Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You smell different.”

Despite the low cacophony generated by the other patrons, Bernard should have heard just fine, but still, he gave a noncommittal hum, not quite registering the statement. He was too busy trying to puzzle out the baffling lab report that lay before him on the café’s lacquered wood table.

Across from him, his fellow omega and close friend Ariana Dzerchenko sat with a cup of tea in one hand and a pen clutched lightly in the fingers of the other. She took a slow, leisurely sip from her cup, levelling her friend with a patient glare as she waited for a beat. Then, two. Then,

Bernard’s head snapped suddenly, “Wait, really?!” he asked in a too-loud, excited whisper. A curious student glanced at their table, but neither of them paid any mind.

Ariana nodded solemnly, black strands jostling loose from her updo from the motion. “Definitely sweeter, like lemon tea with milk.”

Papers forgotten, Bernard lifted his uncovered wrists to his nose and took a great inhale. “Damn, I still can’t smell it.”

The omega woman gave him a wry smile, tapping her nose with the butt of her pen, “It’s really subtle, honestly. I probably only picked it up because we haven’t seen each other in a while.”

Bernard blew out a breath and leaned back in his seat. Ariana had a point, he thought. They didn’t work in the same faculty, so it was rare that they met on campus. Plus, he had been on heat leave for almost two weeks and hadn’t been on the premises at all.

“It’s about time I did the blood test, right?” he asked, his eyes locked onto the ceiling, absently watching the fake vines twirl in the breeze.

“I mean, I’m not a health professional, but it would show by now, yeah.”

Bernard hummed exaggeratedly as if in contemplation, before chuckling to himself, “Claire’s gonna blow a gasket.”

His supervising professor, Claire Benson, was a mousy beta woman who somehow always seemed two broken pencils away from a mental break. A phenomenal bioengineer, though.

She had been one of his favourite mentors during his graduate program and had been lucky enough to be snatched up by her once he got his degree, despite having almost no experience.

“She values you a lot,” Ariana replied diplomatically. Typical.

“Only because I’m the only one she can work to the bone!”

“You have a good work ethic,” his friend told her teacup, “And besides, it’s not like you’re going on leave now.”

“True enough,” he acquiesced. He leaned forward in his seat, hunching over almost conspiratorially, “I’m so fucking happy, Ari, and also scared shitless. Is that normal? I don’t know if that’s normal.”

Ariana’s eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes were focused on the essay she was grading. Her pen flew across the page, granting some poor soul damnation with every circled word and harsh underline.

“I’d say it’s normal, but as I’m neither a health professional nor have ever been pregnant, I-D-R-K.”

Bernard groaned, “Please stop saying that. Why do you talk like that?”

“My students find it funny.”

“More like torturous.”

“In any case,” she lifted her head, giving him her full attention. Reaching over the mess of strewn papers and stationery, she took his hands in hers, “Congratulations, Bernard, I’m happy for you. I know you’ll do amazing.”

Bernard moved to interlace their fingers, giving them a little squeeze. “Aw shucks, Ari. You’re gonna make me cry.”

His friend gave a twinkling chuckle, dark brown eyes crinkling in amusement, “Not unless you want to explain to your students why their papers are waterlogged.”

“Honestly,” he said, extracting one sheet from the mess as they released their hold on one another, “I’d be doing them a favour, because, what the hell is this? I know it’s a freshman class, but, like, wow—!“

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Bernard was crouched in front of the oven, watching intently as the chicken slowly browned in the baking dish, oil sizzling at the bottom of the cookware.

He wondered absently when he’d be able to teach their kid how to cook. Would they even like cooking? If two out of three parents were good in the kitchen, that’d count for something, right?

“Earth to Bernard? Do you copy?”

The omega startled, nearly tripping as he got to his feet, his apron fluttering around him. “Tim! Hey. Didn’t see you there.”

Tim rounded the kitchen island. He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows before taking off his wrist patches and tossing them onto the marble countertop.

Bernard tugged him forward, rubbing their wrist glands together before bringing his mate’s hands to his neck and repeating the gesture. His eyes fluttered closed in satisfaction as he purred; the scent of cherry wood and citrus settled in his nose.

“What’s on your mind? You didn’t notice me come in.” Tim’s eyes were searching, not unlike the calculating gaze he used as Cardinal. This one was mellower, though. Softened just for him.

“Ari said I smell different now,” he murmured into the alpha’s palm. He placed a kiss on both of Tim’s hands before releasing them. Tim easily shifted their placement to his hips and pulled him closer.

“She’s always had a keen nose,” his mate mused into the air between them. Bernard lifted his hands to Tim’s face, squishing the flesh lightly.

“I wanna do the blood test. I mean, it’s pretty certain by now, all we have to do is find out which of you two got lucky enough to catch.”

Obviously, he didn’t give a shit which one of his mates actually knocked him up; their child would be theirs no matter the specific genetic material. It would be helpful to know if he was going to have a partially alien baby, though.

“I can swing by the Cave tomorrow night. I’m on rotation today, so I won’t be able to get access without being seen.”

Bernard pulled away and sighed, leaning back on the marble countertop. “That’s kind of dramatic though, right?”

Tim levelled him with a flat look as he removed his neck patches and collected the discarded wrist patches for disposal, “Do you really want the Batclan hounding us this early on?”

The omega shivered, his mind flashing to the early days of their relationship. Tim’s family always meant well, but they could be a lot, to put it lightly. He blinked away the image of Dick Grayson’s face twisted in a sickly sweet smile as he questioned his intentions with his darling baby brother.

“Fair enough,” he muttered, making his way back to the stovetop. He picked up his stirring spoon from where it had been resting on a coaster before uncovering the pan and prodding at the pasta. With a fork, he picked up a shell and stuck it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. The sauce was near perfect, only needing a little extra spice, and the pasta was sufficiently al dente. Satisfied, he turned off the heat and placed the spoon over the pan.

Tim nodded, coming over to him and placing a kiss on his cheek, “We’ll take a sample after dinner, then. Conner’s gonna be home any minute now, so let me go freshen up.”

“‘Kay.” The omega turned his head slightly, planting his own chaste kiss on his mate’s mouth. “I’ll start plating.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The scent of soil after a spring drizzle enveloped him like a warm hug before Kon even entered the kitchen. He heard no footsteps as he spooned creamy pasta onto a plate, so his mate was definitely using his telekinesis. Despite this, he didn’t startle when he felt Kon bury his face into his shoulder. Nor did he flinch when he felt arms wrap around his waist, fingers slipping under his apron and shirt to rest lightly over his stomach, gently massaging the skin.

“Hello to you, too, baby,” Bernard teased, “Rough day?”

Kon tilted his head and placed a kiss over his mating mark, “Nah, not really. Just need to recharge.”

Bernard hummed, “I don’t know if you noticed, dear, but the sun went down a while ago.”

“Yeah, but,” the Kryptonian leaned closer to whisper in his ear, “You’re my sunshine, Sunshine.”

The omega blushed and rolled his eyes dramatically, “Sap.”

His mate chuckled into his ear, sending shivers down Bernard's spine, his scent spiking sweetly as Kon squeezed his waist. With one hand still wrapped around Bernard’s middle, Kon reached over with the other one, fully intending to snatch a piece of mushroom from the plate closest to him.

Bernard, absolutely not having it, smacked the hand away with his spoon.

“Ouch,” Kon whined, unnecessarily, “How could you, Bear. My own mate, in my own home.”

Bernard, non-pulsed, retorted, “Technically, the apartment belongs to Wayne Enterprises. And what happened to etiquette? Surely, Ma and Clark taught you better than that, farm boy.”

Kon licked the back of his hand where some of the sauce from the spoon had gotten on him. “Delicious as always,” he purred.

“You sneaky little—Kon!” Bernard shrieked as Conner attacked the side of his neck with kisses, his tongue running over his scent gland lavishly.

“Ooh~ This is tasty, too. Compliments to the chef!”

Bernard shook with laughter in his mate’s arms, the spoon slipping from his grasp, but instead of clattering to the counter or floor, it floated down as if carried by a breeze onto the marble.

“Conner, you ass! Let go of me!” He wheezed in between fits of giggles as Kon’s fingers deftly glided over his sides.

“You guys seem to be having fun.”

Kon’s fingers slowed but did not cease their movements, leaving trails of gooseflesh as they danced on his skin.

The beta called over his shoulder, “Hey there, handsome.”

“Tim, babe, please save me.” Bernard panted out.

His alpha, traitor that he was, pretended to consider it. “I don’t know…It looks like you're having a blast, actually, maybe I’ll join.

“No!” “Yes!”

Tim laughed and walked over to the fridge. “On second thought, I’m on patrol tonight, so I need to get some food in me.” He pulled out a can of Zesti cola, the decaffeinated version because neither Bernard nor Kon would have it in the house otherwise, “Kon, go take a shower, you stink.”

Bernard couldn’t see the beta’s face, but he imagined he looked affronted. “I do not!” he stated, tone laced with mock offence.

Tim took an exaggerated slurp from his beverage. “Food’s gonna get cold.”

Kon sighed and planted a wet kiss on the side of Bernard’s neck before breaking away. “Fine, fine, you win.”

As Kon wandered off down the hall to the bathroom, Bernard turned to face the dark-haired alpha as he started to set the table.

“I hope a pigeon craps on your bike.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Tim responded lightly as he filled glasses with chilled water, setting them down gently at each placemat.

Bernard just sighed, “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmured, setting down plates piled high with creamy mushroom pasta and baked chicken.

“Just cute?”

“The money’s a nice bonus, I suppose.”

“Ouch, Bear, you’re gonna hurt my feelings at this rate.”

Tim wandered over to him as he set down the last plate. Bernard twisted to face him and planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “You’ll live.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Is it bad that I forgot that was something to think about?” Kon asked in regards to the possible hybrid status of their baby, from his spot on the couch with his head in Bernard’s lap.

They had finished dinner a little less than an hour ago, and now all three of them were in the living room, attempting to decompress after a loaded workday. Keyword: attempting.

It was only Kon that was actually paying any sort of attention to the over-the-top B-horror movie Bernard had absently put on.

The omega and his other mate were doing some ‘light’ work before turning in. Or in Tim’s case, heading out. Bernard was reviewing the questions selected by Claire for an upcoming assessment to be given to their freshman mechanics class. He technically didn’t need to submit any feedback until next week, but he really wanted to get on top of things.

He wasn’t sure what Tim was doing. It was a pretty even toss-up between reviewing business proposals and skimming through autopsy reports.

Tim hummed from his seat on the plush carpet, hunched as he was over the coffee table, “You’re not the one carrying the baby that possibly has alien DNA, so I suppose that’s understandable.”

Kon turned his head so that he was facing Bernard’s covered stomach. The beta lifted the old Gotham U sweatshirt he was wearing, exposing the soft plane of his middle to the air.

“What are you doing?” Bernard questioned, chuckling; Kon’s hot breaths were making him twitch.

Kon placed a slow kiss on the flesh above his womb, right where their maybe-Kryptonian baby was coming into existence.

“Listen here, kid,” Kon told Bernard’s belly sternly, “Kryptonian or not, I don’t want you giving Bear a hard time, ya hear?”

Bernard laughed as Kon gave his belly a few more wet kisses. “The baby doesn’t even have ears yet, Kon,” the omega said, carding his fingers through Conner’s hair, his work abandoned.

“Either way, it’s going to be more stressful than a human pregnancy if they’re a hybrid. I’ve been trying to ask Lois about it, what it was like with Jon, but I think she’s suspicious of me, so I haven’t been able to get anything straight.”

That tracks, Bernard thought to himself. Lois Lane wasn’t the type of person who took interrogation sitting down, especially if she didn’t know what it was for. They’d likely be unable to ask her properly until they told everyone.

Tim sighed as he shut down his laptop. He stood up gracefully, taking a few seconds to stretch out his back before turning to face them. “We’ll know soon enough. Then, we can plan accordingly.”

He made his way towards them, “I’m heading out now, don’t wait up for me,” he said, planting a kiss on Bernard’s mouth. The omega let him go with only a cheeky lip bite. Conner, never to be outdone, got up on his elbow and used his other arm to forcibly drag Tim deeper into his kiss.

By the time the Alpha pulled away, both of them were flushed, and their scents had grown heavier.

“Be safe, love!” Bernard called out as Tim disappeared into the elevator, marginally less composed.

The omega looked down to see Kon staring up at him, cheeks still flushed, scent still heady and with an inquiring quirk of his eyebrows.

Bernard sighed dramatically, even as he noticed his citrus scent sweetening and felt a pulse go through his core.

“What am I going to do with you?” he whispered, running one hand through Kon’s curls and the other down his face, his thumb prodding at his mate’s bitten lips.

Kon took his thumb into his mouth, smirking around it as he sucked and nibbled, “I can think of a couple of things.”

Chapter Text

The engine of his motorcycle hummed as Tim drove down the cave’s tunnel entrance. The sparse illumination from the overhead lights glinted off his helmet’s visor as he sped soundlessly through the last security checkpoint, and then he and his vehicle were cruising out of the tunnel and into the garage.

The bike lane was, predictably, empty. Save Duke’s cycle, as his younger brother was likely sleeping over at the manor.

The important bit to Tim was the fact that the cave was silent, sans the typical whir of machinery and the faint sound of bat wings fluttering and water dripping down from stalactites.

He pulled off his helmet with a sigh and placed it behind him on the leather seat. From one of the hidden compartments of his bike, he retrieved the plastic sample tube containing the blood he’d extracted from his mate the night prior.

He got off his bike, shoes barely making a sound as he headed towards the Cave’s lab. The air was musty in that permanently damp way, but as he made his way deeper into the heart of the Cave, the scents of his family pack lingered on every surface. They had long since bullied Bruce into letting them keep scent patches off when they were in the cave for prolonged vigilante-related business. The place was practically their second pack den.

It was honestly pretty lucky that no one was in the Batcave on that particular night. Bruce was in a meeting with the Justice League founders at the Watchtower, Duke was conked out upstairs after a rough week of exams and patrol, Dick was off-world with Kory and Mar’i, Damian was covering for him as Nightwing with Jon, and everybody else was on patrol.

So, yes, it was something of a golden opportunity that he planned to make very good use of.

He hummed quietly to himself as he prepped the blood sample for analysis. It was an obscure pop song that Bart had managed to get stuck in his head, so, by virtue of existing in his general vicinity, Tim, Kon, and even Cassie had succumbed to the brainworm as well.

When he was finished with the necessary tests, he primed the lab computer to compile the results.

As he waited, he began to clear the workspace, wiping down equipment and disposing of used tools. The monotony of his task gave his mind the space to wander, and, predictably, he thought of his mates.

Kon was most likely dead asleep, considering the time. Bernard was probably up working, though. The omega’s sleep schedule wasn’t as shitty as Tim’s, but he had a habit of getting sucked into a task and losing track of time.

We’ll all be getting sleepless nights pretty soon, he found himself thinking.

The computer beeped, drawing Tim’s attention back to the screen.

Human Chorionic Gonadotropin (HCG) level – 542mL

Kryptonian Genetic Marker (KGM) DETECTED.

The rest of the report contained the less pertinent details of blood oxygen level, red and white blood cell count, and blood viscosity, among other things.

Tim stared at the results in contemplative silence. He had been certain of what the results would be, so it was more of a confirmation than a revelation to see it displayed. Thankfully, he had already begun to prepare accordingly. His search for a suitable prenatal care provider was coming to a close, as he had already selected his top candidates; all that was left was to narrow it down.

With the population of metahumans steadily increasing, the healthcare system has seen a rise in professionals dedicated to providing care for the more unique members of modern society. For now, they were mostly doctors with metahuman abilities or retired heroes with medical experience, but gradually, the infrastructure was being built to train professionals in the field formally. He’d been lucky enough to be able to talk to the Justice League’s medical personnel and obtain suitable recommendations.

Hybrid pregnancies were always a risk, especially between human and alien races; he knew from Dick the kind of weirdness and uncertainty that could arise from it, and Kon had heard plenty of concerns from Clark. Nevertheless, it was his job to make sure that absolutely nothing went wrong for him and his family, and he intended to do everything in his power to make it so.

“Hello, little brother.”

Tim did not startle; he was trained better than that. But he did tense. Imperceptibly, to the average person, but still.

The thing was, his older sister was definitely not the average person. Cass walked up behind him on feather-light feet and wrapped her arms around him, her tart cranberry scent blanketing him in warm recognition and affection. Tim’s own cherrywood diffused out to greet it, mixing in an olfactory cocktail of familial love.

“Hey, Cassie. I thought you were out today.”

“Shoulder wound,” she muttered into his shoulder, “Jason called Alfred.”

Now that she had mentioned it, she noticed her right arm wasn’t wrapped around him as firmly as the left, likely to not aggravate her injury.

“Well, that’s probably for the best, then.” He didn’t ask why she hadn’t told anybody; their family was scarily good at concealing injuries, and old habits tended to die hard.

“What is that?” Cass was squishing her face into his cheek, her eyes looking over his shoulder at the computer screen.

He blew out a little breath. So much for keeping it under wraps; he definitely couldn’t hide it from Cass now. At least she’d keep it to herself if he asked.

“That,” he said casually, fingers dancing over the keyboard as he set up the file for printing, “is Bernard’s HCG level as of last night. He’s about four weeks along if my estimate is accurate.” It was.

He felt Cass smile even if he couldn’t see it, and her scent sweetened with joy. “You are having a baby,” she said excitedly.

He replied softly, his own scent deepening with his sister’s infectious happiness, “Yes, we are.”

Cass released him, darting back lightly and twirling around with soft, weightless steps. Tim turned around, his face bright as he watched her dance in gladness. She came to a stop in front of him and took her hands in his, her dark eyes crinkled and shiny as a smile split her face.

“Congratulations, Tim!”

Tim smiled, wholesome and sweet, back at her, “Thank you, Cass.

She pulled him into a proper hug and, mindful of her shoulder, Tim returned it gladly. “You are very happy,” she whispered into his chest, “but scared. It will be alright.”

He huffed out a laugh, “Yeah, I know. It’s gonna be a hybrid pregnancy. So many unknowns, y’know.” So many ways things can go wrong. “But, I’m mostly happy, though. So happy.”

The printer beeped softly, and Tim broke away from the embrace to retrieve the papers. Cass stood beside him, her presence radiating warmth and assurance, no doubt already anticipating all the catastrophizing his mind was doing.

“Listen, Cass,” he said, turning to face her, the computer working on destroying all the data he’d just retrieved, “We’re not ready to tell the others just yet, so if you could keep it quiet for now that’d be great.”

He saw his sister’s brow furrow slightly as he processed his words, “Not too long, the others will figure it out soon enough.”

Tim sighed, part fondly, part weary, “Yeah, I know. We just need to process before Bruce gets into grandpa mode,” he joked.

Cass smiled sweetly, probably thinking of how Bruce reacted to Dick breaking the news of baby Mar’i to the family. He still had the clip of his dad’s face going slack, his stoic mask crumbling in unexpected emotion.

With one last hug and a quick scenting, Tim bid his sister goodbye and headed in the direction of the garage. He had a pep in his step, as silly as it sounded. For once, with genuine certainty, he felt like his future was bright.

Chapter Text

Funnily enough, it wasn’t the sound of retching that woke him up.

In his dream, he had been flying. The cool breeze rushed through his hair and past his ears as he zipped through the open skies. It was a nice dream; simple and ultimately meaningless. The kind of dream he’d forget about in the morning.

So, yeah, he’d been flying over lakes and grassy fields and farmlands when—bam!—he got his in the face by something. A duck, maybe?

The point is, it startled him awake. His eyes snapped open, and for a few seconds, his heart raced. He took a steadying breath and grounded himself in his surroundings.

He was in bed, half covered by the comforter. Tim was next to him, his breaths even and his heart rate steady. Conner could feel the alpha clutching his shirt in a loose grip. Tim must have smacked him in his sleep, unintentionally waking him up.

That’s one mate accounted for, he thought, prying Tim’s fingers off his shirt and sitting up, but where’s Bernard?

He could hear his heartbeat—alongside a smaller, fainter one that made him want to leap every time he noticed it—still in the apartment; it was coming from a little way down the hall, likely the bathroom. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and he was tempted to go back to sleep, but something felt odd. Bernard's heart was beating a lot faster than normal. Why would his heart be racing at this h—?

Then he heard the heaving.

He shook away the drowsiness as he climbed out of bed, manipulating the covers with TTK to avoid getting tangled in the comforter.

He made his way down the hall to the bathroom with the barest sense of urgency. The air held the normal tangle of their scents: homey and comfortable and relaxed. There was no off-putting spike of sweet citrus to indicate any distress from his omega, but still, worry tugged at his heart.

He had a sneaking suspicion about what was going on, though.

The bathroom door was cracked open, allowing a line of brightness to leak into the otherwise dark hallway. Kon pushed it open carefully and stepped inside, closing it completely behind him.

It seemed like his hunch had been right. Bernard was on his knees in front of the toilet bowl, his shaking fingers gripping the porcelain in a white-knuckle grip as he threw up last night’s dinner.

Kon was at his side in an instant. He leaned over his mate, a large hand rubbing at his back while the other pulled back sweat-soaked strands from his face.

Bernard was shivering when he finally relaxed. If Kon hadn’t been behind him, the other man would have likely fallen back and sprawled on the floor as he tried to catch his breath.

“Y’know,” Kon started to say as Bernard wiped at the redness of his eyes, “They say the first trimester is the worst in terms of symptoms.”

“Oh joy, only three more months of this,” Bernard said dramatically, throwing up a hand in faux excitement.

“Sorry, hon.”

Bernard sighed, twisting in Conner’s hold to press the side of his face into the beta’s neck. He breathed in deeply, taking in lungfuls of his mate’s calming pheromones.

“I’d say it’s not your fault,” the omega muttered tiredly, “But it kind of is.”

“I’m pretty sure it was a group effort.”

Bernard snorted, “Yeah, well, I’ve gotten stuck with the worst share of the work.”

Kon rubbed up and down his mate’s back in a soothing gesture. One arm reached up to massage the skin of his neck, scruffing him gently. Bernard exhaled contentedly, going completely boneless in his arms.

“That just means you’ll get all the credit,” Conner teased, “Do you want to go back to bed?”

The omega replied, his voice muffled by the fabric of Kon’s shirt, “Nah. I’ll have to start getting ready for work soon, and I don’t think the nausea will let me fall back asleep anyway.”

“Fair enough.”

They sat like that on the floor for a handful of minutes as Bernard rode out wave after wave of nausea. Thankfully, he didn’t vomit again, but there were some close calls.

When he was ready, Kon helped his mate get to his feet and clean up. They exited the bathroom with the intention of heading to the kitchen to get started on breakfast, as it was already 6 am.

“Hold on,” Kon said. He turned to face Bernard, who was looking at him curiously, with a face that was still pale and weary eyes. The lights in the living room were off, and the curtains were drawn, but he could see the first rays of the sun creeping under the fabric as soft, dull light.

“I have an idea.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“How’re you feeling?”

They were in the loft, sitting shoulder to shoulder in front of the open windows on the plush grey carpet. They each held a mug in their hands; Bernard had ginger tea, and Kon had coffee. The Kryptonian set down his cup on a tray next to him and reached over to wrap an arm around his omega’s waist. Bernard was looking out of the window, his eyes were unfocused, but his breathing was soft, and his scent mellow and sweet. Steam curled up from the cup cradled near his chest.

“How did you know this would work?” he questioned quietly.

Kon hummed, his fingers tracing abstract patterns into Bernard’s skin through his shirt. “Just a hunch.”

“Is this how you feel all the time? It’s amazing.” Bernard spoke with uncharacteristic serenity. Kon couldn’t blame him; his first experience was more or less the same.

Not many people understood what the yellow sun meant to Kryptonians on Earth. It was more than just a source of their power, a gateway to their godhood; it gave them life.

The first time he felt the light of the sun, it was as if he had been asleep for a long time and was only just waking up. Something inside of his being shifted, changed, bloomed. It was such a stark difference from the sunlamps CADMUS had trained him with; he was unable to wrap his head around it for the longest time, the feelings it drew out of him.

It had been Kara, strangely enough, who helped him understand. She hadn’t been raised under the yellow sun like Clark, hadn’t been born with its power already in his blood like Jon. She came to Earth nearly an adult and, like him, had been thrust harshly into such a starkly different light from the one she had been born under.

It had been hard, she’d told him, waking up not just with incredible powers but with the sun on your skin, feeling so foreign and new, but also so perfect and right.

It’s why they woke up with the sun; they had to greet it, thank it for its gifts and promise to use them well. It gave them their strength, their power and their hope.

Kon looked over at Bernard, whose skin was lit up with radiant sunlight. He was carrying a life, one with a heart that beat with the blood of Krypton and with the blessings of the yellow Sun. It was only fair for him to learn to love it as they did.

“It’s awesome, yeah.” He leaned down to leave a kiss on the crown of his head. “It makes me really happy that you can feel it.”

The omega cracked an eye open and smiled, cheeky and relaxed. “I take back what I said before, carrying an alien baby has its perks after all.”

Kon laughed at that, and the sun continued its ascent, and even in Gotham, he could still feel its rays, tender and loving as if it shared in their joy.

Chapter Text

Bernard reached up with tentative fingers and cupped the underside of his chest. He bit his lip, wincing at the soreness. Even now, eight weeks pregnant, he hesitated to call them breasts. They were still too small in his opinion; only soft, barely there mounds of flesh.

Tim had noticed in the shower that morning, because of course he did. Bernard got the impression his alpha had wanted to touch them; he had been staring at how his chest bounced slightly as he moved around, but refrained as he’d been complaining about tenderness.

Slowly, his hands moved to the front of his chest, his fingers brushing against the nipples. He added pressure, squeezing the flesh flat under his palms. He held back a moan of discomfort. Wow, that really stings.

Despite the pain, he was still captivated by the sight of them in the mirror. He was in the walk-in closet, standing in front of the full-length mirror, trying to change after work. He was glad he was home alone, so he had time to conduct his own personal examination. If Kon or Tim were around, they would have definitely appeared by now to check on him on account of all the sounds he was making, the worrywarts that they were.

The idea that his body would change—was already changing—had been in his mental periphery from the start. Now that he saw it happening in real time, he suddenly wasn't sure how to feel. Maybe it was because his chest wasn’t much bigger than it usually got during his heats, and the fact that he hadn’t started showing obviously yet, but his brain hadn’t yet caught up to the fact that he was growing an entire person inside of him.

With a sigh, he let go of his chest; it bounced slightly as it settled. His hands dropped to his middle, and he found himself squishing the flesh as he stared at his reflection, trying to picture what he would look like when his belly grew larger and rounder.

“Listen, kid, it’s my first time, so try to go easy on your…,” he trailed off hesitantly. On their what? Mom? Dad? Progenitor?

According to the traditional values seriously held by only the elite, ancient, prejudiced or a dastardly combination of all three, the sexes that could bear children easily—omegas and female betas—were supposed to align with stereotypical ‘feminine’ qualities: being submissive, docile, caregivers who lived only to make sure the population didn’t die out.

In his youth, his parents had tried their damnedest to make sure he grew up to be the perfect little omega wife and, well, mother. Unfortunately for them, he did not mesh with that idea whatsoever. They might have considered him a rebel in his teenage years because he dressed more masculine, dated omegas, was snarky and witty and sarcastic, but, at that point, he wasn't speaking to them often enough to care.

Now…well, now, he was a lot more comfortable with his status as an omega. He had a good job as an assistant professor at Gotham University, a decidedly un-omegalike profession. He had two—two!—incredible mates who didn’t care about what biology dictated about his life and would love him no matter his supposed value as an omega.

He was also going to have a baby.

Which he did want, like, really badly. Some might say that was just his biology talking, but they would also be the kind of people he’d grown up eviscerating on online forums, so that opinion was worthless.

He was going to have a baby, yeah, but did that make him a mother? A parent? Absolutely. But, a mom?

He turned away from the mirror and started to get dressed, pulling on a pair of shorts from Kon’s clothes, a hoodie from Tim’s and his favourite pair of neon orange, off-brand Batman socks (they always made Tim’s eye twitch whenever he saw them).

He shuffled out of the closet and retrieved his laptop from his workbag before climbing into bed.

The first thing he did was check the news and social media; with two partners who were superheroes, it was hard to suppress the nagging feeling of worry over all the danger they got themselves into trying to save people, even now. Luckily for his nerves this time, all seemed to be going well.

Supernova was in Switzerland, aiding relief efforts after an avalanche. Bernard grinned to himself as he scrolled through pictures of his mate posing with smiling children. In one photo, he held a little girl on his shoulders, her face was bright with child-like glee and Kon’s mouth was twisted in his signature, charming hero smile. Bernard couldn’t help but picture a different kid; one with his chocolate eyes and Conner’s inky curls.

The thought rose in him unbidden, but completely certain, he’s gonna be a great dad.

Cardinal was investigating a break-in at the S.T.A.R. Labs, Phoenix, Arizona, branch. Apparently, the recent avalanches in the Alps seemed to be by design rather than natural causes. Obviously, such an operation wasn’t supposed to garner any sort of attention, so he couldn’t exactly hop online for that one.

Instead, his alpha, genius that he was, programmed the vital monitors in his suit to send encrypted updates to all of his mates’ devices periodically, giving a brief overview of his physical status; it was like getting a thumbs-up emoji from your partner every hour or so, reassuring you that they weren’t dead.

He’d checked the update before he’d taken a shower some thirty minutes prior, but he rechecked it, just to be sure; everything seemed normal, although Tim’s heart rate was a little elevated, but not concerningly so.

With his mind put at ease, he switched tabs and started on some work. It wasn't much; he just graded a few essays and replied to some emails from students. In the end, it took him only a few hours.

After he was done, he migrated to the kitchen to make a quick dinner. Neither of his mates was going to be home that night, but he left extra food for them just in case.

The pain in his chest made itself known again quite boldly when he tried to lie down on his front on the living room carpet.

“Damn,” he hissed, turning over onto his back, “Do I need bras now?” he asked the silent room. It didn’t reply, but he got his answer anyway. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and began his search.

There were plenty of androgynous ones to select from, but for some reason, he kept gravitating to the more…feminine designs. They didn’t look too shabby, he thought, and he tried to imagine himself in them, how they would make him feel. He found that he wouldn’t hate wearing them; he might even enjoy it.

He shut off his phone and stared at the ceiling. The lights were dimmed to their lowest setting, and the curtains were still open, allowing the glow of the city to seep into his home. It was utterly silent in the house, besides the hum of appliances and his own steady breathing.

Would it really be so bad if his kid called him mom?

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

When he woke up the next morning, Tim and Kon were pressed up against him, the points where their skin met like spots of reassuring heat. Tim’s hand was resting lightly over his middle, and Kon had interlaced their fingers in a loose hold. He allowed himself a few hazy seconds to enjoy the smell of wet earth and cherrywood campfire.

It was a Saturday, so they enjoyed breakfast together. Since nobody felt like cooking, they had granola and fruit salad. They ate in the loft so Kon and Bernard could bask in the morning sun, a ritual they had both grown to treasure. Tim, the nocturnal creature that he was, squinted blearily at the light.

“Y’know,” Bernard started casually, using his fork to toy with a chunk of strawberry; he pretended to be absorbed in the fruitless task of picking at the seeds to avoid meeting his mates’ eyes.

“I don’t think I’d mind being called mom, or, like, some derivative of that. Not mother, though, that’s too formal.”

Tim didn’t miss a beat, his tone soft and casual, “That’s cool, whatever you’re comfortable with, love.”

He looked up, finally to see Kon grinning excitedly at him. His back was to the window so that the incoming rays seemed to bleed off of him like he was the star himself.

“Does this mean I can call you Mama Bear?”

Bernard couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. His bowl nearly slipped from his fingers as his shoulders shook. He could hear Tim snickering as well, barely managing to muffle it with his fist.

“It’s a serious question!”

“It’s really not,” Tim replied, still chuckling.

“I think I’ll have to get back to you on that one, babe.”

Kon heaved a dramatic sigh and leaned back onto his elbows, shaking his head at the ceiling. “Even if you say no, that’s been your name in my phone for weeks, so…”

“Seriously?” Tim deadpanned. Kon nodded sagely, “It just hit me when I was in the shower, and I couldn’t just not use that stroke of genius.”

Bernard popped the fruit piece still in his bowl into his mouth and chewed slowly, savouring the sweetness that bled from its flesh. “In that case, I’ll allow it, but only when it’d be really, really funny.”

Kon turned back to him, cheeky grin back in full, blinding force, “You’ve got yourself a deal, Sunshine.”

Chapter Text

He could hear the crying from the elevator. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be able to hear anything—Tim’s sound-dampening tech was there so he could relax when he was home—but over the past couple of weeks, he’d been making it a habit to focus his super-hearing when he was leaving or entering the apartment.

He didn’t tell Bernard that, though; he already knew his omega would insist that he didn’t need the monitoring, but Conner was honest enough with himself to accept that it was more for him than for his pregnant mate.

Even though he couldn’t pick up on the emotions Bernard could convey through his scent, it was intense enough that he recognised the distress the moment he set foot in the apartment.

The smell of burnt oranges forced itself down his nostrils as he kicked off his shoes in the foyer, exchanging them for house slippers. He would have dropped the grocery bags there, too, if there weren’t any items that needed refrigerating.

So, as carefully as he could while engaging his super-speed, he put away the groceries in the kitchen. If he accidentally cracked an egg or two, that was nobody’s business but his own.

Seconds after he was done, he pushed open the door to the master bedroom and slipped inside.

“Bear?” he called softly.

Bernard sat on the edge of the bed; he was hunched over, folding in on himself as if to appear smaller. His shoulders shook as sobs racked his frame. Bernard wasn’t usually a crier; he vented his displeasure and frustration with his movements and his words, but rarely ever shed a tear.

The past few weeks had been something of a wake-up call for Tim and Kon. They’d known going in that their omega would change—physically, emotionally and mentally. They’d braced themselves for it, but seeing those changes was an entirely different thing. It had taken Bernard yelling at Tim for staying up far too late (even by his standards) and then bursting into frustrated tears for it to truly sink in.

Kon sat down next to Bernard and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The omega immediately turned and buried his face in his mate’s chest, soaking his shirt with saltwater and snot. Kon pumped out his scent in heavy wafts and prayed to Rao that no distress bleed into it.

After a few heart-wrenching errors, Kon and his alpha realised that the best thing they could do for Bernard while he was crying was just to let him get it out. Their reassurances did nothing but set him off further, and trying to rationalise with him was a frustrating endeavour for everybody involved. Their omega wasn’t fond of feeling sudden uncontrollable bouts of intense emotion, so allowing him to get it over with as quickly as possible by sobbing his heart out was their best bet.

So Kon held his mate as he wailed, trying his best to be the pillar of silent comfort the omega needed him to be. He lifted Bernard off the bed, gently directing him to move to Kon’s lap. The omega allowed himself to be moved; already his tears had ceased, and he pressed up against his mate, trying to get his breathing under control.

Kon’s arms were wrapped around him, his hands rubbing at the tension in his muscles. Bernard’s bare skin was warm; he wasn’t wearing a shirt, only a bra and a pair of sweatpants. He looked terribly pretty, even with his face splotchy and his eyes lined in red.

When his breathing slowed and his heart rate decreased, the omega remained silent and still for a few minutes. It was only when Kon began to suspect that he’d fallen asleep—it wouldn’t be the first time—that Bernard spoke, in a scratchy and worn voice.

“My mom called.”

Kon’s response was to hold him even closer, arms wrapping tighter around him. He didn’t know much about his mate’s parents, Beatrice and Gregory Dowd, other than they were very traditional and somewhat strict. Bernard had spoken of their fraught relationship in his youth, but claimed they were doing much better by comparison. The guarded expression and clenched jaw that he wore whenever they came up in conversation told his otherwise, but he understood it wasn’t something the man could be hounded over.

Bernard’s next breath came out shuddering, “She said they want to see me. That I haven’t been around in a while, and she misses me.”

His voice cracked, and he let out a frustrated little warble as he tried to keep a fresh wave of tears at bay.

“They haven’t reached out in months, and it’s now, when I’m like this, that they want to see me?”

“Like what?” Kon asked softly; he didn’t want to sound prying, but if this was a self-deprecation thing, he couldn’t stand for that.

Bernard huffed like the answer was obvious. Ah, so it was a self-deprecation thing. “Like this, Conner. I’m a mess. I had to call in sick today ‘cause of how much of a mess I am.”

“You’re pregnant.”

The omega hummed dismissively, his fingers leaving Kon’s shirt to fiddle with the drawstrings of his sweatpants, which, now that he thought about it, were probably Tim’s.

“No,” Kon said, gently grasping his mate's jaw and turning his head so that they were making eye contact, “You’re not ‘a mess’, Sunshine. You’re pregnant, carrying a child, our child. Is it messy? Yeah, it’s perfectly understandable that you feel that way, but you’re not a mess or weak or whatever else you’re thinking of because you’re carrying our baby. Okay?”

Bernard was biting his lip to keep from trembling, “Okay.”

Kon placed a kiss on his brow before dragging him into a tight hug. He didn’t ask the omega to continue speaking, content to let him get there at his own pace. It took a few minutes, but he did, and, to Kon’s joy, his voice was steadier than before.

“I don’t want to face her, to face them, like this. I feel like anything they’ll say will set me off. I don’t even want to tell them about the baby. They’re my parents, and I’m an adult, and I don’t feel comfortable telling them I’m pregnant, like, what?”

“You don’t have to,” Kon murmured, “Lex is technically my parent, but he’ll never hear this from me.”

Bernard gave a weak chuckle, “Your evil dad has been in prison for what? Five years now? You don’t have to interact with him at all if you don’t want to. My parents may have made my adolescence a living hell, but they weren’t abusive.” He pursed his lips, “Conservative, overbearing and neglectful? Sure. But not much worse than most kids I knew got it. I’ll have to tell them at some point.”

“Not right now, though.”

“No, not right now.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Sunshine. We’re here for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” then softer, “I love you, both of you, so much.”

Kon kissed the side of his face, pressing his lips slowly into the reddened flesh, tasting the salt of the omega’s dried tears.

“We love you, too.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

They held each other like that for a while; their own little bubble of serenity. The only sounds in Kon’s ears—the only ones that were important in those moments—were the sounds of Bernard’s steady breathing and their baby’s heartbeat—fast but strong.

Eventually, Kon elected for them to move to the living room, citing that his omega needed some sun. Bernard didn’t protest as Kon carried him out of the room, cradled against his chest.

The Kryptonian deposited his mate onto the couch and went about making him a snack. The infamous pregnancy cravings had hit him like a storm, and it seemed like his taste had been flipped on its head. He hated the smell of coffee (a personal blow to Tim), disliked the taste and texture of mangoes, and now adored spicy food, but not human spicy, Kryptonian spicy. On multiple nights, Kon had woken up to find the omega rummaging through his box of novelty hot sauces like a raccoon through a dumpster.

The snack of the week was avocado chips and chilli oil.

As he mashed the avocados, he could hear his omega constructing a little nest on the couch. Bernard grabbed throw cushions by the armful, shook them out, and carefully draped blankets over sections of the sofa. At one point, he left the living room entirely to go to the bedroom, returning with a pile of clothes and pillows that were meticulously incorporated into the structure.

By the time he’d finished, Kon had put the avocado batter in the oven to bake. He pulled out the chilli oil from the cabinet and spooned a generous helping into a bowl. He finely chopped up some fresh habanero peppers and mixed them with the oil.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, the chips were done. Bernard had put on an old, campy documentary on The Batman, one of the first of its kind. Kon knew it was something of a comfort film to him, as it was one of the initial pieces of media that had sparked his fascination with The Bat and his subsequent obsession with Gotham conspiracy theories.

“Your meal is served, my love,” Kon announced with a flourish, presenting his mate with the tray containing his food.

Bernard looked up at him and smiled. He seemed back to himself—bright eyes, easy grin, and relaxed posture. There was still an air of tiredness around him, but the afternoon sun did seem to have done him some good. He took the tray and balanced it on his lap, silently beckoning Kon to join him in his nest.

“Aww, Kon, you spoil me,” he teased, wasting no time in selecting a chip and crunching on it. His eyes fluttered closed in satisfied bliss as he moaned around the mouthful in a way that wouldn’t be out of place in their bedroom. Leave it to Bernard to make every action sexy as hell.

“It’s my pleasure, Sunshine.” Kon wrapped one arm around Bernard’s waist, pulling him closer ever so slightly. He placed a lingering kiss on his neck, right next to his scent gland. His scent was back to normal, too. Kon took a deep lungful of sweet, juicy oranges and felt the shiver that ran through his mate’s body from the intimate action.

It didn’t take long for Bernard to polish off his food, with only a little assistance from Conner.

“I think I’ll tell them before we tell your guys’ families. To get it out of the way.”

Kon tore his gaze from the TV, where an enthusiastic presenter debated over which blurry photo of The Bat had the correct amount of cape showing to be legitimate.

He turned to meet his mate’s eyes, but Bernard was still focused on the screen, “That’s fair. Do you want us to go with you?”

Bernard sighed, his shoulders slumping, “My dad’s still kinda weird about all of us being together. Somehow, the fact that I’m mated to both of you and not just Tim still rubs him the wrong way.”

If there’s one thing being grown in a lab saved Conner from, it was social norms when it came to secondary sexes. He wasn’t really bothered or swayed by traditional views because he never felt like they applied to him on account of being a half-alien and also, y’know, ‘born’ already a teenager. Still, he knew enough to know that their relationship wasn’t common.

It was an old practice, but Alphas could have more than one mate within a pack. However, it was pretty unheard of for all of them to be mated to each other. Naturally, Bernard’s parents had said as much when their son told them of his relationship status; mated to his Alpha as well as his Alpha’s ‘other mate’, who also had no status to speak of other than being the adopted son of renowned journalists Lois Lane and Clark Kent.

Kon snorted, “You know I don’t give a shit about that stuff, babe.” The beta began to move his hand up and down his mate’s side in an effort to coax him into further relaxation, “But, if you think it’s for the best, I’ll hang back.”

“Yeah, I think I should do it myself. Maybe we can finally hash things out, properly this time.”

Bernard’s voice was laced with a familiar resolve and determination that made Kon’s heart swell.

“We're here for you, no matter what happens. Forever and always.”

Bernard finally turned to face him; his eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but his face was set with certainty. He leaned forward and kissed Kon with a slow kind of fervour that oozed with love and gratitude.

Kon pulled Bernard down and onto the couch with him, arms circling his mate’s middle as he deepened the kiss. There was no urgency, no heat, only the warmth of unspoken promises.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure I shouldn’t come? I can just ask someone to cover for me.”

“No, Conner, we’ll be fine. It’s a standard prenatal, nothing to fuss over.”

The Kryptonian’s sigh sounded crackly as the phone’s speaker projected it. “Yeah, but it’s the first one. I hate having to miss it.”

Tim hummed sympathetically, “I know, babe, I know.”

“You guys are gonna tell me everything when I—I’ll be right there! Don’t do anything—!”  There was the sound of something, or someone, crashing into a hard surface.

“Conner? Everything alright?”

His mate muttered under his breath, “For Rao’s sake,” then said louder into the receiver, “Yup, just peachy. I’ve got to go, just fill me in later, okay? Tell Bernard I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”

Tim chuckled, checking over a small stack of papers before slipping them back into a folder, “You told him this morning already, remember? It’s fine, Kon.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve seriously got to go before one of these kids—Just leave it, it’s fine!”  Tim heard another person speaking but couldn’t make out the words; Conner just sighed in response, “I’ll see you at home, hon. Love you.”

Tim slid out of his office chair and grabbed the folder in one hand before picking up his phone in the other, “Yeah, I love you too, Kon,” he whispered directly into the device. He couldn’t see, obviously, but he was willing to bet a significant sum of money that Conner was blushing as he closed the call.

He checked the time on his watch and cursed softly. Hastily, he left his office, speed-walking down the hallway to the bedroom.

“Hey, we need to leave right now if we want to beat the traffic,” he called out through the closed door. He pursed his lips in concern when he didn’t get any response. “Bear?” he called out again, cracking the door open.

“Can, can you give me, like, five minutes?” Bernard’s voice finally came through, but it was tense and strained like he was struggling against something.

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah—damnit—I’m fine! Just—ugh!”

Tim cracked the door wider and slipped inside the room, “I’m coming in, love.”

He tucked his phone into his back pocket and tossed the document folder onto the bed before peaking into the closet.

His mate was lying down on the floor with his back arched into the air. His fingers tugged harshly on the fly of his jeans as he tried desperately to slip the buttons into their holes. It was obvious from the light sheen of sweat on his forehead that he’d been at it for a while.

The sight would have been comical if it weren’t for the frustration and distress tainting his scent and the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

With a wet sound that sounded like a suppressed sob, Bernard lowered himself onto the floor. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. “Fuck,” he whimpered.

Tim felt his heart physically constrict as he approached his omega. He sat behind Bernard’s head and slipped his arms under him, pulling him up into a sitting position. Bernard’s hands fell away from his eyes as he allowed himself to be picked up; his gaze was focused resolutely ahead, far away and unseeing even without his vision being blurred by tears.

That sat like that, with Bernard’s back to Tim’s chest. Tim put his chin on Bernard’s shoulder and whispered into his ear, “It’s okay to cry.”

“Not over this. This is stupid.”

“You’re allowed to cry over stupid stuff, Bear. It’s normal.”

“Tim, I can’t fit in my jeans anymore, and I feel like sobbing, that’s not—,” the omega’s voice wavered, his scent curdling like orange-flavoured milk. Tim’s pumped out his scent purposefully, masking the sad smell with warm cherrywood smoke.

The smaller, wilder part of him took pride in the fact that his mate was gaining weight properly. Kon was very enthusiastic about making sure Bernard ate well and had every craving catered to.

Bernard took a deep, shaky breath, “This is stupid. I knew it wouldn’t fit, but I tried it anyway, and now, it’s making me feel like shit.”

“That’s normal too. It’s—“

Bernard side-eyed Tim through wet lashes, “I will elbow you if you say it’s ‘just hormones’.”

The omega’s tone was tight, but not upset, so Tim figured if he were going to get elbowed, it probably wouldn’t be too hard. “It’s just hormones, darling.”

True to his words, Bernard elbowed him in the stomach; it wasn't enough to hurt, but Tim leaned back dramatically and let out an oof anyway for comedic effect.

It seemed to work because the omega huffed in amusement, twisting back to look at him with a quirked lip, “I told you.”

Tim smiled back at him, leaning forward to wrap his arms around Bernard, his hands drifting to the slight swell of his stomach, “Yeah, you did. But, you’re smiling now, so it’s worth it.” With a slightly more solemn tone, he added, “We can reschedule if you’re not up for it.”

Bernard was silent as he mentally processed his options. Tim was glad to see that he was more relaxed again; he leaned back more into Tim’s chest, and his scent was still mellow but without the sour tinge from before. Tim silently slipped his hands under the omega’s shirt, rubbing his wrist glands into the skin and scenting him thoroughly.

It stung that he couldn’t do much more than that to soothe his omega. As someone with the natural inclination to solve problems and as an Alpha with the instinctive, bone-deep compulsion to provide and protect, seeing his mate in any form of distress that he couldn’t chase away left him feeling unsettled and powerless.

Bernard sighed heavily and relaxed his posture even further, nearly slipping out of Tim’s hold “We could reschedule, but we shouldn’t. I can do it. It’s no big deal.”

“If you're not feeling up to it, there’s no--”,

“I’m pregnant, not an infant. You don’t have to baby me.”

“It’s not babying.” Tim sighed.

Bernard had always been independent and incredibly self-sufficient, and usually disliked people trying to take care of him when he didn’t ask for it. It had been something of a point of contention when they’d first started courting, and Tim’s instincts always drove him to be protective, especially after the fiasco with the Cult of Dionysus. And when Bernard had found out his secret identity, it became all too easy to use his training and resources to watch out for him.

Now he was pregnant and fighting his heightened vulnerability and any effort on Tim and Kon’s part to accommodate him.

Tim kissed the side of his neck tenderly, “I just want to make sure you’re always okay. We can skip the appointment. The OB-GYN is on my personal payroll, remember?”

Bernard was quiet for another moment before replying again. This time his voice was softer and more open, “I’m okay, Tim, really. Let’s get going.”

The omega sat up and shifted forward, starting to get to his feet. Tim not so subtly insisted on helping him up.

“Such a gentleman,” Bernard chuckled.

“About the jeans,” Tim commented as Bernard rummaged through his clothes for something easier to slip on, “We can just get them adjusted. I can have a tailor take it and be done before the end of the week.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll wear them again eventually.”

“You sure?”

Bernard rolled his eyes as he turned back around, holding a pair of comfortable-looking baby blue sweatpants. “Yes, Tim, I’m sure. You have everything ready, right?”

(Tim resolved to contact the tailor anyway. He was going to see if he could get custom-made maternity clothes for his mate so he didn’t have to sacrifice his sense of style.)

The alpha ran through his mental checklist; they had Bernard’s medical history, his family’s medical records (obtained by less than legal means, but that wasn't important) and his daily vitamins all packed and ready to go.

“Yes, I do,” Tim answered confidently.

Bernard was shimmying out of his unbuttoned jeans hastily as he spoke, “Good, because if we weren’t late before, we sure as hell are now.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Sorry, we’re late.”

“It’s no problem at all, Mr Draper.”

Dr Miranda Yachi walked up to greet them as they entered the office. She was a middle-aged omega woman with a warm smile and soothing demeanour.

Tim saw Bernard visibly relax as the doctor took his hand in hers. He hadn’t said anything, but Tim could tell he had been nervous on the drive over.

Dr Yachi had been a practising OB-GYN for decades before her latent meta-gene activated after she accidentally made contact with biochemical waste left over from a supervillian’s rampage. Later, while providing support to Justice League members during a large-scale battle in New York, she was officially recruited as a part-time member of the JLA’s medical staff; however, she wanted to focus on her practice.

Tim had chosen her for her experience as well as her power. She could teleport to any location within a certain radius as long as she’d been there before. As her practice was based in Metropolis, it was no issue for her to teleport to Gotham on short notice.

Additionally, she had little to no interest in the wider hero community besides providing healthcare. Tim didn’t have to worry about compromising his or Kon’s identities; the doctor knew the importance of discretion and was willing to conduct sessions under aliases without looking any deeper.

They sat down across from Dr Yachi at her desk. Tim handed her the folder of documents he had brought along. She pulled out a pair of reading glasses from her pocket and began to go over them.

“First of all,” she began, “I’d like to extend my congratulations on your pregnancy.”

Bernard grinned easily, “Thanks, we’re very excited.”

The doctor laughed warmly, “I can imagine. It can be a lot of work, a lot of stress, but ultimately, it’s worth it.” Her eyes crinkled as she gave them a pleasant smile, “It’s my job to provide you with the care you’ll need to make this experience as easy as possible. Now, it’s my understanding that your other mate, Kon-El, is the sperm donor in this case?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Tim supplied, slipping easily into the composed persona he usually used as Timothy Drake-Wayne. “He won’t be attending today’s session, unfortunately.”

The doctor hummed lightly, “That’s quite right. The data your sponsor provided is more than sufficient for now. Since this is your first appointment, we have to run some routine checks.”

Tim glanced at Bernard, who was sitting up straight with his hands in his lap, fingers intertwined in front of his middle like a shield. He reached a hand over and took one of the omega’s own in his. Bernard glanced down for a split second before refocusing on the doctor’s words. Tim squeezed gently in a wordless gesture of I’m here, don’t worry.

“—Once we’re done with that,” Dr Yachi was saying, “We can get to the fun part.” She gathered the papers and set them aside before getting out of her seat. Tim and Bernard followed her lead.

She led them to the part of the space that was sectioned off by a privacy curtain: the examination room. With a flourish, she pulled back the curtain, revealing an examination table, a cabinet containing an assortment of medical supplies that Tim found himself absently assessing the quality of, and a mounted television screen connected to a device; the ultrasound machine.

“I know you must be excited to see your baby.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The moment the gel touched his belly, Bernard tensed. Tim felt it in the way his mate pressed the pads of his fingers into the back of his hand, tense and stiff.

Dr Yachi smiled placatingly, her voice matronly and soothing, “You’re alright, Mr Draper, I just need you to relax.”

“Yeah, right, sorry,” Bernard laughed nervously, “It’s just, I didn’t think it’d be that cold.”

“Mm, yes, I get that quite a lot.”

Tim squeezed back on his omega’s grip; a silent but steady presence.

Dr Yachi began to move the wand slowly against Bernard’s skin. The screen in front of her turned on, and, seconds later, the television followed suit.

It takes a few seconds for the hazy, black-and-white video to appear on the larger screen. The moment that it does, Tim feels all the breath in his lungs leave his body. Bernard’s grip goes slack in his hand, and he barely has the wherewithal to hold on.

Dr Yachi is speaking, rattling off data points and important information. He knows he should be paying attention; he should be mentally filing it all away so his mate can focus solely on the display. But he, too, is captivated.

That’s our baby. We’re having a baby.

It’s amazing how much better your brain processes information once it has visual evidence.

They look so small and so perfect and, wow, it's real.  Tim’s sharp eyes barely manage to make out the tiny blob-like protrusion that’s probably an arm. It’s almost like they know they're being watched, they know their parents are there, and they’re saying hello.

“Tim, Tim, that’s our baby. Look at our baby.”

Bernard whispers, his voice wobbly with awe and excitement; Tim can feel his fingers trembling in his loose grip. He brings the omega’s hand to his lips and presses a gentle kiss into the skin.

“I see them, love. I see them.”

“Would you like to hear the heartbeat?” Dr Yachi asks softly. The only thing Tim has registered from her since they’d started.

Bernard nods frantically, and Tim verbalises their agreement with a single word.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

The sound drowns out everything else in the room. It’s fast, so fast, but also so strong that Tim feels like it echoes in his bones. Bernard lets out a little gasp, his eyes going wide.

“A hundred and seventy beats per minute. A powerful heart, for sure,” the doctor remarks, “You might have a future athlete on your hands.”

You don’t know the half of it, Tim wants to say as he pictures a curly-haired child flitting across a blue sky, familiar laughter ringing in the clouds. His heart skips a beat, but the baby’s heartbeat remains strong and steady in his ears: a reminder, a promise. I’m on my way, it seems to say.

With tremendous effort, he looks away and towards his love. Bernard is captivated, his eyes shifting rapidly from one detail to the next, committing it to memory. The man is rarely ever silent. Even in awe, even in fear, his mouth moves around quips or remarks or commentary. But now, it's like he expelled all his oxygen and forgot to draw in more. Tim finds he can relate.

It’s over far too quickly, he thinks, vaguely petulant. It’s only when the gel is wiped off and his omega has pulled his shirt back on that he seems to return to himself. He’s giddy, Tim can feel it. Even with the scent patches, the alpha can almost smell the joy leaking off him in waves.

Dr Yachi repeats all the information she had previously told them, with a knowing glint in her eyes.

Contrary to Tim’s earlier thought, their baby is actually on the larger side. Not abnormally so for how far along Bernard is, but it’s definitely on the greater part of the range. Tim blames Kon completely for that one and hopes, for the Kryptonian’s sake, that the baby doesn’t get much larger. Then again, his fingers were less likely to break from their omega’s grip during delivery.

He falls into Bat-mode after that, quizzing the doctor on every possible complication and concern. Ever composed, Dr Yachi takes it in stride, replying efficiently and comprehensively. Tim is absently impressed; he definitely made the right choice.

By the time they were ushered out, with a bag packed with vitamins, several printed ultrasound images, and plenty of knowledge to chew on, Tim felt so invigorated that he was almost light-headed.

“I love you,” Bernard says once he’s inside the car, safely buckled up in the passenger seat. Tim thought for a moment that his mate was talking to him until he continued, “Mommy loves you so much, baby.” He glanced down to see Bernard’s hands resting over his midsection with so much loving tenderness. The sight fills his chest with something more powerful than blood and air.

Tim removes one hand from the steering and rests it over his mate’s midsection. He feels the warmth radiating off his skin through his shirt, and the image of their baby’s form with one arm outstretched flashes in his mind. I’m on my way.

“Your dad loves you, too, sweetheart. And so does your papa. We can wait to see you,” he adds softly.

Chapter Text

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous.”                                     

Bernard watched in the reflection of the mirror as Kon walked up behind him.

“Ugh, don’t tempt me,” Bernard smiled slyly as Kon wrapped his arms around him, “But alas, I’d like not to piss off my father by being even more late.”

Kon trailed soft, bruising kisses up the omega’s neck, his hands slowly circling his waist.

“Conner,” Tim’s tone was edged with playful warning as he peered in from the bedroom and into the closet, “You heard Bernard.”

The beta’s wandering fingers stilled, and he exhaled a puff of hot air onto Bernard’s sensitive scent gland. The omega felt his skin warm as a pleased shudder ran up his spine.

“Has anybody ever told you you’re a killjoy, boy wonder?”

“Numerous people, many, many times. You most of all, I reckon.” Tim replied dryly. He walked up to the Kyrptonian and tugged on the back of his shirt. Conner let himself be pulled off with a “Whoa!”

Bernard turned around just in time to see Kon turn the tables; he had his arm wrapped tightly around Tim’s waist with the alpha pulled flush against him. Kon was staring down at him with eyes that glimmered with wicked heat. Tim had a hand splayed against his chest in a vague suggestion of pushing back, but his gaze was just as hungry.

Bernard groaned, putting his hands on his hips, “You guys are making it hard for me to leave, you know.”

“Damn it, Kon, he’s discovered our secret plan,” Tim laughed as he tugged Bernard closer and into their embrace; the omega giggled as the two of them pressed kisses into his cheeks.

“Okay, okay! I have seriously have to get going,” the omega felt himself flush as he tried to pull away.

His mates reluctantly relented, and Bernard turned back around, inspecting himself in the mirror once again. Conner was right; he did look amazing. And he felt amazing. At first, he had thought that Tim’s idea to, essentially, create a new wardrobe for him was overkill, but he had to begrudgingly admit, it had been the right call.

He was wearing a pair of black denim overalls with an off-white blouse underneath. The sleeves were a little poofy and were bunched up a bit at the wrists. The shirt had a high collar that he kept unbuttoned to show off his two mating marks, stark and obvious against his skin. He tied everything together with some silver jewellery and a couple of earrings from Conner. Everything was loose enough to be comfortable for his growing middle, but fitted enough to still be flattering.

It felt good to dress up after weeks of going to work in casual academia and coming home to veg in maternity bras and stolen sweatpants. Not even the fact that it was all because he was going to have brunch with his parents spoiled that fact.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you there?” Tim questioned, rubbing circles into the small of his back.

“If they saw you, they’re not gonna let you leave. They’ll start trying to butter you up, and then my dad will want to talk about ‘business’, and it’ll just be uncomfortable for everybody involved.”

“Right.” Tim sighed, his lips pursing in thought.

Bernard felt a brief flash of stifling irritation buzz through him before he mentally stamped it out like a smouldering newspaper. Christ, Bernard, he just wants to look out for you.

“How about this,” Conner piped up, “We head to the manor while you go to your folks' place. That way, if anything happens, we can be over in the blink of an eye.”

“You really don’t need—“

“That’s actually a good idea, Kon.”

“What do you mean by ‘actually’?”

Bernard looked at Tim with raised eyebrows, “I’m literally just going to my parents' house for the afternoon. Don’t you think you’re being a little overprotective?” His voice sounded tense even to his ears.

Tim moved to stand in front of him and caressed his face, “Better safe than sorry, darling.”

“We’re not trying to coddle you, baby,” Conner soothed, pressing up behind him, “It’s just, we respect you wanting to do this alone, but we know the kind of effect your folks tend to have on you. We just want to be there for you, to make sure you’re okay.”

“Exactly.”

“Fine, okay, I get it.” He broke away from their hold, somewhat annoyed. He didn’t need to be treated like he was fragile; he was pregnant, not made of glass.

The three of them stepped out of the closet and into the bedroom proper. He retrieved his shoulder bag from a bedside table and walked out of the room, Tim and Kon following behind him like a protective cat and dog, respectively.

It was after a few minutes of wandering about the apartment in heavy silence, filling his bag with water bottles, scent patches and copies of their baby’s ultrasound photos among other miscellaneous items, that he cracked.

He was nervous about the visit, about talking to them after so long. Why wouldn’t he be? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything resembling a pleasant conversation with them. He wanted more than anything to bring his mates along for support, to act as barriers between him and his parents’ likely judgment. He knew, however, he couldn’t do that, not forever. They were going to have to work out their relationship one way or the other, one on one—or, rather, two. If not for his sake, then for the baby’s.

Tim and Kon were right, though. It was going to be a difficult conversation, whether he liked it or not, and now that he was much easier to set off because of his mood swings, he could get stressed really easily. It was only natural for them to want to support him, and he needed to accept it.

“I’m sorry for being difficult,” the omega said, faintly embarrassed, “I know I’m usually bad at being pampered, but I do appreciate you guys looking out for me.”

They stood in the entryway as Bernard was about to enter the elevator, scenting each other one last time before the omega left.

Kon wrapped him in a hug, and Tim kissed his forehead “It’s alright, Bear, we know. I’m sorry for being too pushy, but still, call us if you need a rescue at any point.”

“We love you, and we’ll be right here for you when you get back.” Kon crouched so that his face was level with Bernard's midsection, “And you too, baby. Take care of Mama Bear for me and try not to give him too much trouble today,”

Bernard felt a soft smile split his face. Truth be told, he’s started the day anxious about what was to come, but it was hard to stay tense when he was bombarded with care from all sides. Now, he felt a bit better, a bit more ready. How bad could the brunch possibly be?

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Bernard had grown up perfectly middle-class in the suburbs of Gotham City. His father was a businessman in the medical sector, buying and distributing medical equipment to private practices and government institutions alike, and his mother worked as a teacher at an elite private school.

They were both staunchly traditional. His father was an alpha, and his mother was a beta and in their eyes, his status as an omega fit perfectly into their cookie-cutter idea of pack and family. Perhaps, in another life, it would have been a source of wounded pride that their only child was an omega, but (un)luckily, his parents had the idea that he would be the one to move their family from the fringes of Gotham’s high society into its beating, bleeding, frigid heart.

In his childhood, they had been attentive parents on paper, spoiling him with gifts and trinkets and the bare minimum of physical affection needed to raise a proper omega, one with grace and dignity and poise. One who was perfect to be married off to a rich socialite that would bring their family into the silk folds of Gotham’s most prestigious.

The problem was that Bernard wasn’t interested. By the time he’d entered middle school, he saw his parents’ ‘love’ for what it was: a sexist, manipulative, suffocating ploy to mould him into the perfect bargaining chip.

He remembered his first real fight with his father had been when he was fourteen years old, fresh off his presentation heat—that he’d been left to spend miserably alone—and furious that the man had immediately tried to suggest he accompany him on a company retreat and spend time with the nice young alpha daughter of one of his associates. He had screamed himself hoarse at the dinner table, demanding to know why they never really spent time with him, why they were adamant he dress a certain way, act a certain way, and why they were so insistent he spend more time with the rich alpha upperclassmen at his school.

“I don’t get it. Why do I have to be your omega son? Why can’t I just be your son, Dad!?”

He had stormed off to his room, hyperventilating and with his vision blurred by tears; his body teemed with difficult feelings, foreign urges and unbalanced hormones. All he fucking wanted was his dad, his pack Alpha, to scent him and hold him and tell him he was sorry and that everything would be fine, but at the same time, he wanted to scream at him until his voice was shot, pack a bag and get out from under the air of oppression he felt was packed into his home.

His mom had come upstairs with a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of warm gingersnap cookies. Her mellow lemongrass scent calmed him down somewhat; he ate his cookies in sniffly silence as she had stroked his hair.

“Your father and I want the best for you. We just want to make sure you have a good future, one where you’re happy and cared for. You don’t have to go to the retreat next weekend; you can stay home and bring some friends. Anyone you want, maybe that alpha boy from the music club I’ve been hearing so much about.”

He’d stiffened in her arms, his chocolate turning to ash in his mouth and his cookies sinking like stones in his gut. His new citrusy pheromones soured in discomfort and displeasure, and fresh tears leaked from his eyes, and yet, whether it was due to her lacking beta senses or some sort of general detachment, his mother hadn’t said a thing. All she did was rock him uselessly as he sobbed silently, mourning his childhood and the agency he’d never had.

From that moment forward, nothing was the same in that house. He and his father fought heatedly every other week while his mother stood quietly, meek and yet still vaguely disapproving in the background.

When he’d brought home his first girlfriend, a pretty omega girl by the name of Gwen, his father had threatened to ship him off to an omega-only prep school. Bernard had laughed in his face.

After high school, after Tim, after Darla, he was ready to start over in college. He saved up enough and moved out of his parents’ house and stopped speaking to them entirely. His mother reached out occasionally; their conversations were tense but pleasant, and she rarely ever spoke of his father except to comment on his general well-being.

By his second year of college, his parents had both retired and using the money they had saved up and some of his dad’s inheritance, they bought a house in one of the marginally less affluent neighbourhoods in Bristol. It seemed that even without using him, they’d managed to scramble up the social ladder just like they’d wanted. Thinking about it made him faintly ill.

Through a few charged and sombre visits since he graduated college, they’d come to a sort of emotional impasse that none of them wanted to yield ground over. His father’s loud opinions became cutting and snide remarks, and his mother’s icy disapproval became timid disappointment, and he told himself he was fine with it. He had to be.

The worst argument they’d had since then was over him mating with Tim and Kon. They had been ecstatic over Tim (eventually, when he became the CEO of Wayne Enterprises), but uncomfortable over Conner. That discussion had been cold and frank; Bernard wasn’t going to debate with them over his choices in his romantic life, so they either dealt with it or they would never hear from him again. It had worked, surprisingly. Even after everything, he figured they still loved him in their own detached, vague and fucked up way.

He told himself that it was the best he could get from them and that he was fine with it. He had to be. He didn’t want to lose them, not forever.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The doorbell chimed softly. Its tone was very neutral; it was supposed to be simple and easy on the ears, and yet, Bernard could feel a headache building at his temples. He felt dizzy. Dizzy and nauseous.

His car was parked a few feet down the street from the home, shaded from the brightness of the midday sun by a leaning sycamore. It was, in all honesty, a lovely day. The sky was clear—by Gotham standards—and the chill of fall was pleasant instead of biting.

He waited for what felt like ages, absently twisting the rings on his fingers, and he idly scanned the fresh lawn and modest flower garden. So clean and uniform, it was almost uncanny.

The front door swung open with the barest of creaks, startling him. The omega found himself face-to-face with a middle-aged woman dressed in a stereotypical maid outfit. She had no scent to speak of; likely, she wore strong blockers, which would make sense if she worked in the house.

He blinked, “Uh, hi? I’m Bernard, I’m here to see my parents?” he trailed off like he was asking a question. Since when did they get a housekeeper?

The woman’s face was carefully blank as she stared at him for a second too long before finally speaking, “They have been excitedly anticipating your arrival, Master Bernard. Please, follow me.”

Bernard fought back a frown at her words and tone. The only person who called him ‘Master Bernard’ was Alfred Pennyworth, and the Waynes’ grandfather-figure always did so with the subtle lovingkindness he reserved for packmates.

To his mild surprise, the woman didn’t lead him past the threshold; instead, she side-stepped him on the porch steps and hopped down to the lawn. They walked to the edge of the property, where the woman revealed a gated archway strategically covered in climbing vines in an attempt to look naturally overgrown. It would have worked if the rest of the garden weren't aggressively neat.

The wrought iron gate swung open, and the housekeeper gestured for him to step past first. A cold flash of ridiculous fear curled in his gut before he shook it off and did as he was told.

The back of the house wasn’t much different from its front; it still had cleanly cut grass, off-puttingly symmetric bushes and points of uncanniness where there had been an attempt to let nature roam. Poison Ivy would be insulted.

Almost precisely in the middle of the space was a moderately sized gazebo painted the colour of fresh snow. Instead of the usual wrap-around seating area, there was a large, round wooden table painted the same colour as the gazebo. The table had been covered with a frill tablecloth, a few shades off from the rest of the colour scheme; it was laden with plates of appetising-looking food, and around it were three ornate-looking wooden chairs.

And in one of those chairs sat his mother.

Beatrice Dowd had her wavy blonde hair pulled up in a bun at the base of her skull. She wore an ankle-length flower-pattered dress with a high-neck collar that concealed the column of her throat. Her lips curled in a small smile when she caught sight of him, her light wrinkles becoming more pronounced with the action.

“Bernie, dear, it’s lovely to see you. I’ve missed you, darling!” Her tone was warm and light, odd, in Bernard’s opinion, for someone who deliberately hadn’t spoken to her son in almost half a year.

She spread her arms wide for a hug once he climbed up the gazebo steps. He allowed himself to be embraced, his fingers hesitantly patting her back in reciprocation. He resisted the urge to inhale her subtle lemongrass scent as it wafted off her. His own scent was stifled by blockers, something he always did around his father to maintain privacy.

“Come on, dear, sit down,” she gestured to the seat next to her as she took her place at the table. He was hesitant; he would have preferred to sit in the seat across from her on the other side of the table, but his mother’s eyes were insistent, bordering on pleading. He relented.

She reached across the table for a pot of coffee, intending to pour him a cup. He wrinkled his nose and grimaced at the stench that wafted from the open lid. “No thanks, mom, I can’t drink coffee right now.”

She looked at him quizzically, “Oh, don’t worry, it’s decaffeinated.”

“It’s not like that, I just don’t like the…taste anymore.” It was more like his body physically rejected everything about it, but what he said was more or less the same.

“Alright then, your father and I usually just have coffee and some water, but I can ask Madeline to make you some tea.”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll just have water. So,” he glanced at the screen door that led into the house, “Where is dad anyway? I have something to tell you guys that’s—“

The phrase ‘speak of the devil and he shall appear’  had never been more applicable to his life than in that moment. Before he could even part his lips to speak his next words, the screen door creaked open and Gregory Dowd made his presence known.

He was just as imposing as Bernard had last seen him; his built frame remained unimpeded by the passage of time, his lion’s mane of a brown beard had only a handful of grey hairs scattered throughout, and his hairline had barely shifted from age.

His bold and domineering scent of aged pine seemed to billow menacingly from him like invisible smoke. Even in a simple grey turtleneck and slacks, he walked with purpose, intention, and an air of arrogance.

Bernard tried, and failed, to keep the frown off his face.

His father made it to the gazebo in a handful of strides. He walked past his wife and child without a word and sat in the only remaining seat. Bernard watched, half-expectant, as his father poured himself a cup of coffee, adding two spoonfuls of creamer and a teaspoon of sugar before stirring slowly.

Bernard allowed himself a forceful exhale through his nose before speaking, barely succeeding in keeping his tone level, “Hi, Dad, it’s nice to see you too.”

The alpha dropped his stirring spoon onto a napkin before lifting his mug to his lips and taking a generous sip. “Bernard, how have you been, son?” His tone was flat and without a shred of emotion.

“Good, great in fact!” Bernard gave a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His father paid his glare no mind and instead focused on serving himself food from the assortment on display.

“That’s lovely, dear,” his mom piped up awkwardly, “Tell me, how’s work? Not too stressful, I hope.”

For the next half hour, Bernard and his mother engaged in small talk, with minimal interjection from his dad, as they all ate. The omega found that his appetite was lacking, and the nausea that had plagued him since he arrived was still lingering at the back of his throat.

Anytime he tried to give more details about the recent happenings in his life, about his mates or friends or even his hobbies, his mother would glance surreptitiously at her husband and then re-route the conversation. Bernard wasn't stupid, he knew she was trying to stop him from setting off his dad, but he honestly couldn’t care less. He still let her, though; he had to admit, it felt nice to talk to his mom again, to hear her laugh, without any overt tension between them.

“Bernard.”

The omega paused, in the middle of recounting to his mother an interesting lecture he had given the week prior, and turned to look at his dad. The older man’s attention was squarely on him; eyes that were too similar to his own bore into him unflinchingly. “Yeah, Dad?” he replied, voice somewhat weary.

“Your mother and I,” he dabbed the side of his mouth with a napkin despite there being nothing to wipe away, “We’ve been talking. We aren’t getting any younger—”

Oh no.

“—and, quite frankly, neither are you.”

Are you serious right now?

“Honey, I don’t think—“

Gregory silenced his wife with a look.

“Don’t you think it’s time you and your alpha started thinking about the future? About children?”

His mother bit her lip, hesitance and something guarded layered over her expression. She spoke as admonishingly as she could manage, “Gregory, dear, I don’t think now is the time for this.”

Bernard felt bile threatening to climb his throat. He swallowed audibly, trying to suppress his gag reflex. His father’s gaze remained stoic, perhaps defiant. His younger self would have felt fear and even hopelessness at his stare, but now it looked strangely petulant.

“You’re actually serious right now.” His tone might have been questioning, but Bernard definitely meant it as a statement. A realisation.

His father scoffed, leaning back against with crossed arms, “Of course, I’m serious. I know you want children, and your alpha must want them as well. If he’s worth his salt, he’ll know to secure his legacy.” He spoke coolly, his tone steeped in arrogant surety. And because he was a petty, vindictive bastard under his pretence of sophistication, he had to add “Legitimately, that is.”

Bernard’s chair scraped against the floor as he pushed back against the table and stood up. In a swift motion, he grabbed his water glass and threw the contents in his father’s direction mid-speech. His shaking hands threw off his aim, so instead of water splashing onto the alpha’s face and shirt, it landed on the floor next to him with only a few droplets landing on his person.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Bernard yelled, “That’s why you wanted to see me?! You wanted to guilt me into having kids? Are you kidding me?”

His voice was trembling, and his breath was coming in shorter and shorter, but he couldn’t stop. “Of course, you have to take a dig at Tim being adopted. And I have two mates, you asshat!”

His mom raised her hands in placation, her waterline flooding, “Bernard, please, it’s not like that—“

He whirled to face her, cheeks red and eyes blurring with frustrated tears, “Not like what, Mom? You’re the one who called me, so don’t even try to say you don’t agree with him, you always have!”

He thought back to all the times she had ‘comforted’ him after he fought with his dad, only for her to urge him to ‘see his father’s side of things’ and that they ‘only wanted the best for him’. What a joke. Her manipulation somehow felt more insidious than his father’s.

“You don’t speak to your mother like that!” his father thundered, rising from his seat.

“You don’t get to talk to me like I’m fourteen, Dad!” he spat back, “I can’t believe I actually thought we’d be able to talk things out like adults. You haven’t changed at all,” he finished bitterly.

“Bernard, dear, we only—“

“Want what’s best for me? Is that what you want to say?” he scoffed.  The thought of smashing the glass crossed his mind, but he thought better of it; it wasn't like his parents would be the ones to clean it up. He set down the glass and grabbed his shoulder bag from the back of his chair.

“Where do you think you're going, young man?” His father’s face was twisted and stony as he stood to his full height, glaring at his son.

“Fuck you, I’m twenty-six, asshole. And I’m going home to my actual family.”

His mother hastily got to her feet and reached for him, her eyes still teary and imploring. He pulled away almost aggressively. His head throbbed with the force of all his emotions warring for dominance. He wanted to scream or cry or hit something or all three at the same time.

His father looked like he wanted to say something else, probably scathing and demeaning in equal measure. Bernard cut him off by pulling out a handful of photos from his bag and throwing them onto the table.

“This is what I wanted to accomplish today. I’m three months pregnant. Conner is the sire, not Tim, and I don’t give a fuck what you think about it.” He took a shuddering breath; his voice was shaky with emotion.

His parents stared speechless at the ultrasound photos. His mother’s fingers twitched forward like she wanted to reach out and grab at them, but was afraid, as if they might burn her. His dad’s expression was one of genuine surprise, a truly rare occurrence for him.

“I came here because I thought you guys deserved a second chance to know your grandchild. I wanted to give you the chance to make amends for their sake, not even mine. But now I know you’ll never change, not for me, not for the baby, not for anybody.”

He walked off the gazebo, grass bending under the weight of his furious steps. He could feel himself hyperventilating, his breaths were coming in rapid and short, and he wanted to vomit; he needed to get away.

“I was never a son to you people, and now I never will be. Don’t contact me or my family ever again.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

He didn’t even make it halfway to his car before his breakfast and the bare morsels he managed to choke down at brunch re-introduced themselves violently to the world in a spray of bile and stomach acid.

Bernard fell to his knees on the asphalt and sobbed. How could he have been so stupid? What kind of parent was he for wanting his kid to grow up knowing grandparents like that? Maybe he wasn’t actually cut out to be a mom, if that was how his parents acted, if that was the way he was raised.

His scent patches were soaked through with the odour of rotting oranges. He scratched them off roughly, tossing them into his puddle of puke. He clutched his abdomen and rocked forward in a self-soothing gesture as he cried, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I'm so sorry.”

The last thing he expected, as he knelt hunched over on the cold concrete, feeling himself unravel messily and loudly, was for arms to wrap around him. Strong, familiar arms that smelt of cherrywood and pulled him into a crushing embrace. Another pair of arms, warmer, larger still and carrying the scent of dew-drenched earth enveloped him from behind.

He could only tremble and wail as comforting rumbles and soothing purrs buzzed in his ears and bones.

At some point, when his sobs turned to sniffles and his shaking turned to occasional shudders, he registered that he was being carried. Kon was carrying his to the car, princess-style and pressing Bernard close to his chest.

He was placed in the back seat on his side, staring vacantly at the passenger seat. Kon slid in next to his head, lifting it so that Bernard could rest on his thigh. The car engine sputtered to life, and they took off down the street, driving back to their apartment in the city proper.

Tim and Kon tried to talk to him, but it was like his ears were full of cotton and his mouth was filled with taffy. He tried, he really did, but he felt exhausted. In every sense of the word. So he tumbled into fitful unconsciousness.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Bear?”

“Hmm?” His hum was muffled by one of Conner’s shirts.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bernard turned his head so that he could look Tim in the face. “There’s nothing to talk about. They were terrible, like always, and I was stupid for thinking that they would change.”

Bernard had woken up from his involuntary nap when they arrived back at the apartment building. He seemed to have cried out everything he had in the car because he had been feeling nothing but numbness since they set foot in their home.

As if on autopilot, he made a nest in the living room. It was haphazard and messy and not at all how he usually operated, but he couldn’t bring himself to make it any better. It still served its purpose decently well; being surrounded by comforting scents grounded him.

His mates had busied themselves with trying to make him as comfortable as possible. Tim followed him around as he gathered nesting materials, helping him carry pillows and armfuls of laundry to the living room. Kon was making food for him in the kitchen; he didn’t know what it was, but his stomach felt so empty he would probably eat anything, food aversions be damned.

Tim’s lips thinned into a line, and his eyebrows drew together in a subtle display of upset. His scent projected calmness and comfort, but Bernard could detect an undercurrent of tension. “You’re not stupid for having wanted to reconcile with your parents.” The alpha was on his knees so that he was eye-level with the sofa; he reached out a hand and stroked the side of Bernard's face. “None of this is your fault, okay? None of it.”

Bernard's scent was still sour with melancholy, and he could tell it was affecting Tim more than Kon. His instincts were probably screaming at him to fix things, to make his pregnant omega feel better and eliminate what caused him harm.

“Sometimes, I wonder,” he said lowly, “If things would have been better if I weren’t born an omega.”

Tim’s lips thinned with restrained frustration—not directed at him—and brushed his fingers against Bernard’s cheek, caressing the flesh, “You’re perfect the way you are, not because you’re an omega, but because you’re you. You’re Bernard: incredible, kind, loving, loud, beautiful, passionate, and amazing. And I love you.”

The omega closed his eyes against Tim’s touch. If he had any tears left, he's sure he would have started crying all over again.

“Can I come in?” Kon was standing over him with a lap tray in his hands. He was smiling, soft and mellow, but still in that uniquely bright way that was signature to him.

Bernard dragged himself into a seating position, “Yeah, sure,”

Tim rose to his feet and settled on the other side when Kon sat down. The tray was placed over him, and he picked up a spoon to start eating. It was spinach soup, a favourite of his and always easy on the stomach.

“You’re folks are assholes. After everything they’ve done, you can think or say whatever the hell you want about them, it’s the least you deserve.” Kon stated, bluntly.

“Kon’s right, you don’t owe them anything. Definitely not the chance you gave them,” Tim added on. The alpha grabbed the TV remote and switched on the screen. Soon enough, the room was filled with the low sounds of an old over-the-top horror movie, one of Bernard’s favourites.

The omega didn’t reply immediately. He ate a few spoonfuls of soup; it was really, really good as always. A shame he could barely taste it.

Bernard stared down at his bowl, swirling the contents absently with his spoon. “I can’t even bring myself to hate them completely. I thought—“ he choked, and, oh,  it seemed like he still had tears in him, “A part of me never stopped hoping that they would change, but now I know they won't, they never will, and—“ he let out a mournful keen. Kon removed the tray from his lap and set it on the floor just in time for Bernard to fold in on himself, a sob wracking through his frame. His mates crowded in on him, their bodies acting as shields from the world.

“After all this time, it still hurts so much. Why does it hurt so much?”

Tim and Kon said nothing as he cried out everything he had kept in his heart about his parents for the last decade. He mourned the absence of the bond he had so desperately wanted with them for most of his life. His baby would grow up with one less set of grandparents, and, somehow, he couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault.

Chapter Text

“I need you to sit up so I can wash your hair, love.”

Bernard rose slowly from the bathwater, revealing his shoulders and the lower half of his face. The crown of his head was inches away from Tim’s chin, and blond strands clung to the skin of his cheeks and the back of his neck.

“You don’t have to,” the omega mumbled, his voice subdued, “I can wash it myself.”

Tim hummed as if in consideration as he reached over Bernard’s shoulder to grab the shampoo from where it rested against the wall on the lip of the basin. “I want to wash your hair, though. May I?”

“If it’s what you want,” Bernard stated, shifting forward in the water to give Tim the space to move.

“It is,” Tim assured the omega.

The water sloshed gently against Bernard’s back as Tim rose to his knees. With a flick of his finger, the lid of the shampoo bottle snapped open, and the alpha squirted a generous dollop into the palm of his hand. He set the bottle down and, with his now free hand, worked the liquid into a lather, then he began to spread it over his mate’s scalp.

Bernard let out a tiny sigh as he felt Tim’s fingers massage the roots of his hair.

About a week had passed since Bernard had visited his parents. And…he was, understandably, not himself. Tim and Conner put their all into supporting him, but it seemed like the one person who still blamed Bernard was himself.

In a concerning instance, the day after the event, he woke up first out of the three of them and worked in the kitchen for hours, preparing a truly expansive variety of food for breakfast. It was clear he was using it as a coping mechanism, and Tim wished he’d actually eaten more of what he made.

Tim knew better than most the forms that grief took and the unique pain one felt with the loss or breakdown of familial connection. Even if he tried to do it as silently as possible, Bernard was still grieving, and it was plain to see. He cracked jokes and smiled, but his eyes were duller, his expressions weaker, and his scent more subdued.

It set something off inside of Tim, a roiling, simmering anger, as he saw the man he loved in that state, the light from his bright character gone from him because the people who were supposed to raise him with love and care had failed him so miserably, time and time again. Tim supposed Gregory Dowd was lucky that he was already in retirement.

“You’re hair’s getting longer. And thicker.” The alpha observed as he squeezed out the suds from the ends of Bernard’s hair.

Bernard reached from his scalp and pulled a couple of single blond strands from the rest of the soapy mass, drawing them out to gauge the length in the bathroom’s lighting.

“Yeah, it is. Shinier too.”

“Mhm,” Tim reached behind himself for the hand-held shower head, “Do you want to cut it?”

The water rippled in front of Bernard as the omega moved his hand to rest on his swelling middle. Tim felt his heart swell a little as he heard the genuine smile in his mate’s voice as he said, “Nah. It kinda feels like they’re rewarding me after trimester one, y’know,” his voice rose an octave, “’ Thank you for carrying me for twelve weeks, Mama. Now, no more morning sickness and also shiny hair!

Even while he was going through a rough patch, Bernard was never not happy about their baby. In the past week, he’d begun to talk to the baby at night when he had trouble falling asleep or just at random points in the day, carrying one-sided conversations about anything he was doing. Oftentimes, Kon would join in enthusiastically, often getting into imaginary debates about anything and everything. Tim did so too, usually as an opposing side in Kon’s arguments or late at night, winding down from patrol.

Tim chuckled as he told his mate, “Close your eyes, I need to wash the soap out.”

Bernard did as suggested, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back slightly.

The nozzle sprayed warm water over Bernard’s hair. Tim was careful not to let any droplets slip past the omega’s forehead; he meticulously squeezed out the suds as they trailed through the omega’s golden locks, dripping off the ends.

Once the showerhead was clicked off and returned to its holder, Tim grabbed a towel and began drying his mate’s hair.

Bernard’s face was soft from the relaxing treatment, the tension dripping off him like the soapy water from his locks.

When his hair had turned from sopping to damp, Tim tied the towel around Bernard’s head. His fingers made their way to the pinkish skin of his shoulders, squeezing them affectionately. The alpha placed a kiss on Bernard’s cheek before whispering, “You wanna get out now?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Tim placed another kiss on his neck before moving to rise out of the water. He stepped out onto the bathmat, water cascading down his form in thin streams as he moved to get more towels.

He could feel his mate’s eyes on his as he moved, trailing over his nude figure absently. He was about to comment something playful and cheesy, like it’s rude to stare or like what you see?  when the omega spoke up in a mellow tone, “I love you, Tim.”

Tim turned around slowly, towels slung over a shoulder, his features softening from teasing to tender.

“I love you, too, Bear. Conner and I love you so much. We’ve got you, okay? Always.”

Bernard had an arm propped up on the edge of the bath and was resting his tilted head on his closed fist, “Yeah, I know.” He smiled, “I’ll be okay, you don’t have to be so worried all the time.”

In a few steps, Tim was in front of the tub, extending a hand to assist his partner out of the water; Bernard took it gratefully. “It’s all I ever do, you know that.”

The omega sighed, shaking his head as he climbed out, “Yeah, I do. Maybe without the secret modifications to my stereo, hmm?”

Tim replied, entirely deadpan as he handed Bernard his towel, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

With his towel tied around his chest, Bernard pressed closer to Tim and kissed him chastely on the mouth, “Of course you don’t,” he murmured.

“You were right, the bath was a good idea. I definitely don’t feel as sore as before.”

Emotionally and physically, Tim reckoned. “I usually am,” the alpha responded playfully, receiving a dramatic eyeroll as Bernard wandered over to the sink to brush his teeth.

Tim drained the tub while his mate did his care ritual and then walked over to join him. He wrapped gentle arms around Bernard’s middle as he applied his face cream.

“How about a movie?”

“Don’t you have patrol tonight? I think you should get some sleep before then.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Bernard glanced at him skeptically in the mirror. “That big case you guys just finished kept you up almost all week. Get some sleep, Tim, please.” He patted over where Tim’s hand rested on his belly, “For us?”

Tim placed a kiss on his mating mark, hiding a smile in his skin, “Okay, I will, for you guys.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Conner greeted Tim with a soft smile from the couch as he entered the living room. The TV screen was paused on the blurry frame of an action movie, barely adding to the slight illumination provided by the light fixtures.

“Hey, there, handsome. How was patrol?”

The beta had both arms slung over the back of the couch, his head craning to watch Tim as he walked over to him.

“Fine. Nothing too crazy.” Aside from some reconnaissance for ongoing cases, he only dealt with a few low-stakes attempted break-ins, a couple of domestic disputes, and one attempted cat-napping (Damian was especially enthusiastic about that one) on his route—definitely a quieter night in Gotham City.

Kon hummed in response, his eyes squinting as he engaged his x-ray vision.

Tim stood behind the couch, now, looking down at Kon’s searching gaze with a fond expression. He leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth, “Just some bruised ribs. It’s already been looked over; I’ll be fine in a few days.”

Conner’s eyes fluttered closed as he captured Tim’s lips in his once again. Their mouths moved a little awkwardly from their position, but the act was nevertheless languid and sweet.

“Mmm, okay then,” Kon said as they pulled away, “Get over here.”

Tim chuckled and was moving to round the couch when the Kryptonian reached behind himself to grab Tim under the arms. Tim felt his body become light as TTK enveloped him; he was pulled off his feet, his weightless body carried above Kon’s head before being deposited in the beta’s lap.

It was fast; Tim barely had any time to react. One second, he was standing behind the couch, and the next, he was in Kon’s lap with the man’s warm arms and wet earth scent enveloping him.

“Okay then,” Tim smiled, amused, as Kon pulled him close, sighing into his clavicle, “Someone’s feeling clingy.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“You saw me this morning, Conner.” Tim rubbed his mate’s back soothingly, his scent bleeding fuzzy comfort.

“Exactly, too long,” the Kryptonian grumbled, “I’m recharging.”

“Oh? I barely get enough sun myself, so I doubt there’s much to absorb, even if you could.”

Kon was silent for a beat, then he pulled back and reached up to cradle Tim’s face. “If Bear’s my sunshine, you’re my north star, Tim. My guiding light in the dark.”

Tim felt warmth bloom in his face from his cheeks to the tips of his ears; he was faintly thankful for the dim lighting in the living room before registering that Kon could see him perfectly fine.

He cleared his throat and looked away, flustered, his gaze focusing on the far wall, ideally noting the framed photos that resided on it; Bernard’s master’s diploma, a picture of Kon posing with Krypto in a cornfield, a Polaroid taken by Jason of all three of them at the beach, a group photo of his entire family and his closest friends at his twenty-fifth birthday, among others.

After how many years of being together in every capacity, Conner still surprised him often with how easily he could render him speechless.

“Geez, you’re so…cheesy.” I love you.

From the corner of his averted eyes, Tim could see Kon’s serious face melt back into a teasing smile. The beta pulled him back into his chest, the pressure of his hold strong but careful not to aggravate his injury.

“I love you, too, Timmy.”

“Mm, yeah,” Tim whispered, “How was he when you came back?” he asked, referring to their melancholic pregnant partner.

“He seemed okay. Was falling asleep on the couch,” Kon chuckled, his breath tickling the skin of Tim’s neck, “I guess he was waiting up. He complained about his back, so I gave him a massage, and then, he was out like a light.”

“I might need that tonight. I feel kinda wired.”

“You sure everything’s okay?” A bit of concern coloured Kon’s murmured question.

Tim huffed, a hand reaching up to play with short strands at the back of Conner’s head, “Nothing ever really ‘okay’ in Gotham, but, yes, I’m good. I have a really long meeting tomorrow, so I just want to get enough sleep.”

“A few years ago, I would have had to drag you to bed,” Conner said, a nostalgic lilt clear in his voice.

“Well, we have a baby on the way, and I can’t exactly set good examples for my kid if I don’t have good habits.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” Conner teased. He slipped his hands under the fabric of Tim’s shirt, his gentle and expert touch unravelling the knots of tension beneath Tim’s skin as his fingers travelled over the expanse of the alpha’s back and shoulders.

“I’m always self-aware,” Tim mumbled with a sigh, his body sagging contentedly into Conner’s.

Tim didn’t even realise he had drifted off until the sound of a gunshot startled him awake. He sprang into a sitting position, a hand flying to jab Kon in the middle in a bid to get him to release his hold.

“Owww. It’s okay, Tim, you’re safe, it’s just the TV.”

The alpha blinked once, then twice, clearing the drowsiness from his mind. “Oh,” he said, craning his neck to look at the screen over his shoulder, which was indeed flashing brightly in the dimly lit room. The volume was low enough that he could barely make out the dialogue, but he gathered it was the same movie he had walked in on Conner watching; it seemed to be a western.

“Sorry, Kon,” he said, turning back to face his mate.

The kryptonian pulled Tim back towards him again, “S’okay. Maybe it’s time to join Bear in bed.”

Tim sighed into Kon’s shirt, trying and failing to hold onto his fleeting sleepiness, “You can go ahead. I don’t think I can go back to sleep anymore. I’ll do some work instead.”

“What happened to setting a good example?”

Tim pushed against Kon’s chest gently, and the kryptonian allowed him to extract himself from his embrace. He got to his feet, bending backwards in a slight stretch, and he scrunched his face at the slight popping sound the action generated. He wasn’t even a dad yet, and he already felt old.

“I’ve got a handful of months left. These things take time, y’know.”

Conner leaned over the couch cushions to retrieve the TV remote and, with the press of a button, switched it off. Without the extra artificial light, Tim only just barely made out the sight of Kon’s flat stare, “Right. Of course.”

“Exactly,” Kon rose silently to his feet as well, tilting his head to press a kiss to Tim’s forehead. His mate laced their fingers together as they made their way to the dark corridor, “I won’t be long, probably just look over tomorrow’s meeting agenda. And maybe some casework for Jason, I promised I’d help him look over some shipping records for…”, his voice trailed off as he continued his train of thought mentally, his brain already warming up for another late night of detective work.

Kon halted his musings with a warm chuckle, “Just don’t get carried away. You know I’ve never been opposed to physically hauling your ass to bed.”

“That won’t be necessary tonight,” Tim insisted, like a liar, “Trust me.”

“I trust you with my life, heart, body and soul, Tim,” Kon whispered as he cracked open the bedroom door, “But definitely not with your sleep schedule.”

“Rude.”

Tim peered into the room, spotting a lump in the centre of the bed that was definitely his sleeping omega, cuddled under the comforter.

“It’s the truth, love.” Kon hugged him one more time in the doorway before bidding him goodnight and swearing to drag him from his office if he wasn’t in bed before two hours elapsed. Tim only smiled at the playful threat, promising to meet his challenge.

(He failed, of course.)