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Slade looks like a ghost. A hollowed out shell.
Dark eye bags held down his dull blue eye. His messy white hair sat on top of his head like a mop. It’s a little sweaty. A little oily. He has stubble on his face that he would’ve usually shaved off by now.
The bandage on his eye almost blended into his unusually pale skin.
Slade isn’t some kind of man-child. He can take care of himself.
But right now, with his eye drifting off into space and his finger oddly twitching as he zoned out, William was having his doubts. He ran his fingers through his own brown hair, giving Slade a look from the corner of his eye. He was sat at Wintergreen’s couch in front of a small table, a glass of whiskey in front of him. Wintergreen gave Slade some of his own clothes. A soft black sweater and some slacks. Slade didn’t seem to care for how lavish it was. His focus was on a wall.
It wasn’t all that shocking that Slade’s mind was elsewhere. He was just discharged from the hospital.
Occasionally, Wintergreen will wonder if Slade is too attached to him. He doesn’t talk to anyone except for him, really. He did of course talk to Adeline, Joseph, Grant and even on occasion, Isherwood, but in his day to day? It was always him. Adeline got two phone calls a week, while Wintergreen got updates through coms about contracts, late night chats about whatever the topic was then, occasional chatter while they hunted and more.
He tries to encourage Slade to visit them more often but… is it really so bad that Slade relies on him mentally? He knows Slade has some issues, some past experiences that nag his brain. Wintergreen seriously doubts that Slade confines in anyone but him. Hell, even when he does visit his family, 100% of the time he’ll at least ask for him to go with him. Wintergreen has obliged 80% of the time.
They don’t spend many full days apart from one another.
So, if his mere presence makes Slade feel better, is that really such a bad thing? Is he not making Slade’s psyche better by staying with him?
William leaned back against the cushions of his couch. The fireplace crackled softly in the background.
“Slade,” Wintergreen said, a tad bit hushed.
“Mm?” Slade let out, his eye still glued to the wall.
“Want anything to eat?” It’s been around 5 hours since he’s seen him swallow anything but protein sludge or alcohol.
“You’re not my wife,” Slade muttered, a hint of disdain in his tone.
Wintergreen raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his own whiskey. “You’ve cooked for me before. Does that make you my wife?”
Slade grunted in response.
Okay. Maybe a joke like that was too soon.
“Want me to change your bandage? That hospital used cheap material.”
“Stop. Stop trying to—” Slade finally turned around to face him, a minor glare in his eye. A mournful frown was stuck in place on his lips. “I don’t need to be taken care of.”
Wintergreen was doubting that.
He breathed calmly through his nose. That’s fine, if Slade wants to wither away into a pile of ash instead of getting out of his own head, he’ll just pick up the pieces.
Adeline and Wintergreen were close. Well, definitely not as close as him and Slade, but William regarded her as a friend. An ally. He definitely respected her. That wouldn’t stop him from going after her, though, if that’s what Sade wanted. Like he said, he would need supplies. They would need to watch them for a bit, plan and calculate.
Shooting out his eye wasn’t something Wintergreen ever thought Adeline would do.
Well— he knew she was capable. It was an objective fact. Perhaps he just didn’t expect something so drastic in response to…
“Would you like to go hunting?” Wintergreen asked. “Get some practice in for your eye?”
“Huh…” Slade blinked a bit slowly, his gaze casting downward. “I… sure. Sure. In these woods?” He asked, referring to the small bit of forest that surrounded William’s home.
“No,” Wintergreen smiled. “The only animal you’d find in there are some squirrels. You know that.”
“Right. Then… past the courthouse? East?”
“Yes.”
Dressed in camo hunting gear, Slade looked more normal. More like a shellshocked soldier and less like a mental institution patient. It was definitely easier on the eyes. The bandage seemed absurdly out of place, however. Wintergreen definitely still hasn’t gotten used to seeing him with a single eye.
He was strapping his belt into place with the same practiced efficiency he did as a soldier, and then as Deathstroke.
Violence was a constant in a soldier’s life. More so in Slade’s than in your average Military recruit’s. Perhaps, just like Wintergreen’s presence, the familiar surroundings could bring comfort to him somehow, maybe slap him out of this stupor he was in.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do with your eye?” William inquired, stepping close to his old friend and leaning up against the wall after getting ready himself.
“Mm. Maybe a glass eye,” Slade murmured, looking up at him. “But then again, it’d probably make me look like a creepy ass doll or something…”
Wintergreen shrugged and stood up straight, taking a step behind Slade. He heard a small hitch in his breath as he leaned in close to speak lowly in his ear, “An eyepatch would do you nicely. Why hide it?”
“You seriously still want to…”
“We’ve kissed before. No reason to stop doing so now,” William said, running his hands over Slade’s shoulders. The hunting garb was coarse under his palms. He has yet to put on gloves.
“I guess.”
Wintergreen smoothed the palm of his hand upward to cup the back of Slade’s neck. His friend stiffened for a moment before he relaxed and looked back at him, angling his body in a way that made it easy for Slade to be pulled into him by the slight grip of his neck.
“I want to get back to work,” Slade said as they were a mere two inches apart. He could feel his breath on his skin.
“Like this, you’d shoot your own leg off. You’ll need to adjust to having one eye first,” William responded as his thumb absentmindedly went up and down on Slade’s neck, tickling the hairs on it gently.
“I think I’m pretty damn adjusted.”
“We’ll see when you fumble your first shot at a deer.”
His eyes fluttered shut. Slade’s lips were chapped against his own. His open mouth brought soft wetness to make up for it. However, it was immediately contrasted by the rough stubble on his face, grating against Wintergreen’s skin lightly. It was gentle and tired. Wintergreen is just surprised that he actually let him kiss him so soon after getting shot by Adeline.
He let out a small sigh into Slade’s warm mouth, their tongues sliding against each other. Slade will want to shut down all affection once it really sets in that he just lost his entire family. William will get the affection back after this, of course, but perhaps he feels the need to get one last taste before god knows how long of Slade… being Slade.
Slade tasted only of whiskey. Wintergreen would bet that he tasted the same. It was sweet, bitter. Intoxicating. Despite his obvious vengeful mourning, Slade was leaning into him. His hand closed around Wintergreen’s forearm, clutching him like he’s the last thing he has. Besides Deathstroke, he probably is.
He felt a small bit of drool running down his mouth as their tongues glided together. Perhaps it was Slade’s. Perhaps it was his.
Either way, he found himself pulling back, breathing in a bit deeply, looking at Slade with half lidded eyes.
He looked like the same young soldier he met years ago, albeit a bit more depressed.
“I should make you target practice,” Slade joked dryly.
“What for?”
“You got drool on me. And you’re concerningly loyal.”
“Ah, Slade. You should know by now I’m only with you for all the money contracts give us.”
Slade huffed and backed away, his grip on him disappearing. “You wish,” he muttered.