Another day, another night of deliveries

Another night, another round of questionable Gotham deliveries. The pizza guy sat in his dented car outside the shop, forehead resting against the steering wheel as he prepared himself mentally.

“Okay,” the pizza guy murmured. “Just one simple delivery. Don’t get hard even if they have their cleavage out.”

Cleavage was normal. Plenty of customers had it, whether on purpose and accident. But ever since his rumps with Supergirl and Mera, it felt harder to control his reactions to everything woman-related. He never embarrassed or got hard, but afterward, his libido spiked and he had to rub one out. He looked at the night sky.

“Gotham, please. I’m begging you.”

He tapped the app on his phone to double-check the route. Typical townhouse. Residential neighborhood. Late-night order by a sultry sounding woman naked Karen. Nothing too suspicious and, well, just because it was a woman didn’t mean anything. She could have a boyfriend or husband for all he knew.

His thumb hovered over the GPS when he noticed a flashing red banner across the top of the screen:

LIVE BREAKING NEWS — METROPOLIS UNDER ATTACK

“Oh great,” he muttered, assuming it was yet another giant robot or an alien god with a name consisting entirely of consonants. Here was the thing with Metropolis: the villains there tended to be national issues. As in, they caused earthquakes that regularly reached Gotham City. Hence it was important for everyone to know and why the pizza guy had that reaction.

He opened the livestream. “Oh.”

Low and behold, Supergirl was on screen. Not just on screen—fighting for her life.

The footage shook as the cameraman ducked behind a squad car. Several Metropolis PD cruisers were crushed, tossed like toys. Cars were overturned. Concrete chunks still floated midair like frozen debris.

At the center of it all stood Supergirl, chest rising and falling, strands of blonde hair sticking to her forehead, her cape torn at the edge. She looked hot, even while hurt. He bit his bottom lip. Was he weird for liking the battle-hardened women?

Facing her was a villain named…Magna-Might. A metahuman who could manipulate gravity fields. A walking natural disaster. Every time he lifted his hand, the asphalt bent like liquid. He slammed a vortex of electricity-like gravitational energies forward.

Supergirl staggered and threw her arms forward to catch the orb. She couldn’t let it strike the building behind her, it’d demolish it. Her boots dug trenches into the ground and she grunted and pushed back.

The pizza guy leaned toward his phone, worried. “Come on, Supergirl… you’ve got this.”

She clapped her hands and the gravity ball ceased. She tried to charge, but Magna-Might gestured his palms downward and gravity spiked. The mighty Kryptonian crashed to one knee. Piping rose from the nearby streets, hundreds of them in number, and they hurled toward her.

“Kara—” He jerked, catching himself. “Supergirl! Come on!!”

Supergirl lifted her head. Her eyes weren’t on Magna-Might. They weren’t even on the officers yelling for her to retreat.

They were on the camera.

On him.

The pizza guy blinked. The way she stared, the way her focus sharpened…

It was like she heard him.

He swallowed.

She heard him. Oh God, she heard him.

Supergirl smirked. A tiny, exhausted, stubborn little smirk accompanied by reddening eyes. In one fell sweep, she lasered away every single pipe. Hundreds of pieces of metal scrap, falling like rain around her.

Magna-Might flicked his wrist, trying to push her back down—but she didn’t budge. Her boots lifted off the ground.

He tried again. Harder.

Supergirl kept rising.

BOOM.

Heat vision again, straight across the street like a lance of sunrise. Magna-Might barely shielded himself before Supergirl rocketed forward, fists glowing with kinetic energy guided by her momentum.

One punch. Two. A sweeping kick that cratered the pavement. The closer she got, the stronger the gravity got. It was why she had been struggling. Not anymore. A final uppercut that launched the villain thirty feet into the air before landing incapacitated at the feet of several stunned cops.

Dust settled.

Cheers erupted.

Supergirl hovered there, shoulders heaving, red cape fluttering. She then looked at the camera again. A breathless, proud little smile tugged at her lips and she even gave a little way. The smile and wave felt way too directed… way too pointed… to be coincidence.

The pizza guy stared.

“No way. No way that was for me.” He paused. “…right?”

Supergirl winked and after that, got to helping with the aftermath. She zipped about, forming light sonic booms, and aiding the firefighters and emergency workers. The news then cut to—

“Supergirl has just defeated Magna-Might. Now, considering the damages—”

He felt a little bad for the people of Metropolis. Gotham was a lot more brutal and grimey. Metropolis seemed surreal. Aliens could suck up their city or a literal planet-busting technology could arise. Somehow, none of that mattered. The pizza guy rubbed his face, grinning like an idiot.

Her smile stuck in his mind. Breathless. Dusty. Victorious. A little shy. She was adorable even after punching a metahuman into a crater.

He placed the phone on the passenger seat and pulled onto the next street, mood soaring.

Tonight felt like a good night.

The drive to the townhouse took only minutes. Gotham’s usual late-night ambience was alive: flickering streetlamps, distant sirens, the occasional raccoon fighting a trashcan like it owed him money.

He parked outside a neat, brick townhouse with a blue door and two little garden lights that valiantly tried to withstand Gotham’s gloom.

He stepped out, pizza bag in hand, and walked up the two steps. His thoughts were on Supergirl. ‘I-I mean, if she noticed me, she want to come back and…’ He flushed and imagine her lifting her skirt for him. Showing her panties and whispering…

“Wanna fuck?”

He shuddered. He took a few breaths before knocking. Knowing how jealous she got with Starfire last time, he sincerely hoped for a normal encounter. The door opened and he instantly understood that was not to be the case.

‘Fuck.’