Chapter Text
Bruce always walked the route that took him past the monitor room when leaving the hall, just to peer in and see if anything noteworthy was going on. This particular day there was an alarming sight, but it wasn't on the monitors. He knocked before entering. "What's wrong?"
"Hm?" Clark took a quick inventory of all the screens. "There is a team headed to Santa Prisca for earthquake relief, and crowd control, but other than that everyone's taking care of their own turf, nothing . . . Beyond normal." There was always crime, natural disaster, civil and social unrest. There was always something wrong, but as days went, this could be counted as a good one.
"You were slouching." For a good day all things considered, it was Clark's dented posture that had given Bruce pause.
"Can't slouch?"
"Can, you don't."
"Clark Kent problems. Beat it Bruce, go home, see the family, walk the dog, catch a nap." Clark was waving off his nosy friend.
"What sort of problems?" Bruce took the wave off as far more of a come hither motion. "Ace walks at seven, no sooner no later, I have some time to kill."
"I made the mistake of telling Lois and Jimmy I was going speed dating on Thursday and-"
"They still do that? I thought online dating replaced it."
"For old fashioned gals like me who like to get to know someone face to face, yes, they do still do that." Clark responded with a speed that implied he'd already answered that question more than once.
"What did they tease you about it? Face to face is statically more efficient. The BBC states it only takes between 90 seconds to 4 minutes of face-to-face interaction to determine attraction, which gives speed dating an advantage over online dating."
"Why do you know . . . There's quizzo after speed dating. Want to come?" Clark had rolled his eyes at Bruce's knee jerk snapple fact response.
"I'm glad you're getting back out there Clark. We've all been waiting for you in the dating pool, water's fine." Clark and Lois had divorced two years ago and Bruce hadn't heard Clark mention pursuing anyone else in that time.
"Lo and Jimmy were the same way, but they had . . . Advice and now I'm somewhat conflicted."
"What sort of advice?"
"Well for one." Clark stuck out a finger, implying there was a list and he didn't want to lose count. "I should be myself, I have a great personality, but I need to be more . . . Direct. Not a jerk, chivalry isn't dead, but I'm polite to everyone, have a nice thing to say about most, keep neutral about my preferences. It's hard to tell if I'm flirting."
"I guess I could see that." Clark was head over heels in love with humanity, it was cute and sometimes confusing.
"I need to be more charming or complimentary, maybe a bit more colorful."
Bruce tried to imagine Clark being more of any of those things. 'He'd be riding in a pumpkin carriage with Cinderella. He'd be a cartoon.' Clark was innately charming any extra would make him seem like he was trying far too hard.
"I have to be more honest." Clark unfurled another finger.
"Mister truth justice and the American way?"
"About myself. Jimmy says I'm dodgy all the time about where I go what I do." For obvious reasons. "That unless it's about cornfields and the Kent's, I don't talk much about growing up or my heritage. I'm friendly but . . . A tough guy to get a read on. That people will see me as dishonest or shady, like I've got some secret double life you know?" Which to be fair Clark most certainly did.
"I'd save the alien origins till the second date." Bruce frowned, he understood the problem now.
Most people got a filtered, watered down version of Clark. Smallville is what they called him, just a Midwestern aw shucks don't mind me sort of character. He didn't leave an impression because forgettable was the benchmark. Clark didn't want people poking around in his life less they find out how 'colorful' he really was.
"Also I need someone else to pick out my clothes."
"What?"
"When I pick out something other than my work blue and beige my taste is . . . Questionable. Lois once asked me if I was color blind."
"It's likely the opposite." Bruce took a long stare at Clark's powerful eyes. They could see through stone, melt through metal, squint over hemispheres. "They're so sensitive you're likely pairing fractures of light most can't detect. The way you see the world . . . I wonder about it sometimes."
Bruce sometimes caught Clark looking and his gaze was always so deep, focused, penetrative. Bruce wondered if Clark needed to focus on objects or faces so he didn't get overwhelmed by everything he could take in.
"Why I like your suits so much B, consistent, from thread count to color scheme, easy on the eyes."
"Practicing your flirting game?"
"Is it working?" Bruce didn't mean to grimace but he was torn, playing the pal was hard sometimes. He secretly wanted Clark's flirting to be genuine.
"Consider me charmed." Bruce wished Clark meant those practiced batted lashes he was sending his way.
"So all I have to change is how I look, who I am, and how I talk." Clark sighed a bit defeated.
"Clark, that's not what they're saying." In reality they were asking Clark to be less his cover and more himself.
"Isn't it? Tell me, would you be caught dead dating a social square like Clark Kent?"
'Yes! Yes I would. I will! Don't waste your time rolling dice, date me Clark! Ask him now you idiot you won't have a clearer shot!' Bruce's mind shouted but his mouth was already moving, pivoting in a different direction. "They're saying be more blunt Clark. When you're on the market you need to catch people with a headline before they sit down and read the whole article."
"I guess." Clark nodded.
"It just seems . . . Bruce, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"You know how there's Bruce Wayne and then there's. . ."
"Brucie?" Bruce chuckled when Clark's nose crinkled. "What's with that face?"
"I don't like when they call you that. It's like they're slut shaming you. Because you're out and having a good time, you're some entirely different person. I mean if it doesn't bother you I guess it's no big deal but-"
"I am different then, a brash bold, unrepentant parody of who I really am. Regardless, I am not ashamed of having a good time." This wasn't about Bruce, Brucie or the bat. "What was your question, Clark?"
"Have you ever met someone when you're like that?"
"Dozens."
"No, I mean like had a real connection with someone, when you're being over the top? A character?"
"Think of it as a lure, flashy, mouth watering, catches the eye, but you can't catch anything without a hook, without a spool and rod. The lure is part of the whole experience but it takes more to reel something in."
"Makes sense."
"I haven't made many connections as Brucie, generally it's not my goal, but it has happened, flirting does work, Clark." Bruce watched as Clark slouched again. "I can help you."
"Help me flirt?"
"There's a . . . Clarkie in there somewhere, I know it. Your speed dating is when?"
"Thursday?"
"Tomorrow we'll go clothes shopping, work on snappy answers and groan inducing pickup lines. You'll make a splash Clark, I promise."
"I . . . Yeah sure, I'll try it, let you do a little makeover on me why not." Clark finally smiled.
"It's a date."