#bbyjay

Blue eyes stared at him warily as the boy spoke, words low, “Just because Blackwing claimed me as his pup doesn’t mean -” 

“He did what?!” Words burst from Bruce’s chest in surprise as he half rose out of his chair.

The boy flinched again, so slight he almost missed it, and he cursed. Shit. He had to be careful.

Gentling his tone, he tried again. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised. Please, come eat.”

The boy shook his head and turned to flee - Right into his eldest son. 

Damian.

“Jason.” The alpha rumbled, low and soothing. Almost instantly some of the pup’s tension washed away. “I see you found the breakfast room.”

A nod. A hand gently carded through black hair. “It’s safe, little kit. Father won’t harm you.”

“D-dami, he’s Batman!”

Bruce grimaced at the choked whisper. 

“He’s your grandfather, habibi, and Pack Lead. He will care for you.” 

Seeing the hesitance, Damian picked the boy up as if he weighed nothing (which he practically did - they were going to have to feed him) and carried him over to Bruce. 

“Father, this is Jason. I will be adopting him.” 

He’d thought he’d managed to eliminate that imperious tone from his son’s voice... for the most part, anyway. The alpha must be anxious about Bruce’s true reaction for it to make a reappearance.

“I see.” The alpha solemnly stated. Really. It was just like his son to corner him with a frightened pup so he couldn't react the way he wanted. “Welcome to the pack, Jason.”

He leaned forward and swiped a cheek over the boy’s head, marking him with his scent, with pack scent, and pressing a swift kiss to his forehead. 

Despite the surprise, warmth and pride stirred in his chest at the cautiously awed look in the pup’s blue eyes. Eyes like his own. His pack was growing and it could only get stronger.

Jason was a wonderful addition. (He was already thinking about all the things the omega would need.)

“You need to tell your brother.”

Damian grimaced.

------------------------------

Crack.

Oof. 

Or not.

The kid had it well handled.

“You little brat!” The partner snarled, tripping over the unconscious - Damian flicked a glance at the blood pooling under his head - possibly dead body of his partner. “Once I get my hands on you, it’s straight to the harem houses!”

A growl rumbled to life in Blackwing’s chest. How dare he! No one deserved that fate, let alone a child! He drew his sword in preparation for entering the fight and stopped as howl rent the air. 

The little warrior had taken out a kneecap, swiftly following with another blow to the side of the head. His second, and last, opponent down the boy collapsed to his knees and clutched a hand to his ribs.

Shit. He should have entered the fight. The pup had been hurt.

He stepped out of the shadows and into the alley. The boy scrambled to get to his feet, hand clenching convulsively around the tire iron. Blackwing’s eyes flicked to the Batmobile half a block away. He could see two tires missing and felt the edges of his mouth twitch.

Father was going to be pissed.

“Blackwing?!” The boy gasped. 

Damian tasted the air. Omega. Not that he was surprised after the comment made by the thug. Packless with only his own immature milk scent covering his skin. Injured. Hungry. Orphan. 

Mine.

A low comfort rumble started in his chest. He saw the boy’s shoulders drop a bit in response before he tensed up again, shaking himself.

“That was very well fought, little one.”

“You gonna take me in?” The boy asked, fear spiking in his scent and blue eyes looking suspiciously bright.

“Why would I do that?” Damian asked, carefully stepping closer.

He gestured to the bodies, “Think I mighta’ killed ‘em.”

Damian couldn’t care less about that. An ambulance and GCPD were already on their way.

“I think they deserved it if you did.” Damian paused. “What’s your name?”

A shifting of feet. 

A glance at the ground 

“Jason.”

He waited. There was more.

“Jason Todd.”

Blackwing nods slowly. “You are a credit to your name.” Quick. Clever. Vicious. Like a fox. “And you will be a credit to mine.”

“What?”

With a quick movement, he scooped Jason into his arms - ignoring the outraged squawk - and settled him on his hip. He rumbled again in comfort, urging the fear out of the pup’s, out of his kit’s scent. 

Deft fingers carefully pulled off one his masking patches. He leaned forward and coated his new son in his own spicy alpha scent.

A sharp inhale met his actions. The boy - Jason - fisted his hands in Blackwing’s costume. A confused whine slipped from his throat quickly followed but a pleased purr. There was no mistaking the action for anything but a pack claim.

“You’re mine, little kit.”

He needed food and a bath and a nest. In that order.

------------------------------

Harem hunters.

When was he going to catch a fucking break?

Stifling a whimper as a boot clipped his ribs, Jason rolled out of the way of the next blow. There! That’s where he dropped it! He grabbed the tire iron as he popped up again, belting it into the stomach of one of his attackers.

Taking advantage of his weapon, he caught one of them a lucky blow to the head a few moments later. He’d seen the other guy babying a knee, though. 

He took a chance - hoping he remembered the right one - and slammed the piece of steel into it as hard as he could.

The taste of victory coated Jason’s tongue as the man crumpled but he didn’t stop to savor it. 

(It tasted like blood.) 

He needed to end the threat. Another strike, straight to the skull, and the second alpha was down.

A soft whimper slipped past his lips as Jason sank to his knees; palm pressed against his ribs where he caught the earlier blow. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing.

Every time.

Every fucking time.

These days, Jason could barely leave his tiny nest before the hunters were on him. He didn’t know what to do. They knew where he holed up but they couldn’t reach it. He needed to move, but couldn’t leave.

Rock, meet hard place.

The crunch of gravel had Jason scrambling to his feet, fingers clenching the iron again. He was so tired. He was so hungry. Blue eyes flicked anxiously towards the alley entrance as he stumbled to turn.

Wait, that was -

“Blackwing?!”

The masked vigilante focused intently on him. He was so fucked. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air and the alphas on the ground were a little too still. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Jason prepared himself. If he was going away, well... at least it was Blackwing.

Everyone in the Alley knew Blackwing protected the omegas.

Blackwing cared.

It didn’t stop the fear crawling up his spine. He had only been protecting himself. Jason had to protect himself. He had no one else.

His eyes stung with unshed tears.

Later, when he looked back on that moment, all he remembered was the overwhelming anxiety and confusion. What came clearly, though, was being tucked solidly into Blackwing’s side and covered in his unusual alpha scent.

Being claimed.

“You’re mine, little kit.”

Gaining a pack.

------------------------------

With a full belly, a warm nest, and surrounded by the scent of pack… it had only been a few months but already the bond was strong. They had their ups and downs — introducing a new member was never smooth — but Damian was patient. 

(More patient than Bruce and Tim.)

He knew that you couldn’t expect a half-feral pup from the streets to understand and trust right away. He knew they had to earn it. (He had to keep reminding his father and brother of that and to their credit, they did listen.)

The boy whined and snuggled into the blankets, seeking the heat and comfort of the nest. Damian’s instincts were content, knowing that was providing for his kit. A rumble started in his chest, aimed to soothe.

Blue eyes cracked open, hazy with fever and sickness. 

“Damian?”

“I’m here.”

“Why?” 

Real bafflement colored his tone and the alpha clenched his jaw. If Willis and Catherine Todd weren’t already dead…

Well, he still had access to the League of Shadows and Mother would be thrilled he was showing interest again.

“To take care of you.” He stated, evenly.

“Don’t need taken care of.” 

Jason pouted, voice breaking on the last word and sending him into a coughing fit. Damian rubbed his back and handed him a glass of water when he could breathe again.

“I know you don’t need me, kit. But I want to take care of you.” 

That was the truth. The pup didn’t need anyone. He had proven that more times than Damian wanted to think about over the two years on his own. 

Damian ran a gentle hand through sweaty hair and helped the boy lay back down.

“Why?” 

It was a plea as much as it was a complaint.

The alpha replaced the cool cloth, noting as Jason leaned into the touch. 

“Because you deserve care, kit. Because you deserve to have a family that loves you and sees to your needs. Because you deserve the chance to be a child. Because you have had a hard life and nothing will make up for that but I want to ease some of the weight.” 

He took the boy’s hand and rubbed sure fingers over the palm, easing hidden tension. “Because I love you and you are my kit and it is my duty and pleasure to care for you.”

Jason hand gripped his — his voice was thick, full of more than sickness as he spoke one word. 

“Dad.”

“I honestly don’t think this was the best idea Chum…” Bruce furrowed his brow and surveyed the kitchen with a legitimately worried look upon his face. “We’ve managed to cover every inch of counter space, and much of the floor, with a gooey and/or powdery substance. Alfred is going to have our heads.”

Jason snorted and spun on his heels.

“Don’t be such an old man, B. We can clean it up, and it will be worth it, I promise.”

Bruce hardly looked sure and stared at the oven in disdain.

Jason laughed as he tossed a roll of paper towels into his arms and dove under the sink for the box of garbage bags.

“Aren’t you supposed to stay on the ground and keep room vibrations at a minimum to avoid cookies coming out wrong?” he frowned, watching as the teen leapt up onto the counters to shut the cabinets, and proceeded to scrub the marble surface with damp towels beneath his feet.

“Seriously? How sheltered are you? That’s cake Bruce. Sometimes brownies. They fall if they’re jolted.” He snickered, shaking his head.

Bruce only looked all the more confused.

“How could they fall if they are on a shelf covering the length of the oven?”

Jason only stared and bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“The middle sinks in and the cake becomes super dense. Still edible but not so appetizing. Have you not ever watched Alfred bake? Because he like… does that a lot.”

Bruce sighed and leaned against the fridge.

“In recent years? No. As a child I might have been sitting in here with him, but I was doing homework, not paying attention to his musings, just the final result.” He cracked a small embarrassed smile, and Jason couldn’t help the flush that rose to his cheeks as result.

“W-well,” he stammered. “I’m sure he would be willing to teach you, if you asked ya know.” He smiled, watching as Bruce ripped a few squares off the roll, and stepped over to the sink to dampen them.

“Oh I highly doubt that…”he chuckled looking over his shoulder at the boy. “Alfred all but chases me out of the kitchen with a broom if I dare venture anywhere near the stove and oven. I tend to create disasters if ‘cooking’ doesn’t involve a microwave, or a fire pit oddly enough. One learns to adapt in dire situations…” he trailed off.

Jason frowned, and hopped off the counter, tossing the dirty towels in a bag.

“What about, you know… Grayson?”

At this Bruce rose a curious brow.

“Dick? Heavens no. Alfred enforced the same rules with him. He never was very good in the kitchen, though I must admit he made a solid effort for a time, before Alfred chalked it up as a lost cause. There’s a reason Dick primarily lives off of cereal, take out, and delivery pizza.” He laughed, scrubbing mindlessly at the island’s surface.

Jason perked up at once and a smug grin splayed across his face.

“Well, no worries Bruce. You’ll always have me around to cook for you. Can’t say I’m as awesome as Alfred, but I can hold my own in a kitchen.”

Bruce chuckled and smiled at him fondly, and Jason was sure his heart skipped a beat, even before the oven timer went off.

“I’m sure you could.”

Jason beamed and bounced over to the oven slipping the oversized mitts onto his hands.

True to his expectations the cookies looked great, and he shot Bruce an ‘I told you so’ look as he carefully removed them from their trays and placed them on the cooling rack.