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Summary:

Now that the magic user is in JL custody, the reversal ritual is complete, and according to the greatest magical resources the Bats had available, Gotham will be returning to normal upon the strike of midnight. Dick Grayson has one last mystery to uncover.

 

DickBabsWeek Day 4: Falling | Flying

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“This might clear the top 10 stupidest thing I’ve dealt with,” Jason grumbles as he pulls off his helmet, careful not to snap his new appendages.

Dick snorts, feathers fluffing before settling against his back as he twists to catch another look at Jason’s wittle wabbit tail. Tim, famous for lack of self-preservation, reaches out to bat lightly at the floppy rabbit ears growing out of Jason’s hair.

“Stop that,” Jason snarls. Usually Jason was very good at intimidation—his size alone enough to make most people back down. So it is shocking how much all of it is undone by the ears.

Tim coos, clawed fingers digging lightly into Jason’s cheeks as he pulls his older brother closer, tail twitching dangerously. 

“Do not stalk your brother,” Bruce cuts in, raven wings stretching before settling against his back. 

“But Daaaaaad,” Tim whines, pouting, panther ears pinned against his head for added effect. 

“No,” Bruce warns. 

Somewhere above, amongst the stalactites, Cass snickers. Dick cranes his neck back trying to spy her amongst the darkness, a futile effort before she acquired giant bat wings.

Damian snorts, stomping back into the main hall of the cave, feathered dragging behind him. “We can only expect so much from the Stalker.” 

Tim sticks his tongue out as he disengages Jason, pupils dilating at the sight of Damian’s colorful, shimmering tail. 

“Do not,” Damian raises a taloned finger. 

Tim flexes his claws. 

“Master Timothy,” Alfred calls out. “Mr. Dowd is on the phone for you.” 

Tim’s attention successfully diverted, Dick kicks off the console, stretching his wings. “B, you need me?” 

Bruce grunts a dismissal. 

Dick flashes him a quick smile before heading to his bike. “Keep’em from killing each other, Jay.” 

“I promise nothing,” Jason calls back as Dick kicks off and heads into the city.

The latest craze to hit Gotham started six days ago. Whatever intention the magical nuisance of the week had had was lost in the ensuing chaos as sixty percent of the population woke up with animal appendages. 

(Of course, the one weekend he decided to visit home resulted in extra limbs.)

All that to say, the Bats had been busy. Calming the public, tracking down the magic user, and arranging for a cure had dominated every waking moment of Dick’s life from the second he woke up last Saturday morning. He’d had to cancel game night with the Titans, rearrange his work schedule (luckily, giant bird wings was a valid medical excuse to stay home), and cancel date night. 

The last one had stung the most. 

Not that he hadn’t spoken to Barbara, though it was better to say not that Nightwing hadn’t spoken to Oracle. She had been integral in keeping the city semi-functional, maintaining communication amongst the various emergency services, issuing city-wide statements, and keeping the JL up to date with the latest and greatest of Gotham chaos while B fought to keep his nesting instincts at a minimum. 

(It had been nice waking up in Bruce’s nest, surrounded by his family. It had been less nice when his father insisted on smothering him with his wings.) 

Now, the magic user is in JL custody. The reversal ritual is complete. And, according to the greatest magical resources they had available, Gotham would be returning to normal upon the strike of midnight. 

Which left one last mystery to uncover. 

He doesn’t bother knocking. The window is unlatched. It takes a little more effort than usual to climb through, having to maneuver his second shoulder blades through the gap. 

“Babs,” he calls out, a matter of politeness. 

The apartment is dark. The open layout loft had very few doors to hide behind. Only the light above the stove and Oracle’s work station remained on. He stands still, waiting. 

Finally, a soft thud from the bedroom and the creaking of a door gives away her position. Still, Dick waits for her to come to him. 

Oracle had been tightlipped about what animal the spell had given her. Blood had explained that the animal traits represent  the dominant aspects of their souls: Tim, the crafty hunter, Bruce, the family-oriented puzzle solver, Damian with his confidence and insight. Jason, defined by new beginnings. Cass, their silent protector. 

No one had questioned when Dick grew feathers. It took him some time to figure out his markings though Tim, an avid birder, must have known and stayed tight lipped. At first, he thought he was a raven, like Bruce (which had made him feel very complicated). But further research showed he was a Bat Falcone, a bird associated with messaging between the living and the dead, an inspiration of hope and protection. It's flattering. He doesn’t know if he agrees, but it's a nice thought.

“Dick,” Barbara calls out. “If you laugh, I will kill you.”

 “I would never. Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

The lights come on. Babs is wearing pajamas, clearly ready to go to bed. Her hair is still slightly damp, curling around her shoulders. Her cheeks flushed from the heat of her shower. Though its all a little hard to focus on considering the giant elephant ears that dominate her head.

Unable to help himself, Dick struts closer, “Ignoring the elephant in the room, its wonderful to see you, Babs.” 

“I hate you,” she deadpans, turning away and heading towards the kitchen. “I'm making a coffee.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Dick hops over, “We both know my sense of humor is tusk-tacular.” 

“That was weak,” Barbara chuckles. “Decafe or regular?” 

“It’s 9pm,” Dick hopes onto the counter. “Regular, please.” 

“Are you going to tell anyone?” 

“That you’re known for your nurturing leadership and long memory?” Dick shrugs casually. “Yeah.”

“How many photos have you taken?” Barbara asks as she pulls out the cold brew. 

“My video camera has been on this whole time.” Dick confirms. “Already autobacked up to the cave. I’m sure Tim has seen the photos.” 

As if on cue, his phone pings. 

“I’m Oracle,” she warns.

“Can’t ctrl-delete my memories,” Dick accepts the glass. Two pumps of simple syrup and a splash of whole milk, just how he likes it. 

She rolls her eyes but accepts defeat for now. 

There is a moment of silence as they bask in each other's company. The city is quiet. All the criminals are exhausted from the chaos of the past week. The citizens taking the chance to have a breather before they return to normal tomorrow. 

Tomorrow he will head back to Blud and see what has happened to his city in his absence, what crimes he’ll have to catch up on, and what apologies Dick Grayson will have to make to reset his civilian life. But for now, he is at peace with his girlfriend. 

Until he notices her eyeing his wings, gaze lingering with a heaviness that isn’t hard to identify. 

Dick sets his half empty cup down, opening his wings slightly so the flight feathers drag along the countertop. “Do you want to go flying?”

Barbara doesn’t bother playing dumb. 

“I don’t know,” she admits, setting her own glass aside. “I just wish I got wings.” 

Dick nods in acceptance, slipping off the counter. He opens his arms, “I would love to take you.” 

She huffs, looking away for a moment. He waits, keeping his arms open, letting her decide. 

“Okay,” she turns to look at him, longing sharp in her eyes. “Take me flying.” 

.

Gotham falls away beneath them.

Flight isn’t new to him. He has flown with Supers and other heroes, felt the world give way, gravity turning meaningless under their meta powers. But this is different—taking to the open sky under his own power, feeling gravity pull and defying it all the same. He pumps his wings, taking them higher. The smog perpetually smothering Gotham thins into a thread of clouds, and the moon hangs clear above them. The neon lights of the city glitter below, a twinkling reflection of the stars overhead.

“It’s beautiful,” Barbara whispers from the safety of his arms.

“It really is.” He will miss this. Despite all the chaos and effort and sleepless nights of the last week, he will miss flying. 

They glide. The cold winds nip at their cheeks. All the worlds problems and demands falling away as they breathe in the sights. 

Gently, he shifts Barbara in his arms. 

“Dick…” 

He tilts left, feeling the air shift around them. 

“Dick.”

He smirks, “Hold on.” 

“Dick Grayson!” 

They drop. Wind roars past as he picks up speed before snapping his wings open, twisting them into a barrel roll. 

Barbara screams in his ears. 

He laughs. 

He pulls them into a graceful arch, gains altitude, then sends them into a spinning drop, cackling as he feels Barbara’s elephant ears slap him in the face and her nails claw into his shoulders. 

“I will haunt you,” she screams above the rush of wind. “If you drop me, I will come back and ruin your life!” 

Dick just laughs louder. 

With one last flip and flourish, he pulls them steady, evening out until they are back to gliding above the skyline. 

Barbara is breathing hard. “You know what,” she gasps, leaning against him. “That’s on me. I should have known better.” 

Dick chuckles, smiling so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt. “You really should have.” 

Barbara laughs, shaking her head. “Gods above…you absolute showoff.” 

Dick leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Your showoff.”

 

 

Notes:

Inspired very heavily by BoP #8! I wanted to capture some of that romantic sweetness <3

See you all for Day 5!

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