#robraeweekend

Intruder! Tower Main Entrance... Intruder!

Dick bolted upright like a Pavlovian response. Without warning, the room blazed with light, shining red, white, and yellow straight into his face. It was blindingly bright as his computer began to flash incessantly with the same alert.

Intruder! Tower Main Entrance... Intruder!

Something had tripped the Tower's silent alarm. Or maybe even someone. Dick felt an odd excitement stirring in his bones. Surely, he could take care of this one on his own. There was no need to even wake the team. If he were to be completely honest, he longed for danger and the thrill that accompanied it. It was the only thing that could make him feel alive anymore. A leader shouldn’t open himself up to constant risk. But this was different. It wasn't as if he had gone out to seek it this time. So Vic couldn't tell him he was being reckless when it had come to him directly.

Who could fault him for defending the Tower?

He molded with the shadows as he propelled forward, cutting around corners and bending behind archways. He tried not to think about what or whom he was channeling as he crept along. Sleepless nights and overwork meant that Dick had lost a little muscle mass, but he hadn't lost a step. He was silent and stealthy as ever. 

At last, he saw it: A silhouette of an intruder gliding through the west entryway to the Operations Room of the Tower. Were they trying to get in using the cover of darkness? Well, they were in for it now. Trespassing was enough of a pretense. His lip curled into a sneer as he approached deadly and dangerous. 

"Don't. Move."

The figure froze.

"You have exactly ten seconds to explain who the hell you are, and what the hell you're doing here." He paused. There was still no answer, just more dead air. "Staying silent? Bad move. Whoever you are, you better start talking—now." 

His escrima sticks cast crackling spotlights in the dark. They oscillated with blue electricity as he approached—far less cautiously than he should. The shroud leapt backward. And the umbras seemed to move with it, like a squid hovering above the ocean floor, using ink clouds of its own making for cover. Something was eerily familiar about it all. He tried to shake the feeling that he recognized the way this shadowy figure was moving.

But it couldn't be. 

He'd dreamt about it enough times. But… There was just no way.

"Fine." He widened his stance, the escrima sticks moving like electric nun-chucks. Though his body's rhythm was languid, it was seamless. Second nature. But mercy wasn’t anymore. "Don't say I didn't warn you—"

"Wait!" The hoarse voice was insistent. "It's me." The cyan pulses outlined an outstretched hand and a pale visage, widened eyes. That face... Her face. "Please, don't."

The weapons clattered to the floor with a resounding clang.

An ebony brow creased in confusion. He gazed blankly, struck dumb, as a petite girl walked into the moonbeams and electronic sea of dotted blues and greens. It was her standing in the entrance. It was her in a tiny black sweater and baggy low rise jeans. Really her, like no time had passed at all. She took a single step, letting the duffel bag slip off her shoulder to land in a noisy heap on the ground.

He fell out of his fighting stance—he was powerless against her. She had overtaken him completely without drawing her magic or a fist.

"Raven."

"Dick, I—" Her voice was barely audible. "I thought... No one would be awake—at this hour..." But he was. Dick's eyes were growing wider and wider. "Hi..."

"Raven," he repeated, dumbly. He knew nothing else but her name. Because it was her. All he could think of was the fact that it was her.

"I'm sorry I didn't call first," Raven croaked. She swallowed, blinking quickly. "Maybe I shouldn't have come... I can go—"

"You're not going anywhere." Dick's voice rumbled low and threatening. Suddenly, he rushed forward again. Then, he grabbed her. Not to apprehend her, but to hold her, to bring her into a full and tight embrace. Lifting her off the ground, cradling her to his chest. Threading his fingers through her hair. Touching her. Breathing her in as deeply as he could. "Raven, you came back." There was a river of emotions rushing and Raven was quickly swept away as the flood poured through the cracks in the dam of their bond to break free. Her legs shook until they gave out. And she closed her eyes and let him hold her and hold her up.

"You're back—you came back."

"Yes," Raven whispered. "I did—I am."

"You came back to me," Dick said, almost questioningly. He brushed the longer locks out of her eyes as he searched them. They were different. Her hair was different. 

It didn't matter. Not just this second. Not ever. Not when he'd soon be able to open her up and search her at his leisure. He registered this briefly before his mind went blank and he crushed his mouth hard into hers. She melted into him, so he could drink her up, after drinking her in.

Dick was unrestrained, claiming her lips furiously, holding her so tightly, his hands fumbling all over her body. He just needed to feel her. Make sure she was really real. Really there before him. Gods, she tasted so damn good. And she felt just like he remembered.

Perhaps a bit thinner, but he didn't care. It was her all the same.

"Dick. Dick, what are we doing—" She whispered on each erratic breath falling between their lips. 

But she knew what they were doing. And what she was doing to him. She let out a squeak of surprise as he pushed into her mouth. He hissed when her tongue pressed back against his. It was so hard and hot, their teeth clashed before they had to breathe. 

"I missed you." Her words tumbled out clumsily. Drunkenly. But she couldn't fight it. "I did."

"Gods, Raven." He grunted in approval, tucking her lip between his. Dick sighed. "I really was losing my mind. A moment ago, I thought you weren't real." Each day had been more painful than the last. "I just...missed you so much."

Dick didn't know Raven could house such desires. Before Garth, he'd never seen Raven unabashedly wanting before. Not for the last box of chamomile teabags on the shelf at the market, let alone another being. And for someone to bring that out of her... Someone that wasn't him. Well, it still made his blood boil just on principle. Even if the only wide blue expanse her nude body now graced were her sheets.

"It doesn't matter," Dick growled. He was done stewing over the past; he intended to make full use of the present. He was sure in his haste he wasn't making much sense tonight, but that didn't stop him. "I don't want anyone flirting with you and I don't want you flirting with anyone else either."

"Why is that?" Raven teased.

He wasn't sure she was taking it seriously, but he couldn't help it. "I don't want you to," Dick repeated. "And I don't think you want to."

"That's presumptuous of you," She quipped. "There was something about the way he filled out a black and blue unitard that sent me completely off the rails..." Raven was driving him mad. He was certain she was enjoying herself more than a little.

But, Garth. That...that...

That nautical knockoff.

"A black and blue unitard?"

"Yep." Raven folded her arms.

"Something as ubiquitous as black and blue spandex is really all it takes to get under your cloak?"

"And a head of impossibly black hair—probably product enhanced. A winning, photo-op ready smile. Throw in a box of brooding, a forkful of familial issues, and a splash of almost unreasonable moral obligations..." She shrugged and for once he couldn't tell where the sarcasm ended and she began.

But it was her cauldron and Raven's recipe was to be imbibed at her leisure.

"You make us all sound like action figures," Dick scoffed in mock outrage. 

"It could start to sound that way, yes," she said casually. "But when you boil it down..." She shrugged as if her point was made.

"Is that all we are to you, Raven? Is that all I am?"

"If the painted on briefs fit." She stifled a snort. "Or bat briefs in your case."

He couldn't tell if she was serious or not, or just toying with him. But he liked it. He wanted to prove himself to her. He was better. He was the original black-haired, blue-unitarded man in her life, after all.

"Raven, I don't know what you're trying to do to me, but I have to admit it's working."

"Oh? Do you like being told you're a product?" Her lips parted wider than needed on the last syllable, so he could just make out her tongue touching the roof of her mouth. And Dick shivered at the memory of what that tongue could do.

He snatched her hand and steered it to his chest, particularly glad he'd spent more time on upper-body this morning. "What else do you think I am?" No longer guided by his own, her touch trickled down to his abs. "Tell me."

"I think, you're..." But with her fingers on his impeccably toned stomach, she was finding it hard to say anything at all. "You're so full of hot air, it's a wonder you need a grappling hook. You could probably just glide over to the next rooftop."

"You think so?" he mused. "Well, I happen to crave an extended session with a rather gifted healer." He bit his lip at the double entendre. "One with a very soothing touch, who's extremely easy on the eyes." Dick's blue gaze shifted over her figure. "Maybe I might have to try it one of these days, see if I stick the landing."

"Pity," she swallowed. "I guess then the Titan's Most Charming Smile Award will go to someone more deserving this year. At long last."

A wide smirk spread across his face. "This smile?" He chuckled. Dick's fingers feathered her wrist and with a swift singular motion, he tugged her closer so he could speak low in her ear. "How about I prove to you once and for all that it's good for something?"