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“My turn.” Barry smirked as he reached to give the bottle a sharp spin.
It was Friday night, which meant that most of the League would be present at the Watchtower. Every so often, Barry and Hal suggested that they play games, as some sort of ‘bonding activity’, which now had become a regular occurrence, much to Bruce’s dismay.
Multiple sets of eyes tracked the bottle's movement as it came to a slow halt. The bottle ended up landing on Diana, and with a rather loud whoop, Barry rushed down the hallway and into the cupboard closet. With a fond eyeroll, Diana followed him into his tracks while Hal and Oliver cheered her on.
“Don’t give him anything too good!”
“Tell him to take it slow!”
Rounds of snickering and giggling echoed through the room as Diana made her exit. Batman, per usual, remained his stoic, unreadable self, though no one paid him any mind. The detective was never keen on joining in, but somehow, Superman always managed to get him to stay, and so he was forced to sit through these ‘game nights’, as Hal called them.
But this night in particular was different from the other game nights he’d been forced to attend. All because he had been idiotic enough to lose a bet. From his own son, not to mention.
It all started when Dick subtly pointed out that Batman was the only League member with a secret identity remaining. The League had long stopped questioning Batman about his identity, finally having learned that their bothersome prodding was no use at all, but despite their best efforts of respecting Batman’s privacy, Bruce could still practically feel the curiosity radiating off them whenever he adjusted his cowl or removed a piece of ruined armor. At times, it could be rather amusing to watch, Bruce had to admit.
But when Dick suggested that it was time for Batman to open up, even the tiniest bit, Bruce had scoffed and firmly stated that he had no desire to share his personal life with the League.
“I bet you can’t go on another year without mentioning something about your secret identity. You’re bound to slip up, old man.” Jason had dared him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Or else?” Bruce countered, raising a brow. He was genuinely interested in what his second-eldest had to offer.
“Or else you reveal your identity to the entire League.”
“One member,” Bruce had said. “I’ll have to reveal my identity to one member. Under my own conditions.”
And of course, even the Dark Knight loses a bet every once in a while.
Excuse him that in a moment of barely concealed distress, he’d revealed that my son is in need of my attention whilst storming out of a debrief when he got a call from Alfred that Nightwing had been severely injured and was barely hanging onto his last threads of life.
Bruce wouldn’t necessarily call it a slip up, as his outburst was a totally conscious decision, but Jason, showing absolutely no mercy nor compassion, was extremely insistent that he’d lost the bet, and therefore had to reveal his identity to one of the League members as soon as possible. It was also no help that none of his other children or Alfred took Bruce’s side on the matter. Even Damian had been 100% on Jason's side.
Any attempt at negotiation had been a drastic failure.
So here he was, at another game night, waiting for the right moment to finally get over with it.
No one noticed how he was slightly more tense than normally, with maybe the exception of Clark, who kept sending him concerned glances every now and then. While Bruce would normally brush them off, he was now too busy pondering about his next move.
It wasn’t that Bruce disliked his coworkers. Not that much, at least. To be honest, it was slowly becoming the opposite, and it was slightly off-settling. The fact that Bruce caught himself nearly smiling at one of Oliver’s bad jokes was both concerning and frightening, considering that Oliver’s jokes were nowhere near laughable. And no matter how much he tried to push them away, their determination to include him never seemed to falter. It was rather heart warming as well as annoying, to say at least.
But revealing his identity, even to only one of them, felt like a huge leap into the unpredictable void of uncertainty. Bruce knew well enough that no one from the League would ever intentionally hurt him or his family in any way whatsoever, but even with that rational thought in mind, the nagging voice protesting in the back of his head wouldn’t quiet down.
He didn’t even know who’d he choose. Analytically, either Clark or Diana would be the safest option. Maybe even Ollie, if Bruce wanted to take the familiar route. Though this was not a situation that he could get over with by simply taking the easiest option. He had to take this matter seriously, for the lives of himself and his family could be changed forever.
Or perhaps he should just let the bottle take over and pick the fortunate one.
Batman found himself lost so deep in thought that he lost track of time, and before he knew it, seven minutes had already passed and Barry was suddenly seated back in his chair, running a hand down his slightly flushed face as Oliver clapped him on the shoulder in silent commendation.
“Okay, now whose turn is it?”
“That would finally be me, thank you very much.” Hal, ever the theatrical one, leapt to his feet in a rather unceremonious manner and made his way over to the bottle.
“Mirror mirror on the wall, who will be the luckiest of them all?” He dramatically boomed as he spun the bottle around with a construction of a giant hand.
Bruce’s eyes were fixed on the bottle, following its movement in suspense.
Then, all laughter and chatter died down when the bottle slowly but surely landed on Batman. All eyes were set on him, then on Hal, and then back on him once again.
Logically, Bruce knew very well that there was a chance that he’d get chosen for this game at some point during the evening. He figured that if that were the case, he’d just use that opportunity to remove the cowl in front of whoever would be with him with the intention of getting this over with as quickly as possible.
He had in all honestly not expected that this person would be Hal Jordan.
Bruce felt the corners of his mouth quirk up in a barely noticeable smile as he quickly shoved all of his alternative contingency plans into the back of his mind and replaced them with a new, more fun one instead. Maybe this whole identity reveal wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
_____________________
A long, rather awkward silence stretched over the room as no one dared to make a move.
Eyes flickered from left to right, but Hal kept his gaze trained on the brooding man before him, who didn’t even twitch when the bottle ended up pointing in his direction. Not that Hal expected him to, but still. A reaction would have been nice. Any reaction would’ve been better than the silence that followed the sharp inhalations. At least then he wouldn’t feel like he was being lured into a trap by Death herself.
Because of course, it would just be Hal’s bad luck to get paired up with Spooky, out of all people.
After returning from a five week space mission, it was needless to say that Hal was up for some human contact again. Space was fun, don’t get him wrong, but there’s only so long Hal can endure without the familiar banter and friendly hugs while helping out a civilization where physical contact was only allowed by those who were family.
So yeah, playing seven minutes in heaven was a great way to start making up for all that lost contact, Hal decided.
However, this is not how he expected it to go.
Hal mentally smacked himself in the face.
Why bottle, why?
While Hal didn’t want to come over like a complete jerk– though he truly wondered if Batman cared enough to be bothered– he had to admit that he was hoping for someone more… fun.
Because come on, it’s Batman. The guy seemed to be allergic to fun or anything even remotely related to it. Hal has never seen him crack a smile, or even just simply sit down and relax. The guy even showed up in full gear on game night, for God’s sake.
Not to mention that Hal didn’t even know what he looked like underneath the cowl. For all he knew, he could be some wrinkly old dude with nothing but serious issues and three divorces behind him. Although to be fair, that wouldn’t be too big of a problem for Hal, ‘cause it didn’t take one much to realise that the man was built like an absolute tank and had the body of a god, even without all those seemingly neverending layers of armor, but that wasn’t the point.
The point was that Hal would rather not spend seven painfully awkward minutes locked up in a closet with Batman.
A single cough broke the silence, and Hal found himself raising his eyebrows in anticipation. While his cowl revealed no emotion, Hal could still feel Batman’s piercing stare burning holes into his face from behind those eerie white lenses. It was almost like he was looking right through him.
“You don’t have to go if you don't want to, Batman,” Clark softly offered, and somewhere in the background Hal could hear Ollie protest, the sound muffled by Dinah’s hand slapping over his mouth.
“Yeah, maybe we should just- uh. Y’know,” Hal murmured. Unsure of what to do, he reached for the bottle to give it another spin. If Spooky wanted to pretend that nothing ever happened, then fine. Hal tried to ignore the odd stinging feeling in his chest.
Expecting nothing but a single grunt of probable confirmation from the Bat, Hal was completely and utterly caught off guard by the following words.
“I accept.”
All heads snapped towards the Gothamite, eyes either widened in surprise or mouths hanging agape out of pure shock. It was well known that Batman didn’t participate in games, let alone this one in particular. The room burst into hushed whispers and Hal felt like he was hit in the head with a giant sledgehammer, because no way he was hearing this right.
But before he even had the time to properly register Batman’s two simple words, the man himself had already risen to his feet and stalked his way to the door. Without even glancing back to make sure Hal was following him, he silently left and disappeared down the corridor.
Hal blinked. What the fuck.
For a few seconds, he remained frozen in his dumbfounded position as the gears in his brain turned at the speed of light, seemingly having a hard time to comprehend the situation, but then he felt himself being pushed out of the doorway by Barry with a quick, “Good luck, man.”
After a few more moments of bewilderment, Hal finally shook his head and used this ring to lift himself from the ground and chase after Spooky, who had now almost reached the cupboard that would soon be Hal’s grave. Hal noticed that his pace was slower than usual, probably on purpose. He felt his forehead crease. And yet they call him the dramatic one.
“Spooky, wait– hold on,” Hal called out, though Batman steps didn’t waver. “Dude, what the hell? Care to tell me what’s up with you today? First, you’re acting all broody and grumpier than usual, looking like you’re about to snap someone’s head off, and now you suddenly agree to playing games? Are you sick or something?”
He paused. “Wait, you’re not going to kill me, are you?” It wouldn’t surprise Hal if Batman made him the only exception to his rule of no killing by strangling him with a coat hanger or impaling his guts with a broomstick. Come to think of it, Batman killing him right now would suck enormously, as he’d planned to go out for a drink with Barry and Oliver on Saturday. They’d never forgive him if he died the evening before their well needed hang out.
Focus, Jordan. This isn’t a game.
“Is it not?” Batman briefly glanced back, and Hal softly cursed under his breath upon realizing that he had voiced that thought out loud.
Hal, finally deciding that he needed to gain the upperhand of this conversation, grabbed the Gothamite by his shoulder in an attempt to get him to actually face him, but in the blink of an eye, all the air was knocked out of his lungs as he was suddenly pushed into the cupboard and up against the wall, one gloved hand wrapped around his waist and the other placed on his neck with a firm yet gentle grip.
“What the–”
He was cut off when a set of ridiculously soft lips crashed into his, pulling him down in a deep, slow kiss as Hal let out a sound of surprise. His mind went completely blank for a moment, but he quickly found himself melting into the kiss, his arms wrapping around Batman’s neck to pull him even closer.
The kiss was nothing like Hal would’ve expected from the Batman– yes, he had fantasised about kissing the guy, sue him– In a way, it was almost like fine wine, heady as well as full of passion, and Hal felt tipsy just tasting the sweetness of those lips. Batman let out a pleased hum, and Hal’s knees threatened to buckle just by the sound alone.
Hal absolutely did not whine when the kiss was broken and Batman pulled away with a smug grin on his face, slightly panting as he did so.
Neither said a thing for a few moments, their faces only inches apart. Hal wanted to say something, anything, but he was left speechless, the words having died on the tip of his tongue.
“If I knew that one kiss was all it would take to get you to shut up, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” Batman chuckled, shaking his head in light amusement, and Hal felt his face flush at the flirty roughness that his voice held.
“You also could’ve just told me that you had the hots for me, you know,” Hal hoarsely mumbled, still a little breathless.
“Now, where’s the fun in that?” The Gothamite teased. “I personally find this way more enjoyable, hm?”
Damn Batman and damn him for setting Hal’s face on fire.
Hal let his hands drop down to Batman’s hips, tugging them and grabbing them tightly to ensure that the other wasn’t going to move away anytime soon.
“You sure you wanna do this?” Hal whispered in a low tone. “‘Cause once I start, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to back down.”
“I know. I’m sure,” Batman breathed, and in one swift motion removed the cowl. He carelessly let it drop to the floor, his ice blue eyes never breaking contact with Hal’s own brown ones.
Hal sucked in a sharp breath upon seeing his face, his lips parting in astonishment as his stomach did a complicated flip.
Okay, now this was just unfair. Why had no one ever warned him that Batman was dangerously beautiful?
Everything about this man was enchanting in a way Hal had never experienced before, and it was a lot to take in. His raven black hair, which had presumably been combed back before, fell in his face in loose strands, creating a sharp contrast between the ghostly pale skin and his hair.
But what struck Hal most were the inhumanly captivating eyes, which stood out even in this dimly lit room. It was almost like Hal found himself staring into the depths of a bottomless sea, full of secrets and concealed emotions.
It shouldn’t have attracted him as much as it did.
Hal could swear that his heart was only a few seconds away from pounding its way right through his ribcage. Batman’s look had an almost magnetic pull on him and Hal wanted nothing more than to reach out, but he appeared to be frozen in place, as if trapped under the other’s sharp gaze, eyeing him with want.
Hal paused. He was sure that he recognized him from somewhere, for his face felt all too familiar, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, think of where he could have possibly seen this man. A male model magazine, maybe? With a razor-sharp jawline like that, Hal wouldn’t be surprised he was indeed a model.
Batman slightly tilted his head and a faint frown appeared on his brow, his plump lips tightening around the edges. He was still patiently awaiting a verbal reaction from Hal, and while Hal was quite sure that his silence was probably sending this poor guy mixed signals, no sound would leave his stupid mouth, as his tongue felt heavy and his throat was now drier than an alien desert.
That left only one option.
Actions speaker louder than words or whatever the fuck his kindergarten teacher said.
Without a warning, Hal pulled the other man down to lock lips once again, and now it was Batman’s turn to get startled, though he recovered much quicker than Hal did. Asshole.
This kiss wasn’t like the first; this one was filled with pure hunger and newfound desire, a feeling that both men shared. The air shifted around them, and with a soft gasp, Hal allowed Batman to deepen the kiss, turning it into something more heated and demanding. He let his hands run through Batman’s hair as the other’s tongue pushed past Hal’s lips, earning a shudder and a low grunt in response.
And as they grew more and more detached from their surroundings whilst exploring each other’s mouth, they both somehow ended up slumped to the floor, Batman having Hal pretty much pinned down.
“So, what do I call you, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome?” Hal purred in between kisses, not even trying to ignore the way Batman’s knee was positioned dangerously close to his crotch.
Batman paused and shot him a funny look.
“What? You don’t want me screaming the wrong name now, do you?” He smirked.
“Bruce,” He eventually huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards ever so slightly before returning to that familiar growl. “Now shut up.”
Hal happily obliged as Bruce eagerly closed the gap between them once again.
_____________________
“Maybe we should check if Hal’s still alive,” Barry thought out loud, swirling his drink in his hand and then downing it in less than a second. “It’s been nearly ten minutes. Do you think that Batman was planning this all along to secretly take out Green Lantern and replace him with an evil clone? Like, it wouldn’t surprise me if he rigged the bottle somehow. He’s Batman.”
Oliver scoffed. “That’d be way too obvious. If Batman really were to clone Hal, he probably already did it without us having the slightest clue.”
“...Shit, what if I was a clone and I didn’t know it?”
“Dude, you need help.”
Diana chuckled at the childlike banter between the two, eyes glistening with amusement. “I think that we could tell if you were a duplicate, Barry. Your rather… exotic nature would be hard to replicate.
“Anyways, seven minutes have long since passed and they still haven’t returned. I think that it would be fair of us to go get them if we want to continue this enjoyable evening with everybody present.”
“Yeah, I say we free Hal from his sentence before he’s damaged beyond repair. I’ve seen what ten minutes with the Bat can do to a man.” Barry dramatically shuddered. “Trust me when I say those men won’t ever be able to walk again.”
But before Barry even had the chance to get to his feet and dash towards the closet, he was stopped by a strong hand on his bicep.
Clark, whose ears had tinged into a furious shade of red, awkwardly cleared his throat. “I don’t think you want to go in there right now.”
Everybody stared at him in question, not quite processing the meaning behind his carefully chosen words.
Then, it all simultaneously clicked.
“Are they–?”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, right?”
“No way.”
Clark nodded, keeping his eyes downcast in clear discomfort.
Thud. Oliver was out cold.