Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started as an accident. Or by chance. Because really it was a very deliberate choice, on Hal’s part. He was only there for the opening of Ferris Air’s new east coast operation, which had been generously sponsored by Wayne Industries. There were other test pilots here, of course, but Carol had insisted that Hal had to be there. She also insisted that he keep his mouth shut and to be “on his best behavior.” She can’t explicitly say that he’s here to be eye candy, but he got the gist. Smile, shake hands, and be a very muscular carrot on a very long stick to all the actually important people here. Namely, Bruce Wayne.

Which is. Well. She doesn’t know that their biggest investor for this whole venture is Batman. At least, neither of them have said the exact words out loud, so he assumes that she doesn’t know. Otherwise she wouldn’t have bought him a new, tailored suit that fits his backside suspiciously well. And she wouldn’t have sent him all of those interviews and articles and photoshoots of good ol’ Bruce. Because she does know how Hal feels about Batman, on account of the many, many, rants she has sat through about his controlling, secretive, annoying asshole of a coworker.

Even then, Hal isn’t so sure that she wouldn’t throw Hal at Bruce anyways. He knows how important it is that this opening goes well, and he knows that she’s throwing almost everything at the wall to see what sticks. But maybe if she knew that she was inviting Batman and his flock of baby bats and birds, she might have relaxed a bit on the security. As it is, Hal himself is a bit offended that she doesn’t trust a Green Lantern to defend a room full of big wigs and military generals.

The airplane hanger that the party is in has been scrubbed clean and decorated lavishly. Three smaller planes have been parked here, and of course one has “Wayne Industries” blazened in huge, blue letters across the side. Hal tries his best not to develop an aneurysm as various attendees put their hands all over some of the best birds money can buy, the velvet rope and snack tables surrounding the planes clearly not enough of a deterrent.

Hal checks his watch for the third time since the party officially started. It’s been an hour and Bruce, their featured speaker and main investor, still hasn’t arrived. Hal understands that he has a whole reputation to maintain as Bruce. He gets it. But an hour is a bit overkill, and the longer that Carol stands there trying not to bite her nails, the more pissed Hal gets. Would it kill Bats to consider other people for once? His children arrived before him. Even the newly legally revived one, which is how important this is.

Hal scans the room and sees the four boys huddled near the stealth plane Bruce had so generously donated for the night. Three of them seem to be engaged in a heated discussion, but one of them, Tim, is already staring at Hal. Hal’s eyes widen as Tim gestures him over. He briefly considers finding an escape route, or pretending that he didn’t see it. He really doesn’t want to deal with any bats tonight, and he is absolutely willing to run away from a child. But he thinks of Carol and how snubbing a Wayne would look. So he sighs and reluctantly makes his way over.

Hal doesn’t even get a greeting out before he’s being bombarded.

“Father has been kidnapped,” the littlest bat says sharply. Damian, Hal thinks. The current Robin. Hal opens his mouth to respond, but Tim cuts in.

“He was on his way here. As Bruce. The news will break any minute.”

Hal tries again. “Okay, and why does this–”

“Concern you? Because we’re Waynes. We can’t just disappear when our father gets kidnapped only to have him miraculously rescued by Robin, miles away from Gotham” Damian snaps. He sounds remarkably like Batman, down to the implied you idiot. It’s a little uncanny. Jason rolls his eyes at Damian.

“Jeez, relax littlest demon. No need to bite his head off.”

Damian whips around towards Jason and for a brief, hysterical moment, Hal thinks he might actually start hissing and spitting like a feral cat as he glares.

“Do not call me that, Todd.”

Hal watches Dick give an aggrieved sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose, a motion that is also scarily reminiscent of Batman.

“What we meant to say,” Dick says, sending a pointed look at his younger brothers, “is that we need your help. We can’t leave. Bruce can’t break out on his own. But we can create a distraction and the Green Lantern can break him out.”

“And what, Superman can’t spare a few minutes for his best pal?” Hal asks, laugh catching in his throat as the mood abruptly changes. Jason immediately stands up straighter, directing his glare at Hal. Damian turns his disdain back to him. Tim cocks his head at him. Dick narrows his eyes.

“Please.” Dick says through gritted teeth. It comes out more like a command. Hal sighs, resigning himself to Carol’s disappointment over Hal’s disappearance. At least he would be delivering her guest of honor.

“You really think that Bruce would rather have the Green Lantern blaze through the city than break out himself?” Hal asked Dick. He didn’t particularly look forward to the dressing down Bats would certainly give him for “associating with him in costume” or some bullshit.

“Yes,” Tim says with a glare, resolute in the way that only bats really could pull off.

Hal groans and resists the urge to stomp his foot.

“Fine. But he owes me one. And I need a distraction,” Hal says. Tim thrusts a tablet into his hands.

“Here’s his tracker’s last known location. It pinged near this warehouse less than five minutes ago before going dark. I doubt these people are professionals, but you still need to–”

“Yeah kid I got it, be careful. Not my first kidnapping. I’ll get your dad back in as little pieces as possible, promise.”

“You absolute-” Damian goes to lunge at Hal, but Dick scoops him up and slaps a hand over his mouth before he can yell any explicatives.

“Great. Well, here’s your distraction. Thank you, and don’t fuck up,” Dick says before swinging Damian around and pretending to loudly console him.

“I know Dami, I’m worried about him, too. There, there, he’ll be okay.”

“Well. Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Hal huffs under his breath. The boys all start “comforting” Damian loudly and with various degrees of sincerity, drawing the eyes of the various gossip hungry socialites around them. Hal slips into the bathroom and briefly feels ridiculous as he shimmies out of the window in an expensive suit like he’s on a bad date.

Tim was right. They were far from professionals. Bruce had been tied up in the back room of a warehouse, guarded by one gunman. The other two were busy arguing quietly in the middle of the main floor to notice Hal peaking through the windows.

From what Hal’s gathered, they disagree over how much ransom money they can get out of Bruce. Personally, Hal doesn’t think either of them are aiming high enough. Bruce is a billionaire. Surely they can think bigger than 3 million.

News must be spreading fast, Hal can hear sirens in the distance and it won't be long before the press shoves their noses in, too. He scans for more gunmen, but it really is just the three of them in a dingy warehouse. Honestly.

Nonetheless, Hal can’t resist a good entrance. A giant fist construct smashes in the glass window before Hal flies through. Both men stare at him, frozen with their guns pointed towards the ground.

“Come on gentlemen, this is just sad,” Hal sighs, making quick work of their weapons and knocking them to the ground. The third man rushes out of the other room towards the noise. At least he has the sense to aim his gun at Hal, but it’s much too late. Hal already has a construct wrapped around his ankle and is already yanking him forward, knocking him out in one go. He deposits all three in the center of the room, wrapping them in a construct.

“Really, there’s no professionalism these days,” Hal says. The two conscious ones stare at him in disbelief.

“C’mon, please, we just want–” Hal slaps a green construct over both of their mouths.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, kidnapping and ransom, get new ideas,” Hal glances out the window and sees the red and blue flash of police cars. He adds a bow to their ropes and very politely slides the three of them through the window and in front of an officer, who stares back at him in bewilderment.

“All handled boys!” Hal shouts before turning and heading towards Bruce.

Hal enters the room just as Bruce manages to free his hands from their zip ties.

“Aw man, now my rescue is pointless,” Hal whines. Bruce tenses as he looks up and sees Hal, his face quickly twisting into a scowl.

“Lantern. What are you doing.”

“Rescuing you from a frankly embarrassing kidnapping, is what. You’re welcome by the way. Your kids said you had to play damsel, so here I am, your majesty. Here to save the princess from, well, what amounts to a malnourished dragon if we’re being honest,”

“Well, you’ve rescued me. I can meet you at Ferris,” Bruce says, standing and stretching his wrists.

“No can do, Spooky. There’s a whole gaggle of cameras out there by now waiting to catch a glimpse of my daring rescue,” Hal says, unable to keep the glee from his voice as Bruce narrows his eyes at him.

“Jordan, don’t you dare–”

Hal ignores him as he yanks him against his chest and rockets towards the front of the warehouse and out of the upper window. With a dramatic flourish, he lands softly in front of the gathering crowd of press and police officers and onlookers. Bruce glares at him like he’s trying to explode his brain, before stepping back and smoothing out his expression.

Hal had seen the way Bruce’s eye twitched when he first spotted the green of his suit earlier, but he had an act to put on, same as his kids. He turns away from Hal to glance at the crowd with a convincingly frightened and bewildered look on his face. He turns back to Hal.

“Thank you, Green Lantern. I don’t know what I would have done without you,” He says, his voice pitched just so. It was like watching a politician, sometimes. Or maybe a late night host. Hal always found it fascinating to watch, if not slightly disturbing.

Hal had really dreaded this night. Having to pretend to be polite and interested in Bruce, enduring Bruce Wayne and his airheaded billionaire act all for Carol’s sake. It would have been excruciatingly awkward. But as he stands with Bruce Wayne, dressed in his uniform instead of a stuffy and overly expensive suit, Hal realizes that the universe has presented him with an absolutely hilarious opportunity.

Hal gently takes Bruce’s offered hand between both of his, and takes a dramatic bow as he kisses his palm.

“Anything for you, Mr. Wayne,” Hal says, smiling as Bruce’s jaw clenches. Hal glances at the crowd, the camera flashes and frantic murmurs increasing. “Please, may I offer you a lift? It’s much safer than travelling on your own.”

Bruce’s jaw tightens even more.

“Oh, how kind. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” Bruce says, his voice dangerously cheery. If they were anywhere else, Hal is sure he would have received a punch to the face at this point. Hal grins even wider.

“It will hardly be an inconvenience for me, Mr. Wayne,” Hal says. Before Bruce has the chance to find a valid reason to refuse, Hal scoops Bruce up in a bridal carry, and in full view of the press, he leans down to whisper in Bruce’s ear. “Your kids promised me a favor, by the way.”

Hal doesn’t give Bruce a chance to respond, launching them both into the air.

Chapter Text

News breaks the next morning, and Hal gleefully saves every magazine, newspaper, and gossip rag he can get his hands on. There’s pictures, speculation, shaky videos, hashtags, the whole nine yards.

Hal would maybe feel a little bit bad about it if the press wasn’t also covering the Ferris event by association. The Green Lantern had delivered Bruce right at Carol’s feet, and Bruce Wayne had insisted that the party simply must continue, Carol, my dear, of course I’m sure, nothing can keep me from a good speech and a couple drinks. It was as if Bruce’s air wasn’t windswept, like his sleeves weren’t rumpled and ever so slightly torn, like his face wasn’t a bit pink from the wind chill that Hal had tried his best to shield him from. Of course Bruce Wayne could make the whole just-kidnapped-and-then-rescued look sexy.

Green Lantern had been given a very firm thank you and goodbye from Carol, and Hal Jordan had slipped back into the crowd minutes later, noticed only by a stone-faced Tim Drake.

But the lack of thanks from the bats can’t even bring his mood down. Not even the upcoming League meeting–where Hal will surely get the dressing down of his life–can bring his mood down. One article called him Bruce Wayne’s Hunky Hero. He would absolutely be riding this high for two weeks at least.

When the League meeting arrives, Batman doesn’t acknowledge it.

In the middle of the table, carefully selected from Hal’s collection and strategically placed so that everyone can see it, is last week’s story in the Gazette.

BRUCE WAYNE RESCUED BY THE GREEN LANTERN: WAS THERE A SPARK?

Hal is early for once, leaned back in his chair and his feet kicked up on the table. Clark was there before him, because of course he was, and he had just watched as Hal had tossed the newspaper onto the table and made himself comfortable. There’s a slight twist of disgust on his face as he registers whose publication is on the table, but Clark is otherwise resolutely silent as he looks between the paper and Hal.

“C’mon big blue, the Planet can’t break every story first. No need to be jealous,” Hal says. Clark raises an eyebrow at him and crosses his arms.

“Now that is an uncanny Bat impression. Do you practice that in the mirror?” Hal laughs.

“What? No, Lantern, this is–” Clark sputters.

“Hilarious, my best idea yet?” Hal supplies, leaning further back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head.

“Oh no, how are we crashing and burning this time?” Oliver groans as he enters. Hal rolls his eyes and scoops up the article with a construct to float it in front of Oliver’s face before he can sit down.

“Have a little faith in your best friend, Ollie. I do have good ideas, you know,” Hal says. Oliver snorts and snatches the paper out of the air, frowning as he scans the article.

“Oh good, it’s just you crashing and burning this time,” Oliver says, tossing the paper back in Hal’s face and dropping himself into his chair. Hal’s chair tips forward and he scrambles to slam his feet back to the ground as he catches the newspaper.

“Hey! You’re just jealous that I’m not your--” Hal straightens out the paper to read directly from the article “Dashing Knight in Glowing Armor. I am doing the opposite of crashing and burning right now, buddy,” Hal says, jabbing his finger at Oliver. Barry, Diana, and J’onn begin to make their way in while Oliver stares at Hal like his head has fallen off.

“No, I’m mourning my best friend because Batman’s gonna kill him, are you crazy?” Oliver says. Barry takes his seat next to Oliver and looks warily between them.

“Hal, what did you do now?” Barry asks, wary.

“Why do you always assume it’s my fault? I need new friends,” Hal huffs. Barry gives Hal a look and Hal crosses his arms and doesn’t pout, thank you very much.

“Apparently Green Lantern is sweeping Bruce Wayne off his feet,” Oliver intones, gesturing at the newspaper in front of Hal.

“Hal… C’mon on man you’re just antagonizing him now,” Barry sighs, exasperated. Hal throws his hands up in the air and slams the newspaper back down in the center of the table as the rest of the group

“Hey come on, this is funny! It’s harmless! Just your friendly planetary-neighborhood superhero saving the day,” Hal insists.

“Flash is right, Lantern. It’s unnecessary. And it’s dangerous,” Clark states. Hal resists rolling his eyes at Superman, but can’t help the surge of annoyance.

“Now you really sound like Bats,” Hal snaps. The room is thrown into awkward silence for a moment, until Diana pipes up.

“It is a little bit humorous,” she offers.

“Thank you, princess,” Hal says triumphantly. Barry groans and buries his face in his hand, earning a sympathetic shoulder pat from Oliver. Clark’s mouth pinches into a line as he meets J’onn’s eyes, as if pleading for backup.

Oliver opens his mouth, probably to say something else annoying, when Batman sweeps into the room, forcing his mouth shut with a click. Everyone else quickly straightens up and settles into their seats and averts their eyes from the table as Batman moves to the projector. Clark clears his throat and glares at Hal, daring him to say something. Hal gives him his best grin in return, trying not to laugh at the way the room all but stands at attention like their commanding officer just walked into the room.

Batman finishes setting up today’s torture and turns toward the assembled heroes. If you weren’t watching him very carefully, you would miss the half second of hesitation as he noticed something was wrong, quickly scanning the room, before zeroing in on the offending article. But Hal is watching. There’s a brief moment of Bruce looking at the article and then meeting Hal’s gaze, the whole room holding their breath. Hal can barely contain himself as he waits for Bruce to start yelling, or growling, or for steam to start coming out of his ears.

But Batman swiftly moves on, flicking on the screen.

“Intel from our last mission suggests that there’s a greater threat posed by these individuals than we thought,” he begins.

The whole room relaxes, and Hal’s face falls into a scowl. Oliver smirks at his sour expression and Hal crosses his arms and goes back to not-pouting. Fine. If Hal needs to try harder, he can try harder.

His second opportunity comes to him a week later, in Coast City.

Hal is spending a rare day off melting into his couch, half of his attention on whatever game is on and half on his phone, trying to play catch up with the world after a few days in space dealing with a few Green-Lantern-obsessed aliens. There was no shortage of Lantern-related cults in the universe, and all Corps members got to have their turn with their very own fan clubs. This time it was Hal’s turn. Nothing He couldn’t handle, of course, but they were rather passionate fans and all Hal wanted to do when he returned was sink into his bed and not see the color green for just a few hours.

Lucky him, Ferris Air was shut down for the day. Carol was giving a very exclusive tour to all of her investors, including Bruce Wayne, and a select few press to demonstrate (read: show off) where all their very generous donations were being put to use. Which is to say, there were to be no test pilots within a mile of the building, especially if your name was Hal Jordan. Hal didn’t know what the point of ogling a bunch of planes was if you weren’t going to see them in action, but what did he know? Clearly Carol was moving on from the eye candy strategy.

Which was more than fine with Hal, if it meant being a lazy sack of shit all day. He deserved to melt his brain in front of a couple of screens and order the world’s greasiest pizza. With a nod to himself, Hal pulled up the contact for the best, shittiest pizza place in Coast City, and went to hit the call button.

But the universe quickly and swiftly punishes him for his hubris as his phone comes to life with an alert from Carol’s panic button. Hal had insisted that she have one, despite her thinking it was pointless. The inevitable I told you so makes peeling himself off the couch and out the window worth it.

He makes it to Ferris Air in record time, and quickly assesses the situation. He has to give credit where it’s due. Clearly, these guys put a great deal of planning into their whole scheme. There’s at least 10 gunmen this time, guns pointed at the tour group. They at least had the sense to pile phones in the center of the room, but they didn't count on anyone having a direct line to Green Lantern. It also seems they didn’t count on Bruce Wayne, loud mouth and martyr extraordinaire.

Each gunman has their eyes on two or three people each, except for Bruce, who has one all to himself and seems to be desperately trying to get even more machine guns pointed at his face.

“We all know I’m the richest person in this room, gentlemen. Name your price and you can walk away with it,” He’s saying, arms up, body deceptively relaxed. He sounds careless, but Hal sees the way he eyes the guns in the room, never losing sight of where they are. The men don’t seem too interested in Bruce’s offer, too busy bullying a hostage towards a parked plane. Hal narrows his eyes. That’s Carol.

Taking that as his queue, and with a note to himself to buy Carol flowers, Hal crashes through a high window. He slams green constructs around all the hostages before a single shot can go off, and lands himself right in front of Bruce. They’re face to face as Hal shields them from Bruce’s guard, and Hal remembers that members of the press were included in this little tour.

“I’ve got it from here, gorgeous,” he draws before swinging around and lifting his leg to give the first gunman a swift kick in the chest, moving a shield around Bruce at the same time.

“Shit, you said he was gone, asshole,” one of the goons shouts.

“He was!” Another shouts back.

“Well, now I’m back. In my city,” Hal says. The guns turn on him, but Hal bats away the bullets with barely a thought, rising above the crowd and diving down barreling through a few of them. God Hal hates it, but Bruce was right about that extra hand-to-hand training. Getting all of the men into a neat pile only takes a little longer than last time. Hal doesn’t envy whoever has to deal with them.

“Ca- Um. Ma’am, are you alright?” Hal asks as Carol brushes off her skirt. Carol glares at him.

“Better than my window,” she mutters, assessing the damage. Hal would roll his eyes at her if they didn’t have an audience. He glances around and his eyes land on Bruce.

Hal knows what most of Bruce’s glares look like. In fact, he prides himself on being able to tell exactly why Bruce is mad at him just by his scowl. But the way that Bruce is looking at him right now is new. Eyes dark, gaze heavy. Hal has no idea what this one means, but he intends on capitalizing on his rather heroic entrance.

Hal walks back to Bruce and stops a little closer than is probably considered polite. He clocks the watchful eyes of a couple people who have already produced notepads.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Wayne,” Hal says, giving his best and most innocent smile. Bruce stares at him, and for a moment Hal thinks he’s going to get stone-walled again, but then there’s something behind those cold, calculating, blue eyes that has Hal freezing in place. A mischievous glimmer that looks out of place on Batman’s face.

Bruce steps closer, tilts his head down and looks up at Hal, somehow making the inch Hal has on Bruce seem much larger. A hand grips Hal’s arm and slides up, squeezing. Feeling his muscles, jesus.

“Please,” Bruce says, a little higher pitched than normal, a little breathier, the pause deliberate “call me Bruce.”

Oh, so that’s how it is? Hal swallows against a dry throat, and Bruce’s eyes track the motion.

“As you wish,” Hal responds. Hal lets Bruce’s hand linger for a moment before stepping back, out of his reach. He looks around at the crowd. No one is visibly injured, surely they have it handled from here. Bruce's expression is a little too smug for Hal's liking.

“I hope to see you around, Bruce,” Hal says with an exaggerated wink. He doesn’t wait for a response before he gets the hell outta dodge.

What the fuck was that.

Chapter Text

Bruce hates to be a cliche, but he really, genuinely, hates Metropolis.

If his best friend wasn’t Superman, Bruce would probably never step foot in the damn city. But here he was, trying to do a favor for said best friend. The Clark Kent half of him, to be exact.

Another exclusive interview with Bruce Wayne just for the Daily Planet. Not that Bruce was getting nothing out of this. The news had been fixated on him and Green Lantern for the past week, so a tell-all interview about the new Wayne Industries initiative wasn’t a hardship if it meant getting the press to stick their noses somewhere less dangerous.

But of course Clark insisted on doing it in Metropolis, insisted on bringing along a junior reporter because he needs the experience Bruce, it would be so good for him. It’s because of that junior reporter that Clark can’t just break out of his handcuffs right now, and Bruce can’t break his thumb to slip out of his.

So they’re both stuck, as Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne, kidnapped by some super-powered goon, hell bent on using journalist Clark Kent to get his agenda out there. Bruce was the fun bonus, this time, along with Dan. He feels bad for the kid, really. He’s putting on a brave face, but Bruce can tell that this is either going to put him off journalism for life or cause a life-long unhealthy obsession with it. Bruce is putting his money on the latter, given the Clark Kent of it all.

“I guess we’ll have to reschedule our interview, Mr. Wayne,” Clark jokes, for Dan’s benefit. Bruce opens his mouth to respond, about to make a crack about being tied up just to see Clark squirm, when something outside the window catches his eye. If he were anyone else, he might have missed it. But he’s spent years with the League, and he’d know the glow of a Green Lantern anywhere. Bruce feels his heart stutter in his chest.

He was annoyed, at first. Still is annoyed. Hal put them both in danger, associating Bruce Wayne with the Green Lantern. It was reckless, being so bold. But Bruce would be lying if he said it wasn’t fun, pushing back a little. It came from that same impulse he felt during arguments with the man, that same urge to pushback and needle him. And Bruce isn’t stupid. He knows what that impulse is, knows what the heat in his chest meant when Hal looked at him like that. So if Hal was going to do it anyway, Bruce was going to give as good as he got.

“Oh, I’ll give you something to write about,” Bruce mutters. Clark raises an eyebrow at him, but is prevented from commenting by the sound of crashing and gunfire from the next room. Dan yelps and Bruce has to remind himself that not everyone is from Gotham, and that flinching at the sound of guns is, in fact, normal.

“What’s that?” Dan asks.

“Don’t worry, it’s probably Superman or something,” Clark says, still looking at Bruce, eyes narrowed. Bruce snorts.

It’s a shame that they’re separated from all of the action by a wall, Bruce wouldn’t have minded another front-row seat to just how flexible and strong Hal is. He forgets, sometimes, how dangerous Hal is. It’s by design, all of the flashy moves and ridiculous constructs, meant to distract you and drop your guard. But three times now, Hal has flown in and taken care of groups of armed men like it was nothing. Bruce shifts in anticipation as the noise outside of the door dies down.

“Are you gentlemen alright?” Hal asks as he flings the door open dramatically. Bruce doesn’t bother to hide the way he scans him head to toe, tight uniform and barely mused hair, ridiculously high boots and a stupid mask.

“I am now that you’re here, beautiful,” Bruce says, letting his voice slide a little more socialite. He watches the brief flicker of surprise on Hal’s face with a not-small amount of satisfaction for getting one over on him. Hal recovers quickly, a grin taking over his features. His whole body is suffused with it, when Hal grins.

“Well, you know I’ll always come for you, gorgeous,” Hal responds.

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bruce’s voice comes out a little deeper than he meant for it to be.

Clark clears his throat loudly, and Bruce does not startle, but it’s close. Dan looks somewhere between nervous and embarrassed and terrified.

“Thank you, Green Lantern, for finding us. We’re all grateful. If you could please untie us,” Clark says, deadpan. Hal’s grin turns into a sheepish smile as he sets to work on Clark’s cuffs before moving to Dan.

“Ah, thank you Mr. Green Lantern,” the poor kid mutters as he rubs his wrist.

“No problem, kid! First kidnapping, huh?” Hal jokes. Dan’s face turns white.

“First?!” He squeaks out. Hal cringes and Bruce sighs. Dan turns to Clark and looks sick as Clark tries to explain that really, it’s not that common. I mean, we’re journalists, so of course it’s a little more common. But at least it’s not Gotham. No really, it’s not that big of a deal. Oh well. Clark’s problem, now.

Hal hurries over to Bruce, kneeling next to him to undo his cuffs.

“Nice one, Lantern,” Bruce murmurs. Hal looks up to glare at him, and the way he’s kneeling puts his head so close to Bruce’s lap, and Hal is basically on his knees, and Bruce is sure he’s going to start associating that glare with the myriad of images now flashing through his head. They both freeze, staring at each other. Bruce’s heart feels like it’s in his throat as Hal’s eyes flicker down to his lips.

“We should get out of here,” Bruce says, wishing he was saying it in another, more private, context.

“Uh huh,” Hal answers. Bruce realizes that Hal has already undone his cuffs, and that he’s sitting there with his hands cradled between Hal’s.

“Hal,” Bruce whispers, quiet enough that Dan won't hear, not that he could hear anything over his hyperventilating. Hal holds his gaze for a few more seconds before nodding and standing back up, carefully letting go of Bruce’s hands.

“Let's get you guys out of here,” Hal says loudly.

He transports them all down to street level in one go, picking them up gently in giant green hand constructs. There’s no crowd waiting this time, the news hadn’t had time to travel. Passerbys hardly react to their landing. Metropolis and Gotham are similar, in that way.

Dan stumbles as he lands, quickly leaning on a nearby building.

“Stay out of trouble,” Hal says, turning to leave. Bruce grips his arm, tugging him back around. Hal lets himself be pulled.

“Thank you, for finding me again,” Bruce says, angling his head up to plant a kiss on Hal’s cheek. He lingers for a moment, if only to study the way Hal’s blush starts from his neck.

“My pleasure,” Hal responds, voice hoarse. Bruce lets his hand fall and Hal backs away. Hal maintains eye contact as he launches into the air, once again making a show of his departure. Bruce’s eyes track him across the sky.

Dan waits until Hal is completely gone before stumbling over to the alley to throw up.

Bruce looks over at Clark, who’s staring back at him intently, arms crossed.

“What?” Bruce asks.

“I want it on the record that I think this is a bad idea,” he says. Bruce rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything as Clark turns to go help Dan.

Chapter Text

Things spiral out of control, from there.

Bruce knows that it’s a recipe for disaster. He knows that Clark is probably right, that this is a terrible idea for so many reasons. But Bruce’s mind keeps drifting back to that moment in Metropolis, Hal’s face inches away from his. Bruce has always known that Hal Jordan is attractive, but it was different to see all of his confidence and bluster up close, to have the shitty pick-up lines turned on him.

And it was fun.

Green Lantern lands on the balcony of one of the upper floors of Wayne Tower in the middle of a party, ostensibly to discourage any Gotham typical incidents. Bruce spends longer than necessary on the balcony, exaggerating his typical flirting and making sure his face was in full view of the window. Many of Gotham’s reporters fancy themselves lip-readers, and Bruce does nothing to discourage them that night. Hal gets close again, runs a hand up Bruce’s arm, tells a joke that makes him laugh.

The next morning, headlines call him Bruce Wayne’s Guest of Honor, despite only being there for a fraction of the event. Speculation runs rampant, body-language and relationship experts all weighing in on Bruce Wayne’s newest fling.

Hal seems to take this all in stride, preening as Oliver and Barry attempt to tease him aboard the Watchtower. Bruce feels a pang in his heart at the pride in Hal’s voice as he reads out lines from the latest articles.

“Oh hey listen to this one: ‘It seems that the sexiest superhero has been taken off the market by our very own sexiest billionaire.’ Hear that, Ollie, sexiest,” Hal boasts.

But it’s not about being with him, with Bruce, it’s about the attention of being associated with Bruce Wayne. Which is fine, despite the unimpressed looks Clark keeps sending his way.

Vicky Vale presses Bruce for information repeatedly, and there’s only so many times Bruce can have his assistant send a coy no comment at this time. Still, he dances around the question, fawns over Green Arrow just to piss Hal off. Vicky still spends a paragraph describing his smile when he talked about the Green Lantern, calling it “soft and saccharine.”

A reporter catches Green Lantern for a quick comment after he rescues a family from a burning building, choosing to spend his precious few seconds asking about Bruce Wayne.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” is Hal’s response, complete with a wink and an annoying smirk.

Bruce is a little too eager when he reaches for the newspaper the morning after Hal rescues him from a minor bank robbery he happened to get caught in, earning him a raised eyebrow from Alfred. He ignores him and scans through the short article.

When asked for a comment, the Green Lantern responded “What can I say? I just can’t help myself. I can’t stay away.”

Bruce finds himself suppressing a small smile at the quote. He pulls out his phone.

Bruce: Can you get anymore cliche?

Hal: just to be clear, you’re critiquing my flirting because it’s not original enough

Bruce: It leaves something to be desired, yes.

Hal: unbelievable. well, your wish is my command my liege

Bruce snorts and slides his phone back in his pocket, looking up to an even more curious expression on Alfred’s face. Bruce clears his throat and slinks out of the kitchen before fleeing down to the cave. Alfred will see the news anyways, but he still snatches the newspaper off the counter on the way out.

Later, Bruce can feel Tim staring at him as he sits at the console, the silence in the cave very deliberate. Tim isn’t even doing anything down here, just standing around and fiddling with his equipment, extending and retracting his bowstaff every few seconds.

By what feels like the thousandth time Bruce has heard the thwack of it extending, he gives up. With a sigh, he swivels his chair around to face Tim.

“What.” He grunts. Tim retracts his staff and turns to face Bruce, leaning against the table next to him.

“Oh, nothing,” Tim hums. Bruce narrows his eyes, mind racing but anxiety eased by Tim’s relaxed posture. Last time he did this, he was working up the courage to come out to Bruce, and the time before that he was working up the courage to tell Bruce that he crashed his car.

“You’ve been standing around doing nothing for 10 minutes,” Bruce says.

“What, I can’t hang out?” Tim asks, mock offended. Bruce has been through this routine enough times to not fall into that trap. Jason was particularly good at that one.

“Tim. What is it.”

“It’s just interesting, is all,” Tim intones. This is a trap, too, Bruce knows. He almost misses the days when Tim was too shy to torture Bruce like this. Almost.

Whatever. Might as well get it over with. Bruce will humor him.

“What is,” Bruce sighs.

“I thought Bruce Wayne didn’t associate with League members in public, but I was reading the Planet the other day and there were some fascinating stories in there.”

Bruce curses himself for never learning his lesson with his kids. He doesn’t respond to Tim, confident that he’ll continue regardless.

“It’s just, Green Lantern seems so familiar with Bruce Wayne. And Bruce Wayne seems to have a lot to say about him,” Tim says, pulling out his phone and scrolling through what’s probably this morning’s article.

“Why are you referring to me in the third person, I’m Bruce Wayne. And you kids are the ones who started it,” Bruce says.

“Indeed you are. You’re also Green Lantern’s Civilian Paramour,” Tim reads out, grinning from ear to ear. Bruce frowns, not recognizing that particular line.

“Who wrote that one?” Bruce asks. Tim’s grin gets impossibly wider at the confirmation that Bruce has been following the situation. Surely that’s not news, Bruce keeps an eye on any press related to his family.

“It was co-authored by Daniel Miller,” Tim says simply. Bruce freezes and stares at Tim, waiting for him to continue. Tim just stares back, clearly waiting until Bruce asks. Bruce sighs again.

“Who was the other co-author?” Bruce grits out, already knowing the answer.

“Oh, just Clark Kent,” Tim answers, voice absolutely gleeful.

Son of a bitch.

Hal stares at the article in disbelief. He almost skipped it, with the bulk of the article still being about Bruce Wayne and his new initiative, his level-headedness under the pressure of a kidnapping. But Hal is a good friend, and Clark’s name is attached to the article, so he read it anyway. He didn’t expect this from Clark, who had crossed his arms and glared at him at that meeting, admonishing him for reckless behavior like a school teacher.

Then again, he shares a by-line on this one. Maybe the last section isn’t Clark’s doing. Maybe.

It’s clear that there’s a kind of familiarity between the two that speaks to a longer history. But contrary to speculation, their relationship seems to be of a more genuine nature. Coast City’s resident Lantern claimed to ‘always come when Mr. Wayne calls’ speaking to Mr. Wayne’s far reaching influence.

Genuine nature. Jesus. Clark might as well lay out all of his secrets. Might as well write Hey world, Green Lantern has a very ill-advised crush on Bruce Wayne. Bruce must be about to burst a blood vessel, or buy the Planet just to fire Clark and this Daniel character.

“Everything okay?” Barry asks.

Hal tears his eyes away from his phone to see Barry and Oliver staring at him from across the booth. From the looks on their faces, it’s been quiet for a while.

“What? Yeah, of course,” Hal responds, setting his phone face down on the table. They both continue to stare at him, and Hal suddenly feels exposed.

“Really? Because you were just looking at your phone like it kicked your dog. What’s going on?” Oliver presses.

“Nothing. Nothing happened, it’s all good,” Hal insists. It's not like Hal has been keeping the whole Bruce thing a secret. In fact, one could say he was deliberately not keeping it a secret. He had discussed it with Barry and Ollie, multiple times. It’s not his fault that his friends didn’t keep up with the news enough to know about the whole saga.

Oliver and Barry share a long look, and Hal barely has time to register the smirk on Barry’s face before lightning flashes in front of him and his phone appears in Barry’s hands.

“Hey!” Hal shouts, reaching for his phone only to be blocked by Oliver. “This isn’t fair, I can’t use my powers in public. Give it back!”

“‘The Green Lantern rescued us in what felt like a matter of seconds, but it seemed to me that he was there on account of Mr. Wayne.’” Barry twists in his seat and holds Hal’s phone further away as he reads while Oliver half-wrestles, half-slaps Hal away.

Oliver whips around to try and read off of Hal’s phone at the mention of Bruce, and Hal uses the distraction to reach over and snatch his phone back, only cheating a little bit with his ring. He leans back in his seat and makes a mental note to tip well. He doesn’t want to get them kicked out of their favorite bar because his friends are children.

Hal sticks his tongue out at Barry as he holds his phone to his chest.

Barry and Oliver are looking at him again.

“Hal,” Barry intones, voice admonishing. Hal glares at him.

“C’mon man, are you really still doing this?” Oliver asks. Hal glares at them harder.

“Doing what? Saving Bruce’s sorry ass? Yes, I am,” Hal says. Barry sighs defeatedly, and Hal really hates when he does that. It makes him feel like a misbehaving school boy.

“Do you have to flirt with him?” Barry asks. Damn him and his speed-reading.

“Hey now, I didn’t start it this time. Sometimes it’s him, too,” Hal says. They both stare at him in shock. Hal freezes.

“I mean, sometimes he's an instigator, too. He starts fights. I’m not the only one doing shit. Come on, stop looking at me like that. I flirted with him once and he flirted with me once. Okay, a few times, but it’s just,” Hal snaps his mouth shut before he sends Oliver into a coma. Barry looks much too serious, assessing Hal carefully.

“Hal,” Barry says gently.

“Oh stop,” Hal snaps, “It’s a joke. It’s for the cameras. Bruce does something stupid and I come rescue him. It’s fun.” Hal elects not to mention the times when the Green Lantern didn’t have a reason to be there, technically. When he could have flown away from reporters. When he could have left well enough alone. “Besides, weren’t both of you laughing at it the other day? It’s funny.”

“Hal, it’s been weeks. What’s really going on here?” Barry asks. Hal doesn’t answer, just continues to sit there and stare back at his friends. They can think whatever they want, but it’s fine. It’s harmless, really. Bruce’s name is mentioned in the news, or on the police scanners, and Hal usually isn’t doing much so he swoops in. He flirts outrageously, and Bruce scowls, or laughs, or flirts back. It’s a win either way, so what’s the harm?

“Wait, do you like Bruce?” Oliver has apparently recovered enough from his shock to contribute to the conversation now.

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Hal responds. Oliver’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

“Oh, you do. You like-like him,” Oliver says, grinning. Barry’s jaw drops, and, okay, that’s a little dramatic.

“I just said that he’s a pain in the ass. And what are we, in middle school?” Hal huffs.

“Pain in the ass tends to be your type. And you aren’t denying it,” Oliver says, matter-of-fact. Hal scowls at him.

“Whatever. I’m done talking about this, anyone want another drink? I’m getting another drink,” Hal says, getting up from the booth and walking away. He ignores Barry calling his name and Oliver’s boisterous laughter. Hal’s feelings for Bruce didn’t have anything to do with this. Not that he had any. It’s like he said, it was just a fun joke.

Hal leans against the bar and sighs. Who is he kidding? He’s fucked. Standing on that balcony last week, making Bruce laugh–his real laugh–felt better than fucking flying. At some point he had stopped flirting with Bruce to annoy him and started flirting with Bruce just to make him smile. Just to be close to him.

Hal’s phone buzzes in his hands, and he’s suddenly extremely grateful for the distraction.

He looks down, and his heart stops in his chest.

Dick: SOS. B in trouble. Kidnappers demanding a Lantern

Chapter Text

Hal is used to seeing his friends in danger.

It comes with the job. His friends are all in this hero or Lantern business, same as Hal, and they all face the same threats everyday. Hal trusts the Justice League and his fellow Lanterns, but sometimes his heart still skips a beat when Barry runs at mach 10, or when Kyle gets a little too close to an angry alien.

It comes with the job, but somehow nothing prepares Hal for the sight of Bruce, just Bruce, kneeling with a blaster pointed at his head. Bruce’s performance as Batman is so effective that even Hal sometimes forgets that he’s just Bruce. The same guy who’s been flirting with him and fighting with him in equal measure. The same guy who raised an army of kids, who are all listening in as Hal attempts to save their dad.

Hal gives the five aliens a cursory scan as he lands in front of them on the roof, hands raised. A news helicopter hovers much too close, and he registers shadowy figures lurking a few buildings away. His stomach sinks as he recognizes the beings in front of him. The damn cultists from a few weeks back. Seems like Hal didn’t completely disband his fanclub.

The alien closest to him, the one next to Bruce, chitters at him and Hal breathes as his ring translates, keeping Bruce in his peripheral vision.

“Green Lantern 2814.1, thank you for joining us.”

“Yeah, well, it looks like I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Hal responds.

“We knew that you would come for him. Do not worry. Nothing will happen to your companion if you come with us.”

Hal is so glad that Bruce can’t understand a word the aliens are saying, because they are absolutely proving his paranoid ass right. The Green Lantern flirting with Bruce has put them in danger. Bruce is without any of his gear, dressed as a civilian and unlikely to fight back when the news is already covering the story.

But the worst part is that Hal almost concedes to them instantly, the imminent threat of Bruce being harmed sending a flurry of panic through his heart and, motherfucker. Fuck. Shit. What an inconvenient time to have this realization. Jesus, Oliver is gonna be insufferable about this.

Hal approaches his fanclub slowly. The upside to dealing with blood thirsty fanatics is that they’re fanatics. The word of Green Lantern 2814.1 is law to them. A fact that makes Hal a little sick, but he’s not above using it to his advantage here.

“I will speak with you further once he’s been released and is safe from harm,” Hal commands. He sees Bruce shift and hears him huff, but Hal ignores him.

“How can we ensure that you will cooperate?” One of the aliens asks.

“By making me happy, and threatening him is making me very unhappy,” Hal snaps. The aliens flinch back and look around at each other, seemingly deliberating through elaborate hand gestures that Hal’s ring can’t make heads or tails of. Hal watches as the one holding the blaster slowly lowers it toward the ground and nudges Bruce in the back. Bruce scowls as he almost loses his balance, but he struggles to his feet and starts over toward Hal.

Hal’s shoulders relax as Bruce gets closer, and he almost misses a different blaster being raised back towards Bruce’s head. In an instant, Hal is deflecting the shot and engaging with the group. The fuckers are surprisingly adept, obsessed as they are with the Lanterns. But Hal is a Green Lantern, a member of the Justice League, and he’s fucking pissed.

The shooter goes down hard, landing on his arm with a satisfying crunch. Hal doesn’t give the other armed alien much time to react, slamming him against the rooftop just as hard. The other aliens make an awful shrieking as they attempt to charge at Hal, but he swifty dodges them. He doesn’t get too creative with the construct, it’s really just a large brick that crashes into the remaining three cultists, stunning them into near silence. One last chitter is translated by his ring, and Hal pulls his fist back.

“Lantern,” Bruce says, voice much softer than it has any right to be. Hal turns his head to look at Bruce. Bruce lifts his bound hands to give him a little wave, and Hal lets his fist drop. Bruce is fine. He’s fine.

Hal leaves the aliens where they are, confident that they can’t wiggle out of his hold. He slices through the rope on Bruce’s wrists and runs his hands over his arms and chest, checking for injury.

“Did they hurt you?” Hal asks.

“Why, were you worried?” Bruce teases. Hal meets his eyes, doesn’t even think before responding.

“Yes,” Hal says, and Bruce’s lips part in surprise, “they knew I would come for you, that they could get to me through you.”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Bruce says, and Hal realizes he’s trying to reassure him. That maybe he’s trying to give Hal an out, here. Well fuck that.

“No, Bruce, you weren’t,” Hal whispers. Because apparently it was obvious enough that the Green Lantern was in love with Bruce that fucking aliens knew before Hal did. Hal watches Bruce’s face intently as he begins to understand what Hal’s saying, and shit, he feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

“Bruce, I-” Hal starts, but suddenly he’s being pulled in by his shoulders, and Bruce’s lips are finally pressed against his. Hal wastes no time in getting his hands around Bruce, in his hair, around his waist. His brain is on overdrive, desperately trying to experience everything about this all at once. The way Bruce tastes, the scratch of his facial hair, his scent, the way he inhales sharply as Hal runs his hand through his soft hair.

It feels a bit like flying, and Hal is a little bit giddy as they break away. He grins at Bruce’s newly disheveled appearance.

“About time, huh?” Hal asks. Bruce smiles back at him, his eyes bright as they slide over to the, oh. Oh right. The news helicopter. Bruce Wayne’s rescue, televised as always. Hal clears his throat and is careful to keep himself composed as he steps back.

“Makes for good TV, I suppose,” he says. Bruce’s mouth twitches down, and he tilts his head in confusion. That stupid head tilt used to piss Hal off, but now he just finds it annoyingly adorable. He has to look away.

“I should take care of my mess,” Hal says, gesturing towards the pile of wide-eyed and flattened aliens.

“Alright,” Bruce says, his voice back to its flat neutrality, just this side of Batman.

Hal has to stop himself from laughing. How fucking absurd it would be, to have a movie-worthy make out on top of a building. How fucking Bruce Wayne.

“Right. Well, same time tomorrow?” Hal can’t keep the bite out of his tone. It’s not Bruce’s fault, not really. Hal started it. He’s the asshole who played it up in front of cameras, who put Bruce’s life in danger. He feels like a child throwing a tantrum for getting exactly what he wanted.

“H– Lantern? What–”

“Your children are waiting for you, Mr. Wayne. You should get back to them,” Hal responds. He can’t bring himself to look back as he wraps the aliens in an easier to transport prison cell. “I have work to do.”

This time, it feels more like he’s fleeing than making a dramatic exit as he launches himself away from Bruce.