So I just finished the third part in the My Partner series, which means y'all better start reading and commenting; writing for like six ghosts a day on a fanfiction site is NOT a good excuse for my editor when she asks where my manuscript is. It'll be called My Partner's Love and I'll start posting when Hand is done in one or two chapters. As much as I enjoy the cutesy fun fics, the drama that's coming is more my wheelhouse. Start participating, y'all.

-Cro

"Well, what do you expect? These clubs are like toothpicks!"

Clark smiled as he fished yet another one of Bruce's wayward yellow golf balls out of the little pond. By the fourth hole, Bruce was already eleven strokes over par and they'd had to let two teenage couples play through. It would probably be embarrassing if Clark didn't think it was so damn cute that Bruce Wayne, billionaire businessman and vigilante, couldn't putt to save his life.

"How many is that now, Bruce?" Clark couldn't, or wouldn't, suppress the amused smirk on his face.

Bruce consulted the score sheet. "Eleven dinners," he groaned, "and three stories."

"And takeout at the Tower doesn't count," Clark reminded him. "You cook or nothing."

Bruce scowled. "Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?"

"The way you're playing? I think I'm safe!"

With a chuckle, Clark set the dripping ball onto the grass and Bruce prepared to swing.

"Bruce, the hole is a foot away, you can't drive it!"

Bruce frowned. "Putting has always been the worst part of my game."

Aw! He changed his dinner plans to come out to miniature golf with Clark and risked embarrassing himself just for him!

With a surge of affection in his chest, Clark stood behind Bruce. "May I?" he asked.

"Fine."

So Clark pulled himself into Bruce's back and adjusted his rough hands for him. "You're gripping the club too tight," he explained. "And you're too tense. Relax your muscles and just let it go into the hole."

"You're such an innocent Boy Scout," Bruce sighed, but he relaxed his posture and sank against Clark's chest.

"Okay." Clark gently touched Bruce's warm, calloused fingers back into place. "Ready? Pull back a little and gently tap the ball into the hole."

And gently, Bruce Wayne did.

"…I missed."

Clark was flabbergasted. "You… how did you miss?"

In his shock, Clark only caught a momentary glance of the red blur with the fake mustache- but a momentary glance was all he needed.

"So," he said with false cheer. "We're going to be at this awhile. I'll go grab us some corndogs. And soda? I'll grab you a soda." Without waiting for a response, Clark defied human sight and caught the red blur by the back of his costume, lifting him into the air. He flew them to an abandoned corner of the course and set him down roughly.

"Flash."

"What?" Flash cried. "How can you see through my clever disguise? This is a fake mustache!"

Clark bristled. "Is sarcastic really the tone you want to take right now?"

"It's my natural setting!"

"What are you doing here?"

"I, uh, golfing."

"You were spying."

At this, Flash drew back in mock horror. "I! Never! I say, Superman, the nerve!"

Clark instinctively looked around to make sure no one had overheard him. "What are you doing? Don't I have a right to a life outside of the Justice League?"

"Don't worry!" Flash grinned. "We know your face, not your name! And we won't even goo-"

"Who's 'we'?" Clark roared.

Flash recoiled. "No one! Jeez! Hal."

"Flash," Clark said slowly. "I am on a personal…"

"Date?" Flash supplied helpfully.

"Fine. Yes. Date."

"With Bruce Wayne! That billionaire guy from Gotham!"

"Y…yes."

"So none of us win," he said, dejected.

"Power Girl is not my type, Flash."

"But her boobs are bigger than your- no, okay, whatever. Your loss, I guess."

"Flash."

"Yes?"

Clark towered over his colleague. "Take Hal and both of you get the HECK out of here!"

"Ha! You said a bad language wo- GOING SIR!"

Flash just barely dodged the abandoned miniature windmill Clark hurled at him. Satisfied that Flash'd left the course entirely, he walked to a corndog vendor and bought dinner for his date.

….

"Hal," Flash said over the team speak. "Come on, we're going to Philly."

Green Lantern whispered into earpiece from his vantage point atop a giant clown head. "What? But we've almost figured out who Superman's date is!"

"Bruce Wayne, I saw!"

"I knew he looked familiar!" Hawk Girl whisper-yelled from the bushes.

"But that's not important," Flash continued. "What's important is Superman caught me and I accidentally gave you up."

"You what?!" Wonder Woman cut in from the soda line, dressed in a blonde wig and a park uniform.

"Not everyone, just Hal! It was an accident!"

"BlrbbluhBLRbluh."

"Shut up, Fish-Breath."

"Why Philly?"

"Cuz we gotta get the hell outta Dodge, man! Superman said heck!"

"How terrifying," said Wonder Woman.

"You weren't there, Dubba Dubya! Come on, Hal, half-priced Coolies at Shannon's!"

"Blrrrbluhbluuhbub."

"Heck you, Aqua Man!"

"So…"

Wonder Woman groaned. "Just go. We've got this."

Clark regarded the green streak in the sky with satisfaction as he munched on his corndog. "Six," he reminded Bruce.

"On a par four!" Bruce was really adorable when he was flustered.

"Six over par. Seven."

Finally, Bruce putted the ball into the hole. "This is a frustrating game," he scowled.

Clark smiled fondly. Bruce had been such a good sport all night that maybe it was time to put him out of his misery and do something they'd both enjoy.

"Let's say the last hole is game?"

"What's the score?"

Clark consulted the score sheet. "You're eighteen over par and I'm four under. So that's eighteen dinners and four stories, my favor."

"Ugh," Bruce groaned. "Give me a shot."

"Alright," Clark said kindly. "Whoever wins the next hole wins all the forfeits?" It was a charitable deal that would make Bruce feel like he'd at least done his best, and he'd earned at least that much.

"Deal. You first."

Obligingly, Clark lined up his shot through the gnome gardeners. One. Two. Three on a par three. He smiled and started to hand Bruce his club when he caught the eye of a blonde park worker, who immediately looked away and whistled. His face fell.

"Bit slow on the uptake, Kent," Bruce murmured, noting Clark's expression.

"I thought I'd got rid of them."

"Just Flash and Lantern." They were speaking low enough to confound Hawk Girl's hearing, wherever she was. "Wonder Woman's still selling soda and Aqua Man was in the water hazard on Hole 4. He's slippery. I kept missing."

"You tried to hit the water hazard?"

Bruce gave him a quizzical look. "Of course. I didn't want to be interrupted."

"So what now?" Clark cringed. "Now that they know we've seen them."

"You could tell them to beat it and risk them interrupting us and their questions about how we met, and knowing how well you did with distracting them off our date, accidentally revealing both our secret identities."

Oof. "Or?"

"Or," Bruce said putting one arm around Clark's neck, "we can fly off somewhere beyond J'onn's surveillance."

Clark spared a brief moment to point at the bushes he'd caught a rustle from and yell, "Look, everyone! It's Hawk Girl!" before leaping into the air amidst the chaos.

"Wait, wait!" Bruce yelled over the screaming air. "Go back for one second!"

Making sure the crowd was still surrounding a glaring Hawk Girl and Wonder Woman was still running to the dip in Lake Erie she'd left the Invisible Plane, he dipped down to Hole 6. Left-handed and still holding onto Clark with his right arm, Bruce picked up the still-falling club and swung it onto his yellow ball.

Clank, it went, bouncing off a gnome. Clank, clank, gupgupgup. A hole in one.

"Okay," Bruce smirked at Clark's shocked face. "We can go now."

As Aqua Man raised his head out of the water, to the apathy of Hawk Girl's throng of admirers. He heard the air scream, "You hustled meeeeeee," with a chorus of joyous cackles.