Homecoming (Teen Titans, Robin/Raven, #14 Radio-Cassette Player)
Title: Homecoming
Author: Icy
Pairing: Robin/Raven
Fandom: Teen Titans
Rating: moderate to high PG-13
Disclaimer: Teen Titans is ® DC Comics. No disrespect intended.
Author’s Note: These are taking place when the titans are, well, titans… Meaning that (for example) Raven will be Raven instead of Rachel Roth. Unless otherwise mentioned.
These aren’t going to form a story, but they won’t be drabbles, either. Just free-standing.
This is an AU story! It DOES take place in a universe where the titans are NORMAL teenagers, who attend a normal high school, and who happen to be friends. Just in case you’re confused, don’t say I didn’t warn you. (But it’s not really THAT confusing.) *This Also Means That I Will Not Be Using Their “Superhero Names” =)
Maybe I’ll expand this into a full story later, like… with chapters.
WARNING: It’s LONG. *VERY* long.
WARNING 2: It’s uncomfortable to read. So much high-school-age girl stuff involved.
WARNING 3: NOT BETA’D
List of Kisses
(
{{*Yay! I finally Finished!!}}
Rachel stared half-attentively at the chalkboard, where a diagram of the function xy=1 was drawn, illustrating the properties of asymptotes. Occupying the desk left of her, Vic was frantically scribbling page after messy page of notes; her eyes chanced to drift, drawn by his furious motions, and she made out a diagram so complicated she wondered how it incorporated the topic on hand at all. Then again, Vic had always been good at math. He’d been available on the few occasions she needed tutoring; he’d come to her more than often, asking for help in Religions. The class was quite a joke, actually, but Vic was too logical-minded. Their study group did have benefits, anyhow: Victor and Garfield were good at PE, although Gar wasn’t good for much else. However, Rachel despised PE with a fierce loathing, and he’d been more than happy to drop hints on how to pretend to be working while really doing nothing. Technically that was a bad thing, but when it came to PE, Rachel was desperate. Tim was good at PE too, but he was also good at humanities and religion-most of the abstract classes, actually. The ones she was good at. She had a better grade than him in English, though. She was the accepted English guru of the school, due to her constant proximity to a book of some sort. And Kory was the science nerd, but she somehow managed to keep good grades in every subject with a minimum amount of help. She was pretty, too, which made her popular enough that, had she wanted, she could’ve left them at any given moment. She had told them she didn’t want to; she felt at home with them, and she wouldn’t leave for all the other company in the world-for what was company compared to friends? Rachel had decided it was for the best, as Kory did have odd quirks and, because she was a foreigner, had a vague difficulty with the language at times. She was aware of the other students and their ability to hurt, and for that reason, wanted to protect Kory. Kory was different, and that attracted others, but it could also repel them. She was glad of the support their group lended, although she’d never needed it more than once; she knew that no other group of companions in the school could be as close as they were to each other, and for that, she was proud.
Turning back to the board, Rachel copied down the definition of limits listlessly, her thoughts elsewhere. In front of her sat Tim; behind her, Kory was scribbling frantically, probably trying to keep up with Victor. Next to Kory, behind Victor, Gar was doodling in the margins of his paper. When he noticed her looking, he grinned and pretended to pay attention. Rachel rolled her eyes and returned her gaze forward, but was distracted as she saw Tim slip a small oval attached to a cord into his ear; the cord led to his lap, where some device she couldn’t see rested. For a moment she silently observed, curious, but soon returned to her notebook and the whiteboard. The teacher was assigning homework.
As the bell rang for lunch, Rachel stood and hurried out before the rest of the group could catch up with her. Head down, Rachel didn’t notice as a thin form leaned against the closed door of the locker next to her, until a boyish voice said, “Hey, Rachel.”
The pale schoolgirl looked up, a vague annoyance building behind her temples. Tara Markov, the sixth and final component to their group, and the only one with a different schedule. “Tara. How was Statistics?”
Tara rolled her eyes in a perfectly passable imitation of the blond counterparts passing in the halls. “Nowhere near as interesting as Precalc, I’m sure,” she replied in a flattish tone. Rachel managed to force her thick biology book into her book bag, retrieve Beyond Good And Evil, her current read. She didn’t care for Nietzsche per se, but he represented the counterpart of a diverse argument she rarely had a chance to experience firsthandedly. Tara fell into step as Rachel slammed her locker shut and began walking to the cafeteria, nose in her book. “Well, anyways, Leo was talking to me during class and wanted to know if we could hook up for lunch. You know, all of us and him.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I think he’s into Kory, you know. This is the third time in the past month he’s asked me if I’ll be with her.”
Rachel listened vaguely, taking in none of it and mechanically opening the door and finding her table. Kory and Gar were already seated, with Leo on Gar’s other side; Victor was sitting next to Gar. Tara sat next to Victor and started chattering away animatedly; Rachel seated herself next to Leo, leaving the empty chair between herself and Tara. (Although they’re round table usually only held six chairs, Leo had pulled up an extra one.) She was on the verge of opening her biodegradable container of rice balls and sushi-she’d already poured her traditional mug of herbal tea-when Tim pulled out the chair beside her and vaguely fell into the seat.
She raised her eyebrows at him and cocked her head-Tara was talking loudly to Vic and Gar, and Leo’s thick accent drowned out whatever conversations other tables might be trying to impose upon their bubble. Tim glanced moodily around the table, then at her, and he shrugged. She knew he would have a ham sandwich with an apple, a bag of potato chips, and a diet Pepsi before he pulled them out. She noticed him placing a bulky object in the pocket of his bomber jacket before he pulled out his assortment. “What is it today?”
She swirled her mug gently, inhaling the softly fragrant steam. “Ginseng and hibiscus.” This was a routine the others sometimes participated in; her love of tea had quickly become an object of attraction, and they were strangely fascinated by her preference for the drink. It was a light humor, a loosely-practiced routine they generally opened lunch with. Whoever wasn’t busy talking yet would ask about her flavor of tea, and she would reply. They had become used to each others’ lunches, too; Gar always had tofu or vegetables, and he was teased for his eating habit almost as much as Rachel was for her drinking. This was part of their camaraderie, and at their third year together, they were loath to give up these habits, despite the intense familiarity of them. Rachel thought that was perhaps the reason why they clung to them.
Tim raised one eyebrow. “A little bit Eastern and exotic,” he commented, and watched mutely as she stirred a teaspoon of honey into the mug and then let it sit to steep. She noticed his icy blue eyes remaining on her mug, and she knew that when he stared into the distance, something was bothering him. Privately, in the back of her mind somewhere, behind the love she’d developed for their group, she had the selfish feeling that they were different from the other four, because they were natural introverts, and because they were serious, and because they both had strife in their pasts. She wasn’t sure why this was selfish, except that she connected it to a vague sense of being more deserving, or of superiority, or something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Either way, it was her guilty secret, hidden away at the back of her heart. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but feel that she understood Tim best of the group, although he was quite fond of Kory, and he was also close to Vic.
She chewed on a rice ball and contemplated him, swallowed, and said, “What are you thinking about?”
He looked startled, but hid his expression under a smile meant to be reassuring. “Nothing. Sorry, I was distracted. Asymptotes, right? Interesting lesson.” He took a bite of his sandwich.
Rachel rolled her eyes at his feeble excuse but skirted around it, for his sake. “You have any idea what he’s up to?” She jerked her thumb at Leo. The Russian had sat with them before, but lately he’d been coming off a bit strongly.
Tim shrugged. “What can we ever know about foreign exchange students?” His eyes rested on Leo and Kory, and Rachel followed his gaze, for a few short seconds.
“He’s really quite obvious.”
“It must be a foreign exchange thing,” Tim said, and shrugged. “Maybe to us it’s obvious, but it looks like Kory hasn’t caught on. Probably comes from having three language barriers between them.”
Rachel grinned. “They could be a shoo-in for homecoming nominations in a year or two, if they keep it up,” she said jovially. Then she paused and said, “I wonder if that’s what’s on his mind here…”
Tim suddenly became very absorbed in opening his diet Pepsi can, and Rachel fell silent, wondering why Robin was obsessing about homecoming. School had been back in session for nearly a month now, and since homecoming was a week before Halloween and fast approaching, they had talked briefly about their plans-Gar was obviously going to ask Tara, although neither of them had said anything; Vic was keeping quiet about his plans, and it appeared that Kory would now be going. Rachel had expressed an interest in boycotting the entire deal for pre-Halloween festivities, but had been met with furious resistance from Gar, Vic, and Kory. She was still determined to hold out-dances really weren’t her thing, although the nightlife of the city made her comfortable, for she had an affinity for night.
Comprehension dawned somewhat slowly. “Tim,” Rachel said slowly. “You weren’t going to ask Kory yourself, were you?”
Tim almost dropped his can of soda, and she felt a little bit bad. “No,” he mumbled, which she knew meant yes. Even Tim the Intelligent wasn’t immune to her foreign beauty. Rachel tried to smile, failed, and so instead swallowed a large mouthful of tea to avoid talking. Tim did instead. “I wasn’t even going to go, until Vic beat me at Gamestation, after I bet him that if I lost, I would.” He paused. “If he lost, he was going to have to try out for the school ballet team.”
Rachel marveled at how going to a dance could be equivalent to a ballet team. The ballet team would be painful beyond death, but Vic would’ve taken it in stride and laughed about it all while pirouetting gracefully and plié-ing in the hallways. That was ultimately the difference between her and Vic, she supposed-he didn’t mind making a fool of himself, while she avoided it at all costs. It wasn’t as though it required effort-she simply thought before she spoke or acted. She’d always been a bit reserved, but it hadn’t ever been a problem. It had kept her from making friends until she got to Jump High, when she and the others had somehow bonded, but she’d always taken solace in her books.
Rachel noticed Tim was looking at her as though expecting a response, and so she flushed slightly. “Sorry?”
Tim exhaled softly. “I said, are you still planning on skipping the dance?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I still don’t see what good would come of my attendance; nobody else would gain any benefit, and I would certainly have a wretched time, so I think I’m going to stick with the original plan.”
For some cruel reason, the table had just taken that moment to fall into a brief lull in the rippling tide of conversation; five voices descended upon her at once.
“You have to come, Rae!” Vic exclaimed in the loudest voice. “It just won’t be the same without you there!”
“Yeah, come on! It’ll be fun,” chimed in Gar. Next to him, Tara nodded enthusiastically and took a deep breath.
“You have to come, Rachel, because you’re an important part of the group and you helped me feel welcome when I first came to the school and so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t go because we’ll all miss you and you’d be absolutely beautiful in a homecoming dress and-“
Tara’s voice was then drowned out by Kory’s vehement exclamation, rivaling Vic’s in volume and ferocity. “We WON’T take no for an answer, Rachel! Homecoming is a wonderful community thriving with the spirit of good friends and joy, intermingled by the lively expression of happiness through dancing to the loud music!”
Raven rolled her eyes but was taken by surprise as Leo said, “Yes, Ray Chel, I think we would like your company of attendance very much so.”
She inhaled what she hoped to be a peace-restoring breath, raised her mug to her lips, and then opened her eyes. All of them were watching her, some mutinously, some hopefully. She took another breath. “No.”
As the table interjected again, she rolled her eyes and said, “Listen, guys. I’m not a fan of dancing and I’ve never worn a dress before, so there’s really no reason to go. Besides, it’s really dumb to go without a date. This isn’t the eighth grade dance anymore, and I’m not stupid enough to act like it is.”
The ensuing chaos involved her attendance being decided upon, Tara and Kory promising to pick her up this weekend to go dress shopping, and profound expressions of relief that none of them were on the committee, because it would have been far too stressful. After mingled discussion of the event, Kory looked at Rachel triumphantly and said, “There! All your problems are solved!”
Feeling as though she was fighting a losing battle, and determined to win, Rachel knit her brows. “I’m NOT going without a date!”
Silence descended upon the table as each of the five attempted to ponder this; Rachel shook her head. “Forget it. I’m not going with somebody who asked me because you made them. They have to have asked of their own accord. And since that’s not going to happen, I think it’s settled-I’m not going.”
Tara looked a little sad at this pronouncement, and Garfield said, “Come on, Rachel. It’ll be fun and if you’re not there, it just won’t be the same…”
Rachel stood, seized her empty mug, and moved to dispose of her empty sushi container. “Sorry, guys, but you’ll have to do without me.” It won’t be too difficult, she said silently.
On the way out the door, after tossing the black cellophane container in the recycle bin, she shot a look back their way. They were huddling together, presumably plotting some sort of action. Tim looked up and made eye contact; Rachel blushed and hurried out of the cafeteria, to replace her mug in its rightful position, on the shelf of her locker.
As she was replacing Beyond Good and Evil, her peripherary senses informed her of another body standing slightly behind her and to her right. Looking up, she was mildly surprised to see Tim. “How was ginseng and hibiscus?”
Rachel closed her locker and shrugged. “It had good potential, but the blend was weak.” She started walking, to get to class early. It was only Classic Literature; she’d read The Odyssey at least ten times before it had been assigned.
Tim fell into step next to her. “Even with the honey?”
Rachel looked over at him. “Well, there’s certain teas which are disposed to honey, and certain teas which are disposed to sugar. You have to be able to tell which is which, but it’s not too hard to figure out.”
He made some thinking noise, so she returned her gaze forward. “Well, did we figure out why Leo was eating with us? Tara said that he asked her if he could.”
Tim grunted. Rachel took this to mean not really. “Well, he definitely wants to ask her to the dance, but he’s waiting until it’s closer.” Rachel could detect a note of possessiveness in his voice, and her levels of irritation rose.
“Well, why didn’t you just ask her then? There’s no point in being annoyed about it. It’s not going to stop him from asking her.”
Tim shot her a look of annoyance. “I already told you, I didn’t want to ask Kory!”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Well, you don’t sound very happy for her.” When Tim scowled, she said, “You don’t have to be so possessive.”
“Kory /was/ mine from the beginning, Rachel. I’m entitled to some amount of possessiveness.”
Rachel snorted. “It’s good enough that you guys remained friends after ending it, and it’s good enough that you’re still friends. You can’t honestly still want to be with her. If I recall, weren’t you the one to break it off?”
Tim ran a hand through his hair. “Yes and no. I suggested it but she’d decided to do it almost a week before I had; she just didn’t have the right time. I’m not giving her up whether or not we’re together, Rachel; since she still wants to be friends, I’m happy to take what I can get.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “And now you regret ending it?”
Tim glared at her. “I didn’t say that. It wasn’t working out, remember? But I still don’t want someone else to hurt her. I was lucky that I didn’t hurt her much. We broke up peacefully, remember?”
Rachel looked away. “I’m more attuned to the group’s emotions than you guys realize,” she said. “You two had tension between you, but it’s really not my business.”
Tim shrugged. “Well, you know now, anyway.”
Rachel looked up and opened the classroom door; besides them, it was otherwise empty. Rachel took a seat in her customary position; rather than sit in front of her, Tim took the seat next to her. Rachel looked up at him as he sat down. “Where’s Tara going to sit?” In truth, she didn’t mind Tim’s presence; she’d never really been on great terms with Tara, and the blond still annoyed her.
Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. In front of you. Next to Gar?”
A soft beeping interrupted him, and Rachel pulled out her cell phone from her messenger bag.
Greenguy: Meet me at your locker
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Gar.”
Tim shrugged. “What does he want?”
“He wants to see me at my locker…” She trailed off.
“Go meet him,” suggested Tim.
Rachel sighed. “Fine.” She rose and exited the classroom, still holding her cell phone.
She navigated the halls much more quickly than when she’d been talking to Tim. Within moments, she was at her locker, scowling at Garfield.
“Here’s the thing,” the little green-eyed bugger began. “So I really wanted to ask Tara to Homecoming-“
“And, what, you need my permission?” Rachel asked acidly.
Garfield grimaced. “Well, I was thinking. We all really want you to come, and I decided, ‘You know, Gar, Tara’s really pretty. She could have a million other guys asking her. But Rachel, well, she still needs a date.”
Rachel’s temper flared up. “You’re asking me to the dance?”
Garfield shrugged. “Something like that.”
Rachel’s voice quivered with anger. “So you’re asking me because the person you wanted to bring is pretty enough to get other dates, but I basically can’t even get a date that’s not out of pity?”
Garfield processed this slowly; suddenly he realized his mistake. “No, that’s not what I-“
Rachel turned and fled, leaving Gar, not registering she passed Tim as she turned the corner; her footsteps echoed the halls, still empty and echoey; she ran despite her hatred for P.E. and running; flights of stairs fell below her feet, uncounted. Somewhere deep inside, she was burning with humiliation, shame, and grief; was she really not good enough for a real date? Something else that had been vaguely bothering her surfaced as she burst out onto the school’s roof and let the door slam closed behind her; the cool breeze and sunlight beckoned her to the edge, and she perched there, leaning against the brick barrier; who was Tim planning on asking? Rather, who had he been planning on asking? For all her previous words, she harbored a fierce possessiveness over him that was of the utmost secrecy. She hardly bothered to establish her thoughts of connection, but she felt the rest of the group paled to mediocrity when they were involved. It was selfish, and she wasn’t proud of it, but while everybody brought something to their group, she felt herself to be somewhat superior to the others-and Tim, well, she couldn’t say she was superior to him. She had to call him her equal, because he was intelligent and thoughtful and as introversive and conscious of others as she was. She couldn’t stand the thought of Tara beating her, but Kory had been OK, because Kory was the closest thing she had to another friend who was also a girl, and because she knew what it felt like to be alienated from those around you; and she never wanted Kory to experience that.
But anybody else, and that frustrated her. She didn’t involve herself with others romantically because she was a selfish person, and because she’d never found the person right for her. Nevertheless, her ideas regarding Tim had developed slowly, and she was now too deep to retract anything she’d decided in her mind. Tim insisted it hadn’t bee Kory, though, and that made her blood boil. Anybody else who would take Tim away-anybody else who was undeserving and less intelligent and complex and not on the same level as her and Tim-wasn’t allowed to go with him. But she couldn’t do anything about it, really.
Immediately, self-loathing rose to the surface and she leaned out bitterly against the wind, wondering at her own selfishness and immaturity. Anybody else thrust into her situation-a mother abandoned by her lover, who died bringing her into life; passage from various institutions and homes until she had established her own home, where she now lived-anybody else wouldn’t hesitate to rise above her circumstances and become better than those who had put her into the situation, but for some reason she found herself unable to accept those circumstances, and so she clung to whatever precarious protection the group offered her, and focused on her schoolwork. Tim, she felt, was a kindred spirit-also an orphan, also occupied with a past full of mysteries-and she’d been blessed to find him and make such a connection with him. Here she was, selfishly hoping for more, and more would never come, because she wasn’t able to admit to herself that all she wanted was Tim, all to herself.
The door opened behind her, but she didn’t hear it; she only jumped badly when Tim himself leaned up against the brick barrier and gazed out over the streets. She was panicked, then-that somehow, irrationally, he must have figured her out, because he’d appeared just as she was thinking.
“Rachel,” Tim said, and she found that she didn’t want to hear him talk about Gar, but she wasn’t able to speak. “Gar’s a dick and he’s wrong, so don’t pay attention to what he said to you.” Rachel licked her lips but couldn’t bring any words from her voice. Tim was fishing around in his pocket, and when he pulled out his hand, she saw an old-fashioned Walkman, the original kind-the ones that played tapes. She realized he’d been listening to it all day.
He offered her an earphone, and she grudgingly accepted it. However he had done it, he had compiled his tape himself; she wrinkled her nose at the poppy guitar/keyboard introduction and moved to yank the speaker from her ear, but he held up a finger. “I’m a lyrics person, not a melody person.” So she sat quietly and listened to the words of the song, which she would’ve been liable to do anyhow: she was a lyrics person as well.
Breathe in for luck/Breathe in so deep
This air is blessed/You share with me
This night is wild/So calm and dull
These hearts they race/From self-control
Rachel listened to Dashboard Confessional quietly, her mind slowing, and her heartbeat racing. Tim never would’ve struck her as the fan of meaningful songs; even as she thought this, she wondered what meaning it had for him, because on the surface, it appeared the same as it did upon examination: it was romantic, and it made her wistful, but she couldn’t find anything deep beyond the beauty of the moment it presented.
At the end of the song, he turned it off, and stood looking at her. She felt a little self-conscious. “What is it?”
He shrugged. “I just thought you might want to know that class started twenty minutes ago, and we’re legally cutting class.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “My mistake.” It wasn’t as though they’d have learned anything; analyzing the Achaeans’ motives in the fifth segment of the story was hardly worth sitting through.
Tim was putting away the Walkman. “It’s not your fault. I told you, don’t pay attention to what Gar says.”
Rachel hated the slight quiver thrilling through her at his voice. “So, are we just going to waltz into class halfway through?”
Tim shrugged. “You’re free to. I’m going to stay out here.”
Rachel curiously turned back around, and shrugged. “Well, alright.” She sat down against the wall and he sat next to her. “Did you hear about fourth hour Art History?”
Tim glanced sideways at her. “Garth got a hand job in the back of class while the movie was playing,” he said in a voice of minor amusement.
Rachel shrugged again. “I can’t believe the teacher didn’t know. Classrooms are only so big, you know.”
“Well, obviously the other students found out, because it’s spread pretty quickly.”
“Its not every day students receive hand jobs in the back of full classrooms.”
“True,” Tim agreed. “This will probably make the Top Ten, right up there with the Homecoming Incident of ’89,” he decided.
Rachel just rolled her eyes.
“Hey Rachel,” he said. “I know you think it would be a waste of your time, but I think you should come to homecoming. Kory and Tara are already determined to buy you a dress if you won’t get one yourself.”
Rachel scowled. “They would, wouldn’t they.”
Tim shrugged. “I think you’re fighting a losing battle. Why not just come?”
Rachel continued to scowl. “Everybody wants me there, but does nobody realize that I just don’t want to be there?”
“Everybody would rather have you there, Rachel. We know that if you’re not having fun with us, you’d be busy moping by yourself.”
“I wouldn’t be having fun! I’d be there against my will!”
“It’s better than you being stuck at home, missing out on whatever else would happen.”
Rachel exhaled in frustration. “So even though I have absolutely no desire to go, you’d all rather have me there, having a horrible time, than at home, doing something I might enjoy.”
Tim looked up and into her eyes. “You and I both know you never enjoy yourself at home,” he said, almost coldly. “The bell’s ringing.” And with that he stood and made his way over to the door.
Mutely, she followed him. After picking up their bags they headed for World History, but she didn’t speak to any of the Group for the rest of the day.
The rest of the week came and went, and in a miserable Saturday morning, Rachel found herself waking, grooming herself for the day, eating, and washing her dishes with the utmost dread. Sure enough, at precisely half past nine, just as she was loading her plate and bowl into the dishwasher, her intercom buzzed.
Moodily, Rachel went to the door. Immediately, two brightly-dressed teenage girls threw themselves upon her, prevailing.
“Dillard’s and Macy’s are both having fabulous sales,” Tara began, talking faster than Rachel could immediately follow, as Kory clung to her feet in the hopes of preventing her from vanishing. “We’re going to check the Junior’s and Misses’ section at Macy’s first, because they’ve got some good ones on clearance, and then we’ll be heading straight over to Dillard’s, since we’re more likely to find something there if we fail at Macy’s.”
Mutely, and resigned to her fate at this point, Rachel let the two drag her out to Tara’s magenta Volkswagen Beetle. She was unceremoniously stuffed into the backseat, while sulking at having lost to Tim.
The Misses’ dress department at Macy’s was filled with chiffon-based, pink and white creations made for girls about half Rachel’s height. She watched, open-mouthed, as Tara and Kory moved through the dress racks, discussing her height. As they came back and announced their new destination-Junior’s-she managed, “Is it always so pink?”
“Well, no,” conceded Kory. “Usually there’s a lot of colors. Just wait until we get to the Juniors’.”
And once there, Rachel found herself faced with the same array of tulle and chiffon, this time in a few pastel colors.
“Tara,” she said stubbornly. “I’m not wearing anything pink.”
“Come on,” insisted the blond, pulling her into the doom-pronouncing racks of dresses.
Rachel sulked the entire way through, rejecting any of the dresses that were pink or really brightly-colored at all; any that were made of chiffon, tulle, or another floaty, Kory-approved material; and any that came to above or to her knees.
Kory crossed her arms. “You aught to at least try some of these on,” she attempted, indicating a green cocktail dress with a layer of black, perforated tulle under the skirt to help give it volume.
Rachel scowled.
Tara shrugged. “Let’s go to Dillard’s. If there’s nothing, we can always come back.”
Kory reluctantly left, and Rachel followed in their wake, wondering how in the world she had before failed to notice what girls they were.
Countless dresses later, Rachel had finally agreed to try on three, however reluctantly. One was dark blue; one was silver; and one was black. Kory begged her to try a pink one, but Rachel flatly refused.
“Red!” Kory protested, brandishing one final dress. Rachel felt like her head was going to explode. “It’s red, it’s satin, there’s no lace or tulle, it’s form-fitting, and it’s almost floor-length. What more could you want?”
“Fine,” Rachel snapped, grabbed the last dress, and hurried into the dressing room before Tara found something else.
“Come out in each one!” Kory yelled into the changing room complex; a few mothers, waiting for their daughters outside their respective doors, looked worried.
Rachel struggled to pull the silver one over her head. There weren’t any zippers, buttons, or clasps, so she had to make do with propping herself against the wall and gradually tugging at the material until it finally settled around her. The sleeves were thin, and rested across her shoulders. The one thing she noticed, and made her groan aloud, was the presence of glitter on the dress.
Sulkily, she emerged. Kory squealed. “Rachel! Rachel, you look so wonderful in a dress!” And, without warning, procured a digital camera from somewhere around her person, proceeding to snap picture after picture.
“No, wait a minute,” Tara said, looking at her critically. “The dropped empire waist makes her hips look abnormally wide. Kory, we can’t let her get this one.”
Rachel glared. “It has glitter.”
Kory pranced closer, grinning. “And you look so cuuute!”
Rachel pursed her lips and went back into the dressing room from whence she had come.
Taking the dress off was another matter; by the time she had pulled it off her head, panting a little, she realized her skin was covered in despicable sparkles that shone every time she moved.
In the changing room next to her, which had been evacuated just as she was showing Tara and Kory the dress, she heard somebody begin the process of trying on clothing. She actually wasn’t sure what they were doing, but she did know that there was more than one person next door; and she had a pretty good idea of what they were doing. “Can’t I even try on clothing in peace?” She muttered, swallowing with difficulty. She disliked others’ emotions, and those coming from next door were extremely strong.
“…Are you joking?” Rachel muttered. Of all places, a changing room was one of the most random locations to screw somebody. Mentally telling herself to kill Kory once this predicament was over, she moved on to the three remaining dresses.
For the next half-hour, Rachel endured some sort of sadistic torture. Kory didn’t like the black dress because it washed her out, although Tara thought it flattered her form. Both of them loved the red dress; she despised it. The dark blue one was her favorite; although Tara said the halter style elongated her neck, and she’d refuse to allow her to buy it if she was planning on wearing heels (she wasn’t), Rachel liked it because of the material-a polyester-spandex blend (although she was sort of wary about the 5% of spandex)-and how it felt against her skin. She also liked the color, especially when the alternative was a red creation that resembled a ball gown more than a homecoming dress.
“So that’s it, then?” Asked Raven quietly as they drove away (Tara had located a pair of flats on discount).
“Well, we’ll be over next weekend to do your makeup, and of course to make sure you actually come.” Tara said all of this matter-of-factly. “Gar and Leo wanted to come, too, but we’ve already told them that we’re meeting them there.”
Rachel fell silent. Kory turned around. “Rachel, you will find a date,” she said softly.
Rachel scowled. “I’m never wearing another dress again.”
The week itself flew by quickly. There was actually very little incident, since Rachel really didn’t talk much. She spent her time finishing Beyond Good And Evil, and then reading Wuthering Heights and War and Peace, since that’s what they’d be reading in Literature once they finished The Odyssey. Gar tried to talk to her once, and she pointedly ignored him; Tim tried, twice, but she ignored him, too. She felt a little bit more guilty about ignoring Tim than ignoring Gar, but she was bitter about being forced to attend Homecoming and, although it wasn’t Tim’s fault, she was upset that he was still planning on going with another girl.
Saturday evening arrived, and Rachel miserably ate a cup of Ramen noodles, waiting for the door. The sunset was beautiful through the kitchen window, but she could spare little emotion for it, as Kory and Tara rang the bell and then let themselves in.
“Rachel! Rachel, you’re not in your dress yet!” Kory exclaimed.
“Come on. You’re going to have a great time. You can’t chicken out now. We’ve already got makeup ready, not to mention that you bought a dress.” Tara looked a little forlorn.
“I know,” Rachel mumbled.
Tara and Kory insisted that it was a fast job, but Rachel had never felt like time passed as painfully slowly as it did then. She changed, put her shoes on, and then was prevailed upon to sit still on the bathroom counter while Kory and Tara did things with unrecognizable creams, powders, and liquids.
When all was done, Rachel was afraid to look in the mirror. Kory turned her around, and told her to open her eyes.
She was surprised-se recognized herself, but she’d never seen how she looked with cosmetics applied to her face. At the same time, it looked pretty obvious to her, because she was used to seeing her face without anything but a thin layer of sunblock; still, she couldn’t discredit her two friends for trying, and she /did/ think it was alright, for a few hours.
“Shit! It’s already eight!” Tara grabbed Kory’s wrist, and Kory grabbed Rachel’s. Rachel just managed to turn the lights out before being pulled out of her house. Clutching to her purse and making sure she had her keys, Rachel submitted to Kory and settled into the backseat of Tara’s car.
On the way there, Rachel observed the other two. Tara’s dress was a strapless, pale yellow unit; she didn’t really know anything about it, but Tara looked surprisingly attractive. Kory was, of course, in a pink dress; hers had thin straps not unlike the silver dress she had tried on. Which, Rachel recalled, still made her furious; she’d been finding glitter everywhere for the past week.
The car ride, which usually took too long, now seemed to be over all too quickly. “I’m not going to dance,” Rachel reminded them. “I never said I would.”
Kory waved her quiet as Tara parked, and then the two cajoled Rachel out of the backseat. Linking arms with her, they led her down the hallway. Rachel glowered, but a look of unadulterated fear came into her eyes as the auditorium approached.
She didn’t bother to resist as Kory flung the door open, but she immediately detangled herself from the two. Leo and Gar were upon them in an instant; Gar sending her an immensely guilty look, to which she responded by pinning him with a particularly acidic glare.
Just behind the two, who were busy talking already to Tara and Kory, appeared Tim and Vic. Tim made eye contact and looked away; Vic was openly excited. “Rachel, you look fantastic! I can’t believe you didn’t want to come! Come on, you guys, the party just started!”
Angrily, she followed the group. Tim dropped back, and the followed the others into the crowded mess of bodies, blinking neon lights, and altogether smelly darkness. “This is all your fault, I hope you know,” Rachel ground out.
Tim had the grace to look decently guilty for a moment. “Sorry,” he said. “Well, not really. It’s worth it.”
“For who?” She practically snarled.
“For me, of course. You look nice in a dress.”
Rachel didn’t bother to reply directly to that comment. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy, while I go spend the rest of the night in misery.” With that, she broke off and headed to the food table, where she knew there would be a bowl of spiked punch. If it was between dancing and getting drunk enough to not feel the pain of the evening, she’d rather pick the latter.
The first mouthful of punch went down like acid; the kids at Jump High really knew how to set the tone for a party. There were so many additives that Rachel couldn’t tell what the original flavor was supposed to be. Gloomily, she took her cup and retreated to the wall, where she had one more sip before deciding to wait and see if there would be a better alternative than drinking a significant amount of the punch.
From a distance, she recognized Kory, Gar, Vic, Tara, and Leo on the dance floor. She couldn’t find Tim; a few kids waltzed by with cups in their hands, already acting tipsy. She exhaled again; it would be a long night.
She made it through two of the unbearably poppy songs playing on the intercom and was just about to actually drink from her cup, when Tim appeared at her elbow.
“I’m sorry you’re not enjoying yourself,” he said simply. Rachel looked aggrieved.
“Dancing isn’t something I enjoy.”
“There’s other things you can do at a dance,” he insisted. “There are a lot of people not dancing. Look at the social life.”
Rachel looked around and sighed. “Fine. I forgive you.” She hated that, more than anything-admitting to him that he’d won. His mouth twitched, but he indicated the half-extended bleachers, presumably set out for those taking a break from dancing. “So, how was your week?”
“The most bloody awful week I’ve yet experienced,” she said dully. “Not that this is much better. Do you know, I think when Tara and Kory took me to try on dresses, I swear Garth was there with his girlfriend.”
Tim looked mildly curious. “You actually saw them? Garth doesn’t really have a girlfriend, as far as I know.”
Rachel shook her head. “Just heard them.”
Tim smirked. Rachel sighed.
Tim seemed to notice her cup. “You’re not actually drinking that, are you?” Rachel shook her head. “Well, you should get rid of it. I don’t think you should drink alcohol.”
Rachel rolled her eyes and disposed of the half-full cup; as she returned to her seat, a slightly familiar song came on. She thought for a moment, until finally she placed it. “Hey, Tim. It’s your song…” She paused, as he looked faintly pained. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah… This song is called Hands Down.” He looked uncomfortable. “Here, though. Listen to this song.” To Rachel’s utter amazement, he pulled out his Walkman.
“Is there anywhere you don’t take this?” She asked curiously, putting the headphones into her ears. Hands Down had ended, and some punky song was now booming over the loudspeakers; off a little ways, the crowd was a throbbing mass of dancers.
Finally, a piano started on the speakers in her ears, with a drum beat quickly following in, and finally a guitar; she pursed her lips at the poppy/alternative flavor, again.
I’m not a perfect person
There’s many things I wish I didn’t do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
Rachel frowned, and removed the earphones. Tim wasn’t looking at her. “Why do you listen to these songs?” Rachel prodded.
Tim sighed, and finally made eye contact. The black of his outfit made the cold blue of his eyes stand out. “The first song is called Hands Down. You’ve listened to it, and heard what it’s about. You’re right that I don’t listen to alternative pop music usually, but that song is a metaphor for my relationship with Kory.”
Rachel was vaguely aware of some shake-your-hips song over the loudspeaker; her fellow students, singing along and moving their bodies to the beat; but it all faded to a spot in the back of her brain.
“Bur I thought that you and Kory-“ Rachel began.
“We’re over, of course. We’re not going to get back together. But we’re still good friends, and we’re going to stay good friends. I want her to be happy, but sometimes I like to remember. And that song is how our relationship was.”
“It’s a very happy song,” Rachel said slowly. She couldn’t figure out why Tim was telling her this.
“Do you know the name of the second song?” He asked, seriously. Rachel shook her head.
“It’s also a slightly-poppy alternative song. I’m really not into them,” he said suddenly, “but when I run across songs that mean something important to me, I can’t help but adjust my preferences slightly.”
Rachel stared at him.
“Well, so the second song is called The Reason. I’ve placed it side-by-side with Hands Down because I needed to look at something. I can always look back and remember the first one, but I want the second one to be my life-my reason,” he said wryly. “It makes much more sense to me. It’s complete-it’s not just a facet of my life, but it is my life.”
Rachel glanced to either side, as though his meaning had somehow gotten around her without her noticing. “…I don’t get it.”
Tim smiled, a little sadly. “The second one is a metaphor for my relationship with you, Rachel,” he said.
Rachel froze, her heart pounding in her ears; she felt her face color slightly. She was his reason. She didn’t know how long she’d been waiting, or how long it’d been since she’d admitted it to herself.
Finally, she wet her lips, and looked back up at him. “But we’re…”
Whatever she’d been about to say was interrupted as an all-too-familiar rhythm created by a monotonous piano note opened on the speaker, followed by a drum, and a guitar. Tim stood, smiling, and held out his hand. Fear gripped Rachel vaguely, but she took his hand, and he led them to the dance floor. She saw no point in protesting, even though her heart was whimpering very loudly.
Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he was holding her about the waist, and they were slowly revolving; although other couples were sharing the dance floor, she felt eyes on them, and cracked an eye open to see Kory, Gar, Victor, Tara, and Leo watching her. She felt a warmth rising to her cheeks, but disregarded it; the fear had left her heart, and it was singing joyfully. Tim was hers; she was Tim’s; and they were Reasons, not simply moments.
Vaguely, she was aware of her friends joining the crowd, but suddenly all else was lost, because Tim was staring down at her. She blinked innocently, and then another reason in her long string of nightly epiphanies hit her. She accepted his kiss wholeheartedly as the notes of the song folded around them; and finally, for the first time in a long time, a happiness settled around her peacefully.
She didn’t remember much of the evening except that, and his goodnight kiss; in fact, she would remember little else from that semester, except that it had been the first time she and Tim and admitted their feelings to each other; and that, years later, she would listen to their song on his radio-cassette player, think of that night, and kiss him again.
A NOTE ON NAMES
*Raven- Rachel Roth
*Robin- Tim Drake (NOTE: He’s not necessarily the Tim Drake from the original comic books)
*Starfire- Kory Anders
*Beast Boy- Garfield Logan
*Cyborg- Victor Stone
*Terra- Tara Markov
*Redstar- Leonid Kovar
*Aqualad- Garth (last name couldn’t be recovered)
On Robin: The Teen Titans cartoon, aired on cartoon network until 2006, has the character “Robin.” To avoid confusion, this is the character I had been using; the following excerpt from an interview with Marv Wolfman:
“The Robin [the cartoon Teen Titans] are using is another character you co-created almost ten years after the Titans.”
MW: No, it's just Robin; they don't have any secret identities. So you don't know if it's Dick Grayson or Tim Drake. There's no way of knowing, because the characters only refer to themselves as their superhero names. In the 13 scripts I read, they are never in civilian identity.
This is why I refer to him as Tim Drake, for convenience’s sake, but for the point of the story, he could just as easily be Dick Grayson.)
Author: Icy
Pairing: Robin/Raven
Fandom: Teen Titans
Rating: moderate to high PG-13
Disclaimer: Teen Titans is ® DC Comics. No disrespect intended.
Author’s Note: These are taking place when the titans are, well, titans… Meaning that (for example) Raven will be Raven instead of Rachel Roth. Unless otherwise mentioned.
These aren’t going to form a story, but they won’t be drabbles, either. Just free-standing.
This is an AU story! It DOES take place in a universe where the titans are NORMAL teenagers, who attend a normal high school, and who happen to be friends. Just in case you’re confused, don’t say I didn’t warn you. (But it’s not really THAT confusing.) *This Also Means That I Will Not Be Using Their “Superhero Names” =)
Maybe I’ll expand this into a full story later, like… with chapters.
WARNING: It’s LONG. *VERY* long.
WARNING 2: It’s uncomfortable to read. So much high-school-age girl stuff involved.
WARNING 3: NOT BETA’D
List of Kisses
(
{{*Yay! I finally Finished!!}}
Rachel stared half-attentively at the chalkboard, where a diagram of the function xy=1 was drawn, illustrating the properties of asymptotes. Occupying the desk left of her, Vic was frantically scribbling page after messy page of notes; her eyes chanced to drift, drawn by his furious motions, and she made out a diagram so complicated she wondered how it incorporated the topic on hand at all. Then again, Vic had always been good at math. He’d been available on the few occasions she needed tutoring; he’d come to her more than often, asking for help in Religions. The class was quite a joke, actually, but Vic was too logical-minded. Their study group did have benefits, anyhow: Victor and Garfield were good at PE, although Gar wasn’t good for much else. However, Rachel despised PE with a fierce loathing, and he’d been more than happy to drop hints on how to pretend to be working while really doing nothing. Technically that was a bad thing, but when it came to PE, Rachel was desperate. Tim was good at PE too, but he was also good at humanities and religion-most of the abstract classes, actually. The ones she was good at. She had a better grade than him in English, though. She was the accepted English guru of the school, due to her constant proximity to a book of some sort. And Kory was the science nerd, but she somehow managed to keep good grades in every subject with a minimum amount of help. She was pretty, too, which made her popular enough that, had she wanted, she could’ve left them at any given moment. She had told them she didn’t want to; she felt at home with them, and she wouldn’t leave for all the other company in the world-for what was company compared to friends? Rachel had decided it was for the best, as Kory did have odd quirks and, because she was a foreigner, had a vague difficulty with the language at times. She was aware of the other students and their ability to hurt, and for that reason, wanted to protect Kory. Kory was different, and that attracted others, but it could also repel them. She was glad of the support their group lended, although she’d never needed it more than once; she knew that no other group of companions in the school could be as close as they were to each other, and for that, she was proud.
Turning back to the board, Rachel copied down the definition of limits listlessly, her thoughts elsewhere. In front of her sat Tim; behind her, Kory was scribbling frantically, probably trying to keep up with Victor. Next to Kory, behind Victor, Gar was doodling in the margins of his paper. When he noticed her looking, he grinned and pretended to pay attention. Rachel rolled her eyes and returned her gaze forward, but was distracted as she saw Tim slip a small oval attached to a cord into his ear; the cord led to his lap, where some device she couldn’t see rested. For a moment she silently observed, curious, but soon returned to her notebook and the whiteboard. The teacher was assigning homework.
As the bell rang for lunch, Rachel stood and hurried out before the rest of the group could catch up with her. Head down, Rachel didn’t notice as a thin form leaned against the closed door of the locker next to her, until a boyish voice said, “Hey, Rachel.”
The pale schoolgirl looked up, a vague annoyance building behind her temples. Tara Markov, the sixth and final component to their group, and the only one with a different schedule. “Tara. How was Statistics?”
Tara rolled her eyes in a perfectly passable imitation of the blond counterparts passing in the halls. “Nowhere near as interesting as Precalc, I’m sure,” she replied in a flattish tone. Rachel managed to force her thick biology book into her book bag, retrieve Beyond Good And Evil, her current read. She didn’t care for Nietzsche per se, but he represented the counterpart of a diverse argument she rarely had a chance to experience firsthandedly. Tara fell into step as Rachel slammed her locker shut and began walking to the cafeteria, nose in her book. “Well, anyways, Leo was talking to me during class and wanted to know if we could hook up for lunch. You know, all of us and him.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I think he’s into Kory, you know. This is the third time in the past month he’s asked me if I’ll be with her.”
Rachel listened vaguely, taking in none of it and mechanically opening the door and finding her table. Kory and Gar were already seated, with Leo on Gar’s other side; Victor was sitting next to Gar. Tara sat next to Victor and started chattering away animatedly; Rachel seated herself next to Leo, leaving the empty chair between herself and Tara. (Although they’re round table usually only held six chairs, Leo had pulled up an extra one.) She was on the verge of opening her biodegradable container of rice balls and sushi-she’d already poured her traditional mug of herbal tea-when Tim pulled out the chair beside her and vaguely fell into the seat.
She raised her eyebrows at him and cocked her head-Tara was talking loudly to Vic and Gar, and Leo’s thick accent drowned out whatever conversations other tables might be trying to impose upon their bubble. Tim glanced moodily around the table, then at her, and he shrugged. She knew he would have a ham sandwich with an apple, a bag of potato chips, and a diet Pepsi before he pulled them out. She noticed him placing a bulky object in the pocket of his bomber jacket before he pulled out his assortment. “What is it today?”
She swirled her mug gently, inhaling the softly fragrant steam. “Ginseng and hibiscus.” This was a routine the others sometimes participated in; her love of tea had quickly become an object of attraction, and they were strangely fascinated by her preference for the drink. It was a light humor, a loosely-practiced routine they generally opened lunch with. Whoever wasn’t busy talking yet would ask about her flavor of tea, and she would reply. They had become used to each others’ lunches, too; Gar always had tofu or vegetables, and he was teased for his eating habit almost as much as Rachel was for her drinking. This was part of their camaraderie, and at their third year together, they were loath to give up these habits, despite the intense familiarity of them. Rachel thought that was perhaps the reason why they clung to them.
Tim raised one eyebrow. “A little bit Eastern and exotic,” he commented, and watched mutely as she stirred a teaspoon of honey into the mug and then let it sit to steep. She noticed his icy blue eyes remaining on her mug, and she knew that when he stared into the distance, something was bothering him. Privately, in the back of her mind somewhere, behind the love she’d developed for their group, she had the selfish feeling that they were different from the other four, because they were natural introverts, and because they were serious, and because they both had strife in their pasts. She wasn’t sure why this was selfish, except that she connected it to a vague sense of being more deserving, or of superiority, or something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Either way, it was her guilty secret, hidden away at the back of her heart. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but feel that she understood Tim best of the group, although he was quite fond of Kory, and he was also close to Vic.
She chewed on a rice ball and contemplated him, swallowed, and said, “What are you thinking about?”
He looked startled, but hid his expression under a smile meant to be reassuring. “Nothing. Sorry, I was distracted. Asymptotes, right? Interesting lesson.” He took a bite of his sandwich.
Rachel rolled her eyes at his feeble excuse but skirted around it, for his sake. “You have any idea what he’s up to?” She jerked her thumb at Leo. The Russian had sat with them before, but lately he’d been coming off a bit strongly.
Tim shrugged. “What can we ever know about foreign exchange students?” His eyes rested on Leo and Kory, and Rachel followed his gaze, for a few short seconds.
“He’s really quite obvious.”
“It must be a foreign exchange thing,” Tim said, and shrugged. “Maybe to us it’s obvious, but it looks like Kory hasn’t caught on. Probably comes from having three language barriers between them.”
Rachel grinned. “They could be a shoo-in for homecoming nominations in a year or two, if they keep it up,” she said jovially. Then she paused and said, “I wonder if that’s what’s on his mind here…”
Tim suddenly became very absorbed in opening his diet Pepsi can, and Rachel fell silent, wondering why Robin was obsessing about homecoming. School had been back in session for nearly a month now, and since homecoming was a week before Halloween and fast approaching, they had talked briefly about their plans-Gar was obviously going to ask Tara, although neither of them had said anything; Vic was keeping quiet about his plans, and it appeared that Kory would now be going. Rachel had expressed an interest in boycotting the entire deal for pre-Halloween festivities, but had been met with furious resistance from Gar, Vic, and Kory. She was still determined to hold out-dances really weren’t her thing, although the nightlife of the city made her comfortable, for she had an affinity for night.
Comprehension dawned somewhat slowly. “Tim,” Rachel said slowly. “You weren’t going to ask Kory yourself, were you?”
Tim almost dropped his can of soda, and she felt a little bit bad. “No,” he mumbled, which she knew meant yes. Even Tim the Intelligent wasn’t immune to her foreign beauty. Rachel tried to smile, failed, and so instead swallowed a large mouthful of tea to avoid talking. Tim did instead. “I wasn’t even going to go, until Vic beat me at Gamestation, after I bet him that if I lost, I would.” He paused. “If he lost, he was going to have to try out for the school ballet team.”
Rachel marveled at how going to a dance could be equivalent to a ballet team. The ballet team would be painful beyond death, but Vic would’ve taken it in stride and laughed about it all while pirouetting gracefully and plié-ing in the hallways. That was ultimately the difference between her and Vic, she supposed-he didn’t mind making a fool of himself, while she avoided it at all costs. It wasn’t as though it required effort-she simply thought before she spoke or acted. She’d always been a bit reserved, but it hadn’t ever been a problem. It had kept her from making friends until she got to Jump High, when she and the others had somehow bonded, but she’d always taken solace in her books.
Rachel noticed Tim was looking at her as though expecting a response, and so she flushed slightly. “Sorry?”
Tim exhaled softly. “I said, are you still planning on skipping the dance?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I still don’t see what good would come of my attendance; nobody else would gain any benefit, and I would certainly have a wretched time, so I think I’m going to stick with the original plan.”
For some cruel reason, the table had just taken that moment to fall into a brief lull in the rippling tide of conversation; five voices descended upon her at once.
“You have to come, Rae!” Vic exclaimed in the loudest voice. “It just won’t be the same without you there!”
“Yeah, come on! It’ll be fun,” chimed in Gar. Next to him, Tara nodded enthusiastically and took a deep breath.
“You have to come, Rachel, because you’re an important part of the group and you helped me feel welcome when I first came to the school and so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t go because we’ll all miss you and you’d be absolutely beautiful in a homecoming dress and-“
Tara’s voice was then drowned out by Kory’s vehement exclamation, rivaling Vic’s in volume and ferocity. “We WON’T take no for an answer, Rachel! Homecoming is a wonderful community thriving with the spirit of good friends and joy, intermingled by the lively expression of happiness through dancing to the loud music!”
Raven rolled her eyes but was taken by surprise as Leo said, “Yes, Ray Chel, I think we would like your company of attendance very much so.”
She inhaled what she hoped to be a peace-restoring breath, raised her mug to her lips, and then opened her eyes. All of them were watching her, some mutinously, some hopefully. She took another breath. “No.”
As the table interjected again, she rolled her eyes and said, “Listen, guys. I’m not a fan of dancing and I’ve never worn a dress before, so there’s really no reason to go. Besides, it’s really dumb to go without a date. This isn’t the eighth grade dance anymore, and I’m not stupid enough to act like it is.”
The ensuing chaos involved her attendance being decided upon, Tara and Kory promising to pick her up this weekend to go dress shopping, and profound expressions of relief that none of them were on the committee, because it would have been far too stressful. After mingled discussion of the event, Kory looked at Rachel triumphantly and said, “There! All your problems are solved!”
Feeling as though she was fighting a losing battle, and determined to win, Rachel knit her brows. “I’m NOT going without a date!”
Silence descended upon the table as each of the five attempted to ponder this; Rachel shook her head. “Forget it. I’m not going with somebody who asked me because you made them. They have to have asked of their own accord. And since that’s not going to happen, I think it’s settled-I’m not going.”
Tara looked a little sad at this pronouncement, and Garfield said, “Come on, Rachel. It’ll be fun and if you’re not there, it just won’t be the same…”
Rachel stood, seized her empty mug, and moved to dispose of her empty sushi container. “Sorry, guys, but you’ll have to do without me.” It won’t be too difficult, she said silently.
On the way out the door, after tossing the black cellophane container in the recycle bin, she shot a look back their way. They were huddling together, presumably plotting some sort of action. Tim looked up and made eye contact; Rachel blushed and hurried out of the cafeteria, to replace her mug in its rightful position, on the shelf of her locker.
As she was replacing Beyond Good and Evil, her peripherary senses informed her of another body standing slightly behind her and to her right. Looking up, she was mildly surprised to see Tim. “How was ginseng and hibiscus?”
Rachel closed her locker and shrugged. “It had good potential, but the blend was weak.” She started walking, to get to class early. It was only Classic Literature; she’d read The Odyssey at least ten times before it had been assigned.
Tim fell into step next to her. “Even with the honey?”
Rachel looked over at him. “Well, there’s certain teas which are disposed to honey, and certain teas which are disposed to sugar. You have to be able to tell which is which, but it’s not too hard to figure out.”
He made some thinking noise, so she returned her gaze forward. “Well, did we figure out why Leo was eating with us? Tara said that he asked her if he could.”
Tim grunted. Rachel took this to mean not really. “Well, he definitely wants to ask her to the dance, but he’s waiting until it’s closer.” Rachel could detect a note of possessiveness in his voice, and her levels of irritation rose.
“Well, why didn’t you just ask her then? There’s no point in being annoyed about it. It’s not going to stop him from asking her.”
Tim shot her a look of annoyance. “I already told you, I didn’t want to ask Kory!”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Well, you don’t sound very happy for her.” When Tim scowled, she said, “You don’t have to be so possessive.”
“Kory /was/ mine from the beginning, Rachel. I’m entitled to some amount of possessiveness.”
Rachel snorted. “It’s good enough that you guys remained friends after ending it, and it’s good enough that you’re still friends. You can’t honestly still want to be with her. If I recall, weren’t you the one to break it off?”
Tim ran a hand through his hair. “Yes and no. I suggested it but she’d decided to do it almost a week before I had; she just didn’t have the right time. I’m not giving her up whether or not we’re together, Rachel; since she still wants to be friends, I’m happy to take what I can get.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “And now you regret ending it?”
Tim glared at her. “I didn’t say that. It wasn’t working out, remember? But I still don’t want someone else to hurt her. I was lucky that I didn’t hurt her much. We broke up peacefully, remember?”
Rachel looked away. “I’m more attuned to the group’s emotions than you guys realize,” she said. “You two had tension between you, but it’s really not my business.”
Tim shrugged. “Well, you know now, anyway.”
Rachel looked up and opened the classroom door; besides them, it was otherwise empty. Rachel took a seat in her customary position; rather than sit in front of her, Tim took the seat next to her. Rachel looked up at him as he sat down. “Where’s Tara going to sit?” In truth, she didn’t mind Tim’s presence; she’d never really been on great terms with Tara, and the blond still annoyed her.
Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. In front of you. Next to Gar?”
A soft beeping interrupted him, and Rachel pulled out her cell phone from her messenger bag.
Greenguy: Meet me at your locker
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Gar.”
Tim shrugged. “What does he want?”
“He wants to see me at my locker…” She trailed off.
“Go meet him,” suggested Tim.
Rachel sighed. “Fine.” She rose and exited the classroom, still holding her cell phone.
She navigated the halls much more quickly than when she’d been talking to Tim. Within moments, she was at her locker, scowling at Garfield.
“Here’s the thing,” the little green-eyed bugger began. “So I really wanted to ask Tara to Homecoming-“
“And, what, you need my permission?” Rachel asked acidly.
Garfield grimaced. “Well, I was thinking. We all really want you to come, and I decided, ‘You know, Gar, Tara’s really pretty. She could have a million other guys asking her. But Rachel, well, she still needs a date.”
Rachel’s temper flared up. “You’re asking me to the dance?”
Garfield shrugged. “Something like that.”
Rachel’s voice quivered with anger. “So you’re asking me because the person you wanted to bring is pretty enough to get other dates, but I basically can’t even get a date that’s not out of pity?”
Garfield processed this slowly; suddenly he realized his mistake. “No, that’s not what I-“
Rachel turned and fled, leaving Gar, not registering she passed Tim as she turned the corner; her footsteps echoed the halls, still empty and echoey; she ran despite her hatred for P.E. and running; flights of stairs fell below her feet, uncounted. Somewhere deep inside, she was burning with humiliation, shame, and grief; was she really not good enough for a real date? Something else that had been vaguely bothering her surfaced as she burst out onto the school’s roof and let the door slam closed behind her; the cool breeze and sunlight beckoned her to the edge, and she perched there, leaning against the brick barrier; who was Tim planning on asking? Rather, who had he been planning on asking? For all her previous words, she harbored a fierce possessiveness over him that was of the utmost secrecy. She hardly bothered to establish her thoughts of connection, but she felt the rest of the group paled to mediocrity when they were involved. It was selfish, and she wasn’t proud of it, but while everybody brought something to their group, she felt herself to be somewhat superior to the others-and Tim, well, she couldn’t say she was superior to him. She had to call him her equal, because he was intelligent and thoughtful and as introversive and conscious of others as she was. She couldn’t stand the thought of Tara beating her, but Kory had been OK, because Kory was the closest thing she had to another friend who was also a girl, and because she knew what it felt like to be alienated from those around you; and she never wanted Kory to experience that.
But anybody else, and that frustrated her. She didn’t involve herself with others romantically because she was a selfish person, and because she’d never found the person right for her. Nevertheless, her ideas regarding Tim had developed slowly, and she was now too deep to retract anything she’d decided in her mind. Tim insisted it hadn’t bee Kory, though, and that made her blood boil. Anybody else who would take Tim away-anybody else who was undeserving and less intelligent and complex and not on the same level as her and Tim-wasn’t allowed to go with him. But she couldn’t do anything about it, really.
Immediately, self-loathing rose to the surface and she leaned out bitterly against the wind, wondering at her own selfishness and immaturity. Anybody else thrust into her situation-a mother abandoned by her lover, who died bringing her into life; passage from various institutions and homes until she had established her own home, where she now lived-anybody else wouldn’t hesitate to rise above her circumstances and become better than those who had put her into the situation, but for some reason she found herself unable to accept those circumstances, and so she clung to whatever precarious protection the group offered her, and focused on her schoolwork. Tim, she felt, was a kindred spirit-also an orphan, also occupied with a past full of mysteries-and she’d been blessed to find him and make such a connection with him. Here she was, selfishly hoping for more, and more would never come, because she wasn’t able to admit to herself that all she wanted was Tim, all to herself.
The door opened behind her, but she didn’t hear it; she only jumped badly when Tim himself leaned up against the brick barrier and gazed out over the streets. She was panicked, then-that somehow, irrationally, he must have figured her out, because he’d appeared just as she was thinking.
“Rachel,” Tim said, and she found that she didn’t want to hear him talk about Gar, but she wasn’t able to speak. “Gar’s a dick and he’s wrong, so don’t pay attention to what he said to you.” Rachel licked her lips but couldn’t bring any words from her voice. Tim was fishing around in his pocket, and when he pulled out his hand, she saw an old-fashioned Walkman, the original kind-the ones that played tapes. She realized he’d been listening to it all day.
He offered her an earphone, and she grudgingly accepted it. However he had done it, he had compiled his tape himself; she wrinkled her nose at the poppy guitar/keyboard introduction and moved to yank the speaker from her ear, but he held up a finger. “I’m a lyrics person, not a melody person.” So she sat quietly and listened to the words of the song, which she would’ve been liable to do anyhow: she was a lyrics person as well.
Breathe in for luck/Breathe in so deep
This air is blessed/You share with me
This night is wild/So calm and dull
These hearts they race/From self-control
Rachel listened to Dashboard Confessional quietly, her mind slowing, and her heartbeat racing. Tim never would’ve struck her as the fan of meaningful songs; even as she thought this, she wondered what meaning it had for him, because on the surface, it appeared the same as it did upon examination: it was romantic, and it made her wistful, but she couldn’t find anything deep beyond the beauty of the moment it presented.
At the end of the song, he turned it off, and stood looking at her. She felt a little self-conscious. “What is it?”
He shrugged. “I just thought you might want to know that class started twenty minutes ago, and we’re legally cutting class.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “My mistake.” It wasn’t as though they’d have learned anything; analyzing the Achaeans’ motives in the fifth segment of the story was hardly worth sitting through.
Tim was putting away the Walkman. “It’s not your fault. I told you, don’t pay attention to what Gar says.”
Rachel hated the slight quiver thrilling through her at his voice. “So, are we just going to waltz into class halfway through?”
Tim shrugged. “You’re free to. I’m going to stay out here.”
Rachel curiously turned back around, and shrugged. “Well, alright.” She sat down against the wall and he sat next to her. “Did you hear about fourth hour Art History?”
Tim glanced sideways at her. “Garth got a hand job in the back of class while the movie was playing,” he said in a voice of minor amusement.
Rachel shrugged again. “I can’t believe the teacher didn’t know. Classrooms are only so big, you know.”
“Well, obviously the other students found out, because it’s spread pretty quickly.”
“Its not every day students receive hand jobs in the back of full classrooms.”
“True,” Tim agreed. “This will probably make the Top Ten, right up there with the Homecoming Incident of ’89,” he decided.
Rachel just rolled her eyes.
“Hey Rachel,” he said. “I know you think it would be a waste of your time, but I think you should come to homecoming. Kory and Tara are already determined to buy you a dress if you won’t get one yourself.”
Rachel scowled. “They would, wouldn’t they.”
Tim shrugged. “I think you’re fighting a losing battle. Why not just come?”
Rachel continued to scowl. “Everybody wants me there, but does nobody realize that I just don’t want to be there?”
“Everybody would rather have you there, Rachel. We know that if you’re not having fun with us, you’d be busy moping by yourself.”
“I wouldn’t be having fun! I’d be there against my will!”
“It’s better than you being stuck at home, missing out on whatever else would happen.”
Rachel exhaled in frustration. “So even though I have absolutely no desire to go, you’d all rather have me there, having a horrible time, than at home, doing something I might enjoy.”
Tim looked up and into her eyes. “You and I both know you never enjoy yourself at home,” he said, almost coldly. “The bell’s ringing.” And with that he stood and made his way over to the door.
Mutely, she followed him. After picking up their bags they headed for World History, but she didn’t speak to any of the Group for the rest of the day.
The rest of the week came and went, and in a miserable Saturday morning, Rachel found herself waking, grooming herself for the day, eating, and washing her dishes with the utmost dread. Sure enough, at precisely half past nine, just as she was loading her plate and bowl into the dishwasher, her intercom buzzed.
Moodily, Rachel went to the door. Immediately, two brightly-dressed teenage girls threw themselves upon her, prevailing.
“Dillard’s and Macy’s are both having fabulous sales,” Tara began, talking faster than Rachel could immediately follow, as Kory clung to her feet in the hopes of preventing her from vanishing. “We’re going to check the Junior’s and Misses’ section at Macy’s first, because they’ve got some good ones on clearance, and then we’ll be heading straight over to Dillard’s, since we’re more likely to find something there if we fail at Macy’s.”
Mutely, and resigned to her fate at this point, Rachel let the two drag her out to Tara’s magenta Volkswagen Beetle. She was unceremoniously stuffed into the backseat, while sulking at having lost to Tim.
The Misses’ dress department at Macy’s was filled with chiffon-based, pink and white creations made for girls about half Rachel’s height. She watched, open-mouthed, as Tara and Kory moved through the dress racks, discussing her height. As they came back and announced their new destination-Junior’s-she managed, “Is it always so pink?”
“Well, no,” conceded Kory. “Usually there’s a lot of colors. Just wait until we get to the Juniors’.”
And once there, Rachel found herself faced with the same array of tulle and chiffon, this time in a few pastel colors.
“Tara,” she said stubbornly. “I’m not wearing anything pink.”
“Come on,” insisted the blond, pulling her into the doom-pronouncing racks of dresses.
Rachel sulked the entire way through, rejecting any of the dresses that were pink or really brightly-colored at all; any that were made of chiffon, tulle, or another floaty, Kory-approved material; and any that came to above or to her knees.
Kory crossed her arms. “You aught to at least try some of these on,” she attempted, indicating a green cocktail dress with a layer of black, perforated tulle under the skirt to help give it volume.
Rachel scowled.
Tara shrugged. “Let’s go to Dillard’s. If there’s nothing, we can always come back.”
Kory reluctantly left, and Rachel followed in their wake, wondering how in the world she had before failed to notice what girls they were.
Countless dresses later, Rachel had finally agreed to try on three, however reluctantly. One was dark blue; one was silver; and one was black. Kory begged her to try a pink one, but Rachel flatly refused.
“Red!” Kory protested, brandishing one final dress. Rachel felt like her head was going to explode. “It’s red, it’s satin, there’s no lace or tulle, it’s form-fitting, and it’s almost floor-length. What more could you want?”
“Fine,” Rachel snapped, grabbed the last dress, and hurried into the dressing room before Tara found something else.
“Come out in each one!” Kory yelled into the changing room complex; a few mothers, waiting for their daughters outside their respective doors, looked worried.
Rachel struggled to pull the silver one over her head. There weren’t any zippers, buttons, or clasps, so she had to make do with propping herself against the wall and gradually tugging at the material until it finally settled around her. The sleeves were thin, and rested across her shoulders. The one thing she noticed, and made her groan aloud, was the presence of glitter on the dress.
Sulkily, she emerged. Kory squealed. “Rachel! Rachel, you look so wonderful in a dress!” And, without warning, procured a digital camera from somewhere around her person, proceeding to snap picture after picture.
“No, wait a minute,” Tara said, looking at her critically. “The dropped empire waist makes her hips look abnormally wide. Kory, we can’t let her get this one.”
Rachel glared. “It has glitter.”
Kory pranced closer, grinning. “And you look so cuuute!”
Rachel pursed her lips and went back into the dressing room from whence she had come.
Taking the dress off was another matter; by the time she had pulled it off her head, panting a little, she realized her skin was covered in despicable sparkles that shone every time she moved.
In the changing room next to her, which had been evacuated just as she was showing Tara and Kory the dress, she heard somebody begin the process of trying on clothing. She actually wasn’t sure what they were doing, but she did know that there was more than one person next door; and she had a pretty good idea of what they were doing. “Can’t I even try on clothing in peace?” She muttered, swallowing with difficulty. She disliked others’ emotions, and those coming from next door were extremely strong.
“…Are you joking?” Rachel muttered. Of all places, a changing room was one of the most random locations to screw somebody. Mentally telling herself to kill Kory once this predicament was over, she moved on to the three remaining dresses.
For the next half-hour, Rachel endured some sort of sadistic torture. Kory didn’t like the black dress because it washed her out, although Tara thought it flattered her form. Both of them loved the red dress; she despised it. The dark blue one was her favorite; although Tara said the halter style elongated her neck, and she’d refuse to allow her to buy it if she was planning on wearing heels (she wasn’t), Rachel liked it because of the material-a polyester-spandex blend (although she was sort of wary about the 5% of spandex)-and how it felt against her skin. She also liked the color, especially when the alternative was a red creation that resembled a ball gown more than a homecoming dress.
“So that’s it, then?” Asked Raven quietly as they drove away (Tara had located a pair of flats on discount).
“Well, we’ll be over next weekend to do your makeup, and of course to make sure you actually come.” Tara said all of this matter-of-factly. “Gar and Leo wanted to come, too, but we’ve already told them that we’re meeting them there.”
Rachel fell silent. Kory turned around. “Rachel, you will find a date,” she said softly.
Rachel scowled. “I’m never wearing another dress again.”
The week itself flew by quickly. There was actually very little incident, since Rachel really didn’t talk much. She spent her time finishing Beyond Good And Evil, and then reading Wuthering Heights and War and Peace, since that’s what they’d be reading in Literature once they finished The Odyssey. Gar tried to talk to her once, and she pointedly ignored him; Tim tried, twice, but she ignored him, too. She felt a little bit more guilty about ignoring Tim than ignoring Gar, but she was bitter about being forced to attend Homecoming and, although it wasn’t Tim’s fault, she was upset that he was still planning on going with another girl.
Saturday evening arrived, and Rachel miserably ate a cup of Ramen noodles, waiting for the door. The sunset was beautiful through the kitchen window, but she could spare little emotion for it, as Kory and Tara rang the bell and then let themselves in.
“Rachel! Rachel, you’re not in your dress yet!” Kory exclaimed.
“Come on. You’re going to have a great time. You can’t chicken out now. We’ve already got makeup ready, not to mention that you bought a dress.” Tara looked a little forlorn.
“I know,” Rachel mumbled.
Tara and Kory insisted that it was a fast job, but Rachel had never felt like time passed as painfully slowly as it did then. She changed, put her shoes on, and then was prevailed upon to sit still on the bathroom counter while Kory and Tara did things with unrecognizable creams, powders, and liquids.
When all was done, Rachel was afraid to look in the mirror. Kory turned her around, and told her to open her eyes.
She was surprised-se recognized herself, but she’d never seen how she looked with cosmetics applied to her face. At the same time, it looked pretty obvious to her, because she was used to seeing her face without anything but a thin layer of sunblock; still, she couldn’t discredit her two friends for trying, and she /did/ think it was alright, for a few hours.
“Shit! It’s already eight!” Tara grabbed Kory’s wrist, and Kory grabbed Rachel’s. Rachel just managed to turn the lights out before being pulled out of her house. Clutching to her purse and making sure she had her keys, Rachel submitted to Kory and settled into the backseat of Tara’s car.
On the way there, Rachel observed the other two. Tara’s dress was a strapless, pale yellow unit; she didn’t really know anything about it, but Tara looked surprisingly attractive. Kory was, of course, in a pink dress; hers had thin straps not unlike the silver dress she had tried on. Which, Rachel recalled, still made her furious; she’d been finding glitter everywhere for the past week.
The car ride, which usually took too long, now seemed to be over all too quickly. “I’m not going to dance,” Rachel reminded them. “I never said I would.”
Kory waved her quiet as Tara parked, and then the two cajoled Rachel out of the backseat. Linking arms with her, they led her down the hallway. Rachel glowered, but a look of unadulterated fear came into her eyes as the auditorium approached.
She didn’t bother to resist as Kory flung the door open, but she immediately detangled herself from the two. Leo and Gar were upon them in an instant; Gar sending her an immensely guilty look, to which she responded by pinning him with a particularly acidic glare.
Just behind the two, who were busy talking already to Tara and Kory, appeared Tim and Vic. Tim made eye contact and looked away; Vic was openly excited. “Rachel, you look fantastic! I can’t believe you didn’t want to come! Come on, you guys, the party just started!”
Angrily, she followed the group. Tim dropped back, and the followed the others into the crowded mess of bodies, blinking neon lights, and altogether smelly darkness. “This is all your fault, I hope you know,” Rachel ground out.
Tim had the grace to look decently guilty for a moment. “Sorry,” he said. “Well, not really. It’s worth it.”
“For who?” She practically snarled.
“For me, of course. You look nice in a dress.”
Rachel didn’t bother to reply directly to that comment. “Well, I’m glad you’re happy, while I go spend the rest of the night in misery.” With that, she broke off and headed to the food table, where she knew there would be a bowl of spiked punch. If it was between dancing and getting drunk enough to not feel the pain of the evening, she’d rather pick the latter.
The first mouthful of punch went down like acid; the kids at Jump High really knew how to set the tone for a party. There were so many additives that Rachel couldn’t tell what the original flavor was supposed to be. Gloomily, she took her cup and retreated to the wall, where she had one more sip before deciding to wait and see if there would be a better alternative than drinking a significant amount of the punch.
From a distance, she recognized Kory, Gar, Vic, Tara, and Leo on the dance floor. She couldn’t find Tim; a few kids waltzed by with cups in their hands, already acting tipsy. She exhaled again; it would be a long night.
She made it through two of the unbearably poppy songs playing on the intercom and was just about to actually drink from her cup, when Tim appeared at her elbow.
“I’m sorry you’re not enjoying yourself,” he said simply. Rachel looked aggrieved.
“Dancing isn’t something I enjoy.”
“There’s other things you can do at a dance,” he insisted. “There are a lot of people not dancing. Look at the social life.”
Rachel looked around and sighed. “Fine. I forgive you.” She hated that, more than anything-admitting to him that he’d won. His mouth twitched, but he indicated the half-extended bleachers, presumably set out for those taking a break from dancing. “So, how was your week?”
“The most bloody awful week I’ve yet experienced,” she said dully. “Not that this is much better. Do you know, I think when Tara and Kory took me to try on dresses, I swear Garth was there with his girlfriend.”
Tim looked mildly curious. “You actually saw them? Garth doesn’t really have a girlfriend, as far as I know.”
Rachel shook her head. “Just heard them.”
Tim smirked. Rachel sighed.
Tim seemed to notice her cup. “You’re not actually drinking that, are you?” Rachel shook her head. “Well, you should get rid of it. I don’t think you should drink alcohol.”
Rachel rolled her eyes and disposed of the half-full cup; as she returned to her seat, a slightly familiar song came on. She thought for a moment, until finally she placed it. “Hey, Tim. It’s your song…” She paused, as he looked faintly pained. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah… This song is called Hands Down.” He looked uncomfortable. “Here, though. Listen to this song.” To Rachel’s utter amazement, he pulled out his Walkman.
“Is there anywhere you don’t take this?” She asked curiously, putting the headphones into her ears. Hands Down had ended, and some punky song was now booming over the loudspeakers; off a little ways, the crowd was a throbbing mass of dancers.
Finally, a piano started on the speakers in her ears, with a drum beat quickly following in, and finally a guitar; she pursed her lips at the poppy/alternative flavor, again.
I’m not a perfect person
There’s many things I wish I didn’t do
But I continue learning
I never meant to do those things to you
Rachel frowned, and removed the earphones. Tim wasn’t looking at her. “Why do you listen to these songs?” Rachel prodded.
Tim sighed, and finally made eye contact. The black of his outfit made the cold blue of his eyes stand out. “The first song is called Hands Down. You’ve listened to it, and heard what it’s about. You’re right that I don’t listen to alternative pop music usually, but that song is a metaphor for my relationship with Kory.”
Rachel was vaguely aware of some shake-your-hips song over the loudspeaker; her fellow students, singing along and moving their bodies to the beat; but it all faded to a spot in the back of her brain.
“Bur I thought that you and Kory-“ Rachel began.
“We’re over, of course. We’re not going to get back together. But we’re still good friends, and we’re going to stay good friends. I want her to be happy, but sometimes I like to remember. And that song is how our relationship was.”
“It’s a very happy song,” Rachel said slowly. She couldn’t figure out why Tim was telling her this.
“Do you know the name of the second song?” He asked, seriously. Rachel shook her head.
“It’s also a slightly-poppy alternative song. I’m really not into them,” he said suddenly, “but when I run across songs that mean something important to me, I can’t help but adjust my preferences slightly.”
Rachel stared at him.
“Well, so the second song is called The Reason. I’ve placed it side-by-side with Hands Down because I needed to look at something. I can always look back and remember the first one, but I want the second one to be my life-my reason,” he said wryly. “It makes much more sense to me. It’s complete-it’s not just a facet of my life, but it is my life.”
Rachel glanced to either side, as though his meaning had somehow gotten around her without her noticing. “…I don’t get it.”
Tim smiled, a little sadly. “The second one is a metaphor for my relationship with you, Rachel,” he said.
Rachel froze, her heart pounding in her ears; she felt her face color slightly. She was his reason. She didn’t know how long she’d been waiting, or how long it’d been since she’d admitted it to herself.
Finally, she wet her lips, and looked back up at him. “But we’re…”
Whatever she’d been about to say was interrupted as an all-too-familiar rhythm created by a monotonous piano note opened on the speaker, followed by a drum, and a guitar. Tim stood, smiling, and held out his hand. Fear gripped Rachel vaguely, but she took his hand, and he led them to the dance floor. She saw no point in protesting, even though her heart was whimpering very loudly.
Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he was holding her about the waist, and they were slowly revolving; although other couples were sharing the dance floor, she felt eyes on them, and cracked an eye open to see Kory, Gar, Victor, Tara, and Leo watching her. She felt a warmth rising to her cheeks, but disregarded it; the fear had left her heart, and it was singing joyfully. Tim was hers; she was Tim’s; and they were Reasons, not simply moments.
Vaguely, she was aware of her friends joining the crowd, but suddenly all else was lost, because Tim was staring down at her. She blinked innocently, and then another reason in her long string of nightly epiphanies hit her. She accepted his kiss wholeheartedly as the notes of the song folded around them; and finally, for the first time in a long time, a happiness settled around her peacefully.
She didn’t remember much of the evening except that, and his goodnight kiss; in fact, she would remember little else from that semester, except that it had been the first time she and Tim and admitted their feelings to each other; and that, years later, she would listen to their song on his radio-cassette player, think of that night, and kiss him again.
A NOTE ON NAMES
*Raven- Rachel Roth
*Robin- Tim Drake (NOTE: He’s not necessarily the Tim Drake from the original comic books)
*Starfire- Kory Anders
*Beast Boy- Garfield Logan
*Cyborg- Victor Stone
*Terra- Tara Markov
*Redstar- Leonid Kovar
*Aqualad- Garth (last name couldn’t be recovered)
On Robin: The Teen Titans cartoon, aired on cartoon network until 2006, has the character “Robin.” To avoid confusion, this is the character I had been using; the following excerpt from an interview with Marv Wolfman:
“The Robin [the cartoon Teen Titans] are using is another character you co-created almost ten years after the Titans.”
MW: No, it's just Robin; they don't have any secret identities. So you don't know if it's Dick Grayson or Tim Drake. There's no way of knowing, because the characters only refer to themselves as their superhero names. In the 13 scripts I read, they are never in civilian identity.
This is why I refer to him as Tim Drake, for convenience’s sake, but for the point of the story, he could just as easily be Dick Grayson.)