Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans.

Needed a quick break from Before The West Coast

Just some Raven / Robin interaction. Could be slightly flush-ish? No real plot here… Just me experimenting.


Nine Days Old

By: Chi Yagami


The soft humming was growing louder. The kitchen light was off, but she didn't need it. She could probably make her tea in the dark. She could probably do anything in the dark, he thought. The humming was becoming louder still, and so he turned the corner to see why she hadn't poured her tea yet. Ah. She was reading, probably too engrossed in her book to even be aware of her surroundings. It was amazing the amount of noise she could tune out when reading. Even Beast Boy and Cyborg's video game marathons had yet to disturb her (at least, with a book in her hand). And so, being the gentleman he was, Robin made to ready her tea with the hopes of catching her off guard.

But the water had already been poured from the pot into a small teapot, and Raven was steadily swirling a small bag around in one of her favorite mugs.

"I must be losing my touch," he grumbled, sitting across from her and rifling though yesterday's newspaper.

Her eyebrows rose slightly. "Maybe you never had it to begin with."

"Ha ha, Rae. Very funny." Robin stopped rummaging through the paper and went over to the cabinets to fetch a mug. He could feel her eyes following him as he retrieved the milk from the fridge, poured a glass, and put the mug in the microwave. The line of her mouth twitched almost unnoticeably (he was sure that, had it been anyone else, they would have missed it), and, after he had set the time and heat, he faced her expression with one of his own.

"What? Is the milk expired or something? Because I checked the date."

She took a long sip of her steaming tea before answering. Keeping her expression vague, she replied, "No, it hasn't expired."

"Well?" he prompted, taking his now warm milk from the microwave and returning to his seat opposite her.

"You're going to drink that?" she asked seriously, giving a nod at his mug.

Robin stared at her, clearly at a loss as to what she was trying to get at. She merely stared back and watched him raise the glass to his lips. When he saw her eyes widen, he simply drowned the glass in one gulp and went back for another.

"Do you have a problem with the milk, Raven?"

"No," came the monotone response. "I have no issues with the milk whatsoever. I am, however, somewhat disturbed that you are going back for a second glass."

"Why?" he asked, placing the mug once again in the microwave and punching the corresponding buttons that would heat his drink to the desired temperature.

"You really enjoy that?" she questioned, watching him drink his warmed milk. He sipped it slowly this time, his full attention on her reaction as he licked his lips in satisfaction.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"It isn't that you shouldn't… I am just surprised that you are drinking it."

"Is that all?"

"Yes," she stated impatiently, growing tired of his short answers. She felt like he was smirking at her, his eyes gleaming behind the whites of his mask. "That is all."

"I don't know why you find it surprising; a lot of people drink warm milk," he shrugged, sitting once more. "You've never heard of drinking milk warm?" He watched as she poured herself another cup of tea and drank quietly, savoring the taste. Robin made a mental note to find out what brand of tea she drank.

"I have heard of it… at bedtime. I thought warm milk was supposed to help you fall asleep?"

"It does," he agreed, finishing his mug. "But some people just like the taste. Some people like their milk hot."

"And some like it cold."

"'And some like it in the pot, nine days old,'" he finished, smiling at her. Raven stood and walked over to the sink, taking her cup and his. He followed her hands as they turned on the water and began to wash the dishes.

"Who would drink milk that has been out for a week?"

Robin looked up from the obituary section, momentarily at a loss. Then, replaying her question in his mind, a smile broke across his face again as he laughed openly. "It's a children's rhyme."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You know…" he started. When she didn't acknowledge the poem, his face fell. "You don't know 'Pease Porridge Hot'?"

"Should I?" she retorted. "I didn't exactly grow up here, Robin. Azarath did not teach 'children's rhymes.'"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Well, the rhyme goes:

Pease porridge hot, Pease porridge cold; Pease porridge in the pot, nine days old. Some like it hot, some like it cold; and some like it in the pot, nine days old.

Some people think it is meant to relate to the downfall of Lady Jane Grey, a former queen of England."

"What does the British head figure have to do with Pease porridge?"

"The Lady Jane Grey was only queen for nine days before her successor took the throne."

"And Pease porridge is…?"

Robin laughed at her obvious distaste. She frowned and crossed her arms, opening her mouth to say something.

"What's Pease porridge? I hope it isn't meat!"

The two birds turned as Beast Boy and Cyborg came into the kitchen, finished with their morning Mega-Monkeys battle and their stomachs fresh with hunger.

"It's not," their leader explained. "It is… well, it's kind of like oatmeal… a porridge made from peas…"

"Eww! That porridge sounds gross!" the changeling said in disgust.

"Who's eating porridge?" Cyborg asked, trying to beat his companion to the refrigerator. "Rae, are you starting some new weird diet?"

She unfolded her arms and faced her cybernetic teammate completely. "Since when have I ever been on a diet? And stop with the nickname."

"Come on, Rae-Rae," Beast Boy argued as he waited for Cyborg to move. "Everyone knows you're on a diet! All you eat is tea and crackers…"

"You have the observational skills of a two-year-old," she concluded, taking her book and leaving the room, aware of Robin's eyes on her back the entire time.

"Sounds like the porridge disagreed with her."