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Summary
“You’re late.” Bruce told him, feigning a little scowl. “I sent you a text an hour ago.”
“Some of us have real jobs.” Clark tried his best to sound nonchalant. Bruce had clearly been waiting for him since a dinner engagement: he was still in a beautifully made tux, slim-fitting, bow-tie and all, the sharp line of his cuffs cut against gorgeously soft-looking white gloves. Clark was glad for the wool of his coat, as his trousers grew tight. Bruce would’ve made fun of him for that.
“Don’t I own the Daily Planet? Maybe the editor, whats-his-name, should just assign you to me full time. The Wayne Desk, they could call it.” Bruce smirked as Clark crowded him against the rail, circling an arm around the small of his back.
Series
- Part 4 of Code of Ethics