Chapter Text
This had to be by far the most boring event Clark ever had the misfortune of covering for the Daily Planet. It seemed that every person in attendance gave him the same old rehearsed lines about the 'greater good' and 'giving back to the community' when it was abundantly clear they didn't even know what these words meant, let alone the sentiment behind them. It wasn't even what Clark was asking them about. He was here to figure whether the rumors of Lex Luthor wanting to expand into Gotham were true. Because that would be a concerning development and something Superman definitely needed to keep tabs on. They just heard he was with the press and wanted him to make them look good. It was exhausting.
"Got anything for your piece, Smallville?", Lois asked, coming to stand beside him. She took a sip of champagne and let her eyes wander the room. Her floor-length midnight blue dress glittered in the ambient lighting, making her look almost ethereal.
Clark sighed. "Nope. They all want to be interviewed, but no one really wants to talk. I'm not even sure I can get the quotes straight anymore and honestly, even if I did mess them up? I doubt anyone would notice. All they do is congratulate themselves on attending the event and the donations they've made here tonight. 'Shop talk' as Mister Monroe called it, is apparently off the table for tonight. And please don't say I told you–"
"I told you so."
Dragging a hand down his face, Clark shook his head, biting back a smile. "You have no mercy, Lo. None. I think I'm speaking for all of us when I say I'm glad you're on our side."
Lois laughed. "What is that even supposed to mean?"
Clark grinned at her, the tension in his shoulders already loosening a bit now that he could vent a little to his best friend. "Just thinking that all of humanity is really glad you're one of the good guys. You'd make a terrifying villain."
Lois snorted. "We'll, you'd know about that, wouldn't you? I'm sure you'll get your quote, Clark. Just give it time until they're a little more drunk."
Clark frowned, staring down at his notepad full of nonsense. "That doesn't seem very ethical."
"Oh Smallville", said Lois, fondly patting his shoulder. "These aren't very ethical people. You're not making them drink or forcing them to talk. They're only waiting for a chance to brag about the horrible shit they get up to. We're just making sure they're not getting away with it."
"Well, when you put it that way…"
Another pat on his shoulder, firmer this time. If Clark could bruise this might have done it. "That's the spirit! Now go talk to some more rich assholes. Oh! Speaking of which. Look who just showed up. I didn't know Bruce Wayne was supposed to make an appearance."
Clark followed Lois' gaze to a small commotion at the entrance of the ballroom and his eyes landed on what had to be the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. With his longish dark hair, chiseled features so perfect he looked like a greek god, big soulful eyes and a body that was perfectly accentuated by a suit that was probably more expensive than a year's worth of Clark's rent.
Clark swallowed. He'd seen pictures of Bruce Wayne before - of course he had; he worked for a newspaper - and he'd always thought the guy was handsome, but seeing him in person was somehow a whole other experience. Oh God. Clark needed to get some air before he did something unforgivably embarrassing and went over there.
Just as he was about to tell Lois he was stepping out, though, Wayne turned around and suddenly their eyes met across the room. Clark sucked in a sharp breath at the intensity of that gaze, unable to look away. Wayne's eyes were captivating. Their blue depths, so dark a color it almost looked black in the warm glow of the ballroom, were keeping Clark trapped.
As if he'd heard his thoughts (or as if he could read them on his face), Wayne smirked. Never taking his eyes off Clark, he murmured something to the throng of admirers vying for his attention and then… and then he was heading over, coming straight for Clark. Who felt like the proverbial deer in headlights.
"Looks like someone's caught the playboy's eye, Smallville", murmured Lois, laughter in her voice. She nudged him with an elbow before she made herself scarce. “Give him hell!”, she called and then she abandoned Clark to his fate. Maybe she was more of a villain than he previously thought.
"Lois!", he hissed at her retreating back, slightly panicked. "Lois get back here!"
A loud cackle was his only answer. Clark cursed under his breath but when he looked up again, Wayne was suddenly standing right in front of him, that damned smirk still on his face. He had dimples, Clark thought in despair. Why did he have to have dimples? That just wasn’t fighting fair.
"Your date giving you trouble, Mister…?", asked Wayne, nodding in the direction Lois just disappeared.
"It’s Kent, uh. Clark Kent, Daily Planet and Lois, she's… she's not my date, Mister Wayne. We're colleagues and friends, but that's it and. And that’s way more than you asked for, sorry. You uhm, you startled me a little."
Jesus, that was bad. Clark prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Yes, the bumbling country boy was his cover, but this was just ridiculous.
Wayne’s smirk widened into a smile, eyes sparkling, and Clark's stomach swooped. Fuck fuck fuck fuck … "A reporter, huh? Well then your surprise is understandable, Mister Kent. I'm not usually in the habit of approaching your people. Then again, if more of your colleagues looked like you, I might make it my habit."
To his embarrassment Clark blushed up to the roots of his hair and quickly ducked his head to hide it. Oh God. It wasn’t that people didn't flirt with him - they did - but none of those people were Bruce Wayne, devastatingly handsome bachelor, notorious playboy and the so-called Prince of Gotham. It was a little overwhelming. But he was here to do a job and what kind of reporter would he be if he let a chance like this pass him by? He couldn’t let himself get distracted by Wayne’s charm and his good looks.
So Clark cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders and met Bruce Wayne's gaze, ignoring the tingly feeling in his chest. "As long as I have you here, Mister Wayne, may I ask: What are your thoughts on the rumors about LexCorp expanding its business into Gotham? Has Lex Luthor talked to you about that? After all he has alluded to the two of you being on friendly terms in the past."
Wayne snorted into his champagne, that damned sparkle in his eyes and Clark had no excuse for the way his heart skipped a beat. Especially since he had the distinct impression he was being made fun of. "Please. Lexy and I are polite rivals at best and only because, control freak that he is, he won't accept how little I'm actually involved in the business side of things and insists on trying to best me. Between me and you, Clark - it's okay if I call you Clark, right? - I'm just the pretty face my company's PR team likes to show off at events like this. You should really ask them for a statement."
Clark narrowed his eyes, studying Wayne’s expression. For all the world the man looked like a pretty ditz, but something about that didn’t feel quite right. His eyes, Clark realized a second later, his eyes were way too sharp. Besides, he had done some digging on Wayne in the past: "So founding an organization that provides housing and education for homeless youth in the Gotham-Metropolis area wasn't your idea? You weren't involved in the project to provide sustainable energy sources for all city buildings at all? And I’m sure your employees’ higher than average pay, including health benefits, a dental plan and christmas bonuses wasn’t your idea either? I'm sorry, Mister Wayne, but I've heard differently."
Something in Wayne's expression changed, a subtle shift Clark only caught because of his enhanced senses. Like everything else about Wayne it was intriguing and made Clark want to know more about him. "I only sign where they tell me to, Clark. It's really not more complicated than that. Sorry to disappoint", said Wayne, shrugging an elegant shoulder, not sounding sorry at all. It was Clark's turn to snort. "I really don't believe you, Mister Wayne."
"It's Bruce, please. And I'll have to take convincing you as a challenge then, Clark. There’s really nothing more to it. I’m afraid I can't let you leave tonight without correcting the impression you have of me. I detest being called a responsible adult, you see." Wayne's smile turned predatory and he let a hand brush over the lapels of Clark's suit like he wanted to straighten them for him, but his fingers lingered, played with the cheap fabric and brushed Clark's chest in the process. Clark shivered at the touch, hyper-aware of the other man’s proximity, his scent… Clark’s mouth ran dry and suddenly wasn’t so sure he’d survive this evening with even a shred of dignity still intact.
“T-that won’t be necessary, Mister Wayne. I didn’t mean–”, stammered Clark, eager to get away and escape Bruce Wayne’s attention. Wayne’s smile widened at the stammered reply and he gave Clark a slow once-over, clearly enjoying the effect he was having. “Oh I know”, he said, licking his lips and stepping closer. “But I really want to buy you a drink, Clark. And I have to insist you call me Bruce.”
“It’s an open bar,” blurted Clark, avoiding Bruce’s big blue eyes and the playful gleam in them, sidestepping the demand for more intimacy, even if it was only the use of a first name. He was already tempted enough, way more than he should be, to kiss his journalistic integrity goodbye and drag Bruce– Mister Wayne – into the nearest restroom for some decidedly unethical behavior.
“Who said we’d be having that drink here?”, purred Bruce, taking another step closer. He was now so close that Clark could feel the heat radiating off of him. Jesus fuck. On anyone else this whole maneuver would’ve been sleazy as hell. But not on Bruce. Clark didn’t know what it was about the other man that captivated him like this, but he did know that his voice was a big part of it. Clark’s always been sensitive to sound. Good and bad.
God, why did Wayne’s voice have to be so damned attractive? That deep, smooth baritone of his curled itself into Clark’s ear like a seductive melody, a balm to his enhanced senses after a day full of incessant noise. It made Clark want to ignore the world and focus on nothing else. His stomach tightened. To hear that voice whisper in his ear and feel hot breath ghosting over his skin…, he thought helplessly, and heat rose to his face. He needed to get away before he embarrassed himself further. “I’m– I’m still working, Mister Wayne. I can’t, uhm. I can’t just leave with you. I’m sorry.”
Bruce pouted and even that was somehow attractive. It had no right to be. Bruce Wayne was a forty-two-year-old man. It should look ridiculous. Clark shifted nervously on his feet. "What a shame. But I know when I'm beat, Clark, don’t worry. Maybe I'll see you around", said Bruce, the slightest hint of wistfulness in his voice. He didn’t wait for a reply. Instead he stroked his hand down Clark's chest one last time, catching his eye, before he flitted off to a group of socialites Clark didn't recognize. Clark stared after him, heart pounding with a frantic beat of what the fuck just happened ! The entire interaction seemed so surreal. And he just couldn’t get Bruce’s voice out of his head. Especially because, thanks to his enhanced hearing, it kept reaching his ear, destroying all the progress he made in calming himself down.
Lois found him a few minutes later, still staring at Bruce's back across the room. She waved a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Clark", she said, amused. Clark flushed and finally tore his eyes away from Wayne. He was met by Lois' knowing look and a shit-eating grin. "See anything interesting, Smallville? A certain Gothamite perhaps?"
Clark flushed an even darker shade of red and before he could control himself, he blurted out, "He flirted with me, Lo."
Lois rolled her eyes. "Of course he did, Clark. Everyone saw. That man doesn't have a subtle bone in his body. The question is why you're still standing around here, making heart-eyes, when you could be halfway to becoming another notch on Mister Sexiest Man Alive's bedpost."
"Lois!"
"Don't act all coy. You do so want a piece of that."
He did. He so did. God help him. But… "I'm working! I can't just go gallivanting off with Bruce Wayne! What would Perry think?"
Lois nearly choked on her champagne. "Gallivanting?", she sputtered. "What are you, a housewife from the eighteen hundreds? Honestly, Clark, update your vocabulary. Besides, you have everything you need for your article. You decided to keep working tonight. So you can just decide to stop."
Clark bit his lip. "Well, that’s true… but it still wouldn’t be right, Lo. I write about him."
"Come on, you know you want to and some harmless fun would be good for you, Clark. You know I'm right.”
Unsure, Clark let his eyes wander over to Bruce once more. The enticing line of his throat, those broad shoulders, the slim waist… God help him, but Clark really wanted to sleep with Bruce Wayne.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Lois’ grinned. “Go get'em, tiger."
Clark groaned. His hands were sweating and his heart was beating way too fast, but underneath all that he was undeniably excited. Oh God. He was really considering this, wasn’t he?
Just then Wayne threw his head back and laughed, further exposing the column of his throat and Clark found himself transfixed. He just couldn't look away.
So yeah he was actually doing this.
Fuck.
Bruce hated these charity events. Everyone here was just so full of themselves and so ready to jump on even the tiniest bit of flattery. Most of them had no concept of what they were actually here to support and they didn't care either. It was frustrating, really.
But sometimes... Sometimes these events weren't so bad.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Clark talking to his friend in the skin-tight blue dress and suppressed a sigh. His fingertips were still tingling from the sense memory of touching Clark's strong chest, the firm muscles hidden beneath that horrible suit. Bruce really wanted to see what else Clark was hiding under there. Heat trickled down Bruce's spine as he remembered the smell of Clark's cologne and the attractive flush to his tan skin.
It was such a shame he had a work ethic. Bruce sighed and turned back to the assortment of business heirs and heiresses in front of him. He had no idea what they were talking about. He’d tuned out of the conversation several minutes ago. Mostly because he just couldn't get Clark and the unexpected shock of lust he inspired out of his mind. In Bruce’s defense, it had been way too long since he had the time and inclination to sleep with someone and Clark was unfairly attractive. Maybe Bruce should just pick someone else up tonight, to take the edge off, get it out of his system.
"Mister Wayne?"
Bruce whirled around and came face to face with Clark's sky blue eyes and crooked smile and his stomach swooped, the sudden need to kiss those plump lips momentarily shorting out his higher brain function. He barely managed to restrain himself.
"Does that offer of a drink still stand?" Clark sounded so adorably nervous and the shy way he was fidgeting with his hands… God, Bruce wanted to eat him alive.
He licked his lips and gave Clark a slow, deliberate once-over, loving the way his fidgeting increased. "For you, big guy?", he finally purred and abandoned the group behind him in favor of invading Clark’s personal space. “Always.”
Clark swallowed audibly, throat bobbing, a rosy flush blooming on his cheeks. The heirs and heiresses behind Bruce giggled and whispered. The blush on Clark's cheeks deepened as he stared at his scuffed shoes. Bruce's stomach flipped. He didn't know what it was about him, but he wanted to absolutely ruin this shy reporter.
"Come on, big guy." Bruce looped his arm around Clark's, enjoying the feel of solid muscle under his fingertips, and led him away from the crowd. "Did you really want that drink? Because if I'm being honest I could use some fresh air instead. And a little privacy."
Clark ducked his head, smiling. "Fresh air sounds good… Bruce."
And it was good. Better than expected even. Once Clark relaxed a little he turned out to be excellent company. He was witty and funny and smart and passionate about his work. He loved his family and his friends and had a strong sense of justice. Bruce found himself ensnared. He’d brought them out here so they could make out in peace, a little prelude to the finale in his hotel room later in the evening, but it turned out he really enjoyed talking to Clark.
They gravitated closer and closer towards each other over the course of the conversation until there was barely any space left between them. They kept touching, totally innocuous except in all of the ways it wasn't. Bruce's skin tingled and sparked at even the smallest contact and the simmer of heat in his belly grew steadily hotter until his whole body was burning with it. He was sure Clark felt it too. Their hands kept brushing, breaths mingling in the air between them and the shy secret smiles they shared boded exceptionally well for the rest of the night. Bruce hadn’t felt arousal this potent in a very long while and it kept building. It was exhilarating and he couldn’t wait to finally get Clark naked.
Until…
Until Clark suddenly straightened up, gaze intense and focused somewhere in the distance. He looked like he was miles away all of a sudden. Bruce frowned. "Clark?", he asked, a strange feeling in the back of his chest. "Is everything alright?"
Clark seemed distracted. He wasn’t looking at Bruce even as he answered. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but I have to go. I had a great time, really, but I have to– I need to leave. It’s important. I'm sorry."
Just like that Clark was gone. He practically ran back into the ballroom, leaving Bruce alone on the balcony. Alone and bewildered and feeling inexplicably cold. What the hell just happened? Clark had gone from undeniably interested to distant in under two seconds flat. Bruce mentally retraced his steps, let the past few minutes replay in his mind, trying to figure out what could have caused this shift in behavior. He came up empty. He didn't know what went wrong.
Sighing, Bruce rested his elbows on the stone balustrade and stared out at the city below. The evening suddenly didn’t seem so promising anymore. He tapped the earpiece he always wore. "I've had enough socializing for the day, Alfred. I think it's time to head out." Just as Bruce said that, however, a huge red circle appeared over Gotham, splitting the sky like a fiery maw, ready to swallow the city whole, and a moment later a dozen or so alien ships descended from its depth. Bruce immediately sprang into action, all thoughts of Clark forgotten for now as he made his way to his nearest safehouse to get his gear.
That was the night that Batman first met Superman and the night Bruce Wayne first met Clark Kent and while those two meetings couldn't have gone any more differently they were essential for what came next. Even if they made things that much more complicated.