Chapter Text
The first time Nightwing's questionable relationship with Deathstroke was brought up was during a game of Never Have I Ever between the original members of the Justice League and the new ones.
Hal, Barry, Wally, and Mari had initiated the game, trying to see who'd done more stuff. They were going between the group of assorted heroes and vigilantes, one from the original team— Superman, Flash (the old one) , Green Lantern, Green Arrow, Martian Manhunter— and the new(er) team members— Flash (the new one), Nightwing, Vixen, Cyborg, Arsenal, and Red Hood. Hood technically wasn't a JL member, new or otherwise, but people stopped trying to get him off the Watchtower ages ago.
The teams were trying to get all their people's fingers down before the other team did so.
"Oh! Oh! I got one!" Mari exclaims, raising her hand in the air. Hal had just gone, and successfully eliminated his own team member. "I am far older than any of you, and have been in wars, Hal. Of course I've traveled to more than ten planets." Martian Manhunter had said.
"Shoot, Vixen." Arsenal encourages, a grin on his face.
"Never Have I Ever slept with someone on the League's wanted list!" She exclaims, grinning like a madman and rocking back and forth in her cross-legged position.
"That's targeted!" Barry yells, pointing at Mari accusingly.
"All of these are targeted, Uncle Barry." Wally fires back. He whistles as Arsenal puts a finger down while glaring intently at the floor.
"Technically, you did it twice, babe." Hood says with a smirk. His metal helmet is sitting on the coffee table between the two groups, a black and white domino mask being the thing obscuring his identity.
"Shut up." Roy groans, blushing furiously.
"Woah, wait!" Oliver exclaims, waving his hands dramatically. "Nightwing!" All eyes snap to the blue and black clad hero, who now had one more finger down then before. "Did you just put a finger down!?"
"Uh…" Nightwing looks around, the white eyes of his mask darting around as he moves his own head. "...no?"
"Holy. Shit." Hood says, his own white eyes wide as saucers. "Holy shit, Goldie! Does Batman know!?"
"No, and he'll continue being oblivious, if you know what's good for you." Nightwing gets out through gritted teeth.
"Who was it!? Who was it!?" Hal asks, leaning forward in his seat. He'd have fallen out, if Barry hadn't grabbed his waist and stopped him from going forward anymore.
"Absolutely not." Nightwing says.
"Come on man, you gotta tell us!" Hal groans and slouches back, crossing his arms and pouting like a child.
"I am curious as well." Martian Manhunter chimes in. He was out of the game, but he was still watching intently.
"I have a guess!" Mari says, raising her hand as she speaks. "Was it Circe!?"
"Ugh, god no!" Nightwing shakes his head, disgust clear on his face, even with the domino mask. "It wasn't even a woman!" He realizes his mistake too late, of course.
"So it was a man on our wanted list?" Hal asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"That doesn't narrow it down by much." Superman pipes in. "A good majority of our wanted villains are men."
"Ugh, you guys really need to get more female villains." Mari complains, throwing herself back onto the beanbag she'd slid down from sometime during the game. "Where's the feminism?"
"It almost sounds like you're encouraging villainy." Wally snickers.
"You'd get along with Harley and Ivy." Hood says, nodding his head to the girl. "Anyways, back to you, Dickface. Who was it?"
"Oh!" Oliver jumps up again, an idea suddenly popping into his mind. "Was it Deadshot? He's a mercenary, right?"
Nightwing flinches. It's small, barely there, and the only ones who notice are Red Hood and Superman. But they do notice.
"Deadshot is married, ain't he?" Cyborg asks. "He has a daughter too."
"Was it another mercenary?" Oliver continues.
Nightwing flinches again. This time, the entire room notices.
They're getting close to the truth.
"Oh my god." Everyone looks at Red Hood. His face must be doing something strange, because Roy reaches out and grabs his hand. He hadn’t even realized it'd been twitching towards his gun. "Oh my god, Deathstroke." Many of the heroes present pull weird faces, then look back to Nightwing, who's stock still.
"Wing–"
"I have to get back to Bludhaven." Nightwing says suddenly, standing up and cutting off whatever Oliver had been about to say. "I've got my day job in a couple hours and I'd like to get some sleep beforehand."
Nobody gets in a word before Nightwing is gone. The Zeta tube announces his departure. Only then, do the heroes go back to breathing normally.
"Deathstroke?" Oliver whispers. "There's… there's no way. Nightwing wouldn't… I mean, does Deathstroke even know the guy?"
"Unfortunately." Red Hood stands as well. "Sorry to cut the game short. I gotta go as well."
The heroes knew he was lying to some capacity, but nobody called him out on it. Partly because of the gun strapped to his waist, and partly because he was glaring at anyone who even looked towards him.
Nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of Red Hood's anger.
Once the crime boss is gone as well, Wally stands up and addresses everyone.
"Look, this is none of our business. We should just leave this be." He says.
"Wally–"
"Leave it be." Wally snaps. "Just… leave it be."
And so they do.
Well, until the next incident arises.
—
There was an alien invasion. Some ancient species in both Kryptonian and Martian legends. They were called Denominators and were ravaging all around the world. The Justice League called in all available heroes, even some out of retirement, and a small gather of anti-heroes, or rather, people that weren't good but also didn't want the world to burn at the hands of some invading species.
"Woohoo!" Barry yells as he runs around the round table of gathered heroes. They were still waiting on some people, but the majority was present. "Man, it is good to be back!" He skids to a stop and jumps up and down, pumping his fist in the air.
"Geez, Uncle Barry!" Wally skids to a stop right next to him. "You been holding out on me?"
"Just a bit." Barry laughs and pinches his fingers together. "Where's Bart?"
"Right here!" Impulse runs up to them. "Sorry, went to grab the cookies Hood is making. He made enough for everyone attending."
"That's nice of him." Dinah says.
"Eh, not much. High chance he's trying to poison some of us." Red Robin says, not looking up from his computer.
Bart carefully places the cookie next to Red Robin. It had already been bitten.
The zeta tube rings out, announcing the arrival of the last group they were waiting for.
"B-01 Nightwing.
D-01 Blue Beetle.
V-01 Deathstroke.
V-02 Wintergreen.
V-03 Harley Quinn.
V-04 Pamela Isley."
As the group walks into the room, they catch many eyes. What catches most people's attention is the way Nightwing is leaning on Deathstroke as they walk.
"Uh, Nightwing?" Barry asks. He nods to the closeness of the vigilante and mercenary. "You good?"
"We got attacked on the way here." Deathstroke says. "Little bird here got nicked by one of the damn aliens." Deathstroke sets Nightwing down in the nearest chair, which just so happens to be right next to Red Robin.
"Shit, are you okay?" Wally asks, taking a step forward.
Deathstroke raises a hand, stopping Wally from going forward anymore. "Give him some space."
"Why don't you give him some space?" Oliver snaps, tilting his head towards the pair and glaring.
"Shut up, Queen." Deathstroke snaps. He grabs the bag hanging on Red Robin's chair and starts shuffling through it. The boy doesn't even snap at him to give it back, or even look up from his computer. He's still furiously typing away.
"Wait, let me do that." Dinah says, stepping past the frozen Wally. "I should patch his wound."
"What? You don't trust me to do it?" Deathstroke asks. The heroes swear that he's smirking at them, taunting them in some way, though they can't figure out what.
"Of course they don't trust you." Nightwing says, rolling his eyes under his domino mask. "It's fine. I trust Deathstroke to attend to my wound."
Many of the League members gasp at that, having not expected for Nightwing— or any hero, for that matter— to ever say that they trusted Deathstroke.
"Little bird," Deathstroke is gentle as he patches up the small wound. The Justice League didn't even know he could be gentle. "Stay awake, little bird. You've had worse than this."
"These guys have claws, Slade." Nightwing groans. He's holding tight onto the hilt of the katana strapped to Slade's back.
"You've faced many things with claws." Slade pulls out a bottle of alcohol from Red Robin's bag. "Do you want something to bite down on, little bird? This will hurt."
"Please tell me you still have those flavored sticks." Nightwing's tone of voice edges on pleading.
Deathstroke laughs— actually laughs, it's unnerving— and reaches into his belt. He pulls out a purple stick and places it in Nightwing's mouth. "Grape flavored. Your favorite."
Another weird thing about this. What did Nightwing mean when he said that? Why did Deathstroke know Nightwing's favorite flavor?
"'Faanks." The word comes out jumbled through the stick Nightwing is biting down on.
"Okay, ready, little bird?" Nightwing nods furiously, desperate to just get this over with.
Deathstroke uncaps the alcohol and raises it over the wound. "One, two," Slade doesn't bother getting to three. He pours the alcohol on the wound and Nightwing screams into the stick in his mouth. The heroes are sure he's cursing, but nobody can make it out.
"Okay, okay, we're done!" Slade pulls the alcohol away and wipes off the remaining alcohol. Once it's gone, he starts bandaging it. "We're done, little bird. Calm down. It's okay."
Once the wound is cleaned and bandaged, Slade helps Nightwing up and leads him to his seat. Wintergreen follows and sits down on Nightwing's other side. If the heroes didn't know better, they'd say it looked like the two were protecting him.
"Let's start." Batman says, directing attention to him and away from the confusing trio.
Over an hour later, they've been given the rundown of the invasion, what's fallen and what hasn't, allies who couldn't make it but are helping on the ground, and so forth and so forth. They're currently going over a possible plan to get rid of the leader of the invading aliens.
"Teams are as follows." Batman calls. "Blue Beetle, Flash, both of you, Impulse, Green Lantern, Hawkgirl and Hawkman, Superboy, younger one, Atom, Zatanna, you guys are on evacuation of any civilians left in the city their leader is in. Superman, Supergirl, Superboy, Wonder Woman, Troia, Captain Marvel, Firestorm, Ray, Martian Manhunter, Aquaman, Black Canary, Black Bat, Signal, you guys are with me. Heavy hitters and breaking through the ranks so that the leader can't call for backup. Arsenal, Green Arrow, Red Hood, you three are snipers. Ivy, Harley, Robin, Spoiler, and Vixen, you five are taking care of anyone taking advantage of the chaos. Don't kill them, just tie them up at one of our safehouses in the city. Red Robin, you're with Oracle and Wintergreen, coordinating things from here."
Batman sighs and looks down at his roster. He hesitates before he speaks again.
"Nightwing. Deathstroke." Everyone looks at the two, unable to hide their interest. Nightwing was leaning against Slade's side, their chairs pushed together. He had Slade's eyepatch in his hands and was fiddling with it, and Slade was… well, Slade was smiling.
The heroes didn't know what to make of it.
"Little bird. Our turn." Slade says.
"Hmm?" Nightwing looks up, finally noticing all the eyes on him. "Oh! What's our job?"
"You two are stealth. Sneak into the leader's headquarters and take him out." Batman sighs after he says it.
Black Bat catches his attention and quickly signs something.
"What'd she say?" Flash (Barry) asks.
"She asked why she wasn't on the stealth team." Red Hood says. "Which is what I'm wondering too. Black Bat is our best at stealth. It's what she specializes in."
"Oh believe me, we're better." Deathstroke laughs and hits Nightwing on the back. "Happy to be together again, little bird?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Nightwing rolls his eyes and pushes Slade's hand off his shoulder.
"Deathstroke and Nightwing have a… special relationship." Batman says carefully. "They work best together, and together, they are our best stealth. They're our best bet at winning this thing and taking out the leader of these invaders."
"Uh, are you sure?" Supergirl asks, slowly raising her hand in the air.
"Yes, yes he is." Deathstroke throws an arm around Nightwing's shoulder and grins, showing off his pearl white teeth. Nightwing rolls his eyes, but doesn't shrug Deathstroke off this time, resigning himself to his fate. Deathstroke leans in and whispers something in Nightwing's ear.
Nobody except for the supers hear him. But by the way each super stiffens and turns to the pair with glares set on their faces— even baby Jon, who's been nothing but nice to everyone— the heroes don't think it's any good.
"Shut your fucking mouth, Slade." Nightwing snaps, his entire demeanor changing in a second.
"Oh come on, pretty bird." Slade whines. The heroes all wince at the new nickname. The 'pretty' added onto it just made their relationship far, far more creepier.
"Slade." Nightwing grabs Slade's arm on his shoulder and pulls it, then slams it onto the table and pulls the fingers in his hands back. If Slade were a normal human, they'd be broken. "Shut. Up."
"Alright, alright." Slade pulls his hand away and raises them above his head. He interlocks his fingers behind his head and smirks at the confused, shocked, and angered faces of the heroes at the table. "When does this plan start?"
Despite the creepiness of Nightwing and Deathstroke's questionable relationship, the League had to admit, they worked well together.
The leader of the invading species was dead within an hour.
Nobody knew what happened— nobody would know until Nightwing's mission report was filed— but they knew it was something bad.
They hadn't heard from Nightwing since he and Slade confirmed the death of the leader over comms.
"He'll be here." Batman says. They were waiting for Nightwing and Deathstroke to come back so they could run everything down.
"Recognized.
B-01 Nightwing.
V-01 Deathstroke."
"Batman!" Nightwing is yelling. "Fuck, Slade, stop dying on me!" The heroes all jump to action.
Nightwing comes limping around the corner. He's holding Deathstroke haphazardly, and the League can understand why. His left ankle is twisted the wrong way, and his right arm, the one Deathstroke is leaning against, is very clearly broken.
Deathstroke is no better. There's deep claw marks on his chest that haven't healed yet, and the bones in his right arm and left leg are very visible.
"Fuck, Slade, what is wrong with you!?" Nightwing stumbles up to the table.
"What happened?" Batman demands. Those who don't know him well enough wouldn't see the worry on his face or hear the fear in his voice.
"Slade is stupid, is what happened." Nightwing snaps. "He jumped in between me and a fucking, fuck, shit, I don't even know what it was. But it broke his arm and leg, and some stupid alien bodyguard or whatever showed up and clawed him like this. Damn bastard fought until he couldn't
"Why didn’t he escape? Leave you behind?" Diana asks. It was a question on everyone's minds, but none of them were actually gonna voice it.
"That is because he is incredibly stupid and as much as he denies, he cares for Nightwing." Wintergreen says, standing up and walking up to the pair. He grabs Slade's other side.
Nightwing sighs in relief at the lessened pressure on his broken shoulder. "Thank you, Wintergreen. This man is like, 200-some pounds of muscle."
"We should get him to the medbay." Wintergreen says. "You as well, Nightwing."
"I'm fine."
"Nightwing." Wintergreen's tone sets off alarm bells in the bats minds. He sounded so much like Alfred.
"Fine, fine." Nightwing sighs. "Let's go. His bones will heal but this claw mark will probably hurt for some days. Make sure he doesn't take any contracts till he's healed."
As the two disappear down the hallway to the medbay, they hear Wintergreen bark out a laugh. "Nothing will stop him from taking a contract."
Even once they're gone, the table still stays silent.
"That was definitely weird, right?" Barry asks, pointing at the hallway the trio had walked into a couple minutes prior.
"Definitely." Wally agrees.
"Batman," Superman turns to the vigilante. "What is Nightwing's relationship with Deathstroke?"
Red Hood snorts. His helmet covers up the sound, but it's still clear he was laughing. "If you can find out, please let the rest of us know. We've been trying to figure out Pixie's relationship with Deathstroke for years. I mean, there was that time he–"
"Red Hood." Cyborg snaps. The heroes feel chills dance along their spines at the cold tone of Cyborg's voice. "Be quiet. That is not your secret to tell."
"Whatever." Hood scoffs and props his boots up on the table. "Let's get on with this damn meeting. I need to go home after the day I've had."