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vcnatorr · 2 years

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Sunday, November 13th ~~ Crackship AU

You’re just too good to be true

Pairing: Cheralynne “Hera” Alexander/William C. Clayton Tags: 5k, unbeta’d, enemies to lovers, college au, 10 things I hate about you reference, what’s the opposite of a slowburn?, Tristan Is A Dick, Clayton is also a dick but he has a redemption arc, idiots in love, drinking/alcohol, also mentions of vomit you have been warned

Authors note: I was gonna wait til the 13th to post this but it has eaten away at my brain all day so here it is. Know that I hate the crackship with a passion that burns so intensely it could perfectly toast a marshmallow. Also I haven’t read this back so any spelling/grammar/continuity errors are between you and this post bc I haven’t look for them :)

"There's absolutely no way."

"I could. I could do it - 100 pounds sterling says I could do it."

Clayton arched his eyebrows, smiling wide. Cocky, as he had a tendency to be. This time, though, he really did think he could do it.

"I heard she bit the last guy who asked her out." Tristan pointed out, looking at Clayton as though his idea was sheer lunacy. "He has a scar! I've seen it!"

"Well, more fool him for putting his arm where her teeth could find it." Clayton shrugged. He would not be so stupid. If anyone could take Hera Alexander to the Summer Ball, it was him, and he was going to do it.

"£100." He reiterated.

"You're on." Tristan nodded. "Gives me a little spending money for summer break."

Clayton chuckled, pushing up from his seat at the edge of the campus café. Hera had been sitting at a table on the opposite side of the courtyard for some time now, typing away at her laptop and periodically chewing on her lip. She was alone, but that was nothing new. She was always alone.

From what Clayton could glean, Hera had no friends, and no desire to make any either. She had been pretty popular in first and second year, to his recollection. She'd had some rugby player boyfriend, and had gone around with the rest of the rugby WAGs, but then she'd come back for third year and everything had changed. She was aloof, and standoffish, and apparently prone to violence.

They were almost at the end of the year now and things had yet to change. But whoever she'd been in first year had to still be in there somewhere, and Clayton was going to get it out of her. Though an extra hundred quid in his pocket would be nice, the satisfaction of being right would be even sweeter.

Sitting down at the seat opposite hers, Clayton smiled. "Hera - sorry, are you working on the British History essay?"

She looked up, holding his gaze for a solid five seconds before she looked down at her laptop again. "I'm not doing yours for you, before you ask."

"Oh, I wasn't gonna ask that - I'm a firm believer in hard work." He lied, giving her a crooked smile. "Actually I was just going to ask for your help - three years in and I still have the essay skills of a toddler--"

"So go and speak to one of the professors." Hera said, without looking up. "It's quite literally their job."

Clayton nodded slowly. This was going to be more difficult than he thought, perhaps. But he wasn't put off - he liked a challenge. "Right, of course - I'll do that." He wouldn't, but for an immediate change of topic-- "Are you going to Simba's house party this weekend?"

Silence; Hera's fingers hovered over the keyboard of her laptop for a beat, two, three, before they resumed again. "Why do you care?"

"When did I ever give you reason to think I didn't care?"

The typing stopped again. Hera gave him a look that might have sent lesser men running for the hills. "Nobody cares whether or not I'm at a party, Clayton." She looked down at her laptop again, shaking her head. "Are you done?"

"I'll leave you too it." He told her, like she hadn't basically told him to leave. "Hope to see you there on saturday."

Hera didn't look up at him again, nor did her typing stop, but Clayton was sure he could feel her eyes on his back as he went back to his table, the weight of her gaze heavy on him as he grabbed his bag.

"That looked like it went well." Tristan commented. Clayton thought about wiping the shit-eating grin right off his face, but he wouldn't. He would let him think whatever he wanted to think for now; it would make his victory at summer ball so much sweeter.

"Just you wait," Clayton told him, beginning to move away from the table to his afternoon class. "And be prepared to pay up."

~*~

Clayton had no idea what kind of sound system Simba had but it was enough to vibrate the walls, the floor, even his ribs as he pushed his way through the house. The house was packed with bodies, people hugging the walls and shouting into each other's ears to be heard over the pulsing music, others making impromptu dancefloors, barely able to move for how many people were there. Now technically Clayton was here on a mission: find Hera, if she was here, and convince her that human companionship wasn't as dreadful as she seemed to think it was. Alternatively, if she wasn't there, find someone who had Hera's number and get it from them, so he could text her telling her how missed she was.

But this was a party. Which meant he didn't want to rush himself. He might as well take the time to enjoy himself first, right? He thought that was only fair. He wasn't going to drink - he wanted to be clear-headed for talking to Hera so he didn't put his foot in it - but he at least allowed himself a few hours of time with his friends, a little careful flirting, a bit of a dance, before he started looking for Hera. He saw a flash of crimson hair pushing bodily through the crowd, before disappearing off into the kitchen.

Clayton gave a mock-salute to his friends and followed the path Hera had taken.

She had her back to him, and he was not even remotely surprised to find that she hadn't made any kind of effort to get dressed up. Non-descript jeans and a plain, long-sleeved purple shirt, which she was presumably sweating in, because with all the bodies inside the house it was practically sub-tropical. Clayton set his cup down on the countertop loud enough to alert her to his presence, but Hera didn't turn around. Instead, he watched her pour herself a drink that might as well have been all spirit and no mixer, before tipping her head back to take a gulp.

"You know, I think if you served that to someone else it would be attempted murder." Clayton commented, wondering if Hera would turn around to look at him.

She did, head jerking to the side, her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a party." Clayton shrugged. "Anyone's invited. At least, as far as I'm aware."

"No," Hera shook her head, and Clayton saw the grip on her cup tightening, her fingertips turning white with it. "What are you doing in here?"

Clayton looked at her, the picture of innocence. Or at least, that was what he hoped he looked like. "Like I said - it's a party. I came to get a drink." That seemed to irritate her even more, so Clayton cleared his throat. He could see the red rim around her eyes, the flush in her face that could just be the alcohol but could realistically be anger, or upset. There was definitely something wrong. Had her voice seemed shakey, or was he just imagining it? "And I... saw you come in here. You seemed-- I don't know. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine." She grit out, taking another drink from the cup in her hand, causing her face to twist. "Why wouldn't I be fine? My ex-boyfriend and my ex-best friend are making out next to Simba's pool. That's fine."

This was a turn up for the books: Hera Alexander had feelings. She had done her best over the last nine months or so to make it seem like the opposite was true, but there she was, a shine in her eyes as she finished her drink and reached for another one. Clayton stood from where he had been leaning against the counter, coming to stand behind her, taking a gentle hold of her wrist to stop her from reaching for the bottle again. This close he could smell her perfume, feel the warmth radiating off her body.

"You're better than the both of them - you know that, don't you?" He asked, his head tilting to the side so that he could see her face.

Her lower lip wobbled. She swayed for a moment on her feet before she yanked her hand away, turning on her feet and storming out of the kitchen. Clayton could've gone after, but he thought he'd better let her go, at least for now. If he pushed too hard he could quite easily push her the wrong way, and he was never going to win the bet that way.

He didn't exactly forget about Hera, but time did get away from him a little bit. It was until an hour later, midnight coming and going, when he heard shouts from a very concerned partygoer-- "Get her outside, oh fuck-- she's gonna barf, one hundred percent, move it!"

Clayton looked over towards the sound of the noise; he didn't recognise the kid with his arm around Hera's waist, but she certainly didn't look good. Her face was flushed, and she stumbled over her feet as she was herded towards the front door. Clayton didn't bother bidding goodbye to his friends; he just hurried towards the front door, stepping out into the cool night air.

"Yup, that's it," The kid was saying, patting Hera's back as she puked into the flowerbeds by Siba's front porch. "Get it all out."

"I've got it from here," Clayton said, smiling at the kid as he rested a hand on Hera's arm, keeping her from falling over into a rose bush. "You go back in, enjoy the party."

The kid didn't need too much persuading - he scurried back into the house, leaving Clayton to try and hold Hera's hair back from her face. He grimaced; it wasn't the nicest job in the world, admittedly. Hera wiped her mouth with her sleeve, looking up at him - she tired to push him away, but Clayton held fast.

"Leave m'alone," Hera grumbled.

Clayton helped her straighten up, putting an arm around her waist. "Why don't we get you home? I brought my car, I can drive."

"I might throw up in it."

"I'll take that risk."

Hera eyed him sceptically, before eventually jerking her chin at him, which he assumed was supposed to be a nod. He led her a little ways down the street, digging around in his jacket pocket for his car keys. He helped Hera in first, reaching across her to buckle her seatbelt in. She pushed at his shoulder as he retreat, and he shot her a charming smile. "Safety first." He reminded her, before moving around to the driver's side.

Hera managed to mumble out an address, so at least Clayton had an idea of where he was going. He turned the radio down until it was a gentle hum in the background, glancing over at Hera every now and again, mostly to make sure she hadn't fallen unconscious.

"You never answered me, you know." He glanced over at her; she had the window cracked open, her head turned towards the cool night air that drifted in. "In the kitchen."

She didn't answer him for long enough that he wondered if she had fallen asleep with her eyes open. Maybe the fresh air was sobering her up a little, because when she did speak her voice was startlingly clear. "Why are you doing this?"

"What?"

"Leaving a party to take me home." She looked at him only briefly; she couldn't take her nose away from the window for very long, apparently. "'s not very you."

So she thought she knew him? Clayton grinned. If Hera thought she knew him it meant she'd thought about him, and that would make this win even easier, in his opinion. "Is that so?"

Hera rolled her eyes; he caught it in the wing mirror, her face still turned out the window. She didn't say anything else, so Clayton continued, "Maybe I just thought..." He took a deep breath, deliberating on which lie to tell. "That it was about time someone looked out for you."

Hera scoffed. Clayton glanced at her again, but she still wasn't looking at him.

"I... have always quite admired you." He said slowly, keeping his gaze ahead. For some reason the words were hard to force out. Easier when his focus was on the road rather than her. "And it seems like you haven't had anyone to do that for you in a while. So why not me?"

Silence. Clayton didn't really know what else to say, and for some reason he still really didn't want to look at Hera, so he just waited. After a good ten seconds, though, he thought she might have said something.

She shifted in her seat. "'m gonna throw up."

"Oh, god."

Clayton pulled over, giving Hera the chance to half-climb out the window to throw up over the side of the car. Clayton held her hair back as best he could from the driver's seat, grimacing the entire time.

Hera got out of the car without any help once they arrived, barely waiting for Clayton to put the handbrake on before she slipped out. He ducked a little to look out of the passenger side window, calling out to her, "Need me to help you in?"

She shot him a withering look over his shoulder before staggering up the garden path to her front door. There was some fumbling with the keys, but she got herself inside; Clayton waited until the door closed again and the light in the front room went on before he left, half debating whether or not to double back to the party.

~*~

"Do you still need help with your essay?"

Clayton almost jumped out of his skin. Hera had appeared out of nowhere at his elbow as he waited in line at the campus café. There was no way in hell he could handle British Politics in the 19th Century without coffee.

From the place in front, Tristan glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows shoot upwards. Clayton smiled, looking away from Tristan and down at Hera; he hadn't seen her since the party on Saturday night, and he hadn't managed to get her number, so he'd gone a whole day without knowing how she was doing. Hungover, presumably.

But she looked fresh as a daisy this morning - in fact, she looked better than she usually did. Almost like she'd made an effort.

"Oh, shoot-- I never did get round to talking to the prof--"

"I can help you." Hera interrupted him before he could finish. "As a thank you, for the other night. But after that we're even. Got it?"

Clayton's smile only inched wider. "Sure. How about tonight, your house--"

"Your house," She said. "And tomorrow, after class. Okay?"

"You're the boss." Clayton smiled, watching her as she walked away. Only once she'd completely disappeared from view did he look over at Tristan, sporting a similar shit-eating grin to Tristan's own just a few days ago. "I hope you're ready to pay out."

Tristan grimaced, saying something that Clayton wasn't listening to. He was thinking about Hera, about the way she seemed a little brighter than she usually did. Tomorrow after class - he could wait until then. Just about.

~*~

Clayton directed Hera up to his bedroom, grateful at least that all of his housemates were out. They were the type to make jokes that Hera presumably wouldn't appreciate, and the last thing he needed right now was for her to be put off. He closed the bedroom door behind them, and gestured to his bed.

"No desk?" Hera asked. She was right - his room didn't have a desk. He wasn't exactly the studious type.

She was looking at him with one eyebrow raised in question. Clayton cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, unsure as to why he felt rather sheepish. "I prefer to work in comfort." He said simply, nodding again to the bed.

Hera pursed her lips for a moment, but she didn't say anything. She pulled a pencil case and a notepad from her bag before plopping it down at the foot of the bed. "Come on, then."

Clayton didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed his own notepad, with his very poorly scribbled essay in it, and sat down next to her.

They were close enough that their shoulders brushed, as Hera took a highlighter and a purple pen to his work. She wasn't silent, though - she pointed things out to him as she went, scrawling comments into the margins and tapping them with the tip of her pen as she explained them aloud. Not that Clayton was focusing, of course; he could smell the scent of her shampoo, cherry and almond, mingling with the florals of her perfume. Her hair fell between them like a curtain, so he reached across, using one finger to tuck it gently behind her ear.

Hera blinked, looking up at him as he pulled his hand away. Her lips parted ever so slightly, as if she was going to say something, but she looked back down at the task at hand before any words formed.

They went through the rest of the essay, Hera writing a few key points underneath in her quick, looping handwriting.

"So it's awful?" He asked, turning his head to look at her.

"No," She said quickly, turning her head, too. There wasn't much space between them; he had drifted closer, her shoulder pressing into his chest as he looked down at the book. He was so close now that he could feel her breath fanning his face as she spoke. "Well. It is right now." She gave him a barely-there smile, just a gentle curve of her lips. "But we can make it better."

He nodded, but he wasn't thinking about the essay anymore. He was looking at her, eyes travelling down to her lips. He reached his hand across the space between them, the same one that had so delicately tucked her hair behind her ear, and used it to cup her face, the barest, feather-light touch of his fingers along her jawline as he leaned in to press his lips to hers.

And for a moment she responded, her lips parting beneath his, the notebook falling to the floor. But just as soon as it had started it was over - Hera shoved him away so hard he almost fell over as she stood, throwing her things haphazardly into her bag.

"I fucking knew it," She ground out, laughing mirthlessly. "I knew it, you only ever want one fucking thing--"

He jumped up, grabbing her hand as she made for the door. "Hera--"

"Just leave me alone." She whirled on him, snatching her hand back. "You've got your essay help, I did the work for you, well done. Now leave me alone, okay?"

He didn't know what else to say. He let her go, hearing her footsteps thud down the stairs, the front door slamming shut so hard that it shook the floor beneath his feet. He ran a hand through his hair - idiot. What had he done? He crossed the room again, picking up his notebook from the floor. His eyes caught a small smiley face, doodled in purple ink next to part of his work.

He was going to have to make this right.

~*~

"You're just too good to be true--"

This was incredibly dumb.

"--can't take my eyes off you--"

It was a gamble. A huge one.

"--you'd be like heaven to touch--"

He had a feeling it was going to pay off, though.

"--I wanna hold you so much. You're just to good to be true--"

Oh, good. She was looking. As well as everyone else on the courtyard, but that was rather the idea.

"--can't take my eyes off you."

The backing track kicked in at that exact moment thanks to someone Clayton had paid at the student radio actually doing their job, and maybe he should've used the school band but how was he supposed to know where they met up and when? He was organising this on a tight schedule, there wasn't time for rehearsals.

Hera was looking at him, watching from the bench she was perched on at the far end of the courtyard as he hit the chorus - he wasn't a bad singer, necessarily, but he wasn't in the glee club or anything either. Still, it had the desired effect: it made him look like an idiot in public, even more so when someone snatched the microphone off of him and asked him to please shut up.

He made his way over to Hera, the backing track cutting off abruptly. Apparently the student radio had gotten the message to shut things down as well.

"Alright, so they didn't like it." He shrugged, grinning at her. "What did you think?"

"You stole that from 10 Things I Hate About You."

"Maybe," Clayton nodded. "But apparently the ladies love Heath Ledger, so I thought I'd give it a shot."

Hera looked at him sceptically. Clayton took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. About last night. I didn't mean to--" He shook his head. "What are you doing now? Can I offer you apology ice cream?"

He held a hand out to her in invitation. Hera pursed her lips, looking at that outstretched hand, and before Clayton could retract it feeling like even more of an idiot than he did before, she took it.

"Okay. But you're driving."

~*~

Whether it was the ice cream or the grand gesture that softened Hera up Clayton didn't really know, but he was glad that she wasn't mad at him anymore. It had made him feel strangely torn up inside, twisted and knotted and just not right. Knowing that she wasn't upset with him evened everything out again, and for once, he let her talk, and he listened.

They didn't particularly have much in common, but he found that he didn't mind. She was easy to listen to; she was funnier than anyone probably imagined, and quite philosophical, once she got going. When they eventually got kicked out of the ice cream place Clayton offered to drive her home - and to pick her up again in the morning, if she liked.

May quickly turned to June, the rush of final exams finding him sat at lunch with Hera, occasionally studying (her more than him, but he at least pretended), mostly just chatting. In the middle of exam season the posters went up: Summer Ball, tickets on sale now.

"I assume you're beating off the men with a stick?" Clayton asked her, looking down at the flyer in his hand. The theme was Summer in Paris, which was pretty lame, but Summer Ball was usually a good time regardless.

Hera snorted, shifting her books to her other arm. Clayton took them from her, swapping them for the flyer. "Yeah, right. I only have one friend and that's you. Make of that what you will."

"I think it must mean you're an incredible person, to land me as a friend." Friend. He felt like he had to force the word out, struggling to get it past his teeth. "Go with me."

Hera snorted again. "Sure."

"I'm serious." He pulled her to a stop, so that they were face to face in the middle of the corridor. Like a stone in a river, the current of people moved around them, barely registering them at all. "Go to Summer Ball with me."

"As a friend?"

"As a date."

Hera considered him for a moment. Clayton had gotten used to these little interludes, where Hera would go quiet, the cogs inside her head turning. Her face broke into a smile, so bright he felt like sunbathing in the light from it, but she quickly fought it, offering him a smaller, almost timid smile instead.

"Alright, then." She nodded, glancing away like a school girl. "It's a date."

"I'll pick you up."

"You always do."

Final exams came and went; Clayton drove to Hera's house in his best suit, waiting outside as he had been isntructed to do. He leaned against the car, only standing up when he heard the front door open.

Hera appeared on the driveway, and when she turned Clayton felt his breath catch in his throat. Her dress was deep violet silk, tight around the bodice and her hips before it splayed outwards, the skirt falling just above her knees. It occurred to him that he'd never seen her in a dress before, nevermind heels; she looked amazing. But, then again, she looked amazing in her regular clothes, too.

"Am I late?" She asked, hurrying down the driveway. "I'm sorry if I--"

"You're fine." Clayton told her, his voice sounding more incredulous than he meant it to. "You look--"

"Ridiculous, I know."

"--incredible."

Hera blushed, pink staining her cheeks. She looked down, a lock of hair falling loose. Clayton reached out to tuck it back into place, doing his best to hide his amusement when her head jerked up.

"Come on," He said, opening the car door for her. "Don't want to miss the party, do we?"

The theme was just as cheesy as he had expected, but everyone seemed to be having a good time. Already a decent sized crowd on the dancefloor, but Clayton led Hera towards the refreshment tablet first, picking up the free champagne flute of off-brand fizz that the university had allowed them - one per person, of course.

"We should get our photos taken," Hera said, looking over towards the booth. "I don't think it's even that expensive--"

"You know, I never thought I'd be proven wrong."

Tristan's voice cut her off, and the two of them turned. He held out a few neatly folded bills, held between two fingers. "Well done, mate. Truly, I thought it was impossible."

Clayton's stomach dropped. The bet - he had forgotten all about it. Time had passed since then, things had changed. He had gotten to know Hera, had gotten to see her, properly see her, know her for how wonderful she was. Smart and fierce and tender, underneath the walls she had put up. He had asked her to Summer Ball because he wanted to be here with her, not because--

"Well?" Tristan laughed. "Aren't you going to take it?"

"I'll take it if you don't." Hera said with a laugh of her own, nudging Clayton gently. "What's it for?"

Tristan smiled, and it looked sickly. "Just a little gentleman's agreement. A bit of a bet."

"Tristan--"

"See, Clayton here bet me £100 that he could take you to the Ball, but I just. Honestly, I thought he'd never do it. More fool me."

Hera had gone still beside him. She was staring at Tristan, her breathing slow and deliberate.

"Will you please fuck off?" Clayton snapped at Tristan, only briefly looking at his way. "Keep your bloody money."

"If that's how you feel." He tucked the money back into his breat pocket, raising his palms in surrender. "I'll leave you lovebirds to it, eh?"

"Hera--" Clayton began.

She lowered her chin, her bottom lip wobbling again. He could see the frown etched so deep into her face, the hurt-- he wished he could wipe it all away, smooth out the lines with his thumb and take the pain with it. Before he could manage anything else she stormed off, pushing through the crowds still trying to get into the hall. Their outraged cries echoed behind him as Clayton pushed through them as well, back outside into the car park.

"Hera, please!" He called after her, breaking into a jog. How she could move that fast in those heels he had no idea. "Let me explain!"

"Explain what?" She yelled, turning on him. "Explain how you used me? How you humiliated me? How you tricked me into feeling-- into--"

"I didn't mean to-- it started out like that." He took a step towards her and she held her ground, but the look in her eyes told him not to try anything else. "It started out like that, yes. At the party, inviting you over, I was-- I was trying to get close to you."

Her chest heaved, but she held her chin high. Clayton took another deep breath.

"But after that, when I kissed you, I felt awful. I didn't want you to think of me like that, I didn't want you to think I was that guy. And I was. Before I met you, properly met you, I was that guy."

He took a slow, careful step forward.

"But since I got to know you better, all I want to be... the only person I want to be is a person deserving of you. I want to be your friend. More than your friend. I want to be whoever you need me to be, and that bet--" His own voice wavered, a lump forming in his throat. He shook his head, running a hand careleslly through the hair he'd spent an hour on earlier. "I had forgotten all about that bloody, stupid bet because you were the only thing I was thinking about. You're the only thing I ever think about, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for making the bet in the first place, I'm sorry for everything since--"

He blinked away the tears in his eyes, and when his vision cleared Hera had come closer, looking up at him. She placed her hands on the lapels of his jacket, either side of his chest. His heart hammered beneath her palm.

"Do you mean it?"

"I'll spend the rest of my life apologising to you if I have to, Hera." He whispered. Tears tracked down her cheeks; he lifted his hand to wipe them away and she pressed her face into his palm. "I'll apologise as many times as you need me to because I love you. I love you."

Hera's hands curled in the fabric of his jacket, pulling him down until their lips crashed together. It was clumsy, desperate - not the best kiss in the world but the best kiss he had ever had.

When she pulled them apart she didn't go far; Clayton searched her face, his breath stuttering in his chest.

"I'm going to be mad at you for a little while," She said with a sniffle, looking up to meet his gaze. "But I love you too. So much."

He smiled, relief flooding his chest, making him feel light. He pressed his forehead to hers, savouring the touch for just a moment.

"Shall we get out of here?" He asked after a moment, pulling back just a little so he could look at her.

She was nodding. She smiled a little, glancing over his shoulder. "Yeah. The theme's shit anyways."

Clayton laughed, and Hera joined in after a moment or two, allowing him to tuck her into his side as they walked back to the car. Maybe the bet with Tristan had been stupid, but at least it had got him here. Holding the hand of the woman he loved as he pulled out of the parking lot, away from the whole sorry mess, and towards something better.

#swynwrimobee #swynwrimo #swynwrimo2022 #and you may ask yourself #why did i write this?#and there'll be no reply bc #i dont know either #one shot this one shot that #/writes a fanfic

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