Music of the Spheres 7: Flirtations
Pairing: Clark/Bruce
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Notes: "Music of the Spheres" is a series set in the combined universes of "Batman Begins" and "Superman Returns." Other stories and notes on the series here.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A day in Metropolis, with a variety of meetings and conversations, both civilian and caped. Oh, and a date.
Word Count: 6145
Clark Kent was catching up on a backload of paperwork from the week he had spent in Gotham. He stared disbelievingly at the pile of forms he had to fill out to get reimbursed for his nights at that fleabag hotel. In triplicate. He sighed and pushed his glasses up on his nose again.
On the plus side, he had gotten an email last night from Bruce Wayne saying he'd be in town today and maybe they could get together? He had told Bruce to meet him here at the Planet at noon. If he got this paperwork done by then, maybe he could have lunch with Bruce.
He grinned and reached for the next form.
Clark knew perfectly well that Bruce was just jerking his chain with that whole "dating" rigamorole, but he didn't really mind as long as it was Bruce Wayne that was kidding him about it. After all, that was what human males did with their friends, right? Tease them about their putative sexual orientation? Clark was rusty about a lot of male friendship rituals, but he was fairly certain he remembered that one correctly. So if Bruce making jokes about dating him was the price he paid for Bruce's friendship--the word warmed him just thinking it--he would grin and bear it. Hell, he'd relish it.
A friend.
It was nearly noon when the little device Batman had given him buzzed almost silently in his breast pocket. Clark went into the bathroom and made sure it was empty before pulling out the tiny black gadget. "Yes?"
"I've got some information you ought to know," rasped the Dark Knight's voice.
"Good morning to you too." It was very strange to be talking like Superman while not in costume. Clark had to stand up straight to get the chest room to make his voice as resonant as it needed to be, which felt very unnatural in his street clothes. "I was actually just about to call you. Is there a chance you can come down to Metropolis soon?"
A pause. "It's a bit of a trip for me, Kal. Is there some reason you need me there?"
"There's something I need to physically check out, and I'd like you there with me. Our mutual friend."
"You know, I do have a daytime life in Gotham, I can't flit from city to city like you do, free of a secret identity to tie you down."
Clark Kent, standing in a dingy bathroom stall, rolled his eyes at the peeling paint on the ceiling. "Are you going to whine or are you going to come down to Metropolis?"
An annoyed grunt. "I can probably be there by this evening. Will midnight do? The top of the Daily Planet?"
"The Daily Planet?"
"It's the most obvious landmark in Metropolis."
"Point taken. Tonight, then."
A slightly more affirmative grunt and the connection was broken without a further word. Clark glared at the silent communicator for a moment, then tapped it again.
"What?"
"You seem a bit out of sorts," Superman said sweetly. "You're not upset that I found the little tracking device in this thing and disabled it, are you?"
A cut-off snarl was his only answer. Clark grinned and felt somewhat better as he made his way back to his desk. He had hardly taken his seat when he spotted Bruce Wayne's lean, elegant figure entering the office. His heart leapt, and he tamped it down as ruthlessly as he could.
Stupid heart. Sometimes it didn't seem to know it wasn't human.
Bruce Wayne entered the Daily Planet offices, scanning the room for Clark's familiar form. Clark had already seen him; when he caught Bruce's eye he raised a hand to beckon him over. The reporter was in full dork mode--his hair was rumpled, his glasses smudged, his posture slumped and graceless. Bruce had a moment's surreally sharp vision--Clark's gold-dusted face lifted in ecstacy, the sculpted body under that ill-fitting suit--and nearly stumbled as the office swam around him. Clark was like the most wonderful Christmas present ever, wrapped up in ugly brown paper, shining and glittering inside, and waiting for Bruce to unwrap him. It. Another delightful secret Bruce Wayne intended to keep entirely to himself.
He made his way over to Clark's desk, pulled up a chair to sit down next to him. "I don't know how you can work here," he said, indicating the chaotic office. "It's a zoo." The editor-in-chief was yelling at someone in his office, and three different televisions were playing three different stations.
Clark shrugged. "You learn to tune it out. I hope the traffic wasn't too bad on the way down?"
Before Bruce could answer, a child's voice cut across the noise of the office: "Clark, Clark!" A boy, about five years old, was running in between the desks with the ease of long familiarity, stopping at Clark's. "We got out of school early today," he said, looking expectantly at Clark.
Clark grinned and tapped the boy on the nose with a finger. "Ask politely, Jason."
Jason rolled his eyes, smiling. "May I please play with your action figures, Clark?"
Clark opened up a desk drawer, revealing a jumble of jointed plastic figures. There was one with claws and one big one with green skin, but Bruce groaned inwardly as the kid went right for the one in black. Shadowy vigilantes could seldom retain control of their image.
"Jason, this is Bruce Wayne. Bruce, this is Jason Lane. He's the son of one of my co-workers." Jason made a non-committal greeting noise, focused on getting the Batman figure's limbs posed the way he wanted. Once he was satisfied, he started to run about the office with the figure held in a flying position, its arms outstretched and cape flapping. He halted in front of Bruce and grinned impishly.
Bruce couldn't help himself. "Batman doesn't fly," he said quellingly. "That's Superman's job."
Jason scoffed. "Clark won't buy a Superman figure, he says they look dumb."
"No dumber than that Batman does." That didn't look anything like his chin. He should feel glad, but instead he felt annoyed that some Taiwanese toy company had given Batman a weak chin. That Clark had a Batman doll--action figure--with a weak chin.
He was pathetic.
The boy shrugged. "Batman's kind of lame anyway. Superman's the coolest."
"Jason," said Clark, "It's not nice to call people lame. And Batman's not lame at all."
"He's just some guy in a mask, there's nothing special about him."
Clark plucked the black-clad action figure from Jason's hands. "And that is why he's cooler than Superman. He risks his life every day without any powers at all. Which is totally awesome." He held the Batman figure in front of the boy, pointing at him with one accusatory gauntlet. "Apologize to Batman, Jason."
Jason rolled his eyes again, but when Clark showed no sign of relinquishing the toy, he said laughingly, "I'm sorry, Batman. I was wrong, you totally rock." Clark handed over the figure. Jason took it and grinned at Clark, shaking his head. "You are such a dork, Clark." The child's voice was full of the affectionate condescension kids have toward the odder adults in their lives.
"Jason! Stop bothering Clark," came a woman's voice from the door of the editor's office. She smiled at Clark apologetically.
"It's no bother at all, Lois," said Clark hastily.
Lois came over and ruffled the boy's unruly hair, smiling at Bruce. "Clark has let himself be turned into our ad hoc workplace daycare provider. He always keeps Jason entertained when he's around." The boy now had Batman easily beating the Hulk in hand-to-hand combat, a result Bruce found improbable but satisfying.
Clark shrugged again, watching the battle and grinning. "It's really my pleasure."
"We're off to lunch. Jason, give Clark his dolls back."
"Mom, they're action figures," complained the child, as he reluctantly handed back the toys.
"Right, right," said Lois tolerantly, rolling her eyes as she ushered the child out.
"Get a Superman one, Clark!" Jason called back over his shoulder at the door.
Bruce watched Lois and her child disappear through the door and raised an eyebrow at Clark. "Lois Lane, the Pulitzer Prize-winner, is your child-endangering co-worker?"
Clark bristled. "Lois and Richard are wonderful parents and they love Jason with all their hearts. He's a very lucky boy."
Bruce shrugged and changed the subject. "I have time for lunch before I have to go meet Luthor, and we still haven't set a time for our date tonight."
Clark grinned to himself at the "date" but decided not to rise to the bait this time. "I thought we'd get some subs and eat in the park. It's a nice day."
Their sandwiches purchased, Clark found them a bench in the park and they sat, eating companionably and eyeing the city around them. Clark sighed.
"You know, I really can't show you Metropolis with the same sort of intensity you showed me Gotham. It's not where I grew up, and I've only lived here for a few months altogether. I'm still practically a stranger here." He chewed a bite of sandwich thoughtfully, looking rather sad.
"When I was about ten, my parents brought me here on vacation. I remember how overwhelming it all was, all the people and the traffic. It felt like being in the heart of the world, listening to it beat. I knew I wanted to live here when I grew up. But Metropolis isn't like Gotham. What you see is pretty much what you get."
"Like Superman," said Bruce.
"Is Superman that simple to you?" Clark was honestly curious. He didn't feel simple.
His companion waved his sub vaguely. "Like you said, what you see is what you get. He's a big, good-hearted alien. The parts of him we can't understand I figure we'll never understand, and the parts of him we do are pretty uncomplicated."
Well, at least he'd gotten a "good-hearted" out of him. "You make him sound shallow."
"Not shallow, just...uninteresting." Bruce's voice was dismissive, and Clark was suddenly angry. He knew he didn't have any right to be--hadn't he deliberately kept "Clark Kent" a secret so that no one would know he had a human side? Hadn't he done it in part to see how ordinary humans felt about the world, and about him?
But this wasn't "an ordinary human." This was Bruce Wayne, and his contempt stung a surprising amount.
"What have you got against Superman, anyway? What'd he ever do to you, huh, that you'd spend your time and money looking for a way to keep him in check?"
Bruce flared up in answer to the challenge in Clark's tone. "What'd he do to me? I learned early, Clark, that evil is strong and powerful and most humans are powerless. Then when I'm about to graduate from college, here comes this alien who has what most of us don't have--power. The power to really change things, the power to bring hope against the darkness. And what does he do with that power? He leaves. He left us alone in the dark again. And the week after he left, I found out my parents' killer was going to walk free."
He was glaring at Clark now but didn't seem to see him. "You know what I did? I decided that the only power we petty humans had was the power to take life, to destroy and hurt. So I got a gun and I went to kill my parents' murderer." He gave Clark a look that was part defiance and part misery.
"But...but you didn't do that. You changed your mind."
"I didn't do it because someone else did it first, that's all. No nobility on my part." Bruce crumpled up the paper bag the sandwich had been in and tossed it angrily at a wastebasket. "You know how in the Pandora story, Hope is the last thing out of the box? Some people say that's because Hope was the last mitigating gift, but that day I knew better. I knew Hope was the last and cruelest curse of the gods to humanity."
His voice was full of echoes of bitterness and pain, and Clark found himself nearly speechless in response. He struggled for words. "You told me back in Gotham that it was a great city because it had hope. You--somewhere, you found hope again, you learned to trust it again."
Bruce sighed. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't." He stood up abruptly, his face shuttered. "I have to go meet up with Luthor." He turned and started to walk away.
Clark stood up as well. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't apologize on Superman's behalf. The enormity of his decision to leave Earth stunned him once again. The effects had spread like ripples he had never considered, breaking on the shores of a younger version of Bruce Wayne, tormented by hope.
He ran a few steps after Bruce, then called after him. "Hey!" The other man stopped, turned halfway around. Clark realized he had no idea what to say. "What about our date? We haven't set a time and place to meet later."
"How about we meet at seven-thirty, right here?" Bruce smiled, a beautiful, rueful smile. Then he walked back to where Clark was standing, reached out and brushed a thumb along one of Clark's cheekbones. "See what I mean? Hope."
Clark stood there like an idiot and watched Bruce leave the park, that light touch still burning along his cheek.
: : :
Few men could successfully pull off wearing a purple suit, Bruce Wayne reflected. Lex Luthor was not one of those men.
"Brucie!" exclaimed Luthor, managing to pump his hand vigorously, pound him on the back, and ruffle his hair almost immediately. A new record. "I'm so glad you're safe and sound and back here in my city."
Bruce smiled and bobbed his head. His city. In his dreams. "Gosh, Mr. Luthor, I'm glad to be back too. I've been so nervous up in Gotham."
"We'll figure out who did that to your offices, m'boy. And then, you and me, we'll crush 'em." Luthor made an enthusiastic crushing motion with one hand.
"Speaking of crushing, how goes the work on the rig?"
Luthor's expression fell. "Oh, we've found all kinds of valuable crap, just not what we're looking for."
"Actually, you still haven't told me what exactly we're looking for."
"I told you--the green mineral that hurts Superman," Luthor explained as if to a small child. Bruce hadn't been expecting a discussion of the chemical composition and refractive properties of the crystal, but he would have liked something a little more specific than that. But Luthor was continuing, one arm still slung over Bruce's shoulders, "I thought I'd show you the rig today." He guided Bruce to an elevator which let them out on the roof next to a helicopter.
"Wow, that's fantastic, Mr. Luthor!" This time Bruce's enthusiasm was at least partly sincere. He had wanted to get a look at that rig close-up for a long time.
A few hours later, Bruce had gotten a good feel for the layout of the mining rig. That might be useful later. He hadn't seen anything that looked suspicious...beyond Luthor's suspicious pride in the fact that he had such very large and powerful drills at his command.
Luthor leaned against a railing, gazing out at "his city." Bruce stood next to him. He wished Clark were there. Clark would shoot Bruce a sideways look full of laughter, and Lex would seem ridiculous and small, just a silly little man.
"This is all great, Mr. Luthor...but if whatever we're looking for is dangerous to Superman, why has he let us continue looking? He could sink this whole thing easily."
Luthor clapped his hands together in delight and self-congratulation. "The first thing you need to know about Superman, young man, is that he has an aversion to taking life and destroying things. He doesn't want to risk any of the workers getting hurt, and he doesn't want to be seen as high-handedly destroying private property. It's all P.R., Bruce, all P.R.."
Lex gripped the railing with both hands and rocked backward a bit. "And besides, I have an ace in the hole. A small ace, but one that will probably make a difference." Lex smiled at Bruce. The October wind across the bay was balmy compared to that smile. Bruce hid his disquiet and smiled back.
He wished Clark were there.
: : :
Bruce looked out his hotel window. There was still some time before he was supposed to meet Clark. He felt restless and on edge. He shouldn't have snapped at Clark earlier. It wasn't his fault. Bruce had forgotten how much Clark had invested in Superman. He thought of those big blue eyes behind the glasses, wide with shock and something like hurt. Damnit.
He couldn't just sit around his hotel room, mooning on about Clark. He was already far too tightly wound about this date tonight. If he sat here thinking about it all afternoon he'd be in such a state he'd make a total fool of himself. Just thinking about it now brought back the memory of what it had felt like to hear Clark say his name, the desire that had torn through him like lightning. He shivered, realizing he had fallen into a reverie about how Clark would feel and sound and taste in person, not on a computer screen.
This was a waste of energy.
He opened his suitcase and pulled out a suit--lighter than usual for travel. It wouldn't hurt to do some scouting, get a better feel for the city.
Batman slipped out of the hotel room window and into the sunset shadows starting to fall across Metropolis.
He had meant to stick to quiet reconnaissance, but to his annoyance the convenience store he was scouting from the roof of was being robbed. Batman could hear voices raised in panic nearby. He wasn't sure where Superman was, but he wasn't going to let someone get hurt just because of some territoriality issue.
The thugs in the store were understandably startled to find themselves being kicked senseless by heavy black boots rather than tied up politely at super-speed. The owners of the store were nearly as alarmed as the criminals, all things considered. Batman righted an overturned display--Kal probably didn't cause quite so much property damage in his crimefighting--and beat a hasty retreat.
He had barely made it to the top of another building before Superman was there. It had been too much to hope he wouldn't have overheard the commotion. "Thank you."
"Apparently even you can't be in two places at once."
A slight smile. "I'm working on it, but so far, no luck." Kal descended to the roof, his cape flowing around him, grace incarnate. "You said you had information for me? You might as well tell me now, we'll be busy when we meet again at midnight."
Batman backed a little further into the mercifully lengthening shadows. "You may have heard that a Gotham-based villain who calls himself Mr. Freeze broke into the Gotham Art Museum last week?"
"I had heard of it, yes."
"He stole only one thing--a book of old fairy tales, bound in red leather. And he sold it to Intergang this week for a truly impressive sum."
Kal frowned. "Thank you for passing that on."
"Maybe they're planning to read you bedtime stories until you fall asleep?"
There was no answering smile on the alien's face. "Those old tales aren't always good ones to sleep on."
Batman shrugged. "Maybe they'll just hit you over the head with it." A thought occurred to him; he paused and added, "Also, word on the street has it that Lex Luthor believes he has an ace in the hole against you. A small ace in the hole, he was heard saying."
Superman's face went stiller than ever, completely closed and alien. He turned away and looked out at the city silently. His feet had left the roof again slightly and he hovered, his cape trembling in the slight wind, his back to the other man.
Batman stepped out for the shadows and moved closer. "Kal?" No response. "Kal. What did he mean?"
Superman tilted his head back, looking at the sky. "I can deal with it." He turned to face Batman again. "Thank you for passing that on, Batman." He stumbled on the title a bit and smiled, somewhat wistfully.
"It doesn't seem fair that you can call me by my real name and I have to call you 'Batman.' I'm not asking for your real name," he said hastily as Batman's jaw tightened, "It would just be nice to have something a little less formal to call you by. I don't think you'd like being called 'Batsy.'"
Batman shrugged uncomfortably. "I suppose you could call me B."
"B? Just the letter B?"
"Would you rather call me Irving? B will do."
"Terse and unrevealing. It suits you."
Into the pause in the conversation, a church clock struck seven.
Superman startled into the air like a bird at the sound. "Um, I really have to go," he said a little breathlessly, glancing back at the clock tower in disbelief. "I'm sorry, B, but--"
He turned back to find that Batman had already vanished into the shadows, gone before the clock had finished striking. Superman sighed in relief. He had to hurry and get changed to meet up with Bruce.
: : :
Clark had been waiting on the park bench where they had eaten lunch for about ten minutes before Bruce arrived, walking just a little bit fast. "You're late," Clark pointed out mildly.
"Am I?" Bruce looked down at his hand, grinned sheepishly and showed Clark the bare wrist. "Sorry, forgot my watch." He sat down on the bench next to Clark. "So, where to?"
"I thought we might go to this Italian place I know. Great alfredo. And within walking distance."
"Lead on, MacDuff," Bruce bowed with a flourish.
Bruce seemed to like the restaurant--it wasn't anywhere near as fancy as the French place he had taken Clark in Gotham, but it had a nice candlelit ambiance and the owner knew Clark, so they were given a good table.
Clark was trying to talk about the investigation into the bombing, but Bruce didn't seem interested in that right now. Instead he was asking questions about Clark's work, his history, his likes and dislikes, all the while looking at Clark with such a dead-on parody of romantic interest that Clark almost laughed. It would have been uncomfortable except that conversations with Bruce were never really uncomfortable, and Clark found himself unwinding and talking about Smallville, about his childhood there and his father's death, his job at the Planet and its small frustrations. Bruce shared a few stories, mostly about Alfred, but mainly he just listened raptly. It was as if he found Clark's life interesting. Considering the life Bruce had led, this seemed unlikely to Clark, but it was gratifying nonetheless.
Bruce reached out and ran a finger along the back of Clark's hand as Clark finished some story about wanting to be on the football team. Clark tried to keep his face steady as his senses ran riot. It didn't mean anything, Bruce was just pretending to flirt with him...but this made it the fifth time the playboy had found some excuse to touch him and it was playing havoc with his composure. He'd be angry at his friend for toying with his affections, but since Bruce didn't know he had affections to toy with, that would be unfair.
Though "affections" seemed rather a mild word for what right now felt more like "ravening hungers threatening to prompt him to lunge over the dinner table and attempt to ravish his only friend on the spot."
Control, Clark, control. It's all part of the playboy reputation, it doesn't mean anyth-- A shoeless foot slid up the inside of his calf toward his knee, and Clark almost choked on his wine. Bruce grinned at him from across the table.
Clark decided he was willing to be toyed with; he was, at the very least, getting enough material for masturbatory fantasies to last for the next decade.
He just hoped Bruce wouldn't go so far with the charade as to kiss him at the door, because he really wasn't sure he had the self-control to deal with that.
: : :
Bruce hoped he wasn't going overboard here, but he was having a hard time keeping his hands--and feet--off of Clark. He suspected that if he didn't watch out he'd end up in Clark's lap by dessert.
He could think of worse desserts.
Clark seemed shy and awkward but not uninterested in Bruce's flirtation. Bruce knew Clark was interested, he had seen and heard it himself--don't think about it or you'll be under the table and having him for dessert--it was just a matter of approaching it the right way. Gently, don't frighten him off. Bruce tried to look unthreateningly predatory. He wasn't sure it was working.
He walked back to Clark's apartment with him, talking, comparing movies and music, the usual things one did on a first date.
At the door, Clark paused and looked at Bruce, uncertain. The mute, almost-hidden inquiry in his eyes dragged Bruce to him like a magnet, completely unable to keep himself from kissing him as he'd wanted to for longer than he liked to admit.
Bruce felt the curve of Clark's upper lip against his mouth, the way the lower lip opened just enough to deepen the kiss.
He felt Clark's breath filling his mouth, warm and full.
He felt the neat and orderly chessboard of his life tilt crazily sideways, the black and white pieces tumbling out of control, and he put his hands on Clark's shoulders and held on for dear life.
Slowly he became aware that Clark hadn't put his arms around him in return. He opened his eyes to find Clark's startling blue eyes looking into his. As Bruce moved back, Clark took a deep breath, then smiled, a friendly smile.
"Really, Bruce, that's not necessary. I understand you want to keep that playboy reputation going, and I understand that you want to shock staid old Metropolis by flirting openly with a man, and I even understand that for some reason you've decided to flirt with me instead of some more suitable partner--" he held up a hand as Bruce started to say something, "--but don't you think this is carrying it a bit too far?" He backed into his apartment, shaking his head affectionately. "Honestly, Bruce. You kidder."
The door swung shut, leaving Bruce staring open-mouthed at the dark wood. After a moment he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the door.
This was a drawback to the playboy persona he hadn't ever really considered.
He headed back to his hotel. There were some issues that might be better addressed without Clark physically there to distract him.
22:37 [Drunkenwastrel]: Cock tease.
22:37 [Mildmannered]: WTF?
22:38 [Drunkenwastrel]: Flirt outrageously with me and then leave me hanging? I think that's the technical term, isn't it?
22:41 [Drunkenwastrel]: Clark, I meant it. I'm serious. I swear.
22:45 [Mildmannered]: No offense, but bullshit.
22:47 [Drunkenwastrel]: jnnjmnbnsdsgbsdf
22:48 [Drunkenwastrel]: This is me banging my head on the keyboard at your COMPLETE DENSENESS.
22:50 [Drunkenwastrel]: I want you, Clark.
22:51 [Drunkenwastrel]: I'm a dangerous, desperate man, and a very serious one.
22:53 [Drunkenwastrel]: What do I have to do to prove I'm not joking?
22:57 [Drunkenwastrel]: Clark?
23:03 [Mildmannered]: Bruce. I'm just a simple Kansas farmboy.
23:03 [Drunkenwastrel]: ...
23:04 [Mildmannered]: I have no idea what you can do to prove it.
23:05 [Mildmannered]: But I suspect *you* do.
23:08 [Drunkenwastrel]: Look, give me a second chance.
23:09 [Drunkenwastrel]: Give me another evening and just do me a favor and *assume* I'm serious and see how it goes.
23:16 [Drunkenwastrel]: Please, Clark. Don't let me screw this up.
23:19 [Mildmannered]: Okay, one more try.
23:19 [Drunkenwastrel]: You won't regret it.
23:21 [Mildmannered]: I bet you say that to all your dates.
23:22 [Drunkenwastrel]: ...
23:22 [Drunkenwastrel]: How did you know?
23:24 [Mildmannered]: LOL
23:25 [Drunkenwastrel]: Tomorrow night, my hotel, seven o'clock?
23:25 [Drunkenwastrel]: I've got a suite with a kitchen, I'll cook you a meal.
23:27 [Mildmannered]: Okay, okay, but you're still full of shit, playboy.
23:32 [Drunkenwastrel]: Clark, I hate to cut off suddenly, but you've worn me out. I'm beat, heading to bed.
23:32 [Mildmannered]: No problem, me too.
23:33 [Drunkenwastrel]: See you tomorrow. Don't forget, assume I'm serious.
23:34 [Mildmannered]: Sounds like our most dangerous adventure yet.
: : :
Five minutes past midnight, and Batman was already waiting for him, his arms crossed. Was that a toe tapping? "Sorry to be late." Being on time had turned out to be physically impossible. Kal imagined the conversation that might have ensued had he showed up at midnight. Hi there Batman. What's that, you inquire? Oh, just my raging, uncontrollable hard-on from accidentally imagining for a second that a friend of mine was serious about wanting me. Sorry. Carry on. It must be nice to have a costume that hid such embarrassing personal details, although the image of Batman with an erection was on the mind-boggling side.
Anyway, Clark had taken care of that little problem. He didn't remember this being a problem so often before, but Bruce was like a force of nature, he just couldn't stop thinking about his sardonic, sweet mouth and strong, gentle hands and lithe body and--the vigilante was definitely tapping his foot now, and Kal had better stop thinking about Bruce unless he wanted to be very embarrassed indeed.
Superman cleared his throat. "Right. I thought perhaps you'd like to go over to the rig tonight and do some hands-on investigation, see if Luthor has found anything."
"And Wayne."
"Huh?"
"Luthor and Wayne. They're partners, right? Looking for this whatever-it-is together?"
"Um, right." Kal had almost forgotten that Bruce was looking for something that could hurt Superman. Though now that he had heard the story behind Bruce's feelings it made more sense. He thought of the hurt in those dark blue eyes, hurt that he had caused.
He couldn't bear to cause Bruce hurt ever again.
"I think I'm up for a little late-night trespassing," Batman said with a slight smile.
"Okay. Let's go, then. I'll fly you over."
An awkward silence followed, in which the two costumed heroes stared at each other, both of them reaching the same conclusion simultaneously: it was going to be difficult for Superman to carry Batman in any dignified manner. Superman made ineffectual, abortive motions with his hands toward Batman, who crossed his arms and stared grimly back at him.
Finally, exasperated, Superman put his hands on his hips. "What, am I supposed to carry you by the scruff of the neck?"
"You're the superpowered alien, you figure it out." Batman glowered menacingly. I'll be damned if I'm going to step toward him like a debutante at her first cotillion, he thought darkly. When Superman seemed totally at a loss, and likely to continue that way for the rest of the evening, Batman took pity on him and unwound some grapple line. "Here. Hold on to this, I'll hold on to the other end."
"You can hold on all the way out there?"
"You do your job, I'll do mine."
Superman grabbed it like it was a lifeline, and they headed over together, Batman swooping along under Superman. The cold fall air on his face helped clear Batman's mind. It was definitely not a good idea to be thinking about Clark when he should be focusing on his work. If he hadn't had this damn meeting he would have rushed right back to Clark's apartment and insisted on having his second chance then and there. His chance to pin Clark to a wall and kiss him until that startled-deer look went out of his eyes and they were heavy with lust for him, seeing only him, bright with arousal and surrender--
All right, so the night air wasn't helping him focus that well. At least not on what he should be focusing on.
Batman was very grateful that this suit was so heavily armored. He hoped the Kryptonian wasn't checking his breathing at the moment.
They landed soundlessly on the rig and moved through it together, evading cameras and guards with ease. Finally they came to a large storeroom, slipping along the floor through the moon-striped darkness. Batman didn't see anything suspicious, just as Bruce hadn't seen anything earlier, but he saw when Kal stopped dead in mid-step, his face paling. Was that sweat on the brow beneath the glossy curl?
"What is it?" Batman whispered urgently.
Superman backed a few steps away from the spot where he had paused, then dropped to a crouch. In the dim light, Batman could see the slightest scattering of dust on the floor.
It sparkled green.
Kal was staring at it like it was a venomous snake. He whispered something under his breath that sounded like a heartfelt curse. He turned and looked at Batman, eyes angry. "You wanted something that could hurt me? Help yourself."
Batman didn't move. "A little bit of dust? That's hardly useful."
Kal turned sharply on his heel. "I've seen enough."
Batman stared at the dust on the ground but left it there.
Superman was silent all the way back to Metropolis, taking the line Batman held out almost absent-mindedly, his eyes fixed inward as if in pain. He dropped Batman off on a roof and turned to fly off without speaking. Batman bristled. "Hey! Don't just go fluttering off into the night, I want some answers from you."
Kal turned back, brow furrowed. "Answers?"
"I want to know what that dust was, and what it does to you. How can I prepare for what Luthor and Wayne have planned if I don't--"
The alien cut him off, eyes flashing. "Luthor."
"Huh?"
"Just Luthor. Wayne has nothing to do with this. You leave him out of this." Superman sounded absolutely certain, and Batman felt a sudden surge of relief. He didn't really care why Kal felt that strongly--probably had done enough homework to conclude Bruce Wayne was too dim to be a master villain--he just didn't want Superman to think Bruce was working against him.
Clark would never forgive him if he tried to destroy Superman, damn his sad blue eyes.
"Okay, okay, how can I prepare for whatever Luthor has planned if I don't know what we're dealing with?"
Kal looked at him for a very long time. Slowly he sank back to the roof and leaned against a railing. "It's Kryptonite. It's the remnants of my home planet. It's a radioactive mineral and it's deadly to me." He closed his eyes. "If I get near it, it hurts me. It burns. And it takes away my powers--I'm vulnerable, I can't fly. It's the quickest, surest way to kill me. It's where I come from, and it kills me." A long, slow breath.
Batman found himself standing next to Kal. He raised a hand to touch Superman's shoulder, hesitated. He realized he had never touched the alien before. But when he brought the gauntlet down gently on Kal's shoulder there was no electrical feeling, no surprising heat. He felt like any other man. Batman couldn't feel the cloth beneath the heavy glove, but it slid almost frictionlessly across the tense muscles of Superman's shoulder. He wished suddenly that he could feel the texture of that material.
He cleared his throat. "Kal-El." Brilliant turquoise eyes opened to look at him. "I swear that I will never use what's left of your home to hurt you." He didn't know what else to say. He couldn't explain it, it was all too complicated. I forgive you for leaving us. I care about someone who worships you. I've come to respect and trust you. "I swear."
Kal looked at him as if he could see the unspoken words between them. He put his hand over the black gauntlet on his shoulder. "I'll try to be worthy of that promise." He smiled softly, as if at a private joke. "Maybe we all do deserve a second chance."
Batman thought about Clark, probably asleep by now, their second date tomorrow night. He smiled to himself as well. "If we're lucky, sometimes we even get them."
Disclaimer: The boys belong to DC and to each other, but not to me.
Notes: "Music of the Spheres" is a series set in the combined universes of "Batman Begins" and "Superman Returns." Other stories and notes on the series here.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A day in Metropolis, with a variety of meetings and conversations, both civilian and caped. Oh, and a date.
Word Count: 6145
Clark Kent was catching up on a backload of paperwork from the week he had spent in Gotham. He stared disbelievingly at the pile of forms he had to fill out to get reimbursed for his nights at that fleabag hotel. In triplicate. He sighed and pushed his glasses up on his nose again.
On the plus side, he had gotten an email last night from Bruce Wayne saying he'd be in town today and maybe they could get together? He had told Bruce to meet him here at the Planet at noon. If he got this paperwork done by then, maybe he could have lunch with Bruce.
He grinned and reached for the next form.
Clark knew perfectly well that Bruce was just jerking his chain with that whole "dating" rigamorole, but he didn't really mind as long as it was Bruce Wayne that was kidding him about it. After all, that was what human males did with their friends, right? Tease them about their putative sexual orientation? Clark was rusty about a lot of male friendship rituals, but he was fairly certain he remembered that one correctly. So if Bruce making jokes about dating him was the price he paid for Bruce's friendship--the word warmed him just thinking it--he would grin and bear it. Hell, he'd relish it.
A friend.
It was nearly noon when the little device Batman had given him buzzed almost silently in his breast pocket. Clark went into the bathroom and made sure it was empty before pulling out the tiny black gadget. "Yes?"
"I've got some information you ought to know," rasped the Dark Knight's voice.
"Good morning to you too." It was very strange to be talking like Superman while not in costume. Clark had to stand up straight to get the chest room to make his voice as resonant as it needed to be, which felt very unnatural in his street clothes. "I was actually just about to call you. Is there a chance you can come down to Metropolis soon?"
A pause. "It's a bit of a trip for me, Kal. Is there some reason you need me there?"
"There's something I need to physically check out, and I'd like you there with me. Our mutual friend."
"You know, I do have a daytime life in Gotham, I can't flit from city to city like you do, free of a secret identity to tie you down."
Clark Kent, standing in a dingy bathroom stall, rolled his eyes at the peeling paint on the ceiling. "Are you going to whine or are you going to come down to Metropolis?"
An annoyed grunt. "I can probably be there by this evening. Will midnight do? The top of the Daily Planet?"
"The Daily Planet?"
"It's the most obvious landmark in Metropolis."
"Point taken. Tonight, then."
A slightly more affirmative grunt and the connection was broken without a further word. Clark glared at the silent communicator for a moment, then tapped it again.
"What?"
"You seem a bit out of sorts," Superman said sweetly. "You're not upset that I found the little tracking device in this thing and disabled it, are you?"
A cut-off snarl was his only answer. Clark grinned and felt somewhat better as he made his way back to his desk. He had hardly taken his seat when he spotted Bruce Wayne's lean, elegant figure entering the office. His heart leapt, and he tamped it down as ruthlessly as he could.
Stupid heart. Sometimes it didn't seem to know it wasn't human.
Bruce Wayne entered the Daily Planet offices, scanning the room for Clark's familiar form. Clark had already seen him; when he caught Bruce's eye he raised a hand to beckon him over. The reporter was in full dork mode--his hair was rumpled, his glasses smudged, his posture slumped and graceless. Bruce had a moment's surreally sharp vision--Clark's gold-dusted face lifted in ecstacy, the sculpted body under that ill-fitting suit--and nearly stumbled as the office swam around him. Clark was like the most wonderful Christmas present ever, wrapped up in ugly brown paper, shining and glittering inside, and waiting for Bruce to unwrap him. It. Another delightful secret Bruce Wayne intended to keep entirely to himself.
He made his way over to Clark's desk, pulled up a chair to sit down next to him. "I don't know how you can work here," he said, indicating the chaotic office. "It's a zoo." The editor-in-chief was yelling at someone in his office, and three different televisions were playing three different stations.
Clark shrugged. "You learn to tune it out. I hope the traffic wasn't too bad on the way down?"
Before Bruce could answer, a child's voice cut across the noise of the office: "Clark, Clark!" A boy, about five years old, was running in between the desks with the ease of long familiarity, stopping at Clark's. "We got out of school early today," he said, looking expectantly at Clark.
Clark grinned and tapped the boy on the nose with a finger. "Ask politely, Jason."
Jason rolled his eyes, smiling. "May I please play with your action figures, Clark?"
Clark opened up a desk drawer, revealing a jumble of jointed plastic figures. There was one with claws and one big one with green skin, but Bruce groaned inwardly as the kid went right for the one in black. Shadowy vigilantes could seldom retain control of their image.
"Jason, this is Bruce Wayne. Bruce, this is Jason Lane. He's the son of one of my co-workers." Jason made a non-committal greeting noise, focused on getting the Batman figure's limbs posed the way he wanted. Once he was satisfied, he started to run about the office with the figure held in a flying position, its arms outstretched and cape flapping. He halted in front of Bruce and grinned impishly.
Bruce couldn't help himself. "Batman doesn't fly," he said quellingly. "That's Superman's job."
Jason scoffed. "Clark won't buy a Superman figure, he says they look dumb."
"No dumber than that Batman does." That didn't look anything like his chin. He should feel glad, but instead he felt annoyed that some Taiwanese toy company had given Batman a weak chin. That Clark had a Batman doll--action figure--with a weak chin.
He was pathetic.
The boy shrugged. "Batman's kind of lame anyway. Superman's the coolest."
"Jason," said Clark, "It's not nice to call people lame. And Batman's not lame at all."
"He's just some guy in a mask, there's nothing special about him."
Clark plucked the black-clad action figure from Jason's hands. "And that is why he's cooler than Superman. He risks his life every day without any powers at all. Which is totally awesome." He held the Batman figure in front of the boy, pointing at him with one accusatory gauntlet. "Apologize to Batman, Jason."
Jason rolled his eyes again, but when Clark showed no sign of relinquishing the toy, he said laughingly, "I'm sorry, Batman. I was wrong, you totally rock." Clark handed over the figure. Jason took it and grinned at Clark, shaking his head. "You are such a dork, Clark." The child's voice was full of the affectionate condescension kids have toward the odder adults in their lives.
"Jason! Stop bothering Clark," came a woman's voice from the door of the editor's office. She smiled at Clark apologetically.
"It's no bother at all, Lois," said Clark hastily.
Lois came over and ruffled the boy's unruly hair, smiling at Bruce. "Clark has let himself be turned into our ad hoc workplace daycare provider. He always keeps Jason entertained when he's around." The boy now had Batman easily beating the Hulk in hand-to-hand combat, a result Bruce found improbable but satisfying.
Clark shrugged again, watching the battle and grinning. "It's really my pleasure."
"We're off to lunch. Jason, give Clark his dolls back."
"Mom, they're action figures," complained the child, as he reluctantly handed back the toys.
"Right, right," said Lois tolerantly, rolling her eyes as she ushered the child out.
"Get a Superman one, Clark!" Jason called back over his shoulder at the door.
Bruce watched Lois and her child disappear through the door and raised an eyebrow at Clark. "Lois Lane, the Pulitzer Prize-winner, is your child-endangering co-worker?"
Clark bristled. "Lois and Richard are wonderful parents and they love Jason with all their hearts. He's a very lucky boy."
Bruce shrugged and changed the subject. "I have time for lunch before I have to go meet Luthor, and we still haven't set a time for our date tonight."
Clark grinned to himself at the "date" but decided not to rise to the bait this time. "I thought we'd get some subs and eat in the park. It's a nice day."
Their sandwiches purchased, Clark found them a bench in the park and they sat, eating companionably and eyeing the city around them. Clark sighed.
"You know, I really can't show you Metropolis with the same sort of intensity you showed me Gotham. It's not where I grew up, and I've only lived here for a few months altogether. I'm still practically a stranger here." He chewed a bite of sandwich thoughtfully, looking rather sad.
"When I was about ten, my parents brought me here on vacation. I remember how overwhelming it all was, all the people and the traffic. It felt like being in the heart of the world, listening to it beat. I knew I wanted to live here when I grew up. But Metropolis isn't like Gotham. What you see is pretty much what you get."
"Like Superman," said Bruce.
"Is Superman that simple to you?" Clark was honestly curious. He didn't feel simple.
His companion waved his sub vaguely. "Like you said, what you see is what you get. He's a big, good-hearted alien. The parts of him we can't understand I figure we'll never understand, and the parts of him we do are pretty uncomplicated."
Well, at least he'd gotten a "good-hearted" out of him. "You make him sound shallow."
"Not shallow, just...uninteresting." Bruce's voice was dismissive, and Clark was suddenly angry. He knew he didn't have any right to be--hadn't he deliberately kept "Clark Kent" a secret so that no one would know he had a human side? Hadn't he done it in part to see how ordinary humans felt about the world, and about him?
But this wasn't "an ordinary human." This was Bruce Wayne, and his contempt stung a surprising amount.
"What have you got against Superman, anyway? What'd he ever do to you, huh, that you'd spend your time and money looking for a way to keep him in check?"
Bruce flared up in answer to the challenge in Clark's tone. "What'd he do to me? I learned early, Clark, that evil is strong and powerful and most humans are powerless. Then when I'm about to graduate from college, here comes this alien who has what most of us don't have--power. The power to really change things, the power to bring hope against the darkness. And what does he do with that power? He leaves. He left us alone in the dark again. And the week after he left, I found out my parents' killer was going to walk free."
He was glaring at Clark now but didn't seem to see him. "You know what I did? I decided that the only power we petty humans had was the power to take life, to destroy and hurt. So I got a gun and I went to kill my parents' murderer." He gave Clark a look that was part defiance and part misery.
"But...but you didn't do that. You changed your mind."
"I didn't do it because someone else did it first, that's all. No nobility on my part." Bruce crumpled up the paper bag the sandwich had been in and tossed it angrily at a wastebasket. "You know how in the Pandora story, Hope is the last thing out of the box? Some people say that's because Hope was the last mitigating gift, but that day I knew better. I knew Hope was the last and cruelest curse of the gods to humanity."
His voice was full of echoes of bitterness and pain, and Clark found himself nearly speechless in response. He struggled for words. "You told me back in Gotham that it was a great city because it had hope. You--somewhere, you found hope again, you learned to trust it again."
Bruce sighed. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't." He stood up abruptly, his face shuttered. "I have to go meet up with Luthor." He turned and started to walk away.
Clark stood up as well. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't apologize on Superman's behalf. The enormity of his decision to leave Earth stunned him once again. The effects had spread like ripples he had never considered, breaking on the shores of a younger version of Bruce Wayne, tormented by hope.
He ran a few steps after Bruce, then called after him. "Hey!" The other man stopped, turned halfway around. Clark realized he had no idea what to say. "What about our date? We haven't set a time and place to meet later."
"How about we meet at seven-thirty, right here?" Bruce smiled, a beautiful, rueful smile. Then he walked back to where Clark was standing, reached out and brushed a thumb along one of Clark's cheekbones. "See what I mean? Hope."
Clark stood there like an idiot and watched Bruce leave the park, that light touch still burning along his cheek.
: : :
Few men could successfully pull off wearing a purple suit, Bruce Wayne reflected. Lex Luthor was not one of those men.
"Brucie!" exclaimed Luthor, managing to pump his hand vigorously, pound him on the back, and ruffle his hair almost immediately. A new record. "I'm so glad you're safe and sound and back here in my city."
Bruce smiled and bobbed his head. His city. In his dreams. "Gosh, Mr. Luthor, I'm glad to be back too. I've been so nervous up in Gotham."
"We'll figure out who did that to your offices, m'boy. And then, you and me, we'll crush 'em." Luthor made an enthusiastic crushing motion with one hand.
"Speaking of crushing, how goes the work on the rig?"
Luthor's expression fell. "Oh, we've found all kinds of valuable crap, just not what we're looking for."
"Actually, you still haven't told me what exactly we're looking for."
"I told you--the green mineral that hurts Superman," Luthor explained as if to a small child. Bruce hadn't been expecting a discussion of the chemical composition and refractive properties of the crystal, but he would have liked something a little more specific than that. But Luthor was continuing, one arm still slung over Bruce's shoulders, "I thought I'd show you the rig today." He guided Bruce to an elevator which let them out on the roof next to a helicopter.
"Wow, that's fantastic, Mr. Luthor!" This time Bruce's enthusiasm was at least partly sincere. He had wanted to get a look at that rig close-up for a long time.
A few hours later, Bruce had gotten a good feel for the layout of the mining rig. That might be useful later. He hadn't seen anything that looked suspicious...beyond Luthor's suspicious pride in the fact that he had such very large and powerful drills at his command.
Luthor leaned against a railing, gazing out at "his city." Bruce stood next to him. He wished Clark were there. Clark would shoot Bruce a sideways look full of laughter, and Lex would seem ridiculous and small, just a silly little man.
"This is all great, Mr. Luthor...but if whatever we're looking for is dangerous to Superman, why has he let us continue looking? He could sink this whole thing easily."
Luthor clapped his hands together in delight and self-congratulation. "The first thing you need to know about Superman, young man, is that he has an aversion to taking life and destroying things. He doesn't want to risk any of the workers getting hurt, and he doesn't want to be seen as high-handedly destroying private property. It's all P.R., Bruce, all P.R.."
Lex gripped the railing with both hands and rocked backward a bit. "And besides, I have an ace in the hole. A small ace, but one that will probably make a difference." Lex smiled at Bruce. The October wind across the bay was balmy compared to that smile. Bruce hid his disquiet and smiled back.
He wished Clark were there.
: : :
Bruce looked out his hotel window. There was still some time before he was supposed to meet Clark. He felt restless and on edge. He shouldn't have snapped at Clark earlier. It wasn't his fault. Bruce had forgotten how much Clark had invested in Superman. He thought of those big blue eyes behind the glasses, wide with shock and something like hurt. Damnit.
He couldn't just sit around his hotel room, mooning on about Clark. He was already far too tightly wound about this date tonight. If he sat here thinking about it all afternoon he'd be in such a state he'd make a total fool of himself. Just thinking about it now brought back the memory of what it had felt like to hear Clark say his name, the desire that had torn through him like lightning. He shivered, realizing he had fallen into a reverie about how Clark would feel and sound and taste in person, not on a computer screen.
This was a waste of energy.
He opened his suitcase and pulled out a suit--lighter than usual for travel. It wouldn't hurt to do some scouting, get a better feel for the city.
Batman slipped out of the hotel room window and into the sunset shadows starting to fall across Metropolis.
He had meant to stick to quiet reconnaissance, but to his annoyance the convenience store he was scouting from the roof of was being robbed. Batman could hear voices raised in panic nearby. He wasn't sure where Superman was, but he wasn't going to let someone get hurt just because of some territoriality issue.
The thugs in the store were understandably startled to find themselves being kicked senseless by heavy black boots rather than tied up politely at super-speed. The owners of the store were nearly as alarmed as the criminals, all things considered. Batman righted an overturned display--Kal probably didn't cause quite so much property damage in his crimefighting--and beat a hasty retreat.
He had barely made it to the top of another building before Superman was there. It had been too much to hope he wouldn't have overheard the commotion. "Thank you."
"Apparently even you can't be in two places at once."
A slight smile. "I'm working on it, but so far, no luck." Kal descended to the roof, his cape flowing around him, grace incarnate. "You said you had information for me? You might as well tell me now, we'll be busy when we meet again at midnight."
Batman backed a little further into the mercifully lengthening shadows. "You may have heard that a Gotham-based villain who calls himself Mr. Freeze broke into the Gotham Art Museum last week?"
"I had heard of it, yes."
"He stole only one thing--a book of old fairy tales, bound in red leather. And he sold it to Intergang this week for a truly impressive sum."
Kal frowned. "Thank you for passing that on."
"Maybe they're planning to read you bedtime stories until you fall asleep?"
There was no answering smile on the alien's face. "Those old tales aren't always good ones to sleep on."
Batman shrugged. "Maybe they'll just hit you over the head with it." A thought occurred to him; he paused and added, "Also, word on the street has it that Lex Luthor believes he has an ace in the hole against you. A small ace in the hole, he was heard saying."
Superman's face went stiller than ever, completely closed and alien. He turned away and looked out at the city silently. His feet had left the roof again slightly and he hovered, his cape trembling in the slight wind, his back to the other man.
Batman stepped out for the shadows and moved closer. "Kal?" No response. "Kal. What did he mean?"
Superman tilted his head back, looking at the sky. "I can deal with it." He turned to face Batman again. "Thank you for passing that on, Batman." He stumbled on the title a bit and smiled, somewhat wistfully.
"It doesn't seem fair that you can call me by my real name and I have to call you 'Batman.' I'm not asking for your real name," he said hastily as Batman's jaw tightened, "It would just be nice to have something a little less formal to call you by. I don't think you'd like being called 'Batsy.'"
Batman shrugged uncomfortably. "I suppose you could call me B."
"B? Just the letter B?"
"Would you rather call me Irving? B will do."
"Terse and unrevealing. It suits you."
Into the pause in the conversation, a church clock struck seven.
Superman startled into the air like a bird at the sound. "Um, I really have to go," he said a little breathlessly, glancing back at the clock tower in disbelief. "I'm sorry, B, but--"
He turned back to find that Batman had already vanished into the shadows, gone before the clock had finished striking. Superman sighed in relief. He had to hurry and get changed to meet up with Bruce.
: : :
Clark had been waiting on the park bench where they had eaten lunch for about ten minutes before Bruce arrived, walking just a little bit fast. "You're late," Clark pointed out mildly.
"Am I?" Bruce looked down at his hand, grinned sheepishly and showed Clark the bare wrist. "Sorry, forgot my watch." He sat down on the bench next to Clark. "So, where to?"
"I thought we might go to this Italian place I know. Great alfredo. And within walking distance."
"Lead on, MacDuff," Bruce bowed with a flourish.
Bruce seemed to like the restaurant--it wasn't anywhere near as fancy as the French place he had taken Clark in Gotham, but it had a nice candlelit ambiance and the owner knew Clark, so they were given a good table.
Clark was trying to talk about the investigation into the bombing, but Bruce didn't seem interested in that right now. Instead he was asking questions about Clark's work, his history, his likes and dislikes, all the while looking at Clark with such a dead-on parody of romantic interest that Clark almost laughed. It would have been uncomfortable except that conversations with Bruce were never really uncomfortable, and Clark found himself unwinding and talking about Smallville, about his childhood there and his father's death, his job at the Planet and its small frustrations. Bruce shared a few stories, mostly about Alfred, but mainly he just listened raptly. It was as if he found Clark's life interesting. Considering the life Bruce had led, this seemed unlikely to Clark, but it was gratifying nonetheless.
Bruce reached out and ran a finger along the back of Clark's hand as Clark finished some story about wanting to be on the football team. Clark tried to keep his face steady as his senses ran riot. It didn't mean anything, Bruce was just pretending to flirt with him...but this made it the fifth time the playboy had found some excuse to touch him and it was playing havoc with his composure. He'd be angry at his friend for toying with his affections, but since Bruce didn't know he had affections to toy with, that would be unfair.
Though "affections" seemed rather a mild word for what right now felt more like "ravening hungers threatening to prompt him to lunge over the dinner table and attempt to ravish his only friend on the spot."
Control, Clark, control. It's all part of the playboy reputation, it doesn't mean anyth-- A shoeless foot slid up the inside of his calf toward his knee, and Clark almost choked on his wine. Bruce grinned at him from across the table.
Clark decided he was willing to be toyed with; he was, at the very least, getting enough material for masturbatory fantasies to last for the next decade.
He just hoped Bruce wouldn't go so far with the charade as to kiss him at the door, because he really wasn't sure he had the self-control to deal with that.
: : :
Bruce hoped he wasn't going overboard here, but he was having a hard time keeping his hands--and feet--off of Clark. He suspected that if he didn't watch out he'd end up in Clark's lap by dessert.
He could think of worse desserts.
Clark seemed shy and awkward but not uninterested in Bruce's flirtation. Bruce knew Clark was interested, he had seen and heard it himself--don't think about it or you'll be under the table and having him for dessert--it was just a matter of approaching it the right way. Gently, don't frighten him off. Bruce tried to look unthreateningly predatory. He wasn't sure it was working.
He walked back to Clark's apartment with him, talking, comparing movies and music, the usual things one did on a first date.
At the door, Clark paused and looked at Bruce, uncertain. The mute, almost-hidden inquiry in his eyes dragged Bruce to him like a magnet, completely unable to keep himself from kissing him as he'd wanted to for longer than he liked to admit.
Bruce felt the curve of Clark's upper lip against his mouth, the way the lower lip opened just enough to deepen the kiss.
He felt Clark's breath filling his mouth, warm and full.
He felt the neat and orderly chessboard of his life tilt crazily sideways, the black and white pieces tumbling out of control, and he put his hands on Clark's shoulders and held on for dear life.
Slowly he became aware that Clark hadn't put his arms around him in return. He opened his eyes to find Clark's startling blue eyes looking into his. As Bruce moved back, Clark took a deep breath, then smiled, a friendly smile.
"Really, Bruce, that's not necessary. I understand you want to keep that playboy reputation going, and I understand that you want to shock staid old Metropolis by flirting openly with a man, and I even understand that for some reason you've decided to flirt with me instead of some more suitable partner--" he held up a hand as Bruce started to say something, "--but don't you think this is carrying it a bit too far?" He backed into his apartment, shaking his head affectionately. "Honestly, Bruce. You kidder."
The door swung shut, leaving Bruce staring open-mouthed at the dark wood. After a moment he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the door.
This was a drawback to the playboy persona he hadn't ever really considered.
He headed back to his hotel. There were some issues that might be better addressed without Clark physically there to distract him.
22:37 [Drunkenwastrel]: Cock tease.
22:37 [Mildmannered]: WTF?
22:38 [Drunkenwastrel]: Flirt outrageously with me and then leave me hanging? I think that's the technical term, isn't it?
22:41 [Drunkenwastrel]: Clark, I meant it. I'm serious. I swear.
22:45 [Mildmannered]: No offense, but bullshit.
22:47 [Drunkenwastrel]: jnnjmnbnsdsgbsdf
22:48 [Drunkenwastrel]: This is me banging my head on the keyboard at your COMPLETE DENSENESS.
22:50 [Drunkenwastrel]: I want you, Clark.
22:51 [Drunkenwastrel]: I'm a dangerous, desperate man, and a very serious one.
22:53 [Drunkenwastrel]: What do I have to do to prove I'm not joking?
22:57 [Drunkenwastrel]: Clark?
23:03 [Mildmannered]: Bruce. I'm just a simple Kansas farmboy.
23:03 [Drunkenwastrel]: ...
23:04 [Mildmannered]: I have no idea what you can do to prove it.
23:05 [Mildmannered]: But I suspect *you* do.
23:08 [Drunkenwastrel]: Look, give me a second chance.
23:09 [Drunkenwastrel]: Give me another evening and just do me a favor and *assume* I'm serious and see how it goes.
23:16 [Drunkenwastrel]: Please, Clark. Don't let me screw this up.
23:19 [Mildmannered]: Okay, one more try.
23:19 [Drunkenwastrel]: You won't regret it.
23:21 [Mildmannered]: I bet you say that to all your dates.
23:22 [Drunkenwastrel]: ...
23:22 [Drunkenwastrel]: How did you know?
23:24 [Mildmannered]: LOL
23:25 [Drunkenwastrel]: Tomorrow night, my hotel, seven o'clock?
23:25 [Drunkenwastrel]: I've got a suite with a kitchen, I'll cook you a meal.
23:27 [Mildmannered]: Okay, okay, but you're still full of shit, playboy.
23:32 [Drunkenwastrel]: Clark, I hate to cut off suddenly, but you've worn me out. I'm beat, heading to bed.
23:32 [Mildmannered]: No problem, me too.
23:33 [Drunkenwastrel]: See you tomorrow. Don't forget, assume I'm serious.
23:34 [Mildmannered]: Sounds like our most dangerous adventure yet.
: : :
Five minutes past midnight, and Batman was already waiting for him, his arms crossed. Was that a toe tapping? "Sorry to be late." Being on time had turned out to be physically impossible. Kal imagined the conversation that might have ensued had he showed up at midnight. Hi there Batman. What's that, you inquire? Oh, just my raging, uncontrollable hard-on from accidentally imagining for a second that a friend of mine was serious about wanting me. Sorry. Carry on. It must be nice to have a costume that hid such embarrassing personal details, although the image of Batman with an erection was on the mind-boggling side.
Anyway, Clark had taken care of that little problem. He didn't remember this being a problem so often before, but Bruce was like a force of nature, he just couldn't stop thinking about his sardonic, sweet mouth and strong, gentle hands and lithe body and--the vigilante was definitely tapping his foot now, and Kal had better stop thinking about Bruce unless he wanted to be very embarrassed indeed.
Superman cleared his throat. "Right. I thought perhaps you'd like to go over to the rig tonight and do some hands-on investigation, see if Luthor has found anything."
"And Wayne."
"Huh?"
"Luthor and Wayne. They're partners, right? Looking for this whatever-it-is together?"
"Um, right." Kal had almost forgotten that Bruce was looking for something that could hurt Superman. Though now that he had heard the story behind Bruce's feelings it made more sense. He thought of the hurt in those dark blue eyes, hurt that he had caused.
He couldn't bear to cause Bruce hurt ever again.
"I think I'm up for a little late-night trespassing," Batman said with a slight smile.
"Okay. Let's go, then. I'll fly you over."
An awkward silence followed, in which the two costumed heroes stared at each other, both of them reaching the same conclusion simultaneously: it was going to be difficult for Superman to carry Batman in any dignified manner. Superman made ineffectual, abortive motions with his hands toward Batman, who crossed his arms and stared grimly back at him.
Finally, exasperated, Superman put his hands on his hips. "What, am I supposed to carry you by the scruff of the neck?"
"You're the superpowered alien, you figure it out." Batman glowered menacingly. I'll be damned if I'm going to step toward him like a debutante at her first cotillion, he thought darkly. When Superman seemed totally at a loss, and likely to continue that way for the rest of the evening, Batman took pity on him and unwound some grapple line. "Here. Hold on to this, I'll hold on to the other end."
"You can hold on all the way out there?"
"You do your job, I'll do mine."
Superman grabbed it like it was a lifeline, and they headed over together, Batman swooping along under Superman. The cold fall air on his face helped clear Batman's mind. It was definitely not a good idea to be thinking about Clark when he should be focusing on his work. If he hadn't had this damn meeting he would have rushed right back to Clark's apartment and insisted on having his second chance then and there. His chance to pin Clark to a wall and kiss him until that startled-deer look went out of his eyes and they were heavy with lust for him, seeing only him, bright with arousal and surrender--
All right, so the night air wasn't helping him focus that well. At least not on what he should be focusing on.
Batman was very grateful that this suit was so heavily armored. He hoped the Kryptonian wasn't checking his breathing at the moment.
They landed soundlessly on the rig and moved through it together, evading cameras and guards with ease. Finally they came to a large storeroom, slipping along the floor through the moon-striped darkness. Batman didn't see anything suspicious, just as Bruce hadn't seen anything earlier, but he saw when Kal stopped dead in mid-step, his face paling. Was that sweat on the brow beneath the glossy curl?
"What is it?" Batman whispered urgently.
Superman backed a few steps away from the spot where he had paused, then dropped to a crouch. In the dim light, Batman could see the slightest scattering of dust on the floor.
It sparkled green.
Kal was staring at it like it was a venomous snake. He whispered something under his breath that sounded like a heartfelt curse. He turned and looked at Batman, eyes angry. "You wanted something that could hurt me? Help yourself."
Batman didn't move. "A little bit of dust? That's hardly useful."
Kal turned sharply on his heel. "I've seen enough."
Batman stared at the dust on the ground but left it there.
Superman was silent all the way back to Metropolis, taking the line Batman held out almost absent-mindedly, his eyes fixed inward as if in pain. He dropped Batman off on a roof and turned to fly off without speaking. Batman bristled. "Hey! Don't just go fluttering off into the night, I want some answers from you."
Kal turned back, brow furrowed. "Answers?"
"I want to know what that dust was, and what it does to you. How can I prepare for what Luthor and Wayne have planned if I don't--"
The alien cut him off, eyes flashing. "Luthor."
"Huh?"
"Just Luthor. Wayne has nothing to do with this. You leave him out of this." Superman sounded absolutely certain, and Batman felt a sudden surge of relief. He didn't really care why Kal felt that strongly--probably had done enough homework to conclude Bruce Wayne was too dim to be a master villain--he just didn't want Superman to think Bruce was working against him.
Clark would never forgive him if he tried to destroy Superman, damn his sad blue eyes.
"Okay, okay, how can I prepare for whatever Luthor has planned if I don't know what we're dealing with?"
Kal looked at him for a very long time. Slowly he sank back to the roof and leaned against a railing. "It's Kryptonite. It's the remnants of my home planet. It's a radioactive mineral and it's deadly to me." He closed his eyes. "If I get near it, it hurts me. It burns. And it takes away my powers--I'm vulnerable, I can't fly. It's the quickest, surest way to kill me. It's where I come from, and it kills me." A long, slow breath.
Batman found himself standing next to Kal. He raised a hand to touch Superman's shoulder, hesitated. He realized he had never touched the alien before. But when he brought the gauntlet down gently on Kal's shoulder there was no electrical feeling, no surprising heat. He felt like any other man. Batman couldn't feel the cloth beneath the heavy glove, but it slid almost frictionlessly across the tense muscles of Superman's shoulder. He wished suddenly that he could feel the texture of that material.
He cleared his throat. "Kal-El." Brilliant turquoise eyes opened to look at him. "I swear that I will never use what's left of your home to hurt you." He didn't know what else to say. He couldn't explain it, it was all too complicated. I forgive you for leaving us. I care about someone who worships you. I've come to respect and trust you. "I swear."
Kal looked at him as if he could see the unspoken words between them. He put his hand over the black gauntlet on his shoulder. "I'll try to be worthy of that promise." He smiled softly, as if at a private joke. "Maybe we all do deserve a second chance."
Batman thought about Clark, probably asleep by now, their second date tomorrow night. He smiled to himself as well. "If we're lucky, sometimes we even get them."