Right Hand Green
"That's it, man! I can't take it anymore!"
The Titans barely glanced over as Beastboy shifted back to human form and slid off the treadmill, gasping for air with his hands on his knees. His outburst was nothing out of the ordinary.
"Where's Robin anyway? Why do we have to bust our butts and he doesn't?" the green teen cried, demanding attention from his teammates.
"Robin has his own training schedule, you know that," Raven reminded him in her husky monotone, not even bothering to open her eyes as she floated cross-legged across the gym.
"That doesn't mean he gets to dictate ours!" Beastboy continued to whine.
"He doesn't dictate mine," Raven informed him emotionlessly, finally looking at him, her concentration disturbed. Beastboy would have been offended by her tone if she'd had one.
"Or mine," offered Cyborg from beneath a hydraulic press that reached almost to the ceiling.
"Nor indeed mine," agreed Starfire, levitating in the centre of her ring of targets.
"What? It's just me?" exploded the youngest of the group, before pouting fiercely, his pointed ears dipping.
"Well, he knows you wouldn't do it if he didn't make you. You'd just pig out on the couch all day watching horror movies and playing video games," Cyborg replied, going back to hefting the huge weight back up in another rep.
"I would not," Beastboy sulked, crossing his arms in a huff.
"Yes, you would. Besides, what do you know about physical training? You'd just hurt yourself if Robin didn't tell you what to do," Raven said.
"That's not true..." the boy said, but looking around him, he wasn't so sure he would have been able to come up with his own work-out plan after all. But he would have liked it if his teammates had a little more faith in him, instead of always seeing him as the goof-off, failure of the team all the time.
"What's not true?" The automatic doors slid open and Robin walked in, his arms full of wires and cables and multicoloured plastic.
"Nothing," Beastboy said quickly before any of the others could embarrass him.
"Beastboy was getting bored on the treadmill again," Cyborg informed their leader.
"I was not!" he objected, but they ignored him.
Robin carried his load over to the big computer that coordinated all the different systems and training programmes in the gym. He lay all the plastic on the floor and began connecting cables and plugs.
"Well, maybe he'd like a go on this. It's a training program designed to improve speed, reflexes, accuracy, co-ordination, flexibility... Everything, really." Robin stood up and looked over his shoulder at Beastboy, whose curiosity and desire to redeem himself brought him over.
"Dude... Is that electric Twister?" the boy asked, staring down at four differently-coloured rows of dots.
Robin's eyes narrowed. "No, it's a training program. One of the circles will light up, and you have to hit it before the next one. There are various difficulty levels that allow you to change how many circles light up at once, and how long you have to hit them before the next ones come on."
"You crossed DDR with Twister, admit it," Beastboy persisted, grinning stupidly at his leader. He liked Twister. He could get excited about this type of training.
"No... Look, if you stand these extra sensory pads at the sides and in front, then it can simulate combat situations in which you have to fight multiple opponents at close range, without room to manoeuvre." Robin quickly set up the box-shaped unit to demonstrate, but Beastboy was still looking annoyingly smug.
"Four-dimensional Twister. It's been done," said the green teen.
"It's not Twister! It's a training program!"
"Hey, it's okay, we can play Twister if you want, it doesn't have to be training, training, training all the time. You look like you need to loosen up anyway," Beastboy said jokingly, as he did everything, but on the inside he did sincerely wish that Robin could just act like a teenager sometimes, and not always like the world was going to end. He was a great leader, but he didn't have to be that all the time. Beastboy wanted him to have enjoy himself every once in a while.
"I do not need to loosen up," Robin replied testily.
Their bickering was disturbing the other Titans. Raven sighed loudly and dropped out of her lotus-position, walking out of the room announcing "I'm going to meditate in my room."
Cyborg watched her go then wandered over to inspect Robin's new invention for himself, and maybe settle the debate. Robin and Beastboy looked up at him, awaiting his verdict. Cyborg looked it over carefully, from this angle and that, before finally saying, "I don't know, man... Looks like Twister to me."
Robin made a sound of frustration. "You're not getting it, I'll show you," he said, stepping into the machine. He programmed it using a small control fitted in the place of one of the coloured dots. There were two short beeps followed by a long one signalling the beginning of the routine, and Robin assumed his fighting stance, fists up, feet apart, knees bent. Then the dots began lighting up. At an uneven pace, Robin had to punch, kick, elbow and stomp on the disks surrounding him. As always, Beastboy was impressed and a little scared by his leader's determination and skill. He hit every single target, moving so fluidly that it was almost as if he could predict where the next one was going to be. He kept it up for about twenty seconds, after which he judged that he'd given enough of a demonstration to enlighten his teammates.
"Computer, end program," he said, and the box powered down. Robin turned to face Beastboy and Cyborg. He wasn't even out of breath. "See? That wasn't Twister."
Starfire zoomed over and clapped enthusiastically, "Oh, Robin, what a wondrous invention! It looks enjoyable, may I also be permitted to experience a 'go'?" she trilled.
Robin looked startled, and reflexively put his arms out a little to protect the machine. "Uh, actually Star, this is still just a prototype, I'm not sure if it can... withstand Tamaranian enthusiasm. It needs testing," he explained.
Starfire looked disappointed. "Oh, okay... I understand..." she said and drifted away. "I will go and see if Raven would perhaps like to partake of the 'Girl Talk' with me," she said, the automatic doors swallowing her into the corridor. Robin watched her go for a second longer than necessary, and Beastboy wondered if he was aware that the 'girl talk' Starfire had mentioned was about him nine times out of ten. He figured the older boy must have known – he seemed to know everything.
"Anywa~ay," Beastboy chimed, bringing the attention back to himself. "That was all very nice, but if we do this..." He stepped forward and programmed the system with new parameters, something many years of gaming made fairly straightforward for him. The three bips sounded, and now one dot lit up at a time, after an interval of about five seconds. Beastboy looked smug. "Twister," he declared. Robin narrowed his eyes, his mask following the contours of his face.
Cyborg moved towards the big computer. "Way ahead of you, B," he said, beginning to type in commands. "If we reset the random number generator to select from four pre-programmed phrases..." He stood back triumphantly, and the computer announced in its robotic drone,
"Hey, good idea, Cy!" Beastboy called triumphantly.
"And now I just need to synchronise the computer with the game's system..."
"It's not a game!" complained Robin.
"Right hand," spoke the computer, and a blue dot at Beastboy's feet lit up, making the boy laugh.
"Face it, dude. You invented Twister. Wanna play? Though I should warn you, I am King at Twister," he said jovially, confident that he'd won the argument.
Robin scowled at him, folding his arms defiantly. "Alright. But if I win, you have to admit that it's a training program, and you have to go through it for an hour every day for a month," he challenged.
"Fine, and if I win, you have to admit that it's a game, and it gets moved to the living room upstairs, and you have to play whenever I want for three months," Beastboy accepted.
"Deal," Robin said with gritted teeth and a crooked smirk. "Cyborg, restart the program."
"Alright, but don't kill each other. Remember it's just a game."
"I'll go first," Beastboy said as the two boys faced each other inside the three-walled box, and when the computer commanded "Right hand," he defiantly placed it on the illuminated yellow dot beside Robin.
They heard Cyborg's hydraulic press start up as the eldest Titan went back to his work out. Their game progressed easily enough at first, they even got bored enough to start showing off, going for more difficult positions than were necessary, but it all just fired up their competitiveness even more. Robin was a fierce competitor by nature, being driven to succeed all his life. He hated losing, and he wasn't about to be banned from using his new invention for training when it could be so beneficial. Beastboy, on the other hand, was determined not to be the loser of the group again, he was going to prove that he was as capable as any of the others, even as capable as Robin. That, and he hated exercising, and he really didn't want an extra hour a day in this thing.
Eventually they heard Cyborg's press powering down, and he appeared at the open side of the machine. He looked down at where Robin had both hands planted on two yellow circles, one foot on red, and the other leg extending up the nearest wall to get his foot on the top blue. Beastboy meanwhile was standing facing the opposite wall, one hand on blue, the other on a bottom green, one foot standing on blue, and the other leg bent behind him to get to a middle red.
"Well, have fun guys, I'm done for the day," he said.
"Bye," they grunted, concentrating too hard on the placement of their next limb. Cyborg walked away, and they heard the automatic door close behind him. Beastboy suddenly became aware of how quiet it was. They weren't talking, and without the rhythmic hiss of Cyborg doing reps with the hydraulics, there was just the computer unfeelingly barking out commands at ten second intervals.
"Eh-heh, so..." he began with a nervous laugh.
"So?" Robin replied, shifting to fit the computers new command.
"Errrr... You wanna hear a joke?" Beastboy asked as he hit the next dot.
"That depends. Is it actually a joke, or is it something you made up?"
"Hey!" Beastboy protested with a whine and a pout.
Robin thought maybe he was being unnecessarily harsh, especially since it looked like he was going to be in very close quarters with his little green teammate for the foreseeable future, and he did generally like the other boy. He was just letting his competitiveness get the better of him.
"Go on then," he corrected himself, inviting Beastboy to tell his joke as he moved again.
"What's green and lives in the jungle?"
Robin thought about it as he finally got into a standing position. "I don't know. You?"
Beastboy giggled while Robin hadn't thought he'd said anything funny. "Good one! No, it's Tarzan of the Grapes! Get it?" he gushed in his raspy, high-pitched, still-childish voice, pleased with himself.
"Yeah, I get it. Tarzan of the Grapes, ha ha."
Beastboy was now standing with his back to the wall, his right hand on a blue disk beside him, and his left hand on a green on the other side. His right foot was planted on blue and his left bridged the small box by going for the green on the opposite wall. Robin was standing one foot on red and the other on yellow, his left hand next to Beastboy's head on blue, his right hand on the opposite wall, yellow.
"You wanna hear another one?" the green teen continued excitedly.
"Um, maybe later..." Robin suggested, not particularly looking forward to an unending chain of Beastboy's classics.
"Left hand." snapped the computer, and Robin looked for the lit-up pad, finding it on the other side of Beastboy's head, a green one. He dutifully moved his hand, but as the silence returned between them, they both felt how awkward the position was. Robin had Beastboy caged against the wall and was having to stand quite close to do it.
"Um..." Beastboy murmured nervously, trying to alleviate the silence and the tension. He turned his face away from Robin's. "Do you, er, know any jokes?"
"Er..." Not really. Robin didn't really know any jokes - he hadn't had a very comedic life - but he couldn't tell Beastboy that. How pathetic would he look then? He didn't know even one joke?
"What do you call two superheroes who got run over by a steamroller?" he said in the end. It was possibly his least favourite joke in the world, but it was the only one he could think of with Beastboy's cheeks slowly turning a darker shade of green in front of his face and his big green eyes looking at him so expectantly.
"I don't know," Beastboy replied quietly.
The command came so suddenly that Beastboy jumped and laughed nervously, moving his foot down from the other wall and onto the glowing green dot on the floor.
"That's better," he said, now that his leg wasn't almost touching Robin. That would be embarrassing. "What was the answer?" he asked, looking at Robin again.
"Flatman and Ribbon," Robin replied in a low, deadpan voice, too busy watching Beastboy pinned against the wall between his hands to really put any emotion into it. He hated that joke anyway.
Beastboy's ear twitched and then he got the joke and laughed, his mouth opening and exposing his pointy little inhuman canines in quite a charming way, but most importantly his eyes squeezed shut as he laughed, and Robin felt like there'd been a sudden gust of oxygen into the little box. Why? He hadn't been holding his breath, had he?
"I used to get that one a lot," Robin said with a small smile of his own as he watched Beastboy laugh.
"What was it like-?"
Robin looked around for his next target, but it took a second for him to find it. It was a yellow one. Between Beastboy's legs.
The boys looked at it, then at each other.
"If you don't want to continue-" Robin began awkwardly.
"Yeah, maybe we should-" Beastboy started to agree.
"You can just quit and-"
"Hey! I am not losing to you," Beastboy insisted, fired up again. He shifted his legs further apart an inch or two in invitation. He was not going to lose this. Robin could quit if he wanted to, but Beastboy was prepared to do whatever it took. Robin looked at his face, well aware his time was running out.
"It's up to you," he said and, with the forced appearance on uncaring, stooped and planted his hand firmly on the disk between Beastboy's legs. Not surprisingly, the awkward silence returned between them, and Beastboy broke first again.
"Oh yeah, I was gonna ask you, what was it like working with, you know, the big guy?"
Robin had been afraid that that stupid joke would invite this topic of conversation, a topic that he really didn't like.
"It's behind me," he said, hoping Beastboy would understand the dismissal for what it was and drop the subject.
"Oh, right... Sorry, I shouldn't have asked, I know you don't like to talk about it-"
"It's not that I don't like to talk about it-"
"I was just being nosy again-"
"It's not like it was bad-"
They were talking over each other again. It wasn't until the computer interrupted that they stopped, and the embarrassing position they were in began to disintegrate. They were silent for the next couple of moves, Beastboy not daring to open his mouth again, and they steadily got turned around until their backs were to each other.
Then, to his surprise, Robin spoke first. "When I came to Jump City, it was to get out of his shadow."
Beastboy didn't quite know what to say to that. "I think you've done a good job. I mean, I don't know him, but I know you, and I think you're-"
Beastboy cut himself off before it was too late. What was he going to say? That he thought Robin was cool? A hero? He thought all those things but they weren't things you could just say to another guy. He shouldn't let himself get carried away just because he couldn't see Robin's face to embarrass him. There was a long pause in the conversation.
Beastboy wasn't sure he'd heard it, but he wasn't going to ask Robin to repeat himself. This was clearly some big male-bonding moment, and it would be against the Bro-code to draw attention to it. They continued to move around the box.
"I remember when I first came to Jump City," Beastboy said, reminiscing on his old self. He remembered how he'd felt when he'd realised that he was talking to the Robin. So excited, awed even, honoured. Beastboy knew a kid like him was just a sidekick, but Robin was the ultimate sidekick, the sidekick all sidekick's wanted to be like. Then he'd got to know him and he realised that he was so much more than a sidekick. He'd left the Doom Patrol of his own free will, and he'd come to Jump City to try making it on his own, because he'd still wanted to help people, but he was just a kid and he was scared and lonely. Beastboy was happiest as a sidekick, when somebody else did all the heavy thinking and all he had to do was follow orders. He was a helper. The Teen Titans had seemed like the perfect family, already there and waiting for him, and they didn't know each other yet so he wouldn't be the new guy.
"It's not that long ago," Robin replied.
"Yeah, I guess... It just feels like a long time."
Robin gave a single short laugh, probably thinking about everything that had happened since they'd first met. "Yeah," he agreed wistfully. "Why did you leave the Doom Patrol, anyway?"
"Oh... That. I guess I was just a bit... too young, you know... I wasn't ready for that. I was still learning to use my powers, and they wanted me to be able to do all this... Anyway, I couldn't take the pressure I guess," Beastboy explained, then suddenly changed his mind to stop defending them. "No, that wasn't it. They made me feel like I wasn't good enough. That's why I left."
There was a pause as they had to shift around some more.
"And the Teen Titans?" Robin asked.
"The Teen Titans don't make me feel that way. In fact, I think that's how we all felt when we first met," Beastboy replied, contorting his body for one particular target.
"Is that why you were so eager to make us a team?" Robin pursued.
"No, that was probably because of you. I mean, if I could get Robin to take me on, wow, that would be..."
Oops. He'd done it. He'd broken the Bro-code. He hadn't been able to stop himself in time and he'd gone and said something seriously uncool and now this box was going to get awkward.
The silence came back for a second but it didn't have a chance to settle.
"Yeah, I remember what you were like. Calling me 'Sir', and saluting all the time, with that goofy mask-"
"My mask was cool," Beastboy moped quietly, and Robin laughed.
"I remember thinking, who is this guy?" Their eyes met accidentally and held. "This little green kid who can turn into animals. Wow." Beastboy looked away, embarrassed. "I came to Jump City determined to make a name for myself, and almost immediately, there's this kid, ruining all my plans," Robin continued in a light-hearted, reminiscent tone, but Beastboy flinched. Had he really ruined Robin's plans?
"And this kid wants to follow me, team up with a bunch of strangers, the exact opposite of what I wanted." Beastboy flinched again. "I remember thinking, I can't look after these people. But we made it. We've done alright."
Beastboy was standing, his feet straddling the width of the box, with his hands on the wall beside him. Robin was hunched over at his feet.
"You don't regret it, do you?" Beastboy asked, insecure from what Robin had said.
His leader looked up at him to answer.
Robin looked over his shoulder and found the glowing pad his hand was to go to. "No, of course I don't regret it. I've seen a real-live dinosaur because of you. What you can do is amazing. I wouldn't trade the Teen Titans for anything," he answered.
That only made Beastboy feel a little better, and he didn't say anything back.
"Left hand." Bestboy went into a crouch facing Robin.
"Hey Robin, can I ask you something?"
"Left hand." Robin was now forced into a crab-like, bridge position.
"What's your real name?"
Robin stiffened. Telling Beastboy his real name would be giving away his secret identity, and giving away his secret identity was against the rules. Bruce had taught his that. Rule Number One. And it wasn't as if his name was John Smith or something - type Dick Grayson into Google and you'd be able to find out exactly who he was. If your identity was exposed, all your enemies would be able to find you, and find the people you love, and hurt them. Hurt them to get to you or just for the sake of it, depending how sick they were. Granted, everyone he loved connected to the name Dick Grayson was already dead, but if Robin was exposed as Dick Grayson, then the man who took in Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, could be deduced to be Batman.
But this was only Beastboy asking. If he found out Batman's identity, it was doubtful that he would do anything with the information.
"Why do you want to know now?" Robin asked cagily.
"I just figured, you know, since you know my real name," Beastboy replied.
Robin's face split into a large, crooked grin. "Garfield," he said, making Beastboy scowl at him. There was something about saying that name that always made him smile. It was a funny name. Beastboy, on the other hand, always experienced an uncomfortable shiver whenever his leader said it.
"Right hand." Beastboy moved his hand to Robin's side.
"Yeah. Cyborg told me his real name, and I know stuff already about Raven and Starfire, but I don't know anything about you, so... I thought..."
It was a legitimate concern. Robin knew that none of his teammates knew anything about his personal life, whereas he knew almost everything about them, something he knew they weren't aware of. He knew all about the disease Beastboy had caught in Africa and the makeshift cure his parents had given him that had given the boy his powers. However, Robin also knew that Beastboy didn't like to talk about Africa or his parents, was almost as reticent about it as Robin was about Batman. Robin knew researching his teammates was the sensible thing to do, but he also suspected how much it would hurt them if they found out, so having secret files on his friends made him feel a little...
He must have been living with Bruce for too long, but that didn't make it any easier to start sharing now.
"You don't have to tell me your name if you don't want to," Beastboy said, starting to get nervous when Robin didn't say anything. They were also uncomfortably close, physically, with Beastboy leaning over Robin the way he was. "You could just tell me something else like... where you grew up, what your parents did for a living... what colour your eyes are..." the green teen trailed off hopefully.
But to Robin, all those things were unacceptable. Where he grew up? The circus, too much of a give-away. What his parents did? Ditto. The colour of his eyes?... There was no reason why he couldn't tell the younger boy that. It didn't relate to his identity at all. But he didn't want to tell him. He always wore his mask, and he wasn't going to take it off now, but if he didn't, there would be no way for Beastboy to know if what he was saying was true. Robin knew the younger boy would believe whatever Robin told him, but there was something wrong about that. He didn't want to make the boy believe a lie, but he didn't want to tell him the truth either.
Their position just got worse. He supposed in a space that small, it was inevitable. Robin was still trapped, supporting himself on all fours with his chest up, but now Beastboy was leaning over him, a hand on either side, his face level to Robin's chest. Neither of them could move. Robin's joints and muscles were burning, but he wasn't confident that he had the strength anymore to move without falling, and he couldn't quite judge how far from the ground he was. If he lowered his hips, he might accidentally touch the ground, and lose.
As for Beastboy, his arms just weren't long enough to keep his face more than a couple of inches from the red fabric, damp with sweat, of Robin's chest. His feet barely had any purchase on the smooth plastic, so there was no hope there. He couldn't even turn his head without his nose brushing Robin's chest, which happened a couple of times as he tried to find a less embarrassing position. And frankly, being this close to Robin was starting to get to him. The heat coming off his leader's body, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his heartbeat – it was probably his animal side reacting, his heightened senses making everything worse but oh boy.
And the smell. Robin smelled like clean sweat, hair gel, fabric softener, the food he'd eaten that day (including, unfortunately, the faint, dead carcass smell of the meat he'd had for lunch), everything he'd touched as well, sawdust from the punching bag, grease from the garage... Beastboy could read his entire day just from his scent, but there was also that thing beneath it all that was just Robin, hot flesh and blood, and it was going straight to Beastboy's head. He wondered why the smell of another male wasn't producing fight responses, he should be getting aggressive, but he wasn't. It must have been because Robin was so familiar that he smelled so... nice. His scent was all over the tower - of course he would smell like safety and warmth and companionship. Beastboy had had reactions to the smells of over people before, God knows Slade's metal and aftershave smell always made his hackles rise, and sometimes the girls smelled particularly attractive to him, but he couldn't escape this. His nose was as good as buried against Robin and every breath he took was of him. He'd cursed his nose on other occasions, like in the heat of summer when everything bad smells worse, but while this seemed like a perfect example for it, he didn't actually mind so much. Robin's scent was very welcoming, and it was a fight to keep his head from falling those last couple of inches onto the boy's chest.
Robin shifted uncomfortably. "Beastboy, you smell," he said.
"I was on the treadmill, what do you want? Besides, you don't have my nose, you can't complain."
Robin was suffering too. Beastboy was warm, like hot, and it was all concentrated on his abdomen and between his legs where Beastboy was crouched. Not to mention that every time the green boy moved it created this tiny, little... friction. And he was doing it every couple of seconds until Robin just wanted to scream at him to either fall or move properly. But he was afraid of what 'moving properly' might entail, probably Beastboy moving further up his body, which would just bring them closer together, both face-wise and... below. If he raised his head to look at the younger boy, he could see the dark green flush on his cheeks, and the slight tilt of his pointy nose towards his chest, instead of away from it.
A wave of pain from his muscles made him grimace and he threw back his head and grit his teeth, his breath coming in harsh pants. But it was his turn next, he just had to wait another couple of seconds.
Beastboy was looking at him in concern. "Hey man, you can give up if it hurts too much, I won't hold you to the bet," he said. Robin shook his head. He'd had worse than this.
With a huge effort, he threw his hand onto the yellow circle on the wall to his right, finally twisting his body out of being bent over backwards. This was still a difficult position, but it was better. It made things harder for Beastboy though, who was almost being pushed up off the two targets his hands were on, just his fingertips managing to reach.
"Um, is that your... birdarang?" the green teen suddenly asked in a mumble.
"Is what my birdarang?" Robin replied, in pain and annoyed.
Robin was wearing his utility belt, let Beastboy think what he would.
The computer gave them several more moves, but they only grew more entangled.
"Well, this is the game the ties you up in knots!" Beastboy joked when he could no longer tell where, in proportion to himself, Robin's head was.
"Except this isn't Twister!"
"Robin! Look at us, this is totally Twister!"
They were now both very sweaty, hurt, tired and thirsty, and they were beginning to understand that the computer would never stop giving them commands, that they could be playing well into the night until one of them collapsed from exhaustion. Neither of them wanted the other to hurt themselves over this.
"You wanna call it a draw?" Beastboy panted, carefully sliding his leg over Robin to reach his target on the other wall.
"Yeah. Bet's off. This thing can stay here, I don't have to use it against my will," Beastboy clarified.
"And it's a training program."
"Okay, okay, it is a training program that can be used for Twister. This hurts too much to be a game," Robin compromised.
"Agreed. So, on the count of three, game over?"
"One, two," Robin counted, "Three."
They collapsed into a pile with a communal groan of relief. Robin was on his back, Beastboy had landed on his chest, and neither of them had the energy to move. They simply lay there, gasping, waiting for their pulses to return to normal. The computer kept giving orders but they ignored it. Robin looked to the window.
"It's dark already. We must have been doing that for hours," he said.
Beastboy merely murmured in reply, his muscles felt like jelly. He was almost asleep. His eyes were closed and his nose was turned into the join of Robin's shoulder and neck. The older boy was surprisingly comfortable to lie on, and Robin didn't mind Beastboy's weight, or the heat that was pouring off him. He was sweaty already so who cared?
Robin thought back to when Beastboy had asked him to share some personal information, and he'd avoided answering. That wasn't right. It might have been exactly what Bruce would have done, but the whole point of moving away from Gotham was that he didn't want to end up like Bruce. What he'd done, it wasn't what a friend did, and a friend was all Beastboy had asked Robin to be.
"Beastboy?" he said quietly, suspecting that the boy's deep, even breathing meant he had actually fallen asleep on him.
"Hmm?" was the half-aware reply, the boy stirring against him. Robin smiled in spite of himself - looked like he'd done a better job with the goofy little green kid than he thought he could.
"When I was a kid, I really wanted a pet dog to play with because I didn't really have many friends, but my parents said no because we moved around a lot. You can know that about me... Beastboy?"
There was a soft, light snore.
Robin smiled again. They could lie there a little while longer. But he'd be damned if he was carrying him to bed.