Author's Note: Welcome to the third installment of my "Limits" series, where we discover the sides of our favorite five that they would rather keep hidden, for various reasons. This time it's Raven who gets the spotlight, although she's not our narrator.
Disclaimer: I'm pretty confident that the Teen Titans don't belong to me, but if they did, we'd have a lot more episodes with Jericho cameos.
I always thought it was funny that the rest of the team came to me for advice.
Raven was the smart one. With her well-picked-through library of the arcane, otherworldly, and just about everything, she should be the one that they went to for advice. She knew more stuff than the rest of us combined, or so I thought.
Then she showed up in my room.
When I say showed up, I really mean showed up. Just teleported in and everything with that freaky dark energy and all that hoohah. She scared the bejeezus outta me, and I told her so.
"Calm down, Cyborg. It's not like I'm going to see you naked or something," she drawled, rolling her eyes. Then, at my downcast expression (an aside: I may be half-robot, but I still suck at hiding what I really feel, which not only makes me a lousy poker player but also makes me really easy to bait), she softened. I never saw Raven do that before without blowing something up in the process; she still had trouble with her powers, even after the whole business with Trigon.
"Sorry. That was insensitive of me," she admitted. I waved it off.
"It's fine," I lied, "What d'you need?"
She didn't answer me right away, choosing to bite her lip lightly and look down at the floor, instead. I waited patiently.
"I need to know what you think about something," she said carefully, not daring to look up.
Flabbergasted, I struggled to keep myself calm. Raven, the queen of independence, needed somebody else's help? And she was admitting this? I had to be in some other universe.
"Okay. Shoot," I said, turning around fully, leaving my analysis of the T-Car's carbureator to wait on the computer screen.
She sat down on the bed that I had insisted on putting in my room (I didn't want to be the only one without a bed, even if I didn't need it) and wrung her hands together, steepling and unsteepling them every few seconds. It was about this time that I started to get seriously concerned; jocularity aside, Raven isn't somebody who gets nervous a lot. She doesn't try to put off any airs other than unconcern, and so watching her let her barriers down, even for a second, was something that both surprised and flattered me. She didn't do it with anybody else, didn't choose to go to somebody else for advice: it was me, and me alone, who she picked.
"Beast Boy's birthday is next Friday. I got him this," she said at last, withdrawing a stuffed frog plushie the size of a housecat from her cloak. It was lime green, with a fuzzy pink tongue sticking halfway out of its mouth and obnoxiously large eyes.
"Do you think he'll like it?" she blurted, her eyebrows raised in the most hopeful expression I've ever seen her muster.
It almost broke my heart to laugh at it.
Almost.
"That bad, huh?" she asked as I guffawed. I could only manage a nod.
"He's so difficult to shop for! I can't get him clothes, that's too awkward. Besides, I don't know what size he wears. I can't get him a video game or something, I don't know what he likes, other than that mindless Mega Monkey Mashed Potatoes or whatever the hell it's called! Cologne's too personal, I have no idea what music he listens to, and the only thing I could think of was this!" Raven screeched, her rant coming to an end at long last. The poor frog in her hands was being strangled to within an inch of his furry life, so I decided to step in and become the hero, for the sake of the poor frog. He was actually kinda cute, with his bugged-out eyes and everything.
"What about a book?" I suggested.
Raven gave me her patented "If you weren't my friend, I'd incinerate you right now to prevent your genes from ever producing another idiot like you" glare.
"Cyborg, do you remember who we're talking about? It's Beast Boy. He doesn't read," she spat acerbically.
"Just because you've never seen him read doesn't mean he doesn't do it," I argued back. I had no idea whether BB read or not, besides his comic books, but I felt the need to defend the little guy. Heaven knew he didn't do it for himself enough.
Raven started to say something, then seemed to take it back, mouth gaping open much like a bass surprised that it had been fooled by such an idiotic trick.
"It's the perfect gift, Raven. Think about it: you're smart; a book is the perfect thing for someone like you to give someone like him. Just make it about something he likes and you're set," I told her.
She sat there for a few moments, mulling the idea over before she rose and headed towards my door, keying in her code to get out. Hesitating at the threshold, I barely heard her words.
"Thanks, Cyborg," she muttered, and stalked out the door.
When BB's birthday came around, I grinned when I saw her hand him a rectangular present in black wrapping paper.
"I thought you needed more than just tofu bacon and your popcorn-pasta nastiness," she said shortly, retreating back to her armchair. BB ripped through the paper, confused, but then his face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw the title of the book: 1001 Vegan Recipes.
He gave her a hug, which she lamely returned for a moment, then told him that was enough mushy stuff already if he wanted to live to see his next birthday.
Maybe I was the best one to come to for advice, after all.
Author's Note: Like what you've read? Review!