An Honest Mistake

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I

One night, Raven caught him looking down at his wrist, where his watch must be. He did this even as his other hand described gentle circles on her stomach, pulled taut for his pleasure.

She said nothing. Their nights were always silent. He was a quiescent lover and she took her cue from him. Besides, she was so busy keeping her emotions under control she had little energy, or even thoughts, left over to contemplate screaming in pleasure, moaning his name. She contented herself with running her hands through his charcoal hair, pulling him closer to her.

It was just as well; this way no one would know.

On this particular night, Robin looked down at his watch. Raven never closed her eyes during lovemaking. It was cowardly for her to close her eyes. Raven was strong. They were always open. At the same time she was enjoying Robin she felt contempt for him as well, that even as he spent his every night with her he always kept on the mask. She didn't know if his mysterious eyes were open as Raven locked her gaze with where she imagined his, or if they were shut tight as he entered her.

Thus Raven saw him glance at his watch. So after they made love three exhausting times, as he lay sleeping, spent, beside her, she slipped out of his loosely protective arm and hunted for a part of his uniform. She found a glove and silently padding about the room, she hid it in the darkest, highest, furthest corner of her closet, buried under a stack of books. He would never find it.

Robin awoke, seemingly refreshed, after just a few hours' rest. He glanced down at his watch: 5.18. Raven was curled up next to him and he absently brushed a lock of hair off her face, briefly glancing down at her sleeping face. Her eyes were tightly scrunched shut, as they always were whenever she slept, like a small infant's.

He climbed out of her bed and started to pull on his clothes. Everything was there except for one glove. Robin hunted for it as best he could in the flaccid light of earliest dawn. He glanced over at the bed, where he found Raven watching him, amusement flickering in the dark eyes.

"You looked at your watch," she explained.

He hadn't been aware. He shrugged. "It was an honest mistake."

II

He sneaked out of Raven's room, his training coming in handy more than ever now as he glided, a silent shadow, back to his own room.

A deep whisper arrested him. "Where you off to, man?" came Cyborg's amused voice. Robin looked up, slightly startled, at his friend. It was evident the other was holding back a laugh.

"Nowhere," Robin replied shortly. He had never been caught before. Suddenly he made a move to clasp his hands behind his back, so that Cyborg wouldn't see that one of his gloves was missing. His one bare appendage made all of him feel strangely naked. He was only glad she hadn't decided to take something more conspicuous, like his utility belt.

"You know I wake up early," Robin said.

His move was too late—Cyborg had already seen his stripped hand. "But never without one of your gloves," Cyborg said, with an arched brow.

"They're in the wash," Robin replied sourly. "I am on my way to get them right now, actually." He strode past Cyborg, schooling himself to not betray any other emotion. He could trust Cyborg more than he could the other Titans—yet having even one person know, no matter what it was or who knew, could be disasterous. It was why he took such precautions, why he was ever silent, why he never took off his mask. It was why he watched the time carefully (leading to the night's unfortunate incident), why he appreciated Raven for her own verbal tranquility. Everything they needed to say they could express in passionate kisses, soft strokes; everything they wanted to say was expressed in the twining and moving of their bodies, each body part providing a different part of the statement.

"You're not—"

"No," said Robin prematurely but firmly, correctly guessing Cyborg's dangling question. Cyborg stared at Robin long and hard, and Robin returned the scrutiny, second for second. Finally Cyborg blinked and looked away.

"All right man," he said. "But…"

"I know."

Robin strode in the direction of the laundry room, feeling only mild remorse at the lie. He couldn't tell anyone on the team; he needed to save himself and Raven. Once there, he slipped outside and doubled back, sneaking into his own room to find an extra glove.

…

After working out and showering, he walked into the kitchen to find Cyborg and Beast Boy engaged in their ritual early-morning struggle. Beast Boy shoved a plate of tofu waffles under his nose and Cyborg saluted him while cultivating bacon, eggs, and sausage in a small frying pan. From all appearances he seemed to have forgotten the earlier incident.

Ignoring the steaming pile of tofu, Robin strode past Beast Boy and poured himself a bowl of high-protein cereal with skim milk. It hadn't taken him very long to realize that Cyborg and Beast Boy would never resolve this perpetual conflict; by this point, he didn't know what would happen to the team if they did. It was something solid that they all subconsciously looked forward to, an indication of normalcy and constancy.

Starfire floated in, and, spying Robin, went directly to him and greeted him in a loud and cheerful voice. "Good morning, Robin!" she trilled. "Are you partaking of the ce-re-al? Perhaps I shall eat some also….Or perhaps I shall cook a delicacy of my planet, the felicitous—"

Robin, anticipating the lingering smells of Starfire's adventures in cooking, cut her off and advised her to stick with cereal. "Why don't you try it with some mustard?" he suggested.

"Oh, how delightful that will be!" Starfire exclaimed, levitating over to the kitchen, and pouring herself an overflowing mix of sugar cereal, milk, and generous amounts of mustard. Back at the table, she looked at her bowl fondly, before assiduously stuffing her mouth full of the rather disgusting combination, until her cheeks stuck out.

At that moment Raven joined the land of the living, her cloak pulled tight around her and her hood up. She sat across from Robin with her hands wrapped around a mug of steaming herbal tea. In all the years the Titans had been together she hadn't changed. Robin did not acknowledge her with more than a nod to indicate greeting, while Raven, for her part, did not indicate that she had slept with him the night before. A slight glance was all she spared for him, a quick one hidden under her lashes.

…

It was thus between the two every morning. Like Cyborg and Beast Boy, Raven and Robin had the same early morning communication for the past ten months, when he had first come to her.

It had been in the middle of a tough case, one that they hadn't seen the likes of since the Slade incident. As usual, Robin sunk into the case, letting it consume him. He went days without eating, breaking away from his computer screen only to shower and work out, letting out his anger in hours of weight lifting and martial arts.

Then one night, when Robin's back was knotted stiff with the late nights spent in a computer chair, when the pressure and tension of the case was at its peak, Robin came to Raven. He knocked on her door and Raven opened at once, expecting this moment. She knew he was there only to relieve his stress but she accepted him even so.

Even that first night was absolutely silent. He came in at 2.23 and left at 3.07. There were no prefatory remarks. Robin took off his clothes, folding them in a neat pile and placing them on the floor, while Raven undressed, taking equal care with her own clothes. Then Robin came to her—didn't even kiss her—but Raven felt pleasure creep through her when his hands roamed over her body. It was quick, almost painless. When it was over, Robin slept for fifteen minutes, then pulled his own clothes on and left. He thought she was asleep. She saw his every movement, admired his natural strong grace as he moved, his narrow body pale in the moonlight.

Raven was smart, and the next morning, it was as though nothing had changed within her. The knowledge of the past night hadn't seeped from the most private part of her heart to be expressed in glowing skin or sparkling eyes. Robin, too, was as casually careless in his attitude to her as he was to everybody, including her, even before.

She hadn't been expecting any declarations of love, nor did she have any to give. Of all the Titans, of course she liked Robin the best, loved him deepest at least in terms of friendship. They had always understood each other, and their physical mental bond only intensified that. Yet there was no room, no real point, to love when the two were barely seventeen.

Two days later, Robin made a break in the case, and that night, the Titans took down their most dangerous criminal since Slade. She awaited him in the dark of her room, opening it to him at precisely 1.42. That night, after Robin was finished with her, he lingered. Their conversation was whispered, breaths tickling ears.

But after that night, that first conversation, whenever Robin came he would stay and talk with her. Eventually they occasionally talked first and made love subsequently. Robin came earlier and left later. Sometimes he would even sleep with her, for an hour or two, before sneaking out. Raven was often awake at those moments, her sensitive fingers attuned to the twitching of Robin's body as he prepared to rise. She rarely let him know, though, content to watch him as he moved around her room, reclothing himself.

Later she would realize that something had grown between them. And each of them thinking that nothing would come of their midnight rendezvous had been, ultimately, an honest mistake.

III

After the battle, as after any other, the Titans celebrated at their favorite pizzeria. Robin welcomed Starfire's advances, although Raven could detect his cold detachment. Her hand resting on his arm, her green eyes locked on to him attentively—these were the pictures most often featured in the papers, the photographs photojournalists and papparazzi treasured and snapped. In the beginning, there had been photos of all the Titans, as a team; now, teen magazines often ran columns gossipping about the hottest teen hero "couple".

She wasn't jealous. Starfire didn't know about her and Robin's meetings, the ones that had been going on for almost a year. Raven knew she had a lot more with Robin than Starfire could ever hope for. She didn't feel terribly bad about, in effect, betraying Starfire and her hopes and dreams so she, Raven, could sleep with Robin.

There arose, after some time, affection. Against the covers of Raven's bed, after whispered conversations and intimate nights, it was only inevitable that an affection as soft and gentle as Raven's bedclothes would come about. After a month and a half, Robin kissed her. That first passionate manifestation was the first of many. The kiss that lasted maybe a half moment had the power to change their entire relationship. Now it wasn't just convenient sex, the natural product of two stressed teenagers of the opposite gender living in close contact with each other. That first kiss introduced a sense of intimacy to their nights.

Occasionally, there had even been passion. Those were the nights Robin kept waking Raven, asking for more; those were the nights they would rip each other's clothes off the first time. Raven never complained, acquiesced with one glance and then they were gone again, Raven lost in the power of his arms and Robin content with her soft form pressed so neatly against his.

The mutual trust was also their strongest bond. Robin chose her over any other girl because he could trust Raven to keep quiet about their affair. She didn't need the constant attention most other girls asked for. She wasn't clingy, she didn't allow their relationship to cloud into their professional life, and she didn't need to be showered with constant signs of affection. Their entire intrigue was silent at all levels.

Robin was the perfect lover for Raven. She had decided it long ago and it was how she had expected him to come to her, and why she allowed him to use her so. He understood her better than anyone else she had ever met. She could trust him with her life, and had done so many times. Unlike Beast Boy, Robin wasn't immature and still attached; unlike Cyborg, he wasn't a playboy, handling young girls' delicate hearts in his large hands until they bruised. No, Robin was for her. But she also understood that there could not ever be love in the relationship. Whatever friendship they already shared was all there would be, and though it had been eventually deepened and tinted with affection, it wasn't going to be love in the romantic sense. Not love in the feeling that bloomed between two people when they meet, like it was portrayed in all the books and movies; not love in the undying sense so favored by newly-wed couples (likely to be divorced barely two years later, Raven thought).

Some would say that it was horrible to be so close to anyone and not have love. Love, after all, is one of those few facets of human existence that are the redeeming qualities of humans. But this made it easier, for there not to be romantic love. Things were much less complicated. Robin's closeness and midnight conversations were as much a testament of attachment to Raven as would be declarations of eternal love.

Raven was interrupted by the keening of the alarm bells. She met up with the others in the team room, where Robin quickly rattled off the stats on their new case. They had just battled barely twenty-four hours ago. She knew Robin lived for leading his team and fighting criminals. She knew, thanks to their mental bond, how his heart pounded with adrenaline, how much he enjoyed the fights.

"Come on, Raven," Robin called to her, as he and the others ran toward the exit. She joined them in a moment. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy their battles, but that sometimes she simply didn't feel like fighting, and it didn't get her blood pumping like it did with Robin.

It was a narrow escape for Robin when the battle ended in their favor. Starfire ran up to him and flung her arms around his neck. He was still an inch shorter than she was. Flashbulbs went off and Starfire, ever opportunistic, seized the moment. She planted her lips on Robin's. He didn't push her off nor did he engage her in a deeper display, even while cameras clicked madly.

Raven turned away with a slight smile of satisfaction, unaware of the lone photographer who caught her as she moved. She was the only one Robin had, and ever would, kiss so passionately.

…

Robin had come to her as usual that night. Such was their trust that Starfire's attempted kiss was not even brought up. None of the other team members were ever discussed during their late-night assignations. They could talk of anything else—criminals, philosophy, books—but never any of the others.

"Good work today," Robin whispered against her ear, and that night was amazing.

A few hours later, Raven got out of bed; Robin stirred and awoke beside her. She walked over to her closet and called down the glove she had hidden a few weeks ago. She smiled as she tossed it to him. He caught it and dumped it unceremoniously on his pile of clothes. That night had been one of the few passionate ones where they ripped each other's clothes off. Then Robin gathered her back into his arms.

The next morning, the Jump City Report featured a picture of Starfire's smooch juxtaposed with an expressionless Raven. "Titan Triangle," read the headline, with the subheading, "Superheroes not immune to teenage passions."

Raven raised a single disbelieving brow as she re-read the title. "You have got to be kidding," she said. "Please tell me this is some sort of joke."

"I wish," Robin muttered back. "D'you know how gross it was to have Starfire try to switch spit with me?"

"Luckily, no," Raven said, taking a sip of her tea. She indicated the newspaper with a jut of her chin. "Don't they have actual news to be reporting?"

Robin put the paper down in disgust. "Apparently not."

Beast Boy sidled up to the two with suspicion evident in his narrowed eyes. Cyborg, obviously trying to be unseen, hid ineffectually so he could eavesdrop on the conversation. Beast Boy's suspicious green eyes flitted between the other two. "You're not…are you?" he said. He turned to Robin at his and Raven's furious head-shaking. "You'd better not, 'cuz Starfire definitely doesn't deserve it—"

"And you'd better not be playin' with Rae either," Cyborg said, in a threatening tone of voice.

After all these years together, the boys' distrust of him made Robin angry. How could they possibly think that he would commit such an indiscretion? It was one of the reasons why his relationship with Raven was so perfect—there would be no love, nothing that could possibly break up the deep friendship of the Titans. But right now, Robin didn't much feel like being friends with Cyborg and Robin.

He said as much to them. "I can't believe you guys," he said, shaking his head. He waved the paper. "I'd believe this before I could believe that you two would throw away three years of brotherhood over some woman who wrote this article." Cyborg and Beast Boy looked taken aback by his outburst but Robin didn't care. Pushing his chair back violently he strode out of the kitchen angrily in the direction of the training room.

There was a moment of absolute silence. Then Raven said to Cyborg, "That really was not slick."

…

A half-hour later, Robin was clothed in a pair of loose training pants and sweat. He had shut the door—something he couldn't remember ever doing. His anger had faded and now he was breathing heavily as he aimed yet another kick at the heavy sand bag in front of him. It swung wildly and Robin quickly executed a spinning back horse-kick.

"Robin?" came Beast Boy's probing voice through the door. "Is that you in there?"

Something flared back up in Robin at Beast Boy's question. "Who were you expecting, Santa Claus?" he said sarcastically, even as he opened the door to admit the green changeling.

"Listen, I just wanted to say sorry," Beast Boy snapped back. "I shouldn't'a thought you were messin' around with Rae and Star—"

"You can have them," Robin said cruelly.

"Listen buddy, I don't want them." Beast Boy drew himself up to his full, if meager, height. He looked at Robin squarely, his open green ones meeting only the blank whiteness of the mask. Beast Boy felt, then, disgust at Robin's cowardliness, keeping his mask on for all these years. With the cloth on, he didn't have to meet any body's eyes. "I want this team to survive as much as you do—probably more so," Beast Boy said in a low, earnest voice. Robin had never heard the other speak so seriously and the grave note caught his attention. "And I know," he continued, "I know that if we let…relationsihps…develop, then we're not gonna make it." Robin opened his mouth to reply but Beast Boy shook his head, looking at Robin as though he'd never seen the leader before.

"You, Robin," he said, "you can just walk out of here at this moment and make it wherever and however you want. Me? And Cyborg, Star, and Raven? We're all too different. Our future isn't set like yours is. You could go become a doctor, a lawyer, whatever you want—but we can only be what the world wants us to be. Don't give me a speech on how 'you can be anything you want' 'cuz that's just not the way it works."

Robin was struck speechless for one of the few times in his life. Beast Boy turned on his heel and strode out of the room, and in that moment, he was powerful, and it was Robin who was left winded. He had never thought the others felt that way about him, never thought that they had their own club to which he could not be a member because he was normal. It also disconcerted him that it was Beast Boy who walked out on him and left him disbelievingly alone, the punching bag swinging gently next to him.

…

Robin was so impatient that night that the moment he sensed everyone was in their respective rooms he bounded out and fairly ran to Raven's room. Barely waiting for her to open her door he picked her up, kissing her, and then depositing her on the bed. He made love to her with such a passion it was almost violent.

When he lay, breathing heavily, next to her, Raven looked at him. Not that she hadn't enjoyed his energy, but it was so uncharacteristic of him. When she saw his forehead knit in thought, the corners of the mask narrowed, she spoke. "What's on your mind?" she whispered.

"Something Beast Boy said really made me think," he murmured back, slowly.

"You know it's really bad when something Beast Boy says makes you think," Raven said. But when no answering chuckle came from Robin, she knew he was completely serious. She placed her hand, softly, on his arm. "Robin, tell me," she pleaded quietly. "We share a bond."

Robin flipped over so that one hip was on the bed, propping his head up with one arm. Raven rose to meet him. "I couldn't even say anything back to him," Robin said. It was at times like this, more than ever, that Raven wished he would take off his mask. Every word in any human language can be more adquately expressed through the eyes than through the mouth. If he would take off his mask then they wouldn't even need to talk, they could look at each other and understand.

"I'm supposed to be the leader of the Titans," Robin said. Raven felt like a child, unwrapping him from his shell as she would a birthday gift. First the ribbon: "I know we're a team and we're like one, and I never gave a thought to all our…differences." Then the wrapping paper: "It never mattered that you and Starfire aren't human, nor that Cyborg is a bionic, nor that Beast Boy is a changeling." Then the box, revealing the object of her efforts—the gift of Robin's confidence. " Am I alone from you all?"

In a moment Raven understood. She paused for a long moment before answering. "Yes…and no," she said finally. "You are different from us in that you are biologically human, that you can take a walk and no one would look twice at you." Robin waited. She had repeated Beast Boy's words. She looked straight into his mask. "But you're not different from us as a member of the team. We're all in this together, Robin. I've known loneliness. You're not alone." She pressed her lips gently to his and pulled back.

Raven slept curled up in Robin's arms that night.

…

The next afternoon, Robin called the Jump City Report. "You need to run a counter-story," he said, "to the front-page news the other day, about there being a love triangle in the Titans. There are no relationships amongst the Titans."

"We're sorry," the voice on the other end said through the telephone. "I'm sure it was just an honest mistake."

IV

A few weeks later, Raven had had enough. It had been a year. As Robin kissed her, undressed her, she did more than her share of the work on him.

She took off his mask.

At first she thought he hadn't noticed but his mouth stopped massaging hers, his hands stopped their ministering. Slowly, he pulled away from her—excellent, Raven thought, now she could see his eyes—but she was disappointed when she saw that they were shut.

"Raven," he said coldly, "what did you just do?"

"Did you not notice?" she returned. "I've taken off your mask."

"I know that," Robin said, "but why would you do something like that?" His eyes remained resolutely closed, even as his hands wandered in search of his mask.

Raven couldn't believe his eyes were still closed. Was this the man to whom she gave herself every night? "You can't face me?" Raven said. "I can't believe you'd be such a coward."

"I am no coward."

"You are," Raven insisted. "Bravery is more than just your ability to fight. With your mask on you can choose to see what you want to see and what you don't. You can block all the shit out—but accepting it is the ultimate sign of intelligence and bravery. With your mask on, you don't have to meet anyone's eyes." She let her words hang suspended for a half-second before she continued. "You don't have to tell anyone the truth."

"That doesn't mean I lied to you."

"But you had the possibility of it. It's cowardly to hide." She trailed her fingers down his torso. "Open your eyes, Robin. See me."

Slowly, his pale, dark-fringed lids rose to reveal different-colored eyes: the one the color of a bruised clover; the other, a color Raven could only describe as blue.

…

Raven never took her eyes off Robin as they made love. He kept his eyes open when he entered her.

…

After they were done, Robin lay, un-masked in Raven's bed.

…

It was just before she fell asleep that she realized.

Falling in love with Robin had been, at the last, an honest mistake.

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A/N: Wut up everyone? What did you all think of this story? It's probably my most mature piece of writing on this website so far. They're about 17-18 years old in this story. Sorry I couldn't help Raven's little jab at Beast Boy—I'm not his particular fan.

If the soundtrack to A Garden of Roses was the Batman Forever album, then the soundtrack/inspiration for this piece was both The Bravery's An Honest Mistake and Jay-Z's Dirt Off Your Shoulder. Yes, it may seem like an odd combination, but whatever works, right?

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.