neon heart and day glow eyes
I have more ficlets to post. Soon.
For now...
♥
Title: [I knew] much more then than I know now
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing: Dan/Blair
Disclaimer: Gossip Girl, and Dan/Blair, belong to Josh Schwartz. I am only responsible for their (fan)fictional corruption.
Rating: PG-13
Teaser:They establish a friendship the way they establish everything - through force of will, hard work, and a common love of routine.
AN: Still madly in love [again] with GG. D/B is blowing my mind with the possibilities. This fic is weird.
{love your enemies
Just in case your friends turn out to be bastards.}
~ anon
+
+
+
“Listen, Blair.” The message implores.
“How was I supposed to know that you picked this week to give up scheming? I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to convince you that I’m really sorry. I’ve left you like thirty five messages and I - I quit the job, doesn’t that count for something? Meet me on Sunday. Please. We - maybe we weren’t friends…but we can be.”
She hits delete.
Again.
+
She doesn’t go on Sunday. Instead she paints her toenails and watches “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”. It’s not her usual style, not her usual color, but today - she decides - it suits her.
She makes it until noon on Monday before she texts him back, and then all she says is “You were right about the commissary.”
The message he leaves her after that she doesn’t delete.
+
It says:
“Glad you haven’t changed on me completely, Waldorf. I would hate to live in a world where you eat pre-packaged salads and drink canned soda.”
It says:
“Call me.”
+
She doesn’t.
+
She skips lunch and finishes her day by accessorizing a Hollywood starlet who is lucky, and marketable, enough to get both the March cover and a three page spread. She steers carefully around anything the color of lemons.
She fills another hundred or so gift bags for another A-list event and is only a little glum while she does it, only because fighting him for the stapler made the day go faster.
She isn’t surprised when it’s time to go home and he’s waiting for her. It’s not exactly out of character. She’s only confused because this is something he would do for Serena or Vanessa - maybe a lot of other people - none of which are her.
“You really do have a disorder, don’t you? Was “Grandfather Humphrey of the Tragic Ties” as noble as you and Rufus? Do all the men in your family live and die by “doing the right thing?”
She doesn’t stop to say any of this. She just keeps walking, trusting that he will follow.
+
He does.
+
She passes three coffee shops before he falls behind and holds the door open until she turns around and notices. He stops just short of reaching for her arm and pulling her inside. There is a little push to her lower back.
She rolls her eyes, but steps forward.
He buys her a croissant and the boldest roast they have brewed. It’s nowhere near her favorite, the kind she told him about on their first outing, the strong espresso she became hooked on in Paris.
He says, “It will have to do.”
It doesn’t feel so much like concession when he asks about her day again. This time it sounds like he really wants to know.
+
They don’t talk on Tuesday. Or Wednesday.
He brings her lunch on Thursday because he was “in the neighborhood” and she finally calls him on Friday. He’s in class -she knows this because he was complaining about it the day before, so he doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t leave a message.
He calls back an hour later and she’s completely free, but no longer has anything to say. His message says that he knows what she’s doing.
She promises herself that she doesn’t care, that he’s wrong and she isn’t doing anything.
+
There is a party on Saturday. She’s not there for work and he’s not there for Serena. Serena is off with Ben, trying to prove she’s not her mother’s daughter. She hasn’t been home all week, so it must be working.
Dan doesn’t seem that concerned when she mentions it. Blair wonders if this is what her and Chuck look like to other people.
“Is this how Chuck and I seem?”
Dan laughs, “I try not to focus directly on you and Chuck. It’s best if you just avert your eyes when you pass. Or look through some kind of filter, like with an eclipse. I wouldn’t want to burn my retinas.”
“I just mean -“Blair starts, hears herself and stops. She shouldn’t care if anyone else understands it.
“What?”
He genuinely seems to want to hear her finish, so she allows it. “Why do they find it so easy? To fall in love? To fall into bed with people that aren’t us? We cling so tightly. Are we fooling ourselves?”
The shake of his head doesn’t answer any of her questions.
+
The next day she pretends like she didn’t want any, like she never asked.
+
One week turns into two weeks turns into three.
Work, school, parties.
Rinse and repeat.
+
They establish a friendship the way they establish everything - through force of will, hard work, and a common love of routine. Coffee on Monday, lunch on Thursday, and Sunday always finds them somewhere in the city - usually after a leisurely brunch at the restaurant of her choosing.
She likes knowing that he’ll be there when he says he will. She likes knowing that all she has to do to please him is be honest. Honesty, surprisingly enough, isn’t that hard.
“But I don’t want your sister in my city this summer.”
Dan passes her the strawberry jam before she can ask for it, “You’ll be in California.”
She shudders. “Don’t remind me.”
“It is a wonderful opportunity you would be remiss to turn down just because you don’t like the “nouveau riche” or because you find L.A. Fashion week to be “casually garish”.”
“Can’t your sister go there and I can stay here? She’ll fit right in.” Blair puts the scone back on her plate, suddenly without appetite. “Well, she would if she didn’t look like a Cullen half the time. Really - I would be doing her a favor. The sun can’t hurt her…or I don’t know, can it? When was the last time you saw her enter a church or touch a crucifix?”
Dan doesn’t’ rise to the bait, because it takes a lot more than that now for him not to understand her. “Jenny loves garlic.”
“Little J would.” She knows that he trusts her to give in, that he’s probably already told his sister to come - just as soon as she leaves.
“Fine. Waste your summer with her. It’s your life. Vampira will be a poor substitute for me. Same as it ever was.”
She holds her breath until he smiles and hates the fact that she enjoys it when he does.
+
He takes her to the airport. Asks if she has everything - her ticket, her carry-on, her cell phone - like she’s his girlfriend to worry about and get goofy over.
She hugs him before last call like it is true.
+
She doesn’t call him when she gets there safely to remind them both that she isn’t.
+
He calls her every day.
Her summer is laid back and slow paced and filled to the brim with people she doesn’t know, people who don’t know her. It’s loud and bright and beautiful in a completely different way from the UES.
She gets hit on every time she walks in a bar and asked out like she’s Serena Van Der Woodsen.
She turns everyone down.
She does well. She thrives. And when it’s time to go home she has enough connections to insure her immediate future as a “Dictator of Taste”, enough to know that she’s more now - more than she’s ever been before.
Not just Serena’s best friend or Eleanor’s daughter, not just Chuck Bass’ girlfriend.
She runs to the airport when it’s over. Ready to see the man she left behind.
+
That’s Dan.
The only guy she thought about all summer.
+
The text she has waiting for her on touchdown reads:
“Where are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
There was a problem with refueling in Chicago, bad weather they had to fly around just before they reached New York. She writes him back, “Keep your knickers on, Humphrey. Good things come to…”
What he’s doing - sitting on the baggage carrousel with all twelve pieces of her luggage - can only be described as waiting.
+
She doesn’t kiss him. She hugs him and tells him that she will see him later.
He makes clueless look adorable.
She calls Serena from the limo. She tells Chuck in person. That she’s grown up. That she’ll always love him. That she is sorry that he’s not what she needs.
She doesn’t kiss Dan until he opens the door of the loft a day later and seems shocked and immediately concerned to find her soaking wet in jeans.
“What’s wrong? What happened? Were you robbed?”
The laughter bursts from her body, flushing her face and giving her very little choice. “Yes, Dan. I was robbed. But don’t worry - they were nice enough to give me five hundred dollar jeans before taking the Marc Jacobs silk dress I originally put on to come see you in a thunderstorm.”
“In Brooklyn.” He reminds her.
She smirks, hand on her hip. “In Brooklyn.”
He doesn’t seem to know what to do with her happiness. What to do with how close she’s getting. She puts her slightly shaking hands on his stomach though, and he catches on quickly.
“Blair-“
He says her name like he wants her to do exactly what she’s doing.
So she does.
+
She kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him some more.
+
He slowly takes off everything she’s wearing and in the morning her jeans are still damp from where they lay crumpled in the floor overnight.
She sleeps late.
+
The note he writes her while she’s sleeping is the closest thing to a poem she’s ever inspired.
It reads:
“What a world we live in.
A princess wrapped in a poor man’s sheets.
I never could have seen you coming.
I hope you stay.”
+
He’s fallen back to sleep when she wakes up hungry. So she crawls over him, shows herself to the bathroom and writes “I’m not going anywhere” in the steam on the mirror when it finally gets hot enough.
It’s so bizarre and impossible that it’s true. It’s so bizarre and impossible that she wants it to be.
~~end
For now...
♥
Title: [I knew] much more then than I know now
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing: Dan/Blair
Disclaimer: Gossip Girl, and Dan/Blair, belong to Josh Schwartz. I am only responsible for their (fan)fictional corruption.
Rating: PG-13
Teaser:They establish a friendship the way they establish everything - through force of will, hard work, and a common love of routine.
AN: Still madly in love [again] with GG. D/B is blowing my mind with the possibilities. This fic is weird.
{love your enemies
Just in case your friends turn out to be bastards.}
~ anon
+
+
+
“Listen, Blair.” The message implores.
“How was I supposed to know that you picked this week to give up scheming? I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to convince you that I’m really sorry. I’ve left you like thirty five messages and I - I quit the job, doesn’t that count for something? Meet me on Sunday. Please. We - maybe we weren’t friends…but we can be.”
She hits delete.
Again.
+
She doesn’t go on Sunday. Instead she paints her toenails and watches “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”. It’s not her usual style, not her usual color, but today - she decides - it suits her.
She makes it until noon on Monday before she texts him back, and then all she says is “You were right about the commissary.”
The message he leaves her after that she doesn’t delete.
+
It says:
“Glad you haven’t changed on me completely, Waldorf. I would hate to live in a world where you eat pre-packaged salads and drink canned soda.”
It says:
“Call me.”
+
She doesn’t.
+
She skips lunch and finishes her day by accessorizing a Hollywood starlet who is lucky, and marketable, enough to get both the March cover and a three page spread. She steers carefully around anything the color of lemons.
She fills another hundred or so gift bags for another A-list event and is only a little glum while she does it, only because fighting him for the stapler made the day go faster.
She isn’t surprised when it’s time to go home and he’s waiting for her. It’s not exactly out of character. She’s only confused because this is something he would do for Serena or Vanessa - maybe a lot of other people - none of which are her.
“You really do have a disorder, don’t you? Was “Grandfather Humphrey of the Tragic Ties” as noble as you and Rufus? Do all the men in your family live and die by “doing the right thing?”
She doesn’t stop to say any of this. She just keeps walking, trusting that he will follow.
+
He does.
+
She passes three coffee shops before he falls behind and holds the door open until she turns around and notices. He stops just short of reaching for her arm and pulling her inside. There is a little push to her lower back.
She rolls her eyes, but steps forward.
He buys her a croissant and the boldest roast they have brewed. It’s nowhere near her favorite, the kind she told him about on their first outing, the strong espresso she became hooked on in Paris.
He says, “It will have to do.”
It doesn’t feel so much like concession when he asks about her day again. This time it sounds like he really wants to know.
+
They don’t talk on Tuesday. Or Wednesday.
He brings her lunch on Thursday because he was “in the neighborhood” and she finally calls him on Friday. He’s in class -she knows this because he was complaining about it the day before, so he doesn’t answer.
She doesn’t leave a message.
He calls back an hour later and she’s completely free, but no longer has anything to say. His message says that he knows what she’s doing.
She promises herself that she doesn’t care, that he’s wrong and she isn’t doing anything.
+
There is a party on Saturday. She’s not there for work and he’s not there for Serena. Serena is off with Ben, trying to prove she’s not her mother’s daughter. She hasn’t been home all week, so it must be working.
Dan doesn’t seem that concerned when she mentions it. Blair wonders if this is what her and Chuck look like to other people.
“Is this how Chuck and I seem?”
Dan laughs, “I try not to focus directly on you and Chuck. It’s best if you just avert your eyes when you pass. Or look through some kind of filter, like with an eclipse. I wouldn’t want to burn my retinas.”
“I just mean -“Blair starts, hears herself and stops. She shouldn’t care if anyone else understands it.
“What?”
He genuinely seems to want to hear her finish, so she allows it. “Why do they find it so easy? To fall in love? To fall into bed with people that aren’t us? We cling so tightly. Are we fooling ourselves?”
The shake of his head doesn’t answer any of her questions.
+
The next day she pretends like she didn’t want any, like she never asked.
+
One week turns into two weeks turns into three.
Work, school, parties.
Rinse and repeat.
+
They establish a friendship the way they establish everything - through force of will, hard work, and a common love of routine. Coffee on Monday, lunch on Thursday, and Sunday always finds them somewhere in the city - usually after a leisurely brunch at the restaurant of her choosing.
She likes knowing that he’ll be there when he says he will. She likes knowing that all she has to do to please him is be honest. Honesty, surprisingly enough, isn’t that hard.
“But I don’t want your sister in my city this summer.”
Dan passes her the strawberry jam before she can ask for it, “You’ll be in California.”
She shudders. “Don’t remind me.”
“It is a wonderful opportunity you would be remiss to turn down just because you don’t like the “nouveau riche” or because you find L.A. Fashion week to be “casually garish”.”
“Can’t your sister go there and I can stay here? She’ll fit right in.” Blair puts the scone back on her plate, suddenly without appetite. “Well, she would if she didn’t look like a Cullen half the time. Really - I would be doing her a favor. The sun can’t hurt her…or I don’t know, can it? When was the last time you saw her enter a church or touch a crucifix?”
Dan doesn’t’ rise to the bait, because it takes a lot more than that now for him not to understand her. “Jenny loves garlic.”
“Little J would.” She knows that he trusts her to give in, that he’s probably already told his sister to come - just as soon as she leaves.
“Fine. Waste your summer with her. It’s your life. Vampira will be a poor substitute for me. Same as it ever was.”
She holds her breath until he smiles and hates the fact that she enjoys it when he does.
+
He takes her to the airport. Asks if she has everything - her ticket, her carry-on, her cell phone - like she’s his girlfriend to worry about and get goofy over.
She hugs him before last call like it is true.
+
She doesn’t call him when she gets there safely to remind them both that she isn’t.
+
He calls her every day.
Her summer is laid back and slow paced and filled to the brim with people she doesn’t know, people who don’t know her. It’s loud and bright and beautiful in a completely different way from the UES.
She gets hit on every time she walks in a bar and asked out like she’s Serena Van Der Woodsen.
She turns everyone down.
She does well. She thrives. And when it’s time to go home she has enough connections to insure her immediate future as a “Dictator of Taste”, enough to know that she’s more now - more than she’s ever been before.
Not just Serena’s best friend or Eleanor’s daughter, not just Chuck Bass’ girlfriend.
She runs to the airport when it’s over. Ready to see the man she left behind.
+
That’s Dan.
The only guy she thought about all summer.
+
The text she has waiting for her on touchdown reads:
“Where are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
There was a problem with refueling in Chicago, bad weather they had to fly around just before they reached New York. She writes him back, “Keep your knickers on, Humphrey. Good things come to…”
What he’s doing - sitting on the baggage carrousel with all twelve pieces of her luggage - can only be described as waiting.
+
She doesn’t kiss him. She hugs him and tells him that she will see him later.
He makes clueless look adorable.
She calls Serena from the limo. She tells Chuck in person. That she’s grown up. That she’ll always love him. That she is sorry that he’s not what she needs.
She doesn’t kiss Dan until he opens the door of the loft a day later and seems shocked and immediately concerned to find her soaking wet in jeans.
“What’s wrong? What happened? Were you robbed?”
The laughter bursts from her body, flushing her face and giving her very little choice. “Yes, Dan. I was robbed. But don’t worry - they were nice enough to give me five hundred dollar jeans before taking the Marc Jacobs silk dress I originally put on to come see you in a thunderstorm.”
“In Brooklyn.” He reminds her.
She smirks, hand on her hip. “In Brooklyn.”
He doesn’t seem to know what to do with her happiness. What to do with how close she’s getting. She puts her slightly shaking hands on his stomach though, and he catches on quickly.
“Blair-“
He says her name like he wants her to do exactly what she’s doing.
So she does.
+
She kisses him. And kisses him. And kisses him some more.
+
He slowly takes off everything she’s wearing and in the morning her jeans are still damp from where they lay crumpled in the floor overnight.
She sleeps late.
+
The note he writes her while she’s sleeping is the closest thing to a poem she’s ever inspired.
It reads:
“What a world we live in.
A princess wrapped in a poor man’s sheets.
I never could have seen you coming.
I hope you stay.”
+
He’s fallen back to sleep when she wakes up hungry. So she crawls over him, shows herself to the bathroom and writes “I’m not going anywhere” in the steam on the mirror when it finally gets hot enough.
It’s so bizarre and impossible that it’s true. It’s so bizarre and impossible that she wants it to be.
~~end