Watch Your Back

Summary: Deadshot and Flag have a conversation
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the whole of the movie; some references to violence
Author's Note: Third of the twenty fics. While not actually committed to it yet, I've considered trying to do a different fandom/fandom version for each story. (For instance, Avengers movies and Avengers comics would be two separate). Anyway... I wasn't planning for Suicide Squad, but the plot bunny bit hard, so... here we are.

###

He should be used to them dying by now.

It was easy not to think about the people he killed. He had his standards. He had rules he followed. And for the most part, the people he took out were scum. Those that weren't? Well, in any war, there were casualties. And if you pissed off the wrong people, you shouldn't be surprised to end up paying the ultimate price.

But... damn it... Diablo shouldn't have had to die. Sure, he'd pushed the other man to release the iron control he had over his emotions. He'd needed to know what the guy was capable of. Couldn't trust someone at your back if they might be a loose cannon, after all. And he'd become infinitely familiar with Harley Quinn's own brand of crazy... because all he had to do was expect anything and everything from her. They'd all fit the mould of a bad guy... and every single one of them had been (and still were) expendable.

But Diablo was the only one who, as far as Deadshot had been able to tell, didn't deserve the hand he'd been dealt.

He was alone in his cell, but that suited him fine. Flag had dropped off his daughter's letters... or, rather, Deadshot had assumed it was him. He couldn't imagine Waller giving him even an inch if she didn't have to. Or any of them. He'd assumed the others had got what they wanted... but apart from being let out occasionally for 'good behaviour', all he saw was the inside of his cell.

There was still the threat of being blown up. Most days, Deadshot told himself that was why he hadn't considered trying to escape. That... and he wanted his daughter to be proud of him. He only rarely admitted to himself that doing something worthwhile had felt better than he'd expected; better than he thought it had the right to.

Commotion brought Deadshot's attention to the door of his cell. Peering through the tiny slit, he could see prison guards running backwards and forwards. It would have been amusing... if he wasn't concerned that whoever was brazen enough to attack the prison was someone infinitely worse than the Enchantress.

The explosion came from right behind him and Deadshot whirled round, only relaxing a fraction when he saw a figure with spiked green hair standing where the wall had once been.

"Pudding!" Harley exclaimed. "I told you to make sure he wasn't in the path of the explosion!" The next moment, she laughed and flung her arms around the Joker. "Can we go now?" She looked at Deadshot and beamed. "I kept my promise...!"

"So I see." Deadshot looked at the couple, but didn't move. "You sure you want to take off like this, Harley?"

"She doesn't want to be here," the Joker answered for her. "She needs to be dancing... singing... painting the town red. She's wasted here." He grinned manically at Deadshot. "She wants you... and what my Queen wants, she gets."

Deadshot looked at Harley. "You don't want me to come with you."

Harley pouted and left the Joker's side to stand in front of him. "Why not? We don't owe any of them anything. And Flag killed Diablo..."

"Because I told him to. Diablo made his choice. I made mine. I have to be someone my daughter can trust." Deadshot looked at both of them. "You should leave now. Waller isn't going to take this lying down."

"I don't like to leave loose ends."

"Pudding, be nice." Harley kissed Deadshot's cheek and then skipped back to the Joker's side. "Try not to get yourself killed!" She blew him a kiss.

And then they were both gone.

###

"And you just let them go?"

"What did you expect me to do?" Deadshot kept his gaze on Waller, even though he was aware of Flag standing in one corner of the room. "You didn't leave me with any of my guns. Or knives. The Joker was fully armed and had a whole squad with him. If your army couldn't stop him... what chance did I have?"

Waller scowled in Flag's direction. "I thought you put the chip back into her."

"It was disabled once. They probably did it again." Flag glanced at Deadshot, his gaze moving over the other man, then back to his boss. "He doesn't know anything. And even if he did... he wouldn't tell you."

"But he'd tell you." Waller frowned. "I've already lost three assets and the first mission is barely over. Take him back to the cell." She nodded to the other guards... a few of whom had bruises and black eyes.

"That's not necessary." Flag nodded to Deadshot. "You're not going to cause any problems if the two of us take a walk. Are you?"

Deadshot held up his cuffed hands. "My hands are tied."

 Waller looked at Flag, unblinking. "You'd better know what you're doing."

Flag didn't make a verbal response. He motioned with his head to Deadshot and then walked towards the door of the interrogation room. His body remained stiff and tense until the two of them were outside and the door was closed behind them. Then, his shoulders slumped and he let out a weary sigh.

"How's your girlfriend doing?" Deadshot asked.

"June is... traumatised. I don't know if she's ever going to fully recover." Flag was quiet for a few seconds as they walked back to the cell. "Why didn't you go with them?"

Deadshot didn't respond. Instead, he asked, "Why didn't you activate the chip again?"

Flag was silent for several moments, glancing around. When he spoke, it was in a much quieter voice. "I deactivated all of the chips. Don't tell Waller."

"How crazy are you? You know we're not going to fall in line and play by the rules. You just told me you took away the only reason I'm even part of your boss' experiment."

"Not the only reason. You're here for your daughter."

Deadshot fell silent, unwilling to admit Flag was right. Reaching the cell, he waited for Flag to open it up and then stepped inside. "If you were going to move my cell, you could have given me a better view."

Flag stepped into the cell and closed the door. "You know I'm not in charge of the cells."

"What do you want?" Deadshot knew none of the guards liked him very much, but since the return from the mission, they'd contented themselves with muttered comments and distrustful glances. He was reasonably sure Flag wasn't about to attempt beating on him... though he had seen firsthand the kind of hold Waller had over the man. Even with Flag's woman freed of the Enchantress' hold, Deadshot assumed Flag would carry out any instructions given him by the woman. "I didn't lie about not knowing where they are."

"I know," Flag answered. "But I'm a soldier. I lied to you and I withheld information you and the others; information you needed to complete the mission. Waller didn't believe I should have said anything... But I shouldn't have kept it a secret and I should have told you the truth when you asked. For that, I'm sorry."

"Okay. I accept your apology," Deadshot said. "But that still doesn't explain why you're stood in my cell."

"On a mission, with any group of soldiers, if I'd kept details from them, I'd be disciplined. Possibly court-marshalled."

"Seems to me your girl getting possessed and trying to destroy the whole world was discipline enough." Deadshot eyed the man in front of him. "What exactly do you want me to do? Beat on you for a bit? It's not like I can refuse to work with you. I'd like to get out of here sometime before I can't move under my own power."

Flag looked like he was struggling internally. Finally, he removed his belt, threading it through the loops and doubling it over before holding it out.

Deadshot raised his eyebrows, but didn't take the belt. "You know they're going to hear."

"Hell, they'll think it's the other way round. No way they'll interrupt that."

"You sure you trust me enough to whip you?"

"You had my back on the mission. You didn't leave when handed an open escape route." Flag shrugged. "If I trust anyone to do this, it's going to be you."

Deadshot took the belt. The leather felt heavy in his hands and he took a couple of practise swings, listening to it whistle through the air. He glanced at Flag, taking in the other man's straight posture, hands clasped behind his back. Exactly like a soldier waiting to be disciplined by his superior.

Shaking his head, Deadshot locked eyes with him. "Pants down. Brace your hands against the wall."

Flag's expression didn't change as his hands went to the fastenings on his trousers. As he undid them and pushed them down, he walked towards the wall... and then let them fall the rest of the way as he placed his palms against the surface, bending forward slightly so his back was arched and his bottom stuck out.

Deadshot transferred the belt to a one-handed grip as he moved forward. He pushed Flag's boxers down to join his pants and then placed the same hand against his back to hold him steady.

The crack of the first strike took Deadshot by surprise and he watched as an angry red strike appeared parallel across Flag's buttocks. The other man didn't react, other than a slight intake of breath, and Deadshot brought the belt down a mere millimetre below the first stripe.

Deadshot continued in this vein until he'd given Flag ten strikes total and could see each individual stripe, from the crest of his bottom down to the tops of his thighs. Pausing a moment to admire his handiwork, he then started over from the top, landing each new stripe on the previous one.

By the time the second circuit was finished, Flag was alternating between grunting and gasping. Deadshot pressed a bit harder on his back and then began again.

By the end of the first circuit, Flag was reacting more, shifting from one foot to the other and huffing out sharp breaths. His hands, plastered to the wall as if stuck there, began to clench, the knuckles turning white.

Whatever it was Flag thought he was going to get from the thrashing... Deadshot could tell he wasn't anywhere close. And he could continue using the belt until Flag's backside was raw and bloody... but that was a line he was unprepared to cross.

Deadshot let the belt fall, then transferred his hand from Flag's back to the man's shoulder.

Flag went where Deadshot moved him and a glance at the man's face showed a terrible strain. He stumbled along without fighting as Deadshot guided him to the cot.

Deadshot sat and guided Flag across his knees. The man was stiff and tense, but didn't fight the position. Instead, he braced one hand on the floor and the other on the mattress.

Deadshot wrapped his arm around Flag's waist, though he wasn't sure why he was holding the other man in place when Flag had not only submitted, but had been the one to initiate this. Perhaps it was because the man didn't seem very steady.

Deadshot lifted his hand and brought it down firmly.

The difference was immediate; not only in the sound of flesh hitting flesh, but also in Flag's reaction. He jumped and then gasped as Deadshot settled into a rhythm, working his way over the other man's bottom, down to his thighs.

It didn't take long before Flag was shifting with each hard smack. Deadshot abandoned any set pattern, instead bringing his hand down in random spots... sometimes once; sometimes several times. He kept hold of Flag as the other man began to squirm and shift over his lap.

Deadshot paused, unable to discern the individual strikes from the belt, and rested his hand on Flag's back. "You don't need me to tell you what you did wrong. Waller might not have given you much of a choice... but you know going into that type of situation without that information might have got more people killed. Like Diablo. Maybe he was expendable to you... but he wasn't to us."

Flag's breath hitched and his voice sounded choked as he said, "He wasn't to me..."

Deadshot paused and moved his hand to Flag's back. "That was his decision."

Flag's breath was ragged. "He shouldn't have had to make it. I was... responsible. Waller's prepared to throw you all under the bus if she needs to. I thought I could... go along with it. But then..."

"Yeah. I wish I'd been able to save him too."

Flag slumped over Deadshot's lap and began to sob quietly. Realising he'd reached the point he needed to, Deadshot tugged his boxers and pants back into place, then helped Flag up off his lap. After a brief hesitation, he placed a hand on the other man's shoulder and squeezed gently.

Flag stayed close for a few seconds and then straightened, wiping at his eyes. "I'll make sure you know everything the next time."

Deadshot nodded. "I know. You'd better make sure no one sees your face when you leave."

"Yeah..." Flag drew in a deep breath. "Thanks. I appreciate this, even though you didn't get anything out of it."

Deadshot shrugged. "Way I see it... I did you a favour. You now owe me one."

The End