Fourth Time's The Charm

The third time he blamed it entirely on Bruce

He had just arrived at Wayne Enterprises where the gala was being held. The charity gala was as extravagant as it would be. But the talk of town isn't the gala itself but the billionaire playboy, Bruce Wayne. As usual, stealing people's attention from left to right. The man exudes power, grace, endearing aloofness and a constant flirtatious nature.

A mask he knew so well.

His thoughts drifted to their last battle. He didn't know what happened. He just woke up at the Watchtower's medical bay with Bruce by his side. Bruce was surprisingly attentive to Clark's temporary immobile condition.

Strange.

Normally he'd get a lengthy ass - chewing for being easily distracted. He can't even feel guilty, using his weak state to get Bruce's affections.

Yep, this is how low he sunk.

The Daily Planet sent him to cover the latest charity gala as well as getting an exclusive from Bruce Wayne, himself. He headed towards the ballroom. A sea of well dressed people greeted him. He raised his head to spot Bruce. When he saw him, he smiled and made his way.

After grunting, squeezing and constantly muttering words of "excuse me's" and "sorry's", he reached his goal. What he saw stopped him on his tracks.

Bruce, as handsome and charismatic as he can be, in an Armani suit, perfectly tailored for his body. But that's not what made his heart grow cold.

Not Bruce. Never Bruce.

But the scantily clad woman wrapped around him. Perfectly manicured hands clinging to him as if he would get away any minute, silky blonde hair, blue eyes, red lips--

"Brucie, you look so handsome tonight, il mio amore, so dashing."

And an accent. A European accent. His jaw clenched. He tried the breathing exercises he taught himself in situations like this.

Would Bruce like him more if he has an accent?

He thought of seducing Bruce with his Kryptonian accent. Would he find it odd? Laughable? Would he like him to be more human? Maybe his Kansan accent? He halted.

Now, that's creepy...and stupid.

He shook his head at the ridiculous thought. Clark caught his eye and suddenly Bruce's eyes were filled with recognition.

"Mister Camp, how nice of you to be here. My date, Lisa Costello. Daughter of the Costello Family, a well - known business merger in Italy."

"It's Kent, sir. The Daily Planet sent me. Could I get an interview, please?" He said sourly. Purposely ignoring Bruce's introduction of the woman. He saw Bruce's eyebrow arch at the sudden dismissal.

"Well, sure, sure. I'm in a really good mood tonight because of this beauty in my arms." Bruce said seductively, gazing down at the woman. His hand making its way to the woman's ass. The woman in return screeched in delight making his ears ring.

Could this woman be anymore annoying?

"Oh, Brucie, you naughty boy. If you don't stop, I'll have you tied down." The woman teased playfully smacking Bruce's chest, clearly liking the action.

"Why that would be a lovely end, my darling. I'll be on my knees begging you to punish me." Bruce whispered in the woman's ears. She gasped, cheeks hinting a blush. She leaned up at Bruce. Her heated gaze at his.

She's going to kiss him.

He looked at Bruce, saw the heat in his eyes.

He's going to let her.

Before he could process what he's doing, he stomped towards the pair and snatched Bruce's face to his, molding their lips together. He felt Bruce's inward gasp. He heard a collectable shocked breaths around him as well as the tramp by their side.

Oh, Rao, how many times did he stare at these lips? Imagining what they would feel like. Now he knew. Bruce has the greatest lips. He would--

Clark felt a soft snort at his lips. He widely opened his eyes and reality began to set in. He slowly peeled his lips from Bruce's. He looked around stiffly. And the people had gathered to them, their mouths hanging open in shock.

...

...

...Shit.

He gazed at Bruce struggling to hold his laughter. His eyes filled with amusement. Clark cleared his throat.

"That's...how they greet...in Italy." Of all the freaking excuses.

The woman blinked and picked her mouth up, showing a bright smile.

"That is right! My nonno and nonna do that to my brothers and me all the time. Especially if we haven't seen each other for a long time. It's what my family do in Italia!" She exclaimed, laughing in delight. Clark was only relieved at her naivety.

"Well, I don't know about that. It felt like French to me." The crowd erupted in laughter. He flushed. Embarrassment filling his bones.

"...Could I get a raincheck?" His voice breathy.

"Sure, Mister Kent. I'm curious to learn all the greeting traditions that you know." Bruce's amused eyed never leaving Clark's as he sipped his champagne. He nodded and headed towards the exit. If someone approach him now, they would surely mistake him for a tomato.

No story. No exclusive interview. Yet he couldn't get himself to feel defeated. Instead he felt lightheaded.

He touched his lips.

Soft and full.

He thought of his excuse.

Bruce is never gonna let me live this one down.

************
Author's note:

Il mio amore - my love
Nonno - grandfather
Nonna - grandmother

P.S.
I don't know if they greet like that in Italy. (I'm sure they don't 😅) I just wanted to make the story more interesting. So it's all entirely fictional.