A/N: What I hope and wish would happen after "The Mayan Apocalypse". It's my first time writing these characters, so forgive me if either of them seem a bit OOC.
Disclaimer: I do not own House of Lies, any of its characters, or "When Harry Met Sally"
The end doesn't come. Their imminent demise doesn't either. The Galweather-Stearn/MetroCapitol merger falls through, and dozens of people will live to consult another day.
And it's all because of Jeannie Van der Hooven.
Also known as the ballsiest woman he'd ever met.
Clyde stares on as she delivers her speech on the stage, at first feeling a bit of sympathy for her when she begins telling at least over a hundred people that she fucked the Rainmaker in hopes of getting some sort of advancement.
He feels sorry at first, but then he just feels angry.
Angry that someone would take advantage of his colleague that way, and even angrier at her for doing it in the first place. Sure, he and Doug had joked about doing things like that in order to make their way to the top, but he'd never actually rely on that sort of thing to get him places. Jeannie shouldn't have either. She was too good for that, too smart. She shouldn't have to fuck her way to the top to get there, with her brains and her conviction, she didn't need help from anyone. At least Clyde never thought so.
But the longer she speaks the more pride he feels for her. Women in the room begin to stand up, indicating that they were also sleeping with that prick for a promotion, and suddenly he couldn't be happier. With the sexual harassment lawsuit against the most powerful man at Galweather, there was no way in hell MetroCapitol would do business with them now. She had single handedly killed the merger.
It's nearly midnight when the four of them are sitting down having drinks. The room had nearly cleared out, most of the guests having went home for the night.
He's sitting with Doug at a table behind Marty and Jeannie, watching them talk with each another. Whether it was jealousy that irked him or something else, there was something about Marty and Jeannie's relationship that he couldn't stand. Whether it was Marty's arrogance in being so sure they'd fuck one day, or the fact that he shit on her constantly even when she worked her ass off, he hated watching them together.
Maybe it pissed him off because deep down, he felt like Marty was right. That one day the combination of Jeannie's insecurities and her daddy issues would get the better of her and she'd end up fucking Marty during some downward spiral. Maybe her fiancé would break it off with her and Marty would be her rebound. Either way, he just didn't want to think about it.
But when they're literally only twenty feet away, eye-fucking each other and downing shots of tequila until the bottle is emptied, it's hard not to think about it.
Then suddenly, she shrugs off Marty's jacket, slinging it over the chair she was sitting in, and she's on her feet, swaying slightly when she stands up.
"I'm going to go outside, get some air." She says with slurred speech, and Clyde just prays to the high heavens that Marty won't follow her outside.
"Okay." Is all he gives her, and with that, she heads outside.
Clyde waits only a minute before making his exit. "I'm gonna go use the bathroom." He gets up quickly before either Marty or Doug can protest.
He exists through the same door she did, and sure enough there she is, waiting on the sidewalk for what he assumes is probably a cab.
"Jeannie Beannnnieee…. How's it hanging?"
She turns to face him, an amused look on her face, her body swaying slightly when she does. She was drunk. No, she was beyond drunk, drunker than he'd ever seen her before. She'd been downing drinks all night and then managed to polish off a bottle of tequila amongst only Marty and herself. How she hadn't succumb to alcohol poisoning was completely beyond him. "You always this articulate when you're hammered, Clyde?"
She wasn't one to talk.
"Ohh, most definitely. Speaking of articulate, I came out here to commend you on that awesome speech you gave in there."
"Are you making fun of me?" It comes out the way a five-year-old girl would ask if she were being teased.
"No! Seriously I thought you were fucking great up there. The way you called out that douchebag in front of all those people, that took serious balls Jeannie."
She gives him a little smile. "I'm just sorry it took me so long to say anything. I feel like I really fucked you guys over." She looks down at the ground, her eyes slightly glassy from what could be incoming tears.
He doesn't know why, but the overwhelming urge to comfort her washes over him. "No! Jeannie, don't sell yourself short, you did good." What he does next is something almost unthinkable to both of them, he steps forward until there's only a foot of distance between them, and closes the gap by wrapping his arms around her. Her body isn't stiff like he'd expect she'd be from him hugging her, instead she feels almost limp, like she was broken somehow. This makes him hold her tighter, thinking maybe he can hold her together.
She buries her head in his shoulder and lets the tears come. She'd been holding them back for so long, but she was just too drunk and too fucking tired to care at the moment.
He silently holds her as she sobs quietly. He says nothing, just strokes her back in a gesture he hopes is comforting. He's never been good at these sort of things – emotional things. He'd never been good with comforting people in pain, especially a crying woman, but something in him told him he had to be there for her, that he couldn't let her bottle this up and face this on her own. Couldn't let her go back to Marty's place and simply fuck the pain away, no – he would never let that happen. This was the last thing he wanted.
She inhales a sharp intake of breath, trying to compose herself enough to speak. "I just feel so shitty you know? I knew he was just using me and I still fell for his bullshit! Just like every other girl in there tonight, he fed me all that shit about making partner someday and I just fucking ate it up. God, how stupid can I be?"
"You're not stupid Jeannie. You're the smartest woman I know, and you weren't the first person he sold his bullshit too. People make mistakes, it happens. You'll get through it, and because of you, we all will. That merger isn't happening because of you. You stopped it, and that's something that not even Marty can take credit for."
She looks up at him with tear-stained eyes, her mascara a bit smudged, but still no less beautiful than she always was. "Thanks Clyde, but still, I'm sorry."
"No need to be." He tucks a stray piece of blond hair that had fallen out of her bun behind her ear. She's looking at him with a bright expression now. She has the kind of smile that not only shows on her mouth but also reaches her eyes, a look not even Marty Kaan has ever seen from her.
He wants to kiss her, but he knows how that would go. It would seem like the perfect moment, he'd be leaning in, but then Doug or Marty would come rushing out wondering where both of them had gone. Or maybe he'd just seen too many romantic comedies.
Damn Doug for borrowing him "When Harry Met Sally" on dvd…
"You want me to flag down a cab so you can get home?" He offers. He realizes then that his hands are resting on her waist and her hands are on his chest, (probably for stability, he's guessing) but she hasn't pulled away so he isn't about to point out the fact.
She clears her throat, trying to regain some of her usual composure. She looks him straight in the eye. "I don't really want to go home tonight."
Even in his slightly intoxicated state, the implication of her words aren't lost on him. Hell, that was practically a bonafide offer if he'd ever heard one. He pauses for a moment, completely unsure of how to react.
Was it a trap? Was she just trying to prove to herself that he really was as perverse as she always thought he was and that he was even willing to go as far as taking advantage of his drunk and clearly troubled colleague?
No, that he wouldn't do. But if taking her back to his place would keep her from going back to Marty's instead, then so be it.
"Okay, would you umm, want to go back to my place then?" His voice is small and unsure, as if he hadn't thought about asking her that question so many times before. Which he had, obviously, but he'd never in a million years thought he'd have a chance with someone like Jeannie.
"Yeah, let's get a cab."
He isn't sure if it was because one miracle had already happened tonight, but at this point he's pretty sure the entire world has been turned upside down. Well, his world had at least.
He had this thought due to the fact that he was currently sitting in the back of a cab with his coworker, Jeannie Van der Hooven.
Clyde would be lying if he said he hadn't fantasized about fucking her in the back of a taxi, (or a private jet, or a limo with a built-in Jacuzzi but that was beside the point right now) but what really happens plays out slightly different. Instead what happens is almost better. About a minute after the cab is in motion she leans her head on his shoulder, he rests his head on top of hers in response. Her hand reaches for his and she holds it, interlocking their fingers together. It's sappy as hell, but it's a nice moment anyway.
The cab arrives at his building and he has to nudge her slightly to wake her up. She's a bit drowsy at first, but with him helping steady her with his arm around her they both make it up to his apartment without much of a problem.
When they get inside, he still keeps one arm around her waist to keep her from falling, although she still stumbles a bit even with his help.
She glances around the place, his penthouse apartment on the top floor of the building, a look of approval and admiration evident on her features. "So this is where you live, not bad Oberholt."
"Yeah, I guess I do alright." He leads her over to the couch in the living room, carefully depositing her onto it.
Usually at this point in time he would open a bottle of expensive wine, tell whoever he'd brought back to his place that it was imported from Europe or some bullshit to impress them. They'd each have a glass, he'd tell them what he did for a living, which usually would be enough to impress the woman he was with. Needless to say, the conversation would end with them sleeping together.
But Jeannie's already far too drunk at this point to consume any more alcohol, and he was going to try his absolute best not to sleep with her. She was in the middle of a lawsuit involving their entire company and engaged to be married, he didn't want to make her life any more complicated than it already was.
Although if the opportunity truly presents itself, he's sure there's no way in hell that he'd turn her down. This would be far more difficult than he thought.
He still hadn't been able to figure out why the hell she'd come back here with him. Was it really just because she didn't want to go home and coming back to his place had been basically her only option? Or was there some suppressed part of her deep down, with the aid of her drunkenness that wanted to sleep with him?
"Come on, sit with me." She gently pats the spot on the couch next to her.
For a moment he's paralyzed, not knowing if he should go to his room and turn in for the night or if he should just give in and live in the moment. Who even knew if a situation like this would ever present itself again? Not likely, he'd probably never find himself alone in his apartment with Jeannie, the smartest and hottest woman he'd even met. Jeannie, who he was always so sure was so out of his reach that she'd never give him the time of day. Yet here she was, in his apartment, on his couch, beckoning him over to her.
As if possessed by some unseen force, he starts walking forward until he's sitting right next to her on the couch. He slings his arm over the back of the couch in an attempt to appear unaffected by the whole situation, when in reality, he felt more nervous now than he had in a while. His usual façade is crumbling, and judging by the satisfied yet smug look on her face she can probably tell.
"Soo…" He had to make some sort of attempt at a conversation. "When's the wedding?"
It's the most sensitive topic he could possibly bring up at this moment, (next to the whole Rainmaker thing obviously) and any chance he had of sleeping with her had probably just went out the window, but maybe it was for the best.
As if you really had a chance with her anyway.
She looks down for a moment, as if calculating her next words. "I – don't think the wedding is going to happen actually."
He doesn't know whether to feel bad for her or to be completely ecstatic that she's completely free from any other attachment.
"I'm um – sorry about that. If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"
Stupid question, considering he knows some of the things that have happened. Her fucking the Rainmaker for one, but he had no idea if Wes even knew about that. Clyde doubted it. Based off the fact that she had never talked about her former fiancé at all, she'd probably kept her life with Wes and her life at work completely separate from one another. Hell, she hadn't even spoken of her engagement to him, Doug, or Marty. None of them would have even known if it weren't for Marty telling him and Doug about it.
"I just don't think I'm ready for any of it; marriage, living with him, sharing my life with him. I think I jumped into this thing way too soon. And I've been doing all these terrible things behind his back; I just think it would be better for everyone if this didn't happen."
"How did he react to you telling him all this?"
"I haven't – yet actually. I'm going to tell him everything tomorrow. I'm going to finally own up to all my mistakes."
Mistakes. He thinks to himself. He entertains the idea that maybe he could've at some point been one of them. If he had ever bothered to show her that there was more to him than a womanizer who had the emotional depth of a puddle. Maybe if he'd been different towards her she would've considered him.
Maybe she would've considered them.
He dares to ask the question he'd never be brave enough to speak if it weren't for his own inebriated state. "Would tonight have been one of those mistakes Jeannie?" He has to know, because this unbelievably sexy woman that he'd only ever been able to dream of sleeping with has invited herself back to his place and was currently sitting on his couch, discussing the downfall of her engagement.
She just stares at him point blank in the eye. She isn't angry, or upset at the bluntness of his question. She just sits there, considering.
"Hypothetically if this," she points back and forth between the two of them. "did actually happen, do you think it would be a mistake?"
He answers without missing a beat. "No. It wouldn't be for me."
He must have chosen the perfect words, because the next thing he knows her hands are on both sides of his face and she's kissing him.
He reciprocates immediately by pulling her into an embrace. One of his arms are around her waist while his other hand is tangled in her hair.
Her hands move from his face to slide off his jacket, tossing it aside on the floor, then making their way to hastily undo his tie.
(He'd normally tell someone how expensive the tie was and tell them to be careful with it, but he wasn't one to argue with a good thing.)
After his jacket and neck-tie had been disposed of, her quick fingers move to rip at the buttons of his shirt. (Another thing he'd usually say something about, but he'd let her burn everything in his closet if it meant he could have one night with her.)
He presses her down into the couch, so she's on her back as he looms over her, their lips never once breaking contact. He removes his lips from hers only for a second to place kisses along her neck and collarbone. Her hips arch into his in response as she emits a small moan, the noise almost being enough to make him come before they've even really started.
"Hold on." He pauses for a moment, drawing back to look her in the face. Her eye make-up is still a bit smudged from earlier, a couple strands of hair have fallen out of her bun, and her lips look a bit puffy.
"What? Why the hell did you stop?"
"Um – this is a bit embarrassing. You see I just had the couch cleaned last week, and it's pretty hard to get stains out of it." He's probably killed the mood completely, but he's hoping he hasn't used up all the miracles the night had to offer.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" She sounds a bit frustrated, slightly perplexed maybe, but not furious. Maybe it wasn't going to be a deal breaker after all.
"No, actually I'm not. This is getting pretty intense, do you mind if we take this to the bedroom?"
"Oh for fuck's sake!"
He gets up from off of her, and despite her agitation, she gets up from the couch and follows him into his room.
The second they enter the room he presses his mouth down to hers and they've picked up where they've left off. When he realizes his shirt is already gone, he decides it's her turn. Her reaches for the zipper on the back of her purple dress, sliding it down and letting it fall to the floor to pool at her feet.
The lighting in his room is a bit dim, but he can still see her perfectly. He takes a moment to mentally take in the image of her, memorizing every detail of her body, being unsure if he'd ever get to see her this way again. Fuck. She was even more beautiful than he could have imagined. He almost tells her but he stops himself. She must already know how gorgeous she is, how could she not? Another thought occurred to him. If she knew how beautiful and intelligent she was, why was it that she was so insecure? Why was it that she took shit from Marty and fucked someone like the Rainmaker when she could have anyone she wanted? Suddenly it all made sense; Jeannie didn't see herself the way he saw her.
She takes both of his hands in hers and leads them over to the bed. Her back hits the mattress as he lets himself fall on top of her, feeling her breasts against his chest as he falls onto her. He moves his mouth down again to her neck, kissing and sucking on the delicate flesh there.
Her hand finds its way to the zipper of his pants, pulling it down hastily.
He jerks his head up from the spot on her neck, looking down at her. "Are you sure about this?" She might want it now, but he doesn't want her to hate him in the morning.
She nods. "Yeah, I'm sure."
He pulls off his pants and boxers, throwing them aside onto a heap on his bedroom floor. She shudders when he finally thrusts into her, holding him to her with her hands on his back.
He settles into a steady rhythm, fast enough for her to enjoy it but slow enough to make it last.
Marco always seemed to want to get it over with; Wes always drew it out too much. In this moment she feels so good she's sure Clyde had found the perfect medium.
"You okay?" he whispers near her ear.
"I'm fine just – don't stop." She wants to live here, in this moment, if only just for a little while.
He quickens the pace slightly, causing her to fall into a blissful agony as she borders on the edge of her finish. She comes first, with him following almost immediately after, his body falling limply against hers as they come down from their cloud of ecstasy.
He rolls off of her into the spot next to her, slinging an arm around her as he does so. She scoots closer to him and lays her head on his chest.
They fall asleep within minutes.
It's the sound of Las Angeles traffic far below that stirs her from sleep. That and the slight headache she'd gotten from the night before. She feels someone groan from beneath her. Wait? What? Her head had been resting on someone's chest, she props herself up to examine her bedmate.
Clyde was asleep peacefully next to her, his one arm still slung around her. It's then that the more important details of the night come back to her. She remembers the MetroCapitol Galweather Group meeting…Drinking an excessive amount due to the assurance of their imminent demise…Selling out the Rainmaker in order to kill the merger…Taking shots with Marty…Talking to Clyde outside…Going back to Clyde's apartment and – oh.
So that's what had happened.
She gets up from the bed and picks up her discarded dress on the floor, slipping into it and zipping it quickly.
Clyde stirs on the bed across from her, propping himself up and rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Where are you going Jeannie Beanie?"
She turns around to look at him, trying to hide her surprise at being caught in the act of slipping out.
So much for a stealthy exit. He wouldn't let her hear the end of this, she knew it.
"I have to go, there's something important that I have to do."
"So last night was…" He expects her to say something along the lines of a fluke, a mistake, an anomaly, a rare occurrence on par with alien abduction.
"Very interesting." She finishes for him instead.
"Interesting as in – good?" There's a hopeful glint in his eye.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself. I wouldn't want to inflate your gigantic ego any more for risk of it exploding."
"You aren't denying it." He's teasing her now.
She lets out an irritated sigh. "I really should be going."
"Wait, come here for a second."
She walks over to the foot of the bed where he's sitting, a sheet wrapped around his lower half. "So no breakfast?"
She giggles at that. "You want to make me breakfast?"
"Oh yeah, whatever you want. When we were visiting Spokane, your mom did mention you were a fan of pancakes and I happen to make a pretty mean flapjack."
She laughs at this again. The thought of him making her pancakes is funnier to her than it should be. "I would. But there's something I have to do. Would you settle for lunch?"
"Sure. Where do you want to go?"
"Well I distinctly remember you promising pancakes a few seconds ago."
"You want pancakes, for lunch?"
"Duh! They're good at any time of the day, and there's no backing out on your offer now."
He smiles at her, taking her hands in his. "Whatever you say I guess. You always were a tough negotiator."
She laughs, giving him a quick kiss on the lips before making her exit. From the doorway she looks back at him. "By the way, just so you know, I like blueberries in my pancakes; real blueberries, not the crappy artificial ones."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Oh, and one more thing: Supa Dupa did not disappoint."
She leaves just in time to miss the stupid grin spread across his face.