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“Bruce!” The name had left Oliver’s lips before his brain could even try to comprehend or keep up the pretense of opsec.
Oliver was off at a run before he could think of anything else. He could hear some of the other Justice League members going off in his comms, but it didn’t matter. He had already heard Batman trying to give information across the radio channel and the thunderclap of the shot and the terrifying and sickening sound of it connecting while Batman cursed and bit back every single scream that must have wanted to claw its way out.
“Green Arrow, do not leave your position,” Batman tried to growl through the comms. It was punctuated by a wet cough.
“Batman, are you ok?”
“What’s happening, Batman?”
“Batman?”
Oliver changed the channel in his comm piece and kept running. He couldn’t listen to everyone else clamouring over each other without wanting to shout at every single one of them to take this more seriously when his idiot husband had gotten himself shot. He knew the approximate whereabouts of the Bat, he just had to get there.
“If you think I’m sticking with the Mission over making sure you didn’t just get your sorry ass killed, you’ve got another thing coming,” Oliver said over the private comms channel, his voice more steady than he felt.
The sound of a struggle in Oliver’s ear nearly had him scolding Bruce again before he could get a word in edgewise. He listened to the sound of fists meeting flesh and tried to track Bruce’s breathing as best he could over the crackling comm-line. Some animal sound came through from Batman just before the clattering of what had to be the gun that had shot him hit the ground.
“Stay in position,” Batman repeated, more hoarse than last he’d spoke, “I’m fine.”
Oliver barked a laugh, firing off several shots as a few of the masked lunatics whose party they’d ruined tried to rush him. He didn’t even quip at them as he went past, peering over the grates of the metal scaffolded catwalk to get a visual on Batman.
“Too late and, no you’re not. You can lie to everyone else on the public line. I’m not buying it.”
There was a click and Oliver’s head tilted marginally at the thought that Bruce had finally tripped his comm to the private channel as well.
“Where are you?” he asked.
Oliver vaulted the railing of the metal ramp to save having to run the whole corner to the lower level. He kept going. “I’m on my way,” he said, voice softening at the edges, “the bullet, did it pierce your armor?”
Bruce coughed again, the rustle of hair against the microphone spoke to the nod. “Yes,” he said weakly, “small-calibre AP round, miniaturized explosive incendiary.”
“You’re guessing from how it hit you or did you grab the info from the guy that shot you?”
“Oliver,” Bruce tried to laugh, he bit back a groan instead. “I’ve neutralized the threat.”
“Good,” Oliver began to curse internally over the fact that the mission briefing had set him and Batman at entirely separate sides of the area. “Hey,” he continued, “keep talking to me, big guy. If you go quiet, I’m gonna lose it.”
Bruce muttered something under his breath before, “thank you.”
Oliver tried not to stagger in his step at that, “don’t go sappy on me, now,” he tried for teasing, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Hang in there, baby, I’m almost there. Please just stay on the line.”
There was a tnk of leather on metal and the sound of Batman leaning against the wall, his breath was uneven and wet. Oliver’s stomach turned.
“’m still here.” Bruce mumbled, “adrenaline… worn…”
“I know, baby.” Oliver’s throat felt tight. As he looked over the edge of the catwalk, he finally saw the corridor that Bruce was down. “I’m so close to seeing you, are you able to move at all?”
“Little…” there came the sound of Bruce trying to push off the wall and having to bite back another groan instead, “…no.”
An exasperated sigh left Oliver, and he peered down the corridor once he’d made it, the shadows clung at odd angles. At the far end, he could see the hunched over figure of a man just barely hanging on. Bruce clung to the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright, one hand splayed on the wall itself while the other hand clutched his chest. The cape hung oddly from his shoulders with the heavy tilt to his shoulders.
“Bruce,” Oliver called softly, noticing how Batman’s head titled towards the sound of his voice coming directly instead of through the comm-link.
“…wound… sucking…” Batman let go of the wall long enough to gesture vaguely towards his chest, his head tilting as his brows furrowed with the pain and concentration he insisted on spending while so badly compromised. “No exit…”
Oliver stepped in and bore most of Bruce’s weight as they both worked to haul him off the wall. Oliver tried not to look at the spatters and little puddles of blood on the floor.
“The bullet’s still in there?” the question was more just to keep Bruce talking.
“Yes.”
Oliver brought Bruce out the same way he’d come in, though it was slow going.
“…Arrow… Green Arrow… comms channel one… report…”
The comm line was patchy, but the voice was Superman. Oliver flipped his comm back to the main channel when Bruce had signalled he needed a moment to rest while he tried and failed to catch his breath against the godawful wound that had left him with only one working lung. He coughed again and motioned to Oliver that he wanted his comm adjusted as well.
“Green Arrow, turning your comms off and abandoning your duty mid missi—”
Oliver cut clean through Aquaman’s attempt to berate him and addressed Superman directly, “Supes, we need an extraction immediately. Batman’s been hit.”
The line went silent, then:
“How bad is it?”
“Batman can’t be that hurt, can he?”
“He was fine just a minute ago…?”
“W…” Bruce paused, swallowing thickly and grimacing as he pressed his head back hard against the wall, “Di…ana… need you to… cover… me…” he paused, coughing again and spitting blood enough this time that Oliver clamoured in while ripping a piece of fabric from his tunic to wipe the corners of Bruce’s mouth after he’d spit the iron taste out, “…assume… no…” Bruce groaned, his breath struggling further and Oliver shushed him gently.
“Holy shit, Batman?”
“You ok, Spooky?”
Oliver didn’t push the cowl back, but he wanted to. He pressed his forehead against Batman’s, trying to catch an angle that would let him meet Bruce’s eyes through the lenses. Blood continued to gush from the ugly wound in his husband’s chest and Oliver tried to staunch it as best he could. It just made his gloves wet and hot.
“We need a dual extraction now,” Oliver repeated, “he’s lost too much blood to wait any longer.”
“Superman’s airborne,” the Flash came through just the same amount of time as the red and gold streak came to a skidding stop in front of Oliver and Bruce. Flash grimaced as he saw the state that Batman was in, “I can’t carry both of you, let me take him first. I’ll come back for you.”
“Green Arrow, the mission…”
“…can wait, Princess.” Oliver couldn’t keep the biting from his tone, “I’m not staying here until I know he’s going to be alright.”
The Flash was already gone and back, “Batman’s on-board shuttle S at Extraction point A. Green Arrow is manning the shuttle, Batman can’t do it on his own.”
Oliver gave the Speedster such a grateful look it nearly turned pleading.
“…Flash?”
“Batman is compromised, barely conscious. Let Green Arrow go; Lantern can cover long range.”
There was the second that Oliver recognized that the Flash had put hands on him, and barely a fraction of a lurching stomach before Oliver was standing next to the shuttle in question. There was barely a moment to thank the man before he was gone again, light blazing off back towards the fray of the mission.
In the med-bay on board the Watchtower, there were all manner of machines making noise. Oliver’s head hung where he sat, his eyes closed as the thick fog of sleep wanted to take him, but he wouldn’t let it. His hands clung to Bruce’s, each small, weak flex of fingers in his making his heart skip once.
“Do you have any idea how I’m supposed to explain this to the kids?” Oliver asked quietly, tilting his head up and opening his eyes, red-rimmed from exhaustion and crying, “that you’re late coming back because you decided to catch a bullet with your freaking lung?”
Bruce grimaced, though it could have approximated a laugh, “same… way you explain… you’re late… from watching me all night… after catching… bullet…”
A wet sound escaped Oliver as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Bruce’s jaw. The med team had left the cowl on for Batman’s privacy.
“You’re such an ass,” Oliver muttered, letting his head linger in the spot between Bruce’s jawline and the crook of his neck as he took pause. He continued, “you scared me,” he admit, “I was so scared I was going to lose you.”
Bruce stayed still and quiet, but Oliver could feel that he was being watched. They both jolted at the sound of the med bay doors hissing open. Wonder Woman and Aquaman had entered the room. The curtain around Batman’s bed slid open as they came over. Both seemed surprised to see Oliver there, though Wonder Woman looked thoughtful of the fact as Aquaman spoke,
“Green Arrow. Have you even let Batman have any recovery time?”
Oliver swallowed and stared at Arthur with the thousand yard stare of a man that had, if even for a moment, looked Death in the eye less than twenty-four hours prior and told the greedy fucker, no. It bounced off Aquaman.
“Did you not get the memo that I’m head nurse for the Bat?” he deadpanned.
“Even still, Green Arrow,” Wonder Woman tried gently, “we have something private to discuss with Batman.”
Oliver stared at both of them as if they’d just told him that they’d tested the moon and found it made of gorgonzola. His hands squeezed Bruce’s tightly for a moment before relaxing again, marginally.
“And it can’t wait until after he’s not intubated?”
“It’s of utmost importance.” Aquaman spoke like he was trying to be reassuring.
Oliver’s stare turned long. Neither Aquaman or Wonder Woman budged or even so much as shifted uncomfortably.
“Then you say it in front of me or you end up standing there the next three days because I’m not leaving.”
“Oliver…” Bruce rasped from the bed, his fingers fluttering in Oliver’s hands, “it’s… fine… “
Oliver shot his husband a look, “absolutely not. I’m not going anywhere. I am legally obligated to be here and—”
Bruce shook his head weakly, his head tilting towards Oliver that had Oliver’s hand automatically coming up to cup his face against the pillow.
“Stay.” Bruce managed to get out, “they talk… front… you… ‘r… nothing…”
“Batman, this isn’t…”
“Arthur,” Wonder Woman placed a hand on Aquaman’s arm, something dangerously close to understanding in her gaze as she looked from where Oliver was adjusting Batman’s head and neck on the pillow with hands so careful they scarcely kissed his skin to the other man, “perhaps it is best we do not separate them at this time.”
“But—”
“You heard her,” Oliver muttered, sitting back down and resting his elbow on his thigh to prop his head up as he waved vaguely with his other hand, “talk, or I’m pressing the buzzer and getting Medical to make you both leave for stressing out the patient and his loyal side piece.”
“Th… there are two matters to discuss,” Aquaman said brusquely, still seeming uncomfortable with the fact that Oliver was going to be sitting in, “the first…”
“Nightwing has made contact and given notice that he can take care of your private matters until your return. He said that a Penny One is deploying at full operational capacity,” Diana picked up, “he wishes you a speedy recovery.”
Oliver couldn’t bite back the sigh of relief that escaped him, his body sinking deeper into the chair. If Dick was taking care of things at home, then all the rest of the kids would be fine as well. Alfred holding down the fort with him would keep Dick from getting steamrolled by Roy trying to call all the shots. The mental image almost brought a smile to Oliver’s face. He smothered it in his hand and stole a peek at Bruce again for it, amusement dancing in his eyes at the slightest tick up at Bruce’s mouth.
“The second matter,” Aquaman, “is to do with your medical records. This information is private,” he looked pointedly at Green Arrow before continuing, “your next of kin lists a civilian name.”
“Yes…” Bruce said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his brows furrowing as if trying to understand why there was an issue at all, “my… record… isn’t… only one to… list… someone… outside League… why…?”
“We were going to try to contact them, but we were unsure if they were… aware… of your work.”
Bruce’s head tipped enough that it was obvious he was staring at Aquaman and Wonder Woman both with an expression that begged to question if they weren’t the ones that were doped up on heavy pain meds. His hand squeezed Oliver’s as tightly as he could manage.
“Aware…” Bruce swallowed and Oliver reached for the insulated cup of ice chips that one of the med staff had left earlier when making rounds, he let Bruce pause and placed the ice between his lips. The room felt heavy with the silence short of the whirring and beeping of medical machinery around them for the moment it took for the thirst to be even marginally slated. “He’s… Aware.” Bruce repeated, “Here… knows already… this…”
“You’ve already been in contact?” Aquaman sounded incredulous.
“Batman, no one has contacted your next of kin yet,” Wonder Woman started slowly, “and if you shared the information with other members, we need to know so that we can maintain priva—”
“Here.” Bruce repeated, lifting his hand that was connected to the IV and jabbing a finger in Oliver’s direction, the frustration beginning to make his heartbeat tick up, “he is… right here.”
“Have been,” Oliver muttered, rubbing his eyes and smoothing his thumb over Bruce’s hand that was still in his, “going on nearly forty years and counting.”
Bruce looked at him exasperatedly, but his breathing leveled out. “Odd count…” he managed to get out, a weak breath approximating a laugh going out of him, “closer to… twenty.”
Oliver smiled fondly, “you’re only counting since the Courthouse, sweetheart, I’m counting everything before that.”
Oliver watched in real time as Aquaman’s face went through several emotions within the span of seconds. Wonder Woman looked thoughtful, and then fond.
“Are the others aware of your bond?” Diana asked softly.
Oliver shrugged, his fingertips digging into Bruce’s hand when he moved like he was going to try and go off on another big tangent on a reinflated lung and the intubation in his chest. “We haven’t exactly been keeping it secret,” he said, “you all just assumed I was provoking him to be an asshole instead of just being an asshole that’s actually in love with him.”
“We will… let you have your privacy,” Arthur said, something in his tone that Oliver had never heard before, “if there has not been a formal announcement that is… yours to make.”
“Appreciated,” Oliver said with an exasperated laugh, “love not getting outed to the entire office just because my idiot husband got himself shot with an explosive round.”
Bruce’s tongue clicked in irritation against the roof of his mouth, “exaggerating…” he mumbled and Oliver shot him a look.
“Exaggerating which part? The part where you’re an idiot or the part where you got shot, because both are, actually, completely factual.”
That earned him a huffed laugh before Bruce relaxed again, though his expression was pained enough that Oliver stroked the side of his face in want to comfort. He knew the most he could do was just be there. But he absolutely didn’t have to like the fact. Aquaman was the first to shift somewhat uncomfortably. When Oliver looked over he found Arthur looking pointedly to the side as if he were the one witnessing something he shouldn’t. Wonder Woman looked thoughtful again, as though there were not only understanding behind her gaze as she watched unwaveringly, but some memory older than both Oliver, Bruce, and Aquaman put together.
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