By the time you and Hal joined the Justice League, most people could already see it coming—just not the two of you.

You’d arrived within months of each other, bright-eyed and stubborn, convinced the world could still be saved if someone punched the right problem hard enough. From the start, you stuck together. Missions, downtime, post-battle arguments over whose fault the collateral damage was. Bros. Always bros.

At least, that’s what you told yourselves.

The rest of the League told a different story.

Batman never said anything, but his silence was loud. Wonder Woman watched the two of you with knowing patience. Flash had a betting pool. Aquaman was in it. So was Zatanna. Even Superman—quietly, carefully—had once slipped twenty bucks onto the table with a fond smile.

When, not if.

Tonight’s sparring session was supposed to be routine. Stress relief. Training. Nothing personal.

That plan fell apart the moment Hal stepped onto the mat with you.

Green constructs flared as his ring came alive, the light reflecting in his eyes. You rolled your shoulders, familiar adrenaline buzzing under your skin. The room held a handful of League members—Flash lounging against the wall, Diana seated cross-legged nearby, Batman pretending not to observe every micro-movement.

“Try not to embarrass yourself,” Hal jested, smirking.

“You first,” you shot back.

The fight was clean at first—practice-level blows, controlled energy, the usual rhythm you and Hal shared like muscle memory. But something was off. Every near-miss lingered. Every grab held a fraction too long. When his hand closed around your wrist to redirect a strike, the contact sent a jolt straight through your chest.

The air between you tightened.

“Hal,” you muttered as he didn’t let go.

“Yeah?” he replied, voice low. Too low.

Green light flickered, unstable.

Flash’s eyes widened. “Oh. Ohhh. It’s happening.”

“Quiet,” Diana murmured, though her smile betrayed her.

You twisted free and backed up, breath unsteady. “Focus.”

“I am focused,” Hal said—and for once, you believed him.

He stepped closer. The sparring mat suddenly felt too small, the room too full. You could feel everyone watching, but Hal’s attention was locked on you like gravity had finally decided who it belonged to.

“You ever notice,” he said softly, “how everyone thinks they know us better than we know ourselves?”

Your pulse thundered. “They’re wrong.”

“Are they?”

The question hung there, electric.

Hal moved before either of you could overthink it. He closed the distance and kissed you—brief, unpolished, charged with years of restraint snapping all at once.

The room went dead silent.

You froze, shock racing through you—then instinct took over, and you kissed him back. Just once. Just enough to confirm what had always been there.

Hal pulled away, eyes wide, chest heaving. “I— I didn’t mean to—”

“Yes you did!” Flash exclaimed cheerfully. “I win fifty!”

Batman cleared his throat. “Training session is over.”

Diana rose gracefully, smiling at both of you. “About time.”

Hal looked at you, uncertainty and relief battling across his face. “I’m sorry if I crossed—”

You shook your head, a breathless laugh escaping. “We crossed it together.”

For the first time since you’d known him, Hal Jordan didn’t look like a fearless Green Lantern. He looked like a man realizing the truth had been obvious all along.

And the Justice League, finally, got to collect on their bets.