My eyeballs were baking. Someone had struck a match, threw it into my eye sockets, and now they were alight, burning brilliantly, a supernova erupting in my face. It burned, God damn, it burned! What was happening? Someone stop, please make it stop, please, put the fire out, I can't take it! It hurts, my face, it's melting, where's my skin? All I feel is bone, the bone is shimmering with the ruby waves of blood that cascade from its white surface, oh please, Robin, make it stop, please, Robin—
"Robin!" I gasped softly, ever so softly, and my eyelids flew open. No fire was there. The only heat was the low, dull warmth of the sun searing through the massive windows that unfolded before me. It poured into my irises, the dot of my tired pupils shriveled in distaste. What time was it, anyway? There was no clock—only a flawless view of Jump City that could've belonged to a post card.
And, as long as I was asking questions, where was I? More importantly, where was Slade? Shit, he was going to murder me if I'd missed anything.
I peeled my head away from the surface beneath me. My forehead was slightly slicked with a cold, frightened sweat, and as my elbow moved to support my weight, I recognized a large couch expanding beneath me. It was curved slightly, a half-ring. Damn, and it was comfortable, let me tell you. This was the nicest sofa I'd ever seen! Man, it molded to my body, I could trace my fingers through the curves that my hips and shoulders had dug into the cushions. A petty thief, I was not, but I'd stoop that low to get me some of this luxury. Like honestly, it was perfect, so bouncy and cozy and black and sleek and just down-right impressive—
Okay, Bailey, enough with the couch. Where the hell was I?
My eyes took to peeping over the back of the sofa. An island for eating, cabinets, mechanical panels, stairs, doors with no handles; that summed up the scene before me. It was sickeningly clean. Not even dust motes twirled lazily in the morning sunlight that kissed the tops of the trees and skipped into the room (and woke me up from a very nice slumber, mind you).
Well, no sense in lazing around, I figured it was time to get to learning my surroundings. If I was ever going to escape from wherever-the-hell-I-was, then I'd better get cracking. My feet slipped to the floor, my socks hit the carpet, and I stood.
A blanket cascaded to the floor. It was large, red, an R sewn in yellow into the right hand corner of it.
Um…now, if I remembered correctly, that emblem was slightly iconic…
I was panicking now. My tummy dropped into my intestines, and they had a dance-off. No, no, no I couldn't be there. That was not where I was. I simply…I simply wasn't. I was dreaming. Yes, I was dreaming, I had to be dreaming, there was no other explanation. I mean, come on, they wouldn't be dumb enough to…to bring me there. No way! I could trash the place, do anything I wanted, could steal valuable information. I could steal their couch!
Someone, someone, I needed to find someone, my feet took off into a dead sprint. The doors parted for me, but not quite fast enough, and my shoulder nicked the side of one, but I didn't care. Get out the way, everyone, because I was coming through. And I would maul you down.
Hallway, hallway, hallway, hallway, turn right, hallway, hallway, turn left, hallway, God, who needed all these fucking hallways? It was a maze, a maze that I was about to nuke any second with the grenades tucked away safely in my utility belt beneath my outfit. I wasn't getting tired, not in the least, but I was getting sick of the winding passageways that led absolutely nowhere. It was eerie; not even the floor beneath me whined in protest when I pattered over it. Not a sound was made, save for perhaps the whoosh of air that dove out of my way. I couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing.
Turned a corner—
Aha! Finally! Stairs…okay, cool, where did they lead to? Literally, who needed all these things that led to nowhere? I refused to ascend them. They'd probably just deposit me at the top of the ceiling, making me look like an idiot, I bet it was a booby trap! Hah! Good try, Titans, but I wasn't falling for that one!
…But I was curious. So I thudded up the stairs anxiously. A door with a teeny tiny latch shielded the top, and I unhooked it quietly, opened it with the thickest sense of care that could be laid upon my actions. Once I'd gotten it open, sunlight dribbled down to puddle at the bottom of the staircase. Sky, endless sky greeted me, was I going to step into the ocean without a cloud? Was I going to step into it, fall through, meet God, be sent back to hell for being a little bitch for longer than I could remember? I scrambled upward, onto the hard surface, eager to see.
No, but this…this appeared to be the roof. Were the steps really that useless? I stood to my full height, and though the panoramic view of the city was pretty, I really couldn't care less. I mean…I'd seen it before. Slade's lair was exactly like that, perhaps even more beautiful, more picturesque.
"Ah!" someone grunted loudly. I squealed, whipped around, ready to lash out, my body was tensed with the anticipation of a serious beat-down.
There, at the far end of the cement expanse, was Robin.
I began to flat-out fly toward him.
He was beating the crap out of something, that much I could see. As I approached, a punching bag skewered by a forgiving metal pole was receiving a thrashing. He struck it, and it would lean backward, lazily and uninjured, only to be shoved backward again the second it resurfaced. His legs, his arms, his entire body was all a blur, a mess of limbs that only wanted to harm, only wanted to hurt, he was a machine. I could watch his gears turn, ready to kill if he needed to, defending anything and everything, nothing would stand in his way. Even his cape gave him a nice, wide birth.
"Ah!" he cried out again, snapped his foot out in a kick. "Rah-ah! Ah! Uh-hah!"
He hadn't heard me come, even when I skipped to a stop. He was absorbed in whooping the oversized-bean-bag's ass to notice me. If I really wanted to, I could've taken him down. If I wanted to, I could've slammed my hand into his neck, could've rammed my fingers into a vital pressure point and made him collapse at my feet, an unconscious heap. I could've reached out, grabbed his shoulder, jerked him around—and kissed him, if I wanted to. He was vulnerable, distracted.
"Robin?" I choked. He darted around to face me, on guard, on point, but receded the second he saw me. In fact, everything melted; he looked utterly carefree when his bemasked orbs pinned their attention upon my forehead, upon my breast, everywhere he could've glanced unbeknownst to me.
"You're awake, I see," he commented, and though he was at ease, he didn't smile.
"Where am I?" I demanded, yes, demanded, I wanted answers, and I wanted them now. I couldn't let him stop me, couldn't let my awe of him rob me blind. Letting his mussed, sweaty presence get to me wouldn't do me any good. Sure, watching a single bead of perspiration slither down his temple, slip off his chin, outlining the strands of his luscious hair plastered to his forehead would be nice. But it wouldn't get me anywhere. Imagining him as a hot, sweaty, delicious mess wouldn't forward my escape plan, not one bit.
Although it could be something to bust out next time Slade decided to…
Oh God, ew! What did I just think?
"Titan's Tower," he wiped his glove across his forehead. God, he really was tempting. "But I'm confident that you figured that out for yourself."
"Why am I here?" he was right, I did figure it out for myself. I prayed, I begged, I pleaded for it not to be true, but I guess that's what I deserved. Karma was certainly getting the better of me lately.
His mask looked me dead, straight in the eye. "I couldn't just leave you there."
"Yes you could've!" I shot back, a little louder now, but he was being stupid. "Yeah, that was actually a choice. You could've let me go back to Slade, back to my life, but nooo, you had to be Mr. Super Hero. You know what Slade's going to do to me now? He's going to—"
"He's not going to do anything to you because he's not getting near you," Robin planted his hands on his hips, looking a tad bit offended.
"No, no, I don't think you understand," I shook a finger at him. I was getting angry, really angry, really frustrated. Why…what the hell was I even doing here? I just wanted to go home, I didn't want to be here, I couldn't deal with this. How could he do this to me? How could he risk my life right here? I couldn't be there, this was deadly, I could get cut right about now. Slade, I needed to go back, I needed…I need…I…
"What is there to understand?" he asked calmly. His placidity was pissing me off big time.
"That I can't stay here!" I insisted, throwing my arms into the air. "I can't be here at all, I need to leave! I could die being here, and I know you get that." I looked at him critically. "You know him almost as well as I do."
His lips pressed together in a slim, hard line, one that screamed of non-compromise. "I do. And we have the means to protect you."
"No, Robin," I shoved my face in my hands. I knew I was being an ungrateful bitch; I could hear it in the whine of my voice, the tone of my complaints, I probably would've backhanded myself if I was in his position. How he could remain so calm was beyond me. Maybe his patience had been lengthened by the confused nature of Starfire and her nagging questions every thirty seconds. Yeah, maybe that was it.
I tried to compose myself out of being a brat. "I can't stay here. I'll hurt you all."
"You're being dramatic," he responded to my change in attitude, he was far softer and more comforting than simply rebuffing my rants.
"But I'm not," I said quietly, looked up at him from above my fingertips. "I'm not being dramatic. You've seen what he does to people and…" Oh God, here went some of my dignity. "I don't want that to happen to you. I can't let that happen to you."
The smile that graced his lips was gentle and small, but sincere nonetheless. It set a sun alight in my chest and heat waves flurried through my blood. I was going to be roasted alive by my own body. I couldn't take it, couldn't stand that perfect face of his, the perfection that never ceased with every sway of his hips, every cock of his shoulder, every twitch of his expression. It was all perfect. If I stayed here any longer, if I was in his presence for too long, I wouldn't be able to leave. I wouldn't be able to give up the way he made my tummy squirm just by looking at me.
I had to get out of here now.
"I appreciate your concern," he told me. "But you're underestimating our abilities here. Slade won't lay a finger on you; I'll make sure of that."
No, no, no, Robin, you don't understand! Why are you not getting this? He couldn't seem to see that I didn't want to put him in harm's way in the least bit. The confidence he felt for his team, for his home, for himself was tarnishing his reasoning, that had to be what was happening. He couldn't just be so dense that he couldn't hear what I was saying. He was smart, he was brilliant, so he had to be able to comprehend the words I was speaking. I was speaking English, if I remember correctly. It was either me or him, and I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong, but then I couldn't see what was blocking the transmission on his part.
So…we pretty much were going to get nowhere. Good to know.
Perhaps this was a pointless battle for right now. Maybe it was stupid to try and convince him at this moment in time because clearly, no progress was being made. I appraised him for a moment, two moments, but then gave in for the time being. I would spring it on him later, when he least expected it. Yeah, yeah, that's good, waylay him, be like BOING "haysup"?
I sighed. He accepted my concession.
"Come on," he placed a palm on my shoulder and guided me back to where I'd come from. I honestly almost peed myself, he felt so warm, his touch was so invigorating. The icy winter wind that snarled and gnashed at my bare neck seemed to disappear, evaporate with the heat that splayed from his skin, even through his gloves. It boiled in my veins, my blood was growing thick with the warm feeling, I felt tipsy, drunk with his contact. I was going to pass out. The second we got to the opening to the stairs, I was going to fall to my death, crash with the floor below, and then they wouldn't have to worry anymore. Their fears would be non-existent, because I would be non-existent.
"Breakfast is waiting," Robin was saying, and he didn't remove himself from me. "And Cyborg makes some mean pancakes."
Pancakes. Who needed pancakes? The smell that assailed my nostrils was even better than stupid old pancakes, and as the doors parted with the typical woosh, my stomach snarled.
Someone was cooking some waffles.
I fucking loved waffles.
There was so much commotion when the doors peeled back to reveal the common room. Beast Boy, Starfire, and Raven were seated around the island. The green boy was looking grumpily at the metallic man as he tore some long, stringy slices of white substance and dangled them over a frying pan before plopping them in. They sizzled, growled, snarled, snapped, but it didn't smell too bad. Raven was delicately swirling a liquid around in a thick mug with a long spoon, staring disinterestedly at the argument before her, while Starfire was giggling and eyeing the waffle batter expectantly. The shimmer in her lovely green eyes was clearly happy, she was blissful, how was she always in such good humor?
The bustling action immediately stopped when we entered.
It all fell quiet. Each pair of eyes was on us as we stood on the threshold. I was probably the one holding us back, not quite sure what to do, how to proceed, Jesus, it looked like they wanted to kill us. Daggers were plummeting into me, slicing me to bits. My blood should've been pouring down my chest by now, but instead it graciously saved that for another day, allowed me to be tortured more. I'd never seen, never felt such disapproval, not even from Slade.
But Robin, ever the gentleman, coaxed me forward. He descended the steps first, and I followed close on his heels, certain that if I allowed too much space between us that a barrier would be created. He would be accepted. I would not be.
We battled through the thick, menacing quiet, and he hopped up onto one of the stools. I slipped, like a snake, into the one next to him, farthest from anyone in the group. The only sound to permeate the room was the snarling of whatever-the-hell was in the frying pan that Beast Boy was tending to, but no one paid any attention to anything but us.
Great welcome, you guys. Maybe they thought that I wanted to be there.
The second I sat, Raven got up and walked out of the room. Her cup was steaming, and I assumed that she was cradling a nest of tea, but I couldn't be sure, she didn't give me enough time to figure it out. She simply stood and floated up the steps, out of the common area. I felt horrible.
"Morning, guys," Robin faux-chirped. Oh God, that was not helping. The intensity of the death stare that Starfire was giving the two of us kicked up a notch when he spoke. Hostility resonated from every pore of her being, she was throwing axes and knives and swords and grenades and nuclear bombs at me in her mind. I could feel all of them penetrate me, explode inside me, dive into my body and slice me open to reveal all of my intentions and everything I'd ever wanted to apologize for. She hated me. The green in her eyes was not just envy; it was steely hate.
No one responded. No one dared say anything. The two boys went back to their work studiously, pretending I wasn't there, but the girl just kept on glaring at me. The scowl on her face made me shiver, shudder, I was honestly quaking in my boots. It wasn't that I was afraid of her right now, here; if she wanted to go, I would've thrown down immediately. It was just more of the fact that she could've and probably would've very well killed me in my sleep.
"Stop it, Star," apparently Boy Wonder caught on. He was leaning toward her slightly, whispering very softly, so softly I thought I shouldn't have heard it, but Slade taught me to enhance my ears. The alien gaped at him for a moment, her jaw barely slack, and then wasted no time in taking flight, anger and hurt pouring from her, and busting it out of there, off to her own abode.
Man, do I know how to clear a room, or what?
My fingers were trying to strangle each other in my lap, and I watched them intently. I wouldn't look up, not if someone paid me, for if I did, I probably would've seen the barrel of Cyborg's sonic cannon pointed right in between my eyes.
But instead, a metal hand simply laid a plate of steaming waffles in front of me. I slowly, cautiously, jerked my head up, and my eyes met his, so warm and brown. The way he looked at me, I could feel it, could feel everything he was thinking simply in one sweep of his gaze. No, he certainly wasn't happy about me being here, and he would've much rather me simply disappear, melt into the oxygen around me. But as long as I was there, as long as Robin allowed me to be under the roof, as long as none of them were in danger, he supposed he could deal with me.
A small smile edged onto his broad, jovial mouth.
I couldn't figure out what to say.
He ducked down, rustled around in a drawer, and extracted something.
"Here," he offered me a metal fork and knife. "You use these to eat 'em." I reached out sluggishly and plucked them from his palm, half afraid that he would snap his fingers around my hand and break it into a million, trillion pieces. But he didn't. He just watched me impale the food, slip my knife through it with caution—I was honestly afraid that there was a nice marbling of poison through that thing—and slowly, ever so slowly, tuck it away between my lips.
When it hit my tongue, I gasped.
"Holy shit," I clapped my hand over my mouth, my eyes bugging wide.
"What?" Robin demanded, and I could feel the tenseness resonating from him. He would kill Cyborg any second, if that's what it entailed.
"These are freaking amazing," I stared at the be-masked boy, utterly struck with complete wonder, I couldn't believe how perfect and flawless these things were. It'd been a while since I'd had really, truly incredible food, as Slade wasn't exactly a chef extraordinaire. I was fed decently, but this…this was bizarre. I'd never had food this good in my entire life.
"What can I say?" Cyborg was beaming as Robin relaxed back into the stool, ravaged his own plate of awesomeness. "Momma taught me well."
Did she ever! Gosh, I couldn't tell you how much I was shoveling down my throat then. I wish I'd had a backhoe; that would've made it easier. Just dump it into my mouth and I would've swallowed it—that's just how I ate. I looked like a ravenous pack of wolves whenever I consumed anything, and now was no different. It was a shocker that there wasn't waffle shrapnel everywhere, but I wanted each and every bite of that delicacy on my tongue.
"Hey, you may want to slow down," the captain recommended. "You could make yourself sick."
"Good," someone snarled. Then, I watched Beast Boy slink quickly toward the door, a plate of white bacon-looking stuff in his grasp.
"Hey!" Cyborg called after him, trotted in his wake, and the green boy sped up his pace of escape. "What was that? Get back here, you booger!" And those two evacuated the room. At least I was on better terms with one than the other.
I forced the load of fluffy batter down my throat. It felt more like torture now then delectable, but I shoved it into my stomach. "I need to leave, Robin."
"Don't worry about them," Robin insisted, and awkwardly hesitated before deciding to rub my shoulder comfortingly. "They'll come around. Beast Boy just…he doesn't like people, that's all. And neither does Raven, which I'm sure is no surprise, and Starfire…well…uh…"
I looked at him dubiously. He was spewing such bullshit right now. Beast Boy loved people, especially those that gave him attention. I was aware that Raven didn't like people, so it didn't sting too much when she'd left, but Starfire…he couldn't even come up with an excuse for her. That's how bad it was. There was no gracious saving grace he could provide me with to clear her name. I didn't want him to even try.
"I can't be tearing your team apart," I told him solemnly, and I knew that was exactly what I was doing. Hell, if I was in Robin's position, I would've kicked me out on my ass so quickly that it wouldn't have time to bruise. I would be out in the cold in under thirty seconds if this was what my team's response was. This was messed up. He couldn't keep me here.
"They'll get used to it," he assured me again. "I promise."
"I don't want them to have to get used to it," I said as I stared at him desperately. "I can't blame them for hating me. I've tried to kill them how many times?—"
"Because Slade ordered you to," he interjected vehemently.
"But I still tried."
"Because you had to."
"That doesn't excuse the fact!"
"Yes it does."
Wow. Robin was pretty much pardoning me for going after his teammates, going after his family. He was basically letting me off the hook.
…What was going on here?
"Here, let me show you to your room," he slipped off the seat, his metal shoes clacked to the floor, and he started off. I sat there dumbly. What was I supposed to do? What I if I went with him? What if I followed? How could I follow Robin? My enemy, my foe, my Robin? My disaster, my complete and utter disaster, how could I follow him? Nothing good could happen, nothing good could come from that perfect disaster in green tights. That spiky hair, that sweet face, that skin like butter—no, no, something was wrong, he couldn't be like this, we were enemies. He knew we were, I knew we were, what was missing here?
"You…you got me a room?" I choked.
From the second step, he turned and grinned at me. "Of course."
My breath stopped for a moment.
I hopped off the stool, crept closer to him, I could feel his heat as I neared him. Perhaps my vision started to blur a little bit, maybe my stomach twisted disgustingly, how could he do this to me? I'd never reacted to anything like this before. I'd always had a psych of steel. I'd killed people before, damn it, I'd done so many horrible things, I'd seen literal pools of blood, I'd seen dismembered body parts, I'd…I…how did he do this? How could he do this?
Robin just continued easily through the doors with his back to me. He was vulnerable. I could kill him now, I could end everything now, I could escape, I could be free I could go back to Slade I could get what I wanted.
And all I noticed was that he had an awfully cute butt.
I was just down the hall from his room, it seemed, because his name was carved into the metal door. It looked so cold, so formal, everything he was. But I saw nothing of that in him. It was the strangest thing, I must say; I saw how he was, but I saw everything else, too. He had other stuff, things that no one else got to witness, and even when he was being his usual self towards me, I could glimpse other things. He was warm. He was sweet. He was kind. He could be casual, he could be simple, he didn't have to over-complicate things all the time. There were quite a few sides to this Boy Wonder, and I pondered how I could peek at them so easily.
The door to my room was blank. How fitting. But when it slipped open, my heart warmed.
It was the most perfect little place ever.
Okay, so it wasn't exactly little. But I could deal with that. I could deal with the high ceiling. I could deal with the long, king-sized bed with the white lace canopy. I could deal with the big fireplace at the far wall. I could deal with the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ice-coated waters. I could deal with the huge closet that was hidden behind a single door. I could deal with this actually being the smallest of all the rooms.
Yeah, I could deal with all that.
Robin glanced over his shoulder at me, a proud smile on his flawless face. "You can go in, you know. It's yours."
It was mine?
"It's mine?" I tested it on my tongue. It didn't burn as much as I thought it would. I slipped into the room—the white area rug was a welcome warmth from the small straight of hardwood that separated the door and the bed—and scuttled toward the mattress. When I sat down on it, the thing bowed only slightly beneath my weight, it felt like a cloud, I would sleep just fine here. The chair that was in front of the fireplace raging with heat, that would be just fine. The cozy feeling of it all, the feeling of being welcomed, that would be just fine.
It was mine?
It was mine.
A/N: …Holy shit. I'm alive? No way! Crazy! Damn guys sorry it took so long. Like literally, I'm very sorry. It' just been a hell of a…well, it's been a hell of a few months. Seriously, I didn't mean to do that. I know I don't have too many readers, but still, for those of you that do read, it was radically unfair. I'll try to be better.
Also, major thanks to EthanPrime21 for calling my story good XD. I KNOW SERIOUSLY there are no RobinxOC stories at all!
SHIT MY FUCKING S KEY BROKE. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.