AN: I could get started on my chapter fic that I've been planning for weeks now, OR I could do what I know I actually want to do and just write pointless fluff.

These are the internal wars I fight everyday. Clearly I'm losing this battle. Send backup immediately.

This is part one of two.

By now, it's less a matter of either of them being shy and more a matter of both of them being stubborn.

It's been a month (thirty days! thirty entire segments of twenty-four hours!) since they've started dating, and there has still yet to be any 'gesture to seal the deal,' as it were. No zoom-in, a wallet devoid of Yankee dimes, and certainly not a soul on first base. That is to say, Beast Boy and Raven have yet to kiss, and both parties are suffering for it.

On Beast Boy's front, it started as him trying to be patient and respectful of Raven's boundaries. He understood when they both agreed to this arrangement that they aren't exactly the most traditional of couples, and he knew that the nature of Raven's personality and powers would largely set the pace for their progress as far as intimacy goes. That was fine with him. He wasn't in any rush to go anywhere, and for the first few weeks, he was simply stunned to actually be dating Raven, of all people. He imagined what his younger self's reaction would be had he been told he'd end up with the moody empath, and he enjoyed a private laugh at the thought.

But that was then, and this is a month later, and he's starting to get anxious now. He's been the one to initiate most of their cuddling, hugs, and affectionate words, and while that's all good and well, he'd really like to see Raven step out of her shell and give some solid proof that she's invested in this relationship, rather than just reacting accordingly to his endeavors. After all, why should he have to be the one to instigate everything?

Raven, for all of her emotional intuition, is completely oblivious to his feelings of insecurity. Dating and the tangled mess of emotions that come with it are making it difficult for her to really get decent readings on herself, let alone her significant other, and she's busy focusing on not messing things up, anyway. Complication aside, she truly is enjoying this arrangement. More than she ever thought she would, really. She'll never say it out loud, but Beast Boy is funny and cute, and she's mature enough by now to bask in his optimism rather than be repelled by it. But aside from her brief stint with Malchior and a few casual outings with Goth and Jericho, she's never exactly been anyone's girlfriend before, and when she thinks about how badly a certain geomancer screwed Beast Boy over, it makes her want even more desperately to be a decent beau.

That being said, however, she's still not the most outwardly tender or expressive girl—nearly a polar opposite to Starfire's overbearing embraces and endless words of praise—and she's content with waiting to see what Beast Boy tries next and responding as well as she can. So about a month in, when he still hasn't pushed his flirtation beyond the borders of friendly touching, she worries. As far as she can tell, she hasn't done anything wrong or strange to prevent such an advance, so what's stopping him? She would ask, but frankly, it's an embarrassing topic for her. If he—and she knows Beast Boy thrives off attention, both verbal and physical—still hasn't shown an interest in locking lips, then it's either too soon or there's a good reason. So maybe she just needs to wait a little longer. Not that she's in any rush.

Sure, there's been moments where it almost seemed like they were going to. Noses bump and breaths intermingle and they both get this weird, glazed look in their eyes, but neither moves forward, so nothing ever happens.

At the end of their second week of being together, for example, Beast Boy declared that they were finally going out on a 'real date.' For all intents and purposes, they had considered themselves 'dating' from the point of their flustered confessions onward, but they'd yet to do anything truly stereotypical of a courting couple. So he dragged Raven out on the moped he'd finally saved up for (despite her offer to teleport them instead) to an obscure bookstore at the edge of the city, and they sat back to back in an aisle with a lengthy novel and a few new issues of Adolescent Greek Deities,respectively, until an employee got irritated and told them to either buy the books or leave. Beast Boy paid for the both of them and pulled an unattractive face at the employee as they left. Raven laughed in her own quiet way, telling him "what a charmer" he was as they stepped out of the building and into the cool night air.

Neither seemed to remember joining hands, but both became aware of their intertwined fingers at the same time. They met each others' eyes with mild surprise, as if this were the first time it really hit them how much they had changed in the last several years. Raven still remembers the scrawny bundle of energy that was so rambunctious and eager to please, covering up insurmountable layers of hurt with jokes and a careful smile. Beast Boy still remembers the ghost-like girl who always seemed prepared to disintegrate into the shadows and never come out again, all the while wielding a sharp wit and biting sarcasm that never betrayed the terrible things she thought she was doomed to do.

No one was around, and the stars were clearer there at the edge of the city, the bookstore nothing more than a nightlight across the black parking lot. They faced each other again, smiling in a companionable, if not slightly awkward, silence; it seemed like the perfect moment. Beast Boy strongly considered it—he really did—but Raven's perfume was just a little too potent for his sensitive nose, and he feared that if he got any closer to her, his eyes would water, and crying was basically at the bottom of his list of things that he wanted to have happen on a date. Raven regarded him with a curious, searching expression but did nothing, and that only dissuaded him further. Finally, he dispelled the tension with:

"So wanna see if any ice cream places are open at this hour?"

That was just one of several instances where the moment seemed right, yet one thought or another prevented lip-to-lip contact. Neither moving forward, nothing ever happening.

And the longer nothing happens, the more frustrated both become.

Everyone drinks alcohol on Raven's 21st birthday except Raven. Robin's cajoled into permitting even the barely underage Beast Boy to partake in the revelry by the logic that he'll be 21 soon, and they were all contained within the safety of their tower anyway. The Titans East were alerted to their activities before they became too unruly, so as to serve as almost a "designated driver" team for Jump City should any villains break loose. It's already nine by the time they crack open the spirits, though, and usually the city is quiet at night.

Raven's accustomed to her team turning her birthday into a bigger deal than it needs to be by now. Robin's still keeping his a secret, Starfire can't quite figure out how hers translates over into a specific earth date so it's more like a birthweek than a birthday, and Beast Boy's never brought his up for some undetermined reason, which leaves Raven and Cyborg's as days for cake-induced merriment. Raven has a feeling that they go all out so as to celebrate vicariously through her and the metal man, and once she understood that, she stopped being so resistant to their over-the-top shenanigans.

The group watches with unabated fascination as Starfire manages to down her third shot of vodka and still remain completely sober. "When will I begin to feel the 'tipsy'?" she asks with perfect clarity, nursing a freshly poured glass of wine as if it were water. "I fear my multiple stomaches are delaying this process."

"Man, do Tamaranians even drink?" Beast Boy articulates, only stumbling over the word 'Tamaranian' slightly. Unable to get past the strong tastes of wine and beer, he's been sipping at fruity things all evening, and their mild flavor has tricked him into drinking a little more than is probably wise. He's yet to realize this and continues to refill his glass.

"Of course," she confirms between dainty sips. "Drinking is quite the social event on Tamaran. We partake in the fermented juices of zorka berries, which make a flavorful but very powerful drink. If this," she gestures offhandedly to the beverage pile that's collected on the ottoman serving as a table between their couches, "is an earthling's idea of strong alcohol, I suspect it is best that you never sample zorka wine."

Cyborg had a similar problem to Starfire, his robot half hindering the inebriation process a bit, but a few more beers are helping things along quite nicely. "Maybe we should jus' give her a bottle of disinfectant alcohol," he says, laughing a little more than necessary.

Robin's red in the face, but he's trying to be careful about not overshooting his limit. That, however, doesn't stop him from being less discreet than usual about touching Starfire. "Not a good idea…" he mumbles, stroking the small of his girlfriend's back. "Might be indi—indigestible stuff mixed in there…"

"I think you'd be hard pressed to find something that Starfire couldn't digest," Raven remarks dryly, but her mouth quirks at the sight of her team. The boys are too drunk to notice that she's taking a bit of amusement from watching them out of their reservations. Getting drunk is pointless to her, maybe, but there's something intimate about this setting. Sitting together and trusting each other enough to voluntarily imbibe things that might cause foolish or uninhibited behavior… This isn't the reckless, rebellious binge of irresponsible children, but an act of bonding for best friends. And she can appreciate that aspect of it.

Plus, Robin is sniffing Starfire's hair and telling her that she smells like kittens, and damn if that isn't at least a little bit funny.

Her amusement drains away pretty quickly once Beast Boy's hand snakes its way around her shoulders, though. The others know that they're dating, but both have been pretty adamant about keeping displays of affection limited to the privacy of closed doors and empty rooms; part of that is motivated by a desire to stay out of the tabloids (especially after seeing how out of control it got when Starfire and Robin first started going out), part is to avoid teasing from the guys and doting encouragement from Starfire, and part is simply their preference for inconspicuousness. The fact that he's completely throwing that repression out the window without a second thought puts her on edge.

But really, it's just a side hug. Cyborg gives her those sometimes too, so she doesn't know why it's making her feel so unnerved. She blames it on the bitter scent of alcohol lingering in the air and tries to go back to chuckling at Starfire's fifth—sixth?—swig of vodka finally getting her a little silly, but his damned hand keeps traveling. Nowhere salacious, but it's still distracting. When did he take his gloves off, anyway…?

Starfire hiccups and puts her glass down. "I do not wish to experience a… hanging over? in the morning, so I will stop now."

"Good idea," Raven nods while Cyborg and Robin, on the other hand, chatter back and forth about who's man enough to chug one last beer. The former ends as the predictable victor, but the latter is too dazed to have foreseen such an outcome, and he swears sleepily between his final sips.

"Robin, please, such vulgarities are… unbecoming of you," Starfire insists, hiccuping again and muttering an embarrassed apology in Tamaranian to no one in particular. Alien or not, Raven's in awe of how sober the girl still seems to be.

Robin mumbles nonsense in response, fading fast. Starfire just giggles and hoists him into her arms with ease. "I believe it's time for us to assault the hay. Happiest of birthdays to you, friend Raven, and pleasant dreams." Buzzed and balancing a boy wonder in her grip all the while, Starfire leans over to plant a platonic kiss on Raven's cheek. Their leader utters something that sounds suspiciously like, "Good brthday nihght…" before his girlfriend flies him lazily down the hall.

"Yeeeaaah, I think I'd better shut down for the night too," Cyborg slurs, rubbing his human eye carefully with a large, metal hand. "I'm… …Yeah. Hang on, my train of thought keeps leavin' without me…"

Raven snorts and smiles fondly at the man. "Just go to bed, Cyborg."

After another moment of chasing down imaginary trains, Cyborg shakes his head and manages, "Right. Happy birf—birthday, Rae. Love ya," kissing the top of her head and disappearing down the hall as well.

Alone, Raven again becomes hyperaware of the young man who's almost plastered to her side by now. He's been so quiet, she almost thought that he fell asleep, but a quick glance reveals that he's very much awake. He turns to face her, folding his arms sloppily and glaring like a slighted child.

"What?" she questions, imitating his grouchy posture.

"Don'… don' like other dudes kissing you."

"Starfire's a girl, and Cyborg's practically my sibling. What's the big deal?" She honestly fails to see the problem, but perhaps trying to drill logic into a guy under the influence is a vain endeavor.

"Whatever… Don't like it…" he reiterates more clearly, as if she's the one who's inebriated, and his condescendence irritates her enough to almost break her monotone.

"If you're so jealous, then maybe you should act on these things instead of sulking about them for weeks. That's your issue. Not Starfire's, not Cyborg's, and not mine." She feels guilty as soon as the words have left her mouth because it does apply to her in some capacity as well. She should have breached the topic when it first started bothering her. But he's drunk, and it's late, and probably neither of them will remember this conversation in the morning anyway.

…That's her logic, anyway, before he catches her off guard and by the lips.

Her first thought pops into her head against her will ('Finally'), and her second thought is, 'Alright, he tastes like banana daiquiri.' The thought of pushing him off doesn't occur to her at all until he swings a leg over her lap so that he is almost sitting on her, though balancing himself carefully on his knees. His wobbly leverage reminds her that his behavior is most likely being fueled by a mixture of intoxication and drowsiness, which isn't what she wanted at all. She murmurs a few weak protests whenever her mouth is free, but he makes a point of keeping that timeframe sparse.

It's hard to focus. The whole situation feels bizarre and not at all like how she thinks it should, almost like it's happening to someone else and she's just watching it happen, yet at the same time, every action is very much her own. She hates herself for tangling her fingers in his hair like a stupid, lovestruck middle schooler, for enjoying his warmth and closeness, even if his actions are messy.

This is stupid. She's stupid. She could easily phase through the floor or levitate him away long enough for her to leave or any other number of things. Hell, she could probably physically overpower him right now; his hands are shaking even as they clasp around her cheeks, and she's no pushover. She doesn't want this, but she can't bring herself to stop it, either. After all, isn't it what she's been waiting for, even if not quite like this?

They're going to regret it if things progress, she realizes all at once, finding the willpower to finally take him by the shoulders and push him back. "Garfield, stop," she commands, this time with genuine conviction. The fact that she never uses his real name sobers him up enough for him to nod sleepily.

"Okay," he sighs, returning to his seat at her side. Raven stays there on the couch with him until he falls asleep, and then she carefully extracts herself to teleport to her room, feeling out of sorts and strangely disappointed. She wants to clarify the details of what just happened, but she knows it should wait until morning.

AN: I have this phobia of writing any actual romance beyond pecks on the cheek and affectionate cuddling. Wanted to see if I could get over it.

Nope, still embarrassing. (I tried dot png)

That being said, this is actually a… prequel of sorts to another thing I'm writing. But that one will be… M rated… if all goes according to plan, lmao. Not sure if I should add it onto this one and just bump up the rating, or just make it a separate piece. Hrm…

Also, I know nothing about alcohol. Or its strength or taste or anything. So I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies.

Anyway, hope you were able to enjoy this! As I said, this is chapter one of two. The next part is already planned out, but I'd love to hear what you think so far.