robin_raven | Promptfic (Week 3: Alone in the Training Room)

Getting caught up, getting caught up - Please excuse the cracktasticalness XD I was EXTREMELY bored when the server went down at work today.

Title: Role Play
Rating: PG
Series: Animated Series
Prompt: Theme: Alone in the Training Room from this week
Summary: It's not her fault. Really it isn't.

Role Play

By Kysra

It’s not her fault. Not really, because no matter what anyone else says, she’s not psychic. How was she supposed to know he would be behind the door?

Okay, so that doesn’t explain anything because 1. She did know his schedule and 2. Their doors don’t fling open, they slide into the wall with a mechanical hiss; but the point is that she couldn’t possibly know that he would be right behind the door . . . or to the side of the door. Whatever.

At least, not in such a state. Or doing what he was doing.

Because who on Azar’s green Azarath does THAT in a gym? . . . Or a training room. Nevermind. The training room is enough like a gym to be called a gym. So there. And who would do something that retarded and reckless in an OPEN training room?????

Robin, apparently, one (she’s not sure which and she doesn’t really care to know at this moment) of her personality avatars snarks dryly, and Raven suddenly has the insane urge to send a foot through something vaguely resembling a wall (but much softer and with a greater propensity for breakage).

Because if she really thinks about it . . . well, maybe not ‘really’ – it’s actually pretty obvious – a gym . . . or training room . . . isn’t such a strange place, indoors or no. Okay, so the gym being indoors is a moot point . . . maybe . . . perhaps, but – seriously – he should have been more careful.

And less noisy.

And what the hell had he been wearing? Or better, why the hell was he wearing something so . . . so --

One foot, unhindered by a plaster cast, lashes out and finds a wall. Unfortunately, it is neither soft nor breakable.

“Ow.” Because, honestly, she had thought his regular costume was this side of ridiculous . . .

. . . and obnoxious . . .

. . . and Azarath. Metrion. Zenthos. It was leopard print.

She barely notices Beast Boy cowering away from her crutches in the hall. She is entirely too busy ruminating on the fact that she doesn’t believe for one second Robin’s story about open auditions and a showing of Tarzan at the Jump Municipal Civic Center.

Because if he was telling the truth (doubtful . . . even if he hadn't shown any signs of embarrassment), it just proves her right that her illustrious leader has entirely too much free time that could be better spent doing something productive like cleaning out the refrigerator, organizing Beast Boy’s disaster area of a bedroom, or notably NOT screwing around alone in the gym. Training room. WHATEVER.

He hadn’t even apologized, and her leg is broken in three places, her wrist is sprained, and her entire left side matches her uniform. (Robin is a lot heavier than she had allowed herself to imagine . . . not that she imagined him on top of her on a frequent basis or anything. Really). Not to mention, he now owes her a new cloak . . . and possibly a year’s worth of tea. It might just take her that long to calm down.

And if another person – in the Tower or otherwise – decides to comment on her injuries and link them to fighting crime or clumsiness (who – in Azar’s name – do they think she is? There is a reason Robin is often affectionately called 'Boy Blunder' and she - notably - does not have a pet name equivalent) one more time, she will scream and possibly go Trigon on their ass(es).

Because it’s not her fault that Robin was swinging around from the gym rafters, screaming, in a leopard print loin cloth. It’s not her fault that she had decided to meditate during his scheduled "training" time – sharing the room had never been a problem before. And it was certainly not her fault that at the exact moment she stepped through the door, Robin startled into letting go the rope and crashing – full tilt – into her.

It’s also not her fault – not really – that Robin is currently confined to his bed and nursing a sore groin. After all, she’s not psychic. How was she supposed to know that moving her good knee just so with that amount of force would connect so smartly between his legs.

It’s simply not her fault.

And later, when he realizes the same, she plans on gracefully accepting his apology and kissing it all better . . . and maybe investing in a matching bikini.

Just a thought.

- Kysra