Chapter Text
The first thing Jason did when he clawed his way back from the Pit was plan how he was going to kill the Joker.
The second thing he did was scream.
The pain had been staggering—like every nerve in his body was being torn out and replaced, one cell at a time. His mind had shattered into a thousand pieces and slammed back together too fast, too hard.
When he’d finally stopped convulsing, he was panting on the stone floor, hair wet, eyes burning. And something else— something alive —was moving behind him.
He sat up, hands dragging through slick moss and pit runoff, and looked over his shoulder.
Wings.
Huge, dark, half-folded wings.
Feathers the color of scorched bark, tipped in glowing orange like the last edge of a fire. Sparks drifted from them—quiet, lazy spirals that vanished before they touched the ground.
He moved, and they moved with him.
Not like a harness. Not like something built.
They flexed when he breathed. Responded to pain, to tension, to rage.
He didn’t need to check for wires or implants. He already knew.
These weren’t fake.
The wings were his .
No one had removed the harness when they dumped his body in the Lazarus Pit.
Ra’s and Talia—so obsessed with rebirth, with legacy, with bloodlines—they hadn’t bothered to investigate the wings.
They believed the story.
Everyone did.
Bruce. The League. The Justice League. The world.
The Robins are a dying species.
So when Jason rose, burning with fury and wings trailing sparks, they just assumed it had finally happened. That his blood had remembered its origin.
They didn’t realize it was a lie.
Jason didn’t bother correcting them.
He had other things to worry about.
He didn’t go home.
He didn’t need to.
He stayed in the shadows, stuffed his wings under a long trench coat, and stalked the worst parts of Gotham.
Crime Alley.
East End.
Old Narrows.
The places where Bruce used to patrol and never really fixed.
In three weeks, he had half the drug routes rerouted through dummy fronts that he then burned to the ground. Three major gun runners were in the hospital. One was missing a hand.
People whispered about him in back alleys and closed rooms.
“Red Hood,” they called him.
But others had started calling him something else.
Phoenix.
Because of the sparks. Because of the wings. Because of the fire.
He’d started at least two accidental building fires without even realizing it. One from a fight that ended with his feathers flaring just a little too violently. The other when he landed on a rooftop and someone opened fire—he didn’t even draw a weapon. Just flared his wings. The sparks did the rest.
Later, he discovered something strange.
The wings didn’t always have to be there.
They could vanish.
Just like his All-Blades, they answered to him.
He could summon them—call them forth from somewhere deep and unseen—and just as easily send them away.
Not stored in a pocket dimension or wrapped in tech.
They were tied to him.
To his soul.
He only used the wings when he wore the helmet.
Only when he was Red Hood .
But they were easier to keep out than in.
So if he was just lying low at his safehouse, doing recon, loading ammo?
Wings were out. Always.
It made moving easier. Made him feel less… compressed.
Without them, he passed human.
Usually.
He hadn’t meant to build a team.
But Roy showed up during a botched arms deal in Kansas. Then Kori appeared not long after, chasing some interstellar bounty with a name no one could pronounce.
Artemis came next. Bizarro followed.
Jason tolerated them. Mostly.
Until the first time he dropped down from a warehouse ledge mid-fight, wings fully out, glowing faintly, and Roy stopped cold .
“Uh,” Roy said, blinking. “That’s new.”
“Since when do you have wings?” Artemis asked, circling. “Wait. Are you one of them?”
“One of who?” Jason snapped.
“You know,” Roy said, gesturing. “ Them. Batman’s people. The bird guys.”
Kori landed beside them, eyes wide with something close to awe. “You’re one of the winged ones,” she said softly. “Like Robin. Like Nightwing.”
Jason hesitated.
And then—he didn’t correct them.
Let them believe it.
Easier that way.
They started watching him differently after that.
Not in fear—more like reverence.
They weren’t scared of him.
They were curious.
How rare was his “kind”? Did his feathers molt like Earth birds? Could he carry someone in flight? What kind of vocalizations did he make?
He hated how fascinated they were.
And he hated how much it reminded him of home.
Of what he’d lost.
They didn’t know who he was.
They didn’t know he was Robin.
That he had worn red and yellow and laughed with Dick and sparred with Bruce in the cave under the manor.
They just thought he was one of them—another elusive member of the Bat’s mythical flock.
And they didn’t understand why he hated being compared to them.
Why he snapped every time someone mentioned Robin like he was a stranger.
Because to them, Robin had died.
And Jason Todd had never existed .
Only Red Hood.
Only Phoenix .
And some days, he couldn’t decide which of those names hurt worse.
Jason didn’t know how they all ended up on the floor.
There was a couch. Two, actually. A reinforced armchair. A hover recliner from Kori’s last off-planet trip.
And yet, here they were.
Five grown adults (well— four grown adults and one genetically engineered clone baby who could crush a truck) sprawled out in a loose, half-circular mess on the floor of their safehouse common room.
Everyone was in casual clothes.
Kori in something bright and sleeveless, legs tucked under her like a cat.
Artemis in sweats, tank top, hair tied up.
Roy in jeans and a hoodie that was probably older than most of his dignity.
Bizarro wore a shirt that just said “BE NICE :)” in giant block letters.
Jason, per usual, wore black. Long sleeves. Loose pants. And the domino mask—always. The wings were out, but folded neatly behind him, feathers fanned against the floor. He sat crisscrossed with a pillow in his lap, arms loosely wrapped around it like a barrier between him and the world.
It had been a quiet hour. Kori humming softly, Roy flipping a coin between his fingers, Bizarro counting ceiling tiles with genuine fascination.
Then Jason felt it.
The stare.
A burn at the back of his neck that wasn’t hostile, but definitely intense.
He turned his head.
Roy.
Roy was trying to look casual, but his gaze kept drifting back to Jason’s wings. Like he was trying not to say something.
Jason sighed.
Loudly.
“Just get it out of your systems,” he muttered. “You’re all thinking it.”
“Thinking what?” Artemis asked, one eyebrow rising.
“The wings,” he said, deadpan. “You all want to poke them. So go ahead before one of you explodes trying to be polite.”
Kori laughed, delighted. “Well, since you offered— ”
But it was Bizarro who moved first, eyes wide.
“Is soft?” he asked, already halfway to Jason.
Jason blinked. “Uh—depends on how mad I am. But yeah. Usually.”
A massive hand reached out and—very gently—swept down the length of one wing. Jason’s feathers fluttered slightly, the sensation weirdly ticklish but not unpleasant.
“Ooooooh,” Bizarro said. “Is very soft.”
Roy edged closer. “Can I...?”
Jason waved a hand. “Sure, join the petting zoo.”
Roy reached out, cautiously at first—then more confidently once he saw Jason didn’t flinch.
He ran two fingers along a primary feather, then paused. Adjusted one that was out of alignment.
Then another.
He tilted his head. “This one’s all bent outta place. How are you not going crazy?”
Jason shrugged. “I am. I’ve just accepted that madness is my default setting.”
Roy scoffed, but he didn’t stop.
In fact, he got weirdly focused.
He started smoothing, straightening, preening.
Like it was second nature.
Jason felt a hand gently fluff the covert layer near the joint and had to fight the immediate instinct to melt into the carpet.
His arms tightened around the pillow.
Roy was humming under his breath now.
Kori was watching with her chin in her hands and a slow, knowing smirk spreading across her face.
Jason shifted slightly, and Roy made a soft noise of protest. “Hold still. This one’s being annoying.”
“You sound like my dentist.”
“There. Got it.” Roy gently nudged a feather back into perfect alignment.
The relief was so immediate, so visceral , Jason had to bite his lip and bury his face in the pillow to stop the full-body noise from escaping.
Kori snorted.
“Oh,” she said sweetly, “I’ve seen this ritual before. On Silra-9, winged courtships often begin with careful grooming by a potential mate. It’s a very intimate—”
Jason’s head shot up and he scowled at her, face still half-smushed into the pillow. “Kori. I will burn your favorite throw blanket.”
She raised both brows. “Do not be ashamed. I think it’s sweet.”
Roy just laughed, completely unbothered, fingers now trailing down the edge feathers like he was untangling fishing line. “You’ve got, like, five rogue feathers on the other side too, Hood. You really don’t do maintenance, huh?”
Jason gave up.
He let himself collapse forward, wings flaring out lazily to either side of him, head resting on his crossed arms and face safely hidden from view.
The pillow was abandoned. His whole body sagged into the floor.
“If I stop moving, assume I’m dead or just very, very relaxed.”
Bizarro laid down beside him, stroking one wing like it was a therapy dog. “Redbird good. We keep.”
Artemis rolled her eyes. “You’re all insane.”
Jason’s muffled voice drifted up from the carpet. “Takes one to cuddle one.”
“Then I shall absolutely join,” Kori said, grinning.
Jason’s eyes cracked open just in time to see a blur of orange hair and pink pajamas descending from above.
“Wait—wait— Kori— ”
Too late.
She stretched out with all the grace of someone who’d never heard of personal space and sprawled right across his back. Her chin rested between his shoulder blades, just above the wing joints, her legs draped lazily down his sides.
Jason wheezed.
“Oof.”
“Comfortable,” she purred, already closing her eyes like this was just normal Tuesday behavior.
Jason, under normal circumstances, might have had something to say about it.
But her body was warm, and he didn’t hate the contact.
So he let it slide.
Until she shifted.
Rolled slightly, just enough to lean her weight onto the upper arc of his right wing—
And pressed.
A sharp, sudden pain lanced down his spine, straight through the wing and into his chest like lightning.
He hissed—fast and sharp—and tried to adjust, but the angle was wrong and his ribs wouldn’t cooperate.
“Kori,” he gritted. “Off. Now.”
Kori blinked, startled. “Oh—did I—?”
Before she could finish, Bizarro gently reached to help move her—
Too gently.
His hand slipped.
Kori rolled again.
And with a loud, wet pop , Jason’s right wing dislocated.
Pain.
Immediate.
Blinding.
Worse than any shoulder. Worse than anything he’d felt in a long time.
It felt like the wing had been ripped out at the base, like nerves were being shredded under his skin. The limb twitched violently once—then went limp.
Jason barely managed to bite back a scream.
He curled in on himself, twisting to get pressure off the joint, gasping hard.
“Shit—” Roy was already scrambling to his knees. “ Hood? Hey, hey—what happened?”
“I— fuck —” Jason pressed his forehead to the floor, voice tight, shaking. “It’s out. It’s out. ”
“His wing?” Kori said, horrified. “I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t—don’t touch it—” Jason’s breath hitched. He could feel the tremor in his back, the wrongness of the joint, the way the nerves kept firing like it was still under pressure.
He tasted bile.
Bizarro dropped to the ground beside him, genuinely distraught. “Redbird hurt? Me sorry. Me so sorry—me no mean—”
“I know ,” Jason ground out. “Not— not your fault. Just—give me a minute—”
Roy hovered helplessly, eyes wide. “Jesus, it’s like a socket and a spine— is this what it’s like every time one of you— ”
“Yes,” Jason hissed. “Welcome to the magic of avian anatomy.”
Artemis knelt down beside them, her expression unusually gentle. “Is there anything we can do?”
Jason didn’t respond right away.
His breath came in shallow pulls, forehead still pressed to the cool floor. The pain was white-hot and insistent, a high-pitched whine in the back of his skull that made it hard to think.
But he had thought about this before.
He’d researched it.
A dislocation wasn’t common —the wings were built into him now, reinforced, durable—but in theory, he’d always known it could happen. Especially in a fight. Or—apparently—during a well-intentioned cuddle pile.
“…I know how to fix it,” he rasped, voice hoarse.
Artemis leaned in slightly. “Tell me what to do.”
Jason slowly shifted his weight onto his good side, wing dragging uselessly across the floor behind him. “It’s the right wing. Top joint. You’ll feel where it’s out of socket—it’ll be hot and tight and wrong.”
Artemis nodded, steady. “Okay.”
“Your grip needs to be firm,” he continued through gritted teeth. “Not too hard. You’re not trying to tear it off. Just… fast. Sharp angle. You’ll feel it give.”
Roy hovered nearby, silent now, brow furrowed with guilt. Kori stayed back, her fingers twisting nervously. Bizarro, still curled close, watched with wide, worried eyes.
Artemis knelt beside the dislocated wing. Her hands were cool and calm as they ghosted over the injured limb, searching.
Jason sucked in a breath as her fingers found the swollen joint.
“Got it,” she said softly.
“On three,” he said, already bracing his body against the floor. “One—”
Pop.
There was no three.
Jason’s entire body arched with the shock of it, a ragged cry torn from his throat before he could catch it.
Then he collapsed, arms shaking, chest heaving.
The pain didn’t vanish—but it changed.
From sharp and ripping to deep and dull.
Manageable.
Realigned.
He let his head fall back to the floor, breath escaping in a slow, broken exhale. “Okay. Okay. That’s better.”
Bizarro stood up with a grunt, already moving toward the kitchen. “Me get ice. Redbird need.”
Jason gave a soft, exhausted chuckle into the floor. “Thanks, big guy.”
Artemis helped adjust the wing gently, folding it in close.
Jason stayed on his stomach, cheek pressed to the tile, arms limp.
“Next time,” he muttered, voice dry, “remind me to install a no-pile-on policy.”
Heavy footsteps padded back across the room. Then a weightless touch, careful and reverent, pressed something cold and blessedly numbing to the burning joint in his right wing.
Jason exhaled hard. “Thanks, big guy.”
“Welcome,” Bizarro said, kneeling beside him like he might shatter if he moved wrong. “Redbird brave. Ice help.”
Jason let the wing settle back in, the ache dulled to a deep throb. The cold helped. So did the quiet, and the fact no one had made any jokes in at least sixty seconds.
Then he felt Artemis shift closer, lowering herself gently to the floor at his side. She didn’t say anything. Just lay on her back beside his injured wing, close enough to monitor it, far enough not to touch.
Jason cracked his eyes open.
The others were still sitting nearby—Kori, Roy, Bizarro—all watching him like uncertain forest animals waiting for a sign.
He snorted. “You all look like I’m gonna revoke cuddle privileges.”
Roy raised both hands. “I was concerned about maiming you.”
“Flattering,” Jason muttered.
He shifted his left wing—the good one—and slowly extended it outward. It flared softly over the floor, arching like a quiet invitation.
Kori lit up.
She actually made a sound , a little gasping squeak that only encouraged Bizarro, who looked one blink away from happy tears.
Roy’s brows lifted, but the smile that curled on his face was warmer than Jason expected.
No one said anything too sentimental.
They just moved in.
Kori first, flopping down with the grace of someone used to zero-gravity pillows, her head tucked beneath the arch of the wing like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Bizarro curled next, arms loose at his chest, lying flat on his back with a massive grin on his face.
Roy took his time, easing down beside them, eyes flicking to Jason’s face once before settling in. His shoulder brushed Jason’s elbow.
The wing stretched out fully now, soft and warm, draped over the three of them like a weighted blanket built for weirdos and outlaws.
Jason let his head sink into the crook of his arms and just… breathed.
No one had ever curled under his wing like this before.
He’d never let anyone.
It felt… ridiculous.
And warm.
And weirdly safe.
“On Silra-9,” Kori began, her voice low and dreamy, “this would be considered the start of a long-term communal bond unit.”
Jason didn’t even lift his head. “Kori…”
She went on anyway.
“There’s a tradition where the winged partner rests their feathers over the others as a symbol of shared protection and intimacy. Sometimes it’s ceremonial. Sometimes it’s just romantic. Sometimes it’s for naps.”
Roy smothered a laugh into his hoodie sleeve.
Jason groaned. “If I start glowing and wake up married to you all, I’m going back in time and choking you with my bare hands.”
“That is not how the ritual works,” Kori said primly. “But it would be considered rude to remove your wing now.”
Bizarro looked up, eyes wide. “We part of Redbird flock?”
Jason blinked, startled.
And then—quietly, almost inaudibly—he said, “Yeah.”
“Cool,” Roy said, smiling faintly. “You make a good blanket, Hood.”
Jason snorted against his arms. “You snore.”
Roy scoffed. “Yeah, well, you sparkle. We all have flaws.”
“Technically, the sparks aren’t my fault,” Jason muttered, voice muffled. “They’re… ambient combustion. Thermal byproduct.”
Bizarro, half-asleep already, gave a thumbs-up without opening his eyes. “Pretty sparks. Good warm.”
Despite the earlier injury—and the accidental wing dislocation—Jason could feel their curiosity creeping back in.
The others didn’t mean to stare, but they did.
He could feel it in the way Roy shifted against the floor. How Artemis kept glancing toward the arch of his wing. Kori, of course, didn’t bother to hide her fascination.
“You guys have literally touched every part of these wings tonight,” Jason grumbled, feathers twitching around them. “I don’t know what’s left to inspect.”
Roy, still nestled under the wing, turned his head to glance up at Jason’s face. “Not true. You haven’t exactly explained how they work. Like, they just spark whenever you feel something? What happens if you—”
Jason made the mistake of looking over at him mid-sentence.
Roy froze.
Then blinked.
“…Wait. Open your mouth.”
Jason blinked back, confused. “What? No.”
“Open. Your. Mouth.”
“I swear to God, Harper—”
Too late.
Roy reached up and stuck two fingers right in .
Jason made a startled, choked noise somewhere between a protest and a yelp, wings flaring a little in surprise.
“Holy shit ,” Roy said, eyes wide, leaning in. “You’ve got fangs. ”
“Thay’re noth—shuth up— Roy— ” Jason mumbled around his fingers.
Roy, completely oblivious to the fact that his fingers were in Jason’s actual mouth , gently ran one across the edge of a fang.
Jason flushed immediately, heat crawling up the back of his neck, ears going red. He made a noise that sounded like, “Thih ith inapprophiate! ”
Artemis raised an eyebrow.
Kori pressed a hand to her mouth and gave Artemis a knowing look.
They didn’t say anything.
Not yet.
“Man,” Roy muttered, frowning in awe, “these are sharp. You could bite through steel with these. Do they grow when you’re mad? What happens if you snarl? Do they glow? You know you could absolutely destroy someone’s love life just by smirking— shit. ”
One of his fingers jerked back. A drop of blood welled up where the tip had pricked on the fang.
Jason jolted, wings twitching.
Roy pulled his hand out and examined it with mild confusion. “You bit me.”
“You shoved your fingers in my mouth!”
Roy held up his bleeding finger. “Yeah, well, some of us are curious, Red! ”
Jason rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Curious little shit…”
But even as he said it, he could still taste the blood.
Roy’s blood.
It wasn’t much—barely a drop. Just enough to smear the edge of a fang, to sit warm on his tongue like something he wasn’t supposed to want.
And that was the problem.
Because Jason did want.
Not a lot. Not enough to scare himself.
But just enough that the Lazarus Pit inside him noticed.
A flicker. A flare. Like a pilot light catching flame.
The fire bloomed low in his chest, curling around his ribs like a yawn he couldn’t shake.
And then—his vision shifted.
The world darkened at the edges, and everything near the center sharpened—too sharp, too clear. He could hear Roy’s heartbeat. Could smell the iron.
He knew, before anyone said anything, that his eyes had gone green.
Not the natural, soft green that Bruce or Tim had—no.
The Pit green.
The toxic , unnatural shade that glowed from within like radioactivity behind bone.
Jason didn’t move.
He stayed still. Focused on breathing.
One. Two. Inhale.
Three. Four. Exhale.
His jaw ached with restraint. His wings trembled once, then steadied.
Around him, he could feel it— them —all tensing.
Kori sat upright.
Artemis was already subtly shifting to a crouch, not aggressive—just ready.
Bizarro, still lying nearby, frowned in concern. “Redbird?”
Roy—closest of all—went still as stone.
Jason didn’t say anything.
Didn’t need to.
The glow in his eyes flickered… then dimmed.
Like someone had flipped a switch.
He exhaled through his nose. “I’m fine.”
No one moved for a second.
Then Roy, slowly, cautiously, said, “Was that—was that because of the blood?”
Jason hesitated.
Then nodded once. “Mostly.”
“The Pit likes to light up when I’m mad. Or scared. Or when something hits too close to the bone.” He paused. “Or when someone sticks their fingers in my mouth and bleeds on me, Harper. ”
Roy winced. “Okay—fair. That one’s on me.”
Kori relaxed first, sprawling back onto the floor. “You were very into his fangs,” she said sweetly.
Jason groaned. “Kori, no—”
But she turned toward Roy, chin in her hands, eyes wide and utterly unbothered. “It was like watching a human toddler discover a shiny knife. You were just— enthralled. ”
“I was curious! ” Roy snapped, clearly flustered. “They’re sharp! And pointy! And honestly kind of cool! That doesn’t mean I’ve got some weird tooth kink—”
“You did keep touching them,” Artemis added, entirely unhelpful.
“You were practically purring,” Kori added.
“I— what— ” Roy pointed at Jason. “ He was the one who bit me!”
Jason, now flat on his stomach again, wings splayed out, mumbled into his pillow, “You put your fingers in my mouth, Harper. That’s on you.”
“I said it was cool!” Roy flailed. “What’s wrong with you people?!”
“You like sharp things,” Artemis said with a shrug. “It tracks.”
“I’m a weapons expert! ”