On the Road to Gotham

Batman narrowed his eyes at the jittery bundle of energy next to him, but the Flash just grinned back. Concerned he was losing his touch, he turned his basilisk stare on a nearby police officer. Satisfied when the man paled and retreated to the other side of the commissioner’s office the caped crusader went back to watching the monitors. The Flash continued to twitch and bounce.

“I’m still not comfortable with this,” Superman muttered, stepping up to Batman’s other side. “I know the commissioner swears by this new unit, but no amount of training can change the truth that they’re un-enhanced humans. They’re not prepared to deal with Dr. Imato.”

“Neither were we; now, thanks to his toxins, none of us can get within three hundred yards of him without hemorrhaging to death.” Batman kept his gaze on the grainy, green tinted picture of black attired police slowly advancing on a deli a few blocks down the street where criminal biochemist Dr. Imato had taken several people, including the commissioner, hostage. Though the officers were masked and dressed identically Batman had little trouble identifying one in particular by the easy grace of his walk. “The SCU has been a full time crime unit for three years. They also have experience dealing with Poison Ivy.” It went against his solitary nature, but the vigilante had to reluctantly acknowledge Gordon’s unit was accomplished and had proven an asset to him on more than one case. He only hoped their track record continued, because his stomach painfully clenched at the thought of having to tell Lex he’d watched his lover die a gruesome death.

Superman grunted in reply, then they all watched the SCU successfully apprehend the lunatic that had managed to outwit the Justice League. Hysterical patrons and deli workers were led out of the building, camera bulbs flashing as the media swarmed over the barricades. Dr. Imato was next and finally Commissioner Gordon appeared, flanked by three of the SCU. The older man didn’t look the worse for wear, smiling as he stepped up to the cameras to praise the success of his pet project. The captain of the unit stayed at his shoulder, but waved the other two off. Removing their protective masks they headed towards the waiting police cruisers.

“Oh my God!” Flash shouted, startling a room full of armed people as he smacked his hand to the television. “He really is SCU!”

“Flash, what are you talking about?” Superman quirked a tolerant eyebrow while Batman ominously cracked his knuckles.

The youth ignored them both. “Him!” A red gloved finger stabbed at the poor image of a light haired man shrugging out of a protective vest as the other two officers walked up. “That’s Lex Luthor’s boyfriend. All the rags say he’s some kind of special crime detective, but he really is!”

“Luthor’s boyfriend?” Superman softly repeated.

“Yeah, Whitney something. One major hottie. Raarwlll. Does this night camera get better focus? Superman?” Puzzled hazel eyes lifted to Batman’s implacable mask. “Where’d he go?”

sSs
Dinner was a quick stop in at Stavos’, the stack of casefiles in the passenger seat dissuading him from a home cooked meal. Spoiling himself with Lex the past three nights had put him behind on his work, not that he regretted eating out with his . . . whatever Lex was. He knew the billionaire was juggling a monstrous schedule to meet him as often as he did, and it was flattering as all hell, but Whitney didn’t want to feel guilty monopolizing Lex’s time. For the next week Lex was going to be in Metropolis and he fully intended to use the time to get caught up on his backlog.

Maria had his Styrofoam containers waiting for him. A quick peck to the elderly Italian’s cheek with a promise to come in later and he was back out the door. Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he froze to see a muscularly built dark-haired man leaning against his Toyota. The stranger was dressed in an uncomfortable looking brown suit and had a briefcase sized bag slung crossways over his chest; not what the usual perp looked like, but Whitney shifted the bag of food to his keys hand, freeing the other to get to his gun. If whackos could run around dressed like penguins, there was no reason they couldn’t wear a three piece suit, even one as ugly as that.

Then the man lifted his head and Whitney’s world shifted slightly. He hadn’t seen the guy since he’d left Smallville, but there was no mistaking the angelic beauty poorly disguised by black framed glasses. Well, not entirely true. He’d seen him on the news several times, but the blue and red costume Clark Kent wore as Superman made him surreal. That the world couldn’t link Superman to Smallville geek Clark Kent completely baffled the former jock and he bit his lip, suddenly wondering if he was supposed to know who this was.

With his remembered beaming grin Clark solved his dilemma, rushing forward to embrace him in a spine creaking hug, Italian food and all. “Whitney! My God, look at you!” Look at him? Whitney thought incredulously as he wheezed for air. He was being crushed by bands of steel! Clark had always seemed near inhuman in his feats of strength as a teenager, but there was an air of delicacy to the awesome strength that easily lifted him from the ground that made Whitney wonder if the tabloids were true. Was Clark even human? As the younger man finally let go and stepped back, blushing furiously at the looks his public display were drawing, the blond decided he didn’t really care. Dress him in an ugly suit, spandex, or flannel, Clark was still the endearingly earnest boy he remembered. That charm had once garnered his animosity, but he now swallowed down regret for being too stupid to have shown compassion.

“Clark? Wow, it’s, what are you doing here in Gotham? Mom said you were a reporter for the Planet?” That was one of the amazing things about coming from a small town; no matter how far away you moved, everyone knew where you were and what you were doing.

“Oh, I’m following a lead, just here for the day. Um,” green eyes darted towards the bag in his hand.

With a shake of his head Whitney repaired the moment. “Why don’t we grab a coffee? I’m going to pull an all-nighter anyway, so I could use the caffeine boost.” He lightly shook the bags. “Mrs. Stavos always makes me a cold dinner because she knows that half the time it’ll be lunch the next day. Just let me dump it in the car.”

He took Clark a few blocks down the street to a favored coffee shop. Their waitress gave her familiar greeting after shooting the reporter a strange look, but Whitney’s casual manner reassured her. Over the last couple of months his haunts had grown used to Lex and he made a mental note to tell him of the incident. Lex would probably see the humor in diminutive Stephanie giving Herculean Clark a stern warning glare, a clear ‘I’ll be watching you’. Of course, Lex would attribute the showing of loyalty to the outrageous tips he always left, but Whitney was confident not everybody liked Lex for his money.

For some he was certain it was plain lust.

Once Stephanie had left to fill their order Whitney settled back into his chair, shifting slightly to ease the constriction of his jacket around his shoulder rig. Clark glanced up from staring at the polished tabletop and his eyes comically widened.

“You’re armed!”

If they’d been in strange surroundings Whitney would have minded the high pitch of the brunette’s voice, but he still winced to see heads turn. The temptation was to whack him upside the head, but he stayed perfectly still and raised his voice enough to let it carry. “Of course I’m armed, Clark. I’m a cop.”

“Y-yeah,” Clark stammered, “Mom said something like that.”

It was an awkward moment to recover from, but they managed, talking about stupid little things like the weather until the drinks arrived. Then Whitney piled his empty creamers into a small pyramid and asked, “So is Chloe Sullivan at the Planet, too?”

Surprisingly, Clark drank his coffee the same way Lex did, straight up. “No. She took an assignment in London. I work with her cousin Lois.”

Lois Lane was a name he recognized from Lex’s diatribes on the press, but he didn’t think Clark wanted to hear what Lex thought of his breed. “Hunh. You know, I always thought you and Chloe would hook up.”

Clark grinned sheepishly and shook his head. “I think everyone saw that but me. We e-mail each other and Pete, do you remember Pete Ross?, and I still see Lana when I manage to get home.”

“Lana’s still in Smallville?” He’d have bet money his ex-girlfriend would have set speed records on her escape from Countrybumpkinville.

“Yeah.” Clark’s eyes took in the coffeehouse. “She runs a chain of Talon’s now, but operates out of the original.”

“So did you two ever . . .” He left the question hanging, knowing Clark would finish it. To be honest, he didn’t really care. But back then, he’d hated Clark for mooning over his girlfriend. For being so annoyingly obvious about it and for not mooning over him. He wasn’t going to admit that, of course. He’d survived more ingenious forms of torture, but to say aloud he’d had a crush on Clark Kent would break him.

The brunette’s deep voice pulled him back into the coffeehouse and away from the black box of his memories. “No. Things got weird after we were told you were dead, and then after . . . I guess you could say we never got that moment.”

Whitney nodded, definitely not wanting to think on those times. Whatever had gone on at home couldn’t have compared to how he spent his eighteenth year. Some days he still felt the cold and truth, the nightmares were never far even if he’d locked away the memories themselves.

“So Whitney, are you seeing anyone?” Casually asked, with just the right amount of curiosity, but the detective frowned nonetheless.

“Yes.” It wasn’t like he could lie about it.

“Anyone I know?”

Should there be a tape recorder on the table? “I’m not sure if you know him now, but once, yeah.”

“You’re not going to make me guess, are you?” Clark awkwardly teased and Whitney mentally chided himself. This was Clark Kent, honesty personified. Maybe having to listen to hours of Lex’s rants was making him as paranoid as his lover.

Whitney laughed, not at Clark, but the idea of anyone being more paranoid than Lex. “No. I’ve just gotten used to being close-mouthed. Lex doesn’t like everyone knowing our business and I agree. It’s weird to say it, I guess.”

“Lex Luthor?”

“Hard to believe, huh?” Hell, he still found it hard to believe after how many months? When was Lex going to wake up and realize he was dating a poor country boy turned civil servant?

“But, Whitney, you’re a cop. How can you date someone like Luthor? He’s a criminal!”

The smile fell from Whitney’s wide mouth. He might doubt the longevity of their relationship, but no one treated him like Lex did. “I thought you and Lex were friends. Hell, I once thought you were more.”

Clark shifted uncomfortably, but the earnest expression didn’t leave. “We were, but then I found out just what kind of man I was letting myself fall in love with. Please listen to me, Whitney. Lex is only going to hurt you in the end.”

His first impulse was to deck the asshole, but the blond managed to strangle that one. He wasn’t going to draw the attention such a satisfying action would insure and risk embarrassing Lex and himself in tomorrow’s rags. There was jealousy there too, at the hinted affair. Whitney acknowledged he wasn’t the first in Lex’s bed, but it was different he discovered when he knew one of his predecessors. And it was a guy he’d once wished on. Ten years ago he would have gone with his first impulse and made an ass of himself. Now he wrapped his attention around his coffee mug and counted to ten in the six languages he had a rough grasp of. Clark was just throwing words and what he felt for Lex was far more intangible than what could be spoken.

When he felt in control he met Clark’s tearing gaze. “I don’t know what happened between you and Lex, Clark. It’s none of my business. And I don’t know how long ago your relationship ended, but people change. Lex is good to me. He’s a good person. I’m sorry things ended badly for you, but I won’t sit here and listen to you insult my boyfriend. So let’s just leave the past where it is, okay? Tell me about what your parents are up to. Did your Dad ever restore that motorcycle of his?”

“Whitney, please -“ the brunette started, but Whitney spoke over him.

“Tell me about the God damned bike, Clark, or I’m out of here.”

They talked about Jonathan Kent’s restoration project. Then the Metropolis Ravens’ last season because while Whitney had long ago forsaken his dream of playing professional football he still stayed current with his favorite teams. Clark was barely more of a fan than Lex was, but his father was obsessed so he held his own. After an hour the tension had dulled to a thin undercurrent and they had each worked their way through two more cups of java. When Whitney finally remembered his work it was with admitted reluctance he stood from his chair. Clark hugged him a final time and it was definitely Whitney’s old crush rearing its head that made him think the man squeezed him for an extra breath.
sSs
TBC.