Turns out taking four years to write a fanfiction is plenty of time for you to start critiquing every aspect of it. So I'm rewriting the whole damn thing. No promises on prompt updates, but every promise to complete the damn thing.

Warning: This fiction is rated 'M' for a reason. It contains language and themes not suitable for children. I'm not going to censor myself because you choose not to read the warnings listed above. I have a mouth like a sailor. I'm big on innuendo.

Disclaimer: All characters, setting, and other aspects of the Teen Titans belong to their creators and DC Comics. All lyrics and song titles belong to their respective creatives.


"I'm a rebel just for kicks, yeah
Your love is an abyss for my heart to eclipse, now
Might be over now, but I feel it still."
- "Feel it Still", Portugal. The Man

It's been such a slow day today. Gavin Thorne, owner and sole employee of Thorny for Vinyl: New and Used Music, smothered a yawn behind one hand, while using the other to flip through artists in his iPod. He'd been playing the latest Portugal. The Man album nonstop for the last two days (he may be a music snob, but dammit "Feel it Still" was a catchy fucking song), and it was time to find something new to put on. He'd been searching for at least ten minutes, and still nothing jumped out at him. Fuck. Shuffle it is.

He tossed his iPod back onto the counter in front of him and stood up, stretching every muscle in his body up and towards the ceiling. He hadn't had a day like this since he'd opened his doors three years ago – not a single soul had come in today. Even his regular group of kids who swung by every day after school to read comics and work on homework in the lounge area of the shop hadn't made an appearance. He'd briefly considered closing up early, but it was already 6:00 PM, and he closed at 8:00. May as well just tough it out, right? At least he could use the time to do some of the "house-keeping" that he'd been putting off.

Gavin decided, as he was heading out of his office armed with nothing more than an inventory checklist and the pen tucked behind his ear, that staying open had been the dumbest fucking decision he'd ever made.

"This is a fucking stick-up!" Two masked men and guns. It took every ounce of will in his body to not roll his eyes. Fucking perfect. This was exactly how he wanted to spend the rest of his night. Whatever. He could handle this – or stall long enough for someone else to handle it instead. He approached the counter slowly, hands up, one tightly gripping his inventory sheets.

"Okay, guys. I'm going to sit this down on the counter and then open the cash dra-"

"Don't fucking move!" One of the thugs, who Gavin was officially naming Idiot #1, waved his gun around. Gavin was now torn between the effort of not rolling his eyes and not flinching. Of course he was being robbed by two idiots who had never heard of basic gun safety. Someone was going to get shot. He hoped that it was one of them.

"I just need to put my code in to get into the cash drawer." He spoke to them calmly, keeping his voice steady and his tone reasonable. Reasonable was nice. Reasonable kept the violence to a minimum. Reasonable kept the idiots with guns from shooting him.

Idiot #2 used their gun to motion Gavin to continue his advance towards the counter and drawer. Gavin was just putting the code in to open his drawer when a green streak of light blasted through his window, shattering it and slamming one of the armed thugs into the wall. Their companion, Idiot #1, began randomly firing his gun into the air, aiming towards the open hole that had once been a window. Gavin decided it was in his best interest to dive behind his heavy, marble counter and stay the hell out of the way. Sure, it was cowardly, but he'd lived in Jump City long enough to draw conclusions on who had arrived to save the day. And he knew they didn't even vaguely need his help.

Unfortunately, his heavy marble hiding place blocked his view of the fighting, but he could hear enough to determine which side of the battle was coming out on top. There were several more crashes, what sounded like a dinosaur roar (which Gavin fervently hoped against – his insurance didn't cover prehistoric damage) and then a high-pitched scream. When he finally dared to look up, both would-be robbers were unconscious and the Teen Titans were making jokes at their expense. Or was it just Titans now? He vaguely remembered hearing that they'd dropped the 'Teen' as soon as everyone hit twenty.

"Dude, did you hear that guy screech?" The green one – Beast Boy? Changeling? – was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his face. His team mates had joined in – all but one. She stood a little off from the others, her blue hood down and away from her face for once. Gavin stared for a moment, taking in her features. God, she was gorgeous. Absolutely perfect in that alternative, cold kind of way. Plus, she was such a fucking badass. His weakness. Gavin chalked her standing alone up to fate, took a deep breath and…

"Hey uh, Raven. I just wanted to say…thanks. You guys really saved my ass."

Garfield understood. He did. Being the savior to a city would always, always create serious fan-boy level crushes. But he could never understand why the fanboys would crush on Raven. Sure, she was hot – if you went for that short, shapely type. You know, legs that would absolutely grab your attention and make you drool, attached to an ass that was totally molded to be grabbed and…Off Topic, Garfield. FOCUS! Jesus, dude.

Gar shook his head back to its previous train of thought. But she could be kind of a bitch, and she never smiled for her fans. Or even acknowledged them, even. Starfire having a fandom made sense. But Raven?! And yet, they flocked to her. Every single Hot Topic ad wannabe, swarming to ask her about poetry, or beg her to come see their awesome band play at this awesome venue, even though both parties were aware that the band sucked and the venue was shithole, and why the fuck would one of the city's superheroes give a shit about terrible poetry or your shitty band?

He turned his gaze towards his teammate and sighed. There she was, ignoring another good-looking, tattooed bad boy who was flashing his perfect white teeth and running his hands through his stupid prohibition-looking hipster haircut. But for all that she'd yet to respond to the guy, or even look at him, Gar could make out the small blush coloring her cheeks. And that. Blush. Terrified. Him. Could she actually be listening to this guy? It wasn't possible. Was it? …Shit. He felt his ears droop. Now would be an awesome time for one of the robbers to wake back up. I need to punch something.

"Yo, String Bean. Whatchu starin' at?"

The super hero formerly known as Beast Boy, currently known as Changeling, soon to be known as That Fucking Creep Who Kept Ogling his Coworker, froze and turned around as slowly as he could, trying to mold his face into a 'no, I wasn't just staring at our teammate, who you view as your little sister, while simultaneously imagining the death of the jerk currently trying to get into her panties' expression. Judging from the smirk on Cyborg's face, his attempts were not successful.

Goddammit.

"Raven seems pretty into that dude. I mean, she's usually zapped their mouths shut by now, so that's gotta be a point in his face." Cyborg turned his attention from Garfield and back to the couple. Gar felt himself relaxing – Cy wasn't immediately teasing him, so maybe he hadn't noticed Gar's equal parts but totally unrelated lusty and murder-y thoughts. "Dang, I guess that's bad news for you though, huh?"

Son of a bitch.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Cy. And also – shut the fuck up." Gar raised his middle fingers in his best friend's direction.

"I'm just sayin' man. It doesn't take the world's greatest detective to know you're feelin' Raven." Cyborg held his hands up in the universal gesture of 'don't shoot the messenger.' Sure, Gar was his best friend. But that didn't make him immune to a little ribbing every once in a while. Okay, a lot of ribbing. A lot of a while. But come on, the green bean was pretty much always asking for it.

"Cy. Dude. I swear to god; I will turn into an octopus and rip you limb from limb." The shifter waved two tentacle arms in the air just to help get the message across. "And again. No idea what you're talking about."

"Friend Changeling – why are you threatening Friend Cyborg with bodily harm?" And now Starfire was involved.

Fanfuckingtastic.

Cyborg's grin was now bordering on obscene. The man had zero fucking chill. Gar knew he'd have to nip this in the bud – if Starfire got involved it would turn into a full-scale catastrophe. He loved his alien teammate dearly, but she wasn't even a little subtle at the best of times. Time to make an excuse.

"Uh, Cy was just saying he's-"

"Grass Stain's in love with Raven."

Dammit.

He had to kill Cyborg now. It was the only option.

"Oh, that is GLORIOUS news! Friend Changeling, why did you not tell us that you had the feelings of love for Friend Raven?" Starfire's joy sent her floating into the air. But then confusion marred her features and she dropped quickly back down to earth. Gar felt his stomach clench. Star's sadness did not bode well for him. "But Friend Raven is doing the dating with the painted man. They are going to the concert of stones tomorrow night."

Cyborg and Garfield shared twin looks of befuddlement. Cyborg finally took a deep breath and attempted to explain, "Uh Star, those are tattoos. They're permanent. Like what Arsenal has. And they're probably going to a rock concert. Like what Dic-uhhh, Nightwing makes us listen to when he has musical control in the training room."

"Yeah. Wait. They're doing WHAT?"

Starfire, who had been nodding along to Cyborg's explanation, turned her green eyes towards him. They were filled with excitement. "Yes! He asked, and she agreed. They even traded numbers on their cellular devices."

Son of a BITCH.