As far as cheap hotel rooms went, they could do worse. This was one of those rare cases where it was a small town owner who took furious pride in a clean and cozy room. Raven was sullenly sitting by the hotel room's one little table, scrawling in a journal that she kept in a pocket dimension in her cloak. She wasn't upset that they were staying here, necessarily, but it still was a bit of a bruise on her pride to have to say, "Actually, I can't teleport us back to Jump City, I might pop a blood vessel or have a seizure or I could pass out mid-teleport which would really screw us over." She was limitless interdimensional power, but she was also channeling that limitless interdimensional power through a stupid flesh puppet which went through bullshit like "glycogen crashes" and "probably should have slept more than four hours." And also her friends were embarrassingly attached to her flesh puppet.

She popped her journal back into its pocket dimension as Gar walked through the door after his intrepid quest to go toss their empty pizza box in the hotel dumpster.

"So, were you planning on a hardcore meditation session or can I watch TV?" asked Gar, stretching a little.

"I'm fine with TV," Raven shrugged, before catching herself and narrowing her eyes, "But if you put on The Room again—"

"Rae, the point of that movie is that it's bad," said Gar, already sitting on the bed and clicking through channels.

"I watch awful Hammer films all the time, but that was torture," said Raven.

"Thoughts on David Lynch," said Gar.

"Who?" said Raven.

"Twin Peaks, Blue Velvet…" Gar looked at her over his shoulder expectantly, "Eraserhead?"

She just gave him a blank stare.

"Wow, really?" Gar's eyebrows raised.

"I—I like corn syrup and vampires and rubber masks that look like they have that smell," said Raven, not knowing why she was reddening, "I'm not from here, you can't expect me to know everything about—!" She cut herself off.

Gar put up both his hands, the skin of his palms a noticeably lighter green than the rest of him. Not the same shade of green as his lips, though.

Don't look at his mouth, only stupid things come out of it, thought Raven. She did, admittedly, permit herself to love those teeth of his. Not that she'd actually tell him, though.

"Okay, so, now I have a moral obligation to put something on that you haven't seen yet," said Beast Boy, continuing to click through the channels.

"By David Lynch?"

"Oh no, god no, we aren't there yet."

"Aren't 'there' yet?" Raven's brow crinkled, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean you don't just put on anything by David Lynch unless you're in a state that's both fortified and receptive."

"Eh—" Raven's breath caught in her throat.

"Look, you know interdimensional wizardry demon stuff, and I know Hollywood, just trust me."

"You put the Tower through the sex scenes in The Room but you're hesitating on this," said Raven.

"Look, it's complicated, I already don't want to think about the one-bed thing, I'd rather not put David Lynch on top of it," said Gar, still flipping through channels.

Raven didn't say anything at that. She wasn't sure what she could say at that.

Gar paused and leaned forward as he landed on an old movie channel. There was a man and a woman on a vespa, riding through a hilly countryside dotted with cypress and oak trees.

"Hey, it's Rita!" Gar's face lit up as he looked at Raven.

Raven watched as a woman with a well-shaped jaw and chin-length curly brown hair spoke on screen to her costar. She recognized the face from Gar's old photos. Rita Farr. She wondered if the glow of the silver nitrate made her more beautiful, or maybe it was the way Gar lit up just by seeing her. She was acting alongside Simon Trent, then a television actor attempting to solidify his legacy through film but even then it was clear there was no fighting the legacy of the Gray Ghost. Still, he held his own as a romantic lead. Shrewd and playful to counter the haughty passion of Rita's runaway princess character. Rita herself had the character figured out through and through, and knew how to play every expression and time every line to max out the appeal of a character who could easily be dismissed as a heinous bitch by anyone watching 12 seconds of this film out of context. But she wasn't—in every frame she was sharp and self-possessed, sheltered, yet incredibly intelligent, smoldering and vulnerable.

Raven felt an abrupt twang at the back of her psyche and she slowly turned her head to watch Gar, watching the film with all the usual bright affection he would give Frank Capra or John Hughes. There were many (many many many) points in Raven's life where she wondered what exactly Gar saw in her. Yes he was the Spiders Georg of heart-shattering crushes, whirlwind rebounds, and romantic mistakes anyone could see coming from 47 miles away, and yet, she would have to be some kind of idiot to not be aware that through it all, he was inexorably, almost gravitationally, drawn back to her. It was one of those things she shrugged off, at first. She was a friend. She was a crush. She didn't bullshit him because she herself lacked most of the hardware and emotional bandwidth for bullshit. So she was.. comforting. But she was also a bomb. She was a black hole. She was a sunk emotional cost. There was only so much anyone could get away with in terms of "Hot Goth Girl," after all. But still, he was there. Stupid (and maybe not that stupid) and funny and stubborn and kind. So much more kind than so many people knew. Maybe it was the animal in him—the ability to simply sit, to exist with whatever discomfort humanity threw at him. But now Raven was looking at Rita Farr—beautiful, glamorous, Rita Farr, who had cared for Gar like her own son. And Raven was looking at a character Rita Farr was playing—complex and snappy and desperate and deep. And now she was getting whacked over the head with the realization that, no, Gar's attraction to her was not just a matter of 'Hot Goth Girl'—it was a read. She was more than a superhero. She was more than the daughter of a demon. She was more than the planes of Azarath. She was an intelligent, cultured girl who just wanted to feel something bright and wonderful and true outside of the crushing obligation of everything she was. Raven found her attention split between Gar and the film, even though she had never seen the film herself, and then the ending came, and the ending pissed her off.

"Wh-why didn't she run away with him!?" Raven blurted out as the credits rolled, "She was happier with him—she knew she was happier with him—!"

"'Cuz that's not who she is," Gar shrugged, "If… she got selfish… then… she wouldn't really know that freedom as freedom, you know? She'd be stuck with the idea of everyone she let down.. and that wouldn't be fair to put on the guy she likes. Even if she loves him."

Gar could feel Raven's gaze burning into the side of his head.

"I could.. switch it to some cartoons, if you want?" Gar looked at her, his pointed ears sagging slightly. Oh no—he thought she hated the movie. No, she hadn't hated it, it just made her feel a whole lot of things that she didn't really want to feel right now in this stupid hotel room with its stupid one bed.

"…yeah, cartoons," Raven said mindlessly.

Beast Boy put on some weird Adult Swim quasi-absurdist quasi-nihilist Australian shit that really wasn't that good of a palate cleanser. Not that she wanted a palate cleanser, but she wasn't in a space to talk about what she was feeling before, and now she really just wanted to pull the plug on everything and just shut down and maybe pretend she was a completely different person who didn't spend a stupid amount of time wondering what shade of green Gar's dick was. (Lip shade? Nipple shade? Could it be its own shade? Would it be brighter?) And it wasn't like she was obsessed with his dick or anything—she was a practiced meditator, she could snap herself out of thinking about his dick anytime she wanted. It was just she had catalogued the shades of green of everything else—skin was mostly granny smith apple while his palms were more Anjou pear, and his lips were more of an unripe mango. Freckles were varying shades of moss and fern while his hair was peacock, ivy, and phthalo. So clearly there was no reasonable reference on what shade of green the dick might be, which made it perfectly okay to think about.

The cheap little digital clock on the nightstand read 11:00. And Raven's own exhaustion now made the current dilemma unavoidable.

They both stared at the bed. Raven became acutely aware that this was another problem presented by her flesh puppet. Her arms were folded tight across herself, Beast Boy mindlessly itched under his nose.

"Alright," Gar rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, "I think the solution is pretty obvious." He morphed into a Jack Russell terrier and did a particularly luxurious stretch, then hopped up on the foot of the bed.

"We could just sleep back to back," muttered Raven, "Are you sure you can stay morphed all night?"

"All night, mama," said Beast Boy, morphing back into a human, sitting on the edge of the bed, for the sole purpose of hitting her with finger guns. He registered the utterly unimpressed look on Raven's face and cleared his throat before morphing back into the terrier and sitting on his haunches primly, "Okay—look. You're fine. It's fine. I'm not going to try anything. Graduate of the Rita Farr school of being a little gentleman, here."

"Lipstick's out," said Raven.

Beast Boy's jack Russell head jerked down, "What!? Okay, look, that's probably a shapeshifting fluke but—" he caught himself, and brought his head up to look at her with a disapproval that only terriers seemed capable of. "Classy, Rae."

"Made you look," Raven smiled.

Gar just settled himself down on the foot of the bed, setting his head on his forepaws with one of those judgmental little dog huffs.

Raven enveloped herself in a shroud of black for several seconds before emerging, no longer in her long sleeved leotard and red gem belt, but in a vintage band shirt for The Missing that was way too big for her, and some soft purple shorts.

"Okay—so, you've got hammerspace in the cloak," said Beast Boy.

"Pocket dimension," said Raven, getting under the sheets.

"So, part 1 of the question: Could you store my moped in there, and part 2: Could you turn it on and launch it out?"

Raven gave Gar another unimpressed look. "I think the real question is… why would I do that?"

"Because it looks really cool when Batman launches the bat-cycle out of the Batmobile—"

"I'm. Not. The Batmobile," said Raven, "And I'm not a storage unit."

"All right—all right," Gar put his hands up again, "Just thought I'd ask."

Raven looked at Gar for a second before saying, "…but I probably should start carrying some electrolyte drinks and protein bars… for the team."

"You'd save my life, that's for sure," said Gar, with that toothy-sharp grin of his, and Raven felt her face burn.

"Is it all right if I read for a bit?" she asked, trying to shift the mood.

"Sure," said Gar, "What is it this time?"

"The Golden Bough," said Raven, "But again, it's more about—"

"More about you picking apart why it's fucked up than actually taking it seriously, I get it," Gar rolled on his back, little dog paws up in the air, "Don't you ever read stuff for fun?"

"This… is fun," Raven said a bit hesitantly. It was more complex than 'fun,' it was more like a log on the fire, something to chew on. Plus, between foes like Deacon Blackfire and Brother Blood, and how her demon heritage placed her in a unique position in relation to them, it probably didn't hurt to get a grasp on massive oversimplifications of religion.

"It's almost like you give yourself homework, sometimes," Gar mused.

"That's occultism for you," Raven smirked from behind her book, "You could probably stand to do more homework."

"Maybe you could give me homework," Gar turned back into a human, laying on his side at the foot of the bed, with his head propped up in his hand in a cheesy seductive pose. Raven reddened, pulling her book close to herself protectively before he abruptly caught himself, "Ah shit—" he morphed back into a dog and did several of those little dog circles before lying down, tightly curling himself up, facing away from her, "Sorry—I—I didn't mean that. That was 80% commitment to the bit talking."

"And… the other 20%?" Raven peered over the top of her book.

"Good night, Rae," said all Gar said, that doughnut of fur at the foot of the bed tightening.

He fell asleep in the way dogs do, even with a light on, and Raven read for a few more minutes before reminding herself her meat puppet needed sleep as well as meditation and turned out the light herself. One of Gar's hind legs was twitching as he slept. This was going to be easy. All they had to do was sleep. Raven closed her own eyes and sleep dropped on her like a heavy shroud.

Raven woke up to snake scales against her side. Under her shirt. Pressed cool against her ribs. Her breath hitched as she eased herself up in bed and pulled back the comforter to reveal the emerald green ball python blissfully curled up under the sheets, comfortably snuggled into his own coils. True, Gar wasn't above taking an animal form for a crude joke, but Raven knew his shifting habits enough at this point to know he wasn't trying to pull anything. Sleep-shifting wasn't unusual for him, and ball pythons were a common sleep-shift for him because, hey, they slept 23 hours a day, and by the looks of those cuddly coils, the comfort level must be like Fetal Position Plus. The main issue, of course, was heat. He had snaked his way into Cyborg's server room for a nap, and he had curled up next to Starfire as she absorbed solar radiation (read: sunbathed) on the roof of the tower, much to Robin's chagrin.

"G-goddammit, Gar," Raven said very softly, her face burning as she scooped her hands under the sleeping python's coils and set him back at the foot of the bed. The hotel room air conditioning would wake him up, but at least this way they could avoid an awkward situation. He didn't have to know. It could just be her own little thing that she could think about whenever she wanted without it complicating everything. Also who said she would think about it at all? She was Raven: Mistress of pure emotional control who totally didn't fixate on what shade of green Gar's dick was or the sensation of his snake scales against her skin. That's who she was. She shut her eyes and did a very good job of not thinking about those two things, and kept her eyes shut as she heard that odd mix of 'vworp' and stomach growling sounds that indicated Gar had shifted again. The springs of the mattress creaked as Gar went from ball python to human form.

"Nnuh?" Raven could feel Gar's mind as only half awake, before he quietly mumbled, "Ah shit…" and there was another stomach-grumble-vworp, and Raven opened one eye to see a Jack Russell terrier once again at the foot of the bed. She closed her eyes once more.

…and woke up to a small squeaky whistle next to her ear. The digital clock next to the bed read 2:26 AM, and Raven felt a tug on a lock of her hair, and something fuzzy against the side of her face. She brought her hand up carefully, lightly, feeling around experimentally, and immediately she knew there was a bright green dormouse curled up just next to the corner of her jawline, his little mouse hands and feet squeezing a strand of her hair against him. She drew her hand back. Should she just scoop him to the corner of the bed again? But then another little squeaky dormouse snore fell out of him, and she thought, He trusts me to be this small with me. He trusts me. And so she didn't. She just shut her eyes again, and decided she would pretend to be asleep when he woke up and realized what shape he was in, in order to give him an out, obviously. But this was sweet, this was harmless—well, okay, there were some mouse safety concerns, but for the most part, she could deal with this.

…Until she woke up again, and Gar was in human form, and on top of her (on top of the sheets) with his arms sprawled on either side of her, one of his legs between her own, and his face half submerged in her pillow, his breath warm on the side of her neck, the tip of his nose just barely touching her earlobe.

Oh fuck, thought Raven, feeling another one of his exhalations against her skin send a shudder up her spine, Oh fuck. Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck—

She was Raven: Mistress of Being So Normal About This.

"G-Gar," Raven's whisper collapsed in on itself as she tried to get a handle on even what the fuck was happening right now. And then she said, regrettably louder, "Gar?"

"Mmnh?" Gar's first response was a grunt and snuggling his face against her neck which… apparently did the job of reminding him he currently had a human face. His eyes snapped open and she felt his whole body tense over her before he actually fully registered his positioning and, flinched back from her.

"Fuck—" even in the dark, Raven could tell that the shade of green on Gar's face was shifting as blood rushed to it with embarrassment, with shame, even. The mattress creaked as he pressed his palm to it, pushing himself up. "I'm so sorry—I really didn't mean—I'm just going to take the floor. It'll be fine. I'll just pick something better at regulating body heat—" he cut himself off and his entire body tensed as Raven touched a hand to the side of his face.

"Yooouuu…." Her voice trailed off into a creak as green, semi-dilated slitted eyes stared into purple eyes, "don't… have to?" Her voice creaked up in inflection.

Briefly, Gar's pupils dilated to 'Dumbass cat mode' before he caught himself and broke his eyes away from her, blinking several times, clearly wondering if he had heard her correctly before looking back at her.

"Rae?" Her name was a question.

"Just…" Raven shoved aside a corner of the comforter, exposing the mattress next to her, "You don't have to try so hard." She pressed her mouth thin, "I'm sorry—"

"I'm sorry," Gar started, "I like you, and the last thing I want to do is—" he caught himself and Raven could practically feel his face burning as it was inches from hers.

"Just—human's your default form, isn't it?" She noted the pointed ears, the slitted eyes, the fangs, the almond-shaped nails, the way his arms were just a little too long in proportion to the rest of him and how it was oddly easy for him to default to being on tiptoe, "For the most part."

"I mean…" Gar hesitated. A pointed ear twitched.

"Just—all that really matters is that we both sleep, right?" Raven wasn't meeting his eyes, "You should just sleep like you normally do. We can just… sleep back to back."

"Or head-to-foot."

"I don't want your gross feet next to my head," Raven said flatly.

"They're arguably the least gross feet on the team because I can reach any point on my body with my tongue—"

"Gar."

"Back to back. Got it."

She pushed the comforter down and scooted over, and Gar rolled onto his side and awkwardly shuffled under the sheets next to her. There was a beat of about eleven seconds where they very much weren't back to back. She was staring at him, he was staring at her. His nostrils flared and his mouth opened, hesitated.

"So—um… T-thanks," he bit the inside of his lip before thickly adding, "Good night," and he turned over with his back to her, "And sorry about… all of that."

"It's fine," Raven's voice was a little distant, "It's—" she swallowed and turned on her own side so her back was to him as well, "Good night."

—

Gar awoke the next morning to the faint smell of myrrh, violet, and plum in his nostrils. His eyelids lifted heavily and he became aware that he was on his back, and there was a warm weight on the side of his chest. Raven had snuggled up under his arm, the top of her head pressed against the corner of his jaw, her own arm strung lazily across his chest and even one of her legs curled around his own. The scent was her hair, he realized. He was smelling her hair. He studied her face as she slept—that eternally worried brow and the set of her jaw. Just seeing her like this, it took a conscious effort not to kiss her forehead, to try and tell her she didn't have to worry about anything. Instead, he wisely chose to continue to pretend to sleep, which turned into accidentally actually falling back asleep. That was fine, too. It was only fair to give her an out. He was at a state between sleep and waking when Raven spoke up.

"Gar?"

"Mm?"

"Are you pretending to be asleep, too?"

"Oh, no, I'm super asleep. Totally vulnerable. Completely at your mercy. You could do whatever you want to me right now, and I couldn't stop you," said Gar, his eyes closed serenely.

"Be serious," Raven jabbed a thumb into his armpit.

"Gah!" Gar opened his eyes at her, "Really, Rae?" He caught himself and glanced down, realizing her arm was still laced across his chest.

"Yeah," said Raven, settling her head back down on the side of his chest.

"Okay… serious, then—I'm… not in a hurry to get out of this right now."

"…we're on the same page then," said Raven.

"Y-yeah…" Gar was staring at the ceiling, "Same page." A few minutes passed in comfortable silence in that lazy morning way..

"I think she should have run away with him," Raven said mindlessly.

"Huh?"

"In the movie. Rita's movie. She should have run away with him, in the end."

"Yeah?" Gar smiled a little as he looked at her.

"I mean I know that's not really the point of the movie, and I know it's a good movie because it's not a happy ending and there's all the characterization and stuff, but also monarchies are stupid."

Gar snickered a little and just curled his arm around her a little tighter. "Yeah…" was all he said in reply.

"I did like it, though. We should… do that more often. When we get back to the tower," said Raven.

"I'll put together a list," said Gar, pressing his cheek against her hair and closing his eyes.

"…with David Lynch?" Raven quirked an eyebrow.

Gar snickered a little. "Yeah no. Still not there, yet."