Chapter Text
No one knew Jason still had nightmares.
He hated feeling cold, buried under the earth, forgotten and shivering—alive.
He hated feeling helpless. Unable to stop Joker from torturing him through the night, his voice hoarse and ragged upon waking.
He hated feeling abandoned, pretending the hurt was fine until he was somewhere safer.
Jason was trained to be a shadow; he didn’t know how to ask for help.
It was as simple as recognizing you have a craving, but Jason didn’t know what he wanted so badly. Maybe it was dissatisfaction—or maybe he just wanted pizza. But when the craving hit, he felt a physical ache.
For the warmth of being remembered.
The weight of feeling protected.
And the steady sound of a heartbeat from a warm embrace.
Jason was devastated to learn how much he loved a good cuddle.
As a child, Jason sometimes slept close to his mom. She didn’t hold him but being near was enough, he thought.
At the manor, Bruce would sit next to his bed when he had a bad dream. He’d cradle Jason’s face in his hands if he woke up crying. To soothe him, Bruce would read him a classic book while running a steady hand through his hair. It was far from cuddling, but Jason would never let this go. Because most of his memories of Bruce were blurred by bruises and rage.
It happened once when Jason was Robin. Dick was visiting the manor when Jason caught the flu. Even though he was sweating through his clothes, Dick insisted on smothering him. Jason was annoyed. He was already in bed and not in the mood to wrestle because he was too tired. His older brother asked, “Is this okay?” And pulled him into a hug. Jason fought back initially then nodded, feeling less cold. With Dick’s arms wrapped around him, the chills hurt less. Jason began to cry because he didn’t know what a cuddle was until now. He didn’t know he needed this.
Jason still remembered the warmth, the weight, and the sound of Dick murmuring, "You’re safe now, Little Wing."
"All you have to do is ask," said Dick. But Jason, trapped inside that warehouse, realized he would never get another chance.
Identifying the craving wasn’t too difficult. Knowing how to achieve it was easier said than done.
A cuddle required two people. Jason’s job was to find the second. Dick surrounded himself with others; he was never available. Bruce and Jason rarely spoke; Bruce was constantly blaming him. Tim, addicted to coffee, never slept; he was always too busy. Steph had school; she could use the extra time to study. Her words, not his. Damian was a child; it wasn’t Jason’s job to teach him how to cuddle. Cass wasn't known for affection, which didn’t bother either of them, but Jason couldn’t face one more rejection. Beneath his hard shell, Jason was more than just a ball of fire to be left, to extinguish, alone.
With the bats already off the table, he considered his old teammates. Kori, however, was always off-planet. Roy needed space to solve his own issues, but Jason missed him more than he would ever dare to admit.
Jason could hire someone.
Deathstroke likes money, right?
Deathstroke’s code demanded him to be discreet, and unlike Dick, Slade had no real connection to him. Jason didn’t want to deal with awkward interactions, knowing he’d have to see Dick whenever the "family" got together. Meeting Slade on the field was rare and could easily be avoided. That alone made the mercenary a better choice. Because Jason could keep his personal life a secret. Why the fuck not?
Shaken by the sudden epiphany, Jason threw off the blankets that covered him and scrambled out of bed. He snatched one of his multiple burner phones and rushed to the kitchen where his laptop was charging.
Jason pulled up Slade Wilson's file where cases and contingency plans were stored, but he only wanted a certain bit of information. Jason paused when he spotted what he was looking for—Deathstroke’s work number.
While Red Hood's database wasn’t as up-to-date as the Bat’s, there was—probably—no harm in trying. He typed the digits into his burner phone and hit "call".
It rang five times before Jason heard a soft click.
“Deathstroke speaking.” There was a deep growl beneath the words.
The number actually worked—he couldn’t quite believe it—Jason had Deathstroke on the line.
Jason thought it best to reveal his identity sooner than later, but at the same time, he wasn’t thinking much at all, except that he wouldn’t have to be cold anymore. “It’s Red Hood. You still for hire?”
A mocking chuckle followed. “Red Hood can’t clean up his own messes anymore?”
“I ain’t got any messes,” Jason snarled but turned back to his original goal. “I have an unusual job for you.”
Slade didn’t respond for a moment. “How much are you offering?”
That was actually a good question. Obviously, cuddling was not the type of specialized skill you’d search out when hiring an assassin. Jason didn’t really care how much it would cost—he just wanted to be warm again. “I’ll let you name the price.”
“What’s the job?” asked Slade, sounding suspicious.
And Jason froze. You can’t exactly name your price when you don’t know what the job entails. He felt uncomfortable explaining this over the phone because the bats were always listening, and their tech was exceptional. The next best thing would be to meet in person. Bugs were easy to jam. Even the Bat variety could be avoided. Besides, a few bats couldn’t possibly bug every square inch of a large city.
“You there?”
“Not over the phone. Bats. Find me.” It was safer than Jason texting a meet-up location. At the same time, waiting was a risk because Slade knew how to prioritize. He could easily drop Jason’s offer and accept another job that took less effort…
Slade’s annoyed growl was the last thing Jason heard before the mercenary abruptly hung up.
Jason frowned, staring at the home screen of his burner phone. Slade never confirmed if he was going to find him.
Jason returned to his bed, curled under the covers, feeling cold as ever. As much as he didn’t want to stay up and wait, the excitement hadn’t died down, and he ended up staring at shadows on the ceiling.
It’s not like his issues would magically solve themselves if he did have a "cuddle buddy". Yeah, Jason would feel warmer and safer, perhaps, but cuddling couldn’t prevent nightmares. If it were that easy, Jason would have hired one years ago.
“—Get up, boy.”
Jason shot up, subconsciously grabbing his gun from under the pillow. He aimed before he actually opened his eyes. After he aimed, he looked up.
There stood Deathstroke, in full gear, equipped with his swords and a sniper rifle. The only thing missing was his mask. He stood over Jason’s bed, looking very unimpressed.
“You’ve got five minutes,” said Slade.
Given the fact Deathstroke was inside Jason’s bedroom, one might safely assume the mercenary was interested in the pay. However, Jason wasn’t in the clear just yet. Slade would still have to accept "the job".
Surely, Deathstroke had never been asked to cuddle before.
Being woken up mid-sleep was a shitty feeling; he could barely think straight. Jason lowered his gun so it wasn’t pointing at Slade.
Because Jason was not thinking straight, he lowered his guard. And that’s not supposed to happen when a fully-armed metahuman assassin is in your apartment. Or safe house in Jason’s case. Well, hey, Jason wasn’t known to be the smartest bat.
What Jason did have was common sense. Logically, Slade wouldn’t hurt a potential employer who was letting him name the price. Not only that, Slade never killed unless he was hired to do so. Unless he took a job to take out Red Hood, then Jason was probably safe.
If Bruce could see this unfold, there would be a fucking long lecture. But Bruce wasn’t here right now, so it really didn’t matter.
“Give me a second.” Jason blinked a few times and got out of bed as steady as he could. He could do this.
“Fine.”
Jason stuffed his gun in the waistband of his pajama pants and flipped on a few lights. He motioned for Slade to follow him into the kitchen. As Slade stood and watched, Jason filled his steel kettle with cold water. He could tell Slade was watching him closely, maybe even glaring, if Jason were being honest. He turned the gas stove on high and placed the kettle on top, still not uttering a word to the assassin.
Making himself a cup of tea, Jason decided to be courteous. “You want any tea or coffee?”
Slade narrowed his eye. “No…thanks.”
“M’kay,” Jason hummed, pulling out a single teacup from an overhead cabinet. Into the cup, he dropped a bag of cheap jasmine tea and made a face. In Jason’s defense, this safe house was the one he used the least. He never bothered to stock it with his favorite, more expensive teas.
Sensing the water was just above a simmer with Slade looking more irritated than before, Jason left his teacup next to the stove.
Jason moved to the walnut dining table nearby and sat down. Seeming to understand the unspoken request, Slade sat down at the table in the chair directly across from Jason.
“You got a bug jammer?” Jason asked. He obviously had his own, and those he owned were always on, but Slade, being richer and more experienced, probably had way better tech than Jason. Better safe than sorry.
“Always. Now, what’s the job?” Slade demanded in a voice reminding Jason there was no tolerance for small talk.
Jason didn’t know how to explain the job without dying of embarrassment. So, he blurted out the first sentence that came to mind. “I want you to sleep with me.”
Just then, the kettle whistled, and Jason ran back to the stove. Only a vigilante would notice the way Slade jolted, thinking Jason was implying something other than actual sleep.
“Wait!—Fuck—I mean—”
“Kid—” Slade began, leaving his mouth open.
“—Whatever you’re thinking, that’s not what I meant.” A burning heat rushed to his face. Jason hoped to say something less embarrassing than “I want a cuddle buddy” but ended up saying something much worse and ten times more humiliating.
“Y—”
“—Just let me explain.” Anyone could see that Jason was failing. He had no choice but to be honest. “When I sleep, I get cold, I-I don’t like being cold, uh, makes me feel exposed or something.” It made him feel unsafe.
“So, what does this have to do with me?”
“I’m sort of…shit, uh, lonely?” Jason winced. Despite feeling like he was about to explode in shame, he continued onward. “And I…like to cuddle?”
“Kid—you—” Slade sighed after failing to form a reply. “Just to clarify, you want to hire me to be your bodyguard…while you sleep and I…hold you?”
“Yeah.” The way Slade explained it sounded more professional than Jason’s offer.
Jason watched the lines on Slade’s forehead deepen as he ran his fingers through his hair, stressed. Slade was hunched over the table and seemed to be contemplating whether or not he should accept. Eventually, the mercenary leaned back in his chair and exhaled.
“Alright, kid. I’ll take the job.”
“Really?” exclaimed Jason, who did not perk up all hopeful like a goddamn puppy. “How much do you want?” He didn’t care how much it was going to cost him—he had money—and the promise of good sleep overrode any and all financial worries. Hell, even if Slade asked for half-a-mill, Jason would still agree.
Slade laid out his pricing. “My normal bodyguard fee is $60,000, giving you a total of twelve hours. Concerning the unusual add-on, I’ll take $65,000.”
Deathstroke was the deadliest mercenary, and Jason was shocked Slade’s pricing wasn’t in the six-digit range. Jason almost choked on his own laugh. “I let you name the price, and that’s all you’re charging me?”
“It’s an average price. I’m not here to gouge you,” Slade countered.
“Expected something different from Mr. Money Bags Mercenary. Thanks, I guess.”
“Kid, do we have a deal?”
“Yeah…yeah, you have a deal.”
“Good. Here’s where to wire the money.” Slade slid a piece of paper, the size of a business card, across the table. The paper had handwritten information covering one side; the other side was blank. “What nights will I work?”
Jason didn’t have a specific plan. These days, he didn’t patrol at regular intervals, and he didn’t know Slade’s schedule. Jason wasn’t feeling as sharp as he’d like since he’d been startled awake.
“I…don’t know. I’ll figure it out.” Jason rubbed his face and shivered involuntarily. He didn’t layer up since the mercenary entered through his bedroom window. Slade seemed free now, having made no attempt to leave. “But if you’re free, you can start tonight.”
“You’re the employer,” the mercenary said, leaving the choice to Jason.
“Okay then, maybe you could start by telling me how you got in.”
Slade mapped out Jason’s security system and even highlighted its weak points while Jason sipped the cup of tea he just brewed. If Jason could improve his security system, maybe he could keep out the bats. Maybe being the operative word.
However, he was reluctant to fix the issues Slade mentioned. For the most part, the bats didn’t pose a threat, so there was no point in wasting precious time trying to keep them out. Jason relied on taking out a threat before an outdated system could remind him that the threat was inside. Nevertheless, Slade’s advice was good to keep in mind.
After Jason finished his tea and Slade was done roasting his shitty security system, Jason wired the money to Slade’s account. Now, it was Jason’s turn to explain the strengths and weaknesses…of his bedroom? Shit.
“Follow me,” he grumbled, leading Slade back to the bedroom. He motioned to a door on the right. “Bathroom’s there if you need it.”
Slade nodded, then asked, “Would you prefer if I took off my suit?”
“Yeah, that would probably be best,” Jason admitted. Slade’s Ikon suit was harder than a rock and wouldn’t be fun to sleep against. Though, if Slade was supposed to be his bodyguard, he probably shouldn't be taking off his armor, but then again, it’s not like there were many people who could defeat Deathstroke, armored or not. If Jason had wanted to cuddle with Superman-proofed armor, he would’ve just bought a life-sized rock. It would, he imagined, feel awfully similar.
Slade stripped off his Ikon suit, revealing a black t-shirt and a pair of tactical pants. He pushed both his armor and weapons to the corner of the room and moved towards Jason. “Where do you want me?”
“Just lay down on your side. I'll snuggle myself in.”
Slade did as he was instructed, positioning himself under the covers as the bed creaked beneath his weight. Jason turned off the lights before heading into the bed. He sighed, crawling under the shared blankets and basically slithered into Slade’s unoccupied arms. Jason wiggled closer so his face was nuzzled against the older man’s shoulder, feeling comforted by the soft smell of pine that clung to Slade’s rough skin.
Jason felt a pair of arms drape over his waist, and in response, Jason, with one arm curled into his side, wrapped his other arm around Slade’s midsection, tightly grasping the back of the mercenary’s shirt. Slade’s body tensed for a moment, but he reciprocated by securing his grip around Jason’s waist and resting his chin against Jason’s hair.
“Hm, fluffy,” noted Slade, as Jason felt a gust of gentle breaths, like a murmur, through loose and messy curls.
Finally, Jason felt warm. He felt safer. And the sound of Slade's heart beating was relaxing enough to make him...
—The only thing keeping Jason awake was knowing Slade was still awake. “You can go to sleep y'know,” Jason mumbled, his words slightly muffled, into Slade’s shoulder.
“You paid me to protect you.”
But Jason did feel protected. To be fair, Jason’s original intention was cuddles-for-hire, not a bodyguard. How many people could beat Red Hood and Deathstroke when they’re in the same bed room? Almost none. “I don’t care, Slade. You can sleep.”
“You sure, kid?” Slade asked.
“Mhmm,” Jason breathed, drifting off into a peaceful slumber, hoping Slade would follow.
Jason woke up to loud shouts directly in his ear and rays of sunshine beaming on his face. Of course, he first took notice of the shouts, as they were more disturbing than the light, and the light only became a problem when he tried to open his eyes.
“—Jesus Christ, brat! Wake up!”
Typically, Jason would snap awake and go for his gun if he heard foreign sounds in his safe house. Remembering what occurred last night, he chose not to retaliate. Jason woke up in a bed he found comfortable for the first time he could remember. If a gun were pointed at his head, Jason would die so fucking peacefully this time.
Jason was in such a good mood he didn’t even try to slap Slade for waking him up. Instead, he just grumbled, “Fuck offff…Five more minutes…”
“Let go of me, and I can ‘fuck off',” Slade growled, sounding more threatening when he was up close and very personal.
But Jason did not comply; he did the opposite and strengthened his grip around Slade’s mid-section, squishing his face further into the mercenary’s collar. “Fuck no. I’m the one paying you, old man.” Jason didn’t actually know how much time had passed, but he was willing to pay Slade overtime.
“It’s 11 am, I need to take a piss, and your time expires in two hours,” Slade said, as plainly as stating a report.
Having regained more of his consciousness, Jason replied in a clearer voice. “Yeah, well, two hours is still two hours. You can use the bathroom, but you’d better come back and be a good teddy bear.”
“Sure, kid. Let go.”
This time, Jason obeyed and loosened his grip, letting Slade retreat to the bathroom. Immediately after Slade left, the warmth made its exit, not all, but most. Jason was now more awake than before and couldn’t go back to sleep.
Like Slade said, it was 11 am. So, Jason decided to make breakfast.
Being kind, Jason pulled out enough food for two and started up the coffee maker. He settled on cooking a classic American breakfast since he didn’t know what Slade liked. Bacon, eggs, and toast with lots of butter.
As Jason pulled the eggs and bacon out of the fridge, he heard Slade exiting the bathroom. “Where’d you run off to, brat?” Jason listened to a pair of footsteps approaching the kitchen. “You said you wanted to sleep longer,” noted Slade in an accusing tone. He leaned against the countertop, back in his Ikon suit, where Jason was prepping the ingredients.
“Yeah, I did. Changed my mind,” he said, turning on the gas stove and placing a non-stick pan on top. Jason turned his head to the side with a look that said, “Breakfast?” It wasn’t much of a question as Jason was already cooking, but if Slade did decline, Jason wouldn’t mind eating all the food by himself.
“Sure. You cook?” The mercenary left Jason by the stove to sit down at the dining table in the same chair he chose last night.
“My grandfather taught me,” Jason answered, trying to make small talk even though he hated small talk. But that was what normal people did, and Jason wanted to be somewhat normal.
As soon as the coffee maker beeped, Jason removed the pot and poured its contents into a mug, filling it just below the brim. He didn’t add any sugar or cream; Jason assumed Slade also liked his coffee black.
Jason walked over to the dining table and pushed the hot cup towards Slade.
“Thanks.” The mercenary accepted, grabbing the mug by the bottom instead of by its handle.
Jason served up two plates of food on the table, one in front of Slade and the other in front of himself. Both plates had three sunny-side-up eggs, several strips of bacon, and slices of golden, buttered toast.
“It’s good,” Slade hummed with his eyebrows raised.
“Why do you sound so shocked? It’s eggs and bacon.”
“I haven’t eaten home-cooked food in a while.”
Jason didn’t pry, leaving the conversation behind, and chose to enjoy his company. After breakfast, Slade offered to do the dishes, which caught him off guard. It was only a few dishes. Jason smirked more obviously than he’d intended while shaking his head. Picturing Deathstroke doing house chores was silly as fuck.
“When’s my next job?” The mercenary asked, standing next to a freshly opened window.
“Don’t care. Just, I dunno, come over any night you’re free.” Jason assumed being the world’s most infamous mercenary meant Slade was unavailable most nights.
Slade gave a curt nod. “Should I notify you beforehand?”
“Nah.” Jason jogged over to the kitchen and pulled out a spare key from one of the drawers. “Here, just let yourself in. Try using the door next time.” He presented the silver key in front of the mercenary.
“Kid, you sure you want to trust me with this?” Slade paused before he accepted the key.
“No,” he admitted. “If shit happens, then shit happens. It's a home until it's not, right?”
Okay, so maybe giving Slade a free pass into his safe house seemed dangerous, but Slade already proved how easily he could break in. Jason knew there was no point in trying to protect himself at this stage in the game. Plus, it would be good for Slade to enter homes like a civilized person—through the fucking door. This applied to the Bats, too.
“Alright, kid, I’ll be off then.”
“‘ight,” Jason mimicked, shutting the window closed after Slade left.