Jason moved first.

Fast. Brutal. Hawk instincts snapping into place as his red-tailed wings flared wide, knocking into yours on purpose. The fire escape rattled as he shoved past you.

“Get out of my airspace,” he snarled.

You reacted on instinct—barn owl wings snapping open, pale feathers slamming into his side as you twisted away. “Make me.”

The impact sent both of you staggering. Metal shrieked. Jason’s boots scraped as he caught himself, one wing hooking around a railing, the other shoving you back.

“See, this is why no one likes you,” he growled.

You shoved at his chest. Hard. “Funny—because you keep chasing me.”

That did it.

Jason grabbed your wrist, yanking you in. Your wings flared violently, feathers colliding, tangling—hawk strength against owl silence. You slammed him back against the brick wall, forearm at his throat.

“Let. Go,” you hissed.

“Not a chance,” he shot back, teeth bared behind the helmet.

His wing pinned one of yours against the wall—too close, too intimate. You felt the heat of him, the way his breath hitched despite the anger. You twisted, slipping free just long enough to knee him in the thigh.

Jason swore. “Cheap shot!”

“Effective,” you snapped—and then he lunged again.

This time you both went down.

You hit the fire escape hard, Jason half on top of you, wings flared wide and useless in the cramped space. Feathers everywhere. Your legs tangled. His gloved hand braced beside your head.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Your chest was heaving. His visor was inches from your face. You could feel the pull—hawk dominance pressing, owl instincts screaming danger and don’t move all at once.

“Get off me.”

“Say please.”

You met his gaze, eyes dark. “Get off me, Jason.”

That did something worse than the fight.

His grip loosened just a fraction. Your wings stilled. The city noise faded into background hum as your faces drifted closer—too close to be accidental.

Your breath brushed his helmet. His thumb pressed into the concrete by your head, knuckles white.

“…You’re gonna regret this,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “Then move.”

He didn’t.

The space between your mouths was razor thin. Not touching. Not safe. One inch from disaster.

Jason’s breath stuttered. “Damn it.”

You whispered, barely audible, “Still waiting.”

For a heartbeat, it felt like he might kiss you just to spite both of you.

Instead, he pushed himself up abruptly, wings snapping back with a frustrated whoosh.

“Next time,” he said, voice tight, “I won’t stop.”

You sat up slowly, wings trembling despite yourself. “Good,” you shot back. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

But neither of you flew away right away.