30Kisses Theme Ficlets

Robin/Raven

By Kysra

Theme #18 (an or "say ahh . . ."): Season

"Say ahh . . . " There was a metal spoon inching towards her face, and attached to that spoon was a black glove covering a large hand attached to a strong arm stretched from a grinning masked idiot once known as "The Boy Wonder."

snort

The only "wonder" was how he had managed to stay alive so long.

"If that spoon moves any closer to me, it will find a new home shoved up your nose."

He had the gall to chuckle at her. "In your hour of need, I try to be a good friend and protect you from dehydration and starvation; and a threat is the thanks I get."

"I have the flu. I have NOT lost the ability to move my appendages." She sniffled then blew her nose quite unattractively. To be quite honest, she really didn't give a fly fuck in hell if she was attractive at that moment. More concerning was the rush of nausea and a sudden increase in saliva production.

There was a hand at the back of her head and a bucket to her neck faster than the bile could rise past her throat. "Let it go, Raven. Don't fight it."

Involuntary tears streamed down her face as she got her bearings and wiped at her lips. His hand was still clutching her hair back from her face, the other swiping at her forehead and cheeks with a cool, wet cloth. "Damn Earth virus."

The quirk of his grin made her want to slap him. "You weather it well."

"What are you? My personal cheerleader?"

"I like to refer to the role as care giver."

"Chronic Irritation would be more accurate."

The spoon was once again presented to her. "Eat. Raven."

Her look, she was sure, was one of calm exasperation. "I just vomited. The last thing I want to ingest is manufactured chicken soup."

His look, she noticed, was one of self-righteous indignation. "I made this soup with my own two hands."

Raven couldn't help her rising eyebrow. "Of course. And that we have not had fresh, frozen or cooked chicken, clean dishes, or a mold-free kitchen since the refrigerator was stocked at move-in was a complete hallucination. I didn't know you even knew we had a stove let alone how to use it."

Sheepish and - more importantly - caught, he fidgeted with a packet of saltine crackers. "Fine. I admit it's heated canned soup. Why do you keep fighting me on this?""Why do you insist on playing nursemaid?" Her hands clutched the blankets tighter as a strong chill racked through her 3-layer-flannel clad body. As soon as she had shown signs of being 'under the weather,' her friends had jumped to do whatever they could to make her comfortable - from offering various home remedies (Starfire's had sounded . . . unique to say the least) to fetching her whatever she might need. After about ten minutes of taking to her bed with a high fever, she had felt smothered and extremely irritable. Beastboy had earned a sound tongue-lashing within the first day of her illness. He had yet to return. Starfire had decided to care for her from afar after the Dark Witch spewed chunks all over the Tamaranian's new uniform. Cyborg - Raven's nurse of choice - had recently experienced a short circuit which he was trying to fix.

That left her with Rob -- Nightwing.

Lucky me.

"Maybe I'm trying to get in touch with my maternal instinct."

And he thinks he's funny. The gods must hate me.

This time she did slap him. Softly. They were friends after all. Even if he was a constant pain-in-the-ass.

"Hey! What did I do to deserve that?" He looked wounded. Like a lost puppy that's just been kicked off the lawn.

She wasn't going to fall for that. Her body might be fevered, achy and tired, but her mind was as active as ever. The amusement zinging around him was as palpable as the heart beating in her chest. "I'm tired. Leave me alone."

"But you haven't eaten."

"Not hungry."

"Raven."

"Mother." Her breath immediately caught. Even in jest, the title was hurtful to speak. She couldn't help but wonder . . .

He was staring at her. She didn't have to look at him to know that. There was a quiet sort of comfort to having his eyes on her even if she couldn't see them. "You miss her."

"You miss yours, too."

A sigh as his weight shifted on the bed and the spoon settled once and for all in the bowl of cooling soup. "I lost mine a long time ago."

"It doesn't get easier, does it?"

"No. Not easier. You do get stronger though. It becomes routine to deal with it. And someday, you won't have to work so hard to remember the good memories instead of the bad."

Another silence, this one not as strained. Deftly, a thermometer was popped into her mouth and just as deftly taken out. Eyes on his long hair, she discerned his nod before his hands settled into his lap and his mouth lost the last vestiges of its grinning curve. "Do you ever think of the future?"

Does he want to be slapped again? "What part of 'I'm tired. Leave me alone.' don't you understand?"

His hand was suddenly on her knee. How was it she could feel his touch burning through a glove, four blankets, a sheet, and three layers of flannel pajamas? Was he trying to make her fever worse?

"Humor me. Ever think about it?"

"How far into the future are we talking?"

"When this is all over."

"When what is all over?" For once, she wasn't being sarcastic.

"The Titans. Crime fighting. The Superhero gig."

Whoa. Just . . . "Who are you, and what have you done with Nightwing?" In Raven's world, there was no future. If tomorrow came then bully to her and everyone who got to see it without demonic parents coming to claim their seeds and destroy humanity. In Raven's world, the Titans would be together until she died and probably after. She was, after all, destined for an extremely short life. Imagine her upset when she had lived to see her 25th birthday. Life without the fighting had never been an option. She had believed it to be the same with Rob -- NIGHTWING, DAMN IT.

"I'm serious, Raven."

"So am I. I thought you were in this for the long haul."

He looked away, and she could tell, simply from his profile, that he was dead serious and completely confused. "I thought so too, but lately . . ."

"Everything has their season. Maybe yours is turning."

His grin is back, but there is no desire to slap it from his face this time. "You've been listening to my old albums again, haven't you?"

Determined to retain whatever shred of dignity she had left after he had suffered her snot, spit, vomit and tears, Raven steadfastedly refused to let him see her blush or admit to liking The Byrds. "Maybe I'm just an old philosopher at heart."

"So, do you?"

Truth or dare, Raven . . . "Sometimes. Now that Trigon's gone . . . Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be selfish, to not subject myself to mortal danger everyday, to not have to see my friends getting hurt."

"Settling down?"

"That too. What brought this on?"

The grin turned into a genuine smile as he raised her hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles before releasing them to be huddled back towards her body. The smile only grew wider - flirtatious even - as he noticed her disgruntled, slack-jawed look. "Nothing in particular. Sweet dreams, Raven."

Nightwing moved, silent as a shadow, from her room - not even the soup laden tray in his hands clinking with his steps; and she watched after him, marveling at the feeling enveloping her at the memory of that last smile. It was a warmth akin to the embrace of her cloak just out of the dryer or the seldom given, heartfelt hugs from Azar. It was a memory that was remembered in the heart rather than the mind.

It made her smile, and her dreams were, indeed, sweet.