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Chapter Text

Jason can tell the apartment’s freezing without having to get out of bed.  He turns into Slade and buries his face into his chest.  “You should make me some coffee.”

Slade’s arm wraps around his waist.  “I think you should make me some coffee.  You never pamper me.”

“Lies,” Jason replies.  “Lies and slander.”  He hikes the quilt up higher so the lower half of his face is protected from the chill of the apartment.  “And, also, I very clearly told you to turn the heat on last night, which you very clearly did not do.  So, it’s your fault I have no motivation to get out of bed.”

“No,” Slade argues, even as his arm drags Jason in closer.  “We agreed not to turn on the heat because you wanted to move safe houses today, remember?  And why spend the energy it’d take to heat the apartment if we’re just leaving in the morning?  You remember that conversation?”

“No,” Jason replies.  “I do not remember ever being that dumb or shortsighted in my entire life.  Clearly, this conversation only happened in your head, and now you’re blaming me for it, which is awful behavior from a fiance.”

Because they are. Fiances.  Which is something Jason never thought he'd have.  And even more ridiculous is to have it with Slade.  But here they are.  And he's happy.  Ridiculously, heart-wrenchingly happy.  He wouldn't change it for the world. 

“You know what else is awful behavior from a fiance?  Gaslighting,” Slade says before kissing Jason’s forehead.  

“Mm.  Gaslighting.  What’s that?”

“That’s when you decide to be a little shit on purpose,” Slade answers.   

“Ah.  And that gets me closer to coffee how?” 

“I couldn’t say.”

“Then I can’t see why I would ever do that to you.”  Jason kisses Slade’s chest.  “I’m much too good of a fiance to be doing something like that.”

“I honestly don’t think you’re capable of being anything but a little shit,” Slade answers with a smile. 

“You're such a sweet talker,” Jason murmurs.  “The only thing that could make this morning better is some coffee.”

“Yes,” Slade readily agrees.  “You should go make us some.  Then come back to bed so I can thank you properly.”

“Oh?” Jason asks, raising an eyebrow as his smile grows.  “You sweetening the pot?  What kind of thank you?  I might be persuaded to get up for the right price.”

Slade smiles back.  “Well,” he drawls, “I think I would owe a lot to the hero who brought me some coffee, but there are some specifics that come to mind.”

“Mmhm,” Jason hums.  “What kind of specifics?”

“Well, first, I’d-”

“Hey, guys?  Are you up?  I can’t figure out your coffee machine.”

Jason tenses as Slade turns to glare at the door.  “What the fuck is Dick doing in our apartment?” he hisses.

“Don’t ask me,” Slade spits.  “ I didn’t invite him.”

“Oh, don’t say that like I’m the one that invited him,” Jason snaps.  “He’s not even supposed to know about this place.”

“I thought you were supposed to talk to Oracle about keeping things to herself,” Slade says.

“I did!” Jason hisses back.  He glances at the door before he focuses back on Slade.  “He must have found out some other way.  Roy, maybe?”

“I told you we should’ve had him over for dinner at our place on Lefferson.”

“Lefferson has no free counter space.  None!  How the fuck am I supposed to cook in that environment?” Jason asks.

There’s a knock on their bedroom door before the doorknob’s turning.  “Hey, guys,” Dick says.  “You’re awake, right?  I can hear your muttering.”  He pokes his head through the door. 

Jason throws a pillow at him.  “Get the fuck out.  I’m trying to get my dick wet and you’re ruining it!”

“Oh, jeez!  Sorry!” Dick answers before snapping the door closed.  But he doesn’t actually leave.  “Sorry!  I just needed some coffee, and I left my wallet at home, and I’m really tired, so I shouldn’t be driving, but your place was the only close one.  And I really just need some coffee, but I can’t figure out your machine.”

Jason’s head slumps against the mattress, since his pillow is now leaning against their bedroom door.  “I’m going to fucking strangle him,” he whispers to Slade.  “I’m going to strangle him, and then I’m going to dump his body in the harbor, and then I’m going to celebrate his death with vodka and party streamers.”

“You come up with the best ideas,” Slade murmurs even as Jason rips up the blankets covering him and rolls out of bed.  

“I’m going to fucking murder you, Dickie!” Jason calls through the door as he fumbles around looking for his pants.  He shivers.  “It’s cold as fucking balls in here,” he hisses to Slade.  

Slade turns so he’s lying on his back.  “Your fault,” he reminds him.  “You going to bring me back some coffee?”

Jason nods as he slips on some sweatpants.  “Yes, I will bring you back some coffee.  And then I’m going to throw it in your face because I fucking hate you for not turning on the heat last night.”

Slade chuckles.  “Love you too, dear.”

“You owe me a blow job as soon as Dick leaves,” Jason grumbles as he moves to the door. 

“Whatever you’d like, hunny.”

TBC

Chapter Text

“You aren't sneaking in,” Slade says, his voice strong and sure. 

Jason looks up from where he's been going through their target’s employees.  They all look remarkably like him.  He scoots the top photograph towards Slade, just in case he hasn't seen it.  “It looks like they're practically asking me to sneak in,” he says.  “Would be easy enough.  Steal a uniform, and I doubt anyone would look twice at me.”

Slade glares at him.  “Right.  No one would look twice at you.  Except our target, who's clearly using his employee pool to look for a nice fuck.  No.”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “I'd be there for less than a day.  Just enough to scope it out.  It won't be enough time to catch his attention.” He crosses his arms and glares back.  “What's your alternative?” he asks, well aware that there isn't one.  

“We walk in as potential investors, and then shoot him between his beady little eyes,” Slade offers.  “Nice and clean.”

“Right,” Jason answers with a frown.  “And maybe if we weren’t in Gotham that'd be a good idea-”

“It most definitely would be a good idea,” Slade interrupts. 

“Except we are in Gotham,” Jason continues, speaking over him.  “So there's nothing simple or easy about killing.  It'll bring the Bat down on our heads.” 

Slade sighs.  “Can't you just say sorry after the fact and agree to dinner with him or something?  You know the sad sack is starved for attention.  No reason we can't use it to our advantage.”

“He already thinks you're a bad influence,” Jason snaps.  “I'm not giving him more reason to think that.  No killing.”

“Well, you aren't infiltrating,” Shade answers back, just as sternly.

Jason grits his teeth.  “Fine.  You infiltrate then.  What the fuck ever.  We just need to get blueprints on this stupid bitch.” He gestures to the most current blueprint they have of the building in question, which is over fifty years old and absolutely can't be trusted.

Slade frowns down at the photos of Jason look alikes: all with dark hair, broad shoulders, and looking fresh out of high school.  Slade only has one of those features, and it typically gets overlooked in exchange for his tall stature.  “That's probably not going to work,” he admits quietly.

Jason uses his fantastic and unrivaled willpower to stop himself from strangling Slade.  “I'm waiting to hear an alternative. A good one," he continues when Slade doesn't say anything.  “There are two ways to get in: either as an employee or as a customer.  If employee is off the table, then we're really only left with one other option.”

“What if we don't go in at all, and we force them to come to us?” Slade replies.  He has none of his usual confidence and it instantly makes Jason feel wrong-footed. 

“I'm listening,” Jay replies instead of asking why Slade seems so worried about his plan. 

“Our objective is Toby Martins.  That's all.  And while he rarely ever leaves his club, that doesn't mean he never does,” Slade says.  “If we can force a scenario where he's forced to leave, then it doesn't matter if we know what the building looks like on the inside.  We can just shoot him out on the street like the dog he is.”

“Set the place on fire,” Jason suggests, because there's nothing like a fire to chase someone out of a building.  “Headshot him when he runs out of the fire, then dump his body back into the fire so his death can't be traced back to us.”

Shade smirks.  “Faster than sneaking in.”

“Overly flashy for you, isn't it?” But Jason's fighting a smile even as he asks.  He'd rather not be doing this in Gotham, where Bruce could potentially find out and get all lecture-y about it.  But it's been awhile since he and Slade have caused some real devastation.  He's missed it.

Slade seems to take his smile as agreement because he stops trying to convince him and starts looking at the best sniper spots around the building. 

Two days later they're staring at a burning building, their target thrown into the front reception area with a bullet in the middle of his forehead.  

And Jason knows that it's too soon to know if the Bats are going to find out about this, but so far no one's breathing down his neck about murder being wrong.  He'll enjoy it while he can 

“It's kind of romantic, right?” Jason asks quietly, sitting on a rooftop, leaning into Slade, and watching the fire of a burning building as yesterday's snow sparkles in the firelight. 

Slade gives him a soft smile and wraps an arm around his shoulders.  “I wouldn't want to be anywhere else,” he tells him quietly. 

“Sap,” Jason accuses with a smile, despite the fact that he very much agrees.

Tbc

Chapter Text

“Was that a witch?” Slade asks, voice deadpan as he stares ahead at where a woman had just disappeared in a puff of smoke.  

“Eh, I don’t think so?  It’s a common misconception that witches have to be girls, or that all females that have magic are witches.  I think witches are more like … nature magic?” Jason replies.  He lifts the hand that is now stuck to Slade’s.  “This isn’t what I would call qualifying as nature.”  He frowns at their hands before dropping them back down.  “I think she was a mage, maybe?”

“That wasn’t really the point of my question.”

Jason shrugs.  “Well, your question felt a little sexist.  You shouldn’t assume magic archetypes based on gender.”

Slade waves at the spot where the woman who had cursed their hands together disappeared.  “Good thing she’s not here to be offended then.  That would have been embarrassing.”

Jason snorts.  “Yeah, I’m sure you would’ve felt just awful about it.”  He tugs on the hand that’s stuck to Slade’s.  “Guess I should call John.”

Slade growls.  “Constantine,” he corrects.  “I'm sure there's someone else we can call.”

“Slade,” Jason sighs.  “I know you don't like him, but he's going to be the fastest help we can get.”

“Yes, I'm sure he'll come as soon as you call,” Slade agrees.  “Because he wants to have sex with you.”  He glares over at Jason.  “And you indulge him.”

“I do not,” Jason huffs.  “That's just how he acts.”

“Because he wants to have sex with everyone,” Slade snaps.  “That doesn't mean you should encourage him like you do.”

“I don't encourage him,” Jason argues.  “And if he knows it makes you uncomfortable he's just going to do it more.”

“He already does know it makes me uncomfortable,” Slade points out.  “What he seems to not know is that I don't have any problem killing him if he so much as looks at you like-”

“Slade!” Jason snaps before sighing.  He lifts up the hand stuck to Slade’s, aborts the move, and then uses his other hand to sweep through his hair.  “Who do we have besides John?  Someone that isn't going to keep us waiting for days because they've got more important shit going on?” He lifts their hands up again.  “Cause, while this is annoying, no one's going to deem it an emergency.”

“It is an emergency,” Slade argues.  “I have a contact coming up in two days, and I can't work with one hand.”

“Well, that's just another reason to call John, isn't it?” Jason asks, too smug for his own good.

“He figures this out tonight,” Slade says like he’s giving an ultimatum, even though they both know he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.  “I don’t want him staying with us.”

Jason rolls his eyes as he fishes out his phone.  “He portals,” he reminds Slade.  “Even if this takes more than a night to fix, he won’t be staying with us.  I’m sure he’d appreciate his own bed over our lumpy couch.”

“I’m sure he’d decide to sleep on our shit couch just to annoy me,” Slade returns.  

“So don’t tell him it’ll annoy you,” Jason advises as he focuses on typing on his phone.  

“He's going to know whether I tell him or not,” Slade grumbles.  He goes to cross his arms but drops them when he remembers that their hands are stuck together.  “This is such bullshit.  We weren't even working.”

It's true.  They're both dressed as civilians, bundled up in winter coats and scarves to ward against the cold winds that run through Gotham.  How they managed to piss off a witch is beyond the both of them.  They hadn't even talked to her before she was cursing them both.

“He says five minutes,” Jason announces over Slade’s grumbling.  “Try your best not to growl at him.”

“I won't growl at him if he doesn't smirk at me,” Slade growls, glaring at Jason. 

Jason rolls his eyes. “You're impossible.”

Slade doesn't get a chance to argue his case, because Constantine doesn't take five minutes.  He takes thirty seconds.  A portal opens just to the right of Jason. 

Slade pulls him behind him, so he's the one right in front of the portal. 

“Hello, luv!” Constantine greets with a smile before he's fully out of the portal and sees it's Slade.  The smile quickly turns to a frown.  “Hm.  Still together then?”

“Engaged now,” Slade growls. 

“Hey John!” Jason greets with a sigh and a wave.  “We ran into a little bit of a problem.”  He holds up the hand cemented to Slade’s.  “Think you can help us out?”

Constantine grabs onto the hands and lightly tries to pull them apart.  “Hm.”

Slade doesn't miss the way he's caressing Jason's hand.  He wants to shoot him, but he does need to make it to his job on time.  Jason's right, as much as Slade hates to admit it.  Constantine is their only hope for getting this resolved fast.  And if Slade kills him, the rest of the magical community is probably going to have certain feelings about it.  They’re surprisingly protective of each other.

“We'll need some ingredients,” Constantine mutters.  “A demon's tooth.  A sheep's horn.  And some mage’s blood.” He looks up at Jason and grins.  “Should be easy, with your help. Mage's blood can be yours.” He trails his fingers up Jason's forearm and Slade growls.  Constantine smirks at him. 

“Can it really?” Jason asks, after shooting a look at Slade.  “I'm not exactly magic.”

Constantine shrugs.  “Magic enough, darling.  Trust me.”

“Where do we get the other two things?” Slade asks, trying and failing to keep the glare off his face. 

Constantine smirks at him.  “The sheep’s horn we can probably buy.  The demon's tooth we'll have to get fresh, but with my expertise and your boy’s help I'm sure we can make short work of it.”

“Sure,” Jason agrees before Slade can say anything.  “Not sure how much help I'll be though.” He holds up Slade's hand.  “I've kinda only got one working hand.”

Constantine looks at Slade and frowns.  “Yes.  Normal weapons don't work on demons, and I'm afraid our friend here doesn't have a penchant for magic.”

“We aren't friends.”

“Slade,” Jason sighs.  “Can you not be difficult about this please?” He turns towards John.  “Sheep's horn first.  Then we'll go look for a demon.  Let's just hope it's some minor thing I can take with one hand.”

John grins at him and squeezes his arm.  “No worries, luv.  I'll be there too, of course.  With the two of us we'll be able to handle whatever we find.”

Slade grinds his teeth. 

Turns out, Gotham has a pretty extensive magic shop hidden in the basement of a rundown bar.  Jason has to pester him so they go right into the shop instead of stopping for a pint.

They then pay way too much for what looks like a perfectly ordinary horn.  But John insists they won't find it anywhere else in Gotham, and that it's a fairly normal price for them. 

Then Jason has to pull John back out of the bar so they don't waste time getting drunk.  Slade is getting more irritated by the second, and John thinks the whole thing is funny.  Jason wishes he could tell John to back off, but John's never been one to follow rules.  Jason knows that it'd be useless, so he just does his best to roll with it.  He leans into Slade's side as often as he can and hopes that's enough to keep him from killing John. 

John grins at him as soon as they're back out onto the street.  “Now it's the time to bag us a demon, luv.” He takes out a familiar looking pendulum and dangles it above his open palm.  “This should latch onto the nearest demonic presence and guide us there.”

Jason nods and presses into Slade's side.  “And I'm guessing there's no way to gauge how powerful they are?”

“Nah,” John answers.  “I'm afraid it's a bit of a crap shoot.  But Gotham's a strong enough city to keep most of the big bads away.  We shouldn't run into anything too tough within the city limits.”

Jason nods again and follows behind John who's following the pendulum.  

They find a demon a few blocks over, but it runs instead of attacks. 

Jason takes off after it, pulling Slade behind him before Slade seems to realize what's going on and matches his pace.  Running becomes a lot easier after that. 

“Remember to take a tooth before you kill it!” John yells from behind them, walking instead of running.  “If you kill it, then it'll turn into dust, and then no tooth.”

“We know how demons work,” Slade growls before running forward and tackling the thing, Jason stumbling behind him. 

“Do we?” Jason asks, looking from the squirming demon snarling underneath Slade to John's relaxed form still walking towards them.  “How do I take out a tooth without getting bitten?”

“That's just a bit of light magic work,” John says, waving his arms in front of him until he's suddenly holding a fang.  “You can kill him now.  Probably cause a big fuss if we don't.”

Jason conjures a single All Blade in his free hand and stabs the thing through the chest.  It explodes into dust.  “Now you just need some blood, right?” His magical blade disappears and he holds the same arm out to Slade. 

“I'm not cutting you,” Slade answers, glancing at the arm.  He hands a blade to Constantine.  “He's the one that needs the blood, so he can do the dirty work.”  He turns to face the other man, a glare prominent on his face.  “But if he ends up needing so much as a single stitch, I will rip your head off your body.”

Constantine lifts both his hands up in surrender, one of which is loosely holding Slade’s knife.  “Not to worry, luv.  Just need a couple drops is all.”

It is only a few drops, and they make short work of it.  Then Constantine tells them that their glued hands are a simple prank spell and a quick chant can expel it.  He needed the ingredients for the job they'd just pulled him away from. 

“Needed to make sure I'd be paid this time, you understand.”

He escapes through a portal before Slade has the chance to wring his neck, both hands now free to do exactly that. 

TBC

Chapter Text

“We can stay here as we plan,” Slade says as he forces open the door to a lonely cabin in the middle of the woods.

Jason drops his duffle bag near the bed in the corner and looks around.  There are a few kitchen cabinets, a fridge, and an old-fashioned stove on the other side of the room.  Next to the bed is a large fireplace.  And a few feet away from the fireplace rests a couch.  There are three other doors, besides the one they came in through, but given the layout of the room, Jason guesses they're bathrooms and closets as opposed to something like a bedroom.  “Single room cabin?” he asks, turning towards Slade.  He hasn't been to this place yet, but Slade had told him about it.  He expected it to be bigger. 

Slade nods.  “Closet,” he says, pointing towards the closed door nearest to him.  “Bathroom.” He points to the closed door closest to the bed.  “And backdoor.” He points to the door across the room from him.

“Mhm.”  Jason presses his leather jacket tighter against him.  The walls of the cabin are doing a good job of keeping out the wind, but the cabin is still freezing.  “And please tell me it has central heating.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Slade answers, striding across the room to drop his own duffle bag by the bed.  “But there's a woodpile outside and the fireplace doesn't do too bad a job heating up the place.”

“Yeah? And how long does something like that take?” Jason looks towards the bed, debating whether to rip off the quilt and bundle himself up in it.  Slade's at his back with his arms winding around him before he can make a move towards doing exactly that. 

“However long it takes,” Slade answers, his hot breath on Jason's neck.  “We can use body heat to keep warm as we wait.”

Jason leans back against him.  “I need to sit at the table to work out these plans.”

Slade slips one of his hands into Jason's jacket so he can rub at his chest.  He kisses the top of his head.  “So sit on my lap then.”

Jason shivers.  He blames it on Slade’s cold hand as opposed to that same hand rubbing against one of his nipples.  “You're going to distract me.”

“Ah.  So you've caught on to my plan then.”  Slade smirks into Jason's hair. 

“Which I would normally be all for,” Jason answers.  “Except the more you distract me, the longer it's going to take me to work out our plans, and we're working with a tight timeline.”

“Mmm. Don't have to tell me that,” Slade replies, tightening his arms around Jason.  “It's my contract.  But if we run out of time, we can just do something quick and dirty.”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “I'm only here because this is supposed to be data retrieval only.  No killing, remember?”

“I can do quick and dirty without killing anyone.”

“Don't pout,” Jason huffs, knowing Slade’s pouting without having to see it.  “And quick and dirty with no murder just makes it more dangerous for us, so no.  You're going to go out and get the firewood, and then you're going to behave yourself as I go over these blueprints.”

“Yes, dear,” Slade answers before he's pulling away and heading towards the backdoor. 

Jason does get talked into sitting on Slade's lap while he goes over possible routes into their target's cabin.  But, if asked, Jason only lets it happen because it's freezing.  Slade does not behave himself, but Jason has more or less of a plan put together before Slade’s behavior results in any disappearing pants.  By that point, the cabin’s warm enough to tolerate clothing removal.  Even though by the time Slade's done with him, the fire’s down and Jason's shivering again. 

Slade shepherds Jason into bed, under the covers.  He kisses his forehead before he puts on pants and boots and heads back outside for more firewood.  With no coat, no shirt, and no hat.  And no gloves, even though the woodpile outside must be covered in snow.  Because he's an idiot.  

“If you get frostbite and we end up having to cut off some of your fingers you aren't going to be nearly as attractive,” Jason tells him as soon as Slade reenters the house, cradling a pile of wood. 

“Advanced healing,” Slade answers, not sounding too worried.  He strolls over to the fire and starts working on building it back up. 

“Advanced healing does not mean immune,” Jason grumbles, sliding farther into the blankets to ward off the cold Slade has just brought in with him.  

“It means I'm not as sensitive as you,” Slade answers.  He glances over at Jason and smirks as he leers.  “Not that I have any problem with how sensitive you are.”

Jason blushes and hides his face in the covers.  “Mhm, yeah, thanks,” he mutters over Slade's laughter.  “You wanna hear how we're getting this data you need or not?”  He pokes his head back out to Slade giving him a soft smile. 

“Course I do,” Slade answers, standing from the fireplace and toeing his boots off.  “But scoot over first.” He drops his pants as he approaches the bed, and Jason dutifully moves over.  Slade slides in, pulling Jason on top of him. 

Jason shivers.  “You're fucking cold,” he hisses. 

“Body heat,” Slade replies with a smirk.  “You'll warm me up in a second.  So … plans?”

“His place is built like this one: no central heat,” Jason answers, glaring down at Slade.  “Which is a terrible design when we live in the twenty-first century.”

Slade shrugs.  “I'm an old man and sometimes I like going back to my roots.  Though, in my defense, I had planned on taking you here in fall, not in the deadass middle of winter.”

Jason repositions himself so he has more contact with Slade’s now-warm skin.  “Yeah, let's never do this again,” he mutters.  

“Should I remind you how much we're getting paid for this?”

“I remember,” Jason answers, rolling his eyes before getting back to business.  “If that cabin also doesn't have any central heat, then all we've gotta do is clog the chimney.  Smoke him out.  When he leaves to find other accommodations - because I also notice there's not any service out here in the middle of nowhere - we'll go in and steal the data we need.”

“Remind me to never take you camping,” Slade says, running a hand through Jason's hair. 

“Camping's fine.  So long as it's not in the middle of winter and we actually have cell service.”

“Noted,” Slade answers.  “Now, put on some pants.  No time like the present to try out this plan of yours.  If it works we can leave by tomorrow morning.”

It's enough motivation to get Jason rolling out of bed and into some clothes.  

They leave the next morning, the cabin once again freezing thanks to their fire going out while they were sleeping.  But they have the information they need, and, with any luck, Jason will never have to spend a winter night in one of Slade's old-fashioned log cabins again.  

Tbc 

Chapter Text

Jason had promised to spend tonight in.  Which is something he really doesn't like to do while he’s in Gotham, but Slade had begged - on his knees, with his mouth - and Jason's too weak of a man to tell him no. 

But the sun had set two hours ago.  On a regular night he'd be getting ready to head out by now, if he wasn't already running his route.  And, yet, he finds himself alone in his apartment.  

He thinks for a second that Slade’s performing some type of unsavory hit within Gotham and wants Jason to stay home so he'd have deniability. 

Except Slade would have explained if that were the case.

Jason sets his book down on the coffee table and glances at the clock again.  He does the math in his head.  Slade had left over eight hours ago with very little to say aside from the fact that Jason should stay in tonight. He hasn't heard from him since.  It doesn't inspire great feelings of confidence that Slade’s okay. 

So Jason digs out his phone and calls him, already going down the list of who he'd call next if Slade doesn't pick up. 

Oracle first, because she always seems to have tabs on everyone, whether they want her to or not.  Then Steph, because she and Slade secretly hang out, even if neither would admit it.  And Steph is probably who Slade would call for help him if he got caught up in some morally grey contract in Gotham and, for some reason, wanted to keep Jason out of it.  Then Duke, because Slade can't say no to that kid to save his life.  Then Dami?  Or Tim?

Or maybe he'd call Rose before Dami or Tim.  He'd probably lean on Rose for help before Duke, actually.  But probably still after Steph, since Slade's still hesitant about putting his kids in the line of fire.  

Billy always seems to know where Slade is, but Billy has very explicit instructions to never, ever bother him unless it's about a specific contract.  Rose said it's because he still suffers nightmares from Slade’s first marriage, and he doesn't want to risk being in the middle of that kind of violent back and forth ever again.  

“Adeline used to threaten to murder him, like, every other day,” Rose told him with a large smirk on her face.  Joey sitting next to her and looking embarrassed.  “I don't think it bothered him too much until she blew half of Pop’s head off.  Billy moved after that.  Refused to tell us where he ended up.”

‘That's how Dad lost the eye, if he's never told you,’ Joey signs.  

So, no Billy. But he could call Rose or he could text Joey.

“It's taking longer than I thought,” Slade answers with no greeting.  He's not panting, but he is breathing harder than normal, which is enough to be concerned.  “I'll be another hour at the most, and then I'll-”

“No,” Jason interrupts.  “Your time limit’s up. Either come home now or tell me what you're doing.  Otherwise, I'm coming out to get you.” He's already off the couch and making his way to the bedroom, where his Red Hood gear sits in the closet.

“Everything's fine.  You're going to ruin the surprise.”

Jason flips the phone to speaker as he starts slipping into his armor.  “Well, you shouldn't have taken so long then.  Because now I'm worried.  So are you coming home or am I coming after you?”

“You worry too much.” Slade’s breathing has calmed down, but now his voice is a whisper, like he's trying to hide from someone.  It doesn't make Jason feel any better.  “You know how much it would take to kill me? I'm fine.”

Jason pitches his voice soft to match Slade's.  If Slade really is hiding from someone, Jason won't be the reason he's caught.  “You get that you saying that doesn't make me feel better, right? You hurt?”

“Nothing major,” Slade replies, which typically means that it's something that would be major for a normal human.  “Nothing I can't take care of.  It's just some Black Mask bullshit.  Don't concern yourself.”

Jason pauses from where he's been scrambling to get into his gear.  He blinks down at the phone.  “What the fuck do you mean ‘don't concern myself’?  Black Mask is mine.  If he's doing something in my city … to my people … it very much concerns me.”

“I don't want you around him,” Slade growls. 

“At what fucking point did we decide that I can't handle Black Mask?” Jason scoffs.  He starts slipping on the rest of his armor.  He can run circles around Black Mask.  It's insulting to be protected from a guy that's so inept.

“It's not about what you can or can't handle.  It's about what he wants to do to you.  The way he looks at you,” Slade hisses.  “And about me sending a message.”

“Okay, first, I do not need you fighting my battles for me,” Jason snaps as he goes for his weapons.  “I'm perfectly capable of protecting my own virtue, thank you so much.  Second, he made a play one time, and it was forever ago.  I don't think-”

“His current plans say that it will not be one time,” Slade interrupts.  “He's messing around with The Society again.  Something about getting a captive to get you under his thumb.”

Jason's blood goes cold.  “Are all the Robins-”

“Everyone's accounted for,” Slade assures him.  “But you're also an idiot who would stand in-between a bullet and a stranger, so I thought it best to keep you out of it.”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Love you too, dear.”

“Oh.  Should I have coddled you?”

And Jason doesn't have anything to say to that one, because, no, he'd rather be called an idiot to his face, and Slade very much knows that.  He would like to argue that saving innocent people isn't stupid, but that's a battle he's never going to win with Slade.  Different philosophies. Yadda yadda.  Jason understands it, even if he doesn't agree with it. 

He changes the subject instead.  “Aren't you part of The Society?  Just have them stop helping Black Mask.  Surely they care more about having you in their good graces than that tit Black Mask.”

“Not a member, kid,” Slade scoffs.  “Too political for my blood.  They just pay me to take care of errands sometimes.  And, cons of being a mercenary: people like to think your loyalty can be bought.”

Jason snorts.  “Your loyalty can be bought,” he points out. 

“Only most of the time,” Slade replies, sounding insulted.

Jason smiles despite the annoyance of being protected from a fight that's rightfully his and his worry over why Slade is still whispering.  “Yeah, I'm well aware of your outliers.” Knows them intimately well, seeing as he's one of them.  “Where are you?”

“Oh, yeah, like I'd be stupid enough to tell you,” Slade huffs.  “I already told you I don't want you down here.”

“If I have to ask O where you are I'm calling Ravager for backup, and then you can explain to her how you're barely injured or whatever you're trying to convince me you are,” Jason threatens. 

“Are you threatening me with my own daughter?”

Jason shrugs even though Slade can't see him.  His gear’s all on, his weapons are all checked and good to go, and his comms are in and just waiting to be dialed into O's private channel.  He grins.  “Are you saying it's not working?”

There's silence for a beat.  “I'm by the docks.  You know the channel for my comms.  Dial on when you get here.”

“On my way, babe,” Jason replies before he hangs up and slips out of his bedroom window.

Turns out, Jason doesn't need to call Slade to find out where he's at.  He just has to follow the chaos. 

“Hood.” The greeting is at his back, but it's Slade’s voice, so Jason doesn't tense up or unholster any weapons.  He gives Slade a smirk he can't see due to his helmet and turns to inspect him for injuries. 

“Asshole,” Jason greets back.  He almost says, ‘Report,’ which is such a bat thing. Slade would absolutely not hesitate to make fun of him for it.  “Wanna tell me about your actual injuries now?" he asks instead.  "Some actual details would be good.”

“Just some bullets,” Slade answers.  “The entry wounds have already healed, so we'll have to worry about digging them out later.”

Jason cringes, because he's had to help with that once before, and it's an awful time for both of them.  “How many?”

“Three,” Slade answers.  “Four, maybe.  Not sure if my armor caught one of 'em or not.  I'll have to inspect it later.”

“I'm surprised your armor didn't catch all of them,” Jason replies with a frown. 

Slade shrugs at him.  “Seems Roman made some equipment upgrades.  Means your armor isn't going to be able to catch any either.  Just another reason to keep you away from here.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I can take care of myself,” Jason replies.  He pats the rocket launcher he has strapped to his back.  “Plus, I don't plan on getting all that close.”

Slade glances at it.  “Hmm.  That's a bit of an overkill, isn't it?”

Jason shrugs.  “You said you wanted to set an example, right?  And maybe I wanted to set one too: don't fucking hurt my fiance.”

Slade gives a low chuckle.  “Is that so?  Consider me wooed then.”

“So? Where's the target? Let's go blow it up and then we can beat our chests like cavemen.”

“I can't help but think that might be a dig at me,” Slade replies as he crosses his arms. 

“That's because it was.”

“You haven't seen caveman yet, kid.  Just wait until I get you home,” Slade promises. 

And Jason knows Slade's smirking just as much as he knows that he's blushing.  “Target, Slade?”

Slade jerks his head.  “Over here,” he says before he's jumping between warehouse roofs while Jason follows behind. 

It's not long until they get to a spot Slade deems appropriate.  Then Jason's setting up and firing at an empty warehouse that's supposed to be full of ammunition and bombs.  Except when Jason shoots at it, the building erupts into hundreds of fireworks instead.  

“What the fuck?” Jason has just enough time to breathe out before there's another voice at his back.

“I might have overdid it a bit, I guess.”

“Steph,” Jason says slowly.  He flips his rocket launcher onto his back as the fireworks light up the sky.  “What did you do?”

Stephanie shrugs.  “Well, Black Mask was fucking with you that one time, so I figured I'd fuck with him.  This is the first big movement I've been able to track without B knowing.  I heard he was expecting a big shipment of weapons in, so I commandeered it before it hit the docks and replaced ‘em all with fireworks.” She gestures up at the sky before doing jazz hands.  “Ta da!” She frowns.  “Although, gotta admit, a rocket launcher was not a part of my plans.”

“Well,” Jason says, looking up at the sky.  “It's pretty anyway.”

“It's a little too attention-grabbing,” Slade says next.  “We should leave before this gets traced back to us.”

Jason grins and adjusts the rocket launcher strapped to his back, making sure it's secured.  “Sure.  Try to keep up, old man,” he challenges before he's running off, taking the roofs to go back home, Steph on his left and Slade directly behind him. 

Tbc

Chapter Text

Slade looks outside.  It has just stopped snowing a few hours ago, just enough time for the snow on the roads to turn to gray slush.  It makes the night look unwelcome and cold, especially when compared to the warmth of his apartment and his fiance taking a shower a room away. 

He wonders if he can talk Jason out of patrolling tonight.  It looks like there's ice over the majority of the rooftops, and the wind is whipping through the few trees that are lining the sidewalk.  Surely no one in their right mind would be out tonight, not for crime or for anything else. 

“Hey,” Jason greets, coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and another one rubbing through his hair.  His autopsy scar is on full display, and Slade wants nothing more than to lick it.  “You aren't changed.  Not going out tonight?” He sounds disappointed, but his face only reflects curiosity. 

Slade looks down at himself, wearing only loose sweatpants and no shirt.  It's true he's in no condition to be wandering around outside.  “Please don't tell me you are,” he replies instead of giving his official answer.  He gestures towards the window.  “Not exactly prime conditions for anything out there tonight.”

Jason throws the loose towel around his shoulders and walks up to Slade, looking out the window when he gets beside him.  “Bad weather typically means people need more help, not less.”

And Slade knows Jason too well not to know what that means.  “Ah.  You aren't going out as Red Hood tonight.”

Jason offers him a small smile.  “Nah.  Can't be ruining my crime lord rep.  Just going out as Jason tonight.”

Slade rolls his eyes.  “Fine.” He turns to head into the bedroom so he can change his clothes.  “If you're going to be running around giving homeless people jackets then I'll come help.”

“And sleeping bags and food and water,” Jason pipes up, following behind Slade.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Slade grumbles, jerking open a drawer and throwing some warm clothes behind him at Jason.  “You and your outcasts.”

“Not like they've got anyone else helping ‘em,” Jason scoffs.  “Half the places advertising as charities and shit aren't anything but fronts for human trafficking and bullshit like that.  I can only take ‘em down so fast,” he grumbles.  “Not to mention, the shit ones give the good ones a bad name, so people decide it's better not to trust any and end up freezing to death outside.”

“I seem to recall hearing this particular rant a time or two,” Slade answers as he throws on a thermal.  It's too tight in the shoulders, which means it's probably Jason's.  He throws a sweater over top of it instead of changing. 

“It's an important rant,” Jason replies.  He heads to the closet and shrugs into his leather jacket. 

“No,” Slade says.  “Stop acting like it's fall or that we aren't going to be out the entire night handing out supplies.” He throws some thermal underwear and a hoodie at Jason.  “Dress warmly, otherwise you're going to get hyperthermia.”

“This is your hoodie,” Jason replies, even as he slips out of his leather jacket and throws the hoodie on. 

Slade smirks at him.  “I know.  Looks good on you.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Get moving,” Jason mutters even as he fights back a smile. 

The streets are just as bad as Jason always complains they are.  There are countless people huddled over trash can fires and squabbling over food.  But Jason pays more attention to the kid huddled in a dumpster or the old woman with the broken ankle hiding in a soggy box.

“If they've got energy to be making fires and fighting over food, they've got enough energy to survive the night,” Jason answers quietly as he passes over another crowd of homeless huddled over an open fire.  “Can't help everyone, much as I'd like to, so gotta try to find the ones that need the most help.” 

So, Slade’s fiance is more of a pragmatist than Slade had given him credit for.  Although, once Slade thinks about it, it's not all that surprising that a past homeless kid would know intimately well what people can survive out on the streets and what they can't. 

“Still,” Jason grumbles, looking around, “there should be more people out here than just this.  Usually I don't have to keep looking for ‘em after I start handing out food.” He frowns and keeps looking around before his gaze finally settles on Slade.  “You're probably scaring them.  Stop looking so grumpy.”

Slade rolls his eyes and walks past Jason to peer into the next alleyway, even though he hasn't been able to spot any of the hiding spots Jason has been able to find.  “I don't look grumpy.  This is just how my face looks.”

“That's bullshit and you know it,” Jason scoffs from behind him before something cold and wet hits the back of Slade's head and slides underneath his jacket. 

Slade turns to look at him as he ruffles out his jacket.  It might have been cute if they were someplace clean instead of a dirt-infested piece of shit city like Gotham.  “You did not just pelt me with a gray snowball.”

Jason grins and shrugs at him.  “Just tryna get you to lighten up.  Coulda been worse.  Coulda been a yellow snowball.”

“I'm going to dunk your head into a gray snowbank,” Slade growls, wiping at his cold, wet neck.  

Jason's grin just grows.  “Gotta catch me first, old man,” he challenges before he turns on his heel and dashes between trash can fires. 

“Don't think just because I'm old I can't catch up to you,” Slade calls out, running after him, slipping between people who have turned to stare at the guy running and laughing down the street.  

Jason just laughs louder and pivots, running back to where they started.  He bows over mid-run, and picks up more snow.  He turns around, not slowing his pace, and throws it right in Slade’s face. 

It tastes like dirt and disease, and Slade quickly wipes it off, cursing at the fact that while he had made Jason wear a scarf, he hadn't brought one for himself.  But fine, if they're going to have a dirt fight Slade isn't going to let Jason win.

He picks up speed, catching up to Jason enough to grab him by the hood of his sweater and pull him in.  He lifts him up and slings him over his shoulder.  “If you think you aren't paying for-” Slade sputters as another snowball lands on his face.  Except Jason's with him, so he can't be responsible for it.  Slade spins around, following where the snowball came from to see a little boy grinning at him. 

Jason laughs.  “Hit him again,” he demands. 

Slade does get hit again, but it's from a different direction than where he's facing.  He turns again, and it's a little girl this time.  “No teams,” Slade gripes, walking over to the nearest snowbank and dropping Jason into the gray slush.  “You're having them gang up on me.”

Jason laughs and throws another snowball at him without even bothering to get up.

Then Slade’s getting pelted from all sides, small children seeming to materialize from thin air.  “You're cheating!” he yells at Jason, keeping his arms up to protect his face as he glares down at the other man. 

Jason's still laughing.  “No rules in snowball fights, Slade.  Everyone knows that.”

“Yeah, everyone knows that,” a young voice mocks from Slade’s right.

Slade dumps the snow from the top of the bank onto Jason's face. 

Jason sputters, still laughing, as he finally sits up and wipes the snow from his face.  “Okay! Okay!” he says, arms up in surrender.  “Truce! Truce!”

“I want it on record that you're asking for a truce even after you somehow managed to convince all these kids to go against me,” Slade replies even while he helps Jason up. 

Jason grins at him.  “I didn't convince ‘em to do anything.  I told you they were hiding cause you looked too grumpy.”

Slade rolls his eyes, but he can't help but notice that he's grinning now. 

Tbc

Chapter Text

“Wake up,” Jason demands, flicking Slade's forehead and shoving a mug of coffee in his face as soon as he opens his eyes. 

Slade can never remember a time when Jason woke up before him.  It immediately puts him on edge.  He grabs the coffee mug and sits up.  “I'm up,” he mutters, blinking sleep from his eyes.  “What's happened?  What’s wrong?”

Jason frowns at him.  “Nothing's wrong.  We're babysitting today, remember?”

“Right,” Slade answers as he slowly recalls the memory.  Jason volunteered them to watch Roy’s new kid, who wasn't new to the planet, just new to Roy.  Slade hopes the man's better at dealing with kids than Slade is.  Though, he figures, better a kid than a baby.  Roy's lucky he got to miss the screaming and crying years.

Jason's frown increases.  “You forgot.”

“Didn't forget,” Slade answers before taking a sip of his coffee.  “I was half asleep.”  He glances at the clock.  They hadn't even gone to bed four hours ago.  “You're excited,” he guesses. 

Jason shrugs as he chews on his bottom lip.  “Maybe?  Or terrified?  I can't really decide.  You think she'll like me?”

“Can't imagine anyone not liking you,” Slade answers as he slips out of bed.  He kisses the top of Jason's head as he goes to the dresser for some pants.  “That's why we always have people breaking in at all hours of the day and night.”

“Don't act like that's all my fault.  Rose broke in last week,” Jason says.  He sits on the bed and watches Slade get dressed.

“Yes, for your recipe, if I remember right.” Slade finds some sweatpants and throws them on.  

“Alright, but that's not why she usually breaks in,” Jason replies.  He grabs the mug Slade left on the nightstand and takes a sip.  

“She usually schedules with me,” Slade points out. 

Jason frowns.  That might be true.  Rose breaks in a lot, same as Joey, but they do usually seem to be seeking him out when they do it.  They spend time with Slade during their weekly dinners or when Slade invites them out on a job. Jason frowns.  “What about me invites people to break into my home?” 

Slade shrugs.  “Wish I knew.  It's my curse too now.” He slips on a black t-shirt.  “What time is Roy's daughter supposed to be over?”

“Lian,” Jason replies.  “Her name's Lian.  And Roy's flight lands at four.”

Slade hums.  “And we're up at nine, why?”

“I already told you,” Jason grumbles, “I was nervous.”

“Okay.” Slade leans against their closet door.  “You have a plan for how I'm helping with that?”

Jason shrugs.  “You could help me bake?” He looks over to Slade and smirks.  “Or you could shove your dick in me so hard I forget my own name.”

Slade stalks forward and shoves at Jason's shoulder, forcing him to land on his back on the bed.  He climbs on top of him.  “Guess which one of those options I like more.”

Jason's smirk grows.  “I really couldn't begin to guess.  You're a man of many mysteries.”

“I'll give you a hint,” Slade growls.  

He manages to keep Jason in bed for a little over an hour before he rolls away, throws on his bathrobe, and heads to the kitchen to go bake whatever he thinks Lian will like. 

Slade's at the kitchen table going through open contracts and Jason's running around baking something close to what has to be his fiftieth baked good.  Slade isn't keeping track of the number, but there are different types of bread squeezed onto every available countertop space with more on the way.

“I'm going to need to use the kitchen table pretty soon,” Jason warns after he stands back up from his hunched position checking the oven. 

Slade doesn't look away from his laptop.  “Use the coffee table.”

“The coffee table has a bunch of shit on it,” Jason grumbles before he's jerking his head around and looking at the coffee table.  “Ah, fuck.  There's a bunch of fucking shit on the coffee table.”

“So just shove it on the floor,” Slade advises, still only paying half attention.  

Jason purposely kicks his chair as he strides over to the coffee table.  “Yeah, except the shit on our coffee table is a bunch of weapons.”  He starts picking up the knives, guns, and ammo that are scattered all over it.  “Remember how we're hosting a six-year-old any second?” Jason reminds Slade, glancing over at him before he focuses back on picking up all their weapons.  “And remember how kids shouldn't be around weapons?”

“I'm not sure if Adeline and I ever subscribed to that rule, actually,” Slade answers, but he closes the laptop and gets up to help. 

Jason smirks at him.  “Probably best if we both lean on parenting books instead of our personal experiences.” He takes his armful of weapons and heads to the bedroom. 

Slade quirks an eyebrow at his back as he grabs up the rest of the weapons.  He follows Jason into the bedroom once he's grabbed the rest of anything that may be deemed dangerous.  Jason's emptying guns and stowing them on the top shelf of their closet when Slade gets to the bedroom. 

“Is that something you've been doing?” Slade asks as he makes his way into the room.  “Reading parenting books?”

Jason shrugs and very noticeably starts paying more attention to the closet.  “Sometimes.  Like … I've read a couple.  I did tell you I wanted kids. … A kid.”

“You did,” Slade answers.  He drops his armful of weapons on the bed and presses himself into Jason's back, hugging him from behind.  

Slade can't help but think back to his last conversation involving kids with Adeline.  That one, also, with too many weapons around.  But, he's fairly certain he won't be losing an eye at the end of this conversation. 

“I just sort of assumed we'd actually get married before the kids,” Slade says, pressing Jason against him and kissing the top of his head. He hopes it's enough for Jason to know it means he loves him.  Because kids are enough of a sensitive subject, and Slade’s not good with words on his best day.

Jason presses back for just a second before he taps on his arm like he's in some sort of submission hold.  Slade loosens up and Jason moves away.  “Love you, too, but, seriously, Lian’s going to be here any minute, and these weapons need to go into hiding.”

Slade takes a few steps back and wonders what to say.  He knows Jason wants to adopt.  And he's been wrapping his head around it, but it's been a theoretical concept up until now.  He didn’t realize it was something Jason was actively working towards. 

Jason goes straight back to storing away weapons.  “I just figured,” he says after several seconds of silence, “might as well know what I'm getting into, you know?”

“Is that why we're babysitting?” Slade heads to the bed and starts unloading and checking guns.  He glances over at Jason in time to see him shrug in answer. 

“A little.  Maybe.  But it's mostly because Roy needs a break and Ollie’s being a fucking dick about the whole thing.  Says he won't help Roy dodge the consequences of his bad decisions.  Blah blah blah.  He's a piece of crap.”

“Seems a little overboard,” Slade says.  “Going to the opposite coast just for a couple hours off.”  Given that Jason’s been reading parenting books, Slade’s willing to guess it has more to do with him wanting to babysit than Roy asking them to babysit. 

“Fine, so maybe it was mostly my idea,” Jason snaps.  “I maybe like the idea of practicing first, just to make sure I don't absolutely suck at this.  But that doesn't dismiss what I said about Roy.  He needs a break, both from his parental responsibilities and from Ollie.  Don't be a dick about it.”

Slade grins at him and starts handing him empty guns, now that Jason's pile of weapons are all put away.  “Just making sure you're being honest with yourself.  But don't take this as the end all be all.” He squeezes Jason's shoulder before passing him another weapon.  “Just because one kid doesn't like you doesn't mean all kids will feel the same. The little street rugrats love you. That not enough practice for you?”

“I'm not responsible for the street kids,” Jason points out.  “It's different.”

Slade snorts.  “Right.  Not responsible for them.  You just go out of your way to make sure they're warm and fed.”

“It's different,” Jason repeats, glaring at Slade as he grabs another gun from him.  “They're self-sufficient. The ones that aren't don't make it out there. They're more mini adults than normal kids.”

And Jason would know, wouldn't he? Having spent a couple of years living on the streets himself.  Slade can't argue with him.  

“Okay,” Slade replies.  He's saved from having to say more by the knocking at their door. 

“Fuck,” Jason says as he shoves a gun into Slade's hands.  “I'll get the door.  Can you take care of the rest of this?”  He gestures towards the bed.

Slade nods as Jason runs for the door.  

By the time Slade’s finished hiding all their weapons and goes back out into their living area, Lian’s sitting happily at their kitchen table.  She's swinging her legs, eating some sort of homemade bread, and doodling on printer paper with a pencil.  She spares one look at Slade and then ducks her head to focus back on her work.  Slade walks past her to where Roy and Jason are hunched together by the fridge talking in hushed voices. 

“I'm just saying, if you were going to do a bunch of nervous baking you could have gone a normal route and baked, like, cookies or something, Jaybird.”

Jason scrunches his nose.  “Yeah, but you aren’t supposed to pump kids full of sugar, right?  These are healthy.” He gestures around them at the dozen different baked goods crammed onto every available surface.  “Zucchini bread, banana nut muffins, apple cinnamon bread, carrot-”

“Yeah, I get it,” Roy interrupts with a smile.  “But she's six.  Don't be hurt if she doesn't like any of it.  She's a picky eater.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Jason says, offering Slade a smile as he approaches them.  “She seems to like the zucchini bread fine though.”

“Really?” Roy asks with wide eyes before he leans out of the kitchen to look at his daughter.  He turns back to Jason.  “Huh.” He stares at Jason for a few seconds.  “Think that's the first vegetable I've ever seen her eat,” he finally admits.  “I haven't been able to get her to eat anything but frozen dino nuggets and boxed mac and cheese.  You're like a child miracle worker or something,” he declares with a wide grin.  “I could kiss you.”

Slade glares down at him.  “Thought we agreed we wouldn't joke about that?”

“Who said I'm joking?” Roy quips.  He smirks as Slade's glare intensifies before he slaps him on the shoulder.  “Alright, chill out, big guy, I'm not going to kiss your man.” He rolls his eyes and turns back to Jason.  “You are her godfather though, right?” He glances at Slade again.  “Godfathers?”

Jason's mouth drops open before he shuts it with a click of his teeth a second later.  He doesn't even spare Slade a look.  “Yeah?  I mean, yeah, of course.  If you're sure.”

“Course I'm sure,” Roy answers, full of confidence.  “Who better to raise my kid if I kick the bucket?”

Jason smiles back, finally looking at Slade. 

And Slade is so far out of his realm it's not even funny.  He didn't know kids were fussy eaters.  He would have never thought about limiting sugar intake.  He has no idea how to talk to Roy's kid.  He's had three kids and had been promptly absent for the childhood of every single one.  He has no idea what he's doing.  And now they're suddenly the backup parents for one.  Slade thought he'd have more time to get used to another round of parenthood.  He was going to eventually retire and become boring, and give the father thing an actual, solid try with Jason.  He’s fine with that plan.  He really is.  But he's not ready to retire now .  He doesn't want to yet.  But if they invite kids into this life then his job is going to rip it all apart just like it did the first time. 

“I need some air,” Slade explains before he's dashing out of their apartment, barely remembering to stop to grab his coat.  

Before he shuts the door he hears Roy ask, “Something I said?” followed by Jason's assurance, “Don't worry about it. He'll come back when he's ready to talk, and we'll discuss it then.”

Slade takes it for the demand it is. 

Two hours later and Slade's finally cold enough to stop avoiding his apartment, even though he still has no idea what he's supposed to say to Jason. 

He comes home to all the cushions off the couch and a pile of blankets heaped in the middle of the room.  Jason's head pops out of them as he closes the door. 

“Slade. Hey,” Jason greets with a smile, like Slade didn't just bolt from their apartment with no explanation.  “Welcome to Fort Lian.”

Slade has no idea what that means. “I have no idea what to do with children,” is what he blurts instead. 

Jason's smile doesn't dim. “Well, yeah, me either.  That's why Lian's here to help us.  She's really smart.”

The little girl's head pops out right next to Jason's.  “Are you scared too?” she asks, giving Slade a look that’s too serious for her small face. 

Slade’s first impulse is to say, ‘no,’ but then he gets stuck trying to figure out what it is he's supposed to be afraid of.  And the kid goes on before Slade can actually come up with anything. 

“Cause Jayjay said he was scared of kids, and then I said I was scared of Jayjay, and he said that was good because being scared together is way better than being scared alone.  And he was right, cause after that, I wasn't as scared no more,” Lian rambles. 

“Anymore,” Jason corrects.

“Anymore,” Lian repeats. 

“Then Lian, in all her infinite wisdom, told me that if I have similar interests to my future kids, then we'll probably get along better.  Like how both her and her dad really like mac and cheese,” Jason's grin widens, like he's sharing an inside joke.  Probably because Roy hates boxed mac and cheese ever since Jason started spoiling him with the homemade stuff back when they were roommates.  “I was then informed that all kids love forts, as a rule,” Jason continues.  “And, so viola! Fort Lian was constructed.  And, even better, turns out blanket forts aren’t scary at all!”

“I told you they weren't!” Lian pipes in. 

Jason beams at her.  “I promise I'll trust you next time.” He turns back to Slade, his smile not diminishing in the slightest.  “So? Wanna play with us?”

Slade looks at the tiny heap of blankets and wonders how Jason had managed to somehow fit underneath it without the whole thing toppling over.  “If I try to crawl in that thing everything's coming down.”

“Spoken like someone who isn't aware of the first rule of blanket forts,” Jason replies, still grinning.  “You wanna educate him, Lian?”

“The best part is building them!” Lian declares, throwing her hands wide and toppling over a cushion, which causes a sheet to collapse. 

Slade might grin.  “I'll get more blankets.”

Tbc

Chapter Text

“If you would have been a normal person while you were watching Lian and made holiday cookies instead of a selection of vegetable and fruit breads, we wouldn't have to do this right now,” Damian gripes.  

“And maybe if you would have told me a week ago that your school required cookies, instead of the day before, I would have done exactly that,” Jason answers.  “And the carrot cake is still open.  I'm sure I can pipe in a snowman on top or something.  Boom: holiday cake.”

“Absolutely not,” Damian snaps. “Everyone at school already thinks I'm going to mess this up.  These need to be perfect.  Festive.  And delicious.  Without any vegetables.  Everyone needs to be impressed.”

There's a beat of silence.  “You being bullied at school, Dami?”

“Tch. Don't be absurd.  I just need them to know I'm superior to them in every way,” Damian answers.

“If you are being bullied-”

“I'm not ,” Damian declares hotly.  “I asked you to make me perfect Christmas cookies, not pretend like we’re in an after school special.”

“Alright. Alright,” Jason answers, laughter coming through in his voice.  “I just need you to know that no matter what the kids at school say, your mother and I love you very much,” he says in a mocking tone.

“Stop it!”

“And bullies are just people hiding their low self esteem.”

“You aren't funny,” Damian growls. 

“And words can't hurt you.”

“How about I stab you in the throat?  Think that'll hurt you ?"

“Well, I mean, more than words definitely,” Jason answers.  There's some more silence.  “Alright, stop glaring, Demon Child. I'll stop teasing you.” There's some clanging of metal and then, “Though, if you wanted perfect, you should have asked Alfie.”

“Tch.  He’s already busy.  He is in charge of organizing the Wayne Winter Charity Gala.”

Some more clanging.  Slade rolls over in bed and wonders if he should intervene.  Jason never deals well with anything Wayne-related. 

“Ah,” Jason answers after a too long pause.  

“You're coming, of course,” Damian is quick to reply. 

“Am I?” Jason asks, his voice too flippant to be real.  “That's weird.  My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”

Slade sighs and rolls out of bed, his nap clearly over.  He slips on some pants and stumbles out into the living room. 

“Father assumes you’re coming,” Damian says. “He will be disappointed if you aren’t there.”

“Then he should have invited me.”

“Don’t be difficult,” Slade says, making his way into the kitchen.  He grabs a mug from the cabinet and goes for the coffee pot.  “You know perfectly well that Bruce Wayne is a moron.”

“No argument there,” Jason answers, dumping measured flour into the bowl in front of him.  “But I know for a fact he knows how invites work.”

“He didn't want you to feel forced,” Damian answers before Slade can call Wayne a moron again.

Jason starts mixing.  “Well, mission accomplished,” he tells the bowl.  “I definitely do not feel forced.”

“We all want you there,” Damian replies with a frown.  “Don't be so sensitive. It's an annual traditional, so, obviously, you're expected-”

“It's an annual tradition I haven't participated in since I was fourteen,” Jason snaps, slamming the mixing spoon into the bowl as he stops what he's doing to glare at Damian.  “And I don't expect you to know that, but Bruce certainly does.” He shoots a glance at Slade and his glare falls.  “Plus, the last public event of Bruce's I attended went to shit pretty fast.”

Slade shrugs at him.  “Means this one can only be better.”

“Seriously?” Jason asks, shooting Slade an unimpressed look.  “You really wanna go through all that bullshit again?”

Slade shrugs at him.  “I’d go through a lot of bullshit to see you in a suit.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jason scoffs.  

“Honestly,” Slade replies back with a smirk.  “Only reason I’m marrying you?  To see you in a suit.”

Jason raises an eyebrow.  “Ah.  We must have gotten our wires crossed somewhere.  I thought we were marrying out of love.”

“It’s mostly the suit thing.”

“But you do love him, right?” Damian interrupts, looking affronted.  

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Of course he does, Dami.  He was just-”

“I wasn’t asking you ,” Damian growls at his brother before turning back and glaring at Slade.  

Slade shares a bewildered look with Jason before focusing back on Damian.  “Of course I do.”

“Tell him then,” Damian demands, face still fixed in a glare like he wants to threaten something.

Slade blinks at him before turning to Jason.  “Jason.  I love you.”  A light blush blooms across Jason’s face, and Slade can’t help but smirk at how cute it is.  

“Yeah.  I know,” Jason answers, staring at Slade for a few more seconds before he turns back to mixing his ingredients together.  

“Mother always calls Father ‘Beloved,’ so he can never doubt how much she loves him,” Damian explains, looking between the two of them.  “But Father never calls her anything back, and I know, sometimes, it makes her feel lonely.”

“Dami,” Jason sighs and stops his mixing again.  “Talia and Bruce aren’t actually together, you know that, right?  And Talia also knows that, which I’m sure has more to do with her feeling lonely than Bruce not telling her he loves her.”  

“I know that,” Damian snaps.  “But just because they aren’t together doesn’t mean Father doesn’t love her, in his own way.  Father is just bad at expressing himself.  It’s not just exclusive to you.  And, anyway, you seem fine with Slade not expressing himself well.”

Jason frowns at him.  “Okay, first, really not enjoying that comparison, bud.  Second, just because Slade’s bad at words doesn’t mean he’s bad at expressing himself.  Bruce is bad at expressing himself, period.”  He crosses his arms and stares down at Damian.  “Is this you trying to make me feel bad about your dysfunctional parents, so I’ll come to Bruce’s stupid party?”

"No," Damian answers.  He waits a beat.  “Unless it's working.  Is it?”

“Kid, I invented dysfunctional parents,” Jason replies.  

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one that invented them, since I’m the oldest one here,” Slade says, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.  “Invented them and then replicated them brilliantly.”

Jason raises an eyebrow at him.  “Okay, fine, Slade invented it.  My parents perfected it.”

Slade shrugs in acceptance.  

Damian rolls his eyes.  “I wasn’t trying to play broken home with you,” he mutters.  “I was trying to get you to come to the party.”

Jason looks towards Slade, and Slade shrugs again.  

“If anyone makes you feel bad about being there, I’m happy to stab a fork in their ear,” Slade answers the silent question.  

“I am also willing to do that,” Damian offers with a nod. 

Jason sighs.  “Tell Bruce I’ll be there,” he says reluctantly.  “But Slade and I are using the back entrance.  Tell him to keep it unlocked or we’ll break in.  I’m not dealing with any of that paparazzi shit again.”

Damian grins.  “Deal.”

TBC       

Chapter Text

“Oh, he’s selling to them,” Jason insists as he glares down at the picture he had thrown on the kitchen table earlier in the day.  It’s a picture of a man with brown hair, frown lines, and a beard that isn’t able to hide his double chin.  Jason has stared at the picture for so long he’s confident he could sketch him, pick him out of a lineup, or (as is about to be the case) find him among his coworkers at his holiday office party. 

“I never said he wasn’t,” Slade replies, glancing around his laptop so he can look at the picture again.  “I’m just a little concerned there’s no proof.  You’re usually pretty insistent on that before you go after someone.”

“The street kids told me,” Jason explains again, but he expands on it this time since Slade doesn’t seem to understand how important that is.  “Even if they’re lying, and he’s not selling drugs to kids - which he is - there’d still be a reason they’d send me after him.  They know better than to cry wolf.  He did something that makes them not want him around.”  He shrugs.  “So I’m going to make sure that’s exactly what happens.”

Slade shuts his laptop and looks up at him.  “Killing someone in Gotham, in front of what is probably going to be hundreds of people, because a couple of kids told you he tried to sell them drugs?  Seems high risk, low reward.  If you have to go after him, you can at least come up with a better plan.”

“I could ,” Jason replies.  “But this is the fastest and most convenient.  And, also, it’s not going to be in front of witnesses.  I can get him alone before I kill him.  Make him confess to what he’s been doing.  Make him beg for forgiveness.  Let him have hope that I’ll actually let him go with just a few broken ribs before I crack his skull open,” he growls. 

“Cracking open a skull is noisy,” Slade points out.  “Might want to think of another way to kill him.”

Jason takes a breath and shrugs, visibly working not to clench his jaw against the thought of the man in the picture.  “Yeah, maybe,” he eventually gets out.  

Slade watches him for a beat, eyeing his tense shoulders.  “Your new stance on child drug use is certainly … passionate.”

“It’s not new,” Jason bites out.  

“ Revamped stance then,” Slade corrects.  “Never seen you this angry over someone selling to kids.  Usually you just break their kneecaps and then go about your day.”

“The kids have never sent me after someone before,” Jason admits.  

“Ah.”

“It means he’s probably doing something else to them that they don’t want to admit to,” Jason explains, even though Slade has already connected those particular dots.

Street kids, Slade knows by now thanks to Jason, don’t scare easily.  And they don’t ask for help.  Ever.  Which means whatever this guy did to make them seek out Red Hood has to be bad.  It certainly explains Jason’s anger, and his resolve to take the man out as fast as possible.  

“Okay.  So, we’re going to an office party.  That’s what?  Business casual?” Slade asks, getting up from the kitchen table and heading into their bedroom.  

Jason’s tension melts as he cocks his head at Slade, his anger replaced by curiosity.  “I thought you were leaving for a job tonight?” 

“I’m playing courier for some no-name in the Midwest.  He can wait a day,” Slade replies.  “I’ll leave in the morning instead.”

Jason crosses his arms.  “Okay,” he says slowly.  “Didn’t realize you took protecting kids so seriously.”

“I don’t,” Slade replies breezily.  “But it’s a stupid plan, so I don’t want you doing it alone.”

Jason smirks at him.  “You know, you being there doesn’t actually make it any less stupid, right?”

“Yes, but, if needs must, me being there will make it easier to kill all the witnesses.”

Jason rolls his eyes but the smirk on his face doesn’t fall.  “We aren’t killing office workers, Slade.”

“Of course not,” Slade replies.  “Not as long as Plan A works, anyway.”

“Killing white collar workers is, like, Plan Z at the highest.”

Slade smirks back at him.  “Fair enough.  As long as we’re keeping it open as an option.”

“Man,” Jason laughs.  “Dick might be right: you are a bad influence on me.”

Jason finishes buttoning up his light-blue shirt and looks at himself in the full-length mirror on their bedroom wall.  His khaki pants have iron creases in the middle of both pant legs he doesn’t really like the look of, and his stupid penny loafers are going to make it hard to run, if the need arises.  

He’s debating changing his outfit (again) when Slade walks in.  Jason turns to face him and spreads his arms out at his sides.  “So?  Do I look like some douche who works in a cubicle with two point five kids, a white picket fence, and the most depressing fucking life you could ever think of?”

Slade crosses his arms and leans against the wall.  “Is it the cubicle, the kids, or the white picket fence that makes your life depressing?  Because I’ll remind you that you want to adopt.”  

“It’s that half of a kid,” Jason answers.  “Poor little Susie without the left side of her body.  She requires so much care and attention, and I just don’t have it in me anymore.”  

Slade rolls his eyes.  “Suzie's genetically yours, I hope you know.”

“Oh, says the old man,” Jason replies.  “That’s definitely your DNA.  Your sperm gets shittier the older you get, you know.  And I’m still in my prime.”

Slade points to himself and raises an eyebrow.  “Meta, remember?  I don’t make fucked up kids.” 

Jason clutches his chest and gasps. “Suzie is not fucked up.  How dare you!  She’s physically challenged.” 

“I know, sweetheart, but I secretly resent her because she makes you depressed.”  

Jason can't force back his smile.  “Oh.  That’s kind of sweet of you, actually.”

“We could put her in a home,” Slade offers.

Jason shakes his head. “In this scenario, we both work shit office jobs.  We can’t afford it.”  

“Damn this economy,” Slade answers, his voice deadpan.

“Seriously,” Jason replies, his smile growing.  “It's enough to turn an otherwise fine, upstanding citizen into a crime lord.” 

“Or a mercenary.”

Jason laughs. “God forbid.”

Slade nods.  “Yes, terrible people, mercenaries. Always corrupting innocent crime lords.”

“Yep. Tale as old as time.  Those poor crime lords never stood a chance.”

Slade smiles before walking over and pressing a kiss on the top of Jason's head.  “You look good in business casual.”

Jason snorts.  “Thanks. I feel like a giant dork.” He grabs the collar of Slade’s polo and maneuvers him into a proper kiss before releasing him.  “You know where my concealed holster is? Been awhile since I needed it.”

“Last time I saw it was at our place on Lincoln,” Slade answers.  “But that was at least a month ago.”

“I haven't used it for at least a month,” Jason replies as he thinks about it.  “And it's on the way.”

Slade raises an eyebrow.  Lincoln is farther into Crime Alley, but there are no offices in this section of Gotham.  “Where is this office party?”

“Across the street from the theater.”

Slade frowns as he pictures the street.  “There aren’t any offices over there.”

“Not officially.  But there's an apartment building people started working out of a couple months ago.  And that's where our new friend works.” Jason takes a moment to look at Slade’s outfit: light blue polo, black dress pants, complete with pleats, and shiny black boots.

At least Jason isn't the only one who looks like a dork.

“And that's not something we're clocking as suspicious?”

Jason shrugs.  “We can look for a drug lab in the basement while we're there if we've got time, but, generally, as long as they aren't drug dealers, traffickers, or scammers, I'm happy with whatever businesses wanna move into the Alley.  How they choose to zone themselves is between them and their government.”

Slade snorts.  “Your government too.”

“Nah, I'm dead.  I think that gets me out of having a government.”

Slade frowns.  He always forgets that Jason's technically dead.  According to him, it’s convenient.  And Slade understands it.  If the police ever manage to pick up Jason's DNA at a crime scene and run it through their systems it'll ping on a dead man.  It's a hell of an alibi. 

It is going to make marrying him difficult though.  Slade feels stupid for not thinking about it before.  But now's hardly the time to talk about it.

“Ready?” Jason asks, brushing past him to leave their bedroom.  “We should go now since we’ve gotta make a stop for my holster.”

“Right behind you,” Slade answers, pushing thoughts of marriage out of his head.  

Slade had honestly thought that sneaking into a company holiday party would be more difficult.  But it’s laughably easy.  There’s no one there to check them in at the door, no one’s asking their names so they can match them up with name tags, and in the room full of people, no one’s giving them a second look.  

Jason grins at him.  “Told you this would be easy.”

“You are ridiculously lucky, you mean,” Slade hisses back.  He’s not actually sure if that’s true.  He’s never attended a holiday party for work before.  Maybe the check-in list and name tags and a greeter at the door aren’t normal things.  But it’s not as if Jason would know any better than Slade; he’d never attended any parties like this either.  

Or, at least, Slade’s fairly sure of that fact.  

“You sneak into one of these things before?” Slade asks because now he’s not so confident.  

Jason shrugs.  “It’s kind of normal to get some party crashers if you’re hosting in the Alley.  I used to crash birthdays and shit all the time cause it meant free food.  No one really tries all that hard to keep strangers out, so long as you fit the part and don’t cause problems.”  He nods in the direction of the buffet table where a lone child is stacking up slices of pizza.  She’s in a nice dress, but her shoes are dirty and scoffed to hell and back.  “Street kid,” Jason explains with a small smile.  “She’s getting food for the rest of ‘em.”

“So, it’s good that businesses are moving in,” Slade says.  It’s not in his nature to think of communities, but Jason’s values do seem to have a habit of rubbing off on him.  “Because that means more bullshit company parties, which means more kids get fed.”

Jason’s grin gets wider.  “Yep.  And plenty of holidays in the winter, when the kids need it the most.  Makes you wish more companies came over here to commit tax fraud.”

“Well, maybe we get more once they realize there’s no one looking over their shoulders about zoning.”

“We can hope,” Jason replies, leaning into Slade’s side and smiling at him like Slade’s just said something phenomenal.  

It’s only after Jason’s pointed out their target and shoved the man into a broom closet that Slade realizes he’d been talking about Crime Alley like it was theirs, as opposed to just Jason’s.  

Huh.  He’s not exactly excited to learn that he’s thinking of a section of Gotham as his , but if it makes Jason beam like that … Well, there are worse things.  

“How’s it going, you sack of shit?” Jason asks as Slade closes the door and barricades the only exit.  The man’s already pale-faced and trembling, and he doesn’t even know who Jason is yet.  Slade vaguely wonders if he’s going to end up pissing himself if Jason decides to tell him he’s Red Hood.

“Heard you like hanging out with kids,” Jason says, slamming the man’s back into the wall when he stupidly tries to run away. 

“Now, listen, you can never believe a thing those kids say,” the man stutters, both his hands loosely on Jason’s chest as he’s held against the wall by his shoulder.  “They’ll say whatever they need to for attention.  But that doesn’t mean I ever touched ‘em.”

Jason’s gun is out and pressed up against the underside of the man’s chin in seconds.  “You better be talking about hitting them and not what I think you’re talking about,” he growls, low and angry. 

“Jay,” Slade says sternly.  He’s pretty sure it’s the only thing that saves the guy’s head from getting blown off right then and there.  Not that it’s Slade’s intention to save the guy.  Not when the bastard basically just admitted to touching kids.  But, judging by how the guy’s looking at him like he’s some kind of savior, their target’s got Slade’s intentions very wrong.  “Need I remind you that you don’t have a silencer on that gun?  Snap his neck and you can kill him quietly.”

The last of the color leaves the guy’s face as Slade continues.  “We haven’t even had a chance to look at the buffet yet.  Let’s not have to leave in a hurry.”

Jason rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t look as murderous.  Slade might miss the look a little bit; he’s very attractive when angry.  “Fine,” Jason answers, indulgent.  “But only because I’m pretty sure I saw cream puffs out there.”  

“Now, listen here,” the man stutters.  “You’ve got me all wrong.  It was that little bitch Jimmy who told you, right?  But it wasn’t like that.  He asked for it!  He-”

Jason swings the guy into his body in one smooth move, grabs the sides of his head, and twists.  There’s an audible snap and Jason lets the body drop.  He turns to Slade and sighs out the tension that had bundled itself into his shoulders when his worst fears had been confirmed.  “I told you he was a piece of garbage.”

“Never argued with you,” Slade replies.  “And happy to help anytime you want to rid the world of a pedophile.”

Jason looks down at the pedophile in question.  “Yeah,” he says slowly.  “Wish I didn’t have to worry about him screaming so I could’ve beat his skull in like he deserves.  That wasn’t very satisfying.”

“Well,” Slade replies, “maybe the cream puffs will make up for it.”

TBC      

Chapter Text

“Okay, this?” Jason asks as soon as they walk off the private plane Slade had booked for them. 
“This was a great idea.”  

They’re surrounded by palm trees, a sunny sky, warm weather, and a cool breeze.  It’s a stark contrast to the grey cold gloom they left behind in Gotham.

Slade slings two duffle bags over his shoulder before he follows Jason down the steps and into the bright, sunny weather.  “Told you it’s to your detriment to be so attached to Gotham,” Slade answers as he shields his eyes against the sun.  

Jason snorts.  “Should I remind you how hard it was finding someone to cover for me?  There’s a lot to do in winter.”

Slade rolls his eyes.  “It wouldn’t have been nearly as hard if you stopped insisting that the only two people who can cover you are either Roy or Artemis.”

“Well, Biz can’t do it.  People don’t always understand him.  And Kori’s off planet for at least a couple more months,” Jason huffs.  He goes to grab one of the duffles from Slade, but Slade turns so it’s out of reach.  

“Yet more people who don’t live in Gotham,” Slade points out.  “If you just told your family that you needed someone to watch out for Crime Alley-”

“I did,” Jason interrupts.  “But it only ever occurs to them to watch out for crime.  They don’t … I mean, they don’t know about the extra shit,” he mutters.  

The extra shit, meaning Jason’s ridiculous desire to go out in the freezing cold most evenings and check in on the street kids, homeless, working girls, and any other outcast he can manage to find.  Slade doesn’t particularly understand the desire.  He understands Jason’s need to keep it a secret from his siblings even less. 

Slade wraps his free hand around Jason’s shoulders and guides him towards their waiting car.  “You could tell them.”

“Steph and Duke are the only two that might not get robbed blind if they walked into the Alley without masks, and they’ve both got midterms coming up before the winter holidays.”

“I didn’t realize Steph was in school,” Slade replies.  He opens the car door for Jason before walking around and throwing their bags in the trunk.  

Jason waits until Slade’s sliding into the seat next to him to answer.  “This is her first semester.  I’m pretty sure B only offered to pay for it in the hopes that it’d encourage Tim to go - which is not going to happen - but it’s not like Steph’s going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  Shit, I wouldn’t either.  Her major’s still undecided, last I asked her.” 

Slade frowns over at him.  There’s something about the tone of his voice that doesn’t sit right with him.  “We have plenty of money if you also want to go to school,” he guesses.  

Jason snorts.  “With what transcripts?”  He leans over, points to his chest, and whispers, “Dead, remember?”  He leans back in his seat.  “Not an option for me.”  He shrugs.  “It’s cool.  I’m too busy anyway.”

Except Slade knows that Jason’s not all that busy.  He maybe devotes a few hours a week to his crime empire these days.  It mostly runs itself.  Most of his time is spent hanging out with and helping the homeless around the Alley, but that’s really only in the winter months; he doesn’t worry about them nearly as much when it’s not below freezing every night.  

It’s the dead thing that’s a problem.  Again.  

“So what’s this job you got us on?” Jason asks.  He glances over to their driver, and Slade knows he’s asking if the driver’s in on it; if their newest employer provided him.  Slade shakes his head, and Jason asks a new question.  “What time we have to report in?  Think we have time to go to the beach first?”

“They won’t be expecting us until the sun drops,” Slade answers.  “Plenty of time to enjoy the weather.”

It probably would have been plenty of time to enjoy the weather, but then Slade sees Jason shirtless and realizes that it’s a picture he very rarely gets to see outside a bedroom.  

And Slade understands; Jason doesn’t particularly like showing off his autopsy scar.  But Slade’s also very confident that most of the looks Jason’s attracting aren’t because of his autopsy scar.  

So Slade takes what’s his and claims it.  He pulls Jason in so he lands on top of him on the lounge chair, and then rolls them so Slade’s in control on top.  Then Slade proceeds to lick every drop of sweat off of him.  And if they’re attracting even more stares now, well, neither Slade nor Jason are cognizant enough to notice.  

It’s not until Jason’s groaning in frustration rather than pleasure that Slade finally notices the sun’s dropped and they’ve been under their umbrella for hours.  

It’s been a beautiful way to spend an afternoon, Slade thinks.  Though he can admit it’s probably not the best way to enjoy sunny weather.  

“We're going to be late,” Jason groans, tugging Slade’s hair to force Slade’s mouth off of him. 

Slade takes just enough time to realize it's dark around them.  “We're already late,” Slade answers.  “Doesn't matter if we're more late.”  He focuses back on Jason’s chest.

Jason keeps his hand in Slade's hair and uses his other arm to push at Slade’s chest, trying to gain some distance between them so he can actually think.  “There's a difference between five minutes late and an hour late.”

Slade smirks down at him.  “We're going to be later than that.  We'll tell them we had plane trouble.” He's able to dip his head down an inch before Jason's pulling him back by the hair again. 

“I'm not cumming in my swim trunks, Slade,” Jason sighs, sounding mildly annoyed.

“Fine,” Slade relents, because if Jason's calling him by his name instead of calling him an asshole it means he's getting close to actually being angry.  “This job better be fast,” he gripes as he pulls himself up.  He extends his hand for Jason to grab. 

Jason looks at the sliver of sun left in the sky, runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, and then grabs Slade's hand to help hoist him up.  “We still need to go back to the room and change.” He cringes. “We're going to be so fucking late.”

Slade shrugs at him.  “We aren't late.  I told them after sunset, so we'll be on time no matter when we go to meet them, alright, sweetheart?” He chuckles. “No one's going to fire me because I'm late.”

Jason rolls his eyes as he lets Slade wrap an arm around his waist and lead him back to their hotel.  “Right, because you're in such high demand.”

Slade smirks at him.  “Fix that tone, sweetheart.  Doesn't sound awestruck enough.”

Jason leans into him.  “That's because I was going for sarcasm.”

Their employer does not seem upset at all at having to wait for them.  They meet her in a brightly lit reception area, and she leads them to an office with a thick oak desk and a high-backed chair that she slides into. 

Jason might feel a little stupid dressed in his Red Hood uniform next to her grey pantsuit, especially with how she keeps glancing at him. 

But Slade’s dressed as Deathstroke, complete with his full face mask, so if anything they're dressed in the majority.

It's not until after she gives them the location and the target who has the data they need to lift that Jason finally learns what all the staring has been about. 

“Didn't realize you picked up an apprentice, Deathstroke,” the woman says to Slade’s back as they go to leave. 

Jason freezes, but Slade keeps heading for the door.

“Not an apprentice,” Slade grumbles uncaringly.  “We're partners.”

Jason grins as his heart warms.  He doesn't bother to look behind him as he makes wide strides to catch up to Slade.

It turns out, they have to stalk their guy for five days before they finally learn that he carries the USB with all the information they need in his right pants pocket.  

On the downside, they had promised Roy they'd be back in Gotham by tomorrow, and the guy wants to get back to Star City because he's missing his daughter.  Jason refuses to ask him to stay any longer just so he and Slade can have a proper vacation day on the beach. 

On the upside, it gives them plenty of time to get some much-needed sun, even if it’s on rooftops as opposed to the beach, and Jason mastered pickpocketing before he was twelve. 

That means it’s short work once they actually identify the location of the drive.  

They manage to finish the day early enough that they're able to go back to the beach for a few hours before they’re running to catch their plane back.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Jason scrunches his nose as soon as he comes home to Slade in a bright red sweater with sprawling green leaves all outlined in white.  “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Slade shrugs as he looks down at himself.  “A Christmas sweater.  Your brother’s dragging us to a holiday party, isn’t he?  That’s what you wear to one of these things.  What are you wearing to it?”

Jason glances down at his typical dark tan cargo pants, black t-shirt, and brown leather jacket.  “This.”

Slade scrunches his nose right back, and Jason knows he’s being mocked.  “That’s not very holiday-spirit of you, is it?”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Never promised I would be.  He should be glad we agreed to come at all.”

Slade raises an eyebrow.  “Not looking forward to meeting Grayson’s friends then?”

“I doubt I’m going to ‘meet’ anybody,” Jason huffs, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.  “It’s probably just a bunch of masks getting together.  I’ve already met all of ‘em.”

“Mm.”  He frowns as he runs his hands down his sweater, smoothing it out even though it doesn’t have any wrinkles.  “You think?  Might make for some awkward conversations.  What are the chances we run into someone I’ve tried to kill before?” he asks.

Jason snorts.  “I don’t know; you tell me.  How many of Dick’s friends have you tried to kill?”

Slade shrugs.  “Oh, who can keep track?”

“So, probably a high chance then, I’m guessing,” Jason replies with a smirk.  “Maybe if you’d actually managed to kill them you could’ve avoided what’s bound to be some awkward conversations.”

“Might’ve made dating you a little more difficult,” Slade says before striding over to Jason and properly greeting him with a kiss.  “I think it worked out in my favor.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason asks, returning the kiss.  “Is this me hearing that you’re glad you got your ass kicked by some teenagers?” 

“Whatever you’d like to tell yourself about it,” Slade allows, wrapping his arms around Jason.  He sighs.  “I should probably change into something less bulky though.  Don’t want anyone thinking I’m smuggling in any guns.”

Jason snorts into Slade’s chest.  “Fuck that,” he replies, looking up at him.  “We should definitely smuggle in some guns.  How else are we going to threaten our way out if they get annoying?”

Slade blinks down at him.  “Okay,” he allows after a second.  “That means the sweater stays.”

“An unfortunate consequence of having a plan B,” Jason replies with a grin.

Dick meets them outside his apartment with two sweaters and a guilty smile on his face.  

“What the fuck is this?” Jason asks as a sweater is thrust into his hands.  He unfurls it and is suddenly staring at a reindeer with a light-up nose.  “This is obnoxious.”

“It’s an ugly sweater party,” Dick explains.  

“You didn’t think to warn me about that?” Jason asks, glancing at the sweater Slade’s holding, where the words, ‘Santa’s Favorite Ho,’ stare back at him.  He glances up at his brother.  “Really, Dick?  You get that Slade’s my fiance, right?  You didn’t think that’d be insulting?”

Dick’s hands immediately go up in surrender, his eyes wide.  “It’s not like I bought them for you guys !  I already had them in my closet.  Swear!”

Jason rolls his eyes but exchanges sweaters with Slade, because being called a whore is better than having to wear anything that lights up.  He shoves the reindeer back at Dick.  “Slade doesn’t need a sweater; his is ugly enough.”

Slade gives him a deadpan look.  “This is just a normal sweater.”

Jason raises an eyebrow at him.  “You wanna be wearing a light-up reindeer all night instead?”

It effectively shuts him up.  

Jason slides off his leather jacket and hands it to Slade before he’s pulling on the stupid sweater proclaiming that he’s a ho, because if he doesn’t Dick will just keep bothering him about it.  He’s obnoxious like that.   

Except his brother doesn’t look any less guilty.  

Jason sighs as he pulls the sweater over his head.  “What else did you do that’ll piss me off?”

“Nothing!” Dick replies too quickly before he’s avoiding eye contact.

“That bad?” Jason asks as he takes his jacket back from Slade and throws it on.  “What?  What did you do?”  He’s very tempted to just turn around and leave.  It’s not too late.  

Dick shrugs.  “Nothing!  I swear nothing!  Just … these are friends from work, you know?”

“Yeah, you’ve told me.  Titans, I assume,” Jason replies, but it just makes Dick look guiltier.  Which means that he’s not talking about his night job, but the one he has during the day.  “Except that’s not the job you were talking about, is it?” he asks, knowing the answer but not wanting to believe it. 

Dick nods quickly but doesn’t give him an official answer.  

Jason glares back.  “You did not just trick your dead, crime lord brother and his internationally-wanted mercenary fiance into attending a party full of cops.”

Dick shrugs helplessly.  “Well, it’s not like they’re going to recognize you,” he mumbles at the ground.

This is possibly the stupidest situation Jason’s ever found himself in.  He can’t fathom why Dick would even want them here in the first place.  “Exactly who do they think I am then?”

“My roommate from when I went to the academy,” Dick answers, no longer looking at the ground but still avoiding eye contact.

Jason blinks at him, feeling the rush of anger as he realizes exactly what that means.  “You told these douchenozzles I’m a cop ?” he hisses.

Dick immediately holds his hands out in surrender.  “No! Of course not!  I know how you feel about cops,” he answers quickly.  “I told them you flunked out.

That just makes things worse.  “You told these douchenozzles I’m too stupid to be a cop?”

“What?  So you would have preferred it if they did think you were a cop?” 

Jason clenches his fist but resists the temptation to punch Dick in the nose.  “Better that than someone who wants to be a cop but is too dumb to manage it!”

“It is pretty offensive, calling him too dumb to graduate from the police academy,” Slade says, his voice calm.  “Even if that wasn’t your intention,” he continues when Dick tries to defend himself.  Slade’s hand moves to Jason’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze.  “I think we need some time to process it.”

Jason breathes and tries to calm down.  “Yeah, I need to work through my anger.”

It has the opposite effect to what was intended; Dick’s guilty look disappears.  He glares at both of them and crosses his arms.  “No.  Absolutely not.  That’s not going to work this time.  The last time I left you two outside a party to ‘ deal with your anger ’,” he says, making air quotes, “you disappeared, and I didn’t see you for over a week.”

In retrospect, avoiding Dick for that long had probably been milking it a little too much.  Not that Jason would ever admit it.  He mimics his brother’s posture, crossing his arms and glaring back.  “I had a lot of anger to work through.”

“I accidentally called you Tim, Jason!” Dick snaps, rolling his eyes.  “That doesn’t warrant refusing to talk to me for over a week!”

“Well, don’t bring it up !  I’ll get mad all over again!” Jason replies, matching Dick’s irritation.  

Dick levels a look at him.  “Jason.”

Jason huffs and rolls his eyes, annoyed that Dick isn’t falling for his excuse to escape.  He probably should have known that it wouldn’t work a second time.  “An hour, and then we’re out of there.”

Dick perks right up, because of course he fucking does, and finally leads them into his apartment.  

The place has actually been cleaned and decked out in Christmas decorations, but Jason doesn’t get a chance to ask Dick who he managed to blackmail into helping him with it all, because he’s swept away to get introduced to people.  And without the brother explanation, and with how excited Dick looks to be guiding him around the room, introducing him to people, they definitely all think they’re banging.  The ‘Ho’ sweater Jason’s wearing probably doesn’t help either.  And Dick is either too dense to realize or, more likely, he doesn’t care.  Slade runs off the second he’s able to, because he’s an asshole, and Jason’s left alone with Dick to deal with all the knowing stares.

The whole being dead thing is maybe turning into more of a headache than it’s worth.  

Jason ducks out from under Dick’s arm and heads for the door as soon as his hour time limit has been reached, pulling Slade along behind him.  

Slade, of course, offers absolutely no sympathy.  “So, when did you start dating your brother?” he asks with a smirk as soon as they hit the sidewalk.  “And when were you going to tell me?  As your fiance, I think it’s my right to know these things.”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” Jason mutters, but he still lets Slade throw an arm over his shoulders. 

TBC 

Chapter Text

“This is going to suck,” Jason mutters, looking in the bathroom mirror as he tries to get his bowtie to be a bowtie instead of a weird piece of ribbon hanging around his neck.  “Why did we agree to this?”

Slade answers from the living room.  “Because it means a lot to your father.”

“Stop calling him that,” Jason demands, pulling a face and leaning out of the bathroom to glare at Slade properly.  Except Slade’s already in his tuxedo and he looks … so good.  All sharp lines at his large shoulders, cutting down and slimming his waist.  And maybe Jason abandons what he was about to complain about in exchange for staring at him. 

Slade smirks.  “Keep your mouth open like that, and I might be tempted to put something in it,” he warns smugly.  

Jason shuts his mouth so abruptly his teeth click together.  He’s blushing. If Slade’s growing smirk isn’t telling enough, then the heat spreading across his cheeks certainly is.  “I'm allowed to look,” he mutters. 

“Course you are,” Slade replies, his smirk only growing.  He approaches Jason and runs his hands up his chest.  “Look all you want.”

Jason leans into him and smiles.  “How about I do more than look at you later? When we don't have a stupid charity event to go to?”  He fingers Slade's perfectly straight and symmetrical bowtie.  “How'd you do this?”

Slade wraps his arms around Jason's waist, underneath his suit jacket.  He pulls him in even closer.  “Hm.  Going to have to let me get you undressed if you want help getting dressed.”

Jason rolls his eyes, but there's a smile on his face. “Flip that.  Help me get dressed and I'll let you help me get undressed later.”

Slade slowly drags his hands up Jason's chest and then keeps going until he reaches his bowtie.  “I assume I have to wait until the stupid charity event is over before I can rip these clothes off you?”  He holds on to the ends of the bowtie but doesn't do anything with it. 

Jason shakes his head.  “Fuck no.  You think I'm going to stay through the whole thing?  Just until we can leave without seeming rude.”

Slade smirks before he's leaning down and kissing him.  “I'm glad you hate parties.” 

“I do not,” Jason denies, lifting his chin up so Slade has access to the useless ribbon around his neck.  “Parties are fine. Just like fucking you more.”

Given the amount of parties they've been dodging when they can and leaving early when they can’t this holiday season, Slade doesn't believe that's true, but he won't bother to argue it.  He kisses Jason again instead.  “I'm happy with that stance just fine.”

They enter Wayne Manor through the backdoor so they can avoid all the paparazzi out front.  It means they have to get past the kitchen where all the caterers and servers are scrambling like headless chickens, but Jason winds through them effortlessly, and Slade has no problem following the path he makes.

They run into Damian as soon as they successfully make it into the ballroom, where the party’s already in full swing.  He glares at both of them.  “Tch. It doesn't count as actually attending if all you do is hide.”

“Relax, kid,” Slade says before Jason has a chance to.  “We weren't hiding. We just got here.”

Damian's glare doesn't let up.  “Then you are late.”

“Never said I wouldn't be, Little Demon,” Jason says with a smirk. 

Damian scowls at him as he crosses his arms.  “I am not little.”

“You should really argue both of those things, Dami,” Dick says as he approaches them.  He looks at Jason with a smile on his face.  “He's not a demon either.”

“He's at least half, thanks to his mother,” Jason replies.  “And at that point you're just arguing semantics.”

Damian rolls his eyes.  “Stop acting as if she's not your mother too.”

Dick frowns at Jason.  “Didn't realize you were that close to Talia.”

Jason gives Damian a pointed look before addressing Dick.  “Yeah, cause I didn't tell you.  When'd you get here?”

“About an hour ago,” Dick answers, thankfully taking the hint and dropping the subject.  He pulls him into a hug, which Jason only allows because it takes him by surprise.  “We were starting to worry you wouldn't show up.”

“That's because I really didn't want to come,” Jason answers into Dick's shoulder.  “Don't understand the point of these things.”

Jason's never understood it: spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on decorations and food and drinks so you can turn around and ask people for money.  Seems to Jason that Bruce could just skip the middleman and donate his party supplies money to charity.  Boom: no stupid party and people who need help are still taken care of.    

“It's about spreading the word and normalizing donating,” Dick answers, his smile growing as he remembers saying something similar to a thirteen-year-old Jason.

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Yeah, yeah.  Sure.  The only reason these rich fucks donate is to brag that they do,” he grumbles.  And he probably said it too loud, because now he’s getting some glares.  Not that he really cares.  He used to have to force himself to behave at these things because he was a Wayne, and he had to be proper, and polite, and blah blah blah.  But that part of his life is over; the last name Wayne is buried with the fifteen-year-old boy he used to be.  

“Not everyone is as heartless as you seem to think they are, Jay,” Dick lightly chastises. 

“If they actually cared, then they wouldn’t need some extravagant party to convince them to let go of a few dollars,” Jason gripes, still not bothering to keep his voice down.  

“That’s why it’s important to remind them why they should care,” Bruce explains quietly from behind Jason.  “And if it takes a party to do that, then so be it.  Better to spend the money to educate the city than just donate it quietly.”  He smiles as Jason turns around.  “I’m very happy you made it, Jaylad.”

It’s an old nickname Jason hasn’t heard since he was a teenager.  It throws him because he has no idea how to feel about it.  He feels both too young and too old all at once.  Slade’s arm curls around his shoulders like he somehow knows what a blow the name is.  “Yeah, well,” Jason struggles out, “next time you can invite me yourself instead of sending Dami to guilt trip me into it.”

Bruce’s smile dims, and Jason immediately regrets saying it.  

“He means, ‘thank you for having us’,” Slade translates.  His arm tightens around Jason’s shoulders, and Jason immediately leans into it, appreciative of the comfort.  “Where do we go to donate?”

Bruce points to a table over by the bar.  It’s being manned by a woman in a too-expensive sparkling dress with a plastic smile on her face.  “Donations are open for the entirety of the event.  Emily can take care of you.”

“Thanks,” Slade says with a nod before he steers Jason over to the table.  

Jason lets himself be guided, happy for the out Slade provided.  “Thanks,” he murmurs.  He tries not to replay a better version of his conversation with Bruce in his head.  One where he wasn’t an asshole to his dad just because he’d felt a little flustered.  He’s not very successful.  “Might’ve fucked that up a little bit.”

“He’ll get over it,” Slade replies, squeezing Jason into his side. 

“We’re not actually going to donate though, right?” Jason asks.  “Better to give it direct to the soup kitchens and shit, rather than give it to some middleman charity that’s going to take a percentage off the top.”

“No, you’ve never complained to me about charities before, so I had no idea how you felt about them,” Slade replies sarcastically.  

“You’re trying to be funny,” Jason replies.  “It’s not working, but I see the attempt.”

Slade rolls his eyes.  “Felt like you needed an escape,” he explains.  “Just ask her a question or two so it looks like we’re donating something, and then we can get a drink.”

And, really, Slade should have known better than to leave the questions to Jason.  He can’t honestly say he’s surprised when Jason’s first question to the poor woman manning the donation booth is, “How much does your CEO make a year and how do they have the audacity to live with themselves?”

Slade doesn’t bother to point out to Jason that it’s Bruce Wayne who heads up this particular charity; he’s probably already well aware.  

“I meant more of a softball question,” Slade says as the woman stares at Jason with an open mouth.  “Something like, ‘Who will I be helping with my donation?’”

“If I gave you a thousand dollars, how much of that money would actually go to the people who need it?” Jason asks instead.

The woman looks at Slade for help, but he just sighs and gives her a shrug.  She looks back at Jason.  “I- I don’t-”

“How many of the organizations that you’re providing money to are actually vetted?” Jason continues.  

“We-we do vet the charities we-,” the woman stutters. 

Jason leans forward.  “That’s great!  And what does that process look like?”  

“We-we do vet charities that we-” she repeats.  

“Right, yeah, you’ve said that already,” Jason replies with a frown.  “I wanna know what that process is .  It can’t be a very good one, since shit charities keep getting funding.”

“Stop being a little shit,” Slade says with a sigh.  More because they’ve been here long enough that it looks believable they’ve donated something than because he feels pity for the woman on the other end of Jason’s scorn. 

“Just trying to find out where my money’s going,” Jason grumbles as he crosses his arms.  

Slade starts leading Jason towards the bar.  He doesn’t miss the relieved look on the woman’s face.  “You are aware that Wayne owns that charity,” Slade says once they get far enough away that he’s confident the woman won’t overhear them.  “If you really wanted to talk process-”

Jason snorts.  “Yeah, I don’t think our relationship could handle that type of argument.”

Slade lets the subject drop.  “What do you want to drink?” he asks instead.  “Whiskey?”  Because while Jason’s normally a beer drinker, Slade’s willing to suspect he’ll want something stronger to get him through the night.  

Jason pulls away from Slade to run both hands through his hair.  “Think they have something stronger?” he asks with a sigh.  “Everclear?  Golden Grain?”  He leans his side against the bar as he faces Slade.  “Something that’ll get me blacked out so I don’t have to remember being here?”

Slade moves closer to him.  “We’ve been here long enough.  We can leave,” Slade says, despite the fact that they haven’t even been here for twenty minutes yet.  

“Yeah?” Jason asks quietly, looking up at Slade.  

He looks small, hunched in on himself, and Slade feels equal parts murderous and protective.  “Of course we can.  I got to see you in a suit tonight.  If you’ll remember that was my only goal of the evening.”

“I just fucking hate these things,” Jason murmurs.  “A bunch of too-rich people pretending like they care.  Spending a fuckton of money on new fucking dresses and jewelry and suits so they can show off how rich they are while donating fucking pennies to people who are literally starving on the street.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” Slade answers back, speaking just as quietly as Jason.  “Let’s go home.”  He rubs a hand down Jason’s back before he leers at him.  “If I remember correctly, someone promised that I could undress them later.”

Jason smiles back.  “Seems like the perfect excuse to leave early.  We’ll just explain to Bruce that you were too horny to stay.”

“Yes,” Slade agrees, nodding.  “I’m very pent up.  Who can blame me?  When my fiance looks like this?”

“Are you two going to kiss under the mistletoe so you can move out of the way, or are you just going to keep staring at each other all night?”

Jason gives a small jump at Steph’s voice, too wrapped up in Slade to have noticed her approach.  “Huh?” he turns his head towards her, standing with her arms crossed like she’s waiting in line for the bar.  He realizes that’s probably exactly what she’s doing as he remembers where they are.  

Steph smirks and points up.  “Mistletoe?”  Her grin widens as Jason and Slade both look up to see the sprig for the first time.  “Or were you standing so close together for another reason?  Whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears?”

Slade grips Jason’s waist as he tries to pull away, drawing him back in.  “Practicing my romancing,” Slade answers her with a grin before he turns back to Jason.  “Well, sweetheart?  Want to take advantage of the tradition?”

“Really?” Jason huffs, but he’s smiling.  

“I’m happy to take the excuse,” Slade answers, leaning in closer.  

Jason rolls his eyes even as his arms come around Slade’s neck.  He pulls him in and then they’re kissing in front of all the rich fucks of Gotham.  Jason can only hope some of them are homophobic and are getting offended by the display.   

Then there’s a flash, and Jason immediately tenses up as Slade jerks back.  Jason looks around wildly, no idea where the flash had come from.  But Slade must have seen it because he strides away, straight towards some skinny middle-aged man.  He’s in an ill-fitting suit; a clear sign that he’s out of his element. 

“You guys are so cute it’s sickening,” Steph says with a smile and a shake of her head as her eyes track Slade.  “I assume he knows how much you hate reporters and having your picture taken?  You think he’s going to kill that guy for you?”

“We aren’t that dramatic,” Jason scoffs.  “He’ll probably just break his camera.” 

“I think he took the picture with his phone.”

“Even better,” Jason replies with a shrug.

Slade’s got the man boxed in against the wall as he glares down at him.  Jason thinks he might be able to see the man shaking from here.  He makes hesitant and jerky moves towards his pocket before he withdraws his phone.  Slade grabs it, but the other man doesn’t release it from his grip.  It looks like he’s pleading.

Probably giving Slade some sob story about how it’s his livelihood or something similar.  

“Oop.  Dick Grayson coming in hot,” Steph says like she’s a sports announcer.

Jason’s across the room too fast to hear the rest of Steph’s commentary.  “Dick, hey, I needed to talk to you about something,” Jason says, grabbing his arm and stopping him in his tracks.  

Dick spares a look at Slade, his face uneasy before he gives his attention to Jason.  “Can’t it wait?  If I don’t stop him then Bruce is going to.”

And, yeah, that’d be decidedly worse than Dick intervening.  “Where’s Bruce?”

“He was talking to Commissioner Gordon last I saw him, but I’m sure that won’t last long if he sees Slade threatening one of his guests.”

Jason scowls.  “He’s not a guest.  He’s one of those fucking paparazzi that snuck in.  He was taking pictures of us.”

“That’s still not a reason to assault someone, Little Wing,” Dick says quietly.  Gently.  He tries to pull his arm out of Jason’s hold, but Jason just strengthens his grip.

Dick’s gentle voice just makes Jason more irritated.  “He’s not assaulting anyone.  He’s just getting rid of the pictures.”

“Right.  No.  Of course he isn’t,” Dick replies quickly when he notices Jason’s anger.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean that he’s actually assaulting someone.  But it does look like it.”

Jason glares.  He turns to look at Slade, so he can point out all the ways it doesn’t look like an assault, but Slade’s already making his way over to them.  

“It’s taken care of,” Slade says as soon as he makes eye contact with Jason.  He finishes walking over and holds up two pieces of a cell phone.  It’s been snapped in half, the battery hanging out of one piece, and the two sections of the screen messes of spider-webbing glass.

And, fuck, that’s some good hand strength.  That is incredibly hot. 

Jason might get too turned on.  He swallows.  “Okay.  We need to go home now.” 

“What?  But you just got here,” Dick says, looking heartbroken.

Jason can’t bring himself to care.  “No.  We have to leave,” he repeats, grabbing Slade’s arm and leading the way back through the kitchens, heading out the way they had come in.  

Slade follows behind him, slipping his arm out of Jason’s grip so he can lace their fingers together instead.  “You okay?”

“Yeah.  Fine.”  Jason turns back and grins at Slade, not slowing his pace.  “Remember how you promised to rip all my clothes off after this thing was over?”

Slade smirks back.  “I do seem to recall something about that.  Yes.”

“Good.  Cause I’d really like you to deliver as soon as possible.”

TBC

Chapter Text

Slade comes home to Roy and Jason, turned towards each other on the couch and leaning in needlessly close.

“Roy,” Slade greets.  “What did I tell you about finding your own boyfriend?”

Jason rolls his eyes, but finally pulls his gaze away from Roy to look at Slade.  “Welcome home, dear.”

“You can have the title ‘boyfriend’,” Roy gives in easily, leaning back against the couch as he turns his head to look at Slade.  “I took the title ‘heterosexual life mate’ years ago and I'll never give it up.”

Jason gives Roy a deadpan look.  “Never again do I ever want to hear those words, in that order, come out of your mouth.”

Roy squints at him.  “Is it because of the first part?  Is it offensive to call you a heterosexual?” He scratches his chin.  “But if I go around telling everyone we're life mates they're bound to get the wrong impression.”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Normal people would just call it a friendship.”

“Pft, that is so belittling to our relationship, Jaybird,” Roy pouts.  “I can't believe you even mentioned it.”

“Is your better version around?” Slade asks Roy, looking around the floor of their apartment.  He'd just come from a job, and, as is customary, as no less than ten weapons on his person.  But he's not going to start disarming if there's a kid running around who doesn't know the difference between a gun and a toy.  

And not just because Jason would never forgive him if he was responsible for Lian blowing her face off.

“She's with Dick right now,” Jason answers for Roy.  “I said we could watch her tonight.”  He grins.  “Roy's got a date.”

Roy groans.  “Yeah, a shitty blind date that Dick set up and guilt-tripped me into.  Don't remind me.”

“I hope it goes well,” Slade replies.  “Whatever gets you to stop flirting with my fiance.” 

“Oh?  Thought he'd been downgraded to boyfriend?”

“Only when we're fighting,” Jason answers with a grin.

“Having dinner here or with your date?” Slade asks as he starts unholstering weapons and putting them on the coffee table. 

“Those go in the bedroom when you're done,” Jason demands with a frown.  “I already cleaned the coffee table once today.

“Wish I was staying for dinner,” Roy answers as Slade nods at Jason.  “Jay's making some pot roast something in the slow cooker.  Smells delicious.  But I assume my date will be suspicious if I tell her I don't wanna eat anything after I agreed to go to a restaurant with her.”

“Dumb move,” Jason says with a smirk.  He turns towards Slade.  “It’s a honeyed pot roast.” 

Roy slumps back against the couch.  “Don't hafta rub it in, Jaybird,” he pouts.

Jason ignores him.  “Wanted to make something sweet Lian might like, in case Dick doesn’t end up feeding her.”

“Dick better not feed her,” Roy grumbles.  “She’ll get food poisoning and be dead by morning.  Alfred better be the one feeding her.”

“Dick’s at the manor?” Jason asks with a frown.  “Didn’t think he was staying in town.”

Roy shrugs.  “That’s what he told me.  Why?  You wanna go over there?”

Jason’s frown just deepens.  “Nah.  Just thought he’d take her to Bludhaven is all.”  But there’s something off about his tone. 

Now Slade’s frowning.  He stops disarming himself to look at Roy, but all he gets is a shrug in return.  “There something wrong with the manor?” he guesses.

“No.  Course not,” Jason’s fast to reply.  He bites his bottom lip.  “Just .. you know … Bruce isn’t as secretive about the vigilante stuff as he likes to think he is.”

Roy softly kicks Jason’s foot.  “Ah, Jaybird, neither am I,” he laughs.  “She’ll be fine.  I know Bruce has an addiction with turning kids into capes, but she’s six.  That’s too young even for him.”

Jason shrugs.  “Yeah, I know.  Just don’t want that type of lifestyle getting … like … glorified for her.”

Roy gives him a soft smile.  “I get you.  I’ve got the same concerns.  We’ll have that talk with her once she gets a bit older, and she can understand it better.”

Slade doesn’t miss the ‘we’ in that sentence.  He should have figured Jason would end up co-parenting Roy’s kid.  ‘Heterosexual life mates’ probably isn’t a far-off description of their too-close friendship.  He gets back to work disarming his guns and putting them on the coffee table.  “Yeah, have fun with that one.”

“Oh, right, like you won’t be helping with that conversation too, big guy,” Roy replies with a grin.  

“Meta, remember?  I never stay hurt for long; I’ve got no stories to scare her out of being a mask.”

“Says the guy that lost his eye,” Jason points out, matching Roy’s grin. 

“That wasn’t from a job,” Slade replies.  “But if you ever want to scare her out of marrying a military woman I might have some stories for her.”

“Don’t offer if you don’t mean it,” Roy warns.  “I might just take you up on it.”

“Be careful what you ask for; I might just end up traumatizing her,” Slade says, matching Roy’s tone.  He begins to pick all his discarded weapons back up so he can move them into the bedroom closet.  

“You can try,” Roy replies, still smiling.  “She’s tougher than she looks.  Plus, she likes you.  Wouldn’t stop talking about how you were the best at fort building last time I picked her up from here.”

Slade almost drops his armful of weapons.  “She did?  She does?”

Jason’s absolutely beaming at him, and Slade can’t stop the thrill of pride he gets from that look.  Even though he has no idea what he’d done that makes Lain think he excels at stacking blankets over couch cushions.

Roy laughs, nodding.  “She did and she do.”  He nudges Jason’s shoulder.  “She’s very excited to come back over here.  Wouldn’t stop talking about it on the plane.”

Jason’s smile turns soft.  “Yeah?  No shit?”

“Yeah.  No shit,” Roy repeats, smiling.  “It was a struggle getting her to sleep last night she was so excited.”

“Well, obviously she’s welcome here whenever she wants,” Jason says.  “We had a great time with her too.  Didn’t we, Slade?”

Slade gives a jerky nod.  “Yeah.  Always happy to brush up on my fort-building skills,” he manages to get out.  He gives a single nod to the weapons in his arms and then another to the bedroom.  “I’m going to go put these away.”

“Mmhm,” Jason hums, looking happy and content and relaxed.  “Love you, Slade.”

It’s not a phrase they use often.  They express their love in gestures and actions, rarely ever in words.  And Slade can’t help but think that Jason’s telling him he loves him in this particular moment because he’d managed to do something right with Lian.  And even though he still has no idea why the kid likes him, he still feels that thrill of pleasure in his chest that he’s managed to make Jason proud of him.  It’s not a feeling he’s very familiar with.  “Love you, too.”  He detours for Jason before he heads to the bedroom.  Kisses the top of his head because ‘love’ always seems like too small a word for how he feels about Jason; he needs to show him too.

“The world’s deadliest mercenary is so soft on you, dude,” Slade hears once he’s entered the bedroom.  

“Yeah, well,” Jason mumbles.  “Feeling’s mutual.”

An hour later Dick knocks on their door with a smiling Lian in tow.  

She darts into the apartment as soon as the door opens.  “JayJay!” she yells, excited and happy.  She runs towards him with her arms spread wide.

Jason crouches down to meet her hug.  “Lian!” he yells back, matching the enthusiasm.  Then he grabs her, stands up, and spins her around.  “I’ve missed you!”  

“I missed you, too!” Lian replies, bouncing on her toes as soon as Jason sets her back down on the floor.  

“And how about your poor, dear, neglected father?” Roy asks, looking down at her with an exaggerated pout.  “Did you miss him?”

“Of course I missed you, Daddy!” Lian exclaims, running and giving him a hug next.  

Roy picks her up just like Jason had, but he doesn’t spin her.  Instead, he squeezes her to his chest.  “I’m so glad to hear that, Dart.  Cause I missed you so bad.”

He sets her down and she goes for Slade next.  She doesn’t run at him, which Slade is very thankful for, but she does hold her arms out in expectation of a hug.  

“I missed you, too, Slade!” she declares.

And Slade freezes for just a second, as if he doesn’t know what to do despite the fact that both Jason and Roy had just given him two very good examples.  She’s just starting to look a little unsure of herself before Slade pulls his shit together, drops to one knee, and pulls her into a hug.  “I missed you, too, Lian.”

When he pulls away Jason has that beaming smile again, Roy is giving him a smug look, and Dick looks flabbergasted.

“Did you have a good time with your Uncle Dick?” Roy asks before Dick has a chance to question Slade's sanity out loud. 

Lian jerks her head up and down.  “Uh huh.  He’s funny.  Did you know he can walk on his hands?” she asks excitedly. 

“I did know that!” Roy replies, mimicking her tone.  “Did you know he can also do a cartwheel?”

“I can do a cartwheel too!” Lian exclaims, whirling around to face Dick again.  “You wanna see?”

“I don’t think there’s enough room to do it in here, pumpkin,” Roy says before Dick can answer.  “But we can stop by the manor before we go home, and you can show him then, okay?”

“Okay!” Lian agrees easily.  

“Did you eat, Lian?” Jason asks.

Lian nods.  “Yep!  I had a sandwich!”

“We ate a couple hours ago,” Dick answers.  “Alfred made lasagna, but she didn’t like it.  He made her a PB&J.”  He looks apologetically at Roy.  “I’m not really sure if that was enough, but she insisted she wasn’t hungry after that.”

Jason kneels on the floor, eye level with Lian.  “Slade and I were going to eat dinner in a bit.  I made a pot roast.  Do you want to try some?” he asks quietly. 

Lian shakes her head.  “I don’t like pot roast.”

“Have you had it before?” Jason asks.  

“No,” Lian admits, her voice quiet as she looks at the floor.  

Jason reaches for both her hands and starts swinging them back and forth.  It makes Lian look back up at him, and he smiles at her.  “Remember how you didn’t like zucchini bread until you tried mine?”

Lian smiles back.  “Yeah.  That was really good.”

“Do you think maybe you’d like pot roast if you tried what I made?”

Lian bites her lip.  “Will you be mad at me if I don’t like it?”

“I will never ever be mad at you for not liking something,” Jason promises.

“Okay,” Lian says, nodding.  “I’ll try one bite.”

“One bite,” Jason repeats as he nods back.  “That sounds like an excellent deal.  Want to help me set the table?”

“Yeah!” Lian exclaims, excited all over again as she darts into the kitchen. 

“I swear that man is the child whisperer,” Roy says, staring after them.  “It’s enough to make a man jealous.”

“Yeah,” Dick agrees, but he’s staring at Slade.  “Some people surprise you.”

“Don’t you have a date to get to?” Slade asks Roy, hoping it’s enough to prompt them both into leaving.  Grayson looks like he has something to say to him, and, judging by the look on his face, it’s going to be something emotional.  Slade very much does not want to hear it.  

“Ah, shit,” Roy mutters, glancing at the time on his phone.  “Yeah, I do.”  He heads into the kitchen.  “Hey, Lian?  Your loving papa needs to leave for a few hours, okay?  You going to be alright here?”

It, unfortunately, leaves Slade alone with Dick.  

“You’re pretty good with Lian,” Dick tells him quietly.  

He’s familiar enough with Grayson to know that it’s his roundabout way of getting to some kind of point.  “Yeah.  So?”

Dick shrugs, giving him a small smile.  “Just pointing it out.  It’s not easy to change.”

Slade frowns, and not just because Grayson’s read the situation completely wrong.  He hasn’t changed, and he’s absolute shit with kids; Lian’s just somehow managed to be the exception.  But he doesn’t particularly care what the hero thinks of him.  No, it’s much worse than that.  He’s halfway certain Grayson’s working himself up to have some sort of heart-to-heart with him.  No way in hell he’s letting that happen.  

Slade gives him his filthiest grin.  “What can I say?  Your baby brother really rubs off on me in just the right way.”

Grayson blanches.  “What is wrong with you?  I was trying to be nice!” he snaps.

Slade lifts an eyebrow.  “Were you?  Sounded like you were assuming that the only way I could be good with children is because I changed recently.  Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?”

“That wasn’t how I meant it!”  Grayson glares.  

“And yet …”

“Just because you assume everyone’s issuing backhanded compliments doesn’t mean everyone is,” Grayson points out.  “All I was trying to say is that it’s nice to see Jason happy.  But, obviously, everything’s gotta be a fight with you.”

Slade hums.  “If you really like seeing Jason happy, then you should stop trying to manipulate him.”

Grayson’s face darkens.  “Not everyone’s you, Slade.  I don’t manipulate the people I love.”

“Is that really a lie you’re trying to sell?  Your entire family’s full of manipulative bastards.  You tricked Jason into going to a party he’d sooner rather bomb than attend.  Your father sent Damian to guilt trip him into going to some charity bullshit he hates, just so that he didn’t have to be the one to invite him.  And that’s just been within the last month.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Grayson replies, but he’s starting to look unsure.  “If he really didn’t want to come then he wouldn’t have.”

“You should learn to put those detective skills to more use,” Slade advises.  “The next time you wonder if Jason is happy to be somewhere or not, all you have to do is look at his face.”

Silence settles over them as Grayson processes that.  

Jason’s laughing voice eventually cuts across the silence.  “Alright!  Stop hovering!  Lian and I will both miss you very much.  Now stop acting like you’re going off to war, and go on your stupid date!” 

Roy appears back in the living room first.  Jason follows after him, shoving at Roy’s back with one hand and balancing Lian on his hip with the other.  He looks at Dick.  “Can you escort this man out of my house, please?”

Roy’s hand clutches at his chest.  “‘This man’?  I am off to experience trauma, and you’re treating me like a stranger?”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Goodbye, Roy.”

“Yeah,” Dick agrees quietly.  “You just have to ask, Little Wing.”

Jason frowns at him.  “Uh huh.  Well … this is me asking.  Both of you get out so Slade and I can hang out with Lian.”

Lian smiles from her place tucked into Jason’s side.  “Bye, Daddy!” 

“Bye, Pumpkin!  Daddy misses you already!”

When they’re finally shepherded out the door - Roy most definitely late for his date - Jason turns to Slade.  “You say something to Dick?  He was looking at me like I died again.”

Slade shrugs.  “Nothing he shouldn’t have already known.”

“So you did then,” Jason says with a sigh, but he doesn’t look upset.  “If he gets clingier I’m blaming you.”  He stretches out the arm Lian’s resting against and leans back a bit, so he can look her in the eye.  “Dinner won’t be ready for another hour.  Do you have something you want to play while we wait?”

A smile blooms across Lian’s face.  “Snow!” she declares happily.  

Slade is about to explain to her that snow isn’t a game, but Jason answers before he can.  “Alright,” Jason says with a smile and a nod.  “Let’s go play snow.  Will you help me track down your warm clothes?”

Lian nods before Jason lets her down, and she makes a run for the bag Roy had left behind for her.  

The game of snow, it turns out, is identical to building a snowman.  Slade racks his brain, but he thinks this might be his first time playing this game.  Luckily, Lian insists he’s just as good at this as he is at building forts.  Much like piling sheets on couches, Slade fails to identify how someone can be good at rolling snow, but he still takes the compliment.  

They had taken the trek to Robinson Park since the safehouse they’re currently at is surrounded by dark streets and even darker alleys, and, as Jason explains it, is no place for a snowman.

And Slade has to admit that it’s worth the walk.  It’s all fresh white snow here, and Slade can almost forget how dirty the rest of the city is. 

“His head’s a little small,” Jason says, hands on his hips as he inspects their work.  

“That’s cause he’s humble,” Lian replies as she packs more snow at the base.  

Which is when Slade notices.  “Lian, where are your gloves?”  He picks her up, away from the snow freezing her uncovered fingers.  He yanks his own gloves off with his teeth and lets them drop to the ground as he curls his warmer hands around Lian’s freezing ones.  

Lian suddenly looks like she’s going to cry.  “I don’t know,” she replies quietly, not looking at Slade.  “Are you mad at me?”

“Course we aren’t mad, Pumpkin,” Jason answers, stepping in close to Slade so Lian is sandwiched between their warmth.  

“We’re just worried about you,” Slade explains gruffly.  “Snow can be dangerous if you aren’t dressed properly for it.”

“I know she was wearing them when we left the house,” Jason says like he’s talking to himself.  He looks devastated. 

Slade shifts Lian so he’s holding her with one hand.  He uses his other hand to wind around Jason’s waist and hug him closer.  

Jason yanks his own gloves off and moves so he replaces Slade trying to warm Lian’s hands up.  He breathes hot breath on them.  “Can you still feel everything?  Do your fingers hurt?”

Lian nods.  “They’re fine,” she says quietly, still looking like she might break into panicked crying.  

Jason looks seconds away from crying himself.  

“Everything’s fine,” Slade says for everyone’s sakes, including his own.  “I think it’s time for dinner.  Let’s go home and get warm.  Okay?”  He receives jerky nods from both of them.  

They speedwalk home, Jason and Lian wearing twin looks of worry the whole trip.  

But Lian’s hands are perfectly fine, the redness in them disappearing within the first five minutes of them being in their warm apartment.  

The pot roast seems to cheer both of them up; Lian demands a lot more than just one bite, and Jason beams that she likes another of his recipes.  

Roy picks his daughter up a little over an hour later, refusing to talk about his date other than saying, “I think I might have preferred going off to war.”

Lian asks if next time they visit they can have a slumber party, and Jason readily agrees.  Slade knows without being told that the next time the Harpers visit it’ll be at their two-bedroom apartment near Robinson Park so Lian can have a sleepover with a proper bed and a park nearby.  

Roy and Lian make their leave, and the apartment suddenly feels a lot quieter than before Lian and her dad had shown up.  

“You were really wonderful today,” Jason says quietly as he washes their crockpot in the sink.  “I can’t believe I didn’t notice she lost her gloves.  I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Slade rubs down his back.  “Kids lose things, sweetheart.  And she’s fine; no harm done.”

Some of the tension leaves Jason’s shoulders.  “You seem a lot more comfortable with her.”

“Yeah,” Slade agrees.  “She’s a good kid.  Baffling that half of her is Harper.”

Jason laughs.  “No argument there.”

“It was a good idea,” Slade says.  “Babysitting her.”

“Yeah?” Jason asks with a smile.  “Getting more comfortable at the thought of kids?”

Slade nods.  “I am.  Surprisingly.”

Jason spins and turns into Slade’s chest, leaning back against the counter.  His smile grows.  “Yeah?  Better enough that we can have a serious talk about adoption?”

Slade grips Jason’s waist and hoists him up on the counter before fitting himself between Jason’s legs.  He presses in close, his mouth going to Jason’s neck.  “Better enough to put a baby in you,” he murmurs.

Jason snorts.  “Think you might need to take biology again.”

Slade groans quietly against Jason’s neck and squeezes one of Jason’s thick thighs.  “Maybe you can give Daddy a private lesson.”

Jason shoves Slade off him, and it comes as such a surprise that Slade stumbles away.  Jason’s eyes are wide, a terrified look on his face.  “Ohmigawd.  If our kid ends up calling one of us Daddy I’m going to throw up.”

Slade can’t help it.  He laughs.   

TBC

Chapter Text

Jason is pressed along Slade’s back, arms wrapped around his stomach as he watches the omelette Slade’s attempting to cook.  “You see how it’s starting to form edges?” he asks.  “Don’t flip it yet,” Jason admonishes as soon as Slade makes a move.  “It’s not ready yet, but it’s getting close.  Flip it too soon and we’ll be having scrambled eggs again.”

If Slade didn’t enjoy Jason’s hands-on approach to teaching him how to cook so much he might make the argument that scrambled eggs and omelettes are basically the same thing, so learning how to flip an egg properly is a useless skill.  “How do I flip it like you do?  That wrist flick thing,” Slade asks instead.

Jason grins and squeezes his waist.  “Flip it with the spatula today, babe.  I don’t feel like cleaning egg off the floor.”

Slade grunts and twirls the spatula just to prove he can.  It doesn’t have the same weight as a dagger, but the motion is largely the same.  

“Make sure the edges aren’t sticking,” Jason reminds him.  “ Gently .”

Slade nods and tucks the spatula under the egg.  Except, he’s clearly not gentle enough because the fucking omelette rips.  “ Fuck. Piece of shit ,” Slade growls, low and vicious.  

Jason chuckles and rubs at Slade’s shoulder.  “It’s fine.  Keep going.”

“Already ruined it,” Slade grumbles, feeling frustrated with himself.  How hard is it to make sure an egg doesn’t stick to a pan?

“Oh, you did not,” Jason says, his hand still rubbing at Slade’s shoulder.  “It’s fine.  And it’s probably ready to be flipped.  You okay to keep going?  Or you want me to do it?”

Jason had learned quickly not to push when it came to cooking.  There’s something about it that leaves Slade easily frustrated.  The first and last time Jason had encouraged him to keep cooking through his irritation Slade had thrown the pan so hard he’d put a hole in their wall.  

“I got it,” Slade replies, relaxing in Jason’s hold.  All the touching really did do wonders for keeping most of his anger at bay.  

Jason leans into him and reaches for the cabinet above the stove.  He takes down a plate.  “Here,” he says, placing it on the counter.  “Just scoot the omelette on the plate, and then you can use the plate to flip it.”

Slade manages to create two more rips in their breakfast but does successfully get it onto the plate.  After that, it’s easy to flip it back into the pan.  

Jason kisses the back of his neck.  “Good job.”

It’d sound patronising coming from anyone else, but there’s excitement in Jason’s voice that sounds genuine.  His ability to not sound condescending when congratulating someone on what should be a simple task might be one of the reasons kids love him so much.  

“It’s all downhill from here,” Jason says.  He hugs him from behind and then just stays there, his arms wrapped around Slade’s stomach.  “Give it, like, two minutes and then check on it.  Keep pushing up the edges so it doesn’t stick.  I’ll go make our toast.”

He goes to pull away, but Slade catches one of his wrists before he can get far.  “Stay here,” he demands.  “We don’t need toast.”

Jason chuckles and settles against Slade’s back again. 

They both hear their living room window open and Jason sighs.  

“That’s for you,” Slade says.

“It’s for both of you, actually,” Steph answers before the window slides shut again and she comes into the kitchen.  She leans against the doorframe, but neither turn to look at her.  “What?  No waffles?”

“Maybe I would’ve made some if you told me you were coming over,” Jason says.  “It’s probably done now,” he tells Slade.  “Check it.”

Slade does, careful around the parts that were coming apart.  The bottom has a slight tan to it, and Slade transfers it back onto the plate without having to be told.  

“I did tell you I was coming over,” Steph answers.  “It’s not my fault you don’t check your phone.”

Jason pulls away from Slade, patting the pockets of his sweatpants and realizing that he left his phone in the bedroom.  “Ah.  Whoops.”  He moves to the utensil drawer.  “You want some?”

Steph shrugs as she moves to a chair.  “Sure.”

Jason grabs three forks and makes his way to the table, grabbing his mug of tea on the way.  He passes them out as Slade puts the single omelette between all of them.  “So?  What’s up?  Case?” Jason asks before taking the first bite.

“Please.  You think I’d drag myself out of bed this early for a case?” Steph asks, scrunching her nose.  “Nah.  We’re doing a Secret Santa this year.  I came to deliver you your names.”  She digs into the omelette, taking a large bite. 

Jason frowns.  " Who’s doing a Secret Santa?”

“ We are,” Steph answers, her mouth full of food as she gestures around the table with her fork.  “The Wayne horde.”

“ You guys are maybe.  Nobody ever told me about it,” Jason says.

Steph rolls her eyes.  “You’re being told right now.  This is me telling you.  And before you start pouting, it was an impromptu decision that we made last Sunday dinner, which you were invited to, but didn’t show up for.”

Jason’s eyebrows scrunch together.  He does remember Steph and Damian bothering him about coming to dinner.  He doesn’t remember why he wasn’t there.

“We were on a job,” Slade says, catching his unspoken question.  He takes another bite of omelette, dodging Steph’s fork as she does the same.  

Steph shrugs.  “Doesn’t get you out of doing Secret Santa.”  She turns to Slade.  “You got Dick.”

Slade frowns and Jason laughs.  

Steph turns towards Jason next. “And you got Bruce,” she continues.

Jason’s laughter abruptly stops.  “Isn’t the point of a Secret Santa that it’s a secret?  We need to have a redraw,” he tries.  

“And we would have had a redraw if either of you had gotten me, but you didn’t.  And I’m the only one who knows who you’ve got, so it’ll still be a secret to them , which is what’s important,” Steph says as if she’d expected this exact argument.  “No redraws.”  She goes for another bite of omelette.  

Jason slumps back in his chair.  “I can’t believe I got Bruce .  Why couldn’t I have gotten someone not miserable like Alfie?”  He turns towards Slade.  “Wanna trade?”

“I’m actually a little tempted to say yes, but no,” Slade answers.  “Think the only one worse than Grayson is Wayne.”

“Trading’s not allowed anyway,” Steph says.  “I got Tim.  Think I'm skipping around about having to get my ex a Christmas gift? No, but I'm sucking it up like an adult.”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Such an inspiration.”

Steph raises her chin. “I think so.”  She takes the last of the omelette.  “So?  What are you guys doing today?  You wanna go shopping for these losers?”

Jason turns towards Slade who shrugs.  “Yeah, alright,” he agrees with a sigh.  “Just let us shower first.  Give us twenty.”

“Okay,” Steph agrees.  “But I’m waiting for you here, so if you’re going to have shower sex be quiet about it.”

Stephanie convinces them to go to a mall and Jason is reminded of why he likes online shopping.

“Think I should give Tim a blowup doll?” Steph asks as they pass a store proclaiming an adult section in the back.

“Yes,” Jason answers at once.  “Nothing would make me happier than seeing the look on his face when he opens it.”

Steph frowns.  “Yeah, I guess that's kind of a bitch move.  I guess I could get him that be game he's been ranting about for the last couple weeks.”

“At least you know the person you're gifting to,” Slade gripes.  “What do I get Grayson?  Another superhero friend?”

“What do I get Bruce?” Jason complains back. “A button he can press that'll grunt for him?”

“Maybe a therapist,” Stephanie replies.  “The face he makes would be worth him giving you excuses for the next year about why he's never used your gift.”

“Yeah, I'd rather punch myself in my own face than hear his excuses,” Jason replies.

“Maybe get Dick a cookbook,” Stephanie suggests, changing the subject.  “It’ll be funny at least.”

“It’ll be funny until he burns down his apartment trying to use it just to say he did,” Jason corrects.  He turns to look at Slade.  “Do not get him a cookbook.”

“Spoilsport,” Steph mutters. 

It takes several hours, but Jason and Slade both settle on something.  Jason never wants to go shopping again.

Tbc

Chapter Text

There’s a certain overbearing silence that comes with being followed by a bat.  A tingling on the back of the neck and the whispering of what might be footsteps or what might just be wind.  It’s a sound Jason may have confused with Slade had he not already been intimately familiar with the silence that comes with Slade hunting.  

Jason, because he absolutely hates being followed, decides to go the confrontational route instead of being patient.  He pauses in his run across the normal rooftops he takes on his patrol route.  “What are you doing in my alley?”

“Nothing.”

Jason sighs because of course it’s Dick following him around.  It’s just his luck.  He turns around as Nightwing seems to appear from out of the shadows.  Jason crosses his arms.  “Well, if it’s nothing, get lost then.”

“Okay, so not nothing,” Nightwing replies sheepishly.  He rubs the back of his head.  “I may have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Uh huh.”

“So … uh … How’s Slade?”  

Leave it to Dick to beat around the bush.  “Good,” Jason answers slowly.  

“And you?  How are you?”

“Also good,” Jason answers.  “You know what I love most about this talk?  It's not ominous and ratcheting up my anxiety at all.  Spit it the fuck out, Dickhead.”

Nightwing proceeds to not spit it out, and instead plays with his fingers.  “I just … remember when you were a kid? And you had all these places listed out of romantic things and places you'd wanna take your significant other?”

Not something Jason wants to be talking about.  He wonders if he kicks Dick off the roof it’ll be enough for him to drop the subject.  He probably won’t, unfortunately.  “The memory of it still haunts me.  Yes.”

“I know it's not my business, but … I mean … I always assumed I'd get to see you fulfilling some of that list.  And, with Slade … I just …”

“I don’t even remember what was on that list,” Jason admits.  “I was … like … thirteen.”

“I do,” Nightwing tells him, much to his mortification.  It’s true Jason doesn’t remember what he wrote, but he’s fairly sure it’s embarrassing.  “I used to re-read it after you … you know … when you were gone.”

“Dead,” Jason corrects.  He ignores Dick’s cringe.  “And you think I’ll like doing the things on that list?” he guesses.  The faster he can get this conversation over with the faster he can go home, after all. 

Nightwing shrugs.  “Wouldn’t you?  You’re the one that made it.”

“Yeah, when I was thirteen.  Priorities change, N.”

“I’m just worried about you,” Dick admits.  “There’s more to life than work and the alley, you know.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Jason replies sarcastically.  “I’m aware.  And I do more than just work, thank you so much.”

“Oh yeah?  When was the last time you and Slade had a date that didn’t revolve around work?” Nightwing asks, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.  

And, well, fuck, Dick might have a small point.  Not that it’s ever really bothered Jason, but maybe it bothered Slade?  He did always seem quietly delighted whenever Jason went out of his way to surprise him.  He’d probably like a date that wasn’t work-related, even if he probably wouldn’t admit it.  “I assume you’re bringing this up because you already have something in mind?”

“I mean, technically, it’s a thirteen-year-old you’s idea, but, yeah,” Dick replies with a smile.  “You talked about ice skating, like, half a dozen times.  And it is the ultimate winter romantic activity.”

Jason’s not sure he would agree with that, and he has no idea why he’d have so many ideas revolving around ice skating.  Probably some romcom he watched, knowing him.  Most of his ideas as a teenager came from movies, not having a lot of normal kid experiences himself.  Not that he’d ever be telling anyone that.  “Looks more like you’re just running around in a circle but with blades on your feet,” Jason mutters.  But it’s loud enough for Dick to hear, and now Jason’s being frowned at.  

“You don’t think you’d like it?”

Jason sighs.  He hates it when Dick gets all concerned about him.  Especially when he doesn’t understand why.  “Guess I won’t know until I do it, huh?”

Which is how Jason finds himself with blades on his feet, clinging onto Slade as he tries to keep his feet from flying out from under him.

Slade, of course, is laughing at him, because Slade’s a fucking asshole.  “While I’m touched you wanted to take me out for a date night, I think the next time it should be something you actually like doing.”

“Shut up, Slade,” Jason mutters even as he clings to his chest.  “I didn’t think it’d be hard.”

“It’s not,” Slade answers, arms at his sides as he lets Jason cling all by himself.  “That’s what’s so funny about it.”

“You’re talking like someone who wants me to murder them,” Jason snaps.  His left foot slips and he grabs tighter to Slade’s shoulder to stay upright.  

“It’s a good thing I now know that your weakness is ice,” Slade says as he wraps an arm around Jason’s back to give him a little more stability.  

“I’m fine on ice,” Jason replies.  “It’s when you combine ice and these hell shoes that I have a problem.”  He points to the blades he’s wearing.  Whoever decided this was a good idea was a fucking moron.  He’s blaming Dick.  He should really stop ever listening to him.  It never results in anything good.  

“It’s like rollerblading,” Slade says. 

Jason glares up at him, careful not to move his feet.  “Poor kid, remember?  Who the fuck could afford rollerblades?”

Slade shrugs.  “Fair enough.”  His smirk widens.  “So if I told you it’s like walking in skis …”

Jason’s glare doesn’t diminish.  “Yeah.  Take a wild guess on if I could afford to go skiing if I couldn’t even afford rollerblades.”

“Wayne never took you out once you were a rich kid?”

Jason shrugs.  Then clutches onto Slade tighter as his feet move without his permission again.  “There were always things to do. Crime to fight, a test to study for … There was never time for a vacation.”

“You make time,” Slade replies.  “We do, don’t we?”

“Let's not bring Bruce's father of the year award into this,” Jason says. “We're supposed to be on a date.  Now tell me how the fuck to skate.”

Slade frowns as he thinks.  “It’s like walking, except you keep your back foot flat instead of coming up on your heel.”

“Yeah.  Okay.  I can do that,” Jason says.  He doesn’t move.

Slade’s smirk is back.  “My confidence in you is growing by the second.”

“My desire to murder you is growing by the second,” Jason returns. 

“What if you hold onto my arm and focus on staying upright while I skate us around the rink?” Slade suggests.  

“Yeah.  Okay,” Jason agrees, before moving from clutching Slade’s shoulder and chest to clutching onto just one of his arms.  It’s unsteady going, but he does manage not to fall on his ass.  

They go around a few times before Jason has the confidence to try to skate by himself.  He promptly falls on his ass to the sounds of his cussing and Slade’s laughter.  They don’t stay much longer after that. 

TBC

Chapter Text

Jason wakes up hot and sweaty, with something heavy pinning him to the bed.  Even half asleep he knows it’s Slade.  He shoves at his side.  “Hey.  Get the fuck off me,” he mutters.  Luckily, Slade’s a light sleeper.  

Unluckily, Slade’s also an asshole.  “Make me.”

“I can elbow you in the throat if you’d like some motivation,” Jason offers, trying to wriggle out from underneath Slade and only succeeding in getting an arm free.  

“Why can’t you ever be cute in the mornings?” Slade asks, only moving to tuck his head under Jason’s chin.  “Offer me a blow job or something.”

Jason huffs out a laugh.  “I didn’t realize sucking your dick was cute.”

“Have you seen yourself suck a dick before?  Very cute,” Slade mumbles back.  

“Fine.  Get your fatass off me, and I’ll suck your dick,” Jason bargains, shoving at Slade’s shoulder with his only free hand.  

Slade finally rolls off him and onto his back.  He tucks an arm under his head and smirks over at Jason.  

And Jason takes the opportunity to roll out of bed.  

“Oy!” Slade calls to Jason’s retreating back.  “You forgetting something?”

Jason comes back and leans over to peck Slade on the lips before quickly darting out of the way of Slade’s arm.  “Nope.  I lied.  I’m making coffee,” he says before leaving the bedroom, stretching his arms up and working out the kinks in his back. 

“I’m trading you in for a better fiance,” Slade calls after him.

“Good luck finding someone who’ll put up with you!” Jason yells back.  

Slade stares at the ceiling as he listens to Jason clanging around in the kitchen.  There’s a good chance if he doesn’t get up Jason will bring him coffee.  And maybe that coffee will come with a blow job.  But Slade isn’t really one for laying around in bed alone.  He sits up and goes after Jason.  There’s no rule that says he can’t have a blow job in their kitchen. 

The coffee’s already brewing by the time Slade makes his way out into the kitchen, and Jason’s hovering over a bowl, mixing something.  “Breakfast?” Slade asks even though it’s well past noon.  They had been out in the freezing cold handing out supplies until well past sunrise.  Jason said it was normal; the closer to Christmas it got the more people found themselves thrown out onto the streets.  Slade’s already well aware the world’s shit, but the reminder still surprises him.

“Waffles,” Jason answers.  “I assume Steph’ll be over sooner or later to make sure we actually go over to the manor for this stupid Secret Santa thing.”

“Ah,” Slade replies.  He’d forgotten that was today.  Explains why Jason didn’t want morning sex; he never does when Wayne’s haunting his thoughts. 

“Mm,” Jason hums.  “How are your gift-wrapping skills?  Because I still haven’t done anything with Bruce’s gift yet.”

“Abysmal.  That’s why I got Grayson something I could put in an envelope,” Slade answers, coming up to Jason and pressing himself to his back. 

“I gave you the idea for Dick’s gift,” Jason reminds him.  “If anything, you should wrap my gift as a thank you.”

Slade’s hand runs down Jason’s chest.  “I didn’t thank you enough last night?”

“I don’t consider mutual orgasms a thank you, no,” Jason replies with a laugh.  He pulls out of Slade’s hold, grabs the waffle iron, and then settles right back into Slade. 

“What if we make Steph wrap it?” Slade offers.  “We can say it’s because she owes us for dragging us into this thing in the first place.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jason agrees.  “As long as you wrap it if that plan fails.”

“Okay.  As long as you’re the one who asks her,” Slade bargains.  

Jason frowns as he pours the batter for the first waffle.  “Sounds like you want her to be pissed at me.”

“Sounds like I know Steph can’t be angry at anyone who’s just made her waffles,” Slade explains with a smirk.  

“Okay.  Yeah.  Point,” Jason replies.  “She’s still not going to agree to it though.”

“Do we even have wrapping paper?” Slade realizes.  

“Well. Shit.”

There's the sound of the living room window opening. 

“Hey, Steph!” Jason calls, guessing that it's her.  “Don't suppose you brought wrapping paper?”

“Just use newspaper.  Or … like … printer paper,” Steph calls back.  “Don't suppose you made waffles?”

“I did.  Unfortunately for you, they're reserved for people who bring me wrapping paper,” Jason replies as he hears Steph’s footsteps coming into the kitchen. 

“And for people who wrap gifts,” Slade adds.

“Glad to see you losers are so prepared,” Steph replies.  “Where's your tape and shit?”

Jason and Slade share a look of surprise before Jason nudges Slade towards the living room, gesturing that he should help locate whatever tape they have. 

“I know we have duct tape,” Slade replies, giving Jason's shoulder a squeeze before he moves toward the living room. 

Steph laughs.  “This present is going to look like a garbage dump.”

Steph isn't wrong; Jason's present definitely looks like a garbage dump.  It looks even worse when placed next to the rest of the gifts: all brightly colored with clear tape and ribbons and bows. 

“These were all clearly gift-wrapped,” Jason accuses as he stares at the lump of presents.

“Nothing wrong with leaving things to the professionals,” Tim replies.  He glances at Jason's gift.  “Something you clearly haven't learned yet.”

“Hardy har har,” Jason replies, flipping Tim off after making sure he isn't in Alfred’s line of sight.  He turns around and sits on one of the couches next to Slade.

“Please tell me you aren't my Secret Santa,” Tim continues.

“If I did then I would've gotten your insomniac ass some sleeping pills,” Jason replies. 

Tim glances back at the gift Jason had put on the pile.  “Nah.  Box is too big for that.  Looks like I'm in the clear.”

“Maybe I just got you a lot of sleeping pills,” Jason replies, leaning into Slade.  “You also could've just looked at the tag on it.”

“More fun to guess which one’s mine,” Tim replies with a grin.  But he does lean over and look at the tag.  “Bruce?” He barks out a laugh.  “Wanted to go extra classy for him, huh?”

“I'm sure whatever you got me is perfect, Jason,” Bruce says, coming into the living room.  He looks around.  “It's everyone here? We're just missing … “

“Everyone is accounted for, sir,” Alfred says, coming in from behind Bruce carrying a tray of sandwiches.  “And I brought some snacks, in case anyone is hungry.” 

There's a chorus of thank yous as Dick forces both Alfred and Bruce into seats.  “I'll pass out the gifts,” he announces with a smile.

“Whatever stops you from bouncing off the walls,” Damian mutters as he makes room for himself between Jason and the arm of the couch.  

Jason moves his arm so it's across the backrest to make room.  “Can't believe they got you to participate.  You get blackmailed?” he asks quietly enough that only Slade and Damian can hear him.

Damian sticks his nose in the air.  “As if they could!” Damian hisses back.  “Father asked me.  He said it would be … fun.”

Jason squeezes Damian’s shoulder.  “It is.  Not so much the shopping part at the beginning though.”

“I avoided that part,” Damian answers.  

Jason grins down at him.  “Smart.”

“Obviously,” Damian spits.  “The fact that you sound surprised is insulting.”

“Nervous about your gift?” Jason asks, guessing at Damian’s cranky tone.  

“No!”

Jason talks around him.  “There’s nothing to worry about.  They’ll act like they like it whether they do or not; it’s part of Christmas.”

“I do not want fake platitudes,” Damian answers with a glare.  And even though they were already talking quietly, he brings his voice down to practically a whisper.  “I was responsible for acquiring Slade’s gift.”

Jason squeezes Slade’s shoulder, confident he can hear them despite Damian’s best efforts.  “Well, good news,” he says with a grin.  “You will not have to worry about fake platitudes.”  His grin softens.  “But you know Slade; I’m sure you picked out a great gift for him.”

Damian presses into Jason’s side.  “I appreciate your confidence in me.”

Jason brings his arm around his younger brother’s shoulders.  “Well duh.  What do you think I am?  Stupid?”

He focuses back in on the gifts and the rest of the family.  There’s a new tea set sitting at Alfred’s feet and Tim’s just unwrapped the video game Steph had bought him. 

Tim grins over at Steph as soon as he recognizes it.  “Glad I got too distracted to make it to the store to buy it for myself last week.”

Steph winks at him.  “Why do you think I distracted you?”

Jason frowns as he looks between the two, wondering how, exactly, Steph had distracted him.  It better have been something bordering on criminal.  If they’re back together, Jason’s going to murder himself again.  

Dick moves and grabs Bruce’s gift, handing it over.  “From Jason,” he announces. 

Bruce smiles over at him, and Jason does his best not to be nervous as he starts unwrapping it. 

“You got me a briefcase,” Bruce announces as he lifts the leather case from its box.  “It’s very lovely, Jason.  I’ll be sure to use it at work.”  It sounds a little stilted and just this side of patronizing.  

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Don’t sound so stoked, B.  You might give me a big head.”  He jerks his head towards his present.  “Anyway, it’s not for work.  Open it.” 

Bruce gives a small frown but follows his directions.  His eyes go wide as he takes in the chess board that slots into the briefcase once it opens, and he pulls out one of the white marble pawns.  “Oh … Jaylad … This is …”

Something maybe pleasant, maybe unpleasant squirms in Jason’s chest at the tone.  He decidedly ignores it.  “There are magnets on the bottom of the pieces to hold them to the board, so you can be a loser while you’re traveling.”

Bruce smiles at him.  “This is beautiful.  Thank you.”

Thank fuck for Stephanie.  She interrupts before Jason can say something stupid and ruin the moment.  “I helped pick it out.”

“Steph wanted me to buy you therapy sessions,” Jason corrects.  “Slade and I thought you’d use this more.”

“Thank you.  Both,” Bruce says, giving Slade a nod.  “This is very thoughtful.”

“Speaking of Slade,” Dick says with a smile and another package in his hand.  “This one’s for him.  From Damian.”  He hands it over.  

If Jason was on the fence about Slade overhearing his conversation with Damian, Slade’s dry, “Ah.  What a surprise,” is confirmation enough that he had heard everything.  Jason smirks at him and mouths a ‘be nice’.

Slade doesn’t actually get a chance to be nice; Damian’s talking as soon as the lid is lifted off the box.  “Mother helped me pick it out,” he explains, leaning over Jason to talk to Slade.  “She assured me it was top quality.”

“It is,” Slade replies, looking down at it  “It’s gorgeous.  Not that I would expect any less from the Al Ghul’s.”

Damian visibly preens.  “Mother is very good at gifts.”

“Wait.  What’d you get him?” Tim asks, leaning over and trying to see what’s in the box.  

Slade lifts up a short sword, with jewels inlaid in the hilt.  He smiles at Damian.  “You’ll have to help me break it in before we leave today.”

“Absolutely,” Damian replies.

“Damian,” Bruce says, softly and slowly.  “I don’t think a blade is very appropriate for-”

“Perfectly appropriate for me,” Slade interrupts.  “Thank you, Little Ninja.”  He nods over at Damian and gets a wide smile in return.  

“Alright!  Jason next!” Dick announces before Bruce can say anything else.  He grabs the biggest package in the stack and forces it into Jason’s hands.  “It’s from Alfred.”

“So I won Secret Santa?” Jason replies with a smirk.  Alfred always gave the best gifts.  

“I hope you like it, Master Jason,” Alfred says with a small smile.  

It’s a keyboard, which is unexpected, but not at all unappreciated. 

“I know it’s probably been a while since you played, but I thought you might like to get reacquainted,” Alfred explains as Jason stares at it  “And it comes with a portable strap, so easy to move it when you’re changing apartments.”

Jason smiles at him.  “Gonna be honest, Alfie: I didn’t realize I missed it until I saw it.  Your gifts never disappoint.”

“Me next!” Dick says, already ripping into the envelope addressed to him.  “From Slade,” he says for the room.  “And if you got me a gift card I’m going to be very disappointed in you.”

Slade relaxes into the couch.  “That would have been much easier.”

“Huh,” Dick says as he takes out a piece of paper and starts reading through it.  

“That’s just a voucher,” Jason says when it’s clear Slade isn’t going to explain anything.  “You’ll have to go to the stadium to redeem them.”

“Wow.  Two season tickets?” Dick replies, looking between Jason and Slade.  “I didn’t realize you even knew I liked basketball.”

“I didn’t,” Slade answers.  “Obviously.  Jason told me to buy them.”

Jason shrugs under Dick’s focus.  “And while I wish I didn’t remember you screaming at the television every time a game’s on, it’s, unfortunately, forever etched in my memory like a nightmare.”

Dick beams at him.  “Well, if you wanted an apology, Little Wing, you shouldn’t have rewarded me with season tickets.”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “They aren’t in your name until you go register the voucher at the stadium.  And it’s not hard to rip up a piece of paper.”

Dick hugs said piece of paper to his chest before he folds it up and slides it into his pocket.  “Thanks, Jay.  Slade.  It’s really thoughtful.”  He gives them both a smile before reaching for the last box.  “This one’s Steph’s from Bruce.”  

Stephanie makes short work of the wrapping paper.  “This doesn’t count!” she declares as soon as she sees the laptop.  “You had me pick this out!”

Bruce smiles at her.  “If you don’t want it, I can return it.”

“Alright, well, let’s not be hasty about this.”

Jason glances down at Damian, who has yet to receive a gift.  “You sure there’s not another present around?” he asks, trying to figure out who had failed at giving Damian a gift.  Because he’s going to murder them in the most painful way imaginable.  

Slade looks over and frowns as he realizes why Jason’s asking. 

“That’s it,” Dick replies.  “But only because I couldn’t wrap my gift.”  He turns to Damian.  “I’m your Secret Santa this year,” he says with a smile.  “And your gift is up in my room.  Give me two seconds to grab it.”  He darts off without waiting for a reply.  

Jason squeezes Damian’s shoulder.  “If it sucks, Slade and I will take you out to buy a sword later,” he promises, quiet enough that Bruce can’t overhear.  

Damian smirks at him.  “Then I will say it sucks whether it actually does or not,” he promises.  

Except he can’t hide his awe when Dick comes back into the living room holding a sugar glider in the palm of his hand.  

“He’s precious,” Damian declares.  

Bruce sighs.  “I don’t know how many times I can say ‘no more pets’.”

Dick smiles at him.  “… Before someone actually listens to you, you mean?  Looks like it’s going to have to be at least one more time, B.”

Bruce sighs again, but he doesn’t make any move to separate Damian from his new pet.  

TBC

Chapter Text

Jason sits on his sofa and surveys his full house.  Babs is over by the armchair that Steph is lounging in.  Damian is sitting beside him on the sofa.  Dick and Tim are sitting in wooden chairs they’d pulled from the living room.  And Slade’s in the kitchen making hot cocoa at Steph’s request.

It’d be nice had everyone currently in his living room been invited, and Jason hadn’t planned to spend his afternoon alone with Slade.  At least they actually knocked on the front door this time, instead of climbing in through one of his windows.  Though Jason knows that has more to do with Babs and her wheelchair than any common decency his degenerate siblings might have suddenly picked up.  

“There something going on I should know about?” Jason asks, interrupting the small talk that’s been happening since everyone made themselves at home.  “Whatever it is, can we speed it up?  I had plans today, you know.”

Tim rolls his eyes.  “Staying home and reading does not count as having plans.”

Reading is not on Jason’s to-do list for the day, but, seeing as how Slade is at the top and bottom of said list, it’s probably better not to correct the assumption.  “Explain to me how that’s different from having plans to hole yourself up in your room and play video games,” Jason replies. 

“That just proves my point,” Tim says.  “Because if you guys came around to hang out while I was playing video games then I’d save the game and come back to it later.”

Stephanie snorts.  “Yeah.  Uh huh.  Says the guy that used to kick me out when I came by for sex because he was too involved in a game.”

“That didn’t happen!” Tim exclaims. 

“Like, once a week it happened,” Stephanie insists.  

“Nice thing about Jason,” Slade says, coming into the living room carrying two mugs in each hand, “he’s always willing to postpone reading for sex.” 

“This is way more information than I wanted about either of my little brothers, thank you all so much,” Dick says.  He grabs two of the mugs from Slade and hands one to Tim.  “Can we change the subject, please?”

“Yeah.  We can change it to why you all are here bothering me,” Jason says, standing up to grab the rest of the mugs from the kitchen.

But Slade stops him.  “I got it,” he insists, pushing Jason back down on the couch and handing both him and Damian a mug before he heads back into the kitchen. 

Steph smirks at Jason.  “You’re so pampered.”

“I wanted to come see you,” Damian says before he glares around at the rest of the room.  “These hanger-ons followed me.”

Dick smiles under Damian’s glare.  “We thought it’d be nice to hang out.  You haven’t been to a family dinner in weeks.”

“We just saw everyone for that stupid Secret Santa thing,” Jason argues.  

“We unwrapped gifts and then you and Slade hung out on the training mats with Damian the rest of the time,” Dick argues.  “That doesn’t count as family hang out time.”

“Oh, pardon me,” Jason scoffs.  “What would you call it then?”  He takes a sip of his hot chocolate as Slade comes back in and finishes handing out the rest of the mugs.  “There’s something … weird about this cocoa,” he says, frowning down at it.  

Slade rolls his eyes.  “Stop being a little shit.  It’s powder and hot water.  No one can mess that up.”  He sits down beside Jason and takes a sip of his own drink.  “It tastes fine to me.”

Jason blinks over at him.  “That’s not at all what hot cocoa is,” he says.  “Are you some kind of heathen?  You make it with milk, not water.  Everyone knows that.”

Dick and Tim both nod.  “I’m pretty sure Alfred makes his with milk,” Dick says.  

“This definitely doesn’t taste like Alfred’s,” Tim adds.

“This is fine,” Babs says.  She lifts her mug up towards Slade.  “Thank you for making this for us.”

“Don’t thank him,” Jason snaps.  “He made it wrong.”

Steph shrugs.  “I’ve had it both ways.  It’s not bad with just water.”

“I’ve never had this before,” Damian admits.  “It’s adequate.”  He looks over at Jason.  “But it’s better with milk?”

“Much better,” Jason insists.  

Slade glares at him.  “I’m not arguing with you over how to make a fucking drink.”

“Yeah, cause you know I’m right, you asshole,” Jason snaps back.  “If you didn’t know how to make it, you could have just asked.”

“I was trying to be nice, you ungrateful little shit,” Slade replies.  “If you don’t like it, go make your own.”

“Watch how you speak to my brother,” Damian growls, glaring over at Slade.  

“Oh no, I’m not falling for this again,” Dick says as Steph, Babs, and Tim all exchange nervous glances over the fight.  “He called you an asshole,” Dick continues, pointing between Jason and Slade.  “That means he’s not actually mad.  You’re just staging a fight to make us uncomfortable so we leave.”

“What?” Tim asks, looking between Dick and Jason.  “What are you talking about?  How does that make sense?” 

“Don’t ask me!” Dick exclaims.  “It’s their weird thing.”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Of course that’s something you’d remember,” he huffs, slumping on the couch.  

Steph pouts over at him.  “You want to get rid of us?”

“Like I said, I had plans today,” Jason mutters.

“Well, what did you want to do?” Dick asks.  “Maybe we can all do it together.”

Jason glares at him.  “I was planning on doing Slade.”  He raises an eyebrow.  “So you aren’t invited.”

Slade laughs as Dick sputters.  He leans over and kisses the side of Jason’s head.  “We can postpone our plans for an hour or so.”

“An hour,” Jason agrees before glaring around the room.  “And then you’re all getting the fuck out.”

Steph laughs.  “Sure, Jay.  Excuse us for getting in the way of your sex life.”

Dick groans.  “I really don’t want to hear about any of this.”

TBC

Chapter Text

Jason leans back as much as he can without risking falling over.  He rubs both hands over his chest.  Squeezes a nipple hard, bites his lip, and moans against the delightful prick of pain it causes.

Slade’s hands grip Jason’s waist, moving him up and down on his cock.  The rest of his body is motionless, leaning back on the couch as he watches Jason play with his own nipples.  

“Gorgeous,” Slade mutters, staring up at him.  “Take me so well, sweetheart.  Tell Daddy how good he makes you feel.”

“You’ve really- ngh- gotta stop calling yourself that,” Jason answers.

Slade just smirks.  “You sure?  Don’t want me to be your daddy?  Don’t like it when I take care of you?  When I treat you like my precious baby?”

“Like how you treat me,” Jason admits.  “Like how you make me feel.  Especially like how your cock makes me feel.”

“Like everything about you,” Slade answers.  “Like how you’re mine.  Like how well you take me.  Like how fucking gorgeous you are.”

Jason gasps as Slade’s hands on his waist pick up speed.  “You close?” he asks, already knowing the answer.  “Going to cum for me, Daddy?”

“Fuck,” Slade grunts out.  “So close.  I’m-”

There’s a sound of a window breaking.  Slade throws them both off the couch and onto the floor before Jason can do anything.  Slade lands on top of him, Jason’s back hitting the floor hard, but his head is protected; Slade’s hand is already cupping the back of it so he doesn’t slam it onto the wooden floor.  

“Fucking fuck,” Jason cusses, reaching for the gun that’s hidden under their coffee table.  “Sniper?” he guesses.  The couch is in the way of a window, so he can’t tell whether it was a brick, a bullet, or something else that had come crashing through their window.  

“Someone’s getting dead,” Slade growls, low and angry as he slowly slides out of Jason.  

“Sorry I broke your window,” a voice wheezes. 

It’s a voice Jason immediately recognizes.  “Tim?  What the fuck ?” he growls.  He grabs the closest article of clothing he can find.  It ends up being Slade’s shirt.  He rolls out from underneath Slade and wraps it around his waist so at least his dick is covered.  He’s going to fucking kill Tim. 

Well, he would have killed him, if it didn’t look like someone had already tried to beat him to it.  “Tim?  What the fuck?” he repeats, but this time it’s out of concern instead of anger.  “Please tell me that not all that blood’s yours.”

“I don’t know,” Tim answers.  He’s starfished on their floor, on top of all the shattered glass he’d just busted out of their window.  “How much blood is there?”

“Lots,” Jason answers.  He sees some pants and throws them Slade’s way, not bothering to check who they actually belong to.  “Also, you’re an absolute moron and covered yourself in glass, so I can only imagine you’ll be bleeding more before the night’s over.”

“Oh.  Terrific,” Tim answers, staring at the ceiling.

He definitely looks roughed up.  His uniform’s ripped in several places: his chest, his arms, his legs.  And his skin’s ripped open underneath the tears, but Jason can’t tell how deep the cuts are from his angle.  His nose looks broken, and Jason can’t tell for sure, but his left ear might be bleeding.  

“Well, you managed to get here by yourself, so I assume nothing’s broken?” Jason asks, checking Tim over from where he’s standing, weary of getting any closer because of the glass.  Tim’s right shoulder might be dislocated, but everything else looks normal at least.

“Just my pride,” Tim answers with a sigh.

“Am I going to have to pick you up to get you out of that glass, kid?” Slade asks, arms crossed as he stares down at Tim in Jason’s sweatpants and no shirt.

Tim props his head up just to drop it back down a second later.

Jason cringes at the loud thump it causes.  

“Maybe just give me like … five minutes,” Tim answers. 

“Great.  Perfect,” Jason snaps.  “Slade and I will just stand here and watch as you bleed out.”

“Nothing broken?” Slade asks Jason, not flinching as he walks across the glass and crouches by Tim’s side.

“He’s fine to be picked up,” Jason answers.  “He can move his neck, and if something was wrong with his spine he wouldn’t have been able to manage breaking through our window and fucking up our living room.”

“Sorry,” Tim says again as Slade picks him up in one smooth motion and brings him over to their couch.  

“There a particular reason why you’re here instead of at the cave?” Slade asks.  “We’re not exactly medically equipped here.”

Jason doesn’t let Tim answer.  He can think of a ton of reasons why he’d avoid the Bat Cave if he’d been roughed up; he doesn’t need to know Tim’s particular reason.  “Who you’d run into that fucked you up so bad?” he asks instead, because Jason’s going to go out and fuck them up so bad.   

“Chesire,” Tim grumbles.  “Caught me by surprise.”

Jason’s eyes go wide. “Jade?”  He hasn’t seen her since he was training with the League, but he had thought she’d steer clear of making trouble with the bats and birds considering who her kid’s dad is.  But clearly she doesn’t have those types of hang-ups.  

Jason can give her another reason to leave them alone instead.  

“Stay here with Tim,” Jason commands Slade before heading to the bedroom.  “Jade and I are going to have a talk.”

“Call before you do anything dumb,” Slade replies before going for their medkit in the bathroom. 

Red Hood finds Chesire on a rooftop.  She turns as he lands behind her.  

“I figured one of you would show up,” Jade greets, hands on her hips.  “Though, I admit, I was expecting that blue one.  Didn’t think you of all people would be protective of one of Gotham’s heroes.  Last time we talked I was under the impression you wanted to kill them all.”

“I live to surprise,” Hood answers.  “And, for the record, the only reason you aren’t facedown on the ground with my boot on your throat right now is because I like your daughter.”

“That’s sweet,” Jade answers, sounding unconcerned.  “But, let’s be honest, you couldn’t keep me on the ground if you tried.”

Jason crosses his arms and plants his feet.  “We might be testing that theory soon. There a reason you’re stirring up shit in my city?”

Jade shrugs back.  “Just a job.  Nothing personal.”

Right.  Because Jade is a mercenary.  Jason should have figured that someone else was behind the attack.  “The hit was specifically for Red Robin?” he asks, because it could have just as easily been a hit for the first bird she found; a message to Batman.  It’s happened before, after all.  “Who called it?”

“Yeah.  That’s what happens when you decide to stir up shit.  Black Mask isn’t happy that he’s been getting in the way of his operations.  Something about hacking his calendar and messing up his shipments or something?”  Jade shrugs again.  “I wasn’t paying much attention.  He’s a blow hard and got particularly boring after the first couple of minutes. 

Jason nods; it’s a sentiment he very much agrees with.  “You know where he is?”

“I do, but you didn’t get it from me.”

Jason doesn’t hesitate as soon as he gets the address.  He calls Slade as he hops on his motorcycle.  “I’m about to do something stupid,” he says as soon as he hears Slade pick up the call. 

“Okay,” Slade replies.  “Leave your location on.  I’m on my way to you.”  

Jason does indeed find Black Mask at the office Jade had given him.  He doesn’t hesitate to fling himself in through the closed window, boots first.  He doesn’t lose momentum as he lands, jumping across the desk and kicking Black Mask in the face.  Black Mask crumbles back and Jason points a gun at him, ignoring the three bodyguards in the room who now have guns pointed at him .  “Heya, Roman.  Hear you’ve been making trouble for a certain bird.”

“Hood,” Roman grunts as he slowly picks himself up.  “I wasn’t aware Red Robin was under your protection.”  It’s all the confirmation Jason needs to know that Jade had been telling the truth.  

“Consider this a friendly message then,” Jason replies.  “Back off.  Or you’ll be enjoying your next meal through a straw.”

“Cocky of you,” Roman answers.  “Coming here alone and making threats when it’s me who has you surrounded.”

“Stupid of you to assume I came alone,” Jason replies as shots ring out from the next room.  

“Deathstroke,” Roman answers, his eyes flashing towards the door.  “Not confident enough to work alone anymore, is that it?”

“Nah,” Jason answers with a shrug.  “Murdering scum is just a nice bonding activity for us, and it’s date night.”  

“You’ll bring the bat down on your heads,” Roman warns even as he backs up a step. 

“Aw, Roman, you worried about little ole me?” Jason asks, smirking from underneath his helmet.  “That’s touching, really.  But I can handle the bat.  Can you handle us ?”

Slade shows great timing in choosing that moment to kick in the office door, both pistols drawn.  

Roman’s wide eyes flash to Slade, then back to Jason.  “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

“Good.  Let this serve as a warning then,” Jason says before shooting him in the knee.

With any luck it means that Roman will be walking with a limp for the rest of his miserable life. 

TBC

Chapter Text

Slade’s not entirely sure how it happened.  One second he and Jason are shooting at these cultists, and the next second there’s a bang, then smoke.  When the smoke finally clears, Slade’s alone in the basement with a literal bird looking up at him.  It’s tan with black and orange on its wings.  It doesn’t look like Jason at all, but it also looks way too calm to be an actual bird trapped in a basement.  

“You did not get turned into a bird,” Slade says to maybe-Jason.  

The bird takes one hop closer to him and coos.  It’s, unfortunately, enough of an answer.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Slade replies.  “What the hell are we supposed to do now?”

Jason coos again.  And Slade hears the answer even though Jason didn’t actually say anything.  

“I don’t have Constantine’s number,” Slade says, frowning down at him.  “And is he really our only option?”  Being around Constantine with Jason is bad enough; he doesn’t want to be alone with the little termite. 

Jason gives another coo, soft and sharp, then flaps his wings.  He gets maybe a foot off the ground before he lands back on his feet.  

“You’re a bird that can’t fly,” Slade says with a sigh.  “That’s perfect.”  He digs out his phone and flips through it until it’s on the dial pad.  He puts it on the ground in front of Jason.  “Call him then,” Slade says.

And, no hesitation at all, Jason starts tapping at the phone with his foot. 

Slade raises an eyebrow.  “Should I be concerned you have his number memorized ?” he growls.

Jason chirps at him and ruffles his feathers. 

“I think now's a perfect time to talk about it,” Slade argues.

Jason looks up at him but doesn't make a sound.  He kicks the phone over to Slade.

“Fine,” Slade agrees, picking up the phone.  “We'll talk about it after then.” He presses the phone to his ear.

And waits.

It goes to voicemail.

Slade hangs up, raises an eyebrow at Jason, and pointedly presses redial.  “Bet he'd answer right away if we were calling from your phone,” he gripes.

Jason ruffles his feathers but doesn't say anything. 

Unfortunately, they don't have Jason's phone.  His clothes are also nowhere to be found.  There aren't any stray guns lying on the ground either.  What the fuck happened to all of Jason's shit?  Is it in the bird?  Invisible?  Transported to another dimension, never to be seen again?

Slade will never understand any of this magic shit.

It takes four separate redials, but Constantine does finally pick up.

“Not taking any new clients at the mo’,” Constantine says.  “Stop calling.”

“Jason's in trouble,” Slade replies quickly, prepared to call again if Constantine hangs up too fast. 

“Slade?” Constantine asks.  “What happened to Jason? Demon fuckery?”

“Magic fuckery,” Slade answers.

“Ah,” Constantine replies.  “Explains why you called me.  You're shit at magic, aren't you?  Is Jason safe?”

Slade grits his teeth.  “Yes, Jason’s safe,” he snaps.  He doesn’t appreciate being reminded that he can’t do much of anything in this scenario.  The fact that it’s Constantine of all people that he has to rely on just makes it worse.

Jason coos at him and cocks his head to the side as soon as Slade looks at him.  And Slade breathes: a deep breath in and a deep breath out, trying to release some of his anger.  Slade hates it with a passion, but they do need Constantine’s help, and downplaying the issue is definitely not going to help Jason go back to being human.

“He does need your immediate assistance, however,” Slade forces out.  

“And you have a problem with him telling me how much my help’s worth to him?” Constantine asks.  

“He can’t speak right now,” Slade forces out.  “It’s part of the problem.  And he’s never had to bargain for your help before.”

“Not bargain, no,” Constantine answers.  “But he does usually shower me in compliments.  Tells me how great and marvelous I am.  Promises me favors at an undisclosed date.  A pretty young thing whispering sweet nothings in my ear is payment enough in a lot of cases.  But if Jason can’t speak … well … then who’s going to whisper sweet nothings in my ear?  You ?”

“I am going to destroy you and everything you hold dear,” Slade promises.  He almost hangs up.  But Jason coos at him again, shakes his head, and then flies up to Slade’s shoulder.  

Because Jason’s a bird.  And they need Constantine to come and reverse whatever it is that did this.  And Slade can’t afford to murder him right now.  

“You really are too easy,” Constantine laughs.  “Also, not the first time someone’s promised to destroy me.  It’s not nearly as scary after you hear it the first dozen times.”

“Are you coming or not?” Slade growls.  Maybe he’ll murder Constantine once Jason’s himself again.  

“Yes.  Yes.  Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Constantine replies.  “Be there in a tick.”  He hangs up.  

Slade turns to Jason, glad he had picked to land on the shoulder where his good eye is.  Knowing Jason, it was done on purpose.  “You see what I have to put up with from that creatin?”

Jason coos again.  

“Don’t know what you see in him,” Slade continues.  “He purposely goes out of his way to annoy me.  Like he wants me to murder him.”

Jason coos and nods his head.  

“So you agree?  At a certain point, it’s not my fault if my control slips, and I accidentally kill him.”

Jason ruffles his feathers and shakes his head.  

And Slade has more to say.  Has more examples and reasons that it wouldn’t be his fault if he murdered Constantine.  But the magician’s stupid portal interrupts him.  

“Got yourself a mascot, did you?” Constantine greets, pointing between Jason and Slade.  “I gotta be honest, I thought if you ever wanted an animal that leaned into your color pallet, you’d go with a tiger over a bird.”

Slade glares.  “That’s not a bird.  That’s Jason.”

“That’s a turtle dove is what that is,” Constantine corrects, getting too close into Slade’s personal space so he can rub a single finger over Jason’s head.  “Very festive.”

Slade steps back and resists the urge to punch him.  “Can you fix him or not?”

“First I’ve got to understand the problem,” Constantine replies.  He leans over and pokes Jason in the chest.  “You still you in there, luv?”

Jason coos and nods.  

“Having any bird instincts? Any desire to eat worms?  Go mate with another bird?” Constantine asks, continuing as Jason shakes his head.  “Your energy low?  Getting lethargic?”

“What’s the point of these questions?” Slade asks.  He wants this over with.  He wants Constantine gone and Jason back.  “Something in this damn basement did this to him.  Find it, and change him back.”

Constantine rolls his eyes.  “Yes.  Brilliant.  Let me just listen to the advice of some amateur who’s never done magic in his life, and has no concept of magical theory.  That won’t end up with your fiance turned into a bag of turnips.”

Slade takes a step back and rotates his body so the shoulder Jason’s standing on is protected from Constantine’s line of sight.  “Is that a possibility?  Fucking turnips?”  He detests magic. 

“It’s magic,” Constantine snaps.  “Everything is a possibility.  Which is why questions are important.  Need to figure out how much of Jason is actually Jason and how much is bird.  Different solutions for different versions of metamorphosis.”

“You sound like a pompous asshole,” Slade says.  Not that he means to actually say it out loud.  He’s stressed; sue him.  

He does learn that birds can sigh, so he got that much at least out of it.  

“You are a pompous asshole,” Constantine replies.  “What’s worse, I wonder.”  He starts looking around the now-empty warehouse.  “What were you doing before Jason got turned into a bird?”

“We were killing some cultists,” Slade answers.  “Sacrificial bullshit.  Jason’s lead.”

“Mmm.”  Constantine looks at the bare floors and blank white walls.  “Yes.  Certainly looks like it was some fight.”

“So sorry,” Slade snaps.  “I didn’t realize I’d have to tie up any dead bodies because they’d take them all with them when they vanished in a puff of fucking smoke.”

“Keep up that attitude, and I’ll cash in some very particular favors with Jason for this job,” Constantine replies.

Jason coos, a warning, Slade knows, but he ignores it.  “Touch Jason, and I kill you.”

Constantine laughs.  “Much better than you have tried and failed.  You might be the best killer in terms of humans, but you have nothing on demons, mate.”  He spreads his arms out.  “But go ahead and try if you’d like.  I’m sure you and your bird of a fiance will have a very happy life together.”

Jason drives his beak into Slade’s cheek. 

“Ow.  Fuck,” Slade mutters.  That beak’s sharper than it looks, apparently.  “Fine,” he grits to Jason before turning back to Constantine.  “What else do you need to know?”

Constantine smirks at him.  “Never seen anyone be whipped by a bird before.  It’s almost worth having to deal with all the death threats.”

Jason chirps and Slade stops himself from answering something biting back.  “Stop being annoying and I won’t have to threaten you with death.”  

Jason smacks him with his wing.

So maybe it hadn’t been exactly nice, but it was a lot nicer than what Slade was going to say.

“Everything annoys you,” Constantine replies.  “You have no concept of a joke.”

“There’s nothing funny about how you touch my fiance,” Slade snaps, angry all over again.  

Constantine smirks at him.  “Not to mention you have a violent possessive streak.  That something he into then?” he asks, nodding at Jason.  

Jason looks at the ceiling, clearly exasperated.  It’s an odd expression to see on a bird.

It also reminds Slade that if he doesn’t calm himself down, then he’s going to be a victim of Jason’s angry shouting as soon as he turns back into a human.  And Slade would really like to avoid that.  He tries to get them back on track.  “What do we need to turn him back?”

“The name of the cult would be wonderful,” Constantine replies, flinging his arms around to gesture at the room.  “Or anything besides a completely empty room.  Something that can tell me who these guys are or who they worship.”  He looks at Jason.  “If you’ve gotten me into some kind of demon shenanigans, you’re going to owe me big time.”

Jason coos and nods his head.  

“You did?” Constantine asks before smacking himself in the forehead.  “Of course you did.  Can’t ever keep anything simple, can you?  You know which demon they were sacrificing to?”

Jason shakes his head and then looks towards Slade.  

“The sacrifices were kids, if that makes a difference,” Slade says.

Constantine frowns.  “Because they needed to be kids?  Or because kids are the easiest virgins to find?”

Slade shrugs.  “I unfortunately didn’t stop to ask while I was shooting the pieces of shit in the face.”

Jason chirps and Constantine turns to him.  “You know then?” he asks excitedly.  “Is it kids or virgins they were after?”  He frowns when he realizes Jason can’t answer that.  He tries again.  “Kids?”

Jason nods and Constantine huffs.  “Feel like I’m on that television show,” he mutters.  “The one with the dog.  Whatsits?”

Slade blinks at him.  “I honestly have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Constantine snaps his fingers.  “Lassie!  That’s what it is.”

“And I assume you’re talking about TV shows because you already have a solution for Jason?” Slade replies, growing annoyed again. 

“I do, actually,” Constantine replies.  “Luckily for you, no demons that feast off kids are all that powerful.  It’s the ones demanding virgins that you’ve really gotta watch out for.  Got just the thing for this.  Back in a mo’,” he says before a portal pops up and he’s sliding through.  

Jason coos.  

“Fine. He might be helpful,” Slade replies.  “And, before you say anything, that was absolutely me playing nice.”

Jason presses his head against Slade’s cheek.  

“Yeah,” Slade says with a sigh.  “I’ll be glad to put this nightmare behind us, too.  Constantine works fast, I’ll give him that.”  He side-eyes Jason.  “That’s if his solution actually works.  If it doesn’t I still reserve the right to kill him.”

Jason coos again.  It sounds like laughter.  

Constantine’s solution does work, so Slade can’t make good on his threat to kill him.  But he does have Jason back, which is a much better end result than another murdered body.  

“Fuck,” is the first thing Jason says as he appears in a puff of smoke.  “Thanks, John,” he says, stretching out his arms.  “Remind me to never get turned into a bird again.”

Constantine shrugs.  “I thought you were cute.”

Jason puts a hand on Slade’s arm before he can say anything.  “I thought you two were going to murder each other, and I’d be stuck trying to figure out migration patterns for my new life as a bird.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Slade and Constantine answer at the same time.  

Slade grimaces as Jason laughs.

TBC

Chapter Text

When Jason gets home from patrol it's to find Slade sprawled out on the couch and staring at the TV like he's in some sort of daze.  It's abnormal for several different reasons.  The primary one being that Slade’s been out of town on a job for three days.  That by itself is par for the course with Slade.  The fact that Jason hadn’t been told Slade was heading back is the unusual part.  

Jason checks his phone, just in case he somehow missed a phone call or text, but the only notification he has is a text from Dick featuring a series of nonsense emojis that Jason's been ignoring for the past several hours. 

Slade also doesn't watch television.  Or sprawl on the couch.  Or fail to greet Jason when he comes home. 

He doesn't look hurt, but with his stupid healing factor sometimes it's hard to tell.

“Slade?” Jason tries, unlatching his Red Hood helmet and approaching the couch.  “Babe?  You okay?”

Slade blinks up at him.  “Morning, sweetheart,” he says instead of answering.  He gives a small smile.  “Glad you're home.”

“Yeah.  Glad you're home, too,” Jason replies hesitantly.  “Job go okay?”

Slade shrugs, which raises all kinds of red flags.  Jason suppresses the anxiety that’s suddenly crawling through his chest.  “What happened?  You hurt?” he asks, striding the rest of the way to the couch and grabbing the blanket Slade's thrown over himself so he can look him over for injuries. 

Slade grabs his hands.  Kisses one of his knuckles.  “I'm fine.  No injuries.  Job went well.”

Jason cocks his head to the side.  “Alright,” he replies, drawing out the word.  “But there is a problem.”  Because there has to be. Slade doesn't act morose after a job well done.

Slade shrugs again.  “I'm having … feelings about it,” he admits.  “I think maybe I shouldn't have taken it.”

“Oh,” Jason replies.  That's a new one.  He’s never heard of Slade regretting a contract before.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah.  Haven't stopped thinking about it.  I need a break.”  He squeezes Jason's hands before letting them go.  “Help distract me.  Get naked.  Let me play with you.”

Jason blushes, bright and red, and regrets that the only thing he'd actually taken off was his helmet, so Slade can very much see his blush.  

Slade’s smirking as Jason takes off his jacket and throws it onto the nearby chair.

“Slowly, sweetheart,” Slade demands, his smirk growing.  He moves up the couch so his upper back is resting against the armrest.  “Wanna watch you.”

Jason rolls his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that his face is heating up.  “You can watch me regardless of how fast I go,” he grumbles even as he slows down removing his armor.

“Thought you wanted to make me feel better,” Slade replies.  

“It’d be nice if I could make you feel better without also wanting to shoot myself in the face,” Jason says.  He gestures to himself.  “You know I’m not good at this shit.”

Slade raises an eyebrow.  “What?  Undressing?  I beg to differ; I think you’re very good at it.”  He smirks.  “But, if you’re uncomfortable, I can provide detailed instructions.”

Jason gives him a flat look before lifting his chest armor off.  “You’re going to coach me through a strip tease?”

“If you’d like,” Slade answers with a shrug and a smirk.  “I’m having an existential crisis, and you can’t even give me a show?”

Jason stops undressing completely and frowns down at him.  “You really wanna milk this somber attitude, don’t cha?” he asks with a sigh.  “Okay, here’s the deal: I’ll give you a show, and I’ll properly distract you.  And, then, when we’re done, we’re talking about this.”

“Fair enough,” Slade answers before his smirk grows.  “Want me to coach you?”

“Really think I don’t know what you want by now?” Jason asks, shedding the rest of his armor.  He unbuckles his belt with one hand and lets his pants slide down his thighs before he steps out of them and gets within reaching distance of Slade.  

Slade grabs hold of Jason’s arm and tugs him closer.  Jason falls on top of him and scrambles to readjust so he’s straddling Slade’s lap.

“Thought you wanted to go slow,” Jason breathes out a laugh as he sits up. 

“Got impatient,” Slade explains, pulling Jason’s shirt off.  “Ride me,” he demands.

Jason huffs another laugh.  “That might be a little difficult, seeing as you’re still dressed.”

Slade lifts Jason up by his hips and moves him down.  Lifts his knee so it meets with Jason's cloth-covered dick. 

Jason might moan a little when Slade drags him across his knee.  “Trying to make me cum in my boxers?” he asks.

Slade smirks at him.  “Wouldn't be the first time,” he says, dragging Jason back towards him. 

Jason gasps.  Grabs onto Slade's shoulders so he doesn't fall head-first onto him.  He starts moving on his own, humping Slade’s thigh.  “Bet this would be more pleasant if we were both naked,” he grunts because his boxers aren't exactly a soft material, and while it feels good he might also be worried about the after-effects of chafing. 

“That's not nearly as fun,” Slade answers.  “Wanna watch you use me. Get so needy you get lost in it.”

Which causes a heat on Jason's cheeks as well as in his stomach.  “Keep talking to me then,” Jason demands because if Slade keeps talking to him like that then Jason doesn't have to worry about chafing; he'll get off too fast for it to be a problem. 

Slade's smirk grows as his hands dig into Jason's hips, but he doesn't help with the rhythm, just leaves them there as Jason’s hips pulse back and forth.  “I like when I lay you down and open you up,” Slade says.  “Force my way into that tight little hole of yours and you melt into it.  But this?” Slade’s hands tighten on Jason's hips.  “When you get so desperate for it all you want to do is take whatever you can?  Fuck, sweetheart, that might be even hotter.”

“Fuck,” Jason grunts back, gripping onto Slade’s shoulders to keep himself upright. 

“Like it when you use me,” Slade continues.  “Like watching it.  Like that you do it without any hesitation.  Because it's your right to.” He watches Jason bite his lip, holding back a moan.  “You know why it's your right?”

“Fuck,” Jason repeats, breathier this time around.  He shakes his head. 

“Because I'm yours, darling.  And you're allowed to use the things you own however you'd like,” Slade explains. 

And Jason's never thought of himself as possessive, but the thought - the reminder - that Slade - Deathstroke - is his … well, he's pretty sure everyone else put in the position would cum in their pants too. 

And Slade’s just staring at him.  And if it was anyone else Jason knows he'd be self-conscious, but, since it's Slade, he's just more turned on instead. 

“So hot when you let go,” Slade finally says before pulling him in and kissing him.

Jason throws his leg over Slade’s other thigh, so he's straddling both instead of just one.  Then he scoots up and his newly-soft dick meets Slade’s hard dick. He smirks.  “Sure you don't want me taking care of this before we enter our therapy session?”

“Take care of me tonight,” Slade replies, running a hand up Jason's chest and leaving it there. “Let me stew for a while.”

Jason nods.  “Should I put a shirt on for the next conversation?” He moves to get up only to be stopped by Slade’s hand that's still on his hip. 

“Nah,” Slade answers.  “If I've gotta get into this whole thing then I might as well get something pretty to look at while I do.”

Jason settles back down on Slade’s lap, wet briefs and all.  “Okay.  And what's this whole thing, exactly?”

Slade hums.  “I might've lifted some government nuke codes and sold them to a third party,” he grumbles. 

“Ah.” Jason looks down at him.  “And I'm guessing this third party isn't someone like the Red Cross?”

Slade smirks around a laugh.  “No.  I'm afraid not.” He looks up at Jason and studies him.  “You aren't pissed?”

“Not pissed, no,” Jason answers calmly.  “Am very much of the opinion that we need to go take them back though.  Nukes are kind of World War Three type of a big deal.  It's bad enough that governments have ‘em.  But the private sector’s so much worse.”

Slade sighs.  “Right.  I can't disagree with you. But I also can't finish a contract and then turn around and flip on it. Bad for my reputation.”

“Right,” Jason answers before biting his lip in thought.  He can't argue with Slade.  He can't show up in Deathstroke armor and steal back what he just sold them.  Maybe if they killed all witnesses and destroyed any video evidence they could do it.  But that'd be risky, depending on the number of people surrounding those codes.  “Remember when we first started working together, and I borrowed your gear 'cause I didn't want anyone knowing it was me?” He continues at Slade’s nod.  “I've got plenty of extra Red Hood gear to make a second suit.”

Which is how two Red Hoods steal some nuclear codes from some people who look like evil scientists. 

And, fuck, Jason didn't realize Slade would pull off the Red Hood uniform so well. 

TBC

Chapter Text

“Roy got to a hotel room,” Jason announces, glancing up at Slade from where his head is resting on his lap.  

Slade hums and runs his fingers through Jason’s hair.  “What time is his flight supposed to take off tomorrow?”

“Not until eight tomorrow night,” Jason answers, looking over at their window where snow and ice is slamming against it.  “Might be enough time for this weather to let up.”

“Maybe,” Slade answers.  “Weather report says it’ll stop at five tomorrow afternoon.  Might be enough time for them to clear the runway for his plane.  Though that depends on how many flights they’re canceling versus delaying.”

Jason frowns.  “Yeah.  Not enough time for him to drive over here though, if this shit is going to keep up until then.”

“The airlines might let him move his flight to Monday,” Slade replies.  “He and Lian can come over Saturday night instead.  She can still have her slumber party.”

“Nah, Ollie needs him back by Sunday morning,” Jason says with a sigh, playing with his phone.  “Maybe we can go see them in Star City?  Spend the night at their place?  No chance of snow in Southern California.”

“We could do that,” Slade replies.  “We’ve got a job coming up next week.  You want to go before or after that?”

“I don’t know.  We’ll have to talk to Roy.  See what he’s got going on.  Maybe we can go on a night when Ollie wants him out.  Give Roy a babysitter for the night,” Jason answers, already opening up his message app to text him.

“Does that mean they’re talking again?” Slade asks.  “Thought Oliver was still being an ass.”  

Jason shrugs.  “They never really stopped talking.  Ollie was just being a jerk about Lian.  But, yeah, he’s eased up a little, last I asked.  Think it was a combination of Dinah and Lian wearing him down.”

Slade laughs.  “Oh yeah?  Never thought Oliver would be happy to be a grandparent.  But then, I never thought he’d be one to pick up a kid either.  Thought he was only doing it to one-up Wayne for a while there.”

Jason laughs.  “He might’ve been.  I know Roy-”

He’s interrupted by his phone ringing.  He glances down and frowns.  

Slade immediately leans over to see who’s calling.  “Who is it?”  If it’s the bat calling in an emergency Slade’s going to break his nose.

“No one,” Jason answers before shaking his head.  “Roy,” he corrects before answering and putting it on speakerphone.  There’s crying in the background, and Jason’s off Slade’s lap and getting up from the couch before he even consciously knows what he’s doing.  “Roy,” he says over the crying.  “Roy, what’s going on?”

“Lian doesn’t understand that snow is dangerous to drive in,” Roy answers.  He sounds exhausted and a little stuffed up, like maybe he’s been crying too.  “She says I lied to her.  That a good dad wouldn’t break promises.  Now she’s crying for her mom, and I … fuck , I don’t know what to do.  She was really excited about the sleepover.”  

“We can come to you,” Jason offers before he’s even really thinking about it.  “You’re over by the airport, right?”  He glances over at Slade who’s frowning at him and offers a shrug.  “You got two beds?  Slade and I can sleep in one, and you can share with Lian.  We’ll have a sleepover at the hotel.”

“There’s a blizzard out, Jaybird,” Roy points out.  

“My sentiments exactly,” Slade replies, his frown growing.  “Let her throw her tantrum.  She’ll get over it.”

Jason glares at Slade.  “Maybe I don’t want her to get over it.  Maybe I want her to believe that her dad’s incapable of breaking a promise.  She deserves to have that.  For as long as possible.”

Roy sniffs loud enough that it comes through the loudspeaker.  “You’re sweet, Jay,” he says quietly.  

And, judging by Jason’s glare, Slade’s very much stumbled on a landmine, even if he’s not exactly sure what that landmine is.  Probably some childhood trauma bullshit about Jason not being able to depend on his parents.  And it’s irritating, because it means they’re going to go out driving and risking their lives in this shit blizzard.  Because Slade’s never going to stop Jason from doing something he feels strongly about, and he’s also never going to let him risk death alone.  “You’re suicidal, Jay,” Slade says with a sigh, already getting up from the couch to change out of his sweatpants.  

Of course, Jason knows exactly what Slade means.  “Not sure how long it’ll take us to get there, but we’ll be there,” he tells Roy.  “Lemme talk to Lian.”

“She’s kinda upset, Jaybird,” Roy says as if the crying isn’t loud enough for Jason to hear.  “I’m not sure she’s going to listen to you.” 

“Let me try at least,” Jason replies.  “Not like I can make it any worse, right?”

Roy huffs a laugh, then sighs.  “Yeah, okay, fair enough.  Give me a minute.”  

It sounds like Roy’s put him on speakerphone, too, because the crying gets louder before Roy’s clear voice comes through the phone.  “Lian?  Hunny?  Jason’s on the phone.  You want to talk to him?”

The crying immediately stops.  “Is he upset we can’t have a sleepover too?” she asks quietly before sniffling.  

“Of course he is,” Roy answers before Jason has a chance to.  “Jason and Slade both really want to see you.”

“Then why can’t we go?” Lian shouts, high-pitched and angry.  “You said we could!  Why’d we come here if we can’t go see them?  Why’d you lie?”

“The plans just changed a little bit, Lian,” Jason says before she can start crying again.  “Your dad isn’t a liar.  Slade and I are just going to come to you instead of you two coming over here, okay?” 

“Promise?” Lian asks quietly.  

“Super promise,” Jason answers.  “But we might be a minute, so you have to be patient for your dad, alright?”

“Okay,” Lian replies, her voice gaining some strength.  “But you have to get here before bedtime.  Otherwise, it’s not a real sleepover.”

“We will be there before you go to bed,” Jason says, nodding to Slade as he throws Jason’s winter clothes on the couch.  “We’ll see you as soon as we can, okay, hun?”

“Okay,” Lian repeats.  “Love you, JayJay.”

“Yeah, love you, JayJay,” Roy says, sounding relieved.  

“Love you too,” Jason answers.  “Leaving now.  See ya when we see ya,” he says before hanging up to Lian’s and Roy’s twin goodbyes.  

“Exactly how do you plan on getting to the hotel?” Slade asks as soon as Jason hangs up the phone.  “The only vehicle you have here is a motorcycle, and you aren’t getting on that thing in the middle of this blizzard.”  Despite what he’s saying, he’s already dressed to go out.  

“Yeah, I know,” Jason replies, reaching for his own winter clothes.  “Call Tim.  Tell him we need to borrow the Batmobile.  It’s got snow tires on it.  Should be able to handle this shit alright.”

Slade raises an eyebrow.  “And we’re sure the bat isn’t going to need it?  This seems like perfect weather for his suicidal ass to be out in.”

Jason huffs a laugh.  “Nah.  Clark guilt-tripped him into going to Metropolis for a few days.  Forced vacation, I guess.”

“Really?” Slade asks.  “Even for Superman that seems like an incredible feat.”

“Right?  But, hey, works for us,” Jason replies with a grin.

It takes them over an hour to get through the snow, but they do eventually manage to get to the hotel.  It’s almost Lian’s bedtime by the time they get there, but Roy’s happy to ignore it, given that Lian’s actually smiling again.

“So,” Roy says, sidling up to Slade as Jason reads to Lian.  “How many times did you two almost die getting here?”

Slade rolls his eye, but he doesn’t look upset.  “More than is acceptable.  Less than I thought.  Jason’s surprisingly good at handling ice spinouts.”

“Yeah, probably cause the moron has no sense of self-preservation,” Roy mutters.

“Why do you think I came with him?” Slade asks.  “Really think I’d let him go kill himself?”

Roy smirks at him.  “Glad he has you.  Once was bad enough.  With how he acts, you’d think he’s convinced that he can’t stay dead.”

“Let’s never find out if that’s true or not,” Slade answers. 

Roy laughs.  “Yeah, you said it.”

TBC   

Chapter Text

“What up, Dads?” Rose calls out as she lets herself in with a hand over her eyes.  “You two aren’t fornicating on the couch, are you?  Cause I don’t need to see that.”

Jason turns away from the kitchen counter to face her, leaning against it.  “If that was a major concern of yours, maybe you should knock next time,” he advises.  

“You knew we were coming over,” Rose replies, dropping her hand and walking into the kitchen.  She throws a wrapped gift on the kitchen table.  “If you were fucking, that’d just mean you wanted to get caught.”

Slade looks up from his laptop where he’s been going through contracts at their kitchen table.  “We aren’t exhibitionists,” he says, his voice even.  “And even if we were I wouldn’t be doing it in a place where my kids might catch us.”

Joey walks in after her, offering a wave at both Jason and Slade before placing his own wrapped gift next to Rose’s.  ‘Pity,’ he signs as soon as he has both hands free.  ‘I wouldn’t have minded seeing Jason naked.’  He winks at him.  

And Jason can’t stop his blush.  “Oh, jeez,” he mutters before turning back around to the potatoes he’d been mashing.

Slade glares at his son.  “Enough of that.”  He glares at Rose next.  “And not a word from you either.”

Rose’s hands fly up, palms out as she holds them at shoulder height.  “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You were about to,” Slade accuses.    

“Or maybe you’re just paranoid,” Rose replies, dropping her hands and crossing them over her chest instead.  

“Right,” Slade says, deadpan.  “Don’t know where I would get the idea that you’d objectify my fiance.  Since you’ve never done it before.”

“Of course not,” Rose replies with a smirk.  “I’m a perfect angel.  Aren’t I, Daddy Jay?”

Jason’s shoulders hunch up, but he doesn’t bother turning around.  “Please never call me that again.”

“Why not?” Rose asks, her smirk only growing.  “Is that a bedroom name?”

“I will kick you both out if you don’t stop,” Slade says before Jason has a chance to reply, irritation clear on his face.

“Fine,” Rose huffs, taking a seat at the table and grabbing Slade’s laptop.  “Whatcha doing?  Should you really be looking at jobs this close to Christmas?” she asks as soon as she sees what is clearly an open contract on his screen.  

Slade grabs his laptop back.  “Why not?  They pay more this time of year, and we have no plans.”

“Really?” Rose asks.  She looks between Slade and Jason.  “No Christmas plans with the Waynes?” She raises an eyebrow.  “I find that very hard to believe.”

Jason shrugs as he puts the mashed potatoes aside to check on the turkey in the oven.  “We already did the Wayne Christmas thing.  Secret Santa.”  He shrugs again.  “Wasn’t bad.  It coulda gone worse.” 

“Oooh, but it wasn’t good?” Rose asks, looking gleeful.  “What happened?” She looks between Slade and Jason again.  “Did someone throw a tantrum over their gift?  Cry because it wasn’t expensive enough?”

“Nothing happened,” Slade answers.  “It was fine.  And stop taking joy in other people’s misery.”

Rose pouts.  “What’s Christmas without some family drama?  It’s like you’re trying to ruin my life.”

“You haven’t been a teenager in years; stop acting like it,” Slade replies. 

“Or what?  Going to ground me, Dad?” Rose asks, smirking again. 

“I’ll throw you out the window,” Slade promises.  “It’s a five-story drop.  Think you’ll survive?” he asks, glancing up from his laptop again.

“Woooow.  My own father, threatening my life.  That’s cold.  And, me: your only daughter.”

“On the plus side, it’d certainly be dramatic,” Jason says, turning from the oven and approaching the table.  He looks towards Joey.  “You wanna sit down?  I can take your jacket.”

‘I’d make a joke about appreciating you undressing me, but I’m afraid Dad would throw me out the window,’ Joey signs with a smile before he slips out of his coat.  

“Damn right I would,” Slade mutters before going back to his laptop.

“You almost done?” Jason asks Slade, taking Joey’s coat and heading to the front closet to hang it up.  “Dinner will be ready soon, and you promised no work tonight.”

“Almost,” Slade answers.  “There’s a job in Whitehorse we can take that starts the day before Christmas.  Transport protection.”

“Whitehorse?” Rose asks with raised eyebrows.  “Man, you really are trying to get out of dodge, huh?”  She smirks.  “Is it that the Waynes are having a Christmas celebration, and you’re trying to avoid it?”

“They aren’t,” Jason insists.  “Bruce is hosting some Winter Gala thing for the one percent.  I already told him we aren’t going; there’s nothing to avoid.”  He looks at Slade as he comes back into the kitchen.  “Where the fuck is Whitehorse?” Jason asks, not placing the city. 

“Yukon,” Slade answers.  “Northern Canada.”

“Fuck, that’d be cold,” Jason mutters.  “Hard pass.  Gotham’s bad enough.  I don’t wanna go any farther north until spring.”

“Pays well,” Slade replies.

“We’re fine on money,” Jason reminds him.  “I certainly don’t need to be freezing my balls off for more of it.”

‘Good thinking,’ Joey signs.  ‘We wouldn’t want anything happening to your balls.’

“You’re on thin ice,” Slade warns him.

Joey’s shoulders shake in silent laughter.  ‘I couldn’t resist.  Low-hanging fruit.’

“Much like Dad’s balls, eh, Papa Jay?” Rose pipes in.  

“Remember what I said about the window?” Slade snaps.

“Joey started it!” Rose exclaims.  

“Yeah, and I’ll finish it,” Slade returns.  “Start acting like civilized human beings.  Both of you.” 

“I would, but my immense plethora of daddy issues won’t let me,” Rose says.  

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jason says, tone sharp.  He tries to gauge Slade’s reaction to that particular remark, but he looks unaffected.  “Slade, laptop away.  Come help me with the food.  Rose, stop antagonizing your father.  Joey, sit down.”

“Yes, Ma,” Rose says, slumping in her chair.

Joey goes to sit next to her.  ‘He really is like Ma,’ Jason catches him signing to Rose after he sits down.  

Slade closes his laptop and throws it on the couch before he comes up to Jason and wraps his arms around him from behind. 

Jason leans back.  “You okay?” he murmurs.

Slade kisses his temple.  “I can handle Rose.  Are you okay?”

Jason smiles.  “Sure.  Yeah.  Happy even.”

“Good.”

Dinner, thankfully, goes smoothly, with no more threats of throwing anyone out of any windows.  It’s not until they’re opening gifts that they hit their next bump.  

“You got us butt plugs,” Slade announces, sounding unamused as Jason colors a very impressive red.

“Okay, in my defense, I had thought your gifts would be crap,” Rose says, sounding a little sheepish.  “I didn’t realize Jason would actually be good at picking shit out.”  She kicks at the automated litterbox Jason had picked out for her. 

Joey shakes his head, his new paintbrush set and package of new canvases next to him. 

“And so your solution was to humiliate us?” Slade snaps, glaring at her. 

Rose’s shoulders hunch up.  “Don’t act like you aren’t going to use them!” she exclaims.

“Slade,” Jason says like a command.  He’s more than aware that Slade’s only pissed on his behalf.  His voice softens.  “It’s fine.”  He shrugs, his face still unbelievably red.  “I mean … it’s not like we won’t use them.” 

“Really?” Slade asks, suddenly looking interested instead of pissed. 

“See!” Rose replies, flinging an arm out to gesture at Jason.

‘Yeah.  Congratulations,’ Joey signs at her.  ‘You’ve made them even kinkier.’

“Well, Dad already said they weren’t exhibitionists,” Rose replies. “They could use a little kink in their lives.”

“No more thinking about our sex lives,” Slade commands, his irritation back full force.  “And no more sex gifts.  Ever again.”  He glares at Rose.  “Clear?”

“Yes, Dad,” Rose mutters, looking properly chastised. 

‘I promise my gift doesn’t have anything to do with sex,’ Joey signs before pushing his gift closer to Jason.  

“Thank fuck for that,” Jason sighs, willing his blush down as he unwraps the gift.  

“You got us a cookbook?” Slade asks once he sees the cover.  

‘A beginner’s cookbook,’ Joey corrects.  ‘To help Jason teach you how to not burn the kitchen down.’

Jason smiles at him.  “Well, no promises, but I’ll do what I can.”  He squeezes Slade’s hand.  “Thank you.  Both of you.  Even if Rose’s gift was a little unorthodox.”

“Yes,” Slade agrees after glancing at Jason.  “Thank you both.  Even though I never want to get a gift like Rose’s again.”

Rose can’t resist the urge to get one more dig in.  “Right.  Unless it’s from Jason.”

TBC

Chapter Text

“The intel’s good?” Jason asks, even though he knows very well the intel’s good.  It’d been provided by Billy, after all, and the man doesn’t make mistakes.  He just wishes, in this one specific instance, that he is wrong.  

“It’s good,” Slade replies, sounding just as defeated as Jason feels.  “A singles party.”

“A hook up party,” Jason corrects with a grimace, looking down at the invitation announcing that hotel rooms would be available for new couples.  “Don’t we know of anywhere else that she’s going to be while she’s in the country?”

“We do,” Slade answers.  “But none of them are going to be places we can get to, and, even if we could , we wouldn’t be able to get her alone.  This is the only time she’s going to be without her bodyguards.”

“I don’t like this at all,” Jason admits.  “You already agreed on the contract?” he asks, knowing the answer to that question too.

“Unfortunately.”

Jason sighs.  “And to get her alone we’re going to have to …”

“... Honeypot,” Slade finishes when it becomes apparent Jason isn’t going to.  “Probably long enough to get up to a hotel room.  Unless we get lucky and somehow find out where she’s keeping the data before then.”

As if he and Slade would get that lucky.

Jason bites his lip, trying to find some sort of alternative.  “How do we know she’ll have it on her?  Maybe we can check her hotel room first.” 

Slade shakes his head.  “She knows how much that data’s worth, and she knows who she stole it from.  She’ll have assumed there’s a contract out for it.  No way she’s not going to keep it on her.”

“Attending a hook up party doesn’t seem in character for someone who thinks people are after her,” Jason argues.

“Oh, you’d be surprised by the stupidity of some people,” Slade replies.  “Overconfidence is a lot of people’s downfall.”

Jason sighs.  Slade’s possessiveness isn’t a quiet thing.  He can’t imagine a scenario where this is going to go smoothly.  But a contract is a contract, and he knows better than to think that Slade’s going to bow out after he’s already agreed to it.  “Okay,” he forces himself to agree.  “So which of us is going in and which of us is lookout?”  He’s not sure why he asks.  He already knows this answer just as well as he knew the answers to the last two unfortunate questions he asked.  There’s no way Slade isn’t busting a blood vessel if he has to watch Jason perform a honeypot on some woman.  

But Slade surprises him. 

“We’ll give her the option,” Slade answers, looking pained.  “It’ll help our chances, seeing as we’re going to be up against a room of horny guys.”

It’s logical.  

Still surprising.

Though, Jason knows Slade’s able to put aside a lot for his job.  So maybe he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is.  

“Okay,” Jason agrees, trying to focus on the mission and not on all the ways this is a bad idea.  “So, what do we know about her?  Do we have any idea what kind of guys she goes for?”

Slade shrugs.  “I only know her by reputation.  This isn’t the first piece of data she’s stolen and tried to ransom back to the owner.  This is just the first time someone’s ever hired me to go after her.”

That immediately puts Jason on alert.  “She going to know who you are?”

“Billy assures me she doesn’t run in the same circles as me.  She might, at the very most, have heard of me, but she won’t know me by my face,” Slade denies.  “There’s a reason I work in a mask.”

Jason nods.  “Okay.  Okay.  That’s good then.” He sighs.  “Okay,” he repeats again.  “So, she’s just stolen all this valuable data, maybe she’s running on a high?  Looking to expend some energy with a no-strings-attached hookup.”

“So she’ll be looking for some hapless fuckboy,” Slade says, finishing the thought.

“ Or she’s feeling paranoid, since her job is only half finished, and she’s looking for someone to make her feel safe for the night,” Jason continues.  “Seeking comfort in the arms of a stranger because she can’t trust anyone else.”  He sighs, looking at Slade.  “That’s you.”  Because there’s no one that radiates protection quite like Slade, no matter how much terror he seems to bring other people while he’s in uniform.  

“Makes you the hapless fuckboy,” Slade points out unnecessarily.

Jason sighs again, already hating the character he’s pigeonholed himself into.  “Yeah, that’s me,” he agrees.  

Slade acts fine.  Jason’s getting pawed at and hit on, and Slade doesn’t even send him a single look.  He’s not growling or threatening anyone.  He’s not hovering by Jason and warning everyone away.  He’s acting like a complete stranger.  Which is how he should be acting.    

And Jason should be happy, because it means there’s a good chance this job isn’t going to become an absolute clusterfuck.

Except Jason is very much not happy.  Because it turns out their target is looking for a strong protector, and she’s not shy about showing how much she likes Slade.

She keeps rubbing up his chest and leaning into him to giggle.  And Slade isn’t even funny , so there’s absolutely nothing to be giggling at .

Jason wants to take her stupid, dumb, giggling face and slam it into the fucking ground.  And then stomp on it, just for good measure. 

It’d be easy to take the data she’s protecting if she was fucking dead.  And they really should have considered that as an option.  And why the fuck hadn’t they?  It’s not like they’re in Gotham right now.  They could kill some piece of shit criminal who didn’t know how to keep her hands to herself.

And it should be easier, when she guides Slade up to the hotel rooms.  Because it means that Jason doesn’t have to watch it anymore.  And it’s not as if he doesn’t trust Slade.  He knows he’s not going to do anything with her.  Nothing’s going to happen.  And Jason has to stay here and keep an eye on the area.  Make sure there’s no one suspicious is hanging around or going upstairs.  

It’s what he’s agreed to do.  

Except he’s finding it impossible to even make small talk with all the assholes that come up to talk to him, let alone flirt with them.  Not when Slade’s up in a hotel room with some woman.  

Not that Slade’s going to do anything.  Because he wouldn’t.  And Jason knows that.  He does .

But him knowing that doesn’t actually help him feel any better.  

And he’s cranky and irritable enough that he’s getting side eyes and hesitant looks, which means he’s absolutely useless at being a lookout.  If anyone comes looking for the dumbass woman they’re going to clock him way before Jason clocks them . 

So, Jason goes up the stairs after Slade, even though he has absolutely no fucking idea which hotel room he’s in.

He walks slowly through the hall, hoping that he’ll hear something that sounds like Slade or see something that will give him some sort of clue as to where his fiance is.

He’s scouring the third floor when he runs into Slade coming out of a hotel room.  “Slade,” he greets, freezing like he’s been caught doing something wrong. 

Slade raises an eyebrow at him.  “Jason,” he replies.  “What are you doing up here?  Did something happen downstairs?”

“No,” Jason answers, but then flounders for an explanation.  He doesn’t want to tell Slade the real reason he ditched his lookout duties, because then it looks like Jason doesn’t trust him, and he very much does.  But he doesn’t know how to explain it.  “I was … worried about you?” Jason tries.  He winces because that was definitely not convincing in the slightest.  

But Slade’s smirking like he already knows the reason.  “Don’t tell me you got jealous.”

“Not because I don’t trust you,” Jason quickly replies, but Slade doesn’t look angry about it.  He looks absolutely delighted.  

“I know, darling,” Slade says, striding over to him and hugging him to his chest.  “Not as if I don’t get jealous, and I trust you just fine, don’t I?”  

Some of Jason’s tension falls as he realizes that point.  “Yeah,” he agrees as Slade kisses the top of his head and pulls away.  “You got what we need?”

Slade flashes a USB drive at him.  “Sure did.  She’s in the shower.  Cleaning up for me before we make sweet, passionate love all night long.”

Jason glares and smacks his chest.  “Not funny.”

Slade laughs.  “No, of course not.  Not funny at all.”  He leans over and kisses Jason on the lips this time.  “C’mon, love of my life, let’s get the fuck out of here before she’s out of the shower.  We can turn this drive over to Billy, and then I can spend the rest of the night making sweet, passionate love to you.”

Jason rolls his eyes as he turns and heads back down to the lobby.  “You aren’t funny,” he huffs.

“Good.  Because I wasn’t joking,” Slade answers.

Jason feels his entire body heat up.  He tries to ignore it.  “Alright, let’s go, Casanova.”

TBC     

Chapter Text

“You sure you don’t mind not celebrating Christmas?” Jason asks.  He regrets asking it as soon as the question is out of his mouth.  Even if it wasn’t the night before Christmas, the time to ask the question is not while he’s lying naked in bed next to Slade and still feeling the after effects of an orgasm.

Slade pillows his head on his arm to look up at him, but otherwise doesn’t move.  “What are you talking about?  We did celebrate Christmas.”

Jason smiles at him.  “You forget what day it is?” he asks.  “Christmas is tomorrow, babe.  So, no, we have not already celebrated it.”

“We did Christmas with your family.  Christmas with mine.  What else is there?” Slade asks. 

It makes Jason frown, because he’s not really sure what else there is.  He shrugs.  “I don’t know.  There’s, like … traditions to follow or something, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Slade answers, looking unconcerned.  “I’ve never actually celebrated Christmas before.”

“Oh.”  Unfortunately, Jason doesn’t have much to go off of either.  He hasn’t celebrated since before he’d died, and even then he’d only gotten two (or was it three?) Christmases.  Before Bruce he was on the streets and lucky if he knew what day it was, let alone the date.  Christmas certainly didn’t hold any special importance to him.  And, before that, he only knew the holiday because it meant he was off school.  If his family had celebrated before his dad got mean and his mom found her way into drugs he can’t remember it. 

He tries to think back on his few years living as Bruce’s son, but he can’t remember much past the huge meals and the ridiculous amounts of presents.  And Slade’s right: they’ve already done both those things.  With both of their families.

Slade’s still looking at him.  “Did you want to do something?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admits.  “I think … maybe … I just feel like I should want to do something?  But I’ve only celebrated Christmas a few times.  Back at the manor.  And I don’t really remember it all that well, so I’m not really sure … I mean …” He shrugs.  “I’m not really sure what it is we’re supposed to do.”

“We can do whatever you want to do,” Slade replies.  “If you want to look up Christmas traditions that we can emulate we can do that.  Lay out cookies for elves or whatever it is.  Watch Christmas movies.  Whatever else people do.”  He grabs Jason’s hands and kisses his knuckles.  “Or we can do exactly none of that.  And just do whatever the fuck we want all day.  Lie in bed, have sex, read, talk, enjoy each other’s company.  Anything you want.”

Jason smiles.  “I’ve gotta admit, that second option sounds really appealing.  You don’t mind?”

“Do I mind lying in bed and having sex with you all day?” Slade asks, raising an eyebrow.  “Well, it’ll certainly be a hardship, but I think I’ll be able to pull through alright.”

Jason laughs.  “Ass.  I meant not doing anything special for the actual holiday.  There aren’t any traditions or anything we should do?”

“I think,” Slade says, heaving his body up and over so he’s hovering over Jason, “that we should create a new tradition, where I fuck you into the mattress every Christmas.”  He grinds into him, even though there’s absolutely no way either of them are ready for another round, not even Slade with his annoying super serum shit.  “And I think we should vehemently hold to that tradition for every single year to come.”

Jason laughs.  “Alright.  Deal then.  Looking forward to it.”

TBC 

Chapter Text

Jason sits on his kitchen counter, his bare ass sticking to the tile top.  Not that he's complaining.  Because Slade’s hunched over his lap, Jason’s cock in his mouth, and Jason feels too good to be uncomfortable.

Slade’s tongue does some kind of flicking, swirling thing, and Jason groans, gripping harder onto Slade’s hair.  “Again,” he demands, the concept of more words lost to him. 

But of course Slade knows what he means.  Slade always knows what he means. Jason doesn't know how he got so lucky. 

Slade does the flicking, swirling thing again.  Over and over again.  Then he does it while he moans.  And Slade’s tongue and the vibrations combined are too much. Jason’s cumming too fast to even warn Slade that he's about to. 

“Jaylad?  Are you hurt?”

And there's Batman, in his kitchen, behind Slade, looking at Jason like he's confused as to how they all got there.  And Jason’s still cumming.  It might be the worst experience of his entire life.  And he got beaten and then blown up once.

“What the fuck ?” Jason shrieks as soon as his brain wraps around what's happening.  “Get the fuck out!  Holy fuck!  You think I don’t have enough trauma in my life!  What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I'm sorry!” Batman replies, like he's just now realizing what he's walked in on.  “I didn't realize- I thought you were-”

“Get the fuck out!” Jason shrieks again because Batman still hasn't fucking moved.  

Slade, at least, looks calm as he pulls off of Jason and moves so he's standing in front of him, facing towards Batman.  But that's only because the man has no sense of shame.  He's just as naked as Jason is. 

Luckily, Slade moving gets Batman to move, and he's out of the kitchen, his cape billowing out in his mad rush to leave.

“I'll just wait for you in the living room,” Bruce replies from the other room. 

“You will not,” Jason argues.  He's shaking, probably from the mass dump of adrenaline his body's just pumped him full of.  And he's confident his legs are shaking too much to walk, though whether that's from the orgasm he just had or the adrenaline now crashing through his body he can't say. 

He does know that it's going to be a while before he can look Bruce in the eye again. 

“Just tell me why the fuck you're here and then get out,” Jason demands, clutching onto Slade’s shoulder for some kind of support. 

And Slade, just like he always does, knows exactly what Jason needs.  Turns into him and presses closer instead of pulling away from Jason to get their clothes.  

The second option would absolutely be the smarter move, but Jason is feeling too traumatized to want anything but Slade right now. 

“I just,” Bruce answers from the living room.  “I just wanted to come by to see if you'd reconsider attending the Christmas party.”

It's absurd enough to stop Jason's freak out in its tracks.  “You broke into my apartment to ask me to come to a party full of rich fucks?”

“Your door was unlocked.  And your family will be at the party too,” Bruce adds.  “We should be together on Christmas.”

Jason ignores the way his stomach curdles at that.  “And you felt like Batman should deliver the invitation?”

“I was already out,” Bruce replies.  “You were on the way home.”

Except Jason knows that's a lie.  Bruce never comes into the Alley if he can help it.  And he goes into the Alley as Batman even less. 

But Jason isn't going to bring that up.  He'd rather not get into a fight with Bruce while he's sitting naked on his kitchen counter.  “Well, thanks so much for thinking of me,” he replies, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and not sure if he's actually managing it.  “Consider your invitation politely declined.”

But Bruce is too stubborn to let something go so easily.  “If you could just come for fifteen minutes … I'll leave the kitchen door unlocked for you again.  You can-”

“You're going to want to leave now, Wayne,” Slade says, his voice calm as he stares down at Jason.  “Before I become very, very angry.”

There's silence.  Jason stares back at Slade as he holds his breath, waiting to see if Bruce will argue or leave. 

“I understand you're both busy,” Bruce finally says.  “I'll leave you.  But please reconsider the party tonight.”

Jason waits until he hears their front door close before he says anything else.  “We need to get the fuck out of here.  Somewhere none of them can find us.” His hand on Slade’s shoulder tightens.  “I'm not going to risk anyone else breaking in while I'm trying to enjoy you.”

Slade nods.  “I’ll book a hotel.  We’ll leave the city for a couple of days.”

It's not enough.  The bats and birds are trackers.  They'll follow their trail without a second thought.  “No.  They'll still find us.  We need to make it harder.  Disappear,” Jason says as he thinks out loud.  “We need to travel under fake identities.  Make it impossible for them to track us down.  Except they know all my fucking aliases by now.  And probably yours too.”

Slade kisses the top of his head and pulls away.  “Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to give you your Christmas present then.” He steps away and throws Jason a pair of pants as he passes by them.  He disappears into the living room and Jason slips his pants back on. 

He stands and leans against the counter as he starts thinking through alternative plans.  Maybe Babs would help them if Jason explained the situation to her.  With Babs’ help, they could probably disappear for at least a couple of days, if not a full week. 

Slade comes back into the room fully dressed, and Jason is suddenly reminded that he's still not wearing a shirt.  He scrambles and picks one up from the floor.  As soon as he gets it on Slade’s pushing a file folder into his hands.

“You got me a contract for Christmas?” Jason guesses with a smirk.  But Slade doesn't smile back; he just shrugs.  And Jason feels his anxiety kick in.  He opens up the folder and starts going through the papers.  There's a social security card, a birth certificate, credit card statements, a bank statement, a high school diploma.  There's even a house deed from two years ago. 

It's ironclad.  Slade got him a new identity for Christmas.

“It’ll hold up in any legal database,” Slade tells him as Jason stares down at the documents.  “You can apply for college under the name.  We can get married under that name.  That name will be able to adopt.”

It's … it’s big.  It couldn't have been easy to get all these things.  It’s hard enough to get shit under a false name, but these are all backdated.  A house that's been owned for two years.  A credit card that's been live for over a decade.  A bank statement even older than that.  A car deed opened and closed, fully paid off. 

It must have taken forever for Slade to get all this together.

“You don’t like it,” Slade says like he's stating a fact instead of asking. 

“I … “ Jason starts just to trail off.  His first instinct is to argue, but he realizes that wouldn't be sincere.  He frowns.  He should like this.

He does love that Slade thought of this.  It’s not something he’s really let himself think about.  And it’s amazing that Slade’s already presenting him with a solution when Jason hadn’t even realized the problem yet.  Because it is a problem.  Obviously he can’t marry Slade if he’s dead.  He can’t adopt kids if he’s dead.  

And this is a perfect solution.

Except it doesn’t feel perfect.  

“I love that you did this,” is what Jason decides on saying.  

But Slade knows him too well.  “You love that I did this, but you don’t love it ,” Slade replies, his face giving nothing away about how he feels about that particular revelation.

Jason reaches out and grasps Slade’s hand.  Kisses his knuckles.  And tries to figure out why he doesn’t like it.  He worries for a second that maybe, deep down, he doesn’t want to get married, and there’s a part of him, some subconscious part, that knew he couldn’t as long as he was dead.  

But he quickly brushes the thought off.  It’s not that.  He knows it’s not that.  He loves Slade more than anything.  He wants to spend the rest of his life with him.  He wants to do all the domestic, romantic bullshit he never thought he’d ever be able to do.  And he doesn’t want to do it with anyone but Slade.  

And that’s when it clicks.  He knows what the problem is.  Why this feels wrong.   

“I don’t want to get married under a false name,” Jason explains.  “I want to get married under my real one.”

Slade frowns.  “That means coming back from the dead.  You’ll lose your alibi if your DNA is ever found at a crime scene,” he warns him.

Jason smirks.  “Then it’s a good thing I never plan on getting caught, isn’t it?”

But Slade doesn't look any less worried.  “It means having to deal with reporters and paparazzi, since they’ll know you’re a Wayne.  And a Wayne back from the dead.  They’ll be annoyingly persistent trying to get a story.”

“Yeah, and that’ll suck,” Jason replies.  “But it’s worth it.  I wanna marry you for real.  I don’t want some false identity that I can easily dump signing our marriage certificate.  I want it to be me .  Plus, I had to deal with that bullshit Gotham celebrity shit when I was a teenager.  I can handle it again.”

That finally gets Slade to smile back at him.  “Alright, let’s bring you back to life then.”

Jason stares up at him.  “Just like that?”

Slade shrugs before he leans in close.  “Well, I have to figure out how to do it first, but I will, darlin’.” He kisses Jason's forehead.  “Don’t doubt that.”

Jason’s chest fills with something that feels light and heavy all at once.  “I love you.  So much.  You have no idea.”

Slade smiles at him, soft and gentle.  “Oh, I think I might have some of an idea, sweetheart,” he says before leaning down to kiss him. 

TBC

Chapter Text

Jason used to always scoff at people who insisted on calling sex “making love”.  Like they were trying to make the act of fucking more innocent.  But, on the rare occasions that Slade rocks into him, gentle and slow, and gives him soft kisses and tender touches, they can’t be doing anything else but making love. 

And Jason hates to admit it, but it turns out he likes making love.  Likes the way it makes his whole body tingle.  Likes the way it makes him feel loved and protected and cared for without Slade having to say anything at all. 

And Slade rarely speaks when they end up like this.  Just gives Jason soft kisses and tender touches and stares at him like he's having trouble believing he exists.

And it's enough.  Fuck, sometimes it's too much.  Slade’s always been better at showing his feelings rather than voicing them. And when they're like this - Jason on his back, Slade hovering over him, gently rocking into him - it's like he's shouting his feelings from the rooftops. 

“I love you,” Jason mutters because his chest feels full and he can't do anything else.  He wants to say more, but he's just as bad at words as Slade is.  So Jason winds his arms around Slade’s back instead.  Brings him in close so their bare chests are pressed together. Kisses his shoulder.  Kisses his neck.

And through it all Slade keeps rocking into him, not changing pace.  And it's so overwhelming in a way their hard, intense, rough fucking isn't. 

Jason doesn't think he'll ever get used to it.  But he doesn't think he wants to.  He finds he likes the overwhelming feeling in his chest.  He likes that when they do this, every time that Slade touches him it sends tingles shooting across his skin.  

He likes that he's so distracted by everything else that he never feels his orgasm building.  There's no ramp up, just a release.

And he especially likes it that when they're doing this Slade's orgasm is always right behind his. 

“Wait,” Jason says, clutching at Slade’s shoulder when he goes to pull out. 

And Slade instantly freezes at the command.  “Yes, sweetheart?” he asks quietly.

And Jason blushes because what he wants to ask is embarrassing, and he kind of doesn't want to. 

But he wants to keep this feeling in his chest more than he feels embarrassed by what he wants to ask.

“Just … uh … leave it in for a little longer?” Jason forces out.  He feels his face heat and tries his best to ignore it.

Slade smirks, bright and wide.  “Don't wanna get cleaned up, darlin’?”

And, yeah, there's cum all over Jason's stomach, but it's not like it's uncomfortable, exactly.  “Just ignore it.”

Slade takes the direction to heart, easing down on top of Jason so they're chest to chest again.  “Like keeping my cock warm, sweetheart?”

And, yeah, Jason does.  But Slade doesn't have to sound so smug about it.  “You're more attractive when you don't talk,” he mutters back. 

It's a great sentence to kill the mood.  They're supposed to be basking in being in love and shit, but Jason's never been good at that. 

Except Slade’s not good at that either.  So he's not offended. He laughs.  “Now, I know that's not true.  Wouldn't be able to get you off just by talking to you if it was.”

Jason squirms, very aware of the dick still in his ass.  “You're so full of yourself,” he mutters. 

Slade’s smirk only grows.  “And you're so full of me,” he returns, squeezing Jason’s ass.

“Fuck,” Jason replies, tucking his face into Slade’s shoulder, embarrassed and turned on all at once.  “Why do you have to be so embarrassing?”

“You're the one who gets off to it,” Slade points out.  “Think you should be thanking me for being so sexy and hot.”

Jason rolls his eyes and pushes at Slade’s shoulder.  “You know what isn't sexy and hot?  Your gigantic head.”

“If you're talking about my dick then we both know you're lying,” Slade replies, grinding into him even though his dick's still soft.

“Holy fuck,” Jason mutters and buries his face back into Slade’s shoulder.  “I was talking metaphorically, you embarrassing asshole.”

Slade laughs, kisses Jason's forehead, and pulls out and off him.  “I have it on good authority you like my big head metaphorically too,” he says with a smirk.

Jason sighs.  “You're so annoying,” he complains, not meaning it for a single second. 

Slade ignores him, already heading into the bathroom.

And Jason knows he's coming back with a washcloth.  And he'll clean him up, refusing to let Jason do anything.  And then he'll crawl back into bed and hold Jason close.  And Jason will continue to feel loved and cherished and protected. 

He hopes he never loses the feeling.

TBC

Chapter Text

Slade sees Jason’s favorite beanie in the middle of the coffee table and doesn’t give it a single thought. The winter gloves Jason normally uses are on the kitchen counter.  His scarf is lying across two pegs on their coat rack.  His snow boats are over by the front door. 

It takes Slade over an hour to realize that if Jason isn't here, then his snow shit shouldn't be here either. 

Jason's leather coat is here, but his thick trench coat is not.  His combat boots are not by the front door.  His two favorite guns are not lying on the coffee table where they normally would be. 

It's past midnight, it's below freezing out, it's snowing, and his idiot of a fiance is outside in a winter coat and not much else.  It's like the moron wants to freeze to death.

Slade curses to himself even as he goes to get changed into warm clothes.  

He's annoyed Jason doesn't take care of himself.  He's more annoyed that it'd taken him this long to realize Jason was outside actively not taking care of himself.  Too busy taking care of others to even give two thoughts to himself.

The little moron.

At least he's predictable.  Slade’s able to find him not even fifteen minutes after leaving the apartment. 

He's sitting cross legged on the snow covered sidewalk, gesturing wildly as half a dozen dirty kids stare at him in rapt attention. 

And Slade was expecting Jason not to be wearing a hat or scarf or gloves.  He expects him to not be wearing appropriate shoes.  But Slade had checked before he left: Jason's winter coat was definitely not on their coat rack.  So why he’s sitting in the snow in a t-shirt is a mystery to Slade.  

“Where the fuck is your coat?” Slade asks, staring down at the dimwit he loves. 

Jason stops mid-sentence and glances up at him.  He shrugs.  “Someone else needed it more.  And I'm wearing coveralls anyway.  I didn't need it.”  He tugs at the bib stretching across his chest.  “I’m warm enough.”

“Coveralls don't cover your arms, moron.  Or your hands,” Slade replies, throwing Jason's gloves, hat, and scarf down on his lap.  “You better not give those away.  Can't help anyone if you freeze to death.”

Jason rolls his eyes even as he slips on the hat.  “You mind?” He gestures to the kids piled around him.  “I was telling a story.”

Slade wants to argue that Jason still isn't wearing a jacket and he needs to get someplace warm.  But he knows him too well to think that sort of argument will work.  He takes off his own jacket and throws it at Jason, glad he'd worn a thermal under it.  “Oh, please, don't let me stop you.”

Jason blinks at him, like he'd expected some sort of argument.  “Right.  Okay,” he mumbles before he slips on the jacket.  “Okay, so! The princess is tied up, right?” he asks, looking around at all the kids eagerly.  “And she can’t get out.  She's surrounded by dragons.”  His wild hand gestures are back in full force.  “And she's almost given up.  But then!  A dashing knight drops from the ceiling.  He goes after the toughest dragon first.  And it's an incredible fight.  The dragon leader doesn't give an inch.  But neither does the dashing knight.”

It's an oddly familiar story, Slade realizes.  Sounds a little like their last job, where Jason managed to dislocate his shoulder and Slade had to kill a couple of people to get him out.  Slade waits until all the dragons are slain and the princess is rescued to ask his question, not wanting to interrupt the story again.  “Are you the princess in this story?”

“Shut up, Slade.  It's pretend.” Except Jason’s turning red. It's enough of a sign that Jason's retelling their latest job for the brats of Gotham.

And Slade’s never thought of himself as a knight.  Has certainly never thought of himself as a protector.  He's a mercenary.  A bad guy.  He may not be excited about the descriptor, but he can't argue it. 

Except he protects Jason.  And he's good at it.  Appreciated. 

And Jason notices enough to have made him into a pretend knight in his kid story.

“Are you ready to go home yet?” Slade asks Jason.  “It's freezing out here.”

“Nah, I'm fine,” Jason answers, wrapping Slade’s jacket tighter against himself.  He smirks up at him.  “A dashing knight gave me his jacket.”

Slade rolls the one eye he's got left.  “Alright, Princess.  Let's go home. I don't trust you to take care of yourself.”

“Ah, my wonderful knight,” Jason answers, getting up and leaning against Slade.  “Always looking out for me.” He smiles at him as Slade wraps an arm around him. 

“We both know you aren't going to do it for yourself,” Slade answers, doing his best to sound grumpy.  But he doesn't accomplish it.  The fucking kids know he's happy to have Jason pressed against him.  It's certainly no secret from Jason himself.

Jason grins at all the kids.  “Find someplace warm.  I’ll see you all here tomorrow night, okay?”

Slade promises himself that tomorrow he’ll be there to make sure Jason doesn’t give his coat away.

Tbc

Chapter Text

“It goes beyond good or bad,” Jason says, head on Slade’s lap and ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ sitting open, face down on his chest.  “It’s about a devastating moment in history.  It's telling a story that the world needs to hear,” he continues in full lecture mode.  “Can it be a little dry sometimes? Sure.  But that doesn't mean it's not an emotional book.  And that certainly doesn't mean it's bad .”

“A simple ‘no,’ when I asked you to skip the paragraph would have been fine,” Slade replies, glancing away from his knitting to look at Jason.  “By all means, keep trying to put me to sleep.”

Jason pouts.  “If you don't like it, I can read something else.”

“Read whatever you'd like,” Slade replies flippantly.  “As long as I'm listening to the sound of your voice I'm happy.”

Jason can't help a small smile.  “Then don't ask me to skip paragraphs, asshole.”

Slade smiles back.  “It was a simple question about a particularly long-winded, repetitive paragraph.  A ‘no,’ would have been fine.”

Jason turns so his face is pressed into Slade’s stomach.  “You just like pissing me off.”

Slade runs a hand through Jason's hair.  “It's not my fault your rants are cute.”

“You're looking for a fight,” Jason accuses before turning his head again so he's looking up.  He focuses on Slade’s knitting.  “That's not a scarf.”

Slade smiles at him.  “It's not.  I already made a scarf.” He looks at Jason's scarf that's resting on their coat rack.  “Thought I'd try something more complicated.”

“Didn't want to make scarves for your kids?”

“Wanted to make you a hat instead,” Slade answers.  He frowns down at his project.  “It's, admittedly, a little harder than the scarf.”

Jason grabs Slade’s hand away from the knitting and kisses his knuckles.  “I promise to wear your fucked up hat.”

“I'm holding you to that,” Slade replies with a frown.  “Your dumbass never dresses warm enough.”

“I think I prefer walking in on you two having sex,” Damian’s voice cuts across the room. 

Jason lifts up and turns, and, yeah, that's his little brother hanging out in the window.  He rolls his eyes.  “Get in and close the window; you're letting the hot air out.”

Slade moves so he's at Jason's back.  He winds an arm around his chest.  “Wayne piss you off again?” he asks Damian.  

“I don't understand any of his dumb rules!” Damian exclaims, instantly upset as he slams the window closed.  “He insists Mother is a bad person, but Mother would do anything for him!  It doesn't make sense !”

Jason sighs and leans back against Slade as he watches his little brother pace across his floor.  “Yeah, kid, adults rarely do.”

“Father loves her too!  I know he does.” He grits his teeth and clenches his fists together.  “So how can he speak like that about her?”

“Your father,” Slade explains, “is a moron.”

“Slade.”

He continues before Jason can mount a protest. 

“He's got that stupid ‘Batman is a symbol’ thing going,” Slade explains, sounding annoyed.  “And Batman's perfect.  Has to hold on to all these stupid, bullshit ideals.  Except Batman is Bruce Wayne, and Bruce Wayne is just a man.”  He looks between Damian and Jason.  “He's the perfect example of when you take your alter ego too far.”  He fixes his gaze on Damian.  “I'm sure Bruce Wayne loves your mother.  Just like I'm sure Bruce Wayne can't let Batman love your mother.  And that poses a problem, since they're the same man.”

Damian frowns at him. “I do not understand.”

“In summary,” Jason says, staring fixedly at Slade, “Bruce Wayne is an idiot, and Batman is everything he thinks he should be.”

“That doesn't help,” Damian replies, still frowning.

Jason finally looks over at his brother.  “I'm sure Bruce loves Talia, Dami.  He just doesn't think he should.  Life is all black and white to him.  He doesn't understand the grays like we do.” He doesn't bother gesturing to anyone, since he's speaking about everyone in the room. 

“Does Wayne know you're here?” Slade asks before they can get farther into the emotional bullshit. 

“No,” Damian sniffs. “But I can text him.”

“Staying for dinner then?” Jason asks, pulling away from Slade and getting up from the couch to go check on the dinner in question. 

“Yes,” Damian answers.  “Thank you,” he adds after a few seconds of silence. 

“Sometimes you just need a Bruce break,” Jason replies from the kitchen, not even having to raise his voice for Damian to hear him across the small apartment.  “I get that.”

“He can be insufferable,” Damian admits before moving to sit beside Slade on the couch.  “He keeps making up rules.”

“His expectations of you are growing,” Jason corrects from the kitchen.  “That comes with tighter strings.  If you don't like it stop trying to make him happy.”

Damian frowns.  “There's no middle ground?”

Jason shrugs even though Damian can't see him.  “None that I've found.” He comes back into the living room.  Sits on the couch so his little brother is sandwiched between him and Slade.  “But that doesn't mean every lesson he gives you is right.  You're allowed to use some and dismiss others.”

Slade shrugs when Damian looks at him.  “I'm more than familiar with League beliefs, kid, and I'm dating a Bat.  Not like I'm going to judge you for whichever ones you follow or don't.”

“Yep,” Jason agrees, throwing an arm over Damian's shoulder.  “You've got two people on your side, no matter what you decide to do.  So don't stress about it too much, alright?”

Damian frowns at the floor but nods.  “Fine.  That is … helpful,” he admits.

Tbc

Chapter Text

Jason's tied to a ballast.  And he should be able to unite himself, but he can't.  Maybe he's panicking too much.  Maybe the knot is too complicated.  Maybe his fingers are too stiff; too broken.  But the point is he can't.  He's stuck here.   

He can't run anyway, because at least one of his legs are broken.  He sees part of his shin bone splintered up from the skin.  Thinks maybe it’s his tibia, but he could be wrong; he never passed anatomy.  

His mom is laughing at him, and she sounds exactly like the Joker.  She's tied to a ballast too, grinning around a cigarette like she can't wait for the bomb to go off. 

And there is a bomb.  Jason can hear it ticking.  His heart is beating in time with it.  The ticking picks up speed to match his racing heart.  And the ticking’s getting louder and louder until it’s almost drowning out his mother’s laughter.  

Jason recognizes that he might be panicking.

He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he's not going to get out of here.  Batman's not coming, and he's going to die here.  There's no hope left in him.  And the bomb is going to go off any second. 

He feels the heat of an explosion on his skin, and then, suddenly, he's in bed, gasping up at the ceiling as Slade sleeps oblivious next to him.

Jason's breathing calms as soon as he realizes he's safe, and then his brain sets to work distinguishing what’s memory and what’s dream.  

It's unfortunate exactly how much of the dream was actually a memory.  And despite how long ago his death was, all the feelings in his dream are sitting in his chest like he'd just experienced them for the first time.

It's safe to say he's not getting back to sleep anytime soon.  Unfortunate, since he also feels too tired to get out of bed.  He wants to go back to sleep, but he's too restless.

He turns to look at Slade, still sleeping peacefully. 

A nice orgasm would probably put Jason right back to sleep.  And he's still loose from Slade’s work a few hours ago, so he could probably take care of himself quick.  

It's not like Slade’s going to care if Jason uses him like a dildo. 

So Jason crawls under the blankets and slips Slade’s soft cock into his mouth.  Twirls his tongue around it.  Sucks on it.  

It doesn't take long for Slade to get hard, and Jason isn't that far behind.  

Jason didn't realize this was a thing for him, but there's something decidely hot about getting off to Slade while the other man's sleeping.  

He slips his mouth off him and climbs on top of his hips, finally flicking the blankets off Slade to give himself full access.

Slade makes a grumbling little whine as Jason slides him in, but otherwise makes no other move or sounds.

And then Jason gets to work, moving up and down on Slade’s cock, going at the best pace for himself, not having to worry about whether it's fast or slow or hard enough for Slade.  

Slade mumbles something and Jason can't help but answer back.  “Like that, baby?” Jason asks with a smirk.  “Like it when I use you?”

Slade moans and uses a hand to grip one of Jason's thighs.  But he doesn't stop Jason's movements and he doesn't open his eyes. 

“Fuck,” Jason answers, moving a hand to Slade’s chest to help his balance as he speeds up his pace from on top of Slade.

At a certain point, he must lean back, because he's staring at the ceiling when Slade meets his thrust with one of his own.  Jason gasps and looks down, locking eyes with a now-awake Slade.  “You're supposed to be sleeping for this,” Jason says, breathless. 

Slade rocks up into him.  “Should be a crime, sleeping through this show.”  It comes out deep and hoarse from sleep, and Jason feels a shiver go up his spine.

Jason matches his smirk as he looks down at him.  “Oh yeah? Like what you're seeing?”

“Can't believe you were going to let me sleep through this,” Slade answers before flipping them over so he's hovering over Jason. 

Jason squirms, trying to find some leverage so he can keep going but finding none.  “Was just trying to get off real fast so I could go back to sleep,” he mutters.  “I don't need you teasing me.” He squirms again.  “If you're steering then let me have it.”

Slade pounds into him hard enough to have Jason gasping.  “Sorry, darlin’.  Didn't realize you wanted this fast and dirty.”  He smirks as he sets a brutal pace. 

Jason can't do anything other than moan in response, not able to catch his breath enough for actual words.  Slade’s cock is shoving against his prostate and his stomach is rubbing against Jason's dick, and it's sudden and intense and Jason's cumming before he can even ready himself for it.

And Slade just keeps on going, slamming into Jason even as Jason clenches around him. 

“Fuck,” Jason mutters right before Slade’s shuddering and cumming from above him. 

Slade pulls out and rolls over, so he's lying on his back again.  “You woke me up, so you get to clean us up.”

Jason stares at the ceiling as he catches his breath.  “I woke you up in the best way possible.  That means you owe me.  You clean us up.”

“Did you wake me up?” Slade asks.  “I'm fairly sure I'm still sleeping.”

Jason smacks him in the arm.  “Did that hurt?” he snaps, not waiting for an answer.  “Then you aren't sleeping.  Go get a washcloth.”

“You're always so cute in the mornings,” Slade says before he rolls out of bed and heads for their bathroom. 

“Love you too, babe,” Jason yells at his back with a smile on his face. 

Tbc

Chapter Text

“Time to wake up. Now.”

It's Slade’s voice, low and demanding, and when Jason blinks his eyes open it's to Slade hovering over him.  “Well, hey,” Jason greets as he tries to make sense of what's going on.  “Tryna get in me?”

“I could,” Slade growls at him before he gets up.  “But then I'd have to kill a bunch of people, so we probably shouldn't.”  He shakes his head as if he’s talking himself out of it.  “No.  We need to leave.”

Something gets thrown at Jason's face, and it takes him a minute to realize it's a shirt.  “Leave?” he asks, blinking at the shirt.  “Who we need to kill? What?”  But then he starts making sense of things.  Red and blue strobe lights are filtering through the room as Slade tugs on a pair of pants.  It's enough to get Jason up and going, throwing on the shirt before he's looking for his own pair of pants.  Cops.  At their safe house.  Fuck.  “We been made?”

Slade shrugs.  “Maybe.  Don't know.  They just got here.  But don't wanna stick around to see what door they're banging on.”

“Got anything important here?” Jason asks, grabbing his duffle from the closest and stuffing everything Red Hood and Deathstroke related into it. 

“I've got ‘em,” Slade answers, grabbing a second duffle and heading out of the bedroom.  “Anything of yours I need to grab?”

Jason racks his brain, but, luckily, this isn't a safe house they use very often.  “I was re-reading Dracula. It's over by-”

“Already got it,” Slade answers.  “And grabbing all our shit from the coffee table.”

“That should be it then,” Jason answers, slipping on his combat boots.  “We'll leave from the roof.  Let's go.”

They leave the apartment as silently as they can, and they must have beaten the police because the hallways are quiet.  Still, Jason doesn't say anything until they're on the roof and he's passing Slade his Deathstroke mask.  

“Well, that alias is fucking burned,” he mutters.  “I really liked that one too.”

Still, it's not surprising that the place has been compromised.  This is his closest alias to Red Hood.  He might have gotten a little too lax about that shit; he didn't realize the GCPD was actively looking for him. 

You'd think Dick or Babs would've said something. 

Slade's looking at him from across the roof, one eyebrow raised.  “You liked the name James Tanner?  Thought you said it made you feel like a character from Full House.”

“I didn't like the name,” Jason corrects, leaning over the building to see how far along the cops are in their raid.  It looks like they're still suiting up.  Buncha slow fucks.  “I did like that James Tanner was making bank off a bar he bought in the Diamond District.”

“We can buy another bar,” Slade replies before nodding his head away from the largest group of cops circling their building.  “Now, we getting out of here or not?”

Jason frowns.  “Yeah.  We'll go to Lincoln.  Get properly packed and geared up.  Call O.  Then probably leave town for a while until the heat dies down.” He sighs, shoots out his grapple, and goes, confident that Slade’s following behind him.

Lincoln is only a few blocks away, so it doesn't take long before Jason's sliding open a window and ducking in.  He's calling Babs before Slade’s made it fully into the room.

“The one and only Oracle, at your service,” Babs greets as soon as the call goes through. 

“Hey, O.  You happen to know what the commissioner's doing tonight?”

Babs hums.  “I think it was a raid?  Some suspicious activity from some low-level guy.  They have enough to take him in, hoping it'll lead to something bigger.”

“Mhm.  Yeah.  This guy have a name?”

There's the sound of the clanking of typing in the background.  “Uh … A Victor Montague.  Why? The name mean something to you?”

Jason's shoulders relax.  At least the cops weren't coming after him; his alias remains in good standing.  He flashes Slade a thumbs up, hoping that'll be enough to tell him that they're in the clear.  “The name doesn't, no.  The address does though.”

There's silence for a beat.  “Oh.  One of your safe houses is in that building?”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “What do you mean, ‘oh’?  Don't pretend like you didn't know.”

“I didn't,” Babs snaps back.  “You complained to me months ago that you didn't appreciate us playing detective into your private life.  I took that to assume you didn't want me snooping either.  So, while I can't block out knowledge of where I already know your safe houses are, I have tried to go out of my way not to uncover any others.  Although, I'll admit, ‘James Tanner'? Not a good cover.  You've gotta stop making all your aliases have the same initials.”

“Yeah, thanks, O.  I'll keep that in mind,” Jason replies, rolling his eyes.  “A heads up woulda been nice.  I just went jumping over a handful of rooftops in nothing but pajama pants and a T-shirt.”

Jason can hear Bab’s frown through the phone.  “Is this you giving me permission to spy on you?”

“None of the other bats can ever know,” Jason replies instead of giving his permission.  “And if you see me do anything embarrassing you aren't allowed to bring it up.  Ever.” He glances over at Slade.  “And if you see Slade do anything embarrassing you are to tell me immediately.”

“Oi!” Slade says at the same time Oracle answers back with, “Ten-four.  Will do.  Consider yourself under Oracle security.”

“Billy can tap into street cameras too, I'll have you know,” Slade says as soon as Jason says his goodbyes to Oracle. 

“Oh, yeah?  How much you think he'll charge you for that?” Jason asks with a snort and a smile. 

“Less than I can afford if you decide to use anything Oracle gives you against me.”

Jason laughs.  “I don't think you have to worry.  You're only ever embarrassing around me anyway.”

Slade smirks at him.  “Not my fault I look at you and all the blood in my brain rushes south.” He grabs his crotch, as if Jason would have a hard time understanding what he was saying if he didn't. 

“See? Like now,” Jason replies, rolling his eyes.  “Very embarrassing.” He looks towards the window and points at Slade.  “You getting this, O?”

There's a camera mounted on their neighbor's building, pointed at them.  It moves shakily up and down. 

Jason grins at Slade but keeps facing the window.  “Oracle security sure does work fast,” he tells the camera.  

Tbc

Chapter Text

Jason's been waiting for some sort of explosion since he and Slade had come to Wayne Manor with Joey and Rose.  He's not really sure who thought it was a good idea to put all the Wilsons in the same room as all the bats and birds, but Alfred had asked them to come and Jason didn't have the heart to tell him no.  

Not to mention Alfred had this whole speech about the new year meaning new beginnings and blah blah blah.  Jason had stopped listening when it became apparent he wouldn't be able to excuse himself out of it.

So far, luckily, it's been a relatively calm evening.

They’ve got the news on, poised to watch the ball drop, even though it’s not even ten o’clock yet.  But it’s only background noise as they shout at each other over a Monopoly board.  

Or, it was background noise, before Jason heard the reporter say his name.

“That’s right, folks!  You heard it here first!  Jason Todd-Wayne, the presumed-dead second son of Bruce Wayne, has come home.  Proving that Christmas miracles do, in fact, come true.”

Jason turns towards Slade, eyes wide.  “How the fuck- How did you …?” Because it had to have been Slade, even if Jason has absolutely no idea how he did it.

Slade’s glaring at the television.  “Can’t believe someone leaked it.  It was supposed to be a surprise.  I don’t even have your undead papers yet.”

Jason snorts.  “That makes it sound like I’m a zombie.”

“We’re still gathering information about this incident,” the announcer continues, “but our source tells us that Jason Wayne had been held as a political prisoner in Qurac since his presumed death.  He was released after a coup, led by the newly-appointed President of Qurac, Malik Aziz.  Aziz released him, along with several dozen other American citizens, in a show of good faith.  Aziz hopes to strengthen America’s relationship with Qurac.”

“How the fuck-?” Jason asks again.  

Slade shrugs.  “It’s surprisingly easy to start a coup if you give some really angry people some really nice guns.”

Jason blinks.  “You overthrew a government for me?”

Slade shrugs again.  “Of course I did.  I love you.”

Rose leans across the Monopoly board to glare at her father.  “Does this mean you don’t love me?  Since you’ve overthrown exactly zero governments for me ?  Even though I’ve asked you to?”

“Jaylad,” Bruce says, looking very uncomfortable in his armchair, “if you wanted to be declared alive, all you had to do was ask.  There are easier ways to get something like that done.”

“I disagree,” Slade replies, his voice calm as he puts his hand on Jason's thigh.  “This was very easy.”

Bruce glares at him.  “You put people’s lives in danger.  You started a civil war.”

“I brought democracy to an oppressed people,” Slade corrects.  “If I was still serving in the military they’d have given me a Medal of Honor.”

“And I’m alive,” Jason says, talking over whatever grievance Bruce is about to voice.  He turns back towards Slade.  “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Slade agrees with a smile.  “We can get married.  We can have kids.  You can go back to school.  You can do whatever the fuck you want, sweetheart.”

“You guys wanna have kids?  Tryna hold onto your youth a little tightly there, aren’t cha, Pops?” Rose asks with a delighted grin.  

“Jason.  I didn’t know you wanted to go back to school,” Bruce says, and when Jason looks at him he looks crushed. 

Jason shrugs.  “I mean, I don’t know if I do or don’t,” he admits.  Because he doesn’t.  College has always been some unreachable dream to him.  And, even now, it still feels like it is, given that he’d need to get his GED first.  And even that seems difficult, given that it’s been close to a decade since he went to high school, and he barely remembers any of it.  

“You should,” Steph pipes up.  “If nothing else then do it for spite.  Prove to all those assholes that looked down on us that we’re just as smart as they are.  That’s why I’m going to school.”

Bruce gives an audible sigh.  “Stephanie, that is not why you should be going to school”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Steph replies, not looking all that upset about being chastised.  “I’m also going because education is important.  Blah blah blah.”

Slade squeezes Jason’s shoulder.  “We’ve got plenty of time to think about it.  No sense stressing about it tonight.”

Out of everything, it’s the “we” that has Jason breathing easier.  Because everything always seems easier when Slade’s with him.  

“If you do want to go back to school-,” Bruce starts.

“If I want to go back, I’ll let you know,” Jason interrupts, not wanting to hear whatever goodwill gesture Bruce is trying to make.  “It’s a lot to think about.”  He slips his hand into Slade’s.  “It’s a lot to talk about.  But I’ll let you know if I do decide to go back, okay?”

Bruce nods.  “And the kids-”

Jason rolls his eyes.  “Yes, Bruce, I’ll also let you know if and when you become a grandparent.”

“I think you will make a very good parent, Todd,” Damian says quietly. 

“You can tell them Robin stories!” Dick pipes in excitedly.

“And talk them into being vigilantes?” Jason huffs.  “Think again, Dickhead.”

Slade smirks.  “Yes, if anything we’ll raise them to be mercenaries.  Much more lucrative.”

“Pretty sure a job requirement of a mercenary is no parental guidance,” Rose, the mercenary, says as she smirks at her father. 

“Crime lord then,” Jason offers.

Slade runs a hand through Jason's hair.  “They can inherit the family business.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose.  “There are some things that should not be joked about.”

‘I agree,’ Joey signs. ‘Crime lord is a serious business.  I will help with training.’

Jason can’t help but laugh at Bruce’s exasperated look.  

When the ball drops, Jason’s confident that the new year will bring great things with it.

END