Yes, I KNOW you silly nitwits! Calm down, you lot! Isn't like I'm dead! And I'm posting now, so you may smile and read this epically long chapter. No, I don't have an excuse other than laziness, but I swear to finish this story by the end of November. Maybe. But yeah, I just wanted to thank all of you guys for the views, faves, alerts, and reviews. It really means a lot to me and all of this great feedback really inspires me. So grateful.
I've admittedly taken some creative liscence with their ages, since it is never directly stated in the show. I always imagined Raven's birthday in the show to be her sixteenth, and Robin to be older than her by eight months or so. So, ages; Raven's sixteen, Robin almost seventeen, Starfire is sixteen, Beast Boy is fifteen, and Cyborg is eighteen. I understand if it doesn't really work, it's just how I picture it, even if I'm wrong.
Also, this chapter might seem to suggest that BB has some feelings for Rae, but I assure you, it is STRICTLY RxR. I think BB does love her intensely, but not as a romantic interest. As family.
Disclaimer: Consider it disclaimed.
She didn't need to be in their vicinity to feel the waves of their emotions, the steady push and pull of happiness and comfort. She felt it radiating through her floor, seeping in like steam, smelling of clove, tasting of honey. When her feet hit the floor it would warm her soles, when she closed her eyes she could see them kiss. Raven felt Starfire's hair brush against her eyelashes, and in return Chasen's hands would expertly caress her waist.
December ninth.
Raven wished she could sleep forever. Run forever. Somehow escape from the perpetual stream of positive emotion she could not bring herself to feel in actuality.
She turned sideways, her violet hair splayed across Robin's pillows, and glanced at the clock; ten thirty two. In one hour, twenty-eight minutes, and fourteen seconds, Robin's birthday will have come to a close, and any hope of delivering his present would be lost. Her hands gripped the blanket hard and she stared at the ceiling, wondering exactly how long she was going to let herself wait. When the nurse said he would be up in a few days, she truly expected that to happen like clockwork, completely forgetting how medicine and bodies work. Everything is unpredictable.
Nothing can be promised. Nothing is ever truly constant, other than the fact that life is never linear.
She stretched lazily and took her communicator in her closed palm, debating on weather she had the energy to flip it open, ask a doctor, a Titan, for any update on his status.
'He's fine," she thought, trying her hardest to convince herself of her own convictions.
Tap-Ta-Tap sounded the door, and Raven froze, every muscle in her body hitching, her stomach sprouting worms and her heart jolting with the sound. He was here. She would see him, see him healthy and awake and battle-scarred.
But the knock sounded again, leading Raven to realize he wouldn't knock on his own door. She picked herself up and away from the bed and opened the door, welcomed by the sight of a frantic Beast Boy, who, upon seeing her, pulled her roughly into his arms. His green eyes pressed into the empath's shoulder and he let out a quivering breath, heavy with both his relief and worry.
"Where've you been? We haven't seen you in days! I thought— I mean, I know it's stupid— but I-I thought that you might have hurt yourself or... I know thats not you, you never would. But with Robin not being awake... Why haven't you come to talk to us?"
Detangling herself from her comrade's awkward lanky hug, Raven sighed.
"I needed some alone time."
"...But why aren't you in your room?"
"Too quiet," she shrugged awkwardly, not knowing if telling Beast Boy that she missed the way Robin smelled was the best idea. Minimalism seemed key.
"But his room is soundproofed... and you're wearing his shirt."
She groaned softly and leaned her head against the wall, her toes curling against the cool tile of the floor outside. Her head pulsed agonizingly, everything ached; Raven wondered if she was falling apart at the seams. Given all she was feeling, experiencing, even back on meditation and all, she wouldn't have been surprised. An emotion, any, though anger and irritation occasionally slipped under the radar, used to set things ablaze and lead to destruction.
But she was pining for someone, gleeful and miserable at the same time. Overcome with sadness and yet still hopeful. She would have thought the building to be in shambles, yet it was standing strong and no more than a lightbulb had suffered her wrath.
"You ok?" Beast Boy asked, sure he was going to receive an answer. But as she just sighed again, he took hold of her elbow and began to walk, earning an indignant grunt from the sorceress. "Come on. You need some food."
And to both of their surprise, Raven followed along passively, more like a rag doll than anything. She simply didn't have the energy to argue anymore. Hadn't slept enough for that. Life was to fast for her to really keep up with, so for the time being, and just for the time being, she decided that it was best for her to simply float along the surface and follow wherever the currents lead. And apparently the currents were pushing her towards the kitchen.
Her stomach seemed to approve of this holy guidance.
"What do you want?"
"Tea," she said, utterly detached.
Beast Boy frowned and sat heavily in the adjacent chair.
"You need to put something in your system," he insisted.
"I don't want anything else. Just some tea. Mint."
Her suggestion was met with a frustrated, determined leer and the sound of the chair scraping the floor as he stood up.
"No. Just food. You're skinny. No complement intended."
Stomping towards the refrigerator, he grumpily pulled open the door, and thus a large cacophony of bangs and clanks and clinks were heard from the stove. Raven didn't care to turn. A little bit of noise was refreshing.
She looked fleetingly at the old analog clock above the coffee cabinet; Ten fifty-six. One hour. Just one. No sign of him.
"What did you get Robin for his birthday?" Beast Boy called from her blind spot. "I got 'im a game."
"You've got him in the bag. Sure surprised me."
"You may be a scrawny, pathetic version of Raven, but you've still got it. That quickness. With words."
Raven swallowed slowly, a jab of hurt digging through her neck. "...Why so angry, Goodall?"
"Do you really not know? Seriously, Rae?"
She shrugged blandly, her face ever stoic. The sound of an exasperated sough rang in her ears like a gong. Her friend, the jovial, loud, uncensored child, was acting as he never had before. Acting straightforward, no jokes to chase down any bitterness of truths he didn't care to notice.
"Look at you. Like, really look at yourself; skinny as fuck, dirty hair and all. You smell like shit. You don't resist anything, not mean to anyone, no self-dependence. You aren't Raven. Raven doesn't sit around, waiting for her problems to solve themselves! Even if she can't do anything, even if she can't solve the problem, she would confront it." Something metallic banged on the stove, startling her. "And jumpy as hell! I swear Rae. This isn't who you are."
"What if I've changed?"
"Then change back. I know you care about him. But you're destroying yourself from the inside."
"I'm fine," she curtly barked.
"You want to be. I want you to be, and so does everyone else... but you know the truth." Beast Boy walked in front of her and scraped the contents of the pan onto her plate. "Maybe you should take a break from emotions for a tiny bit. I dunno, maybe some more mediation. You're not used to it yet, right? Ease into it. You'll adjust. Just slow it down a bit, okay?"
Raven nodded hesitantly before a blink of astonishment flashed across her face as she took in her food.
"Eggs?"
"What about them?" He asked absently, rummaging through the couch cushions in search of the remote.
"You made me eggs. You're a vegan. You... condemn eggs."
"I'm more worried about your protein deficiency than I am about my convictions or an unfertilized egg. You're family. Clucky isn't. Right?"
The changeling grinned and placed a fork in front of her.
"Eat."
Raven cautiously took the fork in her hand and pushed it under a morsel of egg. It felt strange and slightly runny in her mouth, but it tasted fine and she sent her green comrade an appreciative stare. He had probably never made eggs in his life, she realized after her fourth bite. Feeling the food drop into her stomach, warm and sustaining, was to her a bit of life restored, a bit of herself given back.
"Can I have—"
"Some tea?" Beast Boy asked, setting in front of her a hot mug wafting the tingle of mint and earth from it's brim. He took his seat across from her and leaned his chin on the table. "You've earned it."
She took the cup in her hands, gently waved her hand through the steam, and looked away from her food into the emerald eyes of the shapeshifter. Though the time in which this change had occurred was totally unbeknownst to Raven, she quite abruptly noticed that his eyebrows and bone structure had morphed into a far more angular set than the one of just a few days prior. And he was taller. Yes, by a few inches, the analyzed sharply.
"When was the last time you called me 'Dude'?
He shrugged and reached for her tea, hoping to sample a sip. Raven, her eyes on the clock, pulled her cup closer, quite accustomed to Beast Boy trying to be stealthy. He straightened.
"Dunno. Maybe I grew up a bit."
"When did that happen?"
"... You know as well as I do."
She nodded her head, took another sip, and let in a deep breath.
"It doesn't feel like December, does it?"
She smirked into her mug.
"I suppose not," he sighed. "It's cold as hell though."
"So not that cold then."
A tiny grin wormed its way onto her face as Beast Boy realized she made a joke that wasn't at his expense.
"I suppose not," he said again.
"I meant how quickly it passed. November. It doesn't feel like we even had one. Maybe it's because you nitwits didn't bother me on Thanksgiving."
"Or you were too trashed to notice."
"Pot calls the kettle what? You weren't quite the poster child for sobriety."
"You were dancing in your underwear!"
"And you humped Cyborg's leg," she countered hotly, a challenging look searing from her eyes.
Both were silent and tried to recall their alleged humiliation but each drew blanks. They then both smiled vaguely, and the silence sat back in once they realized that they had managed to begin to live with their leader. To laugh.
Raven sipped her tea quietly. It was too watery and slightly too hot. It burned her tongue when she brought the rim to her lips.
'Eleven fifteen,' she thought, the ticking hand's steady rotation making her eyes stick to it like glue.
"Rae?"
She looked at him blankly, an eye brow raised. He began, speaking to her in the only way he knew she would respond to. Bluntness.
"Do you love Robin? Like, in love?"
He waited until she answered, which felt like an eternity. There was nothing to do other than watch her face, devoid of emotion, and hope for the answer he wanted.
"I'm not sure. I... care about him," Raven said carefully, obviously not used to saying what she felt in words, obviously bewildered at the feeling of those particular words on her tongue, "But what exactly I feel for him I have no idea. I'll figure that out when I talk to him. I don't know now. I don't have an answer."
Beast Boy nodded, understanding yet disappointed. He chuckled lowly to himself and caught her attention.
"What?" She asked flatly.
"Do you remember when you left on Thanksgiving? Robin was so angry. It was almost a little bit funny, but he was so upset and agitated, ready to explode, you know? It was impossible to laugh at him when he looked like that. I guess through all of that fury he was really hurt that you left him. And I was an ass and demanded that he tell us that he loved you. I shouted at him, actually. Because were scared he would hurt you if he couldn't say it and we all knew it was true. Even me. Me. He was about to say it when you walked in."
"Are you going to make me say that to you about him?"
"No," he shrugged, pushing her fork to her, encouraging her to continue eating.
"That's a pretty big double standard."
"No it's not. Obviously, you don't know. So why would you of all people say something you might not mean? Be forced to say it? No. Robin knew he loved you and knew he wanted a relationship with you. We didn't want you to get hurt."
Eleven Twenty-two.
Raven gripped the warm cup in her hands and let the steam rise, moistening her face. Everyone was talking about him as if he was already dead. Like they were getting over him, moving on. That, she couldn't understand. They had been living together for practically four years, since she had just turned thirteen. How could they be going forward so easily? Not a wreck like her. Not sleeping in his bed to catch whatever scent or sight she could to keep his memory close. Not wearing his clothes or reading his books or dreaming of him love or his death night after guilt-filled night. It almost made her angry, almost hurt her, to see them without proper grief.
"Stop talking about him in past tense. If your eyes haven't failed you the way your brain has, you may notice he's still breathing," she berated coldly.
"Only meant it by way of it happening during Thanksgiving. Honest. Okay?"
"You don't get it do you?" spat Raven, clutching the fork tight in her hand. "This is my fault. I killed another human being, I almost killed Robin. Do you think I'm supposed to feel okay about this like the rest of you? That I can forgive myself for doing that to someone? I can't, Gar."
Beast Boy narrowed his eyes in alarm at the use of his name. Raven hardly addressed him as Beast Boy, opting instead for nimrod or moron.
"Maybe you wanted to kill him."
"What?" Her voice was sharp and guarded.
"He would have killed Robin. You might not have known it, but your powers most likely thought he was asking to be murdered for threatening something special to you."
"That's ridiculous. I got angry and my powers got out of hand. Hurt him. And Robin."
"You got angry because he was taunting you while planning to kill Rob. Overshot your power and didn't hit a bulls-eye is all I see." He shrugged and took a sip of her tea. "You can't be held totally responsible. Just for missing. I mean- Rae? Oh, Rae..."
Raven held her knees tight to her chest, her nails digging in so hard the skin began to tear under them. Back lifting and falling sporadically with tremulous breaths and gasps, teardrops fell from her eyes like a hazardous dam, the pressure held up cracking the walls at the center.
Beast Boy had never seen her cry. Watching it, seeing her unguarded and sick looking, was fascinating but terrible. The knot in his throat felt more like a firm hand trying to throttle him.
He held her heart shaped face in his palms and tried to soothe her, but she would shake her head and rip away from him, refusing to be comforted. In the end he just talked to her about whatever came to mind. In this case it was his vegetarianism. Then Cyborg, then Halloween, then his messy room. But once he had gone full circle and still saw her burying her eyes in her knees, he fell silent. So he just let his hand sit in her hair and pass over the oily tangled strands.
He gripped her under her arm and pulled until she stood and yet again allowed herself to be dragged along the always. As they reached Robin's room and punched in the keys, Beast Boy wiped the sticky tears off of Raven's cheeks and sat her on the bed as he went into the bathroom.
Carefully searching for liquid soap, he rifled through Robin's cabinet, pushing away shaving cream and painkillers. On the top shelf sat a bottle of translucent blue body wash that smelled something like soap and lemon. He poured six capfuls into the empty tub and let the water run until it was full and frothy with white soap. Towels, wash cloths, shampoo, conditioner.
"Rae?" he said quietly as he poked his head out of the door. "Are you okay?"
It was too easy a question to answer. She lay still, curled around herself, mewls of worry and bitter sadness sounding from her. And though at first she curled herself into a tighter ball, reminding Beast Boy of a scared child, she eventually let him pick her up and carry her into the bathroom, as she didn't seem to want to place her feet on his floor.
He rested her on the toilet lid and turned around.
"I won't look," he promised, indicating that the running bath was for her.
"Thank you," she said hoarsely.
A splash and a small "you can look now" alerted him that he was allowed to turn.
"Do you want me to wait for you outside?"
She was still again, her eyes resumed their depression. If one was to wait and watch her, they would think her made of wax, frigid and and eerie in their likeness to the real thing, and only a shuddering hiccup or a blink could tell you she was alive. In this, the shapeshifter was thankful for the tears.
He sighed and took a wash cloth, lathered it with soap and water, and carefully wet Raven's dry shoulders, beginning to scrub away at her skin. Smirking, he knew that the very thought of this situation would have been impossible a week ago. That he would be the one taking care of the shrewish mage, with her sarcasm and her nearly cruel amusement at his failures. But suddenly mean, witty, strong Raven was meek and lost. And he had to be the mature one, something almost unheard of in the boy. So he continued his crusade on the dirt her body had accumulated.
"Rae, you need to help me out a little," he gulped as he declared her back, shoulders and arms pristine. He coughed nervously, blushing at the idea of having to clean her more protected areas. Then, with an almost avoiding eye, he placed the washcloth in her hand and turned away respectfully, waiting for her to cleanse what needed to be cleansed.
There was a quiet shlop and the washcloth hit him in the back. He grinned and grabbed the shower head and turned it on Raven, soaking her hair and face until she looked rather like an violet sheepdog. She sputtered and lifted the hair away from her face before she magicked a small wave of water and send it flying into her green friend's face, a tiny, rusty laugh croaking out of her mouth.
"Are you sure that was a laugh? Didn't eat a turkey whole? No dying animal in that stomach of yours?"
"No, idiot," she sneered. "Just your mother."
He laughed and turned the shower back on spraying her in the face.
"It's good to see you moving again. I don't like wimpy catatonic Raven. She worries me."
"I'm not exactly fond of mature Beast Boy. I can't stand you if I can stand you."
"So me being responsible is worse than me being annoying."
"As unfathomable as it is to think of something being worse than your personality on a regular day, I think this just might top it." She wiped water off her eyebrows and finally turned to him, a smile so soft taking form, it almost made her look like a different person. "But thank you."
"Don't mention it," Beast Boy said quietly, pouring some shampoo onto her head and massaging squeezing, and rubbing her scalp until he no longer felt the grease and dirt under his fingers. Within that small joking dialogue, in which she declared the brotherly changeling intolerable, she had told him quite openly, without any words, how grateful she was for him being there for. For taking care of her and letting her be dependent.
She would never say it out loud, but the fact that she let him wash, comb, and condition her hair was proof of it. After much pain, her hair was finally tangle free and she was clean once more, and looking far healthier.
"Turn, cover," she ordered, ensuring that Beast Boy had indeed turned and covered his jester's eyes before standing, drying herself off with a towel, and putting on a change of clothes Beast Boy had taken from her room.
Steam poured out of the bathroom door as it opened, a blast of cooler air hitting Raven in the face. Cold, she climbed into bed, exhausted, embarrassed by her hysterics, and sad at the fact that it was now twelve thirty. Beast Boy unplugged the clock and turned it away from her.
"He will wake up. And that day can be he birthday. Get some sleep." He kissed her forehead goodnight, and to his surprise, she returned it with a peck to his cheek. She sneered at his shocked expression.
"Don't get used to it, jackass. Go to sleep."
About to leave the room, he stopped, faced her, and asked one final question.
"What did you get him for his birthday?"
"Plane tickets. Paris. We like it there."
Several hours after the door clicked shut, Raven lay still, caught between layers of sleep and clarity. Her thoughts were random but her eyes were open, she felt chilled currents of air flowing into the room from the window. And through the slowly closing eyes, she was painfully aware of the thinly wrapped present she hid from herself, safely stowed in his bedside stand.
'Paris,' she thought, the memory of brioche and bouillabaisse pushing away her subconscious.
It was three in the morning and Raven had no idea how she was going to pull herself out of bed once the sun rose. Even worse, she was beginning to realize that she might not be able to live without him. Weather it meant she was in love, she didn't know, but she knew that the thought terrified her. She was independent. She was strong. And she was proud as hell, stubborn as a bull, and aggressive to the brim. She didn't want that taken away. To be reduced to what she was this week, a coward with unstoppable tear ducts and an inability to function, was less attractive than Plasmus on a bad day.
Still, it was impossible to ignore the tearing of her gut or the leaping of her heart when the image of the masked boy drifted into her head. The amount of joy in her chest balanced out the apprehension in her mind, making it impossible to choose a path, to determine exactly what she herself found true. How could she be with him if he loved her and if she didn't love him back? How could he love her when she nearly killed him?
"Azarath Metrion Zinthos. Azarath Metrion Zinthos..." she almost hummed her mantra, her mind weighed down with fatigue. The world always seemed more easier after those word were said, her Azarthian husky and course in her throat, the language like an artifact of the cruelest times. It was strange that it comforted her. But it did. Even though no one was there to whisper it soothingly in her ear. She didn't need anyone to. She didn't need anyone period.
She herself laughed mockingly at that lie.
She rolled on her side to look away from the plain ceiling, trying to fall asleep, when something changed. Skin, soft but rough, brushed against her leg. She knew the scent of the enigma as if the aroma had been branded into her mind with a burning spear.
He wasn't wearing his mask. His eyes were deep and they met hers with his fiery intensity. She forgot the way his bare eyes made her feel.
The silence was heavy. Uncomfortable. He was awake, and this comforted her far less than she thought it would.
But neither knew what to say. Robin was scratched and bandaged and bruised. Raven was the one who hurt him. Robin knew what he felt. Raven didn't.
And yet both of them wanted to be in the other's embrace. But the awkwardness was too much for either of them to overcome.
Raven was the first to speak, her voice raspy, "Happy Birthday."
"Thank you."
They looked away from each other, knowing full well the the silence would settle in again.
"The nurse says I can't fight this week. Or my stitches will tear."
"Good. You need time."
"For what?"
"Recovery," she said slowly, as if unsure.
He rested his head on his pillow and closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling. Her eyes, though diligently trying to avoid looking at him, wandered to his chest, chiseled yet thin even through his shirt, marked with stitches and bruises and cuts. Face bruised. Shoulder bandaged, eye blackened. Robin was in a terrible state. In her mind, Raven was in his arms.
"I'm sorry," she said shakily.
He looked up at her and made eye contact for the what seemed like the first time. "It's okay. Only to be expected, I guess."
"I don't understand. I lost con-"
"Because of your meditation."
"What?"
"Because of your meditation," he repeated, nodding. "Well think about it. You used to be challenged by positive emotion. Now that you focus on positive emotion storing you powers instead of releasing them, it seems normal that negative emotion conflicts."
"But I can feel sadness without incident," she pointed out stiffly.
"Yes, but it's relative, isn't it? Depends on the person. You don't seem to think sadness is linked to your powers so they aren't. Speculatively."
"So if I said anger isn't linked then it isn't."
"Doesn't seem like it works like that, does it?"
"No," Raven said darkly. "It doesn't."
"So don't be upset. You didn't know it would happen." He smiled lightly, trying regain her attention, but her eyes refused to look into his. She bit down on her lip, clenched, her teeth, all to stop the tears she felt in her clenched throat.
"I did, though." She rested her chin on her knees. Her voice was harsh and gravely as always "I knew I would be hurting you one way or another when I said those things to you, and I didn't hesitate for a second. I was too damn scared you would hurt me. Or that I didn't deserve you. Something along those lines. But I can't not be told this isn't my fault... when we both know it is."
"I was the one who lost control."
"I killed him."
Robin leaned away, aghast. He stared at her on baited breath.
"You what?"
"I didn't mean to. I lost it. My powers crushed him and his organs couldn't function."
"Rae, couldn't you have healed him?"
"It isn't like I wanted any of this to happen!" She growled, her hair whipping around her face. "Had I tried to heal him he only would have died quicker. Why do you think you were in the hospital for so long?"
Robin huffed and cracked his knuckles, then his wrists. He rubbed a tired hand over his exposed eyes and turned to Raven, staring at her. Violet hair soaked his pillow, the hair drying upon it, still gleaming with dampness in the hazy moonlight. Her skin was pale as ever, porcelain and dainty to match a sharp but somehow gentle face. The Raven he remembered. The Raven that never left his thoughts. His fantasy. But as he took in all the beauty that he had so missed, the grace and mystery, he noticed she didn't look as healthy. She was skinny. Not her usually healthy slimness, not even thin, but scrawny. Sick. He raised himself and crawled to where she lay, flat, staring at the ceiling, and kneeled over her, his hands just near her shoulders, as if itching to pin her under his weight.
She stared back blandly as he, on all fours, stared at her from above.
"Why do this to yourself, Rae?"
"..."
"I asked you a question," he said.
"Because I thought you were going to die. I felt sick. Do you want to try eating when faced with potential murder of someone close? And if you were the murderer? If you sent Star into a coma, you wouldn't leave her side."
"Why is it always Star?"
Her eyes narrowed into a cat like leer.
"What do you mean 'why is it always Star'?"
"How clear do I have to be?" Robin asked. Hardly blinking, he looked down at her, her delicate frame so close to his. "I told you before that I love you. Starfire doesn't enter into it. She has Chasen. And I don't care."
"What if I don't know how I feel about you? What if I say things I don't mean, lie, or hurt you out of cowardice?"
"You're in my room. You sleep in my clothes. You didn't eat or sleep because I wouldn't wake up. Call me insane, but I that there's something to that. We can always figure things out as we go along."
"And if I fuck up?" She questioned, her heart beginning to hitch at the nearness of his skin.
He shrugged.
"Then you fuck up. We're both fucked up already, so it's bound to happen."
Raven inhaled softly as he lay down next to her. He smelled like soap. And she felt her desire for him spike as she felt his breath on her shoulder. Swallowing uselessly, she pursed her lips until they turned rosy and plump.
Earning a small cry from her mouth, he pulled her into his chest and clung to her, his fingers holding fast to her skin, her soft, dewey hair under his nose. Sparks of scents, so subtle they felt electric, filled his hungry mind. He whispered against her temple of how much he loved her and how he always would. His lips lowered to her cheekbone and searched for their match, kissing a line towards them, a quivering rush taking hold of Raven as their mouths finally met. His hands wound their way to her shoulders, admiring the defined clavicles under his fingertips, the soft skin, all the while he never broke from her, his cold palms shooting surprise and lust into her nerves.
She gasped as he curved his head towards her neck, taking the sensitive flesh into his teeth, nipping his way along her throat. Everything felt like it was flaming, every place he touched, every press of his lips to her skin, was a shattering of her composure; lightning. Her thumbs hooked under his shirt and brought it over his head, craving his lips as they left her to rid their owner of the garment. Their lips came crashing together again, tongues at war, until he pulled away from the kiss and looked at her in those huge dark lavender orbs.
"Rae, I don't want you to rush into anything. Unless you want to."
"Robin. It's not like I haven't done this before."
"Okay, I... oh. Um...," he faltered, scolding himself for ruining the moment he was too guilty to admit dreaming about. In truth, he wasn't surprised that she wasn't a virgin. Raven wasn't the pure, chastity-abiding type. And you can't look expect someone who looked like Raven to wait forever, he concluded.
"I'm not running away this time," she insisted coyly.
"Promise?"
In response, she smirked sexily and pulled him back towards her.
The next morning, Robin decided that waking up next to a barely clothed Raven was better and infinitely more energizing then coffee.
It took a while for a reason, see? x) I made a Raven/Robin 100 challenge, so if you guys want to try it out, it could make some great stories. Just credit me for the challenge list. Here's the link!
neonforleo. deviant art .com/art/RaeRob-100-109172766
Read and Review please!