Truth, Blair, or Consequence

Story Title: Truth, Blair, or Consequence

Story Summary: It is a toss up really. He never quite knows what option to choose, no matter how old they get. Dan/Blair. AU. Collection of oneshots.

Genre: Romance/General

Chapter Focus: Prompt 312 of 1000 Theme Challenge, "Got a Ticket to Ride"

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: … I forgot to count

Author's Starting Notes: The Seven Days of Updating continues and with it comes the next Truth, Blair, or Consequence oneshot. This will be the last one on here for 2008. But, feel free to influence me to put the next one up relatively soon in 2009. Read and review. I count the latter as sunshine on a cloudy day.

Time Stamp: Posted December 30, 2008

II: Got a Ticket to Ride (#312)

He stands out in the crowd like a sore thumb. Between the valley of crisply pressed beige and plush ivory, dropped down like cookie dough onto a baking sheet, is Daniel Humphrey. His hands stir nervously in his pockets. His eyes dart around the room. He is, by definition, a social retard. Still, she approaches, albeit cautiously.

She watches for a sign that he is looking for someone else. When none comes, she grasps his wrinkled 90's jacket in her perfectly manicured claws, and drags him into the nearest room. She closes the door with one hand. He struggles to get his arm back while she locks the door securely.

"Let go of my arm!" he commands once the door is shut. She releases him instantly.

"What do you think you are doing here?" she demands. His earlier comment ignored.

"I think I am being harassed by a ridiculously short brunette," he quips. She is not amused. He reiterates, "I came to see you."

"You came to see me?" she repeats, "Why on Earth would you do such a stupid thing?"

He shrugs, "I needed to talk to you," he starts, and she eggs him on with her brown eyes, "I figured that right now the very last thing you would want is to deal with me. I kept that in mind the entire time I left here, went home, and came back. I found that I couldn't convince myself that coming here was a bad idea. It can't be a bad idea, because it's perfect."

"Humphrey, you're speaking in tongues," she grinds out impatiently.

"Understood. With your mom and Cyrus married, Chuck indisposed, and Serena going away, you're going to be alone all break," he informs her.

"I'll have Dorota," she corrects.

"Hired help never counts," is his dismissive reply. He continues, unabashed, "I'm also going to be pretty much to myself. My dad will probably be holed up, and who knows what Jenny does these days. I was thinking maybe we could hang out during break."

Blair nearly loses her jaw. She's pretty sure it stops only an inch above the floor.

He hastily adds, "There's not much of another choice."

"Humphrey, if ever there was a person I could spend my life not knowing, it would be you," she insults, and adds as an afterthought, "You're annoying, judgmental, ruined my relationship, stole my best friend from me, introduced your dumb little sister into this world, sabotaged my thing with Chuck, and you showed up at my mother's wedding wearing that."

He peers down at his choice of clothing. His father's old jacket and a pair of jeans; it certainly had seemed better before she shed some light on it.

"You mentioned the Chuck thing twice," Dan says in response.

"The first one was for letting your wicked little sister hear about me and Chuck. The second one was for your asshole behavior this year," she clarifies.

"Nice to know I'm being consistent," he comments.

"No, it isn't," she argues.

He looks away from her. The carpet is much less intimidating than the death glare on her pretty face. The most it can do is give him some ugly burns. She, on the other hand, can do much, much worse.

"Blair, I think we really should hang out," he tells her. She scoffs.

"You think we should hang out. What are we twelve? Grow a backbone and ask me out like a real man, would you?"

He straightens his posture, looks into those brown eyes, and steadily utters the dreaded question.

"Blair, will you spend time with me this break?"

"No," she declares happily. His face falls, "You are too easy. Well, thanks for stopping by."

The not-so-subtle demand of his departure hangs in the air for a moment. He grabs his metaphoric scissors and cuts the ties that bind loose. He has a few more things to say to her.

"Blair, I'm not leaving until the answer is yes," he stresses.

"Did Serena find this determination cute? Or are you just that idiotic? Leave, Humphrey."

He shakes his head. "I can't do that. I promised Cedric that I wouldn't come home without a date again," he improvises.

"Who cares? It's a doll!" Blair exclaims.

"And Audrey Hepburn is a pathetic actress who does sucky movies," Dan declares. Blair's eyes narrow even further.

"You did not just insult Audrey in my home," she states with disbelief.

"I believe I did," he notes. His gaze is up in a thoughtful manner, but they both know he is really only thinking his next argument to convince her to 'hang out' with him.

"You can not insult Audrey. She is a god when in this building," Blair insists, wondering why she just doesn't shove out Brooklyn out on his ass.

"Good thing I'm an atheist then," he offers playfully.

"You have until the count of ten before I have you thrown out," Blair warns.

"Now is that a one-go, or a one, then go?" he inquires.

"Ten," she counts.

"You never answered my question. I think you should start the count over."

"Eight," she goes on.

"If you don't stop counting, I'll have to do something risky," he threatens.

She keeps going. "Six."

"Fine, but you asked for it."

She is halfway through saying four when he sweeps into the space between them, pulls her into his hold, and clashes his lips firmly against hers. It is a poorly illustrated plot that serves only to make Dan look even more like an idiot for trying. Despite that, she pushes inwards. She puts in just as much energy as he does -- if not more. The two move awkwardly together. It isn't seamless and flowing like all her kisses with Chuck, nor is it lackluster and painful like the ones she shared with Nate.

He can't compare them to anything with Serena -- the bubbly feeling those created is so very different than what he feels now. He feels at a loss. She feels no better. They cling to it, though, holding onto each other physically while they can't emotionally.

His hands move from his sides. They are drawn straight to her waist where they grip effortlessly onto the smooth fabric of her ensemble. His fingers probe around coming across a small spot that elicits a moan from somewhere deep within her. He almost wants to laugh. Serena always went wild for things having to do with her neck and ears. For someone as closed-off and serious as a Waldorf, it surely does seem unconventional to find something below more maddening and provoking. Luckily, it plays in his favor.

She struggles for control of herself. It certainly has been a while since a man (boy, she tries to think) has gotten so close to her. The sensation brought on by Dan's body flush against hers is temping. Her hormones scream at her mind in a battle. She does not even need the purring coming from her to tell her which is winning.

A split second their lips are separated. Only long enough for one word before she latches back onto him. The one thing she cannot decide is if this is simply lust-driven madness, or if who it is has anything to do with it. Could there be some appeal in that tall, poorly dressed form? Maybe Serena was onto something, after all. Certainly his lips can't be his only admirable feature. The very thought has her cheeks warming embarrassingly. She is sure he can feel the blush in her kiss. He breaks away, and she nearly curses herself. She stops the moment his lips redirect to trailing chaste kisses along her jaw line. Another moan breaks the surface as he kisses the side of her lips and keeps going.

Dan conceals a smirk. Had someone told him he would be seducing Blair Waldorf in a guest room last year -- hell, a few weeks ago -- he would have recommended they head to the Ostroff Center. Yet, here he is, in one of the few empty rooms in the Waldorf-Cyrus home, enjoying the sweet sounds that resonate from the woman he claims to dislike. He catches wind of one of those peacefully erratic noises and recognizes the telltale feel of blood rushing south. He knows he cant keep this up much longer, or he will blow the entire thing out of the water. He lets his hands wander down her back, pausing for a moment to cup her behind. He brings them back up, and entangles them in her deep, brown hair. She makes a squeak that resembles his name. His lips return to hers.

He puts a bit of space between them, "Still against more time together?" he questions.

"Nothing has changed," she responds shakily. Her chest heaves as her lungs work on getting oxygen. The true emotion to her answer is missing, replaced by the breathy pants still coming from her mouth.

"You should give me a chance."

She grins, "I should do a lot of things."

"Be with me," he requests, "I could be everything Chuck never was."

"Or, you could be exactly like him," she tacks on.

"I'm nothing like Chuck Bass."

"But you do have a Y-chromosome. I have to inform you that it is programmed in there a need to fuck everything up," she says.

"And programmed in that second X is the desire to be a bitch?" he wonders.

"That's harsh," she notes.

"If we're blaming character traits on chromosomes, it better affect the female population too."

"I don't get this, Cabbage Patch," she admits after a pause. He knows instantly that the previous talk has been redirected.

"Do you think I do, Blair? I wake up some mornings, and you're the only thing on my mind. It's weird and unnerving. I lie in bed thinking of headbands and witty remarks. Then, I wind up where I am now. I don't understand, but I want to. I have this urge to know everything that makes you who you are," he confesses seriously.

"That sounds a little obsessive," she remarks.

"What can I say? We Humphreys can do obsession pretty well."

Her eyes turn down to her shoes. "I can't."

"Why can't you? I only need a sign, Blair. I've got dollars to spend, chocolate to buy. I just need my golden ticket," he prompts. She rolls her eyes.

"Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, really? That's a little old school even for your retro tastes," she deflects.

"It's a classic," he says matter-o-factly.

"Well, why don't you just take the glass elevator and get the hell out of my chocolate factory?" she asks. He sighs, defeated.

"Fine, I'll leave. Wish your mother a happy marriage from the Humphrey clan, and send Serena my best," Dan concludes. Blair nods at him in agreement.

He picks up the jacket he had dropped during their make out session from the ground. His warm eyes meet hers, and he sees it. He grins slightly. Then, he leaves.

Harsh leaves crunch under the pressure of his feet. He rushes through the raindrops to check the mailbox across the street. While all the normal things go straight to them, the new mailman insists on dropping some things in the section designated for mail outside the loft. He arrives to find the box flagged. He opens it with his key, and pulls out the envelope from inside. He rips it open. Reaching inside, he finds two things waiting for him. A plane ticket to L.A. and a note. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out.

He chuckles, tucking the ticket inside his jacket. He runs back across the street where he notices a car parked. A figure is standing beneath an umbrella. She turns to him, a faint grin on her lips.

"You've got your ticket now, Humphrey. Ready for the ride of your life?" she asks.

"Depends. Do I have to bring my grandpa?"

© Everything written above belongs to me (FF user, Paint Me a Symphony). If somebody is out there pushing this as their own, they are lying. I may not own Gossip Girl, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, or either's respective characters, but I do own this.