Delightful Drabbles

by Wynja

SladeRobin drabblecollection, and some Red X now! Both slash and nonslash stories will be listed... mostly slash, though... severe fluffwarnings might be issued.

240. You Might As Well Give Up Now

A/N: Sladin. Oneshot. Started forever ago but only now finished. Poorly edited, I'm afraid, I didn't quite have the energy to read through it twice, so the extra mistakes are free…

You Might As Well Give Up Now

"You might as well give up now, Turd Boy!" Gizmo yelled triumphantly. Robin was prone to agree. He wouldn't, though, of course. Not a chance.

"No friends to help you," Mumbo Jumbo cheered. "Where are your little friends, Titan?"

"Oh, they are… around," Robin answered through gritted teeth.

"Not around here, though," Dr Light smirked.

And they weren't. That wasn't the only thing wrong in the city right now. The second thing was the cold and the snow. If it was because of climate change or just a freak change of weather, no one knew, but the whole of the west coast, even in the south, had been blindsided by the biggest snow storm on record. Hard winds had uprooted large parts of forests, wrecked havoc on power lines and ice had frozen and broken water pipes. Many in Jump City had evacuated, pandemic be damned, because the power and water kept getting cut off. It was a national emergency, and these assholes didn't make it better.

"Gonna get what's coming to ya, brat!" Johnny Rancid hollered, cheered on by his crew.

Robin was prone to agree on that too. It seems all the villains in Jump had discovered that he was alone and decided to go on a joint rampage. Robin, of course, was going to try to stop them. But there was a lot of them.

The police were there, and they had tried. Some of them were on the ground now, and Robin was pretty sure at least one of them was dead. He was also pretty sure he'd be joining him soon. Even the .E weren't playing around; they were out for blood.

Robin searched among the faces of the mob facing him. He was looking for someone in particular. If he was going to die in battle, he had pictured doing so facing him. It wouldn't be shameful to die fighting him. In fact, it would almost be an honor. But he wasn't there. Neither was Red X, but, then again, if that guy became a killer, Robin would just give up on the spot. He was a thief, and a damn good one, but he would never cross that line.

"Get out of here, Robin, we'll cover you!" a cop called out. Robin sent her a small smile of gratitude, but shook his head.

"No, ma'am. This is my city. And it needs cleaning up. You just be ready to round the trash up, will you?"

"Yes, sir," she said grimly.

If it hadn't been for the police, Robin knew he wouldn't have lasted five minutes. He worked methodically, and he fought hard, And dirty. He didn't want to think about what Mammoth's junk had felt like against his fist as he smashed into the tender parts, but hey. Dirty or die. He had had an idea what he was going to face when he headed out, so he had stocked his belt well. And, as he didn't have the other Titans to consider, he had chosen some nastier things; smoke bombs that really hurt the eyes, gas bombs that knocked you out in seconds, laced bird-a-rangs that would, and did, take out Rancid in a heartbeat.

Whenever someone fell, a cop was there to cuff them, making sure they didn't rejoin the battle. In the end, impossibly, Robin remained standing. Barely. The wind had shifted and brought remains of the tear gas, something the cops had used as well, back to him. A small rip in his mask let the gas affect his eyes. Dust and smoke also made it hard to see, and Robin decided to slink away, while he was still standing. He hobbled into an alley. He was bleeding. One of his arms was hanging uselessly, and he could barely put any weight on one of his legs. He was freezing too. Though he had tried to adapt it, his uniform wasn't made for these kinds of temperatures, and the wind alone felt like it was cutting him to shreds. He leaned against a wall for a moment, trying to gather the strength he needed to get home. Get anywhere. Out of here.

"Hello, Robin."

The teen's head jerked up and he spun around, as quickly as he could. Slade. Staff out.

"… Late… to the party… Slade," Robin grunted out. It was harder to speak than he thought. Harder to move. He would have to, though. He would have to fight again. He fought back a desperate sound. He couldn't! He couldn't. So be it, then. He had done his best. And he wouldn't go down easy. His only usable hand reached for his staff and extended it.

The man in front of him snorted.

"Put that down, boy, you're done for. You might as well give up now."

"Not yet."

"I'd say about twenty minutes ago. But you did good. You should be proud."

"Attack or leave, Slade, I don't… have all day."

"You certainly don't. Where are your little friends?"

"None of your business."

"True. You're the only one that matters anyway." The man attacked and Robin clumsily tried to get out of the way. A blow grazed his injured shoulder and he was unable to stop a scream of pain escaping him. His vision vent dark, and the next thing he knew, he was on his knees.

He had to fight to even raise his head. Slade was looming over him.

"You fought enough. For today," the man told him, in his cool, calm voice. Robin couldn't even raise his staff to block the strike coming. He tumbled backwards, hitting his head as he landed on the ground. He felt a tug at his belt. His communicator.

"…no…" he mumbled, raising a hand in vain to try to stop the man. He heard the beep from the com.

"Teen Titans, this is Slade," the man said. Someone spoke back, but Robin was blacking out. He heard the man's next words before his world turned black.

"I have your leader."

When Robin woke up next there was a bright light. It made sense, he figured, there was supposed to be, right? But he didn't think he was supposed to be in this much pain and discomfort. Unless he had ended up at the other place, but then it shouldn't have been this cold. Not that he believed in either.

He tried to move, but he seemed to be stuck, somehow, lying flat on his back. He grunted softly from the pain.

"You're awake? We need to take care of that," Slade's voice said, waking the teen up a little bit more out of pure instinct to defend himself. He watched the man pick up a syringe and pull some sort of liquid from a bottle into it.

"No…" the teen objected weakly and manage to lift his hand enough to catch the man's wrist, fighting to keep the needle away from him. He heard a low chuckle, almost an "aww" sound, and his hand was easily pulled away. Then he felt the pinch when the needle entered his arm and the burn as it was emptied. Then, very suddenly, his world went dark again. First Robin thought he had passed out, but then he heard Slade's voice again.

"This is ridiculous…" the man muttered and walked away. Robin wanted to ask what was going on, but fell asleep before managing to even open his mouth.

When he woke up next, he was warmer, and more comfortable in some ways. He was lying on something that was moving, however, practically bouncing along at times. He opened his eyes. He was in the backseat of a car.

"What…?" he mumbled.

"If you're a nuisance I'm pulling over and putting you to sleep again. Stay where you are and we won't have to do that," he heard Slade say from the front seat.

Moving wasn't very high on the list of things Robin wanted to do at the moment, so he complied. He just winced as he tried to look around. His formally useless arm felt better, but it was strapped to his chest now. He was under a scratchy but thick blanket, and pulled it a bit higher for warmth. He then looked towards the front seat and froze. He couldn't see well from this angle, but he saw white hair and part of a face with a black eyepatch.

"S-Slade?"

"Yes?" the unknown person in front responded, confirming what the teen already knew. Slade. Without his mask.

"Wh-where…?"

"Somewhere a bit more… stable, than Jump is right now. What did you do to that place? I'm gone for a few weeks and come back to a city in chaos and most of the Titans missing."

"Storm…" Robin muttered, in defense.

"Yes, I assume you can't be blamed for the weather. One of my bases has been flooded, another one doesn't have a generator for when the electricity goes out. So, we're relocating. Lie back and enjoy the ride, boy. And don't be any trouble."

Robin didn't like the fact that he was being taken out of Jump. Not at all. But there was nothing he could do about it, if he wanted to stay conscious, and he did. He managed for about half an hour, but then drifted back to sleep again.

He woke up when he was being lifted out of the car.

"Ow…" he groaned, his injuries making his entire body sore.

The man was carrying him in his arms and Robin just looked up at that unfamiliar rugged face, not quite knowing what to think or feel. It was clear Slade didn't want him dead, at least, or he wouldn't have gone to all this trouble. So maybe, for now, he was safe? … ish? Robin knew he had to keep his wits about him now, and not do anything rash. It was rather difficult for him, but he tried to remain calm and passive as he was carried into a house that he hadn't gotten a good look at, as he had been staring at the man the whole time.

Slade must have left him in the car while preparing, because the door was open, and a fire had just been lit in the fire place. He was placed, surprisingly gently for an enemy, on a lumpy sofa in front of the fire. Robin shivered and pulled on the blanket he was still covered with. He didn't seem to be wearing a lot of clothes under it, he now realized.

"It will get warm soon. Stay," the man told him and then stalked off, somewhere.

To say Robin felt bewildered was an understatement. His head was spinning, and he also had a headache on top of that, so he wasn't exactly feeling great. He needed to find out what was going on and, of course, escape, but right now he just wanted to sleep some more. He dozed, listening to the ever-growing fire, hearing Slade move around the room, and then he started to smell a faint aroma of food. His stomach growled. He had had a proper breakfast that morning, but the fight had happened around lunch and he had no idea what time it was now. He didn't even know if it was the same day.

"Hungry?"

He opened his eyes and looked up at his enemy, who was standing there offering him a steaming mug of something. Robin nodded, awkwardly, almost shyly. It was…strange. This whole thing was… strange.

"Can you manage to sit up?"

Robin nodded again and, with a few hisses of pain, did so. The blanket fell down and he pulled it up again, immediately, like it was a shield.

"I'll get you something to wear. Here," the man said, handing him the mug.

Another nod, of thanks this time.

The mug contained soup. Very obviously canned soup, the pieces of potatoes and carrots too precisely cubed to be anything else. Besides, there hadn't been time for Slade to cook. It was good though, perhaps mainly because of his hunger. He hesitated after his first sip, wondering if the man might have laced it with something, a sedative perhaps? Then he snorted. Slade obviously didn't have a problem jamming a needle into his arm if he wanted him asleep, so why would he bother with putting something in his food?

"Here."

It was a grey sweatshirt, and Robin put his mug down on the table to take it from the man's outstretched hand.

"Need any help?" the mercenary asked.

The teen shook his head, and, after taking his arm out of the sling, slipped it on. He didn't bother putting the sling back, he had dislocated his shoulder before, and felt it was just in the way. He hissed from some lingering other pain and noticed several bandages on his upper body and arms.

"Had to stitch you up in a few places. Your arm was only dislocated, though," Slade supplied as an explanation. "Now… you're dressed, you're fed… so let's get down to business," the man said.

Robin swallowed. This was it, then. Now he'd hear what fate the man had intended for him. Death? Torture him for information? Hostage? He grabbed his mug again. He could, perhaps, throw the contents in the man's face, it was still hot enough to maybe slightly sting. He felt at a worse disadvantage right now than when facing the mob earlier that day. And that was saying something.

He was slightly surprised when the man sat down in a sturdy armchair opposite the couch Robin was on. He had expected him to remain towering over him, after all. Instead, the man sat there, leaning back, watching him with a strange air of annoyance, like he was an uninvited guest that refused to take the hint to leave.

"Where are the Titans?" Slade asked.

"In… in the Tower-" Robin started but the man leaned forwards, anger flashing in that cold eye.

"Don't lie to me! I'm not a patient man at the moment, and before the communication was broken off, the Raven-girl indicated they couldn't pick you up. Why?"

"You… they… pick me up?" Robin asked.

"From the alley."

"You… wanted them to? As… a trap?" Robin asked.

The man snorted. "I wanted them to take you off my hands."

Robin couldn't help it; he felt slightly insulted.

"You… did? Why didn't you just go then? You knocked me out!"

"Your clumsy fall knocked you out. Not that I wasn't about to, but let's be fair, you were about to collapse anyway."

"No, I wasn't, I was on my way home!"

"You were in an alley leading away from where you parked your bike. Heading straight into what counts as the bad neighborhoods of Jump. Anyone could have found you."

Robin narrowed his eyes but kept his mouth shut. Slade might be right. He had had no idea where he was.

"So. Where are the Titans?"

"In orbit."

"Why?"

"Because of Danish minks and Neanderthals."

Slade sighed and quickly ran a hand down his face, like he was trying to find some strength.

"Listen, kid, it's been a long… couple of weeks. I'm not in the best of moods. Don't push it."

The young hero, who had already come to the conclusion that it had been stupid trying to be vague, quickly decided to lay the cards on the table.

"Ok… did you hear about the virus mutating in minks in Denmark, and spreading it back to humans? Something like that could, potentially, start the Corona pandemic all over again. Also, people with the Neanderthal gene seems to suffer worse from the virus… so the Justice League called a meeting a week ago," he explained. "They wanted to discuss what might happen with the virus if spread through a meta-human. In the end, they decided that they couldn't risk it, so, worldwide, people are isolating themselves. Even some villains are. My team are up in orbit, in the JL headquarters."

"All of them?"

"Well, Starfire is an alien, Raven is part demon, Beast Boy's DNA is a bit of a nightmare, and Cy, well, he's human, but he's a huge risk group. The parts of him that are still human can't get sick with this thing, or he might very well die."

"Are you trying to tell me that they left you alone, to defend Jump?" Slade almost sounded angry on his behalf. Well, it sounded like it, but it was a ridiculous notion.

"No," Robin muttered, looking away.

"Spit it out."

"I don't have to explain myself to you!" the teen spat.

"No," the man admitted. "But you are."

Robin glared at the man.

"Alright," Slade said and leaned forwards in his chair like he was about to get up. "What has been mended can be undone. Your arm can be dislocated again, the stiches ripped open, and then I'll throw you out there in the snow to die from… what? Stubbornness? Pride?"

"Why do you care!?" Robin snarled, but shrank back as the man moved a bit more forwards. The teen cradled his injured arm, remembering the pain in his shoulder from when it was dislocated the first time around. He really, really didn't want to give in to the man's threat, but-

"I… I was supposed to stay put. In the Tower. No missions."

Slade leaned back in his chair with a short, cynical laugh. "And they believed you would? Do they know you at all?"

"Well, I-" Robin started, but Slade raised a hand which was enough for him to stop.

"I'm not condoning you being an absolute idiot," Slade told him sternly. "Seriously, Robin, what did you think would happen?"

"I needed to-"

"No! No, you didn't. No one expected you to, it was not your responsibility to face off with all of them," Slade barked, making Robin swallow nervously. And he still didn't understand why the man was even angry!

"Again, why do you care?" he muttered.

"I don't know, maybe I should have just left you," the man grunted and leaned back in his chair again. He was then quiet, just studying the teen for a while, making Robin very uncomfortable. The teen glanced at the door but, apart from the sweatshirt Slade had given him, all he had on was his underwear.

"If I take you back to Jump," Slade started, raising Robin's hopes, "you'd be out patrolling again within days." Robin opened his mouth, but another gesture shut him up. "I should probably just call Wayne and have him take you back to Gotham."

"I'm not going ba-" the teen started, and then the realization of what the man had just said hit him and he froze. "Who- Who's Wayne?" he said lamely.

Slade laughed, actually sounding amused for once. "You might have perfected your roundhouse kick, kid, but your acting needs work."

"I don't know what you're talking abo-"

"Grayson." The man's voice had a clear warning in it, to drop the charade right now, and the teen already knew it was pointless to keep it up. He had also just discovered something his throbbing head hadn't managed to figure out before now; his mask was missing. Not that he thought Slade would have figured out who he was from his face, not unless the villain had an unhealthy obsession with teenage wards of billionaires on the other side of the country. Which was just weird and wrong.

"How long have you known?" the young hero asked.

"Since the very beginning," Slade told him.

"Why… didn't you try to blackmail me, then? Are you doing that now?" Robin asked, wondering where all this would lead to.

"Considering I was working for Wayne at the time, there wasn't much point in that," Slade shrugged.

"What?!" Robin gaped. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Bruce sent me to… test you."

"You're lying!"

"It's easy enough for you to confirm later. He was curious how you were managing as a leader. He wanted a report."

"So… all this time, you've been… spying on me?!"

"Oh, no, the assignment was only for our first encounters. After that, it was… more of a personal interest. I gave you a good report, though, you should be happy to know. Maybe the only reason the teen Titans still exists. The JL didn't like it, having kids running around freely like that… I could show them that you could hold your own."

"…Thanks…" Robin muttered sarcastically.

"You're welcome," the man answered, with no hint of sarcasm whatsoever in his voice. "The question is what to do with you. How do you feel, by the way?"

"Like I was hit by a bus."

"It was a building. You were slammed into one pretty hard. Any nausea? Vision problems?"

"No. Just a headache."

"Alright." Slade stood up and Robin gripped his mug a bit tighter, just in case he had to use it. "Rest. I don't have any headache pills here, and the pain relief I brought with me would more or less knock you out, so you just have to soldier through for now. I'm going to go turn on the water and make sure we'll get hot water by tomorrow. If you try to run, you won't succeed, I'll get angry and you'll spend the rest of your time here tied down, understood?"

Robin reluctantly nodded.

"Good. Finish your soup. We don't waste food here."

'We don't waste food here' Robin mimed with a mocking grimace behind the man's back. When Slade paused and looked back at him, though, he quickly looked away and innocently took a sip of the now lukewarm soup.

He then took a proper look around. He seemed to be in the sitting room of a timber cabin. There was still some light coming in through small mullioned windows. The six square pieces of glass in each window were thick, probably old, and made the little he could see of the outside slightly distorted. The rest of the light came from oil lamps, and Robin wondered if there was any electricity at all. Where the hell was he? Slade had said 'back to Jump', but how far out of the city had he been taken? The man didn't seem very concerned with him running out on the street crying for help…

He quickly finished his soup and tried to stand up. He growled with pain and sank back again. It didn't feel like anything was broken, but it was bad enough that he might, at most, be able to hobble around. It wasn't worth that just to look out a window right now. Instead, he tested his body out. He seemed to have a few cuts under bandages, and remembered Slade saying something about stitches. Bruises were forming all over his body. His face and teeth felt fine, but the side of his head was throbbing slightly, and there was a bit of a lump. No wonder he had a headache. All in all, he'd been worse off. He just hadn't been locked up with an arch nemesis and half-dressed at the same time before.

Slade returned after a little while and took the now empty mug off the table.

"So… is… this your place?" Robin asked.

"It is."

"I remember you saying something about leaving because there wasn't any electricity or something?" Robin said. "Isn't going to a place without electricity pretty…. Counter productive?"

"No, it's stable. Besides, I have a small generator to keep any electronics I might need charged. When did California become the arctic anyway?"

"That's at least not my fault!" Robin objected. "You can't blame me for the weather!"

"I think I agreed with that in the car," the man muttered, sounding like he hadn't wanted to.

"So… if you didn't know about the weather, you can't have been in the country, it's been national news for a while now. Probably not in Europe either. You must have been pretty far away and out of reach of western news," Robin concluded.

"Don't try to detective me, kid, I'm not in the mood. Are you still hungry?"

"I'm ok," the teen said quickly, hearing the man's tone of voice.

"I didn't ask I you were ok, I asked if you were still hungry."

"I… could it a bit more, but I can wait…?" the hero said.

Slade sighed like Robin was annoying him. "We'll have dinner in two hours, then. There's some soup left in the meanwhile."

Soon Robin had another mug of steaming soup in his hands, and he was carefully studying the man while he sipped it. Slade was sitting in the chair again, staring into the dancing flames and looking… angry? Irritated? Troubled? Robin wasn't sure, but by now he had picked up on that there was something going on here that had nothing to do with him. He did have a feeling that he was unwelcome here, though.

He stayed quiet for as long as the soup lasted, but then it because almost unbearable. He and Raven might be two of the more brooding Titans, but he was clearly a chatterbox compared to Slade.

"Thank you for saving me," he said, softly. He got a huff in reply. "I know you don't want me here, so if you just take me back to Jump-" he suggested.

"So you can go out fighting again? I don't think so," Slade growled.

"I won't! I promise!"

"Until the next alarm goes off or you hear a cry for help. No. I'm calling Wayne," the man decided and stood up.

"I don't even get it!" Robin almost yelled. "I know you said you used to work for him, but after that you sure as hell wasn't my friend! Don't you want me dead? Why the hell is a villain babysitting a hero all of a sudden?!"

The man looked at him like he was contemplating the same thing. "Maybe I've decided enough kids have died lately," he grunted, turned on his heel and left the room.

The man's words, the tone in his voice and look in his eye gave Robin pause. He didn't try to call the man back or plead with him some more. Besides, what was the option? Staying here with a sullen killer? Nope. Besides, the Bruce thing was probably bullshit anyway.

"Practically scraped him off the floor," he heard Slade say as he returned. "He's alright. Some cuts and bruises. But you know what will happen if I let him run back." The man paused. "Exactly. Of course." He lowered the phone and turned to Robin. "Your mentor wants a word." He threw the phone to Robin who deftly caught it. It was an old Nokia model. Must be a back-up phone, the teen gathered. Maybe used here, as it held its battery pretty well.

"Hello?" Robin said, not sure who would be on the other end. There was no way it was Bruce.

"You're an idiot."

It was Bruce.

"I was just trying to-"

"Get yourself killed, yes," the man on the other end growled. "We're swamped here as it is, I can't pick you up right now."

"You don't need to-"

"You promised to stay put. No unnecessary risks. You broke that promise. Seems to me you need a sitter. Put Wilson back on."

"Wilson?" Robin asked, but as there was only one more person in the room, it had to be Slade, of course. "Oh. No, wait! The hell, Bruce?! You sent Slade to spy on me!?"

"He told you about that, huh? Yes. He was a good choice. We had to confirm that you could handle yourselves."

"Gee, thanks. It was a shitty thing to do."

"Let's just say that if he had found that you pulled stunts like you just did, the Teen Titans would not exist today," Bruce growled. "Now put him back on."

Robin held out the phone to the man who took it.

"Yes? No. No, but-" The mercenary paused and listened. He then grunted. "I'm a very expensive nanny, Wayne." Another pause. "Nice try. Double it." Pause. "Fine, but I get free hands. If I feel it's necessary to tie him up naked outside and whip him with a cane, I will." Pause and small smirk. "Really? I don't blame you. Very well. I'll get in touch again in a few days. We're a bit off grid here."

The call ended a moment later and the mercenary muttered something to himself under his breath before turning to Robin.

"Guess you're stuck here for now, kid. At least I'm making easy money on you."

"Yay."

"No lip. Can you make yourself useful?"

Robin felt very strongly that 'no' would be the wrong answer here, so he nodded.

"Then get into the kitchen. I'm getting some potatoes," the man said, pulled on his boots that were sitting by the door, and left.

Robin blinked, but then decided that he should probably get a move on. He tried to get up again, and now, having an incentive ‒ he refused to think of it as permission ‒ he got to his feet and, hissing and cursing, hobbled in the direction the man had indicated. The indignation over what Bruce had done was already dying down. He hated it, but the man was right: it had made sense. It wasn't his fault that Slade, for whatever reason, had decided to stick around. Sure, it was a breech of trust, but also a test. And they had passed. He couldn't help feeling proud about that. He decided that too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours and the situation he was in was too weird to hold a grudge about something that happened years ago… there were more important things to focus on right now. That, however, didn't mean he'd just obey and do what the men told him.

The kitchen was surprisingly large and was completely dominated by a large cast iron wood burning stove, which heat was already reaching the other room. He had barely come inside when Slade entered, carrying a bucket with potatoes, onions and carrots.

"Got a secret garden or something?" Robin asked.

"No, but a root cellar," the man told him. "Here, peel enough potatoes for dinner," he added, putting the bucket on the counter.

Robin wanted to ask how many that was, but decided to peel enough for him and then simply ask. There was running water, but it was freezing cold.

"It will take a while for the hot water to work, and we'll want to save it," Slade told him. Robin only nodded; he wasn't going to argue with that.

Slade didn't seem to have a peeler, so Robin had to focus a bit more on his task while using a small knife. The man had grabbed an onion and a carrot and was chopping them up. He then grabbed an iron pot and put it on the stove to heat up.

Apparently, Robin wasn't working fast enough, because Slade started to peel potatoes too, and, the teen had to admit, much quicker than he did. The man seemed to have a total disregard for his own fingers.

Once everything was chopped up, Slade put some oil in the pot and fried the onions, then he added water and put the rest of the vegetables in. He opened a huge floor to ceiling cabinet and Robin was stunned at how jam packed it was with cans and containers.

"I'll go get some fresh food tomorrow," Slade said as he withdrew some canned beef and added it to the pot along with salt and pepper. "In the meanwhile, this will have to do."

"Not complaining," Robin said, who didn't think he'd have a problem eating the stew.

The kitchen contained a small table which Slade started set with miss-matched plates and glasses.

"Take that big pot, fill it with water and put it on the stove. We'll need it for washing up," the man told him.

Robin tried, but when he was going to lift the filled pot, minding his injured arm, it was pain from another place that made him hiss. He cradled his side. Slade came over and lifted the pot for him.

"Sorry," Robin mumbled, feeling useless.

"Your ribs hurt, huh?"

"A bit."

The man suddenly grabbed him and pulled him close, running a big, warm, callused hand up under Robin's oversized sweatshirt. The teen gasped, caught in a fight or flight instinct, before he realized that the man was feeling his ribs.

"Thought so, nothing broken," Slade concluded, and let him go.

"You could have just have asked!" Robin snarled.

"And you could have lied. Quicker this way," the man smirked down at him.

Robin felt himself blush and turned around, tugging down on the sweatshirt even more.

"Can I come with you to the store tomorrow?" he asked.

"Dressed like that?"

"You obviously have clothes here, just lend me some!"

"You look like you're drowning in that shirt. In pants and boots you wouldn't be able to move. No, you'll stay here."

"Will you buy me some clothes, then?" Robin asked.

"Possibly. But if you're half naked you're not going to do something stupid like trying to run away. I hope. So maybe not yet."

The teen tried the bat-glare on the man, but was apparently not doing a good enough job, because Slade looked quite unimpressed. He gave up and occupied himself with stirring the stew instead, pretending that the look never happened. Bruce and Slade could go to hell, he decided. He'd stay here to heal up, but then he'd leave. How hard could that be?

The food was acceptable. Robin was used to Starfire's cooking, after all, and although rather basic and watery, the stew did what it was supposed to and filled them both up. Slade sealed the leftovers up and put them out in the snow. Robin, without being asked to, because he preferred not to be ordered around by the man, started the washing up. There wasn't a lot, of course, but it was meditative, and he hummed a bit while carefully poring some of the now hot dishwater over the plates to rinse them. He had to be careful so he didn't run out of hot water. He felt a gaze on him and turned his head to see Slade watching him from the doorway with a slightly odd, contemplative look on his face.

"You can put all the dishes in the hot water and rinse them in cold," the man suggested.

"Yeah, but I still can't lift the pot," the teen reminded him.

"You could have asked," the man grunted and came up to do it for him.

"Didn't want to annoy you," Robin muttered, and the snort he got in reply told him that he had been able to do so anyway. "Are you always this pleasant in private? I think I prefer just fighting you," Robin added.

"Keep that up and you might get your wish," the man growled and stalked out of the room. "Tidy up the kitchen!" he barked in farewell.

Robin, who had had every intention of doing so before the order now hated the idea, but didn't feel he had a choice, so he did his job while pondering the enigma that was Slade Wilson. It was clear something was wrong. Even when they were fighting, Slade usually seemed… well… happy to see him. Robin groaned, as that thought was much too weird, but he knew it was true. This Slade seemed to want to be left alone, however. He was acting like he should be sitting surrounded by a couple of empty whiskey bottles, but so far, the teen hadn't seen any alcohol. He snooped through the kitchen as he was cleaning up, but didn't even find a beer. That was strange. Or was it? Maybe Slade didn't drink? You didn't get a body like his by drinking liquid calories like that after all… He knew so preciously little about the man, and all his detective senses were tingling. His comment about enough kids dying lately was the main clue. What kids had died? Had Slade killed them? The very thought made Robin want to throw up. Slade, in his mind, was a world apart from other villains. His skill, his… well, charisma… the way they interacted. Robin had felt a respect for the man he had never felt for anyone else he had fought. But if he had killed kids… He knew the man was a killer, a hired one, and that was bad in and of itself, of course it was, but it was different with kids. That was something he could never accept.

Robin blinked. Accept? What was he thinking? Of course nothing about Slade was something he could 'accept'! Why would he even want to? But this was part of what set Slade apart. Robin wanted to… something. Know more about him, certainly. Other villains he simply wanted to stop. He didn't care much about what made them tick, unless he could use it to bring them down, but with Slade he was… interested. Curious. Pulled towards. Attrac- no. No, that was the wrong word, Robin quickly decided. Not that. That would be wrong. Especially now when the man was acting like such an ass. It was hurtful. It made the teen feel- No. Wrong line of thought again. He looked around the kitchen and decided that things looked better now than it did before. The place had clearly been unused for a while, and had needed a good wiping down. He limped back to the sitting room and found it empty. He took a good look out of the small windows but all he could see was snow and trees. Not good. He hickuped as the door suddenly opened, but it was only Slade, coming in carrying a huge load of firewood. The man didn't acknowledge him as he stacked his burden neatly by the fire place, while adding a few pieces to the fire. He then walked out the door again. A few minutes later he was back with even more firewood that he took into the kitchen.

"Do you have a whole forest of that stuff so we won't freeze?" Robin asked.

"I make sure to fill up the woodshed each autumn, yes," Slade told him. "The water heater runs on pellets, though."

Robin didn't quite know what that meant, but he assumed it was a type of pellets you burned, not the type you fed rabbits. How much of it would be needed or how the process worked, he had no idea about however. Maybe he'd ask later.

"Ok," he just said, and then looked around. "Um… do you need help with anything?"

"No. Go rest."

"Do you have anything to do? Like something to read?"

"Isn't your head still hurting?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Then go rest."

Robin sighed, but truth be told he wasn't feeling his best. He stretched out on the couch, covered himself with the blanket and watched the fire. This wasn't really what he thought would happen when he woke up this morning. He dozed off. At some point he heard the faint sound of Slade speaking in the other room, but then he next woke up it was dark and quiet.

He had had a dream that he was being carried, but he was still on the couch, feeling every lump in it by now. He also felt the pressing need to pee. He got up, grunting like an old man because of the soreness, and looked around. There was still some light coming from the fire, but it was barely more than embers. It was enough to see that Slade had put a flashlight on the coffee table, however, and he gratefully grabbed it.

He still didn't know quite where to go, but he knew the kitchen was to the left, so he guessed any bathroom would be to the right, where Slade's bedroom must be.

He saw a short hallway with three closed doors.

"Great. A game show. What's behind door number one?" he muttered to himself and, silently opened it. It appeared he had won a mercenary. Slade had been sleeping, bare chested, the teen noticed, but was now waking up.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

"Um… I need the bathroom?" Robin said.

"Next door for crapping, if you just need a piss it's better if you go outside. Saves room in the tank."

"I… don't have any shoes…?" the teen pointed out.

"Borrow mine or go inside, then. And put a few logs on the fire, it should be dying out around now. I guess you don't want to be cold in the morning." Slade said the last part a bit derisively, like the sentence had an unspoken 'you pussy', tagged on to it. The teen decided to ignore it, though.

"Ok," he merely said and closed the door again. He decided to save going out until tomorrow, and found the bathroom. It consisted of a huge metal sink that was clearly made to wash clothes in and must have been old, as well as a modern shower cubicle and a portable toilet. There was a mirror hanging on a wall which amused Robin to no end, because he imagined Slade primping in front of it. Then he spotted the shaving things below it and realized that the mirror had a slightly more boring, practical use.

After finishing up, he put a few more logs on the fire and went back to the couch. It was much harder to fall asleep this time around but, somehow, he managed.

"Breakfast," he was suddenly told, waking him up.

"… kay…" he muttered and shuffled out into the kitchen.

"How is the pain?" he was asked as Slade scooped something onto plates.

"Just sore," Robin shrugged. "Not too bad."

"I'll check your wounds when we've eaten. Then I'll go pick up groceries."

The teen sat down and looked at his plate. "What is this? Plain oatmeal porridge?"

"Eat up," he was told.

There was nothing in the porridge that made it nice to eat, not even some sugar. The teen liked the dish normally, but with some kinds of preserves, or fresh fruit. And milk. From the man's tone he didn't dare ask if there was anything to make it more appealing, though, and the man hadn't been shopping, after all, so there probably wasn't. It also seemed he had woken up on the same side as yesterday, something the teen felt like he had to address, so after swallowing a few spoons of the gray gruel, he gathered the needed courage.

"Slade…? Are you… okay?" he asked carefully.

"What?" the man muttered.

"It's like… I don't know you, but you act… a bit off."

"As you said, you don't know me."

"Come on! You've fought me acting cheerier that this, I know something has happened!"

"It's none of your business," the man as good as confirmed.

"It is if you're gonna bite my head off at every turn. Whatever happened wasn't my fault, was it?" the teen snapped in his best scolding voice. "I refuse to pay for it."

He glared at the man and Slade looked back flatly for a moment before looking away.

"I'm going shopping. Clean up," he then said and stood up. Robin thought he could see the corners of the man's lips quirk, however, so he was hopeful that he was breaking through. Or the man was just fantasizing about killing him.

After tidying up the kitchen and putting more logs on the fire, Robin started snooping. Carefully but thoroughly. He didn't know how long Slade had owned the cabin, but it soon became clear to him that that it at least had had previous owners, as he found signs of them. The ten year old magazines could have been Slade's, but not with a badly filled in cross word puzzle. The two worn harlequin novels he found in the same cupboard, which filled with odds and ends, were probably not his either. The door to the man's bedroom was locked, and though Robin could easily pick it, he chose not to. He found the boiler room, though, with the water heater. There was some storage in here too, and Robin found a pair of rubber boots which weren't Slade's either. They were too small, dark green and had a border of flowers printed around the top. He grabbed them and a dusty jacket that was hanging on a peg, and decided to look around outside. After all, he needed to pee and the man had literally told him to do it outside, so…

"Fuck."

Robin had stepped outside. His legs were bare in the gap between where the rubber boots ended and Slade's sweatshirt began. The jacket was thin, more of a rain jacket than anything else, and it was cold. Rubber boots were not meant to be worn in snow. Especially not without socks in them. Still, the cold wasn't why he had sworn. It was because of the surrounding areas. He had been walking a little bit on the narrow road that led to the cabin. It had been plowed at some point, Slade must have paid someone to do it, Robin assumed, but now there were deep tracks from the man's car. And it just kept going. And going. Nothing else seemed to be around but forest. No wonder Slade wasn't worried about him running out and crying for help. There was no one around to hear him.

He turned around as he didn't want to get accused for trying to run away. There was a trampled path in the snow, leading around the building, and he took it. There was a large shed, probably the woodshed, Robin assumed, and the path then split and led towards a door that seemed to lead into a hill. That must be the root cellar. Another path seemed to lead directly into the forest, and Robin followed that too. It didn't go far and when it ended it was clear what the man used it for. The yellow stains on the snow were telling enough. Seeing them, Robin battled with emptions of mild disgust, fascination and mirth. It was somehow, weirdly enough, funny to him that the man peed. He didn't understand why, because of course he did! It was just so… ordinary. As he needed to go himself, he grinned and decided to pee there too. Covering his man's marking. Claiming the territory for himself. He snickered to himself at those thoughts, it was silly. But he did it anyway.

Slade didn't return for another two hours. Either he took his time shopping, or it was quite a drive to the store. His return consisted of him opening the door, throwing a pair of boots in the teen's general direction and saying:

"Come help unload what you can."

The boots were warm and fitted very well, maybe slightly too big, but on the other hand he was barefoot in them. Slade had already grabbed a couple of bags of what looked like groceries, and nodded towards a few other bags. They turned out to contain clothes, to Robin's great joy.

"I can get dressed, right?" he asked, just to be sure.

"If you want to disappoint me," Slade said. As Robin hesitated, not quite knowing what to make of that comment, the man snorted. "Of course you can. Go. I'll put the food away."

Robin unpacked quite a bit of clothes, including several packs of socks and underwear. It was all simple garments, three pair of sweatpants, two long sleeved t-shirts and two hoodies. One bag also contained outdoor attires, including pants, jacket, gloves and a thick beanie. Either Slade forgot about his plan to keep him half naked so he wouldn't escape, or it had changed. Well. Most likely it had been a joke in the first place, but it wasn't always easy to tell.

Robin pulled on a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie and a pair of socks. It helped him feel a bit more like himself, even though the waistband of the sweatpants chafed somewhat against a bandaged wound on his back. He grimaced and adjusted it, and Slade, of course, happened to catch that.

"Come here, let's look your wounds over," the man said and sat down in his armchair in front of the fire.

Robin reluctantly walked over and stood between the man's knees, feeling self-conscious.

"My powers don't include seeing through clothes, take your top off," the man told him.

"…just got dressed…" the hero muttered but did as he was told. He almost stopped breathing as the man then grabbed his hips and turned him around to look at his back. There was something about the man's hands that was almost… he imagined him having small, poisonous barbs on his fingertips, that somehow paralyzed whoever he touched and made them feel… The teen left the trail of thought there, afraid to take another step.

He hissed as Slade pulled off the adhesive tape and the hand that was still resting on his hip tightened in warning to stay still. Robin felt fingers carefully feel his injuries and bruises, and gasped as the man leaned his head closer.

"What-what are you doing?!" the teen asked as he could feel the mercenary's breath on his skin.

"Smelling the wound. One way to detect infection."

"Oh… and… and is it?"

"No, it's probably just you who need a shower."

"Hey!"

"If someone else had thought all those people and then been more or less unconscious for a day, they'd need a bit more than a shower, I'd wager…" Slade chuckled.

Robin thought it was a sort of praise. Somewhere in there. Hidden by the unspoken 'you smell'.

"Can I take a shower then?"

"Yes, tonight. But be careful with the water. Don't waste it."

"Ok, ow!"

"Hmmm… Like I said before, no broken ribs, but this one might have a fracture… or it's at least severely bruised. It's what makes you unable to lift heavy things. Drop your pants."

Robin wanted to object, but knew it was silly. Slade was just helping out and had already seen him at LEAST in his underwear. Didn't mean he was comfortable doing it, though.

Slade checked the back of his thigh carefully.

"I'm going to let the stitches here and on your arm be for a week or a little more," he announced. "Mind them, though. Let me know if any wound starts to hurt more or feels swollen."

"I know how it works," Robin said, trying not to snap.

"You would, wouldn't you?" The man then took hold of his arm with the injured shoulder, and started to slowly manipulate it, turning it this way and that, checking every joint until he reached the shoulder, making the teen flinch. "Still sore?"

"Just… around it, I think," Robin admitted.

"Yes, there's a lot of bruising. Any other part of your body that hurts or feel unnaturally stiff?"

Robin's face exploded in color, and he was glad that he was turned away from the man. It was just that his words could be interpreted in several way and he didn't want to think about one of them.

"No… no, just bruised and sore," he claimed.

"And your head?"

"Haven't had a headache since yesterday."

"Alright, get dressed. All in all, it doesn't look too bad. You should start stretching tomorrow, but be careful. Let me know if you want help."

"Ok," Robin nodded a she stepped away and hurriedly got his clothes on again. "Thanks," he added, because he thought it was warranted, both for the examination and the offer to help.

"You're welcome."

Slade's voice sounded slightly… different. Warmer? More intense? Robin wasn't sure, but he turned around and looked down on the still sitting man in surprise. Slade had that look in his eye again, and was just watching him like he was an exhibition piece at a museum or something. Something he considered stealing. Then it was like the man shook it off and stood up, almost brusquely.

"It's time to start dinner," he stated.

As they were eating, they were actually talking. That was new. It had started with a picture on the milk package, an animal fact for kids about toucans, and it had led to Slade now telling him about some misadventures he had had in the South American jungles. His dry way of talking about things like taking a crap basically on top of an anthill and shaking huge spiders out of his boots had the teen in stiches and awe respectively. Robin, a city boy as he was, still had a great love of nature and animals and had lots of questions. It was strange how easy it was to talk to the man, but it was also clear that Slade was in charge of the limits to the conversation. When he was done eating, he simply ended it by standing up.

"Clean up. I'm going out to fetch more fire wood."

"Ok," Robin, who had wanted to talk a lot longer, said. "Slade?"

"Yes?"

"May I call Bruce?"

The man arched an eyebrow. "You want daddy to pick you up already?"

"No! No, I definitely don't want that. I just want to talk to him about the situation. Maybe there's something I can do to help that doesn't involve going out. Once I'm better, of course," he added.

"Fine, one moment," Slade told him and returned with the phone. "His number is under 'Bat'. It's a secure connection," he was told.

Snickering, Robin took the phone and called the man up.

"What?" Bruce answered.

"Gosh, is Alfred ok with you answering your phone like that?" Robin asked.

"Ah. I thought it was Wilson. Are you ok? You sound better. No headache?"

The teen chuckled. Bruce could start his own medical phone line if he wanted. Robin was sure the man could detect an ingrown nail by the tone of someone's voice.

"No, not anymore, but do you have a minute?" Robin asked. Slade had just left and he felt he could speak freely.

The dark knight hesitated. "Yes. I gather it's important?"

"Well, yes, and no."

"Good, that cleared that up." Batman said dryly.

"I just… I wanted to say that I understand that I was acting… rashly." Robin started. "I think having to have a babysitter is a bit much, though."

"Perhaps, but it might make you think twice about doing anything that idiotic again," the man said.

"And if I'm a quick learner?"

"Are you treated badly? Wilson can be a bit… rough around the edges, but I honestly thought you were safe, or I'd-"

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm fine. It's just… we're in the middle of nowhere. If something happened-"

"It's not your responsibility. Not for a while."

"For how long?"

"At least until you're fully healed, and you're not doing single missions until after the Titans can rejoin you. A vaccine is being worked on, and we're looking into making sure it's tuned to everyone's needs. We're also testing heroes to see if some are immune. Superman was, which was very low odds, sure, but it helps. Super-covid? No, thanks."

"I know… but I was thinking, maybe I can help? Some other way?"

"Yes, you could probably join me here and help out in a bit, but heal up first. Take this time to study someone like Wilson. What makes him tick? What are his motivations? Fears? If you can figure that out, it might help in profiling other people like him."

"I really hope there's no one else like him," Robin half joked.

"Mercenaries, I mean. People who can be bought. And people with codes of conduct. Slade has a very strict one, that's how I knew you were safe. Get to know him. It could be rewarding."

"Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Robin sighed. "You'd better send a car for me in a week or so, though…"

"I'll have Slade drive you," Batman said. "That way there's no chance of you being contaminated, and Alfred could do with some actual company."

"He's in isolation?" Robin asked.

"I still have to 'see' some people," Batman said. "I'd rather be safe than sorry when it comes to him. We keep a room apart, at least."

"Oh, that sucks…" Robin groaned.

"It's not fun. But the fewer people we interact with…"

"I know. Tell him hi from me, though, will you? And the Titans too?"

"I will. I have a feeling Wilson will charge this call as an overseas call, so I think we'd better hang up. Hang in there, ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll just be bored for a while, that won't kill me," Robin chuckled, and they said their goodbyes.

The shower felt amazing. Robin tried to keep it as short as possible, although he really wanted to just stand under the spray until all the hot water had been used. He left the bathroom wearing a towel, as he hadn't brought any fresh clothes with him in there.

Slade was in his usual chair, reading, but Robin felt the man's eye on him from the moment he came into the room.

"What?" he asked, as he found the pack of underwear he had been looking for.

"Just making sure your wounds aren't worse for wear," the man claimed.

"Aw, and here I was, feeling pretty," the teen joked, then blushed a little at his brashness.

"Of course you are," the man told him with an amused snort. "If not enough people are telling you that, you might want to do as your alien friend and show more skin more often."

Robin burst out laughing at the man's obvious joke.

"If I didn't know better, I'd call Bruce again. He assured me I was completely safe here and now I'm worried about my honor," he claimed, in a fake chocked, high pithed voice.

"You're perfectly safe," the man huffed, focusing on his book again. His tone of voice was a bit off, though, Robin thought. A bit too serious. Maybe the man was offended at the thought? Robin hadn't gotten a homophobic vibe from the man though, sometimes he even thought that Slade was low key flirting with him, not just teasing. But then the guy would close up again, like a damn clam. Well, he'd get beneath that shell if he so had to pry it open. Only to find out more about him, of course, like Bruce had suggested.

"What do you usually do here?" Robin asked that evening. "I'm not saying I'm bored, but I'm counting knot holes in the walls."

"I read. Hike. Enjoy the quiet," Slade told him, giving him a telling look.

Robin ignored him. "So, do you come here after every mission?"

"No."

"After every hard one?"

"No."

"After every one that went… wrong?"

That got a look.

"No."

"But you did this time, didn't you? Because things went wrong?"

"I've already told you, I couldn't stand the havoc in Jump."

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?" the man said, sitting up a little straighter in his chair.

Robin ignored that warning too.

"It's bullshit. Someone like you would have simply delt with it. You said one base had a generator. Hell, you're ballsy enough to move into Titan's Tower, under the pretense that you're caring for me, if power and water was all you wanted, we are self-sustaining. You wanted to come here. To brood."

"Brood?"

"I could have used 'mope', but I didn't," the teen snorted. "I get it, trust me, I like my own alone-time when things get too… real, but you know what works better? Talking to someone."

"And that would be you?" the man grunted.

"That would be me," Robin nodded. "Why not? I'm one of the good guys!"

"Exactly."

"Ah. You're afraid I'll judge you?" Robin asked. When he only got an amused snort in reply, he pushed on. "I won't. Or… I'll try not to. You said something about kids dying… did you…? I mean… were they your targets?"

"Of course not!" The man seemed utterly disgusted by the very idea, which calmed the teen's fear.

"So… it was an accident?"

The man looked away, and the teen could see his jaw tense. He wasn't sure if the man would blow up at him or leave, so he just stayed very still and quiet, waiting. In the end, there was a short nod.

"I'm sorry," Robin said softly.

"Wasn't your fault."

"I'm sure it wasn't yours either," the teen said carefully. "Accidents happen, and-"

Slade stood up abruptly. "I think there's a pack of cards here somewhere. Want to play?" he asked.

It was clearly a way to stop the conversation, but Robin accepted. They played long into the night, staying clear of any talk about either children or accidents. They ended up sharing many laughs together, although Robin was normally the one to laugh out loud. Slade seemed content with expressing his mirth with smirks, huffs or grunts, but the teen tricked a chuckle out of him now and then, which he counted as a win. It wasn't such a sucky day after all.

Breakfast the next morning was porridge again, but with milk and jam this time. And eggs. And bread.

"Are you fattening me up for slaughter?" Robin joked.

"Is this some sort of eat me-joke?" the man snorted. "Stop complaining about getting fed and sit down."

Robin chuckled to himself as he, this time, could tell that the man was joking. Maybe he was getting better at reading him? It was also possible that Slade was letting his guard down a bit more around him now. Either way, it was positive, the teen decided.

"Would you be up for a hike after breakfast?" Slade asked.

"A hike?" Robin gaped. "In all this snow?"

"I got you clothes," the man shrugged. "I was just wondering if your leg is well enough. And if you wanted to go."

"I… how far?" Robin was torn between an urge to GET OUT AND DO SOMETHING and wondering if he actually could. He'd rather die in the snow than let Slade carry him back.

"A very short round. There's a small lake only half a mile or so from here, I thought we could just go there and back."

Robin thought it over and then nodded. "Yeah, lets."

"Good. We'll leave when you're done cleaning the kitchen," the man told him.

Being outside, in proper clothes, was amazing. Slade hadn't skimped on the quality when it came to the outside gear, and Robin was only feeling the cold as he was breathing. It was refreshing, though. Slade, naturally, took the lead and made off through the forest, creating an easier path for Robin to walk in. Soon they were hiking along what seemed to be an animal path, and Slade pointed out a lot of different animal tracks to him. Robin was fascinated and a little bit awed. At one point the man gestured to him to stay quiet and walk slowly, and they spotted a small herd of deer.

"Black tail deer," Slade told him very quietly.

Robin was so excited seeing them that he hugged the man's arm, as he was afraid that he'd scare them away if he spoke. They stood there for quite some time, watching as the animals scratched in the snow for food, and seemed to gnaw on whatever they could find and reach of the vegetation. Suddenly there was a cracking sound from a branch that couldn't withstand the snow anymore and crashed to the ground, and the whole herd fled as one.

"One of your friends can turn himself into any animal, I wouldn't think a bunch of deer would impress you much," the mercenary told him, just as Robin realized that he was holding his arm and quickly let go.

"It's not the same, seeing real ones in the wild like this," the teen claimed. "Hey, do you rent this cabin out, because I wouldn't mind spending a week or two here in the summer." He said it jokingly, but he wasn't joking.

"I'm sure something can be arranged," the man chuckled. "Ready to move on?"

They did, and Robin wasn't ready to go home when they reached the lake, so they walked around it. The snow had blown off the ice, leaving parts of it clear, and Robin ventured out on it, just in the shallow parts. Suddenly he saw a shape moving slowly below the ice.

"Look! A turtle!" he exclaimed. They studied the animal moving very slowly under the ice, and then Robin said. "Did you know that turtles breathe through their ass when they hibernate under the ice?"

"Yes. I think that's one of those facts kids have loved to snicker about for generations," the man told him.

"Yeah, but I don't think people realize… I mean, so they have some kinds of glands or something inside their butts, right? And those can take up the oxygen in water, so they are like lungs but for water, so what the turtle does is basically giving itself cold water enemas all winter long. Can't be fun."

That was the first time Robin heard Slade truly laugh. The man even seemed to find it hard to stop.

"You… are a very interesting young man," he eventually said.

The young hero, who was elated at getting that sort of reaction out of the man, just grinned happily.

That night Robin found it cozy in front of the fire.

"You know, there is this thing where you take a product made from the cacao bean, mix it with sugar and warm milk…" he started.

"You want hot coco?" the man asked him, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "Are you eight?"

"Don't diss it! It's amazing! Especially after a day outside as you're warming up in front of a fire," the teen claimed.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but all we have is milk."

"Yeah, I didn't really think you had it, I was just saying it would have been nice," Robin shrugged. He pulled his blanket tighter around himself. The fire had died down when they got back, and they hadn't lit it immediately, so the place had cooled down a bit again. Robin suspected that Slade only kept it lit for his sake, but he needed it. He felt cold.

"So…" the mercenary leaned back in his chair, looking a little too pleased with himself for Robin's comfort. "You have tried to pry my secrets away from me… how about yours?"

"M-mine? I... don't have any? I mean… you clearly know my identity, so…?" Robin said.

"I'm sure you have one or two more secrets."

"And I would tell you why? Wouldn't you sell them to the highest bidder?" Robin teased.

"How about… tit for tat. Tell me something I don't know about you, and I'll answer one of your questions."

"Truthfully?"

"You have my word. As long as you stick to the truth as well, of course."

The teen hesitated, trying to figure out what the man wanted to talk about. It was probably not his favorite pizza, but the one thing he really wouldn't be happy telling the man about was a subject the mercenary was very unlikely to bring up, so…

"Alright. So… will this be like you ask a question and then it's my turn?"

"No, it's not a game. I want to know… did you think that you were going to win, when you faced them? The mob?"

"I… no. I mean… I knew it looked grim."

Slade sighed. "Idiot. Don't go into fights when you don't like the odds."

"Well, wouldn't have been able to fight you at all, then," the teen joked, making the man chuckle. Slade looked quite pleased.

"Still, you did win. If only barely."

"I guess I did…" Robin realized that he had, somehow, thought of the fight as a loss. He had been knocked out and taken prisoner at the end of it, after all. Well… he thought he had been taken prisoner.

"You could have really have won if you had fought smarter, though."

"You mean killing people? No."

"Well, there are other ways, making sure they stay down," the man shrugged. "I enjoyed seeing you punching Mammoth in the balls, though."

"I enjoyed doing it."

"Do you generally enjoy touching other men's balls?"

Robin choked. This. This was what the man would never, ever bring up. Ever.

"I-what-I-you-I-what…?" he stammered.

Slade chuckled. "I'm curious. I'm actually rather sure you do. Or would, given the opportunity. I am pretty good at reading people, and signals." The man leaned back in his chair a bit, the movement leading to his legs parting a bit more. "Like that one. You looked."

"I… I…" Robin was desperately trying to think of something to say, anything. "I… don't know."

"Bullshit." The answer was like the crack of a whip. "You promised to be truthful."

"Alright! I… yes. In theory. It's been something I've… thought about."

"That's all I wanted. A confirmation," Slade nodded, his voice calming now.

"Why?"

"Is that your question?"

The hero thought about it a bit. Yes, he wanted to know about the accident, but right now, this mattered more to him. Personally.

"Yes. Why do you care?"

"I like to be right."

"Was that the whole truth?" Robin asked suspiciously.

"It was true," the man smirked at him.

"You're hiding something!"

"Maybe you're not asking the right questions," the man deadpanned.

"Are you gay?" Robin threw the question out there without thought.

"No."

The disappointment the teen felt was real, but he refused to truly acknowledge it.

"I think that's enough for tonight," Slade told him. "I'm going to bed." He stood up.

"That's not fair," Robin grunted. "You found out more about me that I did about you."

"You should think of better questions for next time."

"Fine," the teen muttered. He was pretty tired and a new headache was brewing. "Could you put another log on the fire before you go?" he asked the man.

"I clearly should have gotten you a thicker blanket," the man told him, but did as he was asked. He then turned to leave, but when he reached the doorway, Robin called out again.

"One last question?"

The man stopped. "Yes?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder.

"Tell me something you're afraid of."

The man watched him quietly for a bit. "Losing control," he then simply said, and left.

Robin snorted. Of course. Control of what, though?

When Robin woke up in the morning, the first thing he realized was that he was sore. His whole body was aching from the walk the day before, and it was freezing cold. He burrowed deep under his blanket and shivered. Headache was back with a vengeance too. Great.

He heard Slade enter the room not long after.

"It's like a sauna in here, you put all the wood on the fire?"

"…cold…" Robin objected, his voice hoarse.

"Sure, for a sun," the man snorted. "Come on, get up, breakfast is ready."

Robin didn't answer, just curled up tighter.

"Robin?" The man's voice was stuck somewhere between irritation and concern as he pulled the teen's blanket sown.

"No… cold…" Robin complained. A hand felt his forehead.

"You're burning up."

"… cold."

"Ok, this is not the time to argue with me, but whatever," the man muttered. "Dammit," he heard Slade grunt to himself. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"…No…" Robin mumbled, starting to get annoyed that the man kept bugging him. He reached for the blanket. "Cold…"

"I'll get you my blanket too," the man said and tucked him in.

"Your sweatshirt too?" Robin piped up, as he, half conscious, realized he missed it.

"Very well. then I'm going to make you something to drink. You probably should have some fluids, at least…" the man muttered the last part to himself.

Not long after Robin groaned as he was sat up and the sweater was pulled over his head.

"Hurts…" he objected.

"Where? The wounds?"

The teen shook his head weakly. "Everywhere."

"Probably from the fever, then. You rest. I'll be back soon."

Robin was now dressed and under two blankets but was still shivering. He opened his mouth to say thank you, but instead started coughing.

"And that basically confirms it. Dammit, kid, don't fight a bunch of idiots in a pandemic without protection."

"You… think I have..?"

"It's basically the only thing that's going around, isn't it?"

"What if you get sick?" Robin asked worriedly.

The man chuckled. "Don't worry. I can't. Like I said, I'll be right back. Just going into the kitchen for a bit."

Robin nodded and burrowed under the blankets again. He was too tired to really think about being sick right now. It would sort itself out. Slade could handle it.

"I can't handle it," he heard Slade say much, much later. He had been drifting in and out of sleep all day. He remembered being put on the toilet at one point and gruffly told to do his business, but he had been too weak to even sit there without support. It would have been embarrassing if he had been well enough to care. "Not if he gets any sicker, at least. What hospital should I take him to? And should I sign him in as Dick Grayson?". It was quiet for a while. "Alright. I'm not a nurse, though, what should I do?" Quiet. "You're useless, let me talk to Alfred."

Robin fell asleep again, to the sound of the man's voice, only to be rudely awaken a bit later.

"Robin? Can you hear me?"

"…Shut up…" the teen groaned.

"Don't punch him, he's sick…" the teen heard the man mutter to himself before starting talking directly to him again. "I need to leave to get a number of medical supplies for you. I'll be back in two hours, hopefully. Do you need the bathroom?"

"No… sleep."

"Good plan. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Robin stuck to his plan until long after the mercenary was back again.

In the coming days he would fondly remember when he could sleep, because when the cough really started, sleep went out the window. Slade piled him up in the couch, and kept more or less forcing him to drink all kinds of things from water to soup. Everything seemed the same to Robin; he had lost all sense of taste. He seemed to be either coughing or in a fitful sleep for three days. When he woke up properly on the third day, he wasn't on the couch anymore, but in a bed.

"Where…?" the teen asked. He could see, by the walls, that he was still in the cabin.

"You're in my room." Slade was standing beside the bed, with a mug of something he wanted him to drink again, at least Robin suspected it was for him.

"Why?"

"Well, remember that you had some… stomach problems?"

"I... yeah… I… think so?" He could faintly remember instances of needing the bathroom urgently and calling for Slade.

"Well, one time… you didn't make it."

"Oh god…" Robin gaped.

"I needed a new sofa anyway."

"Oh… god…" the teen now groaned. He started to curl up in bed, but then felt something strange. "I'm… I'm wearing a…?"

"Adult one, yes. I'm sorry, but I wanted to make sure that my bed was safe."

"Shoot me."

"Excuse me?"

"Kill me. Now. I don't care how much you charge, just put it on the bill."

"I'm not sure Wayne would pay for that," the man chuckled.

"Specify it as a mercy killing. It would be," Robin grunted.

"I'm glad you're at least feeling better. Here," the man gave him the mug. "Drink up. You're going to get some solid food later. If you feel well enough to be embarrassed, you're well enough to eat."

Robin just muttered about wanting to die, but took the mug. His had was shaking a bit, and Slade cupped it with his own, stabilizing it, to make sure the teen didn't drop it. It felt like being caressed, and the teen blushed, looking up at the man. Slade met his quizzical gaze and moved away.

"I'm under strict instructions to make sure you talk to Alfred when you're well enough. Up for that in a bit?"

Robin nodded.

"I'll be back in a while, then."

After the man had left, Robin sipped on what looked like broth. He still couldn't taste anything. It made eating and drinking seem pointless. After finishing the mug, he lay down again. He felt exhausted, like he had run a marathon, but without the adrenaline. He should just close his eyes for a moment. When Slade returned with the phone a bit later, Robin was deeply asleep.

He still had bouts of coughing, but when they became rarer it was like the teen's body decided to catch up on all the real sleep it had been missing. Slade cruelly woke him up for food and bathroom breaks, but Robin more or less slept for two days straight. The fever was still lingering, although nowhere as high as it had been.

The next morning Robin woke up and found Slade sleeping next to him in the bed. It was startling, at first, having the man not only that close but that… vulnerable, next to him. He was on top of the covers, in a wife beater and sweatpants, sleeping on his back with one hand resting on his stomach. Robin fought an urge to touch him, wanting to run a hand over the arm muscles or chest, just out of curiosity. He didn't dare, of course, so he just rested on his side, watching, until sleep pulled him under again. He woke up when Slade sat up.

"Morning…" Robin mumbled. "Or whatever time it is."

"It's morning. Very early, though. How are you feeling?"

"Better. Just tired."

"Good. You're not coughing as much. I actually got to sleep a bit," the man said dryly.

"I noticed," Robin chuckled. "It was a bit of a shock to wake up next to your arch nemesis, snoring away."

"Two questions. No. Three," Slade started. "Do I snore?"

"No, it was just a joke."

"Alright. Second question… you don't really see me as your arch nemesis anymore, do you?"

"Well… no. I don't know what you are, but if you planned to kill me, you are going about it in a very complicated, roundabout way… and that doesn't seem like you."

The man chuckled. "Good. And lastly, then… I hope you didn't mind us sharing a bed? The new sofa should arrive tomorrow, and I didn't want to sleep on the floor if I didn't have to."

"I'm honestly just grateful you didn't make me sleep on the floor," Robin grinned.

"There were times I was considering it…" the man muttered.

"I don't blame you," the teen muttered. "I kinda wanted to rip my lungs out and throw them outside until they could behave better." As if his lungs wanted to object, the teen then started coughing.

"That's enough talking from you, I hear. I'll go stoke the fire. You don't need help to the bathroom?"

Robin shook his head, still coughing, and the man left. Once the idea of the bathroom had entered his head, however, he could feel that he needed to pee. Once the coughing fit was over, he got to his feet. His legs were trembling quite badly, and he had to support himself on first the bed and then the wall. He made it to the bathroom eventually, and blushed deeply as he removed the diaper. Thankfully it was completely dry. He didn't want to think about if there had been others, that had been changed, or how Slade had cleaned him up from the mess he had apparently made on the couch. Well, it was good that the villain seemingly didn't think they were enemies anymore, because there was no way in hell Robin would be able to fight him, ever again. Take over Jump? Be my guest! The world? Well, of course, don't let me stop you!

Robin did his business, and was glad that he was wearing pajama pants, as he now didn't have any underwear. He stumbled back down the hallway. It was more difficult now, his knees felt like they were about to collapse at any moment. He wanted to go into the kitchen, though, get a drink of water, see something apart from the bedroom. He had made it half way across the now emptier living room when Slade came out from the kitchen.

"No." The man spoke like you might tell off a puppy that was about to gnaw on your shoes. The next moment Robin had been swept up in the man's arms.

"But-" he started.

"No. You're going back to bed before you fall, hit your head and make this worse."

Robin felt incredibly small, curled up in the man's arms like that. It felt both embarrassing and strangely safe. And a little bit… exciting? He leaned his head against the man's chest.

"See? You're exhausted," Slade muttered, and soon the teen was back, tucked up in bed. "Do you feel up for talking to Alfred now?" he was asked.

"Yeah, love to!" Robin said. His body might be tired, but his mind wasn't. Not at the moment, at least.

"I'm so glad you hear your voice, Master Richard!" Alfred told him a little bit later. Robin almost choked up.

"Glad to hear your too, Al," he said, sounding overly glib in a way to compensate his emotions taking over.

"I'll leave you alone to chat. I'm going to pick up provisions, you're alright by yourself for a while, aren't you?" Slade told him.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Well, maybe-?"

"Yes?"

"Some water?"

"Every drop of water you drink that I don't have to spoon feed you and practically force down your throat is a bonus," the mercenary said dryly. "I'll be right back."

When he returned, he had also included bite-size slices of apple.

"Just in case miracles happen and you're hungry too," the man told him. "I've preordered what I need for pickup so I'll only be gone an hour or so."

Robin nodded and returned fully to the call.

"How are you feeling?" Alfred asked.

"Wrung out," the teen answered honestly. "But much, much better."

"Mr. Wilson was ready to drive you to the hospital a few times. He has been very worried about you. We all have been, of course."

"Well, he's been… nice. Taken care of me," Robin said, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I'd say. I doubt the man has slept at all. I have to say I am… surprised at his… dedication…"

There was a question of some sort in that sentence, but Robin wasn't sure what it was or even if he wanted to know.

"Well, he was probably just afraid that he wouldn't get paid if I died on him," Robin joked it all away, with a chuckle that turned into a small coughing fit.

"Are you alright, Master Richard?" Alfred's worried voice asked.

"Yeah…" Robin said weakly after finishing coughing. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize, dear boy. I am very sorry I can't be there to take care of you. I asked Master Wayne if I could borrow one of the biohazard suits, but-"

"No! No way! I would never forgive myself if I got you sick!" Robin exclaimed, terrified by the very idea.

"Master Bruce seemed to be of the same opinion," the old butler huffed. "And when I realized that Mr. Wilson was actually caring for you, I felt a bit better. How was the broth?"

"The what?"

"My chicken broth. The man got the recipe, I was under the impression that he was going to make it?"

"Oh. I don't know if he did. I've gotten broth to drink, I think, but I have no sense of taste whatsoever, so…"

"Well, I'm sure it will do you good anyway," the man concluded. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Your friends are sending you all their love. You can't call them from a normal cell phone, of course, but Master Bruce said that we might be able to patch then through to this line if you want to talk to them a bit later."

"I'd love to. Please send my love back," Robin said. He started to feel really, really tired now, though, especially after the coughing.

"I will. Now you take a good long nap, young man. I'm sure Mr. Wilson will call me later."

"He's'… called you a lot, it seems like?" Robin asked.

"Even Master Bruce complained that he wouldn't let him sleep when it was the most serious," the man answered, somewhere between joking and being dead serious. "We had a hospital and a cover story ready to go to. Mr. Wilson was actually on his way with you to his car at one point, but once he carried you outside, you started breathing a bit easier, so he stood outside with you in his arms, wrapped up like a burrito, I was assured, for hours. The coolness and fresh air seemed to help you."

"I… don't remember any of that…" Robin said, only now starting to realize how serious this might really have been.

"I am not surprised. For a few days there you were barely conscious at all," the old man sighed. "So, you can imagine how overjoyed I am to be speaking to you right now. But," he added, "you're not well yet. So listen to Mr. Wilson, he'll know what's best for you, and now it's time for that nap."

"Yes, Sir," Robin smiled. "I love you Al."

"I- I love you too, of course, master Richard," the man replied, a bit taken off guard, it sounded. They didn't often actually say the words, but Robin had felt that it was warranted. "Now sleep!" the butler added as an order.

Robin chuckled and they said their goodbyes and hung up. He wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep any more, but it didn't take long at all for him to drift off.

He woke up when he heard the front door close. He felt a bit better. That was a bit of a first, as of late, and made him hopeful for the future. He spotted the apple slices on the nightstand. They had browned a bit and it made him feel guilty. He reached out for them and sat up on the edge of the bed, dutifully eating them. He was almost done when Slade looked in hon him a little bit later.

"You've been awake all this time?" the man asked.

Robin shook his head. "No, just woke up. Not sure how long I was asleep for, though." He raised the plate he was holding. "Thanks for the apple. I actually think I can taste some sourness."

"Well, that's a good sign."

"I'd say. I don't think I could live without a sense of taste."

"Don't be absurd," the man snorted.

"No, I'm serious! Of course going blind or deaf would suck, but I know people like that, and they do fine, so I'd just have to cope, but to never be able to taste anything again…? I don't know… I think it would be worse in the long run."

Slade looked at him for a moment and then shrugged. "You might be right," he said, and the teen gave him a smile. "Now get back in bed."

Robin's smile faded. "But…?"

"Lunch is on the stove. I'll come get you for that and then we'll see how long you'd want to stay up," he was told. "Until then, you might as well rest."

"Ok…" Robin sighed. He laid back against the pillows. "Oh…" he said, just noticing something. "My bandages? The stitches are gone?"

"Yes, I took them out days ago. You should be all healed up, by now, though I imagine you probably barely notice because you're sick."

"No, my whole body kinda hurts," Robin grunted. "Slade?" he added as the man was about to leave.

"Yes?"

"Alfred… well, he told me about… well, how you've been taking care of me. I can't remember any of it, but… thank you."

"Couldn't have you die on me. Damn exhausting to dig a hole in the ground in the middle of winter," the man huffed and left. Robin snickered quietly to himself and then made himself comfortable.

The food looked good but, as usual, Robin's sense of taste didn't work. He thought he detected a hint of something, though, which gave him hope. He tried to help cleaning up but was soon leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

"If I didn't pity you, I'd laugh at you," Slade told him. "As athletic as you normally are, and now you lose your breath doing dishes."

"I know…" Robin muttered. "It's no fun."

"Go back to bed," the man ordered him kindly. "You'll soon be back on your feet again."

"Promise?" Robin asked pitifully, but shuffled away. He reached the living room and Slade's chair looked much too inviting so he curled up in that one instead, watching the fire.

He had been there for about twenty minutes when Slade, apparently done cleaning up, came out from the kitchen.

"You didn't come further? Why didn't you call for help? Are you feeling worse again?" the man asked, coming up to him quickly and feeling the teen's forehead. Robin smiled up at him and shook his head.

"I'm fine, just tired. I guess it felt better, sitting out here in front of the fire, than going back to the bedroom. I've spent so much time in bed already." He then realized something. "But you'll want your chair, right?". He started to unfurl to get up. Slade, however, stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Stay. I'll see if I can figure something out."

The man disappeared into the back for a while and when he came back Robin laughed at what he was carrying; a foldable lawn chair.

Slade put it in the place the sofa used to be and Robin again made an effort to get up.

"Didn't I tell you to stay?" the man asked, and sat down in the flimsy chair himself.

"You can't sit in that!" Robin objected. "It barley holds together as it is."

"It's good enough for one night," the man clamed, leaned back a bit and almost tipped the whole chair over.

Robin snickered and shook his head. "You sure?"

"I'm sure," the man insisted stubbornly.

"Ok… thanks." The teen smiled at him. "It won't be for too long… I don't think I'll make it to dinner without another nap."

"Well, that you have the energy to sit up at all is promising," the man claimed, and Robin had to agree.

"So… what is new in the world? Did I miss anything?" Robin asked.

The mercenary snorted, and then started filling him in on recent events. After about thirty minutes the teen's energy levels dropped, however, and Slade carried him back to the bedroom, scolding him about exerting himself. The teen wasn't sure how it was possible to do that when you were literally just sitting and listening, but he had to admit that it was the case. He fell asleep almost immediately.

The next day, in the afternoon, the sofa arrived. Robin was well enough to be dressed and was standing in the window, watching the two delivery men drag the thing, wrapped in plastic, off the truck. He laughed out loud when Slade simply picked it up by himself from there. The men gaped but then shrugged and left, as Robin opened the door for the mercenary. After a bit of work, most of it on Slade's part of course, they got the thing inside and unwrapped. Robin discovered that, while deeper, this sofa was slightly shorter than the other one. He wouldn't be able to stretch out on it fully, but hey, he couldn't expect Slade to buy a sofa that fitted his's needs, after all. He sat down on it and bounced slightly as if trying it out.

"It definitely has fewer lumps," he declared.

"You'll probably be more comfortable on it, yes. At least if you fold it out." Slade told him.

"What?" the teen asked and stood up when the man gestured for him to do so. A moment later there was a bed in place of the sofa.

"It's a fold out?" Robin was blown away. Slade had actually chosen a sofa to sleep on? For his sake? "Wow… thank you!"

The man looked away, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Well…" He coughed. "Well, if I rent the place out it makes sense. Families wouldn't rent unless there are more beds."

"Ah, yes, of course," the teen nodded, but he still suspected that business hadn't been on the man's mind when choosing the couch, and it made him feel warm inside.

Late that night he, unfortunately, started to feel warm in a bad way too. He also had a coughing attack that lasted a long time.

"I think you should sleep in the bedroom tonight as well," Slade told him. "I'd like to keep an eye on you so you don't have a relapse."

"I don't get it; I was starting to feel better!" Robin complained.

"You've been up and more active today, it's probably just that," the man let him know.

The teen didn't complain about sleeping in Slade's bed one more night, though. It felt… nice.

The next day he woke up fever free, but for the next couple of days Slade made sure he took it much easier than the teen would have wanted. Slade had bought some reading material at one of his grocery runs, however, and among that was a few magazines with logical puzzles and such, which at least helped the teen pass the time. Talking was another way, and Robin discovered, or rediscovered, that he loved listening to Slade's stories. The man told him of several rescue operations as well as military and government operations, and the teen was sure there was some censuring involved but he didn't mind. He found it a bit … endearing, almost, that the man chose stories where he was more or less the hero, because he very much doubted that most of his missions looked like that. It didn't matter, the stories were captivating. Robin told some of his own, both from Gotham and Jump, but his was darker. Things he had never really talked to anyone about before. Especially someone with Slade's perspective on things.

It was interesting. They debated some subjects quite heatedly sometimes – at least on Robin's part, as Slade never raised his voice – but it always ended in some sort of conclusion.

A day or so later, Robin had happily announced that he could taste breakfast fully again, and that evening, Slade came in from the kitchen with two mugs.

"Isn't it too late for coffee?" Robin asked when he saw that.

"It is," the man smirked and handed one of the mugs over.

Robin looked at the contents and his eyes widened.

"Is… Is this… hot chocolate?!" he exclaimed.

"I very much hope so, or I messed up," the man snorted.

The teen snickered but quickly took a sip.

"Mmm… sooooo goooooood!" he moaned.

"It's only hot chocolate, not sex," the man snorted, and took a sip as he sat down. "It is good, though," he conceded.

Robin snickered. His cheeks were a bit flushed, both from the man's comment and the surprisingly kind and thoughtful gesture. Slade picked up a book and started reading. Robin studied his face, smiling when he saw the shallow crease between the man's eyebrows that always appeared when he was focusing on a text. He knew that face so well by now, and he didn't miss when the crease deepened, just before the man looked up at him.

"What?" Slade grunted gruffly.

"Nothing." Robin smiled at him and raised his mug. "Thank you," he said warmly.

"Drink it before it goes cold, or I really wasted my time," the man muttered and went back to his book. Robin stifled a chuckle and did what he was told. A few minutes later something clicked inside him, and his eyes widened. He had a crush on Slade. Holy hell, he had a crush on Slade…

"Are you feeling ok?" Slade asked. "You've been very quiet since last night." The man moved as to feel his forehead, but Robin ducked out of the way.

"I'm fine, no fever or anything, guess I'm just tired," he claimed.

"Are you up for some outside time? Maybe a very short walk?"

"It's like I'm your dog or something," the teen chuckled.

"Yes, and I want to make sure the puppy is housebroken so we don't end up with a mess on the sofa again," Slade smirked at him.

"Will you please stop bringing that up?"

"Never."

"You won't… tell anyone though, will you?" Robin asked, worriedly.

"Of course not. I didn't even tell Alfred," Slade said. "And that was difficult. He is quite good at interrogation and he demanded to know about every second of every day when you were at your worst."

"I can't believe I got Covid from fighting crime…" Robin muttered. "It doesn't seem fair."

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," Slade shrugged.

"Hey!"

"Just telling it as it is, little hero. Get dressed. I have some firewood about to arrive."

"Not the kind of wood I-" Robin started, but then snapped his mouth shut as he discovered that he was actually saying it aloud.

"What was that now?" the man asked, arching an eyebrow at him, looking amused.

"I… just a bad joke! Sorry!"

"Why are you acting like I'd be angry?" the man asked, obviously perplexed.

"I… well, it was… I mean, you know I'm… and you are straight, and… I mean… you might feel offended?"

"Offended?" the man asked and then snorted like it was a feeling he couldn't see himself ever feeling. Like 'giddy'. "You'd have to work harder than that. Go get dressed. Besides," he said as Robin was almost out of the room. "I never said I was straight."

"Yes, you did!" the teen objected.

"Nope."

"I asked if you were gay, and- oh."

"Oh, indeed. You should know how to ask the right questions, I was quite disappointed in you," the man smirked. "Hurry up now, I hear the truck coming. I'll be outside."

Robin was beside himself as he threw his outdoor cloths on. Had Slade implied…? No, surely not? Besides, he had spent the whole night convincing himself that he had just been delusional and the whole 'having a crush on Slade' thing was just some Florence Nightingale effect-shit and not real. Then he had woken up on the sofa bed in the living room from Slade passing through on his way to the kitchen. The man hadn't been wearing a shirt and the teen had to admit that if it wasn't a crush it was at least lust. Lots and lots of lust. Not that it could lead anywhere. Not even now. He'd fight those thoughts and urges every step of the way.

"Did you forget how to put clothes on?" Slade called at him through the door.

Robin sighed.

"I might as well give up now…" he muttered to himself. He had a crush. Still. No matter. It would go away, all he needed to do was act like nothing had changed. No biggie, right?

"You're acting weird," Slade told him a few minutes later.

"What?! No! No, I'm not?!" Robin objected. Weirdly.

"Your voice is so high I am considering checking if your balls have retracted," the man snorted, calmy watching a truck tip a huge pile of fire wood of by the side of the road. "And," the mercenary added, "it's probably not healthy to have a face that red." He smirked at the teen, who didn't quite know what to do with himself and was therefore fuming.

"I'm going inside," he muttered.

"No, you're not. You could use the fresh air. I don't expect you to help me with this, but you're staying outside until I'm done."

"You're not the boss of me," Robin snorted.

"Oh? Balls back then?" the man asked and clearly eyed the teen's crotch.

At that point they were interrupted by the driver who honked his horn, waved at them and drove away, and Slade grabbed a wheelbarrow and started loading it with wood.

Somehow Robin remained outside after all. He told himself it was because he wanted to. And it was nice. He wanted to be of help, and Slade let him, but Robin soon found out that he couldn't do much before he needed to rest. The man didn't make any more comments and by the evening the teen felt like things were back to normal again.

"What happened?" Robin asked.

They were sitting by the fire as usual, Robin curled up in the sofa, and Slade sitting in his chair.

"What do you mean?"

"You know… the reason you wanted to come here."

Slade looked away, into the fire, and Robin sat up a bit.

"Come on!" he half pleaded, half demanded. "You can tell me! After everything that has happened… please, tell me?"

Slade grunted, but Robin heard defeat in the sound, and knew the man was about to give in.

"I was on a mission. Afghanistan," the mercenary began. "A country with a tragic history, but generally good people. The Talibans, though… they were beaten back, but they still cause a lot of misery. I was in a team of people who had been called in to free a group of women and children who had been taken hostage." The man paused and gave the teen a look like he resented him for making him tell the story. Robin remained quiet, however, waiting patiently, and after a while the man continued. "We located the area and created a diversion. Most of the men left and we took care of the rest, freeing around twenty women and their children. We had gotten our hands on a military bus, and were loading the hostages onto it when…" another short break, but then the man stubbornly continued, "when a woman with a crying toddler and a few older children asked me if she could go back for a toy her child wanted."

"You… speak… um… Afghan?"

"Dari. Yes, enough to get by. I speak a bit of Pashto too. There was still time, so I allowed her to go."

"And… something happened when she left?"

"No. She handed her child to me, dashed inside, came back with a teddy bear within five minutes or so, and then her family entered the bus like the others. The bus set off, and I was riding behind them on a motorcycle as guard. Two minutes after the bus started rolling… it blew up."

"A… a land mine?" Robin asked.

"I thought so too, at first, even though it seemed unlikely that close to the base… but no. It was just me and three others from the team left alive, but one of them was an explosives expert. She had blown it up. The woman. When she went back for that toy, she had put on a bomb belt of some sort. An extremely powerful one. And she blew herself up. And her children. And all the other women and children."

Robin stared at the man in horror. "I… how… I…why?"

Slade suddenly stood up, with an irritated huff. "Lunacy! Brainwashing! Religion! All three combined. She had been radicalized during the three months she had been a hostage, but the others didn't seem to be aware. The assholes had installed a failsafe in her, in case the women were to be rescued. She had her orders. And I helped her." The self-loathing was very evident in the man's voice.

"No! No, you didn't, how the hell were you to know?" Robin objected, standing up himself. "How… how do you know what happened, though…? If they all died?"

"The Taliban we had lured away," Slade growled. "When they came back… I made damn sure to get all the answers I needed."

Robin then did something that might have just been one of the bravest things he had ever done. He stepped forwards and hugged the man. Initially, Slade tensed and Robin was sure he'd be pushed away. He only hugged him harder, though, and, after an eternity, the man's arms encircled him as well.

"It wasn't your fault," Robin whispered into the man's chest.

"I know," the man grunted. "Intellectually, I know. But the sight. Bodies. Parts. Piles. Little heads. Little hands," The man's grip tightened until the teen could barely breathe. Not that he would ever object. "God, Robin…" Slade whispered. "I wish I could erase those images."

"It…. It will be ok," the teen promised. "It will be better."

"I know," the man repeated and then sighed heavily before slowly letting his embrace loosen. "It always does. This will just… be with me for a while." Though they were still embracing, they were now far enough apart so that the teen could look into the man's eye. There were no tears there, but there was pain. The hero desperately wanted to ease it. In any way he could. His arms found their way up around the man's neck, and before he had time to think, he was standing on tip toe, pressing his lips against Slade's.

The man, after a moment, kissed back, but he didn't deepen the kiss. Nor did he pull the teen closer. Robin noticed and, apprehensively, pulled away.

"I… I'm sorry," he stammered.

"Don't be." There was a small smile on the man's lips. "You're very good at distracting my thoughts. First by almost dying in front of my eyes, twice, then by this."

"Yes… you know… whatever I can do to help…?" Robin tried to joke.

"I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," the teen said and took a step back. Or he tried, because suddenly the man's hold around his waist tightened.

"Maybe I need some more distraction?" Slade contemplated.

The teen grinned and drew closer again. This time he waited for the mercenary to initiate the kiss, though.

"This is nice," Robin purred as they parted a while later. "I'd like more, please?"

"Not much more. I don't want to kill you," Slade chuckled.

The teen's eyes grew very round. "There's no way you're that big!" he then snorted.

Slade burst out laughing. "Kill you because you're recovering from being very sick, Robin. If I'm ever actually convicted for murder, I doubt the size of my cock would have anything to do with it. It would be deemed manslaughter, at most. Well. I'm not a rapist, so I guess it would be suicide, actually…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" Robin muttered embarrassedly.

"It's late. Let's go to bed," the man decided, and pulled the teen with him.

"I thought you said it was too soon?" the hero asked, hoping the man had changed his mind.

"It is. You're my emotional support animal for the night."

"Do I get training and a vest?"

"I already trained you. And you can wear whatever the fuck you want. Although nothing would be preferable," the man half chuckled, half snorted.

The teen only snickered instead of objecting, because he could feel that the man actually did want his company, maybe even needed it. Being forced to relive those memories still affected him, Robin was sure of that, and those suspicions strengthened when they a few minutes later lay entwined in bed, just holding each other.

"Part of me is sorry I asked you, and part of me is happy I now know," Robin said softly.

"It was my choice to tell you," the man said.

"Why didn't you want to, before?"

"I wasn't in the mood to share my weaknesses with a pesky hero I suddenly had to babysit," Slade grunted. The tone in his voice wasn't as harsh as his words, however, and Robin chuckled.

"I've caused you loads of trouble lately, haven't I?"

"I've contemplated just kicking you out in the snow once or twice, yes," the man claimed. "But I think you gave me something I needed. A human connection."

"Someone you actually could save?"

"Possibly. Which is why you getting sick, on top of hurt, was like the powers that be decided to kick me in the balls."

"Felt like they hit me in the process too," the teen muttered.

"It's going to get better from now on. You'll soon be back to being a pesky hero again."

"I don't know… are you going to go back to being a pesky villain?" Robin asked, being more serious than he let on.

"I was never really your enemy, remember?" the man said.

"Huh? Oh, yeah… Bruce… I had almost forgotten…"

"The fever did some good I hear."

"Shut up. Now I'm pissed at both of you again."

"I don't mind you being angry at Wayne, just remember that I was just doing my job," Slade claimed, obviously trying to sound innocent.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Robin snorted sarcastically. "Innocent as a new born baby bunny."

"That's me, alright," the man deadpanned, making the teen snicker. He was stopped when the man kissed him. "We'd better go to sleep," Slade said as they parted.

Robin understood that there was a 'before we go too far', hanging in the air, and though he was still very interested in doing that, he could also feel how tired he was. He cursed his illness for the millionth time, although for a completely new reason, and then settled against the man's arm. He thought it would be difficult to fall asleep because of the new situation, but instead he just felt calmer and safer than ever and drifted off with a smile on his lips.

He slept through the night and when he woke up, he was still using the man's arm as a pillow and he had an arm thrown over him. It was a bit of a shock until he remembered what had happened yesterday. When he did, he grinned to himself and snuggled closer. Slade seemed to still be sleeping, but stirred slightly when Robin moved.

"Morning," the teen said softly.

The man grunted something in reply, seemingly not quite ready to wake up, so Robin slipped out of bed and went to answer the call of nature. When he came back, Slade was awake, but still in bed, looking pleased to see him. Robin smiled and joined him, boldly kissing him as he did.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked.

"Really well," the young hero replied after a moment's consideration. One of his hands was resting on the man's chest and now travelled down across his stomach. Slade's hand caught his wrist when Robin's fingers had just slid under the waistband of his underwear.

"You're not that well," the man told him.

"Let me be the judge of that," Robin grinned.

"Yes, your judgement has been excellent lately," the man drawled, but let the teen's hand go. "Besides… are you sure you want to take this further?"

"Why would I regret it?" the teen asked guardedly.

"Depends on what you expect to come out of this."

"Out of this?" Robin said, pointing to the man's groin. "Cum, hopefully?"

"Cute."

"More like gooey, but sure."

"You know what I mean. You asked yesterday if I was going to go back to being a 'pesky villain', so you're obviously at least considering the future…"

"All I want is a promise that you won't fight me or my team again. That we won't go back to that kind of dynamic. I also would rather know right now if you intend to just vanish after this. If this is a purely here-and-now thing for you, I could be okay with that, as long as you are honest about it… okay?" Robin asked.

"I'm not going to fight you again. As a villain. I might kick your ass for pure entertainment, though…" Slade said.

"And… the rest?"

"I make no promises."

"So… should we decide that this is just a here-and-now thing, then?" Robin asked. He was a bit disappointed, but it would also make things easier.

Slade just looked at him for several moments, and Robin, who now could see a range of emotions on a face that others might describe as immobile, just waited it out.

"They won't like it," Slade eventually said.

"The Titans?"

"All of them. Not only the fact that I'm no hero, but the age difference as well…"

"Yeah… you're right. You seem like the person who really cares what others think…" Robin drawled.

"No, but you do. You'd have to fight for me, and it might tear your current relationships apart. You'd resent me for that in the end."

"Wow, you've really thought about this, huh?" Robin asked.

"For several seconds," Slade said dryly, like it was a very long time, which, considering who he was, it probably was. "I couldn't think of a single scenario where this would go smoothly. And I am noticing your hand, by the way."

Robin smirked and stopped his hand's sneaky decent. "Darn. Ok, so… Let's have our fun and then go our separate ways?"

"Probably for the best. Just one problem with that…" Slade said.

"Which is…?" Robin asked and then yelped as the man suddenly was on top of him.

"You're mine."

Robin burst out in a delighted laugh. "I'm not arguing with that." He wound his arms around the man's neck.

"You'd better not," the man growled with a twinkle in his eye and kissed him. "Breakfast?" he then added and sat up.

"What? Nooo! But-"

"You're still recovering."

"What if I just lay here…? How taxing could that be?"

"Not very, perhaps, but you'd be a lousy fuck," the man smirked at him and stood, thus crushing the teen's hopes that he could be persuaded.

"Cruel bastard," Robin muttered as he sat up himself. He took some solace in the fact that the bulge in the man's underwear was quite filled out, so at least he had wanted to go further. He was just too damn considerate. Robin let out a short laugh. It wasn't long ago that that kind of thought about Slade would have been very alien…

Half an hour later, Slade sighed.

"Robin…" he said, exasperatedly.

"What?" the teen asked from across the small table, looking very innocent.

"Keep your feet to yourself."

Robin snorted and withdrew his foot from where it had slowly caressed its way up the man's inner thigh.

"You're no fun."

"I'm lots of fun, it's just that you can't handle that level of fun right now," Slade told him.

"Prove it," Robin smirked.

"Very well."

"Really?"

"Let's go for a walk."

"That's not what I was hoping for," the teen muttered.

"Well, that's what you're getting," the man told him with a chuckle. "If you can handle that… then we'll see."

Robin decided to prove that he could handle anything, but the short walk did take a lot out of him.

"What? Not going to flirt?" Slade said when they came back and the teen was resting in front of the fire.

"In a bit…" Robin grunted, and the man laughed at him.

"I have to say… you held up better than I thought…" he then said, with a contemplating leer which made the teen's pulse quicken in anticipation. The man merely left, however, saying he needed to check on the water heater. Robin didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved. He wanted to be with the man, but now, as Slade seemed to be coming around, he got nervous. He knew he had been 'safe' before, and that had emboldened him. He didn't get more time to ponder the issue, because Slade interrupted his thoughts.

"There's plenty of hot water, care to join me for a shower?"

Robin could feel his face turn red in an instant, it was damn near painful. He opened his mouth to answer, but he struggled to find one. Slade leered at him again and came up to him, pulling him to his feet.

"Shy, Robin? That's sweet. Let's work on that, shall we?"

The teen's brain was still on holiday as he let himself be led into the bathroom. The shower cubicle was on the somewhat bigger side, so Slade could be comfortable in there, but with the two of them, the teen figured there wouldn't be much room. Not that they were in it yet. They were at the undressing stage, and Slade was very generously helping the still somewhat shell-shocked teen. The man pulled Robin's sweater off and then bent down and kissed his neck, something that kickstarted the young hero's brain back into gear. The answer, it decided, was 'yes'. He tugged at the man's t-shirt, but wasn't tall enough to pull it off him, of course. Slade understood the gesture, though, and went along with it. The teen was still nervous and shyly looked up at the man before leaning forwards and kissing his chest, just over his heart. It was a rush being allowed to do that, and after that it all became a blur. Robin remembered fervent kissing and groping. He remembered hot water and soap. Being carried to the bedroom, his legs wrapped around the man, still kissing him.

"You sure?" were the only real words spoken. The teen answered that question by pulling the man tighter to him. It was his first time, but he trusted him and he couldn't imagine anyone he'd rather share this moment with. Slade could be a cold hearted, grumpy bastard at times, but he was also the man who had saved his life, who had taken care of him while sick, who had brought him hot chocolate… Robin had to pause for a moment to wonder if he was giving himself a bit cheaply when it came to the last thing, but no. Slade bringing him hot chocolate meant so much more than if a… well… a more normal person would do it. For the mercenary it was a huge gesture, and Robin knew to appreciate it to the fullest.

He had heard that first times tended to be a bit bad, because of nerves and inexperience, but he sure as hell didn't have anything to complain about. He wasn't sure he'd survive if it somehow got even better. He shared that thought with the man, as they were resting together, and Slade chuckled.

"Well, thank you."

"You don't have to look so smug," the teen snickered.

"According to you, I have cause to be," the man replied. Robin was going to answer that when there was a sound.

"Is that the phone?" he asked, as Slade grunted out a curse, disentangled himself from his lover, and got up.

The man crossed the room, treating the teen to a nice view, and picked up his phone from a small table.

"Yes?" he replied, gruffly. "Oh." Slade looked over at Robin, who instantly got a feeling that it was bad news of some kind. "Yes. I'll let him know." A few more words were exchanged and then Slade hung up.

"What is it?" Robin asked worriedly.

"Your friends have all been fully vaccinated and will be back in the tower tomorrow," Slade told him, a bit curtly. "I expect you'll… want to go back?"

Robin thought about it for a moment. He desperately wanted to see his friends again, of course, but… "Don't you think I need a bit more time…? To recuperate?" he asked.

"Before fighting crime again, certainly. Maybe months. But you can still do that in Jump."

"I'm comfortable here," Robin grinned and stretched out on his back. A small grin played on Slade's lips at that. "I think I should stay for at least another week or two."

"I thought you'd be eager to go back…" the man told him.

"With the great service I'm receiving here?" the teen deadpanned innocently.

"Ah, well. I'm afraid the freeloading is over…" Slade jokingly growled and stalked over to the bed. A moment later, the man was on top of him. "From now on, you'll be paying with your body."

"You cruel man!" the teen exclaimed in feigned shock.

"Oh, you have no idea…" the mercenary leered.

"Are you trying to scare me away?" the teen asked and then leered himself and wrapped his legs around the man. "Because you might as well give up now."

The End.

A/N: let me know if you enjoyed… maybe it was a bit all over the place as it was started so log ago, but I hope it was a nice enough break from the real world, at least… be careful out there!