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"Dick?"
(This is where his hope is. Bruce lets himself dream of a pack, him and his aba and three small puppies, children; he lets himself hope that he can have soft mornings carrying them into the sunshine; he's drawing himself a picture of having three pups behind him as he asks Alfred for terrifyingly buttery popcorn during movie-and-pack nights. Dick feels like sunshine and hugs, hot chocolate on a snowy day, whooping flips through the air. Jason is dancing in a rainstorm to classical music and long nights in the library. Tim is sneaking around and, somehow, camera flashes. There's a scent of loneliness still in the air, surrounding all three of them, and Bruce wants to rub himself all over them, so any kidnappers or schoolboys or other people will know that they are protected by someone who will do anything to get them back.)
"Yes, al- Bruce?" Dick sounds unsure. Jason and Tim are balled up in his lap. Dick's scent is... it's a little scared, a little tired, and all Bruce wants to do is scent his new puppies.
"So I wanted to adopt you." Bruce says tentatively. He looks at Jason and Tim. "You seem like very sweet pups."
"Oh, thank goodness!" The air around Dick is sweet and relieved. Bruce opens his mouth to keep going, to hash this out a bit. "I was worried you wouldn't want another alpha's pups!"
Wait.
"Do we have to get married first?"
What?
"I-" Bruce can barely get it out. "Dick, what? No!"
"You said you would, though!"
"I wanted to adopt all three of you, actually." Bruce says. Who knows, maybe Dick himself doesn't want to be adopted, he could always just foster the pup, but the part of him that's already claimed the pup as mine doesn't agree. At all.
"But then you can't mate me, Bruce." Dick says, confused.
"I never wanted to?" Bruce asks, also confused. "You three are my pups, or at least my wards, if you don't want to be adopted."
"Really?" Dick's eyes are wide, his scent confused.
"You're my pups now, I want to put it on paper if you want."