A/N: Long time no see! Random one shot here.
FYI: I've started editing old stories for spelling mistakes and such… Black Sheep 1 and 2 are finished, number 3 is in progress. They will still have mistakes, of course, but I didn't learn how to punctuate dialogue until Black Sheep 3 so at least that's taken care of. Nothing about the stories themselves is changed, though!
Here's the story. One shot and no warnings.
His I.C.E.
Robin grinned to himself. He had spent almost a week going through data and working with the transmitters he had found inside both some 'confiscated' slade-bots and the cameras he knew the man had placed around the city and he was sure he had now found the transmitting frequency Slade was using. He might be able to use it to find the man's headquarters or at least the transmitter, and if he could destroy that he would cause the one-eyed bastard quite a lot of trouble. He looked up from his workbench, the smile still on his face and a shout of triumph on his lips. The sound died, however, when he realized that he was alone. His team was away on a diplomatic mission with the Justice League for two months. They weren't even on the planet and wouldn't return for another seven weeks, at least. Robin had offered to hold the fort, so to speak, as he had just come across the idea of tracking Slade's signals when they were supposed to leave. Besides, he'd been with Batman on similar missions and they all consisted of endless meetings and socializing. Not exactly for him. Batman had stayed behind himself, as had Superman, and the latter the teen had on 'speed dial' if anything big would hit the city.
Robin touched the belt pocket where he kept the small extra communicator. Four days ago he had used it when a slime monster the size of Godzilla suddenly decided to make Jump its nesting ground. Even Robin knew that he was in over his head there. It had been fun to fight with Superman, though. Really fun. The shower they had shared afterwards… well, that part had never happened of course, but the teen blushed and grinned even wider at the fantasy. Clark was… pretty hot. A bit too 'nice' though, weirdly enough. Maybe naïve? He didn't know there was just something about him, besides the fact that he was as straight as they came, which didn't quite fit the teen's requirements. Still… fantasies didn't hurt.
Robin took out his team communicator and added the newly found frequency to it for now. He might be able to pick it up when he was out and about, although he should put together a special scanner for it, he supposed. He decided to get on that after getting something to eat. After Superman showed up in the city the usual villains had been very quiet and that suited Robin perfectly as he had let himself get submerged in his work. He tended to forget about regular mealtimes when that happened, however, and he was now starving.
His brain was at full speed, going through all the possible ways to track and use the frequency. At this point he could send a signal to it, but that wouldn't do much good. Slade would easily be able to track it though, but Robin wasn't in a position to set a trap for him right now. He preferred a sneakier way of doing things, at least as long as he was alone. It didn't occur to him for a moment to wait until his team came back; quite the opposite. The teen knew that he was quite possessive about Slade, but to be fair it seemed to work both ways. Slade usually only acknowledged him when they ran into each other, not his team. Robin frowned down on his now empty plate as he considered that. Then he vaguely wondered where his sandwich had gone. He felt full, though, so he deducted that he must have eaten it without realizing. He was just emptying his glass of milk when the alarm went off. He jumped up from the chair, ready for some action.
The police had been put on high alert after being informed that most of the Titans would be away, and the alarm system had been modified to only go off if there was something a bit more serious going on. It turned out two crime families who had been at each other's throats for years had suddenly joined up and gone ballistic in one of Jump's shadier neighborhoods. The hero was first a bit confused as he tried to judge the situation because half of the people seemed very happy about something while the other half was destroying everything in their path, including beating up people. Soon Robin realized that there had been a wedding, joining the two families and now they had decided to show the neighborhood who was on the top of the food chain.
Robin knew he couldn't possibly deal with this all by himself, but the police was out full force and it seemed a bit too early to call in Superman. He spotted a gang of the more violent celebrators and decided to take them out for starters. There were eleven of them and they didn't seem quite as drunk as some of the others. They were armed with bats and knives but Robin knew they might have guns as well. He didn't want to do this in a flashy way, he needed to be smart about it, so he jumped down behind the group and took out two of the guys at the back with a couple of quick punches. Someone unfortunately turned around, and soon the element of surprise was ruined.
He held his own well enough until something suddenly punched him hard in the neck and back. He fell to his knees and the remaining five men let out guttural growls as they attacked full force. They had entered some sort of frenzy, a blood lust Robin knew could occur in a melee type situation, but he had only seen it once or twice back in Gotham. He received quite a few blows before he made it to his feet again. The men called out for friends and Robin became an even bigger target. A blow to his side almost made him unable to breathe and he felt ribs snap. Enough. He needed backup. Badly. He reached for the Superman communicator but the pocket it had been stored in had been hit. As it was just a temporary gadget Robin hadn't put it in a protective case. It was ruined. He cried out as a knife stabbed into his arm. He had to get away. Now! He managed to kick a few people down and make himself some space, only to have another blade graze his thigh.
He reached for his smoke pellets, but not the usual ones. Instead he chose some he saved only for emergencies as they could actually harm the attacker. They were his own mix and would have an effect of teargas and mild sedatives. He was at a point where he didn't quite care if any of his attackers had respiratory problems, but still he found himself having a slight concern about it as he quickly put on a breathing mask and threw the pellets. He almost rolled his eyes at himself. He was apparently a hero to the very bone.
As he turned to make a break for it his arm was grabbed and he was swung around into the closest wall. He heard the pop of his arm tearing out of its socket before he felt the pain. His attacker got a foot in the face and was then too occupied trying to breathe to attack again.
Robin then did something he hadn't done in a long time; he fled. He ran on adrenaline now, ducking into an abandoned alley, not quite sure where it led. He needed to get away before more people came after him and the smoke dissipated, however. If he didn't he knew he would die. The mob would tear him apart. Literally.
The sounds from the fights had died down by now, but he was far from safe. He needed to get up on the roof, but with one arm completely out of commission, the other one stabbed and some of his fingers not looking quite like they should, using the grapple hook or climbing up the wall was impossible. As the adrenaline faded the pain caught up. His breathing felt wet and heavy. He spit on the ground. Blood. From a split lip or his lungs? He didn't know. His vision started to fade. He needed help. Now. He pulled out his communicator but then realized that no one would be able to hear his distress signal. He had a line to Titans East, but they were on the other side of the continent and not even Más y Menos would be able to get here quick enough. Robin's fingers hesitated, but in the end there was really only one person he could call.
The signal was sent and he pulled himself into the darkest corner he could find where he sank down against the wall. He was dizzy, he could barely see and his body twitched as pain throbbed thorough it with every erratic beating of his heart.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he felt the earth tremble somewhat underneath him and he heard the thud of someone or something hitting the ground close by. He curled up tighter, instincts telling him to hide. The sound of footsteps. The darkness got even darker as something blocked the faint light from the sky above him. Robin managed to gather his strength enough to lift his head. He couldn't keep it up, though, and it slumped back against the wall behind him, but at least he would face however it was. Death or salvation. He could barely see, but by the outline of the man above him he could easily identify him. However he still wasn't sure about the death or salvation part.
The outline tilted his head a little bit.
"You rang?"
Robin tried to reply, but his body had reached its limit and darkness was sweeping in. He heard himself making a small, keening sound of pain and then everything went black.
He woke up to a throbbing pain all over his body. He was lying on something flat, padded but quite hard. His upper body was slightly raised. He forced himself to open his eyes. There was a strange, dry taste in his mouth like he had been out for a while, and he was pretty sure he had been drugged. Everything felt too… slow.
Turning his head he saw Slade standing across the small room, looking at some papers. Whatever he was laying on –a paper sheet Robin thought− made a soft sound as he moved. The man looked up at him immediately.
"Awake, I see."
Robin couldn't exactly deny it, but his tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth and he chose to only nod slightly. Pain shot through his body when he did and he grimaced, regretting moving.
Slade came closer; all the way up to what the teen now assumed was an examination table or gurney of some kind.
"Suspected concussions, one dislocated shoulder, two dislocated fingers, one broken, three broken ribs, and I've given you over twenty stitches on three different parts of your body… having a bad day?" the man's voice was dry and somewhat amused, which made Robin want to growl. Not that he had the energy to.
"A bit," he managed to croak out. Slade handed him a glass of water, carefully helping the teen to sit up a little bit more and holding the glass so he could drink. Robin discovered that one of his hands was carefully taped up making most of his fingers apart from his thumb and little finger useless and his other arm was held in place against his chest with some gauze, to make it easier on his shoulder he suspected. He blushed from receiving the help. The man's uniform –metal and kevlar− felt cold and rough against his skin. At that point Robin fully realized that his chest and legs were bare. The only thing he was wearing was his boxer briefs.
"You… you undressed me?"
"You wanted me to check your ribs and stitch you up through the clothes?" the man snorted.
"No, I… sorry, it's just… weird." Robin apologized. He had been raised well enough to have some manners. Then he gasped and lifted his injured hand to his face. His mask was still there.
"It's somewhat 'weird' for me to get emergency calls from injured heroes as well," Slade told him. "And no, I didn't touch your mask. I wanted to, to check your eyes, but I decided against breaking that silly code of conduct and wait for you to wake up."
"Thank you," Robin repeated softly.
"It's not like I don't know who you are already."
The teen's heart stopped for a moment.
"You… you do?"
"I know Batman personally."
"I don't buy that."
"His name is Bruce Wayne and his dress shirts are a bit tight on me."
"I… what?" Robin blinked, thinking that his head must have been hit harder than he thought.
"Long story. Anyway, I called Bats and told him I'd scraped you off the ground."
Well, that was one thing Robin was not going to believe for one second.
"Sure you did."
"Here," Slade handed him his communicator. "He told you to check in when you woke up."
The teen freed his arm from the sling and almost snatched the device from the mercenary's hands. He called up the Batcave, entering the special code he had. Sometimes Bruce wasn't masked when answering, and sometimes Alfred was manning the computer, so the code was a security feature, even towards his own team.
This time it was Batman answering and judging by how thin his lips looked he was either worried or annoyed. Hard to tell.
"Batman?"
"Deathstroke tells me you hit your head, but I hope you still at least remember me," the man drawled.
"Death- oh." The teen realized it must be one of Slade's aliases. "Yeah, I'm a bit… beat up. Wait, how do I know you're real and not a recording or digital copy or something? What was my favorite porridge when I was little?"
The man on the screen just looked at him blankly for so long that Robin actually started to think it had been a recording controlled by Slade somehow. Then Bruce sighed.
"How am I supposed to know that? Alfred!" he called over his shoulder. "What was Dick's favorite porridge?"
"Oatmeal with apples and cinnamon, Master Wayne," replied the voice of the butler off screen.
"Yeah, well… okay." Robin nodded and then winced again. "Ow, my neck."
"Be careful, Slade already sent me your stats and the surveillance he had of the event. It was close there, kid." Again annoyance and worry seemed to mix, this time in the man's voice.
"I should have been able to take them, but someone must have sneaked up behind me," Robin almost whined.
"I was wondering about that too," Slade told him. "You're not useless after all. That's why I looked at the surveillance, and you were hit by a piece of a lamp post falling over. It had almost gotten torn down in the riot and you were just very unlucky."
"Well, that helps my pride a little," Robin muttered.
"Do you want to come back to Gotham to recuperate?" Bruce asked.
"What? No, no… I'm just going to go home," Robin told his guardian.
"Out of the question. You might have a concussion and other undiscovered injuries. You either stay with Slade or you come home. I don't want you alone right now."
Robin rolled his eyes, but even that hurt. Maybe Bruce was right. "I'm staying here, then."
"Suit yourself. Slade, you better take good care of him or I'm going to personally make sure you will be able to legally park in handicap spaces from now on."
Robin snickered and glanced up at Slade, who shrugged.
"I'd better do my best, then."
"You'd better," Batman growled. "And Robin, why didn't you send an emergency signal to Superman?"
The teen explained about the broken communicator.
"And you didn't think of calling me? I could have contacted him," Batman said.
"I was losing consciousness fast… Don't think I would have made it long enough to dial."
"Well, I'm glad you had an option, then. Despite Slade being a soulless coldhearted killer he's not that bad of a guy." Batman's voice was dripping with irony.
"Well, thank you," Slade said dryly. "I try."
"Still can't believe you want me to stay with him," Robin muttered.
"He keeps his promises," Bruce shrugged. "Your identity is much safer with him than at a hospital. If you should need more medical attention, though…"
"I have some connections," Slade told him.
"Alright. Take care, Robin. Call me with an update tomorrow, will you?"
"Yes, Sir," the teen sighed. "Say hi to Alfred from me, ok?"
"I will. He has cookies in the oven for you. I'm sure he'll have Superman fly them over to you while they are still warm."
"Yes, because everyone is invited to my headquarters. I should put up a sign," Slade drawled.
"I would at least open a window or he's going to come through the wall," Batman said smugly. "Don't worry, Robin, I know exactly where you are, should something happen."
"Wait, you said you trusted him!" the teen objected.
"Well… yes." his guardian shrugged. "Just in case, though."
"Great," Robin sighed but then gave the man a smile. "Alright, I'll be in touch. Bye."
He felt a bit awkward after ending the call, suddenly being alone with his arch nemesis again. Well… supposedly arch nemesis.
"Seems I don't know much about you," Robin admitted. "No kidnapping this time, then? No apprentice talk?"
The man scoffed. "I believe Trigon put an end to all that nonsense, don't you?"
"You admit you were wrong?" Robin blinked, wondering about that head injury again.
"I do. I saw some amazing raw talent being squandered away in what I perceived as a subpar team… but they proved themselves against the demon. And you're not the kind of person who thrives under control."
"I… umm… thanks?"
"To be clear I still think you should leave them and join me."
"Of course."
"That's a compliment."
"Naturally. I'm flattered."
"You should be. Now take off that mask and let me check your eyes," the man said and pulled out a flash light.
"I never in a million years thought you'd call Batman," the teen said as he, very, very carefully, peeled his mask off.
"Well, I knew that if you disappeared Superman would come and snoop around, and as I had no intention of abducting you this time I thought it was best to play this hand with open cards."
"You're soooo nice and considerate," Robin grinned. "Ow!" he added as the man touched the side of his brow.
"Close to splitting, but it seems I'm going to save a bit of thread. How's your vision?"
"Well, I have to look at you, but other than that…"
"Surprisingly rude. I like it," the man chuckled. "Although I do have to tell Alfred about it. After his cookies get here. Of which I'm now going to have half."
"Surprisingly funny. I guess I have to take that information to the grave, because no one would believe me," Robin quipped back.
"Alright boy, let's continue. Tell me where it hurts."
It turned out it hurt pretty much everywhere, but apart from a twisted ankle the rest was soft tissue damage. Robin would be black and blue all over soon enough, though, something Slade seemed to take some delight in informing him about.
"Do you have a fever? You looked flushed." Slade's now bare hand touched Robin's forehead. It was because of the man's hands touching him everywhere that his face was red, though, so the hero just shook his head quickly and put his hands in his lap.
"No! I… where the hell are my clothes?"
"Ah." The man seemed to comprehend the situation and appeared amused. "I'll find you something."
"And why haven't you taken off your mask yet?" Robin snapped at him. "As we're all getting so familiar."
"Don't fret; there's a limit to how familiar we're going to get." The man openly chuckled. "But as good old Bruce knows my face, then why not? First let me get you something to wear. Your uniform is out of the question, it's too tight on your injuries."
Slade disappeared through a door and Robin let himself relax against the table. His embarrassing bodily reaction had died down, and luckily it hadn't gone too far, but Slade had still apparently noticed. Maybe he should just go back out to the gangsters and let them finish what they started?
He looked around the room. It was small. Bare but clean. No windows. Slade had closed the door after himself and Robin very much hoped that the man didn't expect him to stay in here while he healed. He could go back to the tower and Slade could check on him there? No, he decided, letting the wolf in was rarely a good idea.
He looked up as the door opened and Slade returned with a standard while button-down shirt which Robin, once he had managed to sit up and gingerly put it on, felt like he was drowning in. It must be Slade's. He felt his cheeks growing somewhat hotter again. Next was a pair of sweatpants which were an even worse fit, but they had a drawstring Robin used to its fullest capacity to keep them on.
"You won't win any fashion shows," the man said.
"I don't think you actually win at those…" Robin muttered. "They aren't competitions."
"Oh? Oh, well, I wouldn't know. Not exactly my scene. And designers are seldom on anyone's hit list." The man shrugged and then, with Robin's eyes glued to the procedure, raised his hands to his mask. There was a click and the metal came apart.
"…" the teen couldn't find the words.
"I look that scary?" Slade wanted to know.
"Huh? No! No, just…"
"Older?"
Robin shook his head. "I'm a detective. Your voice and the way you generally speak gave away that you were older than Batman… You're a meta human, aren't you? Maybe older than you look? I mean, besides the white hair and some lines, you don't look ancient…"
"Well, thank you," the man drawled.
Robin blushed again. "Sorry, I was just-"
"Analyzing. I know. But yes, I'm a meta. To make a long story short; military experiment."
"Ah. What-?"
Slade raised a hand. "That's enough about me. Are you hungry?"
"Starving," the teen realized and shuffled off the bed. "Which way to the kitchen?"
"Stay here and-"
"Nope." Robin headed, limping badly, towards the door. "You're not keeping me in here."
"Apparently not," an amused voice said behind him as he opened the door. "I mean, there's no way I can actually stop you, is there? I'm completely helpless here…"
"You're good with sarcasm, how's your cooking skill?" Robin, who had expected to be stopped but wasn't, grinned.
"You'll live. From the food, anyway," the man muttered and came up alongside him. "Would you like some help to walk?"
"I'm fine."
"Alright. Then would you like to have some directions, since you're limping the wrong way?"
Robin wanted to explore the compound but his body was the one setting the limits, not Slade. It was clear that the man had hoped not to have to give the location of his base away, but he couldn't keep the teen locked up as he was officially a 'guest'. Robin took full advantage of this freedom of course, looking around curiously, but he was severely hindered by the fact that every movement hurt. Soon they managed to reach the kitchen and like everything else here it was spotlessly clean but bare. Slade seemed to like the Spartan style. Either that or he just couldn't be bothered. The teen suspected it was the last thing because he himself didn't put much time into decoration.
Slade presented him with store bought sandwiched which tasted a bit of refrigerator, but the hero didn't care; he scarfed them down and looked for more.
"I didn't even have time to get you something to drink. Milk? Coffee? Juice?" Slade pointed out.
"Yes," Robin answered seriously and got a chuckle in return.
"I see." Slade proceeded to pour him a big glass of milk and had just put it in front of him when there was a very resounding knock from somewhere.
"Stay here," the mercenary ordered, suddenly looking tense. A moment later he was back, though, and his expression had changed to one more exasperated.
"Your cookies are here," he muttered and stepped aside, allowing Superman to entry.
Robin almost choked on his milk.
"What, Alfred really-? Great, I'm starving!"
"You're not feeding him?" the Kryptonian asked Slade sternly. The expression might make some people nervous, but the mercenary just stared blankly back.
"No, I just brought him into the kitchen to torture him," he drawled.
A second ticked by before Superman decided that the villain was joking and turned to Robin.
"Your cookies," he said, handing over a box.
"Thanks… you shouldn't have had to come over for that," the teen almost groaned. "Sorry."
"I came to check on you. Besides, I got some cookies for the trouble," the big man grinned. "You can't say no to Alfred's cookies."
"True," Robin grinned back.
The older hero's hand landed on the teen's shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Robin blushed a little.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm ok. Just a bit beat up."
The man's hand curled gently around his neck, making Robin's blush deepen.
"More than a bit. Hold still, I'm going to check… Your ribs are aligned well, at least. You did a good job there, Deathstroke."
"Of course," the mercenary muttered.
"No more breaks as far as I can see. You're out for commission for a while, though. Six weeks at least. I'd say ten to get in shape."
"I don't think it will be that long," Robin shrugged and then groaned from the pain.
"I do," Superman said sternly.
"I will make sure he won't overwork himself," Slade offered.
"I appreciate the thought, Slade, but as soon as my team comes back I'm out of here," Robin snorted. "And I don't need your help."
"I don't know, Robin," Superman said thoughtfully. "Your team might enable you more than anything, letting you push yourself too hard before you're ready… maybe you should accept the offer."
"Is everyone on Team Slade today? Is this opposite day?" Robin muttered. "I don't need a 'dad', okay? And definitely not two of you." He glared at the men who, in turn, gave each other a look.
"We could always call Batman and ask him," Slade suggested in an overly sweet way.
Robin turned to Superman. "Aren't you supposed to protect people?!"
"I am. You're seriously injured, Robin," the man said gently. "But don't worry! With the right care and exercise you will be back out there in no time."
"It doesn't even hurt that much!" Robin lied.
"You are on an immense amount of pain killers," Slade said dryly.
"I am?" the teen blinked, actually feeling worried now.
"Oh yes. They will wear off in about an hour or so."
And they did. Robin was on a bed, but not in the room he had woken up in. This one looked a bit better and the bed was a real one. Big as well. The teen barely noticed, though, and cared even less. He had enough problems alternating trying to not to breathe and gasping for breath.
He was used to pain. He was used to working through it, keeping it pushed down, but he was at the end of his rope here. He had been hurt worse but never all over like this, and he had long since decided to incorporate some more serious ribcage protection in his next suit. Injured ribs hurt like hell. He was even fighting to hold back tears. Robin growled. The whole thing was ridiculous!
"Slade!" he half gasped, half shouted. The man soon appeared in the open doorway.
"You rang? Again?" Slade was now out of uniform, instead wearing a black button-down shirt and slacks. It was strange to see him like that, but Robin found himself grudgingly liking the sight.
"It hurts. Bad."
"I know."
"Then give me something!"
"I've already told you; I've given you the max dose I can."
"It didn't hurt like this before!"
"Well, then you were on morphine. Trust me; you don't want more of that."
"Trust me; I do!"
"Well, in that case I don't want you to have more than that. If I accidently turned you into a morphine junkie Batman might actually get dangerous."
"Just a little?"
"No. But I can take your mind of the pain?"
"Yes please! Do anything!"
"Hmmm…" the man leered. "Quite the invitation… But sticking to my initial plan; I noticed that you have a little crush on Superman."
"Wha-what?!"
"It's cute. You might want to put yourself in danger a bit more; those people seem more his type."
"I- I'm not-! I… I…"
"You were quite obvious. Luckily the alien oaf is a bit too dumb to notice."
"Oh, god…" Robin groaned.
"I have to say that I'm somewhat offended. I'm much more your type."
"You…? I…? My…? I…"
"You're not in so much pain now, are you?" the man chuckled and then left the room.
He was right, though. Robin hadn't even thought of not being able to breathe for the last minute or so.
After a while Slade came back with towels, asking Robin if he wanted to have a shower.
"Yes!" the teen exclaimed, the man had cleaned up the worst of the blood before dressing and sometimes stitching his wounds, but he felt far from fresh. Then he tried to sit up and sank back against the bed immediately. "No."
"You change your mind quickly," Slade snorted.
"I can't move."
"Your muscles have stiffened up. A shower would be good for you. I'll just cover your wounds with plastic, and-"
"I can't move. At all. I can't even undress," Robin tired to explain further between clenched teeth. It went against every part of his natural instinct to tell Slade of all people about his weaknesses.
"I'll help you, then."
"You will do no such thing!"
"You're on my bed. I won't let you sleep in it covered in grime."
"Your bed?"
"What? You thought I had a guest bedroom at my base?" the man snorted. "Don't get excited, you're too injured to use it for anything else but resting."
"Could you stop coming on to me?" Robin growled.
"That's enough from you." The man said, bent down and calmly but firmly started pulling Robin's clothes off.
"No! Stop!" Robin yelled. "OW! Fuck, that hurt!"
"Then stop being difficult. This is happening," Slade told him as he removed the last piece of clothing. "There. Now into the shower or I'll carry you."
"No!" Robin yelled as he tried to curl up to cover himself.
"This will be bad for your ribs," the mercenary muttered and then simply lifted the teen from the bed.
"AH!" Robin gasped as the pain intensified.
"You only have yourself to blame," the man let him know.
"Funnily enough I'm blaming you just a little bit too!" the hero snarled up at him.
"Misplaced anger. Common after shock."
"Stop chuckling!"
"Stop fighting this. Not everything needs to be a fight, boy."
"Yeah it does! Everything concerning you!"
"I wonder if you will get less angry when you start to fall for me, or more so…?"
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU BASTARD?!"
"Ah, that might be a sign right there. Young love. Don't worry, I'll let you down gently."
"I'M NOT- Wait, what do you mean, letting me down? You'd be over the moon thrilled if I even liked you!"
"Of course," the man replied lightly. "And here we are. Do you think you could at least stand still in the shower or do I have to go get the handcuffs?"
"Handcuffs?!" Robin spluttered.
"As you wish-"
"No! I meant- I'll stay still, just let me down already!" the teen promised. "You have handcuffs?" he added.
"Life with me wouldn't be boring, you should at least know that much," the man said airily as he set the naked hero down on his feet.
"Why the hell didn't I just go back to Gotham?" Robin muttered.
"So Alfred could be doing this to you right now?" Slade asked innocently, making Robin cringe and keep quiet. "There, there… I'll be gentle," the man added. Robin wasn't looking, but he was sure Slade was leering.
The spray of water was mild and exactly the right temperature. It felt heavenly on some patches of skin and hurt like hell on others. Robin found himself alternating between relaxing and jumping so much that it made him twitch.
"One moment. No use in getting completely soaked," The mercenary said behind him and Robin turned around just as the man was shrugging off his shirt. The teen turned back against the wall again as quickly as he could.
Slade helped him wash his hair and then he started soaping up his whole body, starting with neck, shoulders and back. Robin tried to reach as much of himself as possible.
"WHO-HA!" he yelped as the man's hand didn't only caress his ass but went between the firm globes as well.
"Just being thorough," the man claimed innocently as he continued down the teen's legs. "Need any help at the front?"
"NO!"
"Aw."
Robin honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The whole situation was so absurd and he just let it happen. Not that he had much choice, but still.
"Just hurry up," he groaned.
Once he was dry and back in bed, clad in a fresh oversized t-shirt and a pair of underwear which wouldn't even stay on in a light breeze, he felt better. Being clean really was a big plus. He was under the covers now as well. Slade had changed the sheets before he got in, but they still smelled of the man. Not unpleasantly, but it sent weird tingles up his back. It was a strange mix of fear and excitement, although it was quite common for him to feel something like that around the mercenary.
He was still feeling pain, though. He had caught a glance of himself in the bathroom mirror and gasped at the way large dark splotches had now formed on his skin, turning blue and purple. He was tired, but it was hard to get comfortable. He was starting to feel quite miserable.
When Slade came into the room, Robin decided to try one more time.
"May I have some painkillers now? Please?" he asked in a small voice.
"Yes, I have them right here. They will help you sleep," the man said and the hero almost sobbed in gratitude. Slade helped him sit up before giving him two white pills and a glass of water. Robin took them and lay back down with a sigh. It would take some time for the pills to work, of course, but in the mean while he would just lie here and watch Slade undress− wait, what?
"Wha-what are you doing?"
"Getting ready for bed."
"This bed?"
"Like I said, it's not like I have a guest bed and I need my rest too, so I'll have the energy to take care of your whiny ass tomorrow as well."
There was no malice in the man's voice, only teasing, so Robin just snorted. He blushed and looked away when the man opened the fly to his slacks. From the corner of his eye he could see the man getting naked and then taking his time taking care of his clothes.
"I'm going to take a shower," Slade informed him.
"Ok," Robin just said, not being too sure how to act.
The man returned a while later with a towel around him. Robin was happy to see that he was somewhat decent again, and was just about to say so when the towel was discarded on a chair, giving the teen an eyeful. And it was quite an eyeful. Robin quickly closed his eyes and pretended very hard not to have seen anything.
"You act like you never been in a locker room before," Slade told him.
"Not with my nemesis, no," the teen muttered, almost hoping the man wouldn't hear the comment. He did.
"I don't know what we'll be when this is over, Robin," he said, and the hero heard him pulling something on and dared to look again. The mercenary was climbing into the bed wearing a pair of boxers. He looked quite serious as he continued. "But we won't be enemies anymore."
Robin blinked and he felt his heart starting to beat quicker. Yet again he didn't know what to say.
"Goodnight," the man simply said and stretched out next to him.
"I… g-goodnight," the teen mumbled, hating himself for the stutter.
He expected to lie awake forever, but the medication and the sound of the man's calm, even breathing surprisingly soon lulled him into sleep. He slept several hours longer than he usually did, and he woke up feeling very stiff. Not down there, luckily, but his whole body seemed to have locked up as the muscles tried to repair themselves.
"...Fuck…" he muttered.
"Request or comment?" someone asked next to him, and in a flash Robin remembered everything about the day before. He turned over towards the voice as quickly as he could, not being able to hide a sense of alarm. Slade was dressed and was sitting on top of the bed next to him, reading.
"You scared me!" Robin blurted out.
"I know. I enjoy that," the man leered. "Breakfast?"
"Bathroom," the teen grunted. "Ow, fuck!" he repeated.
"I'm not sure Alfred would approve of your language. Do you think you can manage to-"
"Yes! I'll be fine!"
"Very well. I'll prepare something for you in the kitchen. Come out there or yell for help from the floor. Whatever comes first. Then we'll train."
"Train? Are you insane?"
"Quite the opposite actually, but yes. You need to stretch, very lightly, and do some breathing exercises. Slow deep breathing and light coughing every two hours to prevent lung infection and even collapse. We should have started yesterday, but… well."
Robin groaned. "Well, at least you're not expecting me to do cartwheels," he muttered.
"We'll see how it goes," the man smirked.
Robin shuffled into the bathroom like he was a hundred and ten years old and eventually made it to the kitchen where he ate like he was newborn and starving.
He then hobbled into a room that turned out to be a big gym with both weights, dummies –which looked a lot worse for wear, some even had bullet holes in them – and normal gym machines.
"Someone has an anger management issues," Robin grinned.
"I've seen sandbags you have used, so you shouldn't talk," Slade snorted.
"Did any of these holes appear after a fight with me?" the teen pushed, poking one of the bullet holes.
"Yes. This one." Slade indicated an impact right between the eyes on a doll.
Robin swallowed. Maybe enough pushing for now.
Slade put him through very gentle stretches and scolded him when Robin tried to do more than he should to show off. The teen did have an urge to, though, which he couldn't quite explain to himself. The villain was a bit distracting wearing sweatpants and a tight t-shirt. Bulging muscles everywhere. Wide chest. Trim waist. Dammit, even the abs could be seen through the shirt. Robin shook his head irritably. It was all Slade's fault, of course, saying those weird things to him! Bastard.
"And that's enough."
"Wh-what? I didn't say anyth-" Robin spluttered before realizing that it was just the exercise which was over.
"I'd like to have some telepathic powers right about now," the man smirked.
"I'd like a healing factor," Robin muttered.
"Yes, well… I must say I enjoy having one."
"You do?!" Robin blinked, realizing that he might know less about Slade than he first thought. "Then… what about your eye?"
"Never lie to your wife," the man shrugged.
"You're married too?!"
"Was," the man said, indicating his eye patch.
"Did… did you kill her?"
Slade gave him a disgusted look. "Of course not!"
"Really? 'Of course'? After she took out your eye? I would have thought you killed people for parking badly," the teen muttered.
"I'm not insane."
"Got any proof? Besides, married… so you're straight?" Robin couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment.
Slade smirked. "I fuck whomever I want."
"Reeeeally?" Robin drawled.
"Yes. You'll see."
"What's THAT supposed to mean?!"
The smirk turned into a leer. "You'll see. And now I think you should strip."
"I think I'm going back to Gotham," Robin growled.
"And I think you're forgetting that I can stop you from even making the call. Easily." Robin's eyes widened as the man spoke. Slade snorted and continued "It was a joke."
"I knew that!" the teen claimed.
"Of course. Now strip. A massage will do you good."
"You can't massage me, I'm a walking bruise!"
"Are you saying you can't handle the pain?"
Of course that was the exactly right thing to say to make sure Robin couldn't back down, and so the teen found himself on his back, dressed in only underwear, in something that looked more like a dentist chair than a massage table. It even tipped back.
"Are you comfortable?" Slade asked him.
"No."
"Any chest pain?"
"Only when I breathe."
"Well, then." The man, very carefully started to stretch and knead Robin's muscles. It still hurt, though. Robin hissed when fingers brushed deep blue bruises.
"Those scums really did a number on you," Slade commented dryly.
"Give me a couple of weeks and I'll take them down."
"I approve. Need any help?"
"As in them dead? No."
Slade made a sound like Robin was being unreasonable, but then answered. "As in alive and reasonably intact. Or do you want to drag your team into this?"
"No. I… you'd really help out?"
"Gladly. Then I assume there's no way stopping you to going back to being an idiot?"
"Excuse me?!" Robin bristled.
"You're only human. You won't get old if you keep doing what you're doing."
"Batman is 'only' human too, you know!"
"Yes, and he's been extremely lucky. It won't last forever."
"Nothing does," Robin snorted. "Besides, don't you want me to work for you? What's so different about that?"
Slade sighed deeply like he was dealing with a Trump-supporter. "I have missions. I plan them. You throw yourself in front of random alien monsters and criminals without even the element of surprise. You're not in charge, Robin. That's the difference."
"No, the difference is that I save people," the teen growled.
"You endanger yourself!"
"Well, you're not my dad!"
That statement made Slade pause and then chuckle. "No. Luckily I'm not. I still worry about you, though."
Robin gaped. Hearing that your arch enemy was worried about you was… absurd. Ridiculous. Insane. And a little bit touching.
"Thanks," he reluctantly muttered. "I can take care of myself."
"Yes, obviously," the man replied, gesturing to his body.
Robin grunted something unintelligible and then added "Are we done?"
"Oh, far from it. But the massage is."
"Good," Robin muttered and carefully got up from the chair. He felt like he could move just a little bit better now, but he refused to admit it. He merely nodded to Slade as he limped by the man, his clothes under his arm, heading towards the bathroom. After getting dressed again, which took forever, Robin didn't quite know what to do. Slade had called the shots so far. As he went in search of the man he had to pull up the damn oversized trousers several times and by the time he found him Robin knew what the next thing on the agenda should be.
"I need clothes," he told Slade, who he had finally found in the kitchen.
"Aw, but you look so cute in mine," the man smirked at him.
"Could you please sound a bit more like the Slade I know and loathe, because this is freaking me out," the teen groaned.
"Seems I have to teach you some manners," the man growled, making Robin grin.
"That's better. Now, how about my clothes?"
"Would you like me to take you to the tower or go myself?" Slade asked after seemingly rolling his eye.
"Neither." Robin still didn't want the man inside. He blushed brightly when what he just had thought suddenly turned into an innuendo in his head. Stupid brain! Stupid Slade for starting the whole thing! "I have a credit card in my belt. Unless that was destroyed I can go buy what I need."
"You'll do no such thing, I don't want you out among people in your condition. I'll go."
"You don't even know my size!"
The man looked him up and down, slowly and meticulously, while wearing a small grin. "Oh, I think I can manage. Your things are in the bedroom, go get me the card."
"I'm the injured one here…" Robin muttered as he limped away again. Once he returned with the card he had another thing on his mind. "So, what am I supposed to do when you're away?"
"Have a snack," Slade said and gestured towards the table where an assortment of fruits was laid out. "And, I suspect, snoop around. Try not to get too personal when you do."
"I wasn't-"
"Yes you were."
"Well… yeah, but… you know…" Robin shrugged, feeling just slightly guilty.
"I do. I'll be back in an hour or two. There is more food in the fridge if you want it."
"Thanks," the teen nodded and gingerly sat down by the kitchen table. "Fuck…" he mumbled as his ribs seemed to pinch his chest.
"Later," Slade said.
"What?!"
"Isn't that what you kids say instead of 'goodbye'?" the man asked suspiciously innocently.
"Goodbye!" Robin growled. Slade, chuckling, walked out the door.
Robin did snoop, but the fact that Slade had predicted he would took most of the fun out of it. The base seemed to have one room for everything; a computer and surveillance room, the gym where he had already been, a workshop, the room he had woken up in which seemed to be a small, rather bare looking medical unit. Maybe the man rarely needed it. Most of the place was neat, with the exception of the workshop. Robin could still see some kind of order in there, but it would probably only make complete sense to Slade. His own workshop was very much in the same condition.
"Your clothes are in the bedroom," Slade told him when he returned. "You can go change if you want."
"Can't wait," the teen answered, holding on to his trousers as he shuffled away.
Fifteen minutes later he still hadn't come out, and Slade knocked on the door.
"Was there something wrong with the clothes?" the man asked. No answer. "Robin?" Slade opened the door and swore. Robin was passed out, half on the bed and half on the floor, and his breathing sounded strained.
"Superman?" the teen asked as he saw the man standing over him, a worried frown on his face."Wha- what happened?" he mumbled.
"We're not sure. Everything seems in order now. Are you in any pain?"
"Everything hurts," Robin mumbled.
"As bad as before? Or worse?"
"As before."
"Do you remember what happened before you passed out?" This time it was Slade asking.
Robin thought back and then blushed.
"What did you do?" Slade asked dryly.
"Well… I was getting dressed, but… it was difficult. It was easier to get into the oversized clothes, but I… tried."
"You mean you didn't ask for help though you needed it." Slade sighed. "You talk to him. You are friends with the bat, so I expect that you are better at dealing with idiotic humans," the man growled and stomped away.
Robin closed his mouth with a click and looked up at Clark, rolling his eyes. The alien hero wasn't that impressed, though.
"You should really ask for help when you need it."
"From him?!"
"He's willing to help. More than that, he seems worried about you," Superman said softly.
"He's not," the teen snorted, but he was feeling a bit uncertain now.
"I guarantee you he is. When he called he was using a lot of curse words. People like him usually do when they are anxious."
"He's a pervert," Robin muttered.
Superman straightened up immediately. "Did he- Did he… touch you?"
Robin balked, not realizing Clark would take his words so seriously. "No, no! He's… it's nothing, he's… it was just jokes!" he hurriedly explained.
"You think he's interested in you, then?" Clark asked. Robin's deep blush was apparently answer enough, because the man chuckled a bit before turning serious once more. "I don't think it is such a good idea for you to get involved with him. I know you're old enough to make your own decisions but-"
"I-I… he's a man!" Robin spluttered. "Why would I-?"
Superman looked him in the eyes and then sighed. "I'm saddened that you feel ashamed, Robin. There's nothing wrong with being gay or bi-"
"Why would you think I'm-"
"Because I know you have a crush on me."
The teen paled. "I… I…" his shoulders sagged. "How…?"
"I'm an investigating reporter who can hear people's heartbeats. Although to be honest it was Bruce who first pointed it out to me."
"Bruce knows too?!"
"Since before you left Gotham."
"I didn't even know back then!"
"He's not called the world's greatest detective for nothing," Clark grinned.
"I guess… Yeah. Sorry for… feeling that way."
"For having a crush on me? For someone as brilliant and brave as you to like me that way, that's an honor. And I do like you a lot, Robin, but as you know… not romantically."
"I know," the teen nodded. "Don't worry."
"I hope now you can be a bit more open with people who care about you, though," the older hero said sternly. "And with yourself too… it sounds like you haven't even accepted it yourself, am I right?"
"I have. Kinda. It's just that… well… it's complicated. It's not like have anyone to date!"
"I understand. It must be more difficult to… explore."
"Yeah, Robin blushed a bit again. It was uncomfortable to talk about this with Superman, but on the other hand it almost felt like a relief too.
"I think you should risk it… but be careful with Slade. I do trust him to help you, but he's still…"
"I know. I know who he is," Robin told the man.
"Maybe you don't know everything, but you know enough, I think. Like I said, I think his… affection for you is real, but… well, Bruce would… probably not take it well."
"Hell, no," Robin gasped and then they both laughed. Clark placed a hand on his shoulder. "All better?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
"I checked your ribs, and they aren't much worse. Slade claims it's not a good idea for you to stay in bed, but take it easy, will you?"
"Yeah."
"And ask for help when you need it?"
"…"
"Robin."
"…Yeah. Okay."
"Good. Call me if you need me, and if he… well, if it gets too much, I'll happily fly you back to Gotham."
"I can handle it," Robin claimed bravely.
"And maybe apologize to Slade for being reckless?"
"That I can not handle!" the teen objected.
"You might want to try at least," Superman grinned and said goodbye to the younger hero.
Slade came into the room about fifteen minutes after Clark left. The man was still looking cranky.
"Are you done trying to kill yourself now?" he asked pointedly.
Robin stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Yes. Sorry, Slade," he added, having decided that he might, just might, been a bit… stupid.
"What was that?"
"I'm sorry. I should have asked for help. I was stubborn," Robin said, and barely clenched his teeth doing it.
"The alien seemed to have done something right for once," the mercenary said almost to himself. "From now on; ask for help. And for the sake of your ribs; no bending over."
"I thought you liked me bending over," Robin grinned in an insane burst of bravery.
Slade blinked and just looked at him until that bravery vanished and a blush took over. Only then did the man seemed satisfied, and smirked. "If I have to carry you to bed again it should be for more fun reasons than thinking you just punctured a lung or two."
Days turned into weeks. Clark's well meaning words of warning had only managed turning Robin's mind down a pretty dangerous road, the complete opposite than the man had wanted. The teen had started joking –or flirting- back more than blushing, but he still didn't know how to take the next step or if he even wanted to. Where could it possibly lead? How far did he want it to go? It was exciting and terrifying all at once.
They didn't just stay inside the base, far from it. They took walks and later short runs, they went shopping and they went out to eat almost every day, either lunch, dinner or both. They talked, discussed and argued. They even watched a few movies together, and Robin very much enjoyed being a civilian, even though he wished it was by choice and not necessity.
"You look a lot better now," Slade told him one morning.
"Huh?" Robin had been busy missing the man's torso, as the mercenary had just buttoned up his shirt.
"The bruises are gone, the gashes have healed. We can start some more intense exercises today, I think. You might even be clear to return to the tower."
"It's still another week or so until my team returns," Robin pointed out quickly, feeling strangely hurt. "Or are you just tired of me?"
"Guests are like fish, they start to smell after a few days," Slade grinned, but apparently saw something in the teen's eyes which made him change his tone. "Not that I haven't enjoyed smelling you."
"Well, I know when I'm not welcome… or apparently I didn't," Robin growled and got out of bed. He gasped as his wrist was grabbed and he was spun around like a ballerina. Once his world came to a stop he was staring up into the man's eye.
"You know I was joking," Slade told him.
"Do I now? I don't know what you mean half the time," Robin snorted, trying –and failing− to pull himself free.
"You're staying."
"Maybe I don't want-" the hero stopped talking as the man's other hand, the one that wasn't still holding his wrist and pulling him close, cupped the side of his face. The teen swallowed, his pulse quickening. The man's callused hand moved until his fingers curled slightly around the back of Robin's head. The teen closed his eyes as Slade leaned in. The first brush of the man's lips was electrical. Robin still didn't know if it was a good idea, but at least there was no longer a question about whether he wanted this or not. He wanted this more than he ever wanted anything else. Slade kissed him again, longer and deeper this time, but then pulled back, letting the teen have a breather and making his own decisions. Robin opened his eyes, met Slade's questioning gaze, took a deep breath and yanked the man towards him. He stood on tip toes as they kissed, his arms around the man's neck. Soon Slade's hands were cupping his ass, and the teen moaned into the kiss as he was lifted up. He wound his legs around the man's waist as Slade carried him fully back into the room and, carefully, maneuvered them onto the bed without even breaking the kiss.
Robin loved feeling the man on top of him and kissed back eagerly, his hands exploring the mercenary's body. This kiss ended just as the teen was getting a bit dizzy.
"This doesn't have to go any further," Slade told him and Robin understood that the man wanted to reassure him that he had the means to stop before things went too far. Robin was never one to do things by half, though.
He grinned up at the man. "Don't worry, Slade. I'll be gentle."
The man half chuckled, half snorted and then kissed him again. He caught the hem of the teen's t-shirt and Robin lifted his arms to help the man pull it off. Then, Robin figured, it was Slade's turn. He grabbed the man's shirt and tore it, popping the buttons off.
"Was that really necessary?" the man asked dryly.
"Yes," the hero insisted.
"If you say so," the man concurred with a smirked and sat up a little to shrug his rather ruined shirt off.
"Definitely worth it," Robin grinned at the sight.
"Still going to punish you," the man growled and attacked, kissing him briefly again on the lips before moving down the side of his neck, half kissing, half biting.
"Not my nipples! Not my nipp- GAWD!" Robin cried out as the man's revenge moved on to the sensitive pink buds. "Fuck, I hate y-OOH!"
"Never heard you moan from hate before." The man chuckled as he continued his torture, leaving Robin's nipples red and puffy.
"Why don't you take that mouth of yours lower?" Robin asked, trying to sound cocky, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed him a bit.
"Don't mind if I do," Slade smirked at him and scooted down, hiking his fingers under the waistband of the sweatpants the teen was wearing. Robin lifted his hips. They had seen each other naked already, after all, and he wasn't particularly embarrassed about his body. This was a somewhat different situation, but he was eager to get into it. The sweatpants landed on the floor and a second later the hero, for the first time in his life, felt a hot, wet tongue licking the tip of his cock. His back arched and-
"OW! FUCK!"
Slade sat back immediately. "What? I didn't bite you," he said.
Robin groaned in pain. "My back… Dammit!"
"How bad is it?" Slade had moved off him instantly and was now helping him lie down.
"Not too bad, I think it was just a stab," Robin mumbled, pulling the covers over his groin. "Ow!" he added as he moved.
"It's possible that you hurt your back and not feeling the effect until now," Slade thought out aloud. "Also, the muscles supporting your back have been weakened by now."
"Yeah… sorry," the hero said quietly.
"For what?" Slade looked surprised.
"Um… we were about to… um…?" Robin made a vague gesture between the two of them.
"Oh, that," Slade chuckled. "Never mind that."
"Great. Sounds like it was really important to you," Robin growled.
"Are you going to willfully misunderstand me again? Because make up sex gets frustrating in the long run." When he only got a glare in return Slade sighed. "I meant that you feeling well is much more important to me, of course."
"Yeah, yeah," Robin mumbled, still embarrassed about his back. "So… um… what now?"
"Can you move at all?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Then you should, as long as you don't tense you up. How about a hot shower?"
"Sounds good."
"I thought so too, especially as I get to see you naked for longer," the man grinned.
"I could take it by myself, you know?" Robin snorted haughtily, but didn't really mean it.
"Out of the question. Especially as you'll miss out on the massage," the man told him.
"Oh, there's a free massage?" Robin grinned.
"Never said 'free'," Slade told him as he helped him up and led him into the shower.
Robin walked gingerly but felt no more pain. Nor was he bent over in the classical 'thrown my back out' position, but he was still careful. A hero with a bad back…? That was dangerous!
He had his back to Slade when the man took off the rest of his clothes. It just didn't feel right to ogle him at the moment, although the teen desperately wanted to. He'd gotten glimpses before, true, but now he felt like he had the right to check out what was on offer, just… not now.
The hot water cascading down his back a moment later felt heavenly. His muscles had knotted up a bit from the pain, and the expectation of pain. He moaned and then took a shuddering breath as Slade's hands ran down his arms.
"Can you lift these?" the man asked and slowly guided them up and forwards, placing Robin's hands against the tiles far above his head. "Any pain?"
"No," the hero said and started lowering his hands again. Immediately Slade's grip on his wrists returned.
"Keep them right there," the man purred in his ear.
Robin's heart thumped harder at the order and he felt a thrill of excitement shooting up his spine as he obeyed. Slade's hands slowly made their way down his arms, caressing each muscle. He could feel the man coming up closer behind him, flush up against his back, pressing their naked bodies together. Robin opened his mouth and groaned, arching carefully into that heat.
"You're so damn beautiful like this," Slade growled and kissed the side of his neck, again leaving marks in his wake.
Robin hummed, unable to do much else. The man's hands began kneading his back, starting with his shoulder blades, and moving slowly down. Soft at first, then the massage went deeper.
"Alright?" the man asked when he came to a tight spot.
"Mmm…" Robin moaned.
One of the man's hands moved lower, kneading his ass, while the other encircled him and started playing with his nipples.
"No pain?"
"No... no pain…" Robin claimed. "Oh!" the man had let his fingers slip into his crack and was pressing against his opening. "Oh, god…"
"Not even now?" Slade chuckled.
"Feels… good… more!" Robin demanded, pushing himself backwards.
"Not quite yet," the man said. "You're not ready."
"What if I say I am?" Robin snapped.
"What if I say there's no lube in here?"
"Oh. Yeah. Kay." Robin knew a good argument when he heard one.
The man rubbed him dry with a towel, not allowing the young hero to do anything himself. Slade said he didn't want him to hurt his back again, but Robin called him out on just wanting to grope him.
They got down on the bed together, carefully, although that care quickly got pushed to the side by eagerness and lust.
Robin's legs was around the man again as their groins rutted together, creating an amazing friction while they kissed almost aggressively. The teen gasped for air.
"Where's that lube?" he asked.
"Right here." The man reached for something in the night stand and the young hero decided not to question if Slade usually kept lube there or if he had anticipated that this would happen. Both scenarios would mess with his high.
He was nervous and clenched a bit as the man's first finger slipped inside him, but the feeling sent electric jolts through his body, until he heard-
"Fuck! My communicator!" Robin groaned and reached out for the beeping thing.
"Don't answer," Slade told him.
"It's Batman. Do you know how quickly we'll have Superman here if I don't?" Robin groaned, and, making sure only his face was showing, answered the call.
"You look hot," was the first thing his mentor said, which made Slade stifle a chuckle. It took Robin a moment to understand that the hero simply meant hot as in warm.
"I am," he answered, eliciting another sound from Slade. "Just been training. About to hit the shower."
"What are those marks on your neck? Allergic to something?"
Robin quickly adjusted the camera angle so the hickeys wouldn't be in frame as much.
"Just got bitten by some bugs last night and have been scratching," he hurriedly explained. "No –ah!– big deal."
"You sound out of breath, are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes! Everything's fine! Like I said, I've just come from the gym."
"You're not overdoing it?"
"No I- Slade makes sure I… I only get what I can handle," Robin said, his head swimming lightly. "I'll call tomorrow, okay?"
"Alright. See you then," the Dark Knight nodded and hung up.
"For future reference," Robin panted, "when I'm talking to my guardian on the com, could you not have your fingers up my ass?"
"Just didn't want to waste any time, and three are no more than you can handle, just like you said," the man chuckled and then kissed his hip in some kind of apology the teen assumed. The call had been a nice distraction he had to admit, so he wasn't really angry, in fact he was holding back a laugh. That soon turned into a moan, however, when the man went back to business fully and curled his fingers.
Robin realized that he wasn't the most active of partners, but promised himself to make that up to the man next time. Right now-
"I need you," he gasped and tried to pull the man further on top of himself.
Slade got the hint.
Pressure. Burning. Bliss. The sense of being filled almost made him come on the spot and his body was practically humming.
"Wait," he gasped, his legs again tightly around the man and tightening further as Slade seemed to want to withdraw a little.
"Does it hurt?" the man asked.
"No… I… oh… god…" Robin, who was just enjoying the hell out of the moment, moaned.
Slade seemed to understand and chuckled, just rearranging himself enough to kiss the side of the teen's neck again. "Just wait until I start to fuck you," he growled, making the boy arch underneath him.
Robin didn't really think that it could possibly feel any better that it already did, but he eventually allowed the man to try. He was wrong. Unfortunately the session was quite short, because there was no way in hell the teen could control himself for long, no matter how hard he tried. Slade, who had better control, quickly got the teen ready for another round, though, and this time they could finish together.
"Sex," Robin panted a few moments later, "is amazing." They were on their backs, side by side, catching their breaths.
"With the right partner," the mercenary half gloated and half, Robin hoped, flattered.
"Not for the right reasons?" the teen grinned.
"Screw the reasons," the man snorted and then rolled on top of him again, kissing him deeply. "'Want' is the only reason that should count."
"Agreed," Robin smiled as he was allowed his lips back. "No regrets. No strings attached, huh?"
"Oh, there's plenty of strings attached. Practically chains. I just haven't told you about them yet," the man grinned down at him.
"So I could get lucky with you more than once, then?" the teen chuckled, actually happy that the man didn't seem to want to wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am him.
Slade's grin widened. "Oh, yes."
"Glad to hear it."
"Even if your team finds out? Batman?"
Robin paled a bit. "I.. wouldn't mind keeping that part of our relationship from them for a while…"
"How long?"
"Until Bruce dies of old age?"
"Hmmm…"
"Well, it's YOUR life I'm worried about, you know!" Robin defended his position. "He'll castrate you with a dull batarang."
"He probably will, yes."
"I can't keep you a complete secret from my team, though," Robin sighed like he wished it was possible, running a hand through the man's hair. "You saved my life… they might accept you for that…. and that you are… umm… my personal trainer or something?"
"Physiotherapist and fuck buddy. I'll get cards printed," the man said dryly.
"Only one card, I hope?!" Robin exclaimed playfully. "Or how would you like to play this? I'm very willing to follow your lead for once…"
"Lovely," the man smirked.
"Don't make me regret it," the teen groaned. "Please?"
"So…" Robin finished his speech to his team. "Slade has agreed to keep working with me, to make sure I get fully recovered. What do you guys say?"
Beast Boy wrinkled his nose, sniffing the air. "When are you coming to the part where you two fuck?" he asked.
"Exactly," Raven droned, clearly feeling the energy between them.
"Couldn't be more obvious, really," Cyborg let them know.
"It is romantic, is it not?" Starfire grinned.
Robin coughed and fiddled with his communicator. A second later Slade's buzzed and the man took a look at it.
"Why are you-" he started.
"You're my I.C.E!" Robin exclaimed and gestured to his team, who started laughing. "Save me!"
The End
A/N:
Don't know what I.C.E is? It's probably not international even though we use it in Sweden too. It stands for "In Case of Emergency" and the idea is that you, on your phone, should have a contact called I.C.E which helps paramedics, firefighters, and police officers, as well as hospital personnel, to contact the next of kin. The idea was British from the start, according to Wikipedia, and like I said, I don't know how wide spread it is, but yeah… it's a good idea, anyway! ;) Let me know if you knew about it!