They say you can't really get under someone's skin unless you're married. I wonder if that's really true.

Everyday is organized chaos. We fight, we eat, we sleep. Work and play, everyday. Everyday I can rely on one thing. Beast Boy. He always gets under my skin, and I don't know how he does it. He can just push my buttons some days and get me riled up so bad, something are on the verge of breaking. No one gets me hot and bothered as much and as fast as that boy.

I'm trying to read. The main point of that sentence would be, I'm trying to read. He is behind me somewhere, the source of a steady tapping. The noise is driving me up the wall along with all the random objects bumping against the ceiling. One of the many remotes in our position is high above me, encased in black magic. The cheap plastic is slowly cracking under the increasing pressure, as I swear that incessant tapping sounds closer and closer as the seconds tick by.

I glance sideways.

"Beast Boy."

He hmmm's his answer, tilting his head to the side to look at me. His arms are spread on the back of the couch. His back well curved with a slouch. With his ankle resting on his knee he looks extremely relaxed.

Tap, tap, tap.


Tap, tap, tap.

His finger…

Tap, tap, tap.

Won't stop!


"Stop what?" he asks smoothly. His eyes sweep over my face, my hands, then to my feet, looking for the telltale signs of my irritation. Clenched jaw. White knuckles. I have a habit of pointing my toes when I'm frustrated as well.

"You know what." I manage to grind out between my teeth. He does this regularly like a game. He'll see if he can make me snap, while I see if I can make him give out. So far, neither of us has won. Our heroic duties always seem to get in the way /stop me from homicide.

I could swear he just scooted closer.

And closer still.

But I'm really trying to not pay attention. I flip the page I'm reading with a dry rustle. I really should get new books. You can only read the book of Azar so many times before even the queen of creepy gets bored. But this book is filled with useful information . . . maybe there's something for paralization.

"I know what, what?" That's all it takes. That ridiculous tapping and his entire demeanor and then the irritating sound of his voice that actually sounds like he's getting some insane satisfaction out of this ordeal. I could just hang him from the ceiling and watch as he taps away at nothing-

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tap, tap, thunk.

My fingers drop my book to trap his at the same time that his free hand comes to cup the side of my face. For one fiery drawn out moment we just look at each other, and then he's there. He's kissing me and kissing me at the corners of my mouth and full on the lips until I finally realize what I should be doing and kiss him back.

The fingers of his I had trapped don't seem so menacing now as he laces them through my own. His other hand slips around my waist and pulls me tight against him. I'm losing myself in these wonderful sensations and the fact that it's him and on he's everywhere again. His lips on my jaw are sliding lower until he's at my neck. Kissing and nipping and kissing again, and oh, I know he's leaving marks but I don't care, I just want him to do that again.

He's at my mouth now. Leaving small kisses that are making me lean forward for more. This time it's my hand that comes up, driving our mouths closer. I open my mouth because I want to taste him good for a solid week over the watery taste of my tea. I'm drawn to him without my own knowledge, pressed against him tightly, but it's still not close enough. So I lean back on the couch and drag him with me until I can fell his own heartbeat and we tumble, hidden by the back of the couch, for no one to see.

They say you can't really get under someone's skin unless you're married. I wonder if that's really true.

Beast Boy is the only one on the team that can get under my skin you see. That day was a fine example. But if that was nothing compared to a married couple, well… some days I sit back and wonder how good it would feel to be Mrs. Garfield Logan.

Alright so there you have it. A story. Of mine. Posted. It's not like i have anything better to do. I'm sick. Blah. You got it. The whole nine yards of the running nose and the sore throat and the hacking cough, and i think i actually came close to coughing up my spleen.

Story wise, i'm right in the middle of a Naruto fic for my good friend Garaa-o-Sands Birthday. He wrote one for me, so it just seems fit. But i have writers block. Oh well. sigh

You know what else seems fit? That the only way Raven and Beast Boy got together was when she was trying to kill him.

Yay for hot chicken soup.