It's Thanksgiving at the Waldorf's so schemes are in order...
Beta'd by ASadAir
Dan can't quite admit to his family that he's spending Thanksgiving with the girl he spontaneously married in Vegas two months ago. So instead, he fibs, saying he's spending it at a friend's, though he wonders to himself how deceitful that statement is. Who was Blair Waldorf to him, aside from her esteemed title of "ex-wife"?
Blair has sent him instructions to dress in his most "hipsterish" ensemble and to leave his hair "as unruly as possible." She also went so far as to suggest wearing a t-shirt with a hole in it and said that his raw-edge one would work if he "could not locate most of his raggedy wardrobe". Dan scoffed at this; he could practically see her sitting in her UES apartment, nestled into her throne of a chaise, chin upturned, commanding her army of servants with a flick of her finger while listing out her demands at Dan over the phone. He half expected to receive a PDF of a dressing guide in his inbox the day after their call.
The advice made him a tiny bit self-conscious, he hadn't ever thought she paid that much attention to what he wore in the week they had known each other. In the end, he only selectively heeds her advice, layering a blazer over the t-shirt she suggested but taming his "unruly" curls with some hair product before realizing he was under strict instructions not to. He contemplates how she'll react to this act of rebellion.
When her name had popped up on his phone earlier in the week, he didn't truly expect her to be at the other end of the line. He figured it was an accidental dial or perhaps another one of her signature ruses. But hearing her voice, firm and purposeful, gave him a bubble of hope he didn't quite want to let rise.
When she had asked him to Thanksgiving, he realized it was a ridiculous notion to ever expect to forget about her. He told himself he only said yes because Blair wasn't the type of person you could say no to. But a small part of his conscious knew that wasn't true. He had wondered about her frequently in the past two months. Even idly thinking of reaching out to her, but always backing out before the desire to see her again could truly take hold.
So instead, he had let himself believe she could be left behind in the past.
And now, he was on a Manhattan-bound subway to meet her family. He glances down at the Thanksgiving-themed bouquet of flowers he bought at the organic market down the street from his loft. Blair will probably hate it, if not solely for the fact that an unthoughtful guest would arrive empty-handed.
Sure enough, he is met with a scowl for a greeting as he steps out of the penthouse elevator. He, in turn, registers that she looks beautiful in her gold-flecked top and pleated skirt. She steps forward and admonishes him in hushed tones. "Hello, did you not pay attention during our chat? Bringing flowers hardly screams neglectful husband."
Blair suddenly retrieves a small object from her pocket and proffers her hand. Her palm reveals a silver ring that judging by her expectant face, he's supposed to wear. He now notices that the rose gold diamond eternity band is back on her ring finger and he wonders how far exactly she's taken this ruse. If he were more brazen, he would slide the ring up to see if there's a tan line there for an indication that she really has kept this scheme up during the past two months...
Instead, Dan takes the ring, fingers brushing against her soft palm and slips it on his finger as footsteps echo down the hallway.
"Blair," A crisp voice with a haughty lilt drifts into the foyer and is followed by a woman that Dan can only presume is Blair's mother.
Blair snatches the flowers and pastes on a smile, "How thoughtful of you to bring me flowers. Although you know peonies are my favorite," She emphasizes the word "me", before turning to her mother. "Mother, this is Dan, my husband."
The word that he thought he wouldn't hear again ignites a strange twisting sensation in his gut. He outstretches his hand as the sophisticated woman introduces herself as Eleanor Waldorf. "Nice to meet you-"
He catches Blair's eye and notices her rapid gesticulations, visible to only him. Dan takes her hint and drops formalities. "Eleanor."
He watches a tiny flicker of disapproval cross Eleanor's features but then it's gone. "Come inside, Dorota will take your coat. Dorota!"
When the maid appears, she's beaming. "Hello, again Mr. Dan. So good to see you."
"You too," He lets her take his coat. "Thank you."
Blair passes the flowers to Dorota to put in a vase and then turns her attention to her mother.
"Dan and I are going up to my room, Mother. He left behind a jacket when he was here last." Eleanor waves off Blair's excuse and lets them proceed up the stairs.
Dan tries to look like he knows where he's going since he clearly is supposed to have been here before. Once they're upstairs and out of earshot, Dan comments, "Funny, I don't recall leaving a jacket behind on my last imaginary visit."
Blair looks at him wearily and shakes her head, "This way."
She leads him into an elegantly decorated bedroom with portraits of Audrey Hepburn and Marie Antoinette. There's a fireplace adjacent to the bed and a chaise lounge in one corner.
"My mother and Cyrus closed escrow on a house in Gramercy Park a few months ago." She explains. "So this is mine now and I suppose this is probably the last Thanksgiving we will have in this house."
"Your parents have two houses?" Dan feels his eyes widen.
"My mother does," Blair nods. "My dad just has the one in the French countryside. It's on a vineyard though."
She says this all as though it's a typical run-of-the-mill humble abode complete with a golden retriever in the front yard. All Dan can manage to say is, "It's really nice."
Blair sits on the bed and gestures for Dan to do the same. "So as far as my mother and Cyrus know, we spend time together regularly. I told them what you told me in terms of your career and family life. But feel free to embellish with any appalling details you can come up with. Oh, what do you think about living next door to a drug den?"
Her brown eyes are alight with mischief as she thinks of this. Even though it's a ridiculous suggestion, he still finds his chest stirring at the sparkle in her eyes.
"Not good," Dan replies honestly. "You're really set on horrifying your mother, aren't you?"
Blair nods and Dan asks why.
She huffs before answering. "She didn't invite my dad to dinner tonight and lied about it, saying he couldn't make it all the way from France. But he told me himself that she said she wasn't hosting Thanksgiving this year."
Dan scans her face, "You and your dad are close?"
"Yes." Blair replies curtly.
"Does he think you're still married?"
"Oh no, of course not." Blair twists the ring on her finger. "I told him right away when it was annulled. But he and my mother don't talk enough for her to find out the truth."
"Does anyone else think we're still married?" Dan is suddenly curious. He thinks of the line she had given Penelope about embracing married life and speculates if she let all her friends believe they were letting it stick.
"No," Her tone is light. "So don't worry, this won't have permanent ramifications on your dating life if that's what you are thinking. Though, I doubt word would travel all the way to Brooklyn."
"By the way," A thought strikes Dan and he tries to sound detached as he asks his next question. "Has our brief and now defunct marriage affected your dating life as you feared it would?"
He feels Blair's eyes land on him, slightly suspicious. But then they clear, honesty reflected in her brown irises. "No, I haven't gone on any dates since then... So I wouldn't know. You?"
"Me neither," Dan replies sincerely as he tries not to acknowledge a feeling a lot like relief that stirred as soon as she said she hadn't dated anyone recently.
He tries his luck. "So since your mother has never actually met me, you probably could have had anyone pretend to be your fake husband tonight."
"Why make someone pretend to be my fake husband when I could just ask my real husband?" Blair counters. "Besides, that would make this lie a little too extreme."
"But you are lying by having them think we're still married." Dan points out, deflecting the feeling that ignited at her calling him her 'real husband.' "You realize that, right?"
"It's an omission. There's a difference. I'm not a pathological liar." She looks at him expectantly for his understanding.
"You have a strange sense of morality."
Blair seems to like this remark and smiles as she stands. "Let's go back downstairs. Oh, except, wait..."
She suddenly reaches forward with purpose and messes up his hair a bit. Dan frowns, bringing a hand up to his hair reflexively. "Hey, what are you-"
"Your hair looked too neat," Then she shifts his blazer so it's slightly askew and walks towards the mirror above her bedroom fireplace. She undoes a button on her top and presses her lips against a tissue a few times, smudging her crimson lipstick slightly. Next, he watches as she runs a nail against her tights so a snag appears right along the thigh.
"There," She looks contented. "Now it looks like you were just defiling me with my mother right downstairs. Like the improper husband I've painted you as."
Dan is stricken, "What? No, I didn't- I don't want your mother to think that I would do that."
"Well, I do." Blair says firmly with a lift to her brows and a smirk across her face to tell him she doesn't care what he thinks. "Come on."
She takes his hand and doesn't drop it as they march into the kitchen. Her mother is there hovering over a chef. Eleanor turns and surveys them with a grimace. "Blair, darling, it looks like you could use a touch up on your lipstick."
Her disapproving tone clearly satisfies Blair. Her mother walks off into the dining room with a huff of annoyance as Blair says to Dan, "Be right back."
Dorota materializes in front of him and is a welcome reprieve from the seeming battlefront he's stumbled into. "Good you are here. Miss Blair in terrible mood since she find out Mister Waldorf not come for Thanksgiving. But now, she happy."
Dorota gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he stands there mystified. The implication that his presence here has made Blair happier bewilders him. He thought he was just a pawn in her game against her mother, although perhaps that's what Dorota means.
He's probably reading too much into things.
Dinner is filled with even more hostility and tension as Blair's mother makes acute remonstrations at her daughter throughout the feast. Cyrus, her husband, tries to play peacekeeper every so often but inevitably fails as Eleanor comments on everything from the number of carbs on Blair's plate to Blair's alcohol intake. He sees Blair's face fall at one point, a storm brewing in her expressions but as soon as she senses Dan looking at her, it's gone. Still, he reached over and put a hand on hers, thinking if anything it was a husbandly gesture. Blair had stared at their clasped hands before smiling the tiniest bit and emptying her wine glass. The food on her plate, on the other hand, remained mostly uneaten.
When dessert had arrived, her mother had not-so-subtly suggested Blair pass on the whipped cream. Dan had been passing the homemade whipped cream to Blair when this suggestion was made. He hovered the ceramic container in the air, just a moment, before firmly placing the container in front of Blair. Blair, in return, had met her mother's gaze with narrowed eyes and had put a full dollop of whipped cream atop her pumpkin pie. The unsaid words, fuck off, were clear in this gesture.
Watching the ongoing exchanges between mother and daughter, both verbal and nonverbal, had provided clarity to Dan. Before he had thought she was being a bit harsh on her mother with such an elaborate prank but now, he completely understood. So he did his best to be everything Eleanor Waldorf would hate, without being an outright impolite guest.
He decided little gestures would be okay, like passing Blair the basket of rolls with a gentle nudge right after the carbs comment. Or refilling her wine after Eleanor's reminder of the number of calories per glass. Blair didn't need a single one of those comments from her mother and he was perturbed to think that perhaps that was the reason Blair was so thin.
When he had the urge to feel guilty about what Eleanor might think of his behavior, he thought of that troubled look on Blair's face and the stab of regret would pass.
After dessert, Blair suggests that Eleanor show Dan some of her work at Waldorf Designs. Eleanor lights up at this and leads him into the sitting room where a mantle holds some photos from a past Waldorf Designs collection.
"This is from a few years back," Eleanor is saying now as she pulls a silver-framed photo from the center of the mantle. Dan instantly recognizes Serena as he observes the photo. Serena is wearing a poofy strapless dress, standing in front of a studio backdrop. In another shot, it's a sheath dress she's in and she's staring blankly at the camera.
"One of my favorite shoots." Eleanor continues and he feels Blair tense beside him. "Serena just wears the clothing so well."
"Is Serena a professional model?" Dan asks, biting back a skeptical undertone while frowning at the picture.
"No," Eleanor chuckles. "But that girl is a natural. I think she's missed her calling, to be honest."
At this Blair starts to turn away but Dan reaches for her to stay, placing a gentle hand on her back. Then, with his other hand, he picks up a photo with her in it alongside Serena, of course. In the photo, Serena seems to be directing Blair who's mirroring her best friend's pose. There's a bright smile on her face and her eyes crinkle at the corner with happiness.
Dan is firm and honest as he announces. "I like this one best."
"Oh, yes," Eleanor remarks vaguely. "It is quite interesting to see how different the looks are on each of the girls. Serena just really brings the clothing to life."
Dan doesn't miss the note of disapproval towards Blair and he feels her stiffen, slightly. He musters his most pensive expression, one an art snob might sport as he says, "I was going to say the opposite."
Continuing, he keeps his eyes fixed on the photo. "But I suppose I can agree that Serena definitely brings a different quality to the design. On Blair, it's clear the design would attract a highly sophisticated customer. A CEO, perhaps, or a fashion editor. But on Serena, it appeals to the everyday girl, doesn't it? Actually, I think Jenny has a dress just like that orange one Serena's wearing. From Forever 21, I think."
Dan glances over to see Blair staring back at him in awe. Her firmly pressed lips are tugged upward at the corner, as though she's trying to conceal a fit of laughter.
Eleanor, meanwhile, has plucked the photo from his hands and taken on an icy tone, "Hm, that is an… interesting, opinion, Daniel. I think perhaps, Blair, you might consider educating your husband a bit more on fashion. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She strides out of the sitting room and lets the door slam behind her.
A glorious burst of laughter flows from Blair. "Oh… my… God. I can't believe you just compared my mother's design to a Forever 21 dress. I think she's going to go punch something judging by her face. Maybe she'll even fire her chief designer."
At that comment, Dan momentarily wonders if he's gone too far. He lets his hand fall from Blair's back. "Sorry, did I take that too far?"
Blair shakes her head emphatically. "No, not at all. That was exceptional. Truly a masterpiece of a moment."
Reassured, Dan grins at Blair and feigns a nonchalant shrug. "Just doing my best to be the world's worst son-in-law."
"And succeeding at it." The magnitude of the grin Blair gives Dan makes the title completely worth it. She steps forward gently and grazes his cheek with a kiss. "Thank you."
His breath catches and he forces himself to keep his gaze on her face as she pulls back. The serene smile on her lips makes her more beautiful than he thought possible and he's rendered speechless. So he just nods and lets the memory of her lips against his cheek linger a little longer.
TBC...
