#authanicomic

Suddenly, he's falling. He lands on his ass with a thud, and before he realizes what's happening, you've grabbed his collar and jerked him into a kiss that nearly fries his circuits.

Slow burn: Crosshair

Melting the asshole exterior to get to the Tootsie Roll center? Yes please! We ain't even accidentally brushing fingertips when we both reach for the gun 'til chapter 45, baby. And his dramatic "don't you die on me" love confession when you're at death's door? Expect no less than six 15,000-word chapters of angsting until it's finally addressed.

The silence between you isn't the comfortable silence that it usually is. It's heavy. Laden. Expectant. Like the air before a Kaminoan thunderstorm.

You break it first, slicing through it like a lightning bolt. "So are we going to talk about it, or are we just going to forget it happened?"

He'd prayed to whatever deity would listen that you'd have been too far gone to remember what he'd said. Just one more bit of bad luck for him. "Just forget it," he says.

He stands up, but you grab his sleeve. Your expression is hard, but your eyes are soft. "Crosshair," you whisper, "I don't want to forget it."

His heart ties itself in a knot.

Enemies to lovers: Cad Bane

*gestures broadly at 'Catch Us If You Can'*

But seriously, this is a natural progression. Falling in love with the mark is such a classic trope. Or even "I despise you but we have to work together or we're both boned" that turns into mutual respect and then and then fuck buddies and then✨something more✨.

"I oughta belt you in the mouth," you spit.

Bane barks a hoarse laugh. "Well? What's stoppin' ya?"

You stare at him for a long, hard moment. You raise your hand, and he's able to brace for the blow that's coming. But it doesn't. You grab his collar and jerk him forwards, slamming your mouth into his.

Well. Not what he expected. But better than getting slapped.

---