more drafted scenes! They are not done! They are in order but not necessarily connected. There is some work to do in between and there's some plot building that I have to do (lame) but youll get the gist. I hope you like it!
"Hey fuckass,” Hood snapped, “What the hell was that? Can’t give a guy a little warning?”
Tim coughed into the smoke. “I’m- fuck. That was my bad,” Tim admitted lowly. He brushed the lingering red embers off his suit and said, “I wasn’t paying attention to the skylight-”
“You weren’t paying attention? Get your head outta your ass, Red,”
Tim sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll- I’ve got it,” Tim gestured to the smoking [plot]. Tim could feel the incredulous look he was getting through Jason’s red helmet. “I’ve got it,” Tim insisted again, more confident.
Jason huffed, voice modulator turning it growly, and stalked out of the smokey store and back into the main walkway through the mall.
Jason yanked his helmet off and immedaitely snarled at him, "What in the absolute fuck-" he cut himself off.
Tim's hackles rose as Jason's focus zeroed in on him. He watched Jason's nose twitch, watched his head cock to the side as scented the air, and immediately felt caught.
“You reek,” Jason accused.
“Thanks,” Tim said dryly, "you say the sweetest things."
Jason ignored him. “Are you in rut right now?”
"No," Tim lied, "I'm a week out. Do-"
“You’re totally in rut right now,” Jason realized aloud.
“No, it’s- I’m fine,” Tim shrugged it off. “Do you have eyes on [bad guy]?”
Jason shook his head, “Nope, nuh-huh, nada. Go home, birdie.”
Tim let out a tired huff. “Hood,” Tim sighed, “I’m fine. I’ve got all my faculties-”
“You just took a hit that you should have dodged in your sleep, you’ve been missing traps all night, and I can see the sweat on your face even though it’s 40 fuckin’ degrees out. You are not fine,” Jason told him, tone definitive.
"The entire fucking mall is on fire," Tim argued, "of course I'm sweaty."
Jason stepped into his space and Tim was immediately reminded that he was in rut and Jason was his favorite O. The musky scent of sweat and spicy omega danger stroked heat up the base of his spine and prickled at the nerves under his jaw.
Jason gave Tim a smug look, plucked the keys to Red Bird right out of his belt pocket, and started toward Tim's ride, and Tim didn’t do anything to stop him.
Red Bird beeped as Jason unlocked and started it with just the remote. He got into the driver's side like an asshole and Tim followed behind like the dull-brained A he was.
The second Tim closed the door behind him, he rolled the passanger window down. Even with the heavy layer of smoke and Jason's bat-grade scent blockers, he could still taste the heady, warm scent of omega. His blood hit agaisnt the walls of his veins harder at the smell.
Jason slipped Tim's ride through traffic at an unreasonable speed and with infuratingly attractive grace. Tim tried to focus on the sharp wind and sounds of traffic instead of the feeling of tight kevlar agsint his hot, clamy skin.
"You stocked up on stuff at your place?” Jason asked, breaking the silence.
“I’ve got stuff,” Tim told the road, instead Jason’s stunning side profile and mussed helmet hair.
“No, Tim, I’m asking if you are specifically stocked up with rut in mind.” Jason glanced to the side at him and Tim made an effort to keep his eyes on the road. “Tim?” Jason pushed.
It was his rut that was making him a sloppy vigilante and an irritable person, and he knew that, but he was still pissed that he performed poorly—in front of Jason, all people—and irritable that he felt like shit. His temples wouldn't stop painfully pulsing and there was an equally unpleasant but significantly warmer pulsing near his groin. Tim bit back on the urge to growl at nothing, or maybe everything.
“I am stocked with all of my normal shit that has kept me alive for the last four years,” Tim snapped, “so you can fuck off with the mother hening.”
Jason flicked the blinker on and rolled into a left turn lane, only to flip a U-turn and start heading away from Tim’s place.
“We are going to mine, we are getting you the proper shit, and then if you want me to take you back to yours, I will. But you are not holing up in your apartment with nothing but energy drinks and tortilla chips.” His tone was chastizing and certain. Jason cared, clearly, and a back edge of Tim’s brain liked that he cared, but the clearer part was pissed that he was being treated like a newly presented teen. The ridicule was not easing any of his rut-induced irritation.
Tim could have and maybe should have made an effort to hide that better.
The silent drive through Mid Town was tense and uncomfortably warm. It occurred to Tim that maybe he was tense and uncomfortably warm, not the car, and that concept irked him more than it had any right to.
Jason brought his right hand to his mouth and bit the seam of his glove’s middle finger, and tugged it off with his teeth. The faint reflection in the windshield was impossible to ignore.
“Tim,” Jason offered lowly.
Tim huffed, “Fuck off." He could tell that he didn't mean it, even as he said it.
Apparently, Jason could also tell. He reached over the center console and slid his hand along the back of Tim’s shoulder, over his armor and up to the exposed back of his neck.
He was an O, and more importantly, he was their O. Tim's O. Tim's O sunk his fingers into the sweaty hair at the nape of Tim’s neck and Tim melted.
"See?" Jason said lightly, "I'm not so bad."
Tim made a noise he would have been embarrassed about if he had any braincells left to be embarrassed with.
With his thumb, Jason gently stroked back and forth right under Tim's jaw, right along the sensitive and achy line of connecting muscle. His fingertips scritched at the back of his neck, over his nape and into the sweaty hair at the back of his skull.
Tim's head lolled forward as he pushed his neck back into Jason's touch, soothing and gentle and pleasant.
"Hey," Jason whispered, "I'm gonna run upstairs real quick and be back in less than five minutes. Hang tight, yeah?"
They had parked at some point, apparently. He wasn't really paying attention to anything but he hand in his hair. Tim made a noise of agreement without thinking, only for Jason took his hand off of him and open the door. The instinctual back edge of his hindbrain immediately disagreed.
Jason dropped his chin and gave Tim a low, serious look. The hot embarressment prickled under Tim's cheeks.
He had growled. Honest to god, like a bad movie, growled.
Tim swallowed around his dry throat. He whispered, mortified, "Sorry."
Jason's dark brows twitched up. He said, "You're lucky I like you, cause I've shot As for less."
He likes me he likes me he likes me
"Stay in the car," Jason order, "Don't growl at anyone else. I'll be back in five, just- be good." He closed the door behind him and Tim was left in an enclosed space that smelled like smoke and sour embarrassment. He wanted out immediately.
Five minutes, he reminded himself, be good.
Easier said than done. He itched to track Jason down by scent alone, to follow him upstairs. To be in his space, to be in a space that smelled like him. To be near him. He wanted to curl up in Jason's bed and stay there, stay there with him. He wanted Jason-
The trunk popped open and Tim startled in his seat. He turned around to watch Jason throw a few bags into trunk and then slam it shut. Tim tracked him with sharp eyes back to the driver's door.
"Were you good?" Jason teased.
Tim's cheeks warmed. He grumbled, "Fuck off."
Jason dropped a bottle of Gatorade in his lap and put the car in reverse. He put his hand behind Tim's seat to look back and Tim couldn't help but push his head back toward Jason's hand.
"Drink that," Jason ordered.
Tim grumbled at the order but did as he was told, cracking the seal and drinking it.
He didn't know that he was thirsty until he was half way done with it, and only realized that part of his headache was probably due to poor hydration once he finished the bottle.
Tim twisted the cap back on and admitted, "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Jason said easily. He teased, "If I put my hand back, am I going to get it back without issue?"
Tim bit back an embarrassed grumble and turned back to the window, baring the back of his neck in a non-verbal answer.
[tension? irk tim a lil bit for fun]
Jason closed Tim's apartment door behind them and ordered, “Go take a shower.” He said it like Tim was a child, like he needed to be mothered.
Tim was already going to shower, but the order—the tone—made his hackles raise. He grumbled, "You're not in charge of me."
"I am, actually," Jason said dryly. He pointed down the hall and ordered, "Shower. You reek. And I need to clean this place up."
Insult after insult, one to his person and the next to his space, layered with a claim for dominance and a demand for obedience. Something deep in his chest snarled.
Tim stepped into his space and growled, “This is my home, asshole. You don’t like it? You can get the fuck out.”
Jason was taller than him by a good half a head and wider by a notable amount. He did not falter. He looked down his nose at Tim, like he was a child, and lowered his voice. “You cannot alpha growl and big-dick posture at me and get away with it,” Jason’s mouth thinned into a tight snarl, “and you fucking know it, Tim.”
"My home," Tim snapped back. "You can't order me around in-"
Jason snarled at him, low and sharp and omega. He snapped, “I can order you around wherever the fuck I want. I am the pack O and you know it.”
Tim opened his mouth to snap back, and then realized he couldn't.
Jason took a half step back and huffed. The air tinted sour and acrid.
Tim rocked back on his heels, reeling a bit. Embarressed and unsettled and uncomfortable in his own skin. He swallowed and said quietly, “I thought you didn’t want to be the pack O.”
“I didn’t,” Jason said quickly, “but Dick and B and you fucking pushed me to just accept it, and it makes sense for Dames, so now I fucking am and you all have to deal with it. So stop growling at me and go get in the damn shower.”
[ruminate in the shower ? connect scenes]
"Are you," Tim hesitated, "staying?" He assumed Jason would have left him to his own by then, given his behavior.
"Yeah," Jason said simply. Tim watched him move around the kitchen like it was his own until he stilled suddenly. Jason looked up at him and asked, "Unless you don't want me to? I can go."
"No, I- I just," Tim shurgged, "I didn't think you would want to, you know," he waved a hand around.
Jason gave him a low look. "Do my job?"
"Be anywhere near an alpha in rut," Tim corrected.
Jason rolled his eyes. "Being near an A in rut is like half the job, Tim. I don't have to stay if you don't want me to," Jason offered again.
Tim's hindbrain spoke for him, "I want you to stay."
"Great, sit," Jason pointed at one of the barstools, "I'm almost done."
[while eating early early breakfast together]
"How do you usually do this?" Jason asked.
"Uh, I don't know," Tim shurgged. "I work from home and sleep a lot? Mine pass pretty quick, the last one was only four days," Tim told him.
"Lucky," Jason snarked. "Okay, well, I guess I'll just," he trailed off.
"Yeah?" Jason leaned back and said, "Last time I did this with Roy all I did was make sure he ate real food and sleep next to him."
Tim's hackles rose at the idea of Jason being in the same room as another A during rut. He took an intentional breath and ignored the unreasonable possive instinct.
"Should you call out of work?" Jason asked.
"I can just work from home," Tim said again.
Jason dropped his chin and looked at him. "That's not what I asked. Should you call out?"
"No? I function just fine, I just sleep a bit more-"
"You function fine?" Jason asked. He leaned back and crossed his arms. "In the least stereotypical overbearing-O way possible, this is literally your body saying it's time to rest and recoup, not-" Jason waved a few fingers around, "serve the shareholders."
Tim sighed. "Yes, but there's work to be done-"
"WE gives all employees seasonal leave for a reason, Tim."
Tim looked at him. Jason's dark brows twitch up as he held Tim's stare.
"Take a break," Jason ordered. "I'm not here to watch you send emails, I'm here to make sure you take care of yourself. To-" Jason swallowed, "take care of you for you. It's literally the job," Jason repeated, like he needed an excuse to care about his pack.
"Can I- do you," Jason trailed off, hesitant.
"Yeah," Tim said quickly, "yeah, of course. Let me just," he took a jolted step back and started for his room- his den.
His den was a fucking mess.
He frantically threw dirty clothes into the already full basket, shoved dirty wrappers and cans into the trash, staked an embarrassingly old dirty bowl on a dirty plate, pushed-
"Tim," Jason called softy.
Tim straightened up and leaned on his desk like it would hide it. He cleared his throat, "Yeah?"
Jason gave him a knowing look. "Can I help?"
Tim's cheeks felt like they were neon red. "Uh- well-"
"I would like to help," Jason corrected himself, tone gentle. He added, "Roy's place is way worse, by the way."
Tim swallowed. He admitted, "This is pretty bad." It looked like he didn't take care of his space, and signaled poor-denmanship to his packmate. It was not a trait that O's looked for in A's. Tim bit back on his sour shame.
Jason leaned against his doorframe, still respecting the lack of permission to enter, and challenged, "The apartment B found me squatting in had literal rats. I kept my cereal in a tin coffee can cause it was the only thing I had that they couldn't chew through. This is nothing, Tim."
"That's super depressing," Tim informed him, "and doesn't make me feel better."
"Your place looks lived in and loved," Jason said, ignoring him, "which are not things to be embarressed about."
"It's a disaster," Tim argued, "and a sign of bad denmanship."
Jason shook his head. "It's a sign that I made the right call to hang around and you need your pack."
Tim opened his mouth to argue, but Jason beat him to it. "You were planning on working through your rut, Tim. You aren't taking care of yourself or your space. This is literally the time for that," Jason reminded him. "Like, literally. Biologically. This is the time when you take care of your space and then relax in it. Settle in. Let me help," Jason asked again, "I want to help."
Tim swallowed around his embarressment and nodded.
Jason pushed off the doorframe and made right for Tim. He stepped into Tim's space, cupped the back of his head and ever so gently pulled him in. Tim went easily, tilting his face up so Jason could press his forehead to Tim's.
"This," he emphasized quietly, "is the whole point." Jason whispered, breath soft against Tim's lips, "okay?"
Pack, Tim's hindbrain filled in, this is the whole point of having a pack.
He had said something similar to Steph when she was at her lowest, and he heard it himself from Dick during his first season of presentation. Helping and being helped, giving and taking, holding and being held—the whole point of having a pack.
Tim pushed his nose into Jason's and took a slow breath, he found smoke and warmth and the heady scent of Jason, of omega in the air. "Okay," he echoed just as quietly.
I hope you lik it! I just wanted to say hello! and promise that I was still working on it! <333333333333
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