Title: How We Do
Characters: Dan/Blair, Chuck(I know, why on earth have him play such a huge part? But this all Dair, really)
Spoilers: None really, it actually ignores a lot of the current season like Louis
A/N: Future fic. Takes place four years after season five
"For crying out loud, Humphrey! Wipe that creepy grin off your face this instant before people figure it out!"
Blair shrieks into the crook of his arm as he wraps himself around her in protest of her request. Her back against the elevator wall, she is powerless as he murmurs things about the way she smells and how her skin has a hint of his aftershave. The doors open with a ding and he reluctantly steps back, helping her smooth out her hair and the sweep of her dress on her thigh.
She gives him one last warning look as she loops her arm through his and is relieved when his lips fall into a smirk.
.
.
When they finally meet up again after being separated by members of their own family, she drops her head onto his shoulder and is grateful his two left feet limit their movements to swaying.
"What do you say we leave this shindig early, Waldorf?"
"What about Nate's surprise?"
She feels his chest move lightly in his laugh and leans her head back to look up at him. He strokes his fingers on the skin between her shoulder blades.
"I'm pretty sure we'll find it on gossip girl later. Come on, you're getting heavy already."
Blair pinches him. He winces slightly then winks at her.
"I must be brain damaged."
"Most likely," he agrees, taking her hand.
.
.
It happens like a dream. One second she's tracing the threads of Dan's sleeve and the next she's staring across a sea of people to find Chuck Bass like Moses. She starts, unable to stop herself from looking away because she's sorry. Not for the choice, but the act itself and the pain that followed.
Blair turns her face to Dan and it breaks her more than Chuck's expression. This is him being whatever she needs, letting her choose, and not asking for anything in return. She clasps his hand between hers and offers him a small smile.
"Go," he whispers. "I'll be here when you're done."
.
.
She follows him into an empty room and the weight of a thousand memories folds around them. The longer they stand there the more she realizes she's wrong. There are a thousand and a thousand more moments swimming underneath their feet. He looks over at her and she knows what that look means, and more importantly, what it doesn't.
"You look beautiful, Blair."
"Thank you. You look good too."
"It's been a long time."
"I suppose so."
His smile is quick and there's a bit of mirth tucked in a corner.
"All this history and this is what we end up talking about. Who would've thought?"
"Chuck…"
But he's right. The very thing that she believed would unite them forever is the very thing putting all this distance between them. It feels strange in that it's so clear it could only be this way.
"Well," he leans his shoulder against the wall and raises his brows. "I'll give you one thing. It's lasted longer than I expected."
Blair bristles, though he is far from the first person to say it.
"I love him," she says simply.
"Right."
"I do."
"You don't have to lie to me, Blair. I've loved you at your darkest, remember?"
He takes a few steps toward and she becomes acutely aware of how different he smells from Dan. The nausea washes over and she holds up a hand to stop his progression before she ruins her dress and the carpet.
"Blair, what's wrong?"
Sitting down, she waits for her stomach to settle and thinks about running out, leaving the thick scent of Chuck behind. But that endless history between them forces her to acknowledge that her life is tied to his.
"I'm pregnant."
Chuck doesn't realize it at first. Her mouth moves and he hears the words, but they don't form anything until her hand moves to the lower part of her abdomen. He sees it then, that light shining through her eyes and the protective curve of her arm against herself. It's a slap in the face that terrifies him because he always knew she would be back. He knew she would fall into his arms and tell him that the past four years were a mistake. But now she's in front of him and if anyone's made a mistake, it's him.
"I gather you're sure of the paternity this time around?"
She stands abruptly, her mouth turning sharp even though she understands his anger is coming from those seeds of misspent youth and devotion.
"This was…a horrible mistake."
"You mean having that pathetic second rate writer's bastard?"
"Stop it! What is wrong with you?"
"What's wrong with you?"
"You're never going to move on, are you? You'll never be happy for me."
"How can I? You belong to me, Blair! How do you expect me to let that go?"
"Don't be so melodramatic! You just do! God, we're not nineteen anymore!"
Those dear memories tremble inside them and Chuck doesn't know when she let them go. He's held onto them all this time, drowning in their bitterness, but he's known from the second he spotted her on the dance floor that she kicked them off some while ago to make room for new ones.
"Why is it him?"
If he'd have asked her, or if she'd given him a chance to ask her, years ago, she wouldn't have been able to answer him so surely. Why is it him? Because his awful flannel shirts feel divine in bed, he blows raspberry's on her neck in the morning, makes sure she eats when it's fashion week, takes her verbal beatings and dishes his own, takes her to the movies, and holds her hand as much as he can.
It's Dan because he loves her in spite of the darkness in her and supports her when she fights for something and makes her feel like she's the most incredible person in the world. A good person, even.
"Love is…it's hard. We, of all people know that, but it's also about sacrifice."
"We sacrificed a lot, Blair."
No, she wants to say. Not in the right way. She sacrificed herself, over and over, waiting, knowing, but he never gave himself up. He sacrificed her, over and over, and she let him. If she's honest she hates him a little now because of it, because she was so young and he burned her innocence and dreams.
"We did. Look where it got us."
"You can't really be happy with him. He's a Humphrey."
"So am I," she counters. "And I happen to be very happy. I am exactly where I want to be, with who I want to be with, and I finally know what it feels like to not be ashamed of who I am. Dan doesn't ask me to sacrifice anything. He loves every part of me."
"He can't."
She lets out a small sigh and feels the ghosts of all their mistakes at her ankles. They want her to surrender to his will, like before, but she's stronger now. She knows what she wants, and what she doesn't.
"We've done this enough to know how it finally ends, don't we?"
His silence is answer enough.
"Goodbye, Chuck. I sincerely wish you the best."
.
.
By the time her husband intertwines his fingers with hers she has thanked god three times for never letting him give up on her. She even thanks the stars that he doesn't know their names, so he makes them up for her entertainment and horror.
"Hey, you okay?"
"No," she sighs.
Blair can feel the way his muscles prepare himself for the saga of Chuck Bass, but she drags him into the elevator and places her lips on the angle of his jaw. His free hand finds its way to her barely curved abdomen.
"He brought up the sore subject of my being a Humphrey."
The horror on her face is almost 100 percent false. Dan lets out a bark of a laugh and then bites his lip.
"I think it sounds nice."
"You also think flannel is 'nice'." Before he can argue her affinity to his own shirt she continues. "I move we revisit the Humphrey-Waldorf treaty."
"On what grounds?"
"On the grounds that Daniel Humphrey-Waldorf just rolls off the tongue better."
"Oh, well, in that case. No."
"I - ."
"Face it, Blair Waldorf-Humphrey. Marriage is all about - ."
"Sacrifice?"
"No, something worse," he laughs. "Compromise."
