Disclaimer I do not own Teen Titans™ or any of its elements, nor do I claim to. I also do not claim ownership of the quotes used in this story, which is non-profit and which belongs entirely to me. Ideas for this fanfic are completely original and coincidental.

Thrice The Raven Hath Chirped
Written By YoshiVixen

Genre Romance/Poetry
Rating T for language
Summary Three times Beast Boy finds scraps from Raven's poetry journal expressing her true feelings, three times Raven gave love a chance, and three conversations change two Titans forever.
Pairings Beast Boy-Raven

Chapter the First
Vegetarian Versus Poem

Tranquil as a forest
But on fire within
—Shang, "I'll Make A Man Out Of You", Disney's Mulan

"Raven, will you please, please, please try my tofu?" The green-haired and –skinned changeling called Beast Boy enticingly held what appeared to be a hamburger in front of her eyes.

Raven was of medium height, but still she was a few inches taller than him. Violet eyes met green as she tried to draw away from the reviled tofu. Her unevenly cut purple hair whooshed past her ears as she levitated a few yards away from him, waving a small, pale hand across the air around her nose as she attempted to banish the unwelcome stink of the vegetarian's treasured food.

"How many times must I repeat myself? Do not bring that shit an inch closer to me!"

"Shit is dark, tofu is white," said Cyborg, thumbs moving rapidly back and forth as he urged his virtual racecar to go fast and faster. "BOOYAH, baby!"

Raven sniffed, floating further away from the persistent Beast Boy. "It does not concern me whether the tofu is white, red-spotted, or dark, it remains what it is—vegetarian shit!" she spat.

"It's not shit!" Beast Boy exclaimed indignantly. Raven ignored him, and instead of a sharp reply she flew up to her lonely room of shadows. A lined sheet of paper fell from the ancient, leather-bound spellbook under her arm.

"Hey, Raven, you dropped your—" Too late. Beast Boy shrugged and doubled over, scooping up Raven's lost piece of paper. He stared at it, eyes traveling over the neatly printed words.

Don't they see me crying,
Or that she is lying?
Slowly disappearing
Being forgotten searing
Nothing ever hurt more
Falling apart at the core
Inwardly screaming
Delirious and dreaming
I am not a witch
I am not a witch

1 1 1

Knock.

Knock.

"Go away, Beast Boy," Raven shouted, fuming. She was floating cross-legged above a decoratively gory carpet. A distinct sprinkling of white powder created a perfectly circular pentacle around her. Oddly shaped glass bottles formed an irregular inner ring. Meditation was vital to her concentration, as the new spell she was teaching herself was the most difficult she had ever learned, save for the ones Malchior taught her. Just the thought of the snake-like (literally and figuratively) traitor transformed her fiery anger into a bonfire. Every knock jarred her focus.

"Can I come in?" Whiny, high-pitched, timid. It was Beast Boy without a doubt.

"Are you deaf," she retorted, assuming her monotone once again.

"No." Whiny, high-pitched, and now irritable. Good. "Let me in, Raven." Whiny, high-pitched, and insistent. Crap.

"Why should I?"

"Because I'm here to return your poetry," he said, holding his breath.

A pause. Then the pneumatic door with the word RAVEN deeply carved into it whooshed open. A sinister-looking hood poked out, and he was speared with two narrowed eyes before she snatched the paper from his outstretched green hand. He winced.

'Well, what are you waiting for? Get lost,' said the eyes.

Beast Boy swallowed nervously, before plucking up his courage to say, "Hey, Rae…um…what was that poem about?"

"Why do you care?" Raven said brusquely.

"Because I care about you," Beast Boy heard his voice say.

The two eyes lost their edge. "You do?"

He blushed, but managed to repeat his question without too much stammering. Raven's eyes regained their hardness as she snapped, "You should know. You agreed with whatever Terra said to you. You trailed around her like a lovesick puppy."

It took Beast Boy a moment to process the fact that he had been insulted. Another moment to apprehend that the door had been slammed in his face. He marveled that it was possible for a pneumatic door to slam. "Really, why do I care?"