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Groaning, Jason slowly tried to pull himself into wakefulness, throbbing pain behind his eyes not doing much to help him orient himself. Every part of his body hurt, and this didn’t feel like his couch… He’d passed out on that enough to know the difference.
It was worthless now to pretend he wasn’t awake. The groaning he’d already done was likely to alert whoever had taken him.
Stupid.
Instead, he twisted, ignoring the way it pulled at his ribs, trying to push himself up. He didn’t recognize any of this place. It was neat, almost meticulously so. There’s no personal touches except that it’s a nice place. The kind of place Bruce would call a safe house, which also meant that Jason immediately thought it was stupid.
Continuing to ignore the pain, he makes it up to a fully seated position as he took in the room. If no one had rushed in here already, he was probably okay for another few minutes, right? No super humans, no metas, no weird ass black and orange mask that-
Fuck.
His hand goes for a gun that isn’t there.
“Deathstroke,” he ground out, hoping it comes across as intimidating. Unlikely after the groan he let out at that the other undoubtedly heard. But Slade Wilson is standing in front of him, so he has to try.
The mask wasn’t on his face, but he recognized that orange and black armor anywhere. Dick had made sure he did before Jason died. Told him to run if he ever saw it. He’d never gotten a ton of context except for the fact that Slade was weird about Dick.
“That’s a lot of venom for a little bird that’s just been rescued,” Slade commented from where he was leaning against the door frame, arms folded across his chest. Unconcerned that Jason was currently looking for the nearest weapon to run him through with, not that it would do a ton of good with that advanced healing factor unless he was very precise.
It was coming back to him now. Getting caught by traffickers. Having the shit beat out of him. His mask tossed aside to only reveal the domino underneath.
Bidding.
Hands.
He barely managed to suppress the disgusted shiver that went down his spine, grimacing. “Try anything funny and I’ll show you just how little I am,” he retorted sharply. He was already going to kill every last one of those bastards that had their hands anywhere near him. And then the rest of them.
“Shut up and sit down before you hurt yourself, kid,” Slade retorted, turning to disappearing to wherever the fuck he came from like Jason couldn’t at least do some damage. “I’m making tea and then calling someone to come take care of you.”
The part of Jason’s mind that is still processing what happened to him doesn’t process the tone of those words. All he hears is threat.
A hand shot out, searching for the nearest sharp item to throw at the other. To defend himself from whatever is coming next. He knew what happened when people went to those auctions, and he knew what Dick had said before about Slade.
His wrist is caught in a tight grip before the book he grabbed can be thrown, squeezing until he is forced to let it go. Slade’s other is gripping his face, forcing him to look at him. “Let’s get one thing clear here. I saved you,” he ground out. “Not because I overly care about you but because there’s others in your shit show of a family that would be really upset if they lost you again. That doesn’t mean I’m going to put up with you throwing my things. I’m not a threat to you. Understand?”
It takes a moment as Jason tried to breathe, jerking his head away and taking a step back. Too many people had been in his personal space lately.
Under no impression that Slade did anything but allow him to step away.
“I was on an auction block and now I’m in your house. See how I might be a little jumpy, asshole?” Jason shot back. He felt slimy just thinking about the whole thing, and he was definitely going to have to scrub off all of those thoughts off tonight until his skin was raw.
“Well relax. Not exactly my preferred vigilante up to spend money on anyways.”
Which, one, ew. Second, he didn’t need to know that. It also just… wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.
“Then why bother?” The words whipped out of him before he could help it. It wouldn’t be the first time someone left him on the chopping block or assumed he’d figured it out. Admittedly, he didn’t hold the first one against Bruce. He hadn’t known Jason could be so incredibly stupid.
Slade’s gaze fell on him before stepping closer, crowding Jason who refused to back up. “Because I’m not Batman. I don’t leave his birds to die,” he ground out. “Especially not ones I helped train.”
What?
Pulled up short, Jason stared at him, eyebrows knitting together. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
His eyebrows rose briefly before shrugging. “I spent time with the League of Assassins. Trained the brat. Trained you. I was gone before you were fully functional, I suppose. Took a while for your mind to come back to you,” the mercenary explained.
After the Lazarus Pit. Slade Wilson had been around after he’d been dunked in the Lazarus Pit and trained him. Sparred with him. Knew how to fight with him, and probably knew how to deal with his fighting style better than Bruce had when he had originally come back. Huh. And- “That’s enough reason to save me?”
“It’s enough reason to not let you get trafficked, yes. Now will you sit down so I can make tea?”
His eyes narrowed for a moment, frowning at him before finally nodding. “Fine,” he muttered, turning away but never letting Slade quite out of his sight. He wasn’t stupid.
Slade, on the other hand, appeared to have no such gripes as he disappeared back to wherever he came from. Promptly testing how much Jason was willing to listen to him. Not at all.
Taking a deep breath, Jason forced himself to wait at least ten seconds before following him down the hallway, resisting the urge to stuff his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t just going to drink something that Slade fucking Wilson had made for him. Or… anyone, currently, after the shit that he’d been through because he still couldn’t quite remember how they’d gotten a hold of him.
So he followed Slade into the kitchen, arms folded across his chest as he watched him make tea and focused on his breathing.
“You don’t listen for shit, do you, kid?” Slade grumbled without looking up.
What mattered was that he didn’t try to force Jason back to the living.
“Not generally, no. But if you know anything about how I ended up with the League, I feel like you should be aware of that,” Jason shot back. Shifting so that he wasn’t in the way, he leaned against the counter, fingers tapping against his arm.
Instead of arguing with him, Slade just snorted. “I know your older brother. I could extrapolate without ever meeting you.”
It’s said with such sureness that it draws Jason up shortly, blinking at the mercenary. Nothing he’d ever heard suggested that Slade actually knew Dick well enough to really understand his personality. That, however, was thrown out the window unless he wanted to marked Slade Wilson down as presumptuous about others.
A trait that wouldn’t make sense for one of the world’s best killers for hire.
The tea is done before he can finish processing, Slade holding one out to him calmly. Waiting to see what he would.
“Listen. I already texted Grayson. You can check yourself if you think I’m trying to drug you or something,” Slade said with a huff of what had to be annoyance. What else could it be? Exasperation would be almost fond, so that couldn’t be right.
“Why would you even have his number?” Why would Dick give it to him? Who would want to talk to Slade in their free time? Especially golden boy Dick Grayson.
He’s not imagining the way Slade’s mouth twitches in amusement. He knows he’s not.
Slade is still holding out the mug. “You can talk to him about that. Just know that he has mine in return,” he promised. “Now take the damn mug so I can show you I’m not lying.”
Huffing, Jason took the mug so Slade could fish out his cell phone. The warmth seeped into his hands, making his shoulders relax instinctively. The only people who regularly made him hot drinks were people he trusted implicitly. Alfred. Roy. A handful of others.
He doesn’t take a sip out of it though until he can tap the contact for Dick, merely labeled with a bluebird rather than any actual name. A small security measure that he’s certain has to be hidden behind others. The familiar number stared back at him after seeing a handful of messages back and forth to come pick him up.
Anything older than that wasn’t visible.
“Fine,” Jason grumbled, taking a sip as the device was smugly pulled away. Making the whole situation all the worse that Slade had a direct line to his brother, and he used it often enough to replace Dick’s name with an emoji.
Even as Slade waved him back towards the living room that he had been in earlier, Jason grumbled the whole way, taking in the place. The whole apartment was nice, if Spartan. Clearly well kept by a man that had a no-nonsense attitude, which did sound a lot like what he knew of Slade. Slightly reassuring after discovering the man had Dick’s personal number.
He sank into a chair instead of the couch though, wanting to keep a clear view of the door and Slade as the other man moved around, still uncaring if he turned his back on Jason. It was almost insulting.
Until his helmet was set down on the table coffee table.
“You’ll have to replace the guns, but I did see this on our way out,” Slade said calmly, setting his own mug down next to it. He didn’t wait for any commentary, disappearing only to return with his personal guns a moment later, settling down to disassemble and clean them while they waited on Dick.
Jason hesitated at first before grabbing the helmet as well, pulling it out of Slade’s way. He turned it over in his hands, checking for any damage. Those bombs he used to put in it definitely needed to be reinstalled if people were just going to unmask him like that...
Silence lapsed between them as Jason sipped at his tea and Slade cleaned his weapons. What was he even supposed to say? Thanking him felt stupid, and asking questions wouldn’t get anywhere.
Just as well, Slade didn’t seem willing to talk currently. He was set on the task at hand, tea set out of the way so that he could work through the weapons methodically. It was probably just as much instinct for him as it was for Jason these days. Something that signified the end of a long day.
Neither willing to talk at first until a knock sounded at the door.
Before Slade could get up, the door was already opening, Dick appearing in the doorway to the living room. “You look like you’re giving him a stern talking to about dating your daughter or something,” he commented, brushing past the table and the numerous guns on it like everyone in the room wasn’t aware of the fact that Slade had to murder at several people to get Jason out of such a situation.
The look that Slade shot him seemed like he was considering adding another person to the night’s body count. Did Slade even have a daughter?
Dick is standing in front of him before he can move too far, taking in every inch of him. “You alright? Heard you got stuck in a hell of a situation,” he said quietly, back to Slade like the two hadn’t tried to fight to the death on multiple situations.
“I’m not dead, so I could be worse,” Jason shrugged. That earned him an unimpressed look from Dick. Maybe they weren’t at the ‘joking about how he died’ stage yet...
Or at least not when he had been recently kidnapped and drugged.
A hand reached out, turning his face gently from side to side, giving him every chance he needed to pull back if he wanted to.
Jason let himself be examined though before nodding as the other mutters about getting him home. “Not the cave,” he warned. He didn’t want to deal with all of that fussing. If Bruce found out, he’d never be able to get back to his own place.
“Not the cave,” Dick promised with a small smile. He probably understood. He had to, especially since he’d been the first to move out.
The whole time, Slade stayed in his spot on the floor while he continued to reassemble his weapons. “I’ll text you about the ring I found him in. Though I imagine he has most of the details if they didn’t fuck with his memory too much,” he commented, watching them.
“Get fucked, old man. I can remember that much,” Jason grumbled. “They were on my turf in the first place.”
“I’m not the one that was passed out when they were found.”
“What were you even doing in Gotham anyways, Slade? You didn’t mention you were in town,” Dick interrupted before they could get into a proper argument, eyes falling on the mercenary suspiciously before his gaze returned to looking Jason over once more for injuries like he could have missed something the first time.
“Isn’t your town, Grayson.”
Jason expected Dick to snap at him, but the elder is already waving over his shoulder at the other man like they talked like this all the time. “It’s my family’s town, and you know it,” he reminded the mercenary over his shoulder, still not bothering to turn around. Instead, he’s more focused on getting Jason up and moving, making sure his helmet comes along with them and the now empty mug is left behind.
“What the fuck, Dick?” he finally breathed as an arm was thrown around his shoulders.
Dick is already steering him out the door. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it sometime when you’re not dealing with all of this. Deal?”
Jason is grumbling in reluctant agreement about holding him to ride on his bike back to a safe house as he’s lead outside without further explanation, left to hold onto his big brother and try to ignore how much safer that felt than everything else that had happened that night. Resting his head against Dick’s shoulder, he let himself pretend that it was to avoid the wind, but there was something deeply familiar about taking comfort in this way.
Closing his eyes, his arms tightened around Dick and forced himself to breathe. He could ask his questions tomorrow. Right now, he was safe, at least.
Dick wouldn’t let anything else happen to him. Everything else was a tomorrow problem.