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Hal glares down at his glass, swirling around the liquid and examining the small vortex that motion creates.
Maybe if he focuses on it hard enough, he'll be able to convince himself that everything is fine, that he doesn't want to send Clark a text telling him he's done and sayonara, see you at the next world-ending event that Hal will be obligated to show up for. The League has two other Green Lanterns, after all. Hal doesn't have to be on the actual roster, it's not necessary. What would change, really? He'd certainly have some more downtime.
And he wouldn't have to see Bruce Fucking Wayne ever again.
Where does he get off, anyway? Bossing them all around? Hal doesn't give a shit if Bruce is usually the one with the plan, that doesn't give him the right to act like he's king of the universe and point out all their flaws and what they did wrong on a goddamn successful mission. The fact that anyone puts up with it without losing their minds is beyond Hal's comprehension.
Clark and Diana must be fucking him, right? That's the only explanation for their endless patience, how they never seem to get frustrated with Bruce's notes, only mildly exasperated. Hell maybe Bruce is fucking the entire fucking League, with the way they all follow his orders!
And, okay, that probably doesn't make much sense, but Hal is angry and has just enough of a buzz to really heighten all of his emotions. Maybe it wasn't the best plan to go drinking. Ollie had invited him to go cool off and Barry had invited him over for dinner; he probably should've accepted one of their offers. That way he wouldn't be buzzed in some random bar in some random city actually considering turning in his membership card.
Barry would know what to say to calm him down. Ollie would know what to say to let him get the ranting out of his system.
Instead he's here alone, pissed at the world and Bruce Wayne and himself for never managing to ruffle the Bat's feathers the way he ruffles his.
Because see, Bruce seems to consistently be at least mildly irritated with him. But he's never pissed. He's never furious or angry or ready to throw a punch. He is never much of anything with Hal, and that rankles. Hal wants to see him lose his cool, wants to see that blank expression get wiped off his face, that control ripped away from him. Hal wants to be the cause of that; see how Bruce feels then.
He forces himself to take a few deep breaths. He really should stop drinking. He should go home. Things will be—not better, maybe, but at least calmer in the morning.
Instead of doing anything reasonable he chugs the last gulps of his beer, orders another one, and glances around the bar.
There's some sort of birthday party going on at the back of the bar, a party that involves a lot of young people slamming back shots and cheering. There's a group of barely-sober men hanging around the pool table, one of them keeping himself upright only by his grip on his pool cue. There's a handful of scantily clad women who seem to be celebrating something, but Hal really can't tell what.
Eyeing some of the women, Hal considers whether or not he might just need a fuck. That'll sure relax him, and let him get some of his energy out in a...productive way. The redhead seems to be checking him out; that could be promising.
One of the birthday party kids breaks away from the group, walking over to the bar at a light jog. He's pretty, Hal notes, and dressed in sinfully tight clothes that certainly show off his muscles and his ass.
Hal finds himself admiring as the kid leans over the bar to ask the bartender for another round of shots, a dazzling smile on his face. As he waits for the bartender to fill the order, his gaze sweeps around the bar, locking eyes with Hal when he looks his direction.
Hal offers him his best charming smile. The kid's expression shifts into surprise, and then delighted amusement. He closes the distance between them, plopping down onto the barstool beside Hal.
"Funny running into you," the kid says, grinning, and Hal blinks, confused. Do they know each other?
When he asks as much, the kid's smile turns wry. "It has been a few years. But you, uh, work with my dad."
Hal's brain record-scratches. Because now he recognizes those features, even if they're far more...grown up than the last time he saw him. This is Robin—wait, no, Nightwing. He's been Nightwing for...a few years now, right? Yeah, Bruce has turned up with a couple Robins since the first kid.
And maybe kid isn't the term for him, really. Sure, he's young, but at least in his twenties considering he's out drinking, right? He's...damn, he's really pretty, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright from the alcohol, clothes practically painted on and leaving nothing to the imagination.
Hal can't help the way his gaze strays, sliding down Nightwing's body—shit, what was his name?—mouth watering just a little at the idea of getting him out of those clothes. And when he looks back up to Nightwing's face, he finds the younger man looking at him with wide eyes, cheeks slightly more flushed than they were a minute ago. He's biting his lip. Is he checking Hal out too?
Well, damn. Always nice to see interest reciprocated.
Wait, fuck. This is Batman's kid, he cannot be thinking about fucking Batman's kid. Bruce would actually attempt murder—
Huh. Bruce is very protective of his kids. He would be pissed if he knew Hal was looking at his son like this. And if Hal actually did something about it—he can't even imagine the fury.
This is an awful idea. If Barry were here, he'd be pulling Hal away. Even Oliver would be saying no to this. It is such a bad idea. Bruce might actually kill him.
But Hal is pissed off, himself, and just buzzed enough that this awful idea is actually sounding pretty damn great. Besides, Nightwing is looking pretty damn great.
Hal widens his smile just a little, turning up the charm. Carol used to say that Hal was about as charming as a block of wood until he wanted to be, and then he could charm the pants off just about anyone.
He really hopes she was right, because there's a very specific pair of pants he wants to get into and this failing would suck.
"Sorry," Hal says, "I just didn't recognize you so grown up! You've got to be, what, twenty-five by now?"
Nightwing grins. "Actually, today is my twenty-first. We're out celebrating."
He gestures back towards the people he was celebrating with, and now that Hal has context, he can see Roy amongst the group. Shit, no way he won't tell Oliver. Then again, considering Hal wants Bruce to find out, it's unlikely that Bruce will just keep it to himself. It's likely that the whole League will know.
That really should be more of a deterrent than it is.
Hal whistles, feigning impress. "Damn, you don't look it. And I guess congratulations are in order! Twenty-one is a big year. You can do just about anything at twenty-one."
"In some states I can't rent a car," Nightwing says teasingly, but he seems pleased with the compliment. "But...yeah, it is a pretty big year. At least so my friends tell me! They decided to take me out and get me trashed."
Hal takes a sip of his beer and glances the kid over; he definitely looks intoxicated, but not quite trashed. He's stringing sentences together just fine, after all, and his coordination seems perfectly intact. Coherent enough that he can consent, once Hal convinces him. Drunk enough that convincing him won't be that hard.
"Good friends," Hal says with a grin. "But don't let them get you into too much trouble. I mean, for my twenty-first birthday, I..." He trails off, pulls on a chagrined look. "Well, I got up to some mischief, that's for sure. But you're far more responsible than I ever was."
Nightwing's eyebrows go up, amused. "You haven't met me since I was seventeen, how do you know I'm responsible?"
Hal sends him an incredulous look, tinging it with a bit of awe. "You kidding? You're legendary."
The kid blinks, looking dumbfounded. "I—what?"
"Everyone knows what a great hero you are," Hal says. "I don't need to have spoken to you in the last few years to be impressed by you; everyone is impressed by you. You're an excellent leader, fighter, tactician, and just about a million other things. People sing your praises."
At least this part Hal isn't really lying about. Nightwing does have an excellent reputation. Just about everyone in the universe trusts him and likes him, something the boy's mentor never managed to receive. Hal might be overdoing it at the moment, but given how flustered the kid looks now, he's on the right track.
Fuck, what is his name? It's going to bite him in the ass very soon if he can't remember. It was something dirty, wasn't it? Yeah, Hal remembers withholding a joke when Bruce introduced him, because the kid's name sounded slightly like—
Dick! Of course! Damn, how could he forget a name like that? Oliver would be appalled.
"Wow," Dick says, a tad breathless. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, and his smile is pleased, slightly bashful. "That's—pretty great to hear. Thank you, Hal."
"You're welcome, Dick," Hal says, and offers the kid a warm, engaging smile. Dick's own widens. "Hey, Bruce is always so tight-lipped about you; what do you do?"
Dick's face lights up, excited to talk about his job, just as Hal knew he would be. He overheard Roy talking once, saying that the Bat's kid had chosen a path Bruce didn't exactly approve of, but that the kid was really proud of.
More power to him, in Hal's book.
As Dick talks, Hal makes all the appropriate listening noises in all the right places, encouraging Dick to go on, tossing in small compliments and questions here and there. The kid soaks it all in, in a way that is partially because he's not sober and partially something else. Hal has his suspicions about what that something else might be—Bruce isn't exactly a warm and fuzzy father, and if he already doesn't like Dick's job then he probably never gives Dick the opportunity to talk about it—and he's more than happy to play into it.
"It sounds like you're really helping make Bludhaven better," Hal says after a while, when Dick's words have begun to wind down. "You should be proud of yourself, Dick. Hell I've only been talking to you for fifteen minutes and I'm proud of you."
Dick's eyes are glowing and he bites his lip, drawing Hal's gaze down to his mouth before flicking back up. Dick's leaning in slightly, has been for maybe the last five minutes, and Hal watches the boy's eyes follow the motion of his tongue when he wets his lips.
And now comes the very careful balance. Because Dick seems like a very sweet kid, one who likes to be romanced and dated, but Hal doesn't have time for that, nor does he have any interest. He's not here to date Dick, he's here to fuck him, and maybe leave a few marks that Bruce will be forced to look at for a while. So to convince Dick to come back to his apartment, he needs to make the kid think there's more here.
He's been doing pretty well so far if he does say so himself.
"Thanks," Dick murmurs, resting his head against his fist, elbow braced on the bar. "That means a lot, coming from a Green Lantern."
"You could be one, easy," Hal declares.
Dick laughs, delighted. "You think so?"
"I do," Hal says. "You're certainly strong-willed enough, and already have far more of a sense of justice than I did when the ring chose me. I wouldn't be surprised if when one of us kicks the bucket you get a floating piece of jewelry that refuses to leave you alone."
Dick laughs again, and kicks his leg out, lightly kicking Hal's own. "You're a charmer, aren't you?"
Hal winks at him. "For those worth charming."
Dick's lips part, he draws in a breath, but whatever he's about to say is cut off by someone approaching them and throwing an arm around Dick's shoulders.
"Hey, Hal," Roy greets, smiling sharply. "How're you doing?"
Hal suppresses a grimace. He really doesn't want to have to deal with a protective friend right now, especially not Roy. He's so close to getting Dick to leave with him, and Roy stepping in could ruin all of that.
"Roy," Hal greets in turn, but keeps his expression relaxed, content. No negative emotions that would make Dick think something is wrong. "Good to see you! I hear you guys are having a good night."
"We are," Roy agrees. "So good in fact that everyone is missing the birthday boy! C'mon, Dickie, your adoring fans await."
Dick grins and shakes his head. "Weren't you the one encouraging me to go talk to someone? Wally and Donna, too. Everyone will survive without me."
"Yeah, but—" Roy starts, eyes flicking briefly towards Hal, and Hal knows what Roy means; he was encouraging Dick to go talk to a stranger, a stranger far closer to him in age. Not the thirty-five-year-old Green Lantern with a bit of a reputation and a well-known dislike of his father. Not Hal.
"I'm fine, Roy," Dick interrupts, and pats Roy's hand where it rests on his shoulder. "I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself. I'm having a good time."
"Me too," Hal agrees, and Dick sends him a warm smile. Roy looks like he's swallowed something sour.
"Dick," Roy says seriously.
"Roy," Dick returns in a mockingly serious voice. He nudges Roy's arm off. "Seriously, I'm fine. Go back to the party, have fun."
Roy really doesn't look like he wants to leave, but he sighs sharply and does so anyway, turning and heading back towards the waiting group of people. Dick watches him go for a few seconds before turning back to look at Hal with a smile.
"I did mean it," the kid says, so fucking earnestly. "I'm having a really good time talking with you."
Hal reaches out, tucking a lock of Dick's hair behind his ear, and then leaving his hand cupping his cheek. Dick leans into the touch, eyes sparkling.
"I meant it too," Hal murmurs. "I'd like to take you out sometime, if that's okay."
A crooked smile tilts Dick's lips, tongue darting out to wet them. Hal's eyes track the motion. "Yeah, I'd like that."
"Yeah?" Hal asks, leaning in slightly.
Dick hesitates for a moment before he seems to square his shoulders. He nods, and then closes the distance between them, pressing his lips against Hal's.
Hal cheers inside his head and lifts his other hand, settling it on Dick's hip. Dick's a pretty good kisser, Hal notes pleasantly, and parts his lips easily when Hal swipes his tongue over them, requesting entry. He deepens the kiss and scoots off his stool, stepping between Dick's legs, and Dick doesn't resist, tilting his head up to keep kissing him.
Eventually, Hal breaks the kiss, but doesn't pull back, allowing them to share the same breath. Dick blinks his eyes open, and his gaze is searching as it flicks back and forth between Hal's eyes.
"So," Hal says softly. "Would you be interested in maybe leaving with me? We could go flying. And maybe do other things."
Dick grins at him, amused. "And others things," he echoes teasingly, and Hal only smiles. "Yeah, okay. Take me flying, GL."
Hal keeps the smugness off of his face, instead stepping back to allow Dick to stand, and then taking his hand and leading him out of the bar. He takes him around to the back where they'll be hidden and calls his Green Lantern uniform to form around him, domino mask appearing over his eyes. Dick watches with some level of fascination and something that looks like calculation, too.
Once a Bat, always a Bat, Hal figures.
Dick doesn't argue when Hal picks him up in a rather unique way, instead of on his back or bridal carry having Dick wrap his legs around his waist, one of his own arms around Dick's back and the other under his ass. Dick looks torn between amusement and what might be arousal, and simply tightens his grip, arms going around Hal's neck.
"Ready?" Hal checks, and upon Dick's confirming nod, lifts off.
He takes things slow, making sure to get up high to get a great view of the city. New York, he realizes. He hadn't really had a specific destination when he left the Watchtower, simply any place that had a bar. But now he's pleased that it was this place, because not only did it bring him to Dick, but it also means he has a killer view to show the kid; New York sure does look beautiful from up high.
Hal leans them back until he's horizontal in the air. Dick adjusts his weight automatically, his grip loosening slightly now that he's firmly in the air simply by being on top of Hal, and smiles at him.
"This is amazing," he says, eyes drifting over the city far below them. There's no sign of nervousness or fear in him, which Hal can admit to being impressed by.
Hal reaches up, running his hand through Dick's hair and then tugging him gently. Dick goes willingly, leaning down and kissing him, shifting so that he's straddling Hal's hips.
And now Hal has to think of what to do next. Because his apartment in Coast City is a three hour flight away, and that's simply not feasible. He could have Dick take them to his, but something about that makes him uncomfortable. A hotel would be the last option, but Dick might be really curious about why the hell they're wasting money on a hotel room when his apartment in Bludhaven is right there.
Hal withholds a sigh; Dick's apartment it is, then.
"You're welcome to backseat drive," Hal says with a teasing grin. "In the direction of Bludhaven, maybe?"
Dick chuckles and nods, pressing a light kiss to Hal's cheek before glancing around and pointing the way towards his city.
When they reach Dick's apartment building, the kid lets them in through his living room window, sending a chagrined smile at Hal and saying, "Sorry about the mess."
Hal waves a hand dismissively. "You should see my place. This is nothing."
Then he moves forward, wrapping an arm around Dick's waist and tugging him flush against himself, leaning down to once again kiss Dick, capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. Dick makes a soft noise and kisses back, pushing up slightly on his toes and throwing an arm around Hal's neck. Hal lets his hands drift, squeezing Dick's ass, and Dick moans, bucking forward against him.
Hal backs Dick against the wall, pinning him there and breaking the kiss. He mouths along Dick's neck and then bites down. Dick yelps, jerking, but doesn't tell him to stop or lighten up, so Hal does it again and again, biting and sucking bruises onto Dick's skin. Dick's breath is hitching, his hips rolling forward slightly, pressing their crotches together.
Hal pulls Dick's arms off of him and grabs his wrists, pinning them above the kid's head, grip tight. He knows Dick has the skills to break this pin if he really wants to, but despite the way he winces as Hal's grip tightens, he doesn't make any attempt to pull away or get Hal to back off.
And that's really all the permission Hal needs. Operation: Leave Marks is a go.
He attacks Dick's neck again, releasing his wrists in order to reach down and undo the kid's pants, pulling them open and then sliding his hand inside, cupping Dick's half-hard cock.
Dick moans as he strokes him, bucking up into the touch, and then demands, "Off," tugging at Hal's uniform.
Hal crooks a smile and does as he's told, allowing the suit and mask to fade away, leaving him once again in his civilian clothes. Dick pushes his jacket down his arms immediately, then grabs the bottom of Hal's shirt and pulls it upward. Hal yanks it off the rest of the way and then does the same to Dick's shirt, immediately leaning in to kiss him again with bruising force.
Hal kicks off his shoes, and Dick's hands stroke over his chest and stomach and arms, humming a pleased noise as he rakes his nails over Hal's abs.
"Gorgeous," Hal tells him, and he means it. This might be a means to an end, but fuck if the means aren't pretty damn pleasant. Dick is fucking beautiful, leans muscles lining his body, scars shining silver against his skin. Just looking at him is getting Hal the rest of the way to hard.
When Hal pushes Dick's pants down his hips, Dick obligingly shimmies out of them, kicking them and his underwear somewhere away. Hal leans back briefly to just look at him, gaze heated as it drags up and down Dick's body. When he looks back to Dick's face, the kid's biting his lip, pupils blown wide. Hal grins.
"Bedroom?" he prompts, and Dick grins back at him, taking his hand and leading him down the hall.
He lets Hal pin him to the bed, grinding them together and kissing him deeply until Dick is gasping for air. Hal pulls back just enough to remove his own pants and underwear, and then nudges Dick to roll over before layering himself over Dick's back, grinding his cock against Dick's ass. The kid moans, pressing up against him.
"Lube?" Hal asks gruffly, and Dick gestures towards the bedside table, which Hal immediately jerks open, rummaging around until he finds the bottle he's looking for. He opens it and squeezes some of the gel onto his fingers, then shuffles into place between Dick's legs.
"Lift your ass for me, baby," Hal murmurs, and Dick follows the instruction, pulling his knees underneath himself, arching his back. Hal admires the sight for a moment, pressing a light kiss into the small of Dick's back, and then pushes a finger inside.
Dick is tight and hot and it makes Hal's mouth water, eager to truly be inside him. He probably rushes the stretching more than he should, pushing in a second finger before the times really comes, but Dick doesn't voice any complaints so he keeps going, heart thudding in his chest as he quickly scissors his fingers, pushing in a third when the muscles relax a little.
And then, well, that's fine, right? Dick's fine.
Hal removes his fingers and squeezes out some more lube, slicking up his erection, and shuffles forward into position.
"Ready?" he asks, breathless, and Dick nods, lifting his ass a little more in a way that makes Hal grin. "Alright then."
He goes hard and fast, not letting up, hands clamped on Dick's hips to keep him in place. But he's not a complete asshole; when he locates Dick's prostate he keeps going for it, enjoying the moans and whimpers that spill out of Dick's mouth.
"Hal, fuck—I'm—I'm close," Dick pants, hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets.
Hal reaches underneath him and takes hold of his cock, stroking him quickly, playing with his balls, swiping his thumb over his slit. And when Dick comes he comes hard, a low moan escaping him as he shakes before going boneless beneath Hal.
Hal pants roughly, fucking into the pliant body, chasing his own release. It doesn't take Dick long, though, to shift under him, a whine of discomfort escaping him.
"I'm almost there," Hal tells him. "You're okay, just—just—"
"Hal," Dick groans, and it sends Hal over the edge, coming deep inside of the body underneath him.
He floats for a few moments, enjoying the pleasant buzz in his head, but some of it is broken apart when Dick shifts again, whimpering. Probably oversensitive. Probably wants Hal to pull out.
It's really tempting not to, because damn if the kid doesn't feel good warming his cock. But again, he's not a complete asshole, so with a grunt he lifts himself off of Dick, pulling out. He enjoys the sight of his cum slowly sliding out of Dick's ass and down his thighs, and then collapses beside Dick, catching his breath.
Dick turns his head to face him, a slightly dopey grin on his face. He leans over and kisses Hal lightly, barely the brush of his lips against Hal's and Hal kisses back automatically, relaxing into the bed.
Sex always does put him to sleep. It's unfortunate; he wouldn't say no to a round two. But instead he finds his eyes sliding shut, sleep creeping up on him.
Before it takes him he feels a warm body press against his side, a steady heartbeat joining his own over his chest.
Dick wakes up slowly, sunlight filtering in through his curtains.
He lies there for a little while with his eyes closed, letting himself drift. He shifts slightly and winces, a lot of his body complaining about moving. His ass and neck ache especially; not necessarily a bad sensation, but definitely impossible to ignore.
The bed shifts under someone else's weight, and that's when it all comes back to Dick. Being out with his friends to celebrate his birthday, accepting all the drinks they pushed into his hand, and then running into Hal Jordan at the bar.
He remembered Hal from when he was younger, from when he was Robin and tagging along on Justice League missions after quite a bit of begging towards Bruce. He remembered that Hal and Bruce didn't really get along, but that everyone else seemed to like him well enough. And, well, he's a Green Lantern. That's got to count for something, in regards to the kind of person he is.
And at the bar he was so...nice. Engaging, interested in what Dick had to say. Dick can't remember the last time someone asked him how his job is going and then actually listened, never cutting him off or looking like they were spacing out.
But Hal did, even asked multiple questions. And he looked at Dick so warmly, like he was important, like Hal truly gave a shit about the conversation. Dick was maybe a little...smitten. Not even Roy could spoil that for him. When was the last time someone was interested in him like this? Ever since he and Kory broke up, Dick hasn't really dated. Like, at all.
This seems like it could be a really great thing. Hal seems like he could be a great person to be with. And sure maybe the sex was a little rougher than Dick tends to go for, but they were both a little drunk, and it was still very pleasant. Next time he'll simply make sure they're completely sober and slow things down a little bit. He's got some skills he's sure Hal is going to love.
Dick hears the rustle of fabric and blinks his eyes open curiously, tilting his head up.
Hal is sitting on the edge of the bed, sliding his underwear up his legs. Dick smiles slightly and pushes himself into a seated position, wincing slightly as his ass complains having to take his weight.
He stretches over to Hal, tucking his chin over the man's shoulder, wrapping his arms around his chest. Hal jumps, surprised, and Dick chuckles.
"Hey," Dick says softly. "Good morning."
There's a brief pause where Hal doesn't say anything, and then he returns, "Morning. How'd you sleep?"
Dick hums. "Pretty well. You know you're like a furnace? Who needs sheets or blankets when I've got you next to me?"
He expects Hal to laugh, to smile back at him, but instead Hal just says, "Yeah, I've always run a little warm."
Dick's brow furrows at how...distant he sounds, how stiff he is in Dick's grip instead of relaxing back against him. Maybe he's not a morning person? Dick isn't either, really, but he knows some people get grumpy early in the morning. A glance at the clock on his bedside table tells him it's not even seven yet; definitely far too early to be awake on a Saturday.
"Why don't you lie back down with me?" Dick suggests, pressing a light kiss to Hal's neck. "It's way too early to be alive; we should get some more sleep. Then maybe some breakfast afterwards, or another round..."
He crooks a grin, sure Hal can hear it in his voice.
Instead of responding, though, Hal takes ahold of his arms, carefully disentangling himself from them. Not forceful, but definitely firm. Dick allows himself to be removed, confused by the action, and watches in silence as Hal walks over to where his jeans are balled up, shaking them out and then beginning to step into them.
"Hal?" Dick asks. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, watching in confusion. "What are you doing?"
Again, Hal doesn't say anything, glancing around and then grimacing before looking back to Dick. His eyes drag down Dick's body, lingering on his neck and then his hips and thighs before going back up to his face. There's something satisfied in his eyes, and when a small smile tilts his lips, Dick relaxes a little.
"Sorry," Hal says, "can't stay. Should really be getting back to my apartment."
Dick frowns. "Wait, you're leaving?"
Hal nods and glances around again. "My shirt's in the living room, isn't it?"
He doesn't wait for an answer, heading for the door and then leaving the room. Dick blinks, not moving for a second, and then follows, wincing at the ache in his ass and the feeling of the dry cum on the insides of his thighs.
When he reaches the living room, Hal is in the middle of pulling his shirt on, then kneeling down to grab his shoes and put them on.
"Hal," Dick calls, and the man looks up at him, cocking an eyebrow in question. "What are you...why are you leaving?"
Hal pushes himself back to his feet and runs a hand through his hair, raking it back into some form of order. "This was really fun," he says. "Like, damn, really fun. But I'm gonna head out. I'll see you around, yeah?"
Dick feels extremely wrong-footed. He thought...Hal acted like he wanted more, last night. Like he wanted to take Dick out on a date. Hadn't he said something like that? Dick thought this was the beginning of something, he didn't think it was a one-night stand. He doesn't like one-night stands. He thought—Hal made him think—
"I thought you wanted to take me out," Dick says, blinking, still feeling lost.
Something almost like pity flashes across Hal's face, and it makes Dick's face heat with embarrassment, with shame.
"I had a great time," Hal says earnestly. "You're a great lay, honestly. But I'm...yeah, I'll see you around."
And then he's gone, out the same window they'd climbed through last night. He walks down the fire escape and vanishes from view, but Dick remains where he is for a little while longer, staring out the window, trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened.
Eventually he manages to get himself to move, heading over to where his pants and underwear are bunched up on the ground. He pulls his phone out of one of the pockets and sees a few missed calls from his friends, and a single text from Roy:
I really don't think that's a good idea, Dickie. Hal doesn't have a great track record. Call me, ok?
Dick swallows and closes his eyes, feeling like such a fucking idiot. How could he have been so stupid? He actually fell for that line? Fell for the whole I'm-actually-into-you shit? He's supposed to be smarter than that.
He presses one of his speed dials and lifts it to his ear, listening to it ring.
Roy answers with a sleepy, "'Llo?"
"Hey," Dick says thickly. "I...you were right, Roy. You were right."