![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
comment_fic, prompt was queer by garbagedate posted: 2022-11-26
summary: Tara, because she is Tara, perverts people. It’s all she is, probably.
word count: 544 words
notes: written for comment_fic, prompt was queer by garbage
She’s leaning in close, enough to feel the brushes of Raven’s long, kempt hair as it lies on her chest but sticks up in front of her anyway, as much as she knows Raven likes to brush at it calmly and mindlessly. Or maybe, for Raven, it’s a mindful action, aware of each strand that snags on the bristles and more at peace with the ones that don’t, but still calm with the strands that pop out from the force of the bristles that wrap around it.
Tara feels hot breath on her face and doesn’t think to determine whose breath it is. She feels split hairs against her chest and lifts a hand to rest on Raven’s shoulder. Looks forward, into Raven’s eyes, and, because it feels right and in line, cocks her head to the side, smirking.
“You’re so stupidly mysterious, y’know. You never want people to see how bad you think you are, but you still want them to discover it, bit by bit. It’s kind of hypocritical.”
Raven, because she is Raven, is still impassive, heat from her shoulder on Tara’s hand and all. Impervious, impenetrable. Tara decides that she’s like Titans Tower in how she steels herself all the time.
Tara has practiced pulling apart the Tower, pulling from sediments in the corner of her room, incidentally leaving piles of sawdust on the floor and exposing drywall. Sheetrock. It’s gotta be something more fortified, since it’s Titans Tower. She chooses to believe it’s sheetrock. Shitrock, she’s nicknamed it. Easier to fall, collapse.
She pulls back from Raven’s shoulder and chest, exits her personal space by just a step, half in, half out. Leans her head back, preserves her smirk. She thinks Raven would iron out anything that might make her lips turn up or down. Nothing vulnerable. Tara makes herself hate every bit of that.
Raven still looks unfazed, but maybe a little more considerate, now. Judging, probably. Typical. Tara crosses her arms, leans forward, a step out of Raven’s space but poking her head back in, again. It’s what she does, is good at, always: outlining people’s spaces with her eyes, stabbing her way in, head first and then with her words.
Tara, because she is Tara, perverts people. It’s all she is, probably.
Raven breathes out, she knows this time.
“Those are all words that can describe you, Tara.”
She smiles, pushes aside the image of those contact lenses in their case, tucked away in the second drawer of her Titans Tower issued dresser, under a bundle of plundered shirts that belong to another side of her, but somehow found their way here, this side of goodness, plastic and all.
Tara pivots on one foot, stealing a glance of Raven as she moves. Cocks her head to the side again, shrugs. “I never said I wasn’t a hypocrite, you know. I fill in your blanks, you fill in mine,” she breathes, makes sure her lilt is as careless as it should be. Steps forward, farther away from Raven and Raven’s space.
She breathes out, “It’s more fun, this way.” and leaves the room, Raven still impassive, probably. She’ll fill in the rest of today’s blanks later. Maybe Raven will do the same, today, maybe not. Probably not.