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Some people just couldn’t learn a lesson.
It wasn’t hard. Jason had made it extremely clear that he would not be allowing human trafficking and yet here he was, casually shooting his way through a warehouse because of another group that stuck people in cages. The idiots in charge tried to justify their actions by stridently asserting that they only participated in the sale of shifters, thereby compounding their problem with bigotry and inciting a personal rage in Jason.
“Shifters are people, you illiterate pile of garbage,” Jason seethed, before shooting them in the head.
The warehouse was empty of any actually occupied cages—this whole little side trip had popped up on Jason’s radar after the Bats had swarmed a ship in Gotham Bay and rescued a whole shipment of shifters, without even inviting him, rude—and Jason gleefully vented his rage, amusing himself by imagining the vein throbbing on Batman’s forehead when he learned of this.
They had a wary truce, and by truce Jason meant that he had made it clear that he was going to shoot any Bat in his territory and in return, they stayed out of his business. But annoying Bruce was like poking at a sore tooth, Jason just couldn’t resist. A part of him wanted to see how far he could go before he crossed one of Batman’s unyielding lines and was hauled to Arkham.
Once all the screams and shouts had died down to moans and whimpers and gurgles, Jason began shifting through what was left. Liberating weapons and supplies from criminals was the best kind of shopping. Duty-free.
He’d amassed a decent pile by the time he made it to the back. What was left wasn’t guns and supplies, just drugs, and Jason gave them a distasteful glance as he wove through the crates. Boxes, boxes, oh that looked like weapons, boxes, cages, he could see green flickering at the edges of his vision again, more cages—
Jason froze in place, staring at the cage stacked on top of a crate. The occupied cage. The occupied cage with a bird in very familiar red, green, and yellow.
The macaw was too still, slumped against the side of the cage, and Jason was moving before he made the conscious decision to, fumbling at the lock and yanking the cage open. The macaw jerked forward with a startled warble and for a stretching moment, they both just stared at each other.
“Hey,” Jason said, keeping his voice quiet as he slowly extended his hand, fist closed. “You wanna come out of there?”
The macaw turned those big eyes—pupils dilated, so they’d definitely given him something—down to stare at Jason’s leather-clad arm. He wobbled forward, very clearly off balance, and nearly fell over when he tried to latch onto Jason’s arm. Jason had to catch him and draw him out of the cage.
The bird fluttered his wings slightly as he stared up at Jason, shuffling in place. Jason stared back, discomfited. This was the closest he’d gotten to Nightwing since he’d come back, and the first time he’d seen the vigilante shifted. The weight on his arm was familiar in a way that made his heart ache.
“So, um,” Jason started, planning to say want me to call the Bat because there was nothing fun about taunting a drugged macaw, when the bird in question let out a loud wail and tipped forward, flaring its wings.
Jason took a step back, not dropping the bird despite his instinctive reaction to get away, and winced as it…flopped on him? The macaw warbled another woeful cry, wings fluttering as they curled around Jason’s shoulders, beating lightly at Jason’s arms. The tone was too low to be a squawk, too high to be a call and Jason placed a steady hand on the macaw’s back before realizing that the bird was scared.
“Wing?” Jason asked slowly. A mournful chirp. “Are you okay?”
The wings pressed more firmly around Jason’s shoulders as the macaw made another forlorn wail. Oh, said one of the few brain cells still working in Jason’s head, this is a hug.
“Hey, hey, shh,” Jason said in a tone he thought he’d forgotten as Dick attempted to clutch onto him with wings, “It’s okay, no more cages, you’re safe now.” Jason patted ruffled feathers with his gloves, gentle and soft. “You’re safe, you’re okay, shh.”
Dick nuzzled against Jason’s armor, wriggling his head into Jason’s jacket as much as he was able, still emitting faint warbles. Jason could feel how fast his tiny little heart was beating and kept slowly combing his fingers through the brightly colored feathers.
“You’re okay,” Jason reassured, easing back a step. When Dick showed no signs of alarm, he continued walking away from the crates and cages, careful not to jostle the bird. He didn’t want to admit that the plaintive cries were tugging at his heart but the sight of Dick attempting to burrow into him like Jason hadn’t shot at him the last time they’d seen each other was heart-wrenching.
He didn’t want to call Batman. He wanted to take Dick home and let his brother flop on top of him and take a nap.
Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he was getting a choice.
“Hood,” said a voice too high to be Batman and Jason turned to see the Replacement standing in the room, bo staff extended, head tilted as though he was trying to keep the dead bodies and Jason both in clear view.
“Replacement,” Jason said with much less bite than usual.
“What are you doing with him?” the kid challenged, sinking deeper into a wary stance as Jason stalked closer.
Jason rolled his eyes behind his helmet. “Planning to take him home and turn him into Christmas dinner,” he sniped. He supposed the Replacement was just as good as the Bat to babysit Dick, and he ruthlessly suppressed any nostalgic memories of cuddling with the big, affectionate bird.
Dick, however, squawked when Jason attempted to detach him.
“Calm down, Big Bird,” Jason hissed, trying to avoid being buffeted by Dick’s flailing wings, “It’s just the Replacement.” The cries increased in distress as Jason pried Dick’s claws off his arm. “Come on, let go.”
Dick made an almighty wail as Jason pulled him off and Jason hastily thrust him at a startled Robin who ended up dropping his staff to catch Dick. Dick warbled his extreme displeasure, flapping his wings several times before clutching onto the kid and trembling.
Jason refused to feel bad. He’d gotten Dick out of his cage, that was his good deed for the day. He should leave before he felt the urge to shoot the Replacement. Though the sight of the kid cursing and trying to hold Dick while the macaw’s wings wrapped around his head made for a hilarious picture.
The bo staff was still on the floor and Jason scooped it up, testing the weight in his hands and spinning it between his fingers. Should be a good souvenir to piss off the kid. “Where’s the Batmobile?” Jason asked. He hadn’t heard its familiar roar.
“What?” the Replacement said, voice muffled by Dick’s feathers, “Nightwing, ow, that’s my hair!”
“The Batmobile,” Jason said louder, rapping the staff across the kid’s hip—the Replacement hissed and twisted away from Jason as he tried to adjust his hold on Dick.
“I don’t know,” he retorted, backing away from Jason’s general direction but clearly more preoccupied with prying Dick off his face. Dick was vehemently resisting any attempts to be moved, wings wrapped tightly around Robin’s head as he made short, scared cries.
Jason didn’t feel a pang at the sound. He didn’t.
“How are you planning to get him back to the Cave?” Jason asked testily, snapping the stick out again to jab at the kid’s side. “He’s been drugged.”
“I don’t know, okay!” the Replacement snapped, jerking away from him, “And would you stop that!” He was awkwardly patting Dick’s back, but his movements were too quick to be soothing. “Come on, Nightwing, I need to see.”
Jason glowered at them both. Irritated, he jabbed at the kid’s side again, but this time Robin was ready and caught the end of the bo staff before Jason could pull it away. “Hood,” he hissed in a remarkable imitation of Batman’s annoyed tone.
“Come on,” Jason grumbled, tugging at the staff but not hard enough to rip it out of kid’s grasp, “I have a motorcycle. I’ll give you a ride to the Cave.”
Robin’s fingers had curled firmly around the staff as he supported Dick with one hand. “Yeah?” the kid sounded extremely suspicious, “What’s in it for you?”
Jason exhaled heavily. “Maybe I’m in a good mood. Maybe I don’t want him dead, which he will be if you try carting around a bird in Robin colors through Gotham on foot. Maybe I want to get you alone and isolated so we can reenact Titans Tower all over again.”
The Replacement’s fingers tightened on the staff as he tensed. “You’re an asshole,” the kid spat out.
“Tell me something I don’t know. Now march.” Jason tugged on the staff again and kept walking, forcing Robin to either let go or follow.
Dick let out quiet warbles every now and again, wings fluttering, but for the most part they made it out of the warehouse without incident. The Replacement even managed to pull Dick down enough that the bird was merely strangling him instead of suffocating him, and glared at Jason as Dick nestled his head in the kid’s hair.
“Hang on tight,” Jason said when they got to his motorcycle, revving the bike just to make the kid flinch. He was surprised at the arm that wrapped around his waist, clinging fast to his jacket—a grip that never loosened, even as Jason rode slowly and carefully all the way back to the Cave.
The Replacement headed straight to the medbay once Jason stopped the bike, not a single thank you in sight. Jason followed after him, removing the helmet and eyeing the Cave curiously. He hadn’t been here in years and so many things had changed. He paused in front of a glass case with—was that the Robin uniform he’d died in? Jesus Christ, Bruce was morbid sometimes.
When he reached the medbay, he leaned against the door and watched the kid struggle with a floppy and distressed bird who didn’t want to let him go. “I need to take a tox screen, Dick,” the Replacement said, attempting to free a hand, “Dick!”
The macaw did not care. Jason snorted and the kid whirled on him, eyes flashing. “What are you still doing here?” he snarled.
“Watching you fail,” Jason said, stepping forward, “You’re never going to get him to let go of you, not like that.” The Replacement tensed at his approach, arm curling around Dick’s back, but Jason ignored his wariness to reach for Dick.
The macaw made a lot of loud squawking as Jason grabbed him and pulled him away from the kid but Jason brought him close, stroking a hand down Dick’s back as his wings flailed and his claws dug into Jason’s jacket. “We’re in the Cave now, Dickie,” Jason said softly, “Come on, it’s okay, you’re safe.”
Dick made a sharp, upset sound and let himself flop on Jason, wings curling around his shoulders as his head nestled against Jason’s neck.
“I know,” Jason soothed, “Sorry, Dickiebird, but we had to get you back.” He kept up the stroking. “Now, Timmy needs to draw some blood, okay? It’ll just be a pinch.”
Dick warbled unhappily. The kid had already fetched the blood draw kit and was staring at Jason like he’d never seen him before.
“A little pinch,” Jason pressed his cheek to Dick’s feathered head, splaying his hand along Dick’s back to keep him still before motioning at Tim. The kid moved quick and Jason was already stroking ruffled feathers by the time Dick made a distressed cry. “Shh, it’s over, it’s okay, it’s all done now.”
The kid was still staring at Jason like he was an alien and Jason gestured sharply at the vial in his hands, accompanied by his fiercest glower. Tim jerked in place like he’d forgotten where he was, and glared back before heading to the analysis station.
“It’s okay,” Jason hummed soothingly, leaning against the cot as he continued petting the upset macaw. From his vantage point, he could see Tim, the garage, and the stairs to the Manor. Bruce and Alfred might be scheduled to be out of town, but Jason wasn’t taking any chances. “You’re safe now, and we’ll figure everything else out, Dickiebird.”
The macaw made a warble but subsided in favor of tucking his head back into Jason’s jacket, wings slowly relaxing, as though he was trusting Jason to hold him. The thought made something churn in his stomach.
The Replacement popped up after what felt like a small eternity.
“There’s only a mild sedative in there,” the kid said, looking at Dick and back at Jason. “His shift’s probably locked due to stress.” Nightwing shifted between his forms as easy as breathing, but Jason could see how being locked in a cage might be stressful. “He should be fine after he calms down.”
Dick made an upset cry and fluttered his wings, clutching Jason again like he was afraid Jason was going to leave. Jason, who had fully intended to stalk out now that he had proof that Dick was okay, grudgingly deflated.
“Fine,” he flopped back onto the bed, letting Dick rest more easily on him, “But just this once, you feathered idiot. And you’re going to let me take some gear before leaving, I’m running out of smoke bombs.”
Dick made a crooning sound as he wriggled closer and Jason kept the glower on his face even as he gently stroked through Dick’s feathers. The armor was poking him and Jason started unbuckling it. The kid hadn’t moved, staring at Jason with an indecipherable expression, and Jason felt his hackles bristle.
“What?” he snapped. If the Replacement told him to get out…
The kid jerked back in what looked like a flinch, shoulders hunching protectively, and Jason felt a pang inside him. “Nothing,” he said evenly, “I’ll leave you two to it.” He turned on a heel to walk away and Jason belatedly remembered that there was no one else at home.
“Wait!” Jason called out, pausing in the middle of trying to undo his holsters and squirm out of the more uncomfortable parts of his gear. The kid paused to look warily at him. “Dickie would feel better with familiar people around.” The kid was still staring at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Jason huffed. “And he would feel better if he has someone to preen.”
The Replacement just stared at him with a flinty expression. Jason exhaled explosively.
“Look, kid, I know you’re a bird shifter, just get over here and give Dick someone to go all Mama Bird on,” Jason snapped, adjusting Dick awkwardly as he tried to get the straps of the holster all the way off. Dick was still wracked with tiny shivers and as heartwarming as Jason felt being cuddled by an overgrown bird—a fact he would deny to his second dying day—he was aware that his presence wouldn’t really help Dick’s stress, whether or not the dumb bird realized it.
The kid took a wary step closer.
Jason rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to eat you.” He pointedly shifted until there was space on the cot. “Come on.”
Tim stalked closer and closer, eyes fixed on Jason’s hands like he expected them to conjure up a knife. Sheesh. Slit someone’s throat once and they never let you forget it. When the kid had finally crept onto the cot, as far from Jason as possible, he took a deep breath and shifted.
Into the weirdest bird Jason had ever seen.
“The fuck kind of bird is that?” Jason said, surprised to be met with a small, rotund ball of brown…fur. Those were too thin and spindly to be feathers, except those were bird legs, and a long beak, and real fur wasn’t so prickly. Jason stretched out a hand and the small bird froze as Jason touched the feather-fur things.
Huh. It was soft. Certainly felt like fur. Jason narrowed his eyes at the bird. “You look like an overgrown duckling,” he pronounced.
Jason wasn’t expecting the bird to duck and scrunch itself tighter, trembling under Jason’s absent-minded petting. Jason realized what he was doing, realized who he was doing it to, and yanked his hand back. “Dickie,” he said, poking the dramatic pile of feathers laying on his chest, “Look, it’s Timmers. The baby bird. Don’t you want to cuddle with a baby bird?”
Dick slowly lifted his head and looked around, like he suspected a trick.
“Come on, Dickie,” Jason coaxed, “He’s right here. All for you to cuddle. But if you don’t want him, I guess I’ll—”
Dick squawked, cuffed him with a wing, and half-flapped his way to the baby bird. The macaw was easily big enough to dwarf the tiny kiwi and Dick curled one wing around the kid, cuddling him close to his side. The other wing remained splayed out across Jason’s chest.
Jason tried to shift. Unfortunately, even one wing of a bird as big as Dick was enough to keep him firmly in place and Jason resigned himself to petting Dick’s feathers as the idiot bird in question made soft, sleepy coos.
He could always leave after they fell asleep.
Jason woke up, firmly pinned under the weight of two slumbering humans, and cursed himself for putting his guns out of reach.