Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans. I searched for Robin's spiky head in my Christmas stocking last year, but all I got was a stupid video game.
Sorry about the long delay. I've been… uh, practicing violin for my school orchestra concert. Yeah, I'm an orchestra dork and proud of it!
Many thanks to my co-writer and co-typist, my sister, Aurora812! But really, isn't this more about me? (Gets hit in the head with a shoe.)
Chapter 4
As Robin left Cyborg's room, his leadership instincts told him to check up on his other friends. He decided to see Raven first, since Beast Boy would most likely take advantage of the illness and force Robin to be his lackey.
"Eww, I am so not washing his underwear for him," Robin thought.
He knocked on Raven's door. Or was it Raven's? He wasn't so sure anymore. It was pink, had a fluffy white border, and was splattered with posters of Jesse McCartney.
Robin shuddered. The flu was really starting to freak him out. He was pretty sure that the Raven he saw would look really scary.
"Come in!" Raven shouted in a high, girly voice.
He hesitantly opened the door. He ogled at the sight in front of him. Raven was… wearing pink, a pink tank top, to be precise. She also wore a white miniskirt with strappy heels. (Ok, I'm guy, so I have no idea what you girls consider 'prep'. This was the best I could do since I didn't want to ask for help on fashion.) Her hair was tied into two high… pigtails. She also had ribbons in her hair. "Hi, Robin!" she squealed.
She was… redecorating her room. The walls were… pink. There were even more posters of Jesse McCartney on the walls. There was fluff all over and little plastic butterflies stuck to the walls. "Hey, Robin," she said teasingly. "What are you staring at?" She was also dancing to the radio.
He wasn't staring. He was listening. Raven was in there, dancing to one of his favorite songs.
"Raven, I'm disappointed at you! After all our years of friendship and you telling me what music you listen to, you listen and dance to this? How could you?" he practically fumed.
"Well," she said nervously, looking at the ground.
"Without me!" Robin finished. It was playing, yup you guessed it, "These Boots Are Made For Walking".
Raven giggled. "I'll standing right next to you if you're man enough to dance with me," she said cockily.
"Pfft. I'm just as man as you are," Robin retorted. "Wait," he said, wondering what he just said.
"Oh yeah? Can you beat this?" Raven did a very cool move. (I don't dance, so I don't know what move to call what she did. Imagine in your mind a very, very cool move please.)
Robin's pride wouldn't let her get away with that without a comeback. "Please. I've been doing this for years. Watch this." He then did… the Carlton dance. (Yeah, Carlton from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. If you don't know him, ask someone or watch it for yourself.)
Raven snickered. "You makin' fun of me, woman?" Robin asked swerving his head like a snake for a more dramatic effect.
"Robin, just stop. Let's just jump around the room instead of actual dance steps."
"Fine," he agreed.
They jumped around the room like crazy. "Can I get a soooeeey?" the radio asked. (Is that how you spell it?)
"Soooeeey!" they shouted with all their might.
"Can I get a yee-haw?"
"YEE-HAWW!" they shouted even louder.
They kept jumping around and dancing. One the song was over, they stopped to catch their breath. "Hey, did you hear about how she broke up with what's his face?" Robin asked.
"Mmhmm."
"Do you think I have a chance now?" he asked hopefully.
"You want the truth?"
"Never mind."
They listened to the radio. The radio then said, "Ok, well here's our wannabe artist of the day section. This hilarious rap was sent to us by "Anonymous" from Jump City. Let's hear this."
Robin cocked his head to the words. "I'll kill Cyborg once I get the chance."
"-In Afghanistan
As I searched for the Taliban. Word."
Raven turned her head slowly towards Robin after the rap ended. "Robin, didn't Cyborg ever tell you that you white boys don't rap?"
"How about E-"
"He's good. You're not," she answered his question before he could finish.
"Oh, come on Raven. It sounds much better live!"
"Uh, um," her eyes scanned the room, hoping to find something to change the subject.
He pulled out his little recorder. "Yo, my name is Robin man," he started.
"Get out," she said firmly.
"I'm so hot I'm like a frying pan."
"Get out," she stated even more firmly.
"All my fangirls chased me in a van."
"GET. OUT." she shouted.
"In Afghanistan."
"GET. OUT. NOW!" she shouted in her demonic voice, her hair whipping like tentacles and her eyes glowing red.
Robin, totally oblivious to her due to his swollen ego, continued. "As I searched for the Taliban."
"AZARATH METRION ZINTHOS!" she screamed.
"Oof!" Robin groaned as he hit the hallway wall. He rubbed his head.
"She totally wants me," he said in a cocky voice. "I mean, what girl could resist my good looks, musical talent, and charm?"
"Robin," Starfire asked, a bit melodramatically. "What were you doing in there! With Raven?" Starfire heard all the thrashing about in the room and the "sooeeys" and "yee-haws" in there, and, well you know what most people would think.
Robin, feeling slightly embarrassed about his terrible dancing, didn't really want to tell Starfire about the dancing. If he did, then she'd probably drag him into a night club and make him endure public humiliation. So, he decided to say something he knew the naïve girl could probably take well enough.
"Fun stuff, Starfire. Fun stuff."
Starfire, fuming, slapped him so hard that it left a huge red mark shaped like her hand on his cheek. "Ugh! You stupid playboy! As of this moment, we are so not an item anymore!" She stormed off grumbling.
Robin didn't feel too guilty. He didn't do anything wrong and was convinced that just a few flowers could make Starfire bounce back to her peppy, happy self, and she'd forgive him and forget anything happened. Still, he wondered.
"Since when does Starfire speak proper English and understand slang?" he questioned. He rubbed the sore spot. "Hehe. She totally wants me too," he grinned. "I'm… to sexy for my shirt, to sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts," he started to sing as he made his way towards BB's room.
Ok, about the Jesse McCartney thing. I don't own him either, and I'm glad I don't! I don't own Fresh Prince of Bel-Air either. I also don't own Jessica Simpson (Heh! I wish!)or "These Boots Are Made For Walking". I don't own the 'I'm too sexy' song either. Ok, well please review.
