Work Text:
"Focus on the positive," Jason said brightly from where he was sat on the edge of Tim's bed. "You don't have to go to the gala anymore!"
Tim groaned in response, nearly hitting knocking his skull on the headboard as he did so.
"Not positive enough?" Jason guessed, barely supressing a smirk.
"Jasooooon," Tim said, drawing out his brother's name in a whine. "If I could exchange being stuck in bed for the Gala, I would. In. A. Heartbeat. Because going to the Gala would mean I was also able to go places, do Red Robin duties, and be in my own apartment."
"Okay, fair enough, that does suck," Jason allowed. "Alfred's chicken soup and Bruce's permission to veg out on reality tv instead of going out every night is just so hard."
Tim rolled his eyes. "If all you have to offer is sarcasm, you can leave. You and I both know you'd be going just as crazy being stuck here."
"Sure, being stuck in the manor would drive me up a wall. But I'm not you or Dickhead. I actually like being idle from time-to-time."
"Not for weeks on end. The only thing I'm allowed to do is pee."
Jason glanced at the files and laptop that Tim had hastily shoved to the side when he came in. "Untrue. It's not like you're not working."
"As much as I love research," Tim started, earning him a derisive snort from his brother that he chose to ignore, "I also like a healthy balance of kicking ass."
"Sure, Timmy, sure," Jason said soothingly. He stood up and patted the space next to Tim's cast, which still sent a twinge of pain up his leg, before turning to leave. "In that case, maybe don't act like an idior and fall down stairs resulting in a broken leg in the future, yeah?"
"I wasn't even being dumb! My socks were just too slippy!" Tim yelled defensively at Jason's retreating back. All he earned was a cackle and a closed door.
He groaned again, this time managing to hit his head soundly in his dramatics. Grumbling, he grabbed his pile from the desk and resumed his Chopped marathon.
"I hate going to Gotham," Peter grumbled, shoving the last of his clothes into the suitcase.
"Relax," Natasha said, examining her nails. Peter had no idea how she kept them so perfectly manicured through all of the ass kicking and explosions.
(He'd ask but she was so secretive that he could only assume she'd give him a cryptic answer. Peter knew three things about Natasha. One, she was Black Widow. Two, she was Russian. Three, she only told Clint anything more than that.)
"I am relaxed," Peter said, tone decidely anything but. "It's not like every time we go to Gotham someone almost dies or anything."
She rolled her eyes. "We're not even going there for a mission, Peter."
He still packed his suit, because the odds of spending a night in Gotham without combat were even lower than the odds of Natasha suddenly opening up to him about her beauty routine.
Peter zipped his suitcase shut and sat on top of it. "Remind me again why we're going?"
"Clint's dating a guy from Gotham."
"Right, Jason Todd. But why are we going?"
Natasha sighed. "Because, Peter, we were invited."
"I'm not an idiot, I understand there was an invitation," Peter countered, arms crossed in annoyance. "I just don't know why I was on the invitation."
"Technically you weren't, Tony was. But he's busy and you are the 'future of Stark Industries,'" Natasha said, air quotes around the title. "So you have to go in his place."
Peter knew he'd regret accepting that position, though he didn't think that galas would be the reason behind it. "Well, fine," he finally replied, barely supressing his sarcasm. "Thanks for breaking it down for me."
Natasha rose from her perch on his desk and patted his arm. "Anytime, Parker. I understand that your autism needs things spelled out for you."
"What the fuck?"
"What?"
"You're so… blunt sometimes. Like that wasn't really a necessary statement, Natasha."
She raised a brow. "I was spelling it out for you," she repeated. Before he could argue out he didn't need his own neurodivergences spelled out, she asked, "ready?"
Peter sighed. "Yeah, I'm ready."
Tim was very grateful for an empty manor when he woke up from his painkiller induced nap to a pair of beedy eyes and a beak pressed against his cheek. The shriek he let out was enough to wake the dead and would have brought the entire family running.
The goose was entirely unbothered.
He pinched himself, squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them again. Nope, goose was still there, sitting on his desk and staring seeminly into his very soul.
"Uuuuuuuh," Tim said.
"Honk!" The goose replied, flapping it wings a little.
"Hi?"
"Honk!"
Tim was very unsure where to go from here. He couldn't exactly usher the animal from his room. As grateful as he was for the empty manor when he'd let out his high pitched noises, he would have liked some assistance here. Which… wait.
"How did you get in here?" Tim mused. The goose titled its head. Which, okay, he didn't expect it to speak. Tim looked at the closed door of his bedroom, the closed windows, and back to the goose. His mind was racing, trying to figure out all possible explanations for this.
He grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of the offending creature, who continued to just stare with an eerie purpose at him.
(Bat)brothers
Tim: [picture of goose]
Tim: which one of you punks put a goose in my room while I was sleeping?
Damian: I'm at school, Drake. It would be foolish to leave school grounds to prank you.
Jason: as fucking hiLARIOUS as this is not it
Dick: im coming home 4 the gala but im still in bh
Tim: how the fuck did this get here???? damian did you at least get a new pet or something?
Damian: I would not own a goose.
Dick: y not???
Damian: They are hostile creatures.
Dick: omg timmy did it hurt u?
Tim: No, it just keeps staring at me…
Jason: how did it get in?
Tim: would I have texted you about this if I knew???
Jason: i guess not?
Tim: this was unhelpful, thanks.
Dick: 👍
Jason: 🖕
Damian: I need to focus on mathematics now. Goodbye.
Tim considered the goose again, who had not yet moved from its place or stopped staring at him. His brothers were no help, Bruce would probably just remove the goose from his room, and Alfred would be horrified at the unsanitary nature of a loose bird in the manor. Steph and Duke had swung an off-planet mission just to avoid tonight's gala, so neither of them could have done this. And Cass would never pull a prank like this, though she might have an idea of how to corral a goose safely. The thing was, Tim wasn't reaching out to Bruce yet because he wanted an answer first on the how of the goose. If it wasn't one of his brothers pranking him, how did it get in his room?
Maybe pondering the how wasn't worth it because it would just drive him up a wall. Pondering the why would likely do the same but maybe there was something online about magical geese teleporting into locked spaces?
Tim very gingerely reached around the goose for his laptop. Again, it fluttered its wings at him with a resounding honk but it did not bite at him, which was a plus considering how aggressive the species could be. He nodded to the goose, unsure of what else to do, and pulled open his browser.
Thirty minutes later and Tim was no closer to answers. There were stories of geese leading adventurers to fortune. Stories of geese appearing to lead you to your soulmate. And there were a few accounts of loved ones turning into geese. Tim ruled that one out, as none of his family members would sit and stare at him like this. They were too annoying. Which meant it had to be one of the first two.
The problem was, Tim couldn't get out of bed. So whether the goose was supposed to lead him to fortune or a soulmate, he couldn't exactly follow. The stories of fortune were familiar, but that seemed unlikely, too. Tim was already well-off before Bruce took him in. The Drake-Wayne inheritence and privilege did not exactly add up to a fortune seeking adventure. Which really meant… well, nothing. He'd never heard of a soulmate goose before but Tim was about 90% sure soulmates didn't exist. If they did, he'd have heard of this before his internet deep dive. Before a goose appeared in his room.
He shut his laptop again. "You should probably leave," he told the goose.
"Honk! Honk!" Tim thought the way it flapped its wings this time was almost aggressive.
"I can't even get out of bed," he said, gesturing to his elevated and casted leg.
The goose looked and honked again.
"Well, I do get up to pee, but it's like… right there!" Tim protested, pointing to the door of his ensuite bathroom.
Another honk.
"I don't know what you want!"
"Honk!"
"I can't go anywhere!"
"Honk!"
Tim shrieked again, this time in frustration instead of fear. "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"
"HONK!"
"Is Gotham known for having a lot of geese?" Peter asked, holding out a hand to assist Natasha from the limo.
She took it, despite not needing it, allowing him to help her out in her precarious (to the unknowing eye) heels. Her eyebrow raise was skeptical. "Not particularly?"
Peter jerked his chin to the lawn of the Wayne Manor, where a goose stood. If he didn't know any better, he'd think it was looking right at him. Natasha followed his gaze as he said, "I swear I have seen a goose everywhere we've gone today."
Natasha shook her head. "Peter, sometimes I think you are looking for oddities in common things."
"That's kind of our job," he retorted.
"Put our job to the side for just one night."
"When have you ever done that?"
"Never," she said with a smirk. "But I'm a spy. You're a spider boy. We are not the same."
Peter spluttered in protest. "We're literally on the same team!"
Another smirk. "Come now, Parker. I'd like to find Clint."
He glanced behind him, certain the goose would follow them inside. It was still looking at him. A pure white goose, eerily still amongst the hustle and bustle of arriving guests. The same as the goose outside of the train station had been. The same as goose by the rental suit shop (Natasha would not let him pack something that would just wrinkle) had been. The same as the goose in the pond of the hotel had been. Peter was certain this was not a coincidence. It was probably the same goose.
He hated Gotham.
Hours later and the goose was still in Tim's room, staring him down with intent. At this point, it was definitively magical, as Bruce had even removed it from Tim's room when he'd arrived home from work. The resulting bites and scratches were unfairly earned, as the goose simply appeared back in Tim's room. Gone one moment, there the next.
It just wouldn't leave.
Damian tried coaxing it with food to no avail. He declared himself smarter than his father and refused to go too near the goose. The noises it had made when expressing its contempt for Bruce had been enough to scare even Jason away from attempting a removal. Alfred had laid down newspapers to avoid a fecal disaster (even though Tim had noticed it didn't seem to do a thing beyond stare, honk, and flap its wings).
Clint had arrived early for the gala and simply shook his head at Cass.
"Soulmate goose?" Clint signed to Cass, who was keeping Tim and the goose company.
She shrugged, signing back "don't know."
"Wait," Tim signed, then verbally clarified, "you know about soulmate geese?"
Clint smiled. "Always was mad Jason and I didn't get any. He's arguably my soulmate but, still. I thought it would be fun."
"I don't find this fun," Tim grumbled.
"Look at the positives," Clint said (and oh god were he and Jason truly meant to be). "I've heard of stories of the soulmate goose mauling their target! Yours just stares!"
Cass tapped Tim's good leg and he looked to her. "Got to go," she signed.
Tim melted into the hug she gave him, watching as she and Clint left again. He turned to the goose with a glare. "If I say please, will you leave?"
"Honk!"
"Didn't think so," he sighed.
It studied him.
"Well, we'll be stuck together for a long time," Tim reminded it. "I can't just leave because you want me to. So you better not get impatient and start biting me next."
Another honk from the goose. Another sigh from Tim. It was going to be a long couple of weeks.
The gala had started by the time they'd arrived, though others filtered in after them as well. Natasha had quickly melted into the crowd, leaving Peter to his own devices. Apparently she knew people here already.
Peter, for his part, leaned against a wall by the punch bowl, observing the crowd. Clint found him eventually, dragging a taller man behind him.
"This is Jay!" Clint said excitedly, shoving the man in front of him.
He looked about as uncomfortable as Peter, which was interesting. From what he knew of Jason Todd, he would have grown up attending Bruce Wayne's galas, considering he'd been adopted into the family. But even Peter, for all his lack of social graces, could see how uncomfortably the suit clung to the man's skin. His smile was genuine, though, as he extended a hand to Peter.
"So formal," Clint complained. He pulled Peter into a one-armed hug. "Having fun?"
Peter grimaced. "If fun is being a wallflower, I'm having a blast."
That earned him a snort from Jason. "Enjoy the anonymity," he told him. "Once the investors realize you're representing Stark Industries, you'll be mobbed."
"Oh fuck," Peter groaned. "I didn't think about that. I don't even know how to business."
Clint patted his head. "You got this," he soothed. "Nat said she's giving you an hour to figure it out before she spills the beans."
Well, that was at least something. An hour to collect his thoughts, no weird goose in sight, and access to the punch bowl. Peter could live with that.
The gala was in full swing. From the living area of the manor, Tim couldn't hear a thing, but he knew the timeline. It was an hour in, which meant even the fashionably late guests would have arrived.
Ryan Gooseling (Tim had of course named the goose, figuring if he was stuck with it for a while, it deserved to be called more than "the goose") suddenly made a move and flew towards the door. It began biting at the handle.
"Still can't leave," Tim reminded it.
"Honk!" Ryan Gooseling protested.
"You can teleport, leave if you want."
"Honk!"
"I hate you."
It bit the door again.
Peter's time was almost up. Clint and Jason had disappeared to mingle, leaving Peter to try and strategize. Currently, his plan was to get information and pass it all to Tony to handle. He was steeling himself to be bombarded, having noticed Natasha looking his way, when there was a sudden sharp pain at his ankle.
He just barely swallowed his yelp and looked down, finding… the white goose, poking its head out from the table cloth, and promptly biting his ankle again.
"Ow! What the fuck?" Peter yelled, jumping back. That earned him a few looks, but the goose was hidden enough that it just resulted in raised eyebrows and head shakes. Hopefully, none of them were the investors Tony was looking for.
The goose honked up at him, just loud enough for him to hear, and reached out to bite him again. Peter jumped away before it could make contact.
"What is happening right now?"
Not that he expected the goose to explain. It waddled forward, reaching out once more. Peter sidestepped again.
This continued. Attempted bite, sidestep. Attempted bite, sidestep. Eventually, they reached the edge of the ballroom, opposite of the entrance hall. Before Peter could panic, though, he noticed a door. He feinted to the left, causing the goose to flap towards the corner, and made a break towards it.
Peter slammed it closed behind him, slumping down and taking a few gasping breaths to calm his anxious heart.
"Honk!"
He startled upwards. "You have got to be kidding me."
The goose was somehow in front of him, staring him down with seeming contempt in his eyes. Was contempt an emotion geese could feel? Even if it wasn't, this clearly was not a normal goose, so contempt was probably available to it.
Peter stared back at the goose, heart back to racing. What was happening right now?
As Spider-Man, Peter was fast. His reflexes were stellar. Somehow, the goose was better. Before he could react, it rushed him, biting down on his pant leg and pulling. There was a surprising amount of force behind the movement and Peter stumbled forward with a cry.
"Let go!" Peter tried to kick the goose, but it stayed resolutely attached to his pant leg. He tried digging in his heels but it just kept pulling with determination, apparently trying to lead him deeper into the house. "Hold on," he told it, panting from the shocking amount of exertion it took to fight the bird off. "Just let me figure out where we are."
The goose paused its pulling. Peter shook his leg but the animal held on tight. "This is a rental," he complained. The goose did not let go.
Looking around, Peter could tell they were not in the public area of the manor anymore. It felt… homey. As much as a large, old money manor could feel that way. There were family pictures on the walls of the hallway. Peter figured the grand staircase in the front led to the family area, but this little area seemed well-treaded. There was another staircase, here, at the end of the hall, which is where the goose seemed to be pulling him towards.
"I don't think we're supposed to be here," Peter said, looking back at the goose. It managed to pull off an uncaring expression even as it remained clamped on to his pant leg. "This is private," he insisted.
This time, the goose hissed, the noise seeming to come from deep in its throat. Peter swallowed, nervous. Again, he would never have claimed to be a goose expert, but he was smart enough to know that was not the sound of a happy goose.
"I really don't want you to hurt me," he told it.
Another angry hiss.
"I can't just explore Mr. Wayne's private home."
"Hiss."
"This is basically trespassing!"
Still, it remained clamped on. They remained that way for a few moments longer. Peter couldn't be sure how much time had passed before he relented.
"Fine," he groaned. "If you let go, I will follow you."
"Honk!" At least it sounded happy as it let go of him, flapping its wings towards the staircase. When Peter hesitated again, it nipped at him, and he resigned himself to his fate.
Peter allowed the goose to corral him up the stairs and down another hallway, back towards the main area of the manor, where he could hear the gala in full swing below them.
As they reached the main staircase once more, Peter stopped. "I think we've done enough explor— ow! Little fucker! Okay, okay, ow! Stop biting me, I get it!"
He allowed the goose to lead him down an ajoining hallway. The set up of the manor was strange, with odd turns that led them further from the sounds that rose up from the ballroom until it was quiet once more.
Suddenly, the goose stopped, nearly causing Peter to trip. He found his center and peered down at the little monster. "What now?"
It seemed to jerk its head at the door, once again acting eerily human. "Honk!"
There was light coming out from under the door. Peter shook his head. "Absolutely not," he told it, which earned him a hiss. "I'm not going into someone's bedroom!"
The goose moved and Peter jumped back, but it didn't lurch towards him this time. Instead, it began biting at the door. And… was that? No, there couldn't be another goose in there. Right?
"Is your mate stuck?" Peter asked. He didn't know if geese mated for life, like swans, but maybe. He refused to acknowledge how completely wild it would be for this goose to have singled him out for a rescue mission. To acknowledge that level of weirdness would likely have been too much for him, already at the verge of a nervous breakdown.
The goose honked. From the other side of the door, Peter heard an answering honk. Definitely another goose in there. And, again, while he wasn't a goose expert, he was confident that geese couldn't open doors. Which meant… he had to.
"If I rescue your goose friend, will you go away?"
"Honk!"
He'd take that as a yes. With a sigh, he turned the door knob.
Ryan Gooseling had officially lost his mind. Tim had managed to leverage himself up to the bathroom, where the goose mercifully did not follow him. As he washed his hands, there was a sudden explosion of honks from his bedroom.
As quickly as possible (which was infuriatingly slow), Tim crutched his way back into the bedroom. Ryan Gooseling was flapping excitedly at the door, though Tim couldn't hear anything from the other side. He collapsed back on the bed, energy spent, and manuevered his leg back into the elevated sling, gritting his teeth against the pain.
The goose honked loudly at him and slammed against the door. Tim shook his head in exasperation. He'd thought they'd come to an agreement here. "What's happening, Ry?"
"Honk!"
"I still can't leave, you know."
"Honk!"
Tim glanced at the paused episode of Chopped on his screen. He'd been hoping to take his painkillers and sleep soon, now that he'd concluded Ryan Gooseling wouldn't hurt him. There was no way he could sleep through this. And as creepy as this situation was, he was growing fond of the demonic little bird. He still wasn't sure it was a soulmate goose but he was sure they were stuck together.
"I can't help you," Tim insisted, his voice taking on the same tone he used to calm civilians. "I need you to remain calm."
It seemed to work, Ryan Gooseling pausing in his tirade. Tim had a moment of victory before he heard a honk again. Except, it was muted this time, like it was coming from… the hallway?
"Is there another goose out there?" Tim asked, straining his to listen. A second honk, which was echoed by Ryan Gooseling. He thought he could here a voice, too, and sat up as much as possible. From under his pillow, he found a Batarang, nerves immediately on edge. Tim lifted it, arm readied.
The door opened. The Batarang flew. If it was a family member, they would dodge it. If it was a random Wayne Gala guest, Tim would find a way to apologize. He was taught to be ready for anything, sue him.
The person who entered the room was unfamiliar but had stellar reflexes, as they managed to immediately dodge projectile with ease. They glanced behind them, letting out a low whistle at the Batarang lodged in the wall, before turning back towards Tim.
Raising their arms in surrender, they gave an unsure smile. "I think you're holding a goose hostage in here," they said, voice uncertain.
Tim glanced to Ryan Gooseling, who flapped its wings in seeming victory. "I'd say the goose is holding itself hostage," he replied, gesturing towards his broken leg. "I'm the powerless one here."
Another low whistle. "Ouch," the stranger sympathized.
"Ouch," Tim agreed. He was still wary, squinting towards the intruder.
They looked to be about Tim's age, standing a bit taller than he himself did, with light brown hair. He could tell under the suit that they were wiry, thin but in a scrappy way. The best descriptor he could come up with was "built like a former Robin."
After an awkward moment, the stranger stepped to the side a little bit. From behind them, a white goose waddled into the room, honking excitedly. Ryan Gooseling flapped towards it. Both geese jumped around a bit before settling down, looking between Tim and the stranger.
"I'm really sorry to intrude," the stranger blurted out.
Tim frowned. "Do you make a habit of breaking into bedrooms at events?"
The stranger shifted awkwardly. "Not usually," they admitted, before gesturing at the white goose. "I promise I was bullied into it."
Tim could believe that, with how stubborn Ryan Gooseling was. "Well, since you're in my room, I'm Tim," he offered.
"Peter. Peter Parker. And now that the geese are reunited, I will leave you be," Peter added.
As Peter made to leave, Ryan Gooseling and the white goose both made the low, angry hissing sound that Tim had come to fear. Peter had clearly learned that lesson, too, because the movement was immediately aborted with a loud groan.
The white goose extended its neck, clamping down on Peter's pant leg. "Not again," Peter insisted, giving a little leg shake that made Tim snort. The white goose did not let go. "I don't think its going to let me leave. And I've been bit enough tonight to be willing to beg you to let me stay a little while."
Tim weighed that. Some company would have been nice. He'd also been looking forward to painkillers and sleep. But he couldn't be the reason a seemingly harmless stranger was murdered by geese in his doorway. And something Clint had said earlier was eating at him. How he was lucky Ryan Gooseling wasn't attacking him, like most soulmate geese do. Not that Tim had decided this was a soulmate situation, of course. If he had Peter stay though, he could find out. Maybe Peter knew about soulmate geese? It seemed unlikely, since Tim had been accused of goose-napping, but… maybe?
"Do you like Chopped?" Tim asked.
Peter smiled. "Love it."
At the words, the goose let go. Tim saw some of the tension ease from Peter's shoulders. He gestured for Peter to come in to the room and pointed out the desk chair. "Well, we're marathoning it. Me and Ryan Gooseling," he clarified.
Peter grinned and for the first time, Tim noticed how handsome the stranger was. Warmth seemed to bloom in his chest and the honks from both geese sounded soft and right. "You named the goose?" Peter asked as he sat in the indicated chair. "Wait… is it your pet?"
Okay. Definitely wasn't aware of soulmate geese. If they even exist. Tim reminded himself firmly that he still didn't fully believe in them.
"Ryan Gooseling belongs to no one," he said. "Ryan Gooseling is its own person."
Peter nodded. "Wise words."
"Very," Tim agreed. He studied Peter, who had immediately draped across the desk chair, like an old visiting friend and not a stranger who had broken into his bedroom on a goose related mission. "Comfortable?"
"Very," Peter promised.
"Good."
They looked back to the geese, who were watching them. Tim turned to restart his Chopped episode and heard a gasp from Peter. "Where did they go?"
Ryan Gooseling and the white goose had disappeared. Tim just shrugged. "Ryan Gooseling does that."
"It… what?" Peter asked, confused.
"Disappeards," Tim clarified. "Its a magic goose. Did you not realize that?"
"I mean…" Peter hedged. "I knew there was something decidedly off about the white goose but, no, I did not know explicitely that they were magical geese."
Tim fidgeted with his blanket for a moment. If he asked about soulmate geese, he could no longer lie to himself. He risked scaring Peter away. Yet Tim had to admit that there was no other explanation for this, not that he had found. Not for two persistent geese bringing two people together.
He had to just say it.
"What do you know about soulmate geese?"