Chapter Text
Hal is used to seeing his friends in danger.
It comes with the job. His friends are all in this hero or Lantern business, same as Hal, and they all face the same threats everyday. Hal trusts the Justice League and his fellow Lanterns, but sometimes his heart still skips a beat when Barry runs at mach 10, or when Kyle gets a little too close to an angry alien.
It comes with the job, but somehow nothing prepares Hal for the sight of Bruce, just Bruce, kneeling with a blaster pointed at his head. Bruce’s performance as Batman is so effective that even Hal sometimes forgets that he’s just Bruce. The same guy who’s been flirting with him and fighting with him in equal measure. The same guy who raised an army of kids, who are all listening in as Hal attempts to save their dad.
Hal gives the five aliens a cursory scan as he lands in front of them on the roof, hands raised. A news helicopter hovers much too close, and he registers shadowy figures lurking a few buildings away. His stomach sinks as he recognizes the beings in front of him. The damn cultists from a few weeks back. Seems like Hal didn’t completely disband his fanclub.
The alien closest to him, the one next to Bruce, chitters at him and Hal breathes as his ring translates, keeping Bruce in his peripheral vision.
“Green Lantern 2814.1, thank you for joining us.”
“Yeah, well, it looks like I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” Hal responds.
“We knew that you would come for him. Do not worry. Nothing will happen to your companion if you come with us.”
Hal is so glad that Bruce can’t understand a word the aliens are saying, because they are absolutely proving his paranoid ass right. The Green Lantern flirting with Bruce has put them in danger. Bruce is without any of his gear, dressed as a civilian and unlikely to fight back when the news is already covering the story.
But the worst part is that Hal almost concedes to them instantly, the imminent threat of Bruce being harmed sending a flurry of panic through his heart and, motherfucker. Fuck. Shit. What an inconvenient time to have this realization. Jesus, Oliver is gonna be insufferable about this.
Hal approaches his fanclub slowly. The upside to dealing with blood thirsty fanatics is that they’re fanatics. The word of Green Lantern 2814.1 is law to them. A fact that makes Hal a little sick, but he’s not above using it to his advantage here.
“I will speak with you further once he’s been released and is safe from harm,” Hal commands. He sees Bruce shift and hears him huff, but Hal ignores him.
“How can we ensure that you will cooperate?” One of the aliens asks.
“By making me happy, and threatening him is making me very unhappy,” Hal snaps. The aliens flinch back and look around at each other, seemingly deliberating through elaborate hand gestures that Hal’s ring can’t make heads or tails of. Hal watches as the one holding the blaster slowly lowers it toward the ground and nudges Bruce in the back. Bruce scowls as he almost loses his balance, but he struggles to his feet and starts over toward Hal.
Hal’s shoulders relax as Bruce gets closer, and he almost misses a different blaster being raised back towards Bruce’s head. In an instant, Hal is deflecting the shot and engaging with the group. The fuckers are surprisingly adept, obsessed as they are with the Lanterns. But Hal is a Green Lantern, a member of the Justice League, and he’s fucking pissed.
The shooter goes down hard, landing on his arm with a satisfying crunch. Hal doesn’t give the other armed alien much time to react, slamming him against the rooftop just as hard. The other aliens make an awful shrieking as they attempt to charge at Hal, but he swifty dodges them. He doesn’t get too creative with the construct, it’s really just a large brick that crashes into the remaining three cultists, stunning them into near silence. One last chitter is translated by his ring, and Hal pulls his fist back.
“Lantern,” Bruce says, voice much softer than it has any right to be. Hal turns his head to look at Bruce. Bruce lifts his bound hands to give him a little wave, and Hal lets his fist drop. Bruce is fine. He’s fine.
Hal leaves the aliens where they are, confident that they can’t wiggle out of his hold. He slices through the rope on Bruce’s wrists and runs his hands over his arms and chest, checking for injury.
“Did they hurt you?” Hal asks.
“Why, were you worried?” Bruce teases. Hal meets his eyes, doesn’t even think before responding.
“Yes,” Hal says, and Bruce’s lips part in surprise, “they knew I would come for you, that they could get to me through you.”
“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Bruce says, and Hal realizes he’s trying to reassure him. That maybe he’s trying to give Hal an out, here. Well fuck that.
“No, Bruce, you weren’t,” Hal whispers. Because apparently it was obvious enough that the Green Lantern was in love with Bruce that fucking aliens knew before Hal did. Hal watches Bruce’s face intently as he begins to understand what Hal’s saying, and shit, he feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.
“Bruce, I-” Hal starts, but suddenly he’s being pulled in by his shoulders, and Bruce’s lips are finally pressed against his. Hal wastes no time in getting his hands around Bruce, in his hair, around his waist. His brain is on overdrive, desperately trying to experience everything about this all at once. The way Bruce tastes, the scratch of his facial hair, his scent, the way he inhales sharply as Hal runs his hand through his soft hair.
It feels a bit like flying, and Hal is a little bit giddy as they break away. He grins at Bruce’s newly disheveled appearance.
“About time, huh?” Hal asks. Bruce smiles back at him, his eyes bright as they slide over to the, oh. Oh right. The news helicopter. Bruce Wayne’s rescue, televised as always. Hal clears his throat and is careful to keep himself composed as he steps back.
“Makes for good TV, I suppose,” he says. Bruce’s mouth twitches down, and he tilts his head in confusion. That stupid head tilt used to piss Hal off, but now he just finds it annoyingly adorable. He has to look away.
“I should take care of my mess,” Hal says, gesturing towards the pile of wide-eyed and flattened aliens.
“Alright,” Bruce says, his voice back to its flat neutrality, just this side of Batman.
Hal has to stop himself from laughing. How fucking absurd it would be, to have a movie-worthy make out on top of a building. How fucking Bruce Wayne.
“Right. Well, same time tomorrow?” Hal can’t keep the bite out of his tone. It’s not Bruce’s fault, not really. Hal started it. He’s the asshole who played it up in front of cameras, who put Bruce’s life in danger. He feels like a child throwing a tantrum for getting exactly what he wanted.
“H– Lantern? What–”
“Your children are waiting for you, Mr. Wayne. You should get back to them,” Hal responds. He can’t bring himself to look back as he wraps the aliens in an easier to transport prison cell. “I have work to do.”
This time, it feels more like he’s fleeing than making a dramatic exit as he launches himself away from Bruce.