FIC: The five verses
Title: The five verses
Pairings/Characters: John/Claire, John/Rachel, Lola/ Luka, Lola/Walt, Claire/Ray
Rated: M
Word Count: 2,789
Disclaimer: I own Claire and John. Lola owns Lola and Luka. We share ‘le Slag’. Sadly, none of us own Ray or Walt. These characters are from mine and Lola’s Generation Kill rp. I do not own GenKill.
A/N: I wanted to write another Claire/John piece of their relationship from beginning to end. Note to Lola: I kinda forget how they met, so I made it up again xD
The five verses
I.
Claire nervously brushed down the front of her dress and looked across at Lola. ‘Why do you need me to come?’ she asked, tone clipped with annoyance. She hated dressing up; she’d much rather be at home in her pyjamas, reading a book or watching a movie. But, no, Lola had dragged her out so she didn’t have to meet her boyfriend, Luka, alone at some stupid conference.
‘For moral support,’ Lola replied, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear.
‘Why couldn’t I have chosen what to wear?’ she demanded, looking down at the short blue dress that revealed way too much skin for her liking. Lola looked at her with a sigh.
‘Just pretend your wearing that scruffy pair of frog pyjamas you own, okay?’ she pleaded. Claire’s chin jutted slightly.
‘Shame I cant just be wearing them at home,’ she hissed, ducking away as Lola tried to flatten her morning hair that had refused to be neat that evening.
‘Ah, there you are!’ a deep voice broke up their bickering and both women turned with forced smiles to see Luka coming down the steps of the mansion they were stood outside. ‘Bit late.’
‘Got held up,’ Lola replied, smiling as he placed a hand on the small of her back and led her inside. Claire threw up her hands and hurried after the two. She had to admit, the house was beautiful. She managed to get away from Lola, the inner child inside of her wanted to wander around and see what there was.
Every since she was little, whenever her family took her to old houses or castles, she’d prefer to go around alone, pretending she lived there. She’d given orders to servants, get her army ready because a battalion was approaching or pretend she was a princess stuck in the highest tower, the door blocked by a dragon. She’d always manage to fight her way out, because she didn’t need a smelly prince to save her.
Now, she walked along up the grand staircase, the room illuminated by chandeliers. She passed a group of women, all dressed in jewels and smelling of expensive perfume, as she got to the first floor and then she was alone. Everyone else seemed to be heading downstairs to the large dining hall. Instead, Claire admired the large paintings that lined the walls, fingers brushing over the tops of the glossed tables and hoping no alarms went off.
She entered one room; it was a bedroom. A huge bedroom. There was a king size bed against one wall, a huge wardrobe dominating another. Claire moved into the room, wondering who actually lived here. She stepped lightly over the carpet to the vanity table and picked up a perfume bottle. She sprayed it and gave a sniff.
Wrinkling her nose, she put it down and cast another look around before leaving. The next room she entered was a bathroom. A large bathtub was stood along, standing on metal feet that looked like lion paws. The toilet actually sparkled. When she looked in the mirror, she looked totally out of place here.
She left after screwing up some tissue and putting it in the toilet for the sake of it, looking up and down the corridor again. She crossed and pushed opened the door opposite. It was another bedroom, but this time, it wasn’t empty. A man sat on the bed, doing up the cuffs of his shirt. He looked up when he heard the door squeak open, blue eyes meeting her shocked grey ones.
‘Sorry,’ she said, going to back out. But, he laughed and waved a hand.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he replied, standing up and picking his suit up off the bed. He pulled it on, running a hand through his dark hair and looking up at her again. ‘Have you come with someone?’ he asked.
‘My friend, Lola. She was er… invited by her boyfriend, Luka.’ The man smiled at this.
‘Ah, Lola. Yes. I know who she is. I’m Luka’s boss.’ He held out a hand. ‘John Mays.’
‘Claire Ralph,’ she replied, sounding nervous and mouse-like. She shook his hand and he opened the door, following her out. ‘This is your conference, isn’t it?’ she asked, suddenly remembering his name. John nodded.
‘Yes. I’m trying to promote a new deal. If this goes through, I’ll be earning a million more than I should.’ He smiled, almost priding himself in this as the two made their way down the grand staircase. He paused outside the closed double doors, glancing at her. ‘Do I look good?’
‘You look fine,’ she replied and he threw open the doors and walked inside. He was met with cheers and everyone stood up from their tables. Claire followed, squeaking when she was dragged sideways and practically onto Lola’s lap.
‘Where’ve you been?’ she asked, now shoving Claire into the chair next to her.
‘I was looking around,’ she huffed. ‘That’s all.’ She looked up at the front table, where John was now taking his seat. Beside him was Luka. She frowned. ‘Shouldn’t you be up there with him? He is your girlfriend.’
‘He much prefers his assistant, Rachel, to be up there,’ Lola replied, a glum expression on her face. ‘Why were you with John?’ she asked, suddenly suspicious.
‘I walked in on him.’
‘Gross.’
‘Not like that,’ Claire murmured, elbowing Lola in the side as an elderly man stood up and began to talk. ‘He seems nice anyway.’ Lola wrinkled her nose.
‘Can be. He’s more interested in money,’ she said. ‘Why?’ Claire shrugged, watching John as he stood up to introduce him and his team and thank them all for being here. Lola gave a snort and concealed it with a cough. ‘I wouldn’t even go there, Claire,’ she warned in an undertone, ignoring the woman who shushed her beside them.
‘I wasn’t going to go anywhere,’ Claire replied.
II.
Claire and John had been dating well over a year now. It was no surprise that he was taking her for dinner, though tonight, he seemed more distracted and nervous than usual. ‘If you’re worried about the new deal, don’t be,’ she said in the car on the way to the restaurant. She guessed that was why there were going; to meet the boss of another company. ‘You’ll be fine. You always are.’
John glanced across at her, and then focussed on the road ahead of him again. ‘Yeah,’ he replied, absent-mindedly as he turned and pulled into the restaurant car park. They got out the car, Claire linking his arm when he’d shut the door. She wondered what would distract her this time. Though she loved John, she wished he wouldn’t drag her to these meetings. All they did was talk numbers and statistics and she was left to sit there, getting slowly drunk on glass of wine after glass of wine as she waited for the night to end.
They entered the restaurant and he led her to a table for two at the back. Claire frowned, but guessed they’d move to a bigger table when the other company arrived. They ordered a light meal; pasta and a glass of white wine, John still glancing at the clock every five minutes, hand sneaking into his pocket at every opportunity. Time passed and they made light talk about Luka and Lola and her apartment and working at Starbucks and finally, Claire wondered if the others were ever going to arrive at all.
And then John was moving to kneel beside her and Claire just watched wide-eyed as he pulled the velvet box from his pocket and held it up to her. ‘Will you marry me?’ he asked. Claire gaped at him, eyes wide, suddenly a lot paler than normal. This was like something out of a movie. He frowned lightly at her, other couples turning to watch them, some cheering.
‘Yes,’ she squeaked out and everyone was cheering and the waiter came over to pop the cork of a champagne bottle. John slipped the ring on her finger and stood up. He took her hand and lifted her up also, kissing her softly on the lips and holding her close.
III.
‘Don’t you think it’s about time you moved out of this shit hole?’ John demanded for the hundredth time as he gazed around Claire and Lola’s apartment.
‘We happen to like it here,’ Lola snapped from the sofa, arms folded over her chest. ‘We don’t ask you to come here, so stop fucking criticising.’
‘It’s not that bad,’ Claire said, stood in the tiny kitchen that was only bigger than an airing cupboard because of a couple of inches.
‘The hallway outside stinks,’ John retorted. ‘There are tramps burning fires outside. There’s no fucking central heating. No double glazing.’
‘It’s fucking lucky you don’t live here,’ Lola hissed. ‘How the hell would you cope?’
‘Don’t take that tone with me,’ he replied, rounding on her. Lola got to her feet, showing no fear.
‘Or what? You start yelling percentages at me?’
John’s jaw clenched and he turned on Claire. ‘We’re going out,’ he said. ‘Come on.’ Claire nodded, moving to grab her coat. Lola shook her head.
‘You don’t have to follow him around like a puppy, you know.’ Claire flashed her a hurt look and shook her head.
‘Just leave it,’ she muttered, following John out the door and shutting it behind her. John stayed in angry silence for the whole car journey, not stopping until he driven around most of New York, not really going anywhere. By night fall, he pulled up outside the plaza, but grabbed Claire’s hand when she went to get out.
‘You better tell your friend to keep her mouth shut,’ he said, in a strangely calm voice. ‘I mean it.’ Claire nodded and he let go of her wrist. ‘You can walk from here.’ She climbed out the car, watching as he sped off into the night.
When she finally got home, she frowned, listening to Lola sobbing from her bedroom. Knocking on the door, she opened it. Lola was laid on her front, fists clenching the material of her pillow, face pressed into the mattress.
‘Lola?’ she asked. Lola instantly fell quiet, other than the odd sniff, before she pulled herself up. She was never one to show her true emotions around people and she gave Claire a half hearted smile.
‘Luka dumped me today,’ she said simply, sitting up and wiping her mascara run eyes. ‘For Rachel. Why doesn’t it surprise me? She’s younger than me, blond, slim, has long legs. I bet she can do the splits as well.’ Claire watched her trying to stop the tears, but they leaked again.
‘Get dressed,’ she said, after a moment. Lola frowned at her.
‘Why?’
‘We’re going out. We’ll go to a club. I don’t want to see you sad. So, fuck it. Let’s get pissed.’ Lola allowed herself a small laugh and got to her feet.
‘Alright, alright. I hope something exciting will happen tonight,’ she smiled. ‘I could do with cheering up.’
IIII.
John could almost see them together now; Claire and Ray. On top of the fucking Plaza of all places. He could see her wearing his shirt, making tea in his kitchen, kissing his lips instead of John’s.
John unscrewed the cap of the Jack Daniel’s bottle he was grasping and he took a deep drink. On the sofa beside him, Rachel lay naked and sleeping. Fucking slag. John’s lip curled. She thought it was love. He was just fucking around with her until Claire came to her senses and left that jerk.
Until Claire came crawling back to him. Of course, he’d be ready to accept her back into his life, knowing she’d have learnt her lesson. John looked down at his clenched fist and relaxed it. He’d regretted the first punch on her fragile body that Tuesday night, but it hadn’t stopped him giving her the beating of her life. She had to learn.
Why didn’t she understand?
He was all she had. He was the only one that was good for her. Why didn’t she understand that he was the only one that truly loved her? John lifted up the bottle again and drained the rest of the whiskey.
And that fucking Ray. Who the fuck was he anyway? Just someone she’d picked up off the street? John knew that wasn’t true; he was wealthy too. Rachel had told him in reward for sex. He and that man, Walt. The one that Lola was dating. John almost felt sorry for Luka.
Not too sorry though, seeing as he was fucking his girlfriend behind his back. John smirked, chucking the bottle on the sofa beside him. He could feel the alcohol warming his stomach, running through his veins and making him light-headed. Getting to his feet, he made his drunken way into the hallway. He picked up the phone, dialling Claire’s familiar number. It rung, rung, rung.
‘Hello?’ Claire answered.
‘It’s me,’ he murmured, resting his forehead against the cool wall and shutting his eyes, savouring the sound of her voice.
‘What do you want?’
‘Don’t leave me,’ he said, the drink causing him to slur slightly. ‘I love you, Claire. You know that. I’m the only one who’s good for you.’
‘So good that you beat me up?’ she demanded. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘Don’t be like that,’ he protested. ‘I was just angry.’
‘I don’t beat people who when I’m angry!’ she replied. He could hear the quiver in her voice. He could almost taste it.
‘I won’t do it again. I promise. We can go away. Out of the city. Just the two of us.’
‘Isn’t Rachel getting cold in that big bed without you?’ she asked, pointedly.
‘She means nothing to me,’ he spat.
‘Who is it?’ John heard another man in the background. It was quiet for a moment, before Claire replied, ‘John.’
Suddenly, the phone changed hands. ‘Leave her the fuck alone,’ the man spat.
‘Is this Ray?’ John asked.
‘Yeah, and I swear to God, I’ll break every bone in your fucking body if you come near her again,’ he hissed. John laughed.
‘Big words for a li-’ The sound of the dial tone filled his ear and with a growl, John slammed the phone against the wall.
‘John?’ said a voice in the doorway. He looked up to see Rachel stood there, tugging her nightie on. ‘Are you okay?’ He didn’t answer her, just ran a hand through his hair and moved past her to grab his jacket.
‘I’m going out.’
V.
The bells were ringing in the church. People were beginning to flood outside, lining up beside the doors. And then the couple came out and they cheered and wolf whistled and threw confetti. Cameras flashed, capturing their smiles of pure happiness, hands grasped together, wedding rings sparkling in the sunlight.
Ray paused, turning Claire towards him and catching her lips in his. Claire arms went around his neck and then they broke apart and continued down the stairs. Their feet crunched the gravel underfoot and then Lola was there, hugging Claire tightly and kissing her cheek and murmuring about how proud she was in the younger woman’s ear. Walt punched Ray affectionately on the shoulder and then the two men hugged. The newly married couple were swamped by family members, little children running around their feet, bending to pick up individual pieces of confetti and chuck them again.
John watched from the gates, a blank expression on his face. He watched them all pose for photos, stood on the grassy area beside the church, all smiling for the camera.
Then, it was time for the couple of leave. Claire linked Ray’s arm and she looked up at him. Ray met her graze and there was so much love and happiness in their eyes and John had to look away. He stepped back into the bushes as they passed through the gates. A man was waiting beside the wedding car and he opened the back door. Turning to wave at their guests, Claire and Ray climbed in and the driver shut the door.
John stepped out the bushes again, shoulders slumped. He’d lost. It was an odd feel, especially for someone who’d never lost at anything.
No matter how angry, scary, pleading or persuasive he’d been, he’d failed at getting Claire back. He watched as the car drove off, cans clattering on the road. Slowly, he turned and pulled out the keys to his own car. He opened the door and slipped inside.
He reversed out the parking spot and drove off in the opposite direction.