A/N Another chapter! Yay! And Aguna has another one-shot up! Double yay! That is all.
Chapter Sixteen: Cough Syrup
Robin gave a soft sigh as he followed Slade down the hallway. This caused the man to look over his should in concern. Race had been present for nearly the whole time they had been in Africa, which was almost a week. It had been Race who had gotten to go on Slade's private safari, Race who had spent two whole days exploring the mansion of a hunting lodge, and Race who had sweet-talked Chipo, the cook, into baking him desserts 24/7. The only time Robin showed up was at night, and even then all he did was read, converse lightly with Slade, and sleep. Consequently, Slade hadn't gotten laid in almost a whole week. The assassin would've been grumpier if he hadn't been so full of concern.
"Where are we going?" The teen asked in a tired voice. Slade's frown deepened but he forced himself to smile when he turned to face the ex-hero.
"Wintergreen called earlier after his plane landed. He should arrive any moment now." The mercenary could have sighed in relief when his words had sparked some interest in the boy's blue eyes. Slade could only hope that what he was about to do would help Robin rather than hurt him. But that concern could wait until later, he had meet and greets to attend to at the current moment.
"Wintergreen!" The man cried jovially as they entered the grand foyer. Even after being there for almost a whole week the grandeur of Slade's "simple" hunting lodge still had yet to cease amazing the teen. Just now, as Robin hung back in the shadow of the hallway-not quite ready to meet his lover's old friend, the blue-eyed boy found himself distracted by the wooden walls and high pointed ceilings. Every room had a fire place that was lit at night to provide a soft glow rather than heat the place. It was summer after all. There was of course electricity in the lodge, as well as running water, but something about the artificial light just didn't feel right and candles were often used instead.
"Robin, are you coming?" Something about Slade's voice made the ex-hero's blood freeze in his veins. He didn't recognize that voice. The tone, the inflection, was all wrong. Slade sounded like a normal human, not the assassin Robin knew. Slowly it began to dawn of the teen that he truly didn't know the man he was in love with. After all those years of fighting Slade, being obsessed with Slade, and recently, being with Slade, the only thing that had come into the light about the villain's past was that he had had a wife named Addie who had shot him in the eye and his best friend's name was Wintergreen. Considering how old Robin thought he was, which was quite a bit older than he looked, that was nothing.
Suddenly Slade appeared in front of the teen, nearly giving him a heart attack. "Aren't you coming?" The man's face was uncharacteristically animated and Robin felt sick to his stomach. However the blue-eyed boy attempted to fake a smile and nod to the man whom he had fucked even though he didn't know his last name.
But Slade didn't miss a thing. To be fair, the man never did, but this time it was painfully obvious to him that there was something wrong with his little bird. Wide blue eyes were filled with panic and uncertainty, and Slade knew it wasn't just because he was about to meet Wintergreen. The man could sense that he needed to explain some things, but this was not the place and now was not the time. The man had a plan he needed to set into motion.
Slade grabbed Robin's hand and gave him an encouraging smile, which only seemed to make things worse for the teen. Pushing forward still, the villain led the pair out through the foyer and into the living room. There was Wintergreen, standing with his back to the couple, gazing into the fire.
The first thing Robin thought when the man turned around was old. Old! Unbelievably, wrinkly, gray-haired old! The blue-eyed boy felt faint. Sure, he'd always assumed that Slade was actually older than he appeared, but if he and this old man had been friends for a long time...
"Robin," Slade interrupted his train of thought, "This is Wintergreen." The teen reached forward on autopilot to shake the man's hand, becoming nauseous at the feel of his paper like skin shrunken around bony fingers. In all honesty, Wintergreen wasn't that old, but to Robin he looked like the crypt keeper.
"Slade and I met in the army." The man's British accent almost caused the ex-hero to jump out of his skin in surprise. "I was a few years older than him, seeing as the brat illegally enlisted at sixteen." Robin felt his knees go week as he tried to process the information he was receiving. It was just too much too soon. Slade seemed to notice this but tried to be nonchalant about it.
"Why don't we continue this in the dining room? I'll get Chipo to make us some tea."
"Jolly good!" Wintergreen exclaimed as he followed Slade. Robin would have laughed at the stereotype if he hadn't been so shell shocked. So instead he just walked behind the two older men and left the room.
Slade spoke with Chipo briefly in an African language that blew Robin's mind. The teen had barely managed to communicate with grandmotherly black woman when Race had convinced her to bake him sweets and here was the villain, conversing with her like he had been doing it all of his life. The blue-eyed boy sat down in one of the comfortable wooden chairs at the end of the huge table. Above him hung a gigantic chandelier made of animal horns. The ex-hero kept himself entertained by tracing the patterns in the wood table while Wintergreen, who sat across from him, studied his face. Robin could feel the man's eyes on him but couldn't bring himself to care.
"Our tea will be here shortly." Slade said, sitting down at the head of the table, in between Robin and Wintergreen. The man was all smiles but the teen didn't react.
"So, how have you been, old friend?" Robin blanched at the word "old" but otherwise didn't react.
"Good, great even, now that I have Robin." Slade smiled widely at the teen and blue eyes glanced up for a second.
"He's quite a catch." Wintergreen commented dryly and the ex-hero chuckled, suddenly reminded of Raven's sense of humor. The mercenary caught this and had to hide his excitement. Robin was coming back! At the same time Wintergreen noticed Slade's emotions and smiled to himself. "For some reason I'm reminded of you Terminator days."
"Ugh." Slade groaned ans Robin's head shot up. "Let's not talk about Deathstroke, shall we?"
"Wait...you were Deathstroke the Terminator?" The teen cried out, and the assassin merely nodded in reply. "Batman mentioned you! He said you worked both sides of the law, though mainly the bad side. Occasionally he would grumble about how you should be a good guy..." Robin, who had jumped up in surprise, slowly sank back down into his chair, stunned. The two men watched him with wary eyes, unsure of what was going to happen next. "Slade, what is your name?"
The man in question snorted, but then schooled his features, trying not to be mean for once. "My name is Slade."
"No, your real name."
"My name is Slade Wilson." Slade Wilson Slade Wilson Slade Wilson. It repeated in the teen's head like a mantra.
"What does the boy know about you?" Wintergreen asked, surprised at how little Robin understood.
"Well, he knew that I'm a villain," the man's friend gave him a despairing look at the obvious information but the assassin kept going. "He knew my name was Slade, he knew that I had a friend named Wintergreen, and he knew about my wife Addie.." Slade had started out sounding unsure and by the time he finished that tone in his voice had only grown. Wintergreen gave him a disapproving look.
"He didn't know about Deathstroke, nor you military days, nor the super-soldier serum, nor your two boys Joseph and Grant?" The two men locked eyes, one pair accusing, the other eye guilty, and had a stare off until a dull thud was heard. Both looked over to see Robin passes out on the floor, having fainted and fallen out of his chair.
"I guess we better get started." Slade commented dryly before picking up the teen and taking him down to the basement. Wintergreen just shook his head and thanked Chipo for the tea that she had just brought into the room. The ex-soldier took a sip before he went and retrieved the silver briefcase and headed to the stairs that led to the basement, tea in hand. He had a long couple of days ahead of him.
A/N Well, I'm about to wrap this story up! The end is in sight! At least for me. I don't know if I'll do a sequel, I'll just have to let it sit for a while once it's done before I decide. Also, Chipo is a traditional South-African name, or at least that's what the internet told me ^^ So review!