A/N - Features fem!Dick aka Grayson Richards (of the Flying Ricardos) and male!Tarantula aka Ceferino Flores.
I was brainstorming a bunch of ideas when I started this fic, which is why my other recent Sladick (Raining In My Head Like A Tragedy) has the same premise - Grayson turning to Slade in the aftermath of Tarantula. I liked both directions I went with it, so I wrote two fics.
TW - Rape, Rape aftermath, Dissociation, PTSD
"Hey, old man. Long time no see," Grayson said in a chipper voice with her trademark thousand-watt smile.
"What the actual fuck?" Slade growled out, looking genuinely pissed for once in their years of mixed dealings.
"Nice place. You gonna invite me in?" she asked, already shouldering past him into the remote log cabin, her duffel bag hitting him squarely in the chest as she passed.
"Kid, you have two seconds to tell me exactly what you're doing here," Slade snarled as he slammed the door shut behind them, despite the lack of prying eyes in his little piece of New Hampshire woods.
"I was in the neighborhood," Grayson said cheerfully. Her duffel hadn't even hit the floor before she was slammed up against a wooden wall, muscular arm across her collarbone and a strong hand gripping her wrist, pinning her in position.
"Time's up," Slade seethed. The familiarity of his touch made her eyes drift closed as an all too elusive peacefulness finally, finally seeped into her bones. Muscles that had been wound too tight for days slowly unraveled. Grayson took in a long, deep breath and spun it out into the air, loose and relieved.
"Kid?" he said gruffly. Her eyes hazily opened.
"If I knew you less well, I'd say you sounded suspicious," she told him with a dopey grin on her face. Slade scoffed.
"And since you know me oh so well, Jane Austen," he sarcastically snarked, "how, pray tell, do I actually sound?" Soft giggles floated out of a throat that she'd thought was permanently sealed with barbed wire.
"Concerned," she confessed with a wondrous smile lighting up her eyes. The arm on her chest relaxed, and although his fingers didn't leave her wrist, he loosened the vise.
"Why are you here, Grayson?" he demanded, moving forward to pin her in, his free hand landing on the wall beside her head. She turned her face to look at it, so near that she could practically feel his body heat radiating off onto her cheek.
"I don't know," she mumbled, lost in tracing her eyes over the tiny indentations and irregularities of his skin. That was a hand she could imagine gliding over her body, under her panties, up inside her -
"Yes, you do." Slade's voice was husky in her ear, his lips bare millimeters from hers when she turned her head back to face him.
"Yes, I do," she whispered, hoping he'd be the one to press forward first. Instead, his white eyebrow quirked upwards.
"Well…?" he drawled. She giggled despite herself.
"You're such an asshole."
"And I'm not a telepath, kid. Why the hell did you come tracking me down to my actual motherfucking home?" Despite his words, his tone lacked any real bite. In fact, being the Slade expert that she was, Grayson would even go so far as to say that it carried some smoky anticipation. She bit her lip, squashing down any and all impulses to tell him the truth. The whole truth, anyway.
Her body was thrumming with SladeSladeSlade, which was exactly what she needed to overwrite Tar- STOPDELETEDISREGARD - anyway - what was she thinking about?
"Talk to me, little bird," Slade said more gently than she'd thought he was capable of speaking. Pain welled up in her chest.
"I missed you," she rasped, suddenly finding that she had to blink rapidly, and what was with that catch in her voice, and - oh. Soft lips pressed into hers, every bit as tender as their fights were brutal. Deathstroke landed punches without mercy and never hesitated to use her weaknesses against her, but Slade's tongue wasn't even taking advantage of the easy opening it could have found, had it only gone looking.
Sweeping fingers combed her hair off her face as a comforting palm curved into her waist. Her fingertips traced stubble and the barest edges of an eyepatch before landing in his short, surprisingly soft locks, while Slade kissed her as sweetly as Kori - NODELETEREROUTE -
"Slade," she mumbled against his lips, not really sure why she said it, except that it made her feel better. (Better than what? His kisses were amazing. They were-)
"Little bird," he smiled down at her, pressing their foreheads together.
"You're pretty when you smile," she realized. He snorted.
"Only when I smile?" he teased, nudging his nose into hers.
"Yeah," Grayson vowed. Slade exploded in a surprised belly laugh. She grinned up at him. "The rest of the time you're sexy," she clarified. "But definitely not pretty," she giggled.
"Thank God," he smirked. He stroked his fingers through her hair and Grayson nuzzled her head into them, drawing a soft, startled noise out of him before he could cut it off.
"You started it," she mumbled with her eyes closed.
"How the hell did I start it?" he laughed back at her in disbelief.
"Kissing me all nice," she hummed into his touch, arching with delight as he began scritching little lines on her scalp.
"Something wrong with the way I kissed you?" he teasingly challenged her.
"Nope," she dreamily sighed.
"Who showed up at whose cabin, little bird?" he demanded with his mouth against her ear, all soft and toe-curling.
"I missed you," she repeated with a pout. She had, but maybe she hadn't realized quite how much, or why, until - DELETEDELETEDELETE -
"So it's my fault for finally doing what you asked and not taking contracts in Bludhaven anymore?" he drawled.
"Didn't have to take a contract to come visit me," she protested, turning back to face him. Their eyes met for a long minute.
"You have a partner now," he finally said.
"An apprentice," she snapped, making him cough on a chuckle. "And that's all he was," she said shortly. Not going there. Nope. No. Uh-uh. She liked Slade but some things were - REDACTEDREMOVEDERASEDFROMEXISTENCE -
"All he was…?" Slade asked curiously.
"Yeah. I don't want to talk about it." That much, at least, was true.
"Ok," he said after a short pause.
"Ok," she repeated firmly.
"Ok." They held each other's eyes. "That why you came looking for me?" he asked mildly.
"No. Yes. I don't know. I wanted -" to feel safe. To be touched by someone she picked, for once in her goddamn life. To curl up next to the only person she actually truly trusted.
"- to finish your apprenticeship?" Slade smirked at her. "Because you realize now that the shoe's on the other foot how utterly foolish you were to walk out on me?"
"Such an asshole," she muttered as her arms slipped around his neck.
"Never said I wasn't," he laughed into her kiss.
Grayson pushed her own tongue into his mouth this time and he let her, but kept the pace slow and deliberate, and fuck, why was that so good? She'd expected him to kiss like they fought. Hell, she'd wanted that, even. A hot, fast, overwhelming coupling that would serve its purpose as quickly as possible, whether she got off or not, and she'd rather suspected she would not.
But, this? This wasn't the plan. Languid, soft kisses that melted against her tongue and made her toes curl, gentle arms around her waist not bruising her ribs, smiles and affectionate snark instead of razors? A happy (happy?) mmf slipped out of her heart as she wound her arms around him a little tighter and pulled herself in closer. Slade answered her in a low, reverberating rumble, squeezing her a little stronger, but not the slightest bit rough.
Was this what sex was supposed to feel like, when you were in love? With Kori - but it wasn't Kori - and how was she supposed to know? They'd never - she'd assumed - and yeah, Kori - NOTKORI - had been wild, not slow and sweet, but Grayson had assumed it was just enthusiasm and excitement and - she'd been excited, too - and it had felt amazing - but - but - but -
"Kid?" Why was her vision blurry?
"Huh?" They'd been kissing - they'd been - Slade - NOTKORI - Slade - Grayson stepped back and wiped her eyes with a shaky hand.
"Tell me what happened, kid," he said quietly. She sniffed and shook her head no. He sighed. "When you're ready, you tell me."
"Ok," she whispered. She'd never be ready. But that didn't matter, because she'd get her body and soul all patched back together, just like she'd done last time - even better than last time - and then she'd be perfect Grayson Richards again. Slade might not forget, but once he saw her dazzling sunshine burst out from behind her clouds, he'd let it go. She was sure of it.
He wasn't moving to kiss her again, though.
"Did you - are we gonna -?" she swallowed. Why was it so hard to say "fuck me," dammit? Shouldn't he be dragging her off the bedroom already? Instead of standing too far away from her, looking her over as assessingly as if she was a target?
"Did you drive straight through?" he asked her. She nodded in confusion. "Let's eat," he said, reaching a hand out for her. She automatically took it, still feeling a little lost, as Slade led her through his cozy log cabin, back to the kitchen.
Well, if he was hungry … she hadn't really eaten in a few days but she didn't feel like ever eating again, so. Whatever. She'd push some food around on her plate to make him happy.
Slade was very much not happy with her pushed around food.
"When's the last time you ate, kid?" he asked her.
"Today. Not that long ago, even. Sorry. I shouldn't have taken so much," Grayson the Flying Ricardo lied with the greatest of ease. "It just smelled so good. Eyes bigger than my stomach, I guess," she lightly laughed. Slade gave her an unimpressed look.
"You got a sweet tooth, right?" was what he said, though.
"I - uh - y-yeah?" she said slowly.
"Go look up a recipe for your favorite dessert in that cookbook," he ordered her, motioning with his head as he stood and began to clear their plates away.
"I - Slade - I'm not hungry," she protested. "I couldn't eat dessert:"
"I could," he said placidly. "Go pick out something you like." She wanted to argue more, but he turned his back on her and started doing the dishes. She had meant to wash up for him, so petulantly refusing to pick a dessert felt doubly rude and - well - whatever. She didn't have to eat it.
"Measuring cups are in the drawer to your right," he said over his shoulder when she came back to the island with the cookbook in hand. She suppressed a silent sigh and started assembling her tools.
"Baking ingredients?" she asked him.
"Pantry," he motioned to the tall cupboard in the corner.
"I'm surprised you keep your butter in the pantry," she remarked as she came back with four soft sticks. "Most Americans don't."
"Most Americans are stupid," Slade scoffed.
"Right?" she laughed in agreement. "How are you supposed to spread rock hard butter on anything? Or bake with it?"
"Did Pennyworth keep his in the pantry?" he asked her.
"Yeah," she said, faintly surprised that he was bothering to make conversation about her family - and oddly pleased. "So, Bruce and me both thought that was the normal thing to do, 'cause of course my parents had done the same thing. Tim very much did not agree with us," she laughed softly, thinking back to the shocked teenager who'd looked at them like they were all insane.
"Jason did?" he wanted to know.
"I don't think Jason ever had much butter in his life before us," she frowned, thinking with sadness of the jagged pain of her deceased younger brother's often hungry childhood. Slade gave a soft noise of acknowledgment as he dried his hands on a dish towel.
"What are we making?" he asked her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his head on her shoulder.
God, it had been way too long since the last time anyone had done that to her. She couldn't even remember the specifics of the last time. It had been Kori, of course, so much taller than her, despite Grayson's not-short stature. Her girlfriend had been so easily affectionate. Always wanting to touch, to hug, to cuddle, to kiss.
So what, Grayson had been supposed to magically assume that she'd never want to go further? Wasn't sex the natural progression of their relationship? They'd been in love! And they'd never talked about not doing it, but somehow Grayson was the fuckup for not realizing that Kori would "never" - but she would, and had, after Grayson so, so - what the fuck how could she just break up -
"Sugar cookies," Grayson said abruptly, suddenly coming back to the present.
"Sounds good," Slade hummed in her ear.
"Yeah," she whispered helplessly as a tear slid down her cheek. She and Kori used to bake sugar cookies. She and her parents used to bake sugar cookies, too. And her and Jason. Sugar cookies were Grayson's love language. She didn't even really need to look the recipe up.
Slade silently reached a hand up and brushed her tear away, but she clutched at his remaining hand on her waist tighter, not wanting him to let her go.
"Kid, I ain't an expert, but talking stuff out is supposed to help," he said as he snuggled both arms back around her in a reassuring bear hug. She sniffed and rubbed her nose.
"Do you have any chocolate chips?" she asked quietly. Slade sighed.
"I keep a couple bags for when Joey visits," he answered, though.
"Let's make chocolate chip cookies instead," Grayson said dully.
"Ok by me," Slade said gently. He pressed a kiss to her temple before walking to the pantry.
"More milk?" Slade asked her an hour later.
"Yes," Grayson sulkily grumbled. Fuck saying please. He'd tricked her. Slade's chuckle was fond as he took her glass and refilled it, setting it down beside the plate of still warm cookies that she'd somehow managed to eat half of.
His eye was as warm as the cookies as he watched her dip another one into her milk and then happily stuff it in her mouth before it crumbled.
"I missed you, too," he said out of the blue.
"And whose fault was that?" Grayson snarked as she plucked one more cookie off the plate. He hummed in response.
"I hope you weren't planning on a causal fling, kid," he said instead, "because I'm one possessive bastard." She snorted.
"No shit." A little smile found its way to her lips. "You really want to date?" she asked him. "For real?" That was … more than she'd been hoping for. Honestly, she hadn't thought past getting laid and wiping Cef - DELETEABORTREPROGRAM -
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Slade said with a quiet intensity.
"Ok," Grayson said softly, feeling some of her loose pieces settle back into place.
"Ok?" Slade checked, eyebrow raised as he leaned forward. She nodded.
His hand cupped her cheek as he kissed her, licking into her mouth and mingling their chocolate-coated tongues together. Grayson sighed into it and reached out, fumbling with her hands for his chest. A minute later and she was boldly tugging herself into his lap, legs turned sideways as he kept kissing her, as slow and sweet as one of their cookies, while his arms wrapped around her waist and hers went around his neck.
She gave a content sigh when he let her lips go, and laid her head down on his shoulder, hardly surprised when he stood with her in his arms. Finally. Her relief was short-lived, however, when he walked them to his red plaid couch in the living room instead of to his bedroom.
"Slade?" she asked, wrinkling her brow up in confusion as he sat down with her still in his lap.
"What TV show do you like to watch?" he asked her, picking up the remote from the side table.
"You want to watch TV?" Grayson said, feeling utterly befuddled.
"I do. What show?"
"Uh, American Pickers," she said slowly. His face lit up.
"Good choice," he grinned at her as he turned the TV on. She smiled back somewhat hesitantly, still feeling damn confused, but pleased that Slade liked the antique hunting duo as much as she did.
"Sometimes they find circus posters," she said softly, like she was sharing a secret.
"Do you miss it? The circus?" Slade asked her curiously as he pulled an episode up and hit play.
"Every day," Grayson murmured, surprised maybe not by the sudden emotion clogging her throat, but that she was sharing it with Slade - or that he'd bothered to ask in the first place.
"What parts?" he wanted to know, sounding genuinely interested over the low background noise of Mike and Frank's brotherly bickering.
"I mean, my parents, of course," she said. "But the trapeze, too. Learning new tricks, practicing every day, knowing my parents would always catch me, performing for all that applause… Plus living and traveling with a huge extended family that understood me like no one else ever could," she swallowed hard. "We were so insulated from the world, our own little community. All of us masters of our craft, or at least trying to be," she sighed.
"Kind of surprised you left the Titans, then," Slade commented. "Seems a bit similar." Grayson froze.
"Not - not so similar," she stuttered. She felt his eye seeking hers out, but refused to meet it.
"You gonna elaborate on that, kid?" he prodded. She shook her head no. He grunted, low and concerned. Grayson snuggled deeper into his chest. Maybe if she pretended she hadn't heard, he'd let it go. Or if she cuddled him good enough. Slade sighed and wrapped her tighter in his arms, and to her relief he stopped talking and let a comfortable silence fall, marked only by their soft chuckles at silly moments in the show.
After a few episodes, Slade clicked the TV off.
"You ready for bed, little bird?" he asked her. She nodded. Finally. Finally she'd get the bad memories fucked out of her by someone she wanted, someone she - maybe loved. Which seemed like much less stupid of a predicament to be in, now that she knew Slade wanted to actually date her. God, she'd missed him.
At first she thought he must have been on a long job, when weeks slipped into a month and he hadn't come crawling around Bludhaven, teasing and annoying and sparring with her. At six weeks, she began to worry, and at two months she began quietly poking around, trying to keep her motives covered.
When Joey answered her seemingly casual question about how things were between him and his dad with news of semi-regular visits to his cabin, including two in the two months that Slade hadn't been in Bludhaven, Grayson's heart had shattered. Slade hadn't been working or injured or anything other than inexplicably done with her.
So she'd thought, anyway.
He slung her duffel bag over his shoulder and took her hand in his to lead her up the wooden staircase, into a small master bedroom, no more furniture than a queen size bed, pair of night tables, and a chest of drawers.
"You have something to sleep in, or you want boxers and a tee?" he asked her as he set her bag on top of the dresser.
Sleep in? Were they not - did he mean for after? Maybe he meant for after. Surely, Grayson decided.
"I mean, I do have pajamas but I'd rather sleep in your clothes," she admitted, turning to squeeze him tight around the waist while she propped her chin up on his chest and gave him an adorable smile. His chuckle was as warm as whiskey.
"I'd rather you sleep in my clothes, too, little bird," he rasped as his hands slid along her back. He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, and Grayson was just leaning forward to deepen it when Slade pulled back and let her go, moving to open a dresser drawer instead.
"You need a toothbrush?" he asked, handing her the boxers and tee.
"I have one," she automatically replied. Maybe he was just being prepared, she decided, as she rifled through her bag while he went to pee. Knowing they'd be tired afterwards, and wanting to get her all set up for sleep now instead of waiting until she was all fucked out and too lazy to bother.
Yeah, that was it. Slade was nothing if not a planner, she reminded herself. He was only in his boxers when he came out of the bathroom, so Grayson went ahead and changed into her sleep clothes, too, when she went to pee and brush her teeth. It was their first time, she reasoned. He wanted them to undress each other slowly, and sleep clothes were more comfortable and easier to strip out of. The practical choice.
Slade was being sensitive, for once in his life. Thoughtful. Not moving too fast, taking his time to let them have a little dinner and TV date first, and not rushing her into nudity. Which was very sweet, actually, she decided.
Anxieties calmed, she easily returned his smile when she emerged from the bathroom, and happily climbed into bed next to him. He was laying on his side, watching her, so she lay down, too, facing him.
"Is the pillow ok?" he asked her. "I can grab more from the guest room if you need them."
"It's good," she said.
"Ok," he smiled at her. "Love you, little bird."
"Love you, too," she managed to say back without squealing and kicking her feet like a teenager, even though she'd known - or thought she'd known, until she'd doubted - his feelings long before finally now hearing the words.
He held her face as he kissed her, and Grayson sighed into it - until Slade broke away and rolled over to turn off the bedside light, plunging them into shadowy darkness, with the moonlight streaming through his curtainless windows. Oh-kayyy….?
He didn't want to see her? Was he worried she'd be shy? She wasn't, not with him, and she wanted to see him. What -
"Good night, little bird," Slade said, settling down like he was going to sleep?
"Good night?" she asked, but he only hummed in response. REJECTIONUNWORTHYNOTWANTEDNOTLOVEDNOT -
"Kid?" he asked her in surprise, scooting closer now that she was gulping and sniffing around the tears running down her cheeks. But what, he couldn't have moved closer when she'd wanted him to? She wasn't good enough to -
"Tell me what's wrong, kid," he quietly demanded.
"YouwontfuckmewhatswrongwithmewhywontanybodyIlovefuckmewhydoIonlygetraped -" she blubbered out in despair, as snotty tears turned to sobs and then gut-wrenching heaves that shook her whole body and cracked her soul along her rib bones.
She didn't notice Slade moving until his hands were gripping her shoulders.
"Who raped you, kid?" he said gently, despite his fingers digging into her like he was the one drowning.
"MirageshemademethinkshewasKorianditwasmyfirsttimeandIwassohappythenitwasntrealandKoribrokeupwithmeeveryonelaughedatmeandcalledmeslutthenCeferinorapedmeafterIlethimkillBlockbusterandIwasfreakingoutandcouldntmoveIjustlaythereandherapedmebutIsaidnobuthedidntstopandIcouldntfighthimoffIwantedtodoyouthinkImweakandpathetic?"
"You're the opposite of weak and pathetic," Slade growled.
"Then why won't you fuck me?" Grayson bawled. "What's wrong with me? I want to have sex and I came here to have sex and you said you loved me and you want to date but I'm not good enough for you to fuck and whyyy?" she sobbed.
"Kid, I very much want to have sex with you," Slade said firmly, "but you've been off ever since you showed up. I was worried about you, little bird," he said soothingly. "I needed to know what was going on first." He managed to loosen his grip on her shoulders, and began rubbing her arms instead, slow, soothing strokes, up and down.
"I need your help," Grayson sniffed. "Need to get them out of me. All I can feel is them touching me and I want you - wanted you for so long - gonna claw my skin off if you don't gimme you to feel instead."
"Ok, then," Slade said, and suddenly she was being scooped into his lap, legs straddling his waist, and his lips were on hers, and then his tongue was really on hers, doing all the acrobatic tricks she'd come to the circus to taste.
Grayson groaned and tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him even closer as she hauled her body forward, trying to merge her cells with his, despite the clothes in the way. Slade moaned into her mouth, using the arm slung around her waist to help her achieve her goal, while his other hand found her butt cheek and massaged, sure and steady.
She melted against him as they made out, hungry and desperate at first, but then Slade drew back, panting.
"How do you actually want it?" he asked her.
"What?" Grayson said, confused.
"Lights on, lights off, fast, slow, romantic, rough, whatever you want, it's yours, little bird," Slade told her, forcing his breathing to steady out and his hands to gentle over her skin.
"Oh," she said softly. Slade waited, lightly rubbing her hips while she found the words and the courage. "I mean…" she started to say, before trailing off and biting her lip in the dark in embarrassment.
"Lights on or off?" he prompted her.
"On," she mumbled.
"Ok," he smiled against her forehead. He leaned way back with one arm around her waist and stretched his other hand out to click the light back on. Grayson squinted in the sudden brightness, despite the objectively dim bedside lamp.
"We're gonna use stoplights," he told her. "Red, yellow, green, ok?" he said and she nodded. "But you can also say stop or wait, and I will," he promised. "If you lose your words, you tap on me three times. Yes?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Good," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "What specifically shouldn't I do?" he asked her, rubbing a soothing hand in circles over her back before sliding it up to scrunch her neck and shoulders to release the tension.
"Don't call me baby," Grayson scowled.
"Noted," he said gently. "What else?"
"I don't - I don't wanna be flat on my back," she gulped.
"Ok," he said softly. One of his hands wandered up to begin wiping the half-dry tears off of her cheeks. "Anything else, sweetheart?" A sob choked her throat. "What is it, little bird?" Slade murmured. "You can tell me."
"When you kissed me downstairs," she sniffed, "you were so slow -"
"Oh. That's bad?" he said neutrally enough, but Grayson registered the slight disappointment in his eyes, and it fanned the licking flames in her heart that had kicked to life when he'd called her sweetheart.
She fiercely shook her head no.
"It's good," she told him. "So good. I thought my first time would be slow like that, but Kori was so eager - except it was Mirage - but Kori had been abused before so I just went with it. I wanted to make her happy, you know?" she sniffed. "Maybe I should have known it wasn't her," she said guiltily, but Slade growled.
"No, you fucking should not have. Lots of teenagers wait until they're so wound up they can't stand it to have sex for the first time," he said roughly. "Kori could very easily have been just like that. And more to the point, you shouldn't have had to be on guard about being deceived and raped by a teammate," he said flatly. "Your asshole of an ex-girlfriend should have had your back afterwards. Your whole team should have."
"Yeah," Grayson said quietly. She rubbed her nose. "Why did you stop coming to Bludhaven?" she wanted to know.
"Fuck, kid," Slade groaned. "I thought you were dating Tarantula. You've never had a partner before, and…" he shrugged.
"You could've asked," she said.
"Yeah, kid, maybe I could have," he said heavily. "But I still wouldn't have liked him being around you. I would have driven him off and made you hate me for being an old, possessive bastard," he said with a wry twist to his lips. "Staying out of your hair seemed like the better option. I'm so fucking sorry," he said hoarsely, pressing his forehead to hers.
"It wasn't your fault," she protested.
"It wouldn't have happened if I'd gotten rid of him like I wanted to," he said grimly.
"Yeah, but I would have been so angry that you drove him off that this wouldn't have happened for like, another two years, at least," she said softly, hating that both things were true.
"Better than you being raped," he growled.
"You really don't think I'm weak?" she asked dully. "I just lay there, Slade. I can kick his ass any day of the week."
"Not that day," he said firmly. "You're not weak, little bird."
"I let him kill Blockbuster. He told me to walk away and he'd take care of it, and I did."
"Why?" Slade asked curiously.
"He'd bombed my entire apartment and killed all my neighbors," Grayson said, her eyes filling with tears. "Cef thinks I walked away because Blockbuster knew my identity, but that wasn't why," she sniffed. "I was so angry - am so angry - Mrs. Mead, and Alan and Sofia, and RJ and Sanji and -" suddenly she bawling again, into Slade's shoulder as he hugged her close.
"I'm sorry, kid," he kept murmuring in her hair. "I'm so, so sorry."
"They were my friends!" she howled. "They were good people! So many deaths, for what? I hate him!" she screamed. "How could he do that to them? To their families? Their friends? All of them gone!" she shrieked, her voice going hoarse with rage and grief.
"But. I let Bruce down," she mumbled into Slade's neck as she sobbed. "I let myself down. I let Cef down. I was mentoring him to stop killing."
"It's ok, little bird," he soothed. "You'll never do it again." She looked up at him with a runny nose.
"I thought you'd be congratulating me for finally crossing the line," she said in surprise.
"Sweetheart, I learned a long time ago that you wouldn't be the little bird I loved so dearly if I made you over in my image," he admitted. "I never wanted you broken, kid."
"Karma sure got me, huh," she said hollowly.
"No," Slade snarled. "You didn't do a damn thing to deserve that." She sniffed and let out a long, deep breath.
"You're going to kill him, aren't you," she said as a statement, not a question, but Slade answered her anyway.
"It's not on you," he said, piercing her eyes with his intense gaze, "because nothing you can say will stop me, and you've still never won a fight against me. Don't feel guilty."
"I think I feel guilty for not feeling guilty," she muttered, wiping her nose on the arm of her t-shirt.
"Don't feel guilty for that, either," he murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Give yourself a break, little bird. Ok?" Grayson sighed.
"I'll try," she mumbled.
"Good," Slade sadly smiled. He reached a hand up and stroked it through her hair. "We can wait until tomorrow to have sex, if you'd rather," he said gently. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."
"Yeah, maybe tomorrow would be better," she softly conceded. "But - will you cuddle me while I fall asleep?" she asked in a tiny voice.
"Kid, it would be my absolute pleasure," Slade swore. He turned the light off and positioned her into his big spoon as they lay back down. Grayson exhaled, long and deep, as the arms of the most dangerous man she knew encircled her.
For the first time in years, she felt safe.
The End
A/N - Thanks for reading! You can follow me on Tumblr at River9Noble
