Burn from the Inside: Serena/Blair (Rated Teen) Gossip Girl
Title: Burn from the Inside
Author: Sionnain
Pairing: Blair/Serena
Rating: Teen
AN: Written for sinandmisery in the ggfic_exchange, and I have yet to re-post it. Thanks to E. for the beta :) The title and quote is from the Thea Gilmore song The List.
Summary: Blair learns there are many things you can control, and many things you can't. Serena is somewhere in between.
Burn from the Inside
But the lonely are the prettiest of all, they burn from the inside.
The night before Serena leaves, Blair has a dream that she drowns.
When she wakes up she can't think straight, can't remember what the dream was about, can only think about choking and something dark pulling at her. She twists in her tangled sheets, wrapped vise-like around her body, and picks up her cell on her bedside table. She thinks about calling Serena even though it's two in the morning, practically the middle of the night. Serena will answer the phone, voice heavy with sleep and her natural seductive huskiness (unfair, when Blair thinks she sounds like a balloon rapidly voided of air--she can't even listen to her own voice mail message), and ask what's up. Just like it's two in the afternoon instead of two in the morning. Serena may be forgetful about dates and other things, but she's absolutely the girl you call in the wee hours of the morning to talk about a bad dream.
Maybe we should meet up at the all-night diner, Serena will say with a laugh when Blair tells her about her dream. Blair imagines her friend in bed; blond hair messy and tangled (Blair sleeps every night with her hair neatly pulled back in a ponytail, Serena's spreads across pillows like a wheat field exploded), eyes half-lidded , limbs tangled around sheets that never stay on the bed. Blair's shared a bed with Serena at endless sleepovers through the years, and Serena has always had a problem keeping things tucked in, keeping the sheets in place. Blair wakes up with them wrapped tight around her, too tight, a constricting curl of Egyptian cotton trying to strangle her.
Figures. Even her goddamned blankets are tightly-wound.
I can't meet you now, that's ridiculous, Blair imagines herself saying, because of course that is what she would say, but she's smiling at the idea of it, rushing out in her pajamas to some greasy dinner in the middle of the night. Serena waiting in a fashionable coat and slippers with giant fuzzy giraffes, make-up less and giggling beneath the cool white light of a street lamp.
You know I'd do it, if you wanted, Serena would say, and she'd mean it, and the thought is enough to make Blair loosen the covers and go back to sleep. She'll talk to Serena in the morning. That is the best thing to do, really. Blair appreciates that Serena would take her call in the middle of the night, but Blair doesn't make calls in the middle of the night, and she's certainly not going to start.
The next day, Blair learns that Serena is gone and isn't coming back. She thinks about what would have happened if she'd made that call after all, and wonders if maybe Serena wouldn't have left.
* * *
The year without Serena--Blair thinks of it as something important, like a college essay answer--"The Year Without Serena"--is enlightening. Serena had always been the center of everything, the free-spirited eye in a very carefree storm. Blair watched Serena all the time, noticed the way Serena talked to people, her natural and unquenchable exuberance for life and people and everything else. The way everyone gravitated towards her, the way everyone smiled back at Serena as if her grin were some kind of gift just for them. Sometimes it made Blair tired. She never understood how someone could be so friendly all the time, like a spaniel, and not want to crawl in bed with a trashy novel and a Vicodin. Blair liked social engagements as much as the next girl, but they were exhausting; all sharp-edged and dangerous, like some sword of Damocles swinging like a pendulum above her. Serena never seemed to notice. Blair always figured if anything hung over Serena's head, it was something that would look perfect on her if it happened to fall.
Blair is nothing like Serena. She does not wear clothing that picks up the wind and dances with it, does not favor light fabrics and a sweet scent that smells like raspberries. Blair Waldorf does not rule with Serena's easy charm and genuine sweetness. Her smile seems to invoke thoughts of threats rather than presents, so she doles them out sparingly, if at all. For the first time, Blair appreciates those things about her that are so different from Serena. She feels the threat of the sword more keenly than ever without Serena's presence, and faces each day like a general with marching orders. She is not Serena, and she will not pretend that she is.
Nevertheless, she misses Serena. On Valentines Day, Nate sends her two-dozen blood-red roses and buys her a necklace, delicate silver wrought into the shape of a heart and topped with a diamond. Blair kisses him and is pleased he sent the roses to school (what is the point of having them if not everyone sees them delivered?) and she wears the necklace so the heart charm nestles between the swell of her breasts. She thinks it's trite--really, a heart charm?--but it's jewelry, and the diamond sparkles enough in the February sun to be acceptable. Her friends bring her trinkets and flowers and balloons, stuffed bears with big red bows, candy from expensive downtown boutiques. Blair looks like the most popular girl in school at the end of the day, and she is. She should be thrilled.
She isn't.
Last Valentines Day, Serena had enticed her into skipping school after fourth period. They'd gone to Central Park, where Serena had a "best friend picnic" prepared. There were strawberries and champagne and chocolates that someone had sent Serena's mom, with which Serena had absconded with her mother's full approval. It was New York in February, so Serena had brought along a ridiculous thick fur blanket to sit on and three more to keep warm in. They ate a slice of New York-style pepperoni pizza each with no napkins and Blair had laughed until she cried.
Despite the effusiveness of her classmates and the perfectly acceptable gifts from her handsome boyfriend, Blair is discontent on Valentine's Day, when Serena and her best-friend picnic are just a few pictures on her Facebook that Blair should really delete. After all, what good was a picnic when Serena vanished as fast as their contraband champagne?
Blair would never admit it, though, not to a single soul, not even to Nate. That would be an admission that Blair missed Serena, that roses and diamonds were not as good as a winter's sun and half-cold pizza, eaten in perfect companionship on a three-thousand dollar fur blanket on the grass.
* * *
Their return to friendship after Serena's return is slow, a careful restructuring of the way things were and the way things are. Betrayals are there, just beneath the surface, and their smiles are more guarded, their friendship not quite as easy and free. Blair knows that Serena is sorry about Nate. She can see the desperation for Blair's forgiveness etched in Serena's perfect features, the way in which Serena struggles to rebuild trust.
At first, Blair denies Serena this out of spite. She wants Serena to suffer like she did, wants to see hurt blossom in Serena's wild eyes. It's not just about Nate--oh, that's part of it, sure, but it's the easy part. Blair forgives Serena for Nate long before she forgives her for leaving, not that she ever says anything to that effect. It's easier to let Serena think it's just about Nate, so that is what she does. Blair is not Serena. She does not open her heart to every waif and orphan who straggles by. She is more selective, more guarded, and when she is betrayed it cuts deep, to the bone.
Blair wants to forgive Serena long before she does so. She longs for that easy friendship that existed between them, that bond that knew no stresses or strains. She wants it back and she tries, she does, but it's hard because Blair is who she is, and there are some things that are ingrained too deep to change. Serena knows that. She knows how long Blair can hold a grudge, how long forgiveness can be withheld.
Perhaps that is the reason why, on Valentines Day following Serena's return, she leans over to Blair during fourth period and says with a grin, "Hey, Blair. Wanna cut out early?"
Blair huffs, casts her dark eyes up towards the ceiling. "The Ivy League doesn't like girls who cut class," Blair whispers back, but Serena grins at her and puts her hand on her arm, tugging lightly. Blair feels her resolve slipping. It's been cloudy for six days straight, and this is the first day she's seen the sun in what seems like forever.
"C'mon, Blair. Have a little fun!" Serena's smile is as sunny as the outside, and Blair knows it's working. She knows she's going to say yes, even as she tightens her mouth and looks away with a last admonishment to be quiet, I'm trying to listen.
When class is over, Blair follows Serena, who fairly dances down the street, oblivious to the glances of her many admirers, men and women both. It is not just her beauty that makes everyone stare after her every lilting step. It that pure essence of Serena; something wild and pure, flawed but irrepressibly tempting. Serena will, Blair realizes as she follows (head high, posture perfect, far more sedate than her dancing, twirling friend), leave again. Serena will never be content to stay in one place. She wonders if that boy, Dan--she wonders if he knows this. He will, one day.
I could be nice to him, if it happens. But I probably won't be. Totally not my style.
Blair watches Serena and realizes she has finally forgiven her. It puts a spring in her step, as restrained as it might appear. They are in Central Park, and Blair sees the blankets and the picnic basket and can't help but smile and shake her head. Of course.
"Look! Remember when we did this, last Valentines Day?" Serena grins and throws her arms out, turning in a wide circle, laughing with her head thrown back. Her laugh is free and easy. "This time, though, I had to put a blanket beneath the fur one or else my mom'd kill me. The dry cleaning bill was astronomical! I guess it takes forever to get grass stains out of fur, or something?"
Blair rolls her eyes and sits on the blanket, knees together and legs to the side, while Serena sprawls in Serena-like splendor on the blanket. "Aiee, look! Pizza!" She grins and pushes the basket towards Blair. "And the strawberries! Strawberries, Blair! And I got real chocolate, this year, not even the stuff my mom didn't want. Good stuff." She wriggles her eyebrows enticingly, urging Blair to open the basket.
"Not last year." Blair says, opening the basket and surveying the items with a wrinkled nose. Serena obviously had someone, her doorman probably, deliver everything to the park. But the assemblage of the items therein was all Serena; the pizza was wrapped haphazardly in napkins stained with grease, seeping through to the boxes of chocolate. The strawberries were nearly crushed from the bottle of champagne. Serena had forgotten glasses, of course.
"What?" Serena takes the pizza Blair hands her and begins eating it exuberantly while Blair carefully opens the bottle of champagne. Serena is eating the pizza like she's starving. Blair thinks again that it must be exhausting, to be Serena. She carefully sets everything out, wiping the tops of the chocolate boxes before she deigns to begin eating.
Blair takes a swig out of the bottle of champagne and hands it to Serena. "Not last year," she repeats. "You weren't here, last year. Remember?"
"Oh. Right." Serena takes the bottle and swallows, a little of her exuberance dimmed by Blair's words. She seems hesitant, almost, worried this will turn into something accusatory and painful.
"It's okay," Blair says, setting her pizza aside and going for the chocolate. "You were just being you."
"Yeah." Serena puts the bottle down and eats her pizza. "I guess I was. Just being myself." She smiles at Blair. "You get it. I hoped that you would."
"Doesn't mean I like it, Van Der Woodsen," Blair threatens, pointing at her. "Just that I...you know. I forgive you, okay? Now shut up and open up the strawberries. God, it's freezing out here. You are totally out of your mind, you know." Blair drinks more champagne, and smiles at Serena. Something inside her loosens and relaxes, and she laughs. "I can't believe you forgot the glasses. To go with champagne. Make sure you hire good caterers or you're going to be totally boned."
Serena giggles. "I remembered the champagne, though, didn't I, and isn't that the most important part? Of course, you had to open it because it always makes me scream. Remember that party at Chuck's suite, that one time, when that idiot shook it all up and..."
They eat pizza and chocolate, and laugh, and the weather gets colder and they end up next to each other on the blanket, curling up for warmth in the way of those who are comfortable together, life-long friends. Blair, pleasantly buzzed, looks down as Serena puts her head on Blair's shoulder.
"I miss'd you, Blair," Serena says, slurring the words only slightly. In a few hours the sun will go down, and it will be too cold to stay outside. Serena will go get ready to spend time with Dan--probably at some smoky little bar in the Village that has, beat poets or something--and Blair will go get dressed and go out somewhere nice with Nate. But not right now. They have a little time yet.
"Me too," Blair responds, because it's true, and now it's okay to say things that she wanted to say when she first saw on Gossip Girl that Serena was back, okay to admit that Blair never felt right without her best friend there with her; hosting champagne picnics and dancing in the streets like no one was watching. Blair needs Serena's wildness, her carefree spontaneity, just like Serena needs Blair's calmness and sense of responsibility. She smooths Serena's hair out of her face. Serena's skin beneath Blair's fingers is cold, chilled. Her skin is as smooth as the empty bottle of champagne resting on the blanket. "Don't run away again."
Serena is staring up at Blair. "'Kay," she says, and then, without knowing why, Blair slides her fingers in Serena's mouth. Serena sucks on them, tongue licking soft against Blair's fingers. Blair's not wearing gloves, and Serena's mouth is warm. Blair's breathing is fast, tripping over itself, and her heart is beating like a wild thing in her chest. She doesn't stop. There is a moment stretched between them, pregnant with purpose, and then Blair slides her fingers in and out, again, and again.
Serena straightens, and her hands are on Blair's shoulders, now, and Blair's hands are in Serena's messy blond hair, tangled and yet still somehow perfect. Blair tugs a little and Serena gasps, her eyes wide, and the dark of her pupils widen until they swallow the light in her eyes. Blair kisses her, and Serena tastes like champagne and chocolate, and something else, something spicy and indefinably Serena. Blair's fingers stroke lightly over Serena's neck. She can feel Serena's pulse racing, fast and quick, like a butterfly trapped beneath silk.
Serena kisses like she does everything else; enthusiastic and eager, making small little sounds, whimpering and trying to move closer. Blair tightens her fingers in Serena's hair and uses her body, keeps Serena where she wants her, controls this with subtle moves and gestures of quiet, implacable control. They kiss harder, longer, and it feels good, it feels right, and Blair knows what to do like she's been waiting to do this for years.
Blair rubs her thumb over Serena's pulse, licks at Serena's lips. She pulls back and smiles. Serena's eyes are closed, her mouth is parted slightly. She is leaning forward, seeking more. Blair brushes her fingers over Serena's lips, down her chest, just grazing the tips of Serena's breasts. Serena's fair skin is flushed with red, and warm beneath Blair's fingers. Serena does not move, does not open her eyes. Blair feels a sense of control, but also, of affection. Of knowing that she can take the lead, and Serena will follow with passion and zest. This is how it will be, between them.
Blair takes a strawberry and pushes the bottom of the fruit against Serena's lips. "Hey," Blair says, and she can a slight shake in her own voice, but that's okay.
Serena opens her eyes, heavy-lidded and glazed, and then opens her mouth. She licks at the strawberry seductively. Blair giggles, her laughter sweet and bright and sincere. "Slut."
Serena pouts playfully and pulls away, taking the strawberry with her. "Whatever." She finishes the rest of the fruit with one decisive bite, but Blair can see that Serena's fingers are trembling, a little, and that's good to know. "Tease. You got any more of those?"
Blair hands another strawberry over with no teasing gestures, nothing more sensual than a rub of her thumb over Serena's outstretched fingers. The moment between them, that heady and surprising moment, is over for now.
Blair thinks, however, that has just begun.
Author: Sionnain
Pairing: Blair/Serena
Rating: Teen
AN: Written for sinandmisery in the ggfic_exchange, and I have yet to re-post it. Thanks to E. for the beta :) The title and quote is from the Thea Gilmore song The List.
Summary: Blair learns there are many things you can control, and many things you can't. Serena is somewhere in between.
Burn from the Inside
But the lonely are the prettiest of all, they burn from the inside.
The night before Serena leaves, Blair has a dream that she drowns.
When she wakes up she can't think straight, can't remember what the dream was about, can only think about choking and something dark pulling at her. She twists in her tangled sheets, wrapped vise-like around her body, and picks up her cell on her bedside table. She thinks about calling Serena even though it's two in the morning, practically the middle of the night. Serena will answer the phone, voice heavy with sleep and her natural seductive huskiness (unfair, when Blair thinks she sounds like a balloon rapidly voided of air--she can't even listen to her own voice mail message), and ask what's up. Just like it's two in the afternoon instead of two in the morning. Serena may be forgetful about dates and other things, but she's absolutely the girl you call in the wee hours of the morning to talk about a bad dream.
Maybe we should meet up at the all-night diner, Serena will say with a laugh when Blair tells her about her dream. Blair imagines her friend in bed; blond hair messy and tangled (Blair sleeps every night with her hair neatly pulled back in a ponytail, Serena's spreads across pillows like a wheat field exploded), eyes half-lidded , limbs tangled around sheets that never stay on the bed. Blair's shared a bed with Serena at endless sleepovers through the years, and Serena has always had a problem keeping things tucked in, keeping the sheets in place. Blair wakes up with them wrapped tight around her, too tight, a constricting curl of Egyptian cotton trying to strangle her.
Figures. Even her goddamned blankets are tightly-wound.
I can't meet you now, that's ridiculous, Blair imagines herself saying, because of course that is what she would say, but she's smiling at the idea of it, rushing out in her pajamas to some greasy dinner in the middle of the night. Serena waiting in a fashionable coat and slippers with giant fuzzy giraffes, make-up less and giggling beneath the cool white light of a street lamp.
You know I'd do it, if you wanted, Serena would say, and she'd mean it, and the thought is enough to make Blair loosen the covers and go back to sleep. She'll talk to Serena in the morning. That is the best thing to do, really. Blair appreciates that Serena would take her call in the middle of the night, but Blair doesn't make calls in the middle of the night, and she's certainly not going to start.
The next day, Blair learns that Serena is gone and isn't coming back. She thinks about what would have happened if she'd made that call after all, and wonders if maybe Serena wouldn't have left.
* * *
The year without Serena--Blair thinks of it as something important, like a college essay answer--"The Year Without Serena"--is enlightening. Serena had always been the center of everything, the free-spirited eye in a very carefree storm. Blair watched Serena all the time, noticed the way Serena talked to people, her natural and unquenchable exuberance for life and people and everything else. The way everyone gravitated towards her, the way everyone smiled back at Serena as if her grin were some kind of gift just for them. Sometimes it made Blair tired. She never understood how someone could be so friendly all the time, like a spaniel, and not want to crawl in bed with a trashy novel and a Vicodin. Blair liked social engagements as much as the next girl, but they were exhausting; all sharp-edged and dangerous, like some sword of Damocles swinging like a pendulum above her. Serena never seemed to notice. Blair always figured if anything hung over Serena's head, it was something that would look perfect on her if it happened to fall.
Blair is nothing like Serena. She does not wear clothing that picks up the wind and dances with it, does not favor light fabrics and a sweet scent that smells like raspberries. Blair Waldorf does not rule with Serena's easy charm and genuine sweetness. Her smile seems to invoke thoughts of threats rather than presents, so she doles them out sparingly, if at all. For the first time, Blair appreciates those things about her that are so different from Serena. She feels the threat of the sword more keenly than ever without Serena's presence, and faces each day like a general with marching orders. She is not Serena, and she will not pretend that she is.
Nevertheless, she misses Serena. On Valentines Day, Nate sends her two-dozen blood-red roses and buys her a necklace, delicate silver wrought into the shape of a heart and topped with a diamond. Blair kisses him and is pleased he sent the roses to school (what is the point of having them if not everyone sees them delivered?) and she wears the necklace so the heart charm nestles between the swell of her breasts. She thinks it's trite--really, a heart charm?--but it's jewelry, and the diamond sparkles enough in the February sun to be acceptable. Her friends bring her trinkets and flowers and balloons, stuffed bears with big red bows, candy from expensive downtown boutiques. Blair looks like the most popular girl in school at the end of the day, and she is. She should be thrilled.
She isn't.
Last Valentines Day, Serena had enticed her into skipping school after fourth period. They'd gone to Central Park, where Serena had a "best friend picnic" prepared. There were strawberries and champagne and chocolates that someone had sent Serena's mom, with which Serena had absconded with her mother's full approval. It was New York in February, so Serena had brought along a ridiculous thick fur blanket to sit on and three more to keep warm in. They ate a slice of New York-style pepperoni pizza each with no napkins and Blair had laughed until she cried.
Despite the effusiveness of her classmates and the perfectly acceptable gifts from her handsome boyfriend, Blair is discontent on Valentine's Day, when Serena and her best-friend picnic are just a few pictures on her Facebook that Blair should really delete. After all, what good was a picnic when Serena vanished as fast as their contraband champagne?
Blair would never admit it, though, not to a single soul, not even to Nate. That would be an admission that Blair missed Serena, that roses and diamonds were not as good as a winter's sun and half-cold pizza, eaten in perfect companionship on a three-thousand dollar fur blanket on the grass.
* * *
Their return to friendship after Serena's return is slow, a careful restructuring of the way things were and the way things are. Betrayals are there, just beneath the surface, and their smiles are more guarded, their friendship not quite as easy and free. Blair knows that Serena is sorry about Nate. She can see the desperation for Blair's forgiveness etched in Serena's perfect features, the way in which Serena struggles to rebuild trust.
At first, Blair denies Serena this out of spite. She wants Serena to suffer like she did, wants to see hurt blossom in Serena's wild eyes. It's not just about Nate--oh, that's part of it, sure, but it's the easy part. Blair forgives Serena for Nate long before she forgives her for leaving, not that she ever says anything to that effect. It's easier to let Serena think it's just about Nate, so that is what she does. Blair is not Serena. She does not open her heart to every waif and orphan who straggles by. She is more selective, more guarded, and when she is betrayed it cuts deep, to the bone.
Blair wants to forgive Serena long before she does so. She longs for that easy friendship that existed between them, that bond that knew no stresses or strains. She wants it back and she tries, she does, but it's hard because Blair is who she is, and there are some things that are ingrained too deep to change. Serena knows that. She knows how long Blair can hold a grudge, how long forgiveness can be withheld.
Perhaps that is the reason why, on Valentines Day following Serena's return, she leans over to Blair during fourth period and says with a grin, "Hey, Blair. Wanna cut out early?"
Blair huffs, casts her dark eyes up towards the ceiling. "The Ivy League doesn't like girls who cut class," Blair whispers back, but Serena grins at her and puts her hand on her arm, tugging lightly. Blair feels her resolve slipping. It's been cloudy for six days straight, and this is the first day she's seen the sun in what seems like forever.
"C'mon, Blair. Have a little fun!" Serena's smile is as sunny as the outside, and Blair knows it's working. She knows she's going to say yes, even as she tightens her mouth and looks away with a last admonishment to be quiet, I'm trying to listen.
When class is over, Blair follows Serena, who fairly dances down the street, oblivious to the glances of her many admirers, men and women both. It is not just her beauty that makes everyone stare after her every lilting step. It that pure essence of Serena; something wild and pure, flawed but irrepressibly tempting. Serena will, Blair realizes as she follows (head high, posture perfect, far more sedate than her dancing, twirling friend), leave again. Serena will never be content to stay in one place. She wonders if that boy, Dan--she wonders if he knows this. He will, one day.
I could be nice to him, if it happens. But I probably won't be. Totally not my style.
Blair watches Serena and realizes she has finally forgiven her. It puts a spring in her step, as restrained as it might appear. They are in Central Park, and Blair sees the blankets and the picnic basket and can't help but smile and shake her head. Of course.
"Look! Remember when we did this, last Valentines Day?" Serena grins and throws her arms out, turning in a wide circle, laughing with her head thrown back. Her laugh is free and easy. "This time, though, I had to put a blanket beneath the fur one or else my mom'd kill me. The dry cleaning bill was astronomical! I guess it takes forever to get grass stains out of fur, or something?"
Blair rolls her eyes and sits on the blanket, knees together and legs to the side, while Serena sprawls in Serena-like splendor on the blanket. "Aiee, look! Pizza!" She grins and pushes the basket towards Blair. "And the strawberries! Strawberries, Blair! And I got real chocolate, this year, not even the stuff my mom didn't want. Good stuff." She wriggles her eyebrows enticingly, urging Blair to open the basket.
"Not last year." Blair says, opening the basket and surveying the items with a wrinkled nose. Serena obviously had someone, her doorman probably, deliver everything to the park. But the assemblage of the items therein was all Serena; the pizza was wrapped haphazardly in napkins stained with grease, seeping through to the boxes of chocolate. The strawberries were nearly crushed from the bottle of champagne. Serena had forgotten glasses, of course.
"What?" Serena takes the pizza Blair hands her and begins eating it exuberantly while Blair carefully opens the bottle of champagne. Serena is eating the pizza like she's starving. Blair thinks again that it must be exhausting, to be Serena. She carefully sets everything out, wiping the tops of the chocolate boxes before she deigns to begin eating.
Blair takes a swig out of the bottle of champagne and hands it to Serena. "Not last year," she repeats. "You weren't here, last year. Remember?"
"Oh. Right." Serena takes the bottle and swallows, a little of her exuberance dimmed by Blair's words. She seems hesitant, almost, worried this will turn into something accusatory and painful.
"It's okay," Blair says, setting her pizza aside and going for the chocolate. "You were just being you."
"Yeah." Serena puts the bottle down and eats her pizza. "I guess I was. Just being myself." She smiles at Blair. "You get it. I hoped that you would."
"Doesn't mean I like it, Van Der Woodsen," Blair threatens, pointing at her. "Just that I...you know. I forgive you, okay? Now shut up and open up the strawberries. God, it's freezing out here. You are totally out of your mind, you know." Blair drinks more champagne, and smiles at Serena. Something inside her loosens and relaxes, and she laughs. "I can't believe you forgot the glasses. To go with champagne. Make sure you hire good caterers or you're going to be totally boned."
Serena giggles. "I remembered the champagne, though, didn't I, and isn't that the most important part? Of course, you had to open it because it always makes me scream. Remember that party at Chuck's suite, that one time, when that idiot shook it all up and..."
They eat pizza and chocolate, and laugh, and the weather gets colder and they end up next to each other on the blanket, curling up for warmth in the way of those who are comfortable together, life-long friends. Blair, pleasantly buzzed, looks down as Serena puts her head on Blair's shoulder.
"I miss'd you, Blair," Serena says, slurring the words only slightly. In a few hours the sun will go down, and it will be too cold to stay outside. Serena will go get ready to spend time with Dan--probably at some smoky little bar in the Village that has, beat poets or something--and Blair will go get dressed and go out somewhere nice with Nate. But not right now. They have a little time yet.
"Me too," Blair responds, because it's true, and now it's okay to say things that she wanted to say when she first saw on Gossip Girl that Serena was back, okay to admit that Blair never felt right without her best friend there with her; hosting champagne picnics and dancing in the streets like no one was watching. Blair needs Serena's wildness, her carefree spontaneity, just like Serena needs Blair's calmness and sense of responsibility. She smooths Serena's hair out of her face. Serena's skin beneath Blair's fingers is cold, chilled. Her skin is as smooth as the empty bottle of champagne resting on the blanket. "Don't run away again."
Serena is staring up at Blair. "'Kay," she says, and then, without knowing why, Blair slides her fingers in Serena's mouth. Serena sucks on them, tongue licking soft against Blair's fingers. Blair's not wearing gloves, and Serena's mouth is warm. Blair's breathing is fast, tripping over itself, and her heart is beating like a wild thing in her chest. She doesn't stop. There is a moment stretched between them, pregnant with purpose, and then Blair slides her fingers in and out, again, and again.
Serena straightens, and her hands are on Blair's shoulders, now, and Blair's hands are in Serena's messy blond hair, tangled and yet still somehow perfect. Blair tugs a little and Serena gasps, her eyes wide, and the dark of her pupils widen until they swallow the light in her eyes. Blair kisses her, and Serena tastes like champagne and chocolate, and something else, something spicy and indefinably Serena. Blair's fingers stroke lightly over Serena's neck. She can feel Serena's pulse racing, fast and quick, like a butterfly trapped beneath silk.
Serena kisses like she does everything else; enthusiastic and eager, making small little sounds, whimpering and trying to move closer. Blair tightens her fingers in Serena's hair and uses her body, keeps Serena where she wants her, controls this with subtle moves and gestures of quiet, implacable control. They kiss harder, longer, and it feels good, it feels right, and Blair knows what to do like she's been waiting to do this for years.
Blair rubs her thumb over Serena's pulse, licks at Serena's lips. She pulls back and smiles. Serena's eyes are closed, her mouth is parted slightly. She is leaning forward, seeking more. Blair brushes her fingers over Serena's lips, down her chest, just grazing the tips of Serena's breasts. Serena's fair skin is flushed with red, and warm beneath Blair's fingers. Serena does not move, does not open her eyes. Blair feels a sense of control, but also, of affection. Of knowing that she can take the lead, and Serena will follow with passion and zest. This is how it will be, between them.
Blair takes a strawberry and pushes the bottom of the fruit against Serena's lips. "Hey," Blair says, and she can a slight shake in her own voice, but that's okay.
Serena opens her eyes, heavy-lidded and glazed, and then opens her mouth. She licks at the strawberry seductively. Blair giggles, her laughter sweet and bright and sincere. "Slut."
Serena pouts playfully and pulls away, taking the strawberry with her. "Whatever." She finishes the rest of the fruit with one decisive bite, but Blair can see that Serena's fingers are trembling, a little, and that's good to know. "Tease. You got any more of those?"
Blair hands another strawberry over with no teasing gestures, nothing more sensual than a rub of her thumb over Serena's outstretched fingers. The moment between them, that heady and surprising moment, is over for now.
Blair thinks, however, that has just begun.