"Princesses don't marry kitchen boys."
#1
“If you don’t marry her, I will.”
It’s an offhanded comment.
Ollie meets Laira for the first time and is immediately taken with her. Hal reminds him of Dinah, catching him by the back of his shirt before he can scurry away. Ollie tells him without missing so much as a beat that there’s more than one form of being taken with someone.
Hal calls that excuse for what it is: absolute bullshit.
Ollie, in turn, gets free of the hold and gives him a nudge to his ribs. “Don’t be so grumpy, sweetheart. I’m not going to interfere.”
“No interfering to be done. I just don’t want Dinah to go to jail for murdering you.”
“Right. Spit in someone else’s ear and tell them it’s raining.”
Hal doesn’t say anything right off, just nudges the archer back —probably a little harder than he needed to— and snorts.
“She’s way out of your league, Blondie.”
He doesn’t add that she’s way out of his own as well.
“Princesses don’t marry kitchen boys.”
#2
He’s more than a little surprised at the way they fall into such ease around one another. She begins to smile and to even talk more. She doesn’t flinch away when he gets close or when his fingers brush along her arm.
Instead, she begins to curl into him when he’s near and he welcomes her when she does. It reaches the point where it seems off when she’s not there with him.
“You are staring again.”
He blinks and looks up to where Laira stands, hair damp and towel in hand to wring some of the excess water from the long strands. “Sorry,” he murmurs, smiling up at her and sitting up on the bed. “I was thinking about something.”
She arches a brow at him, softly running the towel over her hair. “May I inquire what had such a hold on your thoughts?” she questions.
He shakes his head and snags the bottom of her nightshirt between his fingers. It’s one of his old dress shirts and it looks way better on her than it ever did on him. “Thinking about something Ollie said last time I saw him.”
She hums in understanding and gently slaps at his hand, managing to withhold a smile as she does so.
Hal pouts at her, but manages to get an arm around Laira’s waist and pull her to him.
“You’ve been in my closet again.”
“You did insist I help myself,” she reminds, not withholding her smile this time around.
“Glad to see you took me up on the offer,” he says. “You really don’t need to shirt to sleep in, though. I’ll keep you warm.”
The jab he gets to his ribs for the comment is worth him being able to see the princess’ cheeks darken.
#3
“No interfering. Right.”
The comment’s muttered to himself, lips quirked in a half smile as he watches the two Lanterns just in front of him. He knows by the way Laira’s eyes dart back at him that his comment’s been heard. Maybe it was just by her.
Nonetheless, he plays dumb and acts like he hasn’t said anything in the last few minutes.
He does keep watching as they walk, picking up on the way the princess drifts closer to his friend and how Hal’s own fingers reach to curl about Laira’s when she’s within reach.
Ollie had known there was something there between the princess and his friend. He just hadn’t known how serious or if it would even be acted on.
Laira was a by the book kind of woman. And Hal, well, his friend didn’t have the best track record when it came to women. He’d had the tendency to always fall back into something with Carol. After talking with his friend, though, it seemed like that shipped had sailed and Hal wasn’t going to pursue it anymore. Time would tell he supposed.
He grins —a full one, this time— and tries to act like he hasn’t just noticed Hal’s arm slipping up and around the princess’ waist.
Then, he makes a note to get in contact with Bruce at some point later that evening. They had a bet to settle.
#4
Hal’s never been one to mope. Brood, maybe, but Ollie’s friend has always had the tendency to hop on board the brood train when things have really gotten to him. Now, that’s not the case.
He’s moping and Ollie thinks that it’s the most severe case he’s ever seen the other in.
More often than not, Carol Ferris has been at the center of these instances. The Ferris Air CEO had always seemed to be at the root of personal dilemmas for Hal a good portion of the time.
A woman is still the root cause of the mood, but it’s not the one that’s been to blame in the past.
Maybe that’s what makes it so different this time around.
“I screwed up,” Hal mutters. He’s four glasses into Ollie’s good whiskey and the effects are already showing.
“Yeah, I kind of figured that.” He stashes the whiskey bottle away then. His friend’s had enough. No reason to add a brain buster of a hangover on top of everything else. He imagines they’ll be the hints of one there tomorrow anyway. Might as well keep it as subtle as he can. “The crying princess on my doorstep a few weeks ago was big clue that something had gone awry.”
Hal makes a sound that is similar to a groan. He’d known it was bad, just not quite that bad.
“Thought about punching you in the jaw when you got back,” Ollie continued, easing the glass out of Hal’s hand. “Looks like you’re already doing a good job of beating yourself up, though.”
“Any ideas?” Hal asks. Right now, he’s coming up empty and with Laira unwilling to see him presently, he’s looking for advice wherever he can get it.
“Fix it. Then marry her.”
Hal rubs a rough hand over his face and mutters, “Princesses don’t marry kitchen boys.”
#5
“Is that truly what he told you?” Laira asks.
Hal shifts his hold around her waist and moves his legs to give Laira more room to sit. His lips turn up in a smile against her neck and his chest rumbles with a laugh. “First words out of his mouth after he saw you.”
Her own lips quirk in a smile. “How very typical of Oliver.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more, Princess.”
“And what did you tell him?” she asks, glancing over at him as best she can.
“Princesses don’t marry kitchen boys.” His mouth moves against her skin as his fingers glide over the ring on her left hand.
She laughs soft and low at the words. “It is a relief then that you are a knight and no kitchen boy.”
