Author's Note: The original plan was to get the Halloween party chapters out by Halloween. Guess what didn't happen! But it's okay, right? I'll celebrate Halloween anytime of the year...
I had this chapter in my head, but then when I was writing it out, I got confused. Like, what even is going on? But then I remembered that it's supposed to be confusing and contradicting lmao. Feelings are crazy. I get so invested in my story that it's hard to separate the emotions. But really, it's all gray.
Thank you for your wonderful reviews. Your words help me immensely. Also, they make my heart full. I hope you are all safe! I said several chapters ago that the world is batshit insane right now. Now it's even more batshit insane!
Please enjoy!
They fell asleep. God knows for how long.
Long enough for his neck to hurt, that's for sure.
He cracks his eyes open, not really believing what he's seeing and feeling, so for the most part, he accepts the position he's currently in.
At some point, she stopped crying. But she still wouldn't talk. She clung to him like nothing else and all he could do was awkwardly prop up his pillows behind him and lay back.
So here she is now: head resting right on his chest, arms loose on either side of him. His own resting around her back with his face not too far away from the top of her head. Her bare legs stretched out between his.
He sighs, reveling in the warmth of her weight on him. Leans his stiff neck forward and gently presses his nose to her hair. He might be wrong for it, but he can't help himself. He feels so safe knowing that she's here.
She stirs and it startles him a bit — he goes tense, only to relax as she settles back into him. He wounds his arms a bit tighter around her, one hand splayed on her lower back, the other on her upper. Her skin radiates such a comforting warmth. She exhales deeply and he sleepily smiles, fingertips gently running across her back.
He blinks blearily towards the window. It's gotta be early in the morning. His phone is on his desk, but it's not like he's willing to go get it.
She moans suddenly, something small but almost distressed. He tilts his head to the side to find her eyes and brows all scrunched up, a slight frown pulling her lips down. He frowns even deeper and cups the back of her head, smoothing over her hair, over and over.
He has this insane urge to cradle her. To just make sure she goes back to sweet dreams and watch her have them. He needs to make sure she's always fine.
But last night — she wasn't. And she wouldn't tell him why. A wave of discontent rolls through his stomach. What a blissful few minutes he had, not thinking about that.
What he hates the most is not that she left — which, to be quite honest, is the next runner-up — it's the fact that he recognized the look on her face when she came to him.
He… whoever he is. He made her feel the way he himself did when… when he broke her heart.
He hugs her even closer, pulling her up slightly, just enough for her temple to reach his cheek. "Why'd you go," he barely even whispers, practically a breath.
Is there any way to just protect someone's feelings? Well… he tried that before. And it completely backfired.
It's not like he can make her not feel things. Or lie to her. Or keeps things from her. Or keep her from interacting with people outside of the team.
And no, he'd never do it. Or attempt it. Again.
But fuck, he wants to keep her safe. Hold her in his arms forever. Does the world really need saving? Hasn't he done enough? He's too young to feel this old.
Would he really give it all up for her, though? It's a question he never thought to ask. 'Cause, if anything, he always saw them fighting side by side for as long as time allowed. And she doesn't think she'd want either of them to quit anytime soon. Honestly, he doesn't think she'd even let him.
He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to shake the thoughts out. It doesn't matter right now. It's not something he needs to think about when they're both… here. So close and his brain is slowly catching up to it.
She turns her face and just barely, he feels her lashes brush over his skin. Her body stirs and no, it doesn't do him any good. Not at all.
Well, it wakes him all the way up. That's for sure. His blood rushes down and why the hell is she moving so damn much? And now her leg, bending over his—
"Shit," he mouths, drawing his arms away as he tries to think of ways he can escape before she wakes up and things happen.
As carefully as he possibly can, he hooks one arm around her middle and the other behind her head. He slowly flips her off of him and onto the bed, where he lays her on the pillows he readjusts. She murmurs and his heart actually stops for a second, but she's still dead asleep, somehow.
He takes a gentle hold of her legs and shifts them into a more comfortable position. Which is just aligning them with the rest of her body. And somehow, he also manages to drag the blanket from under her and cover her with it.
Why does he feel so out of breath? That was harder than it should've been. But also, he's not sleeping like her. The way he should be.
Did I really have to wake up?
He cringes.
Did I really have to get a boner?
He resists the urge to slap a palm to his face and turns to his desk, pulling his phone out of its charger. 7:30 AM. Go figure. And Babs hasn't replied to his text… she must be getting sick of him.
She sighs uneasily, turning onto her side before curling up in a way that makes his heart melt. She might be waking up soon. Maybe he could make her tea. She's been drinking a lot of it lately.
Quietly, he leaves, setting up the tea and leaving it to seep while he heads to the bathroom and freshens up. He grabs the mug and comes back into his room, finding her in the same position, more relaxed than before.
Okay, so if she doesn't wake up, he'll drink it. It's fine. And maybe he should've carried her back to her room. Should he do it now? But he doesn't wanna risk… anything.
It's not like he's gonna go back and lay underneath her again. He scrubs his face, maskless and stubbly. May as well continue his work from last night. He sits at his desk and leans back.
Last night.
It's almost sick how he doesn't have it in him
to stay mad at her. One sight and he's forgotten everything.
But if things weren't so tense between them, if things were more like they were a couple months ago, he wouldn't hold himself back this much. He can't decide if this is a good thing or not. He's terrified to ruin the delicate balance that's been cultivated.
But the feeling is still the same. The anger simmering low in his gut, the dread hanging onto the lining. He's trying to understand her, but he doesn't know enough. And he doesn't want to push her.
Except it's more like, if he knows. For sure. He doesn't think he'll take it well.
At all.
And if he's weak for that… a hypocrite. A complete ass. Then he is.
He stares at the screen, spacing out as the thoughts come at him and don't stop, a certain kind of tired making his eyes burn. The only thing that brings him back is the sound of her moving.
He turns, just to check on her. He finds her awake instead.
She combs her messy hair off her face, a blush rising as she meets his eyes. Hers go wide with worry. He must be looking at her funny.
"Did you sleep well?" he says gruffly, typing something useless so he doesn't have to keep looking at her. "I didn't wanna wake you."
"F-fine…" she mumbles. He hates how it sounds.
"I made you tea," he adds. "If you want."
"Oh. Thank you."
He rubs the side of his neck. "No problem, Star."
An awkward silence ensues. The sound of the keyboard is so loud that he has to stop. He feels too bad about this. He can barely look at her.
He takes the mug and moves his chair beside her. He doesn't miss the way she sits up straighter, holding the blanket tighter to her body. He holds it out to her, his chest tight. "Before it gets cold."
She nods, taking it gingerly out of his hands. The blanket falls to her lap and he finds himself inspecting her again, just in case he missed something before.
"I am the alright," she says quietly before taking a sip.
He sighs. "I just need to check, Star."
She swallows, nods slowly. "I understand."
His head flicks up, catching her distant gaze. She looks sad. She looks like she wants to cry.
It only fuels the fire in him.
He spits it out before he can think. "He hurt you."
It startles her. She blinks the shock away before narrowing her eyes. It pisses him off even more.
"Why else would you have come home in the middle of the night crying?" He scoffs. "What were you thinking? Going to see the criminal who's been murdering people here for months? Who attacked us? Stole my suit? Who assaulted—" he bites it back, the taste of it too bitter on his tongue.
She turns her face away with a hmph. "Do you truly expect me to answer to you? How is it that you forget every time that I am capable of protecting myself? Do you think I am… I am a fool?" She faces him, expression twisted with anger. "That I am stupid?"
"No," he says quickly, firmly. He leans in closer, not letting her eyes leave his. "I know you wouldn't go without a reason. But I'm not okay with it. I don't want you to go. If I knew beforehand, I wouldn't have let you."
She shakes her head in disgust. "How dare you continue to belittle me?"
"Starfire, I'm not, I'm—" he exhales harshly, pressing his teeth together hard. Fuck, what can he say?
"I do not like it when you treat me as if I am in need of protection. As if I am weak."
"That's not what I'm saying."
"Then what is it that you are trying to say?" she says, louder than before, her eyes growing glassy.
He grabs her upper arms tight and brings her close to him. "I'm trying to say that I don't want to see you get hurt. You think I like it when you cry, Star? Hm? Last night wasn't the first time, either."
Her resolve is slipping fast. But he can't stop yet. He needs her to hear it.
"I don't want to control you, or belittle you, or
keep you from making your own decisions. It's not about that. Star, I'd do a lot for you, but I can't just let you go and see some— some fucking murderer," he seethes. "Whatever it takes, I'll keep you from it."
Her face twists like just a few hours before, and it cuts him deep. "Richard."
He shakes his head. What isn't she telling him? Why does it almost feel like she's protecting him? "I can't let you do it again."
"I have no intention of seeing him again," she says, her voice low as she gathers herself.
He furrows his brows together and leans back, his grip loosening, but he can't quite let her go yet. "Tell me what happened last night." He squeezes her arms. "Please."
She shakes her head and closes her eyes, drawing away from his hold. He leans his elbows on his knees and stares intently at her, trying to read her.
"I had no real desire to see him. I went to… to… confront him," she says quietly after a long pause, staring down at her lap. Her nose twitches as her skin flushes. "I am aware it was not a wise decision. But I was angry. I am angry," her voice shakes.
"Starfire." He's not sure what he means by her name. It's not that he doesn't believe her.
For the most part.
She rubs a hand across her face before crossing her arms over her chest. "You are judging me."
"I just want you to tell me the truth."
She turns to him then, a certain fire in her stare. He matches it. Then she dies it down.
"How can I," she says, not even a question.
He doesn't know what's coming over him. This strange and sudden desire to know what it is she's been doing. Even though he knows she doesn't want to say it. That he doesn't even wanna hear it.
He says nothing. Waits for her to speak again. She's squirming in place, her fingers tapping against the mug.
"Why are you asking for such a thing?" she says finally.
"'Cause I already know the answer," he scoffs, standing abruptly.
He didn't even think he'd react like this right now— he's clenching his fists so tight that the nubs of his nails are digging into his palms. He can't find it in himself to stop.
She follows him, her warm fingers tight around his wrist. "Richard," she says desperately, something wild and guilty in her eyes.
He doesn't have the right to be hurt. But he can't help but to be. To bare it to her with just a single
look.
She was… with him.
And if that didn't kill him dead.
"You must understand. I would never do anything to hurt, or, or to betray you, you must believe me…"
He nods numbly, watching more of her tears fall. How hasn't she run out of them yet? "Of course I do. You didn't know what he was doing."
She blinks wide eyes up at him before dropping them down to his chest. "I had my suspicions."
He tilts his head, trying to make the pieces not come together. But he fails.
She looks back up. "More than anything, I wanted to understand." It sounds like a plea. "There is something you must know."
Now he's filled with dread, grabbing her arm as she grips his wrist even tighter, and what is it with him? What is it that makes him so willing to suffer for her? The anger ebbs away into an ache that's an echo of her name. It doesn't matter what she did, what she didn't do. He'll forgive her all.
"Jason," she says like its shards of glass in her mouth. She exhales a shaking breath, smoothing her hand up his arm. Her voice drops to a whisper. "Your brother. It is him. It must be. I saw it, I saw… the burden he has been carrying. He has reasons… for what he has been doing. I do not understand. Or know them myself." She shakes her head. "He would not tell me a thing."
He dips his head down towards her. "So how can you be so sure, then?"
"Believe in me. Please. Trust in me." She grabs onto his shirt and he covers her hand with his own.
"I do, Star, I do." He flattens her hand onto his chest. "Stop asking me to."
He doesn't know what to feel. He can't wrap his head around what she's saying. It comes up all muddled in his mind, like he still can't accept that it's real, and the anger that was there to ground him completely dissipates. All he knows is that he needs her safe. He needs her to stop hurting. He can't think about anything else. Or else he just might fall apart.
"Listen to me. Just don't go back." He lets her go. "I don't know what I'll do if you do."
Her drink is sugary, excessively so. Just the way she enjoys it the most. She taps her fingers along the rim of the cup, giggling as a fuzzy warmth washes over her.
Someone bumps against her arm — she startles at the sight of blood on otherwise perfect skin, only to realize it is not real. The dim lighting of the room had also made it that much harder to recognize. She giggles even more, something high-pitched, and Bumblebee joins her too.
She has no idea what her friend has dressed as! She must have asked already, but her sweet drinks have made her forget. Bumblebee picks a piece of a cupcake and daintily places it into her mouth. "These are… good."
Her eyes instantly water. "Do you truly think so?" she pouts, suddenly so touched that she feels the need to clutch her chest.
"Yeah, girl, of course," she smirks. "Don't cry your mascara off now."
Oh! She'd forgotten… the blue, sparkling eyeshadow and mascara she had put on. Something that felt appropriate with her costume. A two-piece set, not unlike a bathing suit, yellow with the black stripes of a tiger with knee-length boots to match. And to top it off, a black headband with antennae.
Tonight, she is… an alien.
She clasps Bumblebee's hand with her warm one and leans in close. "Your words touch me deeply!"
She laughs, tugging on her hand as Bumblebee pulls her up from the chair. "How're you drunk already? C'mon, let's go sit with the other girls."
She had not even realized she had been by herself — she clutches her hand and allows herself to be pulled along to the center of the living room, plopping down on the couch and oooing at the large bowls of candy on the table. She handpicks a few she is familiar with and lays them in her lap, reaching for her drink only to not find it beside her. She pouts until she looks up, noticing the chatter around her. And then over everyone else, she spots him, eyes wary on her.
She crosses her arms and turns her nose in the air with a hmph, all the while unable to fight the hot and bubbly feeling that erupts in her belly. Perhaps she should not act in such a way, but it feels right to, in the moment. And it feels good. Not only to express her frustration, but to know that he is so… that he is there. Watching over her despite it.
She opens one eye and peeks over at him. She swears that she sees it — the faintest hint of a smile before he retracts it, but she keeps it in her mind's eye, hazy but present.
She tosses her hair back and faces his direction once more, squinting one eye and pulling her puckered lips to one side. With a raise of his brows and a twitch of his mouth, he turns back to an empty space, as if he were expecting someone there, and his look of mild surprise makes her laugh.
"Why don't you love me?"
"C'mon—" Jinx grunts as Kid Flash slips a hand under her jaw and tilts it back roughly. "Babe. Stop being so freaking annoying."
"Hey," he scolds her. "I missed you."
Jinx rolls her eyes before they flutter shut to his gentle kiss, almost clumsy but chaste and full of adoration, she can feel it from the distance across the table. Then she realizes that their colors were correct, but on the wrong bodies, and oh, were they dressed as each other? It reminds her of a time — oh, is she tearing up again? At the sight of… of… of love?
Yes, I am. Like some fool.
Her smile is genuine but watery, both amused at their antics and regrettably envious, somewhere deep in her heart. Or perhaps everywhere in it. And around it, too. Oh, X'hal help her.
She mindlessly unwraps another piece of candy and chews it, missing her drink even more. She pats the space beside her as if it would suddenly appear. For some reason, this makes her more emotional, a wave of longing passing through her like a high wind that pushes her back against the couch. There's the sound of flipping cards, a blur, and then Jinx's voice, vexed in contrast to a belly laugh that rings in the air.
Green fur fills her vision, along with greener eyes, big and sparkling. Cute little ears with a cute little hat in between and a fluffy tail. Her face scrunches up and immediately, she scoops the kitten into her arms, reveling in its softness and warmth.
Well, he. She had not even put it together until she noticed she was crushing him, strained sounds coming from his throat. Once she loosens her hold, he walks up to her shoulder and then to the other, running his fur over her the back of her neck. It tickles but it feels so nice and she giggles, stroking the delicate space above his nose.
She hears her name and whips towards the sound beside her — how had she not realized that Wonder Girl was right there? She smiles and says something else, and she returns the gesture, taking the cards in her hand. She turns them over and tilts her head in confusion. What is she supposed to do right now? A hand pushes her own closer to her chest. "Cover your cards, girl."
"Oh," she nods. "Okay!"
With one last purr, Beast Boy bumps his nose against her cheek and saunters off along the top of the couch, to which she grins. She waves at him. "Thank you for your wondrous service!"
She hears a laugh somewhere in front of her. "You are so funny when you drink," Argent says.
She blushes, her face so much more hot than the rest of her body. "It is not my intention!"
She gets lost in the laughter, her head going pleasantly numb as her senses dilute. The hand on her shoulder feels like a cloud. It is cool on her skin, and the plastic that appears in front of her is even cooler. She takes it gingerly and peers inside, gasping at the pink, bubbly liquid. Could it be?!
"I noticed you were missing your drink," someone says as they sit beside her. She turns wide eyes to Aqualad, his smile easy and friendly.
She returns it. "I am so grateful! This beverage…" She takes a sip and closes her eyes as it runs down her throat and goes warm in her tummy. "It is… absolutely glorious. Have you tried it?"
He chuckles, leaning forward. "Not a big fan of the sugary stuff. It's harder to tell how much you've had."
She pauses for a second, thinking hard about what he just said. She furrows her brows together before knocking the cup back and taking a generous gulp. "That is quite interesting."
"They sure do taste good, though." He is closer than she realized. "Maybe it should be your last one tonight?"
Before she can even begin to formulate a response, her cup is propped out of her grasp and strong hands wrap around her forearms. They pull her up and take her away, the words around her drowned out as his palm slips against hers. She stares up at him in fascination, following his lead, the voices behind her loud and formless.
He leads her down the hallway, familiar but not — she had forgotten they were not home. He stops in front of a door, the music distant from her ringing ears. He opens it and guides her inside. Her eyes never once leave his face, not even looking her way.
She does not know whose room this is, only that the view of the sky tonight is brilliant. It provides enough light for her to perfectly see his infamous frown. Her fascination turns sour at the sight, with the help of her frustration and nerves.
He turns stiffly to face her. "You drank too much."
Oh, here he goes again, trying to tell her what to do! She gives him a piercing side-eye, knowing he will not let her leave without a fight. She accepts her fate with her nose in the air and walks to the bed, where she sits on the floor and leans against the side of the mattress. She crosses her ankles and arms, intentionally not looking his way.
He sighs before sitting down beside her. "Drink some water?" A plea instead of a suggestion. She looks down to see the water bottle he holds out to her. She takes it and sets it aside and then resumes her position.
But she does not have the willpower or energy to hold. grudge — he says her name softly, wistfully, and it makes her malleable. She attempts to maintain her cross expression still, but it melts away when she looks back at him.
She leans her head on his shoulder, her side pressed against his. He wraps his hand around the soft part of the back of her arm. It makes her feel small.
She is upset at him, still. For several reasons. For right now and before right now.
She picks at the blue symbol on his chest, trying to recall what he had said about it earlier today. He squeezes her arm gently. He can feel the heat of his skin through his glove, but it is dulled and it is not enough. She pouts morer, looking up at him from her position to find him already looking at her. Unsurprisingly. She had felt his stare all night.
She brings her knees close to her chest and weakly drags her arm up. She grazes her fingertips over the edge of his mask, moaning in disapproval. How can he take her away from the party and still not show her his eyes? She can read him through the mask, but not as well.
He nods once before peeling it off and placing it on the bed. She rolls her head until the back of it is resting on his shoulder, sight unbreaking from his, the moments timeless as they stretch along.
It is not easy to fight the ease she is falling into. Her expression relaxes slowly. She is beginning to forget why she was upset in the first place. It is so beautiful to be protected and held.
How strange is it that there was a time, not too long ago, where she did not go to him to feel safe? It swirls around in her mind as the emotions come in flashes of physical memory.
The warmth, the comfort, the safety, and the drunkenness, they make her eyelids grow heavy, even when he speaks.
"You look beautiful, even when you're mad. But I don't want you to be mad at me anymore."
She can smell the faintest hint of alcohol on his breath, and it brings her back to minutes before, to the drink he had in hand but had not paid attention to. His words sound so simple. But with enough depth to make little zaps of electricity multiply inside.
She cannot take it anymore. Her eyes slip shut. She slumps her weight on him, sighs dreamily at his hold growing more secure. Her legs go slack and fall against his. His other hand covers the side of her knee before his cheek rests on top of her head.
And it feels so familiar. Not far away at all. So close that her body recognizes it instantly and fades into it.
She does not register his words. They come quietly, barely breaking the silence, matching the even flow of his fingers trailing up and down her arm. Yet the meaning is not lost on her. It blankets her. Surrounds her. Everything. Him. It makes sense. Very much so. And it carries on until the seconds bleed into nothing.
Until the nothing is overturned and turned into a sudden, awful ringing. It startles them both heavily, the adrenaline already coursing through. He fumbles before bringing his communicator over and flipping it open, already fuming.
He shuts it abruptly and places it back on his belt. His hand slides onto the side of her face and neck. "Stay here. I won't be long."
Yet he doesn't move away. He stares and she stares back, unable to articulate what she wants to ask. But she does not get the chance to, anyway.
Slowly, fluidly, he leans in and presses his lips to hers. Almost harshly, but not quite. A kind of pressure that calls to them, something that cannot yet be indulged. And yet he picks and prods at it, his lips sinking deeper into hers and sliding smoothly against as he cradles her head.
Breathless.
He breaks their boundness, his bottom lip brushing over her top.
Hesitantly, he pulls away.
"I'll be back soon," he says, sticking his mask back on. He looks back when he leaves her in the dark.
