Yes, sick people like me DO exist.

Robin curled up under his sheets, uncomfortably hot, even though his fan was on high and he had kicked off his quilt much earlier on that night. He sat up in bed, sweating slightly, and cast his eyes around his room. Enough light squeezed in through the crack at the bottom of his door to illuminate his shelves and some of the things on his walls.

Slade.

Robin cursed him as the reason for his lack of sleep. He just couldn’t relax recently; it was all the stress caused by that infuriating villain with the– and Robin laughed at himself for blaming his insomnia on his enemy.

Stress and lack of sleep came with the job description, of course, but what seemed to him to be wrong was something nearly unplaceable. The light in his room seemed to fall a little bit different, the air was thicker with an astringent, though not unpleasant, scent laced through it. He shook his head to clear it.

With the full intention of getting a nice glass of warm milk, Robin swung his feet over the edge of his bed. Right before he moved to stand, however, he felt that acute prickling sensation creeping up his spine and at the back of his neck, as if he were being watched. He leapt to his feet and spun around, glaring at the empty room. The many pictures of Slade on his wall glared back. He huffed, angry with himself for being paranoid. He stepped out into the hall and headed toward the kitchen. He was surprised at first to see the kitchen’s light spilling out into the hall, and then wary. But his common sense told him to shrug it off, as it was probably Beast Boy or one of the other Titans fixing a midnight snack. Reassured, Robin padded quietly into the kitchen, prepared for yawn smattered conversation.

Damn his rationalizations to hell. Slade was sitting in Robin’s usual seat, sipping something out of his favorite coffee mug.

Fully alert now, Robin assumed his fighting stance.

At Slade’s smirk, he realized how ridiculous he must have looked in his bat patterned nightshirt.

He grit his teeth. “You!”

“Not happy to see me, Robin? I’m afraid I must say I got the wrong impression from your. . . collage.” He stood. “Who is Slade. . .” he murmured quietly. “Who indeed.” He sighed, setting the mug down on the table. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“And satisfaction brought him back,” Robin snapped. He had no wish to bandy words with the masked creep, but he did want Slade to make the first move.

Slade, however, seemed in no hurry. After a few moments of silence he stepped forward, almost glided, really, with deliberate slowness, as if approaching a timid animal. It set Robin’s teeth on edge. But despite his screaming mind, the movement soothed him, lulled him into security.

“Tell me who you are.” It was almost a whisper.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know.”

The corners of Slade’s mouth twitched. “You don’t know what you want.”

And with that, he sauntered past Robin, just close enough to brush, before he exited.

Robin dropped into the recently vacated chair, shoulder still tingling from the contact. He picked up the mug and cradled it in his hands, staring at its soft brown colour. The steam from the cup rose, twining around his face and filling his nostrils with its warm and familiar scent. He lifted it cautiously to his lips, where Slade’s had been, but did not drink.

It was probably not just coffee.

He poured it down the sink and placed the empty mug in with all the other dirty dishes. He stared at it. And it seemed to Robin that it was staring back with Slade’s eyes. Furious, he grabbed it and hurled it against the wall where it shattered. The noise was like a string of firecrackers in the silence and for an instant, he felt triumphant, but upon looking at the fragmented remains of what had been his favorite mug, the feeling left him. Robin sank down to the floor, cradling his head in his arms, sick with himself.

Moments later, the other four Titans came bounding in, still in their nightclothes.

“Dude! What happened?” Beast Boy asked, staring at the shattered bits of mug to Robin and back.

“Robin. . . your favourite mug. . .” Starfyre ventured nervously.

Robin looked at them all tiredly. “Slade was here.” The looks of surprise on their faces seemed to Robin quite suddenly hilarious. He hid his face in his hands to hide his smile.

But there was silence; they were waiting for him to explain.

Robin sighed. “I couldn’t sleep. . . so I was going to grab something to drink. I saw the kitchen light on and thought it was one of you. . . But it wasn’t. He was drinking out of my mug. No amount of washing could ever make it clean again. So I smashed it.”

“But what did he say?” Raven prompted, looking decidedly less intimidating with a stuffed panda under one arm and sleep mussed hair.

“He mentioned seeing my collage. . . So, i think he may be watching us. Everyone needs to be on their guard.”

“And that’s it?” asked Cyborg.

“Yeah. He just... left.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Raven murmured, shaking her head.

“We will not get anything done until we are rested,” Starfyre quipped cheerfully. “I propose we get a good night’s sleep and we will make plans in the morning.”

“Sounds like a plan, but I’m going to go check the locks and see if the cameras picked up anything first(1).” Raven said around a yawn.

“Alright. I’ll stay and clean up,” said Robin as he stood.

They all went willingly amidst yawns and sleepy mumbling, but Starfyre hovered near the door.

“Let me help you, Robin. I do not want you to lose more sleep than you already have,” she said quietly. “I am worried for you.”

“But—”

“Go,” she insisted.

Robin passed her. “Thank you, Starfyre.”

He returned to his room, exhausted. On his desk lay an exact replica of his mug, intact. And then realization penetrated his sleep fogged mind. He recognized that smell from earlier, the one that had woken him. It was Slade’s. And he was horrified to find it everywhere, even on his pillow. Too tired to fight it, he curled up in it and fell asleep much more quickly than he would have liked to admit.

1- Um, yeah, I sorta pulled this one out of my ass. Cameras, locks, etc. . . In my first draft, they just went to bed, and then upon reading it a few months later, I realized, hell, that’s really stupid. “Yeah, hey you guys, Slade just broke into our crib so let’s drink some wine, be groovy and go to bed!” So I tossed this in to make it a bit more feasible.

I. . . am so sick of Teen Titans reruns. And I don’t even really like the show. I just have a bit of a thing for Slade. And Robin’s all like “I hate you, Slade! angstangst” And I’m thinking, “Boy, you need to be shagged. Repeatedly and with much force.” And who better to do so than Robin’s obsession, Slade? I don’t know where I’m going with this story. I wanted to give a Robin/Slade pairing a credible background, instead of slamming out a PWP. Though I did think about it. A lot. Robin coming back to his room and finding a naked Slade in his bed. Yeah. Or, in the next chapter, Robin’s taking a shower and I thought, “This is almost too tempting. I have to resist the urge.” Lol. Hopefully I will be able to hold out and give you all a believable fic. I really wish there was more of this pairing.