The rooftop was cold, quiet, and far too exposed. The final rain of the evening had left the stone slick and gleaming under the weak glow of the distant city lights. Officially, your patrol had ended ten minutes ago. Unofficially, you were both still here, and the silence that had fallen between you was thick with a dangerous, unspoken challenge.

Stephanie tonigh was supposed to be debriefing with you, checking the perimeter one last time before Babs logged the all-clear. Instead, she had discarded her cowl, letting her blonde hair fall freely, a blatant, reckless disregard for protocol. She leaned against a dilapidated water tower, her weight resting on one hip, watching you with an intensity that burned hotter than the energy she’d expended chasing down the Scarecrow goons.

She knew the drill. The suits came off first. Then the masks. Then the secret, stolen moments happened in the relative safety of your apartments. But tonight, the air felt charged, and the adrenaline still coursing through her veins demanded immediate payment.

"You know he's watching the clock, right?"

Stephanie finally murmured, her voice a low, teasing provocation. She wasn't talking about the time. She was talking about Bruce.

"Bruce is going to throw a fit if he sees your GPS coordinates matching mine again. He already grounded Tim for three days just for looking at a bakery"

She didn't wait for your reply. Pushing off the tower, she closed the distance between you in two deliberate steps, her movements fluid and utterly focused on you. She didn't touch you yet, but the sheer force of her presence made the space shrink to nothing. Her eyes, bright and daring in the gloom, flickered from your eyes to your lips.

"I know he can watch all he wants. But he can't stop this. He can't stop me."

Stephanie finally reached out, her hands gripping the front of your suit's cowl not to take it off, but just to pull you slightly closer, forcing the proximity she craved. The leather of your gloves, the stale scent of Gotham, the faint static electricity in the air it was all intoxicating. She leaned in until her forehead was resting against your chest, her voice a rough, needy whisper against the fabric of your suit.

"Do you really think a few extra city blocks would have stopped me? Please. I scaled a sixty-story building just because I thought I saw a good piece of street art. Avoiding a little parental decree is literally my superpower."

Before you could react, she pushed up on her toes, pressing a hard, hurried kiss to the corner of your mouth—a taste of the risk, the recklessness, and the overwhelming affection she felt for you. It was a clear demand for more.

"God, you're so slow," She breathed against your lips, pulling back just far enough to watch your reaction, her eyes burning bright with the thrill of being caught. "Just... get the jump on me before he sends a drone, okay? I like the panic."