Notes: Set some time in the not-too-distant future, after the Titans East have been together for a while.
Rating: T, I think. There may be some hinting at more adult stuff, but we're still in safe territory.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Spoilers: "Titans East 1 & 2"
For Scribbler. Happy Belated Birthday, Babs. :)
A Break in the Routine
© 2007, By: Ash Carroll (a.k.a. ShadowDiva)
She hovers in front of the large picture window with her hands curled around a mug of hot coffee. Breathing in the aroma, she looks out at the skyline of Steel City, peeking through the early morning cloud cover as the dawn light reflects off the metal buildings.
This is her me time; the few moments to herself she manages to steal before she has to face her team and be The Leader. She revels in the time alone, but she knows it won't last.
It's their morning routine.
He's always the first one down after her - swaggering in freshly showered and primped - to pour the last of the coffee she brewed for herself into his mug with a flippant remark and that damn self-assured smirk that she hates. The one that makes her mouth dry and her insides flutter like she swallowed her wings.
It shouldn't affect her at all.
But it does.
And that's as much as she lets herself admit, because acknowledging why means trying to make sense of the tangled mess that defines their relationship - whatever it is - and their lives are complicated enough without adding new steps to the dance they've been doing since Titans East was formed. She knows the day will come - and if she's honest with herself it might even be fast approaching - when the music will stop and the dance will end and they'll have to figure out what they are, but for right now, a smirk is just a smirk and it doesn't have to mean anything they don't want it to.
Which is good, she thinks, because most mornings she can't decide whether she wants to kiss it off him or wipe it off his face with her fist; so far she hasn't done either.
He enters on cue - with perfect hair; the whole of him smelling like Irish Spring from his shower - and pours the last of her coffee into his mug. He hasn't put his mask on yet and his eyes spark with mischief as he meets hers.
"What, no breakfast? Forget how I like my eggs already?"
"Hardly," she replies, deadpan, canting her hips to the side and planting a hand on one. "Do I look like your personal maid?"
His voice is deeper than she's used to hearing, and his eyes darken just slightly as he gives her the once over. "Is that an offer?"
Her insides flutter in time with her wings - beating faster than they ever have - and she thinks maybe it might be time to add a few steps to this dance after all as he gives her that damn smirk and she debates her options.
Kiss it off him, or wipe it off his face with her fist.
He's not expecting either.
Maybe this morning she'll do both.