054. pretend like it's the weekend now
Title | pretend like it's the weekend now (and we can pretend it all the time, yeah)
Chapter | 1/?
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Blair/Cater-Waiter-Guy
Summary | He doesn't give her butterflies but he gives her...something.
She calls him on a Tuesday morning, lying in bed in her robe.
"It's Blair Waldorf." She doesn't ask remember me? but she supposes that it's implied in her tone.
"Oh, hey." There's a pause, then he says, "Hey," again and she can hear his smile. "Totally hot girl. I remember you."
She holds court in her living room even when he's the only one there, lounging in a chair with her legs crossed demurely at the ankle. She eyes him critically over the edge of her martini glass. He's not drinking but he is checking her out, so she figures that's acceptable.
"Do you know who Chuck Bass is?"
"Bass like the fish?"
He has a nice smile, Blair decides. And a perfect answer.
She laughs and nods. "Sure, like the fish."
"Friday night." It's meant to be a statement but it might sound more like a question.
"You don't have to ask." Her eyes fly to his face and he elaborates, "I already said I'd be thrilled to date you, didn't I?"
Eight-oh-two on a Friday night, he shows up in a button-down shirt and pants that look pretty nice considering they're probably from LL Bean.
Only two minutes late and he blinks at her, says, "Whoa, you look beautiful," and she finds that she likes the way that sounds coming from him even more than totally hot.
She smoothes out her red dress and shakes out her hair, breathes a thank-you as she slinks by him and into the elevator.
"My name's Ryan." He clears his throat and holds the door of their cab open for her. "By the way."
He takes her to an art exhibit.
And she thinks it's going to be horrible, because it reminds her of Aaron Rose and meeting Chuck on a rooftop and a night that ended in tears.
But it's actually kind of nice.
Most of the art is abstract and odd, but Ryan makes fun of it all and makes her laugh. They agree that four of the pieces are actually very nice (he says five, but she shoots him down repeatedly until he finally gives in, telling her teasingly that she's impossible to argue with).
His hand brushes her back, and then his fingers touch hers, and she finds she doesn't mind.
They meet a couple of his friends there, guys in jeans and t-shirts with easy smiles. Blair shakes their hands and at one point she hears one of them hiss dude at Ryan.
(She does not blush. She doesn't.)
It turns out the gallery is only a block away from his apartment, and they hover on the sidewalk for nearly twenty minutes while Ryan eats a piece of overly-greasy pizza and Blair sips water from a plastic bottle.
He's cute. She likes him. Not quite enough to give her butterflies, but enough to give her…something.
"I can take you home," he suggests.
She's not quite sure what to do. She's never really dated before. With Nate it was easier than regular, pedestrian dating, and with Chuck it was infinitely more complicated.
And it's only ten o'clock.
And Ryan's still smiling at her.
"Or?" she asks, and she lifts her chin, tries to sound coy.
He tilts his head. "My building's right there. You want to have some coffee and maybe watch a movie or something?"
She's not sure what that means, out here in the real world with boys she hasn't known since kindergarten.
But she says yes anyway.
The air is cool and the stars are bright and it feels good.
They do drink coffee. And they do watch a movie.
(It's animated and it's called Up and Blair is thoroughly prepared to zone out for most of it, but she actually gets a little teary-eyed in the first ten minutes, and by the time they're one hour in she's laughing and her knee is pressed against Ryan's and his arm is slung over the back of the couch behind her.)
Afterward, the room is dark save for the dim light of the credits on the screen and his fingers are tangled in her hair.
"I can call you a cab," he says, his voice low.
Blair sighs and lets her head fall to his shoulder. "Or?" she murmurs.
She wakes up early the next morning, sunlight streaming in the window and the unfamiliar smell of his pillow pulling her from slumber.
She sits up, rakes her fingers through her hair. His room has posters on the walls, movie titles on them that she doesn't recognize and one entitled 100 Ways to Know You're a Ninja. Like the rest of his apartment, it's small but kind of cozy. His alarm clock is cheap and the numbers blink at her in red; 9:36.
This might be what it's like, to come from somewhere else, to have New York as a second home rather than a first, to be in charge of no one but yourself, to date boys like this, sweet and goofy and kind, to watch movies instead of wearing couture. Maybe this life is the easy life.
Granted, it's never been the life she's wanted.
Blair wanders into the kitchen, self-conscious of her morning-breath and mussed-up hair and Ryan's baggy t-shirt and his plaid pyjama pants that are so big around her hips that she had to cinch in the drawstring at the waist and then roll them down three times.
The couch has a pillow and a wrinkled blanket on it, but he's not asleep there, he's cooking - noisily - in his tiny kitchen.
"Good morning," she says softly, leaning her elbows on the counter. She convinces herself that bedhead can be sexy.
Ryan gives her that boyish grin. "Hey, you." He slides a plate across the counter: pancakes and orange slices.
Her cheeks burn. "You made me breakfast?" she asks, sceptical. It's not like she put out. They haven't even kissed.
"Most important meal of the day." He seems like a morning person and that's kind of adorable. "I love food."
She laughs a little, cutting a small piece off of one of her pancakes and spearing it with her fork. She sighs. "Of course you do."
Her cell phone rings while they're eating.
(She's stopped caring that she's wearing his pyjamas and is busy throwing grapes for him to catch in his mouth.
Thus far, he's failed every time.)
"Just a second," she says through her laughter, rummaging through her bag. "Hey, S. Can I call you back?"
"Where are you?" Serena sounds especially quiet. "I need to talk to you."
Blair tosses a grape lazily. Ryan catches it. He stands up, arms thrown up in the air victoriously as he chews.
She smiles. "Is everything okay?" she says into the phone as Ryan leans across the counter and gives her an impulsive kiss on the cheek.
She stops breathing for a moment. Serena says softly, again, "Where are you?"
She has to do the walk of shame.
Never, in her life, has Blair Waldorf done something so very cliché and collegiate.
She stares at herself in Ryan's crooked mirror, her pretty red dress and her nice shoes and her barely-brushed hair. It's better than wearing his clothes, but not by much.
"I look ridiculous," she sighs, tugging at the fabric.
Ryan leans against the doorframe, giving her a look she can't quite decipher.
"Nah," he says.
He hails her cab for her. Blair appreciates a little chivalry.
"Can I call you?"
She hesitates. "I'll call you."
"Okay." He looks a little disappointed.
"I will," she insists, and she finds that she just might mean it.
He leans down and kisses her, softly and just for a few seconds.
It doesn't give her butterflies.
Well. Maybe just one.
Nate is sitting on her bed when she gets home, eyes glued to some action movie that he's watching on her tv. Serena is in her bed, nose pressed to Nate's hip, half-asleep.
"You better be clothed," Blair grumbles as she sets her purse down and steps out of her shoes.
Serena's eyes flutter open, she murmurs, "I am." Pushing herself into a sitting position, she adds, "So are you. In last night's clothes."
"Mm-hm."
"Did you have a date?" Nate asks, his blue eyes wide. Serena's expression matches his.
"Maybe," Blair says. Serena lifts the covers and Blair obliges the wordless request, slipping into her bed.
Serena curls toward her instead, her eyes searching. "Do you maybe have another date?"
Blair sighs, rests her forehead against her friend's. "Maybe."
"Sorry I interrupted."
"It's okay, S." Blair notices, then, that Nate is now watching Serena instead of the movie. Frowning, she asks, "What's wrong? You said you needed to talk."
Serena sighs, her cheek pressed against Blair's pillow. "You look happy."
And Blair nods, smiling a little in spite of herself. "I am." She pauses. "But you're not."
Five hours later the girls are in the same position, curled up in Blair's bed. Nate's gone, having made a lame excuse about running errands even though they all knew he was going to check up on Chuck. Blair is picking between Audrey movies when her phone rings, and Serena snatches it up.
"Hello? No, this is her best friend. Mm-hm."
"Give me that - "
Serena waves Blair's reaching hands away. "Oh, hi. Yes, she is right here. I'll give her the phone." She holds out the phone, and in the loudest whisper ever, says, "Blair, it's a boy."
"S, for the love of god," Blair mutters as she grabs her cell, but she can't say anything more because Serena's smiling for what might be the first time all day. "Hello?" she asks, trying to keep her voice measured and calm.
"Hey." She recognizes Ryan's voice instantly.
"Hi." She licks her lips. "I said I'd call you."
"Yeah, I know. I broke the rules."
She smiles down at the movies she's holding. She can definitely work with that.
"So, I had a lot of fun with you last night."
Blair nods even though he can't see her. "I had a nice time, too."
"You, uh…forgot this hair-clippy thing on my dresser."
She laughs and Serena kicks her foot. She kicks back. "Oh, thanks, but I don't actually need that."
"Right, of course." There's a pause, and his voice drops a bit. "I was kind of hoping you did."
"Well, maybe…" She fumbles for something to say. Serena kicks her foot again. She glares and takes a deep breath, offers, "Maybe that can be arranged."
tbc.
Chapter | 1/?
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Blair/Cater-Waiter-Guy
Summary | He doesn't give her butterflies but he gives her...something.
She calls him on a Tuesday morning, lying in bed in her robe.
"It's Blair Waldorf." She doesn't ask remember me? but she supposes that it's implied in her tone.
"Oh, hey." There's a pause, then he says, "Hey," again and she can hear his smile. "Totally hot girl. I remember you."
She holds court in her living room even when he's the only one there, lounging in a chair with her legs crossed demurely at the ankle. She eyes him critically over the edge of her martini glass. He's not drinking but he is checking her out, so she figures that's acceptable.
"Do you know who Chuck Bass is?"
"Bass like the fish?"
He has a nice smile, Blair decides. And a perfect answer.
She laughs and nods. "Sure, like the fish."
"Friday night." It's meant to be a statement but it might sound more like a question.
"You don't have to ask." Her eyes fly to his face and he elaborates, "I already said I'd be thrilled to date you, didn't I?"
Eight-oh-two on a Friday night, he shows up in a button-down shirt and pants that look pretty nice considering they're probably from LL Bean.
Only two minutes late and he blinks at her, says, "Whoa, you look beautiful," and she finds that she likes the way that sounds coming from him even more than totally hot.
She smoothes out her red dress and shakes out her hair, breathes a thank-you as she slinks by him and into the elevator.
"My name's Ryan." He clears his throat and holds the door of their cab open for her. "By the way."
He takes her to an art exhibit.
And she thinks it's going to be horrible, because it reminds her of Aaron Rose and meeting Chuck on a rooftop and a night that ended in tears.
But it's actually kind of nice.
Most of the art is abstract and odd, but Ryan makes fun of it all and makes her laugh. They agree that four of the pieces are actually very nice (he says five, but she shoots him down repeatedly until he finally gives in, telling her teasingly that she's impossible to argue with).
His hand brushes her back, and then his fingers touch hers, and she finds she doesn't mind.
They meet a couple of his friends there, guys in jeans and t-shirts with easy smiles. Blair shakes their hands and at one point she hears one of them hiss dude at Ryan.
(She does not blush. She doesn't.)
It turns out the gallery is only a block away from his apartment, and they hover on the sidewalk for nearly twenty minutes while Ryan eats a piece of overly-greasy pizza and Blair sips water from a plastic bottle.
He's cute. She likes him. Not quite enough to give her butterflies, but enough to give her…something.
"I can take you home," he suggests.
She's not quite sure what to do. She's never really dated before. With Nate it was easier than regular, pedestrian dating, and with Chuck it was infinitely more complicated.
And it's only ten o'clock.
And Ryan's still smiling at her.
"Or?" she asks, and she lifts her chin, tries to sound coy.
He tilts his head. "My building's right there. You want to have some coffee and maybe watch a movie or something?"
She's not sure what that means, out here in the real world with boys she hasn't known since kindergarten.
But she says yes anyway.
The air is cool and the stars are bright and it feels good.
They do drink coffee. And they do watch a movie.
(It's animated and it's called Up and Blair is thoroughly prepared to zone out for most of it, but she actually gets a little teary-eyed in the first ten minutes, and by the time they're one hour in she's laughing and her knee is pressed against Ryan's and his arm is slung over the back of the couch behind her.)
Afterward, the room is dark save for the dim light of the credits on the screen and his fingers are tangled in her hair.
"I can call you a cab," he says, his voice low.
Blair sighs and lets her head fall to his shoulder. "Or?" she murmurs.
She wakes up early the next morning, sunlight streaming in the window and the unfamiliar smell of his pillow pulling her from slumber.
She sits up, rakes her fingers through her hair. His room has posters on the walls, movie titles on them that she doesn't recognize and one entitled 100 Ways to Know You're a Ninja. Like the rest of his apartment, it's small but kind of cozy. His alarm clock is cheap and the numbers blink at her in red; 9:36.
This might be what it's like, to come from somewhere else, to have New York as a second home rather than a first, to be in charge of no one but yourself, to date boys like this, sweet and goofy and kind, to watch movies instead of wearing couture. Maybe this life is the easy life.
Granted, it's never been the life she's wanted.
Blair wanders into the kitchen, self-conscious of her morning-breath and mussed-up hair and Ryan's baggy t-shirt and his plaid pyjama pants that are so big around her hips that she had to cinch in the drawstring at the waist and then roll them down three times.
The couch has a pillow and a wrinkled blanket on it, but he's not asleep there, he's cooking - noisily - in his tiny kitchen.
"Good morning," she says softly, leaning her elbows on the counter. She convinces herself that bedhead can be sexy.
Ryan gives her that boyish grin. "Hey, you." He slides a plate across the counter: pancakes and orange slices.
Her cheeks burn. "You made me breakfast?" she asks, sceptical. It's not like she put out. They haven't even kissed.
"Most important meal of the day." He seems like a morning person and that's kind of adorable. "I love food."
She laughs a little, cutting a small piece off of one of her pancakes and spearing it with her fork. She sighs. "Of course you do."
Her cell phone rings while they're eating.
(She's stopped caring that she's wearing his pyjamas and is busy throwing grapes for him to catch in his mouth.
Thus far, he's failed every time.)
"Just a second," she says through her laughter, rummaging through her bag. "Hey, S. Can I call you back?"
"Where are you?" Serena sounds especially quiet. "I need to talk to you."
Blair tosses a grape lazily. Ryan catches it. He stands up, arms thrown up in the air victoriously as he chews.
She smiles. "Is everything okay?" she says into the phone as Ryan leans across the counter and gives her an impulsive kiss on the cheek.
She stops breathing for a moment. Serena says softly, again, "Where are you?"
She has to do the walk of shame.
Never, in her life, has Blair Waldorf done something so very cliché and collegiate.
She stares at herself in Ryan's crooked mirror, her pretty red dress and her nice shoes and her barely-brushed hair. It's better than wearing his clothes, but not by much.
"I look ridiculous," she sighs, tugging at the fabric.
Ryan leans against the doorframe, giving her a look she can't quite decipher.
"Nah," he says.
He hails her cab for her. Blair appreciates a little chivalry.
"Can I call you?"
She hesitates. "I'll call you."
"Okay." He looks a little disappointed.
"I will," she insists, and she finds that she just might mean it.
He leans down and kisses her, softly and just for a few seconds.
It doesn't give her butterflies.
Well. Maybe just one.
Nate is sitting on her bed when she gets home, eyes glued to some action movie that he's watching on her tv. Serena is in her bed, nose pressed to Nate's hip, half-asleep.
"You better be clothed," Blair grumbles as she sets her purse down and steps out of her shoes.
Serena's eyes flutter open, she murmurs, "I am." Pushing herself into a sitting position, she adds, "So are you. In last night's clothes."
"Mm-hm."
"Did you have a date?" Nate asks, his blue eyes wide. Serena's expression matches his.
"Maybe," Blair says. Serena lifts the covers and Blair obliges the wordless request, slipping into her bed.
Serena curls toward her instead, her eyes searching. "Do you maybe have another date?"
Blair sighs, rests her forehead against her friend's. "Maybe."
"Sorry I interrupted."
"It's okay, S." Blair notices, then, that Nate is now watching Serena instead of the movie. Frowning, she asks, "What's wrong? You said you needed to talk."
Serena sighs, her cheek pressed against Blair's pillow. "You look happy."
And Blair nods, smiling a little in spite of herself. "I am." She pauses. "But you're not."
Five hours later the girls are in the same position, curled up in Blair's bed. Nate's gone, having made a lame excuse about running errands even though they all knew he was going to check up on Chuck. Blair is picking between Audrey movies when her phone rings, and Serena snatches it up.
"Hello? No, this is her best friend. Mm-hm."
"Give me that - "
Serena waves Blair's reaching hands away. "Oh, hi. Yes, she is right here. I'll give her the phone." She holds out the phone, and in the loudest whisper ever, says, "Blair, it's a boy."
"S, for the love of god," Blair mutters as she grabs her cell, but she can't say anything more because Serena's smiling for what might be the first time all day. "Hello?" she asks, trying to keep her voice measured and calm.
"Hey." She recognizes Ryan's voice instantly.
"Hi." She licks her lips. "I said I'd call you."
"Yeah, I know. I broke the rules."
She smiles down at the movies she's holding. She can definitely work with that.
"So, I had a lot of fun with you last night."
Blair nods even though he can't see her. "I had a nice time, too."
"You, uh…forgot this hair-clippy thing on my dresser."
She laughs and Serena kicks her foot. She kicks back. "Oh, thanks, but I don't actually need that."
"Right, of course." There's a pause, and his voice drops a bit. "I was kind of hoping you did."
"Well, maybe…" She fumbles for something to say. Serena kicks her foot again. She glares and takes a deep breath, offers, "Maybe that can be arranged."
tbc.