Chapter Text
From another point of view:
It was a long ride in the car from Warner's place to his new mate's.
No, not mate. Fuck. This "Bruce" wasn't going to be any different from any of the previous fuckfaces that had used him, even with the bite. The bite didn't mean the same thing to a cat as it did to omegas from TV. Cats were property to these knotheads and diseased freaks to the rest of the world, as Jason had cruelly experienced during his brief period on the run. He'd been such an idiot at first; he thought someone would help him. And it had gotten him right back in the same awful place. If he'd managed to escape from Lee, he wouldn't have made that mistake again...
Ah, but what was the damn point. He didn't. And now he was trapped for good.
Jason had heard Warner chiding Bruce about biting him, with the chilling note that when Jason died (and it was obvious that Warner thought that would be soon) that it would fucking, like, bum the alpha out, or something.
Fucking good, Jason thought. You fucking shithead. Sorry my goddamn murder is gonna inconvenience you.
Jason had always wondered what it would be like to be bitten, back when he'd never thought it would happen to him. It had looked romantic and tender on TV, a soft clenching of teeth on the neck while the omega swooned. The real thing hadn't been like that; his throat still hurt, although maybe that was from the way the alpha had ripped off the collar like a maniac.
He had heard alphas warning each other not to bite cats in heat before. "Haha, watch out, if you bite him, you'll get pussy-whipped." As if anything could make them have feelings. Alphas weren't capable of any soft feelings, Jason was sure of it; and if humans in general were, Jason had only seen it on television.
If he did get pregnant, and it wasn't a cat, Jason would kill himself before they could take it out, he thought idly as he rocked in the backseat. Then at least wherever they dumped his body, he wouldn't be alone, at least. Yeah, that wasn't a bad plan. He could go out on his own terms. One final fuck you.
His mood slightly cheerier from having a plan, Jason relaxed as much as his restraints would allow.
———
As far as catteries went, his new digs weren't bad.
On the negative side, there wasn't even a window, much less any outdoor space. His first place away from Todd, he actually had his own little outdoor space, which in hindsight was really nice, and not even for the escape attempts; it had wire over the top, so he couldn't climb the fence, but he could feel the sun on his face and lie on the grass. That was nice. He missed grass.
But the indoor space was bigger than any of his previous places, even the place he had shared with his mom. He even had a full bathroom! A toilet that flushed! Jason acted bored and mean when Bruce showed him around, but inside he was actually happy.
Well. He was happy and he wasn't. He was happy, as a surface veneer, over the boiling rage and fear and pain that was his constant reality. But surface happy was better than nothing. You have to take what you can get.
Bruce was super weird and awkward once he got Jason to the cattery. He started talking like Jason had experienced before with some friends of former owners, who wanted to fuck him but also wanted to make it clear they didn't usually do this kind of thing, as if Jason gave a shit. But Bruce just... kept it up. And left, without fucking him! Without even properly scenting some stuff for Jason to nest with, which even fucking Warner had bothered to do!
In a rage, Jason flipped a table, then picked up a chair and smashed it against a wall. The chair shattered but the wall didn't even get a dent, and Jason paused, then gingerly reached to touch the wall where he'd just been wailing away at it.
Not even a scratch on the paint. What the fuck was going on with this place?! Bruce wanted to act like he was trying to shut the cat trade down, but this cattery was solid. No way was he new to keeping a slave!
When Bruce reappeared through that bizarre hidden door that opened and closed without any visible seam, he stopped short, because Jason was methodically pulling handfuls of stuffing out of a cushion and throwing them onto the flipped table.
"I'll uh... I'll just start by cleaning this up then..." Bruce said, and then he... started cleaning?
Jason finished pulling out everything in the cushion as Bruce gathered up the large pieces and then got a broom to sweep. The catboy sat, his ears flattened, with the empty cushion case gripped tightly in his fingers, as Bruce kept cleaning and then spoke up again: "Do you know what size clothing you wear?"
"An L."
That made Bruce look up. "An L? Are you sure?"
"Well, that's what it says on the tags." Jason grabbed the tag in the back of his shirt and yanked it up the side of his neck a little in an offer to show him.
Bruce blanched and looked down at the floor again. "Oh. A child's L."
Jason wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that, and it seemed Bruce didn't know either, because there was another long silence, until Bruce finished with the chair and stood up. "May I have that, please?"
Jason silently held out the cushion case, then pulled his knees up to his chest. He could feel the pudge of his heat bump against the front of his thighs.
As Bruce reassembled the cushion, he said, "Do you, ah... any toys, entertainment devices, that you like?"
"Does that TV have Netflix?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Oh, cool, where's the remote? I bet I missed so much good stuff. I haven't been able to watch TV for months."
Bruce paused the cushion job to fetch Jason the remote, and then just handed it to him and went back to fixing the cushion.
Jason turned the TV on and flipped through channels, with a lump in his throat, always watching Bruce in the corner of his eye, because any moment now Bruce was going to sit next to him, and then the "game" would start. The one that ended with fucking. Jason hated this. He really would rather they just fucked, but... Bruce was definitely a rough alpha, once he got going, for all that he wanted to play this game that it was "rape" and he was "ashamed". Outside of heat, it was probably going to hurt. Maybe stretching out the anticipation would give him more time to get wet, and then it wouldn't hurt so much.
Jason decided to find Poldark and see if there were any new episodes... actually, he could just rewatch the first episodes, that way it wouldn't matter when it got interrupted.
Bruce righted the table and then stared at the television, then back at Jason. "That's what you want?"
"Yeah. What about it?" Jason put the remote control down on the newly righted table with a satisfying thunk.
Bruce's head swiveled back towards the television, and he stood there like a tall dark statue while the opening minute played with a bunch of soldiers in eighteenth century British redcoat soldiers uniforms chatting in a field over cards.
When a shot was fired, splattering the cards with blood, Bruce looked back at Jason again. Jason was expecting it but pretended he wasn't, acting totally engrossed by the muskets and bayonets, the sweat and the gunsmoke, and then the ethereal form of an omega in flashback, the main character's motivation to survive... although Jason knew they weren't going to end up together at all.
"Alright, well... I'll get Alfred to get you those clothes, then," Bruce said, and while Jason worked very hard at ignoring him, he left. He left.
Jason indulged himself with a good loud scream.
The weirdest fucking alpha in the world. Fuck his luck.
———
"Oh dear, dear, dear," tutted Alfred as he came into the room holding a tray with Jason's meal and prenatal vitamins. Jason had managed to wrench the bathroom mirror from the wall and thrown it down in the main area. It had made a spectacular sound, but the shattered bits had really gone everywhere, meaning that Jason was now stuck on the couch. "Don't move, Master Jason, I will return shortly."
Once he was gone, Jason scowled. To be honest, he was embarrasssed that it was Alfred, not Bruce, who saw this mess. Plus that food had looked really good and he was hungry.
Being called Master Jason had been a mindfuck at first.
"Huh? I'm not a master, you making fun of me?"
"No, sir, the opposite. It may be considered very old-fashioned, but this is how I choose to show respect and courtesy. I find that elegance in speech provides a stability in even the most turbulent situations."
"You just walk off the set of Downton Abbey or something?"
"No, sir, but it is quite an enjoyable series."
"Yeah... it's not bad."
"Perhaps we could watch it together?"
So Alfred became his period drama buddy, something that he hoped Bruce didn't know about. He hadn't been embarrassed to have Bruce watch him watching Poldark, which at least started with some good violence, but being caught watching Pride and Prejudice and Lady Chatterley's Alpha was somehow different. Right now, the television was showing a nature documentary about migrating geese. He had the subtitles on, something Alfred had suggested to help him with his reading.
Bruce and Alfred came back together, and Bruce started cleaning, starting with a path for Alfred to take Jason his meal.
Jason took the tray and tore into the sandwich without saying thank you. Alfred clicked his tongue, but didn't frown, and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a vacuum, with which he started going over the areas where Bruce had dealt with the large pieces.
The vacuum wasn't that loud, but nobody tried to talk until the task was done.
When that happened, Alfred looked at Bruce, and Bruce looked at Alfred, and clearly they were having some kind of silent argument, but Jason didn't bother to figure it out. Alfred had put some salmon jerky on the tray, and Jason had saved it for last, because it was the best part. He closed his eyes to savour the taste.
When he opened his eyes, Alfred was gone, and Bruce was just standing there with no expression on his big square face.
Jason had been there a week now, and he'd given Bruce lots and lots of opportunity to be the good guy or whatever the fuck he wanted. During Jason's heat it had started with Bruce being a "good guy" and then within an hour he was making Jason cry on his cock, so Jason knew the good guy act was not going to last, and he was really looking forward to calling the bastard out on it when he broke character at last.
It wasn't that like Jason enjoyed getting cigarettes put out on his arms or belts lashing across his back or a punch in the face, or getting fucked in the ass with no lube, or whatever; but expecting it and choosing to lash out anyway was exhilarating. They could spank him, but they couldn't untear the sheets. That made it worth it.
With previous owners he'd had to resort to pissing and shitting everywhere, but that had been mostly when he had nothing else to make a mess with. Plus that had been places with airflow where he could at least find somewhere clean to sleep. Having his own toilet and shower was so nice, and he hadn't gotten over the novelty of it, after so long without.
Bruce stared at him as Jason took the last sip of milk from his cup, then looked away, noticed something, and bent down, back to Jason, reaching for a missed piece of mirror on a floating shelf.
Jason wound up and threw the cup at the big black expanse of his back. Easiest targ—
Bruce caught it. One handed he caught it! Without even fully having turned his head, let alone his body. Holy ravioli! How had he even known Jason had thrown it?! Jason could have sworn he wasn't looking at him!
Jason's eyes went wide as he looked at the sheer size of that single hand wrapped around the cup. He had seen Bruce naked, he knew the man was fucking jacked. Shit, shit, shit! He had been so cocky but getting beaten by Bruce was not going to be like the pasty flailing of Warner or Lee. Even Todd, whose beatings were worse than any he'd gotten since he left his breeder, couldn't compare to Bruce. Bruce wouldn't need a belt or a cigarette or anything—
Jason was about to die and it was going to hurt like hell the entire fucking time he was dying.
The cat bolted, launching nearly straight vertical over the back of the couch and for the closest "hiding spot" he knew about, which was the closet. He pulled himself up on the bar and kicked a leg up onto the top shelf, quickly wiggling the rest of him in, and then turned a big basket that was up there sideways and hid himself behind it. Truly pointless, since it wouldn't do anything to protect him and since Bruce had just seen him run into the closet, but Jason wasn't budging from this spot until Bruce dragged him out shrieking.
But Bruce didn't drag him out.
The alpha just... left. Without saying anything. Again.
Up in the closet, Jason started to cry. He wanted Bruce to come back. His bond mark was throbbing, and there was this horrible feeling of guilt like he'd never felt before. It was like it was external and yet coming from inside his own body at the same time. Fuck! Why was Bruce doing this to him? Why did he want Bruce to come back?
Jason moved the basket out of the way just in time to vomit down onto the floor of the closet, then spat a few times to get the taste out as much as he could. Then he huddled back inside the shelf, as far in as possible, and eventually fell asleep.
When he woke up, someone had cleaned up the vomit.
———
The weeks went by, marked for Jason by the date and time on the home screen on the television and by the creepy "natural" light in the cattery. Seriously, what kind of money had Bruce sank into this place? He had it set up that the light coming from the ceiling somehow did a "sunrise" thing and changed colour over the day before "setting" and eventually becoming the pitchest of blacks, at which point Jason could only turn on the light in the bathroom if he wanted a light other than the TV, because he repeatedly smashed the other lamps. It wasn't a big deal because Jason liked the dark. Bad things didn't happen in the dark—that was when alphas were with their families or whatever.
There was a bed, a big one, and on his second day there it had been full of nesting materials still in their packaging, which smelled bad. Sometimes Jason slept under the bed. He also liked the main room closet shelf, the bathtub, and the laundry hamper (split open on one side and stuffed with cushion filling).
Bruce kept coming by every day, and kept non-reacting to Jason's destruction and sass. He didn't beat him, and he didn't fuck him, and that was the only two things alphas ever did, so Jason thought he might be losing his mind. Bruce's presence made his stomach so nervous that he'd throw up, but when he was absent Jason was always thinking about when Bruce would come back, and maybe if this time he'd punish him and then life would be something he could understand.
He was getting hornier and hornier too. Plus it was a weird horny. Like, emotionally horny? But that wasn't it either. It was something that just masturbating wasn't fixing, anyway. And it was leading him into humiliating shit like pressing his face exactly where Bruce's ass had been sitting after the alpha left.
When his punishment started, it took Jason a while to realize it. It wasn't the first day that elapsed without Bruce coming in, or the second or third, but on the fourth day, when Alfred came in and found Jason huddled up crying against the hidden door, that's when Jason realized it.
Still, he was stubborn. Jason just looked up at Alfred and said, as if he hadn't been crying at all, "Oh, hey."
Alfred said politely, "Good morning, Master Jason. May I come in?"
Jason got out of his way, and Alfred came in with the tray.
"I believe Master Bruce's... business commitments may be longer than I first anticipated," Alfred said while Jason poked half-heartedly at a little blob of scrambled egg with his fork.
Jason shrugged. "Whatever." He'd had absent owners before, and it was a nice break. The only problem right now was that the situation was so weird that of course everything would hit him weird. Plus, he was at ten weeks pregnant, peak morning sickness, everything all over the fucking zoo. This was his fifth time going through it. He'd never gotten much farther than ten weeks, because that was about the point that they could do the ultrasound to determine if it was a cat or not. That was probably part of why he was such a mess. Worrying that Bruce had been lying about letting Jason get to keep it. Nothing to do with wanting Bruce around.
———
Jason wanted Bruce around. So bad. So, so fucking bad.
At week twelve he'd seen that doctor again, the omega that acted like a doctor from TV. She was the only human omega Jason had ever interacted with in real life so he had liked her immediately from the first visit, and in the second visit she actually let Jason see his baby and told him neat shit like how long it was and stuff; that it looked like a healthy human baby with no signs of hybridization. She talked about more visits and tests that would be done at 18 weeks, 24 weeks... she gave him two books about pregnancy and childbirth.
"We may have to get you prepped for a homebirth," said Dr. Thompson, frowning. "I don't know when it'll be safe for you to leave this panic room. Bruce hasn't told me a thing."
Homebirth? Jason had no idea why she was frowning. It had birth in the word, Bruce hadn't been lying!
He'd been elated as she left, but then as he flipped through the books his mood suddenly crashed.
Bruce hadn't been lying back then... but now Bruce was gone. Over two weeks gone! Jason had even asked Alfred as casually as possible when Bruce was coming back, and Alfred had scrunched his moustache around and said that Master Bruce had "not responded yet to his usual channels" whatever that meant.
What if Bruce had changed his mind? What if he was off getting another cat—one who would be good from the start and act nice to him—fuck! Of course! That must be what Bruce was waiting for with his nice guy act, this was some kind of rescuer fantasy or something and all Jason had to do, to have his own baby that would love him, and a clean comfortable cattery with unlimited Netflix and three meals a day, was play along, but Jason had been too fucking stubborn and now he had ruined everything! Hell! Hell! Hell! Of course he had! Bruce wouldn't trust him with a baby when he was smashing up the place every day!
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when Alfred found him hyperventilating inside the bathtub with the lights out. Alfred got him a glass of water, said he'd be right back, and when he did come back, he had some of Bruce's things that still had traces of his scent on them.
"My apologies, Master Jason," Alfred said as he sat with dignity on the closed lid of the toilet while Jason smushed his face into a pillow without a case. "Most of Master Bruce's things have been cleaned or laundered since the last time he used them, but I had taken the liberty of assembling a few things that I thought might retain his scent when I realized he may be absent longer than is reasonable. I should have brought them to you without waiting for you to ask for them."
Jason managed to pull his face off the pillow enough to say between hiccups, "Alfred—I won't be bad anymore. I didn't understand before, but I can be good—tell him I can be good. No! Wait! He won't believe—I'll show you. And then you can tell him. Don't tell him yet, promise, please?"
"Oh, my dear boy," said Alfred, and when Jason's lip wibbled as he looked at him, added, "I promise."
———
Being good sucked.
He felt like he had an itching in his fingertips and a burning in his throat. He did scream if he was alone, because at least that left no traces.
He and Alfred were able to make more progress in his literacy now that Jason wasn't destroying the materials half the time. So that part wasn't bad.
If Alfred wasn't spending time with him he really would have gone crazy. Jason knew he was a wreck, all tremblings and whines he couldn't always hold back, and he probably stunk from his nerves even with showering every day, sometimes twice.
"Alfred," he said earnestly at one point, when they had finished a lesson and Alfred was offering to teach him to play a card game, "if—I don't know what Bruce wants. I mean what he really wants."
"I can entirely empathize, Master Jason," Alfred said dryly as he shuffled.
"If—if you think Bruce wouldn't mind, or, or if Bruce would want it, maybe it's what Bruce wanted, but, but I wouldn't mind, is what I wanted to tell you, if, um. You've been really nice to me and if you wanted me to get you off... I've done stuff for owner's friends before, tons, and that wasn't... but with you it would be different because... because you're really nice..."
Jason trailed off because Alfred had slid the card deck back together and was staring at the intricate blue and white design on the top card's back as if it held secret information for him.
"My dear child," Alfred said at last, looking up at him and smiling in such a kind way that Jason couldn't keep eye contact, "I decline your offer, but I want you to know that I understand and appreciate very much the spirit in which it was made. I can say also that I am positive that Master Bruce doesn't want you to feel obliged to offer such to me or to anyone else."
"Oh," said Jason, and blinked back the temptation to cry. "You... won't tell Bruce then, right?"
"Certainly not. It has nothing to do with Master Bruce." Alfred began to deal out the cards. "This was a simple misunderstanding between friends."
Jason smiled, and his ears slowly stood back up.
———
Bruce came back!
He came back and the alpha had reacted better than Jason had dared to hope to Jason's apologies and embraces. It had been the best sex Jason had ever had outside of a heat. Jason had never been attracted to an owner like he was to Bruce. They had all been disgusting inside and out. Bruce was like a Greek god.
He said he'd take care of Jason and the baby. Even though it wasn't a cat! And if it wasn't a cat, Jason wouldn't have to see his kitten get sold away from him as soon as the kitten reached breeding age.
All Jason had to do was be good. He could be good. This was all going to be worth it.
Jason made a proper, human-style nest in the bed. He didn't really like it as a place to sleep, but Bruce scented all the material which made it bearable, and Bruce even would come in very late and sleep in the bed with him, which was amazing. The best was when Bruce would splay those big hands against Jason's swollen stomach.
Plus if Bruce was sleeping in bed with him at night, that must mean Bruce didn't have another family. Maybe he really would treat Jason's baby like his child.
———
A week after Bruce came back, he told Jason that he needed to take a short trip. Two days, three max, and he'd be in touch with Alfred.
Be good, be good, be good, Jason chanted internally and nodded.
On the second day, while Jason was practicing his handwriting, the door opened behind him.
"Who are you?" said a stranger's voice, and Jason jerked around.
There before the closing wall was a man in a black costume with a blue stylized bird across the chest and a domino mask. Jason didn't often watch the news, but even he could recognize Nightwing.
Jason froze. A vigilante—a crime fighter. Jason knew very well that his existence was against the law, that everyone hated cats except alphas who only wanted them in secret. But the world hated the alphas who kept them as pets too. Nightwing would get Bruce in trouble and then it would be goodbye Bruce, goodbye cattery, goodbye Alfred, goodbye any chance of keeping his baby—
"Hey," the hero said, softer, and reached up to his throat to peel something off. Immediately, soothing omega pheromones filled the cattery. Without making any sudden movements, Nightwing put down the sticks he'd been holding in one hand so that both his hands were empty, and he held his palms out low at his sides, unthreatening. "You're okay, buddy, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I just didn't know who was in here."
Chemically, the pheromones were helping, taking the hard edge off Jason's terror, but in some ways that was worse. He'd been so scared that he'd stopped thinking. Now he was thinking again and that meant remembering that everything was over.
"Oh, man. Where's catnip when you need it," laughed Nightwing to himself as tears streamed down Jason's face. Slowly, Nightwing eased himself down to his knees, an even more unthreatening posture, and held out one hand towards Jason. "C'mere, kitty. I won't hurt you. I'm Nightwing. I'm... friends with Batman."
Yeah, but what was that supposed to do with anything? If anything, Batman was even worse than Nightwing. Batman was scary. Jason had heard owners warning each other not to get near to Gotham. Batman didn't kill anyone, but he sure could beat the hell out of them.
"Still too scared, huh?" Nightwing didn't sound mad, but that didn't reassure Jason any. "Okay, well... I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be here. You don't look much like a felonious invader to me. Just feline-ious." He laughed a moment at his own terrible joke. "Don't suppose you know where Batman is?"
Jason shook his head.
"You probably want me to leave."
Jason nodded rapidly.
Nightwing laughed again. "Okay, Little Cat. I'll get out of your fur."
With that, the vigilante grabbed his sticks, stood up, and left, putting his gloveless right hand to the wall in the same spot as Bruce and Alfred did, and the wall opened for him, just like it did for them.
About a minute after Nightwing left, when he felt unfrozen enough to attempt movement, Jason crept over to the wall and reached up to try putting his hand in the spot.
Nothing happened.
The wall knew Nightwing? Nightwing was allowed in and out of Bruce's cattery?!
But that man had definitely been an omega... there was no way that he could be part of the trade... right?
Jason wrapped his arms around his middle protectively. Maybe he could ask Alfred. Maybe Nightwing was on the take from Bruce? That would be okay, that would mean that Jason wasn't in danger after all.
It was all really confusing.
Jason abandoned his handwriting practice and went to the sleeping room to curl up in a ball among Bruce's scent.