Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans.
a/n: It's been forever since I've updated this story. I've been reading a really good Slade/Raven fic, and it puts my writing to shame. If any of you guys want to read it, it's here on F. , and I'll send you the link.
I'm going to go to the Prophecy after this. There's a part in the episode where Raven tells Robin that she "hasn't been able to meditate". I took that context and ran with it.
P.S. This chapter takes place during the episode "Cyborg the Barbarian".
Ugh, I love these two so much. It's really embarrassing.
Not my best chapter, but please review, share, etc. Story will get better, I promise.
blister (1): a small bubble on the skin filled with serum and caused by friction, burning, or other damage
Chapter Four: Blister
"This is ridiculous," Raven snarled, desperately searching through her books. Cyborg had, for whatever reason, vanished into thin air that morning right before their very eyes. Robin had immediately ordered Raven to go through her spell books and figure out a way to find him.
Unfortunately, Raven wasn't having much luck. Hell, the most she'd sensed from whatever had taken her teammate was that it was from the past. But how long ago and where remained a mystery.
Crapola, said Lazy. All this studying is making my brain hurt.
It's to save Cyborg! Intelligence - who was on edge since the answer to bringing him back seemed to be nowhere - gawked at her sister.
"Quiet, all of you," Raven demanded testily, rubbing her temples. God, what was happening to the world? First, the birthday incident. Robin leaving, then coming back in a considerably better mood than he'd ever been in. Someone was following her. Now, the Cyborg fiasco.
It was times like these Raven really questioned why her mother hadn't drowned her at birth. It certainly would have been far more simple than dealing with this mess called life.
Stop it, she scolded herself. You're just on edge. Meditate.
Meditating was probably the best idea. Raven tossed aside a particularly large volume of spells, smoothing out her bed sheets.
"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos," she chanted, enjoying the familiarity of the words. Yes, this was better.
"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."
Raven was in the Nevermore now, surrounded by nothing but grey rock and silence. It was her place of peace, her place of tranquility. Her emotions were strangely absent.
"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."
Something was off. Raven couldn't place it, but a strange, horrid feeling was tiptoeing across her chest.
"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."
She coughed.
"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."
Smoke tainted Raven's senses, overwhelming and bitter.
"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."
Raven? Timid whispered, fear tainting her tone.
"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos."
There's someone here.
Raven's eyes flew open, and he was there, the Nevermore melting into flames.
.
Slade had been hiding in the shadows, invisible to her. Raven had been too busy about the Cyborg disaster of the morning (which, even Slade could admit, was bizarre) to notice his presence. Her room was like a mausoleum, anyway - if he'd simply pretended to be an artifact of some sort, she'd probably never notice.
Ha, ha.
Since he was in the Tower, Slade was sorely tempted to check on the other Titans. How was Robin? Still loyal, still foolish? How was Starfire? Still naive? How was Beast Boy? Still an idiot?
Well, he couldn't check on Cyborg. He was somewhere deep in the past, summoned by a witchcraft Slade knew Trigon wasn't a part of. How the hell he knew, Slade would never understand, but his powers had seemed to extend to anything of magic. For example, he knew the chest under Raven's bed contained the soul of an imprisoned dragon.
Wonder what the story behind that one was.
She was meditating. Slade chuckled slightly. Raven knew someone was watching her - how could she open herself up to be so vulnerable, so easy? Clearly, this job was going to be far too easy.
The flesh of her neck, just above her turtleneck, was pallid in the darkness.
Temptation itched through him.
No, no. Slade narrowed his eye. He would not touch her again. Not for the burn.
"Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos," said Raven, shifting her leg the slightest bit and revealing the skin of her inner thigh.
Something very male and very resigned reverberated through Slade. Jesus Christ, why didn't her uniform involve, you know, pants? Sweatpants? Slade felt sick and fascinated at the very same time. How had this woman-child slipped his notice while he was alive, again? It wasn't like opportunities to admire her weren't present during his life.
No, he'd been too focused on world domination or control or evil. Why hadn't he, just once, taken the time to look? Not that he would have done anything - Slade wasn't a pervert - but for crying out loud, he was a man. Any other man would've jumped at the chance to view such a lithe, young thing.
Slade couldn't help but feel that Raven, overall, was a simply lost opportunity.
Well, he could make up for lost time. Why not put the fear of God (or in this case, Trigon) in her? Slade'd always relished the pain of his enemies, male or female. Here was a perfect opportunity to drive the message home, just a little more. Perhaps he would even help her with this Cyborg problem. A stressed Gem did nothing for him.
Gathering his powers, Slade dove himself into her mind, coloring her vision into a nightmare.
.
Fire.
Lava.
Destruction.
Burning.
Raven could feel the heat off the flames, scorching her skin. Sweat pooled into the corners of her eyes, sliding down her face like salty rain. Desperately, she searched around for any trace of the Nevermore, of her emoticlones.
"Happy?" she called out. "Brave? Timid?"
Well, if any of her personalities had caused this, she could bet it would be Rage.
Yet, at the same time, Raven had the sick feeling that it was none of the above.
"You seem to be having difficulties," a voice behind her observed. Whirling around, she saw him, cocking his head to the left.
Of course it was him. It was always him.
Raven glared at Slade. "Leave me alone. Leave my friends alone."
He laughed, and a gust of lava spewed in an arch behind him. "That's precious, Raven. But you know perfectly well that won't be the case."
Slade paused, then clasped his hands behind his back. "And for now, it's beside the point."
"What point?"
"Cyborg."
A stream of something cold trickled down Raven's spine. "You wouldn't - "
"No, it wasn't me." Another step closer. "Honestly, Raven, do you think I would waste my time with him? My message was for you. And you are all that matters."
Raven blinked. She was positive Slade hadn't meant it to sound that way, but it was still creepy.
Another step.
"Try locating his sonic cannon's frequency. He should be about five thousand years into the past, give or take."
Well, screw her.
Whoa, Passion gawked. You're so smart, Slade. I respect that. I respect that a lot.
Actually, it's not a bad idea, Intelligence was wide-eyed under her spectacles. Her expression promptly soured, realizing that the answer she'd been searching for was coming from the worst criminal in all of Jump City.
Skeptical, Raven narrowed her eyes. "Why are you helping him?"
His broad shoulders went up, then fell. "Not him, Raven. You."
Jesus, he was close. The burn was aching, pulsing beneath her skin, writhing under her clothes -
And God, it felt good.
She licked her lips, swallowing. What was going on?
"Why?"
Slade was directly in front of her. But he didn't answer.
Instead, his arm shot out and grabbed Raven's wrist, and her whole body was on fire, and it erased all her fears, all her worries, all her feelings in a flash of flame on flesh -
Raven gasped in cool, dark air. She was back in her bedroom, panting on the bed sheets. Sweat beaded and dripped down her forehead, the only reminder of the burns in her vision.
What the hell had just happened?
I...I think that's what sex is supposed to feel like, Passion covered her mouth. I mean, I've only imagined what it would be like, but I kind of thought it should be like fire -
Shut up, Rage growled. Or so help me, I will tear you apart and feed you to the ravens.
Passion huffed indignantly. Raven, aren't you going to say anything?!
But for once, Raven agreed with Rage. Passion was becoming far to fixated on Slade, of all people. She was sorely tempted to imprison the emotion altogether.
Hey! Passion protested.
Raven ignored her. Instead, she fingered her wrist. She could almost feel the ghost of his fingertips, hard and heavy and scorching.
And God damn it all, it was the best she'd felt in a long, long time. The burn was a great and terrible distraction, but a distraction all the same; one that worked.
"Shit," Raven whispered to no one in particular.
Later, she would find that Slade's suggestion worked. Later, she would find that the Titans had no idea where she'd gotten the idea from.
Later, she still remembered the burn.
.
Slade knew he'd made a mistake the second he materialized back into the world.
"Shit," he muttered to himself, glaring at the dark rock beneath his feet.
He'd broken his vow. He wasn't supposed to touch her.
Too bad it felt too damn good. The opportunity to feel had been too much of a temptation; really, Slade was ashamed of himself. At what point did he lose the patience he'd always scolded Robin for lacking?
Raven would know, now, that there was something off. She wasn't an idiot, not like Starfire or the shapeshifter. No, Raven was smart. She would do her best to evade him, more than ever.
"Shit," he said again, crouching on the ground. Dragging one hand along the earth, Slade hoped to feel a spark of something, anything.
Nope. Still dead. Rest in peace. God bless.
Slade was most certainly not resting, and he wasn't at peace. And he was fairly certain God would never bless him.
That damn girl. Who would have known that, out of all the Titans, Raven would have been the one he valued most?
There was no going back. Slade had a taste of her, now, of the delicious flame between their contact. He had to keep her safe anyway. What harm would a little touch do, just every once in a while?
Again, something twisted uncomfortably in his non-existent stomach.
His fingers flexed, and Slade could hear his bones clank against the interior of the armor.
Dear God, he thought tiredly. May the end of the world come soon.
