Jason almost choked on his own damn drool. Almost.

He'd been sitting on a rooftop ledge, brooding like a proper Gotham vigilante, waiting for the infamous Spider-Brat to show up. Word was you were back in town—swinging in from New York to sniff around Black Mask's little pharmaceutical side hustle.

And yeah, he knew you were coming. Bruce had mentioned it. Offhand. Like, "So-and-so will be helping with the Black Mask case." That was it. No details. No mention of how many years it had been since Jason had last seen you.

You were twelve the last time.

Twelve.

Janky red hoodie, duct-taped sneakers, some busted homemade goggles that kept fogging up, running around claiming you had spider powers. You'd clung to Bruce like a spider-shaped barnacle, constantly begging to join patrols. Jason remembered calling you "Bug-Bite" just to piss you off.

And then, well... he died.

Unbeknownst to him, you took it hard. No more jokes. No more goofy gadgets. You took the power seriously. Left Gotham. Built something of your own in New York. Became someone.

He figured you'd outgrown the hero shtick. Moved on. Maybe settled for a normal life.

But then—you dropped in front of him.

Literally.

One second, he was staring at the skyline, and the next there was a thud on the rooftop as you landed in a crouch, one hand braced on the concrete. Tight black and red suit gleaming, spider symbol stretching across your chest.

Jason blinked.

You stood up. Confident. Smooth. Ridiculously hot.

And his brain short-circuited.

Gone was the scrappy twelve-year-old in busted shoes and endless questions. In your place stood a web-slinging vigilante with a body sculpted by divine vengeance, probably, because there was no way that was legal.

"...Spider-Brat?" he blurted.

Seriously. There should be laws. He should not be feeling things right now.

Jason's jaw was tight. "You grew up too well. This is illegal."

He didn't mean to say that out loud. He was trying to say hi. He was trying to say good to see you alive.

But no. His brain went straight to thirst and decided to let his mouth crash the damn car.

Great. Now he has to spend the rest of the night trying not to get caught staring at you while you fight crime.