serendipity. [superbat]

data i.

Bruce is admittedly exhausted. Even after spending an entire day passing out every other hour, he's tired in an entirely different way. The previous day when he was rolling over with pain, that felt like the Bat. Like he was getting his ass handed to him, but he had a reason to get up every single time and keep fighting. This, this felt a lot like Bruce. Bruce after he peeled off the suit and washed the gunk off and let the ache set in. Though, he was accustomed to having to pull himself upright and slap on a fake smirk and some cheap charm masked behind an expensive suit. 

He puts on the suit, grunting and groaning as he did so and, at the end of his whining and complaining, he was met with Bruce Wayne's lopsided grin and mischievous eyes staring back at him as he fixed his tie. Bruce Wayne, that had all of the energy in the world to just keep going because he needed to hit up the next party and pull in the next deal. Bruce Wayne that chatted with any and everyone because he was just so charming and had so many interesting stories to tell and probably too many open-mouthed kisses to give. 

He hated him; had hated him since he'd created him. Though he had to admit that he was useful on nights like these, he couldn't help but grimace at the sight of him.

Still, he grits his teeth and revels in the fact that at least he doesn't have to pretend around Clark. Clark, who's sitting in an old, beat-up pick-up truck that makes strange noises when he's parked for too long. 

Weirdly enough, it was so Clark-like, so endearing that he almost thinks of dropping the act just for one night and climbing into the passenger's seat, but he knows he can't. Not at a Luthor even of all places. So, he walks over to the driver's side window and raps his fingers against the glass. He doesn't know how to explain the sentiment exactly, so he just nods over to the limo that's parked at the end of the driveway waiting for them. Clark gives a nod of understanding, but Bruce knows he doesn't really get it. Any of it. The flashiness of the persona evades anything that he would consider to be rational, even with his myriad of names and faces, but he climbs inside anyway.

Clark has flowers. Bruce can't say he's expecting it, seeing how this entire thing was a mask to foil some potential scheme. He hands them over, cheeks flushing pink as he avoids eye contact.

"Ma, picked 'em," is all he says before they're back to talking about the plan.

They talk right up into the first flash hits the blacked-out windows of the limo and the loud chatter of the crowd outside penetrates the vehicle.

Bruce has a headache. 

He has a headache the moment he steps into the venue. Cameras are flashing, like they're afraid to miss a single moment, as soon the Press realizes who he is and he's not sure what he was expecting. This is a Luthor event, of course there would be cameras everywhere. Clark is by his side one moment and is gone the next as some female reporter tugs him over for a statement of some kind as if he isn't a part of the Press himself. Bruce intends to head for a spot in the room with the least people until Clark returns and instead finds himself being pulled over by his arm as Lex Luthor gathers him into his grasp like Bruce belongs to him. The flashes only seem to increase as his proximity to Luthor increases.

"Bruce Wayne," the man all but purrs, "fancy seeing you here." 

He holds out a hand, which Bruce reluctantly shakes, before attempting to guide Bruce away from the crowd. He flinches as yet another flash goes off. 

Bruce has fought under duress plenty. He knew how to be Batman even when he was close to bleeding out. Batman he could be at the drop of a hat, being Bruce Wayne felt like pulling teeth sometimes. Especially right now. There was something about Luthor's presence that made his blood boil. Maybe it was the constant, unwarranted touching without permission. Maybe it was that smirk on his face. Maybe it was the strong smell of overpriced cologne clogging his nostrils and making it hard to breathe. Either way, he wasn't in the mood...