A/N: Happy B-day fluffy09 (December 19)!

Okay, so what do you do when you get asked to write a "badass fluffy" story? And when the b-day girl says she likes the Peace Contract? Well, you get stomped by the "fluffy" part, at first, and then you decide that "badass" is the way to go… so this isn't dark, there's no need to run away, but it's not cuddly either… more comic-book rated… with a mature warning… ;)

Anyway, I also got a prompt sentence, and that is the first sentence in the drabble. Originally it was: "It's been seven years since we last seen each other, and it seems my training did you some good." but I changed it a bit to make it flow better as a start-out point. Because of that I had to decide whether or not to make Robin into Nightwing, but I decided to keep him as Robin this time, mostly because I just love that name. And Slade loves saying it… ;) So he's on this own, but he's not Nightwing in this universe… maybe he will be, who knows… Just thought I'd explain that so people don't think I'm being stupid… er… *cough*

An Offer You Can't Resist

"Hello, Robin. It's been seven years. Seems my training did you some good… although you should pay better attention."

Robin had to admit that the man had completely snuck up on him. It wasn't an easy thing to admit, and he was beating himself up on the inside, but hopefully he hadn't looked too startled as the mercenary had suddenly stepped out of the shadows in front of him. Slade was dressed in civilian clothes and didn't wear his mask, but the hero had known about his identity for a few years now and wasn't thrown by his appearance.

"Firstly," the young man said, holding up a finger, "Seven years is not nearly enough and secondly," he went on, adding a finger, "you never taught me a thing."

"Didn't I?" the man asked and then he attacked.

Robin ducked the first punch and blocked the second before he had even comprehended that they were fighting. As sudden as the attack had began, however, it stopped.

"I taught you those blocks," the man stated, sounding smug.

Robin realized that the man was right, which didn't exactly put him in a better mood.

"What are you doing in New York, Slade? What do you want?"

"You."

"What?"

"I need you. Come with me," the man said and gestured for the hero to follow.

"How about no?"

The next moment the cold nozzle of a gun was pressing against Robin's temple.

"How about yes?" Slade asked sweetly.

"Couldn't hurt," the hero swallowed.

Robin had been watching a garage he suspected a crime gang used for their headquarters when Slade had so rudely interrupted. His lookout point had been from a side street with his motorcycle, to be ready whenever any suspects appeared, but now Slade led him down another street.

"What about my bike, I can't just leave it here," Robin objected.

"It will be picked up and kept safe for you."

"Sounds nice. Wish it was me," the hero muttered.

They had entered a dark parking garage and was next to a car which beeped as Slade unlocked it with a remote key.

"Well, I did pick you up. Now strip."

"No dinner first?"

"Normally I like it when you're cute, but we have a deadline. You can either undress right now, or I'll do it for you while you're unconscious. And I might peek."

"So you want me naked, what else is new?" Robin sighed and reluctantly followed orders.

"Yes, I thought this scene reminded me of something…" the man chuckled dryly. "But, I'm sorry to say, you're not going to be wearing my colors," he added and threw the younger man a bundle of clothes from the trunk of the car. "Put these on."

"Just a black t-shirt and some jeans? Have you gotten cheap? Not even a pointy 'S' anywhere?"

"I can't have you in the car dressed as a Christmas decoration," the man snorted.

"Hey, it's the season for it! And I toned it down, didn't you notice? No cape. You never pay attention to me-" Slade released the safety on the gun. "-and I'll just get dressed now."

"Marvelous idea," the mercenary said dryly.

Robin, glad he was wearing just plain black boxers and not some embarrassing pattern, quickly changed. He wasn't completely sure that the man would shoot him, but he was very sure that he would knock him out if he felt he had to. Robin hadn't seen the mercenary since they parted ways after Trigon, but that didn't mean that he had let him go. In fact, due to his computer skills and lose grip on ethics when it came to Slade, Robin had made sure that every report, be it from the CIA, the FBI, Interpol or any other similar organization in the world, which even mentioned the mercenary was sent to his computer. Highly illegal, of course, but, like stated, Robin played by different rules when the man was involved. That is how he had known what he looked like, unfortunately it hadn't warned him that the man was anywhere near New York.

"What about my uniform?" he asked as he bundled it up.

"Leave it over there," Slade said and nodded to some rubbish bins.

"What? Can't I just put it in the trunk?"

"… said the man to the boy…" the man smirked. "And no. We're not going to use this car the whole time, and I can't have you carry that around. Don't worry, they won't pick up the trash for another two days, and if you play your cards right, you'll be back here tomorrow night."

"And if I don't?"

"You'll probably be dead. There's another option, but I think you'd prefer dead."

"Fantastic," the hero muttered and went off to hide his things. When he returned to the car, Slade had put the gun away, which was nice, but he also had another order.

"Put your hands on the roof of the car and spread your legs."

"You are going about this in the wrong order, it's; undress, spread legs, redress. Not undress, redress, spread legs," Robin snorted but did as the man asked.

"Well, I wouldn't know about spreading my legs," the mercenary chuckled as he patted the young man down, finding all the things Robin had snuck from his belt. "Tsk-tk-tsk," he added.

"Come on, you would have been disappointed in me if I hadn't at least tried," Robin said.

"That's true."

"And I think you know I don't have anything in my back pockets by now."

"I'm just being thorough," the man claimed before the grabbed the hero's wrists and handcuffed them behind his back.

"Hey, why-?" Robin began.

"It's just until we're on our way and I have debriefed you."

"Good luck, I'm wearing boxers."

"Again; cute. No time, though; get in."

When they had driven for a while, Robin felt it was time to point something out to the man.

"You know this is kidnapping, right?"

"No, kidnapping implies asking for a ransom, I'm not going to do that. I'm only borrowing you."

"Oh, is there a hero library I haven't heard about? Do you even have a library card?"

"I do, but it's called a gun. I showed it to you and everything."

"Now you are being cute."

"Thank you. And since we are on the topic of my smashing good looks… I noticed that you recognized me."

"Perhaps." The young man wasn't too eager about telling Slade why that was, as that would reveal that he was still obsessing about him. It turned out, he didn't have to.

"I know about your private little subscription service, Robin. I'm quite flattered."

"I'm just-"

"Still have a crush on me?"

"No! I mean, I never had a crush on you!"

"You were just too young."

"I told you I didn't have a crush on you!" the former Titan growled.

"And I told you why we never fucked. You're older now, though."

"Well, so are you!"

"We have so much in common."

"…" Robin decided that he shouldn't indulge the man any longer, but find why he was sitting handcuffed in the passenger seat of a non-descript car. "So why did you 'borrow' me?"

"I need your help."

"Splendid. With what? Hack into some data base? Tight rope walking between buildings? Squeeze into a tight opening of some sort?"

"If anyone is going to squeeze into tight openings, it's going to be me."

"Well, I hope you get stuck!" Robin snorted just half a second before he understood the innuendo. His cheeks turned a bit red as he angrily glared at a chuckling mercenary.

"I need you do seduce a man," Slade finally explained.

"What?"

"You don't have to sleep with him," the mercenary snorted like he had no idea what could have possibly upset the other man. "Probably."

"Probably?"

"I can't see into the future, after all. I just want you to distract him, preferably in his bedroom, while I go through his office."

"And you automatically thought that would be a job for me?"

"You fit his… preferences."

"How do you mean?"

"Young. He likes them illegal if he can get them."

"Come on , I'm twenty-two, there's no way I can pass as seventeen!"

"Keep telling yourself that." the man glanced at him and smirked. "Maybe younger with the right clothes."

"You're delusional," Robin muttered and shifted uncomfortably in the seat, his arms beginning to ache a little. "Wait, what did you mean by 'he likes them illegal'?"

"His whores."

"Of course. So I'm going to play a whore as a distraction?"

"Yes, glad you accepted."

"Let me off."

"If you want to leave, you have to jump out of the car," the man shrugged, "Besides, aren't you at all curious about who this person is and why I need to get into his office?"

Robin sighed and collapsed back into the seat. He knew he wasn't going anywhere as of now.

"Fine. Tell me."

"Have you ever heard of Rick Smith?"

"No, because I've been living under a rock for two years. He's a famous actor. Wait… he likes… boys?"

"Oh, yes. But that's not why I'm interested in him."

"Figures. You're probably fine with that. You're probably friends on Facebook."

"Hardly. But he's up to other things as well, and that's why CIA hired me."

The hero burst out laughing. "Oh, right… and are you breeding unicorns in your free time as well?"

"I'm telling the truth," Slade said and, with one hand on the wheel, opened the glove compartment, pulled out a folder and placed it on the dashboard.

"And how am I going to read it?" the young man asked dryly, jiggling his handcuffs.

"I'm going to assume that you are curious enough at this point so you won't do something you'll regret. I don't want to pull out my library card again," the man said and pulled out the key to the cuffs and dropped it in Robin's lap.

"Hey!" the hero objected.

"Oh, you know you'll manage…" the man told him.

He did, of course, by spreading his knees enough so the key fell to the seat between his legs, and then shuffle up until his hands could reach it, to end up bending forwards as much as he could to free up his hands enough to, eventually, manage to unlock the restraints. It was rather awkward. The hero had a feeling Slade watched him more than the road during the whole time, and was entertained as well.

Still, as soon as he was free, Robin grabbed the folder. He knew a thing or two about how genuine CIA material should look like and was even familiar with the signatures of the most important people there, and he had to admit it looked right. When he started reading, however, he soon began frowning, and worrying his lip as he mulled things over.

"This is serious," he finally admitted.

"I'm not called in for kittens in trees."

"Why you, though?"

"This can't be allowed to be traced back to the government. If I'm discovered, the investigators will simply 'reveal' that they found evidence that I'd been hired to kill him by someone or other, and besides, I owed them a favor."

"Oh? Is that a good story?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Possibly as a bed time story," the man leered.

"Not sure I want to hear it that badly," Robin muttered.

"Sure you do."

"Anyway," the young man decided to get the conversation back on track. "So why do you need me? I don't want you to think you're special, but I would have thought that breaking into an office wouldn't be too difficult for you…"

"Normally no, but his office, which is in his home, is a bunker. As soon as he leaves it, he shuts it all down, having steel walls closing it in, and the electronic security is ridiculous. I could still break in and bang his head against the wall until he opens up, but CIA wants it done quietly and I don't want him to see me."

"Why would that be bad?"

"Didn't you hear me? The CIA will spread the rumor that I was sent to kill him."

"And?"

"And if he's alive afterwards it means I would have failed. Me. Failing to kill an actor. That's not a rumor I want to live with."

"Of course not. Silly me. You're perfect," Robin said dryly.

"Exactly."

"Apart from the fact that you don't recognize irony… Anyway, so they think this guy sells sensitive national secrets when he travels around the world to film?"

"That's what the folder says."

"And they want proof?"

"You can read, can't you?"

Robin was quiet for a while, but the case was too important, the security of the country could be at stake, so in the end he slumped his shoulders and sighed. "Fine, I'm in."

"Of course you are, you have been for a while."

"Only in your head. So what's the rush, anyway?"

"I've been on the case for almost a month. He's not easy to approach, but I finally found out who his pimp was, and I questioned one of the professionals I knew often got sent to Smith about the man's preferences… and I realized that they fit you."

"Nice of you to think of me. I so rarely get to work as a hooker nowadays," the hero deadpanned. He could believe the man had been working rather nonstop, though, because he obviously hadn't shaved in a few days.

"Poor you. To keep a long story short, I approached the pimp, told him I had a whore to sell, showed him some naughty pictures of you-"

"Wait, what? Photoshopped I hope?"

"No, I had to take a quick trip to your apartment. Did you sleep 'au naturel' back at the Tower as well?"

"You… were… and.. you…" the hero gaped, lost for words.

"The shower ones were better even better, though. Steamy. But I had a little camera mounted for those, unfortunately."

Robin blushed. When exactly had these photos been taken, because in the shower he often like to… well… relieve stress…

"Why didn't you ask me?!"

"You would pose? In that case you're right; I should have asked you. Then we would have gotten some more interesting positions as well."

"May I borrow your library card for a moment? I'm not sure whether to shoot you or myself, but one of us have to die."

"No," Slade answered, to the point.

Robin had to, again, push everything down and took a breath so deep the oxygen level in the car probably dropped drastically.

"So… we're in a hurry?"

"Yes. My contact, the whore, called. Rick Smith made a reservation for tonight, but, because of a generous donation to said whore, he will call at the last minute and cancel. By that time I will have introduced you and, hopefully, the pimp will decide to send you instead."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Well, at worst you'll have to work the streets for him for a few nights… proving your worth."

"You know I won't do that, don't you?"

"You'd be surprised what you'd do for me."

"Yes, I'm surprised already, but doing anything more than acting like a prostitute? No. How come I just can't switch places with the call-boy? The pimp doesn't even need to know!"

"Ah, but Smith is neurotic. He gives the pimp a password which he then gives to the hooker, just before sending him on his way, and then he sends the hooker's info to Smith. If the wrong face shows up with the right password Smith will pack up and leave within an hour."

"And how will me… seducing him, help you?"

"Because he likes to fuck in his office, but-" Slade interrupted before Robin had had a chance to open his mouth, "my source told me that, when he came by the first time, he got a bit of a tour and they ended up in the bedroom, so there's where I want you to take him. There or as far away from the office as possible. All you have to do is pretend to be a fan."

"I was a fan… until a few minutes ago…" the young man muttered. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Poughkeepsie."

" Poughkeepsie? What the hell is a famous actor doing in Poughkeepsie?"

"Fucking young boys and betraying the country."

"Point taken."

"Said the boy to the man."

"Stop it."

"He added."

"Aren't you supposed to be a hard-ass killing machine, because you sound like someone's old uncle who's had a bit too much to drink at a party and thinks he's funny."

"You liven me up."

"Probably mostly one part of you."

"Who's being someone's uncle now?"

"Just drive."

They sat in silence for a while, Robin pretending to reread the material, although he really didn't need to. It reminded him of what was important, though, and yes, he was sure he was going to be mortified before this was over, but at least they would have, hopefully, stopped one of the biggest security leaks in the history of the U.S.

"Slade?" he asked a bit distantly, as he thought of something. "Why me?"

"I told you, you fit the profile."

"Yes, but so does a lot of people … I mean, if you bribed that guy to lie to his… well, his pimp, why not just bribe him to get the guy into the bedroom? Seriously, he would be better at it than me."

"Undoubtedly. But things can still go wrong in there, and I need someone who can take care of himself, who can fight if need be and who would hit the right man."

"You need someone you can trust."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," Robin smirked. "You trust me."

"Well, it stands to reason. You're a hero."

"Ah. Yes. Got me there. Do you expect it to go downhill then?"

"Never expect to fail."

"Thank you, oh wise one. I just wanted to know what I should do if things do fall apart… hell, what do I do if they don't?! I'm not staying in that bedroom with him!"

"He's good looking."

"Then switch places with me!"

"I would if I could."

"You really mean that, don't you? You would actually seduce someone just to get your way?"

"Trust me, if I had had a bit more time with you…"

"Sure. Would you let him fuck you?"

"There are limits."

"Would you fuck him?"

"Probably."

"You need to find yourself a pimp."

"Want the job?"

"Not even remotely. So what do I do? How do I even know that you've left?"

"Give me twenty minutes."

"That's a long time!"

Slade shrugged. "For some. You must have had disappointing experiences in the bedroom."

"Oh, shut up. And then what?" Robin muttered.

"Fake food poisoning or something. Get out of there. That's another reason I picked you; I know you can think on your feet. And, hopefully, on your back."

"I'm not doing anything with this guy!"

"Well, you better make him believe you are. Ah, we're here."

'Here' turned out to be a thrift-shop and Robin was ushered in behind one of the curtains to a stall to change again.

"These jeans don't have enough waist…" he muttered as he tugged on them.

"They are supposed to hang on your hips," Slade answered from beyond the curtain.

"My boxers are showing."

"Then take them off, you want to show skin, not underwear."

"I do? How strange, I thought I wanted to be fully dressed…" Robin said dryly but, blushing a little, did what Slade asked, because shoving the boxers down didn't work, they just bundled up uncomfortably and peeked out anyway. The black jeans were paired with a grey sleeveless t-shirt with a faded print on it, Robin couldn't make out what it was, and the bottom half was cut off anyway, as the shirt ended a bit above his belly button. That, in combination with the low riding jeans, showed off his whole midriff with his abs and tantalizing v-shape disappearing into the jeans. Robin felt a bit dirty as he studied himself in the mirror, but it wasn't just the sexy kind. "The clothes smell, have they even been washed?"

"It's called getting into character, Robin. Try it."

The hero muttered but finished dressing quickly, and pulled the curtain aside. Slade was waiting for him, but Robin had to blink for a moment to realize that it was him.

"What in the world…?"

"You have your costume, I have mine," the man shrugged. He was dressed in the worst suit Robin could imagine, although the trousers and jacket didn't exactly go together. It was the fact that he had two eyes that threw him at first, though.

"That is new," the former titan remarked and gestured to the man's right eye.

"Not really, I use it from time to time. A patch might be more comfortable, but people also tend to remember it."

"Hey! Keep them up here!" Robin barked as he saw the man's eyes wander downwards. He, himself, however, couldn't help studying Slade, or more specifically, his clothes.

It wasn't a 'pimp' outfit in the 'fur-and-feathers-and bling' style, it more reminded him of a very down-on his luck gangster from the forties. The trousers were black with pinstripes and the jacket a deep navy blue with big shoulder pads the man really didn't need. The jacket was huge as well, though, and now Robin spotted the strangest thing.

"What is this?" he asked and poked the man in the stomach. His much too large stomach.

"Padding. Use your eyes, Robin, not what you already know about me. What do you see?"

The young man stepped back and tried to do what Slade had suggested. What he saw was a big, hulking man, with a slightly stooping back, who obviously wasn't doing so well at the moment, Slade couldn't hide his length, but he had disguised it from "danger" to "lumbering oaf". You still wouldn't want to pick a fight with him, but it wasn't someone you would really respect. Instead of having his hair combed back, the short tresses were now plastered down his forehead, using some kind of oil that made it seem like it had needed a good wash for a while. The stubble also, suddenly, made perfect sense.

"Okay, I see it," he nodded. "And may I say, I have never been less attracted to you in my life."

"Thank you."

"So you're going to break in like that?"

"No, I'm wearing my suit under this, and I've stashed my equipment close by his house. It has to be clear that it's me if I'm spotted, remember?"

"Yeah, right. Sorry, your looks threw me for a second."

"Don't they always?"

"Well… yes."

"Is that so?" the man smirked.

"Yeah… I mean… Slade…" Robin bit his lip and then looked up at the man, "Orange? It's such a horrible color…"

"Come along my little hooker, we have a job to do," the man snorted and grabbed Robin's neck, escorting him out of the store."

"Wait, shouldn't we pay?"

"Do you see anyone in here? I arranged for this, and besides, we left our other clothes in exchange."

"Fine, let's get out of here before I start to itch in places and have to wonder why," the newly appointed prostitute sighed and absentmindedly scratched his groin.

As they parked Slade gave him a beaten up, cheap looking watch, which was actually a tracking device, although it did also tell time… the hero had to wear that because it was so exact that it would inform the man if Robin had been able to lure the suspect away from his office, telling him when to close in on it.

If the thrift store had been a bit shady, the pimp's place was worse. Smelled worse too. Robin hadn't really known that Poughkeepsie had a shady side.

When they got there a thin man in a very loud shirt met them with a scowl on his face.

"You again? Brought your boy this time?"

"Yes… yes, Sir, that I did, Sir," Slade said and Robin almost lost it as the man sounded more than a little bit dimwitted. "Here he is. He's a good boy. Clean. Will do bareback too!"

"If he does bareback I doubt he's clean. So you're willing to sell him, then?" the man asked and started circling Robin, studying him closely like he was a side of prime beef. "Got good teeth? Open up, boy!"

Robin did as he was told, silently cursing Slade to hell and back.

"How old was he?"

"Seventeen, Sir."

To Robin's chagrin the man accepted the fake age with a nod. He did not look that young!

"What's his name?"

"Dick." The hero didn't appreciate that the man used his real name, but it was too late to do anything about that.

"As long as he doesn't act like one, and loves to suck them…" the man snickered. "He looks okay. Good body. Steroids?"

"Yeah, but he's a gym rat…"

"It hasn't messed with his junk, though, has it? And he can handle himself?"

"Sure, I haven't had any complaints…" Robin's 'pimp' claimed. "So, you interested? I have people to pay and such…"

"I guess I could sent him out on a trail-" the man shrugged, and then his phone rang.

Robin gave Slade a panicked look, but the man only nodded calmly towards the phone, indicating that things were going according to plan.

"You little fag, why would you eat at a place like that? You know you had a job tonight you useless piece of crap! One more time and you're back on the street! No more cozy jobs for you! What the hell am I going to do now?" at that moment the man's beady eyes landed on Robin and his expression brightened some. "You better be back tomorrow!" he yelled into the phone and hung up. "I'll take him."

"And my money, Sir?" Slade asked.

"He'll do a job for free tonight. A test-drive is only fair. If he performs well, you'll get your two grand tomorrow."

Two grand? That was what a human life was worth? Robin thought dryly to himself, somewhat insulted.

"Okay… so when should I bring him back?"

"He stays here, smells like he needs a shower anyway, and he has to get ready for the client. Hey kid?" the man grabbed a fistful of hair on the side of Robin's head and shook him slightly, just like some people almost violently pet their dogs. "You'll be a good kid and stay around, won't you? Or that face of yours won't be worth much once my guys are through with you. Ain't nowhere you can hide from us, but I'll treat you well if you do a good job, you hear?"

"Y-yes, Sir," the hero answered, a bit dizzy by the treatment.

"Good to hear! Motts, what are you still doing here? Scram! You'll get your fucking money tomorrow!"

Robin realized that the man was talking to Slade, and gave the man a look. The mercenary raised an eyebrow, just a fraction, and Robin gave him a just as small nod. He could handle this. It sounded like he would only be here a short while anyway, and he knew Slade would have the suspect's house under surveillance very soon. Besides, he was wearing the tracker, so the man would know where he was. On the other hand, the hero didn't know how interested he would be about actually doing anything about it if things took a wrong turn, and even if it didn't how could he not be sure that the man just wouldn't leave him after getting what he came for? Not that Robin feared getting raped, knocking out an actor wouldn't exactly be a challenge, and not escaping from his house either, but getting home from Poughkeepsie without a dime on him, wearing what he was? That would not be fun.

It turned out, however, that he was up for another wardrobe change. His 'new pimp' took him upstairs and showed him small, simple bedroom.

"You can stay here. Most of my boys and girls have their own places, but since you're not from town I guess you don't?"

"No, Sir," Robin replied noncommittally.

"How long have you been with Motts?"

"A while." He hadn't gotten any background information from Slade so he had no idea what the man had told the pimp. Sloppy. He would love to rub that in the man's face later.

"And why is he getting rid of you?"

"Reasons." Robin decided to do the 'sullen teen' act.

"Not a man of many words, are you?" the pimp snorted. "Wait here."

Robin did, a bit nervously. The guy returned with new clothes for him and the hero blinked.

"Is that…?"

"A school boy uniform, yes. The client has a kink. Don't worry, you'll be driven to the location, but don't for a second act like it's a stupid uniform."

"Um… should I… you know… act like a kid too?" he asked, feeling a bit nauseous.

"No, but some enthusiasm will probably be appreciated," the man smirked. "The bathroom is out in the hall, make sure you shower properly, and there's stuff there to help you clean out as well. I noticed that your nails look fine, but make sure your toenails do to. I'm all about detail."

"Yes Sir," Robin nodded.

The shower, and getting out of the smelly clothes, was appreciated, but there was no way he was going to use that bulb thing to 'clean himself out', after all he didn't plan to do anything with this guy, and he doubted the pimp would check. If he did, then… then screw Slade. The man would have to think up another idea to do his own damn job, that's for sure.

After that it was just a matter of waiting in the room for a while and then the pimp returned.

"You'll be taken to the address, like I said. The password is boy-toy, and, very important, kid, you keep your mouth shut about your clients, especially this one. No talking, even to the other whores."

"What, he's famous or something?" Robin asked.

"You'll see. And you better act like a fan."

"Yes, Sir."

"Hmmm…" the pimp said. "Normally I would have had to have a boy your age beaten or drugged by now… you might just be a good buy. Continue like this and your share of the profits will go up. You can set an example for the others."

"Yes, Sir," Robin nodded again, He had had no idea how to act, after all. He couldn't help but laugh at the inside at the thought of the look on Alfred's face if he would tell him how he had used the good manners that had been engraved into his backbone since he was eight.

The man then took a picture of him with his cell phone, to send to the client, the hero deducted, and then sent him on his way.

The car ride wasn't that long and soon Robin found himself in front of a closed solid gate, pushing a button.

"Look up into the camera please," came a voice. When he did as he was asked it added. "Password?"

"Boy-toy".

"Come in." The gate buzzed and clicked open. He was feeling ridiculous in grey shorts, a white shirt and striped blue and grey tie, a blazer in dark blue, and white short socks with black, shiny shoes. The clothes were straining, not made for his muscular arms, but it was what they represented that felt worse; that he was pretending to be younger. Too young.

He walked up the door which was opened by the actor himself. So far Robin hadn't seen any human security, but if the man was as neurotic as Slade claimed, he wasn't surprised: those kinds of men relied more on technology and thick walls.

"Wow, you're-" Robin gaped, making his eyes wide as he pretended to be surprised.

"Yes," the man simply answered, but the hero could see him preening.

"Wow, I love you! I… I mean… I love your movies, Sir… I'm sorry…I didn't mean to act all… yeah…"

"No harm done, my boy," the actor said and wound an arm around Robin's shoulders, pulling him along further into the house. At the end of a wide hall the hero could see an open door, and the edge of a desk. The office. Where the man preferred to fuck. Which Slade needed to search. They couldn't go there.

"What's your name? I haven't had you before, have I?"

"No, Sir, I'm new. My name is Dick," Robin answered.

"I'll call you Teddy, Nothing personal, I just like to call my boys Teddy," the man leered.

"It's fine, Sir," Robin smiled back, trying to look star struck. "Wow… I never thought I'd get to meet someone like you…"

"I never thought I'd get to fuck such an eloquent little whore like you," the man laughed, and Robin had to fight to not have his smile flicker into disgust.

Well, you won't get to, you damn perv… he thought to himself. It was so strange how those brown eyes and deep dimples that half the world was swooning over could suddenly be in the face of a monster. They were still heading towards the open office so Robin stopped in front of a painting.

"This is amazing!"

"Of course it is, it's a Degas,"

"Yeah, the founder of Impressionism," Robin let slip before he could help himself.

"How did you know that?"

The ability to think on his feet that Slade had commented on, really got in handy right now.

"I'm an art student," Robin said, "It's just that… I got kicked out by my boyfriend and it's expensive…"

"So you decided to whore yourself out?"

"Well, I like cock…" Robin leered. "Besides, I was promised that I'd only have high-end clients."

"And you're at college? I thought you were seventeen?"

"I got to skip a year," Robin shrugged. "I'm pretty smart for a slut…" he added with another, what he hoped was, flirty grin.

Smith gave him a look, but his fears were clearly laid to rest, and he seemed even more intrigued now, but he was clearly ready to head away from the painting.

"I bet you must have an fantastic bed! Can't wait to see it!" Robin said quickly.

"Actually, we're going to my office," the man told him.

"Awww! I mean, anywhere, of course, Sir, but damn… to see the inside of Rick Smith's bedroom… I mean… That would be a dream come true! A very wet dream…" he added in a sultry voice.

"Very well, I guess I can at least give you a quick tour," the actor smiled, flattery apparently working very well on him, and then, instead of going straight ahead, Robin was led up a flight of stairs. He mentally noted the time.

Twenty minutes, Slade, and not a fucking second more… he growled to himself. He aah-ed and ooh-ed at everything he could think of, like a overly-enthusiastic tourist at a museum, but eventually, there was the bedroom. He managed to get the guy to talk about an award plaque on his wall for a few minutes, but soon hands were beginning to feel him up from behind.

"You look really cute in that uniform…" the actor mumbled in his ear.

"Thank you, Sir," Robin purred, before he was turned around. He understood what was going to happen just a moment before it did, and then the man's lips covered his own. The kiss wasn't horrible, as such, maybe a bit more demanding than the man could really pull off, though. Robin had been with men who truly knew how to take control, and he very much suspected that Slade was one of those men, but the too-pretty actor felt like a fake. Still, he clearly wanted to be the boss, so Robin would let him. He checked the time. Only seven minutes had gone by. Fuck.

"Why don't we go downstairs, and-" the man said, and Robin almost panicked, knowing Slade would be there.

"No, I want you now!" he said and pulled the man towards the bed. "I can't wait… please Sir?"

The guy chuckled and soon they were on the bed, much further than Robin had ever wanted to get, and the hero's blazer was long gone. The man was the school uniform tie in his hands, and leered.

" I'm gonna tie you up with this and fuck you so hard…" he said.

Robin, although he was a bit of an escape artist, did not want to be tied down, however, and rolled them both over until he straddled the guy instead, smiling down on him as cutely as he could muster.

"Let me just get my shirt off, okay?" he said and began to slowly, slowly, unbutton it, as he rubbed his ass against the man's crotch. the man was either not fully hard or not really packing much, but he seemed to enjoy the show. The slow striptease eventually had all the buttons open, and Robin let the shirt slip down over his shoulders.

"Those are quite some abs," the man said and ran his hands over Robin's skin.

"Mmm… I bet you look even more gorgeous naked…" the hero grinned, subtly checking the time again. Eleven minutes. Was time moving backwards? "Let me undress you? Please?" the guy nodded, and Robin went on, still as slowly as he could.

"Wouldn't mind some of those pretty lips on me…" the man suggested, and the former Titan swallowed down some bile before beginning to kiss and lick every inch of skin he uncovered. He had never been intimate with anyone he wasn't turned on by before and he had no idea how actual prostitutes even managed it. When the actor was naked apart from his boxers, and yes, it seemed like he had been fully hard after all, Robin returned to straddling him and bending down to kiss his lips instead. It was better than the alternative of removing the underwear anyway. The minutes ticked by slowly, and it became clearer and clearer that the man wanted more than making out. Robin thought he must be getting bruises on his ass from the way the guy groped him. He was still wearing his shorts, though, and even his shoes, and didn't intend to lose them. A last glance at the clock and it showed 19 minutes. Robin was going to give Slade as much extra time as he could, but this was as much molesting he could take. He froze, winced, and cradled his stomach.

"What?" Smith asked.

"I'm not… where is the bathroom?"

Like Robin had hoped there was an attached bathroom which the man pointed at, and he ran there, and locked the door. Looking around he grabbed a large bottle of mouthwash, wrenched the whole top of and faked retching-noises as he poured the bottle into the toilet for sound effect.

"Are you sick? Are you on drugs? If you're OD'ing you get the fuck out! I'm not having some whore dying in my house!"

"I just… ate a bad kebab…" Robin grunted. "I'm sorry… I…" he then faked the heaving once more. He stayed in there as long as he dared, keeping the man talking through the door so he wouldn't go anywhere. When it had been close to ten minutes, however, the hero decided to go. He opened the door, grabbed his shirt and started to leave while loudly making excuses. If Slade was still down there, he would know they were coming.

"I'm so sorry, Sir, I have to go. I'm not feeling well at all. I promise I'll make it up to you, just call…" Robin then realized he didn't know the pimp's name. Apparently it wasn't just Slade that had been sloppy about getting the facts straight. "Just call and I'll give you one free, okay?" The actor wasn't exactly eager to keep a sick, possibly contagious, prostitute, so he shooed him through the door and out the gate so quickly Robin had barely time to blink.

When outside, only an empty street was waiting for him.

"And I thought getting home in the other clothes would be bad…" the hero muttered, glaring down on his shorts as he shrugged his shirt on. He was not going to hang around here until his 'pimp' got word that he'd left and sent a car to pick him up, after all, so he started walking down the street. It was so late in the night, or rather, early in the morning, that there were no one else around, including Slade.

"If you left me behind you bastard, I'm going to-"

"Going to do what?" Robin jumped at the voice which came from an alley he was just passing. "You really should pay better attention…" Slade moved in front of him, wearing his full uniform, including his mask which he now took off.

"Yeah, well, this time I'm glad to see you…" the hero muttered.

"Ditto. I've been waiting. Did you have so much fun?"

"Are you kidding? I've spent the last ten minutes in the bathroom faking throwing up, and that was the fun part. God, he kissed me, Slade! And his hands all over my body… I don't know how I'll ever get that out of my mind-umf!" Slade had grabbed the front of the hero's open shirt and half pulled, half lifted him, towards himself, the man's lips crashing against his own.

Robin would never admit it willingly, but his mind actually went blank for several seconds. If someone pushed him, however, he would claim it was because of shock. Shock which also made him wind his arms around the mercenary's neck and kiss him back.

As they parted, the man looked even smugger than usual.

"Did that take the other thing off your mind?" he asked.

"What… other thing?" Robin mumbled but then blinked once and came back to his senses. "You kissed me!"

"Yes."

"Why?!"

"Why? How many reasons can there be to kiss someone?"

Robin mulled it over. "Ah, you want something."

"Precisely."

"Great. I've just help you with a CIA mission- how did that go by the way?"

"Got all they wanted right here," the man said and patted his belt.

"Well, that's good. But, yeah, I've helped you, and you want more? That's just lovely."

"I'm not sure you understood what I meant," the man smirked.

"What do you mean? What can 'want' mean besides… oh."

"I see that switched on a light."

"Are you serious?" Robin still couldn't quite believe it.

"Yes. Very."

"You and me?"

"Preferably, yes, unless you want more people involved."

"How long have you…"

"Let's just say I didn't exactly own the CIA a favor. They approached me for the job and when I realized that you fit Smith's preferences, I volunteered."

"So you threaten me into coming with you, pushed me into accepting the mission, sold me off as a prostitute, let me do all the real work and now I'm supposed to swoon in your arms and tell you that I'm yours?"

"That would make things easier, yes," the man deadpanned.

Robin remained quiet for a moment as he glared at the man.

"You owe me," he then said darkly. "And," he added grabbing the man's neck again, pulling him down, "You'll owe me so much more before morning…"

The End.

A/N:Hope you liked it! I sure did, anyway… ;)