Summary: Somewhere in future. They are together. Dan is not mopey. Blair is confident. Imagine.


A joyous day.

Moving Day.

At the tender age of 27, Blair Waldorf finally moved out of her mother's penthouse.

Noted, while she did in fact move into another penthouse, it was her penthouse, purchased with her own earned money.

Blair had called the usual suspects to help unpack and organize, but somehow, each had somehow discovered another pressing matter to attend to. Serena forced to attend an emergency revision for her latest movie script. Nate explained he was on an adventure in the greater Boston area looking for a certain kind of lobster roll. And, Chuck... well, drunk Chuck with an unsupervised Monkey added to her precious possessions was not a combination Blair wished to explore.

At least her boyfriend came to help.


"Are you deranged?" Blair exclaims, interposing herself between Humphrey and her bookshelf. She pokes him in the chest with pointy end of the book in her hand,

"You will cease and desist, Humphrey!"

"What the- Waldorf, stop!"

Dan holds out an open hand to defend himself, but when she pokes through his hand (multiple times), he wretches the book from her grasp and tosses it on a nearby tabletop.

He glares at her.

She gladly returns it in additional measure.

"You're one to talk about being deranged," he accuses, "Assault by literature doesn't strike me as rational behavior."

"There is nothing irrational about it." she argues, "You were making a travesty of my bookshelves and I reacted accordingly."

He scoffs, "And jabbing me with the pointy end of Anna Karenina counts as 'accordingly'?"

"Obviously, Humphrey," Blair rolls her eyes. "You stopped, did you not? You know, for someone who owns such a vast collection of books, you don't seem to have the slightest idea how to organize them."

"Excuse me?" he says, scandalized.

"Absolutely not excused. Who simply organizes their literature alphabetically?"

"I don't know? Everybody? Were you asking a rhetorical question?"

"Well, for your information, sorting my shelves by last name is not acceptable."

Dan stares at Blair for a moment, his face contorting into an appropriate measure of disbelief and depleted patience.

"Okay..." he tries, "by first name then?"

"What am I, Humphrey? A heathen?"

"Dewey Decimel system?" he mocks.

"Dewey Decimel sys- don't mock me." She jabs him in the chest with her finger, "Don't make me use Anna Karenina again."

"And you call me deranged," Dan reaches out and grasps her hand; an olive branch. "How about you tell me your master plan and we'll see what we can do?"

She enjoys the moment: the feel of his thumbs making soft shapes over her skin.

"First," she says, down to business, "we need to sort by appropriate cover size. I absolutely cannot have contrasting cover sizes next to the other. About three to four different size sections will be sufficient. Then we can organize alphabetically, by last name, of course- owww!"

In his left hand, he grasps her hand. In his right hand, Anna Karenina.

He poked her. He poked her.

"Humphrey, you did not just-"

"Oh I yes did," He grins, "Accordingly, too."

She pushes him. He falls down. She laughs. He takes her down with him.

Eventually she forgets all about her shelves (for now).


Dan and Blair.

Lying on the floor; surrounded by a fort of books and movies.

"Now, back to the matter at hand," She pats him on his bare chest as she sits up. She graces him with a smile; wide and full of teeth.

"Be a good boy and help me finish shelving. I just figured out a brand new sorting rubrick"

"Deranged, Waldorf." He calls, watching intently as she walks to the bathroom. "Deranged."


The End.

PS: Caught up with the new season. And, they are not the dair I signed up for, so this is what popped in my head. Still, beggars can't be choosers.