Chapter Text
“Babydoll?”
The voice came slow and syrupy-thick, wrapping around Jason where he crouched in the alleyway. Sweat dripped down his back, pooling in the divot of his spine. He shivered and pressed tighter against the wall, safely hidden behind a stack of wooden pallets and crates.
“Come on out, babydoll. We don’t wanna hurt you.”
Slurred words: drunk, or high, or both.
Through the thin slats of wood, Jason could just barely make out the torn denim of the man’s jeans, the way the moonlight caught on and illuminated the murky puddles scattered around. It had rained that morning. Jason’s hair was still wet.
“Come on, sweet thing.” Another voice, hungrier still. A second set of boots on the ground, kicking up dirty rainwater. “You’re achin’ for it, we know,” it crooned. “You know, my sister’s an omega like you—I know how bad it gets when you’re all alone.”
“Yeah, babydoll,” came the first voice again. He could hear one of the men taking loud, exaggerated sniffs of the air. “We can smell it on you—you don’t wanna be alone tonight, do you?”
Jason bit down on his tongue to hold back a whimper, cringing and pressing back further into the wall.
Stupid, he chided himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
He should have known better than to go out so close to his heat—had been on his own long enough and had stayed whole long enough to know goddamn better.
Jason was fifteen years old, and had been on the streets for half a decade by now. Fifteen years old, and had never once had to resort to selling himself during it. It was quick money but hard money, everyone knew, and a young ‘mega like him could have made $500 a night turning tricks, easy, but Jason had seen too intimately how his ma had been eaten from the inside out by her sicknesses to ever try it.
Her first sickness had been her love for his old man, pulling her teeth out one by one. Then it was her love for the drugs that made her first pain go away, slowly dragging its fingernails through her brain and raking out grey matter in long gooey scoops. Neither of those killed her though, not really. It was her last sickness that did: honest-to-God disease, aching raw nerves that ravaged her body—ones she got from her dealers, when she was strapped on cash and unwilling to trade away her only son.
Fifteen fucking years he’d made it, fifteen years he’d protected the sacrifice his mother had made to keep his body whole and clean, only to wind up losing it now to some strungout junkies in godforsaken Blüdhaven all because he had been too goddamn hungry to ignore his growling stomach, too goddamn weak to just power through until he came out the other side of his heat.
Bitter tears welled up in his eyes—Jason swallowed them back down. Some men liked to see their whores cry, he knew. He wouldn’t give these assholes that satisfaction.
“You gents getting started without me?” Another voice, one Jason hadn’t noticed earlier, whose footsteps had been so silent he hadn’t even heard them approach.
He flinched, eyes darting around the alley way through the crate’s thin slats, trying to get a visual on the newcomer. He didn’t want to be taken by surprise when—when it happened.
The two alphas closing in on him didn’t seem like they had been joined by a friend, didn’t act like it at least. They stilled. One’s foot was hanging precariously in the air, caught between rising and falling as he moved closer to Jason’s hiding spot. The air seemed to grow still too.
“You know,” said the third voice again. Jason darted his eyes around, wanting to see but unwilling to move and risk giving himself away. But the third man was nowhere in sight. “Just because you stop moving doesn’t mean I stop being able to see you. You do know that, right?”
The hanging foot fell with a heavy thud. It seemed relieved to touch the ground once more.
Jason heard a low growl—from which mouth he wasn’t sure, couldn’t see—and saw those heavy-booted feet with their torn jeans draw tighter together, backing away from Jason.
Minutely, he allowed himself to relax. But only slightly—just because those two were seceding in deference to whoever this new, stronger alpha is doesn’t mean Jason would be getting out of this any easier. One rapist may be better than two, may be better than three—but the nature of violation remains the same.
“Hey now!” Followed by an echoing thud.
Any ease Jason had felt drained out of him just as quickly. The thud wasn’t a gunshot—not loud enough, gunshots are spit-in-your-face, kick-in-your-teeth loud, and the thud was just loud-loud—but maybe something fell?
Jason wracked his brain to remember what the alleyway had looked like as he rushed in and hid. It was tight, narrow, and dark, a five-story apartment building on either side leaning in towards its twin, and empty clothesline stretched between their windows like hands reaching out to touch.
He couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or not that it had rained earlier, and that the clothes on the lines had been brought in to keep them dry. It was so tight in the alleyway that they might have formed a roof, blocking the moonlight illuminating the ground and helping to hide Jason. Now he could see his attackers better, but they could see him too.
Not for the first time, Jason cursed his instincts and his own inability to master them. The cramped space might have made a good emergency nest if he got stuck there, doubtless his hindbrain’s only worry, but it would spell his downfall if the alphas got any closer. There was no way he’d be able to make it past them in this small space.
Still, even under the haze of fear and heat and primal instincts, Jason knew: there was nothing in the alleyway that should have made that terrible thud.
Like a body dropping, he shivered.
The third alpha rounded into view, just at the alleyway’s mouth. From his position, crouched and curled up behind the crates, Jason could just barely make out his legs. There was something funny about the clothes he had on, all skintight and light-sucking—the moonlight seemed to sink into the man, or else avoid him altogether.
Jason peered closer at the newcomer, confused. What the fuck was this guy wearing?
“Shit, man.” Thick words, heavy words, sliding over Jason’s skin: the first alpha was speaking. “We don't wan’ any trouble. Kid migh’ smell good, but he’s not worth it.”
The words echoed around the alley. Jason was relieved and he knew his omega was too—didn’t want these alphas, not even in heat—but the words still stung a little. He sank back further against the wall.
“Great!” Jason couldn’t tell if the third alpha meant it or not. He heard the ringing slap of two hands clapping together, only once. “We’re in agreement then: you two’ll be spending the night far, far away from the omega. Namely, in a jail cell.”
A low growl started up again. Jason held still, frozen by the noise.
“Fuck all you uppity-little freaks. Think you’re better than us just ‘cause you run around in tights? Everyone knows a bitch in heat needs—“
Jason didn’t get to hear the rest of the sentence and find out what alpha #2 thought a bitch in heat—i.e., Jason—might need. It was cut off by the whipping sound of metal sailing through the air, something like a thin iron bat maybe, and meeting its mark with a resounding clang.
Jason couldn’t see the hit, but he could see its aftermath: how the alpha’s legs crumpled underneath him, how his hands twitched at his sides in shock or fear before flying up, how he fell backwards against the wall and slid, slowly, down. A thin line of blood trickled down the side of his head.
“That’s enough of that.”
The man—vigilante, probably, given the alpha’s comment about tights; Jason wracked his brain to figure out who or what Blüdhaven had haunting its streets, and came up blank—stepped over the fallen alpha’s body like it was no more an obstacle than the puddles on the ground.
The other alpha—the drunk alpha, the one with a scent thick like blood and honey—stepped backwards, too, to be further away from the vigilante. Further into the alleyway. Closer to Jason.
He watched through the thin slats as they continued their dance all the way down the alley, up until the backs of the drunk alpha’s legs were nearly pressed against the pallet he hid behind. Jason held his breath, waiting.
“Are we doing this the easy way or the hard way?”
A boot dragged on the pavement: one long, slow sweep backwards. Then the other followed, and the drunken alpha was pressed fully against the wooden pallet Jason had dragged in front of the hole he had crawled through to hide behind the alley’s narrowly stacked crates.
This close, Jason could almost feel the heat of his body—a burning, searing heat. He couldn’t hold back his fearful whimper, and the air itself seemed to go still as the two men were reminded of his presence—of what they were fighting over and why.
Stupid, he cursed himself again. Jason’s hand wrapped around a sharp wooden plank he had broken off a crate when he first crawled into his hiding spot. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The drunk alpha snarled and, before another whimper could embarrass Jason further, the man was being yanked forward.
All Jason could see of it was the sudden jerking of the man’s legs as he was pulled forward by the other alpha, followed by his body crumpling sideways. Instead of the hard metallic sound of a bat, this one was accompanied by the eerie noise of bone-on-bone.
…Did he seriously just headbutt that guy? Jason wondered.
“Guess you wanted to do it the hard way,” came a low murmur.
Then came the dragging sound of a body being pulled across concrete. Jason could see, through the slats of the wooden pallet, the vigilante-alpha ducking down and looping his arms under the other man’s. He watched as the vigilante pulled the drunk back towards the entrance of the alley where the other remained unconscious, then tied them both together at the wrists and ankles with zip-ties. Whatever the vigilante was wearing, it clung. The muscles in the man’s arms stood in stark relief as he worked.
Jason shivered.
For a second, he lost himself in observation, fixed on the way the man’s steady hands worked over the alphas he had bested, and the way the moonlight seemed to creep around his body, leaving him more suggestion than form. The parts that Jason could see… His fever pitched higher. It was only the sound of footsteps—careful, purposeful, the only time he had actually heard this alpha move—that brought him back down to reality.
He pressed back firmly against the brick wall behind him, as far from the small entrance to his hiding spot as he could get.
“Hey,” the alpha said softly. The man crouched down away from the crates—to make himself seem smaller, less threatening, to give Jason space.
Jason wouldn’t be so easily tricked though. He might made have the mistake of coming outside a little too close to his heat, but he wasn’t stupid: he had seen how easily this alpha had taken the other two down.
He flattened himself against the brick, biting down the odd mix between whimper and trill that wanted to burst from his throat, some cross between noises that would sing: I’m small-I’m breedable-don’t hurt me-don’t hurt me-take me home.
“It’s okay,” the alpha said. His voice was low and quiet, safe. His scent was—nonexistent. “I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t even touch you. I just want to make sure you’re okay and that you get home safe.”
Still, Jason didn’t move. He had met better liars before, and he wasn’t going to make it any easier for this asshole to take him.
The alpha seemed to realize that too. His eyes were hidden behind his mask, but Jason thought his eyes seemed tired anyway. The man dropped out of his crouch, tipping sideways to sit cross-legged against one of the alley’s walls.
“Or you can stay there, I guess.” The man sighed, rubbing his cheek with a gloved hand. “My night’s almost over anyway—might as well ride it out here with you. Hey! Did you see the last episode of Love Island? ”
And, for a second, the alpha seemed a little less tired. It almost made Jason want to come out, made Jason want to talk to him. Jason had no idea what Love Island was or why this vigilante was asking him if he had seen it, but he could pretend.
Jason’s fingers tensed around his makeshift weapon. He didn’t come out. He didn’t reply.
“...That’s alright,” the vigilante said. “I can talk enough for the both of us.”
And he did. They both sat in that alleyway, moon creeping lower, sun creeping higher until:
“That’s stupid,” Jason finally said. He had forgotten not to talk. “Why would anyone agree to that in the first place?”
To his credit, the vigilante didn’t show any reaction to Jason’s reply. “For love! Also for fame, probably, but really for love. Why do anything?”
Jason snorted. “That’s stupid too.” One of his feet kicked against the wooden pallet in front of him—his legs were cramped after so many hours spent tucked into a ball. “Love won’t save you. Fame won’t either.”
His words rested between them for a little. Jason stretched a little in their newfound silence, grimacing at the sticky feeling of sweat all over his body.
“Are you hungry?” the vigilante asked. Jason guessed he didn’t know what else to say, after that.
Jason shrugged, forgetting that the alpha couldn’t see him. After another long silence, he finally spoke. “Usually.”
He saw the vigilante glance up at the sky, black just barely yielding to the red-and-blue of sunrise. The man seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking again.
“I know this little Thai place not too far from here—does great takeout. I could go pick something and bring it right back to you?”
For a moment, Jason hesitated too. Agreeing to the food was a risky move—it was something that a lot of alphas did early in courtship to show they could provide for their omega. Jason didn't want to risk this vigilante thinking he was owed anything, but he was so hungry and—“...Okay.”
Either the alpha would bring him food—(Real food! he thought giddily. A meal, even.)—and Jason would get what he had been out looking for in the first place or he would never come back and Jason could escape. Seemed like a win-win to him.
“Okay,” the alpha echoed. He seemed to hesitate again before standing up—as if he didn’t want to be far from Jason. “I’ll be right back. 15 minutes, max.”
Jason stared at the long line of the man’s body as he moved, one muscular arm reaching up and then the man’s whole body was following, going up. Jason blinked at the space left behind.
Meta, maybe? he wondered.
He wasn’t in Blüdhaven often, and never for long when he was—only for his heats. Something about the city just felt… safer, than Gotham. None of the other ‘megas on the streets had ever gotten it when they all talked about the best spots to hide out during a season, preferring the dirty-but-familiar surroundings of their home city to the dirty-but-strange surroundings of its sister.
That suited Jason just fine, though. He didn’t want to share.
Cautiously, he shifted aside the pallet blocking his entrance—just a little, he didn’t wanna open it too wide just in case someone other than the vigilante came sniffing around—and poked out his head, looking around the alley. It looked the same as it had when he first ran in, so many hours ago. Smelled the same too: piss and blood and alcohol.
He sniffed the air. Whatever the vigilante’s scent was, he couldn’t find a single note of it.
Military-grade scent blockers, he thought, impressed. Whoever Blüdhaven’s protector was, he must not be too green, or maybe he had taken some notes from the Bat across the harbor. Hiding their scent wasn’t something most criminals thought of, not at first.
He heard the sound of footsteps approaching—louder than anyone would naturally be—and carefully ducked back behind the pallets and crates again, waiting.
Jason watched as the alpha came back into view, turning around the corner into the alley. It was easier to see him now, in the early dawn, and the vigilante seemed to realize that too, glancing nervously up at the sky. Still, he sat down in front of Jason and began digging plastic tupperware containers out of the takeout bag.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he said softly. “Or if you had any allergies, or—well. I got a few options. You can have whatever you want.
The alpha smiled sheepishly at the crates. It was a good smile.
Jason pushed the pallet aside again, and crawled out. He didn’t look the alpha in the eyes as he went, wary of the man still, and carefully sat against the opposite wall from the man. He stared at the containers, hesitant and unsure which one to take—not wanting to make the wrong choice and risk upsetting the alpha.
Luckily, the man seemed to realize Jason’s dilemma.
“Here,” he said, pushing one of the containers forward and putting a plastic fork on top of it. “That one’s pad see-ew. I have another without chicken too, if you’re vegetarian or anything.”
“Okay.” Jason pulled it closer to himself. He pulled the top off and inhaled the rich scent of the noodles. His stomach growled, but Jason couldn’t afford to be embarrassed about it. “Thanks,” he added, almost as an afterthought as he began to eat.
As Jason’s fork scraped the bottom of his container, he looked up at the man across from him again: the vigilante was pushing his own food around, mostly watching Jason instead of eating.
The man seemed to realize he had been caught staring, but only smiled at Jason again instead of getting embarrassed like a normal person would have been.
“Hey, uh, I don’t mean to sound rude—” Jason narrowed his eyes at him. “—but are you staying somewhere… safe? I just mean—”
“You mean I look homeless,” Jason interrupted.
The vigilante flinched. “No judgment here! I just—if you needed it, I—”
“I’m not staying in your den,” Jason spit out, interrupting again. His body was tense, ready to run, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape this man.
The vigilante’s eyes seemed to widen behind his mask and his hands flew up in a placating gesture.
“No! Not what I meant. I mean—I’m a beta, I don’t even den—but I have safehouses. Unoccupied ones! You could stay there, completely unbothered, and there would be food, and—” The vigilante across from him deflated just a little, shoulders slumping, tired. “I just want you to be safe,” he finished quietly.
Beta? Jason wondered briefly. He couldn’t smell the man but: you sure don’t feel beta, and Jason’s senses were better than others’. He had never been wrong before, not even when someone tried to disguise their scent around him.
The offer was too good to be true, but too good to refuse either. Jason’s mouth was moving before he even knew what the answer would be.
“Okay.”
“Really?” The vigilante stared at him, the lenses of his mask wide. He seemed just as surprised by the answer as Jason.
Jason nodded at him, then grimaced as the motion made the sweaty strands of his hair sway against the overheated skin of his face and neck. “If you mean it and I’ll be left alone, then okay.”
“Yeah,” the alpha (?), no, beta (?), ...no, man breathed out. “Of course I mean it. No one will touch you.”
The words were said with a surprising conviction for a near-stranger, sounding almost like a growl from deep in his chest. Jason supposed that was typical of vigilantes, though: that drive to keep safe, to protect.
Jason laid his fork down in the takeout container, closing the lid back over it so he could eat what little remained later.
“Lead the way then.”
The vigilante stood so quickly that it made Jason flinch, pressing his back flat against the wall again. He whined, high and afraid, before he caught hold of himself and cut the sound off.
To Jason’s surprise, the vigilante replied with a deep and reassuring rumble, something that said: safe-don’t worry-safe-won’t hurt-keep-mine-protect.
Jason stared at him wonderingly—that definitely wasn’t a beta sound—but the vigilante didn’t seem to notice.
“Come on,” he said. “My bike’s just around the corner.”
Wordlessly, Jason followed him. He barely even noticed that the two other alphas had been removed at some point, dragged elsewhere by the vigilante for the police to find. Jason had no idea when it had been done.
The bike the vigilante mentioned turned out to be a massive white-gold-and-bright blue motorcycle. There was a slot where a sidecar might have once been hooked on, but it was empty now. The thing was an eyesore if Jason had ever seen one.
He raised one eyebrow at the vigilante, letting the barest hint of derision show on his face.
“I know,” the vigilante sighed, and a small part of Jason felt relieved that the man wasn’t totally blind, only—“It’s still the colors of my old uniform.”
Jason stared at the man blankly.
Clearly, the vigilante interpreted the silence and befuddled look on Jason’s face as a continuation of his earlier derision because he groaned and replied: “Okay, fine! Jesus, did Flash put you up to this? I’ll repaint it this weekend.”
He kept grumbling even as he stored the takeout bag in a compartment beneath the seat, and swung his leg over the bike to sit astride it.
Jason kept staring, even more dumbfounded now than before. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to him what sharing a bike with this man would mean. He shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, feeling every inch of his body’s heat and shaking and sweat, and the endless currents of I’m small-don’t hurt me-curl up beside me-keep me safe running through him.
As the alpha turned to look at him, head cocked as if confused that Jason hadn’t gotten on yet, he forced himself to move.
“How far is it?” he asked through gritted teeth, keeping as much distance between them as he could.
This close, and with the sun rapidly rising over them, Jason could see every inch of the man’s muscles, his skin so close beneath the thin layers of his uniform.
“It’s not far, I promise. You’ll have to hold tight though—we’ll be moving fast.”
Jason took a deep breath through his nose to soothe himself, inhaling only his own scent and that of the alley. The scent of the vigilante was a conspicuous hole in his senses, like the sun eclipsed.
He forced his limbs to move—it wasn’t hard, actually. His whole body seemed to sing in relief as he plastered himself against the vigilante and wrapped his arms around the other man’s solid chest. This close, he could feel just how much bigger the other man was than him. Jason laid his forehead flat on the man’s back, felt the steady jump-skip beating of his heart.
“You promise?” he asked.
The alpha's only reply was a deep, resounding rumble. It got lost under the purr of the motorcycle as the bike started up and they sped off, but Jason could feel it the whole drive, pulsing through the alpha's chest and into his own everywhere they connected. It almost made him want to purr back—almost.
Almost.