Disclaimer: Teen Titans isn't mine, in case there was any question on the matter.

Calico

(Humor AU.)

He didn't know what he'd been thinking.

Well, alright, he did. He'd been thinking that Wally was pretty. Which he was. Sandy, red hair, mischievous eyes, slim but not skeletal like the blonde girl who looked like a Save the Children campaign. And more than that. There was something effervescently attractive about him, like a spark struck from flint and steel; he was perhaps the first he'd come into contact with who wasn't moody and fashionably tormented. He had no angst, no apologies, no oh-so-dreadful past. No. Wally was just pretty, and he'd wanted him, so he took him. Or at least, that's what he thought at the time.

Of course, Slade was starting to wonder if the boy who called himself Kid Flash had gone along with the whole thing just to drive him fucking insane.

"Watcha doin'?" His self-righteous, intolerably confident voice, much too close to Slade's ear, leaning over him as he attempted to enter data into the computer.

Ignore him and he'll go away. Ignore him and he'll go away.

"I think your desktop's boring," Wally remarked, spinning around to lean his back against Slade's desk, palms resting directly on top of two stacks of papers. Important papers. "I can find you some good backgrounds if you want. Airplanes. Convertibles. Girls in bikinis." He seemed to consider something. "Legal girls in bikinis."

"That will not be necessary, thank you." Slade concentrated on the computer screen.

He grinned. "You're right: you're not so much the typical, masculine type. I should have realized…I'll get you some pictures of kitties."

"Walter, I would appreciate it if you…"

"…cute, fuzzy little kitties with big eyes that follow you around purring like a motor boat…"

Clenching his fists, Slade listened to himself breathe in and out, trying not to look at Wally, who was rearranging the stacks of papers in a circular pattern. This had been a very poor plan. A very poor plan indeed.

"…and I think you're more of a calico type, honestly, though I'm sure some people would think Siamese for you. Hey! How about you wait right here, and I'll go get you a real kitty? It won't take me long. What kind would you like? Like I said, I really think calico…"

"Walter!" Slade immediately rebuked himself for shouting. It was an utter betrayal of his cachet, and besides, he was supposed to be the eerily composed villain. People needed something to associate him with, after all.

Wally stared at him, blue eyes round with feigned injury. "Well, you don't have to yell at me, you know; if you wanted the Siamese, all you had to do was ask…"

"What I would like is for you—"

"Jinx was more fun, anyway," Wally muttered. "Hey! I'm bored."

That in and of itself was a profoundly frightful concept. "What a pity."

"I know! Can I play with your weapon-thingies? You're not using them, and I like that big stick that you have." He smirked. "How very phallic of you."

Memo: next time, go with the anorexic, blonde one.

Consider

(Post- Season Five)

He'd had it.

It had been four days. Four days and he'd called her every night asking if she was alright, if she needed food and all that—but she'd just said that no, she was fine. Short and succinct and very polite…but leaving no room for questions. She'd said that she just couldn't see him right now. She'd told him to wait, to give her "awhile to figure things out."

Kid Flash was about as patient as a two-year-old who really, really needed to use the restroom. And he'd had it with waiting.

It wasn't as if he had any real reason to see her, or anything. Or obligation. Or anything. There was no reason…they weren't…committed, or anything like that. Kid Flash didn't do commitments. But still—he thought that maybe it had to do with the fact that she'd told him not to come. Prohibition inevitably made something vastly more attractive for him. And more than that: just that he'd been told that he couldn't…Kid Flash could do anything he wanted.

Including visiting Jinx.

Her apartment was small, run-down, in a really bad neighborhood that worried him somewhat. Because, yeah, she had more than enough ability to take care of herself…but Jinx was a girl and it just wasn't right to have her living in the midst of crime and assault and drugs and everything else. Of course, it wasn't like she hadn't been around things like that for most of her life. It made Kid Flash feel a little sick as he sidestepped a broken beer bottle.

The door was locked but her window was usually kept open. He wished she'd stop doing that but she wouldn't listen. Jinx had one room on the second floor—it wasn't hard to climb up there. There was a good tree behind the building.

He slid the window shut behind him, back into its original half-open position. The room was falling apart, but physically neat, sparse because Jinx didn't exactly have many possessions. A blue hairbrush on her desk. Dusty mirror in the middle of one of the walls. Low, rumpled bed with a dozing, sixteen-year-old girl in it.

Jinx was lucky that Kid Flash was a superhero, not a criminal.

It was the realization that Jinx didn't have many possessions that made him pause when he saw the book in her hands. He didn't know she liked to read. Kid Flash didn't like books; reading meant sitting still in one place for much too long. Maybe a book on tape. But only if he had headphones for it so he could take it places. Just popping it into a car CD player wouldn't cut it, because driving was almost as bad as just sitting still. And what use did he have for a car, anyway? He was faster than any vehicle he knew of.

But Jinx's book was really funny-looking, so that's why he crept closer to her to get a better view of it as it began to slip out of her slack fingers. It was old, first of all—like everything else in this apartment, except for Jinx, of course—old and heavy and thick and leathery. In other words, nothing he'd ever read in his right mind, but pretty interesting at a glance…just because Kid Flash hadn't seen many books like that before.

Wide, frightened eyes snapped open as Jinx realized that she wasn't alone and jerked away from him, breathing heavily, dropping the book onto the floor. It made a loud, important noise when it fell, as if it was not very happy about being treated with such carelessness, thank you very much.

"Heya!" He waved placatingly, hoping she wouldn't scream or anything.

Recognition dawned on her pale face. "Dammit, you! I told you not to visit right now, and you scared me, and…"

Kid Flash shrugged. "Well, you shouldn't really leave your window open if you don't want people to come say hello, I don't think." He poked the book experimentally with his shoe. "You reading something?"

Still cloudy with sleep, it took her a moment to piece together what he meant, but once she'd stared down at the floor and the book for a few moments, Jinx turned to him with a hard, set expression. "Don't kick that."

Well, he wasn't kicking it—he was just poking it; there was a difference, really now, there was. "Sor-ry."

Jinx hoisted herself out of bed and bent to retrieve the book, setting it on her desk with finality, almost like an apology. Kid Flash didn't think it was an apology that was meant for him. "I'm trying to figure some things out, like I said before."

"So…I'm sorry, but I just don't—how's some ancient book going to help you?"

"I don't know, okay!" Her voice was suddenly tinged with a disturbing hint of desperation that he hadn't recognized before now. "I don't know anything, and I wish that I did but I don't, but that 'ancient book' just happens to be the only thing in this world that does know…so you should stop making fun of it, Flash, you really should."

He took a deep breath and a step away from her, watching her bite her lip, clasping and unclasping her hands over and over. The book lay between them like a fence, like a wall, and then his eyes widened when he finally got a good look at it, at what it was—and then he knew why Jinx was upset, and maybe he sort of felt badly for what he'd said, but he hadn't known so even then it wasn't his fault.

A simple inscription in shiny, golden lettering, catching the light the right way so he could read it clearly: Holy Bible.

Switch

(AU Apprentice. Disturbing.)

Blonde hair spilled over her shoulders to cover the front of her face as she leaned over in the chair, tied to the armrests with leather straps. Her wrists were brittle and undersized, much smaller than even the boy's, and they would have been shaking uncontrollably if it weren't for the restraints.

It had been simple to capture her. A stupid mistake; a silly, teenage-girl mistake and she'd been his, the rest of them injected quite easily with the virus that would bring their death whenever he saw fit. All except one. The girl in the chair didn't know this, of course, but Slade was saving Robin for later. The others could die in flailing, undignified agony, unadorned and without fanfare. But Robin.

Well. He'd save him for later, at any rate.

"I trust you've had ample time to make your decision?" Slade drummed his fingers lightly on the back of her chair, hearing her breath catch as she struggled to pull away.

Terra squeezed her huge, blue eyes shut, tears leaking out of them from the corners. "Leave me alone! Please, why can't you just leave me alone? I didn't do anything to you!"

Slade chuckled, reaching out to touch her neck, feeling her shudder. "Of course you didn't. But Terra, it's not about you. It's about me. Because you see, Terra…" He paused, stooping to look her in the eyes, hand gripping her chin as he brushed away her hair. "I regret to inform you that I am a very, very bad man."

She started to speak, but it became a helpless, whimpering noise that would have been more appropriate from a puppy who'd just been bathed in salicylic acid. Ineffectual, feeble muscles attempted to pull away from him. The fear in her eyes was a good look for her. Vulnerably attractive in a way that made him glad he'd decided on this…hands-on approach.

"My dear, I grow tired of this little diversion. You are well aware of your options, and the consequences of each." Slade indicated the innocuous control panel in his hands that would bring death to four rather bothersome—not to mention boring—teenagers. Of course, the real trigger wasn't the large, red button in the center of the panel; rather, a tiny switch on the underside, protected by a plastic covering. But the button was much more effective for persuading stupid, fourteen-year-old girls.

Terra squirmed in her chair. "Options, right. So basically, either I let you kill all my friends or I let you…let you…" A wild, terrified look swallowed what she was going to say next, even though Slade knew what she was going to say because he'd already explained to her, in rather explicit detail, exactly what she was going to have to do to save her friends' lives.

"Such a clever girl," said Slade. "Now. Your decision, if you would be so kind."

"I…I shouldn't…" Terra's sobs punctuated the next words she managed to choke out as she folded against the chair in defeat. "It's not fair, it's not right—and this is just bad, bad, bad…everything about it is…it's…" Her speech lost all coherence.

"Right again, my dear," Slade praised, smiling at her look of horror. "But then, haven't we already established that I am a very, very bad man?" He unzipped her jacket casually. "Of course, if you need some firsthand experience before you make your final decision…"

"No!" She cringed away from him, sobbing, screaming every obscenity she knew before finally turning to stare at him, breathing ragged, eyes swimming with defeat. "Give me the trigger."

Slade took his hands away from her, noting her sigh of relief with interest. "Ah. So you have made a decision. Excellent. It isn't necessary, however, for you to…"

"Give it here."

He stared down at her, unwavering, completely still. It was discoveries like this that he enjoyed the most: those little differences within a person that, if detected, would determine their reaction in almost any circumstances. Would put the keys in his hand, the exact levers to pull that would shatter them, make them do anything he pleased. Of course, some weren't quite as easy to conquer as Terra. He imagined that if he'd used Robin, he would have had to work harder. If the girl hadn't been around, he probably would have gone straight to Robin, actually—but this was better. So much better. A preliminary.

So Slade carefully loosed one of Terra's hands from the bonds, noticing the fresh blood in the middle of her palms where she'd dug her fingernails into her skin. She bled easily. Too thin. He held the panel close to her, well within her reach. Little fingers trembled over the red button until he knowingly shook his head, turning the panel around and guiding her to the real switch, plastic pulled back and away, exposing four lives as if they'd been dismembered on an operating table and Terra had been invited to do as she pleased with their vital organs.

"I'm gonna throw up…"

"You have five seconds, Terra, or I'll consider your choice void."

Terra flipped the switch.