Title: Intermission
Author: Miss Anthrope
Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own anything save for the plot and dialogue. Lyrics belong to Bright Eyes, while the characters belong to Cecily von Ziegesar.
Rating: T for Tabescent (adj. wasting away)
Warning(s): Cussing. Maybe a lemon scene or two. Definitely some fluff.
Author's Note(s): My Nate/Blair shipper has been begging me to write this for so long. Intermission is basically a collection of scenes between Blair and Nate I feel could have happened while the cameras were not rolling. Hopefully, it will span from the first to the last episode of season two; if not, it'll just take place during select episodes and maybe I'll deviate to some time in the future. Who knows?
Also, for those of you who have read my other works, you may notice that I'm using (sort of?) a new style of writing. It's just really for kicks and to satisfy my new love for hyphens. If you all don't like it or it just gets too confusing, tell me and I'll try to stop messing with your heads :)
Dedication(s): To everyone who likes Nate/Blair, this is for you. Also to Noirreigne who has decided to add Never Better to her archive of stories; this may not be a Chuck/Blair story you are looking for, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless.
Summary: Maybe if he could be a little more poetic, Nate might have compared every pull of thread to a new tear somewhere in his chest. SEASON2
Yeah, you still kiss me,
But it's just on the cheek.
Yeah, you still kiss me,
Now it's just on the cheek.
Yeah, you still kiss me sometimes,
But it's just on the cheek.
You pull away,
So easily.
-- It's Cool, We Can Still Be Friends by Bright Eyes
For the first time in a long time, Nate Archibald is nervous. He doesn't say it out loud but his tapping feet and constant shuffling give it away. His eyes, sharp and bright, find their way onto the couch where a neatly folded sweater lies innocently against the equally green velvet upholstery. The words from Blair's text quickly come to mind just as the sound of chimes begin echoing through the vacant rooms of the house.
Springing into action, Nate easily jogs past the butler, takes one last calming breath, before wrenching the door open. The blinding light that floods in makes his eyes squint but does nothing to hide the fact there is only a petite brunette standing in front of him and no trace of the blonde-haired friend he had been counting on to ease the tension of the situation.
"Hey there, Nate! Sorry 'bout any inconveniences this is giving you. It'll just take one minute then I'm heading off," starts Blair in an out-of-character chipper voice as she steps past the threshold and onto the marble floors of the receiving hall. She quickly notices the gaze Nate is giving the empty space beside her and suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, she thinks. "Serena's off to the beach to track downs some townie," Blair adds by way of explanation.
Nate nods distractedly, all the while willing himself to relax before it becomes too obvious. He is in the middle of another set of deep calming breaths when Blair cuts off his mental counting with the click clacking of her heels moving towards the staircase just up ahead.
"Anyway, like I said, I'll just be getting the pin back from you now—"
"It's in the living room," Nate supplies suddenly. Without another word, he fists his hands in the pockets of his jeans and leads the way to the nearest room on his right. He waits for the click clack of Blair's heels before heading back to the couch and carefully picking up what has become his only tangible reminder of everything he and Blair once were. Not that he would ever say that out loud—and sober—either. "Here."
Blair movement slows as soon as she notices exactly what Nate is offering her. He notices the change but says nothing; Nate doesn't know—has never known—what it means when she, of all people, falters.
"It's the sweater," Blair states unnecessarily after the lull.
It's only now that Nate realizes how ridiculous it is to be bringing sweaters—and hers out of the hundreds he has lying around in the townhouse—to a summer in the Hamptons. "Yeah, well, you said you needed your pin back, so…"
"Yes, I know what I said." Blair glosses over her bitter tone by quickly swiping the sweater out of his hands and focusing on the left sleeve. She can feel Nate's curious stare but only concentrates harder on the task at hand. Easily, her fingers find the small heart-shaped gold pin she sewed there back in first year.
"So," Nate starts, rocking back and forth on his heels uncomfortably, "I've heard you brought someone back with you from France."
Blair nods up at him with a smile, not so much happy at the thought of her newest male distraction, but rather at the change of topic. "His name's James, actually. He goes to Georgetown, has impeccable manners, well-bred; the perfect gentleman, really…"
She closes her mouth before she has the chance to add "and is stupendously boring" to her sentence.
"Wow, he sounds…" Stupid? Annoying? Nate can't decide but the urge to connect his fist to someone's jaw just resurfaced. "He sounds great, Blair."
"Don't even try lying to me, Nate." He can feel ice creeping through him as Blair tears her eyes away from the sweater and roots him to his spot. The idea of her knowing his plans regarding her new boyfriend isn't really a stretch considering how long they have known each other. "You don't have to pretend to like James." Nate gulps. Oh fuck. Here it comes…"I know you're on Chuck's side."
Blair doesn't understand the fleeting look of relief on Nate's face and trades in her questions for the original task.
Nate watches quietly and with his breath caught as her fingers start working on the last row of stitches. He can't—or maybe the better word is shouldn't—understand why every tug causes his fists to tighten a little more, and his teeth to grit a little harder; maybe if he could be a little more poetic, Nate might have compared every pull to a new tear somewhere in his chest. The last bit of thread comes undone a little sooner than expected and Nate finds himself suddenly staring right into Blair's face. Her eyes widen a fraction—he's sure she caught him staring—before shrugging it all off with a bright grin.
"Thank you for taking the time, Nate. Again, sorry for any inconveniences," she says graciously, stepping a little closer to hand him back the sweater after slipping the pin into her handbag.
"Sure, it's no problem at all." Nate flickers his eyes between Blair and the sweater. "Oh, and you can keep it too."
If he was confused the first time, Nate sure as hell doesn't know what to do when Blair falters twice. "Y-you want me to keep it?" Gone is the sunshine attitude and smiles, and in its wake is her barely-used confused face that quickly morphs into the pre-argument look he knows too well; Nate can't decide which one he's more afraid of.
"Well, you took your pin back. I just thought that you'd want this back also." Because, honestly, who the fuck wants a reminder of the love he could have had, but destroyed all chances of ever happening again? Not Nathaniel Archibald, that's for sure. It's bad enough that he still thinks about Blair now and then, but seeing the sweater everyday without the pin is bound to drive him crazy with questions he has no right asking anymore.
"Yes, well that makes sense, but…" Blair looks down at the folded piece of cashmere between them. "I assumed you'd still want to keep it since it is a gift and…well…"
"Well?" prods Nate. He has no clue what he expects to hear, but he can't help feeling hopeful when the smallest hint of a blush appears and her free hand starts fiddling with the skirt of her dress.
"Well, I was hoping you'd still want it even now. I bought it with you in mind and I…" Blair swallows back the heavy feeling of her tongue, "could never think of giving it to anyone else." Nate has half the mind to snap at her about the pin but holds himself back when he sees her struggling with more words. "Besides, I don't want you to forget all the years we were together," adds Blair in a much softer voice.
"Forget?" Nate's snickering earns him a glare, but there is no way he could have stopped himself; the idea is just that unthinkable. "Look, I know we've said some things—I've said some things—but I can never forget everything we had. Doing that would also mean forgetting almost everything in my past, and that's not something I ever want to do."
Blair stares at him closely, studying his eyes meticulously, before nodding. Her face breaks into a small smile. "Thank you, Nate. That really means a lot to me."
"Any time. We're friends now, right?"
"Right."
The silence that surrounds them is, for the first time in years, completely relaxed. But as good things go, this one doesn't last long either as Blair's phone suddenly goes off in a burst of The Virgins. Nate watches her take the call from Serena and judges from the look in her face that her visit needs to end soon. Fisting his hands back in his pockets, he signals her towards the front door and opens it just as she closes her EnV.
"Sorry, that was Serena. I really need to get going."
"Ah, trouble with a lifeguard, I hear?"
Blair slaps him jokingly on the arm before pulling down her favorite pair of shades—"An exact replica of Audrey's wayfarers in Breakfast at Tiffany's," Nate remembers—over her eyes. "You really need to stop eavesdropping, you know. But since you heard it anyway, yeah, she's having some trouble saying yes to some lifeguard."
"Wow, that sounds serious. You'd better go before something else happens," Nate says, snickering.
"Leave the sarcasm to me, alright, Archibald?" Blair teases. She's just about to take the last step down when she suddenly walks back to him, sweater still in hand.
"Forget anything?" Nate jokes despite the sober mood brought about by Blair's almost tight-lipped smile.
"This has nothing to do with me thinking that you'd ever forget us, but everything about what I said before that. I bought this for you," Blair starts quietly, handing him the sweater, "and it should only stay with you."
Looking down at the gift, Nate nods and tries his hardest to smile back. For whatever unspoken reason, there is still a pang in his chest that makes his fingers curl when he gratefully accepts it. "Thanks, Blair."
"Anytime," she whispers back. And for whatever unspoken reason, Blair's suddenly glad that she's got her shades on. Blair doesn't know what she's waiting for—wordlessly hovering on the top step of the porch—until she surprises herself by moving closer, lifting herself on the ends of her toes, and planting her lips firmly on Nate's cheek.
Nate waits for an explanation but nothing more is said. Blair pulls back with a smile, perches her sunglasses higher on her nose, and walks away without another word. Nate finally remembers to breath (inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale) when his cellphone starts ringing for the tenth time amidst the third replay of today's events.