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Bruce had found the first hand folded paper airplane on his bedside table in the late hours of a cold midwinter morning.
The night before had been trying.
There had been a League meeting and Jordan, who had just been back from space, had talked about the necessity of keeping on the lookout for a potential Arsilan invasion.
Hal's face had seemed particularly grim and his jaw tightened as he mentioned the new recruits of the Arsilan army : children.
The persistent low murmur of conversation that Bruce hadn't been able to eradicate from the conference room despite his best efforts had ceased at the word.
"If they're strong enough to carry a weapon, they're now considered as recruits." Hal was saying, his right hand clenching into a fist.
"Is that how you recruit your child soldiers before you send them on battlefields too ?" Green Arrow had drawled, looking pointedly at Bruce.
Another time, another night, Bruce may have let it go. He would have stared at the archer and probably not even given a damn. He usually couldn't care less about Ollie's shitty takes on kid vigilantes.
That night, however, Bruce had lunged for him across the table and Jordan had restrained him with a construct as Clark dragged Oliver Queen away from the table.
Bruce had been struggling all day with flashes of an exploding warehouse and his son's broken body.
He had yielded to the temptation of calling Jason in the afternoon, knowing he would get his answering machine. He needed to hear his son's voice and if Jason's outgoing message was all he could get, it was already a lot more than he had on the first anniversary of the boy's death.
He knew that the day was probably not a good one for Jason either. Maybe he should leave a message. Maybe Jason would like to hear his voice too.
Who was he kidding ? Jason still hated him, even if he had been taking steps toward his reintegration in the family. He should ask Alfred to call the young man. The two of them had always been on good terms. However, assuming Alfred had not already gotten in touch with him was certainly preposterous.
Bruce had called Dick instead. He let the phone ring for a bit and was about to hang up when Dick answered in a merry tone.
"Do you know where Jason is ?" he asked immediately before he could change his mind.
He didn't plan to go and find him, he just wanted to know that Jason wasn't dealing with intrusive thoughts alone.
"Hi Bruce, we haven't talked in a while, thank you for catching up with me. Always a pleasure." Dick answered in a cheerful tone.
"Dick." Bruce growled, and he didn't sound cheerful at all even if hearing from Dick made the world seem a little bit brighter.
"No, I don't know where the prodigal son is. Not that I would tell you. What the fuck, Bruce ?"
"Language." Bruce said automatically.
"Not Damian. Bruce, you realize you can't call us all in the hope we'll agree to hunt him down ?"
Bruce hadn't even admitted to himself he wanted to physically check on Jason until Dick's remark. It irritated him.
"For all you know your brother could be overdosing in a dirty alley in the Narrows so spare me your moral high ground."
There was a distant sound of broken dishes. Dick wasn't alone. Maybe he wasn't at his apartment. Or he got himself a new girlfriend. Bruce wasn't certain his son and Barbara hadn't gotten back together, though.
"You know very well that Jason doesn't do hard drugs. Also, politeness is kind of the basics when you ask for help."
"Are you going to help ?" Bruce asked.
He knew the answer before Dick could even formulate it.
"No. I'm sure you've convinced yourself that you're doing this for his own good but that's fucked up. Give him space. Even without the moral aspect to it, we both know that if Jason doesn't want to be found, you won't find him."
"I have to try." Bruce said quietly.
Dick had a point but he needed to see Jason, to check on him.
There was another sound of broken glass.
"No, you don't. That would be at the price of his trust and I very much doubt you can afford that." Dick said in a serious tone.
He also said something in a quieter voice that Bruce didn't quite catch but was probably not destined to him.
"He already doesn't trust me." Bruce pointed out.
"It's more complicated than that. Bruce, I know today sucks but you know he wouldn't want you to track him down."
A door slammed in the background. Dick sighed. Apparently, his day sucked too.
"Bruce, he'll be fine, okay ? Give it time."
It had already been years but Bruce grunted even if Dick could probably hear the hurt in his voice. The kid knew him too well.
After their discussion - Bruce had finally asked after Dick and reluctantly agreed to leave Jason alone for the day - , Bruce had spent a lot of time just looking at the ceiling and fighting off blood-stained memories.
In the evening, he had changed his patrol route hoping he would at least catch sight of Jason. Tim hadn't commented on it and Bruce had found some excuse to prevent Damian from patrolling. He wouldn't stand seeing Robin's colors that night.
Despite the change of route, he hadn't seen Jason. Back at the Manor, Bruce had tried to call him a second time without success before heading to the Watchtower.
He wasn't surprised when he lost the tenuous control he had over his emotions.
Diana had brought the meeting to an end as Clark escorted Oliver out of the conference room and Hal released Bruce from his glowing ties.
"You're okay ?" Hal asked him.
Bruce had barely seen him move but the Lantern now had his hand on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce nodded, lenses still up.
"I'll go try and prevent your superpal from killing Ollie, then." Hal had said as he reached for the door as everyone else left the room.
Diana had tried to talk to him and eventually handed over the reins to Clark. Bruce had dismissed both but he had stayed in the conference room a while longer, reflecting on Oliver's words.
Would Jason have had a better fate in the streets ? Should he have kept him from becoming Robin ? Had he been too young to say no to the uniform ?
Those were the questions he had been thinking about when the door of the conference room opened once again.
If Bruce was surprised by Hal's return, he didn't show it.
"Your notes." Bruce said, handing Hal's file on the Arsilan situation over to him.
"I didn't come back for my notes." Hal said quietly, perching himself on the table right next to Bruce.
"I'm fine. Just tired." Bruce said, brushing off his concern.
"Bruce. I know how much strength it took to hold you back."
Bruce had totally lost control and he was glad he hadn't managed to get access to Oliver because he doubted he would have stopped hitting the archer before at least severely injuring him. Hal didn't say it but he certainly knew it and the idea lingered in the air.
Bruce said nothing. If he was alone, he would have taken his head in his hands.
"Does it hurt ?" Hal asked.
Bruce stared at him.
"Don't tell me you don't have bruises under your suit. The ties were tight enough to break an armorless human's ribs."
"Thank you for your concern." Bruce said firmly.
"That's Batman way to tell me to get the fuck out of here if I don't want to end up pinned up against the wall ?" Hal asked, smiling.
Hal's smile, as irritating as it could be, had the same quality as Dick's cheerful voice. For a second, it made the world a better place to live in.
"Something tells me you wouldn't be adverse to it." Bruce sighed.
Hal laughed, throwing his head back and exposing his neck a bit more.
"True enough." he said. "Well, I'll leave you to it."
Hal was back to his feet and had turned around before Bruce could make up his mind.
"Wait." he said as Hal reached for the door's handle.
"Um ?" Hal asked, turning around and leaning against said door.
"Did you mean what you said ?" Bruce asked.
"About you throwing me against a wall ? No shit. Have you seen yourself ? Anyone would be all over that." Hal said. "Wait, you're serious ? My quarters or yours ?"
"Not private enough. My penthouse ?"
They hadn't touched each other until Bruce had locked the door behind them and promptly pinned Hal to it. And then they hadn't detached their hands from each other's bodies for a long time.
When he had woken up in the morning, Bruce had looked at his phone's screen. 11 a.m. He had never slept so well the night of Jason's death anniversary.
The sheets on the other side of the bed were cold and probably had been for a while. Hal hadn't said anything about it but he probably had to work in the morning.
Bruce had felt slightly disappointed by his absence. He shouldn't have. Hal was free of his movements and if he hadn't felt comfortable enough to wake Bruce up as he left, that would be perfectly reasonable.
Bruce had only noticed the receipt paper folded into a tiny plane after he had showered and dressed up, as he looked on the bedside table for his watch.
It looked like it had been written on. When he had unfolded the paper plane Hal had made for him, Bruce hadn't thought much about it but the shadow of a smile had graced his lips.
He had shaken his head at Hal's childishness and read the message.
"I had to go to work and didn't want to wake you. Try not to pin me up against the meeting room's wall tomorrow. See you."
It wasn't signed but the paper plane could stand for a signature in itself. Bruce refolded the plane and put it in the bedside table's drawer without a second thought.
When he found his phone, he sent Hal a message.
Normal people text each other
A good thing we're not normal people, then Hal had replied two hours later.
They had kept seeing each other after that, sometimes at the penthouse and sometimes at Hal's apartment. Hal kept leaving notes folded into paper planes for Bruce when he left early.
Bruce had kept them all, his bedside table's drawer slowly but surely becoming a miniature hangar for paper planes of various sizes, compositions and colors as Hal and Bruce's casual encounters evolved into something more long-term.
Sometimes, when Hal was in space for more than a few days, Bruce sat on the bed at the penthouse and unfolded the paper planes.
Bruce would unfold a plane and read the message on it even if he already knew which message went with which paper aircraft.
Some were almost poetic. Others were written in a telegraphic style.
The message on the blue post-it note folded in one of the smallest paper airplanes Bruce had seen, and he had seen a fair share of them in the last years, said "You look beautiful in the morning light."
They had only been sleeping with each other for a few months when Hal had left the folded note on the pile of Bruce's clothes in his room.
Hal had left first but he was apparently trusting Bruce to stay in his flat unsupervised. Bruce could have taken it as an invitation to snoop around but he had refrained to.
The bigger paper plane in thicker light green paper said "The Corps called. Should be back on Nov 16th week. Take care."
They had been seeing each other for about six months when Bruce had found it on the pillow Hal's head had been resting on the night before. Bruce had placed the folded note in the bedside table's drawer.
Bruce hadn't known what to give Hal for his birthday. They had been sleeping together for less than a year and he doubted he and Hal shared the same notion of an appropriate gift. And then Damian had mentioned wanting to learn how to make origami at dinner and Bruce had known what to get Hal.
Hal had looked quite concerned when Bruce had woken him up at dawn and dropped a professionally wrapped packet into his lap.
He had looked at it for a long time before daring to pull the ribbon and unwrap his gift.
"You offered me fancy paper sheets ?" Hal had said, transfixed, as he looked at Bruce.
"The ones with different shades on each side are kami. That's traditional Japanese paper to make origami. Tant paper creases more easily and has brighter colors. Washi is thinner but it comes in a lot of patterns - Hal ?"
He had yet to utter a word and his face was, for once, unreadable.
"They're not that fancy. Is - is something wrong with it ? I thought -" Bruce had started mumbling, fiddling with the sheet.
Hal reached for Bruce's face and kissed him softly.
"Only you." Hal murmured, rubbing his cheek against Bruce's tenderly.
Which would have been more comfortable without the stubble but Bruce didn't mention it. He had missed Hal.
The Lantern had unexpectedly come back from a months-long mission in the evening and asked if he could crash at the penthouse. Bruce had cleared his schedule to stay with him.
"C'mere, sweetheart." Hal said, his voice still rough with sleep.
He proceeded to hug Bruce tightly for long minutes before he relaxed his grip on him.
Bruce had looked up at his lover only to realize Hal had fallen back asleep.
"I love you." Hal had scrawled on one of the paper planes with a marker, the little beige one with orange arabesques, six months later.
They hadn't even said the words yet. Love was in the way they looked at each other, in the way they talked and touched and argued. They hadn't felt the need to make it explicit until then.
At that moment, Bruce had known that Hal had downplayed the instability of the sector he was being sent in for back-up.
Right before he didn't give them any sign of life for three months. Bruce had been so furious when he had come back. Furious and relieved.
"Hal." he had growled, walking to him as Hal's return interrupted a League meeting.
"I wasn't sure… I couldn't…" Hal had stumbled upon his words.
He looked a bit battered and bruised but very much alive. Bruce had stood up to meet him. He had extended a hand to Hal.
"Good to know you're alive."
Hal had refused the handshake and gone for a half-hug. It was about as affectionate as they could get here if they didn't want the League to know.
They had stayed at the penthouse that night.
Hal had looked for lube in Bruce's bedside table and opened the wrong drawer - the one who had been transformed into a small aircraft hangar.
He immediately recognized the paper airplanes - the first one, the last one and all those in between.
"Hal ?" Bruce called from the other side of the bed.
Hal had used the ring to tie him to the bed. He let his construct disappear and Bruce sat next to him. He tensed a bit when he noticed which drawer Hal had opened.
"Bruce. You've kept all of them ? Even the ones I made with receipts, torn envelopes and post-it notes and who knows what else ?" Hal asked, his voice tight. "Those I made at the beginning of our… when we started dating ?"
Bruce wrapped his naked body around Hal's and let his chin rest on Hal's shoulder.
"I love you too." he said against Hal's ear and he gently closed the drawer shut.
Hal turned around to smile at Bruce and pushed him against the bed once again.
As Bruce's paper planes collection grew, it had to be moved.
When Hal had moved into the Manor, so had Bruce's precious collection.
He had relocated the cherished pieces of folded paper to a large box he chose to keep under their bed.
After Hal had come back from Ferris one night, he had found a paper plane with a slightly different design than his own creations on his bedside table.
Bruce was already in bed, reading a Wayne Enterprises report. Hal threw him a perplexed glance as he started pulling his clothes off.
"You know that the goal is to leave a message you can't deliver in person ?" he said as he grabbed the paper plane.
Bruce had used textured grey paper to make it. It wasn't as small as some of the ones Hal had made but it was still a little one.
Hal found the gesture oddly moving.
"I noticed." Bruce said, just as Hal unfolded the elegant paper.
"Oh fuck." he murmured, his hand covering his mouth.
"I wanted to see your face for this one." Bruce said, putting his report down.
Hal was quite certain he hadn't been reading it.
"So ?" Bruce asked, caressing Hal's naked shoulder.
Hal had yet to say anything. Bruce kissed his neck.
Hal's body reacted before his brain and he pulled Bruce into a kiss, putting years and years of feelings into it. As their kisses and caresses became more and more heated, Hal pushed Bruce away softly.
"Just wait for a minute. Maybe take off your shirt too ? I'll be right back." Hal said, kissing Bruce's nose before he rose from the bed and went to Bruce's desk. He looked through his collection of fancy paper in the left drawer, selected thick paper with a green hue and grabbed a pen on Bruce's desk to write a single word on it. He then proceeded to fold the paper into a small aircraft he brought back to Bruce.
Bruce opened it religiously even if he must have known what Hal's answer would be.
"Yes ?"
"Yes. Did you think I would say no ?" Hal asked, taking Bruce's hand in his.
"It crossed my mind." Bruce said, kissing Hal's knuckles one by one.
"I've known for certain that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you when I realized you'd kept all my notes." Hal admitted, his free hand wandering on Bruce's chest. "So I had time to adjust to the idea. Okay, enough talking. We're wearing way too many clothes, let's work on that." Hal said, and he reached for Bruce's belt.
Bruce's hands closed on his and Hal looked perplexed for a second.
"Let me put those two in a safe place first." Bruce said, running a hand through Hal's hair and showing him the two abandoned paper airplanes they had almost crushed with their bodies.
Hal grabbed them and threw them on the bedside table before turning back towards Bruce.
Bruce looked at the paper planes as they landed before Hal claimed his attention again.
It was funny how life could give insignificant things so much meaning.