Chapter Text
“Another dead end,” Jason grumbles, flicking the end of his cigarette to the ground and rubbing it out under his boot.
“We figured it would be going in,” Slade reminds him. As much as they were hoping for something more, it was a shot in the dark and they both knew it. They'll just have to try something else. Again.
“I know,” Jason scoffs curtly. “I was still expecting something. They were a credible source, there was-” Slade stops listening which is good because Jason stops talking. Something’s wrong.
He has his sword out in a second, blade brandished out to protect Jason from the incoming blow. Slade feels the sheer force in his palms as the electrified escrima stick collides with his blade at full speed, severing itself on his sword. Half of it rockets off down the alley, the hallow sound of it bouncing against concrete echoing between the buildings. Jason turns slow, a stunned look to his face.
“So you are quick.”
Richard Grayson aka Talon aka Jason's older brother.
Dick tosses down the other half of his stick and promptly reaches back to retrieve his spare, twirling both sticks in his hands as he smiles. This isn't good. They've been working hard to make sure Dick, nor his father, knew Jason was alive. When and how they slipped up is a question for later at the moment.
“Come on, it's time to come home, Jason,” Dick says. Jason instinctively takes a step back and Slade moves better to defend him. They weren't prepared for this fight and honestly, Slade isn't confident in how it's going to go. Dick frowns.
“We’re gonna be like that?” he asks, sounding disappointed. “Well, either you can come home-” he points a stick at Jason. “Or I can kill your little playmate.” He points both of them at Slade with a smile. “Again and again and again and again.”
Slade doesn't exactly like the idea of finding out how many creative ways Dick can murder him.
He moves first, it's really the only way to get any kind of advantage on Talon and even then, it's miniscule. Dick ducks out of the way in the same instant, quickly retaliating by landing two solid blows against Slade’s shoulders. This isn't going to go well. Dick is fast and the sheer force of his blows make it clear exactly how much he wants Slade dead. His escrima sticks aren't intended to be lethal but one bad blow and Slade knows he'll be paralyzed, if not straight unconscious, for Dick to do with as he wants.
Jason doesn't stand idly by, of course. He fires off a shot but unsurprisingly, Dick moves out of the way. The tight quarters of the alley don't do either of them any favours; Slade’s sword is too long and Jason is too close- Dick is too mobile. Jason doesn't actually want to hurt his brother, either, and the extra time it takes to line up a nonfatal shot, even if it's barely a half second more, is more than enough time for Dick to respond. If he can help it, Slade doesn't want to hurt him either but if he has to choose between Jason and Dick, he's picking Jason.
Not that it matters when Dick is thoroughly beating the shit out of them. He knocks Jason's guns away sooner than later and by the audible crack Slade hears, he's certain one of Jason's hands is broken. Fortunately, Dick is refraining from injuring Jason sustainably as well, even if that's only because Owlman would be pissed otherwise.
Slade loses grip of his sword from a series of relentless strikes. Jason tries to intervene, tries to give him a chance to react, but Dick cracks him so hard in the head, Jason loses balance. He swipes at Slade’s forearm suddenly, sending his sword flying, and from there, he's on Slade in a second. Slade grabs his sticks, knowing it's a poor idea with bare hands but not having much of a choice. The shock hurts but he's a little tougher than most people and he bares through it enough to wrestle Dick's escrima sticks out of his hands.
Dick almost seems impressed. It doesn't last long, of course, as he immediately kicks off a wall and puts Slade on the ground with a solid kick to the jaw. He locks his arm around Slade’s neck, leveraging his grip with the other arm and cutting off his air immediately. Slade grabs to try to loosen it but Dick is steadfast. He's always stronger than he looks.
“Ready to go home, little wing?” Dick asks. Jason reaches for Slade’s sword. “I was hoping not.”
A broken neck is not instantaneous, not really. Slade is fully aware of the sudden, jarring motion Dick makes that twists one of his cervical vertebrae violently out of place. He hears the connecting tissue and the veritable ‘snap’ they make twice as loud. He feels the sudden absence of his own body as his nerves are cut off.
He feels his heart stop.
Slade comes to fairly quickly. The second he's alive again, he remembers what was happening. His body takes a second longer to respond before he's forcing his eyes open and his body off the ground. He's still in the alley, it's still cold.
Jason's still here.
“Slade?” Jason asks, distinctly out of breath. “You ‘ight buddy?” Slade stumbles to his feet and regains his composure again. Aside from some obvious bruising, Jason is fine and Dick is thoroughly handcuffed on the ground. That won't hold him forever but he seems dazed at the moment and knowing Jason, those cuffs won't be picked from the angle Dick has on them.
“Fine,” Slade assures. “Good work.” Jason nods curtly.
“Someone finally taught you how to fight dirty,” Dick says in amusement. He shifts in his cuffs, managing to push himself up into a sitting position. “We've been trying to teach you that for years.”
“Red,” Slade says firmly. “Let's go.” Jason doesn't move.
“I can't,” he says. “I can't let him go back to Owlman. ‘specially now that he's failed.” As much as Slade hates it, he saw this coming. Jason still loves his brother even if Dick lives up to his name. He thinks Dick is a victim and maybe he is but he's a victim that fully wants Slade dead and would drag Jason kicking and screaming back home. Maybe Dick loves Jason somewhere under all that twisted, violent exterior too but he's not an ally.
“Are you sure?” Slade confirms. Jason gives him an unamused look. “Just making sure. Fine. What do you want to do?”
“Aw, little brother doesn't want me to get in trouble,” Dick purrs teasingly. “How sweet.”
“I don't know,” Jason admits. “We can't risk him gettin’ free close to us. I've disabled his gear but if he catches us off guard or calls Bruce, we're sittin’ ducks.” If Owlman finds them, they're dead in the water. The fact that Dick found them already isn't good and preludes to his mentor not being far behind.
“We need to move,” Slade says.
“I won't get in trouble if you just come home, you know,” Dick assures in a tone that is much too sincere and much too fond- like he's actually trying to encourage Jason to do the right thing. Slade isn't sure what Owlman would do to Jason if he came back and he doesn't want to find out.
He crouches down to Dick's level and Dick gives him a curious look like he's not sure what he's doing. Slade withdraws his phone from his pocket and shines the light in Dick's face. He doesn't even flinch.
“His pupil is blown,” Slade says. “I think you gave him a concussion. We'll have to watch that.” Dick smiles at him, a charming thing like he's almost saying thank you.
“I see why Jay took a liking to you,” he assures. “A toy that doesn't stay broken.” Slade sees it happen but he doesn't have the room to move back far enough or his hands free to stop it. Dick suddenly has twisted his arms out in front of him, cuffs and all, and catches Slade’s neck in his arms again.
“Dick don't!” Jason shouts. Dick breaks his neck again.
This time when Slade revives again, he's at least propped up against a wall. Dick is even more tied up than he was last time and he actually looks unhappy about it. Jason has obviously earned a black eye for his effort. With his wrists cuffed and his arms zip tied strategically, Dick can't wriggle his arms out in front of him no matter how much he tries to pop his joints out of place with his hyperextension. His ankles are zip tied just in case, too.
“Shit, sorry Slade,” Jason murmurs when he sees Slade up and awake again. “Shoulda warned you he’s still a ass tied up.”
“Lesson learned,” Slade comments drly.
“Jason,” Dick says in a soft whine. “This actually really hurts. Could you loosen them?”
“No,” Jason replies. He knows better than anyone that giving his brother any leeway, physically or metaphorically, is a bad idea. Dick is a master manipulator and this is barely scratching the surface of it. This is a joke to him. If not for the fact that he worships the ground Owlman walks, he'd surely be able to even wrap him around his pretty fingers.
“Liar,” Slade says. Dick's expression of discomfort evaporates in an instant, changing to a mischievous grin as he tries to wriggle free again.
“I bet I could make you come by fucking your eye socket,” Dick purrs. An uncomfortable shudder goes down Slade’s back. He's not exactly the kind of guy to be made uneasy but Dick somehow manages it easily. There's something about him that's just so- wrong. “Jason probably already does. I bet he takes advantage of you while you're dead. Fucks your corpse to his heart's content?”
“Ignore him,” Jason murmurs, obviously more than a little uncomfortable himself. “He'll get bored.”
“We can't travel with him like this and we can't leave him anywhere. I'm sure the only reason he hasn't screamed bloody murder now is because he's still dressed like Talon,” Slade says and Jason nods in agreement. “We need to take him to Sionis. Until we figure out what to do with him, he needs to be sedated.”
“Kinky,” Dick muses.
“Yeah, good idea,” Jason agrees. “I can't believe I've taken my own brother hostage.”
“You better figure out your end goal for this soon,” Slade says. He picks Dick up, reluctantly really, and flings him over his shoulder where, hopefully, he can do the least damage. Dick almost immediately tries kneeing him in the genitals, fortunately not nearly balanced enough to succeed. He huffs mildly but, thankfully, doesn't squirm much after that.
They take the back alleys to avoid being seen too much. Around here, not many people take a second look at people like them if they know what's good for them. Slade and Jason don't talk much, don't touch much, far too aware of Dick listening and watching even while being carried like a deer carcass.
“If you hold me the other way, I can suck you off,” Dick offers. Slade continues to ignore him. It's hard sometimes. “You smell like blood.”
“Dick, shut up,” Jason says irritably.
“What? I just think it's not very fair, is all,” Dick urges. “I kill a couple guys that deserve it and I'm the bad guy but Slade kills his own son and you get down to worship his cock?” It's not even like Slade can do anything in return. Dick likes receiving pain almost as much as he likes dishing it out. There's no use in getting to him emotionally, either, Slade is pretty sure he's constructed entirely of violent sexual energy, sadism, and a want to please Owlman- and he's not even sure of the last one.
“I did it because of you, you know,” Dick says. Jason clenches his jaw. Slade can feel Dick's hot breath on his back, the way he tugs at Slade’s shirt with his teeth and grins. He's not even trying to escape, he's just being an asshole. “I killed him because he took you away from me. Broke his scrawny, white neck like a toothpick. I love the sound.”
“Shut up, kid,” Slade snaps. It doesn't exactly do much good. He doesn't understand why Jason even cares about Dick so much. They're not even blood related.
“Dad was so mad. He wanted to do it. He's wanted to do it for years,” Dick goes on with a purely sexual groan. “He broke my knee as punishment you know. It's never been the same.” Jason looks like he's going to be physically ill. “Still hurts when it rains. I think about you when it does.”
This is what Slade means. Even he can't tell if the waiver in Dick's voice is real, a quiet mourning of the brother he lost and how badly he wanted killing the Joker to bring him back only to be punished for it instead. Or if it's just another ploy to get Jason to feel guilty, for them to feel sorry for him, and let their guard down. He wants to think Dick has those kinds of feelings somewhere in him, hopes he does, but he's never shown proof of them.
“You can come home, little wing,” Dick says. “Dad stopped being mad a long time ago. He just wants to know you're okay. Everything can go back to how it was.”
That's the entire problem.
Slade swings Dick a little too hard as they round a corner, banging his head on a metal post and knocking him out. Hopefully. He's still breathing, anyways. Jason looks at him mildly.
“What? He likes the pain,” Slade assures. “He was pissing me off.”
“He already has a concussion,” Jason reminds him. Slade shrugs.
“Nothing we can do about it now,” he says.
“Don't kill him,” Jason says with a stressed sigh. Slade shrugs again.
Jason knocks as they arrive at Sionis’ latest penthouse. For as much as he moves around to keep Owlman off his tail, he can never seem to figure out how to go with something more discrete. Sionis’ assistant, and husband, answers the door. He blinks up at the two of them tiredly, obviously having been awoken, and stares. He doesn't look happy to see them but Slade has learned that's just how his face looks.
“Mr. Hood,” he says. “Mr. Wilson.”
“Good afternoon, Li,” Slade replies.
“It's almost one am,” Li says. “Mind telling me why you brought one of Owlmen’s ‘offspring’ to Sionis’ door? Are you trying to get us all killed?”
“I need a favor,” Jason replies. Li stares at them a moment long, exhales tiredly, and motions them in.
“Quickly before someone who shouldn't see, does,” he urges. They don't have to be told twice. “I hope he's properly secured. Have a seat. Roman! It's Red and Mr. Wilson!”
Slade more or less dumps Dick on the couch while Li wanders off towards the kitchen. It's obvious they woke the two of them up because Roman isn't even wearing his face when he comes out. Even now, it's strange to see him without his silicon mask on, the burned remains of his actual face hard to look at with feeling an empathetic sting in his own.
“Shit, what's good, baby,” Roman greets. “It's late, you- the fuck is that? Did you bring fuckin’ Talon into my goddamn home, Red?”
“He's-” Jason hesitates. Roman doesn't know he's one of Owlmen’s prodigies. It's probably best not to tell him, either. “An old friend. Very old. I need help.”
“Damn right ya do,” Roman murmurs and despite everything, he sits in the living room with the rest of them, easily within reach of Dick. He watches his unconscious body carefully, though, like he expects him to be able to attack in his sleep. Hopefully that's not something he can do. Li brings tea out.
“If he gets back to Owlman with my identity, and Slade’s identity, we're fucked,” Jason says. “We need him sedated for now.”
“Fa’ now?” Roman repeats. Li sits in his lap lazily, leaving them to help themselves to tea- which no one does. “How long we talkin’?” Slade gives Jason a look that says he'd like to know as well.
“Does it matter?” Jason asks irritably. His accent is always heavier around Roman. “Just long ‘nough for us to figure somethin’ else out. Couple days at least.” Roman makes a face at him- maybe? He doesn't really have face muscles but Slade is pretty sure he's trying.
“‘ight,” Roman says slowly. “Anythin’ fo’ you, Red. I know I done asked ya ta do worse shit fer me. Just know, ya keep ‘im on this shit fo’ too long ‘n he's gonna be facin’ some serious side effects. If ya like ya friend alive ‘n kickin’, figure somethin’ else out.”
“I will,” Jason assures. Roman leans in to kiss Li- or rather, lets Li kiss him considering his lack of lips at the moment.
“I'll go mix up a lil’ somethin’ fo’ ya,” Roman says, moving Li out of his lap. He hoists Dick over his shoulder and heads for a different room. At any rate, they know Roman is thorough and will keep Dick well sedated for as long as they ask. He doesn't care if Talon dies or not, he only cares how that would affect Jason.
Roman and Li have been good friends for years.
Li makes himself a cup of tea and gestures for them to do the same. They help themselves.
“Aw shit, bitch bit me!”
“I think Dick's awake,” Slade says. Jason lets out a stressed exhale. He sets his tea down and heads to help Sionis control his brother. Li looks at Slade.
“Ya fuckin’ cunt!”
“You know we'll have to move penthouses after this, right?” Li asks.
“I know,” Slade agrees. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“No need for apologies,” Li assures. A loud clattering comes from the other room. “My point is, Owlman likely has a way to track Talon. You disabled his gear but Owlman doesn't like losing his things. I would not be surprised if he has an embedded tracker.”
“Yeah, you may have a point,” Slade agrees. A crashing.
“I would take him to Crane. If Talon does have an internal tracker, he'll be able to remove it,” Li suggests. “I believe you and Red may be a little out of your depths with this one but I wish you luck with your ‘friend’.” Silence.
“Thanks,” Slade says. “We appreciate it.”
Roman drops Dick back on the couch and, fortunately, he looks properly sedated. He's still awake but he's untied and when he's dropped, he just sort of lays there. Even with his blown pupil, his eyes look for away and distracted. He looks at Slade a long time like he's thinking then he smiles, looks to Jason, around the room, then lazily rolls his head to the side and smiles at the floor. He's incredibly out of it. Good.
“That should do it,” Roman scoffs. There's a clear bite mark on his arm. He pulls a small bottle from his pocket, clearing his throat and forcing his thick Gotham accent back. “One dose every eight hours. This stuff’s potent, don't be OD’in’ him. This one-” he pulls a different bottle from his other pocket. “‘ll make sure he sleeps. One dose, one hour. Four doses, four hours. Eight doses, eight hours. Nine doses, forever. Get it?”
“We get the picture,” Slade assures. Roman hands the bottles to Li to be packed for them.
“Ten minutes ‘fore he wakes, give him the daytime one. Ten minutes before the daytime wears off, give ‘im the night one,” he instructs. “Once his body adjusts to it, he should be functionin’ on his own.”
“I ever tell you you're a genius?” Jason asks, watching as Li packs the two bottles with a syringe and a package of needles. Roman laughs.
“Don't just yet,” he replies. “This stuff sedates ‘im only ‘nough ta make sure you can handle ‘im. His aggression should be muted but if pressured, he'll still fight back. I ain't know how much that'll take so don't stress ‘im if you can manage.”
“We'll keep that in mind,” Slade promises. With Dick limp and his limbs unresponsive, it's hard to carry him over the shoulder without flinging his limbs all over the place. Dick laughs as Slade picks him back up, hoisting him onto his back like giving a child a piggy back ride. This, of course, immediately is a mistake. He kisses the back of Slade’s neck, right behind the ear, and lets out a low, sensual growl.
“Your neck is a lot prettier broken,” he purrs.
“Stop before I knock you out again,” Slade warns.
“Hypersexuality is- not a usual side effect but it should wear off,” Li assures.
“That's not a side effect, he's just like this,” Jason says.
“Ah,” Li replies. “Then you are on your own.”
“Thanks again, Mask,” Jason says and he offers his hand to Roman. They shake, briefly coming close to pat one another's back in a friendly, familiar farewell.
“Ain't a thang, baby,” Roman promises. “Stay safe with this Talon shit, ‘ight? Owlman’s a dangerous foe.” They know that all too well. Slade gives Roman a short nod which is returned politely and they take their leave. Staying in one place too long is far from a good idea now or ever.
Dick, fortunately, seems to be too out of it to continue to bother him at the moment. They stop in the lobby and Jason puts his jacket on Dick to at least slightly cover him. Being able to bend him nearly any direction without hurting him comes in handy.
“Li suggested we take him to Crane,” Slade informs. “Remove the tracker he undoubtedly has.”
“Alright,” Jason agrees and they move again. It's been a long night already but it's just starting. Slade watches Jason quietly for a moment, the perpensive look on his face. The walk from here is longer.
“What are you thinking?” Slade asks eventually. Dick's not unconscious but he's far from aware, like he's too high for his own good. It makes him easy to carry at least.
“That the only way out of this is by turning Dick against Bruce,” Jason says, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“You make it sound easy,” Slade replies. “How exactly do you plan on doing that?”
“I don't know,” Jason admits. “He's- I don't even know what to call it. Loyal? Content?”
“Brainwashed,” Slade offers. Jason exhales tiredly.
“I'm sure Bruce has done something bad enough to make Dick turn on him but if he has, he's buried it deep,” he says. “It won't be easy but if we can do it-” he trails off, glancing at Dick with regret.
“You don't think he'd join you, do you?” Slade asks. “He's more likely to go rogue if not full on go after Owlman himself. Red, there really might not be a way to get your brother ‘back’ from this.” Jason doesn't say anything. They walk in silence for a while.
Slade isn't sure what Jason sees in Dick, why an adoptive brother he barely knew is so important to him, and as much as he wants to help, he can only see this going poorly. Dick is dangerous and not likely to change his ways just for Jason. Even if, by some miraculous means, he did join them, he'd still be a cold blooded killer with a sadistic streak. What are they supposed to do with a guy like that?
Crane’s place is as unappealing as ever.
Again, Jason knocks. The eye slit slides open suddenly and then closed just as fast as it takes him to recognise them.
“It's me, Scarecrow,” Jason calls, rolling his eyes. “Open up.”
“And Talon,” Crane hisses back.
“He's sedated,” Slade assures. The eye slit opens again and Crane’s narrowed eyes peer out suspiciously. Slade turns to show him Dick, still dazed out on his back and unmoving. Even with a shake, he just sort of flops around limply. The slit closes. Slowly, the door opens and Crane cautiously looks around outside before practically yanking them in. He slams the door closed behind and locks all the locks. The frequency around this place should make it impossible to track Talon here. Hopefully.
“Sedated?” Crane repeats, curiously but cautiously moving to look at Dick. “With what?”
“Something Roman mixed up,” Jason says. Crane makes a face.
“You went to Black Mask and not me?” he scoffs. “I make the poisons. I fix the poisons.”
“I didn't want him poisoned,” Jason assures scathingly. Crane huffs again and his noise seems to alert Dick. Someone new is around and he's struggling to stay aware. He grins. “Can you scan him for a tracker?”
“Ooh, the doctor,” Dick purrs sluggishly. “Scaredy Crow. Boo.” While not particularly loud, Dick's suddenly jolt in his direction makes Crane bolt away from them in a panicked flurry. He's such a skittish guy, it really doesn't take much. He tries to catch his breath as Dick chortles. Slade irritably jerks him to try to silence him.
“He can't hurt you, Scares,” Jason says. “Right now, at least.” What would unsettle a normal person, calms Crane enough to recollect himself. He eyes them from across the room, Dick especially.
“Tracker?” he repeats. “An Owlman tracker? In him or his gear?”
“Possibly both,” Jason replies. Crane considers it nervously but with distinct interest. “Will you or not?”
“Fine,” Crane says curtly. He's far too curious to refuse. Hurriedly, and careful to keep his distance, he moves some stuff off a chair and motions Slade to put Dick in it. Dick stretches out minutely as he's set down but he doesn't try to go anywhere and, more importantly, doesn't try to attack anyone. He yawns.
Jason touches Slade’s arm, a small bit of comfort very briefly, and nods his head down the hall.
“I'm gonna make a call,” he explains. Here would be the place to do it. Slade nods and Jason walks off, leaving him to help Crane with Dick this time. Joy. He kicks some stuff off a stool, piling stuff onto different piles of stuff, and plops down on it beside Dick. Obviously he's ‘adjusting’ well because Slade can see the awareness coming back to his eyes- even if it's not for very long at a time.
Crane hesitates as he wanders back over with his device. He looks at Dick laying limp suspicious, like he's playing possum, and inches a little closer. There's no point in rushing him, annoyed as Slade is, it'll just make him move slower. When he's finally close enough to begin scanning and Dick doesn't jump at him, Crane goes to work. He checks the chest first, of course, where embedded trackers usually wind up- harder to lose a torso than limbs.
“Doctor Crane,” Dick hums. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Ignore him,” Slade assures. Crane certainly tries but by the way his hands shake more than usual, it's not working.
“Want to not be?” Dick says in a low, suggestive tone. “What's wrong? You’re shaking, Doctor Crane. Nervous?”
“No,” Crane bites back before he can think better of it. Any response with Dick is a bad response, unfortunately for him. Dick grins.
“You're not nervous of Owlman, Doctor Crane?” Dick asks. Crane jolts. “He'll find me, you know, track my movements here and find out what you know. You know what would be fun? Doping you up on your own fear toxin and watching what little mind you've regained flutter into nothingness again. It would be so hot-”
Slade reaches to cover Dick's mouth with his hand. Consciously or otherwise, Crane lets out a relieved exhale and hurriedly quickens his work. The sedative is definitely working since under normal circumstances, Dick would be trying to bite a chunk out of him by now. Instead, he pushes his tongue into Slade’s palm, traces the creases with the tip. It keeps him silent and distracted while Crane works, though, so Slade bares through it.
“There's something in his knee,” Crane finally says.
He broke my knee.
Knowing Owlman, he'd want to be the one to do the surgery to repair it, too. The perfect time to quietly implant a tracker. That suggests Dick doesn't know it's there which remains to be seen. It's entirely possible Dick is not only aware of its existence but had agreed to it. Slade is curious as to why Owlman hasn't hunted them down yet. Turning Dick's gear off should have been a red alarm.
Slade wants to hope that Dick really does care for Jason in some twisted way, that he figured out how to turn off his tracker so Owlman couldn't follow him to Jason's location before he was ready. In reality, he knows it's more likely Jason honed in on Dick's bad knee and went for it. A good, solid strike from one of Dick's own electrified escrima sticks would be enough to interrupt the tracking device if not completely fry it.
“Can you take it out?” Slade asks.
“It's his knee,” Crane answers mildly. “Child's play.”
“Do it,” he instructs. Crane adjusts awkwardly, however. If he has any reservations or fears, he doesn't mention them.
“I'll get some anaesthesia,” he assures.
“Don't bother,” Slade says shortly. “He's being sedated with a very complex drug, we can't just give him something else and hope they play nice. I doubt he can feel much right now anyways and even if he could, the pain wouldn't bother him. Just restrain his leg.” Again, if Crane is unsure, he doesn't voice it.
Slade takes his hand away from Dick's mouth slowly, making sure Dick isn't going to spout off again, but he seems to have lapsed back into a distant unawareness for the moment. It makes it easy to strap his leg down, just in case he does get movement in his limbs too soon, and adjust him so Crane can get to work. As shaky as his hands are, one wouldn't assume Crane was capable of writing much less surgery.
Because he's really not.
Still, in a pinch like this, as long as they don't make him too nervous, he has it under control. Dick watches quietly as Crane rolls up his legging, cleans his knee and pulls his equipment closer. Slade makes sure to hold Dick’s leg still in addition to the restraints, not wanting him to jerk out of place and cause himself injury- or startle Crane.
Crane hesitates once he has the scalpel in hand.
“This won't hurt him?” he confirms.
“Do you really care if you hurt Talon?” Slade asks mildly. Crane is visibly conflicted by the question. He really doesn't want to hurt anyone but at the same time, it is Talon, a man who was minutes ago talking about getting off on him suffering. Slade exhales irritably. “He’ll be fine, Scarecrow.”
It will hurt, Dick just won't mind.
Crane takes too long to begin and by the time he starts cutting into Dick's knee, Dick has come back around to awareness. Slade knows this because he screams like he's dying. Urgently, Crane yanks away, fumbling his scalpel and panicking to find something to stop the blood. Slade has to grab him to stop him from flinging himself to the floor in his wild movements.
“Shut up, Talon!” Slade snarls. “He's faking it, Scarecrow. Continue.” Crane looks alarmed, a look that only increases tenfold when Dick begins to laugh instead.
“You're no fun, Wilson,” he complains in amusement. Slade physically grabs Crane’s wrist to drag him back to work. Perhaps no longer sure if he should be afraid of Talon or Slade, he quickly does.
“And you're a pain in my ass,” Slade replies shortly.
“It always surprises me that someone like you fathered someone like Jericho,” Dick says. He always knows where to press. Knowing he's doing it to get a rise out of Slade doesn't make it any less annoying- or painful. “Want to know something?”
“No,” Slade says. At least he has Dick's attention while Crane works.
“Jericho screamed for me,” Dick purrs anyways. He changed his mind, he doesn't want Dick's attention. “I broke his arm while I fucked him and he screamed my name in bliss. He said it was one of the best orgasms he's ever had, even better than when he touches himself to you.”
Slade grabs Dick's knee, digging his fingers into the open flesh Crane works on and making Dick's face scrunch in pain. He rasps out a strangled noise, almost lost under Crane’s panicked one.
“Keep my children’s names out of your mouth, Talon,” Slade warns. Dick lies, a lot, and it's hard to tell what is and isn't true. Joseph is nonverbal but- Slade doesn't want to even entertain any ideas Dick is trying to plant. He digs his fingers in harder, feeling the hot blood cling to his fingers. “Do you understand?”
And Dick moans.
“Oh, Mr. Slade, more.”
Slade jerks back as Dick laughs, a breathlessness to his voice that says he really did enjoy that.
“What's wrong?” Dick groans. “I was having fun.”
“I found it,” Crane alerts as he holds up a small, blood covered object between some tweezers. Slade exhales low and slow, assuring he can keep his composure without doing something he'll regret. Dick grinning at him doesn't help.
“Sew him up,” Slade instructs.
“Well, staples are better for knees,” Crane says.
“Just do it,” Slade answers roughly. “I'm going for a smoke.”
“You're leaving me with Talon?” Crane asks hastily, looking for somewhere to drop the tracker.
“Cover your ears,” Slade scoffs as he storms off.
He heads outside, finding Jason already standing against the wall, half through a cigarette of his own. Standing out in the open probably isn't the best idea at the moment but Crane’s lab is hard to breathe in for long. Slade crowds over him immediately, pushing his hand against the wall under Jason's arm and leaning in to kiss him roughly. Jason meets him, arching off the wall into it. He exhales shakily when they part.
“He still alive?” Jason asks. Slade kisses him again and Jason pushes him off a little. “Slade.”
“If you were honestly concerned, you would have come running when he screamed,” Slade says. “He's fine. Unfortunately. They both are.”
“Good,” Jason murmurs. He offers Slade the rest of his cigarette and Slade takes it, inhaling deeply but not doing much for changing his position. Even if it's brief and shallow, this little intimacy is nice. “He's not always this bad, ya know. He's just tryin’ to piss you off.”
“It's working,” Slade replies between his teeth. Jason glances at the blood staining his fingers. “What did you find?”
“Not a lot,” Jason admits. They both pause momentarily as Crane yelps but when nothing further sounds, they continue. “Roy made a good point, though. We don't gotta turn him on Bruce, we just need a little leverage.”
“Like what?” Slade asks. He doesn't like Roy so it goes without saying, he doesn't like Roy's ideas but they might not have a choice soon. There's not enough time to ‘convince’ Dick to turn on his father.
“If we can do something ‘nice’ for Dick, believe it or not, he will remember it,” Jason assures but doesn't specify what he's thinking. Slade gives him a bland look. “As much as it seems otherwise, Dick can and does think for himself.”
He did kill the Joker very against Owlman’s want.
“What are you thinking, Red?” Slade asks, a little more firmly. It sounds like Jason knows whatever it is, Slade won't like.
“Want to catch another bird?” he asks. Slade exhales smoke slowly, closing his eyes as he pushes off the wall to stand beside Jason instead. “Drake knows more about Dick than a person reasonably should. He knows how to get on Dick's good side.” If it wasn't bad enough they're literally holding Talon hostage and drawing Owlmen’s attention, now they're going after Red Bird? Slade knows Jason has a death wish but this seems like a little much.
“Why do you think he'll help you?” he asks mildly.
“Drake can be reasoned with,” Jason says. Slade gives him an unconvinced look. “Especially if Dick is involved.” ‘Involved’, ‘held hostage’, same thing. Revealing that they have Dick is a big risk to them. They don't want Owlman and Red Bird coming for their necks.
“It's too quiet in there,” Slade comments, flicking his cigarette at the ground. Jason nods a mild agreement and they head back inside.
“I'm sorry I'm so mean to you, Crane,” Dick says softly. Oh good, they're just in time. Crane flinches uncomfortably, doing his best to wrap Dick's knee quicker. “You just- give me these feelings I don't understand. You're so smart and-”
“Talon,” Slade sneers, trying to stop him.
“I'd love to feel your neck snap under my fingers,” Dick groans. Crane hurriedly moves away from him, whether he's done or not. Slade moves to finish his bandages and pull his legging back down. Dick grins at him the whole time.
“H- here,” Crane says, handing Jason the newly cleaned tracker he's found. Jason examines it thoroughly.
“Thanks, Scares,” he murmurs. “And don't mind him. He's mad he can't do anything right now.” Crane looks at Dick nervously and Dick smiles back at him. “This still works. The zap must’a fritzed the signal.”
“We should go,” Slade says, grabbing Dick's arm and pulling him to his feet. He can stand on his own now thankful and walk with minimum help- even if he limps now. They'll have to double check his knee later. “No point in giving Crane anymore of a heart attack.”
“Owlman-” Crane murmurs, hesitates as he looks at Dick again. “He won't- No one knows you were here, right?”
“I'll make sure Owlman doesn't come here,” Jason promises. Crane sighs in relief.
“You better not leave,” Dick hums contently.
“Do you ever shut up?” Jason asks irritably.
Crane lets out a stressed noise.
They head for a safe house. Dick walks more or less quietly, the sedative still causing him to zone in and out at random intervals, and by the time they get there, he can walk without having to lean on Slade at all even with his limp. He still needs guiding so he doesn't wander off in a random direction when he disassociates but they aren't keen on taking their eyes off of him anyways.
Even if they're letting Talon into one of their safe houses, which inherently makes it not safe, Slade is glad to be out of the open. He pushes Dick onto the couch where Dick stretches himself out leisurely and begins to fiddle with the jacket he's wearing. Hopefully Jason didn't leave anything in the pockets.
“Want to go get us some food?” Jason asks. If it means some time away from Dick, absolutely. “I'm going to make some adjustments to this.” He holds up the tracker. Slade looks at Dick. “Trust me, he bothers me a lot less than you.”
“I'll be back,” Slade assures.
Not wanting to stray far, Slade stops by the closest building to get enough food for the three of them. As much as he'd happily leave Dick to starve for the night, Jason probably wouldn't be happy with him. By the time he returns, nothing drastic seems to have happened. Truly a feat.
They sit around and eat. Dick, fortunately, capable of feeding himself and doing it quietly. It's been a long night.
“It's gonna be awhile before we can give Dick the sleep ‘aid’,” Jason says. “Think you can stay awake with him while I go lure Drake out?” Slade doesn't like the sound of any of that, honestly.
“By yourself?” he asks mildly. Jason gives him a pandering look.
“Relax. It's not like the results are gonna be immediate,” he scoffs back. That, somehow, makes it even worse. Slade looks at Dick again, watching him stretch his leg up behind his head in a blissful, disorientated daze. With nothing going on, he seems to easily get lost in the sedative.
“Fine,” Slade says curtly. “Make it quick. And stay safe.”
“Don't I always,” Jason assures.
“No,” Slade says. Jason gives him a look but doesn't say anything. Instead, he approaches Dick and gets his loose attention. He pulls something from his pocket, a candy sucker, and unwraps it.
“Open,” he instructs and Dick, with far too much enthusiasm, does. Jason pops the candy in his mouth and Dick hums contently. As he returns to Slade’s side, he hands him a few more. “Just don't let him choke on them, ‘ight? That should keep him quiet.”
Should.
“That would be a tragedy,” Slade assures. Jason smiles a little. He hesitates, considering briefly a kiss, before clearly deciding against it and taking his leave. Slade turns back to Dick, for the moment content and quiet on the couch. Hopefully he stays that way.
Slade washes himself in the sink, getting the blood from under his nails and the sickly feeling off of his neck. He knew they'd have to deal with Owlman eventually and by extension, Talon, but this really cropped up without warning. They weren't prepared in the least. They thought they had hid Jason better than this. They'll have to be more careful in the future.
If Jason, by some miraculous means, is right, though, and they can get Talon to even sort of align with them, to turn his back on Owlman at the very least, they'll have a very potent ally. Slade isn't going to get his hopes up, but having Talon on a similar side, and by extension Red Bird and Nightwing, is probably the only way to ensure they even have a chance against Owlman.
Slade picks up yesterday's paper and settles himself in the matching chair where he can keep an eye, and ear, on Dick. He's tired but the back to back dirt naps Dick helped him with, short as they were, rested him a little.
Dick's ‘good’ behavior can only last so long.
When he starts to move around again, Slade lowers his paper briefly to see what he's doing. He shrugs out of Jason's jacket with some irritation, likely growing too hot between that and his costume, and flings it away from himself. Dick huffs, coasts his hands through his hair like he's stressed, and rolls the sucker around his mouth, audibly clicking it against his teeth. Slade brings his paper back up as Dick gets to his feet. He limps to the little kitchenette and likewise, seems to wash his face.
Slade hears him try to open a draw, find it locked, then promptly give up. It's obvious he still has though violent thoughts but the sedative removes his willpower to actually see any of them through. Sionis is a terrifying man when he wants to be.
Dick approaches the back of his chair and Slade glances back at him just enough to make sure he actually is unarmed. As much as Sionis’ sedation seems to be working, and well, there's no reason to needlessly test it- especially when Dick is such a good actor. If the sedation does fail, it's entirely possible they won't know about it until it's too late. Dick puts his hands on Slade’s shoulders.
There's obviously harm in giving him things to actively pay attention to, like Crane so much as twitching too hard, so Slade pays him no mind even as the hands slide further down his chest and Dick leans against him. He reaches up, very intentionally past Slade's blind eye, and takes the sucker from his mouth with a soft ‘pop’.
“You know what else would keep me quiet?” he says suggestively, a low throaty noise in Slade's ear. Dick pops the candy back in his mouth and leans over Slade's shoulder as he reaches for his belt. Slade ignores this about as long as he can but in this case, not being entertaining clearly isn't a deterrent.
“No,” Slade says, grabbing one of Dick's wrist. Dick crunches down on the sucker suddenly, making Slade wince. All other obvious reasons aside, no, he'd actually love to not be bitten anywhere near his cunt. He physically moves Dick's hand away from his genitals and Dick moves to wrap his arms around his throat instead. The flex of his arms assures that he definitely wants to break Slade's neck again but he can't manage it at the moment.
“You and my brother are dating,” Dick comments, using his tongue to twirl the remaining stick around his mouth. It's not that surprising that Dick honed in on that quick if not immediately. “I am the older brother. Don't you want to see what you're missing?”
“No,” Slade answers again blandly. He brings his newspaper back up again.
“He learned everything from me, you know,” Dick purrs. Slade doesn't say anything. “I showed him how to kiss. How to act like a virgin. How to manipulate old men around his finger.”
The problem with Dick is, there's truth in the things he says. Even if it's just a little, it's there, and it's almost impossible to distinguish it from the lies. It's not so much a matter of ‘if he's telling the truth about this, what else is he’ but rather ‘where is the truth’. Dealing with his short temper, his aptitude for violence, his strong sexual presence, is all already annoying enough on its own. Trying to navigate his thinly veiled mind games isn't a bonus.
“We'd practice kissing for hours,” Dick groans in his ear. They're trying to turn Dick on Owlman and Dick is trying to turn them on each other. It's obvious he knows he can't get under Jason's skin easily. No, he wants to push Slade into snapping- at him or at Jason, whichever gets results.
Again, knowing that's what he's trying to do doesn't make Slade any less affected by it.
“Ask him yourself,” Dick says lowly. And therein lays the problem. Jason lies. Dick knows Jason lies and he knows Slade knows it. It's not even always that Jason wants to lie but being trained and raised by Owlman, sometimes that's just his first instinct. He'll do it over anything, usually for no discernable reason, and even when he knows Slade knows the truth. He can't help it. Sometimes he doesn't even realise it.
Slade can't always distinguish the truth in the things Jason says, either.
He's not sure why he allows it. It's annoying to think he's let Dick get under his skin already. Maybe he just wants to know- hard proof that Dick is lying. When Dick kisses him, Slade doesn't stop him. He doesn't reciprocate either, sitting still as Dick pushes his tongue between his lips and traces the roof of his mouth, the ridges of his teeth. As much as biting is still definitely a possibility, Dick doesn't even seem to consider it. He caresses Slade's tongue with his own as he draws back slowly.
“You want to hear Jay worship your name like a god while you fuck him?” Dick asks. Slade doesn't say anything but it wouldn't matter even if he did. “Get him on his stomach, twist his arm behind his back, and push.”
Slade hates Jason's brother.
Dick fishes another sucker out of Slade's pocket then he's slinking away back to the couch again. He stays there peacefully, as if he's been behaving all night, and Slade goes back to his paper. He's achieved what he wanted, after all, he's gotten under Slade's skin; sowed seeds of uncertainty and more dangerously, curiosity.
Jason returns eventually. He checks his watch as he strays back into the safe house and Dick hums a pleased, welcoming noise at him.
“Good, I made better time than I thought,” Jason notes. “Come here, Dick. If you sleep in that you will sweat to death.” Slade doesn't say anything as Jason pulls out a spare sets of clothes, far to big for Dick in any capacity, and then promptly has to help him out of his Talon uniform. Dick can dress himself at least and does seem way more comfortable now. They wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable, would they.
They cut it close to the ten minute mark. The near feral, sharp look to Dick's eyes like he's ready to lash out when Jason administers the second sedative is telling. Clearly the sedative wears off fast. They'll have to be careful. Once Dick is actually asleep, Jason handcuffs him to the bar beneath the couch screwed into the floor. Just in case.
Jason exhales in relief and Slade sighs.
“How much did you give him?” Slade asks.
“Six,” Jason replies then snorts an amused sound. “More than he's ever gotten on his own naturally.”
“Good,” Slade says. Six hours of peace he can work with. Jason comes to him immediately and Slade tosses his paper aside without a second thought, pulling Jason into his lap and wrapping his arms around his waist. Jason kisses him thoroughly, making up for the poor excuse of a kiss earlier. His brother being around makes him nervous. He doesn't want to let anyone know they're close because he doesn't want it to be used against him.
Jason pushes his tongue between his lips and traces the roof of his mouth, the ridges of his teeth. He caresses Slade's tongue with his own as he draws back slowly.
“Slade?” Jason says softly when Slade doesn't actively reciprocate. Slade looks at him a moment before pulling him back in for another kiss. He kisses back this time but Jason still pulls back. The look he gives Slade is questioning and he runs his tongue over his own mouth briefly.
“Did you eat one of those suckers?” he asks.
“Dick kissed me,” Slade says mildly.
“Jesus christ,” Jason says in irritation. “I'm so sorry, Slade. It's probably the sedative. He's not actually a sexual predator, he was probably trying to break your neck again.”
“It's fine,” Slade assures. “He was trying to make me use violence on him so the sedative wouldn't function.” Jason lets out a stressed noise. “Talon is cruel and cunning and doesn't play fair. We knew this.”
“I know,” Jason says. “He was bad when we were kids but not this bad.”
“Things change,” Slade replies. He takes Jason’s jaw in his hand and kisses him again. “We'll figure something out.” Jason nods and, fortunately, seems to relax a little. He wraps his arms around Slade's neck and pulls them close. Slade grabs his ass in both hands and Jason groans appreciatively. After such a long, stressful day, being able to relax with one another is obviously welcomed for both of them.
It doesn't take much heavy, hot kissing to get Jason hard, his cock impolitely prodding Slade’s stomach. Slade pulls him forward more to encourage him to rut against him. Jason lets him go to hastily reach for the collar of this protective spandex undershirt. He pulls it off over his head and Slade follows the curve of his side with his hand. There's fresh bruises all over him from his fight with Dick, darkening to purple colours already and obviously still sensitive to the touch.
Slade pops the button on his pants with the other hand and pushes both his spandex legging and briefs down under his cock. Even without much stimulation, Jason’s already dripping copious precum. Stress wears him out quickly which, in turn, always seems to make him more sensitive. He groans appreciatively as Slade strokes the precum down his cock in slow, steady movements. Jason leans in to kiss him again and Slade's eye flickers to Dick briefly, making sure he's actually asleep.
He tries not to think about the things Dick has said.
With his free hand, Slade pushes Jason's briefs down his hips and to his knees. Jason buries his face in Slade's shoulder, hips twitching as he very prominently breathes in Slade's scent. Slade moves them, standing as he pushes Jason face first into the chair and making him brace himself against it to keep his balance. He pulls his pants and briefs off with a couple yanks, jerking and twisting Jason around as he needs.
“I don't,” Jason murmurs and he glances over his shoulder minutely. Slade arches a brow at him, makes him shudder as he runs his hand up one of his strong thighs and squeezes his ass. “While you're dead, I mean. I don't- wouldn't- anything like that.”
Dick has obviously gotten under his skin more than a little, too.
“Didn't think that you did, kid,” Slade replies. He knows Jason too well for that. Jason nods rather curtly. It's more annoying to know he's thinking about his brother even now. Slade knows how to fix that. He digs the lube from the table drawer, particularly glad Dick hadn't been nosing around in the right places earlier, and pours more than a fair amount between Jason’s toned cheeks, holding them open with his thumb. Jason's knees twitch with anticipation.
More annoying, however, is how Slade keeps thinking about Dick right now.
He's barely a few feet away but still.
Slade thrusts a pair of slick fingers into Jason sudden and pulls a louder, more raspy groan from him. He slides his hand down to grip Jason's thigh firmly in his hand and Jason arches his back, pushing back into him for more.
“Slade,” he moans approvingly. Slade crooks his fingers against his sweet spot. “Oh, fuck.”
You want to hear Jay worship your name..?
He shouldn't. It's Talon. He's actively trying to pit them against each other as they are trying to pry him out of Owlman’s grip. It's far more likely that the ‘hint’ is malicious than it is anything else.
But Jason kisses like Dick does.
Slade grabs Jason's arm and twists it behind his back. Jason lets out a low, gravely whine of a noise as he's forced to put more of his weight on the recliner, barely able to keep his balance now. When Slade works his fingers harder and deeper, he doesn't even try. He chants a steady stream of, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” nearly inaudible under his groans. Slade pushes, feels Jason's shoulder pinch as it's twisted against the socket, and Jason throws his head down.
“Fuck, Slade,” he moans vocally. “Slade, Slade, fuck, yes.”
Talon lies. Slade wishes he'd do it more often.
Jason rhythmically chants his name as he comes, a lot harder and a lot sooner than he usually does from fingers alone. Slade doesn't know what to do with the information he has, how to feel about it, or even what it actually means. He only lets Jason's arm go when he's quietly panting and mostly slack again. With an effortless tug, he turns Jason back around and pushes him into the chair.
Slade grabs one of Jason's legs firmly, yanking him further down in the recliner so Slade can straddle his strong thigh more easily. He grinds his hot, dripping cunt against Jason's thigh through his jeans and Jason presses his leg up against him obediently. When he reaches for Slade's waist, Slade grabs both his wrists in one hand and twists them up above his head, leaving Jason to do little more than watch longingly as Slade finishes himself on his thigh.
He knows what Jason likes; he knows what Jason doesn't like. He knows Jason lies.
They shower together, too tired to bother talking. With everything that happened today, Slade doesn't even want to begin thinking about where to start tonight. Jason eats him out long enough for him to inevitably fall asleep and Slade wakes him up long enough to pull him into bed.
Tomorrow's going to be an even longer day.