A/N: I'm updating this story while it's Monday night here, because the apartment is being renovated and internet is unreliable, so… yeah… Last chapter!

In Perfect Control

Chapter 14: In Control

Friday morning he was woken up early for a workout, a routine that had been broken a few times lately. His back was still sore, but it felt good to stretch his muscles nonetheless. He pushed his nerves aside and tried to focus on the day ahead. There was a meeting in the morning that he needed to prepare better for.

Business-wise things have been running smoothly. Robin had expected more rebellion, in a way, or at least to be questioned more, but so far there hadn't been any real challenges, and he felt like he was being accepted as both an adult and their leader more and more. He didn't know if that was all him, as he suspected that both Lucius and Slade might have had something to do with it, but he was glad that he didn't have to fight that battle as well.

"It's going to be a long day," he said as he was getting dressed after the shower.

"It is," Slade confirmed.

"I need to find out more about the gala. I know it starts at seven, but do you think I need to be there earlier?" the teen asked, intentionally looking nervous.

"The speech is still bothering you?" the man teased him gently. "We'll ask your secretary; she'll make sure to find out. We can go home for a few hours and rest before it starts."

No, no they could absolutely not do that, Robin knew, so he shook his head. "I prefer to rest up in the apartment, if you don't mind? We can bring our clothes and such there, right? Dinner will be at the gala, but I'd prefer to have something light after work, because who know how late they will start serving."

"It's more convenient to stay, I guess," Slade agreed. "But we need to pack what we are supposed to wear, then."

"Alfred can do that and take it over later, though?" Robin said. "He'll make sure everything is in order."

Slade nodded to this too, and told the butler the plans over breakfast. Alfred of course agreed and then they left for work.

"Mr. Pennyworth is here to see you," Miss Crown let them knew shortly before lunch.

"Thank you, Caroline, please let him in," Robin smiled.

The man walked in with several tuxes over his arm.

"What's this?" Robin asked. "I didn't expect you to bring the whole wardrobe."

"Forgive me, Master Richard," the old man told him. "But I noticed that at the cocktail party the tux you wore could have had a slightly better fit, so I brought a few jackets for you to try. Mr. Wilson, your tux and shoes are here," he said and put down a plastic zipped clothes-bag on the man's desk.

"Thank you, Alfred," Slade said easily, and inspected the contents.

"Now, Master Richard…?" the butler said, a disguised order. "If you could remove your blazer?"

Robin sighed and at the same time, perfect timing, his stomach growled.

"Slade, would you mind seeing about having lunch delivered?" he asked pleadingly. "I know Alfred, and this will take a while."

"I'll take care of it," the man said and left.

"Things are prepared at home. The security has been put on high alert, they will call extra men in tonight, and Wilson's things are packed and out by the gates." The man added the last part with some extra satisfaction. "The guards have been given orders not to allow him entrance and only unlock the gate if given a code word."

"Which is…?" Robin asked.

"Rubber duck."

"Ok, that's random enough," Robin snickered.

"The bat computer has been working on altering the security features Slade implemented, removing any passwords he has added. You might need this." The man handed him a slip of paper with a series of ten digits and letters in random order. Robin memorized it in a few moments and gave it back.

"Very good. I want you down in the cave. Cy will take over part of it, but you might need to help me remotely," Robin told him.

"Of course," the old man said and then sighed. "Be careful."

"I'll try. I have the radio with me," Robin said pulling out an ear piece from his pocket. "I'll put it in when it's time. You should be able to follow what's going on."

"Good… good." The man sighed again. "Part of me wishes you'd be happy to settle as a businessman after this, it would be easier on this old heart, but I know that you need to do what is best for you."

"Yeah," Robin smiled and then looked thoughtful. "Not that I'm completely sure what that is yet."

"I won't pressure you either way," the old man smiled. "You're just a young man, you'll figure it out."

"Thank you," the teen smiled and gave the man a short hug. "Now, did we need to look at jackets?"

"Of course not, this one is perfect," the butler snorted and put one of the tuxes down. "I just needed an excuse to talk to you and give you the code." The old man chuckled like he had done something naughty which made Robin snicker as well.

They were just 'done' when Slade returned, carrying a bag that smelled delicious to the teen, who was now starving.

"Thank you for all the trouble Al. Now let's just hope I remember my speech," Robin grinned.

"I'm sure you'll do very well, Master Richard," the butler said and, carrying the extra tuxes, left the office.

"Pick out what you want," Slade told him and handed him the bag. Soon Robin's desk was covered in cartons of Chinese food and he was happily helping himself. He glanced over at Slade and noticed that the man looked thoughtful again.

Slade was used to knowing exactly what he wanted, exactly what the goal was and then focusing on that. He was not used to conflicted feelings and that made this current situation so much more infuriating. He had gotten a call yesterday, offering him a job, or rather, begging him to accept it. Several people had already failed. It was dangerous. Not only did he need to infiltrate a foreign culture if he would have any chance at coming even close to the target, but the hostile environment surrounding the area made it even more hazardous. He was also perfect for the job as he actually spoke the particular dialect there. His sniper skills were also more than up to par, and if he needed to cross the wilderness to get in or out, he would manage. It would take a few weeks to plan and the mission itself would most likely take at least a month, probably two. You couldn't rush something like that or you would end up like the idiots who had already been sent. The man snorted to himself. Why the U.S intelligence service thought they could send their own men on missions like that always surprised him. They were idealistic little tenderfoots who dreamed of being American James Bonds. Pathetic. And now they were desperate. Desperate enough not only to call him, but also offer him a very substantial amount of money, and; more importantly; immunity. They wanted to give him a ten-year immunity deal, but he had scoffed and they had made it a lifetime deal. He would get no crime record at all, even if he shot the president himself in the face. Tempting. The mission was very challenging with great rewards. It was perfect. It just came at the worse possible moment. He had supposed he would take on some missions, here and there, deeply under cover, even when staying with Robin, but nothing like this. He couldn't leave the teen to his own devices yet, even with the hold he had on him.

Slade sighed and reached for some of the food. Robin was munching away at it, so he had made a good choice then. He chuckled to himself and wished all choices were so easy. The teen had said he couldn't leave him, and he had been right. But Slade hadn't liked hearing it. Suddenly he felt trapped, and it was supposed to be the other way around. However, there was no going back now. Robin was his, his grip on the boy was strong and couldn't be wasted. He had told the man on the other side of the line that he'd let him know by tomorrow, but he knew what his answer would be. What it had to be. But he didn't like it.

As they were eating, Robin was practicing his speech for that evening and mumbling under his breath.

"Is it too focused on Bruce?" he asked the man. "Is it too much to point out all the things he did for the city? Does it sound like I'm bragging about how important Wayne Enterprises are?"

"It sounds fine," Slade, who clearly barely could bring himself to care, answered distractedly. The man had been somewhat detached all day so far and, as before, Robin was loving it. He decided to rub something in.

"Slade?" he asked, with a very obvious 'I want something'-voice.

"Yes?"

"Do you think… I mean… if you agree…"

"Spit it out."

"Well… I was thinking… could we take a trip somewhere sometime? Like a vacation? Just to see something apart from Gotham and the inside of a conference room?"

"Of course." The man sounded somewhat happy about the prospect, so Robin naturally had to nip that emotion in the bud.

"Great! I mean, it couldn't be this year, of course… but maybe in a year or two? I know you want me to learn the business so there wouldn't be time, and leaving Gotham now might be seen as a weakness from my side, like I'm not willing to work hard," the teen finished. He saw that he had successfully planted the image of a conference room in the man's head.

"No one can deny us a honey moon," the man said, although only halfheartedly.

"Of course not," the teen snorted. "But it's not like we can marry within a year either. First, we need to start officially dating, then you need to propose a year or so later, because doing so too quickly will be looked down upon, it won't be considered stable enough. After that, taking a year to plan a wedding isn't unusual… so, yeah, at least two years. Sounds like a long time," he sighed. He popped half a spring roll in his mouth and furtively glanced at the man. He looked nicely annoyed.

Once they finished eating the teen handed Slade a fortune cookie before taking one himself. He opened it and read the slip of paper, not able to hold back a chuckle.

"I'll apparently meet a new friend soon," he said. "What does yours say?"

The man handed it over silently, Robin read it and burst out laughing. "'You'll be going on a favorable trip'? Not without me! You're not leaving me alone with all the paperwork!" he chuckled. "That's the only good thing about this arrangement… that you actually work."

"The only good thing, huh?" the man smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Um… I… Sorry, I…" Robin stumbled, trying to judge if the man was actually irritated or not. "Not that there aren't other… good things…"

"And don't you forget it," the man said flippantly, showing the teen that there were no hard feelings.

"No, sir."

"Good. Now we need to go through the reports for next week, and look at our agendas."

"Yes, and I'd like a shower before the gala. We need to be there at six thirty to go through things with the organizers."

"Then I'll take it upon myself to make sure you need a shower," the man leered at him.

Robin dared to roll his eyes, but didn't comment.

Slade kept his word. He decided they should stop working at four and Robin soon found himself in the upstairs apartment, spread out on the bed, not quite remembering why he wanted to go through with the evening's plans. The world was feeling like a pretty good place right now, and why change it?

Luckily afterglows don't last that long, and a more reasonable part of him then took over. He took a long shower while Slade was again fetching them food, tapas this time, and then they lounged around half naked for a while before it was time to get dressed.

"Still nervous about tonight?" Slade asked him.

"Very," the teen grinned honestly. "But I also know I can do it."

"Good. I have confidence in you."

Robin smiled, finding it funny that Slade cheered him on in this. He sure as hell wouldn't if he had known what the night would really entail.

The hall where the gala was held was no more than a few buildings away from Wayne tower, and they simply walked there, taking in the cool air which still had no real promises of spring in it.

They met up with the organizers who where at that stress level that an event organizer always seemed to achieve, far above everyone else. Robin learned his cues, how he would be introduced, how to adjust the microphone should he need to, and where the TV-cameras and prompters were. The event was being broadcasted live locally on a city business news channel, but the media, representing a broad spectrum of news and gossip outlets, were of course present. It wasn't a super exciting event for people in general, however; a night of speeches, talks, awards and one or two artists, while the invited were dining at small round tables in the large open space in front of the scene.

As one of the speakers, Robin had been seated at a table close to one of the stairs to the stage. Joining him was Slade and Lucius, who came up to meet them nursing a cup of coffee.

"Sorry, it's not that I don't believe your speech to be riveting, it's just that it's been a long week and I would have preferred to vegetate in front of the TV," the man told him and Slade in a joking tone.

"You and me both," Robin agreed and Slade seemed to concur as well.

"I refuse to sit down yet, we'll be sitting here all night," Robin said, looking around. "On the other hand, I don't feel like mingling either."

"Let's go back stage, then, to look around at the chaos," Lucius suggested. The three of them did, and soon it was time to be seated. Robin would be called up first, after a short introduction, and he glanced nervously at Lucius as they made their way to their seats, still half hidden by the scene.

"Holy!" Lucius suddenly called out in agitation. Slade reacted instantly and turned around, only to get a chest full of tepid coffee from the man, who seemed to have tripped on some cables lying across the floor. "Dammit!" Lucius exclaimed when he saw the damage.

"Fuck…" Robin just stared at the mess. "You… you can't go out like that."

"Take my shirt!" Lucius offered.

"I won't be able to button it," Slade pointed out gruffly, and that was true, as the other man was much slimmer.

"Bruce kept extra shirts and suits in the apartment," Robin said. "They are still there; I saw them before." He could see that the man wasn't quite biting, however. Some kind of instinct clearly told the mercenary that he should stick around. The teen was desperate enough to try with the ball-and-chain method. "But I'm up in a minute, you can't leave!" he added. "You have to be here for the speech!"

Telling Slade what he 'had' to do was a very good way of making sure the man would do the opposite.

"It will only take me a moment to go there. I can't show myself like this, I'll be back soon enough."

"But-!"

"Go up and give that speech, Richard. That's an order," the man said and Robin pretended to deflate and nod in agreement.

A few moments later he was introduced and he entered the stage, carrying his cue cards which he had just in case the teleprompter might fail. On the way there he put his earpiece in.

"There?" he said quietly.

"Ready, Master Richard," came Alfred's reply.

At the podium, Robin looked over at Lucius, seeing the man filming with his cellphone, and nodding. The man made a thumbs up. Cyborg was ready.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Robin started. "I would rather be anywhere else than here tonight." He let that sink in for only a moment, hearing confused whispers. "Because me not being here would mean that my guardian and mentor, Bruce Wayne, would still be alive," he explained and the sounds changed to more sympathetic whispers. "I'm here tonight to speak about this city, Gotham, but I can't do so without speaking of Bruce. Bruce was a big part of this city. Not only is Wayne Enterprises by far the largest employer here, he also ran multiple side projects and charities that supported the city in a multitude of ways. I have taken up his mantle, but in some ways I fall short. Bruce provided this city with more than jobs and financial support; he was its protector. Bruce Wayne was Batman."

The room erupted, and Robin saw security men from Wayne Enterprises subtly surround the stage, stopping people from entering it. Good old Lucius had apparently thought of something the teen himself had missed.

"I can't stay here long, so please listen," Robin said and the room quieted down reasonably again. "It's true. He was Batman, and I, myself, was, for a while, his sidekick Robin. As you understand I have quite a few friends with interesting gifts and skills, and one of them are, at this very moment, making sure this news is spread nationally. I'm afraid that means that we have hijacked the feed from the TV-cameras in here, and quite a few stations. I'm sorry about that, but it was necessary to get not only Batman's identity out, but also two messages to those who might like to act on that knowledge: Wayne manor is under protection. It is already well known in certain social groups of Gotham. Don't try it. Secondly, the land itself is protected. The Wayne family has owned this land since the first settlers arrived, and according to Gotham Property laws, it was bought in such a way to insure full proprietorship, a law that hasn't been declared invalid and that now means that the land has a similar status to a embassy, meaning not even an official from this country may enter the grounds. It is my intention to keep the house and its inhabitants safe. It is also my intention to cooperate with the law, while pertaining the integrity of the manor. Wayne Enterprises are, for now, in the capable hands of Mr. Lucius Fox, as I might need to focus on other things while this shock settles." Robin saw a tall man with white hair making his way over from main entrance. "And now I need to go. Goodnight!" he added almost flippantly and ran in the opposite direction.

"Robin! Here!" A female voice called to him and he caught a small bag being thrown at him.

"Thanks Selena!" he grinned and withdrew a utility belt. He dashed through an emergency exit, setting off the alarm, as he fastened the belt around his waist.

"Alfred, is it close?"

"Above the building in just a moment sir," was the reply.

Robin grabbed the one thing he really needed from the belt; his grapple hook. He shot from the ground just as the door slammed opened, revealing an enraged looking Slade.

Robin looked down as he flew through the air.

"I'm breaking up with you!" he yelled out, grinning like a mad man. The man below roared and jumped, started climbing the fire escape with worrying speed. Robin heard a soft whirr above him, though, and grinned as he swung himself up on the small, black jet plane.

"Good driving, Al, you're the remote control king!" he said as he climbed into the cockpit. "Let's get out of here!"

The flight only took a few minutes. The longest time was actually turning and making sure to come in for a perfect landing. As soon as Robin entered the Batcave, Alfred was ready and closed it off completely. Not even if anyone found the hidden entrances would they be able to get through now. Not without explosives.

"Anyone contacting us?" the teen asked.

"Only everybody. Who do you want to talk to first?"

"Someone local," the teen sighed. "Make sure to check the outer security, make sure they manage everything."

"So far, so good. The press should start arriving at any moment, though," the man said. "Putting commissioner Gordon through."

"Hello Commissioner," Robin said cheerily.

"Don't hello me, brat, have you any idea what you have done?" The man sounded irate, but there was something warm in his voice as well. At least Robin hoped he wasn't imagining it.

"Sorry about the chaos, I hope for all our sakes that it will die down soon," the teen said, talking over the speakerphone as he let his fingers fly over the keyboard and monitored a multitude of images of news media.

"Half the judges in the city have been woken up, people are screaming for search warrants," the man pointed out.

"Tell them to check the law, they can't issue any," Robin told him.

"I assumed that part was true."

"It was all true."

"Yes, of course. Alright, I'd try to hold everyone off. Don't have jurisdiction when it comes to the CIA or FBI, though. I'm sure both are interested."

"If they call, give them this number, tell them we will do our best to reply. We are not hostiles. Please repeat that to them. A lot."

"Might need to," the older man grunted. "Very well, brat, I hope we all come out on the other side of this somewhat unscathed."

"Me too," the teen sighed.

"Whatever prompted you to give up the secret in the first place?" the man wanted to know.

"Well… basically… marriage," the teen chuckled.

"Congratulations…?"

"I fucking hope not," the teen snorted. "Honestly? I was blackmailed. The person knew. I'd put out a warrant for Slade Wilson, AKA Deathstroke. Proceed with caution. Extremely dangerous."

"I assume this man know who you are and where you are?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"I'd be careful myself then. Good luck, Boy Wonder."

The teen grinned. "Thanks."

Someone tried to get through using the direct link to the Batcave and the teen answered. He expected maybe Cyborg or even Slade, somehow, but no.

"Superman?"

"The J. L needs an explanation. And an assurance you won't out any more of us." The man sounded stern but mainly looked concerned.

"Send a journalist and you'll get the national scoop," Robin grinned.

The man of Steel looked surprised for a moment and then gave a small smile on his own. "Expect company soon."

"Do me a favor and fly in," the teen said. "It would help right now."

"Sure, use my good name," the man snorted. "You'd better have a good explanation for this."

Clark got his explanation, both the real one and the slightly edited public one for his interview. They set it up like it was via link, as there was no way for the actual Clark Kent to get to Gotham so quickly.

According to the public story, which Clark helped him with, Robin had been blackmailed by unknown sources who were looking to exploit him and use him for their own means, which was close enough, after all. He had heroically decided to fight back by exposing himself, as he didn't want Gotham to suffer, which he knew it would do, long term, by letting people use him.

"I only feel a little bit dirty about this," Clark sighed once they were done.

"Oh, good," the teen smirked.

"You and Lex actually…?"

"When I said I'd tell you everything I meant it. I even showed you the welts on my back," Robin said seriously. "So… yes. If he hadn't been a super villain, I would have quite liked him."

"Why do I get a feeling you quite like him either way?" Superman wanted to know. "You haven't exactly spewed hate over Deathstroke either."

"Well, if he wasn't a total bastard, I would have quite liked him too," the young man grinned. "What can I tell you; I'm complicated."

"Clearly. Why don't you try dating someone nice?"

"Like Roy?" Robin made a face.

Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No, clearly not. You know what I mean."

"Yes, and let me know if you find any," Robin smiled. "For now, it seems my dance card is full."

The Kryptonian shook his head at him but seemed more amused than worried.

"Keep in touch, kid. If you need help…"

"You showing up here will help keeping unwanted people away," Robin smiled. "Thanks."

"I'll do you one better; I'll stop by the press hoard outside and give them a few quotes."

"Tell them I'm coming out in a few hours to answer some questions."

"Are you?" the man asked.

"Yes, I'm not evil," the teen smirked. "But I might let them wait until early dawn. A lot to do in the meanwhile."

"Understandable," Clark said.

"Wait… shit," Robin suddenly said. "I don't think the local media would love me giving the story away to the Daily Planet, what do you think?"

"Probably not, and you need them. How about you chose a maximum of five local news sources and do a small press conference with them now, and I'll hold off airing the filmed interview for a few hours. It will still be exclusive enough to be a feather in the cap for us, and as you own us, it wouldn't be that strange either."

"Perfect. Any names popping up?"

Clark helped him select five news companies and Alfred contacted them asking if they would be interested in a short interview. They were. Very much so. Then Clark left, as Superman, and hovered for a moment in front of the gates, speaking to the press out there. Robin could picture the images of the man of steel seemingly protecting the iron wrought gates with the large 'Ws". It would make a very good visual message. He almost purred.

The interview went well, Robin played the part of both a victim and a protective hero, who only had the best of Gotham in mind. Not that he didn't, but he was of course also doing it for himself and his loved ones.

When asked if he would continue to run Wayne Enterprises, he said seriously:

"My biggest fear in this is that the company suffers. Not for myself, but for our employees. I have the amazingly competent Lucius Fox at the helm, and we recently welcomed his son Timothy Fox into our folds as well, a young man who has been working hard to help people less fortunate than himself and who has his heart in the right place-"

"Are you a couple?" a journalist cut in.

Robin chuckled. "I am not sure, but to the delight of the straight female population, I believe young Mr. Fox is straight and single. Go get him, ladies," he winked, getting a laugh. "But, back to your first question. The company is my responsibility, I will always be involved in it, although how much might vary. I'd like to focus on charities as well, and, if the Gotham Police agrees, I might be able to help them too at times. There's only so many hours in the day. I hope the people of Gotham will support me, I hope the shareholders and customers will stay with us as well."

"Will you tell us more about Batman?"

"Not tonight, I think," Robin shook his head. "Bruce deserves a bit more time than that, but I understand that people are curious. I'm willing to share some things about the life he lived, we both lived, with secret identities and fighting crime here in the city. There are stories ranging from hilariously funny to deeply tragic, and it will be my honor to tell some of them, but I want the city to get some back from that too… Maybe I'll write a book and donate the proceeds to charity. Maybe I'll have a charity auction with some memorabilia. Every cent will go back to the city in different ways, though, that's what Bruce would have wanted. Batman belonged to us all, he protected us all."

The interview lasted an hour, and after that Robin took calls from officials of different kinds yet again, while Alfred reported on developments along the way.

"Has Slade been here?" Robin asked after a few hours.

"Not according to the guards. They still have his things."

"And he hasn't called?"

"No, Master Richard."

"That… worries me. I should call him," the teen said but then a call from the pentagon came through and he got other things on his mind.

It wasn't until early dawn that he emerged to speak to the press outside. He patiently answered selected questions for almost two hours and then headed inside.

"You look dead on your feet, Master Richard, maybe you should rest?" Alfred suggested.

"What about you?" the young man asked, as the man's expression showed nothing.

"I was fortunate enough to be able to take a long nap in the afternoon before all this," the old man smiled.

"Oh, good. I'm taking a shower, at least. I'll be down in half an hour or so, but if something I have to deal with happens, let me know."

"Of course, sir," the butler nodded.

Robin closed his eyes as the almost too hot water drenched him. He imagined it washing all his troubles away, all his worries all his tiredness. He just stood there for far too long before he even considered reaching for the shampoo.

Once done he dried himself and walked into his bedroom, naked, to dress. It was chilly and he walked over to the window to close it. As he did, he realized that it hadn't been opened before.

He spun around. Slade smirked at him. The man was positioned between him and the door, blocking the exit very efficiently.

"So… this is awkward…" Robin began. His heart was pounding. He knew Slade might very well kill him or take him away as he had threatened. He'd do everything he could to stop either of those things to happen, of course, but he didn't really see how.

"A bit," the man snorted. "That was quite a stunt you pulled."

"Pretty epic, wasn't it?" Robin smirked.

"Don't act like you are the only one who watched Iron Man," the man snorted.

"Ow," the teen grunted. "You forced my hand, though. Our identities were the only things you had on me, the only thing you could really hold over my head. Now everyone knows."

"Yes. Challenging."

"Doesn't have to be," the teen shrugged. "I've been watching you, Slade. You've been strange since you got that call. What was that about? A mission?"

The man gave him a searching look and Robin almost broke out in a sweat before the man decided that he was likely innocent. The teen would have loved to brag about distracting him with a mission, but he knew that the man would dismiss it immediately if he suspected that he had been set up.

"It was."

"More interesting than board meetings and budgets?" the teen drawled. "I'm hurt."

"Really?" the man snorted.

"No, I don't blame you at all. Neither of us are made for this, Slade," the teen said, throwing out his hands. "Not full time! We were made for adventure! We were meant to be out there and experience things, not drown in paper at a desk in a stuffy room."
"You sound like you want to come with me," the man smirked.

"A hard pass on that one, as you are probably going to kill someone," the teen chuckled. "But if the JL or the Titans needed my help, I'd be off in a heartbeat. My place is here for now, though. Stabilize things. Give something back to Gotham. They have lost something too, although they might be too overwhelmed to realize it yet."

"You act like you think I'd let you."

Robin's features got serious. "I hoped you would. I hoped we could part as… well, 'friends' is such a strong word…" he backtracked.

"You are still mine."
"So you say," the teen smiled, almost softly. "Why don't you come by again in a few months and we'll see."

"I won't let you go," the man said but then got interrupted by a cough behind him.

"Pardon me, if you would raise your hands, please?" a steady but unfamiliar voice said.

Slade turned around and now Robin could see the doorway too. In it stood a tall, slender man with a gun pointing at the mercenary.

"And you are?" Slade asked, not impressed.

"Albert Pennyworth, sir. I just arrived from the airport and Uncle Alfred asked me to check on Master Wayne. Now, if you would please leave the premises. I'd be happy to show you to your luggage."

"And you're going to do that with a gun with the safety still on?" Slade asked.

Robin got very impressed as the British man's eyes didn't even flicker. Instead he smiled slightly.

"I assure you it's off. When I found out I'd be coming to America I purchased a gun after taking all the required classes. I am trained well enough to relieve you of your other eye."

Slade guffawed."Well, I see I clearly have no choice, then," he said and looked over at Robin. "I quite like him."
"I am partial to him as well by now," the teen blinked, rather surprised that the young butler wasn't dead already.

Slade turned back to the brit. "Albert, I expect you to take good care of your new master here. I'll be back for a visit soon enough."

"If Master Wayne approves I, of course, have no objections, and naturally I intend to do my job," the other man replied. Robin noticed that his eyes were very much like Alfred's, but hazel. Actually, he and Alfred could easily have been father and son instead of great uncle and great nephew. Right know those eyes were watchful, but held a little bit of humor in them, too.

"Very well. I'll show myself out," Slade said. "I'll be in touch soon," he told Robin and then added, bit an almost proud smile. "Well played, boy."

"You always did know how to push me to do my best," Robin replied with a little mock bow.

Albert moved out of the way, but kept the gun trailed on the man until Slade had left. He then turned towards his new employer.

"This was not quite the introduction I had imagined, sir," he said apologetically.

"Well, welcome to Wayne Manor," the teen chuckled.

"Indeed. Now, perhaps," Albert said, "we should see about getting you dressed, sir?"

Two months later…

"The fish is exquisite. Here, have a taste," Luthor told him and offered to feed him. Robin smiled and opened his mouth obediently. They were surrounded by a few other tables at the exclusive restaurant and there was a real risk that he man's actions might make it into the media tomorrow. That was Lex's problems though, the teen figured.

"Mmm…" he closed his eyes. "It really is. My halloumi isn't bad either, care to try?"

The man did, and the teen snickered as more eyebrows were almost audibly raised around the room.

"I think that blew the cover of a business dinner," he pointed out.

"I'm delighted that you agree it's something more," the man smirked for across the table.

"Well… never said it was more than a dinner," Robin pointed out. At that moment, Luthor's phone beeped.

"That's strange, it's supposed to be turned off," the man said and took it out of his pocket. "Ah," he said, after looking at the screen.

"What?" Robin asked curiously.

"A certain Mr. Wilson would like me to know that even though he appreciates my kind gesture of keeping you warm until he returns, he prefers if I wouldn't be so considerate. Well. I was paraphrasing. You are still too innocent to hear certain things," the man leered.

The teen grinned. "Does that mean he's on his way back? I haven't heard a word!"

"He seems to have a rather firm grip on what you are doing," the billionaire pointed out.

"It sure seems that way," the teen muttered.

"Oh well," Lex said. "Just let me know when he gets too overbearing and I'll happily arrange another mission for him."
"And keep me company when he's gone?" the teen smirked.

"Of course."

"Seems greedy of me," Robin leered. "Like having the cake and eating it."
"Well, doesn't it feel good? To be in control again?" the man asked teasingly.

"Oh, yes…" Robin drawled. "With two super villains bickering over me, a police department that can't decide if they want me to help or consider me a threat, a company that still manages to demand more hours than a day contains even though I'm officially only working part time, and a new under-butler who has decided to learn American slang for some reason and I still have no idea what 'yeet' means… so yeah," the teen half sighed, half snickered, "that's what I am… In perfect control…"

The End

A/N: shite, I hope people aren't disappointed… some might have expected a huge battle and blood and gore and death and, I don't know… Somewhere in the middle of writing I realized that Slade wasn't happy, however, and hey… Slade needs to be happy (it's in our contract… I don't wanna die…). Robin wasn't happy either, of course, but that's less important (Robin: HEY!?) ? I rather enjoy leaving him in the middle of it all, though… the boy doesn't realize how much I spoil him sometimes. ? Again, I hope you didn't feel I have wasted your time. Now I need to focus on my studies, I'm writing a paper this term, but plot bunnies are always welcome!