Chapter Text
“You know, you’re actually supposed to drink that. Not stare at it until it goes flat.”
Jason looked up from his flute of champagne, a smirk tugging at his lips. Before Lex had spoken, his scent had already settled some of his irritation. Like calling to like, Alfred liked to say. Or omega stuff, in Lex’s preferred verbiage.
He’d missed Lex, even though it had been less than a half hour since they’d parted at the museum’s entrance. Lex had excused himself with a euphemism Jason prayed meant bathroom, and --
He’d been left alone, at the mercy of any passing alpha with a nose for omegas. A stress test, undoubtedly by Lex’s design, but not one he could hold against his fellow omega. Sixteen to twenty single alphas in a ballroom. A space where betas and omegas were sparse, and the air was a wall of mixed, smothering scents.
Eight alphas had already made a pass at him, with varying levels of deference and the same success rate across the board. The direct eye contact would have enraged his past alpha self; as an omega, it made him feel small. He -- the person -- was easily dismissed in lieu of raking their eyes down his body. And then, when the muscles and height didn’t satisfy, back up to his lips and eyes, finding more familiar omega features there.
The champagne flute was already lukewarm against his fingers. It was far less convincing as an alpha deterrent the longer he refused to drink from it. And, to Lex’s point, it was already half-flat.
“It,” Jason took a breath, looking in either direction before continuing, “stinks.”
Lex let out a sympathetic sigh. “Thumb on the rim?”
“He pinched it with three fingers, actually.” Jason lifted the flute, squinting at the smudged fingerprints near the rim. “Just picked it off the tray like that and handed it to me.”
“Oof.”
That alpha, like many others in the ballroom, knew exactly what they were doing. A smudge of pheromones against the rim meant he would be carrying their scent around with him all night. And if he drank it --
Jason discarded his flute on a passing tray, giving the beta holding it a grateful nod. He’d handed off no less than three flutes in the last twenty minutes, all of them stinking of alpha pheromones and sweaty, musky hands. The beta -- barely older than Jason himself -- had been the only waiter bold enough to enter his vicinity.
The handoff was a good opportunity to examine Lex. The other omega had denied any discomfort, but the glassy, far-off look he was currently wearing said that was bullshit.
Despite the crisp, navy suit tailored ever so loosely at the waist and freshly-washed, shiny hair, Lex looked --
Like shit, Jason repeated in his mind, trying not to wrinkle his nose. It was extremely disconcerting to scent a packmate who was so clearly suffering. If it put him ill at ease, he could guess why the other alphas were suddenly giving him a wide berth.
The sweet scent of Lex’s pregnancy -- cherries, sugar, warming -- was mixed with the sour scent of illness, giving his overall scent a strange, fermented note. Pack and Not-Pack alike would be wary or concerned, if they actually had their noses on for the evening instead of burying it under artificial alpha pheromone enhancers.
Even if Jason hadn’t progressed in scent-reading, one look at Lex would have given it all away. He was pale under his typical pallor, sweaty at the temples, and looking as far away from the globe lights ringing the gallery entrance as possible without turning his back on the whole event.
The beta waiter returned, a fresh -- untouched -- flute perched on his tray. Jason slipped a twenty onto the tray, taking the clean glass with a grateful nod. The unintentional rumble in his throat made the beta pause, pupils dilating as he processed the wordless praise.
Oh, Jason thought. It was the first genuine sign of instinct he’d seen all night, and it was refreshing.
The moment broke, and the beta hurried away, head down as he pushed through the crowd. Jason pinched the champagne flute between his fingers, considering his next words carefully.
“Feeling okay?”
Lex blinked, refocusing on Jason’s face. “Hm? Fine. I’m not the one with the sensitive nose.”
“You absolutely are the one with the sensitive nose.”
Lex clicked his tongue. He cast a longing glance at the flute in Jason’s hands. “Instincts can be useful.”
“I know you just puked in the bathroom.”
The two of them stared at each other, scents warming in tandem. Jason was holding back a petty smile. Lex’s lips were twitching, like he was aching to bare his teeth in a snarl, but was too amused to pull it off.
“Any luck with the long line of suitors?”
Jason rolled his eyes, ducking his head so no one saw him. “So that’s why we’re here. You should have said.”
He braced for the smack he already knew was coming. To his surprise, Lex cuffed him behind the head instead, dislodging a few strands of the hair he’d personally gelled earlier that evening.
“Pup.”
Jason wrinkled his nose. “Not a pup.”
“Hence,” Lex gestured at the ballroom behind him, “the suitors. This is a Friday fish fry for alphas, and you’re the baked cod and fried perch special. Or you would be, if you actually talked to a few of them.”
“I’m confused. Are you trying to set me up to get mated, married, or knotted?”
Smack. The meager strength of Lex’s slap only seemed to amuse his instincts even more. He’d never say it to Lex’s face, but it made him feel like a pup again. Just for a moment.
This was Pack. This was Lex, and there wasn’t a word for him that would ever fit. A strange thread of something that felt like Bruce and packpackpack and a little bit like Alfred’s crisp daybreak scent connected them even in his absence. No one else mattered. He could feel Lex’s amusement like it was his own, a nausea-tinged emotion that lodged somewhere under his throat. Pack.
Lex’s eyes glazed over, as if he, too, was falling deeper into instinct. The hand that lifted to his stomach, like it always did, was snatched away before it could make contact. Where Bruce had steadied himself with his pregnancy, Lex avoided it at all costs. He avoided touch there too.
Jason had never missed the presence of an alpha so acutely until now. A steady, calm alpha who had zero interest in him, his lips, or his eyes. A man who, by all outward appearances, worshipped the ground Lex walked on. Even if Lex kept taking potshots at him with his glossy wingtips and barbed endearments.
Speaking of.
“When is Dan getting here?”
Lex’s head snapped around. The hand hovering over his stomach dropped abruptly to his side, clenching into a fist.
“Whenever. I’m not keeping tabs on him.” Lex’s eyes narrowed as a particularly offensive alpha scent drifted by both of them. “He doesn’t have read receipts on his phone. Because it’s a flip phone from the Paleozoic era also known as 2005.”
Jason politely didn’t mention the way Lex’s scent had begun to sharpen with irritation, turning the sickly fermented notes into something unpleasantly acidic. Bitter, unripe cherries with a note Jason could only catalogue as a fundamental dissatisfaction.
Any attempts during their scent training to ask Lex about that note in particular had resulted in an immediate change in subject -- one that often shifted to his own lack of progress with non-Pack alpha scents.
Who cares if I react or not, Jason griped, scanning the room for Lex’s sake, since his back was still turned. If they’re not Pack, they don’t matter to me. And if they mattered, I’d feel it.
Clark, Dan, and Alfred had finally stopped walking on eggshells around him. Bruce and Lex -- frustratingly -- had kept the kid gloves on, like they were waiting for the delayed effects of Joker’s heat accelerator and torture to hit him out of nowhere and knock him on his ass.
His lack of a reaction to alpha scents and Joker’s bullshit had nothing to do with each other. In his mind, the only lingering effect from his time in chains was a well-founded suspicion of unmated alphas. And a fierce, dizzying need to protect Bruce, no matter the foe or obstacle.
“Jay.”
Jason looked up, startled by Lex’s usage of the nickname. His wariness dissipated all at once when he saw the amused glint in Lex’s eyes.
“I thought I was a pup.”
“You’re both,” Lex said. He was standing on his tiptoes a little, trying to make up for the nine inch difference between their heights and regain the high ground of the conversation. “Come here. Tell Clark you don’t need a whole container of gel next time.”
Jason bent over, letting Lex fuss with his hair. The crunchy bits of gel were broken up gently, fluffing them into something more natural. The barest hints of Clark’s scent -- AlphaAlphaAlpha -- released into the air around them.
“There,” Lex said, triumphant. Jason didn’t miss the way his fingers dragged down his neck, leaving a bit of his own scent behind. “Now you don’t look like an old mafia don.”
Jason straightened back up, feeling the soft waves brush his forehead and cheekbones. His hair had never grown so fast in his life, and its management was still a part of omega life he was adjusting to. Thick, glossy waves that made him understand why Lex wore his hair to his chin and Bruce’s slicked-back style barely kept his hair away from the face.
“Presentable?”
Lex raised his eyebrows, clearly not appreciating Jason’s rendition of Bruce’s public-facing smile. “Something like that.”
“Something like that?” Jason mocked.
“You look like him.” Lex tilted his head in the approximate direction of Wayne Manor. “I’ve heard that adopted pups often present like their carriers. I didn’t think the theory held water before…”
He gestured, encompassing everything Pack and the events of the last year. As he did so, a pit opened up in Jason’s stomach.
“Are you saying I presented omega because Bruce is omega?”
Despite his obvious illness, Lex’s eyes were still viciously sharp. His mind was twice that. “No. Get that idea out of your head before it starts to stick. You look like Bruce because you’re his. Even if you were an alpha or beta, you’d still look like him. Presenting omega just made it even more obvious.”
Oh, Jason thought in the privacy of his own mind. A warm, uncertain feeling began to pool in his gut, something that almost felt like pride. “You think I look like Bruce?”
“Babydoll,” Lex said, droll. His eyes flicked up to Jason’s face, unamused. “You somehow managed to come out looking just like Bruce. Who kinda looks like Clark. Who looks like Bruce. Who looks like you--”
“Did you?”
Lex cut off abruptly. He knew exactly what Jason was getting at, but held out anyway. “Did I what?”
“Look like your carrier. Or your sire.” Jason gestured vaguely at Lex’s person. “When you presented, I mean.”
If Lex could have paled any further, Jason was sure he would have. A new note entered his scent, one he recognized from Bruce’s old linens. The ones from the lakehouse that still smelled like grief and devastation.
“My carrier died in labor.” Lex’s words were uncharacteristically stiff. “Because my hurensohn of a father decided business was more important than his mate. But -- yes. By all accounts, she looked like me.”
“Beautiful,” Jason added on, because it was the truth. Even pale and ill, Lex was still eye-catching. He’d noticed more eyes than he could count just in his brief scans of the room.
“Something like that.” Lex’s body language abruptly shifted from pissed off to something more welcoming. “See that pack of betas over there?”
Jason followed his gaze to a throng of women near one of the columns. “Yeah?”
“Let me introduce you to a few people. Some busybodies who need to see the Wayne Pack’s shining jewel of an heir.” Lex’s hand landed on his bicep, squeezing. “Layla! Layla, darling, over here.”
A beautiful beta stepped away from the group, her perfectly-shaped eyebrows gently rising up her forehead. When she saw Lex, her expression brightened with recognition. Her dress -- thick and beaded -- was hiked to just under the knees as she made way over.
Jason instantly clocked Lex’s plan, but there was nothing he could do. The hand around his bicep was like a vise.
“I don’t want to talk to her nephew,” Jason hissed out of the corner of his mouth, “Do you know what I saw him doing earlier?”
Lex continued to wave at Layla. “Rubbing his knot through his pants while looking at you?”
“No. No.” Jason backpedaled. “He was putting alpha pheromones on. A whole vial of them. Like he doesn’t already stink.”
“You know,” Lex said, “When you find the right alpha, they don’t stink. At all.”
“Bullshit.”
“No bullshit.” Lex gave him a sidelong glance. “It’ll be the best stink of your life. Trust me.”
Even the thought of Dan’s scent seemed to perk Lex up slightly, so Jason let him have the final word this time. Layla reached them a few seconds later, dropping her hem back down to the floor and extending her hand.
“Lex, darling.”
Lex’s smirk dialled up to a dazzling smile. He took the beta’s hand, drawing her forward. “Layla, darling. May I introduce…”
“The new Wayne omega,” Layla cut in, reaching for Jason with both hands. “Aren’t you a sight. Lex, where have you been hiding him?”
Jason’s hands were grasped, lifted up and down, and then released. It felt like a watered down version of the traditional alpha-omega greeting. Layla’s soft, beta scent made it somewhat bearable.
“With Bruce, of course. Who is a tad overprotective these days, as I’m sure you know.” Lex tilted his head to the side, flashing his neck. “Jason is here on behalf of the Wayne family.”
“And you?” Layla inquired.
“For the Pack, of course. You know how it goes.”
At the mention of Pack, Layla’s smile became tighter. Politer. She was too experienced to let the change into her scent, but Jason could feel it -- the way the word made her tense. The way the thought of Pack created unease. Suspicion.
The weak handshake suddenly made a lot more sense.
“Of course.” Layla turned back to Jason, offering one elegant, thin hand. “It was lovely meeting you. Hopefully your father will grace us with his presence soon, hm? When he was your age, he was quite the social butterfly at these sorts of events.”
“Carrier,” Lex tacked on. Layla stiffened again.
“Carrier. Of course. Lex -- always lovely seeing you.”
Jason watched as she toddled away on too-high heels, lifting her hem out of reach of her heels To his right, Lex let out a sharp, irritated breath.
A shiver went down Jason’s spine, instinct responding to instinct. Lex wasn’t just unhappy -- Layla had pissed him off. No small feat, considering how even-keeled Lex tended to be even in the most volatile of public events.
The scent of cigarettes and burnt pine filled Jason’s nostrils before he could ask Lex what was wrong. Every single cell in his body relaxed at once, instinct surging to the forefront of his mind in a relieved wave.
If Lex’s scent had relaxed and reassured him, Dan’s scent was like Clark’s -- it made everything beyond them meaningless. Like the ballroom had narrowed down to just their Pack and their scents. It enveloped the two of them, putting another invisible barrier between them and the other guests.
Dan was dressed strictly to Lex’s requirements, wearing one of Bruce’s midnight black suits with a surprising amount of ease. The suit had been let out slightly in the waist, accommodating the additional muscle there, and brought in at the hips to accommodate an alpha’s narrower pelvis. His tie was tied and pinned to his shirt with a crispness that felt like Alfred, through and through.
Standing tall in a sea of outsiders, he was every inch the powerful, rich alpha he needed to be for the night. The cigarette smoke was the only exception. That was Dan, through and through, mixing into his natural scent until the two were almost indistinguishable.
Jason’s head tilted to the side. He flashed his neck at Dan without thinking, a soft recognition blooming in his instincts that meant the alpha was just as pleased to see them as Jason was.
“Hey. Nice of you to finally join us.”
If Lex won’t say it, I will.
Dan gave him a much more genuine smile, holding his hand out to scent him. Jason jerked his chin over at Lex, pressing his lips together in an implicit rejection.
Him first.
The direction was smoothly incorporated. Dan swapped his make sure the pup’s okay objective for a charming smile and a deliberate wave of alpha scent in Lex’s direction.
“Hey, baby.”
Lex’s scowl was impressive. He twisted away from Dan, stubborn from his pursed lips to his irritated scent.
“Baby,” Dan tried again. Lex’s arms crossed against his chest.
Jesus, Jason thought. If it wasn’t for the genuine note of distress in Lex’s scent, he would have smacked the other omega for playing coy. The shalom in the home, as Lex called it, was oddly disrupted. They weren’t fighting -- Lex tended to argue head-on and dirty -- but something was different.
As he puzzled over that realization, Dan stepped closer to Lex, ignoring the backoffbackoff in his scent and posture. He slipped his arms around Lex’s waist from behind, tugging the omega back against his chest. When he buried his nose in Lex’s neck -- just under Bruce’s Pack bite -- Lex gave in all at once, eyes closing in utter relief as he sank back against his alpha.
Just say you miss him next time, Jason thought, fond despite his own irritation. The two of them were mates in all but name, but Lex was independent to a fault. That final line hadn’t been crossed yet, despite how at peace he looked with Dan’s incisors gently set against the side of his neck.
“There are people watching,” Lex murmured. His bitter-cherries scent had sweetened considerably, losing the sour, fermented notes from before.
Dan let out a pleased purr Jason could feel in his own chest a good two feet away. The alpha pulled back just enough to lift his teeth from Lex’s pulse point.
“Anyone important?”
Lex’s eyes began to flutter. He looked exhausted, like Dan’s touch had reminded him, suddenly, of the fatigue he’d been ignoring all evening. If Jason listened closely, he could hear a hitching, raw purr emanating from Lex’s throat. Stubbornly swallowed, but impossible to suppress entirely.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Dan said. He winked at Jason over Lex’s shoulder. “How’s it going?”
Jason held up his champagne flute. “This is the only glass I’ve had all evening that doesn’t have alpha pheromones splattered all over it.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Language,” Lex grunted, his eyes now fully closed. Jason noted the broken capillaries in the thin, almost translucent skin of his eyelids with a wince. Lex’s dark undereyes had been carefully camouflaged with concealer before they’d arrived, but his eyelids were an obvious tell. Even for an omega already so naturally pale.
“I’m failing at talking to new alphas,” Jason summarized, ignoring Lex’s snort. “Lex is trying to pimp me out to the closest beta mother.”
Dan glanced around the room, brow furrowing. “Nothing feels safe?”
“I feel perfectly safe,” Jason said, wrinkling his nose. At Dan’s look, he relented. “I just don’t like any of them. They’re so…”
“Alpha?”
“Yeah. It’s just,” Jason waved a hand through the air, trying to summarize alpha-ness to an alpha. “Too much. All at once. And everyone’s wearing alpha scent enhancers for some reason.”
Dan, who had no reason to ever wear a scent enhancer, nodded like he understood. “There’s an alpha over by the catering staging you might want to try. Looks like he’s keeping his scent to himself.”
Jason glanced at the service hallway where he’d seen the beta waiter disappear earlier. A man stood just shy of the marble column that separated the hallway from the main ballroom, watching the other guests just like Dan was.
He was handsome, from what Jason could make out from afar. His hair -- a deeper, redder color than Lex’s -- was loosely styled, his bangs falling to effortlessly frame his cheekbones. The rest of his hair just barely grazed his nape, framing a strong jaw and cheekbones that almost gave him an omega-like appearance.
Jason raised his eyebrows. He didn’t look much like an alpha at all. Even if he hadn’t seen the man’s face, the stance was all wrong -- almost submissive -- and the room seemed devoid of his scent. Beyond that, alphas rarely observed from afar. Dan was a hunter at his core -- and therefore weird about staring -- and Clark could see everything anytime he wanted. But other alphas didn’t have the patience, or the inclination, to wait that long.
When he’d been an alpha, staring down a room achieved compliance and submission with just the lightest application of scent and posturing. But this man was different; he wasn’t making eye contact with anyone. On purpose.
“He doesn’t really look like an alpha,” Jason said, only for Dan to give him an odd look. “What?”
“Definitely an alpha.” Dan pulled Lex a little closer to his chest. “And a strong one. I can feel it.”
Jason politely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Feel it, sure. “No offense, but I can’t even smell him.”
“Don’t need to smell him. I can feel it,” Dan said, like that explained anything at all. “Soon as I got here, actually.”
“You felt it,” Jason repeated.
“Most alphas walk into a room and look around for competition. Who’s bigger, stronger, pregnant, happily mated…all of it. The stronger you are, the easier it is to sense your competition.” Dan jerked his chin in the man’s direction. “That kid’s strong. And he’s pulling back his scent as much as he can.”
Jason chalked that all up to weird alpha shit, considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “At least he’s polite about scent etiquette?”
“Sure,” Dan said. His eyes crinkled at the corners, like he was trying to hide a smile. “Why don’t you go talk to him?”
“Don’t tease the pup,” Lex said, blindly patting at Dan’s cheek. After a good three minutes of mainlining Dan’s scent directly from the source, he sounded drunk. “He needs a -- good alpha. Safe.”
Jason passed his champagne flute to Dan, who reluctantly unwrapped one arm from Lex to take it. “If I have to talk to someone here, I’m going for the alpha who doesn’t smell like shit. If he even is an alpha.”
Lex cracked one eye open, anxiety leaking into his scent. “You’re going near the second-strongest alpha in the room?”
Dan chuckled, nuzzling Lex. “Thanks, baby.”
“Yeah, I am,” Jason said, his mind made up. “I’m proving I can do this. I can’t spend more than thirty seconds talking to these fuckheads--”
“Valid,” Lex cut in.
“--so I’m doing a full court press,” Jason continued. “And then we’re going home. Capiche?”
It was hilarious to watch Lex’s expression screw up at being subjected to his own game. Jason hummed under his breath, waiting for the reply.
“...capiche.”
Jason looked back up at Dan, almost like he was asking permission. The alpha gave him a short nod over Lex’s head. In lieu of Clark’s presence -- which Jason knew he could have in less than a second if he said the alpha’s name out loud -- it was as close to Pack Alpha approval he was going to get for doing something risky.
Fuck it.
Jason crossed the room at a leisurely pace, pausing to grab two champagne flutes from the beta waiter he’d almost befriended. The spark of encouragement in the beta’s eyes made him realize how transparent he was being.
“I -- Thanks.”
The beta blinked, then smiled. “Of course, sir.”
“If I throw my champagne in this alpha’s face, any chance you can bring me a new glass right away?” Jason joked. He gestured with one of the flutes at the alpha. “He’s over there in the corner.”
The spark of encouragement became something more like excitement. The beta inclined his head, reminding him, suddenly, of Alfred. “Of course, sir.”
“You’re the best.”
With champagne in hand, Jason began to make his way over to the alpha, using a winding route so he didn’t give the game away to Mr. Observation-Is-My-Passion too soon. Frustratingly, no matter which way he caught the light breeze from the french doors, he couldn’t pick up a scent. Not even a fraction of one.
Proceed cautiously, the Bruce in his mind whispered. A lack of scent can indicate danger.
Duh.
Once he was through the bulk of the crowd, Jason approached the alpha directly, holding up the flutes as a peace offering. From the wary look in the alpha’s eyes, he’d noticed Jason long before he’d gotten close. Possibly even before he’d grabbed the champagne.
Smart alpha, Jason thought on reflex, hearing Lex’s voice in his head. No wonder Dan liked him.
Then came the awkward silence he’d been trying -- hoping -- to avoid.
“Hi,” Jason said, as enthusiastically as he could with half the room’s scents still lodged up his nose. “My Pack and I can’t agree on if you’re an alpha or not. Want to help us settle the argument? This is for you, by the way.”
The alpha stared at the proffered champagne, saying nothing in return. His eyes were a brilliant blue, diluted by a thin layer of gold that ringed his pupils. Green, in some lights, and blue in others. Jason had a feeling that any alpha red, if unearthed, would turn a molten gold in the right lighting.
Pretty, interesting, sharp eyes. Jason held his breath as they shifted up to his face, feeling the alpha’s attention like a physical presence.
Silence stretched between them, awkward, yet impossible to break. Their eyes locked, and it almost felt like a challenge. But there were no alpha instincts in his body anymore; reaching for them, all Jason could feel was their absence. Instead of rising to the challenge, he fell into it.
Fucking omega bullshit.
“Look,” Jason said, yanking back the flute. His heart was beating faster than normal at the implicit rejection. “If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to. I’m just trying to make conversation. It’s a fresh glass -- you don’t have to worry about me spiking it or anything.”
The bad joke got no reaction from the alpha. Jason sighed -- internally and externally -- and turned back to the ballroom, preparing to make the journey back to his Pack.
The flute was gently plucked from his hands, completely bypassing his instincts. Jason turned on his heel, trying to hide his surprise.
After a moment of examining the flute -- maybe the alpha wouldn’t take his word for it -- sharp eyes again lifted to his face, They were greener than they’d been before.
“Hi.”
It took Jason a moment to remember how to respond. “Hi. I’m. Uh. I’m Jason.”
“...Roy.”
They both sipped from their glasses, trying to buy time. As the alpha -- Roy -- relaxed slightly, Jason realized they were almost the same height, give or take a few inches in Roy’s favor. With a twinge of envy, he noted the broad expanse of Roy’s shoulders and chest. Even for an alpha, his arms were large.
Even as an omega, Jason still carried most of his pre-presentation muscle and weight. He was big. But Roy was built, and -- for some reason -- trying to hide it.
When Dan had pointed him out earlier, Roy had been leaning forward, concealing the majority of his height and build. Outside of a disguise, there were only a few reasons to slouch like that in public, and very few of them indicated anything good.
“So,” Jason said, going for direct instead of dancing around the bullshit. “Are you?”
Surprise rippled across Roy’s expression. He stood up a little straighter, as if subconsciously responding to the question. “What?”
“Are you actually an alpha?”
Roy’s lips pressed into a flat, unhappy line, but he didn’t drop the eye contact. “Unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately?” Jason asked, surprised. At Roy’s grimace, he pushed on. “When I was an alpha, it was the coolest shit ever.”
Even Roy’s huff was sharp. “You were an alpha?”
“Briefly,” Jason said, blasé. “I got better. Or worse, depending on who you ask.”
It was a strange contrast, feeling Roy’s eyes raking over his body, assessing him even as their stilted conversation became more awkward and lopsided. Sharp eyes, skimming vulnerable spots -- his unmarked mating gland, the base of his throat, and his belly -- with an intensity that made him shiver.
“Well,” Jason said, covering his stomach with one arm. He glanced down at his flute, fumbling for something to say. “This was fun. Thanks for the confirmation, I guess.”
“You have a pack?”
The question snapped Jason’s head back up. He couldn’t decide what the note in Roy’s voice was, but settled on suspicious.
Just like everyone else at this stupid fucking event, Jason tacked on mentally, grumbling. You think they’d realize they’re acting out a weak-ass version of pack dynamics here, but no. They all flinch away from it like it’s a dirty word. Lex was right.
“I do. And it’s probably best if I get back to them and,” Jason glanced at the flute in Roy’s hand, untouched save for their shared sip. “...let you get back to…whatever you’re doing. Yeah.”
Smooth. Real smooth, Todd.
Jason turned away, feeling strangely disappointed. As he did so, a new scent blanketed his immediate vicinity, replacing the scentless air he’d sought out.
He felt Roy tense behind him and knew, without needing to look up, that this was about to go horribly, horribly wrong.
“Hey. You’re back. What was your name again?”
Jason lifted his head, keeping his expression neutral. The alpha from before -- Michael -- was waiting in front of him. He, like Jason, had already dismissed Roy as a threat. Which meant either Roy’s scent was so pulled back, only Dan’s freak nose could identify it, or Roy wasn’t much of an alpha at all.
Even this close, Jason still couldn’t confidently say one or the other. Which was unsettling for a variety of reasons.
“Jason,” he said, trying to smile. It came out more like a grimace. “My name is Jason.”
“Jason, right,” Michael said. He pushed more scent in his direction, like he was trying to carpetbomb him with pheromones.
Jason did him the favor of not immediately covering his mouth and coughing, but it was a close thing. In return, Michael’s eyes skimmed his throat, far less careful than Roy’s assessment had been.
“Can I get you a new glass of champagne?” he asked, nodding at Jason’s glass. “It doesn’t look like you’re really enjoying that one.”
Or the person you’re speaking to, Jason translated. For some reason, that caused Jason’s irritation to grow, like the alpha had just fanned it on purpose.
“I’m fine, actually.”
“Really?” Michael pressed. His eyes slid to Roy, then back to his throat. “Maybe I can buy you a drink at the bar instead. You like sweet, right?”
Jason’s incisors began to ache, like the conversation was about to devolve into something far worse. He took a deep breath, trying to blow the instinct away. Ripping out a random alpha’s throat would only feed into the negative pack rumors. And, if TMZ had their way, somehow the harem rumors too.
It was Bruce’s name going up on the museum gallery’s entrance. Which was, by proxy, Jason’s name too. And bloody dominance fights were a bad look on day one of the gallery’s opening. Especially when he was there to represent their Pack, and not just himself.
“Sweet?” Jason asked, playing dumb. “Is that a drink name?”
“You like Shirley Temples?” Michael asked, ignoring Jason’s question. “Dirty Shirlies? Strawberry margaritas? Maybe some chardonnay?”
“I like whiskey,” Jason said, staring the alpha dead in the eye until he had no choice but to meet his challenge. “Neat. Room temperature. Preferably a little smoky, to be perfectly honest. But I suppose the charred oak barrels sometimes make the bottles turn out a little sweet, yeah.”
As Michael’s expression tightened, Jason risked a glance back in Lex and Dan’s direction. Lex was watching Michael with interest, like he was itching for Jason to finally throw a punch, but Dan was watching Roy. He wasn’t concerned -- Jason would have felt that -- but refusing to take his eyes off the alpha nonetheless.
“You know, just because your dad’s name is on the building doesn’t mean you get to disrespect me,” Michael said, his voice half-growl, half whisper. A faint flush was creeping up his neck. “You want to act hard to get, fine. Don’t come crying to me when that pussy’s all shriveled up. If it isn’t already.”
Jason rocked back on his heels, grinning. This he understood. Instigating a fight wasn’t an alpha, beta, or omega trait. It was a skill, and one he’d honed for years.
“Oooh. Someone’s got their knot in a twist.” Jason mock-pouted. “If you don’t go to the hospital soon to get it untangled, it might fall off. You have, what, a few hours? What time is it?”
To his surprise, Roy checked his watch. “It’s 8:30 PM.”
“8:30 PM,” Jason repeated, raising his eyebrows at Michael. “I’d get skadoodling if I were you. The closest walk-in alpha clinic closes at 10:00.”
Michael looked seconds away -- if that -- from baring his fangs and going for his throat. “Cunt.”
“And it’s carrier, thank you very much,” Jason added, unable to help himself. “Not sure what dads you’ve been hanging out with, but the ones I know don’t tend to have…what was your word? Cunts.”
Michael’s foot shifted forward, perfectly telegraphing the swing he was about to take. He puffed out his chest, alpha scent lashing out like a whip. “You little--”
“Stop.”
Jason dropped his glass. The flute shattered into a thousand tiny pieces against the marble, splattering champagne across his shoes, but he barely noticed.
The sound of Roy’s alpha command -- so clearly alpha, Jason had been utterly mistaken -- echoed through the room, even though he’d barely raised his voice. It blanked out every conscious thought in Jason’s mind, like Clark’s scent sometimes did when he finally let it go, all at once.
Except Roy hadn’t let much go at all -- just a fraction of a fraction. One single word.
His body responded instantly, in waves. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end; he tensed from head to toe, muscles contracting in response to the sudden burst of adrenaline in his bloodstream. Instinct -- the kind he’d only experienced in his least coherent moments -- attuned him to the alpha, processing what Jason’s mind was too startled to understand.
The feeling of slick gushing down his thighs was incomprehensible. Muscles he hadn’t used since his heats -- presentation and shock heats -- began to tighten in his lower stomach. A pulse of something so pleasurable, it reminded him of Lex’s toy, left him breathless and flushed. Like instinct had sunk down from his heated cheeks to his lower body, bottoming out into something that was almost a full-fledged, untouched orgasm.
It was a mistake to look at Roy, but he couldn’t help himself. His body couldn’t help itself. Every cell in his being needed to look at Roy, and even if Jason could look away -- if he fought hard, he might actually succeed -- he didn’t want to.
The slump of Roy’s shoulders had disappeared. Instead, they pulled back, exposing his broad chest in a simple alpha challenge. His eyes were a burning, fiery gold, darting between Michael’s throat and Jason like he couldn’t decide who to focus on.
His nostrils flared, scenting -- something Jason couldn’t bear to think about. Surprise, no doubt. Alpha pheromones. Jason’s scent, maybe, and then, on its heels -- fresh slick. His slick.
It felt like everyone in the ballroom was staring at them. They probably were. The proximity of a furious alpha and a pending alpha challenge were the only things that prevented Jason from burying his face in his hands and slinking away in shame.
How’s that for a reaction? the voice in his head asked. The mental flurry of curses Jason let out in response would have impressed even Lex, the reigning king of inappropriate wordplay.
Michael stepped forward, hands clenched into fists at his sides. As he did so, Roy stepped in front of Jason, herding him to the safety of the marble column at their backs. Instead of feeling pushed around, Jason felt --
Safe. Not just because his Pack was in the room, or because he knew he could handle an alpha like Michael in his sleep. Because, between the column and Roy’s back, it simply was. Safe.
As he tried to gather his thoughts, Michael took another step forward, bowing back so far, it looked painful. His pupils were fully dilated, swallowing up the thin ring of alpha red around his irises. With his incisors on display, it was all but an acceptance of Roy’s non-challenge.
“Go ahead and talk to me like that again,” Michael threatened, breathing through his mouth. “See what I fucking do, you pathetic excuse for a knot. I’ll fuck you up. You’ll never be allowed back in here.”
“Where is it?”
Michael reared back in confusion. “What?”
“Where is your name on the wall?” Roy was so calm, it was almost painful.
“What?”
Roy pointed. Jason followed his finger to a large plaque on the far wall. The one that was embellished with the word Queen at the very top of the donor list.
The name was familiar, but Jason couldn’t immediately place it. Lex would know. Or Bruce. Between the two of them, they knew everyone with influence on the east coast, Gliterrati or otherwise.
“You’re going to hide behind daddy’s money too?” Michael scoffed, as if offended. “Sure, the omega wants to cower behind Wayne -- that’s what they do. But you? An alpha?”
Roy’s hand dropped back to his side. HIs chest expanded with a slow, carefully measured breath. Six counts in, six counts out. Six-counts Jason instantly recognized from Bruce’s training.
“I’m letting you know that once I beat your ass and we get hauled out of here for fighting…” Roy’s voice lowered to something just above a growl. “It doesn’t matter whose fucking name is up on the wall. Does it?”
Jason could practically feel Roy’s confidence, and it was wildly out of place compared to his earlier awkwardness. A fresh wave of slick trailed down his thigh and he winced, trying to back up toward the column without drawing any attention to himself.
Outside of heat, it was an overwhelming feeling: warmth and wetness, belied by the almost-painful cramping deep in his lower stomach. And it wasn’t going away. If anything, it was getting worse.
Jason looked up just in time to see Michael surge forward, using the same stance he’d prepared earlier. Despite how telegraphed the hit was, it still came fast. Fast and just hard enough to make Jason’s sudden faith in Roy falter for a second.
Roy ducked the punch faster than humanly possible, surging past Michael’s guard. Complex footwork took him behind the alpha’s back in a blur. Without warning, he grabbed Michael’s nape, wrenching him backward by the neck
One powerful sweep of his legs later, and Michael was facedown on the marble, gushing blood from his visibly broken nose. One of Roy’s knees was lodged in the small of his back, pinning him to the floor and foiling any attempts to buck him off. It forced him into a submissive pose, clearly displaying his victory even if Michael refused to submit.
Alpha exhilaration lashed across the room, undeniable evidence of a successful challenge. Roy’s eyes were closed; his breaths began to slow into six-counts again, like he was trying to pull it all back inside of him.
When the scent reached him, Jason doubled over against the column, trying to ride the heightened intensity of the cramping in his lower stomach. He was, suddenly, impossibly, close to orgasm again. Joker’s heat accelerator had only caused him pain, and his presentation heat had been more painful than pleasurable, even with Lex’s toy. It hadn’t been like this at all.
He must have made a noise, some sort of choked gasp, because Roy’s eyes snapped open, picking him out of the crowd instantly. Just as they were about to make eye contact, Jason pushed off the column, stumbling back to Lex and Dan on unsteady feet.
The scent that blew past him was already beginning to weaken, like Roy had nearly succeeded in pulling it back into himself. Still, Jason could scent Roy’s guilt -- shame? -- like they were standing right next to each other. It was the kind of guilt that permeated everything it was allowed to.
By the time he reached Lex and Dan, some of his flushing had eased. His legs felt like Jell-O -- like they were going to fall out from under him at any second. The slick pooling in his boxers was entirely foreign, but there was nothing he could do about it now.
Lex gave him a worried once-over, dropping his typical sarcasm. One pale hand was pressed to his cheek, assessing the heat there; Jason winced when it made contact, which apparently meant something. Something bad, judging by sudden packfocusmine in Lex’s scent.
“Go get the car.” Lex tossed a set of keys at Dan’s face. “Ignore the valet, they’ll take too long. We’ll be by the loading bay.”
The next few minutes blurred together as the adrenaline began to leave his system. Jason stumbled along after Lex, grateful for the scent of a Pack omega to chase out the others that had invaded his nose. The traces of alpha challenge pheromones still made him nervous; a part of him always worried they’d wake something inside of him he’d left far behind.
Jason was gently pushed -- forced -- into sitting on the bay’s edge. A cigarette was pressed into his palm, followed swiftly by a lighter.
“Huh?”
“Smoke,” Lex said. He was wearing Dan’s leather coat, likely where he’d gotten the cigarettes from. “It’ll help.”
After his first trembling drag, Jason agreed. The bitter tobacco focused his mind, pulling it away from the heated mess of instinct in the back of his mind. A familiar rush hit his bloodstream, far more muted and enjoyable than adrenaline.
Lex propped a finger under his chin as he smoked, tilting him from side to side. After the examination, Lex cupped his cheek, patting once.
“You need to be back in the nest with Bruce and the pups.” Lex’s brows drew together in a delicate frown. “You’re still hot. Are you going into heat?”
“No.”
“No, you don’t think so, or no, you don’t want to?”
Jason gave Lex a deeply unamused look. He blew smoke over his shoulder, taking care to keep it away from the pregnant omega.
“Good,” Lex said, patting his cheek again. “The pup pheromones will help. They have a way of dampening certain…urges.”
“Lex.”
“I’m just a well of information, what can I say?” Lex’s faux enthusiasm was undercut by the way his eyes enviously tracked Jason’s cigarette. “Just breathe through it. It’ll only be a few minutes, even if the kid is packing that much of a punch.”
Jason smoked more than he breathed, trying to clear the scent in his nose and lungs. By the time Dan pulled up in Lex’s car, the world was blurry at the edges. When he stood up, he was utterly weightless, like it was all about to slip out from underneath him.
But blurry and weightless were far preferable than…whatever that had been. Even if his mouth would taste like ash for days.
“What did he smell like?”
Jason blinked. It took him a moment to find Lex -- walking to his left -- and to focus on him. “What?”
“What did the alpha smell like?” Lex asked. “When I’m around Dan, I can barely smell anything else. His scent -- well. It looked like you caught a lungful of the kiddo’s scent. What was it like?”
Jason thought back to the moment Roy’s hold on his instincts had dropped -- the way his fingers had loosened as an impossible wave of scent hit him head-on. The bloom of golden instincts in the back of his mind. The pull of his body to every twitch of Roy’s hands.
There was a word for it, though Jason had never thought he’d use it. Desire. Something deeper than even that. But to put words to the actual scent, the notes in Roy’s very being -- that was impossible. It was like trying to describe the scent of the sun.
Jason blinked, shaking his head from side to side to clear the not-quite memory.
“I honestly couldn’t tell you.”
Lex was far too sneaky to give anything away in his expression, but Jason could tell he was slightly taken aback. Luckily, Dan stepped forward just as Lex went to respond, slinging an arm around his waist and guiding him to the front passenger seat.
Jason crammed himself into the back, curling up on the seat with his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around his shins. It was a very pup-like pose, something he’d been desperate to avoid, but in the absence of the nest, it was the only true physical comfort he had.
The ride back to the Manor was completely silent. Jason stared out of the window the entire time, though he couldn’t have recalled a single thing he’d seen. One thought circled his mind again and again, a mantra he repeated to stay in the moment as much as possible.
Bruce will know what to do.
Underneath the mantra was the thought he’d been trying to avoid. The feeling of being watched as they left the ballroom. The heat of golden eyes on his back.
The memory of looking behind him and seeing no one in the crowded ballroom but Roy. Roy, who even from afar, mouthed a singular word in apology, almost like a prayer.
Jason.