Fic: "Sparring" by kyrdwyn [R; Tim Drake, Slade Wilson]
Title: Sparring
Author: kyrdwyn
Rating: R
Series: Beloved
Fandom: Batman (comics)
Pairings/Characters: Tim Drake, Slade Wilson, background Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Summary: Slade goes to talk to Tim after the events of "Morning After".
Warnings: AU. Dark AU.
Beta: None
Previous Parts: Beloved | Confusion | Revelation | Conversation | Dead Man's Memories | Maternal Devotion | Protégé | Exposure | Retaliation | Rescue | Meeting of Minds | Breakdown | Support | Plans | Etiam in Morte | Morning After
When Slade finally tracked Tim down, the young man was in the workout area, going through a kata that Slade had taught him, useful for a hand to hand fight with only one eye. Slade waited until Tim's back was turned and stepped in close, aiming a kick at Tim's back. Tim whirled and blocked it, eye narrowing at Slade.
"Good," Slade said approvingly, moving back a step on the mats of the practice room.
Tim blushed a little, and Slade wondered, again, what had been wrong with Tim's world that he seemed so unused to praise. His own Tim had been like that, when he'd first forced his way into Slade's life, but he'd grown used to it as they'd become more father and son than mentor and student.
Slade didn't get the chance to offer Jason's apologies as Tim stepped forward and swung a punch with his off hand. Slade blocked it and kept going, sensing that Tim wanted this more than conversation right now. The two of them settled into a violent dance of punches and kicks and blocks that Slade and his student Tim had engaged in often, not so much training as a form of silent communication between two men, father and son, more used to violence than soft words.
They sparred for a good half hour before Slade called a halt by stepping off the practice mat and raising his hands, palms out. Tim halted, panting heavily, sweating from the spar and his workout beforehand. He stayed on the mat as Slade walked over to one of the benches and picked up a towel and bottle of water that sat on the bench. Tossing both of them to Tim, Slade made sure the younger man caught both before grabbing his own towel and bottle of water. Tim never looked at Slade the entire time, drinking his water and then using the towel to wipe his face and the back of his neck, looking down at the mat.
"Quit it."
Tim looked at Slade, startled.
"You're blaming yourself for last night. You cannot control when the memories take over, Tim."
"He thought I was his Beloved, Slade. Because I thought I was his Beloved."
"Again, not your fault, kid. If anything, Jason's at fault - he knew better, knew you weren't his Beloved."
"I handed him his most no-so-secret desire on a fucking silver platter! His Beloved, begging for forgiveness, kissing him - hell, Slade, I even look like his Beloved now!" Tim gestured to his face, the missing eye behind the eyepatch. "Tell me how he was supposed to resist that!"
"Jason knows you aren't his Beloved, and that no matter what memories have control of you, you are not his Timothy. What happened last night wasn't your fault, so quit blaming yourself."
Tim turned and hurled the half empty water bottle across the room. It hit the wall with enough force to break the plastic and send water flying. "It's not me, Slade? I'm not me! I'm losing me! Every memory, every injury, I keep losing more of me, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, son of Jackson and Janet, adopted son of Bruce, third Robin to Batman, now Red Robin, part of the Teen Titans! All I see, all I know some days, is Timothy Jackson Drake, son of Jackson and Janet, protégé of Deathstroke, Beloved of Jason Todd al Ghul and member of the League of Assassin called the Dragon."
Looking at Tim, Slade knew that Tim would never blame Jason for what happened between them the previous night, because Tim blamed himself, for losing himself in the memories of this world's Tim.
"God, Slade..." Tim trailed off, looking at the towel in his hands. "I've slept with both men and women before, but last night...if that's what Jason and Tim had together, if that's what it was always like for them, how can I blame Jason for wanting one more night, or blame him for last night?"
That answered one question Slade had been partially wondering about.
"I need to get home. Before I stop being me. Before your Tim, Jason's Tim, is all that's left." Tim sighed. "I want to go home," he said softly.
Slade walked forward, pulling Tim into a hug. "We will get you home, kid."
Tim snorted. "We don't really know how I ended up here, Slade."
"But we will get you home. I promise."
Tim didn't say anything for a long time. When he finally pulled back, he looked at Slade. "Another round?"
Slade smiled, knowing Tim was hiding his feelings in the fight. "You're on."
Hours later, Slade picked up his communicator and dialed into a frequency he hadn't used in years. "Arsenal."
"Deathstroke," came the wary reply.
"I think we need to employ that contingency plan."
Slade could hear the smile in Harper's voice. "Just tell me when and where."
"Tonight. The docks." Slade looked at Oracle's mask on his computer screen. "I've got a plan."
Author: kyrdwyn
Rating: R
Series: Beloved
Fandom: Batman (comics)
Pairings/Characters: Tim Drake, Slade Wilson, background Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Summary: Slade goes to talk to Tim after the events of "Morning After".
Warnings: AU. Dark AU.
Beta: None
Previous Parts: Beloved | Confusion | Revelation | Conversation | Dead Man's Memories | Maternal Devotion | Protégé | Exposure | Retaliation | Rescue | Meeting of Minds | Breakdown | Support | Plans | Etiam in Morte | Morning After
When Slade finally tracked Tim down, the young man was in the workout area, going through a kata that Slade had taught him, useful for a hand to hand fight with only one eye. Slade waited until Tim's back was turned and stepped in close, aiming a kick at Tim's back. Tim whirled and blocked it, eye narrowing at Slade.
"Good," Slade said approvingly, moving back a step on the mats of the practice room.
Tim blushed a little, and Slade wondered, again, what had been wrong with Tim's world that he seemed so unused to praise. His own Tim had been like that, when he'd first forced his way into Slade's life, but he'd grown used to it as they'd become more father and son than mentor and student.
Slade didn't get the chance to offer Jason's apologies as Tim stepped forward and swung a punch with his off hand. Slade blocked it and kept going, sensing that Tim wanted this more than conversation right now. The two of them settled into a violent dance of punches and kicks and blocks that Slade and his student Tim had engaged in often, not so much training as a form of silent communication between two men, father and son, more used to violence than soft words.
They sparred for a good half hour before Slade called a halt by stepping off the practice mat and raising his hands, palms out. Tim halted, panting heavily, sweating from the spar and his workout beforehand. He stayed on the mat as Slade walked over to one of the benches and picked up a towel and bottle of water that sat on the bench. Tossing both of them to Tim, Slade made sure the younger man caught both before grabbing his own towel and bottle of water. Tim never looked at Slade the entire time, drinking his water and then using the towel to wipe his face and the back of his neck, looking down at the mat.
"Quit it."
Tim looked at Slade, startled.
"You're blaming yourself for last night. You cannot control when the memories take over, Tim."
"He thought I was his Beloved, Slade. Because I thought I was his Beloved."
"Again, not your fault, kid. If anything, Jason's at fault - he knew better, knew you weren't his Beloved."
"I handed him his most no-so-secret desire on a fucking silver platter! His Beloved, begging for forgiveness, kissing him - hell, Slade, I even look like his Beloved now!" Tim gestured to his face, the missing eye behind the eyepatch. "Tell me how he was supposed to resist that!"
"Jason knows you aren't his Beloved, and that no matter what memories have control of you, you are not his Timothy. What happened last night wasn't your fault, so quit blaming yourself."
Tim turned and hurled the half empty water bottle across the room. It hit the wall with enough force to break the plastic and send water flying. "It's not me, Slade? I'm not me! I'm losing me! Every memory, every injury, I keep losing more of me, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, son of Jackson and Janet, adopted son of Bruce, third Robin to Batman, now Red Robin, part of the Teen Titans! All I see, all I know some days, is Timothy Jackson Drake, son of Jackson and Janet, protégé of Deathstroke, Beloved of Jason Todd al Ghul and member of the League of Assassin called the Dragon."
Looking at Tim, Slade knew that Tim would never blame Jason for what happened between them the previous night, because Tim blamed himself, for losing himself in the memories of this world's Tim.
"God, Slade..." Tim trailed off, looking at the towel in his hands. "I've slept with both men and women before, but last night...if that's what Jason and Tim had together, if that's what it was always like for them, how can I blame Jason for wanting one more night, or blame him for last night?"
That answered one question Slade had been partially wondering about.
"I need to get home. Before I stop being me. Before your Tim, Jason's Tim, is all that's left." Tim sighed. "I want to go home," he said softly.
Slade walked forward, pulling Tim into a hug. "We will get you home, kid."
Tim snorted. "We don't really know how I ended up here, Slade."
"But we will get you home. I promise."
Tim didn't say anything for a long time. When he finally pulled back, he looked at Slade. "Another round?"
Slade smiled, knowing Tim was hiding his feelings in the fight. "You're on."
Hours later, Slade picked up his communicator and dialed into a frequency he hadn't used in years. "Arsenal."
"Deathstroke," came the wary reply.
"I think we need to employ that contingency plan."
Slade could hear the smile in Harper's voice. "Just tell me when and where."
"Tonight. The docks." Slade looked at Oracle's mask on his computer screen. "I've got a plan."