A/N: This oneshot came about as a result of watching too much Red Dwarf and Doctor Who at the same time as I ate a bowl of rice and drank about a litre of Sprite.

If it's miserable, tell me and I'll put it through my depraved mind a second time and make it even more so.

THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT: YOU MUST READ THIS WHILE LISTENING TO THE SONG "The Fez" by Steely Dan.

I'd say "Enjoy", but that implies that it's possible to enjoy this.

Windolene and Swarfega

After a particularly taxing faceoff with Deathstroke, most of the Titans elected to simply sleep it off.

Not so Raven.

She went for a walk, quietly strolling around the corridors.

When she got in close proximity to the common room, however, she heard a faint voice (one that sounded suspiciously like Robin's) singing.

Robin. Singing. He didn't sing. Ever.

Something was up; so she floated over to the doors, pushed a button to open them and entered the room, stepping gently down onto the floor.

She could hear Robin's lilting singing quite clearly now, being almost right behind him.

He was singing Bob Dylan's "Shelter From The Storm."

Not only that, but since he hadn't noticed her yet, something was clearly wrong with him.

She cleared her throat. "Never took you for a blues fan, Boy Blunder."

Robin span around far too quickly in his seat on the couch.

"Oh. Hi, Rae-Rae. Heh." he said, attempting to get up, and failing miserably.

Now something was definitely up. Robin did not call her "Rae-Rae" unless he was either insane or had a death wish. And not being able to get up? Not possible.

Robin gestured haphazardly for her to sit on the couch beside him, and she complied, if only to find out what was up with him.

Or so she told herself.

Robin hiccuped.

"Robin," she said, slightly shocked, "have you been drinking?"

Robin threw his arms up in the air. "Yes, obviously. Now, before you kill me, I'm sorry I drank four litres of that pink shit in the bottle marked "Raven" and yes, I know it was alcoholic, that's why I drank it; sometimes I just feel so crap I need some kind of intoxication just to feel any better at all, you know. Sorry. Feel free to murder me in whatever imaginative way you choo-"

Raven interrupted him with a shocked question. "You drank my Windolene?"

Robin looked confused. "Windolene?"

"I was cleaning the window outside of my room yesterday, and I must have forgotten to put it away."

Robin shrugged. "It tasted alright with that green liquor-ey stuff I found at the back of your locker in the garage."

"You drank my Swarfega too?" Raven choked, trying to stop herself from laughing at his "meh, I don't care if I just drank industrial cleaner" look.

Robin nodded. "I didn't really read the label."

"Oh my god, that is hilariou- Wait, why did you go through my locker?" Raven asked.

"I wanted to find one of your cloaks and cry deeply into it, obviously." Robin said sarcastically. "I didn't pick and choose, I just went for the one that was closest. God, my head hurts."

Raven snorted. "Of course it does, that Windolene is practically 99% alcohol. You've had about a hundred units of alcohol, I'm surprised you can still talk."

"A hundred, eh? An eighteenth of the alcohol content of a Glaswegian bar."

"How do you know the alcohol content of a Glaswegian bar?"

"Weird night with Speedy and Kid Flash. Don't ask."

"I don't think I want to."

Robin looked sideways at her. "The same night I had to punch Speedy out to stop him from professing his undying love to some waitress. Think her name was Jade or something..."

"Robin, I really do not want to hear about your evidently raunchy midnight escapades."

"Says the girl with a copy of Fifty Shades Of Grey hidden in her closet."

A lightbulb exploded.

"There's a reason for that, it's...um...I don't know, distracting?" the girl in question said, blushing.

"I believe the term you were looking for is erotic."

"It is not."

"Yeeeess, it is. However, while we're on the subject of erotic things, you've got that face on again." Robin said, stretching.

"Which face would that be?"

"The he's-cute-when-he's-right face."

"This is my normal face." Raven said, going very slightly pink.

"Yes, it is." Robin said triumphantly.

She realised what she'd done.

"Shut up, you."

Robin managed a "Not a chance" before she slapped a hand over his mouth.

Raven looked at him as he told her (in Sign Language, which she didn't know he knew) "Please let me go, you madwoman"

"Do you promise not to be a complete jerk?"

Robin nodded innocently and she let him go.

They sat in silence for a minute or two, until Robin (in his drunken state) decided it was a good idea to rest his head on Raven's shoulder and rub it up and down quietly.

She would have been (mostly) alright with that fact (this was Robin after all, and he was pretty hot anyway) if he hadn't also decided to say "Some days, Raven, I just want to snog your face off."

It was at this point that most of the room exploded and a large chunk of ceiling panel detached itself and smacked them both on the head, before falling to the floor in front of them.

And so, the sequence of events that, come morning, had Raven in a destroyed room, clutching her head with a sleeping Robin drooling into her breasts and vowing to never allow him access to alcohol ever again, while Cyborg had fifteen different kinds of major system failure at the sight, was over.