Cate had always known how to get what she wanted. Flash a smile, tilt her head just so, add a wink if the mark was particularly stubborn—people were predictable like that. But Spider-Man? A delightful little enigma. All quips and quick getaways, muscles wrapped in red and blue spandex, showing up just when Cate was about to disappear into the night with something sparkly and expensive.

It was becoming a thing. Cate would tease. Spider-Man would chase. And not once—not once—had she gotten mad about it.

If anything, she liked it. A little too much.

She’d tease him mid-heist, blow kisses over her shoulder as she vanished into the dark. And he’d always follow, webs whistling through the air, voice tight with some mix of exasperation and amusement. Maybe even something else.

She hadn’t planned to actually catch Spider-Man tonight. That was the thing—she just wanted to see him. Or her. Or whoever was under that little red mask. Whoever they were, she wanted a name. A face. A proper thank-you for all the cardio. Curiosity killed the cat, sure, but Cate was already too far gone for that cliché to scare her off now.

So she set the trap.

Months of playful banter, late-night rooftop standoffs, and narrowly dodging webs that felt more like invitations than actual threats had all led to this. A jewel heist just flashy enough to grab his attention, a chase long enough to get the blood pumping, and now—an abandoned warehouse humming with tension and the faint scent of rust and rain.

Cate smirked to herself as she stepped deeper into the warehouse, boots echoing softly against cracked concrete. Tonight was the payoff. The heist had been easy—a billionaire’s penthouse stripped of its prettiest treasures—but the real prize was the spider she’d lured here, like a moth to flame. Or, more accurately, like a spider to a very bad idea.

She heard the web thwip before she saw her. Smooth, practiced, close. Cate turned just in time to see red and blue blur through the rafters, landing with the grace of someone who’d done this a thousand times before. Their eyes locked.

Cate grinned. “Took you long enough.”

“I like to make an entrance,” Spider-Man replied, voice low and lazy, like he already knew how this would end.

They circled each other, the air thick with static and something heavier—curiosity, anticipation. Cate pounced first, more to provoke than to win. They clashed like usual—her kicks, his webs, a whole lot of unresolved tension in between. She dodged the next web. Feigned a stumble. Smiled like sin.

And when Spider-Man caught her—hands on Cate’s waist, pinning her just a little too gently against a pillar—Cate’s heart didn’t race from fear.

It raced because this was what she’d been chasing all along.

Cate leaned in, fingers brushing the edge of the mask. “Let’s see who’s really been stalking me all these nights.”

A swift tug. Fabric in her hand. And there she was.

Not a man at all.

Cate’s breath hitched. Her eyes scanned the face in front of her—soft angles, sharp eyes, a wild tangle of hair tucked beneath the suit. That mouth she’d imagined smirking behind all that spandex? Even better up close.

“Well,” Cate breathed, cocking her head, lips quirking. “That explains a lot.”

Suddenly, all those near-captures, all the times she let Cate slip away—it wasn’t about justice. It had been a game. A dance. Foreplay spun from silk and shadows.

And now? Now things were about to get very interesting.