Chapter Text
The loud bang at the door abruptly shakes him off the merciful doze he’d managed to drift in, after a frankly ridiculous amount of effort.
He knew it. He knew he shouldn’t have delayed the rent another week, but… he had to go to that doctor. That filthy creeper, looking him up and down without a glimpse of subtlety, running hands on him unnecessarily slow during the examination. He was the cheapest Jason was able to find, and still, expensive enough that, along with the medicine written down on the prescription he’d handed Jason, the whole thing costed something less than half his month’s salary. Which means that, if he wants to be able to have a somewhat proper meal daily for the rest of the month (which is a necessity now, due to his condition), the rent has to slide back.
The janitorial position he’s currently holding is far from ideal. They pay him under the table, which means, of course, less than minimum wage, and being treated like he’s no better than the dirt under their shoes. Everything would be easier is if he just got himself a real, legal job, but using his social security number and legal name would mean Bruce would locate him within twenty-four hours at most, and he’s… definitely not ready for this. He’s decided this job will have to do until he’s able to obtain fake papers. He’s just hoping that day comes before he needs to deal with the hospital bills and general newborn expenses.
Stealing is out of the question. Jason can’t bring himself to do that anymore. He’s not that desperate just yet.
Every single day, he tries to convince himself that it doesn’t matter. That he’s fine like this. That it’s not always going to be this way. After all, money’s enough for renting a room in this week-to-week SRO, and having a roof above his head is comforting enough. Right now, it’s actually far cleaner and generally taken care of than the day he moved in. It’s not like he had many things to do in his free time, so making up the room was a task both productive and distracting. He was also able to buy a decent blanket, sheets, food, toiletries and the couple of essentials an underage, lonely and pregnant omega would need for their own protection, especially when living in such neighborhoods -scent gland covers, for example. The only other expense he allows himself these days is the occasional second-hand-book from the nice little store on his way to work. He saves everything else, as much as he can.
It’s more than he had before Bruce took him in.
The bang repeats itself, louder this time.
Jason doesn’t even blink his eyes open. He’s far too tired even for that. The sound simply has him further curling up to himself, letting out a soft moan as he feels the deep, steady pain slowly returning all over his lower belly and his pelvis.
He folds his hands over his stomach and grits his teeth. Not again…
Another bang, and he buries his face in the pillow. He intends to pretend that he isn’t inside until his bastard manager finally heads off, and…
“Open, up, kid.”
Jason freezes, his eyes immediately popping open wide.
He slowly sits up over the clean sheets of his tattered mattress -the ancient bed creaking squeakily at the movement- and stays silent, harking. Trying to make sure this isn’t just his imagination.
“Kid, I’m not famous of my patience, and frankly, I can bring this pathetic relic of a door down with a single kick.”
Jason gasps, losing the ground under his feet. His mind fills with thick mist, and the only thing managing to keep him in reality is his terror of anyone being alerted due to the commotion. It’s far from a discreet place, and so far, he’s managed quite well on skipping everyone’s attention. He’s particularly done his best to avoid the couple of meth head alphas living two doors down the hall. He’s always tiptoeing passing by their door and has repeatedly heard them talking in degrading terms about omegas and all the things they’d do if they got their hands on one. Last thing he wants is them finding out about him. Not to mention that if Slade keeps banging on the door like that he will most definitely do some damage and then, apart from a new gap on his sadly mediocre safety net, he’d also have to deal anew with the manager.
He stumbles a bit, making his way to the door. The muscles of his hand trembling as he turns the doorknob and opens.
Familiar, aggressively heavy alpha scent overwhelms him before he’s even half-way through: smoke, burning wood and black pepper. Slade’s standing on the threshold, broad, huge, towering up above him, single eye peering down at him. Clenched jaw and gritted teeth.
Jason takes a few steps back, arms instinctively, protectively hugging around himself. Considering that he’s just jumped out of bed, he’s only in a simple pair of sweatpants and oversized white t-shirt, his hair probably flying to every direction. A true mess. He loathes how shocked, how clearly intimidated he must be looking -he’s actually stopped breathing- as the alpha comes forward, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.
It’s kind of strange that, after three months living there, Jason just now realizes how tiny the space is -how close they are to each other as Slade closes most of the distance in one large stride. Jason’s now standing with his back pressed against the narrow window, Slade soaring up to the ceiling, it seems, taking a slow, calculative look around, before his eye eventually ends up to him once again.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks in a dangerously calm, low voice.
Jason tries not to shiver. To maintain eye contact. “What’d you care? What do you want?”
Slade narrows his eye, a low, warning growl pulled up from his chest. It makes Jason’s knees weaken even more. “You ran away,” he basically accuses him.
“That’s none of your business—!”
“Your father is looking everywhere for you.”
Jason’s breath catches. “Bruce…”
“I haven’t contacted him yet.”
Great. Just great. Now he’s going to have to sit through a preaching delivered to him by Slade, of all people. As if he doesn’t feel guilty enough already. As if thinking about home, about Alfred, about Bruce and all the pain he must have caused them doesn’t still bring tears to his eyes.
It was for the best. The most decent solution he could think of. That’s what he told himself. Bruce was kind enough to take him in, take care of him, give him a home, a family… anything he could have ever wanted. Be a father to him, a real father, in all the ways Willis never was. Repaying him for all his kindness by forcing him to also have a bastard baby in his house was a thought that filled him with dread. Not to mention that it would definitely put him through one hell of a time, having to deal with the public, his circle, and even he police and social services. And what if Bruce or some social worker tried to force him to get an abortion? The sheer thought of the process had him shaking, even now.
Somehow, the thought of explaining to Bruce the circumstances under which this whole thing happened and stay there, inevitably waiting to accept the consequences of his stupid mistakes, was much more frightening than becoming a single, unsupported mother at the age of sixteen.
“How did you find me?” he demands, overcoming the tightness in his chest.
Slade lifts an eyebrow. Jason barely restrains a sigh. Who’s he kidding, really. If Slade wanted to find something, he most certainly would.
“You’re pregnant.”
Not a question. A statement. Slade’s face utterly blank as he makes it.
Jason goes rigid, the pain in his belly burning him anew. It’s almost as if he relives every single second of the most frightening moment of his life: him, alone in the bathroom, glancing down at a positive pregnancy test and wondering why, just why did the universe hate him so much.
Colour flashes wildly on his cheeks, as he opens his mouth before fruitlessly closing it again.
“How—?”
It’s all he manages to utter. Slade keeps staring at him for a few moments before answering. “The pharmacist you got your drugs from. Didn’t even have to threaten him.”
Jason whispers a soft, barely audible “Oh,” before it suddenly hits him. “You’re following me?” he exclaims in a shaky voice.
“I sure am,” Slade coldly replies.
“F—fuck you, who gives you the right—"
“Is it mine?”
Stern. Serious. Looking at him and waiting for a truth he should have already known, and Jason feels a little bit like he’s drowning. “I’m not a slut,” he hoarsely snaps at him.
Slade immediately tenses. “Is that what I said?” he angrily snaps back.
It wasn’t, really, but still, the fact that he has to ask him that, that he would even assume Jason might have done something with someone else in such a short amount of time feels hurtfully offensive. And Slade knows pretty damn well that he was a virgin until… until that night.
Jason wouldn’t have even done it with Slade, if his damn heat hadn’t decided to erupt in the worst moment possible. He’d… he’d wanted to wait. He planned on waiting as long as he had to, no matter what society would think of it. Not for ‘the one’ or anything like that. He may be more hopelessly romantic than he’d like to, but even so, Jason doesn’t believe in soulmates, in the idea that there is one single perfect person for everyone and all that shit. No. He wasn’t expecting a sweet prince, a fearsome alpha knight or a crazy-beautiful, crazy-fun adventurer. He just wanted to wait for… for someone special. Someone that would make his heart lighter and bring a smile on his lips every time he looked at them. Someone that would love the whole of him, despite his flaws. Someone he could have long talks with. They’d travel the world, or just stay indoors sometimes, cooking, playing games and watching Netflix.
Most of all, Jason wanted someone he would trust. And this one might be strange to other people, but to Jason, it’s probably the biggest deal of all.
Well. It’s safe to say that all of that has gone downhill for good.
It’s not that he doesn’t find Slade attractive. On the contrary. The very first time he laid eyes on him in Bruce’s office, he lost his words, and barely held back a gasp. Ever since, he felt lost, small and awkward every time Slade happened to be around (which was fairly often, since Bruce had the brilliant idea to hire him as Head of Security in Wayne Enterprises). The sheer size of him, that piercing blue eye, the slightly crooked smirk, the deep, rough voice… his damn scent. Sharp, powerful, intimidating… alpha. Bruce had a strong scent as well, but… not like that. Bruce’s scent, at least when it came to him, was warm, comforting and steady. It was his dad’s scent. Never did weird things to him. Never made him blush, rendering him anxious to leave the room, only to retire to his bedroom so he could deal with the dampness between his legs, with Slade’s face never leaving his mind.
That was around the time when Dent broke out of jail, declaring a war against Bruce, and going as far as to plant a damn bomb in Jason’s school. An attempt on his own life, that also endangered around three hundred more innocent people -most of them children. Thankfully, nobody ended up getting hurt, but, apart from furious, Bruce was, understandably enough, completely freaked out, to the point that, before the day had ended, Jason found himself on his private jet, on his way to a safehouse on some remote location, with a bunch of damn agents that would ensure his safety, and none other than Slade as his personal bodyguard.
As it turned out, taking into consideration Jason’s love for sun and warm weather, the den of choice was an overwater bungalow on some exotic island, and well… as much as he made his distress for being treated like a spoiled rich boy known to Bruce over the phone, he couldn’t just stay frowned for the entirety of his staying there and ignore the fact that he was, more or less, in paradise.
After an entire week which he spent swimming, reading, diving and generally enjoying the peace and beauty of nature, he expected he’d start getting a bit bored, but little did he know that, as quiet and reserved as Slade was, he could also be… a whole lot of interesting (apart from his looks). Jason was purely excited to learn how to use a gun (which he proved incredibly good at) and martial arts, as well as surviving techniques in hostile environments (in their case, the jungle). As much as his body felt sore after hours of repeated training at a time, he’d rarely felt his mind in a better state. Slade was… a good trainer. An excellent conversationalist, as well.
Everything floated well until that day when, after a deep, siesta slumber, Jason woke up whining. Late afternoon. The sun already set. Sky painted in cool shades of blue. The sea breeze, the one and only slight comfort, brushing on his burning face. His cock erect, and his cunt dripping.
To his credit, Slade did try to hold back. He did, when he got into the room and found him like that. When Jason wrapped his arms around his neck, nuzzling at his scent glands and trying to kiss him, to get closer to him, pleading with him to hold him, just hold him closer, whining that he’s in pain, that please, oh, please, the rub of even those light clothes against his skin felt like the roughest sandpaper in the world, and he wanted out, out of them, closer to him.
He remembers burning, burning to his core and sobbing about it, even as he was relieved by his clothes, even as he coaxed Slade to get off his own. He remembers calming down a bit as he clung to him then, pressed over his bare chest, his head buried in one broad, warm shoulder as Slade, still holding him, dived into the sea beneath them, in an attempt to cool him down a bit. Talking to him softly, pouring water down his back.
He still wishes Slade wasn’t this damn good at it. It would make it easier to hate him now. Wishes there was a villain to blame in this, but the truth is that Slade really… really did try to hold back. But just as going into heat wasn’t Jason’s fault, well… going into a rut wasn’t Slade’s, either.
He remembers how he shuddered when Slade took his mouth in a kiss so deep that left him moaning for breath. How he protested when the alpha broke that first kiss, only to sink teeth at the junction of Jason’s shoulder and neck.
After that, things are blurry. Jason still doesn’t have much recollection of those three days that followed. He just recalls that, after the sharp pain of the first time inside him, everything felt fuzzy and cloudy. That he wanted Slade inside him, his knot blissfully filling his womb, and when he didn’t have it, or even when he woke up and for some reason Slade wasn’t beside him, it felt physically painful, causing him to cry in desperation.
Even now, it’s painful to think about it… though for entirely different reasons.
“It didn’t occur to you that I might have wanted to know that you’re carrying my child?” Slade asks sternly, eye glowing.
Jason swallows through the lump blocking his throat, eyes falling down on the floor as he lightly shakes his head. The mark of Slade’s teeth on his skin starts tingling. “I… I didn’t… I was—”
“Afraid. Of what? Of me telling your dad? Forcing you to get rid of it, against your will? Harming you, perhaps?”
Jason doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have an answer. It’s all of those, and ten thousand more that he now completely fails to recall.
“What’s your plan?”
“The plan…?”
“Your plan, kid. You keep working in that shithole until you give birth, I guess. Then what? You bring the baby -or babies- in here? For how long can you make it with no money? You’ll have to go back to work. What then? You leave them alone for nine hours straight, with the druggies next door that would sell their mother for a single dose lurking? You’re taking them to work with you? Let them hanging in the locker rooms and taking a break every half an hour to feed them, change them, bathe them in some bucket? Say that you make it happen, somehow, for three, four months. Then what? You raise them in a place like that? Do you know that one of the guys living downstairs got out of jail just six months ago, after ten years inside, convicted for owning and distributing child pornography?”
Jason instantly feels sick to the pits of his stomach. The pain in his belly suddenly hits red, to the point that it becomes very difficult to keep standing up. His knees are barely holding him, and he fails to hold back a small, yet tortured cry of pain.
Slade’s scent changes before Jason’s even raised his eyes at his face again. The waves of anger now changing into clouds of protectiveness. “What is it?” he instantly demands.
“N—Nothing,” he weakly tries against the tears blurring his vision.
Slade isn’t having this, and apparently, he’s just done at this point. Strong hands clap down against Jason’s upper arms. “It hurts?” he asks, eyeing down at the way Jason’s still holding himself.
Jason quits fighting against the fear, and allows the overwhelming feeling to claim the entirety of his existence. “All the time,” he whispers.
He doesn’t believe he’s seen Slade growing pale before. “What did the doctor say?”
“Nothing, it’s… it’s normal. I just have to get my medication, and the blood is now less than—”
“Blood?” Slade abruptly cuts him off, eye wide. “You were bleeding?”
Jason nods, hesitantly. “It’s… he said it’s normal…”
“Normal?” Slade growls. “Constant abdominal pain and bleeding in the fourth month of pregnancy is supposed to be ‘normal’?”
Jason tries to breathe. Tries not to panic as Slade’s scent turns sour in anger (even though he knows it’s not directed to him this time), as the pain now spreads to the small of his back, and somehow, his shoulder as well.
It’s at this moment he realizes he’s being lightly pulled forward, and he can now shamelessly hide in Slade’s chest. He thinks he hears him murmuring something like “stupid kid”, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t give a dime.
He just wants to be with Slade on the beach, under the sun, by the sea.
He’s only vaguely aware he’s losing consciousness before darkness surrounds him for good.
He slips in and out of it.
Slade’s carrying him as if he weights nothing (and good God, it’s so comfortable, so comforting to be so close to him again). Then he’s in a car. Then in a big, white space, various voices coming from every direction, and he wants to cry, until he catches Slade’s scent again, and calms down.
The next time he comes to, everything’s actually more coherent, and even though he feels more exhausted than ever before in his life, the pain has actually retreated, having become tolerable by this point.
He’s in a spacious, clean room. Treatment room, he realizes, and he’s in a hospital robe under the thin blanket. Slade stands above him, one hand buried in his hair, and Jason leans into it. Beside him, a doctor, a beautiful lady in a white robe, dark chocolate skin and warm brown eyes, hair back in a ponytail. She speaks to him gently. Asks him if he can understand her. Explains to him that he needs to go into surgery -immediately. That the pregnancy is ectopic. Jason has no idea what that means, which must be showing in his face, because she then proceeds to briefly analyze the situation. He doesn’t get every single detail, but he does get that it’s already on a late stage, that it’s very dangerous, and that they’ll have to terminate the pregnancy.
Tears come in his eyes, and this time, Jason doesn’t have the strength to take a hold of himself. He just looks up at Slade, feeling two small streams rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispers in a small, broken voice.
Slade immediately tenses, fingers still carding through his hair. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”
Slade knows him. He knows that this is the most calming thing he could have ever said to him. Knowing he’s not being blamed for it has Jason immediately relaxing, but the doctor (who, frankly, doesn’t seem to like Slade very much), apparently feels this is far from enough. “Sweetheart, this is none of your fault,” she says gently, while lightly squeezing his hand. “You couldn’t have possibly done anything to cause this. It just… unfortunately, sometimes, it happens. And it could happen to literally anyone.”
She really seems to be a genuinely nice person, and her scent is sweet and comforting (an omega like himself, Jason realizes). He gives a small nod and utters a quiet “okay”, before turning towards Slade once more.
A man enters the room –anesthesiologist. He exchanges a few words with the doctor and Slade before he turns to him with a warm, calming smile, and promises him that everything is going to be alright.
It’s hard to believe. Jason doesn’t think he’s going to be ‘alright’ ever again.
The lady tells him something else, but he’s not listening to her anymore. He’s watching the man injecting something into the IV bag he just now realizes is connected to his arm.
“Don’t leave,” he pleads with Slade in the quietest, shakiest voice.
Slade leans over him and brushes lips against his forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Jason believes him, because he has to, and surrenders to the void.