Gossip Girl Fic: not about the pink elephants
not about the pink elephants
Serena’s jealous, shut up.
gossip girl. serena. serena/dan.
victor, victorla; 1275 words, g.
She picks a corner after school, tucked against the stairs; thumbing through her English notes, it’s a strange feeling and opens a line she’s not really sure she’s ready to spin through yet.
Serena’s jealous, shut up.
She leans back against the step. Her heel scrapes against the wall, the sound cracking between the noise of classes changing to the end of the day. It more than just occurs to her that she’s being completely and utterly ridiculous, folding between things that she swore off with this whole brand new perspective.
“You’re angry at me.”
She jumps and Dan’s grinning carefully, stepping forward and framing her other side. Back straight, pulling her English notes out of her hand, he tries to make her laugh and dangles the notebook between his fingers.
She snorts, reaching for it. “Not.”
“You’re wrinkling your nose.”
Her eyes roll and she peeks to the coming crowds, dropping the notebook half-heartedly. She flashes a lazy half-smile to Jenny; the younger girl waves and Blair’s following Nate, an anxious turn of her mouth. There’s a closeness that spins between them again. It’s not the same and it bothers her sometimes - but then, then, these are girls, growing up backwards and forwards, ending and beginning. She just wishes -
Nah, she thinks, nah, nevermind.
“And you’re annoying,” she mutters.
He’s quiet and she spends too much time, shifting. Her shoulders tense and roll, her mouth turning quietly. She shakes her head and, really, all the same she feels stupid still, pursing her lips.
Dan sighs. “Serena -”
She ducks. “Not angry.”
“Uh-huh.” His fingers graze her wrist, opening against her palm as he ducks closer. His mouth brushes against her shoulder.
Her lips curl and she leans closer, shaking her head. She could go into it, she should; if anything, there’s a sense of openness that she kind of appreciates between them. She’s uncertain, a little scared, but she’ll never tell him. it’s kind of odd, kind of thick in her throat, and these are things that are more than just hard to share.
But it’s growing, you know?
“Miffed,” she says finally. She doesn’t look at him, “I’m miffed. I plan to seek reassurance in -”
“Chocolate?”
He’s grinning and she can’t help herself, her mouth turning in amusement. She kisses him softly, despite the fact that she remembers she’s supposed to be pissed. It’s not that she wants to be. But god, really, Vanessa. The daunting overkill of the other girl holds too many questions still, pieces that she can’t have; she knows he’d answer every single one of them, they’re open, so far, and she likes that. It’s different. It’s new.
Still. Vanessa holds something between them. He might not see it, but she feels it a little too much for liking. It’s not supposed to be like that and that thought, that one, makes her wince at the naivety.
“Stop smiling,” she mutters.
He laughs and tugs her forward, his fingers brushing against her hip. His mouth brushes against her throat. “I’m not smiling.”
“Oh, you’re smiling.”
He laughs again, against her skin. The murmur of sound pushes her to curl against him, between his legs and ducking against his shoulder. She nips at his skin, her teeth tugging gently, and there’s a Serena as he turns them.
“She’s not a bad girl.”
Oh, so she’s obvious now.
Dan’s mouth stays at her throat, slipping to her shoulder. He’s muffled, but his hands curl around her back and smooth against her jacket.
“Really,” he murmurs, “Vanessa’s not a bad girl.”
She nods. Her eyes close and she sighs; it’s for him, she thinks, for him and she should do it. Dan gave her chance and that means too much, more than she could really tell him. God, she thinks, you’re getting sappy.
It just doesn’t mean she’s going to like sucking it up. So she coughs, her mouth turning a little bit. “And I’m allowed to be miffed.”
He laughs. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
Her eyes are a little wide and she’s thinking, god, what is she being paranoid for. His mouth cues in amusement, pressing against her jaw again and then again. She laughs softly, shaking her head and he grins.
“Fine,” he murmurs, “Be miffed.”
She tries to hide her laugh. “I like the word miffed.”
“You’re stranger than me.”
His hand wraps around hers and he picks up her bag, curling their fingers together. They start to walk. It’s the usual now, between the two of them, starting and going places. He’ll never admit to romanticizing everything and she’s right behind him, but they enjoy this and it’s the first time, really, that she looks forward to the small things, that she’s not getting as caught up as before.
“But you like me,” she grins cheekily.
“I like you.” He swings their hands, “And you like me.”
There’s a horn. A couple curses. And she supposes, somehow, she can see why he’s keen on Dartmouth, or why she’d be open to following. It’s too far ahead, she knows, but in the moment, that kind of quiet with him, yeah, she would do it.
Her mouth turns. “Sometimes.”
He laughs.
They’re quiet then and keep to wandering. She murmurs something about coffee. He follows with something about records first and really, she won’t lie, there’s no hesitation anymore. She’s fascinated and thrilled by the change in predictability.
“Hey.”
They stop. Or rather, he stops and she stumbles. She wrinkles her nose at the lack of grace, causing him to laugh again. He steadies her, pulling her forward. His thumb traces over her lip, his knuckles brushing back against her chin and cheek. She looks down and he sighs, stealing a ledge and tugging her between his legs.
His mouth dips against her cheek. “It shouldn’t be awkward.”
“Kind of is.” She looks away.
Dan stays quiet, a loose arm around her waist. She tries not to look at him; the ups, the downs, the amusement - she just thinks about the reassurance, the ample understanding that they keep pushing forward, fast and there.
“I’m sorry.”
Her eyes widen and he’s looking away. She shakes her head, her hands pressing against his face. Her mouth brushes his.
“Don’t be,” she murmurs, “I just -”
He’s quick. “You don’t have to.”
“No, I don’t. But -” She swings her hands to his face, her lips turn and she sighs. She relents for him, not for her, and the strangeness of her selflessness hovers over her. She can try, she thinks, she can try.
“Okay.”
She ignores the burn in her throat, the quick swallow fueling the distraction of his surprise as he looks up at her.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” she shrugs. And then, slowly, “I can’t promise anything.”
Dan’s serious for the moment, mixing concern with something else. The something else peaks hopefully in her mind and she turns her head, ducking. She’s still hiding, still weighting everything that keeps her back. It’s daunting, sometimes, to break old habits and swing into something new.
But she’s here, right, and it is what it is.
The assertion is familiar though, in some respects, calm instead of panicked. She takes a deep breath and kisses him lightly, earning a soft laugh. She’s giving him something and he seems to take some of it, at least, with a charge of understanding.
“You’re cute,” he murmurs.
Serena laughs huskily, shaking her head and punching him lightly in the side. She ducks when he reaches for her, laughing loudly as they swing around.
She’s breathless, spilling boys for his grin and still brand new.
-
Serena’s jealous, shut up.
gossip girl. serena. serena/dan.
victor, victorla; 1275 words, g.
She picks a corner after school, tucked against the stairs; thumbing through her English notes, it’s a strange feeling and opens a line she’s not really sure she’s ready to spin through yet.
Serena’s jealous, shut up.
She leans back against the step. Her heel scrapes against the wall, the sound cracking between the noise of classes changing to the end of the day. It more than just occurs to her that she’s being completely and utterly ridiculous, folding between things that she swore off with this whole brand new perspective.
“You’re angry at me.”
She jumps and Dan’s grinning carefully, stepping forward and framing her other side. Back straight, pulling her English notes out of her hand, he tries to make her laugh and dangles the notebook between his fingers.
She snorts, reaching for it. “Not.”
“You’re wrinkling your nose.”
Her eyes roll and she peeks to the coming crowds, dropping the notebook half-heartedly. She flashes a lazy half-smile to Jenny; the younger girl waves and Blair’s following Nate, an anxious turn of her mouth. There’s a closeness that spins between them again. It’s not the same and it bothers her sometimes - but then, then, these are girls, growing up backwards and forwards, ending and beginning. She just wishes -
Nah, she thinks, nah, nevermind.
“And you’re annoying,” she mutters.
He’s quiet and she spends too much time, shifting. Her shoulders tense and roll, her mouth turning quietly. She shakes her head and, really, all the same she feels stupid still, pursing her lips.
Dan sighs. “Serena -”
She ducks. “Not angry.”
“Uh-huh.” His fingers graze her wrist, opening against her palm as he ducks closer. His mouth brushes against her shoulder.
Her lips curl and she leans closer, shaking her head. She could go into it, she should; if anything, there’s a sense of openness that she kind of appreciates between them. She’s uncertain, a little scared, but she’ll never tell him. it’s kind of odd, kind of thick in her throat, and these are things that are more than just hard to share.
But it’s growing, you know?
“Miffed,” she says finally. She doesn’t look at him, “I’m miffed. I plan to seek reassurance in -”
“Chocolate?”
He’s grinning and she can’t help herself, her mouth turning in amusement. She kisses him softly, despite the fact that she remembers she’s supposed to be pissed. It’s not that she wants to be. But god, really, Vanessa. The daunting overkill of the other girl holds too many questions still, pieces that she can’t have; she knows he’d answer every single one of them, they’re open, so far, and she likes that. It’s different. It’s new.
Still. Vanessa holds something between them. He might not see it, but she feels it a little too much for liking. It’s not supposed to be like that and that thought, that one, makes her wince at the naivety.
“Stop smiling,” she mutters.
He laughs and tugs her forward, his fingers brushing against her hip. His mouth brushes against her throat. “I’m not smiling.”
“Oh, you’re smiling.”
He laughs again, against her skin. The murmur of sound pushes her to curl against him, between his legs and ducking against his shoulder. She nips at his skin, her teeth tugging gently, and there’s a Serena as he turns them.
“She’s not a bad girl.”
Oh, so she’s obvious now.
Dan’s mouth stays at her throat, slipping to her shoulder. He’s muffled, but his hands curl around her back and smooth against her jacket.
“Really,” he murmurs, “Vanessa’s not a bad girl.”
She nods. Her eyes close and she sighs; it’s for him, she thinks, for him and she should do it. Dan gave her chance and that means too much, more than she could really tell him. God, she thinks, you’re getting sappy.
It just doesn’t mean she’s going to like sucking it up. So she coughs, her mouth turning a little bit. “And I’m allowed to be miffed.”
He laughs. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
Her eyes are a little wide and she’s thinking, god, what is she being paranoid for. His mouth cues in amusement, pressing against her jaw again and then again. She laughs softly, shaking her head and he grins.
“Fine,” he murmurs, “Be miffed.”
She tries to hide her laugh. “I like the word miffed.”
“You’re stranger than me.”
His hand wraps around hers and he picks up her bag, curling their fingers together. They start to walk. It’s the usual now, between the two of them, starting and going places. He’ll never admit to romanticizing everything and she’s right behind him, but they enjoy this and it’s the first time, really, that she looks forward to the small things, that she’s not getting as caught up as before.
“But you like me,” she grins cheekily.
“I like you.” He swings their hands, “And you like me.”
There’s a horn. A couple curses. And she supposes, somehow, she can see why he’s keen on Dartmouth, or why she’d be open to following. It’s too far ahead, she knows, but in the moment, that kind of quiet with him, yeah, she would do it.
Her mouth turns. “Sometimes.”
He laughs.
They’re quiet then and keep to wandering. She murmurs something about coffee. He follows with something about records first and really, she won’t lie, there’s no hesitation anymore. She’s fascinated and thrilled by the change in predictability.
“Hey.”
They stop. Or rather, he stops and she stumbles. She wrinkles her nose at the lack of grace, causing him to laugh again. He steadies her, pulling her forward. His thumb traces over her lip, his knuckles brushing back against her chin and cheek. She looks down and he sighs, stealing a ledge and tugging her between his legs.
His mouth dips against her cheek. “It shouldn’t be awkward.”
“Kind of is.” She looks away.
Dan stays quiet, a loose arm around her waist. She tries not to look at him; the ups, the downs, the amusement - she just thinks about the reassurance, the ample understanding that they keep pushing forward, fast and there.
“I’m sorry.”
Her eyes widen and he’s looking away. She shakes her head, her hands pressing against his face. Her mouth brushes his.
“Don’t be,” she murmurs, “I just -”
He’s quick. “You don’t have to.”
“No, I don’t. But -” She swings her hands to his face, her lips turn and she sighs. She relents for him, not for her, and the strangeness of her selflessness hovers over her. She can try, she thinks, she can try.
“Okay.”
She ignores the burn in her throat, the quick swallow fueling the distraction of his surprise as he looks up at her.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” she shrugs. And then, slowly, “I can’t promise anything.”
Dan’s serious for the moment, mixing concern with something else. The something else peaks hopefully in her mind and she turns her head, ducking. She’s still hiding, still weighting everything that keeps her back. It’s daunting, sometimes, to break old habits and swing into something new.
But she’s here, right, and it is what it is.
The assertion is familiar though, in some respects, calm instead of panicked. She takes a deep breath and kisses him lightly, earning a soft laugh. She’s giving him something and he seems to take some of it, at least, with a charge of understanding.
“You’re cute,” he murmurs.
Serena laughs huskily, shaking her head and punching him lightly in the side. She ducks when he reaches for her, laughing loudly as they swing around.
She’s breathless, spilling boys for his grin and still brand new.
-