Chapter 4: The Gala

One Month Later

"Clark, hurry up!" Lois yelled from the kitchen as she bent down to work on her heels.

"I'm coming!" he called from the bedroom.

Straightening up, she grabbed a plastic cup from the island and threw it in the sink. She was all dressed up for the gala. She wore a shimmery, grey-green dress with silver heels and had a thin, light green shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hair was tied up in an elegantly messy look with a few curls hanging around her face.

"Why is it that we're always late to things like this?" she asked irritably, but he was already out of the bedroom by the time she was halfway through the sentence.

She looked him up and down before marching over to fiddle with his bow-tie.

"We were late to our wedding," he said.

"No, I was late."

"Only by a few minutes."

"Don't be ridiculous, Clark. It was 30 minutes."

"I thought we agreed to blame your family?"

She didn't answer as she cast a sweeping glance over the apartment.

"Do you have your wallet?"

"Yes."

"Ok, I have my purse, apartment keys, car keys…Are the windows locked?"

He looked around.

"Yup."

"Ok, let's go!"

They hurried out the building and down to the curb where the UberBlack they hired was parked.

"We are so sorry," Lois said as they climbed in.

"It's alright," the driver said, "Are we all set?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Hopefully, we'll get there in time for Bruce's speech," Clark muttered.

"Well, if we aren't, I'm sure he'll forgive us."

By the time they arrived at the hotel, they were 22 minutes late. They thanked the driver, jumped out the car, and rushed inside. The lobby was large and lit by warm, golden light from the crystal chandeliers. A pedestal sign that read "Wayne Foundation Twin Cities Achievement Gala" pointed to a wide corridor on the left. They followed a series of signs and the increasing sounds of chattering and swing music until they finally arrived at a pair of double doors, one of which was propped open. From the hallway, they could see a crowd of well-dressed people inside.

Upon entering the ballroom, the first thing that struck them was the height of the ceiling. The room was already big, but the ceiling made it feel cavernous. There was a stage on the left side of the room where a band was playing. Long tables draped in white cloth lined the walls. They were laden with silver platters of hors d'oeuvres and a wide variety of drinks. There must have been about 200 people there. While Lois scanned the food selection, Clark looked for Bruce. He spotted him several feet away amongst a cluster of people. Bruce saw him as well, and quickly excused himself. He walked up with a hand extended.

"Clark Kent. Lois Lane. Good to see you again."

"It's been a while," Clark said.

"Have you tried the champagne?" Bruce asked as he waved over a server carrying a tray of glasses.

"Well, we just got here," Clark said.

"You just missed the speech."

"Yeah, we figured. We're really sorry."

He and Lois each took a glass and thanked the server.

"What was it about?" he continued.

Bruce shrugged and made a noise that was a mix between a grunt and a sigh.

"Unity. Strength in numbers. Everyday heroes, that sort of thing."

"You don't sound too enthused," Lois said, "I thought you believed in those things."

"I do. It's just, there's a number of people here that couldn't care less. It's a little annoying when they clap for something they don't know a thing about. I actually wanted to invite about 60% of the people here. The other forty are just the big shots that get offended if you don't invite them to every party you host."

"Ah, the struggles of being a rich playboy," Lois said sarcastically.

"Lois," Clark muttered.

Sometimes, he wasn't 100% sure she had really forgiven Bruce for almost killing him. Bruce didn't seem offended, though. In fact, he smiled.

"I know, I sound full of crap. There's a lot of things worse than having people you don't like show up to your party. I just hope they don't annoy the rest of my guests."

"There's a lot of people here," Clark said, inserting himself in the conversation for Bruce's protection.

"Yeah," he said, surveying the crowd, "One upside to having an inflated guest list is that it makes people feel more comfortable. In case they want to hide from anyone in particular…You can try some, if you like," he said suddenly to Lois, who was looking at the food again.

"Oh. Thanks," she said, looking embarrassed before slipping away.

"So," Clark said casually, "Is Diana coming?"

Bruce gulped down the rest of his champagne.

"I called her. Said she might. She hasn't gotten back to me yet, so prob'ly not."

"Hm. Where's Alfred?"

"At home."

"Do you ever let him out?"

"He's my butler."

"Are we talking about Alfred?" Lois said as she returned with a sushi roll which she held up to Clark.

"Bruce didn't bring Alfred," he said before letting her shove the whole thing into his mouth.

"Aww, why not? We never get to see him. Just because he's a butler doesn't mean he has to stay locked up in the house all the time, y'know."

"Well, if I'd known you wanted to see him so bad –" he stopped and stared behind them.

Clark and Lois turned around and saw Diana entering the ballroom. She was wearing a black dress with a deep v-neck, short sleeves, and pleated skirt. She grinned and walked toward them with open arms.

"Hello, my friends!" she said happily.

She hugged and kissed Lois on both cheeks, then hugged Clark. She and Bruce carefully half-embraced, and kissed on the cheek. Clark and Lois exchanged a look. When Diana stepped away from Bruce, she grinned again at all of them.

"I didn't know if you were coming," Bruce said.

"It was a surprise."

A server offered Diana a drink, which she refused.

"So, how is everything?" Lois asked.

"Good, good. Things are busy at work, right now."

"Did you get some new pieces?" Clark asked.

"Yes. We're putting together a new exhibit, and we're also negotiating with a private owner for a Dumas."

"Are they being difficult?" Lois asked.

"Well, she wants to get the best price and make sure that it's going to be given the best possible treatment. I think she just needs a bit more persuading. It's understandable to be anxious when making a decision like this."

"Well, you're very persuasive," Bruce said, "I'm sure everything will work out."

She smiled at him.

"Thank you."

Suddenly, a man with brown hair who was a little below average height and looked to be about 30 walked up to them.

"Evening," he said almost loudly, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not at all," Bruce said, suddenly becoming perky and sociable, "Everyone, this is Christopher Toller of The Gotham Review."

"Hi, call me Chris," he said rapidly and with a heavy city accent as he shook everyone's hand, "Ms. Lane, big fan. You're a ballsy journalist."

"Thank you. Are you a journalist, as well?"

"Nah. I'm more of a reporter."

He looked at Clark.

"Mr. Kent, honour to meet you. That was pretty crazy, being presumed dead, and all."

"Yeah," Clark mumbled, "Uh, what kind of reporting do you do?"

"Ah, interviews, public opinion, da-dada-da-da."

"He's done some very important stories over the years," Bruce said.

"Yeah, when they let me."

"He's brought some bad people to justice."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Chris said, clearly affected by the flattery.

His manner of speaking was almost manic and seemed to increase in speed as the conversation continued, making his sentences run together.

"I only caught, like, three people. They were local politicians. And, then these guys tried to kill me, but whatever. Look, most of my stories are just magazine puff pieces. For example, the one I'm doing right now is like a public opinion poll about who's people's favorite superhero and why and stuff. Totally inconsequential. By the way, who's your favorite superhero?"

They looked at each other as an awkward and confusing moment passed.

"I like Batman," Clark said casually.

Everyone stared at him.

"Oh yeah why's that?" Chris asked.

"He's just really honest. He's flawed, but he knows it, and he always tries to do the right thing. And he doesn't have any powers, yet he's willing to go up against these incredible forces that are deadly even for those who do have them. Even if the whole world turns its back on a cause, he won't. Since forever, people said Gotham was a hopeless case, but he didn't listen, and he's still fighting for it. He's proven that all you really need to be a superhero isn't powers; it's courage and grit. I think that might make him the best superhero there is."

It was obvious to his friends that Bruce was going through a lot of emotions at the moment. Chris, however, was oblivious.

"That's true," he said, nodding thoughtfully.

"That was very well said, Clark," Diana said, smiling fondly at him, "I think I agree with you."

This clearly did not help Bruce at all, as he glanced between them with an expression that was simultaneously dubious, touched, and aggravated.

"What about you, Ms. Lane?" Chris asked.

"Superman."

"I figured you'd say that."

"Why's that?" she asked, giving him a dangerously innocent look.

"Oh, no reason," he said, laughing, "Superman's the most popular superhero, you know?"

Even after she and Clark got married, she couldn't escape the rumors about her and Superman. Some tabloids even went so far as to surmise that she cuckolded her husband for alien sex. Shockingly, some of them pointed out the resemblance between Clark and Superman only to say that she married him because he reminded her of the hero. She and Clark thanked whatever force of fortune or stupidity keeping them from putting two and two together.

"Bruce?" Chris asked.

Bruce looked up.

"Huh?"

"Who's your favorite superhero?"

"Oh, uh…I would say, uh…" he mumbled as he looked down, then cleared his throat, "I guess, uh, Wonder Woman."

It was Diana's turn to be surprised. Clark and Lois resisted the urge to grin at each other.

"Aw, me too!" Chris exclaimed, "She's a total badass, and she's hot. I mean, Superman's hot too, but I'm not into guys, so…"

Diana and Clark smiled, Lois giggled, and even Bruce smirked.

Bruce continued, "Nah, I mean it's how tolerant she is. She's not from our world, but she put her life on the line for us. I think we should all be very grateful that she's been willing to put up with our mortal bullshit for so long."

He and Diana made eye contact, and they smiled at each other. She glanced down and was about to say something when another person interrupted them. A brown-haired woman tapped Bruce's shoulder. He turned to look at her.

"Hello, Bruce? Do you remember me?"

"Uh, no, I can't say I do," he said, shaking her hand.

"It's Elise. I'm pretty sure, last time we met, I left you my number, but you must have lost it," she said with a bit of sarcasm.

Bruce glanced around at the others with an apologetic expression. His eyes lingered on Diana. She smirked and looked across the room.

"'Scuse me," he said before ushering Elise away with him.

Chris cleared his throat.

"Well, it was real nice meeting you folks. Maybe we'll talk again later?"

"Of course," said Lois.

"It's nice to meet you," said Diana.

Clark shook his hand, and then Chris disappeared back into the crowd. Clark, Lois, and Diana stood silently for a moment.

"You two can go dance. You don't have to stay here with me," Diana said.

"Clark, honey, do you wanna dance?" Lois asked.

"Ok."

They headed into the middle of the room.

"I love when you call me 'honey'," he said.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's cute."

"God, you're such a puppy."

They were embarrassed and amused for a few minutes while they tried to figure out how to dance to the swing music. They giggled fitfully even after they managed to achieve what they hoped was a passably normal series of movements. When the song ended, Lois dragged him over to a table with wine because she "needed more alcohol to deal with this," but they got sidetracked by the wares of the desert table. While they sampled some tiny cakes, they spotted Diana dancing with Chris, who was a foot shorter than her. They ended up chatting with some people they already knew and were introduced to a number of other interesting people. Many of them were activists, educators, or members of the press. Occasionally, they did meet a big-wig, but even they weren't too insufferable. They were surprised to find themselves relaxing and enjoying the event.

20 minutes before the gala ended, Bruce approached them and whispered, "When this is over, ride with me back to the mansion. We can have dinner."

"Invite Diana," Clark whispered back, earning him another 'remember the kryptonite spear' look.

Then, Bruce went onstage to present the Wayne Foundation's Revolutionary Citizen Award to a high school principal from Gotham. When the gala was over, he gave a farewell speech and thanked everyone for attending. People lingered in the ballroom saying goodbye and finishing conversations. Clark and Lois found Diana standing outside in the lobby.

"Did Bruce invite you over for dinner?" Lois asked.

"Yes. You're coming too, right?"

"Yup," said Clark, "He's gonna give us a ride."

At the moment, Bruce was occupied with his other guests, so they stood outside to wait for him. A valet brought Diana's sleek, grey sports car around.

"Wow, nice!" Lois said.

"Thanks. If you'd like, you could ride with me, since Bruce is busy right now."

"Hey, what are you guys doing?" Bruce said from behind them.

They looked back at him.

"We were just wondering where you were," Diana said, "I was about to take them, since you're so rudely keeping them waiting."

"Well, don't worry, I'm here now," he said, smiling faintly at her cutting humor.

"Where's your car?" Lois asked.

He gestured down the curb to his Aston Martin. Lois examined it, then looked back at Diana's.

"Which one should we go with?" she whispered to Clark.

"Bruce seems lonely…" he mumbled.

"Oh, fine!" she growled before turning to Diana, "Thanks, Diana. See you in a bit."

Diana smiled, amused.

"See you in a bit."