I said I'd never do it, but here I've done it—I wrote a romance one-shot. Though I prefer to think of it as more of a Robin one-shot. I had the idea a while back, inspired by Mark Harris's song "For the First Time," and as I listened I couldn't help but think of Robin, and… well, this is what happened. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: Yeah, I know I don't own the Teen Titans.

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I was waiting for a push, waiting for a sign
Waiting for the perfect moment to arrive

The bar was cool beneath my hands. Or at least, it had been, until I had stood there so long that it no longer felt cold.

"Do you plan on swinging anytime at all today, son?" asked my father, trying to be patient. Swallowing, I nodded. I could understand the exasperation in his voice; after all, I'd been up here for about twenty minutes.

All you have to do is jump, and I'll catch you. That's what Mom had said. And she was right over there on the opposite platform, her long legs swinging, her head tipped to one side curiously as though to ask why on earth I hadn't jumped yet. Well, I wasn't about to say it out loud, but one glance downward provided me with that answer. It was so high up… What if I fell? True, there was the net, but still…

"Come on, little robin!" Mom called out. I looked over at her when she said my nickname.

"Go on, Dick, we've got you," my father urged gently.

I finally unstuck my throat from the fear. "I know, but…." I trailed off.

"Are you scared?" he asked, even more quietly. Unable to speak again, I nodded.

"Do you want me to help you?" Another nod.

Just for the record, I was expecting advice on how to handle this situation. Then again, knowing my father, this was probably a dumb idea, because as soon as I nodded, Dad pushed me off the platform.

I clung to the bar like a monkey as I flew. For a split second, I was more terrified than I'd ever been in my life. Then the fear washed away in the pure adrenaline rush, and my yell of fright turned into a whoop of joy. I released the bar and flipped into the air, just as my parents had shown me, and my mother caught me on her bar.

"Dick, are you alright?" she asked anxiously as soon as we landed on the platform. My voice seemed to have flown out of the circus tent, and I stared at her with my blue eyes wide and my mouth hanging open. I'd done it. Still, Mom wasn't exactly thrilled.

"John!" she scolded as Dad swung over. "You shouldn't have pushed him, he wasn't ready!"

"Of course he was!" Dad grinned. "Weren't you, son?" he reached down and ruffled my black hair. "He did brilliantly, and ten to one says he's not scared of heights anymore."

It was true. I looked down off the edge of the platform, and suddenly the distance didn't seem so far. Not that it looked any less dangerous, of course. Still, as though in defiance of the height and the queasy feeling in my stomach when I thought about falling, I hung my legs over the side, swinging them as my mother had done. I frowned. Dad was laughing.

"It wasn't funny, Dad," I told him.

"Not from your point of view, it wasn't," he grinned. "Aw, c'mon, Dick, you can't both be mad at me!" I didn't look at him. There was a scuffling sound, and when I turned my father was on his knees in a begging position. "Come on, son. You can't tell me you aren't even a little bit glad I pushed you. After all, you did it, didn't you? And nothing bad happened."

I turned back around without speaking, but after a few moments I gave a small shrug. Laughing, my dad got to his feet and clapped my shoulder, saying, "That's my boy!" I turned around and stuck my tongue out at him, which made him laugh harder and Mom smile.

I was pouting now, but that was okay; I was eight years old and I was allowed to on occasion. I swung my feet out a little further, scowling on the outside, but squirming with joy on the inside. I had done it! And I could do it again, without a push. I looked at my parents, whose backs were to me, and allowed a smile to steal across my face. We were going to be the best act in the history of circuses. The Flying Graysons, a family of acrobats!

Steady as a clock, caught between the line
Living for myself until I realized
There's too much life You've given me
To let it slip away

Bruce had left again, but I didn't know where to. He'd been in the library when I left him, but he sure wasn't there anymore. Alfred wouldn't tell me where he had gone. This irritated me—after all, we'd been living in the same house for three years, ever since my parents had died when I was nine. Bruce usually involved me in any discussion our little "family" had, whether it was a business transaction (which, to be honest, bored me to tears) or deciding not to tell Alfred who it was who spilt the coffee behind the chair in the living room, even though we all knew that I didn't drink coffee yet. Things going on in our lives right now, and past events that had shaped us forever: we'd shared them both, and now Bruce couldn't even tell me where he was going?

Fuming, I marched off to the garage for the fifteenth time to count the cars again, although I knew all twenty-seven would be there. But what had Bruce taken if he hadn't driven a car? And why had he been gone so long? I glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway—and stopped.

The face of the clock said that it was nine twenty-nine, but that wasn't right. Bruce had disappeared around seven o'clock; I'd been watching something on the National Geographic channel at the time. I knew that Bruce had not yet been gone for an hour and a half. It was curious that Alfred would forget to set the clock, considering there was hardly anything he forgot to do. He may have been old, but Alfred was always as sharp as a knife. Which explained how he always knew when I slid down the banisters or trailed my fingers against the wall. I always got swatted at with the feather duster for that.

Figuring I wouldn't bother Alfred with something as trivial as a clock, I reached up and pried open the face to set it myself. I stood tiptoe to reach the hands and quietly cursed my height; it was extremely annoying to be twelve years old and still holding steady at four feet and ten inches. With a glance at the watch on my wrist, which I hadn't really thought to look at earlier, I saw that it was eight twenty-nine, exactly one hour before the set time. Eight twenty-nine, I thought as I rearranged the hands. Wasn't that Bruce's birthday?

No sooner were the hands in place than something weird began to happen. The clock face shut with a snap and with a grating sound, it seemed to fall back into the wall. For a moment I considered running upstairs and denying everything when Alfred realized what I'd just done; there was no way I could escape trouble after making the antique clock melt into the wall. Instead, I stood and watched, fascinated, as the clock got all the way back and slid into the wall behind the bookcase, revealing a long stone staircase.

With a nervous glance around, I took a step inside. The air that rushed up to greet me was cool and damp, as though it came from someplace deep underground. Intrigued, I took a few more steps—and the clock slid shut behind me. I gulped; now there was nowhere to go but down.

There was a light at the bottom of the staircase, and a hum of machinery. I kept my hand against the wall to brace myself against the steep descent. Once the staircase ended, I was treated to the sight of my life.

A huge, cavernous lair had opened up around me, fitted with the most fascinating devices I'd ever even dreamed of. There were long low tables with all sorts of chemicals fizzing and frothing in their tubes. All sorts of weird devices were beeping and flashing gently, beckoning me to come investigate. On one wall, there was a huge computer that took up the entire space; instantly my fingers were itching to try it out. The opposite wall was a weapon's rack, and this I investigated thoroughly. There were grappling hooks and a variety of little tubes that I didn't dare touch, and smoke bombs and little disks that I couldn't tell the function of. I gingerly picked up something that looked like an oddly shaped boomerang, debating with myself about throwing it. I decided against it, and I studied the shape, running my fingers gently over the jagged edges. It was shaped like a bat.

And suddenly I realized where I was.

It was just my luck that at this time an engine revved somewhere in the cave. A long, black, formidable-looking car pulled into view. Everyone in Gotham knew it as the Batmobile. With a pneumatic hiss, the doors slid open, and out stepped the Dark Knight himself. Before I could even think about hiding, he'd spotted me.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, my eyes wide, his narrowed into slits beneath his mask. I took a deep breath.

"Hello, Bruce."

I'm ready to live, ready to breathe
Ready to take in everything
I'm ready to love, ready to shine

Ready to live this life of mine

I'd never before realized how big Gotham was. Thousands of lights glittered in the night sky, drowning out the stars and washing out the darkness. Those in the buildings merely gleamed, while the cars below shifted and traveled like earth-bound lightning bugs. They looked incredibly tiny from this height.

A slight wind stirred the cape that hung around my shoulders. I took a deep breath, clutching the grappling hook in my gloved hand. I felt a reassuring pressure on my shoulder. Looking up, Batman's cold face was gazing into my own.

"Are you ready?" he asked in the monotonous, uncaring voice Bruce always assumed when he put on the mask. I nodded noiselessly, my voice stuck somewhere behind my Adam's apple. The grappling hook still hung by my side.

"We've been over this a hundred times. Just aim, press the trigger, pull, and swing." I nodded again, but I didn't move. I was steeling myself for the jump. It was so high up….

Now it was Bruce's voice coming from the dark shadow behind me that always sent Gotham's villains tripping over themselves to get away.

"Are you scared?" he asked.

Suddenly a memory washed over me, one that had been buried for a long, long time; standing on top of a platform with a trapeze bar in my hand, with my father behind me and my mother swinging her legs on the platform opposite us. Just as I'd done then, I nodded once more, but this time unstuck my throat enough to add, "A little."

"Do you want me to help you?"

I paused, considering it for a moment. This was the final phase of my training; once I mastered this, I could accompany Batman every time he went out, as his sidekick, as his partner. But I knew he wouldn't be able to help me every time I got scared. I shook my head, saying, "I've got to do this on my own."

"All you have to do is jump," he said quietly. "If you fall, I'll catch you." He took his hand off my shoulder and stood beside me, raising his grappling hook. I raised mine.

"I know."

I aimed at the building across the far-below street, pressed the trigger, and gave the cord a short pull to check that it held. It did. I took a deep breath… and stepped off the roof of the building. And as the rope caught and I swung through the air in a graceful arc, I let out a pure whoop of joy.

Ready to jump, ready to fly for the first time

I want to take a dive, I want to take a chance
I want to make the most of every day I have

I lay on the bed in my room, thinking. I'd been doing this a lot lately; just lying while the moonlight streamed through the window and illuminated the wall with a silvery glow.

It had been three years since I'd joined Batman as Robin. Together we'd fought the Joker, the Riddler, the Scarecrow, Catwoman, the Penguin; every villain that Gotham had to throw at us. We'd spent hours training together, unraveling clues, puzzling over where we thought a villain was likely to strike next. And for three years, I'd been fine with this.

But now, for some reason, I was feeling restless.

I want to be alive, I want to be a man
'Cause being wild at heart is really who I am

I didn't want to be the sidekick anymore. Sometimes, when we were out on patrol, I felt like a puppy; following a master around, hoping for a little praise, acknowledgement, anything. I didn't want to be a follower anymore; I didn't want to stay in the shadows. I wanted independence, I wanted to be my own person; not the "and Robin" in "Batman and Robin." Just "Robin." I thirsted for a chance to be out on my own, to try things for myself, to prove how much I had learned, to show the world what I could do….

And to give Bruce a reason to be proud of me.

With a sigh, I got up off the bed and moved to the door in silence. I had to talk to Bruce, and I knew just where to find him.

You've put these dreams inside of me
So what can hold them back

"Bruce?"

My voice echoed hollowly in the dim cave, causing the bats clinging to the cave ceiling to squeak in protest. The tall, caped figure at the huge computer console did not turn around, but responded with a curt, "What is it, Dick?"

I took a deep breath. For some reason, this felt every bit as risky, as frightening, as jumping off a trapeze platform, or a tall building. I guess there's more than one form of flight.

"I need to talk to you."

I'm ready to live, ready to breathe
Ready to take in everything

"Robin, you must hold on tighter than that."

"This better?"

"Not quite that tightly; I will not drop you."

Starfire smiled down at me from her vantage point. She was floating just above my head, her flaming hair draping down around her face and mine like a curtain. Her hands were gripping my arms tightly, just below the elbow in an amazingly firm grip. I did the same to her so that our arms locked.

This was Starfire's idea—to take a moonlight fly over the ocean while the others had movie night. Raven was being held captive by Cyborg and Beast Boy, made to watch Roman Ninja: Dragon Fist Part Five for the third time in a week. She could have teleported to her room, but to be honest I think she enjoyed it. A little. Maybe.

I was a little apprehensive—there wasn't really a reason to be. We'd flown like this a hundred times during fights. I no longer harbored any fear that she would drop me; I knew her better than that. No, there was an entirely different reason for my anxiety tonight—I just couldn't figure out what it was.

"Are you ready?" Starfire asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Very well—hang on—"

And we were off, lifting off the Tower's roof as gently as a leaf on a breath of wind. The sky was black, punctured by a million pinpricks of white starlight. The moon was the brightest I'd ever seen it, and its mirrored twin glided ahead of us on the surface of the glimmering water as we skimmed low over the ocean's waves. We flew so close to the water that I could feel the sea spray, sharp and salty, on my face.

"Where are we going?" I called to Starfire over the hiss of the wind.

"You will see," she replied.

She flew us to the coast—not the beaches, though. We touched ground in the mouth of one of the many caves that jutted out of California's rocky mountain shores. The view was incredible: to one side, Jump City was a city of light; to the other, Titan's Tower stood as a far-off sentinel. For a while we sat on the pebbled ground, dangling our legs off the mouth of the cave, which dropped to a stark cliff until it reached the water's edge. Gradually, though, conversation stilled, and we sat in silence, drinking in the night's silence, our hearts throbbing to the rhythm of the surf.

You can get a strange connection with people when there are just two of you, sitting in a place like that. I felt it just then—this weird urge to put my arm around Starfire's waist and bring her a little closer, just to feel her warm weight beside me. Before I could decide whether to act or not, Starfire decided for me; with a contented sigh she inched over and leaned her head on my shoulder. I sat rigid, privately terrified that she had done such a thing, but a few moments later I relaxed and let her lean into me.

I'm ready to love, ready to shine

Ready to live this life of mine

"It is beautiful, is it not?" Starfire sighed at last. I swallowed, trying to scrap up the nerve for the words I wanted to say: "Not as beautiful as you."

Immediately I was mortified, wishing I could take them back; yeah, they were true, but they were so corny. She probably thought I was a total idiot now, completely hopeless…

Instead, she sat up and looked at me, moonlight reflected in her bright green eyes. A bashful smile stole over her face, and she blushed.

"Do you… do you really think so?"

I nodded emphatically, wondering how she could possibly doubt—she knew how beautiful she was, didn't she? How could she not? I took a deep breath before continuing; I felt like I was standing on the roof of a building, high above the world, about to jump. "Yeah, of course. You're… you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life. And it's not even all on the outside, it's…" Dang it, why hadn't I just shut up? Starfire tipped her head, confused. I tried to find the words for what I was trying to describe: "You're beautiful on the outside because you're beautiful on the inside. Does that make sense?"

Knowing Starfire, she was probably trying to envision what was so beautiful about blood vessels and organs, which was not what I was trying to say at all. "No…"

"Star… you're a wonderful person. You're sweet, and kind and caring and compassionate. You're always there for all of us when we need it. You're forgiving and honest and strong and brave…" Holy crap, why couldn't I stop talking? I just kept rambling on, shifting my gaze to the stars, the ocean, the city, the ground—anything to keep me from having to look at Starfire and the bewildered stare she must be giving me.

"Look, Star," I said finally, heaving a shaking breath. "Everything about you on the inside—everything that makes you you—is beautiful. And it shines through. You… you're amazing. I've never felt this way around anyone else before."

"And what way is that?" Her voice was soft. I still didn't quite have the courage to look at her.

"Like… like I could take on the worst villain we've ever faced and win. Like I could really be brave enough to do what I've always been afraid to do."

"What is it that you are afraid to do?" I turned my face to hers. She was facing me, her eyes wide, her face flushed, looking every bit as scared and unsure as I was, but somehow just as brave and certain as I wanted to feel. My heart leapt, and slowly we both smiled. I took another deep breath.

"This," I said, and we leaned in.

Ready to jump, ready to fly…

Something about Starfire scared me to death but gave me insurmountable courage at the same time. Right at that moment I was more terrified than I'd ever been before, but as her mouth met mine, I forgot all about that. Because right then I had jumped off that building. I was really, really flying—

…For the first time.