Disclaimer: I do not own Batman nor Superman, nor do I make any profit from this. This is purely for my own amusement.

A/N: In response to someone asking about the foggy hearts in my previous story, Morning Habit (which you do not have to read to understand this one), I wrote this in response. This is unbetaed meaning all the mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy.

Foggy Hearts & Lipstick Marks

Let it be known that although the Batman may stand for justice, Bruce Wayne stood for revenge. Clark really should have seen it coming. In Clark's defense he was completely innocent. Perhaps he was a little over the top. Maybe he had let Bruce's name slip out once – twice, more times than he should have amidst battle; maybe he dropped too many subtle – not so subtle hints to Lois of who his new boyfriend really was. Or maybe, just maybe Bruce's source of grudge lied in the fact that Clark had scooped Bruce up in broad daylight to pin him up against the nearest surface and kiss him like a starved man returning from war. Well that analogy wasn't too far off. Clark had been off planet for two long weeks on a mission, and as soon as he got back, he needed to feel that warm, strong body pressed against his. Bruce felt otherwise.

To be fair, Clark was not in his uniform, and his back was to the camera as the headlines read: "BILLIONAIRE BRUCE WAYNE GAY? Reporter spots him kissing a handsome stranger in an abandoned alleyway."

"They called me handsome?"

"Not the point, Clark." Bruce slammed the article down on the coffee table in front of the other. A picture of them kissing like teenagers was plastered across the front page of the Gotham Gazette. Clark couldn't help but notice the tight grip of Bruce's hand fisted in the back of his shirt, and that strong thigh wrapped around his. Although the picture quality was a bit poor and made his big glasses obscure most of his face, it was undeniably Bruce Wayne wrapped around some guy.

"Bruce, I'm—"

"Clark," Bruce abruptly cut the other man off as if he never heard him to begin with, "I'll handle it." If only Clark had known what "handle it" actually entailed, though before he could ask, Bruce made his way to the door. He sharply called out, "And don't you dare say you're sorry, Kent." The door slammed behind him, hard. Nope, Bruce had definitely heard him earlier.

A few days later since the incident, Clark was assigned to interview Bruce under the guise of asking about Wayne Enterprise's new project of rebuilding part of down town Gotham, when really what the Daily Planet wanted to know, and most of world for that matter, was who was Bruce Wayne really kissing in that alleyway? Is Bruce Wayne really gay, or just bi? Clark really didn't want to go.

Clark's first hint of trouble should have been the setting. Bruce had planned the interview to happen during a basketball game. It was the Gotham Guardsmen versus the Metropolis Monarchs, and damn Bruce, but the Guardsmen were up by nine points thanks to their three-point shooter star. The even more annoying part of the interview was that he couldn't get one word in with Bruce. Every time he tried, Bruce would laugh off Clark's question, flash him that infamous Brucie Wayne smile that made Clark want to punch him, and obnoxiously say with the wave of his hand, "Don't worry Clarence, I'll give you all the quotes you need."

"It's Clark, and thank you, Mr. Wayne." Clark had replied through a clenched jaw. Admittedly though, he was smiling a little inside since he knew where Bruce got the name Clarence from. And he said he didn't like the move, 'It's A Wonderful Life'.

"Please, call me Brucie, Carson."

"Brucie!" Bruce's attention was once again stolen by what was the most annoying part of Clark's night. Bruce, since the incident, had been seen with no less than three models wrapped around him at all times. Luckily he had only brought one with him for the interview, but the one he brought was more than enough. She was stunning. Even through monstrous green-eyed jealousy, Clark had to admit that this particular model was breathtakingly beautiful, if albeit a little whiney.

"Mr. Wayne – Brucie, if we could just get back to—"

"Oh, Brucie, look!" Clark was once again interrupted as he saw the model pointing up at something on the big jumbotrons before turning to Bruce with her lips pursed for what could only be a kiss. Clark was about to break his pen, but he knew Bruce would never let him hear the end of it if he did. So he swiftly glanced away from the two of them, and instead looked up at the big jumbotron that flashed big pink hearts around Bruce Wayne and his gorgeous date, while the song "Kiss Me" blared over the speakers.

'Bruce, you bast—' Before Clark could finish mentally cursing the man beside him, he felt a rough tug around his neck as his tie was yanked, and all too familiar lips crashed against his. He vaguely heard wolf whistles from the crowd, and was that cheering? Clark couldn't be sure for he found himself lost in the feeling of rough padded fingers sliding across his cheek, and the corners of devious lips curling up to what could only be a smirk.

Meanwhile, all Clark could do was sit dumbly and allow this pompous billionaire kiss him in a stadium filled with jaw-dropped people.

Before he knew it, Clark felt a warm breath came to tickle the outer shell of his ear, whispering, "Stop leaving foggy hearts on my mirrors, Kent." Clark wasn't given a chance to fully register the words before the warm breath retreated as he was met with an all too pleased smile from Bruce Wayne.

"Does that answer your question, Mr…?"

Clark's cheeks were burning when he stammered, "K-Kent, Clark Kent."

Bruce's grin only widened in amusement before he went to lick his upper lip none too subtly. Clark broke his pen.

"BILLIONAIRE BRUCE WAYNE STEALS A KISS FROM PLANET REPORTER. On Friday night during a basketball game between the Gotham Guardsmen and Metropolis Monarchs, Bruce Wayne stole a kiss from the reporter Clark Kent for the KissCam. Exclusive interview from Bruce Wayne's date inside."

Clark sat in the booth wearing a Smallville baseball cap, and his big glasses, trying to make himself small as Bruce looked over the article Clark kept shoving in his face.

"Well they certainly got a better shot than they did last time."

"Bruce." Clark glared over at said man, though the effect was lost over the spoon full of apple pie that seemed to be Bruce's sorry apology for this whole extravaganza. "You don't understand. Now I'm simply known as that guy who kissed Bruce Wayne. You wouldn't believe the earful I've gotten from Lombard, and Cat wants a whole interview of 'What's it like to kiss Bruce Wayne'."

"Oh? So what's it like to kiss Bruce Wayne?"

Clark gave him another warning glare, though such a look proved futile against the Bat, or perhaps it was the fact that his mouth was currently stuffed with apple pie that his glare lost its fire. Instead the corner of Bruce's lips slightly curved upward into a shadow of a smirk before the man had the audacity to lean over and steal a small piece of his pie.

"Mm, your mother's pie is much better."

"There are many things that are better than this pie."

A dark brow rose, "Like an apology blow job?"

Clark slammed a twenty down on the counter, and more than dragged Bruce out of the booth.

The story of Bruce Wayne kissing Clark Kent blew over after a period of months. Soon Clark stopped being asked about it at work and chased around by nosy reporters, and Bruce went back to stealing the front page with his arms wrapped around supermodels. Clark thought everything had gone back to the way it should be – minus the supermodel part. Still, he left foggy hearts on Bruce's mirrors, and even left more than one now as if in retaliation for that KissCam stunt. Bruce apparently didn't like it the first time because Dick had sent a picture of it to Jason stating, "You owe me $50". Bruce was not amused to say the least, but Clark continued nonetheless. Like hell that KissCam stunt was all due to his little foggy hearts. His hearts were cute.

How wrong could Clark be?

For the first time in forever, Clark wasn't late for work. He actually had time to take the bus like any other normal person instead of flying in with his Superman uniform. As he waited for the bus, he flipped through notes he had been working on last night for a new story he wanted to write. Vaguely did he hear soft giggling beside him, and excited whispers, and was that a click of a camera?

Clark glanced up. His jaw dropped. He nearly dropped his papers too, but luckily he still had enough sanity to not let them go. Instead, his tight grip nearly crumpled them as he stared at familiar grey-blue eyes, and an all too pleased smile.

There was Bruce, larger than life on a poster board. His dark hair was windswept, his shirt buttons undone to reveal a muscled torso, his tie held tightly by a model's hand as several other hands were clawing at the billionaire's clothes. However, that wasn't what caught Clark's attention. Instead it was all the various kiss marks that marked Bruce's body, his cheek, his chest, his abs, and was that a hint of one leading past his hip?

The man's lips were stained a rosy pomegranate color of what could only be lipstick while the slogan on the bottom read, "Mark Me Well".

The poster was everywhere in Metropolis, and everywhere Clark went. Clark passed a newsstand where the poster was the front page of the Cosmopolitan, exclusive interview with Bruce Wayne inside. Clark bought a copy.

'Bethany: So what inspired Wayne Cosmetics to come out with this new lipstick line, 'Mark Me Well'?

Bruce: Well, Bethany, it might surprise you to know, but I am quite the possessive lover, and what better way to mark your lover than a kiss mark?

Bethany: I see; now does the lipstick you're wearing here have your name on it?

Bruce: It does.

Bethany: Have you marked anyone yet, Mr. Wayne?

Bruce: I'm not one to kiss and tell, but this lipstick line does make it hard to be discreet.' Clark had to roll his eyes at that, but he continued to read the article behind his desk, making sure to hide the cover of the magazine behind miscellaneous papers.

'Bethany: Now you have lipsticks named after both men and women. Are any of them named after past lovers?

Bruce: The reasoning behind the names is to include everyone. You do not have to be a woman to mark someone. In fact, we even have an option where you can mix and match your own lipstick color and name it yourself.

Bethany: That's great Mr. Wayne, however, I couldn't help but notice you have one color, a bright red one to be exact, named Clark. That wouldn't have anything to do with the Planet reporter Clark Kent would it?

At this time, Mr. Wayne's smile had broadened before he replied quite cheekily, 'I believe you already know the answer to that, Bethany.' There you have it readers. Could Bruce Wayne already be marked? Or is Bruce planning on making a permanent mark on a certain someone?'

"Clark!"

Clark sat straight up at his desk, knocking a few things over in his wake. "Y-yes, Lois? Can I help you with anything?"

Lois took a moment or two eyeing Clark suspiciously. Before Clark could sputter an excuse, Lois quickly snatched the opened magazine upon her partner's desk. She held the magazine out of Clark's reach – which was quite a feat considering Clark was 6'3" – and quickly scanned the title of the article.

"I can't believe it."

"Lois, it's not what you think. There was an article in there and I—"

"Save it, Smallville, both you and I know perfectly well that you don't read Cosmo. So when were you going to tell me that Mr. tall, dark, and handsome boyfriend of yours was Bruce Wayne? I mean, I suspected it all along after that first article that came out with Bruce wrapped around some strange guy – the glasses gave it away by the way – but I was hoping you would have told me instead of having to read it from Bethany Snow! I thought we were friends."

"We are friends, Lois. I… I didn't know he was going to do this." Lois gave Clark a hard look, but Clark was a terrible liar, and right now he looked to be telling the truth… for now.

"Alright, but promise me that when you two lovebirds decide to officially come out—"

"I'll let you know." Clark finished for her before offering her a sheepish smile.

Lois gave Clark a final look, before the corners of her own lips curled into a confident smile, "Good, if you don't, Kent, mark me well, I'll make you pay for it."

Clark internally groaned, or by judging by Lois's laugh he had let that groan slip. Nonetheless, he had more than a few words to say to Bruce the next time he saw the man. Lucky for Clark, or maybe not so lucky, the wait wasn't long.

After a long day at work, stopping a mudslide from crushing a small village in Indonesia, rescuing two cats stuck up a tree, and running away from a horde of reporters outside the Daily Planet all wanting answers for the Cosmopolitan piece, Clark was tired. He wearily fiddled with his keys only to see that his door was already unlocked. Most people would be alarmed at this point, but most people weren't invulnerable to many things, and no one else was dating Batman who tended not to knock. When Clark swung the door open, there was Bruce lounging comfortably on his couch with his feet up on the coffee table, discarded jacket hanging over the side of one of the kitchen chairs, and nose buried in some official looking papers.

There was very little of Bruce from the poster board sitting on his couch. The lines upon Bruce's face were hard, critical as those blue eyes scanned the document before him, and strong fingers drew imaginary numbers upon the arm of his couch.

"Hard day?" Bruce hadn't glanced up, but knowing the other, he probably knew Clark by the sound and gait of his footsteps alone. Bruce always said he was like some bull in a china shop.

In response, Clark just tossed down the magazine into Bruce's lap for the young Billionaire to glance down at his own smiling face. A smile broke across those dark features.

"I didn't know you read Cosmo."

"Yeah, and apparently I'm not the only one, Mr. Wayne." Clark couldn't help the biting tone in his voice. Bruce had no idea how many reporters he had to run away from today alone. It was worse than the KissCam stunt. With all the pictures being taken of him recently, it was only a matter of time until his civilian disguise was ripped to pieces. And yet, amidst his internal panic, Bruce was just smiling amused…

"Look, I get it, alright." Clark released a long sigh as he came to rub the back of his neck, a conceding gesture, although he refused to look Bruce in the eye as he admitted, "I understand I was a brash, thoughtless idiot like always, and shouldn't have kissed you in broad daylight like that. But goddammit, Bruce! Do you know how many reporters I had on my tail today alone?! You're used to being in front of the cameras, I'm not – Bruce Wayne is loved by the cameras; Clark Kent is not. He's not supposed to be. For heaven's sake, what if – B-Bruce, what are you doing?"

"Are you finished?" A mischievous hand had been toying with the bottom of Clark's tie halfway through the reporter's rant, though Clark hadn't seemed to notice how close Bruce was to him until now. Nor had he noticed the top few buttons of Bruce's shirt popped open just enough so you could see the start of a small scar peeking through, his strands of dark hair misplaced as if fingers had run through them more than once, and that devious smirk marked red.

Bruce was nearly the spitting image of the magazine cover, as Clark owlishly blinked once – twice before blowing out air he hadn't noticed he'd been holding in all this time.

"No," Clark's big blue eyes narrowed with great effort to still look furious, "No, Bruce, I'm not finished. And don't you dare think for a second that you'll get away with this as easily as last time." Because his knees certainly weren't starting to feel weak, and was he starting to actually fall backwards?

"I certainly hope not." A demanding hand pressed against Clark's chest, pushing him into the couch. Strong thighs came to straddle his followed by possessive arms wrapping around his neck to completely trap him as if a flash of those gray-blue eyes in his direction wasn't enough to paralyze him.

And goddammit, Bruce! Clark was better than some hormonal teenager, but Rao help him he could only be invulnerable to so many things and Bruce Wayne just happened to not be one of them.

"Clark," those devilish lips came to press lightly against his ear, "mark me well, your hearts aren't cute."

Clark, despite feeling that warm body pressed against his in the most tantalizing of ways, couldn't help but let out an incredulous snort. "Really, Bruce? This is not about my foggy hearts, and you and I both know it."

"No," Bruce relented with a thoughtful look, "it is part of it though. The other parts," Bruce's lips moved to press against the patch of skin just below Clark's ear, "I can't leave a single mark on your skin," Bruce paused once more to press another kiss mark against the Man of Steel, "and yet you always leave me with many. Where's the fairness in that, Superman?"

"I-Is that all?"

"And the picture—"

"I knew it."

Bruce pushed on, despite Clark rudely interrupting, " –reveled to press, that Bruce Wayne could be taken. Now," Grey-blue eyes met Clark's, "they'll know that so is Clark Kent."

Clark was stunned silent.

As his brain tried to process what those lips had just said to him, those same lips stole his breath away when they captured his. And although his mind was still trying to piece together everything, those strong fingers threading through his locks, and that body pressed against his, the Bat's message was clear: 'You're mine.'

'Yes,' Clark kissed this beyond frustrating man back, 'I'm yours.' However… Clark found enough strength in him to pull away from Bruce to have the last word, "My hearts are adorable."

Bruce laughed before going to kiss away Clark's pout. And true to the man's word, a few days later Clark Kent to the press was happily taken by one devious billionaire with Lois Lane's name printed to the article.

Truth be told, Clark couldn't be mad. The morning after the incident he made sure to wash away every incriminating kiss mark Bruce had left on him, however he decided to keep the kiss mark he found pressed against his bathroom mirror. He left it there to serve as a reminder that Bruce Wayne was not a man to cross. Ever. And he thought it was cute. Maybe just as cute as his foggy hearts.

The End

A/N: Thanks for reading if you've gotten down this far. I hope it wasn't too terrible… maybe? I don't know. I have a final exam tomorrow that I should be studying for but instead I do this to myself. Anyway, thanks again for reading, and take care!