It's been a year since Damian gave up on Gotham nightlife and moved out of the manor, but his family members seem to drop by every other week. He wants a little space to focus on his DVM program, but they're so happy to see him he can't physically say no.
Except Hood, he pops up every other day like an annoying roommate. Damian remembers telling Jason that his apartment isn't going to be another one of his safehouses. All he got was a laugh and a ruffle of his hair.
In the end, Damian doesn't do much to keep Jason out. There's a dresser for Jason's effects and half of Damian's laundry basket are his clothes. Hell, he even traded his couch for one of those fold-out ones because Jason kept crashing the night. Damian can't have Red Hood slipping up because of a crick in his back.
And the couch also does a good job of providing space for family game nights. While Damian slimmed out over the months, his family doesn't slouch. Two or more of them pack an uncomfortable amount of beef when they intrude in his apartment. So really, the couch's a good decision.
At least, that's what Damian tells himself.
He's in the middle of vacuuming when he gets a text. It's probably not important so he decides to ignore it. Three more successive pings follow.
do we have any milk?
baby brat
damian
damiiiii
Damian strolls over to the fridge and opens it. He sees the almond milk he only just broke into yesterday and reaches for Jason's milk carton. He shakes it. Empty.
Only my almond milk. You're at the grocer's?
ya
Do you mind picking up some pumpkin seed granola? And a bag of spinach.
Damian rolls his eyes at the lol and thumbs up emoji he gets before going back to cleaning. It isn't until 10 minutes later that he realizes he forgot to give Jason the brand he preferred.
He hurriedly googles the brand and sends the picture over. He's not picky, but the other brand has a terrible reputation for where they source their ingredients. He would rather not suffer guilty pangs each time he tries to snack.
i gotchu, Jason replies, followed up by a picture of the correct brand packed into his motorcycle's trunk.
Damian rarely uses emojis, but he sends a couple over expressing his gratitude. He's about to put down his phone, assuming Jason's going to start driving soon, when he gets another text from Jason.
It's that kissing emoji. The kissing emoji with a heart.
A warmth blooms across his cheeks--why--and Damian exits the message app in a panic.
Damian closes his eyes, face pinched as he squashes down this unknown feeling he has had whenever Jason gets too close recently. The word is on the tip of his tongue but he's not going to address it even under the threat of death.
Deep, steady breath. The warmth fades from his face. Nope. Nope. Nope. He's not going to think about it.
--
In the end, he does have to think about it, because Richard is a nosy idiot and he managed to catch Jason and Damian snuggling on the couch. Again. The fourth time. That month.
"We were watching a movie. It was cold," Damian says, wondering why he's even treating Richard out to coffee when he's the one getting teased.
On the other hand, Richard has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. "I dunno. It's kinda suspicious if you ask me. You didn't even cuddle me that much and you were ten."
"I was edgy," Damian protests.
"You were a baby. You're still a baby to me though," Richard says wistfully, pulling away to avoid a punch to his arm. "And now my baby's got a crush on--"
He hasn't intimidated a villain in a while, but Damian musters all of the venom he has to offer in a singular, "Don't."
Richard doesn't even flinch, just laughs. Heathen. "You're a grown man now. You're making your own decisions--good decisions. I know this sounds cheesy but you should follow your heart this time too."
"I don't have any feelings for him. Or anyone," Damian grumbles.
"Sure, sure. Discount my deductive training," Richard laments as he links his arm with Damian's. "Alright, let's say you don't. But think about how Jason's been treating you this past year. Why don't you consider his feelings for a bit?"
And isn't that something to chew on.
--
Damian despises reading people. He has picked up hundreds of books on behavioral science and psychology, attended dozens of seminars helmed by world-renowned behaviorists. Yet he still finds himself baffled by the complexity of people.
It isn't that they're deep. They're just...complicated. Animals are so much more straightforward in comparison.
But Damian does make a genuine attempt to put his and Jason's relationship into perspective. When he first sat down to write what he knew of Jason, he had a few scant notes. Name, birthday, height, the model of his motorcycle, the location of his safehouses, his favorite food, his friends. The basics.
But then, he starts to note down their interactions. The little things he knows about Jason and Jason seem to know about him.
His observation notebook (he refuses to call it a diary) fills up startlingly quick.
The first week, he writes down things like how Jason knows his favorite take-out and how he would always drain the pot of coffee that Damian leaves him. And the fact that Damian even leaves a pot of coffee for him in the first place.
They're roommates. It's courteous but normal.
The second week, Damian notes that Jason showed an intimate knowledge of his schedule, only arriving when he knew Damian to be home. He also showed up at the university when he knew the buses and trains to be running over time. He would prepare dinner on the days Damian called in late and picked up groceries when Damian was too busy or simply forgot. He knew Damian's favorite cruelty-free brands. Damian knew his favorite hot dog brand. They would take turns with laundry but Damian was always the one to fold them.
Okay, so they're a little bit domestic...Damian frowns at his notebook. This is. Fine.
The third week, Damian realizes what Richard meant when he said Jason and him had been close. Damian had a cuddle counter for every day, but he hadn't remembered to total them until now. Fifteen. Fifteen times this past week he either woke up in Jason's arms, snuggled with Jason under a blanket, or flopped over him when he was too tired to drag himself to bed. He shuts his notebook, throws it into a drawer, and goes to sleep.
In the fourth week, Jason asks him to pick up aftershave. People were shooting Damian weird looks but he doesn't know why until it dawns him several minutes later. Why. Why was he sniffing them instead of asking Jason. Why does he know what Jason's aftershave smells like.
Damian buries his face in his palms as he experiences a certain life-changing epiphany in the checkout line.
--
Damian slams open and close the door. His neighbor shouts something obscene but he isn't paying attention. "Jason. Oh my god, I'm such an idiot."
Jason is splayed across the couch, a tub of ice-cream in one arm and his phone in the other. He looks up. "What."
Damian holds up the aftershave.
He receives a frown. "You got my aftershave, so?"
"You didn't give me the brand. You keep your stuff in the half bathroom that I never use."
It takes Jason a second, but the Batman-trained detective mind gets whirling. He arrives at the same revelation not soon after. "Oh. Ohhh. Wow. Took you long enough."
Damian whines. "Jason, please."
Jason just sits up and shifts to one end of the couch. He pats the seat besides him, which Damian gladly plops down on.
Jason passes him the ice-cream and spoon. "So...you wanna talk about it?"
"Yes." For once, Damian doesn't check out the brand. He has had enough of brands.
"Oh thank fucking lord," Jason mutters underneath his breath. "I mean, how do you wanna start this."
"Do you like me?" Damian asks through a mouthful of frozen delight, eyes wide and expectant at Jason.
Holy shit, they're bad at heart-to-hearts. "Okay, first of all, why can't you confess to me. Second of all, yes, I do, have liked you for a while now."
"Oh, okay." Jason raises an eyebrow, so Damian continues, "I think I like you too."
"You think?"
"I'm positive I like you but give me some time okay. I don't think I've liked anyone before."
Jason's about to say something when he decides to go back to his phone. Damian ponders and snacks on his ice-cream forlornly. He drops to Jason's chest five minutes later.
"Okay. I've held a flame for you for a while. At least since I bought you that dresser."
"Really? I liked you since you dry cleaned my jacket. At least."
"You liked me before I liked you?" Damian puts his hand over his mouth, scooting closer and halfway on Jason's lap now. "That's embarrassing."
Jason cuffs him on the head. "You're the one who took months to figure it out."
Damian isn't deterred, pushing Jason against the couch. "If you had known, why didn't you tell me?"
Wrapping an arm around Damian's waist, Jason nuzzles at his collar. "Because if I did, you would've pushed me away for weeks."
"I would have not--no, no. Wait, you might be right." It's getting hot, but Damian recalls that solid week where he hadn't touched his observation journal. A hand slides up his shirt. They meet each other's eyes, just taking in each other.
"Mm...so...do you wanna kiss or make out? I've been waiting for a while."
Damian furrows his eyebrows in consternation. "It's almost six, we should prepare dinner--"
Jason groans, but Damian cuts him off with a peck to his lips. He pulls away just as sudden, hands trembling on Jason's shoulders.
"Kidding," Damian says with a breathy, nervous laugh as Jason leans in for another kiss.
When Princess Talia Al Ghul appeared with a boy whom she claimed to be King Bruce's son, the kingdom of Gotham was thrown into chaos.
King Bruce perished on a hunting trip not long after the boy's arrival. The princess herself vanished into thin air, leaving her son behind to face the suspicion and scrutiny of the royal court alone.
The newly anointed king, Richard, appoints Jason as Damian’s personal guard. Unfortunately for Jason, Damian, desperate to prove himself worthy of his name, took to the streets of Gotham.
It's a shame that the League seems to abhor omegas. This means he, the only other omega in the compound, had to watch over some kid's first heat.
Talia more or less threw the child at him and told him to take care of it. Jason, who had only just presented before his death. Jason, who had even less experience in supervising another omega's first heat.
After Jason tucked the kid in, he asked who he was. Talia gave him a withering glare in response.
"No one," she spat out before marching away.
"You owe me!" Not really, since he's staying in the compound on her dime.
One look at the child's face confirms Jason's suspicions.
No one. Jason rolls his eyes. Yeah, right.
So really, he couldn't say this child is 'some kid'. This kid's the prince he heard so much about from the servants. This kid's the vicious heir who had no problem taking out his own cousin's eye for Ra's Al Ghul's favor.
This kid's Bruce's biological son.
Now, Jason won't stoop so low as to harm a child, no matter how much of a terror he's rumored to be or how much Bruce Jason sees in him. But he distinctively recalls telling Talia that he's going to take revenge against Bruce for abandoning him and all that jazz. And he knows while they were intimate once, it wasn't out of trust.
Seriously, is she okay?
He snaps out of his thoughts by pained groans coming from his bed.
"Mother."
Right, the kid.
"Your mother isn't here," Jason says, brushing the boy's sticky hair from his forehead. He's sweating profusely and it’s getting all over his sheets. Ugh.
Jason did go to school at some point so he should know how to take care of this, even if his interest isn't in health or biology. Omegas not in heat supposedly exert this pheromone that avails those who are, lessening their heat pains and reducing the heat's length.
So, how is he supposed to do this? Is it naturally occurring or does he have to, like, concentrate really hard?
Fuck that bullshit myth about omegas knowing how to do everything instinctively. Jason hasn't felt this lost since he busted out of his own coffin.
Jason tries to remember what Dick had done for him during his own heat. His memories are fuzzy. There was an intense heat (duh), then Dick's cool hand on his forehead. After that, he somehow passed the rest of it in a soothing, if albeit warm, daze.
God, what wouldn't he do to have Dick here now.
The boy peers up at him, his eyes barely focused. "Who...are you?"
Jason doesn't reply for the longest time. This prompts the boy to try to get up, but Jason immediately tucks him back under the thin blanket. "Nuh-uh. Talia left you here, so I'm your caretaker until your heat's over."
The boy frowns. "I'm an alpha. I can't have heats. I must've been poisoned. It's not...it's not a heat."
Poor kid’s in denial. Jason opens his mouth to argue, but decides against it. "Doesn't matter. Your mother handed you off to me. Let me do my job. The sooner you recover, the sooner we can both be on our way." Whenever that'll be.
The boy glares at him. "You should be more respectful if you know what's good for you."
"Yeah, well, I don't even know your name," Jason replies as he grabs clean towels from his closet. He gives them a sniff to make extra sure they're clean.
"What!?" The fact that the boy can carry a full conversation and sound so indignant is amazing. Jason could barely think through his own heat until recently. It’s a testament to League training and discipline. "I'm Damian Al Ghul, heir to the--"
"--League of Assassins yeah, yeah. Don't know about you but your lips are pretty loose for an assassin."
That gets Damian to shut up real quick. Probably doesn't want to compromise any more of himself in his feverish daze.
Jason grabs a metal basin. "I'm gonna get some water. Don't move."
Damian glares at his retreating back and rolls over.
Resisting a sigh, Jason fills the basin with cool water and props himself against the counter.
What is he doing? He should be stomping out of here, yelling at Talia to take proper care of her son. Don't foist the kid on random people! But Jason knows he isn't anyone.
He hulls the filled basin to the bedroom, glad to see Damian still there. The slightest twitch of his body tells Jason he's aware of Jason's return.
"Alright, princeling, I'm gonna wipe you down. Can't have you sweating all over my bed." Jason says, wetting a towel with the cool water.
Thankfully, Damian offers minimal resistance, only glaring at him as Jason maneuver his limbs. Now Jason wouldn't admit it out loud on the threat of death, but he can see the appeal of caretaking in some weird way.
Or maybe it's because Damian gives off grouchy cat vibes so it's entertaining as hell to see the kid with a wet towel cooling his forehead.
At some point, Damian is dozing on and off due to his intense heat. Cute. He should probably get some water and fruit from the kitchen. The kid's gonna be dehydrated from all that sweating. Jason rises, but something tiny grabs at his fingers.
"Stay," Damian whines, bleary green eyes staring up at him.
Oh, god. He sounds so spoiled.
Much to Jason’s indignity, he finds himself flushing instead because the mix of Bruce and Talia's features on the kid is doing things to his poor heart. Think about your revenge, think about your revenge, think about how Bruce betrayed you--
He finds himself crumpling underneath the scrunch of Bruce's noses and Talia's brilliant green eyes. He couldn't pull away and squeezes Damian's tiny hand back. Fine, he'll indulge his heart just this once. "I'm here, kiddo."
Tim's intervention, more often than not, is completely unwarranted. But, Damian can't say he isn't interested in information. More specifically, information that pertains to his partner.
Jason and him have sat down and talked about their expectations, had proper conversations like any healthy couple. They aren't always frank with each other. Bruce's fault, they suppose.
Which is why he's with Jason now in his safehouse, nursing a mug of Earl Grey with print outs of Jason's three-week porn history splayed out on his table.
It has been eight minutes since they sat down, seven since Damian pulled out the pages. Each tick of the clock sounds louder than the last. The silence is deafening.
Not to mention awkward.
Damian is the first to speak. After all, he's the one who brought this topic to light.
"Do you want me to call you daddy, Jason?"
Jason chokes on his tea, spilling droplets onto his lap.
"Uhhh. I don't know what you mean."
He's not meeting Damian's eyes.
"It's probably just a coincidence." Jason rubs his mug nervously. "I'm just clicking whatever's on the top page. Besides, porn throws around the word daddy so often. It's not like a sign of daddy kink or whatever."
Damian looks minutely disappointed with his reply and it's making Jason feel terrible.
"I don't think nine daddy kink videos straight on Pornhub's top page is mathematically likely," Damian says softly.
"Uh, algorithm?"
Damian looks back at the print-out, visibly recounting the list with his eyes, and levels Jason a look. "Sorry, did I say nine? I meant 12."
Jason whimpers.
"Jason, God, I'm sounding like Dick here but I want to open a dialogue--" Damian pauses. "Maybe…I'm misinterpreting something? Do you want to call me daddy?"
"Oh god," Jason exclaims, properly scandalized. He looks like he has a headache coming on. "Jesus fuck, no."
Jason keeps his gaze to his tea. "Look, it's just awkward to ask someone who has...this thing about his parents, y'know? I mean, not like I don't have one too."
Jason snaps his head up when he hears a silver of laughter coming from Damian. "What are you laughing about!? I was trying to be considerate!"
That only serves to make Damian wheeze hard enough to set down his mug. "I'm--I'm sorry, Jason. I can't help--you know 'father' and 'daddy' are two different things, right?"
"...yeah?"
"Think of it this way. Would you think of me as your son if I called you daddy?"
Jason presses down his feelings upon hearing the word 'daddy' and takes time to actually think. If Damian is putting it like that then wow, he does sound ridiculous.
"God, I'm stupid." Jason groans and buries his face into his palms.
It takes Damian several seconds too long before he stops laughing, but the aftereffects are clear. His eyes are wet with mirth and his face flushed from exertion. Damian gets up and scoots his chair so he's next to Jason rather than across the table. He wraps one arm around Jason in a half hug, pulling him to his chest.
"No need for self-depreciation. Let's communicate better next time, alright?"
Jason nods and breathes onto Damian's collarbone with a sigh.
After a while of awkward cuddling, Jason opens his mouth. "So...you're fine with it?"
"...Yes?"
"Can you call me it, then?"
"I don't see why not."
But that's where Damian hesitates. When Damian opens his mouth again, nothing came out. He closes and opens it yet again. Still, nothing.
Jason raises an eyebrow.
Damian blushes, avoiding eye contact. "I...I can't say it."
It's Jason's turn to be speechless. He gawps openly before reaching out to pinch Damian's cheeks. "I heard you say daddy like, twice. Is this revenge? Are you cockblocking me, you fiend??"
Damian smacks Jason's arm, trying to pull him off. "Nuh!"
"Oh my god, you're cockblocking me," Jason whines, pinching Damian's other cheek and stretching.
Damian flails even more, smacking Jason in the face. This prompts Jason to give up on stretching his cheeks, and manhandles him into a chokehold. Instead of choking, Jason just noogies him, the bastard.
"If you can't call me daddy, I'll settle for uncle," Jason teases as he pushes Damian down against the table with his weight.
Damian mumbles something.
"Hm, what's that? I can't hear you."
"Da...daddy," Damian breathes out with a wicked grin on his face.
Ah.
Jason accidentally squeezes Damian's neck harder in surprise. A moan. He feels himself growing warm and hard.
It's a quiet afternoon in the library. This silence allows Jason to think.
The best thing about Damian, Jason muses, is how tiny he is. Tinier now that he's curled up and napping into Jason's embrace. He's so just so small with his legs pulled up and chin tucked to his chest.
Hilariously, Damian has one arm just hanging out, so Jason takes Damian's hand into his own. He runs his fingers across Damian's palm, feeling for calluses and scars.
Damian is a small boy, but he isn't a soft one. This isn't a revelation. Jason knows this and has known for a while. But it's something that pains him to acknowledge.
Jason regrets not investigating Damian earlier, not looking into whispers of an heir while he was in the League. He would've whisked him away, only if to spare him a few years of missed childhood. Unlike Jason, he's still young. He still has a childhood left to salvage.
Like now.
Jason shakes himself out of his brooding. He can't dwell on the what-ifs.
Damian stirs underneath him and, belatedly, Jason realizes he's been holding his hand too tight. He relaxes his grip when an idea strikes him. With a grin, Jason presses down on Damian's fingertips and calluses, much like how one would fiddle with their cat's toe beans.
Damian frowns and wiggles his butt against Jason's lap. Cute.
Jason has to stifle a laugh as he continues to toy with Damian's outstretched hand.
"I know you're awake. Felt your heartbeat."
Damian opens one eye and tuts. "I was giving you the chance to have your fun. Or do you not like fun?"
"Oh, I do. But it's much better when you're awake." Jason lets go of his hand. Panic flashes across Damian's eyes immediately, because he knows exactly what Jason is going to do. He's already trapped by one of Jason's arms, and Jason’s wiggling his free hand’s fingers at him menacingly.
It seems like Damian's laughter reached other parts of the mansion because footsteps are thumping outside the library. Dick bursts through the double doors soon after.
"Damian, are you--! Oh." He looks baffled, looking between Jason and Damian as if the scene in front of him is the last thing he would ever expect.
"Wanna join?" Jason asks, monotone as he tickles Damian into oblivion.
Damian wheezes out, “Are you my Batman or not!?”
A smirk spreads across Dick's face as he inches closer, fingers wiggling in the same manner as Jason’s had earlier.
Jason has a good decade on Damian. This would be fine except it isn't because they're dating so they can't tell anyone. Not even Dick knows, and he will remain oblivious until Damian's 18. They can't have the man keel over on the spot.
(The rest of the family are out of the question. Especially Bruce.)
Granted, neither desire to act couple-like in public, so it isn't much of a loss. But, but that doesn't mean Damian can't fume when their waiter, call-me-Elliott, blatantly flirts with Jason.
The worst thing is, Jason's flirting back.
Elliott isn't bad looking. He could be called handsome, even, with his neatly combed blond hair and an easy smile. No, the terrible thing is that he's around Jason's age. Probably the same age, even, because grad students tend to part-time at this joint.
Damian gnaws on his metal straw, eyebrows set deeper than his usual scowl. He bites back annoyance as he watches the waiter slide over 10 digits on a napkin. Typical. He rolls his eyes and clears his throat loudly.
"The check," he says, tapping the rim of his drink, "if you will."
The waiter snaps out of his flirtatious mood, catching on the actual atmosphere from the teen's stink eye. "Oh, uh, yes, right away."
He scurries off--Damian venomously adds--like a rat.
Damian turns to Jason, who is finishing up the last of his mozzarella sticks. He isn't spared from Damian's annoyance. Flirting is a two-way street after all.
"At least have the courtesy to not flirt in front of me when I'm paying for your food," Damian hissed, snatching the napkin and crumpling it in his fist.
Jason rests his chin on his clean hand. He is smirking, the audacity of him. "But I love it when you're jealous. You get clingy, you know? Holding my arm, sidling up against me...you know, the cute things that give a man the fuzzy wuzzies."
Jason doesn't stop there because he leans in. "I know you're insecure about our age difference. But I'm yours. And you, mine."
Damian blinks, taken aback by the confession. A blush dusts his face and he kicks Jason under the table. When Jason doesn't even pretend to be affected, Damian tuts.
"You're insufferable."
"I try."
The waiter returns with their check, making eyes at Jason again. He's about to hand the older man the check before Damian grabs it midway. He slides his card, a proper Wayne Enterprise Black card, mind, between the leather without another glance.
"Try less, I implore you."
"Ooh, is that a please? Did the great Damian Wayne say please?"
Realizing his mistakes, Damian backtracks. "I said no such thing. I only advised you to be less of a public embarrassment."
"God, you're adorable." Jason faux swoons, but Damian can tell his lunch partner means what he said. This only serves to make him blush harder from embarrassment. Damian aims another kick, but Jason catches his foot between his calves.
With some maneuvering, Jason manages to encircle his fingers around Damian's ankle. He rubs meaningfully at it with his thumb. Damian's breath hitches. He couldn't pull away without jostling the table.
"Maybe I should do this more." A shiver runs up Damian's spine. Jason's voice seems to have dropped some octaves.
"Todd," Damian hisses, a warning edge to the mere name. But goddamn is it hard to keep himself steady under Jason's touch. "We're in public. Do you want someone to call the police?"
Jason hums, as if debating his options, only to let go when the waiter returns with their receipt. For the first time, Elliott's advances are warranted. Damian just can't believe he's relieved by the waiter's presence at all.
Damian quickly signs the receipt, tipping a considerable amount because while he is a jealous creature, there's no need to be a miserly one. He's shoving Jason out the door before his boyfriend could finish his soda.
Getting on Jason's motorcycle is a silent affair, the tension magnified by the stillness of the parking lot.
"Did that bother you?" Jason is the first to speak. Damian doesn't answer, which is good as a 'yes'. Jason groans, leaning against the handles. "God, sorry. I just...I know it's..."
"There's no need for apologies, Todd. You're supposed to be single and, as they say, ready to mingle." Jason chortles at this, starting the ignition.
Since Damian has never been able to wrap his arms around the entirety of Jason's torso, he settles for digging his fingers into the leather jacket. Revenge? Probably.
He rests his head against the expanse of Jason's back. "I know our arrangement is a private one. A scandalous one, if publicized. But I'm your lover and, sometimes, I want to act like one."
Jason's hand reaches for his, giving it a quick squeeze. "I feel like I don't say it enough but I love you. Let me make it up to you when we get back, yeah?"
Damian closes his eyes with a huff and nestles in. "You better."
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