CLAIR DE LUNE
Summary: 'Twas the night after Dan and Serena's wedding, and all through Chuck and Blair's house, not a creature was stirring, especially not Eric, Nate, and Jenny! When the singletons of the group go out for a wild night on the town, Nate and Jenny must fake a relationship in order to save his mayoral run. But when does the acting stop, and the loving begin? Rated T for now, may change to M later. A Nate and Jenny story, with lots of married Chuck and Blair, matchmaking little Henry, and wisecracking Eric.
Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Gossip Girl universe, not even (sadly) Chuck or Nate. Major props to Cecily von Ziegesar, the CW, the producers, actors, and crew, and everyone involved with bringing these amazing characters to life.
Chapter 4 – Behind Every Good Man Is...
The business tycoon that everyone in town called the Silver Fox stood up, and so did everyone else seated at the conference table.
"Congratulations, Archibald," said Walter MacMahon. "You've got yourself a committee! Bass, between the two of us, I believe we're going to make a mayor out of this one!"
Nate and Chuck were the last two out of the meeting. His best friend clapped him on the back as they walked down the hall to his office.
"My skills astound even me," was Chuck's assessment, as soon as he was settled into one of the comfortable leather chairs in front of Nate's desk. "That was the last one. Looks like you've got yourself a campaign committee, Nathaniel."
"Exploratory committee," Nate corrected. "I wonder what they'll come up with for my state convention speech. Samuelson says he's got a crack speechwriter in his PR department who's second to none."
"You're making all the right moves. Including with that media date yesterday... we couldn't have asked for better PR."
"Yeah."
"So how did things really go?"
"With?"
"You know who with, Nathaniel. Surely you aren't that dense."
Nate didn't say anything. He thought about all the time he'd spent with Jenny over the past few days. Suddenly, he found that it wasn't something he wanted to discuss with Chuck.
"It's going fine. Jen's a good sport for going along with it."
"Going along with it, hm? Is that all?"
Nate shrugged. "Yes, that's all. We learned from the best schemers in town, dude."
Chuck smirked. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Dinner tonight to celebrate?"
"No, not tonight. We've got the Spectator holiday party..."
Frown, then a glance of recognition. "Of course. Blair and I will be there, but only for a couple of hours. We're heading over to FAO Schwartz afterward." Chuck and Blair were famous for shopping for Henry at night, because they insisted on purchasing all of his clothing and toys themselves. With a call from one of their assistants, any and all doors in Manhattan were open after hours for the young billionaire couple.
"Nice."
"Need us to pick up anything, Uncle Nate?"
"Of course not," scoffed Nate. "When have you known Uncle Nate to ever give anything less than the best gifts? We're all set."
"With the hours you've been working lately? And we're all set?"
Nate inwardly groaned. Trust Chuck never to let things lie. The brunettes of the Non-Judging Breakfast Club were famous for digging until they found something useful.
"Jen and I are going shopping together this weekend, Chuck. It's her tradition, the Humphreys always go right before the holidays."
"You seem to know a great deal about your fake girlfriend."
"Man, don't even start," Nate snapped. "We had breakfast together this morning and we talked a little."
"Breakfast... in bed?"
Nate just glared at his best friend.
Chuck grinned knowingly.
"It's not even like that and you know it," Nate said crossly, thinking about the extra long showers he'd had to take the afternoon and the night before, as well as that morning. Multiple daily showers seemed to be a feature of this fake relationship, he reflected.
"Because you're an idiot."
"Not everyone is trying to settle down in our twenties, Chuck."
"You were almost engaged to my wife at sixteen, Nathaniel. Even Humphrey beat you to the altar..."
But Chuck stopped when he got a glimpse at Nate's face. Nate knew that Chuck was misreading him. Sure, Serena's rejection had hurt him at the time, but that rejection had happened many years ago and he'd moved on.
But Chuck was uncovering one source of growing insecurity for Nate... the fact that while his other friends were marrying off and starting families, he really hadn't been able to sustain a relationship since Blair for more than a few months. That was why, after Sage, he'd decided to take a break for a while.
He had no idea when "a while" turned into five years.
And it wasn't as if Nate really wanted marriage and children, at least, not right now. He was used to Chuck's smug satisfaction over being married and committed to his family. In the beginning, it always amused Nate that his renegade playboy of a best friend had been (almost) completely domesticated by Blair. Today, for some reason, Nate was just irritated by it all.
"Anyway," Nate changed the subject. "We're going to be just fine until the state convention, and I feel like I'm getting closer to one of my old friends."
Chuck stood up. "All right, enjoy being single and lonely. I need to head into the office before I have lunch with my wife. I'll see you tonight, Nathaniel... and I dearly hope you're not wearing that tie. Send word if you need us to send something over more suitable."
Nate watched his best friend go, shaking his head. Chuck would always be Chuck... and he wouldn't trade him for the world. (Even if upon occasion, Nate thought he should've really strangled the man atop his limo junior year.)
Sitting behind his desk, he opened the folder Karen had left on his desk "to be signed." He picked up a pen, ready to sign the first document...
Then he picked up the phone.
"Well, good morning, Arch. Long time no talk."
Nate grinned at the sound of his sarcastic yet loyal secretary's voice. "Is it still morning? I've been in meetings since eight."
"My condolences, boss. What do you need?"
"Thirty-six hour days."
Snort. "Good luck with that one."
"Good point. All right, send the intern back to Starbucks... I'd love a caramel macchiato. And Kar, come in for a second, would you? I need your help with ideas for... something special that I'd like to do today. For Miss Humphrey, before the holiday party."
Nate could hear the grin in his executive secretary's voice.
"Right away, sir."
XOXOXOXOXO
Jenny's day had begun with the town car dropping her off in Brooklyn so that she could pick up some of the notions she'd been storing there since her last trip to Italy. There were a million things she needed from her flat in London, and a few from her smaller place in Paris, but for now, she'd have to make do. (Thankfully, her father and Lisa weren't around, so she didn't have to deal with any questions about what they'd read in the papers about her and Nate. She knew she couldn't ignore her phone whenever it flashed "DAD" forever, though.)
The snow that had begun the night before was now slush on the sidewalk, but Jenny didn't care. There was always something about being in her old neighborhood that she found calming... centering, even. After grabbing another latte from her favorite local café, she was heading toward the subway entrance when someone called her name.
"Miss Humphrey?"
She blinked and looked up. It was the town car chauffeur, waving at her from where he was parked just outside the café. Doubling back, she shook her head.
"Hey, I'm fine. I know my way around from here, and you probably have others you need to pick up in the city..."
"Actually, miss, I don't."
Jenny stopped in her tracks. "Do you mean you're my personal driver?"
"Yes, Miss Humphrey. So you see, even if you take the subway, I'd still need to head to Waldorf Designs..."
"I see." Too extravagant, a voice inside her head said, even as another applauded Nate's thoughtfulness. But of course, having his fake girl swiping a MetroCard would look terrible in the eyes of voters, right?
"Miss, are you ready?" The driver had the back door open, and Jenny could smell the new, expensive leather of the seats.
"Um... yeah. What's your name?"
"It's Carlos, miss."
Jenny reached into her pocket for her change from the latte, prepared to hand it to him as a tip...
"Oh no, miss, I couldn't possibly."
"You're doing me a service, Carlos," she said quietly. "I was raised to acknowledge that." Even if I forgot that when I was a stupid teen living on the Upper East Side, Jenny thought but did not say.
"And you have. But I'm salaried, and Mr. Archibald has already provided quite a generous Christmas bonus..." She was shaking her head, but he was beckoning her in. "It's against company policy, Miss, it's just not how we do things."
"I know," Jenny sighed, shaking off the fish-out-of-water feeling she still got once in a while when confronted with the customs of the privileged. "Thanks, Carlos."
Even though Jenny was used to putting on an impassive poker face, she still felt self-conscious as she pulled up to Waldorf. Two of the young interns who'd been working with her whenever she was in New York were standing on the sidewalk, chattering away when she stepped out of the town car. When she walked right up to them, they seemed petrified.
"Something the matter, Chloe, Becca?" Jenny cooed in her best Queen J voice.
Becca reddened. Chloe blanched and stammered, "I, we, um..."
"Everything's great, Jenny," gulped Becca, recovering her powers of speech first.
"Great. Because there's a project I need both of you to help me with."
She walked into the building, feeling momentarily as if she were Constance royalty again with her court of minions trailing behind. Jenny felt the eyes on her, heard the barely there whispers, but she didn't turn her head. Instead her long legs strut her stuff, knowing that all eyes were on her.
"So, Jennifer..."
Petronella, the stuffy, pinched faced marketing director, had just said something to a group of her employees, then turned to address the Waldorf designer. She'd also attended Central St. Martin's, and was as English and aristocratic as Earl Grey tea. Jenny liked her as little as she cared for Jenny.
"What's it like dating Nate Archibald?"
"That's for me to know and you never to find out, Petronella."
The women she was standing with giggled. Petronella wasn't going to give up that easily, though.
"Certainly I'm not attracted to him," she sniffed. "I don't like the pretty boys. Besides, I'm almost positive he plays for both teams."
"Even if that were true, which it's not, what's so bad about that? He's faithful to me and he's fantastic in bed." Okay, Jenny, you need to end this before you slip up. "Are you saying that you're... prejudiced... against people who aren't straight, Petronella?"
And Jenny stared her down.
"No, no... that's not what I'm saying at all..." she stammered. For Jenny had raised her voice just loudly enough so that others stopped their conversations and looked over. Petronella trembled; homophobia was the kiss of death in the fashion industry.
"That's what I thought. Thank you very much for congratulating me on my new relationship, Petronella. That's very sweet of you. He's a wonderful man and we're very much in love."
Well. As Jenny walked away briskly, she sashayed a little. In spite of herself, her inner fifteen year old was triumphant. Yeah, I'm shacking up with the most eligible bachelor in all of New York, bitches. And that's all you need to know. Read Page Six and weep...
Dating Nate would be like the adult version of selling her relationship with Asher, right? Piece of cake. She was twenty-five, not fourteen... a professional, not an ingenue.
The only problem was that Nate was straight. Devastatingly handsome. Powerful. Sexy.
And Jenny had to pretend to be his girlfriend for two more months.
"Jenny?"
It was Clemence, Blair's executive assistant. She was racing down the hall in her six-inch Ferragamo heels, waving her hands as if Jenny and the interns couldn't see her.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Mrs. Bass would like to see you."
"Thanks, Clem." She turned to the interns. "Girls, meet me in my studio. I'll be there as soon as possible... here, take this." She took the bag of notions and findings she'd grabbed from her dad's loft and handed them to Becca (who was still red). "We'll be working on the dress that's on the form nearest my drawing table, and it needs to be finished by this afternoon. You can glance over my boards and drawings but don't touch anything until I get there. Understand?"
"Yes, Jenny," the young women chorused. They then scurried down the hall as Jenny pushed open the door to Blair's office.
"Hi Blair..."
"Don't 'hi' me, Jenny Humphrey. What the hell is going on in Paris? Raoul called me and said that not only are we over a week off track for Fashion Week, the London store is seriously understocked because Taiwan is..."
Jenny folded her arms and just stared at her.
"What?"
"'It's handled,'" mocked Jenny, in her best imitation of Blair's voice.
Blair blinked. Then she sat down into the chair behind her desk.
"Oh, no."
"Yeah, that's how I felt when I barely caught my plane to get here in time for Serena's wedding. The weather situation in Taiwan caused a snag that I was planning to fix over in Paris over the holidays, but you and Chuck had other plans."
"And to think that I thought Hong Kong was the hold-up. Shit," swore Blair, not even trying to be her usual ladylike self. "Someone has to go over there before the New Year to take care of things..."
"Of course I'll go."
"Of course you won't," Blair returned. "What, are you seriously trying to deprive me of the pleasure of putting my best male friend in the universe into City Hall? Nate is going to hate living in Albany, so he only needs to do one term, which means he needs two terms as mayor, which means he needs to run now!"
"Blair, this is silly. It's really no problem for me to shoot over there. I'll be back in time for the New Year's Eve parties..."
"I'll go."
Jenny blinked.
"I'll go," repeated Blair. Jenny could tell the wheels in her quick mind were turning. "It's Wednesday the nineteenth. Tomorrow and Friday, Raoul needs to run a long shift at the Paris atelier. Then there's the weekend, Christmas Eve, and I'll fly out on Christmas Day... and from the twenty-sixth through New Year's Eve, I raise hell. They'll fix things or heads will roll."
"Blair, you have Henry. And Chuck..."
"They're coming with me, of course," she said matter-of-factly, picking up her smartphone. "My husband is working entirely too hard, and I wanted to go see my parents and stepdads anyway. It'll be a working vacation. I'll take Dorota with me..."
"And not me?"
Blair looked up from her phone. "Why would I take you?"
"Because it's my line, Blair!"
"Well, B for Waldorf was my line. When I was pregnant with Henry and needed to be on bed rest, you were there for me. Consider this as me... returning the favor."
"Blair, I'm not pregnant! I'm perfectly capable of doing my job. Even this charade won't require me to..."
But Blair's phone chimed, and she looked down at it.
"Aw, isn't that sweet? Look at what my husband just texted me! Uncle Nate and his new girlfriend are gonna take my darling Henry shopping on Saturday! How fun!"
Sometimes, Jenny reflected, she really wanted to shake Blair.
"You and Chuck are scary," Jenny said, whirling around on her heel and walking away. "Never seen anything like your mind meld in my life."
"Of course, we share everything with each other, we're a team. Someday, when and if you find your soulmate, you'll understand."
Jenny couldn't help it. She rolled her eyes.
"Don't fret, J! You're doing well! Don't worry, I'll handle Paris... you just handle Nate to my satisfaction and we'll call it even."
Jenny let out a deep breath. Handle Nate to her satisfaction? Blair had some nerve!
"Yeah, whatever."
"Oh, one more thing..."
Jenny looked over her shoulder.
"I sent you my ideas for what you'll wear to the Spectator party tonight! You've always looked stunning in black, I think that our Fall 2016 LBD would just..."
"I've already got my dress."
"You have? So soon?" Frown. "Let me see it."
"Blair..." Jenny was going to tell her no, but what could she do? "The girls are going to help me finish it this afternoon. Come to my studio and see."
"Maybe later... but I do think that little black dress would look just divine... by the way, Mimi and Charlotte are coming to do my hair and makeup at four-thirty, and I told them that you..."
"No, Blair. Mimi blew me out yesterday, and my hair is just fine today. I'm going to do my own makeup, and I'm going to meet Nate there."
From the look on the brunette's face, Jenny swore that she was in for a famous Queen B tongue-lashing. But then something seemed to change, and Blair relented.
"Fine."
"Fine?"
Shrug. "Yes, it's fine. Jenny, I trust you. If I didn't, there's no way I would've handled the media situation this way."
"Thanks, I guess."
Jenny started toward the door again. But what Blair said next stopped her in her tracks.
"After all, it's not as if you're really going to be the First Lady of this city, right? When Nate's running for governor a decade from now, or for President in another decade and a half, it isn't as if they're ever going to show these pictures with you on his arm. Not for a passing fancy of a few months early in his first campaign."
Ouch.
"So fine, style yourself to your heart's content. Take risks! Get people talking. I approve. As Cyrus would say, ultimately, no publicity is bad publicity... at least, not in fashion, it isn't. Au revoir!"
Needless to say, Jenny wasn't in the best of moods when she stalked to her studio. No longer feeling like the invincible headliner, the Queen of Constance, or the badass, flawfree bitch on Mr. New York's arm, she pushed open the door...
...and was greeted by six gigantic bouquets of red roses, set in vases, sitting on every horizontal surface imaginable.
"Oh, my God."
Chloe and Becca, who had been chattering near the dress Jenny planned to work on, looked up. Despite their supervisor's "ice queen" reputation, both girls tittered nervously.
"Who- " But Jenny didn't even need to ask.
"There's more," said Chloe timidly, reaching toward one of the shelves not being used as a bower and extracting a package about the size of a hatbox. "This was delivered, too."
"Thanks, Chlo," Jenny replied. "You... you girls grab a salad or something. We'll get started in a bit."
Becca and Chloe scurried off. Jenny opened the box first and found a pair of warm boots, not too much unlike the Uggs that had been popular when she was in middle school. They weren't the most stylish, but she loved the cream color and the soft lining. She'd wear them in Hudson, when she went to visit her mother next.
She then opened the envelope. The card inside bore the distinctive NY Spectator logo, and inside was a brief note with Nate's handwriting.
Jenny –
I'm downstairs. Come take a walk through the Park with me.
Nate
How long she stared at that card, Jenny never afterward knew. The next thing she knew, her assistants were nowhere to be seen, and she was looking up into Nate's crystal clear aquamarine eyes.
"Hi," he said with a smile.
Jenny felt fourteen all over again.
"Hi. The... the flowers. That was nice of you, Nate."
"Didn't know if you liked roses or another kind. Figured I needed to do all the things I'd really do if I were your man... anyway, we had a meeting this morning that I wanted to tell you about. I thought we'd get out of here, walk through the Park... I love it best in the winter, when there's snow."
"Nate, I don't know, there's so much I have to do here..."
"Let me help. Whatever you need."
"I need..." What I need is for you not to utter phrases like 'if I were your man' because I'm not sure my heart can take it. "I need to be back by two so I can finish my dress."
"Is that it?"
Great. He was staring at the dress that she'd intended as a surprise, circling the form, fingering a few of the blue stones. Jenny, usually extremely confident in her abilities, felt very self-conscious as she nodded.
"What do you think?" she asked, fighting the impulse to fidget.
"I think... no one's going to be able to take their eyes off you tonight. Least of all me. So what else has to be done to it?"
"Tailoring," Jenny said quickly. "Everything looks better tailored."
"Well, you'd look good in it just as it is. These crystals match your beautiful eyes perfectly..."
Beautiful eyes? No... fake, fake, all fake.
"You don't have to sweet talk me into it, Nate. You have me for the next two months. I'm going to walk with you, and I'm going to the Spectator party."
"Maybe I like sweet talking you into things. Here, sit down..."
Before she could ask why, she found herself sitting down on her work stool. Then she watched as the most eligible bachelor in all of New York City kneeled down on one knee, removed one of her stilettos, and then the other. Reaching for the shoebox, he extracted a pair of warm trouser socks, and slid them on her bare feet, one by one. Finally, on went the boots, first the left, then the right.
Jenny thought perhaps she was coming down with something. Because at the first touch of his hands on her feet, she felt feverish. And it wasn't the kind of shameful feverish that would make her berate herself for not touching up her pedicure before leaving Paris, or lament the size and shape of her feet (too long, too large, not dainty enough). Instead, it was the kind of feverish that was making her photocopy the sensation of his fingertips on her instep, committing it to memory...
"There," he said, standing up and holding out a hand. "Let's go."
He didn't even need to help her back into her coat, for Jenny hadn't yet taken it off. Taking his arm, she floated her way out of the office.
As they walked down the hall toward the elevator, Jenny swore that several of the women of Waldorf Designs actually turned green.
And Petronella Clarke choked on her Perrier.
XOXOXOXOXO
Like his friends Chuck, Blair, and Serena, Nate Archibald loved Central Park and considered it his personal playground. It was part of his regular daily running route, and had been since he was a little kid, struggling to keep up with his father. He'd gone to the duck pond with Blair, to Bethesda Fountain with Serena, and smoked one with Chuck more times than he'd cared to admit. His childhood was filled with memories of elaborate lunches and dinners at the Tavern on the Green, long since converted into a gift shop and information center for the masses.
But there was one time of year that Nate loved to walk in Central Park best. That was in the wintertime. There was nothing quite like making new tracks in the snow, sledding down a hill, going ice skating at the rink, or building a snowman.
He also loved walking through the wintry park with a girl. It was a walk he'd taken with Blair, first as kids, then when they rekindled their relationship briefly at the end of senior year. It was a walk he'd taken with Serena during the months they'd spent together when he was a freshman at Columbia. He'd even won Raina Thorpe over during one of these wintertime walks.
But today... today was different. Nate usually felt very confident around women, even Serena, whom he'd had a serious crush on for years, but whom he'd known practically forever. It was strange. He didn't remember feeling unnerved around Jenny before this, not even a couple of nights before, when they'd gone out with Eric.
So why did it feel as if his heart was leaping around his chest now? As if even the snow-covered ground beneath his feet was surreal? Jenny was wearing the same fuzzy white hat and tailored trench that he'd seen this morning when they waved good-bye to each other as he headed into the Spectator. What had changed?
"How did your meeting go this morning?" she was saying. Nate realized how much he loved Jenny's voice. It was sweet, and light, and most of all, sincere.
"It was spectacular. Looks like I've got an exploratory committee now... all except for one more person I'd like to ask. We have Walter MacMahon, Seth Forbes, Greg Samuelson, Bill Knapp, Thurston Collins, and several others whose names you might recognize, including Chuck and one of the former mayors. It's a good committee, Jen..."
"So this is it. You're officially in the race."
"Well, nothing's official till the convention, but I think so. If nothing else, it'd be great experience. I learned a lot when I was working on Tripp's campaign, but I never wanted to do anything like that myself. But I've got a lot of ideas for the city, Jenny. I think I could be a good mayor."
"I think you'll be a fantastic mayor."
She squeezed his hand, which made Nate realize that she was holding it. Rubbing his thumb in circles on her palm, he decided to plunge right into the real reason for their walk.
"Jen... I need to ask another favor of you."
"Anything."
Was she serious? "Anything?"
"If it's in my power to do it, Nate, I will."
"I'd like you to be the final member of my exploratory committee."
She didn't say anything. Good going, Archibald, he thought. Bet she really thinks you're using her now...
"Why do you want me?" he heard her say, after a while and quite a few more steps through the snow.
Nate's throat suddenly went dry. The thought flew into his head, unbidden. What man in his right mind wouldn't want you? Visions of white, lacy lingerie danced in his head...
"Why do you want me to be part of the committee?" she repeated.
Oh. "Because I value your opinion."
"I'm a designer, Nate. I don't know anything about politics or elections, and I haven't lived in New York on a regular basis for several years. What would I have to contribute when you've got the likes of Seth Forbes, Greg Samuelson, and Chuck Bass?"
Nate couldn't help but crack a smile.
"Because you're a social mastermind second only to the Basses... I seem to remember a fifteen-year-old girl who actually was going to have her own fashion house before she was of legal driving age, let's not forget." And I kissed you that night, too. You were too young back then, but I couldn't help it...
"And we see how well that little venture worked out. I've gone from being Blair's minion ten years ago, to being her employee ten years later. An employee hired to fake-date her childhood friend, no less."
Ouch.
"That's just it," Nate pointed out. "Everyone thinks you're my new girlfriend, and until we're no longer a couple in the minds of the public, you're going to be looked at as a potential mayor's wife. No one will question you being on the committee. You can be another pair of eyes and ears around the table for me. I'll be there, and Chuck will be there, but while we're talking dollars and cents and strategy, you can be there observing people. I... haven't always been the best judge of character in my life; I like to see the best in people. But you're good at sizing people up."
"Well, I've gotten a bit better since Asher, Agnes, and Damien," she laughed. "My youthful lapses in judgment are legion, and thanks to my brother, extremely well-documented." She cocked her head, looking up at him through spectacularly starry periwinkle eyes. "You sure I won't be a liability?"
"I'm sure. You'd be one of my greatest assets..."
Nate trailed off. They were right next to one of his old sledding hills. His original plan had been to walk all the way to the Swedish Cottage Marionette Theatre, which was one of his favorite places in the Park, but a quick and gentle shove landed Jenny in the snowbank just off the walk.
"NATE!"
She sat up, sputtering and annoyed... and looking so indignant and cute that he had to laugh. And laugh, and laugh... he felt as if he'd shed ten years until...
"Ouch!"
He wiped the snow from his eyes. Now it was her turn to giggle, for her snowball had found its target! She stood up and started to run, but hadn't accounted for the slight decline that turned her momentum into a full slide. She went tumbling in the snow and he slid after her.
Passers-by looked at them curiously as their snowball fight commenced. A few sniffed judgment. A group of young kids on a playdate with their nannies wanted to join them, but were refused. And a couple of those more observant recognized them, and snapped a couple of pictures when Jenny finally collapsed into the snowbank, Nate right next to her.
"I am going to hate you in about fifteen minutes, Nate Archibald," she sighed, sitting up. "I told Blair to forget booking any hair or makeup for me, and you want to parade me around at your company's party!"
He sat up too, pushing strands of blonde hair out of her fabulous eyes. "You don't need Blair to do your hair or makeup ever again. I like you best when you look like you."
Her first response was a blink of confusion.
"Yesterday, at lunch. That really wasn't you, was it?"
"Not really. I mean... maybe around the house, but out and about? No. I like to play with my hair and makeup and clothes. Some artists use clay, others a canvas, and still others, found material. My media are clothing and makeup and accessories..."
"Then be you."
"Not if I have to be your media girlfriend, I can't."
He kissed her then. It was perhaps the longest one they'd exchanged yet.
"As your friend," he rasped as he drew away, "I like you exactly the way you are. And New York will like you as much as I do."
"Will they?" she whispered.
"Of course they will. This is the greatest city in the entire world. Everyone is welcome. Everyone should be as brilliant, creative, and beautiful as you are."
Standing up and brushing the snow off his coat, Nate helped Jenny up, and did the same for her. As they walked back toward the Upper East Side, they didn't say much. But eventually, Jenny said:
"Nate, about the driver..."
"What, was he late getting you to Waldorf?"
"No. It's not that." Sigh. "You say New York's the greatest city in the world, but you have a car and driver that takes you wherever you want to go. I... that's not my New York and never was, except maybe back when my Dad was married to Eric and Serena's mom. I want to be able to take the subway, to walk the Brooklyn Bridge, and to live as normal of a life as possible."
"I get it," said Nate. He thought about the many conversations he'd had with Vanessa about the same thing. Not for the first time, he felt a twinge of guilt over the extraordinary wealth and privilege he'd been born into, and the vast amount he'd earned since buying the Spectator.
"Good. We can do this, but please, I don't want you spending money on me."
"I'd spend money on my girl..."
"Not on me. That's not how I do relationships, at all. Fake, real, whatever... I earn my own money and I pay my own way. That's how it has to be."
Nate marveled at how passionate Jenny could get, so quickly. She'd be cool, observant, and then explode all of a sudden. Then she'd shake with insecurity, and five minutes later, her eyes and lips would subtly promise him the world...
"No. Jen, while we're doing this, you need some kind of security. I don't want you targeted."
"Targeted? By whom?"
Nate ignored the question, putting what he didn't want to think about from his mind. No need to scare her about something that was over, and that he'd rather put behind him.
"Just... for now, I'm asking you to go with it. Carlos is a cool guy. He used to drive for my grandfather. It's really no problem for him to take you around. And guess what, when this thing is over, you may miss having a driver the next time the train breaks down or there's a delay."
"That's... true," she slowly conceded. "Okay, fine. The driver stays. For now. But Nate, I draw the line there. I can come with you to events, we can hang out, but no more spending money on me. I mean it, Nate... no more."
"Got it. No more surprising you with roses, then?"
When he looked down, he saw that Jenny Humphrey was actually blushing.
"Well... maybe the flowers can stay, too," she stammered.
"So the flowers are okay, I've convinced you to have your own driver... shall I have a necklace waiting for you tonight, Pretty Woman?"
"Or a fabulous shopping trip on Rodeo Drive?" Jenny joked, catching the movie reference right away. "Where I get to tell the salesgirls 'you work on commission, right? BIG mistake!'"
"You've got it, Cinder-fucking-ella!"
Jenny shook her head. "Your taste in movies is a little worrisome, Nate! The Sound of Music... Pretty Woman... is there something you're not telling me?"
"Look, two of my three best friends are girls. My dad worked a lot and I'm my mother's only child. And hey, I watch plenty of guy movies, too!"
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
Nate couldn't wipe the grin from his face as he teased her. "Notting Hill."
"Nate, that is not a guy movie!"
"Yes, it is! Hugh Grant's the main dude in it!"
"It's a romantic comedy... oh, boy, between your affinity for romcoms and all the Audrey I know Blair made you watch as a kid, I'll bet my movie taste is more masculine than yours!"
"No, no! I like sports movies, too. Jerry Maguire, Remember the Titans, Rocky... Like Mike..."
Groan. "You like sports anything. So tell me, am I going to be a football widow on New Year's Day and Super Bowl Sunday?"
"New Year's, no, because the committee's having a reception. But on Super Bowl Sunday? Hell yeah!"
Much to his surprise, this time, Jenny grabbed his hand and swung it as they walked along.
"Nate, you are priceless. Don't ever change."
XOXOXOXOXO
Instead of meeting each other at the Spectator party, Nate and Jenny agreed to meet at home. Jenny arrived at the Glass Box first, having driven her interns to finish her dress in record time. Then she begged Mimi to do something with her hair, not putting it up (Jenny hated that), just a wash and blowout into wildly beautiful, free-flowing waves. (She needed a color touch-up and would do it on the weekend. And she missed her extensions... her bra strap length golden-bleached-platinum blonde hair just wasn't dramatic enough for her tastes.)
Nate came in when she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. As much as she appreciated Charlotte's work, Jenny wanted to recognize the woman she saw in the mirror. She wasn't doing a smoky, Goth eye anymore anyway, since that style had been out for a few years now, but she did like more eye shadow than Blair had ordered for the media date. When she was finished, her eyes were luminous and her lips glowed a little to match.
"Hey, Jen, you here yet?"
"In the guest suite," she called. She smiled as he walked in, struggling with his cufflinks. "What do you do when no one's here?"
"If it's during the day, Karen... evenings and weekends, Johnny... and sometimes Carlos or even Blair if I'm riding with her and Chuck."
Jenny shook her head. "Well, it's a good thing I'm here, isn't it?" she tsked, setting to the task at hand. Why does he always smell so great? Is it his aftershave, did he splash on cologne? "These are nice."
"Thanks. They were a gift."
"From a woman?"
He cracked a half smile. "From Chuck."
"Aw, how sweet! You guys really have the greatest bromance."
"Do me a favor, Jenny... never, ever use the word 'bromance,' ever again."
"Got it." She stood up. "So how do I look?"
"Like you belong."
She closed her eyes, relieved. As confident as she was with who she was, as much as she knew that she knew both couture and high society, it was still wonderful to be validated...
"Like you belong... to me."
Jenny was starting to expect the unexpected. And one of the great unexpected gifts of this fake relationship was kissing Nate Archibald... yes, in the public eye, but apparently, out of it as well.
His lips wandered to her ear.
Her hands found their way into his hair.
Soon, Jenny felt the backs of her knees against the guest room bed...
And then the phone rang. It wasn't a video call, but it threatened the moment nonetheless.
"Ignore it," she breathed hotly against his mouth, caught up in the moment, wanting this, wanting him.
Nate did. Jenny almost cooed through their next kiss when she felt his fingers catch the top of the zipper of her dress. Her hands traced abstract patterns on his back as her rational thoughts went staccato: Heat. Warm skin. Muscle. Delicious. I want. Wants me. Let's do this.
The phone rang again.
One of Nate's hands was sliding down her zipper.
The other was cupping her breast.
Then the phone rang a third time.
He groaned. She shuddered a sound of regret.
"Can't skip my own company's party, I guess," he said, pecking her lips. "That's probably Johnny waiting downstairs."
Her hand cupped his face. "Well, let's just press 'pause' for a few hours and see where this movie goes later tonight... although I think I already know the ending..."
In response, Nate chuckled knowingly. Kissing her one last time, he picked up the phone.
"Yes? No, I'm not expecting a visitor... oh."
Frowning, Nate placed his hand over the phone.
"Someone for you?" Jenny asked, holding her unzipped dress up to her chest awkwardly.
He shook his head. "Actually, it's someone asking for you. Someone named Marco Rossi."
~to be continued~
A/N – So Jenny's past has come back to haunt her... or at least, booked a transatlantic flight in order to find out what kind of woman waits ten months before giving her answer to a proposal. (Oh, Little J!) Next time, we'll meet Marco and find out what he has to say to Jenny (and see how Nate responds, haha). Then we'll go holiday shopping with Henry and Eric, and Derena returns to have their say.
I've (finally) plotted out the entire fic, so I know where I'm going, and the steps it will take to get there; Clair de Lune will probably be somewhere between 15-20 chapters. I tend to be long winded (Exhibit A: Pomp and Circumstance) so I'm holding myself to no more than 20 pages in my Word doc per chapter. We'll see how things go.
I continue to be overwhelmed by reader response to this story, and it spurs me to try to give you quality updates. Was a little unsure of this chapter so had to let it sit for a bit – and was thrilled when not a day went by without a review, follow, favorite, or Tweet. I've got a Tumblr now – drholland - I'll occasionally post previews and other goodies over there, and you can see Jenny's dress for the Spectator party there as well: post/39009037344/spotted-not-so-little-j-attends-a-holiday-party
Thanks to the reviewers of Chapter 3: layana, ChrysX, lydiamae, nennyfanxoxo, Chels, maryl, Dede (x3 – hi bb!), LeaCharmedOne, Riana Salvatore, rcarizona, Jenate, loveydovey, Sel, Leann, The Singing and Reading Girl, carlybb, Sophiexoxoxo, maddie, Heavenzangel, Lissa, Talz89, allyouneedislove, nianxjenate, fan, protectingfate, jrg33, Donna L. Crawford, bookworm455, crazygrl123, romanticangel92, and SusanXG. If you ever wish to chat more, definitely Tweet me!
XOXO, Dr. Holland