Chapter Text
Gotham High School for the Arts was in the midst of a very lively Thursday night. A select number of graduating visual art students were gathered in the halls of the art building, the culmination of their hard work in full display.
Because only about 10 students had been chosen to be featured at this event, just a smattering of parents attended. Most of the people there were other kids, who were either part of the gallery or supporting their friends, explaining the presence of one Richard Grayson, who did not go to this school.
It did not explain the absence of one Joseph Wilson, the only person he knew here and the sole reason he had come.
At first, Dick wasn’t sure why Joey had dipped out, but after finding the 18-year-old sitting ramrod straight in the courtyard, seemingly uninterested in the festivities, he had a pretty good guess.
“I think the last time I saw you this anxious was when SAT scores were coming out,” Dick remarked, stepping up onto the concrete planter and slotting himself behind his boyfriend. He put both hands on the other’s shoulders, massaging the growing tension out of them. “And even then, you weren’t this stressed.”
Joey tilted his head back, nestling it between Dick’s shoulder and neck, and huffed out a breath. “ I know, I’m just—” his hands stopped in the middle of the next sign, forming a different one. “What if he hates it?”
“He’d have to bother to show up first,” Dick mumbled in response, failing to conceal the irritation in his words. When heartbroken, glassy eyes looked back up at him, he winced and tried again. “Sorry. I meant, this is your senior showcase, of course he’s coming and of course he’s gonna love it! How could he not?”
“Well, art is subjective.”
“Ok, ruin my sentiment with logic,” Dick chuckled, getting up from his spot to extend a hand. “Come on, the doors opened an hour ago, there’s still plenty of time. He’ll be here, I know it. In the meantime, there’s a hundred teens and teachers inside just itching to pass their judgement.”
Joey felt a small smile creep up on him as he jumped off the planter, linking arms with the other boy. “Is it bad that that actually makes me feel better ?”
“No, you always were a glutton for punishment.”
That got a genuine laugh out of him as he not-so-gently bumped shoulders with Dick, then pulled open the exhibit’s front doors.
It wasn’t until the night was winding down, with several of the students’ paintings and sculptures successfully set to be sold, that the parent in question actually made an appearance.
As the hall grew increasingly quieter, Dick leaned into the body that had sidled up to him, now both staring at the clay figurine on display before them. It was a mess of slate-colored material: what looked like deformed limbs were tangled with long tentacles, coming to a point off to its left. It was also quite large, about two feet tall, and had yet to be bought.
“I feel like I’ve been looking at this for 15 whole minutes,” said Dick, rubbing his chin in thought, “and I still have no idea what it’s supposed to be.”
“I don’t know, this is one of Sondra’s. Who knows what’s going on in that brain?” Joey shook his head in amusement, before adopting a more somber expression. “So I think it’s about time to call it a night.”
“Oh?” Furrowing his brow, Dick reached up to smooth an errant hair of Joey’s back behind his ear. “Are you sure? What about—”
“They’re closing it all up soon, if he’s not here by now—”
“Joseph,” a gruff voice sounded from behind them. As the boys turned around, all three pairs of eyes widened as they came face-to-face… two of which widened for entirely similar reasons.
Though he was almost unrecognizable without the orange and blue armor, instead dressed in a clean and pressed black suit, the shock of white hair and eyepatch were very distinguishing features. There, standing a mere five feet away, was the unmistakable form of Slade Wilson.
Cue the Kill Bill sirens.
If anyone in this current configuration had any sort of telepathic abilities, they probably would've heard something like this.
Joey: Oh, god, he’s actually here?
Dick: Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!
Slade: Fuck.
But none of them did and, sadly, Joey’s powers didn’t quite work that way.
What happened instead was—
“You came.” Blissfully unaware, Joey moved first, tentatively reaching out with a hand to tap the older man on the arm, as if to confirm he was physically there.
“Yeah, I said I’d make it, didn’t I?” Slade put a hand on his son’s shoulder in what looked to be some kind of aborted attempt at a one-armed hug, the piercing gaze of his good eye still on the other boy who hadn’t yet moved. “Who’s this?” he asked, nonchalantly as possible.
“This is my boyfriend, Dick.” Joey informed him as he rejoined Dick’s side. “Meet my dad.”
To his credit, Dick changed little of his outward appearance despite his panicky inner monologue. (Being trained by the Batman counted for more than just vigilantism). “This— this is your dad?” The teen cleared his throat and schooled his expression into one he hoped could come off as ecstatic, thrusting out a hand to shake. "Ohh, Mr. Wilson… it's a pleasure to finally meet you!"
Taking the offered hand in his own, Slade's mouth curled up into a toothy sharp grin as he squeezed way too hard. Dick might've sworn he heard bones crack, though he made no noise of discomfort— he wasn't about to let Slade have the satisfaction.
"You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend."
Joey stilled.
Maybe it was the inflection in his father's voice - almost accusatory, like it was his fault Slade wasn't around to tell these things to.
Maybe it was the fact he was holding onto said boyfriend with a vice-like grip, eye trained on him as if he was in the middle of an assessment. Like he had the right to have any sort of opinion.
Or maybe it was showing up so last-minute that some areas of the exhibit were already cordoned off, even after he had promised multiple times that he'd get there on time . Maybe it was all of these things, just piled right on top of the nearly two decades of resentment!
Whatever it was, it caused something in Joey to snap. "Yeah, we're gonna go," he scoffed, breaking the handshake and pulling Dick away. "Have fun looking around. I think the atrium's the only thing still open."
"What?" Slade blinked, his focus finally shifting onto his son. "Didn't you want to show me–"
"Not really," Joey cut him off, his signing slowly growing more agitated. "They're closing up in 30 minutes, don’t get locked in.” In one swift motion, he slid an arm around Dick’s waist, swung them around to the exit, and walked out, leaving his father speechless.
“You ok?” Dick paused as they arrived at the car, resting an elbow on the chrome roof. “That was—”
“I don’t know why I expected anything different,” Joey expressed with such a clear bitterness, it was almost audible. “That’s dad… rarely shows up and when he does, it’s just to disappoint.”
Dick’s response of I’m sorry died in his throat— because he wasn’t really. Well, no, he did feel bad for Joey… just not as much as he was relishing the sight of Slade getting so summarily rejected.
But that was selfish, this was supposed to be an amazing night for him and, after a less than 30-second conversation, it was ruined.
With luck, though, maybe Dick could at least salvage the end of the night. He climbed into the passenger seat, reaching across the dash to give Joey’s hand a squeeze. “Hey, isn’t that place on Grand St. having their late night happy hour right now? I’m down for some carne asada fries if you are...”
“Don’t you have your calculus final tomorrow morning?”
“Pfft, like I’m worried about that! I could show up half-asleep and ace it.”
Joey drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a second, torn between responsibility and not wanting to be at home just yet. He was craving some greasy meat and potatoes… and that was their second favorite diner—
“Ok!”
***
At half past 11, Dick entered the living room of Wayne Manor, twirling his house keys around a finger. Oh, good , his brothers just happened to all be here tonight, lounging on the couches. Guess it was too much to hope for one at a time. At least Bruce wasn’t there… wait, was that gonna make this better or worse?
“Yo.” Jason was first to see him, legs outstretched over the arm of his chair. He gave him a little salute, before going back to the book he was reading.
“Hello, Richard,” Damian greeted, looking up for just a moment from his tablet. “How was your night?”
“Bet it was preeetty great,” teased Tim as he returned from the kitchen, a cluster of grapes in hand. “You’re getting in kinda late for a school night.”
“Umm, yeah, it was— interesting.” Dick plopped down in an empty seat, still fiddling with his key ring.
Damian covered his screen then, exchanging intrigued glances with the others as he shifted closer. Used to much livelier conversation, the rather subdued nature of the boy threw them for a loop.
“What happened?” Jason immediately demanded. “Is there someone we have to hurt?”
“What, no!”
“Then what’s up? You haven’t been this quiet since Damian first left for college.”
Maintaining eye contact with the floor, Dick stuttered out, “Uhh, I think— I may have made something of an oversight in my relationship?” From the silence that followed, it was obvious he was expected to give more information. He blew out a breath, forcing himself to continue. “I met Joey’s dad tonight.”
“O— kay…” Damian drew out, still confused. Meeting the parents could be stressful, but wasn’t it ultimately good? A sign that they were moving into more serious territory?
Tim sure thought so, as he clapped his younger brother on the back in congratulations. “That’s great, Dickie!”
“Nope, uh-uh, no. No, it’s not!” Finally raising his gaze to meet theirs, Dick chewed on his lower lip, poking his two index fingers into each other again and again. “Mmm, so here’s the thing…”
The resounding WHAT that echoed through the mansion could probably be heard all the way from the Batcave.
Which it could.
Because Bruce had just parked and as he made his way up, he resigned himself to the fact that his night was about to get even longer.
Fortunately, there was almost no further discussion following this revelation, besides an insistence from his family to arrange another meeting with Joey.
He’s the son of a world-class assassin who has tried to kill or recruit you more times than I can count!
How did you not know?
Oh, I'm sorry I didn't think to cross reference him with the thousands of people in this city with the same last name! And you know he has nothing to do with that! He barely has any contact with his dad!
I knew we should’ve run a background check on him…
Nope, that is definitely not the right takeaway here!
Ok, look, just invite him over. That way, we can see exactly what no contact means.
But you guys have met multiple times! You said you liked him!
Correction, Father and Todd have met him. Drake and I were either abroad or off-world.
And I want to reassess him anyway knowing what I know now.
Oh god…
Other than that, it was mostly business as usual… which just wasn’t allowed to last, was it?
After a rather unnoteworthy night of patrol, Robin carefully raced across Gotham’s slick rooftops, eager to get back and watch the season finale of Love Island (UK version, obviously).
“Better hurry it up, Boy Wonder,” Red Robin’s voice crackled through his com-link. “If RH beats you home, he’s definitely going to start the episode without you.”
“Hood, don’t you dare!”
Red Hood’s modulated laughter never sounded more mocking than it did in that moment. “Hey, it’s your fault for getting me into that show in the first place! Next time, don’t switch routes with ‘Wing the night of a thunderstorm!”
“I’m 4 minutes out, just— AHH!” Distracted, Robin slammed into something solid, letting out an aborted cry as he tumbled into a defensive position, looking around for what he had hit.
Make that who.
Out of the shadows, Deathstroke sauntered out, the uncovered part of his swords glinting in the moonlight. “You…” His mask betrayed no emotion, but from the way he was carrying himself and his tone, it was no logical leap to guess he was not happy.
This was just fan-fucking-tastic.
“-bin! Robin, report!” Batman’s growly bass sounded in his ear and he scrambled to answer before anyone came looking out of concern.
“Sorry, I’m here! I’m good… I just—” he glanced around, trying to formulate a believable excuse. “I- I slipped on a cat!” Ugh, stupid!
“What?”
“I mean, there was a puddle and I slipped and fell… on a cat!”
“…Is the cat ok?”
“Yeah, N, the cat is fine,” Robin rolled his eyes beneath the mask. Damian’s love for animals truly knew no bounds. “And so am I, thanks for asking. I’ll be back soon, I’m just gonna drop it off somewhere that’s not a 15-story rooftop.”
“I’m granting you a 10 minute reprieve before I hit play ,” Hood tacked on, “don’t waste it!”
Turning his earpiece off, Robin crossed his arms as he and Deathstroke entered into a stand-off. “Nice of you to finally show up. Bet that's not the first time someone’s said that to you. How ‘bout we keep this short, I only have 10 minutes.”
Luckily, the villain wasn’t one for small talk, quickly brandishing a blade in the smaller hero’s direction. “How long?”
"Whoa, are you trying to skewer your son's boyfriend? That's not gonna make him like you any more!" Robin could be such a petty bitch when he wanted to. Had to live up to his nom de guerre (wonder brat, not the other one) somehow.
A swipe of steel passed right over his head as he ducked away, somersaulting to the center of the roof, putting a more sizable gap between them.
“How. Long?” The modulation from his mask further enhanced the snarl in his voice, sending an involuntary chill down Robin’s back.
“Ok, ok, if you must know. Hmm, it's the end of May so— about 7 months next week?”
Deathstroke’s grip on the sword hilt wavered ever so slightly, though he didn’t lower it. So… it’s been a while. Exactly how much of his son’s life did he not know about? “Where did you meet?”
“Oh, I’ll just give you an entire play-by-play of our relationship, shall I?” came Robin’s suggestion, practically dripping with sarcasm. But when the older man simply gestured with his weapon to carry on, he let out a heavy sigh. “Right, because where else would you hear it from? Joey himself? Nooo, god forbid…”
At the sound of a gun being cocked, Robin put his hands up in surrender, though he couldn’t help the snickers that escaped him. “Alright, relax! He asked me to tutor him in pre-calc a couple of years ago.”
“You go to Gotham Academy,” Deathstroke stated plainly. “And you’re a year younger.”
“A little creepy that you know that, but yes, we both happen to have these things called friends, who throw parties? Also, I’m amazing at math, it’s just a fact. Anyway, then he needed some help with statistics the next year, you know how it goes— stressful study week, late nights at the library, one thing led to another and…”
“What’s your angle?”
Robin paused at the interruption, positively baffled by the insinuation. “My angle? ”
“What, are you using him to get to me? You wouldn’t be the first… Do you expect me to just believe, after all that time, you had no idea who he is to me? 7 months is a long time to play pretend, kid, I’ll give you that. I didn’t think you had it in you to be so cruel—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Robin deadpanned, the anger bubbling inside him bursting forth as a sort of tranquil fury. “You really don’t deserve him…” he muttered under his breath, losing that calm when he nearly shouted his next sentence. “Newsflash, Slade! This is not about YOU! This might come as a shock to you because you have, like, no one in your life or whatever, but I don’t have the ulterior motive you think I do! I actually lo—”
…They hadn’t quite said the L word out loud to each other yet. And Robin certainly was not about to say it for the first time in front of this guy.
“I— I really like Joey. And, guess what, he likes me back! So if that’s a problem for you, then you can just keep doing what you’ve been doing and disappear on him.”
That may have struck a nerve. But before the merc could do more than advance a few paces, gun put away and dual wielding swords now, a phone rang.
Robin flipped up onto the ledge of the roof, maintaining distance, and checked the caller ID. Joey was FaceTiming him. “Wait, shh, shut up for a second!”
Deathstroke, so taken aback by the order, stopped short.
“Hey, babe!” Robin waved a hello as he swiped the green circle to the right.
His camera’s on? Slade thought to himself as he listened in on the half of the conversation he could see.
“You’re not interrupting, I’m just finishing up, not a lot of action tonight. Yes, J, that is a perfectly acceptable weekend brunch outfit. Ahh, my older brothers are softies on the inside, you have nothing to worry about! I am 97% sure… I'm kidding, it's gonna be great! Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow, byye!”
“He knows?” Deathstroke inquired as soon as the call ended.
Robin blinked back at him as if reminding himself he was still there. “He does. I’ve known him for three years, so what?”
A huff of what could be mistaken for delight sounded from under the mask. “I’m sure Bats was real happy about that.”
“He didn’t have much of a choice, it was an accident.” When silence followed again, Robin clarified. “There was this robbery/hostage situation, some things went wrong, I let out a scream at some point and Joey just has an ear for that kind of thing.”
Not wanting to think about all that that implied, Deathstroke moved on to what else he’d been pondering. “Did you tell him… about what I do?”
“Considering that I just found out about you two days ago, ” Robin made sure to heavily stress this point; the connection honestly never occurred to him! “No, I didn’t have the time to tell him. Not that I would anyway… who would that help? It’d just give him another reason to hate you.”
The single eye visible in the orange mask narrowed just a fraction. “How do you figure?”
“Seriously? Are you that emotionally void?” Robin brought his steepled fingers to his lips and took a deep, calming breath. In through his nose, out through his mouth. “You’ve been absent his whole life because you like stealing shit and killing people for the highest bidder. You don’t see how finding that out could possibly make someone upset?”
“Hmm,” Deathstroke only grunted in response. “He’s meeting the bird boys tomorrow?”
“He’s met one, the other two are… not wanting to be left out.”
“If they hurt him, kid, so help me—”
“Oh, please,” Robin dismissed, “they’re not you. Now, are we done here? I have somewhere to be.”
Without so much as another word, the armor-clad assassin jumped down the fire escape and took off into the dark.
As Robin swung home on his grappling line, his heart palpitations nearly all calmed down and head clearer, he came to a realization. “I can't believe I almost got the shovel talk from freaking Deathstroke the Terminator!"