A bubble of noise erupted into the quiet street as Dan opened the door of the bar and stepped out onto the pavement. He held it open as Blair sailed through the doorway behind him, serving the bar staff a vitriolic earful as she held her nose firmly aloft.

She stopped abruptly on the sidewalk and glared at Dan. "I cannot believe they cut us off! This would never happen at the Oak Room." She kicked her foot toward the door of the bar and her shoe flew off, clattering across the sidewalk. "Damn! Can you get that for me, Humphrey? Please. I'll catch foot and mouth disease if I touch this sidewalk!" She looked pleadingly at him as she stood precariously on one foot.

Dan laughed. "I don't think it helped that the bartender thought we were having an argument, and you spilt your last martini over that innocent girl."

"Innocent! My foot. And speaking of which, Humphrey..."

He leaned down to grab her shoe then knelt down by her side and grabbed her bare foot, caressing it momentarily with his fingers. Blair rested her hand on his shoulder for balance as he slipped the shoe back over her toes. "There you are, Cinderella."

She kept her hand on Dan's shoulder as he slowly rose to his feet. "We weren't arguing either, we were having a civil debate. And you're wrong as usual, Humphrey, Bukowski was not the literary voice of American white trash; he was just a misogynistic ranting drunk. Besides…" Blair paused as she picked a piece of lint from his shirt and giggled, "…that girl was wearing a horrible dress."

He rolled his eyes. "You could have at least said sorry to her, Waldorf. And, uh, civil debates don't usually include shirt gripping and chest jabbing."

"She stumbled into me. And you weren't listening to me!" Blair smiled and narrowed her eyes. "I proved another point, anyway. I can keep up with you, Humphrey, drink for drink."

Dan returned the smile. "Yeah, well, except for the one you spilt and the one you didn't like?"

"I had one, or maybe two, before you arrived tonight." Blair stumbled a little on the curb and Dan grabbed her arm to steady her.

The street grew more deserted as they weaved their way down the street, bumping shoulders occasionally. The silence was welcoming after the noise of the bar.

Blair stopped under a streetlight. "Where are we going now? Are there any bars down here?"

Dan looked around. "I have no idea. I was just following you."

Blair groaned. "Well, I was just following you. I want to drink more. I haven't been drunk all summer. It's obscene. Apparently it's unseemly for royal fiancées to be seen having more than a glass of champagne. Where's another bar?"

"We'll have to walk a couple of blocks."

Blair let out an exasperated sound. "In these heels?"

"I'm sorry there is no limousine awaiting your beck and call, madam, but you're the one who insisted we hang out in Brooklyn, so no one would know you'd returned to New York yet."

"You made me get thrown out of a bar! The moral depth's I plunge to when I'm in your company, Humphrey…it's disgraceful! I'm sure there must be a closer bar you can take me to." Blair began to walk down the street again, picking up her pace. Dan had to hurry to keep up with her.

"Well, you can come back to the loft if you want. It's probably easier to calmly debate controversial topics there."

"But I need hard liquor. I will not drink beer or whatever other horrors you may have in your man cave."

"Umm, I can make you vodka martinis, sans the olive, and, uh, show you the Jean-Jacques Beineix collection I bought myself for my birthday?"

"The whole collection?"

"Uh huh. I'll even let you turn the English subtitles off and you can translate the dialogue for me. You know you always complain about having the screen polluted."

"Humphrey, I really don't know. The olive really makes the martini. What kind of vodka do you have?"

"Umm, there's a bit of Grey Goose that Nate left some time ago. And a full bottle of Stolly."

"You present a compelling case, Humphrey. I get to pick which movies we watch though."

Dan grinned a little foolishly at her. "Good, well, then, uh, I have an idea."

"That sounds dangerous, Humphrey. Don't strain something."

Dan turned left down an alleyway "Waldorf, come this way..."

"Are you sure this is safe, Humphrey. I was always told to stay out of alleyways after dark. Especially in Brooklyn"

"I'm hunting cocktail olives. There's a 7-11 this way. It'll be worth hazarding the alleys for."

xoxo

Dan awoke the next morning to the sound of the door shutting. He lay on his sofa with a splitting headache, unable to remember going to sleep. The smell of the empty glasses on the table next to him turned his stomach. There was no sign of Blair.

Memories of the evening flooded into his head, making the pounding worse. He had lured Blair back to the flat, offering alcohol and companionship, telling himself that his motives were pure; so desperate to see her alone. Wanting to awaken the intent look in her eyes when they were deep in discussion. When her attention was focused entirely on him and he would do or say anything to keep it there.

He'd been just so delighted that she was back and wanted to see him, he'd failed to keep a firm grip on the precarious emotional state he found himself in, every time he was around her. He had forgotten exactly how intoxicating she was. All the distance he though he'd created from her over the summer had vanished.

The last thing he remembered was watching Betty Blue. She had fallen asleep not far into the movie, her head resting on his leg. He was thankful for this; she was so close to him, he wouldn't have been able to keep his physical agitation hidden from her. He had sat and watched the whole movie, imagining enacting some of the scenes with Blair. Unable to move in case she woke up and sprung him in his semi-aroused state. Feeling helpless and hopeless as her head lay in his lap.

Dan groaned at the memory, feeling pathetic and miserable. He walked to the kitchen to get a drink of water, trying to clear his head. On the bench was a note, in Blair's precise copperplate.

I have to go and see a woman about a dress. I'll call you later. I need you to come check out some reception venues with me. Do not, I repeat, do not wear a t-shirt with a logo or some band on the front."

Dan's heart fell. It was one thing being Blair's confidante, but being her unofficial wedding adviser was entirely another. He should say he was busy this afternoon. He shouldn't make himself so available to this woman.

He looked down to read the rest of the note.

Now follow the arrows

Later,

B

Sitting on the bench to the right were two painkillers and a bottle of Perrier. Dan rubbed his head. She disarmed him every single time.

Who was he kidding? What the hell was he going to do today instead? Think some more about whatever the fuck he was going to do now writing was clearly a useless career path for him to follow?

Dan necked the painkillers and headed to the bathroom, mentally discarding every t-shirt he owned.

He had never wanted to please anyone so much.