nothing can stop us,
not now,
I love you

"You didn't have to kill him." he tells her in an abandoned alleyway, panting from the distance they just ran.

"He was reaching for the phone." she retorts back, her lungs not nearly as weak as his.

He shuts up. He knows better than to piss her off right after a robbery, especially on a night like this.

"The Titans will know it's us."

She looks at him nonchalantly and shrugs. "I doubt it. They don't know we're working together yet."

Working, he thinks. Is that what you call this?

He knows better than to get attached. Especially to her. She was his partner, but he didn't dare trust her. They sleep in vacant houses, curled up against each other for no other purpose than to keep warm. And he was well aware she could stab him in the back at any given moment. But he knew she wouldn't. They were stronger together than apart.

"Let's find a place to crash before the cops show up." she says, already walking away.

You just killed a guy, he thinks. For telling you to freeze.

It doesn't faze her, or maybe it's because the 7-Eleven clerk was just one of many. Either way, he reckons she doesn't feel anything.

Blackfire turns once, as a precaution to see if he's still following her. She passes it off as looking for cops. Thunder booms overhead. Her black hair becomes slick with rain down her back. Jason shivers, his suit isn't made for Jump City's cold November.

Blackfire doesn't feel the cold. She pulls up her black boots that are slipping down her long, tanned legs. She floats up in the air, probably surveying the houses from above. Jason continues walking, wrapping his collar as much as he can around him. She lands down on the ground a couple feet ahead of him.

"I found an empty car, we can stay there until morning."

She lifts up her fist to form a starbolt to break a window, but he covers her knuckles with his hand, gently lowering it. He unlocks the car doors from outside easily with one of his many X-shaped tools. Opening the door, he lets her crawl inside first. She lies down in the back, squeezing her raven-black hair to get the moisture out. He follows, slamming the door shut, muffling the sounds of the street behind them. She takes off her long boots, warming up her feet with her hands.

"Don't you want to get out of those wet clothes, Red?" she smirks cockily.

He scoffs. "You wish."

She laughs, a wicked, forced laugh that sounds like it comes from the very tip of her lungs, almost hysterical.

She extends her legs across his lap and places her hands behind her head. He pretends not to notice that her her purple skirt has risen to an even more revealing mid-thigh.

"Couldn't have found a bigger car?" he asks her, his tone dripping with annoyance.

"Oh, relax. I'm not flirting, I'm just tired."

He wants to sleep desperately, to forget the images of the 7-Eleven clerk slumped behind the counter, his body still sizzling from the intense heat of Blackfire's starbolts.

"Are you aware of what you've done?" Jason asks her, because the question has been sitting on his tongue for an unbearable amount of time now. "He probably had kids, a wif-"

Blackfire's eyes narrow. "I don't see why you care. It's not like you knew him. Don't pretend you haven't killed people, Red."

He doesn't reply. He has, and he's not about to lie. But only rapists, kidnappers, murderers, scum who deserved to be killed. Never innocents. It's silent for a long time in the car, the only noise provided by the rain hitting the windows.

"Red," she starts, her voice thick with a certain kind of something. "Red, look at me."

He doesn't.

She climbs up on her hands and knees, her almond-shaped eyes hooded and sultry. "Don't be mad."

One look in those feline violet eyes, and he knew he was done for. How could he stay mad at her? This was falling, falling, and at it's simplest, it was nothing. So when she presses her lips to his and bites (because this is Blackfire after all), he kisses her back. And he regrets it almost immediately.

"What are you d-"

She shuts him up with another burning kiss, that sets fire to his insides. Her mouth falls suddenly, leaving open kisses along his neck, a pathway lit by lips like smoldering coals. His fingers fall, into the tangles of her hair, the crooks of her arms, the scars on her thighs. It doesn't take long, slipping purple laced panties down endless legs, throwing black boxers somewhere in the car blindly.

Whether it was the adrenaline or pent up desire (because he'd dreamed about her a few times before, and she was wearing far fewer items of clothing with that irritating smirk on her lips, and remembering this right now was detrimental to his already lacking self-control), Jason didn't know or care anymore.

And then Blackfire falls, all weight and no grace and no fear, and Red X's body caught her on the way down, and this was nothing to Jason.

Falling was easy, the way their chests are falling with heavy, charged breaths gasping from their mouths, the way she's falling over him and her hair falls over her and they fall into each other, an endless, boundless attachment to one another. The way the lightning strikes behind the horizon, the sky torn in ribbons of cloud-covered yellow.

This was watching Blackfire's body bend in fluid waves of ecstasy, this was nail-deep scratches along his back. This was 'yes, faster, oh, don't stop, right there, oh—oh, yes.'

And that is why falling is nothing for Jason, because he falls for Blackfire, and still thinks it is worth it when he shatters, in pieces along the ground.

She used to stay away from him, she used to vow to herself that she would never let him leave a mark on her, that she doesn't do anything gently or with caution or even with much thought. She could have never looked into his eyes the way she did, connecting with him on a plane of carnal entanglement of sex with no feelings attached.

She used to exercise this weariness, but that had all been before.

So now, she lets him kiss her, she lets him leave bitemarks over her body, she lets him take his time with her, because she can feel the beginnings of something bigger springing to life, not one manmade but a sudden creation, borne from the collision of their lips.

She remembers why she stays away from him, but disregards it all the same.

Author's Note: New favourite pairing, officially. I was inspired by a Bonnie and Clyde documentary I caught on TV a few nights ago.
Also, I don't own 7-Eleven, or t.A.T.u's song. I should probably mention that. (Keep it classy, Lola. Keep it classy.)