built a wall around your heart and dared you to climb in
♥
Title: heard, understood, acknowledged
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
Teaser:I like you, Blair. What's worse is - I think you like me too.
A/N: I can't wait for next week's ep. This fic references some of the stuff we saw on the promos [does that count as spoilery?]. Part 1, most likely [although it certainly could stand alone].
A/N: Novels/Novellas referenced herein: Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov and Love in a Fallen City, Eileen Chang.
{Resistance is thought transformed into feeling.
Change the thought that creates the resistance,
and there is no more resistance.}
~Robert Conklin
+
+
+
His hand on hers is the beginning.
Even though they really started a long time ago, in that hallway, and if not in that hallway then with Georgina or Chuck - any of the random times they came together to help each other out, for all the wrong reasons.
He never helped her because he wanted to make her happy, make her life easier, it was always about Serena. She was only ever cooperating, meeting common goals for the split seconds they had them. She didn't want to be his friend.
His hand on hers is the first time it occurred to either of them that it could happen against their will.
"This is so messed up." she whispers, and she's tired. So very tired. "I gave him up for me - so I can have this life, this career - but I was such a fool for thinking he would wait. I was such a fool for thinking I wouldn't care who he seduced in the meantime."
He nods and doesn't let go.
Even though her voice is harsh and she could change tracks at any time and come after him. Even though she most likely will, if he holds on long enough.
"For once I'm not going to judge, Blair. People in glass houses... I'm living with Serena's obsession of the week, the Humbert Humbert to her Dolores Haze...I still ask how high when she says jump and - there's the six guys after me and the hundred before me and all the wildly interesting, misunderstood, guys she hasn't even met yet."
It's Valentine's day and they don't want to be here. They just don't have any other place to go. "You don't have to - I know, I know you could never trust me. I know you could never like me. You're probably only doing this so I'll do what I can to get your article published..."
"Now who doesn't trust who? Screw the article, or wait - don't screw the article, we both knew you were going to give in eventually. I like you, Blair. What's worse is - I think you like me too."
"No. You don't. I don't!"
The sharpness of her retort is the knife he's been waiting on. He just clinches tighter when she tries to pull away.
He isn't expecting her to listen when he responds with a "stop" as soft as warm butter.
She only gives in because it's been a long night.
His hand on hers is the end to all their bullshit.
"Come home with me." he says, and the fact that it doesn't sound anything at all like a line is proof enough for her - proof enough that, in spite of all her efforts, she's let him in. She wants him there.
Not that she's ready to admit it to anyone but herself. "For what possible reason?"
He smiles, uses the hand he won't let go of to pull her up. "It's the last place anyone will look."
She has four cell phones in her purse - three for a job that ambushed her and one that she only uses to get herself into drama and nights like this. She has two papers due next week and she can't remember the last time she ate. She feels the last two Martinis burning in her gut along with jealousy and disappointment, along with dread and the fear that nothing is ever going to change.
That, more than anything else, leads to her uncharacteristic decision to follow.
+
The loft doesn't look any different from the last time she begrudgingly came here. There isn't a glass out of place, not so much as a dirty plate in the sink. She hasn't met Ben, but he must be as unassuming as Serena makes him out to be.
"I am not a bit surprised that this place has turned into a half-way house. It was bound to happen eventually."
She doesn't argue when he claims that she fits right in. Instead she throws her bag down on the couch and takes off her coat, lays it across the questionable piece of furniture and lays herself on top of it.
"Are you going to be okay?" he asks, like it matters. like she matters, and the question -the fact that he's the only one that cares - is his answer.
"How did I get here?"
He sits on the floor in front of her, twists to look her in the face - eye to eye. "You always do everything the hard way."
This time when he takes her hand she doesn't flinch. It's more familiar. Something she's accepted as something she unfortunately needs.
He doesn't really know what to do with her. Now that she's here. "So - what do you want to watch? Young Victoria or Marie Antoinette? Jenny left them both the last time she was allowed in for a visit."
The last thing she feels like doing is laughing. She manages somehow to find the energy to snark, "That trip wasn't sanctioned. And of course Little J only buys movies that concern ill-prepared monarchy. I'll pass. I should go soon. I have to read Love in a Fallen City by Monday."
She doesn't get up and he only waits a second to - he's across the room sorting through a stack of giant books, flipping the volumes over to look at the titles on their cracked spines. "Here - Modern Chinese Literature. You want me to read it to you, Your Highness?"
He's not kidding.
She lets her eyes drift shut and pretends to be falling asleep when he starts without permission.
"Shanghai was saving daylight, so all the clocks had been set forward one hour, but in the Bai residence they said, "We keep the old time." Their ten o'clock was other people's eleven o'clock. Their singing was behind the beat..."
She keeps up the ruse when he pauses momentarily to pull the blanket from the back of the couch on top of her.
+
The next morning he's gone out for coffee and she meets the new roommate.
Ben is everything she expected. Serious. Tragic. The perfect hapless object of affection for her best friend's endless quest for something real.
The only problem is - he's too real, they all are. The one thing Serena and her will always have in common is their need for fantasy, their tendency to rely on it to make excuses for why reality falls short.
"Just tell Dan that -"
"Tell Dan what?" he asks before she can finish, coming in the door all effortless calm and "nothing is different here" attitude.
"I was supposed to be at work ten minutes ago." She finishes.
"You have another hour." He argues, grabbing her hand to place the warm coffee in it.
She doesn't know if this is going to be a new thing - the touching. She really wishes she hated it enough to do something to stop it. "No - no see, I'm the new Epperly. I caught the worm - now I'm stuck eating it."
He doesn't stand in her way when she heads for the door, just steps back to slide it open for her.
"That metaphor leaves me slightly squeamish."
She smirks, "You're weak, Humphrey. Good day."
She's half way down the hall when he calls out - "Lunch? 1:30?"
Her silence is complete consent.
They both know it.
+
She contacts the guy at Details - only because he shows up on time with something delicious Dorota cooked and her favorite sparkling water. Only because he promises to do it for the rest of the week.
Even though she knows those reasons aren't reason enough and denying her real motivation doesn't change it.
~~~
Title: heard, understood, acknowledged
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
Teaser:I like you, Blair. What's worse is - I think you like me too.
A/N: I can't wait for next week's ep. This fic references some of the stuff we saw on the promos [does that count as spoilery?]. Part 1, most likely [although it certainly could stand alone].
A/N: Novels/Novellas referenced herein: Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov and Love in a Fallen City, Eileen Chang.
{Resistance is thought transformed into feeling.
Change the thought that creates the resistance,
and there is no more resistance.}
~Robert Conklin
+
+
+
His hand on hers is the beginning.
Even though they really started a long time ago, in that hallway, and if not in that hallway then with Georgina or Chuck - any of the random times they came together to help each other out, for all the wrong reasons.
He never helped her because he wanted to make her happy, make her life easier, it was always about Serena. She was only ever cooperating, meeting common goals for the split seconds they had them. She didn't want to be his friend.
His hand on hers is the first time it occurred to either of them that it could happen against their will.
"This is so messed up." she whispers, and she's tired. So very tired. "I gave him up for me - so I can have this life, this career - but I was such a fool for thinking he would wait. I was such a fool for thinking I wouldn't care who he seduced in the meantime."
He nods and doesn't let go.
Even though her voice is harsh and she could change tracks at any time and come after him. Even though she most likely will, if he holds on long enough.
"For once I'm not going to judge, Blair. People in glass houses... I'm living with Serena's obsession of the week, the Humbert Humbert to her Dolores Haze...I still ask how high when she says jump and - there's the six guys after me and the hundred before me and all the wildly interesting, misunderstood, guys she hasn't even met yet."
It's Valentine's day and they don't want to be here. They just don't have any other place to go. "You don't have to - I know, I know you could never trust me. I know you could never like me. You're probably only doing this so I'll do what I can to get your article published..."
"Now who doesn't trust who? Screw the article, or wait - don't screw the article, we both knew you were going to give in eventually. I like you, Blair. What's worse is - I think you like me too."
"No. You don't. I don't!"
The sharpness of her retort is the knife he's been waiting on. He just clinches tighter when she tries to pull away.
He isn't expecting her to listen when he responds with a "stop" as soft as warm butter.
She only gives in because it's been a long night.
His hand on hers is the end to all their bullshit.
"Come home with me." he says, and the fact that it doesn't sound anything at all like a line is proof enough for her - proof enough that, in spite of all her efforts, she's let him in. She wants him there.
Not that she's ready to admit it to anyone but herself. "For what possible reason?"
He smiles, uses the hand he won't let go of to pull her up. "It's the last place anyone will look."
She has four cell phones in her purse - three for a job that ambushed her and one that she only uses to get herself into drama and nights like this. She has two papers due next week and she can't remember the last time she ate. She feels the last two Martinis burning in her gut along with jealousy and disappointment, along with dread and the fear that nothing is ever going to change.
That, more than anything else, leads to her uncharacteristic decision to follow.
+
The loft doesn't look any different from the last time she begrudgingly came here. There isn't a glass out of place, not so much as a dirty plate in the sink. She hasn't met Ben, but he must be as unassuming as Serena makes him out to be.
"I am not a bit surprised that this place has turned into a half-way house. It was bound to happen eventually."
She doesn't argue when he claims that she fits right in. Instead she throws her bag down on the couch and takes off her coat, lays it across the questionable piece of furniture and lays herself on top of it.
"Are you going to be okay?" he asks, like it matters. like she matters, and the question -the fact that he's the only one that cares - is his answer.
"How did I get here?"
He sits on the floor in front of her, twists to look her in the face - eye to eye. "You always do everything the hard way."
This time when he takes her hand she doesn't flinch. It's more familiar. Something she's accepted as something she unfortunately needs.
He doesn't really know what to do with her. Now that she's here. "So - what do you want to watch? Young Victoria or Marie Antoinette? Jenny left them both the last time she was allowed in for a visit."
The last thing she feels like doing is laughing. She manages somehow to find the energy to snark, "That trip wasn't sanctioned. And of course Little J only buys movies that concern ill-prepared monarchy. I'll pass. I should go soon. I have to read Love in a Fallen City by Monday."
She doesn't get up and he only waits a second to - he's across the room sorting through a stack of giant books, flipping the volumes over to look at the titles on their cracked spines. "Here - Modern Chinese Literature. You want me to read it to you, Your Highness?"
He's not kidding.
She lets her eyes drift shut and pretends to be falling asleep when he starts without permission.
"Shanghai was saving daylight, so all the clocks had been set forward one hour, but in the Bai residence they said, "We keep the old time." Their ten o'clock was other people's eleven o'clock. Their singing was behind the beat..."
She keeps up the ruse when he pauses momentarily to pull the blanket from the back of the couch on top of her.
+
The next morning he's gone out for coffee and she meets the new roommate.
Ben is everything she expected. Serious. Tragic. The perfect hapless object of affection for her best friend's endless quest for something real.
The only problem is - he's too real, they all are. The one thing Serena and her will always have in common is their need for fantasy, their tendency to rely on it to make excuses for why reality falls short.
"Just tell Dan that -"
"Tell Dan what?" he asks before she can finish, coming in the door all effortless calm and "nothing is different here" attitude.
"I was supposed to be at work ten minutes ago." She finishes.
"You have another hour." He argues, grabbing her hand to place the warm coffee in it.
She doesn't know if this is going to be a new thing - the touching. She really wishes she hated it enough to do something to stop it. "No - no see, I'm the new Epperly. I caught the worm - now I'm stuck eating it."
He doesn't stand in her way when she heads for the door, just steps back to slide it open for her.
"That metaphor leaves me slightly squeamish."
She smirks, "You're weak, Humphrey. Good day."
She's half way down the hall when he calls out - "Lunch? 1:30?"
Her silence is complete consent.
They both know it.
+
She contacts the guy at Details - only because he shows up on time with something delicious Dorota cooked and her favorite sparkling water. Only because he promises to do it for the rest of the week.
Even though she knows those reasons aren't reason enough and denying her real motivation doesn't change it.
~~~