Title: A Wrinkled Green Bandage
Summary: It's an early Christmas morning, and Beast Boy just hopes that maybe this holiday he'll get exactly what he wants. One-sided Robin/Beast Boy. Drabble-one-shot.
A/N: Okay... well, this is the traded-drabble that Cid told me to write. The rules for the drabble were: Has to include Robin/Beast Boy (which is such an under-represented couple Xo. There's only like sixty fanfics that apply to R/BB, any genre, any rating, etc.); has to have a mug of black coffee and a bandage mentioned somewhere.
Well... this is the result. -cringes- Cid tells me her drabble had obscure symbolism in hers, but I think mine's worse than obscure... -.- It's practically choked out. Enjoy nonetheless. -attempt at smile-
A Wrinkled Green Bandage – A drabble - by Aia
It was early for him. Long hours before anyone threw off tangled covers and pressed wobbly feet to the cold floor.
But something about the day made him want to stay awake and lie very still in his bed. He looked at the close ceiling, imagined the flat white surface as the waters around the Tower, cold and substantial.
While a smile glistered and widened his complacent face, he held his hand out in front of him, looking up, and imagined it was someone else's.
Robin's hand was a captured snapshot in his mind, the small green bandage curling at the corner of his thumb. Beast Boy remembered Robin's exact words.
"It's just a scrape," he had said. "Cyborg and I were sparring in last-minute practice and I grazed my hand against some rocks." He'd shrugged it off. "Starfire made me put on a bandage."
In spite of the outer indifference, his roughly-cut hand was well-tended and lovingly appreciated. Cringing, Beast Boy noted that this was Robin's way of acceptance—of giving Starfire the amorous answer she wanted to hear.
Despite this, he had simply grinned.
"It must've hurt like woah. Did she kiss it too?" Beast Boy had asked, joking. Within earshot, Cyborg had laughed conspiratorially.
Robin had been quick to deny it, letting the green glove slide back over his scraped fingers to manage a smile.
This Beast Boy remembered. And not just because it had happened yesterday.
- - - - -
His red alarm clock didn't ring that early morning, and for simple reasons. Beast Boy let himself roll to the edge of the bunk bed and glanced at the digital numbers. For an instant, he thought they read 1:43. But then, looking closer, he realized his mistake of a blurred seven for a one and let a slanted grin emerge across his face. One-forty-three would be more accurate for his routine awakening on custom days.
Rolling back to stare at the white ceiling, he thought how funny it was that today wasn't a customary day. It was that day, in early winter, when children woke up early to watch cotton snowflakes fall at their windowsills and open carefully-wrapped presents, shout and laugh with delight.
Beast Boy would revel in that too, later—when his ecstatic youth would joke about Raven's constant readings, the funny clothes of wool Starfire might dig up to keep them warm in the dead of winter, Cyborg's remote-control-searching, Robin's drink of coffee over a hectic breakfast. The mug of black coffee crossed Beast Boy's mind as he imagined the last, fragmented scene. He traced the mug into the ceiling with his eyes.
But now, in this moment when sleep was warm snow—soft and closely grazing his cheeks—Beast Boy was pleasantly hidden. He was drowsy and sluggish, his eyes lidded, heavy and laden.
He knew that in a few hours he would throw the tangled sheets away from his body, would press wobbly feet to a cold floor. In four other rooms, four other bodies would do the same. Under one other tree, dozens of other presents would lie.
Beast Boy just hoped, that upon that one present—for him—would lie someone's acceptance. Would lie a wrinkled, green bandage.
A/N: The lines aren't working again, so I had to include the bold and capitalization, as well as the weird separation in the middle. T.T I hope it shows up...