Guardian Angel - NC17 - Chloe/Bruce - Chapter Five
Title: Guardian Angel
Category: Smallville/Batman (Crossover)
Rating: NC17
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Pairing: Chloe/Bruce Wayne
Word Count: 2,092
Summary: Her guardian angel was a dark man with a fetish for rodents. Figures.
Previous: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four,
dhfreak
V.
She was nervous. Dressed to the nines, she stood in the background of the gala, surrounded by people she only knew on paper. At least in Metropolis, she had met the many people she was going to be interviewing. But here, tonight, her only job was to convince Bruce Wayne to give her a few quotes for a fluff piece in the Gazette. What a waste of a gorgeous dress.
The food was okay; since she'd been living off of microwavable dinners and whatever she had time to put together, it was nice to eat something cooked just right. She was currently in love with the cucumber sandwiches. While everyone else was chit-chatting about this or that and all the women seemed to be gossiping over Bruce Wayne, she was wondering how many of the mini sandwiches she could eat without looking like a pig. They were just so good.
Leaning against a wall, she chewed her sandwich and let her eyes wander the room. It was glamorous in that over-priced way that she couldn't help but think was a drastic and rather depressing difference from the outside streets of Gotham. While the high society types lived in high rise apartments, overlooking the skyscrapers and beautiful architecture, the regular people were living in crummy apartments, scared to go out at night. Ridiculous.
"Have you seen him yet?" came a sudden voice from her side.
She nearly dropped her sandwich, turning abruptly. "Julie?! I thought you were out for the week! It's the whole reason I'm here!"
"I am," she said before holding a handkerchief up to her face and blowing her nose.
Now that she really looked at her, Julie was in horrible shape. Her nose was bright red, her lips cracked, her eyes watery, and her skin pale. "Uh, maybe you should be home resting," she suggested.
"Oh definitely," she agreed. "But there was no way I was passing up a chance to see Bruce Wayne again." She sighed dreamily. "I don't care if this flu kills me, I wasn't staying home tonight." She sneezed, her expression tightening as she held her stomach.
"Are you sure? Because you look ready to throw up on the nicely arranged buffet."
Now she looked a little green. "I'm fine," she gasped out, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
"Right..." Chloe turned back around to face the crowd.
Suddenly the doors ahead opened and in walked the main attraction. She knew more because of how the women broke out whispering and pointing, touching their hair and rearranging their dresses, pushing up their breasts for more cleavage. She shook her head, rolling her eyes and turned to Julie to mention what she'd seen, only to see she was doing the same. Great...
She decided to wait for the attention to die down. The last thing she wanted to do was rush into the crowd and start asking questions like some fan of his. While he was being congratulated on this or that, she retrieved another sandwich, watching Julie rush off to the bathroom, holding her stomach. Poor Julie. Although, if she'd known she'd be here, Chloe would've stayed home and worked rather than get all dressed up to meet an overindulged billionaire. She briefly wondered if he'd be an Oliver or a Lex. Laughing to herself, she picked at the fruit plate and wondered how much longer it'd be before she could get a few quotes and get out. There was a nice, quick laptop waiting for her at home.
"Have you tried the cucumber sandwiches?" a deep voice asked.
"More times than I should have," she replied wryly before glancing up, only to find herself staring at the man she'd been waiting for all this time.
"Good, aren't they?"
She nodded. "Better than the crab."
He smiled slightly. Scratching his temple for a moment, he looked as if he wanted to ask her something.
Coming to her senses, she pulled out the tape recorder from her clutch. "Sorry to be abrupt, but uh, can I get a quote on the gala here. Chloe Sullivan for the Gotham Gazette."
His brows rose with something akin to understanding. "You're a reporter."
She nodded slowly. "Hence the tape recorder and request for a quote. It won't take more than a few minutes, tops." She lifted a shoulder. "Then you can get back to hobnobbing and I can get out of this dress."
He glanced down, eyes raking over her body. "Waste, really."
She felt a blush on her cheeks, but ducked her head. She knew his reputation; it wasn't so surprising that he'd compliment her. Instead of letting it go to her head, she turned her recorder on. "Mister Wayne, how are you enjoying the gala so far?"
He lifted a brow. "It's wonderful. I'm glad I could be of service for such a great cause."
She nodded. "You're raising money to help fix the potholes on 9th street, is that right?"
"Yes. The city has been... poorly taken care of." His lips pursed. "But I hope to help change that."
She smiled to herself. "Any idea on how much has been raised so far?"
He smirked. "Nearly enough. I plan to make up any difference and have 9th fixed as soon as possible."
She nodded. "Great. And can you just give me a quote on the people who helped put this all together?"
"They're great people. Some of the most hard working and generous citizens in all of Gotham."
She clicked the stop button. "Perfect. Thanks. Have a good night." She put away the recorder and turned to leave.
"That's all?" he asked, stopping her.
She turned back. "That's all I'm required to tape." She shrugged. "A quick fluff piece."
His brows furrowed. "That was the shortest interview of my life."
She chuckled. "What can I say? I'm good at my job."
He nodded before glancing away and then back at her. "Would you like to dance, Miss Sullivan?"
Her eyes widened. What? She hadn't been expecting that. The last thing she needed in her already complicated life was a billionaire with a scratch to itch, even if he was one very delicious number. He had a reputation and she didn't need to be noticed anymore than she had; it worked out better if she kept her head low and let her sleuth loose on the city without any romantic connections... He sure was handsome though.
"Not that I'm not flattered, but to be honest, my feet are killing me and I was hoping to sneak out with a few more of those sandwiches." Honesty was good; she'd been thinking just that before he decided to boggle her mind.
He grinned. "I'll have my caterer send you a whole platter." He held out a hand. "One dance?"
Tempting. The man and the sandwiches... What a dilemma!
She lifted a brow; stubborn as ever. "Isn't there somebody with less sore feet to accommodate your sudden dance urges?"
He glanced down, licking his lips in amusement before looking at her once more. His eyes were so dark, they reminded her of a starless night; blue and black warring for dominance. What was up with her? So a handsome man asked her for a dance; she was surrounded by good looking men all the time. Oliver Queen, Clark, Jimmy even had a quirky but handsome edge. This was no different; just another man. A tall, dark and utterly beautiful man...
His lips curled. "They aren't you."
He was good. Way too good.
She bit her lip before sighing. Catered cucumber perfection - that's all she had to keep telling herself. It was better than any take out or microwaved dinner, that's for sure. It was for greater eating habits, that was all.
"They are good sandwiches..." She took his proffered hand, which swallowed hers whole, and let him draw her out onto the floor.
His arm looped around her waist, large hand splayed across the small of her back while his other took hers and held it high in the air. She was surprised at the shiver that ran up her spine as she stood close to him. He smelled incredible; she couldn't help but breathe in the scent. She couldn't really hear the music; she wasn't sure what it was. All she knew was that her feet moved in sync with his as he danced them slowly around the floor. The silk of her dress slid along her curves with each movement as they twisted and turned.
"You said you were from the Gazette?" His brow furrowed.
"I'm the new head reporter. Transferred from the Daily Planet," she told him, following the sudden turn as she was directed sideways, her hip brushing his stomach before she was twisted back to facing him.
"Doesn't Julie usually handle these events for the Gazette?"
"She was sick... Still is." She smiled wryly. "She's currently interviewing the porcelain Gods." She lifted a shoulder. "She couldn't pass up a chance to see you again though, so I'm sure you'll spot her later on."
He half-smiled. "So what brings someone from the beauty of Metropolis to the darkness of Gotham?"
He twirled her suddenly and as she came to a stop face to face with him once more, she lifted a brow. "I wanted to make a name for myself and Gotham was always calling. So I packed up, moved over, and here I am. Dancing with Bruce Wayne." She shook her head. "Not what I expected in the least."
"Disappointed or happily surprised?"
"I plead the fifth," she replied. Was it just her or were they dancing much closer now? God, he certainly was nicely built, wasn't he? Through the expensive suit, she could tell he was toned and muscled to the very last inch of him. And handsome wasn't even the right word for his face; all rough angles and dark, brooding eyes. Lips that were far too sensual and smooth looking to be owned by a man.
"I could always make it worth your while..." He tipped his head. "I'm aware the Gazette hasn't yet had a full interview with me... Certainly a good boost for your new career."
"Don't take this the wrong way." She licked her lips. "But I'm an investigative reporter, Mr. Wayne and to be completely honest, writing about you would probably bore me to death. I don't care for the frivolity of excess; I'm here to write about what's wrong with Gotham and hope that somebody tries to right the problems."
He stared at her, lips curving with something akin to being proud.
He dipped her back, her body arching and when he drew her back up, she felt his hand skim along the revealed flesh of her back, forefinger dragging along her spine in a way that made her breath catch and her body tingle. Back on her feet, she found his face mere inches from his. "Thank you for the dance," he said, low and deep.
She nodded. "Just make sure the caterer gets those sandwiches to me," she replied, meaning to sound completely unmoved, but instead her voice was breathy.
He stepped back, picking up her hand to place a lingering kiss on top before he half-smiled at her and disappeared into the crowd.
Sighing, she shook her head. What in the world was that?
"I think you just caught the eye of a certain billionaire," came a voice to her side.
She turned, frowning at Julie as she stared after the retreating billionaire's figure longingly.
Julie sighed. "Lucky."
"Trust me," Chloe assured, "I didn't catch the eye of anyone." With that, she waved goodbye and left the gala, thankful that cab drivers had been hired specifically for the event so she wouldn't have to walk home in her heels and dress. She wasn't wearing nearly enough clothing to walk the cold and unsafe streets of Gotham.
She arrived home a short while later and went inside. She almost felt sad to have to take her dress off, but she stripped it away, pausing only for a moment when she swore she could smell the lingering scent of Bruce Wayne on the fabric. With a quick shake of her head, she put away the dress and everything that had happened while in it. She took a hot shower before dragging on a warm pair of pajamas and climbing into bed before grabbing the recorder from her clutch. She had a small fluff piece to hand in tomorrow. Nothing impressive, really. Nothing at all.
[ Next: Chapter Six.]