Thanks for the lovely reviews flooding my inbox over the past couple of days! They've totally inspired me to go on not writing my actual original work and write more of this story. And no! it's not finished, I promise. I have no clue where it's going after the next chapter, but I'm aiming for a couple more, nothing epic or massive that I know I won't be able to finish though. (Boo, real life, amiright?) Anyway, response has been exhilarating! Please review more! All of them have been wonderful but also so thoughtful and smart. I have damn good readers. - Air
"To mistake it for a love story is to mistake it entirely, it's more poignant, and what makes it more lasting than any other off Broadway drama at the moment is that it's about a love that never had the chance to be a story…" Lily read aloud from the New Yorker review and fanned herself with the magazine upon finishing her breath. "Oh my, Daniel. I simply cannot believe these reviews."
"If I didn't know my son better I'd have half a mind to think he bought them," Rufus chimed in.
"Then you've miscalculated, Dad, because you'd know I would have if I had the money in my bank account," Dan responded with a smile.
The family had gathered those in town or willing to fly in for an impromptu party once the reviews had propelled the play to the talk of the town. Dan tried to quell Lily's need to throw a society party, for his natural sense of pride and embarrassment kicked in.
"Oh, Humphrey, still trying to act as if you don't have a trust account," Blair sighed and rolled her eyes at him. He was still trying to figure out why the Basses showed up when his own sister failed to. He'd guessed since Jenny and Serena were out of town, Lily had put considerable pressure on Chuck to support his quasi stepbrother along with Eric and his parents. Dan wished she'd known how exceedingly unhelpful Lily's good deed was.
"I'm sorry, why are you here again?" Dan shot daggers at Blair, who held his gaze with equally fiery eyes until she swept her eyelashes down and reached for her champagne.
"We're here to support the family, Daniel," Chuck rasped.
"What are we, the Corleones?" Dan asked, exasperated.
"You two really should go and see it," Eric added, trying to quell the bickering.
"We really shouldn't," Blair mumbled.
"Yes, you really shouldn't," Dan spit back.
"What Blair means to say is, we really couldn't at this time. Bass Industries is expanding to Brazil and we're planning to spend a lot of time in between Manhattan and Sao Paolo," Chuck mediated, ever the businessman. "Perhaps if your piece is lucky enough to have longevity, we'll catch it in time."
"Well, a blessing as I'll ever get from Chuck Bass," Dan responded. "Who wants another drink before the guests get here? I know I sure do."
"Another drink?" Blair asked as she scooped up the third bottle of wine and carried it, slightly teetering, back to the living room floor of her penthouse.
"I still can't believe you don't like the French New Wave. Blair Waldorf, worshipper of all things French and stupid, instead of French and revolutionary," Dan rambled on as she leaned over the coffee table and poured two fresh glasses of Bordeaux.
"Old Hollywood was an era of glamour and grace. Le Noveau Vague becomes retro chic, with the skinny ties and the ennui. It's much too pretentious and understated to the point of boredom." He couldn't believe it. She was wasted and could speak like that. Sure, her V's were a little softer. He imagined her lips becoming numb and buzzing with the vibrations of her diction, and how her brain was thinking faster than her molasses tongue would allow. And yet she would not heel. She continued. "Which is why you like it so much I would guess."
The floor was padded with plush pillows and throws and felt rather like the den of a rich lioness. Dan supposed it was only fitting if Blair were to condescend to sit on the floor. She couldn't have planned it as forethought to a romantic evening. It was too quick for that. After their initial kiss in the elevator, and their subsequent makeout session in her room, they'd both left their predicament un-discussed and wide open to interpretation.
So when Blair had called him and snipped into the receiver, "I think it's time we face this properly and in good taste. My place, ten tonight, and normally I'd tell you to bring a bottle, but I don't trust your taste in spirits, so be prepared to consume very large, very large quantities of wine. Or else I'll never get through this."
The line went dead before Dan had had the time to begin processing the intentions behind it. So it was extremely unlikely that she's had Dorota setup for a date. This wasn't a date. No. No? Then what was it? Fuck. Dan Humphrey was drunk. He was drunk and trying to figure out what the hell he was doing trailing his eyes up the back of Blair Waldorf's skirt. Thinking about her tongue as sweet molasses. Thinking about her
He was suddenly struck with the thought that maybe this was the exact reason she'd decided they needed to be drunk. They couldn't stand each other, but couldn't resist each other. Sooner or later they were bound to rip each other's clothes off, so why not grab the elephant in the room by its tusks, get it drunk, and then address it?
He grabbed her elbow and swiftly maneuvered her down against the pillows propped upped against the chaise. He was half leaning, half hovering over her, his eyes glassy from the fog of alcohol until he could blink and refocus on her in macro. She glared at him.
"I know what you're doing. We both know we can't stand each other, but for some reason we can't resist each other. Sooner or later they were bound to rip each other's clothes off, so why not grab the elephant in the room by its tusks, get it drunk, and then address it? See? I know what you've done. You're shifty."
Blair's expression remained grave. "You're—you're disgusting and beneath me," she beautifully and intoxicatingly articulated, giving away the state of her thoughts and the cloud of her wit by the wine.
"And you're trying to get in my pants," Dan said and smiled. He inched closer to her, his hands now on the floor on either side of her and his face growing closer to hers by the centimeter.
Blair grew uncomfortable. She needed to come out of this with the upper hand and she was sorely losing. She was too drunk to be cunning. Too much in a corner to be snide. He was expecting both and she knew it.
"Guilty," she grinned and wrinkled her nose. "So kiss me already."
"I don't think so," he sighed and rolled off of his hands and leaned back against the chaise next to her. "You planned it, I grant you the honors."
Her brow furrowed in anger before she grew a sly smile. "Oh, I see." She slinked across him and straddled him, arms slinging around his neck. Dan gulped audibly. "You know, Humphrey, as well as I do, that what we're both thinking is all we need a night of primal, animalistic, raw…" she trailed off, attempting to be seductive while truthfully losing her words in her brain. Dan's increasingly heavy breathing and hooded eyelids didn't help any. He really had exquisite bone structure.
"Anyway!" She snapped out of her slight drunken trance. "And honestly I won't blame you if you become doe-eyed for me after, but you must know I mean to squash whatever lustful creature of inappropriate and classless feelings this is and go back to despising you without the urge to kiss you. So…" her voice popped, "I can understand why you'd want to play this game."
She swung her hair flippantly. "Wait wait wait a minute," Dan responded. "You don't think I want the exact same thing? That I don't question if I've recently suffered a brain injury and am attracted to the one girl in the world who symbolizes everything I hate? This is like a sick Greek tragedy."
"Like Zeus…or better yet Hades has us on puppet strings—wait what?"
"What?"
"It's that incredulous to you that you'd ever be attracted to me? I'm not exactly hideous."
"Well neither am I!" Dan retorted.
"Ugh, I am so over this!" Blair screeched in frustration.
"So am I!" Dan growled.
They were both fuming, and the heat from their argument had heightened their senses, the alcohol was sending prickling sensations to their fingers and toes, and Blair was still straddling Dan.
With a rush of forward momentum, her lips clashed with his furiously. Maybe it was the wine, but she really did taste like molasses.
A.N. - p.s. to write the sex scene or not to write the sex scene?