Chapter Text
The very first thing Bruce knows when he slightly cracks his eyes open in the morning is that fuck, his head hurt so much. It hurts bad enough that he can’t stop himself from letting out a small, pathetic whimper when he feels another wave of stabbing pain in his skull and the bright morning light that’s slipping his room through the curtains isn’t really helping.
He slowly moves to drape his arm over his eyes and maybe even manage to get used to the pain when suddenly he bumps his elbow against something – someone– in his bed and he’s immediately sitting up, ignoring how the movement makes him feel like someone just cracked his skull open because why the hell is there another person in his bed? Or who is in his bed because Bruce is sure as hell it’s none of his kids, they’re big enough that they don’t crawl in his bed in the middle of the night after being woken up by nightmares anymore (he tries not to think too much about it because it always makes his heart ache in his chest).
Bruce takes a good look at the other person’s face and, with a small yelp breaking out of his throat, almost falls out of the bed because what on earth is Hal Jordan doing in Bruce’s bed?!
“Bruce?” Hal whispers with a hoarse voice and slowly opens his eyes, glancing up at him with a small smile on his face as he snuggles closer, until his head is resting on Bruce’s pillow instead of his own and he lets his eyes flutter shut again. “Just five more minutes, alright?”
“What the–” Bruce exclaims under his breath and looks around his room in the manor before returning his gaze on the man. “Jordan, what the hell is going on? What are you doing here?”
In response, Hal lets out a low grumble and drapes his arm across Bruce’s lap, pressing his face against his side. Bruce freezes like someone has dumped ice water all over him before he places his hand on Hal’s shoulder and shakes him, loudly hissing out, “Wake the fuck up, Hal. What’s going on?!”
“Fine, Jesus Christ, I’m up, I’m up.” Hal mutters, annoyance clear in his voice, and pushes himself up on the bed as well, yawning and stretching before he finally decides to look at Bruce. That soft smile on his face and that weirdly loving gaze in his eyes are almost enough for Bruce to scramble out of the bed and run out of his own room because, for the thousandth time this morning, what the actual fuck is going on? “Good morning to you too, baby. May I ask why you almost dislocated my shoulder at–” He looks over at the bedside table. “eight in the morning?”
Has Bruce started hallucinating or did Hal just call Bruce baby?!
“What is happening? What are you doing here?” Bruce asks, not specifying that in here he means not only the manor, but Bruce’s room as well and mainly his bed.
“What do you mean what I’m doing here?” Hal questions back and that teasing spark in his eyes disappears, replaced by nothing but concern. He shuffles even closer to Bruce and gently cups his face with his hands, looking into Bruce’s eyes like he’s trying to figure something out before letting out a defeated sigh. “I knew it was a bad idea to come back home today after that mission from hell. But of course you had to be so stubborn and it’s not like we could tie you to the bed in Watchtower’s medbay, you’d somehow find a way to free yourself in a few minutes.”
“What are you talking about? What– what miss–” Before Bruce can finish asking the question, another wave of indescribable pain hits him again and he lets out a choked gasp and frees himself from Hal’s hold, just so he can press his hands against his temples. “Fuck, my head hurts.”
“Yeah, I’m not surprised. You took quite a hit yesterday.” Hal breathes out and reaches towards the bedside table to grab a bottle of water and a painkiller, helping Bruce take it before settling back on the bed, sitting up against the headboard. “Hey, c’mon, come here.”
Hal holds his hand out for Bruce to take, the latter’s gaze dropping on the ring on his finger but it’s not his Lantern ring. It’s a wedding ring on his ring finger, the silver band glimmering slightly under the sunlight. Reflexively, Bruce looks down at his own hand and sees that he has a matching ring on his finger as well but for whatever reason it doesn’t surprise him as waking up and finding Hal next to him in his bed did. Almost like it’s not that shocking anymore, almost like it actually makes sense.
Without thinking much about it anymore, Bruce takes Hal’s hand and lets himself be tugged forward gently until he’s wrapped in Hal’s arms, his head resting against the man’s chest and Hal starts softly running his fingers through his hair. Bruce hums in content and lets his eyes flutter shut, his brain-splitting headache disappearing before he can even realise it.
They stay in silence for a few minutes, or maybe even a few hours, Bruce doesn’t really know and he doesn’t really care either. He just knows that he’s with his husband, he’s in the arms of the man he’s in love with and that’s all that matters.
“I’m sorry… about earlier.” Bruce finds himself breaking the comfortable silence, his gaze glued on the hem of Hal’s shirt that he’s playing with. “I– I got weirdly confused, for whatever reason.”
“Why?” Hal questions and Bruce doesn’t need to look to know that he has that shit-eating grin on his face that Bruce loves with his whole heart. “Were you expecting another man in your bed?”
“Shut up.” Bruce huffs out and twists in Hal’s arms, sitting up slightly just so he can look him in the eyes before dropping his gaze on his lips.
However, right when he’s about to lean forward and kiss his husband, a loud shrieking echoes in the manor, followed by the sound of a door being slammed and then someone running down the hallway with full speed. Before either Bruce or Hal have time to react, the door of their bedroom swings open and Damian runs inside, jumping onto bed and crawling under the covers with them like someone is out for his blood.
“Tim is going to kill me.” Damian says and squeezes himself between them, draping a comforter over his head. “Please don’t let him kill me.”
Bruce looks over at Hal, gaping at him like a fish. “What–”
“Damian!” Tim yells in the hallway and now it’s his turn to swing their door open, drenched in water from head to toe when he storms inside the room and looks around. “Where is he? I’m going to kill him.”
“Tim, you’re not going to kill your brother.” Hal chuckles and completely ignores the glare Tim sends in his way, all while Bruce tries to figure out why he feels so weird about Damian running in his fathers’ bedroom and hiding from his older brother in their bed instead of fighting back, as if he wasn’t raised by the… raised by who?
“Oh, I am going to.” Tim lets the words out between his teeth. “He dumped a bucket of ice water all over me while I was sleeping! Again!”
“Damian.” Bruce sighs and tugs the comforter off Damian’s head, watching as the boy tucks himself against Hal’s side like the man is his only hope. “We’ve talked about this.” The words leave Bruce’s mouth before he can even process them and they immediately surprise him because when did he scold Damian about waking up his brother by dumping water on him?
No one in the room says anything for a few moments and then Hal softly nudges Damian and nods towards Tim who’s standing by the bed with his arms crossed in front of his chest, water still dripping off of him. In the end, Damian admits his defeat and quietly grumbles out, “Fine, I’m sorry.”
“And?” Hal says, dragging out the syllable.
Damian pouts but still adds, “And I will help you with cleaning up your room.”
“See, was that so hard?” Hal says with a smile on his face and presses a small kiss on the top of Damian’s head before nodding towards Tim again. “Now, go and help Tim before Alfred sees the mess in his room. You know B and I won’t be able to help you two if that happens.”
Damian grumbles out something under his breath but still crawls out of the bed, immediately heading towards the door. But he still doesn’t manage to avoid a small smack in the back of his head from his brother.
Bruce hums as the boys leave the room. “Maybe one day he will stop tormenting him.”
“Maybe.” Hal replies with a chuckle and leans forward to leave a small kiss on the corner of Bruce’s mouth before getting up from the bed, heading towards the bathroom.
Bruce stays right where he is, leaning against the headboard of their bed, watching the man and playing with the ring on his finger as he pushes down whatever weird feeling is trying to surface within him.
– ☆ –
“I don’t know, Hal.” Bruce says quietly enough so that he doesn’t disturb three of his kids watching the TV as he settles comfortably on the couch with Hal, his back pressed against the man’s chest, their fingers intertwined. “Do you think it was the right call?”
Hal gives him an answer without missing a beat. “Yes.”
“But what if–”
“Bruce, they’re the Justice League, I think they’ll somehow manage to survive a day without Batman and Green Lantern.” Hal chuckles against his throat and tightens his arms around Bruce’s body for a moment. “Now can we please pay attention to the movie before Tim kicks both of us out for talking?”
“Don’t think I won’t do it.” Tim grins at him proudly and hands over his bowl of popcorn to Damian, as if a few hours ago he wasn’t threatening to kill him. From the floor, Duke holds his hand out and without saying a word, Tim shoves a new bag of chips in his hand.
Before either Bruce or Hal can say anything in response, a familiar voice from the entrance of the living room asks, “Won’t do what, Tim?”
“Jay!” Tim exclaims loudly and almost pushes Damian off the other side of the couch as he jumps up on his feet, leaping over the furniture to tackle Jason in a hug. “I’ve missed you!” He doesn’t let go of Jason even when the boy walks further into the room, Dick and Cass following him.
“Missed you too, Timmy.” Jason says with a soft smile on his face and ruffles his brother’s hair before freeing himself from Tim’s hug to lean down to press a small kiss against Damian’s head and then bumping his fist against Duke’s.
“Oh, so, Jason gets a hug like that and I get a death threat?” Damian rolls his eyes and sinks further into his seat on the couch, pouting.
“Awh, Dami, come here.” Dick chuckles and walks over to Damian, swiftly hauling him up in his arms and bumping his forehead against his youngest brother’s. “Why did you get a death threat from Tim?”
“Take a wild guess.” Duke grins, throwing his arm around Cass’ shoulder when she sits down on the floor next to him.
Dick and Jason exchange a look and then Dick tiredly breathes out, “You woke him up by dumping a bucket of water on him, didn’t you?” Damian purses his lips, but he doesn’t say anything in response.
“Hey, at least this time he helped Tim clean up the room before Alfred could find out.” Hal says.
“Before I could find out what, exactly?” At Alfred’s voice, everyone in the room freezes.
Of course, Bruce is the one who finally says something. “Nothing you need to worry about, Alfred.”
Alfred hums. “If you say so, Master Bruce.”
“Anyways.” As he always does when he’s the one breaking the silence, Hal drags out the last syllable, looking around in the room, momentarily fixing his gaze on Dick, Jason and Cass. “How did the finals week go?”
At the question, Jason lets out a pained groan like he’d been stabbed and flops down on the couch with Tim still tucked against his side. Bruce winces in sympathy. “That bad, huh?”
“I mean, it wasn’t bad, I passed every class and all that but I’m pretty sure my brain was fried by the end of it.”
“One day I went to check up on him and he was passed out on the floor, drooling all over his handwritten notes and annotated books.” Dick chirps, earning out a glare from Jason that he completely ignores as he fishes his phone out of the pocket to proudly show the photo to Bruce and Hal. “I’m surprised his roommate didn’t kick him out when he went back to their dorm.”
“Bold of you to assume that my roommate even stayed in our dorm throughout the entire semester.” Now it’s Jason’s turn to grin proudly just like Dick did a few seconds ago. “Sounds familiar, Dickie?” In response, Dick throws a cushion directly to his face.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Bruce arches an eyebrow, looking back and forth between the boys.
“I did well this semester too.” Cass’ soft and quiet voice is what saves Dick from explaining himself before she switches to signing. “There are a few moves I need to work on but overall my ballet teachers were very proud.”
“I don’t doubt it for a second, Cass.” Bruce tells her with a small smile on his face, watching as Cass smiles back shyly and drops her gaze on the carpeted floor.
They all fall in the conversation. Bruce and Hall tell the kids about multiple interesting missions the Justice League has been on; Dick and Jason tell them more about college, Cassandra doing the same about the ballet school but mostly with sign language; Tim, Duke and Damian tell them about school and patrol, about how at this rate there's almost no crime in Gotham anymore.
Simply for the fun of it, Damian tries to change the topic by starting to talk about relationships and specifically about Tim’s best friend, but he’s quickly interrupted by Tim throwing a cushion directly at his face just like Dick did with Jason earlier, claiming that he is never going to tell Damian anything ever again. Bruce immediately gets the urge to ask Tim what Damian meant by bringing up his best friend in a conversation about dating but Hal squeezes his hand and softly shakes his head. He doesn’t need to say the words he will tell us when he’s ready for Bruce to still hear them.
As they talk, everyone cuddled up against someone somewhere in the room, time passes quickly and before they know it, it’s time for dinner and the sound of the doorbell is echoing in the manor.
“Hello, Alfred.”
“Hi, Alfred, how are you?”
It takes Bruce a second to realise who the voices belong to and when he does, he freezes against Hal who immediately asks, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I– I think I just heard my parents’ voices.” Bruce whispers with a hoarse voice, holding onto Hal’s hand like it’s his lifeline. He doesn’t understand why he feels like this, just like he doesn’t understand why Hal lets out a small chuckle before he presses a small kiss against Bruce’s cheek.
“Well, yeah, they just walked through the front door.” Hal tells him softly and then gets up from the couch, holding his hand out for Bruce to take. When he takes a good look at his face, he frowns, concern clear in his eyes. “B, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
Bruce doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say.
Blurry images flash in his mind.
Walking out of the theater with his parents. Someone pointing a gun at them. His father protecting them before falling. His mother screaming before falling as well. Sitting on the ground, crying. The pearls of his mother’s necklace shining under the moonlight. The police showing up.
But Bruce doesn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t know what any of it means, where any of those blurry images came from and why or how his parents are–
“Bruce?” Hal whispers quietly enough not to disturb the kids and the soft touch of his hand against his cheek is finally what gets Bruce to snap back to reality. “Baby, are you okay?”
“I– I’m fine.” Bruce says but he’s not really sure if he’s trying to convince Hal or himself. Either way, he intertwines his fingers with his husband’s and lets him pull him up from the couch, not letting go of him until they’re in the hallway.
“Bruce!” His mother exclaims with a smile that puts the sun to shame and immediately makes her way towards him, pulling him into a hug. That’s when Bruce finally lets go of Hal in order to wrap his arms around Martha.
“Mom.” He chokes out and buries his face against her throat, not being able to understand why he’s feeling so sentimental over hugging his mother who– who he saw just a few days ago.
“Oh, my boy, I’ve missed you so much.” Martha whispers to him sweetly and, much to Bruce’s dislike, breaks the hug to take a good look at Bruce’s face. She gently brushes the pads of her fingers against his cheek and Bruce barely manages to stop the tears from spilling over. “At this point, I don’t know if all these trips are worth being away from my family.”
Martha takes a step back to let Thomas hug Bruce as she greets Hal and starts talking to him, both of them walking in the direction of the living room where the kids are. Bruce holds onto his father for almost as long as he held onto his mother.
“Is everything okay, son?” Thomas asks him softly when Bruce finally manages to let him go so they can join the others in the living room as well.
Bruce nods, a small smile on his face. “It is now.”
– ☆ –
“Oh, now you’re just making things up, Tim!”
Tim looks at Jason with such an offended expression that it’d make someone think that Jason had just slapped him across the face with a fish. “I am not!”
“You want me to believe that you’re better at ice skating than Steph?!”
“Why is that so hard to believe?!”
“Timmy, I think it has something to do with the fact that you can’t really walk a few miles without tripping over something.” Dick says from the opposite side of the dining table, earning a hum of confirmation from Jason, all while Tim’s eye twitches.
“I am a vigilante, I go out every night as Red Robin and stop crime, I think I’m capable of walking without tripping over anything.” Tim is quick to defend himself, not really paying attention to how his fathers and his grandparents exchanged an amused look. “But, also, not all of us can treat gravity like it’s a minor inconvenience. Some of us weren’t born and raised on a trapeze.”
“No but the thing is that Steph is almost on the same level as Babs when it comes to ice skating so are you saying that you’re better than Babs?” Dick asks with that teasing grin on his face and continues stabbing the food on the plate with his fork. “Because I highly doubt that anyone is better than Babs.”
Tim stays silent for a moment and then crosses his arms in front of his chest, letting out a defeated sigh but the look on his face lets everyone in the dining room know that he’s not planning to give up that easily. “Then I guess we should all go and see for ourselves.” He says stubbornly and then looks at Jason with a sly smirk. “I’d love to see you do spins.”
Jason leans forward, pointing his fork at Tim. “You know what–” He starts but Bruce barely hears anything he says because when he moves in his seat, his shirt gets tugged down slightly and Bruce manages to catch a glimpse of his chest.
What takes him aback is that he doesn’t see any scars. Jason is supposed to have scars, starting from his shoulders, meeting in the middle and then going down. He doesn’t know how he knows that but he does. His son is supposed to have autopsy scars and he doesn’t.
Bruce has his chair pushed back and is up on his feet before he even realises that he’s moved.
“Bruce, is everything okay?” His mother asks quickly, worry clear in her eyes. Everyone in the room has fallen silent and they’re looking at Bruce with nothing but concern on their faces.
“Yeah, I– I just need a minute.” Bruce somehow manages to mumble out and then heads directly towards the balcony, his grip on the railing tight enough that his knuckles turn white.
He doesn’t know where the thought of Jason having autopsy scars came from, not when nothing as bad as that has ever happened to his son, but now that it’s in his head, he can’t get it out. He can’t explain why but somehow he knows that something isn’t the way it’s supposed to be and with that, the brain-splitting headache he felt earlier today is back.
Before he can even think about doing anything about it, the glass doors slide open behind him and he feels a gentle touch of someone’s hand on his shoulder. Bruce doesn’t need to look to know who it is, he already knows.
“Bruce, what’s going on?” Hal asks and squeezes his shoulder gently, probably an attempt to make him feel a bit comforted.
“Something isn’t right.” Bruce mutters under his breath quietly but apparently his voice is still loud enough for Hal to hear.
“What are you talking about? Hey, look at me.” Bruce does and his breath catches in his throat at the sight of that soft and loving look in Hal’s eyes but it’s not– something is not right. “B, I don’t know why you’re spiraling but–”
Bruce cuts him off before the man has a chance to finish the sentence. “Jason doesn’t have autopsy scars. He never got hurt and neither did Barbara.” He barely pays mind to the way his husband’s expression shifts from concerned to shocked and he just continues to speak, more to himself than to Hal as in his mind pieces fall in place like a puzzle. “Jason and Dick went to college and Cass went to ballet school. Tim and Damian are getting along, and so are Tim and Jason. Damian is acting like an actual kid his age instead of an assassin that he was trained to be. There’s no more crime in Gotham. My parents were never murdered but I still became Batman, the Justice League was still formed, I still met you.” He frees himself from Hal’s hold in order to grab his hand, looking at the ring on his finger before returning his gaze to his eyes. “I still fell in love with you and we got married because you felt the same way about me too.”
He drops Hal’s hand and takes a small step back, shaking his head when the man opens his mouth to say something to him, probably to convince him that whatever he’s thinking, it’s not correct. But Bruce knows that it is.
And just like that, Bruce knows that none of this is real, it can’t be.
The moment he admits it to himself, more blurry memories start to come back, flashing in his mind. He remembers going on a mission with the League to take care of some intergalactic terrorists, just like he remembers catching a glimpse of Black Mercy and hearing Clark yell at him to watch out before everything went dark.
“This isn’t real, none of it.” Bruce whispers, watching as Hal sighs out in defeat and glances over at the dining room where their family is happily chattering.
“No, but wouldn’t it be nice if it were?”
Bruce takes a step towards Hal and gently cups his jaw, pressing a small kiss against the corner of his mouth. “It would be but it’s not, and I can’t stay here.” For whatever reason, he waits for Hal to nod before he turns around and quickly walks back into the dining room.
His parents get up from their seats the moment they see him. “Bruce, what happened? Why are you crying?”
He’s crying? He didn’t even know that he was crying.
Instead of answering, Bruce throws his arms around their shoulders and pulls them into a tight hug, like he’s afraid that if he lets go, they will disappear. But that’s exactly what’s going to happen very soon and even though Bruce knows that it’s necessary, knows that he can’t stay here, not when none of this is real, he’s still not sure if he’s strong enough to actually go through with it.
“I love you and miss you both so much.” Bruce whispers with a trembling voice, tightening his grip on his parents just to keep holding onto them for a few more seconds. “Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you.”
“Oh, my sweet boy.” Martha cries and pulls back to look at Bruce’s face as she softly wipes the tears away from his face while Thomas gently squeezes his shoulder. “We miss you too and we’re so, so proud of you.”
And then everything goes dark.