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Chapter Text

Everyone assumes Batman is the smartest in the Justice League, and for good reason.

Even though he was a founding member who then formally joined later, everyone knows he’s at the heart of the group and the brains behind everything: battle plans and maneuvers, contingency plans, and nifty gadgets that help people in a pinch. People trust Batman, not inherently because he’s the sweetest guy around like Supes. He’s usually hiding something from you, but much to Hal’s begrudging respect, it’s because it’s usually for the best.

Here’s the thing: Hal Jordan knows Batman’s identity. Batman is Bruce motherfucking Wayne. The billionaire Playboy turned DILF philanthropist. That’s the guy that dresses up as a bat and beats people up.

Hal, in comparison, is not consistently recognized as the sharpest tool in the toolbox, much less the toolshed that is the League, but he’s pretty damn smart in his own right.

Sure, he struggled a bit in school. He had a hard time paying attention. He knew what he wanted to study, what general knowledge to hold onto, and was smart enough to figure out what was enough to get by with a passing grade. You can’t be a pilot without a solid educational foundation.

(If audiobooks and YouTube were a thing back then, he knows he would’ve been unstoppable.)

That’s the thing; he’s got a slightly short attention span. It’s longer than Barry’s, but that’s not even a fair comparison. Hell, Killowog has scolded him multiple times for playing ping-pong with his constructs in meetings he called for himself. 

Suffice to say that Batman isn’t exactly pleased about that lack of attention.

Which is what brings Hal to his remarkable conclusion right now. He, Hal Jordan, is a fucking genius.

A short attention span means when he’s back planetside, he has to learn his news in brief, easily digestible ways, such as TikTok and Twitter. And you know who trends a bunch on those sites? Brucie Wayne.

Yeah, he spends most of his time on those apps listening to or reviewing summaries of famous stories that some rando posts and abridges from Air & Space Magazine. Still, every once in a while, Brucie Wayne does something so outrageous that news of him ends up on his For You Page. 

The man is ditzy, stupid, and rich but well-meaning. Last week, the man had a new yacht made with the latest shipbuilding technology provided by Wayne Enterprises, which he aptly named Global Warming to bring awareness to rising sea levels… and then likely christened every surface of with the gaggle of models seen by his side from the photos.

Was it well-meaning? Yes.

Was it stupid? Also yes.

Brucie Wayne’s move is the equivalent of Kim Kardashian and her newly launched bras with built-in nipples so that one will “always look cold” despite rising temperatures.

What is it with rich people bringing awareness about global warming in the most inane manner?

On that note, knowing the Wayne family is like knowing the Kardashians; if you don’t know who they are and what they do, you at least vaguely know what they look like- and vice versa. The fact that Oliver tells old stories about the guy so often is another thing; it’d be hard not to remember the man who drunkenly kissed the mayor. And on top of that, Brucie Wayne is comically attractive. With his broad shoulders, smooth voice, tall figure, and wildly entertaining nature, resisting him as a celebrity crush is futile. The fact that the man is a benefactor of The League doesn’t help his heart either.

So mix a handsome ditz with a heart of gold, and you get an honest-to-God, real-life himbo. And the internet loves himbos. Hal would know. The other night, he saw over a hundred edits and videos of Bruce Wayne on his recommended page. 

The way K-pop stans can recognize idols by their facial features, fingertips, or their hair color in specific lighting is the way Hal Jordan concludes that Batman is Bruce Wayne.

He recognizes the gorgeous lips of the man currently scolding him for currently not paying attention. Once he notices that, it’s easy to see everything else.

“Lantern. Is there something more important than a meeting discussing the allocation of support to victims in the newest attack?” Batman’s– Brucie’s sarcasm is biting and harsh, but the velvety undertone of his natural voice is definitely there, sending a rush of butterflies through Hal’s stomach. 

“No,” Hal replies, drawing the word out. He so badly wants to slam his hands on the table, jump up and down like a lunatic, and rip Batman’s cowl off his head- probable safety precautions be damned!

“Well, focus.” The billionaire sneers. “Just because I often question your capacity to keep up does not mean you shouldn’t try to.”

Well, fuck that guy. Dreams are crushed. Daydreams are fanned away with a metaphorical giant green construct of a hand. Bruce Wayne, the Batman, is a dick! So caught up in his revelations, Hal forgot that he almost hates the guy.

He vaguely remembers Bruce Wayne’s background– but dead parents be damned. He’s not getting pity points from Hal here.

“Fuck you, Br–” Hal almost reveals the man’s identity but quickly saves it, “–atman! You’re so stuck up, Spooky.” 

Hal can see the twitch of Batman’s eye lens, no doubt caused by his momentary surprise at the scare. Whether it’s because of that or not, Batman just growls before backing off with a muttered comment about “Childish behavior.”

The rest of the meeting goes smoothly. Or at least, Hal thinks it does. He can’t take his eyes off Bruce for the rest of their time together.

Seriously, now that he knows, he can’t unsee it. Regardless of whether or not Bruce Wayne is underneath that mask (he totally is), it’s in his nature to annoy Batman like right now, where he’s still sitting in his seat despite the League meeting called to a close.

It’s not that he doesn’t see the worried stares of Green Arrow and Flash when they leave the room, but he’s too excited at the prospect of getting in Batman’s head with this newfound information.

Batman always stays behind unless there’s urgent business in Gotham or he doesn‘t want to deal with everyone, but it seems today is the foremost one. He bets it’s because of the almost-slip-up earlier.

As soon as they are alone in the room, Hal excitedly turns to Brucie, previous ire forgotten.

“So, Brucie Wayne, huh? Never woulda guessed, Spooky.” Hal leans back in his chair, arms behind his head with a leg crossed over the other in a show of faux confidence and calm.

“What are you playing at, Lantern?” Batman’s lips are pulled into a frown, and his tone is searching, prodding– like he’s trying to see if Hal is joking or genuinely knows.

“Nothing.” Hal raises his hands in mock surrender to show he means no harm. “Look, the code of capes, masks, and cowls: I won’t tell anyone your civilian identity.” He smiles. “I’m just letting you know that I know so that you know I’m the smartest in the League.”

“What are you talking about?” Batman applies the same tactic as earlier.

“Well, you’re the smartest, I digress– so maybe I’m the second smartest, but finding out your identity? C’mon Brucie, give me some credit, it’s pretty impressive.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But not because I’m wrong, right?” Hal knows he’s being a little shit, but it’s just payback.

“Lantern.”

“Alright. Alright.” Hal smiles at the man, thinking about the implications of Batman and Brucie being the same person. There’s a lot of respect found. “I’ll back off, but I have to admit, I’m surprised by it. I mean, the Brucie Wayne. I never would’ve guessed.”

There’s a pause as Brucie knows Hal will continue to speak.

“Except…” Hal grins, all too proud, “I just did.”

Brucie sighs, his hand meeting his head in what would’ve been a gesture to sweep his hair back, but he swishes against the smooth surface of the cowl. The frown and slight twitch of displeasure at the corner of his mouth are enough for Hal to recognize that it’s a silent question.

“It was your lips that gave it away,” Hal says, mouth moving faster than his mind or self-preservation instincts. Knowing that he’s talking to the playboy makes it harder for his instincts to detect danger. “I’d recognize those gorgeous lips anywhere, Brucie.”

“Bruce,” is what the other supplies, his voice stern. ”Brucie is also a persona. It’s just Bruce.”

With that, Batman presses something to the side of his cowl before slipping it off.

“Well, goddamn, Spooky.” Hal drinks in the sight of Bruce Wayne in the Batman suit before him. The cowl and sweat slightly mat the man’s dark hair, there’s a slight flush to his cheeks from idents where the cowl rested, and his eyes are a stunning icy blue. “It’s nice to meet you, Bruce. I’m–”

“Harold Jordan,” because, of course, Batman knows his identity.

“Just call me Hal.” The Lantern just sighs and slips off his ring, his suit and mask fading away, before stretching out his hand. Bruce takes it, giving it a firmer-than-necessary shake.

“You were right, Jordan,” Bruce admits, and Hal can feel his heart soar. Gods, he wishes he had that as a recording so he could replay it to make up for every insult Batman hurled his way.

“Yeah? I mean, I’m surprised, but not really cuz–”

Whatever Hal is about to say is cut off when he sees Bruce smirk at him, teasing. “You are the second smartest in the League.”

He’s never seen that look on Bruce’s face before. Hal doesn’t know if he wants to punch this guy with his fists or lips, but before he can decide, Bruce has already slid his cowl back on and left the room.

He’s leaning towards fists.

Chapter Text

Hal Jordan isn’t head over heels for Bruce Wayne.

Just because the guy is hot and Hal respects his bravery and dedication doesn’t mean he’ll swoon over him like some lovestruck teenager.

Hal sighs, running his hand over his face in dismay as he ruminates over his words from earlier that afternoon, absentmindedly unlocking the door of the dingy apartment and throwing off his aviator jacket over a chair as soon as he’s inside.

“I’d know those gorgeous lips anywhere, Brucie.”

He cringes as he remembers the words he haphazardly threw out. He told that to Batman , “The Big Guy!” Even if that weren’t bad enough, he said that to Bruce, not Brucie, Wayne– benefactor of the League.

Sure, Hal has always been a bit of a smooth talker. He’s great with everyone; his charm is literally universal, but for it to extend to Batman of all people!?

Truly, shooting-yourself-in-the-head-with-the-power-ring worthy.

Just because Bruce Wayne is hot does not mean Hal likes him. No way.

The man is obnoxious- he’s annoying, a total jerk.

Hal lies on the sofa, phone in hand, scrolling through articles about Brucie Wayne’s gossip and exploits. This man is seriously busy.

Brucie Wayne is Gotham’s Prince, the ditzy playboy billionaire with a tragic past. CEO of Wayne Enterprises, he inherited the role from his parents, both of whom died in a tragic shooting in Crime Alley with young Bruce as a witness.

He mysteriously disappeared from Gotham for a few years before coming back; grief seemingly washed away as he began to appear in the public eye once more as the clumsy but well-meaning and beloved Brucie Wayne. And boy, are there a lot of stories about that.

It’s funnier now to imagine Batman doing these things.

Bruce ‘Brucie’ Wayne Strips and Swims in Gotham’s Newest Hotel Fountain!
Hal imagines Batman with his cowl and a deep-set frown, still doing the same thing. A disbelieving laugh falls from his lips. He would pay good money (he doesn’t have) to see that.

Brucie Wayne Kidnapped Again: Believed Blindfolds During Kidnapping Were for the Gotham Guide Dogs Foundation Fundraiser Challenge!
Maybe Brucie Wayne is a little too dumb, Bruce. Hal is cheered up by the thought of Batman suffering from his self-imposed stupidity.

Bruce Wayne Calls Rival in Business Lex Luthor “Racist” For Hate Against Superman!
Hal wonders if Superman knows Batman’s identity. It’s kind and petty– he can definitely see Batman doing this.

Bruce Wayne Claims Batman Is Not Real
He needs to write a reminder to tell Batman that Brucie is too stupid.

Is Bruce Wayne Batman’s Biggest Hater? Why The Billionaire May Hate The Bat:
He wonders if Bruce found all this nearly as entertaining as he does because Hal can’t even remember why he was so upset earlier. “I mean… his level of self-criticism sometimes is its own superpower,” Hal sighs. “It must’ve been fun for him to bash and pick at a persona.”

Kiss And Tell: A Guide to Bruce Wayne’s Known Relationships
Eugh. Can’t compete with the Brucie Wayne charm.
Imagining Batman with the Brucie smile and voice is weird and offputting.

A Guide to Bruce Wayne: The Internet’s Beloved Himbo
The thought of Batman being called a himbo by most of the internet is as awesome as it is disturbing; incredibly!

Bruce Wayne’s Shocking Move to Finance Batman
Begrudgingly, he agrees that this was a smart move. No one would guess he was Batman if he hid in plain sight like this. Hal wonders if he would have come up with something like this if he had the same resources. He doesn’t like that his answer is an unsure “maybe.”

Bruce Wayne Superhero Fanatic: The Justice League’s Biggest Benefactor
Yeah, the guy is super clever. As long as he's picking up the tab for the Justice League coffee machine, Hal is happy.

Buzzfeed's Top 10 Craziest Bruce Wayne Stories From Family, Friends, and Staff
Hal feels an envious twinge in his heart. 

The billionaire is charmingly insufferable. Still, even though he knows Batman is Bruce, it’s hard to reconcile the man's identity with this. Then again, Batman has always been a hardass willing to sacrifice things for missions. He’s certainly not above creating a ditzy persona for his civilian self and acting as it for years just so that no one suspects him.

Hal sighs, just thinking about how stressful it must be.

Damn. Does Bruce ever take a break? He respects it. No wonder Bruce is always so neurotic– he’s constantly gotta have a stick up his ass; otherwise, he’d let a persona slip.

That paranoia is so annoying, though. Just because Hal understands it doesn’t mean he needs to like it.

Batman is so quick to assume the worst of someone. 

With the Green Lantern Corps, Hal has no choice but to work with a team or group. Even if he doesn’t always agree with Appa’s outdated and conservative mindset, he knows there’s merit in how the Corps does things. That doesn’t mean he’ll follow it– hell, he left the Corps at one point, but he respects it.

With Batman, though, it’s harder to respect it.

Maybe it’s because Batman is human, just like him. Appa Ali Apsa, most of the Lantern Corps of any color power ring, and most of the League… they’re all either aliens or inhuman in ability. Hal only has his ring’s powers. Sure, he has military experience and is a pretty damn-good boxer. Still, compared to super strength, eye lasers, phase-shifting, superspeed, and the natural ability to fly, Hal knows his place is with them, but it’s hard to feel like the cream of the crop. He doesn’t even have specialties with weapons other than knowing how to shoot a gun.

He feels a sense of camaraderie with Green Arrow and Batman, and he’s good friends with Ollie! He just wishes it could be the same with Bruce (even though Oliver hates the guy). Still, Hal sometimes agrees because the man has a no-good, very bad, incredibly annoying, and massive holier-than-thou-because-I-know-everything-about-anything-ever attitude. What’s worse is that the attitude is typically justified.

He constantly hides things– helpful information, and the worst part of it all is that it usually works out for the better. Hal is a go-getter. When he wants something done, he likes to do it himself. Hal’s like Bruce in that way, just not secretive. For Batman to not even allow him to do anything makes him feel a little pointless, like he’s only good as a universal ambassador- and even then, there are so many others who could take his place. Batman, though, is irreplaceable. 

Bruce Wayne has a lavish manor and billions of dollars.

As Hal looks up from his phone, he sees his “home:” a worn-down apartment with cracked walls, chipped wallpaper, posters of Elvis Presley and Rocky haphazardly tacked on to cover particularly rough-looking patches. He has old VHS tapes of Rambo: First Blood and Green Berets stacked on the washing machine in his kitchen and a Gun: Fun Guide magazine just next to a small collection of Playboys on the wooden counter. Hal doesn’t even think his kitchen has any food. There’s an old guitar in the corner of the room, reminding him he’s a ghost of who he used to be: a graveyard of wasted potential. 

Charming. Opulent, even.

Hal Jordan has a couple thousand dollars to his name, only has jobs on and off, and his power ring. He has at most ten contacts on his phone, fewer that he actually talks to, and even fewer who enjoy his presence. All he has is flying and being a Green Lantern.

While Bruce Wayne needs to navigate the no-doubt irritating issues arising from his Brucie persona, at least he has a life outside of his hero identity. 

He has a family. Bruce lost his parents but judging by the articles based around his wards and adopted children, at least he has something.

And isn’t that a thought? Spooky, of all people, a family man?

While Hal, the ever-screwing fuck-up needs to live with his mother’s death on his shoulders and Jack, his older brother’s, venomous words ringing in his ears. The loud traffic outside the window doesn’t drown out the sound of his quickly spiraling thoughts.

“You killed mom!”
“After you ran away, she spent her life worrying.”
“When has Hal ever given this family anything?”

Gods, maybe he’s not attracted to or disgusted by Bruce. Perhaps he just feels neutral and is driven by his inferiority complex.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

He doesn’t want to touch that can of worms with a ten-foot construct of a pole.

His brain goes there anyway because it hates him, just like everyone else in his life.

He continues scrolling, and the ordinarily uplifting article headlines instead just make him feel more inadequate. It’s no longer as fun.

Gotham City High School Pancake Breakfast Served By Billionaire Bruce Wayne Who Volunteered for Son Damian Wayne
Hal’s father didn’t live long enough to see him enter middle school, much less high school.

Bruce Wayne Singlehandedly Funds Gotham’s Drug Rehab Clinics
Hal doesn’t think he could do something so important himself. He knows he does things on a cosmic scale, but it’s hard not to feel small compared to this.

Gotham Viaduct Restoration Project Started by Bruce Wayne
Could he even do anything like this without the help of his ring? If he had all of Bruce’s resources, would he be nearly as good or kind?

Bruce Wayne’s Sudden Fixation With Hospitals: Three New Gotham Hospital Projects Unveiled!
He worriedly wonders what had occurred for the Bat to get all worked up like that. Is Robin okay? Did something happen? Hal can see Bruce showing his care in this manner. It must be nice to have billions to throw around like that.

Bruce Wayne Delivers Gifts To Gotham Orphanages Dressed As Santa: The Story Behind Bruce Wayne
Now, this is just sweet. This is something Hal would ordinarily swoon over, but in his once again soured mood, his thoughts are more along the train of how beloved and kind and generous Bruce is- both in and out of his personas- and how Hal will never be able to match up; never be able to be loved even a fraction as much.

Wayne Enterprises Unveils Sustainable Tech Solutions, Paving the Way for a Green Gotham
Bruce brings so much good into the world. What does he bring to the table, not as a Green Lantern but as Hal Jordan? Flirty, overused jokes and a nice tip for pretty bartenders on particularly lonely boring nights?

Bruce Wayne’s Philanthropy Provides Shelter and Support for Homeless in Gotham
Hal would make the excuse that he’s too busy off-planet to deal with things like this, but… 

Wayne Foundation’s Mental Health Awareness Campaign Gains Traction, Breaking Stigmas in Gotham
"Guess I should start a 'Green Lanterns for Mental Health' campaign or something. Can't let Bruce have all the spotlight, right?” Hal just gives a mirthless chuckle. As if. The Guardians on Oa can barely tolerate his attitude most days, no matter how helpful or well-intentioned he is. And even then, Hal would just be a big ol’ hypocrite. He can’t even get better by himself.

Wayne Enterprise’s Benefits: Every Employee’s College Debt Paid Off, and Scholarships Are Available for Continued Education!
“Wonder if I could get him to pay off some of my debts,” Hal mumbles, frowning despite the cheerful article. “Surely I should get something for being the… second smartest in the League.”

Capturing Moments: The Whole Wayne Family in Pictures

Hal doesn’t even click on that one. The Lantern just lets out a tired puff of air from between his lips and looks over to his face-down family pictures on his nightstand.

Ah, family. How he loves them yet is so utterly aggravated by them sometimes. 

He misses them.

He swipes out of the browser and enters his contacts, staring at his younger brother James “Jim” Jordan’s contact. The contact photo is of the two from an old family photo when his parents were still alive.

He’s too sober for this.

His stomach growls.

And hungry.

Hal slips his phone into his jeans, walks over to his crummy not-in-a-mansion kitchen, and lets out a low whistle when greeted by the sorry sight of his fridge. It’s empty, as expected.

Looks like he’ll walk to a bar tonight. He’s not trying to spend another 90 days in prison, but he desperately needs a drink. He’s not going to fly over (for obvious glowing green reasons), and he’s not trying to splurge on an Uber.

Sometimes, sacrifices must be made to enable this sort of behavior.

Hal treks to his favorite bar, ordering the same thing from the pretty waitress with her pretty smile: an Aviation American Gin with Pomp and Whimsy gin liqueur, Maraschino Luxardo, and lemon bitters. He quickly knocks back the violet drink in his highball glass.

Maybe it’s the flush of his cheeks in the warm glow of the bar, the way the waitress laughed extra sweetly at his flirtation, or the fact Bruce caused this whole mess, but Hal opens his phone back up to his browser and sees the billionaire’s handsome face. 

The article is about his Dior photo shoot, and as Hal drunkenly skim reads it, he’s surprised by a link at the bottom to a raffle for a day with Bruce Wayne for the launching ceremony of his new cruise: The SOS: Save Our Snow Cruise. The SOS Cruise will travel from Gotham, New Jersey, to Newfoundland, Canada, due to its proximity to the Arctic, then to Antarctica, where people will learn from climate change experts on and offboard about its impacts on ice caps and local conservation efforts.

Hal has had a shitty day and drunk him really wants a win right now. Besides, it’s not like he’ll actually win, right?

Clumsily entering all his contact information while seated at the sticky bar, he successfully donates money towards polar ice cap preservation as his entry ticket. 

As he stares at the terms and conditions and entry confirmation, he clicks the enter with a hiccuped, “Fuck it.”

Despite his admittedly intense fixation on the man and the slight hope of winning the raffle, Hal Jordan can confidently say he is not head over heels for Bruce Wayne.

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne needs to break his kill rule specifically to kill Hal Jordan.

Okay, he knows that’s a bit of a stretch, but gods above, he wants to wipe that irritating smirk off the man’s face! 

Other than that smug attitude, though, he severely underestimated the intelligence of the Lantern. He knew Hal was smart; you’d have to be smart to forge your own Lantern ring and get an aviation engineering degree, but still. The man is dangerous- not just because he knows Batman’s identity, but because it’s so easy to find out the rest of the Batfamily once someone becomes compromised.

Hal Jordan is a threat that needs to be taken care of, one way or another. If killing is off the table, he needs something that somehow makes him forget Bruce’s identity. How probable is it that Lucius can engineer a memory-eraser gun? 

The billionaire lets out an unhappy grunt as he zetas back into the Batcave, a frown on his face as he immediately rushes to the Batcomputer, updating Hal Jordan’s file. The man is more than an annoyance. He is a total threat to the carefully crafted identities of him and his loved ones.

When updating the threat level attached to the Lantern’s profile, Bruce logs a report of the incident and finds himself distracted when he remembers Hal’s flirtatious comment about his “gorgeous lips.” 

He isn’t sure whether or not he should log that and finds himself increasingly distracted by thoughts of the pilot. 

The pilot is reckless- a fearless man that makes him bold and sometimes brash— a wildcard in multiple ways, but he’s also brilliant and impressive in his many feats. While Bruce is not wholly trusting of the man (yet– he’s not wholly trusting of anyone), he cannot deny that he is glad Hal is on the team. That recklessness gets things done and leads to situations evolving in ways Batman had never even considered planning for.

Hal is just as stubborn as he is. Bruce respects it as much as he loathes it. Hal believes in the system. He knows there can be wrong but believes the system is sound. Bruce is smart enough to understand that a broken system- no matter how much good can be found- cannot be wholly safe if corrupt or unjust. While Bruce trusts Gordon, all cops are another matter. Hal is the equivalent of a space cop. It’d be hard-pressed for them to get along.

The Lantern is also too impulsive for Bruce’s liking. Seriously, the man can’t think five steps ahead at any given moment– maybe not even three steps ahead. It’s frustrating, annoying, inconsiderate, and whatever synonyms exist for those words. He goes into things with a half-cocked and laid-back attitude. One day, things will go wrong, and no amount of impulsivity will be able to fix that. 

It’s infuriating how nonchalant the pilot is, how often he’ll charge in headfirst. Bruce has never been able to do things impulsively. He needs to have control; everything needs to be perfect— he needs to be twelve steps ahead because when Bruce isn’t, he’s susceptible to being hurt.

What good is he without control over situations?

That’s another reason he’s so upset about Hal discovering his identity. How dare he not act according to how Bruce thought he would!

Bruce catches his reflection on the computer screen, and his gaze drifts down to his lips. Are they really that distinctive? He unconsciously pouts as he focuses his attention on them. They’re plump with a defined cupid bow but not particularly special. He can list a dozen celebrities with similar lips and many more ordinary civilians. So why was Hal so sure?

His lips thin as he frowns.

“What exactly did the Batcomputer do to you, Master Bruce?” Alfred seems amused as he stares at him; the butler knows that the frown on his face is not one of sadness or anger but more one of confusion and irritation stemming from it.

“Green Lantern found out my civilian identity.” Bruce sighs as he removes his cowl again, placing it on the desk. “Are my lips a key feature?”

“Well,” Alfred starts, “they certainly are the key feature of many a gossip rag.”

Bruce is unamused.

There’s a glimmer of mirth in the older man’s eyes. “Your lips, sir, possess a certain distinctive quality that allows me to distinguish them from numerous others. Why, Master Bruce? Has the Lantern claimed to identify you with just that?”

Bruce gives an affirmative grunt.

“My word. A keen eye is on that man, then.”

Bruce gives a less affirmative grunt, not wanting to acknowledge the other’s proficiency in anything really.

“Now, now, Master Bruce. Give credit where credit’s due.” Alfred speaks gently, like talking to a fussy toddler he’s trying to appease. “On that note, Master Damian has performed rather excellently on his exams as of late. Perhaps some praise is due for him, too.”

“Alright.” News of Damian has softened his mood some. “I’ll be sure to tell him after I finish this report.”

“The report on the Batcomputer, sir?”

“Yes. Why?”

“The one that’s has been off, and you have been blankly staring at for minutes?” Alfred raises a brow.

It seems Bruce was so lost in thought the screen went black— a safety precaution so that it would not stay on when no one was in the cave.

“Hrn…” Bruce gives a slightly embarrassed and contemplative hum.

“Perhaps it would be best to return to it with fresh eyes and a full stomach, Master Bruce.” This is Alfred’s passive-aggressive way of calling him unproductive in staying here and urging him to eat dinner.

“…Alright. I’ll head up after I change and shower.”

“Very good then, Master Bruce. I shall see the mulligatawny does not grow cold in the meantime.”

The food catches Bruce’s attention. Alfred knows this. It’s like uttering a magic word. He’ll surely be even quicker in getting ready for dinner now.

“I sensed you were in, as the younger generation aptly puts it, 'a mood,' and realized it has been a while since I prepared your favorite.” Alfred looks at the man fondly. “Rest assured, I shall have your favorite meal ready for you when you come upstairs.”

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Taking care of you is what I am here for, Master Bruce.” His smile is gentle.

Bruce’s returning one is the same before he rushes off to get ready for dinner in record time, and it is worth it because the soup is delicious. It always is. 

Bruce’s mood is significantly raised until he sees an important email under his Wayne Enterprises account.

“What the hell is—“ Bruce squints at the words on the screen. “A raffle to pick who spends a day with me on a cruise? Really?”

When he, as Brucie, of course, absentmindedly told the marketing team to “do whatever you need to increase engagement,” he did not think the employees would interpret it in this manner.

The results are set for tomorrow morning. There’s no way he can let this raffle be random. There are too many risks. If anyone can enter by donating to the no-doubt generous cause of preserving polar ice caps, then the offer is extended even to the most dangerous of men.

He’ll need to rig the raffle. Luckily, its coding is rudimentary, and it’ll be easy enough for him to do it as a fun project.

Besides, he has intel that Penguin isn’t too pleased with the fact that the SOS Cruise has an Ice Cap Lounge (blame the research expedition sponsors; they wouldn’t budge on it), which is far too similar to his coined name. That, and the fact he didn’t get an invite to the launch party, makes the billionaire wonder if he’ll show up uninvited.

The Joker and Riddler have messed up a few boats he’s been on. Knowing his luck, it’ll turn out the same.

Choosing a raffle winner with enough combat experience to handle themselves unattended and a clean background for a potentially dangerous situation is precisely why Bruce needs to rig this. It’s definitely not because he doesn’t want to spend the day with an unpleasant socialite. 

Plugging in the information of all the names, emails, and addresses of the raffle participants into the computer, it automatically flags names of interest, and one, in particular, catches his eye.

Harold Jordan from Coast City.

Maybe he’ll wait to tell Lucius about the memory-eraser. Perhaps there’s merit to Hal knowing his identity after all, so long as he can find a way to keep his family out of it.

Chapter Text

Hal Jordan is an idiot. He acknowledges this when he wakes up with a hangover on a Monday morning. The rush-hour traffic and loud sounds of cars from the highway overpass near his house wake him up.

When he opens his too-bright phone to check his email, hoping to find some acceptance letters for job applications, a Wayne Enterprise one greets him at the top of his inbox.

Congratulations! You’ve Won The SOS Cruise Launch Party Raffle! Please Respond to This Email to Confirm Attendance

“What the…?” Hal’s sigh turns into a yawn as the shock of it startles him into awareness. “I won?”

Hal stares at the email before shutting his phone off. He decides to nap the hangover off.

One would think that saving literal universes from destruction, taking a blast from Mogo, being strong enough to create an artificial sun, or creating a planetary construct that shielded all of Earth would keep a man from feeling such devastation from a simple hangover.

Falling back asleep is difficult, but ignoring his phone and responsibilities is easy.

The incessant buzzing of his phone hours later is harder to ignore.

With a groan, he opens his eyes, the throbbing in his temple gone, and the light coming in through the window is less bright. He’s slept well into the late afternoon.

Unknown Number

Jordan, this is Bruce Wayne.

Please confirm your attendance at the Launch Party.

Jordan, I know this is your number.

Please respond.

Jordan, my marketing team at WE is worrying. This affects more than just me, so if you’re purposefully ignoring my messages, I must ask you to cease your childish behavior.

“For crying out loud…” Hal sighs– Bruce texts like a clingy, needy ex. Hal creates a contact for him.

Spooky

I just woke up

You text too much

You sleep too much.

I'm marking you as attending. Do you have a suit?

 

Hal frowns.

I’m not exactly a suit guy

Do you have one I can borrow?

Are you free tomorrow at 11:00?

If I agree will you stop texting me?

Yes.

Then yes

Fly over to Gotham tomorrow. Meet me at this address.

Hal opens the attachment and finds that Bruce sent a secluded location just short of his estate.

Roger that

Now stop texting me

I was about to, but I no longer want to.

Spooky is much more petty over text. His usually irritating attitude almost comes off as playful, and Hal can’t help but smile to himself as he responds.

You’re an insufferable guy, you know that?

Takes one to know one.

So you admit your insufferable?

*You’re

I hate you

You don’t. You would have stopped messaging earlier otherwise.

See you tomorrow, Jordan.

I’m not messaging because I like you

I’m making sure I get a suit and that you don’t throw me off the top of Wayne Tower or something

But see you tomorrow Bruce

 

Bruce leaves him on read, and Hal sighs, his phone lying next to his head as he looks up at the popcorn ceiling, simultaneously giddy and nervous.

What the fuck is he getting himself into?

“A suit fitting,” Bruce informs him when he asks, sliding into the passenger seat of a sleek black foreign car worth more than a few years of his rent.

“A suit fitting? Can’t I just borrow a suit?”

The twitch to Bruce’s brow and the accompanying hum is a solid “no.” It says a million different things, and not a single thing positive about Hal.

“Got it.” Hal crosses his legs and tries not to marvel at how nice the car is. He thinks he fails at that. “So I thought you would have a driver or something.”

“I have someone similar,” Bruce braces his arm against Hal’s headrest as he looks behind him, pulling out of the spot. “He shouldn’t have to tolerate your presence, though.”

Hal frowns. “You’re a mean guy, Spooky.”

“Hm.” That’s a surprised, “I-hadn’t-considered-that” hum- one Batman does when Hal says something of merit during a meeting. Bruce at least has the decency to look a little ashamed. 

He drives in silence for a few minutes, and Hal can tell he’s looking at him through the reflection in the car’s window. “He’s not here because I don’t want you learning his identity.”

Hal gives a drawn-out hum. “So you see me as a threat to this guy?”

“He’s family to me.” There’s a note of fondness and melancholy rich in Bruce’s tone, and Hal thinks it’s the most emotional he’s ever heard the man speak. “You knowing my identity is a threat to my family. In Gotham, we face mind-readers, mind-controllers, and such daily. Anyone can learn about us through you. It's dangerous.”

There’s a beat of silence as Hal thinks about what to say.

“I don’t live in Gotham,” is his response. “I don’t deal with the same threats you do. Honestly, Spooky, I deal with things on a bigger, more cosmic scale.”

Hal gives a tired sigh at the thought of how significant his responsibilities are, but he feels a slight surge of pride. “I’m the guardian of a whole sector. Most people I fight or things I deal with aren’t related to Earth anyways, much less individuals who would care who you are.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything, wholly focused on driving. It’s then that the Lantern realizes Bruce may interpret his words as dismissive and rude.

“Sorry- not to say that you’re not strong or important, Bruce.” He feels like he’s going to trip on his words. “It’s just- y’know? Intergalactic affairs and—”

“I understand, Jordan.” Bruce makes a seamless lane switch before his eyes dart over to Hal, his gaze a little soft. “Thank you.”

“Oh.” Hal didn’t do anything worth warranting that, but he’s glad Bruce feels a smidge more relieved. He can count the times Bruce has told him that on one hand, and he’s surprised at how freely given it is, though he supposes the subject matter was his family. “Uh- yeah. You’re welcome.”

Maybe it’s because the cowl is off or because he knows the man’s identity, but Bruce is nicer than Hal remembers. Then again, when’s the last time Hal has been completely nice to Batman? 

Hal is nicer in comparison, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t assume Batman is always itching for a fight.

Hal sits with that for a minute before Bruce breaks the silence.

“I brought you coffee.”

“You… did?”

Bruce frowns at the genuine surprise on Hal’s face.

“Sorry- uh— thanks, Spooky.” Hal grins, looking down at the cup holder. There’s one at the top and one at the bottom. “Which one is mine?”

“Driver’s pick,” Bruce states. “I’m always the top.”

Hal snorts, amused, as he grabs his drink. “Is that a euphemism or…?”

“Jordan.”

Hal just lets out a chuckle before taking a sip. The coffee is the perfect temperature, and it’s really fucking good, just how he likes it: black with two sugars. Of course, Batman knows his coffee order. 

Instead of squabbling over it like he usually would, he settles for a simple “Thanks. It’s good.”

Bruce reaches for his own, but when he grabs it from the top, the cover begins slipping off, and his hand freezes. 

Hal can hear the slight hitch of his breath, and before the billionaire can say his name, Hal has already put his drink between his thighs (a risky move he hadn’t totally thought through the potential repercussions of) and steadies Bruce’s drink in his hands.

“Here,” Hal’s voice is soft, coaxing when the other doesn’t immediately release it. “You can let go. I’ve got it.”

Bruce looks at him for a second before giving a thankful hum, letting go of the drink. Hal fixes the lid, double-checks it, and hands it back to him.

“Thank you, Jordan.”

That’s twice now in an hour.

“Of course.” Hal goes back to drinking his own drink.

The ride to the suit-fitting place is largely uneventful. They mainly drive in silence (Hal needs to ask Bruce to put the radio on next time), aside from the one time Bruce curses under his breath, harshly gripping the steering wheel and merging into the leftmost lane from the slowest.

“What?” Hal can’t help but feel surprised at the change in Bruce’s demeanor. “Are we being chased? Is something wrong? What happened?”

Bruce scowls at the road ahead. “…I was in the wrong lane.”

Hal relaxes at that, resting his whole body back against the comfortable seat. “Shame on you for scaring me and being in the wrong lane.”

“Shut up, Jordan.”

“In your dreams.”

Hal smiles to himself as he looks out the window. He finds the ride is strangely pleasant. 

Chapter Text

“What about this one?” Hal turns around, checking out his ass in the deep blue suit. “I think it looks good.”

“Hmm… no.” Brucie’s voice is raised to a higher pitch that Hal isn’t used to hearing in person. “I don’t like the green tie with it. And I’m already wearing a similar blue. Can’t have him upstage me!”

The stylist laughs and goes along with his whims, not questioning it, handing Hal another suit to try on before leaving the room. Bruce should follow, but he doesn’t.

“Is it because of the green tie?” Hal turns to Bruce, confused. “I think I look hot.”

“While the green tie certainly is a factor,” Bruce admits, not denying his irrational (and far too paranoid) anxiety, “blue doesn’t suit you. You have an olive complexion and light brown eyes and hair. It looks good on you, but I’d think something else might look better.”

Hal sighs. “The no-green thing is such a buzzkill, Spooky.”

“Don’t use that nickname in public.”

“I thought you didn’t like me using it, ever. So I can use it in private?”

“Jordan.” The man frowns, his brows pinched together.

Hal is coming to like the exasperated way Bruce sighs out his last name. It never fails to bring a smile to his face when it sounds so fond.

Despite Bruce’s welcome presence, though, Hal is grateful he had coffee; otherwise, he would have stormed out a while ago.

Hal has tried on more suits than he’s ever worn in his life.

He thought a suit fitting would make him feel like hot shit, like some fancy CEO guy- how he imagined Bruce felt at these things, but if this is what Bruce deals with on the daily, Hal can only feel pity. It was fun for the first few minutes, but now he’s only feeling tired.

All the suits and swatches look the same to him. He can’t even tell what looks good or what doesn’t anymore.

“Are you sure he’s not allowed a nice Olive, Hunter, or Castleton green?” The stylist comes back in and looks at Bruce. “Green really is his color.”

“No green, please.” Brucie smiles a smile far too ditzy and unfamiliar when associated with Batman for Hal’s liking. “I just hate the color! Except on my money, of course.”

The stylist gives a polite laugh at the joke.

Hal sighs.

Hal can’t wear anything that may tie him back to his hero identity, including the color green. No suit pieces, no ties, nothing— and it’s disheartening the stylist more than Hal, honestly.

It’s been a couple of hours now, and Hal is getting tired. He can hear the muffled conversation between Bruce and the stylist as he gets changed into this light grey suit with a pink tie. 

He thinks this looks good. Maybe? He can’t tell.

Bruce seems to agree with his initial judgment when he steps out of the changing room to join the other two.

“You look good.” Brucie gives Hal an exaggerated up-and-down look, smirking. “You could say it suits you.”

Hal groans, and the stylist chuckles, looking pleased as they also seem to approve of the colors.

“Brucie,” Hal is careful not to use his usual nickname for the man, “you’re insufferable.”

“You would know.” Bruce laughs, the banter reminiscent of their conversation from yesterday. “You make that suit look good.”

Bruce turns to the stylist. “One like this for him, please.”

“We’ll have the custom-made suit done by the fourteenth.” That’s three days before the event. “Is that agreeable, Mister Wayne and Mister Jordan?”

“Custom made?” Hal turns to Bruce, his voice hushed and panicked. The man ignores him and continues speaking to the stylist.

“Mister Wayne was my father. Please, call me Bruce! Brucie is even better.” He smiles. “The fourteenth works great, though. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course, Mister Bruce.” The worker says before leaving, allowing Hal to change again and leaving the two alone.

“Custom made?! Custom made?! Spooks, I can’t accept something like that!” Hal’s heart drops as he imagines how much money it would cost. “How much money would that cost? Hundreds?!”

“Jordan…” Bruce says, his voice appeasing and gentle, trying to coax him out of his shocked disbelief.

“Answer my question!”

“It’s not important, Jordan.”

“It is to me, especially if it’s worth more money than I can pay you back!”

“You don’t need to pay me back.”

“Don’t take pity on me, you—”

“Billionaire?” Bruce raises a brow, arms crossed. “Besides, I invited you here knowing how much a suit would cost. Consider it a gift.”

Hearing the billionaire fact takes some wind out of Hal’s sails. “Answer my question, and I’ll drop it.”

“Jordan.”

“I need to know.” Hal’s voice is firm, and he knows he can be stubborn. “Please.”

There’s a beat of silence before Bruce sighs.

“About two thousand dollars.”

“Thousands?!” Hal blanches, suddenly very anxious about wearing anything that expensive. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“Jordan.”

“I’m gonna throw up. I’m gonna throw up. I’m gonna throw up,” Hal repeats in quick succession.

“Jordan.”

“I’m not good enough for a suit this expensive! Oh, I’m literally sweating in it. I can’t remember if I put on deodorant. I’m—”

“Hal.”

The use of his first name catches his attention- enough to make the anxiety wash away for a second.

“You’ll do your suit justice.” Bruce comes up behind Hal, and they look at his reflection in the mirror together. “You look good. The suit is classic and simple enough that you’ll be able to wear it to most events, so do that. Don’t let it rot in your closet.”

“The money…”

“I’m the last person you’ll ever need to worry about money-wise. Pay me back by wearing it.” Bruce’s voice drops into a tone Hal can’t quite register. “I’m not lying when I say it looks good on you. Though…”

Bruce steps closer, in front of him now, and bends down just slightly to readjust Hal’s crooked tie. The CEO is so close that Hal’s breathing stutters just slightly, and he can see how Bruce’s hair shifts with each of Hal’s exhaled breaths.

“There.” He hears the satisfied curl to Bruce’s voice.

He feels nervous for a whole other set of reasons now.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to Bruce outside of dangerous situations. Maybe that’s why his heart is racing so fast: association.

“I’m… um.” Hal feels his cheeks warm as he averts his gaze, unable to look down at the man. His throat feels tight. Damn Bruce for choking him with the tie. “I’ll never refuse the opportunity to take money out of your pockets, then.”

Bruce gives an amused hum, standing up to full height, his blue eyes meeting Hal’s with a twinkle of knowing mischief in his eyes. “I look forward to it.”

This Brucie persona is going to be the death of him.

Chapter Text

Bruce has never been too fond of these social events, much less ones he’s tasked with the responsibility of hosting because that means he has a responsibility of showing up absurdly early. 

At least Hal looks like he’s having fun. For all the man panicked about the cost of his suit, it seems he’s far too distracted with the grandeur of everything to remember that as they tour the cruise, which is empty save for a handful of staff.

“Oh, holy shit, Spooks,” Hal’s jaw is slack as they enter the cruise’s dining room. “People will get to eat here? I mean- this place is so pretty. I think I’d be too distracted to eat.”

“That’s a shame,” Bruce notes, voice teasingly grave. “Since we were here early, the staff wanted your opinion on the food, but if you don’t want to eat…”

“I’ll eat.” Hal quickly sits at an empty table, a broad grin on his face. “I’m ready. Show me the rich people food.”

Bruce finds himself letting out a huff of amusement, relaxing, just a little, for the first time since they’ve gotten on this cruise. 

“It’s not rich people food. Those would be far too unpleasant for a cruise, limiting, and small in portion size.” Bruce catches the eye of a staff member and gives them a bright smile before pointing to the table, signaling that they’re ready to try some food. “Besides, the cruise is still affordable to some if they splurge a little. It’s not supposed to be inaccessible, but it is supposed to be luxurious and informative.”

“Right, the ice caps…” Hal nods along. “Hey, did you hear there are flowers in Antarctica now? That’s crazy, man.”

Bruce lets out a solemn hum. “The bacteria humans have no immunity to that were trapped in the ice may also become a risk for humanity. I’m half tempted to go out and investigate it for myself.” He looks up, sees the horror on Hal’s face, and is quick to reassure him, “But even I’m not that reckless.”

“And thank God for that, Spooks.”

Bruce smiles.

And isn’t that a little strange? He’s smiling at Hal Jordan— the man who’s gotten on his nerves more than anyone else in the League.

Hal has been strangely companionable. Bruce will admit the idea of killing him or accidentally hitting him and making him lose his memory of Batman’s identity no longer holds appeal to him.

“You know Hal,” Bruce finds himself admitting, sounding all too much like Damian, “your presence is more than tolerable.”

Hal lets out a bark of laughter, voice both parts questioning and amused. “Wow, great line,” he starts sarcastically. “Do you tell that to all your dates?”

Bruce’s heart flutters slightly at that. Not knowing what to say, he settles for a panicked but coy “Yes.”

Luckily, Hal, who seems oddly pink in the indoor lighting, chuckles and plays along, faking a dramatic, offended gasp. “I’m disappointed that I’m not special.”

A staff member walks into the room, and Bruce blames them for the Brucie charm that slips out because of it. “You’re special, Hal.” He looks into Hal’s brown eyes, resting an elbow on the table and his cheek against his fisted hand, looking at the pilot appraisingly. He looks good. “Not everyone would get a suit like that, otherwise. But you know what would suit you better?”

“What?”

Is he really going to do this? He hates how this persona has a mind of its own. Hopefully, Hal won’t mind as he responds, “My last name.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Bruce can tell Hal is taken aback by the not-so-subtle flirtation. 

“Harold Wayne,” Hal tries out, chuckling almost nervously to himself. “That sounds like I have two first names.”

Bruce smiles. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Oh, will I?”

“For the sake of the marriage, you must.”

“Or,” Hal argues, because of course he does, “you take my last name. Bruce Jordan.”

Bruce’s laughter, now free from the polished charm of Brucie, rumbles low and genuine.

“That’s still two first names.”

“No.” Hal smiles. “Cuz you’ve graduated from calling me “Jordan” to “Hal.” There’s a difference there.”

Bruce doesn’t remember consciously making the switch. Concealing his surprise, Bruce counters, “Well, I’m not switching Wayne Enterprises to Jordan Enterprises. It would be a bureaucratic nightmare. Do you know how much paperwork and rebranding that would take?”

Hal tilts his head, a contemplative expression on his face. “No,” he muses. “Do you?”

“No,” Bruce admits.

They both laugh.

Hal has this bright sort of laughter that captures his attention, like a particularly pretty sunset. He throws his head back and slaps his hand on the thigh of his crossed leg. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a hint of a barely-restrained snort in there.

Bruce has never been on the receiving end of such a genuine laugh from Hal, only familiar with the sharp, sarcastic, biting, hurtful scoffs and disbelieving laughter from the Lantern when they fight over something.

This is nice.

Lunch carries the same lighthearted banter and warmth. Hal approves the food, and Bruce finds himself strangely reassured by it.

The photographer hired by the marketing team announces their presence by snapping a picture of them talking as soon as they enter the room, and the two men turn towards the newcomer.

“It just looked so natural; I had to take a picture.” 

They all shake hands, and it’s all business from there.

“Okay, now Hal, can you wrap your arm around Brucie’s neck all casual, please?” The photographer requests as they stand out on the sunny deck. “And Brucie, honey, can you hunch forward a little like his arm is bringing you down? Smile! Like you’re both roughhousing!”

Brucie laughs.

“It’s nice to be the one bringing you down for once,” Hal says between smiling-grit teeth. “And I’ll have photographic proof of it? Awesome.”

Bruce nudges his stomach with his elbow, garnering a surprised grunt. “We both know you could never take me down.”

“Oh, really?” Hal’s voice is edged with annoyance. “And why’s that?”

“I’m better than you.”

“Really?”

“I have multiple contingency plans for every powerful individual I encounter.”

“Oh, so I’m powerful enough to make the cut?”

“Just barely.”

There’s a pause, and when Bruce thinks Hal has admitted defeat, he feels the man giving him a noogie.

With an indignant guffaw, Bruce turns around and attempts to remove the offending hand, but Hal meets his movements, adjusting himself as needed.

Hal laughs, and Bruce just groans in annoyance.

“Hal.”

It doesn’t stop.

“Hal!”

Hal laughs harder— middle children and their audacity.

“Jordan!” Bruce’s voice comes out like an owner yelling at their puppy to stop chewing on something, and Hal looks thoroughly rebuked as he pulls his hand away.

“Oh, shit. Did I go too far? Shit, I’m sorry.” He frowns, giving Bruce puppy-dog eyes. The billionaire isn’t even sure he’s aware he’s doing it. “Please don’t go back to calling me by my last name.”

“Will you behave?” His dad voice slips out.

Hal hastily nods. “Yeah, come on, Brucie. Gimme one more chance, baby. I’ll be good this time around. I promise.”

Bruce rolls his eyes at the apology. Hal sounds like a desperate, clingy ex, and he briefly wonders how many people this has worked on.

“Yeah, alright- just get off me, Jordan.”

“Hal,” the man protests with a whine.

“Hal.”

The pilot smiles and stands up tall, no longer upset.

The photo shoot is quick to end after as the photographer claims they “got great shots” and that the two of them have a “natural chemistry.”

Interesting.

Bruce is glad their teamwork and rapport seem to be improving. That will benefit their performance in the League.

Time continues to fly by as guests and press arrive.

Hal begins to drift away from Bruce, finding the company in a pair of gorgeous ladies, the adult daughters of Bruce’s business partners. Familiar with the cruise from his previous tour, he talks with a confidence that makes it seem like he owns the damn thing. The billionaire is glad the man will at least be entertained, but Bruce feels a lurch of unease in his stomach. Perhaps he’s more nervous about a potential attack from Penguin’s men than he thought.

He can’t be distracted, not now.

He notices a suspicious movement out from the corner of his eye.

“I assure you,” Bruce turns towards his captive audience, everyone holding a champagne glass, “this won't be your ordinary cruise. We're here to save our snow, or as I like to say, keep things cool.” There’s a smattering of laughter in the crowd. “It’s a shame I won’t be able to be here for the first round of this cruise, but I am here for this party! So. Let’s toast to the SOS Cruise, where we mix luxury with a splash of environmental awareness. After all, saving the snow is not just a job for caped crusaders; it's a mission we can all undertake. Cheers!”

As everyone raises their glasses in a cheerful toast, applause erupts. However, in Gotham, where goodness seldom lasts, the celebratory atmosphere shatters mere seconds later. The sound of breaking glass pierces the air, accompanied by the ominous sight of a gun pointed at Bruce Wayne’s head.

When he meets Hal’s eyes across the deck, Bruce recognizes two things. 

The first is that he forgot to tell Hal about the potential danger. 

The second is that Hal doesn’t have his ring.

Chapter Text

Hal isn’t sure what happened.

One minute, he’s got a lady hanging on each arm, listening to the smooth, saccharine voice of Brucie giving a speech, and the next, there's screaming as he sees Bruce’s panicked eyes meet his.

There’s a gun to Bruce’s head.

The panic in Bruce’s eyes isn’t for himself, though- the man doesn’t look desperate or put-out; it’s more for Hal, especially as he pointedly looks at the ringless hand draped over one of the women’s shoulders.

Because Bruce was so paranoid about the green and the ring, Hal doesn’t have it on him, and he definitely can’t run away and manifest his ring now- not during such a public event.

Well, it’s not the worst thing ever.

People in the League seem to forget: Hal was a Captain in the U.S. Air Force, a decorated fighter pilot. Though the martial arts training for pilots was minimal, the physical strength training required for piloting and his fixation with Rocky made him adept in hand-to-hand combat. He even learned some Krav Maga from other soldiers who weren’t pilots.

All in all, he’s confident about his ability to hold his own in a fight.

He’s worried for Bruce, whose playboy persona doesn’t allow him to fight with the practice and proficiency he ought to.

“Listen up, Wayne. The Penguin sends his worst regards. You'll cooperate if you don't want your brains decorating the pavement.” The goon aims the gun between Bruce’s brows. “The boss has a bone to pick with you, and we wouldn't want things to get messy, would we?”

“No.” Bruce’s voice is low and level. “We wouldn’t.”

“Good. Good.” The goon leers and two other armed men walked closer to Bruce. It seems there are only three here. How these people made it onboard with security, Hal doesn’t know. “Now… Penguin doesn’t like your new Ice Cap Lounge. Sounds a little too familiar, y’see?”

Penguin? Hal can vaguely remember the name of the Gotham Rogue. He supposes the tuxedos the gunmen are wearing make sense then.

“Yes, well,” Bruce starts, playing the part of a nervous victim. The slight tremor in his voice and the way his eyes dart around make Hal feel sick to his stomach with worry. “I tried convincing the sponsors that the name wouldn’t work out. They didn’t listen.”

Hal wonders if Bruce ever feels sick when guns, the same weapons that killed his parents, are pointed at him. He can’t tell how much of it is really an act.

His hands are balled into fists at his side, and he waits for Bruce to say something- to do something; anything that indicates the Lantern can help somehow. He quietly begins to inch his way over, much to the distress of the two women who had previously been clinging to him.

“Well, the Penguin is a nice guy. He knows not to go where he’s not welcome, and he’s got a little, uh, proposition for you.” 

Bruce reads the small card the goon gives him before handing it back. “I’d rather hat up and enter Westward to Bludhaven than pay up.” 

Hal gets the message. To “hat up” is military lingo for moving positions, and Westward is the direction he’s telling Hal to come in from.

“Ain't Bludhaven South’a here?” 

“Yeah.” Hal punches the gunman’s ear with enough force to burst an eardrum and knock him down to the ground. “But I’m West.”

The two other armed men panic. One goes towards Bruce, and the other comes closer to Hal. Judging by how the man closest to him holds the gun, it’s safe to say he’s inexperienced. That, or hesitant to shoot.

Following his observation, the gunman, instead of shooting, attempts to pistol whip Hal in the head. The pilot seamlessly ducks underneath, hearing the cutting sound of the wind above his head before returning to his full height and delivering a powerful jab to the man’s nose. Head thrown back from the blow, the guy frantically waves the gun around, eyes clenched shut in fear of another hit and blinking back tears— Hal ducks and weaves between the desperate swings with a boxer’s grace before delivering a punishing uppercut.

The man falls back onto the floor, groaning in pain. He won’t get up unless it’s to attempt to run away or if he wants to get properly knocked out.

The last gunman seems conflicted about whether or not to point the gun at Bruce or Hal, but he eventually settles for Bruce, grabbing the man and pressing the gun against the side of his head.

Hal knows Bruce can quickly disarm the man in thirty different ways but doesn’t do so for the sake of maintaining his cover. It’s so coming back to bite both heroes’ asses right now.

Godammit, Brucie.

“On your knees and hands up!” The armed man commands Hal, spittle flying. His fear translates into anger, and there’s bound to be a bruise from how harshly the guy is digging his gun into Bruce’s temple.

Hal complies once he gets close enough.

“Wow,” Hal starts, tone lighthearted in a discordant way with the situation, “usually they at least take me out to dinner before asking that.”

“Shut up!” The man is jumpy, finger nearing the trigger. Though Hal knows he’s unlikely to shoot Bruce on purpose, he does not like how shaky the man’s hands are.

“Hey, man. It’s not too late.” Hal begins de-escalating and bargaining, trying to remember all those lectures Bruce gave the League. “Drop the gun, plead guilty, and go wherever they send you— without Bruce Wayne’s murder on your record.”

“I can’t— I can’t.” The man digs the gun harder against Bruce, and the billionaire audibly hisses in pain. “I’d get more money for my family killing Wayne anyway. Ya know how many’d love fo’me to take him out?”

“Family?” Hal sees an in. “Look, let him go, and Bruce can help pay for your family.” He looks at the CEO. “Isn’t that right, Bruce?”

“Yes.” Bruce’s charm is not all impeded by a gun to the head. “I’ll take good care of your family. Debts paid, scholarships offered— you know I make good on my promises. You’ve seen news stories on how I treat employees, right? If someone in your family has a resume ready, I’m willing to offer them jobs as well.”

It’s a good deal, a great one, even.

It’s too bad the guy is too irrational to take it.

“I don’t want yer pity, Wayne! I’ll take my chances.” The man’s face turns into a snarl as he readies himself to take the shot, but before he can adequately take purchase on the trigger, Hal jumps forward, hooking his arms around the man’s knees and pulling- causing the man to lose balance and fall backward.

The gun goes off, and Hal hears the startled screams of guests but pays it no mind as he rolls on the ground with the gunman, trying to strip him of his weapon.

“Let go, dammit!” Hal grunts out, pulling the gun away. His hands full and mind occupied, he doesn’t notice the fist coming towards him until it’s too late, and he feels a harsh pressure against his upper right cheek and eye.

“Shit!”

Damn, job hunting won’t be made any easier with it.

Still, he throws the gun far away from them. He transitions into Krav Maga’s Guard Reversal pose, swiftly leveraging his body weight before executing a bridge-and-roll maneuver, flipping the assailant off him. As the man is thrown off, Hal quickly follows through with an elbow strike to the jaw, the rotational force of it hitting with maximum impact.

That man was ready to kill Bruce.

Krav Maga is not pretty. It’s brutal- a martial art designed to kill and deal lasting damage. Hal doesn’t kill, but he certainly doesn’t hold back. With one last knee directly to the torso, Hal relishes in the impact, bone against sensitive flesh, as he watches the man fall.

All three armed men have been taken out. Security is quick to rush in, of course, after all the work has been done, and Hal ignores the worried chittering of guests and their smattered applause as he runs over to Bruce’s side.

“Bruce!” Hal says in a desperate rush when he sees the bright red blood associated with a facial wound trickling down the man’s cheek and down his chin. “Holy shit, Spooks.” Hal kneels before him, thankful the custom-made suit comes with a handkerchief, and presses it to the skin grazed by the bullet. “Are you okay? You’re good, right?”

“I’m fine, Jordan.” Bruce’s voice sounds calm and clinical— more Batman than Brucie as he logs the injury to Hal’s eye. He’s not using Hal’s first name. “You, on the other hand, have sustained blunt force trauma to your periorbital region, resulting in ecchymosis and edema. There’s a definite contusion of the surrounding soft tissues but no apparent orbital fractures.” Bruce gently raises his hand and cradles the side of Hal’s head, his thumb gently prodding the area. “It’s advisable that you monitor yourself for any signs of long-term visual impairment or neurological complications.” 

“Got it.” Hal’s voice, in comparison, is fond. “I’m glad you’re okay, Spooky.”

He notes Bruce has a reddening bruise on his temple where the gun was dug into his skin, so much like Bruce is doing to the skin around his eye; Hal cradles the man’s head and soothes the area with his thumb.

“What are you doing, Jordan?”

“Massaging it. Making sure you feel okay.”

Bruce gives an exasperated sigh but doesn’t lean away from the touch. “Massaging a bruise will only make it bigger. And I was “massaging” your eye to check for fractures.”

“Oh.” The pilot feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment before pulling the offending digit away. “My bad.”

Bruce clears his throat awkwardly, his voice becoming friendly once more. “No. Thank you for caring, Hal.”

They look into each other’s eyes briefly, and everything else falls away before Hal hears someone approach.

“Mr. Wayne,” a young news reporter with a guest nametag that says Lois Lane runs up to the two men, looking down at Bruce with obvious worry. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Lois.” Bruce’s smile is turned to a hundred as he stands up, urging Hal to do the same. “Lois, this is my savior, Harold Jordan.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lois, is it?” Hal introduces himself to the pretty woman, a smile on his face. “Hal Jordan, former U.S. Air Force captain. I was Brucie’s plus-one after winning the raffle to attend this thing. Guess it was fate I was here.”

“Fate, you say?” Lois quirks a brow and shakes his hand, all too eager to jump into an interview but not without following through with the formality of an introduction. “Lois Lane, investigative journalist for the Daily Planet. Say, Hal, do you think I could have you elaborate on the word “fate” here?”

At Bruce’s laugh, Hal figures this pushy behavior is typical for the woman.

“Good luck, Hal.” Bruce claps a hand on the pilot’s shoulder before wandering off with the excuse of, “I’m going to get you some ice for that eye of yours,” and leaves him with the journalist.

Seems like the Daily Planet will have a nice scoop.

As Hal sees other members of the press and cameras turn to him, he wonders what he’s gotten himself roped into. 

Chapter Text

Hal sighs as Ollie sends him article after article. The archer has been in shock over the headlines all morning.

Ollie

Hal???? Buddy???? Yesterday????

[Attachment: Harold Jordan, Bruce Wayne’s Fated Protector]

[Attachment: Brucie Wayne’s New BFF? Who Is Harold Jordan?]

[Attachment: Harold Jordan Says Being With Bruce Wayne Is Fate After Saving Him]

What are you doing spending time with HIM???

I thought you were the type to tell me everything :(

And HIM of all people?? Hal, buddy, my friend, my guy- he’s a total corporate asshole. He’s the definition of who people say “eat the rich” for.

Bruce isn’t that bad

Bc he’s a ditz

He’s not

You’d be surprised

Uh? Who’s seen him at more events?? ME.

God, I hate rich guys like him. he thinks he can buy his way through anything!

Hal lets out a mix between a sigh and a chuckle. If only Oliver knew.

Btw how’s ur eye?

I got rich people ointment for it

It has collagen in it

Oh? And maybe a kiss from the damsel in distress? Wouldn’t put it past him judging by old headlines.

Bruce, kissing him? As if.

Despite the fact that it would never happen, Hal feels his cheeks warm. It’s a natural reaction when thinking of kissing your celebrity crush.

????

I know YOU aren’t slutshaming Brucie Wayne

And i know YOU aren’t slutshaming me

Touché

Anyways, are you free to hang tonite? The pretty bartender you like has a shift today. I’m sure she’d love to swoon over you and your heroism. She might be willing to give us a discount.

Enticing. Meet at yours at 7?

As always! Your treat.

It’s at this moment that Hal gets a text from Bruce. Maybe it’s because of the kissing joke about him and Bruce between him and Ollie, but Hal’s heart skips a beat or two when he sees the message.

Spooky

Good morning, Hal.

How’s your eye?

Swollen, but alright

:)

How’s your cheek?

I deal with worse on the daily.

That’s not really a good thing, Spooks

Hm.

I was wondering if you were free tonight.

Hal feels his stomach flip with surprise, but his heart drops with dread. He has plans with Ollie. Surely, the blonde wouldn’t mind a cancellation. They always hang out, and Bruce would only ever invite Hal to something if it were important, right?

I’m all yours

Good. I owe you an apology for yesterday.

Please allow me to make it up to you.

Oh, shit, he needs to tell Ollie.

Ollie

Sooo… I’m gonna have to ask for a rain check.

Are you ditching me for Brucie?

How mad would you be if I said yes?

Dinah just asked why I sighed. I hope you know this and feel guilty.

I’m gonna hang out with Barry

GL u better tell me all the juicy Wayne gossip though cuz I need to know how much of that old and canceled Make it Wayne show is true

You’ll hear everything about our date, promise

Hal is just kidding, but as Ollie bombards him with confused messages, he decides it’s funnier to leave him on read as payback for the barrage of texts that woke him up this morning.

Meeting Bruce in the same nice car as last time, Hal hops in, feeling slightly more at ease with it.

“What’s on the menu, Spooks?” Hal chirps, torn between hunger and nerves. “I’m starving but also clueless.”

“Whatever you’d like,” Bruce motions for the other to put on his seatbelt. “My apology, my treat.”

As much as this would be the perfect time to jokingly reply with “you,” Hal doesn’t think that would keep up Bruce’s good mood.

Hal thinks. Despite having one of the world’s wealthiest men taking him out to dinner, he’s craving…

“Kosher Chinese takeout. From Ping’s Restaurant on Fifteenth Street.” Bruce raises a brow, and Hal feels embarrassed at his incredulity. “Or we can eat inside- if you don’t, uh, want your fancy car to smell like Chinese food. Maybe that’d be better. It’s not dim sum, but they still have egg custards and all that shebang. It’s good. Last time I came here, I ordered some to go, and I thought about it for my entire flight back to Coast City.”

“Your taste, Jordan.” Bruce uses his last name fondly, and there is a smile on his face now as he raps his fingers on the wheel, contemplating. “Alright. Chinese it is.”

“Really?” Hal is surprised by how easily Bruce gives in. “Damn, Spooks. Does my eye really look that bad?”

Bruce gives an amused hum before he reaches over, takes Hal’s face in his hand by the chin, and tilts the Lantern’s head to get a better look. “It’s not as bad as it could be.”

“Wow. Thanks for the glowing review.” Hal quips, heart racing.

Bruce offers an amused quirk of his lips and lets go. “Happy to provide.”

“Jackass.”

“Sorry,” Bruce starts, teasing. “I know the person getting a free meal out of this isn’t complaining.”

“You’re a billionaire! And a guy punched me in the eye! Plus, you invited me out.”

Bruce gives a low, rumbling chuckle. “On the note of someone landing a hit on you, we need to work on your hand-to-hand combat sometime.”

“Aw, Spooks, don’t bring work into this just yet. Let’s talk shop after we eat.”

“Just saying.” 

Hal scoffs and reclines his seat back. “Jerk.”

“Hm.” Bruce looks amused. “Know how to get there?”

“From here without flying? Nope.”

Bruce sighs. “Lantern.”

“What?” Hal puts up his hands in mock defense."I've got a ring and the ability to fly. I don't need to commit everything to memory like you do. And come on, don't you have Gotham's entire layout stored in your head?”

“No. Certain areas are not under my jurisdiction.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hal wonders who, or what, is strong enough to keep Batman out of parts of Gotham.

When Bruce gives a hum, Hal knows it’s a dismissal of the question. “Never mind, then.” Hal doesn’t pester him for an answer but instead holds out his hand. “Give me your phone so I can input the directions.”

“What about your phone?”

“I didn’t charge it.” 

That’s a lie, but Bruce just huffs, and the ex-captain sees his shoulders rise and fall with the breath. He still unlocks and gives him his phone. Hal gives it a good look over.

“What phone is this?”

“The Wayne Enterprises MP in red.” Hal sees the background image as one of Brucie’s sports cars. 

“God, this is painful to look at.”

Bruce chuckles. “I change the wallpaper for privacy.”

“So you have a more personal layout? You can’t say that and not show me.”

Bruce contemplates it and shakes his head. “I can’t. Confidential information.”

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust others. I can’t put them at risk any more than they already are.”

Bruce is cryptic as always, but something in Hal’s gut tells him the “them” is likely Bruce’s family. He’s surprisingly a family guy- even outside the tabloids and gossip magazines. Hal can’t argue with that. Not when he knows how much he’d do for his own family, even the members who hate him.

“…Fine,” Hal relents, taking a blurry selfie with a smug smile. 

“What was that for?”

“If I can’t see something fun on your phone, I’ll be the something fun.”

With a playful grin, Hal changes the wallpaper of Bruce’s phone, pleased when he’s not stopped and only given a warning, but not upset, “Lantern,” knowing that the man could choose to take his phone back at any time.

The billionaire gives an exasperated sigh. “Put in the location already, Hal.” 

“Wow,” Hal starts, voice heavy with sarcasm. “Don’t sound too excited to spend time with me now. Unless you’re going soft on me, Spooks.”

“Soft for you? Absolutely not.”

They both smile at that, knowing it’s no longer true. Bruce has definitely grown fonder of him in the recent weeks.

“Alright. Alright.” Hal types in the address. “Food time.”

Dinner with Bruce surpasses Hal’s expectations. This guy is Batman? The moody, insensitive, controlling, judgemental, stuck-up prat he always fights with?

Bruce orders the food, and they eat the takeout in Bruce’s car. He’ll never be able to get the smell of food out of the interior. Or maybe he will. He’s rich. He could find a way.

“Never took you for a spice lover,” Hal admits with a mouthful of chow mein before reaching over and grabbing one of Bruce’s chicken buns. They look good.

Bruce looks down at the offending hand but doesn’t comment. “And why is that?”

“No offense, but you always seemed kinda…”

“Boring?”

Hal just smiles. “Hey, Spooks, you said that not me, but yeah. I always took you for the plain, brooding type.”

“Hm.” Bruce can’t deny that. “And now?”

Hal stares at him in silence, catching the slight hint of impatience growing within the man. 

“You’re alright, I guess,” Hal teasingly settles on.

“A glowing review,” Bruce parrots Hal’s words from earlier.

“Happy to provide,” Hal mirrors back.

They finish the rest of their meal in between moments of companionable silence and friendly banter.

Hal sighs as he looks at the sunset, painting the Gotham fog with an orange-pinkish hue.

“Man, I gotta say, I love me some sunsets. Soaring up high, surrounded by that breathtaking sky. It's a real spectacle, you know? Absolutely beautiful. There’s just nothing like it.”

“Yeah.” Bruce looks towards Hal and out his window. “Nothing like it.”

Chapter Text

“Hal,” Bruce starts, his voice commanding, even just saying his name, “come to a fundraiser with me. I suspect Mr. Freeze is up to something.”

“What the hell kinda name is that, Spooks?”

“I would tell you to ask him yourself, but I need a diversion.”

“What, you want me to pull a Brucie?”

“No, I need you to pull a Jordan.”

Hal needs to do things Bruce usually scolds him for and draw attention to himself. That’s easy enough.

“Bruce,” Hal hears the smile in his voice, “you just made my day.”

Later at the event, he doesn't miss Bruce's silent approval when he flirts with a pretty lady and arm wrestles her angry husband too close to a champagne-glass tower.

—

“Hal, clear your schedule exactly one month from now. I’ll send you the details.”

“Have you ever considered I have my own life, Bruce?”

“Hm.” A pause. “So you don’t want to come to the Aviation Expo? Wayne Enterprises needs to scope out models and potential competition.”

“Spooks!” Hal slaps the arm of his worn-out armchair before jumping out of his seat in excitement. “You should’ve started with that!”

“Yes, well.” Hal hears a notification ping. “I’ve just sent you the information.”

—

“Hal, I need your input on the updated schematics draft of the Batjet.”

“You’re shitting me.” Hal is slack-jawed as he stares at the suited man. “I get to play with your things?”

“You get to give input. You will not be touching or flying the Batjet.”

“Please?”

“Nice try, Jordan. I’ll send you drafts within the next three weeks.”

—

Hal has gotten so used to seeing Batman as Bruce that he’s taken aback momentarily by the gravelly voice and flat stare directed at him during a League meeting.

“Lantern.” Batman’s voice holds none of the usual affection (when did it become usual?) for Hal, as he’s reprimanded for not paying attention, as always.

“Shape up and get your head in the game.” Hal can hear the disapproval practically oozing out of those words. “League meetings require attention and focus from everyone here. If you can’t provide it, I suggest you leave.”

Hal would normally fight back and tell Batman to shove his opinion up somewhere the sun doesn’t shine, but he notices something this time. Batman did not insult him. Nothing was against his intelligence or belittling him, and he could almost interpret this rebuke as worry.

That's why he gives the billionaire the benefit of the doubt and replies with a simple, humble, “Sorry, Spooks. You got me there.”

Batman stares at him, his eyes no doubt searching and analyzing Hal’s microexpressions for a sign of something wrong. When he finds nothing, the pilot receives a slight nod.

“Thank you, Lantern. As I said, it would benefit all of us in the League to touch up on our hand-to-hand combat.” Batman looks at Hal’s face, and it’s not hard to tell he’s looking at the fading bruise not fully covered by the green domino mask. 

The Dark Knight turns to the others in the League.

“Black Canary, Wonder Woman, and I will be the group leaders. I have already randomly selected teams.” A holographic diagram is projected for everyone to see. “Powers will be restricted using inhibitor collars. Are there any questions?”

Hal notices the worried looks of Green Arrow and Flash as he looks over the list. Given their talk in his car the other week, he’s training under Batman, which is honestly expected. Hal wonders if the assignments were actually random.

Still, he just offers his friends a reassuring grin before everyone splits up for training and practice.

Time to show Batman just how capable he is.

When it’s time for the two to spar, Hal holds nothing back. He’s obviously not aiming for Batman’s cowl-covered face. Still, he hits the body no longer covered by armor, the one covered in twisted, knotted scars- a brick wall of pure muscle and discipline, the peak of human athleticism.

“Ugh!” Hal grunts as his punch makes contact with the hard material of Batman’s cowl despite his best attempts not to. “Shit!”

The pilot narrowly escapes the billionaire’s low kick, targeting his knees, and he cradles his stinging hand to his chest.

"Spooks, seriously! What's this thing made of, titanium?!" Hal exclaims, frustration evident as he deftly dodges a close Kung Fu knifehand strike aimed at his face, followed by a quick jab with Bruce’s other hand. "We're the only ones left here! Can't we cut the act? It's just you and me now, so take off that ridiculous armor.” Batman does not stop. “I'm starting to think I'll need a construct just to get through this. My hand's gonna be toast if this keeps up."

“It's a custom composite, lightweight but tougher than you think," The man responds with a hint of amusement before smoothly evading a counterattack. "And the cowl stays on. Maybe you should reconsider your technique if you're worried about your hand."

“C’mon, Spooks, please?” Hal doubles over as a punch connects with his side and throws a punch of his own, grazing the vigilante’s shoulder- too afraid to hit the cowl again. “For me?”

Batman notices how Hal’s fighting is impeded by the cowl and sighs, making a T-shape with his hands to indicate a timeout before taking it off and setting it on the ground. It’s strange. To think of fighting Bruce. Of reconciling someone he’s starting to consider a friend and… Batman.

Still, when he meets Bruce’s sharp blue eyes and sees the frown settle on the man’s face, he knows he needs to as he goes to grab Hal’s shirt.

With Bruce’s cowl off, Hal performs better. He’s not afraid to aim near the head, neck, and shoulders. Still, he’s distracted.

“You’re holding back, Jordan. I can sense it.” Using Hal’s last name, it’s like Bruce is trying to still maintain distance between them in this environment. “In the end, it’s not about the ring. It’s about the person wearing it. Show me what you’re made of.”

“I’m trying!” Hal grunts as one of Bruce’s hits lands. “Just trying not to hurt that pretty face of yours.”

“Focus on protecting your own, first.”

They spar for a good half an hour until Bruce successfully grabs Hal’s shirt, throws the man over his shoulder onto the floor, and straddles him. Bruce has his forearm pressed against Hal’s neck, applying just enough pressure to be uncomfortable. They’re both breathing heavily, hair mussed, faces flushed, and far too close for Hal’s comfort. He can feel Bruce’s warm huffs of air tickling his face.

Still, Bruce just stares down at Hal, unmoving.

God, the man is gorgeous. 

“Bruce…” Hal starts, not knowing where he’s going with this. It’s like the training room has fallen away. All he can focus on is the man literally taking his breath away. 

“Jordan.”

“Yeah?” Hal briefly looks down at Bruce’s lips before meeting those blue eyes.

Is he…? 

Does Bruce feel this weird tension, too?

Bruce looks down at him, and the look of confidence morphs into one of concern after a beat. “Are you going to submit?”

“Huh?”

“You should tap out.”

Oh. That’s a little embarrassing.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah, I’m, uh,” Hal taps out and quickly slips out of Bruce’s hold. “Shit, sorry. I need to go.”

“Hal?”

The pilot rushes out of the room, not sparing a second glance behind him.

—

Hal tries to ignore the incident.

He’d say the past week has been going alright. Ignoring things is his specialty.

He still accepted one of Bruce’s invitations to go out, and he didn’t even act weird when the other said anything flirtatious- he just flirted right back on autopilot. 

He and Batman still get along alright. They still have minor differences, but ultimately, they haven’t fought like they usually would have since Hal learned who was behind the cowl.

And maybe that’s the problem.

“Hey, man.” Green Arrow slips his arm over Hal’s shoulder, bringing him down with the weight of it. “What’s with you and Bats?”

“Yeah,” Barry chimes in from Hal’s other side, holding a bagel. “I thought you hated the guy.”

“I never hated the guy. Strongly disliked is more like it.” Hal feels a vague sense of unease in his chest. “But why?”

“Well, you and Bats have been awfully chummy lately.”

“Ollie means to say that you both haven’t looked like you want to rip each other’s throats out. You’re being more civil.” Barry is almost done with his food and talks with some in his mouth, “I mean, Batman thanked you last week when you admitted you needed to focus! I thought he’d have a snarky, growly quip for you.”

“Yeah, well, color me just as surprised. I didn’t expect for Spooky and I to get along either.”

There’s an entertained, shit-eating grin on Ollie’s face. “I thought you wanted to get into Brucie’s pants. Are you done with your boy toy after only a few weeks?”

“What?” This is uncomfortable. Hal is uncomfortable. 

“I’m asking if you’re switching out Brucie for the old Bats. Either way, I must say, your taste in men is atrocious.” Oliver laughs.

“I mean, Brucie sounds nice.” Barry defends. “And Batman isn’t the worst. Ultimately, we all trust the guy to have our backs.”

“Uh oh, GL, looks like you’ve got competition.”

“Shut it, man.” Barry laughs, but it falls short when Hal doesn’t laugh with him.

“Why are you talking like I’ve got a crush or something?”

“Well, don’t you?” Oliver looks at Hal, his eyes behind the mask probably too sharp for the latter’s comfort.

“What the fuck? No! Brucie is just a nice guy. And I just wasn’t in the mood to fight with Batman this week! God forbid I’m nice for once.” Hal huffs, too defensive.

When Oliver and Barry exchange skeptical looks, Hal shrugs Ollie’s arm off his shoulder with a scoff and walks away.

Great, more people to act “normal” around.

He needs to stop fucking things up.

Brucie is just a celebrity crush.

Batman is just a “friendly” coworker.

He’s hardly someone worth mentioning. And sure, Hal rarely lets new people into his life- and the ones he does aren’t usually related back to Earth, nor do they bring him this much fun, but that’s the only reason for his “odd” behavior. 

What happened while training with Bruce was a total fluke. It was just association- Bruce was close, and he, like Hal had pointed out at the beginning of everything, had gorgeous lips. That and the joke he made with Ollie forever ago are the only reasons he would ever think of kissing Bruce.

It’s just that Bruce has been so friendly, Brucie is so flirty, and Batman is so caring— but that’s what causes confusion, not feelings. Hal Jordan does not have feelings for Bruce Wayne.

Besides, he and Bruce? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.

Aside from Hal’s apparent flaws, how would things even work out? Wouldn’t Hal count as a meta in Gotham? Plus, he’s often off-planet; that doesn’t exactly scream relationship material. They’d be billions of miles away from each other on the daily. That’s a lot of parsecs.

Hal is inconsistent in practically everything he does. He changes jobs more often than most people change their underwear. Bruce would provide Hal stability, but Hal wouldn’t be able to provide that for Bruce.

Bruce is so competent, and Hal is the opposite of that.

Bruce has a job, a lavish mansion, and a family. And standards.

Hal doesn’t think he’s strictly up to par.

Plus, things are good between them right now. It would be selfish to ruin things just because he wants to “get in Bruce’s pants,” as Ollie said.

But that’s such a gross simplification of how Bruce makes him feel. 

Bruce is petty and snarky and fun to banter with. He’s a kind and protective family guy and a successful philanthropist. Hal sees just how much of himself Bruce pours into things he loves– is Hal deserving of that? Bruce is thoughtful in the small and grand gestures, from bringing coffee and remembering Hal’s order to inviting him to things he knows Hal would like- inconsequential events simply to spend time with him. He’s confusingly flirty and reassuring, and he makes Hal feel safe.

Hal likes spending time with him.

And yeah, maybe he’s entertained the thought of him and Brucie together once or twice, but it would never work out. Aside from all of Hal’s baggage, fear of commitment, and general issues, there’s no way someone as intelligent and talented and good as Bruce Wayne would ever like him– Hal Fuck-Up Jordan.

—

Hal’s been fucking up.

He was a dick to Batman during a meeting, saying something along the lines of, “Maybe if you spent less time brooding in the shadows, you'd see there's a whole spectrum of emotions out there. As for your reprimand, how about you take it and store it in your utility belt, right next to those sticks you shove up your ass. Trust me, it'll get plenty of shade there."

He sees Batman’s slight frown and promptly ignores the man for the rest of the meeting, which leads to Bruce and Hal in an empty room of the Watchtower; Bruce’s cowl off as he looks into Hal’s mask-covered eyes worriedly.

“Hal, what’s wrong?” Bruce checks in like a worried friend. A good, worried, just-a-friend. 

“I’m just,” just what? Hal falters before settling on something that is not entirely a lie. “I’m just tired. I’ve been job-hunting, and it’s hard to balance that with our schedule- with going along with your whims sometimes, as fun as they are.”

“Hm.”

Here it is, time to push Bruce away.

“Look, Bruce, telling me your identity went well, right? How about you tell your friends, Diana and Clark? They’ve never done anything to make you question your judgment in your friendship, right? And I’m sure they'd be overjoyed.”

The League is split in who has revealed their identities or who has not. Pretty early on, Diana stated her full name to everyone. Clark followed soon after in a show of trust and unity. Hal, Barry, and Oliver are out to each other. Bruce knows everyone, regardless.

“Revealing it to anyone puts not just me but everyone close to me in danger. I can't afford to have Superman and Wonder Woman poking around in my personal life.”

“Come on, Bats, they're your allies. They deserve to know who's standing beside them in the trenches. Secrets have a way of causing more harm than good.”

The hypocrisy is strong here with his possible, more-than-likely crush and intentional pushing away of the man.

“You don't understand, Hal. The less people know about the man behind the mask, the safer we all are. I can't risk exposing my vulnerabilities. Besides, It's not like I can just ring them up and say, ‘Hey, guys, guess what? I'm Bruce Wayne,’ and call it a day.”

“Well, maybe you should. You're a billionaire playboy by day and a caped crusader by night. It's a whole new level of multitasking. Plus, I’m setting a boundary.” Hal stands up a little straighter as he states this. “I can’t say yes to every event you invite me to. Being a Green Lantern, as great as it is, doesn’t keep food on my table. I need to be serious in my job hunting.”

Bruce opens his mouth to speak, but Hal shuts it down.

“And don’t you dare offer me a job, Bruce. I need to figure things out on my own in Coast City. But here's a thought—why not bring Supes and Wonder Woman along to those fancy Wayne events? Clark can work his reporter magic, and Diana, well, she's got that whole gorgeous badass thing going on. Trust me, if it worked out with me, it'll be a breeze with them. You'd have the ultimate power trio turning heads at those soirées.”

Despite Hal pushing Bruce away, some part of him irrationally wants the man to reassure him- to say he only wants Hal by his side, that he’s having as much fun as Hal. He knows that’s not the case when he hears the contemplative hum.

Bruce is seriously considering it, and his heart aches with the knowledge.

“There is merit in your idea.” Knowing this is usually when Hal would chip in with an “I told you so,” Bruce continues speaking. “Don't get carried away, Hal. I'll think about it, but it's not as simple as opening up. It's a calculated risk.”

“Finally seeing the light, huh?”

Yeah, seeing the light of just how much he doesn’t actually need Hal in his life. Gods, he’s so easy to replace, too. 

“I said I’ll think about it.”

Hal wants to follow up with a snarky quip but finds none. Instead, all he can offer is a fake yawn and a pathetic “Good luck, man” before clapping Bruce on the shoulder and giving a poor excuse to leave.

He runs away.

He hates himself.

Hours later, at his apartment in Coast City, moping in his chair with a warm bottle of beer in his hand, he receives a text from Bruce.

Spooky

I remember you said you like sunsets.

[Attachment: Image]

I hope you’re doing alright, Hal. I’m worried.

He leaves Bruce on read.

He takes another swig.

He really hates himself.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe I was right.” Clark gestures to his own face, circling the area around his cheek, focused on where the bullet grazed Bruce’s cheek. “It was just a hunch after Lois told me about the cruise party, but wow. I thought it might’ve just been coincidence for a bit.”

Bruce takes off his cowl before the man, further solidifying his belief- and slack-jawed disbelief. 

“You’re Bruce Wayne? Like the Bruce Wayne?” Clark asks, the picture of awe as he looks between Bruce’s face and the cowl in his hands. “Well, butter my backside and call me a biscuit… It’s nice to meet you properly- er, well, not that the other times weren’t proper, but fully, Bruce. Wayne. Bruce Wayne. Holy cow.”

Clark will be in shock over this for a while. His bumbling reporter personality is more accurate to his character than Bruce initially believed. At least Diana seems calmer- or at least more normal in comparison.

“I am honored that you have told us, Bruce.” Diana smiles down at him, gaze soft and warm. “What brought about this decision, if I may ask?”

“Lantern.”

“What of Green Lantern?” Diana is confused about what Green Lantern, of all people, has to do with this.

“He’s known my identity for nearly two months and encouraged me to tell you both.”

“He knows?” Clark’s brows furrow in concern and worry.

“He figured it out himself.”

“He did?” Clark seems almost as surprised by this fact as he was confounded by being face to face with Brucie Wayne dressed as Batman in the Watchtower.

“And this has led to your more cordial behavior as of late, I assume.” The Amazonian puts the pieces together. “I am glad you two have bonded over this.”

“Bonded over is…” Well, it sounds weird, but Bruce can’t deny it, “an accurate assessment.”

“Really? That’s… wow.” That’s Clark’s polite way of saying “no fucking way.”

“I am happy for you, Bruce,” Diana takes over with more grace. “You and Green Lantern have been at each other’s throats for years now. I’m glad it has finally been put to rest.”

“Not completely,” Bruce recalls how Hal blew up at him just a few days ago and how the man hasn’t returned his calls. Maybe he’s too clingy. Maybe Hal has finally tired of him.

What if Diana and Clark are the same?

Clark notices Bruce’s distress and frowns. 

“Well,” Diana claps down a hand on his shoulder- gentler than usual. Perhaps learning his identity has reminded her that he is human. Or maybe he’s easier to read without his cowl. “Friendships are not without their ups and downs. I am glad the Green Lantern challenges you.”

“Hm.”

“Oh, wow,” Clark seems to notice the apparent change in Bruce’s stance on the man. “Usually, this is when you would make a quip about his mere presence being a challenge. I’m happy for you, uh, buddy …?” 

“Just Bruce, please.”

“Bruce. Got it.”

Diana gives an amused glance to her slightly shorter, super friend.

“I also hoped to have you both accompany me to some events.” Bruce brings it back to business. “I have found it easier to investigate rogues and stop them while someone I trust who understands the situation and has the ability to protect themselves can create a diversion. Robin is not fond of certain events.”

He can tell they’re surprised by the mention of his protege. Usually, Batman shuts down any conversation regarding Robin. They understand it as a show of trust.

“Well, I mean, sure.” Clark shrugs, not bringing attention to it. “So long as you let me interview you for the Daily Planet sometime. Lois always brags about her scoops with you. I’d like to have my chance.”

“I am more than happy to provide assistance as you require it, Bruce, but I'd appreciate your help in raising awareness for my charity event next month. It’s regarding refugee housing and relief efforts- something I’m sure you would support regardless.”

“I’ll be sure to send a nice paycheck and bring attention to the event.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait,” Clark starts. “If you’re Bruce Wayne, don’t you have like… five or six kids?”

“It depends on the criteria.”

“What does that mean?”

All in all, telling his friends goes well.

Things with Hal, on the other hand, are not going well.

Bruce had not even realized how much he had been relying on the man as of late. 

Reading back on his messages, he sighs. He seems so pushy. Hal never asked Bruce for anything, aside from Chinese food at a dinner Bruce pressured him into. As much as Hal jokes about the man’s wealth or identity, he never takes advantage of it.

Bruce clung to him– clung to the natural comfort and friendship he found in the man. He became too relaxed, too touchy, too excitable. While no one would typically associate those words with Bruce, with Hal, he was. He assumed the other appreciated his presence as much as he did Hal’s. Bruce wasn’t as controlled as he usually is, and look where that got him.

Harold Jordan

Sorry Spooks

Can’t go

You should ask Supes

Bruce sighs again as he looks at the latest rejection.

Alright. Sorry to bother you.

Bruce waits for a reassurance that he’s not a bother, that the man is just busy but enjoys his presence, but receives none. All he gets back is a little ‘Read’ note under the message. 

“Father,” Damian starts, arms crossed, as he looks at Bruce from across the table. “Is something wrong?”

“No, Damian.” As Alfred enters the room, Bruce lets out a small huff and pockets his phone, much to the older man’s approval. “Just busy with work.”

Technically, Hal-stuff counts under work, right?

Dinner is a tedious affair, and Bruce feels antsy, ready to go out on patrol and let out this nervous, squeamish anxiety. That is until he hears the incessant dinging of Damian’s phone notifications. The boy just groans.

“Richard has taken it upon himself to message more often.” Damian turns off the ringer of his phone with a scowl. “His messages are distracting.”

Bruce feels his heart sink. Maybe that’s how Hal feels towards him- slight disdain and dismay upon his messages.

As though sensing his father’s worsening mood, Damian looks up, his kohl-lined eyes watching him with blatant skepticism. “Are you sure everything is alright?”

Bruce just hums, looking down at the food. 

Everything is not alright because Hal might secretly hate him, all because Bruce is too controlling, as usual. Bruce ruins everything around him.

It’s this mindset that disrupts their flow during a battle just a day later. Alien robots have invaded Coast City, their crisis of the month, and Batman has somewhat unintentionally given Green Lantern the cold shoulder. While this would be his typical behavior under normal circumstances just weeks ago, avoiding the Lantern in the heat of battle and, he admits, rather pettily ignoring the man’s suggestions and directives in his own city is a dick move.

Green Lantern and Batman are separated from the rest of the League, clambering out of a fallen building, both uninjured due to Hal’s defensive green construct shielding them. Batman’s uncharacteristic recklessness could have gotten them seriously injured or, less likely but still a possibility, killed.

Hal sets them atop the concrete and distorted steel mess before turning to face him, looking far too much like he hates him.

“What the fuck is your problem, Spooky?” Hal shouts, jabbing his finger against Batman’s armored chest, not minding the chaos around them. “Would it kill you to get over yourself and your hurt small-prick ego for a fucking minute? Boohoo, I don’t text you back. I swear, this better not be what this is about.”

It is, but Batman isn’t going to admit that, obviously. Instead, he settles for a growling, venomous, “You think I care about you enough for that?”

“Thank whatever Gods exist that you don’t,” Hal spits out as his face contorts into a contemptuous scowl before flying away towards an explosion a few miles away, too fast for Bruce to follow.

Fuck.

Bruce feels his heart drop in his chest. Whatever friendship he had going with Hal definitely isn’t happening anymore. 

He’s glad no one is there to see the hurt flash across his face, uncontained. 

At least this invasion is a good distraction. 

Still, three days after the battle, he figures he should at least test the waters- see if Hal is willing to accept his apology. 

“Lantern,” Batman starts at the end of a meeting. “Stay. We have something to discuss.”

“Don’t you mean you have something to discuss?”

“Lantern.”

“Is it work-related? Cuz I've got a universe to protect, and unlike you, I don't need to wallow in my own issues to get the job done.”

Bruce is conflicted about how he should answer, and Hal can see this because he begins to walk away.

“Please.”

That gets the attention of a few Leaguers.

It’s not hard to tell Hal is rolling his eyes underneath the white lenses of his domino mask, but he sighs and relents, body language still tense and ready for a fight but less angry- more anticipatory.

“Fine.”

Hal is acting weird, and Bruce feels he’s losing a friend.

Sensing the weird tension, everyone quickly leaves the room aside except Superman, who feels the need to clap his broad hand on Batman’s shoulder with a reassuring, “I’ll be right outside, Bruce.”

Alone in the meeting room, it’s not like previous times when the energy had been lighthearted or even teasing. It’s awkward. It’s tense.

Bruce opens his mouth to say something, and nothing comes out. He does this until Hal takes pity on him.

“So,” Hal lifts a hand and drops it at his side. “You guys are close.”

Batman gives a slight nod. “Per your suggestion, I told Superman and Wonder Woman of my identity.”

“That’s good…”

There’s a painful, lingering silence.

“I assume that's not all you stopped me for–”

“No,” He sighs before taking off his cowl. “I was wondering if you would like to go to another dinner. You seemed to enjoy it last time.”

“Hm.” Hal hums noncommittally. Bruce never knew how much it hurt to be on the receiving end of it.

“I recognize that I haven’t been fair to you, Lantern. I need someone to go to; well, it’s not a need; I don’t give you choices. I want to spend time with you, and I’m… I’m sorr–”

“Bruce,” Superman starts as he bursts back into the room, looking worried. 

Bruce has known the man long enough to know the Kryptonian is only here because he’s frazzled by Bruce’s unusual behavior. He was eavesdropping, then.

Bruce sighs, about to tell Superman to leave when Hal frowns.

“Supes can go with you.” The Lantern tries to smile, likely aiming for feigned nonchalance, but it comes off as forced and cold. “Guess you don’t need me after all.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Clark starts diplomatically, “but I know you can struggle to get along with Bruce sometimes. I’ll take care of it from here.”

Hal’s face falls further into a look of hurt only Bruce can see. Bruce wants Hal to deny those words; he wants to deny those words, but the only thing that comes from his own lips is the breath of the “H.” The split second of hesitation caused by almost revealing the Lantern’s identity in saying Hal’s name in his desperation is enough time for the Lantern to leave.

Bruce’s shoulders drop as he sighs, dejected.

Hal was only just tolerating Bruce, and now he’s overstayed his welcome. They weren’t friends. Bruce was deluded in thinking that. As he looks at the closing sliding door, he’s aware of the movement by his side.

“So, Bruce,” Clark starts, voice gentle and coaxing. “Mind filling me in? And what’s this about a dinner?”

Chapter Text

The Green Lantern Corps needed a handful of Lanterns to check in on a nearby sector, and Hal launched himself at the project, all too eager to leave Earth. If Hal stretched it out, it's a project that should take over a month, closer to two months. 

He, in the spirit of avoidance, obviously planned to do so because how the fuck else is he supposed to confront Spooky?

Hal ruined things.

He always ruins things.

Hal 'Fuck Up' Jordan has done it again, self-sabotaged and isolated himself from someone he cares about. What a shocker! 

It's just like things with Carol: he fucks up, goes off-planet for a few months, and returns like nothing happened.

First of all, why is he comparing his not-even-a-relationship with Batman to his with Carol?

Second of all, he doesn't want that for them! He doesn't want that for himself. It was miserable, getting his heart broken like that.

He remembers Carol's exasperated warning to that fiance of hers. A rushed, "Don't trust him. Underneath that smile he constantly wears is a man that will break your heart." He remembers Carol's frown- the years of hurt in her eyes when she explained why she couldn't be with Hal anymore and moved on to a new guy– for the simple reason of "He doesn't leave."

It was devastating.

It's like she once said: love isn't keeping someone. Real love is sacrifice. That's all it's ever been for Hal or anyone involved with him.

He knows his life isn't fair to her or anyone. He'll always be a Green Lantern before he's Hal Jordan. He'll always be willing to put himself on the line.

And it hurt for someone he loves to say that to him and move on so quickly, not necessarily easily, but without him even knowing they were doing it.

"But you love her," Barry had said, the two of them perched on a rooftop ledge, looking down at the aftermath of a battle they won.

"Always have," came Hal's easy reply. "And if I love her, really love her, don't I want her to be happy? To live her life away from this madness? To not be worrying every time I leave, wondering if I'll return?"

"She worries about me no matter what," Barry replied just as easily. "The question isn't about the what-ifs of the future. The question is, who do you want to face those what-ifs with."

He has to admit, those words had merit, but Carol was happy. He couldn't ruin things for her again.

He doesn't want to ruin things for anyone else more than he needs to. 

His pushing Bruce away is necessary, at least until he can settle his irrational heart.

Besides, it's much easier to pine after the now-unattainable Carol. It's safer, even if it does annoy her a little. He's got a hunch she knows he's self-sabotaging and enjoys the emotional distance anyway.

Carol is all he's really known, relationship-wise. Yes, he's gone for other women, but it always ends with her. Maybe it'll be the same with him and Spooky. Why go through the emotional turmoil of that whole process? He should stick to what he knows.

Hal sighs as he looks at the ship's display, which currently shows the date as the one of the Aviation Expo Bruce invited him to. He hopes the man is doing alright. 

He doesn't hate the Bruce. In fact, it's beginning to lean into the opposite.

Is it possible for him to will his possibly-more-than-just-a-celebrity-crush away?

Bruce probably hates Hal more than before he discovered the billionaire's identity. Bruce trusted him- enough to share his identity, bring him to events, and spend so much time with him (oh God, that two thousand dollar suit) just for Hal to up and leave him because he couldn't keep his monkey brain in check! 

He looks at the Bruce standing in front of him.

"Hey, Spooky," Hal nervously licks his lips, staring at the construct of his friend. "Sorry for being such a dick."

He sighs again.

"No. No. Um." He racks his brain for something better. Bruce deserves better. "Hey, Bruce. Sorry, I guess I was in a bit of a shit mood, huh? Sorry for avoiding you for over a month?" His voice picks up into upspeak at the end, and he hates it.

His apology sounds shallow even to his own ears. What are the odds Batman will forgive him if he kowtows and begs?

"Bruce, you mean a lot to me, and I got scared because everything I love leaves me at one point or another. And you're important to me. You're a trusted teammate and a- a friend, and friends don't shut other friends out like this. I've been a dick, and um, I'm sorry."

The green construct stares at him impassively, and he groans.

"You're right, construct-Batman; that was lame."

Despite the cowl there, he makes the construct agitatedly pinch the spot between his brows.

"Bruce, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you." He looks into the construct's green lenses, where Bruce's eyes would be, and sighs. "I was trying to create distance so that I could leave you before you left me. I'm sure by now you've realized how much of an ass I am."

The construct says nothing.

"I'm not scared of anything, but this makes me… uneasy. I don't know how our friendship will go or if it'll last, and the fact I can't just wing it all makes me feel powerless. I'm sorry for being a bad friend."

That one was a little better, right?

Still, there are no words for him to express all that he feels properly, and even less that wouldn't make Bruce run for the hills.

Hal continues practicing until Kilowog enters the room and raises the area where an eyebrow would be. 

"What the hell are you doing, Jordan?"

He hurriedly dismisses the construct, a little embarrassed. He'll practice on constructs for exposure therapy later.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"Hearing that from you means it's a problem." Kilowog's expression is one of blatant skepticism, an expression Hal has gotten used to seeing on his Bolovaxian features. "Fess up, ya poozer. Is that a construct of that Batman guy? What'd he do this time?"

Even the way Kilowog assumes something is wrong or bad because of Bruce is indicative of their doomed-to-fail relationship- friends or otherwise.

Hal does not "fess up," but using the other Lantern as a distraction always works, so he settles for that, intentionally annoying his friend until he forgets all about Bruce.

It works until he's back planetside. A bit over a month later, a Justice League meeting awaits him and his report. Damn.

He hates playing catch-up.

At least he feels somewhat better. Time away from Bruce did not make the heart grow fonder, and Hal made Killowog list all the times he's vented about Batman to wash away any of those feelings he might've had.

Practice with the constructs helped. Looking at Bruce's unkissable mug, his glaring blue eyes, his not-gorgeous lips curled into a frown, and his cold demeanor that totally doesn't make Hal's heart skip a beat. 

Recognizing how angry the man will be definitely dampens anything other than an insurmountable dread and instinctive urge to fight back. He doesn't have the right to be defensive, unless he does, because sometimes Batman is a dick.

When faced with Superman's warning stare before leaving the League meeting room and Bruce's worried one, he feels like the dick.

"Jordan," Bruce begins, employing Hal's last name—probably a move to maintain a certain distance. However, Hal can't help but wonder if he's overthinking it. "I'm relieved to see you back unharmed."

Hal takes a small, thankfully silent, shuddering breath. Being faced with the actual Bruce is nothing at all like the construct. How could he have been so stupid?

"Well, I try not to make a habit of disappearing on you, but you know how it goes. The universe needed saving again." Hal offers a tight, thin-lipped smile back despite his attempts to keep everything light and casual.

Bruce just nods, and after a second of silence, he speaks up once more. "I wanted to see if you were free on the 27th- if you are amenable to spending time with me…"

"Hey, Bruce, I appreciate the offer, I really do. Unfortunately, I've got a commitment on the 27th that I can't get out of." That's a lie. Judging by Bruce's look, he can tell too. "Let's definitely plan something for another time, though. I owe you a rain check."

They stand in silence again, and Hal is about to leave when Bruce's shoulders droop and his gaze falls to the ground, the white lenses hiding the no-doubt obvious hurt in his eyes. It's always been so easy to read Bruce.

"Are you ignoring me, Jordan?" Bruce sighs. "Let me rephrase. Why are you ignoring me?"

Hal's not dumb enough to deny that he's doing that, so he says nothing, which only seems to upset the man further.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"No!" Hal finds the refusal comes out in an urgent rush. "No, Gods– Bruce, you haven't done anything wrong. It's not about you."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like you hate me." He looks up at Hal, and the downturn of his lips is already heartwrenching. "Do you hate me?"

If he had asked Hal this question three months ago, Hal would have given him an entire list of reasons why he disliked the man, but standing in front of him now, Hal can only shake his head.

"I don't. I don't hate you, Bruce."

"Then?" Bruce's voice is deep and sorrowful, making Hal's chest ache.

"Then nothing, Bruce. Things are fine."

"Things are not fine, Hal- Jordan." Bruce frowns, not knowing what to call him. "Tell me what I did."

"You didn't do anything!"

"Then tell me what you did."

"I didn't do anything."

"Don't lie to me, Lantern."

"Oh fuck off, Spooks." Hal bites back like a wounded dog. 

Bruce, looking more determined than ever, gazes directly into Hal's eyes and speaks with a mix of frustration and vulnerability:

"Hal, we can't pretend everything's fine when it isn't. I've known you long enough to sense when something's off. Be honest with yourself, and tell me, what's wrong?"

"Look, Bruce, it's not about hating or blaming anyone for anything. Things are just... complicated right now. It's not about what you did or didn't do. I've got my own stuff to sort out, and it's not fair to drag you into it. Let's just leave it at that for now, okay?"

"So, what, you'll keep me at arm's length forever?"

Hal doesn't answer that.

"I thought we were friends." Bruce finally admits. "Or at least, were becoming them."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He hates this.

Stuck in a rapidly nosediving state of self-worth, Hal stands in silence.

"I'm sorry." Bruce apologizes for nothing- he's done nothing wrong, but he's apologizing anyway. 

"Don't." Hal finally sighs, looking off to the side. "I'm in the wrong. I'm just… not used to friends."

"And I am?"

"Let me finish." Hal looks back at Bruce. "Everyone I love leaves me or dies, and I got scared thinking of how I could mess things up. Sometimes, I feel like all I have is the capacity to hurt."

"Jordan," Bruce meets his gaze, "I won't lie. There are thousands of ways we can mess this up. But don't let self-sabotage be one of them."

"You deserve better, Spooky. I've been a total asswipe of a friend to you for the past… what, two months? That's the same amount of time we actually spent as friends. Doesn't that seem pretty telling of how that'll end up to you?"

"You think I deserve better?"

"Yeah, Spooks, you do."

"Then be better."

It sounds so fucking simple coming from him in his know-it-all-because-I'm-Batman voice.

They stand with that between them for a minute.

"I'm sorry," Hal finally says, hands hung limply at his sides. "Please don't leave."

Bruce clenches his jaw like the statement resonates with him, and he gives a slight nod. "I won't, Hal."

"Can we be friends again?" Hal can settle for friends. He just doesn't want Bruce to be hurt.

"I should be asking you that."

It all seems so simple and complicated with Bruce.

Despite all the instincts telling him to turn around and run away- to bite and hurt and leave first, he nods. 

"The 27th, then. I'm sure I could work something out."

"I look forward to it."

With Bruce as his friend, Hal feels things will be okay. They just need to stay friends.

How hard can that be?

As Bruce gives Hal a reassuring smile and his heart skips a beat, the pilot recognizes it may be more complicated than he thought.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

“So, you're telling me that you said the Green Lantern Oath as a White Lantern?” Hal laughs, clapping a hand on Bruce’s shoulder as he stands between him and Dick. “I can’t believe that worked out for you.”

“I didn’t even know B had it memorized.” Dick steps closer and slings a friendly arm over Bruce’s shoulder, knocking Hal’s hand off in a friendly but warning manner. 

Ah, that’s right. Bruce hasn’t told his family, aside from Alfred, that he now tolerates Hal’s presence.

“It surprises me too, Nightwing, right? I know I’m a hard guy to forget, but still, you think about me that often, Spooks?”

“Your ability to be unforgettable is debatable, Lantern. Don't flatter yourself.”

“Oh, really now?” Hal sighs, a mock-offended hand resting on his chest. “I’m hurt! Here I thought we were friends again, Bats.”

“Hm. Maybe it’s not too late for me to rescind my decision.” He hopes Hal doesn’t take it the wrong way.

“It’s definitely too late.” Hal just smiles at Bruce, uncaring of Nightwing’s confused glare. “We were cowboy, dinosaur-fighting, slingshot wormhole travel buddies. We both agreed the dinosaurs were gorgeous creatures. We bonded over that. No take-backsies.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you know that from your own experience being an insufferable guy, huh?”

“No.”

“Mhm, sure, big guy.”

Bruce thinks his son has seen news and articles, but judging by his expression, maybe he hasn’t. Dick looks between the two before cocking his head towards Bruce, a thin-lipped smile on his face as though asking what the hell is going on.

“Green Lantern, Nightwing.” Bruce gestures from Hal to his eldest son before doing the opposite. “Nightwing, Green Lantern.”

“I know who he is, B. We've all worked on big League missions together.” Dick just quirks a brow at Hal before turning back to his mentor. “Since when were you two friends?”

“We’ve always been friends.” Hal lies with a smug grin on his face. “Bats and I go way back. I'm just the charming guy he can't resist.”

“Are you now?” Bruce retorts with a smile.

"Oh, really? You two, friends? I find that hard to believe, but I guess it aligns with Batman’s typical bad taste in people.” Dick jokes, but it’s jabbing at both Bruce and Hal.

Bruce knocks into his son’s side and looks worriedly at Hal, who laughs before leaning in almost conspiratorially towards Nightwing when he sees no one else is around. “You know, kid, you really live up to your name.”

“What?” Dick gives a nervous laugh, testing the waters much like Bruce had. “Nightwing?”

“No.” Hal seems confident in his deduction skills, not that it’s a difficult leap from Batman to Nightwing’s identities. “Dick.”

Bruce sees the way Dick bristles at his revealed identity.

"Sharp eye you got there, Harold Baines Jordan.” Dick throws the pilot’s identity right back at him. “Just remember, not everyone appreciates having their secrets out in the open. Though I’ll let you know, I was a fan of yours as a kid, so I’ll let this slide."

“Damn, Bruce.” He sees how his son’s head unconsciously jerks in surprise at Hal’s casual name-dropping of him. “Are all your kids this feisty?”

“Hm.” The corner of his lips curls slightly upwards. “Dick is normally the nicer one.”

Hal just laughs and slaps Bruce’s injured shoulder, earning a grunt from him. “Well, I’ll be damned. He really is your kid, Spooks.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

"Well, Bats, if you're serious about me taking on the Wayne last name, I've gotta win over the next generation.” Hal refers to Bruce’s ‘My last name would suit you better’ joke, “Step one: getting your kids to like me. Any pointers, or should I just wing it?"

Bruce’s heart skips a beat, though it’s only because Dick will misunderstand.

Dick groans at the emphasis on “wing” for “Nightwing” before he freezes. “Wait, Bruce, what does he mean by that?”

Bruce isn’t quite sure how to answer that, so Hal saves his bacon.

“Brucie.”

His eldest son sighs. “That checks out.” Dick levels him with a tired, assessing stare. “On the note of things checking out, we should get you checked out back at the cave.”

“A wonderful idea. Don’t you agree, Master Bruce?” Alfred’s voice comes in through the earpiece. “We should ensure you have not been affected by an alien spore.”

“An alien spore has not infected me.” Much to Hal’s confusion, Bruce speaks aloud, defending himself from Alfred’s accusation.

Luckily, Nightwing takes pity on Hal and points to his ear. “Agent A.”

The Lantern nods, understanding Alfred as a communicative informant or something adjacent.

“If the Green Lantern is amenable,” Alfred’s tone of voice is knowing and asking without asking, “perhaps he can help with a thorough examination. His knowledge in this field would make me feel much better.”

Bruce feels like he’s walking into a trap - like Alfred is just trying to get him to socialize more, but he does want to quell the man’s supposed fears…

“Hal, are you free to return to the cave with Nightwing and me?”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me? Hell yeah!” Hal hovers above the ground just a little higher, his excitement shining through. “I call dibs flying the Batjet!”

“You can fly on your own, Jordan.”

“Yeah, but if you want me to help with schematics like you said, don't I need to figure out how to collaborate with the girl if we're gonna make this work?”

Both Dick and Bruce sigh.

They all end up squeezed into the Batjet, Hal happily smiling as he flies them back.

—

Bruce is not infected with alien spores, much to Alfred’s relief.

Hal is infected with contagious joy as he looks over the new Batjet schematics.

“I know I’ve told you this before, but she’s one gorgeous girl.” Hal lets out a low whistle, hands in his flight jacket’s pockets.

Bruce feels slightly uncomfortable at the low whistle, for some inconceivable reason imagining what it would be like if it were directed towards him for a second. 

Weird.

“Look at these.” Bruce sprawls out the various schematics he and Lucius have made on an empty table. 

Hal briefly peers at them before he points to one and shakes his head in disapproval. “Too much drag- would be like trying to fly through molasses.”

“Hm.” Bruce thought it was a good design. “How do you figure?”

“Poor streamlining, for one,” Hal summons a mini construct of the jet and flies it around the cave, “and suboptimal wing configuration, for the second.”

Hal flies it close to Bruce and slows it down.

“See? Hell, she might even fly a bit slower than what you’ve got right now.”

“Hm.” Bruce concedes. He made a good decision in getting Hal’s opinion on things.

“Here, show me the next one?” The pilot leans in close, almost touching Bruce’s side with his own as he leans over the blueprint, gaze sharp and focused in a way Bruce rarely sees outside of dangerous situations where the leader in Hal comes out. 

He feels a strange surge of pride at how bright his friend is and another every time Hal compliments a particular feature. 

Eventually, they talk schematics and hypotheticals well into the next day, taking so long that even Dick went upstairs to rest. Hal’s confidence in his knowledge puts Bruce’s mind at ease.

“Master Bruce, Master Jordan,” Alfred brings down a tray of unusually stereotypical sandwiches and tea, much to Hal’s glee. It seems he’s serving it for the sole reason of entertaining Hal. “Might I encourage you both to take a break?”

“Alfred,” Hal starts after happily grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. “I’ve only personally known you for a few hours, and you’re already my favorite.”

“I’m glad to hear it, sir.” Alfred’s amused smile is fond before he turns a sharper look towards Bruce. “Now, Master Bruce, please follow Master Jordan’s example and eat.”

Bruce isn’t all that hungry, so he minutely shakes his head and continues working on the math to calculate resistance for the new wing shape Hal has proposed.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred starts, his tone all too much like a scolding father. “Might I remind you that you were dead less than a day ago?”

Hal chokes on his sandwich and thumps his fist on his chest before croaking out, “You fucking died?”

“Language,” Bruce warns, not denying the question.

“That he did.”

“Vandal Savage shot me through the chest in Crime Alley.”

“Jesus, Spooky.” Hal frowns, hackles raised. “I’m glad we beat the shit out of that guy.”

“Language,” he futilely warns again.

“And you’re alright, right?”

“He is, though I believe he would be better if he had something to eat. Don’t you agree, Master Jordan?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce wants to argue, but as though sensing the answer, Alfred continues to speak.

“And did you know, Master Jordan, what his last words were?”

Bruce’s face flushes, and he hurriedly grabs a sandwich.

“Very good, Master Bruce.”

“Wait, what were his last words?”

“Perhaps Master Bruce shall tell you himself.” Alfred, that betrayer, gives Bruce a smile before walking away, empty tray in hand, as though nothing happened.

Hal worriedly watches Bruce eat the sandwich, and when he’s sure the man won’t choke, he asks the dreaded question.

“So…?” Hal looks curious and worried, his brow furrowed and a frown on his face.

Bruce doesn’t like that expression on him. He doesn’t like the question either, so he remains silent.

Hal sighs. “Look, Spooky, I, though very curious, can probably live without hearing your last words- even though I’m dying to hear it. At least answer my other question. Are you alright?”

Bruce is surprised at Hal’s willingness to drop the question to focus on his well-being. Well, he’s not that surprised, but he’s touched. Hal has always been a kind person.

“I died,” he answers after a silence, as though that’s enough of an answer.

Hal’s face morphs into one of understanding and pity, so maybe it is.

“I was shot and died in Crime Alley, the same place as my parents, and,” Bruce resolutely does not cry, “I was afraid. I was angry, and I was afraid.”

“Well, yeah, dying is scary.”

“It’s not that. I was afraid for you- that Savage would come after you next.”

“Bruce…”

“There were a million things that could’ve, should’ve, come to my mind; about Alfred and the kids, Batman, The League, Wayne Enterprises, not saying goodbye to anyone— all that… but you were in my dying thoughts.”

Bruce uncharacteristically finds himself choked up, his eyes misty as he steps close to Hal and places a hand on his arm, relieved at the warmth radiating underneath his palm. “I’m glad you’re okay, Hal.”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” Hal similarly looks misty-eyed. Bruce can tell the man won’t be able to hold back tears for long. He clears his throat as he fights back tears. “I lost you. I lost you, and I didn’t even know it.”

“I’m right here. I’m okay.”

“Spooks…” Hal’s voice cracks with emotion as he reaches out slowly enough that Bruce can detect his intentions. The pilot pulls him into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Bruce tentatively returns the hug. Hal’s arms are draped over his shoulders, so his own need to rest just above the Californian’s hips.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry that you died. I’m sorry for anything ever, except things I was right about.”

They both try to laugh at that, though it sounds strained on both ends. There’s a brief pause as Bruce collects his thoughts, doing his best to allow himself to be vulnerable.

He trusts Hal. Hals has quickly become someone Bruce wants to spend time with, yearns for it even. If there’s anyone he can be vulnerable around, the Lantern has proven himself to be one of them.

“My last words were: I hope Green Lantern is okay.”

Bruce hears the man’s resulting slight gasp, the tight clenching of his jaw as he tries not to cry, and feels the tears that wet the collar of his casual clothes.

He pulls Hal closer and holds him close, all in the hopes of reassuring him.

“You’re an idiot, Bruce.”

“Am I, now?” His own voice is placating, gentle, and amused. Despite the situation and vulnerability, he feels at ease. He feels warm with the evident care of the other.

“You are.” Hal sniffles. “I’m taking the title of smartest in the League now.”

“Hm.” Bruce’s answering hum is warm and fond, not disagreeing.

As they stand in the cave, Bruce is struck with just how much he trusts the man in his arms. When did Hal Jordan stop being a threat?

He would typically feel a strong sense of disorientation and unease at the realization; maybe it’s because of the grounding hug or Hal’s good company, but as he calms the other down, he finds he doesn’t mind.

He doesn’t mind at all.

Chapter Text

Despite Hal’s expertise with anything that flies, they take a long time to work through potential design flaws for the Batjet upgrade, partly due to Hal’s brief crying spell earlier. They work out possible kinks in the modified wing shape, though.

They take long enough that Alfred calls them both up for brunch. Whether it’s closer to breakfast or lunch, Hal doesn’t know. He only knows that those tiny tea sandwiches can only get someone so far.

He follows Bruce up the Batcave and into the Manor, a more lavish place than he could have ever imagined. It’s like a goddamned museum. Honestly, it’s a little overwhelming- he probably has a dozen rooms just for his suits. You don’t get a mansion like that by being humble and down to earth. All that wealth has to go somewhere.

“Richard, that is disgusting,” Hal hears a young teen, pre voice drop, speak with open disdain as they walk down the hallway into the dining room.

“Cereal and orange juice is a good combo! It’s a staple breakfast,” Dick chirps back, voice self-satisfied in a way only an older brother’s can be. It’s the same way Hal would be with Jim, and Jack used to be with him.

“Not mixed though, you heathen. It’s disgusting.” 

Dick just laughs and lets out an “Ow” when the younger presumably hits his side.

Hal misses his brothers and family, and his heart aches with want and yearning.

They’ll never be happy together again.

His chest aches.

Metaphorically shaking his head clear of these thoughts, Hal tries to focus on enjoying a comfortable family atmosphere once more, even when he’s leveled with the young teen’s assessing glare.

“Hey, kid.” Hal starts backtracking immediately when the glare turns into a scowl. “Not a kid- got it, you don’t gotta tell me, haha. You’re Damian, right?”

“And you’re someone with a lot of nerve, addressing me so personally.” The teen quickly retorts, not forgiving Hal’s previous transgression. “I am Damian Wayne. Who are you, and why are you here?”

“Damian,” Bruce smiles at the boy, and Hal can see the boy’s hackles visibly dissipate. “This is Harold Jordan.”

“The puerile Green Lantern?”

“Jeez, Spooks, do all your kids know me?” He doesn’t even know what a puerile is. What does it mean? Leave it to Hal to be shown up by a not-a-kid.

“We would be fools not to know who Father’s coworkers and constituents of The League are.”

Dick just gives a conceding shrug beside Damian, agreeing with him.

“You really are your dad’s kid, huh?” Hal notes with fond amusement, the grin on his face only widening when Damian seems to preen under the observation.

“Of course.”

Hal can see Bruce’s smile out of the corner of his eye and watches as Damian indignantly squawks when Dick musses his hair affectionately.

“It’s nice to meet you outside of uniform properly, Harold.” Dick greets, seemingly more amicable when in the younger boy’s presence.

“Eugh, Gods- just call me Hal, please. The full name makes me feel like I’m in trouble for something.”

“Knowing you,” Damian starts, “it would not be incorrect to assume you are.”

Dick’s brows jump, and he smiles before knocking into Damian’s side. “Manners,” he chides, far too happy for it to be a genuine rebuke or warning.

“Boys…” Bruce shakes his head and sighs, waving Hal to sit beside him. 

The seating arrangement is Bruce next to Hal. Dick sits across from him, and Damian across from his father.

It’s a proper family meal. He hasn’t been to one of these in forever. He hasn’t even spoken to Jim, the brother he is on good terms with, for months.

“Master Bruce and Master Jordan,” Alfred greets them when he enters the room with a tray of pancakes and assorted fruits. “Breakfast?”

Dick looks up from his orange juice mixed with cereal abomination at the pancakes with undisguised want.

“I will get you some buckwheat pancakes as well,” Alfred sighs. “Master Richard, I do believe you were raised and taught not to play with your food.”

“It’s just some culinary creativity,” Dick defends, taking a bite likely just to spite Damian. “Gotta keep things interesting, you know?”

“Dick…” Bruce sighs.

“C’mon, B! Think about it; it saves time!”

To Hal’s horror, Bruce seems to be genuinely thinking it through.

“Bruce…” Hal is the one who sounds disapproving and disappointed for once, and the mild amusement at that fact does not take away from the disturbance he feels at the other's eating habits.

“I can see merit in it,” Bruce starts, looking almost embarrassed as he glances at Hal from the corner of his eye, “but I think I will stick to my ration bars.”

“Ration bars?” Hal’s heart hurts. The man has a literal butler for a father and a giant mansion, but he sticks to eating those!? “Gods, Spooky. If I had someone like Alfred, I don’t think I could ever go back to ration bars.”

“Thank you for recognizing that, Master Jordan.” Alfred looks righteously pleased; his head tilted slightly upwards pridefully. “Perhaps there is much Master Bruce might learn from you.”

Hal feels his chest warm at Alfred’s smile.

He misses his dad. 

Hal pulls his flight jacket tighter against himself before taking a bite of the pancakes.

“Oh, Alfred,” Hal moans around the fork, only slightly embarrassed by his lack of manners, “I would marry you if I could eat this every day.”

“Please don’t marry Alfred.” Bruce simultaneously looks amused and put out by the comment. 

“Then, what? Are you throwing your hat in the ring for my affections?” Hal jokes, heart racing a little faster.

“I’m trying to stop you from taking Alfred away from my kids and me, that’s what.”

“Aw, c’mon, B. I’m sure we have room for one more person in this family.” Dick eggs on, likely aiming to nudge Bruce’s foot under the table but hitting Hal’s instead. Hal kicks against his foot back.

Dick just smiles and continues his foot’s assault against Hal.

“You know, I always thought you were cool, Hal.” Dick continues, feeding into the idea of Hal as his stepfather. “I remember telling Bruce that even your secret identity was cool when I was a kid. I mean- a test pilot? Coolest thing ever.”

"Ah, I suppose that's marginally better than a mundane office occupation," Damian concedes with a barely perceptible nod. "Still, whether you meet my father's standards and mine remains to be seen."

Hal remembers the offhanded comments Bruce has made about Damian’s interests in the past.

“I’ll take you to a wildlife sanctuary sometime. There’s the Marine Mammal Center in Coast City. And did you know I have an adopted sea lion under my name?”

“You mean those adopt-a-sea-lion things? Are they genuinely effective?”

“Oh, yeah. The World Wildlife Fund’s money goes towards saving critically endangered species, global warming and habitat loss relief efforts, and supporting environmental studies.” Hal’s glad he knows this information- it makes him feel smart. “Did you know there are over nine thousand animals on the critically endangered species list, and twenty-one animals went extinct in 2023 alone? I watched a thing on it.”

"Hm, you watch animal documentaries then? I have a list of preferred ones," Damian responds, his tone still guarded but slightly intrigued.

Hal doesn’t have the heart to tell the kid he learned this info from a TikTok, so he just nods and smiles. “That’s great. It’s always good to be informed of this sort of thing. Mind sending me the list sometime?”

"I suppose I could," Damian says, his expression softening just a fraction. "Consider it a gesture of moderate respect, Jordan. Perhaps you are ranked above some of Father’s past suitors. Don't let it go to your head."

This joke is making Hal’s face flush under the positive attention. “I’m very honored, Damian. Thank you.”

Dick, noting Damian’s good mood, looks pleased as well. “See? You should marry him, B.” Hal feels the man’s foot nudge him underneath the table, teasing.

“Hm. I’ll consider it.” Bruce pointedly doesn’t make eye contact with Hal and looks relieved when Alfred comes in holding coffee.

Hal didn’t even notice Alfred coming and going. Maybe that’s where Bruce got his unnerving ability to disappear and reappear in silence.

“Alfred, I love you.” Hal gratefully accepts coffee, and a startled laugh falls from his lips as he looks at Bruce’s mug. “Batdad, huh? Where’d you even get something like that?”

Bruce smiles against the rim of it when he takes a sip.

“I got him that mug,” Dick chimes in. “Isn’t it great?”

“It’s perfect for him.”

Dick preens under the validation. “See, B? I told you I’m great at giving gifts.”

“I never said you weren’t, chum.”

Hal huffs a chuckle at the exchange.

Seeing Bruce with his guard down is interesting- even less guarded than he’s grown to be with Hal. It’s domestic, even, seeing Bruce as a father. It’s almost what Hal would consider to be intimate.

Is it really okay for him to be here? He doesn’t feel worthy to be surrounded by this homeliness- this warmth.

He isn’t even sure if he deserves to be forgiven by Bruce for leaving those two months and ignoring him.

Bruce deserves so much better.

As Hal watches the billionaire eat his pancakes slowly- not for lack of interest in the food, but to spend more time with his children, with soft smiles he’s never seen before- directed towards them, Hal feels his heart ache with the raw want of how much he wants to stay.

There’s a slight sense of bitterness, too. Hal wishes he had this. He wanted this warm childhood home, and he wished things stayed okay after his dad died. He wishes he had grown up in a house this homely.

It’s a lonely thing to grieve what you’ll never have.

Eventually, Dick and Damian finish their meals and excuse themselves, and it’s just Hal, Bruce, and his thoughts. He’s brought out of it by a hand on his shoulder.

“Hal.” He feels Bruce’s thumb rub back and forth, comforting where it touches. “Something is bothering you.”

“Just tired, Bruce.”

“It’s more than that.” Bruce tilts his head and leans closer to better look at Hal’s expression. “Talk to me.”

“Bruce…” He tries to smile, but he can tell it’s not convincing. “It’s no big deal.”

“Hal.” Bruce’s voice is like a blanket on his shoulders, fresh out of the dryer. He wants to swim in it. “We’re friends. We’re supposed to be there for each other. You’ve been distracted by something since we left the cave.”

“I just…” Hal sighs as he falters. “I feel like I don’t deserve to be here- that I don’t belong to be somewhere so full of love. I haven’t just been with my family, or a happy family, in forever.”

“Why?”

“Because I ruin things. I don’t belong here.” Hal’s leg begins anxiously bouncing underneath the table. 

Bruce’s hand moves from his shoulder to his thigh, reassuringly squeezing it. “You belong here because I want you here, Hal.”

“If you knew me, you wouldn’t want that.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t.” Hal knows Bruce doesn’t know all of him. If he did, he wouldn’t still be here. “You don’t know how fucked up I am. How broken I am, Spooks.”

“Everyone is broken to some degree.”

“How unloveable I am, then.”

“You’re not unloveable, Hal.”

“And how would you know?”

Bruce’s hand twitches on his thigh before he sighs and looks away. “You’re my…” There’s a slight pause. “My friend. And I have found that I’ve grown fond of you. Hal.”

“That’s a dumb thing to do.”

“No, Hal.” Bruce shakes his head slightly, reaching out and putting his hand back on the pilot’s shoulder. He isn’t sure if he imagined Bruce briefly looking at his lips. “It’s one of the best things I’ve done.” Bruce smiles, a kind Hal has never received before. He feels his heart flutter despite the hurt and angst he feels. “It’s why I’m the smartest in the League.” 

“Oh?” A corner of his lip quirks upwards. “Taking back your title, Spooky?”

“I deserve it, don’t I?”

“Hm,” Hal meets Bruce’s striking blue eyes. “Maybe.”

“I do.” Bruce’s gaze softens as he looks at him, looking at him with so much warmth and confidence. “I do,” he repeats.

A small part of Hal finds he believes him. “You’re making a mistake,” he warns.

“Then it’s one I’m happy to make,” Bruce reassures. “Come next Saturday. Have breakfast with me and the kids.”

Is Bruce really inviting him deeper into his personal life? 

“Spooks… I thought you said it was dangerous.”

“I thought you deal with bigger issues on the daily that won’t affect my family. Isn’t that what you said once? And they love you, Hal.”

“Well, I dunno about that.” 

“They like you,” Bruce concedes.

“What about you?”

“You’re tolerable,” is the teasing reply.

Hal arches a brow, leaning imperceptibly closer. “Just tolerable?”

“I said I wanted you here, didn’t I?”

“Ah, so just a step above it.” Hal smiles at him. “A glowing review.”

“Happy to provide.” Bruce smiles back.

Hal can’t deny it. He doesn’t want to deny it. 

Hal Jordan likes Bruce Wayne.

Chapter Text

“So,” Jason greets Hal as he steps in through the entryway, the pilot looking tense as he’s immediately ambushed. Jason and Bruce had had a menial conversation while waiting for him. “You’re the Green Lantern that Bruce is always complaining about?”

“Complaining, huh?” The pilot questions, putting on an unbothered facade as he holds his hand out for a handshake. “The name's Hal Jordan, but you probably already knew that, considering the complaints." 

“Jason.” He reaches forward and gives Hal a firm shake, evident by the way Hal’s smile widens, and Bruce can see his hand tense as he matches his strength.

“Good handshake,” Hal praises, shoulders relaxing slightly, reassured by Jason’s welcoming gesture.

“Only the best for someone who’s also a headache to Bruce.” Jason smiles before letting go, unconsciously nodding his head in approval. 

"Yeah, well, you know how it is with Spooky. Always finding something to fuss over," The man looks Bruce’s way as he says that, his grin cheeky. 

“That’s because you do things worth fussing over,” Bruce notes, voice flat- amusedly and playfully annoyed. 

“Not all the time,” Hal argues.

“About ninety-nine percent of the time, Hal.”

“Eh,” Hal shakes his hand side to side in a ‘kinda, but not quite there’ motion. “Maybe ninety-five max.”

“That’s still an abysmal amount,” Bruce resists the urge to pinch his temples.

“Well, I didn’t die within the past month, unlike a certain somebody, so,” comes his playful, pointed reply.

Jason startles and looks at him, eyes wide. “Wait, Bruce, you died? Again? When?” 

“Don’t tell Damian.”

“Fuck that, old man. Answer my question.”

Bruce sighs, looks at Hal, like, ‘Look what you did,’ and sighs again as he leads Jason to the side to explain things. He waves his hand, letting the Lantern know he can go where he pleases, shooing him away during this potentially emotional conversation.

The talk goes relatively well, if only for the fact that they can’t spend long on the topic before breakfast goes cold and because they have a guest. Bruce pretends not to notice Jason’s worried stares and the way he seems almost to hover close to him while they walk to the dining room. Everyone is standing just a few feet away from the table, talking.

“So, as I was saying, B-man totally didn’t notice…” Stephanie leans in close to Hal's ear, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Beside her, Cass wears a barely contained grin, while Hal can't help but laugh at Stephanie's audacity.

“Kid-who’s-not-a-kid, you’re a genius,” Hal chuckles, shaking his head in amazement. “You gotta keep me updated on how it goes, alright? Maybe even snap some pics for evidence.”

“Only if you've got some juicy blackmail material of your own,” Stephanie teases, a playful glint in her eyes.

Bruce feels his instinct for recognizing danger kicking in. He barely resists a shiver.

“Be nice,” Cass warns the two, leaning into Steph, whose arm is slung over the woman’s shoulders.

“Hey, I'm always nice,” Hal protests with mock sincerity.

Stephanie flashes a mischievous grin. “I’m always nice too!”

Cassandra doesn’t believe them, though her own eyes betray her amusement. 

Bruce watches the exchange with an amused snort. “Nice, perhaps. Well-behaved? Not so much.” He smirks, enjoying the camaraderie of his unconventional family.

Stephanie flashes a playful grin at Bruce, feigning offense. "Hey, who said being well-behaved was any fun anyway?" She nudges Hal and Cass with her side as if seeking solidarity in defying Bruce's remark. "We're just keeping things interesting, B-man. You should thank us for adding a little excitement to your life. Otherwise, it'd just be all brooding and crime-fighting. We're doing you a favor, really.”

Hal joins in with a chuckle, nodding in agreement. "Exactly! Who needs well-behaved when you've got us around, right?"

"What I truly need is a cup of coffee and for you lot to refrain from teaming up,” Bruce deadpans, voice steeped in dry humor and slight exasperation. 

“You both will give Bruce heart problems,” Cass notes, voice flat aside from the teasing curl at the end of her sentence.

“Not like the old man doesn’t cause enough of those problems for himself,” Jason smiles, leaving Bruce’s side to join the others. “Hey, Lantern, did he ever tell you about when I moved everything in the cave two inches to the left? That shit was great.”

“Ooh!” Steph interjects. “Or the time he had to wear a rainbow Batsuit?”

“Oh, yeah- I think I saw photos of that on Twitter or something.” Hal nods along. “And Jason, that’s so evil. Bet you flipped out, huh, Spooks?”

“It was puerile.” Bruce huffs. He notes, with amusement, that he must’ve been who Damian learned the word from. “I realized he moved things right away relative to the immovable Batcomputer, but I still sustained multiple bruises before I figured out it was him.” Bruce sighs. “I thought it was Dick before I found a note from Jason.”

Hal chuckles. “Spooky is biased, I’d know. You know how many times he’s assumed I was the one to mess stuff up?”

Bruce resists the urge to roll his eyes. They do not need to bring up past League arguments right now, especially not in front of his kids.

“Alright,” Bruce ushers everyone to sit down, guiding them to the table by sitting in his chair first. “Hal, sit beside me.”

“No,” Hal petulantly replies before doing exactly as Bruce suggests.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you, Lantern?”

“I know I’m funny, Bruce.” 

“Are you?”

“Well, you’re smiling, gorgeous, so I know I am.”

“You’re puerile and cocky,” Bruce notes, mirth in his tone.

“You keep throwing that pew-something word around. And, hey, the only thing cocky about me is my–” Hal gets cut off.

“Uh, wow.” So distracted by Hal, Bruce barely recognized Dick come into the room, Damian following behind him. Bruce thanks whatever gods who exist for the fact that Hal didn’t finish his joke. “I feel like I’m intruding,” the eldest says, ending his words with an uncomfortable laugh.

“Tt.” Damian clicks his tongue as they take the same seats as last time, across from Hal and Bruce. “It is disconcerting to be greeted with this so early in the morning. Please save whatever you were about to say for never.”

“No, for real.” Jason takes his seat, and the others in the room follow suit. “Mind flirting with our Dad when we’re not here?”

Bruce, despite his embarrassment and the knowledge that Jason is likely only calling him “Dad” to further chastise and spite the Lantern, feels his heart skip a beat at the label. 

“I think it’s cute!” Stephanie chimes in, rocking side to side and kicking her feet under the table. 

“Very,” Cass follows.

Hal lets out an uncomfortable, chuffed laugh. “I’m not…” An embarrassed grin comes onto his face, and his cheeks turn pink as he avoids the kids’ gaze.

“It’s not like that.” Bruce comes to the man’s defense, and he’s leveled with a sea of disbelieving stares.

“Is that why Hal is your wallpaper, then?” Tim quips, Duke beside him, casually entering the room and saying something Bruce knows will cause him a future headache. He doesn’t even have the decency to look up from his phone, the other hand holding an energy drink he couldn’t wait to have. “I saw it during a WE meeting.” He looks up to introduce himself with a brief “Tim” and looks back at his phone.

“Wait,” Duke starts, looking between Hal and Bruce with a disbelieving grin. He takes one of the empty seats. “Green Lantern is your wallpaper?” He raises his hand and nods his head upwards slightly as a greeting. “I’m Duke, by the way.”

“No fucking way,” Jason guffaws, and Bruce can see Hal shrinking in his seat, blush worsening.

“Damn,” Hal lets out a nervous laugh, hands awkwardly resting over his tableware. “So much for first impressions.”

Dick makes a high-pitched, disagreeing hum. “To be fair, we’ve heard Bruce whine about you for years. Your first impression on us kinda already…”

Hal turns away from Dick to shoot Bruce a withering glare, though his embarrassment dampens it. “Jackass.”

“Like you haven't complained about me to Barry, Oliver, or even your Kilowog friend.” Bruce fires back. 

Hal just dramatically sighs, not refuting it, before looking back at the kids. “So, is this everyone, or do you have more kids I don’t know about?”

Bruce and the kids look at each other, contemplating the correct answer.

“Technically, in this universe and timeline, this is all of us,” Dick replies.

“I would like to note I’m not officially his kid,” Steph argues. Bruce sees her as his sort of child, but he knows that goes unsaid between them. It has always been complicated. “Not that I don’t love ya, Bruce.”

“I…” Hal looks unsure how to process the comment about multiple children from multiple universes addendums. “Okay. I don’t think I’m ready to hear about any of that before I have a cup of coffee… or five.”

Alfred comes into the room, pushing a tray of food and, low and behold, the bitter nectar of the gods. “Well then, Master Jordan, I am happy to provide.”

Hal takes a breath, but Bruce cuts him off before saying anything. “Please refrain from proposing to Alfred.”

Hal deflates.

“Has that happened before?” Tim asks, raising his brow and looking at Hal with thinly veiled judgment.

“Only as a joke!” Hal defends himself, though Alfred tuts soon after.

“You wound me, Master Jordan.” Alfred pours two cups of coffee, one for Bruce and one for Hal, setting it down in front of them. “Though I suppose I could forgive you if you provide more glowing reviews about my cooking.”

“Oh, Alfred.” Hal smiles. “I could do that all day.”

“Very good, sir.”

“Wow,” Jason cocks his head, nodding in approval once more. “You got on Alfred’s good side. He’s giving you the best mug.”

It’s true. Alfred is giving Hal a nice, heat-insulating, thick cream mug- one they all usually fight over. The table of children relaxes slightly at this observation. To earn the trust of both Bruce and Alfred- enough to let you into their home? You’re practically golden at that point.

“Master Jordan has provided much help to Master Bruce, especially as of late.” Alfred serves food, though when he says this, he looks at Bruce like he’s encouraging (telling) him to thank the pilot.

Bruce clears his throat. “Yes. I am very thankful for everything, Hal.”

Hal, unable to miss an opportunity, grins and looks at Alfred with awe. “Who knew an Alfred was all Bruce needed to start saying thanks?” His eyes crinkle joyfully, and the slight crow’s lines show his age. “Say, Alfred, how would you like to join the League?”

The Californian lets out a startled mix between a laugh and a grunt when Bruce thwaps the back of his hand against his chest.

“Master Bruce!” Alfred admonishes.

Bruce can’t find it in himself to be sorry, especially when he hears Hal’s laugh.

“Easy there, Batman.” Hal chuckles, voice teasing but affectionate. “Violence isn’t always the answer.”

“For you, I think it may be.” Bruce raises a brow, all too aware of how his children seem to watch them like a show. “Do I need to remind you of what you did to those men on the cruise?”

“Hey, they deserved it.”

“Hal protected Bruce,” Cass chimes in, a large stack of pancakes nearly blocking her face “but breathing was not good. Barbara showed me a video. You need to exhale on punches.”

Hal’s brows raise. “Noted. Anything else?”

“I will need to see you fight in person.” Cass practically invites the man to spend time with her. Bruce is a little surprised.

Hal smiles, not recognizing the significance of earning the woman’s trust. “I’d be glad to take any pointers. Can’t always rely on the ring.”

“You can spar against me,” Jason offers, cracking his neck. “It’s been a while since I focused primarily on boxing.”

“Or me,” Tim offers. “ I don’t box, but I use other martial arts.”

“Count me in, man.” Duke flashes a bright smile, dimples on his cheeks. “I’m the only meta here, so sparring with your constructs could be interesting.”

Soon, all of Bruce’s battle-ready children are offering themselves up.

"Let us save discussions of sparring for a more suitable time, perhaps after breakfast," Alfred suggests with a gentle but firm tone, his gaze sweeping over the assembled family with affection and authority. It's a rare occasion when the entire family gathers, and Alfred takes his place at the table. "We ought to eat. We should always wait for our food, not leave it waiting for us. Please, do help yourselves."

The room is filled with a cacophony of “thank yous,” pleased hums, scattered conversations, and sounds of eating.

“It’s so homely,” Hal turns to Bruce, a smile on his face. “I can’t remember ever being at a family breakfast this big.”

“Never?” 

“Never.” Hal scoops some champorado into a bowl. “Say, is this chocolate rice?” Before Bruce can confirm it, the Lantern eats a mouthful and moans around the spoon. “Oh, that is good. ”

Bruce lets out an amused huff through his nose, lips twitching as he fights back a smile. “It’s better with evaporated milk.” Bruce grabs the bottle and puts it in Hal’s hands, their fingers brushing against each other’s.

“The last mission I went on, my provisions in the ship were canned grilled cheese.” Hal waves his hand emphatically before pouring the milk into his bowl. “Canned grilled cheese! I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

“I’m beginning to understand your appreciation for Alfred now.” Maybe it’s because he hasn’t yet had a sip of coffee, but Bruce yawns, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Oh, wow, Spooky. Feeling really loved and listened to here. Am I really that boring?” Hal teases before yawning himself; eyes widened in surprise at the suddenness of it. “Fuck you for making me yawn.”

“You’re blaming me for that?”

“Humans are social creatures, Spooky! Yeah, I’m blaming you for that.”

“Hm.” Bruce hums, cutting his pancake with his fork. “Maybe you should thank me. Did you know scientists believe yawning may aid in brain thermoregulation?”

“Huh.” The Lantern’s brows raise for a second. “Cool.”

Bruce is glad the man appreciates his random trivia. Usually, his children just roll their eyes or nod while feigning interest. Having Hal here is nice. It makes Bruce’s heart feel warm. 

It’s right.

Family breakfast, as always, is not a quiet affair. It’s loud and rowdy, and it always comes back to discussing work at the table, even when Alfred hates it. Hal’s reactions to the vigilante identities of the kids are minute, leading Bruce to realize the man had already put the pieces together. He is more intelligent than Bruce gives him credit for sometimes. Hal’s additions about his epic space battles make it all more exciting today.

“So,” Hal starts, hands in front of his body expanding as though he’s clearing the space for his story. “There’s this giant, invisible sea squid-looking thing that latches onto the ship. It wraps its tentacles around it, making us unable to fly, and it begins to crush the ship inwards.” He seems pleased by the rapt attention of the children. “Then, the asshul– ass hul– asshul–” In his passion, Hal struggles with the pronunciation.

“Asshole,” Bruce supplies, voice flat except for an uptick of amusement.

“Yes, thank you,” Hal huffs, then nods, “begins to try and eat our ship, so Razer, Kilowog, and I open up the airlock so we can fight the guy when suddenly,” Hal goes on to tell the story of his first meeting with the Zamarons, his voice and body animated.

Everyone is happy by the time breakfast ends. It’s been a long time since Bruce has gotten through breakfast without his kids squabbling with one another or someone leaving in an upset mood that has affected everyone for weeks. Something about Hal makes him feel like he’s the piece they’ve been missing.

"You're always welcome to join us for breakfast, Hal," Bruce remarks casually as the two stroll through the mansion. "Every Saturday, some of the kids and I gather for a meal together. Everyone came today because they were interested in meeting you, but it seems you've made quite an impression on all of them."

“Well, you messed up their impressions of me with all that whining you’ve apparently done for the past, what, ten-plus years- but yeah, it’s easy to get along with them.” Hal shakes his head fondly and smiles. “I could never get tired of them.”

Bruce feels his heart warm and unnecessarily claps Hal on the shoulder. “I’m glad you met them all.”

“I am too, Spooky.”

Bruce lets his touch linger longer than it needs to before his hand falls away, and even then, they walk side by side- hands brushing against each other as they walk.

Eventually, they get to Bruce’s room. The walls are dark, but the sunlight streaming through the large glass window illuminates the place. The furniture is all antique and practical, though he hardly uses the leather sofas and ottomans. Selina was more the type to drape herself over them. She would sprawl out like a cat. 

Books are scattered across nearly every surface, and Alfred, the actual cat, sleeps atop his bed's wooden headboard- perched on it just like Damian used to do when he watched Bruce sleep at night.

“It’s too serious in here,” Hal notes, though the look of it rather obviously takes him in. “You need another dinosaur here, like one from the cave.”

Bruce scoffs a laugh, arms crossed in front of his chest. “As much as I love those gorgeous creatures,” he calls back to how he and Hal referred to dinosaurs on their time-traveling adventure, “I’d be hard-pressed to get one in this room.”

“You have a Bialyan dragon bat named Goliath in your barn.” Hal and Damian had extensively talked about the menagerie of pets the younger has.

“Well, if I had a dinosaur, I’m not sure how much I’d like it in my room. I can only imagine waking up to the sound of their groans.” Bruce had found dinosaur groans are much scarier and more haunting than movie depictions through his experiences with them. 

“That’s a fair point.” 

They smile at each other before continuing their tour.

Bruce feels more content than in years but simultaneously, strangely discontent.

His heart flutters when his hand brushes against Hal’s again, and he stutters in his stride, the pilot oblivious to it.

Oh.

Oh.

He looks to his side and feels his heart warm at the way Hal animatedly begins to ramble about some baseball game, kneeling and petting Alfred when the usually standoffish cat comes to rub themselves against his leg. 

How did he not notice it before? How has he never realized how much he wants to hold the Lantern’s hand in his own, pull him close, and never let go?

He thought he was clingy because Hal was the first member of the League to know his identity, but this is different. The billionaire feels his heart drop with realization.

Does he have feelings for Hal Jordan?

“Bruce, dude, you listening?” Hal chuckles, smiling at Bruce when the cat licks his knuckles, and Bruce’s heart sings with love.

Bruce has a feeling the answer is yes.

Hal can never know.

Chapter Text

Clark is an investigative journalist with super hearing. Sue him for being a little nosy, but it doesn’t take a degree in journalism for him to know something is off with Bruce and the Green Lantern.

For one, the Lantern has been going over to Bruce’s for brunch every weekend for the past month. That’s not including the time they spend together on missions, apparently working on Batjet upgrades, and in their civilian identities. Whenever he’s alone with Bruce, the other hero is one of the few things he seems more happy than carefully neutral to discuss.

Two, Clark is 99.99% sure that Harold Jordan is the Green Lantern. Lois met the man when she was at Bruce Wayne’s distastefully named (in Clark’s opinion, at least) SOS Cruise launch party. On top of that, Harold Jordan is the only man seen hanging out with Bruce Wayne lately. They’re not making big news, but tabloids and social media are constantly abuzz over their friendship.

And third, Bruce has been smiling when talking about the Lantern. It's not just a tiny uptick of the corner of his mouth; no, it’s both corners rising! And yes, it’s not a big, evident, full-fledged smile, but since it’s Batman, it practically is! That’s newsworthy.

See, Clark would be jealous if it were the case of friendship because he’s Batman’s self-proclaimed best friend, but as he watches the two of them sneaking glances at each other during a meeting, he has a suspicion it’s not just that between them. 

“Lantern and I will work together to eliminate the threat,” Batman says, and Superman tunes in, not missing the split-second flash of excitement on the guy he thinks is probably Harold’s face. 

“So, Bats, you and Green Lantern seem to be joined at the hip these days,” Green Arrow starts, stroking his goatee, his voice teasing. “Must be handy having a buddy you can count on in the thick of it, huh?”

Bruce's gaze flicks towards Green Arrow, his expression guarded but intrigued. "We all need allies in this line of work," he replies evenly.

Goading for more, the man continues. “What about you, Green Machine? Thought you’d lose your mind by now.”

“Nah, I've got enough willpower to keep it together, even with Batman breathing down my neck.”

“I wouldn’t breathe down your neck if you didn’t make mistakes,” The billionaire retorts with a tone Clark can hear is almost fond.

“Hey, well, I’m not as puerile as you’re making me out to be.”

“Pew-what, now?” Ollie asks. 

“Puerile,” Bruce answers for the Lantern. “It means acting childish or immature.” He looks to the space cop with a hint of warmth and admiration, though his voice remains purposefully flat. “I wasn’t aware you knew what that word meant.”

“Well,” the Green Lantern starts, “you and Robin threw it around so much I figured I learned what it meant.” He smiles. “Bet you’re surprised by how smart I am.”

Clark hears a quiet, “He met Robin?” from Flash.

“The fact I would need to be surprised in the first place is sufficient reason enough for this not to be a time to brag, Lantern.”

Is this not flirting? And the Lantern met Robin? 

The thing that’s a big deal is, aside from the Robins being someone Batman has always been fiercely protective of, Clark is sure that the probably-Harold has met the current one out of costume! 

Clark has met and worked with past Robins, especially the one now known as Nightwing, but even then, he’s never been privy to their secret IDs or met them in their civvies. Batman always kept their identities safe, and they seemed to follow suit.

Clark is almost hurt, if a little miffed.

“Batman, Green Lantern, Green Arrow,” Diana calls their attention back to the alien invasion threat. “Your attention, please?”

The three men settle down, Bruce’s lips pinched, indicating slight embarrassment. The man clears his throat. “Right. So, about the security.” A humanoid alien with smooth pale skin and a large, broad, elongated skull with two glowing eyes hanging off the ends that convey intelligence is holo-projected between the Leaguers. 

“That’s a Teller,” the Green Lantern pipes up, voice steeped with awe. “I haven’t seen one in years; I thought they went extinct.”

“What is the significance of this Teller you speak of?” Diana peers closely at the diagram, clocking the eyes as a vulnerable attack point on this creature.

“Well, aside from being believed to be extinct,” Hal starts, creating a construct of a Teller and a random person, “they’re a telepathic creature that can read thoughts, detect guilt, and do this…” 

They watch the construct of the man’s head cave in after their brain is seemingly liquified.

Around the table, sounds of horror and disgust are heard.

“We need a plan,” Batman points out the obvious, but everyone tunes in, offering suggestions.

"Alright, here's an idea," Hal begins, leaning forward slightly to address the team. "Why don't we utilize Martian Manhunter? The teller’s telepathic abilities can detect guilt, right? So, we could have MM block off memories of the mission, erasing any sense of guilt. And then, we can relay information to him as we progress, essentially using him as a communication channel."

"Lantern's plan has merit. Gathering intel and infiltrating discreetly is more strategic than brute force. However, we shouldn't discount other perspectives. Let's hear everyone out before making a final decision." Bruce nods in approval, the rest of the Leaguers slightly relaxing as they see it. When Batman approves a plan, that becomes the likely course of action. It’s reassuring to have at least something to build off of.

“That sounds like approval, Spooky.” Hal waggles his brows. “See? I am the smartest between us two.”

Clark notices that it sounds like something akin to an inside joke between them.

“Sometimes,” Batman adds, voice warmer than Clark has ever heard with the cowl on. “Statistically speaking, I’m sure it had to happen at some point.”

“Hey!” The Lantern creates a construct of a crumpled paper ball and throws it at Batman, who easily swats it away. 

A low, almost silent, grumbling laugh builds in Batman’s throat. Clark and Diana’s eyes meet when their super hearing picks up on it first, eyes wide with a bit of shock and smiles growing on their faces despite themselves. 

It’s nice that the space cop can make Bruce lower his guard enough to laugh during a meeting. 

When Hal throws a second one, the rumbling laugh grows louder, a deep, rich sound. It’s loud enough to gather the attention of the other Leaguers, who just look at Batman in slight disbelief.

“Holy shit,” Flash looks between the black and green vigilantes. “Green Lantern just made Batman laugh…”

A few seats away, Green Arrow meets Flash’s eyes and dramatically pinches himself, his eye lenses widening. “The world must be ending.”

Bruce just huffs, and the Lantern throws a paper ball construct at the archer next, successfully thwacking the side of his head. “I’ll have you know that Spooky and I are friends. Right, Spooks?”

The billionaire gives a thoughtful hum before nodding. Clark can hear his heartbeat skip a beat at the attention and quicken slightly at the sight of GL’s expectant smile. Clark also notices the slight strain on the Lantern’s face when he refers to himself as a friend.

Oh, it is so obvious that Green Lantern wants more. 

“Lantern is correct.” The way Bruce’s lenses relax lets everyone know his gaze has softened as he looks at the other. “We are, simply put, friends.”

It is so obvious that Bruce wants more, too.

“Oh?” The space cop rests his head on his hand, dimples appearing as he speaks again, voice most definitely flirtatious. “And what is the not-simple answer?”:

"The not-so-simple answer?" Bruce's voice remains measured, a subtle smirk on his face, his tone betraying little emotion as he addresses Hal. "I believe the term you're looking for is 'classified information,’ Lantern.'"

Flash looks put out but not surprised at all in comparison to the blonde archer, who seems genuinely bamboozled when Hal isn’t immediately eviscerated or torn to shreds by Batman. The League (aside from him, Flash, J’onn, and Diana) are surprised- though notably better at hiding it.

Despite Clark's previous wariness around Green Lantern earlier- mainly due to his brash nature, the way he rudely talks to Batman in meetings, and the fact he almost got Bruce to apologize for something that doesn’t seem like his fault, Clark has to admit that the man makes Bruce happy– more relaxed in front of the collective group than Clark has ever really noticed before.

The Lantern is bringing about a good change for Bruce.

As Green Arrow watches the exchange between Batman and Green Lantern, Green Arrow's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He turns to Flash with a bemused expression, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Well, I'll be damned. Looks like hell's freezing over. Batman's cracking jokes, and Lantern's got him smiling. Who knew?"

“I told you Batman was nice,” the speedster defends, though not without some amusement himself.

“He is.” Green Lantern looks to the others almost conspiratorially, bringing a hand to the side of the mouth as he cheekily stage whispers. “He’s a total softie… when he’s not a jackass.”

“Lantern.” 

Everyone can practically hear the eye roll in Bruce’s voice. The Lantern just laughs, and there’s a small, sharper inhale from Bruce before his heart rate increases.

Clark is Bruce’s best friend. He prides himself on it. That’s why he can tell how Bruce feels about the other is more than friendship. 

When the Lantern turns back to face Batman, a fond smile on his face, Clark can hear his heart begin to speed up, too.

The Green Lantern has feelings for Batman, and Batman reciprocates them. It’s all so apparent to Clark.

He feels Diana nudge his arm from the left, and his smile widens. It’s apparent to her, too, then.

“I’m happy for you two,” Clark says with a smile, a hint of something indiscernible and knowing in his eyes. 

He wonders how long it’ll take them to realize they feel the same about each other— knowing his two teammates, probably a while. 

Good thing Diana is here for the ride- he’d go insane watching these oblivious guys by himself.

Chapter Text

“There’s a starman waiting in the sky,” Hal sings under his breath, strumming a chord on his old guitar, seeing the dust fly with every pass at the strings. “He’d like to come and meet us, but he thinks he’d blow our minds.”

He needs to pause when he hears a chime from his phone, and he smiles, knowing who it likely is. Bruce messages him every day around early evening with a picture of the sunset. Today is no exception.

Spooky

[Attachment: Image]

Hal, how are you today?

I must admit I’m counting down the days until the weekend.

We don’t need to wait till the weekend to see each other, gorgeous.

You miss me that much?

Are you free to call?

Answering a question with a question?

But yes :)

He hears his ringtone for Bruce— Toccata and Fugue in D Minor— also known as the pipe organ song associated with Dracula, go off a few seconds later, so he moves the guitar off his lap and sets it against the side of his worn-down lounge chair, answering the call as he goes to his unit’s balcony. 

“A call from you, Spooky?” Hal smiles, resting an arm on the peeling balcony railing. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Mine. Really?” Hal feels his heart flutter in his chest. “Thought you couldn’t wait for the day I shut up.”

“That only pertains to when you have a stupid idea.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hal looks out at the afternoon sky. Bruce is three hours ahead of him. “How are you sure I don’t have one right now?”

“Because I’m about to take up some of your time.” Hal can hear Bruce’s smile in his voice. 

Before he can respond, he hears some shuffling on the other end of the line and Damian’s voice. “Father,” the boy starts, “have you invited the Lantern to our outing?”

“I’m doing that right now, Damian.”

“Good. Tell Jordan I expect him to have watched the Octopus Teacher documentary.”

Hal laughs as Bruce mutters under his breath, “I will never understand the things you two watch.” Bruce heaves a tired but fond sigh and speaks again. “So, Hal, how would you like to go out with us to an amusement park?”

“When? Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“What about Gotham?”

“A group of individuals I trust will take over tonight, so the kids and I have the night off. It’s something we do a handful of times a year. Mandatory for sanity and morale.”

“Am I allowed to ask who this B team is?”

“Only if you’re prepared to be terminated for being made privy to that information.”

“The funny thing is that I’m only 95% sure you’re joking, Spooks.”

“Well, that’s—“

“Yo, Bruce.” Jason’s voice comes through. “Is Green on his way, or are we leaving without him?”

Hal hears a huff of amusement from Bruce, followed by a, “Well, Lantern?”

“Road trip with you all? There’s no way I’m missing that. Be there in a jiffy.”

“The drive won’t take long, and no one says that anymore, Jordan.”

“I don’t want to hear anything about being old or out of touch from you, Bruce.” Hal shakes his head and grabs his flight jacket. “See you in twenty.”

Flying at 9,000 miles per hour, Hal can make it to Gotham in less than fifteen minutes if he really wants to, but with Bruce’s anxiety, Hal takes care to fly further up in the atmosphere so that he’s not so easily seen and identified. 

There are two cars in the clearing where Hal usually meets Bruce: the black car he ate Chinese food in and a black Mercedes Benz Sprinter Limo. Alfred gives Hal a polite nod as a greeting from behind the wheel of the limo.

“Hal.” Bruce greets, standing outside the car in the cold, his eyes wincing from the brightness of the Lantern suit in the night. Hal dismisses the suit, and the glow dies down. “You’re riding with me. Alfred is driving the other car.”

“Is shotgun taken?”

“No.” Bruce walks to the black car and opens the door for Hal like a gentleman, smiling when the pilot slips inside with ease- all the man’s previous nervousness regarding the car forgotten. “I saved it for you.”

“How generous,” Hal teases, the seatbelt smoothly clicking into place.

“Only the best for you.”

Hal is greeted by a cacophony of greetings when the billionaire closes the door. He turns his torso to see who’s seated behind him.

“Jordan.” Damian nods, similar to Alfred’s, as a greeting.

“Hey, Hal,” comes Dick’s breezy one.

“Halio!” Steph smiles.

Dick is behind Hal, Damian is seated in the middle (the woes of being the youngest), and Stephanie is behind Bruce.

“Hey, guys.” Hal returns the smile. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Bruce seems happier with you around,” Dick explains. “We figured it’d be good for him to have you tag along.”

“Oh. Uh.” Hal feels his face flush, and he doesn’t know how to respond best, so he just nods. “Glad to hear that.”

He turns back to face the front as Bruce slips into the car; the seatbelt is taut against his chest, highlighting the muscle Hal knows is there.

Bruce is so unfairly attractive that not liking him is nigh impossible. The past few weeks have been such a struggle. Having a crush on one of your best friends sucks.

“Seatbelts?” Bruce starts the car, looking at his kids in the mirror.

Bruce’s kids all nod, so the CEO turns his head back to check his blindspots, gripping Hal’s headrest to act as an anchor point as he prepares to reverse the car. 

“Please excuse my closeness,” Bruce says to Hal, brow furrowed in concentration as he turns the wheel.

Hal silently gulps back a nervous laugh, heart racing. “Uh… If I said ‘not excused,’ what then?”

Bruce just quirks an amused brow as he smiles at the Lantern before returning his attention to the road he maneuvers the car onto. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you. I’ll buy you whatever you want at the amusement park.”

Hal scoffs a laugh. “Bruce, you’re rich . For all I know, this offer means you’re not really apologetic after all.”

“Well…” Bruce’s voice becomes smoother, deeper- like when he flirts as Brucie. “Maybe I’m not.”

Hal feels his face warm at that, though the embarrassment only worsens as the three in the back make various noises. 

Stephanie coos at them, Dick grunts in discomfort, and Damian makes his displeasure known with a disapproving tongue click and, “Father, your attempts at flirtation are not only embarrassing but entirely unnecessary.”

To put him and Bruce out of their embarrassment, Hal just ignores Damian’s comment. “Funnel cake.”

“What?” Bruce looks towards him out of the corner of his eye. Hal can’t tell because of the dark, but some selfish part of him hopes Bruce is blushing just as hard as he is.

“Pay me back with funnel cake with all the syrups and all the powdered sugar.”

“That sounds disgusting,” Bruce and Damian say in unison. Like father, like son.

“It sounds fucking great, is what.” Hal gives a dramatic sigh. “You two are missing out.”

“Language,” Bruce warns. “And the only thing I’m missing out on is diabetes.”

“And happiness,” Hal argues.

“If diabetes is how you define happiness, I am incredibly concerned for your well-being.”

Too caught up in the banter, Bruce swears and scowls at the road.

“What’s wrong?” Hal gets this sense of deja vu. “Did you miss your turn again?”

Bruce grips the steering wheel tighter than necessary, a grumbled “yes” passing his lips. 

“Damn, Spooks.” Hal injects faux disappointment into his tone. “What happened to all your lectures about paying attention?”

“Those are about League meetings, not about missed turns.” 

“They’re just as important.”

“With all due respect, which is none, Jordan, fuck you.” Hal can hear the smile in Bruce’s voice even though the man keeps a straight face.

“Language.” Hal smiles. “And I’m hurt.”

“You’re not.”

“But I could be.”

“You’re not, though.”

“You’re no fun.” The pilot jokingly pouts.

“Why would I need to be fun? I’m rich, and I’m Batman.”

Hal just scoffs and looks out the window. He sees his smile in the reflection. “You got me there.”

As they pass by a streetlight, he becomes aware of Stephanie’s knowing grin. Damian has managed to slip headphones on, and Dick has his eyes closed, presumably trying to catch some much-needed sleep before they arrive.

“Wait, Spooks, you never told me where we were going.”

“Metropolis- the drive’ll be less than two hours.”

“I thought you hated Metropolis.”

“I do,” Bruce sighs, fingers rapping against the wheel, “but I have a business deal in funding an amusement park there. Them giving me the park for a night is a show of respect and goodwill, and Brucie would never resist an adrenaline rush or a good bit of fun with his family. Only a handful of staff will be there.”

“Well, even if you don’t really want to go, I’m glad you and the kids are taking a break. Morale and sanity, and all that.” Hal looks back at Bruce, focusing on the small scar on his cheek from where the gunman got him at the launch party. 

“Yes.” Bruce makes a turn, and the car rocks gently. “I’m glad we’re all…” his voice trails off a little, quiet enough that the car's sound nearly drowns it out, “we’re all safe enough to make it another year.”

Hal’s face falls, and he reaches over to give Bruce’s arm a small squeeze of reassurance, rubbing his thumb back and forth against the soft merino wool. “I’m glad too.”

Out of respect for Dick, the rest of the ride there is relatively quiet, though Stephanie starts randomly going on tangents to fill the silence every once in a while. She’s energetic. Hal can appreciate that.

———

Hal, Jason, and Dick are laughing together as they fix their wind-mussed hair from the rollercoaster ride: Test Flight. It’s supposed to mimic the feeling of flying.

“That was pretty good,” Hal admits. It’s nowhere near as fun as actually flying, untethered and free, but this is top-notch for an amusement park.

A streak of white pinched between his fingers and curled towards the front of his face; Jason lets out a contented sigh as he puts it into place. “It was. If there’s one thing I can admit about Bruce, it’s that he doesn’t skimp out on his projects and funding.”

Dick’s brows raise in agreement, and he nods along. “Agreed, but nothing beats gliding through the sky as NW or that stomach-flipping feeling that comes with it.”

“Oh, you’re an adrenaline junkie,” Hal smiles. “You ever go skydiving?”

“A few times, yeah.” Dick’s smile lets Hal know there’s way more to the story there, but he doesn’t even get the chance to ask before two other vigilantes come, their phone’s alarms going off.

“Our turn with Hal.” Cass turns off her alarm and flips her phone outwards so her brothers can see the time.

“Yeah, old Halio is ours for the next half hour!”

“Old?” Hal grimaces, feeling a pang in his heart.

“Oops.”

“Just tipping your prime,” Jason jokes with a smile, but he lets out a grunt when Dick jostles him with his shoulder.

“That’s not nice,” Cass chastises Jason, her eyes expressing disapproval.

“Thank you, Cass.” Hal gives a dramatic sigh of relief. “I’m glad I can depend on someone to defend my honor.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes and latches onto Cassandra’s arm. “C’mon, it’s our turn to leave for the haunted house ride. The decorations look so dumb it’s almost scary! We need to ride it.” She gives the older woman and Hal puppy eyes, which only serves to make Jason cringe. Noticing this, she nudges his tibia with her foot.

Before a fight that wastes away the girls’ half hour can go off, Hal brings the attention back to himself. “Alright, girls. Let’s go to the house.” He never thought he’d say that sentence in this context before. He’s hanging out with Bruce Wayne’s children (sans Stephanie, who makes it very clear she chose not to be adopted), and he’s having fun. 

He would never say it out loud and ruin things, but he feels like a part of their family. It’s as terrifying a thought as it is comforting.

He’s lived through enough significant events to know that one day is enough to change everything. He just hopes he doesn’t screw things up.

———

Exploring the amusement park with the kids is fun.

When they had arrived at the park, Hal had planned to stay by Bruce’s side, but as the man warned against “galavanting around,” it was no surprise Hal was offered up as a chaperone by the kids despite many of them being grown adults. Finally spending time with them outside of breakfast, Hal is a hot commodity everyone wants to get to know better. He’s more popular than Coast City Angels tickets the last time they went to a World Series.

It’s the universe’s way of telling him he can’t get a date with Batman and that he should get his head out of his selfish ass. He should just appreciate the man and his vulnerability as a friend. He should spend time with these kids. He doesn’t know how many of them have told their friends or teammates their identities– he’d be willing to bet money on Dick and Tim– but there’s an underlying current of excitement (tinged with tentativeness) between all of them. Hal has only ever had close friends and family know his identity– though technically, these kids knew before he told them. He’s sure it’s the same for them; it’s a big deal to let someone, super or not, into their inner circle.

“Okay, wait– Hal, squeeze closer to Duke,” Tim shouts from the row in front of the two, the wind making it hard to hear him as the rollercoaster cart continues its steep climb upwards. He holds a nice camera, pointing the lens towards them.

“It’s a bit hard with the fucking restraints, dude,” Duke shouts back, smiling.

“Wait,” Hal quickly looks around to ensure there are no security cameras nearby and that the ride operator isn’t paying attention before he summons a construct of comically outstretched hands, gently holding the construct out to Tim for permission. When the construct holds the camera, fully extended in front of all of them, he makes it take a few pictures. 

They all come out slightly blurry with a green glow, but they’re all smiling and having fun.

Hal briefly wonders if these kids actually like him or are merely entertaining his presence for Bruce. He thinks they like him. Hal knows that he likes them- he enjoys spending time with them; he knows that much, at least.

Dick is witty and bright and scarily intense when he needs to be. He’s got a natural charisma and so much love to give– he is someone that Hal knows is the glue of the family. He’s quick with comebacks, and his need for physical touch and affection from those close to him betrays an underlying sense of loneliness and unrest. He’s practically the eldest sibling in the hodgepodge family, and that comes with a long list of problems and pressures that Dick seems like the type of person to carry. Bruce once told Hal that he aspired to be more like Nightwing, and while Hal can understand why, he sees the way Dick looks at Bruce- with respect and fear and love and so much of something , something Hal can’t decipher. It’s complicated, he assumes. He sympathizes with the man as an older brother, not even the eldest. All Hal knows is that he’s glad Dick seems to like him so far.

Cassandra, the second oldest child, per her insistence over Jason, is hard for Hal to read. She’s most alike to Bruce in her unintentional aloofness. Back when Bruce was still hard to read and, quite frankly, simultaneously startled and pissed Hal off, he found the quiet of the man disconcerting and annoying. With Cassandra, though, it’s more endearing. Maybe it’s because she’s more likable than Bruce was. She’s funny, too, with her timing. When she says something, Hal knows to pay attention to it; with her, actions speak louder than words. He's gotten pretty good at reading her, and while he still would feel awkward being alone with her (it would be unnerving), Hal can say that he’s not hated by her, at least- which is good because she seems to be most like Bruce. Spooky is such a girl’s dad.

Jason is easy for Hal to get along with, he thinks. He seems a little more emotional than the others, but not in a bad way. Hal gets it, the need to antagonize Bruce– to goad him along and bring about a response– to make him acknowledge you, acknowledge the pain you’re in or the pain he’s caused you. Hal has done it a few times over. Bruce’s way of showing love and care can be presumptuous and irritating but also so overwhelming that it feels wrong if you believe you don’t deserve it. Hal knows about the Red Hood from things Bruce told him in passing, but he won’t judge Jason on that. He knows what it’s like to have stains on your past- when you’re out of control and hurt the ones you most want to protect. Jason is also a middle sibling, stuck looking up to the older ones– constantly in their shadow and needing to prove himself and be an inspiration for the younger ones- saddled with the burden of his past mistakes and the embarrassment that comes from them. Out of everyone, he feels most like Jason.

Stephanie is also someone Hal can relate to. She prides herself on not being adopted into the family- on separating herself and making a name for herself. She sees a distinct disconnect between her and them, and it’s not pride- it’s this want for slight alienation because it’s hard to feel so worthy of that trust, that love, that sense of family. Hal feels it, too; not that he’s as close as Steph is to them, but that lack of belonging is there nonetheless. She speaks before she thinks sometimes; she is loud, awkward, and authentic. Hal respects that about her. She’s smiley and bright and reminds Hal too much of himself- in hiding himself behind it. He’s glad the blonde has Cassandra and Tim to rely on- they seem like the ones she trusts most. Out of everyone, she’s the one Hal feels most comfortable talking to, mainly because he thinks their brains would be on the same wavelength for many things. 

Tim is someone Hal would find a little more challenging to get along with- not that he couldn’t, he’s Hal, after all, but still. He feels like he has nothing in common in terms of hobbies and interests. Emotionally, though, Tim smiles but seems a bit distant. He’s like Bruce in that way, where he analyses everything and always needs to worry about staying in control. Tim’s brilliant, a natural detective in an almost unnerving way. He has so many expectations to live up to. Hal has many expectations as a hero, but for Tim to have those and the ones of his civilian persona? Hal doesn’t know how the kid does it but respects it. Hal just hopes the kid doesn’t burn out. It’s a little worrisome. Out of everyone in the family, he supposes Tim is the one most defined as reliable. Most of what he knows about Tim relates to his status as a majority shareholder in Wayne Enterprises.

Duke is a friendly kid, though another one Hal doesn’t know how to connect with- maybe just because the kid is young. Hal doesn’t know much about him other than that he’s one of the few metas in Gotham. Duke is usually busy with school or daytime patrol when Hal is over, but Hal hopes to get to know him better. Hal would bet money that the guy has an underlying penchant for chaos that he’d love to tap into. From seeing him fight over the last muffin at breakfast once, Duke seems competitive and headstrong in a way only a younger sibling can be, so Hal is a little fond of him. He reminds him of how rowdy Jim used to be before their dad died.

Damian is the one Hal has a hard time with. The kid is hot, then cold, approving, and then insulting, all in a minute. Damian is Bruce's only biological kid, and he seems fierce and protective, but beneath it all, Hal recognizes that despite Damian’s annoyance with it, he is still just a kid. He just needs to talk to Damian respectfully while being mindful of those boundaries. It’s easy enough to speak with him. Damian is interested in animals- something there’s no shortage of, and fighting- something Hal has a lot of intergalactic experience with. Overall, Damian seems easy to get along with.

Until now…

“What are your intentions with my Father?” Damian asks, his arms crossed as he scowls up at Hal. The night’s cold air is almost as biting as the boy’s defensive words.

It’s just him and the kid, and Hal can feel himself begin to sweat. “Uh- wow, you really don’t hold things back.”  

“Of course not. It pertains to the happiness and well-being of my Father, so answer quickly, Jordan, before Pennyworth returns from the restroom.”

Hal considers playing dumb for a second but quickly decides against it. Undermining Damian’s judgment and intelligence by doing so is the worst thing he could do right now.

Hal shifts his weight from foot to foot, a nervous energy coursing through him as he scratches the back of his neck. "Look, Bruce's safety and happiness, they're a top priority for me. I've got a lot of respect for your dad. Maybe not the way he feels about me, but I'm not about to mess things up by putting myself first." He pauses, searching for the right words to convey his sincerity. "I'm here for him, for the League. That's what matters."

“You’ve hurt Father before. A few weeks ago.” Damian’s brows furrow. “He checked his phone often, and upon further introspection, I believe you were the cause.”

Hal feels his heart drop. Damian is probably referring to back when he iced Bruce out.

“Yeah… That was not my finest moment.” He sighs, lips thinned into a line as he looks down at the boy. “It was a mistake- what I did. I don’t want to hurt Spooky.”

"If you dare hurt father again, Jordan, you'll regret it. My siblings may be oblivious to your faults, but I reside in the manor, so I've seen it all," Damian snarls, his voice dripping with warning contempt. "I can't fathom why Father has taken a liking to you all of a sudden, but I'll concede, your presence is tolerable. Just don't make the mistake of jeopardizing that." 

"I swear, I won't do anything to hurt him intentionally. But, uh, gotta ask, do you hate me? Just trying to clear the air." 

"I don't despise you, Jordan," Damian states, his tone guarded yet surprisingly honest. "But trust is something you haven't quite earned from me yet. I'll concede, it's been some time since I've seen him genuinely content in someone's company." His voice is slightly begrudging in nature.

“Cool.” Hal lets out a small sigh of relief, fingers fidgeting inside the pockets of his flight jacket. “I was just checking.”

Damian's gaze lingers on Hal for a moment, silently appraising him. Then, as if acknowledging Hal's vulnerability, he breaks it with an admission. "Your affinity for animals is commendable," Damian concedes, his tone still tinged with a hint of skepticism. "And I suppose your assistance last week in convincing Father to allow the stray cat inside for the night was... tolerable." 

“Yeah?” The corner of Hal’s lip quirks up into a grin.

“Yes.”

As though possessing a superpower to tell when to come and go, Alfred returns to the pair with a pleased look on his face.

“Master Damian, Master Jordan, I trust you both are enjoying yourselves?”

They both nod, and Damian steps away from Hal.

“Pennyworth,” the boy starts. “I want to ride the teacups with you.”

“Very well, Master Damian.” After acknowledging the younger, Alfred’s blue eyes meet Hal’s. “Master Jordan, Master Bruce is at the funnel cake stand by the entrance when you are ready.”

“Oh. I forgot about that.” Hal’s stomach grumbles, so he gives a sheepish laugh. “Guess my stomach didn’t forget, though. I’ll see you both around.”

Hal doesn’t sprint away from them but definitely goes faster than a walk as he leaves to meet with Bruce. He goes so fast, in fact, that he would have passed the funnel cake stand had he not heard Bruce’s amused “Hal.”

He sees the man’s hand, arm stretched upwards to flag him down, and he resolutely does not give a small sigh of relief. (He does, and judging by the way Bruce’s eyes crinkle as he holds back a chuckle, Hal assumes the other noticed it. Darn.)

“Bruce.” Hal comes over, a sheepish smile on his face. “There you are. Almost missed you.”

“You were walking so fast you would have.” The billionaire quirks a brow. “Did my kids scare you that much?” Despite his lighthearted and inquisitive tone, Hal can sense an underlying sense of insecurity.

“I don’t get afraid. It comes with the Green Lantern territory, remember?” Hal gives a slight chuckle. “Well, Damian is a little intense- but he was good. They’re all good kids, Bruce.”

“Well, I know they’re good kids,” Bruce replies rather proudly before his face falls with worry, “but are you alright?”

“I am, Bruce. Don’t sweat it.” Hal unnecessarily claps his friend on the back, leading him to the front of the funnel cake stand. “I’ll be even more alright once I get some of this in me.”

“Some of…” Bruce pauses briefly before clearing his throat. “Ah, you meant the funnel cake.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

Confused, Hal’s brows pinch together. “What did you mean?”

“Nothing, Hal.” Bruce’s face is flushed pink. Maybe the cold is getting to him. “Let’s hurry and eat.”

The pilot just shrugs at the apparent dismissal, not minding it. “Sounds good to me!”

Hal orders a funnel cake with powdered sugar, strawberries doused in strawberry syrup, covered in swirls of chocolate and caramel, and topped with a mountain of whipped cream.

It looks absolutely…

“Delicious!”
“Disgusting.”

Hal gasps, faux-affronted. “You take that back, Spooky.”

“Absolutely not,” comes the flat-voiced reply. Bruce crosses his arms and sits up slightly in his seat, the cold metal made colder by the outside air. “That meal is an abomination and the definition of diabetes.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It really is.”

“For the sake of our marriage, and if you want me to take on your last name, you must,” Hal refers to a joke he made while they were on the cruise. 

“Oh.” Bruce smiles and huffs a chuckle. “Harold Wayne, huh? You’re still up for it?”

“Only if you eat this so-called “abomination” with me, gorgeous.” Grabbing the spork, Hal scoops up a good amount and holds it up to Bruce. When the man grimaces, Hal laughs and makes airplane noises before pressing it against the other’s lips. “Say “Aah” so the airplane can land.”

“Jordan, this is idiotic–” Bruce is cut off, frowning as Hal presses the sporkful against his lips. Reluctantly, he bites and swallows it. He’s more than strong enough to bat away Hal’s attempts. Hal knows the man wouldn’t have done that unless he secretly wanted to. “Don’t cut me off like that again.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hal starts, entirely unapologetic, recognizing the tone used is far less severe than anything he’s faced in League meetings. Bruce isn’t angry. “But it’s good, right?”

“It is tolerable.”

“It’s okay, you can say it’s good .” Hal grins, eyes glistening with amusement. “It’s not bad to call me right, you know.”

Bruce hums, likely thinking about it.

“Come onnnn,” Hal heckles and whines, nudging the man’s toned arm with the point of his elbow. “Admit it.”

“Hal.” Bruce rolls his eyes.

“C’mon, Bruce.” He feels his lips curl up into a smile as he stares at the other.

“Hal,” the other says in a warning tone. 

“Bruce,” he teases. Hal can see a glimmer of joy in Bruce’s eyes.

“Hal…” Bruce’s eyes crinkle just slightly at the corners.

“...Bruce.” 

“Hal…”

Hal’s gaze briefly flicks down to Bruce’s lips, catching the movement of the man’s tongue- darting out to wet his lips.

“You, uh- you missed the syrup here.” Hal grabs a napkin and gently wipes a bit of chocolate syrup from Bruce’s chin. 

“You were the one who brought it to my mouth.” Bruce’s eyes meet his. “It was your fault.”

“Well, someone was being stubborn and not opening their mouth.” Hal chuckles, crinkling up the napkin. “Say you like it already.”

“What will I get if I do?” 

Is Hal imagining things, or is Bruce flirting with him right now?

Hal wants nothing more than to offer a kiss, but he values their friendship too much. Bruce is probably just easing into his natural Brucie charm right now anyway, so the pilot settles for an easy, “Another mouthful, Spooky.”

“And if I want more?”

“Then you’ll get two scoops.” Hal isn’t sure how to respond to his friend without flirting, so he takes the chance to eat a mouthful himself. “Oh- shit, this is so good.” He takes another bite, moaning around the spork. “Oh my god, it’s so greasy…”

Bruce cringes at the descriptor, but upon seeing Hal’s reaction, he picks up his own spork, cutting away at a piece somehow refinedly despite it all. “It was passable.” He takes a bite and swallows it. “It’s not bad.”

Hal smiles, stabbing a syrup-covered strawberry before waving the fork around to the cadence of his words, “That’s Bruce-speak for good, right? I’m the smartest in the League, baby.”

“Hm,” Bruce hums. He doesn’t refute it.

They finish the rest of the funnel cake in a matter of minutes, and just on time as the entire family approaches them mere moments later.

“Yo, Bruce, Hal, we’re gonna ride the ferris wheel before we leave this place.” Jason points back towards the illuminated ride in the distance with his thumb. “You guys coming with?”

Bruce and Hal’s eyes meet, and an unspoken agreement is shared between the two.

“You bet,” Hal starts, already standing and grabbing all the trash. “C’mon, Spooky,” he calls out over his shoulder, already feeling the presence of Bruce following right behind him.

“Thank you for throwing away the trash,” Bruce said, stepping beside Hal. Hal can hear the slight clicking of the man’s teeth as he shivers.

“You cold?”

“No.” Bruce frowns and pointedly averts his gaze rather stubbornly. “Metropolis weather is nothing in comparison to Gotham.”

“Yeah, well…” Hal slips off his jacket and holds it out to the other. “I’m getting warm. You should wear this instead.”

“Hal, I’m not—”

“Hold it for me then- as thanks for throwing the trash away and feeding you.”

“I didn’t ask to be fed,” Bruce says as he takes the flight jacket anyway, putting it on with a slight smile and an eagerness Hal didn’t expect.

“Yeah, well…” Hal just shrugs. They walk, the two following behind everyone in silence, content to listen to the chatter before Hal speaks again. “You know,” Hal looks at Bruce in the jacket, looking at the patch with his last name, heart racing, “my last name does look good on you.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.” 

“Hm.” Bruce smiles a little wider, tone still joking. “I’ll take it into consideration before our wedding then.”

Being away from Gotham's stress must be good for the man.

They arrive at the ferris wheel, everyone paired up, and Hal gives a shaky chuckle before he clambers in. He’s not scared but a bit nervous about being so close to Bruce. They’re both so big that when sitting across from each other, their knees are awkwardly bracketed between each other's legs.

"You know," Hal starts, feeling the cold of the metal seating through his jeans, "I've been in a lot of testing simulators that have the same general shape as a ferris wheel."

Bruce listens intently, giving a slight nod as he encourages Hal to continue.

"Yeah, uh... most of the time they, uh, crash on me," Hal continues with a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. "Or catch on fire. But hey, I've lived through worse." As Hal finishes his sentence, he notices Bruce's reaction and offers a sheepish grin. This wasn’t a very good conversation topic.

Bruce's expression shifts slightly, his brow furrowing with concern. "That's not exactly a good thing, Jordan."

Hal gets deja vu. He’s pretty sure he said the exact same thing to Bruce when a bullet grazed the man’s cheek.

“You know, Spooky, back when we first met, you said we were alike,” Hal reminisces, his mind drifting back to the Darkseid invasion. Batman had pulled him aside amidst the chaos, telling him they were both ordinary humans beneath their masks. Hal had watched as Batman swiftly disappeared into the fray, leaving him to wonder about the truth of that statement. Despite his skepticism, it had offered a sense of reassurance. “I’m starting to understand what you meant.”

“Hm.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” As the ferris wheel pod begins to sway with the motion of the ride, Hal continues, “You’ve got a depth to you, Bruce.”

“Depth?”

“Yes, depth.” Hal's gaze meets Bruce's, momentarily blocking out the sound of the theme park. “You've seen and experienced so much, yet you still find a way to carry on, to fight for what's right. It's... inspiring.”

Bruce's expression softens, a hint of gratitude flickering in his eyes. “Thank you, Hal.”

There’s a beat of silence, so Hal fills it with something he doesn’t think through. “You’re not as big an asshole as I thought you were. You’re a nice guy, Bruce.”

“Nice?”

“Nice. You’re nice.”

“You never would have said that before.”

“I just didn’t know you back then.” Hal looks into Bruce’s eyes, the presence of the cold falling away. “I think I know you now.”

“And what do I want, then?”

“I…” Hal falters. Is this flirting? If it is, is it platonic? “You uh… you want…” 

Thankfully, before Hal can make a fool of himself, the ride stops with Bruce and Hal at the peak. They can hear the muted, animated voices of the children complaining about the stuck ride. 

“You’ll want to uh… look at this view.” Hal peers off the pod's side, smiling when he sees the lights from all the rides around them. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, beautiful,” Bruce replies.

Hal doesn’t turn around. Obviously, Bruce is referring to the view, but Hal likes to imagine that part of it is for him. He won’t act on these feelings, but he wants to uphold the illusion for just a few seconds longer.

“One day, I’ll take you flying higher than this, Spooky,” Hal promises. “Sunsets are prettier from up above the clouds.”

“I’ll hold you to it then, Hal.” Bruce’s voice sounds dazed and rich, almost dreamy. The view really is nice here without the Gotham smog. He must be appreciating that. “Maybe for our birthday?”

“Our birthday?” Hal knows his own is coming up, but “When’s yours?”

“Mine is on the nineteenth, the day before your own.”

“No way.” Hal turns back around now. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“I’m not.”

“What do you want for your birthday?” Hal panics just slightly. It’ll be their first birthday as actual friends and not just teammates, plus, so what if he wants to go overboard for his crush? Sue him. 

“I don’t need anything, Hal.”

“Bullshit, Spooks.” Hal is fully invested in this now, leaning forward, view forgotten. “Think something up! Whaddya want? And don’t give me that our-friendship-is-enough bullshit.”

“Well, what do you want then?”

“Stop deflecting.”

“ You’re deflecting.” Bruce crosses his arms and quirks an expectant brow. “Give me some ideas.”

Hal finds himself at a loss for words. He isn’t sure of what he wants. Like, he knows, but he doesn’t know. 

“Our, uh,” Hal offers a sheepish smile, “our friendship is enough?”

Bruce just sighs and levels him with an exasperatedly fond look that says, ‘I-totally-knew-you-were-going-to-say-that-you-idiot.’

“It’s hard to think under pressure!”

“Yes, well,” Bruce gives a thoughtful hum. “Surprise me… but not with anything you know I wouldn’t like, please. I’d prefer not to be pranked.”

“Then right back at you,” Hal challenges. “Surprise me back.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Bruce smirks. “You marveled over my seat-warming Japanese toilet with a bidet just the other day.”

“That’s unfair, and you know it.”

Bruce just smiles- one of those ones Hal wants to wipe (read: kiss) off his stupidly handsome, smug face.

Eventually, the ride ends, and everyone exits their pods, coming to stand by the exit.

Stephanie yawns, arms stretched towards the sky. “Oh my God, I’m so tired.”

“Yes,” Damian agrees. “I am ready to retire for the night.”

“Really?” Dick looks surprised by the tiredness of his siblings. “We all usually stay up later for patrols.”

“Not me, man.” Duke yawns, influenced by Steph.

Jason shrugs. “I just want to shower.”

“I’m always tired,” Tim supplies. “But before we leave, we should take a picture.”

“A wonderful idea, Master Tim.” 

Tim shrugs off his backpack and pulls out his camera stand, setting it up.

Hal awkwardly stands off to the side, watching everyone fall into place when Cass speaks to him. “Lantern, stand here.” 

“Tt.” Damian clicks his tongue. “Surely, you did not believe we excluded you from the picture.”

“Didn’t want to intrude,” Hal admits as he steps between Cassandra and Bruce.

“Glad you could join us, Hal,” Bruce says as he wraps his arm over Hal’s shoulder. 

The pilot isn’t sure if the man is referring to him joining the group or coming out with them tonight, so he just gives a slight nod before smiling, with dimples on his cheeks.

Under Tim’s guidance, this picture comes out much better than the other ones Hal took earlier that night.

“New wallpaper.” Tim downloads the photo to his phone and sends it to Bruce. “This is a better one to show at WE meetings.”

Bruce's lips thin into an embarrassed line. “Right, then. I’ll change it promptly.”

From there, the family gets ready to leave, and Hal splits from the group despite their complaints.“It’s less weird for Green Lantern to leave from Metropolis than Gotham,” he argued, and no one could disagree.

It was time to get back home and deal with some jetlag. 

— — —

“Hey. Yeah, sorry, Jim. I just got back.” Hal shrugs off his dad’s jacket, which now smells slightly of Bruce, and hangs it on the coat rack, summoning a construct of a hand to hold his phone as he unties his shoes. His brother rarely calls.

“From space?” His brother sounds worried.

“Nah, from an amusement park.” There’s a pause. “But like, genuinely,” Hal elaborates, “not sarcasm. It sounds sarcastic, but it’s not.”

“Oh, I’ve been wanting to take Howie and Jane out to a place sometime. Where’d you go?”

“Just to a place in Metropolis with Bruce Wayne. After the Joker turned Amusement Mile into his headquarters, you'd think they would forever avoid places like this, but Gothamites still love to have fun, I guess.”

“I’m sorry- with like… the actual Bruce Wayne? I was surprised enough to see you on the news with him months ago. You’re still talking to him?”

“Well, yeah. We’re friends,” Hal tries to play it off casually.

“Friends as in…? Are you sleeping with him, friends as in pining for him, or actual genuine friends?”

“…A mix of two and three, wishing for one?”

“Hal…”

“Bro, it’s fine,” Hal says despite the ache in his chest. He lets out a small mix between a huff and a sigh. “So how are—“

“Tell me about him,” Jim’s demand cuts him off.

“Huh?”

“Tell me about him. Why do you like him?”

“Well, I– I never said I like him.” Hal gives a slightly nervous chuckle at the end of his words.

“So you don’t?”

There’s a bit of silence as Hal mulls over his answer. “Well, I didn’t say that either.”

His brother chuckles, sounding amused, then a bit melancholic. 

“What are you laughin’ at?” He wants to drive to his brother’s place just to give him a noogie for laughing at him. 

There’s a beat of silence before the younger breaks it, voice hesitant. “I missed this. And you.”

“I uh-” Hal feels a lump in his throat, and the next words come easier, maybe because his brother admitted to it first. “I missed you too.”

“It’s been a few months since we last…”

“Yeah.”

“So…” Hal can hear the sound of fingers tapping on something. He can picture it now: Jim sat at the table, anxiously tapping his fingers. His younger brother had a bad habit of doing that as a child. It would upset their mom when he used to do homework in the kitchen- the tapping sound would fill the room for hours on end. It’s comforting to know he still does that. “Bruce Wayne, huh?” There’s an amused scoff, and he can imagine Jim shaking his head in disbelief. “Your life, Hal, is unbelievable to me.”

“Trust me,” Hal smiles. “I can’t believe it half the time either.”

“Well, is he really as nice as they say?” Jim gives a small contemplative hum. “I’m wondering if he’s good enough for you. Yeah, he’s a billionaire, but I heard he’s kinda, I dunno, like, dumb?”

His brother has always been a sweetheart. Hal feels a surge of pride and love crash over him. 

“Yeah, he’s good people.” Hal settles down into his old lounge chair with a sigh. “He’s as smart as he is kind- which is very. Nice is, well, dubious, I guess, but he’s kind.”

“Kind but not nice? Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Yeah, well…” Hal gives a sort of laugh that means he won’t elaborate.

“Did you sign an NDA or something?” Jim laughs and thankfully doesn’t push further. “You know, Hal, I was convinced you would end up with Carol. Or Batman.”

Hal feels his face flush as he sits up straighter in his chair. “What?”

“Yeah, so I’m glad you’ve found this guy.”

“Wait, wait- no, elaborate. Why Spooky?”

“You’ve always told me your closest friends come from those you exchange fists with. He seemed like that type of guy.”

Hal sweeps his fingers through his hair.

He was doomed from the start, wasn’t he?

“Yeah…” Hal sighs, lovelorn. “Guess he is my type, huh…”

“No use being fixated on it with Brucie, though.” Jim tries to cheer him up. “So, have you ever swum with him in a hotel fountain?”

“No.” A smile comes onto his face. “But I stunk up his fancy car with Chinese food.”

Jim chuckles, and Hal finds himself following along.

“Tell me about it?”

Yeah. He’s missed this.

Reconnecting with his brother is exactly what he needs after a night out with Bruce’s family.

When he listens to Jim’s contagious laugh after a particularly dumb thing he and Brucie did, Hal feels a part of his heart quiet.

Bruce probably will never return his feelings, but Hal has people and family who care for him.

That’s enough.

Chapter Text

Bruce’s birthday is coming up, and Hal doesn’t know what to get him. 

What do you get the guy with everything, or at least enough money to get practically everything he wants?

Thinking about this, Hal paces around his room, anxiously fidgeting with his ring, twisting it around his middle finger.

A few months ago, he would’ve snarkily given the man a self-help book and a half-assed gift courtesy of whatever frozen food had been marinating in his freezer. Which, thinking of it, needs to be cleaned out.

Now, though, what should he get the man– his crush– his friend ? 

Right, he settled on just being friends with him. Anything else would be selfish.

A book could be nice, but does Spooky even have the time to read books? What could Hal offer that the man would enjoy?

He can’t even get out of this by giving Bruce the “gift of giving” when the man literally has charity galas and foundations that do that already! Besides, any amount Hal donated in Bruce’s name would be a mere pittance compared to what Bruce could give- honestly, it would be more of an insult to the Wayne name than a gift.

Hal sighs and grabs his phone, searching “What to get for a rich guy who has everything” before clicking the first link.

When it comes to spoiling a richie-rich hunk with a gift, it can feel like Mission Impossible. What do you even get for someone who already owns the world? But hold onto your designer handbags, babes, because, with a bit of brainstorming and flair, you can score a gift that'll make even the wealthiest man alive swoon. Trust us! In this juicy piece, we're dishing out a smorgasbord of gift ideas that'll have those high rollers grinning like they’ve been Joker-gassed. It’s time to reverse the roles and unleash your inner sugar parent!

“What the fuck is a smorgasbord?” Hal mumbles to himself before continuing to read.

"Unlocking the Key to Your Sugar Daddy's Heart: Dive into Extravagance with These Top Picks!"

Sugar what? Hal physically recoils at that, holding the phone away from him like it personally attacked him. Bruce isn’t that to him, but it doesn’t hurt to see their ideas.

Number 5: Exquisite Dining Experiences 

Indulge your sugar daddy's palate with lavish dining experiences fit for a king! From candlelit dinners at Michelin-starred restaurants to private chef sessions in the comfort of their own penthouse, these culinary adventures will tantalize his taste buds and leave him craving for more. (Maybe even you. Wink wink.)

Yeah, no. Hal is too broke for that. The best he can do is something from Batburger— maybe a few kid's toys on the side. If he wanted to get really fancy with it, he could get Bruce a shake with an artificial cherry on top and pay extra for a plastic straw.

Number 4: Luxury Spa and Wellness Retreats

Treat your sugar daddy to the ultimate relaxation with luxurious spa and wellness retreats. Pamper him with rejuvenating massages, detoxifying treatments, and serene yoga sessions in exotic locales. After all, a relaxed sugar daddy is a generous sugar daddy!

“Isn’t this catered towards sugar babies? How much money do they even get?” His brows furrow as he continues reading, disheartened. This article seems to assume that the sugar baby is making a good amount of sugar to provide these sorts of gifts. Hal, for better or for worse, is not a sugar baby– though the suit in his closet is probably the closest he’ll get to an experience like it.

Number 3: Exclusive Memberships

Elevate your sugar daddy's status with exclusive memberships to elite clubs and societies. Whether it's a prestigious country club, a members-only lounge, or a VIP access pass to high-profile events, these memberships will grant him entry into the inner circle of the rich and powerful.

Hal is too broke for this. Besides, Bruce hates snobby rich people. The only reason he’d ever go to something like that is when it’s necessary, which is for information gathering and building connections- usually for something mission-related. He’d never willingly spend his free time in such an environment. Aside from the fact that Hal doesn’t know any exclusive memberships besides a gym at a place near his apartment, this gift is also a no-go.

Number 2: Golf-related Gifts

Hit a hole-in-one with golf-related gifts that cater to your sugar daddy's passion for the green. From custom-fitted clubs to private lessons with a pro, these gifts will have him swinging with style and sophistication on the finest fairways around the world.

Does Bruce even play golf? And even if he did, Hal feels like Brucie would mess up the rules somehow and waste whatever gear he got– and it’s not like he wouldn’t have stuff of his own. He’s mentally crossing this off the list.

Though Hal does briefly entertain the idea of Bruce in golf attire: tight white golf pants, a polo shirt, a silly sun visor, and a golf glove. Rich, white suburbia has, hypothetically, never looked so good on someone. 

Number 1: Artistic Expressions

Capture your sugar daddy's imagination with exquisite artistic expressions that speak to his refined tastes. Whether it's a rare painting from a renowned artist, a sculptural masterpiece for his private collection, or a bespoke piece of jewelry crafted by a visionary designer, these artistic treasures will ignite his passion for beauty and creativity.

Hal has got better luck making something himself, but Hal, an artist? That’s more up Kyle’s alley. Hal is prone to a sketch occasionally, but they’re nowhere near the gifting level.

Well, shit.

Perusing other websites, the consensus on what makes good gifts is all the same– save for some with gift ideas that were far too sentimental and lovey-dovey for Hal to even consider giving to Bruce. That’s just not their style.

According to the websites, his best bet is something handmade that can’t be bought with money. What could Hal even give?

Before this stressful web-surging, Hal had turned on his heater, one of the few good things about his place compared to Bruce’s— for a rich guy, the manor always seems cold. Do people associate richness and comfort with blasting the AC? It’s similar to hotel rooms always being a touch too chilly for comfort. As he stands, phone in hand, with no idea what to get the man, he finds himself growing hotter with irritation.

Damn this. Damn, Bruce, for being born into extreme wealth. For anyone else, Hal would just buy them a drink and some small tourist trinket from California that, depending on the person, they’re oddly fascinated with.

For Bruce, though, that would be tacky and thrown out within a minute. Besides, Bruce has had a good number of birthdays under his belt. Hal wants to get him something that’ll stick out and make this one memorable.

The pilot feels stupid. What’s the point in worrying so hard about this? Bruce doesn’t even like him the way Hal likes him. He’s pulling his hair out over someone who doesn’t feel the same- and will never feel the same.

Bruce is so good, and Hal is so mediocre. Why is he trying so hard? No matter what Hal does, it won’t be good enough anyway. Even if he were getting this as just a friend, which he’s realizing he isn’t, nothing would match up to Bruce. 

Hal isn’t good enough.

Bruce’s confusing maybe-flirtations a few nights ago aren’t helping this turmoil either.

Throwing his phone to the side of the seat itself and flopping onto the trusty-old armchair, he lets out a disgruntled sigh, running his sweaty palm down his face.

He wants to give up.

But then he remembers Bruce’s smile, the constant and gentle reassurance he’s received, and all the good the man does in and out of costume. 

Knowing Bruce, the man is probably doing something special for his present– something sickly sentimental and heart-crushingly thoughtful. It’s probably something simple that Hal will get a lot of use from.

He knows Bruce would probably enjoy a gift along those lines, but what does he even get for him? Batman himself has dozens of niche gadgets. Who the hell even carries around shark-repellant? Batman, that’s who! 

He groans with annoyance. He hasn’t felt this irritation towards Bruce in a long time, and maybe his unrequited feelings intensify it, but it’s not even the man’s fault. It’s just that Hal is a shitty gift-giver. Flights and massages would easily woo Carol, but Bruce is different. 

“Whatever,” Hal grunts out the word, trying to feel indifferent to the dilemma. “Whatever! It’s no big deal!” He justifies himself.

Unfortunately, it is a big deal to him.

He can’t even be in denial over his feelings right.

It would be so much easier and less scary if he didn’t have a crush on the billionaire. 

Why does he do this to himself? He hates having feelings for people! Gods, it’s so infuriating- being reduced to a confused, self-critical, self-sabotaging jackass just because someone nice gave him the time of day! Typical Hal Jordan, throwing himself at attention so he doesn’t need to feel the weight of his crippling loneliness, which he’s created for himself.

He sighs, aware his thoughts are unreasonably rude and demeaning towards himself and Bruce. It’s unfair that even his brain is against him.

He feels a tightness grow in his chest- a tightness tied in with this sense of unreality and weightlessness as his leg bounces up and down anxiously. His heart is racing unreasonably fast, and he can feel a weakness and general disconnect spread throughout his body. He’s having heart palpitations.

Is he really going to have an anxiety attack over something like this?

As he feels uncontrollably frustrated, a sense of distress and urgency overwhelms him, and he recognizes that he is. 

Hal’s anxiety attacks never come from fear but more from overwhelm and an impending sense of doom. The overwhelm part is the one kicking his ass right now. These attacks come on when he’s stressed, and his body reacts to them.

“God, I really need to talk to Dinah,” He mutters under his breath, closing his eyes as he attempts to regain control of his responses, thankfully not crying, his saving grace. “Stupid comorbidity and sensory overwhelm.”

As he methodically takes off his flight jacket, uses a construct of a stretchy hand to turn off the heater, and then takes off his ring, he remembers that he hasn’t yet refilled his ADHD meds nor his backup anxiety medication.

He sits for several minutes, trying to regulate himself, and becomes all too aware of his phone buzzing in his seat, the Toccata and Fugue in D Minor playing– signaling that Bruce is calling him.

He ignores it.

“Not now,” he mutters in a sing-songy voice, high-pitched at the end, while annoyed and stressed. His leg bounces faster, causing an itchy, burning feeling in his thigh— runner’s itch.

Bruce calls again, and the sound of the pipe organs that’s ordinarily entertaining and sought out is infuriating and nerve-wracking.

Hal lets out a controlled exhale. 

He ignores it again.

The third time the phone goes off, his anxiety is washed away by annoyance as he picks up the phone with a grit out, “What?”

“Yikes, Green. Bad time?” Jason’s voice comes through the line.

“Just- sorry…” Hal’s brows furrow, and he tries to relax. “Tense. What’s up?” He goes for casual, but it ends up sounding more impatient.

“Right, then. Dickie can deal with this.” Jason hands the phone over to someone else based on the sound of shuffling.

“Hey, Hal! You okay? Jason looks a little, uh, concerned.” Dick’s voice is loud on the speaker.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Hal lies, eager for the call to end so that he can mope in his misery over an unrequited affection for these guys’ father figure. “What’s the call on Bruce’s phone for?”

“Damian was stubborn and didn’t want us to use his phone to call you despite having your number, and Bruce left his phone out. It’s practically open game for us since he doesn’t have anything personal on it, so we called you from here.” Dick’s voice is the epitome of a casual shrug and a smile, and it’s a little relaxing to hear. “Anyway, we called because we wanted to invite you to a birthday party for you and Bruce.”

“A party?”

“I say party, but that really just means all of us plus a few other people Bruce trusts plus cake.” 

“Will there be drinks?”

“Anything you want.”

“Then yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” Hal forces some levity into his voice. “Send me the details?”

“Yeah, of course.” Dick gets the hint and doesn’t give any further details right now. “I’ll get it to your phone somehow; you sound busy right now.”

“Uh, yeah…” Hal sighs. “A bit.”

“Well, good luck, Hal.” Dick’s voice is warm and chipper before the acrobat hangs up.

He sighs for the nth time. Things would be much easier if his feelings towards Bruce didn’t exist. Hal simultaneously wants to lean into them and run away while never speaking to the man again (no, he doesn’t). 

This anxiety feels like it’s about to swallow him whole. It’s not fear- it’s dread.

Trying to escape the feeling, Hal turns on the TV, hoping to find a brainless show that will kill some brain cells and numb his mind.

He settles for a random episode on the History Channel, listening to someone with a monotonous English accent spit out theories about how aliens invented the pyramids.

“And here we come across these ruins,” an archaeologist says, sitting in front of a stone with alien markings on it, and Hal is pretty sure that’s where he’s fought some Manhunters before. “If aliens didn’t make it, then how can one explain these markings or this temple hundreds of thousands of years old? Humans were the secondary species turned into the primary one!”

As the man emphatically waves his hands in the air and speaks, Hal is mildly amused by the lack of knowledge people have about the Guardians. What draws his attention away from that, though, is the headache beginning to settle into his temples.

He really wants a beer.

He’s going to try and sleep the headache and the urges off. He’s too broke for a drink anyway. Without a job, he needs to save money.

God, he can’t do anything right in his life.

Wanting to stop the spiral before it starts, Hal crosses his arms and falls asleep on his armchair.

He’s only woken up an hour or so later by the familiar sound of the pipe organ from his ringtone.

Bruce.

He debates just letting it ring, but despite his better judgment, he picks up.

“Hal, how are y–”

“Hey, Spooks,” Hal cuts the man off, feeling a bit cranky, overwhelmed, and tired. He hasn’t eaten, and he’s still lethargic. “Can we talk later?”

“Sure, but something is wrong. You sound tense.”

“I’m just in a mood. I need some time to just– I dunno- think? I need room to breathe, so if you could just hang up or something, that would be great.”

There’s a beat of silence before Bruce’s worried voice comes through. “Hal, if you ever need someone to—“

“Can you just leave me alone? What I need is space, please. ” Hal’s annoyance from the entire unproductive day flares up and is pushed into the word, making it sound far more personal than it ought to be. “I said I’m in a mood, so it’s not personal, but God, Spooks, I’ll be fine without your nose all up in my shit.”

“Right then.” Bruce’s voice is clipped and hurt if Hal is reading it right. 

His heart drops in his chest. “Wait, Bruce, I’m sorry. That was– I just have a headache, and I haven’t eaten yet.” Hal doesn’t mention the anxiety attack.

“A headache and not eating don’t excuse you being a complete ass. It’s on you to take care of yourself.”

“I know, I know. Just, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Saying it at all was bad enough, regardless of whether you meant it or not.”

“Bruce, you’re shutting me out. Let’s talk this through.”

He hears a chuffed huff in response.

“Bruce, gorgeous, please,” Hal pleads. “I want to talk to you. I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’d rather not. As you said earlier, I want space.” He can hear the frown in Bruce’s voice. “I trust you’ll sort this out. Goodbye, Jordan.”

Hal hears a click before his phone goes silent.

“God, he has got to stop calling me by my last name when he’s upset with me.” Hal frowns before holding his head in his hands, tired. He feels the headache coming back with a vengeance, not helped by his rejection of following the urge to walk a few blocks down to a bar he likes or avoiding calling up Ollie for a late make-up for the one time he ditched the man. 

He really wants some fucking alc right now; he’ll take anything- it’s like an insatiable, nagging itch that’ll only go away with a sip of the drink.  

Hell, it may even get his creative juices flowing; give him an idea of what to get Bruce as an apology gift and a birthday present. Though he notes with some chagrin that he did try to communicate, ironically enough, he got the space he no longer wants. Bruce is closing himself off over something that would normally slide off him like water off a duck’s back.

Is Bruce okay? Why is he pulling back over something as “small” as this? Hal has been a bigger dick before.

Looking at the turned-down picture frames on his shelves and all too aware of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he feels a surge of self-loathing.

He sighs.

Yep. It’s a good night to call Ollie. Maybe Hal can convince him to pay.

Chapter Text

“So, like I was saying, Bruce is so good,” Hal sighs into his glass, feeling the warm exhale come back and brush against his upper lip. “What do you even get for someone that good?”

“Just… hm.” Oliver seems equally stumped from his side in the booth. “I would say take my card and woo him with my wealth, but he’s…”

“Richer than you?” Barry smiles around a handful of fries and laughs from across him when the archer flips him off.

“ Equally affluent.” The archer corrects.

“Equally affluent, he claims, but somehow we always end up reaching for our wallets when it's time to settle the tab for drinks,” Hal chuckles.

“Yeah, and for food,” Barry rolls his eyes, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation. “Even my salary can’t keep up with speedster metabolism.”

“So I’m hearing that you two are ungrateful shits and want to foot the bill tonight?” Oliver raises a blonde brow, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he chuckles at their affronted glares. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.” He waves his hand dismissively and takes another gulp from his drink. “It’s just that this squeaky-clean charity I like was about to fold last month until I swooped in with a big donation, so Dinah had to rein me in with a spending limit.”

“The price of being a social justice warrior,” Barry says with a grin, his tone lighthearted. “Pun intended.”

Hal chuckles in amusement while Oliver groans in mock annoyance.

“Careful with those puns, Barry, or we might just make you foot the bill tonight,” Oliver warns jokingly, reaching over to snatch a fry from the plate.

“Okay, okay, guys—focus, please?” Hal impatiently crosses his arms, calling their attention back to the matter at hand. “What do I get Bruce for his birthday?”

“What things do dads like?” Oliver unhelpfully offers. He, despite the stories of Bruce and his philanthropy, believes the man to be a relatively shallow asshole just because he’s rich.

“I’m up against his kids in the gift department,” Hal remarks, his expression turning slightly sour. “With Damian involved, it’s practically a test for Bruce’s approval. Even if I’m not trying to impress him romantically, I still have to prove I’m worthy of being a friend.” He shakes his head, adding, “And forget about golf stuff; Brucie would probably use the wrong clubs or put the glove on the wrong hand or something.” Hal sighs, frustrated by the complications added by Bruce’s celebrity status and persona.

“A mug?” Barry tries.

“Nah. Bruce has a favorite already.”

“A loving, home-cooked meal,” Oliver raises a brow, sure he’s picked a winner.

“No… Anything his butler, Alfred, makes is a thousand times better.”

“Jeez, you’re a real fun person to be around right now…” Hal half-heartedly scowls at Ollie.

“Alcohol?” Barry shrugs.

“He doesn’t drink.”

“Uh, dude.” The speedster and the archer exchange a look. “He does all the time.” 

Right, Brucie. Damn.

“Look, Hal, I’m all for seeing the good in people, but are you sure about going after Brucie Wayne?” Barry continues, his tone laced with skepticism. “Sure, he’s sweet and probably dumb enough to buy whatever excuse you give for why you’re off in space without revealing your identity. But him? Really? Wasn’t he the guy who once advocated for kangaroo races because, you know, we already have human and horse races? Let’s face it, he’s not exactly the most accurate reagent in the forensic chemistry kit.”

“And dogs, too,” Oliver chimes in with a laugh. “He argues that kangaroo races should be a thing because he was inspired by humans, dogs, and horses.”

Barry looks at Hal with a concerned expression. “Look, Hal, I know he’s a billionaire and all, but we want you to be happy. Is he…” Barry trails off, hesitating slightly before continuing, “Is he what makes you happy? Because right now, you just seem stressed.”

“He does; he makes me happy— I dunno if I make him happy, but I want to. I want this gift, at least, to do that,” Hal admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Oliver gives Hal a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You know, I always say, if you can’t buy happiness, buy another round of drinks!” he jokes, signaling for the bartender to bring another round.

And another.

And another .

And soon, maybe because Ollie kept feeding him his drinks, or maybe because Barry kept looking at him like he couldn’t do it, but Hal drank way more than he should have.

Five shots of tequila in less than half an hour on top of what they’ve already had is disgusting on so many levels. 

That much alcohol, at least, is Hal’s excuse for texting Bruce.

Bruce

Hey big guy

I’m sorry I was an ass earlier

You were just trying to help

It’s fine, Hal.

It’s not

Bruce doesn’t text him back, but the text says, ‘Read.’

Hal is so fucked.

“Fine” in Bruce’s language is essentially “everything is crashing, burning, and unfixable.”

Following Hal’s beliefs, Bruce hardly messages him the next few days, and when he does, the messages are sparse and perfunctorily polite.

He doesn’t even send the usual sunset picture, which Hal typically gets at least twice a week.

To top it all off, later that same week, Hal bombs two job interviews, both times because he had minor threats to deal with as a Green Lantern. It’s not like he’s missing out on much; the job descriptions being able to work as part of a project team to plan, design, and review drawings and specifications for “exciting” and “engaging” large-scale Aviation projects (Taxiways, Runaways, Airfield, Aprons, etc.), nothing that sounds nearly as exciting as flying a craft, but for entry-level, quick hiring jobs, Hal’s a little upset he won’t be able to get some good cash.

It must be karma for being such a shitty friend, blowing up at Bruce like that. He really needs to work on it, he knows, but it’s so easy to push everything good away from him. When will Bruce finally get sick of him? At what point will he break the camel’s back? 

Hal doesn’t know if he’ll be relieved or heartbroken when that day comes.

Worst of all, he still doesn’t know what to get Bruce, leading to a series of phone calls.

He’s stressed and overwhelmed, and it feels like the universe hates him.

He’s a white hole– the opposite of a black hole. When someone gets too close, he can’t help but push them away.

Still, he’s trying; he’s really trying to get things right for Bruce. 

That leads to this awkward phone call, Jim on the other side of the line.

“Jim, what sorta gift do you get Susan for her birthdays?”

“Sue?” Jim gives a thoughtful hum. “Some flowers, I’ll clean the house, and I’ll take her out to dinner- gift her something she’s been hinting at. You know her, she’s always been clever like that. Why?”

Hal sighs, brushing his hair back with his free hand, pacing in his living room once more.

“I’m trying to buy Bruce a gift. I can’t think of what to get him.”

“Well, I dunno. That guy seems like the kind of guy to be easily entertained.” Jim is unhelpful, as expected, but it was worth a shot.

They stray from the topic of the gift for a few minutes.

“Alright,” Hal says after an unproductive conversation, the two of them filling the silence with menial topics like the Coast City Angels record, Howie’s grades, and Jane’s new fixation on this TV show after Jim was no help with a gift. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Alright, man.” Jim sounds as though he’s about to hang up before tentatively speaking up with a “Hal?”

“Yeah?”

“You really like him, don’t you? I know we’ve talked about him before, but you really do, huh?”

Hal pauses before nodding even though the younger can’t see him. “Yeah.”

“That’s good. After Carol, I was worried… uh- yeah,” Jim trails off. “Well, uh, good luck with gift hunting then.”

“Thanks, Jim.” There’s a hesitant pause before Hal pushes past his mortification and awkwardness to tack on an “I love you, man” at the end.

His younger brother lets out a nervous, strained chuckle. “I uh- love you too, dude.”

Ah, brotherly awkwardness. 

Not wanting to think too deeply about how much he’s missed it, the pilot hangs up and calls the next person on his list, someone he’s already talked to about this before. 

“Oh, Hal.” Barry sighs against the microphone, judging by the sudden grainy sound Hal hears from his phone speaker. “You’re really stuck on this, huh?”

“Look, I just want to make sure I do the right thing, give him something as special as he is.”

“Oh,” the speedster’s voice sounds unsure. “I was going to suggest something functional. Or maybe something that makes him think of you?”

“Like what, a green shirt or a glow-in-the-dark airplane toy?” Hal groans at the notion. “A Coast City Angels jersey? Tickets to a game? There is nothing I can get this guy that he can’t get himself.”

“But Hal, that’s the thing. You’re getting it for him. That’s what makes it special.” Barry's voice is warm and reassuring, tinged with his characteristic optimism. “What about a pen or something he’ll use every day?”

Hal responds with a thoughtful hum, contemplating Barry's suggestion.

“Or, I dunno, maybe Ollie had the right idea in something homemade.”

“Aw, nortz, don’t tell him that.” Hal's tone is light and infused with humor. “It’ll get to his head.”

“Nortz?” Barry chuckles, his amusement evident in his voice. “You and your alien colloquialisms.”

“Ooh, that’s a big word there, Bar’- careful not to cramp your brain with that, buddy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d say it back, but I don’t have many fucks to give.”

“Saving them all for Bruce and the gift you haven’t chosen for him?”

“Bingo.”

“I dunno, man; I don’t think I’ll be much help on this front.” Barry's tone shifts to a more contemplative one, punctuated by the sound of him munching on something crunchy. “I’m not the one you’re trying to woo here.”

Hal sighs.

“Not to point out the obvious, but have you asked him what he wants?”

“I tried, but we both decided that we should surprise each other, whatever that means.”

“Well, that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“What, surprising him?”

“Yeah, dude. He’s a billionaire. Give him a hot dog from one of the street vendors of Gotham or something.” Barry sounds like he’s only partly joking. “Give him the gift of giving; research a handful of charities he would like.”

“Jason’s favorite food is chili dogs, so Bruce is sure to have had Gotham street food before. And for that second part…” How would Hal explain that Bruce has a giant supercomputer that has already analyzed anything Hal could ever offer? “That’s a no-go. W.E. is thorough in their dealings. Bruce’s done everything he can.”

“Hal, have you considered that you’re shutting everyone’s input down because you already know what you want to do, it’s just that you want a certain someone’s approval before you go through with it?”

“Whose approval?” Hal gives an uncomfortable huff, sweaty hand in his flight jacket as he stops pacing for a second. “I already told you Bruce and I are surprising each other.”

“No, dude. I meant…” There’s a pause as the speedster debates saying something. 

“Meant?”

“Carol.”

“What?” Hal stops in his tracks. “Why her?”

“Ask yourself that. I’m just making a really educated guess.” He hears Barry sigh. “I’m gonna have to hang up now, but text me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright. Bye, man.”

The line clicks. 

What did Barry mean by contacting Carol? 

Sure, Hal may want her approval. She’s his ex, the one he always thought he’d marry, who had always waited for him until the day she didn’t.

And other than that, she’s his friend, kind of. She’s the one who knows him most and who, somehow, doesn’t resent him despite everything. 

She was his constant, the moon that pulled the tides, the anchor that never strayed. 

He took her for granted.

He doesn’t want that with Bruce. That’s one of the few things stopping him from kissing the man like he’s wanted to do for weeks. He doesn’t want to hurt Bruce like he did with Carol. He doesn’t want to keep hurting those he loves, but sometimes, it feels like that’s all he’s good for. It’s been proven time and time again that it’s true.

Is calling Carol selfish? 

Part of Hal knows she won’t be too upset that he’s called- maybe she’ll even be relieved that he’s begun to move on, but that finality of leaving for real, to let go of that relationship is daunting. 

He regrets how he’s treated her– not that he treated her poorly, but that he took her companionship for granted in some ways.

But he’s come to accept that she’s moved on. It’s been months, and if she can be happy with someone new, he can too.

He’s not scared to call her to finalize the start of moving on, but it’s a hard leap to make.

But the hard things are the things worth doing. 

Hal resists the urge to laugh at himself for thinking of the double entendre and instead makes the call, not thinking too hard about it.

It rings only once before he hears her concerned voice: “Hal, why are you calling me? I’ve already told you I’ve moved on.”

“Heyyyy, Carol,” he punctuates her name with a strained laugh upon realizing they haven’t spoken in months. “What’s up?”

“ What’s up? ” She sounds annoyed and worried. “My ex, you , called me right before a very important work meeting after not staying in contact for a few months. Actually, I would’ve thought you were dead had it not been for all those articles of you with Bruce Wayne. So forgive me if I’m snappy, but this had better be quick and important.”

“Well, it kinda is? I mean, it has to do with Bruce, so…”

“What did you do, Jordan?”

Geez, is his type people who find him incompetent?

“Why do you think I did something?” Hal frowns. “That’s not fair. Well, most of the time-”

“Because you always do something, Hal. So what is it this time?” Carol sighs, but he can hear the amusement in her voice. “Did he fall for your prince charming schtick, and now you need to break his heart?”

“That, uh, feels a little pointed, Carol.”

“Hm. I wonder.”

“Well, uh, it’s actually the opposite? I’m trying to win over his heart. I need help choosing a birthday present for him.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other side of the line.

“Carol?”

“This isn’t some elaborate thing to make me jealous, is it?”

“What?” Hal’s brows pinch together. Is that what she really thinks of him? “No, I’m serious– he’s– I’m really into him, Carol.”

“Prove it.” 

“What?”

“Tell me what you like about him.”

Hal feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Don’t you have an important work meeting?”

“That was a lie, so I could get out of here if you acted clingy.” She barks a laugh before sipping what he assumes is her daily cup of coffee. “Now spill, Jordan.”

“Well, he’s a guy not afraid to chew me out when I need to be brought back to Earth. He’s surprisingly funny and charming- beyond the whole public persona thing, he’s a genuinely good guy and… I dunno- Carol, do I really need to do this?”

“You owe me for messing with my date once.”

Hal sighs. Damn him and his jealousy issues.

“Okay, uh, well,” Hal sweeps a hand back through his hair. “He’s brave and dedicated and puts a hundred percent of himself into what he does. He’s kind and good at reassuring me when I get stuck in my head. Maybe that’s why he’s so good- great with his family. They’re all good kids.”

“You’ve met them?”

“Yeah. Yeah, the kids, they’re… I can’t even begin to describe all of them without simplifying them, Carol. They’re all great. And Bruce, he’s such a good dad, he’s- you can tell much trust and respect there is between everyone.”

“Have you talked to uh- what’s his face -” Carol snaps her fingers, trying to help herself remember. “Jim! Jim. Have you talked to him recently?”

“Yeah, uh, just before you called me, actually.”

“Really?” She sounds pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah, hanging with Bruce and the kids made me, uh, wanna reach out.”

“That’s good.” He can hear the relief in her voice. “That’s really good, Hal.”

“Yeah, Bruce is good for me. He’s a bit of a stubborn asshole, but…”

“You’ve always liked someone who was just as stubborn as you.”

“Yeah. He’s a fun guy. And his heart… Carol, I have never met such a pessimistic optimist, but he’s an optimist through and through. He never gives up on people, and it’s…” Hal sighs, a loving one, as he readjusts the phone in his hand. “Anyway, was that enough?”

“I suppose it was.” Carol shifts on the other side of the line and clears her throat. “For what it’s worth, Hal, I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The two exes sit in an amiable silence before she breaks it.

“So, what’s this about a gift?”

Hal explains the situation, and Carol, the wise woman she is, just laughs.

“Oh, Hal, it’s easy. Just picture the person who’s receiving your gift smiling. Think less about your feelings and worries and more about what would make them smile– it doesn’t need to be some big thing or some lifelong happiness.”

Hal sits with it for a minute.

“You make it sound so easy, Carol.”

“Because it is. Look, I’m sure the guy will appreciate anything you get him, no matter how big or small, so get him something that’ll make him smile. Do it from love, not for love.”

Hal thinks for a moment.

“You got something in mind?” Carol asks.

“I do; I’m just… it’s kind of dumb.”

“Those tend to be your best ideas, Hal.”

“Hah!” Hal feels somewhat reassured by this, honestly. “Yeah, I guess so, huh?”

Catching up with Carol after that is easy. 

She talks about Nathan, her boyfriend, a lot, and she seems happy. The man provides Carol with the comfort and stability that was never afforded to her when she was with Hal. Hal talks about Bruce– about how he won the raffle, the suit, the cruise, and all the other moments they’ve shared, about his insecurities and doubts, how Bruce has reassured him, and his space missions.

It was a good phone call.

Today, for once in this godforsaken week, was productive for Hal. That’s why he’s going to ride this wave and do something difficult.

He flies into the Batcave a bit before Bruce begins to prep for patrol, knowing that the security and motion sensors will pick up on his entrance and alert the man.

That’s why he’s unsurprised when he hears the deep voice of the other calling out to him. 

“Jordan.”

“Hey, Bruce.” He turns around to see the billionaire's tired but slightly confused look on his face. “I came to say sorry.” 

“You already did, and I told you it was fine.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s fine, and I thought I should apologize in person. Plus,” Hal’s hand raises and falls, “you haven’t been talking to me really for the past few days.”

“I’ve just been busy.”

“Really?” Hal raises a questioning brow, not wholly believing his words.

Bruce gives a terse nod.

“Well, I’m sorry for being an ass when you called and when you tried to check up on me. And I’m sorry if I’m overstepping by coming here, but it just feels like you’re still pulling away from me.” Hal brushes a hand through his hair, a tic of his, as he takes in the sight of the other. It’s only been a few days, but it’s felt like longer. Just last week, they were having fun at an amusement park. “Bruce, other than me being rude, did I do something wrong?”

“What do you mean?” The man crosses his arms, gaze inquisitive.

“I just mean that in terms of personal fights, we’ve gone through worse, Bruce.” Hal feels himself numb with a realization. “Oh, this was it, wasn’t it? Was this the final straw? Oh, you hate me now.”

“I don’t hate you, Jordan.”

“Then what is it? Because you’re calling me by my last name and avoiding my question, and it…” Hal hears his voice shaking with emotion. “I feel like what I’ve been fearing has come true: that I ruined something good all over again.” Hal’s shoulders fall, and he feels his stomach lurch with the vulnerability of admitting that he’s afraid of something- and something that relates to the man in front of him, no less.

“No. No, it’s not that. Hal, I just didn’t want to get hurt more. I did what you did last time; I self-sabotaged.” Bruce has a frown on his face as he contemplates his words. “I saw the first chance to leave, and I went for it. We’re people, and hurt is inevitable.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Regardless of intent, you did. And I don’t like being hurt, and I’m not too keen on discussing this matter further. Consider yourself forgiven.”

“No one likes being hurt.” Hal sighs and steps closer to the man. “Bruce, I’m sorry, but like you said, we’re people. We make mistakes- we hurt each other. I want to talk things out with you. I don’t want to hurt you and have one of us ice each other out each time.”

“I know.” Bruce begins to look away, body ready to turn and leave.

“Look at me.” Hal takes another step closer, projecting his movements before placing his hand on the other’s shoulder. “We can’t avoid each other just because we’re scared of hurting each other or being hurt, Bruce.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Hal’s brows are furrowed as he searches the man’s expression for a sign of what went wrong. “Please, gorgeous. I can’t fix a problem I don’t know exists. What did I do wrong?”

Bruce sighs and turns around, a small frown on his face. “You’re hot and then cold with me, Hal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I understand talking to me like you did on the phone if we disagree over something in uniform because stakes are always high with our jobs, but I won't take it when it’s you and me, just Hal and Bruce.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are- you’ve said it a thousand times now, Hal. I’m just telling you that  I wouldn’t let anyone talk to my children like that, so I sure as hell won’t accept it for myself. And we’re friends. I wouldn’t care so much if we were just teammates in the League, but if we’re friends, you need to speak kinder.”

Hal just nods at that.

“But I’m sorry too,” Bruce continues. “I was too quick to shut you out and cut off contact.” Bruce sighs. “I feel as though some part of me was waiting for you to make a mistake so that I would be justified in isolating myself. I was overwhelmed by how much you mean to me, and it scared me.”

“Bruce…”

The man just holds up a hand, effectively shutting Hal up.

“I’ve told you this before, but I’ve grown quite fond of you, Hal. So much so that losing you in my life would hurt me in ways I don’t wish to explore.” Bruce’s blue eyes pierce right through Hal. “I value our friendship more than I can express. Now that I have you in my life, losing you would leave a void that I'm not sure I could ever fill.”

Had it not been for the friendship part tacked onto the beginning, Hal could have deluded himself into believing this was a confession. Still, though, he should be grateful for anything, considering how unsure he was about how this conversation would go.

“I feel the same way, Bruce.” Hal squeezes Bruce’s shoulder. “I’m glad we’re friends, buddy.”

“Buddy?” There’s an amused curl at the end.

Hal chuckles. “It felt right. We were talking about friendship and all that, and ‘gorgeous’ just seemed like it would be a little out of place there.”

“That’s a shame.” Bruce smiles finally. “I rather like hearing you call me gorgeous.”

“Oh.” Hal’s traitorous heart doesn’t get the message of just friendship and flutters in his chest. “Well, uh, I’ve missed you, gorgeous.”

Bruce smiles wider. “I’ve missed you too, Hal.”

“So, are we good?”

“We’re good, Hal.”

“Cool.” Hal finally relaxes and goes to pull his hand away from Bruce’s shoulder when the man takes that hand and tugs him into a hug. “Oh! Uh-”

“You looked like you needed it.”

Heat rushes to Hal’s cheeks, and he’s glad that Bruce can’t see it.

“You’re, uh, right.” Hal smiles. “I think I did.” He squeezes the man tighter against him and feels the rumble of Bruce’s laugh against his own chest.

“I’m the smartest in the League. Of course, I’m right.”

“Oh!” Hal laughs. “You’re taking the title back?”

Bruce chuckles and pulls back enough so that Hal can see his face. “Already did, Flyboy.”

Hal thinks back to his dumb gift idea. The article recommended something artistic, Barry and Oliver suggested something homemade, and Carol advised picturing Bruce’s smile upon receiving it.

He knows what he’s going to do, and picturing Bruce’s smile- one just as radiant as this one- is enough to solidify that notion.

It’ll be well worth the trip to the craft store.

God, he’s so gone, isn’t he?

He never stood a chance.

Some part of Hal Jordan knows the truth: it’s more than just a crush. A crush is a small word in comparison to the depth of his feelings for Bruce. 

He loves him.

Hal loves Bruce.

It’s selfish, but he wants Bruce to love him too.

If only.

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne is a hypocrite and an idiot.

He keeps telling Hal that he can be honest, genuine, and authentically himself with him, yet he harbors secret feelings for the Lantern that threaten to come out every second he spends by the man’s side.

Looking back on it all, it’s no wonder Bruce fell in love with Hal.

It was easy to fall.

He has always admired strong, independent, complex, and compassionate people. Talia and Selina exemplify these qualities, and Hal does, too.

Bruce squints his eyes as he carefully pierces two small circles from a thick sheet of metal, filing it precisely along the lines he’d sketched and outlined with metal glue.

Hal is strong. 

As one of the few “normal” humans in the League, Hal's resilience and grit are evident in every aspect of his character- it’s tethered into the very fibers of his being. Whether it's his unwavering courage in the face of danger, his sharp intellect, or his emotional depth, Hal embodies a strength that commands respect, one that Bruce finds is easily given to the man (once you get past his cocky attitude). Unlike Bruce, who often grapples with his fears and insecurities, Hal charges forward with a fearless determination that Bruce finds both inspiring and humbling. 

Hal embodies willpower, and if that’s not strength, what is?

Bruce now grabs some prongs and a blowtorch, heating the metal to about a hundred degrees and burning away the glue he used to outline the circles. Then, he takes some sandpaper and cleans up any residue.

The philanthropist holds the circles he’s filed out up to the light, giving a satisfied hum deep in his throat upon acknowledging their symmetrical nature- the two practically perfect metallic silver circles pinched between his forefingers and thumbs.

He then cuts away the insides, methodically following the calculations he had made to keep them as even as possible. He’s left with the frames.

“It looks better than expected,” Bruce says to himself, his voice slightly echoing in the cave. A small and pleased smile comes onto his lips, and he continues to reflect on what Hal means to him.

The man’s independence simultaneously grates on Bruce like sandpaper against his skin and awes him. Unlike himself, who is constantly bound by the responsibilities of his various personas: Brucie Wayne, Bruce Wayne, and Batman– Hal enjoys a sense of freedom that Bruce can only dream of. Bruce never gets just to be . He is forever tethered to his public image, his duties to Gotham, and the demands of his family, each persona defining him in its own way. He is not one without the other. In contrast, Hal seems untethered, unencumbered by the typical constraints of civilian life. Bruce envies this freedom, but he also fears for Hal, knowing the risks that come with such independence. 

Despite what some people may think, Hal is complex. While many only see the ring and a jobless test pilot, The billionaire can see the emotional depth hidden behind flirty jokes and smiles that don’t quite reach the other man’s eyes. 

Bruce uses some boracic powder mixed with isopropyl alcohol and fires the metal again, using a green flame to solder the frames to the backing materials.

The sound of fire rushes in his ears, and he can feel the heat pressing against his gloved hands. It’s a good thing the Batsuit he’s wearing is fireproof. The GRS third-hand clamp solder station helps somewhat.

The two heroes have something in common: they both watched the traumatic death of a parent. For Bruce, it was two; for Hal, it was one. They lost their heroes in tragic circumstances. Hal’s worst fear of losing his hero came true. He lost his father and watched him crash. What else would he have to fear afterward? 

With passive suicidality disguised as heroism, Hal dons the ring and charges headfirst into situations, unafraid of doing what’s right to save those in need. Bruce both loves and loathes it. It’s hypocritical to loathe those self-sacrificial tendencies in Hal, but that’s the man he’s grown to love– who his kids have grown to accept into part of their daily lives. 

Shaken out of his reflection, Bruce grabs some shimmering green magnetic gel gloss. Once he coats the circles in it, they should still look silver, but upon turning them side to side, they have a shimmering green quality. 

He carefully paints the framed metal circles before grabbing a small magnet and hovering it over them for about fifteen seconds before pulling it away. He immediately cures them under a sticker-covered (courtesy of Stephanie) UV lamp for two minutes, using a tweezer stand to hold the gel-covered metal.

Bruce is left with two handmade cufflink bases. He allows himself to drift in and out of thought- something he’s wont to do when alone in the cave. It helps time to pass by.

Bruce knows why Hal is detached: because you can’t be hurt that way. It’s a flaw they both share, though he himself is prone to clinging to people despite the hurt.

Hal is so compassionate. He’s good with kids– Bruce’s kids, especially. All the kids seem to appreciate the pilot’s presence. Dick, ever the extrovert, gets along with him well. Their natural-born leadership qualities and strong will helped them overcome their families’ deaths and make them similar. Jason seems to take solace in that the man doesn’t seem scared of him. Cassandra and Stephanie have good banter with him, and like that he makes Bruce flustered. Tim and Duke, while not as close to him as the others, seem to get on with him just fine. The pilot’s outgoing nature and tendency to talk without shutting up make him a good conversationalist with those two. Damian enjoys the man’s genuine interest and random info-dumping, plus the fact that he secretly (not so secretly to the kids) has Bruce wrapped around his fingers, which means that a new kitten is living in the barn all because of his influence. They all seem to get along with him in a way he somehow expected and didn’t expect.

Bruce then sweats the cufflink onto the backing with liquid flux after drilling and soldering a hole directly in the middle of it.

With rhodium plating, the handmade cufflinks are finished. Holding them to his chest, he continues to think about his feelings.

Talia and Selina know him better than most people, and they both know him in ways that even the closest to him don’t know. Still, things didn’t work out with them. It didn’t matter how much Talia loved him or how many chances he gave Selina, but something— always something about him— drove them away, making it impossible for their love to be enough.

Love isn’t enough.

And lately, with Hal, he’s wondering if it can be– if they have what it takes to have a healthy, functioning relationship. 

Bruce isn’t stupid. He’s the world’s greatest detective. He has come to the conclusion that Hal most likely has feelings for him. 

Though somewhat emotionally constipated, Bruce isn’t stupid— he really isn’t. He knows that he has feelings for Hal and, even more, wants to pursue them.

There’s this quote: “Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear,” and it comes to mind when he thinks of Hal, both because of the man’s mindset and because of what he wants.

He’s scared to be hurt, but he’s even more afraid of not knowing the potential of a relationship with Hal.

Love is a verb, and it’s one that he’s willing to enact time and time again.

He’s pictured it: quiet nights with just Hal and the kids. He’s imagined those touches- those hugs and hands on shoulders turning into interlocked hands. He imagined the way Hal’s laugh could turn into a breathy sigh if he just had the chance to kiss him. 

But the people who have loved him always found reasons to leave– Talia, his love, and Selina, his cat. What about him isn’t worth staying for?

And unlike Hal, Bruce is always scared. Bruce runs on fear- Batman exists because of fear.

He’s scared that he’s read things wrong, and he doesn’t want Hal to hate him.

Hal can’t be that dense about his flirtations, right? He thought he’d been plenty flirtatious, even before he realized he had feelings for the man— which, duh, Bruce, of course you’ve loved this man for a while. How could he not?

Hal is so intelligent that he’d be hard-pressed not to recognize Bruce’s feelings. Probably. The Lantern is frustratingly unpredictable in this situation. It’s uncomfortable not to have control here.

He needs to go out and visit the stylist, and then he will have dinner with Clark and Diana since she’s visiting the United States for a work trip. 

He doesn’t really have time to be thinking so heavily on this.

Putting the cufflinks into a small black jewelry box, he pockets them and makes his way out.

— — — 

“Oh, Mister Wayne,” the stylist greets him with an exaggerated smile and wave, smile lines and dimples appearing on their face. “It’s always a pleasure to see you. Is your partner not here this time around?”

“Good afternoon. And, no, unfortunately, today I’m not blessed with Hal's presence.” Bruce smiles charmingly at the person, walking over to the samples of suits with varying colors and cuts. “Say, that green you said would look good on them. Do you think you could make a custom black suit with a French cut and that Essex Green as a tie?”

“Waistcoat, too?”

“If you would.”

“Yes, Mister Jordan has broad shoulders and a small waist. It’s a shame to hide it with a vest, but the cut does end up highlighting it.” The stylist emphatically nods along, pleased with Bruce’s choices. “He’s a very lucky man.”

“No, I’m the lucky one to be blessed with his companionship.” Bruce smiles, filled with pride as he thinks of his friend. Regardless of whether or not his feelings are returned, he’s very proud of the Lantern and his achievements, and he’s honored to work alongside him.

“Oh! If it’s not rude to ask, how long have you two been together?”

Bruce thinks back on it. He and the other hero have been working together for “Over a decade now.”

The stylist’s brows raise into their hairline. “Ah- I thought that with rumors of you and Miss Kyle…”

“Oh, no.” Bruce waves a dismissive hand as he watches the stylist go through notes to find Hal’s measurements. “That’s a separate thing.” He and Selina are on and off in terms of their friendship and truces. The public knows only bits and pieces, and their relationship is as private as can be with Bruce’s status considered.

“Sounds um… complicated.” The stylist gives a weak smile, circling something on their notepad.

“No, it’s very simple to us, actually. We have an arrangement.” Bruce doesn’t discuss anything in depth that may give away his or her identity. There’s no need for a simple civilian to be privy to any more information about them.

They nod again, taking the hint. “Right. Well, regardless, I’m glad you and Mister Jordan are still going strong.”

The wording of “regardless” there is somewhat odd considering the context of work and friendship partnerships in relation to Selina and his past relationship, but Bruce just gives a thoughtful hum. “Yes. I’m glad for that as well.”

“For the tie,” the stylist looks up from the pad, “what material are you looking for?”

“Satin silk.”

“Formal evening attire then.”

“Yes, that’s right. The last suit was more casual, no?”

“As always, Mister Wayne, your understanding of formal wear is refreshing.” This stylist’s shoulders slump, and they let out a dramatic sigh. “See, this other day; I had a client who wanted texture on their opera-viewing attire. Texture! How do they not understand that viewing texture is more casual wear?”

“That sounds positively bone-chilling to imagine.” Bruce plays up his response, physically shuddering as that’s something that Brucie would do.

“I know!” The stylist puts a hand on their chest. “As always, you are a breath of fresh air.” They smile at him. “So, are you taking Mister Jordan out to dinner in this attire?”

Bruce thinks of it. Hal would likely be too flabbergasted by the gift's cost and luxury to wear it without proper incentive. Asking him to dinner sounds like a logical course of action. “Yes, that’s the plan. He gets too nervous with these sorts of things.”

“Well, a custom suit is no gift to scoff at. Is there a particular occasion?”

“His birthday is coming up.”

“Oh! How sweet. Well, we’ll be sure to add a special something to his gift- with the hopes of building a great relationship with him. I wouldn’t mind making more suits tailored for his figure.”

“Careful there,” Brucie jokingly warns, “I might get jealous if you get too sweet on him.” Brucie was their loyal customer first, after all.

“Oh! My apologies.” The stylist giggles. “You’re right. He’s off limits— he’s all yours.”

Bruce’s brow furrows a microscopic amount. He’s sure there’s some sort of misunderstanding here, but he’s not quite aware of what it is, so he just gives a charming laugh.

The rest of the appointment goes smoothly and Hal’s suit is set to arrive before his birthday. It costs an amount that Hal should never hear of in his life if Bruce wishes for the man to get into the suit.

Which he does- the man would look good in it, after all, so his lips are sealed.

Bruce makes his way over to Metropolis, imagining Hal’s all too familiar fuck yous every time he is in the wrong lane or makes a wrong turn. He sure is mouthy for a man that doesn’t drive them around.

“I miss him,” Bruce says to himself at one point, his hands tapping along the wheel almost anxiously as he looks at the empty seat next to him, still reclined to match Hal’s preference.

He sighs to himself.

He really is gone. He really loves Hal, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it— not that he really wants to. 

Hal makes him happy.

It’s selfish, but he’s happy to imagine a future with the other— scared to all hell but happy.

Is he content with just a friendship, though? Maybe. He’s still debating it.

Bibbo’s Diner, a retro-styled eatery in Metropolis, is his destination. He’s eaten there with Clark multiple times in costume in the past. It’s a small, low-key place, one where even Brucie Wayne won’t gather much attention.

He arrives first because, of course, he does. He’s Bruce Wayne, and being a businessman is one of the facets of his identity. He knows how to arrive on time.

As he’s teased, though, part of him wishes he hadn’t arrived at all— well, not really, but still, does it really come as such a surprise?

“Honestly, Bruce,” Clark smiles at him, “I’m surprised that you’re admitting this at all. I figured it would take longer.”

“Yes,” Diana nods. “I had expected it to take at least a few more months for you to recognize your feelings— not that I doubted you would, but your emotional development is pleasing to see.”

“Pleasing to see?” Bruce’s brows furrow in a prominent manner as he glares at the two. “Why are neither of you surprised by the fact that I have feelings for the Lantern but are rather more surprised by my emotionality?”

“Well…” Diana trails off and chuckles, looking at Clark.

“Super hearing. Plus, I’m an investigative journalist. I pick up on the small things.”

“Super hearing for me as well,” Diana chimes in with a smile, “though it doesn’t take much else to recognize your romantic intent with him.”

“It was a bit obvious.”

Bruce feels embarrassment roil in his gut. “Obvious, how?”

“Well,” Diana smiles around her straw before her lips pull off of it. “Your heart rates. Clark and I talk about it often.”

“The banter,” Clark chimes in next.

“I banter with you both all the time.”

“Yes, but you both bicker in a different manner.” Diana twirls the straw in her shake between her pointer and thumb. “You have private jokes, and you’re more expressive with him.”

“It just feels different; it almost makes me feel like I’m intruding on you both,” Clark laughs.

“Yes, I understand!” Diana nods as she continues to tease Bruce. "It does make Thursdays particularly fun.”

Bruce sets his burger down with a frown and wipes his greasy hands on cheap, thin diner napkins. 

“Oh, don’t look as mad as a wet hen,” Clark teases. “Usually, you have such a hankering for your double bacon cheeseburger. Eat up.”

“Considering the fact you both forced me to have this instead of a tuna sandwich and a salad, I expected you to eat more, Bruce.”

Bruce just gives an embarrassed and forced hum of affirmation, not liking the way it suddenly feels a bit warmer in the room when he’s forced to confront his feelings.

Diana leans forward with a conspiratorial smile, her eyes gleaming with curiosity and understanding. “So... why the Lantern?” she begins, her voice carrying a tone of genuine interest. “I understand his role as a defender and leader, his versatile nature reminiscent of Apollo's gifts,” she starts, offering a genuine compliment. “But I hadn't realized the depth of your feelings for him until now.”

“Yeah, Bruce,” Clark goads. “Not to say you’re a bad pairing. It’s just unexpected as all get out.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.” 

“You’re right. You don’t.” Clark has a shit-eating grin on his face, and Bruce just sighs.

“But?”

“But as your best friends,” Clark smiles wider, “I think we’re allowed to have an inside scoop.”

“Yes.” Diana smiles. I would love to hear more about what you think are the Lantern’s positive qualities.”

“If not us, who will you tell this sort of thing to, Bruce?” 

Diana just nods along, all too happy about her seamless cooperation with Clark. While their teamwork is admired on the field, when paired up against him like this, it’s somewhat irritating and very much (internally) flustering.

Clark has a point, though. Outside of Alfred and the kids, both of whom it’s weird to talk about relationship stuff with, who else can he talk to? 

“To sum it up,” Bruce begins, his tone measured and reserved, “he brings me joy.” There's a subtle shift in his expression, a hint of warmth in his eyes as he contemplates the man in question- one that the two other heroes would not have noticed if they weren’t so focused on him. “He occupies my thoughts frequently. I feel a sense of concern for his well-being, and he has a unique ability to provoke both frustration and amusement in me, which is a rarity.” His lips twitch almost imperceptibly, unconsciously forming the faintest of smiles. “He makes me laugh. He has proven himself adept at interacting with my children. And perhaps most importantly, I trust him implicitly.”

Diana gives an amused hum, while Clark seems a bit surprised by just how many good things Bruce has to say.

“I refuse to comment anymore.”

Clark laughs. “It’s not an interview.”

“It feels like one when I see you with glasses on.”

They all chuckle at that.

Dinner goes by smoothly afterward. They all enjoy their greasy double bacon cheeseburgers and shakes, and Bruce thoroughly washes his hands in the bathroom to rid himself of the smell on his hands.

When he exits, he sees Clark hand Diana a crisp five-dollar bill.

“What’s that for?” Bruce asks with resigned amusement, having a hunch. When faced with the two grins of his friends, it’s confirmed before Diana even answers.

“We had a bet, and Clark lost to me.” Her smile is one of satisfaction at her victory.

“A good bet to lose,” Clark interjects, his tone laced with a hint of self-deprecation.

“Indeed.” Diana agrees, her demeanor graceful yet subtly triumphant as she pockets the bill. “Thank you, Clark.”

Bruce rolls his eyes at the exchange. 

They’re lucky he loves them.

When they exit the restaurant, they’re bathed in the golden rays of the sunset, the sky awash with pastel hues, the clouds picturesquely scattered. Hal would love this.

Uncaring of how the two supers behind him likely saw his updated phone wallpaper (and are kind enough not to ask whether or not Hal is Green Lantern- though he knows they both have their hunches), he snaps a couple of photos of the sky, a concentrated furrow to his brow as he makes them as presentable as possible.

He’s no photographer like Tim, but he’s good enough to know certain tricks.

When satisfied, he quickly sends the pictures to Hal and is fully prepared to pocket his phone when the man calls. 

Bruce looks back to his two friends, who just gesture for him to take the call.

“We can wait until you’re done to say goodbye,” Diana offers.

“Don’t let them wait,” Clark chides.

Bruce just lets out a small huff of amusement before picking up.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Hal greets. “Beautiful sunset.”

‘Not as beautiful as you,’ Bruce wants to respond, but instead, he settles for, “Yes. I’m currently in Metropolis.”

“That explains the lack of smog.” He can hear the smile in Hal’s voice. 

“Yes.” Bruce’s voice is soft around the edges— a sharp contrast to the glare he sends Clark and Diana when they exaggeratedly wiggle their brows at him. Horrible, horrible people. “I’m currently in the company of others, but is there a larger reason for this call?”

“Nah, I just felt like calling you.” There’s a brief pause, like Hal is contemplating saying something, before he continues. “Your voice sounds really good over the phone.”

Bruce resists the urge to smile, though he can feel it in his cheeks. “Is that so?”

“It is, Spooks. Kinda wish I had the growl you do.” Hal’s voice turns almost impish as he adds, “I should practice.”

“Please don’t.”

“Imagine it. Me flying around space and introducing myself as the Green Lantern of Sector 2814. ” Hal’s voice drops a register at the end, and it sounds like he has a cold.

“You sound horrible.”

“I sound great. You’re just jealous I’m nailing the Batman voice better than you.”

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m incredibly sane, Bruce.” Hal deadpans, and Bruce chuckles under his breath. “Alright, alright. I’ll hang up so you can spend time with whoever you’re with.”

“Wait. Hal.”

“Yeah?”

“About our ‘fight’ the other day- about you blowing up at me,” Bruce clears his throat, slightly embarrassed to talk about this while Clark and Diana can listen in, but wanting to strike the iron while it’s hot, continues speaking. “I wanted to say sorry. You were overstimulated and overwhelmed, and I didn’t help with that. You told me it was a bad time, and I didn’t listen. I wanted to revisit it because I didn’t bring it up when we spoke in person.”

“It’s okay- I’m still sorry for blowing up–”

“But Hal, I didn’t give you the space that you explicitly asked for. Even if I was going to comfort you, I should’ve just said that we could talk later and ended the call there. It was on me, and I’m sorry.”

“...Thanks, Bruce.” He can tell that Hal wasn’t expecting the apology and is genuinely touched. “That means a lot.”

“Of course. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Saturday at thirteen hundred, I won’t forget.”

Bruce pushes through his embarrassment and calls Hal the nickname he knows will make the other happy. “Goodbye, Flyboy.”

Hal’s voice goes up a bit as he hangs up with a, “Bye, Spooky.”

Bruce finally pockets the phone and looks at Clark and Diana's incredibly amused faces, their expressions similar to the ones he sees on his kids.

“I had my doubts, Bruce, but I’m happy for you.”

“I had no doubts,” Diana opens with, referring to Clark’s slight mistrust. “I believe in the good in him, but I am happy for you as well.”

“Flyboy and Spooky, huh?” Clark knocks his elbow into Bruce’s arm, and Bruce relishes in the fact that he’s allowed to nudge back as hard as he wants without the Kryptonian really feeling it. He does. “ And good communication?”

“Shut up.”

The two supers laugh at him, to his slight chagrin. 

At the sound of their laughs, though, he allows himself to crack a small smile.

— — — 

"Master Bruce," Alfred chides gently, his tone authoritative and warm as he deftly removes the tableware from Bruce's grasp. "This is your birthday, and you shouldn't be fussing over party arrangements. Off you go now."

"Alfred—" Bruce begins to protest but is promptly interrupted.

"No buts," Alfred insists firmly. "Is Master Jordan not due to arrive shortly? Ensure he receives a proper welcome after greeting Miss Gordon, Master Queen, and Master Allen.”

“They’re here already?” Bruce’s eyes widen just a fraction in surprise. “I figured Barry would make them late.”

“It seems he’s incredibly eager to meet you, Master Bruce. Master Queen, a touch less so,” the man notes with a touch of dry humor. 

“But still eager?”

“Quite.”

“I’ll go greet them then.”

“Very good.” 

Bruce leaves the dining room and overhears Oliver and Barry in the sitting room, taking in the overall splendor of the ornate space.

“I’m starting to feel underdressed just sitting here,” Barry sighs self-consciously from his plush sofa seat. 

“I feel you, man.” Oliver agrees, his demeanor casual in comparison as he looks at a painting on the wall. “You know, I lost a bid for this Van Gogh at a charity auction. I always wondered who the anonymous winning bidder was.”

“You lost to Bruce Wayne?”

“No, I strategically pulled away. Dinah would have my ass if I spent the amount he did.”

“Yes, well, Mister Queen, you put up an admirable effort,” Bruce smiles as he enters the room, entertained by the way the two men unconsciously sit up a little straighter. “Bruce Wayne,” he introduces himself when he gets within hand-shaking distance, extending his hand to Barry first, just to fuck with Ollie.

“Ah, I’m actually Oliver Queen,” the blonde archer corrects from his side with a thin-lipped smile. “We’ve met before.”

“Ah! How silly of me. Pardon me, Mister Queen,” Bruce responds smoothly, shaking Oliver’s hand now, relishing in the two’s bewilderment. “Of course, you have the goatee that’s hard to forget- right, I remember now.” Bruce takes the chance to snarkily call out Oliver’s identity-revealing facial hair- something he’s warned the man about before while in costume.

“And, er- I’m Barry– short for Bartholomew Allen, but please call me ‘Barry,’ it’s easier that way.”

“Nice to meet you, Barry.” Bruce shakes his hand before pulling away. “It’s nice to meet Hal’s best friends. Thank you for agreeing to surprise him.”

“Of course! It’s sweet of you to have this birthday party for him, uh, sir,” Barry stumbles over his words.

“No need for formalities like that,” The richer billionaire casually waves his hand as though physically able to dismiss the other’s worry. “Just call me Bruce or Brucie, whichever you prefer.”

“Thanks,” Barry replies with a grateful smile, relieved by his reassurance. “I'll go with Bruce then, if that's alright. 'Brucie' might take some getting used to,” the speedster adds with a chuckle.

Ollie watches the two before he clears his throat, subtly indicating his growing curiosity. “So, Bruce,” Oliver begins, his tone carefully neutral but betraying a hint of curiosity, “how exactly did you and Hal become such good friends?”

"Well, Mister Queen–" 

“Oliver is fine.”

“Oliver,” Bruce tests, earning a nod of satisfaction from the man, “sometimes friendships form in the most unexpected ways. Hal and I found common ground in our shared commitment to justice and our willingness to stand up for what's right.”

“When he saved you on the cruise ship.”

“When he’s saved me,” Bruce recalls multiple instances where Hal has saved him, in and out of costume, “yes.” It’s not a total lie; he’s just not being specific.

“I see…” Oliver nods thoughtfully, stroking his goatee. “Well, I’m glad Hal has a friend like you looking out for him.”

“And I’m glad he has friends like you both, willing to come all the way to Gotham.” Bruce thinks of conversational topics. “Say, how did you all meet?”

“Uh…” Barry starts, flustered by the question. “W-Work. Yeah– work… stuff…”

"Right, work stuff," Oliver chimes in, casually nodding to Barry before turning his attention to Bruce. "You know how it is, Bruce. Sometimes, you just meet the right people at the right time in the most unexpected places. Barry and I, we've had our fair share of interesting encounters on the job."

“A job involving a billionaire, a forensic chemist, and a test pilot, huh? It sounds like an interesting story.”

“It… was, um, and I would tell you what it was if I could remember it,” The speedster adds, tripping over his words.

“You don’t remember it?” Bruce asks, his brow furrowed in confusion. Gods, these two are horrible liars. It’s a wonder they’ve kept their identities secret all this time.

“No, he, uh, has a hard time remembering things. All those chemical formulas take up his brain space.” Oliver defends before hesitantly clapping his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Say, pal, how about something to eat? What’s on the menu? I’m famished .”

At the thought of food, Barry’s stomach growls, and he gives a sheepish laugh. “Now that you mention it…”

Bruce takes the hint and stops teasing them, bringing them to the kitchen. There, he steals a small tray of foie gras for guests that Alfred won’t mind going missing.

Barry clears the tray in no time at all, and Brucie only laughs. “Alfred will be happy to hear you loved them so much.”

“Sorry about that…” Barry looks sheepish as he fights back a burp, and he apologetically grins at the two billionaires.

“Don’t be. They were gone in a flash, though.”

“Huh?”

“Hm?” Bruce plays innocent.

“Nothing.” Barry looks to Ollie, who just gives a strained laugh.

“Yeah, Bar’ here can really pack it in. Say, what time is Hal getting here again?”

“Thirteen hundred.” Bruce smiles. 

“Sheesh. We got here early then.” Oliver strokes his goatee. “Say, Bruce, how much of Make It Wayne was real?”

“Oh, gods, like almost none of it,” Brucie says in an exaggerated voice before switching back to Bruce’s neutral. “It was fabricated for viewer entertainment because more viewers meant more attention to W.E., and practically all profits went to rebuilding Gotham and charities.”

“Wait, really?” Oliver’s brows shoot up.

“Told you he was a good guy,” Barry teases the other as he knocks into his friend’s shoulder.

“Surely, you didn’t think I was that dumb- facing the wrong way in the intro.”

“Well- I—” 

Bruce relishes in the way Oliver stumbles over his words before he breaks it up with a laugh. Hal is totally missing out on this.

Still, the conversation flows much easier from there. Bruce and Oliver talk numbers— about which charities they enjoy and about Bruce’s efforts to help Gotham. The speedster is interested in finding out which news stories are true or false. 

Bruce manages to convince them that the Brucie act is a persona for attention-gathering and profit that he reimburses into clean initiatives and charities. 

He can safely say the way the two men look at him is with respect and slight awe. It’s nice to get the approval of Hal’s close friends, though he briefly wonders if this respect would stay if they knew he was Batman.

Since opening up to Hal, Clark, and Diana, he’s been wondering if it’s time to expand his social circle, trust-wise, and allow his children to do the same.

Bruce laughs politely as Barry tells a subpar joke, and the smile on Oliver’s face lets him know that the man is grateful for the polite treatment of his friend.

He thinks he’ll be alright- trust-wise. If Hal can trust them, there’s a reason. Barry has defended both Batman and Brucie even when he thinks he’s out of earshot, and he knows enough about Oliver and his soft spot for charities, humanitarian work, and his  philanthropic efforts- which they mostly have in common- to bond with the man over.

When the two heroes go to mingle with his children, who are setting up decorations, such as banners, balloons, and the like, it only gets easier. The kids seem to enjoy teasing the heroes as much as Bruce did, making tiny jokes at the expense of the older two’s identities.

Bruce is showered with many happy birthday wishes, and upon seeing Oliver and Barry's panicked faces, he realizes the two thought they were only celebrating Hal’s birthday today.

“It’s a bit early for a drink, but it looks like you two need it,” Bruce hands them flutes of champagne. “I assume you didn’t know this was a joint birthday party, but don’t worry. Your company is more than present enough. Getting to know the people Hal trusts better is all I could wish for.”

“You’re a good man, Bruce,” Oliver takes the glass without much hesitation.

“Thank you, Bruce.” Barry offers a weak smile as he takes the glass. “No wonder Hal couldn’t stop talking about your birthday. I didn’t know it was before his own.”

“Oh, right, good ol’ Hal was all stressed about getting you a gift. I’m sure he figured it out, though.” Oliver casually shrugs.

“Yes, well, it’s Hal.” Bruce allows a more genuine smile to grace his face for a second. “He can do anything he puts his mind to. I admire that about him.”

“Say, Bruce,” Oliver starts, “asking as his friend, what are your intentions with Hal?”

Barry looks at Bruce, obviously interested in the billionaire’s answer.

Bruce’s eyebrows raise, and he tugs at the collar of his black turtleneck with his finger as he clears his throat. “Well, I— to make him happy, of course.”

The two men nod in approval, and Barry’s about to open his mouth and say more when the doorbell rings.

“Ah, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me. I should go and greet the guest of honor.” Bruce politely excuses himself and speeds away to the front of the manor.

It would be no good for those two to figure out Bruce’s crush on Hal before the man himself does. That would just be embarrassing, and knowing Oliver, he’ll try to push the two together in a way that would fluster both men to the point of avoidance— the exact opposite of what he needs. No, thank you.

Passing by a mirror on the wall, Bruce hastily checks his hair and practices a small smile before getting to the door.

It’s time for a birthday party.

Chapter Text

As Hal stands in front of the manor doors, he tries to convince himself that he’s only anxious, not afraid.

It’s just like every Saturday he spends at the Manor for brunch, but this time, it’s for his and Bruce’s shared birthday- and he doesn’t know if Bruce will see the vision of his gift, and he’s since realized he loves the man. 

It’s a lot.

Once again, a good amount has happened in the past week. Hal’s life feels so much richer and fuller since meeting Bruce. 

With flowers in one hand and a black gift bag in the other, Hal nervously shifts his weight from foot to foot when the door opens.

Bruce.

“Hey, Spooky.” Hal smiles, hoping to hide his nerves well. His heart feels like it is about to race out of his chest as he hands Bruce the bouquet. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Flyboy,” Bruce greets back, a smile on his face too. “Happy early birthday.”

Hal smiles wider, and he hopes it’s a charming one as he steps into the manor.

“They’re gorgeous flowers.” Bruce gives him a smile he can’t quite decipher. ” Twelve red roses?”

“Gorgeous flowers for a gorgeous person,” Hal flirts on instinct, and he mentally kicks himself for how cheesy it is. “It was sold by the bundle, so I chose the twelve.”

“Hm.” That hum sounds pleased, yet oddly disappointed.

Do twelve red roses mean something?

Luckily, or unluckily, Alfred takes this time to come in before the pilot has the chance to ask.

“Alfred, hey,” Hal faintly nods at the older man who takes the flowers from Bruce. “A beautiful and meaningful choice of flowers, Master Jordan. I shall put them in water in Master Bruce’s study.”

“Thanks,” both Hal and Bruce say at the same time. That’s a little funny to him. It’s nice to feel in sync with the man he likes.

“As for the gift bag…?” Alfred starts, brow quizically raised.

“The Batcave, please,” comes Bruce’s reply. “Away from the children who will probably want to take a peek inside,” he explains with a warm fondness.

Hal finds Bruce’s paternalism so attractive. He wants to kiss the man, but instead, all he says is, “Yeah, no, that makes sense. Sounds great.” The pilot gives an awkward thumbs-up, much to the other two’s amusement.

He shuts the door behind him.

Once he goes deeper into the manor, Hal hears the kids before he sees them.

“Yo, Dickie, do we have any extra helium from the balloons?” He hears Jason’s smug voice, something that only comes up when he’s about to make a bad decision.

“Yeah, why?”

“I wanna do my Batman impression on helium.”

“That’s dumb,” Duke comments, voice far too fond actually to think of it as a bad idea.

“Why?” is Cass’s contribution.

“Because it’s funny! Imagine,” Stephanie’s voice goes up into a shrill, grating squeak, “‘I am vengeance,’ said super high pitched?”

Damian clicks his tongue in disapproval. “That was horrible, Brown.”

“For once,” Tim starts, “I agree with Damian.”

“Boys,” a female voice Hal has never heard before speaks up, “ and Stephanie, settle down, please.”

“You never call out Cass,” Dick chuckles.

“She doesn’t deserve to be called out,” comes the breezy reply.

Damian clicks his tongue. “That is blatant favoritism.”

“I won’t deny it.”

“Hey, kids-who-aren’t-kids,” Hal calls out with a smile when he comes into the room with Bruce. He’s immediately met with a variation of greetings and early birthday wishes. 

“I’m Hal Jordan. And you are…?” Hal asks the unfamiliar face in the room.

“I'm Barbara Gordon,” declares the woman with ginger hair, seated confidently in her wheelchair. Her smile is warm, yet there's a commanding presence about her. As she speaks, her voice resonates with authority, and her eyes— alive with intelligence— sparkle with understanding. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Hal. I’ve been following your extracurricular work for a while.”

“Oh— uh,” Hal’s a bit flustered by the greeting, his heart dropping in his chest before he remembers that this woman is someone that Bruce obviously trusts. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Of course, this mysterious woman knows his identity as a Lantern. He had thought he’d gotten used to how jarring it felt to be so known after that batkids, but alas.

Seriously, what is the point of that tiny mask he wears at this point? Is it even doing him any good?

“Oh, my dearest, Hal!~” comes a familiar sing-song voice. His favorite archer comes into view, a speedster following right behind him.

No fucking way.

“No fucking way,” he says aloud, mirroring his thoughts.

His friends just laugh.

“Did you miss us that much, baby?” Ollie slings an arm over Hal’s shoulders, and Barry knocks into his side.

He almost misses Bruce’s disgruntled look as Jason raises a brow at his father. 

He must be reading Bruce wrong, but some part of him hopes that he’s not— hopes that the billionaire really is feeling somewhat jealous and grumpy because of Ollie’s loose affections.

“Hell yeah, I missed you guys,” Hal smiles as he claps hands with Barry and pulls him into a hug, Oliver still hanging off his shoulder. This is nice, but “What the hell are you two doing here?”

“Celebrating you, of course,” Barry chuckles, quickly looking over his shoulder. “And meeting Bruce. He really is a nice guy, huh?”

“And close to you,” Ollie teases. “Seriously, man, I’m surprised at how his kids greeted you. It’s like you’re part of the family already.”

Hal gives an embarrassed chuckle. “I wish.”

“Then it’ll come true.” Oliver claps his back before pulling away. “You’ve just gotta blow out a candle to make it so.”

“Never took you for the superstitious type,” Barry amusedly comments.

“In this line of work, you’ve gotta be at least a little.”

Surrounded by his friends and newfound family, Hal feels a sense of warmth growing in his chest.

He locks eyes with Bruce across the room and sends the man a grateful smile. 

Hal’s heart flutters and soars as Bruce smiles back, and the pilot needs to fight back the urge to grin with giddiness maniacally.

The party continues, and it’s chaotic but fun, as all things with the Wayne family and a bunch of heroes are wont to do.

“There’s an apple cider and mocktail bar,” Brucie introduces to the group with a charming smile.

“Nothing harder?” Ollie asks, all too eager to get drunk and really party. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about a drunk Brucie Wayne– you seem like a good time.”

Bruce gives a polite laugh. “I’m more than satisfied with a ginger ale, and there’s no alcohol around the kids— not after what happened at the last party.”

“Last party?” Barry asks as the group walks over to the bar area Bruce has in the great hall. 

“Well, I’d tell you all about it, but I signed a NDA.” 

“Serious?” Hal asks.

“Deadly,” Bruce replies in a flat voice, almost reminiscent of Batman, before chuckling. “So, a Shirley Temple, anyone?”

Oliver, feeling a bit out of his element at the party and unsure of what to do besides having a drink, picks up a mocktail with mild surprise. With a casual shrug and an easygoing tone, he suggests, "Hey, how about a card game? Anyone up for a little wager? Wayne, you feeling lucky?" 

“Oh?” Bruce’s voice has a familiar tinge of competitiveness and eagerness, “I think I’ve got some birthday luck.”

Hal chimes in with, “I’ve got some of that early birthday luck.”

“I’ve been told I have general good luck,” Barry tells the group, much to their amusement.

Oliver openly shakes his head at him. “As if, Bar’.”

Bruce absolutely dominates all the games, only losing on purpose once for Hal, just to make him feel better. Hal wouldn’t have known if not for the conveniently good hand and sudden showing of Bruce’s tells, which he had been conveniently hiding until then.

Hal knocks into his side from beside him, and Bruce just huffs an amused chuckle.

“Couldn’t win all the games,” he tells Hal under his breath. “Ollie would throw a fit otherwise.”

“Would he have a valid reason to throw a fit?”

“Are you accusing me of cheating, Flyboy? I’m more than skilled enough to beat you all without.”

“Skilled enough even without utilizing math to calculate the probabilities of which card each person has and is likely to play next?”

“Well…”  

They both chuckle as Oliver whines to Barry about losing another hundred.

What Oliver really has fun with, though, is the Batman piñata.

“No fucking way…” Ollie remarks with giddy glee as he stares at the piñata hanging from a ceiling hook in the center of the party room. 

“I feel like it would be wrong even to hit it…” Barry, on the other hand, exhibits slight hesitance at the thought of taking a swing at it, but after Ollie’s incessant pestering finally gives in. “Alright, alright. Let’s see people take a hit at the Dark Knight.”

Hal just looks amused, his gaze switching between his friends as he tries to guess who the hell would order a piñata like that. When he meets Bruce’s eyes, it’s obvious that the amusement is dancing in them. It’s a lighthearted, self-deprecating gesture.

“A Batman piñata?”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have a blast with one of yourself.”

“One of me would be too handsome to hit.”

“ Sure , Hal.”

“Why’d you say it like that!?”

“Say what, like what ?”

“You’re infuriating.”

“You would know.”

Hal exaggeratedly rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it.

Excitement similar to Bruce’s is seen on all of the batkid’s faces, though mainly for different reasons. Dick is just excited there’s a piñata, Cass is excited to partake in the festivities, Jason is stretching his arms like he’s got a personal score to settle, Stephanie also looks like she’s got a grudge but in a “happier” way- that’s the best way Hal can describe it, Tim looks excited because everyone else is excited, Duke is itching for the sweets inside judging by the way he’s asked Alfred what their prize is, and Damian is eager to hit something as hard as he can. Barbara, though Hal hardly knows her, looks almost like she’s calculating the best spots to hit.

The piñata is a life-size replica of Batman because, of course, it is– the Wayne family is stinking rich, and it’s funny as all hell. It has all the details perfectly matched, and if it weren’t for the obvious texture of papier-mâché on the outside, it could almost be mistaken for the real thing.

“Having money is a terrifying thing,” Hal comments to Alfred, who stands beside him, the man looking up at the piñata with silent pride.

“Indeed, Master Jordan. Though I must admit, the piñata cost me next to nothing when made from scratch.”

“You made this!?” Hal’s loud exclamation is enough to draw the attention of his two friends, who immediately express their appreciation for the work.

“I’ve made it to withstand copious amounts of brute force so that nearly everyone may have a turn to swing.”

“How?” Barry tilts his head quizzically to the side, almost like a confused puppy.

Alfred leans in almost conspiratorially. “With duct tape, fiberglass cloth, and resin.”

Ollie lets out a low whistle of appreciation.

“Let’s take a photo with the piñata.” Bruce comes up to them, a charming Brucie smile on his face.

Hal just chuckles. If only Oliver and Barry knew why this whole thing was so funny. “Sure thing, gorgeous. I’d never refuse a photo with you.”

He doesn’t miss the way Oliver turns to Barry and mouths a surprised ‘ Gorgeous ?’

His cheeks flush slightly, but the pride of being able to call Bruce that far outweighs any embarrassment he’ll feel from his friends’ teasing later.

Using Bruce’s phone, they all take a photo by the piñata, and judging by Oliver’s shit-eating grin; the archer can’t wait to tell Batman about his weekend when he sees the man (again). Bruce sends the photo to Hal, who sends it to his friends.

Hal makes the photo his home screen, while the picture of him with Bruce and the kids stays on his lock screen. 

His heart swells.

This is the most lively birthday he’s had in years. Usually, he just spends the day missing his family and then drinks with Barry and Oliver at night if they’re free.

This is nice, being surrounded by people who love him. He needs to fight the feeling of wrongness of waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s doing his best just to feel loved. 

When Bruce hands him the bat to hit the piñata, it feels easy. 

Blindfolded by Bruce, Hal resists the urge to shiver as he feels the man come to stand behind him, his breath tickling the back of his head as deft fingers tie a blindfold around his head.

It’s intimate. Far too intimate for what they are.

“Too tight?” Bruce asks, his voice tickling Hal’s ear. 

“No, uh…” Hal feels heat beginning to rush to his cheeks. “It’s good.”

Bruce gives a contemplative hum before taking a step back. “Good luck then, Flyboy.” The man unexpectedly claps his hand on Hal’s right bicep and gives it a squeeze.

Hal bites back a groan of surprise and just gives an awkward nod. “Time to show this piñata who’s boss!”

“Attaboy.”

Bruce properly steps away this time as Hal begins to spin himself in place, the praise bouncing around in his head.

Hitting the piñata was a blur. He remembers missing more than hitting, but hitting pretty hard. 

The piñata doesn’t break on his turn, nor does it break on Bruce’s, Ollie’s, Barry’s, or any of the kids’. Ultimately, it’s Barbara who ends up destroying the piñata on her fourth turn, a triumphant whoop coming from her as she flexes from her chair, a proud Dick ruffling her hair to her annoyance as everyone around them scrambles to pick up the prize… candy, and bundles of cash. 

Hal, not immune to the cash prize, competitively collects enough to help pay his rent for the month. Seriously, who the hell puts bundles of tens in a piñata?

“You didn’t put cash in there just to help me out, did you?” He asks Bruce at one point, pride slightly wounded by how eagerly he was grabbing that cash.

“Alfred made the piñata,” the man deflects, not giving him a straight answer. “Just consider this a good birthday for us. The kids collected enough for a few weeks worth of allowance too.”

Barry, not so discreetly using some super speed, collected the most.

The next phase of the party, the main event, is the food. Alfred’s cooking, combined with food from the kosher Chinese restaurant Hal likes, made this whole thing perfect— beyond perfect, even.

The vegetarian mapo tofu, dan dan noodles, and veal xiao long bao are so good (as always). 

Alfred’s cooking is, of course, no joke either. He’s made mulligatawny soup, malai kofta, jeera rice, palak paneer, and murgh makhani. 

Chinese food and Indian food, Hal and Bruce’s favorites, respectively.

“Oh, man- this is hitting the spot! Alfred, is there anything you can’t do?” Ollie praises.

"Seriously, you're a culinary genius. I can't get enough of this," Barry exclaims with a wide grin, his words slightly rushed with excitement.

Throughout the meal, though, Hal silently wonders when they’ll give gifts. Seated beside him, Bruce, as though reading his mind, gently smiles and knocks his knee against the side of his leg.

“I’d like to give you your gift in private without being scrutinized by everyone, if that’s alright.” Bruce wipes his mouth with a napkin, effectively hiding his lips as he speaks from the curious eyes of others. “After the party, perhaps?”

In private… So just the two of them?

Hal feels his pulse pick up speed as he nods.

“Sounds good, Spooky. I bet you’ll be real surprised.”

“Oh, will I now?” The man replies with what Hal perceives as a flirty tone.

He wishes someone could tell him if Bruce is flirting or not because, holy cow, is it confusing!

“Yes, you will.” Hal breezily replies with a smile, not giving away his inner turmoil.

He feels Bruce's knee nudge against his leg once more as though rebuking him for his cockiness. Hal nudges his leg right back.

Opening up a fortune cookie, Hal prepares himself for his usual mediocre fortune when he sees something that stops him in his tracks.

Your love life will soon be happy and harmonious.

Pfft, as if. Hal looks up from the slip of paper and meets Bruce’s eyes for the nth time today.

“Did you get a good fortune, Hal?”

“Uh… yeah.” Hal quickly pockets it. “Something about friendships and all that— you know, vague stuff.”

Bruce’s brows raise in intrigue as he lets out a small hum. “Interesting.” The raven haired man reaches over for a fortune cookie himself, staring hard at his fortune.

“What’s yours say?” Hal resists the urge to look over and take a peek.

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” Bruce replies, sounding somewhat contemplative and sentimental as he looks up at Hal, his eye contact intense. 

“A single step?” Hal breaks eye contact. “Is there something in mind you want?”

“Yes,” comes the reply, without any follow-up or explanation. Bruce continues to take him in, and Hal feels himself begin to flush under the attention. 

Why is Bruce staring at him like this?

Seriously, since realizing his crush on Bruce it feels like he’s blushing every five minutes with the man.

Hal, embarrassed, clears his throat. “So, uh, any cake?”

“Chantilly cake and vegan chocolate pudding cake. Pick your poison.”

“Vegan chocolate?” Hal offers. 

“Good choice. It’s Damian’s favorite.” 

Hal feels a surge of pride at having chosen something that Bruce and Damian approve of. “That’s good to know.”

“Did you know that pudding was originally invented to include meat within the dish?”

Hal grimaces, imagining sausages in chocolate pudding. “Bruce, baby, I love your fun facts, but that is disgusting to imagine.”

Bruce makes a slight sound of surprise that evolves into an exhaled, breathy chuckle. “Usually, I’m the one calling people ‘baby’ as Brucie. It’s a bit strange being on the other end.”

“In a bad way?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then I’ll keep that in mind,” Hal not so subtly looks Bruce up and down before smiling to himself. Who else knows Bruce in the way Hal knows him and gets away with calling him “babe” or “gorgeous” or “Spooky”? It’s hard not to feel a little smug about it.

“Like what you see?”

“Hard not to when the view's this good.”

“Flatterer.”

“Truther, and you know it, gorgeous.”

Bruce just gives a satisfied hum; his eyes half-lidded as he takes in the sight of Hal once more.

Okay, so they’re definitely flirting, but is it like the friend-flirting he does with Ollie, or…?

Before he can think too hard about it, Alfred rolls out a cart with the cakes. The chantilly cake looks gorgeous and light, with white frosting covering the inside, which Hal knows is full of berries, while the vegan chocolate pudding cake looks rich and heavy. 

He’s never been a big cake fan, but knowing Alfred’s record, he knows they’ll taste great.

Bruce’s family and Hal’s friends stand around them while Bruce and Hal have their respective cakes placed in front of them.

“Wait, there’s an extra candle on mine,” Hal looks at Bruce with an amused smile, knowing that the man isn’t the type to get something like this wrong.

“And on mine too– one more for next year, to ensure that we make it through the year safely.”

“Are all heroes superstitious?” Hal leans closer to Bruce and whispers his question.

“Knowing what we do, it’s hard not to be.”

Hal gives a hum of amusement before he plasters on an awkward grin as everyone begins to sing Happy Birthday. Seriously, what are you supposed to do while people sing to you? He feels very loved but awkward— something he very rarely feels as a relatively shameless guy.

Before they blow out the candles, Tim makes everyone take a family photo, and Hal’s heart warms when he gets a physical copy of it to frame at home.

That’s the best birthday gift he could get from the kids and Bruce.

When he blows out his candle, he wishes for his fortune to come true.

Hours later, the party wraps up, and it’s time for the gift exchange Hal has been waiting for.

Bruce and Hal go down to the Batcave after everyone has dispersed and the pilot is presented with a clothing box- one of high quality with a rich green ribbon wrapped around it.

“I’m sure you’re tired of hearing it, but happy birthday, Hal.”

“What about your gift?”

“Given the expectations you've set, perhaps it's wiser to save the best for last.”

Hal feels eager anticipation running through his veins as he unties the ribbon and opens the box, finding a small box, folded clothing, and a small envelope inside.

Courtesy states that you open the envelopes first. The back of the envelope is signed by the stylist, so Hal knows it’s from them.

“Is this…?”

“It appears they appreciated your presence enough to leave a birthday message. I haven't read it yet.”

Hal opens it with slight curiosity and is befuddled.

“Happy Birthday, Mister Jordan. I envy your ten-year-long romantic relationship with Bruce. May your evening date be romantic… ?”

“What?”

“Say, Spooky, have we been in a relationship, and I didn’t know, or am I missing something here?”

“I'm also uncertain as to why they would make that assumption.”

“Cool… Cool… so… uh…” Hal gives a nervous chuckle, feeling his armpits sweat. “ Crazy .”

Bruce gives a single, uncomfortable chuckle back before clearing his throat. “Let’s set that aside for the moment so you can see your actual gift.”

“Right, right.” Hal puts the card to the side before taking out the clothes first, jaw-dropping when he realizes what Bruce has gotten him. “Another suit? Bruce– this is too much.”

Bruce’s voice is firm yet sincere, with a slight softness that conveys the sentiment, "Nothing is too much for you, Hal. Besides, you’ll make it look good.”

Hal notices the way Bruce compliments him in a way that emphasizes how he’ll make the suit look, not the other way around. It’s something small, but it flusters him anyway.

“Yeah?” Hal goes for a lighthearted, “So you’ve imagined me in it, then?”

“Hm…” Bruce pauses for a few seconds before smirking. “ Now I have.”

Hal’s heart skips a beat. He’s not used to flirting with men, really, and it coming from Bruce Wayne, of all people, just isn’t fair to his poor heart.

He gulps. 

“Well, uh, gorgeous- you’ve gotta take me out in it sometime.”

“Alright, then.” Bruce’s smile widens. “It’s a date.”

“Um—” Hal’s brain short circuits. “Yeah.”

Guardians above, is Bruce talking about this platonically or not!? He wishes his ring could translate intentions for him because he really hopes he isn’t making a fool out of himself for having his hopes up just a smidge.

Hal admires the sleek design of the suit and imagines himself in it. He has to admit he thinks he’ll look good in it.

“A green tie…”

“A show of trust,” Bruce explains. “And a compromise. It’s not a green suit or anything big and flashy, so I figured it’d be subtle enough that you could—” 

The billionaire begins to trail off, so Hal cuts him off with a “Thank you, Bruce.” He hopes the smile he offers in return exhibits a semblance of the love and overwhelming warmth he feels for the man.

Bruce’s smile becomes a bit shy as he nods. “There’s one more part to your present.”

Hal folds the suit back up and pulls out the small jewelry box with interest, slowly opening it up to reveal.

“Cuff links?” He holds them up to the light and notices the faint green shimmer. “These are gorgeous. Where did you get them?”

“I made them.”

Hal’s head whips over to look at the man. “No fucking way.”

Bruce lets out an amused exhale through his nose.

“Bruce, Bruce , gorgeous, are you for real?” Hal examines them even more. “These are incredible. How did you…?”

“Metal, boracic powder, isopropyl alcohol, and a GRS third-hand clamp.” Bruce goes on to explain the entire soldering process in more depth, and Hal’s eyes are slightly lidded with dazed affection as the man drones on.

“Bruce… baby, you’ve never sounded sexier.”

“Maybe I should start giving lectures more often.”

“Only if they’re ones like this,” Hal jokes. “Now I feel silly with my gift…”

“I said to surprise me, didn’t I?”

“Well, you’ll be surprised, but my gift seems so thoughtful that I feel a little bad about yours.”

“Hal,” Bruce reaches over to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Anything from you would be treasured beyond measure, you know that.”

Hal hesitantly grabs the black gift bag that Alfred left down here and hands it to Bruce, his palms sweaty as the man takes out his gift.

It’s a small T-Rex bobblehead mounted on a stand, a tiny cowboy hat from the craft store glue gunned onto its head.

“It uh- roars when you press a button.” Hal reaches over and presses a button at the base of the stand, and an exaggerated dinosaur roar echoes in the Batcave.

Bruce sits, quiet for a bit before he laughs under his breath, a quiet mirth in his eyes.

“You said you wanted a dinosaur in your room. Surprised?”

“Thoroughly. They’re a gorgeous creature.” Bruce smiles down at the gift with wonderment. “I’ll admit, I was expecting something simple or golf-related.”

“No fucking way.” Hal crossed off the golf-related gift idea so many times, but would it have actually been a really good gift!? “You’re good at golf? I would’ve assumed Brucie totally sucked at it.”

Bruce raises a brow. “Hal, I’m good enough at golf that I can decide when I win and when I lose.”

“Fuck me, gorgeous. You’re serious?” Hal looks back down at the dinosaur bobblehead. 

“It’s okay, Hal. I appreciate this guy way more than anything golf-related you could have gotten me.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Bruce turns the bobblehead in his hand, bobbling it for good measure and laughing at its absurdity. “I’m thoroughly surprised. How do you even come up with something like this?”

“There was a lot of desperation, multiple phone calls asking for advice, and a good amount of booze,” Hal smiles. “Pretty good gift?”

“A very good gift.” When Bruce smiles, looking down at the bobblehead with such affection, Hal feels an overwhelming desire for it to be directed towards him.

He wants it.

He needs it.

As Kilowog once said: Fear stands for False Evidence Appearing Real. If all it takes is one step…

“Look, Spooky,” Hal starts, speaking before he can really process what he’s doing, “I’m not gonna dance around this. I’ve almost died in space enough times to go after things without regret- and maybe mentioning my close calls with death isn’t ideal right now, but I really wanna kiss you right now.” Hal leans in closer to Bruce and cups the man’s scarred cheek, thumb brushing over the scar from the cruise. “And I think you want to kiss me too.”

“Hal.”

“I’m the smartest person in the league, remember? I don’t think I’m reading you wrong, so—”

“Second.”

“Huh?”

“Second smartest.” 

He catalogs everything about the moment– how Bruce leans in first, the way his eyes flutter shut, the cold of the Batcave in his civilian clothing, the weight of Bruce’s calloused hand on his cheek, the smell of Bruce– woody and slightly smelling of his aftershave, and the feel of the man’s soft lips against his own, their kiss chaste and so, so, so full of yearning and intent and love– and, oh !

Bruce loves him.

Hal’s heart feels tight as he leans into the kiss, a soft grunt falling from his lips as Bruce lightly grazes his bottom lip with his teeth as a warning. Oh, of course, even in a chaste kiss, Bruce Wayne is a good kisser.

Bruce’s lips are warm, and the kiss tastes slightly of cake frosting.

When they eventually pull back, Hal still feels like he’s in a floaty haze as he looks at Bruce, and it’s so obvious now; the love in his eyes. “You’re a dick, you know that? Insulting my intelligence right before we kiss.”

Bruce gives a hum of acknowledgment before he slowly leans in once more.

Hal closes his eyes again and leans in first, this time. He can only focus on the warmth of Bruce’s lips— again, and again, and again.

Now that he’s tasted Bruce, he can’t stop—he never wants to stop, not when Bruce lets out a low hum of contentment as they kiss, when he brings his hand up to Hal’s cheek and lazily draws circles into the skin, and when he holds Hal close like he’s something to be cherished.

“Is that amenable?”

“I dunno… I might need another.”

“You’re insatiable, Hal.”

“For you, gorgeous? Always.”

They chuckle and smile wide into the next kiss. It’s not as “good” as the others because they’re both smiling, and their teeth kinda knock into each other, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

It feels perfect.

When they finally draw back, they can find all the answers they need in the other’s gaze.

“Good?” 

“Perfect.”

“Thanks for the glowing review.”

“Happy to provide,” Hal replies before he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. 

It’s time.

Turning the alarm off, Hal pulls away before taking Bruce’s hand in his own. “There’s one more part of the gift if you wouldn’t mind. I promised I’d take you flying, didn't I?”

Minutes later, they find themselves flying over the smog and clouds of Gotham, the cold, whipping wind blocking out the city's usual smell as they fly, Bruce bridal carried in Hal’s arms.

The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange as if carefully blended together on a celestial canvas. Wisps of clouds catch the vibrant colors; their edges tinged with golden light as the couple flies above it all. 

The golden light catches the blue of Bruce’s eyes, the shine of his hair, and the glow of his skin as Hal looks down at him, and he can’t help but lean in for another kiss.

This one is like fireworks, like ripples in his soul, and Hal can only feel a rush- an overwhelming sense of “ wow .” It just feels right, and he’s filled with a sense of satisfaction at knowing this; the kiss is the expression of that feeling.

When Hal pulls away, he feels Bruce chase his lips for a second more before the man begins to speak. “Did you know that kissing was invented with the intent of inhaling the other’s soul?”

“No.” Hal smiles down at Bruce, feeling waves of love crash against him. Of course, Bruce is the type of person to introduce trivia after kissing. “Tell me more, beautiful.”

As Bruce continues to explain random facts about kissing, Hal realizes something.

Loving someone and being loved back is a miracle.

And in that moment, amidst the exchange of kisses and trivia, Hal knew that being loved by Bruce was the greatest miracle of all.

Chapter Text

What Hal expects upon waking up on his birthday in Wayne Manor's guest bedroom is a lazy morning, preferably awoken with a kiss by his now partner , Bruce Wayne.

Instead, he’s greeted with a tentative knock at his door and the sound of the man clearing his throat, patiently waiting like a true gentleman. 

That’s a bit of a shame. 

Hal wouldn’t have minded a little more boldness, but he supposes this awkwardness is just like Bruce. 

“Come in, Spooks.” Hal chuckles, running a hand through his hair to fix its mussed appearance, his morning voice making his voice a few tones deeper than usual.

Bruce enters quietly, as if not wanting to alert the kids to where he is in the manor (though Hal has a feeling that they knew things would end up this way before he did). 

“Morning, gorgeous.” Hal greets Bruce, admiring how he looks in his comfort wear, a large gray I ♥︎ Gotham shirt stretched out against his large frame.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” Bruce sits at the edge of the guest room bed, only coming closer when Hal pats the spot right next to him.

“Come closer, babe. I don’t bite.” Hal smiles when the bed dips under Bruce’s weight by his head. “Unless you want me to.”

Bruce just scoffs and rolls his eyes, but the pilot can detect the ghost of a smile that plays upon the man’s lips.

“You’re far too energetic this morning. It’s not even seven.”

“Yet here you are, in my room. That’s not very proper, Spooks.”

“Well, I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday.” His eyes rake down Hal’s blanket-covered form in a way that makes the Lantern’s cheeks flush. “And besides,” Bruce leans in closer, “I don’t think you want me to be that much of a gentleman.”

“What makes you say that?”

Hal gasps when Bruce gently takes his chin in his hand, tilting it upwards. 

“You seemed a bit disappointed when I didn’t immediately greet you with a kiss, no?” The billionaire’s blue eyes are enchanting. “Allow me to rectify that.”

Hal smiles into their kiss, eyes fluttering shut at the rough but still chaste press of Bruce’s lips.

“Best birthday already,” Hal says when they finally pull away.

“I’ll need to teach you to raise your standards then.”

“Nah.” Hal forcefully tugs Bruce down onto the bed, the man only falling because he allows himself to, and the pilot immediately seizes his chance to rest his head in the crook of Bruce’s neck. “I’m perfectly fine with this.”

Bruce lets out an amused huff of air through his nose, effectively tickling the top of Hal’s head with it.

“What am I going to do with you?” 

“Be happy, hopefully,” Hal supplies.

Hal feels rather than sees Bruce's smile in his actions: the gentle touch of the man’s large hands carding through his brown hair.

“I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to do this with you now.” Bruce brushes back Hal’s hair, only a bit hesitant- the newness of their relationship making them both nervous, Hal supposes.

“You say you’re lucky now,” he feels a twinge of insecurity in his chest, “but wait till you deal with my outer space missions. It’s not easy loving me.”

It’s more than just outer space missions.

Hal knows this.

It’s the fucked relationships he has with his siblings, the avoidant attachment, the disconnect he feels from things most days, the depression, the loneliness, the self-deprecation that’ll just become annoying to Bruce at some point, the—

“Hey, look at me,” comes Bruce’s gentle yet firm command. When Hal slowly tilts his head up, the breath is punched out of his lungs as the man looks at him like he’s everything good in the world. “I don’t want easy; I want us. I’d be a fool if I didn’t want you completely- the good and the bad.”

“There’s been a lot of bad, Spooks,” Hal jokes with a half-assed smile, which quickly fades into a frown.

He’s trying to push Bruce away again, isn’t he? Luckily, as Bruce leans closer, it seems the man doesn’t mind. He just comes in with gentle reassurance: exactly what Hal needs.

“The past is important; it's shaped who you are. You don't need to forget or ignore it. But you can't let it consume you. You need to remember and learn from the past, but not get stuck in the past.” Bruce brings his hand down to cup Hal’s jaw, sweeping his thumb over his cheek. “I don’t care if it’s hard to love you sometimes- that won’t stop me from loving you one hundred percent. Nothing is ever easy. Hell, there isn't a damn thing about love that's easy- there's always a struggle of some kind, no matter with who or about what. But I would rather be with you, struggle and all, than be with anyone else in the damn world. When I say that I'm willing to love you, I mean that there isn't anything that can stop me.”

Hal sits in the confession, knowing he’s deeply loved yet afraid of it when his unbidden words fall from his lips. "You undo me, you know that?" he whispered, his voice rough with a raw combination of emotions and desire. "Every time I think I can keep it together, you just... look at me, and everything falls apart."

There’s a beat of silence.

“I love you,” Bruce says it like it’s the most simple and obvious statement in the world— a fact that doesn’t even need to be acknowledged in his mind.

It clicks for Hal that they hadn’t even said those words the night before and that this is the first time he’s hearing them from the other.

“I—,” The words are caught in his throat. For some reason, the next two words won’t form.

Bruce merely shushes him before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“I know.” Bruce squeezes him closer. “Just tell me when you’re ready, one day. There’s no rush.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

Hal does. He does- he really does. That’s why he allows himself to rest further against Bruce’s body, focusing on the gentle touch that rides him through his insecurities.

“You know,” Hal starts, finger tracing Bruce’s exposed collarbone, “Bar’ once told me that love isn't about the what-ifs of the future, but who I want to face those what-ifs with.”

Hal reaches over for Bruce’s hand and intertwines their fingers.

“It’s you. The answer for me is you.”

Bruce squeezes his hand in response. “You’re my answer, too.”

—

When they finally come down for breakfast, some of the kids look between Hal and Bruce with, quite frankly, shit-eating grins. 

Jason raises his eyebrows and smiles wider.

Really shit-eating grins.

They know, don’t they? Damn family of detectives.

“Soooo,” Stephanie starts, excitedly drumming her hands on the table. “Halio!” 

She and the others focus their attention on the Californian.

Steph props her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands. “Tell us about how yesterday went.”

“Uh, it was good.” Hal feigns innocence. Of course they would go for him. Bruce wouldn’t give them shit to go off of.

“Okay, okay, I can work with good.” Steph smiles before Duke chimes in conspiratorially.

“But like, how good, man?”

The two snicker to themselves as Hal feels himself begin to sweat under their combined pressure. 

“It was real good. You guys made yesterday great.” Hal smiles, not exactly wanting the kids to be privy to everything about his romantic life.

“You are Father’s romantic partner now,” Damian states, arms crossed. His eyes scan Hal briefly before he breaks eye contact, seemingly satisfied with what he’s found. 

“Uh, well, yes, but, uh…” Hal feels some heat rise in his cheeks before he turns to Bruce. “Babe, help me out here.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly,” Bruce not-so-politely replies, feeding him to the sharks. The sharks being his info-hungry children. 

“‘Babe,’ huh?” Jason teases them both, stabbing into a hot link with his fork before pointing it at them, waving it around as he speaks. “I’m assuming yesterday was sappy as shit.”

“Aw,” Dick coos. “He says it like he’s disgusted, but one of his favorite movies is not-so-secretly Pride and Prejudice 2005.”

“Matthew MacFayden’s walk scene alone is worth a movie, thank you very much.”

“Hey,” the Havener just raises his hands in mock surrender. “I never said it was a bad thing. I love that movie.”

“Brothers are distracted.” Cass shakes her head in disapproval. “What happened after the party?”

“Oooh! Cass is asking the real questions,” Steph smiles and shakes Cass’s shoulders in excitement. “Do tell.”

Hal doesn’t know what to say. There’s no manual for telling your partner’s children that you’re dating their father now, especially when they knew you beforehand. “Well… we’re a thing now.” 

Damian groans. “We are all aware that your intentions with Father were not fully platonic. This is where you swear your loyalty to him and the family and promise not to hurt him lest you face our wrath.”

“Damian,” Bruce interjects, “I appreciate the concern, but Hal doesn’t need to do anything he wouldn’t like.”

“No, no, it’s fine, Spooks.” Hal metaphorically steps up to the plate. “I solemnly swear my loyalty to Bruce and you all. You guys get special privileges from being my favorites, which are not limited to flying, space trips with permission from your old man here, and games of catch at the park or whatever most people do with kids.”

This gets nods of approval throughout the breakfast table.

“Very well then, Jordan,” Damian gives him a grin, his arms crossed over each other in a completely serious manner. “As such, you are now family.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh . I hope you recognize this monumental accomplishment and do not squander your chance to bond with any of us.”

This is Damian’s way of welcoming him, isn’t it? All of their ways of welcoming him- officially, explicitly. 

Hal feels his chest swell with affection for everyone. “You got it, boss.”

“Tt.” Damian looks slightly embarrassed at the title. “There is no need for such a title, even as a joke. Calling me Damian as you have before is fine.”

Damian’s embarrassment earns him a reassuring hand on the shoulder from Dick and smiles from everyone else.

“Oh, and by the way,” Jason starts, looking back at Hal, “there’s no escape from us. Trust me, not even death’ll keep any of us apart- for better or for worse.” He shrugs.

Ah, right. These kids all have a penchant for dying, except Duke, apparently. 

Hal really hopes that the family curse doesn’t carry over to him. Or Bruce. Again. 

“Hey, man,” Hal tries to keep his reply light and breezy. “I’m here to stay.”

And he is. He really is. 

He has a chance to be a part of this family. He’ll do anything in his power to keep it now that he has it.

Breakfast from then on is, as always, a loud affair- especially when Stephanie finally weasels out the information about Hal and Bruce’s afterparty escapade.

—

“So,” Bruce’s arm is wrapped around Hal’s waist, and the man squeezes it on the way back to Hal’s guest room. “What are your plans for today, Flyboy?”

“Nothing yet. Why?”

“Ah, good. Then you’re free for dinner with me tonight? Just the two of us?”

“Like… like a proper date?”

“Yes, that is what I’m implying, Hal.” Bruce chuffs a laugh. “How about French?”

Hal’s never had it, and it honestly doesn’t seem very appetizing, but his lips say, “French sounds good.”

“Good.” Bruce smiles. “It’ll allow me to see you wearing that new suit.”

The man’s smile is so sincere that Hal does his best to refrain from making a comment like, “and hopefully take it off by the end of the night,” because he doesn’t want to ruin the sincerity of it all.

Besides, he wants to take things slow with Bruce. He deserves it; they deserve it.

Damn Bruce for causing all these mushy-gushy feelings that he loves so much. And damn himself for enjoying it.

“Hey, babe.”

Bruce looks at him quizzically. 

“Wanna watch Top Gun? It’ll be my fourth rewatch this year.”

“It’s only February.”

“Two times a month is pretty good if you ask me.”

Bruce gives a mix of a sigh and a chuckle. “And the kids say I’m autistic .”

Hal barks out a laugh, unapologetically real and loud.

—

Hal fixes himself up in the guest bathroom, repeatedly readjusting his tie and hair, the heel of his foot nervously bouncing up and down on the tiled floor.

So what? He’s nervous about his date— sue him. It’s not his fault Bruce is so good and strong and caring and incredible and sweet (most of the time) and reliable and earnest and—

“Yo, Green.” His thoughts are interrupted by Jason’s voice from the other side of the door. “You good man? You’ve been in there for like… a bit.”

“Shit.” Hal rushes over and opens the door to reveal both Jason and Dick. “Sorry for hogging the bathroom. You guys need to piss or something?”

“No.” Dick’s smile is amused. “We just wanted to give you the shovel talk.”

Hal’s heart does an anxious swoop in his chest. “Oh. Uh. Okay. Awesome.”

“Awesome?” Jason raised a brow.

“Well, what else am I supposed to say, kid?” Hal laughs but feels some underlying anxiety, hands awkwardly resting at his sides. He’s not sure what to do with them.

“First of all, you can relax, Hal.” The firstborn assures him. “We all like you. And Dami told me he had already given you a version of his talk.”

Jason chimes in, saying, “Yeah, don’t get all worked up.” 

“Alright then,” Hal says, mustering a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Hit me with it.”

Jason and Dick look at each other and smile, hopefully charmed by Hal’s seriousness.

“You wanna go first, Jay? I’ve got a whole speech.”

The younger rolls his eyes. “Of course you do, Dickweed.” Jason crosses his arms, his expression hardening as he speaks, his voice rough with a mix of embarrassment and defiance. “Look, I guess Bruce is like a second dad to me. I don’t need another one, so don’t try to be. I only care about him being happy with you and you being happy with him… or whatever.”

“He says, ‘I guess,’ but that’s just Jason hiding the fact he’s a softie at heart,” Dick teases, and when the younger shoves him, he shouts- more to shout than because he’s in pain. 

It reminds Hal of him and Jim.

When Dick straightens himself out, though, the usual mirth he carries is replaced by something much sharper and dangerous. He looks as kind and joyful as ever on the surface, but Hal’s senses are screaming DANGER!

“Bruce is more than just a father figure to me. He’s a mentor, an older brother, and sometimes even a friend. He took me in when he was barely more than a kid himself, so in a lot of ways, we grew up together. I owe so much of who I am today to him.” Dick's eyes are earnest, probing like Damian's when they lock onto Hal’s. “He’s far from perfect, and his idea of showing love can be... intense, but he means well. Think of hypervigilance as his love language.”

“This is the happiest we’ve seen him since he was about to marry Selina,” Jason brings up.

Dick's expression remains serious, his usual warmth giving way to a steely resolve. “Just remember this: if you hurt him, you'll have me and the rest of us to deal with. Bruce deserves to be happy, and I won't let anyone mess with that. Got it?”

At that moment, Alfred makes his presence known with a well-timed, “Very aptly put, Master Dick.” The old man smiles at the slight surprise on everyone's faces. “Mister Jordan, if you’ll allow me to speak.” Alfred looks at Hal with a fond and infinitesimally vulnerable expression. “Life has not always been kind to Master Bruce. I pray that you may both find happiness in each other.”

Hal stands there for a moment, taking in Jason’s vulnerability, Dick's stern warning, and Alfred's heartfelt plea. He gives a small, sincere nod. “I hear you, all three of you. I promise, I'm not here to hurt Bruce. I care about him, and I want him to be happy too.” His usual bravado is tempered with genuine respect and seriousness. “I'll do my best. You have my word.”

“I do not care so much for your word as I do for your will, Mister Jordan,” Alfred quips with a hint of a smile.

“Well, you’ve got that too. Promise,” Hal replies earnestly.

“Very good then,” Alfred nods, his expression softening just a touch before he steps past Dick and Jason and reaches for Hal’s tie, adjusting it. “Remember, Master Jordan, appearances matter. A well-tied tie is just the beginning. Show Bruce that you care, not just with words but your actions. Now, go on and enjoy your evening.”

Hal stands taller, feeling a bit more confident after Alfred’s adjustment. “Thanks, Alfred. I appreciate it.”

Dick claps Hal on the back with a grin, his previous seriousness fading. “Welcome to the family, Hal. We’re a handful, but you’ll get used to us.”

Jason smirks, his usual edge softening slightly. “Yeah, just don’t mess it up, and we’ll get along fine.” He pauses, then adds with a more genuine tone, “Seriously though, good luck.”

Hal chuckles, feeling the camaraderie in the hallway. “Thanks, guys. I mean it. I won’t let you down.”

Dick nods, satisfied. “Alright, guys, let’s head back so Hal can finish getting ready.”

Jason gives a quick nod and follows Dick out of the room, casting one last glance over his shoulder. “See you around, Green.”

Hal takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of their words and the support behind them. After a few more adjustments, he steps out, ready to face whatever comes next with a newfound determination.

—

Honestly? Decadent, fancy restaurants like this aren’t his thing. 

As Hal stares down at the assortment of utensils in front of him, a hint of inadequacy creeps into his gut— he does not know what is what.

Why are there four different forks? 

Hal shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he sits across from Bruce, who easily navigates the foreign menu.

“They used to serve Ortolan here, though I never once ordered it.”

“Orto what ?”

“Ortolan is a small songbird that, when cooked, is traditionally captured alive, blinded, force-fed, and then drowned in Armagnac before being roasted. Diners of the bird would then drape their heads with a napkin to preserve the aromas and ‘hide from God’ while they ate everything, including the bones. The practice is now illegal.”

“Jesus.” Hal thought he was desensitized to space delicacies, but every once in a while, Earth practices match up in strangeness and cruelty. “That’s horrible.”

“Yes, well,” Bruce unfolds the cloth napkin before draping it on his lap, gesturing for Hal to do the same. “Supposedly, it was delicious.”

Hal mirrors Bruce's action, unfolding his napkin and placing it on his lap. “Well, I think I'll stick to something a bit less... medieval.” He glances back at the menu, searching for familiar words amidst the sea of French cuisine. “Do they have a burger or something? Maybe just a regular ol' steak?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “I believe they have filet mignon.”

Hal chuckles, feeling a bit more at ease. "Filet mignon it is, then. Just point me toward the right fork when it arrives."

Despite choosing what he wants to eat, everything else— the appetizers, the general vibe, and the luxurious venue— keeps Hal anxious. 

He’s not supposed to be here.

Hal fidgets with his tie, feeling as though it’s too constraining. “Say, you think everyone here can tell I don’t belong?”

Bruce gives Hal a reassuring look, and his demeanor is calm and confident. “Hal, trust me, no one here is thinking that. If anything, they're probably wondering who the confident man in the well-tailored suit is.”

Despite the reassurance, Hal feels antsy— a directionless anxiety and impatience welling up inside him.

He should be happy! He should be joking with Bruce, annoying him, and having the time of his life, so why does he so desperately want to leave? 

“Is something wrong?” Bruce looks at Hal’s hands, playing with the tablecloth’s hem. 

“Nothing. Things are great, babe.” Hal gives a half-smile and puts his hands on his lap, tapping his palms against his thighs. “Say, does this place have Budweiser?”

Bruce notices Hal's discomfort and gives him a reassuring smile. “I don't think they have Budweiser here, but I can ask the sommelier for a close recommendation.”

“No, it’s fine. Just… antsy.”

Bruce softens his tone. “It's okay to feel out of place sometimes. Just remember, you don't have to pretend with me. If you need a break or want to go somewhere else, just say the word.”

Hal’s conflict must show on his face because Bruce reaches across the table and gives Hal's hand a brief, comforting squeeze. “We'll make the best of it together, Hal.”

Hal takes a deep breath, deciding to be honest. “You know, Bruce, I appreciate you bringing me here and everything. It's just... this place really isn't my scene.”

Bruce’s face softens in understanding.

The pilot looks around the opulent dining room, then back at Bruce, his expression apologetic but sincere. “I’d like something a bit more relaxed where we can just kick back and be ourselves.” Hal manages a genuine smile, hoping Bruce understands. “I think I'd have a much better time with you.”

“Hal, I apologize. I was so focused on picking a place that fits the occasion I forgot to consider what you'd enjoy. It’s your birthday. Where do you want to go?”

Hal hesitates momentarily, unsure of how his request would be received. “Honestly?” he began tentatively.

Bruce raises an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

“I'm really in the mood for a burger,” Hal admitted with a half-smile, almost apologetically. “A Batburger double cheeseburger combo, specifically, with those grilled onions.”

Bruce's expression betrays his amusement, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Of course,” he said with a hint of fondness.

“What's that supposed to mean?!” Hal retorts, a playful challenge in his voice.

Bruce chuckles softly. “Nothing,” he reassures him. “Let's get you that burger, Hal.”

“Really?” Hal asks, surprised and grateful.

“Absolutely,” Bruce confirms, standing up and moving around the table to help him up from his seat.

“Thanks,” Hal said sincerely, for the gesture and putting his comfort first.

The two step out of the restaurant; Hal politely waves to the staff as he pulls the door behind him. As they stroll down the sidewalk to where the car is parked, Hal can’t resist asking the question on his mind since they entered.

“Say, Spooks,” Hal began casually, “why did you take me to this fancy place? I know part of it was to match the suit, but I'd be happy with, like... anything, really. I don't need a place that used to torture birds to enjoy food.”

Bruce pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering around before settling somewhere off to the side. He clears his throat, a slight blush coloring his cheeks that Californian can’t help but find endearing.

“I wanted to impress you,” Bruce admits quietly, his voice sincere. He finally meets Hal's eyes, his expression earnest. “I wanted our first date to be memorable— for you to feel treasured and secure in allowing me to court you.”

Bruce's honesty takes Hal aback. Touched by Bruce's generosity, he smiles warmly and feels a surge of affection for the billionaire vigilante.

“Well, you certainly managed that,” Hal replies with a grin, nudging Bruce playfully with his elbow. “Next time, though, let's skip the bird torture and go straight for the burgers. Deal?”

Bruce chuckles softly, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Deal,” he agrees, relief evident in his eyes. He gently takes Hal's hand as they continue walking, the city lights casting a warm glow around them.

—

“The amount of ketchup you lather your fries in is appalling, Hal.” Bruce grimaces as he looks at the more-ketchup-than-fry that Hal holds in his hands, the Californian’s fingertips wet with the condiment.

Hal grins mischievously, waving the ketchup-drenched fry in front of Bruce. “Hey, it's not my fault you have no appreciation for the finer things in life,” he teases. “Besides, it's gotta be a crime to eat fries without ketchup.”

Bruce's frown deepens. “I've had enough encounters with Condiment King to put me off ketchup for life.”

“Conda who, now?”

“I’ll pull up his files for your reference later.” Bruce’s gaze glides to the side at a worker behind the counter, discreetly trying to take pictures of the pair. Keyword trying.

It’s not just him, though. Now that Hal’s noticed the first, he keeps seeing other people looking at them, taking their photos.

He forgot how much the media had a field day with “Halio’ and ‘Brucie’ as a duo. 

“Are you okay with the attention, Hal?” Bruce’s tone conveys his concern, eyes searching Hal for discomfort or a sign to leave.

He meets Bruce's concerned gaze with a reassuring smile. “I'm okay with it, Bruce. It comes with the territory, right? As long as we're together, I'm good.”

Bruce smiles. “It’s a shame they’re taking so many photos. I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now.”

“Well, a kiss for those cameras is a little much, but…” Hal wipes his fingers on his napkin before resting his hand next to Bruce’s, waggling his eyebrows in a jokingly enticing manner. “Your hand, please, gorgeous?”

“They’ll talk.”

“Then let them talk.” 

After a few seconds, Bruce acquiesces with, “As you wish.”

Bruce’s hand meets his; the press of his calloused, scarred skin against Hal’s smoother hand makes the pilot involuntary smile, one that only grows wider when the billionaire intertwines their fingers.

“Is this okay?” Bruce reconfirms.

“It’s perfect,” Hal replies warmly before bringing Bruce’s hand to his lips and kissing it. “Best birthday ever.”

“I'm glad, Hal,” Bruce murmurs sincerely, his eyes reflecting his affection. “I’m glad,” he repeats, softer.

No words could adequately convey how much love he feels right now, so instead, Hal just presses his smiling lips to Bruce’s hands for a second time.

“No words needed,” Bruce whispers.

Chapter Text

“Dude, dude, dude,” Barry speaks in an urgent, hushed voice, a furrow in his brow as he tugs Hal back out into the Watchtower hallway by the crook of his bent elbow, Hal needing to physically backtrack to keep up with the speedster’s hurried steps.

“Uh– is everything good, Bar’?”

“Don’t ‘Bar’ me right now. Dude! How are you going to face Batman?”

“What do you mean?”

“ What do you mean? ’” Barry throws his hands up into the air. “The articles! You’re dating the League’s greatest benefactor, Brucie, and Batman’s gonna totally kill you for it since there’s no way he doesn’t know your identity! I thought it would be okay if you kept things lowkey, but kissing his hands in public!?”

“Hey, if my partner wants a kiss, they’ll get one.” Hal just shrugs with a smile, practically unaffected by his friend’s worry. “I’ve never been one to leave someone unsatisfied.”

Barry just frowns, his face scrunching up before he quickly swats Hal’s arm, leaving a lingering sting.

“Ow!” Hal rolls his eyes. “Dude, I’m not gonna not kiss my partner in public just because you think I should be afraid of Spooky.”

“He’s not a total control freak, but Hal, buddy, work with me here!”

Ollie rushes over when he sees them in the hallway, a panicked furrow on his brow. “Hal, maybe you can call in sick today– hide at one of ours for the night so the big bad Bats won’t skin you alive.”

Hal just scoffs. “Skin me alive? Is that what you guys think of Spooky? I didn’t even kiss Bruce’s lips in public. Spooks is not that bad.”

Barry raises a brow. “If only you from last year could hear you now.”

“I agree with Barry. A year ago, I couldn't picture you defending Batman.” Ollie crosses his arms, a hint of disapproval in his stance. “Hal, how are you going to face the big guy today? You know he's going to get on your case about conflicting interests, media backlash, and possible fallout.”

“I mean, not that we haven’t worried about this stuff before, too,” Barry adds, “but, like, yeah. Are you going to be alright?”

“It’s gonna be fine, guys. Trust me.” Hal attempts to assuage their worries, but their unimpressed stares leave much trust to be desired. “Seriously. Spooky’ll work something out, and Brucie isn’t so petty that he would stop League funding if we ever got into a fight or anything.”

Not that they’d know it, but Brucie is Batman, and Batman wouldn’t let anything Hal does get in the way of how the League needs to run. 

Bruce wouldn’t have asked for a kiss if he weren’t prepared to deal with the consequences and obvious media hounding, right?

Yeah, it was a surprise to wake up to, but it was so worth it to feel the man’s lips on his, unashamedly proclaiming their love in public.

He’s never been loved proudly before.

“Come on, let’s get inside, or we’ll be late, and then Batman really will have a reason to lay into us, yeah?” the pilot offers, feeling relieved when the other two concede and glance at him worriedly as they enter the meeting room. 

“You’re almost late,” Batman remarks as soon as the three walk in, Superman and Wonder Woman already in their seats.

“But not,” Hal breezily replies, lazily stretching out in his seat.

Ollie and Barry just look at each other once more, wary as they sit down.

If there’s one good thing about having Bruce tell his two super friends about his identity, it’s that Clark and Diana don’t seem worried about Hal. If anything, they seem to be sending him looks and little smiles. Well, Diana, more than Clark— Hal has suspicions that the man is slightly jealous of him, not in a romantic sense, but just for being close to Bruce.

It’s interesting.

The meeting goes smoothly until the very end when Bruce, in his Batman voice, says, “We need to address romantic relationships within the team.”

Hal chuckles. “You make it sound like we’re not the goddamn Justice League but a bunch of office workers.”

“Justice League or not, relationships can create conflicts of interest that we can’t afford on the field,” Bruce responds, his tone unwavering.

“Like what? We’re not going to let arguments stop us.”

“I’m talking about more serious conflicts, Lantern,” Bruce says, his gaze intense.

“Such as?”

“Injuries. Deaths. Anything that could compromise your judgment and cause an irrational reaction.”

“You think I’d lose my cool?”

“I’m not singling you out.”

“Sure sounds like it, with all the ‘your’ talk.”

“ We need protocols for everyone. If loved ones are in danger, we must know who might be compromised and who can stay focused on the mission.”

“Batman,” Superman interjects before things can get heated, “I think all of us would have a difficult time if our loved ones were in danger. We have certain protocols already in place for our emergency contacts. Would those protocols not essentially be the same for loved ones?”

“I agree,” Wonder Woman nods thoughtfully, arms crossed in front of her. “Our duty is to help those in need. If our loved ones are among them, prioritizing their safety is not a violation— it's our responsibility.”

“Hrn.” Bruce obviously doesn’t want to concede, but outnumbered by his friends, he sighs, turning to Hal specifically. “We will further discuss the particular member of interest in private later if you wish.”

“Well, no one really wishes to talk hypothetically about family members and loved ones dying on their watch and having it labeled as ‘being compromised,’ but, sure, yeah.” Hal knows Bruce isn’t ready to let the topic drop, and to be fair; he isn‘t either.

“I’m being objective.”

“Spooky–”

“Lantern,” Batman says in a tone that forbids talking back.

“Spooky,” Hal says again anyway. “My partner is my priority. My family, his family, him — that’s all I need.”

“I understand your loyalty, but personal attachments can compromise our judgment. In our line of work, we can't afford to prioritize individuals over the greater good. Our responsibility is to protect everyone, not just those we care about.”

“I get it. But those personal attachments are what keep us human. They're what give us the strength to keep fighting, even when it feels like the weight of the world is on our shoulders. My partner, my family— they're my anchor. Without them, I wouldn't be who I am. We can protect everyone and still care about the people closest to us.” Hal frowns, hoping Bruce can sense his conviction despite his eyes being covered by the white lenses of his mask. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and there’s nothing that can stop me from prioritizing them.”

“I’m not saying that Bruce can’t be a priority,” Oh, so he’s name-dropping now, “but on the field, there are protocols. Should a situation arise where he needs assistance but it goes against the larger welfare of others, I want you to save others first. He is more than capable of protecting himself.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Ollie interjects, looking a little miffed that Bruce absentmindedly revealed Hal’s civilian identity through connections to Bruce (though he doesn’t know that everyone here already knows who Hal is). “Are we talking about the same Brucie? It’s a miracle he hasn’t gotten himself killed yet! Plus, he’s a League benefactor. I know you’re rich, Batman, but I don’t think you’re billionaire Brucie Wayne-level rich, especially if that guy is your sponsor.”

Hal sees how Bruce’s lip twitches in displeasure at the misunderstanding. It would honestly be a little funny if the topic weren’t so serious.

“Bruce Wayne, though a respectable man, is ultimately replaceable—“

“Replaceable?” Barry jumps in. “Batman, with all due respect, I never thought I’d hear you call someone, especially someone who has done so much for you, ‘replaceable’ because no one is. As heroes, shouldn’t we be of the mindset that every life matters? I thought you were a hero who understood that.”

Hal feels a small smile make its way onto his lips.

“Yeah, Batman ,” Superman adds on, a teasing lilt to his voice that Hal only catches onto because he’s in on the joke, “I agree with the Flash. Brucie Wayne is not a disposable individual. His work, even outside the hero community, is commendable.”

“That is true,” Wonder Woman nods along. “Among the world of men, Bruce Wayne has proven himself time and time again to be upstanding and kind, despite his flirtatious antics.”

“Bruce is good people,” Hal defends, repeating the words he once told his brother, Jim. “He’s incredibly smart, kind, charitable, and he loves and believes in the good in people harder than anybody I’ve ever known. He’s got a family who loves him, and I love him. I love him so easily that it scares me a little, and my whole thing is being fearless!”

Hal finally admits his love for Bruce, and he sees a slight hint of pink on the other man’s skin, which is exposed by the cowl. Obviously, he needs to be a little shit and embarrass his partner more. He needs to take this opportunity to tell Bruce how much he loves him, how much he really really does, while the man can’t retort and steal the show with his infuriatingly smooth talk.

Hal sighs, a bit more lovestruck than exasperated like he was going for. “I don't know how to make him feel safe and sound. Not when so much of his life has been the opposite. But I know I can make him feel loved. So much that it drowns out anything else. That man and his children are my priority, Batman. I swore it to him and his kids, and now I swear it to you in front of the League.”

“…Lantern—“ Bruce, not Batman judging by the lack of growl, starts before he’s interrupted by Ollie.

“Zip it, Batman. You know what I think? I think you’re jealous.” Ollie stands up and glares at Bruce. “I’ve seen the way you look at GL. You’re just upset that Bruce is a nice guy that makes him happy, something you wouldn’t understand.”

Oh shit.

“Green Arrow,” Batman frowns, voice stern.

“No, you listen to me, buddy.” Ollie crosses his arms over his chest confrontationally. “One of my best friends is happier than he’s been in a long time, and I won’t let you get in the way of that.”

“Arrow—“

“Batman,” Barry stands now, too. “Your dislike for Bruce Wayne has only seemed unprofessional and petty, and while I respect you, I must disagree with your personal qualms against the man.”

“Flash—“

Clark stands next. “Bruce Wayne is someone I’ve had the honor of meeting both in and out of my superhero identity, and I am proud to call him my friend. Batman, I won’t stand for any Bruce slander here, not without reason.”

Bruce just sighs, rubbing his temples.

Last but not least, taking this as her cue, Diana stands with the true grace and power of an Amazonian princess. “Bruce Wayne is someone who we should all aspire to be, both in and out of our superhero identities. I still have much to learn about the world of man, but even I can see his intentions are good. I side with Green Lantern.”

Oliver looks pleased, a cocky smirk on his face- like a cat that got the cream. “Well, Batman? Have you got anything to say to that?”

The Dark Knight just sighs before removing his cowl, a scowl on his handsome face. “What I have to say is that you’re all idiots.”

Clark and Diana immediately burst out laughing, and Hal looks towards his other two friends, who stand gaping in shock.

“Bwhuh? B-Bruce Wayne?” Oliver is slack-jawed as he looks between Bruce, Hal, and Barry- as though trying to confirm what he’s seeing. “You’re shittin’ me.”

“I feel like I’m stuck in an episode of Scooby Doo,” Barry replies to Oliver’s shock. “I never thought that…”

“Trust me,” Clark chimes in with a laugh, “I was almost as surprised as you all when I found out.”

“Indeed. Bruce Wayne as Batman is not a connection many would ever consider,” Diana smiles. “Bruce’s acting skills are quite commendable. In fact, all his skills, both in and out of costume, are.”

“I’m just surprised you took off the cowl, gorgeous,” Hal smiles, feeling his heart race with the excitement caused by the situation. Now, the entire Justice League knows Bruce’s and his identity. He can finally be wholly honest with his friends about Bruce and Batman. “Did my passionate speech get to you that much?”

“You, Clark, and Diana are… hrn.”

“ What , Bruce?” Diana asks in a tone that’s almost challenging.

“A force to be reckoned with.”

Clark smiles and claps his friend on the shoulder. “Hal is a good addition when making fun of you, I’ll admit that.”

“I as well,” Diana smiles at both Bruce and Hal. “It is very obvious how much the two of you care for one another.”

“I’m sorry… I’m still in shock,” Ollie brings the attention back to him and Barry. “And- And we’re all just okay with saying Hal’s name right now?”

“Oh my God,” Barry looks like his soul has left his body. “I can’t believe Batman's identity was revealed before Green Arrow and I.”

Hal can see the sentence process between his two friends before they both yank off their hoods/masks.

The two speak at the same time.
“I’m Bartholomew ‘Barry’ Allen, forensic chemist.”
“I’m Oliver Queen, a millionaire.” Oliver introduces himself before smiling like a dumbass. “Hah! I said it faster!”

“You so didn’t,” Barry frowns. “I’m literally The Flash.”

“You’re literally the loser ,” comes Oliver’s sing-song reply. 

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“I was faster.”

“The only thing you’re faster at is finishing in be—“

“The thing you both are is insufferable,” Bruce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Aw, come on, Spooky,” Hal walks around the table to wrap his arm around Bruce’s waist. “They’re not that bad.”

“Hrn.”

“They had lovely speeches about defending you.”

“To me ,” comes Bruce’s reply, sounding almost like he’s pouting about them standing up to Batman in the process.

“In their defense,” Hal needs to speak a little louder to be heard over Ollie and Barry’s continued bickering (which isn’t really helping their cases), “how were they supposed to know? Isn’t it a good thing they ended up liking Bruce so much?”

“Hrn,” comes the familiar hum.

“I know I like Bruce so much.”

“Enough to love him, apparently.” Bruce smiles finally, gaze soft as he acknowledges Hal’s feelings.

“It was easier to say with your cowl on,” the pilot admits.

“Say it to me again?”

“In private…”

“Hm… I like the sound of that.”

“Oh god,” Ollie sounds horrified. “Batman flirts ? Flirterer!”

“This feels wrong,” Barry admits. “No offense, Batman.”

Bruce’s face flushes as Clark and Diana laugh again. They seem to laugh at him a lot, actually. It’s refreshing for Hal to see just how human (hah, literally) Bruce can be with them. 

“I will continue to remain professional during League meetings. This was an… unexpected development, is all.” He clears his throat before turning to Hal. “Hal, should a situation arise where I need assistance but it goes against the larger welfare of others, I want you to save them first.”

“I can’t do that. Even if we weren’t together, I couldn’t do that.”

“Hal, there are protocols–”

“Fuck protocols, babe. I don’t care that you’ve trained Nightwing, have a will, or any of that stuff. You’re not replaceable. It’s more than Gotham needs Batman. Gotham needs Brucie Wayne, your kids and not-kids need their Dad or not-Dad, and I need you, Bruce, so stop planning for this like it’s inevitable.”

Bruce just sighs. “You’re stubborn.”

“It’s my selling point,” the Californian grins. “Besides… listen to my argument. I earned that title of second smartest in the League.”

“I would like to argue that—“

“Ah- nonononono,” Hal shushes Bruce with a cheeky smile. “As the first person here to figure out your identity, I think I deserve proper credit.”

“Hal was the first to discover Bruce was Batman?” Barry questions with a shout.

Now it’s Bruce’s turn to relish in Hal’s embarrassment as he recounts his edit-watching and lip-recognition skills.

Gods, Hal really was doomed from the start, wasn’t he? Staring at Bruce’s lips during a meeting… he’s probably liked Bruce longer than he’s ever realized.

Since that was Batman’s last point of the meeting and there were no other world-shattering matters to discuss (for once), the meeting obviously descended into chaos from there.

“You’re an ass, y’know that?” Oliver rhetorically quips as he playfully knocks his fist into Bruce’s arm, more courageous than usual now that the cowl is off. 

Hal watches as Bruce smiles and replies with a cheeky, “I am aware.”

The archer lets out a huff of disbelief at the sight of Batman joking around. “You’re lucky you make him so happy.”

“I’m lucky he’s allowed me the privilege to,” Bruce looks at Hal with unfiltered love in his eyes, unashamed to show his love in front of his friends.

Hal grins as he steps closer to Bruce. “Well, I guess we're both pretty damn lucky, then.” He reaches out to lightly touch Bruce's arm, his voice softening as he adds, “And I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

Bruce puts his hand over Hal’s, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Jeez,” Barry smiles, “if this is gonna be the new norm, I’ll have new cavities after every meeting!”

“Better from this than from your excessive snacking,” Diana jokes.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve gotta agree with you there,” the speedster concedes, sheepish.

Clark clears his throat. “As much as I’d love to continue teasing Bruce, my wife and I have a date tonight. Mind if we call an end to this meeting?”

“Not at all,” Bruce’s voice is all Batman again, but his thumb is distractingly rubbing up and down against the skin of Hal’s hand. “See you all next week. Barry, a reminder that we have monitor duty next Tuesday.”

Clark quickly takes his leave, and Diana follows suit.

When it’s just the four of them, Ollie "casually" looks over at Bruce, a hint of mischief in his tone when he speaks. “Hey, Bruce, you mind sticking around for a minute after Hal heads out? Barry and I have something we wanna, uh, discuss with you.” He gives a lopsided grin, glancing at Barry for backup. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing too serious. Just a little... chat. You know, the kind friends give to make sure you treat someone right.”

Barry gives a nervous chuckle and rubs the back of his neck, looking between his three teammates. “Yeah, uh, what Ollie said. Just a friendly chat. No shovels involved… probably.” In an effort to soften the moment, he adds with a grin, “We just want to make sure our buddy’s in good hands, you know?”

Bruce just nods before turning to his lover. “I’ll see you at the Manor.”

“You gonna be okay?” Hal asks, as though the man he’s asking isn’t literally Bruce, someone who’s juggled Barry and Ollie’s shenanigans for years.

“I’ll be alright.” Bruce squeezes Hal’s hand one last time before pulling away. “Anything is worth it for you. Even shovel talks.”

Hal rolls his eyes with a grin. “Seriously, guys? A shovel talk? ”Hal just huffs a laugh and turns to his two dumbass friends, fondness in his eyes behind the mask. “Just don’t forget I can take care of myself—and him, too. But if you two really think you can intimidate Batman, be my guest.” Then, he turns to Bruce with a playful shrug, "Have fun with that, babe."

With that, Hal zeta tubes back to Wayne Manor, where he’s greeted by Dick and Damian squabbling in the Batcave.

“Team Fluff won the last Puppy Bowl. There is no reason they shall not win again,” the youngest frowns down at Dick, who’s currently doing a handstand.

“Team Ruff only lost by four points last time. I think they’ve got it this time around. Plus, their name is cuter.”

“Cuter than Fluff? Richard, clearly, the blood rushing to your head in such a position is causing a lapse in judgment.”

“Aww, Dami, you’re this upset before your team has even lost?” The older smirks before righting himself, cockily looking down at the other.

“You will eat your words.”

“Wanna bet, kiddo?”

Hal, now in his civvies, amusedly approaches the pair with a grin on his face. “Am I allowed to ask what the Puppy Bowl is?”

Damian crosses his arms and looks at Hal with a slightly raised eyebrow. “The Puppy Bowl is a televised event where shelter puppies, 131 this year, and 6 with special needs, are divided into two teams and play a mock American football game on a miniature field with dog toys. It’s meant to be 'cute' and 'entertaining'— and it's usually aired during the Super Bowl.” He pauses, then adds with a small smirk, “It’s more of a spectacle for people who prefer watching animals chase toys over an actual sporting event, but it also advertises specific shelters and dogs. I think team Fluff is going to win.”

“It's finally available on streaming sites, but it originally aired a few weeks ago,” Dick helpfully supplies. “Wanna get in on it? Dami and I are planning to watch it in an hour or so. I’ve gotta run by the store to buy some popcorn first, though, since Duke finished it off during our last movie night.”

“Yeah, sure.” Hal’s glad for the offer. “Do I get a vote on who I think will win?”

“Of course.” Dick smiles. “That’s what qualifies you to watch.”

“Choose wisely, Jordan.” Damian crosses his arms, eyes narrowed slightly in judgment. 

“...I think I’ll stick to Damian’s team. Team Tuff?”

“Fluff.”

“Ah, yeah, them. Fluff.” The pilot smiles at the thought of the puppies playing. “It sounds cute.”

Dick grins warmly at Hal in response. “Team Fluff’s got some strong contenders this year. And don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re caught up on all the Puppy Bowl drama.”

Damian nods, satisfied. “At least you’ve aligned yourself with the winning side. Don’t make me regret letting you in on this.” Then, with a small, almost imperceptible smile, “It’s not just ‘cute,’ Jordan. It’s about strategy and skill, even if they are puppies.”

Strategy and skill, sure. Hal doubts there’ll be too much of that involved, but hey! Maybe it’ll surprise him. 

“I’m heading upstairs now. Just find me when we’re gonna watch, yeah?” Hal waves his hand as he makes his way up to the main Manor, relaxing at the warmth inside in comparison to the cave.

Hal finds his way into the living room, resting on the sofa and aimlessly scrolling on his phone before he feels a presence behind him, a warm, rumbly voice filling him with love.

“Watching edits of me again?” Bruce teases, walking around him to settle in beside him.

Hal leans into the touch, resting his head on the man’s shoulder, relaxing further. “You wish,” he retorts. “How was your shovel talk?”

“Illuminating.”

“How so?”

“I may have underestimated how much they truly love you, Hal.” Bruce holds him a little tighter. “I’m very proud to have a partner that is so loved.”

“Proud, huh?”

“Yes.” Bruce presses a kiss into Hal’s hair. “Very.”

They sit in content silence for a second before Hal speaks again. “Have you ever counted shoulders with anyone before?”

“Counted shoulders?” Bruce raises a quizzical brow. 

“Here, watch.” Hal taps his own shoulders, “One. Two.” And then touches the shoulder of Bruce closest to him. “Three.” Lastly, he taps Bruce’s shoulder furthest away from him, effectively wrapping his arm over him. “Four.”

Bruce just stares at him in disbelief before chuckling, a blush coming across his face. “That was horrible.”

“It was great.”

“I hated that.”

“You loved it, gorgeous. It’s okay to admit it.”

They both laugh.

Hal just smiles before turning slightly, reaching up with his free hand to cradle Bruce’s face. “I’m so lucky I get to do this now,” he voices before looking down at the man’s lips.

“I’m the luckiest.” Bruce leans to kiss him and feels Hal’s lips smiling against his, both of them chuckling again as they pull away.

“Is that the next title we’ll fight over? Who’s luckiest?”

“I’ll win, you know.”

“Oh, will you, now?”

“I will.” Bruce kisses the underside of Hal’s jaw next, lips reverently trailing down the column of the pilot’s neck, and Hal’s surprised hitch of his breath brushes against the Gothamite’s hair.

Hal goes to brace himself, one hand gently carding into Bruce’s raven locks and the other gripping at the shoulder of his black turtleneck.

Bruce is about to get lucky when they hear someone clear their throat at the entrance of the room and a higher-pitched “Tt.”

“So,” Bruce turns to see Dick, a hand on his hip and another holding a couple of bags of popped popcorn. “Mind not doing that on the sofa? Also, Hal, Damian and I are going to watch the Puppy Bowl now.”

“The puppy what?” Bruce frowns when he feels Hal pull away. “We have a theater. Go there.”

“Well, I’d rather we keep the couch clean, then,” Dick refutes.

Damian grimaces at his brother’s words. “That is disgusting, Richard.”

Bruce just sighs, and with that, the mood is wholly lost. 

“Rain check?” Hal unhelpfully offers.

Bruce gives a displeased but accepting hum.

“Hey, shared spaces are where we keep things PG,” Dick adds, a subtle reminder about where they are.

“That’s fair,” Hal smiles weakly. “So, we ready to watch?”

Damian throws a pointed look Hal’s way. “We’ve been ready. We were just waiting for you to be less… preoccupied. ” He begins walking to the theatre, adding over his shoulder, “Let’s not waste any more time.”

Dick just shrugs before looking at Bruce. “You’re Team Ruff with me, okay?”

“Team what?”

“C’mon, gorgeous.” Hal regretfully stands, already missing Bruce’s body heat. It’s okay; they can cuddle in the theatre. “We’ll continue what we started later,” he comments with a cheeky wink.

Chapter Text

It’s been half a year since they’ve gotten together, and their relationship isn’t perfect.

In their civilian lives, Brucie and Halio are constantly scrutinized by the media. Bruce is among the richest people in the world. He is infamous for his ex-playboy persona and stupidity, but he is praised for his charity. In the media’s eyes, Hal is just a lucky guy who won a raffle and became a friend-turned-lover. 

Those who hate Brucie are waiting for him to fail, and those who love him believe Halio isn’t worthy enough for him. On the flip side, some believe Halio is too good for Brucie or believe that their love is just a short-term fling. The media is constantly waiting for a scandal to pounce on. The media’s favorite is Brucie’s “fondness” for Batman- especially with his exorbitant spending as the Dark Knight’s longtime personal sponsor and benefactor of the League. 

Hal thinks it’s funny that they believe Bruce is cheating on him with himself. Bruce is just glad that Hal and the kids find it entertaining. Sometimes, Barbara likes to stir the pot by releasing rumors and fake tips to the media she and the kids create.

In their hero lives, Batman is created by fear, and Hal is created by a lack of it; of course they fight. Fighting is another form of communication, and boy, do they communicate. There have been close calls with their own lives and each other’s lives, fights about plans, excessive time spent heroing, paranoia, and recklessness, but it all stems from love. 

They’ve never had reasons to doubt each other’s love.

With Batman and Green Lantern trusting the Justice League with their civilian identities and everyone else quickly following suit, it’s no wonder they all become closer. Close enough that Bruce has even let Clark and Diana meet the kids (who are still upset that Barry and Ollie met them first). Bruce, Hal, and the kids have never been safer or more loved.

In their true, personal lives, Bruce and Hal are imperfect people in an imperfect relationship with an imperfect love, but that, in itself, is perfectly fine with them.

Bruce trusts Hal. He trusts him more than he thought he could ever trust someone. Trust is a powerful form of love from him.

Hal no longer defines himself by his identity as Green Lantern. Before, he had a routine: be with Carol, fight, break up, lose his job when he fucks off in space for a few months, and come back and get her and his job back. Just before recognizing Bruce, he didn’t have a real connection to Earth with his estranged family and Carol with a fiancé, but now he does. He has reasons to come back, not to be so reckless, and reasons to feel so very treasured, wanted, appreciated, and loved.

Hal does not doubt that even if he were no longer useful as Green Lantern, he would still matter to his friends and loved ones.

If anything, his relationship with Bruce has only strengthened his other relationships. Now that Bruce’s identity is out to Barry and Ollie, he’s never been closer with the two, able to tell them everything. He’s been talking to his younger brother, Jim, regularly, and he and Carol work well as friends- better than they ever did in a relationship. He’s been getting closer to Clark and Diana, too!

They also gave him a shovel talk, and Diana happily brought up Hal’s confident, “When they see how much I love you, they won’t have a thing to worry about, babe,” the man had told Bruce minutes before, before thanking him for watching out for Bruce. Clark, slightly less enthusiastic but pushing himself to be friendly, offered to watch a Coast City Angel vs Metropolis Meteors game with Hal. They ended up enjoying that night out, and Bruce told them how glad he was they were getting along with a rare, unburdened smile.

Hal sometimes likes to show Bruce edits of Brucie on TikTok and once drunkenly confessed that that was how he recognized his lips. Bruce told him that Barbara had sent Hal’s accounts and search history weeks before and that he had been flattered at the notion. (The pilot embarrassedly drank more that night.)

Now, Hal spends an obnoxious time on Brucie Wayne edit pages and fan pages, sometimes just to embarrass Bruce or piss him off when he brings up stories wildly exaggerated by the media or dumb things relating to his Brucie persona. 

When Bruce catches Hal watching edits (Hal’s favorite place to watch them is in bed with Bruce), the billionaire gets jealous of himself for taking away Hal’s attention. He’ll deny it, but Hal affectionately remembers Bruce using a cheesy line like, “You have the real thing right here.”

It’s great, but also it’s not.

Hal has gained a lot of love and a lot of worry.

Though a lack of fear defines Green Lantern, Hal confessed to Bruce that he’s afraid sometimes. 

“I’m afraid that one day I’ll fuck it up like I always do,” Hal had admitted, leaning on Bruce’s shoulder, sitting on the sofa, the movie on the TV screen long forgotten. “I’m afraid one day I’ll lose everything all over again. All it takes is one thing going wrong, one wrong thing done or said, a dangerous mission, one night gone wrong— everything I have and love could instantly disappear. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I know I can't lose you either.” Bruce reached over and took his hand in his own, squeezed it, and lifted it to kiss his knuckles- much like Hal had done to Bruce’s on their first date. “Hal, I know what it's like to live with fear—especially the fear of losing the people you care about. But you’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere.” He stared Hal in the eyes and continued, “I need you too, Hal. More than I ever thought I could need anyone. We’re in this for the long haul.”

“Spooky and Flyboy?”

“Spooky and Flyboy,” Bruce smiled.

Hal would later call Barry and tell him he decided on Harold Jordan-Wayne should Bruce one day ask.

Hal and the kids have never been better. He’s been to numerous breakfasts, dinners, galas, a couple of Cass’s ballet performances, and family movie nights. 

Damian and Hal finally visited the Coast City Marine Mammal Center, where they met the sea lion that Hal had adopted. Inspired by the visit, Damian chose to adopt a sea lion himself, with Hal’s blessing, and named it Haidar— a name meaning "lion" in Arabic, symbolizing a warrior with bravery and nobility. As they toured the center, Damian enthusiastically shared his extensive knowledge about the various mammals, and with the boy’s passion and expertise shining through, it only deepened Hal’s affection for him.

Though Duke and the pilot’s conversations can still be stilted at times, Hal will still come over and binge-watch Quentin Tarantino movies with the kid. Recently, he’s been trying to learn how to play Magic: the Gathering since Duke enjoys collectible card games, and Magic is the game that inspired all the others. Hal has observed the kid’s competitive streak, and he honestly can’t wait until he’s ready to challenge him.

Tim and Hal don’t “hang out” per se, so much as they exchange information. Tim sometimes tells Hal things about Young Justice, a boy named Bernard, how patrol went, and new gadgets he’s been thinking about. In return, Hal will sometimes talk about how boring the most recent JL meeting was, unbelievable (and only slightly exaggerated) stories from space and about the Lantern Corps to impress the kid, and advanced alien tech. Every once in a while, Tim will “just so happen” to stumble across old pictures of the family and start - a conversation with Hal by showing him them.

Stephanie and Hal are the definition of a chaotic duo. Their previous pranks have included glitter bombs going off in training, Hal distracting Bruce while Steph simultaneously modified Batman’s voice modulator to a hilariously high-pitcher setting, which made him sound utterly unserious like a member of Alvin and the Chipmunks, and most recently, recording a song, burning it onto a CD, (Hal is appalled when Stephanie reveals it’s not like second nature to her), and putting it in the batcomputer’s CD player. Bruce fondly keeps their “Who’s the (Bat)Man” original song at the desk, and their less-than-perfect singing never fails to warm the man’s heart.

Jason and Hal unexpectedly bonded over motorcycles. It wasn’t something anyone saw coming, but it happened naturally. It all started when Hal playfully conjured a green construct of a cruiser beside Jason, who was busy tinkering with his bike. The gesture sparked a conversation, and Hal shared how, when he was younger, he had his eye on a stunning cruiser he never entirely managed to save up for. Now, with his ring, he can create that dream bike whenever he wants. From then on, talking became easy between them, even when the topic wasn’t Bruce. Though they rarely dive into the heavier subjects— like their losses, betrayals, clashes with Bruce, or the struggles of being the middle sibling— they both know that the other understands in a way that doesn’t need words.

Cass and Hal train together. While Cass kicks his ass in combat, he learns a lot from her. She’s improved his punches, taught him to be less predictable, adjusted his breathing patterns when fighting, and taught him how to read opponents’ body language better. When Hal revealed his ability to create constructs of people, she efficiently pointed out mistakes in their body language and patterns. With her help, he can confidently make a more accurate version of his Bruce construct to practice fighting with and apologizing to when needed. On top of that, Hal is a dancer! He’s not a great one, but he used to dance with Carol on dates, and with Cass, though he’s much less fluid, he’ll do the Mamba, Salsa, Cha-Cha, or anything else that can repeat a pattern. It’s fun for both of them.

Dick likes to joke that Hal has been winning over the Batfamily left and right, but honestly, he’s the one closest to Hal. With Justice League missions involving Nightwing and the Titans more often now with Dick’s identity being revealed to the League, they’ve helped each other out both on and off the field. They both check in on their teams, work well with the not-kids, and care deeply for Bruce- something that’s bonded them together as the ones who need to stop him from overworking himself (while they both hypocritically push themselves) and mask their weaknesses or hurt with witty banter or sharp sarcasm. According to Dick, the Batfamily has rarely been so aligned with each other as they are when they spend time with him, and after years of complicated sibling rivalries and secrets, Hal is a refreshing change.

Barbara, the one he’s most recently met, is someone he’s still figuring out how to talk to. Sometimes, he’ll just communicate with her through his Google searches like “Hello, I know you’re seeing this” and “Dude, this meeting is so boring. Please save me :(“ and every once in a while, he gets a response on his hacked phone and laptop’s notes app. Dick and Cass seem to like him, which is probably the only reason Barbara entertains him. When he found out she was Dinah’s friend, it opened up a can of worms when he brought up Ollie, who he didn’t know she hated, and he wisely never did so ever again. Yikes.

Hal is happy.

Even when he’s not with them, he’s constantly reminded of his found family. 

His apartment used to be sparse, a barren wasteland of necessities and forgotten hobbies barely visited. Now, he’s upturned the photos of him and Jim. He’s got new photos: him with Barry and Ollie, the printed images of him at the amusement park with Bruce and his kids, a picture of Bruce and him gifted by Tim (with Bruce in his jacket), one of him and Bruce on a double date with Carol and Nathan, an inconspicuous picture of him, Kilowog, and Bruce standing together (hidden in his bedside dresser), and some sketches from Damian hung on the walls. The kids even leave some stuff at his apartment, using Bruce’s Zeta Tube to travel to California- dropping off extra clothes, snacks, and other personal belongings. Bruce has a whole section of Hal’s closet and dresser belonging solely to him.

His apartment finally feels like a home for the first time.

Bruce’s home screen wallpaper is a picture of Hal and the kids enjoying a family breakfast, Alfred smiling at the camera as he expertly balances multiple breakfasts with his hands. Now that the public is allowed to know about his and Hal’s relationship, his lock screen rotates between photos of him and the man together. His favorite is a domestic picture of Hal in his stretched-out I ♥︎ Gotham shirt, the material clinging to his toned form as he raises a glass of coffee to his lips, leaning against the counter, a sleepy smile on his face as he looks at Bruce. Whenever Hal sees it, he pleads for Bruce to replace it with one where his hair is styled, but the billionaire always refuses, tucking his phone close to his heart- keeping that image of Hal safe.

Now, Hal lies beside Bruce in bed, spooning the Gothamite and gently tracing the skin folds of his neck with his finger. He chuckles to himself when the man lets out a tired groan, stirring awake.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Hal softly greets, finger trailing down Bruce’s neck to his scarred back before going lower when he rests his hand against the man’s hip, switching to rubbing circles into the skin with his thumb.

“Mm,” Bruce grunts in reply.

They stay like that for a few moments before Bruce shifts onto his back, pulling Hal to rest his head over Bruce’s heart.

“Someone’s cuddly today,” the pilot notes, amused. “You trying to stall?”

Bruce sweeps his fingers over Hal’s mussed bangs, brushing them to the side. “No.”

“Mhm, sure.” Hal lets out a disbelieving but satisfied huff when Bruce wraps his arms around him. “Jim, Sue, and the kids expect us to be there in an hour, y’know. We should get up.”

“Tell them we’ll be late.”

“No can do.” Hal lightly pinches Bruce's side, getting an irritated grunt in return. “I haven’t seen Howie and Jane in over a month. Besides, that wouldn’t be a good first impression of you.”

Bruce presses a kiss to the pilot’s hair. “I haven’t spent a morning in bed with you for longer.”

“Yeah, well, we have the rest of our lives for that. Come on, big guy.” Despite his words, Hal doesn’t move.

“Five more minutes.”

“It’s never just five more minutes with you.” The pilot gently pinches him again. “Come on, I gotta fill out some paperwork.”

“You? Paperwork?” Bruce teases.

“Shuddup.” Hal’s brows furrow, jokingly offended. “Carol called,” he feels Bruce’s arms tighten slightly in reflexive jealousy, “Relax, gorgeous. She just offered me a test pilot gig for Ferris Air’s newest project. You know, the one you’re funding,” he reminds the man.

“Oh.” Bruce’s voice has a slightly surprised lilt, something only someone who truly knew him would recognize. “It was approved?”

Hal huffs a chuckle. “Yeah, Tim, Lucius, and I worked out some details in your schematic. You really like creating things that have drag to it.”

“It was an old, outdated blueprint.”

“Excuses,” Hal taunts.

“Who’s the smartest in the League?”

“It’s about to be me if I need to look at one more ‘old’ and ‘outdated’ blueprint with drag, babe.”

They both smile.

Hal Jordan is unashamedly head-over-heels for Bruce Wayne, and Hal Jordan is a threat for the sole fact of how much he means to Bruce and his family.

They complete each other in many ways and are happy– incandescently so.

“Hal, is something wrong?” Bruce smooths a thumb over Hal’s cheekbone, and the pilot looks up into his lover’s eyes. “You went quiet.”

“I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

There’s a pause, and Hal can feel the slight hitch of the man’s breath before he looks up just in time to see his lover’s cheeks flush. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Hal feels safest in Bruce’s arms. “I love you, Bruce.”

Bruce’s gaze and voice soften at the affection, “I love you too, Hal.”

Bruce Wayne is the smartest in the League, but Hal Jordan is the luckiest because he’s the most loved.