Chapter Text
“And I have just one more question, Mr Wayne.” Bruce had agreed to a fifteen minute interview. Lois had been in his office for well past forty, but time flew, talking with her was fun.
“Lois, for the last time can’t you call me Bruce? For old time’s sake?” Maybe not as fun as it used to be, far more structured and formal at the very least.
“This is on the record Mr Wayne.”
“I can’t want it on the record that you used to call me Bruce?” He grinned, then tilted his head confused when she turned off her recorder. “Is that a No?”
“Bruce, Perry has just started letting me take Gotham stories again. I can’t write ten things you never knew about my EX.”
“This might surprise you, but my first name isn’t a luxury exclusive to my current paramour.” That got a bit of an eye roll from Lois. “I’m just saying . . . you don’t have to pretend we aren’t friendly. We are . . . still friendly right?”
Maybe time had flown so quickly because Bruce had been trying to learn as much as he could about Lois’ life since they broke it off. He missed her, was curious what she was up to. He wanted to compliment her on the triathlon she’d been training for. He wanted to ask her if she’d been banned from any karaoke bars without him. Nothing that was paper worthy per se but subjects that needed addressing.
“We are, I just needed some distance. So I could get the beat back.”
“For the beat.” Bruce didn't believe that was the only reason she needed distance but he accepted it. “Gotham is where the real news is made so I can't blame you for taking drastic measures.”
“Speaking of news.” Something a little mischievous lit up in Lois’ eyes, Bruce wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad thing, he was excited to know either way. “Final question Bruce-” They shared a smile as she clicked her recorder back on. “At the press conference you held, about installing panic buttons around Gotham where the out of commission payphones are-”
“That’s going well-” Bruce leaned in. “For the record.”
“That’s great.” Lois gave him a small proud smile. “Something I noticed, outside of your ingenuity, was that your eyes seemed glued to one of my colleagues: Clark Kent.”
‘I knew she'd catch that.’
The thing about Kent was simple really. He was Superman.
Bruce had done a reverse timeline of Superman sightings after their last interaction. Currently there was no pattern, just a hero doing good anywhere he could and he could go anywhere.
A few months ago Superman only responded to situations in the United States. A year ago he only responded to New Jersey crimes. The year before that he didn't venture outside of Metropolis. Where things got really interesting was when you went back to Superman year one.
There were three distinct clusters within that first year. By December he’d cover crimes within a thirty mile radius of the Daily planet. By august twenty miles of the midtown borough. The earliest sightings of Superman: small deeds and feats by a blue blur, occurred within a ten mile radius of Kent's apartment on Clinton street. Bruce had to piece together the earliest data from tabloids, blog posts, and eye witness accounts. There was a fine line between a meta and a cryptid before you had a face and a name.
The comfort of home, plus Kent's matching age, build and vocabulary made the reporter a good suspect. The only hiccup was Kent's face. Bruce's computer said it was only a sixty percent match, which put him in the same pool with nine percent of the Metropolis male population. Though computers could be easily fooled. Bruce thought his gut had a better batting average.
He spent the entirety of the press conference off and on staring at Kent. Trying to confirm that he was on the right track. At first he thought himself validated, but the more he focused, the better look he got of the man, he kept noticing differences. His eyes were a darker blue and set less wide, his ears were rounder, his chin a little softer, his hair more wavy. It wasn't that Bruce was wrong at first. It was that Clark's face changed. Bruce saw it happen in real time.
What else was the alien capable of? How was he able to accomplish this on both a the pixel and naked eye spectrum? Was it safe to let the alien alter reality like that? It was alarming, distracting. It held Bruce's eye the whole conference.
“I got lost in his eyes. Happens to the best of us right?”
Did Lois notice it too? She had more means and opportunity to compare and contrast Kent and Kal-El than he did. Or had the constant exposure to what the Kryptonian enlisted to hide in plain sight blinded one of the world's most eagle eyed reporters?
“Lost in his eyes? Kent?” Lois seemed to find the claim more entertaining than damning. “I’ve never heard you compliment a man like that before.” Lois had heard Bruce mention men as attractive, she knew about his relationship with Harvey right before he ditched college life. “Normally it’s the other way around.”
‘Sharp as ever.’
Lois knew that Bruce's romantic patterns showed he pursued women and was pursued by men. It was no hard rule, but it’s how the cards had fallen when it came to his love life. To her it was out of character for him to be making eyes at a man across the room.
“I got lost in his eyes, but I get lost in most department stores. So I wouldn't read much into it.” Bruce shrugged and smiled.
Lois hadn't said anything or gestured as if they were one the same page about Superman. He couldn't risk pushing it too hard, especially with what Lois knew about him. Lois was a Metropolis native. She was probably pro Superman and his walk quietly and carry a big stick method of maintaining peace. Bruce telling her he wanted the upper hand of confirming his civilian name would come off as petty. There was no need, to ruin his and Lois’ reunion by reminding her that he was always on the case. It's what caused them to break up, she loved his drive but feared where it was taking him. In learning about the Bat it was hard for her to see Bruce. She was always waiting, wondering, worrying. It sucked the joy out of dating.
“Not much huh?” Lois squinted, she knew when it came to Bruce there was always something to ‘read into’. “I could put in a good word, if you want? For old times sake?”
‘She doesn't have any idea.’
The offer sealed it. Superman's take on the bat was a matter of public record: a man Metropolis didn’t need.
Clark Kent was skeptical of the Bat, sure, but it could be argued that was his job. A man of secrets and unlimited resources, was someone Clark was obligated to put under a lens, to ask questions and point out the pros and cons so people could make opinions of their own. Superman on the other hand wasn't debating or raising questions, he had made up his mind. The Bat was not someone he wanted to do business with.
“I'm not sure he'd appreciate that. The company I keep might rub him the wrong-”
“Apreciate? He thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread. Bruce Wayne did this. Bruce Wayne wore that. Bruce Wayne has trouble carrying groceries like the rest of us. Who do you think got the Gotham beat when I was put on ice? Did you think you stopped being news?”
“Clark Kent has a crush on me?”
Was that irony? Superman didn't trust Batman's morals, but Bruce Wayne? Clark Kent saw only the good. Maybe because he saw the good in people and Batman wasn't a person, he was a boogeyman, he was vengeance.
“Oh spare me the modesty. Mr. Gotham's most eligible . . . Even when we were dating. Do you want me to set it up or not?”
“Is this on or off the record? Because this probably isn’t helping your, too close to Bruce Wayne to be objective campaign.” Bruce chuckled when Lois pressed the off button with some attitude. “Why not? I never turn down a good word from a good friend. Give him my number, if for no other reason than to remember the digits yourself."
Bruce took one of his business cards from his desk and wrote his cell number on the back. He went to hand it over but pulled it back at the last second. Opening his desk drawer he glanced around then decided on one of his emergency colognes and spritzed the card. ‘Why do anything half way?’
Bruce didn’t see any harm in meeting Clark Kent, maybe he could get a better read on if he was as ‘human’ as he liked to be perceived. Even if the Kryptonian gave him nothing intel wise, this might rekindle Bruce and Lois’ friendship, she was sure to call and want the details.
“I’ll be less of a stranger Bruce.” Lois offered a little apologetically.
“I’d offer to be less strange, but I don’t know that I can keep that promise.”
“I know that you can’t.” Lois stood up and gave Bruce a hug. “It’s not the suit that scared me off Bruce, it was where your head goes. I worry, I know what it’s like to chase something so hard that everything else disappears and what you’re chasing-”
“Is the bottom, there has to be an end to it, there has to be a light there, that’s what I’m chasing.” How deep do you go? How dark does it get? That’s what Lois worried about. That was the concern of everyone outside looking in. Bruce didn’t see it that way. He saw each step not deeper down the abyss, but closer to the light. The grind took sacrifice not martyrdom or assimilation.
“Yeah.” Lois kissed him on the cheek. “Hot tip, save light at the end of the tunnel talk till third date bare minimum.”
“Is he a snoop like you?” Bruce smiled fondly.
Bruce had waited with Lois; they had been dating five months when he told her. He had wanted to tell her, it wasn't to beat her to the chase. Though he also wasn't going to fool himself and claim keeping her in the dark for ages was ever an option.
“Bruce, I’m hurt.”
“Hurt?”
“No one is a snoop like me.” She winked at him as she left his office.
“Claaaark, we talked about you.” Lois ruffled a hand through Kent's curls as she passed by his desk.
“Uh oh.” Clark figured he knew why. “It was a valid question.” He buried his frown into his coffee mug.
At the press conference earlier in the week on Gotham's pay phone panic button swap, Clark had asked if the panic relays were going to the Bat as well as first responders. Bruce Wayne was a known supporter of the Bat, which was his choice, but the public should know if their emergencies were being vetted by a third party, if there was going to be a pecking order about what panic was worth it.
“How is that different than Superman's super hearing?” Lois countered. “Aw, you think he can't handle an even playing field is that it? The Bat will beat his numbers?”
“I did not say that.” Clark scoffed. “But the numbers game is my issue. If there's a car accident and a drug deal going on, I don't think the drug deal should get priority attention because it's a crime. Superman goes where he's needed, not just what gets him his next bust. I worry that Batman will cherry pick, and the people should be aware of that.”
“So you trust Superman's judgment but not Batman’s?”
“His priorities, not his judgment.” Clark shrugged. “The panic buttons are a great idea but I think you should know what you're getting. I think Mister Wayne really believes in a better Gotham through Gotham’s good but-”
“I think you don't know Batman as well as you think. Maybe you only hear about the busts? Maybe there isn't room in the Gazette for every time the Bat helps an old woman cross the street? Maybe Gotham needs the bigger wins front and center.”
“I'd like to think that's true, but that’s a lot of maybes. I can only believe what I see.”
Clark had seen the Bat in action. The man did not have poor judgment, every movement he made was precise and purposefully. He just seemed so . . . Result driven. Clark didn’t doubt the man wanted to make a difference but he was doing it solely by taking out the bad guys. His interest in the good guys, the belief that they existed, either had vanished entirely or was just a non factor.
“Only what you see? Maybe you need to get out more Smallville. Ever think of that?”
“Fair. Enough about the Bat. How'd it go? Wayne give you anything good? You can't have spent the whole interview ragging on me. . . . Right?” Wayne had seemed to be staring at Clark like he'd kicked the man's dog. “Did you tell him I admire how much he's done for Gotham? That I think it's great how much he trusts Gotham to take care of one another? It was one valid question, I shouldn’t be public enemy number one because-”
“Funny you ask what he gave me.” Lois handed over a business card. “Turn it over.”
“His cell number, are you two getting back . . . Is this . . . Scented?” Clark sniffed the card. “Smells like plum and oak . . . He wore this at . . . not the press conference, the pen pall program through the schools?”
“Don’t lead with the fact that you can time stamp him by scent.” Lois scoffed. “If I wasn’t here? Hopeless, the both of you.”
“Lead?”
“The number is for you Clark.” Lois gave a playful knock to Clark’s forehead. “He wants you to call him. Who knows maybe he’s bored of yes men, and wants a guy who will push his buttons a little bit.”
“He wants me to call him? Like for a date right? Not a follow up interview?” Clark had a tendency to get his hopes up. He needed Lois to be painfully clear with Wayne’s intentions before he started doodling their initials in hearts on his notepad. “I thought he-”
“Bruce doesn’t pick sides. You can be team big blue and he can still think you’re cute.”
“Cute? Moi?” he had to make Lois snicker and roll her eyes for a second as he tried to wrap him mind around Bruce finding him half as 'cute' as he found Wayne.
Clark had more than a small crush on Bruce Wayne. On top of being charitable, clever and timelessly handsome, something most people didn’t really notice was how elegant he was. Not just in how he dressed, he was no slouch there, but in a literal sense, in how he moved. It was endlessly attractive to Clark.
He was no expert exactly, but Clark thought Bruce moved like a dancer. He sort of floated to the front of crowds, spun from person to person. His pace was just a hair slower than everything and everyone around him, it made everything seem deliberate, a move, a dance, a choice. Even his smiles, the way they eased up his face, there was some drama to it, a build, a pause, then the payoff.
The world was busy, chaotic, more than the human eye could comprehend. Bruce’s elegance, a swan against the sea, was something that Clark always tried to take the time to appreciate because he didn’t figure everyone could see all the separate pieces moving in rhythm like he could.
“Lost in his eyes, his words.” Lois shook her recorder in his face. “Asked me to put in a good word. He’s a good man and I think you would be good for him. I think you both need to get out more, live a little. Get lossssst in each other's eyes.”
“You’re not going to print that are you?”
“I will if you don’t do something about it. C’mon Kent, when was the last time you went on a date?”
“Well I’ve been busy lately but . . . oh! I went on a date with Zeke just last month.”
“Zeke won that date in a bachelor auction to win the fight against Alzheimer's.”
“It was dinner, dancing, I took them out for ice-”
“Call him!”
“Are you ok with it? You did date him, I don’t want any feelings to get-”
“I wouldn’t have set you two up if I still wanted him, or if I felt he wasn’t worth wanting. Don’t you dare use me as an excuse to crush in a corner. If I have to I’ll get the gang over here to give you dating advice.”
“Please don’t do that.” Clark whispered, knowing it was too late. He could see Steve and Jimmy circling in like vultures.
“Does our little chickadee need advice?” Steve swooped in first. “Here it is simple. You treat a woman like a person, then a princess, then a Greek goddess, then a person again.”
“That's from a TV show.” Jimmy elbowed Steve as he crowded Clark's desk.
“And Bruce Wayne isn't a woman.” Lois added.
“Well-” Steve glanced at Clark, digesting this new information. Clark waved. Same old Clark. Just liked dudes. “Shit, it still works. Wish someone would treat me like a Greek goddess. Ron?!”
“What?!" Everyone looked around for where Ron's voice was coming from.
“Dude, feed me some grapes!” Steve yelled loud enough that most of the bullpen was now staring at their little circus.
“Fuck you Steve!” Clark looked by the coffee station, Ron’s desk, under his own desk, up at the ceiling tiles, the fire exit, Ron was still elusive. “I'm not falling for that again.”
“Again?” Clark's eyes shot to Steve who shrugged.
“Forget that.” Jimmy put his hands on Clark's shoulders and gave them a shake. “All you need to remember is this one line: Can I borrow a kiss? I swear I'll return it.”
“That's worked?” Clark leaned back to look his friend in the face.
“All the time.”
“All the time. As in more than once? With real life people?”
“Try it!”
Clark looked at Lois for her opinion.
“From what my sources say Olsen is talented with his tong-”
“I'm going to go make a call!” Clark shot up from his chair, doing his best to ignore the mix of victorious and smug looks around him. “Alone, without help. I've got this!” Clark was careful not to crunch the business card as he ran off from all this advice.
He went up to the roof where he was thirty percent sure no one would surprise him with romance advice. He took a few deep breaths and ran through a hundred different date options in his mind. Once he was calm and collected enough he dialed the number on the back of the business card.
“An unknown number.” Bruce answered. “Is this the pair of baby blues I ordered?"
“It-” Clark wasn't expecting that greeting, his especially wasn't expecting to blush so hard over it. “Hey Bruce, what's your take on elbow room?”
“I don't get it.”
“Huh?”
“What's the punchline?”
“No joke, I want to take you somewhere you'd be comfortable but you always make yourself comfortable wherever you go. Do you want something lively like a club, something classic like a dinner or something private like a nature walk?”
“A hike? No one's ever offered a first date in the woods.”
‘Probably because everyone's watched Dateline and that's where you go to get murdered. Bad suggestion Kent.’
“It sounds quaint.”
“I like how you say that.” Clark really had to get better at keeping thoughts as thoughts if he was going to stand any chance at charming Bruce.
“Huh?”
“Quaint. You don't say it like it's a bad thing. You like quaint?”
“Sometimes.” Bruce admitted with a little hesitancy, maybe it was bad for his public image to like anything short of opulent. “But I do make it a rule not to sweat on a first date. How about coffee?”
“Coffee, oh! Would you be ok with me taking you to Dottie's? It's a bakery but they have great coffee.”
“Do they have macaroons? I love a good macaroon.”
“I’m sure they do. I always go for the Jelly donuts, but Dottie’s has got it all.”
“Then it’s a date.”
“Great! That works perfect, first date treats, second date we can work em off with a very safe hike on a very public trail.” Clark felt it somewhat imperative to sell, possibly over sell himself as not a serial killer.
“Uh-huh.” Bruce chuckled. “So sure of a second date are we? Sure enough for me to plan my waistline around it?”
“Why would I go on a first one without intentions for a second?” Clark hoped he wasn't sounding cocky. Sometimes his optimism came off that way. 'Relax Kent . . . put it in neutral.' He was excited, his mind was pushing for each sentence to count, but in doing so he was second guessing every word which would not work long term.
“What's your favorite color, Clark?” Bruce surprised him with an abrupt change of subject.
“Yellow, why?”
“Ill wear something yellow for you then.”
“Ouch.”
“Ouch?”
“Pinched myself making sure I'm not dreaming. Bruce Wayne dressing himself to my taste."
“You're too much.” Clark almost wanted to use his x-ray vision to see across the bridge, he was fairly certain he heard quite the handsome smile.
“That's one of my better qualities I think.”
“Saturday? Noon? I'll pick you . . . Have you ever ridden a motorcycle? I’d handle steering of course but I just want to make sure your comfortable-”
“Now whose too much?” Clark wasn’t so sure how he felt about riding behind Bruce on a motorcycle. Too much of a good thing maybe. Holding his waist? Pressed up against his back? Bruce bent forward, hiss ass at an angle dreams are made of?
“Saturday noon. Be waiting outside for me?”
“Yeah, sure, my address is-”
“I know where you live Kent, when I’m interested, I’m interested."
‘Who is this guy? And what is he doing to me?’ Clark smiled as he pocketed his phone.