Yay! It's Chapter 4! Thanks, to those of you who reviewed Ch. 3. I was really nervous about it. I am, of course, equally nervous about this chapter, in which things get a bit…dramatic. I'm looking to wrap the story up in 6 chapters now, but who knows where my romantic little heart will take me…

Oh, I'm assuming everyone who reads this has seen Date with Destiny. If not…Kitten was a villain's daughter who forced Robin to go to prom with her, and Star was…not thrilled.

I'm also assuming that Robin had a brother. I think I got this from Batman Forever. Forgive me if I'm wrong.

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans, but I do own one of those nifty tube scarves that you can stretch sideways over your shoulders into a shawl…magic, I'm telling you.

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Robin stopped breathing. He had to have heard her wrong. She couldn't be asking him to dance with her, in her room, in the middle of the night, with the moon shining down on them…he thought absently that he'd had a dream exactly like this once…maybe that's what was going on. A dream. He'd fallen asleep at ten while watching Three's Company reruns, and none of this was actually happening. Slowly, he raised his hand and pinched his upper arm. "Ow," he exclaimed dully, hardly aware of the pain through his delirium.

She was looking at him curiously, leaning forward with one tiny eyebrow raised expectantly. Vaguely, he became aware that she was waiting for an answer. He blinked rapidly, his eyes beginning to water from staring blankly at her, and tried to answer her. When he found that he was unable to use his voice, he acquiesced by gingerly taking her hand instead.

And then they stood, holding hands in the middle of Starfire's feather-covered room, doing nothing but looking at each other in silence. Star noticed his discomfort and smiled patiently.

"Are you not going to lead me now?"

"Huh?" She must be crazy. He could barely stand at the moment, let alone lead her. She was the one who still had her wits about her.

"Or at least provide us with music, as you did before. Otherwise, it would seem that we have no justifiable reason to dance, having no music. However…" she continued, her eyes sparkling through demurely lowered lashes, "I would find such a situation most disappointing. I…enjoyed dancing…"

She did?

"…with you."

With him? Robin glanced at her, and then looked at the floor in confusion. He'd figured she hadn't given the night of their dance a second thought. Sure, she'd been a bit…aggressive toward the girl who'd made him her unwilling prom date. But that was just because Kitten had been evil; just another villain that Star was trained to fight and to distrust. Plus, Star had always been rather possessive of him. He was her very first friend on Earth, and as such, he knew he was special to her. She never made any secret of her particular attachment to him. As a best friend. She was just very protective of her friends; that was all.

Through his hazy thoughts, he remembered that he was still standing in the middle of Star's room, holding her hand and saying nothing. Hastily, he began to hum, using the same melody as before and working it into a waltz rhythm. Then, finding his courage and balance, he spun her under his arm, caught her with his other hand just under her shoulder blades, and began waltzing with her in a box step automatically.

Star looked surprised, and she had every reason to be. Robin had never told anyone of his knowledge of ballroom dance; it wasn't something he went around bragging about. It was a part of his old life at Wayne Mansion that he'd been more than glad to leave behind him. Bruce had forced him to learn countless steps of varying degrees of complexity – he'd said they would improve his footwork and confidence in battle. Robin had, of course, explained that he would much rather jump off the roof. But Bruce could be pretty…persuasive, and despite his mortification, Robin had ended up doing the tango with his 70-year-old butler in the living room.

Robin hated to admit it, but although his athleticism and balance had evolved from his years of trapeze work with his family, much of the grace and fluidity of his fighting and his keen sense of his opponent's movements had come from the accursed dance training. But never, in all those hours of waltzing with Alfred, would he have imagined that the lessons would have such a pleasant result as this…

Star was catching on fast. He assumed Tameranian royalty had dances similar to this, because she was soon keeping up perfectly with his steps. He threw in a twirl or two, watching as the hair that had come loose from her braids flowed out and back around her face as she spun. Each time she spun back into him, he brought her a little closer. It was like a game: 'see how closely you can hold Starfire before she realizes what you're doing and kicks you out of her room.' She never seemed to notice, though. Or if she did, she didn't seem to care. Either way, he stopped the game when her body was still less than half an inch away from his. He didn't trust himself to pull her in any further. Already, he was losing track of himself; each time her hand squeezed his shoulder a little, or one of her fingers brushed against his neck, or her breath grazed his cheek, he missed a step...he would have had a time of it, explaining how one minute he was dancing as naturally as breathing, and the next he was treading on her feet. Luckily, he managed to catch himself each time before injuring her.

It was a long time before Robin realized that he wasn't humming anymore. She didn't look like she minded, though; her eyes were closed, and she was still keeping time with him, somehow. He eased them down to a back-and-forth kind of step, so they were really just shifting their weight rather than performing the formal steps. Without thinking, he moved their joined hands toward him until they rested against his chest. Her eyes shot open in surprise, but only for a moment; when he glanced at her again, they had drifted shut. And then…she turned her hand around in his, so that it lay directly over his heart with his on top of it.

Robin's stunned mind tried hard to justify her action…but he could barely hear his own thoughts over the blood pounding in his ears. He shifted her hand a little, positive that she could feel his heart beating out of his chest. What was she doing? 'Tameranian dance technique,' he thought vaguely, in a futile attempt to calm himself down.

This was different from their first dance. That had been someone else's prom, someone else's spotlight…more of a joke, than anything else. Both had spent most of the dance holding each other rather casually, laughing companionably over the strangeness of being elected king and queen of a high school prom, when they didn't even go to high school. Robin had, of course, found her arms around his neck to be quite exhilarating…but as always, the sensation had been shoved to the back of his mind, like all of the other feelings that arose from physical contact with Starfire.

Now, though…now, it was different. It felt different. This dance, in the semi-darkness, over the wreckage of their massive pillow war, with their imagined music…it had a completely new feeling of intimacy that was making Robin nervous, frustrated, and elated, all at the same time.

Soon, the dancing had devolved further, into plain swaying. His hand on her upper back had slid lazily down to her waist, and he still held one of her hands against his chest. Sneaking a glance at her, he noted that she looked…content. There really was no other word for it. Her eyes, glittering like green embers as they caught the dim lamplight, were half-lidded. Her cheeks were gently flushed, despite the lack of heat in the tower at night, and a soft smile rested on her lips.

"You look happy." It was Starfire talking.

Robin jumped. It was a bit of a shock to hear her speak, after almost an hour of intimate silence. "Do I?" he wondered aloud, bringing a hand to his face as if to check. Sure enough, a smile rather similar to Starfire's adorned his face, and the unfamiliar ache in his cheeks confirmed that it had been there nearly all night. No surprise – he was happy, after all. He supposed Star wouldn't have commented on it, had it been a common condition for him. But even if he did feel this happy often – which he didn't – it was rare for him to be so demonstrative of his emotions. "You look happy, too," he pointed out, almost defensively.

"I always look happy." Robin had to laugh; this was true enough. "But," she added, "I do not always feel happy, as I do now." She blushed a little, and Robin realized that she'd unintentionally made two admissions in the same sentence: one, that she sometimes feigned happiness for the sake of her friends; and two, that she felt happy in his arms – or maybe she just liked dancing. All he knew was that his own rapture had nothing to do with dancing, and everything to do with holding her. He found that odd, when he thought about it, as he had never liked being close to people. But now, he found himself thinking that Star wasn't nearly close enough. Unconsciously, as that thought flitted through his mind, he pressed a little on her lower back, bringing her against his body. He thought he heard her inhale quickly, but other than that he saw no signs of protest.

This is so surreal.

"Robin?" Her voice was softer than before.

"Mmm?"

"Why are you not happy more often?"

He considered the question for a moment. "I have other things to worry about."

"Other things?"

"This city, the people in it. The Titans." You, he thought desperately. "They're in danger, every moment."

She looked at him, with infinite kindness and patience. "You cannot protect them all."

"I can, Star. I have to."

She drew back a little, regarding him sadly. "You are just a boy, Robin. You do amazing things, every day; you save lives, and you keep our team together. But, you are just a boy. Why must you carry the entire world on your shoulders?"

He could hardly answer that question; too many painful issues involved. His obsession with protecting everyone and everything from the evils that lurked around each corner existed on several levels. He'd never stopped feeling that he could have done something to prevent the death of his family; getting rid of every psychopathic villain he came across would reduce the risk of any other child having to go through the same nightmare he had. On top of that, Batman had instilled in him a general distrust and paranoia, which served to fuel his tendency to always be on the verge of 'attack mode.' Layer by layer, the obsession was formed – every civilian he failed to save, every enemy that got away, collected in his mind as a guilty weight that never quite dissolved.

And then, another layer had been added – the Titans. His team, and his responsibility. First, there had been Raven – sullen and sarcastic, but one of the best people he'd ever met. It hadn't taken long for him to care for her deeply, as a sister. Then, Cy and Beast Boy. They were constantly getting on his nerves, but he loved them both, just as much as he had loved his own brother before his death.

And then, there had been Starfire, who had literally fallen from the sky into his world. Never, in Robin's entire life, had he ever encountered a person so incredibly easy to adore. She was so pure, so open, so unabashedly caring; and she'd chosen him as her best friend, deciding early on to bestow most of her precious attention on him. Out of all the Titans, she was really the only one who had his trust, completely and unconditionally.

But that didn't mean he was ready to answer her question; to show her he wasn't as strong and infallible as she believed he was. So, he took the easy way out.

"It's complicated. You wouldn't understand."

She stopped allowing herself to be swayed back and forth, going rigid in his arms. "I would not understand?" she repeated incredulously, her eyes narrowing as she looked down at him. He hadn't felt their height difference, until that moment. "Robin, I am not, as you say, 'street smart,' and perhaps there are many things I have yet to comprehend about this planet, but you are not one of these things. I understand you, Robin. Sometimes I am sure that I understand you better than you understand yourself."

"You don't know anything." The instant the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He hadn't meant them the way they'd come out; he'd only meant that there were things she still didn't know about him. But she had gotten him agitated, with the cruel truthfulness of her words. That was how she always got to him; the way she saw straight into his soul. It was unnerving. And he'd been on edge, being so close to her for so long. No wonder he'd been set off so easily.

At his words, and the anger in his voice, Starfire jerked backwards as if she'd been slapped. She stood there a moment, the hurt on her beautiful features gripping his heart painfully. She took her hands back from him, and rested them, trembling, at her sides. She considered him for a moment, disappointment, dejection, and anger sparking in her eyes.

"No," she agreed, turning from him. "I suppose I do not know anything, after all. I do not wish to continue this illogical activity. Dancing without music is like… like… swimming without water. Or friendship without trust," she added, her eyes flashing with rare triumphant retribution as she looked back at him. "It simply does not work. Goodnight, Robin."

She started back toward her bed – but she never made it that far. A hand seized hers and dragged her back, until she was pulled up against the solid warmth of Robin's body. She struggled against him for a moment, but she soon found herself placing her arms around his neck and smothering the beginnings of her tears in his shoulder. He leaned into her, humming softly in her ear. She sighed, and couldn't stop her smile. He was humming Hey Jude, her favorite song since discovering Beast Boy's Beatles record the month before. She started to sway again, finding comfort in the soft strength of his hold on her, and in the gentleness of his slightly off-pitch voice. After two verses, he stopped and spoke in a tender, apologetic whisper into her ear.

"I do trust you," he said, tightening his arms around her as if to reassure her. She made a small sound, and for a moment he thought that maybe he'd squeezed too hard – but then she wrapped her arms further around his neck, bringing them closer together. Her nearness terrified him; but he drew a strange sort of courage from it, as well. With her back in his arms, he was brave enough…

And as they swayed to no music at all in the patch of moonlight from the window, Robin told her everything…

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To be continued…

Hm…not sure how I feel about all of that nonsense. 1000 words longer than my last chapter, though…so that's pretty good…ugh, it's horrible, isn't it? I'm going downhill, or something. Next chapter, it's back to fluffiness and nothing else. I'm sick of trying to write conflict. I should be taken out and shot, really.