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Diana hears the footsteps before she fully registers the music.
"Move it," Batman's agitated voice comes from the same room as the music. She recognized that voice better than her own. He always had that gruffness to it, even more so when he was so clearly pissed off.
Despite the loud music, Diana hears several footsteps (definitely not quiet enough to be Batman's) coming from the room.
"I'm sorry, B, I'm-" another voice speaks up.
"An idiot?" Batman hisses.
She peeks around the corner to get a glimpse of what was going on. She covers her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Batman was leading Superman through some sort of dance.
"We've been at this for an hour, B. Can't we take a break?" Kal asks with a pout.
"No. Don't you have superhuman endurance?" Batman scoffs, taking Superman's hands in his again and beginning to step again.
"I do, but that's beside the point," Superman sighs. "I'm never going to get this on time. Especially since you're a bit-"
The Man of Steel winces when he steps on Batman's toes for the umpteenth time that night.
"I swear to God if you step on my boots again, Kansas, I'm going to forget to check Luthor's pockets for that Kryptonite he carries with him," the Dark Knight threatens, expertly leading him through some fancy dance of who's name Diana had no clue.
"You're awfully aggressive today is all I'm saying," Kal sighs.
"You have a date with Lois today, Superman. An actual date. And you two decided to slum it in a gala of all places."
"It's... a work date," his cheeks become a bright red to mimic his cape. "Not an actual-"
"You wouldn't be asking me for dancing lessons if it weren't a date," Bruce holds a hand out.
Diana reaches for her phone - a gift from Flash. Let's see if she remembered how to access the camera.
"Lead me through this one," Batman holds a hand out. "It's just six movements, Kansas. Try to remember them."
"So..." Superman's face stays the same shade of red, "I put my hands where?"
Bruce sighs, hanging his head in defeat. He takes a deep breath and grabs Kal's hand, placing it on his upper back just under his left shoulder. Clark grabs his other hand and the music loops.
Batman's movements are graceful as Superman leads him through the dance.
"Better," he comments and Diana bites her lip in amusement.
"Hey, Diana-!" she immediately turns and covers Flash's mouth with her free hand. She lets go and brings her index finger to her lips before pointing to the room.
Flash pokes his head around the corner and his eyes widen. Diana gestures to her phone and Flash scoffs.
He whispers, "You're not even recording..."
He presses the button on her screen and they watch as the dance finishes. Flash hangs his head with a silent groan.
"Okay, that was better. At least you didn't step on my toes again," Bruce mutters, lowering the music.
"That wasn't so bad," Clark rests his hands on his hips.
"Wait until you need to spin her," Bruce goes to sit, grabbing his water bottle from underneath the bench.
Kal freezes, eyes wide, "I need to spin her?"
Batman stands, patting his shoulder once, "It's not that hard. Just... stick to the steps for now, Kansas."
"Can we do it one more time?"
Bruce checks the time, "Fine. I have time. My monitor duty was over two minutes ago. Flash'll be coming soon."
"Two minutes ago?"
"He's always late," Bruce scowls.
"Not always," Clark takes his best friend's hand and guides him back to the clear space of the floor. Bruce scoffs but rests his hand on Kal's shoulder.
"Right. Because he'd pick today of all days to be early," Bruce sidesteps, following Superman's lead.
"You're a little slow with your left foot. Follow the tempo," Bruce instructs but lets Clark spin him. The Kryptonian was better at it than he thought.
"If you feel a little more confident when you're dancing with her move your hand here," Bruce murmurs, he grabs Clark's hand from where it was on his shoulder and lowers it to his waist. Clark takes that time to spin him again, his chest pressed against Bruce's back.
"Told you that it wasn't hard," the Bat looks over his shoulder.
Clark grins with pride.
Flash looks at Diana with a wide smile and a giggle and Diana shushes him.
Suddenly, Clark stops dancing, and Batman narrows his eyes.
Both men turn to the entrance, where there was a phone being held pointed at them.
Bruce reaches for his belt and throws a Batarang, but a gloved hand darts out from around the corner and recovers the phone.
"It's Diana and Flash," Kal crosses his arms. "The both of you can come out now. I told you that Flash can show up early.
Flash steps out, hands held up in surrender, "It was her idea."
Diana scoffs, slapping him upside the head, "Flash!"
"How much did you see?" Batman growls in Flash's direction.
The man pales and he looks away, a pout on his face, "Like... the last twenty minutes. If it's any consolation... you dance pretty... uh, good."
The glare he receives shuts him up.
"Give me the phone, Diana," Batman holds a hand out.
She raises an eyebrow, her blue eyes showing a hint of playfulness. Her lips curl into a smirk, "Or...?"
"Diana...!" Kal blushes again, hands going up to cover his face.
Two can play at that game.
Bruce crosses his arms, "Or the video of you flying right into a wall goes public, Princess."
"You wouldn't dare," she pulls the phone out of his reach when he attempts to make a grab at it.
"Try me," he returns the smirk.
"I thought you got rid of it...!"
"I uploaded it to the Batcomputer. It's definitely a mood lifter," he jokes in the same monotone voice. "I like to rewatch it on particularly tough days."
Diana stands still for several minutes, eyes searching Batman's face for any signs of a lie.
Then, she sighs and hands the phone over with a huff. Bruce makes quick work of deleting the potential blackmail material and any way of recovering it.
"The last thing I need is this getting out," he mutters.
"Oh, yeah. Nightwing and Robin would never let us live it down," Clark lets out a sigh of relief when Bruce presses the final 'delete' button.
He holds the phone out to Diana, who reaches out to grab it. Before she can, though, he pulls it out of her grasp, "On second thought..."
Batman gives it to Superman, who automatically crushes the small device.
"Hey!" the two other heroes yell.
"Just to be on the safe side," Batman lets his cape fall over his chest to cloak him in black. "I'll get you a new one by tomorrow, Princess."
He grabs his water bottle and leaves the room. Kal follows after him, feet hovering slightly as he wrings his hands.
~~~~~~
"I'm sorry about that," Clark lands behind Bruce's chair in the Batcave a few hours later.
"That is the last time I do anything like that," Bruce mutters, opening the files of his most recent case.
"What're you working on?"
"A recent kidnapping. No ransom yet," Batman looks across the screen, reading through the files.
"No evidence?"
"Hardly any. Probably done by a professional, but they got sloppy. There were hairs left on the window, likely the point of entrance and exit. The computer is running them through the system now," Batman finishes typing.
"You should get ready for the gala, Bruce," Clark rests a hand on his shoulder."
"I'm busy-"
"No, you're not. You're watching a progress bar on a computer screen."
"I'm trying to solve a case," he mutters.
Superman crosses his arms, "Yeah, right. This case will still be here when you get back. Alfred's calling for you, by the way."
He tilts his head slightly in the way he always did when he was using his superhearing. It was a mannerism of his, he liked to let people know when he was listening in most cases.
"He's asking you to get upstairs and change already. Your guests are supposed to be arriving soon," Clark tilts his head back and gives his best friend a look.
"You can think about it during the gala. Put on your suit-"
At the look Bruce gives him, he raises an eyebrow, "I mean your tuxedo. Put on your tux, B, and go to the gala. Let Brucie Wayne live a little."
"This is the first time you've ever encouraged my... other nightly activities," Bruce stands. He knows better than to ignore Alfred like that. "What's changed?"
"Well, Bruce Wayne hasn't been front page in a few weeks," Clark grins. "That and you really need to relax."
"That does not help me relax," Bruce mutters.
Clark pats him on the back, "I'll be there. Lois'll be there. It'll be fine."
"Because a billionaire spending the evening talking with two reporters is the ideal way to make the front page. For all I know, the two of you will oust me as Batman," Bruce walks to the nearby rooms and begins to change into his casual clothing.
"At least you'd make the front page," the Kryptonian chuckles.
"I'd very much rather just sit here and watch the progress bar," the Bat drawls.
~~~~~~
So maybe the night wasn't exactly as he had hoped. He was on his fourth glass of champagne (well, at least the fourth that he was pretending to drink), so he was already acting tipsy.
Jason had skipped out, so luckily he definitely wouldn't end up on the front page for being a terrible example for his son. At least not tonight.
"Well, well. If it isn't Bruce Wayne," comes a familiar voice from behind him.
He turns in a half-stumble and immediately catches sight of some wine-red heels. His eyes trail up her legs and dress. It was the same wine color, loose-fitting with a slit up one leg.
He reaches the woman's face and meets her familiar violet eyes.
"Ms. Lane. How wonderful to see you again after all this time," he gives his best Brucie grin. "Are you here for work?"
"Yes. Care to comment?" she gives him a smile.
"No, not really."
"You sure?" she raises a perfectly waxed eyebrow.
Bruce turns back to his champagne, "Oh, absolutely. Where's your date?"
"My date?"
Bruce's lips curl into a smirk, more Batman-esque than his previous one, "The one with glasses. I can't remember his name."
"Clark Kent?" she asks.
He shrugs, "Is he the one I met a few years ago?"
"Yeah, that's him," she sighs. "And I have no clue."
Bruce stops a waiter passing by and grabs another champagne flute, handing it off to the reporter.
"And he's not my date."
"Really? And here I thought dorky and heroic was absolutely your type."
"Who told you that lie?" she grins.
"Let's not lie. Superman is absolutely dorky. I should know," he scoffs. "And Clark is a reporter. I'm sure you'd agree that exposing the truth the way the Planet does is heroic."
"You wouldn't?"
"Absolutely not. But hey, I'm the outlier. You fell for dark, broody, and mysterious."
She hums, taking a sip of her champagne, "Don't forget handsome, rich, kind."
"Mm, yes. That helps," Bruce grins. "Though, I wouldn't let the press know that last bit."
"Takes away the mystery," she jokes.
"Exactly."
He flashes another billion-dollar smile just as Clark approaches, his blue eyes giving him a wary look from behind his dorky glasses.
"Ah, Mr. Kent! We were just talking about you," Bruce smirks, winking at the man.
The reporter's cheeks flush a bright red, "About what exactly...?"
"Oh, nothing bad, I assure you. Just reminiscing old times," he pats him on the shoulder. "I have to tell you though, Mr. Kent, you were a lot more... interesting before."
"Oh, Bruce," Lois scolds. "He doesn't mean that, Clark. He's drunk."
"Tipsy," Bruce corrects. "Nowhere near as drunk as I should be."
Clark clears his throat, "I was finishing my end of the story."
Bruce frowns when he sees the next few guests arrive.
"If you'd both excuse me. A host's work is never done," he kisses Lois on the cheek and shakes Clark's hand, shooting him one last knowing look.
Bruce begins walking towards the entrance, leaving the champagne on a nearby table.
He's fuming by the time he reaches the door, "Get out."
The group turns towards him and the man in the middle raises an eyebrow.
Bruce narrows his eyes into a glare.
Carmine Falcone.
"You have no business here. This is a charity function, Falcone," Bruce spits, acting way too sober for the several glasses of alcohol he supposedly had. "Leave."
"Now, now, Mr. Wayne," Falcone comes to the front of the pack, "that's no way to greet an old friend."
Bruce scowls, "You're no friend. You're a criminal, Falcone. One that has to harm innocents to gain power."
He chuckles and Bruce clenches his fists. Falcone reaches forward to clasp his shoulder, "Allegedly. That word is very important in the dictionaries of people like us."
Bruce shrugs his shoulder out of Falcone's grasp, "Get out."
"Bruce?"
He turns around to see both Lois and Clark behind him.
"Is everything alright?" Lois asks.
He frowns, but turns back to Falcone, who walks up to her and holds a hand out, "Of course, it is, Miss...?"
"Lane. Lois Lane, Daily Planet," she glances down at his hand.
"Lois, really, you shouldn't-"
"Now, now, Mr. Wayne. It's rude of you to interrupt. I know your darlin' parents taught you better than that."
Before Bruce can react (okay, maybe "punch" was a better word), there's a pair of strong arms around him and warm breaths against his ear.
"Bruce!" Lois calls.
"Bruce, calm down. Calm down. He isn't worth your time," Clark whispers against his ear. "Calm down. All of Gotham is watching."
Bruce doesn't struggle, and he finally registers the guns that Falcone's men took out.
Bruce throws Clark's arms off of him and straightens his back, his chest puffed out. The men all had their guns fixed on him.
"I don't like guns. You'd better tell your men to lower them before I stick them somewhere where they'll be hard-pressed to find," Bruce threatens.
"Ah, yes," Falcone hums. "My apologies. Boys."
They lower their guns, and Bruce turns back to Falcone, "Leave, Falcone. Now. Or I'll have you removed from the premises."
"We can't talk about this like grown-ups, Bruce?" Carmine's lip curls in disdain.
"There's nothing to talk about," he points to the door.
"Fine, fine. This won't be the last you see of me, Wayne. Believe me," he turns, heading towards the door. "There's plenty for us to discuss. You'll realize that soon enough."
His goons follow and Bruce only relaxes when Lois places a hand on his arm, "Bruce? Are you alright?"
He glances down at her, meeting her violet eyes for a brief moment, "Fine."
"What was that all about, then?" Clark asks, arms crossed. "If you don't mind giving a statement."
"No comment, Mr. Kent," Bruce takes a deep breath before turning back to Clark and his guests.
He smiles, his Brucie Wayne persona shining through, "Now, we came here for a reason, so why don't we continue to enjoy this beautiful evening?"
It doesn't take much after that for the people to continue their chatting and drinking.
Bruce grabs the arm of a nearby waiter and says, "Get me a single malt. Preferably Macallan."
When the waiter leaves, he turns back to the reporters, "I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me. I need to talk to Alfred and our event coordinators."
He adjusts his bowtie and Clark nods, "We understand, Mr. Wayne. Are you sure you're alright?"
"Always, Mr. Kent," he thanks the waiter when he returns with his drink. "As long as I have one of these on me."
"Cheers," he holds the glass up slightly, tipping it towards Clark and Lois before actually taking a sip.
"Mr. Kent, Ms. Lane. Always a pleasure," he excuses himself.
Once Bruce is out of earshot, Lois turns to her coworker, "Why would Carmine Falcone of all people show up here? It doesn't seem as simple as he was an uninvited guest that crashed the party."
"You think Wayne is dirty?" Clark cocks a (very) judgmental eyebrow.
"No. I don't think so. I know Bruce. He's good. He's a good man," Lois sighs. "It's the city. I tried to get him to leave but..."
She turns to watch Bruce as he speaks quietly with Alfred at the far end of the room.
"He loves this city too much to leave it behind. Even after all the pain it's caused him," she shakes her head.
When she sees Clark's face, her lips curl into a smile, "Just thinking out loud, Smallville."
The music changes to a familiar waltz and Clark spares a glance at his best friend, who simply raises his glass, most likely refilled by now, and winks.
He swallows down the fear and holds a hand out, "Care to dance?"
"You know how to waltz? Do they teach you that out in Smallville? It's a country thing?"
He laughs, "Oh, believe me. It's not a country thing."
She takes his hand and he guides her to the floor, where several other couples had already begun to dance.
Bruce watches from across the room as his best friend leads Lois in the waltz. He allows himself to smile a little.
He did well.
~~~~~~
"What're we watching?" John asks, walking in with J'onn and Hawkgirl.
"Diana caught Bats and Superman dancing together earlier," Flash explains from where he was sitting next to Wonder Woman.
Hawkgirl can't help the smile that spreads across her face, "Dancing? I didn't know they were together."
J'onn frowns slightly as he watches the video on the screen. Superman had the faintest hint of a smile, but his eyes were fully focused on their feet. Batman, on the other hand, seemed extremely frustrated.
"They're not," Flash shakes his head. "At least... I don't think so."
Diana looks over her shoulder, "Batman was teaching Superman how to dance for a date he had."
"Makes sense. How'd you keep this a secret?" John asks, fighting back a grin.
Flash and Diana share a look, "I was caught."
"Yeah, but she asked me to switch phones with her last minute. So a little superspeed-"
"And he sent the video to his phone, Batman deleted what he thought was the only copy, and Superman crushed his phone."
"He still owes me a phone," Flash huffs, arms crossed. "I was only meaning to send it to mine and let him crush yours but-"
"Why in Hera's name would I let him crush mine?" she scoffs.
J'onn watches Superman spin the Bat. His red eyes narrow slightly.
"I didn't know Superman couldn't dance," John hums. "Much less that Batman could."
"It's not that surprising. I mean... it's Batman," Hawkgirl shrugs. "Is there anything that man doesn't know?"
"Humility?" Diana suggests.
"I wouldn't be humble if I were him. I mean... it's Batman," Flash scoffs.
"I still don't understand what's so special about him," the Amazon says, pausing the video.
"Other than the fact that he's the World's Greatest Detective, a master martial artist, and an expert hacker?" John raises an eyebrow, his glowing green eyes meeting Diana's blue ones.
Hawkgirl crosses her arms, "Hey, the toys help, too."
J'onn presses his lips together, "Batman is kind and empathetic."
A hush settles over the rest of the League and they all turn to face the Martian, who continues, "He is intelligent and sees things that we cannot. He cares for all humans, though he does not regularly show it. He has trained himself to his peak, even without any special powers. He has no super-strength, telepathy, or the ability to fly. And yet, he stands beside us. He wishes to help those that cannot help themselves."
"You make it seem as if we do not do the same," Diana huffs.
Hawkgirl scoffs, arms still crossed, "That's not at all what he's saying."
"He's saying that Batman does it despite not having any powers," John tells her.
"Really? 'Cause to me, it sounded like J'onn is just worshipping his idol," Flash smiles widely, a chuckle escaping his lips.
Several of the other Leaguers chuckle and J'onn looks away in embarrassment.
"I think it's sweet," Hawkgirl assures the Martian before turning back to Wonder Woman. "And I definitely think that there's more to Batman than meets the eye."
"There's more to all of us than meets the eye," Flash shrugs, pressing play. "Maybe there is something there. Maybe he's the date."
"And Batman is just... teaching him to dance for their date?" Hawkgirl asks bluntly, obvious sarcasm in her voice. "Why on Earth would he do that?"
"They have known each other for years, Hawkgirl. Who knows how long they've probably been together," Flash tries and John huffs out a laugh.
"They are not together. Not romantically. They would have told us if they were, would they not?" the Martian speaks up.
"That's the hope. For any of us," Hawkgirl eyes Lantern, who doesn't seem to notice.
John frowns, "Yeah, we'd preferably need a non-fraternization policy-"
Wally groans, "Dude, how else am I supposed to..."
He trails off, glancing at Diana and Hawkgirl. The Thanagarian responds by threateningly patting her open hand with the handle of her mace. Flash bites his lip and turns back to the screen, the rest of his sentence left unsaid.
"Dating at the job leads to us not doing our jobs. We worry about each other out there instead of the civilians and people die," John's eyebrows furrow. "I get it, this job is lonely. But at the very least, it should be policy to let the rest of us know."
J'onn's eyes return to the video, where Superman was smiling as he danced with Batman. The human grabs Kal's hand from where it was placed on his shoulder. He lowers it to his waist, right over his belt.
His fists are clenched tightly at his sides when he sees the final spin. He quickly realizes and loosens his grip, instead crossing his arms.
The movements were fluid, their steps were in perfect sync with the music. Kal spins him quickly, bringing Batman's back to his chest in an added touch of flair.
"I highly suggest deleting this, Diana. It is a breach of trust and both will see it as such," J'onn tears his eyes away from the screen.
"Agreed," John reaches between Diana and Flash, bringing up the control panel. "I'd hate to see something happen to you to if Batman were to find out."
"If," the Amazon emphasizes.
"What part of World's Greatest Detective don't you understand, Princess?" Hawkgirl shakes her head.
John hits the delete button, erasing it from the League computer and database, as well as the connected phone, "The last thing we need is a blackmail feud."
"He has some on her," Flash protests, gesturing to Wonder Woman, who crosses her arms and glares at Lantern.
"You mean the surveillance footage of you flying headfirst into that wall?" Lantern asks, a mocking eyebrow raised. Hawkgirl laughs softly.
Diana's cheeks turn a light shade of pink and she huffs, "Of course he showed you."
"You just showed us a video of him," Hawkgirl reminds her. "He just so happened to have that video of you last week. And it was funny as hell."
J'onn looks at the monitor, the screen now black. The feeling coiled deep in his gut doesn't escape his notice.
He frowns and turns around, his blue cape billowing behind him as he leaves the room. The feeling, now heavy in his chest, makes his hands tremble slightly.
J'onn takes a deep, steadying breath.
Perhaps he just needed some rest.