Title: 2007, Signing Off
Author: dante de cervantes
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing: Blair/Serena
Rating: T
Summary: A day after Serena catches Dan getting busy with Vanessa, she coaxes Blair into going out of town with her for the rest of the holidays.
Author's Notes: This is femslash. Please don't read if you're offended by that or something. And I don't own Gossip Girl. The CW owns them. All I own is the product of my imagination, which is this story, and in a way, the car, because I made some stuff up. And I'll be using some of Colbie Caillat's songs. She rocks… Hehe… Okay, this is seriously off topic but... Leighton and Cabs get Blake to bite her lip? Why is that so people?? Don't you guys notice it too?!
2007, Signing Off
by dante de cervantes
"Serena!" he says, so happy that you finally answered your phone.
"Hi, Dan." You greet back dryly.
"You're not hanging up?" He realizes, furthering his happiness.
"You caught me in a good mood."
"Well, good. Because I was thinking—"
"Oh, great. Now you're thinking. It was a shame you weren't doing any of that when you were
shoving your tongue down Vanessa's throat."
You can hear him groan in frustration at the other end. You thought it was cute… once upon a time. But you know better now.
"Look, it was a mistake. I admit I was wrong but I'll never let it happen again."
"Let it happen? I bet you made it happen, Dan." You bite back, and when you closed your eyes you could see him straddling her on his stupid football sheets.
"It wasn't what it looked like. Serena, I'm willing to do weeks of groveling afterwards but, please, let's just talk this over." He pleads.
"Okay, let's talk… It's over." You say in your best I-can-be-a-bitch-if-I-want-to voice.
You hang up. And you were done with Dan-I live downtown-Humphrey.
December 27. It's been a day since you saw Dan in bed with his best friend. And note to self:
You weren't that best friend.
He could go and give her frantic horny-rabbit sex with Cedric watching for all you cared.
That's what you think as your heels click on The Palace's underground parking lot. You had someone new now, someone you could always depend on. Your baby is here, brand spankin' new and yet to be in stores.
Misery is ready for the road. The only thing missing is company.
You smile while you flip open your phone and dial your best friend(Who you were so not having horny rabbit sex with!)'s number.
"Hey B, Feeling adventurous?"
"And good morning to you too." She replies sarcastically. "What are you up to?"
"I was thinking… How bout' you and me go on a road trip?"
"And…?" she trails off in question.
Your invitation didn't sound much, but you know that Blair's ears are just going to ring when they hear "Yale."
"And… visit Yale and Brown." The seed has been planted.
You hear her squeal in delight at the other end.
You were guessing that was a yes.
"Are you just doing this to get over Humphrey?"
You bet she was guessing you'd answer a yes.
"No." you retort, a little too eagerly.
You just knew that she was thinking you were being defensive.
"Excellent. Because I don't find the idea of you sobbing hysterically over Cabbage Patch the slightest bit appealing. So, when is this great road trip of yours?"
You breathe out a silent sigh of relief, glad that she chose not to make you admit that you were, in fact, not over Humphrey. She knew that. But the both of you know that some things were better left unsaid so they could appear to have no value whatsoever.
"How about I pick you up tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?"
"Yeah, what's wrong with tomorrow?"
"It's 2008 in five days, S. I still have to—"
She had a lot more 'let's ring in the new year' parties to plan in the future. A lot more time to make Jenny Humphrey slave like an obedient dog, a lot more time with her dad because she seems pretty determined to make him stay in New York... A lot more time with Nate when they'd get married. But damn it, you really needed your best friend right now.
Like, really needed her.
"Blair, please?"
She lets out a sigh that tells you that she just gave in.
"Okay, but you better be here by eight-thirty."
"Does eight sound better?"
"Eight sounds perfect."
You were about to hang up, but it seemed like Blair remembered to ask her flurry of reasonably necessary inquiries.
"Wait, how exactly are we going to get there? And where are we going to stay?"
"Leave the accommodation and transportation to me." You assure her, stopping in front of your car. "But I have to say, we aren't flying first class."
"Then it's not so glamorous? Flossy? Flossy?" she asks incredulously, her eyes probably widening in horror or something.
"I can't say. How about you find out tomorrow?" you reply impishly.
"Serena, we are not taking a Greyhound."
You smirk to yourself. She's such a typical Waldorf, would definitely do her mother proud.
"Bye Blair."
"Serena—" she demands.
Well, tries to demand. Because it was too late, you flip your phone shut.
You switch your Christmas present on and let your head fall back onto the headrest. You feel a small involuntary grin creep to your face as you listen to the engine humming steadily. You were forgetting Dan already.
Talking to a car would've been a little ridiculous and it was a kind of thing that could get you into the Ostroff Center. But this was a very expensive car… So what the heck?
"Why don't we go for a spin?"
Her Louis Vuitton travel bags were already loaded into your trunk and you thank Chester, her doorman, for being a very nice, unfortunate soul to carry four days worth of luggage. When Blair comes out of the Brownstone, her jaw immediately drops.
She lowers her Chanel sunglasses at your car "What is that?"
"That…" you start, walking over to 70 grand of auto-awesome, "…is riding first class." You state all pompous and proud, taking out your keys, jingling them in front of her for emphasis.
Blair wasn't really the car enthusiast so she just stared at you blankly, "Okay, go ahead and advertise." She encourages.
You grin wickedly and take a deep breath before launching into an offhanded run: "It's a 2008 Ford Shelby GT500KR. 540 horsepower. Ford's best Mustang by far."
You eye her lips as they purse and come together in a thoughtful pout. This was just the beginning of you trying to win her over.
"18-inch aluminum wheels, nice and big. Black Leather interior, sexy. Surround-sound, so we can listen to sexy music while we sit sexily in those sexy embossed leather seats." You take in a big gulp of air and "Chrome-plated control panel complete with GPS-navigation, so we won't get lost…Feather boa seat-belts—kidding! Actually, I've got four LCDs in there…" basically spilling out everything you could remember about your latest gift. "…Hmm… What else?"
You were running out of things to say, fortunately, Blair knew a little something-something.
"Automatic?"
"Hey," you whine, almost insulted," I know how to drive a stick." finishing smugly.
"Ooooh, should I be turned on by now?" she questions playfully, cracking a smirk.
Wait, does her quirked eyebrow turn you on?
"Oh please." being the only comeback you are able to grasp at the moment.
"It doesn't look like a convertible." She notices, checking out the back.
"It isn't." you answer apprehensively.
"Then we don't have to get out of the car, looking like crap."
"Which is good." She adds, seeing worry all over your face.
You thank God that you didn't get the convertible.
"Why is it red?" she asks.
Blair and the red crayon. Blair and the red bow. Blair and the red lipstick. Blair saying that you looked good in red. And not the other way around. Blair and the red nails, on fingers that were ghosting over the red paint of your Mustang.
Blair loves red. And you want her to like your car.
Yet, you make the failure to mention 'because you love red, silly...' intentional.
"They're limited, with only a thousand units of these. Three hundred are silver, two hundred blue, a hundred and fifty black, same with white and yellow. But there are only fifty this torch red."
It comes out a matter-of-factedly. You want her impressed.
"But what makes mine extra special… Is that I've got the really cool racing stripes. See, they're black… lined with white."
Okay, maybe that didn't sound so impressive after all. It just occurred to you how much of a dork you were sounding…
Blair smiles to herself, visibly amused with your 'look at my new toy!' antics.
"You've been watching too much Pimp My Ride." She shakes her head in faux-disappointment.
She proceeds to stride around the car, keeping a safe distance as to appear blasé and cool. Then she takes off her sunglasses. You know that if it got her to take off Coco Chanel shades, then you just won her over.
Serena, the show-off… in her prime.
Blair opens the door to the passenger seat and she gets in.
You couldn't be any more pleased with yourself.
Visiting it first, on the second day, Brown was all you imagined it to be. A day later, Yale was all she imagined it to be.
But there was still that truth that the both of you weren't going to be enrolled in Brown and the both of you weren't going to be enrolled in Yale either.
You watch her as she watches the view from the balcony of the suite of New Haven's best hotel the both of you checked in to. It sort of solidified the thought in your head, her imagining how she'd walk the halls of that campus she's probably looking over right now.
All you know is that in her imagination, you weren't there, talking next to her. You were at Brown. One hundred miles away.
"A hundred miles is not that far." She spurts out after seeing you quietly sulking on the bed. Although you were trying to keep your upsetness (You were upset!) discreet. The same thought must've been running through her head while the car drove away from Yale.
She sits on the edge of the bed and you consider her words, and her talent at reading your mind.
"Yeah, it doesn't sound that far. But right now, three feet is a little too distant." you say, suggestively patting the spot next to you on the queen-size.
And you can't deny that your heart suddenly beats like hell when she crawls up to you on the silk sheets.
December 31. You wake up to the nice sight of Blair in nothing but a towel, hair wet, and her foxy face wearing a purposeful look.
The purpose, you find out later, is her throwing you a throw pillow (Oh, so that's why they call them that?) and telling you, "the bathroom's all yours".
"Ow! You didn't have to do that." You groan, rubbing your head where the pillow hit you.
"I know. I just wanted to." She tells you innocently, her eyes going all doe.
And you let her get away with that.
She can't believe that you were making her eat at a diner. You tell her that you can't believe that she went inside the fancy restaurant next door because she assumed you were taking her there instead of the diner (of doom, Blair adds).
"I turned around and you weren't there." You laugh at her.
"I asked the waiter for a table for two and I turn around and you weren't there." She whines back, burying her face in her hands in complete mortification.
"So that explains why you came out of there, looking like you wanted to strangle me."
"I still want to, S." she reminds you in a sinister way.
"Nah, you wouldn't want to do that. Besides, I'm paying for brunch." You announce, hoping that it'll save your soul from a very nasty-sounding death.
So, it turns out that over pancakes and coffee, she thanks you for whisking her away with you… and for the pancakes and the coffee.
The both of you were on your way home. You weren't exactly excited to go back to Manhattan and share Blair with the rest of the world again. But you'd deal with that when you're in the city again. All that you have with her is right now. So you'll take what you can get.
I've been awake for a while now
You got me feeling like a child now
Cause every time I see your bubbly face
I get the tingles in a silly place
You give me feelings that I adore
It starts in my toes
Makes me crinkle my nose
Wherever it goes
I always know
That you make me smile
Please stay for a while now
Just take your time
Wherever you go
What am I gonna say
When you make me feel this way
I just mmm…
It starts in my soul
And I lose all control…
Colbie Caillat was playing through the sub-woofed speakers, being all dreamy and adorable, so into getting everyone so in love. Perfect for the road.
You turn to Blair, and you see that she's still asleep at shotgun.
What was this? Were you smiling for no reason? Did your feelings coincide with the song? Were you actually feeling all tingly inside? Before you could ponder any more on that, another Colbie Caillat track starts doing whatever it does, turning you into mush…
The little things you do to me
Are taking me over
I wanna show you
Everything inside of me
Like a nervous heart that is crazy beating
Back Up. Back up
Take another chance
Don't you mess up. Mess up
I don't wanna lose you
Wake up. Wake up
This ain't just a thing that you
Give up. Give up
Don't you say that I'd be better off
Better off sitting by myself wondering
If I'm better off better off without you
You steal another glance and see the sun is glaring at her side this time of the afternoon. A great tint-job could only be so helpful. Weak rays of light shine on her brown hair and it all gets you to think of golden chocolate and how beautiful she is when the light was just right.
And you think it sounds yummy... golden chocolate.
And you figure that Blair, being a breath-taker, had nothing to do with the light.
"God," she suddenly breathes out and all your fantasies about golden chocolate are interrupted.
You stay silent, anxious for whatever else she was going to say. It was okay, whatever she was going to say, as long as it doesn't make the car fly off the road.
"You're finally looking at me like that again. Like I've always wanted you to."
"And how is that?" you manage to mumble, shifting your gaze from her to the highway. You blush a little at being caught.
You can hear her say, "It's like…" She pauses, to think it out.
"It's like that time in kindergarten, when we met each other at that Prescott wedding. We stole some of the wedding cake before the bride and groom even thought about touching it. I wasn't a little delinquent at that time, but I don't know, there was something in you that made me do it."
It all comes back to you, and you remember Blair, five and with the red dress. She sat at the corner and you wondered why someone with such a cute outfit didn't have anybody to play with.
But you didn't know why you grabbed her hand and got her to steal that cake with you.
"I dropped some frosting on my dress and then you cleaned it up for me because you said I'd get caught if they saw the mess?" looking at her to find out if you recalled right.
"Yeah, and when I looked up—"
"—I was always taller." You interject, randomly.
"Is it really necessary to state the obvious?"
"Yes, we can save time that way."
"When I looked up" she presses, raising her voice. But the next words came out softer.
"You were looking back at me like I was the best thing that ever happened to you."
Oh, God. She was five… and she knew.
"But when you started drinking… I saw less of it. And then you left, and I'm seeing none of it at all. I missed it. That was when I realized that I was missing you even before you left."
She falls silent, that nostalgic kind of silent where the only things that make sounds are thoughts in heads and memories dying to be kept hush-hush.
"Do you still miss me?" you ask, not able to help yourself.
"No."
Ouch, talk about shot through the heart. Go Bon Jovi?
"Because I know you're back for good." She adds.
She's just the sweetest thing, without the calories.
Your eyes are off the road and are on her. You could feel your hands grip harder onto the steering wheel in a nervous frenzy because apparently, she's not making you the smoothest of drivers.
"I'll never leave you again." You swear, earnestly looking into her brown gaze. Surprising yourself with how much emotion you subconsciously managed to put into that promise.
She gives you the benefit by flashing you a warm smile.
"Good call, since I'm never letting you out of my sight again either."
Your hands shake so much that you were struggling with the steering wheel.
And she drops her sunglasses back on.
"Sweet dreams, B." you wish her as she drifts off to slumber for the second time that afternoon.
Even though Blair's technically, out-cold at the moment, the road still has to compete for your attention.
The verdict: the road is failing rather miserably.
She's your BFF, and as much as she makes you go WTF with all the pretty things she said, she did, she does, she is…
At the end of the day, she's still your BFF.
But you could at least try to change that a little.
Sure, she'd still be your best friend at the end of the year.
But you can't say the same for 2008.
Because a quarter to midnight, you drive by a 7-Eleven and she sees the car park empty. She orders you to pull-over… and to buy her a Slurpee.
You go out of the store, two Slurpees in hand, to find her resting her back against your windshield, her bonnet looking like a cupcake on her head. She's always that cute.
You smile with the straw between your teeth and hop on the hood to join her.
And the both of you lay on the hood of your trusty steed of a mustang, watching the reds, blues, and greens of fireworks… She scoots over to you to rest her chin on your chest.
She pulls her sleeve up to reveal her Rolex. She tells you that it's twenty seconds to 2008.
And she also tells you that she hasn't given you a Christmas present yet…
That was before she leans in to kiss you.
Your Slurpee almost slips out of your hand. But then she starts to use her tongue…
Your frozen carbonated beverage didn't stand a chance. You could hear the faint clunk as it hits the pavement.
Well, at least all you have to hold onto right now… is Blair Waldorf.
Maybe there were some obvious things that didn't need to be stated… verbally.
Through shut eyes, you could see brighter fireworks.
She whispers the New Year's greetings against your lips.
And you agree with her, osculating her quiet. It's happy.
You were now convinced that you couldn't say the same for 2008, because with her kissing you like that, you weren't sure if you could say anything at all.
FIN
Reviews would really, really help… So please leave some milk and cookies for Santa… I want to know what you think…)