Dan and Blair are not dating.
That's what she whispers in his ear as he pushes her against the wall, his mouth pressing against the pulse point at the base of her neck. Then his mouth is crushing hers and there's nothing left to say.
They find all kinds of dirty places, bathrooms, the backs of movie theaters, and Blair gets used to biting back his name. He smiles at her and tells her that she's way too noisy. She tells him to shut up and fuck her. Dan doesn't argue with her.
Dan and Blair are not dating.
There is no dinner and a movie, no long talks over coffee. She arrives at the loft and he says nothing, just grabs her hand and the end up on the floor between the living room and bedroom, their clothes half on, half off, and then later in the bed. There is no pillow talk or staring into each others eyes. When they're done Dan sighs and puts his hands behind his head. Blair smiles at him and waits for a few more minutes before she rolls out of bed and pads out toward the living room to retrieve her clothes. She leaves after that but she's back the next night, or he's knocking softly on her bedroom door, or they're meeting at some random art exhibit only to end up half naked in the back hallway.
He does bring a movie over once. Vertigo, he says, smiling at her, saying something about Jimmy Stewart and she hears the word favorite. She nods absently, takes the movie out of his hand then takes his forefinger and places it in her mouth and sucks on it, her eyes refusing to leave his. Dan bites his lip but doesn't look away. Movies don't have a place here. It doesn't take long for him to forget the movie as he pushed her backwards, his fingers working the zipper of her dress down and she feels the edge of her bed on the back of her knees, then they're sinking into the softness of her duvet and their fingers fumbling to undress each other as quickly as possible.
Movies are for people who are dating and Dan and Blair are not dating.
They do try to go for a walk in the park once. It's a dampish kind of day and the pavement is glistening from the on and off again rain. Blair has covered her hair with a scarf and sunglasses, going incognito, Dan is wearing a wool coat and jeans, and they link arms as they walk. She thinks they look like any provincial couple, out for a stroll except that she finally pulls him into a stand of trees and Dan grins at her wolfishly because he likes to have sex outdoors and she tells him that efficiency is paramount because Blair Waldorf is not about to caught fucking in Central Park.
This goes on for months.
Blair is strangely happy.
She doesn't really notice when things change. Blair starts to linger, staying just a little bit longer after they have sex, curling into his side and sometimes even falling asleep. She notices that she likes the way his hand idly strokes her hair as her eyelids grow heavy and she lets herself relax into oblivion. When she wakes up she hears clinking from the kitchen. Blair points her toes, stretches out her legs and reaches her arms up above her head. She grabs one of Dan's detestable flannel shirts, the kind that she would ban if they were dating, but they're not, so she slips it on and ignores how it smells like him, and pads toward the kitchen. When he looks up from scrambling eggs and veggies he smiles and tells her that her hair is a mess, and it might have been cute if they were anything but friends with benefits. He points at a plate full of croissantas and says something about going to the bakery earlier. Blair ignores all this and grabs the cup of coffee he pushes across the counter, then sneers at him and tells him she'll be going soon. She doesn't bother to remind him that staying the night won't happen again.
Okay, he shrugs, and goes back to scrambling eggs. Blair huffs a little.
Fine.
They start to talk before fucking, Dan telling her about his day, how is classes have been going, Blair relaying her latest story about Dorota's mishaps. She's not sure when all of this started, this comfortable dialogue about nothingness that seems a lot more than not dating. Blair doesn't dwell on it, because Dan has a way of looking at her that makes her go all melty inside and makes her entire body tingle with pleasure, and he always kisses her in the right place on the inside of her arm that makes all thought flee from her head, and although they have tried to actually go out to dinner together a few times, it's always ended with her biting her lip to keep from screaming as he fucks her in the bathroom stall, so she's not too worried that they're somehow slipping into the realm of the dreaded D-word.
Dan Humphrey is so not her boyfriend.
Blair stares at Serena the day as her best friend spews the B-word at her. Serena is standing in their shared bathroom, tall and golden and beautiful tinged with fury, her hands on her hips, her eyes sharp and focused as she watches Blair's reaction.
She'd seen them, in the doorway a block way from the penthouse, and Serena said that she'd almost missed them because the day was almost over and dusk was creeping in, but then a street light had flickered on and she had to look twice because she didn't believe that Queen B and Lonely Boy were making out. Blair licked her lips because they'd done more than making out and then she mentally cursed Dan and his penchant for voyeurism.
Fuck you Humphrey.
Blair made a mental note to make Dan wait until they were safely in her bedroom before giving in to his wandering hands and eyes darkened by desire. Blair then made a second mental note to ignore her first mental note because the thought of that night made her skin start to tingle, and right in the middle of this uncomfortable conversation with Serena she wants him.
Fuck you Humphrey.
At first Blair denies it all, but when Serena describes exactly what she was wearing, Blair sighs heavily. She's not left with many options besides the truth.
We're not dating, Blair tells Serena. It's really nothing, well not entirely nothing, but pretty much next to nothing, and she assures Serena that whatever it is certainly isn't long-term, and she tries to pretend the pain in her friend's eyes is her imagination.
Blair ignores Dan for a week after that. He calls her a few times and leaves voicemails. Some are full of dirty sexy talk and Blair listens to them while she's naked, her hand sliding down between her thighs, and she tells herself that not seeing Dan is really no different than seeing Dan. Others are rambling missives about something funny he saw, or the way the light filtered through the trees, his new favorite movie, or how annoying his classmates were, and she likes the way his voice sounds, deep and rumbly. She remembers the way she can feel it rumble as she's lying with her hear pressed to his chest, tracing patterns across his skin. At the end of one Dan pauses and she can hear him take a deep breath, then he proceeds to violate all the terms of their not-dating agreement, and Blair curses him as she hears the words that make everything so much more complicated.
I miss you.
They are not dating. Blair is determined to remind him of this so she puts on her sexy lingerie, black, strappy, the kind she knows will drive all possible conversation out of Dan's head. There will be no discussion of movies, no telling her about his day, no banter. He will gulp and his mouth will be dry, and his lips will crush hers and they will fuck, because they are not dating, and this is the best way she can remind him of that.
The loft is empty when she lets herself in with the spare key, peering around the door, expecting him to look up from his laptop and greet her with a 'hey' that will quickly dissipate as she opens her coat and reveals his ultimate demise. Blair pulls her phone out of her pocket and jabs at his speed dial. When he answers she irritatedly asks where he is and Dan kind of stutters as he tells her that he's on the roof. Blair hangs up and heads to the stairwell, muttering about the uncivilized lack of elevator and she finally pushes out the heavy steel door onto the roof and immediately shivers with the blast of cold air on her skin that is mildly damp with sweat from the climb up.
Dan is sitting on a rusted out old chaise lounge, a book on his lap, and he looks up when she steps onto the roof, the rough tar paper surface crunching under her heels. Blair stops and stares, taking in his face, the way his neck moves as he swallows, his jawline that she's kissed so many times, the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck, and his eyes that hold hers with a steady gaze and she realizes something.
She's missed him too.
She should march over and open her coat and follow-through on her plan to remind him that they are not dating, except she doesn't, because all of the sudden she's not entirely sure the actually aren't, or maybe just not sure that they shouldn't be. Instead she walks over to him slowly, his eyes still holding hers, and she sees him lick his lips and Blair knows he wants to kiss her. She wants to kiss him too.
Blair picks up Dan's book and places it on the ground, then she slides onto his lap, feeling the chair sag with her weight, and she ignores the small fear that they could both end up on the ground. She brushes a curl off his forehead and he smiles up at her.
Hey, Dan says softly.
Blair shivers a little and Dan mumbles something about the day being kind of cold, and he reaches down to the other side of the chair and pulls up an old, worn wool blanket, and then his arm is pulling her down and she is nestling into his chest and his hand is stroking her hair and the blanket is pulled over them both, and she can hear his heartbeat.
Dan whispers into her ear something about the sunset and Blair decides she likes that almost as much as when he whispers dirty things as well. She sighs a little and his arm holds her tighter. It's nice, kind of like letters and sodas, and notes passed in homeroom, holding hands and going to afternoon movies, and Blair smiles a little and decides she'll wait just a little longer before she reminds him again that they're not boyfriend and girlfriend. Because Dan and Blair are not dating.
Fin