Little FYI, I will, without a doubt, never post anything for the Titans live action show and honestly couldn't care less about it. Sorry to those expecting work from me. I might post something related to Young Justice, but that's really dependent on how I feel.
This particular story takes place within the 2003 cartoon. It's just a small drabble following season 3 episode 9 (The Beast Within). Of course, it's Robin/Raven. Honestly, it can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, and I won't argue with people for one of the other.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters of DC comics. The ideas are all mine.
Robin didn't know why, but he couldn't let go of the scrap of Raven's azure cloak. He kept the piece in his pocket and forgot to take it out. The cotton velvet provided comfort in a way he couldn't really understand.
He could not erase the memory of that same cloak tightly inside their teammate's mouth. Her body swayed like a damp piece of paper. Unconsciously, her body was flaccid as she was no longer consumed with the usual tension. Even the expression on her face was downcast in defeat. And, at that moment, he had no idea how to help her.
At least it was all over now.
Raven walked into the living room with Beast Boy following her. Whatever she had said to him seemed to bring back his usual smile. Everything was as it should be.
Except him, it seemed.
Beast Boy embraced the empath with a hug behind her back– one she didn't reciprocate– before running off to find Cyborg.
Robin finally released the grip he wasn't aware he had on the fabric when the shapeshifter left. When she began walking over, he immediately stood at her presence. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
She gave him a blank stare which, in her own way, was a look of comfort. She pulled out a box of tea bags from the drawer and used her powers to put a kettle on the stove. Looking up, Raven noticed his nerves hadn't calmed in his face. So, she gave him a verbal reassurance, "Beast Boy's teeth marks will turn to bruises, which should heal fairly quick."
"He bit you?" his eyes scanned her uniform behind his mask. Last time he checked, the monitors hadn't detected something so vicious.
"I told you, Robin, Beast Boy was doing what he could, given the circumstances," defended Raven, "Besides, scratches and bruises are almost a guarantee, given our line of work."
The leader shook his head and muttered under his breath, "Not from each other."
"Robin, please. I am not in the mood to go in circles about this. Obviously, neither are you."
He frowned at the purple-haired girl, "What do you mean?"
She was interrupted by the squealing kettle. So, she moved the pot off the stove and poured the water in her cup as she spoke. "You have this nervous, angry energy around you," she remarked, "and it's heavier than usual."
Robin started clenching the cloth in his pocket again. "I…I was worried about you," he felt so naked saying that to her. He wouldn't admit that he was mad at himself for not seeing the warning signs, mostly in Beast Boy's new attitude.
"I know," Raven said, "As our leader, you're obligated to look out for all of us."
It was more than that, he knew that much.
"After we… found you," he hesitated, "It seemed like you were barely alive. You were so still, and I was afraid we'd… we'd lose you."
She put her drink down to study his emotions and his expressions. The empath saw all the signatures of a guilt-ridden friend and a shameful leader. But, there was one sense she was struggling to pick from him. Something she remembered only popping up in the presence of civilians and families.
Raven felt she probably should've comforted him with a hug or a pat on the back, but that went against her instinct of keeping her distance. "Unfortunately, there will always be the possibility of losing one of us as we remain heroes. But, now is not that time," she reminded him, "There's no need to mourn."
Before she could leave, he put a gloved hand on her shoulder, a move quite similar to the one he made in their first meeting. "You're right, Rave," he said, "Thanks for listening."
She hesitantly put her own hand over his, "Of course, Robin," before quickly removing both of their hands, and heading towards her room.
He gave the scrap of fabric a final squeeze in his pocket before heading to his own room.