La-de-da… I have no idea if anyone is reading this but I'll keep writing because BB and Robin deserve more anthems to their obvious made-for-each-otherness and if I don't write 'em down, they will surely invade my brain and drive me up a wall. Let me just say this: Greg Cipes, the voice of BB, is so freakin hot. Sigh what a man.

Viva

Robin's POV

It's quiet except for the sound of rapid breathing and the thwack of his fists hitting the punching bag that hangs in the corner. I know without even looking at him that his hair is pushed back from his face though every few punches, it flops in front of his eyes. The thwacking stops and he's muttering to himself, thinking I can t hear him since earbuds are in place while I do pushups a few feet away. He has no idea that no music is on, just as he has no idea that I'm in love with him. I manage 2 more reps, my arms burning like hell.

"Let's go," I raise my voice a little, watching him wrap his long arms around the black punching bag, stilling its swaying. The look in his eyes strictly says 'don't fuck with me' and I bite my lip against a sigh. His chest is bare, slightly defined muscles rippling, contracting and relaxing with every breath as he lets go of the bag and walks over to me. A light sheen of sweat covers his skin and my eyes wander quickly, soaking this up for future use—his pointy ears, full lips, intense eyes and impossibly long eyelashes. I'm thankful for his growth spurts, for the fact that he's not wearing his suit today—only those white basketball shorts that look too delicous against his skin. He's barefoot as usual, a simply braided black anklet encircling his left ankle. Beast Boy even smells amazing, like life, like young athletic male, like youth in all its glory.

Man, I have it bad for him.

He won't look me in the eye—which is expected. He's always hated sparring, especially with me. It's probably because I'm so weak, so predictable, though he always says it's because he's never really been comfortable with blatant violence to another person. He usually picks Raven when I won't accept his excuses anymore; Raven with her quiet composure and undeniable rage. He probably has a crush on her. Not like I blame him, I mean, she's gorgeous, long legs, great curves, she's smart, and not nearly as bossy as I am, I bet she likes him too, his loud laugh—she's probably had him in ways that I'll only ever dream of … Fuck.

Now I'm jealous?

He clears his throat and flashes me a quick smile, that fang barely brushing his bottom lip—how I want to run my tongue over it, feel its sharpness. I die a little inside when he unconciously runs his tongue over his bottom lip, not knowing that the single gesture turns me on like nothing else…

I need to get out of this room.

"Beast Boy? Why don't we spar later, I think we both deserve a break." He looked up at me, confused. I've always been the one to live by the words 'a champion always gets up, even when he can't' but he was doing things to me that I didn't want to have to explain. I turn and walk out the door, feeling my shorts grow uncomfortably tighter.

--------------*

The day passes slowly for me, everyone's out running errands and the like, with the exception of Raven. She never goes anywhere really, but she's probably locked in her room like ususal. I wander through the Tower, wishing that someone would come back soon. It's much too quiet, my footsteps sound like explosions against the tile of the hallway. The living room looks forlorn and depressing without a green elf-eared boy lounging on it, his feet on the armrest even though I always half-heartedly tell him not to do that.

The kitchen is a mess. Well, probably not to a regular person, but to Dick Grayson, 'Boy Wonder,' who'd been trained by the Batman that unorganization will always be a hero's downfall, there will always be work to do. I turn on the faucet, a few squirts of dishsoap and a washrag in hand before I start scrubbing.

Times like these make me grateful for my isolated 'childhood', if you'd even call it that. I learned to make do, singing nonsense songs in my head whenever it was too dangerous to make noise, but too boring to just sit in the dark. The water really is 'as hot as I can stand' which is something my Home Ec teacher would be proud of. I think as I scrub the marble counters, the suds like white ocean foam, about it all. About Beast Boy, the only one I've ever loved, about my music, the only place I find comfort, about my hand, where I search for satisfaction but come back, eternally empty, though sticky. I hear the front door woosh open and it jolts me from my wallowing.

"Friend Robin? We have brought nourishment for the evening meal!" Starfire is so excited about this, I can't help but let a small smile creep out. Cyborg follws her, laden with bags full of containers that smell absolutely delicious. Beast Boy brings up the rear, a paper bag clenched in his slender hand. He slips silently to his room.

"Chinese food! Yes!" Cyborg is opening cartons of rice and noodles, chopsticks flying as he stuffs food into his mouth. Beast Boy returns, Raven at his side. I swallow the jealousy that burns in my throat when I see her whisper something to him. He blushes and shrugs, grabbing a carton of rice and sitting next to me on the counter. I try in vain to keep my face from going up in flames when his leg touches mine. Unfortunately, Starfire notiices my sudden blush.

"Oh, friend Robin! Are you hurt?" I shake my head but she continues anyway. "Your cheeks have become most red and hot, I can feel the heat from here. Do we need to have another Rite of Ganesha?" A unanimous "NO" rings out. The Rite of Ganesha is rumored to involve stripping the afflicted party and flogging them with corded rope. As found out at the Christmas party last year, when drunk, Starfire will spout information about her customs that we all wish she had kept to herself.

Unless I'm mistaken, Raven smirks in her chair. Dainty bites of lo mein disappear between her pale lips. Damn her for being so beautiful. No wonder Beast Boy loves her. My laser-like glare towards her consumes all of my energy, taking my blush from my cheeks.

"You gonna eat that?" Beast Boy leans over and whispers in my ear, his breath washing over my cheek. I shake my head though I'm still hungry, offering him my spring roll and fried rice. He whispers his thanks before a small smile shows the small dimple in his right cheek. I want to run my thumb over it so badly, I slide off the counter and head towards my room. I have too much on my mind. I barely register the fact that he calls after me, and keeps on calling even when my doors slide shut.

--------------*

I wake up, sickened with myself. My pajama bottoms are sticky and my head feels full of cotton balls. Groggily, I shut my alarm off, pulling open dresser drawers and heading to the bathroom clean clothes in hand. The spray is cold on my skin, though some part of me knows it's actually warm. My hand finds the knob again, turning the hot water up and steam rushes from the showerhead, filling the bathroom. I'm vaguely aware that it scorches my skin but I leave it like that, a bar of soap in one hand, scrub brush in the other. I scrub myself raw, my skin is red already from the boiling water but the sensation is so painful it almost feels good.

How sick is this. I think to myself, I get off on scrubbing myself in scalding hot water. No way anyone could love the mess I am, expecially not him. But at least I'm clean. I let the water run over my head and my scalp is in so much pain. I gasp-scream at the sfeeling of being almost boiled alive. I shut the shower off and my black hair falls in front of my hair, dripping dwon to the shower floor. I wrap a towel around me and open the bathroom door so the steam can rush out, all the while ignoring the fact that warm tears are sliding down my cheeks and that my face feels stretched and tight from the shower.

Beast Boy? If it's possible in any way, could you please stop torturing me?