Archive of Our Own

The video started playing as the hero waved goodbye to the two detectives and entered the room. Nightwing sighed and sat down across from the man chained to the table. He took off his mask and set it down, sighing before he spoke. His demeanor was strange. He was not happy-go-lucky or a sassy ass like usual. Instead, he was reserved and meek. Almost like a disobedient child as he sank into himself, mumbling.

 

"Slade, what are you doing here?"

 

Deathstroke stares at him with coldness. He lifts his hand as much as possible in his bindings and reaches across the table. The younger man looks at him expectantly and leans forward. His movement was resigned. Like he knew from the beginning what the killer wanted, and he dreaded it.

 

Deathstroke is holding his face in his hand. Not in a manner to arouse fear or caution, but not exactly tender. It was authoritative. There was no room for the man to protest as he allowed the criminal to caress his face and stare into his eyes. Their shared look was brief but unnerving. For a brief moment, Nightwing appeared seconds away from jumping out of his seat and bolting.

 

"Little bird."

 

As the nickname left his lips, Nightwing stiffened. He was uncomfortable now, but didn't move or interrupt. "You're not so small anymore. Are you?"

 

Nightwing said nothing. From the view of the cameras, he appeared to be gripping his knees. He clenched them with a neutral expression on his face as the man continued to touch him. It was clear. Deathstroke was examining the hero. Seeing what had changed since their last meeting. What he could critique. The hero was the killer's to judge, and the man just accepted it as if it were normal. Like this was their routine.

 

"Slade–" The younger man spoke again only to be shushed with a harsh look.

 

It was as if the hero were a child again, the way he bit his tongue and shuddered. One would have to wonder what the relationship between the two was in the past to elicit such a powerful response. Nightwing still wasn't running off. He wasn't cursing or attacking the killer. He instead moved closer, pressing his entire middle against the table so they were breathing onto each other's faces. The hand remained and the younger man cowered.

 

"Master. Why are you here?"

 

Deathstroke pressed a thumb against the man's lip and it looked for a moment as if Nightwing was going to swallow it. He stopped himself. His eyes became wide and his breathing finally showed the panic that must have been flooding through his head as he heaved. There was a war going on inside the man, and Deathstroke was still as cold as ice. Composed, he rubbed the thumb over the man's lip with genuine softness.

 

To see someone as evil as Deathstroke show care was sickening. But Nightwing accepted it despite how overwhelmed he was. His head tilted briefly and his chest began to resume its normal pattern of rising as he relaxed. The two were in their own world now, not some dirty police interrogation room. The killer lifted the man's chin and gave him a small but revolting chuckle.

 

"Is it out of character to visit my child?"

 

The younger man blinked owlishly, and a faint smile appeared on his face. "I'm not a little boy anymore, master."

 

Deathstroke's gaze darkened, and he smiled. He was pleased. "That's right, Richard. You're more than that, now."  

 

Nightwing leaned upward, pressing his lips to the man's cheek in a deplorable act. It was incredibly out of character and only seemed to amuse the mercenary who grinned. The older man had clearly won something. A secret debate between the two as he allowed the hero to press himself into his skin and inhale. A hand brushed the younger man's man and pet it, like you would for a cute little puppy you just got.

 

Deathstroke pressed his forehead against Nightwing's and the man audibly groaned. He melted, turning into putty as the two finished the discussion in hushed whispers. By the end, the hero was flushed, his subdued energy replaced by that of utter adoration that was manic in its nature. Deathstroke gave up the information on the contract he had and bid the man goodbye. Hours later, Deathstroke's cell would be found empty and the video would reportedly be wiped.