Gossip Girl Fic: oh, you’re a regular jackie o
oh, you’re a regular jackie o
blair’s voice is dry. “Shoes are worth it.” and when i grow up, i want to be just like her; excuse my insecurities, i’ve really fallen in love. gossip girl. serena. serena/dan. general spoilers. 2512 words, pg.
for saint_renegade. dude, i totally owe you skins fic. *g*
The lunch crowd swallows the café at noon; Dan’s arm is skewed over her shoulders, a quick brush of his lips against her jaw as his attention skirts off to the side. She notices Vanessa’s smile, the passing of the exchange between her and Dan encouraging a draft of tension.
It’s a little silly, she thinks, turning her gaze away. Most of the time, it passes and goes and she laughs at herself. She’s secure. She adores Dan. Their relationship is steady and she’s always excited about the new things she’s starting to discovering about him. It feels like they’re hers, these little habits that seem to surface around the moments they have. And she wants to know more, she wants to be able to connect with him - continue to, she corrects herself.
Dan brushes his mouth against her chin. “You okay?”
She blinks, blushes, and hopes that she’s not caught as she nods. “Yeah,” she says, her hand brushing over his. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
Vanessa is glancing over at the table again, another smile, another look. It’s almost pointed, but she ducks because Serena catches her. Her throat dries and she sighs, shifting closer to Dan.
“Uh-huh.”
She’s being an idiot, she decides, but feigns a tense smile when he turns over at her. She brushes her fingers against his wrist and decides that she needs to get out of here. She’s tense. She’s awkward and she hates feeling like this, twisted into these tight knots. It’s just something that she’s going to have to figure out. She keeps telling herself this.
Her mouth brushes against his jaw and she slides out, grabbing her purse and letting it slope over her shoulder.
“I’ll see you later.”
She hides with a short wave before his response and no excuse.
-
Blair rolls her eyes as soon as she starts to spill, Serena’s hands ringing over the blanket. She sighs and dips forward, trying to regroup her thoughts and sort of reclaim some sense of practicality.
“I’m being an idiot,” she mutters.
“You’re being an idiot.”
Serena snorts. “Thanks.”
“Well, you are.” Blair points out.
Serena stands quickly. It serves as some amusement and Blair is watching her as she starts to pace. She makes these quick turns at the end of the bed, almost trips but her attention starts to break. What she thinking? It’s not supposed to be like this and she worries if she’s over-exaggerating something she knows that they can talk about; they have a strong relationship - they talk and for the first time, for the first time it strikes a genuine chord for her. She doesn’t want to lose this. She knows that it’s going to grate at her and she worries that her one sensible stand of sanity is going to slip because she has no sense of control.
“I just -” She stops, turning to watch her.
Blair’s settled over the bed, on her back and her hands coy with the ends of her dress. But she’s watching her with concern and lacing it with dry amusement. She doesn’t get flustered with these things and it feels like an odd reversal, Blair holding the odd key of sensibility.
“I just - I don’t know how to put it.”
Blair is quiet, the starkness of her silence brief, thin, and almost poignant. She feels herself start to blush and Serena’s almost too lost in the moment. It’s humiliating, she thinks, and uncomfortable and she really feels like she’s fallen off the path somewhere.
Her hands drop as she stops and she leans against the window seat. She turns to watch her friend, who shakes her head.
“You feel like you can’t compare,” Blair murmurs, drifting.
It breaks and Serena finds herself caught off-guard at the leveling vulnerability. For them to be so different, it’s almost a mirror sometimes. But her friend shifts off the bed, reaches for her, curls her fingers around Serena’s wrist.
“It starts to eat at you and you wonder, you wonder if there’s something more, if you can grow into it. If you’ll find something else that’ll set you apart from her.”
She softens, swallowing. “B.”
“I get it,” she shrugs, “And you don’t have to do this to yourself.”
“I know.”
She dips back, pulling her hand away. She doesn’t say much, glancing back at the window and then standing again. Her hand falls slowly into her lap as she resettles on the bed. There’s a large sigh, from her and then Blair, and they sort of drop into an easy fit of amusement, quiet laughs, and a quick glance between each other.
“It isn’t worth it,” her friend murmurs.
“I know,” she says.
There’s peak in their pause and Blair starts to snicker, turning to rest on her stomach as Serena drops back. There’s grin in her laugh and Serena’s eyes close as Blair’s hand brushes against her.
Blair’s voice is dry. “Shoes are worth it.”
“B.”
There’s a laugh.
-
She decides that she’s being completely stupid somewhere between the walk home and the café, detouring in the direction of his place instead.
She loves him; the realization is more than clear - it’s not that it’s ready to come out, it’s more of her being unwilling to leave this be. She’s not going to lose him. She’s not going to skip away from any slips of her confidence.
It’s Jenny that lets her in, a passing smile and a grin. She waves to Dan’s dad too, a sort of awkward and small wave but enough to get her around the kitchen and to the room. She notices them though, even from the turn of the corner. It’s not the laughing, it’s how close the other girl seems to want to be and the sense of boundaries dive far away from Dan’s awareness. Her throat doesn’t dry, but she rolls her shoulder into the frame of the door.
“Hey.” Dan grins, the surprise evident.
Her hand is passing over her phone in her bag, looking for a cover of something to do. She grins back awkwardly and nods to Vanessa. “Hi.”
There’s a odd silence and she feels her discomfort starting to rise. She doesn’t move and there’s a passing of glances between her and Vanessa; it’s the rise of a what are you doing, but she would never dare to question a friendship that is so obviously important to him. And maybe, that’s it - maybe, she’s trying too hard to balance her sacrifices.
But she gives in. “I - I should come back later.”
“No, no -”
Dan nearly launches out of the bed and she almost laughs, the twist of emotions slipping for just a second. But she’s looking back at Vanessa again and feeling really, really guilty about all of this.
“It’s okay,” she fumbles with insistence. “Really. It’s okay. I just wanted to stop by before I met up with Mom. I’ll call you.”
She passes a kiss on his cheek.
-
Bart Bass is this strange anomaly that suddenly rises in her life; welcome and unwelcome, her indecisiveness provides a funny distraction.
But god, he’s boring as hell.
She watches Eric yawn, her mother nod and nod and continue to nod at the direction of the conversation. Chuck is nowhere to be seen and she almost wishes - she’ll eat her words later - that he would’ve come to dinner, if only for the sake of entertainment.
It’s too obvious to reach for her phone.
Her nose wrinkles and she’s trying not to process the fact that there’s a possibility of being related to Chuck. It’s selfish, but she’s hoping her mother’s serial restlessness kicks in because god, talk about stranger days. But it’s a distraction of errors, she keeps telling herself, an amusement that seems to curve her away from the rest of the mess that’s waiting for her later.
“You look miserable, Serena.”
She’s got to give the guy points for effort, but kicks Eric’s leg under the table when he starts to snicker behind his hand.
“Indigestion,” she mutters.
Lily hides a laugh. Eric tries not to grin.
But Bart is oblivious, mostly due to the fact - and Blair uses the pretense of Eleanor swearing that it’s a Bass’ quirk - that she’s got breasts and he has absolutely no idea how to deal with a teenage girl.
“Should check that out,” he tries to say.
“I’ll get on it.”
Her amusement settles for a moment, away from the subject of her insecurities.
-
“Something’s wrong.”
Inevitably, they seem to have these moments where they can pass as a family and Eric and Serena really believe the genuine reaches of their mother. It never stops her from acting in surprise and Serena finds herself looking up, threading her arm through her brother’s.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she blinks.
Lily snorts, tightening the belt of her trench coat. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
Eric laughs and there’s pass of a smile between him and her mother; it’s a little easier, she thinks, and a part of her is still going to regret leaving when she did. But she’s back, you know, and dwelling isn’t supposed to be this heavy. This is exactly what pushed her into trouble in the beginning.
But there’s no answer and Eric spots Dan before her, waiting at the gate. Her brother tugs at her arm and she glances ahead. There’s a spot of blushing and her mother and Eric frame her a little bit.
“He looks worried.” There’s a bit of wistfulness in her mother’s voice, but Serena’s distracted enough to let pass. “And you look like you’re going to bolt.”
She frowns. “I’m not.”
“You’re still doing that thing.”
Eric’s grinning at her. He lets go of her arm and nods as he passes Dan, heading back inside to their place. She doesn’t follow him with a gaze, softening as she comes up to Dan and brushes her fingers against the fence.
Dan licks her lips. “You’re doing that thing.”
She groans. “What thing?”
“The thing with your nose, sweetheart,” Lily murmurs, amused. She breezes by the two of them, a slip of hesitation that never surfaces to attention. “You wrinkle your nose like you’re still five.”
She glares and Dan laughs, reaching for her hand and linking their fingers together. She feels his mouth press against her jaw and they watch her mother walk back into the hotel. She leans forward, ducking her forehead against his shoulder.
He breathes into her hair. “I like your mom.”
“Shut up.” Her lips curl slightly.
But he pulls away and looks down at her, worried and nervous. She softens and she’s trying to keep herself leveled.
“Can we -”
She cuts him off quickly. “Yeah.”
They walk away from the fence, drifting back down the direction where she came form. It’s lazy and early and they manage to work around clumps of people. There’s a coffee shop open, two blocks away with stuff that’s not half bad. But she wants to be away from people from a moment and have him to herself.
She knows he’s waiting for her to start. She owes him this much.
“I - I don’t know how to say it,” she mumbles. “It sort of drops and I’m trying to make sense of it. I’m just - I’m just -”
“Spit it out.” His mouth brushes against her cheek.
She smacks his arm. She keeps herself reasoned for about a second, glancing up at him. But it just falls, half-blurted and awkward. “I’m just jealous.”
He’s trying not to laugh. “Serena.”
She’ll laugh at herself later because her tendency now is just to start and not stop, not think about what she’s actually saying. She’s nervous and open and wanting so badly to give him everything, to be enough, and feels threaten by something that she doesn’t understand. But even threatened is not the right word - she feels a little left out and this is too important to her, the need for certainty threading a longing for a much more permanent confidence.
“You don’t understand,” she starts again, “It’s that she knows you and really knows you and even though I’m so, so excited that I get to see you and discover these things for myself, she’s always just one step ahead. And maybe, she doesn’t mean it. But it feels like she wants me to know that. It - I’m left sometimes feeling like a third wheel - I know you don’t mean it and I’m feeling super silly. It’s not you’re fault. I’m rambling - it’s me.”
“Hey.”
He stops them, cupping her face in between his hands. His palms are warm against her skn and she feels flustered and embarrassed when a flash of concern and guilt rises in his gaze. It shouldn’t be like that, she thinks. She didn’t mean to.
She swallows quietly. “I just - I’m not trying to be distant. I just don’t want to lose you. I feel so selfish when I get like this. But I -”
He softens. “Serena.”
“I can’t,” she finishes, cutting him off again, “I can’t lose you.”
He’s quiet and she’s breathing heavily, more than aware that she’s sort of just blurted a blend between complete nonsense and knots of everything that’s been bugging her. His hands are still pressing against her cheeks and he’s holding her still, watching her carefully.
It’s almost too soft and he’s flustered, shying over the words. “I love you.”
She hears him. She hears him, but it doesn’t completely settle and she’s just staring at him with wide eyes. Her mouth presses thin and she feels her fingers curl around his jacket, this strange sense of amazement rolling through.
She breathes. “Oh.”
And then the smile seems to move out of its own accord, crossing her face as she starts to relax. She laughs a little, slips an oh again and leans closer and against him. Her fingers curling slowly against the back of his neck.
“Yeah,” he breathes.
She laughs again. “Okay.”
“Uh-huh.”
Her hands come around to frame his face and she brushes her mouth over his, then again, and again as she feels that weight she’s been carrying disappear for the moment. Her lips curl and she drops her forehead against his, her fingers drifting back to twist around his jacket.
“Well,” she swallows. “I guess it would be really appropriate if I just tell you that I love you too. Instead of, you know, blurting it out.”
“You could do that too.” He grins. “It would be a moment.”
She laughs. “It would.”
His lips press against her forehead and she sort of smiles, her fingers sliding and skimming his hip. It’s a warm weight, settling over the impractical worries and unease; her vulnerability remains to be a little scary, but she’s learning. They’re both learning and the next step of their relationship levels into a new sense of awareness.
“I love you,” she says.
It’s never just a reassurance.
*
blair’s voice is dry. “Shoes are worth it.” and when i grow up, i want to be just like her; excuse my insecurities, i’ve really fallen in love. gossip girl. serena. serena/dan. general spoilers. 2512 words, pg.
for saint_renegade. dude, i totally owe you skins fic. *g*
The lunch crowd swallows the café at noon; Dan’s arm is skewed over her shoulders, a quick brush of his lips against her jaw as his attention skirts off to the side. She notices Vanessa’s smile, the passing of the exchange between her and Dan encouraging a draft of tension.
It’s a little silly, she thinks, turning her gaze away. Most of the time, it passes and goes and she laughs at herself. She’s secure. She adores Dan. Their relationship is steady and she’s always excited about the new things she’s starting to discovering about him. It feels like they’re hers, these little habits that seem to surface around the moments they have. And she wants to know more, she wants to be able to connect with him - continue to, she corrects herself.
Dan brushes his mouth against her chin. “You okay?”
She blinks, blushes, and hopes that she’s not caught as she nods. “Yeah,” she says, her hand brushing over his. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
Vanessa is glancing over at the table again, another smile, another look. It’s almost pointed, but she ducks because Serena catches her. Her throat dries and she sighs, shifting closer to Dan.
“Uh-huh.”
She’s being an idiot, she decides, but feigns a tense smile when he turns over at her. She brushes her fingers against his wrist and decides that she needs to get out of here. She’s tense. She’s awkward and she hates feeling like this, twisted into these tight knots. It’s just something that she’s going to have to figure out. She keeps telling herself this.
Her mouth brushes against his jaw and she slides out, grabbing her purse and letting it slope over her shoulder.
“I’ll see you later.”
She hides with a short wave before his response and no excuse.
-
Blair rolls her eyes as soon as she starts to spill, Serena’s hands ringing over the blanket. She sighs and dips forward, trying to regroup her thoughts and sort of reclaim some sense of practicality.
“I’m being an idiot,” she mutters.
“You’re being an idiot.”
Serena snorts. “Thanks.”
“Well, you are.” Blair points out.
Serena stands quickly. It serves as some amusement and Blair is watching her as she starts to pace. She makes these quick turns at the end of the bed, almost trips but her attention starts to break. What she thinking? It’s not supposed to be like this and she worries if she’s over-exaggerating something she knows that they can talk about; they have a strong relationship - they talk and for the first time, for the first time it strikes a genuine chord for her. She doesn’t want to lose this. She knows that it’s going to grate at her and she worries that her one sensible stand of sanity is going to slip because she has no sense of control.
“I just -” She stops, turning to watch her.
Blair’s settled over the bed, on her back and her hands coy with the ends of her dress. But she’s watching her with concern and lacing it with dry amusement. She doesn’t get flustered with these things and it feels like an odd reversal, Blair holding the odd key of sensibility.
“I just - I don’t know how to put it.”
Blair is quiet, the starkness of her silence brief, thin, and almost poignant. She feels herself start to blush and Serena’s almost too lost in the moment. It’s humiliating, she thinks, and uncomfortable and she really feels like she’s fallen off the path somewhere.
Her hands drop as she stops and she leans against the window seat. She turns to watch her friend, who shakes her head.
“You feel like you can’t compare,” Blair murmurs, drifting.
It breaks and Serena finds herself caught off-guard at the leveling vulnerability. For them to be so different, it’s almost a mirror sometimes. But her friend shifts off the bed, reaches for her, curls her fingers around Serena’s wrist.
“It starts to eat at you and you wonder, you wonder if there’s something more, if you can grow into it. If you’ll find something else that’ll set you apart from her.”
She softens, swallowing. “B.”
“I get it,” she shrugs, “And you don’t have to do this to yourself.”
“I know.”
She dips back, pulling her hand away. She doesn’t say much, glancing back at the window and then standing again. Her hand falls slowly into her lap as she resettles on the bed. There’s a large sigh, from her and then Blair, and they sort of drop into an easy fit of amusement, quiet laughs, and a quick glance between each other.
“It isn’t worth it,” her friend murmurs.
“I know,” she says.
There’s peak in their pause and Blair starts to snicker, turning to rest on her stomach as Serena drops back. There’s grin in her laugh and Serena’s eyes close as Blair’s hand brushes against her.
Blair’s voice is dry. “Shoes are worth it.”
“B.”
There’s a laugh.
-
She decides that she’s being completely stupid somewhere between the walk home and the café, detouring in the direction of his place instead.
She loves him; the realization is more than clear - it’s not that it’s ready to come out, it’s more of her being unwilling to leave this be. She’s not going to lose him. She’s not going to skip away from any slips of her confidence.
It’s Jenny that lets her in, a passing smile and a grin. She waves to Dan’s dad too, a sort of awkward and small wave but enough to get her around the kitchen and to the room. She notices them though, even from the turn of the corner. It’s not the laughing, it’s how close the other girl seems to want to be and the sense of boundaries dive far away from Dan’s awareness. Her throat doesn’t dry, but she rolls her shoulder into the frame of the door.
“Hey.” Dan grins, the surprise evident.
Her hand is passing over her phone in her bag, looking for a cover of something to do. She grins back awkwardly and nods to Vanessa. “Hi.”
There’s a odd silence and she feels her discomfort starting to rise. She doesn’t move and there’s a passing of glances between her and Vanessa; it’s the rise of a what are you doing, but she would never dare to question a friendship that is so obviously important to him. And maybe, that’s it - maybe, she’s trying too hard to balance her sacrifices.
But she gives in. “I - I should come back later.”
“No, no -”
Dan nearly launches out of the bed and she almost laughs, the twist of emotions slipping for just a second. But she’s looking back at Vanessa again and feeling really, really guilty about all of this.
“It’s okay,” she fumbles with insistence. “Really. It’s okay. I just wanted to stop by before I met up with Mom. I’ll call you.”
She passes a kiss on his cheek.
-
Bart Bass is this strange anomaly that suddenly rises in her life; welcome and unwelcome, her indecisiveness provides a funny distraction.
But god, he’s boring as hell.
She watches Eric yawn, her mother nod and nod and continue to nod at the direction of the conversation. Chuck is nowhere to be seen and she almost wishes - she’ll eat her words later - that he would’ve come to dinner, if only for the sake of entertainment.
It’s too obvious to reach for her phone.
Her nose wrinkles and she’s trying not to process the fact that there’s a possibility of being related to Chuck. It’s selfish, but she’s hoping her mother’s serial restlessness kicks in because god, talk about stranger days. But it’s a distraction of errors, she keeps telling herself, an amusement that seems to curve her away from the rest of the mess that’s waiting for her later.
“You look miserable, Serena.”
She’s got to give the guy points for effort, but kicks Eric’s leg under the table when he starts to snicker behind his hand.
“Indigestion,” she mutters.
Lily hides a laugh. Eric tries not to grin.
But Bart is oblivious, mostly due to the fact - and Blair uses the pretense of Eleanor swearing that it’s a Bass’ quirk - that she’s got breasts and he has absolutely no idea how to deal with a teenage girl.
“Should check that out,” he tries to say.
“I’ll get on it.”
Her amusement settles for a moment, away from the subject of her insecurities.
-
“Something’s wrong.”
Inevitably, they seem to have these moments where they can pass as a family and Eric and Serena really believe the genuine reaches of their mother. It never stops her from acting in surprise and Serena finds herself looking up, threading her arm through her brother’s.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she blinks.
Lily snorts, tightening the belt of her trench coat. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
Eric laughs and there’s pass of a smile between him and her mother; it’s a little easier, she thinks, and a part of her is still going to regret leaving when she did. But she’s back, you know, and dwelling isn’t supposed to be this heavy. This is exactly what pushed her into trouble in the beginning.
But there’s no answer and Eric spots Dan before her, waiting at the gate. Her brother tugs at her arm and she glances ahead. There’s a spot of blushing and her mother and Eric frame her a little bit.
“He looks worried.” There’s a bit of wistfulness in her mother’s voice, but Serena’s distracted enough to let pass. “And you look like you’re going to bolt.”
She frowns. “I’m not.”
“You’re still doing that thing.”
Eric’s grinning at her. He lets go of her arm and nods as he passes Dan, heading back inside to their place. She doesn’t follow him with a gaze, softening as she comes up to Dan and brushes her fingers against the fence.
Dan licks her lips. “You’re doing that thing.”
She groans. “What thing?”
“The thing with your nose, sweetheart,” Lily murmurs, amused. She breezes by the two of them, a slip of hesitation that never surfaces to attention. “You wrinkle your nose like you’re still five.”
She glares and Dan laughs, reaching for her hand and linking their fingers together. She feels his mouth press against her jaw and they watch her mother walk back into the hotel. She leans forward, ducking her forehead against his shoulder.
He breathes into her hair. “I like your mom.”
“Shut up.” Her lips curl slightly.
But he pulls away and looks down at her, worried and nervous. She softens and she’s trying to keep herself leveled.
“Can we -”
She cuts him off quickly. “Yeah.”
They walk away from the fence, drifting back down the direction where she came form. It’s lazy and early and they manage to work around clumps of people. There’s a coffee shop open, two blocks away with stuff that’s not half bad. But she wants to be away from people from a moment and have him to herself.
She knows he’s waiting for her to start. She owes him this much.
“I - I don’t know how to say it,” she mumbles. “It sort of drops and I’m trying to make sense of it. I’m just - I’m just -”
“Spit it out.” His mouth brushes against her cheek.
She smacks his arm. She keeps herself reasoned for about a second, glancing up at him. But it just falls, half-blurted and awkward. “I’m just jealous.”
He’s trying not to laugh. “Serena.”
She’ll laugh at herself later because her tendency now is just to start and not stop, not think about what she’s actually saying. She’s nervous and open and wanting so badly to give him everything, to be enough, and feels threaten by something that she doesn’t understand. But even threatened is not the right word - she feels a little left out and this is too important to her, the need for certainty threading a longing for a much more permanent confidence.
“You don’t understand,” she starts again, “It’s that she knows you and really knows you and even though I’m so, so excited that I get to see you and discover these things for myself, she’s always just one step ahead. And maybe, she doesn’t mean it. But it feels like she wants me to know that. It - I’m left sometimes feeling like a third wheel - I know you don’t mean it and I’m feeling super silly. It’s not you’re fault. I’m rambling - it’s me.”
“Hey.”
He stops them, cupping her face in between his hands. His palms are warm against her skn and she feels flustered and embarrassed when a flash of concern and guilt rises in his gaze. It shouldn’t be like that, she thinks. She didn’t mean to.
She swallows quietly. “I just - I’m not trying to be distant. I just don’t want to lose you. I feel so selfish when I get like this. But I -”
He softens. “Serena.”
“I can’t,” she finishes, cutting him off again, “I can’t lose you.”
He’s quiet and she’s breathing heavily, more than aware that she’s sort of just blurted a blend between complete nonsense and knots of everything that’s been bugging her. His hands are still pressing against her cheeks and he’s holding her still, watching her carefully.
It’s almost too soft and he’s flustered, shying over the words. “I love you.”
She hears him. She hears him, but it doesn’t completely settle and she’s just staring at him with wide eyes. Her mouth presses thin and she feels her fingers curl around his jacket, this strange sense of amazement rolling through.
She breathes. “Oh.”
And then the smile seems to move out of its own accord, crossing her face as she starts to relax. She laughs a little, slips an oh again and leans closer and against him. Her fingers curling slowly against the back of his neck.
“Yeah,” he breathes.
She laughs again. “Okay.”
“Uh-huh.”
Her hands come around to frame his face and she brushes her mouth over his, then again, and again as she feels that weight she’s been carrying disappear for the moment. Her lips curl and she drops her forehead against his, her fingers drifting back to twist around his jacket.
“Well,” she swallows. “I guess it would be really appropriate if I just tell you that I love you too. Instead of, you know, blurting it out.”
“You could do that too.” He grins. “It would be a moment.”
She laughs. “It would.”
His lips press against her forehead and she sort of smiles, her fingers sliding and skimming his hip. It’s a warm weight, settling over the impractical worries and unease; her vulnerability remains to be a little scary, but she’s learning. They’re both learning and the next step of their relationship levels into a new sense of awareness.
“I love you,” she says.
It’s never just a reassurance.
*