A Successful Plan
Kanene's notes: LET'S GOOOO! I've really been into batfam lately and <3 <3 as I've said before the idea of writing a tickle fic w platonic a/b/o has been rotating on my mind forever so I hope you all like this silly story as much as I liked to write it <3.
Also big shout out to @august-anon for both dragging me into the Batfam fandom AND reading my brain about a/b/o tfics xDD
And! The idea of Tim getting very loopy after being tickled is heavily inspired by this fic so pls check out it too! ^^
Warnings: I've never read the comics so this is probably OOC. This is a platonic a/b/o AU, there are mentions of heats but it's purelly platonic and toothrotting fluff all around. Omega!Bruce Wayne. Ticklish!Tim & Ler!Bruce. Around 3.500 words.
[~*~]
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Hm.” Bruce answered, just the slightest upwards tilt on his lips, which was the equivalent of a shit-eating grin for him. More of the sleep-comfortable-safe pheromones that had been previously spreading slowly across the nest became stronger, probably already half way to impregnate the entire room.
Tim grumbled as his muscles instinctively relaxed even more on the sea of comforters and pillows surrounding them. The laptop on his lap tilted dangerously, the case he was analyzing on the screen blinking in and out in front of his exhausted eyesight.
The entire scenario was way too alluring to his already tired mind, especially since that was no way for him to make a quick escape to have at least one cup of coffee or snag a couple of his energy drinks from the hidden stash.
He growled petulantly when Bruce’s hand inched closer to the device in his peripheral view, only for the adult to change his trajectory to lay it across the teen’s shoulder, pulling him closer to him and using his other hand to dutifully comb his hair (as if he wasn’t the one to blame for its messy state), scratching his scalp in a way that only made his body want to melt even more until Tim was nothing but a puddle in the nest.
The scalding look he sent Bruce had no effect as the other continued with the careful combing. At least he was gracious enough to ignore the childish, tiny puppy-whine that sang in the back of his throat at this unfair treatment, quietly answering it with an amused but non sense chuff.
He sighed and started to save his documents and turn off the programs he was using, preparing to turn off the computer before Bruce began to brood and use even more unhanded methods to get him to rest.
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. “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)
Anyway that's it yipeee pls leave a comment if u can I would love to hear any thoughts about this story or this trope <3
