Chapter Text
Sighing dreamily, Clark zoomed in on the picture SmileWatch had posted this morning. His eyes roamed over the chin-length dark hair, carelessly pushed back by long, elegant fingers. The perfectly shaped eyebrows, the right one of which was bisected by a tiny scar. Those irresistible icy blue eyes that twinkled with mirth above the aristocratic nose that had been broken at least once and was adorably scrunched up mid-laughter. But the best thing, the thing that drew Clark's eyes and made his heart race, was the broad, dimpled smile that split Bruce Wayne's handsome face as he sat across from his kids at some kind of restaurant. It was a rare photo of all of them together and the joy of the moment practically shone out of Bruce's expression, made it seem radiant.
“Did he get that restraining order against you yet?”
“Haha, very funny, Lo.” Clark rolled his eyes but didn't bother trying to hide the picture or even turn around. He'd long since lost any semblance of shame where his crush on Bruce Wayne was concerned. Ever since Harry from sports had wanted to quickly look something up on Clark's computer six months ago only to stumble upon an entire folder filled with dozens and dozens of pictures of Bruce Wayne and then announced that fact to the entire office, Clark had pretty much given up on the concept of shame. He was used to the teasing and even thought it was pretty funny most of the time. He eyed the coffee mug with Bruce's face on it that sat next to his mousepad. It even saved him money sometimes.
Lois set her bag down on her desk, which was located directly next to Clark's, a teasing smile on her face. “You know he's going to be in Metropolis tonight. Got any plans?”
Clark's heart actually skipped a beat and his eyes involuntarily strayed back to the picture SmileWatch had posted. Even though he knew it was ridiculous because Bruce never left the hotel when he came to the city, Clark hadn't been able to stop himself from dreaming up more than one scenario of how they could run into each other and get to talking. He quickly looked away as he felt his neck grow hot and cleared his throat. Maybe he still had some shame left, after all. “Don't be ridiculous, Lo.”
“I'm not. Cat has called in sick and if you had looked at your emails instead of Brucie's pretty face you'd know Perry has called for a meeting to divvy up her work. Including the coverage for the annual Metropolis Children's Hospital Easter Gala tonight.”
Before Clark could retort that there was no way Perry would assign him of all people the gala coverage, Harry from sports appeared on Clark's other side, grinning like a child. “You might want to use your lunch break to buy a new suit, Kent. After all, you want to look nice for your future husband.”
Clark smiled, a little caught off-guard. “Good morning to you too, Harry.”
“Don’t be like that. I’m just saying - this might be your chance!” Harry grinned brightly and encouragingly patted Clark on the shoulder before finally turning away. Likely to hang around the breakroom and chat for a while.
“He’s not wrong, Smallville.”
Clark exhaled noisily and shook his head. “Can we please change the subject? I’m not going to the gala and I’m not going to marry Bruce Wayne.” No matter how much I might want to , he added to himself and just thinking that made butterflies dance through his stomach. So Clark resolved to focus on his work, starting with checking his emails.
By the time the meeting rolled around an hour later, Clark had achieved absolutely nothing. Every person in the office had come up to him to comment on the gala being his chance to finally woo Bruce Wayne in one way or another and wish him good luck. A part of Clark thought it was sweet that his coworkers cared enough to joke around with him like this and enjoyed the smiles and laughter the topic wrought. But the bigger part of him was starting to get annoyed. Mostly because each person's comments just served to fuel Clark's imagination, served to irrationally get his hopes up when he knew how ridiculous that was. Even if Perry did assign him the event for some reason - which he wouldn't - Clark wasn't Bruce's type. At all. So he'd just end up disappointed in the end anyway.
Wedging himself into the uncomfortable fake leather and chrome contraption of a chair in the conference room - it was too narrow to really fit him - Clark let his mind wander and didn't pay too much attention to the meeting. He mentally began to outline his next article on affordable housing projects near the docks and jotted down a few notes throughout.
Until he heard Perry mention his name.
Startled, Clark looked up only to find the entire staff looking shocked. He swallowed, a sense of foreboding scraping at the back of his ribs. “I'm sorry, Chief. Could you repeat that?”
Storm clouds gathered behind Perry's eyes. He hated nothing more than repeating himself. “Dammit, Kent! Pay attention! The gala starts at eight and I want you to be prepared. If that Vicky Vale from Gotham steals the story out from under our noses again this year I'm docking your pay!”
“But Chief…I don't cover these types of events. How would I even know–”
“Don't give me that shit! I know you've got all of those celebrity rags bookmarked on your computer, which means you know more than the rest of this lot.” He sent a dirty look around the conference table that had, for once, zero effect because by now everyone was desperately trying not to laugh at Clark. “Now get to work, all of you!”
Clark found his way back to his desk on autopilot. His brain was still offline, struggling to understand what on earth had just happened, and the only thing going through his mind on repeat was: I'm going to see Bruce Wayne tonight .
He felt faint.
“Looks like you've got plans for the evening after all”, commented Lois as she came to stand next to Clark, but her smug expression immediately morphed into one of concern when she saw Clark's face. “What's wrong?”
“I can't do this, Lo”, whispered Clark and even to his own ears he sounded panicky. “I can't go to that Gala, I can't cover the event. I don't even know what to wear!”
“Relax, Smallville. You've got this.” Lois laid a comforting hand on Clark's shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Perry wouldn't set you up. You're a great reporter. So what if your story tonight will revolve around clothes you know nothing about, boring real estate acquisitions, new albums and affairs and whatever else the rich and famous get up to? You can do this! And who knows? Maybe you'll even catch Brucie's attention while you’re at it!”
Clark's stomach did a traitorous little flip and he hurriedly squashed the feeling. He vigorously shook his head. “No way. Have you seen the people he usually goes out with?”
Lois frowned but before she could say anything, Maggie from finance suddenly piped up. Clark had been so preoccupied he hadn't even noticed her approach. “Don't sell yourself short, Clark. Just because you're not a model or an actor doesn't mean you don't have a lot to offer.”
While Clark was still busy deciding whether that was a compliment or not, Maggie stepped closer and only now did he notice the little parcel she was holding. She smiled and held it out to him. “Here. Jeremy made this for you as a thank-you for helping him with his essay the other day.”
“That's very sweet of him”, said Clark, a little perplexed by the change in subject. Until he opened the small parcel and realized there was an ‘I <3 Bruce Wayne’-keychain inside. Next to him, Lois practically vibrated with suppressed laughter. Maggie smiled, told him to make Bruce Wayne realize what he was missing, and made her way back to her desk. As soon as she was out of earshot, Lois lost it and doubled over in laughter while Clark buried his head in his hands.
The worst thing, he thought despairingly, was that the keychain was actually rather nice.
And he still didn't know what to wear.
Clark crossed his arms, eying the suits he owned critically. Perry had sent him home shortly after the meeting, telling him to prepare and “for the love of God, Kent, go buy yourself a decent suit!” Which… Clark really wanted to do, but couldn't. It wasn't just that he didn't have the money because the planet would reimburse him for the expense. No, what threw a wrench in his plans of actually looking good in a suit for once was Superman. The unassuming and slightly dorky dress style he’d adopted was part of his disguise. He couldn't draw too much attention. The entire point of his wardrobe was to blend into the background, be forgettable. Ironically enough that was the last thing Clark wanted to be tonight. Just thinking about the fact that he'd come face to face with Bruce Wayne in just a few hours, that he'd be talking to him, made Clark's heart race in excitement. However, one look at his wardrobe inevitably soured the feeling. There was no way Bruce would even look twice at him among all the glitz and glamor.
With a sigh Clark adjusted the towel around his waist and grabbed the tan plaid suit he'd worn to his parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary last year. Like everything else he owned, it was on the cheap side and fit a bit too loosely, but it was the nicest one he had by far.
After deciding on what to wear, Clark took a long look at himself in the mirror, debating with himself. On one hand, the disheveled curls, just like the glasses, helped to draw attention away from his actual features and thus provided an extra layer of protection. On the other hand…
On the other hand Clark was about to meet Bruce Wayne and the memory of those light blue eyes creased with happiness was enough to make him feel weak in the knees. So Clark caved and booted up his computer, looking up how to style curly hair on men. He wasn't looking for anything too fancy. Just something to maybe bring a bit of order into the chaos that was his hair.
About two hours later Clark stood in front of the mirror, wielding a wide-toothed comb and a tub of styling gel, both of which he'd gone out and bought for way too much money. As he set about styling his hair his eyes kept straying to the posters he'd stuck to his wall and their reflections seemed to be mocking him from their place above his bed. He was kidding himself and he knew it. He'd seen the people Bruce usually went out with. They were most definitely nothing like him. They were gorgeous, successful, flawless. And Clark would bet money that none of them had posters of Bruce adorning their bedroom walls.
Or a mug with his face on it.
Or a keychain.
And yet he couldn't bring himself not to at least try because he remembered it perfectly, the day he'd fallen for Bruce Wayne.
He'd been sent to Gotham on a lackluster assignment involving the transit system between the two cities. He’d gone to interview the people involved with the opening of the new rail route as well as the residents of the area the connecting bridge was to be built in. Among all the places Clark had visited that week had been a youth center. He’d set up an appointment with the woman running the center and she’d given him a tour of the building as they’d talked, trying to get Clark to mention the center in his article and bring attention to the work they did there.
As they’d passed through the yard the sound of a boy crying had reached Clark’s ears and as he’d turned to look what had happened, his entire world had shifted, corny as it sounded. Because there his eyes had found Bruce Wayne, clearly fresh from a business meeting of some kind in his expensive suit and with his perfectly styled hair and he hadn’t even hesitated to drop to his knees on the muddy ground to check the little boy over and cheer him up. As Clark had watched Bruce draw a laugh out of the distressed child, the woman in charge had told him that Bruce volunteered at the shelter regularly and that the children loved him. As if to prove her words, Bruce had shed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and had chased the kid around the yard, laughing all the while. Other kids had joined in and soon the man had been surrounded by happily shrieking children.
And Clark had lost his heart.
At first he’d expected his infatuation to fade with time but it only grew stronger instead because once Clark had started to pay more attention to Bruce he’d all realized the amazing things the man did for Gotham and its people without ever demanding credit for them. By now Clark had accepted that his feelings wouldn’t change. But he’d also accepted that nothing would ever come of them. The mere thought was ridiculous.
So he'd begun to surround himself with the next best thing and had started to collect posters and magazines and everything else Bruce Wayne and it was also why he loved SmileWatch so much. Whoever managed the social media account seemed to have a similar view of Bruce as Clark did and always posted shots of him interacting with children or helping the people of Gotham, calling attention to how amazing the man truly was.
Clark grimaced a little. He sounded like a stalker.
Giving his hair one last critical look and carefully smoothing his fingers through his curls to loosen the style up a little, he turned away from the mirror and got dressed. His eyes flickered to the alarm clock on his dresser. Two hours, he thought, a mixture of trepidation and excitement tightening his stomach. Two hours and then he’d be in the same room as Bruce Wayne, maybe even talking to him.
Clark had no idea how he was supposed to survive the night.