The afternoon sun filtered lazily through the windows of Titans Tower, casting warm golden light across the common room floor. The city skyline shimmered beyond the glass, quiet and calm for once. Inside, the team had scattered—Robin and Cyborg were in the training room, Starfire had gone flying, and the only two left were exactly where they always ended up on slow days: the couch.

Raven sat cross-legged, her posture perfectly still, a thick, worn book hovering in front of her—its pages turning themselves with small flicks of her magic. The air around her pulsed softly with energy, calm and focused. Her face was neutral, serene, only her eyes moving as they tracked the words.

And then there was Garfield.

He was draped over her lap like he’d melted there, his entire body stretched out across the cushions, limbs hanging dramatically in every direction. His head rested on her thigh, cheek smushed just enough to be ridiculous. He’d been there for the past twenty minutes, shifting positions every few seconds, sighing louder each time.

“Rae,” he groaned for the fourth time. “I’m dying of boredom. Dying.”

“You’re very much alive,” she replied without glancing up from her book.

“But emotionally?” he mumbled, flopping an arm over his face. “Gone. Flatline. You’ve read, like, 80 chapters and I’ve aged six years.”

“You’ve been here for less than half an hour.”

“Time moves differently when you’re suffering.”

Raven gave a slow, deep sigh but didn’t push him off.

Instead, Garfield shifted again, this time rolling onto his side and poking her stomach with one finger. Then her arm. Then her cheek.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

“Garfield,” she warned.

Poke.

“I’m just checking you’re real,” he said with a crooked grin. “You haven’t blinked in forever. You could be a hologram.”

Another sigh, this one more tired than irritated. Her hand dropped from the book and lazily threaded through his hair. Garfield immediately stilled, like she’d cast a sleep spell. His eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I knew it,” he mumbled, nuzzling closer. “You pretend not to like me, but your fingers say otherwise.”

“I’m keeping you quiet.”

“I like when you read,” he added, voice softer now. “Your face gets all focused. It’s kinda cute.”

Raven’s cheeks flushed faintly, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she returned her focus to the book, her fingers never stopping their motion through his hair.

Garfield stayed there, curled comfortably across her lap, head rising and falling gently with her breathing. His earlier drama faded into silence, replaced with quiet contentment and the occasional twitch of his ears.

The book floated on. The sun shifted. And somewhere between two pages, Raven smiled.