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Slade glanced through his binoculars.
His little bird danced across the rooftop, flipping midair before landing on his feet. He bowed to an invisible audience.
Then he must have heard a noise, because his little bird dashed forward, shot a line, and disappeared into an alleyway.
Perfect.
Slade moved one rooftop closer.
He watched as his little bird took out some would-be muggers, left them tied up beneath the light of a lamppost, and disappeared back into the darkness of the alley.
Alone. Vulnerable.
Slade made his move.
He descended from the sky. Before Dick could react, Slade had him pinned against the wall by his neck. Dick’s hands came automatically to Slade’s wrist, trying to relieve the pressure.
There was no give, of course. Slade wasn’t superhuman for nothing.
“Little bird,” he purred, leaning closer.
He’d waited for this for so long.
“What do you want, Slade?” Dick choked out.
Ah. It was so nice to hear his name from his lips. That should be the only thing his bird ever said.
“I’m here to take you,” Slade said, pressing closer.
“I’ve wanted you for so long. And now you’re mine. I’ll take you home. Keep you locked up. Chain your limbs. Till all you can think about, all you would ever need, is me.”
Slade was gleeful just thinking about it. Their wonderful future. He has everything prepared already. Bunkers scattered throughout the world for them, just in case they wanted to travel. He’s spent months making sure everything was perfect for his bird.
The bird’s face was turning red. It was a lovely color on him. Slade could almost imagine it was from a blush instead of the lack of air.
“Ah-a—“
His bird seemed to want to say something. He tapped twice against Slade’s hand. Slade released his grip. Ah. Slade should be a bit gentler. His bird almost got strangled three days. It took everything in Slade to not jump in and kill the man for touching his bird. That would have ruined the plan.
Dick collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, one hand wrapped around his throat where a beautiful bruise would definitely be tomorrow.
Slade couldn’t wait to see it. To trace it with his hand. To recreate the necklace every evening.
Dick composed himself, drawing in one final deep breath.
Slade braced himself, ready for a fight.
“You’re kidnapping me?”
The bird seemed much more composed than Slade expected him to be.
Kidnapping was such a crude way to put it. Slade preferred acquiring. Reclaiming. Taking what was his.
“In a sense,” he answered.
Dick seemed to consider something.
Then—
“Okay.”
Slade blinked.
He’d imagined that part countless times. Dick would fight until he couldn’t. Slade would have to overpower him. Then he would spit insults at Slade while Slade calmed him down gently, whispering in his ears how his life would be better with him. Eventually, exhaustion would win.
That was how this was supposed to work.
The bird shifted from his crouch into a kneel, sitting back on his heels. He raised his arms, palms turned inward. An offer.
“What?”
“Okay.”
He shoved his wrists forward.
“Let’s go.”
Slade withdrew the rope from his belt. He tied the bird’s wrists exactly as he’d imagined doing thousands of times before. Snug. Secure.
He left a tail on the end for him to hold.
The bird stayed passive the whole time. He kept his wrists in place, not resisting when Slade repositioned them for easier tying.
“Oh, hold on. Almost forgot,” the bird said.
He tugged against the leash and reached for—
Slade pulled.
The phone flew out of the bird’s hands. Slade caught it. That was more like it. His bird could be sneakier than that, though.
“Slaaade,” the bird whined.
“I need to make a call. Tell people not to look for me.”
What the hell?
The bird sounded serious. Slade had planned to fake his death. This would be a lot easier. He handed the phone back, suspiciously.
The bird received it with his hands still bound and dialed a number. It went to voicemail, which seemed to be exactly what he expected.
“Hey, Babs! I know we’re not on speaking terms right now, but I thought I should let someone know. I’m going dark for a while. No need to worry. Don’t look for me. Tell everyone else, if they care. Bye. Love you.”
He hung up and offered the phone to Slade. Slade took it. Then crushed it. The bird pouted.
“Hey. I had my high score on Candy Crush on that.”
“I’ll get you a new one,” Slade comforted him.
One with a better camera, a sturdier case, and games already installed. One without access to the internet, no location services Dick could disable, no emergency calls to anyone except Slade. Slade would make sure of that. It would be safer. His bird would like it.
“Wow. Best kidnapper ever,” Dick said.
Slade laughed.
Yeah. This was why he liked his little bird. He couldn’t wait for their future together. Slade pulled out a syringe and, without further warning, stabbed it into the bird’s neck.
Dick’s hands jerked up instinctively to defend himself, but Slade’s hold on the rope didn’t let him.
“Seriously?”
It was all his bird managed before his body went limp. Slade caught him before he could fall, tossing the bird over his shoulder. He made his way to his hidden car.
This hadn’t gone quite as planned. But Slade couldn’t say he was upset by the outcome.
.
.
.
Dick woke up as Slade was closing the bunker door behind him.
A bit sooner than expected, but no matter.
He looked around curiously as Slade slid the last lock into place, finishing by engaging the taser that would stop anyone other than Slade from unlocking it.
He couldn’t be too careful. His little bird was notoriously slippery.
“So, this is where I live now?” Dick asked conversationally.
“Yes.”
Slade looked around. This bunker had taken months to prepare to perfection. Steel-padded walls. Floors. Ceilings. No way to escape except through the front door. Buried deep enough underground that no one would hear his bird scream.
He was planning on moving to somewhere nicer, out in the countryside, where his bird could see the sky once Slade knew he could behave. But for now, the bunker was perfect.
Anchors littered the place, some with cuffs and chains already attached. There was one near the dining table, where Slade could keep his bird by his feet while he fed him. One in the office, beside Slade’s desk, so the bird could keep him company while he worked. One on the bed, in the one bedroom, so Slade could hold his bird while he slept.
Slade had thought this out very thoroughly.
“Eh. Could do with more natural lighting.”
“Noted.”
Maybe Slade could move his bird to the country house sooner. A bird deserved the sky, after all.
“Could you?”
Dick gestured to his bound wrists.
“The ropes are chafing.”
Slade undid the ropes. They weren’t really needed here anyway. There was no way to escape. Especially not while Slade was watching.
“Thanks.”
Dick rubbed his wrists. Then he beelined toward the bedroom. Slade followed behind, curious about what he was planning.
The bird sat down on the bed and let out a groan of relief.
“God damn, Slade. How much did you spend on this mattress? It feels like sitting on a cloud.”
“A couple thousand.”Only the best for his bird, after all.
“Woah.”
Dick took off his gloves and boots. He pulled the mask from his face and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He seemed to debate removing the rest of the uniform for a second. Then he shrugged and turned to lie down instead.
A pair of cuffs were attached to the headboard. He casually pulled them down and locked them around his wrists. Then he deftly pulled the blanket up and over himself with his feet.
“Okay, I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me if you need anything. Good night.”
Dick burrowed deeper into his blanket.
Slade watched.
He…wasn’t really sure what to do. He’d expected a lot more struggling. He’d expected to have to wrestle his bird into submission, to force his wrists above his head into the waiting cuffs. Slade felt a little off balance from how little resistance there was.
But he watched as the kid’s breathing evened out, becoming deeper. The action was manual, not natural. Not quite asleep yet.
Just trying.
A couple of minutes later, his bird groaned. He tried to sit up, but the chains around his wrists were a little too short for him to manage it.
“Slade!”
He called for him. A sweet noise. Slade went. Because his bird called for him.
“Could you join me? I can’t sleep.”
Dick shifted beneath the blanket.
“And you’re warm.”
Well. How could he say no to that?
Slade stripped off the harder pieces of his armor that would poke uncomfortably. Then he slid beneath the covers, tucking them more securely around his bird.
Dick rolled closer, snuggling against Slade’s side as much as the chain allowed. Slade made a mental note to make it longer, so his bird could cuddle closer more easily.
Slade wrapped an arm around his bird. His head settled on Slade’s shoulder. Soon, his breathing evened out.
Deep. Natural this time. Asleep.
Slade looked at his bird’s sleeping face. Eyes closed. Lips parted slightly.
Yes.
Not how he’d expected this to happen. But not a bad outcome at all.
.
.
.
Slade was in heaven. His life was so, so, so perfect right now.
Dick Grayson. His little bird. The man he’d wanted for years. Was his.
Slade watched Dick as he napped. The adrenaline of finally getting what he wanted sang a little too loudly through his veins for sleep. When Dick woke up—and Slade could tell by the hitch in his breath—he snuggled in closer.
Slade reluctantly rolled him around.
“Up now, little bird. We have things to do still.”
Dick groaned but didn’t protest.
Slade pulled the keys from his belt and unlocked the chain connecting the cuffs around Dick’s wrists to the bed.
He pulled Dick up by the chain.
And what a beautiful picture he made like that. Hair messed up from sleep. Eyes still half-closed. Wrists tied together in Slade’s control.
Completely isolated. Defenseless. His to do with as he pleased. Seeing the bird go deadweight, Slade laughed.
“Or we could do it here,” he offered.
Dick hummed.
Slade rolled Dick over so that he was lying on his stomach. Dick went pliantly, his bound wrists becoming trapped beneath his body. Slade pulled out another prepared syringe he’d left by the bedside when he’d taken off his armor earlier.
He pulled Dick’s hair up, exposing his nape.
“What’s that?” Dick asked, eyeing the syringe.
“Nanobots. They’ll let me monitor your vitals and track your location.”
“Oh. Convenient.”
“You’re not scared?”
Dick hummed again.
With one quick motion, Slade injected the syringe. Dick startled on instinct but kept himself still. When Slade pulled the syringe out, he brushed a thumb over the wound, wiping away the bead of blood.
“It’s done?”
“Yes, little bird.”
Dick sighed.
“Good. Can I go back to sleep now?”
“No, birdie. Dinner.”
As if right on cue, Dick’s stomach growled.
His ears turned red.
“Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”
Slade guided Dick through the bunker by the chain attached to his wrists.
Exactly like he’d imagined.
He linked the chain to the anchor installed by the dining room table.
Exactly like he’d imagined.
Dick looked up at him from the floor with big blue eyes, kneeling, wrists resting in his lap.
Even better than he’d imagined.
Slade pulled out one of the frozen meals he’d prepared beforehand and stuck it in the microwave.
He couldn’t wait for the beep. He had a bird waiting for him. When it finally beeped, Slade grabbed one set of utensils and sat down.
He stepped on the chain, adding tension that made Dick shuffle closer on his knees until he was between Slade’s legs.
“Are you going to feed me?” Dick raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“You know, I have hands.”
“They’re busy.”
Dick looked at the chains.
“I guess they are.”
Slade cut off a piece of meat and brought it to Dick’s mouth.
Dick leaned forward to take it, humming lightly in delight.
“This is really good! Did you make this?”
“No. I hired someone.”
Slade didn’t have time to cook. He’d been busy preparing to reclaim his bird.
“Give them my compliments.”
“I’ll be sure to let them know.”
Slade brought another bite down to Dick, who took it eagerly. Slade made a mental note to rehire the chef.
They finished the meal.
Slade disconnected the chain from the dining room anchor and brought Dick to the living room anchor.
Slade settled onto the couch.
“Come.”
Slade patted the seat next to him. Dick sat. Then tucked his feet beneath himself. Then he was sideways, his head resting on Slade’s lap.
This was beyond what Slade had expected.
He’d planned for this, eventually. But he hadn’t expected Dick to willingly put his head in his lap until at least month two. Slade’s entire schedule could be moved up at this point. They could probably move to the country house within the month.
Wonderful.
Slade’s hand landed in Dick’s hair.
There was a small flinch. But nothing else.
With his other hand, Slade clicked the remote. He put on some brainless movie and settled in to enjoy the warm weight in his lap.
Wonderful. Too wonderful.
As the movie finished, Dick has not moved. He’s shifted a couple times, switched to his back, his side. Tucked his legs, untucked his legs, but he has made no moves to leave Slade.
This was everything he wanted.
He grabbed Dick’s bound wrists and raised them, pulling Dick onto his back.
“Slade? I was comfortable,” his bird complained with a pout.
Slade pinned him to the couch with one hand. He leaned over Dick, legs straddling his hips as he admired his bird.
Dick’s heart was pounding. But he remained still. Slade’s eyes traveled over him. His bird truly was a work of art. His gaze settled on Dick’s face.
Eyes narrowed slightly. Mouth tense in a fine line. But visibly trying to force more ease into his posture.
Why?
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you not resisting?”
Dick blinked.
“Isn’t that a good thing for you?”
“What game are you playing, Grayson?”
“There’s no game, Slade.”
Slade brought his other hand to Dick’s throat.
He squeezed.
Dick’s eyes went wide.
“There really is no game,” Dick managed. “I—I want to be here.”
Liar.
Slade had prepared for this day for years. He knew his bird valued freedom over anything else. There was no way he was telling Slade everything he wanted to hear.
“Slade. Please. I’m—tired. Okay?”
His voice shook.
“Let. Go.”
Slade let go. Dick sat up, gasping for breath. Then he looked at Slade. And laid back down.
“I’m tired,” he repeated, looking off to the side.
His bound wrists tucked against his chest, as if to comfort himself.
“Everything is a mess. It’s all my fault.”
He swallowed.
“I just…”
His voice broke.
“I don’t want to exist anymore.”
Dick smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile.
“I was going to jump off a roof tonight, when you found me. I was thinking, one more thug, then I can rest.”
He looked at Slade.
“End it all.”
A shaky breath.
“This seemed like a better retirement plan.”
He steeled his shoulders. Then slowly untucked his wrists from his chest and leaned his head onto Slade’s lap once more.
He was trembling.
“Don’t make me regret it, okay?”
“Little bird,” Slade said, breathless.
He pulled Dick up by the shoulders. He arranged him so Dick’s head rested against his shoulder, his arms wrapping around him, keeping him close, tucking him in.
“You’re mine now.”
Slade’s voice was soft. His blood was singing. His bird didn’t want his life anymore. He’s throwing it away. And Slade. Slade would happily take it.
“You will never need to worry about anything except me again. I’ll keep you here. I’ll give you everything you need.”
Slade pulled his bird closer.
To think. If he’d waited, he might have lost him. Forever. But now. His bird was his. Forever. Slade would take care of him. Much better then death could.
Dick’s trembling had not stopped.
“You won’t need to think about where you go, who you see, what you eat, what you do. Whether you’re safe.”
His arms tightened around Dick.
“I’ll take care of all of it.”
Dick clung to him. Freedom had nearly killed his bird. Slade wouldn’t allow that mistake again.
“You’re mine.”
Dick pressed his face into Slade’s chest.
“Okay.”
“Say it.”
Dick was quiet.
Then he smiled. It was a small, sad thing. But it was for him.
“I’m yours.”