title: Play Me A Memory

fandom; pairing: Teen Titans; Robin/Raven

rating: PG

summary: Two Titans walk into a (jazz) bar. No, really. ... well, sort of.

notes: Inspired by a recent binge on old jazz/lounge classics, and late-night IM conversations. Beta'd by the wonderful Astarael00; any remaining errors are entirely my own. Since does not allow the use of lyrics, I have removed them from this version; the original, lyrics-included version in located on my LJ writing journal here: http: //community .livejournal. com/ verbiography/ 3825. html (remove spacing).

disclaimer: Moon River belongs to the collective geniuses of Johnny Mercer and Henry Mancini, Moondance to Van Morrison, and Teen Titans to DC and Cartoon Network. Capiche? Good. (Oh, and the title is taken from Piano Man lyrics.)

****

The lights are soft and dim, painting the lounge in molten shades of orange, yellow, and blue that melt dreamily into the darkness and each other. A low buzz of conversation fills the room, punctuated by occasional sounds of laughter, and a toast here and there. Permeating the hum of socialization and good business is the velvet-smoke voice of the solo singer as she croons Moon River lovingly into the microphone, to the accompaniment of a piano, saxophone, and double bass ensemble.

The Wednesday night crowd at the Jupiter Jazz club-cum-bar is more subdued than its weekend incarnations, but the cosily small club is still relatively packed with professionals and students alike looking for a soothing place for some mid-week unwinding. It is a hidden gem tucked between an old antique bookshop and a dusty middle-age women's clothing store near the fringe of Jump's downtown core, and Jupiter Jazz is a favourite among those who are looking for a place to enjoy a night out with friends or colleagues without the risks of permanent hearing loss or epileptic fits a rave nightclub presented. Plus, the Jupiter offers an excellent array of blues, jazz, and lounge for those who simply wish to enjoy a peaceful evening in their own company and good music.

Which may explain why Raven is currently seated atop one of the round, red backless barstools beside the bar counter, nursing a small mug of wild raspberry tea in her hands. Why Robin is similarly seated on an identical stool to her immediate right is somewhat more of an unanswered question.

When Raven thinks about it, she's not really quite sure how the two of them ended up here either; all she knows is that, somewhere in the course of the Titans being given a night off to themselves (though they remained, naturally, on call to any disruptions), the Jupiter became a kind of tradition for the two of them. After a particularly heated encounter with Plasmus and Johnny Rancid earlier in the day, the others had opted to go to out shopping to relieve off some stress; Beast Boy wanted to check out the latest video games, Cyborg had been meaning to buy a new set of tire rims for the T-Car for a while, and Starfire never missed out on the opportunity to purchase more hair ornaments and nail polish. Which left Robin and Raven, who had looked at each other and decided that a night out at the shopping mall wasn't exactly their idea of relaxing. Before she knew it, they were standing at the entrance of the Jupiter and pushing open the door. (Actually, Robin held it for her, but why quibble the details?)

Neither of them is old enough to drink yet, but the bartender accommodates her order for tea and his for coffee with an easy smile; this isn't the first time either of them have been here, after all, whether in each other's company or not. And despite dressing civilian for the occasion, Robin is still easily identifiable by the mask he refuses to leave behind and Raven's chakra stone, if not her hair colour, ensures that she isn't mistaken for just another rebellious teenage girl.

"We found him in the basement—what is it, by the way, with evil mad scientists and basement lairs?—and we dealt with all his failed chimera experiments before Batman finally knocked him out and handcuffed him to the pipes for the police." Robin is reminiscing on one of his old escapades back in Gotham, and expounding it aloud for her benefit.

"Fascinating," she professes, a hint of a drawl in her otherwise-perfect deadpan.

He cocks his head to look askew at her, a strange half-contemplative, half-wistful smile on his lips. The lights by the counter are slightly brighter than the rest of the bar, hanging like pinpricks of falling stars from the ceiling. It illuminates her face unevenly, highlighting the curve of her cheekbones and brow, but accentuating the shadows on the hoods on her eyes and the dip of her lips.

She notices his gaze and lifts an eyebrow in turn. "What?"

Her question seems to visibly shake him from whatever reverie he'd been in, prompting the small strange smile to change to a grin. "Just looking," he answers truthfully.

Raven swivels her stool so that her body is facing his at an angle; the move throws the light contours on her face off and her chakra stone appears almost liquid as the light infuses it with warm, jewelled tones. "Looking at what?" From any other girl, the question might have been coy, on the brink of flirtatious; from Raven, it is merely perplexity laced with a touch of self-consciousness.

"You look different from when the Titans first formed."

"It has been over six years since then," she reminds him, her brow creasing faintly in perplexity over the thread of the conversation.

Robin laughs softly and shakes his head once. "But you haven't changed at all."

In the background, the singer's husky voice lingers and fades, and the ensemble strikes the opening chords of Van Morrison's Moondance.

"I hope you realize how much of a contradiction that is."

The low, sultry voice begins anew, drifting out over the bar as the double bass picks up the beat in deep, thrumming pizzicato notes.

"No, it's not," he replies easily.

Cocking his head again, that strange look re-enters his eyes; he just looks at her in silence for a minute as she grows increasingly unsettled under the weight of his scrutiny. Nevertheless, Raven doesn't back down from the stare and, just as she's about to snap and demand an explanation, he speaks again. "But that's not true either," he admits. "You have changed since we first met."

"We all have."

That earns her one of his effortlessly knee-buckling smiles as he acknowledges her assertion. "True, but not as much as you, Raven." At her uncertainty-narrowed eyes, he hastens to add, "It's not a bad thing. After all, you trust us more now, don't you? It's a good thing." He finishes with all of his signature confidence and flashes her another grin.

She averts her eyes at last, pushing her feet against the counter lightly to swivel her seat back. She takes a sip of her now-lukewarm tea to hide the sudden heat in her cheeks, but Robin catches the faint dusting of rose across the top of her cheekbones under the gentle halogen glow. Wisely, he says nothing and chooses, instead, to return to his own drink. The silence is filled by the husky swell of the singer.

Robin hides his smile in the rim of his own mug.

"It is a good thing," she murmurs then, at first so quietly that he isn't sure if he is meant to hear, and then louder as she turns to face him again. "It is a good thing. And I know I don't say this enough, but …" Here, she smiles—just a little curve of her lips and a softening of her eyes, but it's as radiant as any full-blown beam and, to him, it puts the vivid profile spotlight trained on the crooning starlet onstage to shame. "I am grateful to you—all of you. I thank Azar all the time that I met you all."

He doesn't have to think twice before reaching out to place a warm, ungloved hand on her lower arm. Such gestures are common between the two of them now, though it is usually he who initiates the touch and he usually refrains when the others are around for her sake. When they are alone, however, these little subtle contacts are natural, comfortable even, and if Raven notices the slightly more intimate positioning of his hand on her arm rather than her shoulder, she makes no mention of it. "I wish I'd had the chance to meet her," he says sincerely.

He's rewarded with a minute tug upwards of her smile. "She would have liked you." It is unclear from her tone whether she means that in regards to the Titans as a whole, or to him specifically. Perhaps it is on purpose; Robin doesn't know, but he doesn't dwell too much on it. "Arella—" She catches herself, pauses briefly, then continues, "Mother would have too."

A curious warmth wells up inside him and suffuses his body as he grins at her, lighting up like the Christmas tree she sometimes teased him of basing his uniform on. At the sight of it, Raven casts her eyes downward slightly, uneasy at being the recipient of so open a show of emotion. She doesn't understand that she deserves it, deserves it more than any of the other half-dozen girls who are currently eyeing Robin with undisguised appreciation and herself with more than a little envy. This minor hitch does not deter Robin, however, as she has yet to pull her arm away from where his hand rests. He lifts it slightly only to place light, strong fingers gently at her wrist; he watches with interest as her eyes flicker to follow the movement, and then, encouraged when she still does not disengage from the contact, he moves to cover her smaller hand with his.

Now Raven does react, jerking slightly, though not enough to extricate her hand, and her eyes fly up to meet his. Not willing to give her the chance to change her mind about freeing her appendage, Robin grins at her questioning stare, and closes his hand around hers solidly, sliding out of his seat and pulling her up with him. He manages to surprise her, because Raven allows herself to be dragged along for a minute before she realizes that he is leading them toward the small patch of dance floor in the middle of the club where silhouettes of several couples can be seen swaying and twirling to the beat of the music.

"Robin," she begins with a warning edge in her voice as she digs her heels in in protest.

He interrupts before she can object in earnest. "You have to dance to this one," he insists as the band picks up Moondance once again from the top. "Just one," he pleads and promises at the same time. "Please?"

It's the "please" that undoes her. Doubt and apprehension still flutter inside her chest, but Raven sighs and nods; his resulting smile is almost enough to make her not regret her moment of weakness. As it is, she follows after him with only minimal reluctance, her hand still enclosed firmly in his.

Robin brings them to the very fringe of the floorspace and no further, well-aware of the limits of her comfort zone and disinclined to push further than he already has—a consideration that Raven is grateful for. The singer has just eased smoothly into the opening lines of the song again.

Robin, still holding her right hand, flexes so that their fingers are entwined and brings his left hand up to rest lightly on the small of her back. Raven is less certain what to do with her free hand and she eventually opts for settling it, with some awkwardness, on his shoulder. From the small encouraging smile he gives her, she made the right decision.

Slowly but steadily, he coaxes her to sway languidly with the slower rhythm he manages to find in the upbeat jazz measures.

They stay like that; two teen superheroes in civilian clothing, dancing gently on the periphery of the main group to the languorous, liquid honey-caramel tones of the lounge singer's crooning. And when the song begins to wind down, Robin keeps his promise and lets her go, and they walk back to the bar together, both a little colder without the proximity of the other's body heat.

Raven chalks it and the tight, coiled feeling of something in her stomach up to a mild lingering discomfort.

Robin's eyes are thoughtful behind his mask, and he has no illusions as to the similar tightening in his chest.

They finish up their respective beverages, which had been warmed for them by the bartender while they were on the dance floor, pay, and bid the man a good night. The jazz cadences escape and follow them out into the warm September night as they make their way back to Titan's Tower side by side.

****

Endnotes: A re-foray (if that is a word; Word is telling me it is not) into an old, but beloved fandom of mine and definitely a tentative re-entrance into . Reviews/thoughts/comments shall be doted on. Concrit is always appreciated as an ever-developing writer; flames on my pairing of choice will be laughed at, especially since you've read all the way through to here already. Oh, and many bonus points to anyone who recognizes the source for the Jupiter Jazz bar title. X3