A/N: Next week there will be a delay of one or two days, as I'm going on vacation… so update late Thursday or Friday.

In Perfect Control

Chapter 3: Losing Control

Slade tucked himself in and gave the trembling boy on the floor a contemptuous glare.

"Clean yourself up, you look like shit. Then go down to Alfred and have him fill you in on the details regarding that cocktail party. I'll be in the office."

As Slade left, he wasn't very worried about the teen's state of mind. You didn't survive being a hero since childhood if you couldn't rationalize something like this. With all the horrors Robin had seen and been through, he would have been broken by now if his brain, in self-preservation, hadn't come up with reasons and explanations for it all. It didn't bother the man that he had added to this burden, although a fleeting thought came to mind; was this how he rationalized it? He snorted. He shouldn't have to go further than that it had felt good, that was enough for him. And it would have taught the kid a lesson he wouldn't soon forget.

Robin leaned over the toilet. He had had a moment of nausea, but nothing had come up. He went to wash his face but then that wasn't enough he took a shower instead. He was covered in cold sweat. He then dressed, but chose a pair of jeans and t-shirt from his own clothes, putting the others in the laundry.

"Master Richard, I was worried!" Alfred called out when he saw him. Robin took a breath to steady himself, stopping himself from breaking down. He had done something awful. He had been punished. That was that.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," he lied. Before the man could ask any follow up questions Robin hurriedly continued. "Could I get all the details for the cocktail party, please? Slade needs to know; I don't think he knew about it before."

"Of course, let's go through it and I have the social calendar ready for you with all the traditional gatherings and fundraisers marked in. You can of course change it, if you wish…"

"Let's try to keep to it this year," Robin said. "It's probably good business sense to… pretend that everything is proceeding as normal."

"Very astute, Master Richard. Well, if you'll come with me?"

Half an hour later Robin knocked on the door frame to Bruce's, well he supposed it was his now, home office. The door was open but the teen didn't dare enter unannounced. Then again, he never did so when Bruce had been alive either. One of the house rules. Slade looked up from some papers. He was sitting at the desk, no need to pretend who was in charge in private.

"Enter."

"I have the information about the party," Robin said, having trouble meeting the man's eye.

"Good, let's hear." Slade put the papers aside and his full concentration was on the teen. "Why a cocktail party, by the way? Isn't that kind of… dated?"

"Tradition." Robin answered glad to know something the man didn't for once. "In fact, it was started by Bruce's parents and, in their memory, it is held in 50's style. It supports a different charity each year, this year it's the Gotham libraries. We can expect around fifty guests, I have the list and yes, Luthor is on it. There will be a live band, cocktails and hors d'oeuvre, of course, all with a 50's influence. We'll be in the main ballroom and the adjoining rooms as well as the veranda. Friday at seven. Staff will be circling for people to make donations. I'm supposed to give a short welcome speech." He added the last thing with a grimace.

"Good. We'll make sure that makes an impact," Slade nodded.

Robin groaned; he was afraid of that. "Anyway, everything is off course arranged, the invitations were sent out the same day that… that…" The teen swallowed. "The accident," he finished. "And as it's a yearly event we decided not to cancel. Well… Alfred claims so, I'm not sure I remember us talking about it."

"It would have been understandable but it's much too late now. We'll go ahead. One problem, though… Luthor will recognize me."

"Of course," Robin muttered. He had hoped the mercenary might have stayed away from Metropolis, but obviously not. "How about Oliver Queen? He'll be here to represent Queen industries."

"I haven't had much to do with Green Arrow. I'll wear a prosthetic eye just in case the eyepatch gives me away. I was planning on doing that from now on anyway, as we'll end up in the press sooner or later."

"Maybe you should try a bunny suit?"

"Was that sass?"

"No, sir," Robin hurriedly asserted.

"Thought so. Do you know everyone on the list?"

"No?"

"Then your job for now is to do research on each and every one of them. I want both information that is usable for introductions and small talk, and as much dirt you can find, in case we need leverage. You have two hours."

"Yes, sir," Robin nodded and then looked around, realizing he didn't have a place to sit nor a computer. "May I go to the Batcave?"

"Yes, I'll be down there for our pre-dinner workout."

Robin wanted to object as he vividly remembered the morning's torture session, but thought better of it and just nodded. He changed into workout gear on the way down, however, just to be ready.

Two hours for fifty people wasn't a lot of time, but Robin already knew a fair share of them, or at least knew about them, and they were all public figures meaning information that would do for small talk was easy to find. Many of them even had Wikipedia pages. The dirt, however, took more time, but Robin discovered that Bruce must have thought like Slade at some point and the bat computer had quite a few things stored on both friend and foe. Robin didn't have anything like this back in Jump, nor had he ever considered it, and now he wondered if he should tell Cyborg to look into it. The political game affected the Teen Titans as well, after all… Having some leverage, only to be used in the direst of situations of course, could be beneficial. He then felt ashamed of himself for thinking like that. He couldn't even blame it on Slade, the man hadn't been around long enough to influence him and, if Robin got a say in it, he never would.

He had just finished when Slade walked into the cave.

"Done?" the man asked.

"Yes, but with a bit more time I could dig deeper?" the teen said.

"I will read through it tonight and we'll see." The man didn't sound very interested and then nodded towards the gym area. "Over there, now. On the treadmill. Only cardio this time."

Robin felt relieved. He was still really sore after the morning's workout and preferred just to let his body loosen up a bit by running. Swimming would have been better, but even though the cave had a pool with a jet-stream to swim against, the more clothes he could keep on around the man right now the better.

After only forty minutes of running Slade called it quits. The teen headed towards the exit when he was called back.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I thought we were done? I'm gonna go shower?" the teen said, feeling a bit anxious about the tone in the man's voice.

"You'll shower with me. Come."

"Slade, please-"

"No arguments."

"Fuck no arguments!" Robin had had enough. "You take over WayneCorp, fine! You make me work out and tell me what to eat and how to dress, fine! I can buy that that's for my 'benefit', but you can't make me do stuff like this!" the teen yelled.

"Can't I?" the man said mildly.

"Not if you're trying to stick to the story that you're 'helping' me," Robin snarled. "Not after pushing your cock down my throat!"

"That's only one of your cavities it's been introduced to," the man hummed, like he pretended to think things over.

Robin backed away, looking livid. "Don't you fucking DARE!" he snarled.

Slade tilted his head to the side, studying the teen closely, trying to judge exactly what he could do, how much he could push him. He knew what he wanted to do, and who was to say that he helping others couldn't include helping himself? At this exact point in time it would be a bad idea, though, and even hinting at it had probably not been beneficial. He decided to deescalate the situation. He shrugged and held out a hand towards the boy, gesturing for him to follow.

"Come now, Robin, into the shower and no more unpleasantries. It has been a long enough day as it is, hasn't it? Why fight this? It's just a shower. I won't touch you; you will have your own stall."

The teen suddenly looked uncertain. Oh, his unmasked eyes were so easy to read. Slade needed to teach him how to hide his feelings, and soon. Robin was clearly too used to a mask, too used to seem stoic as long as he didn't move the rest of his face. Poor boy. Easy prey.

"Then… then why even…. Why even order me to?" he asked,

"Because Alfred would be quite disappointed if you sat down to dinner smelling like a gym rat," the man smirked. "And, because I can. This is a power struggle, Robin. I need to assert dominance over you by giving you these kinds of nonsensical orders. You'll fight them, I'll make you obey in the end, and for every time that happens, I'll break down your resolve just a little bit more. It's easier for you just to go along with it. Keep some of that resolve for something more important."

Robin was tired and maybe Slade's words made more sense than they really should, normally. He didn't even know he had given in until he felt his own shoulders sag.

"Fine," he muttered and shuffled past the man, slightly dragging his feet.

"Smart boy." Slade seemed pleased. Robin didn't want the man to feel pleased, but he hoped there would be less of that in the future. Right now, he just wanted a shower and dinner.

He kept a wary eye on the mercenary but Slade appeared focused on his own shower. Robin tore his eyes away from the thing swinging between the man's legs and quickly entered his own booth on Slade's right. Now he finally got some privacy and could relax for a few minutes, until he heard the man's shower turn off.

"Your clothes are on the bench," Slade told him. "I'll see you at dinner."

Robin wanted to yell at the man, asking him what all the fuss had been about if this had been all – a normal shower, something he had taken with Bruce since he was a kid. Well. He never ogled Bruce. Much. Robin made a face of disgust and shook his head. No, he had never ogled Bruce in the same way he looked at Slade, but of course, as a kid and young teen, he had been curious. Had wanted to compare. You know… to see if he was normal. He was immensely thankful that he hadn't had to compare himself to Slade growing up, though, because damn. Inferiority complex, much?

He dried off, pulled on the underwear that was on the pile and took the rest of the clothes under his arm before leaving the shower area. He just hated dressing in there because it was too humid. He checked the time, saw that he had plenty, and went over to check his work one more time. He wondered if he dared do some more research, but figured that Slade would punish him for taking more than his allotted time. He sighed in irritation but decided against it. By now all the moisture on his body had evaporated and he could get properly dressed. Slade, or Alfred, had chosen a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. Nothing uncommon. You dressed for dinner at the Wayne household, unless you had very good reasons not to. Then again, the times both he and Bruce had been present for dinner, and around actual dinner time, had been rather rare. Robin blinked as he realized that, from now on, he'd have dinner here, every night, unless there were other plans. It felt… strange. And a little, little bit like being trapped.

He called the Titans before dinner, not saying anything about Slade. He kept the conversation to what happened on their side and claimed time was up when they asked about him. Then he headed to the small dining room and timed it perfectly as Slade met him right outside.

Dinner was lovely, as usual. Dessert was crème brûlée. For Slade. Fruit for Robin. The teen didn't comment.

"Sir?" he asked as they were finishing up. He wanted something, and it was important.

"Yes?"

"Batman hasn't shown himself out there for a few days now…" the teen started. "I was thinking I should-"

"You need your sleep," Slade interrupted, and Alfred, who was hovering in the background, made an approving sound.

Robin looked over at the man a bit irritably. Alfred never ate with them, not when Bruce was alive and not afterwards. Robin had asked him to, as he felt alone, but all the man had done was stay in the room, keeping him company. It was frustrating, in a way, as the teen considered the man family, but the old butler simply insisted on sticking to the rules. He might not even have shared a pew with the teen at the funeral unless Robin had straight out begged him. It just 'wasn't done'. What apparently was done, however, was agreeing with mercenaries about eighteen-year-old's bedtimes.

"You promised to help keep the illusion up," Robin reminded Slade.

"And I will. I'll go out there tonight. Will be nice to stretch my legs."

"I think people will wonder why Batman suddenly has a beard," Robin said dryly.

"I'll wear one of the full facemasks," the man said, looking at him like he was stupid.

"I can come with! I'd also like to-"

"You 'stretched' enough today, don't you think?" the mercenary said dryly. "You're going to be in bed by ten."

"What do you want me to do until then?" Robin asked, as it was seven-thirty.

"Not sound like a sullen brat would be first on the list," the man smirked. "Read, watch TV, masturbate, do whatever you want. You have the night off."

The teen's cheeks colored a bit. "I could do some additional research on the guests?" he suggested, as he had liked that.

"Very well. But bed by ten."

"Yes sir."

"Mr. Pennyworth, will you make sure he obeys?"

The old man coughed and looked a bit uneasy. "Actually, sir, it's my night off," he explained.

"Late night movie?" Robin smiled at him, knowing the man's routine. Alfred was always there for emergencies, of course, and the teen had learned that you could always knock on his door f needed, but when he was officially off the clock the old man tended to retire to his own rooms or leave the manor altogether, and Bruce had always been careful to try to respect that as much as his works as Batman would allow. Robin wasn't about to change that.

"That was the plan, sir," the old man smiled back.

"I'll be in bed in time," Robin promised the mercenary.

But he wasn't. It was a complete accident, but he had stumbled over some very interesting transactions one of the minor guests had made, that could actually connect to a crime family in Gotham, possibly solving a few cold cases, but tracking those transactions was tricky and completely made him lose track of time and space. When the heavy hand landed on his shoulder, he almost peed himself. Luckily the only thing that came out was a startled yelp, but that was bad enough.

"Busy?" Slade growled. He was wearing most of bat suit, sans mask, cape, glove and belt which he had apparently already taken off.

Robin looked over at the large clock on the wall and paled. "Shit," he mumbled and then looked up at the looming mountain of annoyance that was Slade. "Shit," he repeated. It was close to one at night.

"You better have found something good," the man warned him, and the teen eagerly started to explain, showing Slade how far he had gotten on the trail.

"Alright. To bed. Now."

Robin had more or less expected a beating and was happy to run off ahead. Slade followed him at a more normal pace and when the man entered the bedroom the teen had already brushed his teeth, changed and was under the covers.

"There will be consequences," Slade told him. "But not tonight."

"I really didn't mean to disobey!" Robin pleaded. "I just got caught up, I always get caught up, I'll… I'll set an alarm from now on."

"Good." The man started to undress. "That you are thinking of how to make sure it doesn't happen again is sensible."

"Why… why are you undressing?"

"As you still don't seem to value your sleep, I'm staying with you again."

"But I'm really, really tired! I'll fall asleep instantly!" Robin claimed.

"I'm just making sure," the man told him and, once down to his underwear, climbed into bed with him.

For the second night in a row Robin soon found himself cocooned by the man in a deceivingly gentle hold, considering what Slade had done only that afternoon.

"Are you sure it's not you who can't sleep without a teddy bear?" Robin muttered.

"Boy, an old lady slapped me with a handbag tonight. Really hard. I want to sleep and forget, not getting up to find something to spank your ass with."

"Wait, did she have a red coat? On west and tenth?"

"Yes?"

Robin chuckled. "She has slapped Batman plenty of times. She was always nice to me, though."

"I thought she might need help," the man muttered.

"She gets quite insulted when you ask."

"I noticed."

"We had this bet going on if she was human at all. Bruce once said that he wouldn't be surprised if she ran all the crime syndicates in the whole city. I've even seen the Joker swerve to stay out of her reach when we chased him once."

"It makes me feel a bit better," the man snorted. "Now sleep."

And Robin did.

He woke up pretty much in the same situation as the previous morning, but this time it wasn't quite as much of a shock. Slade's cock really seemed to like it pressed up against his butt. Robin snorted and started to move away to get out of the bed when Slade caught him.

"Stay. You're going to help me out," he was told.

The teen felt his boxers being yanked down and froze.

"S-Slade?" he asked, agitatedly, looking at the man from over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt your precious little hole," the man snorted. "This is how you make up disobeying me last night."

The teen gasped as he felt the man's naked member press between his globes. He barely dared to breathe. Then the man started to move and Robin realized that he was just using the space between his cheeks and thighs to rub off on. Some thrusts grazed and pushed against his opening, though, making it twitch and tingle like it wanted it. Robin bit back a moan as he felt himself harden. He clutched the sheets in front of him, bracing himself against the man's increasingly harder thrusts. The area between his cheeks and thighs started to feel slick now, from the man's precum. He clenched his buttocks and thighs and got an approving grunt from Slade.

"Good boy," the man praised him. "Make it tighter."

Robin tried. He told himself it was to get this over with as soon as possible, but it also felt good. He thought his body which wanted to angle itself towards the thrusts, wanted them to hit their target, wanted to be filled. He heard himself let out a needy whine, and Slade grabbed his hip, quickening his trusts even more. Then suddenly, there was more wetness and heat between his thighs and the man behind him stilled. Three breaths later and Slade stood up and walked into the bathroom. After some time in there the man came back and looked down on the teen with a smug expression on his face. "Gym in twenty minutes. And take care of that thing first," he said, gesturing to the teen's groin. Robin had covered himself up, but the man must have known, or guessed, what was going on under the sheets.

Robin nodded, his face red, and Slade left.

The mercenary was humming happily to himself as he walked down the hallway. It had been a good morning so far. It simply was easier to piss if you were soft and the boy was just so conveniently there.

"Mr. Wilson."

Slade turned his head to see Alfred further down the hall. The old man must have some Batman skills because he moved very quietly when he wanted.

"Good morning, Alfred," the man greeted him jovially.

"I couldn't help but notice that you haven't been sleeping in your bed these past two nights," the butler said, somewhat accusingly.

"Robin needed help to settle," Slade shrugged.

"I know what we talked about… about the… drastic measures, but… there is a limit," the old man told him, giving him a challenging look.

"Is there?" Slade said lightly. "I do things my way, Alfred, and if you disapprove… I still do things my way. The threat I hold over the boy's head is real. It's not in my interest to break him, but other than that… he's mine to play with." The hummed tune turned into a whistled one as the man walked away.

Robin thought Alfred looked worried over breakfast, but as the man didn't say anything or indicated that he needed a word, he let it go. The gym session hadn't been quite as deadly today and he hadn't argued about sharing a shower room afterwards.

"What is on the agenda today?" he asked. "Al? Slade?" It was Saturday, but there were always things to do. Alfred spoke first.

"The groundskeeper has been asking to see you, he and the gardener wants to go through the plans for spring and summer-"

"In February?" Robin groaned.

"That is apparently the right time, or so they claim."

"Alright. Slade? Are you taking over this too?"

"Gardens? No, knock yourself out," the man snorted. "You and I should sit down and go through some tings this afternoon, though."

"May I do more research in the morning, after the meeting with the gardener?" Robin asked.

"I have no other use for you at the moment, so yes."

"Anything else you need me for?"

"Well, I've been putting this off, but… Master Bruce's room… clothes…?"

Robin looked over at Slade, and he actually hoped the man would get involved in this.

"I'm sure there are things you would want to keep, but most clothes won't fit you for years, if ever. Charities? Suits for homeless people looking for jobs? I'm sure there are those kinds of things around," the man shrugged.

"That's a great idea!" Robin beamed. "Alfred?" he asked, just to be sure.

The old man smiled a little at him and nodded. "I think Master Bruce would have liked that. Any more… personal clothes, I'll deal with discreetly."

"People might pay a lot for a pair of billionaire's tighty whities," Slade smirked and Robin almost choked on his coffee.

"I think we've found our limit for charity somewhere here," the teen spluttered. Slade only shrugged and went back to looking through the large stack of newspapers on the table. Bruce had liked a selection from across the planet for his weekend reading, not that he hadn't been able to find updated information online but because he enjoyed reading about the smaller events and, Robin suspected, had just liked reading a physical paper. Slade seemed to agree.

"If you would join me after breakfast and look through some items in his rooms," Alfred said. "I'll inform the groundskeeper that your meeting can be at ten."

The teen looked for approval from Slade, and, once he got it, nodded.

Robin's heartrate went up when he entered Bruce's room. He hadn't been here for a long time. I was private, very private, and now… now their owner would never return. He had to swallow back tears when he noticed that the rooms still smelled like him. It was a huge bedroom with bay windows, truly a 'master'. The décor and color scheme were a bit dated and dark, Robin wondered if they had been changed at all since Bruce's parent's time.

"When did… when did he move in here after… after his parents…?"

"Not until he was eighteen," Alfred said. "Then he finally felt ready. Should I prepare the room for-?"

"No! No, I'm … I'm fine in my own," Robin assured.

"Maybe in time," the old man nodded.

"About your room… I…" The old man looked uncomfortable. "I saw Slade leave this morning."

"Oh. Well, yeah. I stayed up too long after all, he found me and… he wanted to guarantee that I slept, he said."

"He… he's not… he didn't…?" The butler took a deep breath. "He's not… hurting you in any way is he? In any… specific… way, I mean?"

"No! No, no, no, nothing like that!" Robin claimed because he'd rather die that admit what had happened to him. Besides, it had all been his own fault. Also, there was nothing poor old Alfred could do about it, and it would make him miserable if he knew. Ignorance was bliss here.

They went though some tings but, in the end, decided to keep the room pretty much as it was for now. Robin didn't want it to be used as a guest bedroom either, or turn it into something else. It didn't feel right. For now, it would become a mausoleum for a father he lost much too soon, the furniture covered in sheets, curtains drawn. Maybe one day it could be opened up again.

"We are thinking of a vegetable garden," the groundskeeper said.

"It is very trendy to grow your own vegetables," the gardener explained, "and anything the house doesn't use can be sold or donated."

"That sounds like a great idea," Robin agreed. "Where did you think of placing it?"

Wayne Manor came with quite a lot of land compared to modern houses. There was a big front lawn and a large formal back garden as well as a part that would probably count as a small forest, where Robin had played quite a bit as a boy. It was to that side the men suggested to put in the new garden and Robin didn't mind. He wouldn't want to change anything about the formal gardens as they had been in place since the current manor was built, many generations ago.

Robin approved their plans but asked them to consult with Alfred about what needed to be grown and how much. Growing vegetables to give to charity in different ways would be great too and it might save the house some money. He needed to look into the economics a bit more at some point. Right now, Alfred had assured him that he needn't worry, but sooner or later it might be time to.

The subject of Alfred came up that afternoon as well, and Robin didn't like it.

"I'm not replacing him!"

"Of course not," Slade scoffed, "that is not what I'm saying. I'm stating a fact, though; he's old. He could potentially drop at any point-"

"DON'T SAY THAT! DON'T FUCKING SAY THAT!" Robin felt his heart ripped to shreds at the mere mention of the possibility and tears were streaming down his cheeks. Suddenly his head snapped to the side from a slap he hadn't even seen coming.

"Pull yourself together, no need for hysterics," the mercenary snorted, lowering his hand.

Robin stumbled to an armchair and sank down into it, mind still reeling. He usually had better control than this, he didn't understand this panic, and that made him panic even more. He suddenly had trouble breathing. He heard Slade talking but couldn't make up the words. He curled up in the chair instead, hugging his knees, looking down at nothing.

"For the love of…" Slade looked down at the boy who was obviously having some sort of panic attack. He, uncharacteristically, felt a little bit guilty for apparently setting it off, but at the same time very annoyed at the teen for not being as stable as he thought. He decided it must have been a combination of clearing out Bruce's things and being reminded that Alfred wasn't immortal that initiated it. He lifted the boy up, and he didn't react. There were a few ways to deal with things like this, and he had seen many cases in wars and otherwise. He might have chosen just to walk away, but the boy's wellbeing was part of the deal and therefor he chose the gentle approach. He took the boy to bed with him, both fully clothes, and placed him in his lap before sweeping the comforter around them. There they sat in a warm cocoon, and Slade started talking to the young man.

"Breathe. You can do it. Follow my rhythm. Breathe in. In. In. Hold. Out. Out. Out. Hold. In, In, In. Hold. Out. Out. Out. Hold." When the teen's breathing stabilized a bit, the man continued. "Alfred is alright. He is not dying. He is not leaving. He's here. Do you understand? Can you talk to me?"

Robin nodded, but didn't make a sound.

"Alright, take things slow, it will be over soon." The man gently pushed the teen's head against his chest. "Listen to my heartbeat. Let me know when you're ready. It's alright."

Slade had once seen a man be in this state for hours after having his friends blow up in front of him. He was willing to give the kid about fifteen minutes. Ten minutes later, however, something about Robin's body changed, he somehow got heavier, and then the man noticed his breathing and snorted. The kid had fallen asleep. Slade stood up and just dropped the teen on the bed.

"Okay, nap time is over, we have work to do."

Robin woke up disoriented and not sure how he got to his bedroom. He looked up at Slade, who was impatiently gesturing for him to get up and follow him back to the office. In a daze the teen did. He sat down in the chair again, and Slade stood in front of him.

"Look," the man said. "We're not murdering the butler in the library with the candlestick."

"We're… we're not?" Robin asked, still not all caught up.

"No, because the bathroom is easier to clean up and snapping his neck minimizes DNA traces."

Robin blinked again but then finally understanding the joke and snorting.

"What I was suggesting was that we need to look into a future replacement, someone that first can help Alfred out and later, MUCH, MUCH later-" Slade added quickly as he saw the teen's eyes widening again, "can replace him when Alfred RETIRES. Alright?"

"Okay… okay… I… Yes. I mean… no one can. Replace him, I mean, but… yeah."

"He's going to need more help around, at least. A whole mansion and one indoor staff member…"

"Yes. You're going to tell him, though."

"I am?" Slade asked, his eyebrow raised. Robin's gaze was deadly serious, however.

"You can beat me to a pulp, there's no way I'm even going to BREECH the subject," the teen claimed.

"I guess I have to choose my battles as well…" the man sighed, because he didn't doubt the young man's words. "Fine."

Robin gave him a quick smile of sorts. And then sighed deeply. "What… what happened to me? What was that?"

"You've never had a panic attack before?" the man asked.

"Was it one of those? No… No… at least nothing like that… I've always been able to… hold it back."

"Good, then try harder again."

Robin looked up at the man and Slade had a small smirk on his face, the only sign that he might be joking. Robin smiled back and the smirk grew, confirming it. The teen then snorted and nodded.

"Good," Slade said. "So… to the rest of the business…"

It took all evening, until dinner, and afterwards Slade was enjoying a brandy in the small sitting room in front of a roaring fire, while Robin was curled up in the opposite chair, reading.

"Mr. Pennyworth, I need a word," Slade said as the butler came in, checking on them

Robin swallowed. This… might get ugly.

"A very good idea, I was going to suggest it myself," Alfred said, just a few minutes later.

Robin gaped for a second and then piped up, "But we'll never find anyone!"

"As a matter of fact, I have a great nephew who has a hotel management degree and has also taken classes at the British Butler Institute-"

Robin burst out laughing. Alfred looked perplexed. "Master Richard? What's so funny?"

The teen stopped laughing and blinked. "I… uh… that wasn't a joke? It's a real thing?"

"It certainly is! No such thing was used in my day, of course, then you started as a houseboy, and-"

"So you have a candidate? Lovely. Contact him as soon as possible." Slade interrupted.

"I'll write him tonight," Alfred nodded.

Now it was Slade's turn to chuckle and get a questioning look.

"There are phones now. And email," the mercenary pointed out.

The old man drew himself up. "Sir, there are some offers too important to not put to paper properly."

Slade gave him a long look, but the old man's gaze held fast so in the end the mercenary only sighed and shrugged. "Fine. It better not be by bloody pony express, though," he muttered.

"Of course not," the butler sniffed. "Those poor horses having to swim that far? I'll send it by pigeon. Was that all, Sir?"

Robin was still laughing long after the butler had left the room.

A/N: see you next week! Remember: a bit late. What do you think so far, by the way…?