Prospects and Expectations
Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl, Dan, or Serena. However, this plot is my brainchild.
Plot: "Uttering the title: Prospects and Expectations, she wonders what's in store for her reading pleasure." What happens when Serena finds a futuristic story about her love and life? How will she react? And what does Dan have in store for them?
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Serena's Louis Vuitton, thigh-high, high-heel boots, clonk along the floor as she walks up the hallway, searching for Dan. She taps once, twice, three times on the wooden door.
"Dan?" Serena calls. "Dan! Are you home?"
With the silence that answers her, she takes that as a no. She scratches her head. Perhaps she should just wait for him. He's sure to drop by home eventually. She tries calling him once more ... no answer. Her news isn't that important, but she does love sharing things with him, he is always genuinely happy for her. This thought makes her feel instantly warm and fuzzy inside and a smile magically materialises on her face.
Finding an unlocked door handle, she assumes that he intends to return sometime soon.
She lets herself in and sits down at the table, setting her hot half-full coffee down to relieve the burn.
Serena never usually has time just to sit and after only five minutes, she starts to become fidgety. She wonders if Dan will mind if she has a bite to eat. Gazing into the semi-stocked, fridge she finds a half-eaten plate of vanilla slice. She takes it out and sets it on the bench next to a pile of papers. Unaware of what they are, or what they hold, she ignores them. Taking two pieces of the slice and hoping that it'll get her through until Dan returns, she replaces the container in the fridge.
As she goes to sit back down, she passes the pile of papers one more. She decides that Dan won't mind her taking a little peek. Reoccupying her seat at the table, she nibbles at the corner of the snack.
Uttering the title: Prospects and Expectations, she wonders what's in store for her reading pleasure.
As she reads, her heart beats faster against her ribcage. Her blue eyes flash to the top of the page: it's dated only a few weeks ago, nonetheless it's another story about their relationship. She hesitates; can she really go there again, can she really read another story about their relationship – how he sees – saw it? Maybe he interprets it differently this time. Maybe he paints her as the devil that ended their relationship, the cause for all of their problems. But he has such a unique, fascinating writing style that pulls her in and now she can't stop, she has to find out.
A few pages in, she discovers that it's not just their relationship he is writing about, but their friends too: Chuck and Blair, Nate and Jenny...
–
Five hours later
Serena's eyes are watering and her heart is breaking into a million little pieces, even though it is a happy, joyous ending for everyone.
The slice is still only nibbled at the corners and her burning hot coffee has gone cold with neglect. The door handle clicks behind her and the door swings open. Dan enters, his man bag over his shoulder. He looks temporarily shocked to see a pretty young girl sitting in his house – not that he would ever complain about such a phenomenon.
"Oh, hey Serena." He realises immediately that something is not right. Her eyes are moist, her face an unusual blotchy red, indicating to him that she had been crying endlessly. Dan's about to ask what's wrong when he recognises the papers that she's holding tight. He runs over at the speed of light and in a ninja movement, he snatches the draft from her delicate fingers.
A tear falls from her sapphire eyes, and a pained, questioning expression envelops her features. Her lips part as though breathless.
"I don't understand," she whispers when Dan comes up with nothing but wide, shocked eyes.
"It's not you," he tries. Serena can hear the hope in his voice, and recognises the pleading undertone, but she's not going to go easy on him. Absolutely not. She's fuming, angry, livid – no words can explain, and he will hear those feelings.
Sick of being towered over when it usually isn't the case, she stands up. Snatching the draft right back from him, finding a page with her name, she replies fiercely: "I'm pretty sure I go by the name of Serena van der Woodson."
They give each other long, suffering looks. Searing intensity burns between them. He can't come up with a counterargument, as hers is so very, very strong and so very, very true.
"Dan ... what does this mean?" she asks. Now she is the one with the pleading undertone. "You wrote Vanessa as a successful director and camerawoman for an adventure program. Chuck and Blair in some sort of twisted love story – which you portrayed amazingly, I have to say," she allows, her voice softening with much deserved praise, but she fires right back up again: "Nate as some sort of man whore who finally settles down with your little sister! All of them make complete and utter sense – aside from the ending on that last one – and ours. No one else's stories matter. None of them hold any importance because then I read our story: married with children? Is that what you want, Dan?" her voice is raised and her cheeks are flushed. She's confused and lost. The story has taken her on a ride she knew she wasn't going to like, but she got on anyway, despite her uncertainty, and now it's made her dizzy and unwell.
They look at each other intensely once more, stern glares unshifting.
"No one was supposed to find it," he explains as though it makes everything better, as though it can obliterate the past five hours of reading like an eraser over pencil.
"Then you shouldn't have left it lying about for anyone to find," she retorts quickly.
"I left it in my own home, Serena. I didn't think anyone would break in and take it upon themselves to read the whole thing. Wait, how long have you been here?" he asks, realising what it must have taken for her to know the character plots.
"I just want to know where it's coming from, Dan. We haven't been ... anything in such a long time and this story was written only weeks ago," the blonde says, recalling the dates he imprints at the top of each page for personal reference. She gives in: "It was beautifully written by the way. I'm going to have the perfect life with the most amazingly talented ballerina children if my life turns out anything like you've written."
He smiles diffidently at the praise, knowing that they wouldn't just be her 'amazingly talented ballerina children' but they would be his as well.
"Dan, please talk. Explain this to me. There's no point trying to evade it, trying to hide from it. It's out there now and we should be honest with each other," Serena says, moving close to him, her voice soft and comforting as tries to elicit an explanation. Deciding to get straight to the point, she asks sternly, "Dan, do you still love me?"
He looks at her quickly, unprepared for the question. He considers the answer he wants to give her and the answer she wants to hear. Are they the same?
"Do you still love me, Serena?" A question answered with a question. And such difficult questions they both pose.
The features of their faces yield as they buckle under the pressure. Dan gives in first with a little nod. He's about to apologise when she says, "So do I ..."
She shouldn't have found out this way. It should have been romantic, sweet, the perfect declaration of love, not a simple nod of the head. But her reply is somewhat similar to what he wants: she loves him too.
With that in mind, he cups her face in his hands and kisses her, the past coming back. She drops the future to the floor, the fervour of the moment requiring both of her hands to rummage through his hair, searching for something. They need each other, they both know that. But living as friends and only friends when they had been more, and could be more was killing them silently on the inside. The truth puts a smile on their faces respectively, and they can feel that as their lips move against each other in a steady rhythm. Kissing the other is like coming home after a long trip away.
Writing the future of himself and Serena may well have been the greatest thing he had ever done for his here and now. Who knew what it was going to bring for them ...?
Perhaps 'amazingly talented ballerina children'.
–
Thank you once again to my wonderful beta silver. wings. 34. Such a brilliant person and beta!
I hope you liked my story! Please let me know what you think in a review, always appreciated.
CGIL xx