Chapter Text
Dick's fingers drummed onto the dinner table. The kitchen now seemed to be the only place Slade, and he could feel comfortable with each other, so he mostly stayed here and in his own room with Rose. Slade had not asked him why he had abandoned the room they had slept in together. Maybe because it was clear. Slade still slept on the couch as well. It irked Dick because walking down the stairs forced him to pass the open doorway and see Slade before he made his way into the kitchen. Both rooms were connected to the entrance hall without a door. Sound carried, so he knew Slade would hear everything he did. His heartbeat. His breathing—the very blood rushing in his veins.
“I've been changing my mind, but the team will realize who I am anyway once we're in such close quarters," Dick said. Roy had figured it out, and Kaldur was even more perceptive. "It'll all fall together for them, every clue.” His resolve was wavering again, though. The worry choaked him. In his dreams every touch hurt. He swallowed. “It can only make this easier, right?”
He could not have sounded more uncertain if he had tried, and Roy would hit him square over the head if he knew.
“Neither option is easy,” Slade said after a short silence, Dick heard him cross his arms but kept his tired eyes closed and his head bedded on a hand while the fingers of his other hand carved into the wooden table. Feeling the surface steadied him.
“Were you only running circles in your mind or did you actually sleep?”
“I slept,” Dick said, stopping his fingers from beginning to tap once more, “a bit.”
“The more tired and nervous you are, the more they will blame it on me, especially Harper and Crook,” Slade told him, moving to leave for his office with his coffee. “Go back to bed. We still have a few hours before we need to leave.”
“I won’t be able to sleep even if I go to bed,” Dick pointed out, which was the truth, but even more so Slade had revoked the right to order him around when leaving him and keeping him drugged.
Dick's gaze stuck to the tabletop. Wintergreen had told him how much time had passed while he recovered from the worst, but to Dick it had been endless moment after endless moment. Even now the edges of his vision pushed against the limits of reality. The rushing in his head overtook the ticking of the clock.
Rose and Wintergreen were still asleep and with that the house silent, so the clatter forced him out of his trance-like state, and he blinked up at Slade before his gaze fell back onto the table.
“I’m not taking sleeping pills again,” Dick said, trying to back away, but he was caged from behind, Slade a looming presence over him. Dick forced himself not to sink further down as his skin prickled dangerously.
“I don’t care how you sleep, Dick, as long as you do. Giving them more they can hold against me will only make things worse. Harper already thinks I drug you to keep you obedient and your teammates saw you nearly die. You might forgive me but they won’t."
Dick swallowed down the anger.
Forgive. Forget. So, what if he did? What if he didn't?
“I slept enough , Slade. This is nothing. I have gone longer with less sleep.”
Slade spun him around easily, hands fixing him to the chair by his biceps the way Slade had done in those first hours of recovery, and Dick bared his teeth, feeling the need to hit him into his stupid face.
“You have barely slept for two weeks. Before that you were in a coma.”
“Oh, well, maybe you should have cared about that before now, Slade. It's easier to fake affection while playing the long con. You usually know.”
Slade's jaw jumped.
It was unfair for Slade to leave. It was unfair for Slade to be the only one that could save him even as he turned into a monster at night. Dick's brain still felt scrambled. It had felt as if he had been closing in on the snapping point for so long, but now he felt loose as if he had been pushed past it long ago. There was no wall anymore, simply a long sprawling field of emptiness. He was still resisting to be plugged out like a flower, but his roots lay detangled and exposed to the unbearable sun.
"We are done as soon as Wally is back. That's what you said, Slade," Dick smiled, looking through him, "The contract will be over. We'll be enemies again. You won't have anything to do with me. My team will survive seeing me like this for a few hours and so will you."
Slade's teeth ground together, but he finally let go, and Dick relaxed, hand slipping into his pocket, where he grabbed onto the little origami Rose had made so he could keep his fidgeting hands under control when the phantom touch of electricity pushed through his veins.
"It would be nice," Dick said, making his voice loud and clear before Slade could slink away, "if you pushed me away a little gentler."
Slade didn't say anything, but he lingered for a moment longer.
Instead of taking the sleeping drugs, Dick brewed himself a coffee too, sipping on it as his ears tried to pick up on any noise, imagined or not. He couldn't drink more than a few sips before his stomach rolled and the adrenaline turned too much.
Jittery, he stepped up the stairs, feeling like the shadows were closing in on him, claws carving up his back. He stopped at Slade's door, staring down at the corridor to where his new room lay. The hall seemed so long. The claws hooking into his skin would have disembodied him by the time he reached it. His head jerked up as he heard the rustling of paper out of Slade's office, which momentarily dispelled the vertigo.
Rose was still asleep in his room, sharing a bed with him because the presence of someone real dispelled the anxieties plaguing him, but the irrational fear of finding her gone crept up on him, nothing more than a fragile piece of origami waiting on his bed. Who said she had been real?
He pushed Slade's bedroom door open, almost stumbling in as a bout of sickness caught him. He stared down at the bed that had brought him so much pain and joy as his sight spun.
Dick grasped onto the soft blanket, fingers digging in deep. His skin was burning, the disembodied mouth at his neck was threatening to eat him whole as if he were nothing but a piece of algae drifting in a pond.
Fingers build a searing ring around his wrist, pulling his tilting body back against a warm chest. Dick heard his breathing, harsh and expansive. His stomach swooped as Slade picked him up to carry him the few steps around the bed. Dick pushed his face into his sternum, hands clawing into his back and neck as he tried to convince himself that his surroundings were real.
Slade sat down with him, brushing over the length of his body, taking the sting of pain away. Dick exhaled long and slow, sinking into him, dozing with his chin bedded on his shoulder, head tilting and heartbeat calming. Slade laid him down, their legs still half entangled. His forehead now rested against the broad shoulder.
"How long?" Dick murmured.
"I will wake you."
Dick tried to open his eyes again, but they felt too heavy. With Slade so close there were no hands ceaselessly trying to rip him apart. He could sleep as if he was drifting on a raft, until his adrenaline randomly spiked again, and he jolted up with his heart in his throat.
Dick held his chest. Slade's squeezed his hand, and Dick fell back against him.
"I'm sick of it," Dick said, pushing his face into the side of his throat, and Slade's jaw moved but there was nothing to say. Slade could merely hold him close and brush through his hair. Dick gazed down the strong chest, looking at him if only partially for the first time since they entered their room. His muscles relaxed as his mind accepted that Slade was truly with him.
It almost felt normal. So normal, Dick closed his eyes again and brushed his lips over the side of his neck, biting down enough for Slade to lock up, for fingers to press into his sculp. But there was no pulling, so Dick dragged his tongue up the tense throat right to his ear.
"You'll regret this," Slade said, speaking to the door and only then looking down at him with an intense eye as if Dick couldn't hear the growl in his voice. The pure want that had settled between them from the very first time was back so easily, but now he could see a self-loathing within Slade that had never been present before.
Dick almost laughed in the face of it as he cupped his cheek to lock their lips forcefully. His eyes fell shut again as hands grasped at him to make him fall into Slade's embrace.
"You want me to sleep? Let me loose myself in you," Dick murmured Slade's palm and fingers fanned over his cheek. He let the thumb slip into his mouth.
Slade looked just as tired as Dick felt, and Dick took his hand, kissing the tip of his index finger, brushing his lips into his palm before brushing it beneath his shirt up to his chest over his heart.
"Damn you, kid," Slade said softly, defenses gone. The cruel glint in sharp eyes made Dick's adrenaline spike again but pleasantly and this time the mouth on his neck brought heat instead of cold sweat. Unclawed hands forced him close, fingers pleasantly blunt. “Damn you,” Slade hissed a second curse, sounding lost.
Slade flipped him over, pressing him down the length of the bed. Dick stared up at the door with a gasp as Slade nipped at the thin skin below his jaw to bruise yet not aggravate the healing injury.
"No," Dick gasped out when Slade's hand wrapped around his cock. "Not like that."
Slade's forehead met his shoulder, body shaking with an emotion Slade didn't let him see, then he pulled back to get the lube. His eyes were more tumultuous than before, but his fingers were gentle even as he said: "Sometimes setting out to kill you seems like the easier deal, Dick."
"Hadn't noticed," Dick gasped mockingly, biting his lips when it made Slade gave a harsh thrust and returned an insistent mouth to his throat. Knees pushed his legs apart and then Slade was there, familiarly blunt and thick and insistent.
"You're so big," Dick gasped into his mouth and Slade groaned as he sank fully in.
"You're just tight."
Dick clawed into him, tears eventually falling, biting his hand, hyperaware of the door behind his head. Slade throned above him, fucking him as if it was almost more important to commit him to his memory than feel and then one hand let go of his ankle, taking in hand his cock. More flaccid than usual but not for lack of arousal.
Slade's breath hitched at the reminder that things weren't as before, but he turned a little less rushed, made Dick feel until he was hard enough to come.
Dick nuzzled beneath his chin. Feeling a little more real. Hand wandering down to take care of Slade, but his wrist was caught before he could more but graze the twitching length.
"You've been taking baths, haven't you?"
Dick hummed. The sounds of the shower reminded him too much of the wet collar.
"You're unhappy, Slade."
"I'm not."
Dick raised a challenging eyebrow at the anger that greeted him as he looked up. It lessened a little as Slade gazed at his throat, the outline of the collar burned into his skin, bullet wound only visible to the trained eye.
"Get in the bath and dress yourself... It's going to be a long day," Slade said and Dick felt exhaustion settle back in as Slade stood up, but at least the house was more alive by now, Wintergreen and Rose talking below. He turned on the little radio in the bathroom to make himself a full tub. The aroma scents Rose had gotten for him calmed his nerves and he stepped out of the bath more refreshed if unsure. Rose helped him apply makeup to his throat and under eyes before they finally left.
On the road, Dick managed to sleep even though he was hyper aware of how much Slade was gritting his teeth. He didn't know what had set him so on edge. It couldn't have been their tryst. Sex was the least of their problems.
They arrived in a non-descript warehouse by the time night was breaking. It would be their meeting point. Dick had dozed through the ride more calmly than at home and shook out his limbs as he escaped the car. Slade stayed silent, navigating them through the warehouse between stacked containers. They had decided it would be best to meet near Cheshire's safe house again just so the team would feel safer. Hopefully.
The warehouse thankfully felt unoppressive to Dick. While the shipping containers were huge, they were also colorful, and he felt the ripples of their uneven surface as he followed Slade through the labyrinth.
They took position against different containers, and Dick found himself watching him. Slade's anger had seemed fleeting but now it was back. Even so, it helped Dick keep from focusing on the moving shadows as his anxiety ramped up again.
Dick ripped his gaze from the cinema playing out in the shadows as he noticed his drifting attention. Suddenly the warehouse seemed so small and oppressive. He pushed away from the container to touch the curled-up Kevlar-clad biceps. Slade's gaze fell down to where they were connected, mouth still a straight line.
You're suddenly awfully nonchalant about what my teammates might think. They won't appreciate your anger , Dick wrote in morse code.
"Don't be so trusting, kid."
Dick raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you make me believe in you," he mouthed, making Slade's teeth grind. Dick pressed his face into the armor, keeping Slade from running no matter how much Dick knew he wanted to try to pull away. I electrocuted myself, Slade. The scar is not your fault. Neither are the hallucinations, he continued in morse code, hesitating at the last part. I just want you to be here for me.
"I'll never be," Slade hissed but given the words caressed against his hair, they felt like a lie no matter how much Slade was trying to push the knowledge through his skull. The problem was that Slade had been there. A lot. Every time Slade had fucked up, he'd stayed for the aftermath except this last one. So, what had changed? Was it truly the fact that it would all be over soon? Could Slade simply flip the switch and treat him like an enemy with benefits once more?
"Wilson," Roy's voice growled as he emerged from the dark, eyeing the hand Dick had beneath his biceps with disdain. The others followed from multiple sides, and Dick felt his stomach twist again. His breath shortened and his heart stuttered.
Roy, Jade, Jason. Artemis, Kaldur, Tim and Bart. He had not expected more than Artemis and Kaldur to join them, but the four of them deserved to know the truth.
“This is the company you keep now, Arsenal?” Artemis asked, looking at Slade as if he was the most disgusting thing she had ever seen. Kaldur frowned, a less judgmentally. Tim and Bart stood close together, trying to be still but fidgeting. Tim surprisingly so. His helplessness was apparent, and Dick's heart mellowed, body language opening as he directed his attention to the two younger heroes. He could feel Slade starting to curse him, trying to hold him back with a touch to his hip but Dick knew what he was doing. It was time.
"Let me explain," he said, brushing off his mask.
Tim grew white as a sheet before he had even finished, boo-staff clattering to the floor as his little brother leaped into his arms. Dick held him close for a moment, chuckling as Tim fiercely whispered: "I knew it was you who saved me."
Then Dick addressed the room as Tim sheepishly pulled a few inches away, picking up his weapon of choice.
Kaldur gave him a small smile. Artemis looked ready to strangle him—gently because she knew how much damage his throat had taken.
"You've been invited to this get-together because we all have the same mission. Wally is our top priority, and we now know how to get him back."
"You're such a goddamn, dumbfuck," Artemis seethed. "What are you doing?" she ended with a hint of despair. Her voice was wet. Artemis would do anything to get Wally back except by hurting her friends, not again.
Dick ignored the cursing. "Luthor has come too far in his research for us to ignore it. There was no way an outside attack would have worked, but we couldn't let you win. Luthor threatened Slade's daughter."
Artemis pursed her lips but given her own father she accepted Slade's decision to protect his daughter instead of putting her in harm’s way.
"We expected fighting Deathstroke to be too easy," Kaldur piped in, having identified the problem. "How long have you been working together with him?"
Dick bit his tongue, unable to ignore all the piercing gazes. "Sla—Deathstroke was already part of the undercover plan when you and Artemis joined the Light. All enforcers in the same place and united would have spelled bad news for you."
Jade let out a short whistle. "Didn't know that. Who's whose lapdog, I wonder?" she asked with a grin, and Dick could practically hear Slade roll his eye. Roy looked at her in disgust.
"But why bring us in now? For this?" Bart asked, sending a long suspicious glance at Jason who stared at him quietly but with a certain interest. Dick was sure the biting remark would eventually come but for now their conversation was surprisingly civil.
"We have the hardware to split dimensions open, and we have the data which needs to be programmed in. Maybe a chip automating the process can be constructed in time. Our date to bring Wally back is the second Sunday of March 2017. We have two times in which the speed force proportionally synchs up with the speed of our universe at 10:15:15 and 16:09:09. To reach through the barrier and bring someone back, we need someone strong enough. An enraged Super."
"That's why Luthor had those Bizarros ready? We were test subjects?" Tim asked and Dick nodded.
"He's trying to bend reality on his own, but the Bizzarros are too volatile for such a tight time frame. He hasn't gotten there yet. He might want to use them against Clark or Conner."
"How do you know a Super can actually reach through reality?" Kaldur asked.
“Connor punched through reality on one of our missions. It brought someone else back,” Dick said, gazing at Jason who raised his own eyes, sardonic smile appearing on his lips by the sound of his voice as he said: "Nice of you to remember me, big brother."
“I’m just going to tell you,” Jason said, grinning at Artemis as he pulled off his helmet. “Your speedster might have a screw or two loose. Not sure what did it, though: The way I died, the way I was resurrected or the thing about being thrown into the Lazarus Pit."
“It’s probably you,” Cheshire quipped before Artemis could get her own verbal right hook in.
Kaldur's voice speared through their yapping. "A super punch won't come from nothing. How do you propose making them that angry?"
Dick glanced at Slade, then back at their audience. "We have the perfect set up to force Clark or Conner into a rage."
"No," Roy said immediately. "Fuck, no, Dick. You're not going to let yourself be hurt again."
Dick licked his lips. "I trust Slade. I'm already in this position, bringing somebody else in would be a disaster. All we need to do is simulate that Slade is still working on behalf of Lex Luthor. Conner wouldn't want Wally to end as an experiment of Luthor's, neither would Clark, but Clark means the League will follow and we can't have that."
"So you will only be the hostage if the truth about Luthor’s plans isn't enough for them to fly into a rage."
"Yes."
"No mind stuff," Artemis said.
"No mind stuff," Dick replied. "I'm all for other ideas, but this is what will work, especially without M'gann having to manipulate her boyfriend's feelings."
Nobody gave him contra even though their faces showed they wanted to.
“So, how do you keep him loyal, Dick?" Jason asked, "What else are you giving apart from training Rose? Do I have to tell Daddy that you are gonna bring some corpses to his door now too?”
Dick smiled, sharp. "No. I’m an idealistic ray of sunshine. Your words, remember?"
Jason narrowed his eyes, but it was Kaldur who made it worse: "What did you pay for us? Not for Wally.”
Dick stared at him, opening his mouth to close it again. Shit. Shit. ShitShitShitShit.
“You can tell them about him,” Slade said calmly before the rising tension could overflow. Dick glanced at him. He had no idea what Slade wanted from him.
“But,” he started, knowing he would have to say something, throw me a bone .
“It’s not as if Joey is a well-kept secret.”
Dick felt relief. Of course.
“He is still your son,” he said uneasily and let his gaze travel over his friends.
“You have a son too?” Kaldur asked suspiciously, and Slade took the conversation into his own hands.
“He lives with my ex-wife. We are not on good terms,” Slade said. “I watched you under the condition that Dick would set up a meeting without his mother knowing.”
“You forced your friend to meet with his father in exchange for our lives?” Artemis asked disbelievingly, anger roughing her words. Dick shook his head, knowing full well that she would have loved someone to take her away from her own father.
“Joey wanted to see him again. Adeline didn't allow it. It's complicated. With Rose too.”
"I'm starting to see that," Artemis said, clearly suspicious of the mercenary, but she trusted his words, at least enough to not pursue his reasoning further. Both parents were using their children in equal measure but at least Slade was being forced to learn better. Dick just couldn't explain how.
“You will prep the team and help?” he asked, meeting all of their gazes one by one.
“Do you want to keep this hidden from the others?” Tim asked. He had not strayed from his side and only now did Dick realize that Tim had been watching Slade the whole time.
“I would prefer to,” he admitted, and Kaldur nodded his agreement.
“You are really going to make us leave you with him?” Artemis asked, arms crossed, and Dick ruffled through Tim’s hair for one last time before gently pushing him towards Kaldur.
“My payment isn’t over yet,” he said, “and if I disappear so soon Luthor will hunt me down. His attention is the worst we could get.”
Artemis sighed, and Cheshire clasped her shoulder. They left the room together. Kaldur, Tim and Bart followed while Roy and Jason stayed behind for a moment.
"We'll be in contact. I want to speak with Dick, not just with you, Wilson. Otherwise, I’ll shove that contract up your butt, Deathstroke."
Slade eyed him and then drawled: "Noted, Harper."
Jason smiled. "There will be a lot of change waiting for you in Gotham."
“I'll be sure to kick your ass once I'm back. I haven't forgiven you,” Dick replied.
Jason grinned but gave Slade one last glance before he was gone too.
Dick stayed alert for a while longer, then relaxed when none of them returned. The weight of hiding had fallen off his shoulders, and he could not stop the smile from blooming on his face as he turned to Slade. They weren't going to abandon him. They had accepted his proposal. It would be alright. Wally would finally return to them. This hadn't been for nothing. He might have been uprooted but he could burry his roots again ever so slowly.
Dick looked up at Slade as a hand touched his shoulder. Silent tears of relief slipped down his face and he hugged Slade, pressing himself close as his harshening breathing turned into quiet sobs.
"Dick—" Slade cut himself off when he felt his tears on his neck.
“Thank you,” Dick murmured, clawing into the strong and steady body. "Thank you, Slade," Dick reiterated, lips twitching as he looked up into the tumultuous and pained eye. "I'm sorry it's not the phrase that gets you hard."
Slade's breath stopped mid-intake, and Dick laughed as he felt stupidly in love with his enemy. It should have been him crossing the distance, instead Slade hoisted him up and spun him around to press him against the container. Dick's hand grabbed one of the broad shoulders that carried a weight he could not understand to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. A little desperate noise escaped his mouth, and Slade pushed their bodies closer with an arm around his waist, his hand coming down to squeeze his ass.
Their lips hovered over each other, hot breath against their skin. Dick clawed into him when Slade nipped at his throat, teeth crazing the sensitive spot as a spark of hot and cold want twitched through his body. Slade's hand pressed over the spot Slade had bitten at during that shower at Luthor's.
"Damn you, kid," Slade said a third time that day. Slade's strength was enough to make Dick feel the hand slipping to his crotch even through the protector. The thought of dented plastic caging his cock turned him on beyond belief as he nipped at Slade's lips.
"Don't you know you still have to settle your debt?" Slade half moaned into his mouth before their lips broke apart. Dick gazed up at him, comprehension lagging behind as Slade closed off in front of him. Dick's arms lost their strength. It was silent in the room safe for his rough breathing.
Slade's fingers contouring his cheeks felt like glass shards against his skin.
"What?" he finally croaked, voice breaking in his throat. Slade answered by opening the latch of the container he was pressed against to push him in, revealing a bound and gagged man at the other end, blindfold over his eyes and ears deafened.
Dick was too slow to step away from Slade, too off kilter to really try, and found himself with his knees on the floor as the door fell into its lock. One of his arms was pressed up behind his back to keep him down. His breath was faster now, labored.
“No.”
"I let you train Rose to train you, Dick. This is your final lesson.”
“Slade—” Dick's hairs rose as the barrel of the gun found the nape of his neck with a telltale click.
"Take your gun out of its holster."
He shook his head slowly, then faster even as he felt the metal against his neck. Tears burned in his eyes again. This time they fell faster.
"If you don't, I will shoot. Into his legs. His arms. Take an ear off. He won't die until you shoot him dead.."
"No," Dick whispered, closing his eyes, and flinching as the first bullet sank into the flesh of the prisoner. The warm barrel pressed into his cheek as Slade prepared for a second shot.
"Take. It. Now. "
Another shot rang out, and Dick shakily gripped for the weapon on his hip, pulling off the safety, and Slade shifted behind him, going into a crouch
"Good boy," the low purr went right through him, hurt so much Dick could not describe the feeling in his chest. Last, he had felt this despair was when he had found out that Wally was truly gone.
He craned his head to look at Slade, only seeing Deathstroke where before had been thinly hidden concern or maybe a good actor. His lips pressed together. His skin grew tighter.
"Slade, don't," he ordered, baring his teeth in a final attempt to take back control.
Slade's eye narrowed, cold, calculating—and Dick moved back at the same time Slade barreled forward. Where he had to turn, Slade was free to shoot straight, but Dick's gun pressed into the glinting shards of armor, and his shot hit the mark. How could it not when Slade was so near? But he also heard the other shot, the one from Slade, precise as ever, ripping through innocent flesh as both sides of the container were painted red.