,” Batman hisses, harsh enough to make Jason’s hackles raise. Instinctively, he wants to pull the other pup behind him, even though Robin is surely the better fighter between them. 

Robin shows no such fear of his alpha. Jason doesn’t know what to make about it, but then the boy says, “Hey, I know Batman is big and scary but he is trying to help.” Robin smiles, his soothing scent swelling strong enough to cut through Mama’s nauseating sick pheromones. Jason didn’t know that Robin smells like chocolate chip cookies. When Jason mewls, an instinctively puppy sound, Robin continues, “Look, Batman is gonna try and help your Mom but we gotta give him a little bit of space, okay? You’re not in any trouble, we just want to help you.”

“But- but I stole,” Jason admits, as if either of them could possibly be unaware when the Batmobile’s missing tire is right there in the living room. 

“Batman’s not upset with you,” Robin reassures him with a smile. “You were just trying to help your Mom, right? Can’t blame you for that. You did a good job, but we’re here to help you now.” Robin steps closer, scent pulsing safety safety safety. He holds out a hand, and though Jason can hardly bear to be away from his Mama now, he really doesn’t know how to help her. Batman saves people, it’s what he does. He has to know how to help her. Maybe he even knows where to get more medicine. 

When Jason willingly takes Robin’s hand, the older boy pulls him close and wraps an arm around him, gently guiding him out of the bathroom. Jason mewls, desperately wishing his Mama would answer his puppy calls. Robin leads him over to the worn couch, letting him sit right at his side. With a soothing croon, Robin hugs him, not even complaining when Jason gets tears and snot onto his costume. This close, Jason realizes that Robin must be an omega. Robin is only the second omega to ever hold Jason. The realization only makes him cry harder.

When Batman comes out of the bathroom without his Mama, Jason knows. Jason knows what death is but he doesn’t understand. 

“Please,” he mewls, “Please, don’t take me away. Mama needs me, I can’t leave her behind. Please, you can have your tire back, you can my tire iron, you can have whatever you want, just let me stay with her,” he wails, scent flooding out of him in his devastation. 

Batman closes the bathroom door and walks up the couch. He squats down so that he’s no longer looming over Jason. “I’m sorry, pup, there was nothing you could have done. Your Mother passed away.” He continues talking, ignoring Jason’s whining little no, please, no. “It was not your fault. She had a seizure. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help her.”

“But you’re Batman!” Jason bawls, “You- you’re supposed to, it- it’s your job!” If Robin weren’t at his side, rubbing his back and spreading his sweet cookie scent over his clothes then he might have gotten up and run to the bathroom himself, half-convinced that Batman is lying to him. He has to be lying. His Mama can’t be gone. She wouldn’t have left him behind. She’d never.

“I wish I could have done more,” Batman says. He really does sound apologetic, but that does nothing to bring his Mama back. “We would still like to help you, though. It’s not safe for a pup your age to be on your own.”

Jason doesn’t let him finish. “No, no, I’m supposed to take care of her. Dad said so!” Batman doesn’t have any right to tell him what to do. “I’m s’pposed to- I- I have to take care of her.” The words draw out into another pupish whine, unable to keep his all-consuming grief contained. There’s not enough room inside his body for all this pain. This feels like the sort of nightmare his Mama would have woken him up from. No matter how tired she was, she would have kissed him on the head and whispered lullabies until he fell into a dreamless sleep. But Mama isn’t waking up, she can’t help him this time.

“You’re only a kid,” Robin speaks up, tone gentle. “It’s not your job to look after your parent.”

“But I’m all she has,” Jason sobs. “She's all I have.” He covers his face with his hands as if it’ll do anything to hide his tears. He knows he’s giving Batman plenty of opportunity to subdue and arrest him, but he can’t find it in him to care. 

Batman shows no judgment towards the way he sniffles and whimpers, speaking to him far more kindly than Jason ever expected. He never thought that Batman could show such mercy towards a criminal. “It doesn’t have to be that way anymore. We can help you.”

“No!” Jason cries out. “I know what help means! I know what happens to packless pups! I won’t let you!” He hates the way that he leans into Robin’s touch. Robin is on Batman’s side, always, but he just can’t imagine this boy hurting him. Jason isn’t naive, he knows Robin beats up just as many bad guys as his partner does, but it’s Robin. It’s hard to believe that he’d hurt him now after he’s tried so hard to comfort him. 

They must realize his inherent sense of trust with Robin, because he’s the one who offers, “We could take you somewhere safe. We know good foster parents who would keep you fed, warm, and taken care of.” It’s simultaneously a nightmare and far too good to be true. Jason can’t wrap his head around a life where his Mama isn’t there, waiting in the nest for him. But if she truly is gone, Batman and Robin can’t help him. Jason is meant to die here, right beside his Mama. He can’t leave her behind, even if it means he really will starve to death. Better he starve with his Mama than make her suffer alone.

“Mama kept me safe!” He meant to yell but instead it tears out of his throat in a ragged sob. 

“I’m sorry,” Batman murmurs, sounding awfully genuine. “She can’t take care of you anymore. But we can still help, if you let us. I know a man who is an emergency foster parent. He could give you as many blankets as you wanted for nesting, and as much food as you could eat. You won’t have to depend on stealing anymore.”

“No, no, he won’t keep me. I’m a criminal.” It’s a stupid admission, but it hardly matters anymore. Batman could arrest him, throw him to the streets, do whatever he wanted and Jason would be just as helpless to stop him no matter what fate he decided upon. Jason pulls at the sleeves of his hoodie, fervently wishing it smelled more like his Mama than of his own spoiled pheromones. 

Robin’s scent pulses safety-affection-hereherehere. “What if we gave you a way to signal us for help?” He asks. “If you feel uncomfortable with the foster parent then you could tell us and then we’d find you a different home. We want you to feel safe, whatever that looks like.” Robin gives him a reassuring smile when Jason whimpers a small how? “We have burner phones. You could have one, and we could have one, that way you can contact us if you need anything. No matter where you are or what time it is, we’ll be there for you.” There’s such an easy confidence about him. Jason doesn’t know how he does it. He can’t imagine himself ever having the confidence that Robin has.

Somehow, it gives him the courage to ask, “Could- could Robin have the phone? Just Robin?” He braces himself for the explosion, for Batman to snap about how ungrateful he is, how unworthy of saving.

Yet, it is Batman who answers, “Of course. Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” There’s no anger in his tone, no judgment either. 

The lack of frustration allows Jasom to ask, “What- what’s gonna happen to my Mama?”

Batman takes a breath. “I am going to call a friend of mine who can help her rest easier.” He lets the words sink in for a moment before he says. “Take as much time as you need to say goodbye and then we can help you pack up your stuff.” Jason used to think that the movies he and his Mama used to watch were over-dramatic, but this truly does not feel real. Jason keeps waiting for her to walk out of the bathroom, to apologize for the scare and to promise that she’s okay now. She just needed a nap and now everything is going to go back to normal.

Jason shakes his head, staring at the now closed bathroom door. “I can’t take the nest. She needs it. Mama always sleeps best in the nest.” He knows what Batman said, that she’s- but he can’t. Jason can’t take away her last comfort. That would be cruel, and Mama has always wanted Jason to be kind. She wanted more for him than to lie and steal and run away. 

Robin croons at him, a sound as soothing as it is sad. “She’d want you to have a blanket too, puppy.”

“But- but if she’s gonna rest, she needs it more than me.” 

“Okay,” Robin concedes. Jason is thankful that he doesn’t argue. “Whatever you think is best. It’s your nest. We aren’t going to take it apart for you. You can decide what you’d like to do with it.”

“I wanna keep her hoodie,” Jason admits, nothing more than a whisper. “But what if she gets cold?” Mama hates the cold. Jason does too. 

“You bundled her up really well,” Batman says. It’s weird for a vigilante to praise him, but somehow it eases his puppy instincts, just a bit. “You did a good job building the nest. I’m sure she’ll be perfectly warm.” Jason wants to believe him. With the door closed, it’s easier to pretend that she’s just sleeping. She just needs to rest the sickness off. That’s how it always goes. Jason just has to wait for her to get better, 

“Okay,” he nods, more to himself than anything. “I’ll keep the hoodie then.” Somehow, having the man’s permission helps soothe a bit of the guilt bubbling in his stomach. Jason needs to get up. He needs to go back to his Mama. He needs to pack a bag. Mama always helps him pack, when they need to. He’s never had to do it on his own before. He doesn’t know how. Jason is sure that he could figure it out, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to do this without her. He doesn’t wanna do anything without her. 

Neither Batman nor Robin rush him. They wait until his cries putter out, giving him the space he needs to pull himself together. When it’s time to fill his backpack with clothes and toiletries, Robin is right there at his side. Batman goes to check on Mama. Jason knows. Of course he does, he’s not an idiot. But it’s a whole lot easier to play pretend. Jason packs his tire iron. They don’t try to stop him. Apparently, Batman keeps burner phones in his utility belt. He gives Jason one, Robin’s number already put in the contact list. Jason slides it into his pocket, relishing in the way it eases a bit of his anxiety.

Jason isn’t brave enough to say goodbye to her face. He whispers through the door, apologies for not saving her, promises of his love. Mama doesn’t respond, but he has an idea of what she’d say, if given the chance. “I’m sorry I didn’t get you the meds on time,” he tells her. “I love you, Mama,” he whimpers one last time. He hopes she won’t be too scared or too lonely. He hopes she won’t be too cold. She fought for so long, she deserves to rest.

There’s no food for him to leave behind or for him to take with him. He hopes Mama won't be left hungry.

They lead him to the Batmobile. Jason was right about them having a spare tire. After they load the trunk with what little he has left, Robin helps him into the backseat. He climbs in right beside him, providing a shoulder to lean on once again. When Jason is sitting down again, it’s nearly impossible for him to ignore his exhaustion. He gets to ride in the actual Batmobile and he can’t even enjoy it. When Robin offers to act as a pillow during their drive, Jason doesn’t have the strength to resist. With his Mama’s hoodie keeping him warm, he passes out. 

Jason wakes up being held. Robin has him cradled in his arms. He doesn’t know if that means Robin is particularly strong if Jason is especially small. They’re walking up the steps of a mansion. Jason has never been anywhere so grand before. If this is his foster parent’s territory, he can’t imagine how anyone so wealthy would care to take care of a thief like him. 

Robin notices as soon as he wakes up. “It’s okay,” he croons. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re safe.” He continues whispering reassurances even when he knocks on the door. Batman must have already unloaded the car because Jason’s backpack is sitting on the doorstep. Batman must not have wanted to see him off since he seems to have gone back to the car. Jason doesn’t recognize where they are until Bruce Wayne answers the door. He knows that Bruce Wayne has an omegan son. He just hopes he treats his son kindly. Jason doesn’t know if he has it in him to take care of another omega. 

Robin puts him on his feet, keeping him steady, before he pulls him into a hug. “This is your foster dad. He’s a good guy. You’re going to be safe here, but if you’re uncomfortable for any reason then you can reach out, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.” Jason sniffles, not wanting to say goodbye so soon. 

Bruce Wayne doesn’t rush them, his alphan pheromones warm and comforting. Once Jason finds the strength to pull back, the man smiles at him. “Hello there, pup. I’m Bruce. What’s your name?”

Jason fidgets with the sleeves of Mama’s hoodie. “I’m Jason,” he mumbles, wishing he could pull himself together. 

“It’s nice to meet you Jason. My packmate, Alfred, has prepared some supper if you’re hungry.” When he smiles, it doesn’t seem like a lie. Jason hopes that Robin is right, that he really could be as good as he seems. 

Jason does not cry when Robin leaves, but he does sniffle a bit. Bruce doesn’t comment on it, giving Jason a second to pull himself together. He helps him bring his stuff inside, saying that he’ll have his own den and nest. Bruce tells him that his son, Dick, will be happy to nest with him, if he wanted to.

When Jason meets Dick, the omega doesn’t hesitate to give him a hug. Jason recognizes the feel of his arms. Dick holds him the same way that Robin had. All at once, he knows that he will be safe here. He’ll text Robin later. Jason will tell him that he thinks he’ll be okay in this home, but somehow, he thinks Robin already knows.