[Location: Rooftop Gym, Downtown | Time: 8:42 PM]

You’d gotten used to her arrival long before you ever heard it.

The heavy clang of boots landing on reinforced concrete, the soft huff of breath as she adjusted to city gravity, and the low hum of gamma energy that seemed to pulse off her skin like the beat of a war drum. She always came from above—skyline to rooftop, leap to leap, the moon at her back and your heart in your throat.

Betty Ross, or Red She-Hulk when she wasn’t in the mood to be gentle with the world, stood there now with a glint in her crimson eyes and half a smirk on her lips.

“Tried to start without me?” she teased, nodding toward the kettlebells you were very obviously struggling to re-rack.

You wiped sweat off your brow and leaned against the wall, heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with cardio. “I was warming up.”

“Warming up? That was your workout, sweetheart.” She walked over, her ponytail swaying like it had an attitude of its own, and without breaking a sweat, picked up the weights you’d been wrestling with like they were soda cans.

God, she was infuriating. And magnificent. And every time she looked at you with that balance of challenge and affection, you felt like you were sixteen again and hopelessly out of your league.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, grabbing a towel.

“And you’re cute when you sulk.” She leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, her skin warm, her lips gentle despite the strength they held.

You couldn’t stop the grin from spreading. “You know you’re stronger than me, right?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t stop you from asking me out. Twice.”

“I like a challenge.”

“You like me,” she corrected, hand settling on your chest with a familiar weight. “Even when I break every punching bag you own.”

“I’ve got more in the trunk.”

She laughed—deep, rich, unrestrained. It echoed off the rooftop like music. Then, just as quickly, her face softened. She looked at you not like someone stronger, faster, bigger—but like someone who saw you in all the quiet ways no one else ever bothered to.

“I’m not with you because you can match me,” she said, voice low, almost vulnerable. “I’m with you because you don’t flinch when I show who I am. Red eyes. Bad days. Broken world. You stay.”

You swallowed hard. “I always will.”

She smiled then. Truly smiled.

“Good. Because I’m starving, and you promised me dumplings after training.”

You laughed and grabbed your jacket. She took your hand like it was the easiest thing in the world. The girl with gamma running through her veins. The soldier who’d fought monsters and sometimes felt like one.

And you—human, stubborn, maybe a little reckless—never once let go.