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Hal isn’t quite sure why he’s here - he doesn’t remember how he even got here, or where here even is, for that matter - but he does know that, at least right now, his hormone fueled teenage brain doesn’t want to be anywhere else.
He looks into the reflective surface of something shiny - some weird looking device right out of a sci-fi novel that he can’t name - and messes up his slightly-too-long hair just enough to look intentional instead of bed-headed. He checks his teeth - clean, not a stray green in sight. Good. He even tries to covertly cover his mouth with his hand and smell his breath, which is surprisingly still minty-fresh, though it’s… different, than his regular toothpaste smell. Or maybe he’s imagining things. Maybe he was imagining everything, and this was just a dream.
He hoped the stupidly handsome boy in the corner of the room wasn’t just a dream.
Right. He could totally do this.
“I’m just saying, we should keep them separate, just in case they start a fight,” The tall, blonde man in a stupid green outfit that screamed ‘Robin Hood’s less fashionable cousin’, mutters to a man covered head to toe in red. They look like something out of his superhero comic books, and it’s a little embarrassing. For them, obviously. Hal doesn’t get embarrassed.
(At least, that’s what everyone always tells him, since he’s bold and brash and tends to just go for things and worry about how he looks later… but he does always worry later, when no one else is looking, anymore.)
Hal ignores them, mostly, eyeing the black-haired boy that was sitting at the table, looking lost, bewildered, and kinda angry, judging by his furrowed brows. He looks… haunted. But still very, very attractive.
And, look, Hal is still figuring out the whole thing where he would see a cute guy and immediately feel his heart racing - he knows that’s supposed to only happen with girls, apparently - but he isn’t near anyone who knows him, right now. His mom and brothers, his school mates, anyone who could whisper behind his back… none of them are here. And this boy is the cutest boy Hal has ever seen. Something in him had just screamed when he first saw him, and wouldn’t stop. So, Hal figures now is the perfect time for one of his, ‘talk now, think later’ plans.
Ignoring whatever the weird adults are saying, Hal purposefully struts over to the other teen, giving him the charming grin he had practiced too many times in the mirror when planning to ask out Cindy Morrison to the homecoming dance.
“Hey,” He says, proud and incredibly thankful when his voice doesn't crack, “I’m Hal.”
The teenager looks over at him, clearly assessing him, and for a moment, it rubs Hal the wrong way - like he’s been assessed before and found lacking - but then those sharp blue eyes seem to hesitate, and falter, and then the boy is saying, “I’m Bruce.”
“Bruce, huh? Good name,” Hal nods. He has no idea if Bruce is a good name or not, really, but it’s something he’s heard people say, and it’s the type of compliment that won’t have people shouting slurs at him, and frankly, he thinks it sounds pretty nice on his own lips.
“I guess,” Bruce shrugs, “Is Hal short for Harold?”
“Eh, lucky guess,” Hal laughs. He doubts it was a lucky guess at all; he’s pretty sure that’s the standard nickname for Harold, but he also has never met another Harold, so he can’t be sure, “Please don’t call me Harold, though. Makes me sound like an old man.”
“I guess,” Bruce says again. Hal flops into the chair beside him.
“So, any idea what all… that, is about?” He asks the boy conspiratorially. Bruce’s gaze immediately goes over to the adults, but he hesitates before answering. He’s studying them, while Hal keeps his gaze firmly on Bruce.
“Not sure,” Bruce mutters, “But I’m pretty sure they know us. Or… a version of us? They keep talking about us like we’re not here. Something went wrong. They’re not sure what to do with us.”
He hunches in on himself, a little bit, “They won’t let me call my- Alfred. They, uh, won’t let me call Alfred. It’s concerning.”
“That your step-dad or something?”
“...Or something.”
“Huh. Yeah, they won’t let me call my mom, either. Which is weird. And kinda suspicious, really.”
“This whole situation is suspicious,” Bruce frowns at the adults again, “They refuse to give straight answers to my questions, and I cannot actually remember how I got here. Which infers some sort of chemical drugging or medical amnesia. Seeing as how we didn’t wake up in hospital beds, though, that last one is less likely.”
Hal, as always, lets his mouth run before he can think better of it, picking out the least important bit of that entire statement to comment on, “Maybe they aren’t straight.”
He pales a bit, but tries to joke around it, “Get it? Because they won’t give a straight answer? Haha…”
Bruce looks at him fully, and Hal swallows at the judgement in his gaze.
“If you’re intending to find comradery by use of homophobic insults, then you can kindly get the fuck away from me,” Bruce says, far more serious than Hal expected. In fact, Hal just blinks at him for a moment, his heart doing… something in his chest, before he forces himself to look at the table.
He plays with a loose thread on his pants, leg bouncing as he whispers, “I’m not- that wasn’t- sorry.”
Bruce studies him for a moment longer before his shoulders collapse, a bit. He seems to see something in Hal, but when he opens his mouth to ask, or confirm, or whatever, it all just sort of… slips out of Hal, instead.
“I-might-be-gay,” Hal whispers the words too fast, and they set his face ablaze with heat. He’s never told anyone that, before - hasn’t really even considered the possibility, really, with all the hiding he’s been doing from his own emotions. For some reason, it just keeps spilling out in front of Bruce, “Or, I mean- I like girls. I do, but-”
“But you like guys, too?” Bruce asks, sounding far more hopeful than he seems to have intended, judging by his own blush. Hal nods, entranced by the colour of the boy’s cheeks, and because he’s outright staring, he sees the way Bruce looks almost embarrassed as he chokes out, “M-me too. I think. It’s…”
“Complicated?” Hal suggests. Bruce nods.
They sit in silence before Hal mutters, “I’ve… never told anyone that before.”
“Neither have I,” Bruce says back. They’ve migrated towards each other, shoulders nearly touching, heads bent towards each other conspiratorially.
“I feel like my family might get mad,” Hal says, licking his lips, “I’ve… I’ve seen other kids get kicked out of school for it.”
“Yeah,” Bruce agrees, but doesn’t elaborate. Hal clears his throat, which catches Bruce’s attention.
With those pretty blues staring at him, Hal loses all rational thought, completely, and simply blurts out, “Wanna make out?”
There is silence surrounding their little personal bubble, the mutterings of the adults completely in the background. For a moment, Hal feels horrifyingly mortified… and then Bruce gets a slightly manic grin on his face that is far more charming than it has any right to be.
“Sure,” He says, “For science. We can’t know for sure if we don’t test it out, right?”
Hal is pretty sure his stomach is back in California, doing a little dance and maybe even some flips, but he grins back and says, “Totally. For science.”
-
“Where did they go?” Flash asks, looking over at the abandoned table and frowning, “I swear, they were just here!”
“Supes?” Oliver asks, and Superman nods, listening for the sound of Bruce and Hal’s voices or heartbeats- only to turn bright red and stumble over nothing even though he had been standing still.
“You alright, there, Superman?” Flash asks, concerned, “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing!” Superman coughs, “They’re, uh, they’re fine. We should just… give them a minute. Or ten.”
“But Zatanna will be here to fix them any second, now-”
Superman tries not to listen to the young, boyish giggles that are coming from the nearby closet as he vehemently insists, “It can wait. I promise you, it can wait.”