(A/N) This is just a short little one-shot in which one Titan is home sick and another is trying not to be annoyed by him.


What I'd Wish For

"Raven?" he asked, only vaguely aware that they were alone. He didn't mind being in her company, but he usually preferred the presence of the entire Titans family. The others had already left for their night out, planning on having pizza and going to karaoke night and having a grand old time, and he was sorely wishing he could be with them. The foggy feeling in his head and unpleasant aching in his stomach reminded him of why he couldn't go with them, though.

"What?" she responded without raising her eyes from the book she was buried in, irritation creeping into her voice at being interrupted.

He sighed, wondering why she was the way she was. She could've gone with the others, but she decided to stay, saying she didn't need junk food and loud music blasting in her ears for her to feel happy. She would rather stay home with a mug of jasmine tea and a book in her hands. That would describe a perfect day for her, in fact. He never quite understood it, but he had come a long way from when they first met and no longer judged her for it. She was just… different.

"If you could wish for anything, what would it be?"

He wasn't sure why it was that question that came to mind, nor was he sure why he felt so inclined to ask her it. It was a question he pondered often, however. It was one of those little questions that could make a person start to really think. It nagged at him very often, never seeming to truly go away. And so, in response to this nagging thought, he had asked the question to nearly all the Titans, all except for the violet-haired empath who was sitting on the other end of the sofa trying to read her book while sipping at her steaming cup of tea. Something told him she didn't much care for the question.

"Why are you asking such a dumb question?" she asked, her monotone beginning to show her annoyance. "We cannot get what we want through wishing, so why bother?"

"Jeez, Rae. First you say I'm dumb because I don't ask questions, then you say it's dumb to ask the questions," he said with a light laugh, but she was having none of it. "It's hypothetical, Raven, and yes, I do know what hypothetical means, in case you had any doubts."

"What's your point?" she shot back at him, now clearly miffed by his attitude. "What's the point of the question?"

"It's food for thought. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Makes you stop and take a look at what you've got, and what you really need and want, not just trivial things," he said, talking in such a way that made him feel actually smart. He didn't usually feel smart around Raven. She always found a way to make him feel dumb, even if it wasn't on purpose, and he couldn't help but snicker at the thought.

"It seems as though you've put some thought into this yourself," she commented, looking back down at her book while he rolled his eyes at her impatience.

"Not all questions are meant to get results," he told her, to which she groaned in annoyance. "C'mon Raven, you know I'm right," he teased her with a smirk on his face, catching her eyes flicker up for an instant. If she was amused, though, she did a good job of hiding it.

"I'll give this one to you, Beast Boy," she said.

He smiled, before a wave of nausea hit him, and the next thing he knew he was hunched over his bucket, retching whatever contents remained in his stomach from the many other times that night he'd thrown up. After the spasms in his stomach subsided, he got up from his spot on the couch to go clean out the bucket again, as well as rinse out his mouth. He was surprised that there was anything left to come up, given that he hadn't eaten since the day before and had only managed a few sips of water. Even the water came back up after more than a sip or two.

Coming out of the bathroom in his room, he walked by a couple of his shelves, then found himself stopping to stare at what he was about to walk right on by. Now, his entire room was on any given day somewhere between a pigsty and a garbage dump. The entire place was covered with rotting food or clothes laying around, so much stuff in fact that there were very few spots one could still see the rug. There was only one place in his room that he kept meticulously clean, and he would be damned if it were any other way. The shelves held the things most important to him. There was his old Doom Patrol mask laying beside photos of him with his adoptive parents, Steve and Rita, or otherwise known as Mento and Elasti-girl. There were pictures of Larry and Cliff, too, as well as pictures of them all together. He had placed a few gifts given to him by the Titans on past birthdays on the shelves, and then there were the plain old knickknacks he had placed at random points on the shelves.

There was one thing, though, that really caught his eyes as he walked by. He smiled as he picked up the photo, his eyes glinting with light as the sounds of laughter floated towards him in his memories. He didn't remember the exact day or moment the picture was taken, but he didn't need to. He knew with a kind of surety that he'd been laughing and smiling with joy on the day it was taken, just like every other day he was with them. It was a picture of himself, as a young child, standing in front of his parents in a family picture. His mother's hands were draped on his left shoulder, and his father's on his right. His hand subconsciously went up to his shoulders, swearing he actually felt their touch.

The picture was taken within the jungles of their African home, before the accident that caused him to gain his powers. In the photo, he wasn't green, he was normal. He had olive skin and blue eyes and blond hair, the spitting image of his father.

He took this photo in his hand and walked back to the couch, never taking his eyes from the picture until he was sitting down again. When he looked up, he saw that Raven was no longer in her spot on the sofa, and his eyes scanned the room, searching for her. It didn't take long to locate her, as she was a mere twenty feet away, moving throughout the kitchen with a mug of steaming liquid in one hand, as well as a cup of water in the other hand.

"You should drink," she said, handing him the water after he managed to get his blanket wrapped around himself again.

"Ugh, anything I take in just comes right back up," he said with a groan, but not turning away the water.

"Well, you won't be getting better if you need to go on an IV for dehydration," she said.

He smiled at her. "Thanks," he said simply, taking in a few sips of the cool liquid. At least it took the taste out of his mouth, but it only intensified the nausea in his stomach. "I hope this passes soon."

"Mm-hmm," she replied, already back in her spot, reading.

"Wait a second, you never answered my question," he said, a grin growing on his face as the realization hit him. She just gave him a slightly confused glance. "If you could wish for anything, what would it be?" he clarified.

She sighed. "Why do you feel the need to keep that going?" she asked in a clearly annoyed voice.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe it's because I haven't figured it out yet," he replied.

"And do you think I'm going to help you think of the answer or something?" she asked in a skeptical voice.

"Actually, yes. When I talk about things, it's easier for me to think, kind of like it's easier for you to think when it's quiet," he said, then widened his eyes for a second. He didn't know he knew that about her, that that was the reason she loved the silence.

Apparently, she was surprised as well, but it only showed for a second. She regained her composure speedily, as if she'd never lost it. "Well, if you know that that's the reason I like silence, then why don't you give me some peace?"

"Oh no, you have to answer my question first," he said, continuing to pry.

She rolled her eyes, obviously realizing this would continue until she gave him an answer. "Fine," she said with a sigh, then went quiet as she gave the question some thought. "I don't know, really. I wouldn't want to change my life, because I'm happy with the way it is. I suppose, if I could wish for anything, that I'd wish for things to be like this… forever."

He smiled, and her eyes flickered to him for a moment before shying away. She no longer had that superior look in her eyes. Instead, they were on the same level. He noticed a light blush on her cheeks, but decided not to comment on it. He still smiled, though.

"That's a good wish," he said, looking at her and waiting to see if she'd look up at him. She did, and this time her gaze did not flicker away. "That's a really good wish."

She cleared her throat. "What about you?" she asked, with a new sincerity to her voice, showing that she actually cared this time about what he thought.

His smile became sad, and he looked down at the picture, still in his hands. He got up from his place on the couch and walked up to where she sat, sitting down beside her. He noticed how, for a split second, her cheeks flushed red. He looked at the photo of himself with his parents, then handed it to her.

"This. I'd wish for them, to see them again," he told her, looking up from the picture to her face. She clearly hadn't been prepared for this, because her expression displayed shock.

She looked up at him, showing one of her rare smiles. It was just as sad as his, and that was when he realized he had moved his hand closer to hers, so that they were touching. He looked down at their two hands, and another realization hit him: neither of them were making any moves to pull apart.

He smiled. "Are we having a moment here?" he asked with his usual boyish charm.

She smirked at him. "Nice try. Back to the other end of the couch with you, you're still sick," she said, suppressing a smile as she pointed back to his place on the other side of the sofa.

"And the moment's gone," he said, moving away from her, but he glanced back and couldn't resist giving her a wink. He smirked at the blush that crept onto her cheeks. "No it's not."


(A/N) I don't know where this came from, but I'm glad it came.