a/n: hello there, loves! here comes another flashback chapter, hopefully for your leisure. You know the thrill already, italic is a present interlude, the rest happened five years ago. I decided to write this already because a lot of you wanted to know more about Blair's thought process etc back in the day after I posted the first flashback and I thought just writing chapter after chapter of Blair, Dan and Cynthia trying to gradually become a family (definitely still a long way to go although they're off to a smooth start) could get really monotonous rather easily. Sadly, Dan's only making a completely passive appearance in this one but I hope you won't mind too much. It also turned out a little more drastic than originally intended (the scene between Blair & Chuck, you feel me) but at least I'd say it pretty much eliminates the horror vision of Chair ever getting back together somehow, yuck.
Also, I have my first round of finals this week and the next so I'm afraid you might have to sit tight a bit longer for the next chapter but I hope that'll be okay. Obviously, that has to come first and after next week, I'll definitely be able to update faster again (so sorry for getting you all used to rather fast updates so far haha my bad). Besides, writing tends to be my study break pastime of choice these days so perhaps it won't even take excruciatingly long until I return with a whole day of family bonding time for all three of them (which I'm sure will make quite a few of you really happy since you've all really wanted to see B, C & D bond together I seem to recall)
Now, please try to enjoy another blast from Blair's past & as always, thank you to all of you lovely readers, the ones who resume to give me feedback and therefore make my day in particular! (srsly, you all made my day with the reviews to the last one somehow, idk, perhaps I was just really emotional when I received them ahaha) I love you to the moon and back tbh bahaha.
The rather long list of guest stars today includes the likes of Dorota (she's been promoted to recurring by now I suppose aha), Eleanor Waldorf and Serena van der Woodsen; honorable mention to NYC cab driver guy; Special Guest Star: Chuck Bass xoxo
"Miss Blair, you just relax, I'm sure everything is-"
"Oh, just shut it, Dorota." Blair rolled her eyes in agony. "Humphrey's probably already busy spoiling her innocent little mind with F. Scott Fitzgerald now that he's not under my supervision. I'll be in my room." She added without further explanation, then stormed off.
No need to let Dorota in on her glorious jacket plan. She'd either call her crazy or sentimental and she liked to think she was neither of those things.
Upstairs, the doors to her bedroom flew open.
Enter Blair Waldorf on a mission.
As much as she loved living in the charming little house at the end of the street, it was just that - little, at least considering what she was used to.
Perhaps that would ensure that her daughter would grow up to be a little more humble than she was.
Though she did have a walk-in closet, it would be considered a disgrace by any UES socialite she was acquainted with. The average housewife on the other hand would squeal with delight at the sight.
Relentlessly searching rack after rack, it merely took her five minutes to locate what she had been looking for.
"Still as ugly as it used to be." She frowned as she removed the jacket from the hanger - she had actually taken the time to hang it on a rack with all her nice, presentable clothes instead of simply throwing it into the darkest corner where it belonged? Shame on her past self.
Feeling the fabric already seemed to want to bless her with memories she didn't care to relive for now.
Instead, she gave it a quick sniff to see if it could be returned just like that. Apparently so. Score.
Folding it in half by hanging it across her arm, she was just about ready to step out of the closet again when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in her full-length mirror. This must have been what she had looked like when she had arrived back home, at her mother's.
Tilting her head to the side, she curiously studied her reflected twin.
Come to think of it, she had never really seen herself wearing it, a blurred and distorted elevator reflection aside.
Good thing she could have only been spotted roaming through the streets of Brooklyn as she surely must have looked like a clown.
To clarify if she had once and for all, she took a deep breath and quickly slipped it on.
Well... It wasn't even the worst look, really. If she invested some time in her styling, she could probably pull this off.
But not just the fashion aspect regarding this piece of clothing fascinated her. What took her even more by surprise was that as soon as she had felt the fabric on her skin, the same feeling she had felt the last time she had worn it flooded her entire body again - a strange, irrational wave of comfort.
That morning, the treacherous Brooklyn sunlight had awoken her, tricking her into thinking it must be a lot more pleasant outside than it actually was.
But upon waking up, the weather had been the least of her concerns.
Of far greater importance had to be the fact that she was in Brooklyn of all places in the first place.
In Dan Humphrey's bed.
Naked.
And in possession of the full and stainless memory of last night's happenings.
To be perfectly honest, even though she had been doubtful at all times, she had allowed a very small part of her to make herself believe that by chance she had only had a very vivid and definitely very kinky dream about a man who was definitely not her husband.
That would have been worse enough keeping in mind that it had been her wedding night. God, her wedding night. She had done the unthinkable.
Something she had believed to only be a plot device of poorly written rom coms.
At this point, she couldn't even think straight. She had to get out of here.
But at the same time, she didn't want to get out of here.
Where would she go? Home. Where she would be left to deal with the consequences of her suspicious absence.
Great.
Not only was she not ready to deal with Chuck yet, she also had absolutely no clue what she should say to him at all.
The plan had been to figure that out after getting some distraction by watching the comfort movie of her choice but by the end of it, she had been too busy basically grinding on Humphrey until he had finally obliged and bedded her.
Good God.
What had gotten into her that she had ended up jumping on him like that? There was no doubt about this only having made matters worse.
And he had tried to warn her but naturally, she hadn't listened.
Wishing to slap herself for her soul draining stupor, she remembered that she had wanted to get out of here already.
Out of the bed at least. And dressed.
That would already be a huge leap forward.
The only problem was that she definitely didn't want to wake him up in the process.
It was bad enough that she'd have to deal with an enraged husband soon, she simply couldn't deal with him now as well, no matter how cowardly that made her seem.
Unfortunately for her, neither of them had seemed to have moved much since she had fallen asleep.
Part of her head was still resting on his chest and apparently, he had taken the time to wrap an arm around her sometime after she had entered a deep slumber of exhaustion. This made getting out of bed unnoticed a lot harder than it needed to be.
Biting her bottom lip in concentration, she kept her eyes trained on his face to keep track of every ever so slight twitch and change in his still peaceful expression as she gently and very slowly lifted his arm off of her.
Once she was sure she had gotten lucky and not disturbed him, she rushed to slip out of bed, put her underwear on at the speed of light and gathered the rest of her formerly abandoned clothing just as quickly before she deserted from the crime scene.
Out in the hall, her lungs seemed to fill with twice as much air as they had received in the bedroom.
A few deep, long breaths were drawn before she felt capable of putting her dress back on. Now if only she could remember where she had left her purse.
Hopefully not in the bedroom. No, she surely wouldn't have brought it there.
She hadn't even entered the room until she'd been carried there during a heavy make out session.
Her dehydration wasn't helping her form clear thoughts either.
It was no use, she'd have to find something to drink. As if she really needed to unnecessarily prolong her stay here.
Making her way to the kitchen, she got to experience a mild form of relief before she had even helped herself to a glass of water - her purse was where it always was.
Looked like she had managed to pick the usual spot in spite of her panicked state. Kudos to her brain there.
After finding a bottle of water she certainly hadn't tried before, presumably a wicked eccentric Brooklyn brand, she sat down on a bar stool beside the purse, daintily taking a few sips in a row.
As awful as it tasted, as efficiently did it ease her mind for a bit.
Okay, clear thoughts. Clear, rational thoughts.
Last night had been a mistake, she couldn't deny that. An irreversible act of irresponsibility caused by a wild potpourri of various emotions she didn't have the nerve to explore now.
But couldn't it be that she had made the biggest mistake earlier that day by becoming Mrs Blair Bass?
Most definitely. At least that she had learned from last night.
She couldn't stay married to Chuck, not right now, not at this point. Perhaps they could resolve their issues and try again soon.
Or did she even want that? She wasn't sure.
God, she didn't know anything right now.
Okay, whatever. No more thinking about Chuck for a moment. The way he'd act during their unavoidable confrontation would help her make that decision. Simple solution.
If things could still be considered simple now that she had dragged Dan into her mess for good.
Stupid Humphrey who had to be too caring to just send her away like any rational thinking ex would have.
He should have told her she was no longer his responsibility and shut the door in her face.
But he hadn't.
She had become his responsibility again the second she had entered the loft on the verge of a mental breakdown.
Screw him and his unnatural kindness and sympathy.
Scratch that, she had already done just that.
Couldn't she have just fallen asleep on his shoulder or something, like she had before? In a purely innocent way?
But no. Of course not. Of course she had to go and screw it all up with mindless debauchery.
Could she really blame this on nothing but a deadly mix of panic, confusion and sudden comfort? Not entirely.
Obviously, she was still attracted to Dan in one way or another or this couldn't have happened.
Was there more than just remains of physical attraction? Possibly. Which, once again, only made matters worse.
It would take her a whole day of quiet, undisturbed thinking at the very least to figure this out thus she had to stop herself right here.
A quick conclusion, then she'd have to finally get going and face her misery.
She came to the conclusion that she couldn't just leave like this.
Dan had gone out of his way to make her feel better after all, he didn't deserve this. The least she could do was leave him a note.
Paper and pen weren't hard to acquire under this roof.
In fact, she found both right next to the DVD case of Breakfast at Tiffany's.
Flashing back to their conversation during the film, writing that note was as easy as 123, ABC and however that stupid song went on and on.
And frankly, what she wrote was the truth. She'd need time to reassess both her relationship with Chuck as well as her relationship with him.
As long as she couldn't be sure about her feelings for both of them, being with either of them wouldn't be fair.
Hell, how had she gone from marrying Chuck to considering pursuing a relationship with Humphrey again? Who knew if he was even up for that?
Whatever, she was only confusing herself even more now.
Time to get out before her note would become useless and she'd have to speak to him in person. She'd just leave it right here, that would do.
Shouldering her purse, Blair remembered her good manners and at least cared to put her glass into the sink.
God, had the air been so stuffy in here since she'd entered? Surely, opening a window would only gain her sympathy points.
And it made her realize that if she went outside wearing just this dress, she would rightfully freeze to death.
Great.
Didn't he have some jacket out there? Of course not, at least not in plain sight.
Wonderful.
Recalling that she had spied something that looked like a jacket in the bedroom, she decided to pursue a risky plan - she'd pop in and out, get it and dash.
Grabbing the note from the coffee table, she took a deep breath to brace herself, then tiptoed into the room.
Apparently Humphrey hadn't noticed her absence or he had been relieved as he was now occupying pretty much the entire bed. Selfish much?
Rolling her eyes, she focused on her goal again.
And there it was. The ugly jacket he had been wearing yesterday thrown onto a chair.
Adding a quick PS to her note, she slipped the offending excuse for clothing on, then stereotypically planted the scrap of paper that now felt like a letter on the pillow beside him. This was turning more and more into a poorly written movie, with every passing second.
A few more silent steps and she was out of the loft.
At last.
Success.
Outside the front door, she finally dared to put her heels back on, then made her way into the wilderness that was Brooklyn to her.
Perhaps she should have checked the time at some point as the streets were uncharacteristically deserted for New York standards.
Or was that just the norm here? As if she knew.
Nonetheless, it only took her a few minutes of wandering down the road until she caught a cab right before she wanted to get her phone to call for one.
The driver eyed her curiously through the rearview mirror, even more so once she clued him in on her desired destination.
"Got lost on the wrong side of the bridge, huh? Sure looks like you had a rough night." As if he really needed to show off his poor comedic talent.
Hopefully he wasn't planning on being a cab driver until he got his big break as a stand-up comedian.
Rolling her eyes, Blair put on her fiercest resting bitch face.
"Actually, although it's none of your business, I simply paid a spontaneous visit to an old friend of mine. Now if you could just focus on driving, that would be lovely or else I can see your tip drastically decreasing."
That sure did the trick.
It wasn't until they were crossing Brooklyn Bridge that she dared to take out her still peacefully muted phone.
Maybe the world had given up on looking for her after a few missed calls, realizing that she wasn't in the mood to speak to anyone for the time being, had meekly left a final little call-me-when-you-get-this-text and then left her alone for good.
Of course that had been too much of an utopian vision.
Instead, she unlocked her phone to 44 missed calls, most of them from Chuck, a few more from her mother and Serena and even one from Nate.
Dorota had only called twice, apparently the only one acquainted with her vision.
17 texts posed as the cherry on top.
She wouldn't even bother listening to all those voice mails, surely not. Reading the texts would be hard enough.
Sighing heavily, she slumped back in her seat.
For the first time this morning, she was actually starting to feel bad for what she had done.
Granted, she had realized it hadn't been her smartest idea all along, that she had made a huge mess out of everything but somehow she hadn't managed to actually regret it which probably made her the world's most horrible person.
Did she regret it now? It was hard to say. Maybe a little. But not all that much. Horrible person, that only proved her point.
In the end, she couldn't even bring herself to read the texts. She simply hurriedly opened them to make the offending red notification bubble go away. Once her destination had been reached, she needed a little push to actually get out of the cab – the driver's judgmental gaze worked wonders there. Whatsoever, he had refrained from making any more snarky remarks so his tip was safe. Upon receiving it however, he couldn't resist spewing a dose of earnest advice:
"Listen honey, I know it's none of my business, you've made that very clear, but have a humble bit of advice: whatever's going on in your life, stick to the Brooklyn guy. A guy whose waiting up for you in a building like this won't ever make you happy in the long run."
Half-tempted to tear a bill out of his hands again, she shot him a weak smile instead. Somehow, the words of a non-involved NYC taxi driver stung. Oh, wasn't she just ridiculous?
"Too bad that I've just gotten married to that guy, huh?" Shrugging as if it wasn't a big deal nonetheless, she finally made her way to the building.
During the walk to the elevator, she had still been rather calm and collected.
Inside however, a feeling of uneasiness and mild anxiety started to take a hold of her, mostly induced by the fact that she was clueless about what to expect once she had to leave it. Her mother demanding an explanation was the most likely scenario. That would be bad enough.
Even worse however would be running into a Chuck already and she had a sinking feeling that just that would happen.
Now that she was shielded from the harsh morning breeze, she took the jacket off and folded it across her arms. As distasteful as she thought it to look, it had done its job very well.
Not much longer and she could hear the elevator announcing that she had arrived prior to the doors opening. Momentarily closing her eyes, she took a long, soothing breath, telling herself that she could deal with whatever was waiting for her on the other side of the door and that there was absolutely no need to worry.
She was a strong, independent woman who didn't belong to anybody, least of all her husband.
Newly motivated, she entered the foyer.
For a moment, she believed herself to be alone but she quickly had to realize how horribly mistaken she had been.
Upon entering, she had attracted the attention of two pairs of eyes who were now fixated on her.
Eleanor's and Chuck's.
Worst case scenario.
She had stopped in her tracks only for a second but was now approaching them without showing signs of weakness. If she was fast enough, perhaps she could simply dash for the stairs and lock herself in her room.
But no.
She wouldn't.
She'd face her misery with her head held high, like she had told herself. Having her mother here might actually be a good thing, she might be able to keep Chuck in control.
Before she could even greet them, Eleanor took the word:
"Blair Cornelia Waldorf-"
"Bass." Chuck interrupted uncharacteristically meekly, slightly leaning against the bannister.
"Whatever, Charles." Eleanor shot him a mild glare, apparently having gotten annoyed with his presence by now. Who knew how long he had been here already? Turning back to her daughter, her glare became a little more scolding. "We have been worried sick about you! All of us! Where the hell have you been?"
Blair swallowed. Well, wasn't this going great already?
"I believe I am a woman of age and therefore no longer need to inform everyone about my whereabouts at all times so there really was no need to worry about me." She replied very calmly, already bracing herself for the backlash.
Her mother nearly gasped, then basically spat at her:
"So you think it's normal to just go wherever you please on your wedding night? Then please do elaborate what you thought to be more important than being in the company of your newly-wed husband?"
Before she could think of a response, Chuck decided it was his turn to speak, again in a surprisingly soft tone:
"She's been at the only place where we haven't searched for her." He noted soberly. "Eleanor, would you mind giving me and my wife some privacy?"
Me and my wife. Blair struggled not to shiver.
After initial hesitation, Eleanor gave in and retreated to the next room.
Silence filled the foyer as Chuck studied her with an unreadable expression, then slowly stepped toward her.
In response, she visibly tensed. He was far too calm for her liking. It was unnerving.
"Is this how our marriage is going to be now, Blair? I say something you don't like and you immediately run off to Humphrey to hide out in his Brooklyn pigsty?" His tone remained very even but a note of bitterness was threateningly making its presence known as he motioned to the jacket still dangling from her crossed arms.
Blair rolled her eyes, then fixed them on his.
"Actually, Chuck, I don't think our marriage is going to be anything at all. I don't think we should stay married to each other." She informed him boldly, tossing the jacket onto the nearest chair.
Chuck's brows knit in irritation, a fierce sparkle flashing in his eyes.
"Excuse me? I must have misheard." He spat. "You got what you wanted, Blair. You finally got your happily ever after with me, just like you've always wanted. And now that you have it, it suddenly lost its meaning or what are you trying to tell me there?"
"What I'm trying to say is that I think we rushed into this." Defensively, her voice turned into a hiss.
"Because I made one stupid joke too much for your liking?" He scoffed. "You're being ridiculous."
"No, you are right now." She corrected him fiercely. "If you were being honest for one second, you would realize that we probably have completely different visions and ideas of being married to one another and-"
She found herself aggressively being cut off:
"No, Blair, this is not what this is about." Chuck was shaking his head nearly frantically. "This is about you and Humphrey, just admit it."
"This is not about me and Humphrey." Blair groaned. "This is about you and me and no one else. Who even says there is anything between me and Dan? That's not our topic right now."
"Then I shall make it our topic." He yelled in reply but slightly lowered his voice again as he carried on speaking and doing just that. "Considering you spent the night with him, I believe you two are very much our topic as well. What did you do all night, huh? Talk about your problems and braid each other's hair? No, surely not." His cold stare bore into her doe eyes, seemingly wanting to pierce into her soul.
"I bet you let him fuck you. You look like you did." He appeared to be stating this matter-of-factly but it wasn't hard to tell that on the inside, he was boiling with rage.
How she was able to keep staring back at him would remain a mystery to her forever but she did, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of witnessing weakness on her side.
"So what if I did?" She mocked him innocently, even though she was fully aware of how dangerous of a tactic she was pursuing. "Once again, we get to witness that Chuck Bass believes the whole world revolves around sex. It's all you care about and it's what keeps it all together for you." She spat in disgust, not even flinching as he stepped closer, his teeth gritted even as he spoke:
"Blair, you smell like cheap liquor, cheap cologne and sweat. I suppose they might not yet have mirrors in Brooklyn but to call your look 'dishevelled' would be the understatement of the century." The more closely he got to study her, the harder it became for him to contain his rage, once again ready to yell. "It's not hard to jump to conclusions here so just give me a simple yes or no to a very simple yes or no question: Did you fuck Humphrey on our wedding night?"
In all honesty, cross her heart and hope to die, she wasn't trying to lie to him for the sake of having him fooled. She simply wanted to spare him the painful truth.
"Chuck, I am not even going to acknowlegde your ridiculous assumptions-"
"Perhaps you should have married Humphrey instead." He scoffed bitterly, then retreated to his usual yells again, luckily for her taking a step back. "Did you fuck him, yes or no?" Apparently, he didn't want it any other way.
"Yes, I did, alright?" The frantic scream escaped her before she was even fully aware of what she was admitting nor of what she was about to be getting herself into. "I fucked him and I loved every second of it. I basically begged for it. There, are you happy with yourself now? Was that what you wanted to hear? You're right, the whole world revolves around sex. And you know what? You might have been right about whom I really should have married as well. Perhaps I should have. At least Dan loved me for who I am, not who he'd like to turn me into."
Presumably, this would have been the right time to run as fast as you could and make a quick escape. But she didn't.
Chuck remained frozen for a millisecond before practically lunging himself at her. Blair wouldn't have been surprised had he hit her right there and then.
Frankly, she might not even have been able to be mad at him in hindsight, keeping in mind how provocative she had been and that, matter of fact, she had wronged him horribly. But he didn't instantly hit her. Instead, he grabbed her by her wrists and roughly jerked her toward him.
"So this is who you really are, yeah? Blair Waldorf, Brooklyn's filthiest whore?" He screamed straight into her face, looking as if he was on the brink of insanity. "You're right. I can't love you for that."
His grip on her left wrist loosened, his palm seemingly twitching, itching to finally give her what he thought she deserved. Her eyes had ostensibly widened in fear but she was still capable of speaking, miraculously keeping her voice as void of emotion as possible in spite of her state:
"Go ahead, I dare you. Prove to me that I was right all along."
Lifting his hand to obey, he dropped it again after a brief moment of suspense.
"Charles, I think it's best if you leave now." Eleanor had entered the room unbeknownst to them after catching him call her daughter Brooklyn's filthiest whore for reasons she had happened to have overheard as she had been on the phone in a room even further away than the one she had previously entered until now.
Quietly, he nodded, dropping Blair's other wrist in the process. "I wholeheartedly agree, Eleanor. I'm going to go on our honeymoon now, without your daughter. Should she come to her senses, she shall feel free to call me and join me at any time she pleases. Otherwise, we'll have to have a serious conversation a month from now." Although he had pretended to be addressing her mother, his eyes had never left Blair's. In fact, they didn't until he had fully stepped past her and made his way to the elevator.
As soon as he had left, her tough façade began to crumble right in front of her mother's very eyes.
Having skipped the natural, healthy reaction earlier, she now found herself severely shaking, on the verge of tearing up.
What had she been thinking to throw the truth in his face like that?
Sure, he asked for it but that, that was extremely harsh. Now there was at least no more denying that she was the world's most horrible person.
During her thought process, Eleanor helplessly cleared her throat.
"Blair, dear, are you alright?" She asked, struggling to hide her concern although she had originally intended to still sound bitter upon returning to the room.
"Yeah," she numbly brushed her off, slowly picking up the jacket she had tossed onto a chair earlier in order to give herself something to do, "I'm just a little cold, I guess." Shrugging lightly, she draped it across her shoulders. "Maybe I should get some more sleep." She then decided, stepping past her mother and already making her way upstairs before the elder Waldorf could protest.
Sighing heavily, Eleanor observed her climb the stairs:
"Don't you think you might still want to tell me where you were? Or why you were there perhaps?"
"Well, I'm Brooklyn's filthiest whore in case you haven't heard," she replied soberly, "so I suppose I must have spent the night on the streets of Williamsburg or some equally disturbing neighbourhood."
Having that said, she made her way to her room, locking the door as soon as she had arrived. Her first instinct was to cry as she was lying there on her bed and she did for a while but the tears soon ebbed away.
Chuck was right. Being with him used to be all she ever wanted. But possibly losing him now didn't hurt one bit.
Their conversation had hurt, however.
If only she could have made him understand that this wasn't the right time for them instead of exposing her infidelity in the most awful way imaginable other than letting him catch her in the act.
Yet he still seemed to be set on staying married to her. It was unbelievably grotesque.
Nothing, absolutely nothing made sense anymore and all she really wanted for now was for her mind to shut up and leave her be.
That day, no one was granted access other than Dorota and even she would not be let in on last night's happenings just yet. Angelic as she was, she didn't mind too much. Instead, she preferred to focus on Blair's plans for how things were supposed to go on from here – she had none.
Thus she spent the following weeks locked away from the outside world, mostly staying in bed as if she had caught a mysterious disease that may or may not be infectious.
More than weekly, she was blessed with sick bed visits by no other than Serena van der Woodsen who was set on making her leave these four walls and enjoy her life again – rather unsuccessfully so.
Once they had reached week three of Blair's sickening lethargy, she finally seemed to have had it with her but only told her so very gently.
"Oh come on, B. Just one little trip to a café at least. I know, I know, it's that time of the month now so you'd usually have an excuse for being grumpy and wanting to stay inside and in bed all day but I'm not having it. You've spent the past two weeks here, you have no more excuses. In fact, going outside might actually do your weakened system some good."
The brunette had stopped paying attention to her argumentation after Serena had pointed out that it was 'that time of the month'. What time of the month please? She wasn't lying here with cramps and bleeding out like a slaughtered pig as far as she was informed. That girl must have lost her mind.
"Excuse me but since when do you believe to be so up to date with my cycle?" She rolled her eyes in annoyance. At least get your facts straight, Serena.
"Haven't I always been?" Serena joked, then simply shrugged. "Since you're on birth control I suppose? You're always one week ahead of me, I know that for a fact."
Blair's brows knit in confusion. Could she be right? She had to be considering she had very vivid memories of the blonde bothering her about borrowing tampons when she had always just used all of hers up.
But hadn't she… Wait, when exactly was the last time?
No, hold on – far more importantly: when exactly was the last time she had bothered to take birth control?
She couldn't recall taking a single pill since she had started her self-prescribed house arrest. Thinking back, she couldn't even recall taking one on her wedding day.
Great.
Just fucking wonderful.
Okay, no need to panic, though. How late was she, really? A day, maybe two? No need for worries whatsoever. Perhaps her cycle was just mildly fucked up due to her suddenly skipping the pill. That didn't have to mean she was in deep shit. But peeing on a stick now just to be safe and regain her peace of mind wouldn't hurt either.
First, she needed to get Serena out of here.
"Alright, fine, you got me." She sighed dramatically. "Can you please just let me revel in my misery for one more day, S? We'll go out tomorrow, I promise. You're allowed to drag me out of bed if I refuse then."
Now that was an offer Serena couldn't refuse.
As soon as she made her exit, Blair sat up straight and rang her infamous bell.
"Dorota," she already yelled, "I need you to get me something. Urgently."
An hour later, the faithful maid had supplied her with what she had asked for and was now pacing in front of the bathroom door.
"Miss Blair, you sure you don't need help?"
"No, thank you, Dorota, I'm good. This isn't the first time I'm doing this." Blair reminded her tensely, nervously chewing on her lip as she sat on the toilet lid and waited it out. Why did those tests have to take so long? She thought this to be impeccably rude.
But then, finally. The wait was over. Wide-eyed from curiosity and suspense, she practically gulped at the small display. There it was. Clarity. Of sorts at least.
Stepping out of the bathroom again, she shot Dorota a meaningful look.
"Dorota, I think you'll have to arrange an appointment for me." She sighed quietly, showing her the two pink lines the test had provided her with.
"Oh, Miss Blair." She gasped in response, shaking her head. "Don't you think we should call Mister Chuck? Tell him to come back?"
"Definitely not." She nearly whimpered. "Not at all costs."
Dorota's brows knit in confusion. "But don't you think he should know if-"
"No, he shouldn't." Blair dissented firmly. "Because I'm pretty sure it might not be his and therefore none of his business."
Now Dorota knew nothing anymore. She nearly felt sorry for the poor thing and therefore decided to meekly confess her wrongdoings to yet another person – this time a confidant.
"Well, you see," she swallowed nervously, preparing herself to be judged, "I spent my wedding night in Brooklyn. With Dan. Not exactly chastely."
The initial confusion was immediately replaced by utter and earnest shock. "You and Mister Dan-?" She only managed to stutter.
"Yes, me and Mister Dan." Blair rolled her eyes. "Back on track. Please just arrange that appointment for me, alright? I mean, maybe this is false. It probably has to be. I just need to know before I start having sleepless nights over this."
Yet she still managed to have sleepless nights over this anyway, she recalled, shaking her head. Up until now, she found it hard to believe this had actually happened five years ago when it still felt like only yesterday to her.
Whatever. Back to focusing on her mission. Although by now, her sentimental side kind of wanted her to hold on to this jacket a little longer.
No, she had had it long enough.
Taking it off again, she attempted to smooth the fabric one last time, then left the room. Maybe she'd keep it as punishment if Humphrey actually was spoiling their daughter's little mind with Fitzgerald.