159. (teach us both how to dance in the forest) fire - chapter one, part one
Title | (teach us both how to dance in the forrest) fire
Chapter | one [part 1]
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Nate, Serena. Also Dan, Blair, Tripp.
Summary | Words on a piece of paper, Serena thinks, forcing herself to smile wider. Those are nothing more than words from a piece of paper, edited by someone else.
Notes | Season one still happened, but I'm only using canon up to 1x18. The title comes from a song by Pat LePoidevin. // For dae_dreemer. Happy Birthday!! This is the fic I generally refer to as President!Nate, and it is basically becoming the longest thing in the world, so this birthday gift will have to be...spread out over some time. Which is good, right? I love to keep birthdays going. I hope this day has been all kinds of awesome and that you enjoy this and all future instalments! ♥♥
September, 2026.
The room is crowded, full of men wearing blue ties and women in dresses to match. It is a preemptive party, nervous energy in the air as waitresses and waiters manuever through the crowd, handing out champagne and hors d'ouevres. She should be proud of how well all of this came together, because she's learned - from Blair, from various party planners - and she's finally really good at all of this, good enough to gain approval from everyone that matters.
She should be proud, but all she can think is that she really, really needs to find her husband.
A hand grasps her elbow lightly. "Serena! "
She stops short, turns to her best friend. "Blair, hi," she breathes, trying to make herself slow down and focus. "You made it!"
Blair shrugs, silky brown hair arranged elegantly around her shoulders. "I couldn't miss this."
"Yes, well," she says, and it's funny, the way these words are automatic, even with her oldest friend, "it isn't guaranteed - "
Blair waves a hand through the air dismissively. "Not the election, this party. S, this is amazing," she says earnestly.
Serena takes a deep breath. "Thank you."
Blair laughs. "Look at you. You're so nervous." Her smile flickers, just for a moment. "Is everything okay?"
She shakes her head, because that's the truth, and deep down she's aware of that: everything is not okay. "Can you...excuse me for a second, okay? I need to find Nate." She reaches out to give Blair a quick hug. "I'm happy you're here."
"Me too," Blair says, squeezing her back before leaning away again and tilting her head slightly, go.
Serena gives her a quick, empty smile and moves away again, toward the front of the room. She finally finds Nate just beside the platform, surrounded by five other men, Tripp at his side. She takes another deep breath and moves toward him, says, "Nate," softly and prays that he'll hear her.
He does, and he beams at her, looking all of fifteen years old, and her heart stutters a beat. "There she is," he says, reaching a hand out toward her. As her hand slips into his, he says quietly, "You look stunning, sweetheart."
"Thank you," she says automatically, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I...I need to talk to you for a moment."
He studies her face for a beat and then nods. "Of course." He smiles at everyone else as he moves toward her, resting a hand lightly against the small of her back. "Excuse us."
"Be back in time to for your victory lap," one of the men calls jovially; Serena doesn't turn around to see who it is.
"Oh, I will," Nate says with a warm laugh, guiding her toward the room's exit. "Are you alright?" he asks softly, his mouth close to her ear.
"Nate..." She stops short now that they've got a little space to themselves, touching a hand to one of his lapels.
"What's going on, baby?" he asks, covering her hand with his own.
She blows out a little breath, her eyes falling closed for a moment - he couldn't have chosen a better word. "I'm pregnant," she says very softly, forcing herself to open her eyes again.
He stares at her for a long, long moment. "What?"
She swallows, repeats, "I'm pregnant."
"You're pregnant," he echoes slowly, his eyes wide, his hand falling back to his side. "And you're telling me now?"
"Nate," she breathes as she pulls her own hand back.
The room explodes into cheers, but his eyes don't leave hers.
Nate's acceptance speech is eloquent and gracious. He is at ease as he speaks to the crowd and the cameras, to the entire nation, his smile never slipping. He is good at what he does.
She stands a couple steps back from him, her own smile affixed to her face, one arm wrapped loosely around her daughter, her other hand wrapped gently around her son's little fingers. The wife and the four sons of the vice presidential candidate stand nearby, wearing similar smiles.
"My shoes are killing me," Zoey says out of the corner of her mouth.
Serena gives her a little squeeze. "I know, honey," she murmurs. "Just a little longer."
"And of course," Nate says, his voice amplified by his microphone, "I have to thank my family." He turns to look at them. "My amazing wife and our wonderful children...I would not be where I am today without you. I love you."
Words on a piece of paper, Serena thinks, forcing herself to smile wider. Those are nothing more than words from a piece of paper, edited by someone else.
But she'd believed them once.
March, 2009.
He's drunk when he comes over.
He's been out with the boys, and she doesn't mind that, never has - his friends on the soccer team are loud and boisterous and she loves them, for the most part. She's had a lot going on this semester, trying to figure out what to make of her future, and she had essays to write. She'd told him to go and have fun without her tonight.
Except now he's here, in her dorm room, his eyes bright blue and his smile soft at the edges. It takes her breath away. He's so young; they're both so young.
"Hey, baby," he says, framing her face with his hands as he leans down to kiss her.
"Hi," she breathes, tilting her chin up, her hands coming up to touch his wrists. He tastes like beer and a touch of tequila.
"I missed you," he mumbles against her mouth. He leans into her and she lets him, falling back onto the bed as he stretches out over her. He pulls back just enough to smile at her, smoothing her hair away from her face tenderly. "You're so beautiful," he says, warm and a little awed.
She touches his cheek, brushes her thumb over his lips. "I need to talk to you," she whispers.
He smiles, nudging another kiss against her mouth. "You make it sound so serious, babe."
"It is serious," she murmurs, pushing a hand against his shoulder lightly.
"Okay." He frowns slightly as he pulls back. "What is it?"
She stares at him for a moment, her eyes searching his. He's drunk and happy and eighteen and she's suddenly so reluctant to take all of that away from him. "I wish it could wait until morning," she whispers. "But...I can't stop thinking about it and I need you to think about it too because I'm..."
He kisses her softly, his fingers tangled in her hair. "Tell me."
She swallows hard, taking shaky breaths. The words get stuck in her throat and her eyes start to sting. "I..."
Nate's expression turns wholly serious. "You're crying," he murmurs, brushing a tear away with the pad of his thumb. "Come on, tell me."
"I'm scared," she whispers, lips trembling.
"Shh..." He kisses the corner of her mouth. "You can tell me anything, baby."
But she can't. She opens her mouth and the only sound that comes out is a mangled, muted sob.
"Serena," he murmurs, a note of concern in his voice. "What is it?" He goes still and quiet for a moment. "Are you breaking up with me?"
"No," she mumbles, choking on air. "I'm pregnant."
There is a long, heavy beat of silence, and then he breathes, "What?"
"I'm pregnant," she whispers again, and she finds herself clutching at one of his shoulders.
He stares at her for another moment and then he slides his arm underneath her so that he can pull her with him as he sits up. His gaze drops to her stomach, like that will clarify things somehow. "You're pregnant," he murmurs.
She sucks in some air. "Yeah."
"But..." He blinks rapidly. "We're careful. And you're on the pill."
She shrugs helplessly. "I don't...I don't know how, but..." She bites her lip, unable to tear her gaze away from his face.
"Are you...are you sure?" he wonders, his brow furrowed.
"Pretty sure," she whispers. "I didn't go to the doctor or anything but I took a test - two tests - and I'm...pretty sure."
"Whoa," he breathes. "Okay. Wow."
"I don't know what to do," she admits tearfully. "I'm freaking out."
"Don't," he says softly. "I mean, that's not - that can't be good for you. You just have to..." He trails off and shakes his head a little. "We can figure it out."
"How?" she demands. "We're not even nineteen yet. My mom will kill me."
"I - I don't know, but we will. We'll figure it out, okay?"
She shakes her head, looking down. "You're drunk."
"I mean it," he says firmly. "We can figure out what to do."
She shakes her head again, lips pressed tight together.
"Serena," he sighs. "I don't know what to say right at this second. I'm freaked out, too. This is...it's fucking huge, but..." He shrugs a little and reaches his hand out tentatively to touch her belly.
Her hand goes to his automatically, clutching it a little, holding it to her. She doesn't look up. "I thought...that maybe I should get an abortion," she says quietly.
"You thought?" Nate asks just as quietly, tilting his head, trying to look into her face. "Or you want?"
The dam breaks and she bursts into tears. "This isn't how - " She takes a sharp breath. "It wasn't supposed to go like this."
"I know," he murmurs, pulling her closer. "I know." He tugs her into his lap, tucks her face against his neck. "Shh."
She clutches a handful of his shirt. "We have a baby," she mumbles through half-sobs. "How can we have a baby?"
He rocks her a little, his hand smoothing up and down her back. "Because I love you," he tells her, his mouth by her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "That counts for something, right?"
She nods slightly.
"And you love me," he murmurs. "That counts for something."
"But - "
He talks over her, "And we're going to love our kids, whether we have them now or in ten years." He kisses the shell of her ear. "That should count for something, too."
"We're eighteen," she whispers emphatically. "How can you be ready for a baby?"
"I'm not ready for a baby," he says softly, his hand still rubbing her back soothingly. "But maybe I could be ready for our baby."
She exhales slowly, sniffling against him. "Yeah?" she whispers.
"Yeah." He kisses her forehead. "Could you?"
Serena is quiet for a long time. It's the most important question that's ever been posed to her in her eighteen years of life, and it needs to be given thought. Nate is quiet, just waiting for her, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
"Yeah," she finally murmurs, eyes closed. "Yeah."
And that's that.
September, 2026.
"Mommy..." Her son's voice is too muted and tired to turn into a full-fledged whine.
She crouches down in front of him, smiling softly. "What's up, Teddy Bear?"
"Don't call me that," he grumbles, sliding his arms around her neck.
She closes her eyes for a moment, lifting a hand to cup the back of his head, his soft blonde hair slipping through her fingers. "Sorry, handsome. What would you like me to call you?"
"Theo," he says quietly, a drowsy note in his voice.
"Okay," she agrees, pressing a kiss against his little cheek before she stands up slowly, scooping him up into her arms. "We'll find your sister and then we'll get you home. I know it's been a long night," she murmurs to him.
"Hey there," Blair says softly as she approaches them. She rubs softly at Theodore's back. "Getting pretty tired, hm?"
Serena pulls up a smile for her. "You have no idea."
Blair's expression stays the same but there's a flicker of worry in her eyes. "I can take him," she offers.
Serena shakes her head slightly, leaning her cheek against her son's hair. "It's okay. I'm just going to find Zo and then we can go home..." She exhales slowly. "Did you bring Eli?"
"No, he's with his father."
Serena has to actively resist the temptation to roll her eyes. "His father has a name."
"A name you already know," Blair says smoothly, "so there's no reason to mention it."
Serena gives in and rolls her eyes, but says nothing more on the subject. "How long are you in the States?"
"I've taken a week and a half off. Will you have time for me?" Blair asks, light and teasing.
"Of course. Let's do brunch on the weekend." She rubs Theo's back as she thinks. "And...Wednesday afternoon, I don't have anything scheduled, so..."
"Call me, honey," Blair says easily. "Just go home now. You look tired."
"Alright." Serena sighs. "Yeah. I'll call you." She glances around. "If you see my daughter..."
"I'll send her to you." Blair leans in and presses a kiss to Serena's cheek, touching Theo's hair lightly before she moves away.
Theo is practically asleep by the time they get home; Serena steers him into his bedroom and gets him into his pyjamas, not bothering to insist on toothbrushing before she tucks him into his bed, running her fingers lightly through his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"Bedtime, Zo," she says firmly from the top of the stairs, looking down at where her daughter is busily texting on her phone in the foyer.
Zoey glances up at her with guileless blue eyes. "Daddy's not even home yet."
"He won't be for a while, baby. He's a busy guy," she says as lightly as she can.
"You should let me stay up. My feet really hurt from those shoes - I shouldn't have to go to school tomorrow."
"Uh-huh," Serena murmurs, smiling softly. "I seem to remember a midterm test tomorrow?"
Zoey rolls her eyes. "It's just chem," she says dismissively. "Mr. Ryan will totally let me take it on Friday."
"Bed," Serena repeats. "Now."
"You can't send me to bed, I'm practically an adult, it's completely unfair - "
"Adults don't complain about how much their heels hurt," Serena interrupts her. "So get your butt to bed."
She sighs dramatically, "Mom."
Serena gives her a warning look. "Zoey Cecelia," she begins, eyebrows raised.
"Ugh, fine," Zoey grumbles, starting up the stairs. "No need to break out the middle name, jeez."
Serena bites back laughter, watching her daughter move down the hall. "Goodnight, sweetie."
"Night, Mom."
Zoey's door slams shut and Serena feels her smile fade slowly. She slips out of her own shoes, one hand against the wall for balance, and then touches her other hand to her stomach. Zoey still feels like her baby, but she was only a year older than her daughter is when she got pregnant the first time. It's an odd thought, and it makes her feel a lot of complicated things, but most of all, she feels…old.
She moves down the hall and up the little staircase into the part of the house Zoey long-ago dubbed the parental wing. The French doors open into a small sitting room, off of which Nate has a home office space, and past the sitting room are the master bedroom and its en suite bathroom and walk-in closet. Serena goes to the closet automatically, setting her shoes down before peeling off her pantyhose and tugging down the zipper of her dress. She shimmies out of her dress and kicks it off as she carefully takes off her earrings and sets them down with the rest of her jewellery.
She gathers up a pair of Nate's sweatpants and a camisole to wear to bed, but she hesitates before she gets dressed, studying herself in the mirror. She doesn't look all that different than she did seventeen years ago, not really - she's not even middle-aged yet. The changes are subtle: tiny lines at the corners of her eyes, curvier hips from carrying two babies, more defined calf muscles from years of running around in six-inch heels. She still wears her hair fairly long, just past her shoulders, though she keeps it up most of the time.
Laying a palm flat against her belly, she meets her eyes in the mirror. She's not too old to be having a baby. There had been discussions after Theo had come, around the possibility of another child, maybe even two, but their family had felt complete, mother and father, son and daughter. And there had been Nate's work, of course. There was always Nate's work to consider.
She slams her hand against the dimmer switch as the leaves the closet, turning the lights off abruptly, and slips into the sweats and camisole on her way to bed. She has no idea what time Nate will be home and she's not even totally sure that she cares at this point.
Zoey had been a surprise - a mistake, if she's going to be honest about it. They were teenagers, young and flighty and entirely unprepared. She hadn't even wanted a baby then, hadn't been prepared, hadn't the slightest clue how they were going to manage.
But Nate had. Nate had wanted Zoey before she was even Zoey; he'd wanted the peanut-sized being inside of her. He'd loved Zoey right off the bat, just because he loved Serena, because Zoey was a part of them both.
She throws the decorative pillows to the floor and crawls under the comforter to sleep. He'd been sure, back then, when they were kids themselves, yet he's not sure now, when they're in their mid-thirties and already parents, settled and successful.
It scares her to think that it might be because he doesn't love her now like he did then.
June, 2011.
"We're married…"
Those are the works Serena wakes up too, and she smiles slowly, feeling Nate's lips press a kiss to her bare shoulder.
"We are?" she asks teasingly, sleepily, shifting onto her back so that she can see into his face. She squints a little when the sun gets in her eyes.
He kisses the tip of her nose. "Yeah, babe. I think you were there…"
She giggles, tilting her chin up for a kiss. His mouth meets hers in a soft, sweet kiss as he pulls one of the blankets up over her gently.
"Yesterday was perfect," she whispers against his mouth. "Last night was perfect…" She presses into the kiss for a moment. "And today's…perfect."
Nate grins, pulling back slightly. "You're perfect."
She laughs softly, leaning in for another kiss.
But he shakes his head a bit, touching his forehead to hers. "I mean it," he says quietly, seriously. "Perfect…"
"Natie, no I'm not," she says in the same quiet tone, meeting his gaze.
He shrugs. "You are to me."
"Baby, I'm already married to you, you don't have to - "
He silences her with a kiss. "And you're already a horrible listener," he mumbles teasingly into her mouth.
She laughs, smiling wide enough that it breaks the kiss. "Maybe you're going to have to nag me," she teases back.
Nate laughs, too, tracing her smile with his thumb. "I mean it," he tells her again.
Her smile softens by several degrees. "I love you," she tells him in response.
They're both quiet for a long moment, just looking at each other, reveling in the sunrise and the silence and the fact that they've solidified this - it's them, together, forever.
Several moments later, she throws back all the blankets and flashes him a mischievous smile, leaping to her feet and darting toward the water for an early-morning skinny dip. "I'm going to beat you!" she yells over her shoulder to him.
Laughing, he jumps up too. "I didn't know we were racing!" he protests, gearing up to give chase.
The wind destroys what remained of her wedding updo entirely, and the water is cold on her skin, but none of that matters much at all, because Nate follows her, like he always has.
September, 2026.
She wakes up to a bouquet of flowers (lilies, her favourite) with a note attached. Morning, sweetheart, it says. Meet me for dinner at 7? I'm sorry about yesterday.
He calls her babe most of the time - sweetheart is reserved for moments when he's feeling particularly enamoured with her or he knows he's in trouble. She frowns slightly, not sure what he means by it now, not sure if she's reading too much into three scribbled lines on a card from the florist.
"It's morning!" a little voice giggles as the door swings open, and a beat later Theo's jumping onto the bed. "Mommy, it's - " He goes still, looking at the other side of the bed. "Mommy, where's Daddy?"
Serena reaches out to pull him into a hug. "Daddy's the president now, baby, remember?" she asks as she cuddles him close to her. "Presidents have to work extra early," she adds, making a silly face at him.
"Oh," he says, giggling again. "Can we have pancakes before school?"
She nods. "Sure, I think we have time."
"Chocolate chip?" he asks eagerly, his eyes on her face.
She touches his cheek tenderly; can't help thinking how much he looks like his father. "Chocolate chip if you go get your sister up."
He giggles brightly. "Zoey hates when I wake her up," he says a little gleefully before smacking a kiss against Serena's cheek and hopping off the bed, rushing out of the room again.
"Do it nicely, Theo," Serena calls after him. She sits up carefully, nauseated, bile rising to her throat - there's no question about it now, she's pregnant; she was sick like this with both of her kids. She sighs, throwing back the blankets. Zoey will take at least fifteen minutes to get out of bed, which means that she has that long to get her nausea under control.
Blair comes at six thirty, partially because she wants to spend time with the children and partially because it's an easy way for Serena to avoid Zoey's angry protests over being too old for a babysitter. She hugs Blair quickly and calls to the kids to let them know their aunt's arrived before she grabs her coat and slips on her shoes, heading for her waiting car.
The restaurant Nate picked is her favourite. The hostess greets her by name, smiling widely when she calls Serena First Lady, and guides her to the table in the back right-hand corner, semi-private and tucked away under soft, twinkling lights.
Nate pockets his phone and stands to greet her, brushing a kiss against her cheek. "Hey, you," he says as he pulls back.
She sits down in her chair on the other side of the table, replies softly, "Hey." She touches her hair. "You must have had a long day."
"Yeah." He flashes her a brief grin, as sweet as it's always been. "It's been crazy."
"I didn't congratulate you on your win," she says flatly.
His smile slips, fades. "Serena, come on - "
"Don't Serena, come on me," she says snappish but quiet, reaching for her glass of water and taking a sip. "You'd rather I congratulate you on your victory than on the impending arrival of your child, wouldn't you?"
Nate's expression hardens very slightly. "You told me at the worst possible moment - "
"Or the best possible moment," she retorts, cutting him off. "But thank you for making it clear how you feel about this."
He reaches across the table to take her hand, and she allows him to hold her fingers loosely. "I'm not looking to fight, babe, okay? I'm sorry. I just want to talk about all of this."
The waiter appears then, offering Nate his congratulations before he asks for their order. They both smile at him, polite and sincere, before naming the dishes they want. Their smiles dim the moment he turns away.
"How far along are you?" Nate asks softly.
She feels herself unwind a little, her hand relaxing in his at the sound of his quiet voice. "Almost sixteen weeks," she answers softly.
His eyes go wide. "You're four months - " He glances around, doesn't finish his sentence. "You're not even showing."
"I am, a little," she says quietly. "It's not like you've had a lot of time to look at me lately. And you'd be amazed at what an empire waist can hide in a dress."
Nate's gaze drops to her abdomen. "But…you just found it."
"I know things have been crazy for you," she says as calmly as she can. "But they've been crazy for me, too. Theo just started first grade and Zoey's seventeen and all of these parties and events and dinners - I've been working my ass off too. I wasn't paying that much attention; the nausea could've been nerves or wine or anything, stress can cause missed periods…" She trails off and shrugs. "I just noticed, really."
He nods slowly. "I know we've both had a lot on our minds, but…" His jaw works a little. "You want to have this baby?"
She sets her water glass down heavily, droplets splashing onto the pristine tablecloth. "It's a question now?" she asks incredulously.
There's a tiny flinch in his eyes but he doesn't back down. "We're not getting any younger."
"Bullshit, Nate," she hisses across the table. "We're thirty-five, not sixty."
"You just said it yourself, Serena - our lives are hectic enough as it is."
"So you want me to get an abortion so you can clear your schedule?" she demands in a hushed voice, too stunned to do anything but stare at him.
"Don't put words into my mouth. I was talking to Clara - "
Serena takes a sharp breath. "You talked to your PR people before you talked to me? Are you serious?"
"I am thirty five years old," he says tersely. "I'm just months into the cut-off to run for president, never mind win. People have doubts and I can't play into them."
"And what the hell did Clara mean when she told you to say that?"
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his hair, an old habit. "It doesn't…look good, okay. I say I can run this country, be a major player in the world, but my wife and I can't even handle birth control? If we'd known earlier, it would be different, but - "
"Are you blaming me?" she whispers. "Are you actually blaming me for not realizing sooner? Newsflash, Mr. President; I didn't impregnate myself. You're the one with the sperm."
"I'm not, I'm not blaming you, I'm just saying that it…it's complicated."
She pushes her chair back from the table. "Excuse me if I put our child above your political career."
He looks startled. "You're leaving?"
"Yes, I'm leaving. I can't even look at you right now."
"Serena - hey, sweetheart, hang on a minute - "
She shakes her head, slipping her coat back on. "I'm going to say this once, so listen carefully. Yes, the answer is yes - I want to have this baby and I'm going to have this baby. If you're so worried about your career I suggest you understand and support that decision now or you're going to have a divorce on your hands, and you and Clara can have fun trying to deal with the public reaction to that."
Nate doesn't jump up, doesn't try to stop her; they can't cause a scene. She cries in the car all the way home.
"Oh, sweetie," Blair breathes when Serena walks into the living room. "What happened? What's wrong?"
She touches her cheek, sighing. "I tried to fix my make-up," she murmurs. "Where are the kids?"
"Theodore's in bed. He was falling asleep in front of the tv. And Zoey's in her room…on the phone with a boy, I believe," Blair says, one of her eyebrows tilting up.
Serena's lips twist into a half-smile. "Did you spy on my daughter?"
Blair shrugs, reaching for Serena's hand and tugging her into the living room. "Come in here and sit down with me, tell me why you've been crying."
She slumps into the corner of the couch, says quietly, "I'm pregnant."
Blair tilts her head slightly. "And that's not good news?"
"No." Serena blows out her breath. "Nate doesn't think so."
"What?" Blair frowns. "That doesn't make any sense - he was over the moon about Theodore, even about Zoey."
"This baby is inconvenient to the reputation he's trying to create," Serena says flatly, pressing a hand lightly to her belly. "Apparently us finding out so late makes us look irresponsible - and apparently it's my fault."
"Finding out so late? How many weeks are you?"
"Sixteen," she sighs.
"Wow…four months."
"It's just been so busy, B, you know? The last thing I was thinking about was whether or not my period was on time, and getting a moment of privacy with Nate was so rare anyway - it's not like we've had a lot of time for sex lately."
"Enough time to make a baby, though," Blair murmurs. "S, I'm sure deep down he's so happy about this. I know Nate, you know Nate. We both know how much he loves your kids, how much he's loved them from the moment you told him about them."
"He basically asked me to get an abortion," Serena says quietly. "It's so…everything's so different, especially since the election race began. He hardly feels like my husband anymore."
Blair studies her face. "What did you say? When he asked you that."
Serena rubs at one of her eyes. "I threatened to divorce him," she mumbles.
"Oh, S…"
"I love this baby," Serena shrugs. "Even if things are messy right now, I love this baby and a big part of that is…because I love Nate. So if he doesn't feel the same way…"
Blair reaches over and tucks Serena's hair behind her ear gently. "You're going to get through this. Couples have rough patches, sweetie. I know you and Nate haven't had many, but believe me, you're an exception to the rule. This is just a big fight to make up for all the little ones you should've had. Five months from now, when you have my new niece or nephew…you'll be as happy as you were when Theo came, I know it."
Serena looks into her face wearily. "What if we aren't?"
"Then we get the very best divorce lawyer," Blair says calmly. "And we kick his ass."
Serena half-smiles. "B…"
"I love Nate," Blair shrugs. "But I'm in your corner. Always. You know that."
"Yeah." Serena sighs, leaning into Blair's shoulder. "And I'm in yours."
It's late when Nate comes home and to bed, somewhere around three o'clock in the morning.
He kisses her cheek as he gets into bed next to her. "Hey…I'm on board, okay? I want what you want."
"D'you meant it or are you just saying it?" she asks drowsily, eyes half-open.
"I mean it, baby," he says tenderly, wrapping an arm around her. "I always mean it."
There's a part of her that wants to roll away, to punish him, but the part of her that wants to be held wins out and she relaxes against him, nods a little and allows him to kiss her softly.
Nate kisses her mouth, her chin, and then trails his mouth down her neck, sucking and nipping at her skin occasionally. His mouth goes to the hollow of her throat, to the valley of her breasts, before it settles on her stomach, pressing a reverent kiss there. He perches his chin gently over her bellybutton as he peers up at her.
She brushes her fingers lightly through his hair, looking back at him. "We're not okay," she says quietly.
He nods, accepting that, and she falls back asleep to the feel of his mouth against her belly.
on to part two.
Chapter | one [part 1]
Rating | pg-13
Characters | Nate, Serena. Also Dan, Blair, Tripp.
Summary | Words on a piece of paper, Serena thinks, forcing herself to smile wider. Those are nothing more than words from a piece of paper, edited by someone else.
Notes | Season one still happened, but I'm only using canon up to 1x18. The title comes from a song by Pat LePoidevin. // For dae_dreemer. Happy Birthday!! This is the fic I generally refer to as President!Nate, and it is basically becoming the longest thing in the world, so this birthday gift will have to be...spread out over some time. Which is good, right? I love to keep birthdays going. I hope this day has been all kinds of awesome and that you enjoy this and all future instalments! ♥♥
September, 2026.
The room is crowded, full of men wearing blue ties and women in dresses to match. It is a preemptive party, nervous energy in the air as waitresses and waiters manuever through the crowd, handing out champagne and hors d'ouevres. She should be proud of how well all of this came together, because she's learned - from Blair, from various party planners - and she's finally really good at all of this, good enough to gain approval from everyone that matters.
She should be proud, but all she can think is that she really, really needs to find her husband.
A hand grasps her elbow lightly. "Serena! "
She stops short, turns to her best friend. "Blair, hi," she breathes, trying to make herself slow down and focus. "You made it!"
Blair shrugs, silky brown hair arranged elegantly around her shoulders. "I couldn't miss this."
"Yes, well," she says, and it's funny, the way these words are automatic, even with her oldest friend, "it isn't guaranteed - "
Blair waves a hand through the air dismissively. "Not the election, this party. S, this is amazing," she says earnestly.
Serena takes a deep breath. "Thank you."
Blair laughs. "Look at you. You're so nervous." Her smile flickers, just for a moment. "Is everything okay?"
She shakes her head, because that's the truth, and deep down she's aware of that: everything is not okay. "Can you...excuse me for a second, okay? I need to find Nate." She reaches out to give Blair a quick hug. "I'm happy you're here."
"Me too," Blair says, squeezing her back before leaning away again and tilting her head slightly, go.
Serena gives her a quick, empty smile and moves away again, toward the front of the room. She finally finds Nate just beside the platform, surrounded by five other men, Tripp at his side. She takes another deep breath and moves toward him, says, "Nate," softly and prays that he'll hear her.
He does, and he beams at her, looking all of fifteen years old, and her heart stutters a beat. "There she is," he says, reaching a hand out toward her. As her hand slips into his, he says quietly, "You look stunning, sweetheart."
"Thank you," she says automatically, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I...I need to talk to you for a moment."
He studies her face for a beat and then nods. "Of course." He smiles at everyone else as he moves toward her, resting a hand lightly against the small of her back. "Excuse us."
"Be back in time to for your victory lap," one of the men calls jovially; Serena doesn't turn around to see who it is.
"Oh, I will," Nate says with a warm laugh, guiding her toward the room's exit. "Are you alright?" he asks softly, his mouth close to her ear.
"Nate..." She stops short now that they've got a little space to themselves, touching a hand to one of his lapels.
"What's going on, baby?" he asks, covering her hand with his own.
She blows out a little breath, her eyes falling closed for a moment - he couldn't have chosen a better word. "I'm pregnant," she says very softly, forcing herself to open her eyes again.
He stares at her for a long, long moment. "What?"
She swallows, repeats, "I'm pregnant."
"You're pregnant," he echoes slowly, his eyes wide, his hand falling back to his side. "And you're telling me now?"
"Nate," she breathes as she pulls her own hand back.
The room explodes into cheers, but his eyes don't leave hers.
Nate's acceptance speech is eloquent and gracious. He is at ease as he speaks to the crowd and the cameras, to the entire nation, his smile never slipping. He is good at what he does.
She stands a couple steps back from him, her own smile affixed to her face, one arm wrapped loosely around her daughter, her other hand wrapped gently around her son's little fingers. The wife and the four sons of the vice presidential candidate stand nearby, wearing similar smiles.
"My shoes are killing me," Zoey says out of the corner of her mouth.
Serena gives her a little squeeze. "I know, honey," she murmurs. "Just a little longer."
"And of course," Nate says, his voice amplified by his microphone, "I have to thank my family." He turns to look at them. "My amazing wife and our wonderful children...I would not be where I am today without you. I love you."
Words on a piece of paper, Serena thinks, forcing herself to smile wider. Those are nothing more than words from a piece of paper, edited by someone else.
But she'd believed them once.
March, 2009.
He's drunk when he comes over.
He's been out with the boys, and she doesn't mind that, never has - his friends on the soccer team are loud and boisterous and she loves them, for the most part. She's had a lot going on this semester, trying to figure out what to make of her future, and she had essays to write. She'd told him to go and have fun without her tonight.
Except now he's here, in her dorm room, his eyes bright blue and his smile soft at the edges. It takes her breath away. He's so young; they're both so young.
"Hey, baby," he says, framing her face with his hands as he leans down to kiss her.
"Hi," she breathes, tilting her chin up, her hands coming up to touch his wrists. He tastes like beer and a touch of tequila.
"I missed you," he mumbles against her mouth. He leans into her and she lets him, falling back onto the bed as he stretches out over her. He pulls back just enough to smile at her, smoothing her hair away from her face tenderly. "You're so beautiful," he says, warm and a little awed.
She touches his cheek, brushes her thumb over his lips. "I need to talk to you," she whispers.
He smiles, nudging another kiss against her mouth. "You make it sound so serious, babe."
"It is serious," she murmurs, pushing a hand against his shoulder lightly.
"Okay." He frowns slightly as he pulls back. "What is it?"
She stares at him for a moment, her eyes searching his. He's drunk and happy and eighteen and she's suddenly so reluctant to take all of that away from him. "I wish it could wait until morning," she whispers. "But...I can't stop thinking about it and I need you to think about it too because I'm..."
He kisses her softly, his fingers tangled in her hair. "Tell me."
She swallows hard, taking shaky breaths. The words get stuck in her throat and her eyes start to sting. "I..."
Nate's expression turns wholly serious. "You're crying," he murmurs, brushing a tear away with the pad of his thumb. "Come on, tell me."
"I'm scared," she whispers, lips trembling.
"Shh..." He kisses the corner of her mouth. "You can tell me anything, baby."
But she can't. She opens her mouth and the only sound that comes out is a mangled, muted sob.
"Serena," he murmurs, a note of concern in his voice. "What is it?" He goes still and quiet for a moment. "Are you breaking up with me?"
"No," she mumbles, choking on air. "I'm pregnant."
There is a long, heavy beat of silence, and then he breathes, "What?"
"I'm pregnant," she whispers again, and she finds herself clutching at one of his shoulders.
He stares at her for another moment and then he slides his arm underneath her so that he can pull her with him as he sits up. His gaze drops to her stomach, like that will clarify things somehow. "You're pregnant," he murmurs.
She sucks in some air. "Yeah."
"But..." He blinks rapidly. "We're careful. And you're on the pill."
She shrugs helplessly. "I don't...I don't know how, but..." She bites her lip, unable to tear her gaze away from his face.
"Are you...are you sure?" he wonders, his brow furrowed.
"Pretty sure," she whispers. "I didn't go to the doctor or anything but I took a test - two tests - and I'm...pretty sure."
"Whoa," he breathes. "Okay. Wow."
"I don't know what to do," she admits tearfully. "I'm freaking out."
"Don't," he says softly. "I mean, that's not - that can't be good for you. You just have to..." He trails off and shakes his head a little. "We can figure it out."
"How?" she demands. "We're not even nineteen yet. My mom will kill me."
"I - I don't know, but we will. We'll figure it out, okay?"
She shakes her head, looking down. "You're drunk."
"I mean it," he says firmly. "We can figure out what to do."
She shakes her head again, lips pressed tight together.
"Serena," he sighs. "I don't know what to say right at this second. I'm freaked out, too. This is...it's fucking huge, but..." He shrugs a little and reaches his hand out tentatively to touch her belly.
Her hand goes to his automatically, clutching it a little, holding it to her. She doesn't look up. "I thought...that maybe I should get an abortion," she says quietly.
"You thought?" Nate asks just as quietly, tilting his head, trying to look into her face. "Or you want?"
The dam breaks and she bursts into tears. "This isn't how - " She takes a sharp breath. "It wasn't supposed to go like this."
"I know," he murmurs, pulling her closer. "I know." He tugs her into his lap, tucks her face against his neck. "Shh."
She clutches a handful of his shirt. "We have a baby," she mumbles through half-sobs. "How can we have a baby?"
He rocks her a little, his hand smoothing up and down her back. "Because I love you," he tells her, his mouth by her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "That counts for something, right?"
She nods slightly.
"And you love me," he murmurs. "That counts for something."
"But - "
He talks over her, "And we're going to love our kids, whether we have them now or in ten years." He kisses the shell of her ear. "That should count for something, too."
"We're eighteen," she whispers emphatically. "How can you be ready for a baby?"
"I'm not ready for a baby," he says softly, his hand still rubbing her back soothingly. "But maybe I could be ready for our baby."
She exhales slowly, sniffling against him. "Yeah?" she whispers.
"Yeah." He kisses her forehead. "Could you?"
Serena is quiet for a long time. It's the most important question that's ever been posed to her in her eighteen years of life, and it needs to be given thought. Nate is quiet, just waiting for her, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
"Yeah," she finally murmurs, eyes closed. "Yeah."
And that's that.
September, 2026.
"Mommy..." Her son's voice is too muted and tired to turn into a full-fledged whine.
She crouches down in front of him, smiling softly. "What's up, Teddy Bear?"
"Don't call me that," he grumbles, sliding his arms around her neck.
She closes her eyes for a moment, lifting a hand to cup the back of his head, his soft blonde hair slipping through her fingers. "Sorry, handsome. What would you like me to call you?"
"Theo," he says quietly, a drowsy note in his voice.
"Okay," she agrees, pressing a kiss against his little cheek before she stands up slowly, scooping him up into her arms. "We'll find your sister and then we'll get you home. I know it's been a long night," she murmurs to him.
"Hey there," Blair says softly as she approaches them. She rubs softly at Theodore's back. "Getting pretty tired, hm?"
Serena pulls up a smile for her. "You have no idea."
Blair's expression stays the same but there's a flicker of worry in her eyes. "I can take him," she offers.
Serena shakes her head slightly, leaning her cheek against her son's hair. "It's okay. I'm just going to find Zo and then we can go home..." She exhales slowly. "Did you bring Eli?"
"No, he's with his father."
Serena has to actively resist the temptation to roll her eyes. "His father has a name."
"A name you already know," Blair says smoothly, "so there's no reason to mention it."
Serena gives in and rolls her eyes, but says nothing more on the subject. "How long are you in the States?"
"I've taken a week and a half off. Will you have time for me?" Blair asks, light and teasing.
"Of course. Let's do brunch on the weekend." She rubs Theo's back as she thinks. "And...Wednesday afternoon, I don't have anything scheduled, so..."
"Call me, honey," Blair says easily. "Just go home now. You look tired."
"Alright." Serena sighs. "Yeah. I'll call you." She glances around. "If you see my daughter..."
"I'll send her to you." Blair leans in and presses a kiss to Serena's cheek, touching Theo's hair lightly before she moves away.
Theo is practically asleep by the time they get home; Serena steers him into his bedroom and gets him into his pyjamas, not bothering to insist on toothbrushing before she tucks him into his bed, running her fingers lightly through his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"Bedtime, Zo," she says firmly from the top of the stairs, looking down at where her daughter is busily texting on her phone in the foyer.
Zoey glances up at her with guileless blue eyes. "Daddy's not even home yet."
"He won't be for a while, baby. He's a busy guy," she says as lightly as she can.
"You should let me stay up. My feet really hurt from those shoes - I shouldn't have to go to school tomorrow."
"Uh-huh," Serena murmurs, smiling softly. "I seem to remember a midterm test tomorrow?"
Zoey rolls her eyes. "It's just chem," she says dismissively. "Mr. Ryan will totally let me take it on Friday."
"Bed," Serena repeats. "Now."
"You can't send me to bed, I'm practically an adult, it's completely unfair - "
"Adults don't complain about how much their heels hurt," Serena interrupts her. "So get your butt to bed."
She sighs dramatically, "Mom."
Serena gives her a warning look. "Zoey Cecelia," she begins, eyebrows raised.
"Ugh, fine," Zoey grumbles, starting up the stairs. "No need to break out the middle name, jeez."
Serena bites back laughter, watching her daughter move down the hall. "Goodnight, sweetie."
"Night, Mom."
Zoey's door slams shut and Serena feels her smile fade slowly. She slips out of her own shoes, one hand against the wall for balance, and then touches her other hand to her stomach. Zoey still feels like her baby, but she was only a year older than her daughter is when she got pregnant the first time. It's an odd thought, and it makes her feel a lot of complicated things, but most of all, she feels…old.
She moves down the hall and up the little staircase into the part of the house Zoey long-ago dubbed the parental wing. The French doors open into a small sitting room, off of which Nate has a home office space, and past the sitting room are the master bedroom and its en suite bathroom and walk-in closet. Serena goes to the closet automatically, setting her shoes down before peeling off her pantyhose and tugging down the zipper of her dress. She shimmies out of her dress and kicks it off as she carefully takes off her earrings and sets them down with the rest of her jewellery.
She gathers up a pair of Nate's sweatpants and a camisole to wear to bed, but she hesitates before she gets dressed, studying herself in the mirror. She doesn't look all that different than she did seventeen years ago, not really - she's not even middle-aged yet. The changes are subtle: tiny lines at the corners of her eyes, curvier hips from carrying two babies, more defined calf muscles from years of running around in six-inch heels. She still wears her hair fairly long, just past her shoulders, though she keeps it up most of the time.
Laying a palm flat against her belly, she meets her eyes in the mirror. She's not too old to be having a baby. There had been discussions after Theo had come, around the possibility of another child, maybe even two, but their family had felt complete, mother and father, son and daughter. And there had been Nate's work, of course. There was always Nate's work to consider.
She slams her hand against the dimmer switch as the leaves the closet, turning the lights off abruptly, and slips into the sweats and camisole on her way to bed. She has no idea what time Nate will be home and she's not even totally sure that she cares at this point.
Zoey had been a surprise - a mistake, if she's going to be honest about it. They were teenagers, young and flighty and entirely unprepared. She hadn't even wanted a baby then, hadn't been prepared, hadn't the slightest clue how they were going to manage.
But Nate had. Nate had wanted Zoey before she was even Zoey; he'd wanted the peanut-sized being inside of her. He'd loved Zoey right off the bat, just because he loved Serena, because Zoey was a part of them both.
She throws the decorative pillows to the floor and crawls under the comforter to sleep. He'd been sure, back then, when they were kids themselves, yet he's not sure now, when they're in their mid-thirties and already parents, settled and successful.
It scares her to think that it might be because he doesn't love her now like he did then.
June, 2011.
"We're married…"
Those are the works Serena wakes up too, and she smiles slowly, feeling Nate's lips press a kiss to her bare shoulder.
"We are?" she asks teasingly, sleepily, shifting onto her back so that she can see into his face. She squints a little when the sun gets in her eyes.
He kisses the tip of her nose. "Yeah, babe. I think you were there…"
She giggles, tilting her chin up for a kiss. His mouth meets hers in a soft, sweet kiss as he pulls one of the blankets up over her gently.
"Yesterday was perfect," she whispers against his mouth. "Last night was perfect…" She presses into the kiss for a moment. "And today's…perfect."
Nate grins, pulling back slightly. "You're perfect."
She laughs softly, leaning in for another kiss.
But he shakes his head a bit, touching his forehead to hers. "I mean it," he says quietly, seriously. "Perfect…"
"Natie, no I'm not," she says in the same quiet tone, meeting his gaze.
He shrugs. "You are to me."
"Baby, I'm already married to you, you don't have to - "
He silences her with a kiss. "And you're already a horrible listener," he mumbles teasingly into her mouth.
She laughs, smiling wide enough that it breaks the kiss. "Maybe you're going to have to nag me," she teases back.
Nate laughs, too, tracing her smile with his thumb. "I mean it," he tells her again.
Her smile softens by several degrees. "I love you," she tells him in response.
They're both quiet for a long moment, just looking at each other, reveling in the sunrise and the silence and the fact that they've solidified this - it's them, together, forever.
Several moments later, she throws back all the blankets and flashes him a mischievous smile, leaping to her feet and darting toward the water for an early-morning skinny dip. "I'm going to beat you!" she yells over her shoulder to him.
Laughing, he jumps up too. "I didn't know we were racing!" he protests, gearing up to give chase.
The wind destroys what remained of her wedding updo entirely, and the water is cold on her skin, but none of that matters much at all, because Nate follows her, like he always has.
September, 2026.
She wakes up to a bouquet of flowers (lilies, her favourite) with a note attached. Morning, sweetheart, it says. Meet me for dinner at 7? I'm sorry about yesterday.
He calls her babe most of the time - sweetheart is reserved for moments when he's feeling particularly enamoured with her or he knows he's in trouble. She frowns slightly, not sure what he means by it now, not sure if she's reading too much into three scribbled lines on a card from the florist.
"It's morning!" a little voice giggles as the door swings open, and a beat later Theo's jumping onto the bed. "Mommy, it's - " He goes still, looking at the other side of the bed. "Mommy, where's Daddy?"
Serena reaches out to pull him into a hug. "Daddy's the president now, baby, remember?" she asks as she cuddles him close to her. "Presidents have to work extra early," she adds, making a silly face at him.
"Oh," he says, giggling again. "Can we have pancakes before school?"
She nods. "Sure, I think we have time."
"Chocolate chip?" he asks eagerly, his eyes on her face.
She touches his cheek tenderly; can't help thinking how much he looks like his father. "Chocolate chip if you go get your sister up."
He giggles brightly. "Zoey hates when I wake her up," he says a little gleefully before smacking a kiss against Serena's cheek and hopping off the bed, rushing out of the room again.
"Do it nicely, Theo," Serena calls after him. She sits up carefully, nauseated, bile rising to her throat - there's no question about it now, she's pregnant; she was sick like this with both of her kids. She sighs, throwing back the blankets. Zoey will take at least fifteen minutes to get out of bed, which means that she has that long to get her nausea under control.
Blair comes at six thirty, partially because she wants to spend time with the children and partially because it's an easy way for Serena to avoid Zoey's angry protests over being too old for a babysitter. She hugs Blair quickly and calls to the kids to let them know their aunt's arrived before she grabs her coat and slips on her shoes, heading for her waiting car.
The restaurant Nate picked is her favourite. The hostess greets her by name, smiling widely when she calls Serena First Lady, and guides her to the table in the back right-hand corner, semi-private and tucked away under soft, twinkling lights.
Nate pockets his phone and stands to greet her, brushing a kiss against her cheek. "Hey, you," he says as he pulls back.
She sits down in her chair on the other side of the table, replies softly, "Hey." She touches her hair. "You must have had a long day."
"Yeah." He flashes her a brief grin, as sweet as it's always been. "It's been crazy."
"I didn't congratulate you on your win," she says flatly.
His smile slips, fades. "Serena, come on - "
"Don't Serena, come on me," she says snappish but quiet, reaching for her glass of water and taking a sip. "You'd rather I congratulate you on your victory than on the impending arrival of your child, wouldn't you?"
Nate's expression hardens very slightly. "You told me at the worst possible moment - "
"Or the best possible moment," she retorts, cutting him off. "But thank you for making it clear how you feel about this."
He reaches across the table to take her hand, and she allows him to hold her fingers loosely. "I'm not looking to fight, babe, okay? I'm sorry. I just want to talk about all of this."
The waiter appears then, offering Nate his congratulations before he asks for their order. They both smile at him, polite and sincere, before naming the dishes they want. Their smiles dim the moment he turns away.
"How far along are you?" Nate asks softly.
She feels herself unwind a little, her hand relaxing in his at the sound of his quiet voice. "Almost sixteen weeks," she answers softly.
His eyes go wide. "You're four months - " He glances around, doesn't finish his sentence. "You're not even showing."
"I am, a little," she says quietly. "It's not like you've had a lot of time to look at me lately. And you'd be amazed at what an empire waist can hide in a dress."
Nate's gaze drops to her abdomen. "But…you just found it."
"I know things have been crazy for you," she says as calmly as she can. "But they've been crazy for me, too. Theo just started first grade and Zoey's seventeen and all of these parties and events and dinners - I've been working my ass off too. I wasn't paying that much attention; the nausea could've been nerves or wine or anything, stress can cause missed periods…" She trails off and shrugs. "I just noticed, really."
He nods slowly. "I know we've both had a lot on our minds, but…" His jaw works a little. "You want to have this baby?"
She sets her water glass down heavily, droplets splashing onto the pristine tablecloth. "It's a question now?" she asks incredulously.
There's a tiny flinch in his eyes but he doesn't back down. "We're not getting any younger."
"Bullshit, Nate," she hisses across the table. "We're thirty-five, not sixty."
"You just said it yourself, Serena - our lives are hectic enough as it is."
"So you want me to get an abortion so you can clear your schedule?" she demands in a hushed voice, too stunned to do anything but stare at him.
"Don't put words into my mouth. I was talking to Clara - "
Serena takes a sharp breath. "You talked to your PR people before you talked to me? Are you serious?"
"I am thirty five years old," he says tersely. "I'm just months into the cut-off to run for president, never mind win. People have doubts and I can't play into them."
"And what the hell did Clara mean when she told you to say that?"
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his hair, an old habit. "It doesn't…look good, okay. I say I can run this country, be a major player in the world, but my wife and I can't even handle birth control? If we'd known earlier, it would be different, but - "
"Are you blaming me?" she whispers. "Are you actually blaming me for not realizing sooner? Newsflash, Mr. President; I didn't impregnate myself. You're the one with the sperm."
"I'm not, I'm not blaming you, I'm just saying that it…it's complicated."
She pushes her chair back from the table. "Excuse me if I put our child above your political career."
He looks startled. "You're leaving?"
"Yes, I'm leaving. I can't even look at you right now."
"Serena - hey, sweetheart, hang on a minute - "
She shakes her head, slipping her coat back on. "I'm going to say this once, so listen carefully. Yes, the answer is yes - I want to have this baby and I'm going to have this baby. If you're so worried about your career I suggest you understand and support that decision now or you're going to have a divorce on your hands, and you and Clara can have fun trying to deal with the public reaction to that."
Nate doesn't jump up, doesn't try to stop her; they can't cause a scene. She cries in the car all the way home.
"Oh, sweetie," Blair breathes when Serena walks into the living room. "What happened? What's wrong?"
She touches her cheek, sighing. "I tried to fix my make-up," she murmurs. "Where are the kids?"
"Theodore's in bed. He was falling asleep in front of the tv. And Zoey's in her room…on the phone with a boy, I believe," Blair says, one of her eyebrows tilting up.
Serena's lips twist into a half-smile. "Did you spy on my daughter?"
Blair shrugs, reaching for Serena's hand and tugging her into the living room. "Come in here and sit down with me, tell me why you've been crying."
She slumps into the corner of the couch, says quietly, "I'm pregnant."
Blair tilts her head slightly. "And that's not good news?"
"No." Serena blows out her breath. "Nate doesn't think so."
"What?" Blair frowns. "That doesn't make any sense - he was over the moon about Theodore, even about Zoey."
"This baby is inconvenient to the reputation he's trying to create," Serena says flatly, pressing a hand lightly to her belly. "Apparently us finding out so late makes us look irresponsible - and apparently it's my fault."
"Finding out so late? How many weeks are you?"
"Sixteen," she sighs.
"Wow…four months."
"It's just been so busy, B, you know? The last thing I was thinking about was whether or not my period was on time, and getting a moment of privacy with Nate was so rare anyway - it's not like we've had a lot of time for sex lately."
"Enough time to make a baby, though," Blair murmurs. "S, I'm sure deep down he's so happy about this. I know Nate, you know Nate. We both know how much he loves your kids, how much he's loved them from the moment you told him about them."
"He basically asked me to get an abortion," Serena says quietly. "It's so…everything's so different, especially since the election race began. He hardly feels like my husband anymore."
Blair studies her face. "What did you say? When he asked you that."
Serena rubs at one of her eyes. "I threatened to divorce him," she mumbles.
"Oh, S…"
"I love this baby," Serena shrugs. "Even if things are messy right now, I love this baby and a big part of that is…because I love Nate. So if he doesn't feel the same way…"
Blair reaches over and tucks Serena's hair behind her ear gently. "You're going to get through this. Couples have rough patches, sweetie. I know you and Nate haven't had many, but believe me, you're an exception to the rule. This is just a big fight to make up for all the little ones you should've had. Five months from now, when you have my new niece or nephew…you'll be as happy as you were when Theo came, I know it."
Serena looks into her face wearily. "What if we aren't?"
"Then we get the very best divorce lawyer," Blair says calmly. "And we kick his ass."
Serena half-smiles. "B…"
"I love Nate," Blair shrugs. "But I'm in your corner. Always. You know that."
"Yeah." Serena sighs, leaning into Blair's shoulder. "And I'm in yours."
It's late when Nate comes home and to bed, somewhere around three o'clock in the morning.
He kisses her cheek as he gets into bed next to her. "Hey…I'm on board, okay? I want what you want."
"D'you meant it or are you just saying it?" she asks drowsily, eyes half-open.
"I mean it, baby," he says tenderly, wrapping an arm around her. "I always mean it."
There's a part of her that wants to roll away, to punish him, but the part of her that wants to be held wins out and she relaxes against him, nods a little and allows him to kiss her softly.
Nate kisses her mouth, her chin, and then trails his mouth down her neck, sucking and nipping at her skin occasionally. His mouth goes to the hollow of her throat, to the valley of her breasts, before it settles on her stomach, pressing a reverent kiss there. He perches his chin gently over her bellybutton as he peers up at her.
She brushes her fingers lightly through his hair, looking back at him. "We're not okay," she says quietly.
He nods, accepting that, and she falls back asleep to the feel of his mouth against her belly.
on to part two.