A/N: No time for excuses because they are all the same. School. blah blah. School. blah blah. School. Here is my submission to the Fairy Tale Challenge on the YJ Forums.

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice or any other DC Comics related universe and never will. Also, I am not German, and I do not own the works of Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm.

Prompt: Rumpelstiltskin
Female: Hawkgirl
Male: Red Tornado

She found it on a mission, Poor thing, and felt no harm in retrieving it. The leather had been torn on the sides, the spine had been damaged somewhat, but overall, it endured the worst. There was no harm in taking it with her, she felt that too. However, in spite of her stance on the retrieving and claiming it as her own, she didn't allow herself to openly admit what she had done. Thus, aloofness and silence circled her in a thick cloud; she enjoyed the silence of her bedroom, the tranquility it provided, a the world opened to her in one, small book. Bits of the spine had been repaired, but it was carefully positioned on her lap, the coolness of it tickled her bare legs. Gingerly, her fingers examined the pages and took delight in the worn but comfortable touch.

Under and between her fingers the pages were rough and worn. They felt to graze the skin of her fingers as she rubbed against them. She imagined that the book had contained youth and strength, that it had been loved and cherish before she discovered it, but all of that was gone now. Believing that made her conscience wane a bit; she didn't care, not really, and that was selfish of her. A person had loved the book enough to preserve it, but that person was no longer present. Nothing could be done about that.

For a brief moment, Hawkgirl felt a singe of regret for taking the book.

It's not as if anyone was going to read it, she thought sadly, not anymore that is.

Without her mask on, her naked eyes read the words that were foreign to English speakers, and her nails danced across the page. She cherished her ability to learn a second or third language with ease, and softly, quietly she read the words aloud.

"There was once upon a time a poor miller who had a very beautiful daughter..."

It was the sort of quiet that wasn't threatening of nerve wracking. It was the sort of quiet that didn't make him concern or tense with apprehension. It was the sort of quiet that was gentle and calm. The sort of quiet that brought his senses and thoughts to a relaxed disposition, and it helped while he smashed his fingers on the buttons below them. The displays on the whitish blue screen kept him occupied until his attention was, not quite, disturbed by the loud sliding of the door and the quick footsteps of an unknown intruder entering his domain.

"It appears," she said in spiked resignation, "that privacy has been taken advantage of." The humor in her voice didn't go undetected, but it wasn't enough to pull him away from his work. "I plan to do just that when I get the chance."

"If you do," he replied without turning back, "that's a luxury we can barely afford."

She chuckled and approached him, taking a seat beside him, "I didn't know you arrived. What are you working on?"

"Batman required my assistance on The Watchtower," he explained smoothly, "due to the younger generation getting a short reprieve on their duties today, I was able to work on my duties here, on The Tower."

She nodded, understanding his point. But she wasn't quite sure if she liked it; after all, the area where he was currently working at was where she usually read to herself when her room was unavailable. She sat in the chair, and behind her mask, her eyes glanced at him curiously. Questions rose without notice, and she felt her lips parting, but she closed quickly before the words could ease their way out of her mouth. Somehow, her companion noticed this as well, but he scuttled the reproachful question in his head away as well. His refusal to react to her expression brought his attention to the object she was carrying in her arms; it sat idly on her lap, but her arm was pressed tightly around it.

While he didn't look at her, not really, she felt his gaze move to her, and she felt her cheeks rise from embarrassment. Luckily, it was hidden by the fabric of her mask.

"You're wondering what this is?" She laughed softly and pulled the object into the light, "I found it in Germany, about three missions ago." His sight wasn't focused on her, but she knew his hearing was, and she continued. "It was just lying in the mud, and I couldn't help it. Can't leave a good book abandoned."

At that, he turned his head. He inspected the book, and he inspected the semi proud expression on her face. He returned his focus on the book, and his head went up and it went down. "It is old," he stated flatly, "and it is worn." He awaited for her response, and he hid the surprise that jolted at him when she began to laugh. She laughed and laughed, and it echoed in the room. If it were any louder than it was, he was more than positive that it would have reached further than the halls. Her laughter turned into chuckles, and her chuckled simmered into humorous sighs.

"Yes," she breathed an airy laugh, and sucked in the air that had left her body through her laughing, "it is worn, and it is old. Thank you Captain Obvious."

"Is that the reason why you reread it?" He fingers eased on their smashing, but he remained glued to the screen, "What is the plot of the story?"

"It is an old story, written by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm." She waved her hands as she summarized the tale, "It's about an old miller's daughter. The miller lied and said that his daughter could spin straw into gold. The king heard about this and ordered the girl to spin thread into gold for three nights or be executed."

He waited for the rest of the summary, but she sat there silently, her eyes unmoved. "What happens after that," he asked, "does the miller's daughter suffer for her father's crime?"

She shrugged, and a smirk appeared on her face. "Maybe, maybe not. There's a lot of sources to the book, you can always read it online." She drummed her fingers on the cover of the book, "When you do read it, please come and get me. It's a short story but a terribly good one. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

He stared at her, for the first time since she arrived, and Red Tornado believed her.

About the time when she was ready to forward the conversation, the whitish blue on the screen changed, and the displays vanished with it.

Hawkgirl are you there? The familiar face of Superman appeared on screen. You're needed in Room 64B.

She sighed and smiled, "It appears, that my time is up." She stood to her full height and stared down at him, "I'm sure you'll like it, even love it, when you get your chance."

He felt the warmth of her hand when she patted him on the back. One last smile was what he received as a goodbye before she departed the room. The loud sliding door slammed together, and the sound vibrated on the walls of the room. Outside the door, a rhyme reached his ears, and if his robotic mask was willing, he would've smiled.

"To-morrow I brew, to-day I bake,
And then child away I'll take;
For little deems my royal dame
That Rumpelstiltskin is my name!"

There was no denying it. His interests were peaked; he intended to read that story.

A/N: In "Rumpelstiltskin" my favorite part is the part when he reveals his name. I'm taking a course in school, writing course, where the main objective is to read traditional fairy tales and other folklore, analyze, form a thesis, and write an argumentative/analytical paper on it. It is not an easy course; currently, I'm working on "The Little Mermaid". This challenge was definitely a challenge, and I would appreciate reviews. I appreciate all kinds of feedback: alerts and favorites, but reviews do tell me what I've done wrong in a story or what I haven't done wrong, both really.

Thank you to those who've decided to read...this...tried to make into a not romance...did it work out well?

Have a great weekend and a wonderful future week!