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It's about 12 a.m. in Manhattan, and Dan is trying and failing to light a cigarette on a roof due to how bad he's shivering.
He's still at the stupid party.
He should've left when Serena made eye contact with him and walked away. He should've left when he saw Blair comforting her and sneered at him.
The best choice he could've made was to not show up at all, but all he knows is this morning Serena told him to come, and tonight she's iced him out.
Dan gets a slight sense of mirth from using the word iced, considering how he's sitting on a roof so cold, it could probably freeze all the alcohol being passed around downstairs.
After Serena chewed him out over something about not caring about their relationship again, he'd retreated to the roof to smoke a cigarette. He's sure someone in history said a drunk cigarette could fix anything, and he's inclined to believe it right now.
He flicks the lighter again, failing to ignite due to the frigid breeze blustering across the roof. Just his luck. All this bullshit always had to happen to him.
He rears his arm back to hopefully throw the lighter over the edge, before letting it drop to his side.
It's always like this with Serena. She asks him if he loves her, so he tries to show it. She freaks out and says it's too much , and he backs off. Then, she acts like she never told him to and gets mad that he doesn't do enough. It's exhausting, and if he's being honest, her patience isn't the only one that's wearing thin.
He kicks at the ground repeatedly, trying to work out his frustration—it isn't doing much.
Dan looks down at the lighter in his hand again. The wind has calmed just a bit, so maybe?
He sticks a cigarette in his mouth and cups his hand around the lighter.
Flick. Flick. Flick—it sparks to life with an orange glow. A moment later, he's got a lit cigarette to distract himself from his feelings. He isn't really a smoker, but he can attest to nicotine being a proper emotion-soother.
At least it's quiet up here. It's quiet, and he's drunk and therefore absolutely free to wallow as much as he wants. Even better, all the people he knows who could make fun of him are either blackout drunk or too engaged with their games of popularity to notice he's gone.
It's almost relaxing to think about how only Serena's thinking of him tonight.
Then, he hears the door to the roof slams open, revealing a guy having an argument with another person further down on the stairs. It immediately crumbles his peace, but he can try hard to ignore it.
He still glances over his shoulder, just to see.
The argument seems pretty heated, and the person at the top of the stairs is winning. Maybe he picked the wrong place to hide out.
He realizes he definitely chose the wrong place to hide when Chuck, he now realizes, turns around and immediately makes eye contact with him.
The scowl on his face turns into a foxy smile, and Dan knows he's in trouble.
"Humphrey," he calls out, with a sort of cruel delight in his eyes.
Fuck.
Dan quickly turns around, taking a shaky drag of his cigarette. He can hear Chuck walking up behind him and he wishes he could just disappear.
"I don't really feel like being your victim tonight, Chuck," he spits, but the wind and sounds of the city take the edge off his voice.
Chuck barks a laugh. "I wouldn't waste my time."
They both look out across the skyline for a moment, and Dan almost relaxes.
"So," he starts. "You're smoking on a roof, alone, at a party? While your girlfriend's here? And I thought you couldn't get lamer," he prods, almost incredulous.
"Uh, yeah, not sure about the girlfriend thing..." Dan winces at the thought of their fight and Serena's words ripping into him. He lowers his head into his palms, muffling his following admission. "But I guess I am."
Dan's not sure if it's shock or delight that keeps Chuck silent for a moment.
"Wow," he snorts. "Pathetic."
Chuck holds a hand out to him, and Dan places the cigarette between his fingers. He's not sure why he does, it's not like they were friends. Then again, he didn't have to stoop to Chuck's levels of douche.
It's warm where their fingers brush, and it's all Dan can do not to jerk his hand away.
He watches as Chuck blows out the smoke, how it curls around his face before being blown away by the wind. Some weird feeling he can't describe makes his heart ache, just a little. He pretends the only thing making his eyes burn is the bite of the cold.
He almost misses the cigarette being handed back to him.
"Serena wasn't too happy with you tonight."
"Y'know I'm starting to think, maybe, she never is."
Dan chewed on his lip for a moment, trying to figure out the odd feeling plaguing him.
"It's like, I always try to—" he paused, looking up at the man who was staring back at him with an unreadable expression. "Oh, what am I saying. You don't care. Better for you anyways."
"Aw, Humphrey, don't be sour. I'm feeling generous tonight," he laughs, finally sitting down beside him. He makes a broad, theatrical sweep with his arm. "Tell me of all your depressing, silly troubles."
Dan glares at him warily, but when Chuck doesn't make another joke, he just sighs.
"I don't know. I just, Serena got mad at me, said I wasn't putting enough into the relationship." He drags a hand down his face before shaking his head. "And, y'know, the worst part is that I wouldn't actually disagree with her? But it's like whenever I, like, go for it, she gets freaked out and says it's too much."
"Huh. You care a lot, don't you?"
Dan could hear the mock sympathy lying under his voice. Despite his efforts to stop it, a sickly shiver ran through him.
"Of course I do." he says plainly, placing his head in his hands.
"Poor, poor, Humphrey." Chuck places his arm around Dan's shoulders, shaking him slightly.
Dan ignores how the gesture somehow makes him barely feel better, ignores how he can feel Chuck's eyes on him.
"Jesus, even I didn't know Serena was so sometimey."
"Yeah, well, neither did I."
He ashes the cigarette on the corner of the platform before taking another drag. Then, he hands it off to Chuck.
"So instead of trying to work it out, you're… wallowing?"
Chuck laughs at his pitiful state and he can't help but feeling worse.
"Oh fuck off, Chuck. I'm not in the mood." He shrugs him off, wrapping his arms around his chest. I hardly ever am, he wants to say, I just put up with it for her. He keeps it to himself
Chuck blows the smoke into Dan's hair before mussing it up, and Dan knows the smell's gonna stick. He wonders what his dad would say about it. About his argument with Serena. His escape from the party. The scent of nicotine. Any of it.
"Wow." he says, vaguely shocked. "You're just gonna give up?"
"Technically, I already have. I can decide to put the effort back in if she stops being upset with me."
"That's pathetic, Humphrey." He rolled his eyes, messing up the other man's hair a bit. "You're lucky I tolerate you."
"The fuck does that even mean?" He mumbled to himself, before letting out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Chuck."
"I'd say always… but, you know. I wouldn't really mean it."
Chuck hands the cigarette back to Dan before standing up and walking closer to the edge of the rooftop
Dan watches dumbly and realizes he should be a bit nervous. They both should. The building is tall with no railing, and Chuck is definitely more shitface-drunk than he feels, and the wind wouldn't making balancing any easier, and they should both be a little nervous about Chuck standing at the edge.
This thought comes and goes, the fear eased by the buzz of nicotine and alcohol mixing together.
Despite this, his heart stops for a moment when Chuck turns around from the ledge, the wind ruffling his hair and scarf slightly. He looks almost pretty like this, but later he'll swear to himself that was the alcohol talking. The city falls quiet as he listens to the other man laugh at a joke he must've just come up with. He's so busy staring that he almost misses when Chuck says it.
"Maybe," he says, voice shaking from roughly concealed laughter. "You're just a really awful fuck."
Dan snaps out of whatever trance the moment put him in with a scoff. "Oh, fuck you." He promptly tries to forget the pink tint of the other man's cheeks. The cold. It's from the cold.
Chuck smiles, stepping back from the ledge, coming to stand in front of Dan. "I mean, do you even know how to kiss her? You know that girls like when you-"
"Ew, okay, gross. I really don't wanna hear that from you." he interrupts. "And I do know how to kiss, for your information, jackass."
The grin on his face widened maliciously.
"You gonna put your money where your mouth is, Humphrey?"
Dan swears his heart didn't start beating double time at that. He takes a drag of his cigarette, trying and failing to seem unbothered.
"I'm not gay, Chuck."
"Jury's still out on that one."
"You're not gay." He can feel the skin break as he chews on the edge of his lip.
He laughs again, sitting back down beside him. "I didn't say I was."
Dan stares at him for a moment before rolling his eyes.
Chuck scoffed at his expression and continued, "But I'm Chuck Bass, and that means I can do what I want."
"You're fucking with me."
"I can be."
"That's disgusting," he groans, lying back on the roof and looking up at the sky. "You're drunk."
"I'm almost always drunk, Humphrey. It makes talking to you far less boring."
Dan turns his head to the side, trying to ignore Chuck as he stands over him. It earns him a kick in the ribs.
"Ow. Please, leave." he groans, trying to ignore the other man's delighted laughter.
His laugh cools to a chuckle. "Oh, Dan," he sighs."
And yeah, that got his attention.
He glanced back at Chuck, who was still smiling down at him with that cunning look on his face. The wind ruffles his dark hair.
"Don't say you haven't thought about it. You fuck things up with Serena so often, you better be at least kind of gay."
"I really haven't," he lies, ignoring the insult. He's thinking about it in the moment, what would happen if he stood up and—
"Whatever, Humphrey. This is your chance, though." Chuck walks somewhere out of Dan's field of view, leaving him with his own thoughts.
Dan sits in the silence for a moment, telling himself he isn't considering the offer. This whole night is mistake after next.
"Chuck," he stands up quickly, trying to beat the other man to the door. When he turns around, warm lips collide with his own.
Fuck, he's not a bad kisser.
Chuck pulls Dans face closer to his own roughly, pushing out a quiet moan that was immediately swallowed. The force of the kiss made him falter, but the other man was quick to step forwards, deepening the connection between them.
Dan hasn't been kissed like this before and he can't say he isn't drowning in it.
By the time they separate, Dan's panting. He quickly wipes away the saliva that gathered at the edge of his mouth. They stared at each other, panting heavily, and the look in Chuck's eyes is starting to make him nervous.
Fuck. His dad is gonna kill him if this gets out. And Serena. And probably Blair.
His hand ghosts across the phone in his pocket.
When this gets out, he corrects. He definitely doesn't have the luck to keep this hidden.
He shakes his head, trying to get rid of the strange longing in his chest. "You're so fucking drunk, Chuck. That was such a bad idea, we are so fucked if someone finds out."
Chuck rolls his eyes. "Are you telling?"
"No, what? No, of course not."
"Then who cares," he groans, obviously uninterested by this line of questioning. Chuck turns away, resting his jaw in his palm. "You're being incredibly boring."
"I'm not being boring, Chuck, I'm being realistic. I mean, what, do you want Blair to think you're gay or something?"
He turns back quickly at that, annoyance flashing in his eyes.
"Don't. Don't go there," he bites, and Dan knows to leave well enough alone."
The ground is cool against his back as he lies down, sending goosebumps running up his arms and down his spine. He half hopes Chuck would stay, and wishes more that he'd get up and leave, and no evidence of this would be left behind.
"Well," Chuck began, sitting up. "If you're going to wallow in self pity for the rest of the night I can't help you."
He wants to deny it, but his voice comes out dry. "Okay."
"You at least shouldn't freeze up here. A waste of…"
He paused, considering.
"A waste of something, I suppose."
Dan didn't really feel like responding, especially if he's about to be convinced to go back to the party. No way.
"Sure."
Chuck sighs exasperatedly. "Sit up, Humphrey."
And for some weird reason he does. Later, he'll tell himself it's so Chuck would get whatever he was doing over with, and definitely not to look at him for a bit longer.
"Just, mail it back to me or something. I don't want someone to see you giving this to me in public." Chuck sighed, pulling off his black cable-knit scarf and wrapping it around Dan's neck. The touch was gentle, far softer than what was acceptable for two guys to share.
Dan couldn't help leaning into it a little bit.
He knew Chuck could tell he was staring at him, their eyes kept meeting momentarily, and Chuck was fumbling with the scarf, clearly doing nothing important at that point.
Fuck, fine. The alcohol is definitely messing with him now, but Chuck is just so pretty. The brown of his hair caught the light from the sky rises down the street, and he could barely see the flush on his cheeks from the cold.
Dan hated how he knew he'll dream about this night for a while, and for all the wrong reasons.
He caught Chuck's wrist, making them both freeze for a second before pushing his hand away.
"Cause you're not gay?" Dan questions with a dry humor that falls completely flat.
In the corner of his vision, Chuck's eyebrows furrow.
"Because I don't associate with the likes of you, nor your kind." Chuck pulls his wrist free and turns to leave.
"Right, and what kind is that?"
He doesn't get an answer. If Chuck decides to look back before returning to the party, Dan doesn't see it.
He busies his mind with the repetitive flicking of his lighter, trying to light another cigarette.
Dan doesn't want think about this, but it'll haunt him until he gives the stupid scarf back, probably longer than that. Maybe he could turn this feeling into some winning journal submission.
Somehow, he needs to get this out of his head.
Miraculously, his lighter catches, and he fumbles to light another cigarette. He lifts it to his now raw lips, taking as long of an inhale as he can handle.
The drag leaves him coughing miserably, but his head significantly more empty than before.
He stands, making his way towards the edge of the roof like Chuck did not long before.
The view made him under stand the smile he had when he looked back. It becomes overwhelming, all at once, how removed he is from this stupid city.
From his vantage point he can see groups of people walking in and out of stores, down the streets, back home or just leaving for the evening. If he holds his breath he can just barely feel the vibrations from the music playing in the floor below.
He takes a final drag and snuffs his cigarette on the railing before grinding it under his heel.
Being lonely gives Dan a pretty good perspective on the people around him, even if they could get skewed by his own issues.
He should probably apologize.
To Serena and, fuck he should probably talk to Chuck when the man wasn't wasn't drunk off his ass.
"Therefore, never," he jokes to himself, hardly lightening his spirits.
Fuck, he should really go find Serena soon, before that asshole gets to her.
He sighs, turning to follow Chuck's path back down the stairwell.