Day 3

Undercover

Author's notes: This story fragment straddles a fine line between the T and M rating. If you're highly sensitive about adult content you may want to skip this particular one shot.

All characters within copy write DC Comics and Warner Bros

Song snippets "Cheap Thrills" by Sia

The club was dimly lit, painfully loud, and uncomfortably crowded. Beastboy had stood in the corner for a long while, trying to concentrate on his mission and ignore the diverging animal impulses that had him on edge. The Titans didn't go on undercover missions too often, but when they did Robin was strict, making what he expected abundantly clear. And it was always clear that he would tolerate no slips in character. This was all about fact gathering, staying under the radar and that was impossible if the criminals you were watching had even the slightest inkling you weren't what you appeared to be.

Beastboy appeared to be a rather average looking man, his blonde hair falling into his green eyes as he bobbed his head lightly to the music. He looked utterly relaxed as he leaned against the wall, a small smile on his face. Internally he was fighting a silent battle with a part of himself that felt a little like a skittish rabbit, wanting to bolt from the loud sounds and a darker part of his psyche that wanted to use the concealing cover of the dark room to stalk and pick off one of the weaker, uncertain people that stood a little away from the dancing mass at the middle of the club. Unconsciously he licked his lips, his eyes assessing each of the stragglers that were far too removed from the safety of their undulating herd.

"Watch yourself," a sudden voice said above the music and he looked to his left, glaring down on a mop of black hair that had been curled slightly in preparation for their outing.

"It's under control," he grumbled, his nose scrunching as his team mate looked up at him and the smell of alcohol caught his attention. "You should be worrying about yourself, I think."

"I'm fine. I just needed to relax. Just a tiny bit." She held her thumb and index finger up to show him the small space between them.

"Rae, I think maybe . . ," he began only to be interrupted.

"You're a horrible date, Gar!" The words were loud enough that several women glanced in their direction, giggling. "How could you bring me here and then not want to dance with me?"

"I . . . I . . ," he sputtered, pushing off from the wall. She was his "date" tonight, when they entered the club she had been on his arm after all. "I didn't think you'd want to. I know you're shy."

"That was the whole point of coming, right? To get me out of my box?" She made air quotations wildly before her hands flew to the flare of her hips.

"Ummm . . . yeah, okay. Let's dance, then." He wanted to ask her if she was play acting or if she had honestly forgotten exactly what was going on. Raven was more than relaxed, she was in fact, pretty drunk. He knew the crowded club was harder for her to deal with than anyone else on the team and he understood why she'd tried to numb herself a bit. She never drank though and had practically no tolerance. He took her arm, partly to guide her, partly to insure she didn't tip over and began to lead her toward the dancefloor.

"No," she told him, her hand tugging at his shirt for a moment, her head shaking.

"I thought you . . ."

"It's too crowded. Over there," the empath insisted, pointing back to the dark corner he had been inhabiting in the first place. The small group of women had moved on and it was the closest thing to private the room had to offer.

"Alright," Beastboy grumbled, sighing loudly. Together they returned to the corner, Raven pulling away from him slightly before turning back to face him. Her hands landed heavily on his chest and for a moment she just blinked up at him, unmoving. Then slowly, slightly, her hips began to sway. The song was upbeat, the rhythm simple and easy to move to.

Come on, come on turn the radio on,

It's Friday night and I won't be long.

Gar jumped slightly when her hands began to slide down his chest, her hips swaying faster. Lightly her fingertips skated downward before grabbing at his wrists, jerking his hands forward. Her eyes, dark blue with her holoring on, focused on her hands holding his own.

Gotta do my hair, I put my makeup on

It's Friday night and it won't be long.

The pad of her thumb pressed against the very tip of his own, putting pressure on the curved, inhuman nail there until it nearly pierced her skin. It almost seemed she was checking to insure that it was still there, despite the fact she couldn't see it. That, perhaps, she was reassuring herself that he was still him, regardless of the façade her eyes perceived. A second later she guided his hands to her hips, which where shifting and twirling in time with the music.

Til I hit the dance floor, hit the dance floor

I got all I need.

No I ain't got cash, I ain't got cash

But I got you Baby.

He was going into sensory overload. He could barely hear the crowd anymore or the music. He couldn't smell the sweat and cheap beer. He couldn't even remember who he was supposed to be on the look out for. There was nothing in the world except Raven. His ears tilted forward to focus on the sounds of her breath as she moved and the strumming of her heart, which had become the music she swayed to. Dark pupils dilated to watch her hips . . . full and ripe, sway tantalizingly. His fingers flexed, threatening to leave holes in the thin skirt she wore. She was closer now. Had he pulled her forward or had she moved of he own volition?

Baby I don't need dollar bills to have fun tonight

I love cheap thrills

Her hips knocked into his own and he made a hungry, needy sound that could never escape human lips. Luckily they were alone in their moment and she was the only one to hear. Her hands were become restless, wondering over his chest and up to his shoulders. She pulled herself closer, eyes that had been closed opening in what appeared to be surprise when she felt what was sandwiched between her body and his own.

But I don't need no money, as long as I can feel the beat

I don't need no money, as long as I keep dancing

The tension made him freeze, a particularly useless animal instinct that had rarely been of any help to the changeling. Raven continued to stare blankly, looking past his shoulder and into the strobing lights beyond. The hand that had fisted in his shirt loosened. Any moment now she was almost certainly going to seriously injure him and blow their cover. Her hand lifted and his eyes closed, preparing for the blast of dark energy. Her fingers, cool and soft, trailed the outside edge of his ear instead. He heard her sigh in relief and that bubble of tension burst. Her hips began to move to the music again and grunted loudly. She hadn't retreated, her hips grinding against his own. The eyes that had been looking over his shoulder were now intently honed on his.

"Rae . . ," he moaned, his fingers flexing again, this time digging into her flesh instead of just her skirt.

"It's okay," she muttered breathlessly.

Baby I don't need no dollar bills to have fun tonight

I love cheap thrills

"We . . . I . . . we . . ." His arguments against what they were doing kept dying somewhere in between his brain and mouth.

"Please," she keened, so soft and desperate it pained him. "Please don't make me stop." The entire thing was wrong. She was drunk, not just from the alcohol she had consumed, but from the lust that hung in the air as young people groped in the dark. They were supposed to be watching for . . . for . . . for someone. They were working. Undercover. A lie. What was happening between them wasn't real. Raven pressed harder, her hand once more moving to close around the pointed tip of his ear. He liked the sensation, but realized that what she was doing wasn't an attempt at stimulating him. Her eyes were intently on his because they were still his eyes and when she'd pressed against his claw, the touching of his ears, she was affirming that she knew who he was. They were undercover, cloaked by technological glamor. That was true, but what was happening in that moment, it was real.

"Raven," he growled softly against her ear and she jolted against him slightly. His hips began to follow her own, hands possessively clamped over her hip bones. Lightly his lips ghosted over her forehead, pressing at her chakra stone. Her body jerked again and he wondered fleetingly if the glittering protrusion actually had some level of sensation or if it was simply that he was reciprocating her signs of recognition. Faster they moved, no longer in time with the beat of the thundering music. Her fingers were tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling with a pressure that was nearly painful. Tiny droplets of blood bloomed, staining the cream colored skirt as claws dug deeper still. Faster, faster . . .

. . . and then she froze, her entire body stiffening. She made a soft, strained sound in her throat, her eyes snapping shut. Overhead a strobe light popped loudly and then a second one. The dark club was filled with wavering light and loud sounds, however and no one seemed to notice. Beastboy momentarily considered taking a step back and ending the encounter, but then the scent created by what had just happened, what he'd helped make happen, invaded his awareness. His hips bucked, his lips slamming into her own to muffle the very loud, very animal sounds that were trying to escape him. Raven shuddered almost violently, clutching him closer before going limp in his embrace. Panting, he lifted his head, looking down into eyes that were barely open.

"I felt you . . . " she began breathlessly, the loud trilling of the cellphone in Beastboy's pocket interrupting her admission. The changeling fished the phone out of his back pocket, bringing it up to his ear.

"Hel . . ."

"This is the third time I've called you." Robin informed with no preamble, his irritation making his words sharp.

"Sorry."

"I sent you five or six texts."

"I'm sorry. It's loud in here."

"We're waiting for you, in the car. I was able to gather enough intel for tonight." There was a pause, followed by a weary sigh. "Have you seen Raven?"

"Umm, yeah. Yeah, I see her now. We'll be out in a minute." He pocketed the phone once more and studied the woman that slumped heavily against him for a long moment. "It's time to go," he told her softly.

"Okay." Together they headed for the exit, the empath leaning heavily upon him as they walked. Raven was probably going to kill him tomorrow after she sobered up. What they had done was raw, impulsive, and very public. It was wrong. But, as her hand closed around his own, as her fingertips began to worry again at his claws, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was real.