Rematch - Cyborg/Beast Boy, PG
Title: Rematch
Series: Teen Titans (the cartoon)
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Beast Boy/Cyborg
Summary: Robin inadvertantly witnesses unusal happenings in the midst of a video game tournment between the resident changeling and half-robot.
“You’re going down, grass stain!”
“You wish, rust bucket!”
These were the sounds that followed Robin through the living room as he made his way to the kitchen. Friendly threats; challenges issued and met. The boy wonder smirked and retrieved a half-finished energy drink from the side door of the fridge, turning to witness a vicious and ongoing battle of hand-eye coordination occurring at the game console between his two friends and teammates.
“Score!” Cyborg shouted, pumping a fist in the air to celebrate the punch his game character had landed in his opponent’s face.
“Lucky shot,” Beast Boy snapped, redoubling his efforts and bending over the controller in concentration. “Gimme four seconds to power up and you’re history.”
“You don’t have four seconds, green genes,” Cyborg shot back, insufferably smug, and was promptly cracked across the digital jaw by a distinctly powered-up fist. “Hey!”
A downward-spiral bleeping noise signified Cyborg’s defeat. “Woohoo!” Beast Boy cried, and leapt onto the back of the sofa to strike a triumphant pose. “Who’s awesome? I am! That’s right! You know it! Aww yeah!”
“Rematch!” Cyborg shouted, grabbing Beast Boy by the ankle and yanking him back into his seat.
“No way, dude, I already called a rematch last time, remember?” Beast Boy reminded, taking his turn to be smug with great satisfaction. “You don’t get to call another one.”
“What? That’s not a rule!” said Cyborg, growing livid. “You made that up!”
“Did not.”
“Did too!”
Robin watched the ensuing scuffle with amused interest, wondering who would emerge victorious in this match. These usually ended with one or the other being pinned, shoved into the floor, or beaten into submission with a pillow before a grudging truce was reached and another game was started.
“Hey, no turning into animals!” Cyborg yelled, chucking a pillow at a large green leopard. “That’s cheating!”
“That’s not a rule,” said Beast Boy the parrot, mocking. “You made that up.”
“Oh, don’t even make me break out the cannon,” Cyborg warned, waving an arm threateningly. The green parrot perched on the back of the sofa looked wary, and turned back into Beast Boy.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, suspicious. Cyborg grinned and raised an eyebrow; it was a “try me” sort of expression. Beast Boy’s face turned grim with challenge, and he launched himself at Cyborg, apparently just to see if he would make good on his threat. The larger boy clearly had not expected the swiftness and force of this execution, and thus was knocked off the sofa and pinned to the floor, skidding several feet on his back so that the two of them were visible to Robin, still smirking in the kitchen.
“Hey!” Cyborg yelped, grappling with the skinny green form that was desperately trying to keep him pinned. He latched onto Beast Boy’s wrists and attempted to twist his back somewhat impossibly to dislodge the legs wrapped around his chest. “Get off, string bean!”
“Not a chance,” Beast Boy shot back, grinning enthusiastically and clinging like ivy. “Quit struggling and admit you lost fair and square and I might not go T-Rex on you.”
Cyborg gnashed his teeth in annoyance and gave one last painful-looking buck before giving in. “You cheated,” he spat, accusatory and almost pouting.
“Maybe I just changed the rules,” said Beast Boy, voice dripping with complacency.
“That’s not fair, you little monkey,” Cyborg informed him. Beast Boy wrenched his wrists from his friend’s grip and folded his arms nonchalantly over the broad metallic expanse of Cyborg’s chest, resting his chin on top of them and grinning like a cat.
“Life’s not fair,” he said, matter-of-factly, and raised himself up with his hands planted on the carpet on either side of Cyborg’s head. He leaned down over the other boy’s face, smiling smugly. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”
There was a moment of strained silence that Cyborg seemed to be trying to fill with about a thousand different things he couldn’t exactly say, and then he lurched up and kissed Beast Boy on the lips.
Beast Boy looked stunned. Cyborg, surprisingly enough, looked even more stunned. Robin was too busy quietly choking on his energy drink to actually formulate an emotion. He slunk back behind the counter and sunk to the floor, pounding his chest and hacking and hoping not to be discovered.
“I…what?” said Beast Boy’s voice, from over by the sofa.
“Uh…” Cyborg’s voice replied, awkwardly.
“…um.”
“…yeah, look, can I just say that-”
“Rematch!”
“Yeah! Rematch! Good idea!”
There were sounds of a hurried extrication of limbs and couch cushions scuffling and creaking, followed by the unmistakable noise of a video game starting up. Robin, having finally dislodged a sizeable amount of liquid from his lungs, stood up shakily and edged out of the room.
“…BB?” said Cyborg’s voice, as Robin walked stiffly down the hall.
“…Cy.”
“Can we-”
“We can talk about it when I’m not kicking your tail via giant digital robot, okay?”
“…okay. And I think you mean when I’m not kicking your tail.”
“In your dreams!”
And, in a roundabout and mentally scarring sort of way, Robin supposed that all was right with the world.
Series: Teen Titans (the cartoon)
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Beast Boy/Cyborg
Summary: Robin inadvertantly witnesses unusal happenings in the midst of a video game tournment between the resident changeling and half-robot.
“You’re going down, grass stain!”
“You wish, rust bucket!”
These were the sounds that followed Robin through the living room as he made his way to the kitchen. Friendly threats; challenges issued and met. The boy wonder smirked and retrieved a half-finished energy drink from the side door of the fridge, turning to witness a vicious and ongoing battle of hand-eye coordination occurring at the game console between his two friends and teammates.
“Score!” Cyborg shouted, pumping a fist in the air to celebrate the punch his game character had landed in his opponent’s face.
“Lucky shot,” Beast Boy snapped, redoubling his efforts and bending over the controller in concentration. “Gimme four seconds to power up and you’re history.”
“You don’t have four seconds, green genes,” Cyborg shot back, insufferably smug, and was promptly cracked across the digital jaw by a distinctly powered-up fist. “Hey!”
A downward-spiral bleeping noise signified Cyborg’s defeat. “Woohoo!” Beast Boy cried, and leapt onto the back of the sofa to strike a triumphant pose. “Who’s awesome? I am! That’s right! You know it! Aww yeah!”
“Rematch!” Cyborg shouted, grabbing Beast Boy by the ankle and yanking him back into his seat.
“No way, dude, I already called a rematch last time, remember?” Beast Boy reminded, taking his turn to be smug with great satisfaction. “You don’t get to call another one.”
“What? That’s not a rule!” said Cyborg, growing livid. “You made that up!”
“Did not.”
“Did too!”
Robin watched the ensuing scuffle with amused interest, wondering who would emerge victorious in this match. These usually ended with one or the other being pinned, shoved into the floor, or beaten into submission with a pillow before a grudging truce was reached and another game was started.
“Hey, no turning into animals!” Cyborg yelled, chucking a pillow at a large green leopard. “That’s cheating!”
“That’s not a rule,” said Beast Boy the parrot, mocking. “You made that up.”
“Oh, don’t even make me break out the cannon,” Cyborg warned, waving an arm threateningly. The green parrot perched on the back of the sofa looked wary, and turned back into Beast Boy.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, suspicious. Cyborg grinned and raised an eyebrow; it was a “try me” sort of expression. Beast Boy’s face turned grim with challenge, and he launched himself at Cyborg, apparently just to see if he would make good on his threat. The larger boy clearly had not expected the swiftness and force of this execution, and thus was knocked off the sofa and pinned to the floor, skidding several feet on his back so that the two of them were visible to Robin, still smirking in the kitchen.
“Hey!” Cyborg yelped, grappling with the skinny green form that was desperately trying to keep him pinned. He latched onto Beast Boy’s wrists and attempted to twist his back somewhat impossibly to dislodge the legs wrapped around his chest. “Get off, string bean!”
“Not a chance,” Beast Boy shot back, grinning enthusiastically and clinging like ivy. “Quit struggling and admit you lost fair and square and I might not go T-Rex on you.”
Cyborg gnashed his teeth in annoyance and gave one last painful-looking buck before giving in. “You cheated,” he spat, accusatory and almost pouting.
“Maybe I just changed the rules,” said Beast Boy, voice dripping with complacency.
“That’s not fair, you little monkey,” Cyborg informed him. Beast Boy wrenched his wrists from his friend’s grip and folded his arms nonchalantly over the broad metallic expanse of Cyborg’s chest, resting his chin on top of them and grinning like a cat.
“Life’s not fair,” he said, matter-of-factly, and raised himself up with his hands planted on the carpet on either side of Cyborg’s head. He leaned down over the other boy’s face, smiling smugly. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”
There was a moment of strained silence that Cyborg seemed to be trying to fill with about a thousand different things he couldn’t exactly say, and then he lurched up and kissed Beast Boy on the lips.
Beast Boy looked stunned. Cyborg, surprisingly enough, looked even more stunned. Robin was too busy quietly choking on his energy drink to actually formulate an emotion. He slunk back behind the counter and sunk to the floor, pounding his chest and hacking and hoping not to be discovered.
“I…what?” said Beast Boy’s voice, from over by the sofa.
“Uh…” Cyborg’s voice replied, awkwardly.
“…um.”
“…yeah, look, can I just say that-”
“Rematch!”
“Yeah! Rematch! Good idea!”
There were sounds of a hurried extrication of limbs and couch cushions scuffling and creaking, followed by the unmistakable noise of a video game starting up. Robin, having finally dislodged a sizeable amount of liquid from his lungs, stood up shakily and edged out of the room.
“…BB?” said Cyborg’s voice, as Robin walked stiffly down the hall.
“…Cy.”
“Can we-”
“We can talk about it when I’m not kicking your tail via giant digital robot, okay?”
“…okay. And I think you mean when I’m not kicking your tail.”
“In your dreams!”
And, in a roundabout and mentally scarring sort of way, Robin supposed that all was right with the world.