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Hal woke up to screaming. He turned around again in the king-sized bed and pressed his pillow over his head. He was too old to be woken up by fighting children. Or maybe Dick and Wally just hadn’t been quite the terrifying chaotic mess that was Damian and Helen.
After hearing yet another shout on one of Hal’s rare free days damn it, Hal finally got up. Bruce and Barry were nowhere to be seen, but that was nothing new. Barry was stuck on monitor duty and Bruce had traveled to France on Monday, chasing after a lead.
Hal should have taken the offer and gone with him, but no. Someone had to look after the children since everybody was coming over for the weekend. Hal stumbled out of bed with the grace of a hero who had suffered way too many injuries. On his way over to the door, he grabbed a shirt and put it on. It was a little big on him – one of Bruce’s then. He rubbed his eyes and for a split second he contemplated just letting Damian and Helen murder each other for another ten more minutes of sleep.
Then the second was over and Hal threw open the door. Helen and Damian came to a halt right in front of it, both looking appropriately caught.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Damian and Helen shared a look before switching to equally grave expressions.
“We’re fighting for the honor of killing Jason,” Damian explained nonchalantly like he wasn’t holding his training sword to Helen’s neck.
“He committed a serious crime,” Helen added, her glowing nerf-gun construct still aimed at Damian’s forehead.
Hal could still use his ring, go pick up Barry and get into a jet and visit Bruce. Eat some crêpes under the Eiffel tower while Bruce took down his arms dealer. It would be just like those summer months when Wally and Dick, who were the only kids running around the manor back then, went to San Francisco to work with their fellow Teen Titans.
Peace .
Yeah, Hal missed it.
“And what did Jason do?”
“He-“
“HeyguysIfoundthepaintgunsyouaskedfor- oh, fuck.”
Bart came to a stop just a few doors down the hallway, his arms full with paint guns and his shirt basically covered in acrylics. He looked at Damian and Helen, then to Hal and then back to the kids.
“Morning, Hal. I think I’mjustgonnagonowbye.”
“Oh, no!” Hal shouted back. “Don’t you dare run off, Bartholomew! How are you involved in this? And aren’t you supposed to be picking up Tim?”
Hal ignored Damian and Helen snickering at him using the speedster’s full name in favor of acting very intimidating and authoritative while still being dressed in his PJs with deep bags under his eyes.
Bart grinned sheepishly. “I already picked him up. I left him downstairs with Duke and Kyle. He sort of fell asleep on me on our way back home.”
“Kyle’s here?”
Bart shrugged. “He said something about dropping off an artifact, but Jason’s making pancakes for breakfast so he stayed.”
Hal pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. How did the saying go again? Kids are the future? Someone obviously forgot to attach the ‘because they’ll run you into an early grave’. France. Watchtower monitor duty.
“And if Jason’s making breakfast, why aren’t the three of you downstairs eating?”
“Because Jason threw us out of the kitchen,” Helen said. “We were interrupting his ‘workflow’ so he banned us! Uncle Hal, do you see now what terrible offense he has committed?”
Beside her, Damian nodded and once again raised his sword. “The evil has to be defeated.”
Hal had calmed down considerably since he had first become Earth’s Green Lantern. He didn’t rush into battle anymore, he had seen too many of his friends and comrades die. He had been dead, and been dealt an even worse fate for a while, and he had lowered both his lovers and his children into the ground at least once. No, Hal didn’t rush into war anymore and he carefully picked his battle nowadays.
This one he wasn’t going to fight.
“No maiming each other anymore,” Hal said and watched as three faces lit up with identical expressions of delight. “The house is off-limits for everything concerning paint, or you’re answering to Alfred. Outside of the manor, Gotham, Central and Coast are fair game, but not on patrol. Got it?”
“Got it!” They replied and rushed off in the opposite direction, jumping hopefully not straight into a loophole Hal had forgotten to cover. Either way, they were not Hal’s problem anymore. If they made a mess now, that weight would be on their shoulders, and they only had themselves to blame if Alfred’s cold disapproval would make them do chores until they turned eighteen.
Hal checked his watch. It was almost twelve. Jason had come to the manor late, and if he was making breakfast for everybody, he certainly wouldn’t be done yet. Hal made his way downstairs to the kitchen, passing the living room while he was at it.
Duke was playing a game on his Switch while Cassandra and Kyle were talking animatedly about whatever drawing Kyle was showing her.
And Tim was lying on the ground, his head resting on Titus’s body.
“Please tell me he decided to sleep there,” Hal said, already knowing the answer.
“Uuh,” Duke decidedly did not look up from his console while Cass just raised a brow.
When had they all become so sassy? Hal recalled their first weeks at the manor as if they had been just yesterday. Both of them had been so unsure and careful with everybody.
“Just put your brother on a sofa at least if nobody feels responsible for getting him in his room.”
Cass smiled at him and gave him a thumbs-up, but didn’t move from her spot. Right, why had he even bothered asking?
Next time, he’d let Barry and Bruce handle the weekend meet-ups. Hal had done the single-parent thing for a year, and it hadn’t been any fun having to be strong for so many grieving children. The least his partners could do was cover the family weekends until they actually died of old age.
The closer Hal got to the kitchen, the louder did the music in the hallway get. Today Jason had decided on classical tunes apparently, or as classic as Jason got. Hal wasn’t even sure where Jason found so many classic instrument covers of current songs, and he’d rather face Parallax than even suggest to Jason that he was recording his own violin plays, but fact was that Barry had found the corresponding scores in Jason’s bag once.
Jason was flipping another pancake when Hal entered the kitchen. The room was neat and orderly still, except for the side of the table Wally and Dick were sitting at. That part of the table was covered in Nutella, sprinkles, gummy worms, chocolate sauce, and fruits.
“Mo’nin’,” Dick greeted, his mouth stuffed with a pancake. Next to him, Wally only raised his hand and didn’t even stop inhaling his share.
“Good morning, boys,” Hal returned and sat down opposite from the duo.
“Slept well, old man?” Jason asked and put a plate with warm an delicious breakfast in front of him.
“I thought Bruce was the old man.”
Jason waved Hal’s comment off and took another gulp from his cup of coffee. “You’re all old, but only you are here this morning. You got any plans for today?”
Hal sneaked a look at the two oldest and, yes, Wally and Dick looked equally mischievously. Fourteen or twenty-four, was there really any difference with them?
“I’m not teaming up with you against the kiddos for Cluedo.”
“Why not?” Wally asked. “This week’s price is deciding the Thanksgiving dinner. Hal, please. We need to win. I need that turkey and Damian will do his best to stop it.”
Hal bit off another piece of his pancake. Out of all of them, minus Alfred of course, Jason could cook the best. If Jason willingly made anything for you, you accepted without hesitance, which was precisely why Hal stole another pancake before he replied.
“I know, which is why Barry, Bruce, and I are working against the rest of you. We’re not eating candied apples for dessert again or tofu turkey or any other monstrosity you kids come up with every year. This year it’s adults against the rest of you. May the better team win.”
Silence followed Hal’s statement before the kitchen’s other three occupants began to complain loudly. Hal could only grin. Okay, yes, this was better than the Watchtower or France.
“Jason! Come out and face us, you coward!”
Even if it came with the possibility of a hospital visit.