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Tim Drake had not expected to present a beta, of all designations. An alpha would have been ideal, in his parents’ eyes. An omega would have been awful, what with living alone & all, but useful. A beta just… soothed. The balance, peace, and diplomat of any given pack.
Which was stupid, since Tim had no pack at home. (But then again, when had life ever gone his way?)
He walked around the house the day after his presentation, spreading his new strange peaceful scent & hoping for the best. Maybe his parents would notice when they came home. Would they be proud? Betas were excellent in business, what with their ability to establish emotional harmony in their surroundings.
The thought wasn’t as comforting as he would have liked.
************
Robin was dead.
Tim locked himself in his room & cried all night. The distress in his normally-calm scent made him dizzy, so he skipped school, too.
The miserable cycle lasted four days before he pulled himself together. Batman was going feral, and no one else had the guts to do anything about it.
The world must go on.
************
Tim collected as much evidence as he possibly could before deigning to approach Wayne Manor. He wasn’t nervous or anything. He was only planning to blackmail the coolest & most unstable alpha in the entire city.
So.
Thankfully, it was the butler that answered the door. He had scent-blockers on, probably because the household was in the middle of grieving, but Tim suspected he was another beta, and that was nice.
“Timothy Drake,” he introduced immediately, hands tight around the folders he’d brought. “I need to speak with Mr. Wayne.”
The butler stood back, appearing surprised. “Come in good sir. Mr. Wayne has been rather distraught as of late, but I’m sure he will grant a short interview. With what do you require his assistance?”
“Actually,” Tim said apologetically, sitting down on one of the chairs in the first living-room. “I think he might require mine.”
Bruce Wayne came all right. His grieving edging-on-feral scent leaked liberally through the blockers he wore, and Tim almost booked it right then. Instead, he plucked up his courage, took a deep breath, and presented the photos.
Bruce… was not pleased.
“You need a Robin,” Tim finished firmly after explaining how he knew the Big Secret & why he had come.
Correction. Bruce was furious.
Tim didn’t really register crooning until he’d already done it. Bruce froze mid-stride, confusion replacing the anger on his face. What had he been approaching to do? Not to hurt Tim, surely. Just to usher him out.
Tim crooned again, peeling off his own scent-blockers. Nervous-calm-reassurance leaked into the room, swirling gently among the grief-sorrow-anger.
Safe, his croon communicated. Steady.
Bruce turned away, rubbing his face with one hand. “There will never be another Robin.”
Well, Tim knew when to make a graceful exit. He picked up his folders, rubbed a bit of his scent on the couch for good measure, and left.
************
He didn’t stop, of course. Every time Batman walked the line of “too far”, Tim Drake started crooning from the shadows, calming him just in time.
The angry alpha tried to tell him to stop.
The fearless beta never did.
************
Tim Drake got the job.
It wasn’t a long-term solution or anything. Just… a guard-rail. A way to steer Batman back towards sanity; towards healing.
It wasn’t easy.
It was actually really hard.
************
Tim kept his head down & his hands busy. He learned rather quickly, memorizing every single piece of Robin-related information that he could. He was good at that part.
The physical training presented more of a challenge.
Batman insisted on scent-blockers down in the Cave. At all times. Which, logically, was the smart thing to do. It just really would have helped Tim to be able to gauge the alpha’s moods. The hidden anger. The crippling sadness. The frustration when Tim wasn’t doing something right, or good enough, or like Jason used to do it.
Bruce often looked right through him. Tim didn’t really mind. He wasn’t here to bond. He did mind it when Bruce accidentally called him Jason, though. The feral alpha didn’t seem to notice. Tim always did.
The young beta never mentioned it, even when it happened over and over and over again.
************
Tim wasn’t getting far without scent. Batman wasn’t almost-killing people anymore, at least. All of his fury was directed into training at the Cave.
The new Robin was fast on his feet, but not fast enough. Especially not today. The feral alpha didn’t seem to notice his growing distress until it was too late.
That’s too fast, Tim wanted to say.
You need to be faster, Batman would always reply, so what was the point?
One of the alpha’s hits landed too hard, and Tim heard a snap in his right leg. He didn’t scream. It was a near thing.
He did offer a shaky croon.
Please, his leaking scent begged. Reassuring-scared-hurt.
Batman turned around & stalked off. His face was rather pale. Tim hoped he hadn’t accidentally thrown the man into a flashback.
He managed to get home without any help. He was Robin, after all, and he refused to let Alfred know how harsh Bruce was being. The alpha just needed more time. He’d come back around. Tim could absolutely do this himself.
That didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.
************
Tim Drake took temporary leave from Robin with the excuse of schoolwork & his parents’ imminent return home. It was a half-lie. His parents weren’t coming home until Christmas.
He just needed his leg to heal.
************
The Drakes didn’t come home for Christmas, but Dick Grayson did.
This… turned out to be disastrous.
“Why the hell would you get another Robin, B?!” The younger alpha yelled, angry-hurt-scared pouring from his unblocked scent-glands. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?!”
Tim limped out from the shadows, crooning gently into the stony silence. He was met with a mix of exasperation & surprise. The beta dared to approach the hurt alpha. No doubt it was stupid, maybe even dangerous, but not nearly as dangerous as approaching an angry Batman. And he’d definitely done that before.
Nightwing stared at him, speechless, as Tim reached up & rubbed the inside of his wrist against the neck of the suit. It wasn’t a true scenting, but the meaning was the same. Calm, his pheromones communicated. Excited-nervous-pack.
Nightwing stumbled over his words for a few seconds before settling on, “The hell?”
Tim crooned again, low & gentle, and the alpha relaxed. He came off of the balls of his feet, and his shoulders went down. Protect, his hurt scent communicated. Hopeful-protect-pack.
“B?” he asked weakly.
“He is remarkably stubborn,” Batman offered gruffly, but there was the hint of a smile in his voice.
Tim just beamed.
************
Robin was back.
Jason Todd was the Red Hood.
Red Hood wanted to murder him.
Tim put up an honest-to-goodness fight, he really did. Most of it included running & deflecting. He was about half of Hood’s size, and probably a third of his weight. He had no weapons besides his bo. His feet were bare.
It was the Tower. It should have been safe.
Not from Robins, it seemed.
Tim knew he’d lost when his injured leg gave out. It hadn’t healed right. None of his training-sustained injuries had.
Hood bore down on him without mercy. Tim was crying far sooner than he wanted to. It should have taken more to make him cry.
The beta finally caught his breath when Hood was kneeling over his body, knife at his throat. He only had enough left to give a low helpless keen.
It wasn’t a croon. It wasn’t calming or reassuring or diplomatic. It was scared-pup-help.
Please, his instincts sobbed. Stop.
Hood leaned back, hesitating. Tim rolled his head as his body pounded out steady waves of pain, keening once more, weak & helpless. He knew it was pathetic, but it helped. Just a little. To think that maybe, in his wildest dreams, someone might come.
Gentle arms gathered him close, and a new scent hit his nose. Omega.
“J’son,” he croaked miserably, curling as close as his injuries would allow.
“Yeah.” Jason shifted his grip, pressing Tim’s nose gently to his collarbone where upset-guilt-relief-safe-protect poured forth. “I’ve got you, pup. I’ve got you.”
************
It took several months for Jason to finally come home. Everyone else was ecstatic. Tim was just…
Well, not disappointed. Maybe sorta sad. His usefulness had come to an end, after all.
He packed his bags that very night.
************
On his third night back home, Tim woke to the sound of his window sliding open. A familiar scent drifted through. An omega. A terrifying omega.
Tim offered a shaky croon, hoping against hope that Hood wasn’t here for a rematch. Surprisingly, Hood chuffed in return, low and gentle and soothing. Pup, it called. Come. Safe.
Tim was out of bed before his fear convinced him otherwise, pressing himself into Jason’s space & rubbing his head on the underside of the omega’s chin. He’d probably be shoved off, and he didn’t think he could stand that, so he had to gather as much of that wonderful scent as he could before the beatdown.
Even more surprisingly, Jason didn’t push him away. He gathered Tim close, carefully scenting his back & head with safe-gentle-pack. He wasn’t even in his Hood gear. He wore instead a pair of sweats & a red hoodie barely too large for him. His feet were bare.
Tim keened miserably. He didn’t understand. He was alone and hurt and scared, and Hood was here to hurt him, but Jason was here to soothe his fears, and Hood smelled just like this but Jason had taken his place back and pushed Tim from Wayne Manor and broken into Tim’s room without shoes.
The omega gently hushed him, scenting his back more firmly now; hugging him close. Tim subsided into minute trembles. His good hand fisted Jason’s hoodie. His other had been strained in training recently, and he didn’t think Bruce knew about it.
“What are you doing here alone?” Jason purred worriedly, rocking Tim gently on his feet. “You should be in a nest, pup.”
Tim sniffled a bit, overwhelmed. He’d never been this close to an omega before. “My… My job is done. You’re back now, so I’m not useful anymore.”
Jason pulled away, grasping Tim’s shoulders. His eyes flashed green. “Who told you that?”
Tim couldn’t help a scared whimper. “No… no one. I just thought…”
Jason pulled him close again, growling possessively, and returned to scenting his hair. “You thought wrong. You’re part of the pack, kid; how could you not know that?”
“I don’t have any bonds,” Tim tried weakly, relaxing against his will in the omega’s protective hold.
Jason growled low in his throat. Heat, Tim realized absently. “We’re gonna change that.”
Well, they never got around to changing that, because Jason probably didn’t remember by the next morning. But he did drag Tim to the middle of his bed, build a nest around him, and fall asleep with the beta pup safe in his arms.
So… not a total loss.
************
Batman had a son.
A very angry, very unstable, very competitive son.
“Timothy Drake,” the pup spat as soon as he entered the upstairs of the manor, like Tim was an arch-nemesis & must be defeated at all costs.
Knowing the League of Assassins… yeah. Probably.
Tim attempted a chuff without looking away from his tablet. He wasn’t an omega, so he wasn’t very good at it, but the effect should still be the same. It stopped the kid in his tracks, at least, and gave Tim enough time to muster up his lowest most soothing beta croon.
The kid’s shoulders inched down, but his scowl deepened. “Trickery.”
Tim tucked his legs up beneath him, giving the boy a once-over. He was short, but strong-looking. He’d make a good alpha if that was his eventual presentation.
The young pup, as if sensing Tim’s internal summary, straightened. Understanding came together in Tim’s thought-process. Approval, the pup’s body-language begged hopefully. Please-accept-me.
Tim turned back to his work, chuffing again. The kid huffed irritably, but went to his side, crossing his arms. “What are you---”
Tim tugged the kid closer, plopping him down on the couch next to him, and showed him the screen. “Do you know anything about the newest laser-grid security system?”
The pup stiffened, but he didn’t move away. Uncertain, it seemed. “Of course.”
“Good.” Tim swiped at the screen. “I’m trying to complete this set of coding here; make this prototype harder to replicate so that a Rogue can’t up & steal it without asking. Think you can help me with that?”
The kid clicked his tongue, scornful, but he took the tablet & began exploring.
Tim leaned back, taking up his sketchbook. It was pretty quiet for a while.
“Why are you doing this?” the pup eventually asked, his voice much more hesitant.
Tim glanced up, offering a smile, and pushed tired-accepting-calm-soothe-pack into his scent. “No need to waste resources on fighting, I guess. There’s room for both of us.”
Damian clicked his tongue again, a bit of entitlement returning to his tone. “I want Robin.”
Tim forced himself to remain non-reactive for a moment. Memories of flashing green eyes, of someone else demanding the mantle that he’d earned, flipped through his thoughts. Grueling months of hard physical training; potentially gone with the single demand of an insolent child.
He curled closer to the new pup, scenting his hair casually with calm-safe-pack, and said, “I think we can work something out.”
************
Tim Drake’s beta abilities did not come in handy when Batman disappeared.
************
Nor when Dick refused to join him on his quest to bring their father home, choosing instead to grieve. Tim finally left Damian the Robin mantle, hoping that the pup would do more good in Gotham than he, and set out alone.
************
The beta’s abilities were not useful again even after Bruce Wayne was finally home. Even Jason had returned for the reunion, his inner omega hopeful at the prospect of pack. The gang was back together again.
Tim pulled the blinds, tucked himself into a stale not-nest, and breathed.
************
He woke up to the sounds of gentle purring & rumbling.
“Shit,” he mumbled coherently, trying to sit up. He couldn’t quite make it, on account of the sounds in his nest making everything pleasantly floaty. There were people here, too. A handful of alphas & one omega, and sitting by the bed in a kitchen chair, Bruce himself, book cracked open & reading-glasses perched on the end of his nose.
“What?” Tim mumbled tremulously.
Jason ran an aggressive wrist through his hair, purring harder. Tim was squished against the omega’s chest, so the sound was dangerously soothing. “Betas need pack, too, y’know.”
Dick hummed an agreement, slinging an arm around Tim from the other side & nuzzling alpha-safe-protect-fond-pack into his hair. It felt a lot like an apology.
“Tt.” Damian curled closer around Tim’s legs, eyeing the others with sleepy distaste. “He has obviously not caught up on his sleep. Leave him be.”
“But,” Tim tried quietly, heartsick & hopeful at the soothing pack presence pressing in on him. “I’m… I’m not useful anymore.”
“Oh Tim,” Dick sighed sadly.
“You don’t have to be,” Jason broke in, vehement. He tucked Tim’s head under his chin, where the soothe-fierce-brother-loved-protect was strongest. “You’re pack.”
Tim closed his eyes, allowing himself the luxury of being held. Maybe it was possible that they’d all sorted their own problems, for once. Maybe… just maybe… Tim Drake, beta pup, was the most valued member of the Wayne Pack.