Author's Notes:

Shout Outs:

RandomDalmatian326 – Glad you're having a good time. Hope the vibes don't make you all 'splodey. Today's offering should be right up your alley.

Dragonkyng – Finally.

TripleTheCheese – Me, too. But I broke Chekov's law, and had to pay the penalty.

Lord Vukodlak – Oh, there's an emergency shower, but it discharges directly in the workspace to a floor drain. It would make a giant mess if used casually.

The Fat Lantern – Glad to hear from you again. Yeah, the default passwords solution came from the day job, where I run into it from time to time in my consulting.

Reader123 – Yeah – The Titan's ages are not consistent through the story. It's not all carelessness; I realized that I was aging them too quickly ,and didn't clean up by after myself after I made some corrections.

HinaLuvLuvChan – Whohoo! Crying readers! One of the greatest accomplishments of a writer. Right after getting paid.

Reader12 (Again) – Great to hear from you. Glad you're liking it.

Huntress of the Shadows – Yeah. That's life, y'know? Douchbags don't ever seem to get all that's coming to them. I still think my zombies should have been grosser.

Shadico – Really, gross enough? I'm glad you liked the stuff I wrote for the Beast. And yeah, Bumblebee does not mince words.

shugokage – Thanks. It was actually inspired by post band competition trips. Not nearly as stressful as fighting for your life, but getting up before dawn, traveling a long distance, and giving an all-out performance at the very top of your skill set, and then getting back on a bus produces a similar set of exhaustion. I just remember the bus full of teenagers draped all over each other, no longer caring about who was looking at what, and just wanting to sleeeeeep . . . .

JOHNXgambit – Precisely. A sort of "MY HOUSE! Anybody have a problem with that?" sort of thing.

Sergeant Daniel - You're probably right. I've got some really poniant scenes in my head, but we're coming to a close.

Guest – You're very kind. We've got at least 4 -5 chapters left. I'll wrap things up neatly and then there will be a haitus while I pursue another project.

V for Anonymous – Thanks. I considered a Changeling vs. Immortus fight, but two things stopped me. First I was sick of action scenes. Second, Immortus is a tactical and strategic genius. But he's an old man. Changeling would snap him like a twig. Not much of a fight scene. Then I remembered how the old serial adventure stories used to end. Immortus pulled a "Ming the Merciless."

BBLover – A fairly simple one.

I' . –Glad you like it.

Justafly – Okay, that's new. First time anyone's told me I'm doing a great job, and they're not going to follow me any more. What's up with that? Ah well.

From the Author:

I had a lot of fun writing this one. As you may have guessed, I like writing shower scenes, so you're getting another one. We have an off-screen cameo by Chef Blackstock again, just because I like his attitude. Then I think I may surprise you. Raven's going to bust out a skill-set we haven't seen before that makes perfect sense for her background. She's an incredibly intelligent women. Did she spend 13 years in/on Azarath and learn nothing but meditation? I don't think so.

Looking ahead: Raven makes a big mistake. Mumbo-Jumbo makes a personal appearance in an unexpected venue. A giant fist fight in a location you'll never expect between people that will flabbergast you. A stolen vehicle. Then Raven fixes her mistake. All in the same chapter so you people won't get bent at me for jerking you around.

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?

I do." – Lamont Cranston

When the vertijet landed at Titan Tower, the Titans immediately split up to their own rooms. Raven walked into her room and stripped out of the filthy leotard and walked over to her full-length mirror. She looked at herself dispassionately. Coldly. Dispassionately. Her feet were small, but slightly long for her height. Elegant, she was forced to admit. Her eyes traveled upward. Allowing for the dried zombie spooge on her legs, they had filled out nicely. Her hips flared out in a suitable girly fashion, and her waist nipped in below her breasts. The hair on her mons was sparse, and matched the purple of her hair and eyebrows. Her breasts were small but full, and rode high on her chest. Her arms were shapely her neck elegant, and her face was, well, reserved. She desperately needed a shower and to wash her hair. But she'd slept on the plane and was, by and large feeling pretty good, even though it was getting on toward evening. She licked her lips nervously.

She grabbed a large lavender bath sheet from her closet and wrapped it modestly around her torso. Bath sheets are huge, and Raven was small. It covered her from her from her armpits to just above her knees. She walked across and down the hall, and knocked on Changeling's door.

"Oh, Hi Raven."

"Hi," she said quietly.

Changeling continued, "You want to grab the shower first? You got the worst of the flying zombie spooge."

"I feel like an idiot," she thought. But she considered about how she'd seen Starfire interact with Robin. She looked down at the floor. Her silken hair framed her face as she looked up at him through her hair.

"Well, actually, I was thinking you might come help me."

"I – wah?"

"Well, I've got his crap all over me, and I need someone to wash my back."

"But, Starfire . . ."

"Starfire," she said shyly, "and Robin are both, um, busy."

He gathered himself.

"You sure?" he smiled.

"Well," she said, looking up, "we've showered together before you know."

"I remember," he grinned toothily.

"Perv," she said, but she smiled as she said it.

"Lemme grab a towel."

The couple walked quickly to the bathroom they shared, and walked inside. Raven turned on the incandescent lights by the mirror, but left the big fluorescents off. Changeling raised an eyebrow.

Raven smiled a small, lopsided smile. "I'm, um, pale enough already. Florescent light washes the grey out of my skin, and leaves me looking like a corpse. I figure you've seen enough of them for one day."

He smiled. "You look good in any light."

"I sure hope so," she thought.

As he had so long ago, he leaned into the spacious shower and adjusted the water.

"Let me know if it's too hot or too cold," he said, quietly.

"Right," she said. And swallowed nervously.

Then Raven dropped her towel.[1]

Changeling's jaw dropped. His eyes bugged out.

"What?" ask Raven, innocently.

"I, you, I expected underwear, or . . . or a bathing suit, or . . . something."

"Why?" She asked. We've showered together before. We've shared a bed for weeks. And you've seen me naked before. Don't think I've forgotten the time you took advantage of me in that cave in Siberia and stripped all my clothes off."

Her eyes twinkled.

"I did not! Well, I mean, I did, but I didn't. But . . ."

Changeling was having a hard time forming an argument. Or a coherent thought. The proximity of the cute naked girl was making it impossible for him to focus on anything else.

"It wasn't like that!" he finally managed.

Raven snorted. Then a tiny, almost inaudible giggle drifted through the room. She covered her mouth. "You really shouldn't leave that chain lying around like that if you don't want people yanking on it."

She stepped into the shower and leaned out the door.

"Coming?"

After a moment's consideration, Changeling stripped off his Incredible Hulk boxes and joined Raven under the streaming hot water. Steam rose, filling the bathroom. Raven slid by Changeling, brushing her body against him as she claimed the privilege, "Ladies first," and stepped under the water.

The hot steaming waters flowed over her head, turning her purple hair almost black. The water cascaded over her, sweeping away the dried sweat of the Central American jungle, and more importantly, the dried blood and ichor spattered on Raven by a host of zombies.

"Shampoo," she said, holding out a hand.

He continued to boggle for a moment, then, "Oh, right. He turned to grab the bottle, neatly labeled, "Raven's. Beast Boy – do not touch," and handed it to her.

The water ran over her head to part briefly over her Chakra stone, and then down over her face. Knots in her hair that Changeling couldn't see began to let loose. Raven inhaled and breathed a deep sigh of contentment. Her breasts rose as water ran down her slender body. Changeling swallowed. The she leaned back farther to rinse.

"Azar! That felt good. She parted her hair down the center and pushed it behind her ears and looked up at him.

"Poofy?" she said.

"Um, no, your hair's lying straight down."

She sighed. "No, I mean HAND me my shower poofy."

He turned to look behind him.

"Oh, the scrubby thing."

It was, of course, lavender.

She squeezed a generous dollop of shower gel onto it and rubbed it briskly. White suds began to form and run over her wrist. She worked the foam over her skin on both arms, her chest, and torso.

She smiled a tiny Raven smile. "'Scuse me. A girl's got have a little privacy."

She turned her back to him and did mysterious things to her front, the leaned over to work her legs. The water ran down over her birthmark and over the curve of her full, rounded ass. Changeling looked closer.

"Hey Raven," he said. "About this birthmark. It looks . . ."

She spun suddenly and handed him the scrubby. "Get to work," she said, and smiled.

Bemused, he held the scrubby under the hot water and soaped it back up.

She leaned forward and put her hands against the wall as he soaped up her back. He started in the center of her back and scrubbed in ever expanding circles. Then he worked her shoulder blades.

"The back of my neck," she said, lifting her head.

"But you,"

"You're going to turn me down?"

"Um, no."

"Mmmmm. Lower."

Obediently he swirled the coarse scrubby in wide circles around her back, lower down.

"That just about does it, Raven," he said, with reluctance. No more zombie goo to be seen, dry or, um, moist."

She sighed. Without turning, she said, "You don't think I'm . . . too . . . gross do you?'"

"What?" he said, still rubbing. "That makes no sense."

"Mmmmm," she said. "Lower. You know what I mean. I guess, I mean, I'm just imagining that you must have showered with Mitzi, or Fritzi, or Agnes? At some point?"

"' A gentleman does not discuss such things.'"

"Fair enough, but, you know, in theory, I have a hard time imagining any of them being, well, covered in zombie goo. I'm not, you know, gross, am I? I mean, if it's not zombie goo, it's alien space dog slobber or giant mutant moth spooge, or something from Starfire's lunchbox."

"What? No! You're compelling. I don't think I've ever seen a woman look better covered in rotten zombie blood. Really."

"Thanks." She said, and turned to look at him over her shoulder.

"What?" He said, distractedly.

"Changeling, that feels great, but you can probably stop washing my ass now."

"Oh!" He yanked his hand away, soapsuds splattering. "Sorry."

She winked. Raven actually winked.

"It's okay. I enjoyed it."

"Raven, what's going on? I mean, I think I know what's going on, but this isn't like you. Are you ok?"

Raven sighed and dropped her head. "I'm sorry. I suck at this. I'm just . . . trying to have fun, and I've never really . . . even tried to do something like this before. I don't DO fun. And I certainly don't . . . flirt."

"NO!" he interrupted. "You don't suck at all. I just. That is. Um. Not to put too fine a point on it, but, you are, well, sober, right?"

She smiled and colored slightly. "Yes," she said as she looked up. "I'm sober. Now you get clean."

As she stepped behind him her wet breasts brushed against his back. He grinned toothily.

"Yes, ma'am."

Changeling made quick work of scrubbing off the sweat, grass stains, and zombie goop from his hair and body.

"Okay," she said. "Now turn around."

He turned and she reached up to start with his neck and shoulders. The soap foamed up some more.

"Wow," she thought, as she began to work on his shoulder. "I've really lost perspective, hanging out with Cyborg. He may not be as big as Cy, or Robin, but he's not small. He's sure bigger than me. And strong."

She set aside the scrubby and dug her fingers into his shoulders.

"Wow," she said. "You've really got some knots in here.

"Yeah," he said. "That business right at the end of the fight kinda took it out of me. Still trying to let go of all the tension. I hate using that form. I always end up confused and really sore."

She laughed. "I can't do anything about the confusion, but I tell you what: after we dry off, I'll see what I can do about the 'sore' part."

She grabbed the scrubby again.

"Now hold still."

She went work on his shoulder blades and down his spine.

"Oh man," he thought, "That feels good."

Then she grinned a dark little grin, and ran the scrubby between his ass cheeks.

"Gahhh!" he said, and his eye bugged out.

She opened the shower door.

"Finish rinsing and come dry my back."

"Bossy much?"

She flushed maroon. "Sorry."

He grinned. "Just a sec."

He closed the door, morphed into a terrier, shook himself mostly dry, and morphed back.

"Nice trick."

"Saves on laundry."

She toweled off her hair first, her damp skin glistening in the warm light. Changeling licked his lips.

"Turn around," he said.

The iridescent droplets shone line diamonds on her pale flesh in the soft light of the room. He toweled them off with some small regret.

She wrapped her hair in a smaller towel, her breasts rising again as she lifted her arms over her head. She turned to face him, taking the bath sheet from his hands.

"I guess you like me," she said, glancing down.

"The phrase," he said, with great asperity, is "'I see you're glad to see me.' I just showered naked with a beautiful girl. I make no apologies. And I'm too old go diving for towels."

"Fair enough," she grinned.

"So what now?" he said. "This seems to be your party."

"Go change into something loose and comfortable, and meet me in my room. Don't wear anything with elastic."

"Why?"

"I told you: I'm going to do something about those knots."

Bemused, Changeling returned to his room. With the elastic prohibition, his choices were limited. After a few minutes searching, he decided on the bottom half of a martial arts gi and a t shirt. Then he headed back to Raven's room.

He raised his hand and tapped quietly on her door. Her voice sounded softly from within.

"Come in."

He came in the door and stopped. The room was normally dimly lit, but this was, different. Raven had lit a dozen candles that bathed the room in a warm, golden light, utterly unlike the gray light that normally filled the room. The warm light put gentle highlights on Raven's normally disturbing artwork. Her taste in ravens, demon-masks, and the assorted bizarre was oddly softened by the gentle light.

Raven stood by her bed near the head. Her hair was pulled back in a tiny pony tail and she wore a black satin robe that broke about mid thigh.

"Hi again," she smiled.

"Um. Hi."

There was a large, flat, white box resting on a small chest at the foot of Raven's bed. Beside it were two large-bowl wineglasses and an open bottle of red wine.

"Um, Raven? Where did all that come from?"

She replied, "I called ahead for it. MRE's may be filling, but they're not "food." Chef Blackstock still feels like he owes us a favor. The wine was his idea. He says it's a 'shiraz.' His note says it will be able to hold it's own with the Italian pie." She smiled. "I don't think he was capable of writing the word 'pizza.'"

"That guy's going to get arrested if he keeps feeding alcohol to minors."

Raven responded, "I can practically hear him now, 'shut up and drink your wine like a civilized human being. Two glasses of wine each is hardly going to send you on a drunked rampage."

"So – what's in the box?" asked Changeling.

"I wanted something special, but simple. He said on the phone he would make an exception just for us."

Inside the box was a thin, neopolitan-style pizza.

Changeling sniffed. "Mmmmm. Tomatoes, mozzarella cheese, San Marzano tomatoes, and . . ."

He sniffed again, "Geeze. I think that's actual mozzarella di bufala campnana! Raven . . . I think that's a sixty-dollar pizza."

"When did you become such a gourmet?"

"I'm not. But," he tapped his nose, "The nose, knows."

They ate dinner and drank the bitter wine in quiet companionship, talking in low tones about the recent adventure. Raven reclined on the foot of her bed, her feet curled under her short satin robe. Changeling sat on the floor looking up at her. Raven was slightly discomfited. She hadn't realized it before, but Changeling always looked her directly in the eye. Well, when he wasn't looking at her chest, anyway. Most people avoided eye-contact with her. She smiled. Time to dust off a very old skill-set.

Raven lifted a remote. From a hidden sound system began a soft, low, flute, playing a simple pentatonic tune. The sound of gentle rain softly filled the background.

"Lie down," she said. "On your stomach. I really should be using a table, but I think the bed is firm enough."

"Wait," he said, "you're a massagist?"

She closed her eyes as though pained. "Masseuse. And yes. I spent the first thirteen years of my life in a monastery. Did you think I spent it all learning to meditate? You think I'm that slow a student?"

"No, of course not. But – nobody touches Raven. Well, almost nobody. I'm just surprised."

She sighed. "I shouldn't complain. I never tell anybody anything about myself. How could I expect you to know? Ok, so, like most monastic traditions, the monks of Azarath recognized the three sides to person: the mind, the body, and the spirit. So, study, exercise, and meditation are all required for a balanced whole. Massage is part of the study of the body. That's also where the healing comes from."

"Phyical, huh? So, is there a mysterious Azarathian Kung-Fu we don't know about?"

She shook her head. "You know better. My teachers were pacifists to a fault. We studied an art similar to tai chi, but with no combat form. Or if there was one, I never heard of it. Of course, I . . . left long before I could have become an adept. My training's actually only about a third of the way done. Enough of that. Lose the shirt and lie down."

She'd removed the duvet, so he lay down on the sheets, face down. He gathered a couple of pillows and folded his arms, laying his head on his arms.

"What's with the water?" he asked, as he glanced at her bedside table.

"It's a warm water bath for my oil. I selected grapeseed oil for you with sandalwood. It's a nice, masculine scent. I hope the scent's not too strong for you."

She rubbed the warm oil into her hands, then kneeling on the bed, put both hands on the small of his back. Alternating her hands back and forth across his back, she gently spread the oil across his back, and all the way up to his neck. The she moved to the head of the bed and knelt above him, a knee to either side of his head. She placed her palms gently on the back of his neck and slid them down and back, spreading his muscles along the tops of his shoulder blade with her thumbs. One. Two. Three strokes. Then she placed both hands flat against his back, between his shoulder blades and pushed her hands back toward his feet, in a long, continuous stroke all the way down his back, until the tips of her fingers barely went into his pants at the curve of his ass. Then a second stroke, along the same pattern, but with her weight on her thumbs, providing firm, but not hard pressure.

Changeling sighed and his back muscles already began to break loose. Raven's room was warm and her hands were strong. His skin seemed to almost tingle as her hands ran along his frame.

Raven ran her left thumb and hand down the left side of Changeling's spine, digging in her thumb ever so lightly. Then she pulled her left arm back and repeated the motion with her right. She repeated the strokes, again and again, moving a little more quickly. Then she slid backwards and move around to his left side. Working with her whole hands, flat, she stroked down from his neck, one hand after the other, slowly. Then she started the stroke again, pressing down with splayed fingers. He sighed again.

"Hmmm," she murmured.

"What?"

"Oh, sorry. Just thinking. You've got a big knot in your trapezius here. Try to relax."

Raven placed her hand broadly over the offending knot and pressed gently. She rubbed her hand in a small circle, then wider, her other hand on top, generating more pressure.

"Ah," he said.

"Sorry," she replied.

"No, it's okay. Don't stop. I was just surprised."

Placing her small hands back over the offending knot, Raven pressed down firmly, just short of the point of pain, and held it for about thirty seconds. Then she released it. She rubbed in circles again for a moment, then pressed and held again. After repeating the pattern five times, she was rewarded with a sharp, sudden sigh from Changeling. Changeling suddenly felt an unexpected warmth spread through his shoulder as the knot let go. Once the knot released, she returned to the edge of his shoulder blade and repeated her open handed strokes, this time going from the edge to the spine. She switched to the other shoulder and then worked her way down his back in long, gentle strokes until she reached the small of his back. Each time she found a knot, she repeated the press-and-release pattern. As each knot let go, Changeling sighed again.

She turned the waistband of his gi down, revealing the crack of his ass. She threw one leg over his thighs and kneeled over his back. Resting her palms on his ass cheeks, she pushed her weight down on her thumbs and brushed them up toward the small of his back in alternating strokes. She moved again, back to his left side, and using her entire hands, flat, she performed alternating strokes across the small of his back, working her way up his spine. She then did three or four long, slow strokes, pushing her thumbs up the outside of his spine. She kneaded his back muscles on both sides his spine in the soft tissue between his ups and his floating ribs. She found fewer knots here, but remained astonished at home firm his muscles were. She gentle worked the muscles over his rib cage and then went back to his neck. Spreading her fingers, she pressed and kneaded gently around and in between each of his vertebrae. Once that was done, she started back up at his neck and stroked her hand from neck to butt, one, two, three, four, five times. At the end of the last stroke, she took her fingers free of his back and cast them in the four cardinal directions.

"Okay," she said, "Now I need you to turn over an lose the pants.

"Um, okay. But you said 'no elastic,' so, um, I'm . . . commando."

"Changeling, we just showered together. Unless there's something you're not telling me, there shouldn't be any new."

"I know, I just . . . I didn't want you to be . . . surprised."

He remained tense, so she covered his groin with a small towel, and he began to relax some more. She worked his legs, his arms, and his torso with the same expertise that she'd displayed on his back. Time passed, and she released more knots and trigger points until he lay, limp and utterly relaxed.

She sat back, heaved a sigh, and wiped her forehead.

"Done," she said. "That was a lot more work than I expected."

Silence.

"Changeling?"

Silence. She moved back up to the head of the bed. His head had flopped to one side. He was breathing deeply and evenly. A tiny stream of drool leaked out of the corner of his mouth. A small snore emerged. Raven's head dropped onto her chest.

"Of course," she thought. "Get a man completely relaxed, and what does he do? He falls asleep."

She leaned over next to his ear.

"Changeling?" she whispered.

Silence.

"Changeling," she whispered a little louder, poking his shoulder.

Silence.

"Beast Boy!" she snapped, shaking him.

His eyes popped open and he sat up sharply.

"Aw man, tell me I didn't fall asleep."

"Okay," she said dryly, "I won't tell you that you fell asleep."

There was a pause. "Sorry Raven. I've just never been so relaxed in my life. I'm sorry I missed part of it."

She smiled, wiping the sweat off her face again.

"It's okay. It's kind of a compliment."

"Your turn," she said.

"What?"

"Hey – I fought yesterday, too. Then I rode for seven hours on a hard, lumpy seat."

"Hey now. YOU picked the lap. And who's fault was it that it was lumpy?"

She turned maroon again.

"Never mind that."

She slowly slid the satin robe down her body. Again nude, she stretched out on the bed.

"Not the sandalwood. The jasmine for me."

[1] This is known as "hitting a boy in the face with a baseball bat." While certain to get his attention, most flirting authorities consider it to lack subtlety and style. Also sometimes referred to as "pitching overhand," or "hitting with a 200 pound tuna."