Chapter Text
Dick steels himself as he approaches the door, bringing his hand up to his hair to ensure it was still tied up in a practical but cute bun. Makeup lightly dusts his face, including blush and some mascara.
For this particular undercover mission, Bruce had decided that being disguised as a woman would be better to let the guard down for the family he was trying to protect, the Garcias. Since it would be a longer mission, it would be useful for him to be friends with the target’s family, and gain their trust—allowing him access to their home, where he can plant monitoring devices. Dick had been almost everyone’s first choice for this job, since he was the best actor and most charismatic, at least according to Babs and Bruce.
He was a little irritated that they both allowed Tim and Steph the opportunity to refuse this mission but had immediately assumed Dick would agree. They had been right, but still, he was upset that he didn’t even get that kind of autonomy.
The mission had been set to start next Thursday, but the day before had ended with an explosive argument between him and Bruce, so he had decided he needed a break, and he hoped this mission could provide it.
It was an easy enough mission—just to protect the target, Manuel Garcia and his family. He had been the witness in a high profile killing against a powerful Gotham official, Jane Byrne, and Bruce was absolutely convinced there would be attacks on Garcia carried out by the Court of Owls while they waited for a formal court indictment and decision.
Thankfully, Batman had convinced Commissioner Gordon to provide a sort of witness protection to Garcia—including relocating Garcia and his family to one of the safer Gotham suburbs and monitoring Court hideouts for news of any ordered attacks. Dick was only supposed to serve as a sort of bodyguard, living close by to the Garcias in case of emergencies but other than that, it was a fairly straightforward.
He grabbed the tupperware container of cookies he spent all of the morning baking and smoothed his shirt down, and putting on a brilliant smile. He took a deep breath and walked out the door, turning to his right side and ringing the doorbell of the next door apartment.
Remember who you are. Adeline Keith, 28. Formerly a suburban housewife, now in the process of getting separated from her husband. You’re looking for a new job while you adjust without your husband, and you’re looking for support and friendship. And you need to manipulate them into giving it to you. Let them trust you so you have better access to their home.
Mrs. Cheyanne Garcia is the one to open the door. She gives him a confused but helpful smile. “Hi?”
“Hi!” Dick says brightly, thrusting a tupperware container into her arms. “Nice to meet you! I’m Adeline. You can call me Addie. I’m your new neighbor. I just moved into the apartment next door a few days ago.” He jerks his hand to the left side. “And, I just wanted to give you a quick gift to say hi.”
“Oh, welcome! Come on in,” She says warmly, stepping back so Dick could enter the apartment. It’s very small and homey, decorated well with children’s toys littered around the place.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Dick says, trying to play shy. “I don’t want to overstep.”
“Nonsense! Welcome in. I’m Cheyenne.” She leads him to the living room, gesturing for him to take a seat. “Addie, right?”
“Yes.” He smiles warmly and sits next to her. “Nice to meet you. I love your interior decor.”
She beams, and from the bedroom area, two kids scamper over to them, the younger boy climbing up to perch on his mom’s lap. The older one, the girl, smiles shyly at Dick. Cheyanne pops the lid open on the container and passes the kids a cookie each before taking one for herself and offering one to Dick.
Dick takes it gratefully, and turns his attention to the kids. “Hi! I’m Addie, what’s your name?”
“Hi.” The girl says shyly. “Rosalia.”
“What a pretty name!” Dick says, turning to the boy. “And you?”
“Danny.” He babbles, and Dick cooes.
“Awwww, how cute!” He shifts, turning to look Cheyenne in the eye. “You know, if you ever need a babysitter, you can just text me. I was a babysitter for a few years and I have a ton of little siblings so I have a lot of experience with kids. For free, obviously.”
She looks at him gratefully. “Oh, that would be lovely! Babysitters are so expensive and it’s been hard to find them around. Feels like years since I’ve had time to go on a date with Manuel, you know, without having the kids there.”
Dick sends her a sad smile, pretending to play dumb as he asks, “Manuel? Is that your husband?”
“Yeah.” She looks at him with a little bit of concern, no doubt alarmed by his quick change in expression.
“Dates are always good in a relationship.” He says, infusing some bitterness into his tone. “I… I’m in the process of getting… separated from my husband. I think part of the reason I decided to leave him was because he didn’t… take me on dates or anything anymore. But overall… it just felt like he didn’t want me around anymore.”
Cheyanne frowns, and puts her hand comfortingly over his. She turns to the kids and gestures for them to shoo. They wave bye to Dick and run back to their bedroom, grabbing some of the discarded toys on their way back.
She turns her attention back on Dick. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey.”
“It’s okay,” Dick says, eyes welling up with tears. “It’s… it’s not a big deal. Sorry,” He let out a wet laugh. “I’m—I’m so sorry for just dumping that on you. I don’t mean to be bitter.”
She shifts so she’s sitting closer to him. “No, it’s okay, honey. I’m here to listen. We’re neighbors, and you’ve already done two things to make my day—bring me cookies—which by the way are really good!” He smiles at that. “And, you offer to babysit my kids? Honey, you’re so sweet. It’s the least I can do for you.”
“Oh… I don’t know,” Dick says, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s a lot.”
“And that’s okay,” She promises. “I’m here to listen. Promise.”
“Okay… I, uh,” he sighs, staring down as he tries to decide what to say, “We… we met a long time ago, and I liked him for the longest time. Ever since I met him I knew he was, you know, the one. But he told me I was too young for him. That I deserved more than him. It took years but finally, finally, we got together and it was… perfect. And I still… I still love him so much. We were so in sync, you know? Like, we did everything together, and he treated me like I was everything to him.”
Batman and Robin—the dynamic duo.
You can’t take him away! He fair worships the boy!
We’re more than family. We’re partners.
I’d rather lose both arms than lose you!
Batman and Robin forever!
Dick looks up at her with an air of desperation. “He treated me like I was everything to him. And… And he still is everything to me.”
I didn’t have the right to call you back.
The right? I’d die for you, Bruce.
We were the dynamic duo… don’t you remember?
Your friends give you a lot of grief for being so ‘how high?’, every time he says ‘jump’ – but I also know he’s never given you any reason not to believe in everything he taught you.
Have you forgotten how it was? Wasn’t I always there for you?
Cheyenne nods understandingly, and squeezes his hand.
“He... He had this big painting of both of us commissioned after… after our wedding. It was so huge it took up like half the wall it was on! It was so ridiculous… I used to beg him to take it down but god, he loved it so much.” He pauses, hands coming up to wipe away his tears. “I thought it was so tacky but he loved it. And… And he’d buy me stacks of presents every birthday. Every Christmas. Even for no reason at all. It was like… it was like he adored me.”
Cheyanne offers him a sympathetic smile. “Of course.”
“And then… something happened. We started fighting. All the time, about the stupidest things. It’s like we used every excuse to just… push each other away. He’d tell me not to do something and then I’d do it just to spite him and we’d both get mad. I wanted my independence and he wanted… God, I don't know. He wanted control. To control me.”
Cheyenne nods sadly. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“He was just so paranoid after Jay died,” Dick continues, and she looks at him, a little lost. “His son,” he clarifies.
“I see.”
“After that… he became obsessed with keeping me safe and out of harm's way. But I didn't like that. I didn’t like being… possessed. I’d tell him that you’re not my father so stop acting like you are! and he’d get upset.”
I’m not your son, I’m your partner! You can’t treat me like that, and you can’t tell me what to do!
I’m not a kid, Bruce. You can’t treat me like this!
Robin wasn’t your idea, Bruce! It was mine! I sat in your cave and learned—and when you needed my help, I was there!
I’m not your employee, and I’m not your son. I’m your partner. And if you’re not willing to admit that… maybe we’re done.
“And, right after that… Well, he had other kids from before, you know. And Jay… he ended up getting into a terrible accident. He died. And… and he was only fifteen.” Dick chokes out a sob. “I used to be close with him. He… he looked up to me a lot and I feel like I failed him.”
I gave Jason my old Robin costume. I should have been there, Kory.
“Oh, I am so sorry.” She draws Dick into her arms, wrapping them around him. He exhales shakily into her neck. He shuts his eyes as she gently rubs at his back. “You didn’t fail him. No one thinks that. Not… Not Jay and not your husband either.”
“But Jay was just so young. I could have done something.” Dick says miserably. “And, when Jay died… It felt like a part of me did too. And, Bruce… he didn’t… take Jay’s death well either.”
C’mon, Bruce—talk. Don’t turn your back on me. I’m here… now.
“Bruce?” Cheyanne asks. “Your husband?”
Dick pauses. Shit. He’d reached too much into his real life for hopeless sob story inspiration.
“Yeah.” He says quietly.
She nods. “Okay. So he… So Bruce become depressed? After Jay died?”
“Yeah. A little. More than that, I guess. We, uh, kind of blamed each other? He thought I blamed him, I thought he blamed me…” He gazes off into the distance, his hands closing together lamely in his lap.
That hadn’t been a good time for either of them.
Are you blaming me? I left, so Jason replaced me, and because I left he died? No way, pal.
Bruce, c’mon… Lay off, I’m not here to fight.
Then don’t!
Why did you let him become Robin before he was ready?!
Don’t you dare blame me for Jason’s death! Don’t you dare!
“Then... Then we had another fight where he said he never wanted to see me again. Kicked me out of the house,” Dick sighs, “We forgave each other later. He said he’d only said that because he was scared…Scared he would just lose me, too. But since then it felt like something changed. I left him for a while, stayed with some friends.”
She nods. “I see.”
“Yeah. We… We didn't talk for a bit during that, and then he adopted another few kids. He felt bad for their situations and wanted to give them a chance at, you know, a better life.”
“He still sounds like a good man.” She offers.
“Yeah,” Dick says. There’s not another word for how he sounds other than devoted. “He was the best. ” He leans back roughly into the back of the sofa, using that as an excuse to slip a listening device into the crack between the backrest of the sofa.
“Have you ever tried couples therapy? He sounds like he has a bit of a guilt complex.”
Dick laughed bitterly. “Yeah. I tried therapy for a little but I didn’t find it that helpful.”
She pats his arm again. “I’m truly so sorry, Addie,” the fake name feels like a slap in the face. Everything he just said had been so genuine. It felt wrong for it to be assigned to someone who wasn’t real. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
For a while, there’s silence, and they sit together peacefully. Cheyenne gently holds Dick’s hand and they breathe deeply together.
“I know I was the one who left—the one who, you know, served the divorced papers… But, I miss him,” Dick admits quietly, “I miss him more than anything. I’d do anything for him to come back to me. For things to be the way they used to.”
She pulls him into another hug. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
They sit there for a while, Dick’s tears just a little too real for him to be comfortable with himself.
From the bedroom area, they both look up as Rosalia walks over them, shyly.
“Rosa,” Cheyanne says sternly, “Were you eavesdropping? You know that’s not polite.”
“Sorry.” She sounds so genuinely guilty Dick wants to cry harder.
From behind her back, she pulls out a teddy bear. It’s a fuzzy brown with a golden bow tied around its neck. “For you.”
“Oh, I can’t possibly accept that.” Dick says, shocked. The toy looks new, almost too clean to be owned by kids as young as they are—there’s a shocking lack of marker stains and other unknown stains on it.
She shakes her head. “For you.”
He looks questioningly to Cheyenne, who nods slowly.
“Thank you. That’s very kind.” He says slowly, trying to convey his appreciation.
“You said you were alone. Now you don’t have to be.” She says, flushing pink.
He looks at her with big eyes. How kind.
She sends him a shy smile and grabs another cookie before scampering away.
Cheyenne sends him a soft smile. “She’s a little shy, but she's very sweet.”
“Yeah,” Dick echoes hollowly.
The girl, Rosalia, really reminds him of Damian at that moment—the boy who stays quiet until he realizes you’re upset. Then he’d turn the world upside down if it meant you’d smile.
Dick stands up, slowly. “I… I… Thank you!” He calls the last part out to the bedroom. He turns back to Cheyenne. “I should go. Thank you so, so, so much for listening, Cheyenne I—”
“Of course, honey. We’re neighbors.” She sent him a small smile. “That’s what good neighbors do.” She walks him to the door and pulls him into a hug. “If you ever, ever , need anything, or anyone to talk to—I’m here, okay?”
He nods, and clutches at the teddy bear. “Thank you. Of course.”
“Good. Also, here.” She hands him a piece of paper with her number on it, making him promise to text her later.
“Thank you.” He sends her a grateful smile, and they step out together.
“Wait!” She cries. “Just wait one more second. I have some leftovers I can get you.”
“Oh, you’ve done too much already, Cheyenne, I can’t—”
“Nonsense! Just wait right here.” She spins past him, dashing toward the kitchen.
Dick smiles to himself and steps backwards. He frowns as he steps onto someone—or something—and he wheels himself around to apologize. “Oh, god, I’m so… sorry.”
The words die in his mouth as he realizes that the person he’s stepped on is Slade Wilson.
He’s dressed casually, in light gray sweatpants and a dark blue shirt. His muscular arms are crossed over his chest and he’s smirking. The one eye Dick can see is crinkled in satisfaction.
Dick glares. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Wanted to talk to you.” Slade says plainly, and Dick can feel himself get more furious.
“Get out!”
“I—”
“Seriously.” He screeches. “Get out! ”
Cheyenne runs back to the door, two big containers of food in her hands. She freezes as she sees the staring match going on between Dick and Slade. “Um… Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Dick says with a false brightness. He turns back to Slade. “Now please, get out.”
Slade steps closer. “Birdie, I—”
Dick leaped back like he'd been struck, subtly positioning himself in Cheyenne.
Did the Court hire Deathstroke to kill or capture Manuel Garcia? Or his family? Shit, shit, shit.
“Seriously. Get out.”
But… Slade isn't wearing any of his armor, and he wasn’t carrying any weapons, either. Maybe he’s scoping the area out and he’ll come back later?
Still, Dick doubted that Deathstroke would let himself be seen by witnesses in the scene of the crime. Especially since he was wearing no disguise.
Well, he might as well just ask.
“Are you here just to—” Dick starts, pretending to choke up, but he finishes the sentence off by subtly finger-spelling K-I-L-L H-E-R? Cheyenne appears not to notice. “Stand here and make me feel bad?”
“No. Whatever it is you think I’m here for, it’s not for that.” Slade’s eye looks at Dick with such intensity he finds himself truly believing he’s telling the truth.
Dick exhales, trying to calm himself. “Then why are you here?”
“For you,” He says it plainly, and Dick rolls his eyes. “I missed you,” he adds unconvincingly.
Cheyenne looks between the two, her eyes getting wider and wider as she finally draws her conclusion. “Is this him? ”
Slade finally turns his attention onto her and scowls. “I’m sorry? Do I know you?”
Dick looks alarmed. Shit.
“I’m Addie’s neighbor.” Cheyenne says calmly.
Slade’s eyebrows knit together at Addie and his eyes dart to Dick, who signs M-E. Slade gives him a subtle nod.
Cheynne turns back to face Dick. “Is this Bruce? ”
Dick looks incredibly pained, like he’s been hit in the head with an axe. Slade looks incredibly amused.
“Yes.” Dick says finally. He flashes Slade with a quick P-L-A-Y A-L-O-N-G as Cheyenne turns her attention back on Slade. S-A-I-D W-E D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D.
Slade looks too gleeful for Dick to be completely comfortable, but he plays along.
Slade turns to Cheyenne. “And you must be?”
“Cheyenne. Your, uh, wife’s neighbor."
“Ex-wife.” Dick corrects.
“Right,” Cheyenne says, with an apologetic smile, “Ex-wife.”
“Not ex-wife yet.” Slade says, and Dick scowls harder. He didn’t mean play along that much!
“Right.” Cheyenne claps her hands together. “How about I give you both some space?” She backs away nervously, and Slade nods.
Dick grabs Slade by the wrist, trying to drag him out and into his neighboring apartment. Slade doesn’t budge and Dick growls. “Bruce. Move.”
Slade concedes and lets Dick drag him along.
He nods at Cheyenne and she waves back. “Bye, Addie!”
The door slams shut loudly, the sound ringing the air as Dick drops the teddy bear and pushes Slade up against the door, pressing an elbow against his jugular. He doesn’t even bother locking the door, he’s so mad.
He flicks out a Batarang from his sleeve, bringing it close enough to Slade’s throat that he could draw blood in milliseconds. “What do you want? ”
Slade smirks at him. “Just wanted to say hi. I missed you, Addie.” He says the last word slowly, leaning down to exhale on Dick’s ear. Dick freezes and Slade uses it as a distraction, grabbing Dick’s other arm and flipping them.
The Batarang clatters as it falls to the floor.
Slade holds Dick’s one arm up above his head—effectively boxing him in so Dick’s front is pressed against the door. Dick turns his head to the side and closes his eyes. Slade leans his head down until he’s whispering directly into Dick’s ear, who tries to squirm away from him. “Did you choose that name on purpose? ”
“No.”
“Then, did you make Bruce the name of your husband on purpose?” He sounds vicious now, hand gripping Dick’s wrist so tight he’s sure it’ll leave marks.
“And what’s it to you?” Dick asks, rather coldly. He’s not in the mood to be interrogated by Slade. He just wants him to get out .
There’s lives at stake. Manuel and Cheyenne. Daniel and Rosalia.
Slade laughs coldly. “Oh, I know you did.”
“I didn’t!” Dick insisted. “It was… a misunderstanding.”
“You forget I can hear everything.”
“And? It was a misunderstanding.”
“One you failed to correct.”
“For convenience!”
“Oh, little bird,” Slade croons. “I heard you talking to her about your, ah, failing marriage. So sad. Truly touching.” Contrary to what he says, Slade sounds thrilled. “Is that how you see your relationship to him? As a marriage?”
Dick scowls into the door, refusing to let Slade see his face.
“Did you just get so tired of acting like his wife and you just had to be it?” He leaned in closer, pressing his crotch into Dick’s ass. “Is this a little fantasy for you? How sick.”
“Shut up!” Dick yells. He tries to pull his arms out of Slade’s grasp but Slade only holds them tighter.
“And you know what, birdie?” Slade’s lips graze his ear. He’s still growling, his hot breath warming Dick’s face. “You were right. He treated you were his pretty little wife. You took care of the kids for him, did everything he said, centered your whole life around him, only for him to throw you away when he wanted a younger, prettier model.” Slade sneers. “And still, you crawl back to him.”
“Don’t you dare talk about him like that.” Dick hisses. “And you think you’re any better? You’re nothing compared to him. You could climb all the tallest mountains and you still wouldn’t be able to reach his boots!”
Slade continues on, not even sparing a moment to listen to what Dick was saying. “Sit, Robin. Stay, Robin. Beg, Robin. Aren’t you tired of being treated like a bitch?”
Dick snarls at him, trying to yank his hands from Slade’s hold.
Slade laughs again, more cruelly. “Don’t you ever get tired of being his bitch?”
Dick tries to escape again, but Slade grabs at his hair and tugs it, forcing his neck back at an unnatural angle. A pained cry escapes Dick’s throat.
“No, because that’s what you want, right?” Slade pauses, his voice getting more kindly as he whispers, “You just want to be his forever.”
Dick sobs and Slade tugs harder.
“You gave him your life, Robin. Your soul. Your body. Your devotion. And in return, he gives you nothing. Replaces you. Pushes you away. Forces you to leave.”
“And still! You crawl back to him.” Slade laughs, sounding nastier now. “How pathetic. Is that what you are? A kicked dog? A pathetic little thing who crawls back to his master? Is that what you are?”
The tears are streaming freely. down Dick’s face now, and he’s sure his mascara is ruined. In fact, he’s sure he looks ruined. ”No.”
“No?” Slade tsks. “Don’t lie, Robin. At least now you have the balls to tell everyone how much you want him, how much you wish you could really be his little—”
“Stop.” Dick pants. He closes his eyes, trying to pull his face away from Slade. His head is pounding, and he’s blurring in and out of consciousness.
“How much you want to be his wife.”
Slade lets go, and Dick’s head snaps forward, almost banging into the wall. He stays there, panting.
“I’m sure you heard it. The news said it. The magazines said it. All of Gotham’s elite said it. And god, how you just wished that were true. You’d sleep every night with your legs spread, wishing you would wake up and find him standing over you, pulling those pretty legs over his shoulders. Hmm? ”
Dick gasps, and Slade brings up a hand to squeeze his throat.
“Wishing he’d bend you over in... his car. Wishing he’d hit you so hard it’d leave your ass so red everyone could see it. See his claim on you.” Slade moves his hand up to pet Dick’s hair gently with his free hand. “And I’m sure he wished for that too. You’re hard to say no to.”
“Stop.” Dick cries, and a tear falls down his face. “Don’t say that!”
“No?”
“He’s a good man!” Dick yells. “A good man!”
“Yes,” Slade says graciously. “The greatest man you know, and all that. But you wish he wasn’t, don’t you? He didn’t kiss you, didn’t fuck you, didn’t love you… Because he’s too good. Infallible. Pristine. But no. You’re right. He is a good man. Too good—too good for a dirty little thing like you—”
“Stop!” Dick screams in anger and jumps backward, kicking his leg out to hit Slade’s thigh. He twirls out from under Slade and tackles him onto the floor. He lands hard on Slade’s chest, his hands moving up to square Slade’s throat. “Don’t you fucking dare! You don’t know anything about him. Or about me!” He adds furiously as Slade smirks.
“Awwww,” Slade cooes, his single eye still crinkled as he smiles, “Still taking the fire for him?”
Dick freezes in anger, his form is sloppy enough Slade’s able to easily roll them over so Dick is pushed under him. He tugs at Dick’s hair again, which falls around his face like a halo.
“You look good like this.” Slade admits, eyes drinking in Dick’s ruined mascara and flushed face. “Angry. Fierce. Beautiful.” He grabs at Dick’s face to bring him up to his lips, but Dick, desperate to get control, surges up at the same time. Their noses hit each other, and Dick huffs. Slade pulls him in again for a kiss. “Aren’t you ashamed? I know you only let me do this to you because I remind you so much of him.” Slade pulls away, his eyes dilated and gaze hungry, like a predator.
Dick ignores him and leans up to kiss him again. “Shut up.”
Slade smirks wickedly. “You know who else I heard that from?”
“I don’t care.”
“Miss Talia al Ghul.” Slade says. He sounds entertained. “Or, should I say Mrs. Talia Wayne? Are they still married?”
Dick growls, hands coming up to scratch against Slade’s chest at the mention of Talia—the woman who got everything he wanted twice. He grabs at the material, causing it to rip. He yanks it down and pulls it tight around Slade’s neck. Slade only grins.
His smile only taunts Dick more, who pulls the shirt off Slade so hard it tears. He tosses it lazily to his side and he pulls Slade closer to him, digging his fingers into Slade’s long hair and sloppily pressing their lips to each other.
Slade kisses back fiercely and Dick feels so lightheaded he’s dizzy. From the back of his head, Dick hears a loud creak and then an apologetic voice, but he doesn’t care. He pulls himself closer to Slade, like he’s trying to devour him.
Finally, Slade pulls away, his eyes flicking back towards the door, eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Dick almost growls at him for getting distracted.
Pay attention to me. Don't you dare look at anyone else.
Not like he did—not like he did when I was right there.
He glowers at Slade, begging him with eyes to turn his attention back on the smaller man. But still, Slade’s eyes stayed trained on the door, and Dick follows his gaze.
His face flushes red as he recognizes the woman who stands in front of them.
It’s Cheyenne.