Poem told from Slade's point of view.
Glorious, glorious Sladin X
Title: Sixteen is too young
Author: Miss Criss Paranoia [AKA Heartacheannie on devart]
Rating: T for suggestive themes
Pairing: Sladin X
Warnings: Angst and sap that will rot your teeth
Disclaimer: I own Teen Titans and all rights associated with it. -gets dragged off by the police-
Red X: She doesn't, in case you were wondering.
When Robin is sixteen;
He won't know what is good for him
The thief will be swinging his hips and working his mouth straight out of a cell
And I, with all the patience of a tom cat, will watch them both, cursing their age and wondering if the taunts of pervert have some real merit.
When Red X is nineteen;
Robin will glare petulantly and ask why the elder boy is so cocky and flirtatious.
Red will simply grin and wiggle his hips, tucking away the diamonds neatly in his pants while Robin is dazed and confused
And I, as usual, will see the exchange and note how they are both growing up, one yielding to temptations, the other using his brain.
When Robin is eighteen;
He will have his first real kiss stolen by the boy who already stole his identity, his files and his attention
Red will no longer use flirting as a distraction for stealing, but use stealing as a distraction for flirting
And I, still watching the monitors, will frown deeply, wondering why this younger boy is stealing attention and kisses from my little bird, completely unaware of the truth
When Red is twenty-one;
Robin will instigate the kisses, stealing back whatever his little thief took, but only to prove to his ex team-mates that he isn't as in love with Red as he really is.
Red will no longer steal for fun, but now in necessity and the kisses he gets and the view he witnesses may be preferable but neither will pay his bills.
And I, starting to lose patience with this exchange, will pay Red a visit in the hope to get him to leave town but instead find something within the cocky boy I admire, and take him home so Robin can continue this exchange without Red getting killed in the process.
When my little bird is twenty;
He will smirk at the flustered thief as he hands over a wedding invitation detailing matrimony of MY bird and the little alien harlot
Red will come home confused an complaining and for the first time look at me with such hurt in his eyes, asking "Why?"
And I will know what he means, wondering myself why I am letting the bird fly free but come up with no answer. For the first time Red X will see Slade Wilson's face, and I will witness the face of Alex King.
When Alex is twenty-three;
Robin will have a child to the alien girl, a sweet little girl with red hair and blue eyes, so human in appearance
Red will still look at me sadly, trying to find out why I didn't stop it, knowing I loved-wanted-needed them both and with four words tear down my world "Her name is Addie."
And I...I will have no emotion but shock knowing that the-bird-who-was-once-mine wouldn't have forgotten about my wife, wouldn't have chosen the name in spite, knowing that Starfire is not the reason the little girl is named Addie. It will take me weeks to get over it, weeks to plan, weeks for Alex to look at me without sadness and instead understanding and a grin.
When Addie's father is twenty-two;
Robin will have more children, orange and dark haired Ryan and his twin, red-headed, pale skinned, green eyed Reno. Someone will notice the Final Fantasy reference. No-one will see that fake happy family picture the parents put forward, neither wanting this marriage to continue now that they have produced heirs.
Alex will come bounding into the apartment, yelling at the top of his lungs, too excited to make sense and only calms down when a beer and the threat of sleeping in his own bed are given to him. The harlot [who honestly is quite pleasant, except for her marrying the-boy-who-was-once-my-bird] and Robin have announced their divorce.
And I, after properly rewarding my thief, will look down at his sleeping form and smile, truly smile. I have my thief and soon, maybe, I may have another chance at my bird.
When the minx who warms my bed is twenty-five;
Robin will have found us together in bed and quickly stormed out, afraid of missed chances
Red X will look horrified and almost burst into tears, afraid that it might not be fixable
And I, to make the set complete, will also be afraid. Red is twenty-five, Robin is twenty-three, and I may age slowly but they don't and I know it's selfish but I so want to keep them young, don't want to see them die before me, don't want to witness another loved one's death. I love Alex and I will not bury him. Ever.
When Robin turns twenty-four;
He will have cracked the secret years ago, and perhaps no-one has noticed yet but I have noticed some nights the same look he had when he was merely nineteen, wondering if he has some weird beauty treatment.
Alex will grin when I mention it and say something dirty, wondering if perhaps sleeping with villains is the secret to immortality
And I will finally see Robin injured in a fight, the wound closing and healing far too quickly. I will gaze at Red's still youthful face, frowning. News reports from three years ago clouding my mind, "We have the inside scoop on where Robin has really been for these three months. Is our favourite hero suffereing from an addiction?" It made no sense to me at the time and even less now, but Red disappeared the month after Robin did. I will narrow my eyes and make my suspicions known.
When the thief who hogs most of the blanket [which is fine since I have Robin to keep me warm] should turn 27;
Richard will tell me the truth, about the scientists, about finding flaws in the serum I was injected with, about how he helped to perfect it years ago [or at least remake it safely.] He will tell me why he looks like he is only twenty-one, why Red still looks twenty-three.
Alex will listen to me scream and lecture about the dangers, about the problems with this stupid plan they created, about how it feels to watch loved one's die. He will listen to me ask, defeated, if he really thinks that it was worth it. And a pair of lips on either side of my face will be the response from both of them, hands soothing, telling me without words that it bwas/b worth it, that they wanted to be with a temper-mental old veteran like me.
And I...I will have found happiness.
AN: The Sap! It burns!
R&R