Flirting with the Enemy
Author: DebC
E-mail: debchilson@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13
Improv: #22: coincide, languid, soft and exhale
Pairing: Lex/Bruce
Keywords: drabble, m/m slash, sv improv
Series: none
Spoilers: Tempest/Vortex, possibly Red.
Disclaimers: None of them are mine.
Summary: Lex attends a business conference

"Flirting with the Enemy"

Lex Luthor leaned against the wall, silently cursing under his breath. He hated these sorts of affairs. Boring, sycophantic men in dull, cheap suits talking about their pathetic businesses and their even more mundane family lives. Shmoozing, smiling, and trying to lie their way into LuthorCorp's good graces.

He eyed the crowd before him disdainfully, all the while thinking of ways to repay his blind father for sending him on this 'business conference.' It was an excuse to get Lex out of the mansion for a while, and they both knew it. Lex had grown weary of his father's helpless invalid act and informed him he'd no longer be catering to his every whim. When he had, they'd resumed their old, more familiar routine--at each other's throats 24-7. Or so it seemed. Lionel was becoming increasingly disappointed in the way Lex was running the company. This conference was as much a punishment as it was a way to get Lex out of his hair.

A glass of scotch suddenly appeared in front of him. "Here," a quietly familiar voice said. Lex turned his head, following the sound as he accepted the glass. The owner of the voice presented him with a slow smile.

"Did I look like I could use a drink?" he asked, taking a sip. He was shocked to find Bruce Wayne here, so far from Gotham, but after a second examination of the facts, he knew it couldn't be a coincidence.

"How's Lionel?" was his question's only answer. Lex scowled, and the other man's lips curled a little more around the edges.

"Let's just say being here is slightly less nauseating than being home right now. What's your excuse?"

Just then, the languid smile bloomed into a full-blown grin--one that hinted at promises made in the dark. Promises made on soft leather seats or silk sheets. Lex knew them as well as he knew the man making them. Like him, they were never idle, never false.

The thought of what that smile might be offering caused a hitch in Lex's breath. It had been too long since their last 'chance meeting.' Too long since he'd held Bruce and let himself be held in turn. His body tensed--suddenly tingling with the memory of long ago touches.

Bruce shrugged casually. "Same as you, I guess." He scanned the crowd as if looking for someone better to talk to, but Lex knew that was nothing more than a well-rehearsed act. "Looks like they're wrapping up for the day." They being the fools heading this conference. "Wanna go find some place quiet where we can... talk?"

Exhaling--and had he really been holding his breath?--Lex leaned forward, nonchalantly pushing himself away from the wall. "I have a room at the Frontenac... well, it's a Hilton now," he said, offering that as their quiet place.

"Lionel cut your travel expenses again?" Bruce asked, smirking.

Lex chuckled softly. "Come on, let's just get out of here. We can always come up with a better one on the way." He finished his drink, depositing the empty glass on a nearby end table.

"Thought you'd never ask," came Bruce's reply as they headed to the door, as if sneaking off had been Lex's idea all along.