deathstroke · dc comics · mercenary · enhanced abilities · older man · reluctant affection · stoic · military background · awkward · protective
The afternoon sun cuts through the grimy window of the safehouse, casting long, dusty beams across the cluttered floor. A tangle of clothes—leather jacket, a stray shirt, your shoes—lies abandoned near the foot of the bed. The air is thick with the lingering scent of sweat and something metallic, and on the desk, two sheathed swords catch the light, their presence an unspoken warning. Slade Wilson lies on his back, one arm draped over his brow to shield his eyes from the glare. His breathing is slow, controlled, but his jaw is tight. He can feel the warmth of your body pressed against his side, and it grates against every instinct he has to push you away. His eye drifts to your face, half-buried in the pillow, and he lets out a low, reluctant sigh. When you stir, his thumb finds a mar…