A/N: Greetings! Just a few quick notes before you begin reading.

This story (quite often) strays from show canon and I've unwittingly insterspersed it with a a fair amount of book canon (nothing too in-your-face, just Dan's interest in poetry/Keats and a few minor character traits) so I hope that doesn't bother anyone too much - I promise you it wasn't intentional!

Although Dan/Blair is listed as a pairing, it is by no means the endgame couple (although it might be) and I've decided that that will remain a mystery up until the very end (although if you'd really like to know, feel free to shoot me a PM or ask me in a review). This story does heavily feature an original character, as well as a slash pairing, so if that's not your cup of tea, this may not be the fic for you.

Unfortunately, only the plot (and Matt Dainard) belong to me - everything else is owned by the lovely people who gave us Gossip Girl. The title of the story is from the brilliant poem of the same name by John Keats.

Enough of me rambling, I hope you enjoy this, and reviews make me unreasonably happy! *hugs*

It's stupid.

It's stupid and Dan knows that, he effing knows, but he can't seem to stop replaying that kiss in his head – the way Blair's tiny hands had fisted in the lapels of his jacket, the way her mouth had gone pliant against his in a way that seemed so natural somehow, so practiced, even though it was obviously their first time. That kiss had felt right. When he'd kissed Blair, he felt like things might work for the two of them, like they could put aside their backgrounds and differing worldviews and just be. Forget everything and take a chance on what Dan lovingly referred to as Dair in his head.

But, alas, every time Dan is so much as in her general vicinity, he manages to make a complete and utter fool of himself.

Take last night, for example. Serena'd asked him over to help her with her latest English assignment. He didn't actually think she'd been lying – Serena was sweet and bright and could do well if she tried, but English just wasn't her strong point. Not the way it was Dan's, that was for damn sure.

He hadn't wanted to go initially (he wasn't entirely certain that those pesky lingering feelings for Serena had completely disappeared yet and besides, he still had a long and daunting paper to write for Professor Heeley's political science class), but she'd pointed out that it was a Golden Opportunity for him to steal the upper hand from a decidedly smug Blair Waldorf, and so he'd reluctantly given in.

Five hours later, he'd found himself with his face inches from the toilet, his stomach twisting and griping, with Serena's comforting hand on his back, and an amused Blair in the doorway. No, food poisoning had definitely not been part of the plan. Even Serena's repeated insistence that Blair was no stranger to throwing up herself hadn't made him feel better about the whole situation. He'd just blown his one big chance at impressing Blair, not to mention his stomach now hurt like a bitch.

Twenty-three hours later, he's lying on his bed face down (the food poisoning having done its worst), marveling at his shitty luck (no, seriously, it is not possible for anyone to have worse fortune than him at this point) and glaring at Jenny's old (and admittedly rather musty) Teletubbies duvet when the doorbell rings. He frowns. The only person he knows who'd show up without calling is…

"Blair?" Dan crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively, not moving out of the way. "What are you doing here?"

Blair's fox-like face breaks into a smile (which is really more of a smirk, Dan can't help but note) and she all but pushes Dan aside before striding purposefully into his apartment. "Don't think I don't know what that little study session with S was really about, Captain Obvious." She turns around to face him and her eyes are challenging, her posture casual.

Dan tries to pretend he doesn't know what she's talking about, and in his usual bumbling way, decides that this would be an excellent time to start preparations for those pity waffles he'd been fantasizing about earlier. No, this is definitely not a way to avoid eye contact, why would anyone think that? "You're delusional," he says in what he hopes is an offhand tone. This is somewhat offset by the way he slams the plastic breakfast plate on to the counter, and Blair raises a knowing eyebrow.

"Oh, am I?" She walks over to the counter until they are uncomfortably close, and whispers, right into his face. "Pot, meet kettle."

Dan takes an involuntary step back, and his back smacks against the hard tile of the kitchen slab. Wincing, he defensively retorts, "Um, excuse me, how am I delusional? I'm not the one that drove two hours out to see a person I'm 'not really into' and was 'just using to get over Chuck'."

Blair doesn't look the slightest bit fazed, but her smirk does grow a tiny bit wider. "I didn't know you were trying to get over Chuck. Interesting. I don't really know if he's your type, though…"

Dan rolls his eyes and walks around the counter to get to his storage cupboard. "Hilarious. Really. Sidesplitting. And anyway, that's hardly the point."

"Pray tell, Humphrey, what, in your oh-so-expert opinion, would the point be then?" Blair's tone is playful, but there's warning in her flashing eyes.

"The point is that we kissed, and you subsequently admitted that you had no interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with me." Surprised at his own newfound courage, he ploughs on with single-minded determination. "Ergo, you led me on and I no longer have any interest in remaining friends with you." Dan exhales, feeling slightly drained by this unexpected announcement. "And I'm sorry, but seriously, what are you doing here?"

Blair is no longer smirking, just looking at Dan as though she's never really seen him before. "I came to ask if you wanted to walk to class with me, you self-important bastard," she says, grabbing her purse and keys. "Maybe apologize for the things I said earlier. But now that I know how you feel…" She shoots him a tight-lipped little smile. "Forget I said anything. See you in class, Humphrey. Or not."

And Dan just groans, and slides onto a bar stool, because even if he wanted to stop her, what would he say?


"And so then I was like, no, Serena, if Dan had gone over last Thursday, he would have told me, because we're friends, and dicks over chicks and all that crap. But she was really determined that you did, so I guess I just wanted to clarify, not that it really matters, since I'm not dating her, nor will I ever be if things keep going the way they are, but I'm still kind of… you know, into her, and there's bro code that we're supposed to honor, so…"

Dan snaps out of reverie as Nate tails off, looking at him expectantly. "Um."

Nate folds his arms in front of his chest and stops walking. "Were you listening at all, Humphrey?"

Dan too grinds to a halt, trying to look innocent as he hunts around in his subconscious for some snatches of the one-sided conversation he appears to have missed. "Of course, of course, I wouldn't… uh, Serena. And something else about code and…" He stops and looks apologetic. "I'm sorry, man, I'm a bit distracted, what were you saying?"

"You've been acting weird all morning," Nate says, frowning, as he continues their walk to Columbia, and Dan shrugs as nonchalantly as he can. "Anyway, what I was saying before was… Serena called me while I was at Chuck's the other day and told me that you were over the other day. True or false?"

Dan presses his lips together, prepared to confess and explain the reason behind the impromptu lunch date, when he suddenly hears Blair's voice from a few nights ago in his head, and looks up sharply. That's your problem, Humphrey. That's the reason you'll never have a lasting relationship with anyone in New York – not a romantic one, not a friendship. You're too honest. Sometimes it's necessary to lie. Sometimes you do it to preserve something more important.

She'd been talking about Serena - this was before Serena had walked in on the two of them talking heatedly in the foyer of the Waldorf house and put two and two together herself – but prior to that, Blair had come up with the most logical explanations for why honesty was never the best policy. With Blair, there was always a reason.

"I…" Dan pauses, bites his lip as he takes in Nate's hopeful expression. What should he say? Take his own advice and probably drive a wedge between himself and the best male friend he'd ever had, or take Blair's advice and begin weaving his tangled web of deceit? Well, he finally reasons, if I'm honest, being me has only ever brought me loneliness and despair. Following someone else's advice might actually do me good. "… Don't know why she'd say that," he finishes, hoping that his tone is convincing enough to put Nate's mind at ease.

Nate's face breaks into an impossibly large smile. "I didn't think you would. I mean, you said I had a chance, and I know how you are about honoring pacts…" He grins at Dan and slaps him on the shoulder. "You're a real buddy, man. You know that, right?"

Dan just winces and forces a smile, as they round the corner and the beautiful statuesque buildings of Columbia come into view. He stares up at them with something akin to wonder, because they're still so beautiful, and he still can't believe that he did enough to be allowed to attend this incredible institution that he's been dreaming about since he was old enough to know what it was. The day he'd received his acceptance had felt like some kind of amazing hallucination, to see those words printed officially on that stiff thick piece of paper…

Nate is immediately distracted by a lacrosse notice right near the entrance, and punches Dan lightly in the shoulder before jogging off to check it out. Dan sighs, watching him go. Lying is never easy, but Nate is more trusting than most Upper East Side kids, and what's more, he trusts Dan implicitly, trusts him not to betray him, not to go behind his back and secretly meet the girl he's been obsessed with for months, and yet Dan went ahead and did it anyway. He really hopes Blair is worth it.


Dan is late to class today. This is really nothing new, because Dan is never on time – he's always scrambling for last night's homework at the last minute, hunting desperately for his other shoe, getting distracted by one Blair Waldorf near the girls' washroom… well, okay, fine, maybe this is the first time. But she just looked so damn desirable, straightening her short preppy little skirt, and combing her fingers through freshly washed chestnut locks almost unconsciously, as she exited the bathroom, presumably to head to her next class. Had she seen him? Had she fuck. Clearly, she had not been keeping one eye out for him the way he had her. And really, Dan tells himself, as he stands in the doorway of the hall, waiting for Professor Kelsey to notice him. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. I mean, I did let her know that I'm not interested in being her friend, let alone anything else last night, so her ignoring me should be a step in the right direction, right?

Right?

But who is he trying to kid? He's wanted Blair for as long as he can remember, though that want has always been overshadowed by his Serena-worship or Vanessa drama. He's wanted her, and he might finally have a chance with her, so why is he continually blowing it?

Except that… except that he'd just told her what they both already knew. A Humphrey/Waldorf friendship can never work, and they can't be anything else because Blair isn't willing to give up on her (absolutely ridiculous, and if truth be told, rather unhealthy) relationship with Mr. Chuck Bass. So. That's that. And he needs to stop obsessing, because this is never going to work, not in a million years.

Professor Kelsey finally turns, catches sight of him, and immediately stops talking, shooting him an exasperated look. "Really, Humphrey? This is the third time this week you have been late for my class, and I got lost simply isn't going to cut it anymore."

Dan opens and closes his mouth a few times like some demented fish. He had indeed been about to say just that.

Kelsey rolls her eyes and shakes her head at him. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder why you took the class at all," she says, and although her tone is admonishing, the corners of her mouth are twitching, and in that second, Dan knows that she read previous week's paper. She shoots him a quick not-particularly-threatening glare before waving him in and turning back to the board.

Dan scurries in and takes a seat right at the back of the class, trying to avoid the amused stares of his classmates. Really not the best way to kick off his first month at Columbia, he can't help but think, wanting to kick herself, and is so distracted by his misfortune and embarrassment that Professor Kelsey has to call his names three times before he looks up at her, startled.

"… I'm sorry?" He winces, his cheeks coloring, as the students around him snicker. Professor Kelsey looks most displeased.

"I was asking you about last week's assignment," she tells him. "I particularly enjoyed your take on your favorite poem of the nineteenth century, and was wondering if you would be so kind as to read it out loud to the rest of the class."

Dan just gapes.

"Of course," she says, and annoyance tinges her voice. "If you're too busy, that's perfectly understandable. It's not as though you attend this class to learn or anything, no. This is the break between the other more challenging classes, is it not? No need to pay attention here." She seems to be building momentum, and Dan decides that this is probably the best time to cut in and defend his stance.

"No, no, of course not, sorry," he says, fumbling for words, his hands twisting nervously in his lap. "I'm sorry, Professor Kelsey, that's not it at all. I just…" He runs a hand over his face, trying to explain it in a way that will satisfy her and get her off his case. "That paper… it's kind of personal. That last bit," he lowers his voice slightly, though he knows that it is fairly futile, seeing as he is sitting right at the back, the furthest from her at the moment. "About Keats and La Belle Dame Sans Merci… the analogy and the metaphors I used related to, um, another incident or should I say, relationship in my life, and it's…" He shakes his head, unable to offer more. Kelsey's expression softens.

"While I sympathize, the point of a class is the dissemination of knowledge, and an English major like yourself should know that that implies that there is a certain amount of give-and-take involved. Here in Literary Criticism, we encourage sharing, not just with the teacher, but with the other eager minds in this class that are…"

"Excuse me, Professor? If I may?"

Dan turns his head sharply to fix his gaze on a dark-haired boy with a vaguely haughty expression, sitting casually in the seat next to Dan's with his hand lazily outstretched. His voice is colored by what seems to be an English accent and Dan squints at him, confused at both the interruption and the foreign tonality.

Kelsey turns to him, puzzled, but nods once, a tiny tilt of her great leonine shaggy head.

The brunette smiles, and although Kelsey probably hasn't picked up on it, Dan has spent too much time with Blair not to recognize when someone is being deliberately patronizing. "Actually, you'll find that most true," he smiles again, and here, no one can miss his emphasis on the last word. Professor Kelsey narrows her eyes. "Patrons of English prefer not to share their work unless they are one hundred percent satisfied with the end result. Plagiarism does run rampant in our circles, unfortunately, and I always say better safe than sorry." Professor Kelsey opens her mouth, undoubtedly to dispute this claim, but the raven-haired boy places both elbows on the table and leans forward ever-so-slightly, his eyes sparkling, clearly not in the mood to lose this argument. "I certainly didn't expect to have to share my work with a group of fellow budding writers – for me, my writing is intensely personal. I don't share unless I absolutely have to. And, if Daniel here feels the same way, I think you'll find that he is perfectly justified in kindly declining to do so. Just my two cents." He leans back in his seat, clearly uninterested in whatever counter-argument Kelsey will inevitably throw his way.

After spluttering incoherently for a few seconds, Kelsey finally goes with a truly cutting, "And you might be?"

She receives a polite little smile and a slightly arched left eyebrow in response. "Matthew Dainard. Matt. Mattie. Whatever tickles your fancy."

Kelsey presses her lips together, clearly trying to come up with some crushing retort, but she eventually settles for, "Well. Mr. Dainard. I think you will find that in my class, we do things my way, and I would like Daniel to…"

Matt sighs and lays the pen he had been twirling idly down. "Actually, Professor Kelsey, I think you will find that Literary Criticism has been a class at Columbia for over a hundred and fifty hears. And I'm fairly certain that students cannot be forced to expend energy on perfecting their public speaking skills when their real strengths lie in putting pen to paper and writing what they feel instead of talking about it. Some of us are just not that way inclined. Myself not included," he adds, almost as an afterthought, and flicks his dark hair out of his eyes.

Dan just sits there, staring with his mouth open, at Kelsey's affronted expression and also at this boy's cool unconcern. However, it has become quite evident that he will not need to share his innermost thoughts with this class of strangers, not if Matt Dainard has anything to say about it. And for that, he can't help but be oddly grateful.

"Right, well," Kelsey eventually says, shaking her head, and looking disconcerted. "I suppose Daniel will ultimately have to make the choice." She fixes him with a hopeful gaze, her eyes pleading. She really doesn't want to lose to this wily minx of a boy, he realizes, but he also really does not want the whole of Literary Criticism to know that Blair has 'cast a spell on him' and that 'her previous lovers gathered around him, shouting words of caution'. He shakes his head firmly.

"Actually, Professor Kelsey, if it's okay, I would really like to give it a miss this time," he says, and the boy on his left examines his fingernails with what Dan privately thinks is suppressed glee.

Kelsey seems to deflate right before her eyes and Dan feels a pang of guilt. Not severe enough to change his mind, not nearly, but enough to make him drop his gaze and feel like a grade-A tool. "That's… well, that's… your decision. I personally felt as though your essay showed both maturity and clarity of thought, and… well, it doesn't matter." She smiles at him, though it seems forced. "Now, anyway. Moving on. Although Mr. Dainard doesn't feel like I should ask any of you to read your papers out loud against your will, there was another paper that I thought was beautifully written – not overdone, poignant. Affecting." She begins to rifle through the papers on her desk, and continues with her back turned. "I know that you're all wonderfully talented writers, but I feel like this paper really stood out, really made its mark…"

Dan scribbles distractedly in the margins of his notebook, determinedly not meeting Matt Dainard's eyes. He doesn't know what to say. Had this Dainard boy been sticking up for him? Using him to take the piss out of Kelsey? Trying to alleviate boredom? Either way, he doesn't quite know how to react, so he does what he normally does instead – nothing.

At the front of the class, Kelsey is still gushing about this brilliant paper, gesticulating excitedly with her free hand as she pulls it out of the pile. "And I would just like to congratulate the person behind this little piece of prose for managing to so beautifully capture the mood of Eliot's eerie poem, and that person is…"

There is a long stifling pause, as her smile disappears, and she closes her eyes.

"Matt Dainard."

Dan looks up, to see Kelsey with her fists clenched and her jaw twitching. On his left, Matt says nothing, just continues to smile in a way that could be modest, but from what he's seen of this English enigma, probably isn't.

"Well done, Dainard," Kelsey says, unsmiling. "You write very well."

Matt nods his thanks.

Dan thinks the room might explode from sheer awkwardness. He thinks he would probably be able to hear a pin drop in this uncomfortable silence, would hear it loud and clear.

Kelsey seems to lose her nerve at the last moment, and instead of requesting Matt to read what he had written out loud, stuffs it back in the pile hurriedly, clearing her throat loudly a few times as she does.

"… well," she says finally. "I just wanted to draw attention to those two… eloquent pieces of writing before… continuing with the rest of my class. Which I will do so now. Yes. So. Everyone kindly open page 39 of your Golden Lyres."

But Dan has already tuned out.