Pairing: Dan Humphrey/Blair Waldorf
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: a very short collection of vignettes.
I have shipped for these two since season one of Gossip Girl but in my stories, I always write these two as best friends. Thank you SO MUCH to the lovely abvj for helping me through this. I always get nervous writing new couples.
They sit in the coffee shop a few blocks away from his apartment a few mornings later.
He’s reading the newspaper, black ink on his fingertips, and she’s across from him at the small round table, reading an autobiography of Ernest Hemingway that she had snatched from his bookshelf. Cups of coffee are between them as well as a shared blueberry muffin. They don’t speak or look at one another as they concentrate on their own words in rows before them.
Her legs are crossed under the table and the toe of the high heeled shoe rests against his leg. He moves it a little closer to her. They still don’t look at each other and she reaches for a crumb of muffin as he sips at his coffee and they continue reading.
“I think I hate Ernest Hemingway,” she suddenly declares, slapping the book shut.
He smiles, lifting his head to look at her. “As a writer or as a person?” Amused, he takes the book back from her and leans back in his seat, flipping through the pages quickly.
“As a person.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “And as a writer.”
He’s grinning now, almost laughing, and without a word, he pulls the Arts section from the newspaper and hands it to her. She smiles at him and they resume their silent reading. Her foot mindlessly begins to rub against his leg and he doesn’t think about it as he naturally reaches a hand out and rests it over hers on the table, his finger rubbing back and forth across her pale, smooth skin.
He leaves behind a smudge of black ink. She doesn’t seem to mind.
When he kisses her, it’s soft and it’s sweet and it’s the complete opposite of how Chuck used to kiss her. Chuck’s kisses were purely for dominance, an endless war raging between the two to prove that one had more power than the other. They were passionate, yes, but there was anger there too and it left her broken and drained and exhausted.
But when he kisses her, he cradles her face and his hands are in her hair and this is the kind of kiss she’s always wanted. He kisses her like she means something to him – not like kissing her and being with her is a chore or a burden (Nate) and not like he’s superior to her and her giving into him makes her weak (Chuck).
No, when he kisses her, it’s because he wants to with no hidden agenda or motive. When he kisses her, he’s perfectly content with just kissing her while laying on her bed or his couch, their legs tangled together – his blue-jean encased thigh rubbing against her bare one. His mouth opens against hers and she welcomes the feeling of his tongue, warm and almost hesitant as it traces the contours of her mouth, exploring it like a mysterious cave that he is trying to memorize.
There are split seconds where she wonders if he’s thinking of Serena or Vanessa or someone else she doesn’t know about but then he will murmur her name as if he’s reading her thoughts and she smiles against his lips before she runs her fingers through his dark floppy hair and kisses him back with equal fervor, murmuring “Dan” in return.
She feels him smile.
Sometimes, he catches himself looking at her. When they are at the coffee shop, reading, or in her bedroom, studying, or they’re at his loft, curled up on the couch, eating take-out and watching old movies together. Sometimes, he catches himself just looking at her, watching her, wondering if he’ll ever have her completely figured out though he already knows that he never will. He used to think he had her pegged – the scheming and ruthless snobby bitch and he never understood why Serena was friends with her. But then there are these moments that are becoming more and more frequent when he sees her, the real her she always seems so desperate to hide. She knows dozens of people but he knows that none of them know her. Not this version of her. He’ll be selfish enough to call this version of her all his.
“You’re being weird, Humphrey,” she says and he realizes that she’s paused the movie. She then smiles unsurely as he keeps looking at her. “What?” She laughs, somewhat confused with his behavior.
He then smiles himself and shakes his head, resting his arm around her shoulders.
“I’m just glad you’re here,” he says, grabbing the remote and beginning to play the movie again. This time, he feels her looking at him and from the corner of his eye he notes the faint blush on her cheeks. He keeps smiling. He likes to think that he’s the first one to actually make Blair Waldorf blush. Maybe it’s only his Blair that blushes.
And he wouldn’t want this Blair to be anywhere else except with him.