Chapter Text
Stepping into Warrior's, Hal is greeted by the chatter of a miriad alien languages and the sweet-sour smell of strange liquors. Guy is standing behind the bar, listening to a pair of new recruits complain about the food in the dining hall while they gnaw on species-appropriate junk food.
"Hey, Guy," Hal says as he walks up to him and straddles a creaking bar stool. "I promised Barry I'd find a drink strong enough to get him drunk. You have anything on hand?"
"Bolovaxian ale," Guy says without looking up from polishing a glass.
"Already tried it. He said it gave him a pleasant buzz for about ten minutes."
Guy whistles under his breath, impressed.
"I'm gonna have to look into the good stuff that's classified as poison on most planets."
"Thanks," Hal says with a grin and rises to leave. "Put it on my tab when you find it."
"You've got no tab here, Jordo, I know you're broke as shit."
Hal just waves at him over his shoulder, grin not slipping one bit when Guy mutters "asshole" behind him.
***
Hal wakes up with a pounding headache. He opens one eye, takes a minute to conclude he has no idea where the hell he is, and lifts his head to survey his surroundings.
It isn't the worst motel he has stayed at but it's no Ritz. The morning light pours in between the curtains in a golden stripe and wraps around Barry's frame sleeping next to him. Huh. Why is Barry in his bed?
Hal squints and tries to remember how he got there. He was heading back to Earth to deliver Guy's concoction, only to be alerted to a League emergency on reentry. He saved Barry from some flying monster which called for a celebration as soon as the battle was over.
He invited Barry to his place in Coast City and presented him the alien beverage Guy had found. It came in a metal can that started smoking like dry ice as soon as Hal cracked it open. Barry gave the highlighter-pink liquid a dubious look when Hal poured him a shot. The fluorescent monstrosity bubbled and smelled like it could burn paint off furniture so Hal stuck to whiskey while Barry took a hesitant sip.
His memories get blurry around there.
It's clear enough he got drunk; what's confusing is why he's in the same bed as Barry. Surely he wasn't stupid enough to repeat the Constantine fiasco...? Way to hit rock bottom then bring out the jackhammer.
He looks over to Barry sleeping next to him and tries to asses the damage. They're still wearing their clothes from last night, their belts looped around their waists, so they probably didn't do anything too wild. With any luck, they just crashed on the nearest horizontal surface and fell asleep right away. Hal's muscles relax and he glances at his ring to make sure it's still there.
Except he finds two rings on his fingers, a silver band resting next to the calming weight of the Green Lantern one.
The hell? He glances at Barry and yeah, he's also wearing a ring. It's silver too so at least Hal doesn't have to feel guilty about Barry breaking the bank—and it must have been Barry buying, given the state of Hal's finances.
He wracks his brain trying to remember what happened the night before. There was... terrible jazz music, and dancing, and lots of giggling. And a chapel. Fuck. Figures, getting drunk off his ass is the only way Hal would ever get married.
A soft mrr sound next to him has him focusing on Barry, on how the morning light slipping past the heavy curtains makes his hair gleam like gold.
"Morning," Barry says, then frowns. "Why am I in your bed?"
The bastard looks well-rested and fresh as a daisy. Hal could use a bit of that speedster metabolism right now because he feels like he got hit by a freight train.
"No idea," he mumbles without lifting his head.
"Where are we anyway?"
"No idea."
Barry clambers out of bed and hurries to the window, yanking open the curtains. The light stabs at Hal's eyeballs and he buries his face into his pillow with a grumble, mourning his chance to go back to sleep and deal with this shit later.
"Is that the Strat?" Barry asks, aghast. "But we were in Coast City, how did we... Did I run to Vegas drunk?!"
"I'm pretty sure I got us here with the ring," Hal says into his pillow. "Spatial warps, remember?"
"That's still irresponsible!"
"Speaking of being irresponsible in Vegas," he holds up his hand as he squints at Barry, "we're wearing, uh, what I assume are wedding rings. Any idea how that happened?"
Barry pales and looks down at his own hand.
"No way."
Hal flops back on his pillow and grimaces when the sudden movement makes his headache worse.
"This is more embarrassing than the last time I ended up in Vegas."
Barry makes a noise of acknowledgement and continues what Hal assumes is his silent freakout.
"Sorry about this mess, Barr," Hal says, eyes closing sleepily. "Sometimes I don't know why you put up with me."
***
They don't tell anyone about it, of course, because they'd never hear the end of it. That, and Ollie would kill him for not making him the best man at the wedding, even though he'd have hated Hal's choice of husband. They'll divorce quietly and no one will be the wiser.
Hal sits in his empty apartment, browsing job listings in Coast City and, once desperation hits, the wider Bay Area. He finds himself on an aviation firefighting and rescue website. It suits his skillset and sounds like important work, plus he has the required flight hours for multiple planes in their fleet. He could save lives outside his superhero gig and fly planes at the same time. It's a match made in heaven.
Hal's excitement cools as he scrolls down. They do background checks. It makes sense, they only want squeaky clean people to watch their backs in a crisis, not someone with a dishonorable discharge who can't follow orders.
He puts down his phone and slumps back in his chair, staring out the window. So much for that idea.
He hoped he could at least fix one area of his life after that fuckup in Vegas. He looks down at the ring still on his finger, biting at his lip as he takes it off. He lets it rest on his palm for a moment, watching the light run around its edge, then he shoves it into his pocket.
He picks up his phone again to call Barry. He has no idea which state they have to file the divorce papers in and he might as well take care of that particular problem while he has plenty of free time.
Half an hour later, Barry is sitting at his kitchen island to discuss the divorce face to face. It's more polite, apparently. Nevermind that the relationship isn't real, Barry still wants to do things properly.
"Why is this so complicated?" Hal asks, frustration mounting as he scrolls through miles of legal documents.
"It's alright, Hal, we've got plenty of time to figure it out."
Hal gives him a grateful glance.
"I just want to get it over with so it doesn't cause further problems. It could be hard to explain you're married, I mean, if you're seeing anyone."
"My love life has been nonexistent since my relationship with Patty ended."
"I thought you've tried dating since then?"
Barry sighs.
"Unsuccessfully. My last date kept circling back to what a strange name 'Bartholomew' was. Over and over and over again. Next time, I'm only giving out a nickname."
Hal grins mischievously.
"Have you tried going by Romeo?"
"How do you get Romeo out of Bartholomew?"
Before Hal can explain it, the window of his small kitchen explodes, fire and shards of glass filling the small space.
Heat burns Hal's skin and he expects molten hot glass to slice him open but the sensation retreats. He blinks his eyes open and finds himself looking up at Barry's jawline as he's carried down a flight of stairs. The door of the building bangs open and they're on the street with flames and hot glass raining from above.
"Is this Sonar throwing a fit because I haven't been paying attention to him lately?" Hal asks and jumps out of Barry's arms.
It's not Sonar. It's someone Hal doesn't recognize, hovering near the burning remains of Hal's window with a flamethrower-like gadget in his hands and trying to get inside. Hal and Barry exchange a glance and suit up.
The guy lets out a shout when a glowing green net tangles around his body and forces him to the ground. Whoever he is, he didn't account for having to face the Flash because as soon as he hits the pavement, Barry snatches the gizmo out of his hands and they disappear to parts unknown.
Broken glass crunches under Hal's boots when he touches down in the middle of the empty street. Approaching sirens pierce the air and a wide-eyed shopkeeper emerges from behind a dumpster. What a mess.
"I left him at the police station and alerted the League to look into his background," Barry says when he appears by Hal's side a moment later. "I also called the fire department."
Hal thanks him, distracted by the flames devouring his place and filling the street with the stench of smoke. He'll have to beg Carol to let him stay at her penthouse for the night. He cringes at the thought. She may not let him stay after their last breakup.
"Looks like I'm homeless again," he says and brushes a fluttering piece of ash off his shoulder.
Barry sighs.
"I have an empty couch."
***
Hal arrives with a sheepish smile and two duffel bags thrown over his shoulders. Everything he owned that wasn't in storage or in his pockets burned to a fine crisp so he doesn't have a lot to haul around in the move. Barry ushers him into the living room and helps him settle in, letting him borrow some T-shirts and several pairs of jeans that are entirely too snug on his ass.
They end up in the kitchen eventually, Hal insisting on cooking dinner as a thank you.
"I know the last couple of days have been chaotic," Barry says, sitting at the kitchen island as he watches Hal work on the other side, "but at least we got drunk-married to someone we actually get along with."
"You could certainly do worse than me."
Better too, but he doesn't say that part out loud.
Barry smiles at him and leans his chin on his hand.
"I don't know, you don't really strike me as husband material."
"We'll see," Hal says. "My cooking skills are limited but I do make a mean chili."
He hooks an apron around his neck, huffing out a laugh when he notices the text printed on it says 'Kissing the cook is a fire hazard. Proceed with caution.' Barry is such a dork.
"That sounds ominous," Barry says while Hal is hunting for the ingredients. "If I have to be the breadwinner and the cook, what exactly are you bringing to this relationship?"
Hal smiles down at the green peppers he's chopping.
"I'm the eyecandy," he says and looks up long enough to wink. It's probably obnoxious but it gets a laugh out of Barry. "I'm getting a job as soon as I can, though. I don't actually want to freeload."
Barry asks about what kind of job he's looking for and the rest of the night is spent discussing his plans and the logistics of living together.
A few days later, Hal drops by his brother's place in Coast City to give him his new address and to catch up. He doesn't tell him he got drunk-married, partly because he's trying to act like he has his shit together and partly because Jim would secretly feel hurt he and his family weren't invited to the wedding.
By the time Hal gets back to Central, Barry is dozing on the couch, his face only illuminated by his laptop open on the coffee table. A Carl Sagan audiobook is playing quietly in the background. Hal smiles to himself when he realizes it's Pale Blue Dot.
He lets Barry rest and walks into the dark kitchen to order takeout for dinner on a hushed tone. He isn't in the mood to spend the evening researching divorce lawyers anyway. It's just paperwork; it'll get done eventually.
***
Hal gets all his documentation, certificates, and medical stuff in order and lands a part time job as a flight instructor at an airfield outside Central that didn't look too hard into his background. Small civilian planes aren't his favorite birds to fly but a job is a job and he finally has some money in his account.
Barry waved off his offer to pay rent but he lets him get groceries and whatever else needs buying so Hal manages to retain his sense of dignity.
Life with Barry is... chill. The bills are always paid on time even if Hal is away from Earth and he doesn't have to worry about returning to an eviction notice taped to his door. It's tempting to make it a permanent arrangement for convenience's sake but he feels like a bother as it is, especially whenever he sees Barry burried in case files late into the night. He knows Barry would do that even if Hal wasn't around but he can't help feeling for the guy.
"Hey," he says one day and pulls a manila folder out of Barry's hands. "You need to slow down."
"What do you mean?" Barry asks with furrowed brows and reaches for the folder.
Hal keeps it out of his grasp.
"You bring work home all the time and you've been overworking yourself even more than usual. You deserve a break."
"Hal—"
"Your dedication is admirable but you're gonna start making mistakes sooner or later if you keep this up, pal." He pauses. "Please, only for tonight."
Barry seems to consider that for a moment before he sighs.
"Fine."
"Great!" Hal says and tosses the folder on the coffee table. "How about a movie?"
"As long as you don't pick Independence Day."
"What's wrong with Independence Day?"
"We've watched it a million times already."
"Alright Mr Movie Critic, it's your break, it's only fair you choose what we watch," Hal says as he gets comfortable on the couch. "I maintain the right to be annoying about it, though."
Barry's laughter fills him with a sense of contentment.
***
The street is in ruins, car alarms are blaring, and pillars of bitter-tasting smoke are rising all around him, lowering visibility enough to make clean-up more complicated. For such a quick fight, the damage caused by the stray Amazo is impressive.
Supes and Bats are dealing with what remains of the robot while Hal is casually shoveling rubble out of the way with a construct so the EMTs can get to the injured civilians. It's not challenging work, he's done in literal seconds, but his pulse is still up from all the danger and excitement, his senses heightened, and he's ready to climb the walls just to get the adrenalin out of his system.
He sometimes gets like this after fights that go well, keyed up on residual hormones coursing through him, nowhere to go after the action is over.
Even his uniform clings to his body differently, like he's more aware of how hot and cold it is pressed against his skin. He shifts on his feet and rolls his neck, looking for something to do. A good fuck would help, something fast and hard to burn off all the excess energy and tire him out until he feels like melting into a puddle.
"Are you alright?" Barry asks as he comes to a stop next to him.
"Just antsy," Hal says. "Must be the adrenalin."
"Do you want help with that?"
He sure does, preferably bent over the table on the Watchto—
Hal has no idea where that thought came from. Clearly he hasn't got laid in too long.
"What do you have in mind?" he asks and clears his throat when his voice comes out deeper than usual.
"Race ya!" Barry says cheerfully and he's off.
Hal's shoulders slump but he can't help the amused grin twisting his lips as he follows Barry anyway.
***
Several days later, Hal is watching late-night reality TV while waiting for Barry to get home, determined to stay up however long it takes the speedster to return.
Phone in hand, he's half-heartedly scrolling through rental listings that are way out of his price range to feel like he's doing something useful. It takes him a solid ten minutes to realize he's been browsing ads in Central when he should be working on getting his shit together in Coast City. He tosses his phone onto the couch with a tired sigh and goes back to watching Kate-something-or-other marry her fiancé she met a week before. At least Hal isn't the only one whose life is a trainwreck.
He pulls the silver ring out of his pocket. It's a wonder he hasn't had a freakout about being married, given his history with relationships. Not that he and Barry are in a relationship but still, it should have happened by now.
The door clicks and Hal pockets the ring in a hurry just as Barry, clad in Flash gear, materializes right in front of him. He looks exhausted and his costume is torn in several places.
"You alright?" Hal asks with a worried frown as he sits up. "What happened?"
Barry pushes back his cowl and winces as he starts peeling himself out of his costume.
"Just a run-in with Cold. I ate a bit of pavement but I'll be fine by dinner."
He pulls the costume down his side and it's Hal's turn to wince. Barry's skin is red from armpit to hip, bruised and scraped.
Hal stands and steps closer, reaching out without thinking.
"You need anything? Gauze? Antibiotic cream?"
"No, it's..." Barry trails off when Hal's fingertips make contact with his skin to brush off bits of asphalt still stuck in the abrasions.
Hal could swear he sees the redness around the area fade in real time, wounds closing and bruises fading until he's touching warm, flawless skin.
Right. Barry, blushing and half naked with the top part of his costume hanging around his hips, looks good enough to eat. Hal clears his throat and pulls away before he could do something stupid like fall to his knees and lick a line up those abs.
"I'll... I'll make dinner then," Hal says, forgetting entirely he can't cook worth shit.
He needs to go on a long space mission ASAP and clear his head because what the fuck was that?