Chapter Text
Damian drifts easily in and out of sleep, fully in the in-between stages of waking up. Golden rays of sunlight streamed through gaps in the curtains, rudely interfering with his sleep. His eyes were still far too heavy to open as he nuzzled comfortably against a muscled chest, enveloping himself in a calming, protective and unmistakably Alpha scent. That was much better. Now the stupid sunlight wasn't annoying him. Damian snuffles serenely in sleepiness as strong fingers card through his black hair and massage his scalp. The tiniest of puppy purrs build up in his chest, soon accompanied by the low, soothing rumbling of a parental Alpha. The pup sighs contentedly, it was always warm and cosy in Mother's den. Mama must have taken him back with her to the League. She purrs lowly, lulling Damian fully back into slumber. The pup lets sleep take him willingly, there was no greater comfort than being somewhere where he belonged. His chest feels full and warm with something he does not know how to name.
Mama holds him tighter, letting him nestle even deeper into her chest.
It's only around an hour later when Damian finally wakes up.
He smacks his lips together, trying to force his completely relaxed body to wake up with him. It was hard, especially when everything was so cosy and warm and safe. Damian had missed his Mother, he had missed the way her lips would curl into a smile, and she would press a kiss to his forehead. Grumbling, he blearily blinks the sleep out of his eyes, before manoeuvring to rest his chin on Mama's chest and look up at her face. Only, it's not Mother's green eyes that greet him. Damian stiffens, spine going rigid. All traces of sleep disappear from his countenance completely. Father's dilated pupils and icy blue eyes stare down at him, and the fragmented memory of last night—of Ivy's pheromones and Father's subsequent ferality—hits him like a truck.
The memory of low snarls, of a rooftop chase in which his life hanged in the balance, and something else, something important that Damian was forgetting.
This was bad. This was really bad!
The Alpha churred lowly, Damian used his chest to push himself up. He scrambles across the king-sized bed like a fish out of water. The air around him is spoiled by the sickening scent of curdled milk and puppish panic. He had to leave now! Now whilst he still could, whilst the Alpha—by some miracle—still had not realised that Damian was encroaching on his territory. In his den, no less. An Alpha's den was a sacred place, and they were very much territorial of it. How Damian had survived the night was an utter mystery.
He had to leave.
He makes it a humiliatingly short few inches away before a hand wraps around his ankle and pulls him back into his Father's chest. The Alpha grumbles disapprovingly and nips at the back of Damian's neck with his sharp teeth. He stills, joints locking in fear. Oh no. Father was displeased. Father had bitten him? It had not drawn blood, nor had it particularly hurt, but the terror still remained. Perhaps it was a warning shot of sorts. Dread weighs heavily in his gut and Father's muscular arms wrap around him tighter, pulling him flush against the Alpha's bosom.
Something pulls at his chest from within. It is not Mother.
Damian pauses, memories from the very tail end of last night start to form. He steals a look at the Alpha, who is already gazing at him with utmost ferality—if his dilated pupils and heavy-lidded eyes were anything to go by. His protective scent gets stronger, and through the bond—the bond! How had Damian forgotten?!—Father starts pushing forth Safe-Protected-Love-Dad. Confusion replaces the pup's terror, Why would Father—in his feral state, no less—give Damian a pack bond? He had not done anything to earn it.
He gulps as Father continues nuzzling into his hair, focusing intently on closing off his end of the pack bond, so the others wouldn't have to feel his fear. They were probably celebrating it, anyway. Father continues his utterly baffling behaviour, and Damian hates how it makes his stupid puppy hindbrain feel safe. He hates how Father is trying to trick him with such a protective, loving, parental feeling even more, though.
Safety was a dangerous thing to feel as a pup—when unwarranted, at least.
Compliance was the most pragmatic option last night. So Damian lays back, completely supporting his weight upon the man who could very easily tear his throat out. Father’s hand reaches up to cup the crown of his head. He stays deadly still, concentrating on subduing his puppy scent, so as to seem of less of a threat or challenge.
Hopefully it would wear off soon.
And hopefully Damian could figure out what was going on with Father.
He reaches for Mother's bond in his chest, but it's closed shut on her end. She must be on a mission. Damian understood that Mother did not want him to feel the negative confusing and conflicting emotions she had surrounding the League and her duties within it—he really did! But, he just wanted to feel the warmth of his Mama's love, one last time, before his estranged Father mauled him to death.
He keened. Father's grip on him got tighter.
☆ ☆ ☆
It wasn't fair, how right Damian's inner puppy felt in his Father's arms, nor was it fair how warm he felt when Father purred and held him tighter. Nor was it fair how protected Damian felt when Father snarled lowly and moved Damian behind his back as the door to his den slowly creaked open.
The Alpha sat up in the nest, icy blue eyes fixed to the widening crack in the door. The baffling protective, parental scent disappears, instead replaced by Angry-Alpha-STAYAWAY-WILLATTACK. Damian grips the back of Father's shirt, peeking over his broad shoulder tentatively. The Alpha gently pushes him back down, so his body is completely hidden from view of the intruders. Father narrowed his eyes, his sharp teeth glinted in the sunlight like daggers. Someone snickers, and Damian vaguely hears something being set on the ground, then scent patches being peeled off. The unmistakenly omegan scent of sandalwood and vanilla wafts into the den. Father's growl teeters of completely. Instead he croons, begging the intruder closer. The smell of angry alpha—which was putting Damian on edge—completely dissipated, instead being replaced with something warm and parental.
Cogs start to turn in Damian's head.
"Still feral then, B?" Richard Grayson—the eldest of Father's 'pups' and the first Robin—strolls in cautiously, eyes scanning the room. His hair was ruffled in a way that suggested it having been tousled by stressed fingers one too many times. He wears old sweatpants and a hoodie that looked much too bulky on him to be his own. Damian peeks over Father's shoulder again. The Alpha does not push him down this time. Grayson pushes the door closed with his foot, his arms are occupied with a breakfast tray. The scent of something warm and sweet glides through the air. The Omega sets the tray of bottled water, an assortment of fruit and two steaming bowls down on the bedside table. The cutlery clangs against itself.
The emptiness in his stomach makes itself known. But the food is probably not for him.
Father churrs and twists his abdomen to grab Damian. He whines possibly the most pathetic puppy whine ever when strong, muscled arms wrap around his midsection and yank him forwards to rest against the Alpha's chest. Grayson raises an eyebrow as Damian holds his breath. Father makes a few clicking noises at the Omega as he pets through the pup's black hair and nuzzles into his cheek. Damian was so confused. Then, without warning, Father lifts him up into the air and holds him outward for Grayson's viewing. He makes a series of animalistic sounds that read like pride or bragging. Fear pricks the back of his neck, and his hair stands on end. Father's affections were just there to lull him into a false sense of security. Damian whimpers. Father was merely waiting for one of his chosen children to be present to witness him getting rid of the trespasser to pack affections. That would explain the pride in his scent, as an Alpha, he was proud to be able to destroy a threat to the pack's security. Damian sways in the Alpha's hold, completely helpless midair, as fighting back would only serve to prolong his suffering. Father chirps comfortingly as Grayson's eyes narrow. The calculating expression on Father's eldest pup makes him uneasy. Damian lets out an involuntary whine. In his fear, his end of the bond opens up again once he loses his hold on it. Spoiled milk emenates through the room before he gains control back of his scent.
The fallout is instant. Father stiffens, tightening his hold on him midair, a deep growl caught in the base of his throat. Grayson stands to attention and Damian desperately closes the bond over again. It's too late though. Other members of the pack instinctually send reassurance back through the bond, Grayson included. The Omega clears his throat, his voice is carefully controlled, but his fists are clenched. "I don't think he likes that, B." Grayson says rather simply.
The hands around his midsection tighten once more as he's pulled back into Father's warm, broad chest. The terrifying Alpha just coos, pressing a slobbery kiss to Damian's hairline as dilated blue eyes turn to look expectantly at the Omega. Father's scent takes on a demanding, paternal smell, and Grayson sighs dramatically, before moving to close the door to Father's bedroom. Though, he does not leave. Instead, Richard Grayson does the unthinkable. He waltzes back to the edge of the king-sized bed, and does a flip into the nest nonchalantly, as if he were not gallvinating through the den of a feral, territorial—and undoubtedly violent—Alpha without a care in the world. Damian closes his eyes. Grayson may be Father's—adult—pup, but ferality was a recipe for disaster in any case. He shuts his green eyes tight, preparing mentally for the mauling triggered purely by territorial instinct to follow the Omega's entrance. But, Father just purrs, before freeing an arm and wrapping it around the man's shoulders. Grayson nudges him away in playful annoyance as the Alpha nuzzles his scent glands and attempts to cover him in protective, paternal pheromones. Father huffs in indignation, but complies, instead twisting over to reach something on the edge of the bed. Damian sits still in his lap, too scared to attempt to move, lest the Alpha nip the back of his neck again—the first one had to be a warning, the second time, he doubts Father would be so kind. He also did not want to lose the warmth of Father's body heat, however juvenile that emotion might be.
"So, what happened last night?" Grayson turns his attention to Damian, his face turns serious and stony as he does so. Damian doesn't like the calculating stare one bit. His stupid pup instincts urge him to hide in Father's shadow. As if the Alpha were any less dangerous to his health and livelihood. The Omega speaks in a calm tone that demands answers. "You were both so out of it. Alfred and I've been trying to piece it together." He pauses before muttering a bitter "Doesn't help that B's bodycam was acting up either."
Cutlery clangs together as Father carefully drags the tray closer to him. Damian's voice is quiet so as not to alarm the feral Alpha. Grayson leans in to listen. "..Father decided to let me patrol with him as a test...-...then Poison Ivy escaped Arkham and we went to fight and subdue her..." He twiddles with his thumbs, too nervous to look up and try to discern what Grayson's tight gaze meant. "At first, it was fine, but Ivy had made a pollen—I think it was a pollen? But, whatever it was- it was made to reduce a person down to their base instincts...I don't think I was exposed to any but Father go—"
—Father trills and shoves a spoonful of warm porridge into his open mouth. Damian stills in utter bafflement, before Father's trills prompt him to glance up at the Omega for guidance, but Grayson just gives him a—unarguably strained—smile. "Looks like he wants you to eat, Dami."
Damian swallows the porridge, and is rewarded with a scenting. He fights to keep his eyelids from drooping when his stupid puppish hindbrain reacts instinctually to such a protective scent—which is for Grayson, not him. In between another forced spoonful of porridge, Damian continues recounting the events of last night. "Father got hit..." then, shamefully, he admits his cowardice to the Omega. "...he started snarling...so I fled...then he caught up—"
—He frowns in annoyance as Father feeds him more porridge. The Alpha's purrs intensify and he begins to sound like a lawnmower. Grayson nods, "We thought it was something like that, or that his rut started early."
The Omega pulls out his phone and begins typing.
“Father is…like this…during ruts?” Damian asks, the bulking Alpha in question glares suspiciously at the air conditioning as it rattles and starts up again. His lips are curled upwards, exposing sharp teeth.
Grayson looks Damian in the eye. “Yeah. Though he’s not usually this bad for this long during his ruts. He has more periods of being lucid than not.” Father appears to have decided that the AC is not a threat, because he turns his attentions back to the tray.
He nods, stilling for a moment. If Father got this level of feral and potentially violent—even if it was for shorter periods of time—during ruts, then he would have to track his cycle and ensure to make himself scarce during those times. Father tries to shove another spoonful into his mouth, but fear has dulled his appetite. Damian closes his lips into a tight line and turns his head to the left.
The spoon follows him, Damian moves his head to the right. Father’s vocalisations following that sound stern and scary. The bond between them flares with No-PupEAT-Food and Damian feels it sit heavily in his chest. He pauses, before slowly opening his mouth and letting the Alpha feed him another spoonful. It works, and Father’s scent spikes. That lawnmower-esque purring emanates from the Alpha's chest once more.
"...Alright...I've texted Alfred...—he's down in the cave patching up Tim right now...but we should be fine to just let this pollen run its course." Grayson puts his phone away, appearing to notice minute traces of apprehension in either Damian's scent or his expression, because he gives a small reassuring smile to the pup. It looks more strained than anything. "It's alright, Dami. He mostly just wants to have one of his pups to protect and dote on....It's annoying, sure, but it's easier just to go along and get it over with. Path of least resistance and all that."
Damian had been 'going along' with Father's ferality, but Father still bit the back of his neck, and held him out midair so Grayson could decide what to do with him.
"He was snarling and growling when he was hit...he chased me across rooftops...he was angry." He finds himself speaking up as Father begins to scrape the last bits of porridge in the bowl into spoonfuls, but he could not find the right words to describe the gravity of his situation. Grayson had to understand that Father did not love Damian the same way he loved his chosen pups. Father did not love Damian at all. Damian was not too naive and enslaved to his puppish instincts and need for parental love and care that he had forgotten how Father was merely obligated by biology—and possibly familial law in the United States—to keep such a horrid pup in his home. But then again, Grayson did not like him either, Grayson hated his heritage—if the way his lips would pull into a sneer when he said the names Talia or al Ghul. was any indication. Right now, he was merely being cordial and polite to Damian.
Damian hated his Father's pack's civility towards him despite their deep, utter hatred for him. It was confusing, in a covertly hostile way that made his hair stand on end in fear that the other shoe would drop. It wasn't fair. They were detectives, they most definitely knew the horrid strain they were putting on his dumb inner pup.
"Yeah...that sounds like him." Grayson shrugs. "The growling thing was probably just adrenaline from the fight...besides-" The Omega grins, eyes glinting. "-when I was Robin and B was in pre-rut on patrol and was trying to 'herd' me into his den, I would take off running and have him catch me just to be difficult...and he was never too mad back then."
Father feeds him more porridge. Damian sits up straighter, glancing at the Omega. "Whilst you were on patrol?"
"Yep." He replies, popping the 'p' before stilling, blinking like a deer caught in headlights as Father stares at him unwaveringly. The Alpha's knuckles grip the last spoonful of porridge so tightly they'd gone bone-white. Grayson raises an eyebrow before slowly reaching over to the breakfast tray and grabbing a banana. He unpeels it quickly and takes a bite. Father's gaze relaxes, and he turns his attention back to Damian, bringing the spoonful to the pup's mouth.
Damian finishes the porridge, and Father churrs happily, a large hand rubs his stomach in circles before coming up to pinch his cheeks. The Alpha manhandles him again, so that all of Damian's weight and balance is being supported by strong, alphan arms as the man cradles him like an infant. It's undignified, and he bristles a little. He wasn't a baby! It wasn't fair.
Grayson finishes his banana. The Alpha glares at his eldest pup again, before nudging an apple towards him. The Omega sighs a long suffering sigh before taking a bite. Alpha purrs fill the room.
The puzzle pieces click into place as Damian's eyes grow heavier—a combination of all the pheromones and a full stomach. Watching Father's eyes light up with adoration as he looked at Grayson, understanding washes over him. Damian had been on patrol with Father when it happened. Damian had ran—something that Richard Grayson, the first Robin had done 'for fun'—it was therefore, only logical, that in his addled mental state, Father had mistaken the most unwanted pup in the world for one of his Robins. That would explain the pack bond, and the cuddles, and the food. Damian felt relief, in a small way, if Father thought he was one of his Robins, then he would not cause him harm. That was why he survived last night. The affection he had received—as terrifying and confusing as it was—was merely innocent affection, purely because of a case of mistaken identity. It was safe that way. Damian was safer that way. But as the Alpha wrapped him up tightly in blankets, the scent of Father-Love-Protection wafting off of him, the pup could feel nothing but bitterness. Bitterness because he had to be someone else to get the affection his inner pup craved. Father chuffs out a chuckle at the scent of his annoyance, as does Grayson.
Damian frowns. It was sad, really. Sad that he had gotten more affection in one day that the last three months combined that he had lived here—purely because Father was so devolved in his instincts that he hadn’t realised that it was him.
Selfishly, his puppish hindbrain was uncaring, and urged Damian to just enjoy the cuddles and scenting and affection whilst it lasted. Just until Father came back to himself, and broke the bond.
If anyone asked or chided him. He’d claim to have gotten a dose of the pollen too, that way he could soak up some of this misdirected love without being blamed for his horrid act of userping affection meant for Father’s chosen pups by taking advantage of the Alpha’s delusional state.
The Alpha begins to rock him to sleep. With his mind and instincts at a dichotomy and crossroads, Damian falls into a bittersweet slumber.
☆ ☆ ☆
This time; Damian wakes up in the late evening alone, no Grayson, or Father or breakfast tray in sight. The pollen must have wore off—he thought bitterly. Pathetically, he grips the blankets that still smell like love and holds back a soft keen. The master bedroom is empty, and Damian’s pup hates how it feels like abandonment.