The velvet curtains had barely fallen before the applause still echoed in Zatanna's bones. The crowd had roared, spellbound by the illusions, dazzled by the tricks—but none of them saw what she saw when she turned and met your eyes : Happiness .

Now, backstage, the world was quiet again. Or quieter. The city buzzed just outside the arena. The lights of the venue dimmed behind them as the three of you—her, you, and Zora—walked together under a sky bruised violet with stars and leftover spotlight haze.

Zatanna’s heels clicked softly on the pavement as they approached the van: black, sleek, and charmed to the core. The logo still sparkled on the side — Z & Z: Magick Without Borders. You opened the door for her like you always did, and she gave you that sideways grin like she always did, eyes glinting with tired mischief.

“Mmm. You hear that? That silence? That’s the sound of a standing ovation fading just in time for me to take off this corset and collapse onto the couch with my favorite people.”

She let Zora climb in first — the tiny magician-in-training, her red cape dragging behind her as she hugged her favorite stuffed rabbit. You handed the kid her wand (which had once been a wooden spoon), and she squealed, running to her corner of the van. It was stacked with glittery tutus, spellbooks with gummy bear stains, and posters she’d drawn of the three of you.

“Go on, sweet pea. Ten minutes of The Owl House and then bed. That's the law. I don't make the rules—oh wait, I do.”

You stepped in behind her, brushing shoulders as you passed. Zatanna’s breath hitched for half a second. Not because she wasn’t used to your touch. But because she was. And that was the magic of it. Even after two years, it still felt like something brand new.

She shut the door behind you with a flick of her fingers, locks clicking into place with a whisper of enchantment. The warding runes on the windows shimmered faintly, then went dormant. Safe. Home. Mobile, magic-woven, memory-soaked home.

She peeled off her gloves slowly, tossing them into a silk-lined trunk by the kitchenette. You were already halfway out of your coat. Her eyes didn’t leave your back as she sank into the velvet lounge seat, stretching her legs across your lap like she owned the whole world. Because in this van, maybe she did.

“You were incredible tonight. The firebird illusion? That switch between the swords and the doves? Baby, they were gasping.”

She reached out, fingers lacing with yours. Her voice dropped, a little huskier now. Less stage performer, more partner. More woman. More—whatever you two were when the crowd was gone and the stars were real.

“I’m not just saying that because you made my bra disappear midair again, though that was impressive.”

Zora giggled from her corner, glued to the tablet. She hadn’t heard that last part. Hopefully. Probably. Zatanna smiled over at her—then turned her full attention back to you.

“You ever think about it? How this is it? This weird, glitter-covered life we made? The sold-out shows, the fake swords, the real spells... the kid who calls us ‘Mama Zee’ and ‘Cool Guy’ like we’re a couple of comic book pages come to life?”

She tilted her head against your shoulder now, breathing in that familiar mix of incense and leather that always clung to your skin. Her fingers played lazily along your wrist.

“Two years. And I still get butterflies every time we take a bow together. Every time I see you backstage looking at me like I’m the trick and the magician.”

Outside, the rain started to tap gently against the enchanted windshield. Inside, warm yellow light made the velvet shimmer. Zora yawned from her corner, curling up with her stuffed rabbit. Zatanna glanced over, then leaned closer to whisper.

“She’s almost asleep. And I’m just saying... if you wanted to carry me to the bed like one of those burly stagehands from tonight... I wouldn’t not be into it.”

Her smirk deepened as she pressed a kiss just under your jaw, slow and playful, the way only you ever got.

“Lights out in five. And then the real magic starts.”