Work Text:
Slade pulled the disk he had been working on for approximately the last ten hours from his computer and plopped it on the desk uncharacteristically. He had no idea of the time, or the date, for that matter. He just knew he had a migraine and hadn’t slept or eaten in a very long time. He leaned back in his chair with a mighty sigh and flicked the mouse so the screen next to him, the one he hadn’t been paying attention to, flickered to life. It read 9:20pm, November 13th. Something about the date struck a cord, so that other than calculating the 9.47 hours he had spent on his project, his mind was focused on it for a second. It clicked like a light going on just a second later, and Slade was surprised that he hadn’t thought about it all year. This was the day.
Almost 9:30. He wondered if Robin would keep their ritual. He stood up. It would take him almost two hours to get there by normal speed, and if he didn’t want to miss Mr. Grayson, he should probably move quickly. He strode to the door, then backtracked. He wasn’t going to be wearing white to this meeting. He never had. Heading to the basement, Slade opened the box he knew contained that uniform. The one he had worn when… He grabbed the under armour and slid it on, then picked up the helmet and metal plates and headed up the stairs, putting them on one by one as he went. By the time he hopped on his motorbike, which was parked right outside the house as usual, he was already dressed.
He dipped around corners and sped through lanes, trying to avoid most of what was now light traffic. When he pulled up, he swung off almost before the engine was off and walked inside as if he owned the place. Well, he did. Or once had. And now here he was, hoping that Robin would be here, as he always had been, every year, since the day he had first left.
Slade switched the lights on from the breaker on the outside and watched them flicker to life. He walked inside and saw the short and lithe form of Nightwing’s back, standing on the bridge that had once spanned through the top portion of the base, and was now severed down the middle. Slade had always been partial to darkness, and the lighting reflected that, but he would recognise Robin’s body anywhere. Any time. As he walked towards him, a voice echoed through the giant hall, just as Slade’s footsteps were. “You’re a little late. It’s supposed to be ten thirty, last I checked.”
Slade smiled, but he tried to hide it from his voice. Smiles were rare, but he didn’t want Nightwing to know he carried one for him. “Last I checked, there was no reason to come at all.”
“Then why are you here?” Nightwing turned to face him.
“I own the building. Why are you here?” It was a question they asked each other each time, and Slade followed it up the same way he always did. “As I recall, it was you who wanted to walk out of here in the first place.”
Dick sighed. He didn’t say anything as Slade jumped up to the next level to join him. They faced each other for a while. In the early days, this usually resulted in a fight. Even Robin admitted later that he came there to fight- wanted to fight- wanted to remember. But his reason for being here on this day changed every year. Slade’s reason was always the same.
“Why are you really here?”
“I recall asking first.”
“Humor me.”
Slade paused for a minute, then he said what he said every year. “I still want you for myself, I suppose.” Exactly the same phrasing. Dick nodded. “Same as last year. And the year before.”
“Woah, starting to sound a little like The Brian here.”
“Aren’t I?” Slade agreed. Dick chuckled. “But you never do. The first year… what was it? You ‘knew’ I would come here and wanted to catch me? The next year…” Slade turned around and walked a few paces away, hands behind his back. God, Nightwing remembered hating that put-together pose, but now he sort of liked it. Almost like nostalgia. “Ah, I remember, you thought that I should be offered the chance to turn over a new leaf. The next year you wanted to fight- my personal favorite. The year after that you said you needed to remember something about your past… about the Titans, and about me, came here to jog your memory. As I recall, the next year you simply said you missed the view. Touching. Tell me, Robin… were they all lies?”
It had been a while since Slade had called him Robin, but it sounded just the same, and suddenly Nightwing was in love with that voice all over again. “Not all of them.” He whispered. “Not at first, they weren’t.”
“Hmm. Perhaps this year you will tell me the truth again.”
“Some of them were half truths.”
“Which ones?”
“I really did kind of miss the view.”
Ah. Slade turned to face Robin again. Except it wasn’t Robin. It was still Dick Grayson, but he was different, and the outfit alone didn’t say that. Something else had changed about him.
“For my part, I almost missed the meeting.” Slade admitted, suddenly feeling like he needed to come clean about it.
“Yeah, police scanners caught you speeding down the alleyways. Risky.”
“You’re one to lecture me.”
“I’ll have you know that I have cooled considerably in my old age.” Nightwing said with false offence.
“Yes, I heard about the incident with the-”
“Hey, hey!” Nightwing pointed his finger at Slade, cutting him off.
“I’ll make you a deal: tell me why you’re here and we’ll say I forgot the rest of my sentence.”
“The truth for a lie, huh? I’ll take it.” Dick also turned away now. There was a long and pregnant pause before he said, “Do you remember, Slade… when you kissed me? It was right here, right where I’m standing.”
Slade chuckled. “I remember you fought for you life against it. I remember you spat at my feet after I’d had my way.”
“That’s how I remember it, too.” Dick replied. It was little more than a mumble, but their voices were the only sounds now. “What if I told you the reason I came here was… because I was hoping… maybe… if you had a mind to…”
He didn’t say anything else, until, at last, Slade said in a sarcastic voice, “Kiss you again?”
“Heh. Something like that.”
Slade looked at his back with some amount of surprise. “Start over?”
“Could we really leave this place behind? Leave everything we’ve fought about, and over, behind? Leave what you’ve done behind? Leave how I’ve retaliated behind?”
“Reconcile?”
Dick looked back at him, and his smile was sad, so unlike the usual Nightwing. “That’s the word.”
Slade had always been better with actions than with words, so he came as close as he could, Nightwing turning to face him, and removed his mask. It wasn’t as if he had an identity to hide anymore. It had always been a kind of game between them, like hide and seek. Find out who I am, Robin, or else. He left the mask fall to the ground with a clatter that boarded on ear-splitting in the stark silence, but Dick didn’t flinch at all. Slade then reached out and wrapped his arms around Dick, pulling him impossibly closer against his armour. Dick relaxed and let his body sink in, almost like he could bend around the sharp points of steel Slade was carrying on his body. There couldn’t have been a better metaphor, really. Dick was always good at bending around things. Around the rules. Around Slade’s rigid personality. He had a way of leaking in where nothing was supposed to be, even when Slade was at his most desperate and most furious.
It was Dick who kissed him, at last. It was long and languid, and, just as Slade had imagined he would kiss, passionate. He moved side to side gently, coating Slade’s lips, and Slade lent him the power, allowed him to control the kiss, though by no means standing stoically. It felt as if bursts of energy were traveling through his entire spine, and his body ached with want so powerful he felt he should rip Richard’s clothes off and pleasure him until he filled the silence with moan and screams of ecstasy. But Slade held back and poured all his emotions into the space between their lips, perhaps squeezing Dick’s waist too tightly. They broke apart panting. Slade stopped himself from diving right back into it.
“I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t…” Dick said. Then he did. There was a lot more tongue this time, something Slade was enjoying, and he left his hands roam all over that incredible body, fondling his ass as Dick moaned, touching all up his spine, his back muscles, feeling every tight thew straining with the same effort… holding himself back, just as Slade was. He wished to every god in the sky that he had removed his gloves. When they broke this time, Slade took a step back, but he didn’t retrieve his mask. “Damn…” Nightwing said, then he tried to inject some humor into the situation, like always. “At least buy me dinner first.”
“Very well, dinner. How do you feel about Thai?”
Dick knew he wasn’t kidding. He never really was, was he? He sighed. “Sure. I love it.”
“There’s a nice place-”
“Corner of Ross and Fiddle?”
“Ah, you know it, good. We might want to change…”
“I’d love to see you in a suit. Plus you’d look less like a pirate.”
Slade nearly rolled his good eye. Nearly. “As if I look like a pirate now.” He said sardonically, swooping to pick up his mask. He didn’t put it back on.
“And will you be wearing white?”
“Not in the sense you’re implying, though I do have a suit if you prefer the color.”
“On you? Always.” Dick said, grinning. He used his grappling hook unnecessarily to reach the bottom and ended up right at the door. Slade simply jumped down. Finesse. Straight-forward. They’d always been this way, as far back as Slade could remember.
“Do you want a ride, Robin?” He asked.
“I have my own, and I’m not Robin anymore.” Dick said, smiling at Slade. Such a beautiful face, and all his at long last.
“Hm. Here, you always are.” Slade said, and he flipped the breaker switch down. The lights went off, and they were off forevermore.