Guardian Angel - NC17 - Chloe/Bruce - Chapter Eleven
Title: Guardian Angel
Category: Smallville/Batman [Crossover]
Rating: NC17
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Pairing: Chloe/Bruce Wayne
Word Count: 2,636
Summary: Her guardian angel was a dark man with a fetish for rodents. Figures.
Previous: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten,
dhfreak
XI.
"Wow," she breathed.
The heavenly little cucumber sandwiches were behind her and some part of her had been worried that would be the highlight of the evening until Bruce directed her to stand at the rail and the yacht slowly circled the island upon which Gotham perched. From afar, with nothing but skyscrapers, lights, old and new architectures mixing, it was absolutely stunning. She felt his hands grip the rail on either side of her own and his front press against her back warmly. "I told you so," he murmured lowly against her ear.
Her eyes fluttered momentarily, her skin tingling, stomach fluttering. "It's hard to believe it can look so beautiful when you know what it's like to be standing in the middle of it at night."
"And what, Miss Sullivan, were you doing roaming Gotham streets at night?"
She glanced up at him, mouth quirked with a smile. "Searching for a story, of course." She turned so her back was against the rail, her elbows resting on it to keep her balance. She felt his thumbs brush against her arm and suppressed a shiver. "You remember our lunch the other day, when we exchanged all those dreams we had for Gotham?"
He nodded.
"Well those things won't happen just because we want them to or dream of it. Somebody had to get it started, has to stand up and tell the people out there that if they want it, they've got to help too. It's not Batman's job to go out there and save a city of people who don't even appreciate it. He picks up the slack but they let it get worse; too overwhelmed with fear to do anything." She shook her head. "When Harvey Dent was alive, he was doing something for this city and yes... It didn't turn out well. But that doesn't mean we should just stop. It doesn't mean we should let the city fall apart again."
His jaw twitched. "You realize by doing this you'll be painting a target on your back."
Her mouth curled. "You sound like someone I know."
He looked wary for a moment before gracing her with a smile. "Is that good or bad?"
She lifted a brow. "Very good."
"Good enough that I might convince you to dance?" He lifted one of her hands, thumb stroking the top of it.
She pretended to think it over. "I suppose I could allow you one dance, Mr. Wayne."
He took her out to the deck floor where the lights dimmed only to the small twinkling bulbs strung all over like Christmas lights. His hand found the small of her back, drawing her in close so that every movement had her front brushing against him. He lifted her other hand in the air, their fingers twined. "Alfred mentioned you've been having a few problems here in Gotham. Something about numerous muggings?" He cocked a brow.
She laughed. "It's nothing I can't handle." She shrugged. "Not even that unusual for me."
His brow furrowed. "What kind of life have you lived, Chloe?"
She twirled herself beneath his hand as she lifted it up and over her head and then slid close to him again, resting her hand on his shoulder. "A very interesting one," she told him simply.
"I have no doubt."
She licked her lips. "And you? When you're not showing reporters the beauty of Gotham, what are you doing?"
"Working," he told her, nodding. "Always."
"I'd tell you it'd make you a dull boy but I have the same problem." She grinned. "I love my work; it's dangerous and it'll probably be the very painful death of me, but..." She shook her head. "I wouldn't trade it in for a safe desk job any day."
He swayed them back and forth, turning them in circles as they danced all around the deck, his fingers drumming along the small of her back. Her dress felt infinitely thin against his touch, as if he'd somehow slid through the blue fabric, so dark it was practically black, to sear her skin with his touch. She and Alfred had gone shopping, him enjoying an Iced Cappuccino that he loved so much he bought another before they left. They stopped at the same boutique she'd been at when she picked up her banquet gown. She had a choice between three dresses; one was red, another green, and the last a magnificent shade of blue. Alfred had immediately grabbed the blue one and then shooed her away to the changing room. When she exited, both he and the sales girl had gawked before they shook hands and announced that she was getting it. She laughed, but agreed that she did look phenomenal. Now, however, she felt like she should be wearing five layers and a parka just to keep her senses about her.
She'd gone to Gotham for a career, for a new start, and now she was dancing with its most eligible bachelor, thoroughly entranced by his long fingers drawing shapes and circles along her back. What worried her more was that she felt no desire to stop him; she knew she should, she knew what she was doing was only going to confuse things, but she didn't move or pull away or make an excuse to go home. Instead she leaned a little further into him. God, he smelled wonderful too. And there was something about his broad form that was comforting and warm and all too attractive.
"Alfred also mentioned that you've met the Batman..." he murmured, voice full of curiosity.
She went rigid for only a second and then glanced up at him. "I've met him a few times," she said, shrugging as if it meant nothing.
"Guardian Angels only drop in to say hi and then disappear?"
She snorted. Once again a term she shouldn't have used comes back to bite her. "He's good at disappearing." She shrugged. "You'll be talking to him one second, turn to look at him, and he's gone."
He nodded, eyes turning away for a moment. "There are a lot of people looking for him, you know... Good and bad."
"Good's a relative word. If they knew what they were doing, and yes I mean the police force, then they'd leave Batman to do his work. Half of the precinct is on the mob's bill, why should anybody trust their judgment of a man who's gone out of his way to clean up Gotham as best as he can?"
His lips curled. "It's rare to find someone standing up for the Bat..."
"Well when I approve, I really approve." She shrugged.
"Should I be expecting a front page in-depth one-on-one interview between you and him anytime soon?"
She stared up into his dark eyes and then laughed. "Not only do I rarely do interviews unless they're with dirty politicians, but he would never agree. And on top of that, I'd prefer to keep my relation to him, if you could even call it that, completely unknown."
"Really? Why?"
She quirked a brow. "Because I don't want to be used against him or vice versa... He has his way of saving this city and I have mine... If we happen to run into each other some nights, then fine. But I won't become a hindrance to his cause, just like I hope he won't to mine."
Bruce nodded before suddenly twirling her once more and drawing her in so her back was pressed to his chest. One of his hands fell over her hip and hers covered it, while their other were still held up in the air, fingers twined. "Enough work... Tell me about yourself."
"What's there to tell?" She swayed back and forth, head falling to his shoulder. "Ask me a question."
"Siblings?"
"None. But I have a cousin that's practically a sister." She grinned. "Lois. She's back in Metropolis, calls almost every day to ask if I'm coming back." She laughed. "She's even threatened to move here with me."
"You must be close."
She nodded. "The closest."
"Parents?"
"My father's name is Gabe, he works a lot. Must be where I get it from. I haven't seen him in... too long." She shrugged slightly. "And my mother... My mother is Moira..."
"What got you interested in writing?" he wondered, letting her answer on her mother end there.
"I don't know. It's just always been a drive of mine. When I moved to Smallville from Metropolis, there always seemed to be something to write about. So I became the Editor of the paper and I filled it with everything you can think of. I had a very small, usually non-existent staff, so it was usually just me and my laptop." She shrugged. "The sports section was pretty sparse."
He chuckled.
She looked up at him. "Did you always want to run Wayne Industries?" she wondered.
He shook his head. "I can't really remember. It was always just there, waiting for me..." he smiled slightly. "It's not as if I ever planned to be a firefighter or jet pilot."
She grinned. "I don't know... I think you'd do those firefight calendars justice." She twirled herself back around and wrapped an arm around his neck, her eyes dancing as she heard his low, deep chuckle. "He does laugh."
He looked down at her, mouth still curved. "Perhaps you bring things out of me that I thought were long buried."
"Laughter and joy?" She shook her head. "We'll have to spend more time together, Bruce. You've yet to experience some incredible things."
He stared down at her, lifting a hand to brush her hair from her cheek. "I'm starting to realize that."
She felt her heart skip, her breathing stutter. She could feel the heat of him wrapping around her, as if pushing out the cool wind that flew past them as the yacht cut through the water with ease. She licked her lips, found herself wanting to lift up on her tip toes and taste those all too smooth looking lips of his. Before she could do just that, there was a clatter behind them and her head turned to see one of the waiters placing a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice. She let out a sigh and swallowed. "Thirsty?" she asked him.
He stared at her, nodding and then took her hand, leading her to the table once more and pouring them each a glass. As she took three long gulps, she hoped it would calm her nerves. His hand found her waist once more and directed her toward the back of the boat, where they leaned against the railing, side by side now. "You can see the stars out here," he told her.
She tipped her head back, eyes gazing up at the expanse of black littered with bright white stars. Standing in the middle of Gotham, there always seemed to be an eerie glow to the sky. It was as if the city itself had snuffed out the stars and replaced it with the glow of resonating evil. But from this vantage point, it was all so much more beautiful. She sighed, relaxing as the cool window skittered over her, blew her thin dress around her legs. One of her straps fell down her shoulder but before she could right it, she felt Bruce's finger against her shoulder. She turned her head, watched as it trailed up, placed the thin blue-black strap back in its place and then continued to draw circles of all sizes along her shoulder.
"If I kiss you, I have a feeling I'll never be able to leave you alone..." he murmured. "And that promise I made about never disturbing you or your work will more than likely be completely out the window."
She laughed, staring up at him with wide green eyes. "Maybe we shouldn't then... Could be better if we just-"
He cut her off by swooping forward and slanting his lips across hers. She nearly lost her balance not from the suddenness of it all, but because it was entirely knee-weakening. She accidentally dropped her champagne glass to the floor, but neither of them drew away even as it shattered. His arm wrapped around her waist, drew her up close and tight. Her hand buried in his hair, tightening in soft black strands. His mouth was heated and rough, those lips just as soft as she expected but meeting hers with a passion she'd never experienced before. His tongue trailed across her lips and she parted her mouth immediately, moaning as their tongues tangled, met and danced together. The need for air tightened her lungs but she refused to draw away. Their noses brushed, his hand tightened around her far hip, squeezing, and she found herself thinking that it was too fast, too consuming, and that hot, hot sex Lois suggested she have was very much a good idea that she'd better not go through with. Yet.
His hands spread out along her back and slid up her spine, making her arch, her form pressing into his body so tight she wasn't sure where she began and he ended. They gasped for air with each slant of their lips back and forth. She felt her hair knocked out of its perfect condition as one of his hands buried in it, holding tight, kneading the back of her neck. She gripped his shoulders, fingers curling tight, sliding up to his neck, tugging at his collar and lightly scraping down his neck. She grinned into their kiss as he shivered, growling before he turned her around, pressing her against the railing. There was something rough and yet still tender about Bruce Wayne in that moment. His mouth so possessive and deep against her own while his hands were gently kneading her shoulders and down her back, letting her hair flow down in a mess around her shoulders after releasing it from the confines she'd had it up in.
She barely knew him; she knew that. So there was no reason for there to be such passion and intensity between them, not really. But she welcomed his hands against her as if she'd been waiting and wanting them for so long. She met his mouth with equal fervor as if lost lovers finally kissing in reunion. It was too fast, too deep, but she couldn't stop herself. Her stomach tightened, her heart pounded in her ears and her skin tingled from head to toe. And then suddenly, there was an explosion, huge and loud and violently rocking the island not so far from them. Their mouths parted abruptly, swollen, but their eyes were set on the huge ball of fire in the distance where the harbor used to be. Their brows rose and they glanced at each other, still wrapped in each other's arms.
"We should go back," he said, his jaw twitching.
She nodded. She just found something to write in the paper to hold the people and her editor over until she was done on the big crime expose she was writing in the safety of her home.
Her head fell to the side, leaning against Bruce's shoulder as she watched the fire reach for the eerie dark sky hanging above Gotham, yellow and orange flames licking violently. She just knew that later that night, after she'd changed out of her gown and pulled on her sneakers, she'd get down there to see people tossing more and more things into the fire just to keep it going, to keep the chaos alive; and above it all, watching on with dark, suspicious eyes would be Batman. She wasn't sure how to feel about wanting to see him again, even as she stood in the warm, bracing arms of Bruce.
[ Next: Chapter Twelve.]