Chapter Text
The assignment was going as well as it could be. Mother would be pleased, Damian thought.
He found himself too busy the last several days to miss her, but now, sitting in front of a half-finished letter, he contemplated his feelings. The experience was highly unusual, but the medical professionals invited to examine the health of the pack assured him that the constant fuzzy presence of pack members at the back of his head was normal and the bursts of emotions across the bonds were perfectly healthy. Thus, expressing and sharing ‘feelings’ was healthy and actively encouraged.
It showed stability and prosperity, where each member could afford to be as vulnerable as they wanted and others would rip the throat out of anyone who dared to explore the demonstrated vulnerability. Damian was quite pleased to learn that tidbit from Klarion, Teekl’s owner. Todd tried to object, but halfway through fell silent and confirmed with an amused smirk that Damian was totally allowed to put his katana to use if someone was threatening their pack. With only one stipulation that Damian reluctantly agreed to: he could unsheathe his katana only if others higher in the pack’s hierarchy were indisposed. He couldn’t deny Todd as Pack’s Alpha or Timothy their right to revenge, so he abided. He had some reservations about Grayson, seeing as he spent the duration of Timothy’s heat indisposed, but was told that Grayson’s anger was the thing to be afraid of.
So while yes, it was weird and somewhat uncomfortable, Damian couldn’t say he despised the new order of things. Elder members of the pack were busy with meetings and logistical challenges of the big pack, but Damian didn’t mind some time to himself.
He was required to meet with a ‘therapist’ every week, who would help him acquire relevant social skills and learn about the American culture. The fact that she was also a member of Justice League like Father helped. It meant she knew what she was talking about and could be an independent source of ‘confidentiality’, because nothing stayed hidden back with Grandfather, but Todd said to give it a try, and that was exactly what he was doing.
The first meeting went… fine, for lack of better description. Black Canary asked him some questions about his past, Mother and how he was acclimatising to the new life. She grimaced a lot, especially after hearing about his training, but was quick to compose herself, so Damian didn’t know what that was about. Probably was not impressed with the League’s training techniques. He couldn’t do anything about it right now; he knew that the Justice League though it was inadequate, all he could do was to dedicate himself to apprenticing under Robin.
Todd described the assassin training as ‘one-sided’ and ‘restricting’. While Damian had his own doubts, Todd had been studying under Mother for some time, therefore, he was very familiar with the League’s regime. Damian was… troubled to consider what it meant for him, not having known anything else before Mother sent him to Timothy. Todd had, at least, had life before being taken in by Mother.
Damian was raised as heir. Nobody said it directly, of course, but Damian was intelligent enough to read between the lines. Almost everyone was wary of the League and, as a consequence, he was not yet allowed to meet Father. He was told a variety of reasons why, but he could detect bitterness, anger or pity to go along with the excuses, depending on who he was talking with.
He would think that he was the problem, but Timothy was practically suffocating him with physical affection (not that Damian protested too hard. It was beneficial for cementing his own place in the pack). The other pack members were cautious, but overall displayed a positive attitude towards him. Even Todd accepted him as Royal Pup, gruffly scenting him and answering every question patiently.
So Damian arrived at the next logical conclusion. While every member of the pack was powerful enough not to fear him, they didn’t like his League heritage. And with how much emphasis Batman put on his ‘no-kill’ rule (now that Damian had access to the Internet, research became much easier fit), he should show that he was capable of following Father’s path. Well, if the pack and Father’s colleagues needed evidence, he would provide it.
Damian wasn’t sure if the same principle applied to his apprenticeship or Timothy was genuinely busy. Regardless, the promise was out there, committed to his memory. He would remind Timothy about it when the timing was right. For now, as long as Timothy was not going out as Robin, he would exercise patience.
There were things to do anyway. Finishing his letter to Mother or finalising the report on young heroes and apprentices’ working conditions. Seeing as how he will be one very soon, he would like it to be fixed by the time he ventured outside of Gotham. Internet and literature Black Canary recommended on the subject were very helpful.
Just as he was carefully crafting the coded farewell, there was a knock. Damian called for a person to come in, another thing he was very quickly getting used to. In League nobody cared about personal property, at least regarding Damian. Everything back home was either his Grandfather’s or very basic necessities. Sure, his chambers were luxurious, and people were bowing to him when he passed, but it wasn’t his. It was Grandfather’s. The base, the servants, the respect.
So having his own room, smaller and… more frugal, was a novelty. While technically it was Timothy’s, Damian was his pack, which meant it was a little bit his too. And the dynamics specialist they all were obligated to see agreed. The medic said a lot of stuff, mostly to Timothy and Todd, but there were things Damian needed to know too. Like the pack boundaries or proper omega care. As Royal Pup, he was the fastest and safest way to get Timothy to calm down in case someone foolishly triggered Royal Omega.
After the consultation, Damian felt much better about enjoying being able to hide retreat into space that was unquestionably his territory. He took a moment to fold the letter and put it into the drawer.
“Come in.”
Timothy burst in, immediately raffling Damian’s hair, lightly scratching him with the claws. The attempts to blunt them were successful only to a degree. He huffed, fixing the resulting mess. Timothy was bound to have a higher energy level for a while after his presentation heat, they learned, so he tried to bear it with dignity.
“Hi, Dami! Are you ready to go shopping?” Timothy bounced in place, already properly dressed for the outside.
“Yes, Timothy. I have just finished my affairs. Can we take Teekl with us?” The creature he met in the Tower was very intelligent and possessed some type of teleportation magic. Damian was very fond of the demonic cat. Clarion had his respect for treating Teekl like a partner. It didn’t hurt that he had no objections about him and Teekl spending a lot of time together.
“Sure, why not. That cat is smarter than most humans anyway. Hey, we can even buy a cat backpack for you to carry him around! Since we need to keep a low profile for the time being.”
Damian nodded, accepting the parameters of the mission. They put on minimal disguises, just enough to blend in with crowds and went on their way. Teekl walked from behind a tree, joining them casually. The second they looked away, he shrunk down to the size of a kitten and pawed on Damian’s leg to lift him up. Damian obliged. Timothy seemed amused but didn’t comment.
They took a car to the shopping centre, Gotham City sprawled outside of the window, grim and merciless and regal. The city that Batman claimed to protect. Was Father like Gotham? Unforgiving and forged from unbendable steel? How would he react to a newfound blood son?
Damian decisively banished traitorous thoughts and focused on the task. They had a lot to go through, Damian arrived with one set of clothes on his back. For now, he was wearing a set brought by Superman, who came to visit at one point – the alien, apparently, had a family and a son around Damian’s age. There were vague talks about two of them meeting later – a ‘playdate’ as Grayson cheerfully put it. Damian despised such a childish notion, but he couldn’t deny he was curious to see a… half-Kryptonian for himself.
It would be beneficial to assess the boy himself, if he were one day to lead a team, as Grayson and Timothy do. Even Todd, despite taking a short pause, runs a criminal empire as Red Hood. So it was a foregone conclusion. He wondered how his predecessors handled recruitment. Perhaps that ‘playdate’ would be a good start.
The building they arrived to was bursting with activity, a lot of loud people and bright things all around. He gripped his hidden knife, the only weapon he was allowed to take outside as a civilian. Timothy placed a hand on his shoulder, shielding him slightly from chaos. Calm-comfort-easy flowed through the bond, taking the edge off Damian’s anxiety apprehension.
“Sorry, I didn’t think that the place would be that busy today. If you want, we can return another day or order things online.” Timothy gazed at him with worried eyes, and Damian couldn’t have that. He was not a child to cuddle; he could handle spending some time among plain civilians.
“No, I am fine. I was just astounded, I suppose, by the garish design of the place and levels of noise. Do not fret, Timothy, I am prepared to storm this… capitalist cesspool.” Damian couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at the last words. Now that he was standing inside the building, he was way less excited to complete the task of ‘shopping’.
There were brightly-lit displays with plastically looking dummies everywhere. Damian doubted their purpose – they didn’t look functional for training. And it couldn’t be to demonstrate garments’ parameters – female bodies are completely botched. Even his Mother and best female servants at Grandfather’s disposal in their top shape don’t look… like that. For once, they have ribs.
Baffling dummies at the front of the shops aside, Damian could appreciate the easy access to a variety of goods. Not even one hour in, and they already acquired some kitchen supplies for Todd, plenty of T-shirts with unbecoming pictures printed on them for clone… Kent and what Timothy called ‘sugary abomination’ for Grayson (Damian privately agreed after looking up ‘Malt-O-Meal Tootie Fruities’. He also couldn’t believe somebody went out of their way and named the food that).
Timothy stopped at the aisle with coffee for a long moment, but Damian was alert. They had all imaginable kinds of it at home, inventoried by Pack Alpha. Damian’s mission was to not let Timothy buy any. Omega was very good at creating hidden catches with coffee grounds, as they witnessed during his heat, and Todd was explicit in what kind of consequences awaited all the pack if post-heat Timothy got his hands on an unsanctioned energy source.
Damian didn’t want to experience the caffeine-induced cuddle pile ever again. The pack still doesn’t know what would happen if someone left it, and he was certain even Clarion didn’t want to risk it. Timothy’s threatening screeching in subvocal was very well executed. Damian’s instincts, despite all his resistance training, gave in immediately.
So he was to distract Timothy discreetly for the pack’s sake. “Timothy, where we go next? You said we can get supplies fot Teekl?” The cat disappeared when they went into spaces with no animals allowed and reappeared to accompany them otherwise. Damian was again proven right, Teekl had more common sense than most of the humans on this planet.
Timothy snapped out of his reverie and redirected his attention to him. “Hm? Oh yeah, there is a big pet shop on the second floor. But I think we should make it our last stop, since it would be a bit inconvenient to carry all stuff around. So, we go for clothes and then the pet shop. Sounds good?”
Damian nodded, satisfied. Timothy went on, saying something about keeping him from being overwhelmed. Which was obviously not needed, but Damian appreciated the opportunity to cut the ‘shopping’ part short. All presented choices for his physical age were abysmal anyway. Both in design and material. He didn’t even know they made clothes out of plastic.
Timothy backed him up on his expressed opinions, as he should, and promised to order more suitable wardrobe online on later notice when they had a bit more relaxed schedule. For now, they compromised with a few changes of clothes, including outerwear for colder weather, in neutral dark colours.
It will have to do. Blending in with civilians included dressing as one. Damian would adapt; Timothy assured him that garments from his preferred tailors were a league above shopping mall variety. But he needed to ‘experience’ going to one himself, Grayson said. He strongly disagreed but kept biting retorts to himself for a moment. Grayson looked convincing and way too happy for Damian’s liking. Maybe that’s why he didn’t protest much, though he would not mention that aloud.
All his reservations were forgotten and forgiven once they reached the zoological shop. Teekl meowed in interest, sniffing the aisle with transparent, oddly shaped backpacks. Ah, it must be those ‘cat bags’ Timothy mentioned.
Damian looked over, comparing sizes and designs. Almost all of them were too big for them, but a few could fit, if he adjusted the straps right. He clocked the attendant’s approach from afar but let the woman get closer. He could utilise her expertise. Timothy said he could ask for anything in the stores as long as he did it politely.
And because Damian was always polite, it wasn’t an issue, obviously.
“Can I help you and your companion with anything?” The attendant asked, looking at him and Teekl, radiating a welcoming air. Beta, and she knew to get straight to the point. Good.
“Yes, you can. We are looking for transportation means for Teekl, my packmate’s partner.” Teekl purred in agreement, the woman listening attentively. “But those seemed to be one size, do you have something more fitting for him and me?” Well, for Teekl’s current kitten form as it was. Damian couldn’t dream of lifting the cat in his true form.
The woman looked thoughtful for a moment.
“I believe we have a few smaller models in the back. They are not very popular, as people usually buy them for adult cats. They still might be a bit too big for you, but would you like to take a look anyway?”
He agreed, of course. He knew he was strong for his age, with all the training he had gone through. And Teekl would appreciate bigger space to feel comfortable as well. The attendant retrieved, and Damian decided to look around a little. The quality of goods here left a much better impression than clothing shops.
He selected several toys for Teekl and was eying the maze structure that would probably fit into his room if he nailed it to the walls. When Timothy returned from his own errand, he would ask permission to do it.
The woman came back, hands full of backpacks. Damian wordlessly took the first one, lowering it down for Teekl’s inspection. In the end, he found the only acceptable choice, both in design and quality. Teekl showed his approval by jumping inside and refusing to leave.
Damian shouldered the bag. The weight was barely noticeable.
“It works. We will take it and whatever cat treats you recommend. If my… brother allows, we would also be purchasing the maze.” Damian pointed to the thing in question.
“Of course. May I ask if Teekl is a rusty spotted cat?” The woman looked a little excited at the prospect.
Damian, knowing absolutely nothing about the species, confidently nodded. The attendant clapped her hands together, looking suitably impressed.
“Oh wow, that’s… amazing! If it’s not too much trouble, can you tell me where your packmate found him? Rusty spotted cats are endangered species and native to India and Shri Lanka… And they are usually not domesticated… Oh, I am sure you already know that, sorry.”
Damian frowned. Endangered? By whom?
“I don’t possess this knowledge, Teekl was with my packmate a long time before they became part of the pack. But I know that they came from the same place. And Teekl is very independent, I don’t think he is the typical representative of… his kind.”
The woman, despite his secret suspicion, just nodded, easily backing off. She went to retrieve the requested treats closer to the front of the store, Damian naturally following for the conversation.
“Oh, of course. I see that he is very well-behaved. I guess he is your pack’s emotional support animal? To tell the truth, I never saw a cat so smart. And I see a lot on a daily basis.” Her words caught Damian’s attention.
“Emotional support animal?” it was a new term he didn’t hear about. But the applications were… curious. Some of the pack members, especially Grayson, could use some emotional support. And not use Damian as a hugging substitute, thank you.
“Oh, maybe in those parts of Asia they are called something else… Well, those are pets, officially certified by a doctor, psychologist, or physiatrist, to help people with mental health. Social isolation, PTSD, emotional trauma, those sorts of things. They are also allowed where pets are normally prohibited.”
The woman was enthusiastic about the topic, and for once Damian wasn’t irritated by endless chit-chat. The information was intriguing and held a lot of potential. But the most interesting thing he learned from the attendant was the existence of special organisations dedicated to the protection of different animals. There was one for rusty spotted cats too, and Damian vowed to find all the info there was to find about it.
“If you are interested, I can give you the contacts of a local cat shelter in Gotham. I work there part-time, and you can come to take a look around, play with the cats and help with some of the tasks, if you’d have time. We even give out volunteer certificates for the schools.” The woman noticed his obvious interest and hesitated for a moment. “There is also a wild animals’ sanctuary, where they rehabilitate the wounded ones… if you want to visit, though, you need your parents’ or guardian’s permission and some training beforehand.”
Damian was sure Timothy or someone from the pack would accompany him if he asked. Maybe even Father would… Well, he will reserve that thought for later.
“Yes, it sounds amicable. Now, what is your name and work schedule at the shelter?”
The woman looked lost for a moment.
“I am sorry?”
He tapped his foot impatiently. Timothy was bound to return any minute and certainly wouldn’t want to waste time waiting for Damian’s inquiries.
“Your contacts, so I may know when to plan my visit, so you can show me around. You proved your competence and thus are a reasonable candidate to do it.”
He held his head high and barely bit back his full introduction. It would not do to be outed so soon, even before his first meeting with Father.
“You may call me Damian.” It was difficult not to add reflexive ‘Wayne-al Ghul, Ibn al Xu’ffasch’. The plebeian manner grated on his nerves, but he refrained. “I have a busy schedule next week, but you may expect me in two weeks’ time.”
The woman blinked, still looking unsure. “Um… Okay. Yeah, I have no problem with that. Just ask for Clementine, I am in on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons.”
“Excellent.” Damian committed the information to memory, stepping closer to the cash register. He spotted Timothy coming in with new bags and made a note to inspect them for the coffee contraband. Todd was making mujadara, and Damian wouldn’t risk being deprived of it. Not even for Timothy.
***
Tim was bursting at the seams with pride for Damian as if he was his own kid (in sense, he already was, fuck Talia al Ghoul). Damian listened and, despite the huge changes in his life, adopted very quickly. They haven’t had a single stubbing incident so far, even though Tim expected at least one by now. It totally wasn’t because Tim-in-the heat refused to confiscate baby’s weapons and Tim post heat didn’t bother too.
Damian was a smart kid and very stubborn too. He took an instant liking to Teekl and Clarion, to an extent. Of course, Witch Boy found the situation hilarious and shamelessly enjoyed the attention. But not counting minor (and funny for people uninvolved) hiccups, like Damian treating Dick like an old man on death’s bed, the kid was very close to ideal behaviour.
And what if there were threats of violence here and there? It’s not like they weren’t warranted. Especially against John Constantine. God, that man stinks.
They were vigilantes; violence was in their blood, after all. And if he was a bit more willing to accept it after his presentation heat… So what? He always knew it, just didn’t want to look too hard on that part of himself. The doctor said the feeling was perfectly natural and didn’t harm anybody unless he acted upon it.
And he wasn’t going to, not if they left his family pack alone. Otherwise… Well.
He always was a possessive bastard, long before Prime instincts kicked in. And now that he got the pack? Oh, he had some juicy contingencies for fools who don’t get the memo.
***
Clementine, Tina for friends, didn’t know what was going on anymore. The kid that just came into the store was nuts, but in a good sense? She was glad she approached him with customerTM smile, cause the boy had some serious hangups about proper manners, it seemed. He wasn’t from America, or at least didn’t spend much time here – his English was impeccable, free from any accent, which was probably taught nowadays only somewhere in private schools.
But the longer she spoke to him, the more genuinely interested she became in their conversation. For such a young age, he was very well-spoken and focused, almost uncomfortably so. His piercing eyes and face itched at something in her brain, like she should recognise him from somewhere. Even though she was sure she had never met someone like him in her life.
The boy, Damian, apparently, had a pack, he looked and smelled well looked after… And was a fellow cat person to boot. She was thrown from a track for a bit after his instant and one-minded decision to visit the shelter and, if she saw it right, the sanctuary. But she couldn’t deny the kid, however strange he was, not when he was looking at her with barely concealed expectation.
And his cat? Adorable! She couldn’t deny that she was secretly hoping that Damian would bring him around too. She watched all National Geographic documentaries about felines and wasn’t ashamed to admit it. It was what got her a job in the shop.
So she felt content overall, waiting for Damian’s brother to come get him and pay for the goods. It didn’t hurt that it was a hefty sum too, if they ended up buying the maze. And she was sure they would, somehow, she knew that Damian’s pack wouldn’t deny his request. Hell, in their place she would be hard-pressed to refuse in the face of such determination.
What she was not ready for, though, was Tim freaking Drake to come strolling, smelling like roses and radiating absolute smugness. Didn’t Damian mention a brother?..
Oh.
Oh!
Wow. She just met and had a full conversation with a new Wayne kid.
Wait… Wayne?..
She subtly squinted at Damian, who was now recounting their conversation and needling his brother to buy more toys for his cat.
Oh my god. It was like someone copy-pasted Brucie’s features onto a younger and darker-skinned (is it racist? She hoped she wasn’t being racist) boy. And with her earlier guess about him being raised outside of America… She just stumbled into a new Wayne kid’s dramatic backstory, didn’t she? At least the new kid inherited his wits from his mother.
It was kinda exciting to be the first in the know. Even though the only reason she recognised Tim Drake was her sister’s fangirling all over the guy. She had posters with his face plastered all over her room, so it was given that she had unwillingly memorised his facial structures.
Now he was, obliviously, in disguise, taking his new brother out for bonding… She wouldn’t breathe a word to the world, even if she was tempted for a second. But looking at excited Damian, who was hiding a smile at Mr Drake’s easy agreement to get the maze for the cat, she couldn’t be the first one to ruin the media-free bubble for both of them.
So she would be smug and raving in the private corner of her mind.
Mr Drake, as hearing her thoughts, looked her right in her eyes and smiled with gentle words.
“Thank you for helping Damian. Clementine, wasn’t it? It was nice to meet you, I think we will see you again sometime after we are a bit freer. You made Damian’s day, so thank you again.”
Oh her poor heart.
She was happily single, young and free (being aroace and beta to the boot would do that to you), but in that moment she had a stray thought. Not a very pure one.
And if she was knocked off her feet by that dazzling smile and a couple of sincere words, then how did the guy not have a crowd of fangirls (and fanboys) trailing after him? And was he always so… imposing? Captivating? So openly caring?
She knew that Tim Drale was an omega, but never thought about it. Now, regretting her many involuntary first thoughts on the subject, she knew he was an omega. She could smell it a mile away, tender and elusive, like rose petals.
So, it wasn’t her imagination then. Tim Drake literally smelled roses.
Whoever is going to capture his attention is going to be the luckiest bitch (or bastard) alive.
After bidding their farewells and scribbling the address for the delivery (she now had Tim Drake’s address?! She was going to burn that paper right after putting it into the system), she picked up her phone in a daze.
She wouldn’t say anything about the kid, but she had to know.
