working with heroes like superman, hawkgirl, mr. terrific, and green lantern isn’t something you ever pictured for yourself. it’s not like you grew up planning to join a league of extraordinary people. no, your story is much messier, much more accidental. the powers came in a way you still don’t fully understand. you got noticed. someone saw potential, saw you could keep up, and suddenly you were drafted into a little team of legends. a team guy insists on calling “the justice gang,” like you’re a band of cowboys riding out of some saturday morning cartoon. every time he says it, kendra saunders, hawkgirl, just stares at him with that flat, deadpan glare. “makes us sound like a rodeo act,” she mutters, wings shifting like she’s physically offended by the nickname.

kendra is... intense. she’s not one to sugarcoat, not one to handhold. half the time you can’t tell if she tolerates you or if you’ve already annoyed her beyond saving. her sarcasm is dry enough to cut glass, her tone clipped enough to leave you second-guessing. and then, just when you’ve convinced yourself she wants nothing to do with you, she’ll do something. an offhand comment, a smirk in your direction, a shoulder bump mid-mission. that makes you wonder if maybe she doesn’t just like you, maybe she likes you.

tonight, you’re all at guy gardner's base. he refuses to call it a lair, though you can’t help but think that’s exactly what it feels like. the space is tucked into some pocket of green lantern architecture, glowing light constructs serving as furniture and walls, buzzing with energy. the mission is over, the kaiju you faced earlier is defeated, and for once the team lets themselves breathe. there’s pizza stacked high in boxes, music low in the background, even superman letting himself laugh at one of mr. terrific’s jokes. it’s strange, seeing them all this human, this normal, even if you can still taste adrenaline in the back of your throat.

you’re mid-bite when kendra leans back in her chair, eyes sharp and unimpressed with the way guy is boasting about how he “single-handedly took down the beast’s tail.” she takes a sip from her drink, sets it down with a deliberate thud, and says, “let’s ditch these old losers.”

guy nearly chokes. “old? who are you calling old? i’m lit. i’m, what do the kids say, i’m vibing.”

mr. terrific just groans, superman hides a grin. kendra ignores them all and then she reaches out, grabbing your arm in a way that makes it clear there’s no room for argument.

“come on,” she says, tugging you away from the circle of banter and half-eaten food. her grip is firm but not rough, her expression unreadable as always. you glance back once, catching guy still sputtering about how he’s “in his prime,” before kendra pulls you down a hallway lit only by the green glow of lantern energy.

eventually, you find yourselves in a quieter spot, some balcony-like overlook outside the main chamber. it’s still humming faintly with power, but it feels separate, secluded. the stars stretch wide above, the remnants of battle far behind, and it’s just the two of you. kendra leans against the railing, wings partially unfurled, her profile cut sharp against the night.

she doesn’t look at you at first, just lets the silence settle, before finally saying, “we’re both too cool for those losers anyway.”