Chapter Text
Warm lights, ornate architecture, mosaic flooring. The wood was this mahogany dark brown that had intricate etching. Despite the elegant construction, it was aged.
This place was a movie set.
Hal walked up to the center counter, struggling to keep his focus on his destination and not the overwhelming amount of details. Gotham was old, he knew that, but this was something else. The place needed a lot of upkeep to make it look glamorous yet, clearly, it didn't have the resources to. It was almost haunted. Smelled kind of like a museum.
There was a woman at the desk and she didn’t look over when he approached.
“How can I help you?” She asked flatly.
“Hi.” He tapped at the countertop, “I was wondering if I could use your computers?”
She finally looked at him but the stare was stern enough to force Hal to clench his teeth to keep back an info dump of the situation. She didn’t need to know he wasn’t from the area unless she asked and she didn’t need to know what he wanted to use the computers for.
“Just to check some emails. I’m on a business trip.”
Damn it…
“Business trip? Where are you from?” She narrowed her eyes.
“California. I, uh,” He searched his pockets for his wallet and tugged out a card. “I have my library card from my area. I don’t know if that works, but…”
The woman looked irritated, “Does this look like a California library to you?”
“…Please?” He gave an award-winning smile.
There was hesitation before she sighed in defeat. “The computers are in the back on the right next to the nonfiction.”
Hal sighed in relief, “Thank you so much. I’ll only be a moment.”
She didn’t reply and he took that as the cue to run off before she could change her mind.
The library wasn’t as difficult to navigate as he expected it’d be. It was properly labeled and the computers were advertised as something new and impressive. A plaque even read:
‘
Donated by the Wayne Foundation. Thank you.’
Hal quickly disregarded that and got the computer up and running. It chugged but got the job done. Spam mail, spam mail, spam mail, an e-card from his mom, spam mail. He tapped his chin as he clicked through and checked his spam folder, a place where the important documents decide to go.
He chewed on his lip in annoyance when it was just more spam. His brother promised he would forward the medical records over, but when was he ever reliable when it came to their mother?
He sighed, logged out, and turned off the computer. The rest of the day was empty.
Libraries weren’t usually his cup of tea. They were extremely useful resources but Hal couldn’t find himself much of a reader. He had a habit of finding a bunch of things he wanted to read but it’d ultimately get shelved once he would get five words in and lose focus. Instead of having a relaxing time with a book, it would become a chore to keep his thoughts from wandering. He appreciated the little cassette tapes that held stories although to most people it didn't count as 'reading.' But, damn it, he had good memories of playing guitar while listening to the Lord of the Rings. He’s still bummed he never got the last two cassettes that ended the story…
Hal tugged at a random book in the maze of literature and flipped through it. Something about a random politician's life and why they needed to share their opinions. He didn’t even recognize the name but their face was plastered across it with an uncanny smile. Bored again, Hal stuffed it back where he found it.
Or, he tried to. It got stuck and he wiggled it to try and fit it back into where it belonged but the other books were just rejecting it. He didn’t blame them but he’d feel like an asshole if he left this issue for someone else.
Perseverance drove him as he continued to fuss and, you know, he never really had the best luck. It started to tip the large bookcase and for a second Hal accepted that this was how he would die. Crushed by books in Gotham. You could practically taste the irony on your tongue.
A hand reached out at the right moment, grabbed hold of the bookcase, and stabilized it before it could lead to his demise and Hal startled.
“Woah—“
“I’ve got it.”
And the man who saved him from being annihilated, physically and socially, was an absolute supermodel. Just looking at him could take your breath away. His features were sharp, his cheekbones were high, and his eyelashes were long and elegant. His hair too... wow, it accented his face perfectly. He couldn't be much older than himself either, early twenties for sure. Yet, out of everything, his eyes dragged down to focus on what the stranger had tucked under his arm.
“Is that The Encyclopedia of Fighter Aircraft?”
The man’s expression was completely blank, caught off guard.
“Hm?” He pulled the book from under his arm to look at it. “Yes, why?”
Hal shook his head a few times, passion suddenly burning in him. “That book barely scratches the surface on fighter jets. It’s like if you wanted to know about cats and it just told you that they exist .”
“Okay…” The stranger raised an eyebrow. “Then what do you suggest?”
“Well, what are you looking for?”
“Erm, well, I have archives of blueprints at home and so I was hoping to study—“
The perfect book popped into his head.
“
Aircraft Anatomy.”
He blurted. “That one is way more interesting. It actually breaks down— Augh, let me just show you. Where did you find that?”
The stranger had stopped being shocked and instead had warmth, his lips tipped up in amusement. That was a good sign. It meant he could actually win him over here.
“It was right over here.” And he brought Hal over to a section.
It was a gold mine.
Hal’s eyes lit up as he looked over the books. He read most of these when he was a kid. The one he was looking for was a little hidden at the very end and he shimmied it out and handed it to the man.
“Here.” He found himself grinning with accomplishment as the stranger accepted it with curiosity.
“Ah, I know what you mean.” He flipped it over to read the back. “I was planning on renting these all out, but they only have a six-book maximum. This will be useful.”
“You like planes?” Hal asked, struggling to swallow his delight.
The stranger shrugged, “I love most machinery. Cars, motorcycles, and the like. I haven’t had a chance to do a proper deep dive on jets. I mean, I know the basics. They just introduced that new F/A F-18 Super Hornet—“
Just the name got Hal to grunt in displeasure.
The stranger smiled, “What? Don’t like it?”
“Way too clunky. I understand why, but the F-18 is so much smoother. The F/A F-18 is only useful for long-range missions. More fuel and an easier time for the navy, but still, fuck the navy.”
“Really, anything won’t ever be as good as—“
“—The F-14 Tomcat.” Hal grinned as he finished the sentence.
“Yes!” He laughed. It was extremely warm and shook his shoulders.
Wow, this man was drop-dead gorgeous
and
interested in jets? Hal wanted to get on one knee.
“You know a lot. Hobby or profession?”
“Well, it was a hobby that turned into a profession. My dad was a test pilot so thanks to him I grew up loving planes. Naturally, I followed his footsteps.”
“A test pilot. That must be a fun job.”
“Getting paid to fly planes all day? Hell yes.” He grinned.
“Thanks for this.” The stranger raised the book.
“It’s the least I could do for how you saved my life back there.”
“Just in the right place at the right time.” He smiled. “Well, I should go.”
“Wait.” Hal found his mouth speaking for himself. His brain was not giving any input here. “Do you come here a lot?”
The pretty man paused before giving the slightest smile.
“Do you want me to?”
Huh…? It was Hal’s turn to get stunned.
“No—Er. I just— I'm in the area for a few weeks. If you need some more advice on your research…”
The stranger didn’t meet him with scrutiny or disdain, instead, his expression kept even. Slightly amused, mostly charmed.
“I could come here a lot for the next few weeks.” There was a beat then the man offered his hand. “Bruce Wayne.”
“Hal Jordan.” And he shook it twice.
“It was nice meeting you, Hal. I suppose I’ll see you around, then.”
“Yeah! Yeah…” He bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep himself from saying anything else. He was usually pretty bad about that. Thankfully, this Bruce took pity on him and made his exit before there could be a chance to make an ass out of himself.
As Hal stood there dumbly, he processed what just happened.
He might have just met the man of his dreams.
“Hey, handsome… If you ever want a one-on-one demonstration, I've got a few ideas to make your dreams come true.” Hal purred in the most alluring voice he could muster. His weight was held on one foot and he tousled his hair.
Then he grimaced with a laugh. “No… that’s so
cheesy.
Even for me.
”
He gripped the bathroom sink of his little hotel room. The mirror reflected his pathetic face and humiliation.
“Christ, I think I’m going to have to try the ‘Just be yourself’ thing…”
Ever since he met Bruce, he’s been slowly going insane thinking about seeing him again. His stomach would knot up and he would get antsy. Words felt difficult. Was this the love at first sight? He thought that was a hoax. Even with Carol, when he first met her he found her attractive and they had an infinite amount of things to talk about.
So, why was this different? She hadn't consumed his mind like this. With Bruce, it had been such a small conversation.
He wasn’t going to be in the area long, only for a few weeks, so it’d be
stupid
for him to get attached. He was just so
pretty.
His body was rocking too. He did not miss how that fabric fitted him… Hal had to physically shake his head to knock the thoughts away. He had work. This was one step at a time.
With one more fix of his hair, he sighed and abandoned the sink to go get his day over with. The faster it was done, the sooner he could see Bruce.
The waiting part was excruciating. He had slipped right by the librarian and into the nonfiction section in hopes he would see the large figure standing there in front of the aeronautics. When it was empty, Hal’s gut filled with nervous dread.
He was here at the same time as yesterday. They never said when they’d meet up or if they even
would.
It was high hopes and high hopes alone. If he loitered he’d look desperate so he could only swallow his rejection and start sorting through the books they had.
As Hal brushed his fingertips over the cover of the history of dogfights, he remembered his mother yelling at his father when he opened the book for Hanukkah. It
‘Filled his head with dangerous, stupid dreams,'
she said. It became one of his prized possessions. He would study the diagrams over and over again.
Some here he remembered reading at his own public library when he was in high school. He had pushed it as his reading book and got scolded since it was
‘nothing but a bunch of pictures.
’ He couldn't make anyone happy.
“Is that a good one?” A voice asked behind him and scared Hal out of his wits.
“-Huh?” He stood up instantly and nearly dropped the book. He was met with the man from yesterday — Bruce Wayne — looking even nicer than before.
“Oh.” He looked at the book in his hands and nodded, struggling to make himself not look like a dumbass. “Yes! Yes, it’s an old favorite of mine.”
“Mind if I see?” His eyes flicked from him to the book.
Hal offered it quickly.
“This is more about historical classics. It’s an interesting read.”
Bruce looked at it and then back to Hal with a smile. “You’re a bookworm, hm?”
“Yup!” Wait, what did he say? “Oh— Uh, no. Sorry— I…” He gestured at the section, “I only kind of care about this stuff…” And now that made him look lame. God, what was he trying to prove to Bruce here? That his entire personality was built around planes? That he ate planes for breakfast? He should’ve just lied.
Bruce didn’t seem to judge him.
“That’s useful. To have a niche like that.” He stepped forward and looked through the other books. “I read the book you suggested, by the way. You were right, it was extremely thorough and helpful.”
“You read it already?” He was taken aback. That thing was a full book.
“Mhm. When I get focused I can’t put things down.” He glanced at Hal with a cute smile. “It’s a problem I have.”
“Sounds useful…” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I have the complete opposite problem. Err, mostly.”
“You said you were willing to help me with my research, right?”
Hal nodded. “Anything.”
He hadn’t noticed but Bruce was holding a small folder. He set the book down and cracked it open.
“I have some blueprints that I’m studying right now. There are some things about it that I just don’t understand. I do have resources that I could use, but you had offered…”
“I’d love to take a look with you.”
He couldn’t think of anything better.
Okay, maybe a couple of things.
Hal was floundering here.
Sitting at a table in the back of the library, they sat side by side and dissected the blueprints. The handwriting was rough and the schematics were confusing. Nothing like he’s ever seen.
Hal rubbed his brow. He couldn’t fuck this up. He
had
to look like he knew what he was talking about.
“Where'd you find this?”
“In my parent’s personal library.” He answered simply and unfolded another schematic. They were puzzle pieces that definitely made sense to someone.
Well, right now they made sense to Hal, of course. He was the expert.
Even in the airforce he never built or designed planes. He just liked them and loved to fly.
But if he told Bruce that, he might leave. And right now he was close enough to him that their thighs were almost touching and he could really take small glances at how well taken care of he was and how perfectly shaped every feature on his face was. And he was definitely hiding bulk underneath that dress jacket…
Snap out of it.
“I see.” He tapped his chin. “Well… it looks English.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The body shape.” He traced the blueprint with his finger, “It reminds me of the fighters from the Battle of Britain.”
“Hm.” And Bruce narrowed his eyes and nodded.
Wow, okay. Hal was doing pretty alright so far. He was feeling way more confident already.
“It’d do pretty terrible in combat too.”
Bruce looked at him with curiosity. Those clear eyes were hypnotizing. It actually stopped Hal’s heart then restarted it.
Hal had to swallow to collect himself, “Er, the wings.” He pointed to try and keep himself focused. “The shape is good for long distances but not for any maneuvers needed for dogfights. It won't be able to catch enough speed with that drag.”
“But there’s the space for a Gatling gun…” Bruce noted.
Hal looked at the blueprint again. “Huh… Odd.” He touched his chin. “This could just be unused schematics. Maybe someone just designing for fun.”
“That’s a fair deduction.” He agreed.
Bruce and Hal ended up chatting for thirty full minutes about it before Bruce was the one who stopped the conversation.
“Hey, we’ve been at this for a while. I think I need a small break.”
Thank god, Hal was losing his ability to bullshit further.
He was resorting to just straight-up info-dumping to avoid discussing precisely what the stuff means. Even Bruce’s questions had him struggling.
However, a break also was the opportunity for Bruce to leave. That was upsetting. He couldn’t really figure out another reason to see him again except this. He would bullshit for another eight hours if it meant keeping Bruce by him.
“Would you like to go get coffee with me?” Bruce asked.
Hal swore he misheard him. His brain shut off for a few seconds.
“If you’re busy, I understand.” He started collecting the blueprints.
“No! No, I—“ He took in a breath, “That'd be fucking awesome.” He started to help collect the blueprints too. Bruce seemed to have a system, Hal just piled them in a semi-reasonable pile.
“Great.” And the smile he gave him removed years of his life. Gentle, pleased, only big enough to show a flash of teeth. Bruce’s smiles seemed like secrets.
Maybe it was his relaxed, withdrawn way of holding himself. Each time he smiled it was like he
earned
them. The smile economy was always a mess, Hal’s was worth pennies. Bruce’s were worth gold.
The next worst thing about Bruce Wayne was his inability to stop Hal from talking. They chatted all the way from the library to the coffee shop, then at the coffee shop, they found themselves talking for
hours.
It was as if everything he said would string from nonsense to something they both could find interest in. He didn’t get him pigeonholed as
the guy who really likes planes.
They talked about adventures as teenagers, special interests, the frustrations of life, and the good parts about it. They both disliked politics, they both struggled with mundanity, and both shared their enjoyment of adrenaline rushes.
Bruce had just come back from
Asia
to train abroad to find something new. That was
crazy
.
Another thing Hal really liked about Bruce was that Hal was able to get him to laugh in this hearty way that seemed to surprise even the man himself. It was addicting.
“It’s a bit of a shame I’m only here for a couple weeks.” He said with only a fraction of the disappointment he really held.
Bruce still had a few chuckles left from their last topic. He shook his head, “I assure you, you’re lucky it’s only a couple weeks.”
“Oh, because of the crime rate? I’m not that no-cal. Central is in the name. I can take this.” And he took a drink of his coffee. It was cold now. He had only been drinking it whenever he remembered it existed.
“Be careful. Only fools have that confidence around here. And foreigners.”
“Well, fitting since I am both of those things.”
Bruce’s smile was in his eyes, “I don’t know about that.”
The compliment startled him. It would’ve probably been funny if it came from anyone else.
“Er.. Clearly, you don’t know me that well yet.”
“Then mind if I do?”
The words had Hal leaving his own body. His cheeks burned.
“Hm? I was…—”
Bruce took out a pen from his jacket and reached out for Hal’s cup. Hal offered it over.
Bruce wrote something on it and then gave the cup right back.
Hal studied the cup strangely. Ten digits were sprawled out neatly. A code?
“My number.” He answered the riddle for him. “If you’d like to see each other again.”
“I…” Hal set the cup down, too flustered to even think right. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
This Bruce was extremely dangerous for him.