As a boy, Hal Jordan had been warned against the power of Magic. Not even the big magic, like genies in lamps and shooting stars, but quieter ones too. Like the wish you made when blowing out the candles on your birthday cake. Flipping a coin and whispering your hope for which half landed right side up. Even something as small as ‘I wish’ or ‘I hope’ had been threatened into him.
As an adult, Hal understood that it had just been his parents way of telling him to be careful with his words. A very, very roundabout way of saying ‘careful what you wish for’ that the Jordans couldn't be normal about, apparently.
As someone involved with magic on almost the daily, he also knew they'd been slightly exaggeratory. Yes, magic existed in words, and ‘hope’ and ‘wish’ did have their fair share of power. But not enough to make real change, not in that way. At least, not that Hal had ever experienced before.
So when Dick had yelled at him, blue eyes wide and angry, his tiny eight year old hands balled into fists and lower lip stuck out in the most aggressive pout Hal had ever seen in his life, “I hope the next time you fuck you get pregnant!” He hadn't been too worried about it.
One, because he was a man, and two because the boy had yelled it after Hal had refused to buy him ice cream.
“You can’t have ice cream before dinner, baby. We’ve been over this.” Hal murmured, wrapping his arms around the petulant eight year old and hefting him onto his hip. “We’ll go get some after we eat, yeah? Does that sound good?”
Dick crossed his arms, looking so adorable that for a moment Hal wanted to drop him and kick him into the opposite wall, but at last his anger faded a little. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Good.” Hal pressed a kiss to the boys head, setting him back on the ground. “Oh, and also don’t use such language. It’s unbecoming.”
Dick had rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out and run off. And Hal hadn't thought about it since.
Bruce had come home later, Hal and Dick had been watching Toy Story 3 and Dick had fallen asleep at some point around the Playground Scene, and together they’d carried him to bed and then Hal had taken Bruce slow and deep and they’d fallen asleep curled up together in Bruce’s large canopy bed.
Hal had woken in the morning to find Bruce already at work, a sweet note left behind for him, and Hal had gone about his day like normal. He’d gone to work, he’d picked Dick up from school -- all previous animosity faded from the boys eyes -- and they’d eaten dinner together, as a family.
Nothing had changed. Nothing seemed amiss.
A week later something had happened oversees, a betrayal or leak of some sort, and they were all subjected to a random blood test at work. Hal underwent them the way he always did, complaining and rolling his eyes, but compliant.
Carol had come up to him later, dismissing everyone and telling them they’d all passed and nothing seemed to be wrong.
Then she’d turned to him, and pulled him into another room for privacy.
“We ran the blood test like normal, and everything looks fine, Hal, really. Except uh… except you appear to be pregnant.”
Hal had laughed. The appropriate response to such news. She’d shrugged sheepishly and he’d clapped her on the back and wished her well and it became a bit for the next few weeks around work, people wishing him good health and Thomas even threw him a mock baby shower.
“Where are all these gifts coming from?” Bruce asked in amusement when he came home holding a baby crib and formula and other things his colleagues had decided the billionaires husband needed in order to ‘gayly’ raise a child -- their words, not his.
“Didn't you hear? You knocked me up, precious.” And Bruce laughed and showed him just how he would go about it if it were possible.
It wasn't until three whole months later, on a mission with the Justice League, that something… changed.
“Yeah, and then we’ll-” Clark froze, his body locking in a way that indicated danger, and Bruce twisted from where he’d been standing beside Hal, looking over at his oldest friend.
“Everything alright, Big Blue?” Hal called, wiping the back of his hand along his forehead and smearing away some of the grime that always came Post-Battle.
Clark’s red eyes narrowed, scanning the space around and between them. “Did you two bring Dick to an active battle?” He hissed, full Big Bad Uncle Protective Mode, and Bruce and Hal exchanged worried glances, calling out for their son and checking the regular places he sometimes liked to hide out in order to sneak into adventures with them.
“No. he’s not here.” Bruce confirmed a few minutes later, checking Dick’s tracker. “Hes still at the Manor. What was that Cal?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Clark apologized, rubbing his forehead sheepishly. “I thought I heard three heartbeats coming from you guys for a moment there and-” He froze, head twitching in the way it did when he picked up a sound but wasn't entirely sure what it was.
“Cal, you're sorta freakin me out.” Hal said as calmly as he dared, reknotting his shoelaces. “Whatcha hearing?”
Clark looked at him, his eyes roving along Hal’s body. Bruce let out a warning note in the back of his throat, pushing himself between his oldest friend and husband.
“Sorry, sorry.” Clark’s cheeks flamed a bright red and he took a staggered step back, raising his hands in surrender. “But… uh. Hal?”
Hal raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Boy Blue?”
“You uh… are you aware you’re… pregnant?”
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