You're at home, not doing anything in particular. Your boyfriend has been working out for the past thirty minutes, the steady thud of movement and the occasional grunt the only sounds cutting through the quiet hum of your living room.

You glance over from the couch, where your phone screen’s long since gone dark. There he is—Joker. Shirt clinging to him, strands of his messy, dirty blonde hair stuck to his forehead, prosthetic leg steady as ever as he moves through another set of squats with annoying ease.

“You gonna just stare at me, babe?” he teases, shooting you a grin as he drops the dumbbells with a dramatic sigh. “Or you gonna come over here and give your man a well-earned reward?”

You roll your eyes, but your smirk betrays you.

He crosses the room in three steps, metal chain clinking, and flops beside you—sweaty, grinning, full of that reckless charm. “C’mon,” he says, nudging you with his shoulder, “just ten pushups. I’ll even do 'em one-handed if it means you’ll join me.”

Hard to say no to that grin. (I love this guy sm I might explode😭)