Lance blocked Rose's punch, but was kicked in the shin by Grant. Rose then started to pummel Lance in the face. He growled with each hit, but thankfully he wasn't about to rage out. Rose stopped punching, and shook her hand.
"Fuck. It's like punching a damn wall." She whispers. Grant just chuckles as he reaches out a hand to Lance. The former Robin takes the helping hand, and stands on his feet.
"He's got almost as much durability as dad has. It's rather impressive." Grant says, and Lance smiles at the praise. Rose scoffs though.
"I'm pretty sure he's always had a hard head." Lance's smile turns to a sharp grin, and he quickly shoulder checks Grant, knocking the older man back, and then grabs Rose and throws her a few yards away. Grant laughs as he finds his footing.
"I'm pretty sure that you're about as strong as dad though. Nice throw." He and Lance shake hands. Lance then goes over to Rose, and begrudgingly gives her a hand. She pointedly ignores it, and stands up on her own.
"I hate you." She breaths out. Lance puts a hand on his heart.
"Aww Rosie, I thought we were bonding! You didn't even try to stab me yesterday." Lance says, and Rose rolls her eyes.
"I'm not going to waste perfectly good knives on you. Fucking asshole." She breaths out. Lance just laughs. Grant walks up to the two, shaking his head.
"Dinner's in an hour. Let's all get cleaned up for today ok?" Lance nodded, as Rose took off for the house. The younger teen just chuckles as he turns to Grant.
"Honestly I think I enjoy pissing her off so much that I barely get angry." Lance says to Grant. The young man snorts.
"Still, we've only been at this a few days. Best to just keep going and see how this all plays out." Lance has to agree. Especially since he almost scowled at Grant. Yeah... It's going to take time. A lot of time.
Lance heads inside and decides to take a quick shower. He's sweaty and tired, and overall just... Exhausted. He tries to not think about his dad Bruce. Or Barbara. He knows Dick and Jason would be happy to know he's alive, but he also knows that he'd have to convince Slade to tell them.
After all, he's still violate.
Everytime someone says anything remotely resembling an insult his way, he's gotten extremely pissed. He hasn't lost control of himself since the first day he got here though, and he's grateful for that. But he's been close a few times already. Weirdly enough, the insults Rose throw at him have the opposite effect; He's glad to throw it right back in her face. Lance wasn't joking when he told Grant that he was more than happy to put up with Rose's shit.
The water feels good against his skin, knocking him out of his thoughts. He scrubs his body, but as he passes over the remaining scars he has... He has to force himself to take a deep breath. He's not in Arkham. The Joker is on the other side of the planet. He's safe. He's fine.
The few scars the Mirakuru didn't heal were the worst ones he had suffered. Aside from a few stab and burn wounds, were mainly, three of Joker's favorites. Because of course those wouldn't get all the way healed.
Hahaha!; it's across his stomach, his belly button acting as the bottom for the exclamation point.
Uncle J was here!; It's directly across his upper chest.
And finally, the large J carved into the side of his face. Everytime he looks into a mirror, he's back there. In that room. In that chair. The fucking clown laughing it up. It makes him sick. Logically, he knows he's safe. He does. But emotionally... His body and brain are fighting against him. On top of the Mirakuru influencing his emotions? He doesn't know how he's going to deal with this.
A loud knock is heard, and he nearly jumps.
"Asshole! Get the fuck out of the shower and quit using up all the fucking water!" Rose yells. He's unsure of how long he's been in here, but he sighs and turns the water off.
"Sorry! I forgot that you need as good a shower as you can get!" He yells back. A loud, frustrated growl is heard as Rose stomps off. Lance almost laughs.
Messing with her is fun.
(...)
His eyes open to a familiar sight. One that makes him thrash around immediately, only to be stopped by ropes and cuffs. Another sensation he's far too used to. He struggles for a few brief moments before laughter pierces the air around him.
The door to the room is pushed open by the Joker.
"Ah Robbie! So glad you could come back!" The Joker says, as he walks over and pinches Lance's cheek.
"Oh I missed you so much!" He says in a disgustingly "cute" voice, before he smacks Lance hard across the face. The clown laughs again.
"I think it's time we went back to an oldie, but a goodie!" The Joker pulls out a knife from his pocket, and Lance starts to struggle again. The Joker laughs as the blade cuts into his skin.
Lance screams.
(...)
"Kid! Lance wake up!" He comes to with strong hands on his shoulders. Lance almost reacts, but thankfully stops himself at the last second. He doesn't want to hurt Slade.
Then again, the man's called the Terminator for a reason. He could handle it.
Lance groans, as he rubs his face. There's a few tears. Lance nearly scowls at the offending liquid. Slade pulls his hand away slowly.
"That's five times in three days you've been screaming in your sleep." Slade says softly. Lance nearly wants to growl at him for the way his voice sounds. Lance isn't weak. He can take it.
"If you want to talk Lance, I'm-" Lance pushes Slade off of his shoulders.
"I'm fine Slade. Alright? I... Am fucking fine." Lance doesn't even believe the words that leave his mouth. Slade though, at least pretends that Lance is going to be ok. He sighs, but walks over to the door of his room. Slade turns back to Lance.
"You'll be alright kid. I promise." He says, as he leaves the room. Lance scoffs. Wasn't Slade the one who said he'd never be alright again?
He might be right...
(...)
When he awakes, Lance is surprised to not be dragged out of bed by Slade at ass o'clock in the fucking morning. He double checks the time on the burner phone Slade gave him.
6:33 AM.
Huh... Breakfest should be ready soon. Groggily, Lance makes his way out of bed and changes into a black t-shirt and baggy shorts. And no Slade, he won't change into anything else when they start training, thank you very much.
He stalks his way down into the kitchen, but is surprised when he doesn't smell anything. He's even more surprised when he finds the kitchen completely empty. Lance frowns. He briefly ponders going into Slade's room, but then his eyes widened, and he face palms.
Situational awareness is a bitch and a half to try to develop.
Case in point, when he checked the time, he saw that he had a text. But, his tired ass brain ignored it. Lance would bet everything he has that the text was from Slade. He digs in his pocket for his phone, and when he clicks on the message, he grins. He was right! Does that mean everything he owns is now his? Hopefully. It's his after all.
Going out for a mission. Might be gone a few weeks. Grant is coming with me and Joey is heading to the Tower for a week or two. Try to not kill Rose.
Lance groaned loudly. Of course the devil herself is the first person he's left alone with. Lance debates going back up to bed and just sleeping until Slade and Grant's mission was over, or Joey got back. Whichever happened first, he didn't care. But, the naive, hopeful part of him that never died, said that maybe he could get along with the demon sleeping in the house. So Lance was going to do what he does best. Well, second best.
(...)
Rose woke up peacefully for once. Her dad didn't pull her ass out of bed, and neither Grant or Joey were being loud dumbasses.
...
She was in a hostile situation, wasn't she? Rose quickly scanned her room. It was normal, everything in place... But that didn't mean she was safe. It could easily be an illusion of some kind. She smacks herself across the face.
Ok. No illusion or hallucination. Probably.
As several more ideas and plans run through her head, she notices her phone is blinking. A notification. She grabs it and sees that she's got a few pointless social media updates, a text from Raven (she pointedly ignores it) and a text from her dad.
Hey sweetie. Me and Grant have a contract. Might be gone a few weeks. Joey also left to go back to the Tower for a bit. Lance and you are alone, so please try to not kill each other. For me?
Rose felt an eye twitch. Fucking hell.
I make no promises. Love you. Be safe.
She gets up off her bed, and stretches. Light ones, but they're good enough to get her through the day. Provided she doesn't murder Asshole. She can feel her eyes twitching again, and decides to just get dressed. As she slips on a white blouse and a pair of black shorts, her stomach grumbles. Great. She's hungry. Maybe she can make pancakes? She almost burnt down the kitchen with waffles, so she's eager to not make that mistake again.
She opens her door and starts to head towards the kitchen, when she freezes. She can smell food. And the kitchen light is on. She slowly stalks over to the door, and quietly opens it up. (Well, as quietly as it can be opened up anyway. Slade made sure a long time ago that no door or floorboard was silent. Said that intruders would be easily caught and dealt with.)
She narrows her eyes at Asshole cooking up a near full course breakfest bonanza.
Bonanza?
She shakes her head, and then coughs. Asshole turns around, and fucking smiles at her. She scowls.
"What are you doing?" She asks, Asshole blinks.
"Fixing breakfest. I've got eggs, sausage, hashbrowns and pancakes." He says, and then chuckles.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" She shoots him a glare.
"Fucking up the kitchen." His face twitches, in that same, annoying way, and then he snorts.
"Well I guess if I'm fucking up the kitchen, I may as well have all the food I cooked for myself." He says smugly, and then puts a hand over his heart.
"And to think I cooked this for us both out of the kindness of my heart." Rose practically growls and sits at the table.
"I'm not thanking you. And if it tastes like shit, I'm reserving the right to stab your ass." The asshole smiles devilishly as he fixes up two plates, and sits down on the opposite side away from her.
Good.
She picks up a fork and rips into the eggs.
...
Fucking hell, why does this taste so mother fucking good?
(...)
Lance watched in awe, and only slight surprise as Rose absolutely devoured the food on her plate. She was done in less than five minutes; Maybe even faster. He grinned at her.
"Well that's probably the best compliment I've ever gotten." Rose scowls at him, though it's more subdued than normal.
"You can cook. Fucking congratulations. Do you want a trophy or a medal?" Lance huffs.
"I mean, you could just say thank-"
"Fuck you." Lance's face turns up in disgust.
"I'd rather not. You're pretty, but I do have standards." The look of rage on her face just made Lance smile more. Rose hit the table hard, and then stood up quickly.
"I'll be in my room. Don't bother me unless the house is burning down." She starts to walk off, but Lance chews his lips. This isn't getting better. He needs to think of something...
"Hey Rose, want to learn how to cook?" He blurts out, and nearly facepalmed. Rose turns around slowly, and stares him directly in the eyes. After several seconds of silence, he gulps.
"I mean, you can say no." He says, and Roae finally scoffs.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She asks. Lance just laughs. Though there's no humor behind it.
"A lot Rosie... But that's not important. I figured I'm gonna be here a while, I may as well try to get along with you." Rose grins.
"And teaching me to cook will make us stop hating each other?" Lance shrugs.
"I mean it's the best idea I got." His eyes then widen.
"Wait, do you know how to cook already?" Clearly not, by the way that her grin faded. Rose's face scrunched up in thought. She was having an inner battle with herself. Finally, after far too long of a debate, she smiles.
A sickingly sweet, devious smile.
"Tell you what. You want a bonding experience? Ok. You teach me to cook, and I teach you to shoot." Lance whistles.
"You're still like, the third best crackshot in the world right?" Rose folded her arms, her smile still present.
"I can shoot just as good as my father now. Only Lawton is a better shot." Lance raised an eyebrow at that, but he figured he'd let it slide for now.
Honestly? He's wanted to learn how to fire a gun for a long time. Dick got to use them on the force, and Lance has really wanted to learn how to use one. But his dad Bruce hated guns. He'd be furious. Lance smiles, and Rose frowns.
"I'm in. I'd love to use a glock and bust a cap in someone's ass." Rose snorts.
"Didn't think you'd want to disappoint daddy dearest-" Lance practically growls. Rose tenses up slightly. After a few moments, Lance recollects himself.
"... When we doing this?" He asks. Rose stares at him for a few moments longer, before she sighs.
"Meet me out in the range in ten."
(...)
Lance was careful as he stalked out into the yard and towards the firing range. It was a simple setup. A few different targets at varying distances away from the starting line. Rose was standing beside the line, arranging the guns nearby in ways that didn't make sense to Lance. But, he'd figure it out eventually. He walks up next to her and eyes the guns on the table. He doesn't know much about official names. There's the standard stuff, like a few Glocks and a Remington, as well as an M16. But there's more on the large table that he really doesn't know what they are called.
Rose nudges his shoulder.
"Pick something Asshole. I'll teach you how to shoot it until dinner." Lance quickly turns his head.
"Wait what?" He asks. She smiles evilly again.
"I don't half ass things idiot. Choose something now before I make the choice for you." She says, and Lance huffs as he looks back at the guns. Since he's never fired anything before in his life, all the advanced firearms are out of the question. Sure, he knows he could handle the recoil with his enhanced strength, but there's still the fact that he really shouldn't jump in the deep end and hope for the best.
So, handguns or revolers it is. He grabs a gun at random, and presents it to his teacher.
"I'll take this." Rose smiles. An actual one. Or at least as close it she can get to one.
"The Berreta M9. Most used handgun on the planet. A nice choice." She says, and takes the gun from him. She moves a few feet away, and Lance follows.
"Keep your feet grounded, like this," She plants her feet firmly on the ground.
"Next, keep the gun gripped like this, and never put your finger on the trigger unless you're ready and willing to fire." Lance nods along as he notes the way the gun is held in her hand. She raises her arms slightly, and looks down the sight of the gun.
"Never close an eye. Only amateurs do that." She says, her voice now focused.
"Finally, squeeze, don't pull." A few loud bangs go off, and the target that's the furthest away has three shots in it, all directly in a line. She then turns and hands the gun to Lance.
"Now you try." The former Robin grits his teeth and takes her spot, mimicking her movements. He takes a few deep breaths, before aiming at the nearest target.
"Normally, you'd want to aim lower than what you're shooting at, but the recoil from the Berreta won't effect you much, if at all." Lance nods, not turning his head away from the target.
And he fires four shots.
Now, Rose's target was a good hundred feet away. Lance's was only twenty five. He manages to hit the shoulder of the target twice. The other two bullets went past it. He did aim too high. He turns to face Rose. She has a grin on her face.
"Not bad. You were aiming for the shoulder right?" Lance snorts.
"I hit it twice and missed twice. That's a fifty percent success rate." He says, and Rose's grin remains.
"Still not bad for the first time. We'll keep trying." She says, grabbing some more ammo from the table. Her grin turns fierce.
"We're gonna be here for a few hours. I hope you've got the time." Lance smiles right back at her.
"Pretty sure my schedule is free." Rose laughs.
"Shut up Asshole." She says, and then nods her head towards the targets.
"Again."
(...)
By the time Lance walked back inside the house with Rose, it was pitch black. She wanted him to fire for a while in the dark to get used to being able to see less. He did worse than before, but apparently he still wasn't bad for a beginner.
"For the next few days, we can try stationary targets, and then head down the road to our main training area for moving targets." Lance nodded as the two walked into the house. He headed straight for the kitchen to make a pizza. Him, and to a lesser extent Rose, were pretty tired and cooking lessons could come another day. Maybe he'd teach her breakfest tomorrow? He wasn't sure.
As the oven was heating up, Lance glances over at the microwave and sees his reflection. He sees the J on his cheek. He didn't know how bad it was before, but if it was still this visible... He almost punches the glass. It takes everything he has to stop himself. A firm hand grabs him by the shoulder.
"You ok?" Rose asks, the concern in her voice minimal. Lance just turns back to look at his face in the glass. Rose follows his gaze.
"That's an easy fix with some concealer and some other stuff." She says off handedly, and walks away. Lance turns to look at her.
"Really?" He asks, and he hates the hope he has in his voice. Lance would rather never look at his face again if he couldn't fix it. Rose turns around and softly smirks at him.
"Sure, why not? I'll fix it for you. Teach you how to do it too." Lance snorts.
"Awesome. Afterwards we can paint each others nails and talk about boys." He and Rose both laugh, but it's quickly cut off by the oven. Lance shoves the pizza into the stove, and takes a seat at the table.
"Twenty minutes and we eat." Rose chuckles as she sits down across from him.
"Pizza is easy. Even Joey can cook pizza." Lance just rolls his eyes, but there's no heat behind it.
"I'll teach you something simple for breakfest tomorrow to gauge your ability." Rose shakes her head, and laid it in her hands.
"I can't believe I'm getting along with the Asshole." She says amazed. Lance just laughs.
"You're not that bad either Rosie. And you're a hell of a teacher." She looks up at him, her eyes slightly wide.
"Really?" Lance furrows his brows.
"Don't you and Grant teach the other Titans? I'm not surprised you're good at it." He says matter of factly. Rose just stares at him. A weird look in her eyes.
"... Thanks Lance." Rose mutters softly. Lance is smart. (This he's known for a while.) So he can understand there's a story here somewhere. He's going to leave it be. But he won't lie, he's curious...
(...)
Shortly after they both eat pizza, they went their separate ways for a bit. Lance took the time to browse his phone. There was still no texts or missed calls, but he was pretty sure only four people knew he was alive. Maybe five if the Joker... He shakes his head. No need to think of that fucking clown. It's not long before Rose takes Lance up to her room. He gets a brief look at the place before she goes into her bathroom and has Lance sit on the toilet as she takes out her makeup supplies. She slowly explains how the makeup can work to cover bruises and the like, and once she's done with that, she starts to apply the makeup. Lance just sits still, letting her words soak in.
"Generally speaking, certain colors work better to hide different types of brusies. With scars, it can be harder, but not impossible to hide those." Rose then tilts her head.
"Unless people know what to look for. Then they can fucking see this is covered up a mile away." Lance nods, staying silent for a bit. His eyes wonder down to Rose's fingers. Her nails are painted. They're pink, a contrast to her hair, and yet it works well with her eyes. Huh...
"-And in some cases, you're going to want to... Hey you better be listening!" Rose says, smacking him on the head. It didn't hurt much besides his pride.
"Ow." He says lamely, and then sheepishly smiles.
"Sorry about that. Your nails are distracting." Rose frowns, looking down to her hands. She narrows her eyes once she looks back up to him.
"Are you fucking with me?" Lance just laughs. He sighs once he's finished.
"What color do you think will go well with mine?" He asks. Rose stares at him for a few seconds. She then blinks. And then grins.
"So we're really going to do this whole thing huh?"
(...)
They did not talk about boys. Rose hated almost everyone and Lance was pretty sure he was straight. Still, it was fun to get his nails painted. She chose dark green. A nice mix of his blond hair and blue eyes. It was a nice night. So much so, that when he turned in for bed, he thought it'd be peaceful.
It wasn't.
(...)
Rose awoke to screaming. She shot out of bed and immediately became aware that she herself was safe. Lance was the one yelling. She's also sure that no one triggered the numerous alarms they had all around the house and the area. She sighs as she gets out of bed, and heads for his room. His screams get more urgent as she opens the door.
"Hey Asshole! Lance!" She yells a good few feet away from the bed. Which was a good move, because as soon as Lance woke up, he punched the air right by him. He breaths heavily for a few minutes as he calms himself down. Rose bites her bottom lip. She walks over to him.
"You good now?" She asks, and Lance chokes out a snort.
"Yeah yeah... I've never been better." She can see that haunted look in his eyes. Even from here in the dark. She remembered having nights like these. And only one thing ever scared the dreams off. Kept the nightmares at bay. She sighed heavily.
"Get up Asshole." She says, as she walks to the door.
"What?" Lance asks as he slowly gets out of bed. Rose turns around and glares at him.
"If we're going to do the sleepover experience, we may as well do it right." She says, as she grabs his hand and drags him back into her room. She flips the blankets back up and sits him down.
"I'll... I'll say this again... What?" He's confused now, and that look is almost adorable. She laughs.
"I'm the big spoon. Also if you touch above or below my stomach, I'm cutting your fingers off." She yanks him down with her under the covers, and cuddles - fucking cuddles - with the Asshole. Lance doesn't say another word. Though, Rose is pretty sure he almost cries.
Weirdo.