Citrus

Vanessa swings the door open and walks towards the receptionist, dragging Dan along with her like a child who desperately wants to be freed from her grasp.

"Could you direct me to the Van der Woodsen's suite?" Vanessa asks trying not to roll her eyes at the sound of that horrifically posh sounding question shooting out of her red lipstick covered mouth.

"Or to the nearest restroom before I puke," Dan says in a high-pitched squeal, half jokingly. His death grip hold on Vanessa's arm is the only thing keeping him afloat.

Vanessa ignores Dan as the receptionist with rhinestone covered glasses directs her to the elevator, "Room 1773" rolling off her tongue in a formal fashion.

Once the golden elevator door slides shut, Dan slides slowly down the wall, collapsing on the carpeted floor.

"Dan, buddy, old pal. You might want to get off the floor before…"

The door slides open. Right inside of the Van der Woodsen's suite and suddenly everyone is staring at the boy who sits nauseously on the floor of the elevator, eyes wide and face red.

.o.

"Stand up, Dan!" Vanessa hisses aggressively and Dan jolts back to reality. Hopping off the floor he allows Vanessa to ease him out of the elevator and into the suite overflowing with people.

"Ooh La La" by Goldfrapp pumps at an eardrum defying volume throughout the room as Dan looks around the apartment at all the sophisticated Upper East Siders in party mode.

Blair. Sits on a dark chocolate colored high-backed leather chair. Long tresses straight and sleek thrown back in a low ponytail. She wears a white blouse with a paisley scarf and red tights under plaid shorts. Black leather ankle boots engulf her small narrow feet. Her eyes stare off into space, a bored-to-death expression on her china doll face.

Nate. Leans against the patterned wallpaper. His hair is messy and a tad wet and it hangs in his eyes. He desperately needs a haircut. He wears a wrinkled dress shirt and his school cargos with his lacrosse sneakers. An orange tie winds loosely around his neck.

And then he spots her. Serena. Lying on top of the kitchen counter. Her long blonde hair is wavy and courses down her back, thick and voluminous. Her blue eyes are closed and her lashes fan out across her rosy cheeks. She wears a Brown sweatshirt over what appears to be a violet chiffon minidress, yellow tights, and black pumps. A purple butterfly clip holds back a few strands of her hair. Her head rests in the lap of a golden haired boy who looks a few years older than her. He strokes her hair with ease, his eyes closed as well, his head bobbing slightly to the pounding music He wears a white polo shirt with an expensive looking watch on his wrist and chocolate colored dress pants with a tan belt. Dan wonders who the lucky boy is.

He doesn't see Jenny, but he isn't too worried about her. Quite frankly he's more worried about everything else. Gosh, he sounds like such a god-awful brother, but really this was a big night for Dan and for once he couldn't be worrying about his naive little sister.

And then he finds Chuck. He stands near the French doors that lead out to the balcony. His hair is in its usual mussed fashion and he wears the same stupid scarf over a blood red suit and white dress shirt and shoes.

Man all of these people dress insanely strange, Dan thinks as he stands dumbfounded next to Vanessa.

Soon enough Chuck spots him and crooks a finger at him, ushering him to come forward, his eyes warning, telling him not to attract attention.

Dan sighs a shaky breath. Chuck. What the hell did he want him to do? It looked like Serena was already cozy with another guy. What the fuck did he need him to do?

"I'll be right back," Dan whispers to Vanessa.

She shrugs. "All right. Don't faint or anything while I'm not with you."

Dan rolls his eyes as he watches her head to the bar.

.o.

"So what's the deal Chuck? What do you want me to do?" Dan asks, a tad exhaustingly as he and Chuck stand out on the balcony. It's a cool night and the breeze whips around Dan making him feel as cold as he did just minutes before on the cab ride to the very spot he is standing now.

"Just go find Serena. Distract her. Whisk her away. Get romantic. I know you can do it, Daniel. I've seen you writing all those ridiculously angsty, tragic love poems. Or sonnets. Whatever you like to call them," Chuck says wearily as if the entire idea of the evening ahead is tiring him.

Dan merely nods, suspecting more is to come out of Chuck's mouth. It does.

"Don't be overly romantic though. Or infatuated as you tend to do. Remain aloof as if she doesn't really interest you. Serena doesn't like to be fawned over. That turns her off. She doesn't want someone to come up to her and tell her how beautiful and wonderful she is. She already knows how fantastic she is. She doesn't need to hear it a thousand times a day," Chuck goes on with a bored tone as if everyone should already be properly educated on the ways to Serena's heart.

"Mention underground, different things about yourself. I'm sure you have plenty of that. Talk about music that's not in, old books and films. Off kilter aspects of your life. Don't talk about normal things like going yachting or playing badminton. Not that you do those sorts of things which makes you completely and utterly perfect for this task."

"And what is this task?" Dan asks. I mean not that he truly minds trying to win over Serena, but he still wants to know how this has anything to do with Chuck.

"Is it really necessary for you to know?" Chuck asks, staring off into the night, his eyes flickering over the brightly lit buildings.

"Yes," Dan says quickly, hoping Chuck just fucking tells him already. He almost wants to refuse to go along with the plan if he won't tell him, but he'd really just be an idiot if he turned down the chance to talk to Serena.

I mean he really had to go along with Chuck's little arrangement. Cause really, without Chuck egging him to do so, Dan probably wouldn't have enough courage to speak with her. She was like this creature he had always dreamed and hoped he would talk to and now that he was finally going to it still seemed impossible, like it would never happen. But it was going to. It was.

"That was rhetorical," Chuck answers smugly as he graces Dan with a sad smirk and a sweeping exit, leaving Dan on the balcony, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was going to talk to Serena. Fucking. Van. Der. Woodsen.

.o.

Oh for his own sake, get the boy a scotch on the rocks.

.o.

I know these chapters are short and for that I am truly sorry, but I do hope the content is satisfying.

Thanks to all who are reading. I appreciate it immensely. And to those who review. I appreciate is even more immensely.