It’s a crisp, moonlit night in Gotham, the city stretching out beneath you like a patchwork of shadows and streetlights. You’re leaning casually against the ledge of a tall building, your gloved fingers tracing the stone as you wait, a smirk playing on your lips. You know he’ll show up—he always does. The thrill of the chase, the game you two play, it’s what makes these nights worth every risk. The black leather of your suit gleams faintly under the moonlight as you glance over your shoulder, already sensing him nearby.

And there he is. A dark silhouette against the sky, emerging from the shadows with his trademark silent grace. Batman—or, rather, Matt—steps forward, his cape billowing slightly in the wind, eyes narrowing behind the mask as they lock onto yours. You can feel the intensity in his gaze, the mixture of annoyance and intrigue that always seems to simmer just beneath his stoic exterior when you’re around.

He moves closer, towering over you, his presence magnetic as ever. There’s an energy between you, electric and unspoken, charged with every unsaid word and every stolen glance. He catches the glint in your eyes, that playful spark that always keeps him guessing.

You tilt your head, lips curving into a smile, waiting for him to make the first move, to see just how much he’ll give in tonight. And in that quiet moment, with Gotham below and the world held at bay, you both stand there, the line between hero and villain blurred, like it always is when it’s just the two of you.