Title: Buyouts, Hostile Takeovers & Matchmaking (or why making charts isn't condusive to matchmaking)
Disclaimer: We still have not acquired the WB in our numerous possessions. Therefore, we don't any of the characters within the story either. But, we think you knew that already.
Challenge Requirements:
The Father Knows Best challenge. (Inspired by Fiona's A Clean Pair of Eyes)
Simply put, Lionel and Gabe play matchmaker for their kids. I only have two requirements. 1) Chloe and Lex can't already have feelings for each other. and 2) Gabe and Lionel should refer to each other by thier first names. Any rating.
STUFF TO KNOW!!!: This is AU for two reasons, namely 1) It's set in the future. We're 8 years down the line from now time (season 4) and 2) Some stuff never happened: Lionel didn't kill his parents, therefore never tried to kill Lex, or Chloe or Gabe and never went to prison either. This is Lionel-Light.
A/N:Sabby: We couldn't help ourselves and started another fic. It just happened, really. This is the answer to Imps Father Knows Best Challenge. WIP people, no regular updates ahead of you. Enjoy
A/N: Blue: Welcome to BHT&MMOWMCICTMM. The idea of Gabe and Lionel joining forces was too good to pass up. And look, we've got a bitching title, too! And no, we were not high when we came up with it. Just tired. Happy reading!
Prologue
The huge mahogany table was covered from one end to the other with all of the data that Lionel Luthor had collected in the past few weeks. The data had been acquired swiftly but quietly. There were those around him that could not be privy to what he was researching. Or else, the merger that he was trying to rig would fall apart.
But, he was determined that he would have the upper hand in this matter and that the end result would be one that he had determined. He wasn’t getting any younger and that thought was driving him to press on where others had told him to temper his vigor.
Perhaps ‘others’ was not the appropriate word. There was only one other man with whom he was engineering this with. However, at this particular point in time, Gabe Sullivan did not appear to be on board with the pathway that Lionel had set up for them.
Yes, it was aggressive. But that was the way that you got something that you wanted. One didn’t sit idly by and pray to a god that most likely didn’t exist and then expect to get what was desired. A man had to go out and get it. Lionel was used to getting what he wanted. And, this merger was the most important of his career.
Gabe shook his head, looking at yet another of the multiple charts on the table. He'd agreed to work with Lionel, combine their forces and minds to get the end result. If someone had told him about a year ago they'd work towards the same goal, he'd have had them committed instantaneously. As it was, they were sitting here, in Lionel's office, planning a union that would change both their lives and influence that of others, inevitably throwing them together for better or for worse.
“Lionel, I know that waiting is not the way to go, but don't you think that this,” he threw the chart onto the desk, “Is a little too extreme? I mean, this is not a corporate buyout, where you don't leave the participants a choice,” he stated carefully.
Lionel leaned back in his chair and regarded the man that was standing before him. Clearly, Gabe didn’t fully comprehend what they were doing. “Gabe, we need to go after this with all that we’ve got.”
He rose out of his chair and picked up the chart that had just been unceremoniously heaved onto the table. The chart was well put together, color coordinated and had cost a great deal of money. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that it would work. It had to work because Lionel would not accept defeat.
“This,” he said, waving the bound papers around, “dictates our battle plan. The people that we are dealing with are not just going to roll over and do what we advise them to do, we both know that.” He gave Gabe a pointed look, almost daring the man to disagree with him.
“Everything that we do must be extreme.” He threw the chart back on the table and then circled the table, taking in all of the information that they now had at their fingertips. “Besides, the involved parties have already had years to make their choices. They are just clearly incapable of making the correct choices. Which is where we come in.”
Lionel smirked at his partner in crime. Gabe needed to realize that this would not be an easy road to tread and that they would have to play dirty and cheat in order to win.
Gabe heaved a sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose and got up of his chair. He took the few paces towards the wet bar and turned over a glass.
Turning back to Lionel, he got a shake of the head, then turned back towards the bar, pouring himself a generous helping of scotch. After the first sip, the pressure behind his eyes eased up a little. It galled him to say it, but Lionel did have a good point. The task at hand was far from the usual business deal, and there was much more at stake. The people involved were all stubborn to distraction and almost incapable of being budged. Lionel and he were pretty much the irresistible force trying to bring together two immovable objects. Something had to give.
”I just don't feel comfortable with this. We're trying to force something together. What if it ends up breaking instead of melding together like it's supposed to?”
This was why the plan would work. Between the two of them, they would think of everything. All possible outcomes, obstacles and details that separated would have eluded them.
“If you didn’t feel comfortable with this, some part of you at least, you would not have agreed to it.” Gabe needed to get over feeling as if he was doing something wrong. They might not know it, but both parties should thank both he and Gabe for getting involved in the scheme.
Lionel shrugged at his last question. “They have broken apart numerous times in the past with various skirmishes, threats and general irritability that they both seem to display. But some force keeps them coming back to one another. We’ve both seen it happen time and time again.” Gabe continued to sip on his scotch. He was rather proud of himself for introducing the man to a good bottle of the alcohol. He had finally broken Gabe of his beer preference almost altogether, too.
“If some catastrophe befalls the two parties, and I’m almost sure it will at least once, we will deal with it and move on.” Lionel looked at his watch, he had another meeting in ten minutes. Which meant that he and Gabe needed to leave in five in order to get back to the main part of the building.
The room that they were now in was in the basement of the building and guarded twenty four hours. Another fact that Gabe thought was too much but it comforted Lionel to know that no one other than himself or Gabe could gain access to their command center. Plus, if one were going to have a surreptitious command center, it should be in the basement away from prying eyes.
Looking again at Gabe, he said, “You know that this will cause us migraines and a great deal of discomfort before we reap any direct benefits.”
Gabe couldn't help snorting, then downed the drink in one go. “You better buy stock in Advil, as far as I'm concerned,” he muttered.
This didn't sit well with him, but he knew that there really was no choice. They'd have to get through this, come hell or high water, and make it work. It was for the best of all parties involved. There would be no going back once it officially started and, according to the general index of the plan it would take months before they succeeded, and that was the most positive calculation.
With a sigh he placed the glass back on the bar and nodded towards Lionel. “Ok, let's get this show on the road.”
Lionel grinned over at Gabe. He was certain that once the wheels began to turn that the other man would see that he was right.
As they walked towards the door, Lionel clapped the other man on the back in encouragement. “Don’t worry, Gabe. I’m sure that once Chloe is in love with Lex, and vice versa that all of this will have been worth it.”
Lionel spared one last glance into the room as the door closed. The table was covered with personality reports, compatibility charts and, perhaps most importantly, gullibility scales. Yes, this was a job that only a madman would tackle. Or, perhaps, two.
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