Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just a fan.

The Office Party

Clark knew that this was going to be a rough time of the year for him. The first Christmas on his own, both parents gone, Lois off on some military base 'doing the family thing'. She had said it so flippantly not noticing as he'd winced. He would give anything to have his parents back, to do the Christmas thing on the Kent farm. She has sort of invited him but he had already met her father and had no intention of doing it again. So here he was wandering the streets. Metropolis had no appeal for him so he had wandered across the globe and somehow ended back here so close to home but far enough away for everything to appear so alien. Unless that was just the preponderance of Gothic brooding architecture. He'd ended up in Gotham of all places.

He had to admit that they'd done a good job of decorating the city centre stylishly. Not the glare and over brashness of Metropolis or the seeming homespun of Smallville. He sighed thinking of the way they used to decorate the barn for the annual lunch Martha Kent put on for all the neighbouring farm families and all of Clark's friends who she seemed to be eternally feeding. He smiled remembering her catching Lois sticking her finger in the brandy sauce. She didn't realise that Lois had already added extra. Quite a lot extra. No, Gotham seemed grown up and sophisticated.

He kept walking until he spied a tower which he thought would normally be looming out of the darkness but today was a light from top to bottom with subtle illuminations of white and gold. If, that is, you could describe anything that probably cost a farms mortgage to light up each night in electricity subtle. It was pretty, he thought begrudgingly. And it was popular.

He stood and watched as elegant car after car, limousine after limousine pulled up in front of the brightly lit awning and discharged glittering people one after the other. Evening gowns, black suited and booted gentlemen. He found himself moving nearer, watching each couple or single as they emerged from the vehicles. They all looked handsome in the sparkle and glare of flash bulbs going off. Not that they were bulbs but it seemed to fit the atmosphere of the night. As he walked closer, seeing all the press and members of the public armed with cameras and autograph books, he was taken back to a time of Hollywood glamour.

It made what he was wearing, a perfectly respectable suit, feel like a paupers. Could he get in he wondered watching those dressed up Gothamites? He pushed his hand into a pocket and found his Daily Planet Press ID. He got a slight lopsided grin to his lips and backing off disappeared into a doorway.

Arriving at the newspaper offices he was certain no one had seen his departure and he went swiftly through the building avoiding any of the skeleton, mainly junior, staff who had drawn the short straw and had to work the holidays.

Minutes later and he was presenting his Press Id at the door to Wayne Tower. It was not going well. He looked the part in the tuxedo kept at the Planet for 'emergencies' but "If your names not on the list you're not getting in."

"Oh, I'm sure there must be some mistake. I've come all the way from Metropolis. It's been arranged for weeks."

"Really?" so sceptical. "The invitations only went out last evening."

"Oh…well I mean…" pushing his glasses up and sort of giving her a sheepish 'you caught me but please, please let me in' smile.

It didn't work.

Walking despondently away from the glitz and the glamour he had an idea. Could he? Should he? Well of course he could but he shouldn't. Moments later standing on the terrace he did felt a slight sense of shame but it was not the first time he'd entered somewhere without an invitation. He was pretty sure in the great scheme of things, gate crashing a party was pretty low on the criminal stakes.

It was just as he thought it would be. The women looking elegant, coiffured and immaculately made up, the men handsome and dashing, even the corpulent ones in their nip tucked and designer tuxedos. There was a wonderful string section in the corner adversely playing modern music for a dance floor being graced by swirling couples. The music may be modern but the waltz was eternal.

He stepped inside returning nods from curios glances and greetings. He had been to parties like this before. Everyone being polite to everyone else because you never knew just how much power or money a stranger could hold. He grabbed up a passing Champagne flute again momentarily thinking how stylish not to have the classic more common type of glass. He had already crashed the party so he decided that he owned the Newspaper, he wasn't a reporter. He was a wealthy business man and as long as no one asked him too many questions he could bluff it. He wasn't Clark Kent the bumbling reporter here. No one would know him, he hoped, so he decided he could be a little suave.

What was a suave name he wondered? Oliver, Alexander…..Lex. He frowned. Johnathan, Laurence, Nathaniel. Nathaniel. He nodded to himself and looking up hopped no one thought him mad. Wait, he was rich, rich people were never insane, they were eccentric.

He wandered around some more letting the chatter wash over him as did the music. The Champagne was not to his taste, wine should not have bubbles in it, so moved over to the bar and ordered a Scotch of all things. That sounded sophisticated. It was not as if anything he drank would actually make him intoxicated. Unless it was doctored in some way. Well that had been fun 'thank you very much, Lois and her 'special punch'. Once more he felt a pang of loneliness.

Sighing he took his glass and turning, leant back against the bar looking around. He drank and people watched sighing again.

"You're not enjoying the party then?" asked a deep warm voice by his shoulder. Turning, he quickly stifled the intake of breath at the eyes so bright gazing at him with amusement lighting them. They were startling and for once on a level with his, although he was sort of draped back against the walnut of the bar.

"No. No it's a fine soirée," he answered figuring that Nathaniel would say something like that, he hoped, a sudden desire to not let himself down in front of this debonair fellow stood so straight but relaxed beside him. The smile that greeted that was charming and gracious but not warm. 'Damn!' he thought, he had blown it already. Not quite sure what it was that he had been trying to do.

The man ordered whisky from the attentive barman and then nodding moved to leave. "What…what do you think?" Anything to stop the man moving away. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

The man hesitated then as if coming to a decision moved back closer to him and said almost distractedly, "No not really."

"Oh?" trying not to sound surprised. It was a fine party. Clark had not been to many like this but thought he could get used to it. If he had someone he knew with him.

"No. Once you've been to one 'Office Party' you've been to them all." There was a look of forbearance on the face coupled with a small smile of conspiracy.

"Oh? You work for Wayne Enterprises then?" taking a swift drink hoping not to sound too gauche.

"Yes," laughing, "don't you? This is the Wayne Enterprises Christmas 'Office' Party after all." He sounded amused and Clark had an awful feeling he was blushing. "Ah! I fear we have a gate crasher."

The man was still amused so Clark tried for nonchalance. Leaning back against the bar, slouching a little more than before but fixing the man with an eye, "Well, I won't expose you if you won't."

Good. That made him laugh. It lit up his face seeming to drop years from him. He lifted his glass and smiled back warmly too. Clark liked the amused side to the elegance much more. He was trimmer than himself but them most men were. But Clark could sense a firmness, a readiness in the stance as if he was well capable of looking after himself. No desk job for this one he decided.

What to ask him, what to say? "There's some really nice art work in here," raising his own glass at some art deco female figure hanging over an ornate marble fireplace. "Rather eclectic though," thanking the arts editor for boring Lois and himself stupid one wet afternoon.

"You think so? I could take or leave it. Not really my taste but I believe it's been up here from before the current Wayne took over." The man glanced around as with a fresh eye taking another sip.

Clark watched as the tip of the man's tongue came out to lick at his bottom lip before slowly almost smacking them together. He appeared to be savouring his whisky. Clark swiftly took another, what turned out to be a gulp of his own and ended near chocking having the man suddenly begin to pound him on the back as he coughed.

"Not used to the hard stuff?" laughing still and Clark managed to give him a rueful but evil glance that just made him laugh the more and motion over the barman. "A glass of water and another of what he was drinking, please."

Clark gratefully accepted the tall glass of water and thought it nice that this obviously wealthy man had said 'please' to the staff. He liked him more and more but then that was why he'd choked on his Scotch. Watching him lick his lips in such obvious appreciation had done something to the pit of Clark's stomach. He knew exactly what! The sudden twist of arousal. He was attracted to him, and all his elegance, composure, glimpsed gleefulness was all adding to it.

"Better?" he was asked and he smiled back trying to be a little more elegant than he usually was himself. This man was a grown up and he didn't think he would go for his usual clumsiness or that he would be impressed by his strength. He didn't know why but the man seemed to possess such poise and calmness that Clark thought he was used to being in charge and command. Whether just of himself or others he was yet to find out.

"So what brought you to crash this party? Not just to view the artworks surely? Unless that is, you're casing the joint?" He appeared to be half serious.

Clark laughed himself, his heart lightening as this charming and damned good looking man seemed to want to stay and talk to him. People had been nodding at him but other than being polite was somehow also making it obvious he was not to be disturbed. He must be quite high up in the company to be treated in such a manner. The Journalist in him wanted to know why he held such sway but the excited part of him was just glad and he didn't give it too much thought.

"Honestly? I had nothing better to do." Damn that sounded rude but it solicited another laugh.

"Really? Nowhere else to be? No Family?" Clark's face must have fallen as quickly he added, "Forgive me. That was none of my business."

Clark shook his head. "No, it's fine. Just found myself at a loose end this year." He took another drink looking around wildly trying to think of something to bring the mood back up.

"Ah! So you too?"

"Hum?" looking back at the man, he really should ask him his name.

"Young, free, single and fancy free, I think the British say." And there again was that laughter in the eyes that had Clark so enraptured.

"Indeed," was all he could come up with as this charming man had just moved a little closer and was watching his face intently. He gazed back, keeping eye contact.

There was a wicked smile on those usually stern lips. Usually meaning when he wasn't laughing Clark thought. "Would you like to see more artwork by chance? I happen to know there's a private office with an interesting picture on the wall."

Clark found himself laughing. "You're definitely not an art connoisseur then?"

"No," and he leaned in even closer, "but I know what I like."

If anyone else had tried that one he would have come off way cheesy but Clark just raised an eyebrow, tried to look sophisticated again and then gave up and laughed. "Good," he returned, and gesturing with his glass instructed, "Lead the way."

He didn't feel confident and hoped that he'd not mistaken what the man meant and prepared himself for if he really was just showing him a painting. But he hoped with everything he had that he wasn't wrong and that this, damn ask him his name for pity's sakes, man was as attracted to him as he was.

He followed down the corridor and through glass doors which cut out the sounds of the gathering and then on to a beautiful wooden door. Everything about this place was beautiful but not ostentatious. There was no name on the door and Clark wondered if this office belonged to this man but, as he led the way into the dark room and swore as he caught a leg on something before he could find a light switch, he thought not. For the first time Clark used his eyesight to spot a lamp on a desk and moving to it pretending also to hit the desk in the dark, switched it on. Turning around he was just in time to brace himself as this elegant man almost launched himself at him and then he was being kissed.

Those lips were much more giving than they appeared as they touched his, not gently but not demanding ether. Not that is until Clark's hands came up to surround the dark suit and kissed him back. A tongue asking for entry and he parted his own lips, sitting back against the desk as he was then thoroughly kissed.

It was heady. Clark almost felt like he was swooning. The taste of mature Whisky combining with his Scotch may not have gotten him drunk but the taste was intoxicating nevertheless. He chased the taste thrusting his tongue into the hot mouth, questing just as the other had done almost savagely. It was almost as if this man was desperate but he could live with that. In fact he was getting off on it and would have swung him around onto the desk if there wasn't suddenly hands inside his tuxedo smoothing up his crisp white shirt feeling his muscles. They seemed to be everywhere. He was so glad that he'd left his other suit hidden at The Planet. He was on vacation after all and Gotham already had a guardian.

His own hands tried to push back the tailored jacket off the man but he would not give up his hold on Clark. Instead Clark pushed a hand up into the classically styled chestnut hair, his fingers stroking along the nape, his other hand descended to smooth over a buttock encased in exquisitely tailored wool.

In response the kiss was broken and as the man looked at him with lust filled eyes and with a crocked grin he found hands on his own hips lifting him, or trying to, up onto the desk. He went gladly and found his legs forced apart as that trim, very firm body pushed between them. "So…. do you like the painting then?"

"I would prefer a Nude."

"Ha! I'm sorry we don't have the time."

"Shame it's not your party. Then you could do what you want."

"Maybe," running fingers over Clark's face looking almost sad.

Then Clark found his wrists captured and guided down to the desk besides him as that solid body pushed against him and he was being kissed as if the man needed it to live. He kept his hands where they'd been placed and let the man do as he would which was to kiss him thoroughly and his hands pull out his shirt and force their way up onto his stomach and chest running over his muscles. They were not gentle but demanding and he loved every second of it amazed that he should be sitting here on a desk letting another man more or less ravish him.

His cock was telling him just how much he was appreciating the attention and he strained his hips forwards trying to get contact. The other was definitely interested too but then pulled back, his hands sliding off him as they both felt the vibration of a phone.

Sounding so reluctant he told him, "Excuse me."

Clark wanted to laugh in disbelief but then he saw the reluctance and almost anger on his partner's expression in the dim lamplight. It made his face appear much more angler and some of those worry lines returned. Sighing, he stood back and looking up from under dark brows he spoke sounding gravelly, possibly with frustrated lust, "I have to go. Forgive me."

Then the man retreated from him adjusting his clothing and seemed to draw himself in, to clothe himself with almost armour. Clark could hardly believe it. He was so turned on and so was the man. How could he do that, switch back to that courteous but closed man he had first encountered at the bar?

"Oh…Okay…" not that he appeared to have much choice in the matter.

The man moved to the door opening it but then stopped and looked back. "Would …would you like to have dinner tomorrow night? With me?" He appeared almost shy in his asking and Clark thought then that he really wanted to get to know him, to discover all these mysterious changes in him. Also what his body looked like naked of course. He had told himself long ago not to cheat and look but to wait and discover. It was always so much better when he did.

"Y….yes," having to clear his throat. "That would be great," standing and slowly dressing himself. There was a smile to the man's lips and it looked genuine as he looked up at him.

"Good," he smiled and then reaching into a pocket pulled out a silver case, opened it, took out a card and a silver pen. Writing on the back, he then handed it Clark. "Phone me."

Clark just nodded as he watched the man slip from the room. "Damn!" he said to no one as he sank back against the desk once more. He ran a hand through his hair as he slipped the card into his pocket. He laughed to himself. He had been making out with a man of mystery and decided to leave it that way a little longer.

Pulling himself together, he headed back to the party feeling much lighter on his feet as he felt like he had as a teenager after each grabbed kiss from Lana or Alicia. Lois never made him feel like that. She made him feel worthy. He had a slight frown at the thought of Lois but it wasn't as if they were committed or anything. Something he often thought Lois should be. Smirking, he pushed through the glass doors and let the sounds of the party flood over him.

Grabbing a glass from a passing tray with no intention of drinking it but wanting something to hold, his attention was caught by a clinking on glass, the universal sign for speeches. He supposed he should listen as he'd been freeloading on good Scotch and well, it wasn't as if he hadn't been enjoying himself. Standing with the others all eagerly anticipating the arrival of the host as he was announced, Clark nearly dropped his Champagne flute from nerveless fingers as he watched the head of Wayne Enterprises move to take centre stage.

"Good evening and thank you all for coming to the Christmas Office Party."

There was polite laughter as Bruce Wayne smiled, looking around and fixing Clark Kent with a grin turning the corner of his mouth up said, "You are all very welcome."

'Fuck me!' thought Clark Kent, 'I've just made out with Bruce Wayne! And he gave me his number!"

=====End===