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“Dude, tell me it’s nearly done.”
Cyborg holds out his arm.
“You see that big, yellow number on the screen?”
“Yep.”
“Does it say one hundred percent?”
“No.”
“Then we’re not done, are we?”
Beast Boy groans and slumps against him.
“…nope.”
It’s one in the morning and the update still hasn’t finished. Robin had patience to spare, two hours ago – but now he’s sullen, sore, and missing the living room’s creature comforts.
The Tower is currently being scanned, from top to bottom, to improve their security systems. Only three places are exempt: the roof, the basement, and the T-Ship hangar. The hangar won by two votes, so…here the team are, sitting under their gleaming orange spaceship. Keeping out the way, for as long as it takes.
Things started well. Cyborg handed out snacks and candy; Starfire painted her nails with intricate swirls and stickers; Raven got another hundred pages into War and Peace. Now the sugar crash has hit - everyone’s batteries are flat, their patience wearing thin.
“Beast Boy,” Raven says sharply. “Cut it out.”
Beast Boy’s foot is tapping on the floor. He whines.
“I can’t help it! I’m bored!”
“Please tell me you’re not pining for the GameStation.”
He pretends to swoon.
“You mean the state-of-the-art GameStation Five? The love of my life? Of course I am!”
Robin tries to tune them out – he’s not in the mood for bickering. Yesterday’s fight with Cinderblock wounded his pride and got him nothing but a dislocated shoulder. Even after Raven’s magic, the pain is a nasty, irritating rasp.
If I’d aimed for the head when I had an opening, he berates himself for the fifth time, I’d not be in this mess.
“Ninety-five percent,” Cyborg says. Everyone sits up, moods instantly improved. “Hang in there, everyone. We’ll be out soon.”
“Wait!” Beast Boy throws his hand in the air. “Guys, why didn’t I think of it before? For our home stretch, the final game of the night should beeee…”
He performs a drumroll on his knee. “Word Association!”
Starfire, happy with anything, claps her hands in excitement. She gives Robin a nudge; it shakes him out from under his personal thundercloud.
“Robin, do you wish to be on my team?”
Sure, Robin opens his mouth to say—
“There’s no teams, Star,” Beast Boy says. “We go round in a circle. You have to connect your word to the last one, or you’re out.”
“That sounds most enjoyable!”
Beast Boy looks to the others hopefully.
“Why not?” Cyborg says with a shrug. (Raven just nods.)
“And we can always add in a time limit…” Beast Boy says, waggling his eyebrows in Robin’s direction.
Robin sighs, defeated – as if he’d ever turn down a competition. He jerks his head in a begrudging yes.
Summer is where Beast Boy starts. Cyborg answers with sun, and Raven chooses space.
“Tamaran!” Starfire says happily.
Robin grins at her.
“Planet,” he says.
When they get to Round Six, Robin’s shoulder is acting up again; his attention dips in and out. He rubs it absently, wishing the painkillers weren’t up in the kitchen.
They’re onto field. Cyborg says grass. Raven: flower. Starfire: beautiful.
“That’s an adjective, Starfire,” Raven says.
“Oh. Is that acceptable?”
Raven gives up.
“Eh, it’ll do.”
A second passes. Two.
Robin jolts out of the pain-fog. Panics – they’re waiting for him to answer.
One more second goes by. He is not going to be the first player to lose.
Damnit – beautiful, beautiful…
Nothing. He’s forgotten the whole English language.
C’mon, c’mon—
“Starfire,” he says.
A pause.
Beast Boy bursts into hysterical laughter.
“Robin, what?”
Cyborg is smirking. (Raven, unbothered, mutters something about names and grammar and inconsistent rules.)
“L-like, as a person!” Robin splutters. “A beautiful person, that’s a thing!”
(He deliberately doesn’t look at Starfire. No way is he doing that.)
“You could have said a sunset,” Cyborg teases, ticking a list off on his fingers. “Or the city lights. Or a famous building. Or the Mona Lisa. Or—”
“I know, I know!” Robin bites out, flushed red. “I…I wasn’t thinking—”
He's spared - right on cue, Cyborg’s arm flashes. The hangar shutter grinds open.
“Finally!” Beast Boy leaps to his feet. “Good game, dudes! Now we can get back to some real gaming—”
“Not yet!” Cyborg protests, following him outside. “I need to check for patch issues—”
Starfire swoops after them. Robin watches her go, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
She…didn’t wait for me.
Maybe she’s keen to get out.
Or maybe…he’s offended her?
Robin starts to pace. It’s only him and Raven left, and she’s gone back to her book.
He didn’t mean to say it. Starfire just shortcuts his brain, makes him warm and distracted and smiley. Frustrating symptoms, for a work-focused superhero - in the beginning, he'd thought they would pass, eventually purging from his body like a winter virus.
It turns out, crushes aren’t like getting sick. They feel…nice. And they stick around.
Growing up, why was he taught quantum physics and kung fu and weaponry and judo, but nothing about girls? Sure, he can grapple off a skyscraper with ease, but what about this?
Wait.
A lightbulb moment. Raven’s a girl. She can tell me.
Robin waits, more than a little impatiently, for her to finish her chapter. Then, the second her bookmark is in place:
“Raven? Can we talk?”
She arches an eyebrow.
“That sounds ominous.”
“Uh…” Robin rubs the back of his neck. “Star just…left. What I said – was that weird? D’you think she’ll be mad?”
Raven looks at him with exasperated pity. Robin imagines I Have A Crush On Starfire written across his face in neon marker.
“I doubt it. If Starfire’s angry, she makes it obvious.”
Robin sighs in relief. That is true.
“Good.”
His shoulder sears abruptly; he grips it, wincing. Raven rolls her eyes.
“You're such a boy. If you want help, ask me for it.” She points to the ground next to her. “Sit.”
(In defense of boys everywhere, Robin nearly points out that Raven isn’t famous for her kind and friendly disposition. Then decides he’d rather keep all his limbs.)
He joins her. Raven inspects the damage.
“Have you been punching things?” she says, stern. An older-sister voice, even if they’re the same age.
“No!” Robin is indignant. “No gym, no obstacle course! Just getting bored watching TV, like you said.”
“Then stop moving it so much. I perform spells, not miracles.”
A glow ignites around her hand; the ache begins to fade. After a long moment, she winds down her powers. “Done.”
“Wow.” He massages the spot. “That’s a lot better.”
Raven indicates, cat-like, that she wants her personal space back. Robin obediently shuffles further away.
“So…the beautiful thing,” she says. “Why did you do it? It’s not exactly your style.”
Robin groans, running a hand down his face. It had mostly been instinct. But...
“When she had her Transformation, Starfire didn’t like how she looked. So, I thought…” He sighs. “I thought it might help, if she’s still feeling bad. If someone told her she looks fine.”
“Robin, fine and beautiful aren’t the same thing.”
He beats her to the finish line.
“Star’s my best friend,” he says, blunt. “That’s it.”
Raven looks at him. Completely flat, not buying it.
“When Starfire ran away, you made Cyborg convert our submarine into a spaceship to find her. Don’t you think that was…extreme?”
Yes.
“No.”
“You were really worried about her.”
“Yeah, she’s my best friend.”
They glare at each other, an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object. You like her versus no I don’t, shut up.
Raven caves first, perhaps realizing she’s fighting a losing battle.
“Whatever. If you need more, the painkillers are above the sink.”
Robin gets up.
“Thanks.”
He leaves her alone.
Hopes, brain buzzing, that Starfire is still awake.
That he’s not just jabbed a sharp object into their friendship.
He doesn’t need to look far - Starfire is in the kitchen, helping herself to a family-sized bag of cheese puffs.
Oh, that’s why she came here so fast, Robin thinks in relief. She’s hungry.
“Midnight snack?”
She nods, her mouth full. Swallows.
“The pizza only filled three of my stomachs.”
That is…a unique sentence. Robin grins, used to the quirks of alien biology, and finally calms down.
Everything’s okay. We’re okay.
He heads to the cupboard. Yes - there’s the white bottle, tucked in next to the coffee.
Starfire frowns, concerned, washing orange dust off her fingers. “You still require medication?”
Robin takes two pills. He tries to sound offhand.
“Just…making sure it doesn’t get any worse.”
She dries her hands and fixes him with a very particular look - one that makes it clear he isn’t getting away with that.
“There is a saying on my world. The strongest people admit when they are weak.”
It’s the politest scolding he’s ever received. Robin gives in with a sheepish smile.
“Alright. Raven did her best, but it hurts. These take the edge off.”
They walk back to their rooms together. At her door, Starfire raises her hand to wave him goodnight.
“I wish you ple—”
“Wait. C-can I come in? For a minute?”
Starfire pauses. He wonders what’s going through her head.
“Of course.”
They sit on her bed; the door closes. She’s tidy, but there’s the odd thing out of place: a lip gloss tube, a hair tie, a bright turquoise bra. (Robin ignores that one with every drop of willpower he has.) “What is concerning you?” she says.
Robin swallows.
“What I said earlier. Did I…make you uncomfortable?”
She smiles.
“Not at all. I found it very kind.”
Like Raven said.
All the tension drains from Robin’s muscles.
“Phew! Okay, great.”
The medicine is kicking in. He’s getting woozy, lighter, his restraint blurring at the edges. It’s not an ideal state to be in, alone with Starfire in her room…
She rubs her arm. Robin watches her frown as her fingers brush what’s left of her scales. The Transformation’s effects are slow to fade – there’s even a pigmented smudge lingering on her forehead. (He’s made sure not to point that out.)
“You didn’t look bad when you had those changes,” he says softly. “I promise.”
Starfire twists a pink sheet between her fingers.
“I was hideous,” she says quietly.
“What? No, Star, c’mon—”
Her voice strains with distress.
“Robin, I had spikes coming from my neck!”
“So? What’s wrong with a few spikes?”
She shuffles forward. Significantly closer.
“You…really did not mind?”
“Nope. The pointy ears were kinda cute.” Her eyes widen in surprise. Scalding panic rockets through Robin’s body. “Not that…I-I don’t…your normal ears are—”
Starfire giggles. She’s…closer. Their knees are touching.
“Do not be concerned,” she says gently. “I understand what you mean.”
You do?
Robin has no idea where the painkillers end and his big, stupid crush begins. He lets out a weak laugh.
“Ugh, sorry. I’ve been so weird around you today.” He tugs at his collar – heat is creeping up his neck. “And now, those pills are making me feel all…”
“Relaxed?”
“More like…I could fly, or climb a mountain, or…I dunno, do crazy things. Things I’m not supposed to.”
He risks looking at her mouth. She’s wearing some sort of balm – her lips are shiny and full.
Starfire’s voice is hushed, like they’re swapping secrets.
“And would those things be…dishonest?”
“No. But I’m leader, I can’t just…” Kiss you. “Break the rules.”
Her hand touches his. A lightning-bolt jolts down Robin’s spine, leaves him dazed and tingling.
They freeze in place, sharing breath.
“We engaged in lip contact,” Starfire says, “when I first arrived on Earth. A kiss is a similar gesture, yes? I…have not done that before.”
“Me neither,” he says.
“It would be nice to…try.”
“Like an experiment.”
“Yes. With someone I trust.”
Her fingers brush along his wrist. “It would not…” Starfire begins. “Would not affect our—”
“I know,” Robin says, and kisses her.
Sparks.
Sparks, everywhere.
A discovery: lips are incredibly sensitive. Hers are soft and they move clumsily, wonderfully, with his. Robin doesn't care that they’re barely in sync, he just never wants it to stop. She even smells nice.
“Is it…supposed to feel…?” Starfire whispers.
Like fireworks?
“No idea.”
“Can we…” His lips meet hers again. “Mm—”
More kissing. Tender, serene, and totally sincere.
Starfire's hands splay on his chest, then curl to cling onto the front of his cape. At one point, their teeth clink together; she laughs, and it doesn’t ruin the mood, just makes it better. Robin stops caring about limits and lines in the sand, cups her face – and that must be the right thing to do, because she smiles. He does too, mind blissfully empty.
An eternity passes, perfectly contained.
Then at long last, they break apart.
“So…” Robin says, stunned. His mind is gone, floating out in space. “That’s what a kiss is like.”
Starfire gives a shaky nod.
“It was…very nice.”
Robin doesn't know what to think, how to think – he’s too dizzy, too numb from the shock.
Then he laughs.
“Um. I just kissed you.”
She laughs, too.
“I believe we kissed each other.”
“…Does that make it better or worse?”
He’s joking, but a flicker of fear crosses her face.
“A first kiss is a significant milestone. Was I selfish, initiating such a gesture? Did I…take something from you?”
“No, Star. Don’t worry.” Robin’s thumb strokes, soothing, over the back of her hand. That doesn’t feel taboo, not right now. “If there’s anyone I’d…”
He clears his throat. “What I mean is…I’m glad it was with you.”
Pure relief – and something deeper – simmers in her eyes.
“I feel the same.”
Robin senses it - a new texture entering their relationship. Something more, slotting in neatly next to best friends. It isn’t scary, doesn’t ruin anything. Just accompanies what they already have, walks alongside it.
Perhaps they could stay this way, comfortably caught between states. Perhaps it’s the closest to loving her he’ll ever get.
“I should get to bed,” Robin says. The atmosphere is thick, too thick, with unspoken things. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sleep well,” she says.
He looks at her for as long as he dares.
For the first time, Robin doubts his abilities. How he can stay, indefinitely, a living weapon. A hero dedicated to saving the world. Because after all his training, here he is - a jumble of messy and human emotion, willingly undone by one girl.
One very special girl.
The Tower is silent at this hour. As he walks to his room, Robin’s realizes he’s shaking with adrenaline. His hand curls around the R insignia on his chest.
He wants to be a hero. He wants to kiss Starfire again. And he can’t have them both.
Later, he dreams.
The two of them are in civilian clothes, somewhere under a cloudless sky. His dream-self tells Starfire how he feels with ease. As if he’s already said it countless times.
And in this space where such things are normal, she smiles.
As radiant, as beautiful, as the sun.