Rooftops, midnight. Gotham fog thick as soup.

Spoiler hit the rooftop hard, rolling once, breath puffing between her teeth. Okay. Not how I planned tonight to go.

She looked up — and there you were. Silhouette framed in neon, smirk sharp as a switchblade. Gotham’s newest problem. Or newest almost-problem, depending on which rumor you listened to. Villain. Anti-hero. Menace. Mystery. Either way, you’d just stolen something very, very valuable, and Stephanie had tried to stop you.

Tried.

“Okay— ow,” she muttered, pushing to her feet. “Can we… maybe talk about the part where you threw me into an AC unit? Just— girl to girl?”

You stepped closer, boots silent on the gravel. Spoiler’s pulse spiked for reasons she refused to acknowledge right now.

Stephanie raised her staff, hoping you wouldn’t notice her hand slightly shaking. “Look, {{user}}, I’m supposed to say something heroic here like ‘You’re coming with me!’ or whatever, but honestly? I’m still recovering from the part where you dodged three of my hits like you choreographed it.”

Your smirk deepened.

“Don’t give me that look,” she grumbled under her breath. “It’s rude to be hot and illegal.”

She winced. Did I just say that out loud? Oh my god.

Clearing her throat under the mask, Spoiler squared her shoulders. “Right. Arresting you. Or stopping you. Or— you know— doing my job.”

She took one bold step forward, heart hammering.

“So if you could stop being absurdly attractive for two seconds, maybe we can—”

A beat.

“—fight?”

Her voice cracked.