[Fic] those gentle nights in our youths (DCU)
- Fandom: DCU
- Pairing: Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)/Bruce Wayne
- Tags: What Happens in Vegas
- Word-Count: 614
- Status: Complete
- First Published: 2023-09-18
- Disclaimer: I do not own the DCU, Batman or Green Lantern and make no profit from this—it is solely a hobby for fun, with no financial compensation.
“What happens in Vegas, hm?” Hal strokes his chin, feeling rather like a supervillain.
- For syrennetim.
Fandom Gift Basket 2023
prompt: Bruce Wayne/Hal Jordan + what happens in vegas stays in vegas
Work Text:
“What happens in Vegas, hm?” Hal strokes his chin, feeling rather like a supervillain.
Bruce, because he can never resist correcting someone, says, “Actually, it’s legally binding. So it won’t stay in Vegas, as you say.”
Hal’s eyes twitch, and he resists the urge to throw something at the Bat. Bruce is, as ever, looking absolutely immaculate out here on the balcony. Technically, they maybe shouldn't be spending the first day of their marriage sunburning themselves into crisps on the baloney of a top-level VIP suite of a five-star hotel in Las Vegas, but frankly Hal is a bit beyond caring. He woke up with a hangover and the taste of vomit in his mouth, curled around Bruce like an octopus, the Bat’s hair nearly in his mouth.
His memory of the previous night is mostly of shining lights, the swooping sensation in his stomach from flying in loops, and of drinking. So much drinking. All the drinking.
At least the awkwardness of waking up together with matching wedding rings was dispelled somewhat by the urgent need to lie in the dark and not talk for fifteen hours until the headache faded. Hal counts his lucky stars that he’s managed to drag himself out here at all, and he’s wearing two sunglasses at once just so his head doesn’t explode.
“Not how you thought the night would end, I bet,” Hal murmurs, sipping at his water and squinting down at the world below.
Their chairs are right beside each other, less than a decimeter’s distance, and Hal turns his head to face Bruce. Bruce is doing something on his phone—trying to contain the fallout perhaps, or contacting his league of children. Is it bad that Hal doesn’t technically know how many kids Bruce has? Like, he knows what children are in Bruce’s life, but he doesn’t know which specifically are Bruce’s kids.
Bruce senses his gaze—always seem to—and holds out a hand to him without even looking. Hal sighs, boneless, and grabs the hand. Holds it tight and shuts his eyes, resting to the sound of Bruce’s occasional sighs and buzzing of his phone.
“Alfred will never forgive me,” Bruce says at some point, and Hal huffs, amusement ringing through him.
He leans over the chairs, opening his eyes just enough to see what he’s doing, and Bruce meets. Resting their foreheads together, Hal says, “Carol will kill me.”
“But at least we’ll haunt each other?” Bruce murmurs, and kisses Hal. Sweetly. Softly. Voice rough from last night and breath smelling of toothpaste and oh, he is utterly irresistible.
The kissing turns rather heated for a bit, but eventually Hal’s head protests and he tears himself away. “Sorry,” he offers, squeezing Bruce’s hand. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to tell them.”
Bruce sighs. Squeezes his hand in return, and acknowledges, “It is what is it.”
Hal bites his lip. He scoots his beach chair closer so he can rest his head on Bruce’s shoulder, and rests his aching head again. Pretends he can’t hear the buzzing of his own phone, and instead basks in Bruce’s simple, uncomplicated touch. Delights in the warmth, and the company, and the hand gently caressing his head, fingers sweeping softly through his hair, massaging the scalp.
The sunlight is warm on his skin, too, and the smell of Bruce fills up his nostrils, and the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest is hypnotizing.
And he does, perhaps rather unsurprisingly, fall asleep.
(All the rest of it; the families, the media, the rumors and the pictures—all of that can be dealt with later. But this? This is Hal’s, and he’s not letting go.)