Outtakes

A/N: These snippets of dialogue were from the old days - okay, last year - when everything was okay, and we were laughing incessantly at the human language (and each other's reactions). When I read some of the stuff I recorded, I laugh, then I cry. Some things change, and they change in a depressing way. And, yes, I extended most of them, so that they make more sense in context.

A/N 2: These are going to be limited in number, because I don't have that many pieces of conversation to extend, and those carefree days of humour are over.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans, the characters of Teen Titans, or even the dialogue that is portrayed here. Although I had some hand in creating some of it.

Long author's note done. For now. Now. Read.

'Remote Control'

"So, whaddya wanna watch?"

Beast Boy plunked himself down on the couch, looking up at the wall-covering screen.

"What's on?"

Cyborg scrambled for the remote control, turning on the large screen. Flicking through mostly boring channels (ooh, video game reviews!), Cyborg and Beast Boy settled back to channel surf.

It really was too bad they couldn't decide on any particular channel.

After a brief tussle ("A meat channel?! How could you sign us up to that, Cy?!") over the remote, Beast Boy was flicking through the channels from behind and under the couch.

They were nearing channel five hundred when Cyborg got the faintest glimmer of a joke within his brain.

"Hey, grass stain, I got a joke that's better than yours."

Beast Boy popped out from under the sofa, seeming to almost sinuously flow forwards, up and backwards to rest himself on the cushioned seat and lie back. Still clutching tightly onto the remote, green ears pinned back, almost snarling at Cy.

"Peace, man. You wanna hear the joke or not?"

Beast Boy's ears flicked up once in acknowledgement, still holding the remote close, although he had paused in flicking channels.

"What do the initials of remote control and a wall have in common?"

Beast Boy thought deeply. 'Remote control'...are see... arsy? Arse? And a wall? Uh...

Some flicker of that inner concentration must have struck a gear within Cyborg, because his chuckle suddenly filled the room.

"You don't get it, BB?"

Beast Boy shook his head, his grip loosening on the remote in his hands, which Cyborg promptly noted. Arse? Wall?

Taking a deep breath, Cyborg grinned before shouting out his hard-figured answer: "They both have cracks!"

He curled over laughing, not noticing Beast Boy looking at him with a large sweatdrop rolling down his forehead.

'Touch The Pole'

"Beast Boy, why do you have a pole sticking up in the middle of your room?"

"It's a good luck pole, like a tribal totem, almost. Only unlike tribal totems, which sometimes have totem animals on it, I have a long steel pole, cause I can be all my totem animals, which kinda defeats the purpose of them leading me out on dream quests, and..."

"Take a pause for breath, will you? The pole's not going to go anywhere."

"But you are!" Pleading eyes, kitten/puppy-wide. Moistening tears gathering in a corner of an eye.

Take a deep breath. "No, I'm not. Everyone else is out shopping, and I have nothing else to do." Curiosity getting the better of her, she asks, "So, what do you do with the pole?"

Cringing, the innuendo seems to have gone unnoticed.

He's serious now, something in his posture gone rigid, the very picture of discipline and lecture, if not for the big grin still present on his face.

"Like all good luck poles, you have to be one with the pole. You have to touch it, smell it, kiss it, lick it, be it."

"Like this." Caresses and licks later, he beckons to her. "Your turn."

She's backing away. "No way, Gar, you're not making me do this!"

"Please? It's good luck!"

She could never resist those eyes.

"Remind me what I'm supposed to do again?"

"Touch the pole." Eyes twitching even while closed, she reaches out and touches the pole. It's warm, surprisingly, smooth and yet rough to her fingers.

"Smell the pole." Trying to shoot him a glare from behind closed lids (she doesn't want to see his triumphant grin), Raven presses her nose forward, to draw in a scent that smells of steel, and some exotic African musk.

"Kiss the pole." Feeling ridiculous, she brushes her lips against the column, feeling the same silk-like yet coarse texture on her lips, hearing the harsh indrawn gasp as he takes in the sight.

"Lick the pole." Though an even tone, she can still feel his delight in making her uncomfortable, and she rebels against it, darting her tongue out against the pillar stuck in the exact middle of Beast Boy's room. To her surprise, it's faintly spicy, with a hint of oil and just plain steel. It's also a little sticky, which is, frankly, disgusting. A quick dart, and she's done.

Looking at him with her eyes closed, she says, "What next?"

He's breathing quickly. "Be the pole."

That's the easiest of all. She pictures herself being the pole, cool but warm, coarse but smooth, spicy with a hint of oil and steel, and she stands still, not wondering.

She can feel his gaze on her.

"That's good luck, for sure." He sounds grave, and she opens her eyes to meet his unwonted serious expression, mouth lopsidedly twitching.

"Now you have to do it once more, to cement the good luck."

She gazes at him flatly. "I'm not doing this again."

All the same, she's doing exactly the same thing later.

And she's finding she enjoys it. Strange and odd as it is, she enjoys it.

"Three times' the charm!"

"I'm not..." She does it anyway, finds it comforting.

"C'mon Rae, you'll have good luck for the rest of the week!"

"No." Trying to pull out of it, but she's being drawn back in. The tall cylindrical pole tastes like homecoming, oddly.

"For me?"

"Why do I even..." As Beast Boy looks at her closely, and smiles; they've been in there for a while, judging by how the light's quietened and indigoed - "No, no, no, no, no, and finally, no!" But her protests are weak, lacking from its usual sarcasm, and it's with no difficulty that he pushes her back towards the good luck pole.

The Titans alarm klaxons through the corridors and into Beast Boy's room, jarring Raven out of a pleasant trance, sent there by a faint African musk and spices. A smile graces its way onto her face. "Thanks for the experience. I... liked it."

"You know where that pole's been, right?" He looks at her, eyes wide as his mind twists its way towards inexorable logic.

"I gotta go!" He springs out of his door, changing into greyhound and sprinting towards the main room, leaving a little slobber behind.

It is that slobber, disgusting in itself, that brings Raven to a conclusion.

If Beast Boy knew what to do with his good luck pole, he was undoubtedly doing it himself. And if he was, then what she'd been enjoying smelling (and touching, and tasting, and kissing) was...

"Ohh..." Deflating exhaled breath.

Him.