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NEW YORK: LAGUARDIA.
They use his credit card to get some supplies at one of the airport stores. She can't believe she's actually shopping at the airport but thank god that LaGaurdia has an Hermes boutique and she promises him that she'll pay him back as she grabs a pair of dark glasses and a scarf. Dan comes up behind her and tell her he’s found a place that sells clothes. It's a not even a brand store. Blair sets her chin and follows him out. As she’s paying, still with Dan's credit card, she asks for the biggest shopping bag they have and it takes some effort to stuff her dress in after but she manages. Dan doesn't have to worry about his outfit so much but her dress is—she feels like she's choking in it. When she exits the ladies she's no longer dressed in pristine ivory, her head band-crown tucked into the folds of her dress. Her shoes don't match the, oh god she can't believe it, off the rack outfit she put together. Too white against her pink and grey ensemble, and oh god leggings, kill her now, but Dan's waving something in his hands. Black flats. Blair snatches them from his grip and shoves her heels in the bag. She can finally breathe.
NEW YORK: MANHATTAN. BROOKLYN.
Couple things happened before the airport though:
"I need to make a stop."
"Just tell me where to, Blair."
She has Dan stop at her penthouse and his loft. They only grabbed one item from each place. Passports.
NEW YORK: LAGUARDIA.
For a second when that nosy girl corners her, she thinks about going back, instead: "We're decoys!"
Dan says nothing, only tilts his head towards her with a smile. It's what makes her decide not to go back. She's in the middle of an airport in her wedding gown with Dan Humphery and everything else feels like too much. This is just enough. Dan doesn't say anything. He just lets her lead him along. Blair can't stop to think what everything means and when that annoying brat leaves she digs her hand into his pockets.
"I need your credit card," she says.
He just nods, holding her hands, and pulls his wallet out for her; let's her pull him along, after. Her dress trails behind them, rumpled and no longer perfect.
Once she leaves the bathroom, twenty minutes later, no longer a bride, she shoves the bag at him. Dan shifts it in his arms. "Hell of a carry on."
She slips her feet into the flats. "Shut up and let's go."
They walk to the gate in silence. The tickets are getting crushed in Blair's hand. All she can think about is: escape.
"Blair," he says as they settle in their seats. They've just reached cruising altitude. It's First Class, of course, and the flight attendants are passing juice and water. Blair asks for champagne and downs it. "What are we doing?"
Looking out the window, Blair watches the Manhattan skyline fall back. She sinks into her seat.
"Humphrey, I didn't know you suddenly turned deaf." Blair signals the attendant for another drink. "We land in Paris in six short hours."
"You know that's not what I mean," he says, sips at his juice.
Her champagne arrives and she doesn't answer him. Dan pours half her champagne into his juice, she scrunches her nose, and he asks for new drink for her.
When the captain turns off the fasten seat belt sign she touches his arm.
"Thanks, Dan."
Dan covers her fingers with his. "I promised, didn't I?"
He falls asleep two hours in. As he snores Blair slips of her rings off and tucks them into his jacket. She’s doesn’t need them anymore. Dan doesn't wake. Blair watches his profile and then reaches overhead to turn off their seat's lights. She tucks a blanket around him and then wraps herself in another. She slips her shoes off and curls up in her seat.
She thinks about Paris.
She met Louis in Paris. They won't be staying in Paris.
Dan snorts in his sleep and Blair closes her eyes. At least she's won't be alone.
FRANCE: PARIS. CHARLES DE GAULLE.
Dan rocks back on his heels as he watches her fill out the form for FedEx. She has his credit card, again, in her hand and the plastic bites into her palm as she watches the bag holding her dress get shipped away. Her mother won't be happy to receive the package but it won't get there for days, maybe a week. Blair didn't overnight it.
They don't stay in Paris.
Her dad and Roman are still back in New York and Blair knows how these things works. They'll probably be there trying to find her for the next two days until one of Chuck's connections informs them that she left the country. Then he'll be on a plane with Serena and maybe even Nate to save her, to bring her back, to win her over.
She doesn't want any of that. She's just want to be gone. Chuck disappeared for a whole summer. Serena left her behind for a year. Blair can leave them behind too. At least, that's what she tells herself. She knows it's more complicated than that.
Unsurprisingly, she doesn't even consider Louis. He was never meant to last anyway, if she's honest.
Blair taps her fingernail against Dan's credit card and turns to him.
"What now?" Dan asks. She's happy that he understands they won't be staying in Paris.
Blair takes Dan to Lyon. They take the train. It'll take two hours and they have twenty minutes to spare. Dan buys a book and Blair fills her arms with French Vogue. When Dan goes to the bathroom before they leave she sneaks back into the bookstore and grabs a copy of his book, translated in French. Sticks it in the Longchamps travel bag she picked up after customs. Dan doesn't find out about the book.
FRANCE: LYON.
It's there in a room she doesn't even really like, with Cat on her lap, she calls her mother and Serena, then she calls Louis, hangs up, and finally dials Chuck's number two times before she decides not to call him at all. Her mom and Serena ask her where she is. She says nothing. Serena asks her if she knows where Dan is. Blair doesn't answer. Her silence tells Serena everything. Serena doesn't ask anything else.
Once the calls are done she pads downstairs, Cat a little grey ghost at her side, to the kitchen where Dan is trying to make some coffee. He's failing, of course.
He looks up as she hovers in the door. He's wearing one of Roman's thick jumpers and her dad's pants. Blair rolls her eyes at him. "I thought you knew how work a coffee marker."
Dan narrows his eyes at her. "This isn't a coffee marker. This is some sort of death machine."
She scoffs, walks across the imported tile floors, and pushes him aside. He leans against the counter and watches her turn knobs and handles like a pro. In minutes they have two cappuccinos.
"Blair Waldorf, barista. I could see it."
"I hope that coffee burns your tongue."
He smirks.
She grins sweetly.
He doesn't ask about New York. Not then anyway.
There's a guest room but somehow Dan ends up sitting on her bed watching Nights of Cabiria with her and they fall asleep. He doesn't say anything about it when she picks it out of her Dad's DVD library or when she loads it up on Roman's extra laptop. He doesn't say anything when she starts crying a little earlier than she normally does.
He just wraps an arm around her shoulder.
She pushes him away, but only the first time.
He's already up when she wakes. There's juice and toast and eggs on the table. No coffee. Blair smirks pointedly. Dan rolls his eyes.
She only has juice.
Dan sighs.
"Have some toast at least."
Blair breaks off a piece of his toast and shoves it in her mouth. It's funny how indelicate she allows herself around Humphrey, but then again, it is Humphrey and even his most pointed barbs aren't even close to the things she and Chuck have said to each other.
"Charming," he drawls. "So what do you want to do now?"
Blair shrugs.
Dan looks out the window. "You know I've never been outside the States. Come on, Waldorf, show me the French Countryside."
Blair considers this. Somehow they find themselves in Italy.
Before though:
Dan has to borrow clothes from her dad and Roman and Blair slips into black cigarette pants, a white silk button-down shirt, and her peach cashmere Valentino cowl neck. She grabs the biggest bag she keeps in her dad's house, fills it with essentials, along with their passports, and the emergency credit cards her dad keeps in his safe. Blair leaves her dad a note, knowing this counts as an emergency. Wrapped in a red coat she ties the scarf she bought at the airport around her head and slips her glasses on. Dan grins at her as they step out. He's borrowed one of her dad's wool coats and Blair thinks they look like they're about to start a Fellini film.
"Okay, so I'm pretty sure that walking around the town doesn't need this much preparation."
Dan of course ruins the image.
"We're not staying in town."
He touches the frames of her glasses and pushes them a little down her nose. Blair licks her lips. Thinks, please just keep going with me.
"Alright, where are we going?"
ITALY: TURIN.
"Come on the train to Milan is in fifteen minutes," she rushes through the station, smiles at his grumbling, as he wraps a scarf he just bought of one of vendors around his neck.
ITALY: MILAN.
Trains aren't Blair's preferred mode of travel — she likes planes, private cars, and yachts — but trains are faster than cars and easier than planes. She gets them a cabin and spends the trip reading and watching the countryside go by. Dan reads too and sometimes scribbles in the book. She wants to ask him what he's writing about but she's scared that the answer will be: about you.
She doesn't want any more stories. All she wants is truth. Stories, especially love stories, have a way of breaking your heart.
When they arrive in Milan it's midday and there's still enough sunlight to walk around the city. Dan's never been before. Blair, of course, has. She thinks about what she would do when she came to the city before: shop, drink too many espressos, eat too many olives, follow her mom or Serena to the runway shows, and then wander to the museums when her mother was in meeting or Serena was sleeping a hangover off. Dan's eyes are wide as he stares at the buildings. Blair smiles.
She loops an arm around his and grins, "Come on, Humphrey, we have a lot of ground to cover."
"Lead the way."
They spend their time walking around the city and Dan, like a true tourist, stops to get a guide book about the city, flipping to the right pages as Blair takes him around. She rolls her eyes each time — "wait, wait, wait," he says, his fingers thumbing through the glossy pages until he reaches the right one. — but waits and let him do his Humphrey thing. She used to do the same thing when she was younger and had no guides to explain things to her.
As they leave the Peace Arch, she pulls him to a bench and scowls when he frowns.
"Relax, Humphrey, I'm only resting my feet for a second. We've been walking all day."
"We were in a train almost all morning."
Blair rolls her eyes. "Hyperbole, Humphrey. As a writer you should know what it is."
He twists his lips, but sits on the bench next to her. He pulls out his pen and scribbles something in the pages of the guide. Blair hides her smile but looking at the Arch. The sun is setting, the sky pinking, warming the marble of the monument. She thinks about how once she thought this would be her perfect moment. Sitting in the shadow of something old and beautiful days after her wedding, except the reality is nothing like her dream. She's not with her husband. She's not blissfully happy. She's just trying to get through the next hour. There's a light breeze and Blair shivers.
Dan touches her arm. She blinks and makes sure sunglass cover her eyes.
"Blair?"
She stands. Smooths her hands over her thighs. "Come on, Humphrey, there's a great little trattoria I know and then we should go to Galleria Vittorio Emanuele. It's so pretty at night."
Dan looks up at her, the sun and the arch casting interesting shadows on his face. He almost looks—
"I am getting hungry."
He stands, offers his arm.
As they walk she tells him he must have the gnocchi al pesto di rucola when they get to the resturant. He does. She eats all the olives so they have order more. They drink wine from those big jugs and share a tiramisu.
They stay at The Four Seasons that night. They get one room, two beds. A junior suite. Blair doesn't think she's ever stayed in one, but it's nice enough. The water's warm in the shower and she sticks her head under the spray until she's sure that she not crying.
As she walks out of the bathroom, robe snug around her body, she settles on her bed. "So what'd you think of Milan?"
Dan talks and talks and talks and talks until she falls asleep.
They spend the next day in museums and cafes. She buys Dan a little black moleskin because it's annoying her how he's constantly scribbling in the guidebook. Dan smiles at her. "Thanks." They also go back to the Galleria and get him some clothes of his own. Dark jeans, stylishly worn, a navy button down she chooses, and a dark jacket she lets him chose. They fold his borrowed clothes into a messenger she makes him buy because she will not be carrying his extra luggage. She buys herself a simple maroon dress to change into later and La Perla underwear that she folds neatly in her Birkin.
At another time in her life Blair would feel ridiculous doing this, but the only way she's making it through each hour is by not thinking about the rest of her life.
She's sipping her latte, eating Dan’s left over almond croissant, when he asks if they're spending the night. They only paid one night at the Four Seasons and it's already five in the afternoon.
Blair considers his question, take another sip of her latte, and answers.
"I think we should take the overnight to Munich."
Dan says, "Okay. I've always wanted to try bratwurst and Nate's always wanted to go to Oktoberfest."
"I once wore laderhosen for Chuck," she blurts out without thinking.
His eyes snap to hers and something flashes in them that makes her wish she ordered water.
Blair glares. "Stop picturing it, Humphrey."
He smirks. "Too late."
"You're disgusting."
Whatever it was in his eyes is gone now and Blair makes herself forget about it.
The over night train is not romantic at all (thank god). They huddle in their cabin and she falls asleep on Dan's shoulder. His snores keep her up for a bit until she pinches his nose. He snorts, sniffs, and turns his head away from her, leaning his head against the window. Blair giggles. He still snores but it's less annoying than before.
GERMANY: MUNICH.
It's raining in Munich. They step of the platform into a full fledged storm. They're soaked within seconds and rush for cover. Dan's hair looks more ridiculous than usual and her hair is sticking to her face and neck in thick clumps.
He's grumbling about this wouldn't have happened if they had just stayed in Italy and from now on they're checking the weather reports. Blair's clutching her bag to her chest and then she's bent over at the waist. Dan rushes to her, his hands spread wide on her back.
"Blair, Blair, what's wrong? You okay? I knew we shouldn't have done this. God, how stupid what this whole thing? We should have just stayed in the city or at least in France…" he keeps babbling until he realises she's not crying.
She's laughing. Blair looks up at Dan, with his wet muppet hair, clothes all soaked. Her's too and it's just—
"God, look at us, Humphrey. We look ridiculous."
Dan relaxes when he realises she's not crying and then after a beat starts to laugh too. Blair's never hugged Dan for anything but support but now she wraps her arms around him and laughs into his ear. Dan holds her to him and under all their wet clothes she thinks she can feel how warm he is. They let go and share one last laugh. Blair pushes her hair out of her face and flicks at his wet curls.
"Let's leave Munich."
Dan nods. "Lets." Together they look around to find the departures board. When they find it they both look up and search for the soonest trains.
Colonge. Berlin. Padua. Vienna. Amsterdam. Prague. Zurich.
They look at each other and smile.
"Let's take a plane this time."
"God, yes."
They drink coffee and dry off in the train station then grab a cab to the airport.
NETHERLANDS: AMSTERDAM.
They sleep all the way there. Blair wraps herself in Dan's coat and falls asleep on his shoulder. It's practically a habit by now. She's a seasoned enough traveller that she wakes up with a good twenty minutes before landing and Dan is still breathing heavily through his nose. Blair takes her bag with her to the toilet and freshens up. She wipes the invisible mascara tracks from under her eyes and untwists her La Mer travel sized moisturiser. Her hair has dried a mess since Munich so she digs around for her brush to make it presentable. She doesn't know why she cares, she's only with Humphrey, but she's Blair Cornelia Waldorf (Grimaldi) and that's enough to make her swipe on some lipgloss.
When she sits back in her seat she pokes Dan in his cheek and snicker when he mumbles.
"Wake up, Humphrey. We're landing soon."
He blinks and when he focuses on her his eyes are soft that she can't help but smile. His lips curl and he blinks again and the softness in his face is gone. His stubble shadows his face and Blair has come to appreciate him enough that she think he looks almost handsome. If not for his hair, of course.
As they get their cab and head to the hotel, Blair looks at the bright sunny sky and thinks this might have been a good idea.
They get one room again. Two beds. The hotel is nice, right across the train station, and she loves the architecture. Dan stocks up on guide books and brochures as she checks them in. She rolls her eyes at him when he says they should try the coffee shops here first.
Like she doesn't know what he means. Nate's been such a horrible influence.
They change from their Munich drenched clothes in the room. Well, she changes in the bathroom and Dan in the main room. She sticks her hand out through a crack in the door for him to grab her dress and bites her lips as his fingers trail her wrist. Looking at her clothes she can't believe she's going to wear the same outfit twice in one week. Blair sighs, oh have the mighty have fallen. She would dwell on this except this time the fall was her choice and she's picking all the branches on her way down.
When she steps out the bathroom, Dan's in his jeans and the shirt he borrowed from her dad. He's got the jacket they bought in Milan on and still hasn't shaved. Very handsome indeed, she thinks absently as she asks for Roman's cashmere sweater. Hers is still damp. Dan hands it over, grabbing his ridiculous A.C. Milan scarf.
"So, I was joking about the coffee shops. I know that's not like, your thing, so how about we head to Rembrandt museum first and work our way from there. Unless your hungry and want to eat first." He say as she's pulling her hair out of the sweaters neck. She considers telling Dan she's never hungry.
Slipping her shoes on, she sets out the plan for the day: "Museums, then lunch. Then we'll go to one of your little shops."
Dan's eyes widen at her last orders. "I really was joking."
Blair huffs. "Well, I'm not."
"Blair."
She turns at the door. "Dan."
He shakes his head and grins, holding their coats. "Fine, fine. Whatever you say."
"So glad you've caught up with the rest of us."
She stands in front of Rembrandt's paintings, thinks of the Museum D'Orsay, and tugs Dan out of there so fast his spins. When he asks her what's wrong she says nothing. They spend the days walking the canals, subject of the day: Dutch painters and writers (she tells him that she always says it's Rembrandt, but her real favourites are Vermeer, because she's love "Girl With A Pearl Earring" even before the film, and Van Gogh. Dan smirks and tells her next time they go to the MOMA they'll stop by "Starry Night". Blair starts her rant on how she thinks they way the MOMA set up it's displayis horrible. Dan agrees. She also tells him her favourite painting is actually "The Red Vineyard." Dan's predictable and only talks about how Van Gogh and Gauguin would drink absinthe together. "Of course that's the only thing you care about. You writers are all the same," she says, "It's all about the mind altering substances." When the conversation switches to cinema Dan tells her she has to see "Turkish Delight" and asks if she's seen "Black Book" which of course she has. He goes in a tangent about how if she wasn't a television snob she should watch "Game of Thrones" because the lead from “Black Book" is going to be in it, but that just devolves the conversation into an old argument they have.) and she promises that they'll do the Museumplein tomorrow. When they pass by the opera house Blair sees they're playing La Gioconda.
"Wanna go?" Dan asks, as she studies the poster.
"Are you serious?"
"It looks like you want to go."
"It's no coffee shop."
"I really was joking about that."
"No, you weren't."
Dan gives he a look and then relents. "Okay, I wasn't but hey who says we can't do both."
"I am not watching the opera high."
Dan laughs.
"Chicken?"
Blair set her hands on her hips, glares, and then shoves at his shoulder. "Fine, let's get the tickets."
They end up having to buy the tickets for tomorrow night unfortunately and she's silently thanking her dad and his emergency card each day more and more. All her cards are in New York and they'd be too easy for Chuck or Louis to track. Dan has his but they shouldn't use it as much for the same reason and also she's pretty sure his limit is not as high as any of hers. Once she would be thinking this out of malice, but now it's just fact. Dan Humphrey for being a published author and having his own trust fund thanks to Lily is incredibly frugal. Hipster.
They walk away from the opera house both smug for their own reasons.
Walking back to the hotel is when Blair realises.
"We have to go shopping."
Dan sighs, "No we don't."
"We are going to an opera! Of course we do! You just can't go there dressed in jeans, Dan, my god."
"We have clothes."
"They are not appropriate!" Blair pouts. "Sometimes I forget how uncultured you are."
Chuckling, Dan's arm slides around her and leans against her side. "You wound me." Blair smacks his chest.
"We still need clothes."
"Blair we're not even going until tomorrow. Just… don't worry about. Your dress will be fine by then and don't worry. Nobody knows us here. They won't care if Blair Waldorf did not wear the latest Cavalli to the opera."
She scowls. "First of all, I'm insulted you would think I'd wear Cavalli to the opera. I am not a forty-year old trophy wife, and secondly… I guess you have point." She thinks about what he said. Nobody here right now cares that she's Blair Waldorf. Nobody even knows she's here. They think Harold Wardolf is here because Blair Waldorf is supposed to be on her honeymoon. But that's never going to happen now and she needs to think about what will happen after this ends. She's not an idiot or so blindly motivated that she doesn't realise she has to go back at some point. She knows. Even Dan knows, except he's being a great partner in crime and letting her call all the shots.
They're in Europe and nobody cares about the mess of her life here except herself and Dan.
However.
"I don't have any heels and you need a suit jacket."
"Blair," he laughs.
"You don't even have to come with me. Go to the hotel and take a nap and think about where we'll have dinner. God knows I don't need your fashion advice slowing me down."
"God knows." He mocks but agrees.
As they separate Dan's face softens and he takes her shoulders in his hands, leaning forward to press his lips against her forehead.
"See you at the hotel."
Blair smiles.
When she enters their room, she's feeling accomplished with her finds. One appropriately stylish suit jacket for Humphrey and brand new pair of heels for her. Just thinking about them on her feet make her feel worlds better. (She might have also indulged and bought a necklace but who really cares. She can't imagine Dan will when he sees the tie she got him.) She starts to fill Dan in on her afternoon when the smell of the room registers.
"NO, YOU DIDN'T."
Dan's sitting on his bed, crossed legs, with a bag of McDonald's (because of course he would find the most unhealthy food in the city) and the room reeks of pot. Conan, the movie, is playing on the pay-per-view and god, if that doesn't tell her everything she needs to know.
She practically throws her bags on her bed except she does not throw brand new couture.
From his bed, Dan smiles. Wide and giddy and she walks right over and shoves him the shoulder. Dan just falls over on the bed.
"I cannot believe you Dan Humphrey! You little stoner!"
Dan laughs, "Did you know there's a coffee shop about a block away from the hotel."
She crawls onto the bed and hits him with a pillow. He's keeps laughing under the cotton and feathers. His hands flail around for a second and then he wiggles free from the assault and stands in front of her. Blair sits on her knees and hugs the pillow to her body. Dan's eyes are rimmed red and he's still smiling. That's when she notices he's only in boxers and shirt, which is barely on, it's top three buttons unbuttons. Blair flicks her eyes over his chest quickly, bites her lip, and glares at him.
He's been rambling about his little adventure and how he didn't mean to go to without her but he just randomly saw the shop and he knew she's take forever at the stores and he was going to check it out and wait for her. He really was, but did you know that they gave you a little packet of five joints just like that and so he thought he would smoke one, because five, and it was amazing — like Nate would cry amazing — and then he just really wanted fries but he didn't want to get room service because then they'd have to come to the room and smell the room, so he went out since he remembered the McDonald's just up the street and these fries were amazing, Blair, you don't know. Blair blinks halfway through his little babble session and starts laughing.
"Oh my god, Humphrey. I never thought it was possible but you can actual blather on more when you're inebriated."
Dan pouts. His hair is wild around his head and he really needs to shave because his stubble passed the sexy five o'clock shadow stage three hours ago.
"I do not."
Blair laughs. "How does Nate deal with it?"
"He!" he mumbles, sitting next to her. "He likes it… I think."
“Of course he does.” She pats his head, licks her lips and eyes the ashtray he has on the chair in front of his bed. "You didn't smoke all five, did you?"
Dan turns wide brown eyes on her, his little smirk too knowing. "Nope."
Biting her lips, Blair shrugs of her coat and tosses it on her bed. "Okay, let's do it."
Dan hands her the joint and she touches it to her lips — she hasn't done this since highschool and that was only once on a dare but she figures it can't have changed much — and Dan's there, lighting the tip with a little cow lighter. She inhales then coughs.
"A cow, seriously?"
He shrugs. "They love their cows here."
Blair takes another hit. The smell of pot refills the room, sticky and sweet, and she makes him turn off the tv as she settles back on his bed, propping her feet on his lap. Dan's fingers curve and press into her heels and trail her ankle. He's watching her like he's scare she's disappear into the smoke if she blinks. Blair likes when he looks at her like that.
"Dan."
"Hmm?" His thumb runs over the bones of her ankle.
"Tell me a story."
"Any requests?"
Blair brings the joint to her lips, sucks in a breath, and closes her eyes as she passes it over. His hand brushes and lingers on hers as their fingers tangle and separate.
"Nothing with princesses."
He tells stories about queens and huntsmen.
Somehow at some point during their night they: empty out the mini bar, watch pay-per-view movies until all the sounds give Blair a headache, finish Dan’s fries, dance to Dutch radio (well, Blair dances and Dan spins her), call Nate from the hotel phone (it's mostly them giggling and singing along to the radio and telling Nate that they wish he was here), and fall asleep together on Dan's bed.
Dan sleeps on his stomach, one arm curled around a pillow, the other around Blair's waist. When she wakes up in the middle of the night because she’s cold she considers moving to her own bed but instead turns over and presses closer to Dan's body heat. They opened the window at some point to air out the room. It’'s the only reason she snuggles up to him, of course.
They sleep in -- way in -- and end up eating way too much at brunch. They laugh as they recount the phone call to poor Nate and wonder if when he'll listen to it he'll be high.
They walk to the Museumplein, but skip the Rembrandt museum. Head straight to the Van Gogh. They discuss each painting they like and at one point Dan leans into her and whispers, "Just imagine if we had saved one of joint for today."
Blair smacks him in the chest. "You should be ashamed."
He chuckles, "Like you weren't thinking it."
Blair huffs, but she totally was.
After lunch, Dan surprises her and takes her back to the hotel. He booked her spa treatment before the opera. Blair smiles and convinces him to join her for a seaweed mask, she says, waggling her eyebrows. He complains he was going to write. She pouts and relents, but tells him to go and get a shave from the hotel's salon.
When she heads upstairs and finds him working on the tie that she bought him yesterday, Blair bites her lip at the newly shaved line of his jaw. As they leave he offers her his arm. Blair takes it.
"I think they give this city a bad rap," Blair says as they head back to the airport in the cab the next day.
Dan touches her hand, chuckles. She turns to him.
"I think it's time to go back." She lays her head on his shoulder.
"Whatever you want."
FRANCE: LYON.
They're at the train station in Lyon. Her father's house is ten minutes away. She can feel her breath come in heavier. Thinks she can hear Chuck at the door of the father's house, waiting.
Blair turns to Dan.
"Let's go somewhere else. Let's go to Spain! I bet you've never had real sangria." She waves her hand in the air and grips at the sleeve of his jacket. Lyon is behind her, her father and her life lie beyond it; Dan is the only thing in front of her and right now that's all she wants.
His eyes are soft. "Blair."
She swallows.
"You can't run forever."
"I know."
They take the train to Barcelona.
SPAIN: BARCELONA.
They arrive in the late afternoon, both exhausted, and all Blair wants to do is sleep. After they check in that's exactly what they do. The room has two beds. This time it doesn't matter as they drop to the same bed. They both fall asleep on top of the covers.
Barcelona. Dan keeps saying the name, exaggerating his accent each time. As they walk the streets, deciding what to and what to see, he starts talking about that Woody Allen film he made her see. Blair frowns because all she’s remembering is Rebecca Hall's character and how she stayed married to a man she wasn’t sure she was fully in love with. Of how Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem fought in the streets, shot at each other, and kept saying they were in love. Of course their stories aren't the same as hers, but it makes Blair angry at any rate. Dan's talking about the Picasso Museum and for some reason Blair snaps at him.
"I hate this place!"
Dan frowns. "You're the one that wanted to come."
She scowls at him. "So what?! I wanted a lot of things! And why are you even here, Humphrey! Why do you even care?"
Something happens in Dan's face that makes Blair stop and catch her breath. Oh god, please no—
He takes a step back from her, his face closing up, "You know what, I don't even fucking know. I'm just trying to keep up with whatever story you're building your head until we go back, because we will Blair. You will. You're not a coward. You may be running scared now, but you're Blair Waldorf and you'll regroup and go back. You always do."
To them, to him, goes unsaid but it's the one thing they both fear is the truest.
"Then why are you here, Dan?" Her eyes burn but she will not cry, she will not. Not in the middle of the street in Spain.
Fingers brush at her cheeks. "Because I promised I would be," says Dan.
Blair nods. "I know you did." She fixes his scarf—still ridiculous. "I'm glad you're here."
"Let's walk on the beach."
She rolls her eyes, "It's winter, Humphrey."
"It's not like I said: 'let's get in the water'. Come on," he tugs at her hand. Blair wraps her fingers around his.
There are few empty beach chairs and they sit. Blair watches the water.
"I freaked out in back in Lyon. I thought that by now people would have figured where I was and they'd all be waiting at my dad's house. I just… didn't want deal with them if they were."
"I get it."
"I'm married, Dan."
He reaches over and touches her cheek. "I know."
"He doesn't love me. Not anymore and he won't let me go. He'll keep me as prize, just like Chuck did, until he's done with me." Blair turns to Dan, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.
Dan looks furious. Like he wants to fly to New York and hit Louis. He hit Chuck once, more than once, actually. It shocks her a little that this look is for her, but she really isn’t surprised if she thinks about it.
"He won't. We'll figure it out. I'll even go to Chuck and ask him to help. I'm sure he's got a folder labelled: How To Take Down Royalty."
"Binder," Blair laughs.
"And if you what to know what's up in New York just let me make a call."
"You can't call Nate."
"I won't."
Twists of twists, it's Jenny Humphrey that comes to their rescue, in a way. They go back to the hotel and Dan calls Hudson. Asks Jenny to call Eric and for him to call Serena. It's a ridiculous game of telephone but it gets them the information they need.
Everyone that knows them thinks Blair ran off to the Caribbean. Nobody will say that Dan's with her, but they all suspect it. When Dan asks how in the hell they think that Jenny says one word:
Serena.
Sometimes her best friend still surprises Blair.
"Feel better?"
Blair curls herself around one of his pillows. "Only slightly."
Dan lies down next to her and brushes her hair away from her face. "Let's head back to your dad's tomorrow. Barcelona is more of a summer town anyway," he grins with all the air of snotty travel agent.
Blair grins back. Thinks about she wants to press their smiles together. "Okay, but first take me out to dinner tonight."
"It's a date."
(Even though she pretends otherwise Blair knows that yes, it is.
It's one of her best ones.)
They get back to their room at four am, tipsy on wine and guitar music, and fall asleep in the same bed. She sleeps in one of his borrowed shirts and presses herself against his back.
FRANCE: LYON.
Her dad and Roman greet her with kisses and hugs. They been worried. Her dad called her mother when he arrived and saw her note. Dan hovers at the door then mumbles something about their bags and grabs her Birkin, his messenger bag, and rushes up the stairs. Her dad's eyes trail after him as Roman says something about starting dinner. Her dad hold her hands and leads her to the sofa in the living room.
"Sweetie, please tell me what happened, because all we were all worried and then your mother said you called and the only reason she knew where you were is because she recognised our number."
Blair sniffs, looks down at her hands. "I-I just…" She looks up and for the first time in years feels she has her father's whole attention. He's looking her at her like he used to when she was little and took her to feed the ducks. Like she's his whole world and Blair breaks. She chokes out a sob and wraps her arms around her dad's neck, hoping foolishly he had the power to fix everything just like she used to. "It's all mess, Daddy. It's all a mess and it's my fault."
Her dad wraps her in his arms, rubbing gently at her back, and says the only thing that Blair needs to hear from him right now. "Shh, baby, of course it's not. Whatever happened it's not your fault."
It's partly a lie and it's partly true, but her dad doesn't know that. He doesn't even care. It's all Blair needs.
She makes her way up to her room after a long talk with her dad. He lets her go with a kiss to her head and that he'll call her and 'friend', inflection and everything, down for dinner. She rolls her eyes at how he describes Dan, but part of her knows he's right. Dan's more than just a simple friend.
Dan's in her room. She didn't expect otherwise. He's reading some book he must have grabbed from her shelf.
"Sorry about before," say Blair as she settles next to him.
"It's okay. Parents."
"Hmm."
"Your dad mad?"
Blair shakes her head, rests her head on his shoulder.
"Does he want to kill me for kidnapping his daughter?"
She snickers and shakes her head again, looking at him. "Nope. I told him I kidnapped you."
He purses his lips. "You make a good point."
"So, what you reading, Humphrey? Entertain me until dinner."
Dan gives a bit put upon sigh, but he starts reading to her.
At dinner as soon as Dan starts talking about books her dad shoots her a smile. The table falls into a discussion about Russian literature. When Blair offhandedly mentions Dan wrote a book and runs upstairs to pull it out of her bag, bringing it down to three surprised faces, Roman gasps and jumps up and rushes out the room only to come back with his own copy. Dan's ears turn red. Blair laughs through the rest of dinner as Roman starts to read his favourite passages, and then her dad.
In her room, after dinner, Dan glares at her. Mumbles, "I hate you."
Blair giggles and shrugs. "You know you don't."
"You look happy here."
Blair sighs, "Here is the closet I have been in a long time."
Dan stretches out on her bed. She sits at her vanity. "You gonna stay?"
Blair fingers her perfume bottles. "It would be nice, but… I have things to take care of in New York." She looks at him through the mirror. "You coming back with me?"
His reflection meets her eyes. "Of course."
That night he sleeps in her room. They've slept in the same room this whole crazy trip and it feels weird to stop now. Her dad and Roman don't care or if they do they don’t say anything.
Blair can't sleep though and spends half the night listening to Dan's light snoring, thinking about telling him to get his clearly deviated septum fixed because it keeps her up (even though tonight will probably be the last night they sleep together) (and she hates how that makes her feel), about how everything changes in New York, how she's married and a princess and it's nothing like her dream, and (to her annoyance) she's thinking about how this whole trip she didn't even kiss him once.
Her dad and Roman drive them to the station. They get tickets to Paris. They're to arrive in Gared du Nord. The memories are unavoidable.
FRANCE: PARIS.
They have a day to waste in the city.
Blair avoids the Museum D'Orsay and Dan doesn't ask why. The lines at the Louvre are horrible and Notre Dame and the catacombs are too depressing even for her right now. The city is grey with winter, shading all her memories, but there is no nostalgia. There is only grey and shadows. She takes Dan to the Jardin du Luxembourg, and it's cold but they sit and eat and drink hot chocolate and eclairs. Her coats fans out in around her a slash of red among all the grey as Dan's scarf does against his throat. Her dad let him keep the coat for the last leg of their trip.
"Must be nice in the summer," he says.
"I like it now."
"So anything you want to do before we leave?"
"There's used to be a carousel they set up near the Eiffel Tower."
"Let's go see."
Dan buys a cheap camera at one of the many little tourist shops, along with his guide books, and grabs a snow globe ("For Jenny," he explains).
He takes pictures of her on the stupid carousel and then takes one of them together. She presses their faces together and they smile goofily as his arm extends in front of them. The flash blinds her and they blink at each other.
When she pouts because she can't see how they turned out he laughs.
"I'll make sure to get duplicates when I get them developed."
"You better."
It makes her feel slightly better than there will be proof of this. Even if it is just a grey Paris and their blurry faces smile too wide.
She makes him dress up for dinner that night. The only good thing about him still having his wedding suit. She goes down to Chanel and picks herself up a dress. Red and bright, everything she doesn't really feel now. She'll have the hotel send it to Lyon in the morning. Dan has his souvenirs, she has hers.
When Dan looks at her as she steps out of the bathroom she flushes.
He offers his arm, she takes it. Smiling.
FRANCE: PARIS. CHARLES DE GAULLE.
"Dan," says Blair as the reach the gate. "I—I."
He pulls her into a hug, his lips brush at her cheeks. "You still got me, okay?"
She knows. She knows.
Blair raises herself on her tiptoes and touches her lips to his. (This is not how she thought their next kiss would be like, not that she's thought about their next kiss. Except every night this trip.) It's not passionate, it's not mind-blowing, it doesn't change the axis of her world.
It settles her.
Centres her, like she told Dorota what seems so long ago.
Dan's eyes go wide and open and soft and she knows—she sees everything in them; she's not stupid—all she has do to is say the word and he'll follow her lead. A selfish part of her wants to do just this, but that would just be more running. Blair has things to take care off. Dan must see the determination in her eyes, she hopes, because he doesn't ask questions. He touches her cheek and nods.
"Let's go home, Waldorf."
She takes his arm.
"Let's go."
SOMEWHERE OVER THE ATLANTIC.
"Hey, Humphrey, shove over." She pushes against his arm until he relents and lets her curl up against him.
They share a blanket as they mock the in-flight movie.
NEW YORK: LAGUARDIA.
There's a car waiting for them. Nate and Serena are in it. They sit across Blair and Dan and make no mention of their joined hands.
Blair speaks first, "I'm going to need help with Louis."
Serena starts to say something, but Nate beats her to the punch.
"Whatever you need."
NEW YORK: BROOKLYN.
Blair insists on going up to the loft for a second. Insists that Serena and Nate wait in the car.
Dan tosses her father's Bijan coat on the sofa and Blair presses her lips together as not to comment. He's rolling his shoulder and gives her a lopsided smile.
"Home sweet home, huh?"
Blair smiles. "Something like that."
"Look, Blair…"
"Look, Humphrey…"
They look at each other and then Blair is suddenly tired of all their pauses and half finished moments. She stalks across the room and pulls him down by his collar, closes her lips over his.
Dan squeaks in surprise, which makes her giggle, and when he finally gets with the program she sighs into his mouth. His breath is warm and a little stale from airplane air. His fingers are at her jaw and his tongue traces her lips. Blair twists her fingers in his shirt, pressing herself closer.
A few minutes pass and then Blair steps back, wets her lips. Dan looks like he's trying to figure out ways to make her stay. It makes her grin.
"I can't stay," she whispers.
He groans, "I know."
"I have to go." Blair moves towards the door, but keeps her eyes on him.
"Why now Blair? Why here?" He asks as she touches the door.
Blair swallows, knowing there's two truths and one lie she could say here. Knowing there's only one thing to say here.
"Because here it's the only place that it would have been real." She grins, walks out. Dan's still smiling as she closes the door behind her.
NEW YORK: MANHATTAN.
She picks up the phone and dials. She doesn't even have to think about it, her fingers memorised the number long ago.
It only takes him two rings.
"Hi," he says. He sounds breathless.
"Hi."
"How was the dress-down?"
"Horrible," there's no reason to lie to him.
"I'm sorry. Need me—Um, what do you need?"
Blair thinks about all the things she needs, all the things she wants, from him, from her family, from life, for herself. She snuggles down on her bed.
"Let's watch a movie."
He chuckles over the phone line and she can picture perfectly his face. "Okay, what?"
"I'm thinking Bogart/Bacall."
I'm hard to get, Steve. All you have to do is ask me.
You know what you're getting into. It's gonna be rough.
"Hey, Dan?"
"Hmm," he sounds sleepy but he won't hang up until she does.
"Come over for brunch tomorrow," she mumbles, closing her eyes.