Walking Home

Author's Note: So this is my first story… Whoo! I take constructive criticism, but no flames and please- be kind. So this is loosely based on Deer in the Headlights by Owl City (which I don't own). I have little references to the song planted in the story. (There's 5 or so.) Also I think the story is a bit slow!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans no matter how much Monopoly money I try to bribe the creators with.

The Old Time Tavern was not the safest or cleanest bar in Jump City. All the relatively decent establishments were fully booked, so as a starving college student, Rachel Roth couldn't be picky in the employment department. Pay wasn't the greatest and the uniforms left little to the imagination, sending the wrong idea to the more intoxicated patrons- but the drunker the men, the higher the tips. Though Rachel found it demeaning, her coworkers enjoyed working the male population out of their dollars.

Now at 11 P.M. it was quitting time. After changing into her black skinny jeans and blue sweatshirt, Rachel left the frying pan and walked into the hypothetical fire. If the bar had been unsafe, the parking lot was downright dangerous. Many customers would wait in parking lot to pounce on unsuspecting female patrons and waitresses. It had gotten so bad for others that Rachel had taken to carrying pepper spray in her bag. I was her only defense in the asphalt minefield the dwellers of suburbia called parking lots. Tonight the parking lot was only inhabited by a few smokers and some cars for sale.

Rachel briskly walked to her '64 Mustang. Old Betty was Junker, but she was reliable most of the time. As she swung herself into the seat and turned the key she got the sensation someone was watching her. Rachel peered out the window. No one was there. The blue eyed bar tender shrugged it off, and turned the key in ignition. The engine stalled out.

She tried again. 'Come on Betty!' Rachel thought hopefully.

And again. 'Don't fail me now! It is two miles home and the junkyard for you if you don't start.'

And again- no luck. 'That is it! I'm going to have Victor turn you into some cup holders for my new car! Just you wait.'

Rachel growled and slammed her head on the wheel. This was the worst possible time Old Betty had let her down and thanks to her wonderful car she'd be walking the two miles home.

Rachel got out of the car and as she was locking the car she felt like she was being watched again. The black haired bar tender put one hand on the pepper spray. Soon enough she felt a hand on her shoulder. Without a glance at the attacker's face she turned around and sprayed the spicy mist into the would-be assailant's eyes.

Garfield Logan was not an alcoholic. Yes, he frequently visited one of the dirtiest bars in Jump City, but there was a reason for his late night visits to the pub- which was the waitress and bar tender known as Rachel.

Some months ago he had wandered into the bar after a stressful day. He had been down on his luck and in no time at all he was drowning his sorrows in liquor. In his drunken state he began talking to the pretty waitress. Despite his overall pathetic-ness she continued the conversation though was rather reserved. He learned her name was Rachel; she was 23 and a student at the university in town. She helped him clean himself up, gave him some change for the bus and made sure he got on the right bus. The next time he went to the bar she hadn't recognized him and he hadn't had the nerve to talk to her sense. He didn't even know her last name.

But tonight he was going to make his move. He would wait in the parking lot till she got off work, reintroduce himself, and be the ultimate gentleman and walk her home. She would give him her number and he'd do his happy dance. It was foolproof!

He was waiting out front when she walked through the front entrance. Garfield froze. All his worries came flooding into his mind like a tidal wave.

And that's when Garfield Logan- God's "gift to women"- ran around the corner of the building like a scared little girl. He had the expression of a deer caught in the headlights as he watched her climb into her car.

'No!' Garfield thought-screamed, 'Don't let her leave; I'm going to lose my chance! Please let her car break down, or an alien invasion begin!'

His heart climbed its way into his throat and did jumping jacks as the car stalled a couple time then quit altogether. This was his chance.

'Time to work this scrawny figure for all its worth,' Garfield thought, smoothing his hair back.

He briskly walked over and tapped the Beauty to his Beast on the shoulder. He had the perfect line in his head. It would be the 'do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?' It was pure genius. The last thing he expected was the stream of spicy mist sprayed in his green eyes and a feminine shriek ringing in his ears.

Garfield dropped to the ground, clawing at his eyes, squealing loudly. Rachel stood above him calmly.

"DUDE! WHAT. THE. HECK?!" Garfield seethed from the ground in the fetal position. "Do you ALWAYS spray random guys in the parking lot or am I just lucky?!"

"Excuse me for defending myself. You could have been a rapist. You still could be for all I know. Do you have any children locked in a van somewhere?" Rachel asked in a sarcastically monotone voice.

"Oh yes totally. I'm really Pedobear in disguise" Garfield spit out acidly.

"Then you shouldn't approach someone in a parking lot like a stalker," Rachel said, kicking the curled up ball that was the green eye man for emphasis. "Now I'd wait a couple minutes before driving, because you're going to feel woozy and your eyes are going to sting like hell." With that Rachel began to turn away.

Garfield thought fast. "Don't think you can go so easy! I walked here, so your moral obligation to me is to walk with me to my 'place of residence' till I recover from the effects of your freaking mace."

Rachel huffed. "No! It is bad enough I have to walk home myself. So grow a pair and start walking."

"Well how about I walk YOU home and we can sort out the whole trying to blind me thing on the way. Oh I'm Garfield Logan. Call me Gar," Garfield said, while sticking out a hand.

Rachel looked at the hand suspiciously- a mouse considering cheese on a trap. She shook the outstretched hand tentatively. Rachel felt bad about nearly blinding the poor man. Besides he was cute in a childish way. "Rachel Roth. If you do end up walking with me try to keep up. I'm sure your incredibly girly screams will keep the thugs away." She was still talking as she walked away. Garfield followed quickly.

The blonde boy learned soon enough that walking a girl home after being pepper sprayed is difficult. He had to heavily lean on Rachel, and complained about the stinging sensation- annoying Rachel to no end. But a bright side to this was that being pepper sprayed serves as a great ice breaker. Soon the unlikely pair conversed easily- Gar talked about video games and tofu and Rachel chatted about books and the courses she was taking.

When they finally reached Rachel's house an hour later, both twenty-three year olds had fallen head over heels though neither had said anything that ventured past the friend zone. But when it came time for Rachel to step into the house Garfield froze once again. Hug or handshake? Smile or kiss? Rachel answered the question for him by sticking out a hand. Gar took it with thinly veiled disappointment.

Yet as Garfield took his hand out of Rachel's grasp a scrap of paper remained. 7 numbers and a smiley face was all that was written. Garfield screamed "Yes!" and broke into his happy dance- an odd mix of shuffling, disco and the sprinkler. He was dancing in the driveway, oblivious to a blushing Rachel standing inside looking through the window.

Who knew you could be a deer in the headlights, and still get the girl? But that's just that's the way it goes.