Title: His Little White Lie

Author: Miss Anthrope

Disclaimer: Look, if I did own Gossip Girl, Chuck and Blair would have been on a plane since the pilot episode, enjoying their one-way trip to either London or France, where they would live happily ever after and eventually have beautiful dark-haired children together.

Rating: T for Tissue

Warning: None to speak of.

Author's Note(s): I've had this plot bunny with me for some time now even before I started on Never Better. I admit to putting off writing it since I thought that it might throw me off from my other story. But since it's become obvious that the bunny isn't leaving soon, I've decided to get it over and done with.

His Little White Lie basically takes a more…optimistic (hope I'm using the right word) view of why Nate was such a prick in episode 13, season 1. Apparently, there's a side of me I never knew I had that likes to look at the best in everybody. And yes, the Nate in this story is based on the TV show, not the books.

Oh, but just so we're clear: I am still an avid Chuck/Blair fan...even if that last part of the season finale was the worst thing that ever happened to this pairing!

Dedication(s): To everyone who likes Blair/Nate, this is for all of you.

Summary: Her eyes widened, as the picture became clearer and clearer with each passing second. Of all the things Serena expected to learn that night, everything so far went above expectations. Blair/Nate, implied Chuck/Blair


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 just say that I'd be better off.

Better off sitting by myself wondering,

If I'm better off, better off without you boy.

-- Excerpt from The Little Things by Colbie Caillat


Of all the things Nate Archibald was labeled as—most eligible bachelor of the Upper East Side below the age of twenty-one, St. Jude's most promising athlete batch 2009, and future Dartmouth alumni, to name a few—one thing he could never be called was a drinker. While his friends all enjoyed downing champagne, gins, vodkas, and every other kind of liquor imaginable, like water, he had always stuck by a "two shot rule" religiously before relying on a joint to really get him as loose as the others. With such a lack of knowledge and experience with alcohol, it was clear how Nate managed to get totally smashed within fifteen minutes, downing completely all the random orders he'd made from the drinks menu.

It was in this state, disheveled and nearly delusional, that Serena found him in when she finally managed to track him down to the Flatiron Bar. Ignoring the blatant stares she received from some of the suited businessmen in the booths, she quickly strode to the bar and perched herself on a stool. A peek at the six or so empty glasses and the glazed look Nate gave his whisky sour told Serena almost everything she needed to know.

"Nate." He didn't look up and Serena tried again, this time a little firmer so that Nate was sure to hear her. He searched for the source of the voice and then fixed her with the same look he'd given to his drink. "Nate, why are you here?"

"Just…drinking," slurred Nate. He took a gulp of whisky sour before offering her some of it. "D'ya want some?"

Serena eyed the glass warily. "No thanks. I actually came here to talk to you."

"Suit yourself." Nate knocked back the last of his drink and called out for another one.

"Look, I came here because you were acting weird today in school. I'm starting to understand why." Pausing to watch the bartender mix the order, Serena turned to fix the other blonde with a glare. "Nate, I know what I'm talking about when I say that you don't want to do this to yourself. And if that isn't a good enough reason for you, just think about your family and friends— everyone who cares about you. We were all worried when we saw you come in the morning nearly tripping over yourself."

"We?" asked Nate incredulously.

"I know that you're still mad at Blair for reasons I don't understand, but at least believe me when I say that even now she cares about you."

In an instant, Nate burst into peals of laughter. Serena was a second away from telling him off when he started to recover himself. "I'm mad at Blair? She should be the one mad at me! Fuck, I'm mad at me!"

Frowning, she took away the new glass of whisky sour and pinned Nate down with her stare, urging him to explain what he'd said. Countless hours of comforting Blair had made Serena aware of all the details of the last conversation between her best friend and Nate. After he'd made it painfully clear for the past two weeks that he wanted nothing more to do with the brunette, why the hell was he suddenly acting like he'd been the one at fault?

"I thought that since she was so happy the first time they were together, that maybe if I stepped away things would just work themselves out," Nate whispered softly, suddenly more sober than a minute ago. "I just thought that I owed her to do one right thing for once…I knew it would hurt her, but I thought that he'd—" Stopping abruptly, his eyes momentarily flickered close.

"Nate, what're you…" The question died on Serena's lips as the pieces suddenly fit together in her head. Her eyes widened, as the picture became clearer and clearer with each passing second. Of all the things Serena expected to learn that night, everything so far went above expectations.

"I was his best friend for years. I should've known that he'd see things differently!" continued Nate, his voice almost as hard as his eyes. "Of course he'd think he was some last resort! He wouldn't consider taking her back even if he wanted to just as badly as she did. I should've known!"

"Nate…"

"I shouldn't have tried to plan this," he stated plainly while he looked at her directly. "At least not by myself. I only hurt her more. And now…everyday…I can't even bring myself to look in her direction."

Suddenly just as drained as Nate, Serena could only bring herself to nod. They sat silently on their stools for a few more minutes, both drowning in their own thoughts and too preoccupied to notice the distinct flashes of cameras around them.


Good morning, Upper East Siders!

If a picture really is worth a thousand words, imagine the conversation you'd have with these interesting snapshots of N and S taken late last night in Flatiron Bar. Of course while we're all still wondering if N is developing a popular habit or if S is (again) going back to her party girl ways, the bigger question that's just begging to be answered is whether or not N and S are hooking up behind former Queen B's and Lonely Boy's backs.

As juicy as it would be to report that it is indeed a yes, my sources tell me that not only is it a solid no, but that the two favorite blondes spent the night talking about a familiar petite brunette. Huh, wonder who that could be? From what we heard, N did some serious sacrificing when he stepped out of B's eyesight to make room for an ex-bestie.

Whoever said this scandal was already six feet below was just dead wrong.

Your sightings

Spotted: former Queen B and S having a serious heart-to-heart in Tavern by the Green while both sporting this season's coveted Derek Lam's Hildegard Hobo Handbag. Could it be an upcoming episode on Intervention or a replay of last night's conversation in Flatiron Bar?

On the streets, N was seen making that long cab ride to a certain rehabilitation center. Careful there, N, unless you want to trade in your weekly visits to a month-long stay with a family member, I suggest you throw away the bottle before it turns into a habit—that is, if it's not too late already.

The third point to this love triangle, C—who's been suspiciously MIA for the past couple of days—has reportedly been pulled out from St. Jude's for the week to attend to best man duties. With him in charge, next week's bachelor's party will undoubtedly be one for the books!