Chapter Text
It was funny, in a way, how many times Dick had wanted nothing more than to see his second youngest brother when he was gone. Hell, he would have even taken a phone call— just to know that he was alive. Now though, Dick was staring at the back of his little brother’s head, and he had never felt farther away.
The boy looked haggard in a way that Dick had never seen him— gaunt and weary with a mean streak that hadn’t been there before. It made the Alpha in him want to snap at anything in close proximity to his brother. Mostly, he managed to rein in his instincts, but it wasn't always easy. Dick had learned the consequences of allowing his Alpha side too close to the surface near Tim. A shudder ran through him as he recalled the incident.
In the weeks after Tim had returned with Bruce in tow— and wasn’t that a shock of its own?— the boy hadn’t moved back into the manor. In fact, Tim only seemed to be comfortable in the Bat Cave, armed to the teeth with weapons and Kevlar. He understood that the boy didn’t trust them, and as much as it pained him, Tim had good reason not to. But Dick had always scented him Before. In fact, his second youngest brother had always sunk into Dick’s ministrations gratefully—
— Which was probably why Dick hadn’t been expecting the palm strike to the nose.
Sure, he was no stranger to Jason pulling something like that, but Tim had never shown that he was uncomfortable with that type of affection. Of course, that had been before all of his mistakes. Dick would never forgive himself for how everything went down. But since Bruce had come back Jason only ever seemed to fight any type of affection for show— and even the younger Alpha certainly hadn’t broken his nose for something as mundane as scenting.
After that incident, Tim had reluctantly apologized for his behavior, but the boy’s shoulders had been tense the rest of the night. No one had seen Tim for a few weeks after that, and when they did the boy looked drained and ghostly pale.
It’s a good thing Tim doesn’t have a designation, Dick thought as he considered his brother’s form at the Bat Computer, or he’d be near collapse by now.
Those without designations didn’t necessarily need close familial ties, but it was essential for the mental and emotional health of those that did. Even if it hurt Dick deeply that Tim refused to step foot in the manor— even if he ached with the need to mark his little brother with his protective scent— at least it wasn’t hurting the other boy to go without. Touch starvation and isolation from pack could be downright dangerous for the rest of them, potentially even fatal if emotional degradation progressed enough.
“If you’re done staring at the back of my head, we should probably head out.” Tim’s tone was absolutely withering. “You know, considering we’re the only two Bats in town.”
Dick flinched at the boy’s tone. Sure, Tim had broken his nose for the crime of scenting him before, but that had only seemed to be a learned reaction. Recently, Tim had been on a hair trigger, and Dick knew his little brother was less than thrilled to be patrolling with him. But it couldn’t be helped. Bruce and Damian were on a space mission, Stephanie and Babs were visiting Cass in Hong Kong, and Jason was off with the Outlaws through the weekend. Even Alfred had gone on a brief, but well earned, vacation.
“Call me if you need backup, okay? And remember to keep your coms on at all times.”
Dick reached out a hand to steady the boy as he got up from the computer chair and swayed in place. When was the last time Tim got any sleep? The bags under his eyes were deeper than he had ever seen them before, clearer now that the boy was facing the well-lit Medbay.
Before his palm could make contact with Tim’s Kevlar, the boy had already smacked it out of the way and put three feet between them with a scathing glare. “‘Don’t touch me.”
Despite himself, a flare of righteous anger shot through Dick’s chest. He understood all of the ways he had fucked up. He understood that his apology hadn’t been enough—and that it wouldn’t ever be; he even understood why Tim couldn’t seem to look him in the eyes anymore. But he was just trying to help. Tim was still his little brother, his pack.
Dick didn’t bother to keep the irritation out of his scent. Tim couldn’t smell it anyway as a Null, but the boy must have seen anger in his face because he flinched away regardless. Another wave of guilt overtook him, but there was nothing Dick could do about it now. It seemed like he couldn’t do right by the other boy, and hadn’t been able to in a long while. Something heavy settled deep in his chest, an ache that Dick had been living with ever since the other boy had left Gotham that fateful day.
Tim hopped on his bike, and as it roared to life he spoke one last lifeless time. “I’ll be fine. You stay on your half of Gotham, and I’ll stay on mine.”
Then the boy was gone in a wave of noise and exhaust smoke. Dick took a deep breath— a mistake which left him hacking and coughing. The fumes from Tim’s speedy exit had not yet dissipated from the air. It was strange though, Dick thought bitterly, how his own upset scent didn’t even seem like his own anymore. He wondered, not for the first time, if the situation between him and his little brother would ever get better.
With a sigh, he swung his leg over his own motorcycle and took off into the night. The others would be back soon. He just hoped they could avoid any further blow ups until someone else was there to mitigate their precarious relationship.
So, Tim considered from where he was tied to the ceiling, he was not fine. Why was it always an empty warehouse? Were there any used for commercial purposes in Gotham?
He had thought Ivy would lay low for a bit before she enacted any nefarious plans, and Tim certainly hadn’t expected to find her in the first place he looked. It was a Pyrrhic victory to be sure, but at least he had found her? Tim wasn’t exactly grateful to be bound with chains, unable to reach his emergency beacon, but at least Ivy seemed to want to monologue tonight.
Truth be told, Tim had almost dozed off during the first thirty minutes of her speech. He could catch the spark notes version of later with his cowl footage. His mind wandered from the raving woman in front of him to the way his skin itched and stung as it had been doing for the past six months.
Despite popular belief, Tim wasn’t an idiot, and he certainly wasn’t crazy. He knew that he probably should have updated his file with his designation when he came back with Bruce. And he probably would have, if he had presented as an Alpha. Hell, even if he had presented as a Beta Tim would have told his family fellow vigilantes. But when had life ever been that simple?
No, Tim had presented as an Omega when he was with the League. His designation had been catastrophic enough, but paired with the League it had meant assassination attempts and beating back anyone who had gotten close to him. Scent blockers hadn’t been allowed in the League— a fact that had been close to torture on his newly heightened sense of smell.
He had never figured out why Ra’s hadn’t outed him to the Bats, but he was grateful to the megalomaniac nevertheless. Most of the vigilantes in Gotham were Alphas, some were Betas too of course, but Tim— to his knowledge— was the only Omega. And for as long as he could help it, that would remain as his knowledge alone. Aside from Tam and Pru, no one he considered a friend knew about his designation.
Tim shuddered as he remembered what Jack and Janet Drake had said about Omegas when he was younger.
”Omegas exist to be married off to further business deals, Timothy. It is one of the oldest unspoken rules of the trade.”
”No one would ever take an Omega seriously as the future CEO of Drake Enterprises. It’s a good thing you’ll be a Beta like your mother or an Alpha like me, right buddy?”
Truthfully, he had never asked Bruce or the others about their opinion on Omegas. It hadn’t ever seemed like something to be brought up in conversation. Tim had always been too afraid to ask anyway.
Somewhere deep down he had always known he would present as an Omega. Tim had always known that he would just need to hide who he was. It wasn’t as though his parents were ever around, and scent blockers were a lot stronger than they used to be. Sure, you weren’t supposed to use them 24/7 but rules were made to be broken right? Tim had been using them ever since he had sprung him and Tam from the League. So far, he hadn’t had any terribly adverse side effects. If he set aside the horrible mood swings, depression, insomnia, skin irritation, and fainting spells.
Of everything, it was the way his skin on bad nights seemed to have pins and needles that would keep him awake. And the thing was… he wanted to reach out to Dick. It killed him how much he wanted to sink into one of the man’s hugs and never let go. Tim could still remember their warmth— could still remember how safe he felt when the other was there to protect him. But if the man ever found out about him…
… If his big brother began to hate him for his designation, Tim didn’t know if he could survive that. Sure, the man had treated every Omega he encountered with the utmost respect and courtesy, but it was different with Tim. Dick cared about Damian, and the kid had grown up in the League. He was well acquainted with how they dealt with Omegas there. And if it came down to it, Dick would choose Damian over the next door neighbor that had forced his way into a family that wasn’t his.
And, as much as it hurt, Tim wouldn’t really blame the man for that.
“You’re not even listening to me.” Ivy’s hiss broke Tim from his thoughts.
It was interesting, in a way, how Tim was Gotham’s only Omega vigilante and Ivy was Gotham’s only Omega villain. The thick scent of disapproval and outrage nearly choked him, despite his growing familiarity with it.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll catch it when you inevitably fail next time too.” Tim winced a bit as soon as the words came out of his mouth.
Pain pollen had sucked the last time he had mouthed off to the Rogue. He had writhed on the floor of his safe house for twelve hours, keening for pack that wouldn’t come because he didn’t call them, because they couldn’t know about what he was. His skin had burned like fire, and his instincts went haywire with all of the flare of fear toxin. Hell had nothing on what that woman had concocted. Tim had actually had to abandon that particular bolt hole because his agonized scent had been so deeply enmeshed into the paint and furniture of the place. He had even had to burn the suit before he had left. There were just some things scent blockers couldn’t mask— miracle workers though they were.
“You know, you remind me of the strong silent type,” Ivy purred as she circled him.
Something ugly settled into Tim’s stomach, but he managed to keep anything nasty from spewing from his lips.
“I’m sure the cuddle pollen that I hit you with last time really did a number on that facade you put on—” The woman continued, but again Tim had stopped listening.
Wait, did she really use cuddle pollen on me last time?
That couldn’t have been right. Cuddle pollen had never affected him like that. Ever. Tim had even concocted an antidote around the idea of pain pollen. Sure he hadn’t had a chance to try it yet, but the woman had seemed to stop using it after that particular time. Tim just assumed that she had only used it once because he was a particular annoyance to her.
The plants around his wrist tightened enough that the bones in his wrist started to creak dangerously. Tim choked back a whimper. He had gotten used to a certain level of pain since he had presented, always there but almost never being more than he could handle. Tim had gotten good at handling the pain. He… He just really wished he could reach his emergency beacon.
“You know I was honestly just going to leave you here— no pollen in the mix,” Ivy hissed, “But I’m not feeling so generous anymore.”
Tim wasn’t dumb enough to believe that, but Ivy was known for making stronger pollens when she was upset— especially if she felt like the other person didn’t think she was worthy of their time. A stone sunk into his stomach as a plant rapidly bloomed near his face. Tim sent up a desperate prayer that it wasn’t going to be cuddle pollen; he didn’t know if he could survive that alone again. But he didn’t have any other options. The last time… the last time he had gotten lucky that no one had figured out his designation. Sure, he hadn’t exactly felt that way when he wanted to claw off his own skin, but… pain was temporary, knowledge was forever.
A shower of glittering green fell over him, and every nerve ending in his body lit up like he’d been thrown into acid. A scream ripped from his vocal cords as the smell of Fear-Desperation-AGONY perforated the air. Tim had synthesized his scent blockers himself, far above acceptable medical limits, but even that didn’t seem to touch the hormones rolling off of him in waves.