A/N: Not enough B/N interaction on Gossip Girl! C/B's growing on me, but I still feel a staunch loyalty to the books (even though there was no established canon) and therefore to my favorite pairing, B/N. Can't wait to see the next episode; I love Blair mean. Hope you like this one! :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.
Lighthouse
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Blair Waldorf clenched her tiny little fists. A blackout was not what she needed; clearly, this wasn't her day. Or her week. Or her month. Or her whole fucking summer. It was bad enough that Marcus wouldn't touch her and Chuck would, and that Nate had to bring his drama along with him to her party, but this was pushing it. She heard gasps and whispers. She regained her composure and smiled, despite the fact that it was pitch black and no one could see a thing.
"Everyone!" she called out, her voice wavering. "Stay calm. I'm sure the power will be back on in a second." Blair fidgeted with the fabric of her dress, counting to ten in her head and wishing desperately that the generators in the building would kick in. "It'll be fine," she reassured her guests and herself. She walked slowly, making sure not to bump on anyone with her four-inch Jimmy Choos.
"Dorota!"
Dorota pushed through the guests and spotted a figure with a sparkling tiara walking aimlessly. She quickly followed the person and got a hold of the familiar frame of Blair Waldorf. "Yes, Miss Blair?"
"Call the power company, quick," Blair said urgently, in hushed tones. "And where are our candles?"
"Second floor, storage room," Dorota answered. "Are you alright?"
"Just make sure you have matches ready," Blair said, "I'll get the candles. And find out what's wrong with the generator!"
"Right away, Miss Blair." Dorota nodded. Blair quickly made her way towards the stairs, mumbling quick apologies and reassurances.
--
"Vanessa?" Nate called out, fumbling blindly into the throng of people. "Vanessa?" He swore silently. He continued on walking until he felt the sharp pain of someone's stiletto heel digging through his loafers. "Watch it!" he cried out, hastily making his way towards the stairs. Knowing the Waldorf penthouse by heart, he made his way into the storage room, where he knew Dorota kept the flashlights and first aid kits.
He turned the doorknob and found that he couldn't get in. He pushed his way through, and upon hearing a small cry of pain did he only realize that someone, not something, was blocking the door. "What the fuck?" the voice said, opening the door fully.
"Blair?" Nate asked.
"Nate?" She shone a flashlight in his face.
"Nate!" they both heard someone call. Nate quickly limped inside and Blair turned off her flashlight. He shut the door and remained quiet. It was the duchess. "Nate!"
Blair turned the flashlight on again, hearing the voice fade away. She saw a depression on Nate's shoes. She sighed disapprovingly. "Those were Prada. You are so irresponsible," Blair said, looking through the drawers.
"Yeah, like it's my fault someone stepped on me." Nate shook his head. "Have you seen Vanessa?"
"It's not even cute anymore," Blair commented. "Yes, she's right over there, hiding from you in that box." Blair rolled her eyes. "Take off your shoes," she instructed, pulling out a small red bag.
"I don't need your help," he said coldly.
"Shut up, Nate." Blair said. "And sit down."
Blair crouched down and removed his sock. She then proceeded to apply a balm to the bruised area, which made Nate squirm. "Hey!" he said, jerking his foot away, "that hurt!"
"That's because your foot was hammered by a stiletto," Blair said, smiling wickedly. "Now hold still." She gently applied the rest of the balm and covered the area with some gauze. Nate watched her work, beads of sweat rolling down her face, reminding him of the tears she shed when he told her to leave...
"Done." Blair stood up and turned around, tending to the box of candles on the shelf. Nate looked up at her.
"Thank you," he said.
"You'll probably want to use a slipper." Blair said, her back still turned. "You left a pair here—" she stopped herself, avoiding the topic of their failed relationship. Nate could see Blair wipe something from her face with a small towel from one of the drawers. He wanted to believe it was extremely hot in the closet.
"I'll be fine," he assured. "And if I remember correctly, you hid those from me."
Blair chuckled. "You never found them."
Nate put on his shoe and stood up, holding on to the door for support. His foot hit one of the empty frames, and he immediately grabbed onto Blair. She stood him up and gave him a metal rod for support. "You were always good at hiding things," he smiled sadly. He let go of her shoulder slowly.
"It was for the best," Blair said, trying to sound cheerful and sarcastic. "Those slippers were out of season anyway."
"But I loved those slippers," Nate reasoned out, his voice low. Blair felt a faint flutter in her chest.
"I'll send them to you tomorrow then—"
"No," he suddenly interrupted. "I'll pick them up next week."
"Alright," she acquiesced, smiling.
"Great," he smiled back.
Another scream was heard downstairs, along with the sound of breaking glass. Silently berating herself for slipping, Blair quickly moved into action, grabbing the box of candles and the flashlight.
"I should get these downstairs."
"I'll help you," he offered, reaching for the box. He felt her little fingers clutch onto the edges.
"I'll be fine," she pulled back, "you're injured, remember?" and, she added with a hint of sadness, "you were looking for Vanessa."
"Oh," Nate replied, after a beat. "Right, Vanessa."
Nate opened the closet door, a gust of cool air welcoming him. Blair made her way out of the closet slowly, trying to balance holding the box in heels. Nate reached towards the box again, seeing Blair struggle, when he heard Dorota's voice.
"Miss Blair," Dorota said, reaching the top step. Nate frowned; he loved Dorota, but right now he wanted to push her down the stairs. "Power will be back on momentarily. Let me help you with those," she said, seeing Blair carrying the box of candles.
"Thank you, Dorota," Blair said, grabbing the flashlight and shining a path for them to take. With Dorota leading, the shine from the flashlight caught the partygoers attention, more so the looks from Blair and Nate. If it weren't so dark they would have taken a picture and pitched another idea to Gossip Girl.
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