But I Came To Love You Anyway
AN: Title from The Black Keys' (fitting) song "Lonely Boy". This takes place in the upcoming year. I'm a sucker for sad panda!Dan and I think his mommy issues have been wholly unresolved, so... here you go! Reviews are love :)
If you had told Dan Humphrey he'd end up at a dive bar on Valentine's Day, he would believe you and attribute it to the fact that hey, his nickname is Lonely Boy and what do you expect? The girl he wanted was married to a Prince as it was. But if you had told him the reason he was drinking his feelings away was because of a simple surprise visit to the Hudson to see his mom, he'd call you crazy.
He had hopped into the clunker his dad called a vintage car that afternoon and drove it through the city until he reached his destination. Rang the doorbell to 1582 Sherman Road, rocked on his heels in excited anticipation; Dan hadn't seen or talked to his mom in months. To mark the occasion, he came bearing roses for his best girl.
And wasn't he surprised when a Mrs. Carolyn Hall opened the door?
Carolyn was a nice lady, really. Explained to Dan with sympathy and slight discomfort that sorry, Alison Humphrey moved a couple of weeks ago, and no, I don't have a forwarding address.
Dan, he'd try to decipher Carolyn's words, but the blood was rushing in his ears and his pulse was racing so fast that he thought he might pass out. His throat and mouth were bone dry but Dan had managed to thank the stranger living in his mother's house and thrust the tainted roses in her hand before getting back into his car and driving straight to Sam's on Seventh.
He chose a seat on the very end of the bar, close to the bathrooms and far away from the long-time drunks. Waving down the bartender, Dan pulled out his ID, knew that the first thing the bartender ask would be proof of legal drinking age.
And he was right. The bartender scanned the ID, looked at Dan, and lowered his eyes once more. Gave a satisfied nod. "Newly minted, I see. You wouldn't believe how many under-agers I get in here. Weedin' 'em out's like a sport to me," he explained. "Anyway, what're ya drinkin'?"
Dan rubbed his mouth thoughtfully. "Whiskey should do it," he decided, wanting to dull the pain as quickly as possible (and boy did he have a lot).
The bartender poured a shot of Maker's Mark into a glass and set it in front of Dan. Steely gray eyes observed the young patron as the older man leaned on the scratched oak bar-top. "Get dumped on Valentine's Day, didja?"
Downing the shot, Dan winced. Laughed bitterly. "I guess you could say that. Don't really feel like talking about it, if you don't mind. I'll take another one of these, though." He held up the empty glass with a hollow smile.
"I hear ya," the bartender started, reaching for the whiskey bottle and filling Dan's glass once more. "Valentine's Day is probably my busiest day of the year. Get a lot of the divorcées and eternal bachelors talkin' my ear off. All part of the job, I guess."
The sound of glass shattering on the other side of the bar disrupted the rest of the conversation, leaving Dan to himself and his thoughts. Cradling his cell in his hand, he contemplated calling his dad. Dan knew he should have done so the minute he left his mom's – Carolyn's – house, but the emotional shock had rendered him speechless. And really, he wouldn't have known what to say at the time, anyway.
Hell, even as he sat at the bar, Dan had not a clue. And why would he? His mother had abandoned him, had woken up one morning and decided that she no longer needed him in her life. At all. The thought was more than Dan could bear, mostly because it seemed to solidify the fact that no one wanted him. Not Blair, not even his own mother.
And how do I tell Jenny? Dan anguished. His baby sister was away interning at a fashion house in Paris, surely unaware of Alison's strategized disappearance. It would kill Jenny to find out, of that Dan was certain; she'd had a rough enough year as it was without having this added to her pile.
When Dan swallowed the second glass of whiskey, it went down rough and burned like fire in his belly. It was a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest, though, because god, his current situation made Dan's heart hurt.
Dan was four glasses deep when his cheeks grew hot and his head began to spin. He held up a finger, indicating that he wanted another; the bartender glared reprovingly.
"Come on. One more." In Dan's head, the words sounded smooth and commanding, but they came out slurred and a little more than pathetic.
Whoops.
The bartender slung the rag he was using to clean the counter over his shoulder, went to pour Dan a glass of water. "I like my money, but I'm cutting you off," the older man said, mustache twitching. "Drink this and go home, kid. You don't need to be hangin' out at a bar alone."
Dan glared in annoyance at the water sitting in front of him but downed it anyway. Slapping a twenty on the bar, he hopped off of the barstool, stumbling for a second before quickly recovering his balance. He waved sloppily to the bartender before pushing through the heavy door, spilled out onto the dark Brooklyn sidewalk in a heap of plaid and denim.
Dan steadied his hands on the concrete before pushing up into a standing position. His world was swimming, and Dan knew he should take the bartender's advice and go home. He'd sober up, pop in an old Spencer Tracy movie, and call it a night. Could wake up in the morning, clear-headed and ready to tell Rufus what he'd discovered.
But Dan didn't do that. No, he hailed a cab, and when the impatient driver asked for a destination, Dan said the first place that came to his head. It was where he felt safe and complete, where he felt home. It was where Blair Waldorf was.
"The Palace."
"Dan, what the hell are you doing here? You smell like a brewery!" Blair hissed as Dan all but fell into the brunette's tiny arms. Closing the door behind them, she took Dan's arm and, steadying him, guided him to her bed.
Dan wished he could answer Blair's question honestly. He'd tell her that she always knew what to say. He'd tell her that she gave him hope even when he felt hopeless. He'd tell her that he's heartbroken, in more than one way. But he settled, instead, for four simple words: "My mom is gone."
Blair pursed her lips, puzzled. "Gone? Gone how?" she asked curiously, not quite understanding the meaning behind Dan's distressed demeanor.
Sighing softly, Dan dropped his head in his hands; the nice buzz the whiskey gave him had transformed into a throbbing headache. "I went to visit her today," he muttered. "She doesn't live there anymore."
Blair disappeared into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a glass of water and two aspirin. "Without telling you?" she questioned, clouds suddenly lifting. Her brows knitted together as she probed for further information."Did you try calling her?"
"That's the first thing I did when I left her house. Her number's been changed." Dan took the aspirin gratefully, swallowed them with a gratuitous gulp of water. He closed his eyes and let himself fall back onto the soft mattress. "She's just… gone, Blair." He paused, inhaled shakily - the scent of Blair."I don't understand what I did."
Blair was quick to correct him. "This is not your fault, Dan. You did nothing wrong, and don't for a second think otherwise."
"How do you know that?" he clipped, immediately regretting his tone.
"Because you're Dan Humphrey," Blair said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "You'd do anything for the people you love. You're kind and smart and selfless. Anyone that would abandon that is clearly insane."
The irony not lost on him, Dan remained silent. He had no energy left to fight and to be honest, he didn't want to. He just wanted to lay in Blair's bed forever and forget today ever happened.
It was as if Blair was reading Dan's mind. She touched his shoulder, prompting him to open his eyes in surprise, and smiled sympathetically. "Since neither of us is in the mood to celebrate Valentine's Day this year, how do you feel about watching a classic horror film to abate our misery?"
Relieved that Blair didn't push the issue, Dan smiled genuinely. "That sounds really... great."
Blair stood up, went to search her bookcase for the perfect film. "The Omen should do the trick," she announced decidedly. "Nothing more anti-Valentine's Day than a possessed child."
"Why do I sense this is becoming a tradition?" Dan chuckled weakly, moving over on the bed to make room for Blair and her laptop.
As the movie started and the pair settled in, Dan began to feel like some semblance of his normal self again for the first time all day.
By the time the credits began to roll, Dan was half-asleep, head resting on Blair's chest as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through his quiet curls. He could feel her heart beating, her lungs filling with each slow breath – a biological lullaby.
He would listen to it every night if only Blair would let him. For now, though, he would cherish this moment of tranquility; he'd need all the strength he could muster to get through tomorrow.