Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

In addition to investigating as Batman, Bruce Wayne didn't hesitate to seize opportunities using his real identity—real, well, legal, anyway—to get leads. But the crimes Mr. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises could get wind of had mostly been financial. Exploitation of employees, insider sabotages, callous disregard of regulations... rotten and despicable, but mostly dealt with by leaking information here and there. Occasionally Batman had to make an appearance in some overconfident fat cat's office to scare him back onto the straight and narrow.

When Colin Warner had taken him aside in a cloakroom at a conference and asked him if he was blue because he was 'missing his boy', Bruce had been first surprised and then even found it a little charming. Of course, he missed Dick, nobody could know how much, especially since their parting had been bitter and not yet fully mended. The question seemed so innocent; plus the fact that Warner had seen past his debonair, schmoozing façade seemed to show high perceptiveness and empathy.

So Bruce, in a rare moment of truthfulness as Bruce Wayne, and an even rarer moment of vulnerability that he wouldn't allow himself often in any identity, had admitted it: yes, he missed his boy. He was proud—he forced himself to say—to see how the young man was striking out on his own in Bludhaven, but still, he did miss him.

He had never expected in that moment that the conversation would continue, and continue, and on other dates continue, until it became clear that innocence had nothing to do with Warner. That Warner thought that Bruce had sexually abused or even raped Dick throughout his boyhood and then released him when he was eighteen and tall despite his omega dynamic. That Bruce was a pedophile... just like Warner. And it had continued until Bruce had realized that Warner was even worse than a common pedophile.

And now, Bruce was getting so close to getting enough evidence to crack what might be the biggest human trafficking ring he'd ever come across.

Well, to Bruce, it was human trafficking. To Warner, the United Nations convention where most countries around the world agreed to recognize that animal-human hybrids had the same human rights as other humans was an irritating setback to be ignored. He'd managed to get not only his own "stock", but he had connections to other "dealers" across the world.

It was one of the trickiest cases Bruce had ever worked on, because he had to get in deep, but he also had to try to protect his legal identity from getting tied up in it. Fortunately, Warner thought he understood his caution; Bruce Wayne did have a lot to lose, and buying underage omega sex slaves was the kind of scandal that could stick to even a billionaire.

Warner specialized in catboys, explaining to Bruce that nekos were even better than ordinary boys, and had a seemingly endless list of reasons why. They were all omegas, and "strongly expressed" omegas, whatever that meant. They stayed young and cute looking for a long time, decades, at least; the hybrids hadn't been around longer than that. Then there was his horrifying laugh when he said that catboys were "not exactly submissive by nature, but they're smart and they get cause and effect very quickly."

Warner's only complaint was that they were "difficult to breed"; most catboys conceived regular human fetuses most of the time, although this could be tested in utero and "dealt with".

It was a real ordeal, gaining Warner's trust, having to act a role of being someone just as disgusting, but it seemed to be progressing well, until suddenly Bruce realized it had progressed too well.

Bruce had met Warner at his house, as he had several times before, but this time Warner led him to a door, unlocked and opened it.

"Got a surprise for you," Warner said without looking over his shoulder as he went through the door.

As Bruce followed, he realized there was an omega in heat somewhere nearby.

"I had a return," Warner continued. "This little kitty nearly caused a disaster for his owner with his escape attempts. And this was the second try, and an owner who had really good security. He's nearly escaped from me as well, so even though I'd have liked to try to breed him—wait til you see his colouring—I can't risk it. So I'll be putting him down, but he's gone into heat and I thought, I'm keeping Bruce waiting, why not let him have a preview? In heat he won't be trying to run away, but we got him tied just in case."

The smell was getting stronger and the gears in Bruce's head were whirling. How to get this poor boy out of here before Warner could kill him? Of course Bruce could just knock Warner out and take the boy, but that would mean an end to discovering where Warner kept the bulk of his "merchandise" and how he was transporting them. Moreover, handling an omega in heat to get him out of this place while also dodging Warner's security and making sure that there was no evidence that Warner could use to frame him would be a dizzying task.

Dizzying... was it really dizzying? Or was there just... something fuzzing up his head, fogging up his mind... the heat smell? No, Bruce had never been affected this strongly by heat pheromones.

There was a muffled scream coming from the direction they were walking, but Warner laughed and said, "Oh, and they scream if you don't fuck them quickly enough. Some people don't like it but I find it a real ego boost."

Warner unlocked and opened one more door, and Bruce inhaled sharply.

"Fantastic, isn't it?" Warner said with a grin, and gestured for Bruce to go in. "Told you. You'll be hooked after this. Go on in."

Bruce's feet propelled him through the door, and his eyes couldn't look away from the elegant, pathetic youth on the bed. Flushed, almost irritated looking skin, nipples peaked and swollen, tears or sweat leaking from beneath a blindfold. His dark hair had a little tufted white streak in the front, his ears were black with white tips, and the black tail that squirmed underneath him likewise had a white tip. The catboy was rubbing his thighs together and whimpering, pulling on where his two hands were restrained to the top of the bed. A black collar covered most of his neck. It had a little bell hanging off it that rattled more than rang as he moved. Most grotesque of all, he was wearing a diaper.

"Alpha?" The boy called out, stilling and sniffing the air as Bruce came in.

"Yes, it's a new Master, kitten. Show him how good you can be and maybe he'll take you home, hmm?"

The boy visibly stiffened at Warner's voice, then breathed in sharply through his nose. His mouth twisted a moment before he opened to say, "...Master, help me."

Warner winked at Bruce. "There's a bathroom through that door there if you need it, and you can ring the bell when you want something to eat. I'm going to have to lock you in together."

Bruce's tongue felt like cotton in his mouth. He was looking past Warner to the boy and his brain was processing at about one quarter speed as he tried his damndest to figure out a way to save this boy from Warner's planned execution without jeopardizing his plan to take down the whole operation and save all the slaves.

Bruce's attention was jerked back to Warner when he felt the man taking his hand to press a couple condoms into his palm.

"Cat's got your tongue, I see," laughed Warner. "Well, we'll talk money for taking home your own after, hmm? Have fun."

The door closed and locked, and the boy howled, a desperate noise that stabbed into Bruce's overheated brain. "Quiet!" he said sternly, and the boy bit off his yelp, though his tail kept lashing.

"Then fuck me," the boy said, loud and petulant.

In hindsight, Bruce found it difficult to understand why he had let himself get so wrapped up in the matter of "how do I get Warner to let me take this boy away" that he entirely ignored the question of whether he should fuck an almost certainly underage sex slave.

No, in hindsight, it wasn't that he found it difficult to understand. It was that he found it difficult to reconcile with who he thought he was.

The boy just smelled and looked so good.

Still, Bruce didn't make a move yet, though his cock was already fully hard and straining his designer suit pants.

"At least take off this diaper, it's humiliating," said the boy.

That got Bruce moving, because yes, it must be extra humiliating to be put into a diaper because you were being restrained and unable to get to the bathroom. Taking the diaper off was a completely reasonable request, yes.

A reasonable request that put Bruce right there to see the boy's dripping wet folds and tiny excited penis as he pulled the diaper away and tossed it against the wall.

The boy's pheromones had smelled good, but his slick...

"C'mon, c'mon," the boy whined, and his tail hit against Bruce's thighs where he was kneeling on the bed.

Bruce looked up at the boy's neck and put a hand to the collar, and the boy stilled at the touch. Pleather, not real leather; cheap, with a tangible seam.

A little pink tongue darted out to moisten his lips, drawing Bruce's eyes up to the face that was half-covered with a blindfold. Bruce reached up to take it off and a pair of blue-green eyes with pupils that were at first larger than humanly possible, but which rapidly constricted under the overhead light into feline slits as the boy blinked and squinted.

"Oh," said the boy, "you're actually not bad looking."

It seemed so out of place that Bruce couldn't help a chuckle. "Thanks, I guess. What's your name?"

"My name? Why would you care? You're not going to buy me. You're just here to fuck me—and you're not even doing that!" The boy pulled on his hand restraints a bit but they wouldn't budge.

"I still want to know."

"If I tell you, will you fuck me? Give me... give me a knot?"

Bruce breathed in more of the boy's heat scent. "Yes."

The boy bit his lower lip a moment, then said, "Aw, hell, I guess it don't matter. Jason—my mom called me Jason." The lip trembled a little, then the boy said, loud, "Okay, that's it, alright?"

Bruce's hands went to his belt. "Okay, Jason. I'm Bruce."

That surprised Jason more than anything so far. He gawked at Bruce as the man continued taking his bottoms off. "You want me to call you... is that not your actual name, or something? Is this some title I don't know?"

"No, it's my real first name," said Bruce, but his cock was out and Jason had attention for nothing else.

"Oh my God, put that inside me now," he moaned.

And Bruce did. He settled heavily on top of the boy, his suit jacket and tie still on, and started fucking him without any attempt at foreplay. It didn't seem to bother Jason. On the contrary, Bruce had never had a sex partner, not even the golddiggers who were baldly attempting to make him think he was a sex god, who looked this blissed out just by having a cock inside them.

"Oh, yes, yes, daddy," moaned Jason, which made Bruce's hips stutter as he got an uncomfortable shock out of his heat haze into some partial understanding of how wrong this was.

"Bruce," he grunted.

"Bruce, whatever, right, sorry, just don't stop. Bruce, Bruce, you... hey, you have pretty blue eyes, you know."

Delightful absurdity again. This boy...! But then this boy clenched around him and added, "Hey, hey, why are you still stopped. C'mon, Bruce, I'm saying it, Bruce Bruce Bruce Bruce Bruce, oh God, Bruce!"

This last shout was because Bruce had started thrusting again, harder and faster than before. He had never had sex like this, not even with an omega, so... so animalistic, so purely pleasurable. He wanted to experience it again and again. He wanted to keep this omega with his smart aleck mouth and his tight little cunt and never let him go.

He wanted to claim.

As if approving of these thoughts, Jason came, keening and arching back his chin, revealing his throat, except that tacky collar was in the way.

Bruce never let anything stand in his way.

"Mmm, mmm, ahhh, ahh," moaned and sighed Jason as he came down from his high, "oh, slow down for a bit, please, I'm sensitive!"

"No," said Bruce, "I'm going to come too. I'm going to knot you and fill you with my seed until I breed you."

Jason looked turned on, but then suddenly his expression changed. "Wait. Just—that's just dirty talk, right? You're... you're wearing a condom... hold on, you need to pull out and put on a condom—"

"No," Bruce said, fucking the boy like a machine. God help him, the extra squirms and futile attempts to get away were making him feel powerful and in control. "Gonna breed you. Gonna keep you."

"Bruce, you can't," the boy begged, frantic, "they won't let me—you don't understand, I can't, I'm not allowed—no! No, no, no, don't!"

It was too late, and the boy knew it, for all that he kept screaming no no no and letting tears fall down his pretty cheeks as Bruce's knot swelled, caught, at the entrance of Jason's cunt and Bruce, his eyes closed, shuddered with pleasure as he came and came, spurting jet after jet up into Jason's insides.

"Can't—no, I can't—no, oh no, it feels so good, I'm gonna come again! No, no, I'm coming!"

Bruce groaned as he felt Jason's second orgasm milk his knot. He opened his eyes and saw the boy crying, but his focus was more on the offensive layer of pleather.

He put his hands to the collar again and Jason squeaked in panic as he took hold of it and, with a businesslike and powerful pull at the seam, broke it.

The pull had unfortunately pushed on Jason's throat as well, so for the moment he couldn't really speak, couldn't make any objection as Bruce pushed his mouth under his jaw, searched for a mating gland, and found it.

———

When Bruce finally drove back to his own home, it was a full day later, and there was a very quiet catboy with a noticeable bulge in his abdomen buckled into the back seat. Quiet, because there was a gag in his mouth, a blindfold over his eyes, and handcuffs and ankle cuffs on his limbs. Warner's usual "packing for shipment," apparently.

Bruce had agreed to pay fifty thousand dollars for Jason, with the understanding that Bruce wanted to buy even more catboys. That would give him the in to keep investigating, and he'd certainly proved to Warner now that he was...

One of them.

Bruce's hands gripped the steering wheel hard as he felt a sick plunge in his stomach.

How was he going to break this to Alfred? And Dick... when Dick found out, he would never forgive him. Nobody would, except Alfred—not that Alfred would be pleased, but Bruce knew Alfred's devotion was unconditional. Just thinking of it put a lump in his throat.

After Bruce bit him, Jason had stopped speaking, though he did moan and wail plenty as Bruce fucked him through the rest of his heat.

And cried. The boy had cried, a lot, and shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut whenever Bruce attempted to soothe and cajole him into sharing why.

Well, of course. The boy was desperate to escape his slavery, even Warner had recognized that. Now with a bonding mark on him the boy would never really be free. Even his previous abusers hadn't done that to him.

Warner told Bruce, conversationally, as advice for future reference, it was a bad idea to mark catboys. "Makes you too attached," he had said. "I know your instincts wanna do it when they're in heat, but then you start thinking you're in love and all that—seen it a hundred times. You'll find it harder to keep a firm hand, so they'll get into more trouble. Plus, when they die, you get depressed from the bond shock."

God, even the pedophile sex trafficker thought he had made a mistake.

Chapter Text

Bruce took Jason directly into the panic room. It wasn't that he was going to keep Jason prisoner (he told himself), but Jason just... had to stay somewhere safe for the time being.

He took off the blindfold and gag but left the other restraints on, just to have a conversation first.

Jason stared at him sullenly.

Bruce cleared his throat. "I, uh..."

He wasn't usually at a loss. But those accusing, slitted pupils were hard to look at.

Bruce cleared his throat again. "This may be difficult to believe, from my... behaviour with you, but I was not... I did not realize, when I went to Warner's house yesterday, that I would be offered... you. And I did not intend to..." He searched for a verb other than the obvious, but then decided that it would only be cowardly not to call it what it was. "...rape you. Force-claim you."

The blue-green eyes blinked, looked confused, then wary.

"I am... you could say that I was undercover, investigating Warner. I am trying to stop Warner's operation and free his slaves. I... it was never my intention to participate, at all, I find it morally reprehensible... what I did. I cannot apologize enough, and I want you to know that I won't touch you like that ever again."

Jason blinked again, then said crossly, "Is this some kind of fucked up roleplay? Look, if you want to pretend you're not a bad guy and act like you didn't love fucking me and can't wait to do it again, knock yourself out. It doesn't matter to me."

Bruce frowned. "I deserve your skepticism. I can't give you a timeline, but as soon as possible..." He'd been about to say that Jason would be able to come out of hiding and be free, but then he realized there was a major snag to that. Jason had his mark, anybody who smelled him now and knew Bruce's scent would be able to tell that this boy was claimed by him. And he would have no legal defence.

Jason was looking at him like he was an idiot. "Can I get the bracelets off at least?"

Bruce pulled out the key. "I want to warn you not to try to escape, yet. I understand why you want to escape, believe me, but unfortunately I need you to stay hidden until I finish taking down Warner."

"Yeah, right, whatever." Jason rubbed his wrists, first one, then the other, while Bruce knelt down to do his ankles. "No point it in anyway, old man. Bond mark's as good as a tracking device, ain't it?"

"How old are you?" Bruce asked, dodging the bond mark topic.

"What day is it?"

"September fifth."

"Hm. Guess I'm eighteen then..."

Bruce was skeptical. He knew what Warner had said about catboys staying "young and cute", but Jason looked so young. "When's your birthday?"

"August 16th."

"What year?"

The boy squinted. "Uh... nineteen ninety... something? I dunno, you do the math."

"You don't know your birth year?"

"Well, the last birthday I had with my mom I was fourteen," Jason said, counting that as one on his fingers, "then I had my first heat and I got sold to Warner, he shopped me around, finally got sold, I was with that guy a year, so I was fifteen or sixteen, then I escaped and managed to stay on the run for a while but Warner found me eventually, so I was seventeen I think, and he tried to keep me himself but I kept escaping, so he sold me to a guy he thought could handle me, but I nearly managed to escape while he was having a party which would have been awesome, outing him as a perv in front of all those people. I was so fucking close." Jason blew out a breath. "Anyway. So if it's September I must be eighteen now."

For a moment Bruce was relieved, but then it struck him how absurd that was. Even if Jason might technically be an adult, Bruce hadn't let believing him to be fourteen or fifteen at the most stop him from raping him. Bruce forced himself to focus on another potential lead. "Who sold you to Warner?"

"My mom's master. I wasn't supposed to know his name but of course I know it. Willis Todd. My mom wasn't actually my real mom, my real mom was another catgirl that belonged to him before, but Todd got tired of her and traded her for my mom when I was, like, a toddler. Todd used to always say I was just like her, he didn't mean it as a compliment either. I guess she was mouthy."

"Willis Todd," Bruce said, making a mental note to investigate. "Is he your father?"

Jason laughed at him, then said, "Oh, you're serious. My kind don't have fathers. Not in any way that matters."

That was probably true, Bruce thought, especially since the man had sold him into sex slavery. "Well, I want you to know that won't be the case with us. I'll take responsibility."

Jason went back to confused and wary. "Responsibility for what?"

"The child."

Jason's arms crossed over his abdomen protectively. "You mean, if you even let it be born."

"Let it be born? Of course I'm going to let it be born."

"Yeah right. You'll kill it the second you find out it's not a cat," Jason said bitterly, hugging himself. "Four times and not a single one was a cat, so why would this one be one?"

"Whether it has cat features or not, it'll be human and my child," Bruce said. "I will never force you to have an abortion."

Jason breathed in and out sharply. "If you mean that... No, whatever. Listen, I'll pretend whatever you want, if you let me keep it, okay? But if you're lying to me..." He trailed off, and clenched his jaw hard, screwing up his face like he was trying to come up with a believable threat. "You'll just regret it, alright?"

"You don't have to pretend anything." Bruce stood up, and Jason flinched back, then tried to play it off like he just wanted to look at something on the mostly blank wall to the right. "Are you hungry? Make yourself at home, here. I will need to introduce you to my... friend, Alfred. He'll be around when I'm not, and—"

"God," grumbled Jason. "Fine. How many more friends am I gonna have to fuck?"

"What? No," said Bruce. "Alfred will help you with things like... if you need food. Nothing... else. I told you, nobody is going to rape you again."

Jason squinted at him. "You're a weird alpha. I don't get you at all."

On this depressing note, Bruce left to find Alfred.

———

Alfred was listening to NPR, sitting at the kitchen table with a teapot and a small plate with only crumbs on it, and making some kind of notes on a diagram. "Ah, good afternoon, Master Bruce. Would you care for some tea, sir?"

"No, thank you." Bruce stood next to the fridge, trying to think of how to say the unspeakable.

Alfred got up, went to the china cabinet, got another tea cup, came back to the table and poured it full of tea. "You're troubled, my boy. Come have tea."

Called out already.

Bruce sat at the indicated spot and watched Alfred add just a touch of milk to the earl grey, exactly how Bruce liked it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir."

Silence. A comfortable silence, which was actually more of a problem. It made it harder to break.

Alfred refilled his tea. Bruce sipped his, set the cup back down, and said, "I've been investigating a sex trafficking operation. A man named Colin Warner who is buying and selling cat hybrids, and has connections to other slavers. Every kind of depravity you can name."

Alfred frowned. "Indeed, sir. I had noticed you had that kind of weight on you for some time that only comes when you are investigating particularly loathsome crimes."

"It is loathsome," Bruce agreed, looking at the surface of the tea. "I... I've done something truly loathsome, Alfred, as part of keeping my cover. A line I never should have crossed."

After a moment, Alfred prompted, "Go on," his tone neutral.

Bruce kept looking at the tea. "Warner surprised me with a slave that was in heat, offering him to me as a kind of test drive. He told me that he planned to kill the boy afterwards so it didn't matter much what happened to him. In the moment... I only thought of how to take him away from Warner without breaking my cover. I didn't even consider not raping him, and I not only raped him, I claimed him... Alfred, is this who I really am?"

Alfred tsked, and the sound was so commonplace that Bruce jerked his face up. "Master Bruce, really. Do you not see that your existential crisis should be the least of your concerns right now? Where is the boy?"

"He's in the panic room."

"Have you had him examined by a doctor? When did he last eat and drink? Have you asked about his family?"

"Not the doctor. I partly came here to see about getting him food. I did ask about his family, he was born into slavery and it was his father who sold him on. I have a lead there."

"Hang your leads," Alfred said, exasperated, "you have a child bride, Master Bruce. He should be your first, and if needs be, only priority. My goodness, I knew you could be selfish, but to be brooding at a time like this...!" Alfred stood up and moved to the fridge. "You get back to him immediately, sir. I will make him up a tray. Find out what the boy needs. Clothes, books, toys... does he even know how to read? I will call Dr. Thompson and arrange a home visit appointment as soon as may be. Go, now." As Alfred bent into the fridge, Bruce could still hear him mutter, "'Is this who I really am,' indeed. My goodness."

This was not the reaction Bruce had expected, yet in its own way it was fully as chastising as the worse of Bruce's imaginations. Alfred was deeply disappointed in him, that was obvious. But further than that, Alfred was disappointed in him for not only his action yesterday that bound Jason to him, but perhaps even more for not putting Jason's needs first today.

And Alfred was right. Jason's needs did need to come first.

Bruce gulped his tea and went back to the panic room.

Chapter Text

It wouldn't be accurate to say that Bruce had a conscious preconception of what it would be like to be responsible for a former sex slave, but Jason's behaviour took Bruce continually by surprise.

Someone who cowered from him, who cried and trembled, so that Bruce would feel his guilt and atone for it; someone who was pathetically grateful for scraps of food or basic clothes and had to be coaxed to share his needs...

Jason was... not like that.

Jason liked to destroy things.

When he was alone, or when Bruce was with him, it didn't matter. He smashed any cup or plate he was given as soon as he was done with it, scraped lines and shapes into the walls with cutlery, tore open duvets or feather pillows and tossed them around, ripped pages out of books, smashed electronic devices.

Jason would look directly at Bruce, knock something over, and then look back at Bruce again, daring the alpha with his eyes.

Bruce had been... perhaps not a father figure to Dick, since Dick hadn't wanted a replacement father, but some combination of father, uncle, and teacher.

But to behave as any combination of father, uncle, or teacher, to the person with his bite mark, carrying his pup... it could only make a bad thing worse, couldn't it?

But it left Bruce totally lost at how to react to Jason's destructive behaviour. He ended up simply saying nothing and leaving his face blank. Fortunately he was very, very good at that.

Bruce's non-reactions seemed to puzzle Jason. Often he seemed disappointed or irritated when Bruce would look at a floor covered with the smashed remnants of a chair and silently go to work cleaning it up. Once Jason tried throwing something at Bruce's back, but Bruce's reflexes kicked in and he turned and caught it. Jason, spooked, ran and hid in the closet. Bruce still hadn't done anything, hadn't even said anything.

Alfred on the other hand had no doubts about how to act. Alfred brought milk and freshly baked cookies, art materials, books, and other treats whenever he visited, setting himself up for favour early on. Jason figured out very quickly that Alfred would look grave and disappointed at acts of destruction, and would leave if anything ever seemed close to causing Alfred personal harm.

Bruce knew from his own experience how hard "dear me, what a waste" could hit. And for all Jason's bluster, the kid had to be lonely.

Alfred had another lure to offer Jason for good behaviour: his tutelage.

Jason had a limited ability to read and write. He had never been to school and his mother had no skills to pass on of that kind, but he had watched lots and lots of educational television, as his original owner had often locked him up with basic food and a television set to kids' tv for hours or even days when the alpha was "using" his mother.

Alfred told Bruce that Master Jason was very bright, eager to learn, and loved reading immediately.

He also said that Bruce needed to spend more time with Jason.

Bruce did visit daily, but it was more time spent sitting on the couch watching Jason, rather than with Jason. He never stayed long, and Jason never asked him to stay. To Alfred, Bruce made excuses about needing to work to break up the ring so that Jason could come out of hiding, and he did work feverishly on the case.

Dr. Thompson's information on Jason's condition motivated him further. Jason had been what the industry apparently called "defanged." Feline-human hybrids had more, narrower teeth than unmodified humans, including sharper incisors and prominent upper and lower canines—which meant they could give nasty bites. Not wishing for their slaves to be able to defend themselves, Jason's canines had been pulled out entirely and his incisors had been "shaved down" a little to make them blunter. His fingernails had also been cut to the quick, but at least those would grow back.

Jason had evidence of damage all over—broken and fractured bones, some not properly set, and scars from all kinds of implements.

Mercifully, the doctor didn't ask who had left the claim mark on Jason's neck, and Jason said nothing about it either. Jason talked quite a lot, but only about his pregnancy and the pup's health. Jason smelled only like Bruce, but it was clear that it hadn't occured to Dr. Thompson to even imagine that Bruce could be the sire. 

After examining Jason and prescribing vitamins, Dr. Thompson talked to Bruce privately.

"We shouldn't remove the bond mark until after he gives birth," she said. "It's a pity he's so attached, because I'd like to remove the risk for you of the alpha tracking him down through the bond, but he'll miscarry without it."

"I'll make sure the alpha never hurts him again," Bruce said, meaning it.

Bruce asked Jason if he would like to get dental work to replace his fangs with implants.

Jason stared at him, same as he often did. "But I'll bite you."

Not even that he might do it. A certainty.

"I've been bitten before," Bruce said, truthful but dodging the actual point.

"You are the weirdest alpha ever."

Well, at least he had moved up in Jason's estimation.

———

Warner sent Bruce Jason's "papers", like he really was just a pedigreed cat. Degrading as it was, though, it provided a lot of great evidence for leads, both for the slaving ring in general and for helping Jason in particular.

As Jason had said, his first owner, and sire, was named Willis Todd. Bruce was guiltily relieved to discover the man had died a few years back, courtesy of Two-Face.

Maybe I can send Harvey some two-toned flowers, Bruce thought.

The papers gave Jason's birth date, and to Bruce's dismay, he was not eighteen, as Jason had guessed, but only just sixteen. It must have been that Jason's life was so difficult that it felt like more years had passed for him than actually had. Or maybe the papers faked him as being younger than he was, to make him more valuable? Jason had been positive that Todd was still alive when he was sold the first time and that he was fourteen at that time, but Todd had died three years ago, so the math didn't add up.

The papers didn't include any information about the omega who had raised Jason, but they named Jason's dam as "Sheila," plus a numerical code, with a demeaning amount of information about her appearance, sexual utility, and temperament, all evaluated by how good or bad it made her as property.

As for Jason himself, Warner said that the "flags" on his file—for his insubordination, recurrent escape attempts, and general violent attitude—would make him "difficult to impossible to resell" but that if Bruce managed to hold onto him for two years, he could appeal to demonstrate that the flags no longer applied. "And at that point, if you did manage to break him, you could more than make your money back. If he births any kittens in the meantime, you could practically name your price. Start at triple what you paid me; I gave him to you for a song, because I like you, you know."

Bruce had wanted to wash his ears after hearing that.

———

Bruce provided a wide selection of nesting materials, like he had for Dick, but Jason wouldn't make any kind of nest properly. Instead he changed where he slept from day to day, hiding in a new spot. He was good at it, too, small and flexible enough to wiggle himself into little spaces.

Bruce kept visiting every day, but every day, he wondered why he was doing it, other than to stop Alfred making passive-aggressive looks. Jason didn't want him around, clearly. Nor should he.

So when a Justice League mission took him, at no notice, out of the country for a few weeks, the only thing he thought Jason would feel was relief.

Bruce didn't expect how much he missed Jason. He hadn't thought that they'd spent enough time together for Bruce to miss him, especially since they barely talked, much less touched. Maybe it was the bond, maybe it was all bestial instinct. And yet he missed such specific things.

Bruce missed the snuffly noises Jason would make as he slept. He missed creeping as quietly as possible towards the noises and peering into the top of a closet to see one little cheek, squished against a rolled up sock. He missed Jason's smell. He missed the clacky little noise Jason would do with his regrowing nails when he was reading or watching television. He missed the boy's habit of toe-walking. He missed watching Jason's pupils go from little slits to full moons when something caught his attention. 

When he came back, despite being bone tired and jetlagged, he went to go see Jason, because he missed him. Just briefly, even if the boy was sleeping.

Jason was sleeping, curled up on the couch in Bruce's usual spot, surrounded by what looked like a mix of Bruce's clothes and bedding. Odd; Bruce had never seen him so out in the open.

The boy's nose twitched as Bruce walked up, and then suddenly Jason jerked upright, still clutching a wadded up velvet suit jacket.

The feline eyes fixed on Bruce, widened with recognition, and suddenly the omega was clutching onto him, the jacket fallen at their feet.

"I'm sorry," Jason cried, "I'm sorry, don't leave me alone anymore, I'll be good. I can be good, I promise. I never wanted to be bad. I really didn't."

Bruce hadn't known how to react to Jason's bad behaviour, but at least a non-reaction was an option there. This, on the other hand...

Bruce put his arms around Jason and looked down to say, "It's alright, chum," like he would have done for Dick, but before he could get the words out, Jason was tilting his face up and going up on tiptoe to kiss him.

Bruce let himself be kissed, and then he kissed Jason back. Jason fumbled at the button of Bruce's pants, and Bruce broke the kiss to say, "You don't have to—"

"Please. Please. I want to," Jason whined, his sharp nails poking him as they got the button undone. "I need to, I need to smell—"

Well, you can't reject him, one part of Bruce said, and he couldn't come up with a counter-argument, especially when there was another part of Bruce that very much liked what was happening, and that part was being gently cradled by Jason's hands as the omega knelt before him and pressed his face to the side of his cock, inhaling deeply and noisily.

"Bruce, Bruce, Bruce," Jason moaned into his balls, "Please don't go away again. I'm so sorry, I'm really sorry! I know I was bad but I wanted you to fuck me the whole time, I really did, I know I'm bad, but I never thought you wouldn't fuck me, I never thought you'd leave me, but I can change, I won't be bad anymore, I'm so sorry—"

"Wait, hold on," Bruce said, with difficulty because Jason was jerking him off as he babbled. What Bruce wanted was a moment to straighten out his brain enough to tell Jason that he didn't leave because Jason was bad, not at all; but Jason interpreted it differently.

"No, please, please," he said frantically, his tail swishing. "You've got to fuck me now, Bruce, please, I know I was bad but please!"

Jason let go of Bruce, turned, yanked down his shorts and presented to the alpha, leaning on the couch, his tail trembling as he held it out of the way to display himself.

His cock was already out and it took only a second for him to get it inside Jason again. Just like before, as soon as he was inside Jason, morality evaporated. Bruce's thrust fell into the same rhythm as Jason's chanting of his name, and as he looked down, all he could think was how cute Jason was, how little and how tight. His perfect omega, carrying his child. How had he ever resisted having him?

"You wanted me to fuck you all this time, huh?" Bruce grunted, tightening his grip on the boy's hips. "Should I fuck you every day from now on?"

"Oh, yes, oh please, please Bruce, I'll—unh, I'll be soooo good, promise!"

"You are good. So good around my cock Jason. You'll be good, as long I keep you on my cock, won't you?"

Jason's butt tried to wiggle, but Bruce's grip was too strong. "Mmm, yeah! Promise! Promise, Bruce, fuck me more!"

Bruce thrust harder, and Jason wailed. It echoed against the walls of the panic room and made Bruce grimace, but he fucked the catboy through his orgasm anyway, chasing his own. His knot started to catch, but it had been so long for Bruce that he kept fucking the boy's cunt hard anyway, forcing it in and out, ignoring the boy's shrieks. Finally there came a point where being outside the boy's body stung, and Bruce hurriedly shoved himself in one more time, gritting his teeth and forcing a finger into Jason's cunt to help stretch it open enough to get the knot back in.

"That's it—don't take it out anymore, please, please Bruce," Jason said, barely understandable because he was out of breath and half-muffled by a sofa cushion.

Bruce yanked his finger out, shiny with slick, and sucked on it as he came.

———

Afterwards Bruce sat on the couch with Jason in his lap, like some perverted parody of Santa Claus, his knot still firmly stuck between the puffy lips of the boy's cunt.

Jason leaned back against Bruce and purred, clutching at Bruce's arm as if he thought that even now Bruce might leave.

"I was—I was good for Alfred. Not... not all the time, but I tried. Did he tell you I was good? Good enough for you to come back?"

Bruce had to stop nuzzling Jason's hair and ears to answer. "I didn't hear anything from Alfred, but don't worry, Jason. I won't leave again without telling you first. I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't realize... I've never had a mate before, and... how we... how I marked you was..."

"I know," Jason said mournfully, "but I can be good now... and... and I'll make it up to you, and..."

Bruce rubbed the swell of Jason's stomach and said, "There's nothing to make up for, Jason. I got us started wrong, but I'll take care of you from now on. Both of you."

Jason's scent bloomed with sweet happiness, and Bruce let it wash away the guilt.

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.

Chapter Text

Bruce set the Batmobile to auto and leaned back with only one hand resting on the wheel, very unusual for him.

This entire operation was full of surprises, wasn't it.

He hadn't thought that exposing Lee—Jason's previous captor who had returned him to Warner after Jason nearly escaped—would be difficult. Bruce thought he had measured the man to a tee, but he had miscalculated entirely. Yes, the man was obsessed with his public image; Bruce had believed he could use that to make the man squeal in an attempt to get some of his public reputation back. But instead, the man had set off a booby trap that gave himself a shotgun blast directly to the back of the head. Apparently, if Lee's image wasn't going to be perfect anymore, he didn't want to be around to watch it all fall apart.

Bruce should have anticipated it as a possibility. Why hadn't he? That was what was grating at him.

On the positive side, Lee hadn't bothered to do anything to destroy any evidence, either against himself or implicating others; and from a vantage point in a nearby roof, Batman was able to see officers leading a catboy with a blanket around his shoulders to an ambulance. There would be no more victims here.

His comms crackled. "Hey B, it's Nightwing. If you get this, call me."

"Batman here."

"Heyyyy, now you answer me, huh? I thought maybe the cat had your tongue, with how silent you've been lately."

Cat indeed. "So it's hit the police scanners in Bludhaven as well?"

"What has? I'm talking about the little stray I found in your panic room."

It was a good thing the vehicle was already on auto. "Why were you in my panic room?" Bruce growled, channeling any panic that might have infected his voice into aggression instead.

"Oh, that's rich. Mr. The Manor Is Always Open to You. Why didn't you revoke my access if that was all just talk?"

"Because I trusted you to only come in if you needed help, not to snoop."

"I didn't snoop. I did come because I needed help. I got caught up in something, so I need a place to lie low outside of Bludhaven a few days. When I came into the cave, the monitors said the panic room was occupied. I went in because I thought you were in there. But if this snooping has ruined your trust in me, I can find somewhere else to go."

Great. Just great. Bruce sighed. "I do trust you. My case has me a little on edge."

"Not on edge enough to apologize, so you're still basically the same."

Bruce chose to ignore that bait. If they got into another shouting match over the comms, then who knew how long it would be before Dick reached out again. "The person in the panic room is related to my current case. You may hear on the news shortly that a Ken Lee in Connecticut has been found dead by self-inflicted shotgun blast and that when authorities responded to reports of the shot, they found that Lee was keeping a cat hybrid as a sex slave in an underground room."

A whistle. "Ugh. Was this Lee responsible for what I saw?"

The pregnancy. Evasively, Bruce said, "My guest had several captors in his past. Lee was only one."

"Oh, poor thing. No wonder he was so terrified of me." Dick's voice had lost the aggressive posturing he usually took when talking to Bruce these days. It was almost like the sweet tenor of the little Robin he had once been. "Even when I showed him I was an omega too he barely calmed down."

"He gets on well with Alfred."

"Well, who wouldn't get on well with Alfred? Especially if he's just baked cookies. Hey, I better ask Al if he'll bake me some of his toffee biscuits while I'm here... that is, if I'm allowed to stay."

"The manor is always open to you."

"Good. See you when I see you, Batman."

The comm line switched off. Bruce pushed on his temple through the cowl, then told the car to dispense two tablets of 500mg acetaminophen with 8mg codeine.

Painkillers down, he was forced to try to think again about how he was going to bring Jason into any semblance of a public life.

It had taken him a good week after bringing Jason home the first time to come up with a plan that would keep Bruce Wayne, Batman, Jason, and the eventual child all safe. Jason would give birth; Bruce would bankroll the Mohs surgery to remove the bond mark; Jason would leave and Bruce would provide full financial support for Jason to live independently, as well as making sure the child received a trust fund to cover all their schooling. He wouldn't have been the first person escaping abuse or violence for whom Bruce Wayne, philanthropist, became a no-strings-attached patron. In addition to his foundation's halfway houses, there were probably a dozen or so that he was supporting individually. So nobody would suspect that Jason was any different.

Using philanthropy as a cover to get away with depravity was common in the richer villains he faced, but Bruce had nonetheless assured himself that this was the best possible outcome for everyone.

But when he'd come back, Jason's reactions made it clear this would never work. Without even being in heat, he'd made Bruce surrender entirely to his instincts, and it had been wonderful. Entering the panic room became like entering his own little world where he was free from the expectations of both Mr. Bruce Wayne and Batman. All he had to do was be Jason's alpha, and Jason glowed from the attention. The omega's violent and destructive habits vanished overnight once Bruce was properly scenting and sleeping with his omega.

Jason needed him. Not Batman or Mr. Wayne. Him.

There was no way that Bruce was going to suggest that Jason ever leave him.

Maybe... maybe the plan could still work, though.

Yes.

He would have to explain to Jason that he would have to endure getting the mark removed, pretend to be "found" by Batman, and go, with the baby, into one of the Wayne halfway houses. And then...

A smile actually spread across his face.

A ball. He could throw a charity ball for the Wayne Foundation, and include the halfway house occupants as guests.

And then from across a crowded dance floor, Brucie Wayne would spot the sweetest, sassiest omega on earth.

A Cinderella story.

Forget that the press would love it; Jason would love it. Bruce had perused the boy's Netflix habits and found that he was addicted to period romance.

Bruce would court Jason, properly; mate him, and adopt the baby.

Nobody would have to know the baby was his child by blood, too.

Perfect...

Except that Dick now knew about Jason.

Dick would have to get a slightly different version of the lie, he could tell Dick that he had fallen in love with Jason while Jason lived in the panic room... a similar lie for Dr. Thompson... Dr. Thompson would be surprised but probably pleased, her generation wouldn't be as shocked at the age gap and would be more likely to see Bruce as a rescue figure rather than an opportunistic creep, but Dick... Bruce honestly wasn't sure how Dick would react.

He wouldn't have to lie to Alfred, at least. He was pretty sure that Alfred would approve entirely of the plan, which would be a rare pleasure; Alfred usually had a certain amount of politely restrained contempt for Bruce's vigilante passions.

It would be complicated, but it would be doable.

That is, if there weren't any more surprises.

———

Bruce went in to see Jason first, stopping only to change out of his costume.

As he expected, Jason was hiding—under the bed, this time. Bruce crouched down. "Everything's safe, Jason. You can come out, it's only me."

Jason came out, but he looked nervous and wary. He was clutching a pillow and he held onto it as he sat on the very edge of the bed. "Um... welcome back?"

Bruce stood back up, and Jason froze as Bruce approached, but relaxed slightly after being scented, enough for Bruce to gather him into his lap. "I think a friend of mine came by, and scared you, though he didn't mean to."

"Yeah," Jason burst out, "how do you—?"

Bruce waited, but Jason didn't say anything more, nervously fidgeting one sharp clawlike nail against another and hunching a little like he thought he might be in trouble, which of course he wasn't. "How do I know Nightwing? That's... something of a long story. Can I talk to you about something else first?"

"Uh, yeah. Of course," said Jason, but the tone was a little flat, perhaps just a hint of suppressed annoyance. It actually made Bruce smile; his little cat thought he was being given the run-around permanently. Hopefully soon he would have enough confidence and trust to communicate that directly.

"I've been thinking of how to make it so you can be out in the world, after you give birth." Jason looked dismayed, so Bruce hastened to reassure him: "Under my protection always, of course. But because I am a public figure, when it becomes known that I have taken a mate, it will be... talked about. It can't become known that I force bonded you when you were still enslaved. Although I feel confident that I could evade legal penalties, the social consequences, and the consequences to my businesses, would be severe. Which would mean you and our child would likewise suffer."

"I don't mind staying in the cattery," said Jason, then added cautiously, "Although, if I could go outside sometimes...?"

"Staying in the what?" Bruce said, setting the request aside for a moment.

"Here." Jason gestured. "The cattery."

"Cattery... your previous owners called wherever you were held the cattery?"

"Yeah, of course. You gotta have a cattery to own a cat; they won't sell to anybody who doesn't have a secure one. Letting a cat escape is bad for the cat when they get caught, but it's actually bad for the owner too; they can get blacklisted from buying, right? Or worse. The guy I escaped from the first time, I heard he got two in the back of the head for being too careless about how he looked for me. He was getting cops sniffing a scandal, so." Jason narrowed his eyes at Bruce. "But this is stuff you already... is this an act? Oh. Oh, oh yeah." Jason swallowed, inexplicably nervous again. "Right. Yeah, of course, you don't know what a cattery is, right."

"Well, I had heard the term mentioned, but I don't think I fully grasped what it meant to you. This place wasn't built to be a cattery, Jason, it was made to be a panic room, a place to securely hide in times of danger. That was why my friend Nightwing came by, he was here looking for a place to hide." And it wasn't even a lie, even if it was twisting the truth.

"Oh! Oh no. Is he okay? Did he find somewhere else?!"

"He's perfectly alright, he found somewhere else."

Jason relaxed, then said, "Um, if the other place isn't good, he can come and stay here with me, he can have the bed, y'know, I'm really fine sleeping anywhere."

Bruce chuckled and ruffled Jason's hair, rubbing along one ear. The catboy flushed, but he twisted his head into the caress instead of pulling away from it, and curled right up against him, purring again. Such a charming sound. Jason snuggled into his chest, then looked up at him with those charming sea-green eyes.

"If Nightwing took the bed," Bruce said, "then would you sleep well without me? I don't think I can fit in the closet."

Jason jerked upright, then looked around the panic room as if seeking a third option, screwing up his mouth.

Bruce laughed. Amazing how Jason could make him laugh. "I'm just teasing you. Nightwing can use another place in my house. And I'll be in your bed with you tonight, if you want me."

"Duh—I mean, thanks." Jason flushed, and Bruce chuckled again.

"But back to what I was trying to tell you earlier, before I got distracted by the term cattery. You asked if you could go outside sometimes—"

"Only if it's okay," Jason interrupted, then rushed on, "sorry for interrupting!"

"Jason. It is okay. Human beings—and you are a human being—are not meant to be kept isolated indoors for so long. Even prisoners get windows and outdoor time. And I don't want you as my prisoner—I want you to be free, I've always wanted that, even before—it's just that now I want you free as my mate."

Jason stared at him a moment, not looking pleased or reassured like Bruce had expected, but rather confused.

Bruce tried again. "What I'm trying to tell you is that I have a plan so that eventually you will be able to have a legal identity, a public identity, and live with me, in my house, as my mate, with our child. It will take some time—" Bruce explained the basics of the plan while Jason stared at him with frowning concentration.

When Bruce explained that Jason would need to have the mating mark surgically removed and go live without Bruce but with their child at a shelter, Jason's face and body language was still confused, bordering on anxious.

"It wouldn't have to be for long," Bruce assured him. "I would arrange for us to 'meet' as soon as possible. You would have to pretend we'd never met before, that would be the only thing. And once we 'met', I would offer to mate you and you could come and live with me. See, to the public, it would look like I was rescuing you, that way."

Jason had kept staring uncomprehending until that last sentence; understanding suddenly dawned. "Oh. Sure, right! Exactly, 'cuz, uh... you are my rescuer." Jason gave him a big, heart-melting smile, even cuter because there was still tension in his eyes and shoulders.

Bruce rubbed Jason's back and gathered him in, and was rewarded with the tension easing away and the omega purring again.

There would be so much more to share with Jason, but it would be a bad idea to dump too much information on him at once. Even telling Jason a very basic version of his plan like this had made the catboy this high-strung. The truth about Batman, certainly, would have to wait. But there were months ahead for talking. And in the meantime, even though it had only been a few days, he had missed his boy.

Jason's skin was soft against his callused fingertips as Bruce slipped his hand beneath Jason's shirt to run his thumb over a hipbone. There was a little hitch in his purr, and Bruce grinned as he moved his hand up Jason's back.

Now that Jason had been away from his previous captors for so many months, his body hair had finally grown back in fully. Apparently it was "standard industry practice" to regularly wax their entire bodies except their eyebrows, hair, ears, and tail. Unaware of this, Bruce had been surprised by how much body hair Jason truly had.

It was much thicker and denser than one might expect for the youthfulness of his build, but it wasn't coarse or wiry like his own body hair. The hair on Jason's chest, arms, legs, and even underarms and pubic hair was white, like the tuft in his hair; only the hair on his back was black, running up along his spine from his tail like some kind of reverse treasure trail.

Jason had muttered that he was "the weirdest alpha" (when he thought Bruce wasn't listening) after Bruce told him that it was up to Jason what to do about his own body hair, but if Jason wanted to know Bruce's preference, it was to leave the hair on. To a certain extent that had surprised Bruce too; he'd had a preference against body hair in previous partners, but the body hair made Jason look unmistakably post-pubescent. Having Jason keep the hair was like proof of Bruce being fundamentally different to Warner—a small relief from the continual burden of his guilt.

It wasn't just that, though. It was very pleasant to touch, in the same way that petting an actual cat was enjoyable and soothing.

His fingers skimmed along Jason's spine and the catboy arched against him.

"Bruce," he keened, and lifted himself up slightly, clinging to Bruce's shoulders. "Take me—please take me right here, please."

"Right here, huh?" chuckled Bruce, hooking into the waistband of Jason's pants. "Missed me that much?"

"Uh-huh." His round little bottom wiggled against the fabric on Bruce's thigh as he hastened to pull the pants and underwear off the rest of the way.

Bruce took hold of him firmly and positioned him on the couch into the classic presenting posture with his hands bracing against the arm, then watched Jason's tail swish back and forth as he freed his erection.

He fucked his omega smoothly, not making him beg for more but not going too hard either. Jason did whine a little when Bruce kept his knot outside, and Bruce kissed the back of his neck as apology.

"I have things to do," he murmured, squeezing his knot. "Believe me, I'd rather stay, but I've spent longer than I intended already."

"You'll still come back tonight?"

"Mm." Bruce grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiped himself off.

———

Bruce took a shower in the cave to wash off the smell of sex, and when he was finishing up, Dick came down.

"Evening, B," he said, dressed casually in lounge pants and munching on a biscuit while Bruce hung up his towel. "You dawdling or something? Alfred asked me to come check on you. He's got dinner going."

"Things didn't go according to plan earlier."

Dick mock-grabbed his chest. "Perish the thought! No wonder you needed brooding time."

Bruce grunted, pulling clean briefs on. There had been a period, when Dick had just presented, where Bruce had attempted to impose "modesty" rules in the cave, but that had gone out the window the first time they had collapsed under the showers together after a bad run in with Scarecrow. Whatever society might say about how omegas and alphas who weren't mated should behave, between Bruce and Dick there was a silent, mutual agreement that none of those strictures applied within the cave. Their bodies were simply their best tools.

"I didn't eat all the biscuits, so I'm being a great houseguest."

"You're not a guest."

Dick leaned against a doorway. "I don't live here anymore, Bruce. My home's in Bludhaven."

Bruce gave Dick a look, succinctly conveying you're looking for a fight?

Dick half-smiled. "Don't look like that. Family can be guests, too, you know. We can still be like that, Bruce, I'm not the one who—" He cut himself off. "Anyway. Alfred's looking great. Did he finally let you hire him some help?"

"Some. Not live-in. You may have noticed we closed off part of the manor; that helps also."

"Yeah, I noticed. Speaking of empty rooms, Alfie was hinting pretty strongly that he'd like that to change... he got his eye on somebody for you?"

Bruce kept his countenance as he finished dressing. "Doesn't he always?"

"Well, I thought he gave up on Selina before even you did," Dick said, walking along with him. "Is there someone new?"

Bruce considered. Suppose he had truly rescued Jason, instead of the sordid reality, and he was just starting to feel something for him. What would he say to Dick? His guarded nature at least made this long silence natural. "There is someone. But nothing may come of it."

"Well, yeah, welcome to romance, late bloomer," Dick teased. "C'mon, you gotta tell me more than that."

"I'm unable to speak about them."

Dick blew a raspberry. "Oh come on. At least a little hint. Are they human? Is that why you can't talk? Men in black gonna jump out of the closet and wipe my brain if I know they exist?"

Bruce huffed. "You already know aliens exist."

"Exactly, so we're safe. C'mon, tell me. A hint! What's the catch here, I'm dying. Somebody inappropriate?"

Bruce let himself meet Dick's eyes. His former sidekick was teasing, but Bruce answered seriously: "There's nothing wrong with them, but you could say that I'm inappropriate."

Dick blinked, then whistled. "Ah, I'll be damned. Bat-guilt strikes again, huh? You're going to pine away in silence because some pure innocent soul can't be tainted with the dark secrets of The Bat."

Pure innocent soul was such an unlikely description of Jason that Bruce had to fight back a snort. "Not exactly."

"I got the impression that Alfred likes them."

"I said there's nothing wrong with them."

"Geez. There's no chatting with you," Dick complained, stretching his arms behind his head. "You know Alfred must have laid on the hints so that I'd needle you about it, right? So it must be somebody he really likes. Just think about it, you big repressed pillar."

Bruce let himself smile a little. Did Alfred think Bruce needed to be convinced to keep Jason? Bruce would have to make it clear that wasn't the case.

———

Alfred had his own things to make clear.

"Welcome home, sir," he said when Bruce and Dick walked into the dining room, where the table was set for three.

"Thank you, Alfred. I wasn't expecting anyone..."

"I think, sir, that given what the news radio said about the death of Ken Lee, that the risk to our special guest is now low enough that he can join us at the table."

Bruce paused with his hand on the back of a chair. "Oh. Well, I haven't dealt with all of them yet..."

"If they invade the dining room I'll tag team with ya, B," Dick said, sitting down and reaching for a pitcher to fill his water glass. "Like old times."

Alfred looked prim and mild and as impossible to dissuade as death itself.

Bruce sighed. "Alright, I'll go ask him."

"I will ask him, sir," said Alfred.

Dick laughed as Alfred left the room. "If I didn't know better I'd say Alf doesn't trust you."

Bruce grunted and poured his own water.

Jason looked cowed and skittish as he shuffled into the dining room with Alfred's soothing hand on his shoulder, and when he saw the enormous antique chandelier, his eyes did that full moon thing again with the pupils.

"This place is Downton Abbey!" Jason blurted.

Bruce laughed, and then realized that Dick was looking at him rather than Jason in surprise. He found himself reddening a little as Alfred said, "You are not far off, Master Jason. Indeed, Master Bruce's father was greatly inspired by Highclere Castle, the place where Downton Abbey was filmed."

Alfred gave Bruce a look, and Bruce belatedly jumped up to help Jason into a chair like a gentleman, aware all the time of Dick's interested gaze.

"Uh," said Jason, looking at the table settings in some dismay, "uh, just so you know, I don't—table manners, I mean, I've watched on TV, but, uh—"

"Don't worry, Master Jason. Master Richard has been taught and his are abhorrent." Alfred walked off towards the kitchen.

"Hey," protested Dick, but Alfred ignored him. "Sheesh. But nah, you don't have to worry, Jason—is it alright if I call you Jason? It'll be hard to believe, I know, but everyone calls me Dick. Even Bruce calls me Dick."

Jason was staring at Dick with much more disbelief than seemed called for even by a nickname as inappropriate as Dick, but then Jason transferred that shellshocked expression to Bruce, and then back to Dick again, and then he looked down at his own lap, looking frustrated and upset with his lip between his teeth.

"Bruce isn't my alpha, if that's what you're worried about," Dick said, and Jason's face went red and ducked even more. Dick looked at Bruce, and despite Bruce being sure that his face was impassive, Dick seemed to see something there anyway, because his expression got insufferably smug as he drawled, "Bruce is totally available."

Good God. What had Alfred been telling Dick that enabled Dick to put the pieces together this fast? No, never mind that—was Dick actually approving of Jason as a mate for Bruce? Surely he must see how young the boy was.

Alfred pushed a dining cart in and began serving them, Jason first.

"Smells amazing, Alfred, what is it?"

"Coq au vin," Alfred answered Dick, circling the table to give Dick his own dish, before serving Bruce. "I hope you have room after all those biscuits."

"I hope you have more biscuits for after I polish this off," Dick retorted, picking up his fork.

Despite having been assured that he need not worry about his table manners, Jason was still very stilted and awkward in how he ate, pushing the fork into the food very slowly and carefully as if the plate had landmines beneath it, and constantly glancing at Bruce to check if he had upset him. Bruce thus had to smile reassuringly at Jason almost continuously, and he could tell how Dick was taking that.

Dick carried the conversation on his back, talking about some movie he'd seen. Jason didn't talk at all and Bruce merely had to grunt now and then.

When Alfred came back in to clear away the plates, Dick appealed to him. "Jason must be pretty special, huh Alfred? Can you remember the last person who Bruce let find out?"

Bruce could; it was Selina. This was tricky; Dick thought that Jason met Batman first, and thus if Jason knew Bruce now, he must know Bruce was Batman. Jason must have been so confused, but thankfully he remained silent.

"Speaking for myself, I'm very happy to have Master Jason here," Alfred said calmly.

Jason cleared his throat and said, "Um, thank you for dinner, Alfred."

Alfred smiled at him. "You're most welcome, Master Jason." Then to Dick, "You see? Better table manners than yours already."

———

Bruce took a platter of biscuits and milk down to the panic room with Jason. Once they were seated at the table there, Jason picked up a cookie and spoke.

"Uh, can I ask something?"

"Go ahead."

"Are you... Batman?"

Maybe Jason hadn't been as confused as Bruce had thought. "Yes. Can I ask how you guessed?"

"Uh... Nightwing and Dick had the same smell, so... and Nightwing told me he was a friend of Batman... so..."

Huh. Dick hadn't been pumping pheromones out in the dining room at all; other people might not have even noticed he was omega. "What do you mean, the same smell?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?" Jason seemed puzzled by his curiosity.

"You can identify people by smell?"

"Sure. I'm a cat."

"You're a human with some genetic modifications," Bruce corrected.

Jason opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again to take another bite of biscuit.

"You don't have to hold yourself back so much," said Bruce, selecting a cookie himself.

"Wasn't anything important," Jason muttered.

"Are you sure?"

Jason bit his lip. "Can I ask something else?"

"Yes."

"So, you save lots of people...?"

Bruce thought there would be more to the question, but if there was, Jason wasn't voicing it. "I do my best to save people when I can."

Jason nodded, but dissatisfied.

"I've never claimed any other omega, though," Bruce added, making a guess, which appeared to hit the target.

Jason's ears wiggled, and he unsuccessfully fought off a smile. "Oh. Okay."

"I was going to tell you eventually, about Batman, but I didn't want to load too much information on you at once."

Jason shrugged. "You're the boss."

Bruce finished his biscuit and stood up. "Well, I have patrolling to do now, but I'll come here to sleep. Don't wait up."

Jason had his mouth full of biscuit, but he waved, and Bruce chuckled as he left.

Chapter Text

Jason's world expanded along with his waistline.

He was allowed free run of the manor but not to go outside. They had to be beyond careful, Bruce reminded him over and over. The possibility of a drone or a telescopic lens, though minute, was too high for Bruce. To that end, even with going around the manor, he wore a little watch-like thing that pinged if any perimeter intrusion was detected, and if it went off it was Jason's responsibility to go immediately to the panic room.

Whenever it happened, Jason dropped whatever he was doing and ran, as best as he could at least with his cumbersome belly, even though Alfred would always call after him to have more care. But this was having care. Jason had to show that he could be good, still.

Most of the time the perimeter alarm had been tripped by Bruce himself, after all, and when Bruce would come into the panic room and see Jason obediently curled up on the panic room sofa, his alpha always smiled at him in a way that made the scramble worth it.

Bruce assured him that once everything was above board, there would no longer be any restriction, but the only thing Jason really wanted to do was go out onto the manor grounds. He liked watching them through a crack between curtains, and even though the December grounds looked so cold and desolate, the bare branches of the trees looked all the more enticing.

The idea of going out into the rest of the world offered no appeal at all. His escape had ended up being probably the worst period of life, just because it had shattered the hopes he'd had that escape would be any improvement. And he didn't think the outside was ever going to be any good. Yeah, if Bruce really kept his word, Jason at least wouldn't have to worry every day about getting food to eat and a place to sleep, but that hadn't been the most soul-killing thing, not by half. It had been exhausting being met with continuous surprise and shock from everyone he encountered, and more often than not, strangers' surprise had given way to suspicion and hostility.

"Why do people hate cats?" Jason asked the doc at a check-up.

The doctor frowned. "Well, I wouldn't say that all people hate hybrids. I remember the media coverage around the time where the laws were being created to deal with hybrids was very... extreme. You see, while the mainstream press editorials took the position that yes, hybrids were human and should have the same rights and protections as any other human, there is... a certain population... shall we say, that takes the very fact that the mainstream wants a thing, as a reason why that thing must be dangerous or bad. And there are people who profit off of convincing them of that."

Jason frowned too, and nodded slowly, thinking his own thoughts. It made sense... aside from his mother, most of the people he had met in his life had been alphas and pretty much all of them had been bad. Were they the mainstream? They had certainly seemed powerful.

"You see, there was, and I'm afraid still is, a significant number of voices claiming not just that genetic engineering on humans was fundamentally dangerous and wrong, but that any product of genetic engineered is dangerous and wrong. They claim hybrids have uncontrollable behaviour like wild animals, they are all diseased and likely to infect people, attack people, so on."

"That's why they took out my teeth and kept my nails cut," Jason said, and privately continued, I would have liked to have scratched their eyes out and ripped out all their throats.

Dr. Thompkins gave him a look full of compassion. "What they were preventing you from doing, Jason, was defending yourself."

Jason missed the look because he was thinking, with some satisfaction, about how if he ever met Warner again he'd go straight for those horrible cheeks with his claws first.

"I'm afraid you should probably know in advance, there are many of these people openly advocating that rather than giving hybrids rights, all hybrids should instead be killed... you may hear them say 'euthanised,' as if you were just animals," Dr. Thompson said, and Jason squinched his lips. "And I'm sorry to say that even among some people who support hybrid legal rights in principle, there are many who still have a certain level of fear or prejudice. Especially when they are face to face with a hybrid. In a sad way I think that's a part of human nature itself, the human instinct to guard against danger, to have at least that intrusive thought, 'What if they're right, what if this thing attacks me, or has a contagious disease?' Because most people have never interacted with a hybrid before. And it's made more complicated by the fact that most hybrids, like you, are survivors of very difficult and abusive childhoods and youths, and may not act in a way that people expect, in terms of social norms."

"I don't need anybody to like me," Jason said, to reassure her, but her expression didn't make sense to him, so he must have done something wrong.

———

Alfred coughed as he examined the list that Jason had painstakingly written in his clumsy print. Alfred had requested Jason to write down his likes and dislikes, as a handwriting exercise, he said.

Things I Like
by: Jason

wen fire
salmon
TV
my claws
clime thing
go under the bed

At the bottom of this list, erased such that it ripped the paper, had been at one point something that might have been "sit on Bruce". If Alfred asked about it, Jason intended to deny all knowledge.

"'Wen fire,'" Alfred read aloud, "could you explain that one to me, dear boy?"

"Fire's nice. I like it when there's fire." Jason tipped his head towards the fireplace in the library. "Like that. Warm. Looks pretty."

"Indeed." Alfred wrote something on his list.

Jason tried to crane his head to see what Alfred was writing. "Did I spell it wrong?"

Alfred smiled as he folded the paper and put it into his jacket. "You missed a silent h. Those silent letters are tricky to remember, but you'll get it."

"I got it in 'the'," Jason pointed out.

"So you did. You'll remember it in 'when' soon. There's also a silent 'b' in 'climb.'"

Jason rubbed his nose with the back of his hand so he wouldn't scowl at Alfred, who was only trying to help. Be good. Be good.

———

The Christmas tree was a severe trial for Operation: Be Good.

It was enormous and it just looked so climbable, especially because it was covered with glittering, shining, dangling things and had a big gold star at the top, like a target.

Jason knew about Christmas, of course. There were so many TV shows and movies about it. But Willis wasn't the type who did shit like presents or special meals for his pets. He remembered his mother telling him that Santa didn't come to visit them because they didn't have a fireplace and a tree.

Some of his later owners had done shit like "give" him lingerie, as if that counted, but usually one day was like another and sometimes he had no idea even what season it was, since he didn't always have a TV or a window.

Jason helped Alfred bake gingerbread on Christmas Eve. It felt odd to put down a plate with a pair of cookies and a tall glass of milk, for the first time in his life, just like a little kid in a movie, when he was grown up and pregnant already.

Bruce crept into bed with him in the small hours.

Jason woke up with fingers on his face and something cold against his neck, and snapped at the fingers with a little growl.

Bruce laughed softly, and Jason blinked in the darkness. "Oh, it's you. Uh..." Yawn. "Sorry?"

"No, it was my fault for thinking I could do this without waking you," Bruce said, and reached for a control that added a soft light by the bed, enough to see that Bruce had a gold chain in his hands.

"This is a gift for you," Bruce said while Jason looked at the way the thick loops caught the light. "If you like it, that is. I thought, you can wear it when we're apart, and remember my promise, that I'll bring you back and claim you properly this time."

Jason sat up in the bed and let Bruce put the collar around his neck. It was cold at first, but he could tell it would quickly warm against his skin. The feeling was very different than the awful belled collars his old masters always made him wear. Humans wore courting jewelry like this.

"How does it feel? Is it comfortable? I tried to choose something you could wear all the time."

"Won't... I mean, for someone like me to have something like this..." Jason was torn. He knew how cautious Bruce was, and if Jason said his misgivings, then Bruce would change his mind and take it back, and Jason really didn't want it taken back.

"It looks great on you," Bruce assured him, which was not the problem.

"I guess I'm just worried that people will think it's weird!" Jason blurted out anyway. He never could keep his dumb mouth shut. He rubbed his thumb forlornly against the necklace he was sure he was about to lose forever. "Like if I'm supposed to be just a regular escaped cat, where would I get something nice like this? Someone might guess it's from you—Dr. Thompson definitely will know something's up."

"Hmm. You're right, there is a risk, but one that I think is worth it," Bruce said, and smiled at him. "You know, Dr. Thompson warned me that if I liked you so much I ought to do something about it directly. And Dick has gotten downright annoying about wanting me to court you."

"Is he crazy?"

Bruce laughed again, and leaned in to kiss him. Jason was glad they were doing something he knew how to do and knew that he did well; he eagerly grabbed onto Bruce's broad shoulders and kissed him back.

Bruce maneuvered Jason onto his side, and pressed more kisses along the nape of his neck, above and below the chain. "Merry Christmas, Jason."

Jason didn't answer in words because he was too blissed out on the thick cock fucking him slow and steady. He drifted back to sleep, spooning with Bruce's knot inside him.

———

In the morning, when Jason got out of the shower, there was a wrapped present on the bed in his room with "From Alfred" and "please open after your shower" written on a tag tacked on with a bow. Inside the box was a set of red silk pajamas and a pair of slippers. The pajamas had already been expertly tailored at the back to go around his tail, and there was an embroidered gold J on the pocket.

When he came up into the main house and got to the foyer, his eyes went wide at the bounty beneath the tree. There were so many presents! Who were they all for? Were there people coming? Should he be hiding?

Before he could hide, however, Dick appeared in the hall that led towards the dining room, carrying a loaded plate. He waved at Jason because his mouth was full.

"Good morning, Master Jason," Alfred called from further that way. "Come get your breakfast."

Jason looked at the presents again, but his tummy rumbled, and he went to the dining room where he found a spread of muffins, fruit, and bacon, as well as Bruce, standing there with a mug of coffee.

Jason suddenly felt almost shy. Bruce was wearing the same kind of pajamas! Matching pajamas! This was really too cheesy. Stuff like this didn't happen in real life—not in his real life, anyway.

Bruce choked a little on the coffee. Dick had followed Jason back into the dining room and said over Jason's shoulder, "Nice threads, B and J."

"I had nothing to do with that," Bruce said, still coughing.

"Ah, gee, Alfred, don't tell me I'm not your favourite anymore," Dick mock-whined. "Where's mine?"

"If Master Richard can be so patient as to wait to open his present from me, I am sure he will have nothing to complain of." Alfred, who was wearing a Santa hat, held out a plate and a set of silverware wrapped in a napkin to Jason.

A stereo was playing music, and Jason recognized it—A Charlie Brown Christmas. He used to watch that on TV, with his mom if she was around, when he was a kitten.

The only discordant note to the perfection was that outside the big picture window, ugly freezing rain was falling, rather than snow.

Bruce wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "Good morning, Jason."

Jason suddenly realized he hadn't said a word back to anyone, too awed by it all. "Uh, good morning. Thank you for the present, Alfred."

"I'm glad to see it fits you so well," Alfred said. "Would you care for some hot chocolate?"

Jason nodded, and Dick said, "I'll get it for him, Alfie. You want marshmellows?"

"Yeah. I mean yes please."

Dick laughed. "You got it, Little Cat. I'll put in extra."

"Is this all just for us? I mean is somebody else coming?" Jason put bacon on his plate. If he might need to skedaddle, he wanted to get as much bacon as possible first.

"Just us," Bruce said. "Alfred tends to go a little overboard at Christmas."

"If you think this is overboard, Master Bruce, I'm afraid I must tell you in advance that next year will put this one to shame. Baby only has one first Christmas."

Jason was sure his face must be as red as the brightest bauble on the tree.

———

The sofa in the foyer had been turned away from the fireplace to face the tree. Jason sat in the middle between Bruce and Dick while Alfred sat in an armchair that wasn't normally in the foyer. Little folding tables held everyone's breakfast and hot beverages.

Jason felt more daunted than delighted by most of the gifts he received. He hadn't gotten anyone anything, never mind that, as Bruce pointed out, it was impossible for him to go shopping. He still felt like he ought to have done something—he would have definitely done something, if he knew they were gonna give him so much stuff.

A lot of the boxes were marked from Santa. There was candied salmon, smoked salmon, salmon jerky, and a bag of salted egg fish skin snacks that Jason wanted to just rip open and stick his head inside. Books, lots of them, and it was really hard to just put a new book to the side and not even read the first page or ten. New clothes, a lot of it for having a bigger belly in the spring, which was weird to think about.

Alfred gave him an electric kettle, a collection of teas and hot chocolate mixes, and a book about how to make different kind of tea biscuits, which meant that maybe he would get to make them with Alfred, and that was probably the best part of the gift. Dick gave him a video game system with a ton of games—it wasn't brand new, but Dick said that he'd come by and play with Jason if he missed having the system, so as far as Jason was concerned, that just made it better.

Bruce gave him an electric lap blanket which was just the crowning extra touch to any other gift. There was no other gift that wouldn't be improved by enjoying it while wrapped up in a blanket that made heat.

Jason was going to be one happy kitty.

———

Bruce and Dick had to leave because they were making an appearance at some kind of Christmas Day charity event somewhere for Bruce's company or something, Jason wasn't paying that much attention because he was trying to decide which book he would read first and where he would read it.

Once his blanket was all charged up, he wrapped himself up it and sat in a plush window seat, where he could peek out through the crack in the velvet curtains and watch a tree with bird feeders and a bird fountain beneath it. The freezing rain stopped. He got to see Alfred, all bundled up himself in scarf and mittens and boots, come out to refill the feeder and check the fountain.

One of the books was called Birds of New Jersey and Jason entertained himself by matching the birds to the pictures and making careful marks in the back of the book to note which ones he'd seen. He especially enjoyed filling in the box for the Blue Jay, who he had seen grab a peanut and then come back for more.

Alfred brought him more hot chocolate and lunch on a tray table, so he didn't even have to move.

Jason felt warm all the way down to his bones, in a way that was much more than even the heated blanket. Man. If his previous masters had been like this, he never would have been bad. Honestly, it was their fault for being bad owners, then. Maybe Jason wasn't bad after all...

Jason yawned.

Bruce was the best master ever. Jason was so happy to be his. He would make sure that Bruce would never want any other pet.

———

Jason ended up falling asleep in the window seat, lulled to a nap by being full of lunch and happy feelings.

When he woke up, it was dark, and he could hear someone saying very quietly, "Aww, look at him. That's adorable."

Someone grunted back.

"You big softy. You're not fooling me. You wanna go over and give him a little kiss on that little tuft of white hair, doncha." The voice was Dick's, Jason could tell now.

Jason stayed still, hoping that Bruce would take up Dick's suggestion, but Bruce responded, "I'm not going to wake him up. He needs his rest for the baby."

"You sure? I'd love to say goodbye to him before I go."

"Dick..."

There was a long pause. "Well, spit it out, B."

"Do you really approve of my courting him? You don't think he's too young for me?"

"Oh, of course he's too young for you," Dick said flippantly, "but c'mon, anybody you fell for was always going to have some catch. He'll get older, at least; the rest of your old flames are never going to stop being super criminals."

Bruce chuckled at that, and Jason heard them moving away from the doorway.

Jason put his hand to the necklace.

When Bruce had said that Dick wanted Bruce to court Jason, Jason had dismissed it as crazy so fast it hadn't even sunk in. He had thought of the necklace as being like courting jewelry, even, and still never thought for one second this could actually be courting.

Jason, as more than a pet?

As... a real mate?

Chapter Text

Bruce may have become slightly obsessed with Jason.

He came to this realization when he noticed that instead of looking at the feeds showcasing the movements at the Gotham docks, his attention kept straying to the feed of the saferoom, where the catboy was napping. Jason wasn't even moving; he was just lying there, draped sideways over some pillows, but Bruce couldn't stop staring at his nipples, which were just peeking out where the blanket had slipped down.

His nipples had gotten so pink.

There was a subtle puffiness to his chest all over, but there was nothing subtle about that dark pink. It drew Bruce's gaze like a beacon every time. He wanted to forget about cracking this dumb weapons trafficking case and do something more important, like leave little hickeys and bite marks all around those perfect pink nipples.

On a wall of the cave there was a huge calendar that was full of all kinds of information about cases, expected events and movements of various rogues, likely targets for criminal or terroristic activity, and so on; but there was one week that was shaded in pink, with a day circled right in the middle.

The baby's due date.

Those pretty pink nipples would feed milk to his child.

Even when their bond was temporarily broken—and Bruce had the feeling that he was going to find that way more of an ordeal than Jason—Jason would still be his, because of their baby.

Bruce got out of the his chair, went over to the calendar, counted out some months, then pulled out his business cell phone to call his social secretary.

Two months. After two months, Jason could leave the baby with childcare for long enough to come to a charity ball and let Bruce officially fall for him.

Or maybe six weeks? Six weeks should be long enough.

What if he got his social secretary to arrange on-site childcare... So Jason could nip over to breastfeed and check on the baby anytime... if he did that, then four weeks would surely be enough time.

Bruce told the secretary to arrange a ball for a date between four and five weeks after Jason's due date.

"A benefit for hybrid shelters?" The social secretary was bewildered, which she well might be, as Bruce had hitherto never mentioned the issue. "May I ask—any specific shelter, sir?"

"Oh, you know," Bruce said airily, "that terrible business about Warner, I saw it on CNBC this morning. I'd met him a few times, never suspected him of anything. Now suddenly he's being charged with sex trafficking. Seems like it would be a good thing to make it clear that Wayne Enterprises supports blah blah blah... you know? It mentioned the victims were being taken to a hybrid shelter, and I thought, oh, that's the ticket. Good PR, in case there's a photo of me with him. Find out which hybrid shelters near Gotham are the best. Say, maybe we could invite a shelter's... guests? Residents? You'll find out what the correct word is, but you know. Them. Give 'em some nice clothes, that'll make good pictures." 

"Oh dear," the social secretary fretted, "you are very right, Mr. Wayne. I'll touch base with the PR department right away. We'll get ahead of it, don't you worry."

Bruce cut the conversation off rather abruptly because the video feed was now showing Jason stirring, his mouth opening in a lazy yawn, showing the gaps in his teeth where his fangs should be.

He abandoned the Gotham docks and was in the safe room while Jason was still carefully rubbing his eyes with the sides of his fingertips.

"Hello, Jason. Your claws have really grown in a lot, haven't they."

"Mmm... yeah. Hi." Jason grinned sleepily. "Are you back, or what?"

"Haven't gone out yet." Bruce crossed to the sofa as Jason invitingly lifted the blanket. "Thought I'd spend a little time with you first."

"Sure, right," Jason teased, but then gasped as Bruce wasted no time in lifting Jason into his lap, directly getting to work removing clothing barriers. "Geez, why so horny?"

"These," Bruce growled, touching at last the little nipples that had lured him in as Jason rubbed against his cock and leaned his furry back against his broad chest. "These pretty little things."

Bruce could feel Jason's tail twitching between them as he worked to get his cock in his boy while still keeping a hand caressing that sweet puffy chest.

"Unnn," Jason keened when Bruce finally popped the head of his cock in.

"You're always so wet and ready for me," Bruce said into Jason's shoulder. He felt so possessive suddenly. "My perfect little mate."

Jason arched his back as he sank onto Bruce's cock, but he made no effort to raise himself back up again.

Bruce chuckled and kissed Jason's temple. "Too heavy now to bounce on my cock, aren't you? And still tired from your nap, too, That's alright, Jay, I can do all the work."

He grasped the outside of Jason's thighs and kept his word. Jason may have gained twenty-five pounds or so, but for a man in Bruce's shape it was nothing. It did mean he couldn't touch Jason's chest but that was alright. He would explore them fully once they were knotted.

Bruce's eyes focused on the mating scar. Would the scar be removed in surgery? He hated the idea, even if he would be able to mate Jason again later. He wanted to leave another mark.

"Can I bite you?"

"Huh?" said Jason, and then before Bruce could repeat himself, said, "Oh, bite? Ungh—sure, g-go for it."

Jason let out an erotic little squeal when Bruce's canines broke the skin, though the rest of the bite was still not as hard as the mating bite.

Bruce pulled back and groaned with satisfaction, seeing the mating bite scar side by side with a fresh one.

Even if the scars faded, he'd leave more someday.

———

Jason leaned to one side as his little car avatar swung around the corner on the screen in front of him.

Dick's car was way, way out ahead. The only way he could possibly catch up was if Dick screwed up, and that didn't seem likely. Dick had finesse, fast reflexes, and excellent timing.

It was a little frustrating because Dick was good at basically all the games, but at the same time, Jason was glad that Dick definitely never went easy on him. He would rather lose a hundred times than be thought unable to cope with losing.

"Boom!" Dick said as his car crossed the finish line in first. He reached into a bag for a handful of popcorn while Jason kept driving, managing to get third out of eight places. "Not bad, Little Cat. You're getting better. Wanna keep playing, or do something else? There's a new nature documentary about the ocean that I've heard is amazing, and it'll look great on this big screen."

———

The documentary was fascinating, but too relaxing. Unconsciously Jason started to lean into Dick, and didn't realize he was doing it until he realized that Dick was cuddling him back.

That was something really special—to get to snuggle with another omega.

Really, it was special to touch anyone who wasn't Bruce. Alfred was great—the best, really—but when it came to cuddling, he wasn't... well, he didn't initiate physical contact. Jason was not going to be the one to initiate anything, ever, with anyone.

Well... except this time... but they were already on the couch together and Jason was so tired...

His eyes fluttered, and he struggled to open them up again and watch the images of the coral reef.

"You're so cute, jeez," murmured Dick, petting his hair and gently rubbing around his ears. "Is this okay?"

"'S'fine," Jason muttered, embarrassed.

"I've got a pet dog, but your fur is nicer than hers. I hope you take that as a compliment, I mean it as one."

When Dick's hand continued down and started kneading around his neck, though, that's when Jason was gone. Totally gentled like he hadn't been since he was a kitten. His eyelids drooped, but didn't fully close. He felt like he was floating in the warm tropical water with the anemones and the clownfish. When Dick's fingers got too close to where Bruce's bite had left a bruise, he twitched a little, but it didn't really hurt.

Dick stopped petting suddenly, his fingertips stilling. Then he lifted his hand and carefully moved and tugged very gently at the neck of Jason's shirt, stretching the neck hole on one side, almost to his shoulder. In Jason's fuzzy state of mind, this didn't bother him, especially because Dick then went back to stroking his hair. "Hey, Little Cat? Can I ask you a question—omega to omega. What's it like being mate bitten?"

If Jason had been both more alert and more knowledgable of Dick's tells, he would have realized that the careful ease of Dick's voice was off. But as it was, he sleepily answered, "Oh—sucks, actually."

"Does it really? Like, they always make it look so romantic on tv, don't they." The voice was saccharine sweet.

Jason chuckled and stretched a bit, curling into Dick's lap more. Dick let Jason coil into him. "Yeah, I know... it really hurt, plus I didn't want him to knot me raw in the first place... he hadn't bought me yet... thought he was gonna get me into so much trouble..."

"Haha," and the chuckle was fake, but Jason didn't register it. "Did you stay mad at Bruce after he bought you?"

Jason chuckled more, rubbing his ears into Dick's tummy. "Yeah, cuz I knew I'd never escape, y'know? S'like a homing... homing... whatever it is... y'know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know," said Dick, a little tightly, but then he resumed petting Jason's neck, and they both relaxed more. "Are you still mad at him then?"

"Nah," Jason said, yawned, and continued yawning as he talked, which rendered it pretty incomprehensible: "Diddyhuurdma."

"Say that again?"

"It didn't—" yawn. "Didn't hurt that... that much... s'worth it cuz he's nice t'me... y'know... gonna keep my kitten... doesn'even beat me, and..." Another yawn.

"Right," said Dick calmly, but his face was furious.

Jason had no idea. He was asleep.

———

When Bruce came back into the cave in the early hours before dawn, he was surprised to see Dick there. He'd known Dick was coming over to hang out with Jason but assumed that duties as Nightwing or just his own social life would call him away long before this.

And Dick wasn't in costume, so this couldn't be something where he was looking for Batman's assistance on a case.

"Didn't take you for a biter," Dick said, crisp and angry, in lieu of a greeting. "Not like you to leave evidence. I wouldn't have thought so, anyway. Maybe I'm wrong about a lot about you, though."

Bruce kept the cowl on. "Can you tell me plainly what you're accusing me of?"

"You're the one who marked Jason. God, I should have realized... how the hell did you fool Alfred, though?"

Bruce swallowed. A dozen responses went through his mind. "Alfred knows. I told him as soon as it happened."

"So then why'd you leave me to figure it out?"

Being honest wasn't going to help, but neither was anything else. "Because I was ashamed. Also I thought your reaction would be more or less... this. I did originally intend to tell you, but then you introduced yourself to Jason, and I was... well... it surprised me when you immediately seemed to endorse Jason as a potential partner. I had thought that the age difference by itself..."

"I thought you were being chivalrous to some poor traumatized hybrid who was pregnant by somebody else. I thought your affection was so sweet, so selfless, and that you would have to be practically clubbed over the head by me and Alfred just to get you to the point of asking Jason for a date. And I now I find out that all along... hell, I still almost can't believe it, even with you admitting it. Were you drugged, or... but even when Ivy got you herself, you never... I never would have thought..." Dick was struggling with his words, and Bruce couldn't blame him. Dick was an omega, yet Dick had trusted Bruce, had lived with Bruce, had been his partner, had gone through puberty and become a fully mature omega in Bruce's house. Beyond that, one or both them had been dosed with pheromones on multiple occasions while battling Poison Ivy.

Through all of that time, Bruce had never made a move on Dick, much less assaulted him, and Dick had clearly thought of it as an impossibility. Now Dick must be wondering how close he came to being raped and bonded himself.

"Do you have any excuse at all?" Dick said when Bruce made no reply. It was accusatory but also pleading.

"I do not. But I can tell you the facts if you want them."

"Yeah. I do."

Bruce sat down and took off the cowl. "So. It all started with Warner." He recounted Warner's initial overtures, and how he had begun investigating the sex trafficking as if Bruce Wayne was interested in purchasing a hybrid from Warner or one of his contacts.

It was hard to know how to phrase his actual meeting with Jason and what details to include; should he include anything extenuating, or would that be just making excuses? But if he left out details, was he not giving Dick the facts? "Warner told me that he intended to 'get rid of' Jason rather than sell him, because he was badly behaved and so good at escaping that he was a risk to the whole operation, but that since he had gone into heat, Warner thought I could try him out, as if Jason was a disposable sample. I was shown into a room with a hybrid young man who was tied to a bed, in heat, with no method of relieving himself. Jason wasn't gagged, and he begged for sex with me. I then..." Bruce forced himself not to break eye contact. "I knew it was wrong, but I raped him. Also, I was provided a condom, but I didn't use it, and I didn't put it on when Jason told me to pull out. Then I bit him, even though he was begging me not to. He stopped talking and cried through the rest of the heat." He took a deep breath to steady himself. "I told Warner I wanted to buy him. Warner tried to discourage me, but I insisted, so he sold him to me for fifty thousand dollars."

"Well. I thought I was going to have to correct you saying you had sex with him, but... if you know it was—knew it was rape and force bonding... how could you do it? I would never have believed you capable of it."

"I did not believe myself capable of it. I did the wrong thing—"

"But why?"

It was happening. This was it, the final break between him and Dick that he had foreseen when he was diriving away with Jason. He was such a fool for letting himself think Dick wouldn't find out. He gave the only answer he could give. "Because I wanted to. It felt good at the time. It felt right. It wasn't even that I made a decision that I thought would be the only chance to get Jason away—I didn't have to rape Jason to do that. If I had actually thought about it, an alternate method of rescue was obvious. I could have pretended I was paranoid about hidden cameras and blackmail, refused sexual activity at the location, yet still bought Jason and taken him away with me. But I didn't think about anything but having him. It was the worst thing I've ever done. I knew that, the moment the heat was over."

Dick stared at him for a moment, his expression impossible even for Bruce to read. "The moment the heat was over?"

"Yes. It was all I could think about in the car when I was driving Jason home. I was sick with disgust against myself, I was dreading having to tell Alfred, and I knew... I knew that when you found out, you'd never forgive me. I understand that."

"But you thought you could get away with it."

"Not then. Not until later. I thought... it was selfish and cowardly, but I did begin to hope that I could make it up to Jason and that everything would be alright. It surprised me when you met Jason, and then you liked each other and it was going so well..."

"Of course I like him. He's adorable. You know, he told me you aren't so bad, because at least you don't beat him?" Dick snapped. "Why didn't you let him go?"

Bruce knew Jason wasn't the kind to admit affection, but hearing this phrasing made his heart twist, and then he was angry at himself for it. How could he be distracted by having his feelings hurt that Jason described him as "not so bad," when they're discussing how Bruce raped Jason?! Bruce swallowed. "I couldn't let him go until I broke Warner's ring, but I promised he could go as soon as it was safe, and that I'd provide for him. I never expected him to want me to keep him... but since he does, all I want to do is make him happy. Believe that, at least, Dick."

"You think that he came onto you?"

"I know it's hard to believe, but yes, that's what happened. After the Justice League mission in Russia, when I got back, he confessed that he wanted me. And he's been so much happier, Dick, I'm not lying to you. Before that, he was very unhappy and destructive... now he's thriving, even Leslie says he's thriving."

Dick stared open jawed at him for a moment, blinked, shook his head, and said, "Oh my God. How can you be such an ignorant dumbass at your age?! You really don't get it, this is blowing my mind. God, and it's the same thing as you not realizing you'd fucked up until his heat was over. My God, I cannot believe this."

"What are you talking about?"

Dick ruffled his own hair in frustration. "Just tell me this first: have you ever been in a relationship with an omega? A serious one where you had sex, I mean."

"No," said Bruce, frowning, "but I've been around you in your heat many times."

"Okay, listen. I'm not saying that what you did wasn't rape, but the fact is there's something even worse happening right now and you have no goddamn clue because apparently Jason's pheromones turn your mind to mush. You're gonna need an asterisk next to World's Greatest Detective to note that there's an exception if you're near Jason. When you're near Jason, you couldn't deduce how to pour water out of a boot with the instructions on the heel."

"What are you getting at," Bruce said, struggling to keep the growl out.

"I'm saying if his pheromones made you lose your mind enough to rape a kid, then how in the world have you not figured out that when you went away, Jason got hurt by that just as bad? Don't you understand that Jason has no choice but to try to keep you happy with him, now? His body chemistry itself is telling him he needs you to be happy with him. You marked him and you're the sire of his baby! And fuck, that doesn't get into how all his previous captors have treated him. You've held all the power on him from the beginning, and then you look at me and say with a straight face, really believing it, that he came onto you, as if you were two strangers in a bar, instead of, you know, reality, which is that Jason was a pregnant force bonded slave. All he's ever known is rape, imprisonment, and beatings! Looking good next to that is not an accomplishment!"

Dick was really getting heated up by the end of this rant, but Bruce didn't blame him at all. He was so stunned and convicted that he nearly forgot to breathe.

"You were never a rescuer to him, Bruce; not in the way you thought you were rescuing him. You're just the best owner he's had."

Bruce couldn't speak. What could he say? Jason... Jason didn't... Jason couldn't love him, not really. Dick was right, Jason was only doing what he needed to do to survive. How could it be love if Jason didn't know he had any other option? Bruce was lurching back and forth between dread of the idea that Jason was suffering and a darker and much more selfish anguish that Jason didn't love him.

"You're really struck dumb by this, huh? God. I don't even know what to do..." Dick broke eye contact and smoothed out his hair, shaking his head. "Like, I couldn't believe it, and now I can believe it." He looked back at Bruce. "You said Alfred knows. What did he say? He's acting like..."

When Dick seemed to be struggling for words, Bruce leaped in. "Don't think badly of Alfred. He..." This was difficult to say, but necessary to spare Alfred from Dick getting the wrong idea. "I told Alfred as soon as I came home, as I said, and I was... selfishly primarily concerned with my own self-disgust and moral crisis. Alfred made me see that I was being selfish and that the most important thing was caring for Jason. Alfred was deeply disappointed in me, both for what I did and how I was handling it. Anything I haven't messed up with Jason is only because of Alfred."

Dick frowned, but nodded. "Yeah. That makes sense. Alfred's right, that the most important thing is what's best for Jason. And my gut reaction, which was to get the Justice League to investigate, maybe wouldn't have worked out best for Jason. I'm glad I decided to ask you about it first."

Bruce waited for Dick to say more, trying not to wither under his cold gaze.

"It's what Jason wants for his life that matters. He's never had real choices. I don't want to take his choices away, so if he really does choose to be with you, then I'll support him. But you need to realize that you have been taking his choices away. I supported you courting Jason because I thought that Jason felt safe to reject you. If Jason wants to choose you, then fine, but I am telling you right now, I am not going to quit until I'm satisfied that Jason 100% believes that he has the choice to go it alone. And if I have to involve the Justice League to make that happen I will. So convince me how you're going to do that."

At least Bruce had his initial plan to fall back on. "Leslie said the surgery shouldn't be performed until after Jason gives birth, but can be performed as soon as a few days after. She will be the one to take Jason to the hospital and arrange things as if Jason was found on the streets. Then..." This hurt to say. "...he'll no longer have that chemical urge to placate me and keep me near, that you were talking about. And I will make it clear that Jason will be financially supported for the rest of his life no matter what. That I will give him fully custody of the child, if that's what he wants, and he never has to see me again. Or... or..."

He was floundering. Bruce didn't flounder. He had carefully arranged his entire life for many years so that he would never flounder.

"Or maybe Jason will come up with his own ideas," Dick said, still coldly looking down on him. "I'll talk to Jason as well. I'll make sure he knows there are people who can protect him from you."

They kept uncomfortable eye contact for a few more seconds, then Dick blew out a big breath, and shook his head again. "Although who knows... wouldn't be surprised if he still decides that it's best to keep with the rich devil you know. He's not dumb, our Little Cat."

"No. No, he's very smart."

Dick started to leave, but paused at the exit and turned back. "You know, I thought Jason was good for you. And now I know that's exactly the problem. He's too good for you, he's your type and then some, meaning he's cute and he pushes back and he's sassy, but ultimately he's totally dependent on you and you control everything, and he's here waiting for you all the time. So you don't have to change a damn thing about yourself. Lucky you."

Bruce sat by himself after Dick had left for quite some time.