MAJOR EDITAGE: I was so harrangued when I completed this last night and when I realized I couldn't post it because of the swine bug that made me have to figure out that I had to save it as an html before FFN would let me upload it to the site, that I totally forgot to give up some MAJOR prop-age to Jurodan, the ABSOLUTE BEST, most patient, honest, and just all around GOOD TT Beta reader that could possibly exist. (No offense to other TT Beta readers out there...) He really worked on this chapter a lot and I think by the end, I was so crazy about just posting it and getting it out there, and I know I mentioned how he edited this before, BUT, just in case, he worked really hard and devoted a lot of time to this chapter, so Jurodan, ((BIG hug)) thanks a bunch! You're da best! ((BIG GRIN))
p.s.: Go read his stuff! You won't regret it! He's on my fav author list and my current obsession is with his Shards of Hope. (It's what finally got me hooked on TT fic, to be honest...and why I wrote out Tried and Tested because I had just read his story and couldn't get the characters out of my head.)
A/N: Quick note before the story: This is rather long and it's not as funny as I wish it would've been. Also, we get a glimpse of the other Titans' interaction with the Birds near the end. (Well, most of them anyway).
Disclaimer: No more mine now than they were when I first started this thing. Get with the program, people!
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It Only Takes A Moment
Part IV: Pasghetti
By Em
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"Let food be your medicine and medicine be your food."
- Hippocrates
She got as far as chopping the onions into fine little bits before one of her friends found their way into the kitchen. She knew, of course, what was going to come (and her being slightly psychic had nothing to do with it) but she didn't even bother to look up from the smooth cutting motion of the large knife on the wooden chopping board.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him walking slowly as he took in the sight of the three pots simmering on the stove, their lids covering their contents from view. Luckily, she had learned the trick about cutting out the heart of the onion before you chopped it so that it didn't make you cry, otherwise, she'd have to face him with a puffy face and teary eyes.
Finally making it to her side, he stood next to her and leaned his hip against the sink. "What are you doing?"
She looked up momentarily from the small pile of diced onions on the board, the knife stilling, "I would think it's pretty obvious," she spoke, the look on her face clearly implying she thought he was just a little daft merely for having had to ask; even if she knew he would.
Robin blinked for a moment, beginning to take in the full package, not just the pots on the stove, but also the various condiments spread out, the chopping board and the knife in her hand, her hair picked up in a loose ponytail at her nape and finally, the white chef's apron tied around her waist.
To her utter surprise, he chuckled. "Okay," he conceded. "Let me rephrase that…" he looked at her, amused. "Why are you cooking?"
She shook her head and turned back to the onions, chopping up the last few slices. "Only in this house is someone ever asked why they're cooking," she mused aloud. She moved to one of the pots at her side and dumped the onions into it, glancing back at him as she moved past him to get to the sink. "Why does anyone cook?" she asked rhetorically.
He raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just being difficult."
She rinsed the knife and cutting board and went back to the pot that was next to the stove. After a brief inspection, she began to mix the ingredients she had previously added and after a quick few strokes of the mixing spoon she placed it on the final burner with a practiced flourish. Once done, she wiped her hands on the dishtowel hanging from the band around her apron and flashed him a quick grin. "I got tired of take-out," she finally answered. "Aren't you?" she countered and shrugged before he could answer. "It's always the same thing…pizza or Chinese or…" she allowed herself a small shiver, "Señor Tofu…"
He started to nod, when apparently, the smell hit him and his stomach growled in automatic response. His eyes glazed over and he turned to the stove, being drawn to it like a moth to a flame. "That smells…" he inhaled a big lungful, "…delicious," he decided. "What is it?"
She shrugged nonchalantly and pointed to the pot closest to her with the large knife. "Meat sauce with tomatoes, basil and a little garlic," she said casually. She managed to ignore his stunned look and pointed the knife to the next pot which happened to be the pot she had just put on the stove. "This is the meat for the meat sauce," she explained. "Ground beef independently seasoned and cooked just enough to take in the flavors of the spices."
He pointed to the pot on the back left side burner which seemed to be the biggest one of the four but it had a lid and he couldn't see. "What's in here?" he asked.
She shrugged. "As of right now, nothing, just a little water, butter, and salt ready to boil at a low heat."
He looked confused. "Huh?"
"It's for the pasta," she explained. "But I can't put the actual pasta in until the meat's done because the pasta doesn't take very long to cook."
She could feel the slight confusion coming from him as she explained the various pots and realized almost immediately why it was so confusing to him. No one in Titan Tower had ever seen her cook.
"I didn't know you knew how to cook," he verbalized.
She shrugged. "It's not a big meal or anything," she replied. "Just spaghetti with meat sauce."
"You've never cooked before," he continued, still amazed.
And again, she shrugged. "You've never asked before."
He narrowed his eyes and it was obvious to her that as nonchalant as she had tried to be about the whole thing, he had caught on to something and wouldn't let it go until he found out. 'Well…' she thought. She had known she would draw attention as soon as she started cooking. Even though, when she thought about it, she had hoped that it would be someone who wouldn't have asked so many questions or been so suspicious that had found her, she also knew that it could very easily be much worse.
"None of us asked this time either," he pointed out the weakness to her counter.
"I already said I couldn't take take-out one more night," she replied weakly.
The gears shifting in his mind were so obvious to her that she knew, without having to consider reading his mind or opening herself up to his emotions, that he was considering whether to leave her flimsy excuse alone or pursue it like the proverbial dog with a bone.
She turned around and uncovered one of the pots nearest to her, stirring it with a wooden spoon. She brought the spoon out of the pot, a small bit of red sauce on the tip and placed no more than a drop of it on her tongue, tasting it. For a moment, her expression was far away as her taste buds worked around the small sample she had taken, working through the taste to decide what, if anything, was missing. When she decided, she walked around him to the counter where the spices were and sought out the salt. Triumphant, she walked back with it to the pot and tipped a small amount onto her palm, eyeballing the amount with a keen and watchful eye. Once she was satisfied, she flipped her hand and the small salt crystals fell and were subsumed by the heated sauce.
"What's in that one?" he pointed.
She looked at the pot on the back right hand burner and made a face. "Meat substitute sauce…" she said monotonously, but with just a hint of something that made it sound as if she had just refrained from adding an 'ech' onto the end of that. "I am avoiding smelling it though…" she paused. "And tasting…definitely not tasting it either…so I don't know how it'll come out…"
His eyes widened. She was making food so Beast Boy could eat too? He was at first surprised, then pleased that she would be considerate enough, liking the idea of doing something for their friend, then came the nip of jealousy. Why was she cooking for Beast Boy? The Titans rarely cooked and when they did, it was usually no more than the person cooking at the time required for themselves. (With the exception of Cyborg, of course, who could occasionally be prevailed upon to cook something other than the 'Chili Con Carne Con Carne' or waffles which were his specialties.) And other than take-out, where each of them could order whatever they wanted, cooking one meal for everyone was really too hard to even consider. And yet here she was, cooking not only for herself, but for Beast Boy as well? He hated to think what that meant. Hell, he hated to think what it meant that he didn't want to think what it meant.
His frown, even if he thought he was hiding it, was blatantly obvious to Raven. She did not, however, know what had put it there. And she didn't know how to ask about it, either.
So instead, she walked to the sink and had to nudge him out of the way to get at it. Then, grabbing the newly rinsed measuring cup she once again nudged him out of the way to reach for the olive oil in the cupboard before which he had repositioned himself. This time, when she nudged him out of the way, he moved only to stand before the drawer with the spoon she would need to stir the oil into the sauce. Luckily, he knew better than to position himself before the stove itself and so she managed to pour the oil into the sauce and stir it without having to move him out of the way. When she turned, however, ready to perform the next task on her 'make dinner for the Titans' list, it was only to find that he had unerringly once again moved to the one place she needed to be.
When she realized this, she stopped before moving him again and put her hands at her sides, looking at him with her lips pursed, "Are you just going to stand there getting in my way or do you plan on being productive sometime soon?"
Robin had been in somewhat of a trance, however, triggered partly by his realization of the ease with which she moved around the kitchen as if it were a well choreographed dance. What had kept him in this half-trance, however, was the shock of the realization that despite the fact that no one he knew was more unlike a 'domestic goddess' than Raven, as he watched her, she seemed so at east that he was finding it hard to remember why she should not rival Martha Stewart. 'Hell,' he thought, 'give her her own show!'
He did, eventually, realize that she had directed herself at him and he shook himself out of his thoughts only to answer with an intelligent, "Huh?"
She motioned vaguely above her and he reached up and grabbed the bowl she needed that was directly above him and handed it to her. She took it and motioned for the fridge. "I put some fresh parsley in the fridge, would you grab it for me?" She stopped moving when she saw him bend into the fridge. "And while you're at it, grab the fresh stuff in the bottom drawer too, will you?"
He walked passed her and grabbed the items, starting to hand them to her but stopping when they were just out of her reach. She looked at him and raised a brow. She, of course, knew why he had stopped. The look of, 'why should I?' on his face plain even for the blind. "If you plan to eat any of this, you might as well help."
"I…?" he started, the pieces starting to come together in his head, but not fast enough for him to remove the confused look off his face before she realized what he had assumed.
"Did you really think I was cooking all this food just for myself?" she asked.
He looked embarrassed, but managed not to blush. He couldn't, however, prevent himself from looking at the dreaded meat substitute pot. "No…" he said softly. "Not just for you…"
She followed his gaze to the pot of tofu sauce and blanched. 'Did he really think I was cooking just for me and Beast Boy?' she wondered. Why would she do that? She wasn't stupid, of course, and knew why someone would cook for herself and a guy and no one else, but what she didn't know was why he had assumed she would want to cook for herself and Beast Boy alone. "Me and Beast Boy?" she blurted out before her sense of restraint could stop her. Although he didn't verbally reply, his look clearly answered as to what his assumptions had been. "Why would you think that?"
"I hadn't gone that far in my analysis, to be frank," he answered a little defensively. "I didn't think it was any of my business to assume why you might be doing it, but it was obvious by…"
"The large quantities of non-vegetarian food that I was preparing that of course I would eat all by myself…" she interrupted sarcastically. She shook her head and took the parsley from his hands, leaving him with the red onions, tomatoes, peppers, and romaine lettuce. "Are you always this jealous?" she asked as she set out to chop the parsley into small bits.
He almost dropped the tomatoes, managing to grab them when they fell out of his hands by the grace of his training. "Jealous!" he asked when he had recovered. "I'm not jealous!" he assured her. "What's more, I don't do jealousy…" his hands and the tomatoes still in them moved from hand to crook of arm and back again, precariously balanced and about ready to fall. "I don't have a jealous bone in my body…" he emphasized his point with a hand movement that tipped the balance of the round vegetables and made him shift his weight and hold once again to keep them from falling.
"You will not find one instance of jealousy in my repertoire…" he motioned to her with one of the red onions that had stayed in his right hand while the other vegetables had been cradled in the nook of his left arm. "…jealous? Ha!"
Unperturbed by his very vocal assurances, she motioned calmly to the red onions still in his hand. "Slice those, will you?" she turned away and wiped the once again cleaned knife on the dishtowel at her waist. "For a salad," she finished absently as she turned back to the parsley. He watched her as she expertly chopped through the parsley. When she was done, she took it, chopping board and all, to the pots with the sauces. Expertly, she scraped about half of the chopped parsley in each of the sauce pots, grimacing only a little as she uncovered the tofu one before quickly re-covering it once she was done.
He was still standing right where she had left him. She looked at him with eyes open in meaning. She took the peppers from his arm and went back to the chopping board, stopping to take out another large knife and handing it to him by the handle.
When he realized she was urging him to do as she had bid, he set down the other ingredients onto the counter and took the knife, taking only the red onions to the extra chopping board.
Once she saw he had started to do as she asked, she started cutting the peppers into neat, easily edible bite size portions. "Maybe not jealousy," she continued their previous conversation as casually as one might speak of the weather. "But certainly competitiveness," she finished. She glanced at him and the look was one of careful but emotionless consideration. "I thought you had gotten passed that whole winning is all that matters nonsense?"
He tried to hide his blush by working on the onions, easily slicing them into thin rings. "I always feel the competitive tingle," he answered nonchalantly. "I did learn the damage it can do though, so even if I might initially feel the desire to be competitive, I generally don't act on it." He looked at her. "And I still say that I wasn't exactly competitive just now either," he pointed out. "You gotta give me some credit."
She smiled a little. "Okay, you're right," she went back to slicing. "You had enough control to try and make the comment nonchalant, so I give you credit for working on it."
He was still a little stunned at seeing her smile so suddenly. It had not been more than a slight upturn of the corners of her lips and it hadn't lasted very long, but a smile was a smile. He filed the memory of it away with the others in his mind and went back to slicing.
"So," he spoke into the comfortable silence, which had fallen around them as they sliced up enough onions, and peppers for a great salad. "What really brought on this sudden culinary inspiration?"
She stopped and looked at him. "Now why is it so hard to believe that I just wanted to cook something home made?"
He didn't pause in his ministrations but only shrugged. "Maybe because I know you better than you give me credit for," he answered casually.
Every time Robin brought up the closeness they had gained from their mind meld something inside her moved. She didn't know quite how to describe it, except that it seemed as if something that had been curled up and at rest inside the pit of her stomach suddenly shifted. She feared it a little, this thing inside her. For it was unlike anything else she had ever felt before – even her Rage. And although it never hurt, it always felt odd and hot and oh so powerful and she always felt like a mouse trying to run across the kitchen floor praying the cat sleeping a few inches away wouldn't wake until she got across the floor and could hide. And she knew, she just knew, that it would mean trouble if it ever woke up.
But unlike with her emotions, she didn't know how to control or suppress this thing and all she could do was ride it out, stay perfectly still, and not think about his words too much, hoping it settled down on its own. Ideally, she would have run away and hid, but with dinner on the line, she didn't think he'd let her.
So, all she could think to do was change the subject and hope he'd go with it.
"Are you trying to say that I'm not type that would take pleasure in cooking?" she asked hoping her voice sounded as nonchalant as she had tried for.
He glanced at her and quirked his lips. She recognized that smile. That was his 'I know something you don't know' smile. She really wished she could see his eyes.
"There's a lot of things I'm trying to say," he admitted. "But not one of them is that you're no Martha Stewart…you already know that."
'Well,' she thought, 'Robin is nothing if not honest.'
He picked up one of the tomatoes and tossed it to her. She caught it easily and began dicing it. He mirrored her.
"Then what are you trying to say?" she asked, looking intently at her hands and the knife, keeping her voice steady.
"All I'm trying to say is that I know you well enough to know that if you wanted home cooking so badly that you were willing to actually cook it yourself, even if you enjoy it," he paused and glanced at her "which you haven't admitted to yet," he went back to chopping. "It would only be when no one else was in the Tower and there was less chance of you being found out."
She stopped working and looked at him, surprised enough to show it. She opened her mouth, apparently to counter his statement, but he continued dicing and went on as if he hadn't noticed.
He had noticed.
"So," he continued conversationally. "If you are cooking while there are still people in the Tower, it either has to be because for some strange and out of the blue reason such as it is national cooking day on Azarath or something equally unexpected," he ignored her narrowed gaze and looked at her pleasantly, "or you are upset at something enough that the fact that other people are still in the Tower is not enough to deter you from cooking which is the only thing that will relieve you from your…" he motioned vaguely with the knife, "…add-reason-for-upset here."
She realized her mouth had been hanging open and she closed it with an almost audible snap. The thing inside her was stirring again, testing the walls of the haphazard cage she had slapped over it to contain it even though she knew that if it really tried…if it just stretched with any tenacity, the walls would crumble under its power. She hid her face by turning back to the tomatoes in an attempt to buy herself some time to let the thing inside her settle. She was, however, disappointed to realize that they had already chopped, sliced and diced everything that was going to go in the salad. "There aren't still people in the Tower," she answered, the decibels of her voice slightly lower than normal.
He looked as if he might have been widening his eyes, but she really only had the shape of the white lenses of his mask to go by. "What am I, chopped liver?" he asked, clearly offended.
"No," she answered in that same soft voice. "You're…different."
He cocked his head to the side, the turn of his lips signaling he was pleasantly surprised. "I'm different?" he asked. "How so?"
She was uncomfortable and it wasn't hard to tell. "You're…" she trailed off, unsure of what to answer. She hadn't really thought this far through. She had thought he would back off before now. He was still looking at her, waiting for her to finish her thought. "…not people…"
He didn't look appeased. On the contrary, he rather looked even more confused. "I'm not?" he pressed.
"No," her eyes lit on the crisp romaine lettuce and although she hadn't been planning to tear it up yet, doing so would at least give her something to occupy herself with other than continue this conversation.
"If I'm not people," he looked at her hard enough that he drew her eyes to him even as she reached for the lettuce. "Then what am I?"
'How did the tables turn on her so easily?' she wondered. "You're not just people," she tried to answer. "You're…" 'Special.' She stopped herself before she finished the verbal thought. "You're Robin," she answered instead, obviously for lack of a better adjective. "Not people, just different."
"You said that already," he pointed out.
She rinsed the lettuce under the tap and then started to shred it with her hands, letting it fall into a bowl under it. "I know," she replied.
"What does that mean, exactly?"
She had really been hoping that he would drop it. But Robin was like a dog with a bone that way and she hadn't had high hopes for that possibility.
"It means your like people in general," she tried to answer as vaguely as she could. "You're you…Robin…and so you're different than everyone else."
"Different than, say, Cyborg?" he asked.
She nodded, offering no other comment.
"Different than Beast Boy?"
She rolled her eyes, but didn't think he could see it since she was still bent over the lettuce that was taking her way too long to shred. "Yes."
"Speedy?"
She looked up, frustrated. "Of course!" she exclaimed, immediately regaining her composure. "You're not like anyone else, Robin," she told him, calmer. Realizing how that might be interpreted, she shrugged and returned to the lettuce. "And no one is like anyone else."
She didn't think he had bought her cover up, but she did hope that maybe now he would let it drop. He didn't.
"So you're saying that there's something about me that makes it so that it's okay for you to do something that you would not do in front of any of the others?"
She sighed. "Yes."
He waited for a few moments, and for the briefest of moments, she thought he wouldn't ask. "What?"
She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until he asked and she released it on a long exhale. "I don't know," she answered. And as much as she hated to say that there was something anywhere that she didn't know (for her, it was like giving up or admitting defeat…if she didn't know, she would find out…) she preferred saying that she didn't know to saying the truth: That she did know…or, at least…suspected. She wasn't stupid and approached everything with a logical eye and all the facts as of late seemed to be leaning to the fact that she saw Robin as something different than she saw the other Titans. She hadn't come to the conclusion as to what she saw him as, but in truth, that was only because she had stopped investigating. She was not about to tell him any of that, however.
"You don't…" he started pensively, the way he would hope to lead a suspect to offer more information.
"No, I don't," she confirmed. "I don't know why I don't mind it if you're around when I'm doing something personal like this, just like I don't know why I don't mind it when you know things about me that I haven't told anyone else…" she trailed off staring at the washed and ready lettuce with the water pouring over it still before she reached over and turned off the tap. "I just don't." She looked up at him. "You're different, but I don't know why."
Looking back at the bowl in the sink with the washed and shredded greens, she drained out the excess water and raised the bowl onto the counter, placing it within his reach. She met his eyes and the meaning in hers was clear: 'Let it go.'
"Fix up the salad, would you?" she asked as she turned back to the pots. "This stuff's almost done," she lifted the lids of the real meat and the real sauce and dipped a spoon into each, tasting a dab and smiling, pleased.
"Is it good?" he asked.
She nodded and dipped the spoon back into the sauce pot, bringing out another dab and extending the spoon to him. "Have a taste?" she asked.
He grinned and took hold of her wrist, steadying her hand as he leaned in to lick the tip of the spoon she still held. When he looked up at her it was with surprise. "That really does taste as good as it smells!"
She smiled and slowly pulled her wrist out of his hold, turning back to the pot with the meat in it. "I think this is ready to cook together now," she told him, putting the lids of both the meat and the sauce pots aside. "You want to help me out here?" she asked.
He nodded. "What do I do?" he asked.
She handed him the dish towel from her waist and motioned to the meat pot. "Take the pot carefully and dip it toward the sauce pot…I'll help the meat into the sauce pot using the spoon," she told him.
He did as she instructed and together, the meat slid easily into the sauce with minimal casualties. Except for a spot or two on his uniform front and on her apron. "Sorry," she offered sheepishly. "I think maybe I should've given you an apron before I recruited you for this kind of work," she admitted, taking the dishtowel from his hands and trying to dab at the red stain.
He chuckled. "It's alright, I've got 42 more."
She shook her head and continued to dab. "That's no excuse."
"It serves me right," he shrugged, "for walking around in my uniform on a quiet afternoon anyway," he said wryly. He watched her dab uselessly at the tiny spot and wished he could spare her the trouble, but was unable to find the words to tell her to stop.
She looked up at him and raised her own eyebrow. "You think?" she teased.
"So I have issues about walking around in civilian clothes," he defended half-heartedly. "I seem to remember someone who walks around in her uniform about as often as I do."
She shook her head. "Not as often as you do, Robin," she countered. "I'm not in my uniform now, am I?" she looked down at her comfortable tan slacks and worn in t-shirt under the apron. "I think I have a sense of when wearing my uniform would cause problems like when I'm cooking."
"Well, I didn't know that I'd be cooking, did I?" he countered.
Finally deciding the red sauce on his shirt was a lost cause, she sighed and stepped away. Realization flashed in her eyes and she quirked a brow. "Forty-two?" she asked. He grinned and nodded. "You have forty-two uniforms?"
He shook his head. "Actually, forty-three with this one," he motioned the one he was wearing. "And well, I started the year off with fifty, but, you know…the whole Slade regent thing killed one of them, I lost two or three more along the way just from irreparable rips and tears of the uniform proper, obviously not the cape, and then I had forty-six until I went off to train with the True Master and came back to find you guys had…" he trailed off as she hid her face and flushed at the memory, "Well…adapted four of them…" he shrugged. "It's better to have more than I need than not enough, anyway…"
She looked up at him, incredulous for a few moments. "Were you a Boy Scout growing up?"
He was caught off guard by her question and was about to ask her where that came from when it suddenly occurred to him and he laughed. "Lemme guess…" he started, nodding along with her…
"Be prepared," they said in unison.
He laughed and shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's easier to order these things in bulk, since they have to be special ordered." He realized what he was saying and turned suspicious eyes to her. "How many do you have?"
She shrugged. "More capes than leotards, in any case," she answered vaguely. Of course, she knew exactly how many she had, but she wouldn't admit that to him after making fun of him for just such a thing. "Why is it every bad guy we meet decides to sharpen his claws on my cape?" she asked.
He laughed and nodded. "I know!" he agreed. "But you know," he grew serious. "I could probably make you a cape of the same material as mine…at least a prototype and you can see if you like it…it wouldn't tear as easily and would help protect you if you ever got attacked and didn't have time to raise your magic or something."
She seemed to be considering his suggestion for a few moments before she nodded thoughtfully, "I appreciate the offer," she answered. "And maybe in our spare time we can work on one," she agreed. "I don't want to take up too much time on it, because I'm not sure I'd be able to adapt to the weight of it."
He nodded. "I understand." And of course, she knew he did. He would understand that she was used to things a certain way and that she wouldn't want to change things that worked for her necessarily unless she could live with the changes.
She smiled a ghost of a smile before she seemed to remember something and turned back to the pots. "Damn," she mumbled under her breath. "I hope it didn't stick…" she said more to herself than to Robin. She began to carefully stir the mix of sauce and ground beef and lowered the heat to a low simmer.
"Did it stick?" he asked, going back to take on his assigned task of the salad.
"Nope, at least not that I can feel," she announced as she stirred.
"Good."
She nodded and put the discarded ground beef pot into the sink next to where Robin was working. Walking back to the stove, she flipped the switch of the water pot to the highest level and turned down the heat on the tofu sauce pot without opening it up.
When she turned to the sink it was to find that Robin had already started to wash the pot she had just placed there. She smiled, but it was gone by the time Robin realized she was looking at him.
When their eyes met, she turned back to the stove and switched the large pot with the boiling water to the empty front burner and adapted the heat temperatures to the others accordingly.
While she waited for the water to boil, she went back to the fridge and reached into the freezer, pulling out a long French bread looking piece of aluminum wrapped package. Done with the sink, Robin turned to find her placing it carefully on an empty space on the counter and ripping open the aluminum packaging. His eyes opened wide as she revealed the frozen wonder inside.
"We get garlic bread, too?" he asked, mask opening wide to show his wonder and pleased surprise.
She nodded, smiling. "Not if you don't help, though, remember!" she said with a slightly playful tone to her voice. "Grab the cookie sheet from inside the oven and bring it here with the greased paper."
He found the items and lined the cookie sheet with the greased paper while she cut the loaf. Without further instructions, he brought the baking tray to her and together they placed the cut pieces of bread onto it.
He reached across her back for the discarded wrapper and scanned the instructions for the oven temperature, silently setting the oven at the appropriate temperature and setting the digital alarm on its face for the amount of time.
"Now what?" he asked as they looked at each other, their tasks completed.
She seemed to consider the question, momentarily going over her mental checklist of tasks, until her eyes brightened and focused as she hit on the next task. Seeing as how he was the closest to the fridge, she pointed to it and went in search of the grater.
He went to the fridge and looked into it. Now that the fresh vegetables she had bought were gone, there was nothing left but various degrees of blue food. 'Well,' he corrected, 'And jars of Pudding of Remembrance that Star made for them before she left which even the mold seemed hesitant to touch.' "What am I looking for?" he asked.
"Bottom shelf…" she mumbled as she stuck her head further into the cabinets in search of the elusive grater. "…parm…" her voice trailed off as the sound of clattering utensils echoed in its place.
His eyes found the out of place item that she must have been talking about, conspicuous in its freshness. He grabbed the saran wrapped package and brought it out to look at her, "Did you mean the…" he trailed off as he saw her, half on/half off the counter, leaning more and more forward in order to search through the endless drawer of accumulated kitchen utensils they rarely ever used. He couldn't help it…he laughed. "What are you doing?" he asked when he had regained some of his composure.
He began laughing again, however, when she emerged from the search inside the cabinet holding up a beat up plastic cheese grater in one hand and a grin of satisfaction on her face. She sobered up immediately upon realizing the look on his face.
"…y-yes," she answered, noticing he was holding up the cheese in his hand and trying to withhold a smile. "The cheese, for the pasta…" she reached out her hand for it. He remained looking at her. "One word and I swear you'll learn a new use for a cheese grater, Robin," she warned.
He chuckled. "Sorry…" he replied immediately, handing her the cheese. "Just…"
"Shut it," she warned darkly, taking the grater and facing the counter to work. She looked around and realized she would need a dish to put the grated cheese in once it was grated. She cursed under her breath. She would not brave that mess again…not with him watching and ready to make a snide comment.
She was just wondering how she was going to get him to look for the plate when suddenly the dish was placed in front of her on the counter. She turned slightly surprised eyes to him.
"Doesn't that one work?" he asked.
She just barely stopped herself from grinning like an idiot. Instead, she cleared her throat. "It's fine," she conceded.
And although she thought he might drift away when there was obviously nothing else for him to do since she was grating and they were just waiting for the water to boil, he surprised her yet again by leaning against the counter at her side and watching her as she grated.
"You can go and play your game now," she told him emotionless once again, her hands scraping up and down on the grater.
"No thanks."
"This is the boring part," she told him, glancing up at him. "We're just waiting now."
He shrugged. "Waiting's fine," he told her, arms crossed over his chest. He grinned a little. "If you're in the right company."
She shook her head and tapped the grater on the dish, making certain to catch all the bits before laying the grater in the sink and going back to the stove where the water had already started to boil. She turned to the corner of the counter where she had set aside the air tight plastic container with the long strands of uncooked pasta only to find that Robin had once again anticipated what she was going to search for and had not only grabbed it, but opened the container and held it within her reach.
The silence shifted and grew around them as they worked easily. Robin focused on rinsing the last few utensils that had accumulated in the sink while Raven carefully fed the strands of spaghetti into the boiling water. It was almost hypnotic the way that she carefully and gently submerged the strands into the water so that they didn't break until they softened in the heat and disappeared under the surface.
By the time he leaned back against the counter at her side to continue watching her, the boiling water was almost full of. And still, the silence reigned.
And in the silence, Raven was having trouble keeping her mouth closed around the words that wanted to spill from her lips. She almost wished that he had insisted in knowing what had spurred her interest in cooking, but he hadn't and because he hadn't she only wished she could talk with him about it all the more. But she couldn't seem to find the way to bring it up. It wasn't, she realized, that she didn't trust him. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone else alive in this dimension or any other. She trusted him even more than she trusted any of the other Titans, which really was saying a lot considering she trusted all of them with her life.
It wasn't even that she was afraid or felt weak if she talked about it. It wasn't anything like the things he had found out on her birthday at all. She knew that. She really wanted to share this memory, this moment with someone else and have them know why it was special, but…how? She couldn't just say, 'oh and by the way…' She was no good at small talk. She never had been.
She cursed her instinctual reaction to clam up and change the subject. But she was so used to not showing anyone anything that it was difficult to convince herself that it was okay. And then there was the fact that there really was no reason why he would want to know about what the significance of that particular day meant in Raven's life. It didn't affect the Titans in any way and didn't put anyone in danger.
No, it was just…personal. And she had always been taught that her personal things were no one's business. What was more, no one really wanted to know about it. She had learned how to deal with her own problems within herself, how to experience all the emotions it brought up without letting any one around her know. What she had never been taught, never learned, was how to deal with other people about her problems. If people felt sorry for her, she grew angry but didn't know how to take their sympathies. If people felt empathy for her, it was an uncomfortable situation that she could do nothing more than ignore until it went away. If you ignored people who were trying to be sympathetic long enough, they all eventually went away. No body wanted to feel anyone's pain other than their own, anyway.
Most people didn't want to share in your grief. They wanted to share in your joy and in your triumphs. And although your friends are those that will not leave you alone and who will muddle through your problems with you if they must, no one really ever wants to stand with you as you grieve, no matter what shape that grieving takes. It made them uncomfortable and uncertain and made them think of their own mortality and so they just rather ignore it and go on with their lives as if nothing had happened if you let them.
And for many years, Raven had let them. Because she really believed that they didn't really want to know.
But now…
Now she was starting to think that maybe Robin was different. He had done his duty and stood by her when he sensed something was wrong. He had asked and tried to get her to talk about it. And when she wouldn't, when he could have left her alone to her own devices like most people would have and gone on with his own life, his own plans for the day, he had stuck around. He had stood with her and helped her and joked with her (in their own way) and without knowing why she needed to do something as out of character as cook, he had helped her without once making her feel strange or more alone.
He didn't push her or try to intrude, but he let her know that he was there, close enough so that she just had to whisper if she wanted to talk. Without him having said a word, she knew without a doubt that he would listen to her, not because he felt he had to, but because he really wanted to help her and this was a new, strange feeling too.
She didn't remember the last time she wished she knew how to open up, how to share with him, because for the first time since she was a small child, she felt that the person who listened to her really wanted to be there.
But she didn't know how.
She watched as the last few inches of uncooked spaghetti sank lower and lower into the pot. "Today is the anniversary of my mother's birth," she spoke aloud, her voice verbalizing the words with much more calm than they echoed inside her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his head rise to look at her. "How old would she have been?" he asked.
She had never told him of her mother's death, and she was a little surprised that he had made the leap of logic. He might have been wrong, but he wasn't and so she smiled a little as she began stirring the pasta in the pot slowly so that it wouldn't stick to the sides. He hadn't asked what she had secretly feared he'd ask. The crowd favorite: 'Oh, she's passed on?' or 'How did she die?' or those other kinds of meaningless phrases. And she suddenly remembered that he had seen some of her memories just as she had seen his. "Thirty-three," she answered.
"So young…" he said softly.
She nodded and sighed. "She was only 16 when she had me," she admitted. She glanced at him and was surprised to find a soft, sad smile on his lips.
"My mother was Twenty-four when she died, she would've been thirty-five this year."
Raven found herself answering the intimate smile with one of her own. "So close in ages," she admitted.
He nodded and looked at the cabinets across from him blankly. He turned to her and grinned. "They could've gone to High School together." He chuckled, "Except my mom grew up in Metropolis," he mused.
She didn't feel as upset as she might have, talking about her mother like this. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, "My mother grew up in Gotham," she provided.
He grinned at her. "So maybe they would've been rivals," he offered.
She couldn't make her face go back to being emotionless. Maybe it was the surprise of how easily Robin was talking about his mother or maybe it was the surprise at how easily she was finding it talking about her own mother, but nothing seemed to work and she wasn't even thinking about using her chant. "I don't think they would've run in the same circles…" she admitted. "Your mother was probably the Homecoming Queen or at least a nominee."
He shrugged. "So? Your looks had to come from someone, Rae, so I doubt your mom was unpopular."
She shook her head. "I don't actually know," she acknowledged softly only realizing later that what he had actually said sounded suspiciously like a compliment on her looks. She blinked and turned to look at him, fighting off a blush. Had he just complimented her? She couldn't be sure, and before she could think of something to say about it, the moment passed, however, like dust in the wind and she lost any opportunity to investigate…not that she would've known how to approach it if she had had the opportunity.
Thankfully, Robin himself was the one that changed the subject, motioning to the pots before them on the stove. "So this is a kind of birthday dinner?"
She shook her head, looking back at the cooking food. "Kind of a tradition," she stirred the pasta one more time and removed the spoon. "We would do this when I was a kid on our birthdays," she explained. "She's the one that taught me to cook, and no matter what other things were going on, on our birthdays we would cook together enough food to feed the whole temple." She shrugged. "I know it's a little silly, but…"
He was shaking his head and it stopped her. "It's not silly," he assured her. "It's actually a great idea to remember someone important."
She looked at him, shocked that he would so easily understand something that she herself hadn't ever really vocalized. Still in a slight state of shock, she nodded. "Yes, I guess it's just my way of remembering her."
He smiled at her and she broke the moment by looking down at the pot before her, chuckling a little dryly. "Of course, we didn't make spaghetti. It was usually more typical Azarathian food, but sometimes we made different earth dishes…" she shook her head. "Not spaghetti though…" She met his eyes and there was a bit of humor in hers. "Spaghetti was just the easiest thing I could figure out how to do."
He grinned. "You should've made an Azarathian dish…" he offered. "It can't be worse than Tamaranian food."
She hid her face so he couldn't see her laugh. "Well," she started, regaining control. "There are some peoples on Azarath that prefer to eat foods like the Tamaranians cook…" she trailed off and at his look of near horror, smiled. "I'm joking," she told him, her tone only slightly amused. "Azarathian food is a lot like Earthinian food of the Mediterranean, actually," she explained. "We don't eat too many of the same animals, though," she admitted. "The ones we do cook aren't anything like cows or deer or pigs here," she offered.
"Doesn't sound too bad," he admitted. "Maybe you should try it sometime?"
She shook her head. "No thank you…I'm not going to try to teleport one of our animals just so you can try them…" she raised her brow. "Anyway, you're going to have enough of alien cuisine when Star gets back from visiting Tamaran…you know she always brings back supplies."
He chuckled and shook his head. "Gods help us," he mumbled. "I'm already running out of ways to hide the food she does give us."
She looked at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I just make it disappear."
"Why do I have the feeling you mean that literally?" He asked suspiciously.
She shrugged noncommittally. "Because I do?" she asked innocently.
"Do I even want to know?" he questioned.
Her lips were still upturned slightly in what might have been a twitch on anyone else, but on her probably constituted a smile. "Like this," she elucidated by waving her hand and making the nearby dishtowel disappear. "See?"
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Well, that sure explains a lot!" he exclaimed. He stopped and seemed to think about it for a moment his eyebrows furrowing and his eyes seeming to narrow even more into mere slits. "That's not really fair, you realize," he said, looking at her as if he had just found out how she had cheated at Scrabble and wished he had thought of it first. "I always wondered how you never complained about the food and somehow managed to make it disappear even though I never saw you take a bite."
She shrugged, able to almost smile again. How many times in one hour had she smiled, she wondered? "Hey, we work with what gifts we have…I am luckily blessed with the ability to teleport objects."
He furrowed his brow. "Where exactly do you send it all, anyway?" he asked as it occurred to him.
"Let's just say the inhabitants of Trillian 5 in the Alpha Centauri System have been eating rather well lately."
He looked at her in awe, "Damn!" he exclaimed before he could help it. Realizing he had just cursed, he put a hand to his mouth and blushed. "Sorry," he offered.
She really was grinning. "You just cursed."
He blushed even harder. "I know, sorry," he repeated.
"You never curse unless you're really angry or really surprised."
He nodded. "I have no excuse for my lack of respect." He looked up at her to find that she was practically grinning (which, for Raven, meant that she was smiling enough to actually show just the faintest hint of teeth). He realized that he hadn't offended her. "Don't laugh at me," he chastised. "I'm not the one that's been surreptitiously teleporting Star's food half a galaxy away!" He remembered what had made him curse in surprise in the first place. "And I didn't know you had such an extensive range…"
She tried to withhold a smile, but not very hard. "Yes, I rival all your local cell phone providers," she answered sarcastically.
"You know what I mean."
She did smile then. "Yes, well," she sobered and went back to her task. "It's probably because my abilities are fueled by concentration and trust me when I say that I usually want Star's puddings as far from me as possible and I concentrate really hard on making that happen."
He laughed but she looked pensive.
"Doesn't always make it to Trillian 5 though…" she thought about it for a moment. "Once it splatted on a Japanese guy," she explained. "Another time, Beast Boy nudged me and it got teleported into his sock, which I'm sure he hasn't found and won't find until his next scrimmage of Stank Ball, and a Russian seal was hit on the head by a rather large portion when Star turned just as I was teleporting and almost caught me last week."
He was laughing so hard, his stomach ached. "How do you know where it goes?" he asked, wiping at his eyes.
She shrugged. "I have to concentrate on where to send it, so when it doesn't make it, I just know where it is that it goes…it's like an extension of my magic goes to that place, so…" she shrugged again. "It's hard to explain."
He shook his head. "Well, all I've got to say is that you would make my life a whole lot easier if next time you would just take my servings, too," he asked, still chuckling.
She mock saluted. "Yes, sir," she replied. Her gaze shifted to the stove again and she frowned a little. "I should probably take a look at the tofu sauce, shouldn't I?" she mused aloud.
He looked taken aback. "No," he said seriously. "Don't do it! It's too dangerous!" he tried to keep himself serious, but couldn't help and chuckle at her serious expression.
She smiled at his chuckle and shook her head. "No, really," she said trying for seriousness. "I have barely looked at it since I put it on the stove…I think some attention is warranted…" she didn't look happy, rather like someone who knew she had to take medicine she didn't want to take. "If I'm going to do this, I might as well do it right."
"You are a brave soldier," he said with mock severity.
"Not really," she replied, still looking at the pot with the tofu sauce in it like a child looks at a really obnoxious relative. "I just feel kind of bad about not paying as much attention to Beast Boy's stuff as to everyone else's," she admitted.
"Maybe if you hold your breath?" he offered.
She considered it for a few moments. "Normally you'd need to smell it to know if it was cooking right, but I think I'd be willing to go by look alone…"
He grinned lopsidedly. "What? No tasting?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you joking?"
His grin widened to show that he had been. "I'll give you five bucks if you taste it."
She shook her head stoically, not even tempted. "Not for a million."
"I'll intercept Beast Boy from your path for a whole week if you taste it," he upped his offer.
She seemed to consider it. "Tempting as the offer of watching you skirmish with Beast Boy is…"
"Are you insinuating that it would take me any length of time to get him to leave you alone?" he asked, slightly offended.
She cocked her head to the side. "Remember that little voice inside your head that tells you when you're being too competitive?"
He frowned and seemed about to argue, but halted himself before he did. "Right, okay, point taken…"
She turned back to the pot and visibly squared her shoulders. "Okay, I'm going in…"
He saluted. "You will be remembered."
At some point between Robin helping Raven by holding her nose closed while she opened up the pot to stir the tofu sauce and check for consistency and Raven's sudden epiphany that a salad would not be any good without salad dressing, Cyborg and Beast Boy entered the Tower and gravitated toward the kitchen and the sound of casual conversation and life therein.
And although they missed almost all of the important stuff, Beast Boy and Cyborg did manage to catch the tail end of the mad dash for dressing ingredients. And even though the boys had entered quite rowdily, the two birds were too busy arguing about whether or not she should add mayonnaise to the dressing to pay much attention to them.
"If you're going to use the bottled dressing why do you need the mayo and the blender?" Robin was asking.
"Because the bottled dressing is acting as a base since I don't have time to make it from scratch," she explained.
"But…" he frowned, "Mayonnaise?" he stressed, looking a little disgusted.
She measured out the bottled dressing into the blender and added two heaping tablespoons of mayo. "It's either mayo or eggs," she pointed out, glancing sideways at him.
He made a face, "I think I prefer the mayo," he mused.
"Beast Boy will have to use that vegan dressing he's got somewhere," she decided aloud even though no one had argued with her. "I am not making two different dressings," she shook her head and glanced at him. "That's just ridiculous, wouldn't you agree?" He nodded and she reached across him to grab the sugar.
He realized what she was reaching for, grabbed the sugar bowl and handed it to her. "Sugar, too?" he asked, increasing in his surprise.
She chuckled as she measured out the sugar into the blender adding two tablespoons of the grated parmesan cheese as an afterthought, "You'll like it, trust me," she promised.
"Star and her mustard and Raven and her mayo," he reflected aloud cheekily.
She turned to glare at him and pressed the start button on the blender like she wished she had him inside the blades.
"Did you see that?" Beast Boy whispered, so as not to call attention to himself. He watched as Robin and Raven continued to talk and seemingly joke together, unaware that anyone else was present.
Cyborg looked shocked and he hadn't really blinked in a few moments but he hadn't realized that yet. His jaw was hanging just slightly open and his eyes (both human and cybernetic) were open wide and slightly glassed over. He stood up to his full height instead of crouching behind the counter in the hopes of getting a closer look. "I can't believe it," he mouthed. "It's home made food." His look was one of careful joy, as if he were expecting to wake up at any moment.
"Dude!" Beast Boy whispered fiercely, pulling him back down into hiding. "Raven chuckled!"
Cyborg seemed unable to process that and turned back to watch as Robin handed Raven a bowl. She poured the contents into the bowl and he absently took the blender back to the sink while she started whisking the contents until it liquefied a little more.
"That doesn't look like salad dressing," Robin pointed out suspiciously.
She looked at it and seemed to hate having to admit that he was right. "There's something missing…" she mumbled raising the whisk to look at the consistency.
"Aliens?" BB whispered, trying not to be conspicuous.
Cyborg ran a quick scan of their vitals. He shook his head gravely, shock still on his features. "Not even body snatchers," he whispered back.
"Oil!" she exclaimed, grinning briefly as she remembered what was missing.
He grinned in return. "On it, chief," he replied, looking in the cupboards for the olive oil. He handed the small bottle to her and she poured a small capful into the mix, continuing to whisk the oil into it, smiling as the consistency started to take better shape.
"That's more like it…" she decided off-handedly as she raised the whisk and watched the dressing pour smoothly back into the bowl. "I think maybe another capful," she looked at him. "What do you think?" She raised the whisk again and let it pour to show him.
He cocked his head a little. "Maybe half a capful," he figured.
She nodded and presented the bowl to him so he could pour the half cap full of oil into the mix. She continued to whisk.
"Okay, so that looks like dressing," Robin approved.
"I don't get it," BB mused. "It's like I'm watching a married couple."
Slowly, Cyborg and Beast Boy turned to look at each other, their eyes widening in surprise as the light bulb slowly started to turn on in their heads, the almost audible 'dingdingdingdingDING' ringing through their expressions.
"DUDE!"
All activity ceased immediately at Beast Boy's exclamation. (Except, of course, for the pots, which continued to bubble slightly above the burners.)
Halfway to putting the glass container with the dressing into the freezer to chill before dinner, Raven raised her eyebrows. Robin, having turned to check on the pasta on the stove, turned at the realization that someone else was around.
All eyes then fell on Beast Boy: two of the three pairs obviously surprised while Cyborg's was slightly panicky.
Under the scrutiny of two surprised and questioning friends, Cyborg swallowed. "MMMM-mmmmm!" he exclaimed forcefully, a big bright smile on his face. "That smells TASTY!" as if that had been what they meant to say all along.
BB gaped and pointed at them, then turned to Cyborg, his mouth opening and closing not unlike a small guppy. "But…they…with…"
Cyborg put a forceful hand on BB's shoulder and opened his eyes wide, trying to impart his meaning to his friend. "YES, Beast Boy, our two FRIENDS have consented to COOK us dinner, isn't that NICE of them!" When BB's mouth finally stopped trying to gulp in air enough to speak Cyborg turned to Robin and Raven who were staring at them in slight shock. "And it smells GREAT!"
Raven's surprise left her just this side of amused and Robin's shock left him proud. "It's just spaghetti with meat sauce," she offered as if it were nothing.
"Home made meat sauce," Robin emphasized, knowing the effect it would have.
Cyborg's eye teared up. "Home made?" He asked, sniffing. The pretence of pleasure he was using to bypass their realization of what Beast Boy almost said fading to leave only the sincere bliss at the expectation of a good meal. "I'm having home cooked pasghetti?" Cyborg asked in awe, his eyes misting up for real.
"Pas…" Raven started, raising an eyebrow. It was just about this moment that Cyborg realized with a sinking heart just what he had let slip.
"…Ghetti?" Robin finished, a grin starting to form on his lips.
Cyborg blushed immediately.
"Dude!" BB exclaimed, turning to Cyborg and laughing so hard he snorted. "Did you just say pasghetti?"
Cyborg hardened his expression as he looked at his friend, preparing himself for the verbal teasing assault. "So what?"
BB's grin turned into guffaws. "I stopped saying pasghetti when I was like 4!"
"But you did say it, huh, Beast Boy?" Raven asked coyly, her words stopping Cyborg's fist three inches from the top of Beast Boy's head where it was about to come crashing down.
Beast Boy blushed immediately. "So what? I was four!" he went into defensive immediately. Looking for a way to change the subject, his eyes fell on the pots on the stove as he sniffed. "Aw, Raven! You made Meat sauce!" he whined. "Now I can't have the spaghetti!" he looked like a lot kitten sniffing for its mother.
Raven shook her head and pointed to the pot in the back…in the corner…with the lid still on… "That is a nutritious," she tried bravely not to make a face as she said the word and just barely managed thanks to her extensive training, "meat substitute red sauce," she added.
BB's eyes watered and he ran to attack the sauce, but Raven raised a hand and he smacked right into a black barrier.
For a moment there was shocked silence as BB was splayed across the barrier like a fly on a windshield. But as he slid slowly off the barrier onto the floor, the room erupted in laughter.
When the oven dinged, Raven glanced at Robin just in time to catch him as he turned to the counter where the tray with the slices of bread had been waiting. Using his signature R oven mitt, he carried the tray to the oven, slightly pushing Raven's legs aside so he could open it and place the tray inside.
Cyborg's nostrils flared and he inhaled deeply. "Gar…" Cyborg started, his eyes growing wide and happy, he swallowed a few times before he could manage to stop the drooling, "Garlic bread?" he finally managed.
Robin looked up at him and grinned, that being the extent of his answer.
"Fresh from the oven…" Cyborg looked at BB who was only just managing to stand and rubbing absently at his nose. Cyborg grabbed the smaller changeling's shoulders and just barely withheld himself from shaking him, "…garlic rolls!"
Beast Boy, used to his friend's jovial ministrations, looked unperterbed at Cyborg and grinned lopsidedly. "Don't you mean, garwic wolls?"
Cyborg's joy faded into immediate anger. "How 'bout I knock out your teeth and that way you'll be speaking that way for real?" he asked, raising his hand to strike him sondly in the head. BB shifted into a mouse and fell right out of his grasp, shifting back into a human once he was out of immediate striking distance.
"You'll have to catch me first, wittle man!" Beast Boy teased.
Just before the chase began, Raven's attention was drawn to the pots on the stove. "Whoever sets the table gets extra helpings," she called out casually as she started to turn the burners off.
As she thought, the argument ended immediately and the only movement in its place was the feeling a slight breeze as they zoomed off.
"Robin, would you get the serving bowls?" she asked.
"Are you going to offer me seconds if I do?" he asked jokingly already moving to find the bowls.
She glanced sideways at him as she stirred the meat sauce pot to make certain nothing had stuck. "I will refrain from pointing out how competitive that comment sounded," she began.
He smiled and lowered his head, realizing she was right. "Thank you," he replied succinctly as he brought the bowls over to her.
"You're welcome," she answered motioning for him to set one of the bowls down close to the stove. "However, you have helped with the meal," she answered seriously, "So you should probably get first dibs on the pickings, anyway," she answered.
He grinned. "Sweet!" he replied.
She was prevented from replying by the sound of Cyborg and Beast Boy arguing over who was going to set the table.
"You don't even know where the dishes are kept, elephant butt!"
"I do so!"
She shook her head, smiling a bit and set about transferring meat sauce and spaghetti to the proper serving bowls, noting in which bowl the tofu sauce was. "You know," she started, sniffing tentatively, "The tofu sauce doesn't actually look that…" she turned to find that Robin was still standing very close to her and staring at her. His expression had lost the playfulness or competitiveness and held only a deep sort of contemplation and concern in the lines of his face and the set of his jaw. She grew instantly serious. "What is it?" she asked.
"If something's still bothering you," he started casually, "You know I'm here…" he looked a bit uncomfortable. "If there's anything I can do to help, just…"
He trailed off at the quick grin she offered him, more at the sincerity in it than anything else.
She picked up the large pasta bowl she had filled with steaming al dente spaghetti and handed it to him as well as the brightly colored serving bowl she had put the tofu sauce into.
She herself took the garlic bread she had put in a small wicker basket, and the meat sauce she had put into a dark blue serving bowl in one hand and the glass carafe she had filled with soda in the other. Their eyes met over their loads and under the sounds of their friends fighting about how many servings they could and could not consume, she spoke, "You already have."
He smiled in return even as she walked out of the kitchen and to the dining table the boys had eventually set, the Italian salad in its wooden bowl, the glass container with the chilled dressing, and the dish containing the grated parmesan cheese floating in a cloud of black energy behind her. After a short pensive pause, he followed her out.
xxxxxx
A/N: Whoa. This one was hard to get out. Not so much because of the scene itself, although it took me a while to decide on what the scene was actually going to be, but because I think it had a lot of technical like stuff (about the cooking) that I had to research and then I felt that it was too much information and too much stuff that wasn't their own conversation. And then when Jurodan looked through it, there were a lot of things that I needed to fix, so…here I am. Posting it now.
I'm starting to realize that there are some things I repeat in my stories when I just want a random something that doesn't particularly mean anything in the story but means something to me. So, yeah. If you can find out where it is in this story, you'll get a virtual cookie! (and everyone knows I deliver on my promises, people!)
I also find myself repeating a certain something in these particular vignettes. Now that four vignettes have gone by and I think I can say that its been in each one, (I haven't really thought about it much except as I'm writing it here, so I could be wrong…allow me to correct myself later if I am) I think I'm going to see if I can keep it going in each of the ones I post from now on. If you guess what that is, I'll give you a double helping of virtual cookies! ((grin)) As a hint, it's also present in Instinct because as I said there it started out intended to be one of the Moment vignettes, and when I changed it it just worked well there, so it stayed.
Thanks: If anyone's reading these that has reviewed in the other one-shots I've put up here, thanks for those, too! ((DOUBLE grin))
Absentia: I know you reviewed for Instinct and not for this story, per say, but you did review for the other stories in that one, so thank you. I hope you're reading this because here's the thing: I think Puck (my muse) might want to take your advice. He's considering doing a quick follow up to Instinct where I might try my hand at some citrusy kinds of fruits. I'm not used to them, so I make no promises. I might chicken out at the last moment, but there you go. Cups was also my favorite of these, even now. Especially because the way it came to me was pure inspiration. It took me almost no time to write at all and it was really a lot of fun. I wish this one were the same, but I'm afraid it's not. ((frown)). Oh, well. Hope to hear from you again, soon, k! Oh, p.s. You're absolutely right about the mistakes you pointed out. I have it on my list to go back and correct those. Thanks!
Guardian Kysra Wow! I'm a big fan of your works, especially the big'un, Walk on Water and to have you not only read my stuff but offer such an amazing review, I'm like…walking on air right now. I hope I don't disappoint with this chapter!
Dark-Magic67 I agree. The thing with the flamers is that they offer no constructive criticism at all. If they did, I would welcome them with open arms. I think people who point out flaws in my logic or in my writing are doing me a favor, but just saying something stupid like "it's Rob/Star" in a review of a plainly "Rob/Rae" story is ridiculous and a waste of effort. But hey, everyone's got a right to be free, so bring 'em on. It's my first time becoming a member of an off-canon fandom like this (in Inuysaha world, most of my stuff is Kagome/Inu with a few flights of fancy into Miroku/Kagome, but not many). Even if I like a pairing especially, if the writing of the other pairing is good enough, it shouldn't matter, right? Anyway, thanks for the review and I'm really glad you enjoyed the story!
Unforeseen: Thanks! I've got a few more possible scenarios in my head, a few scenes worked out, but I don't know if they'll make it out. We'll see! I am trying really hard to put them in non-traditional situations. So, thanks again!
Katylar Thanks for the invite to the Forbidden Love forum! It sounds neat! I am part of the livejournal RobxRae community that I put the link up on my profile page and I think they have a link to the Forbidden Love page from there, so I'll check it out. Caveat: when I have time…that elusive thing…((frown)) Your reviews are really very helpful as they compartmentalize the aspects of a story. Thank you very much for taking the time to do that for me! It's great! I hope to see more of that! I'm dreading what you're going to say about the length of this one, though…((sweatdrop))
Ravene Just to watch my back in case I decide to make it M worthy in the future. Although I think I've downgraded it for now with the decision that I'll upgrade it if I do add something risqué later.
Mysti-eyed: I think that was the exact same website I went to find the picture of the painting too! I knew the painting, but I didn't remember the name of it and that's the painting I wanted to have on the mug he gave her, right from the beginning.
Ainominako No vegan mocking intended! Please excuse me if it seemed that way! That mug with the cow on it was inspired by a sign for a chicken restaurant where the cow had a sign up that said, "Eet mor chiken". I always thought it was hilarious, so I modified it a bit.
The Omakeer: Oh no…I'm sorry if I disappointed you with this one. I don't feel this part was up to the other parts, but maybe that's because I didn't feel like I had as much fun writing it. (except for some parts). I thought she would be the type that once someone went through the trouble of giving it to her would make sure to use every single one of them. And I didn't know about them playing a video game in the comic. I haven't read them although I've gotten some background information from them from the synopsis (synopses?) of the comics. And Raven in Wonder Woman Pjs…well, I almost gave her something totally out of character like Tinkerbell or what I'm curretly wearing, Betty Boop pjs, but I thought what would Beast Boy give her and it just seemed to fit that he would give her WW pjs and of course, there's also the double meaning that he gave Superman boxers to Robin. ((grin))
Elyssalyn Thank you! ((bows, blushes)) I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.
Salanis I'm thinking that they will reach an apex, eventually. There's already one that's written and beta'd that I had written before I wrote this one, but that was much more advanced into their friendship/budding relationship than I wanted to portray this early on, so yeah, I do plan on having them slowly develop into a final sort of apex. I don't know what that apex will be, mind you, but them's the plans! ((wink))
Water81: I went to your profile a while ago, when you first reviewed and I couldn't see which one it was you referred to in this review? If you point it out, I'd love to read what I inspired! ((grin)). And by my first outing did you mean Tried and Tested?
Merciful Sky: If you make one like at Café Press or something like that, let me know and I'll announce it. A few other people reviewed that they'd like one. I guess Speedy's was the most popular! LOL. I thought about setting one up on Café Press myself so people can get it if they want to.
Al the Pirate: I started to read Comfortable actually! I think it's listed on the RobxRae livejournal forum's list, isn't it? In any case, I'm helping the moderator of the list keep it updated and I think I stumbled across your story then. It caught my attention, but I was trying to get as many of those updated, so I didn't have time to continue reading, but it's definitely on my list of things to read! ((grin))
The Metropolis Kid: Thank you for being mature enough to say that! It really means a lot. And obviously, your review was one of the best compliments I could receive. So thank you for that too! ((BIG grin))
Alena-Chan: I hope you're feeling better from the cold! And I can't believe you were actually reviewing to me while you still had a fever! You need to take care of yourself first! I definitely understand if you can't review! ((goes into Cuban mother mode and tries to tuck you into bed)) Please feel better!
Rinagurl13: Heh…"screw the flamer". Yeah! They haven't come back, although someone reviewed very intelligently to my other one-shot, Instinct and said very eloquently, "this sucks". Useful and quite helpful, that. Anyway, yes, I absolutely ADORE Foamy. And I thought it would be perfect that Cyborg's the one to pick up that sense of humor, too. I tried to make each mug a kind of reflection of both the giver and Raven. It's a reflection of the giver because it shows what they pick up about Raven's character.