Author's Introduction:

When last we left our heroes (I love saying that!) Raven and Robin were about to beat the stuffing out of each other in the training room in the middle of the night. With friends like these, who needs enemies?

To Take A Dare

Chapter Two: We Beat Each Other Up Just Like We Always Do

Last night I fell asleep next to a liar

And I woke up with a shiner

And that's all I remember from a night spent lying on my back

With a view of a stone white ceiling and the back of your head

This dark and quiet bed felt like the middle of nowhere.

We beat each other up just like we always do

When talking to myself I'd always rather be talking to you.

(Brand New)

(Sudden Death In Carolina)

Raven was in Robin's arms...

...and he was about to tackle her to the floor.

She was kicking herself for her mistake. Somehow, she hadn't thought he'd really hurt her, hadn't thought he'd really make good on his threat. Luckily, while one foot kicked herself, the other jammed itself against Robin's rock-hard stomach as her back hit the floor. Using his own momentum, she threw him over her head. He'd set himself up for a perfect back sacrifice throw.

To Raven's credit, Robin's masked eyes widened as he sailed over her head, but he wasn't about to be taken out that easily. He simply twisted his body in midair, planted both bare feet on the wall, and sprang back at her, one leg extended from his body in an achingly gorgeous jump kick that connected solidly with Raven's cheek.

"Oof!" Raven ended on the floor. The right side of her face was liquid fire. It would be a thousand terrible colors tomorrow, but maybe the pain would fade into a dull ache by then. At any rate, he'd hit her hard. He wasn't holding anything back.

Good, she thought, and dropped to a crouch, trying to sweep his feet out from under him. He leapt easily over her extended leg, throwing his arms up in an x to block the punch she followed it with as soon as she got to her feet.

But don't worry about my hands, she thought with a small mental smile. That's just to distract you while I do THIS...

And she had angled a kick to his kneecap, knowing full well that if she hit it right she could dislocate it. Her slippered foot connected with his knee but not hard enough to do anything but knock him off balance. She charged him, hoping to press the advantage, and then they were fighting.

Really fighting, grappling, wrestling each other down to the floor. She wasn't Raven any more, nor was he Robin. His movements were just as acrobatic, hers were just as graceful, but they weren't the same Raven and Robin who had stared each other down during the morning's training session. They fought hard, dirty, with elbows and teeth and feet and fists. Never once did Raven's lips move to say a magic word, and Robin's utility belt was forgotten in his room. There were no super powers, no tricks, just two warriors facing off for dominance.

They were equals, finally.

Finally there was a point where Raven seemed to have the upper hand. Robin was lying on his back on the floor and Raven was straddling him, her hands locked around his throat. Both were damp with perspiration and breathing hard from the exertion of their roughhousing. Raven's chest was heaving beneath her black leotard, which was all she had worn to sleep, and she could feel his ribs moving against her bare thighs as he struggled for air.

"Give," Raven panted.

His teeth grit. "No."

"Robin, give!" She tightened her grip on his throat. "There's no way you can win."

Suddenly, he grinned up at her. "No way, eh?"

She tensed, waiting for him to try to scratch his hands from her throat or throw her off him. Instead, his hands found her ribs and tickled, his touch feather-light on her sensitive sides.

Raven screamed in surprise, loosening her grip on his throat and squirming. Robin threw her backwards, and she didn't even try to land properly, body bouncing on the floor. She was unable to control her laughter, clutching at her stomach, her face twisted into a cross between a giggle and a scowl.

Robin rolled to his knees, laughing proudly at his own cleverness. "Gotcha!"

As soon as Raven recovered and regained her feet, she snarled and threw a careless fist in his direction. "Bastard!"

Robin easily blocked the wild punch, but it didn't stop her from throwing another one, and another. She swung once more and he caught her fist in one hand, holding it away from his face.

"You're doing it again," he growled in frustration suddenly, hand locked over hers. "You can hit harder than that, goddamnit!"

Raven's free fist connected solidly with his upper arm. Robin frowned, seemingly unimpressed. "Harder! You can hit harder than that, give me a hit."

Wild-eyed, Raven obeyed with a fist aimed at his face. Robin blocked it with one arm, the impact sending a tremor up to his shoulder.

"Harder," he challenged. "Harder!"

Raven had no idea what he was driving at, but when he growled harder, she obeyed, putting all her weight behind her strikes, her anger bleeding into the blows. Still he remained unimpressed.

"You can hit me harder, Raven—you want to hit me harder! You hate me!" he burst out, crossing his arms once more over his chest to block.

Without warning, it was as if she were looking at them both from above, from outside. Robin looked suddenly small, suddenly uncertain, his arms an x in front of him to protect him from her. She saw him somehow as he saw himself—her friend, a good friend to a girl who for some unknown reason was attacking him. She was so unnerved by the look that her punch went wide, and Robin caught her fist in his hand once again, his face once again wearing that upset, confused look it had worn in the kitchen.

"What?" Raven whispered, her fist still trembling as it tried to get past his strong hand. "What...did you say?"

"You hate me," he repeated, but softer, more unsure. She could see the insecurity in his face for the first time, the way his mouth tucked in at the corners to pout, the way his brow furrowed when something made him unhappy.

Unhappy...

"No," she said, puzzled, guilty. "Robin...that's not true..."

They remained locked like that for a minute, her fist trapped in his hand, neither gaining or losing an inch. Just like that, they were Robin and Raven again, shuddering, exhausted. He tilted his head to gaze at her, as if he'd never seen her before and was trying to understand her fully in one look.

"It's not true," she insisted, more forcefully, almost desperately. She didn't know why she was so intent on him believing that she did not hate him, when just seconds ago she would have loved nothing better than to smash his head into the floor, but the impulse was there, and for once, she didn't repress the feeling—she rode it. Anything to get that hurt expression off his face.

She played a last desperate card.

"Robin—I said Truth—I meant it. I do sing in the kitchen! I wouldn't lie to you."

There was a moment of stillness between them. He still held her hand in his grip, but not that hard. She could have pulled away any time she'd wanted, but something kept her there.

"One?" Robin asked after a small eternity.

Raven nodded. "Two."

"Three," they said together, and then they released each other, wheezing. Robin staggered over to the wall to lean against it as though he were too physically exhausted to stand up on his own. Likewise, Raven dropped to her knees, hands splayed on the floor to hold herself up. For a minute she bowed her head to the padded floor, breathing in the smell of vinyl and hiding behind her short dark hair. Nothing, nothing had ever made her as tired as this...

A hand found its way into her field of vision. It seemed so long since she had seen an open hand, a hand that wasn't curled into a fist...

Slowly, tentatively, she put her own hand inside it.

Robin pulled her to her feet carefully. "Thanks," she said softly.

"Thank you, Raven," he said, shaking his head.

Her violet eyes widened in surprise. "For...what?" she asked, brows crinkled over her eyes.

He bowed his head in a small, respectful nod at her. "For such a good fight. You are a worthy opponent."

She knew what a compliment that was coming from him. She wasn't sure how to respond to him. "I thank you," she finally said lamely.

He nodded, and she turned around to leave the room, unsure of what else to do. Her slippered feet were silent on the padded floor. The sliding door whirred, allowing both darkness from the hallway into the room and Raven out of it. She stood in the entryway for a second, a shadow on the dark of the corridor so that Robin had trouble sorting out the contrast of black on black. She might have been just that, a shadow, if she hadn't spoken.

"Good night, Robin."

He turned that puzzled look on her again, as if her speaking had interrupted him trying to figure her out.

"...Good night, Raven."

Robin was exhausted, and he had had quite a workout.

So why the fuck couldn't he sleep?!

Memories flickered behind his closed eyes. Raven leaving the room after the game of Truth or Dare, never looking back. Raven leaving the room after movies, cloak sweeping behind her. Raven walking out of a dozen rooms, a thousand times, never looking back at them, never saying a word in farewell.

Had Raven ever said good night to him before?

How well she had fought! The evidence of it was tattooed onto his body in bruises that would stain his skin tomorrow. He had never realized Raven's cloak had hidden such a strong, supple body. He had felt how strong her hands were as they had wrapped around his throat; he had felt her solidity, her immobility as she had held him down to the floor, his body trapped between her thighs. He'd never known she was so strong...

Her voice echoed suddenly in his head. You know nothing about me.

She was right.

His lids blinked suddenly, slid down to cover his unmasked eyes. "Good night, Raven..." he murmured.

Meals around Titans' Tower were getting weirder every day, in Cyborg's opinion.

He had just been thankful that dinner hadn't turned into a bloodbath the night before—he was surprised but relieved that Robin and Raven hadn't come to blows over the pizza. For a while it looked as though they were getting there.

But the dark bird wasn't even at the table this morning. Robin was only sort of at the table—Starfire and Beast Boy were staring at the Boy Wonder, whose head was buried in his arms. He was snoring.

"Rob?" Cyborg asked, knocking gently on Robin's brow with metal knuckles. Robin lifted his head from the table. The shadows under his eyes were so dark he looked like a linebacker, and deep enough that the mask couldn't hide them. His hair was tousled, his face pale save for a red crease on his cheek, folded into his skin from sleeping on his arm. He looked as though he'd been in the spin cycle.

"Wakey wakey," Cyborg chuckled. "Eggs and bakey."

"Man, Robin, didn't you get any sleep at all last night?" Beast Boy asked.

Robin frowned. "I think it's obvious that I didn't?"

Starfire frowned as well, her springtime eyes filling with concern for her friend. "Robin, was your sleep troubled? Did you have a bad dream?"

Robin buried his head in his arms again. His voice was muffled as he said, "It wasn't a bad dream, Star."

Starfire placed a gentle hand on the back of Robin's neck, and the Boy Wonder cringed, wincing as though it pained him to be touched. Beast Boy saw it and frowned, but Cyborg's voice interrupted whatever he was about to say.

"Mornin', Rave Master," he called towards the door. "How about some bacon?"

Raven appeared in the doorway, her cloak covering her from throat to ankle, her hood drawn over her head so that only sleepy violet eyes burned from its dark. "Mmm."

"Good morning, Raven!" Starfire chirped.

The dark bird waved a hand weakly and levitated towards her chair, using her powers to steal a piece of toast off Beast Boy's plate. "Oh yeah? What's so Raven about it?"

Beast Boy laughed at Raven's quip, not realizing that a piece of his toast had turned black with dark energy and floated across the table.

"Did you have a restless night, too, Raven?" Starfire inquired politely. "Was your mind troubled?"

"My mind is never troubled," Raven answered, but groggily.

Cyborg laughed and slid a plate to Raven. She nodded at him. "Thank you, Cyborg."

Beast Boy blinked down at his plate, wondering where his remaining piece of toast had gone. "You're rather cheerful this morning, Raven. Should we be worried things are going to blow up?" He chuckled at his own joke, immediately adding a disclaimer so as not to ruffle the dark bird's feathers. "I'm kidding, Rave. You want more toast?"

Robin had turned his head, resting his cheek on his arm so that he could see everyone at the table. He had been staring at a piece of bacon as if he were wondering why it wasn't making its way into his mouth on its own, but right now he gazed at Raven sleepily, a question in his face. However, Beast Boy, oblivious to most things beyond his plate, interrupted before it could be asked.

"Didn't I have three pieces of toast?" he wondered aloud, glancing around the table, his eyes finally coming to rest on Raven, whose immediate attention was commanded by her own dish. "You know, Raven, it's pretty rude of you to wear that hood at the table!"

Raven looked up from her plate of bacon and eggs, an alarm ringing in her eyes. "Um..."

"Yes, Raven, why do you wear your hood at the table?" Starfire wondered aloud. "Will you not show your face to us this morning?"

"Mind your own—" Raven began, but Beast Boy grinned slyly. Transforming into a squid, he reached stealthily behind her with a tentacle and yanked the hood down off her head.

Starfire gasped; Cyborg dropped the plate of eggs to the table with a clatter. Even Beast Boy was shocked back into human form. Robin's head jerked up from his arm, the eyes behind the mask gone wide with shock.

"What?" Raven asked crossly, glaring at Beast Boy.

It was Cyborg who answered. "...It's your face, Rae. Who did that to your face?"

Robin was still staring at Raven in disbelief. The right side of her face was ghastly, decorated in shades of black and purple. He remembered being thrown to the wall, springing back, a spin kick—

Oh, Raven—I'm sorry—

Raven drew her hood back over her head. "May I have some more bacon?" she asked, indicating that the discussion was closed.

"But Raven," Starfire asked. "How did you—"

"It's fine," Raven pressed. "Cyborg? Bacon?"

"Raven—" Starfire continued.

"Leave her alone, Star," Robin snapped suddenly, and the Tamaranean looked hurt.

Cyborg slid Raven more bacon.

"Who's on dish duty?" Beast Boy asked when breakfast had been more or less decimated. A look of sadness weighed his face down. "Please say it isn't me."

Cyborg looked at a list posted near on the refrigerator. "Rave's doing dishes this week."

"Joy," Raven muttered. But she got up and began to clear the table.

"Why don't you just say a few magic words and float 'em towards the sink?" Beast Boy asked, waving his arms dramatically. "You know, azalea metrosexual zebra."

Raven didn't laugh, but a ghost of a smile did play around her lips. "Sometimes I just like to touch things. To...feel them."

"Who's a metrosexual zebra?" Cyborg asked, turning from the fridge. "Rob, you up for some Streets of Rage? I'll let you be Axl."

"No, I—I want to help Raven with the dishes," Robin said, pushing his chair back from the table.

"But you don't have dish duty till two weeks from now," Beast Boy said, glancing at the list.

"I don't need any help," said Raven, walking towards the sink. "Go play your game."

"No. I want to help," he insisted, giving Raven a we-need-to-talk look.

Raven frowned, giving him an I-was-hoping-to-avoid-that-exact-scenario look. "Do what you will." She turned her back on the room, muttering something about "stubborn mules".

"I'll play with you, Cyborg," Beast Boy offered. "We'll lay the smackdown on those digital punks!"

"You know it, BB," Cyborg laughed, turning to the Tamaranean. "Hey Star, wanna play? We'll hook up the three-way."

"I always wanted to hook up in a three-way with you, Star," Beast Boy teased cheekily, and Cyborg elbowed him but grinned.

Starfire looked briefly troubled, but she nodded. "Yes, I shall join in the three-way smacking-down with you...unless Robin and Raven need some help?"

Raven frowned. "I think I've got more help than I know what to do with."

"I never saw so many people want to do dishes!" Beast Boy said. "You guys don't know the meaning of fun. Let's get out of here and play video games before I start wanting to do dishes."

"Last one there's a metrosexual zebra!" Cyborg jogged out of the room.

Star looked confused, but followed quickly, saying, "And this is a bad thing?"

Just like that, Robin and Raven were once again alone. Robin still wasn't sure why he was nervous about it, but one look at her replaced the anxiety with guilt. She was at the sink, stacking dishes slowly as if she were tired. He had a perfect view of her profile, of a sweet rounded jaw that would never betray how stubborn she could be, of the spill of her hair around the curve of cheek and chin, of the bruise that scarred the quiet beauty of that face. How could you? It seemed to ask. How could you?

"I'll wash, you dry?" Raven asked, turning towards Robin with a white dishcloth in her hand.

Robin stared at the dishcloth as though it were alive. "Huh...?"

Raven shook the cloth for emphasis, waving it at him like a flag of surrender. "To dry the dishes. Or weren't you serious about helping me?"

Robin reached out, but instead of taking the dish towel from her, he slid the hood off her head, like a groom lifting the veil from his bride. "I'm...I'm sorry, Raven, I'm so—"

He had one hand cupped around her shoulder, but she turned from him, twisting the tap and tossing the dish towel on the sideboard. "Just forget it, okay? It doesn't even hurt."

"No," he growled, his voice rough without his consent. "I mean..." He tried to soften his voice. "I...look, when we were in the training room last night, I didn't have any idea I'd hit you that hard."

Oddly enough, Raven looked a little pleased. "I'd have been mad if you hadn't given the fight your all." She reached out to him and pressed down hard on his neck with both hands.

"Ah," Robin growled, the pain of his bruises throbbing.

"After all," Raven continued calmly, releasing him. "I did."

Robin sighed, rubbing his bruises with one hand. "You fought well. I told you that."

Raven nodded. "I remember." She reached out for him and he flinched back in anticipation of more pain. She frowned, her mouth tucking at the corners, and reached again. "Come here. I won't hurt you."

Robin willed himself to be still as she touched him again, her hands sliding around his neck as they had the night before, but gently this time, not to hurt him.

There was a strange light in her eyes as her hands stroked just over his damaged skin. She looked as though she were listening for something, as her eyes looked on unseeing.

Her hands were blessedly cool. He'd always imagined everything about Raven to be cold, but it wasn't uncomfortable to be touched by her. He wished he hadn't hit her so hard...all he had wanted was for her to rise to his challenge, because he had known she could. And she had...

Her eyes slid closed, as if she'd found what she was looking for, and suddenly the pain flared brighter for a second before dulling and disappearing completely.

"There." She lifted her hands from his neck. "Better?"

"...Yes." He stretched his neck, listening to the bones pop. "Much better. Thanks, Raven." His face darkened suddenly. "What about you?"

"What about me?" she asked.

"I mean this—" He reached out to cup her bruised cheek in his hand. "This bruise—"

"What bruise?" she asked, shrugging out of his grip to reveal a pale, perfect face.

Robin was almost annoyed. She'd managed to surprise him once again. "How did you—?"

"Dry." She shoved the dishcloth into his chest.

Pouting, Robin began to dry the dishes she handed him. "I'll dry if you tell me how you did that."

"Did what?" she asked, soaping a glass.

"Healed your bruises."

"Why don't you ask me how I healed yours?" she asked.

"Because I already know how you healed mine," he said. "You've done it before. But I've never seen you do it for yourself. Why didn't you do it last night?"

"I couldn't do it last night," she said, swiping a sponge over a plate. "It doesn't work that way."

"How does it work?" Robin asked.

She arched a brow at him, pausing momentarily in her efforts. "It's a gift, Robin," she said simply. "It's meant to be given away."

His face softened, his hand rising to his neck once more. "But you healed yours, too."

She smiled, suddenly, a rare occurrence. It changed her already arresting face wonderfully for the better, he thought. The angles in her face softened, a little light shimmered through her dark eyes, and she became a girl instead of a riddle. "That was your gift."

"I don't get it," he said helplessly.

She turned back to the dishes, handing him another glass to dry. "Maybe someday you will get it," was all she said. "Until then, you won't."

He watched her for a second, watched the curve of her cheek shining like pearl in the morning light from the window.

"What?" he asked finally, to lighten the mood. "No singing?"

Without warning, the water in the sink sizzled with dark energy and splashed him. He chuckled, wiping his eyes to see Raven's perfect frown once again secure on her face. Seeing her powers act up and her familiar expression return reminded him of the question he had wanted to ask her at the breakfast table before Beast Boy had started cracking jokes.

"Everyone knows how your powers act up when you're angry, Raven," he mused, folding the damp dishcloth and hanging it on its rack beside the sink. "How do they react when you're happy?"

Raven tilted her head to one side, her twilight eyes darkening with some emotion he couldn't place. Her voice was completely flat as she said. "Make me happy sometime, and maybe you'll find out."

With that, she turned in a graceful swirl of cloak and left the room without a backwards glance, as was her custom. Robin was left alone at the sink, unable to stop a smile from creeping slowly up his face, starting at his lips and continuing behind his masked eyes.

Was that a challenge he'd just heard?

"You're on, Raven," he murmured.

Author's Notes:

Woo hoo! I wrote another chapter. (starts to dance a little.) It's a little bit harder to update lately since my computer blew up. I'm coming at you live from my laptop right now.

Reviews would make me smile! They would also help me finish writing this story. Anybody got anything they want to see more of? Less of? Suggestions? Comments? Questions? I'll take anything. (smiles encouragingly.) I also wanted to thank everyone for reading the first chapter—I was so pleased to see so many positive comments!

As always, Cloudwalker is the best human ever for reading everything I send her, which includes story bits and long emails talking about stupid people/my job/stupid people/men and how they drive me crazy/comics/cartoons (smile)

Plus, to Writer's Slush: Good call! You are absolutely right. I meant to say that Raven had touched down and was standing on the ground when Robin swept her feet out from under her. I hope it wasn't too confusing! My bad.

On "Streets of Rage": I loved to play "Streets of Rage" with my sister (who reminds me of Blackfire in some odd way) when we were kids. Our favoritewas "Streets of Rage 2". I was always Blaze. She was Skate. We rocked at it. My Sega broke so we can't play anymore (sad face) I'm thinking of buying a new one just so we can play again.

Next chapter: Robin racks his brain trying to think of a way to meet Raven's "challenge"—a challenge that she doesn't even realize she's given him!