Yes! I'm finally writing again. Granted I'm not updating my other fics but that's secondary. rate and review XD

Captivated

Prologue: Yours or mine

"Mr Wayne , I know this seems a little strange but I think it would be best if you went into protective custody." The millionaire gave him a look. It was familiar, it said You really have no idea do you? Granted, Bruce Wayne wasn't a man who looked like he needed protecting but the recent attacks on his life told Clark differently. At the ball, the annual fundraiser and just now at the Morgantide festival, it seemed wherever the playboy went people were waiting, with guns. Still that shouldn't excuse the smirk this man was directing at him. He could at least pretend to be grateful that Clark had just saved his life.

"That's a fine offer mr…" The line hangs out on the edge of his smile.

"Superman." Clark says a little stiffly.

"Superman," Again that damning smirk, "Of course. But I can handle myself."

"I don't think you realize the danger you're in Mr…"

"Bruce." Bruce says, extending his hand. Superman wasn't really the shaking hands sort, not when he was wearing the cape and spandex anyway, but it felt rude to refuse. The hand he grasped was rougher than he imagined, traced with tiny scars like hairline fractures in a work of art. It was a moment before he realized he hadn't said anything in a while, and to his own embarrassment actually blushed a little. He prayed the millionaire hadn't noticed, but based on that never long gone smirk he guessed differently.

"Still. I would feel a lot better if I knew you were okay, ."

"Bruce. And if you're that concerned perhaps I can convince you to stay at the manor."

"The manor?"

"I planned on leaving metropolis tonight. You're right Superman, this place is far too exciting for me." The man flashed a smile as if to illustrate the ludicrousness of that statement, as if anything could be too exciting for Bruce Wayne.

He wasn't sure what made him say it, maybe the fat he was acting more like Clark playing dress up than the man of steel, or maybe because he'd yet to let go of Bruce's hand. Whatever the reason,

"That sounds fine. What time is your plane leaving?"

There was something, a flicker of surprise maybe, in Bruce's face before the usual playboy demeanor was back again. "Nine. We should be home around midnight."

"I'll see you there."