Disclaimer: Teen Titans and its counterparts are not mine.
Written by Kryalla Orchid
Winner of an honourable mention in the RobStar First Kiss Competition.
One thing about growing old is it's supposed to be graceful. A slow process. Backs stoop, bones weaken, hearing dims, eyesight slowly fails. Lives were lived to their fullest. The world is seen, or the universe in this case. Children have been born and grown and had children of their own on which to bounce on the bony old knees. All the smiles are worn out, eyes are wrinkled with laughter and love.
Fingers which taught smaller hands to tie their shoelaces or cross the road safely are now gnarled. Elbows which bent to hug or snuggle or lift a child high, or walk daughters down the aisle now locked in place and hard to bend. Rickety knees once climbed great mountains just to see the view at the top, raced children, wrestled on the floor, now crick every time they stand.
Rocking chairs creak as they rock back and forth on the old porch at the home. Back and forward, a never-ending motion, designed to soothe and comfort the ones seated on it, only ever dimming to make a cup of tea, or fetch a blanket for tired old limbs to become warm beneath.
A stereo plays softly in the background, soft classical music. Well, only one of them can hear it now. The cost of being able to hear was his sight.
Wrinkled hands clasp together, always in contact. She can see the sunset, he can hear when the kettle is shrieking. Together they are whole.
He squeezes her hand to gain her attention and speaks, even though she can't hear it. "Hey, Rae?"
She squeezes back and he knows she's now looking at him. "Yes, Gar?"
"Our song's on the radio, do you want to dance?"
"Slow down, you talk too fast. What?"
He tries again, complete with shaky hand gestures. "You. Me. Dance?"
"No, I don't want to go to France. What's in France this time of year?"
He shakes his head, hoping she's still looking at him. "No. Do you want to dance?"
"Prance? You can still bounce in those bones? Sure, the grass could use a trim if you want to be bambi for a while."
"DANCE!" he says, loudly now. "DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?"
There's humour in her voice as she answers, "Trance, dear? I haven't meditated in years."
He laughs and she loves the freedom on his face as he does. She can't hear the chuckles but she's happy she can give him that even after all these years together.
"You know, I could really go a dance," she tells him, standing.
"Well, I don't know," he says in reply, his turn to tease. "Might be too tired. Need a nap."
"Oh, get up," she says and steals his leg blanket.
Still holding her hand, he shuffles to his feet, his back cricking in several places as he does and he doesn't care. It's two steps to the edge of the porch and three stairs down into the garden their daughter keeps for them. The smell of flowers is incredible, the grass is springy against their slippered feet.
He spins her in a slow circle before they wrap their arms around each other.
She can't hear the beat of the music, so she rests her head against his chest and feels the beat of his heart. He can't see her soft smile, but he knows its there.
They cuddle and dance and shuffle in slow circles and it is wonderful. Simple pleasures. Two lives intertwined and lived to the fullest.
It was never about growing old gracefully. He's got about as much grace as a drunken goat and she practically oozes it.
It was more about growing old together.
My utmost apologies to TheForceIsStrongWithThisOne on how late his prize is. We flipped a coin and then fumbled it and it fell down the drain (don't ask how that works over the internet) and then with Christmas and New Year and my own stories and... Epic fail on my part. Sorry! I'm so embarrassed. Wowzers.
So, there you are. A drabble about when BB and Rae are old ^_^.
Congrats on the honourable mention!