fic: Bad Boy Fetish
Bad Boy Fetish by Rena
PG-13 for language
I don't own Gossip Girl, Ed or Leighton or anything else. This is just for fun.
Pairing: Ed/Leighton (RPF)
Preview: "So… does that make you one of those girls? You know, the ones with the bad-boy fetish?" He asks and she's sober enough to blush. A story of when Leighton met Ed. Some Ed/Chace friendship. Based on the interview Leighton gave about having a thing for bad-boys and her admitting that Ed is NOTHING like Chuck.
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When he first spotted her she was dancing. Of course she was dancing. Her back was to him as she moved deliciously to the music.
The only thing that he thought of when he saw her was; They don't make them like that in England.
And that was that.
An hour later she bumped into him, she was tipsy and happy and missing all of her lipstick. It was stuck to the collar of the tall blond man who was busy getting her another drink. He had a large dragon tattoo on his neck. What is that even supposed to mean?
"Sorry!" she tells him as she balances herself on his arm. "Oh, sorry!"
"I'm fine, I've survived your attack," he's smiling at her. She's nearly as tall as him which isn't saying much considering he's always thought himself a foot shorter than he'd like to be.
She blinks at him. "I know you, don't I? I mean, you're British, I know you."
He laughs a bit. "Am I the only English bloke you know?"
"Pfft!" she says, throwing her hand around. "I know plenty."
"Really?" he asks. "Like who?"
She furrows her brows in concentration. "David Beck-something, I can't remember now, I smell pot, do you smell pot?"
He laughs. "You know David Beckham?"
She pouts, prettily. She's so pale but a glorious pale with tiny little freckles on her bare arms.
"I… why are we talking?" she's definitely drunk. "Let's dance!"
"Oi!" she almost falls and he catches her, making her lean against a wall.
She blinks wearily up at him. "What does that even mean? Ahoy?"
He smiles, amused by her endless chatter. He scratches his hair and brushes it forward unconsciously. "I'm sure it originated there."
She looks over his clothing and suddenly smiles, a smile he's not quite sure what to make of it. "Are you one of those boys?"
He gulps and taken a swig of his beer. "What boys?"
She's nodding happily. "You're a musician, aren't you? I love musicians. I sing, you know."
"Do you now?" he's smiling at her.
"Yup!" she quips, still holding on to his arm for support. "So, you're a rocker, right?"
"Yes… I enjoy a bit of rock and roll."
She laughs at him. "You're so adorable! Who even says rock and roll anymore?"
He gulps. "Well –"
"You must have tons of girls after you, right? I mean you're British and a rocker."
He blushes and looks away. "I have a girlfriend. Back home."
Her brows furrow. "What?"
He smiles at her confusion. "Ed Westwick." He holds out his hand for her to shake. She looks at it doubtfully then back at his face.
"I do know you, don't I?" she states.
"I think we might be doing a show together," he puts his hand down.
"Ahh!" she says. "Gossip Girl. You're the guy they're trying to bring in from England."
He nods, smiling slightly. "It's quite the scandal."
Then she's mad and she shoves him lightly. "You lied! You said you were a musician!"
He laughs. "I am! You're a wild cat, aren't you?"
She shrugs. "And for a moment there I thought you were a good guy." She's smiling that smile at him once more.
"I am a good guy," he confirms.
"No – you're just a bit naughty." She's smirking. A long strand of freshly dyed brown hair falls over her face and he admits that she processes a strange sort of beauty.
"I'm not, trust me," he nods.
She looks disappointed. "What are you - a romantic?"
"The last of them, apparently." He states wearily, taking a sip of his beer.
She huffs. "Well… that's a disappointment since I now know you won't try to take advantage of me."
He laughs quietly, looking at her from between his lashes.
"Oh well… help me up, I need to find Dragon." She says, pulling on him.
"You can hardly walk, you're going to let that guy take you home?" he states, helping her walk as she wobbles.
"Oh no," she snaps. "Don't be that guy."
He's confused now. "What guy?"
"You know, that best-friend-guy." She says, now holding her own balance as she grabs a napkin and dabs at her face.
"I'm not familiar with this," he admits.
"Harry and Sally? Hello? Men and women just can't be friend, not possible." She says resolutely.
"We're actors, remember? We follow our own clause," he reminds her.
She smiles brightly then. "You really are a nice guy, aren't you?"
He doesn't know if to nod or agree. He settles for drinking some beer.
She purses her lips. "Leighton. I'm Leighton."
"I know. Meesters." He nods. She smirks and starts to walk away.
"Stay cool, Westwick, let me know when you feel like being a little bit bad." She calls out.
He watches her for a moment and then decides to stop her. "Hey! Meesters!"
She stops and turns around, staring at him. Her eye-liner is running.
"So, are you that type of girl?" he comes closer and she looks intrigued.
"What type?" she asks, almost flirtatiously.
"You know… the one with the bad-boy-fetish," he nods towards Dragon-guy who looks confused at having two drinks in his hand.
She smiles slightly, patting his shoulder. "Stick around Westwick, I may one day grow up out of it."
And she laughs and walks away, once more showing him her delectable backside.
A guy next to him chuckles at his transfixed stare at Leighton's rear. He smiles, nearly blushing.
"They don't make them like that in England," he tells the blond guy. The guys laughs and nods. He holds out his hand.
"Chace Crawford," he nods at him.
"Ed Westwick," he replies and shakes the guy's hand.
They both turn to look at where Leighton had now begun dancing with Dragon-guy. Chace studies him. "Look out for that one, she's trouble."
Ed finally smirks. "I may like trouble."
Chace laughs. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
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The end