Disclaimer:I don't own any characters used in this short story, DC does.

Sideburns

Slade took a deep sigh before sipping from his coffee. His mask was off, sitting next to his dish on the table. Wintergreen was currently washing several of the dirty utensils and plates at the sink, every once and a while glancing over at his master. Slade would nod at these looks, before shrugging. They'd discussed this many times before, and it needed to be said. Hurt feelings or not, this was his house, and he wasn't going to allow this rebellious behavior any longer.

The two sat a little straighter as the sounds of a door opening and shutting gently came into the room. Slade put down his cup, and crossed his arms on the table.

"Are you sure sir--"

"--Yes, William, I'm positive."

Last chance. Passed.

Joseph walked into the kitchen, placing some of his gear by the doorway before sitting down in the chair across from his father. He was smiling, as usual. Slade liked his son. He doubted there were that many fathers out there that didn't like their children. A couple here and there of course, but by no means a large amount. Still, it wasn't just a fatherly thing. His personality seemed to... mesh well with his own, making their bond even tighter. Joseph sort of worked as a balance, and by all means, he even seemed to be rubbing off on his old man. Just last week, Slade had decided not to bomb the Jump City Children's Charity, but actually donate a rather nice amount. It had given Slade an exhilarated feeling, actually, plus gave his reputation a little boost in the town's eye. Of course, his poker buddies weren't too pleased, saying he was getting soft and touchy-feeling (The last time he'd been like that had been the siring of Joseph), a good knife to the gut kept them quiet.

Slade stared across his father, and signed a quick greeting.

"Hello Joey, I'm fine. How was your day?" Casual conversation, as usual. Slade didn't have a problem with it though. It was a little refreshing to speak without using big words and having hidden meanings within them. Joseph signed back a response, to which his father smirked at. Just going around town, helping the Titans out, rescuing cats from trees, same-old routine.

"Uhh, sir?" Wintergreen shot in, looking over his back. Slade caught his glance, and his smirk faltered. Yeah, had to get this over with sooner or later, and sooner was always better.

"Joey..." Slade spoke up, just as his son was grabbing a roll and beginning to butter it. Joseph looked up, eyes a bit wider.

"I think... we need to talk. About something."

The teen put his roll down, and continued to stare at his father. Slade could guess his son didn't have much of a clue as to what this could be. He sat forward, trying to find the words to for him to say.

"It's about... your..."

Slade's words began to trail off. Jericho picked up his right hand and began to move it up and down, as if he were strumming something.

"No, it's not your guitar."

Joseph waited a little more for his father to continue. When he didn't, the mute picked up his hands and made another, more intricate sign.

'He has a girlfriend?' "What, no, it's not your girlfriend, though we're going to have a talk about that, but later. What I'm trying to talk about is... what needs to be done is... you need to..."

"Your sideburns, young master Wilson. Your father wishes that you shave them off."

Slade watched as his son suddenly went pale, even his hair seemingly losing its tint of blonde. The sides of his lips dropped, and he stared wide-eyed at the other two. Slade shrugged. Well, no way to go back now.

"Joseph... you know I love you, but you have to understand... you're not living on the mountain anymore, it's not like you can't shave."

'How did he manage to just have sideburns in the first place, anyway?'

Joseph's color returned to his face. He stood up from his chair and pointed directly at Slade's own face. More specifically his goatee. He then began to sign furiously with his hands, almost too fast for the two men to read.

"What? It's fashionable, Joey. Whereas, with your sideburns, they're..."

"They look like fuzzy caterpillars, young master Wilson."

The last comment was too much for young Joseph's ears. He immediately grabbed his guitar by the doorway and ran up the stairs. The two men heard from above a door open and violently slam shut. Slade sighed for the second time today, slinking down in his chair. Wintergreen walked over and patted his master's shoulder reassuringly.

"Don't worry sir. We'll get him tonight with the razor."

-Fin-