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“Remind me again,” Hal said, starting a question he’s asked before, “why am I the one driving?”
As he put on the blinker and turned the steering wheel to the left to make the turn, crossing a four way intersection bereft of any other vehicle, in Nowheresville USA, at close to 6 pm, he gave a quick glance at the man sitting on the passenger seat to his right. Said man was wearing a black hoodie and dark jeans, beautiful face lit up with the glare of a tablet he was swiping at, and decidedly not minding Hal at all. Bruce answered him in a monotonous tone, “because you are the only one of us that has a working driver’s license.”
“Uh huh. Yeah, you said. But why?”
“Because you are the only…”, Bruce once again answered, in a slow manner, repeating the earlier statement, but Hal cut in, “no, I heard you.”
“Then why are you repeating your question.” Bruce rejoined, but more a statement than a question. Hal bit back a sigh before he answered, “‘coz you never actually explained why I’m the only one that has a working driver’s license.”
And it was true, Bruce didn’t actually explain why Hal had to be the one driving the 5 year old black Ford Expedition with three other men in tow. Two can fly, one can run at mach speed, and the last one drove obscenely expensive sports cars and Batmobiles on a daily basis. Between the four of them, they didn’t need to be chauffeured by Hal in a rental. It was, he thought, actually a little bit ridiculous. It’s like a setup to a particularly bad joke- four superheroes get into a car, and so on. He slowed to a stop as they got to a three way junction, and glanced back again at Bruce.
“Clark takes the train. Barry takes the bus. You drive a car.” Bruce eventually answered, eyes still glued on the tablet screen. Hal looked back to the road and started driving again. “Yeah, and you? You also drive, like, all the time.”
“Expired.”
“I’m sure.” Hal answered in close to a mutter. Then his tone lightened. “I guess no one’s gonna give a ticket to either Batman or Mr. Wayne, huh?”
“Coast City’s infrastructure is car dependent and doesn’t have a good public transportation system.” Bruce commented, entirely unbidden, as if that explained why his driver’s license was expired. Hal laughed a little at this, as he stared down the one lane road that had no lighting save for the headlights, not offended on behalf of his city, because it was true anyway. He chuckled. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
The car lapsed into a few minutes of silence, as the four men early on in the trip could not agree on what to listen to. Barry and Clark, god bless them, had offered to connect their phones to play some podcast or other, which Hal wasn’t keen on, not entirely looking forward to listening to an even toned voice drone about scientific discoveries or political discussions for hours when he had to drive. Bruce didn’t offer anything at all. They listened to the radio for a while, settling on a station that played nothing but the best, greatest hits from the past, according to the overly enthusiastic dj, and Hal had hummed along to some classic rock anthems, but eventually found the commercials and jingles annoying enough to turn it off. So Hal started conversations every now and then, which were, to the surprise of the two passengers in the back, directed mostly to Bruce. Who, to the even greater surprise of Barry and Clark, actually engaged.
“You guys ok back there?” Hal asked, and heard Clark reply with a “yes” and Barry with a “yup”. Then he glanced back at Bruce, and posed another question, “so if Coast City’s public transport is so shit that I have to drive to go anywhere, what’s your excuse to be driving all the time in Gotham?” Bruce responded dryly, “why do you think?”, and Hal laughed. “Oh, yeah, forgot you’re a billionaire for a second. Must be nice.”
“It has its perks.” Bruce replied, close to nonchalant. Hal quickly rejoined, “Mm. I bet. All the Porsches, Ferraris, and Maseratis you can drive.”
“And not one speeding ticket.” Bruce deadpanned, finally looking up from the tablet to turn his head toward Hal, a small quirk at the corner of his lips. The almost-kind-of joke made Hal give a hearty laugh as he returned his attention to the road.
Hal briefly glanced at the rearview mirror, and completely missed the shared look between Clark and Barry.
*
It actually started three months ago. Bruce and Hal returned from a mission, something about alien weapon technology getting into Gotham. Bruce, without any other recourse, asked Hal to assist in the identification and eventual seizure of the alien tech. Hal, with great reluctance, agreed. One was loath to have any other hero in his city, the other didn’t like the first one all that much. That mission lasted a week. And then, when they arrived back at the Hall of Justice, they were strangely amiable with each other. Well, as amiable as Bruce could get, which wasn’t very much, or even at all. Hal, on the other hand, was nearly affable.
Clark thought that was a good development overall. At least the two men were no longer in a constant loop of being occasionally annoying (Hal) and passively annoyed (Bruce) with one another. It was good, and probably made for better team dynamics. He commented as much to Bruce, who didn’t answer verbally, but continued to type away at the computer without a remark about Hal’s carelessness during missions, as he sometimes did before.
It went from non-sarcastic brief exchanges to cordial talk and then to something close to banter. Hal, of course, did most of the talking, but Bruce responded every now and then, something he didn’t usually do with anyone else but Clark, and even then not all the time.
Then, in the second month, the touching started. Little innocuous touches, a pat on the back, a hand on the shoulder, a nudge on the arm. Clark knew Hal was a tactile person, and demonstrative to people he got along with like Barry, but he also knew that Bruce was definitely not the same. And Bruce just let it happen. Meanwhile the most he can do is stand close enough but not too close to touch shoulders with the man, with his hands clasped firmly behind him, lest an errant brush of the back of their hands happen, and wouldn’t that be awkward.
And then, in the third month, it was the shared coffees, and once or twice an offered piece of pastry. Again, Hal initiated, and again, Bruce did not rebuff. Clark always had to suffer through a half hour of debate whenever he tried to get Bruce to eat even just a piece of toast, and yet a proffered chocolate glazed donut and a cup of black coffee from Hal didn’t even get anything more than a “hn” before being accepted.
At the month-end league meeting, he was surprised yet again to find Hal was early to attend and already seated in Clark’s usual seat, which was at the end of the long table to the right of Bruce. He then had no choice but to take the nearest one to the left, being too polite to ask to be given his seat, because it’s not like it’s his official seat, it’s just where he usually sat. And anyway, Bruce didn’t seem to mind, even with Hal casually leaning to the left arm of the chair, chin propped in hand, amused look on his face as they engaged in something like a whispered conversation, the chairs moved close enough to each other to do so.
The meeting started, and as it went on Hal was still leaning to the left, casually lounged in the chair next to Bruce- his chair. Well, not really. But, kind of. It was all Clark can do to not huff in annoyance. As J’onn launched into the second hour of the minutiae of some report, he happened to look to the seat across his, which was occupied by Barry. The man was glancing furtively every now and then to his left, face a little perturbed. As Barry looked away from his left, they caught each other’s eyes, and they shared a look of perplexity.
Once the meeting concluded, before Clark could begin to ask Bruce a question about it and discuss the proceedings in the conference room after everyone had left, as they usually do, Hal talked first.
“Hey, it’s your turn to buy coffee.” Hal said to Bruce as he got up, tone light and a little teasing. And Bruce actually nodded, got up, and left with Hal, presumably to buy him a cup of coffee.
*
Eventually everyone else left the conference room and all that was left was Clark and Barry, who shared another perplexed look between the two of them. Then they both got up and walked slowly towards the break room, half expecting to find their friends there by the coffee machine. They walked in silence, both too much of a polite Midwesterner to be the first to comment. Only when they got to the break room, Hal and Bruce weren’t there. They looked at each other again, this time baffled. Maybe your turn to buy coffee was a code phrase, Clark’s mind treacherously supplied, and he stopped himself before he could think of what such a code phrase meant.
“They’re getting along well, aren’t they?” Clark said, more to distract himself from the train of thought. Barry nodded, and carefully answered, “yes. It’s a nice change of pace, I guess.”
They nodded slowly to each other, agreeing, but their eyes tried to gauge each other’s true reaction. Barry worried at his lower lip, and Clark pursed his lips. They then started talking at the same time, as if the dam broke.
“Where can Bruce even buy coffee? Outside? In the batsuit?”
“Hal doesn’t even like coffee! He’s an energy drink kind of guy!”
They stopped, both surprised at each other’s near outburst. And then Clark smiled in relief while Barry laughed a little. He said, “it's a little unusual isn’t it?” to which the other hurriedly nodded and agreed, “it’s certainly odd.” Now it was Clark who gave a little laugh. “Well, it’s good to know I’m not the only one who noticed.” Barry now shook his head in commiseration, and replied, “you and me both.” They took to a table, and continued the conversation in a more even tone, careful about anyone entering the room.
“When did you notice?” Barry began, and Clark thought a bit before he answered, “the very day they came back from the Gotham mission.”
“Oh?” Barry asked, an eyebrow arched. “Right then? It took me about two weeks. When I noticed Hal stopped calling Bruce a…” Here he stopped to think of a not too impolite term that his best friend used to describe Clark’s best friend. “A hardass when we talked about league stuff.”
Clark gave a little shrug, and replied, “When they returned, Bruce didn’t even make one comment about Hal’s…” Here he stopped to think of a not too impolite term that his best friend used to describe Barry’s best friend. “Reckless fighting strategy.”
They nodded to each other again.
“Honestly? I was relieved. I thought, finally, they’re not at each other’s throat all the time.” Barry said. “But when did you notice they were, uh, getting close?” He grimaced a little, and tried to clarify. “Er, getting friendlier? Uh. More…” he gestured with his hand, trying to find a term that described exactly what he tried to say. “Getting along-along?” He finished, unsure. He didn’t really want to know what getting along-along meant, even if he was the one who said it.
For his part, Clark didn’t like the feeling he got in his chest when he heard the question, but masked it behind a polite smile. “I suppose when Hal started being…” he stopped, not wanting to use the word handsy, but what else was it then. “I mean when the physical contact started.” He wrinkled his nose slightly, not sure if he even liked the term physical contact when in connection to Bruce and Hal.
“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t take too much notice of it at first, after all, Hal can get very affectionate.” Barry replied unthinkingly, and Clark stopped himself from saying that he doesn’t think Hal was affectionate to anybody but Barry- demonstrative to others, perhaps. But affectionate had a connotation to it that he didn’t want to connect to a certain brooding dark knight. He waited for Barry to continue, who did. “It’s. Well. Hal’s a bit of a flirt, and he does it with everyone.” Then Barry’s brows wrinkled. “Well maybe not to, you know. Not until after that mission.” He sat a bit with that thought. Hal was a bit of a flirt, and it didn’t bother him all that much, so why did it feel like this time it did.
The two of them gave the word flirt some thought. Then they spoke at the same time once again.
“Do you think…”
“Are they…”
They stopped, and frowned.
“Surely…”
“Probably…”
They stopped again, frowns deepening. They stared at each other for some time, minds racing a mile a minute.
“Well,” Barry said eventually, trying to shake his thoughts away, “it’s their business. I guess.” Clark sighed a bit, and nodded his head. “Yes, I suppose it is.” Barry looked to the side, worrying at his lower lip again, while Clark looked down at the table with lips thinned. The door to the break room opened, and they both quickly turned to see Hal walk in, talking over his shoulder to Bruce, who followed behind, both interestingly sans coffee. They looked to each other again, but this time for an unspoken agreement to never bring up what they talked about earlier.
“Hey.” Barry was first to greet, and Hal turned to him with a slightly surprised smile, and then greeted back, “hey yourself!” Hal then grabbed an empty seat and pulled it to their table, sat down while keeping a hand on Barry’s shoulder. Bruce, on the other hand, went straight to the coffee machine, and started making two cups. He then goes to the same table, as Clark pulls a chair for him, and he hands the other cup to Hal, who draws his hand off Barry’s shoulder to take it with a smile. Clark was distinctly aware that he didn’t get a cup.
“You’ve been drinking lots of coffee lately.” Barry commented towards Hal, who gave an affable smile before taking a sip. “Yeah? Guess I’m trying something new.”
Barry didn’t know if he was reading too much into such an innocuous statement, but had a feeling that Clark was thinking the same thing. He opted to continue the conversation instead. “I guess that’s better than an energy drink.” Hal gave a little laugh as he put down his cup. “Maybe. Supposed to be healthier, but they’re both acidic anyway.” Barry frowned a bit, and replied, “why drink at all then?” Hal turned toward him and with a pleasing smile rejoined, “guess I just want to be sociable.” Barry didn’t know what to reply to that statement, so he just nodded and shrugged.
On the other side of the table, Clark silently watched Bruce drink his coffee in equal silence. Then, Bruce half turned his head towards Clark, and asked in a low voice, “did you want a coffee as well?” Clark was then aware of having been staring, and quickly clarified, “uh, no. No. I’m good.” Bruce regarded him for a bit, and then turned back to look ahead, which for Clark unfortunately meant the man was now looking at Hal, and then continued to drink his coffee.
What Clark and Barry really wanted to ask, as the two other men continued to drink their coffee, the question itching to be said out loud, was “why are you just now having coffee if you went to get some right after the meeting? Where did you go and what were you doing and please don't tell me but also please tell me I need to know is there something going on between the two of you?”
“Oh, hey,” Hal said, cutting through Clark and Barry’s momentary silent agitation, as he addressed Bruce, “about the follow up mission. When are we leaving again?”
“Day after next.”
“Ah. For how long, again?”
“Three days.”
“Purely reconnaissance, right?”
Bruce put down his cup, and absolutely didn’t sigh, although he very well could have, given his bearing. “Do you never read mission briefs?” Hal leaned on the table, and replied with a teasing smile, “Mm. Maybe. Or maybe I just want to listen to you explain the mission.”
Barry slowly moved his head to the side to look at anywhere else, while Clark gazed at the toaster by the pantry with a thousand yard stare. They vaguely heard the rest of the conversation as they tried very hard to astral project to a place where their best friends were not kind of about to flirt maybe.
The resulting conversation, thankfully, remained only about the mission. Recon work to follow up on a lead about the influx of alien tech, a warehouse in the middle of nowhere where they have to drive to for half a day. Not cape work, more incognito.
Clark was first to come back from whatever place his mind went off to. He cleared his throat, and offered, “do you need assistance?” Bruce and Hal paused in discussion to look at him. He clarified. “With the mission, I mean. Do you need back up?”
Hal looked to Bruce, waiting for his decision. Bruce replied with what Clark by now knew as his conflict resolution voice, though it didn’t really change that much from his regular even tone. “It’s simple reconnaissance. Superman does not need to make an appearance.” Clark answered back, mildly affronted, “well I wouldn’t be Superman for it, right? Undercover, you said. And anyway, if you did suddenly need Superman, then I’m already there.”
The two engaged in a silent battle of wills for some moment, until Hal spoke up, “you know, Supes here can make the job easier. Superhearing and xray vision and all that.”
Bruce gave Clark a long, cool look before adjusting the plan in his mind, and then nodded in agreement. Clark tried not to smirk in triumph, but only just. Then he realized he just invited himself to a three day event where he was going to be in the presence of two men who may or may not be having a thing, so he looked at Barry and in what he endeavored to be a nonchalant voice, asked, “you want to come with?”
“Huh? What?” Barry said, a deer caught in the headlights.
Bruce and Hal once again paused in discussion and this time turned to look at Barry, who was staring at Clark. Eventually Barry found his voice and said, “er, I guess?”
A pause, and then Hal said, “Flash could be handy to have in the back pocket. Perimeter work, disarming alarms in one go, stuff like that.”
The three men turned to look at Bruce, who by now looked like the human embodiment of a long suffering sigh. When he eventually nodded in agreement, Hal leaned back in his chair and with an easy smile declared, “there we go then. The more the merrier.” Meanwhile, Barry and Clark were going through a nonverbal argument with meaningful yet minute facial and body cues, as only two very polite men can do.
*
And so, as their vehicle entered the beginning of a town, by 8:30 pm, Clark and Barry felt relief, for more than just the prospect of finally having dinner and the chance to stretch cramped legs. Throughout the drive, it was kind of unnerving to hear their best friends kind of banter and do normal things and it stirred up some confusing thoughts and feelings they would rather not examine too closely. Oh, they joined in the conversation, but at times it was just Hal and Bruce talking to each other, as one drove and the other did work on a tablet.
At one point, Hal asked Barry for an energy drink, and as he tried to hand it over Bruce just wordlessly took it from him, opened the tab, and proffered it himself. Hal took it unseeing, drank, and handed it off back to Bruce, who placed it in the cupholder between them. And anytime Hal needed a drink, Bruce would hand him the can from the cupholder, wait for him to finish taking a pull, and then take it back to replace it in the cupholder once more. The snacks were worse. They watched Bruce actually unwrap mint candies for Hal. And the chips? Well. They didn’t even use GPS, Bruce navigating for Hal instead. It was normal, totally normal things a person riding shotgun would do, they told themselves.
And why was Bruce even riding shotgun, that’s what they’d like to know. Before Barry could even come close to the door Bruce had already opened it and deposited himself in the seat. Clark and Barry shared a look, and just took to the seats in the back, trying to figure out which side would be better for them- Clark was taller, but Barry was all legs. Anyway, wherever they ended up seating, they still had front row seats to a totally normal, totally fine interaction between Bruce and Hal.
When they watched Hal reach up and pull down the sun visor on Bruce’s side to shield the man from the afternoon glare, totally unbidden, and Bruce replied a “hm” in lieu of thanks, Barry had to look outside the window immediately to peruse some passing road sign, and Clark had never wanted to renew his driver’s license more in his life.
Even at the gas station, where Hal got the energy drink and the snacks to keep him awake for the whole drive, it was him and Bruce who went into the store. Oh, they were asked what they wanted to get, but then the two men kind of just wordlessly went by themselves. Probably so Hal could walk around and stretch his legs, having been driving, and probably so Bruce can pay for the stuff, being the one with the money, they told themselves. So Clark and Barry just busied themselves with stretching and not talking about it at all.
By nightfall they just kind of resigned themselves to it, and kept mostly quiet as they decided to try to sleep, and that meant Hal and Bruce were left to just talk to each other. And then, and then, the conversation. Not really a conversation, more like a quick exchange.
Hal had said, off-handedly, “hey, run me through the mission brief again.” To which Bruce merely replied, “I already have.” And Hal laughed, in a teasing manner, and then said, “yeah, ok, but just go over it again.” Then Bruce, after a pause, started talking about the mission, but then Hal cut in, in a low voice just a hair’s breadth away from suggestive, said, “Bruce, this time do it slowly.” A very pregnant pause, one wherein two pairs of eyes immediately opened wide. Barry felt his heart speed up at hearing Hal’s voice, in that tone.
And then Bruce replied, “don’t push your luck, Jordan.” And there, the tiniest, smallest smidgen of what might be construed as maybe fondness, but only if you squint really hard, and comes with heavy plausible deniability. Clark felt all the air punched out of his lungs at hearing Bruce’s voice, in that tone.
Then suddenly Hal laughed boisterously, and thank god for that because Clark and Barry immediately took the chance to pretend wake up, and went about the business of asking about where they are now, and how far to go, and so on and so forth, united in the goal of burying that moment under small talk and sundry matters.
When they pulled up to what was probably the only diner in town, Clark and Barry couldn’t get out of the car fast enough, while Bruce and Hal took their time. It made sense that Hal would, being the driver and all that, but Bruce probably needed to put away his tablet and fix whatever other things he had to fix, they told themselves. Hal put his hands on his back and arched backward, making it crack, and groaned. Bruce just stood by the car, waiting as Hal stretched, while Clark and Barry politely waited nearer the diner doors, watching the other two.
“You go on ahead, I’mma walk around and stretch my legs.” Hal said, and Bruce nodded. But before Bruce left, Hal said again, “hey, don’t forget your glasses.” Bruce reached into the pocket of his hoodie and fished out what looked to be like large framed eyeglasses. He wordlessly put them on, and Hal gave him a pleased smirk. “There. Your college emo boyfriend look is complete. It even comes with Converse high tops.” As Bruce pulled up the hood over his head, he commented dryly in parting, “As do your college jock boyfriend look.” Hal just laughed, knowing he did look the part in a generic black university letterman jacket, jeans, and yes, high tops. Clark and Barry shared a look, and just decided to go in ahead.
Once inside, they opt for a booth near the end, away from the doors, and with a look of understanding and synchronized movement between them, Clark got Bruce to sit in the inside of the booth with him on one side while Barry took the inside of the seat on the other. Which meant, Hal would sit beside Barry and across Clark. If any flirting was going to happen during dinner, it would have to happen diagonally across, and maybe that can be a deterrent of some sort.
As Barry busied himself with looking over the laminate menus, Clark tried to make small talk. He leaned his elbows on the table and turned his head towards Bruce, who was looking through his phone. “Didn’t know you wore glasses.” he began with a smile, and Bruce gave him a cursory glance before going back to his phone. “I don’t.” Ah, yes. Of course he knew, Clark thought. He continued, “it looks good on you at least. Though, why?” Bruce didn’t even look up to reply, “it works for you.” Clark considered this, and then shrugged. “I guess it’s a disguise as good as any.”
It did look good on Bruce. Made him look more approachable, along with the rest of the getup. Oh, it’s all probably still criminally expensive, and he still looked devastatingly handsome, of course. Clark for his part just looked like Clark- messy hair, plaid flannel shirt, regular work jeans, equally fake glasses. What kind of boyfriend did he look like, he thought.
From behind the laminate menus, Barry screwed his eyes shut for a second. If he knew everyone was going to be flirting with everyone else, he probably wouldn’t have agreed to come.
*
After a few minutes Hal arrived, and slid into his seat and put his arm on the back of it. “Whatcha getting, Bar?” He asked, and Barry murmured, “probably the country fried steak.” Hal leaned close to Barry’s side and perused the menu in his hands. “I’ll get the chicken then. We can split the loaded fries.”
Eventually the food came, and without a word Hal deposited half of his fried chicken order and most of the mashed potatoes onto Barry’s plate, knowing the steak is not nearly enough for a speedster. For Clark, he got a good old fashioned burger and fries, and managed to convince Bruce to order the tomato soup and grilled cheese, half of which he knows he’ll end up eating himself.
Dinner passed uneventfully, with some conversation now and then, none of which came from Bruce. And then, as Hal leaned back and placed his arm over the back of the seat, taking exactly just five pieces of fries that he said he would share with Barry so that his friend can have most of it, Clark asked him a question.
“So, what kind of boyfriend am I, do you think?”
Hal paused mid-bite. Barry slowly put down his fork on the plate, not looking anywhere. Even Bruce stopped from typing something on his phone.
“Only, you said you were a college jock boyfriend, and Bruce here is a college emo boyfriend, though I think I might disagree on that, and I was just wondering what I am then.”
“W-ell,” Hal started as he finished the fry, “what do you think Bruce is instead?”
“Oh,” Clark thoughtfully looked at Bruce, who was back to typing and was definitely not going to be roped into the conversation. Then he looked back at Hal with a smile, “I’m not sure. But maybe not emo.”
Hal smirked a bit, and replied. “You mean he’s not moody, brooding, and dressed in black all the time?”
“I wouldn’t say moody.” Clark stated, hesitant. Hal’s smirk widened and rejoined, “Temperamental then.” Clark frowned slightly. He steals a glance at Bruce, who was still very much not going to be dragged into the discussion, even if it was about him. Hal decided to spare the man, and continued. “He can be your grunge rock boyfriend. Or Goth. Even punk, if you want.”
And why did Hal say your instead of a, Clark’s mind supplied treacherously yet again. He instead replied carefully, “I suppose any of those three can fit. Though I am partial to punk.”
“Cool. And as for you,” Hal said, then gestured towards Clark’s shirt, “Easy. Lumberjack boyfriend.”
“I’m… is that a category of boyfriend?” Clark asked, confused. “Just, lumberjack?”
Hal replied with a laugh. “You’ll be surprised what kinds of boyfriends there are according to the internet.” Clark looked to still be considering the answer, so Hal continued. “It’s more about what kind of look you have. You know, energy. Vibe. That kind of thing.”
“I have the vibe of a man who cuts and transports lumber for a living?”
“You don’t think you have a rugged, practical, outdoorsy vibe? Ok, something else then.” Hal said, clearly amused, then pretended to really think hard about what Clark’s vibe is. “Right, how about… ah. Small Town Ex who Big City Girl falls in love with again and moves back to her hometown for?”
“That’s… oddly specific.”
“It’s actually very generic. Ever seen a Christmas Hallmark movie?”
Clark turned the thought over in his mind. Then he said, “I suppose. But what would Small Town Ex have to offer enough to entice Big City Girl to leave everything behind?”
Hal’s eyes dart very quickly towards Bruce, who would very much rather not be in the booth right now. “I don’t know. Why would a rich, successful, Big City Girl fall in love with a charming, down to earth Small Town Ex?” He looked back at Clark. “Anyway, you think you can live with being charming and down to earth?”
“I guess I could.” Clark replied with a half smile.
“Great. And as for Bar,” Hal said, as he dropped his arm down to hold the man by the shoulder, “he’s…” but Barry cut in, with a resigned voice, “Nerd boyfriend. Yes, I know what I look like.”
Hal laughed, and replied, “hey, nerds can be hot.”
“Name one nerd that’s hot.” Barry rejoined, giving Hal an unimpressed look.
“Well, you, for one.” Hal quickly replied in the most matter of fact tone, as he tightened his hold on the shoulder. And what was that about, Barry thought. Instead he asked, “anyone else?”
Hal frowned a bit, trying to come up with any other name, and then half shrugged. “Just you, I guess.” Then let go of Barry as he asked, “We good here?” and didn’t really wait for a reply as he called the waitress over to their table.
*
“So,” Clark began, as he put away his belongings on his side of the room, “you and Hal are friendly.”
After dinner they drove to the nearby motel, the nicer one apparently, and got just two rooms. He hesitated, and saw that Barry hesitated as well, but before either of them could say anything, Bruce was already handing him the key to their room and Hal had slung an arm over Barry’s shoulder to walk them to theirs. It confused him a bit, and he felt a slight panic when he thought about the sleeping arrangement, but he was relieved to see the room had at least two beds. He can handle that, Clark thought, yes, definitely.
Presently, Bruce was laying out his tablet, phone, and various papers on his bed, ignoring Clark. It looked like the man wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, between the work before him and the ungodly amounts of coffee he had at the diner. Clark smiled, what else was Bruce if not always about the work? He resumed putting away his stuff, and started to unbutton his shirt to put it on a hanger.
“It was nice of you to do all those things for him when he was driving.”
“What things.” Bruce asked, distracted.
“Oh, you know. Handing him his drink, talking to him to keep him awake, navigating. All that.”
He turned around, finished with putting away clothes, and saw Bruce was watching him, face inscrutable, still wearing the fake eyeglasses. There was something in the atmosphere suddenly, and Bruce seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but he just cleared his throat, and whatever the moment was passed, as Bruce went back to reading. Clark decided to go about the business of getting ready for bed, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into some pajamas.
As he’s setting up his alarm on his phone, already sitting on his bed and covers over his legs, ready to go to sleep, he turned to look at Bruce who was, again, staring at him, with the same inscrutable look.
“Er, good night?” Clark ventured.
It broke the moment again, whatever it was, as Bruce went about putting away all the things on his bed and got up to go to the bathroom. It confused Clark, and when Bruce came out in sweats and an undershirt, he was moved to ask.
“I thought you were working?”
Bruce replied as he crossed the room to get to his own bed, reaching to turn off the lamp, “I didn’t want to keep you up.”
“Oh. It’s no bother, really. I can sleep with the lights on.”
The hand on the lamp pull switch stopped, and Bruce gazed at him with that same inscrutable look. Eventually he spoke, “it can wait.”
“Well, if you say so.” Clark conceded, and the light turned off, and they both settled in on their beds.
Left to his own thoughts, he went through the whole day, and the last three months, of observing Bruce. And then, because he is an honest man, what he felt about it. The gradual minute changes were refreshing, though why did it have to be because of and directed to someone else, he didn’t much like. Though, it’s not like he can monopolize the small acts of kindness Bruce was inclined to do for anyone else. And really, to say that is a disservice to the man- he knew Bruce to be kind. He just doesn’t look like it, or go out of the way to show it. But, underneath an icy and brusque exterior, it was there. And overall, Bruce was simply a good man. Why else would he put on a tight bat-themed costume every night to patrol the streets of a crime-ridden city?
His line of thought was derailed by the visual of the tightness of the batsuit, and then he tried to think of something else. His mind, ever treacherous, supplied instead the visual of that devastatingly handsome face, wearing fake glasses for Rao’s sake. Think of something else, anything else.
He remembered that low voice, in that tone, saying something out of fondness.
Clark closed his eyes and thinned his lips. He’ll probably be thinking of that for a while.
An hour passed, wherein he heard Bruce shift about in his bed, trying to catch sleep and miserably failing. It was too early for Batman after all. Clark thought about it, and decided. He asked, “couldn’t sleep?”
He got a mild sigh in response. Clark chuckled, sat up and opened the lamp. He looked over to see Bruce staring at him again, with that same inscrutable look. But, perhaps, not too inscrutable. At least for Clark. After all, how long has he been observing? Definitely more than just three months. He smiled.
“Come here then.” He said as he moved to the side and waited. Bruce looked at him, hesitant. Clark simply smiled again. And then, Bruce came over to his bed, and sat down on the edge. He reached over to his phone and looked for a boring enough podcast to put on to lull them to sleep. He settled on an episode of a guy just talking about the Roman Empire for three hours.
As he was scrolling, Bruce lied down, close enough for their sides to touch. He then turned and reached over to the bedside table by Bruce to deposit his phone, podcast already started, and he felt the man tense. He left his hand by his phone on the table, his arm over Bruce, though not touching, and looked down to see Bruce intensely staring at his face. He smiled softly, and the intense look in Bruce’s eyes lessened, replaced by a hint of vulnerability.
He leaned down, and as natural as it could be, they kissed.
Then they preoccupied themselves with something far more interesting than listening to a guy drone on about his opinions about the Roman Empire, and if the Second Triumvirate would have ever worked long term, and how it was a foregone conclusion that it would end with Octavian emerging as the sole ruler of Rome.
*
In the other room, Barry exited the bathroom to see Hal was still lying full flat on his back on his bed, eyes closed and hands folded on his midriff. He was inclined to let the man just go on and sleep, but decided to say, “hey, your turn.”
“Mm. Give me one more second, Bar.”
Barry chuckled, and put away his clothes. Then he walked over to Hal’s bed and sat down beside the man. At the shift of weight on the mattress, Hal opened his eyes and smiled at him. He smiled back.
“That was a long drive. You must be bone tired.”
“You’re telling me. And why am I the only one with a working driver’s license? Really. I would have thought the three of you were more responsible than me.” Barry laughed, then looked back at Hal just in time to see an affectionate look on the man’s face. Not knowing what to do with that, Barry instead asked, “you’re terribly friendly with Bruce.”
The look is replaced with mild interest. “I wouldn’t say terribly.”
“Really.” Barry replied, with a dubious look. “You were even flirting with him.”
Hal frowned a little, then asked in a gentle tone, “does it bother you?”
And did it bother him, Barry asked himself. He frowned, not liking this line of thinking. He made a show of weighing it on his mind, and then shrugged. “Just surprised, I guess. You never did that with Bruce.” Hal kept quiet, just gazing at him, his face a mix of serious and tender. Caught off guard, Barry continued, “well, you flirt with everyone anyway. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah.” Barry then asked in a quieter voice, “why do you?”
Hal gave him a wan smile. “Force of habit, I guess.”
“Ah. Well.” Barry said, more to say something. He looked away, not able to keep being gazed at with that face. Why even ask, he thought. A hand on his arm made him look back at Hal, still with that look on his face.
“And does that bother you?”
Barry worried at his lower lip unconsciously as he debated on what to answer. Did it bother him that Hal flirted with just about anyone. Yes. Of course it did. Does he have any say on it? Of course none. Can he do anything about it? He doesn’t know. Maybe? He decided to be honest, and answered. “Sometimes.”
Hal’s smile became pleased. “Then I’ll stop doing it.”
“Really.” Barry said, dubiousness back in his voice.
Hal’s smile turned cheeky. “Watch me.”
Then the hand on his arm is drawn back, soon, too soon, Barry thought. He watched Hal sit up and stretch and crack his neck. As Hal moved to get off the bed, he heard himself ask, “why?”
Hal turned towards him, and gave him what can only be called an old fashioned look. “Really? You can’t think of why I would do that for you?”
Barry felt his ears grow hot, and he knew, just knew, he was starting a blush. “Yes. Well, I mean. Maybe I. Uh.” He stammered, then saw Hal trying, but failing, to stop a grin from breaking out on his face. Barry huffed, and Hal just grinned.
Then Hal reached out and pulled him in and just kissed him.
When Hal pulled away, Barry looking a little dazed, he said in an airy tone, “I’m sure you can figure it out. You’re the smart one after all.” Then Hal stood up and went to the bathroom, leaving Barry sitting on the bed, finally figuring it out.
Later on, it turned out Hal wasn’t as tired from driving for hours after all, and Barry heard Hal speak in that voice, in that tone, repeatedly.
*
The next day the mission was dealt with quickly, and with terrifying precision and efficiency. So much so that the four men found themselves with nothing to do for the rest of the trip. Well, not quite nothing. They all had more interesting things to do aside from busting down a clandestine and illegal alien weapon technology smuggling operation.
On the third day, Hal was surprised to find a sleek, black luxury car parked beside the rental. The kind with a partition wall and a driver. He turned to glare at Bruce, who just looked back at him with an impassive face.
“You bastard. You absolute bastard. You just had to make me drive. We could have done this all this time.”
Bruce merely shrugged, and then left with an apologetic Clark in tow. He felt a nudge on his arm, and he turned to see Barry giving him an understanding smile. “Come on, I’ll ride shotgun.” Hal sighed, and then smiled back. “Well, it’s not like you have a choice.” He replied, mollified with the thought that at least it’s just him and Barry for the whole drive. Barry laughed, and said, “I can always sit in the back.”
Later, as they got on the highway, Barry asked an interesting question as he unwrapped a mint candy and deposited the content on Hal’s open palm. “I never got to ask, why were you so friendly with Bruce? At least for three months.”
“W-ell. Let’s just say he asked me to. For a thing he wanted to find out.” Hal answered vaguely before popping the candy in his mouth. Barry’s brow furrowed. “To find what out?”
Hal thought about it for a bit, and decided to hell with it, and just said, “if Clark will get jealous.”
“Oh.” Barry exclaimed, and then laughed. “I guess it worked?” Hal laughed as well. Then Barry asked again, “and what do you get in return for the favor?” Hal glanced to his side to shoot the man a quick skeptical look. “You really can’t think of why I’d do something like that?”
“So you can mess with Bruce?” Barry asked, genuinely clueless.
Hal paused, and then conceded, “alright. Maybe a little bit of that. But more so because I wanted to find something out for myself.”
“What?” Barry asked, still not getting it. It was endearing, really, how this sweetheart of a man couldn’t piece together something so obvious as Hal being painfully in love with him, Hal thought. He reached out and placed his hand on Barry’s thigh. “You’re the smart one. Figure it out.”
“Oh.” Barry said, finally figuring it out again. Then he recovered himself, and made a soft protest. “I wasn’t jealous.”
“Uh huh. Sure.”
“Well. Maybe a little.”
They laughed, and Barry found Hal’s hand and held it. Hal turned his palm up and interlaced their fingers together. A few minutes and Barry had another question. “So you’re really not going to flirt with anyone?”
“Sure. Wouldn’t be much of a problem anyway.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll just flirt with you all the time.”
Barry considered his future, and frowned. “I think I made a hasty decision.” And started to pull his hand away, but Hal held it fast, laughing all the while.
*
In a different car, Clark turned to ask Bruce a question as the man was busy looking at his tablet, working on something for WayneTech. “Should we have left them like that? Hal and Barry, I mean?”
“The rental’s in Hal’s name. He has to take it back himself.” Bruce said without looking up from reading a report.
Clark considered this, then sat back and nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. Though he did make a fair point- if this was an option from the start, why didn’t we just do this instead?”
“We won’t all fit in this car.” Bruce replied, as if no other option for a larger vehicle existed.
“O-kay. And having to drive to that warehouse? We couldn’t just have flown there?”
“I can’t.”
“Oh. Yes. I mean, well, the mission is a little superfluous, don’t you think? It didn’t need all four of us.”
“You invited yourself.”
“Hm. Yes, I did.” Clark watched Bruce from the corner of his eyes, as the man kept reading on his tablet, and then said, “I suppose you and Hal just happened to discuss the mission in front of me and Barry as well.”
Bruce didn’t reply, didn’t so much as turn his head to him to give him an impassive look. Clark smiled, and thought about how circuitous the man went about trying to express anything remotely hinting at feelings. Oh well, it might get troublesome, but he’s used to trouble.
Clark leaned close and kissed Bruce on the cheek. “I love you, you know that?”
That at least got a reaction, as Bruce turned sharply to look at him with slight surprise. Clark’s smile deepened. There, again, hesitation mixed with a hint of vulnerability. But it’s alright, Clark thought, he can wait. He moved back to his side, and settled in for a long ride.
Eventually, Bruce put away his tablet. Some minutes passed, and then Clark heard him say, “The Second Triumvirate could have worked.”
Clark’s brow furrowed slightly, and then he remembered. With an amused smile, he replied. “How so?”
“Well, Octavian was clearly the strongest leader out of the three, and had the claim of being Caesar’s successor to bolster his reputation. Though Mark Antony was the most charismatic and popular with the army. Lepidus was the weak link.”
“Well, then that means it couldn’t have worked. Lepidus would have always been ousted, and that leaves a power imbalance and an extremely tenuous alliance between the two remaining leaders.”
“If they chose someone other than Lepidus, perhaps Agrippa, then…”
And they continued discussing the Second Triumvirate, and then moved on to other topics just as enervating as the irrigation systems of ancient Babylon. Clark smiled again with the knowledge that the ride may be long, but will certainly be enjoyable and fulfilling.
***