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Most days, Hal loves being a Green Lantern. Loves the thrill, the adventure, the sense of purpose and importance that came from being chosen to protect not only the small sector of space Earth was nestled in, but the galaxy as a whole.
The Green Lantern Corps gave him everything when he was nothing; it gave him flight again. But for all it gave, the ring took just as much. From his job to his apartment, Carol.
Though if Hal’s honest with himself, he hadn’t needed the ring for that; no, he’d have always fucked that one up all on his own. Just like he fucked everything else up.
Hal loves being a Lantern; it’s who he is, without the ring—he doesn’t even want to think about that.
He loves being a Lantern, but sometimes weeks away from home in the cold vacuum of space take their toll. It takes and takes from him, always demanding more until he has nothing left to give but the weariness in his soul and the sting in his aging bones.
Times like the last two months of Hal’s life, jumping through the Guardian’s ridiculous hoops, dealing with self-righteous alien royalty and seemingly everyone in the galaxy wanting his head on a platter, allies included.
Not that he could blame them.
Guy, John, and Kyle would always have his back, but even they couldn't do it 24/7, and after so long away, Hal ached for the comfort of home. Exhaustion had snuck up on him weeks ago, worming into his veins and seeping into his joints until every step was a Herculean effort.
Hal longs for nothing more than to collapse face-first into the closest soft enough surface and sleep until his body hates him more than it does now. Yet the second he touches down on the Watchtower, taking those first few steps on solid floor after flying for so long, all dreams of pillows and cosy blankets evaporate, replaced with one simple thought that puts a slight spring in his step and an embarrassingly childlike giddiness to his chest—you.
For so long, Hal had thought Carol was the one, his one shot at true love and happiness. People said even the word marriage, said in jest, was enough to send him running for the hills, but if anyone were to make it happen, it would’ve been Carol.
That was, until you. You were everything Hal could ever want and more. At first, he’d tried to hate you, convinced there was no way you were real. You were too perfect, like you’d been carefully crafted to fulfil his every desire.
But to Hal’s great dismay, you just were that perfect for him. The initial realisation was enough to send him straight to Oa for an extended stay, as he tried to will those pesky feelings away.
It wasn’t cowardly of him. It wasn’t!
It was for the best. You were a good, kind soul, and he would inevitably taint you with his love. Even if, by some god-given miracle, you loved him back, Hal would inevitably be the chain that dragged you down into the mud with him, and he refused to ever let that happen.
Alas, the absence had only made his heart grow ten times fonder. It hadn’t helped that you’d been waiting for his return with open arms, a smile rivalling the intensity of the sun’s brightness displayed just for him.
“Hal! Welcome back!” You’d excitedly exclaimed before nearly leaping into his chest for a hug. Squeezing him tight until he could barely breathe before relaxing, paying no mind to his robotically stiff movements as he slowly hugged you back. Then softer, just for him, you’d whispered, “I missed you.”
And just like that, Hal knew he was unequivocally and irrevocably fucked.
From then on, you’d somehow managed to be one of the first to greet him upon his return to Earth, a sunny smile and warm hug waiting just for him, without fail.
Only, as Hal navigates the expanse of the watchtower, his excitement dims, replaced with a sickening wash of anxiety because you’re nowhere to be found. His steps falter, a frown marring his face, his heart pounding as he hurries.
“Hal! You’re back!” Barry’s smile is surprised, but no less glad to see him. Later, Hal will regret not reciprocating his best friend’s energy, but for now, all his exhaustion-laden brain can focus on is you, or rather, the annoying lack of you.
“Barry—”
“Metropolis.” The blonde cuts him off, smile shifting into something softer—knowing.
“What—”
“She’s in Metropolis, with Superman.” Barry points to the monitors, which Hal suddenly realises have drawn the rapt gazes of a handful of colourfully costumed individuals he hadn’t even registered while searching for you. He briefly catches a glimpse of Ollie and Dinah across the room, but his attention is quickly drawn back to the display on the large screens.
It’s you. And Superman. You and Superman together. You're nestled safely in Superman’s arms, your arms thrown around his neck for balance as you smile softly at each other, words too soft-spoken for the cameras to pick up.
No warnings or disclaimers, just you and Clark enacting something from a trashy romance novel on the news for god and everyone to see.
He hears a feminine squeal from somewhere to his left. Hal’s unsure who exactly; he doesn’t care to look. Can’t tear his eyes away from the sickening scene playing out in front of him as his heart pounds furiously in his ears. “They’re so cute together, wouldn’t they just make the perfect couple?”
“What?!” He shrieks, drawing multiple sets of eyes, as Barry laughs nervously, waving off the attention, while Hal rapidly cycles through the stages of grief.
“Hey, what do you say we get something to eat? I’m starving. Are you starving? You must be starving!” Barry rambles, tugging Hal by the arm until they’re well out of sight from prying eyes.
Despite Barry’s best efforts, the sight of you and fucking Superman, every woman’s stupidly muscular wet dream, is seared into his brain. Playing on the backs of his eyelids as he attempts sleep, the sweet, innocent scene morphs into something decidedly X-rated, leaving Hal waking with murderous intent and a traitorous boner.
Hal could excuse it happening once. (No, he couldn’t; Clark was still on the top of his shitlist even if he feigned confusion. You know what you did, Clark!)
But twice? And for what? A spar with Wonder Woman? Sure, you might not have even known he was back —too busy cosying up to Superman, as you were —nor were you aware of his presence on the Watchtower currently. Still, Diana?
Following Oliver’s directions to the watchtower training room, he purposefully ignores his friend's teasing tone, not rising to the bait even as his mood plummets to rock bottom.
Rock bottom, as it turns out, is not the news that you were avoiding him in favour of a literal princess everyone was half in love with. No, it’s the sight of you sweaty and dishevelled, pinned beneath powerful Amazonian muscles in a shot straight from a Justice League porno he swears he’s seen.
Diana holds your wrists above your head with one hand, thighs bracketing yours as she smiles down at you with half-lidded lashes, and— why isn’t anyone stopping this?!
Clearly the fight's over; you can get up now!
“Oh, to be their third.” Some newbie he doesn’t even recognise sighs wistfully, and something in Hal snaps.
“They’re not even together!”
Diana pulls you to your feet with ease when you hear his voice, and you perk up like a puppy as you instantly turn to locate him. “Hal!” Uncaring of the audience, you run across the room and leap into his already open arms.
Hal easily encases you in his arms, tension fleeing his frame as he squeezes you tightly against him. Greedily, he drinks in your warmth, burying his face in your neck.
“Gross, Hal, I’m all sweaty.” You laugh, but don’t let go, letting that small, pathetic flame of hope burn bright in his heart that you might feel the same.
“I don’t care, I’ve missed you.” He whispers, all too aware of the watchful gazes, but for once, too exhausted to care. There’s a beat, and dread fills his soul as he begins to pull away; he’s stepped too far, he’s—
“I’ve missed you too. Welcome home.”
Yeah, Hal thinks, as your arms tighten around him, home.
Hal hates monitor duty.
It’s beyond boring, and after weeks away from home, the last thing he wants is to spend hours in front of the League monitor, dispatching other heroes to deal with the action while he waits for the off chance of some apocalyptic-scale event.
You’re not even rostered together. Hal wouldn’t put it past Bruce to have noticed how much likelier Hal was to do work with you by his side in an effort to impress; he also wouldn’t put it past the ridiculously petty man to take you away as punishment — punishment this was—because his partner for the next few hours was none other than Booster Gold.
Dragging his feet, Hal mentally prepares himself to deal with Booster’s nonsense, only for his brow to furrow and his feet to pick up the pace when he notices the crowd drawn around the screens, watching.
He’s about to ask what all the commotion is when the footage from the news crew suddenly pans past distressed civilians and cop cars to show you, a little ruffled but seemingly ok, and so unfairly gorgeous. A black, silk dress clings to your skin. Sleeveless to show muscled arms from years of hero work, and as you turn a little, Hal’s breath hitches when he realises it’s backless too.
Suddenly the camera zooms in closer as a man appears at your side, shrugging off an undoubtedly expensive suit jacket to cover your shoulders. His eye twitches, seething jealousy swirling in his chest as Bruce fucking Wayne throws an arm around you, leading you away from the cameras as the two of you whisper to each other, faces far too close for Hal’s liking.
“He’s so smooth with it.” Booster sighs, almost wistfully (?), chin leaning on his fist as he looks up at the monitors.
“What?” Several people stare at the blond in bewilderment as he holds his hands up defensively.
“Don’t lie to me! We’ve all thought about fucking Bruce Wayne!”
“Who is we?” Victor denies it, instantly thinking back to his Teen Titan days and Nightwing’s reaction.
Thank you. Hal thinks, only to turn and stare at a suspiciously silent Barry before whirling on Booster once more, “I bet he’s not even as great as everyone says he is. Probably pays people to spread that rumour.”
“No, no, he’s pretty great at that,” Oliver murmurs, almost unintentionally, as all attention falls to him. As chaos explodes around him at the archer’s statement, a hand wraps around Hal’s bicep, pulling him a little away from the crowd.
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Zatanna smiles softly, cocking her head at the screens. “Bruce, that is.”
“I have no idea what you’re…” At the unimpressed look on her face, Hal slumps, sighing as he lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “How did you…?”
“A woman knows. Besides, you’re hardly subtle.” She teases, before her gaze softens a little. “I meant it, you don’t have to worry about Bruce, we’ve all known each other since we were kids. They’re more like siblings than anything else.”
Hal thinks back to the uncharacteristically soft look on Bruce’s face as he led you away from the cameras, the way you leaned into his touch, and finds Zatanna’s words a lot less comforting than they should be.
“I just don’t get what you see in him. You could have anyone you wanted and—” Hal freezes, call of your name dying on his tongue as he overhears the tail end of your conversation with Vixen. His smile dimmed as the implications sank in.
Luckily, neither of you has seen him yet as Hal slowly steps back, slinking into the wall to hear your response.
“I doubt that,” you scoffed, shoving Vixen playfully before your demeanour shifts, “I really like him, Mar. He’s sweet, sweeter than you all seem to think, and he makes me laugh.” Something bashful in your tone makes his frown deepen.
Who was the clown making you laugh? That was his job!
Mari looked equally unimpressed. “Girl, what is he? A comedian? There has to be more than that.”
“Ok fine! He listens to me, even when I’m rambling about silly things that I know he doesn’t care about; he makes me feel like the most important person in the world when we’re together. And—” you pause, fingers twiddling with the hem of your suit sleeve, a nervous habit of yours, “he makes me feel safe.”
“Wow, you’ve got it bad.” Mari’s teasing grin drops, eyes widening because at some point Hal’s feet had started moving without his brain’s input until he was standing behind you, mouth open but no sound coming out.
Shit. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“Mar, what are you—” Following her eyes, you turn in your seat only to stammer at the sight of him, “Hal! What—how much did you hear?”
“Enough.” He mumbled, voice hoarse as he cleared his throat. Your face drops even further, eyes wide and panicked as you hold your hands up.
“Wait, I can—”
“No!” He exclaims, guilt nearly overwhelming him when you flinch back in dismay, face full of hurt. “I mean, I got something to say; please just listen.”
You try to relax a little, taking in the incredibly uncharacteristic tension in his frame. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was almost nervous. Your heart sinks; you already know he’s trying to figure out some way to reject you, to let you down easily so as not to hurt your feelings, but if you’re being honest, you’d much rather he just rip the band-aid off. Break your heart so you can start putting it back together again, without the devastating reminder of his kindness in even doing that.
You nod, smoothing your sweaty palms over your thighs. “Ok—” No sooner is the word past your lips than Hal drops to his knees before you, taking your hands in his slightly trembling ones.
“I’m in love with you!” He exclaims, much louder than he meant to.
“Hal—”
“No! Just, just listen to me!” He interrupts, desperation lacing his tone. “I know you like someone else, and he’s probably a way better guy for you than I could ever be… but I just—I needed to tell you how much you mean to me. The thought of you, of your smile, your laughter, sometimes it’s the only thing that helps me get up in the morning. That the thought of you with someone else is—it’s agony.”
You’re deathly silent, eyes wide and disbelieving as you stare down at Hal with an expression he can't read for the first time in years.
He clears his throat, averting his gaze as he stands, trying to brush off the blatant rejection with what little pride remains.
“Hal,” you call, softer this time, as your fingers catch his, keeping him from pulling away as you tug him closer.
The second his head turns, you lean in, pressing your lips to his as your free hand reaches up, cupping the back of his neck as your fingers idly play with his hair. All too soon, you’re pulling away, resting your forehead against his as you giggle. “It’s you, you idiot. I was talking about you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” You laughed as Hal pouted.
“Ok, I’m going to kiss you again now, and we’re going to forget how badly I just embarrassed myself.”
Not likely. You think, amused, even as you nod and kiss him again.
Later, you’d try to find out why he seemed to think so little of himself, but for now, you were happy to finally kiss the man you’d loved for longer than you cared to admit to yourself, and hopefully, he’d start to see himself the way you did.
And if not, you were happy to prove how much you loved him, starting now.