Wolves of a Feather

The Demands of Tim Drake

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Chapter Fourteen

The Demands of Tim Drake

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Jason yawned, jaw cracking as he settled back in his chair. His empty plate was spotless. He never said anything, but Dick noticed that the beta loved the omelets Wintergreen made. Dick may have made a request for the old butler to make them a little more frequently. Dick was still drinking his coffee, his eyes lazily scanning the news headlines for anything interesting. Slade had left already. Judging by the fact that the duffle bag and armor was still in the mercenary's room, and he had left in a suit, he was going to his job at Wayne Enterprise instead of anything Deathstroke related. Honestly, Dick wasn't sure which would be worse at the moment.

They had made arrangements for Damian to call every Friday. He was supposed to be calling tonight. Dick was looking forward to it. He wanted to see Tim and get updates on how they were doing. Dick had told Alfred to call if they needed anything. Regardless of who now owned them, Dick still felt responsible for the two pups. He probably always would. Wintergreen had made suggestions for the Nightwing and Red Hood costumes. The level of the building that held the gun range also contained its own sort of 'Batcave' though arsenal workshop might have been a better description. Jason had been very interested in the new designs. Dick was a little more reluctant but had agreed to come down and at least have a proper look at them. He had to silently remind himself that he wasn't Robin anymore.

Dick and Jason spent most of the day anticipating the phone call with the pups. For the most part, they tried to stay busy. They trained together, looked over the designs, made amendments and went into the city center for a late lunch. It was nearly sunset by the time they got back. They knew on entry that their alpha had returned. They could hear the shower going and the man's rich scent was fresh in the air. Jason helped himself to a beer and wondered off to watch television. Dick watched with interest as Wintergreen measured out ingredients into a cocktail shaker.

"What are you making?" Dick asked as the man added two shots of an expensive looking rye whiskey. He cracked a large cube of ice into the mix. He wasn't one for cocktails often.

"It's called an Old Fashion," Wintergreen said mildly as he mixed the fish amber liquid before straining it into one of the crystal glasses.

"For Slade?" Dick guessed. The old beta nodded.

"Can I take it to him?" Wintergreen peeled a lemon and squeezed the skin lightly over the glass before placing it into the cocktail. He held the drink out to Dick.

"You may." Dick took the cocktail to the main bathroom. The shower had turned off. No one really bothered to lock doors in the penthouse, so Dick just let himself in. Slade, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, was trimming his beard. The scent of the man, hot from the shower and clean sent a shiver right down Dick's spine. The omega padded over, feeing stupid for his own nervousness.

"Long day?" Dick asked as he held out the drink. Slade smirked. He accepted the drink with one hand and used the other to pull Dick closer. Dick purred instinctively, breathing in the smell of scotch, clean skin, and vanilla. The alpha took a sip of the cocktail and leant down to demand a kiss. Dick accepted eagerly and groaned softly, tasting the drink on the man's tongue.

"Damian should be calling soon," Dick sighed, resting his forehead against Slade's shoulder. The alpha rumbled, licking once over his pack bite.

"We need to arrange a meeting with the bat," the alpha growled lazily.

"I'll organize it," Dick promised, stealing another kiss. Feeling it was probably smart to leave in case this turned into something that would make him very late to hear from Damian, Dick turned.