Behold! A squeaky toy!

He held on the banister of the stairs as short breathes leave his mouth in quick bursts that made his mouth dry and his throat ich, but Tim that if he sat down to rest, he would not have enough strength to get up again.

Which was fine. That only meant that he should continue to walk.

Just until he would be able to… find. What he was looking for.

(What was it again?)

His mind felt muddled, each one of his thoughts coming and going as if hidden behind clouds. Heavy, rainy clouds that did not let him catch his thoughts back and dissolved (like acid, ohhh, maybe that is why they made acidic rain) them even before Tim had the chance to think them anyway. Which was unfair and probably illegal. Because those were his thoughts and it was not nice that clouds were getting into a life of crime. Someone had to warn Batman about them.

A loud, high-pitched sound cut him from his lack of thoughts (give them back) and it took an embarrassing long time for Tim to realize that the distressed whines were coming from him. Quickly, he pushed himself away from the stairs and stumbled even further on the dimmed hallway (far, far away from those bright lights and loud sounds and sharp smells and not safe, he had to hide).

His heart stuttered on his chest as he waited with a batted breath for someone suddenly jump from behind a door and catch him or drag him away from his research because Tim was too much of an irresponsible puppy to just stay properly quiet and hidden.

(They wouldn’t catch him, though, they couldn’t. Tim was fast. He was nimble and good in disappearing in the shadows but now he was in the open and alone and vulnerable. Where was his pack, please-)

He caught himself before a louder whine -or even worse, a keen – escaped. Then, suddenly, he found it.

The smell.

It was stronger than before. Stale, but trustworthy and it held a undercut sharpness of spices that Tim would be sure he could recognize from miles away. Even though he could not remember now where (or who) it came from, it was enough to make something deep inside Tim’s instincts grow agitated. It wiggled and blossomed in a desperate need to be closer to it because it knew it would keep him safe.

With the new burst of energy, Tim pushed himself towards it. His precision was thin as it took more and more of his concentration to keep those weird sounds (why did he keep trying to do them? He would get caught) from escaping as he came closer and closer to his destiny.

After what it felt like forever following the (safety, comfort, help) smell, Tim finally pushed open the tall, large oak door and quickly slipped inside before it closed behind him.

That was when the simple wall of scents hit him and something deep inside his soul thrilled in happiness at the richness, the care, the pure sense of pack woven intrinsically in every part of it. It filled his senses with such a calmness that he sagged on the same place, suddenly feeling very sleepy.

He walked closer, feeling almost dazed, mind now blissfully calm in the face of the success of his hunt. In the middle of the room there was a dipped hole in the floor, full of the fluffiest blankets, large, flat pillows and fabric, all colorful and scented, with high walls and the necessary space to burrow yourself away, a complete opposite of the straight floorboards and bare bed Tim grew up accustomed to.

This is a nest, Tim thought, an air of reverence falling on the words even on the quietness of his mind. An actual, true, well built nest.

It was not perfect, of course, Tim would have to tell them just how important of sturdy ceilings and false entrances for pack nests were to lull predators away. He could even make a presentation, ask a few fabrics, just one or two thin blankets if he could, and give them a demonstration.  He could show them then how comfy you could feel when you could burrow and burrow yourself away and know that nothing could ever find you there if you didn’t want to.

Yes.

Tim falls on the floor, adjusting just enough to rest his back on the wall closest to the border of the nest. It was the most he could approach without having permission to get into it, but he didn’t even care. The thing in his chest was finally calm enough to let him breathe slowly again.

Besides, by the partial shadow given by the window, this was the perfect position keep him concealed while Tim still had a clear vision of the door and could defend the room from any intruders.

Good.

Tim could… he could stay here. Vigilant. He would protect the nest. And make notes of how to make it even more secure. It was already a good nest, a very, very good, very soft-looking nest but it could be perfect and like this Tim could be very useful. He was smart and fast and nimble. He could even just curl in some corner and disappear, if they want. Just take a few centimeters of the nest and stay quiet until they forgot he was there. He was the best at this.

(At being useful. Disappearing. Becoming anything they needed.)

Yes. That was it.

Tim will show them how a perfect packmate he would be.

(…)

Jason blinks, but the scene in front of him do not change.

He at first thought it was a hallucination when he went to investigate the strangely alluring smell to his pack’s den. But it didn’t even blur or tilted, something he would expect if he gotten himself somewhat drugged during the gala.

Which means that what he was seeing right now was actually something real and not some plot from a new supervillain in Gotham.

Huh.

So. That really was a whole ass kid.

He turned off the light, then turned it on again.

Yep. Still there.

The tiny puppy (holy shit, they were really, really tiny and really, really puppy, all compact and with the biggest squishy cheeks known to man) kept snoring away on the floor of the den. It was currently so curled in themself that Jason had first thought it to be just an old suit he had dropped in the hurry of getting ready for the gala at first before he realized the bundle was actually breathing.

The realization that a kid had somehow managed to dodge all the security guards put in place to prevent the guests from “accidentally” adventuring in the deeper and private parts of the Wayne Masion was somehow both impressive and slightly annoying.

Before Jason could focus too much on it, though, a tiny, poorly muffled and unfairly adorable calling chirp left the puppy. It was… sad, and also extremely quiet. That muffled kind of sadness kids usually got in the street when they knew no matter how much you called your pack, they could not answer.

Something in Jason’s chest clicked and he answered.

Well.

It was Robin’s duty to save those in need, right?

(…)

Bruce sighed.

“Jason.”

The pup only snuggled his precious cargo harder, barely even stopping the walk to his room to stare deep into Bruce’s eyes as he rubbed the scent glands under his chin on the top of the younger’s hair in a clear claiming and a loud challenge.

Even asleep, Tim purred weakly at the affection and nuzzled his neck back, reciprocating the scent marking with a gleeful yip. Somehow, he manages to cling even harder on Jason after this. Were him to be awake, Bruce knew for sure that the puppy would already be snuggling under Jason’s (actually Dick’s) hoodie so only the tuff of his hair and two wide blue eyes would be visible as he peeked around the room.

It was absurdly adorable and it also made Bruce guilty of wanting to have the puppy in his embrace and never let him go.

Unfortunately, by principle, Bruce still had to lead with a good example. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Please stop kidnapping the neighbor’s kid.”

Jason gasped, although keeping the dramatic flair a notch quieter to not bother his cargo. “Woah, I see the hypocrisy! When Batman does it, it’s called adoption, now when I do it suddenly it is kidnapping. Shame on you, old man.”

Bruce simply stared back at him expressionless, sighing inwards at the excuse he would have to make to call another meeting with his lawyers to needle them about pushing the adoption process faster.

It would be good to have it all finally sorted soon and finally have the boy fully living in the manor, where Bruce knew he was cared for and safe, happy with his brothers and his pack.

Besides, if they did not hurry there were high chances that Jason’s (and his own inner omega) instincts got the better of him and his pup no longer waited for the middle of the night to go “collect” his newer brother to the pack’s nest.

It was no matter. As long as Bruce knew, the Drakes had just embarked to another travel anyway.

(…)

Ever since then, after courts ended and papers were filled, years had passed and Timothy Drake-Wayne had officially been adopted by Bruce Wayne and his pack.

However, some habits never really die.

Dick shouted at the head that appeared, not unlike a horror movie, on his laundry basket. He had just finally got over his procrastination to gather the newly washed nest blankets from the pile Alfred had masterfully folded there in the morning when a particularly difficult pull suddenly revealed the head of his youngest brother.

The face scrunched up before blinking at him sluggishly, completely oblivious at the way he had almost killed his poor older brother with a heart attack before he could even turn twenty.

Dick clutched at his chest dramatically. Tim furrowed his brow grumpily at him as if his reaction was completely senseless and tried to burrow back under the soft, still warm and fresh pile, hissing once in irritation at the disturbance.

“Nope, nope, nope, stop.” Tim hissed once at the further disturbance, but Dick simply continued to pull the blankets unrepented. “I have a fully, soft and with plenty of space nest right here, baby bird.”

Dick quickly grabbed more comforter and pillows, digging his newly little brother from them, who sagged in his hold like an awfully cute and annoyed bag of potatoes.

“But, comfy.”

Dick retorted. “I am actually begging you, just get in the nest next time and stop taking naps in random places in my room.”

Tim hums dubiously, not taking long before he was lost in purrs and snuggles as Dick laid on the nest with him, scenting and snuggling his brother who very contently buried himself under his chin, curling on his chest like the total adorable gremlin he was.

Dick sighed, exasperated and fond, as he answered him with his own loud purrs.

Maybe his words would actually stick this time.

(…)

Alfred sighed, partially fond and not surprised when two intelligent eyes blinked drowsily at him from his bundled pile on a surprisingly high shelf.

“Master Tim, I am afraid that, although big, this closet is better suited to keep only our curtains and not puppies.”

The little one made a confused soft sound before his words seemed to register and he pulled himself up to a sitting position, mouth opening in a big yawn. “S’rry, Alfred.” He gave the fabric a stray kneading before pulling himself up with what seemed a herculean and practiced effort, completely oblivious of the havoc he put the entire family for hours when they couldn’t find his whereabouts after he went home earlier from school due an emergency on the fire alarm and neglected to warn any of the Manor’s occupants.

"As long as you keep it in mind, Master Tim.” He ushered the boy from his spot, attentive to how he descended the shelf in both a safety precaution to not let him fall and thoughtful of how he could avoid similar misunderstandings of repeating on the future.

With a grounding hand lightly laid on his shoulder blades, Alfred guided him to Master Bruce’s office, where he was sure they could find Bruce reviewing their cameras footage.

(…)

Jason had just sat on the couch when he felt a light tap on his head that quickly disappeared with in a shutter click of happy-play feeling. Immediately he grinned, his scent rushed across the room with adrenaline and excitement as he accepted the invitation.

Another tap and a quiet giggly yip and a plan were already forming in his mind.

…

Tim risked a peak from his hideout. He wished he had a mirror so he could use it to surveil around the room before risking his cover, but Batman never let himself give up in the face of adversities and Tim would not let himself give up as well.

His opponent was competitive and Tim was sure he would not let an opportunity to strike back, so when minutes upon minutes went by without any sound coming from Jason, he began to grow worried.

There had been a previous shot of playful intent when Tim first called him to play not by words, but by their instincts (even if he was still learning to listen and understand them) but now the comforting scent of spices had already dulled, maybe being subdued by Jason himself or fading away naturally with his absence.

(He ignored the quiet part of him that whine despondently at the very likely possibility that Jason had simply grow bored from his childishness and decided to step out without any warning.)

Even so, Tim would not be careless!

First, he snuck a hand from behind the couch and tapped it quickly on the wall before pulling it back, waiting for an attack.

When nothing happened, he repeated his experiment with an entire arm, then both of his hands, then his arms. The lack of any sounds outside or attacks made him feel bold enough to try his first escapade.

But what if it was all a ploy to get him with his barriers low? Tim wiggled in place, suddenly excited at the chance. Of course! Jason was training to spend hours quietly on lookouts, he of course could not be easily underrated!

Tim analyzed his options. Not having any bait minimized his plans to just a few steps, but he knew exactly what to do!

Adjusting himself, Tim began to venture out, legs first. It was the perfect plan. If any suspicious sound happened, all he had to do is give a few good kicks and crawl back to his perfect safe heaven.

Unfortunately, his brilliant brain forgot to account for one very important detail: he was a walking tickle spot.

Just as his waist passed from behind the couch, he heard a loud thump.

With a triumphant shout Jason draped himself on Tim’s legs, quick to drill his thumbs on the back of his thighs in a manner he knew always made Dick go crazy with laughter, evilly crackling when it resulted in a loud squawk, a river of hysterical giggles tumbling from Tim as he began to try in vain to pull his legs back from his ticklish clutches and crawl back to his hidden behind the couch.

“Gotcha, Timbit! Betcha thought you had escaped me, huh? Nah, kiddo, we’re just getting started.”

“Yohohohou’re a kid tohohoho!” Tim squealed, equally excited and afraid. “Ahahahalfred!”

“Hey! You cheater! There’s no Alfred ta save you this time, TimTacToe. But know this betrayal will not be forgotten!” Jason only cackled more, light and lightning-fast pinches raining all across Tim’s thighs, each attack calculated to find out each one of his new littlest brother’s most ticklish spots so he could keep the family tradition of tickling the snort out of the family puppy going.

Unintelligible words answered him. Snickers grew louder and stronger as he continued his tickles, alternating between fast string of wheezy giggles when he skittered across his thighs and then changing to unstoppable chuckles when he kneaded both at the same time, legs kicking more the closer Jason got to the back of his knees.

Experimentally, Jason swiped a single finger across the spot.

The resounding screech he received was all the encouragement Jason needed. A devilish grin opened wide in his face and he wasted no time before honing all of his attention in exploring every inch of the incredibly sensitive skin, immensely amused at the reactions each different kind of tickle could gather from Tim, who lately seemed set on following their dad into a brooding, serious and workaholic path.

Not on Jason’s watch.

(Now he kind of get why Dick was such a vicious tickle monster. This was fun.)

Jason began by softly scribbling from the end of his thighs, just above his knees, barely letting his nails tease the ticklish spot before crawling up once more to squeeze his thighs, until it took just a hint of his hands wiggling close to the underside of the puppy’s knees for him to lose himself into bubbly, dizzy giggles.

That was the time he decided to finally have pity from the red faced, squirming little worm that wormed his way to that weird family and destroy his knees with all the tickles in the world. Nibbling pinches, scratching and skittering, all running from up and down, back and forth, in swirling patterns and random scribbles that didn’t let a single place un-tickled or forgotten.

Tim was in a frenzy, his snickers blossomed into strident squeals and squeaks that descended in loud laughter, interrupted by thrilling yips each time Jason randomly jumped from one knee to the other, sometimes letting one hand poke and tickle the underside while the other clawed at the kneecap.

“JAHAHAHAHAHAHAY!”

“Yeah, Timbo?”

“IHIHIHIHIT’S F-FUNNYHIHIHIHI!” The puppy squealed, his laughter taking a wheezy turn that made Jason jump wiggle his hands to his calves, scratching softly the spot and letting his younger brother take tittering, but calmer, gulps of air. “Tihihihihihickles!”

Jason snorted. “You say?”

It took more control that he would admit to not start to giggle together with Tim as the younger tried to muffle another round of bright, mirthful giggles on his arms, nodding in answer.

Instead, Jason abruptly rolled from his place on Tim’s legs to sit next to him, fully enjoying the fact that Tim’s mind was too much scrambled by the tickling for him to notice his newfound freedom.

(Was he a bad brother for taking advantage of the clear way the little guy was clearly unaccustomed to tickle fights? Nah. Really, Jason was helping him. That scrawly puppy wouldn’t last a day in Dick’s tickly clutches.)

Even so, before Tim had any chance to turn around and discover the vantages of revenge, Jason drilled on the middle of his right knee, huffing a laughter at the shriek it fished, and how Tim leg were quick to draw up, locking his hand in place.

“DON’T DO THAT!”

“Don’t do what, Timberlina? This?” He scratched at the underside of his knee, smirking at the screeching giggles it got.

“Or maybe you meant that?” Then, he drilled on the spot, a strident shriek cutting the air before more laughter tumbled across the room.

Scratching then drilling, scratching then drilling. It took a couple more of rounds until Tim gathered enough brain power to answer him.

“BOTH!”

“Both? Hmm, nah.” A laughing scream, which was completely uncalled for since Jason decided to show mercy and not attack both of his knees at the same time. “It’s not my fault! You hafta let me go if you want me to stop! Until then I will just stay right here.” He drilled his fingers to highlight his words.

Another half panicked and half excited shriek. The puppy wiggled from one side to another, face trying to burrow more and more on his arms, which did absolutely nothing to muffle the mirthful sounds. “Ihihihihihi ca-ahahahahahan’t!”

“You can’t? Why didn’t you say it before, huh?”

Electricity ran down Tim’s spine as he recognized the tune every Robin had when they had just successfully trusted an opponent into a trap and were very delighted to take full advantage of that.

“Let me help you, then.”

With his other hand, Jason latched on Tim’s calf and began squeezing the ticklish muscle unrelenting, until Tim, with a surprised loud screech that took every ounce of air from his lungs, tried to kick his trapped leg as far away from the tickling hand as he could.

When he tried to breath amidst his laughter, it was too sudden that it made a snort ring clear in the air.

Jason barked a laugh, delighted.

“Ohohoho, Timtam. Is that a snort that I hear?”

Tim wiggled even more, dizzy, completely loopy with laughter.

“NOHOHOHOHO! GO ‘WAHAHAHY!!”

“No can do! Do it again!”

Then it became a similar game of tug-of-war. Jason would unleash a scratching and scribbling attack on the underside of his knees, even sneak two or three squeezes on his kneecap, until Tim was too much lost in wheezing, tittering snickers to stop his leg from curling back up in an attempt to protect the spot. Which, in turn, would leave it just in the perfect position for Jason to knead in short bursts of squeezes up and down, again and again, on the meat of his calf, prying more snorting laughter that would leave the young puppy more and more red in the face.

Eventually, Tim went completely boneless on the floor, his giggles petering out as Jason also began to slow down his attack. A part of his heart melted a bit at the bubbling titters that just a little skittering on his ankles brought.

“Tihihickles.”

But he had enough for today.

Jason got up and grinned at the half-hidden puppy, only now realizing that even his arms where red beyond his face and ears. Poor kiddo was really both a walking blushing tickle spot. May Gotham have pity of his soul because Dick and Bruce would certainly not.

“Yeah, yeah, Timbo. Now, get outta there so I can finish reading you The Hobbit.”

He narrowed his eyes when, instead of some snark or giggly protest, all he heard was quiet breathing. Tim began curling and burrowing on himself, with a soft, almost inaudible content purr shaking his frame, milky scent going soft-happy-safe.

…. It was exactly what he did before going to sleep.

Quickly, Jason swooped down and began pulling him out of the hidden spot from his legs.

Tim grumbled, yipping once in surprise as Jason jolted him before turning a frown at his direction. It was completely futile with those big pouting cheeks and eyes that still twinkled brightly in amusement the entire time, stray giggles escaping when Jason shook his legs and pulled him once more, sneaking a single scribble on the sole of his feet before the other began looking drowsy again.

“Nope. Not taking a nap here, we have nests! Choose one now before I decide we’re actually reading Jane Austen.”

“I choose a new brother.” Aaaand there was the snark.

“Huh?” Jason answered absently as one hand slowly crawled in the direction of the sole of his foot. “Did you just say ‘I want to be tickled to a snorting mess again’?”

Tim squealed, voice already taking over a giddy tune. “The library nest!”

“A wise choice, Timbers.”

[~*~]

Fun Facts and Stuff!

In the Batfam Tim is the one who makes the mostly structurally sound nests, usually with a “ceiling” and a small, hidden hole to get in and out which allows him to borrow himself and “disappear”. Possibly a consequence of not having anyone to “protect” his nest which made him adapt it to be the most easily hidden thing.

Don’t like making mock nests and feel insecure to step into other’s nest without explicit permission but any other soft, accessible space to nap is free state.

The members of the Wayne family lost the count of times they almost stumbled on Tim because he decided that since he didn’t have permission to step into the nest he will just pass out right outside of it.

At some point it stops being something out of insecurity and more Tim being a Little Shit and deciding that is funny to scare his brothers by sneaking in the closet and sleeping amidst their clothes, crawling from under their bed in the middle of the night, almost falling on them from the top of the fridge during a midnight snack run etc.

Got a bit too much fun thinking about Tim building nests and now I say that his nests actually have TWO entrances, a false, more obvious one and a hidden one, a design inspirated by chapim-pendulino (Remiz pendulinus) and also a fruit of having too much time and no chill <3

Ya know how puppies have to full-body wiggles when they are too happy.

Tim doing that when being tickled.

I will not elaborate <3 <3 <3 he is happy dancing yipeee

Img of the day!

through the article-like start of the fic it was already obvious this one was gonna be about tim lmaao. By the way, I KNEW THERE WOULD BE ANGST, BUT I WASN'T EXPECTING IT RIGHT AT THE BEGINNING 😭😭

[Someone had to warn Batman about them.] please please please that's a baby. somebody come get this baby 😭

[After what it felt like forever following the (safety, comfort, help) smell, Tim finally pushed open the tall, large oak door and quickly slipped inside before it closed behind him.] tim 🤝 goldilocks "yes. this is my house now."

[It was not perfect, of course, Tim would have to tell them just how important of sturdy ceilings and false entrances for pack nests were to lull predators away.] BABY WHY DO YOU KNOW THIS?? 💔 omfg he really had no one

[He was the best at this. (At being useful. Disappearing. Becoming anything they needed.)] Yes i'm ok don't mind me I'm just gonna

[The tiny puppy (holy shit, they were really, really tiny and really, really puppy, all compact and with the biggest squishy cheeks known to man) kept snoring away on the floor of the den.] LITTLE BROTHER ACQUIRED!!!!!! :D I love how he turned the light off and on again like he thought Tim was a ghost or something AHWJDHSHDJ

[Bruce sighed.] dad with the puppy he didn't want, seconds later: [It was absurdly adorable and it also made Bruce guilty of wanting to have the puppy in his embrace and never let him go.]

[Bruce simply stared back at him expressionless, sighing inwards at the excuse he would have to make to call another meeting with his lawyers to needle them about pushing the adoption process faster.] WAIT WAIT WAIT WHOSE ADOPTION PROCESS?? TIM'S??? WAS HE ALREADY LOOKING INTO ADOPTING TIM BEFORE THAT? BECAUSE THAT IS THE SWEETEST AND ALSO THE MOST TRAGIC THING

[It was no matter. As long as Bruce knew, the Drakes had just embarked to another travel anyway.] YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS

[“But, comfy.”] astronomically powerful argument little buddy you're so right

[The little one made a confused soft sound before his words seemed to register...after he went home earlier from school due an emergency on the fire alarm and neglected to warn any of the Manor’s occupants.] this whole paragraph has me cooing, HE'S LIKE A KITTY CAT

[(even if he was still learning to listen and understand them)] THIS LITTLE DETAIL YOU ADDED WAS SO GOOD, he actually has people to teach him about these things now ❤️ ❤️

[legs kicking more the closer Jason got to the back of his knees.] I GET YOU BUDDY THAT SPOT IS A KILLER

[“Don’t do what, Timberlina? This?”] [“Or maybe you meant that?”] MEAN!!!!! tim's probably never played around this way before and he's already getting the full experience the poor thang

[May Gotham have pity of his soul because Dick and Bruce would certainly not.] oohh I take back what I said, this one is gonna have A Time when Dick or Bruce go into tickle monster mode

[Tim began curling and burrowing on himself, with a soft, almost inaudible content purr shaking his frame, milky scent going soft-happy-safe.] LOOK AT HIM ALL SLEEPY AAAAWWWWWW

Clearly had been planned in advance, it came in the very moment Bruce acquiesced with his ward’s pleas and moved to follow the little pup on the plush ground, already feeling the phantom soreness his back would hold in the morning.

He barely had enough time to adjust himself on the thrown pillows before a triumphant thrill broke the air and a young boy with black hair and shiny, vivid blue eyes threw himself at him, taking over his lap with self-satisfied purrs so loud they almost shook the younger’s chest with their strength.

Bruce lifted one eyebrow when those electric eyes stared at him in challenge, the corner of his lip twitching to tilt upwards in amusement when Dick considered his lack of protest a victory for itself and chirped once smugly.

His movements were enthusiastic as he began to pull the thrown blanked from the couch to Bruce’s lap and he started maneuvering himself to be able wave the soft fabric across and under Bruce’s leg without getting up in the fear of losing his upper hand.

The mystery of Dick’s previous run to his room right after the dinner and fashion decision to use a large hoodie in the middle of summer was finally solved as he began pulling a black shirt that Bruce had “lost” a few days ago and a couple of Alfred’s gloves from under it, scents mingling in a way that made Bruce’s inner omega preen and rumble approvingly at his smart pup’s choices.

As he perched himself on one of his legs, Dick began to organize his stolen goods across the pillows that formed the base of his mock nest on Bruce’s lap, one or two concentrated chitters flying here and there as he adjusted the fabric at his liking, leaving the middle bare for himself and the clothes closest to the edge, a clear instinct to show anyone who dared to approach that the puppy was clearly well watched and protected by a pack.

Here and there, a puppish growl filled the air as a clothe didn’t fold or spread quickly enough for his liking, promptly answered by Bruce’s soothing rumble.

When Bruce tried to help by pulling a pillow closer, however Dick nipped his hand indignantly and the omega wisely crooned once in an amused apology, wisely deciding to sat back and rest his back on the cushion of the couch staying vigilant as the (his) pup was free to organize the nest as he liked.

It didn’t take long for it to be finished and soon enough Dick was laying himself on the dip of Bruce’s lap, his constant purrs hitching louder when old omega’s arms came down around the mock nest in a mimicry of a hug, subtly pushing the borders closer and the boy closer to him, which made the soft walls higher and appeased the natural instinct of every puppy to stay low and hidden from the world.

Dick squawked once when a fond kiss was laid on the crown of his head, mind rapidly getting over the surprise to push his head back under Bruce’s chin, happy to soak every hint of affection from the usually closed omega, scents of protective-pup-love mingling with happy-safe-loved as stray youngish yips called older gruffier chitters.

The quiet click of a camera going off only made Bruce’s content rumble stronger, already calculating where the new photo would fit better on his desk and which angle was best for the frame so he could stare at it at his most boring meetings.

When he was satisfied with the scenting, Dick turned himself back to the TV and pressed play. They were doing a movie marathon in celebration of Dick’s good grades and the success of his first solo patrol.

They were very late for it, unfortunately emergencies tied to both their night work and Wayne Enterprises did not care for plans, and Dick young one had been growing more impatient and brooding as the last few days were piled with interruptions.

Today Bruce had made sure that they would have a completely free night and the pup had been adamant to start as soon as possible before something else came up and obliged them to push the celebration to another day, even hoping Alfred into an earlier dinner, although the butler had drawn a line at unhealthy store-bought snacks.

(Both him and Dick had smuggled a couple from their last patrol and would be sharing it as soon as Alfred was distracted, of course.)

Call it his soft, bleeding heart or the novelty of parenthood clouding momentarily his judgement, but Bruce only realized the depth of the trap he fell when Alfred stepped in the room with two large bowls of popcorn and baked sweets. Just as he projected himself to grab them all he actually received was a fierce growl that made him freeze on the spot instinctively, watching was Dick instead tilted in the direction of the snacks.

Alfred watched the interaction with an unconcealed amused glint in his eyes and perfect posture as he handed Dick the bowls, successfully pulling his attention from where he stared Bruce down with a frown.

The omega analyzed. In the end, Bruce hummed.

“It seems like I am stuck, Alfred.”

“So, it does, Master Bruce. I suggest you proceed with caution if you wish to be allowed to leave.”

“Nope!” Dick happily interrupted, munching on the popcorn and giving Alfred a tiny apologetic smile when the older tsked in soft admonishing at him talking while eating. Then he turned around and gave Bruce the largest, proudest, most mischievous grin that made his eyes crinkle unapologetically with its width. “Now you can’t leave! You’re stuck here forever until we finish the movies.”

“All of them?”

“All of them!”

“Oh my.”

Dick chirped once, pleased and snuggled further on the nest as Bruce cautiously adjusted his position to get more comfortable, sneaking a sturdy pillow to support his lower back. Without further interruption, they turned their attention to the movie, happy to enjoy the calm moment.

Until, his work phone began to ring.

Even before he could turn his attention to it, Bruce felt Dick stiffen instinctively, weight heavier as he fully sprawled himself even further on his lap, limbs going to every direction and becoming completely boneless. He ignored the ringtone.

“Dick.”

Silence.

Only a growl answered him, the end pitching into a whine when Bruce made an attempt to move. “No.”

“Dick, I need to see my phone.”

Dick didn’t answer him.

The omega sighed as his pup very pointedly focused on the television, purrs becoming purposely louder each time Bruce chuffed to call his attention again.

Bruce pondered. Of course, this was not the ringtone he had sat for emergencies – for both his day nighttime jobs – which, independent their previous commitments, was so deeply ingrained on their training that it would automatically have him and Dick rushing to the Batcave to prepare themselves for the fight that it was to come. Yet, the fact that it had a ringtone set was telling enough that it was not a purely ignorable matter.

Then he watched the way his pup (the pup, otherwise his inner omega might melt into a possessive scenting here and there and it would take hours to pry Dick from his arms and wouldn’t that be utterly embarrassing, Batman himself falling so easily out of control) kept stealing glances at him, not quite wiggling uncontrollably as small puppies ought to do when they were enthusiastic, but with a restlessness twitch in his movements that he always got when there was too much pent-up energy to stay still for long.

Ah.

Something Bruce didn’t even know was tight in his chest relaxed, the puzzles pieces finally forming an image in his mind.

The pup simply wanted to play, push his pack caretaker around a little, poke a few buttons, test a little and see where this all would take him.

Of course, Bruce would oblige.

Years of practice allowed him to move faster than the boy could hope to dodge and not even a second later there was a light pinch on his side. Dick jumped with a squeak, limps suddenly finding their strength again and mind running wild as he became aware of the fate he sealed to himself.

Dick tried to roll away, but before he could do more than fall on his back there were two large hands latching on his sides and masterfully covering every single ticklish inch of it with a series of squeezes and pinches that had him immediately shouting with giddy laughter.

“B! Don’t you da-ahare!”

Bruce only hummed. “Oh no, chum, it looks like you’re stuck here. Forever.”

Dick growled at the unfairness of having his words mirrored right back at him, but it held no heat with the chuckles that were already building up his chest. Each time Bruce’s skilled, pinching fingers found a new weak spot and latched it with a calm kind of precise tickles a piece of his barrier broke with louder, gigglier yelps.

It began downing on him just how much trapped he was in the nest of his own making.

“Gohohohoho away!” Dick kicked and a loud squeal of joy escaped his lips when Bruce suddenly pivoted him and dragged his back to his chest so he out be out of the kicking zone.

(Ha! As if Dick wasn’t able to maneuver just enough to hit him if he really wanted! … Not that he would do it now, of course, contrary to some old people he wasn’t a cheating cheater who used dirty tricks to win!)

“Gohohoho hahahahahave yohohohour stupid phone ca-AHAHAHAHALL!” Dick threw his head back with the force of his loud crackles, which may or may not be associated with the fact that Bruce decided to worm his hands to the top of his ribs and drill his fingers there. Huh, wonder how did that happen.

“But I can’t, remember, chum? We can only get out of here when we finish watching every single movie produced since the beginnings of time. That’s the rule.”

“IHIHIHIHIT’S NOHOHOT!”

Bruce sighed in profound sympathy. “I am afraid it is.”

Before Dick could reply with another protest (or threat), Bruce decided to torment him a little bit with the most terrible, horrible, absolutely illegal move where he rapidly dragged his fingers down his ribs to his hips, scratching around his hipbones and kneading his sides in sudden bouts that felt like electricity teasing his nerves only to so, so very slowly crawl his hands back to the top of his ribs, careful to dutifully give each bone their very fair share of prodding and tasering.

It never failed to make his pup absolutely lose his mind, his laughter jumping between excited thrills mixed with loud chortles and unstoppable anticipatory snickers as Dick scrambled and squirmed around in a poor imitation of a worm, clumsily enough to only escape from one squeezing tickle hand and fall immediately on ten scribbling fingers.

Poor lad.

Dick shrieked with a new round of crackles as the cycle repeated over and over again. His hands shoot to hold onto Bruce’s wrists and try to push them away. It was not unlike trying to move a mountain.

“BRUHUHUHUHUCE!”

The omega chuffed once in question, amusement laced in the tilt of his tune. Dick instinctively answered with a calling chirp that would be annoyed if it weren’t for the giggles that painted every mirthful hue of his sounds. Besides, the pup was too much preoccupied in becoming a mess of squeals and chortles to hide the pure bouts of bright sparkles on his scent.

The best way to describe Dick’s scent was light, in every sense. It felt like the spotlights that would follow a spectacle or the airy breeze that caressed your face after a successful maneuver. It was energy, it felt alive. It could grow heavy and electric as a thunderstorm when he was angry or popcorn buttery in popping like fireworks in excitement when he was happy, always followed by the undercut of powdered chalk, his primary scent, unchanged no matter what.

At this moment, the air was almost overtaking by the playful joy emanating from his scent.

It only grew stronger when Dick opened his bright eyes and shouted a bark of laugh in protest when Bruce, pretending his hand was a claw, began to slowly descend his wiggling fingers in the direction of the pup’s stomach. The pup began to squirm and kick even more, hiccup giggles being intertwined with puppish growls as Bruce let the anticipation grow and simmer amidst fake lunges.

“S-stohohop!” Another fake lunge and another giddy shout. Dick mocked a bite in his direction, then immediately snorted as Bruce used the advantage to nuzzle his unprotected neck. “Bruce! Thihihihis is unfahahahair!”

“I’m sorry, lad.” Bruce lowered his voice into a gruffy pitch he knew it made Dick automatically feel like there were zings of energy running across his every tickle spot and making 1000% more ticklish. The omega huffed and puffed on his ears, playfully growling in a manner that only fed the high pitched, fast-paced snickering. “But Bruce is no longer here. There is only…”

His hand hovered above his belly and he clawed the air. Once. Twice.

“The Tickle Monster!”

Then he attacked. A shrill squeal was took over by belly laughter, that loud kind that made your entire body shake with the force of it. It was Bruce’s most dear prize. He clawed and squeezed everywhere around his belly until crackles and snorts chased each other across the room.

Dick laughed, he shrieked and squirmed around as Bruce kept up the playful attack for a couple more of minutes, just enough for the phone call to end and they both fall on the quiet while stray snickers fell in squeaky bouts from the younger’s mouth.

His touch soon lost the tickly playfulness and became soothing, rubbing the shaking stomach firmly enough to only chase the ghost tickles away as his pup got his breath back in between remaining jumpy giggles.

As time passed with his delightful, excited pup, Bruce found easier and easier to fall in those precious, playful moments of him, full of care and pack. Whatever the call had been about he was sure Lucius could take care of it for a couple more of hours.

He grunted with surprise, however, when Dick abruptly sprang into a vicious attack of the previous offending hand. He curled around the limb, letting out fierce growls and light puppy bites as he nipped at his hand, one or two bunny kicks to the adult’s arm sealing the true ferocity of his revenge.

Bruce stared at Alfred, who had just arrived in the room with cups and a jar of refreshing lemonade, perfect to help young pups stay hydrated after playing around.

His voice was serious as he stared the old butler. “It looks like I am being eaten.”

“Oh dear.” Alfred remarked drily, not even looking up from his task. The corner of his eyes crinkled, however, with a hint of mischief that shone in fondness across their old bond. “As long as no food is spilled on the carpet. We wouldn’t want a repeat of the Raspberry Incident, would we, Master Bruce?”

The omega hummed in agreement, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a conspiring grin.

It was only when his free arm sneaked under the pup and pulled him closer to his face that Dick’s mind caught the trap expertly hidden in the old butler’s words, a loud chirp of betrayal mixing in his words.

“Alfred!! How could you- NO!”

Tickling little pups is so easy nowadays. Before you had to chase them all around a mansion and deal with broken chandeliers and jumping chums. Here all Bruce had to do was to take an exaggeratedly big breath and Dick was already shrieking high and loud in delight, body contorting impossibly as he tried to both push his face away and wiggle out of his grip but he was already tickled out and uncoordinated enough to do neither.

Bruce took his time taking out increasingly larger breathes only to let them go and start anew again. At each time, without fail, his puppy would screech and kick in his direction, both due the energy of anticipation that grew stronger and stronger which each waiting second and the mix of squeaking laughter that marked just how flustered and loopy he was getting with all the teasing.

“STOHOHOP PLAYING AROHOHOUND! ARG, WHY AREHEHEHE YOHOHOU SO-”

Bruce didn’t answer, yet his hands calmly sneaked a little skittering at Dick’s sides, successfully fishing another loud shriek and even more breathless giggling. The pup growled, adorably weak in between the snickers and yips, and tried to give his hand another pretend puppy bite, blissfully distracted.

An error one should never make around Batman

Bruce shoved his face on Dick’s belly.

The screaming laughter cut up the air was loud enough that it made the omega glad their closest neighbors were still yards away or else it wouldn’t have taken long for GCPD to knock on their door.

The strident sound was fast to blossom into silent laughter as Bruce made sure to press smaller, yet equally deadly, raspberries around his bellybutton, humming softly with each one and trying to not have his heart melt completely from his chest at how it made the silent crackles be interrupted by joyful squeals each time.

So, he gave him another, and another, then another raspberry, shrieks and silent laughter masterfully danced around the room in a playful song full of light, mirth and an energetic exhilaration.

“YOHOHOHOHOHOU SSSSUCK!”

Bruce crooned sadly, pulling another wheeze from Dick as he continued to nuzzle his stomach, being sure to tease every inch of the ticklish skin with the stubble he didn’t have time to shave this morning, lips twitching to keep another smirk concealed. He honed on that extra sensitive spot right under Dick’s bellybutton, giving it an extra tickly nuzzle and chuffing innocently as more and more high pitched, hiccupy titters shot across the room.

“You don’t want me to scent you anymore?” Another sad chuff, now slightly muffled as Dick valiantly tried to worm himself away from his arms while pushing his face away. “Now, is my puppy already too old for a pack scenting?”

His entire face exploded in red, almost as vibrant as the scent of popping popcorn and roasted peanuts that left the pup, both embarrassed and loved. His giggles became garbled with protesting squeals. “’M NOHOHO P-PUPPY!”

Dick kicked and wiggled more on the hold, which ended up with the upper part of his body falling from Bruce’s arms and his stomach pushed even closer to the killer nuzzles, something Bruce took full advantage.

“This can’t be right. Let’s check it over, hm?”

“NONONO”

A quick raspberry on an extremely ticklish bellybutton, followed by a squealing shriek.

“One puppy squeal. Check.”

Some nibbles on a couple of extremely ticklish lower ribs and a loud, mirthful high-pitched laughter. Important note: The nibbles must always be accompanied by plenty of growls of ‘onomnomnom’ sounds for maximum tickly effect.

“One puppy thrill. Check.”

Lots of gruff huffs mixed artfully with lots of nuzzles on every inch of a very ticklish neck until purring squeaks and chirps are tittered on your ears.

“This sound awfully like some puppy squeaks to me, chum. Lastly…”

Bruce snuggled the younger one under his chin, his rumbles so loud and fond they shook his entire ribcage, encouraging his pup’s answering purring, much to Dick’s chagrin. Especially since Bruce kept attacking his back with fluttering, wiggling fingers that had him burrowing even more on his chest with titters.

(And if he kept pressing the top of his head under his chin until the omega was scenting his head with fond-love-care-pack it’s the least Bruce owns him after being such a cheater.)

“One very ticklish, very squeaky young puppy. Check.”

His inner omega was preening with pride at his pup (the one made a mock nest in his lap, who trusted him to keep him safe, who let himself be the child that he was around him and play-) smelling like him, completely melted in the safety of his embrace.

He crooned once, satisfied.

That, of course, was the moment Dick decided to nip him on the shoulder and jump away from his arms. His smile was bright and fierce when he called Bruce with a challenging thrill, immediately dashing away with loud, childish laughter.

The omega huffed fondly, then turned to the old butler who was still calmly crocheting on the armchair, movie dutifully paused right in the middle, a scene after the whole tickly shenanigans started. With a muffled groan, Bruce got up, carefully transferring the mock nest to the couch.

(And if a content, soft chuff escaped him as he adjusted the fabric carefully to keep the structure intact, even if it would be probably be destroyed amidst the chase that was bound to happen, it was no matter. Alfred would, as always, keep his secret to the grave.)

“Who would say.” He remarked, amused, as he cracked his back, stretching his stiff muscles from staying too long sitting on the floor, cataloging the most likely hiding places Dick would follow. “It seems like I am no longer stuck, Alfred.”

“Seems like a true miracle, sir.”

[~*~]

Fun Facts, Notes and Etc!

Dick: Very affectionate, lots of sounds, lots of possessive growls. Gets easily annoyed when family want to step away from his cuddling/nest/affections ect ect.

LOTS OF PLUSHIES.

Sometimes he gets extra sensitive to scents when he is Deep In The Sauce which makes him Not Want That Scent Close of Him at All but still keen loud and sadly every time the person walks away because that is his FAMILY that is his PACK why are they leaving him :((( COME BACK.

Bruce spent lots of nights sleeping on the border of his son’s nest with just his arm inside the nest being fiercely cuddled by Dick because of this, growled every time he tried to get in and whined sadly every time he tried to leave.

Pls imagine once again Dick with bunny kicks absolutely KILLING the tickle hands DEAD <3 MANGLING BITING DESTROYING <3 <3 <3

Someday in the future:

“Oh Dick how did you become such a good tickle monster?”

Dick: *war flashbacks*

Dick: I was born this way ofc ;)

Img of the day:

I love the way the first part was written, I felt like I was reading an article lmaao

[already feeling the phantom soreness his back would hold in the morning.] THERE COMES A TIME IN EVERY PERSON'S LIFE WHERE SACRIFICES MUST BE MADE, BATMAN.

DICK'S MAKING A NEST ON BRUCE'S LAP PLEASE THAT IS THE CUTEST THING I'VE EVER SEEN I'M GONNA PASS OUT- Lmao I love how he tried helping and Dick got all >:[

[Dick squawked once when a fond kiss was laid on the crown of his head, mind rapidly getting over the surprise to push his head back under Bruce's chin] IM CRYING HE'S JUST LIKE A KITTY CAT

[The pup simply wanted to play, push his pack caretaker around a little, poke a few buttons, test a little and see where this all would take him.] It's so sweet how this wasn't actually Bruce's first thought. He really thought Dick just didn't want him to get up at all <3

[Bruce only hummed. “Oh no, chum, it looks like you’re stuck here. Forever.”] WELL WELL WELL HOW THE TABLES TURN

[“Gohohoho hahahahahave yohohohour stupid phone ca-AHAHAHAHALL!”] first you didn't want him to pick up the phone and now this- tsk tsk make up your mind lil buddy

[Dick scrambled and squirmed around in a poor imitation of a worm, clumsily enough to only escape from one squeezing tickle hand and fall immediately on ten scribbling fingers.] THAT RIGHT THERE IS VILLAINOUS THE WAY. KANENE THERE IS EVIL WITHIN YOU.

[At this moment, the air was almost overtaking by the playful joy emanating from his scent.] THIS. Anything like this being used in fics is just ajskshskdhsksh so immensely sweet <3 we as the readers know the characters are having fun, but it's so adorable when the ler character has a way to actually for real for real know the lee character is having fun too <3

[He grunted with surprise, however, when Dick abruptly sprang into a vicious attack of the previous offending hand.] ATTACK ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ YEAH DICK YOU SHOW HIM ‼️‼️‼️

[His voice was serious as he stared the old butler. “It looks like I am being eaten.”] i giggled lmao, seeing serious characters saying silly stuff with the most deadpan tone is always funny

ALFRED'S BETRAYAL!!!!!! ALFRED HOW COULD YOU, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THE RESPONSIBLE ONE 💔

[“You don’t want me to scent you anymore?” Another sad chuff, now slightly muffled as Dick valiantly tried to worm himself away from his arms while pushing his face away. “Now, is my puppy already too old for a pack scenting?”] WOE IS HIM, THE MOST SCORNED FATHER THIS WORLD EVER DID SEE

[“It seems like I am no longer stuck, Alfred.”] YIIIIIIIIPEEEEEEE GO GET HIM ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ also, him carefully putting the nest aside so it wouldn't be dismantled is such a cute detail oh my goodness. THAT'S HIS PUP'S NEST!! HARK WORK WAS PUT INTO IT‼️‼️

A post-patrol Bruce was impossible to escape and Tim had already fought valiantly as much as he could, but after spending an entire night as Batman, dealing with fights and high stress situations, all while  using the heaviest scent-blockers on the market and pushing his every instinct down to hide any trace of heat from prying eyes, it was understandable that when he came back Bruce got a little overbearing.

Dick usually called it his Mama Bear mode, Jason, however, much less lovingly called it his Creepy Kidnapper Time, since no matter where they were or what time of the day it was, he would be usually using the shadows to snoop in and carry his (babies) (puppies) (children) (family) boys back to his nest (where they should be, why must they keep running away!) while scenting them like there was a horde of other packs just waiting for the slightest slip to steal them away from him, only to dump them on his nest and physically lay on them to prevent any escape attempts, amidst background noises full of swearing, amused crackling, protests or half-heartedly growls.

Nowadays it was all mostly funny, at most slightly annoying. 

Even so, Tim doesn’t think he will ever recover from the heart attack that it was to be nodding his head to his metal music while hacking on the CPDC system on the Batcave (he could ask Gordon directly about it but it was always funny to see his tired-I’m-too-old-for-this-batbullshit stare every time they meet after Tim left him an absolutely very helpful very serious message remembering them how easy still it was to hack into their programs) in his second year being a Robin only to be dragged to the darkness by a Bruce chirping and nuzzling his hair and growling terrifyingly when Tim tried to (very politely at the time) get out of his nest to call Dick and ask if Batman had been abducted and exchanged by a clingy clone from another universe.

Years later and with all his family close again, there was never a shortage of children to lock his attention and soothe the haywire omega instincts that always clouded his mind during his heats. Unfortunately, this specific time they were in the middle of an important case that had Duke and Red Hood locked deep into undercover investigations, with Cass still in Chinatown solving her own troubles and Nightwing working extra hours to hide Batman’s shorter patrols from the public eye. 

Damian had already served as a sacrifice in the morning for Bruce and had bravely endured all the coddling and care of his father for hours before scurrying to his room with hisses and bristles when Bruce tried to pull him back to his nest.

(Of course, that didn’t stop him from smirking smugly at Tim just a few minutes ago as he passed by Bruce’s door with Alfred The Cat in his arms, fully enjoying his new found freedom and enjoying even more Tim’s lack of it.)

With left Tim, who had been benched a couple days ago for pulling at his stitches after promising Alfred he would not do such a thing and was serving his exile to case working until the butler could be completely assured his cut would be healed nice and fully before he was allowed to step into patrols once again. Which may or may not have resulted in Tim feeling a tad left out and diving into investigations and solving cold cases with a determination that could make him forget basic necessities such as food and sleep.

Hence his new predicament.

“You should be on my side.” Tim ignored the sleepy notes that started to take over his words, frowning at Bruce, who hummed, not bothering to look up from his book, giving him a light scratch just above his nape that sent relaxing shivers across his spine. “One workaholic from another. Besides, you literally spent two hours brooding when Damian slammed the door in your face and stole my Stalker Album so you could whine at pictures of your kids and still insist on going to patrol every night while I can’t even help solving a few cases. Hypocrite much.”

The hand on his hair climbed down just enough to pinch the back of his ear lightly in reprimand. Bruce didn’t dignify him with an answer, rubbing his wrist on the sides of his neck with the scent that Tim had now come to associate with safety and pack.

Shit, Bruce really wasn’t above pulling the big guns tonight. Tim’s entire pack knew how any kind of close contact with even a small bit of pheromones from his pack was the perfect way to completely slow his mind and leave him totally loopy, which never failed to amuse his family.

He could pretend to mind all he wanted, too, but it was no secret how it all made that tiny puppy from years ago happy, the little one who watched hungrily those shows about packs that snuggled and lived and loved together, who read about bonds that went deference space and time to allow someone to call (someone to answer and come) when the other needed, who watched Batman pull Robin under his cape and yearned.

But a Robin was nothing if not stubborn. Time to change tactics.

“Woah, use the neglected kid's biggest weakness against him.” His attempt to push any kind of bite into his words were futile and when he blinked, slowly, the computer was no longer on his leg, probably scurried away under some hidden pillow of the nest. Tim blinked once more and he was being gathered closer, half draped on his dad’s chest, a deep rumble pulling a protesting chirp from him, even if it sounded even more half-meaning than the last. The fact that even after years living with his pack and yet just the slightest bit of a little stronger scent “Wait until the tabloids get a hang of this sob story, they will have a field day.”

Finally satisfied that his pup was smelling like him, Bruce huffed and began running the tip of his fingers on the other’s back, knowing very well all his kids were weak to back scratches and not afraid to use it to his favor.

“Resistance Training.” He remarked. Nothing in his voice was playful, but when you became fluent in Batman’s grunts and hums, you learned when to notice the lightness in his words and the small twinkle in his eyes that meant he was poking fun at you.

Tim squeaked, then pushed his face on his chest, shoulders shaking with a slight tremble on them. A playful content-fun-flustered flowery scent took the air and Bruce took advantage of how the other’s hidden face didn’t allow him to see the tiny smile forming on his expression.

Yes, all his kids were equally weak for back scratches, but some were simply weaker than others.

“Bruhuhuhuce!”

“Hm?”

Unbothered, the fingers continued, calmly climbing upwards in between firmer rubs and lighter scratching, until he could swirl patterns across his shoulder blades, sneaking a stronger scribble right under each one so the muffled titters gave up to a sea of snickers, silly, free and so unlike the serious, cunning Red Robin in the field or the well mannered Timothy Drake seen at galas that it made every cell in Tim’s body sparkle flustered, especially when he could literally feel the fondness oozing from Bruce through their bond.

He must have been even more tired than he thought, too, because with just that light touch all the rationality escaped his body in a haste, leaving behind only the buzzing, tingling tickles that made him automatically let go of all his control from his other bonds, not taking too long before Dick answered his rush of happiness with excitement-adorable-want-tease, Jason poked fun at him with a quick spark of amused-snort-goodluck, Damian took his revenge from all the early teasing sending a smug satisfied-deserved-welldoneFather and Alfred, with the lowest attack of them all, simply let the warmest, fondest feeling of love shower them through the bond.

“Nohoho ticklihihihing!” Ignoring how whiny and childish such words sounded, Tim wiggled from one side to another, trying to dislodge those damned skilled fingers that knew their every ticklish spot and refused to not explore each and every single of them again and again until he was nothing but a puddle of giggles. 

Pinches upon pinches, light and soft and sparkling in tiny bolts of ticklishness that felt like shocking, buzzing electricity that kept teasing his nerves over and over again, rained upon the twin spots under his shoulder blades. They jumped from one to another in random intervals, barely letting his snickers slow before going to the other side and dragging squeaks upon squeaks from his throat. “Gehehehet out!”

“But you love your tickles.”

Tim sputtered, at the nonchalant way Bruce said it, at the truth in his words, at the way it didn’t even sound like a tease but was the meanest, most mischievous thing someone could say-

Bruce smirked, glad that the distracting technique still worked so well, and both of his hands came down to that lovely space in between his dear, poor ticklish son's back and armpit, latching on the weak spots with only his index and middle finger and tasering.

“y-yOU- NAHAHAHAHAHA!” The boy threw his head back, shrieking, his noodle arms finally gathered enough strength to push him away from Bruce’s chest, an effort that unfortunately only propelled him even close to the silly tickling fingers. “NOHOHOHOHOT THERE, BRUHUHUHUCE, NOT THEREHEHEHE!”

“Not where?” Tasering gave space to squeezes, one after the other after the other, again and again until the shrill sound of his crackles rang loud across the entire room. His arms lost once more their strength, which resulted in Tim falling back on Bruce’s chest, who bore the sudden weight with a quiet oof, amused at how no amount of contorting nor imitating a wiggly worm made the younger able to push the attacking hands away from the maddening spots.

He kept the attack for a few more seconds, alternating between drumming his fingers to catch ear-splitting squeals and wiggling that would pry the most lovely crackles. Eventually, the hands lifted from his back, letting the laughter simmer back to a fast, uncontrollable giggle fit. Laying a comforting hand in between his shoulderblades, only years of practice kept Bruce from cooing at how his son jumped and let out a tittering yelp at the sudden contact, sniggering growing stronger once again, despite the fact he wasn’t even moving his hand.

“Huh? Talk to me, chum. I’m afraid there is someone laughing an awfully lot close by and I couldn’t understand you.”

Tim shook his head, cheeks, ears, face melting at each tease. He opened his mouth to retort with… something only to feel two thumbs suddenly descending once more on the tickle spots, buzzing as if their lives depended on pushing all the air from his lungs in a loud, strident screech that was quickly followed by even more laughter.

“Oh!” Bruce exclaimed, enlightened, as if an idea just appeared on his mind. “Not here, were you saying?” He made sure to highlight his words with even more digging, thumbs crawling to tease with scribbles the edges of his armpits, which, of course, made Tim glue his arms to his sides in a poor defense that unfortunately only helped to lock the tickles right into the tickle spots. Poor lad. “Not right here, perhaps?”

“YES!” Tim crackled, shrieked, squealed, eyes pressed firmly closed, smile stretched from ear to ear. “NOHOHOHOT THERE! IT THIHIHIHICKLES, IT THIHIHICKLES!”

“Does it?” Suddenly, Bruce freed his hands from their imprisonment and wormed them under Tim’s arms until he could prod and spider across his ribs, attack now changing to a much softer, quicker kind of attack that were so unlike the previous one that it felt like they were directly teasing each one of his senses, buzzing and tingling spreading across his ribs and torso as if dancing across his nerves. It was just the perfect kind of tickles to catch the sweetest, most adorable fits of Tim giggling in the entire Earth. “What about here? Does it tickle too?”

Tim tried to roll away, shaking his head, then nodding, then trying to hide his face when he peaked one of his eyes open only to see the most embarrassing, mushy, soft face glued on Bruce’s expression that made him decide there was no other viable option other than faking his death and fleeing the country after this whole ordeal was over.

As if sensing the turn of his thoughts (or simply deciding that his son could have a little more of tormenting, as a treat), Bruce clawed at the top of his ribs, being careful to both latch and drum on the sensitive bones and skitter lightly at the ticklish places in between each rib. Tim kicked, garbled, completely intelligible sounds leaving his lips in a torrent of snickering, snorting laughter that made his entire body shake with the force of it.

Bruce hummed, even nodding once, as if he could understand a single word being said. “I see your point. Those indeed feel like ‘very tickle-tickly-ticklish’ ribs, but we must not fall on the fallacy of generalization, Tim. Let’s see if all of your other ribs are ticklish too.”

“Eeeek! Nononononohohoho! They’re tihihihihicklish! They’re tihihihihicklish, I swehehehear!”

Bruce pretended his heart wasn’t melting with the sheer cuteness that it was to see his son squealing in mirth in his arms and valiantly did not begin peppering his hair with kisses and nuzzles. “Sorry, chum, you know I must verify it.”

Giggles, snickers, squeaks, chuckles and snorts, it all mixed in the air as Bruce took his precious time “inspecting” each one of his ribs. There was prodding, there was poking along the bone, following his torso with scribbles and spidering when Tim tried to squirm away and low chuckles reverberating across the room each time a quick drumming or persistent scratching pried a surprised, tittering yelp or another sea of intelligible, protesting words that didn’t match at all the purring that sputtered here and there from the younger, growing louder and louder at each moment.

“Plehehehease! Dahahahad!”

Bruce froze in place.

And his internal omega sang. 

He watched Tim, staring at him still giggling, still blushing, still scrambling with totally uncoordinated moves to pry his squeezing, pinching hands from his sides, only to see his eyes widening in recognition, his scent quickly growing with excitement-trepidation-surprise-mirth-wAIT-

On the next second, Bruce had his (puppy) (child) (kid) (son) (my pup, my pup, mine mine mine) in his arms and was nuzzling his hair, his neck, his stomach, crooning at the way it shook under his kisses and nibbles and scenting and raspberries that kept pulling, one after the other, those adorable, precious, happy high pitched, childish, free and unstoppable shrieking laughter, almost inaudible under his own loud purring and happy thrills as he made sure that every little crook and nook received their proper (tickly) attention over and over again.

“Dad! Shihihihit, wait, wait, wahahahait, ihihihit tickles ihihihit tihihihickles!” 

And it really did, his dad was truly and 100% lost into his tickle lovingly mode (as Dick dearly named it) and it would be an absolute bliss (or at least a fun blackmail material to tease him when his heat-brain cleared) if every single piece of his affection didn’t tickle so much.

It wasn’t only the raspberries, the nibbles and the nuzzling that kept following his stomach and neck no matter how much Tim squirmed or pulled his shoulders upwards, only to have Bruce unyielding shoving his face and rubbing that awfully, absolutely horrible stubble all over his sensitive neck but also the way that he kept purring, the vibrations travelling his already sensitive tickle spots and only increasing every single ghost tickle tenfold. 

It was also the way that his crooning and chuffing kept calling his inner pup and having Tim answering every single one of his calls with mirthful chirps and delighted thrills of yes-here-I’m-here-I’myourpup! that came out more and more snickery and giggly at each turn, which only resulted with Bruce calling him even more.

Or even worse (better), it was how listening to such a tiny, simple word made Bruce’s scent explode in happiness-love-care-pup-dear-joy-precious-mine-mine and how it made Tim’s very soul sing in delight, worming himself close to his scent and warmth (and, by proxy, the tickly attention).

His brain was completely taken over by the tickles and the feelings, every thought seemed to flee from Tim’s mind except his tittering, chirping and joyful, shrieking, hiccupping giggles that grew more and more loopy at each passing second, time losing its meaning in that sweet moment of love and care.

And even when the tickle attack ceased, Tim didn’t bother to try to wiggle away from the comfort of his dad's arms, trusting them to keep him safe in his slumber. Instead, as his chirps and snickers grew slower and lower, he nuzzled once under Bruce’s chin, snuggling closer and purring without a care in the world as Bruce arranged the blankets and pillows to better hide them from any danger or stranger that dared to come closer to his territory. There was a kiss on his head and a quiet grumble that was quickly changed to a pleased chuff when he moved just enough to pull some clothes that smelled like his pack closer.

Just like that, they fell into a comfortable sleep, a tiny, still lightly rational part of Bruce’s mind basking smugly in the happiness of another successfully executed plan.

[~*~]

Fun Facts!

I completely forgot the name of the police force in Gotham so I just pushed together random letters hope you can forgive me guys 'v')b

I love the idea that growing up pretty much alone makes Tim extra-extra susceptible to his pack scents. Like my boy is all >:[ serious mode working then Cass appears at his side looking at him with those Big Ol Eyes, scent full of worry-care-love because his brother haven’t slept in 3 days and Tim immediately begin feeling his walls crumbling and stubbornness weakening until he is turning off the computer and following her to her nest already half-asleep so they can cuddle and sleep all while they pretend that her loud satisfied-happy rumbling is hiding his content-loved tiny purring

OR OR OR Imagine he just surviving a tickle attack from Dick, all smiling, blushing, opening his eyes while there are still high pitched giggles leaving his mouth and BAM suddenly he is slammed by Dick’s happy-joy-mirth-love-love-family-love scent because that is !!!! his lil bro!!!! his cute lovely adorable little brother!!!!!! And Dick is purring up a storm nuzzling his hair, hugging him and Tim is now even MORE giggly completely loopy, automatically dazed, lost in the sauce, no thoughts on his head at all just happiness and giggles and ghost tickles

I like to think that his purring is usually all stumbling, like, quiet and a little bit weird sounding and interrupting itself because he is unused to make it OR when he is very very relaxed, almost asleep extremely loud, non stop, makes his entire chest tremble with the force of it, no in-between

Also u can decide everyone second gender I left it undecided for your imagination except for Bruce I am so sorry that man is an Omega in all the senses like COME ON his life is adopt kids and carry the weight of loving his family so much as a mantle and being hella protective of his city and his family LIKE!!!!!!

 Also, I hope that was clear on the fic but in this AU not all the heats are sexual. Actually I’ve seen in a fic Bruce usually having a Puppy-Heat where he basically just wants to throw all of his children on his nest and make sure they are 100% secure and under his protection all the time and cuddled and taken care of and happy and that is basically what I wanted to have here too

I know most of the fics focus on Bruce in heat taking care of all his children and pulling them to his nest and everything but can we also talk a bit about a teen Bruce lurking around the corner of the kitchen and staring fixately at Alfred until the butler sigh, finish cleaning the plates and tidying everything else before fondly saying ‘Yes, master Bruce, I shall accompany you now.’ And following his dear boy to his nest while young Bruce tries to valiantly hide his happy chirping at finally having his family close and protected again, sleeping so easily and quietly under Alfred's vigilant gaze. Just think it’s extra funny to imagine Bruce being a hoarder since he was a tiny child jhygtfrgthyujikol

I also love to think about Cass ABSOLUTELY THRIVING with Heat-Bruce, happy to basically live in his nest during the duration of his heat, getting all the cuddles she could ever want, holding hour-long conversations with only chirps and purrs and chuffs and helping him to steal her brothers back every time they wander too far from the nest

The family has an album full of pictures that Tim took from all the members (in and out patrols, before and after him becoming Robin) which is lovingly called “the Stalker Book”

Ya know how cats begin to yowl when they think their owners are not home, calling for them? Bruce during his puppy heat with his children. Also they have a group chat where the only thing they send is videos/pics of embarrassing moments of Bruce during his heat and it's amazing

Also I think it is super funny Tim using his ‘woah, yeah, ok then deny the neglected kid any trace of love :/’ card every time his brothers deny him anything. Like I read a fic where Jason had been embarrassed bc he dragged Tim to his nest during his heat to cuddle and refused to get into it again until Tim began making those ‘sad-abandoned-alone-help’ puppy noises which IMMEDIATELY made Jason jump back to cuddle him (grumbling and swearing ofc) and I thought that was super funny so I hc him doing this all the time. He knows the power that he holds and he is not afraid to use it <3

Calling Bruce ‘dad’ can be a double edged sword he can either do anything you ask or immediately fall into tickle attack mode (must get the cuteness aggression out) there is also no in between rip (win-win situation i guess)