AN: My first venture in GG fandom~whee! This started out as a practice drabble before I write an epic long screwball fluff story, but now it's exploded to 7,000 words. It'll be a four shot, and should be posted fairly quickly. It'd guess it's 80% written? AU, set series four-ish...no prince.
Enjoy! Any feedback is appreciated, thank you much!
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.
Blair noticed something was different with Dan. He was being nice.
Well, that wasn't quite it. After all, Blair Waldorf and Dan Humphrey had come a long way from their days of bickering outside of Constance Billiard. They had both grown up, become more mature, and discovered they, in fact, had a lot in common. More recently, Blair Waldorf and Dan Humphrey had become friends-close friends-who spent time together. She had gotten to know his routines and habits. Dan was always nice to Blair; he just had never been nice to her. Something changed in the last week, and she didn't have a clue as to what or why.
Everything started on Monday. When they met for lunch, Blair was thrown off-guard. Dan, try as he might, was a sloppy gentleman. He would open the door for her, but it would only be just enough to fit through. And when he pulled out the chair for Blair to sit down, he could never get the timing right when he pushed it back in. Inevitably, Blair would bump her tailbone and spend the rest of the meal complaining about it. Dan's heart was in the right place, but he never paid enough attention to do it properly.
However, on Monday, Dan was perfect. It was like a switch had been flipped. Suddenly, overnight, he had become the consummate gentleman. Dan held the door all the way open so Blair wouldn't scuff her new Birkin on the glass panel. Then, when they arrived at their table, Dan pulled out her chair like usual. Only, when he pushed the chair back in, it was the exact moment she sat down. Dan had never gotten the timing just right. But this time it was exact. Blair muttered thanks, ordered her food, and pushed the incidents far from her mind.
On Tuesday, she invited him to the visiting Edvard Munch exhibit at MoMA. Blair had a brochure and several articles laid out in front of her, fully prepared to make the argument for Scandinavian expressionism, but instead he simply replied, "I'd been meaning to ask you myself. Meet you in an hour?" She had launched into her practiced speech about the importance of exploring art outside of one's comfort zone before Blair realized Dan had already accepted. He laughed into the speaker. Blair wasn't quite sure what to say after that, so she hurriedly said "fine," and hung up.
When she looked in the mirror minutes later, her eyebrows were still furrowed.
The museum was, if anything, more odd. As they wandered from room to room, Dan chattered on endlessly. He seemed to know everything about Munch's life and work. Each time Blair found herself wondering about the history of a certain painting, Dan seemed to pop up with the answer, often before she had the chance to ask herself. It was rather obnoxious.
"I didn't know you were so interested in Munch," she challenged as they viewed The Lonely Ones. She had seen it many times before, and each time she saw it, Blair was taken back. A couple stood by the sea, looking out; the woman unaware of the man's gaze.
"It's a recent curiosity," Dan answered. "You know how it is; you go to Wikipedia to double check Jimmy Stewart's last film, end up clicking on Harvey, and somehow two hours later you're reading about the symbolist art movement."
Blair crossed her arms and pouted. "But, you hate Norway."
Dan just laughed. "How can anyone hate Norway?" he asked. "They're a bunch of peaceful, wealthy polar bears. It's the cold, and you hate it, not me. I like the snow." She decided to ignore him.
"You know," Blair said, changing the subject. "I've always liked this painting. It's so sad."
"I guess I've never paid much attention to it," Dan stepped forward to get a closer look.
"Look at our hero," Blair pointed to the man. "He's madly in love with the woman in white, but she's oblivious. Every time I see the painting it's the same; she never notices him."
"I dunno," Dan looked skeptical. "It looks like hope to me. I mean, look how beautiful it is around them. The world is at peace. I think just after the painting was finished, the woman turned around, and realized how in love she is with the man." He scrunched his face adding, "and then they lived happily ever after."
Blair shrugged. "Life doesn't always work out that way."
Dan looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and responded, "too true, Princess." Blair whirled around to question his meaning, but Dan had already walked into the next room. She didn't get another chance to ask that day.
Wednesday found Blair holed up in her bedroom putting the finishing touches on a paper due the next day. The topic was unbelievably dull-the influence of the English Industrial Revolution on the founding of the United States. She had been working steadily all day, refusing every possible distraction from Dorota, but by 3pm, Blair thought her head was going to explode. She needed a break. She was going to ask Dorota to fix her a snack, but stopped when her phone beeped. Kill me, it read. Dan had texted her. Dan had texted her.
The mere fact that Dan had messaged her wasn't unusual; they talked practically every day. It was odd because Dan initiated the conversation. Blair wracked her brain, trying to think of another time he had started an exchange, but her mind came up empty. Their relationship followed a familiar pattern-Blair would message Dan when she was bored, and then they would end up talking about anything and everything for hours. That was just how it worked. Simple. Easy. Dependeable. Blair frowned, wondering if the status quo was changing. The thought was unsettling to her, and she didn't know why. It was just a text message.
Her phone beeped again. At a meeting with Alessandra and the marketing department. Bored out of my mind. Entertain me? It was an innocent request, and Blair saw no harm in humoring him for a bit. It would give her the desperately needed break so she could finish her God-awful paper. A win for both of them. She closed her laptop, laid down on her bed, and started typing.
Blair started by telling Dan just how terrible her paper topic was. If I was writing about the mating habits of amoebae, I'd be more interested. If I, Blair Waldorf, struggle to stay awake during your lecture, something is very, very wrong. She scrolled through her pictures, and found one from the last session. Blair had turned around and noticed that half the students were slumped on the desks, fast asleep.
Nice try, but nope, he wrote back. The marketing director is trying to convince me that my next novel would really benefit from adding a tween character. To, naturally, attract the tween audience I so richly desire. I win.
Blair giggled, picturing Dan trying to explain why his alternative universe American monarchy novel wasn't the best fit for the Justin Bieber generation. She decided to egg him on. Maybe a tween isn't such a bad idea after all, Humphrey. I'm sure you can come up with someone perfect.
You're on Waldorf. Before Blair could respond, Dan sent another message. He's got to have the floppy hair.
Of course, she agreed. And he knows the dances to every pop song.
But he's not a musician, Dan concluded.
No, he's a normal tween, Blair typed. Obsessed with some middle school classmate.
Absolutely. She wears braces, her hair in pigtails, and they go on their first date to a Disney concert. I don't know why I didn't think of this before. Clearly, it's genius.
Blair couldn't stop herself from laughing. The more they messaged, the better the visual was in her head. Not only was Humphrey stuck in a terrible meeting, but he couldn't laugh about anything they texted. It was her duty as a friend to make him laugh and ruin the meeting. She took the challenge to heart and forgot her writing until long after dinner.
Dan called after lunch on Thursday, and said, "let's get cocktails tonight. We should celebrate turning in your satanic paper." Blair rolled her eyes, and said there was nothing to celebrate. It was just a paper. But he insisted, which was how she ended up in the lobby of the Empire, wearing a very uncomfortable Zac Posen cocktail dress. The material itched, and Blair had to resist scratching herself; she didn't want that unflattering picture to end up on Gossip Girl's website.
Looking around the hotel, Dan was nowhere to be found, furthering Blair's annoyance. She purposefully left the penthouse late, and she still managed to arrive before him? She had just started to dial his number so she could complain, but Dan came around the corner first. "Sorry," he blurted out, rushing over to her. "I was just washing my hands." Blair narrowed her eyes, and huffed. Dan just laughed, and gently grabbed her hand, uncrossing her arms in the process. He cocked his head to one side and looked at her in awe. "Blair, you look amazing tonight."
She scoffed, but gave him a small smile as she walked past. The compliment made the uncomfortable material much more bearable.
Over the evening, Dan proved himself to be...attentive. Irritatingly so. He managed to push her chair in perfectly, again, and then he wanted to talk of nothing but Blair's horrific paper. "It's really not interesting," she protested. "It's a required class. I don't actually like the subject, Humphrey." But he continued to pester her until she gave him a full summary.
"You may not be interested in American history, Blair, but I am," was the excuse. "I might be able to use some of this in my novel." She responded like any other mature adult would; Blair stuck out her tongue.
When their drinks arrived, she tried to get him to tell her more about his meeting the day before, but Dan just waved his hand, smiled, and said, "it went fine, nothing to report."
After a full week of his abnormal behavior, Blair was finished. She was at the loft on Friday, eating popcorn and her favorite macarons, watching whatever Audrey Tatou's latest romantic comedy was. Dan sat to her left, lounging comfortably, clearly absorbed in Audrey's antics on the screen. Blair, however, sat on the edge of the couch, her back ramrod straight, and her face tense. Even though this was a film she wanted to watch, she couldn't concentrate. She was preoccupied with trying to understand something from the past week.
There was no reason for Dan to act this way. As far as Blair was concerned, they didn't have any secrets between them. But it seemed like something was off. No, she was sure something was off. Something had changed Dan this week, and she needed to know what it was.
On screen Audrey wore a short red dress, with a headband in her hair. Blair watched her finish penning a letter to her true love, and then enlist the 'citizen mail service' to send it-all to the soundtrack of M83. Blair jumped forward to grab the remote and pause the film.
"What happened?" She demanded, her eyebrows furrowed.
"I'm not entirely sure, but I think Audrey has just convinced twenty people to hand walk a letter across Paris instead of just mailing it like a normal person," Dan replied dryly.
"What? Why would she-wait. No," Blair shook her head, her brown curls shifting from side to side. "That's not what I'm asking. What happened to you this week? Something is...," Blair twirled her finger in his direction, "off."
Dan looked genuinely confused. "I don't know what you're talking about," he shrugged. "It's been like any other week."
Blair crossed her arms, and glared at him. "It hasn't been like any other week," she complained. "You held the door open for me, wanted to invite me to MoMA, texted me first, and," she took a deep breath. "You bought my favorite dessert today."
From the blank stare Dan had on his face, it was clear he thought Blair was out of her mind. "I always do those things for you," he answered slowly.
"But, but, it's different." She argued. "You never buy Maison Ladurée macarons," Blair gestured to the box on the table in front of them.
He rolled his eyes. "I was in the area this afternoon; I'm usually not near that bakery, Blair." After seeing the skeptical look on her face he added, "really. Why would I lie about that? As it turns out, Alessandra is a fan of Maison Ladurée too. She wanted to return my chapters with her notes."
Blair's shoulders relaxed a bit. "And you're sure there's nothing else going on?"
Dan scratched his head, trying to think of something, anything, to satisfy Blair. "Oh. Eric is coming for a visit in a couple of weeks. I've been happy about that," he offered.
"Hm," Blair pursed her lips, unconvinced, but pressed play on the film anyways. Dan tapped her on the shoulder, handed her a macaron and told her to relax. She leaned back on the couch, trying to, but she never got into the film. Instead, she spent the remainder of the time looking out of the corner of her eye at Dan, hoping he would give something away. Something that would explain why he had been so nice.
He never did.