Chapter Text
Brucie Wayne was, to say the least, suave, his tuxedo was immaculate, his smile was effortless, his laugh perfectly pitched to whatever conversation he was having. Every donor got exactly the right amount of charm, all cameras got his best angle.
Every politician left believing Bruce Wayne had been genuinely fascinated by tax incentives and their incompetent employees.
Clark let his gaze follow Bruce as he drift through another circle of guests, laughing at something an aging movie producer had said.
Clark gave a sigh, preparing himself before he began the walk over to Mr. Wayne.
Another reporter intercepted him before Clark could make his way over to interview him.
"Bruce! Quick question about the foundation's international expansion—"
"My favorite kind of question." Bruce grinned broadly. "The quick kind."
The surrounding reporters laughed at his amiable smile and charismatic nature.
Bruce answered three questions without actually saying anything of substance, complimented someone's tie, somehow remembered the name of a donor's dog, posed for photographs, and accepted another flute of champagne he didn't appear to drink.
It was like watching someone juggle chainsaws, but he made it look so easy.
Then Bruce's eyes landed on Clark from across the ballroom.
Clark desperately tried to avoid eye contact, flushing red and turning away to hide, unfortunately being six foot five and built like a linebacker makes you stick out with relative ease, he hoped Bruce would wouldn’t come over.
But Bruce was on a mission.
With an effortless gesture of his hand, silently excusing himself
"Is there something I can offer, or are you planning on gaping at me all night?"
Clark looked behind himself.
Bruce was definitely talking to him.
He gulped.
Shit he was smooth.
Unfortunately, so did everyone else.
Half a dozen reporters immediately turned.
"Bruce, one more question—"
"Mr. Wayne, can we discuss the merger rumors?"
"Bruce, over here!"
Bruce sighed theatrically.
"Ladies, gentlemen! You're all wonderful,”
He pressed a hand dramatically to his heart.
"I adore each and every one of you."
A few people laughed.
"But if I answer one more question about stock prices," Bruce continued mournfully, "Alfred has strict instructions to tranquilize me."
The room echoed with laughter.
Bruce seized the opening, taking Clark by the blazer sleeve and dragging him around the nearby corner and into a smaller room.
A smaller bar, the room was big enough to fit a few booths and a nice dark oak bar top, complete with quartz tiling over top.
The room was decorated with rich velvet carpeting and mahogany walls, sleek leather booths and the few black bar stools that lined the bench.
Clark looked around hesitantly, trying not to sweat bullets in front of the infamous playboy that was Bruce Wayne.
"Are we even allowed in here?…” He whispered, as if he were telling a secret.
“We should be. I own the building.” Bruce replied stoically, as if talking about something as mundane as the weather.
“Oh.”
He walked directly toward Clark, he stopped a few inches away and cocked his head to the left before giving an amused look.
“Your tie.”
“What about my tie?”
“It’s crooked.”
"Oh?-..It is?"
Bruce nodded before reaching up to adjust Clark’s wonky tie.
Clark turned his head to look away, swallowing with a slightly audible gulp as his cheeks dusted a soft pink.
They were mere inches away from each other’s face, up close Clark could see all the details of Bruce’s face.
The faint mole under his left eye, the defining jawline, how his chin was brushed with the hint of a recently shaved stubble, those dull yet beautiful blue eyes…
Clark was getting distracted.
Bruce loosened his own bow tie by half an inch, sighing in relief as he did so.
Clark watched Bruce’s hands as they loosened the bow tie around his neck, because wow, Clark would absolutely not mind having those hands on him- focus Clark!
Bruce caught the reaction instantly and a wicked grin spread across his face.
"Can a man not loosen his tie without it being seen as scandalous, Mr Kent?”
Ohhh shit.
"O-Oh, no, not at all, sir- Mr Wayne."
"Bruce"
"W-what?"
“Call me Bruce.”
"Right, of course Mr Wayn- Bruce."
Bruce chuckled and glanced to the door, checking they were alone, he turned back to the flustered reporter and raised a brow
“Has anyone ever told you have a celebrity doppelgänger, Mr Kent?” Bruce mused with a small tug of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.
Clark went pale.
Fuck.
FUCK!
Oh Rao, Kal-El, act natural.
"Oh?- no, no one’s ever said anything, haha..." He gulped. Curse him for being so bad at lying!
"Really? Personally, you do bear a striking resemblance to that Metropolis meta, Superman" Bruce said, strolling closer with infuriating ease, "I’d take that as a compliment, Mr Kent, I’d give anything to get my hands on that hero."
Clark went bright red.
Bruce stopped right in front of him, their chests practically touching, though Bruce being a few inches shorter of course.
"Oh- me? Pffft, Superman doesn’t look like me”
"I beg to differ, but if you insist..."
Silence settled between the two for a moment before Bruce turned up the Brucie charm to one hundred, looking up at Clark, he gave a cheeky smile and asked.
"Clark, can I call you Clark?” Bruce asked but continued on, not waiting for an answer. “I see Superman as a rather attractive guy, and here I am, standing in front of a man who happens to look exactly like him, only a little dorkier,”
Bruce let his hands tentatively roam up Clark’s blazer sleeves and up to his shoulders where he allowed himself to loop his arms around the reporter’s neck.
If Clark was red before, then he was a tomato now.
Bruce continued, his voice dropping into a flirty yet conspiratorial whisper; “And so, I ask, would you care to indulge me?”
What kind of test were the gods putting him through?
He paused before swallowing (embarrassingly) loudly and nodded far too eagerly.
Bruce huffed in amusement, leaning up so he could capture Clark’s lips in a kiss.
Oh Rao, he was so screwed…
Clark melted into the kiss and reciprocated, quickly leaning down to meet Bruce’s mouth in a rather sweet manner.
As the kiss continued, Clark was too engrossed in the feeling of Bruce’s soft lips and faint stubble to notice the other man hooking off his glasses.
He only realised when it was too late.
Bruce pulled away from the kiss with a smirk, glasses in hand and said something Clark would have never expected.
“You’re as much of a Boy Scout when kissing as I expected, Kal.”
Bruce fucking Wayne knew his birth name?!-
Wait, Boy Scout? There was only one person who called him that…
No fucking way.
Clark sputtered in both confusion and embarrassment and a whirlwind of other emotions he couldn’t name.
“You?- What?! Y-you’re?”
Bruce simply put a hand on his hip and smirked.
“Heard you mention to Hal and Barry you had a bit of a crush on Mr Wayne. Thought I’d indulge you.”
That sneaky mother fucker.