Chapter Text
It was a mostly quiet night so far, a meeting had just been concluded in the Watchtower and some of the Justice League members stayed behind to talk amongst themselves. Bruce was looking over some data on the monitors across the room, not paying attention to them at all.
Until the sound of a familiar name caught his attention.
“Did you guys see the newest mess Bruce Wayne got himself into?” Wally said while sneakily (or speedily, but when you’re a speedster speed is basically sneaking) stealing chips from Hal every time he looked away.
Clark shot him a look that usually meant ‘stop being a menace’ and said: “It’s not really our business what our mysterious benefactor does with his free time.”
Oliver scoffed and parroted the words “‘Mysterious benefactor’” with air quotes. “There’s nothing mysterious about that manwhore of a rich brat, and it’s just as much our business as it is the business of the tabloids which he obviously loves appearing in.” he said somewhat bitterly.
Clark frowned and was about to retort, but before he could open his mouth Wally chuckled and replied: “Manwhore? Really? I’m not sure if you’re qualified to judge rich brats Ollie.”
“Hey, my rich brat persona is just an act, I’ve met Bruce Wayne and that guy is just a spoiled playboy, through and through. At least I’ve got depth.” he said with a grin.
Hal, previously preoccupied with the mystery of the disappearing chips, now decided to join the conversation, “He can’t be that shallow if he paid for the Watchtower, he must want to do some more good that just party and sleep with anything that breathes.”
Clark speaks up, ignoring the last part of the sentence: “Yeah, and he donates millions to charity, you could go a bit easier on him.” And, as if feeling that what he said wasn’t enough, he adds: “In fact, I will be attending one of his charity galas in just a couple of weeks and-”
“Guys, guys, guys! We’re getting off topic here,” interrupted Wally, “as I was saying before, our mysterious manwhore benefactor apparently got drunk at a party in Metropolis, flirted with almost every single attractive person there and then, trying to impress one particularly good-looking reporter,"
Clark's breath hitches slightly.
"he went to parachute off the balcony. Now the Metropolis police are supposedly keeping an eye on him because he could’ve seriously hurt someone if he had landed wrong.”
Clark’s heart was starting to do jumping jacks, and he thanked Rao that nobody else here had super-hearing, otherwise how could he explain what happens to his heart rate and breathing every time the so-called “playboy billionaire” is mentioned, let alone when he’s reminded of last night; watching Bruce fling himself over the railing and panic welling up in his chest because he was surrounded by people and he couldn’t just fly down after him. And the immediate flood of relief as he watched Bruce grab a string from under his suit, forcing his parachute open in the night sky above Metropolis.
Moments like those always make him curse his alter ego, even if it's just for a millisecond. Because if he hadn’t had a parachute, would his hesitation to throw away his secret identity have caused someone to lose their life? Cause Bruce to lose his life?
It’s not as if Clark harbors any extreme feelings towards the man, it’s just that he had interviewed him a few times for the Daily Planet and Bruce struck him as far more complex than the façade he wants the world to see. So what if he was maybe developing a crush? It also didn’t help that he was grateful to him for largely financing the entire League from what seems to be just the goodness of his heart. What helps even less than that though, was that the man was drop dead gorgeous and constantly flirted with anyone he could, including Clark.
He was snapped from his thoughts by Hal adding to the conversation once again: “If he’s really such a fuck-up and a party animal, why does he even bother helping the League?”
“Maybe he’s hoping he can get into Superman’s pants, or, suit or whatever.” Oliver added slyly, “after all, we already know he flings himself at every semi-attractive person, and what’s hotter than our superstrong, virtually perfect, beacon of justice? Besides me, of course.” he says the last part with a smirk.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Clark says maybe a bit faster than he intended, “I’m sure it’s not like that” he adds a bit more calmly, trying to force his slight blush to subside.
“Prove it.” was all that Oliver said and sat back in his chair, stretching his arms and entangling them behind the armrest.
Clark knew he shouldn’t take the bait, but he was already a tad too agitated to think straight. “What do you mean?”
Oliver smirked and glanced at him with a look that blatantly said ‘got you’ as he continued: “I will bet you fifty bucks that Bruce Wayne would jump your bones if you gave him the time of day.”
Wally piped up “Come on dude, there’s no way Supes would-”
“Fine, you have a deal”
And just like that, all eyes in the room were on him. He heard Batman cough in surprise across the room, he glanced at him, but as sudden as the surprise was, just as suddenly it was gone and the Bat had gone back to doing what he had been doing before, even if he seemed a bit more tense now. The reaction struck him as weird, but he didn’t feel like it was that important at the moment. He looked back at all the other wide eyes staring at him, instantly regretting what he had just said. But it was too late to take back his words.
“I’ve gotta go” he said before anyone could say anything more and sped off.