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It was late in the evening when Dick returned to his simple apartment, turning his key in the creaking door, and stepping into the room sluggishly. He stumbled with sore legs as he made his way to the quaint little kitchen.
Standing there between the fridge and kitchen island, Dick let out a fatigued sigh. Just another long day of tending the grimy bar, turning away drunks, and keeping pervs from spiking the drinks.
Wanting to get off a layer of society’s alcohol-laced filth, he shrugged off his leather jacket and threw it behind him onto the floor. It’s future Dick’s problem to clean that up anyway.
Next he slid off his tank top gingerly, groaning at the ache between his shoulder blades. Looking down at the restrictive accessory along his chest, he let out a heavy exhale.
In an abrupt but necessary motion, he unclasped the belt-like harness around his torso that bound his expansive wings flat to his back. With a clink, the bindings met the marble counter, Dick placed a flat palm on the steady surface to ground himself through the incoming waves of pain.
Ever so slowly, he twitched his wings back to life, letting out low whines of discomfort. His paper-thin, fairy wings jerked in delay as they got used to their freedom once again. As they straightened out, Dick felt as if weights were placed on his shoulder blades instead of the usual feather-light feeling he normally enjoyed.
“Owww…” he whimpered breathlessly.
“You’re causing your own pain, you know that.” A stern, deep voice sounded from a particularly shadowy corner of his living room.
Dick whipped his head up to meet the steely blue eye of the mercenary. The man was not wearing his usual orange-black armored attire, but instead was fashioned in a much more casual ensemble; dark taut turtleneck and jeans. Of course no mask, him and Dick were very past the point of hiding their identities from one another anyway.
“Slade- I didn’t see you there.” He said through his teeth, not out of anger, but agonizing pain.
“I think you have other issues than me sneaking up on you. Although you could have easily been killed by any intruder given the current state you’re in.” The white haired man commented matter-of-factly, stepping forward and becoming more illuminated by the lights over the counter.
“Slade, it’s not really the time to scold me. You have no right to anyway.” Dick remarked as he watched the bigger man stroll around the island to stand directly in front of him.
While maintaining intimidating eye contact, Slade picked up the disregarded leather bindings and ran his slender fingers along it. Against his minds protest, Dick’s fairy wings fluttered at the closeness of the older man.
Leaning in even closer, the mercenary whispered deliberately against the shell of his ear. “I can do whatever I choose to. You should consider yourself lucky enough that I at least care enough to be concerned when you are consciously harming yourself, given that the other people you surround yourself with just stand by and watch it happen.”
The seemingly cold words snapped like twigs in Dick’s fatigued, dazed brain, awakening something more, something raging and fierce.
Overcome with fury and indignation, Dick drawled in breath to start yelling, but before he could do so, his wings responded by fanning out in a flurry, lifting him up from the ground only to stop short when the motion triggered shockwaves of pain throughout his whole body.
In a slow-motion panic, Dick realized he would soon be falling bruisingly onto his hardwood floors, probably hurting his wings even further. But, entirely against his assumption, strong arms wrapped around him and pulled until he landed upright, into a broad chest. Okay, he’ll admit that his face being cushioned against this was a lot better than the dusty floor.
The unmovable pillar that was Slade held his waist firm and kept balance for the both of them as Dick gasped against his chest and recovered from the spikes of agony. The stern man was even cautious to avoid touching the delicate wings, still twitching with aftershocks.
“Thanks.” Dick mumbled dejectedly against the muscular torso, tension from his body ebbing away as he leaned more of his weight on the older man.
“Let’s get you to bed. You need the rest.” Slade said in a much warmer tone, underlying compassion finally seeping into his voice. In response, Dick let out a pained groan and leaned impossibly closer into Slade’s hands.
“Okay…” Slade sighed, albeit slightly amused, “How about a massage and then rest? Will that make you feel better, Little Bird?”
With that offer, Dick instantly perked up, stepping away from the mercenary and practically skipping to his bedroom “You got yourself as deal!” He shouted mischievously, already disappearing past the doorway.
Just shaking his head, Slade glanced around the chaotic apartment, settling on the wing restricting harness. When will the kid just stop torturing himself?
——————-—
With a groan, Dick dove face first into bed, stomach resting on the twisted sheets.
“Ahh, I feel like I’ve been on my feet all day.” He shifted his arms around a pillow and complained to the side as he spotted Slade in the doorway.
“That’s because you’re so used to flying, it’s less strain on your ankles.” The older man commented, measuredly walking over just to kneel on the bed and work the tight boots off of Dick’s feet.
Dick cooed happily once he could wiggle his socked toes. “Thank you.”
Slade acknowledged it with a hum, moving on to the hero’s waistband.
“Ehh, I thought I was getting a massage and then some ‘needed rest’” Dick air-quoted sarcastically and glanced back at Slade with a quirked eyebrow.
“You are. I don’t think you want to be sleeping in these filthy jeans however.” He gestured at the slightly torn (not by stylistic choice), vaguely stained denim.
“Okay, I didn’t think of that.” Dick acquiesced easily, lifting his hips back to help the mercenary slide the tight fabric off.
Cold air hit his bare legs and he squirmed a bit in oversensitivity. Ever-observant, Slade immediately covered them with a spare, fluffy blanket.
The hero let out a sigh of appreciation, stretching out across the bed. His contented grumbles quickly turned to whimpers of pain when a certain movement tweaked at his cramping back muscles.
“I know. I know. It’ll get better, just relax.” Slade attempted to soothe, holding a flat palm firmly against the small of the younger’s back, keeping him still.
“H-hurts.” Dick choked out, burying his head into the pillow. His poor wings floated about in suspension, muscles too wound up to fully let them fall at his sides, hanging stuck in mid-air spasms.
Slade cautiously repositioned himself to straddle the hero’s legs, calling forth his shadow limbs, dark tentacles extending from his back.
The cephalopod tentacles were a deep onyx black, forged completely of shadows yet tangible enough to interact with the physical world. The longest ones reached around his waist to hover above Dick’s back, ready to help in whatever way they can.
“Might be cold.” Slade warned before he willed them to touch the pale skin.
Although he was fully prepared for the feeling, Dick still couldn’t hold back a flinch at the cool sensation of the tentacles slime. The thick limbs casually stroked clear trails up and down his taut muscles, spreading it out like lotion to ease the massage.
“Umphh-” Dick moaned into a pillow, fighting the urge to arch off the bed at the strange touch.
“Easy... Don’t tense up, it’ll just trigger your wings to flutter again.” Slade rested back on his heels and let his tentacles do their work, slowly massaging the tightest of muscles.
Dick obediently listened and kept still to his best capability, eventually melting further into the bed as the feeling of smooth tentacles along his skin became familiar.
The stale air of his apartment was silent except for the younger’s gasping breathes and short moans, so Slade decided to fill it by singing a soft tune in Russian.
Although Dick didn’t understand a single lyric, he enjoyed the comforting sound and closed his tired eyes to it. Times like these brought his mind back to Wayne manor. His adoptive father humming to him songs of his youth as he patched up Dick’s wounds from a night out on patrol.
The slick drag of a tentacle nearing the edge connecting his wings to his shoulder blades jolted him back to the present.
“Ahhh- No-“ Panicked, he pushed himself up on shaky forearms, the shadow tentacles relenting immediately, even though they both knew who was stronger.
“You’re okay.” Slade calmed, reaching over to place a warm palm against Dick’s neck, also secretly checking his pulse. “Just sensitive there tonight, hmm?”
The hero nodded hesitantly, heart pumping and eyes still a little watery from the sudden pain.
“You’ll feel better once I’ve actually gotten to your wings, but we can take a break here if you need.”
“N-no… I can do it, fuck.” Dick swore into his hands, wings twitching in distress.
“I’ll start at the tips?” Slade mused thoughtfully, searching for an alternative solution.
“-Might work.” Dick mumbled, lowering himself back onto his chest. In a last minute decision, he reached one hand behind him and was met with the firm grip of Slade’s callused one.
Tentatively, the tentacles’ touch returned, this time sliding over the very tips of his midnight, black and blue fairy wings. The sensation was much more distant from his body there, pain burning from his core and fading as it traveled farther through his wings.
One flatter tentacle focused on keeping the weakened wings supported as the others maneuvered delicately over the veiny see-through sections, soothing and dulling as they went.
The frictionless drag of Slade’s shadow limbs always carried a certain calming affect over Dick, and now he definitely could just fall asleep with the mercenary watching his back, quite literally in this sense.
For most of his life, he couldn’t help but feel extremely protective over his wings, understandably so, considering his past with other villains who tried to maim or take advantage of his fae abilities.
In the beginning of their complicated relationship, Dick couldn’t even stand the idea of anyone feeling up his wings so intimately. However, as the mutual respect and trust grew between them, he found himself craving Slade’s hands or tentacles on his body, all of it, more often than he found himself urging to shy away.
Never would the most fragilely unique part of him be crushed under the weight of his lover’s cold-blooded hands. Instead, anyone who dares to touch him wrongly would be broken in a thousand pieces on site.
Even with his less-than-moral thoughts, Dick was slowly being pulled towards peaceful unconsciousness, the long day of aches and pains catching up to him.
Slade’s tentacles massaged their way further down the drooping wings, once again reaching the connection point between skin and chitin. Such proximity brought that wave of discomfort surging right back, but this time it was at least less akin to fire licking at his wounds.
Suddenly restless, Dick raised himself up on an elbow, in spite of his protesting muscles. He hung his head low and gritted his teeth together to bite back the shuddering noises that threatened to spill out.
“You’ll pace yourself next time, yeah?” Slade requested with a frown, one hand reaching over to comfortingly squeeze at the back of his lover’s neck.
“I can’t- do much. I still have to hide them.” Dick breathed out, tipping his forehead to rest on his arm as Slade’s fingers worked his neck.
“This part of you has always been beautiful, Little Bird. You should never have to hide them.”
Those words never ceased to hurt and heal at the same time, Dick’s heart clenching at Slade’s blunt and assuring nature.
“You know I don’t have much of a choice.” The hero mumbled weakly into his arm, throat becoming tight.
“Everyone knows what Nightwing looks like. That Nightwing has very distinct fairy wings… I mean you can’t miss it…” He laughed bitterly to himself, shaking his head at the situation.
“If I allowed myself to be fully free in my citizen attire, I’d risk my identity being found out.” He explained bluntly, eyes suddenly becoming watery at the thought of not having to bind anymore. Of being himself without having to be in the Nightwing suit.
“You can hide. I can’t.” His resolve snapped, tears spilling onto his pillowcase. His whole body shook with his sobs, wings convulsing against tentacles.
It was all true. Being a shadow monster meant that Slade could pick and choose when the darkest extensions of himself were present. Being a fairy meant that Dick couldn’t do that, always forced to either hide away or acknowledge his fae-like nature to those who can obviously see his difference from everyone else.
’It wasn’t freaking fair.’
“I know, kid, I know.” Slade responded to the spoken thought, sounding sad and almost mournful. The shadow tentacles then disappeared and were replaced with strong arms, effortlessly pulling Dick up and turning him around.
Now facing each other, the mercenary’s thumb brushed over a trembling lip, gently moving to tilt Dick’s chin up to make steady eye-contact.
Even distraught, Dick felt compelled to show bravery and meet Slade’s line of sight with his own red-rimmed, wide eyes. Although eye-contact with the stern man was often intimidating, the now softened gaze of the elder had him instantly melting into him for a heavy embrace.
Careful to allow the stressed wings breathing room, Slade wrapped his arms around the crying youth and tugged him further to lie on top of his lap.
With tears streaming down his face and onto Slade’s turtleneck, Dick felt the comforting warmth radiating from his lover’s body as he held him close.
The mercenary had to always come across as internally cold, heartless, and empty just like shadows are, but moments like these had Dick believing the opposite. Maybe it was just his own inner light that made the shadows seem a lot less scarier, who knows.
“C-can you stay over for the night?.. as much as I want to stretch out and fly, I don’t think patrol is the best activity for me right now.”
“Of course, Little Bird," Slade responded genuinely, brushing a gentle hand through Dick's smooth, black hair. “The city will hold up just fine while you’re gone.”
“Well, I am getting one of the main causes of crime off the streets tonight.” Dick commented cheekily, planting a playful kiss on Slade’s nose.
The soft smile he got in return made the elder look even kinder, less rough around his already jagged edges.
Tucking his face back into Slade’s broad chest, Dick took a deep breath of the man’s cologne and let the dusky scent wash over him. Now back under his control, his wings started to casually flitter back and forth, occasionally brushing up against Slade’s cheek.
The sluggish movement brought peace to his body, finally closing his blue eyes when he felt the tips of the mercenary’s fingers massaging a circular pattern into his upper thigh. Then, a shadow tentacle slunk around his waist to securely hold him tight and all the tension instantly broke away.
Dick laid limp and pliant in his lover’s lap, taking steady breaths and resting his exhausted, worn body against the stern muscular one. Ever aware of his growing fatigue, Slade weightlessly lifted him up and arranged him down onto his side, calculatingly so as to not bend the delicate wings in an uncomfortable way.
The apprehensive hero was just about to muster up enough strength to complain before Slade laid down in front of him, replacing a tentacle with his arms and pulling him by the waist. The sleepy embrace was enough for Dick to momentarily forget the awfulness of the day and ignore the ache between his shoulders.
“‘Feels nice.” He sighed happily, nuzzling his nose into the elder’s now bare chest.
When had he had the time to go shirtless? Not that he’s complaining however…
“Maybe I should come by more often Little Bird, stop you from hurting yourself so much.” Slade half-joked, running his hand up and down the younger’s spine.
“If my pain gets me more of those tentacle massages, I’m in.” Dick quipped, giddily wiggling in his hold.
“You can have me and my tentacles anytime you want, you just have to learn how to ask.” Slade fixed him with an amused stare, one eyebrow lifted in a challenge.
“Ohhh… Oh.” Dick blushed hard at the implication of using his lover and his helpful appendages just by asking politely for it. “I’ll have to try that sometime.”
“Mhm. Not tonight, you need rest.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Dick snuggled impossibly closer to him, heart swooping when the arms around him tightened in response. “This is enough for me right now.”
Slade leaned in to kiss the younger’s bare forehead. “Goodnight, Little Bird. Fly high in your dreams tonight, you deserve it.”
“‘Night Slade, sleep tight shadows.” Dick reached a hand around to Slade’s back, taking note of the scattered connections between the man and his shadow limbs. A thin tentacle then wrapped around his index finger and stayed with him as he dozed off into a blissful sleep.