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used to be so cute

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This Robin is really pretty. Like . . . way too pretty for any of it to make sense, because Dick doesn't know why someone so pretty decided to become Robin when they could be anything. They could be an angel, and no one would question it one little bit. Or slightly more realistically, a model. Because the omega in front of him could totally do it. He's short, yeah, but he also has really long legs that look really nice and big blue eyes and his hair is an elegantly messy mop on his head. His skin is pale and his features delicate and he smells amazing and Dick can't stop blushing.

Robin looks at him strangely and Dick shifts in his seat. There's no way he'll be able to handle this for the next five hours. Yes, he's aware that incredibly painless for a time-travel spell, but he's going to be spending all that time with the most gorgeous omega on Earth, and Dick can't handle that. He really, really can't.

It's just him and this Robin in the BatCave, and he just took a shower, so Dick is getting that amazing clean scent, and he just wants to bury his face in Robin's neck and breathe.

Actually, Robin said that he could call him Tim. And he's letting him see his real face because he trusts Dick, and he wonders what made Bruce chill out on the whole "no revealing your secret ID to anyone, not even your best friend" rule. Or if he didn't, and Rob- Tim is a rulebreaker.

Dick won't lie, the thought of it is pretty hot. This cute omega, doing what he wants because he's Robin and Robin doesn't always have to listen to Batman and can be his own thing?

It's really hot.

Like . . . super hot.

He glances out of the corner of his eye towards Tim, who's wearing Batman pajama bottoms and fuzzy socks and some black sweatshirt with a blue bird on the front, a cool design that Dick has never seen before.

He wonders what he's like in this time, who he is if he's not Robin, something that seems impossible, but the proof is right in front of him now.

He wonders what his dynamic is.

Probably omega, both his parents were. He knows that's what everyone expects him to be, and he doesn't have any major complaints about presenting one day. It doesn't feel quite right, but that's certainly natural.

Even though he's thirteen and edging out the age group to present as an omega, so his presentation needs to come soon.

If it ever comes. He supposes that he could be a beta and heats and ruts will just be a weird thing to him.

Tim's sixteen, and Dick feels awkward next to him. Small and tiny and nowhere near being a grown-up. He shuffles in his seat, his uniform weighing on him heavily. Tim has a similar uniform, but he wears it better. It . . . it fills out more. Dick bets that people respect Tim a lot more as Robin than they do him, that they don't see him as just a silly sidekick that belongs to Batman and needs to sit at the kids' table. No, Dick bets that when Tim speaks, people listen. When he says that he wants something done, he gets it done.

Sure, the older boy is currently piling on a lot of marshmallows into his hot chocolate, but when he was in uniform?

He was the prettiest thing Dick ever saw, some ancient God with a steel back and kind eyes.

He wonders if Tim will tell him what he's like now and what he's doing, but he doubts. He knows that he wouldn't tell anyone about their future just in case it ended up ruining the past, it's a stupid idea and Dick shouldn't be thinking it. Of course, it might not be his future self, because Dick could be starting an alternate universe right now. Though he can't really make a lot of decisions stuck here in the BatCave for five hours before he returns back to his time.

He actually doesn't even know what year it is, just that at some point in the next few, Bruce is going to replace him with a fucking model.

He grabs his own cup of Alfred hot cocoa, because there's one thing that will never change about the Manor and that is how the lives of everyone who lives in it depends on him. Tim smiles at him as he takes a sip, the marshmallows melting into the chocolate, probably making the drink insanely sweet, and Dick's heart skips a beat.

It's not fair how one omega can be so beautiful, but man, Dick hopes that he and Tim get along now.

He wants to see that face everyday.

Dick's mind flips through topics, trying to find the perfect one to discuss because he knows he can't ask anything about the future, but boy, does he want too. How did Tim become Robin? How does he interact with the hero community? What is his relationship to Dick? What's his relationship to Bruce? He and Alfred certainly seem to know each other well. And then there's questions that Dick wants to ask, but he knows that he can't because they're just really fucking rude. How did Tim present? Did it hurt? What's it like to finally have a piece of the puzzle that is your life snap into place?

Dick takes a deep breath, unsure what to say, but starting to feel like he needs to say something. Anything just to make this all less awkward.

"Do you like birds?"

Dick is never, in a million years, ever going to talk to anybody again because he can't be trusted.

At least not around pretty omegas that make him aware of every nerve in his body and send them thrumming with excitement.

Tim looks at him, blinks, and then bursts into peals of laughter. It takes the older boy (though Dick supposes that he's really the younger boy unless this has only been a year or two into the past, and Dick has a feeling it's been longer) more than a few minutes to calm down. He wipes away tears from those gorgeous eyes as he looks at Dick. "I prefer bats," he smirks, and then bursts into more laughter.

Dick should feel embarrassed by the laughter, but all he can feel is a gladness in his heart that he made Tim smile. He blushes and looks down at his shoes, grinning when Tim chuckles for a few minutes more. Tim turns to look at him with a critical and caring eye, and Dick isn't even sure how that's possible.

"What do you really want to know?" he whispers, and Dick sighs. There's only one question that he really wants to know and that he thinks would get answered.

"What's my dynamic? If . . . if I've presented by now."

Tim looks at him with a blank gaze, before taking a deep breath. "You're an alpha," he whispers. He bends his head down, almost ashamed of telling Dick the truth while Dick's mind goes a million miles a minute, trying to process this new information.

Alpha, he's an alpha.

The words are strange in his mind, and he feels like he should say something to Tim, but he can't think of the right words. Are there right words? He's an alpha, that's normal. But he never expected it. Both his parents are omegas, and he just. . . . He should be an omega like them, right? But plenty of people turn out to have different dynamics that their parents who share one, it's not like Dick's special here or anything. He wonders if being adopted by Bruce changed anything, but that's ridiculous. He was born an alpha, he just hasn't presented yet so he never knew because the only test to find out is expensive as hell and painful to get and makes presentations worse when they do happen so why go through all that trouble for something that was going to happen anyway?

He stares down at his hands. They're normal hands. His hands. He wonders since he's an alpha, if they should be bigger. He should be bigger, right?

But he's not an alpha yet, so all those hormones that are going to make him big and strong just haven't happened yet.

But he might not end up big and strong, his parents were acrobats, they were short.

"Hey," Tim whispers. "You okay?"

Dick nods, for lack of anything else to do or say or think. He's an alpha, and he's going to present eventually. He's thirteen and that's right when alpha presentation starts,  how could he never think about it as a possibility? He went straight to late-presenting omega if not just a simple beta, and didn't once consider the other thing it could be.

An alpha.

"Am I a good alpha?" he asks, his voice sounding like it came out from underwater.

He had never thought being an omega or a beta sounded right, but neither does being an alpha. He had waited for his heat to arrive like Garth and Wally's had, but nothing ever came. Nothing's ever going to come except a rut and oh God, he really hopes he does nothing embarrassing around Garth. Or Wally. Or Clark. Or Hal. Or-

Okay, maybe he has a lot of crushes on omegas and none on betas and only Babs for another alpha, but that doesn't really mean anything, except maybe it did. No, that's bullshit.

But is it?

Fuck.

This is all too much, and he just wants to lay down, so he does.

And his head ends up near Tim's lap, and he closes his eyes without thinking as Tim's hands begin to card through his hair.

"Thanks," he whispers.

"Of course," Tim whispers. "I'll be here for as long as you need me."