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Bruce Wayne wasn’t in love. He simply wasn’t. Addicted? Maybe.
It just started as an agreement they came to. Nothing serious. No strings attached. A casual hookup once and a while to let off some steam. When Hal would come back to Earth after a particularly rough mission and just needed to let go. When the stress in Bruce’s life just became so overwhelming and he needed to blow off some steam. Hal Jordan and his crooked smile. His loud mouth is always spilling something more annoying than the last. He got on Bruce’s nerves on a good day. The same Hal Jordan who he got into arguments with at every single meeting. The same Hal Jordan who knew every single button to push but not when to stop. Bruce hated Hal Jordan. But that didn’t stop them from falling into bed every once and a while, and once it started, it was hard to stop. The first time was chalked up to a drunk mistake. Something that wouldn’t happen again. Until it did. Until Hal came back from a two month Lantern mission not fully in his right state of mind and pushed Bruce into an empty hallway at the Watchtower. Got up in his face, hands on his chest and whispered out a quiet “ please”. And suddenly, Bruce was helpless to deny him.
After that it was easier. Just the two of them tucked away up in Bruce’s penthouse, curled up in silk sheets. Using each other while letting the other use them too. It was fine. It was something they both just needed. The first few times were rough. All those years of pent up anger and aggression on both ends finally came to a head, leaving them both with angry hickeys and bite marks that lasted for days. Bruce would still think back to those early days. How Hal nipped at the skin on his chest. Teeth sinking into the smooth flesh and the way his teeth marks stayed, turning a dark purple before fading out to green. Ironic. At this point, it was becoming more and more frequent. Every two or three days the two of them would hide away from the rest of the world curled up in bed together. Bruce doesn’t really remember when it stopped fully being about the sex. When it turned from quick and messy hookups where Hal would leave right after, to staying curled up in each other, the pilot lighting tracing constellation patterns on Bruce’s skin. Leaving feather light kisses on his shoulder and neck as they looked out at the Gotham skyline. He liked it better this way though. The company. The weight of another person in bed with him as they drifted off to sleep.
Bruce Wayne wasn’t in love with Hal Jordan. But he was in love with some of the things he did. He was in love with the way Hal would let out a breathy chuckle mid make out. The way he threw his head back when Bruce kissed that one spot on his neck. The little sighs he could pull from his throat with a few touches. He was in love with the way Hal used him. He was also in love with the way Hal let himself be used.
Sometimes, Bruce caught himself wanting to say things he shouldn’t. Things he had no business saying. They had an agreement. No strings. No feelings. That was what they agreed to. But sometimes, Bruce was almost desperate not to let him go. To get the other man to stay just a little bit longer. Just to lay in silence, arms wrapped around each other, breathing in time with the other. Just to be able to run his fingers ever so gently through that brown hair he wanted to press a kiss to. Sometimes while sitting up in that bed with Hal on his lap, hands on his hips, he wanted to whisper what he was thinking. I just want your company, so ride slow. He almost wanted to beg sometimes. Beg Hal to stay just a little longer. Sometimes Hal did stay. He’d fall asleep pressed into Bruce’s side. He’d stay for coffee in the morning as the two sat out on the balcony. It was those times Bruce could pretend. Coffee in hand, sitting on the couch on the balcony with an arm wrapped around Hal’s shoulders that were draped in Bruce’s clothes. Sitting in comfortable silence in the early morning light. Watching the way the sunrise would catch in Hal’s honey brown eyes and bounce off the messy brown bed head he hasn’t fixed yet. It was almost perfect. Perfect until Hal would finish his coffee, give Bruce a quick kiss goodbye before flying off back to California with a promise to text.
As time went on, watching Hal leave got harder and harder. It was harder and harder to let him go. To not hold on and ask him to stay and not leave again. Ever. It was harder to not grab the pilot's hand and press light kisses into the skin until Hal felt the same way back. Until he was begging Bruce to let him stay. If Hal asked, Bruce would hold on and just not let go. There wasn’t much Bruce would say no to if Hal asked. Not anymore. Not anything if it meant Hal would just stay. Stay here in the comfortable little bubble they had built for themselves in the penthouse. High above any other worries or problems they had.
It was a strange turn of events. When things started, Bruce would go in all pent up. Almost vibrating with rage and anxiety, but leaving more relaxed than he thought was possible. In the middle, he would just leave happy. All that pent up anger was replaced by content happiness. Now, it was just...sad. He’d watch Hal leave out the door to fly off from the roof and the sight just made his body tense up and memories of the night before flash in his mind. The way Hal would moan a breathy Baby in his ear. The way Hal’s arms would snake around his neck and hold him close. The way his breaths came and rocked against Bruce like he couldn’t get enough. Whispering sweet pet names in his ear as he begged for more. The way Hal looked on top, with messy hair and mouth slightly open as he moaned Bruce’s name. Bruce was addicted to it all. Addicted to the very essence that was Hal Jordan.
Bruce Wayne was helplessly and utterly in love with Hal Jordan. Would he ever tell him that? Never. He refused to pop their little bubble. So when Dick asked, Bruce denied.
Bruce Wayne wasn’t in love.