Chapter Text
Donald had seen her backstage, with that ridiculously ugly haircut, standing in the doorframe with her back to him, talking to one of her aids and flipping through notes.
His stomach had pitched dangerously, and a sheen of sweat made his palms instantly clammy as he nearly sprinted to the safety of his dressing room.
“I’ll see you in a second, Paul, I need to take a piss,” Donald mumbled to his campaign manager, slamming the door in the man’s face, cutting off a slew of protests.
Donald slumped back against the door, placing his hand against his chest, feeling his heart beat flutter through the cotton of his white dress shirt. It was beating so hard he could feel it in his fingertips.
Hillary Clinton was here.
And if Hillary was here… Bubba wouldn’t be too far behind.
Trump resisted the urge to yank at his necktie, to pull away the fabric tied around his neck like a noose.
Bill Clinton.
The sexiest man Trump had ever laid eyes on. The smartest. The most charming. The man with the largest dick Trump had ever seen… ever sucked. His ass could still feel how deep Bill Clinton had fucked him even ten years ago.
God, still Trump wanted Bill Clinton.
Bill was the reason Trump was even running for this godsforsaken office in the first place.
Trump didn’t give a fuck about America. He didn’t give a fuck about liberty, equality, justice, or any of the bland fucking story sold to naive little kids as the “American Dream”.
None of those things made him any money. It was all a scam.
But the thought of HER becoming president of the United States? The thought of HER being universally loved across the nation? The thought of HER going into history books as the first female president? The thought of HER having all the power and lording it over him?
No. Trump couldn’t let that happen. In fact, that’s why he had run at all, to take something from her that she had wanted, just like she had taken from him.
Hilary Clinton had held up the love and affection of her husband so many times and in so many different ways it made Trump want to hurl up his breakfast just remembering it. He would stop at nothing, NOTHING, to humiliate Hillary Clinton on the world’s largest stage for stealing the love of his life away. Tonight was only the beginning.
There was a soft knock on the door from the outside, and Trump opened his mouth to yell at Paul or Mike or whoever the fuck it was to screw off.
“Donald…” Donald Trump froze in place. He knew that voice. Intimately. It had been one of the only softest, most loving voices he had ever heard. Donald’s heart both fell and started to beat like a fistful or thunder in the same moment. “Hey, Donald, it’s me. Can you let me in?”
Before Trump could stop himself he turned and whipped the door open, only to find Bill Clinton waiting for him on the other side.