a game of chess
gossip girl/mad men- don draper/blair waldorf, rated r, 908 words
He never could say no to a pretty face.
notes: for snapdragonrose- “highly expensive heroin, lady!”
He hasn’t had a good morning.
Some damn bird shat on his coat jacket when he pulled the car out of the drive away and when he ran back inside to get it cleaned up, Betty ran out with narrowed eyes and a suspiciously lumpy night gown.
He didn’t have time for a proper change so he felt like a fool, tripping into the office with his foot all limping from when he bumped into the door on his way back out of the house, a jacket not matching his coat.
“Peggy,” he barks, rolling into the office like thunder.
She isn’t his secretary but she probably still owes him for something so can she please get in here and tell him what the hell he’s supposed to be doing today.
“The Waldorf campaign”- she’s still quick on her feet and she fills him in on the details. Eleanor Waldorf's fashion house is fairly popular and he’s heard of the family before. Old New York money but a touch of scandal all the same- he can’t remember right now but he thinks he put Campbell on the case.
Ten minutes later, he’s sitting back in his chair waiting for the lady of the hour to make her way through that door. The business has been around for fifteen years or so, which would put her in the fifty something age bracket, so he chokes a little on his drink when the door opens.
The woman walking through is tiny, svelte and a hell of a lot closer to twenty than she is to fifty. Purses her lips and stops at the entrance, pausing like a silent movie star waiting for a cue.
He finds himself taking to his feet, cursing that damn bird and his damn for the jacket not matching because the stunning little creature before him, hasn’t a hair out of place.
Don isn’t used to feeling undressed with a client before him so he improvises fast. Flashes those pearly whites and “I’m Don Draper”- hand stretched out between them.
She doesn’t bat an eyelid. “Blair Waldorf.”
She says it like she’s seen it all before and he grins a bit wider because she hasn’t of course, but she puts on a damn good show.
They take it to the table and he cringes because the last time he worked with a fashion house thing didn’t go well, but Ms. Waldorf isn’t looking for any answers. She’s done her homework, done the math and all the wants is for him to make it happen.
Make it happen, Don.
He never could say no to a pretty face.
He takes her out for a drink.
Company tab of course but it has less to do with the deal and more to do with the fact that he likes the way she says “Mr. Draper” a touch of sarcasm gracing her lovely pout. She looks like she can see right through him which is always fun because he really doesn’t believe her.
“So-” He leans forward, trying to unnerve her but she’s as cool as cucumber, just like Betty but there is a certain amount of sass in the swing of her hips that’s reminiscent of someone else entirely.
“So, how come you’re not married, Ms. Waldorf?” he asks casually, eyes averted from her rising hemline.
“You mean, not married yet?” She flashes a hand before him, a blinding rock attached to her ring finger. He lets out a low whistle.
“Who’s the lucky guy?”
Her smile is a touch too brittle. “Nate Archibald.”
He decides he likes her lips best when she’s trying to be coy.
“Is it love?” he asks, utterly without thinking, and decides it’s her drink that’s distracting him. No woman should be allowed to drink such copious amounts of liquor and still say sober. It’s indecent and he raises both eyebrows as she calls for another Scotch.
She takes a long sip before looking him right in the eye and saying yes, yes she is marrying for love.
He wishes he believed her lies because she’s selling a prettier dream than he ever has before and she’s sure as hell selling harder.
Smile stretches out too thin for those full lips and she brushes back her hair.
“What about you?”
She’s being more brazen than he thinks she would be other wise so he goes easy on her and says he’s happily married, thank you. Two kids and one on the way and from the look on her face she isn’t buying his dream either.
He isn’t going to discuss this with a child.
It’s a quick fuck.
Against the bathroom sink, few clothes shed and she flushes prettily when she comes, dainty heels pressing into his back like a vicious bite.
He grins and hands her the blouse that came off first, floating to the floor when he pushed into her.
“Good night, Mr. Draper.”
A soft smile, peck on his cheek and she’s gone.
Out of the bathroom and out of his life, no signs left but the taint of her lipstick on his cheek (too dark- she marks her man well, this one.)
He’s not going to kiss her on rooftops.
He has a feeling she already has someone for that.