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"--please, Mr. Wayne! Just one dance!"
"--surely you'd like to--"
"--night's almost over and--"
Bruce Wayne stifled a yawn behind one elegant hand, his eyes amused and jaded as the crowd of well-dressed society women clustered around him to beg for one dance from Gotham's most eligible bachelor.
From across the room, Superman signed another autograph and tried not to watch Bruce too obviously. Clark didn't find charity events too boring, since he knew it was all for a good cause, but he knew Bruce chafed terribly under the constraints of his more-confining role.
"Now, now, ladies," drawled a sardonically amused voice: Selina Kyle stepped forward and caught the crowd's attention as Bruce backed off a step. "Let's make this easy. The band is about to start its last song, and I think Bruce owes society one dance--" Bruce bowed slightly, mockingly, and Selina rolled her eyes and continued, "--so I say keep it simple--he asks the most beautiful one in the room to dance."
Chaos broke out as the women clamored for Bruce's attention. His dark blue eyes passed over the crowd clinically and appreciatively...then came to rest on the Man of Steel.
Smiling slightly, he beckoned to Superman.
Puzzled, Superman came up to him, the crowd parting around him. "You wanted something, Mr. W--haa?" Bruce's hand was abruptly at the small of his back, the other sliding along his arm to capture his hand.
The crowd made annoyed noises; he turned to smirk at them. "She did say most beautiful one, not woman."
Various denunciations of "Cop out!" and "Coward!" rang out, but Bruce kept his grip on Superman. Disappointed, the crowd dissipated; Selina leaned forward to whisper something in Bruce's ear and then slink away as well, smiling enigmatically.
Superman tried to step away, but Bruce's hands on him tightened and pulled him closer instead as the band struck up something with some kind of bossa nova rhythm. "No getting out of this one, Man of Steel," Bruce murmured, steering him out onto the dance floor. "Just relax and let me lead and we'll get through this."
It was easy enough for Superman to be light on his feet, and he knew he shouldn't be surprised by now at the grace and agility of his partner. Bruce's hand on the small of his back was warm and supportive, guiding him gently without controlling. They fell into the steps together naturally, their bodies moving as well together as when they fought side by side. Superman's cape swirled and rustled like Ginger Rogers' ball gown, and the crowd fell back as they moved around the floor effortlessly.
A flicker from Bruce's eyes and Kal knew that the staircase was coming up behind him; he let Bruce's body guide him up them to the next landing as the music curled around them, closing them off from the rest of the room. Somewhere in the process of ascending the stairs Bruce had gotten closer to him, his body brushing Clark's, a small smile on his face. The smile deepened almost imperceptibly and Clark knew to be ready for the deep dip that Bruce dropped him into, his cape trailing on the floor. The crowd giggled and murmured appreciatively, but all Clark was aware of was that as he came up from the dip Bruce moved forward even closer, pressing his leg between Clark's in ways that were alarmingly delicious.
The dance was tantalizingly slow and smooth, their bodies in perfect sync, the eye contact unbroken, mesmerizing. Bruce's hand slid a barely-perceptible inch or so lower on Clark's back, just enough to make Clark wish it would slide even lower. Still being moved skillfully backwards by Bruce, he saw French doors slide by them and then they were out on a veranda, surprised guests making way before them, the music fading away as they entered the cool night air.
They didn't seem to need the music.
Bruce's eyes flicked upward slightly and Clark lifted up and over the veranda railing behind him, floating away from the building altogether. Bruce stepped up onto the railing and then out into the air with Superman, as casually and gracefully as if they were still on solid ground, his eyes still locked on the Kryptonian's. He seemed entirely unconcerned that there was nothing beneath them but the sky, the smile on his face becoming--not wider, but deeper and more intimate somehow, as they continued dancing into the sunset-lit night.
He knew Clark would never let him fall; Clark knew that Bruce would never guide him wrong.
The noise of the party fell away as Clark lifted them higher, both of them still dancing, still looking at each other. "They're going to wonder if I'm going to bring you back at all," Clark noted.
"Let them wonder," Bruce said, his voice low and almost caressing, and Clark felt a shiver go down his spine. "We should do this more often," Bruce noted in a somewhat more normal voice.
Clark cleared his throat. "I'd like that."
"It's excellent practice for combat: getting our bodies in sync, nonverbal cues, quick response rate."
Clark felt a twinge of disappointment which he stifled brutally. "Oh, yes," he agreed. "It's almost like sparring, just less antagonistic."
Bruce eyed his face for a while as the dusk slipped by them, the lights of the city far below. "True." He leaned forward and put his mouth to Clark's gently, pulling him close, and Clark suddenly found himself breathlessly exploring the other man's mouth with his own, lips and teeth and delightful questing tongue.
When time started up again and he realized Bruce had pulled back and was looking at him, he managed a small, shaky laugh. "What was that, breath control training? Synchronized close-range lip reading?"
"No, that was a kiss, you idiot," Bruce said, and leaned in to do it again.
When the second kiss was done, Clark began to believe that maybe, just maybe, he would never have to stop dancing on air.