Chapter Text
Bruce sat anxiously in the League’s weekly meeting. Of course, he wasn’t outwardly anxious, or even anxious in the traditional sense. Most people tend to be anxious about their own safety, while Bruce was anxious of other’s. It wasn’t a secret that he didn’t like being separated from Gotham. So he sat there, wearing the stern gaze that he so often wore, and hid his anxieties (as he so often did).
He watched The Flash bounce his leg up and down, scrolling through his phone like a 15 year old in a geometry class. Part of Bruce (the fatherly side most likely) wanted to tell the kid to put his phone down, sit up and pay attention. He could tell Clark wasn’t very happy about it either. His gaze kept shifting to Barry’s phone, his brow knit together in a disapproving glare. (Not that Barry looked up from his phone to notice.) Bruce could see him contemplating burning a hole through his phone.
Maybe, Bruce thought, it was what he was taught by his parents. Taught him southern manners that emphasized respect. ‘No distractions at the table, always look people in the eye when they’re speaking to you. To do otherwise is disrespectful.’ Often he noticed Clark addressing people as “sir” and “ma’am” with a polite respect, a trait that let his civilian identity fall through the cracks. It was endearing, even he could admit that. At first Bruce thought it was an act he put on, similar to that of his own ‘playboy’ persona. But as he observed Clark, he realized it wasn’t just a persona; he really was raised as a polite, charming farm boy from Kansas.
Clark didn’t even know Bruce knew his civilian identity, nor did Barry. Of course, he’d known their civilian identities before he’d even met them. He had kept tabs on every alien, superhero and meta-human to emerge for years, and the League was no exception. However, no one in the League knew who Batman was, though he’d always assumed Clark looked under his mask using his X-ray vision and was just too polite to tell him he had done so.
His focus shifting between Barry and Clark continued until Barry (eyes still glued to his phone) clutched his chest, letting out a cry of what sounded like pain. Before Bruce could respond, Clark (ever the first responder he was) shot up asking quickly “What’s wrong? Flash? Are you okay?”
Barry’s focus on his phone broke, and he looked up at Clark, momentarily confused. Realization seemed to hit him all at once, then he said “Oh, yeah I’m fine. It was just a photo of Darci Mason.”
“God,” Clark sighed. “Just… don’t scare me like that again, Flash. Especially in the middle of a meeting.” His tone was more worried than aggravated. Bruce wondered where his never ending patience seemed to come from.
“Do you really think it’s appropriate to be looking at photos of instagram models during a meeting, Flash?” Bruce said, trying (and most likely failing) to keep his tone away from anything that could be described as ‘overbearing father’. As he got older he seemed to notice himself using this tone more and more, especially with people he cared about.
“Oh c’mon, Bats,” Flash said, clicking his phone off. “Lighten up. We were wrapping up anyway. I’m sure even you know what it’s like to have a celebrity crush.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Of course you don’t, you’re no fun. Am I right, you guys?” His question was met with silence. “So none of you have a celebrity crush?” Again, met with silence. “C’mon, what about you, Supes? You got one?”
Clark shifted in his seat. “No.” Lying wasn’t exactly his speciality.
“You totally do,” Flash said through a smug grin. “Who is it?”
“Aren’t we a little old for discussions about celebrity crushes?”
“You’re dodging the question.”
Clark flushed. Bruce didn’t even know he could do that. It was pretty, though Bruce pushed that thought to the back of his head. Finding your coworkers pretty when they blushed was hardly professional. But he couldn’t help but find himself now interested in the conversation. Who was it that made Superman so smitten?
“Okay yes, I have a celebrity crush. Satisfied?”
“Oh that’s hardly an answer,” Barry said. “Who is it?”
“Bruce Wayne.”
Bruce felt his heart rate go up, and he wondered if Clark could hear it. Clark had a crush on him? Or rather, his persona. (A persona based on his more… unhealthy coping mechanisms, but a persona all the same.) But why? There wasn’t anything appealing about it to someone like Clark, at least that’s what he thought. Bruce cleared his throat, hoping to clear any emotion that might be lingering in the next thing he said.
“You don’t exactly strike me as the playboy type, Superman.” He tried to keep a smirk off his face, and maintain his usual deadpan. He wasn’t sure he succeeded.
He watched Clark roll his eyes, “I just find him good looking is all.” He cleared his throat as well, a blush still visible on his cheeks. “He’s also extremely charitable. He doesn’t seem all bad.”
Flash was laughing at this point, the rest of the League had engaged in their own conversations or had already left. Bruce took it as a cue to do the same.
Clark occupied his thoughts that night, more often than he usually did (not that he thought of Clark more than an appropriate amount of time to be thinking about a coworker). Bruce had feelings for him, no matter how unexplored they were. Of course he was physically attracted to him, he could admit that. But he was physically attracted to a lot of people.
And that’s all Clark’s crush on Bruce Wayne was, he was sure of it. It wasn’t an overly complicated thing, they weren’t in love. It was just mutual physical attraction they would never act on, and Bruce would ensure that by making sure his identity remained a secret.
-
Perry didn’t like Clark, and Clark understood why. From the outside he seemed to be flaky at best, absent at worst and could almost be described as an unreliable worker. He wished it didn’t bother him as much as it did. He was being unfair to himself, he knew that. He knew that balancing a career and being Superman wasn’t exactly an easy task, and that it was better to slip up as Clark than it was to slip up as Kal-El. It still bugged him. Maybe it was his need for people to know they could count on him, or the work ethic his earthly father had given him. Whatever the reason, Clark felt as if he wasn’t doing enough at The Planet.
Clark was assigned yet another fluff piece. He was grateful to be assigned these fluff pieces, in all honesty. He couldn’t exactly write an unbiased article on LexCorp, or the repairs made to the buildings damaged by Superman and his latest battle with his foes, or The Justice League’s involvement with the U.S. military. He was happy to write about donations made to animal shelters or to interview hospital volunteers. He liked meeting good people, hearing what they had to say, learning why they did the good deeds they did. He often would meet people he found more heroic than himself. They didn’t have the advantage of being virtually indestructible, and yet they did everything they possibly could for others.
This specific fluff piece, however, was on a certain playboy billionaire from Gotham’s charitable donation to a hospital in Metropolis. This was a problem because Clark definitely had a small crush on him, often finding himself checking the tabloids, buying magazines with mention of him on the cover and indulging in other things that he otherwise wouldn’t do. Something about the man was compelling, almost familiar. Clark didn’t fully understand his feelings for Bruce Wayne, but he knew it wasn’t hurting anyone.
That was, until, he had an assignment to interview him at a charity event he was hosting. He sounds smart on paper, sure. And usually, he can give one hell of an interview, that even Lois said was wasted on fluff pieces. But around people he’s attracted to? He’d be lucky to get a single sentence out.
And on top of Clark’s inability to speak to people he found attractive, Bruce Wayne also happened to be known for being a particularly hard interview. He was quick witted, and often used it to deflect directly answering questions. Clark watched a few of his interviews (not that he hadn’t already seen most of them) the night before to prepare for however he might dodge his questions. He was sure Bruce was smarter than he let on. He’d crack a joke to avoid answering a question that would expose a side of him he didn’t want to be seen. He often referred to his charity events as ‘an excuse to get drunk’, when in reality the charity events would always contain a scandalous act of some kind to take away from the charity itself. It was like Bruce Wayne didn’t want people to see him for who he was: a good guy.
Clark wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, and Lois’s teasing wasn’t helping.
“Heard you get to interview your little boyfriend at a charity event tonight,” she remarked from the desk next to Clark’s.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ms. Lane.”
Lois laughed at the formality. She slung herself over the divider between their desks. “Oh c’mon, Kent. Loosen up a little. It’s not that different from your typical fluff pieces.”
Clark sighed, pushing the work in front of him away and looking up. “You of all people know for a fact that Bruce Wayne isn’t exactly an easy interview,” he said, thinking back to all the times she had complained about him dodging questions. Lois could twist just about anyone’s arm into answering questions, except Bruce Wayne’s.
“Yeah but you’re writing a piece on how charitable he is, not on whether or not he’s involved in the amount of high tech weaponry on the streets of Gotham. You’re just nervous because you think he’s pretty.”
“I don’t think he’s pretty,” he said unconvincingly, the attempt to hide his defensive tone failing. “I think he’s… interesting.”
“Clark, you look at his paparazzi photos. I’ve watched you read tabloid articles about him at your desk.”
Clark was embarrassed, and didn’t have any clever retorts. “Gee, Lois, have you ever tried minding your own business?”
“Never have, never will.” She smiled at him.
“Good luck on ever getting a Superman exclusive ever again Lane,” Clark said under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.
“Good luck on seducing Bruce Wayne.”
“I’m not gonna seduce anyone! i’m gonna go do my job! you should try it some time.” He sounded more defensive than he intended.
“Whatever you say, Kansas.”