thank heaven for little girls [PG-13] for the community
Title: thank heaven for little girls
Author: novagirl
Rating: pg-13
Pairing(s): Carter/Georgina, Georgina/Chuck, Chuck/Blair
Word Count: 1307
Disclaimer: Super-nervous about this submission! Hope you enjoy.
Warning(s): (use as necessary) Pre-series.
Author/Artist Note(s): I love pre-the fall Georgina. I would like to explore her further.
Summary: In the future, Georgina will notice that her life occurred on couches.
"There is always one person who you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it always happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people." -Chuck Kolsterman, Killing Yourself to Live.
~*~*~*
Georgina is sitting alone.
Nothing is new.
Nothing has changed.
“No Tiffany’s for you?” Blue eyes peer quickly over the sofa. Carter Baizen is smiling.
Not for long-he steps into the room, where Georgina sits on the sofa alone. Her feet are tucked underneath her legs, and her hound’s-tooth dress occludes them from view. She turns as he moves, and his eyes are blue like hers. Grey like hers, too. Serena calls her eyes blue, but Blair insists they’re grey.
“I didn’t want Tiffany’s,” Blair had wanted Tiffany’s. Serena and Blair have gone upstairs to change. They said they were bored of their dresses. Georgina has her doubts. The parents are out tonight-the children have been entrusted to the Waldorf apartment. So who were they changing for?
He sits down beside her, on top of the hem of her skirt, before she shifts slightly away from him. He picks up the DVD cases.
“Good. What have you here, then…High Society and Gigi.” Leslie Caron is rushing to her first lesson. He pauses the film. Georgina looks at him, and he’s looking at her.
“Gigi,” He repeats, and smiles. Georgina smiles too, but her toes curl over each other inside her stockings. “You know what this movie’s about?”
“Paris and love,” She answers, eleven and sure. The boy smiles for a long moment.
“Close enough.” There is laughter coming down the stairs and it falls into the room, and the boy stands.
Serena beams. “Carter!”
Blair follows close behind, her shoulders farther back than even Georgina’s. (Georgina adjusts.)
“I thought you didn’t like old movies,” Blair says, twelve, but confused.
“I like the good ones,” He says, and as he presses play the arm that holds the remote sweeps decidedly towards the sofa. They sit down. The lesson begins.
And so she learns.
She does learn how to pick a proper cigar-more decisively than Gigi herself ever could-and she has learned more about jewelry from watching the endless parade of Chuck’s women than from walking down Fifth Avenue. Her talent for mimicry grows. And grows more useful, too.
As for Carter Baizen, it’s Serena with the crush on him. Georgina doesn’t mind. He’s so much older, and she feels those dozen years whenever he looks at her. But S’s crush on him enables her. She gets to sit beside her friend in the guise of watching out for her as she watches out for him. She sits stoically behind her sunglasses.
She’s twelve now. The sunglasses now are primarily to hide her eyeliner from her mother. But in just two years they’ll be Constance girls. The stories of Constance are legendary; the sunglasses will become a permanent fixture.
Serena cares more about the St. Jude’s boys.
Blair blames her.
Georgina sure can’t.
But there are a lot of things that Blair just doesn’t get. Like Chuck.
Georgina likes Chuck. She doesn’t like him like shopping, or birthdays, or even Orlando Bloom, but he’s there like she is. It’ll always be Serena and Blair and Nate, and it’ll always be Serena and Georgina. And Nate and Chuck.
They’re chosen, she thinks, as Carter walks right up to them.
Georgina acts on impulse.
“Serena, I think you’re late to see Blair,” Serena looks at her, confused but appeased with a lightly insinuating glance. Of course Serena would assume that she was being dismissed so that they could speak of her. Serena canters off.
They watch. He smirks. She doesn’t.
“Do they know you’re the smart one?”
“They think I’m the funny one.”
“That’s a laugh.”
“Is it now?” She’s not as shy as she used to be. Though sometimes it’s helpful to pretend. It doesn’t fool Carter.
“Yes it is, you’re serious business. At least today. Why?”
She begins their walk away from the other high school students.
She begins to lead him back to the Sparks apartment.
“I need to talk to you about something. I want to…” She raises her eyebrows.
“Most girls do,” Carter grins and she burns hotly. “You didn’t have to ask.”
“No! Not with you!” She’s young and her voice is still high and light. Inconsequential.
“Really? Not with me? Not even a little?” He continues.
“No, really, I mean…You know you’re…”
“I do.” Carter stops her at the intersection of 5th and 82nd, and leads her into a town car instead.
“Georgina Sparks, I’m a sucker for a cause,” He says, crossing his legs towards her.
“But I’d like to know what that cause is.” He reaches for the cigarettes that he keeps in the inside pocket of his blazer. He offers one to her, and lights hers first. She is glad her breaths are shallow.
“I want to do it,” She says.
“Good cause,”
“With Chuck,”
“Bad cause.” He puts up a hand to gesture to the driver-she grabs it down, holds it there with one hand, her cigarette with the other, her eyes pinning his.
“I thought you said the other week that Chuck-”
“Does need to be fucked,” Carter drawls, holding firm. She tries to hold her blush down just as firmly. Blushing was for girls like Blair. Stupid girls like Blair.
“But you don’t need to be fucked by him.” He breathes the smoke in front of her face, and he smiles. She does not let her eyes water.
“Around school? Around the others? I’ve heard the way you talk,” She challenges.
“I want you to hear it. Most people are like me, Georgina, they want to be heard. And they want someone to listen. If you want your first time to be with a twelve year old boy, then you be prepared to listen to that twelve year old boy. And all of his deep, vivid, paisley thoughts.” He turns away from her, breathes ‘Jesus’ to the window. The car rolls to a halt.
“You want that boy? Listen to him.” The chauffeur opens the door, and he slides out first, extending his arm to her instead of his hand.
“But you won’t like what you hear.” He’d known where she lived. She’s oddly touched, if still scathed.
“We’ll see about that.” She’s still standing, and she sees his shadow cross over the pavement oddly. She looks at his reflection in the glass of her door.
His mouth is twisted, his eyes are rolled, but his arm is raised in a salute.
She gives one back.
Three weeks later, she listens to Chuck Bass.
She listens to him talk about Blair. About how beautiful she is. How lovely she is, and kind and sweet and loyal. And about how Nate talks constantly about Serena when Blair’s not around, how she deserves better.
She’s listening, and the young Mr. Bass is stopping his soliloquy to look up at her gaze.
“What?” She is silent for a long moment, looking at those deep brown eyes of his.
Like a true Parisian courtesan, she insinuates herself into the sofa beside him.
“I’m just sorry, that’s all.” She breathes it, and kisses him. He’s going to pull away to say something-she prevents that with her hand in his hair.
Within the hour, Georgina Sparks lays on her back, and pulls the afghan over her body on his couch. She lays still.
“That wasn’t your…It couldn’t have.”
“Was it yours?” She asks, head tilted.
“Of course not,” He says, haughty now. “We’re in the sixth grade, Georgina. We’re not kids.”
The next week at school, all they hear about is her. Serena is impressed now, if skittish. Blair is disgusted. Georgina is disgusted too. By Chuck.
Georgina is sitting alone.
Nothing is new.
Nothing has changed.
“No Tiffany’s for you, huh?” Carter says, quietly, when next he sees her. She shakes her head.
“I didn’t want Tiffany’s.”
“Good.”
They sit alone, together, but not for long enough.
“Good.”
He excuses himself.
She excuses herself.
Until the next time.
gossipwriter is the account the mods use to post gifts, it has not authored or created any of the gifts.
Author: novagirl
Rating: pg-13
Pairing(s): Carter/Georgina, Georgina/Chuck, Chuck/Blair
Word Count: 1307
Disclaimer: Super-nervous about this submission! Hope you enjoy.
Warning(s): (use as necessary) Pre-series.
Author/Artist Note(s): I love pre-the fall Georgina. I would like to explore her further.
Summary: In the future, Georgina will notice that her life occurred on couches.
"There is always one person who you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it always happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people." -Chuck Kolsterman, Killing Yourself to Live.
~*~*~*
Georgina is sitting alone.
Nothing is new.
Nothing has changed.
“No Tiffany’s for you?” Blue eyes peer quickly over the sofa. Carter Baizen is smiling.
Not for long-he steps into the room, where Georgina sits on the sofa alone. Her feet are tucked underneath her legs, and her hound’s-tooth dress occludes them from view. She turns as he moves, and his eyes are blue like hers. Grey like hers, too. Serena calls her eyes blue, but Blair insists they’re grey.
“I didn’t want Tiffany’s,” Blair had wanted Tiffany’s. Serena and Blair have gone upstairs to change. They said they were bored of their dresses. Georgina has her doubts. The parents are out tonight-the children have been entrusted to the Waldorf apartment. So who were they changing for?
He sits down beside her, on top of the hem of her skirt, before she shifts slightly away from him. He picks up the DVD cases.
“Good. What have you here, then…High Society and Gigi.” Leslie Caron is rushing to her first lesson. He pauses the film. Georgina looks at him, and he’s looking at her.
“Gigi,” He repeats, and smiles. Georgina smiles too, but her toes curl over each other inside her stockings. “You know what this movie’s about?”
“Paris and love,” She answers, eleven and sure. The boy smiles for a long moment.
“Close enough.” There is laughter coming down the stairs and it falls into the room, and the boy stands.
Serena beams. “Carter!”
Blair follows close behind, her shoulders farther back than even Georgina’s. (Georgina adjusts.)
“I thought you didn’t like old movies,” Blair says, twelve, but confused.
“I like the good ones,” He says, and as he presses play the arm that holds the remote sweeps decidedly towards the sofa. They sit down. The lesson begins.
And so she learns.
She does learn how to pick a proper cigar-more decisively than Gigi herself ever could-and she has learned more about jewelry from watching the endless parade of Chuck’s women than from walking down Fifth Avenue. Her talent for mimicry grows. And grows more useful, too.
As for Carter Baizen, it’s Serena with the crush on him. Georgina doesn’t mind. He’s so much older, and she feels those dozen years whenever he looks at her. But S’s crush on him enables her. She gets to sit beside her friend in the guise of watching out for her as she watches out for him. She sits stoically behind her sunglasses.
She’s twelve now. The sunglasses now are primarily to hide her eyeliner from her mother. But in just two years they’ll be Constance girls. The stories of Constance are legendary; the sunglasses will become a permanent fixture.
Serena cares more about the St. Jude’s boys.
Blair blames her.
Georgina sure can’t.
But there are a lot of things that Blair just doesn’t get. Like Chuck.
Georgina likes Chuck. She doesn’t like him like shopping, or birthdays, or even Orlando Bloom, but he’s there like she is. It’ll always be Serena and Blair and Nate, and it’ll always be Serena and Georgina. And Nate and Chuck.
They’re chosen, she thinks, as Carter walks right up to them.
Georgina acts on impulse.
“Serena, I think you’re late to see Blair,” Serena looks at her, confused but appeased with a lightly insinuating glance. Of course Serena would assume that she was being dismissed so that they could speak of her. Serena canters off.
They watch. He smirks. She doesn’t.
“Do they know you’re the smart one?”
“They think I’m the funny one.”
“That’s a laugh.”
“Is it now?” She’s not as shy as she used to be. Though sometimes it’s helpful to pretend. It doesn’t fool Carter.
“Yes it is, you’re serious business. At least today. Why?”
She begins their walk away from the other high school students.
She begins to lead him back to the Sparks apartment.
“I need to talk to you about something. I want to…” She raises her eyebrows.
“Most girls do,” Carter grins and she burns hotly. “You didn’t have to ask.”
“No! Not with you!” She’s young and her voice is still high and light. Inconsequential.
“Really? Not with me? Not even a little?” He continues.
“No, really, I mean…You know you’re…”
“I do.” Carter stops her at the intersection of 5th and 82nd, and leads her into a town car instead.
“Georgina Sparks, I’m a sucker for a cause,” He says, crossing his legs towards her.
“But I’d like to know what that cause is.” He reaches for the cigarettes that he keeps in the inside pocket of his blazer. He offers one to her, and lights hers first. She is glad her breaths are shallow.
“I want to do it,” She says.
“Good cause,”
“With Chuck,”
“Bad cause.” He puts up a hand to gesture to the driver-she grabs it down, holds it there with one hand, her cigarette with the other, her eyes pinning his.
“I thought you said the other week that Chuck-”
“Does need to be fucked,” Carter drawls, holding firm. She tries to hold her blush down just as firmly. Blushing was for girls like Blair. Stupid girls like Blair.
“But you don’t need to be fucked by him.” He breathes the smoke in front of her face, and he smiles. She does not let her eyes water.
“Around school? Around the others? I’ve heard the way you talk,” She challenges.
“I want you to hear it. Most people are like me, Georgina, they want to be heard. And they want someone to listen. If you want your first time to be with a twelve year old boy, then you be prepared to listen to that twelve year old boy. And all of his deep, vivid, paisley thoughts.” He turns away from her, breathes ‘Jesus’ to the window. The car rolls to a halt.
“You want that boy? Listen to him.” The chauffeur opens the door, and he slides out first, extending his arm to her instead of his hand.
“But you won’t like what you hear.” He’d known where she lived. She’s oddly touched, if still scathed.
“We’ll see about that.” She’s still standing, and she sees his shadow cross over the pavement oddly. She looks at his reflection in the glass of her door.
His mouth is twisted, his eyes are rolled, but his arm is raised in a salute.
She gives one back.
Three weeks later, she listens to Chuck Bass.
She listens to him talk about Blair. About how beautiful she is. How lovely she is, and kind and sweet and loyal. And about how Nate talks constantly about Serena when Blair’s not around, how she deserves better.
She’s listening, and the young Mr. Bass is stopping his soliloquy to look up at her gaze.
“What?” She is silent for a long moment, looking at those deep brown eyes of his.
Like a true Parisian courtesan, she insinuates herself into the sofa beside him.
“I’m just sorry, that’s all.” She breathes it, and kisses him. He’s going to pull away to say something-she prevents that with her hand in his hair.
Within the hour, Georgina Sparks lays on her back, and pulls the afghan over her body on his couch. She lays still.
“That wasn’t your…It couldn’t have.”
“Was it yours?” She asks, head tilted.
“Of course not,” He says, haughty now. “We’re in the sixth grade, Georgina. We’re not kids.”
The next week at school, all they hear about is her. Serena is impressed now, if skittish. Blair is disgusted. Georgina is disgusted too. By Chuck.
Georgina is sitting alone.
Nothing is new.
Nothing has changed.
“No Tiffany’s for you, huh?” Carter says, quietly, when next he sees her. She shakes her head.
“I didn’t want Tiffany’s.”
“Good.”
They sit alone, together, but not for long enough.
“Good.”
He excuses himself.
She excuses herself.
Until the next time.
gossipwriter is the account the mods use to post gifts, it has not authored or created any of the gifts.