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Tim groans, feeling exhausted and hazy as he blinks up at the ceiling of his apartment. His wings were itchy- he was so, so itchy- but he couldn’t find the energy in himself to get up and going. The insides of his wings were white, dappled occasionally with brilliant ambers and sooty grays while the back of his wings looked like wildfire scrambling up his coverts, leaving behind ash and soot that dyed his primaries and secondaries.
That was all well and good, if not for the fact that he had to endure the exhaustion and annoying itching for several weeks. The process would be made easier if he had someone to help reach his secondary coverts, but he’d much rather drown than do so.
With a miserable groan, Tim forces himself upright before vigorously shaking his wings. Instantly, the apartment was covered in loose feathers, and Tim’s normally well-kempt wings were looking more than rough.
Tears spring into his eyes as he surveys the mess, and he just about gave up right then and there. With an irritated whine, he lashed his tail and face-planted back into his bed, hell-bent on sleeping away his molting.
In a daze, he paces around the perimeter of his room. His tail lashing in agitation, feathers fanning and as they clung stubbornly to his skin. A thin, distressed noise peels from his lips, as a wave of confusion overtakes him.
There was a loud, disorienting noise that abruptly startled him. His wings flare, several loose secondaries flutter to the floor as he glares at the glowing box rattling on the table. With a discontented grumble, he shoves himself back into the hastily put-together nest.
He drags a clawed hand through his hair as the itchiness of his scapulars grows unbearable. The beginnings of a distressed wail bubbles at his lips, his claws dart toward his dense feathers- piercing into the flesh as he desperately tries to alleviate the itch.
The cacophonous, overwhelming, ringing begins once more. A dampness flows down his flesh, but he does not quite understand what it meant in the dazed and hazy fog that clouded his mind.
With a frustrated snarl, he grabs the loud box and slams it against the wall. In the wake of silence, he relaxes, vigorously thrashing his wings before diving into his unkempt nest.
With a wheezy hiss, he tucks his head under his ruffled and red-dyed wings and surrenders himself to sleep.
There was a harsh knocking that jerked him to awareness. With a confused churr, he lashed his tail in agitation before clumsily stumbling to his feet. With a hiss, he winces as his wing catches on a bowl full of fruit, accidentally knocking it onto the floor. The porcelain shatters, and the haze clears just enough for Tim to register the utter mess his apartment had become.
Feathers covered nearly every surface, blood was splattered across the floor and tipped numerous fallen feathers, his bed was covered in blood too, his wall was slightly dented with his phone cracked and broken on the floor, and his feathers on his left wing was matted with dried blood.
A sharp, distressed note fills his throat, and Tim could barely force his emotions back into place.
“Tim?” a familiar voice calls from just outside his door, “Tim, are you okay?”
Another voice joins the first, “Yo, Timber! Open the damn door or else we’re going to kick the door in!”
He whimpers, tears burning his eyes as dizziness overtakes his mind, and nausea churns in his gut. His tail lashes, but he used too much force and was sent careening to the floor.
“Tim! Shit- Jason!”
“Way fucking ahead of you!”
There was a loud bang, and Tim looked up to see his brothers standing above him, the shattered wooden door at their feet as they rushed to his side.
A confused chirp filled the air, and he felt himself being hoisted to his feet by steady hands. His brothers exchanged matching looks of concern over his head, but Tim couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“Hey, Tim?” Dick asked as Jason shifted Tim’s weight fully into the eldest Wayne child’s arms, “How are you feeling?”
Tim blinks, eyes narrowing in confusion as he gazed down at his brother’s back, an insistent click leaving his lips as he reached down to pat at Dick’s shoulder blades. Where did his wings go?
“Oh geez, you’re really out of it, aren’t you? Jason, grab Tim’s charm, we need to get him home now.”
“What? What stage of birdism is he at now?” Jason reappears, and Tim cranes his neck to peer at his back. Why was Jason’s wings also missing?
Dick winces, “The bit where he forgets our wings aren’t actually wings. Come on, let’s get going before he throws a fit.”
Tim pouts. He might not understand much of what was happening, but he knows very well what that tone meant.
With an annoyed whine, he squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face into his brother’s neck- an unhappy noise bubbling up from his throat.
“Dude, he’s really out of it.”
There was a sigh, “Yeah, I know. With the way he’s clinging to me, you have to drive. Here, put his charm on.”
His brows furrow as hands begin to prod around his neck. Then, after a faint click, Tim feels the weight on his back lighten, and he fully relaxes into Dick’s hold.
One moment he was dozing off, and the next he was in something moving- surrounded on all sides by an irritating rumbling noise that just would not stop.
An agitated snarl began to build at the base of his throat, and he prepares to leap at whatever dares to threaten his flock-
A hand cards through his hair, and Tim blinks in surprise. He twists his head downward to see Dick looking right back at him with a brow raised in amusement.
“Easy, Tim. It’s just a car, okay? Relax, we’re fine.”
He huffs, eyes narrowing but the soothing and repetitive hands through his hair slowly distracted him from the thundering roars outside, and led him back to the realm of sleep.
When he next woke up, Tim was significantly more cognizant.
“Wha-?” he blinked, vision blurry as he slowly pushed himself upright. The room was dark, and the bed he was currently on was distinctly not his- but instead, it seemed to be Bruce’s. It smelled like the man’s conditioner, anyway.
“Hm?” there was a sleep-muffled sound to his left, and Tim swiped his nictitating membrane over his eyes as his vision adjusted to the dim lighting.
“...Dick?” Tim whispered incredulously, frowning at the sight of his brother’s artificial wings splayed out across the bed.
There was an annoyed groan nearby, and he whips around to see Damian wrapped in a thick cocoon of blankets with Cass’s sleeping form thrown haphazardly over him. Scattered around the bed were feathers that Tim recognized to be his own. It took him a moment, but he realized that molting season had begun- and he was in the throes of it.
“What’s up, Tim?” Dick rasped back, his eyes blinking open to peer at him with a vaguely amused smile, “You’re back with us?”
He gave an embarrassed smile, “Yeah… It’s going to get worse, you know.”
Dick rolls his eyes in exasperation, “Okay, and? Why do you think Bruce, Jason, and Steph are missing? We’re doing this in shifts, Tim.”
Damian groans again, peeling his eyes open to throw the pair a heated glare, “I swear to all things holy- Drake, Grayson, if you two do not shut your mouths, then I will shut it for you!”
“Yes yes, we get it,” Dick laughs, a smile etching across his face while his eyes slipped shut, “little birdies need their beauty sleep.”
Damian sends them one last glare before Cass reaches up and smacks her hand over the youngest’s eyes. He makes a disgruntled sound, but quickly falls asleep afterward. Tim shakes his head, blinking as he feels the haze slowly creep into the corner of his vision.
“Get some rest, okay?” Dick gives him a gentle smile, and Tim feels something in his chest loosen.
With a contented purr-like sound, Tim curls up in his almost-father’s bed and allows his instincts to take him. Thankfully this time, he has his family around to help him through the molting season.