What Boredom Can Lead To (2/?)
Title: What Boredom Can Lead To (2/?)
Pairing: Dan/Blair
Rating: PG (for this part at least)
Summary: Dan and Blair are left to their own devices for the duration of winter break. With all of their friends gone, it seems that the two frenemies will have to rely on each other for entertainment.
Spoilers: Up to 4x11
Word Count: 3,336
Note: Thank you guys so much for all of the positive feedback - it's always nice to hear when people enjoy what you write! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as the last (or maybe more!) The next part will be posted tomorrow, so keep an eye out for it :) Also, the band mentioned in this chapter is White Lies. They're pretty great so check them out!
Dan smirks to himself after hanging up with Blair Waldorf. If anyone knew that he had willingly called her up and asked her to go to a concert at a semi-seedy venue...well, he figures that it would probably be his turn to get checked into the Ostroff Center.
So why had he invited her? Dan chalks it up to needing to see a friendly face no matter how unfriendly the person. Plus, he's positive that seeing Blair squirm all night long surrounded by "regular people" dressed in "regular clothes" doing "regular things." He's never seen her in such a casual setting and he wonders if she'll be different. Will she openly scoff at people or will she keep her snobbery in check? Will she come dressed to the nines, refusing to have heeded his warning or will she have taken his advice and dressed down?
The answer arrives at eight 'o clock when Blair arrives at Dan's loft and, rather than knocking as a normal human would, she simply yells "Humphrey! Don't keep me waiting!" Dan shuffles to the door, sporting jeans and a long sleeve flannel shirt. And when he opens the door, he nearly keels over in shock.
There stands Blair Waldorf, wearing jeans - jeans! - a white blouse, a black blazer, and of course, heels.
"You're wearing jeans?" Dan says, incredulous. Never, in all his life, has he seen Blair wear jeans - or anything denim for that matter.
"Don't remind me," she pushes past him and drops her purse on the counter, "I've almost become desensitized to the feeling of this...material rubbing against me. So, where exactly is it that we're going? A café? Poetry reading? A play?" She purses her lips but still manages to make it look like a smile.
"We are going to a concert at a place called Sadie's," he grins at her like he's one-upped her at her own game, but Blair plays it cool. After all, when does she not?
"A concert? I happen to love concerts. Just last week I saw the Philharmonic!" She gracefully pushes herself up onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter and idly touches all of the fruits sitting in the fruit bowl.
Dan walks over to the other side of the counter and leans forward. He thinks she looks better like this - less stuffy, more like a 21-year-old girl who has drive and ambition but knows how to have fun (at least Dan hopes she knows how to have fun.) "It's not really that kind of concert," he responds, watching her carefully to see her reaction. Her cheeks flush and her hand freezes over a pear but she quickly regains her composure and looks up at him.
"Well, whatever. Can we just go? I can hardly wait to spend my evening among your miscreant friends. Maybe I'll contract a disease at this concert!" And with that, she picks up her bag and walks to the door, turning on her heel to look at him impatiently.
"Be careful what you wish for, Waldorf." And with that, they're off to Sadie's.
+++
"Sadie's? Are you sure you don't mean Shady's? I can feel the grime emanating from this place and I think that I can smell urine," her nose is already wrinkled and Dan isn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused. Both, he guesses.
"Embrace it, Waldorf. It'll be an adventure!" He presses a 20 into the guys hand, who in turn stamps each of their hands, despite Blair looking between the stamp pad and her hand, her face aghast.
She makes a 'yuck' sound and scampers behind him. "I won't be embracing anything here, you can count on that."
The venue is crowded - a lot more crowded than Dan has seen in a while. He leads Blair through the waves of anxious and drunk 20-somethings. He feels Blair's tiny hand grasp the back of his jacket like her life depends on it. He hears her muttering things like 'inbreds' and 'disgusting' and 'oh my God,' so Dan leads them to the bar, hoping that a little alcohol will calm her down.
"Danny! Hey man, it's been a while!" The bartender grasps hands with Dan, acknowledging him fondly. Blair notes that his neck is covered in tattoos as are his arms and he has multiple facial piercings. The word 'miscreant' springs to her mind again. "And who's your friend?" The bartender eyes Blair approvingly but not unabashedly.
"Oh, she's not my..." he shakes his head, not even sure what he wants to say about Blair. "Greg this is Blair, Blair this is Greg."
"Charmed," Blair says, half smiling, half snarling at him. "I'll have a white wine, please." She looks away after ordering, taking in the scene, but is brought back to the happenings at the bar when both men burst out laughing. She looks between them, confused. "What?"
"I take it you've never been here before," Greg addresses her, leaning forward with his forearms on the bar and a rag in one of his hands.
"Ew, God no. He dragged me here," she rolls her eyes and puts one hand on her hip.
Dan looks at her quizzically. "You agreed pretty readily, Waldorf. In fact, it sounded like you wanted to come!"
She shifts to her other foot. "In your dreams, Humphrey."
"Either way," Greg cuts in, looking between Dan and Blair amusingly. "We don't have white wine here. We don't have any kind of wine here. It's just liquor and beer. Or water if that will satisfy you," he smirks when he sees the look on her face.
"She will have..." he turns and looks at her, as if her physical appearance alone will give him the answer to her drink order, "an amaretto cherry sour and I'll have a rum and coke, please." Greg nods and turns his back to make the drinks. "So, how are you holding up?"
Blair continues to inspect Sadie's. "Do they ever clean this place? I can literally feel my shoes sticking the floor and I think I caught a glimpse of some guy puking into the sink in the men's room."
"It's all part of the ambiance of Sadie's." Greg sets their drinks down in front of them and Dan nods his thanks, passing the pink drink off to Blair and keeping the other for himself. Blair takes a sip of the drink and finds herself pleasantly surprised.
"My, my Humphrey. At the very least, you know how to order a girl a drink," she smiles at him, almost genuinely if Dan isn't mistaken before she goes back to watching the crowd and sipping at her drink. They stand in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, and when Dan looks over at her, he finds that her glass is empty - save for the ice - and Blair is staring at the bottom of the glass like a girl who just lost her puppy.
"I think I'll have another," she says, posing it almost as a question before turning and striding back to the bar and ordering another. "You know, I don't know how I've gone 21 years without drinking one of these. They're like alcoholic Shirley Temples. These are my new favorite drink, Humphrey."
Dan eyes her carefully and a bit nervously. "You should take it easy with those, Blair. There's more alcohol in them than you think," he says smartly.
"Oh, please!" Blair cries and swats his arm, giggling and putting the straw back up to her mouth. "I know how to hold my liquor." Dan raises his eyebrows, clearly not believing her. At that point, the lights finally dim and the crowd erupts in excited cries.
"Hey, the bands going on. Do you want to get closer?" He asks her, totally sober with only half of his drink finished to her one and a half down.
She turns to him, eyes wide and excited and says "yes" like he's just asked her to marry him (only Dan would never do that because...it's Blair.) To his surprise, she downs the rest of her drink, slams it back down on the bar, grabs his hand, and drags him straight up to the front of the stage.
"Are you okay, Blair?" Dan asks, concerned that maybe he should have eased her into this situation. Maybe he should have just shown her the outside of Sadie's and left it at that for the night. This was probably like culture shock for her.
"I have never felt better! It's so loud!" She covers her ears, laughing and bobbing to the music.
"That's kind of the point!" Dan yells over the music, laughing more at her than anything else. He can't believe that standing in front of him is Blair Waldorf, hair down and headband free, wedged in between a girl who is most likely tripping on acid and an uber-hipster guy who seems irritated by everyone around him. And she's wearing jeans! And she's almost dancing!
"What?!" She yells back but doesn't really seem to care what he's saying because she turns directly to the stage, grasps the railing with her hands and hops up and down a few times. "They're good! Who are they?"
"White -"
"What?!" Blair doesn't let him finish before she cuts him off and screams in his ear.
"White. Lies." Dan leans over and yells back into her ear, to which she only nods and continues bouncing back and forth, really getting into the band as they launch into their second song of the set. She sways her head from side to side, her hair splayed across her face with every turn of her head and Dan can see that the tight ringlets that were intact earlier that night have loosened into waves. Dan surprises himself when the word 'beautiful' sweeps through his mind.
The odd pair enjoy the next few songs without any yelling between the two, before Blair grasps his shoulder and looks at him seriously. "I think I need another drink,"
"Blair -" Dan starts, knowing she's already drunk and probably shouldn't get anymore drunk.
"Oh Humphrey," she reaches up and grabs his face with her hand, squeezing his cheeks between her thumb and her other four fingers, resulting in Dan having fish lips. "LIghten up! I'll be back in a minute," she offers him a huge grin, complete with closed eyes and gums bared.
"What have I done?" He mutters to himself, watching her press back through the crowd. First she's wearing denim, now she's getting drunk. He doesn't know who this girl is, but there is no way that it's Blair Waldorf. Simple sentences, insult free, acting like a normal girl? Clearly Dan has stepped into the Twilight Zone.
She comes bounding back about 10 minutes later, drink in hand and a smile on her face. "You know, Humphrey, I thought this was going to be terrible! I mean I'm...me and you're...you and we're...us and this is...Brooklyn! It was one big recipe that could have been as bas as the pâté I had at my aunt's house last Easter but you!" She pokes him in the chest with her index finger for emphasis, "You are a good cook who can make something delicious out of revolting ingredients!" She pokes him again and takes a long sip of her drink. "Sooo yummy," she murmurs, staring at the glass in wonder.
And with that, Dan plucks the glass from Blair's fingers despite her indignant cries and vulgar curses that he has never heard her say. "We need to go, " he tells her and guides her out of the club.
"I was having fun, Humphrey! I was having fun in Brooklyn and you're telling me that I have to go? Just who do you think you are, Dan Humphrey?" She turns to him when they escape Sadie's and are standing on the sidewalk.
He can't help but laugh at her. "I think that I am Dan Humphrey and that you are drunk,"
"I am not drunk," she cries adamantly, "Blair Waldorf does not get drunk." She pouts at him, arms folded and staring down at her shoes. "Can I stay at your apartment?"
"Why...would you want to do that?" He eyes her carefully, one arm held out to hail a cab. Blair Waldorf stay at the loft? Tonight was getting weirder and weirder.
Before he can think, Blair scampers up to him and grabs his collar with both hands, pulling him down so that she can whisper in his ear. "Someone might see me if I go to my house! I can't let anyone worth knowing see me like this! I'm Blair Waldorf and Blair Waldorf does not go to skanky clubs in Brooklyn to get drunk and dance." She says the word 'dance' like someone might say 'abortion.' As if it's the worst thing in the world.
Finally, a cab pulls up and Dan gets Blair and himself settled before giving the driver his address. Blair's head lolls over onto his shoulder on the drive home and Dan leaves it there, a small smile tugging at the corner's of his mouth.
+++
Dan carries Blair up the stairs to his loft (he's not about to have her fall down them and crack her skull open, because she would, in turn, crack his open as well) and sets her down gently on his bed. He gently removes her shoes and sets them by the bed before rummaging around for the smallest pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt that he can find, folding them nicely and setting them on the dresser.
"Humphrey?" Blair says softly, half-way asleep. "Can I have a glass of water?"
He smiles softly and goes to the kitchen and gets a glass of water for her. She takes it and drinks half of the glass quickly before turning to him to say "I hope this isn't from your tap," and promptly passes out. Dan rolls his eyes. Only Blair would be wasted and still worried about the quality of the water she's drinking.
+++
Blair wakes up in the middle of the night, trying to figure out where she is and how she got there. Shelves upon shelves of books, fire escape outside of the window, squeaky bedsprings. It could only mean one thing: Dan Humphrey's room in Brooklyn! But why? And then it all comes flooding back to her - all of the amaretto cherry sours, the dancing, the jeans, the people. What was she thinking? And where is Dan Humphrey if not in his own room?
Quietly, she slides out of the bed and peeks around the corner, only to see Dan Humphrey across the room, curled up on the couch. Without thinking, Blair is tip-toeing over to him, grabbing a blanket off the back of his armchair and laying it over him. She stands over him for a second and watches him sleep. She gets what Serena always saw in him - his kind heart, his ability to forgive, the love he has for his family, the ability to make people laugh. He's a good guy, even Blair can't deny that fact. For a fleeting second she feels bad that he got involved in her world - that Serena pulled him and his whole family in and now there was no getting out. He would have - should have - been spending his time studying at NYU and making friends who like poetry and fiction and indie bands, not worrying about the latest blow up in a part of town that he doesn't even really live.
And for an even more fleeting moment that Blair doesn't even fully process, she's kind of glad that Serena dragged him into their crazy, glamorous, messed-up world.
Blair goes back to Dan's room and notices the more comfortable clothing that Humphrey had set out for her. Like I'd really wear a cotton-polyester blend with elastic in the waist and the ankles, Blair thinks to herself. But then again, in the seclusion of Dan Humphrey's apartment, who is she worried about impressing? They are, after all, Dan's clothes that he owns and wears himself.
"Damn it to Hell," she whispers to the empty room before pulling off her shirt and jeans and replacing them with clothes bearing tags that say "Made in the Philippines."
+++
Blair wakes up in the morning to the smell of bacon, eggs, and something sweet. Again, she has to remind herself that she's at Dan Humphrey's, that she slept in his bed all night, and that she got drunk last night and probably acted like a crazy fool in front of him. Not that she cares, it's only Dan Humphrey.
Dan hears her padding across the room into the kitchen and says "good morning" without looking up from the omelet he's just about to flip. When he does look up, he's surprised to see her looking...well, looking like the real Blair Waldorf that Dan figures people rarely see. And even then, who lives to tell the tale of Blair without makeup and hair unbrushed? "You're wearing my clothes," is all he can come up with, though.
Blair glances down at the sweats, figuratively uncomfortable but truly comfortable in the clothes which she's practically swimming in. "Couldn't exactly let designer clothes get wrinkled and smelly, could I?" She sniffs and hops up onto a stool and watches what he's doing. "You're cooking?"
"Well," he grins, eyes back to the food in front of him, "how could I not after you gushed about my culinary skills last night?"
"I did?" She gasps before recovering. "I mean, I did. It's one of - if not your only talent." Had she really told him she thought he was a good cook?
"Here," he says, pushing a ceramic coffee cup toward her. Timidly, she brings the cup up to her mouth and sips.
"Two creams and two sugars," she says, perfectly amazed. "How did you know?" She can't help but smile at him. Dan Humphrey sure was full of surprises.
"After hearing Jenny complain about being your little errand girl, it seems the one thing I got out of it was how you like your coffee."
She isn't sure how to feel about Dan knowing something like that. "Well, truth be told I prefer it in a porcelain cup."
Dan just laughs and turns his back, pulling something out of the oven with a hot mitt. "And how do you feel about cinnamon rolls?"
She looks at the glorious little treats that Dan has pulled out of the oven, shimmering with caramel topping, and the little bowl of frosting sitting next to the pan. "I feel that the only thing that cinnamon rolls can give me are rolls of my own. I appreciate the gesture, but I don't think I'll be eating those unless you want to give me diabetes."
"Come on, Blair," Dan puts a small dollop of frosting on top of one of the rolls and smooths it out. He then proceeds to set it on a plate and swirl it around under her nose. "It is okay to let yourself go every now and then. You did last night and...truth be told, you were fun."
She stares at the roll then at Dan then again at the roll. Before she can talk herself out of it, she snatches the plate and sets it down in front of her. "Let's not talk about last night. I am mortified at my actions. Moreso, I'm mortified by where they took place. Now, may I please have a fork and knife?" She motions with her hands to the roll and gives Dan a tight smile.
"Nope," he offers her a crooked smile and there's a glint in his eyes, "you've gotta eat it with your hands." Her mouth falls open and she stares at him with complete and utter hatred. Dan walks around the kitchen counter with a - dare she say it - strut and stops behind her. "Sometimes, you have to get a little messy, Waldorf." He murmurs in her ear and Blair fights back a shiver.
Just what the hell is Dan Humphrey up to and why is it working? Blair thinks to herself before she picks up the cinnamon roll and takes a giant bite out of it.
"Happy?" She asks, irritated.
Humphrey smiles and laughs and says "getting there" and takes a bite of his own.
---
Pairing: Dan/Blair
Rating: PG (for this part at least)
Summary: Dan and Blair are left to their own devices for the duration of winter break. With all of their friends gone, it seems that the two frenemies will have to rely on each other for entertainment.
Spoilers: Up to 4x11
Word Count: 3,336
Note: Thank you guys so much for all of the positive feedback - it's always nice to hear when people enjoy what you write! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as the last (or maybe more!) The next part will be posted tomorrow, so keep an eye out for it :) Also, the band mentioned in this chapter is White Lies. They're pretty great so check them out!
Dan smirks to himself after hanging up with Blair Waldorf. If anyone knew that he had willingly called her up and asked her to go to a concert at a semi-seedy venue...well, he figures that it would probably be his turn to get checked into the Ostroff Center.
So why had he invited her? Dan chalks it up to needing to see a friendly face no matter how unfriendly the person. Plus, he's positive that seeing Blair squirm all night long surrounded by "regular people" dressed in "regular clothes" doing "regular things." He's never seen her in such a casual setting and he wonders if she'll be different. Will she openly scoff at people or will she keep her snobbery in check? Will she come dressed to the nines, refusing to have heeded his warning or will she have taken his advice and dressed down?
The answer arrives at eight 'o clock when Blair arrives at Dan's loft and, rather than knocking as a normal human would, she simply yells "Humphrey! Don't keep me waiting!" Dan shuffles to the door, sporting jeans and a long sleeve flannel shirt. And when he opens the door, he nearly keels over in shock.
There stands Blair Waldorf, wearing jeans - jeans! - a white blouse, a black blazer, and of course, heels.
"You're wearing jeans?" Dan says, incredulous. Never, in all his life, has he seen Blair wear jeans - or anything denim for that matter.
"Don't remind me," she pushes past him and drops her purse on the counter, "I've almost become desensitized to the feeling of this...material rubbing against me. So, where exactly is it that we're going? A café? Poetry reading? A play?" She purses her lips but still manages to make it look like a smile.
"We are going to a concert at a place called Sadie's," he grins at her like he's one-upped her at her own game, but Blair plays it cool. After all, when does she not?
"A concert? I happen to love concerts. Just last week I saw the Philharmonic!" She gracefully pushes herself up onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter and idly touches all of the fruits sitting in the fruit bowl.
Dan walks over to the other side of the counter and leans forward. He thinks she looks better like this - less stuffy, more like a 21-year-old girl who has drive and ambition but knows how to have fun (at least Dan hopes she knows how to have fun.) "It's not really that kind of concert," he responds, watching her carefully to see her reaction. Her cheeks flush and her hand freezes over a pear but she quickly regains her composure and looks up at him.
"Well, whatever. Can we just go? I can hardly wait to spend my evening among your miscreant friends. Maybe I'll contract a disease at this concert!" And with that, she picks up her bag and walks to the door, turning on her heel to look at him impatiently.
"Be careful what you wish for, Waldorf." And with that, they're off to Sadie's.
+++
"Sadie's? Are you sure you don't mean Shady's? I can feel the grime emanating from this place and I think that I can smell urine," her nose is already wrinkled and Dan isn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused. Both, he guesses.
"Embrace it, Waldorf. It'll be an adventure!" He presses a 20 into the guys hand, who in turn stamps each of their hands, despite Blair looking between the stamp pad and her hand, her face aghast.
She makes a 'yuck' sound and scampers behind him. "I won't be embracing anything here, you can count on that."
The venue is crowded - a lot more crowded than Dan has seen in a while. He leads Blair through the waves of anxious and drunk 20-somethings. He feels Blair's tiny hand grasp the back of his jacket like her life depends on it. He hears her muttering things like 'inbreds' and 'disgusting' and 'oh my God,' so Dan leads them to the bar, hoping that a little alcohol will calm her down.
"Danny! Hey man, it's been a while!" The bartender grasps hands with Dan, acknowledging him fondly. Blair notes that his neck is covered in tattoos as are his arms and he has multiple facial piercings. The word 'miscreant' springs to her mind again. "And who's your friend?" The bartender eyes Blair approvingly but not unabashedly.
"Oh, she's not my..." he shakes his head, not even sure what he wants to say about Blair. "Greg this is Blair, Blair this is Greg."
"Charmed," Blair says, half smiling, half snarling at him. "I'll have a white wine, please." She looks away after ordering, taking in the scene, but is brought back to the happenings at the bar when both men burst out laughing. She looks between them, confused. "What?"
"I take it you've never been here before," Greg addresses her, leaning forward with his forearms on the bar and a rag in one of his hands.
"Ew, God no. He dragged me here," she rolls her eyes and puts one hand on her hip.
Dan looks at her quizzically. "You agreed pretty readily, Waldorf. In fact, it sounded like you wanted to come!"
She shifts to her other foot. "In your dreams, Humphrey."
"Either way," Greg cuts in, looking between Dan and Blair amusingly. "We don't have white wine here. We don't have any kind of wine here. It's just liquor and beer. Or water if that will satisfy you," he smirks when he sees the look on her face.
"She will have..." he turns and looks at her, as if her physical appearance alone will give him the answer to her drink order, "an amaretto cherry sour and I'll have a rum and coke, please." Greg nods and turns his back to make the drinks. "So, how are you holding up?"
Blair continues to inspect Sadie's. "Do they ever clean this place? I can literally feel my shoes sticking the floor and I think I caught a glimpse of some guy puking into the sink in the men's room."
"It's all part of the ambiance of Sadie's." Greg sets their drinks down in front of them and Dan nods his thanks, passing the pink drink off to Blair and keeping the other for himself. Blair takes a sip of the drink and finds herself pleasantly surprised.
"My, my Humphrey. At the very least, you know how to order a girl a drink," she smiles at him, almost genuinely if Dan isn't mistaken before she goes back to watching the crowd and sipping at her drink. They stand in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, and when Dan looks over at her, he finds that her glass is empty - save for the ice - and Blair is staring at the bottom of the glass like a girl who just lost her puppy.
"I think I'll have another," she says, posing it almost as a question before turning and striding back to the bar and ordering another. "You know, I don't know how I've gone 21 years without drinking one of these. They're like alcoholic Shirley Temples. These are my new favorite drink, Humphrey."
Dan eyes her carefully and a bit nervously. "You should take it easy with those, Blair. There's more alcohol in them than you think," he says smartly.
"Oh, please!" Blair cries and swats his arm, giggling and putting the straw back up to her mouth. "I know how to hold my liquor." Dan raises his eyebrows, clearly not believing her. At that point, the lights finally dim and the crowd erupts in excited cries.
"Hey, the bands going on. Do you want to get closer?" He asks her, totally sober with only half of his drink finished to her one and a half down.
She turns to him, eyes wide and excited and says "yes" like he's just asked her to marry him (only Dan would never do that because...it's Blair.) To his surprise, she downs the rest of her drink, slams it back down on the bar, grabs his hand, and drags him straight up to the front of the stage.
"Are you okay, Blair?" Dan asks, concerned that maybe he should have eased her into this situation. Maybe he should have just shown her the outside of Sadie's and left it at that for the night. This was probably like culture shock for her.
"I have never felt better! It's so loud!" She covers her ears, laughing and bobbing to the music.
"That's kind of the point!" Dan yells over the music, laughing more at her than anything else. He can't believe that standing in front of him is Blair Waldorf, hair down and headband free, wedged in between a girl who is most likely tripping on acid and an uber-hipster guy who seems irritated by everyone around him. And she's wearing jeans! And she's almost dancing!
"What?!" She yells back but doesn't really seem to care what he's saying because she turns directly to the stage, grasps the railing with her hands and hops up and down a few times. "They're good! Who are they?"
"White -"
"What?!" Blair doesn't let him finish before she cuts him off and screams in his ear.
"White. Lies." Dan leans over and yells back into her ear, to which she only nods and continues bouncing back and forth, really getting into the band as they launch into their second song of the set. She sways her head from side to side, her hair splayed across her face with every turn of her head and Dan can see that the tight ringlets that were intact earlier that night have loosened into waves. Dan surprises himself when the word 'beautiful' sweeps through his mind.
The odd pair enjoy the next few songs without any yelling between the two, before Blair grasps his shoulder and looks at him seriously. "I think I need another drink,"
"Blair -" Dan starts, knowing she's already drunk and probably shouldn't get anymore drunk.
"Oh Humphrey," she reaches up and grabs his face with her hand, squeezing his cheeks between her thumb and her other four fingers, resulting in Dan having fish lips. "LIghten up! I'll be back in a minute," she offers him a huge grin, complete with closed eyes and gums bared.
"What have I done?" He mutters to himself, watching her press back through the crowd. First she's wearing denim, now she's getting drunk. He doesn't know who this girl is, but there is no way that it's Blair Waldorf. Simple sentences, insult free, acting like a normal girl? Clearly Dan has stepped into the Twilight Zone.
She comes bounding back about 10 minutes later, drink in hand and a smile on her face. "You know, Humphrey, I thought this was going to be terrible! I mean I'm...me and you're...you and we're...us and this is...Brooklyn! It was one big recipe that could have been as bas as the pâté I had at my aunt's house last Easter but you!" She pokes him in the chest with her index finger for emphasis, "You are a good cook who can make something delicious out of revolting ingredients!" She pokes him again and takes a long sip of her drink. "Sooo yummy," she murmurs, staring at the glass in wonder.
And with that, Dan plucks the glass from Blair's fingers despite her indignant cries and vulgar curses that he has never heard her say. "We need to go, " he tells her and guides her out of the club.
"I was having fun, Humphrey! I was having fun in Brooklyn and you're telling me that I have to go? Just who do you think you are, Dan Humphrey?" She turns to him when they escape Sadie's and are standing on the sidewalk.
He can't help but laugh at her. "I think that I am Dan Humphrey and that you are drunk,"
"I am not drunk," she cries adamantly, "Blair Waldorf does not get drunk." She pouts at him, arms folded and staring down at her shoes. "Can I stay at your apartment?"
"Why...would you want to do that?" He eyes her carefully, one arm held out to hail a cab. Blair Waldorf stay at the loft? Tonight was getting weirder and weirder.
Before he can think, Blair scampers up to him and grabs his collar with both hands, pulling him down so that she can whisper in his ear. "Someone might see me if I go to my house! I can't let anyone worth knowing see me like this! I'm Blair Waldorf and Blair Waldorf does not go to skanky clubs in Brooklyn to get drunk and dance." She says the word 'dance' like someone might say 'abortion.' As if it's the worst thing in the world.
Finally, a cab pulls up and Dan gets Blair and himself settled before giving the driver his address. Blair's head lolls over onto his shoulder on the drive home and Dan leaves it there, a small smile tugging at the corner's of his mouth.
+++
Dan carries Blair up the stairs to his loft (he's not about to have her fall down them and crack her skull open, because she would, in turn, crack his open as well) and sets her down gently on his bed. He gently removes her shoes and sets them by the bed before rummaging around for the smallest pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt that he can find, folding them nicely and setting them on the dresser.
"Humphrey?" Blair says softly, half-way asleep. "Can I have a glass of water?"
He smiles softly and goes to the kitchen and gets a glass of water for her. She takes it and drinks half of the glass quickly before turning to him to say "I hope this isn't from your tap," and promptly passes out. Dan rolls his eyes. Only Blair would be wasted and still worried about the quality of the water she's drinking.
+++
Blair wakes up in the middle of the night, trying to figure out where she is and how she got there. Shelves upon shelves of books, fire escape outside of the window, squeaky bedsprings. It could only mean one thing: Dan Humphrey's room in Brooklyn! But why? And then it all comes flooding back to her - all of the amaretto cherry sours, the dancing, the jeans, the people. What was she thinking? And where is Dan Humphrey if not in his own room?
Quietly, she slides out of the bed and peeks around the corner, only to see Dan Humphrey across the room, curled up on the couch. Without thinking, Blair is tip-toeing over to him, grabbing a blanket off the back of his armchair and laying it over him. She stands over him for a second and watches him sleep. She gets what Serena always saw in him - his kind heart, his ability to forgive, the love he has for his family, the ability to make people laugh. He's a good guy, even Blair can't deny that fact. For a fleeting second she feels bad that he got involved in her world - that Serena pulled him and his whole family in and now there was no getting out. He would have - should have - been spending his time studying at NYU and making friends who like poetry and fiction and indie bands, not worrying about the latest blow up in a part of town that he doesn't even really live.
And for an even more fleeting moment that Blair doesn't even fully process, she's kind of glad that Serena dragged him into their crazy, glamorous, messed-up world.
Blair goes back to Dan's room and notices the more comfortable clothing that Humphrey had set out for her. Like I'd really wear a cotton-polyester blend with elastic in the waist and the ankles, Blair thinks to herself. But then again, in the seclusion of Dan Humphrey's apartment, who is she worried about impressing? They are, after all, Dan's clothes that he owns and wears himself.
"Damn it to Hell," she whispers to the empty room before pulling off her shirt and jeans and replacing them with clothes bearing tags that say "Made in the Philippines."
+++
Blair wakes up in the morning to the smell of bacon, eggs, and something sweet. Again, she has to remind herself that she's at Dan Humphrey's, that she slept in his bed all night, and that she got drunk last night and probably acted like a crazy fool in front of him. Not that she cares, it's only Dan Humphrey.
Dan hears her padding across the room into the kitchen and says "good morning" without looking up from the omelet he's just about to flip. When he does look up, he's surprised to see her looking...well, looking like the real Blair Waldorf that Dan figures people rarely see. And even then, who lives to tell the tale of Blair without makeup and hair unbrushed? "You're wearing my clothes," is all he can come up with, though.
Blair glances down at the sweats, figuratively uncomfortable but truly comfortable in the clothes which she's practically swimming in. "Couldn't exactly let designer clothes get wrinkled and smelly, could I?" She sniffs and hops up onto a stool and watches what he's doing. "You're cooking?"
"Well," he grins, eyes back to the food in front of him, "how could I not after you gushed about my culinary skills last night?"
"I did?" She gasps before recovering. "I mean, I did. It's one of - if not your only talent." Had she really told him she thought he was a good cook?
"Here," he says, pushing a ceramic coffee cup toward her. Timidly, she brings the cup up to her mouth and sips.
"Two creams and two sugars," she says, perfectly amazed. "How did you know?" She can't help but smile at him. Dan Humphrey sure was full of surprises.
"After hearing Jenny complain about being your little errand girl, it seems the one thing I got out of it was how you like your coffee."
She isn't sure how to feel about Dan knowing something like that. "Well, truth be told I prefer it in a porcelain cup."
Dan just laughs and turns his back, pulling something out of the oven with a hot mitt. "And how do you feel about cinnamon rolls?"
She looks at the glorious little treats that Dan has pulled out of the oven, shimmering with caramel topping, and the little bowl of frosting sitting next to the pan. "I feel that the only thing that cinnamon rolls can give me are rolls of my own. I appreciate the gesture, but I don't think I'll be eating those unless you want to give me diabetes."
"Come on, Blair," Dan puts a small dollop of frosting on top of one of the rolls and smooths it out. He then proceeds to set it on a plate and swirl it around under her nose. "It is okay to let yourself go every now and then. You did last night and...truth be told, you were fun."
She stares at the roll then at Dan then again at the roll. Before she can talk herself out of it, she snatches the plate and sets it down in front of her. "Let's not talk about last night. I am mortified at my actions. Moreso, I'm mortified by where they took place. Now, may I please have a fork and knife?" She motions with her hands to the roll and gives Dan a tight smile.
"Nope," he offers her a crooked smile and there's a glint in his eyes, "you've gotta eat it with your hands." Her mouth falls open and she stares at him with complete and utter hatred. Dan walks around the kitchen counter with a - dare she say it - strut and stops behind her. "Sometimes, you have to get a little messy, Waldorf." He murmurs in her ear and Blair fights back a shiver.
Just what the hell is Dan Humphrey up to and why is it working? Blair thinks to herself before she picks up the cinnamon roll and takes a giant bite out of it.
"Happy?" She asks, irritated.
Humphrey smiles and laughs and says "getting there" and takes a bite of his own.
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