Hal and Bruce snippet revolving around migraines that may or may not end up the center of a full fic (mentions of domestic/sexual violence):
“You have a headache.” Bruce says it like Hal is unaware of the throbbing pain behind his eye.
“I always have a fucking headache,” Hal snaps.
“I’ve been informed that’s not normal." There's a somewhat self-deprecating twist to Bruce’s mouth. God, Hal hates the way that Bruce’s temper never flares up quite when he expects it to. “You might want to figure out a root cause or two.”
“Oh, I know why I get them.”
Bruce doesn’t ask, just tilts his head and checks something on the navigation. That’s why Hal elaborates after a few shallow breaths, pain sparking through his forehead.
“Boyfriend in my younger, stupider days—they existed, believe it or not, hold your comments on my current stupidity levels to the end-- who thought real life was porn,” Hal says lightly. “This one time, he hauled off and slapped me in the face a couple times. I blacked out, he didn’t stop, that part was my bad for not tapping out at the time, but—you know.”
Hal is pretty sure Bruce’s stare could ignite jet fuel, the way his creepy pale eyes are burning into the side of Hal’s head.
“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Hal adds, feeling obscurely defensive of a jackass from twenty years ago. “It’s just that something crunched in my neck, and when I woke up, I had a headache. Kind of.” Hal gestures vaguely from the left side of his neck to above his eyebrow. He uses his right hand. Using his left arm more than necessary seems like a bad idea right now, since it pulls on his neck at the worst times. “It just never really stopped. It's a fun reminder. Can you please glare in the direction of the window or something? I feel like I have spinach in my teeth or something.”
Bruce turns his head 180 degrees to look out the window as requested. Robot. “You don’t like spinach. You wouldn’t have it in your teeth.”
“That’s—why do you know that? It’s weird that you know that.”
“You picked some off of your sandwich once.”
“That—” Hal has to dig through his memories of tense strategic meetings. “That was at least three years ago.”
Bruce is still staring out the window. “Yes.”
“You just keep that information pulled up in your mental file?”
“I have a difficult time forgetting things.”
Bruce injecting nerve blockers into Hal’s neck using Clark as an xray machine send tweet
