Alfred has truly out done himself tonight.
The sliver plates, the good plates that he only used for close and intimate dinners with guests, for women he asked out to get some information out of if they were closely connected to the latest case. Rarely the kid's birthdays since they preferred to eat out rather stay in the house for their celebrations. Not that Bruce minded, he liked to give them a bit of normalcy in Gotham.
For tonight's dinner was a beautiful thing, Alfred clearly took his time to cook as [M/N] was asked to come around eight. The children were out on Patrol early; Damian seem very happy being sent after pizza was ordered for them and Cassandra and Tim were going to be leading it.
On the plate is mashed potatoes, milky white and soft like clouds with dark brown gravy dripping down into puddles on the plate with long green asparagus was beside it. Drowning near the brown gravy as the steak on the plater took focus. Dark brown, cooked medium rare with pepper and salt.
Bruces however was more well done then medium.
[M/N] came on the dot and dressed casual, Bruce simply said to come dressed for dinner. [M/N] wore a dark fusia colored button up with dark jeans and darker shoes. Hair brushed and let Alfred hang his jacket away, as Bruce greeted him at the door. He wore dark slacks with dark shoes; a black turtleneck pressed against the top of his body.
They talked about nothing, [M/N] was still putting distance between them since they both slept together three months ago. Bruce had been respectful and polite, letting the distance happen, how [M/N] moved away from his touches and just give him an uncertain smile between them.
Now they sat across from each other at the large table with Alfred nearby, who served them quietly. Bruce usually sat at the head of the table but now sat across from [M/N], he was sitting in Dick's seat, and [M/N] was sitting in Jason's seat, when the two were able to make it to family dinner.
"Wine sir?" Alfred asked Bruce who shakes his head, he hasn't told Alfred yet. Alfred raised a brow before [M/N] agreed to have some and poured it into the glass carefully.
[M/N] sipped it as Alfred poured Bruce some water instead, sipping it as he glanced to Bruce. The only sound was their utensils scraping against the silver plate and [M/N] occasionally taking a sip of his wine as they both ate.
[M/N] kept his gaze lowered as he pressed his knife through the steak, the blade gliding through the tender center. He focused on the mechanics of itâthe clean cut, the faint steam risingâanything but the man sitting across from him. "It's been a while."
He had made sure of that.
He had traded shifts with ArthurâAquamanâmore than once, offering early Watchtower rotations so the King of Atlantis could return to his family beneath the ocean. He had rearranged briefings, delegated patrols, hid in different rooms in the Watchtower for lunch. If Bruce was expected at a meeting, [M/N] found a reason to be elsewhere unless it was urgent.
Bruce lifted his glass of water, the movement controlled and unhurried. "I've been sick recently," he said. His tone was even, almost casual. "It's only recent."
[M/N]'s fork paused halfway to his mouth. "It isn't something that spreads, right?"
One eyebrow rose faintly as he took the bite anyway, chewing slowly while studying Bruce over the rim of his lashes. The man didn't look sick. Bruce Wayne rarely did. He hid broken ribs behind tailored suits and somehow stay conscious during dinner parties after being bashed in the head a few times. A cold would not slow him.
Bruce set his glass down with quiet precision. Then, without a word, he reached up and tugged the collar of his black turtleneck down just slightly.
The change was immediate.
It was not a visible shift, but it was tangibleâpalpable. The scent that flooded the dining room was rich and unmistakable. Not the cold, filtered shadow Bruce wore as Batman, his scent was always filtered. This was him.
Blackberries. Whipped cream.
Something warm like cedarwood.
[M/N]'s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he shot to his feet, palms slamming against the polished table. The silverware rattled. Bruce did not look up immediately. He cut into his steak with deliberate calm, as if he hadn't just saturated the room with pheromones that rolled thick and heavy through the air.
"Bruce," [M/N] said, voice tight and level. "I'm not playing. I am not going to sleep with you againâ"
Bruce dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin and folded it neatly beside his plate. Only then did he lift his gaze. Blue eyes unwavering as always.
[M/N] gagged faintly, stepping back as if the table had struck him. His vision swam, scent overwhelming his senses. He grabbed his wine glass with unsteady fingers and drained it in one swallow, setting it down too hard against the table.
"No," he muttered. "Nope. I am not. You are not."
"I haven't had an appointment yet," Bruce continued, thoughtful rather than defensive. There was a flicker of something beneath his composure, disappointment, sharp and fleeting, at the denial in front of him. "But I'm certain."
He gags again but ignored the look on Bruce's face, and the curiosity when Alfred popped back in with a car with dessert on top. [M/N] didn't look at him, didn't look at Bruce as he left the manor's dining room and heading out. The door slammed loudly behind him as he heads to his car.
There was no way he's the father.
Bruce heard the door slam and exhaled, his hand moving towards his stomach slowly and rubbed his palm against his midsection as if to settle the baby who was the size of a grape. Just a round fleshy bubble of organs going to grow.
Alfred glanced to Bruce curiously and before he could ask, even prompt Bruce into telling him since it was like pulling teeth with him.
The words hung in the air as Alfred's composure slipped for half a secondâjust enough to betray surprise. Bruce had told no one. Not his children, not anyone beside [M/N] and now Alfred.
"[M/N] is the father," Bruce continued evenly. "I'll need confirmation for him at least."
There was no doubt in his voice. He knew it is [M/N]'s, he had made sure to eat all the vitamins and supplements he researched for fertility especially at his age. Made sure that [M/N] had put him in a mating press and knot him so good in his womb as he was impregned.
"And you believe he will... adjust to this information?" Alfred asked carefully.
Bruce's expression did not change. "He values responsibility," he said. "He won't abandon his child." Bruce sipped his water. "Not that he has a choice." It wasn't said cruelly. It wasn't even said angrily. It was simply the truth as Bruce Wayne understood it, that [M/N] would take reasonability.
Outside, the gravel drive crunched beneath [M/N]'s tires as he left the manor behind.
Inside, Bruce stood in the dining room that had once hosted countless strategic conversations and quiet manipulations, now the left-over lingering scent of [M/N]'s worry and anger and confusion. His palm remained pressed against his abdomen, thumb tracing slow circles.
"You're his," he murmured under his breath, voice low enough that only the empty room could hear. "He just hasn't accepted it yet."
There was a small coffee shop in Bludhaven near his apartment building and isn't always busy around Thursday afternoon especially on a rainy day. The windows had fogged a little at the corners from the difference between the cold outside and the warm air inside, and the handful of people scattered through the shop kept to themselves, eyes down over laptops and paperbacks and ceramic mugs.
Dick had gotten off his EMT shift two hours earlier than he let on. He'd gone home, changed three times, and settled on a dark blue sweater over a white t-shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of converse he kept meaning to throw out but somehow never did. The sweater was doing its job well enough, soft and loose where it needed to be, not that he was showing much yet. Enough that he noticed.
He somehow managed to get [M/N] there in the first place. Said it was an emergency, something along the lines of needing help to catch some underground lizard cult. Something stupid yet believable. He ordered a strawberry matcha cold brew and read the same paragraph of a folded magazine four times without really caring about what was written.
He'd looked up how much caffeine was safe during pregnancy. Dick had a note in his phone about it, cross-referenced from three different sources. A cup every few days was the consensus, give or take. It was going to be an adjustment, but it wasn't impossible. He hadn't been a heavy coffee drinker to begin with, and he'd already quietly crossed sushi off the list without much grief. He could do this. He just needed to get through the next hour first.
The door opened with a small sound of rain and the bell above the frame, and [M/N] stepped inside, shaking water off his jacket before scanning the room.Â
"I thought it was an emergency." [M/N] said as he walked towards the booth where Dick was sitting at. " Unless they're for some ungodly reason is harvesting sugar for whatever."
"Cute." Dick said with a little chuckle leaving his lips. He fiddled with the cool cup of his cold brew, "Take a seat."
" I'm serious Dick." [M/N] says as he slides across from the young man. He smoothed his hair back with one hand, and Dick caught the silver threading through the dark at his temples, more than there used to be, or maybe he'd just started noticing it more lately. "I was moving fast enough that I almost clipped a plane. You said lizard people, underground cult, pets, and then you strongly implied they were going to start eating families." He looked at him across the table. "I took that very seriously."
Dick may had fudged the truth to get [M/N] there fast.
"My bad," Dick said. He offered the most genuinely sheepish smile he had, which had gotten him out of worse situations than this, mostly with Bruce or his brothers, and turned the straw slowly between two fingers. "I didn't mean to upset you."
[M/N] shakes his head. " You didn't. But it's just..."
" It's been a while since we talked or even looked at each other?" Dick finished the older man's thought. It had been three months of silence, purposely crafted silence.
Dick didn't have many team-up missions with [M/N] to begin with, their work rarely overlapped in a way that required it, but the Watchtower was different. The Watchtower was neutral ground, full of hallways and common areas and briefing rooms where proximity was unavoidable. And every single time Dick had been up there over those three months, he'd seen [M/N] choose a different direction. Had watched him find something else to look at. He'd called his name once across a corridor and gotten nothing back. He'd waved, big and obvious, the way he always did, and Hal had actually nudged [M/N] with an elbow, and Barry had turned to look at Dick and then back at [M/N] with an expression that read, "Don't ignore him dude". [M/N] had kept walking like none of them were there.
[M/N] treated him like he wasn't there.
Dick fiddled with his cold coffee as [M/N] shifted in his seat uneasily, glancing at the cafe decor before Dick did it. He didn't want to tell him the reason why, the shame he felt even if he thought it wasn't his fault. He acted inappropriate with his co-worker's son. Even if Dick was older, never had any feelings or real opinion over the man, it felt wrong.
He hooked one finger into the collar of his sweater and pulled it down, just slightly, just enough.
His scent came out the way water does when something that was holding it back finally gives, slow at first and then all at once, rolling outward and filling the space between them without any hurry. It was a good scent, even Dick knew that in the detached, matter-of-fact way he knew most things about himself. Mahogany and green tea, warm and grounded with something underneath it that softened the edges.Â
His scent is unmatched with how sweet it is, how alluring it is. Across the table, [M/N]'s breath caught.
A scent he was far too familiar with.
[M/N] was on his feet before the thought finished forming between the panic, nearly catching his shin on the edge of the booth in his hurry to stand. He stood there for a moment at the end of the table, upright and very still, and swallowed once.
"Oh no," he said. Dick placed both hands flat on the table and waited. "Dick." [M/N]'s voice had gone careful, the particular careful of a man choosing each word like he was stepping across something unstable. "Buddy."
A child was not part of any version of any plan he had made for himself. And not with someone this young. Not with someone who had grown up in that house, under that name. The Wayne name.
"I'm not asking for much." Dick said as he watched the worry on his child's father. He could see the worry, and the anxiety. He whined softly before clearing his throat, it was a new thing to him, but he suspected it was the pregnancy smoothing out the Alpha in him. That he had to be soft to the baby and his body, his smell and his mind was preparing even taking up omega like traits.
He's panicking, he's going to abandon me, he's going to leave me and abandon me and the baby. Our baby. My baby.
"Please don't do anything irrational," Dick said, and he was already sliding out of the booth, his fingers closing around [M/N]'s sleeve before the other man had taken two steps.
Dick's hunches nearly let out as [M/N] pulled back.
" It isn't my baby, what we did was a mistake." He said flatly as Dick's heart pounds hard and his own snarl was leaving his lips but he bit down. [M/N] yanked his arm free with a sound growl in his throat, something of a warning, and Dick's shoulders pulled inward with the force of it like he'd taken a small blow to the chest.
"What we did was a mistake," [M/N] said. He didn't look at Dick's face when he said it. "It isn't my baby."
The bell above the door rang once, and then [M/N] was gone.
The soft noise of the coffee shop filled back in around the absence of him. A few people at nearby tables glanced toward the door, then toward Dick, with the politely curiosity of strangers who had caught the tail end of something they weren't meant to see. Dick stood at the end of the booth for a moment that lasted longer than it should have, and then the heat came up the back of his neck and moved into his face all at once, and he sat back down.
It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.
Slowly he placed his hand against the smallest, barely-there curve beneath it. He stayed like that, not pressing, just resting his hand there in the quiet of the booth while the rain continued against the window beside him.
Dick did all the necessary things to prepare for this. Took the fertility drugs, the perfect diet and routine to prepare himself and his body. He worked hard to get [M/N] on the mission in the first place, to get to his home and worked his charm and his scent over the alpha in rut.
And now he was sitting in a coffee shop in BlĂŒdhaven with a cold drink he hadn't finished and a hand pressed to a bump that the baby's father had just walked away from.
He exhaled slowly through his nose and looked down at the table.
He probably looked pathetic right now. He was aware of that. He could see it from the outside clearly enough, the picture of it, young and flushed and alone in a booth with his hand on his stomach. But the feeling underneath the embarrassment was something else than either of those things, something that hadn't moved when [M/N] pulled his arm away or when the door swung shut.
Dick wasn't worried. Not yet.
He would just have to work harder.
"Love what you did to the couch," [M/N] said drily as he floated into the safe house in Gotham. Beuce had let him through, he told him he was stopping there to talk to the question whom was operating nearby. So it wasn't a complete lie, he closed the window behind him as Jason leans on the doorway of his safe houses kitchen. "Less bloody from last time."
"It's still stain." Jason replied simply, as he watched the father of his pup walk in, his entire ridiculous pink and red outfit like some pop icon. His eyes followed the alpha quietly before exhaling. "Thanks for coming all the way here to see me." Something in Jason's chest melted, pleasing and like butter. It was warm and curled around him, like a second coat but a nice warm one.
"You said it's an emergency," [M/N] said as he smoothed out his hair a bit. "Something about life and death about a pup?" Jason knew the older man has a soft spot for kids, for pups. They were like his kryptonite, his bane and Jason was going to abuse the hell out of that soft spot.
Fuck it was taking everyone in Jason to not pull the older man into him, get him on the couch and ride his cock like no tomorrow. No, Jason has to hold back. Just for now at least.
"You're probably busy with whatever alien shit you have to do." Jason breaths out as he sat down, his hands pressed together as he was mustering up the courage to tell his father's coworker that he is knocked up. That Jason allowed himself to be knocked up and it was all [M/N]'s fault.
"Enough to basically threaten me so yeah. I had to cut an intel meeting short to come here." [M/N] lets out a tired chuckle while rubbing his neck as he could smell something sweet in the air and his eyes narrowed a bit. "You got another omega in here or something? I know you don't eat a lot of sweets-"
"I'm pregnant and it's yours." A moment of silence, heavy and suffocating. "And if you don't take care of it, I am not above blackmailing you."
The cold Gotham air cut through the open window as [M/N] swung one leg over the ledge, fingers curling around the frame. He was halfway out when Jason's voice hit him.
His shoulders locked up, the muscles pulling tight beneath his suit as he stood there straddling the windowsill, one foot dangling out into the open night. He could hear Jason shifting behind him, watching him, waiting. His eyes drifted upward toward the sky, measuring the distance, calculating how fast he could drop and disappear into the dark below. Slowly, he pulled his leg back inside. His fingers tightened against the window frame before he finally turned around to face the Omega.
"What do you want me to do? Pay for it?" [M/N] asked while rubbing his temple with his fingers as his eyes focused on Jason's stomach. There wasn't a swell there under his shirt, but he couldn't help but glare at that area. He was still young, in a way, young-ish than Bruce and the others but still! He couldn't cut his life around to make room for a baby.
He loved, loved but fuck it was a point where he needed to love himself and not some parasite.Â
"Depends on your definition of paying." Jason replied gruffly.Â
"Do you want me to spell it out for you?" [M/N] said, his voice sharpening now, the words coming faster than he could stop them. "An abortion. We handle it, and we move on."
The air in the room changed.
Jason's scent shifted before anything else did, the soft underlying honey that always clung to him burning away under something hotter, something sharp and dark like oil catching flame. His eyes went cold, staring at him like he was trying to burn [M/N]. Like it was burning it, burning him.
 The audacity of this man to tell Jason to kill it, as if Jason hadn't spent months on this. Months quietly hoping, quietly planning, holding onto something he wasn't even sure his body could give him. A child. A pup, made between two people who had chosen each other, a man that finally chosen Jason. He had not come to this man tonight asking for charity. He had come expecting a partner.
He sounded too fucking ungrateful.
"Watch your mouth," Jason said, low and rough, working to keep his voice from cracking under the weight of it.
"Then keep me out of it." The words were out before [M/N] had finished thinking them, his jaw tight, his hands trembling at his sides in a way he couldn't entirely stop. He didn't want this. He did not want to be standing in this room, in this conversation.Â
Jason growls from the deepest of his throat, he moved forwards. A hand closed around the front of his cape and yanked hard, and suddenly there was no distance between them at all. Their faces were inches apart, Jason's eyes blazing, his breath warm and furious against [M/N]'s face.
"Say that again," Jason said. "I dare you."
His other hand found [M/N]'s throat, fingers curling around it with deliberate pressure. Not enough to cut off air. Enough to make a point, just because he was pregnant didn't mean he couldn't and wouldn't beat him up. Deep in his chest, [M/N] could feel the faint electric hum of the All-Blades reaching toward the surface the way they always did when Jason's emotions ran too hot, but they never came. Jason pushed them back down, visibly, the muscles in his jaw working as he held himself back.
"Jason." [M/N] hissed through grit teeth and narrowed eyes. He could break out of it, but [M/N] didn't want to hurt him, to cause trouble in Gotham and equally caused stress to the partnership he has with Bruce. "Let go."
"Then fucking accept it." Jason's voice dropped, quieter now, but no less sharp for it. "You are the father. You're going to be fucking present. You're going to be there for every cramp and every craving and every contraction, and you are going to be a real father." His grip on [M/N]'s throat didn't loosen, but something behind his eyes did, just barely. "Or I will hunt you down myself. Every city, every corner of this world. I will find you."
He's gonna be mine, mine, mine, mine.
As each word sounded like a chain being clicked around [M/N]'s limbs.
Due to his busy schedule and workaholic tendency, Tim couldn't make time to tell [M/N] or call him down to Wayne Manor over coffee and explain that he was going to be a father. An active father to their child inside Tim's womb. No, not yet at least. So, with some push back and having to reschedule meetings and dismiss himself from active work for the night, he picked a night to invite [M/N] to Gotham.
For dinner at some fancy restaurant, one of the nicer ones that hardly gets robbed by anyone. Tim made sure, he wanted all of [M/N]'s attention on him tonight and couldn't afford for anything to go wrong.
"I never been to a restaurant that didn't have prices beside the food." [M/N] said as he opened the dark red menu, the items in cursive with the detail descriptions under it. His eyes glanced over as the place wasn't busy, there were a few couples and people there at their tables while dressed like they were heading to an expensive auction. Live music playing in the background along with the subtle smell of the food cooking in the kitchen.
"It's my treat." Tim said as he skims over the items on the menu, mentally reminding him what he could and couldn't have due to his pregnancy. "Order whatever sounds good to you."
See? See how I can take care of you? Most people can't but I can.
"Are you buttering me up for something?" [M/N] chuckled as he looked at the menu before deciding on something hearty. Tim had been an odd one, he was a cute kid once, met him once and twice, usually when something was going to destroy the Earth and Bruce needs all his tools laid out in front of him. "If it's working for you again, I'm not doing it. You just want me to sponge off the information off people."
Tim had mentioned it more than once, when he was slowly separating himself from Bruce and focusing on his own career as Red Robin. After Damian came in and booted him from the spot, and Tim was growing out of it.
"It's not that," Tim assured as he sipped his water. His eyes glanced around as he admired the decor, pushing down the excitement that was growing in him, literally. He glanced at the man, watching him and the faint greying around his hair. It was faint, and not noticeable unless you were close, but he spots it. Wanting to run his fingers into his hair, to touch them and count each strain. "I actually came into news, important news."
"Important to include me?"
"Most definitely." Tim hummed as the waiter came and collected their orders. Something light for him. It was watching his figure but also giving into his cravings. Seared scallops in pomegranate glazed.Â
[M/N] took a simple steak with mashed potatoes and dark gravy with asparagus. Something light for himself as he hands the menu over and more wine is poured for him by the waiter as the music shifted around them to another song. Something steady, beautifully played and it helped set the mood between the two men.
"Let me guess," [M/N] grins to Tim as his stomach was doing flips and butterflies were swarming his heart with their wings thumping. "Some sort of incognito mission about something that Batsy can't even do. Or maybe some undercover mission for the Ra's, they like me there." His eyes glint as he talked to Tim. "Or maybe at Arkham Alysum that helps you guys with a case. "
The man was after his own heart. He's the perfect mate. He's practical, he's loving, he's caring, he's emotional in places Tim is wasn't. Not that Tim Drake wasn't emotional, he has emotions. Love, courage, sympathic, clingy, bold and lustful. He has plenty of emotions.
But with [M/N]? It was like he was in another galaxy and they were the only two there.
" Nothing like that." Tim shrugs his shoulders with a lingering yet weary smile. " It's more personal."
" Personal?" He chuckled, " Do tell."
" It's a long mission, something you can't really drop until it's completely done." Tim said vaguely as possible. " Possibly nine months to complete, maybe ten." He was a ten month baby, his poor mother carried him for ten full months.
"A long mission then?" [M/N] asked. " Does anyone else know about this mission then?"
Not yet. No, I haven't told my family or friends just yet.
"Oh, secret mission then? The more I hear about it. The more I want to know more." [M/N] said with another boyish grin as he looked at the other across from him. He sipped his wine as Tim sipped his water. "What's going on? Undercover? Spy mission?"
Tim hesitated for a moment as he watched the man. He looked so handsome and looked so bright in front of him, like nothing else matter beside Tim.
He didn't have a powerful scent like the usual population. Tim has a faint one, nothing as sweet as an omegas or as powerful as an alpha.
He smelled like grapes, if Tim had to be honest. There wasn't a particular powerful smell but it was there. Just hidden underneath everything and faint. He couldn't show him how pregnant he smelled.
" The food, sirs." The waiter said as she carefully placed down the food in front of the two men and refilled [M/N]'s wine glass. He leaves as [M/N] gripped his silverware and began cutting into the steak.
Tim fiddle with his fork carefully, his thumb brushing against the teeth. He exhaled for a moment as [M/N] takes the first bite of his steak.
"I'm pregnant and it's yours and I want you to be present for us." Tim said casually as [M/N] flinched and choked, coughing into his fist as Tim nibbled on his own entree.
"I'm pregnant," Tim said, and he said it slowly, deliberately, watching [M/N]'s face the entire time, watching it changes slowly from the relaxed towards tense. "And it's yours. If you want proof, I can show you the test. I took pictures, and I'll get a paternity test done if that's what it takes."
The restaurant noise carried on around them, the low hum of other conversations, silverware against plates, music drifting from somewhere overhead by the other tables ahead of them, but at their table the sound seemed to stop entirely. [M/N]'s hands gripped the glass in his hand, nearly dropping it against the tablecloth.
It wasn't unlike Tim to say stuff, sometimes to bluff against the villains he faced. To make time depending on the situation at hand. But this was different, something that connected them both for all the wrong reasons. From the look on Tim's face too, made it seem that he wanted this. Wanted this mess.
"You want to keep it?" The question came out before he'd finished deciding to say what he was thinking, what he was feeling. His voice was lower, meaner than he intended. "Tim, this isn't something small. It isn't a project. It's a baby."
"I know what it is," Tim replied evenly, and rolled his eyes just slightly in the way he reserved for conclusions he considered beneath the conversation, how clueless his mate to be is. "That's why I'm sitting here telling you instead of handling it alone. It's a team effort. I want us to raise it together."
[M/N] wanted to flee. Take off like a bullet outside of Gotham, outside of New Jersey before Bruce could hear. The man is going to skin him alive. Right after his brothers and sister.
"...I have to use the restroom." He said standing up and carefully made his way to the bathroom so he could leave. Tim watched him go.
Tim didn't stop him. He sat with both hands wrapped loosely around his glass and his chin tilted slightly downward, and he watched [M/N] navigate between the tables toward the back of the restaurant to use the restroom. It was silly about how [M/N] was trying to leave him really, he knew he wouldn't go far or even disappear into space.
He would remind him. Gently, then less gently if that's what it took, over and over in whatever way was necessary until that fact was permanent in his brain. No one had ever successfully run from Tim once he'd decided to follow, and he had no particular reason to believe that would change now.Â
[M/N] would not leave him; he could never hide from him and that Tim will find him over and over again.
It was quite easy to track down his stupid mate. With all the money, connections and several calls later. He was in front of [M/N]'s apartment in New York. The man lived there by himself, no pets or close to neighbors. The building was tall and one of the nicer places that New York or Gotham could offer. He slides passed the doorman who was helping some lady into the taxi. Damian's sharp green eyes narrow to the buttons of the elevator as he hits the 8 floor.
The doors open and closed behind him as he checked his phone.
His fingers brushed away the text messages of his worried family members. He left a note if it was worth anything, that he was going to New York for something personal and that he'll be home soon, maybe around tonight at the earliest before patrol.
Damian swiped again and he walked out as soon as the doors opened. A dark grey hallway with plain red carpeting, he walked as he looked at the doors.
He stopped at 8F, he began smoothing out his clothes and his hair a bit to look less roughed. More like a normal young man, not some...well. He just wanted to look nice.
Damian gives short raps against the door with his knuckles. He could hear movement on the other side, the muffled shift of someone crossing a room, something set down on a hard surface.
The door creaks open inwardly, and Damian's expression relaxed because [M/N]'s scent came through the open doorway before anything else did, and the purr started itself somewhere low in his throat without asking for permission. He stopped it. Pushed it back down firmly and kept his expression where it was, relaxed and attempting to not show anything beside his stoicism.Â
[M/N] stood in the doorway in sweatpants and an old tank top with lettering across the front so faded it was barely readable anymore, wallet in hand, looking at him with an expression of complete and undefended dumbfounded.Â
"You're not the pizza delivery man," he said.
Damian snorted. He couldn't entirely help it. "I would hope not," he said, and stepped past him into the apartment. Some plain decor that reeks bachelor rather than Damian Wayne-Al Ghul's betrothed, it would need some work. Not that he would do it all, he'll allow [M/N] to have some say in the new look of the apartment. Or home if they decided to put down roots somewhere else in Gotham. Or if he's forced to, in their bedroom at Wayne Manor.
"Damian," [M/N] clears his throat as he closed the door and clicking the lock into place. "For one, why the hell are you here? This is New York. Second, come on in." He said the last part sarcastically as he walked behind the other man as he brushed his greying hand back.
"Your dad is going to lose his mind when he sees your phone signal this far out," [M/N] continued, coming to stand somewhere behind him. "You know that, right. He watches everything."
Damian said nothing to that immediately. He picked up one of the objects from the mantle, turned it once in his hand with careful, unhurried attention, and set it back exactly where it had been.
"Father isn't my handler," Damian exhaled through his nose as he sits down on [M/N]'s couch, his legs crossed over each other as his hands clasped and rested on his lap. "I'll be back soon but me and you need to have a conversation."
"Important enough to cross state lines?"
[M/N] rolled his eyes as he looked at the other and rubbed his temple as he felt a headache coming up. These Waynes and their inability to have human emotions or control. He sits down in his old lazy boy chair that Damian stared at with a dirty look. He leans into it, his head resting comfortably as he watched the other.Â
"I'm pregnant." Damian said before [M/N] could get a word out. It does in the back of his throat as he looked at him with wide eyes. "It's yours. I never believed myself to lay with just anyone septically the first time and my status that should be shameful."
[M/N]'s mouth open and closed, taken back with his words as his eyes focused on him. He could feel dots in the corner of his eyes as he heard the news. His mouth dry, hands felt heavy and skin prickled as he stared at Damian. He couldn't believe it; he stayed safe all his life from unwanted pregnancies once he figured out the art of fucking.
"You can't be." [M/N] could only mummer under his breath. Not that it was impossible, he has good swimmers. Just the sheer complex feelings he was feeling.
"Believe me I was surprised to find out."Â Damian said as he watched, tilting his head as he noticed how pale the other went. It was hilarious, new father jitters he supposed. "It's three months along and I could feel them growing each day. The hospital appointment is being handled at Gotham's finest in the city. I feel that the child is one, but it could be two."
"You're..." [M/N] sputters now. "You're an Alpha. A male one, it's nearly impossible."
The news turned him stupid it seems.
"Correct again," Damian hummed as his lips curled into a satisfied smirk as his eyes watched the other man closely. Just enjoying such powerful reactions, his emotions that were switching every few minutes on his face. "Maybe there is hope for our child yet."Â
[M/N] shakes his head with a light laugh leaving his lips, and Damian listens to it. Soft purring against the back of his throat as he watched the man with fondness. It seems like a good sign at least.
"Pack it up," [M/N] said confidently as he suppressed his mixed emotions. He would not be playing some twisted game with a Wayne, the prodigy of the Waynes. The only blood son. "I'm not playing daddy with you, god forbid raise a kid related to Bruce or worst, Ra al-Ghul. I don't want any part of this."
Damian scowls the second those words left his lips, well when he was practically yelled at with the word No. A familiar and unhealthy ache rubbed his chest wrong as his fingers gripped the fabric of his jeans as his eyes narrowed at the other as anger grew. He wanted to reach over and yanked his shirt, demanding him to eat those words before he makes him. Damian's fist closed now against his fingers.
"Watch your tongue," Damian hissed. "You should be grateful an al-Ghul would lay in bed with you."
[M/N] didn't react as he rubbed his forehead, exhaling a bit. "Whatever." He muttered.Â
"I'm not going to be the father to your baby, if you're even pregnant."
How beautifully stubborn his mate to be is. Damian adores him so much.
How ignorant of him to think he could stiff the Damian Wayne.
Terry McGinnis| Batman Beyond
That night was terrible; the wind and loud rain mixed with thunder that night in Neo-Gotham. It wasn't too bad, just noisy. In the apartment it was dark saved from the faint bangs of thunder outside, the faint flicker of the thunder and the phone charging beside his bed. [M/N] was asleep, tossing and turning under his covers as he rolled onto his stomach to ignore the noise. He wasn't bothered but it was his first week there in Gotham.
New school, the university he was accepted to and not because he was kicked out his parent's home. It wasn't totally full of malice, not at first. He's a young adult, that he could afford to pay for his life, to party and drink and fuck like rabbits with any pretty thing in a skirt.
Not until they told him that he was on his own, that they were blocking him for a year from their phones and email. His father would be polite if they need to work together but beside that, they were going to be gone from his life for a year.
No contact and [M/N] didn't fight back. How could he?
They at least helped him find a cheap apartment in the semi-safe part in Gotham. Helped him unload and wished him best of luck before heading home.
[M/N] finally opens his eyes and stared up at his ceiling before licking his dry lips. He slowly got up from his bed and yawns as his feet hit the carpet floor and began to slowly get up to get a drink of water. His eyes blurry as he rubbed the sleep out of them as he flicked on the kitchen light. His hand moving to the cabinet and pulled out a glass cup then the fridge door for the pitcher of cold water.
The kitchen wasn't like his at home, it was simple and had crappy wooden doors. The counters were fake and sometimes the oven didn't want to turn on. The landlord doesn't respond to his concerns or questions, so he deals with what he can.Â
Another flash of light outside with a loud roaring boom. [M/N] ignores it as he lifted up the glass and sipped his drink. He exhaled as it runs down his throat as he turns but stopped seeing something moving outside his locked window in the living room. He swore he saw movement behind the slightly parted blinds; it was something dark and went too fast for him to even see it.Â
His powers didn't go off, to feel another heartbeat within the area beside the ones that were clearly his neighbors. His powers always had that sense; his father could only explain it as the secret sense that could seek others around him. Close to be almost like Superman's super hearing in a way.
"Maybe it was a siren." [M/N] mutters as he rubbed his eyes again. Maybe he was just too sleepy, and his mind was playing games with him and decided to mess with him like this. He lets out another yawn as he took his glass and headed back to his bedroom. He shudders as he felt cold wind from his window.Â
Setting down the glass on his side bed table, he grumbles as he walked around his bed and glanced outside as his dark curtains fluttered around him from the wind's whipping. He could feel tiny drips of rain spraying against his hand as he glanced outside for extra measure to make sure he wasn't truly losing his mind in this second.
Left then right then left again before pulling back and closing the window. He locked it as another loud clap of thunder echo outside and rain continued to fall. He opened it only a little bit and didn't expect it to make the room feel cooler and a mess on the floor.
[M/N] moved and exhaled as he crawls back into bed and rolled over onto his back. He pulled the covers up and against his chest as he laid his head against the pillow with a yawn leaving his lips as he got comfortable. The heavy feeling of sleep pulling back into the dreamless and dark world until morning.
His eyes stared at his ceiling as he slowly began to close his eyes and exhaling through his nose. He was alert then he began to feel tired, and he was back to asleep. [M/N]'s body was slacked and soft noises leaves through his nose.
Terry watched from the corner of his room, pulling his mask back to show his dark hair. His suit completely wet and dripping but he ignored it as he moved forwards slowly. The carpet muffled each step he took towards the men on the bed. He searched through Bruce's old contacts, pretended to be a worried friend for [M/N] to his parents, the original lovebug father.
The older man spilled and Terry followed the trail until seeing him.Â
He walked towards the bed carefully, his hands on the bed as he slowly crawls on his hands and knees as he moved to [M/N]. His eyes watching his face as he slowly moving against his side, he knew the man was awake, he felt him stiffen but refused to open his eyes as he pressed against him. His wet suit clung to the sheets and [M/N]'s arms and shoulder. Terry pressed his face against [M/N]'s shoulder.
"You better get used to this," Terry whispered as he inhales against his neck and sighs. The scent was soothing to him; it wasn't too much of anything and just smelling him so close relaxed his body. "After nine months, it's gone."
[M/N] didn't move, he could feel Terry's body on him. How his wet suit was causing the blanket and his shirt to feel soaked from the rainwater. Just faintly but his body trying to relax and figure how to handle this. He didn't think Terry was some creep like this.
Terry's fingers, they were cover by the Batman suit as they caressed [M/N]'s cheeks, moving over the flesh as they drifted over his lips and traced them carefully. His eyes doing the rest all over [M/N]'s face, taking every detail from the man to his memory. His cheeks flushed as he pressed closer to him for warmth and his scent that soothes him, sooths the baby.
"I didn't think I would want kids," Terry whispered. "I saw my mom handling Matt, my dad too. They were always up all hours of the night taking care of him. He was loud, annoying, cried too much and puked way too much. My mom was the worst state then my dad, my dad at least had to go out for work but my poor mom."
He sighs as he nuzzled his nose against [M/N]'s soft cheek with another smile pulling.Â
"But you're you. The Lovebug," Terry whispered. The Lovebug loves everyone, loves anything, protects when he can. [M/N] wouldn't reject him, he would accept this without question. Accept him. Accept their baby. "You love me and love our baby."
[M/N] didn't like the sound of that, not what Terry dreamed of. He couldn't just move; he wasn't that heartless even if Terry was lying about being pregnant, he would hurt the fetus. A fetus that was part of him.
But all he could do is lay still, breath like he was asleep even if Terry knew he was awake and freak out later once he was up.
Surprisingly there weren't a lot of heroes in the Watchtower, maybe ten at best. He glides through the hallway as he heads towards [M/N] who was currently in the training room. He could smell him, his strong pheromonesâCajun spice and leather with small hints of lemonâIt was unique of the hero and something Clark wanted to smell over and over again. It was different from the usual smells that Clark learned to ignore as a young pup himself, it never worked due to the gifts from his planet.
It wasn't his fault that he could smell everyone's scent from hundreds of yards away, even further when he was in High School. In a way it was easier to catalogue scents, like the ones of his teammates, co-workers, family, enemies.Â
Clark's ears perked up hearing the noise inside of [M/N] sparing against whatever hologram was playing for him. His hands smoothed his hair back, fixing the black and anything that strayed when he left for space. His suit dusted off quickly of anything that hung on him, his nails brushed over his teeth to make sure no sandwich or hardware nails were stuck between his gums.
His hand brushed over his stomach as the doors opens, they slide to show [M/N] standing there. A towel around his neck and patting off the sweat that made Clark's thighs quiver from the smell coming off him. His scent cascading down his body, enhance by the sweat and made Clark feel a bit woozy. Want to place his mouth against [M/N]'s neck and lick up, to shower in his scent and mix theirs together.
"Crap," [M/N] said. "Sorry Clark."Â
He moves away thinking Clark was going to train himself inside the training room. He moved to the side and Clark meets him, [M/N] gives a pleasant and polite smile, moving to the right and Clark follows. He tried left then right but Clark copies him, by accident he hoped.
"Clark." [M/N] raised his voice a bit, his patience breaks the fourth time him and Clark copied each other's movements. His hands raised as he looked to the man, his eyebrows raising in a tired expression that was hinting towards annoyance. "What are you doing?"
The man of steel hesitated for a second as he looked at [M/N], the way his face looked so handsome. How he could smell the annoyance from his scent, it curls around them like a thick warm blanket and something Clark didn't want to leave from. It felt different from how it felt with Jon, from Lois.
Jon wanted warmth, a lot of it when he was a baby growing in Lois but also his scent. Clark remembers the many times, rain or shine, back from work as a reporter or hero that Lois wanted his smell. The baby wanted his smell.
Maybe this baby in him, in a womb that wasn't natural wanted [M/N]'s scent? It was a biological thing between two people, two mates who are going to share life with a baby, a pup.Â
"Baby." Clark said but freezes up, a pink flush crept on his face as [M/N]'s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "I mean, I'm having a baby."
"Oh?" [M/N] looked to him. He was surprised that Clark was going to be having another baby especially since him and Lois had divorced but on good terms. Maybe the Alpha had found himself a nice woman, or an omega of any sex. The hero attracts everyone from [M/N]'s memory, no one usually resisted to the Alpha's charm and scent. "Congratulations. Who's the special lady-"
[M/N]'s eyes blinked, dark eyes going small as he heard him. "How-?" Again, Clark hesitated and moved his hands that gripped [M/N]'s hands. His blue eyes looked into [M/N]'s, genuine and hopeful that made [M/N]'s stomach churned with fear and anxiety for a moment.Â
"You're the father. When we both slept together three months ago." Clark reminded as a cold dread went down [M/N]'s spine. It felt like the air from his lungs had exasperated and it was hard to focus on Clark in front of him. His legs felt like dumbbells and felt like he was sinking into the floor below him, if it weren't for Clark's hands holding him there. "That night...was amazing."
"Clark, buddy." [M/N] tried to snap Clark out of whatever daydream he had. The gleam in his blue eyes, the smile he had on his lips made him agitated. "Clark you can't possibly think I want this. Want you?"
"Of course you do," Clark responded as he rubbed his cheek against [M/N]'s callous hands. His nose sniffed the sweat that was on his fingers, how rough they felt against his face and how they made his body quiver. "Everyone wants me."
[M/N]'s throat bobbles as he looked at him, his eyes wide in the complete and utterly stupid responses he heard in years. Even criminals made more sense than this. His hands, shaky in Clarks' grip was shaking even more when Clark's tongue trails over his empty ring finger, nipping against the flesh.Â
"[M/N]!" Diana calls out somewhere down the hallway. "Come on, we need you for this mission. We need to have you help negotiate."
Thank Hera! Thank you, Diana.
"Duty calls." [M/N] gives a smile as Clark returns it as [M/N] quickly moved away, zipping down the hallway after the Amazon Princess to head out. Clark watched him as his hands moved on his stomach, a little bump if he pressed his palm down but he could imagine how big the child was at the moment.Â
He could x-ray himself but decided against it at the moment, the baby wouldn't be that big and he might scare it by seeing it at this private moment. Clark was growing his fingers, his heart and other parts. The small stuff a doctor could see on a screen.Â
"I hope you're a girl." Clark hummed as his hand brushed over his suit.Â
The alarm screeched into [M/N]'s ear first thing in the morning.
His hand searched for the alarm and slammed his hand down onto it, it groans but shuts up as he slowly blinks as his eyes adjusted to the ceiling. His hands moved to rub his eyes from sleep as he slowly sat up, and the covers drifted down onto his lap as he yawns. [M/N]'s eyes adjusted to the sun and the warmth that was peeking out from the dark blue curtains. He could hear the animals awake and greeting each other under the sun with their noises and somewhere far was the sound of a tractor.
[M/N]'s body stretches as his feet meet the cold wood under him. He shivered as his body wakes up, he smiles lazily but stops. His hands freezing from rubbing his neck and his eyes staring at the window.
Animals? Tractor? Blue curtains?Â
"What the fuck!" [M/N] shrieks as leaps onto his feet on the wooden floor. His eyes moved down to his pajamas, which was his from the stains from his dinner last night, and around the room that was not his. It was too homey, unlike his modern furniture in his Apartment. No signs of his Funko Pops, no anime or game posters that hung on the wall and no desk with his university homework or his PC.Â
There was a knock on the door that nearly made [M/N] leap out of his skin when he heard it. His hands scrambled to grip the bed.
"Hey, Hon." Kon's voice drifted from the other side of the door. Dread melted into instant relief in [M/N]'s body. He had been purposely ignoring Kon since the entire sleeping together mistake three months ago. [M/N] was embarrassed and confused with his feelings for his teammate, how he saw Kon really. His heart still pounds as he looked at the door. "Breakfast is ready. It took me a while and several burnt pancakes, but it's done."
"Kon?" [M/N] voice calls out gently. He moves to the door slowly; his hand rested on the wood as his eyes stared at the doorknob. "Why am I here?"
The clone chuckles for a moment.
"For a surprised, we have tons of things to talk about." Kon said as it left [M/N] even more confused than before. "Come on down, the folks are out doing work or at work."
[M/N] opens the door to see the blur of red, blue and black head downstairs. His hands fumbled a bit as he closed the door behind him and headed down the stairs, taking two steps at a time as he made it to the landing. His steps following Kon towards the kitchen as he could smell the breakfast he made settle on the counter.
It wasn't like crepes in France or anything that spectacular.Â
Pancakes with fruit on the top with syrup and butter slowly spilling over the rim of the crisp brown pancake. Three pieces of bacon was beside it, brown and crispy with some steam leaving it still. Next to those was two eggs over easy, the ends brown and the yolk perfectly content in the middle.Â
"Coffee or milk?" Kon asked as he placed their plates down on the dining table adjacent to the kitchen. He was wearing Ma Kent's apron, it looked snugged in all the right places, and he looked good in it. [M/N] wouldn't admit it though.
"Kon what the hell is going on?" [M/N] asked. His eyebrows furrowing with a scowl. "Why am I here? Did you kidnap me?" He asked as Kon's boots landed on the tiles in the kitchen and undoes the apron before hanging it up on the hook. "Dude-"
"I'm pregnant." Kon announced to the other, his hands clasped together with a grin as [M/N]'s face falls. "I got too excited and didn't know how to say it without it being too.... impersonal. Tim suggested that I make it straight to the point, Cass said that I should announce it online and Bart was too busy on the game and asked if when was breakfast."
He gestures to the breakfast cooling on the table.Â
"So, I basically made all three! Sort of." Kon gives a smile as [M/N]'s hands clenched up into his pajama shirt while looking to the other. He tries to give him that dazzling smile that wooed [M/N] that night three months ago. It worked well to break down [M/N]'s pre-rut spell between not wanting Kon or needing something tight and hot to shove his dick into.Â
"A pup? You're having a p-pup?" [M/N]'s voice falters as Kon nods his head.
"We," Kon corrected as he turns his back to grab a glass to fill it with milk. "Are having a pup."
He turns and [M/N] was gone from the kitchen. He pouts a bit before he speeds out, the glass on the counter as he left the home as [M/N] was a good two feet away from the home and was trying to take off but Kon was faster. He pressed down the Alpha into the dirt; some cars rattle and chickens clucked loudly from the hard pounced into the ground.
"That wasn't very bright." Kon exhaled as he stood up, he wiped the dirt and grass off his jacker as his hand gripped [M/N]'s ankle. He pulled him even as [M/N]'s fingers curled into the grass, feeling Kon tug him more. "Come on baby, it isn't going to be that bad. We just need to have an adult one to one talk."
"No! Get off me!" [M/N] cried out, his fingers gripping the dirt. He has powers sure, but they weren't going to outrun, out beat a hybrid. "Please!" Hoping the ground would anchor him into the soils and the bugs and such. He didn't know who was begging, Kon to let go or the Earth to save him.
Kon sighs as he kept dragging [M/N], moving towards the farmhouse. "How embarrassing, geez."Â
"That's not my baby! You're sick!" [M/N] voiced as he looked over his shoulder, his body being dragged against the grass and dirt. "Kon!"
"Yap, yap, yap." Kon said with a shrug. It didn't sting at all, no way. He has the prize inside him and growing each day. "You think I really care what you think? You have responsibilities outside a student and hero. You're going to be a father." He said with another grin pulling on his lips.
"After all, where could you go?" He said as he pulled the front door of the home. "Where you think I can't find you? Can't smell you?"
