Work Text:
Marty Kaan and the pod sit at a table halfway up a skyscraper Casino in Sin City itself -- Las Vegas. Outside the large windows, the neon lights of Vegas glow, the same glow that so many flock to for the debauchery the city is known for.
Unfortunately, the business group isn't here for fun, but for work. As they always are, frankly. Jeannie Van Der Hooven takes a long sip of her champagne.
Doug and Clyde, the idiots, sit across the table from her and Marty. After yet another moment of the two freaks mentioning something about "pussy" and giggling, Jeannie is rolling her eyes. "Honestly, just shut the fuck up, you two."
Clyde looks at her, his attention caught, "You jealous, Jeannie Beanie?"
Jeannie scoffs, "Of what?"
Clyde leans closer to her over the table, sitting directly vertically across from her. He lowers his voice, so the others won't hear (although Marty is distracted, being forced to listen to Doug's rant about some musical). "You're jealous that.." and he pauses to stare deeply into her eyes, "We weren't talking about your pu-"
Jeannie puts a finger to his lips, and he smiles, imagining where this could go. She grins, "I fucking hate you, Clyde." Tilting her head to the side, "And you really disgust me."
He matches her grin, "What, you're not deeply attracted to all this?" Clyde gestures to himself, and, pervertedly (as he does), mostly at his crotch.
"No, I'm really not, and it's pathetic you need the sexual validation of every woman within 5 feet of your dick. Honestly, where do you get off."
Jeannie grimaces, realizing how he'd interpret that.
Clyde realizes at the same time, and winks at her, "Anywhere really, if I need to, Jeannie Beanie, sometimes even thinking of you."
She stands up, her chair squeaking loudly. Jeannie picks her bag up, and knocking her head back, chugs the last of her champagne and slams the cup back down on the table. Marty and Doug finally look over from their side of the table.
"I'll see you all at work tomorrow," Jeannie stonily states, before walking away.
Behind her, she hears Marty, presumably, ask Clyde, "What the fuck did you say?" Jeannie laughs to herself, knowing he'll come up with some bullshit excuse, as he always does.
In Jeannie's head, she's stomping away angrily, but to passersby, she's elegantly speed-walking in her brand name heels. She considers what she'll do tonight-- maybe just hoard some alcohol in her hotel room, or persuade some hotel worker to spend the night...cleaning her room.
She stands before the elevator. Jeannie clicks the down button, and while waiting for the door to open, glances back at her co-workers. Although Marty and Doug seem to be enjoying themselves, Clyde is looking down, almost..dejected? Strange, she thinks. What's got him like that? Definitely not anything I said. Everyone knows he never really listens. I really just fucking wish he would listen sometimes, though.
Clyde slowly looks up, and their eyes lock. Shit. Jeannie turns back to her opening elevator door, and steps inside, hopefully not appearing too jittery to anyone watching.
The door starts to close, when a hand sticks between the door. The doors open again for this new elevator rider, and lo and behold: Clyde Oberholt.
"I swear to fuck, Clyde."
He steps inside while laughing, "Was there a comma in that sentence, or..?"
"Yes, obviously."
"Really?"
Jeannie scowls while clicking the button for the ground floor, "Clyde, have you just followed me to harass me more?"
"Ha-.." Clyde looks confused. "Harass you? That's harassment?"
"Well, does it look like I'm reciprocating anything you've said?
He seems to consider this question genuinely. "...Yesssss?
Suddenly, the elevator halts its vertical travel, becoming perfectly still. The jolt of it sends Jeannie falling. Her arms reach out, looking for something to grab onto. And perfectly, PERFECTLY, her hands land...on his belt, gripping onto it for dear life. She mumbles, "I hate my life." Jeannie slowly turns her head up to face Clyde, from where she's landed with her head too close to his cock. But, instead of smirking down at her, he seems to almost be..blushing. A moment of weakness?
Pulling away as quick as she can, Jeannie stands straight up, and facing the elevator door (and away from Clyde), she straightens out her clothes, almost subconsciously. By the time she glances back over at Clyde, he's fixed his expression. Now the smirk has finally loaded up onto his face.
"If I was Christian, I'd say this was a gift from the Lord! The elevator isn't working-" To emphasize the point he taps on the elevator wall, "And Jeannie Van Der Hooven was gripping onto my belt for her life."
"I need to get out of here." Jeannie starts to randomly click at the buttons, rapidly.
"Hey, hey, hey. Don't wanna fuck anything else up." Clyde bats her hands away from the panel of floor buttons.
"Don't touch my hands."
Clyde raises his hands, like she just arrested him. "Yes, ma'am."
After about ten minutes, with Clyde being forced to stand on the opposite side of the elevator, facing the wall, the elevator starts to move again. Jeannie lets out a sigh, thankful for whoever got it going.
"Can I turn around now?"
Jeannie nods--then realizes that he wouldn't have been able to see that. "Yes, go right ahead."
He turns around. "So....Jeannie beanie.."
"If you flirt me with again..I swear! You're always on this bullshit. Always fucking around, and what's the point, Clyde?"
"Um..uhh.." He searches for words, before settling on the most pointed ones. "What was the point when you ruined your engagement by fucking around?
Jeannie looks at him, staring deeply into his face, searching for any expression showing what he's thinking. And, as usual, there's nothing underneath the surface other than his constant horniness. She starts to laugh, even holding her stomach she's laughing so hard.
"How-- how was that funny?" Clyde says as he starts to laugh from the contagiousness of it all.
Ding! The elevator doors slide open on the ground floor of the Casino. Jeannie stops laughing, and walks out like she hasn't been stuck in an elevator with the freakiest man in their consultancy firm (she would call him the freakiest consultant generally, but she feels like in reality it would be her or Monica). Walks out like she didn't have both hands on his belt. Walks out like she didn't just see him blush for the first time.
She hears footsteps behind her, and of course it's Clyde running to catch up with her. Jeannie would never admit it out loud, but she always enjoys it when he runs. His 6 foot, lanky frame wasn't built for running, so it always looks incredibly awkward.
"Jeannie, there's this club, do you-
She turns towards him quickly, cutting him off, "Yes, I will. Let's go." This answer completely surprises her, she has no idea where it came from, but she supposes at least she can get drunk tonight.
A few hours later, Jeannie no longer wears her blazer. She must have taken it off somewhere in the club but she doesn't know where and it doesn't really matter right now. Nothing matters right now. The driving beats of the music, and the warmth of the humans dancing ecstatically around her feels like all she needs, all she'll ever need.
Jeannie glances through the crowd at Clyde, who's managed to surround himself with a few girls. My IQ could eat theirs alive. She pauses in her train of thought. Why the FUCK do I care?
Clyde also seems to have misplaced his suit jacket. His tie now hangs from his head, tied around his forehead as naturally as his neck.
Jeannie laughs. He's ridiculous.
A new song starts to play. Right Round by Flo Rida and Kesha. Jeannie would never admit it to her co-workers, but she saw Pitch Perfect (with Wes, because of course he wanted to watch it) when it came out, and some of the songs stuck with her....unfortunately.
As soon as the first chorus ends and Flo Rida starts rapping, she watches as Clyde lip syncs to it, jumping up and down in place. I should record this for Marty.
Jeannie stops watching him and goes back to making her own fun. Dancing. But without being able to resist, she glances back over, and Clyde is watching her.
You spin my head right round, right round
when you go down, when you go down, down,
from the top of the pole I watch her go down
Clyde lipsyncs, maintaining eye contact the whole time. He starts to dance his way through the crowd towards her. She leans towards him, when he's close enough to hear her, "You're so dumb. This song is so dumb."
He grins, "I bet I can make it through more shots then you." He nods over at the bar, with two seats next to each other looking perfectly open. Jeannie grabs him by the collar of his shirt, "Then you're fucking wrong, Clyde Oberholt."
Jeannie and Clyde take the two empty seats. Just like she did with Marty on that night she can't fully remember, she loops her arm around Clyde's as they do the shots. After a few, they start holding the shot glasses for each other. And soon enough, Jeannie's drinking the shot from his mouth, pressing her lips to his. She pulls away first, as Clyde would be content to stay there forever. WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?
"So," Clyde starts, as Jeannie gives him a warning glare to choose his words carefully, "Is this what happened with you and Marty?"
She sighs. I need him to shut up. So logically Jeannie shuts him up the best way she can-- she kisses him a second time.
Jeannie Van Der Hooven's eyes slowly open. She stares straight up at a white ceiling, clearly not the club's ceiling. Oh God. A pounding headache suddenly hits. Jeannie rubs her hands over her face, and mascara comes off on them. I didn't take it off before bed last night? I must have been so gone. Supporting herself with her arms on the bed, she slowly, slowly, so as not to further cause any dizziness, sits up.
As she sits up, the blanket that had been covering her slips down. And..I'm absolutely fucking naked, and this is not my hotel room....Oh....God.
With all the emotional strength she can gather, Jeannie slowly turns her head towards the man sleeping next to her. Clyde. Motherfucking. Oberholt. I hate myself. She tries to remember the night before, but the memories refuse to come back.
Maybe I should leave. Right. Now. Get dressed, and maybe he won't even remember either. Maybe he'll just assume some hooker was here.
She stares at him. Sleeping completely peacefully. His curly hair so messed up, presumably by her, that the gel can no longer contain it at all. He's actually kind of...very beautiful. Jeannie finally really sees him for the first time. His pointed eyebrows, large eyes, his charming nose. He's genuinely good-looking. But no one should ever fucking tell him, he'd never forget it.
Well, I made this bed, let's fucking lay in it.
Jeannie shakes Clyde, "Wake up, wake the fuck up." He slowly, groggily, opens his eyes. Clyde raises a hand to his head, presumably being hit by the same headache she's suffering from.
"Stop shaking me, bitch." His eyes widen as he suddenly realizes who's in bed with him. "Jeannie Van Der Hooven?" The most shit-eating grin she's ever seen in her life spreads across his face.
"Don't even say fucking anything, Clyde."
"Don't say anything? Jeannie Beanie, holy shit." His eyes drift down from her face, and she realizes she never re-picked up the blanket when it dropped. Jeannie grabs it immediately, covering herself.
He shakes his head, "Nothing I haven't seen."
"I hate you. Do you...remember what happened last night?"
"You know Sloppy Seconds by Lay Bankz? Pretty sure it went just like that." A cocky expression takes over as he reminisces.
"Ew. That's like the worst way you could have said anything." Jeannie's eyes suddenly widen. "Clyde!! Where's a clock?!"
Clyde's face also contorts in panic as he reaches for his phone. "Fuck." He practically falls out of the bed, hurrying over to his closet, stumbling over clothes on the ground, to get dressed for work-- which they are now both late to.
It's only when Jeannie and Clyde step out of the elevator into their firm, that they both realize how strange it could appear that she's wearing the exact same outfit as yesterday (minus the blazer that was lost somewhere at the club). "Clyde, I'm going to walk up first. You wait a few minutes, and then join us. For the sake of appearances. No one can fucking know about last night." Despite his protests, she ignores him and joins Marty and Doug at a table strewn with computers, and papers covered in charts.
"Jeannie? Is that the same-" Doug stares at her with his big, curious eyes. Marty lightly hits his hand, signaling him not to bother Jeannie. As someone who's come to work in the same suit two days in a row due to a...busy night, he knows what it's like, and wouldn't want to be bothered either.
"Thank you, Marty." Jeannie nods to him and takes a seat at her desk. She turns her computer on, and opens the slideshow she needs to work on editing today, for an upcoming meeting.
Finally, after waiting a few minutes, Clyde walks up, and drops off his bag at his desk. "Clydeee, my man, you get any game last night?" Doug smiles at him, trying to sound stylish or hip or something. He's really just trying his best.
"Keep it in your pants, Doug." Clyde finishes unpacking his bag, and walks over to Jeannie's desk, semi-leaning on it, semi-sitting on it.
She glances up quickly before looking back at her slideshow, "What do you need, Clyde?"
Clyde leans down, hovering his mouth close to her ear, he whispers, "Closure for last night."
Jeannie glares at him before whispering back, "The fuck do you mean?"
"I just feel like maybe we should be talking about it or something."
"We're at work. Clyde, to be completely honest, I don't like you."
Clyde pulls back, looking disgruntled. Standing up, and speaking loud enough for the others to clearly here, "I don't care for you either." He walks back over to his desk, mumbling "bitch" along the way.
Jeannie sighs. What a manchild.
After an hour of working steadily, she observes as Clyde remains upset. Shit. I hope he didn't have any feelings for me.
Jeannie gives another sigh. Marty looks up from his work, "Your slideshow really that boring?" She gives him a look, and he backs off. Jeannie then stands up and walks over to Clyde's desk. He refuses to look up at her, so she taps on it. "Clyde? Can we speak over there?" She gestures vaguely towards the bathrooms. He looks up slowly, before nodding like an upset toddler.
The pair walks over to the bathrooms in complete silence.
"You know you never really listen to anyone. Because your ego is so fucking huge nothing gets through," Jeannie says with a completely straight face.
"Yeah yeah, rub salt in my wounds, why don't you?"
"Rub salt in your wounds? Why would you even be wounded? You don't care about me or what I have to say. We all know you can't care about anyone, Clyde.
"Like I don't know that. You don't think I wish I could?" Clyde looks down. "Sorry, that's too much for a conversation before lunch. Or ever."
Jeannie takes his chin in hand, making him look at her. "You're fine." She then grabs his tie in one hand, and uses it to pull him into the bathroom they're closest to, and continues to pull him into a stall. As soon as she can get the door closed, they're kissing up against the wall of the stall, her hands in his hair, her legs around his hips. Anyone else who was in the bathroom quickly hurries out.
"So.." starts Doug to Marty, as they had been watching the whole interaction outside of the bathrooms. "They're hooking up, right?"
Marty stares at him. "Shut the fuck up, Doug."