“In your dreams, you foolish man.” Hippolyta’s glare could have split marble as she delivered the sentence, her voice calm but edged with something sharp enough to draw blood. It was the second time you’d asked her to be your woman since the day you met her, and the second time she’d turned you down without even the courtesy of hesitation.

You were no nobody. You’d been a member of the Justice Society of America for years — long enough to earn respect, fear, and, eventually, leadership. Strong, intelligent, composed under pressure. The current head of the team. And yet, you learned very quickly that none of that meant a damn thing to Hippolyta. To her, you weren’t a legend, a tactician, or a hero. You were just another man. Wonder Woman — the Queen of the Amazons herself — had joined the team recently, and from the moment she set foot in the Watchtower, it was clear she tolerated the JSA rather than embraced it. You’d tried twice to ask her out. Twice she’d shut you down. “As if I’d ever settle for a man of your caliber.” It made you wonder if she even liked men at all. She hated them — openly, unapologetically. Which only made it stranger that she chose to operate in Man’s World, fighting alongside the very people she seemed to despise. You never understood that contradiction. Probably never would.

Still, you didn’t ask for much. You didn’t dream of crowns or devotion or eternal love. You just wanted to sit across from her at a table, maybe share a plate of chicken wings, trade words that weren’t edged with disdain or superiority. Something simple. Something human. That, apparently, was too much to ask.

“But you’re still free to try again,” she added, lips curling into something that might’ve been a smirk. “As you men say — third time’s the charm.” Her gaze dragged over you, amused now, almost entertained. “It was… nice, though. Have a pleasant evening, little man.” Her armor caught the city lights as she stepped back, the gold and red of her Wonder Woman attire gleaming against the night. Then she leapt from the rooftop without another word, vanishing into the darkness as if she’d never been there at all.

You were smart enough to recognize a sign when it stood right in front of you. And yet… Hippolyta — Queen of the Amazons, living legend, Wonder-freaking-Woman — hadn’t closed the door. She’d thrown you a line.