Title: The Balance of the Universe

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl, this is just for fun.

Spoilers: Through 4.11.

Pairing: Dan/Blair

Author's note: I used to be such a C/B fan, but the show has pretty much killed it for me. I find myself liking D/B now, even if they are only ever friends.

This is my first Gossip Girl story, and full of things that would most likely never happen (which is always the best way).

XXXXXX

She blamed the first time on temporary insanity.

The next few occasions? She'd stuck with insanity, and dropped the word 'temporary.'

Then it kept happening, and she realized she couldn't use the insanity excuse anymore. If she really were that crazy, she would have been committed a long time ago.

No, she hadn't a single reason to explain why she was spending time with Dan Humphrey over the holidays, but she was beginning to suspect something she couldn't – wouldn't admit to anyone.

She was lonely.

And he may not have been her first choice, or her 101st, but at least he was there.

She didn't even bother to try and think of reasons to avoid him anymore. In fact, things had gotten so bad that when she didn't hear from him on a particular day, she initiated their contact by calling him up with suggestions of places they should visit – yes, together!

Luckily, there weren't many people around to question her strange new…acquaintanceship (because it certainly wasn't friendship) with Dan. In fact, it was that very lack of people that had caused this in the first place.

All her friends were busy with their own families (Nate, Serena) or business dealings (Chuck). Both her parents were overseas, and she'd declined to join them, which left her with only one person who fit three necessary criteria: willing to spend time with her, wasn't intimidated by her, and associated (albeit vaguely) with people of importance, wealth, and/or status.

It didn't hurt that there was another matter of…well, that he could stand her. (Because despite what she might want others to believe, there were a surprising number of people in the city who downright despised her – jealousy could be so ugly).

Things weren't that bad when she could tell herself she spent time with him only out of boredom.

Until she realized, while spending Christmas with him in his loft, that she was actually enjoying herself. In Brooklyn!

Before that moment, she'd considered him an amusing way to pass the time – simply another person to exist with when the inevitable loneliness crept upon her (and he probably spent time with her for the exact same reason, because God knew Dan was not her biggest fan, or any fan of hers at all, really).

Their unspoken arrangement would surely end when their real friends returned.

But actually enjoying his company was a variable she had never factored into the equation, simply because it was so unexpected.

It was a horrifying development that shook her so badly that she abruptly stood and stuttered out a painfully bad excuse that she'd forgotten an important engagement, and made for the doors.

Dan was surprisingly fast, though.

"What could be that important on Christmas, Blair?" He asked, and he was in her way. He was always in her way.

"None of your business, Humphrey," she gave him her polite, 'leave me the hell alone' smile, and tried to step around him.

"Does anyone actually believe you when you say things like that?" He asked, distinctly unimpressed. "You're obviously lying."

"I am not," she said, trying to sound offended. "I have plenty of…business…things…to take care of. Out of my way." She waved him aside. He didn't move.

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the front door. "I'll move, if you tell me where you're going."

She narrowed her eyes at his unprecedented gall. How dare he question her? The only people who ever did that were, in order: Chuck, Serena, and occasionally her mother, or Dorota. And she'd put all of them in their place, when it was warranted. Dan Humphrey had no business thinking he was anywhere near that close to her that he could question her. Yet here he was, doing it anyways.

"I don't have to answer to you," she said, though she didn't sound as confident as she had a few minutes before. Dan's failure to blindly accept her first excuse had caused her to falter in an unexpected way.

"Yes, you do," he said. "Seeing as I just cooked you dinner. And bought you a present."

"I –" She broke off, his words undermining her indignant outrage. "You bought me a present?"

He half-shrugged, obviously uncomfortable and regretting that he'd said anything, because now it meant he had to go through with it and give it to her. "Well, yeah. It is Christmas, Blair."

"But I didn't..." she trailed off, feeling an emotion she hadn't in a very long time. Shame.

"I didn't expect you to get me anything," he smiled at her, lightly, and left the room. If possible, she felt even worse at his words. Why would he have expected her to get him anything? They both knew she wasn't that kind.

He came back thirty seconds later with a brightly wrapped gift. "Here you go. Merry Christmas."

"Uh, yeah, Merry Christmas," she said, hesitantly reaching out to take the present. She hadn't received anything else for Christmas. She had no doubt she'd get gifts from her friends in the next few weeks, and her parents the next time she saw them, but no one had bothered to give her anything on the actual holiday. How come Dan Humphrey had?

She took off the wrapping paper to reveal a Blu-ray movie collection of Audrey Hepburn classics.

When she didn't say anything, he cleared his throat. "I know you have most of those already, but I remember you saying you wanted to upgrade and get them on Blu-ray. I know they're your favorite so…I mean, if you don't like it, then I'll return them."

"Some of these aren't available yet," she said, confused.

"Yeah, I know a guy. So they may not be exactly legal, but I won't tell if –" he stopped when she leaned forward to hug him.

He didn't really know if it was acceptable to hug her back, but when she didn't immediately let go, he carefully reached out and did so.

She sighed into his shoulder and relished the few seconds peace where she didn't have to say anything, or act in a certain way; she'd never felt like she had to impress him. In fact, she'd never felt like she had to pretend to be anyone around him. She'd never realized before how relaxing that actually was.

She could merely be grateful, and thank him in the only way she knew how.

Because she'd been a bitch and not gotten him anything for Christmas, after all.

The thought caused her to pull away out of a renewed surge of guilt. "I have a present for you," she lied. "It's at home…I'll give it to you the next time I see you."

He saw right through her. "It's alright, Blair. You don't have to get me anything."

She couldn't look at him. Of course he would say that. He wasn't one of the self-absorbed people she'd known growing up who would have been offended – for months – that she didn't have an expensive gift to give them in return. She wished she had the courage to tell him that. "I do have something for you," she insisted. "And I appreciate the gift. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said warmly, and she glanced up in surprise, because he seemed to…mean it. (Among the people she knew, being genuine was a rare characteristic, to say the least). "Shouldn't you be going?"

"Huh?" She asked, confused.

"Your meeting, or whatever," he reminded her.

She blamed her next words on the two glasses of wine she'd had before she left the table (not because she believed it, but because it was the only safe excuse to tell herself). "I lied about that."

He sort of laughed. "I know. I didn't think you'd ever admit it, though. Since you seem to be in an honest mood…tell me, why did you want to leave in the first place?"

She gripped his present tighter and debated telling the truth, and what it might cost her in place of another lie. Some part of her (a deep, deep part) warned her that she might lose more, in the long run, if she lied.

Normally, she ignored feelings like that. Because who was looking that far ahead? She had more than enough to deal with in the next few days and weeks. It rarely occurred to her to glance months down the road, never mind years (aside from her fixed long-term goals, of course).

Only this time, she heard the vague warning of her sub-conscious, and she heeded it. (It would take her, literally, years, before she recognized the wisdom of that split-second decision on Christmas, a decade earlier, with Dan Humphrey).

"Because," she told him, with an honesty she rarely displayed even to those she loved (and Dan certainly wasn't among them), "you scare me."

"I…what?" He laughed. "I have to be the least-threatening person on the planet, especially to someone like you, Blair Waldorf."

She recognized that he said her full name solely for emphasis.

"You're one of the only real people I know, Humphrey."

"Is 'real' a euphemism for 'poor'?" He asked suspiciously.

He saw from the way she slightly withdrew that she was uncomfortable, and he didn't blame her. "No, well, maybe it used to be, but your father married rich so…now I just mean…real." She barely kept from wincing, realizing she'd told him something that she didn't want to admit, even to herself.

Dan didn't know quite what to make of it, but he settled for accepting it as a rare moment of Blair being real, herself. "I'm glad I'm here to keep you grounded," he said, and he was joking, but he had no idea how scarily accurate he was with that statement.

She didn't know when it began, but somehow, along the way (and it must have started long before the holidays), he'd become the one person she could look to for reality – he had no pretense for her. He didn't pretend to be someone else to impress her, because he had no desire to do so. And he didn't hide parts of himself from her, either. He was simply himself.

Was that what Serena had seen in him? Was that why she'd loved him so much?

Thinking of why her best friend had loved (still loved?) Dan Humphrey jolted her into remembering she had no business wondering about that.

"Why did you get me a present?" She burst out, before she could stop herself.

When he only tilted his head and didn't answer her, she kept talking out of discomfort. "I've done nothing but make your life miserable. Not to mention your sister's. You should hate me. Why don't you hate me?"

"What makes you think I don't hate you?" He asked, curious.

For a second she took his words at face value and they hurt with surprising sharpness. Luckily, her reasoning skills kicked back in before she could say anything she'd regret.

"You wouldn't have gotten me a gift that involved even a quarter of the thought of this –" she held up the movies, "– if you truly hated me."

"I guess you figured me out then," he shrugged. "I don't hate you."

His admission made no sense. (Neither did the fact that she wanted to hug him for it). "Why not?"

He opened his mouth a few times to answer, but shut it every time, finally going to sit in the living room, probably in order to get away from her. "I can't explain."

"Why?" She whispered, needing to know. Because, if after all she'd done to him, Dan Humphrey still didn't hate her…

"I don't know," he admitted. "Because you're Blair Waldorf? Because you are who you are? We both know you've done your share of…despicable things. But so have we all. And even I can see that most of the time, you do the things you do because your friends and family need you. You're not evil, Blair. Despite what I used to think."

She didn't know why, but she found herself walking the few steps to the couch and sitting next to him. She glanced at him with confusion and…gratitude. (Never…never – how could she be grateful to someone with the surname Humphrey?)

"Maybe I'm wrong," he said. "And being around you for a couple weeks has made me numb to your wicked ways."

She had to laugh. "Yeah, that's probably more likely."

"So…" he wasn't looking at her, but somewhere across the room. "Are you going to leave?"

"That depends, Humphrey," she pretended to read the back of one of the movies he'd given her. "Do you have a Blu-ray player or are you still hopelessly stuck in the Stone Age?"

"Actually, I do have one," he shot a look at her from the corner of his eye.

"Then I say we try out one of these," she said, handing him a movie she picked at random from the stack. "Unless you have a reason why we shouldn't – I'm still not convinced you haven't bought me a bunch of knock-offs from China in order to save money."

"No, they're real," he smirked. "My father married rich, after all."

"As well he should have," Blair said primly, as Dan put in Roman Holiday. "Is that your goal as well?"

"Don't be silly," he told her, as he rejoined her on the couch, "there's no need, now that I'm going to be named in a very substantial will. Besides, you don't need money to be happy."

She stared at him with utter incomprehension. "Yes, you do."

He glanced over at her. "Yes, you do," he said, but his words held no judgment.

They watched movies until dawn the next day, which was when he finally fell asleep on the couch. She watched him for a few minutes, before gathering her movies. She had to force herself to leave, once she decided that there would be too many questions if she stayed. Not from Dan, but from her – to herself.

XXXXXX

"I don't get it," Serena complained, spreading her arms in a gesture of bewilderment. "What is your obsession, B?"

"It's not an obsession," Blair argued. "I just need to come up with a gift for Dan. I told him I had one."

"Yes, and I've been hearing about this for weeks," Serena laughed. "Why do you care? It's almost March, he's forgotten by now!"

"Don't you get it?" Blair fretted, absently shaking her head at the dress Serena held up in question. "I'm beholden to him if I don't give a return gift. I owe him. I cannot owe a Humphrey. It upsets the balance of the universe."

"It upsets something alright," Serena said, watching her friend's restless pacing. "Remind me how you became friends?"

Blair shook her head, not in the mood to have this conversation again. The semi-friendship she and Dan started over the holidays had continued – to the surprise of both of them – as the months went on.

When Blair ignored her, Serena went back to focusing on dresses, switching between two of them as she stared in her mirror. The black one was more slimming, but the navy blue was sexier. "Should I go for more demure tonight?"

"Whatever," Blair said, irked that Serena wasn't giving her the attention she warranted. "They're both equally slutty. Can we get back to my problem?"

"Gee, thanks, B." Serena rolled her eyes and threw the dresses into the heap on her bed, before rummaging back in her closet. "Seriously, I haven't seen you this worked up in over a year. If I didn't know better, I'd think you liked Dan or something."

"What?" Blair scoffed, immensely relieved when she caught the humor on Serena's face. "That's crazy, I'm…I told you, I need to think of something. It's bothering me and that's all there is to it."

"Be honest with him then. I really don't see the issue," Serena told her, slipping on a gold gown. "What do you think?"

"It's fine," Blair muttered, barely looking at her friend, as Serena disappeared further into the closet. "And you've been no help at all, as usual lately. I have to go."

"What, did you say something?" Serena stuck her head out of her closet, only to find Blair had left. She shook her head in exasperation. Something was up with her – too bad she couldn't figure out what it was.

XXXXXX

It took Blair nearly twenty minutes to find him at the latest Bass fundraiser. When she did, she noticed with distaste that he was keeping company with Vanessa Abrams.

"Hi, Dan," she said cheerfully, as Dan stepped forward to kiss her on the cheek. Her voice noticeably dropped several octaves when she turned to the woman at his side. "Vanessa."

"Lovely to see you too, Blair," Vanessa rolled her eyes. "I'm going to get another drink."

Blair couldn't say she was unhappy to see the other woman go. "Dan, I'm glad we have a moment alone, I've been meaning to talk to you."

"What about?" He asked, as she took his arm and led him to the dance floor, where they automatically joined in with the other couples dancing.

Blair sighed, deciding to get it over with. "Your Christmas present."

"My what?" He asked, then registered what she meant. "Really? I know you didn't get anything for me, Blair. We've been over this already."

"Right," she sighed, "but that's not good enough and I was going to get you something, only it's been weeks and I still haven't been able to think of anything. So just tell me, what do you want? Name it and I'll buy it."

"Blair," he frowned, as he spun her around, "what's this about?"

"Just tell me," she repeated, inhaling sharply as he pulled her back to him.

"I told you I don't want anything," he insisted. She should have known he wouldn't give in that easily; he wasn't one of her circle. When had Dan Humphrey ever bowed down to her wishes? He never had, and never would.

"That's not good enough!" She was close to yelling, and he abruptly let go of her, so they stood facing each other. Those dancing around them were forced to avoid the suddenly still couple in their midst.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Blair."

"I expect you to tell me what I can get you for Christmas!" She shouted, scaring herself at how much he'd upset her.

"Blair, what I gave you…I didn't expect anything in return," he said.

"But that's…that's not how Christmas works," she argued.

"Maybe not in your world," he agreed, "but in mine? That's how giving works. If you automatically expect something from the person you're giving to, then what's the point?"

"I don't know. Holiday spirit? Generosity? I know I'm not the best at either of those, but I'm trying," she insisted, desperately. "You can't tell me I'm not."

He smiled slowly at the worry in her voice, because it told him more than her words ever could. "That's sweet of you, really. But I'm being honest when I tell you I don't want you to buy me anything."

"Surely there must be something," she argued. "You could have anything in the world, and you're telling me you want nothing. Not one thing?"

"Maybe one thing," he admitted, watching her face light up at the words.

"I knew it!" She cried, "Tell me and it's yours. And then you and me, Humphrey, are even."

"I can't tell you," he said cryptically. "I can only show you."

"Yeah, okay," she shrugged, expecting him to pull out his phone and show her a picture of whatever it was that he wanted.

Instead, he pulled her closer, kissing her with a passion that caused her to melt against him out of sheer surprise and…if she had to admit it, perhaps a wanting that she had never told anyone about, never mind her conscious self.

She kissed him back, because part of her thought it might be the only chance she would ever get.

It was that very thought which caused her to shove him away and back up a few steps in surprise – and terror.

"What was that?" She whispered, quickly looking around to see if she'd been set up. Had someone dared him to do that?

"Merry…belated Christmas," he said, and his smile was so free of any ulterior motive that she had to believe he'd only done it because he wanted to – because he wanted her.

It was incredibly wrong. And unacceptable. And wrong! She had mentioned wrong, right?

Why, then, had she wanted him as much, in that moment, as he seemed to want her?

She vigorously shook her head in an attempt to clear it. "I don't…"

"I know," he said softly. "I don't expect anything from you, Blair. I never have, remember?"

"Right, you've never…" she trailed off. He'd never expected anything from her – not a gift, not returned friendship, certainly not returned romantic feelings.

And he was right! Because Blair Waldorf would never feel anything for Dan Humphrey. It was ludicrous.

"You and me, we're impossible, Blair." He nodded at her slightly, in goodbye, and turned to leave the dance floor.

Wait. One. Minute.

"Who do you think you are?" She yelled at his back, and he stopped. He didn't turn around, even as others in the crowd started to give Blair their whole attention. "You have some nerve, telling me what's impossible. You don't tell Blair Waldorf what's impossible. I tell you what's impossible, Dan Humphrey. And I say –"

She stalled mid-sentence when he finally turned to face her. Because he was right, they were impossible. He wasn't anything she wanted. He didn't fit. He wasn't from the upper class, with plenty of money and the social position that went along with it. He didn't have connections. He didn't have the things that mattered.

What did he have? He was intelligent, at least; sometimes they talked for hours. And he was kind, which was actually sort of rare, at least in the people she knew. He was funny, too, in an offbeat sort of way. He made her laugh, even when she didn't want to. He was also honest, usually to a fault, and loyal, to those he cared about.

She would have continued thinking about it, if it hadn't suddenly hit her that the things she'd always thought were crucial to her future happiness…had never been the things that made her happy when she was with him.

Dan broke into her thoughts. "Blair, you're kind of staring at me."

"Right," she shook herself out of her daze. "You're right, we're impossible."

He nodded, having expected nothing less, and he was about to leave when she went on.

"At least, we were. But we're not anymore."

He leaned forward, as if he hadn't heard her correctly. "What?"

"We are possible," she said firmly.

"Are we?" He asked, hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels.

She took the last few steps toward him, pulling him forward by his tie so they could kiss again, this time not with a desperation of what might be their only chance, but with her trying to promise him that she'd do better.

To hell with the people around them and with everything she'd ever thought in her life that told her this was impossible.

Most of all, to hell with the rules she'd always lived by.

With him, becoming his friend, she'd never cared about class, or position, or wealth, or society's expectations.

She was Blair Waldorf. If she wanted to break the rules, she damn well could. Maybe she'd even write new ones.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered, when she finally pulled away.

He met her eyes with a stunned confusion that made her laugh. "Was that kiss my gift?"

"Not the kiss," she informed him. "Me."

He blinked once, twice. "You? As in, all of you?"

"As in…not impossible," she affirmed, kissing him again briefly, inwardly delighted at the shocked stares they were receiving from the people around them.

He pulled her closer. "I've wanted you for…"

"Forever, I'm sure," she finished. "Who wouldn't?"

He smiled at her, but it didn't deter him. "What's changed? Us becoming friends were a million to one odds, and I was shocked when that happened. But more than that? It has to be impossible. You're…you."

"Yes, I am," she affirmed. "And according to the old rules, you'd be right, so I decided to change them."

"You changed them," he said, confused.

"I'm Blair Waldorf. I can do whatever I want," she told him.

He nodded slowly, starting to grin. "That…I have never doubted. Or failed to use to my advantage."

Her eyes widened at the words, as she quickly put it together. "You played me. You totally played me!"

"I have no comment on that," he smirked.

"You used reverse psychology on me!" She gasped.

"Did I?" He feigned confusion.

She should have been furious. Instead, she inexplicably found that she was…happy. "I approve, Humphrey. I whole-heartedly approve."

He never knew it, but it was in that moment that Blair became convinced she'd done the right thing, for both of them. It might seem strange to others, but she'd realized he would give as good as he got, and she could appreciate that, even if she was his target.

"What did I do?" He mock complained.

"It's your own doing," she reminded him, smiling when he pulled her closer.

He should have known better than to tell her they were impossible. (Then again, he did, didn't he?)

XXXXXX

The end! I love all readers and reviewers. =)