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Dec. 17th, 2021 12:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
softpunksbarry allen/hal jordan // ~2k
> fill for dckinkmeme, Hal Jordan + costume malfunctions
“Gee, man,” Ollie begins with amusement, effortlessly firing arrows to stop the bots trying to attack them from getting any closer. Damn show-off. “I know you love Bats, but just because it’s his birthday doesn’t mean you have to show up in a birthday suit.”
“Shut up before I suckerpunch you,” Hal grumbles, because he hates Bruce, always will, and it doesn’t change the fact that he can’t think of anything worse than Bruce swinging in only to see that Hal’s in the middle of the battlefield, fucking naked. Hal cares less because it’s the day Bruce was born and more because this’ll be the day he dies if Bruce catches him like this. “And help me get out of here before I get hurt. Or worse–the press sees me! I can’t compromise my dignity like this!”
“Right, because your dick is more identifiable than your secret identity,” Ollie muses, but he does care about Hal’s current vulnerability at least marginally, because he fires more arrows to make up for Hal’s lack of ability to land any punches. Normally, Hal would be irritated by the fact that someone is covering for him, but he’s much more concerned about how he’s not covered at all.
“You should know it’s very important to the Flash,” Hal snipes, because he can’t help himself, even as he shuffles behind Ollie with his hands safely covering his crotch. Wherever they are, this isn’t some desolate street in Central City, and he doubts they’re anywhere near there, so there’s no way he’ll be able to access his Lantern to recharge his ring and return to the fight. More than that, there’s no way he can use it to construct his uniform or even make something that mimics clothes. He can’t fight, and he can’t even get away from the fight when Ollie’s his only shield right now. “I’m doing this out of consideration for him.”
Predictably, the mention of Barry gets a scoff. “Yeah, yeah,” Ollie says. “Don’t worry. Fight isn’t going to last long. Manhunter and Wonder Woman managed to get Savage to disable the bots, but he got away before they could subdue him.”
“Great.” Hal glances around them. Despite how the fight is over, none of the civilians have emerged from their hiding places to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. The debris and destroyed bots littering the streets isn’t as bad as it would’ve been years back, when they were a lot more reckless with their abilities and indifferent to collateral damage, but clean up will take some time, especially given that Barry isn’t on their team and Hal’s ring is out of commission. “Okay, now let’s get out of here. My fucking tits are freezing, and it’s supposed to be summer!”
“Climate change, man, what can I say,” Ollie says. “Think I saw a clothes store to the right. Pray that the window broke while we were fighting the bots and no poor clerk is hiding behind the desk so you can get decent.”
“And pay with what?” He resents the fact that there’s no nearby Zeta that can get him to the Watchtower, where Bruce prepares for all kinds of contingencies, including extra clothes. Hal had flown here, and Ollie arrived two minutes earlier since Diana dropped him off with her jet.
Ollie shrugs. “Just forward the shop name to Flash so he can cover the costs, seeing as you forgot your wallet on top of your underwear.”
Hal refrains from reminding Ollie—again—that he was in the shower when he got the call, so of course he had nothing on him. Mostly because before he can even open his mouth to defend himself, or shut up for once and take his friend’s advice, he feels a newfound presence looming over him. Not an enemy, but not necessarily friendly either.
“Jordan,” Bruce says, and somehow the way he says Hal’s name is worse than the time he used it as an insult.
Ollie smirks. Bruce’s expression is unreadable with the cowl on, and Hal realizes—there’s no such thing as dignity in the face of Batman anyway. “Uh, happy birthday?”
Hal swears Bruce doesn’t even blink, which is unfortunate, because as much as Hal resents this situation, he’d like to think he’s got assets that are at least worth looking over. Even Ollie had been checking him out. “Get on the plane. I’ll drop you off at Central, but I expect you at the Watchtower in half an hour,” is all Bruce says. “We’re going to have a talk there.”
At least Bruce doesn’t plan on wringing his neck on the ride back. Still, Hal doesn’t have to see the guy’s face to know he’s probably lamenting over the fact that he just can’t get one normal birthday.
Somehow, that makes Hal feel a bit better about his humiliating predicament. He bites back from making any comment about it though.
“The more I think about it, the more I realize that the conversation hurt Batsy more than it hurt me,” Hal considers aloud afterwards, back in his apartment with Barry, thankfully clothed. “I mean, I didn’t intend for that to happen on his birthday, and there’s no way I did that for him, but given that it led to that kind of reaction, a part of me can accept that it was worth it.”
“Is that so,” Barry deadpans. “That makes one of us then.”
His tone has been flat all evening. Hal stops stirring the bowl of pancake batter. He’d been planning for it to be their dinner, but as much as Bruce hates attention when it isn’t about the mission and really just wanted his birthday to be as decent as possible (i.e. no complications on the mission, if there would be one one, no Ollie asking unnecessary questions, no Arthur trying to shift all battlegrounds to the sea no matter how unrealistic, no Hal being obnoxious), Clark had coerced everyone into staying in the Watchtower later than normal so they could throw Bruce a surprise dinner. Hal and Barry hadn’t really talked much during the entire event, though Hal assumed it was because Barry was too busy stuffing his face with food. “Are you… mad at me?”
“No,” Barry answers, like the worst liar in the world.
“Aw, c’mon!” Hal whines. “This isn’t even the first time I put on the ring without wearing anything. Uniform automatically comes with the power! Sometimes, it just happens, and clothes kind of become a second thought in the midst of emergency situations, you know?”
“No, I don’t know,” Barry replies, covering his face with his hands. Hal thinks that’s a little much.
“Hey, it’s not like you were the one who got naked in public. I have more right to be embarrassed by you, but I’m over that already, so you should be too.” Barry doesn’t react though. Hal pauses, suddenly feeling a lot more awkward when a theory comes to mind. That doesn’t stop him from taking a step towards Barry, resting a hand on his shoulder. His voice comes out softer. “Even without the most powerful weapon in the universe, I can still throw a mean left hook. I know how to protect myself, Bar. Ollie was just… conveniently there, and he owed me anyway. It’s sweet that you worried about me, but also—uh, not really our M.O. here, so it’s also kind of weird. And unnecessary.”
“Hal, it’s not because I was worried about you,” Barry bursts out, finally lifting his head and looking indignant. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are blazing, and his tone clearly means he is not happy. It’s kind of hot, just as much as it’s also a bit ridiculous. “And that’s precisely why—you were the one who got naked. Anyone could’ve seen you!”
Something clicks, because there’s no way this is still secondhand embarrassment, even if it wouldn’t have been the first time. “Are you jealous?” Hal asks, incredulous. “The only people who saw me were Ollie and Bruce, and trust me, he did not like a second of it.” Barry rolls his eyes, but Hal is grinning, because he’s nailed the mark, and it’s pretty much the last thing he expected, but he’s Hal Jordan—he’s great at going with the flow. He wraps an arm around Barry, snuggling him close to his chest. “Don’t worry, babe. Even if total strangers did see me, they’d have to realize this sexy package—” He gestures towards himself. “—is the property of one Barry Allen. 24/7, no matter the occasion.”
Barry sighs. “I hate it when you say things like that. It’s disgusting,” he grumbles, but he buries his face into Hal’s chest, wraps his arms around his waist, and quietly says, “You’re mine.”
“Absolutely,” Hal says, amused.
“Please avoid situations where you’d end up naked in the worst case scenario unless it’s for me or for medical. I’m telling you it’s not a nice time for anyone.”
“Of course.” After a pause, Hal adds, “But I would still like to argue that in Bruce’s case, at least for me—”
“Nope.”
“Fair,” Hal agrees. “Birthday suit only for Barry’s birthday, got it.”
> fill for dckinkmeme, Hal Jordan + costume malfunctions
“Gee, man,” Ollie begins with amusement, effortlessly firing arrows to stop the bots trying to attack them from getting any closer. Damn show-off. “I know you love Bats, but just because it’s his birthday doesn’t mean you have to show up in a birthday suit.”
“Shut up before I suckerpunch you,” Hal grumbles, because he hates Bruce, always will, and it doesn’t change the fact that he can’t think of anything worse than Bruce swinging in only to see that Hal’s in the middle of the battlefield, fucking naked. Hal cares less because it’s the day Bruce was born and more because this’ll be the day he dies if Bruce catches him like this. “And help me get out of here before I get hurt. Or worse–the press sees me! I can’t compromise my dignity like this!”
“Right, because your dick is more identifiable than your secret identity,” Ollie muses, but he does care about Hal’s current vulnerability at least marginally, because he fires more arrows to make up for Hal’s lack of ability to land any punches. Normally, Hal would be irritated by the fact that someone is covering for him, but he’s much more concerned about how he’s not covered at all.
“You should know it’s very important to the Flash,” Hal snipes, because he can’t help himself, even as he shuffles behind Ollie with his hands safely covering his crotch. Wherever they are, this isn’t some desolate street in Central City, and he doubts they’re anywhere near there, so there’s no way he’ll be able to access his Lantern to recharge his ring and return to the fight. More than that, there’s no way he can use it to construct his uniform or even make something that mimics clothes. He can’t fight, and he can’t even get away from the fight when Ollie’s his only shield right now. “I’m doing this out of consideration for him.”
Predictably, the mention of Barry gets a scoff. “Yeah, yeah,” Ollie says. “Don’t worry. Fight isn’t going to last long. Manhunter and Wonder Woman managed to get Savage to disable the bots, but he got away before they could subdue him.”
“Great.” Hal glances around them. Despite how the fight is over, none of the civilians have emerged from their hiding places to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. The debris and destroyed bots littering the streets isn’t as bad as it would’ve been years back, when they were a lot more reckless with their abilities and indifferent to collateral damage, but clean up will take some time, especially given that Barry isn’t on their team and Hal’s ring is out of commission. “Okay, now let’s get out of here. My fucking tits are freezing, and it’s supposed to be summer!”
“Climate change, man, what can I say,” Ollie says. “Think I saw a clothes store to the right. Pray that the window broke while we were fighting the bots and no poor clerk is hiding behind the desk so you can get decent.”
“And pay with what?” He resents the fact that there’s no nearby Zeta that can get him to the Watchtower, where Bruce prepares for all kinds of contingencies, including extra clothes. Hal had flown here, and Ollie arrived two minutes earlier since Diana dropped him off with her jet.
Ollie shrugs. “Just forward the shop name to Flash so he can cover the costs, seeing as you forgot your wallet on top of your underwear.”
Hal refrains from reminding Ollie—again—that he was in the shower when he got the call, so of course he had nothing on him. Mostly because before he can even open his mouth to defend himself, or shut up for once and take his friend’s advice, he feels a newfound presence looming over him. Not an enemy, but not necessarily friendly either.
“Jordan,” Bruce says, and somehow the way he says Hal’s name is worse than the time he used it as an insult.
Ollie smirks. Bruce’s expression is unreadable with the cowl on, and Hal realizes—there’s no such thing as dignity in the face of Batman anyway. “Uh, happy birthday?”
Hal swears Bruce doesn’t even blink, which is unfortunate, because as much as Hal resents this situation, he’d like to think he’s got assets that are at least worth looking over. Even Ollie had been checking him out. “Get on the plane. I’ll drop you off at Central, but I expect you at the Watchtower in half an hour,” is all Bruce says. “We’re going to have a talk there.”
At least Bruce doesn’t plan on wringing his neck on the ride back. Still, Hal doesn’t have to see the guy’s face to know he’s probably lamenting over the fact that he just can’t get one normal birthday.
Somehow, that makes Hal feel a bit better about his humiliating predicament. He bites back from making any comment about it though.
==
“The more I think about it, the more I realize that the conversation hurt Batsy more than it hurt me,” Hal considers aloud afterwards, back in his apartment with Barry, thankfully clothed. “I mean, I didn’t intend for that to happen on his birthday, and there’s no way I did that for him, but given that it led to that kind of reaction, a part of me can accept that it was worth it.”
“Is that so,” Barry deadpans. “That makes one of us then.”
His tone has been flat all evening. Hal stops stirring the bowl of pancake batter. He’d been planning for it to be their dinner, but as much as Bruce hates attention when it isn’t about the mission and really just wanted his birthday to be as decent as possible (i.e. no complications on the mission, if there would be one one, no Ollie asking unnecessary questions, no Arthur trying to shift all battlegrounds to the sea no matter how unrealistic, no Hal being obnoxious), Clark had coerced everyone into staying in the Watchtower later than normal so they could throw Bruce a surprise dinner. Hal and Barry hadn’t really talked much during the entire event, though Hal assumed it was because Barry was too busy stuffing his face with food. “Are you… mad at me?”
“No,” Barry answers, like the worst liar in the world.
“Aw, c’mon!” Hal whines. “This isn’t even the first time I put on the ring without wearing anything. Uniform automatically comes with the power! Sometimes, it just happens, and clothes kind of become a second thought in the midst of emergency situations, you know?”
“No, I don’t know,” Barry replies, covering his face with his hands. Hal thinks that’s a little much.
“Hey, it’s not like you were the one who got naked in public. I have more right to be embarrassed by you, but I’m over that already, so you should be too.” Barry doesn’t react though. Hal pauses, suddenly feeling a lot more awkward when a theory comes to mind. That doesn’t stop him from taking a step towards Barry, resting a hand on his shoulder. His voice comes out softer. “Even without the most powerful weapon in the universe, I can still throw a mean left hook. I know how to protect myself, Bar. Ollie was just… conveniently there, and he owed me anyway. It’s sweet that you worried about me, but also—uh, not really our M.O. here, so it’s also kind of weird. And unnecessary.”
“Hal, it’s not because I was worried about you,” Barry bursts out, finally lifting his head and looking indignant. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are blazing, and his tone clearly means he is not happy. It’s kind of hot, just as much as it’s also a bit ridiculous. “And that’s precisely why—you were the one who got naked. Anyone could’ve seen you!”
Something clicks, because there’s no way this is still secondhand embarrassment, even if it wouldn’t have been the first time. “Are you jealous?” Hal asks, incredulous. “The only people who saw me were Ollie and Bruce, and trust me, he did not like a second of it.” Barry rolls his eyes, but Hal is grinning, because he’s nailed the mark, and it’s pretty much the last thing he expected, but he’s Hal Jordan—he’s great at going with the flow. He wraps an arm around Barry, snuggling him close to his chest. “Don’t worry, babe. Even if total strangers did see me, they’d have to realize this sexy package—” He gestures towards himself. “—is the property of one Barry Allen. 24/7, no matter the occasion.”
Barry sighs. “I hate it when you say things like that. It’s disgusting,” he grumbles, but he buries his face into Hal’s chest, wraps his arms around his waist, and quietly says, “You’re mine.”
“Absolutely,” Hal says, amused.
“Please avoid situations where you’d end up naked in the worst case scenario unless it’s for me or for medical. I’m telling you it’s not a nice time for anyone.”
“Of course.” After a pause, Hal adds, “But I would still like to argue that in Bruce’s case, at least for me—”
“Nope.”
“Fair,” Hal agrees. “Birthday suit only for Barry’s birthday, got it.”