The Watchtower hung silently above Earth, its glass walls reflecting the endless void of space. Your cape rustled as he moved across the command deck, eyes scanning the holographic maps hovering in the air. Hal Jordan leaned against a console, arms crossed, smirking like he owned the place—which, in his mind, he might as well.

“Look, Bats,” Hal began, gesturing toward the display. “If we hit Sector 7G from orbit, we’ll cut off their escape route and—”

“No,” You interrupted, his voice low and precise. “You’ll alert them before we even arrive. We approach from the shadows, as always.”

Hal’s grin widened. “Oh, come on. Shadows? Really? You’re up here, millions of miles from Gotham, whining about shadows?”

You didn’t blink. “Stealth is not optional. You’ve got a tendency to… announce yourself.”

“Announce myself? I save lives, Bats. And sometimes, I like to make it fun.” Hal tapped his ring. A green construct of a jet materialized, sleek and glowing. “See? Fast, efficient, dramatic—total Hal Jordan style. You could learn a thing or two.”

“I don’t need to learn anything from you,” You muttered. His eyes flicked to the construct. “Except how to be reckless.”

Hal leaned closer, voice dropping in that teasing cadence that always seemed to both annoy and intrigue Batman. “Reckless? Me? Never. I’m fearless. Bold. Handsome. Charismatic.”

Your jaw tightened. “You’re loud.”

Hal’s grin widened dangerously. “And you’re grumpy. We’re really nailing this hero pairing thing, huh?”

For a moment, the tension was thick enough to cut with a Batarang. You stepped closer, the shadows of his cape falling over Hal, and there was something almost intimate in the way they circled each other. “The mission,” You said. “Focus on the mission.”

“Oh, I am focused. On the mission… and on making sure my favorite Dark Knight doesn’t fall asleep in his own fortress of gloom.” Hal winked.

Your eyes narrowed. You should have turned, walked away, ignored the tease. Instead, you leaned slightly forward. “You really don’t fear me at all, do you?”

Hal shrugged, flashing that infuriating grin. “Fear? Nah. Respect? Maybe. A little awe? Possibly. But fear? Not in my vocabulary. Besides…” He floated up a few feet, hovering just out of reach. “…you’re kind of fun when you’re annoyed.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, fighting the faint heat creeping up your neck. “Fun is not a tactical advantage.”

“Sure it is,” Hal said smoothly, floating down again until he was only a foot away. “It keeps people guessing. Adds… tension. Chemistry. Drama.”

Your lips twitched, almost betraying the ghost of a smile. “Chemistry doesn’t save lives.”

Hal leaned closer again, voice dropping to a mock-serious whisper. “Sometimes it does. Depends on your definition of ‘saving’.”

You straightened, voice cold but low. “Stay on the plan, Hal. Or—”

“Or what?” Hal countered, arms folded, still smirking like he knew exactly how far he could push. “You gonna swoop down, broody and angry, and lecture me? Or—”

“Or,” You growled, “we succeed because I lead and you follow.”

Hal gasped theatrically. “Follow? You wound me, Bats! I thought we were partners!”

“We are,” You said, finally allowing a hint of a smirk. “Partners with limits.”

Hal chuckled, clapping once. “Fair enough. I like limits. They make the… tension more interesting.”

You glared, and Hal winked.

Somewhere in orbit, high above a planet teetering on chaos, the two of them prepared to fight evil—though neither could fully tell if the other’s jabs were tactical critiques or flirtatious sparring.

Either way, the Watchtower had never been more electric.