Part 4
'Gracie vanished into the night mist like a departing phantom, like an old man's dream unfulfilled towards the end of his life. '
Dan wondered, as he slid into the dark booth at the corner, whether or not he should take out his laptop and start working here. It would be faster that way. He thought twice about it before vetoing the idea. The light from the screen would catch Chuck's attention and he was bound to investigate. This was not the best idea that Dan had had. Stalking Chuck in his preferred haunt was just going to piss him off more than he already was, but Dan had to get his ideas and he had to confront his Muse head on.
'She had thrummed with energy the entire night, a faerie princess who could spin fantastical webs of color and light. Gracie's descent into a gray world like his own was a gift in itself, and watching her get sucked back into that reality with one call was like watching the princess fall.
"You know you don't need to react at every little thing he does," he told her as she was about to step outside.
Gracie looked back at him with sad eyes, her dark lashes casting deep shadows, on her cheeks. "You don't know anything about me."
"I know why you're leaving, and I know he's not worth the time."
She narrowed her eyes at him, as if he was a target. "Just because I've agreed to work with you, doesn't mean you can assume anything about my life."
The door closed firmly behind her, and he clenched his jaw. He reached for the knob and opened the door, then hurried after her.
"Gracie!" he called out as he jogged after her.
She stopped in her tracks but didn't turn around. Gracie reached up briefly to her cheeks, and even without her turning to face him, he knew she was brushing tears away. "Just let go. Email me your essay and I'll give you my notes tomorrow."
He walked forward and stopped beside her, then placed his palm on the small of her back. He raised a hand to hail a cab. "I'll take you home. It's not safe out here alone at night."
They sat at the back of the cab in silence, with her on one end and him the other. Gracie spent the entire travel time looking out the window. He knew, because he spent the time watching her.'
After Blair had disconnected her call, sullen and shuttered the way she usually was, Dan could not extract any more juicy tidbits from her. He had hoped to find out more before she got off the taxi. To his dismay, she shared nothing. But the plot had become more interesting already, and he had to work on the other end of that story to give the event more perspective. And so instead of going home, he made a pit stop.
'Charlie sat at his favorite table, right at the center of the bar, where people passed by him a few dozen times through the night with not so much as a word. He adored the utter isolation, this loneliness amidst the crowd. He threw back his scotch and his face remained passive, expressionless, as if the liquid didn't burn its way down his throat.
The redhead that sauntered towards Charlie Trout had the seductive smile of a practiced temptress. Charlie returned the curve of her fire engine red lips with a smirk all his own. Charlie smirked as if he owned the whole city, and the young woman encouraged it. With Charlie Trout, that illusion of grandeur was not so much illusion as fact. He lowered his gaze to the sway of the hips hugged by the black dress.
"Sofia," Charlie said in recognition of the new arrival.
"Charlie," purred the woman. She slid into the seat beside Charlie Trout and leaned over to whisper into his ear.'
Dan strained to hear the sweet nothings, but he had been too far away to listen in and those red lips were too close to the shell of Chuck's ear that he could not even read the words. From his seat, the only clear line of sight he had was of Chuck's face. He had a look of satisfaction as the young woman's tongue danced around the shell of his ear. Chuck rested his hand at the back of her head. His lips parted at the sensations that the experienced girl was providing.
He looked up at the people in the bar, and wondered when someone would clear his throat to call the attention of the obviously underage couple who were publicly assaulting each other. When the young woman's started kissing along the lines of his jaw, Chuck's hands tightened around her waist.
Chuck's lips met hers and Dan frowned. At that exact moment, Chuck's gaze met his. Chuck disentangled himself from the young woman and strode towards Dan with a scowl.
"Don't tell me I have to get a restraining order against you," he said coldly.
Dan steeled himself for an attack, but Chuck reached for his notebook instead. Dan made a grab for it, but Chuck deflected. "Don't tear it," were the first words out of his mouth, and he kicked himself. If anything, Chuck would destroy it faster because that's what Dan asked him not to do. He waited with bated breath as Chuck turned a page and read. To his surprise, Chuck tossed the notebook back to him.
"I just didn't want you writing about my life. At least you've gone back to obsessing about my stepsister." Chuck turned to walk back to his table, then threw an advice back at him, "If you've found that you're prolific in this place, order a beer or something, and act like a patron."
Instead of sitting back down, Chuck whispered into the girl's ear and she stood up to leave with him. Dan looked down at the notebook, surprised at Chuck's comments. He had not written about Serena in weeks. He checked what Chuck must have read.
It was his description of the cab ride, of the New York City lights dancing on her face as she looked out the window.
'When the lights reflected against her skin, you could see the whole world on her face,' it started.
Chuck must have already been drunk, because Serena was nowhere on the page.
'Her eyes were faraway, in some perfect world that was not here. He ached to reach for her chin just so he would turn those eyes on him and he could drown, down, spiraling and bending and twisting, because to drown in them would have to be the happiest death.
But he was not perfection, and those eyes only deserved to look at perfection. He stayed in the corner and watched her that entire night, wondering when the world would stop to notice that she was waiting too.'
Dan read the lines over and over, remembering how feverishly he had scribbled that while at the back of the cab. This was not right. It was damn near impossible for this to be right. Stream of consciousness being the best modern fic tool there was, he could not believe that this was his product. He stood up from the table and ran outside, then flagged another cab. This was definitely one of the most expensive nights in his life when it came to transportation.
He gave Blair's address to the driver, then looked out the window. Vaguely, he noticed the redhead in the black dress making her way back into the bar. He made a quick note in his head to include that small detail in Charlie Trout's story. He hoped he would remember it. Now, his hand was too unsteady to write it down in his notebook.
After having dropped Blair off only a couple of hours before, he had no trouble getting in and the doorman merely nodded him through. Dan made his way up to the penthouse. The elevator doors opened to a silent room. He looked around for the maid.
He felt like a thief, making his way up the stairs of an Upper East Side penthouse. Dan walked towards her room. She was awake. He could see the light from the bottom of the bedroom door. Dan poised his hand for a knock. He took a deep breath, then rapped on the door.
"Just bring it inside, Dorota!" he heard her voice call out from inside.
Dan turned the knob, and the door opened. He stood right outside her bedroom. A few feet across from him, on the other side of the bed, stood Chuck Bass tucking his shirt into his pants. Dan did not move, stayed silent as he met Chuck's stare.
"Hey what is it?" Blair stepped out of the bathroom wearing her nightgown. She gasped when she saw Dan standing right outside her door. "Humphrey!" Silently, Chuck bent to pick up her dark green bedrobe and handed it to her. Blair reached for it frantically and shrugged it on. She fumbled with the slippery belt and tried to tie it. "What are doing here?" The belt slid loose from her clumsy fingers.
Dan's attention turned to the unraveling robe.
"Turn around, Brooklyn," came Chuck's deep, curt command. Dan turned his head, and caught sight of Chuck firmly tying the robe from the periphery of his vision.
"I—I didn't know you two were back together," Dan managed to choke out.
Chuck opened his mouth, but Blair cut him off and insisted, "We're not."
Dorota arrived with a tray of sandwiches and two glasses of juice. "Mr Humphrey, I didn't know you were here." She turned to Blair. "Sorry, Ms Blair."
Blair waved off the apology. "Nonsense. He wasn't expected, Dorota." Then she turned to Dan. "But Dorota can make you some if you're staying."
Dan watched as the maid walked into the bedroom and placed the tray on Blair's dresser. So Chuck Bass was expected, then. He noticed down Chuck's hand rose to rest on her upper arm. "You haven't answered Blair's question. Why are you here?"
Dan set his jaw as he wrote the plot out in his head. "I came here to check on Blair. She didn't seem okay during the cab ride back here."
Chuck's eyes narrowed at the implication, remembering the snippet of the story he had read from earlier that night. He had thrown down the gauntlet.
Flustered at the revelation, Blair hurried to the dresser and picked up her glass of juice. "That's very sweet of you, Dan, but as you can see, I'm fine."
"I can't see that." He looked up at Chuck, then back at Blair. "I'll see you tomorrow for the essay review."
Blair nodded. "Let's just meet here, okay? It's closer to school. And the cab ride from Brooklyn was kind of long. It's going to be too expensive for you to keep having to take me home."
Chuck grabbed a sandwich and glared at Dan. "You shouldn't be taking a cab at all," he said smoothly, pointing out the obvious advantage he had over Dan. "I'll take you in the limo."
"Oh please," Blair murmured. "I've learned not to expect anything, Chuck, or else I'd end up waiting outside in Brooklyn for someone who never intended to come."
Chuck shook his head, then grabbed his jacket. "I'll see you at school," he told Blair, then walked out of the room, bumping into Dan.
"Careful, Charlie," Dan whispered. "Bump me too hard and I might spew out a story." He patted Chuck's shirt. "Red lipstick like that stains like hell. Make sure you get that shirt dry cleaned."
Chuck grabbed the front of Dan's shirt. "You be careful, Humphrey. Low hanging fruit is best for your type. Reach for an apple too high up the tree and you'll only end up breaking your neck," he warned.
tbc