Can I just say what a crazy finale that was? While it broke my heart to watch Chuck and Blair say goodbye to each other, I honestly couldn't help but feel a little gypped off by the lack of interaction between Dan and Blair. So in response, I dedicate this entire chapter to solely D & B! Hope you guys enjoy it!
"Don't forget my garment bags! Oh, and my striped pin cushions!"
Dan let out a weary sigh. "For the last time, they're all packed."
She giggled on the other side of the phone. "I so can't wait for you to visit tomorrow. Mom's been driving me crazy."
A lazy smirk grazed his lips. "Well, I wish I could alleviate some of the crazy, but I'm afraid it's been following me a lot lately as well."
"Yes, and it's called Blair Waldorf. I still can't get over how your friends with her."
"Hey, she's been through a lot," Dan argued uncomfortably.
"And I haven't? Have you forgotten that she banned me from the city?" It was evident that the sugary sweetness in her voice was now replaced with bitterness.
"You know how I feel, Jenny," Dan said despairingly. "Can't we have at least one decent phone conversation that doesn't end up with us arguing about her?"
He knew that the stars themselves would align differently the moment something other than repulsion sparked between him and Blair. Serena, Nate, Rufus—not one of them understood how he could've possibly befriended someone like Blair, a girl who had proven in many occasions just exactly how far she would go to get what she wanted, the feelings of others be damned.
But Jenny was his sister. When their parents got a divorce, Dan was grateful that she remained a constant reminder in his life telling him that he still had some semblance of normalcy—of a real, genuine family. And though it was difficult to imagine his sister as anything but the sweet, bubbly teenager he had always known and loved, Dan learned to accept this new side to her. Despite her flaws and the long list of mistakes she left in her wake, he still held her close to his heart. And in return, he expected Jenny to support him just like he supported her in the past.
Dan pressed his ear closer to his phone, forced to listen to the dead silence on the other side of it.
He inhaled sharply. "So that's it? You're giving me the silent treatment now?"
He was about to slam the phone down, when he heard her voice speak up. "No…Dan. Go on Gossip Girl right now."
"Why?"
"I need a drink," Blair muttered the moment he answered the door. She fled past him and forcefully made her way inside his loft, hoping to avoid the concern that automatically appeared in his eyes.
"Blair, I got the Gossip Girl blast…"
"—As fascinating as that is, Humphrey, I still don't have a gin martini in my hand." Without asking, she rummaged through his kitchen cabinet and searched vehemently for a decent bottle of liquor.
"There's beer in the fridge," Dan offered nervously.
"Oh my God, you're like a walking Brooklyn stereotype!" She screamed in exasperation. Wincing at the sharp sound of his kitchen cabinet being slammed shut, Dan quickly advanced towards her and held her arms in place.
"Blair, talk to me," He begged, seriousness tingeing his voice.
"Did you see the blast? The photos?" She demanded instantly.
Dan gulped, his grip slowly loosening. "I'm sorry, Blair."
She shut her eyes in anguish and turned her back to him. "So…is beer all you have?"
Dan let out a small sigh. "I might have half a bottle of Cuervo in my room. Will that do?"
"You know what I just realized?" Blair asked, her eyes half closed and her head swirling beyond control.
"What?"
"That I must've been suffering from some undiagnosed brain injury all my life," She muttered bitterly.
Dan smirked. "Care to elaborate?"
"I've spent my entire life fawning over French culture and trying to perfect my accent, when really, if you think about it, France is not all that special," She exclaimed, clutching unto her near empty mug. She narrowed her eyes at it as if it had done her wrong. "Seriously, all these writers and artists who had run off to Paris to discover themselves like Hemingway and Picasso—it's all crap. We all know they just wanted to bang some blonde, French floozie in the streets of Champs Elysees."
"Blair…"
"It's true! For the last couple of months, he told me he loved me and wanted me back!" Her lip quivered, as her gaze fell to the ground in defeat. "But really, I was just a way for him to trek down memory lane…or worse, another game to add to his collection. It's her that he wants—blonde, saintly Eva, who can never do anything wrong, who makes being a prostitute seem like the most becoming profession."
"Don't be too hard on yourself," Dan managed despite his own tipsy daze.
"And she's perfect for him," Blair continued, ignoring Dan's feeble attempt at empathy. "She lets him lie to himself about who he really is. And he's doing just that by once again going under the guise of 'Henry Prince' and wearing Dan Humphrey clothes—can't he at least have the decency to be more original?"
Dan's eyes darted back at the photo on his laptop screen. Even he could not miss the way Eva's hand was placed affectionately on Chuck's or the way his eyes sparkled against the dark, scruffy haze of his appearance. But what struck Dan the most was how uncharacteristically disheveled and void of his emblematically dapper and flamboyant get-up Chuck was on the photo. There he was, wearing nothing but the simplest of clothes, looking like a completely different person.
When Dan's eyes left the screen, he met Blair's waiting gaze.
"Blair, I know you're hurting, but—"
"I hope he stays in Paris this time," She blurted out resolutely. "Bass Industries doesn't need an unreliable figure, and you know what? Neither do I. I'm officially, painstakingly over Chuck Bass." With that, she downed the rest of her drink in one final, meaningful gulp.
"Blair...look, you're just drunk. We're both drunk," Dan stammered.
"I am not drunk."
He shot her a pointed look. "The fact that you've been drinking cheap tequila from a mug for the past hour should be an indication."
When she finally took in her appearance—her hair being in disarray and her charmeuse skirt suffering the toll of not one but several tequila stains—Blair gasped. "Oh God, you're right." Then, from under her eyelashes, she shot Dan an accusatory glare. "You're a h-horrible influence on me, Humphrey. Next thing I know, I'll start wearing flannel and jeans."
Dan's face instantly relaxed. He was relieved that the subject had changed to a topic he knew could very well lift her spirits. "Blair Waldorf in jeans. The horror!"
"I prefer wearing much more elaborate clothing—skirts and dresses, hats, and gloves," She said dreamily.
"You do have a taste for the elaborate," He said with a smirk. "Your dating history alone includes a Vanderbilt and an English Lord. I mean, it's one thing to wear a frilly dress but to date one is a whole different story."
"That's some interesting commentary coming from someone whose taste remains questionable at best," Blair challenged, as she haughtily arched her eyebrow.
"Oh, do enlighten me," Dan muttered sarcastically, but intrigued in spite of himself.
"Let's see. You dated a high school teacher, almost procreated with Georgina Sparks, had a brief fling with some celebrity, and then attempted a relationship with Vanessa Abrams. And now, you're just in this perpetually doomed relationship—if you could even call it that—with Serena. I may have elaborate taste in men, but at least my love life doesn't find its inspiration from a cheap soap opera plot!"
Dan stared back at her in disbelief, wondering how someone who never once willingly addressed him in high school could sum up his life with that much ease.
"Hey, at least I didn't date a guy who wears purple bowties!" He blurted out.
Blair's eyes widened. "You dated Vanessa Abrams! She wears pleather leggings!"
For a moment, they gaped at each other, affronted by what the other had just said. But as though something had clicked in their heads, the two instantaneously fell into an infectious fit of giggles.
"Touché, Waldorf. Touché," Dan said, grasping for air.
"God, we dated some really funny people, huh?" Blair mused with a goofy smile on her face.
He shot her a bemused look.
"Seriously! I'm positive everyone we know has hooked up at some point."
"Well, according to Gossip Girl, we fall under that category as well," He drawled, lazily swirling the liquid in his mug.
Blair groaned. "Oh my God. One of my minions actually had the nerve to ask me if the 'Queen B and Lonely Boy' rumors were true."
Dan rolled his eyes. "My dad's worse. He cornered me at Sunday brunch and tried to extract information from me."
"Well, what did you say?"
"I just shrugged it off and remained vague…Serena was there."
When she and Dan locked eyes in mischievous understanding, she found herself smirking with pride. "Ahh I can see I've been rubbing off on you. Bravo, Humphrey, bravo."
He let out a soft chuckle before rubbing his eyes. "You're right about Serena and I though."
Blair raised an eyebrow.
"Sometimes… I wonder if we'll be anything more again," Dan said vaguely, a shadow falling across his face.
Blair let out a miserable sigh. "Well, she's just as bad as Chuck in that respect."
Somehow, the ease with which she made that comparison incensed something in Dan. He suddenly felt like he had to defend Chuck because he knew that underneath all his faults was a heartbroken shell of a man Dan could relate to. "At least Chuck's been fighting for you," he said earnestly. "He loves you and he doesn't try to hide it."
Blair narrowed her eyes at him. "He ran away, Dan. If he loves me so much, then why is he with some French bimbo as we speak?" But before Dan could open his mouth to reply, Blair squeezed her eyes shut and told him, "Look, let's not talk about this anymore. I'm officially over him now, remember?"
"Blair…"
"Don't give me that look," She bit out icily.
"What look?"
"The look that says you can see right through me. I'm not lying to myself, Dan. I'm not a coward like him. I mean it this time when I say that I don't love him."
Dan stared fixedly at her. She was lying to herself. And there was almost a sense of desperation in the way she held unto her façade that he for all his extraneousness could not overlook. Dan realized that he could tell her off right now and accuse her of lying not only to herself but also to him…and yet he couldn't. Every part of her was hurting, and if letting her spurt out lies was the only way he could alleviate some of that pain, then that was what he was going to do.
"How drunk are you right now?" He mumbled lightly.
Blair blinked up at him, aware that he was purposely changing the subject. "Enough to mourn this empty bottle of Jose Cuervo," She joked softly, but her face remained blank.
Dan's eyes softened. "C'mon, I'll help you up. You can take my bed for the night; I'll crash on the couch." With one strong tug, Blair was on her feet, barely able to balance herself. She smiled gratefully at Dan as he placed two firm hands on her waist and guided her towards the direction of his bedroom. She patiently waited at the edge of his bed, while he stuffed his pillows and spread out his duvet for her. With a small smile briefly gracing his features, he interlaced his fingers with hers and tucked her in his bed.
"Goodnight, Blair."
He gave her a final kiss on her forehead like he always did, and then turned on his heel, only to realize that Blair's hand was still clasped around his.
"Hey, Dan?" She mumbled softly, her eyes twinkling in the darkness of his room.
"Hmm?"
In one swift motion, Blair pulled him down and crashed her lips against his. Though his heart felt like it was bursting through the confines of his shirt, Dan managed to open his mouth just a little to let her tongue graze his. His mind swirled with an endless string of thoughts and an uneasy feeling of trepidation spread across his body. For a moment, he thought he would spontaneously combust then and there, not out of lust but out of something entirely different. But before his already clouded head could process any more unwanted thoughts, she suddenly broke away from him.
"What was that for?" Dan breathed out, the hairs on the back of his neck standing erect.
"Just wanted to see if Gossip Girl was right about us," She murmured expressionlessly.
"Is…is she?" He choked, beads of sweat forming across his forehead.
Blair stared at him in silence, for a moment longer than either of them wanted. Somehow their heartbeats were in sync, both pacing rapidly as time stretched before them.
She closed her eyes in defeat and with great effort she shook her head.
"Same," Dan said truthfully. They locked eyes once more under the dimness of his room. But like a match suddenly being lit, their faces simultaneously and unexpectedly creased into sheepish grins. Relief was in the air. Their friendship was still intact.
"There has to be something wrong with us," Blair murmured, before resting her head back unto his pillow.
"Maybe it's your lack of bowties," She added in amusement.
Dan's face betrayed a smirk. "Or your lack of blonde hair."
"And perhaps if your bank account was a little more bloated…"
"And your head, a lot less engorged…" They broke out into affable laughter once more.
Dan's breathing began to steady when, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a tear rolling down her face. Though her smile was still intact and her chuckle, audible to the naked ear, Dan knew that deep down her heart was breaking. She may have been joking around, but he could tell just from the way her lip quivered that she wished it were Chuck sitting in front of her right now, tucking her into bed. Dan could no longer tell if she was crying with joy or sorrow—at some point, the defining line grew hazy. So he quietly walked away to let her grieve on her own, just as she would have wanted him to.
Back in his kitchen, he let out a weary sigh before finally making his decision. Slowly, he pulled out his laptop, and with a shaking hand and a thumping heart, he clicked on the Air France web site. There was no going back now.
"Hey."
Dan swirled around to find a very disheveled Blair Waldorf plopping down on one of his bar stools.
He smirked. "How's your head?"
"Throbbing," Blair muttered crankily.
"Coffee?"
"Do you even have to ask?"
Dan laughed while grabbing a freshly brewed pot of coffee and pouring her a generous amount.
"So are you excited to spend the weekend in Hudson?" She asked casually, though she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at the sight of his nasty backpack on the floor.
"Yeah…but, you know, it's not too late for me to reschedule with my mom. I mean, if you want me to stay—"
"Don't be ridiculous! You've been putting your visit off for weeks," Blair scolded, making a slight wave with her hand.
Dan narrowed his eyes at her in careful inspection. "So you'll be OK with me gone for the weekend?"
"Let's not forget that I've spent many a weekend back in high school deliberately avoiding you; I think I can last."
Dan let out a laugh, before edging his face close to hers and looking her straight in the eye. "So says the girl who couldn't help but steal a kiss from me last night," he murmured flirtatiously.
"Ugh. Consider that a moment of temporary insanity," Blair begged, cringing at the memory.
Grinning, Dan reached for an empty bar stool and sat next to her. "How about when we're 40 and still single we get married?"
"Well, a Brooklyn wedding does sound enticing," She murmured sarcastically.
"Seriously, if Chuck and Serena don't get their act together by then, I say we just go ahead and get hitched!"
"I can see the headline on the Post now: 'Blair Cornelia Waldorf: From Park Avenue Princess to Brooklyn Bride.'"
Dan laughed out loud. "What do you say, Waldorf? Will you make me the happiest back-up man in the world?"
"I do," Blair sighed as she dramatically thrust her left hand at his chest. "And for future reference, I only wear Harry Winston."
He caught her hand with gentle ease and interlaced his own fingers with hers. "And for future reference, you're marrying someone who doesn't have an 8-figure trust fund."
Blair pouted. "You know, I'm starting to rethink this…"
"—Too late, Waldorf! You're stuck with me. Flannel shirts included."
Blair smirked. "I guess I could live. But…thanks, Dan."
He arched his eyebrow questioningly. "For the impromptu marriage proposal or for—"
"For everything," She interjected. "I just can't believe it took us four years, a W Magazine internship, and two clueless love interests to get where we are today."
"Wouldn't have done it any other way," He said with a wistful smile.
Dan suddenly took her in his arms and nuzzled his face against her silky curls. Blair returned his fervor by planting her cheek on the crook of his neck and relaxing it there for a moment, a contented sigh escaping her lips.
"Sure you don't want me to stay?" He whispered solemnly into her ear.
"I'm sure," Blair said without so much as an ounce of doubt in her voice.
Dan smiled in understanding, as he tightened his grip on her waist.
"Now, go. You'll be late," She finally said, gently letting go of him.
Dan's throat suddenly grew tight at the loss of contact; he realized just how much he was going to miss her. It was weird. He knew that this wouldn't be the last time he'd ever get to see her, but something felt like it was ending. Like, they were finally letting go of this remote, private limbo they had set up for each other.
Blair was still holding unto his hand, but deep down, she knew she had to let him go soon.
Before she could open her mouth to break the silence, Dan closed the small gap between them and captured her lips in one final, passionate kiss.
"Still nothing?" He breathed out against her mouth.
"Nothing," Blair groaned with her eyes still shut.
He let out a sigh in feigned exasperation. "Well, you had your chance, Waldorf."
His eyes twinkling with mischief, he slowly picked up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
"Silence of the Lambs when I get back?"
"I already copied your queue," she said with a smirk. She walked over to his door and held it out for him.
Hesitantly, Dan walked out, the sad smile never leaving his face.
"Goodbye, Dan," Blair murmured, meeting his gaze one last time.
"Goodbye, Blair."