A/N: Alrighty, so I am still alive! I know there was a good few months where there was no updating... but I'm here now, and I come bearing Sladin! I know that I said one or two chapters earlier, but this story seems to have taken on a life of its own and has suddenly become four or five more chapters... Hope you're here for the long-run!
Longest chapter yet, my lambs!
Ashes of Paradise
Chapter 5: Bending and Breaking
Robin stared at him for a moment before his pink lips twitched and he was suddenly giggling. His giggles escalated until he was almost doubled over and there were tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He removed his hands from Slade's and wiped at the beading moisture, his laughter dying down.
"I am sorry," he gasped, but his grin showed that he wasn't purely apologetic. "It is just that... you want me to run away!"
Slade's brows furrowed, unsure of how to go about this. He sure as hell wasn't expecting an amused reaction. Perhaps part of him had hoped that Robin would have thrown himself on the bed and begged for his hero to take him, but he crushed that little voice until it evaporated. This was not a trashy romance novel. This was reality, and, in all honesty, he found it easy to lose interest in that deprived fantasy. Looking at the boy, all Slade really wanted was for Robin to smile again, because fuck, he was beautiful when he tossed his head back like that and laughed so freely.
"Well, I told you that it wasn't much of a plan yet..." Slade mumbled, somewhat defensively. Robin noticed the change in his demeanor and touched his arm, rising up on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek with gentle lips.
"It is a wonderful plan, crazy man," the prince said, lowering his azure gaze. "It is just not realistic. I cannot simply pick up and leave! This is my kingdom, Slade! At least it will be..."
"And I understand that," Slade replied, trying to reason with the teen, "but the man is just using you, Robin. You're his son, not some... some plaything!"
"I am not his son!" Robin shouted in a sudden bout of uncharacteristic anger, causing the American to step back slightly. "I am not his son..." His voice dropped. "My parents were killed when I was eight years old. I was an orphan, a broken child unable to fend for himself... yet Bruce Wayne accepted me without expecting a single thing in return. He provided me with shelter and food and love. He gave me a life that only existed in my dreams. I owe him everything... I cannot deny him his wishes."
"That's ridiculous!" Slade blurted. When Robin's expression darkened drastically, the general was quick to explain himself. "He may have taken you in during your time of need, but that doesn't give him the right to throw you away when his funds run low. He is your father, blood relation or not, and a father does not sell his son. He doesn't care what happens to you, Robin!"
Robin remained silent, choking under the words that hung thick and heavy in the warm air. His shoulders fell, and Slade could see the boy withdrawing, closing himself off and shutting Slade out. His blue eyes flicked away, moving to look at the vibrant leaves that swayed and danced in the desert breeze outside the window.
He had hurt the boy's feelings, Slade realized. He had forced Robin to confront a fact he had been pushing away for what could have been many years, a fact that Robin refused to accept. This caused the Gothamite to fall behind his mask, his eyes lit with a sudden chill that seemed so out of place in those expressive orbs.
"I think it would be best if you were to leave."
Slade frowned at the whispered statement, studying Robin's face. His lips were pressed into a thin line and his eyes were rimmed with hot tears he refused to shed in the presence of his current company. His fingers were curled into fists at his side, and Slade felt the sudden urge to grab them, to reassure Robin that he was only trying to help.
But right now he was only hindering.
Giving a curt nod, Slade strode out the door, leaving Robin frozen behind him.
Angered at having been called out on his meticulously crafted charade, Robin threw himself onto his bed, driving a fist into one of the pillows. He knew Slade was right, knew it in his mind, but he could not bring his heart to believe it. His heart wanted nothing more than to find Bruce and crawl into his strong arms, feel that once-present safety and contentment.
How long had it been since he felt that way?
A very long time, Robin decided as he curled up on his side, tucking his arm beneath the pillow on which his head rested. He had discovered a certain sense of fear since the incident with Red, but he had hidden it behind his mask of serenity. Of course it had always been there, that underlying wariness and anxiety, but he had brushed it off. He could not show his father that he was worried. It would only spark that familiar suspicion, and the last thing Robin wanted was for Bruce to realize that said suspicion was appropriate, that something secretive was indeed going on within the walls of his own palace.
He had made a mistake with Red. The young man had been there, an escape from the rich, haughty society in which he presided. He was simple and refreshing, a bright ray of sunshine in Robin's otherwise darkened world. He had taken that light and clung to it, letting the hope of acceptance and escape wash over him. Red would hold him, love him, tell him how much he was worth, and that was something Robin needed when all he seemed to be worth to Bruce was half a kingdom and a dozen chickens.
Unfortunately, Red had been dragged into Gotham's revolting underworld and been taught firsthand that money truly was everything. He had fought tooth and nail for Robin, and the prince would be forever grateful to his spirit, but he had lost in the end, just as society dictated he would, because he was a servant, and a servant could not defy his king.
After Red, Robin finally uncovered the deep, dark secret that his adoptive father had been hiding. He wanted to sell the boy, and, to Robin, that was the ultimate betrayal. After having one family torn away from him, he was not willing to lose another. He would do anything to protect the ones he loved, even give his own life, if need be, but throwing away one's kin?
Such a disgusting world, Robin reflected. This society was built on fear and lies, and it terrified him. This was not his nature, his home. He was raised on the side of the road, his little family having always been on the move. He thrived under warm praise and affection, which was plentiful within the family of three, and that had once been something that Bruce had been more than willing to give.
But the past was past.
Was the whole world like this? In Robin's mind, it couldn't possibly be, not with people like Slade out there. The man was amazing. He protected what he loved and fought with all he had. He was gorgeous and brilliant, yet even with such mental strength and physical refinement, he managed to remain humble. In Robin's eyes, he was a god.
But what of Robin? He was but a lowly orphan sheltered behind the golden walls of a two-faced king. Why would handsome, honorable Slade care for him? He was a charity case, a liability to all those around him. He had once been so strong, so proud and fearless, but that had all been stripped away from him the day that Italian lord laid eyes on his parents.
Why was he allowed nothing?
Pathetic. Pity will do you no good.
Zucco may have stolen his family's lives, and Bruce may have erased his family's name, but he would not quit. He was a Grayson, and Graysons did not go down without a fight.
Robin wiped his tears away.
Slade once again found himself wandering through the courtyard, boots dragging against the white limestone path. The sun smiled down on him with enthusiasm, making him wonder how it could shine so happily when the world of a young boy was slowly crumbling down around him.
He felt guilt bubble up in his chest at the thought of Robin's devastated baby-blues. He hadn't meant to upset the teen, really he hadn't, but the topic of Bruce Wayne and his shady transactions was apparently a very sensitive point. Slade wasn't sure how to go about bringing the topic up without Robin flashing that filthy temper of his.
He cared about the prince, Slade reluctantly admitted to himself. It was slightly scary, knowing that it took a meager two days for him to fall under Robin's spell. What would happen within the two weeks that negotiations were spread across? Would he make love to the blue-eyed beauty? Propose? He had already been married once, and that had certainly ended poorly.
Robin was a wonderful boy, and any man to have him would be one lucky son of a bitch. At the tender age of eighteen, the raven-haired Gothamite was breathtaking, a delicious addition to his intelligence and humor. His grace and dignified poise drew Slade in like no one before ever had, and it was a bit unnerving to the white-haired male. He was not known for being a social person in general, let alone a man of stable relationships or intimacy.
Slade sighed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trousers.
What could he do now? He had tried to enlighten Robin to the situation he was currently buried in, only to find that the teen was well aware the details. It was obvious to the man that Robin's denial towards his father's two-timing ways were causing him a good amount of pain. Those bluer-than-blue eyes, as bright and optimistic as they were, held endless untold sorrows. It was sad really, seeing such youthful orbs deepened with unfortunate pain that came only with inhumane treatment.
Another sigh escaped his sun-parched lips.
Wintergreen looked up from his book when a knock sounded at his door. Surprised and wondering who was visiting him in his borrowed chambers, he marked his page and set the leather-bound book onto the small table between the chairs of the lounge. He straightened his tunic and brushed his hair back before pulling the door open, a smile on his face.
The man's face fell as his eyes met those of the timid-looking prince.
"Ah, hello, William," Robin said, voice soft. "Are you... are you busy?"
"Uh, no," Wintergreen said, voice tinged with worry as he looked the boy up and down. "Please, come in."
Stepping aside, Will invited Robin into his quarters. The teen shuffled into the lounge and tentatively took a seat, tangling his fingers together as he watched Wintergreen do the same. They sat in silence for a few moments, the elder allowing the younger a few moments to collect his thoughts.
"I..." Robin paused, suddenly tongue-tied. "I have... had a recent revelation..."
"Oh?" Wintergreen raised a brow, gently urging the royal-blooded bird on before he could lose his nerve and shut him out.
"Yes," the eighteen-year-old nodded, eyes locked firmly onto the stone floor that chilled his bare feet. "General Slade... he has spoken to me and... he has forced me to acknowledge an issue I have been trying to avoid for a very long time."
"Slade?" William sighed in exasperation. "Anything that man has told you, just-"
"No, William, please!" Robin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes as the blond fell silent. He took a deep breath before folding his hands back in his lap. "It was not Slade's fault. He was simply trying to assist me in seeing the error of my ways."
"Is this... is this about your father?" Wintergreen asked, sounding somewhat unsure of himself. The American adviser knew that Robin had a tendency to get quite upset when Bruce was brought up. The man was a sore spot, the most tender after the boy's parents.
"It is," Robin confirmed, his voice strong. "I have realized that... perhaps Gotham is not the most appropriate place for me. I do not wish to be given away to a man I do not know, let alone love, and that is exactly what will happen to me if I remain in this palace."
"Robin, please consider-"
"William, I am dying here," the prince pleaded, and Wintergreen knew he was doomed to crumble when those huge blue eyes landed on him. He could see the exhaustion, the shattered faith that swam in the ocean-deep depths, and it broke his heart to see such a young face marked with the tragedies most adults would never face.
Wintergreen sighed and dragged his hand through his short blond hair. He leaned back in his chair and carefully examined the desert-dweller before him. He had known Robin since he was eight, back when Bruce Wayne had first drawn the devastated child into his home after the loss of his parents. Those ten years, dotted with visits to check in on the kingdom and its newest inhabitant, gifted him with the ability to read Robin like a book. He was good at hiding his feelings, but only to certain people. He was destined to reveal his insides to his two beloved servants and William himself, and now it seemed as if Slade had managed to weasel his way into the barricaded group.
He cared about this child. Though he had spent a majority of the ten years in his own country, he had still watched the little bird grow, watched him spread his wings, and Robin was the pride and joy of the entire kingdom. He hated to see his energetic, optimistic outlook dulled by many years of deprivation and disappointment.
"What did you have in mind?" Will sighed when he finished processing the situation.
"I... I do not know," Robin admitted, fiddling with the hem of his sheer white robes. "Slade came to me, and he offered to bring me with you to America, but... but I am not sure." He gripped his head in both hands for a moment before running his fingers through his midnight-colored hair. "I am not sure of anything anymore. William, please tell me what to do..." His voice cracked as frustration dripped from his lips.
"Robin..." Wintergreen's brows creased as he watched the brokenhearted boy released his bottled emotions. He moved from his chair to Robin's, sitting on the arm and drawing Robin into his side. The doe-eyed prince curled into him, fingers clinging to his cotton tunic with all the strength he could muster.
"I do not like this feeling, William," the teen choked out, violent sobs wracking his thin frame.
Wintergreen bit his tongue and held the trembling form closer. He knew that Robin had not cried since Red's disappearance, knew that Robin would not allow himself the luxury of tears when the one he loved had no life from which tears could stem. He was a selfless, kindhearted creature, but sometimes it was to the point of foolishness, and Will would be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat pleased that Robin finally faced all that his adoptive father was doing.
"You don't have to feel like this anymore," Wintergreen said, feeling a stab of guilt and reluctance in his chest. Was he really going to aid his old friend's son in running away?
"Tell me..." Robin whispered, pressing his cheek into Will's side and gazing up at him with soulful eyes. A light flickered within the dimmed crystals, a simple spark of hope.
"I'm not going to tell you to do anything," Wintergreen said firmly, squeezing Robin to him. "You don't need me to say anything, because we both know you'll do what you want, whether I approve or not." He smiled when Robin laughed, pleased that his playfully posed words held the tears at bay, if only for a moment. "All I ask is that you think this through before you do anything rash. I know all about the imp under that sweet exterior," Will tapped a finger against Robin's nose, "and I also know that that imp tends to be quite headstrong."
Robin wiped his eyes, a small smile playing across his lips. He looked up at Wintergreen with an expression that shone with gratitude and affection.
"You always know what to say, William," he said with a simper. "So eloquent."
"Well, I wouldn't say eloquent," the blond grinned, softening. "But thank you, Robin. You'll think about what I said?"
Robin allowed a tiny smile to flicker over his gentle features, thinking back to an adolescent ritual in America that Wintergreen had taught him when he was just eight years old. He reached out to link their pinkies together, drawing a larger smile to Will's face.
"Why don't you go with your girls for awhile?" Wintergreen suggested, patting Robin's head. "I'll talk to Slade and see what that fool had in mind for his master plan. He's probably drowning in anxiety right now..."
Robin smiled and nodded.
He needed to go back to Robin, Slade realized with a groan. He didn't fare well under awkward conditions, and the confrontation they would soon have would most definitely be awkward. After thinking long and hard, he had discovered a fresh affection that wrapped around the young prince. This discovery led to a particularly surprising string of other discoveries, most notably a vivid attraction to the boy.
If that wasn't awkward, he didn't know what was.
Slade scowled and scuffed his boot against the ground in a show of bad humor before continuing on his way. The massive palace continued to impress him, so the man took his time exploring the sprawling estate, mapping out more and more of the stone halls in his head. This was a new corridor, empty of other rooms save for a set of massive double-doors he was aware led to the meeting hall and the archways that opened up to the outside.
As he passed the wooden doors that were hinged halfway down the corridor, Slade was caught by the familiar voice of Bruce Wayne. The king must have been in the meeting hall, perhaps consulting with his own advisers and council about the treaty. It seemed a but early, though, as negotiations were not until the following week.
Slowing his pace, Slade leaned a bit closer to the doors. Though he was a very honorable and honest man, Slade Wilson was not above eavesdropping, especially when something as major as a potential national security breech was involved. Underneath 'honorable and honest' lay 'semi-paranoid and wary'. While Wintergreen trusted Gotham's ruler, Slade did not, and the last thing he needed was Bruce two-timing them for his own gain. Slade prided himself on being a good judge of character, and Bruce had a liar's eyes, something that did nothing to ease his worry.
"-on't know if we should trust that General Wilson."
It seemed that the suspicion went both ways.
"He is quite close to William Wintergreen."
"Yes, but William is not the one ogling my son."
And the plot thickens...
Slade shook his head and turned, having heard enough to realize that Bruce may not be plotting against America, but that he was simply a selfish man blinded by his own wealth. Unfortunate, the one-eyed man mused, as Bruce would have made a much better king had he been more aware of others.
Continuing down the hall, Slade wandered where he would find Robin. The boy had full reign over an entire palace that seemed large enough to span the length of Jump City itself. If Robin didn't want to be found, he certainly wouldn't be. With countless rooms to hide in and half the Amazon Rainforest blossoming in the courtyard, the elusive little bird would be tough to catch.
If there was one thing Slade Wilson loved, it was a challenge.
Two hours and he had yet to find Robin.
"Sneaky little bastard..." Slade grumbled under his breath as he cautiously peeked into yet another chamber. He had been a bit hesitant since he walked straight into that shower room...
Turning into yet another corridor, Slade was relieved to find Wintergreen speaking to one of the many servants that roamed the palace. He briskly made his way over, reaching the other man just as he bid the tan-skinned servant farewell.
"Where is Robin?" Slade asked, voice clipped with irritation.
William paused and raised a blond brow at his friend's rushed breathing and mussed hair. Ever since his friend had gotten the ridiculous idea of prince-napping in his head, he had been rushing about everywhere. Unfortunately, Will was well aware that ideas such as that tended to get trapped beneath that thick skull, present until executed.
"He's down the hall." He frowned before adding cautiously, "Why?"
Slade pushed past him, immediately stalking towards the large double-doors at the end of the corridor. His strides were long and purposeful, a testament to his determination, and Wintergreen hurried after him.
"Hey!" Wintergreen grabbed Slade by the bicep, turning him around. "What the hell is going on?"
"This place takes up the whole goddamn country!" Slade snarled, throwing his arms up and out of Will's grasp. "I need to speak to Robin now."
"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't go in there," the fair-haired man interjected, stepping into his path. After hearing what Robin had to say about the two males' earlier argument, Wintergreen knew how much they needed to sit down and sort things out, but the prince somehow knew Slade would come after him, so he had issued William strict orders to keep Slade away, giving them both some time to cool off.
"And why the hell not?"
Slade growled impatiently and shouldered his adviser aside, ignoring his angered demands for explanation behind him. He slammed his hands flat to the wood of the doors and pushed the open, muscles bulging under the weight.
A thick pulse of warm air rolled over him as the doors swung on their hinges, revealing the large room they hid. The domed ceiling was impossibly high and supported with arcs of sturdy wood that curved along the stone. The air, heavy with the scent of spicy incense, hung like a blanket around him, heating his lungs and sparking a subtle burn in his nostrils. A deep, exotic melody wrapped around him, consisting of thundering drumbeats and twanging notes. Candles were mounted along the walls and grouped together along the raised platforms that created the stairs circling the room, casting a warm glow over the inhabitants. Slade could make out the forms of broad-shouldered men with various instruments, only a few of which he recognized, along with three others that danced along the lowest area of the mosaic stone floor.
Slade's eye widened.
Robin twisted and twirled with his two servants, his flawless skin a radiant caramel under the candles' amber light. The little flames sent shadows curling around the room, contributing a certain sense of unnerving, otherworldly beauty to the dance. The trio's robes swirled about as they sung, voices dipping and rising as they shifted fluidly through the slow, sensual dance.
Slade was instantly mesmerized, eye locked onto the rocking hips of Gotham's young prince. The bewitching movements, coupled with the heady aroma of incense sent arousal tearing through his veins. Robin's voice was an aphrodisiac to him, seducing him through sound and drawing him in like a starving man to pabulum.
"Do you dare interrupt?" Wintergreen's low voice chuckled in his ear.
Blinking slowly, Slade remained silent, watching with rapt attention as Robin and his two servants slipped into what he assumed was the last sequence of the dance, judging by the quick movements that suggested an abrupt end. Robin's voice rose and fell in pitch, warbling like the little bird he was as he curled his arms upwards and rolled his hips in smooth, practiced motions. The light highlighted his beautiful body, barely clothed in what appeared to be a jeweled loincloth, shadows pooling into the dips and arches of his muscles and bones. The colorful gems that studded the thick leather belt of his covering caught the flickering light, drawing attention to his toned midsection.
With one final sweep of his delectable hips, Robin ended the dance, the ritual punctuated with a strong boom from the chande drums. Gently circling his arms around him before pressing his palms together before his heart, Robin bowed in time with the two women at his sides. His lips curled into a grin, and the Gothamites all abandoned their instruments in favor of clapping and laughing, the silence shattered with their passion. Robin threw his arms up and spun on his toes, the thin gold chains woven into his belt jingling merrily.
"What was that?" Slade breathed, breaking from his trance.
"That is called dancing, sir," Wintergreen informed him helpfully, lips twitching as he attempted not to smile at his friend's blatant awe.
"I know that, William," the white-haired general said. "I meant, why?"
"It is simply for exercise and amusement. Have you never felt the urge to dance, sir?"
"Not really," Slade mumbled. "But it's so complex... if he wanted to dance, why couldn't he do it without his servants and musicians?"
"Well, wouldn't you feel silly dancing without music?" Wintergreen said simply, green eyes sparkling with knowing.
As Slade opened his mouth to reply, a voice called, "General!"
"Seems you may speak with him now, sir," Wintergreen said, taking his leave with a small, encouraging smile towards the man.
Slade looked back to see Robin break away from the group, flushed and positively glowing with energy. He was gorgeous, and the American suddenly felt a bit of nervousness coil in his stomach. Would Robin still be angry with him?
"Ah, General," the boy said, somewhat breathlessly, as he scampered up the few steps. He stopped before Slade, fumbling to straighten his loincloth and hair. He was blushing furiously, flustered by the state of his sexily disheveled hair and attire.
"Your Majesty," Slade greeted, knowing that the raven-haired teen disliked such formalities. Robin didn't seem upset anymore, so the man thought that he could get away with a bit of teasing. Maybe it would even break the ice a bit and give way to a smooth conversation instead of another battle.
Robin just humphed, lips pursing in strategically veiled amusement.
Slade chuckled and shook his head, appreciating the dull candles. He was worried that his tented trousers would have became much more apparent had there been proper lighting. He was managing to evade the wariness that pressured them from their earlier argument, and the last thing he wanted was to spoil the moment with added sexual tension.
While Slade thanked the melting candles, Robin thanked the gods above. He rejoiced, pleased that the two males' disagreement seemed to have been put behind them. While he was not a full-blown pacifist, he preferred to avoid confrontation whenever possible, mainly being the one to smooth rough patches over.
"So I... I was hoping that maybe you would have time to talk?" Slade asked him, almost hesitantly.
"Ah, y-yes," Robin replied quickly, a bit embarrassed at the eagerness in his voice. The last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself, and he seemed to be doing just that. "Of course."
"Great. Should we, uh... go to your room, or...?"
"Oh." The prince blinked, a bit uncomfortable by the question. While he knew Slade wasn't proposing anything sexual, he still couldn't help but imagine one or two less than innocent situations that could stem from the two of them stepping foot into any room with a bed. "Yes! Yes, that is fine... private..." Wow, he regretted those words.
Slade frowned a bit at his awkwardness, no doubt wondering why the poor boy was blushing so deeply and seemed to be trying to disappear straight into the stone floor. He eyed him oddly before brushing the forming tension aside and hoping it wouldn't grow.
Sweeping his arm out in an exaggerated gesture for Robin to step ahead of him, Slade grinned. That grin, so handsome on his chiseled face, eased Robin's discomfort, and he moved his fingers from where they were picking self-consciously at the belt of his loincloth.
He returned Slade's smile with one of his own, then took the liberty of leading the general down the hall to his chambers. He seemed irritated with the winding corridors, and Robin somehow knew that Slade had gotten lost somewhere along the way. Robin ignored the fact that the man was blatantly searching for him.
They walked in silence that could almost be called companionable, each lost in their own thoughts. Robin worried over what he was going to tell Slade and how, while Slade combed through various things he could say to convince Robin to join him. Neither knew what they were actually going to do.
"Uh, so..." Slade paused as he lowered himself into one of the chairs in the lounge.
Robin closed the double-doors behind them before turning to peer at Slade with a light smile. He clasped his hands in front of him, twisting his fingers together.
"So...?" he prompted gently, eyes flicking over to where Garfield was laying on his bed, having woken from a nap when the couple walked into the room. The giant feline blinked lazily at him, and Robin knew that he was also watching Slade carefully from his keen peripheral.
The two males stared at each other for a few minutes, unsure of what to say and afraid to make the situation worse with more poorly chosen words.
"Well, I feel appropriately awkward..." Slade murmured.
Robin, having not heard the man, moved over to the wooden chest in front of his bed. He flicked the golden latch open and lifted the heavy top. He dug around inside until he found an outfit before pushing the jewel-studded belt from his hips, the cloth and leather pooling at his feet.
Slade's eye widened, words dying on his lips.
The prince held the white robes out before him, eying them with an appraising gaze. He nodded in approval and turned to Slade, acting as if he wasn't naked.
"I have spoken with William," Robin informed him, walking past Slade's stiff form and into the adjoined bathroom.
"Oh yeah?" Slade said, voice somewhat strained as he watched Robin through the open door as he fixed his hair in the mirror, his soft body slender and toned and exquisite.
"Mhmm," came the hum. Robin made his way back out of the bathroom, his midnight-colored tresses significantly neater than before.
"And what did you two talk about?" While Slade tried to make the question sound casual, it came out much more intrusive than he would have liked. It didn't help that Robin was standing before him, as naked as the day he was born.
"You," Robin replied easily as he stretched his arms upwards, slipping into the airy white robes.
Slade felt rather disappointed as the Gothamite's lovely body was covered by the thin, sheer layers. After the initial disappointment, though, came scolding. He had told himself he would wait for Robin to make a move, if he was interested, of course.
"Me?" he inquired, and Robin shot him an amused look.
"You..." the young prince confirmed in a voice that was almost a purr.
Robin tied his usual golden chains around his waist before fixing Slade with sparkling aquamarine eyes. He sashayed over to where the general was seated and stopped before him, their knees touching. He smirked, almost loudly, and Slade suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline at the utter rebellion in those gorgeous baby-blues.
Robin kissed him.
A/N: Well, I normally don't like my endings, but this one I enjoy. I don't know why I added dancing... I just happened to be listening to Jai Ho by the Pussycat Dolls and bam! Instant sexy-Robin. Seriously, though, if you find the time, YouTube that song and imagine Robin singing and dancing to it. Maybe someone out there will be able to appreciate the image as much as I do... ;)
I know that that whole thing with Robin's parents is a bit vague and confusing right now, but there will actually be more of an explanation later, I promise. All I can tell you now is that Zucco and the Graysons will appear to give some backstory to this AU-Robin. Took me a bit to figure something out, as I've tried to keep this background as accurate as possible when compared to the DC multiverse, but I finally got something that I think you guys'll enjoy.
Anyway, I must be off to study for my midterms tomorrow!