Stringer

Bruce Wayne wakes up. Looks around instinctively for any threats and takes a deep breath when the empty walls of his bedroom and the sound of Alfred footsteps getting closer are the only things he can perceive.

Two knocks are heard from the door.

"Come in," says Bruce, moving his body to sit on one side of the bed while the door opens and his butler comes in.

"Good morning, sir" greets Alfred neutrally with a tray that he puts on the round table in the middle of the gray sofa set a bit away from the bed, then he walks towards the curtains and moves them to the side to let the sunbathe the room with its rays.

"Good morning, Alfred" greets back the other, standing from the bed and walking to the adjacent bathroom.

"Today, you have a meeting with some shareholders regarding the upcoming Wayne Industries' projects" starts the butler " after that, there's a lunch appointment with the governor followed by four visits to public schools and finally, tonight is your third monthly fundraiser party, this time in Metropolis, for the building of a new orphanage and reparations of the old one" informs Alfred while preparing the set of clothes his employer would wear that day and then going to the round table to start pouring coffee in a cup.

Bruce comes out of the bathroom still drying his hair with a towel and chuckling at the dismissive look Alfred directs at him for such an act. He starts getting dressed methodically, absentmindedly taking the cup offered by his butler, sips on it a few times, takes some papers from his nightstand, finishes buttoning his shirt, and walks to the door.

"Where would you prefer breakfast, Master Bruce?" asks Alfred just a step behind the other.

"My office" responds to the man, focused on the paper on his hand and ignoring the disparaging sigh leaving his butler's lips.

"Very well, sir," says the butler "your breakfast will be served shortly after you settle behind your desk like always" states Alfred "Let's hope that one of these days I'll get the welcome surprise of using the actual dining room" comments the butler.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Alfred" expresses Bruce amused, watching the butler go down the stairs shaking his head twice.

As predicted, Bruce is sitting behind his desk going through paperwork when Alfred brings breakfast on a silver tray, under his arm a package of different newspapers and tabloids. He puts everything within reach of his master and retreats to a corner to dust.

Bruce eats some breakfast and with a sigh takes hold of one of the newspapers near the tray. He takes a breath and opens the paper. The man purses his lips at the headline that meets his eyes.

'Playboy Millionaire Bruce Wayne chumming up with politicians, should we be worried? '

The article talks about the event he attended the night before emphasizing on the people he spoke with and who could be his next conquest from the models he interacted with.

Bruce checks a few more papers feeling a throb of pain starting on his temple with each outrageous headline he reads. He's contemplating if it's too much to set the papers on fire when a small headline, one is almost hidden by the bigger and more offensive one, catches his attention.

'Bruce Wayne, the protector underneath the playboy persona'

This article isn't as long as the other one, but it depicts the facts Bruce wished that others would have focused on; how he made sure to secure sponsorship for repairs of public places, his donations were mentioned but as a duty and the writer instead tries to paint Bruce in a more approachable light.

Curious, the man checks for a byline and only finds the initials C. K, at the start of the article. However, thanks to the words on that paper, Bruce feels a small weight leaving his shoulders and continues browsing the leftover papers.

He finds a few more writings with similar style and prose; he takes a pair of scissors, ignoring the questioning look from his butler, cuts the articles and puts them together in a small clipping pile.

Bruce checks the clippings for bylines, finds another set if C. K. initials but nothing more. He checks the last four newspapers and hits the jackpot when he finds an article about a robbery being stopped just in time for no casualties to happen. The byline on this one shades light to the meaning behind the initials.

"Clark Kent" he murmurs, testing the name out loud, liking the sound of it and wondering how the insightful journalist would look like.

"The author?" asks Alfred, putting a glass of juice on the desk "author?" wonders Bruce with well-hidden eagerness.

The butler walks to one of the bookshelves standing proud in the office, takes out a well-cared hardcover from the upper right corner of it and brings it to his master. Bruce checks the summary on the back, noticing that it's a thriller published around three years ago and it's the first in a trilogy.

He opens the book and feels his breath shorten momentarily when he sees the picture inside; a strong jaw, high cheekbones, a finely chiseled nose, stylish ebony hair with a slight wave at the end of some tresses… and the most breathtaking shimmering blue eyes he has ever seen. Bruce is completely mesmerized.

He comes out of his trance at the sound of Alfred clearing his throat. With a slight dusting on his cheeks, Bruce reads the description below the photo that caught his attention in the first place.

'Clark Kent, thirty-two years old, author and freelance journalist from Smallville. He worked in local newspapers for a few years and later on moved to the big city (Metropolis) to expand his boundaries. Became an author at the age of twenty-seven becoming a best seller just two years after his debut as a writer. Currently settled in Metropolis with side trips to other places like Gotham and Central city in search of inspiration or a good scoop. '

' Thirty-two, that means that he should be around thirty-five now' Bruce muses to himself comparing that they are only two years apart in age 'I wonder if he' s still residing in Metropolis. The newspaper where I saw that his articles are from more places than Gotham… I'll have to investigate,' he concludes with a gleam in his eyes.

"Are you planning to read the book, sir?" asks Alfred, holding back his amusement at the telling signs from his master.

"Ah, yes Alfred. I' m curious about his writing style. I wonder if it's the same as the one in his articles" answers Bruce with a pleased smile on his face "Very well sir, enjoy your reading, I'll let you know when it's time to leave for the meeting" informs the butler, picking out the dishes to put them on the tray resting on the desk and taking the said tray out of the room with him, an accomplished little smile on his face which his master completely misses as he is completely engrossed in his reading.

Clark Kent wonders sometimes if he should ignore his upbringing and just punch people in the face. He's currently being chewed out by one of his employers for not making the article he submitted juicier and appealing to a specific group of people.

He struggles to keep his temper, He's usually quite easy going and quite difficult to provoke. However, some topics can be triggering for him. One of them is the hiding of the truth to gain popularity, the other is backstabbing people, and lately, the topic that can make him lose his cool with just a few jabs is the one he's listening about right at the moment.

The elusive millionaire Bruce Wayne. One of the main reasons why Clark follows the saying 'don' t judge a book by its cover' and 'there are two sides of a coin' almost to at.

The editor in chief stops his tirade bringing Clark from his musings. The reporter stays quiet and nods in the proper places; the chief grudgingly accepts posting his work and dismisses him with the warning of getting better scoops or else… Clark says some pleasantries and leaves the office, taking a deep breath after doing so, he waves at a few people he knows and exits the place.

Clark walks a couple of blocks and looks around; he's been in Gotham in the last couple of weeks, the darkness that sometimes clings to the city is a perfect tool for his books. He sees the logo of Wayne Industries at a distance and the thought of Bruce rears its head once again, this time making him blush.

At first, he was skeptical about the man but a year and a half ago he got a tip from someone with exclusive info about the millionaire, and that's how he discovered the heart of gold hidden under a perfect facade of luxury and what people consider an arrogant and condescending personality.

Since then, he's been obsessing over shading some subtle light here and there over Bruce's extravagant and exaggerated deeds. Many mock him for his optimism, but as long as his work gets posted on the news, he won't complain.

That said man's looks are drop-dead gorgeous is a plus too.

A notification ring brings him back to the present. There are two messages; one is the signing of his third book the coming weekend, the other makes his heart skip a beat. A short itinerary of Bruce Wayne's activities that day and a side note detailing when it would be best to try to get some material for his next article.

Clark sends his thanks with a giddily, and with a smile on his face starts to plan his strategy for the day. He has a dark, tall, and handsome man to write about, and he couldn't wait to see him even if it's only from behind the lens of his camera.

The fundraiser party is in full swing, and Bruce Wayne is mentally murdering people and wondering why he's there in the first place instead of sitting down on his armchair enjoying the complex and engaging writing of a handsome freelance reporter. He would then receive a text from his butler reminding him to behave and to think about the purpose of the money he's donating.

That would calm him a bit; he would then put on a fake smile, shake hands and laugh over stupid jokes for a while more, excuse himself, take some air in a corner and start all over again.

The flash of a camera interrupts his thoughts and he looks at the gaggle of reporters competing against each other for the best angle, talking over the other making Bruce's ears ring and his head throb in pain. With a lopsided smile towards the cameras, he sneaks out to have some breathing room.

He walks to one of the balconies and breathes in the night air. He contemplates the sky for a moment, wondering about the last time he could discern the stars when the tapping sounds catches his attention.

Bruce looks to his right and feels his breath catch. His heart rate accelerates while he drinks the vision before him.

Wearing a modest gray suit, some of his hair falling over one side of his face, sitting on one of the chairs the balcony provides and completely immersed in his writing, is the person who's been present in his mind since that morning; the one and only Clark Kent.

Bruce feels his throat go dry and clears it. The sound startles the journalist and he looks up. Stormy blue eyes lock with sky blue ones and both feel a sensation running down their spine that they couldn't explain, except for instant attraction.

Clark snaps of it first, closes his laptop and stands up a bit clumsily.

"Good evening Mr. Wayne" greets the reporter, being thankful for the dim light that covers the darkening of his cheeks.

Bruce drinks him in, enjoying the opportunity of having the younger man a short distance from him. He takes a few steps toward Clark, remembering that the reporter is waiting for his response.

"Good evening…" he wonders if he should acknowledge that he knows about him, and decides to be honest "Mr. Kent" he finishes in almost a purr, enjoying the slightly visible blush staining Clark's cheeks, now discernable after getting closer.

The reporter clears his throat this time and hopes not to stammer his next words "Clark please, I don't like formalities if I can help it" he mentally pats himself on the back for that.

"Then likewise you should call me Bruce," says the millionaire with a chuckle, getting to a touching distance from the other "Oh no, I shouldn't…" Bruce takes Clark hand and places a butterfly kiss on the back of his palm "I insist"

Clark gasps at the action" B-ruce… "He stammers, mentally cursing his racing heart "Thank you for accepting my request… Clark" says the millionaire seductively, Tracing small circles with his thumb on Clark's hand.

The reporter knows that he could break that grip quite easily, but the skin contact between them is making him feel literal butterflies inside him "don't mention it" he responds, biting his lip in order not to say something embarrassing.

The sound of laughter and cheers breaks the moment, and both step back. Bruce feels a bit disoriented and asks himself how he can miss Clark's warm skin after such short contact, but he does and wants to touch him again. He also can't stop looking at the reporter worrying his lips and wonders what they would taste like.

The sound of a man greeting and thanking everyone for coming brings Bruce back from his daydreaming.

"It seems that is time for me to go back" states the millionaire with a rueful smile on his face.

Clark nods at his words "It's a pleasure to meet you...Bruce" says the reporter with a friendly smile of his own, and the other drinks in the expression once again, and hunger for more like a starving being.

"Oh no…" he murmurs, getting closer once more; making sure that his mouth caresses the shell of the reporter's ear and enjoying the slight tremble of his body" the pleasure is all mine…Clark " he says huskily, laying his hand softly against the other chest, satisfied with not being the only one with an accelerated heartbeat" I look forward to this weekend, make sure to save an autograph for me" he comments, stepping back and walking to the balcony entrance "Don't be a stranger. I'll be glad to grant you an interview soon. Call me to that number anytime and I'll be sure to answer"

Clark looks at him confused for a moment, Bruce indicates his breast pocket; the reporter looks down and gasps surprises when he sees a blue-bordered card in his pocket. He takes out and notices a personal phone number, with a shy smile he nods towards the millionaire

Bruce smiles genuinely back for a moment, and then it turns into a flirty one. With a wave, Bruce Wayne walks away, planning many ways for them to meet and planning the many ways to court one alluring Clark Kent.

He's so immersed in his plans, that he completely misses the predatory look the journalist directs at him. He takes out his phone, saves Bruce's number and makes a call.

"Yes?" a British accented voice asks neutrally "just like you planned" answers Clark "perfect. See you this weekend Mr. Kent" affirms the voice "see you, Alfred, take care" responds the writer "you too, Mr. Kent" and the call ends.

Clark chuckles, and wonders what would be Bruce's reaction when he discovers that his butler is acting as a match-maker behind his back, not that he's complaining. The moment he laid eyes on Bruce he felt his passion awaken and the urge to get closer became almost a stabbing pain in his chest. Having an inside man is a great bonus, but even without one, he'd still do anything to have a chance to be with the enigmatic Bruce Wayne.

One last look at the entrance and he sees the millionaire, fake smile in place, taking the mic to give his speech. Clark shakes his head, takes out his trusty notepad and starts writing away. Feeling a warm feeling blossoming from his chest at the thought of this coming weekend, and the probable meetings from thereon.

The End