30/30 - Two Step

by Smitty

Disclaimers and other information in "Opening Credits"

Rating: PG

Sanderson Hawkins looked down at the woman whose legs were wrapped around his waist. His back ached and sweat beaded around his hairline and on the back of his neck. He gripped her hips tightly and grinned savagely, hiking her body further up his torso. He dipped low, tilting her head to the floor and hoping she'd thrown her feet high. He shoved her body to the left, twisting her under his arm and throwing her over his back. A step and pivot and she was back in his arms. Palms pressed together, he pushed her arm up, then stepped past her and to the side, tugging her brusquely around and throwing her over his arm as the last exclamatory notes of "Sing, Sing, Sing" echoed through the room.

He eased his partner down, steadying her on her feet before wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

"Whew," he breathed, using his fingertips to pluck at the sweat-soaked shirt he wore. "Sorry if I was a bit off," he apologized. "I think the band was dragging a little. It felt a little slow to me."

"Ah..." Kendra Saunders replied breathlessly, resting shaky hands on her hips and bending at the waist to catch her breath. "Slow. Uh-huh."

Sand became aware of clapping behind them and turned to see Jack Knight and Dinah Lance grinning at the younger--in body at least--pair.

"You didn't tell me you'd be doing stuff like that," Jack said wryly, then quirked his mouth to soften the admonition.

"Sorry," Sand said between long breaths. "When did we lose you?"

"Oh, about when you threw Kendra between your legs," Dinah clarified. "You know, three, four seconds into the song."

Sand wrinkled his nose with a grin and accepted the bottle of water Dinah passed over to him. "Thanks. I guess I got carried away."

"Ahh," Kendra nodded, still looking shaky. "Carried away." She nodded again. "Ok. I'll be in the bathroom, wishing I hadn't had sushi for dinner, if anyone needs me," she told them, staggering off.

"You think she's ok?" Sand asked gingerly, watching her go.

"She's fine," Dinah assured him, pulling him over to the small table she and Jack had appropriated and offering him a chair. He collapsed into it gratefully and took a long pull from the water bottle.

"We've been people watching," Jack told him. "There's a guy over there who's about a hundred and eight and might dance better than you, but he's your only competition."

"I have competition?" Sand frowned.

"Don't worry," Dinah assured him. "Jack'll clock him in the knee with a two by four."

Sand's frown deepened, the reference lost on him.

"Hey, is that Bruce Wayne?" Jack cut in to divert the attention away from Sand's confusion, nodding across the room at a tall, dark-haired man. "Dinah, you know rich people. That him?"

"Sure looks like him," Dinah answered mildly, hiding a slight smile behind her bottle of water.

"That man," Jack informed Sand, taking a massive swig of his own water as he paused to put his hand on Sand's shoulder, "is so filthy rich, his butler has a butler."

"That's not quite right," Dinah corrected futilely.

"He's so rich," Jack continued enthusiastically, no one's ever seen him drive the same car twice."

Dinah coughed discreetly into her hand.

"The man's so rich," Jack declared, sliding his arm around Sand's shoulder and shaking him soundly, "he's got women lining up to go out with him. I saw him on the news four times last week--four times! And with a different woman each time! And Dinah heard from Roy who was on monitor duty--"

"Missile duty," Sand corrected.

"--when Troia and the girl speedster, the looker, pulled his ass out of the fire last Thursday--"

"Thursday before last," Sand corrected.

"--and said he was in the elevator with some knockout chick who I guess was a meta or something...Oh, and even before that, he was in France of all places, with some diva with legs that went all the way down to the floor, if you know what I mean--"

"He was at the opening night of the 'South Pacific' revival," Sand muttered wistfully. "Box seats."

"-- and then I was watching the Coast City Dog Show--"

"You were watching a dog show?" Sand interrupted, his water stalled halfway to his mouth.

"Hey, it was on after 'Blacksheep Squadron'" Jack protested. "And I had this little chow when I was a kid..."

"A chow? You had a chow?"

"Hey, I like dogs," Jack said defensively. "Anyway, Bruce Wayne likes them too. He was there with some other woman."

"You mean one different from the previous five?"

"Four."

"Whatever."

"So I wonder what he's doing in this little dive?" Jack wondered, drinking again from his bottle of water. "I mean, not that I don't think it's great," he assured Sand, whose left eyebrow was starting to creep up his forehead, "but if I had billions of dollars to blow...so, um, what do you think he's doing here?" Jack finished lamely.

"Maybe he wanted to go swing dancing," Sand pointed out.

"In New York?" Jack asked, slouching in his chair. "Surely there's someplace closer to home. What do you think, Dinah? Why are they here?"

"I think," Dinah said carefully, a mischievous smile on her face, "that is sounds like someone's idea of a perfect date."

Sand's face blanked in recognition first, but Jack was the one who spit it out:

"Bruce Wayne knows Big Blue?"

"Swing dancing was my perfect date," Sand said thoughtfully. "You think Superman is trying to help Bruce Wayne come up with places to take his dates?"

"Like Bruce Wayne needs help," Jack scoffed. "More like helping Bruce Wayne's dates find places to take him."

"That's not possible," Sand pointed out, gesturing vaguely with his water bottle. "You said yourself that he has a different date each time. Superman can't possibly know all those women." He paused. "Unless they were all the same woman."

"Nah," Jack agreed. "There's no way all those girls could be the same person. I mean it's more than just haircolor and whatever. That one girl had to be six feet tall."

"Boys, boys, boys," Dinah said, clapping them both on the shoulders and poking her face between them. "Things are not always what they seem." She squeezed them both into a hug and then disappeared, ostensibly back to the bar.

"J'onn J'onzz could do it," Sand said so quietly Jack almost didn't hear him.

"Who--wha--hey..." Jack pondered this. "You're right." He squinted at the honey-blonde ponytail bobbing against Bruce Wayne's shoulder across the room. "You think that's really J'onzz?"

"I don't know," Sand confessed, still thoughtful. "Could be."

"So he's just morphing into different women to date Bruce Wayne?" Jack looked vaguely distressed. "I mean the guy's fun, but...does he know?"

"You mean that he's dating a Martian?" Sand looked dubious.

"His bodyguard can't be too happy about that."

"What bodyguard?"

"Doesn't Wayne have a bodyguard? Some blonde chick with--"

"If you say legs that go down to the floor--"

"A really big gun?" Jack substituted, with a hopeful grin at Sand.

Sand just shook his head and chuckled.

"She's a hottie," Jack explained. "I just can't imagine that she likes him dating a different random chick each day."

"Because she's hot?"

"Well, ok, say she doesn't have the hots for Wayne. What kind of pain in the ass must it be to guard a guy who insists on picking up a new girl each time he goes out?"

"Point." Sand studied the people on the other side of the room. "I don't see a bodyguard. Where is she?"

"I dunno," Jack admitted. "I haven't seen her in a while."

"In a while tonight or in a while, since you've been obsessed with this Bruce Wayne's Social Life thing?"

"She used to trail him around," Jack explained. "She was tall and skinny and looked like she wanted to bite his head off and chew on it. And she's not here tonight. And I haven't seen her in...well, a while."

"Maybe she quit," Sand suggested. "Or maybe he fired her." His eyebrows raised as something occurred to him. "Maybe J'onzz is guarding Wayne. That'd be a hell of a cover, wouldn't it?"

Jack's eyebrow shot up. "You think they're..." He glanced sideways at Sand. "You know?"

"Jack," Sand admonished. "Not everyone's so--" He trailed off as he thought about it.

"There's probably something extremely wrong with me," Jack murmured softly, sliding one hand into his pocket, "but I think it's time to go home."

Sand watched Bruce Wayne nuzzle the cheek of the petite woman dancing to "All That Jazz" with him and bit the inside of his cheek.

"I think that's probably a good idea," he replied, his voice husky.

"Ok, I'm back," Kendra announced, coming up behind them with Dinah. "What'd I miss?"

Jack and Sand shared a look and smiled.

"Nothing," Sand told her. "Nothing at all."

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