Intro...

Hi my name is Sara. I'm 22 years old and bisexual. I am permanently horny 24/7, which is a curse because I have trouble focusing on anything other than sex. I have been reading the stories here at Literotica for a couple of years now because they help to get me off, especially the 'Loving Wives' stories for some strange reason. I'm very broad minded and in to most things except scat (eeuww!).

I've been sexually active for a while now, I was definitely an early starter although obviously we can't discuss underage sex here. I've decided to start writing about my sexual exploits here as a creative way to try and deal with my obsession. I hope you will like my efforts.

Sara at the Nudist Beach

My grandparents live in beautiful sunny Tenerife and I usually visit at least twice a year for a cheap holiday in the sun.

On one of my earliest visits to the island they introduced me to their good friend Sue. Sue is in her mid thirties and widowed. Sue and her husband were naturists and swingers I discovered gradually.

Sue was really nice and drove me around the island, showing me the tourist sites etc and introducing me to some of her younger friends, which was nice as my grandparent's friends were mostly older people that had retired to the sun.

Sue rang early one morning and asked if I would like to go to the beach with her. I said yes and she picked me up around 11 just as the heat of the day was beginning to build.

As we were driving she explained that the beach we were going to was popular with naturists and it was one of her favourites that she used to visit often with her husband. She said that clothing was optional but that there was no pressure to be naked and that there was usually a mix of naturists and non naturists.

Well I've always been broad minded and certainly not embarrassed to be seen naked. Truth be told I've always been an exhibitionist and enjoy people ogling at me. So I was really looking forward to our day.

The 'beach' such as it was turned out to be a rocky promontory that extended out into the Atlantic Ocean. Amirilla (Yellow) Mountain they call it.

Sue led me too the very far end of the outcropping, a difficult walk over some rough terrain, and we passed a few people who, as Sue had promised, were in various states of undress, all very laid back and casual.

There wasn't any sand at the 'beach' but rather many areas where the rock had been worn very smooth and was ideal for getting comfortable.

We found a small secluded spot, got naked and spread ourselves out to catch some of the gorgeous sunny rays.

As the day progressed the area got busier and busier and was filling up quickly. It was a beautiful day and Sue informed me it was a bank holiday in Spain therefore there were more locals than usual.

About 2 O'clock a couple of very tanned local guys approached asking did we mind if they shared our bit of rock as there were very few decent spots left.

We made room for them and chatted casually whilst they got themselves comfortable. Kiko did most of the talking as his English was the best. They began to disrobe and I pretended to be staring out to sea. However, I couldn't help but sneak a few crafty glances at their emerging bodies.

These guys definitely worked out, a lot, they were in great shape and almost black from their time living in the hot tropical sun.

I was just wondering to myself would they be getting totally naked, when Kiko whipped off his tight speedos just a few feet from my face. I feigned disinterest and continued looking out to sea for any passing ships.

Then it was Paco's turn. He was wearing baggie surfer shorts which he slowly pulled down his thighs. As he did so the largest penis I've ever seen popped out to say hello, it reached most of the way to his knees and was very fat. I continued to stare nonchalantly out to sea but I'm sure everyone must have noticed that my eyes nearly popped out of my head. If they didn't notice that then they must surely have heard my huge intake of breath.

Sue continued the conversation with them whilst they got comfortable on their towels. They pulled out some suntan oil and began to cover their bodies. Neither of them were shy and they were very careful about making sure their cocks were well covered in the oil.

They then asked would we mind doing their backs for them. Well this was obviously a terrible chore for us, not! We gently applied the oil to their backs, I did Paco.

We then got into a conversation about suntan oils and how to get rich deep tans such as theirs. They insisted that the oil they used was their secret weapon and that we should try it. So that's how we came to have two hot guys massaging oil into our backs.

I was laid face down and Paco was gently applying the lotion to my back. He was very gentle and the massaging rhythm was making me feel pretty good. I'm sure that my back was well protected by now but he continued to stroke my skin and I was in no mood to stop him.

I glanced over at Sue who was laid on her back with Kiko massaging oil into her legs. I don't know why that was necessary but from the look on Sue's face who cares.

Paco was now massaging oil into my bare ass. His gentle caresses were making me so horny I thought I would come just from this simple pleasure. I felt a finger gently running down the crease of my ass and begin to nudge at my ass-hole.

I looked round at Paco and our eyes met. He inquired with his eyes 'do you want me to stop?'. I closed my eyes and laid my head down on the towel. He took this as a green light and his finger slipped gently into my ass.

I sighed audibly, not caring if anyone heard. Paco's finger began to wiggle in my ass. He pushed harder and I knew it was all the way in. I felt him adjusting his position beside me and when I opened my eyes his huge cock was inches from my face.

I closed my eyes again and he began working his finger in and out of my ass quickly building up a rapid tempo. I was squirming hard now bucking against his firm hands, I'd never cum from anal sex before but this was quickly getting me to the point of no return.

I had to look around to see if anyone had noticed what was going on. I glanced at Sue who was on her back with Kiko's fingers working in and out of her pussy, she was totally oblivious to anything and clearly at the point of cumming herself.

I looked down the cliffs and everyone seemed to be going about their own business. Then Paco directed my gaze up the cliffs to where a single guy was sat wanking his hard cock not 10ft away with his eyes glued to the action.

That was enough for me, the sight of guys wanking is one of my biggest turn ons. I ground my ass hard into Paco's hand and had a huge orgasm. My sphincter muscle was pulsating around his finger clenching and unclenching wildly.

As I relaxed I looked around at Sue who was sat looking at me with the biggest most satisfied grin I'd ever seen. 'Wow!' she said, 'how amazing was that?' Pretty god-damned amazing I admitted.

'So what are you going to do for us?' asked Kiko.

I looked around and there was Paco with his giant manhood stood at full attention. It had to be well over 10 inches long and fat as fuck. Obviously we had to return the favours but we were in the middle of a public beach.

I looked to Sue for guidance and she was already pushing Kiko onto his back. She swung a leg over and quickly mounted his solid shaft. I looked around to see who might be watching and still everyone appeared to be busy with their own lives.

I glanced up at our voyeuristic friend who was still wanking his own hard member and was gesticulating for me to follow Sue's example.

'Oh fuck it' I thought 'what the hell', I pushed Paco down and straddled him. 'Fuck' I thought 'I'm never going to get all that cock in my tight little pussy'.

I didn't have to worry long though, as soon as I was in position Paco grabbed my hips and speared himself into my cunt. I gasped with shock and pain but quickly stretched to accommodate him. He held my hips tight and held me firm on his huge cock. I began to squirm, rotating and grinding my hips into his pelvis, he held me firmly in place impaled on his engorged cock.

I could feel another orgasm quickly mounting, my hips began to squirm and rotate faster and faster, I wanted to buck and slide up and down but he held me firmly down on his cock, I could feel the tip of him way up inside, his massive girth was stretching my pussy lips wide.

Then the waves broke, I could feel myself gushing all over his cock, his whole body went rigid and he forced himself even further up inside of me, I thought he would puncture my lungs, and then the delicious spurt as his hot spunk splashed against my inner walls.

I collapsed on top of him, drained and shaking, I looked up to see our friend shooting a stream of spunk all over his belly. I looked around at Sue, at some point they had switched positions and Kiko was now on top, he pulled out of Sue and sent a stream of spunk shooting up her belly towards her tits.

Sue looked at me and smiled contentedly, Paco and Kiko exchanged an exaggerated high five and then we all collapsed in a fit of hysterical giggles.


Steve’s first feeling upon graduating high school was relief.

He wouldn’t have to see Eddie every day anymore, and maybe, just maybe, those feelings would fade away. They hadn’t in the years that had passed between that summer and freshman year, but maybe that was because he had only just recognized what those feelings were. Maybe now that they weren’t newly realized, they could disappear.

And they almost had, in the year that had been consumed by the Mind Flayer and its aftermath. He hadn’t thought about Eddie much at all when he had been getting the shit beat out of him by real-life Russian spies or running for his life from unearthly horrors for the third time in as many years. He hadn’t thought about much besides surviving.

Then Dustin started high school. And he joined Hellfire Club.

Initially, Steve had been stoked that there was someplace that Dustin could feel at home in his nerdiness, especially when the Byerses moved to California and Dustin’s original D&D party was fractured into a million little pieces. His excitement was dampened when he remembered that Eddie was still in high school and Dustin started talking about how

cool

the club president was and every other word that left his mouth was

Eddie.

Dustin accused him of being jealous that he had another older friend, but that wasn’t it at all. He was jealous that

Dustin

 got to listen to all of Eddie’s stories, for hours and hours on end. He hated how much he wished that it could be him. He even considered going inside the school and listening when he came to pick Dustin up from his meetings, but he restrained himself. Eddie wouldn’t want him there. Eddie never wanted to see him again.

As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have a choice, and neither did Steve. Eddie had to go and get himself tangled up in the Vecna ordeal. It was hardly his fault that a girl had died on his ceiling. Steve knew that, but he couldn’t help but be annoyed with the other boy for not being careful. And with himself. Steve wished he had been able to protect Eddie from this.

He’d tried. He’d tried to protect Eddie and

all

 of Hawkins from this thing, but it was so much bigger than him. It was too big to beat off with a stick. Or a bat covered in nails.

Everything happened so quickly: Eddie, at Skull Rock, crouched like a terrified, wounded animal in a place he had once been so happy. Eddie, in the boat, watching Steve as he stripped off his shirt, too scared to even enjoy the weight of Eddie’s eyes on him. Eddie, throwing his stupid fucking vest in his face for his

modesty

, and Steve’s stomach turning when he pulled it on, fully enveloped in the smell of

home

. Eddie, telling him to go for Nancy, as if everything Steve wanted wasn’t standing right next to him, frightened and beautiful, in that fucked up Bizzaro version of the woods where they had spent that perfect summer. Eddie, roughhousing with Dustin as they prepared for the battle with Vecna, making it so easy to imagine a world after all this blew over where all three of them were friends, instead of civilly sharing custody of the boy they had both adopted as a little brother.

Eddie. Bleeding out in front of him, when Steve

told

 him not to be cute, not to be a hero. That was

Steve’s

 job. He had promised himself.

I’d never let anything get you, Eds.

But he’d promised that before he’d known about any of this, about Venca and demodogs and flesh-eating bats.

Now, all he could do was keep Eddie alive.

They’d been dropped off Hopper’s cabin in the woods to hide out until everything settled down. The rest of the group had gone with Max to the hospital. He couldn’t think about Max (her arms and legs twisted at inhuman angles, the blood streaming from her eyes); he was sure he would vomit if he let himself fully process just how much pain she must be in.

Now, he was standing over Eddie, unconscious on the couch, and he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, staring. It felt like hours. Eddie was so still, so quiet. It was so easy to imagine him in a casket.

“Steve, we need to change your bandages,” Robin said softly, tugging at his arm.

He brushed her hand away, collapsing to his knees next to the couch.

“Steve.”

“Him first,” he whispered, brushing Eddie’s hair away from his forehead.

“I don’t even know where to start with him,” Robin said, unable to hide the tremor in her voice.

“Get the first aid kit,” Steve said, motioning towards the kitchen. “And a knife.”

Robin handed him both. He took the knife and began cutting away Eddie’s shirt, carefully pulling the tattered fabric away where it stuck to Eddie’s wounds.

“You clean his arms. I’ll do his…” Steve motioned vaguely to the entirety of Eddie’s torso.

“Okay,” Robin whispered.

They started dousing cotton balls in rubbing alcohol.

“This is gonna hurt, Eds,” Steve said softly, even though he was sure the other boy couldn’t hear him. “I’m sorry.”

He dabbed at the wounds on Eddie’s stomach, heaving a sigh of relief when he found they weren’t that deep once the blood was cleaned away.

“Steve?” Robin asked, holding up Eddie’s arm gingerly.

Steve turned to look at her, expecting to find that she had found a place where the bats had chewed through to the bone or had torn out some vital artery.

Instead, he found Robin looking down at Eddie’s bracelet, stained brown with dried blood. She had the bead with the barely visible ‘S’ stamped into it pinched between her fingers.

She had asked Steve about his own bracelet a million times, and he had always brushed it off. “It’s just someone I used to… care about,” he’d say. There must have been something in his voice when he said it because Robin had quit asking. Sometimes, he’d catch her looking at it with a sympathetic glint in her eye, but she didn’t bring it up again. Until now.

“What’s this?” she asked quietly, watching him carefully.

“Later, Rob,” he said, turning back to begin work on Eddie’s chest.

“Your ‘E’. I always figured it was an Emily or an Emma. Maybe an Eleanor. But it’s Eddie, isn’t it?” she pressed on.

He didn’t answer.

She reached out, stilling his hands where they were on Eddie’s chest.

“Steve.”

“Yes, okay? It’s Eddie,” he said, pulling his hands back. He took Eddie’s right hand and turned it over, showing her the scar before she found that, too, and began asking more questions.

Robin’s eyes went wide.

“You said that scar was from an accident,” she breathed.

“I said it was a mistake,” Steve said, dropping Eddie’s hand carefully and cleaning the wounds on his neck. “Not an accident.”

“What is it?”

“It’s from a blood oath. We promised we’d always be friends.”

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” Robin said.

“I didn’t want you to,” Steve said. “It was embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing to care about someone,” Robin said, going back to tending to Eddie’s wounds on his forearm.

“It’s embarrassing when they hate your guts,” Steve said.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Robin said, dropping a blood-stained cotton ball into their growing pile of discards on the floor.

Steve paused.

“What makes you think that?”

“I spent a lot of time watching you, Steve, remember?” Robin said, moving around the couch so she could tend to Eddie’s other arm. “So, I noticed when other people were watching you.”

“You’re saying

he

 watched

me

?” Steve asked, his breath catching in his throat. He watched Eddie incessantly. He would have noticed if Eddie was watching him in return.

“All the time,” Robin said. “I figured he had a little crush on you.”

“No,” Steve said, laughing humorlessly. “No, he was probably plotting my demise.”

“I’ve never seen someone look so fondly at a person while plotting their death,” Robin said.

Steve shook his head.

“He hates me, Rob,” he said. “He probably wouldn’t even want me to help him if he was awake.”

Robin fell quiet.

He picked up a tube of medicated ointment, slathering it over the wounds they had already cleaned. He began wrapping Eddie’s arm, securing the gauze with medical tape when he finished.

“Help me lift him,” Steve said.

Robin hooked her hands under Eddie’s shoulders, struggling to lift his dead weight off the couch. Steve worked quickly, wrapping gauze haphazardly around Eddie’s torso. When Robin set him back down, the wrap job was messy, but it was good enough to make sure the medicated ointment stayed on and any additional bleeding would be soaked up.

Steve rummaged through the bedroom that had once been Hopper’s. He found a moth-eaten flannel and brought it out to Eddie, gingerly pulling it onto the other boy’s body. He buttoned it up to hold in what little warmth Eddie’s body was capable of retaining. Robin appeared with an equally ratty blanket, handing it to Steve so he could cover Eddie.

“Do you think he will be okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s not as bad as it looked when we found him,” Robin said, taking Steve’s hand in hers. “He’s in shock, I think. But he’ll be okay.”

“It hurts,” Steve said, remembering his own wounds for the first time in hours. He brought a hand to his stomach, his skin burning hot under the wrappings. The wounds throbbed, threatening to bring him to his knees. If he felt like this, he couldn’t imagine how Eddie would feel when he woke up. “He’s in so much pain.”

“We’ll give him something when he wakes up,” Robin said. “Now, let’s take care of you.”

He let Robin lead him into the kitchen, cutting away the cloth that wrapped around his stomach. He hissed as she wiped his wounds with rubbing alcohol.

“Is it bad?” he asked, unable to look down.

“It’s not good. Definitely not as bad as Eddie’s, but also not ideal,” Robin said. She looked a little green in the face as she began wrapping him with clean bandages. “Do you need painkillers?”

Steve glanced towards the couch, towards Eddie.

“Save them for him,” Steve said.

“He’d want you to take them if you need them,” Robin said.

“Save them,” he repeated.

“Steve, do you…” Robin trailed off, looking up at him questioningly.

“Do I what?”

“Define care,” she said. “When you say you cared about Eddie.”

“It’s kindergarten-level vocabulary, Rob, you know what I mean,” Steve said, glaring at her.

She took his hand again, squeezing it.

“I’m just wondering if you’re using that word when you really mean a different four-letter word. A bigger, scarier one,” Robin said.

Steve let his eyes find Eddie again, his heart clenching at the motionless figure on the couch.

“Sometimes I wish you didn’t know me so well,” he said, his voice faltering. “But yeah. Yeah, I love him. I have for a long time.”

“When did it start?” Robin asked.

“1978,” Steve said.

“Tell me,” Robin said.

“It’s a long story.”

“We have time.”

Steve sighed.

He sank down into the kitchen chair across from Robin.

He began talking.

Robin listened.

****

He’d taken it upon himself to stay with Eddie. He’d only left once, to go sit with Max for an hour while the others went home to shower and change and then go home and shower himself.

But he wanted to be there when Eddie woke up.

Eddie began to stir around six in the evening on the second day.

Steve was sitting at the kitchen table, sorting through the new first aid kit Robin had dropped off.

“Hello?” a broken, raspy voice asked, making Steve jump.

He hurried over to the couch, crouching next to Eddie.

“Hey,” Steve said, his throat tight. “Hey. You’re awake.”

“Stevie?” Eddie asked, his face lighting up as he tried to sit. He grimaced when he found he couldn’t. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“I know,” Steve said.

“Did we get him?” Eddie asked.

“We got him,” Steve said, smiling.

“Max?”

“She’s… alive,” Steve said, tentatively. “In worse shape than you. She’s still unconscious.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“We don’t know, Eds,” Steve said.

Eddie tried to lift his hands to his face but found the movement hurt too badly, too.

“Fuck. Is there any place they didn’t fucking bite?”

“Your face looks okay,” Steve said, touching the cuts on Eddie’s chin, then his cheek. “Just a couple of nibbles here and there.”

“As long as I’m still pretty, that’s all that matters,” Eddie said with a weak smile.

Steve smiled back, shaking his head.

“What’d you have to go and do that for?” Steve asked, his fingers tracing the line of Eddie’s cheekbone. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I wanted to help,” Eddie said.

“You could have done that without getting eaten alive,” Steve said.

Eddie shrugged.

“I said I wouldn’t let anything get you,” Steve whispered.

“It wasn’t your fault, Stevie,” Eddie said. “You couldn’t save me from myself.”

“Don’t do it again,” Steve said.

“Trust me, I don’t plan to.”

“Good.”

Eddie laughed, cutting himself off with a wince.

“Now that you’re awake, let’s get those bandages changed, huh?” Steve said, getting up to get supplies from the kitchen.

“It’s going to hurt like a motherfucker, huh?”

“It’s not gonna feel good,” Steve agreed.

“We have anything to take the edge off?” Eddie asked.

“I have some pills, but they won’t kick in straight away,” Steve said.

“I was thinking something more of the liquid variety,” Eddie said.

“I have whiskey,” Steve said.

“That’ll do,” Eddie said.

Steve brought over the first aid kit and the bottle of whiskey.

“Just a little bit,” Steve said, taking off the lid. “You’re really dehydrated. Open.”

Eddie opened his mouth and Steve poured out a generous gulp, pausing to let Eddie swallow. Steve wiped an errant drop from Eddie’s lower lip with his thumb.

“More?” Steve asked.

Eddie cleared his throat.

“Maybe a little,” he said.

Steve tried to avoid making eye contact with Eddie as he poured out another mouthful. A heat spread through his belly as if he were the one taking shots instead of administering them. He fixed his eyes on the line of Eddie’s neck, as if that was somehow safer than his eyes, watching the muscles move as he swallowed again. When that did nothing to quell the heat in his stomach, he turned away and took a swig from the bottle himself. He went back to the kitchen and washed his hands.

“How’d you end up playing Florence Nightingale for me? Did you draw the short straw?” Eddie asked.

Steve returned to his side, kneeling on the floor next to the couch. He took the little medical scissors from the new kit and began cutting the bandages away from Eddie’s arm.

“I volunteered,” Steve said, gingerly pulling away the wrappings. “Actually, I insisted.”

“Oh.”

“I can see if someone else would stay with you if you’d be more comfortable with that,” Steve said, tentatively.

“No,” Eddie replied quickly. “No, I’d like you to stay. If you want.”

“I do.”

“Okay, cool,” Eddie said.

Steve inspected the newly uncovered wounds. They looked alright. They almost looked like a bad case of road rash, but nothing more sinister than that.

“These are looking okay,” he said.

“That’s good,” Eddie replied.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing here, but I feel like we should let them breathe for a second, right?” Steve said, picking up the scissors again.

“You’re the nurse here, not me. Do whatever you think is right,” Eddie said.

“This is going to hurt more,” Steve said, turning his attention to Eddie’s torso. “They’re the worst of them.”

Eddie nodded, screwing his eyes shut in anticipation of the pain.

He hissed, his hands clenching into fists as Steve began to gently pull the gauze away.

“I know, I’m sorry. I know,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped Eddie. “Almost done. You’re doing so well, Eds.”

He did his best to pull the wrappings out from under Eddie so he wouldn’t have to sit up until it was time to rewrap him.

There was more dried blood on Eddie’s torso than there had been on his arms. Steve carefully cleaned it away, wincing in sympathy each time Eddie’s stomach spasmed at his touch.

“Now we’ll have more matching scars,” Steve said, cleaning a gash next to Eddie’s navel.

He had expected Eddie to chuckle at that, or at least give an amused huff.

But Eddie surprised him like he always did.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” he whispered.

Steve glanced up at Eddie’s face and shook his head.

“Save that sorry for when you have more strength, Munson.”

“I should have said something when I came back, I just didn’t know… We were so different,” Eddie continued.

“Eddie. Later.”

“But I–”

“You almost died. We can talk about it later. Right now, I’m just glad you’re talking at all,” Steve said his voice firm.

Eddie fell quiet, watching as Steve applied disinfectant to his wounds, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Told you so,” Eddie said.

“Told me what?” Steve asked, spreading a thin layer of Neosporin over a graze on Eddie’s hipbone. Eddie’s skin was too hot, feverish, under his fingers.

“That you’d be good at this. Taking care of things,” Eddie said. “When you wanted a dog, remember?”

“You’re not a dog, Eds,” Steve said, unable to keep a smile from his lips.

“The way I acted, I’m as good as one,” Eddie said.

“A dog wouldn’t have treated me like that,” Steve said.

“You’re right,” Eddie said. “And you’re taking care of me, anyway.”

Steve swallowed.

“I can’t believe you remember saying that,” Steve said, quietly.

“I remember everything, Stevie,” Eddie said, his eyes fluttering shut as Steve started applying the ointment to his arms.

The words hung between them as Steve finished cleaning and medicating Eddie’s wounds.

“Do you think you can sit up?” Steve asked.

“Do I have a choice?” Eddie asked, grimacing.

“Not really,” Steve said.

“Then I guess the answer is yes,” Eddie said. “Give me a hand.”

Steve stood and took both of Eddie’s hands, hauling him up into a sitting position.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “That’s awful. It’s really fucking terrible, Steve.”

“I’ll make it quick,” Steve promised, picking up a roll of gauze and beginning to wrap at Eddie’s waist.

Eddie’s breath quickened. His hands gripped the edge of the couch cushions as he struggled to keep himself upright.

“Hold onto me, Eds,” Steve said.

Eddie’s fingers scrambled for purchase until he hooked them into Steve’s belt loops with such force Steve was sure he would rip them off.

“Steve,” Eddie breathed, his face twisted terribly with effort.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. Just a couple more seconds,” Steve said, abandoning any hope that his dressings would be neat in favor of getting Eddie comfortable.

“Alright,” he said after securing the bandages.

He dropped the gauze into the open first aid kit, taking Eddie’s hands from his waist and guiding Eddie back down onto the couch.

“Why does it hurt so bad?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know. Can bats have venom?” Steve asked.

“I don’t think it matters what normal bats can have. These are like… Evil, fucked up bats. They can have

anything

,” Eddie said.

“Then maybe it’s that,” Steve said.

“Maybe. I just know it hurts and I’m tired,” Eddie said.

“Then sleep,” Steve said, smoothing a hand over Eddie’s hair.

Eddie closed his eyes.

****

Eddie slept through most of the third day. The pain pills made Eddie tired, but when he was awake, he was incredibly silly. Steve worried that he had maybe given him too high of a dose.

Steve was checking under Eddie’s bandages before he went to sleep on the pallet he had set up next to the couch. The areas around the wounds were still a little red, radiating heat. He pressed his hand against Eddie’s forehead and found it a little clammy, but not over-warm.

Eddie startled him by speaking, his eyes still closed.

“Feel weird,” Eddie mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Eds,” Steve said. “But the good news is you’re not hot, so that means no fever, which means no infection.”

“

You’re

 hot.”

Steve felt his own forehead. It felt fine. He wasn’t surprised; his own wounds were healing quite nicely.

“No, I’m fine, too.”

“Stupid. You’re stupid, Steve,” Eddie mumbled, glaring at him.

Steve shot him a puzzled look.

“Not as stupid as you, Mr. Hero,” he retorted.

“No, not as stupid as me,” Eddie agreed with a chuckle.

“Go back to sleep, Eds,” Steve said.

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Eddie,” Steve said.

He put Eddie’s bandages back in place and laid down on his makeshift bed on the floor. He had only just settled in when Eddie spoke again.

“Steve?”

“I’m still here,” Steve said.

“Just checking.”

“Okay,” Steve said, smiling to himself in the darkness.

“Stevie?”

“What, Eddie?”

“Still here?”

“Yes, Eddie,” Steve laughed. “It’s only been about ten seconds.”

He’d have to take Eddie’s dosage down tomorrow.

“St-”

“Eddie. I am and will continue to be here,” Steve said. “Go to sleep.”

“Wasn’t going to say that,” Eddie said.

“What were you going to say?” Steve said.

“Thank you,” Eddie said.

“Oh,” Steve said. “You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t have to,” Eddie said. “Do this, I mean.”

“I know that. I wanted to,” Steve said.

“Thank you. For wanting to,” Eddie said.

Steve stared up into the darkness, his cheeks burning, a pleasant feeling bubbling up in his chest.

He didn’t say

I’ll always want to, Eddie.

But he hoped Eddie knew, just the same.

****

On the fifth day, Eddie was able to get up and move around on his own.

“I would kill for a fucking cigarette,” he said, sitting up on the couch.

“I don’t know, Eds,” Steve said warily.

“Come on. Half of one. Split it with me,” Eddie pleaded.

“Okay, but outside so the others don’t smell it,” Steve conceded.

They sat on the front steps, passing the cigarette back and forth between them.

“So let me get this straight. You’ve been dealing with this for years, and you still graduated before me?” Eddie asked.

“Yep,” Steve said.

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Eddie pouted.

“Oh, yeah, it’s totally unfair that I graduated high school while dealing with horrors beyond human comprehension,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Not all of it was horrors. Some of it was espionage,” Eddie pointed out.

“That was after high school,” Steve said.

“You really took down a Russian spy operation in a tiny little sailor suit?”  Eddie asked, taking a drag off the cigarette before shooting him a leary smile.

“Mhm.”

“Steve Harrington, you’re my hero,” Eddie teased.

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve laughed.

“I saw you at the mall, you know. Before it blew up, obviously. But I saw the sailor suit,” Eddie said, passing the cigarette back to Steve.

“Jesus Christ. You must have thought that was really funny,” Steve groaned.

“Funny? No. That’s not what I thought,” Eddie said.

“What did you think?”

“

Helloooo

, sailor,” Eddie grinned, wagging his eyebrows.

“Now you’re just being mean,” Steve said, glaring at Eddie as he took a draw on the cigarette.

“No, I really mean that. I love a man in teeny, tiny uniform. The teeny, tinier the better, that’s what I always say,” Eddie said.

“I’ve never heard you say that.”

“Well, I say it. All the time,” Eddie said. “Do you still have the uniform?”

Steve hesitated.

“No.”

“Oh my god, you

do

,” Eddie said, and Steve didn’t love the look on his face. He felt like he was a tiny animal being stared down by an apex predator. A very handsome apex predator.

“I don’t.”

“You totally do.”

“No.”

“Can I see you in it?” Eddie asked, leaning forward.

“You already saw me.”

“Can I see it again?”

“No.”

“Can I try it on?”

Steve paused, considering this for a moment. Eddie in those little shorts was too good to pass up.

“Maybe,” he said, finally.

“So you

do

 still have it,” Eddie said, triumphantly.

Steve reached out to slap him (gently, of course, as he was still healing) but Eddie caught his hand. Steve’s breath hitched as Eddie didn’t drop his hand, instead, manuvering it so he could link his pinky with Steve’s, letting their joined hands rest between them on the porch stairs.

He swallowed, looking away from Eddie. He looked up at the night sky, his eyes catching on a familiar spot of light that hung there amongst the stars.

He felt Eddie studying him, wishing desperately that the other man would look away.

“Do you think they could still live happily ever after?” Eddie asked.

“Who?” Steve asked.

“The knight and the weary traveler,” Eddie said.

Steve sighed.

“I don’t know, Eds,” he said.

“The traveler has kind of been a piece of shit,” Eddie said.

Steve laughed.

“Yeah. Yeah, he has,” he agreed.

“But he’ll do anything to make it up to the knight,” Eddie continued, falling into their old rhythm, his pinky tightening around Steve’s.

“Then he should rest and get better before he worries about anything else,” Steve said.

“Is that really all he has to do?” Eddie asked, bumping his shoulder against Steve’s.

“And never,

ever

 almost get killed again,” Steve added.

“That’s reasonable,” Eddie laughed.

“And stop pretending I don’t exist,” Steve continued.

“I thought we were talking about the knight and the traveler,” Eddie said.

“

Eddie

.”

Eddie shifted uncomfortably where he sat.

“I won’t pretend you don’t exist,” he said quietly. “Almost getting eaten alive by hell bats on steroids makes you really stop and think about what’s important to you.”

“It does tend to have that effect,” Steve said.

“Turns out, your existence is pretty high up there on the list,” Eddie said.

Steve closed his eyes.

“Number one on the list, actually,” Eddie said.

Steve nodded, feeling more than a little shaken. He wasn’t ready to talk about this, even though he had spent a better part of a decade waiting. The reality of Eddie, friendly and sweet and right there next to him like he had been all those years ago, knocked him flat on his ass.

“Stevie –”

“Let’s get you back inside, huh? You need to eat,” Steve said, pulling his hand away as he stood from the step.

Eddie looked up at him for a long stretch before nodding.

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “But you have to let me help make dinner.”


If you asked Jason, Dick Grayson was dating all the wrong men. He had bad taste in people as a general rule, everyone knew it, but it seemed to Jason that the older he got, the worse his taste in partners got. He’d some good people when he was younger: Barbara, Kori, and Roy to name a few, but his current fling was just disturbing. It was an all new low for Dick Grayson: disaster extraordinare. It was so bad that Jason didn’t even want to think about it, because if he did he threw up in his mouth a little.

Dick Grayson was dating Slade “I kill people for a living” Wilson.

Jason had been reasonably sure his eyes were deceiving him, but the kiss had just gone on for so long. Slade had Dick wrapped up in massive arms, while Dick’s hands wound their way into Slade’s hair.

They’d been working with Slade because being around Dick usually made his dubious morality come out and play and they’d needed a known mercenary to go undercover for them. Jason was regretting asking him now, now that he had big hands spread over Dick’s back, and one hand in particular was reaching farther and farther toward indecency. Jason watched, one eye twitching, as they finally broke the kiss. Dick smiled lightly and ran his hand through Slade’s hair.

“Thank you for helping,” he said softly, like they were having some quiet emotional moment or something. Jason felt a little bit like he was going to puke.

“Anything for you beautiful,” Slade replied. Jason choked on air. Slade finally turned away and jumped off the roof, his grapple line catching and swinging his body away.

There was silence for a long moment as Dick stood watching Slade retreat. The line of his shoulders was tense, and he wouldn’t look back at Jason. Jason who hadn’t really known up until this point that the golden boy was dating the world’s worst. Which was a lot of hypocrisy to come from Bruce’s little “no killing” prodigy. How many times had he lectured Jason for not being a better man? Then he goes and sucks face with one of the worst men in the world. Jason folded his arms across his chest and felt a lecture brewing.

Finally Dick sighed.

“Lay it on me,” he said, resigned.

“What the fuck, Dickie?” Jason snapped.

“Look, it was a long time coming. We’re just seeing where it goes,” he replied. That didn’t make any more sense to Jason than the rest of the situation did.

“What the hell are you talking about? The guy’s got to be at least a decade and a half older than you! Plus, he kills people for a living! What the hell do you have to say about that? What does Bruce think?”

Dick sighed, and turned fully to look at him.

“Bruce knows, and he doesn’t like it either. Look, Jason, I get it, okay? I don’t think it’s going to last, but I’d like to at least see where it’s going. Slade and I have a long history together, it’s worth a shot.”

Jason felt like oddly like he was in an episode of the Twilight Zone, or maybe Punk’d. He subtly looked for cameras or maybe Ashton Kutcher.

“Dick, what are you going to do when you’re on opposite sides, or when he kills someone who didn’t deserve to die?” Jason asked. He wasn’t thinking about himself, not really, but it was hard not to be at least a little bit jealous. Slade was worse than Jason by all accounts, and really, what did Slade Wilson have that Jason didn’t? It wasn’t really that Jason had a thing for Dick, only, he sort of did, but so did pretty much everyone who laid eyes on Dick. He was the ultimate kind of handsome. Jason had his first sex dream about Dick, and while he wouldn’t go so far as to say he was in love with him or anything, he wouldn’t have said no if given the chance to go out with Dick. Only, here was Slade Wilson, Deathstroke, holding Dick, touching him like he owned him, and it made Jason sort of furious.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Dick said. If anything that just shocked Jason even more. Did he think they were going to last long enough to face that situation? Was he so serious about Slade that he would be willing to compromise on his twisted morals and his job as a mercenary? Jason didn’t want to admit it, but Slade must really mean something to Dick if he was willing to look past all that. Would he be willing to look past it for other people, too? For Jason?

No, he was stopping that train of thought right there. There was no need to continue along those lines, especially when Dick was clearly into someone else.

“Is it serious?” Jason asked. That was the more pressing issue here, anyway. Dick sighed, then shrugged.

“I can’t say yes,” he said.

“But you can’t say no, either,” Jason finished for him. Dick nodded.

“This is ridiculous, Dick, he’s a  villain ,” Jason protested, bewildered.

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“I’m not a mercenary!”

“No, Jason, you’re just a crime lord.” With that final remark, Dick twisted off the roof and flew through the air, headed back in the direction of his apartment. Jason stood there, a little hurt but mostly confused. It was true, he’d been a crime lord, sort of still was. Only he hadn’t been a  real  crime lord. He’d killed people and assimilated territory, sure, but he was only doing it to dismantle the really bad syndicates, and to put a better one in their place. He had hard limits. No people trafficking, no drugs to kids, no prostitution. He’d say that compared to some of the other syndicates he was down right Mother Teresa. Only, maybe not when compared to Deathstroke. They were too similar for Jason to be entirely comfortable. Neither of them could claim to be good people, and yet Dick wasn’t willing to give up on either one of them, not like someone else might have so easily.

Jason sighed, it wasn’t really his place to question Slade or Dick, but someone should before Dick did something he’d regret.

Jason turned in the opposite direction and began the long journey back home. He flew through the rooftops, contemplating the night’s events. If it was true that Bruce knew about Dick and Slade, then Jason might just have to go see the Big Bad Bat, and see what he really thought about his precious golden boy dating a killer.

----

Jason landed hard on his fire escape and pried open the window. He slipped inside and felt himself relax at the sight of the penthouse apartment he shared with Roy Harper.

“Hey, Jaybird,” Roy called from where he sat on the couch playing with Lian. They were playing some kind of card game that looked a little too much like poker. Lian held her cards in front of her face, which was expressionless, as she stared her father down. Roy held his cards a little bit lower so she could see the ridiculous expressions he made as he studied his hand. Jason smiled at them and made his way to the kitchen.

“Do we have anything for dinner?” He asked.

“Just take-out unless you want to make something.”

Jason nodded and pulled out a pot for spaghetti. He gathered the ingredients for meat sauce and began to boil water. He was silent for a long moment before deciding to confide in Roy.

“Hey, Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you know Dick’s dating Slade Wilson?”

There was a sharp gasp and then silence from the other room. Jason heard footsteps and turned to see Roy standing in the doorway, a completely dumbfounded look on his face.

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah, I had to do a case with them tonight-”

“That private security deal? The one with the human traffickers and their mercenary army?”

“Yeah, that one. Anyway, I was working on it with them, and it all went smoothly, which, of course, is a first, but then we met up at the rendezvous, and Slade kissed Dick goodbye. And not like a peck on the cheek or some shit, but a full on scar me for life french style goodbye kiss,” Jason said, sounding a little desperate.

“Wow,” Roy said, dazed. “Isn’t that against his little holier than thou bat code?”

“No shit, and then he said it had been a long time coming. What the fuck does  that  mean?”

Roy shrugged. “I mean, he isn’t wrong. They’ve sort of had a lot of weird unresolved sexual tension for a really long time. Slade used to hit on him a lot when we were younger, nothing ever happened, but I guess we’re all older now.”

“Not that much older! Dick’s twenty-two, he can barely drink legally. He shouldn’t be fooling around with freaking Deathstroke! I mean I’m pretty sure dating someone with that name alone breaks about every rule in Bruce’s little Robin handbook. I mean, you saw how he reacted when I came back, he’s got to be pissed about this.”

Roy didn’t argue.

Lian came wandering in and reached up for Jason, who picked her up and put her on his shoulders. Her little fingers went straight for his mess of black hair and set about tangling it up.

“So has he told Bruce?” Roy asked, idly stirring the spaghetti while Jason was occupied with keeping Lian from falling off his shoulders.

“He said he did, and that Bruce isn’t happy, but that’s all he said. I almost want to go talk to Bruce and ask him what he’s thinking letting Dick shack up with the likes of Slade.”

Roy shrugged. “Maybe you should,” he said.

Jason jerked around to look at him.

“What do you mean maybe I should?”

“I mean just that. In this particular case I think you and Bruce are probably on the same side. He probably hates this just as much as you do. If you guys work together maybe you can get Dick to see the error of his ways and put a stop to it before it ever really starts.”

Jason raised his brows. “That might be a great idea, Roy.”

Roy shrugged. “I do my best.” He moved the pot off the stove and drained the spaghetti. Jason put Lian down and got to work on the sauce.

When the food was finally ready Jason piled two plates high, and made a smaller plate for Lian. Roy set the table and they all sat down to eat.

“I’ll tell you one thing though,” Roy said around a bite of spaghetti, “you’d better hope Damian already knows.”

----

Damian did not already know.

Jason, like an idiot, pulled into the Batcave, stormed up to Bruce, and just shouted, “What the fuck is up with Dick and Slade Wilson?”

Damian, who had been hidden behind his father’s cloak, stood up sharply.

“What? What are you talking about, Todd? Father? What is Todd talking about?”

Bruce sighed and rubbed his forehead. He shot Jason a small mostly weary glare.

“Dick and Slade are… involved,” he tried. Jason gave him points for effort, but it didn’t stop Damian’s face from purpling with anger.

“ What!?  And you allowed this? Father! How could you allow Deathstroke to defile Grayson!” Damian bellowed. Jason only felt a little bit bad. Damian was right after all, and Bruce deserved some sort of comeuppance for letting this happen.

“Damian-”

“What, Father? What could you possibly say that could excuse this outrage you’ve allowed to happen?”

“I didn’t allow him to do anything, he just did it, you know how he is.”

That didn’t placate Damian in the slightest. His little face was turning a truly fluorescent shade of puce.

“Still! He listens to you, and you could’ve stopped him!”

Alfred appeared out of nowhere and quickly made his way toward them.

“Master Damian, I suggest you come upstairs for dinner. Master Bruce and Master Jason need to have a private conversation,” Alfred said sharply, grabbing Damian’s wrist.

“Unhand me Pennyworth! I am not finished speaking!”“Damian!” Bruce snapped. “Go upstairs. Now.”

Damian huffed, spun sharply on his heel and stomped all the way out of the cave. Jason forgot how young he was sometimes. He forgot that Damian still threw tantrums like the child he was. Maybe Jason would’ve remembered if he was around more often.

Bruce and Jason faced each other in tense silence until the sounds of footsteps disappeared.

“I think he made some excellent points,” Jason said suddenly. “Like, for example, how the fuck could you let this happen?”

Bruce sighed and pulled the cowl off. Now, with the cowl down and Damian gone, Jason could finally see the stress in his shoulders, the lines in his forehead. He looked like he’d aged a decade in seconds.

“Like I said, I didn’t let him do anything. Dick never asked for my permission, he just informed me of his decision. When I tried to talk sense into him he brushed me off and just threw Selina in my face. I told him Selina never killed anyone, but he wasn’t having it. He said I didn’t have to like it, but that I couldn’t do anything about it, and he’s not wrong.” It was probably the most Bruce had spoken to him in a long time. Jason felt his defenses drop, and he slumped into a chair.

“I need to stop this,” he said. Bruce glanced at him.

“Why you?” He asked.

“Because- Because I just- Because he doesn’t understand that I-” Jason cut himself off. He sighed. “Because someone has to, and maybe he’ll listen to me.”

“No,” Bruce said.

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you want him, and that’s why you want to stop it.”

Jason glared at him, “No, I don’t.”

“Yes you do, Jason, you always have. Only recognize that the reasons you’d give Dick for why he shouldn’t be with Slade are the same reasons why he shouldn’t be with you.”

Jason stood sharply. “You really are the most unbelievable ass,” he snarled. Bruce looked up at him.

“All the same, I’d rather he be with you. At least I wouldn’t worry about him if he were with you.”

Jason stood frozen, completely flabbergasted.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re not stupid Jason, don’t act like you are just because you don’t like what I say,” Bruce sighed.

Jason swallowed hard. Bruce wanted Dick to be with him. No- no he preferred Dick with him over Slade. That was an important distinction. Bruce didn’t approve of Jason, he was just the lesser of two evils. Jason nodded.

“Well, even I know I don’t deserve him, so I won’t insult you by saying I’m any better for him than Slade. I don’t think we’ll ever be together, but the least I can do is get him away from Slade,” Jason said decidedly. Bruce nodded, like it was exactly what he expected. It probably was.

“Just be careful with him Jason, he’s always been emotional, you know that.”

Jason nodded. He did know that, they all knew it.

“See you around, Bruce.” With those final words, Jason got back on his bike and rode out of the cave.

----

It turned out that Jason saw Slade again before he saw Dick.

Jason was posing as Red Hood looking for a new drug supplier, and was waiting for a meeting with an up and coming distributor whose operation he was planning on dismantling. He was sitting in the VIP section of a very exclusive club for very bad people while waiting for his meeting, when Slade sat down next to him.

“Red,” Slade greeted. Jason honestly wasn’t sure if Slade knew who he was. Slade knew the Robin’s well simply on the principle of being one of their collective biggest foes, though he’d definitely had more run-in’s with Dick than anyone else. Jason wasn’t sure if Slade had ever recognized his fighting style (though this was unlikely given how much he learned while abroad after the pit), or if Dick had ever told him, but he never called Jason anything other than Red or Hood, and since he referred to the Robin’s generally by first name, Jason had to assume he didn’t know who he was.

“Wilson,” Jason snarled, not even bothering to hide his contempt.

“Dick told me you don’t approve,” Slade began. Jason snorted. That was an understatement.

“No shit,” Jason muttered.

“What I’d like to know is why your opinion matters. Dick wouldn’t tell me, so I thought I’d go to the source.”

That was mildly surprising.

“Fuck off, Wilson, that’s between me and Dick, and if he’s not telling you shit, I don’t know why you think I would.”

Slade gave him a considering look.

“I didn’t really think you will, but I had to ask. No one really knows who you are, so it’s mostly a mystery as to why the bats let you hang around given their general aversion to firearms and murder. I have a theory, of course.”

“Of course you do,” Jason sighed, taking a big swig of his beer.

“My theory is that Jason Todd didn’t actually die in that explosion. Somehow he got away, fooled Batman and the rest of the family into thinking he was dead, and then went off to become a psychopath. Of course, it’s just a theory,” Slade smirked. The fucker knew he was right, but Jason wasn’t about to encourage him. Jason’s greatest strength was the perfect anonymity his death had given him. He wasn’t about to give it up for Slade Wilson.

“Wow, Slade, how one man can be so close and yet so completely wrong I have no idea, but you’ve somehow managed it. I’m not the kid that got blown up by the Joker, shithead.” It was true, he wasn’t, that kid had been killed by a crowbar and a warehouse fire.

Slade looked a little miffed, but it wasn’t Jason’s job to contribute to his ego.

“Look, I’m going to be straight with you here since I don’t like you: Stay the fuck away from Dick Grayson before I make you,” Jason growled. Slade raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“No,” he said simply. Jason swiftly pulled out his gun and clicked off the safety.

“And why, pray tell, not?”

Slade was silent for a long moment. He watched Jason with a considering look, his eyes only minutely flickering down to the gun in Jason’s hand.

“Because I care about him, and I don’t want to let him go,” Slade finally replied. Jason could admit to being shocked, both with what Slade said and how bluntly he said it.

“That’s selfish.”

“I’m a mercenary, being selfish doesn’t even crack the top fifty on my list of sins.”

Jason couldn’t exactly argue with that logic.

“You don’t deserve him.”

“Certainly not, but I have him, and I’m not going to be the one to make him leave.”

“I’m going to shoot you.”

“Go ahead, but maybe later when you don’t have a position to compromise.”

Jason shot him anyway.

The bullet went straight into his abdomen. Slade honestly looked a little surprised, Jason noticed smugly. The patrons of the bar jumped, and looked around at them, but quickly returned to their drinks. This sort of thing happened all the time in this particular establishment.Jason smirked as he watched the wound sluggishly pump out dark red blood.

“Dammit, the bullet didn’t go all the way through,” Slade sighed. Jason snorted.

“I’m sure Dick would be happy to dig it out for you,” he shot back, taking another sip of beer. Slade glared at him, grabbed the knife off the table, and proceeded to dig the bullet out of his gut.

“He’s going to be pissed when I tell him about this,” Slade muttered.

“Let him be, he’s already pissed at me for existing,” Jason shot back. Slade glared at him again, and finally rooted out the bullet. He dropped it and the bloodied knife on the table, then stood. Jason watched in annoyance as his skin began to knit back together.

“Look, kid, I know you hate it, watching me have someone you obviously want-” Jason spluttered, ready to argue, but Slade cut him off, “but he’s mine now, and you need to be a grown up about it because for some reason you and your opinion matter to him. He’s better than all of us, you should really treat him like it more often. Maybe if you did, he’d be with you, not me.”

With that final wisdom Slade stalked away, leaving Jason red-faced and furious. Did everyone know he had a thing for Dick? Had he been that damn transparent?

He stood briskly from the table, and kicked down the door to the office of the supplier he was supposed to be meeting there. The man looked up from the paperwork he was filling out, and his eyes widened in surprise at seeing Jason there. Jason didn’t even bother with a witty remark, he simply pulled out his gun and unloaded in the man. He snatched the bloodied paperwork off his desk and stalked out of the bar, gun still in hand. A few security guards tried to stop him, and Jason grinned under his helmet. He holstered his gun and went in for a fist fight. He was in the mood for a good old fashioned beat down. The first guard that came at him was no bigger than a minute, and Jason had the man flipped and his neck broken within seconds. The second man who came after him met the unfortunate end of some of the bar’s finest silverware. The third man came after Jason with a gun, which Jason snatched from him, and then used to shoot out both knee caps before shooting the guy in the head. Jason threw the gun to the ground and made his way out of the bar. No one else tried to stop him.

----

When he got back to his apartment that night Roy and Lian were nowhere to be seen, but Dick was sitting at his kitchen table in a pair of jeans and a worn blue sweatshirt. Jason sighed as soon as he saw him, and removed his helmet and domino mask. He knew Dick would just get mad if he left it on. He didn’t like talking to the helmet; it was the same with Bruce’s cowl. He really had all of them wrapped around his little finger. Even Slade Wilson, apparently.

“Slade told me what happened at the bar.”

Jason shrugged.

“I didn’t take him for a snitch,” he sniffed. Dick sighed.

“Jason, I know you don’t approve but you can’t just shoot him.”

“Why not?” Jason asked petulantly. Dick’s lips thinned.

“Because it’s wrong, and before you go and make a fuss about Slade’s wrongness, you can’t judge someone based on past actions.”

“Yes, you can Dick, that’s the whole fucking point of them.”

“I don’t judge you,” Dick said, unfairly in Jason’s opinion.

“Look, Dick, there’s a big leap between running a mob to keep all the really bad mobs out of Gotham, and killing people for money, even I know that. I know I’m no peach, but Slade’s a bad guy, Dick, and people like that don’t just reform. You can’t help him,” Jason protested. Dick shook his head.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I think I do. You can’t reform me and I’m not half as nasty as Deathstroke.”Dick sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“You’re right, you’re not as bad as he is. This will probably end up being a huge mistake that ends in a world of hurt, but I think I have the right to make that mistake. I’m my own person Jason, and neither you nor Bruce can make my decisions for me.” His eyes blazed like blue fire, and Jason found himself cowed by their intensity. Dick was right, of course, he always was.

“I know, I just don’t want to see you hurt,” Jason muttered, looking away. Dick smiled softly at him. He reached across the table to grab Jason’s hands and uncrossed his arms for him.

“I know,” he said, holding Jason’s hands in his, “and I love you for that,” Jason’s heart skipped a beat, “but I need to see this through. As weird as it sounds, I care about Slade, and he cares about me. I’ve been in a lot of relationships where that hasn’t been the case. I deserve to see where this goes now that I’ve started it.”

Jason didn’t want to agree with him, but he couldn’t disagree, not when Dick was being so reasonable.

“Dickie, this is a terrible idea,” he pleaded. Dick smiled a sad little smile.

“I know,” he replied, unrepentant.

Jason sighed and pulled away. He leaned back in his chair and fingered the blood on his pants.

“I’ve got to change, want to stay for dinner?” He asked. Dick smiled brightly at him.

“Sounds awesome, what’re we having?” He asked. Jason stood up and grabbed the cordless phone from it’s charging station.

“Pizza, you call it in. Get me pepperoni.” He threw the cordless phone at Dick and walked off to his bedroom, ignoring the sound of Dick dialing.

Jason stripped off his uniform and threw it in the blood hamper. He and Roy each had two dirty clothes hampers. One for regular laundry, and one for bloody laundry. He made his way to the shower and turned the water on as hot as he could stand. He needed to burn the night off of himself. Dick knew being with Slade was wrong, knew that it was going to end in pain, but he didn’t care, no instead he wanted to see things through. Jason stepped under the spray and watched the pink tinted water swirl down the drain.

Only Dick Grayson could do something stupid on purpose and keep doing it just to see how it ended. Slade was unbelievably bad news, but it looked like Jason wasn’t going to get anywhere with that argument. Not when Dick knew and acknowledged that it was true.

Jason grabbed the soap and began to scrub himself clean. His traitorous cock began to stiffen at the attention, and the persistence of Dick in his thoughts didn’t help. Jason, just this once, just to get back at Dick for being so purposefully stupid, let his mind wander. He imagined Dick in his Nightwing suit, skin tight polymer sticking to his skin, showing off the best ass on earth. Jason imagined getting his hands on that ass, all clad in black bodycon, squeezing handfuls, and then pulling Dick sharply back to him. He would grind his cock into that ass, listen as Dick moaned in pleasure. He would pull down the suit’s zipper until it ended just above his ass, and pull the top of the suit completely off of Dick, exposing his cock to the cool air. He’d get his hands around Dick’s cock and stroke until Dick cried out, throwing his head back as he came. Then Jason would shove Dick down to his knees, and Dick would smirk up at him as he pulled Jason’s cock out of his pants. Jason would grab fistfulls of pitch black hair and fuck Dick’s face on his cock until he finally came, spilling himself down Dick’s throat. Of course he’d pull out at the last second and cover Dick’s face in his come. Jason imagined the look on Dick’s face, sated and satisfied, with fucked red lips and come clinging to his eyelashes, and came.

Jason slumped back in the shower, and let the water wash his shame down the drain. He looked up at the ceiling as his breathing returned to normal. He was still angry, and now a little bit ashamed. Dick made him crazy, there was no doubt about that. Maybe it would be better if he avoided him while Dick was with Slade.

The thought only lasted a second. He knew he could never leave Dick alone, not ever, and certainly not now that he was letting Slade in close. Jason was resigned to his fate to forever be one step behind Dick’s many, many conquests. He didn’t even know if he wanted to be part of that whole situation; that toxic will they won’t they relationship that Dick seemed so fond of. He just wanted Dick. He wanted to live in his space, to make him dinner and patch him up after patrol. He wanted to be happy, but he was Jason Todd, and he knew better than to believe in happy.

----

Jason walked back out into the living room dressed in sweatpants and a worn red t-shirt. Dick smiled at him when he walked in. Dick was sitting in front of the TV, which was turned to a sitcom that had ended a few years prior. He liked watching comedy shows, he said they were something he didn’t have to worry about.

Jason sat down next to him and laid back. He spread one out along the back of the couch, Dick just beyond his reach.

“Which one’s this one?” He asked.

“Karen’s supposed to write an essay on friendship for her psychology class, but all her friends are idiots,” Dick replied. Jason nodded, he remembered this show well. It had been one of his mother’s favorites. She used to put it on a lot while she got high.

“Oh, yeah, I remember this one. Sort of a shitty episode,” he said. Dick snorted.

“Better than a cop drama, which is the only other thing on right now.”

“Fair enough. I don’t think there’s anything I hate more than a cop drama.”

“A vigilante drama?”

“Okay, you got me.”

Dick laughed and leaned back. If Jason reached just a little bit further he could probably brush Dick’s hair.

Before he could gather the courage to try, the doorbell rang, and Dick stood up to pay the pizza guy. He brought the pizza back to the couch complete with paper plates and napkins.

“Want something to drink?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’ll have to grab it though. I hide the booze so Roy doesn’t see it,” Jason said. He stood up and went back to his room to grab a bottle of whiskey. It was the only alcohol in the apartment, and it was mostly for emergencies. He’d used a bit of it to clean out a bullet wound, but there was plenty left for two people. It was a big bottle.

He brought the bottle back and noticed that Dick had grabbed two glasses from the kitchen. He filled them both a third of the way and grabbed a slice of pepperoni. Dick dug into the other box and pulled out an absolute monstrosity of a slice covered in a dozen different toppings. Jason snorted.

“I don’t know how you keep that perfect ass of yours with a diet like that,” he muttered. Dick raised a brow at him.

“It’s because my ass is magic,” he said.

“I’m sure Slade would agree,” Jason shot back. Dick made an afronted noise and smacked his arm. Jason just laughed.

“All right, drink up, magic ass.” Jason handed Dick the drink, which he shot back in one swallow. Jason willed himself not to get hard.

“Oh, I see, it’s going to be like that, is it?” Jason asked. Dick smirked at him, and Jason grinned back. He shot back his own drink and refilled the glasses.

The pizza boxes emptied slowly, while the bottle of whiskey emptied much more quickly. Jason poured himself the last of the whiskey and shot it back while Dick watched with rapt attention. When Jason finished it off Dick cheered and laughed. He was shit at holding his liquor, and was already very tipsy. Jason was made of sterner stuff, and so he was a little more coherent, but not by much.

“You know when you swallow your adam’s apple goes up and down and up,” Dick laughed, demonstrating with his finger, his eyes on Jason’s neck.

“Yeah, that’s sorta how it works, Dickie,” Jason slurred. Dick giggled, and put his finger on Jason’s neck.

“Do it again,” he said. Jason swallowed obediently and Dick laughed, his finger following the movement up and down Jason’s neck. Jason felt his cheeks flush and his cock start to stiffen.“Get off,” he grumbled, shoving Dick’s hand away. Dick rolled his eyes as he listed a little to the side.

“Y’know you grew up really well,” Dick said suddenly. He put his hands on his hips and looked Jason up and down.

“You’re so tall,” he muttered petulantly. “It’s not fair, I don’t know why I never got tall, but I never did! Everyone’s taller than me. Except Tim, of course.”

Jason choked on a laugh. “Tim’s a fuckin’ hobbit, Dick, no one’s shorter than him. Oh wait, fuck, am I taller than Slade?” He asked. Dick considered him for a long moment.

“No,” he said finally.

“Fucker.”

Dick shrugged. “Sorry, buddy, but he’s like a million feet tall, don’t tell anyone, but I have to go on my tippy toes to kiss him, isn’t tha’ weird?” He asked. Jason nodded vigorously.

“Really weird, you should date someone shorter, like me,” he said, then froze. He hadn’t meant to say that outloud. Dick giggled. He crawled toward Jason and stopped to kneel in front of him.

“I should date you, huh? I dunno Jay, aren’t we sorta like brothers?” He asked. Jason, for some ungodly reason, shook his head.

“No, Bruce didn’t adopt you until after I died, plus I was dead, I barely lived with Bruce for like two, no three, no two, no- fucking whatever, it wasn’t long. Plus we’re not actually related,” he explained. Dick thought carefully about that, and nodded decidedly.

“Good point,” he said. Then he grabbed Jason’s shoulders and pulled him close.

“I think I’m gonna kiss you,” he said softly, looking down at Jason’s mouth. Jason licked his lips and Dick’s eyes followed the movement.

“Okay,” Jason said. Dick smiled and moved forward. He pressed his lips to Jason’s, and kissed him hard and deep. Jason grabbed his hips and pulled him forward sharply, so he was sitting in Jason’s lap. Jason grabbed two handfuls of Dick’s ass, and kissed back, shoving his tongue in Dick’s mouth. Dick moaned and sucked on Jason’s tongue. He smiled into the kiss and pressed forward, pressing his hard cock into Jason’s stomach. Jason pulled him down hard, and ground up into his ass. Dick moaned and threw his head back at the sensation. Jason immediately attacked his neck, kissing and sucking at it. Suddenly Dick stopped moving. Jason, undeterred, kept sucking at his neck. Dick shoved him back, and leapt off the couch. He stood with wide eyes, and his hand against his mouth. Jason looked up at him confusedly, before realization dawned on him.

“I have to go,” Dick said quietly. Jason shook his head, which was sobering quickly and ruthlessly.

“Not in this state. Take my room, I’ll sleep on the couch,” he said. Dick nodded and walked off, not sparing Jason another glance.

Jason laid back against the couch, and even in his inebriated state he could understand the horror of what had happened there. He’d kissed Dick, no-  Dick  had kissed  him .

Only Dick was with Slade, and Slade would not be happy when he found out about this. Jason felt terror strike through his heart. What if Slade got really mad? What if he hurt Dick? What if he killed him?

Jason forced himself to swallow down those thoughts. Slade wouldn’t kill Dick, by his own admission he cared about him. If he wouldn’t kill Dick before they’d started dating, he sure as hell wasn’t going to now. Jason forced his eyes closed. He needed to sleep off the alcohol.

Jesus, no wonder Roy got off the sauce. It was nothing but trouble and regret.

----

When Jason got up the next morning Dick was gone.

He wasn’t surprised.

Jason spent the day in his apartment. He watched shitty TV and ate Dick’s leftover pizza, which, for all it’s weird toppings, was surprisingly tasty.

Roy got home later in the day, carrying groceries in one hand and Lian in the other.

“So, did you see Dick last night?” He asked as he began taking out the cold things for Lian to put in the fridge.

“What?” Jason asked, jerking upright and nearly dropping his pizza. Roy looked over at him and his eyebrows shot into his hairline.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Swear jar, daddy.”“Sorry, pumpkin.” Roy fished a dollar out of his wallet and put it in the jar marked ‘Lian’s Candy Fund.’

“Dick and I made out on the couch,” Jason muttered. Roy dropped the pickle jar, which shattered against the countertop and spilled pickle juice everywhere.

“Shit, fucking dammit,” he snapped.

“Daddy.”

“Yeah, I know kiddo.” He grabbed a stack of paper towels and swept the whole mess into the garbage. Then he fished four dollars out of his pocket and threw them in the jar. Fuck was a  very  bad word, so it meant two dollars in the jar.

Roy sprayed the counter and wiped away the sticky pickle juice residue, then turned to Lian.

“Honey, Daddy and Jason need to have an adult conversation, why don’t you go to your room and play with your dollies, okay?”

Lian looked at him suspiciously. She probably thought he didn’t want her there so he didn’t have to donate the entire remaining contents of his wallet to the swear jar.

She wasn’t wrong.

“ Fine, ” she sighed dramatically. She made her way out of the kitchen, and it wasn’t until he heard her bedroom door close that Roy reacted.

“ What the shit, Jason!?”  he hissed. “The fuck do you mean you and Dick made out on the couch? The same fucking Dick that’s dating fucking  Deathstroke!?  The man whose name literally means fucking killing blow!? God dammit Jason, he’s going to come here to fucking kill you! Dammit! He’s going to come  here  to fucking kill you! He knows where you live! He’s going to kill me and Lian! Dammit Jason if Deathstroke comes here to kill me and Lian because you couldn’t keep it in your fucking pants around Dick fucking Grayson, I’m going to kill you!”

Jason blinked up at Roy.

“You owe twenty dollars to the swear jar,” he said. Roy’s face turned the same shade of red as his hair. Jason watched it with fascination.

“Jason!”

“What?”“You fucking macked on Deathstroke’s fucking boyfriend!”

“Twenty-four dollars.”

Roy let out a frustrated noise and snatched his wallet off the counter. He fished twenty-four dollars out of his wallet and shoved them into the jar. Then he turned back to Jason. His face was now redder than his hair.

“Jason!”

“Look, Roy, I know, okay? I fucked up. We were drunk, and he was talking about how Slade’s really tall and he has to stand on his tippy toes to kiss him, and I said you should date someone shorter like me, and he was like okay, and he fucking kissed me,” Jason’s voice got very high pitched toward the end, and Roy couldn’t stifle his laughter.

“Shut up fucker! This is serious! Deathstroke’s going to fucking kill me!”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Now he’s worried. By the way that’s six dollars, shithead,” he realized what he’d said and rolled his eyes. “Dammit.”

Jason pulled out six dollars and Roy grabbed another two.

“Look, my advice is to stay out of their way. Dick’s going to tell Slade, you know he is, and when he does you probably don’t want to be within a mile of either of them, so I suggest staying home tonight.”

Jason shook his head.

“What if he hurts Dick?”

It was on the tip of Roy’s tongue to say he’d brought it upon himself, but he didn’t. That would be needlessly cruel and Jason didn’t need it right now.

“Watch from a distance. Keep an eye on them, but keep out of their way. Got it? You don’t want to be in the middle of that argument.”

Jason nodded.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I usually am, now put that pizza down, it’s my turn to make dinner tonight and you’re not getting out of it by claiming to be full.”

----

That night Jason kept to the shadows as he made his way to Dick’s side of town. He hadn’t heard any chatter of Nightwing out on the streets, and he was a little worried that Slade had hurt Dick so badly he couldn’t go out.

Jason made his way slowly to Dick’s building and jumped down softly onto the fire escape. He crept down the side of the building until he reached Dick’s floor. He rolled his eyes again at how shitty Dick’s apartment was. He insisted on living off of a cop’s salary, even though his millions of dollars inheritence was tucked nice and tight in his bank account. Jason looked through the window to the living room, but he didn’t see anyone. He jimmied open the window and slipped inside. Dick might be laid up in bed, or cleaning a wound in the bathroom. Better safe than sorry.

Jason crept through the apartment in the direction of the bedroom before he heard something that made his heart stop.

Somebody, Dick, cried out, and something slammed into the wall.

Jason quickened his step and made his way to the bedroom, where he peeked through the crack in the door.

What he saw made his stomach sink.

Dick was laying on the bed, ass up in the air, as Slade slammed into him from behind so hard the bed smacked into the wall. Dick moaned and Slade wrapped a hand around his throat, pulling him up until his back was flushed with Slade’s massive chest. Slade’s hand tightened on Dick’s throat and Jason’s hands tightened to fists, despite Dick’s moan.

“That’s it Dick, you’re going to act like a slut then I’m going to treat you like one.” He gave a particularly vicious thrust and Dick cried out as he came, untouched. Jason’s cheeks flushed as Dick leaned back into Slade, panting. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his body was flushed red from exertion. Slade pulled out carelessly and Dick moaned, dropping forward onto the bed. Slade turned him around, and Dick sat up. Slade stroked his cock hard and fast and let out a long moan as his orgasm hit him, his come covering Dick’s face. Dick’s eyes, lust blown and vividly blue, shot open as he looked up at Slade. Slade smiled down at him, and took Dick’s face in his hands. He kissed him hard and claiming.

“You’re mine, pretty bird, and don’t you forget it,” he hissed. Dick could only nod.

Jason didn’t need to see any more. Heart in his stomach, he turned on his heel and slipped out as quietly as he’d arrived.


The images restarted. Gobber lifted the gate to the training arena. Hiccup winced. The Gronkle at Gyda's feet winced as well. Her ears lowered and she laid her head upon her paws.

[I am so sorry, youngling,] she said.

[Why are you apologizing?] Toothless asked. [What will this show?]

“Just watch, Toothless,” Gyda said. “You will see. Just remember there is more than meets the eye.”

Toothless stared at her but the images began before he could ask anything.

/Welcome to dragon training./

The teens walked in, looking around.

/No turning back.

I hope I get some serious burns.

I'm hoping for some mauling, like on my shoulder or lower back.

Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it./

[Tuff, why would you want to get burnt?] Shadowfire asked. [Ruff, why would any mauling be a good idea? And Astrid, your definition of fun is vastly different than mine.]

[Mine as well,] the female Gronkle said.

[Scars means wounds,] the Terror said. [Wounds means pain. Some wounds are hard to recover from. Some don't recover at all.]

“Who?” Hiccup asked as the Terror shuddered and curled in on itself.

[My parents. They led the flock and died defending our tree from another flock.]

Hiccup gathered the Terror closer. Toothless stared at both for several heartbeats then leaned over and nuzzled both of them.

[You have a new flock now,] Toothless said.

The Terror curled his neck, staring at Toothless. [You're sure?]

[I'm sure.]

[Thank you, Protector.]

“Why do you call him Protector?” Hiccup asked.

“Ah, don't answer,” Gyda said. “That will be explained later. There are somethings the Vikings do not know.”

[They do not know about her?] the other Nightmare asked, its voice female.

“Her?”

“Hiccup, please, do not ask for things ahead of the tale. All will be revealed and understood at the end. I promise.”

Hiccup stared at Gyda but nodded his head. He trusted her as he had trusted no one except Toothless. She accepted him and defended him. She raised a dragon from an egg. Not something most would do. The images restarted with himself quipping a sarcastic response to Astrid's comment about scars.

/Yeah, no kidding, right? Pain. Love it./

The teens turned and several groaned.

/Oh, great who let him in?/

Gobber stepped forward before anyone could answer Tuffnut.

/Let's get started! The recruit who does the best will win the honor of killing his first dragon in front of the entire village./

“His?” Astrid asked, spinning to stare at Gobber. “There were two girls there, Gobber.”

“Eh..” Gobber rubbed the back of his neck to the laughter of Vikings and dragons alike.

Snotlout's voice from the images pulled everyone's attention back to the images.

/Hiccup already killed a Night Fury, so does that disqualify him or…./

Some of the teens laughed before walking further into the arena.

/Can I transfer to the class with the cool Vikings?/

Gobber walked over and placed an arm around Hiccup's shoulders, guiding him into the arena.

/Don't worry. You're small and weak. That'll make you less of a target. They'll see you as sick or insane and go after the more Viking-like teens instead./

Gyda groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. Hiccup turned from the images to stare at her in concern.

“Gobber,” Gyda began, “you lot believe dragons are mindless beast that just attack and kill. You tell this to everyone who will stand still long enough to listen. You write it in a book over and over. Correct?”

“Yes,” Gobber said slowly.

“So, why then did you tell Hiccup that? Mindless beasts will not look at a group of kids and go – hm, that one is healthy looking so I should attack it, but that one over there is small and might be the easier target...oh, nope should leave it alone. Beasts will always...always go for the easier target. Predator versus prey at its finest.”

“I wanna him ta feel better,” Gobber replied.

“By telling him the other teens were 'more Viking-like'? What did he say to you at his house before you convinced his father to put him in the training?”

“Oh.”

“Right, oh.” Gyda looked at the other Vikings. “You lot speak and don't think, ever. You just run your mouths and don't care what or who hears you. Here we have a saying: Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. That is a lie. Words can kill just as effectively as sword.”

She turned back and waved her head. The images began once more. Gobber pushed Hiccup into Fishlegs before moving to a cage door.

/Behind these doors are just a few of the many species you will learn to fight. The Deadly Nadder.

Speed eight. Armor sixteen./

[Uh, youngling, what did that larger youngling mean?] the female Nadder asked, head tilted.

“I'm not entirely sure,” Hiccup replied.

“Stats,” Fishlegs said. “To determine strength and weaknesses so we can know what dragon is good or bad at what.”

[Who determined these numbers?] the female Gronkle asked.

“Uhm, I did,” Fishlegs whispered. “After reading the dragon manual.”

“Smart,” Gyda said. “Knowing what your enemy is good or bad at is always a good idea.”

The images continued with Gobber announcing different dragon species and Fishlegs continuing to add his stats.

/The Hideous Zippleback.

Plus eleven stealth. Times two.

The Monstrous Nightmare.

Fire power fifteen.

The Terrible Terror.

Attack eight. Venom twelve.

Can you stop that?! And… the Gronkle.

Jaw strength eight./

Hiccup chuckled as the images showed Fishlegs lean over and whispered the last stat. The images showed Gobber grip one of the levers next to a reinforced door which shook. That caused Snotlout to jerk and step forward.

/Whoa, wait. Aren't you gonna teach us first?

I believe in learning on the job./

Gobber pushed. The lever lowered. The log lifted. The Gronkle barreled out. The teens scattered. Gobber's voice was calm even as chaos reigned in the arena.

/Today is about survival. If you get blasted, you're dead. Quick, what's the first thing you need?

A doctor?/

[That's for after, Alpha,] Shadowfire said, snickering.

/Plus five speed./

Hiccup, Gyda, and all the dragons turned to stare at Fishlegs. Said teen just laughed nervously. The images began again.

/A shield?

Shields go./

“Of course, my daughter gets the right answer,” Eydis said as the images showed the teens scramble for various shields laying around the arena.

/You're most import piece of equipment is your shield. If you must make a choice between a sword and a shield, take the shield./

Gobber aided Hiccup to secure his shield. Tuff and Ruff fought over a single shield.

/Get your hands off my shield.

There are like a million shields.

Take that one, it has flowers on it. Girls like flowers./

Everyone watching winced as Ruff cracked the shield over Tuff's head. She then held it out.

/Oops, now this one has blood on it./

[Youngling,] the female Nadder began, [are those two, hm, how do humans put it..]

[Not right in the head?] Toothless asked.

[Completely insane?] Shadowfire supplied.

“Devotes to Loki?” Gyda offered.

“All of the above?” Hiccup quipped.

“They know us,” Ruff said.

“Spies,” Tuff said. “Or the witch can read minds and H's learned by sitting beside her.”

“Not a witch,” Gyda said. “And I can't read minds. I just know quite a bit about you two.”

The images continued. The Gronkle fired, hitting the shield. Ruff and Tuff spun before hitting the ground. Gobber called them out. The Gronkle flew on, leaving the twins on the floor. Hiccup frowned.

“You only hit the shield and not them,” he said, looking down at the Gronkle.

[The point of the lesson was to teach survival,] Gronkle said. [Hurting the younglings would be counterproductive. Myself, the Spike-thrower, and the Double-mind have been in that stone den for several months, teaching many of your previous flock to fight against dragons. If we harmed any humans we were not fed.]

Hiccup's eyes narrowed. He leaned around the Terror and scratched the base of the Gronkle's closest ear. The Gronkle gave a contented growl and wagged her tail. Gyda giggled and moved her legs before the Gronkle's tail hit her. Hiccup stopped scratching and the Gronkle tilted her head.

[Sorry,] she said.

“Not a worry,” Gyda replied, pointing at Shadowfire. “Remember, I raised him.”

[Mom,] Shadowfire whined.

Gyda chuckled. “What?” she asked, looking up at him. “I had a lot of whelps and bruises until you learned to control your tail. Lot of broken toes too until you stopped stepping on them.”

[Mom!]

The dragons and Hiccup laughed. Hiccup saw the Vikings staring across the barrier. Some, the mothers mostly, stared with fond looks of remembrance. Some held disbelief on their face. Some smiled. Others stared with disgust or anger.

“We should continue,” Gyda said, drawing Hiccup's attention. She was smirking. “Before my son dies of embarrassment.”

[Mother!]

Gyda giggled and scratched Shadowfire under the chin. He grunted but Hiccup could tell he was not all that annoyed. Hiccup turned away. They held a better relationship than he and his father and it hurt. He felt Gyda's hand on his shoulder and Toothless nuzzle him. Then the Terror, the Nadder, and the Gronkle nuzzled him as well. Shadowfire lifted his head, curled his neck around and nuzzled him as well.

/Those shields are good for another thing. Noise. Make lots of it to throw off a dragon's aim./

The images showed the remaining recruits, including Hiccup, gathered close and began banging their weapons against their shields. Hiccup frowned when the images shifted, showing a warbled image. His eyes widened when he realized it was from the Gronkle's point of view after the images showed the Gronkle shake her head. He looked down.

“Did that hurt?”

[Yes,] the Gronkle replied. [A dragon's hearing is sharp. My kind have worse than others but ours is still better than a human's. That banging always makes my head feel like boulders are falling on it.]

“I'm sorry. I will find a way to get you and the others out of there.”

[We are safe there, youngling,] the Gronkle said. [Only the Flame-skin is in danger.]

“Flame-skin?”

[Your kind call them Nightmares,] the Gronkle said. [They light their skin on fire when they fight.]

“Do all dragons have different names for their species?”

“Eh, Hiccup, we really don't have time for this, my friend,” Gyda said softly. “The message must be delivered and you all returned.”

“Oh, sorry,” Hiccup said.

“It's okay, Hiccup. Let's just keep watching.”

Gyda waved her hand and the images began again.

/All dragons have a limited number of shots. How many does a Gronkle have?

Five!

No, six.

Correct, six. That's one for each of you!

I really don't think my parents would-/

Fishleg's shield got blasted, cutting him off. Snotlout, watching, crowed.

“That's what know-it-all's get, Fishface!”

Gyda and Shadowfire snorted. Hiccup looked over only to have Gyda point back to the walls. He turned and sighed as the images showed Gobber yelling at himself.

/Hiccup, get in there!/

Hiccup watched himself step away from the wooden half wall. The images switched, focusing on Astrid. Hiccup could not help but smile. As with everything she did, Astrid was focused. He watched Snotlout walk up.

/So anyway, I'm moving into my parents' basement. You should come by sometimes to work out. You look like you work out-/

Astrid rolled away. The Gronkle blasted Snotlout's shield. Hiccup snickered and scratched the Gronkle's ear.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

The Gronkle chuckled. Out of the corner of his eye, Hiccup saw Shadowfire lift his head and turn towards the barrier.

[Shouldn't have sought to court Alpha's mate,] he said.

“Huh?” Hiccup asked.

“Don't worry about it, Hiccup,” Gyda said. “Just keep watching.”

He stared at her, eyes narrowed, but she merely waved her hand and the images began again.

/Snotlout, you're done!/

Astrid rolled to a stop beside Hiccup. Watching, Hiccup winced at his voice breaking when he posed a question to her.

/So, I guess it's just you and me, huh?

Nope, just you./

Astrid rolled away. The Gronkle blasted Hiccup's shield. Hiccup took off after it.

/One shot left!/

“Gobber,” Stoick began, “why didn't you end the lesson? Astrid was the last standing.”

“Eh, uhm, I don't rightly know.”

“Gobber.” Stoick's voice held a tone of warning. “You can't play favorites in dragon training.”

[At least he gives the youngling a chance,] the male Nightmare said, walking over.

He stopped behind Toothless, who shifted so he could see the Nightmare.

[And you are?] Toothless asked him.

[The one they are training to kill.] The Nightmare stared down at Hiccup. [I knew what I was there for. The Double-mind told me my first night in that stone den. I hated all of you, but now I understand.] The Nightmare turned to Gyda. [I know you do not want the tale told before its time, but I must know.] He tossed his head towards the barrier and the Vikings on the other side. [Do they learn the truth?]

“Of?”

[The war and the youngling both.]

Gyda hummed and tipped her head once.

“Witch!” Stoick bellowed. “If we learn these truths then why are we here?!”

[I believe I know,] the Nightmare said before Gyda could answer. [You lot might learn the truths, but you still may not gain understanding. These visions are to teach that understanding.]

“Aye,” Gyda said. “The present is but a product of past events that shape it. While the truths are learned sadly some are not kept. And that is all I will say on the subject.”

[Fair enough,] the Nightmare replied. [Protector, may I sit behind your brother?]

[Hiccup?]

“I don't mind.” Hiccup shifted so he could look over his shoulder at the Nightmare. “Though, why do you all ask Toothless if he's just going to ask me?”

[He is the elder in your flock, youngling,] the male Nadder said.

Hiccup shifted again. To his surprise, Shadowfire immediately stepped back so Hiccup could see the Nadder.

[If an outsider to a flock needs to approach a flock member they must approach an elder first. To otherwise would be the height of dishonor.]

“Okay, that I get.” Hiccup turned around, facing Toothless. “And you ask me, why?”

[You have the right to make your own decisions, brother. Had you've said no at any point, I would have refused all of their requests.]

“Really?”

[Really.]

Hiccup blinked. He looked over at Gyda then past her to his tribe. None of them had ever asked his opinion or he desire on anything. Not even Gobber. He heard a shuffle of more feet and turned to find the other dragons had moved closer to Toothless. Toothless stared at them. The other Nightmare tipped her head down.

[We also wish to sit near your brother, if we can.]

[All of you?]

The other dragons nodded. Toothless turned to Hiccup.

[Your call, brother,] he said.

“You all want to sit with me?” Hiccup whispered.

[Yes,] the other Gronkle, a green one that sounded male, said.

Hiccup looked around, stunned. No one had ever wanted to sit with him. Most of the time he sat by himself, especially when in the Great Hall. The only times he ever sat with anyone were times other tribes visited and his father made him to sit with him at feasts held in the visiting tribe's honor. Even then the others were required to be there. None wished to.

[Brother?] Toothless asked.

Hiccup blinked, realizing he had yet to answer. “Uh, yeah, I don't mind,” he whispered.

[Brother?]

“No..no one ever wanted to..”

Toothless nuzzled him as did the Terror.

“Thank you,” Hiccup whispered.

The other dragons moved to find seats around Hiccup. The male Gronkle ended up in front of the female Nadder. The other Nightmare sat next to male one. The two Zipplebacks found their places behind Toothless and beside the female Nightmare. Shadowfire returned to his spot behind Gyda's right shoulder. Hiccup turned when the female Gronkle suddenly gasped.

[My apologies,] she said looking at Gyda. [I asked your son and not you. I should not have assumed he was the elder of your flock.]

“It's okay. Most times the dragon is the oldest. How could you have known our flock would be different?” Gyda looked over her shoulder at the male Nadder, who kept to his place between Shadowfire's body and the barrier. “You can move closer if you want. I don't mind.”

[Thank you,] the male said moving to the space beside the bench.

“Now that everyone's settled once more,” Gyda said, “let's continue.”