"Fury, can I talk to you?"
The heroine whipped her head up and winced as her forehead pounded and her body ached. She was beginning to think that her olive branch had more negative effect than positive. A boy of about seventeen with a mane of shaggy black hair stood over her, peering through stereotypically emo glasses, sporting a scowl as impatient as acid.
"Oh. Chase… what's going on?"
He frowned at her greeting but ignored it. She groaned and massaged the bridge of her nose, trying to soothe her pounding headache.
"Wow… you must have been seriously trashed last night. It usually takes you seven shots to get your drunk. … And isn't twelve hangover material for you," he laughed, but was silenced by the look she gave him, which threatened death with nary a blink. "Star and I were supposed to see a movie… but she isn't feeling well. Apparently, aliens don't have the best tolerance of alcohol. She's kind of… puking."
"Lovely," she drawled.
"My thought exactly."
"You wanted to talk," she asked hastily, the casualty of their conversation itching at her nerves.
He nodded and sat next to her, cautiously taking the book from her hands.
Old memories and regret hung stiff in the air, palpable and ominous.
"Are you ok with this, me and Star… dating and everything?"
She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, trying to block out the lights that burned them.
"So it's official. She's now definitely your girlfriend."
"Yeah," he smirked. "…Yeah."
"So she isn't just some throw away you're going to fuck until you can find the scene-kid of your dreams?"
"C'mon, Fury. You know I wouldn't do that."
"Really? Don't I remember you having a habit of going through girls like you go through skinny jeans?"
"That was a months ago. People can change. You know how serious you and I were." He crossed his arm defensively.
"I also know how hard you had to try to be loyal to me. Monogamy doesn't exactly come easy to you."
He sighed and leaned his head back.
"I really don't want to have a fight, Fury. I treat Star really well."
"Will you stop calling me that," she requested frigidly, downing a glass of water.
" …?"
"The name… will you stop calling me the name? Fury. We aren't dating any more."
He stood and stretched.
"I will, but you never answered my question. Star, me. Is it bueno?"
"It's fine, as long as she's happy."
"And me?"
"As far as I'm concerned," she said matter-of-factly, "you're no one but my friend's boyfriend. We can start over as friends if you would prefer, but our connections got cut a long time ago."
She pulled the blanket closer to her skin and hoped that he wouldn't notice the water that was boiling without heat. She whispered her mantra into the comforter and looked up. He stared at her.
"…You're different," he concluded with a nod.
"How?"
"You aren't as… I dunno… you don't look as tired. Or you aren't as angry or… something. A year ago you would have bitten my ear off or sent me flying out a window… but you're talking to me."
"I reset my priorities. I'm controlling things better. Negative emotion used to control my powers and the positive used to unhinge them. By reforming my meditation, I balanced things out, made it easier to be normal. Thing are getting easier gradually… it's getting better."
"F-… Rae, I need to tell you something and I need you not to throw me against a wall."
She peered at him, suspicious, and raised an eyebrow waiting.
"That guy, Robin. I don't trust him and I don't like how close you are with him."
"You don't trust Robin… the hero of jump city… the guy that has probably saved your ass a thousand times without you really realizing it," she scoffed. "Yeah, that's completely understandable.
He sat up straight and grabbed her shoulders holding her gaze intently.
"I'm not saying he's evil… or… or a bad person. But I dunno… maybe… maybe he's a little too good, Rae. I mean, you're the daughter of evil. What if you're demon side gets loose?"
Raven glared at him and shook off his hands.
"That's already happened and he basically jumped into hell to save me. He's a good person."
"I just saying, Raven," he said tiredly, rubbing his forehead, "he's weird. The way he looks at you… like he's calculating something or sizing you up… like… like you're a game to him. Something for him to figure out. Just be careful before you go falling for him."
She blinked and opened her eyes wide. She winced as the light stung her eyes and made her head pulse and throb.
"The likelihood of that happening is basically how likely it is for a penny to land on it's ridge. He's my leader and my friend. That's all."
"Are you sure about that? You might want to think it over. Just don't trust someone who shouldn't be trusted."
"For the last time, Chase, he's trustworthy."
"The way he-"
"Enough!"
Black closed around the boy's neck and tightened as he began to sputter and cough, his hands pulling at the intangible ring around his throat, gasping, pleading for air. She slammed him against the floor, snarling, her eyes white and pupiless. Hands grasped her arms and lowered them.
"Raven, stop!"
Her eyes widened and stared into the worried mask, her violet irises returning, fearful, before her legs gave out and she collapsed, unconscious and red-handed.
Chasen backed against the couch, terrified, and scrambled out of the room, a hand on his neck.
"Cy! Cyborg! Beastboy! Titans!!!"
But no one came. He had forgotten it was Saturday. He forgot that Saturday meant that they were normal, and the Tower was to be recklessly abandoned by everyone but him and Raven.
So he skillfully pulled her onto his back and slowly carried her up the stirs, only to realize that taking the elevator would have been infinitely smarter since her room was on the top floor. So he opened the door to his room and set her down in his bathtub.
Opening the mirror, he pulled out his first aid kid and wet a towel. Wringing out the extra moisture, he put it to the side and drew out the smelling salts, waving them under her nose, cringing at the harsh sting that it gave his eyes. She moaned quietly and shifted and stilled again, asleep once more. He sighed and picked up the salts once more.
But curiosity stopped him. Her beauty stopped him.
He made sure his hand was sturdily placed on the edge, carefully leaned over, and tenderly rested his lips on hers. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what it would feel like if she kissed him back, but she began to stir, so he backed away and dabbed the towel against her forehead. Her eyes slowly opened and blinked before squinting shut immediately.
"Ugh, turn off the light! Hangover! Hangover!"
"Oh! Sorry!"
He reached out and slapped the switch down, and sat in the blue of the darkened bathroom.
"Thanks."
"…."
"What? What happened?"
"Well, you sort of strangled Chasen."
"…Oh. Well he deserved that," she shrugged.
"And then you fainted."
He paused and bit his lips, trying to keep his emotion undetectable. She twisted her fingers into knots, a nasty side effect of all that pent-up guilt.
"Rae… did you notice that there weren't any broken objects from last night?"
"Oh?"
"And you' weren't exactly contained either. Quite drunk in fact."
"How drunk?"
"You were dancing."
"Oh fuck," she groaned, a self-bemused grin on her face.
He sat on the edge and dabbed the cloth against her cheek, cooling and distracting her from her hangover. She offered a small smile in thanks.
"I was thinking-"
"Wow,"
" Oh, haha." He continued, "You know how anger used to control your emotions when your dad was still in there?"
"I seem to be able to remember that."
"Well I've noticed something, when you dream, you can usually feel, right?"
She nodded slowly, blushing a bit.
"Nothing blows up either in your dream or out of your dream. And nothing blew up when you were drunk," he said. "So maybe things only blow up when you're thinking about how to control your powers, maybe it only happens when you're conscious of your feelings. Does that make sense?"
"Conceivably. But I'm worried that if I work on this I could hurt people. Plus I have to find a day when I have free time and not a hangover."
"Fortunately, I whipped up some magic hangover milkshake when I got up."
"No free time," she countered.
He grinned evilly,
She scowled back.
"You forget that today is Saturday. You agreed to work on your powers. Besides, you owe me. I saved you from the cinema, you save me from… well… whatever. You owe me."
She stared at him, testing her will, but he was right. And she cracked.
"We'll train in the desert. But you're getting me the milkshake," she yawned, swallowing the painkiller he gave her.
"The desert? You're just thinking of training your powers. We're not going to the desert, we're going to a club."
"A club? … I don't dance. Or I avoid it as much as possible. Plus, there are people there! You're treating this as if it's completely trivial."
"I'm going to be there with a sedative if things get really out of hand. This way we know instantly if it works or not."
"………Fine. But I'm not going to have any fun."
-
(9:05 p.m.)
-
Raven hated herself for this.
First because she was going along with his plan and second…
Well second because she couldn't say no to him. Because she was afraid that Chasen was right. Robin was her friend, her bestfriend. And sure, they flirted on the occasion, but they were two teenagers who were obviously too dark, too preoccupied, and too socially maladroit to have a serious romance. They understood each other too much; they were too similar, too…
Nothing came to mind. She couldn't think of one reason that they wouldn't work or shouldn't be together.
But she shook her head of the ridiculous thought and went through her wardrobe once more.
And the fact that she was trying to look pretty for him didn't sit well with her either.
'You could always always wear the dress.'
"Don't you think that would be trying a little too hard, Bravery?"
'You are trying hard. So if you're trying hard, you might as well succeed. Now, the dress?'
She went to the back of her closet and pulled the garment out slowly, repulsed by her impulsiveness. But then again, that was what the wretched evening was about wasn't it?
Zipping it open she cringed at its vibrancy. The red dress stared back at her, the crimson joy mocking her absolute despondency.
But she stripped, and pulled it on, donning her converses to add a tiny bit of comfort to her already sour mood.
-
Robin thought himself a genius.
Not only had he discovered a potentially brilliant way to control Raven's powers, but he also got a date out of it.
Or at least he thought himself brilliant until she walked through the door, because at that point he forgot how to speak, breathe, and function as a human being.
"You ready to go, Birdbrain," she grumbled, rubbing her arm self-consciously.
"Uh… what?"
And as he finished that particularly brilliant sentence he was pushed out of the way by Cyborg and Beastboy, who were particularly fascinated by her choice of apparel.
"Dude! You look… dare I say it… hot!"
"Raven, you didn't tell me you had a dark side," Cyborg joked, prodding the fuming girl in the arm. "Well, I'll be damned. You do indeed look rather spiffy. "
"Agreed, dear friend, you do certainly look beautiful. If I were not sick, I am sure I would have had much fun tonight at the club of enjoyment, yet I am afraid that I would have been out shined by your radiant aura."
Robin watched from a distance as the girl's cheeks began to turn exponentially redder with her growing impatience and embarrassment. He laughed to himself, and took his keys out of his pockets, playing with them, giving himself time to breathe and collect himself, to get the teenage hormones out of his system. After all, though he was a hero, he was a teenager nonetheless, and when presented with his dream girl's bare legs, his mind wasn't exactly on the task ahead of him.
"Can we please go," the violet eyed girl pleaded, more willing to go to a club than hang around and have two idiots poke fun at her.
He dangled his key in front of her eyes and smiled cruelly.
"Open the garage and take a helmet."
"You're hilarious. We're flying there."
"You're in a red dress that stops above the knee. Don't you think the press would catch that? After all, you can't flash all of Jump City and get away with it."
"I'd rather be humiliated than dead," she growled venomously. "You drive like a madman on crack. How many times have you totaled that bike? I don't want my skull to be in the same condition as your headlights."
"I won't stand for our reputations to be soiled by your panty party, Rae-Rae," he countered smoothly, pausing only to laugh at her melting composure. "Go on, grab a helmet. You can have the cool black one that makes you feel like a racecar driver."
She waved a quick (and rather disgruntled) goodbye to her comrades and followed him into the garage, taking the helmet he shoved into her arms and inspecting it, for scuffs, marks, breaks, and anything she could use to question his credibility. But it was pristine, spotless, and Raven grumpily tugged on the gear and sat behind the Boy Wonder. She felt her evening whither as the engine revved.
"You'll like it. Trust me."
"I'm having trouble believing that."
"Just wrap you arms around me and don't let go," he instructed soothingly, taking her hands and bringing them around his torso. They both flushed slightly at the contact. But it wasn't like they hadn't touched before, so they hissed at themselves and tried to focus on other things, Raven trying to deny the obvious, and Robin keeping his mind in the wheels.
The wheels spun against the asphalt with a furious roar, screeching, screaming, sending them hurtling into the night. Raven gulped and clung to him in shock, her eyes praying to be close but forced open in terror and delight. The city sped behind them, buildings fleeing, lights becoming streaks of yellow, red, green, orange and white, rainbow like and dangerous. So, picking up on her excitement and apprehension, he wrung his hand around the throttle and swerved in front of a truck, laughing as she shrieked.
"Having fun?"
"No!" she shouted over the streets.
But he knew she was smiling.
"You're lying you're ass off."
"I'm not. You're driving sucks!"
"You're smiling," he nagged, nudging her with his back.
"I'm the farthest thing from happy."
"Do I have to turn my head to prove it?"
She gripped him tighter. "Don't… you…dare."
So they drove, him mocking, her threatening (well, actually, he did threatening as well), enjoying each other's voices and presence. And Raven, leaning into his back, forgot how scared she was, and allowed herself to acknowledge the butterflies, they way he made her smile, they way he made her value herself, value life, and how she always felt so weak yet so strong whenever he looked her way.
She was done running from herself. This night would be her testament to her bravery and strength. So she breathed in the tingle of snow in the air and imagined the flakes drifting down, and she felt genuinely excited.
The motorcycle slid calmly into a parking space and stopped, the kickstand set and poised for duty. He took her hand in his and guided her into the club, marveling at her dress, her body, her scent… all that drove him wild with lust and love and the pure need for all that she was.
He was a fool for her. So it didn't matter if he didn't say it aloud, because he knew what was in his heart.
The club pulsed fiery with bass, the speakers sending rhythmic pheromones through the atmosphere, which smelled of sweat, perfume, cigarettes, and alcohol. Raven sniffed and wrinkled her nose, but found that it hypnotized her, made her slightly numb. She took a seat next to Robin at the bar.
"Do I have to transfigure into an old lady? Or are you one of those special rich kids?"
"Yes to the latter, no to the former. But you shouldn't drink tonight. It would alter the variables."
"I'm not a guinea pig, Robin," she stated dryly, a wry smirk stretching across her face. But as he stared, her smirk faded, and her resolve did too. "Fine. Let's just… talk?"
"Sure."
"What… What kind of music do you listen to?"
"Classic Rock, Oldies. New stuff doesn't really appeal to me that much I prefer the good old Stones, Patty Smith, Led Zeppelin, …and Cohen. These people were lyrical geniuses. They just know how to rock."
"Agreed. But Led Z annoys me, they're music sounds… generic. But you don't like the Killers, Arctic Monkeys? No new stuff at all?"
"Arctic Monkeys are decent. But… it seemed like they're trying to be punk, I mean punk music has become such an affectation, we forget about the movements that started it."
"Robin, a music snob? I thought that you didn't judge," she teased. "You must have something that you like that you should hate. A guilty pleasure?"
He rested his jaw on his palm and stared at her as if inspecting something.
"You first," he challenged, beating his fingertips against the wooden barstool.
"Taylor Swift."
"Taylor Swift? You like Taylor Swift?"
"Her songs are good."
"But Taylor Swift," he said, astonished. "Her music is just… empty fluff!"
"Shut up. I know you jerk off to Our Song. You see, you think I don't know these things, but sometimes you leave the door open just a crack…"
"Oh, you comedian."
"You never answered, Bird Boy. Guilty Pleasure. Now. I'm not asking you for an explanation. Well… If it's really bad I might."
She ordered a ginger ale and stared at him, intently devious and clever.
"I'm never guilty about my taste in music." But he watched her eyebrow rise doubtfully and sighed. "I like… Panic at the Disco…"
Raven clasped a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter, but it leaked, fleeing, in short sputter bursts, building into a full on fit for hilarity.
"They're lyrics are good," he exclaimed defensively, trying not to notice how infectious her laughter was. "You said you wouldn't question me."
"I'm not criticizing am I?"
"Yeah, But you aren't exactly making me feel like a million bucks."
"It's not that they're bad. Granted, I don't like them, but they're so… anti-Robin. Whatever happened to the affectation that music has become? They seem particularly gimmicky and just a little… feminine."
"You listen to a country pop-princess."
"Emo band."
"Teenage fluff."
"Overly Metaphorical lyrics."
"Touché," they smirked.
They were silent for a long time, just sitting, watching the dancers, watching each other inconspicuously (or trying to), turning their heads when the other tried looking again.
-
(Titans Tower Research Room, 10:02 p.m.)
-
"I feel guilty," Beastboy admitted, typing at the keys.
"Of course you do," Cyborg shrugged, his eyes glued to the computer screen, "you were an asshole."
"So were you."
"No, I was supportive. I encouraged him. You… shouted in his face."
The green boy swiveled in his chair, turning his back to the monitor.
"Starfire was mean as well."
"Yeah, but she you know she gets touchy when she discovers that Robin isn't perfect. You just got pissed."
"He needed to say it."
"You're right," Cyborg said.
He stood and turned off his monitor, pushing in his chair and walking out the door, holding it open for his friend.
"Make up your mind. Was I an asshole or was I right?"
"You were right… but you were an asshole. You were making sure Robin could say it out loud, but you pressured him into it."
"I was a jerk."
"He needed to be jerked."
"I still feel guilty."
"Good. I was worried that you didn't have a conscience."
-
(Drop Night Club, Jump City South, 10:09 p.m.)
-
"Want a cigarette," the man offered, drunkenly leaning on the table. She pushed her chair back in disgust.
"No thanks," she said stoically, praying that Robin would return from the bathroom soon.
"How about a drink?"
"Really. No thank you."
"Would you-"
"I'm fine," she snapped. "Thank you."
"Thh-… thank me with a dance."
Raven shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her social awkwardness rendering her defenseless. So she just scooted away, her trying to stay invisible and boring, trying to somehow make her exotic pale skin and dark violet hair average and plain. She smirked sullenly at the whole irony of the situation, not knowing how to behave when her usual coldness was exactly what was required. She left some money on the bar and walked away, trying to outwalk the drunkard.
But he was persistent. Eerily so. And she found herself panicking slightly, momentarily forgetting that she had powers that could kill him within seconds. He lunged and stumbled, but grasped her arm, pulling himself up. His breath reeked of triple sec and gin, and something she couldn't identify.
"Let. Go." She commanded, staring him down eyes born of hate.
But he was too far past the line of coherency to realize who she was, so he just smiled stupidly and continued to offer her things, favors, stupid compliment that only contributed further to her repulsion.
She was frozen, both from disgust… and her role to protect the innocent… even if they were sinning shamelessly.
"Please. I want you to let go," she told him in a voice so solid and stonelike it stopped him in his tracks, his arm locked stiffly in place.
"Will you just let her go, please? My friend is really very shy."
Raven turned and smiled in thanks to the man who helped her. He brushed his blonde hair back with his fingers and gazed casually at the man, who gazed right on back, the clammy hand loosening, letting the mage's arm fall to her side.
"Thanks, mate."
The drunkard nodded and blinked slowly, traveling slowly to a table, collapsing in a chair, and pulling out a cell phone, which seemed to distract him enough to let Raven forget about him.
"Thank you," she muttered. "But I had it under control."
"You're welcome…?"
She nodded and spun on her heel, making a beeline for her barstool.
"Wait."
But she didn't.
The fact that he was a decent human being didn't mean that she would hang around and let him think that he was superior because he didn't think chivalry was dead. She worked hard for who she was and she wasn't about to give any gratitude to some guy who thought she needed saving.
She could accept help.
She could thank people.
But that didn't mean she needed to do either. Because she could take care of herself.
So she took her seat and wondered what was possibly taking her comrade so long. And she felt her anger bubble as she saw him in the corner, talking to an attractive and petite redhead, grinning, laughing, talking, being, all things that he should have been doing with her.
And it still wasn't snowing.
Her testament to her courage was beginning to seem like a flop.
"Give me two glasses of the strongest thing you have," she grumbled crabbily to the bartender.
If she was supposed to feel emotion tonight, uncensored real emotion, jealousy was not one of those emotions she wanted to deal with. If he wanted to ruin things for her, the least she could do was ruin his test. She winced as she swallowed and swallowed, the alcohol sinking down, burning her throat, until both glasses were empty and her gratitude was on the table. She sat.
And waited.
And waited.
For him to return, so she could piss him off, for him to return, so he could feel her hurt, even if it was slurred by the alcohol.
Her mind began to mist and slow, and Raven's last purely sober thought was of how pathetic she was; resorting to liquor to solve her problems, as if she was one of those morbidly obese stock brokers who cheat and take their clients to topless bars, as if she was one of those hookers that she had to pick off the streets on civilian duty.
She shrugged off the hand that tapped her back.
"Hey, sorry I took so long. There was this guy who gave me a little trouble."
"Like what, a blowjob," she asked icily, her courtesy for him hindered by her increasing intoxication. "I'm not stupid, Boy Blunder. If you're going to ditch me, don't lie about it."
"Lie, who-… her? No, no, no. She was the sister of the guy that gave me trouble, this guy did a Killer Moth and tried to hook me up with her."
Raven felt her stomach drop in guilt.
"So are you okay? You look really flushed?"
"N-no, I'm fine… just a… little hot," she spoke slowly, trying to mask her shame and her disobedience.
"Oh. Do you want-"
His eyes found the glasses, and his mask wrinkled with his furrowed brow.
"I told you that you couldn't drink."
"I didn't think you were coming back. I didn't… didn't… think that it mattered any more."
"Why didn't you come and ask me."
"I was angry," she answered plainly, trying to speak as simply and as little as possible.
"C'mon," he barked, grabbing her wrist gruffly. "We're going home."
Her jerked her arm, causing her to stumble off her barstool, giggling a little. He pulled her out of the club almost savagely, his care and worry for her either intensified or flattened. He tossed her coat at her and glared as she bent to pick it up. She staggered towards him, rubbing her arms.
"Can we go? … It's cold."
"We'll talk first."
"Why can't we talk… ow… talk when we get back to the tower?"
"Because by the time we get there you'll be drunk off your ass, …besides… the cold keeps you sober."
She shook her head roughly, her hair frizzing slightly.
"No. I'm freezing. Please."
"You'll live," he said, an almost cruel twist in his voice. "You can't do this anymore. First the olive branch, now this? It's irresponsible. What would happen if we got an alert at this very moment? You could put yourself in danger. You could put the city in danger."
"W-… why do you even care?" she whined, clumsily sitting down on the ground. "You… you don't care about me anyway. Just this stupid city. Only y-your job."
"Of course I care about you."
"No, you care about yourself… just like Chase."
He sighed and ran his hand though his hair. Grabbing her under her arm.
"Raven, get up."
But she leaned back and yawned.
"Raven… get up!"
"Stop it!" She shouted, smacking his hand away. "Just leave me alone! Stop doing this to me."
"Doing what?"
But she looked away, her eyes focused on her palm. Robin, focused, confused, pulled her up and walked her to the R-cycle and let her lean against it, her eyes avoiding him. She began to shiver, but her jacket remained in her hand.
"Rae, what's wrong. I don't care about the drinks, okay? It's no big deal. Just tell me what's wrong."
She shook her head again.
"C'mon, Rae," he hushed quietly, flattening her hair and tucking it behind her ears.
She turned to him, staring at the mask that was only an inch from her face.
"Kiss me."
Robin blinked and took a step back.
"What?"
"Kiss me."
"No. You're drunk."
"I'm not an idiot," she stated, staring at him with surprising sobriety. "I maybe drunk… but I'm not stupid. I'm str-… I'm straight enough to know what I want. And I want you… to kiss me."
He Pput her jacket over her shoulders and kept his eyes away from her.
"Do you not want to kiss me?"
"What I want has nothing to do with this," he strained against clenched teeth. "You're drunk. That would be taking advantage of you. I'm not going to do that."
"God, Boy Blunder… hasn't…ugh… anyone ever told you that chivalry is dead? I'm not expecting you to be sensitive. I'm asking you to take advantage of the situation."
"Put on your helmet. We're going home."
"No. Say you don't want to kiss me, and I'll back off. But I'm tired of being lied to."
"I don't want to kiss you."
And she looked stunned.
And it began to rain.