When Dan finds Blair, she is leisurely leaning against the marble countertops, oblivious to the world. Her cheeks flushed pink and her silk robe, half-undone, reminds him of the collection of boudoir photos she gifted him last Valentine's, even though all she is doing is putting a pod on the coffee machine.
Blair has always pretended her life was a movie. It is certainly ironic she looks most like a heroine when she is not pretending to be one.
Dan is just following the neckline of her robe, dipping so low it shows how far her blush goes, when the coffee machine finishes its job. The soft beep sounds like an alarm, and Dan feels like a kid caught playing with something they shouldn't; his eyes blown wide, directed at Blair's face.
She doesn't notice him. Or, if she does, she does an outstanding job of pretending otherwise. Blair moves graciously to pick up her mug and while she blows on the hot beverage, Dan thinks maybe she got so good at pretending that sometimes she doesn't know when to stop.
When she finally turns to him, is with one eyebrow raised; a wordless question. Dan is speechless.
"I —," he starts, doubts himself. "I was going to make breakfast," he decides on, moving closer, his pouting lips asking for a kiss.
"That's exactly why I did it first," Blair says. The only part of her touching him is her middle finger, right on his lips, keeping him away. "I'm not really in the mood for poison." She takes a sip of her coffee, tilts her head. "I prefer to take my betrayals after lunch, when possible."
Dan sighs, one of his hands going to the kitchen island for support. "She's my sister."
"And I'm your wife. But it's good to know which one has more weight to you."
"I'm not taking sides," Dan says and immediately knows it was the wrong thing to say. Before Blair can refute, he adds, "I'm not taking her side. All I want is a truce between the two of you. Is that too much to ask?"
"Yes." She puts the mug down, looks at him, unamused. "She's trying to destroy my company, Dan."
"It's your mother's company," he says, tentatively putting his arms around her tiny waist. She doesn't push him away, so he pushes her. "And I'm not saying this because she's my sister, but Jenny has some good ideas."
"See," she puts both hands on his chest, trying to keep her distance. "You are on her side."
"I'm not," he says, stern. "I'm always on your side, you know that. Even when you're wrong."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she says in a saccharine smile, fakeness pouring out of her mouth.
Dan smiles lazily, thoroughly amused by her impression of a petulant child. He touches her nose with his, his eyes half-closed and him half-dreaming.
"All I'm asking is for you to be civil. Just for today," he cups her jaw, kisses the side of her lips. "That's it."
Blair laughs throatily; he's so earnest and hopeful it's hard not to make fun of him. "If you think I'm going to that sorry excuse of a party —"
"It's the first party Jenny is having with her girlfriend present," he cuts her, hands on her hips, firm. "Besides, she came here for Thanksgiving and behaved accordingly."
Blair rolls her eyes as Dan's right leg move between hers, pressing. He then leans down, gives her neck a kiss.
"I'm sure you can repay the courtesy," he kisses her neck again, lower this time, just where it meets her shoulder.
"You know I can see right through you and your pathetic attempt to persuade me with sex, right?"
"I do," another kiss, this time right on her throat. "Is it working?" and another one, on top of her left breast.
"I haven't decided it yet." Blair, hands full with his curls, pulls him to look at her. "Anyway, I can't just let Jenny get away with undermining me in front of the board of directors. It doesn't matter how great you think her ideas are, she has to pass them through me first."
"Would you have listened to her if she did?" he asks, his finger tracing a line between the valley of her breasts, the faintest of touches.
"I guess we will never know now."
"For me?" Dan looks at her, eyes bright and shining, the smallest hint of a pout as a companion. "It will be only for a couple of hours."
In her mind, Blair had agreed with the entire ordeal already, had done it the night prior, when Dan brought up the party in the first place. Still, she has an image to maintain, so she takes a deep breath, makes a show of thinking about it.
"Come on," he says, his fingers on the knot of her robe, pulling it open. "I promise I'll make it worth your while."
"Well," she says, "Show what you have in mind and I'll make mine."
Dan smirks and lifts Blair up easily, eliciting a surprised yelp from her as her bare thighs meet the cold marble. To him, Blair has never been a heroine; she was always more akin to a religious icon, a deity. He can't help but get on his knees and worship her.
When his lips touch hers, Blair has to hold on to the counter with such force her knuckles go white; Dan tastes honey.