FIC: Four Times Blair Waldorf Doesn't Go to California (And One She Maybe Does)
Title: Four Times Blair Waldorf Doesn't Go to California (And One She Maybe Does)
Author fivewhatfive
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing/Characters: Blair/Serena, wallpaper!Nate
Words: ~1330
Notes: Thanks to pirateygoodness for looking over this and only torturing me a little.
Summary: Like a roadtrip, only not. Crossover with The OC, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed and Veronica Mars.
i.
"This is nice." Serena brushes some sand off her towel, then looks over and says, "Isn't it?"
Blair makes a noise that isn't really an answer. It's hard to truly seem upset while sunbathing somewhere far enough from, say, Brooklyn, but she's still not entirely sold on Newport's merits.
"I guess."
She closes her eyes and blocks out strangers coming up to Serena, Chuck's voice complaining in the distance about Nate throwing the ball too hard. The sea still murmurs in the background, and while Blair Waldorf is no nature freak, she'll have to admit that yes, it's nice.
Until someone tugs at the strings of her bikini and the knot on her back comes undone.
"Serena!"
Serena smirks. "What? You're gonna get tan lines," she says, absolutely unrepentant.
Blair rolls her eyes and lays her head back down, shifting a little self-consciously. It feels pointless, considering the trashier offspring of Orange County's wealthiest would probably sunbathe on their backs, or given the fact one is basically invisible when this close to Serena van der Woodsen in a bikini.
Still, personal standards.
"Do we really have to go back tomorrow?"
Serena sounds like they've been told to get off the swings. Blair doesn't know why she smiles, really.
"Of course not." Blair lets her eyes fall shut once again, drawing out a sigh. "I'd love to watch you explain our absence at the Shepherd wedding to our respective mothers."
ii.
It's quiet.
And unbelievably creepy, but that's sort of given when one stumbles into a crater that, rumor has it, used to be a whole town.
Blair lowers her sunglasses just enough for her frown to go unobstructed. "Seriously, Serena? This is supposed to cheer me up?"
So much for Yale-inspired sightseeing.
Serena kicks a rock into the crater, watching it roll and roll until it fades out of sight in a trail of dust. Sure, it's nice that, just this once, she is the one trying to do something for Blair, but it doesn't change the fact Serena is now banned from playing Louise ever again.
There's nothing sunny or Ivy worthy about Sunny Yale.
iii.
Five minutes stretch into eternity and Blair is mildly suspicious that Nate is conducting a different type of transaction inside the convenience store than what they originally had in mind.
She rolls her eyes and relaxes behind the steering wheel.
"You're so prejudiced, B. This book is totally not that bad," Serena says, staring at said book like she actually happens to find it really interesting. She's got her legs draped over Blair's lap and, unadvisedly, the hand brake, but at least a flower situation has been avoided.
Blair scoffs. "Please, Phoebe Halliwell writes blatant self-help for hopeless spinsters."
Serena still thumbs through the book, chewing on one of her nails and appearing ridiculously engrossed. Next time Nate and Serena have a Nate-and-Serena idea, they're on their own.
"As if."
Blair jumps a little. If thinking out loud isn't a sign this trip is going nowhere good, she doesn't know what is.
Serena is smiling from the passenger seat, like she thinks any of this is passable. "You know you'd miss us," she says, then buries her nose back in The Power of Three: Confidence, Charm and Care."
Blair lets out a sigh and snatches the book away. "Seriously, Serena. You're the last person on Earth in need of relationship advice." A beat, then reality catches up. "Ugh, never mind."
iv.
She wears Eleanor Waldorf's favorite pair of Dior sunglasses indoors and doesn't give it a second thought. This is a business transaction, the generous amount of cash she slides across the desk makes it clear. Blair doesn't need to take off her sunglasses as much as she needs to tell Veronica to stop staring at her.
"Is there a problem?"
And Veronica sits back, but she's still staring, and it's terribly rude. "No, it's just- You look familiar."
"Oh, I most certainly don't."
Veronica gives her one last look. "I guess you don't," she says, finally, then rests both arms on the desk. "So, can I interest you in the cheapest rat poison one can find disguised as coffee in this neighborhood?"
Blair rises from her chair. "The details are in that file. I've put together everything you could possibly need, so don't bother harassing me unless you actually have something."
"I didn't say I was taking the case."
"Miss Mars." Blair nearly does take off her glasses now, if only to get the point across. Instead, she injects as much derision and matter-of-factness into her voice as she is allowed, conveying what her eyes will not. "I know your type. Smart. Independent. Bitter high school reject," Blair says. "If you really thought you could afford to turn away this case, you would've just turned the sign on the door when you saw my driver pull up."
Veronica does not cower--not that Blair expected her to--and leans over the desk, shooting Blair a knowing look. "Are you trying to woo me?" she says. "Because I don't see a pony anywhere, and that's totally a deal breaker."
Blair sucks in a deep breath, for patience. She will not appear frustrated or desperate. "Just find her." Please find her. She takes another breath, shakier than she would've liked. "I think she's in trouble."
She doesn't think Veronica notices the tear stains on her cheeks.
v.
Terrycloth robes and champagne at the Plaza this is not, but the bedroom is nice enough and mostly free of Carol Rhodes' questionable taste in art. Blair quietly finishes unpacking and gives Serena twenty-four hours of courtesy; refrains from pointing out that Los Angeles is hardly the best place to hide once your jerk of an ex-lover and soon to be ex-Congressman finally faces the music.
Not that Serena will admit she's hiding, of course. Let alone running. No, she's simply enamored with palm trees this time of the year.
"You're mad at me, aren't you?"
Blair flips absently through InStyle's tips for the fashion clueless. "Of course not."
There's no immediate answer, though she can practically hear Serena's twenty-four criticism-free hours ticking down to mere seconds.
And then Serena does speak, "I saw you roll your eyes."
"I find this romper ironic."
"Blair."
She lowers the magazine, annoyance written across her features. "I just don't see why you should be the one to skip town."
"I'm not."
"No, you're just making sure the Bling Ring hasn't burglarized your aunt's empty home."
Serena actually laughs at that, then ducks her head and stares down at her hands. It catches Blair off-guard, the memory--Serena sitting just like this, cross-legged and more interested in her newest nail polish experiment than Blair's account of how her first kiss with Nate had been exactly as expected. And then Serena had just kissed her mid-explanation, staining Blair's top with sticky orange nail polish. "Kisses are no fun when you expect them, B."
"I messed up," Serena--present Serena--says, and when she looks up she's biting her lip, too regretful for Blair to point out that yes, she really did. And yes, she'd only been warned about it five hundred times.
Twenty-four hours of mercy it is.
"Serena..."
"No, it's okay. I know I- it's good to say it." Blair doesn't know who she's trying to convince, but it's not like Serena clings to the subject, anyway. She squeezes Blair's knee and attempts a smile. "Sorry that I dragged you out here with me."
"It's nothing," Blair says, giving a slight shrug. "At least this time you remembered to drop an invitation before disappearing."
And back to seconds.
Serena's not really that upset--that was a quip from a too old arsenal, after all--and rather than firing her own rounds, she just cocks her head and looks contemplative.
"If I'd asked you to come with me," she says. "Would you have?"
Blair flips another page, eyebrow arched and chest tight. "If you had asked, you would've known."
Author fivewhatfive
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing/Characters: Blair/Serena, wallpaper!Nate
Words: ~1330
Notes: Thanks to pirateygoodness for looking over this and only torturing me a little.
Summary: Like a roadtrip, only not. Crossover with The OC, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed and Veronica Mars.
i.
"This is nice." Serena brushes some sand off her towel, then looks over and says, "Isn't it?"
Blair makes a noise that isn't really an answer. It's hard to truly seem upset while sunbathing somewhere far enough from, say, Brooklyn, but she's still not entirely sold on Newport's merits.
"I guess."
She closes her eyes and blocks out strangers coming up to Serena, Chuck's voice complaining in the distance about Nate throwing the ball too hard. The sea still murmurs in the background, and while Blair Waldorf is no nature freak, she'll have to admit that yes, it's nice.
Until someone tugs at the strings of her bikini and the knot on her back comes undone.
"Serena!"
Serena smirks. "What? You're gonna get tan lines," she says, absolutely unrepentant.
Blair rolls her eyes and lays her head back down, shifting a little self-consciously. It feels pointless, considering the trashier offspring of Orange County's wealthiest would probably sunbathe on their backs, or given the fact one is basically invisible when this close to Serena van der Woodsen in a bikini.
Still, personal standards.
"Do we really have to go back tomorrow?"
Serena sounds like they've been told to get off the swings. Blair doesn't know why she smiles, really.
"Of course not." Blair lets her eyes fall shut once again, drawing out a sigh. "I'd love to watch you explain our absence at the Shepherd wedding to our respective mothers."
ii.
It's quiet.
And unbelievably creepy, but that's sort of given when one stumbles into a crater that, rumor has it, used to be a whole town.
Blair lowers her sunglasses just enough for her frown to go unobstructed. "Seriously, Serena? This is supposed to cheer me up?"
So much for Yale-inspired sightseeing.
Serena kicks a rock into the crater, watching it roll and roll until it fades out of sight in a trail of dust. Sure, it's nice that, just this once, she is the one trying to do something for Blair, but it doesn't change the fact Serena is now banned from playing Louise ever again.
There's nothing sunny or Ivy worthy about Sunny Yale.
iii.
Five minutes stretch into eternity and Blair is mildly suspicious that Nate is conducting a different type of transaction inside the convenience store than what they originally had in mind.
She rolls her eyes and relaxes behind the steering wheel.
"You're so prejudiced, B. This book is totally not that bad," Serena says, staring at said book like she actually happens to find it really interesting. She's got her legs draped over Blair's lap and, unadvisedly, the hand brake, but at least a flower situation has been avoided.
Blair scoffs. "Please, Phoebe Halliwell writes blatant self-help for hopeless spinsters."
Serena still thumbs through the book, chewing on one of her nails and appearing ridiculously engrossed. Next time Nate and Serena have a Nate-and-Serena idea, they're on their own.
"As if."
Blair jumps a little. If thinking out loud isn't a sign this trip is going nowhere good, she doesn't know what is.
Serena is smiling from the passenger seat, like she thinks any of this is passable. "You know you'd miss us," she says, then buries her nose back in The Power of Three: Confidence, Charm and Care."
Blair lets out a sigh and snatches the book away. "Seriously, Serena. You're the last person on Earth in need of relationship advice." A beat, then reality catches up. "Ugh, never mind."
iv.
She wears Eleanor Waldorf's favorite pair of Dior sunglasses indoors and doesn't give it a second thought. This is a business transaction, the generous amount of cash she slides across the desk makes it clear. Blair doesn't need to take off her sunglasses as much as she needs to tell Veronica to stop staring at her.
"Is there a problem?"
And Veronica sits back, but she's still staring, and it's terribly rude. "No, it's just- You look familiar."
"Oh, I most certainly don't."
Veronica gives her one last look. "I guess you don't," she says, finally, then rests both arms on the desk. "So, can I interest you in the cheapest rat poison one can find disguised as coffee in this neighborhood?"
Blair rises from her chair. "The details are in that file. I've put together everything you could possibly need, so don't bother harassing me unless you actually have something."
"I didn't say I was taking the case."
"Miss Mars." Blair nearly does take off her glasses now, if only to get the point across. Instead, she injects as much derision and matter-of-factness into her voice as she is allowed, conveying what her eyes will not. "I know your type. Smart. Independent. Bitter high school reject," Blair says. "If you really thought you could afford to turn away this case, you would've just turned the sign on the door when you saw my driver pull up."
Veronica does not cower--not that Blair expected her to--and leans over the desk, shooting Blair a knowing look. "Are you trying to woo me?" she says. "Because I don't see a pony anywhere, and that's totally a deal breaker."
Blair sucks in a deep breath, for patience. She will not appear frustrated or desperate. "Just find her." Please find her. She takes another breath, shakier than she would've liked. "I think she's in trouble."
She doesn't think Veronica notices the tear stains on her cheeks.
v.
Terrycloth robes and champagne at the Plaza this is not, but the bedroom is nice enough and mostly free of Carol Rhodes' questionable taste in art. Blair quietly finishes unpacking and gives Serena twenty-four hours of courtesy; refrains from pointing out that Los Angeles is hardly the best place to hide once your jerk of an ex-lover and soon to be ex-Congressman finally faces the music.
Not that Serena will admit she's hiding, of course. Let alone running. No, she's simply enamored with palm trees this time of the year.
"You're mad at me, aren't you?"
Blair flips absently through InStyle's tips for the fashion clueless. "Of course not."
There's no immediate answer, though she can practically hear Serena's twenty-four criticism-free hours ticking down to mere seconds.
And then Serena does speak, "I saw you roll your eyes."
"I find this romper ironic."
"Blair."
She lowers the magazine, annoyance written across her features. "I just don't see why you should be the one to skip town."
"I'm not."
"No, you're just making sure the Bling Ring hasn't burglarized your aunt's empty home."
Serena actually laughs at that, then ducks her head and stares down at her hands. It catches Blair off-guard, the memory--Serena sitting just like this, cross-legged and more interested in her newest nail polish experiment than Blair's account of how her first kiss with Nate had been exactly as expected. And then Serena had just kissed her mid-explanation, staining Blair's top with sticky orange nail polish. "Kisses are no fun when you expect them, B."
"I messed up," Serena--present Serena--says, and when she looks up she's biting her lip, too regretful for Blair to point out that yes, she really did. And yes, she'd only been warned about it five hundred times.
Twenty-four hours of mercy it is.
"Serena..."
"No, it's okay. I know I- it's good to say it." Blair doesn't know who she's trying to convince, but it's not like Serena clings to the subject, anyway. She squeezes Blair's knee and attempts a smile. "Sorry that I dragged you out here with me."
"It's nothing," Blair says, giving a slight shrug. "At least this time you remembered to drop an invitation before disappearing."
And back to seconds.
Serena's not really that upset--that was a quip from a too old arsenal, after all--and rather than firing her own rounds, she just cocks her head and looks contemplative.
"If I'd asked you to come with me," she says. "Would you have?"
Blair flips another page, eyebrow arched and chest tight. "If you had asked, you would've known."