Archive of Our Own ^beta

Central City has a decently sized population of peregrine falcons. They’re not very good conversationalists, nor are they very social, but they won’t chase him off(even during the breeding season) they give him advice and information whenever he asks, and they can identify him regardless of his current form.

Owlkiller was one of the more infamous peregrines in the city. Falcons don’t really have names, but they do have titles if they’ve earned them, and Owlkiller had killed four different owls over her six years of life, earning a number of scars.

They were as much friends as falcons could be, especially since she was the one to teach him how to fly and hunt properly.

That still didn’t explain why she was giving him her children.

“When you told me you had something to give me, I didn’t expect this.”

“One special. Can feel.” She jabs her beak in the direction of the nest where three eggs lie. “Mate dead. Cannot raise special child alone. Flash-Faster-Than-Sky can raise special child. They are yours now.”

“I can’t take care of them!” Barry protests. “I have zero idea how to take care of human children, nevermind falcon children!”

Owlkiller pauses to think. “Will come. Will find place for my nest in your territory.”

“You’re…moving in with me.”

“Yes. Special child will need more food, more time to grow. Cannot do by myself.”

“What happens if I don’t take them?”

“Break special egg. Has two siblings.” Owlkiller taps her foot. “Do not want to break special egg. Siblings will be stronger, smarter if kept.”

“Fine.” Barry brings the eggs back home one at a time, which only takes about eight seconds total. 

By the time Owlkiller arrives on his balcony, Barry has already googled peregrine falcon nesting sites, purchased and assembled a nest box and stress-eaten two boxes of Oreos and half a rotisserie chicken.

Trying not to focus on the fact that he has zero idea how he’s going to explain it or its occupants, Barry gestures to the box. “This will be your nest. Where do you want me to put it?”

“Inside house, near window.”

Barry attaches the box to an empty spot under his dining room window, scrapes out a small depression in the sand at the bottom and sets the eggs inside.

“I will incubate, you will hunt.”

“I’m not your mate, though?”

“You are not. You are still caretaker.” Owlkiller confirms. “You can hunt as human. I am falcon always.”

“Fair.” Barry admits. “Do you want ground beef or chicken breast?”

“Prey is prey.”

“Chicken it is.”

Barry: [Image: The inside of a plywood nesting box filled with silt and three pale brown eggs blotched with reddish-brown in it.]

Barry: Owlkiller dumped them on me

Barry: Help

Barry: I’m not ready to be a father

Iris: Did you start dating a bird without telling us?

Barry: NO

Barry: they’re not bio-mine

Barry: she just gave me her children and told me they’re mine now

Iris: sure she did

Hal: He’s not lying.

Hal: Even if the decision to just accept is a little bit questionable.

Barry: the other option was her just tossing them

Hal: Is she still sticking around?

Barry: she’s living in our house now

Iris: if she breaks anything, you’re paying for it

Hal: Have you picked names?

Barry: i’ll wait until they hatch

Barry: in case one doesn’t

They might currently be pink slimy blobs, but his chicks are the most adorable things on the planet, and Barry will absolutely rip anything that might hurt them to bloody shreds. 

Hal looks slightly bemused. “Barry, you know they’re not actually your children, right?”

Barry flares his wings, eyes contracting to pinpricks. “They are mine.” he chirps.

“Uh, Barry? They’re not-”

“Fine, they’re ours.” Barry corrects. Hal has just as much claim to them as he does, after all.

“Barry, you…actually, there’s nothing I can really say.” Hal pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Those are our children now. Sure.”

“They’re also Owlkiller’s.” Barry points out.

“They are.” Owlkiller confirms. “But they are also yours. This is good. More parents can hunt for more food. Special child will need more food.”

Iris is very insistent that he has to sleep in their bed as a human, and not in the nesting box. She is also insistent that he has to sleep at all, despite the fact that it’s only been 28 hours since he last slept. Owlkiller is, surprisingly, in favor of this plan.

Barry is very much not, but he was outvoted. He is also incredibly jealous of the fact that Hal gets to be a cat and he doesn’t. (“He already has an established identity as our cat, Barry, and human Hal isn’t supposed to be in our house, while you are expected to be here and not an animal.” Iris argues.)

At least he remembered to name his children. Don and Dawn for the non-special children, and Bart for the special child. 

The chicks fledge and grow quickly, turning from pink slimy blobs into gray fluffy blobs within only a few days.

Barry spends as much time as he can with them, preening their developing down and feeding them(by the normal methods for a bird parent, obviously. It’s easier and healthier to just feed them by instinct as a falcon instead of trying to figure out how to feed them as a human.) 

As soon as he gets home, he pulls out a section of meat, turns into a peregrine falcon and feeds his chicks. Sometimes he turns back into a human afterwards, sometimes he stays a falcon. 

And it's wonderful.

So. Barry really should have considered the fact that Owlkiller calls both him and Bart special and the fact that it’s possible to cast magic as an animal in the first place might mean that Bart can copy the shapeshifting spell.

It’s kind of too late to consider that, considering that Bart, who was supposed to be a three-week-old peregrine falcon chick, is currently a two-year-old human toddler.

Bart grins and zooms out of the room, barely restrained from leaving the house by Barry’s hand grabbing his shoulder. Correction, two-year-old speedster toddler.

Dick sets up the paperwork for Bart being Barry and Iris’s adopted son in only a few hours, even going behind Bruce’s back. That’s the easiest part of having a newfound half-human child.

Iris is very suspicious for several minutes, especially since Bart seems to have copied Barry’s blond hair, blue eyes and general facial features. Thankfully, Wally and Dick manage to convince her that it’s definitely possible for an animal to learn magic if they have some innately- especially if someone regularly casts the same spell in front of them while in the same shape.

Bart does not really grasp the concept that most people can’t turn into animals and back, and find it incredibly unusual. (That’s probably because Barry and Hal shift between being humans and being animals extremely casually, Dick and Wally often travel to Barry’s house as peregrine falcons instead of humans and Iris doesn’t really bat an eye at the casual use of magic in the house, even if she doesn’t use it much herself.)

Thankfully, Barry does eventually manage to get him to understand the concept, though he still acts more like a bird than a human even in human form. 

Bart ages a lot faster than he should. Then again, his true form is a peregrine falcon, so obviously he’d age like a falcon.

Weirdly enough, once he’s eight weeks old and looks around thirteen, he stops growing as fast, even as a falcon. Owlkiller says that it’s normal for special children, and that he will likely stay biologically thirteen until he is chronologically thirteen, then age as a human.

“Dick, why did you teach him wind magic?” Barry asks.

“It was Wally!” Dick protests. “I had nothing to do with it!”

“Wally, why did you teach him wind magic?”

“It’s useful, even just the base form!” Wally defends.

“The base form got him mistaken for Weather Wizard!” Barry shouts.

“It’s useful! It’ll save his life someday!” Wally protests. “Plus, you know it!”

“I’m thirty years old and I know things like subtlety, moderation and why it’s a bad idea to create a minor windstorm in the middle of a public park. Bart is three months old, a bird and required half an hour of explanation to grasp the basic concept that most people can’t turn into birds at will.”

“Well, it’s done now, and all we can do is try to teach him moderation and subtlety.” Dick points out.

“Which I am going to be doing, and not Wally.” Barry says firmly.

“Hey, I can totally teach moderation and subtlety!” 

“Remind me again how the South Missouri Fissure came to exist?”

Wally winces. “Okay, fair.”

“Can I be a hero like you? Please? Please?” Bart asks. 

“Uh…” Barry blinks.

“Pleeeeaaase?”

“Um…I guess…”

“Yay!”