A/N: Super short chapter with no smut. The story is happening. Who did this?
"Slade, can you look at this?" Robin asked meekly as he unwrapped his injured hand, gently laying the fabric on the dining room table.
"You're trying to trick me into a quickie, and I know it," the villain flashed an exasperated smirk and tested each of the knots in their makeshift supplies rope. He'd already made a thorough inspection of the rope the teen had used to climb down from the rooftop and had found it satisfactory for his travel to the adjacent apartments.
The teen's meekness melted into a humored shrug, "Actually, I was trying for a blowjob, but a quickie sounds nice."
"Insatiable," Slade muttered, spending an extra moment examining a knot before he seemed satisfied and moved on. "If I find any tranquilizers down there, I'm bringing them up with me – if anything just to get some work done."
"Hey, you're the one that wanted me alive." Robin waived his good hand dismissively and glanced at the armor-in-progress before he began wrapping the hand in fresh cloth.
"How does it look, by the way?" Slade asked as he tucked their limited weapons into his clothing and took a brief inventory.
"Like a psychopath carved it with a filet knife."
"So, no sign of infection?"
"No." Robin answered, gingerly flexing his hand and bearing the sting of his new skin stretching. "The wounds are pretty much closed... well, mostly."
"Good. You should let it air out some – after the mission. It still needs to be covered even though you're up here."
"Hahaha – Robin gets the shitty part of the mission, haha – I get it." The teen grumbled as he stood and walked over to the man. He flashed his gloved hand to show he was ready. "I can't believe I'm actually jealous of you right now."
"You're just a little stir-crazy," Slade responded with an impatient frown, knowing what was coming next. Right on cue, he felt a hand snaking around his hips. Robin gave the tiniest little hum as his fingers traced the shape of the man's length, cupping it with a gentle squeeze. "Save it for when I get back," Slade chastised and removed the teen's good hand from his zipper. "And put on your gloves."
"Really? This could be it for us, and you're going to go out there with a loaded ball sack?"
"I've humored you for three days of terrible weather. I've fucked you on the bed, the couch, the counter, the table, the walls – this wall, that wall, the roof, the floor-"
"Have I mentioned how much I love your stamina?" Robin smirked.
"Many times," Slade did his best not to return the expression as he threw the climbing rope out the window.
"And I didn't cry on you! And not once did I gag on your cock."
"You're the one who – Nevermind." Slade handed the teen his own bo-staff. "Here – you can gag on that until I get back."
"Ha ha," Robin pouted, examining the knots that sat squarely in the center of his staff. Along with the rope he'd used to climb down to the apartment window, Slade had attached a handmade rope for raising and lowering any supplies. "Do you think we'll find anything useful?" he asked as tested the bar against the window-frame.
"For the armor – yes. Probably not so much with food. We lucked out with this apartment, but I doubt any others will be this equipped. With any luck, I can sweep this floor and the one under us." Slade moved the teen to the side and began climbing out the window. "Keep the line steady. Don't lower the supply rope until I say so."
"Don't die," Robin said quietly. He'd meant it to be a joke, but the light tone hadn't made it past his throat before the weight of the words hushed any humor.
"Don't worry," Slade gave a smirk before grabbing the climbing rope and quickly descending to the window below. Robin was quick to follow to the extent that he could, peering over the ledge to watch his fellow survivor work.
Moisture clung to the chilled air and Slade drew in a long, steady breath. Robin was right to be jealous. Though it was only mere feet away from the safe-zone, the feeling of being outside their small protected world was truly freeing. He gave a small glance to the swarm below, wondering if there had been any change in the numbers through the storms. There were far too many to tell.
Robin leaned out the window, using his chest to keep the bar steady as he watched the man from above. Slade reached the window and cupped his hand against the glass, peering into the apartment. "Is it clear?"
"No. Door's open. Dead inside." He moved away from the glass as several of the dead rushed forward, beating against the pane and gnawing stupidly the surface.
"Shit… going down or over?"
"Down first," Slade answered, letting more of the rope slide through his grip before he could see through the next window. He gave the glass a series of hard taps before he saw something stir from inside before it quickly made its way to the window. "Not clear… Just one. Door is closed… dead-bolted…"
Robin heard something pound against the window below and swallowed hard. "What do you think?"
"It's as good as any. I'm going in."
"Careful," Robin whispered, his voice a quiet plea as Slade pressed his hand against the glass and slowly moved it upward. A stained hand shot out through the narrow crack, clawing at the man with a series of inhuman, guttural screams. The hero held his breath as he watched Slade move into position, opening the window and in the same moment thrusting his foot inside to kick the dead back. A terrified sound escaped the teen's mouth as he watched the white hair disappear into the building. The fight that followed was concise. He could hear the man land and take it out in a single blow. It had scrambled somewhat before that, no doubt moving towards him in a desperate mindless attempt to rip at his flesh. Robin felt his skin crawl at the thought.
"Clear" Slade called back out the window, flashing a quick thumbs-up to the teen outside the window. "Sweeping through."
Robin waited several long moments, his body starting to shake before he called out, "Slade?"
"Calm down," came a muffled response. "I'll let you know if something happens - Just listen for a lot of yelling."
"Not funny."
After five minutes of biting his tongue, Robin jumped as Slade's stuck his hand out of the window and waved. "Send down the rope. A decent haul. Some food, but most was contaminated. We'll have better luck with supplies in the apartments that were evacuated and locked."
Robin did as he was told, lowering the cloth rope and watching as Slade placed several items into the bag attached at the bottom.
"Pull up," Slade called, giving the robe a quick tug and watching as the cargo rose in a series of quick tugs.
"That's it?" the hero balked upon pulling the light-weight haul into the apartment.
"No," Slade answered. "We've got a few more to go."
"Worried about the rope?" Robin asked before sending the rope back down, "Or my hand?"
"Both."
Robin gave a small roll of his eyes, thankful that Slade couldn't see the action. He knew he should have been appreciative that the man was aware of his limitations and focused on his healing, but the thought of Slade taking it easy on him was always relentlessly insulting. He threw the line back over and waited as Slade filled the sack before pulling it back up and adding to the pile each time.
"Good thing it rained so much," he muttered as he looked over the pile of dried food. "Slade'll be happy about the cans."
"Good thing for the canned food," Slade called from below, making the teen smirk and chuckle. "We can use it in the armor after eating."
"Any duct tape?" Robin peered out of the window and lowered the line once again.
"Electrical tape, but it's contaminated. I'll think about using it for mine, but I want yours clean. I'll send that up last in a plastic bag – don't open it."
"Duh," Robin muttered, again thankful for the distance that prevented Slade from witnessing his quiet sarcasms. "Any weapons?"
"Yeah, two AK-47 and a machete."
"Fuck off, Slade," the hero responded, not sure if he'd meant to say it as loudly as he did, but Slade only chuckled from below.
"Just kitchen knives. I'm hoping one of the neighbors likes sports. We could do some damage with a bat or a set of clubs."
"I wonder if Sports Master is dead," Robin waxed, pulling the rope into the apartment. "He'd be great to have around right now."
"He was a hot-headed prick. I can't imagine he made it long," Slade commented, giving the line a few quick tugs and watching it rise up to his companion. "Probably died looting something… he would have made good bait, I suppose."
"He probably would have thought the same of us."
"Probably? That's generous."
"Yeah, yeah," the teen said dismissively, placing a can of green beans onto his stack before lowering the rope.
"Last one," Slade let him know, filling the sac with a few more items before placing a plastic garbage bag inside.
Robin pulled the bag to the window and carefully unloaded the items before sticking his head out the window and peering down at the villain. "Now what?"
"Next apartment. I'm going over by rope. I want to keep this one clear in case I need to recuperate before climbing back up. I'm keeping some bleach and alcohol down here to help with disinfection. If I can get a barricade in the stairwell, I'll open the locks, but until then, this one stays closed."
The hero watched in silence as Slade pulled himself out if the window, grabbing hold of his climbing rope and soon dangling over the sea of dead below them. He held his breath as the man moved in a calculated rhythm, swaying back and forth until he was able to grab hold of the next sill and steady himself against the glass.
"Anything?" Robin asked nervously.
"No… Looks clean. Door is closed…" he wrapped his knuckles against the window and waited a few moments before he pressed on the pane. "It's locked, though. I'll need to break in."
"Careful. That didn't work out so great for me before." Robin said, watching as Slade steadied himself with the rope and kicked through the higher pane. Hole in place, he carefully reached through and unlocked the window before easily sliding it open and moving inside. "Yeah, well, it's not a contest." He huffed.
"Get ready to swing the line over," Slade called after a quick sweep. "Some good tools in here - and duct tape."
"Aww, your prayers were answered," Robin cooed before dropping a can of tuna into the sack for swinging weight.
"Not much food, but this will be a good haul for armor supplies," the villain leaned out the window and grabbed the bad as it swung towards him. "Some clothes your size as well – that will help."
"Still no weapons?"
"Nothing good for long or medium-range." Slade peered up to the teen. "But there are a lot more flats to cover and we have all the time in the world."
Robin quirked a brow, "You do, Maybe."
A/N: Can it be bedtime? Oh my god, it's bedtime! Yay!