DISCLAIMER: Smallville belongs to Al Gough/Miles Millar, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel were created by Joss Whedon. If I owned any of these shows, I'd by me a jetplane... no a jetski... no a Harley... no a House... well anyway... I don't own any of those things, so I can't own the shows. Sad, huh?
Cordelia smiled as she danced around the multitude of people inside Queen Plaza. Her agent had called her earlier, saying that he was going to be in attendance, stating that it would be good for her image to be seen helping in the fundraiser.
As soon as was possible, Cordelia had called Angel and told him that her big break was coming up, and that she'd need the night off. She assured him that she'd be at work the next day... unless he got an audition. While not particularly happy about the news, Angel, in his usual brogue voice told her to, "have fun and stay safe", an utter impossibility now that she'd been jinxed.
"Mr. Harrison," Cordelia said, her thoughts shaken from her head as the tall-headed, gray haired man in front of her turned around. Richard Harrison may not have been one of the best agents in L.A., but he was one of the few with connections to high-risers like Oliver Queen. She had applied at, and been accepted to, his agency when she surprised them by acting out a scene from an award-winning Soap Opera, despite being totally against the sexist assumption that she, in any way, associated with them.
Plus the fact that this particular scene was created before she was born, so there was no chance of her having seen it before.
"Cordelia, I'm glad you could make it. I was about to call in Sophia, had you been another five minutes late."
She sighed, Sophia Reynolds was one of her biggest rivals when it came to parts like these, playing the socialite, a good acting experience, as well as a way to make proper connections for herself and the company. Usually, she'd be on the arm of Mr. Harrison, or one of his son's, while helping entertain large masses.
As soon as it was over, so was the job. Nothing expected other than allowing her boss to make more connections, without vilifying herself.
Richard took her arm and said, "You're very lucky tonight, Cordelia. Our guest speaker convinced her son to come last minute, and because of this, the poor slob didn't have a date tonight.
Cordelia winced. Crap she thought, here I was hoping he'd be good-looking at least.
Richard took her by the arm, weaving in and out of the group of important, socially elite, contributors. "Ollie," the man said. She looked, gasping at the known playboy, Oliver Queen. He was worth more than all of Sunnydale. "Richard," the man said, "lovely to see you."
The man smiled. "And you. Oliver Queen, this is Cordelia Chase. She's one of my newest clients. Has the Senator arrived yet?"
Oliver sighed. "She hasn't. She called earlier, apparently there was a situation at the airport, a tall, black haired fellow was running after what seemed to be a demon. They locked down the airport, and she and Clark just escaped. Oh, Richard. Have you met my date, yet? Lois Lane?"
Cordelia eyed the woman before her, who seemed to have a natural beauty about her, and wasn't at all uncomfortable in, or around, herself. She hadn't even indicated a wish to be introduced, and yet seemed assured that Oliver would, in fact, do that. "Her father, Sam, arrived just before you did."
"Sam?" Cordelia asked. Lois sighed, rolled her eyes, and nudged the billionaire in the ribs, who winced and said, "right... sorry."
Suddenly, the door opened, and a woman in a red, sparkling satin dress, a taller man with a graying beard, and a tall, black haired teen with rippling muscles visible under his suit, stepped inside the door. Cordelia gasped, her breath coming in short, violent gasps, as his sharp blue eyes eyed the room, and he turned to the woman, before smiling at the woman in front of her.
The woman sighed, "he really can pick a needle in a haystack."
Cordelia glanced, a sudden feeling of dread coming over her as she looked toward the door, sure that any second, the Senator was going to enter, and her short, geeky son with glasses, was going to trip.
"Ah," she said as she felt her arm jerked. She looked at Richard, who's gaze was steely eyeing the group in front of him. Oliver smirked, before he said, "it's fine, Richard. I've known Clark for a few months now, and Lois for a few years, he's more than trustworthy. Of course, if Cordelia's reaction to just seeing him is as rewarding as this, I'll have to ask Martha to think about moving to California."
The man gazed at the billionaire, wondering when the geeky one had entered, her entire body screaming to go to the hunk of salty goodness that was standing not even fifty feet from her. She whimpered as the grip on her arm tightened and Richard said, "Cordelia, something about this doesn't feel right. I want you to take this, just in case."
She slipped the can of mace in her purse, sure that she'd probably need to keep the little geek's hands off her somehow. Lois, for her benefit, merely smirked and said, "HEY! SMALLVILLE!"
Suddenly, to Cordelia at least, it was almost as if watching a waterfall in slow motion. The hunk of salty goodness turned, a wide grin on his face, as he nudged the woman to his right and said something that looked oddly like, "I'll be right back."
The woman eyed the group and nodded, before she said something that looked like, "fine, but hurry up."
The boy then stepped away from the group, unconsciously shifting socialites out of the way with his penetrating gaze. "Oliver, good to see you." the man said, eyeing the man happily. Oliver smiled, his eyes seeming to convey some sort of message, as he turned to Lois. The girl, forgoing all forms of polite decorum, punched the man in the arm.
She eyed Richard, who's grip had ended, and she said, "so, when is my... date getting here?"
Lois smirked, before saying, "yeah, Smallville. When's her date getting here?"
Cordelia turned her head, expecting an answer, before her eyes widened and she said, "Are you for real?"
Oliver smiled, "Cordelia Chase, I'd like you to meet Clark Kent, the only son of Senator Martha Kent. Clark, this is Cordelia."
Clark eyed Cordelia speculativley, his eyes not even wandering below her eyes, before he held his hand and said, "Miss Chase."
Cordelia closed her eyes, suppressing her urge to squeal, as she said, "Mr. Kent, it's Cordelia."
"Call me Clark," the man said, "though I wish I'd known you were planning this, Oliver. Or was this you're idea?" he turned to the girl on Oliver Queen's arm. The girl simply smirked and said, "you know me, Smallville."
After the group split, Cordelia led Clark around the room, introducing him to the rest of the socialites in the room, though she was surprised that he already knew both Lex and his new wife, Lana. She saw the longing gaze directed toward the brunette and gasped, before watching his gaze turned cold toward the bald-headed billionaire.
"Well," she said, "as fun as this is, we've more people to speak with, Mr. Luthor. Mrs. Luthor."
Clark said, "Yeah, bye Lex. Lana."
As they walked away, Cordelia sighed. "Since when are farmers on first-name basis with billionaires?"
Clark's gaze hardened, and she shut up. "Sorry. I'm supposed to be entertaining you, while your mom does her thing."
"It's fine... there's just a lot of bad blood between Lex and me, one of which was his new... wife."
Cordelia nodded.
The night moved quickly, as seconds turned to minutes, and those to hours. Martha's speech was set to start at 11:45, and the woman looked all but a measure of calm. Cordelia sighed, as she eyed an empty seat, surprised when the man at her side said, "those heels can't be good on you, why don't we make our way to the tables. Mom's speech is going to start soon."
Cordelia groaned as the chair squealed when she sat down, her blue dress lifting just a fraction up her legs as she sat in the leather chair. As the bell chimed the fifteen minute mark, the room quieted.
The reaction to the speech given was one of the most responsive that she'd ever heard, it seemed as if every socialite in attendance werer inspired by her words. After the ten minute speech, the sound of scribbling could be heard, and the ripping of paper could be made out, as ushers holding golden trays walked around, thanking the socialites for their contribution.
"so," the woman asked a few minutes after the fundraiser ended, "anymore like you at home?"
Clark smiled, his grin on his face telling her all she needed to know. "Figures."
End