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The chick is a tiny thing, with filthy, un-groomed downy feathers. He makes frustrated little peeps to himself as he struggles with the lug nuts of the batmobile’s wheels and Bruce melts.
It’s only been a few months since Dick, in a fit of anger, flew Bruce’s nest and he’s been feeling so very empty ever since. He knows it’s his fault Dick left, he’s heard it plenty from said chick and Alfred, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. He knows he’s too much–too controlling– and if he takes this little chick home he’ll find a way to screw this up too.
But, he’s been hurting in a way that only a parent can feel and while this chick isn’t his Dickie, he’s clearly in need of a nest, of a home, and Bruce has plenty of space.
Bruce tries to shrink himself down as much as he can, which isn’t much, as he approaches the little bird. It’s almost comical how wide the boy’s eyes go when he glances over his shoulder and looks up up up to see the Batman looming over him. He lets out a high pitched squeak and goes scrambling back.
“I’m sorry!” He peeps, trying to dart around the bumper of the car to get away from the larger bird, but Bruce has been dealing with slippery little chicks for years now and easily grabs him under his arms and hoists him up.
“I’m sorry, p–,” the boy immediately bursts into terrified sobs, “P-please don’t eat me!”
It didn’t happen as often anymore thanks to modern laws and the work of people like the Batman, but occasionally birds of prey still like to subscribe to the olde ways and hunt smaller birds and cannibalize them. Now and days it was only the really sick and twisted and those who were exponentially wealthy that participated in the practice anymore. At least that’s what Bruce thought, but based on the sheer terror of the chick in his arms, he’s wondering if he’s going to have to investigate if the practice is making a more widespread return.
“I’m not going to eat you,” Bruce huffs, lifting the chick higher so that he can get a better look at his wings. Thankfully it doesn’t look like they’re broken or damaged anywhere. Satisfied that his new chick isn’t in need of immediate medical attention he takes off his cape and wraps the boy up in it before placing him in the batmobile.
The chick thrashes about and between hiccuping sobs lets out furious peeps the whole time Bruce is buckling him in. Once the chick is secure he stands back and frowns at his car; time to find where the hell he put his wheels.
…
Bruce doesn’t bother taking off his armor when he gets back to the manor (not that he’d have been able to without worrying about his new chick, who grumpily announced his name is Jason, running away) and instead takes his squirming bundle straight to his nest.
Thankfully, the boy has calmed a bit during the trip and is less terror and more indignant fury. But as soon as he plops him into his nest, his little head is swiveling around in curiosity. He wonders if he’s ever actually been in a real nest before, based on how thin and dirty he is, probably not.
Bruce uses the moment of distraction to take off his cowl and some of his more cumbersome pieces of armor.
“Where’s the other chick?” The boy asks as he investigates the nest, his hand playing with the tufts of down from Dick’s last molt. They’re the kind of feathers that a fully fledged bird like Bruce would no longer shed.
Bruce climbs into the nest, stretching out his wings and settling over the chick, “He left for college.”
Jason lets out a squawk as Bruce sits on him but settles quickly as his large wings cover the chick completely.
That’s how Alfred finds him the next morning and the older sea bird is deeply unimpressed by Bruce’s sudden adoption if his arched brow is anything to go by.
“Honestly, sir, you could have at least given him a bath before flinging him into the nest.”
Bruce has no regrets.
…
Jason doesn’t know what to think of the Batman, or Bruce, as the harpy eagle had introduced himself.
One minute he’s stealing the tires off a sick looking car, already dreaming about the money he’ll make on the wheels, and the next he’s being sat on in the largest nest he’s ever seen and getting his feathers groomed.
Jason lets out another squeak and tries batting away Bruce’s hands when he touches a particularly sensitive tangle of feathers. The older bird just warbles and continues to comb through them, ignoring Jason’s stream of outraged peeps.
Then some old sea bird comes into the room and ushers them down to breakfast, rather reluctantly on Bruce’s part who hadn’t finished grooming Jason’s feathers yet.
Bruce hovers during the meal as well, eyeing the food on Jason’s plate. He hopes that he’s not going to regurgitate his food for him, Jason’s old enough to digest his own food. He says as much out loud but Bruce still looks as if he’s considering it.
Thankfully he doesn’t but as soon as they’re finished eating, Bruce is sweeping him up to return to the nest and Jason tries his hardest to hate how wonderful it all is.
…
Dick stares at Bruce’s nest in disbelief, “I was only gone for three weeks!”
Though, any real anger he has is all directed at Bruce and his stupid over-controlling ways, not to the absolutely adorable chick peeking up at Dick over the edge of the nest.
Letting out a grumble, Dick asks, “So what’s your name, little wing?”
The chick’s face screws up in distaste at the nickname, “I’m Jason, and I’m not little!”
He even puffs up his fluffy feathers to make himself look bigger and Dick absolutely melts at the sight. Despite his fury at their idiot of an adoptive father, Dick is 100% on board with his new baby brother.
…
Dick doesn’t get the memo about Jason being practically an adult and regurgitates Jason’s food as soon as they’re sat down to eat.
“I’m only eating this because it’s wasteful to throw away food!” Jason declares with a petulant chirp. He clears the plate and it’s definitely not because it makes it so that his tummy doesn’t hurt after eating. It’s because of what he said, he hates wasting food.
…
The Justice League doesn’t know what to make of Batman’s newest Robin. He’s smaller than the previous one, younger too if his downy wings are anything to go by.
The little chick ignores their scrutiny and marvels at the sights of the Watchtower, jumping and running all over the place. Batman leaves him to it, only scolding him in the moments that he leaves the elder bird’s line of sight.
Eventually, Robin tires himself out and he shuffles his way over to his mentor. Chicks as young as Jason can’t regulate their body temperatures yet and the Watchtower is quite chilly. Bruce is surprised it took him this long before he was too cold to be away from Bruce’s body heat. Said chick peeps sleepily at the man as he wriggles his way under his large wings, tucking himself away.
Clark for his part absolutely coos at the baby bird, already smitten with the rambunctious new side kick.
“What the hell is wrong with you,” Hal demands, one of the only ones who objects to Batman’s birds, “That’s a baby! He can’t even fly!”
Muffled outraged peeps erupt from under Batman’s cape and wings but Bruce must be holding the chick still so that he doesn’t leave the protective shroud.
“He’s old enough to begin learning to defend himself. I’m not taking him into situations that would endanger him.”
Hal scoffs and looks to the other heroes but no one backs him up. Seeing he’s alone in his thoughts, he slumps down in his seat angrily and ignores them the rest of the meeting.
…
Before Bruce adopted Jason, his life had been hard. They had always been poor and the nest frame that he vaguely remembers from when he was super little had been sold for rent and booze. All that was left of the nest was a few blankets and pillows on the ground.
By that point, Jason’s mother had already been hooked on drugs and hadn’t objected to the nest being sold even though she had a young chick to worry about and keep warm.
Jason remembers having to learn how to sneak into his parent’s bedroom late at night and wriggle himself under his father’s wings so carefully as to not wake him.
There were a few times where he had accidentally woken the man up and the beatings had been so brutal that Jason had endeavored to never repeat it.
His sneakiness was the only thing that kept him alive. He would have frozen to death long ago if he hadn’t gotten so good at it.
When his father went away to prison and it was just Jason and his mother, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Catherine wouldn’t push Jason away at night (mostly because she was too strung out to even realize he was there most of the time).
When Bruce found him, his mother had died a few months prior and summer was coming to a close. The nights were getting chillier and Jason could only keep so warm in his makeshift nest he’d made in his bathtub.
He probably would have died that fall if it weren’t for Bruce.
And it’s hard not to be angry about all the injustices of life and the struggles that he faced. And Bruce certainly isn’t a perfect guardian, in fact he’s too controlling and over bearing but he’s trying so hard. Harder than any adult in Jason’s life has ever tried before.
That anger in his heart, it eases a little every time Bruce tucks him securely under his wings.
…
Dick lets out a petulant groan, “This sucks!”
Bruce rolls his eyes and continues adjusting the nest to tuck Jason further into it.
Dick had been careless in a recent fight and ended up with a broken foot and collarbone, rendering him incapable of patrolling. On top of all of that, Jason has finally caught the flu that was going around the middle school and was sporting a fever too high to go out as well.
Normally, Alfred would just stay with Jason, but he’s in England visiting his family so Dick has to be the one to nest sit the baby.
“You only have to stay here until Jason is feeling better, then you can go back to Bludhaven.”
Bruce has said that to him a million times but it doesn’t make it any less of a sucky situation. Dick loves his brother but being relegated to baby sitting duty while trying to recover from his own shit is not an ideal situation.
The elder bird leaves after making sure his youngest is properly situated and Dick is so unbelievably bored.
Jason makes some wheezing peeps in his sleep next to him and Dick warbles out some half hearted notes of comfort. It’s going to be a long recovery.
Dick is woken up by the sound of something breaking. He frowns and tries to sit up without disturbing the chick tucked next to him. A figure walks through the darkened doorway of the bedroom.
“Bruce?” He calls out groggily.
The lights are flipped on and Dick feels the blood drain from his face. A masked man is standing in their room but it isn’t their father.
“Oi! I found em!” The man calls out, prompting two other masked men to enter the room.
The men gather around the nest and reach in, pulling Dick out of it. He tries to fight them as best he can but he’s practically useless with his cast and sling.
“What the fuck do you want?” Dick demands as they drag him away. He hopes they won’t notice Jason tucked in the nest.
“Nothin’ personal kid, need to pay the bills and your daddy will write a fat check to get you back.”
Of course it’s a Brucie Wayne ransom situation, Dick’s familiar with them.
“Hey Rick! There’s another chick in the nest!” One of the goons call out. All the commotion must have woken Jason up because Dick can hear his alarmed peeps from the hallway.
“Leave him alone, he’s just a chick and he’s really sick!” Dick starts struggling again but a swift punch to his injured shoulder has him buckling in pain.
The other goons come out of the bedroom carrying a flustered Jason.
“Dick?” The baby bird calls out, his voice weak and frightened.
“It’s fine, Little Wing, just go along with it and Bruce’ll have us back in no time.”
At least, that’s what Dick hopes.
Despite being literal kidnappers, the goons are quite gentle with the both of them after that. When they realize the abandoned warehouse they’ve brought them too isn’t heated enough for Jason, one of them runs out and buys a little space heater.
Jason’s fever is still raging and he just curls himself tightly under Dick’s wings and lets out soft peeps every once in a while.
“‘He got that flu that’s going around?” One of the goons asks. Dick nods reluctantly, not too eager to engage with this assholes, “yeah my own chick at home caught it last week. I had to take time off of work to take care of her and I ended up losing my job.”
Ugh, Dick hates it when the idiot thugs of Gotham have understandable villain origin stories. It makes vigilante work hard. He was about to hit his panic button to call Batman but after hearing that, Dick decides not to and to wait for Bruce to pay to get them back.
Stupid morals.
Bruce shows up around dawn with a suitcase of cash (one that they keep stocked on hand for these situations) and gets his baby birds back. He warbles at Jason worryingly, his fingers carding through the chick’s wings looking for damage.
“They didn’t hurt either of you, did they?” Bruce demands to know, his searching hands moving onto Dick, looking for even a feather out of place that would let him unleash hellish fury onto their captors.
“No, just scared us a bit,” Dick admits as he’s helped by his father into the family SUV.
Bruce ends up not going out on patrol the remaining time that Alfred is gone, spending every waking moment being an overbearing doting parent to his two chicks.
Dick nearly weeps with relief when the old sea bird finally comes home.