A/N: So, wow-fuck. It's been a long time. Some bad shit happened (we had to say goodbye to a wonderful friend and family member – a dog, but fuck you if you don't think that's family. My Grandma was in the hospital – still is, but she's healing up after her surgery. My Grandpa is an asshole – FYI that's not the reason she's is in the hospital- that's more so because he's incompetent, which has kind of caused the whole family to have to pitch in because: long story involving what a shit-show Alzheimer's is and that the care center would not accept her unless she had a family member with her at all times (we deserve a prize for not killing each other… yet). Yes. Things have kind of been a mess. BUT! There have been some great moments, also. I got in some good ugly cries (really, really ugly), bonded with some family over how crazy our family is, nerded up with my friends/family at an anime convention (so nerdy, so fun!), and BEST OF ALL, my sister (who most of you probably didn't know existed, or that she has been seriously ill) is OFFICIALLY IN REMISSION from a really terrible and rare auto-immune disease called Multi-Connective Tissue… fuck, I can never remember the name. Call it Lupus. It's not Lupus, but whatever, it's basically Lupus.
… That was a word-vomit… sorry…. Let's get to the story where we… have… actual vomit…
"What did you learn?" Slade asked as he kept a firm hand over the teen's shoulder as he leaned out of the open window, letting the rain plaster his black hair around his face, which was looking rather green at that moment.
"That I fuckin' hate yurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!"
"That's a funny way to pronounce 'Slade was right about drinking and I can't be trusted to make responsible decisions, which is why I'll listen to everything he says and obey without frivolous backtalk.'"
"Kalck!.. Ugh…" Robin coughed, trying to form a response that simply would not be confined to verbal conventions. He opted instead to lift a very specific finger and waive it clumsily above his head while simultaneously throwing up with the least graceful sounds he could possibly manage.
"Oh, yes, fuck me. I'd love that. I've never found you more attractive than at this moment."
"Sh… Shut up – you ass-houurrrrrrrgh!"
"Keep in mind that you're teetering outside a windowsill, shitfaced, sick, and annoying the shit out of me while I'm working through a hangover from hell – I will tolerate only two of these things at once, so I suggest you do what you can and shut up."
Robin didn't shut up. He didn't sober up. And he certainly didn't stop throwing up for hours. Slade, by that time, was considerably less hung over, yet no less pissed after spending those hours nursing a drunk-sick teen back to a semi-respectable level of sobriety. And semi-respectable was a generous label for it.
"Fucking…"a muttering pile of hero whispered against the floor.
"Drink," the man commanded as he forced a clear plastic bottle into the teen's hands. He received a glare in response, but Robin knew better than to argue at that point, Slade's voice could get very, very loud when he wanted it to, and everything seemed easily five times louder than it actually was.
"Fuck, my head hurts," Robin whispered against the bottle before taking a few long drinks, and groaning at the sensation of having anything in his stomach.
"How's your hand?" Slade asked, grabbing the hero's wrist and examining the tie looped around the palm. The blood surrounding the tie had dried, but the fabric itself was still moist. "God, you reek of booze."
"Well, s'cuse me, Slade, you don't exactly smell great either."
"Cold water will do you some good," the man said thoughtfully.
"I'm drinking it," Robin growled, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking another swig.
"I was talking about a shower. Come on, we're going on the roof."
"Noooooo," Robin moaned as Slade lifted him from the floor and slung him over his shoulder. "It's cold and raining."
"That's the idea," Slade said, "At least we have soap and towels now."
"Oh my god. I fucking love soap," he whispered, eyes widening as if he'd rediscovered something amazing and sacred.
"I'm sure you do. You fucking love everything… Except when you fucking hate everything," Slade muttered as he made a quick stop in the bathroom, swinging around and backing into the shower. "Grab the stuff."
Robin, amazingly, did just that, and without the additional annoying or scathing commentary that usually accompanied the hero's drunk banter. That didn't last long at all, however, because as soon as they made it to the roof, via the closet-portal – or fucking closet portal, as Robin had named it during one of his colorful vomit sessions– their naked bodies were being pelted by cold rain.
"Holy fucking shit, it's freez-ohmygod this shampoo smells fucking amazing!" the teen chattered incessantly as Slade lathered a bar of soap in his hands and gave serious consideration to washing out his companion's mouth with it. "I seriously don't even care that I'm going to die of hypothermia and hangover, this is the best shower I've ever had."
Slade made a short sound of acknowledgement scrubbing his face before lifting it to the sky and letting the rain wash away the grime and suds. At least the brat wonder wasn't lying. The makeshift shower did feel amazing. If only the rain could drown out the teen's chatter.
"Oh my god, this is better than seeeex," the teen moaned and proceeded to rub the shampoo residue down his back with his uninjured hand. "Seriously, I would get a boner if it wasn't so fucking cold."
Five more minutes of the hero's chatter, and the man had had enough.
"Shut up and let me see your hand," Slade gruffly commanded as he grabbed the teen's wrist and tugged at the tie that was wrapped around it.
Robin growled in response, but let the man unwind the fabric until a fresh gush of blood began to drip from the wound. Slade carefully pressed his thumb against the lacerated skin, frowning when his companion let out a hiss of pain and tried to pull away.
"Sharp, stinging pain?"
"No, that felt great," Robin growled. "The fuck do you think?"
"I think you have glass shards embedded in your palm. That wound won't heal right unless we get them out."
"Right, and?"
"I'll be right back."
"What? Why – where are you going?"
"To get a knife from the kitchen," Slade answered simply as he disappeared into the void of fucking closet portal.
Robin scampered to the hole and yelled down into the apartment, "Don't I get a say in this?"
"Say whatever you want," Slade called back from the kitchen.
"How about no?" the teen grabbed his throbbing forehead rubbed it vigorously. The cold water had helped to douse the pain in his head, but not while he hung his head and shouted.
"You think that will stop me?" Slade asked almost incredulously as he appeared back in the tiny space and motioned for the teen to get out of the way.
"No, but I damn well will!" Robin replied as viciously as his hushed voice would allow.
"Good luck with that," the villain slipped the knife carefully into his mouth, biting down on the metal before leaping against the walls of the closet and propelling himself to the rooftop, nearly colliding with the teen's face in the process, but thankfully the hero had been smart enough to move out of the way before that occurred. "You can make this easy, or hard. It's your choice, but I'd be more than happy to drug you if it'd shut you up at this point."
"Come on, Slade. I'm hung-over as fuck. Everything hurts and now you want to stab my hand with a fillet knife?"
"It's a practical choice - Lightweight, thin blade…"
"It's a knife, and you're a fucking psychopath. I don't want you digging around in there."
"You're stalling," Slade said curtly as he held the knife in his hand and motioned for the teen to come close. "You know this has to happen or the wound won't heal properly."
"You could have at least done it while I was still drunk!" the teen complained.
"Right, like when you were hanging outside the window?"
"You could have at least saved some of the bourbon to take the edge off!"
"I drank it so that you-" Slade paused for a moment, and calmly reminded himself not to stab the teen, no matter how annoying he found him at the time. "We don't have time for this. I want that glass out of your hand while we've still got the rain to our advantage. Let me treat this wound – without complaints - or criticism – and I'll..." he seemed to think for a moment, reaching for anything of value that had not already been deemed joint property. "I'll… give you a blowjob."
Robin seemed dumbstruck for a moment, his expression baffled before he crudely answered, "do you even know how?"
"Can you find a better option in this city?" the villain quipped. "Besides, it's what you always wanted, isn't it? Me on my knees before you… compliant… humbled."
Robin looked the man over suspiciously and weighed his options. Luckily Slade was there to supply him with non-biased advice.
"It's going to happen one way or another, but this is the only option where you aren't tied up."
"You're not going to bite me, are you?" the hero's eyes narrowed.
"Christ, boy! Just how evil do you think I am?" Slade looked affronted for a moment, and then remembered his laundry list of assaults against the teen and his team. "Don't answer that," he quickly amended. No, of course I won't bite you. It's bad enough that you'll be in my mouth, I don't want your skin stuck between my teeth."
"Wow, that's a visual I really don't want."
"Likewise."
"Alright… I'll agree, but I get to call the shots – and if you are shit at the job, I'll damn well tell you about it, and you'll have to do it again until I'm satisfied with your skills."
Slade considered his options for a moment, but didn't give himself much time to dwell on the particulars for fear that either one of them would back out and prolong the process. "Alright. Deal," he nodded and extended his hand, palm turned upward as he waited expectantly for the teen to place his hand inside it. Robin glared cautiously in response, holding out the injured hand and watching as the villain grasped it at the wrist. "This will be painful," the man murmured.
"No shit."
"Was that a complaint I heard?" Slade asked, clenching the teen's wrist under his thumb to stunt the flow of blood. "Because now that I've got the bird in the hand, I don't care if I lose the blowjob."
"It wasn't," the hero quickly corrected himself and immediately bit his tongue as the thin blade plunged into his skin and quickly flicked out a small shard of glass. It was painful, and it was only the beginning.
"That's one…" Slade murmured again, feeling around the open puffy wound until the hero tensed as he pressed against one of the embedded shards. Once found, he tried to let the rain carry away the blood in the hopes that he could see the tiny piece, but it was never quite fast enough to keep up with the bleeding. It was twenty tiny pieces later when Robin glanced down to the rooftop and balked at the pink puddle that surrounded them.
"I'm not complaining," he said softly, "but should there be that much blood?"
"It's more than it seems with the rain," Slade let him know. It was partly a lie, but he hid it well. Truth be told, the damage was even worse than it looked, and the sharp fragments were deep and scattered in the wound. The blood-loss didn't pose any true danger at the moment, but it would certainly weaken the teen. "And we're almost done."
That was another lie, another flick of the blade, and another shard displaced. Robin's body was shaking after another fifteen, and when the count hit sixty, he braced himself against the man as the world spun around him.
"I'm dizzy," he warned the man, eyes looking gaunt and bleary as Slade carefully pressed against the wound, nothing the slight jump as his finger pushed against the hero's thumb.
"We have one more," Slade murmured, pushing the tip of the blade inside and flicking it back in one fluid motion. "It's out."
Robin let out a haggard sigh and a tired laugh, "Thank god."
"Let's get you inside," Slade dropped the knife and scooped the hero into his arms, noticing the way the teen's head swayed dangerously and the glassy look in his eyes. "You're not going to vomit again, are you?"
Robin huffed slightly, apparently struggling with the decision of whether or not that would be a good thing to do, but before he could reached any solid conclusions, Slade told him to hold on as he jumped into the apartment passageway.
Double posting - woo! There is another chapter to read right now!