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Hal was sat in the conference room, his thoughts and stomach churning. His heart was racing and Clark had glanced over a few times, the acuteness of his senses making it impossible to ignore Hal’s physical turmoil, but not able to discern the cause which clearly was not their regular weekly briefing.
“Lantern? Lantern? For god’s sake Jordan are you paying any attention?” Bruce’s irritation was apparent to all.
“Huh?”
“Diana was asking if there was any further information on the Black Lantern threat?”
“Um, I don’t think so?”
“So there was nothing from your trip to Oa last week?” Diana pressed him, concern furrowing her brow.
“Oh, yeah.” Now he realised why they were asking. “They are monitoring, but nothing concrete.”
“Delighted to know our sector of the galaxy is safe in your hands. I hope our discussion about the safety and security of the Earth isn’t getting in the way of something more pressing - a coupon day at Big Burger perhaps?” Hal normally would have had a smart ass reply to Bruce needling him. Today, it was too much.
“Fuck you, Bruce.” He pushed his chair back and stalked out of the room, leaving an awkward silence behind him. Most of the room looked at Bruce who looked somewhat chagrined. “I’ll speak to him.”
“Oh, I think you’ve done enough - I’ll go find out what’s wrong.” Oliver was glaring at Bruce as he also left the room.
“Ok, I think the briefing is probably done.” Clark was as ever the diplomat. As they filed out, he caught Bruce discreetly. “Listen, Bruce, I don’t know what’s going on with Hal but he’s worked up about something - his heart rate and adrenaline were all over the place.”
“Ok, thanks for invading his privacy, I guess?”
“Bruce, that’s not fair. I can’t help it.”
Bruce let out a sigh which implied long suffering. “Fine, Clark, I’ll sort it.”
Oliver went looking for Hal in his quarters, and then when there was no answer there he tried the Watchtower cafeteria, which also did not contain Hal. Ollie wondered where he would have gone? Bruce, who was the far superior observer of human behaviour, even if he had the emotional literacy of a tadpole, went straight for the hangar. As expected he found Hal doing what soothed him - tinkering with the Javelin, spanner in hand and a greasy rag over his shoulder. Bruce approached him, cowl pushed back and face uncovered.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Not particularly, Captain Darkness. Want to get out of my hangar?”
“Your hangar? I designed and built this place.”
“Well done for not pointing out you paid for it as well. That must have caused you actual physical pain.”
Bruce took a breath. It wasn’t actually like Hal to be so pissy - he was normally good humoured and ready to smile. He remembered what Clark had said about Hal’s physical state. He decided to be the bigger person and reached out, “Hal. Look at me.” He grudgingly complied. Bruce’s voice was soft, “Hal, this isn’t like you. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
Hal considered whether or not to tell him. He and Bruce could be so gentle with each other when the mood took them, then other times their relationship was crushed between the weight of their differences - personality, jobs, finances, upbringing, number of butlers. Sometimes he felt he couldn’t breathe around it. But ultimately he trusted Bruce more than anyone. Bruce didn’t take his eyes off Hal’s as he stood there weighing whether to say anything. Hal ruffled his hair which he’d let grow longer because he realised that Bruce preferred it that way - he like to run his hands through it and grip it when Hal sucked him off.
Ice blue eyes held hazel and Hal knew this was one of those times he could take as long as he wanted, and Bruce would be there when he felt like speaking. Bruce had held him in silence for hours after particularly harrowing missions, and never demanded Hal’s testimony as a price for his support, but today there was no obvious cause for his mood and his lover had asked him what was wrong. Also, Bruce coming to him and asking what was wrong was as close as Bruce ever came to an apology, which he chose to accept graciously. He decided to take the chance, to see how the words felt when he said them out loud.
“I spoke to Jim a few days ago.”
Bruce’s heart sank - conversations with Hal’s brother never went well.
“Jessica is dying.”
Whatever Bruce had been expecting it wasn’t that. Though really it wasn’t that shocking given the way she’d abused her body for decades. He didn’t say anything and Hal continued. He realised it was a relief to tell someone else, someone who had a glimmer of understanding of how complicated and painful his relationship with his mother was.
“Liver failure. No way she’s a candidate for a donor liver. So it’s a few weeks at most.”
Bruce understood the world of emotions that hid under the matter of fact explanation. He trod carefully, knowing there were land mines everywhere.
“I’m sorry. That’s really rough.”
Hal barked a mirthless laugh. “No rougher than the other shit she’s pulled.”
“Do you know what you want to do?”
“No. I don’t know....A part of me feels like I want to say goodbye.....and then I think ‘what would I say? You were a shitty Mom but I forgive you?’ Because I haven’t actually forgiven her. So what would it achieve? But I don’t get another chance, so what if I regret not going? But what if I do regret seeing her or I do go and end up regretting my last words to her? So.....I don’t know. So that’s what’s distracting me, not ‘coupon day at Big Burger’ you classist asshole.”
“What I said was unforgivable.”
“Oh please, stop being so over dramatic. Though I do realise that’s like telling you not to breathe.” Hal wasn’t smiling.
“What can I do?”
Hal shrugged. “Nothing. There’s nothing anyone can do.”
Bruce took a tentative step closer. When Hal didn’t object he closed the distance between them and reached for him. Hal didn’t resist but allowed himself to be enclosed in the strongest arms, face buried against solid muscle and black Kevlar. Words didn’t come easily to Bruce, but people always forgot that he’d raised four troubled boys, and he knew how to comfort people in distress.
When Oliver finally worked out where Hal must be, this was his view that greeted him as he entered the hangar - Hal leaning against Bruce like he was the only solid thing in the universe. He watched for a moment, unable to look away, though he was witnessing something which was not for him. Of course, it could just be that he was seeing one colleague emotionally supporting another, but instinct told him it was more than that - something about the intimacy of the embrace suggested two people who knew each other’s bodies well. He left silently, pondering what he’d just seen.
———————
It had started because Hal had been bored and couldn’t resist poking the bear. Seeing Bruce brooding from the sidelines of Oliver’s New Year’s party, he’d gone over to needle him. Somehow that had ended with them fucking each other senseless in Bruce’s fancy hotel room. As they lay panting and spent on the bed, Bruce had assumed this would be a one time only thing - get this tension between them out of their systems and go back to low level mutual antagonism, but then Hal had curled up beside him, his head on Bruce’s shoulder and draped his leg over him, kissing him gently. “That was amazing.”
Bruce had just nodded, surprised.
“Mind if I stay for another round?”
“Not at all.”
And that had been that. Somehow they had settled into a semi routine, meeting at Bruce’s penthouse when they were able to snatch time together - evenings when they could, sometimes whole days and the occasional weekend where they’d fucked so much they were in danger of dehydration due to fluid loss.
Hal had been uncharacteristically lost for words the first time he’d seen the penthouse, and then realised this was just one of many properties Bruce owned. As much as he loved fucking around with Bruce, he also loved the sound system, and couch which was more comfortable than his bed, and the beds which were - well, he’d always hoped it was a marketing gimmick that spending more money on mattresses meant more comfort and better sleep, but having it confirmed made him depressed. He thought he’d been discreet about his love affair with Bruce’s mattress, but when one was delivered gift wrapped to his apartment, he realised he had for sure not been as discreet as he’d thought. When he thanked Bruce and expressed surprise that he’d noticed, Bruce had just snorted. “Yes, uncovering your love for my mattress took all my detective skills, let me tell you.”
It hurt a little to use the word “love” in the same thought as Hal Jordan. Because despite endless jokes about Bruce’s emotional intelligence, Bruce knew what was happening - that he was playing with fire, but he figured the only person who stood to get hurt was him, and he was okay with that as long as that meant he could continue to be with Hal. Because for him it had stopped being about just sex a long time ago. He had fallen deeply, irretrievably, hopelessly in love with the man. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when seeing Hal smile made his heart contract, or when he found it relaxing to hear Hal chatter about his day or his latest mission, or the crappiness of the food on Vogon 6, or when he had started to fixate when Hal was on a particularly dangerous assignment.
He knew Hal didn’t reciprocate, of course - he was self aware enough to know that he was just a convenient lay, and so he was very careful not to make it awkward by showing his feelings. He never wanted to see Hal run his hands through his beautiful auburn hair and mumble excuses about ‘not feeling that way, but liking him as a friend, and oh gosh is that the time, I need to be somewhere’. He knew that if Hal ever suspected how Bruce really felt, he’d be not just out the door but probably on another planet before he could blink. And so he minimised and covered up, careful never to show too much or ask anything of Hal. Of all people, Bruce knew about the fragility of human lives and happiness. On the rare occasions he allowed himself to think to properly, to engage with the reality of Hal’s work as a Green Lantern, he felt sick at how dangerous it was. So he was always available, always willing whenever the universe granted them the precious gift of time together.
—————
Oliver went back to his quarters and told Dinah what he’d seen.
“Hmmm. Makes sense.”
“Really?”
“Yes. All that squabbling between them - makes sense it was sexual tension. Good for them. It’s hot, really, when you think about it.”
“Hot?”
“Yeah, those two beautiful men, all those muscles and scars....yeah, definitely hot.”
Oliver looked at her. “So....”. He leaned towards her for a kiss.
“Mmmhmm.” Dinah hummed appreciatively into his mouth, pulled him in to deepen the kiss. Oliver caught her mood, slipping his tongue in and making her moan. He was slipping down her body and worked her out of her yoga pants, which pleasingly she didn’t wear underwear with. As he kissed up her thighs he was delighted to see she was already wet, ruby folds glistening with her arousal. She certainly was finding the idea of Hal and Bruce a turn on. He flicked her tongue over her and she moaned, hissing when he found her clit. He was teasing, not giving her anything like enough pressure and she was rubbing herself against his face trying to her enough friction. Oliver chuckled and she pulled away, “Right, come here you bastard!” She hauled him up and flipped him on the bed. The fact she was so much more skilled in combat than him was not a turn off for Oliver, quite the contrary in fact. She tackled his belt and dragged his jeans and underwear down. For a moment she sat back on her heels to admire her conquest, his face glistening with her juices and his cock already hard and leaking.
She swung her leg over him and settled down on his lap, rubbing herself against his crotch. It was his turn to moan at the ‘not quite enoughness’ of the glide of her cunt on his cock. She finally took pity on them both and guided him inside her, eyes closing as she worked herself up and down his length. When she settled into a rhythm, he reached for her clit and she sighed, speeding up and bouncing herself against his groin and his hand. He watched her, other hand gripping her hip - how had he ever got so lucky as to persuade this extraordinary woman to marry him? He thanked his lucky stars for her as her tight heat was making him lose control. He could tell from her panting she was close and he started to thrust up into her, wanting to come with her. Dinah was moaning her climax, he could feel her clenching on his cock, and then he was coming inside her and they were both moaning and panting and he wasn’t quite sure where she finished and he began, and now she was collapsed on top of him and just for a moment he was perfectly happy. He had a fleeting moment of wondering if this was what Hal and Bruce had - did they love each other like this? Did anyone?
————————
Bruce had suggested they head to the penthouse, and Hal had agreed - he didn’t want to be alone in his quarters, and they didn’t share a room on the Watchtower. Bruce had ordered dinner from the Thai place Hal liked. They were conspicuously avoiding talking about the Jessica situation. Hal was talking about some modifications he wanted to make to the Javelin while Bruce served up noodles and set up little pots of dipping sauces. Hal paused his chatter and took in the very domestic scene in front of him.
“Bruce?”
“Mmhmm.” Bruce was licking sauce off his finger.
“Bruce, I don’t want to be here under false pretences.”
“What do you mean?” Bruce was genuinely puzzled.
“Well, our time together is usually spent fucking, which is normally fantastic, like A plus plus fucking, y’know?” Hal was aware he was rambling but Bruce was just listening and watching him. “But I’m not sure I’m up for that tonight.”
“Hal, sex isn’t a tax you have to pay for us spending time together. You don’t owe me anything and I certainly don’t expect anything from you.”
“I know, I just didn’t want you to think.....I don’t know what I was thinking. Ignore me.”
“No problem.” Bruce added with a soft smile, “Eat up.”
Bruce’s heart was breaking open for Hal, but he did not let it show - he knew Hal would recoil from anything he interpreted as pity. They fell into bed shortly after eating, and Bruce allowed himself the luxury of just holding Hal until he fell asleep, which was not something their usual. Obviously they had shared a bed, but it was usually more a case of passing out after coming their brains out. This was a different kind of intimacy, holding Hal, the man he loved, to call the situation what it was, until he succumbed to rest. When Bruce was confident that Hal was under he kissed the top of his head and breathed in the smell of his hair. It was the sweetest torture he’d ever experienced.
Hal awoke with clarity. Bruce was still asleep and probably would be for hours. Years in the military meant Hal was programmed to rise with the sun, even if he’d been off world for weeks and could really use some sleep, which, y’know, annoying.
He padded out to the kitchen and starter the coffee maker as he turned his decision over in his head. He had decided to go to Mayfield and say goodbye to Jessica. He didn’t want to, but he’d rather regret something he did, than something he didn’t do. He imagined what he might say and every scenario got so horribly complicated that he was settling on just saying goodbye. What else was there, really?
He was sipping his coffee, lost in thought when Bruce entered the kitchen.
“You’re up early.”
Bruce just grunted in return and headed for the coffee.
“So, I think I’m going to go and see Jessica before.....the end”
Bruce looked up, “If that’s what you want?”
“Well, ‘want’ is a strong word, but I think I’ll eventually regret it if I don’t.”
Bruce nodded, thoughtfully.
“Would you like some company?”
That took Hal by surprise, “Really?”
“Of course. I can have my jet ready whenever you want to go.”
“Ok, that’s.....really kind actually. Thanks.”
“Which hospital is she in?”
“Marshall county.”
“Ok, let me know when you want to go I’ll make the arrangements.”
If the staff on Bruce’s private jet thought it was odd that they were taking him and his companion to a little used air strip in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky, they made no comment. Hal was gripping the armrests of his seat and Bruce covered the back of his hand.
“You ok?”
Hal looked up, “Oh yeah, just hate being flown by other people.”
Bruce snorted a laugh at that, “And you accuse me of being a control freak.” Hal smiled at that, and Bruce left his hand where it was, feeling the warmth of Hal’s beneath his.
They travelled in companionable silence for the rest of the trip. A car was waiting for them at the air strip, but Bruce waived the driver away - he did not want strangers intruding on Hal’s complex and private grief.
He dropped Hal at the entrance to the hospital and told him he’d wait for him - he was Hal’s part time lover (well, “fuck buddy” is probably what Hal would have called him), it was sadly not his place to join the Jordan family at this time of loss.
Hal had been lucky enough to mostly avoid hospitals despite his almost suicidally insane life choices. The receptionist had directed him upstairs and along corridors until he found himself at the palliative care ward. He spoke to a nurse with a kind face who prepared him for how he’d find Jessica before he saw her. Despite the warnings he was still shocked to see her, bloated, bruised with her skin tinged with jaundice. Her eyes were closed. Hal, conscious of her greater capacity to bruise, gently touched her hand. Her eyelids fluttered. “Hi.” he murmured. Jessica looked at him and he could tell she was confused, whether from the disease or the pain relief he didn’t know.
“It’s Hal.” Her face broke into a smile. “Hal, it’s been so long. You look so well, how are you?”
“I’m good. How are you doing? They seem to be taking good care of you.”
“Yes, they’re very kind.”
“Do you need anything?”
“No, they get me anything I need.”
“That’s good.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say or ask. Any lingering idea he’d had of using this as closure to tell her the damage she’d caused vanished. The pathetic, confused creature in front of him was so far removed from the violent drunk of his childhood, really, what was there to say? Hal looked at her. He bent down and gently kissed her cheek.
“Take care, Mom. Goodbye.”
Hal softly closed the door to her room behind him. He sat down heavily on a plastic chair and started to sob. He cried for himself, for Jessica, for Jim, for everything he’d lost, for all the years he’d spent trying to make himself worthy of love and kindness. Eventually he became aware of someone sat next to him. He turned to look and saw the kind faced nurse from earlier. She handed him a box of tissues which he gratefully accepted.
“Would you like a drink of water?” Hal nodded and she returned shortly with a little plastic cup.
“Would you like to talk?” Hal shook his head at that. She looked at him and said gently, “It’s a really hard time, but I’ve been doing this a long time and I can say with confidence that when everything has settled, most people are glad to have said goodbye.”
He stared mutely at her and she got up and went about the rest of her job.
Hal didn’t know how long he sat there, clutching the tissues and plastic cup. He thought about Bruce waiting for him outside, for however long it had been now. He idly wondered what Bruce was doing to pass the time, probably billionaire CEO stuff from the car park of Marshall county hospital, and he smiled wryly at the contrast - the underlings in Wayne Towers sleek glass and chrome offices having no idea where the boss was as he issued orders. As he continued to sit and think about Bruce, Hal realised that he was a fucking grand master at blinding clarity after the event. He catalogued them in his head - the slow dawning realisation in his late teens of why he preferred hanging out with his football buddies than making out with the cheerleaders, the understanding that Jessica wasn’t suddenly going to get clean and sober and he was going to have to find a way to feed and clothe himself, the time he flunked his exams and learned that while he was smart, he was not smart enough to do zero work and be drunk all the time, the time he realised (many years after the event) that General Winters hadn’t innocently ‘bumped into him in Walmart’, but had in fact learned that Jessica had disintegrated into full blown alcoholism and had sought him out to take him under his wing, and then all those years later the 20/20 hindsight and regret when he realised just how much he had disappointed his mentor when he’d been caught with a couple of grams of cocaine in his flight suit, and how many strings Winters had to pull for him to simply be dishonourably discharged rather than facing court martial. And now this....whatever it was with Bruce. How everything they’d done in bed was led by Hal’s pleasure, how Bruce always let him choose where or what they ate, how Bruce always made sure to order Thai from the place where he really liked the spring rolls even though Bruce never touched them, how he’d dropped everything to come with him to this crappy town at this even crappier time, Jesus, his hindsight was really perfect. Roll up, roll up and see Hal Jordan - the number one guy to have around some time after the event.
Eventually Hal felt steady enough to head out to meet Bruce. Fortunately the Kentucky sunshine was bright enough to justify continuing to wear sunglasses. He had thought about a lot sitting in that beige corridor. He thought about how he wanted to spend whatever life the universe granted him, and who he wanted to spend it with. If you’d asked him a week ago, he would have said that he and Bruce were just casual fuck buddies with occasional bouts of mutual antagonism, but there was nothing casual about Bruce’s kindness and, well, tenderness, over the Jessica situation. Whatever they had become to each other, he was fairly sure it was more than great sex. Equally if you’d asked him a week ago about a proper relationship with Bruce, there probably would have been a Hal shaped hole in the wall as he would be unable to get away fast enough, but something about crying in the disinfectant smelling air of Marshall County Hospital had given him clarity and purpose.
—————
Hal got into the car looking like he’d aged ten years since Bruce had left him at the hospital entrance.
“I need to say a few things and I need you not to interrupt me while I’m saying them.”
“Ok” Bruce nodded. Whatever he’d expected, it was not this assertive and purposeful energy.
“First, I think you and me have gone beyond whatever casual fun times arrangement we started out with. You mean more to me than that, and I think you feel the same. But I have one condition if we are going to take this to the next level.”
Bruce could hardly breathe, he couldn’t dare to believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t imagine what had taken place in that hospital, but there was no condition he wouldn’t sign up to in order to have all of Hal. He nodded for Hal to continue.
“I need you to stop drinking.”
Bruce was silent. Ok, maybe there was one condition he couldn’t meet.
“I mean it. I can’t be with you and watch you destroy yourself with that shit. I can’t stand by your hospital bed while your failed liver slowly poisons your body. I can’t.”
Well, that did make sense given the visit he’d just made. Bruce’s head was swirling - that Hal felt deeply enough to worry about his welfare, that Hal thought he had a drinking problem and that Hal was making a connection between Bruce’s behaviour and his alcoholic mother.
“Bruce? You can reply now.”
“That’s a lot to take in. I don’t know what to address first, whether it’s you calling the 30 year old scotch I prefer ‘shit’, or whether you really think in my line of work that it’s my liver that’s going to kill me?”
“Are you arguing about those because you’ve decided you want to try for a relationship?”
‘Relationship’. Bruce rolled the word around his head. A relationship with Hal. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it, what he’d sneakily constructed without Hal’s knowledge or consent - the casual suggestion of take out before they got down to fucking each other’s brains out, so he could pretend to himself they were on a date. Hal was offering him a chance at what he’d wanted for so long. He realised as Hal looked at him with his brow furrowed that he had been silent for an awkwardly long time, and Hal was waiting for an answer.
Bruce nodded. They were looking at each other, but Hal still hand his sunglasses on. Bruce slowly reached up and gently removed them, making no comment about the redness of his eyes. He cupped Hal’s cheek, “No hiding.” Bruce murmured.
Hal turned his face into Bruce’s hand and kissed the palm. Of all the athletic, filthy things they had done in bed (and on quite a few other surfaces), it was the quiet intimacy of this action that unstrung Bruce. Hal looked steadily at him, “Well, if we’re not hiding, I should tell you that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”
Bruce closed his eyes and breathed that in.
“Me too, but you should know I’m not going to be good at this.”
“Yes thanks, we’ve met, I’m going into this eyes wide open.”
Bruce weighed that. Hal deserved a sacrifice in return.
“I’ll cut down on the drinking.”
“Ok, let’s start there.” Hal was too tired to explain why “cut down” wouldn’t work, but they had a starting place.
They arrived back in Gotham as late night bled into early morning. Hal was dead on his feet as they headed up to the penthouse. It occurred to Bruce that he didn’t have to keep checking his instinct to touch Hal, and he took his hand in the elevator and brought it to his lips to kiss it. Hal smiled at the gesture and leaned forward to brush his lips against Bruce’s. Bruce ushered him to bed while he finished some work. When he’d finished he looked around and noticed the liquor cabinet in the corner of the lounge. He contemplated it for the longest time, then stood up decisively, strode over and started removing the bottles. When they were all assembled in the kitchen he emptied one after another down the sink. When he’d finished, it smelled like a brewery in there. As he’d emptied them he paid close attention to how he was feeling and noticed a persistent itch to taste each one, to lick the last drop from the rim of each bottle. The self control it had required not to was as immense as anything in the early days of his training. Interesting. Perhaps Hal was right.
Hal was sleeping by the time he made it to bed. He had showered thoroughly to make sure there was no lingering smell of booze on him. He reflected it was the second time they’d slept together without having sex. It was odd that this felt like progress, though he did hope the sex would resume at some point. Given Hal’s libido he wasn’t greatly concerned.
The sex did in fact resume the next morning. For the first time in years, Hal actually slept in. When he saw what time it was, he figured it was time for Bruce to wake up. He crawled up Bruce’s body and kissed him. “Good morning beautiful.” Bruce just grunted.
“So it occurs to me that we never actually sealed the deal?”
“Huh?”
“We said some pretty big stuff yesterday and haven’t actually consummated the relationship.”
“Hal, I’m pretty sure we have consummated it on every surface of this apartment.”
“That’s a full sentence. Well done. Anyway, we haven’t done the nasty since we said we loved each other, and I think we should make it official.”
Bruce was going to argue with the logic of this, but then realised he was arguing himself out of sex with Hal, which was his worst plan ever, so he conceded.
“Ah, now I’m fully awake, I see your point.” He kissed Hal deep and with lots of tongue. Hal reciprocated until he was grinding on top of Bruce, both of them hard. Hal still had his underwear on but as always, Bruce slept naked. Bruce flipped them so he was on top and started working to remove the offending item. When Hal was naked in all his glory, Bruce sat back on his heels for a moment, to drink in the sight. The first time they’d slept together, the sight of Hal naked and golden with his beautiful cock (which bent ever so slightly to the left) brushing those abs, had nearly made him cum right there. Bruce had had plenty of sex with beautiful men and women over the years, but sex with Hal was a different order of thing altogether. He wondered if that was because he’d been in love with him this whole time. It didn’t really matter, they had found each other now. He was obviously quiet for too long because Hal frowned and he asked “Everything okay?”
“Hmm. More than. Just admiring the view.”
“Yeah? Well same.”
Hal’s fascination with his body still surprised him as he was nowhere near as perfect as Hal, the scars, the lack of classic proportion - Hal was like a Greek statue, but he didn’t seem to mind their differences. He was running his hands over Bruce’s chest now and pulling him down. They were rolling now, grinding and kissing until they were both cranked and panting for it. “Will you fuck me?” Hal husked. Bruce nodded and got the lube. “How do you want it?”
“Face to face.” An unusual request from Hal who generally preferred to be face down and humping the mattress when getting righteously fucked, but one he was more than happy to oblige - being able to see Hal’s face while he fucked into that incredible body was one of his favourite things. He worked Hal open and then started to lube up his own cock. Hal was slowly pumping himself watching Bruce who moaned at the sight. “This might be an embarrassingly quick consummation.” He warned, greedy eyes on where Hal’s hand was jacking himself. Hal gave a lazy grin, “Better hurry up and get in me then.”
Bruce didn’t need telling twice. He lined himself up and started to push in. It had only been a few days, but Hal’s body felt more incredible than he remembered. As predicted, he didn’t last long, Hal’s velvet heat and the sight of him fisting his cock was too much. He came, moaning his pleasure into Hal’s neck. He had the presence of mind to add his hand to Hal’s and the pleasure of feeling him come undone and spurt into both their hands. Bruce brought his to his mouth and licked it.
“Babe, if I’d known you were so filthy I’d have jumped you years ago.”
Bruce just grinned, “Well, we found each other eventually.”
—————
Jessica Jordan’s funeral was a small affair - Hal and Bruce, and Jim was there with his family. There were a few family friends who Jessica had not managed to alienate with her drinking and abuse. They stood sombrely at the graveside, the fierce sunshine a contrast to the mood. Bruce reflected that at least the weather had had the decency to be overcast and raining for his parents’ funeral. When the few mourners gathered to speak to the bereaved family, Hal was surprised to find himself shaking hands with General Winters - instantly recognisable despite nearly a decade passing.
“Good to see you, son.”
“Wow, General, I didn’t expect to see you. Thank you for coming.”
“I wanted to pay my respects. Jessica took your father’s death awful hard. I’m glad they’re together again at last.” Hal gestured to Bruce to come over.
“Bruce, there’s someone I’d like you to meet - this is General James Winters. He served with my father and I served under him in the Air Force.”
Bruce shook his hand, “An honour to meet you Sir, thank you for your service.”
“Nice to meet you too....” he tailed off because Hal had not actually explained who Bruce was.
“Sorry, this is my boyfriend, Bruce Wayne.”
To say Bruce was surprised that Hal was introducing him as a “boyfriend” to someone from his military background was an understatement, but he didn’t let it show on his face. The General just nodded.
“What are you up to now Hal?”
“I’m a test pilot for an independent company, so thanks to you I still get to fly. Oh, and I volunteer as a.... community police officer. So I’m doing some good in the world now as well.”
‘Not just the world’ thought Bruce, a whole sector of the galaxy, but he kept a bland smile on his face.
James Winters smiled at that. “I never had any doubt that you would. And you did a great deal of good when you were in the Air Force. I’m glad things have worked out for you, I know it wasn’t always easy.” He placed a firm hand on Hal’s shoulder and then look his leave. Bruce did raise an eyebrow, requesting more information about that exchange.
“I’ll tell you on the way home.”
Home. Their home. Not the penthouse any more, Hal had moved into the Manor. Bruce had been nervous about introducing Hal to the chaos of his family, but Hal had taken to it straight away, loving the warmth and energy of family life, which he had missed out on for so much of his childhood. In return, Bruce’s odd family adored Hal - Alfred was thrilled to have someone else to enjoy his cooking and Damian would have monopolised his time given the chance, and imperiously demanded Hal’s assistance with his math and physics homework as his right. Bruce’s heart cracked open seeing that small dark head leaning towards Hal, hanging on his every word, but what he enjoyed the most was how much his eldest and Hal enjoyed each other’s company. Hal respected Dick as a police officer, and his laid back attitude and humour were a good match for Dick’s easy going nature. Bruce commented on it one day and Hal gave a bark of laughter.
“Oh yeah, I make sure to stay on Dick’s good side.”
“What on earth do you mean.”
“Dick gave me a shovel talk when I moved in.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Not that I had any doubt where you primary loyalties lie, but good to know you’ll always back your kids over me.”
“I’m not backing him, just doubting your recollection. Human memory is very fallible.”
“Cram it, Spooky. I know what happened. Your eldest ninja cornered me in your fancy ass library, told me you were vulnerable and prone to making terrible romantic decisions and if I hurt you, he would make me suffer. Which I totally believe he would, by the way. He is scary fast - makes you look rusty.”
“ ‘prone to making terrible romantic decisions’! How dare he!”
“He did cite Selina as evidence, which, fair.”
Bruce glared at that.
“Anyhow, I’m just saying that while we seem to get on, and I really do like him, I’m also terrified of him.”
“Wise.”
Bruce paused reflecting on their conversation for a moment. He moved quickly to close the space between then and murmured in Hal’s ear, “Get upstairs and I’ll show you how rusty I am.”
“Oh really?”
Bruce was kissing down his neck now. “Mmhmm.”
And somehow, in this house of detectives and ninjas, they managed to sneak away to have half an hour to themselves.