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Dick was pissed. Livid. Angry beyond all reason! Who the hell was this, this kid wearing his suit, what makes the little brat so deserving when Dick himself hadn’t been anything more than a nuisance to Bruce for months!
For the first two months that Jason is around, when Dick comes to visit he intentionally ignores the kid, refusing to speak, even under Alfred’s disappointed eyebrow.
It isn’t until the kid’s birthday—only 13 years old and he’s seen some terrible stuff—for Dick to regret his behavior. Jason refused to have a party, which ended in Bruce, the hypocrite, lecturing him of the importance of maintaining a proper civilian identity and not getting lost in the mask; Jason was less than forgiving with the lecture and yelled back.
Now, two days later, Jason is still hiding from everyone; apparently Dick isn’t the only one who has been less than kind to the new Wayne heir…
Bruce refuses to accept the entirety of the caste system, even going so far as to be permanently on medical-grade suppressants that dampened his hearing and sense of smell to more beta levels but also minimize if not completely eliminate his more primal instincts and urges. Dick is much more in tune with his Alpha nature, and therefore his enhanced sense of smell. So, even though its difficult and time consuming, Dick is able to follow the faint trail Jason’s scent—to him, it smelled like chocolate with an underlying hint of spice, Alfred said Jason smelled faintly of gingersnap cookies fresh out of the oven; that’s how it always was though, you associate a smell with a certain person, so you can pick them out—to track down the new little bird.
“Hey, Jason.” Dick greets softly, smiling sheepishly at the wall Jason fit himself into via the disturbing secret crawlspace passages.
“Go’way, Dickface.” Jason growls threateningly. The effect is ruined, however, by the slight waver in his voice, and the soft sniffles the Omega is trying so hard to hide.
“Just come get some food? Bruce and Alfred are worried.” Dick paused, shifting self-consciously. “And so am I.”
“Why do you care? You hate me! You’ve made that real clear.” The conviction, the certainty in his voice made Dick flinch. He should not have ever blamed Jason for Bruce’s choices, for Bruce hurting him.
“I, I don’t. Jason-Jay, I don’t, I never hated you. I shouldn’t have taken this out on you. This is between me and Bruce.” Dick stuttered out, awkwardly. By now, he was beginning to debate if he had gotten too big to crawl through the cramped tunnels, or if he could manage to get in and drag the young boy out. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that.”
When Jason didn’t respond, Dick tried again: “Please come out and talk to me?”
“Go’way. I don’t wanna talk to you.” Dick sighed, not surprised but still irrationally hurt that the little Omega didn’t want to see him.
“Sorry, Jay, but I’m not leaving until you come out of the wall. I won’t make you talk to me, but you do need to eat something.”
After a small eternity—like ten minutes really—Jason grumbled out a small “fine” and began his shuffle-crawl through the wall towards the library’s secret entrance.
When the half-door pulled into the wall, Dick was hit with a wave of Jason’s honey-sweet Omega scent, it always made him think of the chocolate-covered jalapeños Brucie had at one of his April Fool’s Day parties when Dick had first come to the manor.
Dick smiled softly down at Jason, extending his hand to help his little brother up. That was his new plan, he was going to be the best big brother ever and—
White and hot shot up his arm and down his spine from the contact. The air was flooded with more of Jason’s sweetly spicy scent as the temperature seemed to spike. Dick could feel the sweat beginning to drip down his neck; Jason was looking at him in a mixture of awe and embarrassment, confusion tinge with poorly hidden happiness.
Dick is not proud of what he did next. He ran, like a coward; so much for being the best big brother ever. Then again, that was apparently never meant to happen, after all, people don’t usually—or ever really—form soulbonds with family. They’re not meant to be platonic. The searing pain in his chest from the extended separation is the universe’s way of punishing him for abandoning his mate.
He’s embarrassed and angry with himself for disappearing for four months with the Titans. Jason has had enough people abandon and mistreat him, many of them because of his classification; he really did not need that from his-his mate—he struggled to even think the word, let alone try to actually say it out loud. Dick feels like scum, but he needed the time to think; it’s his bond, too, he deserves to have a say in it. He has his own life, a girlfriend he does not plan on breaking up with, and Jason is barely 13, nothing can come of it. He turned 18 less than a month ago, he’d be disgusted with himself if he did try anything; plus, Bruce would probably put him in jail, hell, he’d ask him to. Dick makes a habit of not lying to himself, it never helps anyone, so he is well aware that he is making excuses; and he knows that he needs to go back to the manor and fix his screw up.
Unsurprisingly, Jason is not thrilled when he pulls into the Bat-cave. He removes his helmet and domino mask, heading towards Jason, carefully ignoring the eyebrow from Bruce and the open glare from Alfred—he knows he fucked up, but Alfred being so open with any emotion, especially his displeasure, makes him feel a million times worse. He dodges the bat-a-rang flung at his head, and the one hurled at his crotch; he is not, however, prepared for the disorientating right hook that lands him on his ass. Neither Bruce nor Alfred say anything until Jason is up the stairs and the grandfather clock has clicked closed.
Dick turns towards Alfred, but before he can say anything Bruce clears his throat. Alfred nods a slight bow to Bruce and says, stilted and very pointed, “Master Dick, how good of you to visit.”
Dick gulps and turns towards Bruce, not willing to meet his mentor’s gaze. Bruce is still decked out in his full Batman suit, with the cowl pulled off, from his patrol. Bruce’s glare intensifies before he returns his gaze to the report he was typing. Dick jolts slightly when he speaks.
Clinically, Bruce states, “heat is always triggered when an omega is bonded. A male omega’s heat is a very dangerous thing. Those dangers double if he is unmated but bonded.” Dick jerks his head up, shocked by what he thinks Bruce is implying.
“In nearly seventy percent of all cases, when a bonded, unmated omega—male or female—is abandoned during their heat after bonding, they die.” Bruce continues. “The rate in strictly males is much higher, though not officially documented.”
And Dick, well, he feels the self-hatred wash over him anew. Jason, his pack member, his mate, could’ve died because of his stupid, selfish, cowardly decision. He doesn’t usually run from difficult situations, and he really should not have run from Jason.
“How do I fix this?” He mumbles, repeating himself louder when all Bruce does in raise an eyebrow and turn his head just enough for Dick to see it.
When Dick finally corners Jason to talk, its awkward. Not in the least because he has to hold the door closed so Jason can’t get out of the bathroom and attack him again. But, it’s successful; they agree on terms that won’t hurt anyone.
Well, the talk is more along the lines of Dick apologizing and then naming terms, which Jason grunts something akin to acceptance to. Dick will 1) not be breaking up with Babs, or anyone else for that matter, because of Jason—Jason is also allowed to date if he so chooses— 2) continue working with the Titans and living his own life in Bludhaven and encourages Jason to do the same, 3) visit at least once a month unless otherwise noted beforehand and 4) not do anything even vaguely bond or mate related until Jason is of legal age.
Dick pitches backwards slightly as the door suddenly falls away, hinges clanking against the bathroom’s tile floors.
“You couldn’t even be bothered to stick around when you were tryin’ to convince me you didn’t hate me.” Jason scoffs. “I don’t want anything to do with you. We may be bonded, but we aren’t mates. Never will be.” He steps into his room, walking towards his desk before dropping, all faux-casual, into the chair. “Now get out.”
“But—“
“And close the door on your way out.” With that, he picks up a pencil and turns his attention to the papers spread across the desk.
So that’s how it goes. Bruce doesn’t say anything about it, and Alfred forgave him when Jason stopped trying to murder him on sight. He tries to visit at least three times a month; the extra visit makes him feels likes he is legitimately trying. Their—he wouldn’t call it a relationship—regresses when he and Babs break up and he starts dating Kori, and then more when he accidentally lets slip about him and Roy’s occasional flings, but overall, they’re doing a lot better.
That’s their system, and it works. For nearly two years, Dick visits the manor, and Jason, three times every two months not including Christmas or Thanksgiving. Only, now, there’s a really important mission that he has to go on with the Titans, to some small desert country in Africa (he knows the name, just can't pronounce it). So, he goes to the manor for Thanksgiving and announces that he staying until after Christmas, so he doesn’t feel bad about not being around for four months. At the rate Jason is going, he’ll probably be bigger than Dick when he gets back.
It’s kind of a long month for Dick, he and Bruce haven’t really worked on their issues, and he and Jason still aren’t on the best of terms; but he makes it work. They have a, mostly, happy holiday month, and protect Gotham together. Its kind of nice to work with his pack at his side again.
The day after Christmas, he says his goodbyes and head back to Bludhaven to prep for the mission. As is typical for the Titans, they don’t end up having to leave when they planned, about a month later actually—apparently calendars don’t translate well when facing a country continuously at war with itself. He already told Jason and Bruce he wouldn’t be around, so he uses the time to take care of his city.
The night before he actually leaves, he’s on edge as he packs; something feels off, it feels like someone is watching him, but every time he looks out the window, no one seems out of place. So he goes about his packing, eventually readying himself for sleep, he has a long day ahead of him. When he goes to close the curtains, he sees a glimpse of a red hoodie, and, for a second, swears he sees a flash of black hair and familiar—he affectionately and slightly ironically refers to them as robin’s egg—blue eyes. However, that’s impossible, there is no way Bruce would let Jason come to Bludhaven alone, and Bruce would have told him if they were coming or Jason snuck off. Not that he would come to see Dick… They still weren’t really there yet.
The mission was meticulously planned. Everyone, except Cyborg who was staying behind as support, was going deep undercover. Three months, radio silence, blend in. Well, not Kori, she doesn’t really blend in, but she is the bait for the alien race of slavers currently holed up in the middle of the Sahara desert, using the country's perpetual civil war to shadow their operation. No one, not even Batman was allowed to know where they were, hence Cyborg running interference with the League and making sure no one could hack into their comms.
About a month in, the bond starts burning. More than usual, which is strange because being on the other side of the planet they shouldn’t be able to really feel each other at all, but its manageable so he ignores it. It lasts two days before it goes away; leaving a slightly cold feel that is much easier to manage, so doesn’t think anything of it.
The next morning, Alfred calls him. The old butler sounds a little off, worried probably. “Master Dick, its-you need to come home. We need you—“
“I’m sorry Alfred,” Dick cuts in, feeling bad about rudely interrupting, but he had to make excuses about needing to use the bathroom to answer his phone, which only buys him a few minutes. They wouldn’t call if it wasn’t important, but “I’m super busy at the moment. I’ll call you back later, ‘kay?”
“Master Dick, this is also important. It’s about Ja—“ Alfred tries.
“I’ll talk to him when I get back, I promise. We’re supposed to be on radio silence, I don’t want to compromise the mission. Bye Alf!” He chirps quietly. He’s going to have to grovel and apologize so much for being so rude, but this is really important.
He ends up forgetting to ask Vic about a secure line to call Alfred back. But when he does eventually remember, he decides it can probably wait another week until they get home.
There’s a really big hitch, but in the end, they win and the slavers are being dragged into JLA Sanctioned Imprisonment Facilities for Extraterrestrials™. As Vic piloted them back to the tower in San Francisco, the coldness from the bond spread instead of dulling, resulting in a confusing burning sensation he associates with the symptoms of severe hypothermia Bruce made him learn before visiting Clark’s fortress.
Something is definitely not right, but he would definitely know if something was really wrong. “Hey, Kor.”
“Richard?” the alien responds.
He carefully avoids looking at the rest of his team, especially Roy. “Something doesn’t feel right. And I know its awkward,” he begins to babble. Him and Roy haven’t really been the same since he found out, “I think it might be Jason. Would you mind taking me to Gotham?” The rest of the team doesn’t really approve of him continuing to date the Tamaranean princess since he’s bonded to someone else.
“Of course, Richard.” Kori is, as always, oblivious to the looks the rest of the team is giving him. She wraps her arms securely around his waist and flies out through the “bomb bay” doors in the storage area of the underbelly of the ship. As they rapidly approach Gotham, and the manor, the freezing burning sensation spreads and grows until gritting his teeth can’t stop him from crying out softly. “Richard? Are you well? Has something happened?”
“Don’t know Kori, just—“ he grunts, gripping her arm in a way the would be painful for anyone else—“something is definitely wrong.”
Bruce has a rule about anyone flying within the gates, so Kori lands them at the front gates. He appreciates that she remembers Bruce’s idiotic rule, but her flying is so much faster. Also, every step he takes is an agony that grows worse the closer her gets. About halfway to the door, his anxiety outweighs the pain and he breaks into a sprint, managing the near mile between the gate and the door faster than he ever has before.
When he finally makes it to the door, he doesn’t even bother knocking to let Alfred know he’s here. He throws the doors open, it was unlocked as always, and dashes into the house. Alfred wobbles into the front hall from the kitchen, but Dick doesn’t notice. He takes the stair three at a time, nearly crashing into the corner when he turn to0 sharply. He searches, but Jason isn’t in his room, he’s not in the library and he didn’t come out of the kitchen with Alfred. It’s too early in the day for him to be in the cave, and a Sunday, so he isn’t at school. Dick is having a mild panic attack, he can’t even smell Jason anywhere and he can always smell Jason.
Returning to the front hall, Dick pants out, “Alfred, wh-where’s Jay?” He slowly begins to catalogue Alfred’s appearance—“he’s not in any of his favorite places”—the dark circles under the usually immaculate butler’s red and puffy eyes. “I can’t smell him.” The way he looks older than Dick has ever seen him.
The cold Dick has been feeling lessens, before Alfred can speak, leaving an empty numbness. “Master Dick—“ he chokes as his voice wobbles, “perhaps you would like to sit down.”
“No.” Dick snaps, harsher than he meant. “I want to know where my mate is!” he all but yells, barely noticing Kori slip inside, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Alfred looks away, dabbing at his eyes. Dick doesn’t need to hear it to know what happened, but he still needs Alfred to tell him, to tell him he’s wrong and Jason is okay. But he cannot feel the bond, and you cannot break a bond. Alfred takes a shaky breath, slumping into a nearby chair, “Master Jason traveled to Ethiopia to find the one person who might actually love him without conditions and did not return to us.”
Dick watches the tears slip from the stoic man’s eyes, but he can’t do anything, can’t feel anything. He’s so numb it hurts.
“Master Bruce was unab-unable to get to him in time. The Jo-" he chokes out, "that monster took him and now he’s gone.” Alfred dissolves into tears, trying to say more but Dick doesn’t hear him; the blood rushing in his ears is too loud.
He doesn’t know when it happened, but he’s on the floor, he hasn’t broken down in tears since he learned to fight the nightmares after his parents’ death, but he doesn’t feel like he’ll ever stop now: his mate is dead, and he wasn’t there. Jason didn’t think anyone loved. He was Dick’s mate, it was Dick’s responsibility—no, privilege—to make sure Jason always knew was loved, no matter what. Dick has spent the last two years hurting his mate, dating others, throwing those relationships in his mates face while he suffered alone—Jason never dated anyone else, Dick knows, he always asks-he always asked. Dick remembers feeling the bond so well the days before Alfred called him two months ago. Jason was close and in need of him, Jason died two months ago, when the cold started, and he couldn’t be bothered to return Alfred’s phone call. No wonder the elder sounded so hurt that day.
He doesn’t know how long he lies there sobbing. He screams at Kori, telling her not to touch him, to leave when she tries to comfort him. She does. At some point, Alfred slips off, but Dick barely notices. Eventually, he pushes himself to his feet intending to go to the one place that might make him feel something; the numbness has spread to his whole body now, he needs something of Jason’s, needs to smell him more than anything.
He drags himself up the stairs once again, all energy drained. Bonds weren’t meant to break, they’re permanent; after all, why would you need someone else when you’ve met your fated perfect match.
Bruce is outside Jason’s room when he gets there, locking it. When he turns towards Dick his face is shallow and haunted, he’s grieving and obviously has been for the past two months. Dick suddenly feels like he doesn’t have a right to be so upset. He was never there for Jason: he didn’t see and talk to Jason everyday; he didn’t help Jason with his day-to-day problems. Bruce was better family to Jason, and Dick doesn’t deserve either of them, didn’t deserve Jason. When he tries to say something, Bruce throws a decorative vase from one of the tables at him. It impacts the walls three feet to his left. He didn’t move, would’ve let it hit him. He watches Bruce leave, tears in both their eyes.
He had the most pure form of love, the kind of love that everyone dreams of, and he callously pushed it aside. With Jason gone, he’ll never feel love, or really anything, again, he doesn’t deserve it anyway, clearly never did.
Bonds are what the old wedding vows were based of off; pure and honest, never wavering, never tempted. He pushes against the door, too weak to be of any affect, and slides down to the floor.
For better,
Jason’s secret smiles when he thought no one was looking, and the way he lit up when someone asked him about his newest book.
For worse,
The stilted conversations they had whenever Dick talked about anything vaguely romantic, no matter the context, and when Dick tried to hug him or touch him at all.
For richer,
When Jason dressed up in the fancy suits Alfred had made for him for Brucie's parties, and the silly school uniform Jason hated so much.
For poorer,
The day Bruce found out he was spending his whole allowance on food for the kids in his old neighborhood, and when he tried to hustle Clark in poker.
In sickness
The flu, and then pneumonia, Jay got when he refused to tell Dick about falling off the dock during patrol the first time they went out without Batman.
And health,
The sunny days when Dick convinced him to lay in the grass next to him for hours, reading or sleeping.
Until death do us part.
“I’m sorry, Jay.”