WarningsFeaturing Horny!Robin, Generous!Raven, and heaps of innuendo.

30 Romances Theme Ficlets

Robin/Raven

By Kysra

Theme #4 (Diabolical; Highest Order): Wager

Robin was on the cusp of a dilemma, and it was entirely his own fault (for once). You see, while he was caught up in the euphoria of newly-wed bliss, he had made the mistake of presenting his new wife with the prospect of Valentine's Day. Never mind that they had never – not once – celebrated it before, they were married now and that meant he had one day out of the year to shower her with romantic overtures. She had pointed out – and rightly so – that he was always trying to be romantic and that 99.9 of the time his efforts were wasted on her; wasn't it romantic enough that they were (finally) married?

But no, no it was not. He would not rest until she saw, felt, heard, experienced the depth of his ardor for her, and she had relented, throwing up her hands in her first ever show of blatant frustration (he had been so proud) and storming out of their christened bedroom to begin the day.

That had been a month ago. Valentine's Day was in two days, and he had no plan, no ideas. He was toast. Because, once she had cooled down, his lovely bride of three months had turned his little proposal into a wager: If he could inspire a visible reaction from her, she would bite her tongue and let him build a personal gym adjoining their house (working out made him frisky therefore he liked to have her nearby and accessible – not that she ever actually complained about helping him expend the extra energy). However, if his attempt at romancing the stone fell flat, he would be forced to endure two grueling weeks of boarding the Munchkin Maulers which wouldn't be so bad in and of itself (he liked the little spores) except that Teether had begun to experiment with his abilities which meant no surface or object was safe, Melvin had started to notice boys, and Timmy's temper had only gotten worse in adolescence.

There was also the little fact that they were newly-weds and Robin wasn't quite ready to relinquish her undivided attention just yet. Maybe it was selfish, but considering the amount of blood, sweat, tears, and raw will he had put into wooing her, he thought it was only his due to enjoy the fruits of his labors uninterrupted and without care.

And Good God, was he enjoying it! In fact, he had never been a religious man, but there had been many times since the wedding when he found himself thanking a Higher Power, vocally and with enthusiasm, to his wife's very apparent amusement.

He did so love to make her smile, if only because he liked a challenge.

And of course, he was no fool. His dearly beloved spouse never bet on anything she wasn't sure she'd win. She was nothing if not shamelessly fatalistic, seamlessly cynical, and diabolically practical. She raised pragmatism to an art form. His was a veritable goddess of seeming simplicity (though intricately so).

Which was why he was so completely stumped as to how to approach this whole Valentine's debacle. He tended to think in complex turns and tangles, complicating the basic and exacerbating the already difficult. She was the linear thinker of this outfit.

And – to be quite honest – he had exhausted all of the Valentine's clichés long ago. In the past, he had given her chocolates, flowers and jewelry; serenaded her (never again); accompanied her to the opera; sprang for a romantic dinner under the stars complete with a string quartet; danced on a floor littered with rose petals; walked along the beach holding her hand; surprised her with a bedroom lit with a hundred candles and a bed made up with silk sheets; written countless cards and notes and poems (really, NEVER AGAIN); AND made it a point to tell her he loved her every day he was lucky enough to wake up next to her. She was always appreciative of his efforts though she would insist that she didn't need all of these schemes or material shows of affection to know he loved her; but he knew that she understood why he went out of his way – he wanted to give her something normal, something that any other head-over-heels guy would give his girl, something she had never experienced before: total devotion.

It was worth it just to see that teasing little sparkle in her eyes.

Of course, he had to admit that it would probably be in his best interest to steer clear of the generic flowers-and-a-box-of-chocolates routine. After all, the best way to get a reaction out of his little witch was to catch her completely off-guard. She would be expecting something out of Romance for Dummies; therefore, he needed to be more cunning, personal, sentimental. Because if there was one thing he had learned about the queen of his heart, it was that no matter how much she tried to hide it (and she had LOTS of practice), she was affected by the little things that mattered. And only one thing really, really mattered to his wife: family.

He grinned suddenly and picked up the phone. He knew exactly what he had to do, and with a wry chuckle he realized he had been right in his assumption that being in love would ruin his sex life.

-30romances-

Raven was a professional at hiding things of the corporeal variety as well as thoughts and feelings, so she was reasonably certain that Robin would never find his Valentine's gift. Still, she checked it for tampering for the hundredth time that day – just in case, before setting out to pick up some take-out for a night in. She had history on her side when she assumed they wouldn't be going anywhere near outside their bedroom tonight . . . unless Robin was feeling especially adventurous.

He was insatiable – not that she really minded. He was always considerate of her time if she had some urgent business to attend to; though, admittedly, she had not yet found a reason important enough to turn him down. Maybe because feeling what he felt when they were so intimate was an addiction she couldn't shake. It wasn't about physical connection, it was about souls embracing; and Robin had an extraordinarily beautiful soul.

She smiled softly. He made her feel beautiful inside too.

It had been easy then, agreeing to this St. Valentine's Day celebration. He had given her so much of himself, tried so hard for her every step of their acquaintance, friendship, and courtship. It was the least she could do to give him this one day to show him how much he meant to her. She was so unschooled in love, so green in the face of his easy affection that she sometimes wondered if he really, truly understood that her spirit would starve to death without him.

Of course, he had no conception of what she was planning. The wager had been a rather devious masking mechanism. She had known he'd be so preoccupied with trying to find something to extract a visible reaction from her that he would never even guess at what she was planning for him. In fact, she would be willing to stake her marriage on the assumption that it had not occurred to him even now – on the big day itself – that when she had agreed to a Valentine's exchange, she had meant a mutual exchange. He was simply that selfless when it came to the people he cared about.

She was not a Christian, had a limited knowledge of this world's conceptions of the deified; but Robin had been raised in that tradition, and what she knew, she understood through him. It was through the intercourse of the Cathecism that Raven's view of Robin as an angel was – at least partially – formed. In her mind, when she felt him most keenly, he was a seraph (though she fervently believed it would never be his calling to sing) and somehow gifted with the power to purify her through the force of his own goodness; and in her heart, she knew him as her guardian angel, sent from whatever Powers That Be to be what she needed most – a friend, what she wanted most – family.

Actually, now that she thought about it, she should be ashamed for thinking of him as angelic in any way, shape, or form. Richard Grayson was anything but angelic. In fact, he could be positively devilish when he believed the situation called for it . . . especially if he happened to be alone with her. Anywhere. Anytime.

Honestly, his penchant for risk taking with their privacy held the potential for extreme embarrassment.

Which was why deciding on his gift was such a simple thing. Really, it was easier than changing a spark plug in the T-car. Here was a beast that needed taming, and Raven was nothing if not adept in the art of self control. His present, then, was as much for her as it was for him. Still, she knew he'd enjoy it . . . in more ways than one.

-30romances-

When he returned home – rather early by his standards – Valentine's night, he was exhausted. He wondered how it was he could do Nightwing patrol with no problem and extra energy to spare, but bussing a few kids around the city made him feel like an old man.

He didn't immediately see Raven, but he could smell Chinese take-out and roast chicken. Before they had taken vows, they had mutually decided that Raven would not count cooking among her half of the household chores. Robin wasn't a proficient chef, but he could actually produce edible meals. It was only practical that he be relegated to cooking duty.

"Raven?" He called, pointedly closing the front door behind him and unknotting the tie at his neck.

She appeared from the kitchen wearing a neat little dress that he remembered Starfire had picked out years ago. It had always been his favorite though she sometimes looked a little uncomfortable with the notion of an outfit that showcased her shoulders and arms. "I think the common greeting is 'Happy Valentine's'".

Despite the fact that he had gone into this knowing he was going to lose out, he couldn't help but think that loss – in this case – was sweet. "Forgive me. Happy Valentine's. I see you've been busy."

"Very." She gave him an expectant look. "Are you going to kiss me or do you want to stand here looking at each other the entire night?"

He laughed before stepping in and kissing her, hard and with feeling because God knew when they'd be able to be intimate without interruption in the next few weeks. "I love you." He whispered against her lips before swatting her bum for good measure.

"Love you too." She was still a little awkward when she said it, but he knew it was no less heartfelt. When she moved to take his hand and lead him away from the door, he sighed heavily and pulled her back against him.

"I have something for you."

"Robin, you always have something for me."

Had it been any other day and any other circumstances, he would have laughed and dragged her to the bedroom right then. It was a rare and special occurrence when Raven made a dirty joke. "Well, there's that and then, there's this –"

He didn't even need to open the door himself. The Maulers (really, they were too old – with the exception of Teether, maybe – to be called 'Munchkin') launched into the house, running for Raven, clasping her in hugs, and yelling "Happy Valentine's Day!" at the top of their lungs.

Robin made sure to capture her reaction on camera. After all, he didn't want his lovely spouse to renege on their wager due to lack of indisputable proof. Honestly, though, the wager was the last thing on his mind as he watched her mouth open in surprise and her face brighten with the largest smile he had ever seen from her; and he couldn't help the answering grin he felt stretching across his own mouth as he noted the way her arms kept the three bundled close to her, how even though Melvin was now an authority-challenging teen and Timmy was still enmeshed in the "girls are disgusting" stage, they clung to her just as tightly as Teether who was still young enough to need the security of a mother-figure.

Eventually, as the chaotic chattering of the siblings died down, and the novelty of the surprised had lessened, Raven looked up at him from smoothing Melvin's hair, eyes glowing, and mouthed a silent 'Thank you.'

THAT made the almost-intentional ruin of his sex life worthwhile.

Soon, they were sitting down to a candlelit dinner (some juggling was in order since Raven had set up only two chairs and two place settings) in the parlor that doubled as Raven's private library; and though he had originally hoped for a night alone with her, Robin couldn't help but feel utterly content as he took in the scene unfolding before him.

Melvin chirped about the multitude of high school dramas she was - happily - not involved in while Timmy tried to get a word in edgewise about how he made the soccer team and he really wished the monks would let him stay out later to practice, and Teether fairly bounced in his seat as he fairly yelled over his siblings to announce that he had aced his last spelling test. And through it all, his dour darling managed to show genuine interest equally with grave nods and free smiles and soft words of advice, encouragement, and congratulations.

She was amazing, loving these children. It was amazing, seeing them love her back. The sight made strange thoughts rise in his head about their future progeny and how he wouldn't be disappointed if they ended up pregnant despite their pre-wedding decision to wait. Seeing her like this, soft and protective and positively glowing with love . . . he lived for it.

And as dinner passed and the children began to wilt with exhaustion (jet lag was a hard taskmaster), Raven's eyes met his across the table, and he suddenly knew that no matter how much he enjoyed watching the Misses playing mother, he was not going to survive the next two weeks on eye sex alone.

Later then, after the mess had been cleared and the kids were safely tucked into their makeshift beds, Raven found him in his study, trying to find a quiet moment to congratulate himself on a well-played victory and woefully wondering how he was going to handle behaving for the extent of the Maulers' stay.

"I have something for you too." That was his Raven: direct and straight to the point, not even a hint of teasing. "I was planning on giving it to you whether you managed to win or lose."

Turning, he found her in the doorway, covered from head to toe in flannel (how she had developed such a passion for such an unattractive material, he would never know), holding a tube-shaped container in her hands. Intrigued, he stood and held out his hands, raising one brow and smirking at her. He hadn't expected that she would . . . When did she -- ? And where was it hidden?

"You didn't have to."

"You'll thank me. I'm already thanking myself." THAT had him shaking with suppressed mirth – He was only beginning to understand the keen sense of humor that lurked beneath the cold façade. Her brand of humor sprung not from her words, but from the fact that you knew she was saying exactly what she was thinking.

She watched soft and somber in the dim lamplight as he opened the tube and gingerly pulled out . . . blueprints? His eyes met hers, confused. Couldn't be, he thought; but she nodded quietly in response.

His private gym. She had been planning on giving it to him anyway? And people wondered why he had married her.

In a moment, she was at his elbow and taking the plans from him, spreading them out on the desk and pointing out the layout. "I wasn't sure whether you wanted to include certain amenities since it will be built right outside, but I insist on the meditation room." It was a small room in the very corner of the would-be building labeled in small letters that had been crossed out in dark green ink then re-labeled.

"Hanky-panky room?" Robin snickered.

An expression he recognized as 'unamused' adorned her face, "Garfield."

"Ah, and dare I hope that I'll get some 'hanky-panky' tonight?" He knew it wasn't possible with a house full of kids, but he couldn't help himself.

'Unamused' suddenly turned to 'shrewd.' "Are you up for another bet?"

Despite their already established closeness, Robin stepped even closer, lowering his head and stopping just before their lips touched. "Depends, but I'm definitely feeling like a winner tonight. What are the terms?"

Small hands smoothed their way up his chest and over his shoulders. "There is a bow located somewhere on my person. You guess where, and you get to have your way with me."

She was a little witch; but she was his witch, and he knew that she wanted to lose this one. Still . . . maybe he hadn't ruined his own sex life after all. "And if I guess wrong?"

"There's no way you could guess wrong."

"Really?"

"Oh yes."

"And how is it that I can't be wrong?"

She pushed up on her toes to lick the tip of his nose before stepping back and making her way – somewhat unsteadily – to the door. Once there, she turned just enough to look at him and answer, "I won't be wearing anything but the bow when you guess."

He blinked, grinning like a shark circling its prey before following her example and moving to exit the room. "And what about the kids?"

"They know we're married, Robin." Her tone was as flat as always with just a hint of exasperation, but she relaxed into his side when his arm came up to clasp around her waist.

"Well then. Maybe we should give them earplugs."

"Are you insinuating that I'm loud?"

"Are my eyes blue?"

His lovely wife spared him a sidelong glance before raising her eyebrows in challenge before sedately walking ahead towards their bedroom. "We'll see who makes who scream tonight."

Definitely, definitely did not ruin his sex life. Definitely, definitely a winner tonight. There was a God.

He smirked before following. "Wanna make a bet?"


Author's Note:The story behind this fic is a simple one -- I was telling Emaniahilel that I felt really badly about all the work and suffering all of us Rob/Raven shippers tend to put him through. I swore that I would write a fic in which he got everything he wanted with little or no effort. THIS is that fic, and just in time for Valentine's Day