A/N: Thanks again for all of the adds! I don't believe this is my best work but let me know what you think by dropping a comment :D (Also, I hope you know what movie I'm referencing to at the end. It's actually one of my favorites!)
Clark didn't need to tap into his super senses to hear the slap echoing across the ballroom. But, it was the brief silence that followed which was the most deafening.
"Damn," Jimmy muttered, angling his camera, "that gotta hurt."
The reporter cringed and took another sip of his water as he peaked back at Bruce over the rim of the glass cup. His head had actually jerked back and the red mark that was slowly forming on his cheek contrasted with the blueness of his eyes. It was incredibly jarring to see Bruce during his playboy acts but even more so when a flicker of emotion could crack the façade. Apparently, such a flicker could come in the form of a blighted…girlfriend? Lover? Or…
"Fuck buddy." Lois emerged behind the pair dressed in a flowing burgundy gown, arm draped with newcomer reporter Buddy Jones and Clark tried not to groan. Keyword, tried. Buddy frowned but simply picked off the heart-shaped confetti from his tie.
Jimmy lowered his camera and chuckled. "Sources?"
"Catherine Hollandsworth. Heir to the Hollandsworth & Abraham fortune while also being last spotted with our lovely Gotham Prince over there for the past few weeks."
"And what, she got attached?"
Bruce's hand briefly rubbed his cheek but quickly gave a charming smile to the benefactors and socialist surrounding him. His mouth opened, apparently telling a joke, because soft laughter soon followed around the group.
"Judging from the force of that slap, apparently," said Buddy as Ms. Hollandsworth stormed her way out of the ballroom angrily. "That's definitely going to leave a mark. Should make a good story, don't you think?"
The soft chatter from the various socialists and businessmen arose once again, accompanied by the live music of violins and piano. But, Clark couldn't help the annoyance that was tugging at the back of his mind. "Well, Buddy, I'm pretty sure Perry wants us to focus more on the actual benefit than the gossip and petty drama."
"Oh?" Buddy's eyes narrowed but Lois simply laughed.
"What a surprise," she tilted her head, "farmboy here doesn't agree. Yeesh, Clark, cut Buddy some slack. At least he's got stories."
Jimmy tugged his shirt collar as Clark's baby blue eyes darkened but, as usual, her attention had turned back to Buddy as it had been for the past few weeks. It was ridiculous. Lois was treating the kid as if he was the Second Coming of Christ but there was only so much Clark could take from a guy whose parents named him Buddy. He wished he could use his powers to wipe that annoying smug look from the guy's face.
"Y'okay there, Clark?" Jimmy tapped his shoulder.
But instead, Clark excused himself, weaving his way between the people and out of the heavily decorated ballroom with cherubs and hearts, towards the balcony. It was times like these that he missed his home back in Smallville because even if you're on the nice side of Gotham, the sky would still be that ominous shade of red with nary a star in sight. The reporter shuddered. These benefits, for some reason, had a penchant for making Clark feel alone. He leaned against the railing, gazing at the Gotham City skyline.
Because, really, things were already bad enough without it having to be Valentine's Day.
"I need to get out of here…" Clark twisted his mouth in thought until an idea flashed in his mind. "Alfred."
Double checking his surroundings, the reporter slid off the balcony and flew up a few stories higher of the Hotel Pier Marquette. The English butler always accompanied Bruce to these things, enjoying the hotel luxuries as the billionaire waded in the mundane pleasantries of the Gotham elite below. Seeing as the billionaire was a bit preoccupied at the moment, it wouldn't hurt to simply check up on the elderly man.
He didn't want to pull a Batman appearing act on him but…
Clark tapped on the large window. It wasn't too difficult to find, being that Bruce had the habit of picking the same floor and room number despite whatever hotel he would stay at. Alfred, of course, barely seemed surprised as he looked up from his book to spot a hovering Clark Kent, dressed in suit and loose tie, behind the hotel window. He had seen a lot of things in his time.
"Why Mr. Kent," he said, opening the window, "I should ever so I hope that you may feel comfortable enough to simply knock on the door instead of resorting to window hopping.
The reporter chuckled and glided through into the sleek modern living room, complete with a remote controlled fireplace, a crème modular sofa, and dim lighting. Clark removed his reporter hat and adjusted his glasses as Alfred closed the door.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you…"
The butler scoffed. "It's always a pleasure seeing you, Mr. Kent. Shall I be so inclined as to offer you a cup of tea while you make yourself comfortable?"
Clark simply nodded, following the Englishman into the adjoining kitchenette and silently watching as he bustled around, making cinnamon vanilla herbal tea. A soft smile crept on his face as the Kryptonian fondly remembered the times he'd sneak downstairs back in his home in Smallville as a boy. His mother would always catch him trying, but ultimately failing, to make a late night snack. Who would've guessed the intricacies of a grilled cheese sandwich could be so complex? In the end, he'd watch as Ma would make him hot cocoa.
He sighed.
"If I may be so bold, sir," Alfred said, back facing him as he heated the tea kettle, "but is there something troubling you?"
"What makes you think that?"
"Well, you hardly leave your coworkers when you're on a story unless Lex Luthor is on the lamb. Furthermore," he turned around, "that seems to have been the fifth sigh you've made in the past fifteen minutes."
He raised his eyebrows. "…Impressive."
"I have been taking care of the World's Greatest Detective for quite some time."
A laugh escaped from the reporter but he squinted his eyes in confusion when he saw Alfred pour a third cup of tea. Before the question formed on his lips, but the butler spoke knowingly. "I believe Master Wayne would enjoy a warm cup of tea as he's resting in the living room. Don't you think, sir?"
Clark left the kitchenette, wandering back to the living room to see a visibly tired Bruce Wayne lounging on a sofa chair, arm covering his eyes. His legs were propped up on the foot still as his suit jacket lay draped on the back of the couch.
"I would've joined you two but," the billionaire's voice was muffled by his sleeve, "didn't want to interrupt your little heart to heart."
"Does your face still hurt?"
Bruce glared, lips pursed, as he adjusted the ice pack that Alfred insisted he use against his bruised cheek. His eyes turned back to the television mounted above the fireplace.
"No comment, Mr. Wayne?" Clark smirked and gestured his hand as if it was a microphone. "Should we let the gals back in Metropolis know that you're back on the market?"
He caught the pillow that suddenly shot at him without even blinking and snorted. "Really?" Clark inspected the pillow. "Not even laced with kryptonite or" –
"If you want to continue to be in my presence, you're talking will have to decrease. Infinitely."
The television flickered as Julia Robert's character ran after Dermot Mulroney, who was running after the girl Cameron Diaz was playing. Honestly, Clark had no idea what was going on after watching whatever-it-was that they had been watching for the past hour. Aretha Franklin's voice filled the room, her harmonies and background singers wailing to the top of their lungs about forever and love as the chase continued on the screen.
Clark tilted his head, observing Bruce's intent gaze on the flat screen TV. He's known the Gothamite for so long but there were a few of those odd quirks that he was still uncovering. Apparently, one of them being this.
"Didn't take you as a rom-com kinda guy. You going soft on me, Bruce?"
"Didn't take you as a complete wuss. You still avoiding Lois?"
Scowling, the Kryptonian grabbed a handful of candy, compliments of the hotel, in response. The chalky sugar coated his tongue and he scrutinized the heart-shaped candies in his hand, a mixture of Be Mine's, Hug Me's, and My Girl's. He groaned.
"Hmm." Bruce smirked and shifted in his seat. "I'm guessing that's a yes."
"Pretty sure you should be the last guy to point a finger. What about you and Miss Catherine Hollandswood" –
"Hollandsworth."
"So you admit you know her?"
"Is this for an interview, Clark?" he stuck out his hand, eyes never flicking towards him. "You're hogging all the candy."
Clark frowned because, well, since when did Bruce like candy – let alone the chalky Valentine kind? But, he passed the glass bowl wordlessly and crossed his arms as the movie continued. Clearly, Bruce didn't want to talk about his love life just like Clark didn't want to talk about his love life. Because it was currently nonexistent. Now, Julia Roberts' character was making some speech about love and friendship in a women's bathroom? Clark held back his sigh.
"It was either this," said Bruce, "or Madea's Family Reunion."
"…Not much of a choice."
"A Hobson's choice."
"Aren't those movies Dick's favorite?" Clark frowned in thought. "I remember him quoting something from Madea Goes to Jail once during a mission."
He scoffed. "I believe he just watched those to torture me."
"Guessing he's out with Barbara today?" the billionaire nodded, causing Clark to give a small yet melancholy smile. "At least one of us has things going well relationship-wise."
A few moments passed on in silence, the movie playing quietly before them as Alfred buzzed in the kitchenette in the room over, before Bruce spoke. "You and Dick are different."
"There's good different and bad different. I'm pretty sure Lois believes I'm the bad kind."
Bruce snorted. "Well, Lois is" –
"Master Wayne," Alfred's voice expertly rang from the kitchenette, accompanied by water drizzling from the sink, "I believe it would be wise to think before our words tonight, don't you?"
The billionaire frowned, sitting up straighter, "...I was going to say that she's a reporter. She's difficult to please."
Clark crammed more hard candy in his mouth, trying to stifle any amount of laughter. It was odd seeing Bruce, the uncaped crusader, scolded like a petulant child but odder when an insult didn't accompany his words about Lois. The two never seemed to get along-Lois hating Bruce Wayne for obvious, womanizing reasons, and Bruce hating Lois Lane probably because Clark couldn't shut up about her.
"It'll pass eventually but…what are you laughing about?"
"Oh, nothing."
Bruce glowered but it just made Clark laugh more. What was the point in trying to hide it now? "Look, Bruce, I appreciate your pep talk about Lois. I'm sure it almost literally killed you to say anything somewhat nice about her." The reporter ran a hand through his hair. "And, hey, if it'll make you feel better, I'm sure you and Catherine" –
"Clark."
"Will wind up like Cameron Diaz and Dylan McDermott over there. Or Dermot McDylan. Whatever."
"Funny," Bruce said, voice flat. "And I don't date."
"Yeah, the world's noticed. Why?"
"It helps with the cover. I'm too busy regardless."
"Really?" Clark frowned and scratched his head. "I mean, you've always said that but I never believed it. It doesn't seem like a good enough excuse."
He fiddled with the melting bag of ice and cleared his throat. "Like I said, you and Dick are different. It's not one of my strengths."
"What isn't? What do you mean?"
"Being happy."
Clark's mouth opened slightly but he remained silent and, strangely, hurt. He thought that Dick and the other sons had shined a little light in the billionaire's life and that his time developing relationships with the Justice League members had made him realize that he wasn't alone. While their friendship always seemed a bit one-sided, it was still something. But, in the end, Bruce was always a good actor.
"I thought…"
"It's always been challenging for me," Bruce paused briefly but soon continued. "It's a weakness of mine no doubt. But you're different." He glanced at the empty teacup resting beside him. "You're a good man, Clark. I mean that."
The Kryptonian's face softened, not knowing what to say, and it was then that Alfred emerged carrying a platter full of slices of fruit and triangle sandwiches. "Since you two gentlemen decided to leave the banquet quite early, I assumed that your stomachs wouldn't mind something to eat rather than Valentine's Day candy."
They quietly helped themselves to morsels of food as the movie finally finished a few minutes later. "It's funny. You're slap in the face was a real wake-up call for me." Bruce raised his eyebrow but Clark lifted his hand. "I care about Lois, I really do, but we're both just different people. Seeing her tonight made me realize how we're both in our own worlds. She's something else."
Snorting, the billionaire opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it as Alfred walked by. Clark merely shook his head and, while there was plenty of food left on the platter, reached for a few more candied hearts.
