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Slade sits in the car for a moment, trying to pull himself together. Years with Dick, years that Dick just threw away like they meant nothing.
So many questions swirl in his mind.
How long? Was Dick cheating on him from the beginning? Through the pregnancy? Did Dick even know Slade wasn’t the father?
They picked out names together, for god’s sake. They painted the nursery, they laid awake at night imagining their lives together as parents. Slade was looking forward to another chance, a chance to learn from all the mistakes he’s made and not make them again.
Things seem clearer in hindsight, but don’t they always? Dick was more anxious than Slade expected, but first-time mothers often are. Dick occasionally looked like he wanted to say something, but always shook his head in refusal when Slade asked if he wanted to talk.
Sometimes he just seemed sad when they should have been joyful together.
But pregnancy is hard, and scary, and Slade made allowances.
Like an idiot.
He wraps that anger around himself like armor and forces himself to walk into the hospital. If Dick has even a shred of the decent person Slade thought he was in him, he’ll sign the papers and Slade will walk away a free man. No responsibility to his ‘mate’, no responsibility to the bastard child, and Slade can just never come back to Bludhaven.
Dick was the only reason worth staying in this city.
He and Dick walked through the hospital together, before. Getting comfortable with the layout, making sure they liked it, making sure it was perfect.
And all the while, Dick let him believe a lie.
Slade refuses to hesitate outside of Dick’s door and walks in like he belongs. Like he would have, if Dick hadn’t—
“Slade,” Dick says, eyes wide, baby nursing off him. Slade refuses to even look at the child, so clearly not his.
“I brought papers for you to sign,” he says crisply. “Dissolving our mating and absolving me of responsibility for your child.”
The words hang in the air, but Slade refuses to feel badly for Dick. He’s pale, looks exhausted as all new mothers do, only he’s not Slade’s to take care of anymore.
Slade is never going to find another partner to take care of like he wanted to take care of Dick. Two strikes is plenty.
“When she’s done nursing,” Dick says in a low voice, glancing away from Slade, “I’ll sign the papers.”
Slade sits on the couch meant for visiting family, for fathers sleeping over with their mates and children, and refuses to feel anything. But the questions are like a living thing in his breast, pressure rising.
And eventually, even he cracks under the pressure.
“Where’s her father?” he asks. “You didn’t call him right away?” He can hear the bitterness in his voice, and he doesn’t bother to try to mitigate it.
Dick flinches and swallows, gently running a finger over the baby’s head.
“No,” he says quietly. “I didn’t call him.”
Slade scoffs. “Why not?”
A silence, and then Dick shrugs.
Shrugs, like none of this matters to him, like it isn’t Slade’s life in ashes, like Dick didn’t lure Slade in and make him believe—
“How could you do this to us?” Slade asks, voice quiet but precise. “Were you lying the whole time about—everything?”
Dick doesn’t look at him.
“Did you know all along she wasn’t mine?” Slade spits out.
“No,” Dick says, voice hoarse, still not looking at him. “I thought—I hoped—I wanted her to be yours.”
“But you knew she might not be mine,” Slade says coldly, feeling distant and remote. He can’t let himself feel the betrayal and rage, not with his soon-to-be former mate nursing a newborn. Even he has some decorum.
Dick shrugs again, and Slade suddenly needs Dick to look him in the face, to admit he’s a liar and a cheater and he ruined everything because he was never what Slade thought he was.
“Look at me,” Slade demands. “Look me in the eyes when you talk to me. You owe me that much, at least.”
Dick doesn’t look at him and, decorum or not, Slade can’t keep the hot anger out of his voice when he demands again, “Look at me.”
Slowly, Dick lifts his head and looks at Slade. His eyes are red-rimmed, his face pale from blood loss after labor when Slade’s heart was in his throat as the baby struggled and Dick wouldn’t stop bleeding—
“I’m sorry,” Dick says hoarsely. “I wanted her to be yours. I didn’t want—this.”
Slade feels heat running through him. “You didn’t want this?” he says, voice low but vicious. “Then you shouldn’t have done it.”
Dick looks stricken and Slade can see him swallow.
“I didn’t—” he starts, and then stops. “I tried—” he says, and stops again. “I—” He stops a third time but Slade is done.
“You have a free hand,” he snaps. “Just sign the damn papers and you never have to see me again.”
“I’m sorry,” Dick says again, eyes getting bright. “Slade, I didn’t want this, I’m sorry.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper when he says, “Please don’t leave me.”
Slade is stunned, but not speechless. “Don’t leave you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Raise another man’s child and always wonder if you’re still sleeping around?”
“It was just once,” Dick says desperately. “Just once, and I didn’t—it wasn’t—” He stops, biting his lip, and then looks down at the baby. “It was just once,” he says softly, “And I hoped the whole pregnancy she was yours.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have fucked him after you stopped your suppressents,” Slade says coldly, and tears spill out down Dick’s cheeks.
“I didn’t want to,” he says, struggling to take deep breaths and stay calm.
“Then you should have told him no,” Slade snaps, and Dick curls his body over the still-nursing child.
“I did,” he says quietly. “I did—and then he—and then I was pregnant, and—”
The baby stops nursing, but Dick doesn’t lift her to burp her, doesn’t do anything but curl over her, body shaking.
Slade feels a different sort of cold than he had before.
I did echoes in his head.
Is Dick…is Dick saying he was raped? Why didn’t—why wouldn’t he tell his mate?
“What?” Slade asks blankly.
Slade knows victims react in a variety of ways. Denial is one of them, so spending nine months hoping and dreaming and praying the child would be Slade’s and that Dick would never have to face the fact that he was assaulted doesn’t seem that far-fetched. Slade’s stomach hollows out as he tries to process this new information.
“Dick, are you saying…” He trails off, unable to say it.
And if he can’t even say it, can he really blame Dick for not mentioning it for nine months?
Dick’s shoulders shake, and Slade sets the papers down carefully.
“Dick,” he says softly, but his mate doesn’t look up at him. “Dick, sweetheart, what happened?” Slade’s voice is soft, gentle, and he leans forward, wondering if he dares to touch the trembling mother on the bed, babe still in his arms.
“I didn’t want this,” Dick says thickly. “She was supposed to be yours, and we’d be a family and—”
Slade doesn’t know what to say.
“Give me the papers,” Dick says, holding out a hand for them without looking at Slade. “I’ll sign them.”
The papers are the last thing on Slade’s mind.
“Dick, what happened?” he asks gently, and Dick curls his hand back around his daughter.
“You were—out of town,” Dick says, slowly. “I went out with friends, just to have a good time, and I didn’t—my drink—I know better, I’m trained for this, but—”
But anyone can be brought low with the right drug, Slade well knows.
“And then you came home,” Dick says, voice shaking. “And the next day you smelled I was pregnant, and I thought—I wanted—” His voice breaks, and Slade is out of the chair, on the bed next to them before he realizes he’s moving.
“Dick,” he says, feelings he can’t even name in his voice, and he wraps an arm around his mate. Dick slumps into his chest, careful of the baby, and cries.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs out. “She should have—she was supposed to be yours—”
Slade looks down at the baby for the first time today, really looks at her. It’s clear she’s not his, but Slade’s never thought of himself as the kind of man who puts a lot of stock in biology. He’s picked two atypical mates and never understands the men who posture and look down on adoption.
He does enjoy shooting them, when they ended up being his targets. One less shitty alpha male out there.
Slade reaches his free hand down for the baby, and Dick stiffens.
“Don’t,” he chokes out, sitting up. “Don’t, Slade, please, she’s just a baby, it’s not her fault, she—”
“Dick,” Slade says calmly, “You know I’d never hurt a child.”
Dick shivers in his arms. “But she’s—and you wanted—”
Slade kisses Dick’s head and feels his mate shudder under him.
“She’s beautiful,” he says softly, and Dick slumps back into his arm, crying into his chest.
“Slade, please,” he begs. “Just give me the papers and leave. I know—she’s not yours, and I let him—it’s my fault, and I should have told you, and I know, so just let me sign and you can go.”
As though Slade has any intention of going anywhere but here.
“She’s yours,” Slade says, tightening his arm around Dick. “And you are mine, so that makes her mine.”
Dick stiffens in his arms. “Don’t,” he whispers softly. “Don’t…play games with me. I’m sorry, but Slade, don’t be cruel.”
“It’s not a game,” Slade says, and reaches over the papers. “Dick, you were raped.” Dick flinches under him, and Slade hates to be so blunt with a victim, but it’s necessary here. “It wasn’t your choice, and that changes everything.”
He rips the papers in half, and then in half again, and lets the pieces fall on the floor.
In Dick’s arms, the baby scrunches up her face and starts to fuss.
“She needs to be burped,” Slade observes, when Dick doesn’t move. “I can do that.”
Dick sits up, both arms wrapped protectively around the baby.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, not looking at Slade. “Even if—she’s not yours, so you don’t—”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Slade agrees. “But I want to.”
She’s not his by blood, but she’s his by law, and she’s his because Dick is his, and Slade is going to take care of them both. And he’s going to figure out who hurt his mate, and make sure they never hurt anyone, ever again.
Dick looks up at him, studying his face intently, and Slade smiles gently, affectionately at him. His anger and betrayal at Dick have vanished, as though they never existed. Now, he has a mate who needs his protection and care more than ever, and a daughter whom he needs to make sure never meets her biological father.
And Slade and Dick have been together long enough that Dick doesn’t struggle to read Slade anymore, but Slade watches him struggle to believe.
How it must have felt, to have Slade put their daughter in his arms and leave, right after the birth—
Slade doesn’t blame himself. But now he knows better, and he’s going to do better.
And it starts when Dick lays their daughter in his arms.