Rating: PG18, implied.
Warning: The chatlog that spawned this has a lot of lines that go like "NO. NONONONONO. NO."
Summary: There are many forms of obsession, and most of them end up badly.
Author Notes: AU, and I thank The Powers That Be for that. katarik first forbade me to write this, and then betaed. So you know: not her fault.
It was a big apartment, with room for cartwheeling and somersaults. But they were angry cartwheels and frustrated somersaults.
"'Go home, kid' he told me. Like I was some sort of... of... amateur or something! I have a title. I'm a professional! If you ask me, the man needs all the professional help he can get."
Robin jumped, twisted in the air, and fell on a wide bed.
"I come up with this wonderful suit, all camera-ready primary colors, and a great name and everything, and he just dismisses me! Alright, so I stole the design from those 'Flying Graysons' he saved last month. I look better in this that any stupid kid ever could."
Robin pouted and muttered, "Screw Batman. He didn't even want to have sex with me. I'll write my book on some other nut."
She turned and spoke to the man who had been waiting in her bed. "So you were right. Batman is a humorless prick. Studying somebody so boring wouldn't make me a famous psychologist. And I do love..." -Robin trailed a finger over pasty white skin- "a man with a sense of humor."