Chapter Text
Everyone assumes Batman is the smartest in the Justice League, and for good reason.
Even though he was a founding member who then formally joined later, everyone knows he’s at the heart of the group and the brains behind everything: battle plans and maneuvers, contingency plans, and nifty gadgets that help people in a pinch. People trust Batman, not inherently because he’s the sweetest guy around like Supes. He’s usually hiding something from you, but much to Hal’s begrudging respect, it’s because it’s usually for the best.
Here’s the thing: Hal Jordan knows Batman’s identity. Batman is Bruce motherfucking Wayne. The billionaire Playboy turned DILF philanthropist. That’s the guy that dresses up as a bat and beats people up.
Hal, in comparison, is not consistently recognized as the sharpest tool in the toolbox, much less the toolshed that is the League, but he’s pretty damn smart in his own right.
Sure, he struggled a bit in school. He had a hard time paying attention. He knew what he wanted to study, what general knowledge to hold onto, and was smart enough to figure out what was enough to get by with a passing grade. You can’t be a pilot without a solid educational foundation.
(If audiobooks and YouTube were a thing back then, he knows he would’ve been unstoppable.)
That’s the thing; he’s got a slightly short attention span. It’s longer than Barry’s, but that’s not even a fair comparison. Hell, Killowog has scolded him multiple times for playing ping-pong with his constructs in meetings he called for himself.
Suffice to say that Batman isn’t exactly pleased about that lack of attention.
Which is what brings Hal to his remarkable conclusion right now. He, Hal Jordan, is a fucking genius.
A short attention span means when he’s back planetside, he has to learn his news in brief, easily digestible ways, such as TikTok and Twitter. And you know who trends a bunch on those sites? Brucie Wayne.
Yeah, he spends most of his time on those apps listening to or reviewing summaries of famous stories that some rando posts and abridges from Air & Space Magazine. Still, every once in a while, Brucie Wayne does something so outrageous that news of him ends up on his For You Page.
The man is ditzy, stupid, and rich but well-meaning. Last week, the man had a new yacht made with the latest shipbuilding technology provided by Wayne Enterprises, which he aptly named Global Warming to bring awareness to rising sea levels… and then likely christened every surface of with the gaggle of models seen by his side from the photos.
Was it well-meaning? Yes.
Was it stupid? Also yes.
Brucie Wayne’s move is the equivalent of Kim Kardashian and her newly launched bras with built-in nipples so that one will “always look cold” despite rising temperatures.
What is it with rich people bringing awareness about global warming in the most inane manner?
On that note, knowing the Wayne family is like knowing the Kardashians; if you don’t know who they are and what they do, you at least vaguely know what they look like- and vice versa. The fact that Oliver tells old stories about the guy so often is another thing; it’d be hard not to remember the man who drunkenly kissed the mayor. And on top of that, Brucie Wayne is comically attractive. With his broad shoulders, smooth voice, tall figure, and wildly entertaining nature, resisting him as a celebrity crush is futile. The fact that the man is a benefactor of The League doesn’t help his heart either.
So mix a handsome ditz with a heart of gold, and you get an honest-to-God, real-life himbo. And the internet loves himbos. Hal would know. The other night, he saw over a hundred edits and videos of Bruce Wayne on his recommended page.
The way K-pop stans can recognize idols by their facial features, fingertips, or their hair color in specific lighting is the way Hal Jordan concludes that Batman is Bruce Wayne.
He recognizes the gorgeous lips of the man currently scolding him for currently not paying attention. Once he notices that, it’s easy to see everything else.
“Lantern. Is there something more important than a meeting discussing the allocation of support to victims in the newest attack?” Batman’s– Brucie’s sarcasm is biting and harsh, but the velvety undertone of his natural voice is definitely there, sending a rush of butterflies through Hal’s stomach.
“No,” Hal replies, drawing the word out. He so badly wants to slam his hands on the table, jump up and down like a lunatic, and rip Batman’s cowl off his head- probable safety precautions be damned!
“Well, focus.” The billionaire sneers. “Just because I often question your capacity to keep up does not mean you shouldn’t try to.”
Well, fuck that guy. Dreams are crushed. Daydreams are fanned away with a metaphorical giant green construct of a hand. Bruce Wayne, the Batman, is a dick! So caught up in his revelations, Hal forgot that he almost hates the guy.
He vaguely remembers Bruce Wayne’s background– but dead parents be damned. He’s not getting pity points from Hal here.
“Fuck you, Br–” Hal almost reveals the man’s identity but quickly saves it, “–atman! You’re so stuck up, Spooky.”
Hal can see the twitch of Batman’s eye lens, no doubt caused by his momentary surprise at the scare. Whether it’s because of that or not, Batman just growls before backing off with a muttered comment about “Childish behavior.”
The rest of the meeting goes smoothly. Or at least, Hal thinks it does. He can’t take his eyes off Bruce for the rest of their time together.
Seriously, now that he knows, he can’t unsee it. Regardless of whether or not Bruce Wayne is underneath that mask (he totally is), it’s in his nature to annoy Batman like right now, where he’s still sitting in his seat despite the League meeting called to a close.
It’s not that he doesn’t see the worried stares of Green Arrow and Flash when they leave the room, but he’s too excited at the prospect of getting in Batman’s head with this newfound information.
Batman always stays behind unless there’s urgent business in Gotham or he doesn‘t want to deal with everyone, but it seems today is the foremost one. He bets it’s because of the almost-slip-up earlier.
As soon as they are alone in the room, Hal excitedly turns to Brucie, previous ire forgotten.
“So, Brucie Wayne, huh? Never woulda guessed, Spooky.” Hal leans back in his chair, arms behind his head with a leg crossed over the other in a show of faux confidence and calm.
“What are you playing at, Lantern?” Batman’s lips are pulled into a frown, and his tone is searching, prodding– like he’s trying to see if Hal is joking or genuinely knows.
“Nothing.” Hal raises his hands in mock surrender to show he means no harm. “Look, the code of capes, masks, and cowls: I won’t tell anyone your civilian identity.” He smiles. “I’m just letting you know that I know so that you know I’m the smartest in the League.”
“What are you talking about?” Batman applies the same tactic as earlier.
“Well, you’re the smartest, I digress– so maybe I’m the second smartest, but finding out your identity? C’mon Brucie, give me some credit, it’s pretty impressive.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“But not because I’m wrong, right?” Hal knows he’s being a little shit, but it’s just payback.
“Lantern.”
“Alright. Alright.” Hal smiles at the man, thinking about the implications of Batman and Brucie being the same person. There’s a lot of respect found. “I’ll back off, but I have to admit, I’m surprised by it. I mean, the Brucie Wayne. I never would’ve guessed.”
There’s a pause as Brucie knows Hal will continue to speak.
“Except…” Hal grins, all too proud, “I just did.”
Brucie sighs, his hand meeting his head in what would’ve been a gesture to sweep his hair back, but he swishes against the smooth surface of the cowl. The frown and slight twitch of displeasure at the corner of his mouth are enough for Hal to recognize that it’s a silent question.
“It was your lips that gave it away,” Hal says, mouth moving faster than his mind or self-preservation instincts. Knowing that he’s talking to the playboy makes it harder for his instincts to detect danger. “I’d recognize those gorgeous lips anywhere, Brucie.”
“Bruce,” is what the other supplies, his voice stern. ”Brucie is also a persona. It’s just Bruce.”
With that, Batman presses something to the side of his cowl before slipping it off.
“Well, goddamn, Spooky.” Hal drinks in the sight of Bruce Wayne in the Batman suit before him. The cowl and sweat slightly mat the man’s dark hair, there’s a slight flush to his cheeks from idents where the cowl rested, and his eyes are a stunning icy blue. “It’s nice to meet you, Bruce. I’m–”
“Harold Jordan,” because, of course, Batman knows his identity.
“Just call me Hal.” The Lantern just sighs and slips off his ring, his suit and mask fading away, before stretching out his hand. Bruce takes it, giving it a firmer-than-necessary shake.
“You were right, Jordan,” Bruce admits, and Hal can feel his heart soar. Gods, he wishes he had that as a recording so he could replay it to make up for every insult Batman hurled his way.
“Yeah? I mean, I’m surprised, but not really cuz–”
Whatever Hal is about to say is cut off when he sees Bruce smirk at him, teasing. “You are the second smartest in the League.”
He’s never seen that look on Bruce’s face before. Hal doesn’t know if he wants to punch this guy with his fists or lips, but before he can decide, Bruce has already slid his cowl back on and left the room.
He’s leaning towards fists.