Anxiety
Hey guys! SO it's been a hectic week (lots of overtime getting ready for a big event) AND I'm going back up to my university for homecoming this weekend (huzzah being a recent graduate! Shit I'm old…), so I feel intense guilt over not getting a new chapter of 'Lost in the Storm' up. I left it at a rather rude cliffhanger, but ch15 is going to be a monster to write and I don't have the time or energy before leaving tomorrow morning for upstate NY.
Instead, here is a little one-shot as an apology. It's short, kinda experimental, weird, maybe a little fluffy, suggestive, aaaand it was just fun to write. I like it.
Rating: this is a strong T. Consider yourself warned.
Disclaimer: I'm a poor graduate who only owns Ikea furniture. No Titans here.
It was a quiet fall morning and the leaves were just beginning to turn. These days were Raven's favorites. The air was cool, the sun often bright, and the turn of the season never failed to leave Raven a little more relaxed. One might not expect that from a young hero usually so opposed to change, but the subtle shifts in the air always made her think of hope, and hope was a very important thing indeed. Robin had taught her that.
But today was not relaxing. No, the very same boy who taught her the importance of hope and reveled in the changing seasons alongside her was making sure today would not, could not, be relaxing in any way. In fact, he had done so for many days now. Weeks, even. It was a game to him, one born of summer boredom, and apparently too much fun to let go of now that the heat had evaporated from the season. Raven couldn't quite put her finger on what he did that, well, did it, but all the same, sometimes he got it into his mind that he would not play nice today. Unfortunately for Raven and her new book, this was one of those days.
It usually started with that always uncomfortable, sometimes painful, pressure in her chest that forced the oxygen in her lungs to the top. She could not get a full breath when he was near. Lightheaded, not dizzy, but with a tension behind her eyes as his presence tingled along her skin in hums of desire. Raven clenched her jaw as the cloth of his pants scratched against the couch all too close to her. Then with realization, her eyes froze on the phrase "concerned about the children" in her book.
It was anxiety.
That's what he gave her, she decided. Pure, unadulterated, annoying anxiety. She hated it.
Raven pursed her lips as Robin shuffled around again, moving even closer if that was at all possible, without actually touching her. She took a measured breath in through her nose, held it, and quietly exhaled. She would make damn sure he didn't notice her discomfort.
Anxiety was a curious thing. Of course, he didn't give her real anxiety, because that was a very serious matter, and this was something slightly short of serious if she stepped back to look at the situation. He did, however, make her quite anxious, and saying Robin gave her anxiousness was just cumbersome. Anxiety sounded a touch more poetic. Raven flexed a hand and fiddled with a page corner, wondering if he had noticed she had not flipped the paper in over a minute.
Fact: he put her on edge. Fact: she felt apprehensive. Fact: she was physiologically panicked, though not mentally shaken or fearful. There were differences between all of these words, and it was hard to really find the right words for the emotions running through her right now as she read and reread "concerned about the children" in her book.
It was… what was it that she felt. Lead in her throat, but weightless breath caught in her chest. A pounding heart even the hottest cup of herbal tea could not fix. Mercury in her arms, though her legs felt like airy entities of tingling sensation. There were nothing but queasy butterflies in her stomach, and the only respite from the feelings on days like today came in the safety of darkness, in her own room, late at night. Yet even then, Robin found a way to invade her mind, sending her heart pounding and blood rushing once more as breath refused to fill her lungs.
Is this the price we must pay for love? Well, if you even want to call it that. He certainly would. Raven certainly would not. It was more of an annoyance than anything, she thought, and that was putting it lightly.
So there she sat, legs crossed and book open to page 137 in her lap. "Concerned about the children." She didn't even know who was concerned about the children, or why, or what their names were anymore. She read no sentences. Raven was all too aware of Robin sitting next to her, leg ghosting against her bare knee as he sipped his coffee and flipped through the dull hum of channels. The others were all gone for the day, out visiting Titans East or shopping. Robin had opted to stay home, citing reasons such as research and filing.
She knew that was a lie.
For that matter, Raven was pretty sure everyone else knew, too.
She had felt his masked eyes on the back of her head even as he said it—research and filing—and she could still feel the burn of his gaze even though Cyborg had asked him to go with them hours ago. And now Robin sat at her side instead. He knew he gave her anxiety. Anxiousness. Anxious feelings akin to panic, accompanied with tingling sensations and dizziness and the very strong desire to run to the rooftop and lock the door behind her. But Raven was neither one for running nor for backing down.
So there they sat, legs almost touching, breaths matched, just waiting for someone to make the first move.
And then she didn't care so much about who was "concerned about the children" or why.
"How is that research and filing coming along, oh fearless leader?" she said lightly, mentally marking her spot in her book as she flipped to another page for show.
"Splendidly, oh emotive one," Robin responded, just as airily. "And your laundry?"
"Fantastic." Raven's excuse for the day had, clearly, been laundry. Only hers had been a real excuse, never mind that said laundry had finished its cycle in the dryer five minutes after the others had left for the day.
"Ah yes, I do remember it finishing a few hours ago. Yet here you sit, with dry laundry downstairs. I suppose you don't need any help folding?"
"It's nothing you haven't seen before, Boy Wonder," Raven said, a smirk at the corner of her mouth Robin couldn't see. He did, however, sense it.
"You sure about that?" he asked, dropping the forced air of casual sophistication. As he spoke, he finally turned to look at her, his grin all danger as he leaned forward into her personal space. Raven felt the heat creeping up her neck, but she remained cool as she turned another unread page in her book.
"Quite certain," she said delicately. She felt his breath on her cheek as he leaned closer, still not touching, but his arm snaked across the back of the couch so she was now, for lack of a better word, trapped. The tingling was back in full force, every inch of Raven's skin humming, yet still she focused on the ink in her book as she turned another page.
"Why Raven, I believe you just skipped a page in your book," Robin said in a low voice. His words heated the bare skin of her neck, and briefly Raven wished she were wearing her leotard, if only for the turtleneck, instead of the t-shirt she often wore on laundry day. A shiver tickled at the base of her spine.
"Why Robin," she mimicked as she snapped the book shut and raised her head to stare at the TV in front of her, "I've skipped the past three pages, actually, and you've only just now noticed? Your detective skills must be getting rusty." She felt the vibrations from his chest as he chuckled, impossible as that seemed, as he had yet to actually touch her.
"You may be right," he murmured. "Why don't we put my detecting skills to the test and see what needs fixing?" Now he touched her, hand leaving the couch to stretch down around her. His bare fingertip against her upper arm was like electricity, a slow, sweet shock as he trailed it down to her elbow, bringing his chest into her side as he leaned into her. Reaching her inner elbow, he pulled his arm back again, drawing his finger up her arm and across her shoulders. He hooked it into the collar of her t-shirt, drawing the material away from her neck as he dipped his face towards the bare skin.
"I believe you have some research to do," she said, biting back a small gasp as Robin pressed his lips to her exposed shoulder. Robin hummed his agreement, sending little murmurs through her skin as he kissed a trail up her neck to the sensitive spot behind her jaw, just below her ear.
"You always smell so good," he mumbled, his hand leaving the fabric of her t-shirt to cup the back of her head, fingers tangling in her lavender hair. The other lazily traveled to rest on her leg, his thumb just barely sneaking under the hem of her shorts. Raven finally smiled and turned her head, lips meeting his as she tossed her book to the end of the couch and moved to sit on his lap, knees resting on either side of him.
"Is that so?" she spoke against his lips, hands moving to play with the short hair at the nape of his neck. Robin broke away to press a kiss to the delicate hollow above her collarbone. Raven laughed as he nosed aside her shirt to get there, tickling her.
"It's all those showers," he growled playfully, nipping at her skin as he brought his lips crashing back into hers.
"I told you like five hundred times, man!" A voice boomed from down the hallway, and Raven leaned back from Robin to peer over his shoulder at the door with some level of annoyance. Robin's thumbs pressed gentle circles into her lower back as he watched her watch the door.
"Dude!" Beast Boy's indignation was loud and shrill.
"I'll say it again!" Cyborg's voice was louder than it needed to be, Raven noted with a smirk. "Did. You. Bring. Mega. Monkeys. Ten."
"How thoughtful of our friends," Raven mused, dropping her gaze to Robin as she pressed another kiss to his lips.
"Just when I thought they couldn't get louder," Robin shrugged. "I suppose we should save them the embarrassment. They warned us, after all."
"But the look on Cyborg's face last time was so priceless," Raven said.
"And Beast Boy's the time before that," Robin sighed.
"I said I was sorry!" Beast Boy's voice was closer now, as was the stomp of Cyborg's feet. Raven moved so that she was kneeling on the couch, ignoring Robin's pout as she crossed her arms and leaned on the couch's back to watch the door. Grumbling, Robin turned to do the same.
"Heyyy," Cyborg said, drawing out the y as he reached up to scratch the back of his head. He gave Beast Boy a kick and the changeling ran forward to grab the forgotten game.
"Forget something?" Raven quipped.
"You know me!" Beast Boy forced a laugh as he dug through the shelf. Low curses were heard as he searched for his target.
"Well then," Robin said cheerfully, turning to Raven. "Filing room?"
"Filing room," she responded. Both stood up and walked around the opposite ends of the couch, rejoining and brushing by Cyborg as they left the room.
"Later!" Robin called over his shoulder as the door swished closed behind them, leaving Cyborg with a half-angry, half-disturbed look on his face as he fought the urge to swipe at the back of Robin's head.
"Man, remind me to never go in that room ever again," Raven heard Cyborg say as the two birds made their way down the hall towards the elevator.
Yeah…. So originally this stopped at the "make the first move" line because I didn't know where I wanted to go with it, then as I wrote it, the story took on its own life. This isn't my usual, so maybe that's why it was so fun, but there you go! A little piece of humor/fluff to hold onto until I can update 'Lost in the Storm' next week!
Peace and buh-lessins,
Ash =)