She WASN'T thinking about painting.

In fact, it was the last thing on her mind. It couldn't be farther from her thoughts. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, contently enjoying a good book, intrigued by it's ink-bound wonder. Her eyes were NOT straying to her closet, which innocently held her Artist's Papers. Her hands were NOT twitching, yearning to delicately brush the soft surface of the canvas...

Darn it, she was obsessed!

'You always want something you can't have.' she reminded herself, suddenly she unconsciously thought of Robin, carrying her package clumsily through the hallway, just trying to get it to her. She closed her eyes, as if doing so would erase the image from her head. But it didn't.

Robin had worked hard to respect her privacy and give her the delivery. And she couldn't even USE it!

She had earlier resolved to not go out and buy a paintbrush, because then her friends would know what she was up to and bug her endlessly. She couldn't even try to go out and buy one at night, because there was the chance they could have a mission. She couldn't dare try to order one, since her secret had almost been discovered. There just wasn't any options for her!

She let out a loud grunt of frustration and flopped back on her pillow, staring up in despair at the ceiling. Why was she so distant from her friends? So much so that she couldn't even bring herself to purchase a stupid paintbrush? Was she THAT anti-social?

She spent the next hour or so brooding and trying to think of alternatives, when she glanced at her old-fashioned clock to find that it was awfully late. Sighing, deciding she would sleep on it, Raven hung up her cloak and slipped into her bed sheets, letting their cool texture rub against her skin. Ready to delve into a night of sweet slumber, she was nearly scared out of her wits by a sudden knock at her door.

Who in Azar would knock on her door at this last hour?

Groaning, she got up and grumbled something about just being comfortable, slowly putting on her cloak and opening her door with a deliberate glare-of-death on her face. Whoever out there was going to be sorry.

But no one was there.

Quirking a brow, she was ready to hang Beast Boy by his underwear for immaturely pranking her, but as she took a step out of her doorway she stepped on something. Something smooth, round, long, and slim.

A paintbrush.

Taking a sharp intake of air, Raven bent over in what felt like slow motion, her eyes quickly darting around to make sure she wasn't being watched. Picking up the art utensil, she noticed a small note attached. Turning the piece of paper over so it was readable, she whispered the words to herself.

Thought you could use this.

Hope painting makes you happier.

Don't worry- this will just be our secret.

- Your Anonymous Benefactor

'Yeah. Anonymous.' Raven thought sarcastically with a faint smile as she moved back into her room, the door sliding closed with a comforting 'whoosh' behind her. There was only one person this could be from.

Robin.

Beast Boy wouldn't be so subtle about it- he was never subtle. He would've confronted her about it. Starfire would've instantly hugged her and suggest that they go fingerpaint together or something, and Cyborg probably wouldn't have done anything except maybe suggest she help him paint his car.

Nope, there was only one person who would go out of their way to help, to know exactly what she wanted and do their best to get it for her. Robin.

She shook her head roughly, as if shaking her thoughts of Robin away. It was embarrassing- thinking of Robin in the middle of the night. She was grateful for his gift, but it still bothered her that someone knew about her painting obsession.

Looking to the brush, Raven resisted the overpowering urge to feel its thin threads on her cheek. Instead, she walked to her closet to get out her canvas- until another revelation struck her.

She had the canvas.

And a paintbrush.

She needed...paint!

She hastily covered her head in a sound-proof dark matter bubble, allowing herself to scream at the top of her lungs in the uttermost peak of frustration. Doing so, she threw herself on her bed, digging under the covers, trying to hide from the alluring temptation that was the paint canvas. And so Raven slept- fretfully, but she slept.

And though she didn't notice it, she had accidentally nestled up with her gift from Robin. With his note still attached.

----------------------

Robin slipped back into his own room, grinning smugly to himself for his ninja-like stealth, his heart pounding from the rush. He was sure he hadn't made a sound.

He had bought the paintbrush earlier that day, and told Starfire (after much rather tedious questioning) that he had taken up painting. He knew Raven wanted her hobbies best kept to herself. How did he know? He just...did.

They always knew each other best. They could finish each other's thoughts, sentences, plans; all without a second thought. At least...until now.

Now Robin was beginning to notice their uncommon relationship. He mulled it over while he was sitting in his room after his midnight visit. He and Raven could have a conversation just by a glance- they let each other feel like they weren't alone in their opinions by a single look. They trusted each other with EVERYTHING- things that he could never trust with the others, or Starfire. They knew the other on so many levels, and yet Raven was still mysterious, still unpredictable. For example, he never would've thought she'd have taken up painting. But now that she had, he was going to do everything in his power to help her.

A present a night would suffice. Drop something off and leave her wanting more. He knew she'd want paint next. He was already wondering what color. Red? Blue? Purple? Black. Black would do. She could draw basic pictures with black.

And yet, even while he planned this, Robin wondered if he could do more. He liked being able to contribute in some way, but now he was getting greedy and felt like he could aid her in other ways. As he took off his shirt to get comfortable for bed, he struck an idea.

Raven didn't know how to paint, did she? Not really. Only by what she saw on TV. For her to get the full impact of painting, she needed a teacher. A guide.

Smiling to himself, Robin crawled into bed and subconsciously made sure his alarm was set.

Tomorrow...Raven would receive some outside help.

Tomorrow...