Disclaimer: I sure don't own the Teen Titans, although I'd like to!
Author's Note: You can read this story many different ways. I have one in mind, but I left the purpose of the story a little open-ended. I make some hints to things, but they are just hints. It was just an interesting little foray for me, a cute little scene I'd wanted to write and Beast Boy stepped up to be my character.
I hope you enjoy, and please review even if you don't enjoy yourself.
If there was one thing Beast Boy hated about shopping, it was the checking out - both of him and by him, at the register. People gawked like they'd never seen him on the news before or patrolling on the streets and he really didn't get it. How could they not have noticed him? He was green, for goodness' sake. Green stood out like a sore green thumb everywhere (well, almost everywhere; he kinda blended in at the park). There was no avoiding him.
And yet there they were, pointing and screaming and falling over themselves just to look at him.
Part of him kinda liked that, and part of him...was a little scared, to be honest. There were just so many people, so many screaming people and so much noise and movement and excitement and he could smell it, smell their wonder and fascination and fear and lust?
He didn't want to think about that.
He didn't want to think about the double-D brunette over by the bras who kept shooting him looks.
So he focused on the table of t-shirts in front of him instead. They were really interesting tees. There were a load of interesting sayings and interesting colors and interesting, er, shapes...
Okay, maybe not so much. But it was something to look at, and right now he needed to focus on something other than everyone else still eyeing him even though he'd been here for like, ten minutes, at least.
He took a deep breath to try and steady his shaky fingers and stomach. Nobody had to see him wavering - after all, he was a superhero. (Was he? Did superheroes get nervous whenever someone looked at them like...that? Did they wonder how anyone could ever find him attractive when all he saw in the mirror was a failed experiment? Was that what a hero was like?)
It wasn't often that he wasn't acting - acting out, acting up, acting, acting everywhere with everyone, even his friends. He was a cheerful person by nature, of course, and he was comfortable with them, but it seemed like there was a role he had in their group that he couldn't violate. It seemed like some unwritten rule; it seemed like nature. And if there was one thing Beast Boy respected, it was nature.
Naturally, then, he was drawn to the bright green t-shirt on this sale table. Now that he was here and looking them over and pretending to be interested, he noticed a couple of interesting t-shirts besides that first one which had originally drawn his eye. In the end, he ended up liking most of the shirts, but he didn't like spending his money very much so he made himself choose just one.
It wasn't easy.
T-shirt in hand, Beast Boy made the slow walk to the register. It was a small store that catered to only a few customers - well, "a few" was in relation to the whole population of Jump City that numbered somewhere in the hundred thousands. Robin took care of that kind of statistical information, not Beast Boy.
Beast Boy tossed the t-shirt lightly in his hand, testing its weight. He really didn't care how much it weighed, weight and numbers and all of those technical things weren't important to him. He acted on instinct; pure, natural instinct. No, he was just tossing the shirt because he could; because it gave him something to focus on instead of these eyes watching every step and movement and could they see everything, could they see inside his head and see his intentions?
He was there.
"Howdy there. Is that all?" the cashier asked, his blond hair sticking up in all directions.
Beast Boy put on his best hero face - a smile - and nodded.
The cashier scanned the shirt, although he had to unfold it to find the tag. He laughed.
"I love this one," he said.
Beast Boy grinned despite himself, accidentally baring his fangs.
The cashier didn't seem to notice, despite his hair being so similar to Robin's.
"That'll be $12.72, please," was all he said, still grinning.
Beast Boy heaved a wallet out of his front right pocket of his tight black jeans.
"Looks like that thing's seen better days," the cashier joked.
The wallet was dull and bruised, like the underside of a saltine painted black.
Beast Boy laughed despite himself, long green fingers flipping through the green bills.
"That's for sure," Beast Boy muttered after his short, high-pitched yipping laugh.
He handed over thirteen dollars.
The cashier counted it, placed it in the register, and administered Beast Boy's change and receipt.
"Have a nice day," he said, still smiling, and as Beast Boy took the small plastic bag from him, he felt like this dude really didn't care who Beast Boy was at all. The cashier didn't care that he was ringing up a superhero. All he was doing was checking out another customer, making small talk like he did with all the other customers who were interesting.
Or at least, that's what Beast Boy thought, and it made him smile.
Beast Boy made the slow walk to the exit. Just before he got to the threshold, he turned back and stared at the cashier one last time. His purchase seemed so much more relevant now:
"Gentlemen prefer blonds."
And if Beast Boy was anything, he was certainly a gentleman.