Title: Your Ex-Lover is Dead
Author: Greysnyper
Fandom: Teen Titans Go!
Betas: Vadalia; Yami no Kaiba; Katarik;
Char: Red X/Robin
Spoilers: Yami no Kaiba’s "Forever Bound" precedes this.
Rating: NC17; Non-Con sex, demons, and bad words.

*---*---*---*---*

The night is still young when Red X finds Robin. This is a change, for usually it is in the dawn hours when he first spies the kid. The other will be leaping rooftops without a care in the world, heading home. It’s like what Red X doesn’t do.

Home, that is.

But he’s not jealous.

He finds Robin on a rooftop, and the sky is not clear tonight. The summer day had been very hot and the temperatures are supposed to go up by week’s end. Now, the thick ugly canopy above JC holds down the heat. Stifles it for everyone’s discomfort.

Discomfort. That’s the word Red X thinks of, when he gropes a shadow across from the building Robin occupies. He’s got his sensors zooming in and he can see the frown etched into his rival’s face.

The cape is dead weight, dragging down without life. The shoulders are slumped and one gauntlet is clinging the other arm, rubbing. The mask is staring off, and Red isn’t sure how he knows. But he knows. Robin isn’t looking at anything. He’s looking for something.

Red X knows it won’t be him.

But he’s not jealous.

The night is still young and there is nothing going on. This would explain why Red X has found Robin so easily. There are no crimes for Red to commit. Yet. There is no trouble for the Titans to be distracted with. Yet. And so, Robin is alone, and the others...?

The others. Red X thinks about them. Not while he’s working, because focus and adrenaline always come first with a job. But during the hot summer days when he’s got nothing to do but live at--he doesn’t call it a home. And he thinks of them.

Does the alien get homesick? What’s her planet like? Would she ever show anyone? The shape-changer, does he invent animals to become? Do other animals accept him? Does he get instincts like them? Does the witch party? Would she dress up for it? Do her parents know or care that she’s got "evil" powers? The robot, what’s his story? Does he get as weighed down by the summer heat, being all metal? Does he ever want to lead the team?

Does he envy Robin?

"Does he want to be Robin?" Red asks himself, and clicks off the magnification in his mask. "I’d relate..."

But he’s *not* jealous.

The day he admits to *that*, will be the day the world ends.

*---*---*---*

The world is ending. He knows this, and he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know why.

No, Robin catches himself. He knows.

He always has.

The start of the night clarified this for him. The eye is on him. He feels it. Almost as strongly as he feels the humidity, the…the burns, the presence of a body landing behind him.

And Robin turns, quick and less alert then he’d like to be. He catches the name before he shares it, finding a lithe form instead of...

Him.

"Red."

There’s a grin hiding behind the mask that he doesn’t feel. Doesn’t think about it. "Robin," he is answered.

This is the part where they stare each other down. A warm breeze rattles along the top of the building but it brings no comfort. It is more like a whisper in one’s ear.

Not this, pleads Robin. Not now.

He says, "You shouldn’t be here." The authority though, is quickly being stripped from his tone. He can’t... he--

There it is, like before. A slip or a fading gesture, stroking his jaw and then gone.

Robin has to force himself to think of Red X’s smirk. The other is smirking, right?

*---*---*---*

Red X feels the grin fall off of his face.

He can see immediately that he isn’t wanted here. And it is not like the other times, where the Titans have found him somewhere private, taking something private. He’s not stealing anything... *yet*, he resists the urge to accept the dismissal and leave.

"Usually the only birds up at this hour are here for the worms," he drawls. It’s safe to start this way. Robin isn’t here for him.

But he’s not--

"I’m thinking."

Red pauses, digesting the statement that he is given. There is a catch in it. A quiver that threatens to drive the words apart. Red wishes he had the eyes to see what was behind the cracks. Robin’s been doing more than just thinking.

"Of?"

And it’s not like Red to ask. Not like him to even care! He isn’t *wanted* here, so he shouldn’t want to be here. Laugh at the other, flip a bird, jump off the side of the roof and be done with it.

If it’s not like Red to ask, it’s even more unlikely for Robin to answer. This he does, after a spell of silence and uncomfortable shifting. Something invisible roots Red to his spot and tunes his ears for listening.

"Slade," Robin speaks, finally. "Slade is dead."

He is not *telling*. Instead, Robin is (what the hell?) asking.

Slade is dead?

"I know," Red X answers. "Word on the street says that your team was there."

To this, Robin says nothing. He looks…uncertain. It is not a far leap for Red’s mind to envision the kid’s face to fall into something crumpled, and this--this scares Red. Since when does the Boy Wonder (*the* Boy Wonder) cry?

He won’t, Red tells himself. He can’t.

We all can’t.

Regardless, Red X adds, "I bet it was necessary. Things happen. Even Slade can’t live forever." It’s not your fault.

Even as the words travel across between them, Red somehow knows that these are lies.

*---*---*---*

Robin?

There is a call, and Robin turns his head away from Red to look... elsewhere. There is just night looking back, still heavy and dark. Shadows from almost every corner. Staring.

Red X must have misinterpreted, because he says something about how even Slade can’t escape death.

Robin.

He closes his eyes and ignores it all. The feathered feelings that suddenly grow hard. The darkness of his room when he wakes up. The pulse in his arm flooding his injuries. The heat. The night. Red X. When he finally opens them, the thief has moved closer, cautiously cutting the space between them.

"Kid, you sick or something?"

He wants to be.

His arm is stinging and it spreads. He can’t feel anything else but the heat. The heaviness of the cape and clothes. Wants to lay down and--he’s been here before.

"Fever?"

He’s allowed the thief to get closer, and Red puts his gauntlet to Robin’s brow in an action of checking Robin’s temperature. Robin can’t recall if he designed the gloves to do that. He really should recall. He knows Red is mocking him.

"Screw off," he manages.

*---*---*---*

"Make me."

Dammit, Red thinks. Did he sound more disgusted by the turn-away then he had planned? The two words he gives are less like a challenge and more like a rebuttal.

Looking the kid up and down, Red knows that Robin doesn’t appear to have it in him to 'make' Red do anything. Perhaps it is a fever and Red can be confounded later by why the kid would leave the Tower in such a state. But would a fever keep Red locked inside?

No.

Very little would prevent Red from stepping out and doing what he needed to. He rarely passed up any chance to help himself to JC.

So why are you still here? he hears himself quest. Like Robin would stand in his way if he wanted to rip off some pawn shops or something...

Robin tries to glare at Red through the mask, but the effect is rendered moot by the flush in his face and the sudden diversion of attention. Robin snaps a quick glance to the shadows again and then frowns. Shifts and the cape makes lazy sounds along the fabric of Robin’s suit.

Red allows his sensors to pick up the temperature of the boy, beyond what the gauntlet hasn’t told him. What would it be worth to the Titans if he had to carry the Boy Wonder home?

"I’m not--," Robin starts, probably understanding Red’s intentions. He always was bright. "...sick."

*---*---*---*

Robin catches himself before stating that he isn’t crazy. But there it is again, ethereal and coming from nowhere in particular.

Robin.

What? he wants to ask. He didn’t ask before, and there’s a light touch in his hair. Lighter than Red X’s gauntlet, withdrawing from his brow.

He catches his breath and pleads again. Not here. Not now.

"Slade is dead," he repeats as he feels Red watching him. As much as he feels the eye from the shadows. "He’s *dead*."

*---*---*---*

So I’ve gathered. Good for him. But I’m not jealous.

I’m just... scared?

Red can admit as much, because Robin never freaks out. Red X is almost tempted to sneak a glance at the shadows around them too, even though he knows nothing is there. Robin’s almost…trembling now. Scaring Red even more and when the great get scared, the scared get going.

Red isn’t going to move.

Especially when Robin sharply looks up at *him* now, finally. The mask exaggerates the lack of colour in Robin’s eyes. Red suddenly notices the paint touching the kid’s lip.

"Did you cut yourself?" Did you let someone cut you?

*---*---*---*

It’s a light touch, but real. Holding his jaw as Red’s sensors scan a closer look at Robin’s mouth. The whole act screams danger, letting an enemy in so close. But Robin can’t make himself move. He is starting to piece together the nature of the voice.

Robin.

In his ear, and sounding vindictive. Hungry. Jealous.

The voice is not real like Red X’s, and Robin breathes tentatively. He feels the same exhale start in his rival.

"I fell."

Red’s almost subtle stroke stops and a snort emanates from behind the mask.

"I’ve used that one before kid. It doesn’t convince anyone anymore."

As much as Robin wants to log that away for future encounters, he is leaning in from a push. A trace down his side that doesn’t disturb his cape. It’s like the article is not even there to hinder the touch. But the cape, it’s hindering Robin. Heavier. Cumbersome and substantial, like he knows the skull-shaped mask to be.

The mask stares at him for an instant, and then comes off. "It doesn’t convince me."

The face isn’t Slade’s and--why did I think that?

Robin chokes on the thought and the touch seizes him. His dark hair, clenched in unseen fists. His neck, clasped viciously. His arms now igniting. Robin grabs his cape and wrenches it free.

Robin!

"Kid?" and Red is there with confusion and concern and not enough want. The features staring at him Robin can ignore. A black glove grips the arm that has pulled the cape off, and Robin feels the spikes of pain protest to the outside touch.

Robin knows how to remove the other’s gloves as much as he knows how to refuse the touch.

He lets himself shudder and pulls Red in.

*---*---*---*

If asked who he really is, Red X would have told Robin "Red".

Robin doesn’t ask, though, and Red doesn’t choose to tell. But he’s worried, and it’s not like him to be. Not ever.

He’s not even thinking about his secrets, when Robin takes his gauntlet off with an experienced hand. Robin then removes his own and it’s…they have the same sized hands.

Red doesn’t require help with his remaining glove, and can’t bring himself to rationally focus on what he’s doing. What they’re doing. Robin is stripping off pieces of his suit like they’re on fire or something. And, Red adds, it’s good to be wanted.

The city is holding it’s breath around them. Something is fashioned to break, Red senses. Whether it’s the heat first, the sanity he’s shedding, or Robin... Red is unsure.

He looks up as he’s tugging down his pants, unlocked from the belt, and asks again. "Kid?" He looks up and stops.

Everything stops.

*---*---*---*

"Robin?"

There’s a brush along his thigh, and Robin relives the need to hold something. A table, a wall, a... someone.

Not now, he whimpers and knows it’s too far gone for that. There’s a hand on his bare shoulder and it’s unlike the feelings. It’s steady and it’s real.

"I need--"

Help. Help me. Help...

The marks are right there, he wants to cry. You’re touching them and tell me you see them. His desperate gape is replaced by the blank stare of his mask. He can’t explain it.

Especially not when Red is taking up his lips and ending any protest from Robin, because this fills a void. It fills the gap the voice leaves, with pressure. With warmth and with taste that isn’t his own.

Red likes the texture of the scab that is forming, and Robin likes the fulfilled need when he throws his arm around the other, gripping hair and head and pulling in as he’s fitting them. Fitting them together. The unreal touches, stop.

It is an instant, where Robin can fool himself into thinking that it’s over. That Red X has perhaps cured him of a ghost he couldn’t shed alone.

He almost parts to say "thank you" when it all rushes insurmountably back.

He parts to choke on a scream, Robin’s knees failing him and the world is reverting to a pinprick in a black void. He waits for the voice now, to mock him, to laugh the familiar knowing laugh, or to promise doom. But there is only the whisper of fingers, on him. Everywhere.

Robin’s chest is favoured; tickled. Teased. He writhes for a moment under a body (whose?) and shudders as another touch curves up his leg. One flicks his ear, murmuring nothing.

"Please," he begs. His arm is around something and can’t reach to where he needs it.

Robin.

"Robin," Red’s voice is soft. A tongue tracing circles and ghosting teeth by his neck. Gravel under his back. He is lying. They are sprawling.

"Please," he keens, tossing his head back and clinging anew. Arching at a touch that’s not there. Not like Red, who’s arm traces Robin’s hip. This has to stop.

It has to end.

A fondle that may or may not happen induces another stifled whimper. Robin’s lip stings where he clamps down on it. Red is pinning him. The shadows are pinning him. There is sweat and it’s the only real thing. Robin grasps at Red’s working hand, assuring himself that it’s there. Red twitches when Robin’s hand on his back finds a knot and a scar. Chang.

Robin.

The voice is angry again, and the touch slides claws down Robin’s skin. Non-existent scars on his ass. He doesn’t care. He can’t. He--fingers not twisting his nipple, making him want to thrash.

He’s trying to focus. He’s really trying. A phantom touch pushes into Robin, with no intention of grace or warning and he loses it. Holds Red like the world is ending and cries up at the sky. He shares the name before he catches it, grinding a lithe form instead of...

Him.

In that instant it started to pour.

*---*---*---*

Red X feels himself give up his desire, and Robin too, warm on his stomach. The kid screams up at the sky.

It is not Red X’s name (Slade is dead).

But he’s not jealous. Holy goddamn fuck it all! Shit!

Somehow, Robin must realize this, Red hopes. *Needs* to know. Seeing the flushed and still boy with the warm rain beading desperately at pale skin, Red can’t read a reaction on the other’s face.

The eyes. The eyes say nothing but blank statements. Red X comes terribly close to reaching down and ripping the mask from Robin’s face.

He comes close, but doesn’t.

Between the splatter from the warm shower and the pants from the frozen figure on the ground, there is no sound granted from Red X picking up his clothes and slipping off. The shadows don’t watch as he leaves.

*---*---*---*

"Come to me, Robin." It is a slow soft whisper filling his mind. And as impossible as it sounds, he finally *knew* where the voice wanted him to go.

--To be continued in Never Alone by Yami no Kaiba.