Sladin or Bust – Explicit One Shots from the Vault of Sladin-

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DRINKING BUDDIES

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THIS IS POST RAPE, POST DEATHSTROKE NOT AS THE FULL 2003 VERSION BUT ALTERNATE IN MY MISERY YEARS ARC FROM A SERIES OF DOUBTS. DICK GETS REALLY DRUNK AFTER HIS SHIFT AND SLADE ENDS UP TRYING TO COAX HIM OUT OF WANTING TO KILL HIMSELF…SATIRE. IT'S WHINIER DICK AT THIS POINT. THE REST IS WAKING UP LIKE HE HAD A BAD DREAM. JUST, GO WITH IT FOR NOW. ORIGINALLY, IT WAS ABOUT SLADE SOMEHOW GETTING DRUNK BUT…THAT IS FOR ANOTHER APPRENTICE ARC, I THINK.

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Dick's work day was mellow, very uneventful – save for the madman from another dimensional timeliness that he was trying rehabilitate as a decent individual. That investment was too many attempts of cheap romance and a couple of degrees of scarring that had him treated as a teen going out to some party after dark. He was Nightwing! Scars made him who he was, they built character…. yet this, sicko wanted him without flaws.

There was no way, so after work Dick stayed out. A club had a bar and Dick had access. To the whole bottle now at 21. He laughed to himself as he imagined the look on the mercenary's face. Safe? There was no such thing! Je jumped around like a child and laughed while leaping in in puddles of rain that were since done falling. Slade, his enemy was trying to protect him from his untimely demise? He snorted, taking another swig of the bottle. He'd give his ex-apprentice a damn stroke before he even had the honor of being scarred by some other hot shot. Maybe Nighter. Or Sionas? "J… Jaz…ooh…where you at? He-hee-!" He giggled and knew it was a cry for help. Jason was still dedicated. Batman was still fearful. In Sweden, he was stranded and not afraid to take to his bed his regrets in silence. If only…

In bed, he never had privacy. When his guard was turned, the heat went way down in the place. It was a change Slade had said was a maintenance fix that would take some time. To remedy this, he offered up his significantly God-awful body heat. Through cuddling. Not the grope- less kind, not while Dick was already reliving the damned fuck on the kitchen island's table.

He'd sterilized it three times in a week and that was not because of the man lording over the kitchen while he worked. It was because the new touch rule was only hand job related in this Slade's brain. He said he'd only settle for that or the plan would fall through and he'd break their agreement. Slade, even if it wasn't him, the double had no bars to hold him, so he got his way. Groping left sticky messes on plain sight and even under the covers, Dick the next day felt filthier than the night before.

He'd get a respite. A few days off tops, but then it was shower hand job. Kitchen blow job, and bedroom spooning! No penetration meant being tickled to death by a man that survived off of his cum and humiliation!

"E's a…Allen….lifers! Yup! Hic!*"

( He's an alien life form, yep.)

(TRANSLATING THE WINE DIGGER HERE.)

Nothing, including his words could make sense as he watched a car come in close. He could jump, but could he –

Richard pulled away from the road and took another swig. " " FUUK!" He groaned. He needed a new bottle, soon. The buzz was wearing off.

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He came in close to after midnight. His clothing reaked of weed and filthy smells that offended the nose of the boy's captor. No longer a boy, the roomie flicked on a light as he sat on the sofa across the room. His eye was open and he could hint a distressed call from miles off. Only his little bird's aroma, was quite expected.

"M' gonna showe-

( I'm gonna shower.)

"You'll stay , Dick. This is not my idea anyhow. You wanted intervening?" The man rose as Dick blew a raspberry. "Bleg! You th…thin I need'yu? I wassa 'ero! Ya took "uay ever'thin I ahmd!"

(BLECH, YOU THINK I NEED YOU? I WAS A HERO! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING I HAD.)

"N' thank u, bud. My house. You stil' slep in my bed! Y' wanna bet? Hic!" He grinned and caught himself over the table. The bottle swirling the last of his after-spit of drunkenness.

( No thank you, bud. My house. You still sleep in my bed. You want to bet?)

"You pay half, bills come to me though. The heating bill for instance –

"Y'ea…. that wassa dirty eeh trick, you…."

(Yeah, that was a dirty trick…you.)

"It was to keep us close. If I lost sight, this could easily happen. I was right –

" WRONG ! DING – DONG DADDA!" Dick pointed at the merc's lack of mercy. "I drinking this much? cos you don't see me ass a pers….pers….People! I am.. soo much betterer….th….he is…NOT! Th… other guy!" Dick wrapped down his bottle as it cranked. Almost empty. "You eann a see me eat da posing in the kitchen? I got ahold' some shit y' dun wanna try – hic!"

"WHAT??" Slade would be at his throat soon; not just for his Nightwing comment. The drug reference was a good dose of something in case he was desperate. In the days he'd worked in the precinct, a new narcotic had been to market and safely locked up. Pop and tab and for fifteen hours, you got more loose than a high-school party. Or sleepy as –

"I GOT THE SHIT – HAAHAAA! NEH NEH! COME' GETCHA –

"DICK." The man watched as his swift moments were totally side landed while Dick was blasted with wine and depressive tendencies. He popped a tab from a stupid baggy and dropped it. His body swaying as his eyes remained fixed on the floor. Slade scooped up the narcotic and snarled at the hero. "What the fuck have you done?? Spit it'out! Now."

Dick grinned as he was this close – Slade dragged at his arm and with a swift and painful wrench of the man's jaw, shoved his fingers so far into Dick's gag reflux, that he thought he'd blacked out a second before vomiting up the tab and his whole day of confiscated honey buns from tea time.

It was the first time Dick saw God looking down on him, barely about to stand it himself. "To. Bed. I'll clean up your mess."

Dick stumbled to the cot as he choked at the sensation still there. The after effects of whatever he had almost swallowed. He had to do a chewable or inject –

Dick stopped. "What…what the hell…..

Fuck…

Fuck!" He groaned and pounded the door, his own skull before crawling under the covers. Slade stayed up well after, sterilizing down the entire kitchen before retiring to the sofa. For the first time since, he didn't let Dick stay out with the intent to try and kill himself. That drug was more potent than it let on. With alcohol, it could have lead to heart failure right on the spot. Had Dick done his homework instead of wanting to get high off his ass and not suck up being sucked on, well…

Slade let the home go quiet as he heard sniffling from the next wall. Dick. Was finally coming to.

He smiled and pulled his covers back to move quickly. Dick was not by the window as he opened the door, but under the covers. Huddled there and shaking off the withdrawal that had almost been. "Slade moved without sound. He made sure his hands took hold but above the sheets. He simple stayed. No hands to touch lower, just….to keep him safe. That was all.

Dick didn't protest and still cried himself off to sleep. Slade slept between the barrier and remained in his essence, completely chaste in their relationship for the first time in a long decade.

To him, this was a step closer to replacing the original.

To him, the old poser could stay on his earth and live out his life knowing this was worth the afterthought.

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Slade's journey ended as he was flung into a futuristic street corner. The smell of drug smog and traffic being amiss – save for the smokestacks here, had him recognize the piss and vinegar reluctance as he dusted off his armor. The fake had taken over his time, shoved him through space.

But, where was here now?

No kids on the streets and this dystopia didn't feel all too real. "HALT."

A robot with a voice almost less than human levitated towards the merc. "RECOGNIZING IDENTITY – SLADE WILSON , EX TRAINED MILITARU OPERATIVE – OCCUPATION, SECURITY. LOCATION OF RESIDENCE- BLUDHAVEN NEW JERSEY." The bot nodded before bobbing along. That was

..

"Did it say, I have a job here? In Blud?" He looked up and saw for the first time a picture of a man in a blue and black suit on a digital screen. ~ WE PAINT A PICTURE IF YOUR FUTURE. WAYNE TECH. THE FUTURE OF INNOVATIVE PROGRAMMING AND SECURITY TECHNOLOGY. INVEST TODAY. STAY SAFE, STAY SECURE. WITH WAYNE TECH.~

" Fuck, Dorothy... Todo is not impressed." The merc sighed. "Or, surprised."

Dick Grayson was the head of Wayne's network and right from what Slade saw, he had really let the place run down to shit in the Bat's absence.

On another world, somewhere far from his.

The real Dick was in danger of losing his identity. Slade walked on, knowing that if anyone knew his name here, it was as head of security for a literal tycoon and future dictator.

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So, short but foreshadowing. Might play with it. Find out in next arc fic.

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