Chapter Text
Hal shouldered open the door to his apartment. It was weird, having an apartment again after spending most of his time in space or in his quarters on Oa, but Barry hadn’t stopped whining until Hal had agreed to sign a lease.
Sighing, Hal shuffled around the boxes of new furniture he still hadn’t gotten around to making and stopped dead at the sight of a small, dark haired child in a familiar red and green uniform standing on his kitchen counter, examining his bare cupboards.
Robin, apparently, turned around and planted his hands on his hips. “Your lack of food and choice of décor is pathetic.” He announced seriously.
Hal was aware he was gaping, but what else was he supposed to do? He had just been insulted by a kid in a bird costume.
He glanced down at his key-chain and then back at the still open door. 04. This was his apartment, but it didn’t explain what Robin, of Batman and Robin fame, was doing in it.
“What are you doing in my house?” Hal blurted out dumbly.
Robin closed the cupboards with a resounding bang, moving onto the next set. “I am investigating you.” He said, as if it was obvious. “I need to ensure that my father’s new ‘Justice League’ is up to standard.” He sneered.
Hal pressed his lips together and closed the door. “…Okay?” He said, processing the odd statement. “First. Get off the kitchen counter. Second. Does Bats know you’re here?” He asked, setting the groceries on the island as he watched the child pick through his empty cupboards.
“I am perfectly capable of handling myself, Lantern. You on the other hand, appear to be incapable of that.” Robin said imperiously, in that way that only kids really could. “You have one cup and two knives, and no forks.”
“They’re in another box.” Hal said, moving around to help the young boy off the counter top. “Now get down from there before you fall.”
He was still unclear why Robin was in his apartment or what secrets his cupboards could contain, but he wasn’t going to take the chance of the kid braining himself.
Spooky would get Diana to murder him.
Robin ignored him, stepping over the fancy glass stove top that had had Barry interested in the listing in the first place. “You signed the lease for this residence nine days ago.” He rattled off. “You should be unpacked by now.”
Hal sighed. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you know that.” He muttered. “Off. The Counter.” He repeated, looking at the child sternly.
“My investigation is not done-”
Hal closed the cupboard in the boy’s face. “Get off the counter or I will get you down myself.” He warned.
Robin spun around and folded his arms, glowering darkly.
Hal wasn’t impressed. He had stared down Sinestro and seen Kilowog naked. A kid in a bird costume was hardly intimidating after that. “One.” He counted, and god, he sounded just like his father when he said that. “Two-”
Robin leapt off the counter, landing on the tiled kitchen floor with barely a sound. There was a pout playing around his chubby cheeks. “My investigation of you is not finished, Lantern.” He told Hal sternly, jabbing a finger at him. “Batman’s files on you are ever so slightly different from the other members of the Justice League, which leads me to believe you are a mole or government plant.”
Hal blanched. Good lord, what on Earth had Spooky been teaching this child? A government plant?
“I did not expect you to be home for some time. I thought you would stay longer to flirt with the cashier.” Robin continued, folding his arms. “However, your being here does suit my purposes in finding out what makes you interesting to Batman.”
Hal blinked and reached for the groceries. Apparently being batshit insane was something Bruce also taught his little sidekicks. “Pretty sure it’s just because we don’t get on, little bit.” He said instead, pulling out the milk. “Speaking of, does he know you’re here and not in Gotham?”
“I do not need a babysitter, Lantern. As I said, I am more than capable of looking after myself.” Robin said imperiously, peering over the counter at the groceries Hal was unloading.
“So, he doesn’t.” Hal nodded, checking the labels on the spices he had bought, hoping he had remembered to get the ones he needed to make stir fry. “Okay well, I’m going to have to call him and- Robin?”
Hal looked around but the boy had already vanished from the lounge and kitchen.
He put the milk in the fridge and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing a number he had never used before as he walked through the lounge and kitchen quickly. You never knew, Bruce was always good at squeezing into places he shouldn’t fit.
It rang once. “What.” Bruce growled at him darkly.
“Missing something, Spooky?”
“This line is for emergencies only.” Bruce snarled, even more vicious than he normally was.
“Well that’s just rude.” Hal said, pushing open the door to the guest bedroom and scanning it quickly. Aside from the random chair Ollie had given him, it was empty.
“Lantern-”
“Robin.” Hal said, doing his best to keep his voice even as he checked the bathroom and saw that the kid had been at his toiletries, leaving the cupboard doors wide open, and the first aid kit scattered all over the floor. “He’s in my apartment. And making a mess of it too.”
Silence. “He’s with you?” Bruce asked finally and Hal wondered if the relief he heard was imagined or not.
Hal ducked out of the bathroom and opened the door to his bedroom.
Robin had been in here too. Hal had only put away half his clothes before he’d gotten hungry and given up and Robin had apparently gone through the half empty suitcase, because there were shirts and pants all over the floor, rumpled out of the neat folding Hal had done.
“Yes. And he has the same sense of privacy as you do.” Hal growled, closing the door his bedroom and walking down to the door of the tiny office. “That is, none at all.” He said, opening the door and finding Robin on his knees in the middle of the boxes Hal had left in there.
Robin was digging around in one of the boxes Hal had labelled with Carol’s chicken scratch, a familiar blue cap abandoned by his knees. “Is that Batman?” Robin asked, pulling out the dress blues Hal hadn’t worn in years and shaking them out.
Hal crossed the room in two strides and took them off the sidekick, putting them on the desk instead. “Yes, it is. And he says, stop ruining Hal’s things.”
“He does not.” Robin sassed, already back rustling around in the box. “He doesn’t talk like that.” He said, discarding a few worn paperbacks, sending them sliding across the carpet.
“Yes, he does.” Hal retorted absently, crouching down to pick up his old Air Force cap and the engineering degree Robin had abandoned on the floor. He put them on the desk too.
“Lantern, give the phone to him.” Bruce said tiredly.
“There is a suspicious gap in Batman’s records of you, one that he saw fit to lock behind a separate security system.” Robin told Hal seriously, digging through the box with a single minded intensity that might have been impressive if it wasn’t directed at Hal’s life. “And my attempts to hack the file has thus far been unsuccessful-”
Hal paused, disliking where this conversation was going. It was annoying, but he had come to terms with the fact that Bruce probably knew more about Hal’s life than he had any right to.
That didn’t mean he wanted to rehash it with a child.
He had put this box in this tiny, dinky little room with a window that faced a brick wall for a reason.
On the other end of the line, he heard Bruce inhale sharply. “Lantern, give the phone to him now.” He snapped, more Batman than Bruce.
Hal handed the phone to the young sidekick, who had found the blue velvet box that held gold medal denoting Hal’s service to his country as a prisoner of war.
Robin tucked the phone against his ear, opening the box roughly. “Batman, I am investigating Green Lantern. There is no cause for…”
Hal watched, a pit in his stomach, as Robin went still. He could hear Bruce on the other end of the phone. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, only the tone of his voice.
Robin seemed to settle lower against the ground as he examined the medal inside. “I-” He started before falling silent once more. Finally, his head dropped, and he glanced at Hal for a brief moment before looking away. “Yes. I understand.”
Bruce said something else.
“Yes father.” Robin said stiffly, voice hushed.
Father? God this was Bruce’s kid? No wonder he thought breaking into someone’s house and going through their clothes was normal.
Poor kid never had a chance.
Hal held a hand out for the phone and Robin put it in his hand carefully. “Spooky, talk to me.” He said.
“Hal, I’m sorry-”
“It’s fine.” Hal interrupted, and he meant it. He hated hearing apologies when it came to what had happened to him.
Every time someone found out, it was sorry, sorry, sorry. And after that, they crept around him like they expected him to sit in his house and cry while drinking alcohol or be a bitter man who yelled and broke things.
He had worked with Dinah and Barry, and while he would never be over his time in that horrible, underground cell, he had done enough to ensure it didn’t control his life. “He didn’t know.”
“I’ll be by in half an hour to collect him.” Bruce said shortly. “He will be apologizing to you.”
Hal rolled his eyes as Bruce hung up on him without saying goodbye. He put his phone back into his pocket and looked at Robin carefully. He wondered if the child was actually as sorry as he looked, or if he was only cowed because he had been scolded by his father.
Robin was still looking at the gold medal in the plush box. Finally, he closed it carefully and gave it back to Hal.
The office was quiet as Hal shoved the box into a random drawer on his desk.
“I apologise, Lantern.” Robin said, just as stiff as he had been on the phone with his father.
“Mm.” Hal stood, wincing as his knees cracked. “I know you want to investigate the Justice League, make sure we’re up to snuff, but sometimes, things are hidden away for a reason.”
Robin stood up, closing the box with a few deft movements. “You should not hide this.” He insisted. “It’s not something to be ashamed of.”
Hal ushered him out of the room. “That’s not really up to you.” He said firmly, ending the conversation as he steered Robin back into the living room. “Now, Bats will be around in half an hour and I was just about to make lunch. Are you hungry?”
Robin didn’t like peanut butter. Something about preservatives. He also lectured Hal about the sliced ham he had bought, and how consuming meat regularly only fed into the mistreatment and exploitation of animals.
He did, however, begrudgingly accept the raspberry jam Hal offered instead.
Hal had looked up Bruce Wayne after the debacle in Metropolis with Darkseid’s little soldiers, and wouldn’t you know it, Spooky was loaded. So, he half expected his miniature protegee to demand to have the crusts cut off his bread, but Robin just took small, careful bites without complaint.
“This bread is awful.”
Well.
Almost no complaints.
“It’s the only bread I have.” Hal said, spreading his hands over the mess from their lunch.
“It’s too soft and processed.” Robin told Hal, flopping the sandwich around for emphasis, obviously unimpressed. “However, this jam is satisfactory. I will have Pennyworth contact you for the recipe.”
Hal raised an eyebrow. “It’s from a jar.” He joked.
“Obviously.” Robin said indulgently, as if Hal was an idiot.
“No, I mean it’s just from the store.” Hal explained, spinning the jar around to show Robin the label. “It’s nothing special.”
Robin squinted, an unhappy slant to his mouth. “Modern day supermarkets are nothing but sanctioned cartels.” He told Hal grumpily. “They are too large and because of that, they can offer a pittance for a farmer’s hard work. By doing so, they only force more farmers out of the industry and increase our reliance on imported goods.”
Hal raised an eyebrow at the rather astute observation. “How old are you?” He asked curiously, pulling a piece of crust off and popping it into his mouth.
“I am twelve. I will be thirteen soon.” Robin said, and Hal didn’t miss the way he puffed out his chest a little bit.
Apparently, that was universal, crazy dad or not.
They lapsed into silence. Robin was still eating his sandwich with the same single minded intensity he had shown to his whirlwind investigation of Hal’s apartment. “I don’t understand.” Robin said finally, turning his plate around with one hand.
Hal knocked the crumbs off his hand. “Understand what?”
Robin gave him a look as if it should be obvious.
Nothing was ever obvious when it came to Spooky, and Hal supposed that worked for his crazy children too.
“He smiled at you.” Robin said, as if that explained everything.
It did not.
Because humans smiled and Hal wasn’t sure why that was such a strange thing. Or why it warranted breaking into his apartment and traipsing all over his kitchen counters.
“… Okay?”
Robin squinted at him, chin jutting out. “Useless.” He decided, slipping down off the stool and flouncing into the lounge to examine the bits and pieces of Ikea shelf Hal had left on the floor the night before.
Hal shook his head. Robin’s prickly personality was oddly charming. Even if he had insulted Hal and his apartment within two minutes of meeting him.
He picked up their plates, jamming them into the dishwasher haphazardly and kicking it shut.
“These instructions make no sense.” Robin announced. “They are needlessly complicated.”
Hal glanced over from where he was putting away the sandwich stuff. Robin was sitting cross legged in the middle of the still-yet-to-be-built shelf, one hand on his chin as he read the instruction manual, the bag of screws in his other hand. “Yeah, Europeans.” He said by way of explanation.
Robin ignored him, and put the booklet down, picking up a piece of wood instead. “This slop can hardly be called furniture.” He said rudely. “It is nothing but pulped wood and wood laminate masquerading as furniture.”
From a twelve year old the size of a kitten, the statement was hilarious. Hal supposed the kid probably thought it sounded cooler than it did. “My friend picked that out.”
Robin shot him a look. “They must hate you.” He said, going back to the shelf.
Well.
He wouldn’t put it past Carol to buy him hideous shelves as a joke.
Hal pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapping out a message to Carol asking if she had.
She just responded with a question mark, which didn’t help him at all.
Robin muttered something that definitely wasn’t English, and Hal put his phone away, watching as the young sidekick expertly fitted the complicated back panels of the shelf together. He had gotten a miniature screwdriver from somewhere and Hal saw it was painted the in the same colours as his uniform.
It would have been cute if not for the wickedly sharp sword over the child’s shoulder.
There was a sharp knock on the door and Hal glanced over at it.
“That will be father.” Robin said, not moving from his spot as he screwed the back panels together deftly.
Hal raised an eyebrow, but it seemed Robin was more interested in putting the shelf together than going to meet his father, so Hal pushed off the counter and padded over to the door.
It was Bruce on the other side, dressed in a sharp, tailored suit and holding a backpack covered with colourful badges and patches. “Jordan.”
“Hiya Spooky.” He greeted, raising an eyebrow at the bag questioningly and stepping aside to let Bruce in.
He looked like he had just come from work, which, given the time, Hal supposed he probably had.
Hal shut the door and turned around, immediately ramming into Bruce’s back because the other man hadn’t moved out of the way. “What are you doing?” He demanded, skirting past Bruce impatiently. “This hallway isn’t big enough for both us.”
“Why is there a box- You’ve been moved in for over a week now, why haven’t you unpacked?” Bruce demanded, glaring at the long, rectangular box that contained the hall table Carol had picked out.
Hal pushed past him. “We need to talk about boundaries.” He grumbled. “Kid, your parent is here. Time to scram.”
Robin peeked out from behind the wall. “Father.” He greeted formally.
Bruce brushed past Hal. “Go and get changed.” He ordered, holding out the backpack.
Robin scowled at the bag. “You couldn’t have brought one that Nightwing and Fatgirl haven’t ruined?” He asked, demanding and childish. “It looks like a child vomited on it.”
“Go. You’re in no place to argue with me after this stunt.” Bruce ordered, eyes narrowing.
Robin’s scowl deepened, staring up at his father belligerently.
Hal raised an eyebrow. Now that he knew the kid was Bruce’s, he could the similarities in the personality.
Robin caved first and snatched the bag off his father. He stalked off, cape snapping behind him just his fathers did and a moment later the door to the bathroom slammed shut.
The lounge was quiet for a moment.
“Cute kid.” Hal commented jokingly, walking around the couch to clean up the mess Robin had made of his shelves. Really, it was already a mess, but it gave him something to do and there was a game on later that he wanted to watch, and he didn’t want to trip over anything.
“Hal… About today, he didn’t mean to… bring up things that might be uncomfortable for you.” Bruce said finally.
Hal was surprised Bruce’s head didn’t explode. “It’s fine.” He said, pushing the mess of bits of shelf with his foot, trying to get them in some semblance of order.
“No. It’s not-”
“Bruce.” Hal snapped, irritated. “He didn’t know. And while I’d rather he didn’t go through my things or bring it up, it’s not going to send me into a tailspin.”
Bruce’s jaw clenched.
“I’ve had six years to figure out how to deal with it.” Hal said shortly. “I can handle an insensitive kid.”
Bruce looked unconvinced.
“Just drop it before you give yourself an aneurysm.” He muttered, bending to push the shelf into a disorderly pile. He was going to get to it eventually, but he was itching to get down to the gym and work out some of the frustration under his skin that always popped up when someone stared at him with pity in their eyes.
“Thank you.” Bruce said from behind him and sounded like it was causing him genuine pain to even get the words out. “For looking after him.”
Hal looked over his shoulder. “Well I wasn’t going to toss him out on the street. He’s twelve.”
Bruce didn’t say anything.
The shelves clanked together as Hal moved them out of the way of the couch and TV. He didn’t know why he needed so many bookshelves, but Carol was excited and the high from the special Ikea meatballs had worn off, so Hal had just let her buy them.
“That’s not what I meant.” Bruce said finally.
Hal raised an eyebrow, shoving the bag of screws and bolts into one of the drawers on the TV cabinet. He would probably remember where he put them.
“Damian didn’t have a traditional upbringing. He doesn’t understand boundaries the same way other children might.” Bruce explained haltingly, hilariously awkward for a man who dressed up as a bat and taunted aliens on a regular basis.
Hal wanted to say something stupid about how Bruce didn’t have a traditional upbringing either, but he wasn’t that much of an asshole to bring up dead parents. “There’s nothing on your Wikipedia page about another kid.” He said instead.
Bruce grimaced. “It’s a… recent development. I’m still working on finalizing the paperwork.”
Hal kicked a few scraps of cardboard under the couch. “Another orphan? Like the others?” He asked. He had been surprised to find out that Bruce Wayne apparently made a habit out of collecting eerily similar looking children. But then, he also wasn't suprised, because that was Spooky all over. Adopt orphan clones and dress up as a Bat instead of getting therapy.
“No.” Bruce said finally. He glanced at Hal and shrugged. “He’s my biological son.”
Hal snorted. “And you just found out now?” He asked, confused. He wondered who was insane enough to have a kid with Bruce Wayne. And if they knew that Bruce Wayne was secretly the leader of the Justice League.
Probably not.
“It’s complicated.” Bruce said, shoulders slumping in a barely noticeable sigh.
“Does this mean you’re a deadbeat?” Hal joked.
Bruce glowered at him. “Idiot.”
And there it was. “Oh good. We’re back to insults. I was beginning to think you’d been replaced by a pod person.” Hal scoffed, waving a hand. “I think that’s a new record for you anyway. Ten minutes without insulting me or glaring at me.”
Bruce sighed, low and frustrated as he closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He said something under his breath that Hal didn’t quite catch.
“Sorry, what was that?” Hal taunted, putting a hand by his ear. “Speak up, Spooky.”
“I was just trying to thank you.” Bruce snapped, eyes flashing. “Damian can be difficult, even for adults. After what he did, I wouldn’t have blamed you for being angry.”
“He’s a kid.” Hal said with a shrug. “And he’s your kid, so I guess he gets an extra pass for being slightly off the wall.”
Bruce smiled briefly, head dipping as he snorted in amusement. “I just wanted to say that I appre-” Bruce broke off suddenly and narrowed his eyes at the hallway.
Hal followed his gaze and saw nothing but the boxes he had dumped there a week ago. He really needed to unpack those.
“Damian. What have I said about eavesdropping?” Bruce snapped, expression hardening and one hand sliding into the pocket of his suit pants.
Robin- Damian, apparently, strode out of the hallway, backpack slung over his shoulder. He had a narrow eyed glare on his face, and he plodded right up to Hal, looking up at him, expression challenging and hands around the straps of his backpack. “See?” He demanded pointedly.
Hal did not see. “What?” He asked.
He had imagined the miniature kid to look just like Bruce, and he did, right down to the expressive eyebrows and thick hair. The only difference was the green eyes and darker skin.
Damian squinted at Hal for a moment and then looked at his father. “He’s an idiot.” He said incredulously.
Hal looked at Bruce accusingly.
Bruce rolled his eyes. “Damian.” He scolded, though there was definite fondness in his tone.
Damian scowled, letting go of the straps of his backpack and folding his arms. “Blind.” He spat at both Bruce and Hal and stomped out of the lounge and down the hall to the front door. “Father, we need to go. Alfred needs his milk soon or he will think I’ve abandoned him.” He called.
Hal looked at Bruce for clarification.
Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “We have a cat.” He said stiffly.
Hal raised an eyebrow, amused by the idea of Bruce looking after a cat. “You named your cat Alfred?”
“Damian-”
“Father!” Damian snapped impatiently.
Bruce looked pained. “Yes, I’m coming, Damian.” He said, and Hal never thought he'd see the day when the big, bad bat was cowed by a pipsqueak.
Damian was already in the hall, when Bruce and Hal joined him, tapping away on a sleek black phone. He barely looked up as Hal and Bruce joined him, thumbs moving quickly, and eyebrows set in a familiar frown.
Bruce put a hand on his head, tilting it up so the young boy was facing Hal. “Damian.” He prompted.
Damian glowered at his phone and then lowered it. He took a deep breath, drawing up his shoulders. “Thank you for your hospitality, Captain Jordan. Even if your choice in décor and security are abysmal.” He said sassily.
Oh yeah, that was all Bruce.
Hal smiled despite the insult. “Nice meeting you, Damian. Maybe next time, use the front door instead?”
“I did use the front door. You forgot to lock it after you left, and your alarm system wasn’t even engaged.” Damian huffed. “How you can be a hero, I will never understand.” Was all he said before he flounced off down the hallway.
His dramatic exit was stymied slightly by the fact that he had to wait for the elevator.
“I can see the family resemblance.” Hal told Bruce, grinning.
Bruce was giving him a flinty eyed stare, lips pressed together.
“What?"