Selectively mute Bruce who doesn't feel comfortable enough to be able to speak when the Justice League members are around, But also doesn't want to explain that he literally can't do it (he's already one of the few humans on the team, no reason to make the others doubt his capacity) so everyone assumes he's simply choosing to be an asshole and refusing to communicate with them because he thinks so highly of himself, so they keep distance from him on the best days and are passive aggressive on the worst
They feel really jerky when they see Batman using ASL to talk to Dickbin, but also, everything would have been so avoidable if Bruce hadn't preferred to suffer in silence
Anon. Anon tell me the pun was deliberate. Anon tell me the pun was deliberate. Anon please.
Imagine if they figure it out slowly. And because 1. I love the trope of the least probable character and 2. My poor shipper heart imagine if the first to clue in is Hal.
He goes to seek out Spooky, and finds him sat on the floor, Robin sat on his knee, and at first he pauses because that's a cute sight, then he pauses because what are they doing. Ohhhh. Shit. Right.
Argument forgotten, he backtracks, and can't stop thinking about it. He doesn't say anything, what would he even say. To Bruce or to the JL, and ignores the glances when he takes a step back from their groaning and grumbling about Batman being full of himself. When it's down to his silence anyway, Hal isn't blind to the fact Batman knows he's good.
It is nearly six months before Hal does anything, and he really should have expected things to end this way.
They haven't been a team for a year yet, things are still rough around the edges, and yet again a spat between all of them from a mission went wrong turned into a shouting match, that warped into yelling at Batman when he didn't rise to the challenge like everyone else.
And he remembers six months ago.
So he uses everything he's learned since, and snaps his fingers in Bruce's face because he's stopped even responding their yelling. Bruce lifts his head, scowling, and Hal quickly moves his hands.
"You're an asshole," he signs. Bruce freezes. Grins. Scowls.
"I followed the plan," he signs back, and Hal scoffs.
The noise of the rest of the room falls away as the two of them become more intense, words cutting through the air, sharp hand movements and harsh gestures. Both of them essentially yelling at each other, until they're forcibly separated by a confused Diana and told to take a walk.
The next week Clark clumsily signs thank you after Bruce hasn't spoken all meeting. Barry's hands blur, but Bruce chuckles and nods all the same.
Everyone starts picking it up.
Hal signs at him from a distance that he could've told them months ago and avoided all the hassle, and they argue across the room until J'onn stands between them.
Hal knows Bruce's hands by now, which is a strange thing to say, he supposes, but also maybe similar to saying you know someone's voice. So when those hands grab him, pulling him into a closet, he wonders if all the progress towards something Hal would actually like to call friends was all in his head.
Then lips slam into his, and as he crowds Bruce against the door and gives as good as he gets, the thought suddenly strikes him that boyfriends sounds so much better.
