Fic: Prelude to a Tango | Burtonverse/Reeveverse | Clark/Bruce(/Lois) | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: Prelude to a Tango
Fandom: Batman Burtonverse/Superman Reeveverse
Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne(/Lois Lane)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,723
Prompt: For Porn Battle XII: hands, glasses, unspoken, want, lesson, hotel, dance, tux, tension
Summary: In preparation for a charity ball, Bruce teaches Clark how to tango. He gets one hell of a revelation in return.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Possible prequel to Tango. Originally posted here at PB XII.
Prelude to a Tango
“This is ridiculous.”
Scowling at Clark's lack of faith in him, Bruce grabbed the bow-tie from the garment bag. “You're ridiculous. Now, do you want Lois to notice you at this thing or not?”
Clark scowled in return, crossing his arms momentarily, then dropping them heavily at his sides as he relented. “Yes. Just... do I really have to dress up like... like a-”
“Like one of us?” Bruce finished for him with a lifted eyebrow, reaching around to fix the tie in place, tying it just right. “Isn't that classist?”
“What? No!” Clark asserted, tugging a little on the tie after Bruce finished and stepped away. Glancing in the mirror over the dresser in the hotel room, he fidgeted with the tie until it looked straight. “I didn't mean it like that, Bruce. I just don't look like me, is all.”
Shaking his head as he came back with the matching tux jacket, Bruce caught sight of the tie and let out a heavy breath. “Stop messing up my work. You've got it all crooked,” he insisted, tucking the jacket over his arm and reaching around again to help fix the thing. “Do you honestly think Lois wants to be swept off her feet by a hayseed in a plaid leisure suit?”
“Well, no, but-”
“No buts. There's your answer.” Satisfied at last that the tie was straight, Bruce held out the jacket to slide it up Clark's arms and over his shoulders, his friend shrugging it on easily. “Now,” he went on as he smoothed down the fabric, Clark inspecting the finished look in the mirror, “you're gonna get in there, and wine her, and dine her, and do the tango with her, and all that fancy stuff, and she's not gonna know what hit her.”
Clark stiffened, straightening slightly. “Tango?”
“Yeah,” Bruce answered slowly. “Don't tell me you've never....” But he trailed off, already knowing the answer, despite himself, and he smacked his forehead with a palm. “Of course you haven't. Did you seriously think you wouldn't have to dance at a charity ball?”
“Um....”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “All right. Come here. If you're gonna do this, then you at least need to know a few steps so you won't fall all over your date.”
But Clark's brows raised behind his glasses, and he remained rooted to the spot as Bruce lifted his arms in invitation. “Look, I'm sure I'll be fine. I don't need to-”
“Yes, you do. You've got the coordination and memory to pick it up in no time, and I've been dancing at these things since before my testicles dropped. Just, consider it a different sort of training, okay? Now get over here.” God, Clark could be such a big baby.
Finally, with a quick, deep breath, as if to fortify himself, Clark stepped away from the mirror and into Bruce's space. “Okay. Um, how do we-?”
A little fumbling, and Bruce arranged Clark's hands in the right places, one around his waist and one clasped tightly in his. “Like this. You're leading. The tango's a four-four beat, so keep that in mind. Now step out with your left foot, follow with the right, and I'll move along with you. Easy.”
Clearing his throat and decidedly not looking at Bruce as he started, Clark stepped to the left. “Oh,” he said, sounding surprised as their steps lined up together, the pair moving through the suite effortlessly as Bruce counted the steps under his breath.
“See? What'd I tell you? Now pause on the up-beat, and switch directions,” Bruce instructed, letting Clark do the work, broad hands supporting him as they moved through the turn to go back the other way. He couldn't help feeling a note of pride at the way Clark was picking up the steps, a touch of heat rising in his chest at their proximity.
And wasn't that new?
Catching Clark's gaze as they turned again, Bruce continuing to count the steps to keep them on track, he realized that his friend's cheeks had gone pink, a faint blush spreading over his face. Okay....
A few more steps, another turn, and-and there was no mistaking the sudden poke at Bruce's hip.
Oh!
Allowing himself a smirk at the absolute absurdity of the situation, Bruce instructed, “Now dip me.”
Clark froze, his eyes going wide, and the whole dance ground to a halt. “Wh-what?”
“Dip me. And loosen up. You're awfully... stiff.”
Sputtering, Clark tried to let go of Bruce completely, but Bruce tugged him closer, making it impossible for him to deny his current state.
“Is that kryptonite in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” he said, holding Clark's gaze for a long moment before finally dissolving onto giggles as he dropped his forehead to Clark's shoulder.
“Um....” was all Clark managed, his breath quickening, chest rising against Bruce's, and that wasn't exactly what Bruce had expected in reaction.
Drawing back, he pulled just slightly out of Clark's arms, suddenly too aware of the heat between them. “Wh-are you serious? You mean to tell me that that isn't just a normal male reaction to close contact?”
The look on Clark's face answered the question all too clearly.
“Well, say something!” Bruce sputtered, pushing a hand through his hair and staring, wide-eyed.
But Clark turned away, stepping back to the mirror to straighten his jacket and fiddle with his tie, that'd gone crooked again.
“What about Lois, for God's sake?” he went on, shoving his hands down in his pants pockets to keep from gripping Clark's shoulders to grab his attention. “This is nuts. You can't-and-and then-”
A sigh, and Clark finally turned back to face him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Bruce, what do you want me to say, here? That I'm confused? That I don't know why that happened? That maybe I'm just over-eager? Well, I'm sorry, none of that's true. I know what I want, I know why it happened, and I'm not over-eager. And yes, I still want Lois. I... I love her, all right? I can't help that I have...” pausing, he averted his surprisingly intense gaze, “...feelings for you, too. I just don't want you to think I'm a freak.”
Bruce just gaped, not quite able to process it all. It just wasn't possible, that Clark could love Lois and still return the feelings that Bruce would never had admitted to. Was it? He wasn't ready for this. Clark wasn't ready for this.
Or were they? The details and dynamics working themselves out in his head, he realized slowly that maybe... maybe there was a solution that Clark hadn't considered yet. Assuming he thought his options were one or none, and didn't that just sound like a dilemma Clark would agonize over?
“I'd better get downstairs,” Clark said then, suddenly going for the door to make his escape, and oh no, that was not happening.
Intercepting him before he could get that far, Bruce grabbed his shoulders and forced him to meet his eyes. “Hold on, Clark. You don't get to drop bombshells like that and then just... just walk away. Do you have any idea the kind of wrench you just threw into the works?”
Clark clenched his jaw, blowing a breath out his nose, and nodded curtly. “Yeah,” he said, “a really damn big one. Why do you think I didn't want to come to this thing in the first place, and didn't want to wear a tux? Do you have any idea what having your hands all over me did to me?” At Bruce's dark smirk, he huffed and shook his head. “Of course you do. Point is, I have to make a choice, and sometimes the best option is neither, because I don't want to hurt either of you. I knew I should've just let Perry send me to Paris to cover the G8 conference.”
At that, Bruce felt stricken, heat rising in his face as he realized he was right. “Are you positively insane? I mean, I don't see any Joker brand products lying around,” he said with a quick mock-glance around the room, “but clearly, you've lost your mind. What the hell makes you think that you have to make a choice or just give up altogether? You don't think Lois is capable of sharing? You don't think I'm capable of sharing? You think you're supposed to be better than this? Last time I checked, you were an alien, and look at me: I dress up as a giant goddamn Bat, for fuck's sake, you think my romantic sensibilities could possibly be normal?”
When Clark opened his mouth to protest, Bruce held up a hand to silence him. “I'm not through. Obviously, your time is spread pretty thin already, and so is mine, but you know Lois thinks I'm adorable-oh yes, she does,” he nodded seriously. “And between the three us, I'm pretty sure that everybody'd get enough attention.”
Blanching, Clark sucked in a gasp, and after a long moment of tense silence, his features softened somewhat. “Don't you think you ought to ask Lois, first, before you go making time share deals?”
At that, Bruce relaxed, his shoulders dropping and a grin moving over his face as he slid his hands down Clark's arms. “Tell you what. I'll set her up, and you go sweep her off her feet. Then I'll cut in, and we'll take it from there. What's the worst that can happen, a drink thrown in our faces?”
“A lot worse than that,” Clark pointed out, looking a little pale. “The last guy that crossed her walked away with a broken nose.”
“See?” Bruce said, brightening even more as he stood straight and smoothed down his own jacket. “You have the proper respect for her-she'll eat it up with a spoon.”
“She'll eat your spleen with a spoon,” Clark warned.
A grin, and Bruce moved in close to cup a hand around Clark's neck and draw him in for a firm kiss, their first, and damn, Clark tasted even better than he'd expected, melting against him easily as his hands slid around Bruce's waist. “I'd be honored if she did,” he breathed against those lips. “Hell, I'll get you a job at the Gotham Gazette if things go that sideways. But no matter what happens, you know I'd be honored to be in the fray with you.”
Clark actually huffed out a small laugh at that, resting his forehead against Bruce's. “It's not a battle, Bruce.”
“Exactly, Clark. Exactly.”
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Batman Burtonverse/Superman Reeveverse
Pairing: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne(/Lois Lane)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,723
Prompt: For Porn Battle XII: hands, glasses, unspoken, want, lesson, hotel, dance, tux, tension
Summary: In preparation for a charity ball, Bruce teaches Clark how to tango. He gets one hell of a revelation in return.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Possible prequel to Tango. Originally posted here at PB XII.
Prelude to a Tango
“This is ridiculous.”
Scowling at Clark's lack of faith in him, Bruce grabbed the bow-tie from the garment bag. “You're ridiculous. Now, do you want Lois to notice you at this thing or not?”
Clark scowled in return, crossing his arms momentarily, then dropping them heavily at his sides as he relented. “Yes. Just... do I really have to dress up like... like a-”
“Like one of us?” Bruce finished for him with a lifted eyebrow, reaching around to fix the tie in place, tying it just right. “Isn't that classist?”
“What? No!” Clark asserted, tugging a little on the tie after Bruce finished and stepped away. Glancing in the mirror over the dresser in the hotel room, he fidgeted with the tie until it looked straight. “I didn't mean it like that, Bruce. I just don't look like me, is all.”
Shaking his head as he came back with the matching tux jacket, Bruce caught sight of the tie and let out a heavy breath. “Stop messing up my work. You've got it all crooked,” he insisted, tucking the jacket over his arm and reaching around again to help fix the thing. “Do you honestly think Lois wants to be swept off her feet by a hayseed in a plaid leisure suit?”
“Well, no, but-”
“No buts. There's your answer.” Satisfied at last that the tie was straight, Bruce held out the jacket to slide it up Clark's arms and over his shoulders, his friend shrugging it on easily. “Now,” he went on as he smoothed down the fabric, Clark inspecting the finished look in the mirror, “you're gonna get in there, and wine her, and dine her, and do the tango with her, and all that fancy stuff, and she's not gonna know what hit her.”
Clark stiffened, straightening slightly. “Tango?”
“Yeah,” Bruce answered slowly. “Don't tell me you've never....” But he trailed off, already knowing the answer, despite himself, and he smacked his forehead with a palm. “Of course you haven't. Did you seriously think you wouldn't have to dance at a charity ball?”
“Um....”
Bruce rolled his eyes. “All right. Come here. If you're gonna do this, then you at least need to know a few steps so you won't fall all over your date.”
But Clark's brows raised behind his glasses, and he remained rooted to the spot as Bruce lifted his arms in invitation. “Look, I'm sure I'll be fine. I don't need to-”
“Yes, you do. You've got the coordination and memory to pick it up in no time, and I've been dancing at these things since before my testicles dropped. Just, consider it a different sort of training, okay? Now get over here.” God, Clark could be such a big baby.
Finally, with a quick, deep breath, as if to fortify himself, Clark stepped away from the mirror and into Bruce's space. “Okay. Um, how do we-?”
A little fumbling, and Bruce arranged Clark's hands in the right places, one around his waist and one clasped tightly in his. “Like this. You're leading. The tango's a four-four beat, so keep that in mind. Now step out with your left foot, follow with the right, and I'll move along with you. Easy.”
Clearing his throat and decidedly not looking at Bruce as he started, Clark stepped to the left. “Oh,” he said, sounding surprised as their steps lined up together, the pair moving through the suite effortlessly as Bruce counted the steps under his breath.
“See? What'd I tell you? Now pause on the up-beat, and switch directions,” Bruce instructed, letting Clark do the work, broad hands supporting him as they moved through the turn to go back the other way. He couldn't help feeling a note of pride at the way Clark was picking up the steps, a touch of heat rising in his chest at their proximity.
And wasn't that new?
Catching Clark's gaze as they turned again, Bruce continuing to count the steps to keep them on track, he realized that his friend's cheeks had gone pink, a faint blush spreading over his face. Okay....
A few more steps, another turn, and-and there was no mistaking the sudden poke at Bruce's hip.
Oh!
Allowing himself a smirk at the absolute absurdity of the situation, Bruce instructed, “Now dip me.”
Clark froze, his eyes going wide, and the whole dance ground to a halt. “Wh-what?”
“Dip me. And loosen up. You're awfully... stiff.”
Sputtering, Clark tried to let go of Bruce completely, but Bruce tugged him closer, making it impossible for him to deny his current state.
“Is that kryptonite in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” he said, holding Clark's gaze for a long moment before finally dissolving onto giggles as he dropped his forehead to Clark's shoulder.
“Um....” was all Clark managed, his breath quickening, chest rising against Bruce's, and that wasn't exactly what Bruce had expected in reaction.
Drawing back, he pulled just slightly out of Clark's arms, suddenly too aware of the heat between them. “Wh-are you serious? You mean to tell me that that isn't just a normal male reaction to close contact?”
The look on Clark's face answered the question all too clearly.
“Well, say something!” Bruce sputtered, pushing a hand through his hair and staring, wide-eyed.
But Clark turned away, stepping back to the mirror to straighten his jacket and fiddle with his tie, that'd gone crooked again.
“What about Lois, for God's sake?” he went on, shoving his hands down in his pants pockets to keep from gripping Clark's shoulders to grab his attention. “This is nuts. You can't-and-and then-”
A sigh, and Clark finally turned back to face him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Bruce, what do you want me to say, here? That I'm confused? That I don't know why that happened? That maybe I'm just over-eager? Well, I'm sorry, none of that's true. I know what I want, I know why it happened, and I'm not over-eager. And yes, I still want Lois. I... I love her, all right? I can't help that I have...” pausing, he averted his surprisingly intense gaze, “...feelings for you, too. I just don't want you to think I'm a freak.”
Bruce just gaped, not quite able to process it all. It just wasn't possible, that Clark could love Lois and still return the feelings that Bruce would never had admitted to. Was it? He wasn't ready for this. Clark wasn't ready for this.
Or were they? The details and dynamics working themselves out in his head, he realized slowly that maybe... maybe there was a solution that Clark hadn't considered yet. Assuming he thought his options were one or none, and didn't that just sound like a dilemma Clark would agonize over?
“I'd better get downstairs,” Clark said then, suddenly going for the door to make his escape, and oh no, that was not happening.
Intercepting him before he could get that far, Bruce grabbed his shoulders and forced him to meet his eyes. “Hold on, Clark. You don't get to drop bombshells like that and then just... just walk away. Do you have any idea the kind of wrench you just threw into the works?”
Clark clenched his jaw, blowing a breath out his nose, and nodded curtly. “Yeah,” he said, “a really damn big one. Why do you think I didn't want to come to this thing in the first place, and didn't want to wear a tux? Do you have any idea what having your hands all over me did to me?” At Bruce's dark smirk, he huffed and shook his head. “Of course you do. Point is, I have to make a choice, and sometimes the best option is neither, because I don't want to hurt either of you. I knew I should've just let Perry send me to Paris to cover the G8 conference.”
At that, Bruce felt stricken, heat rising in his face as he realized he was right. “Are you positively insane? I mean, I don't see any Joker brand products lying around,” he said with a quick mock-glance around the room, “but clearly, you've lost your mind. What the hell makes you think that you have to make a choice or just give up altogether? You don't think Lois is capable of sharing? You don't think I'm capable of sharing? You think you're supposed to be better than this? Last time I checked, you were an alien, and look at me: I dress up as a giant goddamn Bat, for fuck's sake, you think my romantic sensibilities could possibly be normal?”
When Clark opened his mouth to protest, Bruce held up a hand to silence him. “I'm not through. Obviously, your time is spread pretty thin already, and so is mine, but you know Lois thinks I'm adorable-oh yes, she does,” he nodded seriously. “And between the three us, I'm pretty sure that everybody'd get enough attention.”
Blanching, Clark sucked in a gasp, and after a long moment of tense silence, his features softened somewhat. “Don't you think you ought to ask Lois, first, before you go making time share deals?”
At that, Bruce relaxed, his shoulders dropping and a grin moving over his face as he slid his hands down Clark's arms. “Tell you what. I'll set her up, and you go sweep her off her feet. Then I'll cut in, and we'll take it from there. What's the worst that can happen, a drink thrown in our faces?”
“A lot worse than that,” Clark pointed out, looking a little pale. “The last guy that crossed her walked away with a broken nose.”
“See?” Bruce said, brightening even more as he stood straight and smoothed down his own jacket. “You have the proper respect for her-she'll eat it up with a spoon.”
“She'll eat your spleen with a spoon,” Clark warned.
A grin, and Bruce moved in close to cup a hand around Clark's neck and draw him in for a firm kiss, their first, and damn, Clark tasted even better than he'd expected, melting against him easily as his hands slid around Bruce's waist. “I'd be honored if she did,” he breathed against those lips. “Hell, I'll get you a job at the Gotham Gazette if things go that sideways. But no matter what happens, you know I'd be honored to be in the fray with you.”
Clark actually huffed out a small laugh at that, resting his forehead against Bruce's. “It's not a battle, Bruce.”
“Exactly, Clark. Exactly.”
~*~*~*~