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Blair swallows the last sip of her third cocktail, holding her empty glass loosely between her fingers.
She stares into the bottom of it like she might find an answer there, like she might be able to crawl her way inside to escape the itchy collar of her dress and the dry air of her mother’s penthouse. It’s tempting to drop the glass to the floor and watch it shatter into a million little jagged pieces around her. At least causing a scene would finally allow her to feel something other than the numb cloud of boredom that’s been hanging over her head all night.
Blair spots Serena across the room talking to Chuck, who’s holding Henry up with one arm. She’s already the cool aunt, all smiles and breakfast trips and monogrammed kids pyjamas with bite-sized designer sneakers to match.
If they were younger, Blair probably wouldn’t stand for it. She’d march across the room pointing fingers, tell Serena that Henry is her son, that she doesn’t need the great Serena van der Woodsen swooping in to steal the spotlight from her, once again.
But they aren’t young, not anymore, and Blair has grown out of her need to be the center of attention. Mostly.
“Everything okay?”
Blair blinks, tearing her gaze away from Serena to look at Serena’s husband instead. “I’m fine, Humphrey. What would possibly indicate otherwise?”
Dan rolls his eyes, taking the glass out of her hand and plunking it down on the bar top next to him. Blair almost grabs for it, balling her hands into fists instead. “Come on, Blair, I know that look,” he says. “You look like someone just insulted Audrey Hepburn. To your face.”
Blair realizes she’s pouting and bites her lip. “I don’t have a look, Humphrey. You should worry about how you look in that suit.”
Dan glances down at himself, letting out a short laugh. “Normally I’m immune to your…comments about my clothes, but in my defense, this was a gift from Lily. She wanted us to be coordinated for the party.”
Blair knows ‘us’ means him and Serena. They’re an us, a we. Two sides of the same golden coin. “Of course. God forbid someone commit a fashion faux pas at the most prestigious party of the year.” Blair scrunches up her nose, looking around the room. “Is anyone else here under fifty? How many holiday parties does one need to attend in their lifetime before they’ve had enough?” She’s hardly halfway to fifty, and Blair already knows she has.
“Tell me about it. I was almost trapped in a conversation with some of Lily’s friends about which classic opera is the best,” Dan says.
“You like the opera.”
“They don’t need to know that.”
Blair bites her lip again, this time to hide a smile. “Well, which is it?”
He might be smiling too, she thinks. She hopes her eyes aren’t playing tricks on her, clouded a little by the warm haze of gin. “I-” he starts to say.
“Dan!” It’s Serena, dangly earrings swinging as she hurries over to him. “Come quick, there’s someone here I want you to meet.”
She threads her arm through his and Dan glances at Blair, once, mouth still open with an unfinished sentence. He shakes his head, like he’s snapping himself out of a daydream. “Sure, yeah, I’m coming.”
Blair feels a familiar burning in her chest as they walk away, an unpleasant flare up, like fireworks aimed towards the ground instead of up in the sky. It intensifies the longer she watches Serena, the tighter she sees her squeeze Dan’s arm.
She looks at him instead, feeling the burning ease from a wildfire to a single match, small enough for her to manage, for her to snuff out before it becomes something outside of her control. Dan throws his head back, laughing at something, and Blair takes a shaky breath.
She thinks she might like him in that suit, after all.
Serena’s hungover, and Dan’s tired.
She’s laying in their bed with a cool compress across her forehead, eyes closed. “I had way too much to drink last night,” she says.
Oh, really? Dan almost replies. “We’re supposed to babysit Henry today, remember?” he tells her. “Chuck and Blair are leaving for that...business trip, or whatever. And Dorota has the day off.”
Serena waves a hand. “You just go. Henry loves you.”
Dan opens his mouth to reply and decides against it, settling for a nod. At least now he can take Henry to the movies instead of some fancy brunch, maybe even to the small theatre in Brooklyn that he likes.
Dan’s expecting Dorota when he arrives at Chuck and Blair’s apartment, or maybe one of the other house staff.
He isn’t expecting to find Blair sitting on the couch in a robe.
Dan blinks, clearing his throat. “Uh, Blair? What are you still doing here?”
“Humphrey?” Blair looks up from the magazine she’d been reading. “Oh my God, I told Dorota to call you. Your babysitting services will no longer be required. Feel free to see yourself out.”
“So no...Paris, was it?” Dan asks. “Don’t you love it there?”
Blair makes a face. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I won’t be going along. Chuck thought he...we...would have more success if he went solo.”
Dan resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows that Chuck going solo probably means him charming rich French women and/or blackmailing them until their husbands offer up their checkbooks.
He’s turning to go when he gets an idea. It’s a ridiculous one, probably, but he hates how sad she looks and he thinks he may as well try. “Hey, I was gonna take Henry out to watch a Christmas movie, originally, so I can still go with him. If you want,” Dan says.
Blair sighs, flipping a glossy page of her magazine. “That’s fine. He would like that.”
“And I was thinking maybe you could...come along. Only if you want. Obviously.”
He sees Blair’s face change, her brow furrowing. There’s no way she won’t say no, he thinks. Blair Waldorf, the grown-up, level-headed version of her, doesn’t watch movies in Brooklyn with Dan Humphrey. Teenage Blair might’ve, the thrill of sneaking around had always seemed to excite her, but-
“Yes,” Blair says. “I’ll come.”
Dan realizes his mouth is open, and he rearranges his expression to hide his shock. “Are you sure? We’ll probably end up watching Elf , or something. It might be a bit too...mainstream for your tastes.” He forces himself to stop talking, then, to stop making up excuses for her to change her mind when she’s already said yes .
“I like Christmas movies, Humphrey. I’m not some miserable Scrooge.”
Dan can’t help the laugh that slips out. “Really?”
“I contain multitudes,” Blair replies, standing up from the couch. “Wait here while I get dressed.” She walks to the bottom of the stairs and calls up: “Henry! Dan is here!”
Dan smiles as he hears the sound of Henry running to the stairs, hurried little kid footsteps. He appears with a familiar toothy grin on his face and Dan sees Blair wince as she watches him take the stairs two at a time.
“Uncle Dan!” Henry hugs Dan’s legs, and Dan feels a stab of affection in his chest.
Blair is looking at them, pink robe flowing behind her, one corner of her mouth turned up. If someone had told Dan this morning that he’d be spending the afternoon with her, especially this kind of afternoon, he would've laughed in their face. But he’s learning that he might not have her all figured out, anymore.
He likes it when she surprises him.
Blair’s tucking Henry into bed a few nights before Christmas when he says it.
“I wish Uncle Dan was my daddy.”
She pauses, counts to three as she inhales slowly. “Henry. You don’t mean that.”
“Mhm.” Henry nods emphatically. “He plays with me. And we watch movies.”
“I watch movies with you,” Blair insists, taking one of his small hands in hers. “And your dad loves you, even when he isn’t here.”
“Where is he?”
Blair shuts her eyes as she squeezes his fingers. “He’ll be home soon. Just in time for Christmas,” she tells him. She doesn’t actually know exactly where Chuck is at the moment. Her best guess is that he’s somewhere in the general location of Europe, busy sweet-talking investors or buying up properties on the French Riviera so he can be away from home even more than he already is.
He’s apparently also too busy to answer her phone calls.
Blair shuts the door to Henry’s room softly when she leaves, already rationalizing his words. Of course he likes Dan better. Dan is fun with him; he can afford to be, without the same weight of responsibility Chuck has to bear. Henry’s barely five; Blair should know better than to confuse him by having Dan around all the time. It needs to stop.
She decides she’s going to tell him that. Sitting in her bed, clay face mask and freshly applied nail polish drying simultaneously, Blair picks up her phone.
“Hello?” Dan’s voice sounds groggy on the other end of the line, and Blair sees that it’s past eleven when she glances at the clock. She hadn’t even thought to check the time.
“Humphrey,” she says in response.
“Blair? Is something wrong? It’s the middle of the night.”
She scoffs. “It is not . You really are a grandpa.”
“Did you need something, or did you just call to make fun of me?” Dan retorts.
“Why would I willingly take time out of my day -night- to talk to you? I’m calling because I need to tell you that you…” Blair wants to say the words, but they stick in her throat. You need to stop coming over . It’s confusing.
She can imagine his response. Confusing for who? he’d say.
Henry, she’d reply. Obviously.
“You…” Blair tries again.
“What, Blair?”
“You...left your scarf here. The other day.”
There’s a pause. “You woke me up to tell me that my scarf is in your apartment?”
“It’s hanging on the banister and clashing with the decor,” Blair defends immediately. It’s not even false; the fabric looks like he’d cut it himself from one of Rufus’s drab old sweaters.
“You’re unbelievable,” Dan says. After a moment, Blair hears him sigh. “Really, Blair, are you okay?”
Blair bites her lip. He’s the only one who asks her that, lately. The worst part is she knows he isn’t just being nice, isn’t just looking for a way to get her off the phone. If she answered truthfully, if she said no or even I don’t know , Blair’s certain he would show up within the hour wearing another ugly scarf and carrying macarons he’d somehow managed to acquire in the middle of the night.
“I’m fine, Humphrey,” she tells him. “Go back to sleep.”
“ No . Absolutely not.”
Dan places the sparkly necklace back on the counter, glaring at Blair. “You’ve hated the last ten we’ve looked at.”
Blair rolls her eyes. “Because they were all hideous! You’re buying a gift for Serena ; do you want it to look like costume jewelry from a pawn shop?”
“Remind me again why I brought you along.”
“ Because ,” Blair says, drawing out the word, “I have the best taste out of anyone you know. And everyone you don’t know, too, actually.”
She’s so ridiculous. Dan doesn’t know why he’s smiling.
He purses his lips quickly to hide it. “Well, which one of these would you pick?”
Blair hums, running a finger along the top of the glass case. He watches her squint a little, brows raising when her interest is piqued. “This one.” She points to a simple chain with a small, diamond shaped heart on the end. It’s not her usual style; Dan’s not sure it’s Serena’s either.
“Really? It seems a lot less...flashy than I was expecting.”
“It’s elegant,” Blair says. She waves the sales clerk over. “You asked for my opinion.”
Dan holds the chain in his hand once it’s out of the case, the bright jewelry store lights reflecting off the diamond. Blair’s eyes are still trained on it.
“Try it on,” he tells her, barely registering what he’s saying before the words are out of his mouth.
Blair’s eyes narrow. “What?”
“You know, to see if it’s the right...fit. For Serena.” He’s not making any sense; he knows that. Dan’s expecting Blair to call him on it, but instead she just nods, turning around and lifting up her hair.
“Sure, Humphrey. Why not?”
Dan swallows. His fingers shake a little as he undoes the clasp, threads the chain around her neck, and he tells himself he’s still just shivering from the New York December weather.
Blair lets out a small gasp once the pendant is settled against her chest, almost too quiet for him to catch. Dan feels like there’s someone stepping on his chest, the press of a high heeled shoe right against where his heart sits.
“You love it,” he says, a statement rather than a question.
Blair rubs the heart between her fingers and nods. She leaves out her usual commentary, settling for a small smile instead, meeting his eyes in the small store mirror in front of them.
Dan is sold.
He texts Serena that he’s on his way home and leaves the store with the necklace in a box, wrapped in simple silver paper. He’d nearly fainted when the sales clerk had told him the price, but Blair had chosen it, and technically he can afford it, even if he still isn’t used to that, sometimes.
He’s about to walk through the revolving door of his building when he nearly collides with someone hurrying outside.
“Sorry, I-” Dan steps back, blinking. “Nate? What are you doing here?”
Nate Archibald stands in front of him, his hair dishevelled and his shirt half tucked in. Dan thinks it might even be buttoned up crooked.
Nate’s cheeks go red as he registers Dan in front of him; his eyes widen, deer in the headlights. Running into him like this makes something unpleasant take root deep in Dan’s stomach, the feeling coiling up to wrap around his ribs and squeeze.
“Oh, hey man,” Nate says. His smile looks tight as he runs a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run down every flight of stairs in the building. “What’s up?”
Dan holds up the bag in his hand. “Christmas shopping.”
“Nice, nice.” Nate is looking over Dan’s shoulder.
Dan tilts his head, trying to meet his gaze. “Hey, is everything okay? You kind of look like you just ran a marathon. In dress clothes.”
Nate gives him that tight smile again, clapping him on the shoulder. “There’s my car. I’m late to a meeting, but I’ll catch you later?”
“Okay?” Dan watches him jog out to the street, stepping into a black car waiting there.
As he walks through the lobby, Dan pretends not to notice the pitying looks from his doorman.
“You look ravishing,” Chuck purrs in Blair’s ear, one of his hands sliding up beneath her dress.
She twists out of his grasp to finish clipping her hair back. “Chuck. Later,” she says. He grunts in frustration and Blair rolls her eyes. “This,” She gestures to her face and hair, “took hours. And we’re already going to be late for the party. The party that we’re hosting .” It’s Christmas Eve, which means they’re supposed to be having a small gathering, friends and family only, but based on the loud buzz of voices she hears downstairs, Blair’s fairly certain word has gotten out.
Chuck shakes his head. “We should have done Santorini for Christmas. You can’t be looking forward to yet another year of eating hors d’œuvres and listening to Serena slurring Christmas carols after she’s had a bottle of red.”
Blair’s skin feels prickly. “Serena’s fine,” she tells him. “And you will be too. Just talk to those new business partners you were telling me about; didn’t you say they were coming?”
Chuck hums noncommittally, standing up from the end of their bed. “I’m going to go see if Dorota has Henry ready.”
Blair exhales once he’s gone, pushing her final pin into place. She trails her fingers across her chest, frowning at the red flush there and hoping the lights will be dim enough to hide it. She shouldn’t already be sweating; Blair Waldorf- Blair Bass - isn’t supposed to sweat. She reminds herself that it’s Christmas Eve, and this is supposed to be fun. Chuck is just being…Chuck.
Her attempt at optimism doesn’t last long. Blair knows the night is going to go downhill swiftly as soon as she descends the stairs and sees Georgina Sparks standing in her foyer.
She’s sure her smile looks more like a grimace. “Georgina. What are you doing here?”
“Hi Blair! Your home is so lovely. Jack and I’s invitation must have gotten lost in the mail,” Georgina gushes. I can assure you that was entirely on purpose , Blair thinks.
“And here’s Milo, I’m sure Henry would love to see him!” Georgina yanks Milo out from behind her like he’s an accessory she can’t wait to show off, patting his head once.
When a waiter passes by them with champagne flutes, Blair picks up a glass and downs it in one gulp.
In the elevator on his way up to Blair’s Christmas Eve party, Dan realizes he’s almost looking forward to it.
He can’t possibly imagine why , after the countless disastrous Parties of Holidays Past, but he feels unusually cheerful about the prospect of overheating in his suit while eating miniature shrimp and pretending he’s not hungry.
“You’re in a good mood,” Serena comments, threading her arm through his.
Dan shrugs. “It’s Christmas.”
Serena makes a beeline for the booze once they’re inside ( Georgina’s here , is her explanation). Dan spots her himself as he weaves through the party guests, trying to engage an irritated-looking Blair in conversation. Blair’s expression makes Dan laugh a little to himself, cheeks all pinched up and flushed, her grip on her champagne flute tight enough he thinks it might shatter.
He’s about to go rescue her when he’s stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Dan! Hey man.” It’s Nate, stepping in front of him. He looks...nervous, Dan thinks.
“Hey,” Dan says. He’s lost sight of Blair; he hopes she’s been whisked away by Serena, or really anyone who isn’t Georgina.
“Sorry for running off like that last week,” Nate tells him. “Can we grab a drink?”
“Sure?” Dan follows him toward the bar, bewildered by his serious tone.
Nate places a glass of champagne in his hand and starts asking him questions. How has he been doing lately, has he spent any time with his family yet, does he know if he and Serena are travelling anywhere during the holidays? Dan doesn’t think Nate’s ever been this interested in hearing about him as, like, a person. Their conversations are usually about the women in their lives (Serena for Dan, whichever politician he happens to be sleeping with that month for Nate), or sometimes work.
Dan’s people watching and only half listening, annoyed by the sight of Chuck Bass cozying up to some woman in a tight red dress, when Nate says: “You know, I was so relieved when Serena said she talked to you, and that you guys worked things out.”
Dan’s not really following, but he nods. “Yeah. For sure.”
“I just want you to know that it will never happen again. We’re just friends, and I should have never tried to cross that line.”
There’s a dull buzzing in Dan’s ears, something nagging at his brain. “What?” he says, even though he thinks he already knows.
He shuts his eyes, a panicked-sounding Nate's explanation fading to a dull hum, and sees Serena. He sees her coming home late every few weeks without texting him why. He sees her pulling on a turtleneck last summer when it was eighty-five degrees outside, sees her furiously spraying perfume around her room- their room- like she was trying to cover something up. He sees Nate stumbling out of their building with his shirt untucked and his hair disheveled.
The words are almost a whisper. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Nate's expression is pained. “Hey, are you good, man? She...she told me she talked to you-”
“No. I can’t do this right now,” Dan snaps, pushing past him, aiming for the nearest exit.
His coat is half on when Henry appears, out of nowhere, tugging on the sleeve of it. “Uncle Dan! Why are you leaving?” His eyes are big and watery, lip quivering in a way that immediately makes Dan feel guilty.
He sighs, letting the coat slip off. Why does he have to like this kid so much?
“It’s time for me to head home, Henry,” Dan tells him. Against his better judgement, he adds: “I’m not having fun.”
Henry shakes his head. “No fun either. Mommy is sad.” In a small voice, he says, “I think she’s mad at Daddy.”
Dan’s whole body tenses, heart stuttering. He crouches down to Henry’s eye level and gently places a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, buddy. Do you know where she is?”
“She ran away,” Henry says, tears starting to spill over, and Dan pulls him into a hug. He can see Chuck over Henry's shoulder, a drink in hand and that same woman in the red dress from earlier on his arm.
He holds Henry tighter.
Blair twists the faucet on her bathtub, squealing when hot water splashes on to her bare arms.
She wants to be in it, under it, right now , wants to get out of her now-ruined favorite pink dress. The red stain on the front of it looks like blood, she thinks, seeping out from her chest like she’s been stabbed in the heart.
Blair fumbles with her zipper and giggles, head dropping to the lip of the bath. Clothes are so dumb ; she just wants out . She picks up her bottle of bubble bath from beside the tub and uncaps it, shakes the liquid into the water, the fruity scent masking the smell of alcohol wafting off of her.
She’s stepping into the scalding water with the dress only half off when she hears a knock at the bathroom door.
Blair throws the bubble bath bottle at it. “Chuck, if you come in here I swear I’ll drown myself in this tub!”
“Blair, it’s me.”
“Humphrey? What are-” Blair wobbles a little, grabs the sides of the tub. She slides all the way in, then, soaking her dress. “What are you doing here?”
The door opens and Dan walks in. He looks so clean, compared to her, with his hair gelled back and his shirt sleeves neatly rolled up. The light from Blair’s bedroom is illuminating him from behind, and she squints at him, thinks he might actually have a halo above his head.
“Blair…” The way he says her name is so tender, so different . Blair thinks she’d probably start crying if her face didn’t feel numb at the moment.
“How much did you drink?” Dan asks, taking in the sight of her half dressed in the tub.
Blair giggles. “Mmmm some champagne. Then wine. Obviously.” She points to the front of her dress and giggles harder. Then she gets a brilliant idea, sitting up straight and turning around. “Can you unzip me?”
“I- what?”
“Un zip me, Humphrey. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
Her back is to him, but she hears him sigh. “Okay.” He reaches out, fingers brushing her back as he gets a grip on her zipper, tugs on the wet fabric until it gives. Blair shivers despite the hot water dripping off her body.
He helps push the dress the rest of the way off and steps back quickly, eyes studying the ceiling until she can settle under the bubbles.
Blair laughs at him. “Don’t be such a prude, Humphrey. You’ve never seen a woman in a bathtub before?”
Dan shakes his head. “This isn’t just your bathroom Blair, Chuck could-”
“Ugh, Chuck . Don’t mention his name,” Blair slurs, trying and failing to pop a bubble that floats above her. Her head lolls back, knocking against the porcelain and making stars dance in front of her eyes.
“Hey, woah.” Dan is there instantly, one hand sliding into her hair and keeping her head up. “Blair, this is,” He cuts himself off, sighing again. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Blair groans, rolling her eyes. “I’m just not enough for him,” she mumbles. “He always leaves me like a...like a housewife, or something, while he flirts with girls who look better than me.”
“No one ever looks better than you.”
Blair bites the inside of her cheek. She’s always believed that. Truly, down to her core. The sky is blue, there are seven days in a week, and Blair Waldorf is always the best-looking person in a room. The best person, period.
She’s not sure if Blair Bass believes it, though.
“He doesn’t want me,” she tells Dan. “The real me. It’s like I’m boring now.”
He scoffs. “Blair, you are the least boring person I know. I’m not sure you could be boring if you tried.”
She turns her head to look at him. His hand is still tangled in her hair, half his palm cupping her face, and he traces a thumb across her cheek. Blair hadn’t realized there were tears there until she feels him wiping them away, his touch soft.
“And If I were him,” Dan says, “I would. Want you. No matter what.”
His eyes search hers, open and honest. Blair’s stomach is twisted in knots.
She reaches up to cover his hand with hers, drawing it away from her face and lacing their fingers together. His grip is solid, grounding. “Distract me, Humphrey. Tell me about your night. There’s no way it could’ve been worse than mine.”
Dan laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah, about that.”
“Oh, God,” Blair slides further into the tub, bubbles up to her chin. “Now you have to tell me.”
“I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to hear about me getting screwed over,” he says.
“I promise I’ll try not to laugh at your woes , Humphrey,” she tells him, watching his lips twitch in response.
“Fine. But don’t tell anyone else; I already feel…foolish enough, as it is.”
“You have my solemn word.” Blair pokes his shoulder with her free hand.
Dan settles more comfortably on to the floor next to the tub and squeezes her fingers in his, leaning closer to her. She likes him like this, here with her, like they’re just two friends sharing secrets after a night of drunken debauchery. They are , she supposes. Friends.
The thought of admitting it aloud makes Blair squirm, makes her want to pull her hand away and avoid his eyes, but she thinks Dan might be her best friend in the whole world.
He always has been, really, despite everything.
Blair wears green to Christmas dinner and Dan’s breath catches in his throat.
Lily’s got him putting cutlery on the table ( No waitstaff on Christmas; this is a family holiday, she insists every year), and Dan already feels like this year’s dinner will be a complete write off, based on the way Serena’s been avoiding him all day. Although, if he’s honest, he hasn’t exactly been thinking about her either.
Blair walks into Lily’s penthouse with a small smile on her face, skin bright and hair perfectly curled. If she’s feeling the consequences of the previous night, she doesn’t show it.
Chuck sulks in behind her, ushering Henry along. Dan drops the fork in his hand onto the table a bit too hard, causing it to clatter against the wood.
“What did that cutlery do to you?” Rufus asks, walking up next to Dan with the bread basket.
“I’m fine, Dad.” Rufus raises his eyebrows at him, and Dan sighs. “Really. It’s Christmas; everything’s fine. Merry and bright and all that.”
“If you say so,” his dad says, shaking his head a little. He takes some of the spoons from the middle of the table and starts helping Dan with the place settings, his gaze flicking every few seconds to where Lily is standing with William across the room.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Dad?” Dan asks. He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, both he and his dad being connected to the van der Woodsens in ways they can’t seem to escape, for better or for worse. Literally, in Dan’s case.
“I’m good Dan, you know that.” Rufus claps him on the shoulder, his smile a little too wide. “I’m gonna go help Jenny in the kitchen.”
Dan’s placing the last napkin on the table when he hears her.
“Merry Christmas, Dan.”
He turns, surprised to find her seeking him out willingly. Her red lips turn up at the sight of his awed expression. “Well? Are you just going to stare?”
Dan clears his throat. “Merry Christmas, Blair. You look…” He trails off, taking in the way the shiny fabric of her dress hugs her curves. “You look beautiful.”
He thinks she might start blushing, a little, and he’s not sure how to handle that, knowing it’s in response to something he said.
Blair looks him up and down. “And you look…like you.” Her nose wrinkles a little, and Dan laughs. “Your hair has looked worse, though.”
“I’ll take it.”
It’s quiet for a long moment, and Dan gets that feeling deep in his stomach, butterflies escaping a jar he’d thought was tightly sealed.
“Blair, last night…” he begins.
“Daniel! The photographer is ready!” Lily calls. She beckons him over to where Serena and Eric are already standing, being arranged on either side of Lily and William by a man with a large camera.
“Go,” Blair says. “Wouldn’t want to keep Lily waiting for the infamous van der Woodsen Christmas family portrait.”
Dan appreciates the sarcasm in her voice.
Serena offers her arm stiffly when Dan reaches her side, turning them so she has one arm around his waist and a hand on his chest.
“Smile!” the photographer says, and Dan does his best to look like he isn’t being held at gunpoint. Really, he does.
“Move closer,” Serena murmurs. “You’re leaning away from me.”
“Oh I’m sorry,” he replies in a low voice. “Should we call Nate? I’m sure he’d be great at posing for photos.”
He hears her sharp intake of breath. Then, “It’s Christmas, Dan, please,” she tells him through gritted teeth, pressing her hand harder against his chest as she smiles for the photographer. “Let’s not do this right now.”
Of course, it’s Christmas , so everything has to be perfect. He’s not allowed to be upset, not allowed to put cracks in their family’s perfect little snow globe of a reality.
Dan tries to keep his eyes on the camera lens, but the sound of Blair’s laugh distracts him, makes him look behind the photographer and notice her swinging Henry into her arms. He’s not sure where Chuck has disappeared to, but she looks so happy , just the two of them like that. It doesn’t hurt that she looks really, really good in green.
Dan thinks about her gazing up at him, eyes dark and teasing, and he realizes he’s started smiling for real.
She called him Dan , he remembers. Not Humphrey.
Dan.
It doesn’t take long for dinner to become a disaster. Thinly (or not so thinly) veiled insults and withering glares are practically tradition; Blair’s not sure why she expected this year to be any different.
It starts, truly, when Lily asks: “Should I expect a grand baby from you two any time soon, Serena and Dan?” and Blair nearly chokes on her salad.
“Mom!” Serena hisses. “Can we not talk about this right now?”
Blair risks a glance at Dan, seated across from her, finding his face paper-white.
Lily shrugs, picking up her fork and pointing toward where Dorota is entertaining Henry in the kitchen. “Well, Henry is such a little darling, it just makes me wonder.”
Her tone is innocent enough, teasing, but Blair knows this is a surefire way to get Serena worked up. And Dan too, apparently. Blair swears she can see a bead of sweat forming on his brow.
“Not everyone wants kids, Mom, God,” Serena says, and Dan flinches.
Lily purses her lips. “Well, I think you would be a great mom, should that day come.”
Blair feels Chuck shift in his chair beside hers and she holds her breath. The conversation can end here, she thinks, Please let it end here.
“The last time Serena babysitted Henry, he ended up on the front page of the tabloids because she decided to take him shoe shopping with her,” Chuck says with a scoff.
“Leave it, Chuck , ” Blair murmurs, pressing her foot to his shin under the table.
“And you’re Father of the Year?” Dan chimes in, voice razor sharp. “Give me a break.”
“Relax, Humphrey. You think I don’t know about your sad, pathetic attempts to play house with my wife and son?”
Blair coughs, heart sinking as Dan’s face goes slack. How does he even know about that?
She can’t have anything of her own when it comes to Chuck, it seems. He’s probably had his PI following them, or worse.
“What is he talking about?” Serena demands.
Blair sees Dan force himself to relax his shoulders, jaw twitching. “Nothing.”
“What have you been doing with Blair, Dan, tell me.”
“Yes, please do enlighten us,” Chuck adds.
“Nothing happened. Genuinely nothing.” Dan runs a hand through his hair, turning to face Serena fully. “Though I’m not sure why you think you even have the right to ask me that considering what you’ve been up to lately.”
Serena stands abruptly from the table, chair scraping against the floor. “I can’t do this right now,” she declares.
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” Dan gets up, glancing at Blair fleetingly before he’s on his way to the elevator.
Blair exhales, trying to swallow down the sour taste in her mouth. There’s a persistent lump in her throat that’s been there, she thinks, for longer than she’s known.
Chuck is leaning forward beside her, knuckles white on the edge of the table. His anger is palpable; she can feel the tension in the room like a match suspended above gasoline.
Blair pushes her chair back. She doesn’t want to stick around for the explosion.
Not anymore.
The night is freezing, wind biting at Dan’s skin as soon as he steps outside the building.
He’s got his hand half-raised to hail a cab, to get as far away from here as soon and as quickly as possible, but the sound of the door opening behind him makes him pause.
Dan almost doesn’t believe it, the sight of her green dress standing out against the white snow falling around them.
“Dan,” Blair says.
Her teeth chatter a little. She hadn’t put a coat on before following him; it hadn’t seemed important enough.
“Blair,” Dan replies. He takes a step toward her. “You must be freezing.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s all I do.”
Blair looks at him for a moment, suspended in time. She wouldn’t have done this a month ago. She probably wouldn’t have done it a week ago, or maybe even hours ago. Nothing is ever simple with Dan. It’s always a gamble, always a risk, but it’s the kind that makes her stomach drop in anticipation rather than fear.
Blair doesn’t kid herself into thinking they’re fated to be together. She feels like it might be the opposite, actually, that maybe the two of them were destined to be kept apart no matter what, like being together would rip apart the very fabric of their universe. The stars have never aligned for them; nowhere was Blair standing here in front of him written in the cosmos.
But choosing him makes it better, somehow.
Blair closes the rest of the distance between them and grabs the front of Dan’s jacket, pressing her lips to his.
He melts into it immediately, a hand softly cupping her face. She tastes like red wine and silent promises, and it’s dizzying, overwhelming, to have her like this again.
“Blair,” he whispers, breaking their kiss.
“Dan,” she says softly, arms lacing around his neck.
“What are we going to do about this?”
Blair leans in again. “It’s Christmas,” she murmurs, half against his lips. “We’ll fix it tomorrow.”
Dan pauses, presses his forehead to hers. “Or maybe we don’t have to. Fix it.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then, “You’re right.”
“I’m right?” Dan laughs. “Never thought I’d hear you say that.” He can’t really see her expression, but he imagines her eye roll, dramatic and teasing and Blair.
She shushes him with a quick kiss. “Be quiet, Humphrey, before I change my mind.”
“Okay,” Dan says, and it’s the first time he has no quips to toss back, no quick rebuttals. He just has Blair, and maybe it won’t be forever, but at least it’s for now. He'll take Christmas with her any way she wants it, even broken into a thousand little complicated pieces of a puzzle that's bigger than both of them.
Dan tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, watching a few snowflakes melt against the heat from his palm. Blair smiles at him, just a small curve of her lips, her cheeks the same rosy red as her smudged lipstick.
He thinks this is the sort of snow globe he'd like to live in.