AN: I've had a shitty night. I mean, probably not as shitty as Slade and Robin's, but still pretty shitty.
The night grew cold some time after the last of the sunrays danced over the waves. Robin was surprised to find that one of the sleeping bags Slade had brought with him was actually a tent. And it was the tiniest damn tent he'd ever seen.
"What the fuck is that?" Robin asked as Slade unrolled and popped the tension bars into place.
"I assumed you know a tent when you saw it, circus star."
"It looks like a coffin."
"It's a Bivy tent."
Robin frowned, looking down at the strange little structure and debating with himself if he should ask the next question.
"Does your coffin-tent have the same name as a toilet euphemism?" he asked with a furrowed brow.
"That's biffy. And biffy is a euphemism for outhouse, not a modern toilet. In either case, if you shit in my tent, it will be your coffin."
"Well, I'm glad we cleared that up," the teen's voice mocked relief as Slade began to kick off his boots. "I don't think we'll both fit," he said, eyeing Slade's body and the small interior space.
"It's a two-person tent. We'll fit," Slade said as he began to undo his belt. "We'll keep the weapons in my bag. Guns'll stay dry enough in there, and I won't have you ripping holes in the tent with the knives. You can keep your bostaff if you need something to cuddle with."
Robin felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck as he watched Slade pull the belt from the loops until the black leather slid entirely free and he coiled it around his large hand. His eyes flickered up to the man's face and saw that he expected some sort of response.
"Are you really concerned that I'll ruin the tent, or just afraid that I'll shoot you while you're sleeping?" He hesitantly pulled his weapons free and placed them inside the bag, keeping a close eye on its location.
Slade let out a small chuckle as he tugged his shirt free and began to pull it over his head. "The tent, mostly. But I suppose I wouldn't put it past you to shoot me if I pissed you off enough."
"I don't think I'd even have to be that mad," Robin shrugged airily before he bent over to untie his boots and slide them off as well.
"Seeing as this is a special occasion, shall we celebrate with a few disinfectant wipes?"
"God, yes, please." Robin answered a bit quicker than he liked. Truth be told, he hadn't had an actual shower since… well, since he was on his own… He'd taken advantage of cold rain and spare water, when he could, but even things like baby wipes were a veritable gold-mine when found.
Slade handed him a few packets with a sly, almost-smile on his lips. The teen's reaction to the small luxury was almost comical as he cradled the packets in his hands and his expression softened. He tore open his own packet and went to work on cleaning the filth from his skin. He was certainly immune, but he needed to be careful not to expose the teen to infection – which meant cleaning off any slime, spit, and blood that the dead hurled on to him.
"Pardon," Slade muttered softly as he dropped his trousers and went to work on the nearly-healed wound, wiping down the faintly teeth-shaped marks.
Robin frowned at the wound as Slade wiped at the mess, his expression distant and pensive as he looked over the wound that should have been a gaping infected mess.
"They'dve loved to study you," he said finally.
"I'm sure you would have stepped in when they started cutting off slabs of flesh," the villain gave a half-smile, simply tossing the dirty cloth over the side of the building and grabbing another.
Robin gave a tiny huff and smirked before he went back to his own cleaning, "Nah… I'd have let them."
Slade gave a dark chuckle, saying nothing until their delegated wipes had been used up and the air became cold and biting. The hero gave a small shiver and crawled into the tent, nestling into the sleeping bag and giving Slade a speculative look.
"Coming or not?" he asked with a raised brow.
"I think I expected some sort of argument as to why I should sleep outside," the man replied with a shrug, his expression still showing doubt as he knelt and tucked his feet inside the bag.
"Too cold to argue," Robin shivered and turned on his side, facing the tent wall and blushing when he felt the man's body sliding next to him, skin brushing against skin until movement settled and heat rolled between the fabric to the hero's shivering body.
"Still cold?" Slade murmured as he zipped up the tiny tent sealing them both inside.
"I'm fine," Robin answered, voice flawlessly covering his unease. "Sorry if I kick you, or something… really not used to sleeping next to anyone."
"Since the outbreak, or before?" his was voice amused as he could practically sense the blush that covered the teen's body.
"I hope I'm smart enough to aim for your mouth when I lash out in my sleep."
"Considering the more vulnerable target you could aim for, I hope you do, too," Slade chuckled and closed his eye, resting his mind and his body as the city let out ambient murmurs of the dead that filled the streets below.
I don't care if it's only 9:00PM. I'm going the fuck to sleep.