Chapter Text
Clark adjusted his glasses as he stepped into the gleaming lobby of Wayne Enterprises. The building itself was a testament to Gotham’s contrasts, polished steel and glass reflecting a city still struggling to rise from its own darkness.
His cover story was simple: the Daily Planet was running a piece on major corporations taking environmental initiatives, and Wayne Enterprises was one of the leaders in sustainable energy research. It was the perfect excuse to get inside without raising suspicion.
Clark was led through the main atrium by a PR representative, a well-dressed woman with a firm but polite demeanor. “Mr. Kent, we’re very proud of Wayne Enterprises’ latest clean energy initiatives. Mr. Fox has been spearheading the project personally, but I’d be happy to arrange an interview with one of our research leads—”
A voice cut in from behind them.
“No need for that, I’ll take it from here.”
Clark turned just as Bruce Wayne approached, dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit, his usual effortless charm on full display.
The PR rep stiffened. “Oh, Mr. Wayne, I didn’t realize—”
Bruce smiled easily, waving her off. “It’s fine. Mr. Kent and I are already acquainted.”
Clark returned the smile, though internally, he was recalculating. He hadn’t expected to run into Bruce directly, not yet. Maybe that was a good thing.
Bruce gestured toward the hallway. “Come on. I’ll show you around myself.”
The PR rep looked momentarily startled, but she knew better than to argue with her boss. Clark simply nodded, playing along.
As they walked deeper into the building, Bruce led him toward an elevator. The doors slid shut, leaving them alone as the floor numbers ticked upward.
Clark glanced at him. “Didn’t realize you were so hands-on with environmental efforts.”
Bruce smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I like to keep an eye on what my company’s up to. Especially when reporters start snooping around.”
Clark chuckled. “I prefer the term ‘investigating.’”
Bruce’s smirk didn’t fade. “Of course you do.”
The elevator chimed, and the doors opened into R&D, where various engineers and technicians bustled between high-tech workstations. Expansive glass windows overlooked Gotham, and in the center of the room stood an enormous prototype energy core, humming softly with green-tinted light.
Clark stepped closer, adjusting his glasses as he took in the sight. “Impressive.”
Bruce leaned casually against the railing. “Wayne Enterprises has been developing clean fusion for years. This is the latest version, more stable, more efficient. Assuming no one decides to steal it.”
Clark glanced at him. “That happen often?”
“More than you’d think.”
Clark nodded, shifting the conversation. “What about off-world materials? With so much new tech coming in from extraterrestrial encounters, there’s been a lot of talk about corporations trying to reverse-engineer things beyond our understanding.”
Bruce’s expression didn’t change, but Clark noticed the subtle shift, the slight straightening of his posture, the almost imperceptible flicker of tension in his jaw.
“I tend to stay away from things I don’t understand,” Bruce said smoothly. “That’s how you end up in trouble.”
Clark nodded thoughtfully. “A smart policy.”
“But not why you’re here.”
Clark looked at him, playing innocent. “What do you mean?”
Bruce’s blue eyes locked onto him, unreadable. “You’re not here for an environmental story. That’s just an excuse.”
Clark tilted his head. “You don’t think the Daily Planet is interested in corporate sustainability?”
“I think you’re interested in something else.” Bruce pushed off the railing, stepping closer. “I know a distraction when I see one and I know when someone’s fishing.”
Clark met his gaze, calm but unwavering. “You are an interesting subject, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce chuckled. “And you are a terrible liar, Mr. Kent.”
Clark had to suppress a smile. He wasn’t used to people reading him so well.
Bruce gestured toward the elevator. “Come on. I’ll even throw in a few official quotes so you have something real to print.”
Clark followed, but his mind was already spinning. Bruce Wayne had deflected every question about alien tech effortlessly. Almost too effortlessly.
Which meant one of two things: Either he truly had no connection to the weapons trade…
Or he was already ahead of the game. Either way, Clark intended to find out.
—-——————
Clark Kent sat at his desk in the Daily Planet newsroom, staring at his half-written article and tapping a pen against his chin. His mind wasn’t on corporate sustainability. It was on Bruce Wayne.
Their encounter at Wayne Enterprises had only solidified Clark’s suspicions: Bruce knew more than he was letting on. Whether he was actively involved or simply covering for someone else, he was too good at dodging the right questions.
Clark needed another angle.
“Okay, farm boy, what’s with the brooding?”
Clark blinked and turned to see Lois dropping a stack of papers onto her desk, giving him a look.
“I’m not brooding,” he said.
Lois snorted. “You’re sitting there staring into space like you’re waiting for an existential crisis to hit you in the face.”
Clark sighed and leaned back. “I just… I need Bruce Wayne to talk.”
Lois raised an eyebrow. “That billionaire you ran into the other night?”
Clark nodded. “I talked to him again at Wayne Enterprises. He’s way too good at avoiding questions. I know he’s hiding something, but he’s not just going to open up because I ask nicely.”
Lois laughed. “Yeah, most people don’t.”
Clark ran a hand through his hair. “I just need to figure out how to get past the act.”
Lois watched him for a moment, then grinned. “You should woo him.”
Clark blinked. “…What?”
“You heard me,” Lois said, leaning against her desk. “Bruce Wayne loves attention. He’s all about the high-society charm, right? So play into it.” She gestured at him. “You’re a mild-mannered, small-town reporter who just happens to be interested in him.”
Clark gave her a skeptical look. “Lois, I’m not flirting with Bruce Wayne.”
“Why not?” Lois said, grinning. “You’d make a cute couple.”
Clark rubbed his temples. “This is not helpful.”
Lois laughed. “Oh, come on, Clark. I’m just saying, you’re a reporter. If a direct approach doesn’t work, try a different angle. He’s used to people either kissing up to him or writing him off as an idiot. You? You intrigue him. Play into that.”
Clark sighed. “And what? Ask him out to dinner and hope he spills corporate secrets over wine?”
Lois shrugged. “Stranger things have worked.”
Clark shook his head, but the idea stuck with him. Maybe Lois had a point. Bruce was used to journalists being aggressive or dismissive. Maybe if Clark stopped pushing so directly, he’d reveal more without realizing it.
Lois smirked. “You’re thinking about it.”
“I’m thinking about how ridiculous you are,” Clark muttered.
Lois winked. “Just don’t break his heart, Smallville.”
Clark rolled his eyes, but as he turned back to his computer, a small smile tugged at his lips.
—-——————
The Metropolis skyline gleamed under the midday sun, its steel towers standing in stark contrast to Gotham’s gothic architecture. The city was alive with energy, a sense of movement and ambition in every street.
At the heart of it all, Wayne Enterprises had taken over one of the grand halls of the Metropolis Convention Center for a major press conference. The company was announcing a new partnership with STAR Labs on clean energy initiatives—publicly, anyway.
Privately, Bruce Wayne had his own reasons for being here.
He sat at the head of a long panel table, a charcoal suit draped effortlessly over him, wearing the easy, charming smile he had perfected over years of public appearances. Lucius Fox sat to his left, detailing the specifics of the partnership, while PR officials from both companies fielded the usual softball questions.
Bruce let his mind wander, subtly scanning the room. His real focus wasn’t on energy projects, it was on watching for threats.
Which was why he noticed Clark Kent the moment he entered.
Bruce kept his expression neutral as the reporter wove through the crowd. Kent was dressed in his usual slightly-too-large suit, a notebook in hand, those ever-curious blue eyes scanning the room.
Bruce hadn’t expected to run into him so soon.
“Mr. Wayne,” a reporter called from the front row, snapping Bruce’s attention back. “Some critics say this partnership is just a PR move. How do you respond?”
Bruce gave his signature lopsided grin. “Well, I’d love to say I don’t care what critics think, but then I wouldn’t be very good at my job, would I?” A chuckle from the audience. He leaned forward slightly. “Wayne Enterprises has invested billions into clean energy. This partnership isn’t about headlines, it’s about progress. If people want to doubt that, well…” He shrugged. “They’ll just have to be wrong.”
More chuckles. More cameras flashing.
And then Clark Kent raised his hand. Bruce’s smile didn’t falter, but his mind sharpened.
“Mr. Kent,” he said smoothly. “Nice to see you again.”
Clark smiled, adjusting his glasses. “Likewise, Mr. Wayne.”
Something about his tone made Bruce’s instincts twinge. Clark wasn’t attacking, wasn’t pressing him like other reporters would.
Clark’s voice was easy, almost casual. “Your company has made some impressive advances in clean energy. But given Wayne Enterprises’ history with military contracts in the past, some might wonder, do you have any concerns about your technology being misused?”
Bruce barely paused. Ah. There it is.
Still smiling, he leaned back slightly. “That’s always a concern in any industry, but we have strict oversight in place. And, unlike some companies, we don’t sell our innovations to the highest bidder.”
Clark nodded. “Good to hear. And with so much cutting-edge research under your control, how do you decide what stays private and what gets shared with the public?”
Bruce tilted his head slightly, studying him.
“Well, Mr. Kent,” Bruce said, “it’s all about responsibility. Some technology isn’t ready for public hands. Some things require careful management.”
Clark held his gaze. “And you make that decision yourself?”
Bruce’s smile remained. “My wonderful leadership team does.”
The tension between them was subtle, unnoticed by the rest of the room, but it was there. A quiet battle of words beneath the surface.
Clark nodded, as if satisfied, and jotted something in his notebook. “Appreciate your time, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce’s smile never wavered. “Anytime.”
The press conference continued, but Bruce’s mind stayed on Clark. The reporter was up to something. Bruce had every intention of figuring out what.
—-——————
The press conference had wrapped, and Bruce was already halfway through the lobby of the Metropolis Convention Center, heading toward the private exit. His security detail lingered at a distance, allowing him to maintain his usual carefree, charming billionaire persona.
He had given his quotes, played his part, and kept his real thoughts to himself. But there was still one loose end.
“Mr. Wayne!”
Bruce smirked before he even turned around. Of course.
Clark wove through the departing reporters, his notebook tucked under one arm. His tie was slightly askew, his glasses catching the overhead lights just enough to hide the intensity of his gaze.
Bruce adjusted his cufflinks lazily as Clark approached. “Mr. Kent. Couldn’t get enough of my dazzling insights?”
Clark smiled. “Something like that.”
Bruce gave a mock sigh. “You know, if you keep popping up at my events, people might start to think you have an interest in me.”
Clark chuckled. “Well, actually…” He paused for a beat, then shrugged. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner.”
Bruce blinked. For the first time in a while, he was caught off guard.
Clark—mild-mannered, straight-laced Clark—was standing in front of him, looking relaxed, friendly, and maybe even a little amused.
Bruce recovered quickly, slipping into his usual easy confidence. “Dinner? I don’t usually do interviews over meals, Kent.”
Clark raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about an interview?”
Bruce tilted his head, watching him carefully. Clark didn’t flinch under the scrutiny. If anything, he looked entertained.
Bruce’s lips curled into a smirk. “So, what, this is personal?”
Clark gave a small, good-natured shrug. “Maybe I just want to get to know the real Bruce Wayne. The one who isn’t behind a podium.”
Bruce chuckled. Bold.
He could already feel himself wanting to pick apart Clark’s angle. Was this just another tactic? Another attempt to prod for answers?
Or was it something else?
He exhaled through his nose, his smirk never fading. “Alright, Kent. I’ll bite.”
Clark smiled. “Great. There’s a place a few blocks from here, nothing fancy, just good food. Unless you prefer something more extravagant?”
Bruce grinned. “Are you saying you’re taking me somewhere casual? Do you know how rare that is for me?”
Clark chuckled. “I figured you could use a break from five-star dining.”
Bruce pretended to consider it, then nodded. “Alright. Let’s see if you can impress me.”
Clark turned toward the exit, glancing back with an easy smile. “I’ll try my best.”
Bruce followed, his mind already spinning. What are you up to, Kent?
—-——————
The restaurant was a cozy, low-lit bistro tucked away from the usual Metropolis high-society haunts. It was the kind of place Bruce rarely found himself, no velvet ropes, no over-the-top chandeliers, no waitlist requiring a month’s notice. Just good food, quiet conversation, and the faint hum of jazz playing from an old speaker in the corner.
Bruce twirled the stem of his wine glass between his fingers, watching Clark Kent with amused curiosity from across the small wooden table.
Clark had led him inside like this was a normal, everyday thing, as if he wasn’t sitting across from a billionaire who had half of Gotham convinced he barely knew how to tie his own shoes.
And now Clark was watching him.
Bruce wasn’t used to that. People either idolized him, dismissed him, or wanted something from him. Clark, on the other hand, looked at him like he was trying to figure him out.
Bruce took a slow sip of his wine before finally breaking the silence. “So, Kent,” he said, voice easy and teasing, “I’m still waiting for the part where you reveal this was all an elaborate excuse to ask more questions about Wayne Enterprises.”
Clark set his own glass down. “You think I need an excuse?”
Bruce huffed a small laugh. “I think you’re an investigative journalist who doesn’t do anything without a reason.”
Clark leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “And what about you?”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”
Clark tilted his head. “You play the part of the airhead so well. But I don’t think that’s who you actually are.”
Bruce’s smirk didn’t waver, but his mind was racing. “Let me guess. You think I’m a secret genius hiding behind a charming smile?”
Clark chuckled. “I think you’re smarter than people give you credit for. And I think you like letting them underestimate you.”
Bruce pretended to consider that. “Well, it does make life easier.”
Clark hummed. “And yet, you still agreed to dinner with a reporter who’s clearly not buying the act.”
Bruce leaned back in his chair, watching Clark with quiet amusement. “Maybe I was curious.”
Clark smiled, slow and warm. “About what?”
Bruce tilted his head. “About why a Metropolis reporter is so interested in me. I’m flattered, really.”
“Maybe I just enjoy your company.”
Bruce smirked. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
Clark’s smile widened. “I might be the first who actually wants to get to know you.”
Bruce’s smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second. Just a second.
Then he recovered, taking another sip of wine. “You’re good, Kent.”
Clark shrugged. “I try.”
Bruce set his glass down and leaned forward slightly, mirroring Clark’s posture. “Okay, I’ll bite. What exactly is your angle? Because if this is just some elaborate way of catching me off guard, I have to say, I admire the effort.”
Clark met his gaze, unwavering. “I meant what I said. I want to know the real you.”
Bruce chuckled. “And you think a dinner date is going to reveal my deepest secrets?”
Clark arched an eyebrow. “So it is a date?”
Bruce blinked.
Clark smirked, and Bruce let out a quiet laugh. “You’re bolder than you look.”
“And you’re more guarded than you pretend to be.”
Bruce studied him. For all his usual charm, for all his ability to manipulate a conversation, Clark was actually making him think.
It was rare. It was annoying. It was also interesting.
Bruce sat back in his chair, shaking his head slightly. “You’re something else.”
Clark smiled, raising his glass. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Bruce clinked his glass against Clark’s, watching him with quiet intrigue.
—-——————
The night air was cool as they stepped out onto the quiet Metropolis street. The restaurant’s warm glow faded behind them, leaving only the distant hum of the city as their backdrop. Bruce walked with his usual effortless confidence, hands in his pockets, while Clark kept his pace steady beside him, his presence calm and unshaken.
Bruce’s sleek black car was parked at the curb, waiting like a silent guardian beneath the streetlights.
Clark slowed his steps as they reached it, turning to face Bruce fully. “Well,” he said with an easy smile, “this was nice.”
Bruce nodded. “It was.” He paused, studying Clark. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect from this little… experiment of yours.”
Clark chuckled. “And?”
Bruce held his gaze. “You’re surprising.”
Clark grinned. “Thanks.”
Bruce gave a slow nod, still watching him carefully, like he was trying to solve a puzzle that had just become more complicated.
Clark stepped a little closer, closing the small space between them. He reached out, and before Bruce could react, he gently took his hand.
Bruce arched an eyebrow, but he didn’t pull away.
Clark lifted Bruce’s hand slightly and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the back of his knuckles.
Bruce blinked. Once. Twice.
Clark smirked as he let go, slipping a small folded card into Bruce’s palm. “My number,” he murmured. “In case you ever get curious again.”
Bruce stared at him, and for once in his life, he was genuinely at a loss for words.
Clark took a step back, his smile teasing but warm. “Goodnight, Mr. Wayne.”
Then, with a small nod, he turned and walked off into the Metropolis night, disappearing into the crowd like he had never been there at all.
Bruce glanced down at the number in his hand, then let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.
“Unbelievable.”
He tucked the card into his pocket, smirking to himself as he got into his car. Maybe he’d call.