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While Slade tried not to make a habit of dealing with the supernatural, some contracts were far too interesting to pass up. That was how he found himself in the apartment of one little bird he'd been keeping track of for quite some time.
"Deathstroke," Nightwing set down two glasses of water on his shabby little coffee table. He took a seat on his battered couch while Slade remained standing. "Would you like a drink?"
"I'm not supposed to accept food or drink from fae."
Nightwing grinned. For a long time, he'd suspected the vigilante of being more than human. He was too graceful, too fast, too honest. He remembered digging for far too long any information on the man beneath the mask, but there was simply nothing to find. Not in medical records, birth certificates, and certainly not in his bed.
In the end, it was his inability to lie that Slade had used to find out his true nature. Since then, he'd kept his secret for him, not out of the goodness of his heart, but simply to stop anyone from poaching what was his.
Or so he told himself.
"So you remember the basics."
"Of course I remember," Slade rolled his eye. "It pays to be knowledgeable about these sorts of things in my line of work."
"Then," Nightwing's grin disappeared. He lowered his voice and leaned in. "Are you familiar with the Court of Owls?"
"Heard the name around Gotham. Fae, I'm assuming," Slade crossed his arms. "The bat makes it too much of a hassle to take jobs there."
Another fae. A territorial one at that. He protected the city from the shadows, quite literally if the legends were to be believed.
"Can you blame him?"
"Doesn't make my job any easier."
"Yeah yeah, whatever-"
"Now about the Court?"
To the untrained eye, Nightwing gave no reaction. To Slade however, it was clear how his shoulders tensed. His eyes subtly looked around the room, but he found nothing there.
"The Court... They own Gotham. Batman isn't a part of it, but due to arrangements, he's treated like a guest instead of an intruder. In the past, he's managed to avoid working directly against their agenda, even if he's still sabotaged them."
"Which is?"
"Maintaining control over humans," Nightwing grimaced. "Due to their duty as hosts, he's been allowed to operate freely for the most part but..."
"What did he do to piss them off?"
"Have you ever heard of a Talon?" The name sounded familiar, but he didn’t have the chance to really think about it before Nightwing continued. "Nearly immortal assassins. They carry out the Court's bidding until they're discarded… Made from human children stolen by the fae as we recently found out."
"And I’m sure the Bat is thrilled at that revelation."
“The problem is, he can’t stop them.” Nightwing nodded with a grave expression. "As their guest, he can’t directly plot against them. All those children-"
"That sounds more like the Bat's problem than mine."
Slade turned to leave, but was stopped when Nightwing grabbed his wrist.
“I’d say I can’t believe how heartless you are, but you know I can’t lie.”
“Is this your last ditch attempt to appeal to my emotions?”
“No, emotions have never been your strong suit, have they?” Nightwing smirked, sharp and dangerous. For a moment, his glamor slipped, allowing his ears and teeth to come to sharp points. His eyes glowed an unnaturally bright blue and his skin danced with swirling patterns of blue light. “I’m sure Joey and Rose would tell you as much if they could bear to look at you.”
“Your negotiation skills leave much to be desired,” Slade tried to pull his wrist away, but Nightwing’s grip was not so easily broken. Not that it was impossible. Fae or not, Slade had far more strength than the vigilante. “Normally you don’t insult the person you want to kill your enemies for you.”
“It gets your attention, doesn't it?" Nightwing huffed. As he let out a breath, he once again looked like any other human. Beautiful, always, but not to the same extent as his true form. "Besides, no one ever said anything about killing.”
Slade raised an eyebrow.
“It would be incredibly poor manners to allow your son to directly plot against your host. If I asked you to kill someone, it would be treated just the same as if Batman himself did it. If I simply asked you to protect them however…”
“These damn rules of yours,” Slade crossed his arms, finally ridding himself of Nightwing’s grasp, with half a mind to try walking out again. Getting involved in fae politics sounded like the last thing he wanted to do… Still, beneath the jab from earlier, he saw something else lurking beneath the surface of Nightwing’s gaze. Desperation. “So if I happen to go rogue, that’s indirect enough to not get daddy bats punished?”
“That’s the hope.”
“Kid, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more blatant attempt on my life than this.”
“You know I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t think you could do it.”
“And what, exactly, is in it for me?”
“Is knowledge of a job well done not payment enough?”
“All the money in the world isn’t payment enough.”
“Then what about my name?”
Slade froze. He searched Nightwing for any indication that he was joking (impossible) or simply that he’d misheard (his hearing was impeccable). All he saw was that same desperation, hidden only slightly by determination. A smirk slowly creeped across his face.
“You really think you’re worth the trouble that would come from angering a court of ancient fae?”
“It’s not about what I think,” To his credit, Nightwing managed to keep his voice steady. He forced himself to look at Slade as he spoke. “It’s about what you think.”
“One life for an entire court is hardly a fair exchange.”
“Neither of our kind have ever been about fair exchanges, Slade,” Slade narrowed his eye. He could feel the power of his name when Nightwing wielded it. A reminder of just how fucked he might have been had the fae not found himself so aligned with humans. But also, just how much power he could hold over Nightwing. “But you’re looking at it the wrong way. It’s not a life for a court, it’s having a fae- having me in your debt just for protecting people who can already protect themselves. I know that’s tempting to you.”
“And what if it’s not tempting enough?”
“Then,” He hesitated for a fraction of a second. Most may not have noticed, but Slade was more observant, especially when it came to Nightwing and his habits. He wasn’t wrong that it was tempting, though, so was playing with his food. “I’ll find another way to save them.”
“Another mercenary?”
“Jealous?”
“You’re too full of yourself.”
“And you’re dancing around my offer,” Nightwing held out his hand. His veins had a faint blue glow to them that went all the way down his arm. “Do we have a deal or not?”
“Not until you state the full terms.”
Nightwing rolled his eyes as if this wasn’t his bread and butter. Yes, he was more human than most fae, but he was damn clever. In no world would Slade accept a deal from a fae without first hearing the terms stated plainly. “You are to protect my family in Gotham from threats they can’t fight back against using… whatever methods you see fit. Once the job is complete, I will give you my name as payment. Are those terms acceptable?”
Slade thought for a moment. He parsed each word in his mind, searching for as many loopholes as he could find. “Your true name.”
“What?”
“I’m not an idiot, boy, my payment is your true name, not just any that belongs to you.”
Nightwing grimaced but reluctantly nodded. “Yes, you will get my true name as compensation.”
“Very good,” Slade took his hand, immediately feeling a swell of power. It felt like heat, like a cool breeze, like a an animal begging to be let out of its cage. It reached into him and settled inside his bones. It felt invasive, but welcomed. It settled in like a missing piece of the puzzle. “We have a deal.”