AN: Here is where I put the corny/nerdy/blasphemous joke about me choosing a time near Easter for my quasi-comeback... only I'll do it in shorthand so; Resurrection, Rising, Jesus, Helium, Me.
[[No really, life etc as always gets in the way - you guys know the drill. Thank you so much for still supporting and not giving up on me. Also, since it's been a while and all - adjust the margins nice and tight y'all ]]
The summer of Don Draper is such a success (maybe not where women are concerned but certainly where bros before hos is) that you and Nate make a tradition of a spring break trip every year before you leave New York for good. Serena thinks it is cute, Chuck has significantly more colourful (shade: green) descriptors and Blair breezily refers to it as 'getting your groove back'.
You have yet to make it to Jamaica.
You take turns choosing the destination and this year Nate - after calling you stuffy for choosing Napa Valley the year before - has insisted on Philly, which is hosting some sporting event that year that you know next to nothing of. But... the city is more lively for it so you withhold most of your comments. You're there for just inside a week total and on the 3rd night you're both too wiped to venture further than the pub that is adjoined to the hotel. Keeping in the theme of superficial solidarity, there is some sort of triva/game competition in the style of Pyramid and ...wow all these teams suck. Nate openly takes a drag on a blunt, sunglasses on his tousled hair since 5pm until this very moment but he manages to look more together than you in your plain white tee, glasses, 8 o clock shadow and dark, dirty denim.
"Dude." Nate exclaims after one particularly long exhale, "these guys suck! We could easily win this!"
You remind Nate that you a) know nothing of the teams in question and that b) the last thing they should be giving to an upper-east-sider is the latest apple tablet.
He looks sideways at you and rolls his eyes before letting you have it, "Thirdly, the questions aren't sports related. Fourthly, Dan Humphrey, you live in a two level penthouse suite in Manhattan... at this point you're just shy of doing the poor little rich boy thing and quite frankly ...it's a little embarrassing. "
You grab at an imaginary stab to the chest, and laugh through a pained expression, this is the side of Nate that so few people get to see. He's too busy letting them underrate everything other than his looks and family background. You dryly tell him that you can ignore the massive chip on your shoulder to feed his problematic competitive streak if only for one night and he grins a grin so wide his eyes almost disappear.
\\\\
ok...so...you're winning?
You're actually winning.
Against, a married couple, a pair of twins and newly engaged-that-night-on-the-jumbotron Sam and Chris. You're not drunk enough to avoid overthinking the entire scenario to death and Nate is so stoned, you don't know if he's even thinking at all or better yet how he's even managing to be the other half of the unbeatable duo that you've morphed into. He's flirting with one of the twins (of course he is) undeterred by the fact that she's a lesbian, something that seems to be minor details to her as well and flipping the card over and over in his hand wasting time on purpose. Finally he leans over take a sip of his cider and clears his throat before laying his laughing eyes on you,
"Vanessa's fall French fling, Blair's disdain for you and my parents' marriage." The comment about Blair throws you for a very confused loop and you see him panic that he may have overestimated this time around and you manage to respond (in a question) 'Things that are fake'
The married couple is surprisingly the sourest of grapes, Sam and Chris who really do not seem at all invested in the game cheer and the twins both high five Nate and you look blankly at the iPad that the bartender has just placed in your hand.
Huh?
\\\\
Your dinner is on the house, your drink of choice is coffee … ok vodka and coffee which you never really understood as a thing until recently and Nate is trying to rally you to go back with the twins to their floor. You decline on account of incest and all that jazz but he tells you to get your mind out the gutter before trailing after them. When you return to the room a few hours later, there's a loud voicemail from Nate, telling you that you're missing a hell of a floor party up on 50 and your cheeks go a little red when you think about the fact that well... yeah... you kind of assumed he was off in pursuit of yet another threesome.
So you place the unopened iPad box on Nate's desk and place your tortoiseshell glasses down on your own before heading to the elevator. The frames are relatively new but still give you somewhat of a headache but everyone's got nothing but compliments for your attempt at finally ditching the contacts.
Well almost everyone, Blair levels you with a dead gaze the first time she sees them; "those make you look more homoerotic than usual by the way."
"What I was going for..." is all you deadpan back without looking up from your phone.
The sound starts to boom from the 48th floor and you're surprised that this riot masquerading as a party hasn't been broken up yet. But then you take a closer look at the crowd, They all seem to be athletes of some kind, the twins from earlier (who turn out to be professional cheerleaders) call your name at the same time, the straighter of the two giving you a lingering look.
Nate is chilling in a room that seems to be filled with graduate studying lacrosse players hooting over glasses of whiskey. He never fails to put you into situations that gift you with tons of opportunity for character study. He looks ready to call you in but with his arm mid air, he takes a quick glance at the crowd and hops off the stool he's sitting on instead.
"You made it!" he throws an arm around your neck and presses his almost empty glass briefly to your sternum in some sort of cheers adjacent motion.
\\\\
The next two hours are just good old fashioned fun and you are glad you pulled your head out of your own ass to join in. Nate drags you out on to the balcony of one of the empty rooms, it's tenant no doubt down the hall, to share his joint. It's cold, but the heat from inside the room, and the liquor buzzing through your system add some sort of counter balance. Your hands though - still remain stuffed in your pockets when they're not being used.
Nate mentions some sort of event he has to escort Serena to since Mark (her latest suitor) is out of town and this triggers your memory, you ask him about the earlier comment about Blair.
He smirks at you then, "was wondering when this was going to come up..."
You want to pummel the smirk off his face but ultimately go with dismissal, telling him that just because you and Blair have settled into a happy truce and take a lot of the same classes at NYU does not mean that you're best friends or that she even likes you.
Nate blows smoke into your face then, "It is just as hilarious to me that you say that - almost to keep yourself in check - as it is that Blair openly gives you such a hard time when everyone knows that's her TRADEMARK for the people she cares about. I guess she figures people will think you're the exception to the rule... and they probably do."
You shake your head a few times, tell him no, snatch the joint and stare out at the city lights.
"What is the hardest part of this to believe dude?" the calm in his voice only serves to further ruffle your feathers.
You don't answer, and he sighs, "You're more than enough Dan... you need to remind yourself that from time to time."
The next drag you take hits you like a ton of bricks, and Nate's already glassy eyes see your slight sway before he grabs your collar and pulls you back against the wall next to him. "Move away from that balcony, I don't want to have to tell everyone I let you fall off 50 stories from smoking my strong batch."
You stumble once more, half onto him, half into the wall and he flicks what's left of the joint over the rail and takes one of your arms over his shoulder, "Room?"
"Room." You mumble glumly and somewhat embarrassed.
As you walk down the hall he says, "Hey, She has no idea that I've said anything to you or that I even notice... you can just as easily do nothing with this information yunno?"
You reach out and tap the button and nod, he's right of course, before you realise it your next words come charging out of you 'wait... did you tell me so I would do something with the information?'
He considers this, you step on to the elevator and he hits your floor before releasing a tired breath, "Um... no... honestly." a frown falls on his face and you nudge lightly, "I uh... wasn't really planning to say anything to either of you because I couldn't stand the thought of losing you to each other..."
His words take weight and you shock him (not to mention yourself) by reaching out and hitting the emergency stop button. A grimace is briefly present on your face when the elevator car squeals against the sudden strain. His cheeks go a deep red and he gasps at the abruptness of your action and the intensity of your glare, you don't know if you're mad, horrified, scared or... or...turned on. Your arm falls from his shoulder and you brace against the ornamental railing trying to gather your wits – while not touching him - when he stands in front of you.
"Jesus...I'm sorry Dan..."
You ask him if he's apologizing for saying something or wanting to say nothing, he looks at your mouth a few times and you wonder to yourself,what the fuck is in this weed?
"For everything." he says this forlornly and puts his hand on your shoulder just shy of your neck. Nate Archibald, wears sorrow like a custom made Italian suit... he looks prettiest sometimes when he stares at his feet, and the sound of his heartbreak fills your ears.
This is what you will later blame for your poorly thought out decision to lean in and press a soft yet heavy kiss on his lips. He jumps at first, pulls back a little bit to take in your face, reading you... he seems at war in those ever so long 3 seconds.
"Dan...we're not sober..." he breaths this over your mouth and licks his lips, you nod not able to talk.
"Have you ever done anything like this?" You think about making a joke as to whether he means making out in an elevator or kissing another guy but just shake your head no.
"Me neither, shit." he steps back, all the way from you and roughly runs his hands over the back of his head where the hair is still very low and then a beat passes, "Fuck it."
He grabs your face and kisses you in earnest, his skill level speaks of someone who has done this for a long time and you wonder how old he was when he had his first kiss. It is an intriguing difference for you to feel a firm body against your own, no breasts softly breaking on the shores of your chest. Then there's the fact that you line up almost perfectly, his belt buckle presses against your lower abdomen, such an innocuous thing somehow is so arousing in it's novelty.
He leans back, his blue eyes almost gone behind his dilated pupils and makes an adorable face, "Well I get why girls always complain about stubble now."
Your head spins a little as you laugh and you lift a finger and trace the blooming redness around his swollen lips. He takes a step towards you and takes just three fingers and nudges you back against the wall, your lids get heavy and he surprises you by leaning in and hitting the stop button.
His voice rumbles low in your ear, as the elevator hums back to life, "we probably should get back to our suite..."
And now...well you're panicked.
Did you start this? Yes.
...
But do you know what you're doing? Fuck no...
where is this leading? You have no idea...
..
What have you done?
Nate stands so close to you the rest of the slow ride down you can feel him breathe, when the door opens he strolls forward but you remain frozen. His hand shoots out and stops the door at the last second and he sticks a finger in your belt loop before pulling you out.
"Hey." He slaps your cheek lightly, "Do NOT do that thing where you overthink this to death."
Your room is directly adjacent to the elevator, something you were not pleased about early yesterday morning when drunken party-goers came bursting through at four in the morning. You're in front the door now, thankful instead of peeved, and he takes his key and waves it in front the sensor then pushes you in ahead of him. You awkwardly plant yourself in the center of the room observing as he moves around you, washes his hands, grabs two glasses from the counter in the kitchenette and two bottles of water from the fridge. His last act before calmly saying your name is to crack the window in the living area, you stand there, fidgeting mutely deciding to instead take in your room. For all his comments of how stuffy the trip to Napa was, he has left very few of his comforts behind in NY, the suite you're staying in is far from modest.
"What's freaking you out dude? Other than the weed – sorry about that by the way – Chuck got this for me, it may have like LSD or something in it." He rubs the bridge of his nose at the last part of this statement, as if realizing how bad of an idea it was to smoke that stuff tonight.
You cautiously sit in the arm chair opposite him, and clench and un-clench your hands, your mouth feels dry and your head still feels like bees have taken up residence in your ear canals. You ask him, what he thinks this means if neither of you have done anything like this before...
The unspoken words thunder in the room.
Are we gay?
Inside your head you note that you're not scared because you think anything is wrong with being gay, you have lots of friends; guys and girls that are homosexuals but … what really scares you is the notion that you would have possibly managed to not know this HUGE thing about yourself all these years. Nate is quiet for a long time, he cracks one of the bottles and pours some in a glass, he almost seems to be doing things in the name of keeping his hands busy but you say nothing.
"You ever want to kiss another guy?"
The question, is so simple, so obvious, how did you not ask yourself this? You in that moment know for certain you are tripping balls and Nate is just handling it better since he's more experienced with recreational drug use. You just wasted a solid 20 minutes in a silly panic spiral.
Your sheepish answer is … No. no you haven't.
"Ever find another guy like...idunno intensely sexy or something?"
Nope not that either.
"Never got aroused at the gym?" He asks this last one with a smarmy grin, sensing a pattern.
You tell him you've never even looked at another guy at the gym.
He sips some water and says calmly, "Me neither."
You say, maybe it's the weed, that Chuck probably purposefully put whatever in there to laugh at the outcome.
"I wouldn't put it past him, two things though." You nod signalling him to continue, "ONE - I'm not telling Chuck shit... and TWO?"
You wait.
He takes a long, slow even breath and bites the inside corner of his lip, considering whether to say his next words out loud, "If it is just the weed... then how do we explain the fact that we just see each other differently than any other guy we know...when we're sober."
You sit, with your mouth hanging ever so slightly open, dumbly.
"Dan... we're got a very... unique relationship. You're a real friend I'd take a bullet for, I know we both admit how much we envy each other...but isn't there are part of that is based on...idunno... really strong adoration? And while I'm just letting it all hang out... I know how we look at eachother... It's not constant, or the same way we look at women, but we do notice each other."
Your entire face, all the way down to your neck gets hot, you can only imagine the flush that floods your face. Nate's eyes sweep over you, and his voice gets softer, soothing.
"Maybe... this isn't about gender."
He gets up and walks over to the couch, having decided he is done with this conversation for now and flips the tv on casually. You turn and watch him get comfortable, one leg is on the couch but not stretched out and he reclines against the corner of the arm his other foot on the the floor. After a few minutes of looking at the bluish purple hues bathe his features you reach for your bottle take a long cold pull and then walk over to him.
At first he barely spares you a glance, his eyes glued to some scantily clad women walking down a runway, but after a double take he senses a shift in your energy and he waits. You briefly think you must look really stoned if he's giving you such a wide berth so you take another sip and sit down leaving no space between the two of you.
Maybe you say, and he repeats the word softly. "Maybe."
You lean over and he turns his chin to you at the last moment, this kiss is tentative, short, when you pull apart he whispers, "It's not the weed."
You tell him, you don't think it is either.
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Some 35 hrs later, Nate gets a call from Blair, there is some emergency and she refuses to say just what over the phone. All she will say is that the two of you need to get in whatever 'hideous rental he's let you choose and come back to Manhattan at once.' Currently you're out to dinner and were planning to go to some party that the twins got you into but now that doesn't look very likely. Nate seems quite content to drag his feet while you still have a healthy fear of Blair Waldorf.
He says he's learned over the years how to read the urgency in her tone and so long as this isn't Georgina Sparks alert or Serena is overdosing again shrill he'll get there when he gets there. Elsewhere you are flooding with anxiety, no real conversation has been had after the other night and nothing really happened after the kiss on the couch. All the years of weed have made Nate obnoxiously chilled out about everything you note, this new development is no exception.
"Let's finish dinner and at least hit up the event not to be rude and if we duck out early then I say it's a decent compromise"
You shrug in agreement and start fishing for your glasses case in your satchel. There's a television on the other side of the room you want to see clearly and Nate stares at you openly when your glasses slide into place. When you go to take them off he says calmly with no invitation for debate, "Leave them."
You lick your lips nervously and stammer a self-deprecating joke about Blair being horrified if she knew he liked your frames.
"Dude, the only reason B hates your frames is because she's bothered by how hot you look in them, and that she even notices."
The waiter arrives then with your main course, Nate begins to eat casually and you feebly attempt to do the same, each bite feeling like hot coals. This goes on for a scant five minute interlude until you can't take it anymore and slide your glasses atop your head and rub your eyes. You say his name, his full name, and he looks up at you mid bite.
What now, is all you ask.
He takes two beats, his hand frozen before realization washes over his face and he visibly relaxes, "Well uh... what do you want?"
You are unprepared for this question, both because you didn't really spend much time reflecting on that and also because you are so seldom asked about your feelings or preferences these days.
You stutter out a series of fumbling syllables, and he puts his fork down and wipes his mouth with his napkin.
"How about this... do you want things to take some giant shift between us?" You shake your head no, "You don't want to go on dates or anything right?"
Another nod signalling the negative.
"Hmmm... well then I think it's just good that we had the conversation, we know where we stand with each other and we just do whatever feels right to us. You're my best friend dude, I'm not looking to mess that up."
Your shoulders sag and your chest deflates, the relief you feel in this moment is all powerful and you don't think you need to articulate anything else. Nate's hand reaches across for yours to do your hand-slap cum hand-shake and his thumb grazing over your knuckle feels like a promise you didn't know you needed.
"Eat you meal dude, or I'm gonna put my fork in the mix." He winks at you and continues on with his meal after checking his watch briefly.
It will be weeks and weeks before anything transgresses between the two of you again.
Sugar and Spice.
When you lived in New York, Blair would always leave a trail of thick aroma behind her. You wanted to hate it, and often you were quite close to successful. Things like cinnamon, frosting, roses, amber and violet.
Just... too strong. Intrusive.
(It's perfect for her you would often lament.)
Here and now, how she smells is testament to how much she has changed, she has taken to wearing this handmade peach lotion courtesy of Raven. She often applies tea tree oil over her limbs as the mosquitoes have taken a preference to her usually warm temperature.
Your blood is too hot for them.
Peaches and Clean...that's the smell that reaches you when she spins on her heels and walks swiftly away from the scene you and Nate have greeted her with. You struggle to keep your heart rate down and Nate quickly feels you start to warm up and surprises you with a short peck, before starting to sit you up on the other side of the tub.
He sticks the plug in and starts running the cold water wordlessly.
You still feel very weak so you close your eyes, waiting, though you're not sure just for what. Blair returns shortly, she has an apron on which you quickly realize is because it is acting as a pseudo sack. Her hand reaches in and starts to pull out different sized containers that contain frozen water, she shoves one in Nate's face. He sighs, and places them one by one in the rising water, sneaking a wary glance at you which takes you back to Manhattan immediately. If you weren't so tired, the nostalgia would be delightful on some level you're sure.
The last thing to emerge from behind the apron is a tub of ice cream and a spoon ... Blair hops up onto the vanity opposite the both of you before removing the lid. Nobody says anything about the fact that this is something that she typically does only when she is sad or aroused, but you are sure all present are thinking it.
She stares at the two of you evenly, the spoon digging into the chocolate depths and says only one word. "Talk."