It's a man's romance.

HAL'S POV:

As I’ve mentioned previously, Hal actually loves both of his dads and has either forgiven them for the less savoury aspects of their personalities or just genuinely doesn’t care about it and is fine with it. People tend to feel bad for him because of who his parents are and how they treat him (neglectfully/dismissively at best, meanly at worse) but Hal being who he is (both personality-wise and because of his nature) treats it as normal and isn’t fazed by it, never was. The only thing that gets to him is them arguing over the dumbest things over and over again which lowkey annoyed him even as a child because it gets old real fast. He’s deeply empathic, well-adjusted mentally/emotionally and has a great understanding of their true feelings and the way they think (especially Bill given that he’s originally a part of him), so he’s always able to read between the lines and decipher what they really mean.

Hal knows that both his parents do love him, as twisted and subtle as that love is, not only now that he’s older and they got used/attached to him, but even from the very beginning: they must love him, because if they didn’t, he wouldn't even exist in the first place. This allows him to carry on with their relationship with peace and confidence, which obviously would’ve been very different if he wasn’t a supernatural being and was just a normal child instead (again feel free to ask his birth in more detail if you wish!) Being Hal with his parents is basically being a relationship psychiatrist smacked right in the middle of two of the most stubborn and dishonest people to ever exist in the entire multiverse… Not only does he navigate their dysfunctional relationship, he also interprets it, translates it, and somehow makes peace with it. Wish him luck, he’ll need it… :/

Of course, his parents feel a lot differently about him and the situation in general, especially since Hal’s sudden existence was completely unexpected and unwanted on both sides and neither of them will acknowledge that Hal was born from Bill’s love for Ford.

FORD'S POV:

Given the fact that Hal was born during the time both Bill and Ford were institutionalised in Theraprism (Ford mostly because of his involvement with Bill) and therefore Post!Portal/Betrayal, Ford still harbours a lot of resentment, hurt and hatred towards Bill (even more now that he’s forced in close quarters with him again), feelings he clearly hasn’t worked through or even really processed since everything happened, so he’s obviously not in a very good space mentally to even accept Hal’s existence at first. He’s extremely upset about Hal, part because he doesn’t want anything else tying him to Bill, god forbid a “child”/another being, and part because Ford believes this to be another one of Bill’s twisted scheme or manipulation attempt (given that Hal was created from Bill by accident), so he’s definitely not impressed by it even when Bill angrily claims it was accidental on his part. Ford directs his anger at Bill, thinking him responsible for this mess yet again, but never turns that anger towards Hal, aware that he’s innocent in this and because Ford can’t bring himself to get mad at a child (or something that looks close to one anyway), even a child of Bill’s. Ford is mostly dismissive of Hal at first, opting to ignore him and acting rather coldly and impersonal with him. Over time, though, that detachment dulls into a reluctant pity. As much as he resents the circumstances surrounding Hal’s existence, Ford can’t help but feel bad for him, and for a while the only consideration he can give him is to acknowledge that the situation isn’t fair to him and tiredly apologizes to Hal for being “born in this mess” (paralleling his own experience with his own family). Ford knows what it’s like to inherit other’s burdens or not being able to choose the family you’re born into, and that quiet recognition begins to soften him, if only a little. At first, it’s small things: answering one of Hal’s many question, keeping a drawing Hal made for him, or even just acknowledging his presence and listening to him ramble… None of it is openly affectionate, but it’s not nothing either... It’s a start. What unsettles Ford most is how much of himself he sees in Hal: the curiosity, the persistence, even the six-fingered hands… They even share similar hobbies and interests. He tries not to dwell on it but the resemblance gnaws at him. By this point, Ford isn’t cold so much as weary. Years of anger and fighting have left him resigned, and in that exhaustion he allows Hal a little more room, occasionally allowing himself to awkwardly patting him on the head. He won’t call it love, but he feels a quiet sympathy for the boy, and though he buries the thought quickly, sometimes he even feels a flicker of pride too.

BILL'S POV:

For Bill, well… It’s a lot more complicated and nuanced, and needs for the most part to be explored through Ford as a lens. As I’ve stated, Hal is literally born from Bill’s love for Ford, he literally represents and embodies that love, therefore Bill cannot not love him if only on principle. Because just as Hal is a part of Bill, he’s also a part of Ford, through Bill’s perception of him (if that makes sense). In a true Bill fashion (both a contrarian and a hypocrite), he would both loathe Hal’s existence for being the physical embodiment of everything he hates about himself (aka everything “soft” and “weak” that could potentially be a liability, like his attachment to Ford and the love he couldn’t kill) but he would also become very upset if someone tried to dismiss Hal’s existence or imply that Hal isn’t neither his or Ford’s child.

His relationship to Hal reflects his own feelings for Ford in the sense that Bill loves Ford, hates that he loves Ford and denies being attached to him (as it would be too vulnerable for him to admit) but he would also lose his marbles if someone tried to talk shit about Ford or agree with Bill that their relationship wasn’t real or special (since Bill is in denial and is obviously lying when he says he doesn’t care about Ford), and it’s the same thing with Hal: Bill hates the vulnerability he represents but appreciates that Hal is the living, breathing, undeniable proof that their bond is real (not to mention the fact that Hal is technically the only thing left he still “has” of Ford, a little piece of him that Ford can never take from him even if he wanted to).

That contradiction defines their relationship from the start. Bill greets Hal’s existence with open hostility and his “parenting” consists of him lashing out at Hal with pure denial, passive aggression and malice: Bill mocks him, sneers at his curiosity, tears down his every word as if to prove that he feels nothing. But the cruelty is almost too pointed, too obsessive; every insult he hurls is also one he might as well aim at himself, since most of the traits he mocks in Hal are reflections of his own. Hal, annoyingly, doesn’t rise to the bait, which only makes Bill press harder, trying to claw some kind of reaction out of him, trying to see if he can push him away the same way he did with Ford.

And yet, there are boundaries to Bill’s cruelty, lines even he refuses to cross... For all his jeers, he never once mocks Hal’s six-fingered hands. Bill knows those hands are Ford’s legacy, something Ford has always been painfully self-conscious about, and though Bill will happily exploit nearly every insecurity under the sun, he will not touch that one. Not even Ford was spared of that particular insult during their “breakup”, which is something he does regret and this is his way of atoning for it: by not repeating the same mistake with Hal, especially since Bill himself has always loved Ford’s hands (although that truth now sounds like a lie to Ford due to all the distrust between them). His silence on the subject is deafening. For someone who thrives on tearing people apart, that restraint says more than any declaration of affection ever could (and what make this even sadder is that little Hal would often morph his hands to only have five fingers around Bill since looking at his usual hands makes Bill sad and Hal doesn’t want to see him upset).

Over time, his hostility doesn’t disappear, but it becomes more layered. He still calls Hal names and pretends he doesn’t care but he lingers nearby when Hal is working on something, offering a cryptic riddle that turns out to be useful, or snapping at someone who are either too mean to Hal or on the contrary a bit too nice. The contradictions pile up: he claims Hal is worthless, yet he can’t stand anyone else treating him that way. He insists Hal doesn’t matter, yet he bristles at the idea of losing him. He starts to hover around a lot more and pays more attention to him even if he pretends not to, casually using little things he learned about Hal to insult him, showing he cares in his own twisted way, showing him attention in the only way he’s comfortable doing (can’t let anyone know he likes the kid after all, especially not Ford… he’s basically a huge tsundere).

Hal, perceptive as ever, sees through all of this, but remains unfazed by it, and that’s what unsettles Bill the most. Hal just accepts him, flaws and all, and that acceptance eats at Bill, because it proves Hal is a part of him more than he ever wants to believe or accept. Bill refuses to ever admit attachment, won’t likely ever call it “love” either, but he is quietly, possessively proud of Hal. Not proud in the way Ford is (aka quiet sympathy turning into gentle acknowledgement) but in the way only Bill could be: furious at himself for even caring, yet unwilling to let go of the one undeniable piece of proof that his bond with Ford was real. Even when he mocks Hal most viciously, it’s with an edge of recognition because, beneath the cruelty, Bill knows he sees himself and Ford both in the boy. He’ll never say it out loud, but Hal is the one thing he’ll never let anyone else touch.

As for your next question, Ford and Bill’s ideas of “raising a child” couldn’t be more different indeed, and honestly neither of them are very healthy (shocking, I know)... Or, more accurately, I think it’d be best to say that they (funnily enough) share the same “end goal” of raising a child (aka raise a strong, independent and fulfilled child) but both would go wildly differently about it, shaped by their own life experience/emotional baggage and personal philosophies, but maybe not in the ways you would expect from either of them. For the sake of this scenario, let’s assume that Ford and Bill are raising Hal on Earth rather than Theraprism here. After thinking quite a while on it, I found that, based on their personalities in this AU, it would make sense for them to have a certain vision of parenting that would seem more suited for the other, as if they had switched them almost. Let me explain: I personally feel that Ford would encourage Hal to fully embrace his powers and otherworldly nature (not to do bad of course) while Bill might surprisingly be more on the fence about it and actually be more cautious about Hal using his powers recklessly, urging him to be more careful and wary of them.

For FORD, that stems from his own lifelong struggles with shame, difference and rejection. He knows what it feels like to be treated as a “freak” for something you can’t control (his hands, his intellect, his obsessions), and he doesn’t want Hal to inherit that same cycle of self-consciousness. So Ford, in his quiet, weary way, tries to give Hal the freedom and encouragement he never had himself: telling him to be curious, to explore, to see his oddness as strength rather than shame. Of course, this isn’t entirely selfless: it’s also Ford projecting, trying to heal old wounds by making sure Hal doesn’t repeat his mistakes. It’s a mix of pride, ego, and fear. On one hand, he sees Hal as the fulfilment of a power fantasy: the child he wishes he could’ve been when he was young and ostracized for “only” an extra finger and an unusual mind. Hal’s strength, strangeness, and otherworldliness are things Ford wants him to embrace fully, because if Hal can grow into himself without shame, it validates Ford’s own lifelong struggle for acceptance. But it’s also not just pride. Ford knows better than anyone the cruelty of rejection, how peers can vilify you for something you never chose and he fears how the world will treat Hal, who is so much further from human than he ever was, and far more gentle. Ford is torn: he doesn’t want Hal crushed by the same bitterness that marked his own life but he also wants him to live somewhere he doesn’t have to hide. That’s why Ford pushes for raising Hal off Earth, somewhere he might “fit” better (especially since Ford himself never felt like he belonged anywhere) while Bill fights him on it.

For BILL, it’s projection of a very different kind: not pride, but guilt. He knows first-hand how dangerous power and desire can be when they’re left unchecked, how easy it is to slip from “curiosity” to “destruction,” even without malice… He sees too much of himself in Hal for comfort. Bill’s way of parenting is steeped in denial and mockery, but when it comes to Hal’s powers he’s surprisingly firm: don’t be reckless. Be careful. Where Ford pushes Hal to embrace himself, Bill wants him to restrain himself instead. His caution about Hal’s powers come from his own buried, unresolved trauma from accidentally destroying Euclydia as a child, a wound that clearly never healed, no matter how much bravado he puts on (as evidenced by the fact he called himself a “monster” when alluding to his past with Ford). Even with the best intentions, Bill knows how dangerously easy it is to misuse power: for him, urging Hal to restrain himself is a twisted kind of protection, a way of trying to keep Hal from repeating his original sin. And while Ford wants Hal raised away from Earth, Bill ironically clings to Earth as “home.” It’s the place he spent centuries (I think?) yearning to reach, the place where he met Ford, the one anchor that still feels real to him. For Ford, Earth is family but never comfort, but to Bill, Earth is “home”; not because it’s safe, but because it’s where everything that mattered to him happened. Keeping Hal tethered there is Bill’s way of anchoring himself too, because if Hal belongs, maybe Bill can pretend he does as well. He’ll still deny caring, but his harsh “lessons” are his way of trying to shield Hal from himself and from making the same mistakes Bill himself did.

So while Ford pushes Hal toward full self-expression and away from Earth, Bill pushes him toward caution and insists on staying there. Both are trying to “protect” him in their own ways but, in reality, both are reliving their own wounds through him… :( Save this child pls