S&B Fanfiction.
Okay, so I finally got my S/B fanfiction finished. :3
Here goes nothing, I s'pose.
Title: Perfectly Imperfect
Author: definexfreedom
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing: Blair/Serena (waldsen)
Rating: This chapter is PG. The overall thing will probably be PG-13.
Summary: Takes place the morning after Serena retrieves Blair from her almost-trip.
Author's Notes: Okay, so I realize that this seems like it wraps thing sup and like it should be a one-shot, but don't be fooled. However much I fail at endings, it will be continued (hopefully), so there you have it. I'm not sure it's any good, really, but hopefully it's at least worth a quick skim. =P
Perfectly Imperfect
by definexfreedom
There was always something a bit unsettling about waking up in an unexpected place. No matter where you were, even if it was some place you were thrilled to be, there was always that first flash, half-asleep, of being lost in some unknown territory. Of course, the feeling which quickly followed did depend entirely on where you awoke. It could be joy or disappointment, but it would always be preceded by that unsettling feeling creeping down your spine.
When Serena awoke that morning, she wondered if Blair would feel it, that initial shock of awakening in somewhere altogether unexpected. Because though Serena had awoken to the same room and its white-washed walls for the past several months-even if that startling feeling had haunted her for the first few days-Blair had not. Come to think of it, Blair had never woken up in this room, in this hotel. They had spent so much of the last few months in limbo between enemies and friends-not to mention amidst boyfriends and scandals-that there had never really been any kind of sleepover at the van der Woodsen temporary residence. In spite of their precarious relationship, Serena couldn’t help but find it strange.
It wasn’t only odd, though; she also felt a tangible sense of loss. As if it proved something about what had happened to them. Not that they hadn’t had their arguments before Serena had gone off to boarding school because they had, of course (Blair and Serena, best friends without the bickering? Absolutely impossible), but it had never been quite like this. And they’d never stopped staying at each other’s houses. That was unheard of.
As she glanced toward the other side of the bed to find that very Ms. Waldorf still asleep, Serena couldn’t help but smile. As cliché as it sounded-and it sounded so very cliché, there was no denying that-the regal Queen Bee had always looked so much more tranquil in sleep. It took a long time to break through that shell she had so carefully crafted around herself, but the ice queen was all but lost in that almost-smile, the epitome of contentedness. Again, Serena made a mental note that summarized how very corny all these thoughts were, but somehow she couldn’t manage to cut them off. It had always been that way with Blair: always too much but never quite enough.
The serene look on Blair’s face reminded Serena suddenly-and startlingly-of memories she hadn’t given much thought to in quite some time.
“Serena!” The fear alone in Blair’s frantic whisper was enough to startle the blonde from the depths of her unconsciousness. It was an emotion twelve-year-old Serena was rarely given access to and she quickly turned to the brunette, tucked into bed beside her, practically shaking. The flash of lightning outside, followed swiftly by the crashing sound of thunder, gave her all the answer she needed. In spite of her high-and-mighty, fearless exterior, thunderstorms had always terrified Blair.
Serena immediately shifted towards her friend, sitting so she was leaning against the headboard. She motioned the brunette to her, who followed the silent instructions without protest (a once in a lifetime opportunity) and sat herself in Serena’s lap, back pressed to front. Serena softly began to hum one of her mom’s old lullabies (as hard as it might have been to believe that Lily van der Woodsen ever hummed any kind of lullabies) into the brunette’s ear because right now it didn’t matter how off-key she was, as long as she was here for B. All the while, the blonde gently stroked her best friend’s hair and held her close. Between these whispered songs, Serena softly murmured in her best friend’s ear, “B, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re with me. I’d never let anything hurt you.”
They fell asleep like that, in each other’s arms, and never mentioned it again. Blair’s vulnerabilities were not to be discussed. Nonetheless, Serena received her thanks in other, more meaningful ways. An uncharacteristically bright smile, a hug that lasted a beat or two longer than usual. And she knew that it was Blair thanking her the only way she knew how. To Serena, it meant the world.
Besides, that night, seeing the tranquil look on her best friend’s face before drifting off to sleep herself, Serena knew it was all worth it.
Her thoughts, perhaps fortunately, were interrupted by her mother’s voice, calling from outside her door. “I’m going out to eat breakfast; would you girls care to join me?”
“I think we’ll be fine in the kitchen,” Serena called back, attempting to keep her voice somewhat low in an effort not to wake her companion.
“All right,” confirmed Lily, “Just-I’ll see you later, then.”
The distant padding of feet and the clink of the door closing confirmed that Serena’s mother had, indeed, left. A glance toward the brunette, however, caught her by surprise: brown eyes stared back at her. A smile, too, caught Serena slightly off-guard, but then again, Blair had always been different when she first awoke, as if she only had one foot in reality. It was one of the few times she wasn’t wearing her armor.
“Sorry,” apologized Serena immediately, smiling ruefully, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” If Blair felt any of that aforementioned “unsettled feeling,” she certainly didn’t show it. In fact, as she blinked away the last traces of bleariness, she seemed altogether comfortable.
“Oh, it’s fine,” she dismissed, “I shouldn’t sleep too long, anyway. Wouldn’t want my mother to think I was getting lazy.” The last statement was added with a wry undertone, a sigh of slight exasperation. After all, the relationship between Blair and her mother was, ah, interesting…to say the least.
“Well,” replied Serena with a smirk as she propped herself up on the pillow with her elbow, “it’s a good thing she didn’t worry about you being lazy when we were younger or else you never would’ve been able to come over to my house.”
“No wonder Mother was always mentioning your bad influence on me,” joked Blair, smirking at her best friend, who grinned back.
“Like I’d believe that. My family has too much money for Eleanor to call me a bad influence,” she responded, now mirroring Blair’s expression. “Imagine-our parents might lose connections.”
It was rare for them to be able to make fun of the world they lived in, especially when it came to Blair. Serena, of course, received outside influence, given the Humphreys, but Blair’s company was fully inclusive. The best of the best. The elite. And she made sure of it. Still, perhaps they wouldn’t have been so quick to tease had it not been this time, here and now, where they were the victims of pasts and memories and happiness and times when they hadn’t needed to think so hard. Times when they weren’t caught up in tomorrow, but lost in the edges of today.
In spite of that, Blair rolled her eyes. “If you don’t stop soon, I’ll start worrying those Humphreys have contaminated you.” Only Serena would be able to hear the smile hidden beneath those words.
“Dan told me he loved me.” The words seem to startle Blair slightly, as if she were crossing some kind of boundary, emerging from the blurred area somewhere between fantasy and reality and stepping firmly into reality. It was as if an unsettling air had been cast over them. Waking them.
To be fair, it was only because Blair was Blair and Serena was Serena that the blonde could sense her best friend’s surprise. It didn’t last long.
“Oh, as if that’s such a shock,” she responded, the condescending tone making her reply classically Blair Waldorf. When Serena shot her a bemused look, she rolled her eyes, as if she were being forced to explain this to a four-year-old. “At least three-quarters of the male population is madly in love with you as it is. I’m just surprised it didn’t come before now.” She shrugs.
“I told him I loved him…eventually,” she says, and for some reason she turns away from Blair and her eyes meet the ceiling.
“Eventually? Don’t tell me you tortured the poor boy, Serena. I hate to say that I pity your idiot boyfriend, but…”
Ignoring the jab, Serena continued to stare at the ceiling, explaining to Blair what had happened and also what he’d said when she’d asked him why he loved her. Once she’d finished, B simply rolled her eyes and scoffed.
“He could have at least been a bit more romantic; anyone with eyes and ears could have figured all those things out.” She waved her hand dismissively, disregarding Dan Humphrey’s words. By anyone else’s standards, they may have been considered adorable-sweet, even-but they were no match to Blair Waldorf’s standards.
“Well, I thought it was sweet,” insisted Serena, finally looking over to meet her best friend’s gaze.
Blair could only roll her eyes again. “You would. All you have to judge against relationship-wise is that…Humphrey.” She spit it out like it was vile; yes, she’d adjusted (somewhat) to his constant presence, but that didn’t mean she had to adore the kid.
This time, Serena couldn’t ignore the words. “Oh, come on, B. He’s not that bad,” she responded, her tone very close to a plea. “He’s such a nice guy. You just have to get to know him better.”
Again, Blair scoffed. “Please, he can’t even do the ‘nice guy’ job right. He could’ve at least said something…” She trailed off, as if unable to find the proper word.
“Most guys wouldn’t have said anything,” commented Serena; this time, her gaze forcibly met her best friend’s, as if daring her to protest. “And certainly nothing like that. Then again, the Waldorf standards have always been a bit high.”
“Oh, right, I forgot. Compared to the van der Woodsen standards, which are…” She paused, as if in thought, before smirking and adding, “…nonexistent.”
“Blair!” Serena breathed out both in frustration and exasperation.
“He could have at least made an attempt. ‘Sexy as hell’ is the most ridiculous and unromantic thing I’ve ever heard. He could’ve at least said, ‘I can’t find the words to describe you. Beautiful doesn’t define it; sexy fails in comparison to you. And even though both are true, they don’t do you justice. They don’t describe the way that, sometimes, when you’re in the sunlight, you have this golden sparkle to your hair. It makes you look like an angel. And I know how cliché that sounds and you deserve more than all the clichés in the world, but that’s all I have to give you. And there’s this thing that you do when you’re nervous and excited, where you smile and bite your bottom lip, that’s just indescribable. It makes me want to be near you all the time. And I always wish I could kiss you, but at the same time I’d never be able to see you and I think I could live my entire life just watching you. I love the way, when you’re unable to contain your excitement, you start acting like you’re five all over again. When you smile, there’s this light in your eyes and everyone instantly wants to be near you. I’d plan my whole life around you if I could.
“And you care, you care so much…it’s unbelievable. You put your heart and soul into everything you do and there’s this fire within you that’s impossible to resist. And, again with the clichés, but you make me wish I was a better person. A much, much better person. Because as much as I try to be as good as you, I’m not even close. And you deserve so much better, but here you are, standing with me…and I wish I could tell you exactly why I love you, but I can’t come even close. I am at a loss in comparison to you. Because you know who I am and that scares me sometimes because I’m not even close to perfect, and yet you’re always there-and I know who you are, and it only makes me love you more.”
The words were thrown out carelessly, spoken an instructional manner, as if they weren’t quite so weighty. As if they weren’t making Serena flush and smile and bite her lip in the aforementioned manner.
“You know, Waldorf,” she commented, when at least she could speak, when at last the air had returned to her lungs and she remembered how to breathe. When at last she wasn’t suffocated by so-called “clichés” and memories and if onlys and an overpowering nothing and everything. “If you were a boy, no one could possibly resist you.”
“No one can resist me now,” she corrected, smirking at her best friend, and while she seemed perfectly at ease, all Serena could seem to remember were romantic words of clichés and perfectly imperfect love. And she couldn’t quite draw the line between the words themselves and their implications, between their shared present and their shared past.
“True enough,” Serena admitted, mock-reluctantly, and settled down beside her best friend to partake in a Saturday morning tradition (which wasn’t really a tradition, given it had only begun today, but already it felt like one), Blair Waldorf and Serena van der Woodsen style.
Because if it wasn’t their kind of style, it just wasn’t worth it.