Note: I'm trying a new style by not explicitly stating Raven's name. Let's see how it works out.

Note: Story inspired by a song. Cookies to anyone who can guess it correctly. - Skeeterpillar most definitely wins. Please proceed to the nearest Mrs. Field's for your cookie. :)

Good Morning

I normally hated mornings. Even when I was a teenager, and far before that I'm sure, I'd always wake up after noon if left undisturbed. But lately, I've been catching myself waking up before the light has had a chance to grace the window. Quite an abrupt change in morning procedure…

The first time we slept together it was after an exceptionally heated argument. Literally heated. It was chaos in the tower and a wayward star bolt into the oven, however accidental, was an extremely how should I say... potent way to get our attention. I replayed the argument over and over in my mind, wondering what happened. It's a human thing. We tend to reminisce on the past, regrettably far too often. I was staring into the mirror watching myself recite the lines I would say to her. "I'm sorry I yelled." That didn't seem like enough. "I didn't mean it, I was angry." That sounded too girly. "Let's just forget it." Now I was sweeping it under the rug.

Damn, why did women have to be so complicated? I was probably making it harder than it seemed, any of those lines would have worked, she was a fucking empath—words meant little to her when it came to what you truly felt. Damning all that was good in the world, I decided to go with one of my many other creative—yet ingenious—methods of apology: brute force. I morphed into a snake, slithered under her door, morphed back and caught her in a bear hug. I endured the screaming, the threats, the insults, because I wasn't letting go until she had forgiven me. We tumbled on her bed, still in full uniform, and exhausted, succumbed to darkness. We didn't do anything but sleep.

That's when it started.

Teddy bears weren't usually this big. Nor did they exude heat on their own, or breathe. By the time I had remembered what had happened, the initial shock had worn off. She didn't own a clock, or she did but it was one of those damn analog ones that didn't glow in the dark, so I had no idea what time it was. But the room was still pitch black, so if I had to guess I'd go with midnight. My arms were still wrapped around her waist as if I still had her in my bear hug. She was turned away from me and the only thing I could see was the blurry outline of the soft rise and fall of a body and the hazy mass of violet hair. A part of me screamed, "This is a once in a lifetime chance! Time to put master prank number one into action!" But for some reason, I didn't feel like ruining this moment. When I confess this to her one night many years later, grateful for the veil of darkness to hide my burning cheeks, she would chuckle and tell me that was when I finally started to grow up.

The bed shifts. She rolls over. Green eyes meet violet. The "good morning" I had prepared gets caught in my throat as I take in her slightly disheveled hair and sleepy look on her face that would have put my Kitty-face to shame.

"What time is it?" I manage to croak out.

She lets out the cutest little yawn. "Almost six forty." As if on cue the light from the window surges as the sun begins its rise.

We carry on as if we always slept in the same bed and this wasn't nearly as awkward as I was feeling. She takes a quick shower, puts on a fresh uniform and wades downstairs for a cup of tea. I lie in her bed trying to prevent the heat she's left behind from leaving me. The tower wakes up one by one, and I enter the kitchen as noon rolls around. Amidst the stack of pancakes and squabbling between Robin and Cyborg, no one notices me walk out of a room that's not mine.

There is no cuddling, there is no kissing, although there are arguments. Small ones. Her trademark sarcasm, my horrible jokes, everything ran smoothly just as it did before.

When it's daytime she belongs to the team.

The hotel is a nice one. With the team's bank account, it's no surprise we could afford the best of the best. It was only for a couple of nights, only until the tower could be repaired from the previous battle. The boys didn't want to sleep within two feet of each other. ("We have our own room in the tower. I'm not sleeping in the same bed with another dude, hell no!") The girls had no problem with it, well Starfire pleaded not to be left alone at night ("A perfect opportunity for the bonding of the girls!") and so goaded the empath into sharing a room.

This time she comes to me. It's well into the night. The door's locked, but this doesn't bother her as she ghosts right through it. I'm already asleep but I wake up as I feel the mattress sag to one side. I regard her form slipping under the covers through drowsy eyes, and as soon as my groggy brain registers her as Not an enemy, Do not attack I fall right back to sleep.

I roll to my right my arms adjusting themselves to accommodate both of us. I blink several times to wake myself up. The room is still dark, the only source of light slipping through the space between the hallway and floor. I silently watch the slumbering girl in my arms. Sometime in the night I must have pulled her to my chest. I lay there wondering if she always wore over sized t-shirts to bed and wondering how often these nighttime excursions would last so I could get an answer to my question.

The sun hits the window. The drapes are pulled back, so the room is instantly filled with a soft glow.

I feel her body shift, I know she's awake. "You don't like sleeping with Starfire?"

She turns and gives me a lopsided early-morning smile. "I tried. She kicked me off the bed."

With the knowledge I knew now, if I could travel back in time I'd tell my teenage self her early morning smiles were much easier to earn.

Times were getting rough. The adults were passing on the torch to the younger generation. Inexperienced and uncoordinated, they had their share of stumbles. Declining to join Nightwing in his endeavors, I traveled the world mapping out unexplored land and cataloging new species. The life I was slowly carving out for myself was exciting and filled with a different type of satisfaction that the Titans couldn't fulfill. But I missed the warmth that would await me when I woke up. Even a few years alone couldn't erase the habit that I had formed with a certain empath, I hadn't missed breakfast in a long while now.

When we went our separate ways I thought it was goodbye. I had half-expected her to turn around right on the spot and announce she would be spending the rest of her life with me—the nights we'd spent together were few, but we had built up something beautiful. It was a fantasy, I know. Real life doesn't follow plot from a Hollywood movie. I should have prepared for her to leave. She wasn't the type of girl to be held down by a guy like me. I wanted to explore the world as much as she did, I only wished she'd want to explore it with me. So we went our separate ways. And I haven't seen her since.

There had been a few women in between. A fellow adventurer and scientist, a waitress in Europe, and a Red Cross nurse in Africa. The first one I thought was true love, she was everything I was looking for. I realized I was only attracted to her through sheer amount of time we spent together—through work. I was saved from the dwindling relationship by her old flame sweeping her off her feet. When she came to me to tell me the inevitable, I let her go with good wishes. The second was everything I didn't want, I was looking for comfort not love. It ended abruptly when I told her I was flying to Africa for an uncertain amount of time. And the third woman... By the time I figured out I was still pining for a particular individual, I knew it was my responsibility to break it off before she got hurt. I guess nurses were used to dealing with broken hearts—or at least this one did.

Looking up at the night sky through the jungle canopy, I remembered the countless times I wandered up to the Titan's roof knowing she'd be there. She liked to look at the stars. I remembered that. I wondered if she was still out there. What she was doing? Living in an area of Africa that had been devoid of civilization for decades left one with little knowledge of the outside world. Imagining the many things she must be doing at this moment kept my nights restless and uncomfortable.

During those years she belonged to my dreams.

It was by chance, but I liked to call it destiny. My flight to Asia had been canceled, and I was stranded in the States for a few more days until they could procure a new plane. To occupy myself I decided to sit-in on a lecture at the nearby university. Biology. The professor was supposed to be one of the leading figures in new science. I was eager to meet him. As I entered the classroom I immediately regretted it—the students were taking a test. That meant no lecture. Damn. First my flight, and now my only source of entertainment. Disappointed, I strolled around the campus more out of boredom than anything, when I stumbled upon an open door, the students clearly seen sitting silently in their seats. I didn't even know what subject it was but I figured I'd sit-in on this one.

I don't think I ever truly left.

She was teaching cultural anthropology. I had missed the first few minutes of the lecture. Actually I think I missed all of it—I was still in partial shock of finding her here. The one thing missing in my life was standing a few hundred seats in front of me, and I only hoped she was missing me too.

The lecture ended and the students filed out as I approached the projector emitting images on the wall. "Hey, professor."

She straightened the papers she was holding before facing me. "Yes, what can I help you w—"

I guess the realization must have hit her, because she didn't say anything after that. I continued to stare at her too—the large smile on my face showed off my elongated canines. She looked every bit the part of a teacher. A professional plain skirt and blouse that wasn't too fancy or revealing. I wondered what she thought of me dressed in my jungle clothes. I must have looked something akin to Indiana Jones.

"Hi." I said weakly.

"Hi." She answered back just as weak.

I suddenly became very aware of my surroundings. "I'm sorry, are you busy? Do you have another class after this?"

She regained her composure as mine continued to slip away. "No that was the last one. I need to run some errands, so if you don't mind, how about you wait for me outside my office and we'll catch up over lunch?"

I nodded dumbly. My mind still processing her first sentence. "Yeah, sure, whatever's good for you."

With a curt nod, she stuffed her papers into a suitcase and walked briskly out the classroom. I was still staring at the bit of floor space she had been standing on when her voice echoed throughout the room. "And don't lean on my projector, it's old."

I canceled my flight to Asia.

The clock read seven fifteen. The same time I had woken up yesterday. Her head was resting on my arm using it as a makeshift pillow. I'm sure the circulation was long gone but I didn't care. Her hair tickled my bare chest, it was noticeably longer than when we were teenagers, a few inches past her shoulders now. The loose t-shirt she wearing had rose up during the night and was now exposing half her stomach to the room. I forced my desires to back down and left what little time I had before sunrise to relax in comfort thanking my lucky stars I was where I was.

The first few dates were bumpy. There were many years' worth of memories and experiences to divulge, and we both had changed. I was no longer the boy who told horrible jokes and pulled pranks on unsuspecting girls because I thought she was cute. She was no longer the brooding empath distanced from society by her strange ways. I had to mentally chastise myself in some instances, because I couldn't treat her like the girl she once was. We still had that burning flame, it just had to spark.

My eyes wandered over to my pile of clothes hanging off a chair ready to drop and opposite the room, the meticulously clean closet that housed all of her outfits. For the first few weeks I lived in a hotel close to the school, with a bit more searching I found an apartment close to hers. A couple months littered with late night sleepovers and bad excuses and I had moved into her apartment.

"Good morning."

I dragged myself out of my thoughts. "Good morning to you too."

"How long are you going to stare at that pile of clothes before it begins to take up a life of its own?"

I chuckled, giving her a light kiss. "Until you get up for work."

The sun's rays creeped through the window putting the room in an orange glow. "Why don't you make me some tea?"

"I'll make you some tea if you make me a tofu sandwich."

"You're a horrible gentleman," her slight smile betrayed the tone of her voice. She rolled off the bed to get her day started, but not before I pulled her back in for another good morning kiss. I let my eyelids droop a bit and before I knew it, she was kissing me goodbye informing me she was off to work.

When it's daytime she belongs to her students.

Crime fighting was in our blood it seemed. Though we had both given it up that day in the tower, the adrenaline rush that came with the danger just wasn't something that could be replaced with teaching and cataloging. It happened one day, a bank robbery, a rare occurrence in these parts, the crime level here was low. It was her idea—not mine. The security cameras had been damaged by the crooks, the SWAT teams were still on their way, it would take them hours to sort through the red tape and innocent lives would be put in danger. On the other hand, she could teleport us in, and I could take out the bad guys within minutes, and we could teleport out before anyone knew. It was simple, it was dangerous, but it was exhilarating.

We stood outside an electronics store a few hours later, watching the local news channel's coverage on the police chief pondering the puzzling spectacle, laughing to ourselves. She pulled me around as we perused the different shops, her womanly eye picking out a few new shirts for me and some more professional outfits for her. A walk in the local park. A trip to the theater for a show. It was almost like we were back on our first date.

By the time we made it back home I was exhausted. Our small house was modest, but provided us with everything we needed. Neither of us wanted a big mansion on the hill, I suppose our time in the tower cured us of that.

"Are you up to making spaghetti?"

I plopped down on the sofa switching on the television. "I'll make the spaghetti if you get more sauce."

She opened the cupboard, peering around for a jar. "We ran out?"

The noodles had followed us from the sofa to the bedroom. After a couple hours snuggling on the sofa I let my desires take over and tricked her into following me into the bed. I'm sure she knew where this was headed, she had that predatory gleam in her eyes. At six fifty five in the morning the remnants of now cold spaghetti were sitting in their bowls at the foot of the bed. Our bodies were too tangled up in the sheets to care. I trailed light kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. She shivered at my touch.

I rolled on top of her as she opened her eyes. "Want to make me breakfast?"

"I don't get a good morning first?"

"Good morning." I threw in a good morning kiss too. "Now will you make me breakfast?" I asked, smile broadening.

She smiled at me, the kind of smile she gave to one of her unruly students. Which meant punishment was soon headed their way. "I'll make you breakfast if you—" I silenced her with another kiss, this one filled with need. I knew exactly what she wanted.

The morning was filled with passion.

I stopped adventuring. Leave the hard work for the young ones. I was getting old, I wasn't going to hit the bucket anytime soon, but I was more than ready to retire. A couple of bestselling books in my name and a legacy of adventuring unexplored areas was enough to keep me satisfied. My time was filled with trying to spend as much time as I could with her now that I didn't have any more flights to catch or interns to teach. She continued working at the university, but only sporadically. She was the most sought after expert on cultural anthropology—earthly cultures as well as those not of this planet. Her lectures filled auditoriums to the very last seat and I was extremely proud of her. I always knew she'd do something with that intelligence of hers. It was her turn to travel the country, speaking in front of large audiences at various establishments.

But between jobs, we had nothing to do. I took up a volunteer job at the local zoo. After years of watching species at a distance through the vast plains or dense jungles, it was a nice change of pace to be able to see the animals up close. I enjoyed the job, the wonderfully happy children that passed through every day demanding answers to their insatiable questions. The staff was pleasant and the animals amiable, the kids were just an added perk.

After weeks of debating it, she took up writing a textbook for future students. She and a few of her fellow colleagues would get together to work on the massive project. It took a lot of time away from our relationship, but I didn't mind it so much as long as I knew she was doing something she loved. Some days she would be gone all morning, while others, she would pop in just to say, "Hi" and grab a sandwich. The book was starting to slowly come together, and I waited for the day her name would be forever immortalized on the cover.

When it's daytime she belongs to her book.

Her hands lazily run through my graying hair. She used to tease me about every gray hair she caught sprouting up on my head, but now they were all gray. I grabbed her searching fingers and kissed each one of them softly. Tomorrow we would have to start moving out and moving in to a retirement home. I was going to miss this tiny house we spent so many memories in. The clock reads six thirty.

"I love you." I murmur into her hair. It still smells the same as it did eighty years ago—something uniquely her that I couldn't get enough of.

"Love you too." She whispers back burying her head into my chest.

I hold her there for a while then. "Do you think all the other old people will like us?"

She laughs, but the sound is muffled by the comforter. "I don't know about you, but they'll love me."

I kiss the crown of her head. "They'll never love you more than I do."

The light is spreading through the window now, the birds are letting out their morning chirps. Neither one of us moves. Then she softly agrees. "That is true."

She may make more old friends than I ever will and win every bingo game. Her colleagues may come to chat and whisk her away for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, or all three. Old students that have now grown up will come knocking, thanking her for her guidance and wisdom and tell her all about their new discoveries in the field. She may be called away to give a rare lecture in another state. The precious time we have left together could be spent apart.

But until the morning sun, she's mine.

All mine.