Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews, I really really appreciate them! This chapter was actually written one way, and then scrapped and rewritten in a totally different direction. Hope you like it! Vanessa looks like the one in the television show, only she's a little different and she doesn't like Dan. Now, here is chapter eleven as promised. Hope you all like it! Reviewing is always highly appreciated.

Chapter Eleven
"Come on baby
We get along
Please don't spoil it
Don't steer us wrong
Let's get together
And get it on
Let's get those clothes off
Before I'm gone
You talk about me like
You own me baby
That's not fair
I told you that I had somebody else
You did not care
One week of danger
Is not very long."
-The Virgins

Vanessa was back.

After two months of enduring a pretentious and uptight film program in Nevada, she was fed up, and she was back in New York, living with her older sister. More specifically, she was sitting on Dan's windowsill, having snuck in, via the fire escape, and she was positively ranting. Angry words gushed out of her mouth, words Dan could hardly keep track of. He did catch wisps of her monologue though: Hypocrites. Rich tyrants. Nonbelievers in creativity. Squashing of pure genius. Better off being an inexperienced filmmaker than one who is pushed into doing things according to 'The Man.' Her rant, of course, was much longer and fleshed-out than what Dan was comprehending. He couldn't help it though, his thoughts were mostly on Blair.

He hadn't heard from her since Sunday night, hours after she had left the loft. Being particularly worried and anxious, Dan had allowed his thoughts to wander. What could possibly have happened to make her turn to him and his loft?

Had she told his father the truth? Was it because her mother had asked her to decide if she wanted her father to have custody of her?

Or had she just been too uncomfortable to reveal whatever the truth was?

Was she pregnant with Nate's baby?

Had Nate hit her?

Dan knew Nate was a big fan of pot, was this bothering Blair?

Did Nate want her to do drugs with him?

All of his worries turned to Nate having some involvement with Blair, and they always made him cringe. He couldn't help it though, he was jealous of Nate, jealous of the on-paper relationship he had with Blair. He called her his girlfriend. He was allowed to feel jealous and voice his opinion whenever another guy even spoke to her. He could walk around school, holding her hand. They could go out to eat in public. He could take her home to his parents and tell the truth about it. They could just be a couple, without any secrets or lies or sneaking around or hurting others. And Dan wanted that with Blair, he hated to admit it.

But the majority of his ideas concerning Nate wouldn't drive Blair from her own home, so he was at a loss again. Maybe she had told the truth. In any case, he was worried about her, and he had been the second she left the loft. So on Sunday night he had texted her a simple, 'Are you doing okay?' And she had replied with a curt, 'Yes.' There was no 'Thanks for asking- Thanks for caring- Thanks for letting me sleep at your house- Thanks for enduring my almost ungrateful attitude!'

So, out of anger and out of intelligence, he left her alone. He didn't text her, didn't call her- nothing. He believed in the old adage, if she wanted to talk to him, she would, otherwise she just wasn't good enough. But Dan secretly hoped she would text him or SOMETHING, just to save his sanity.

It was Wednesday now. He had homework to catch up on, cleaning to do, poems begging to be written, clothes hiding the floorspace of his room, and Vanessa was back! But nothing could distract him. He almost felt like everything else was distracting him from thinking about Blair, and he didn't know what to do.

"Dan!"

He startled to attention, looking to Vanessa from where he had been staring dazedly toward the wall.

"What?"

Vanessa rolled her pale-green eyes, "You're not listening to me!"

Dan shook his head and rubbed his face, "I'm sorry Vanessa, I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

Vanessa's wild head of curls was pulled into a high bun and was shooting in all directions. She had on chunky earrings and mismatched clothes. Once upon a time Dan had had a crush on Vanessa, but looking at her now was like looking at a sister. And seeing her again after her stint in Nevada was like when Jenny had stayed away at summer camp. He felt reunited with a sibling. But thoughts of Blair were still filling his mind.

"Uh-oh!" Vanessa joked. "Tell Sister Nessa what's troubling you bubbie."

Dan rolled his eyes, but couldn't help smiling, "It's nothing really."

"It's a girl!" Vanessa suddenly stood up and shouted.

"W-What?"

She did a little dance around the room and pointed at him, "I figured it out! You've got yourself some girl troubles!"

Dan sighed, there was no use in telling her otherwise, "Okay-fine- It's true."

Vanessa stopped dancing and flopped down on Dan's bed, "What's her name?"

He hesitated before saying, "Blair."

"Blair?" she reiterated. "Sounds like Apple or Harlow- One of those Upper East Side famous-sounding names," she wrinkled her face up.

Dan froze and just looked at her.

Vanessa noticed this and stopped, "Dan."

He didn't say anything.

"She's not."

Silence.

"You have not fallen for an Upper East Side girl!"

He slowly began to nod.

Vanessa fell back onto his bed, "The betrayal!"

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, as if a sacred piece of CIA information in his care had been leaked, Dan shut up.

"Just don't mention it to anyone- okay?" he tried to sound casual. "I don't want anyone thinking I'm in love with her when I'm not even sure if I like her."

Lie.

Vanessa sat up, pretended to zip her lips and said, "Mum's the word!"

At the end of their conversation of the tiny brunette, Dan felt a familiar trickle of confusion poison the thoughts in his mind. This confusion, this feeling of his brain being so full that he almost wanted to grab his head and clutch at his hair, was growing familiar, and he always associated it with Blair. Ever since she had left the loft he had felt fitful and anxious. Was she angry with him? Was she pleased that he had allowed her to stay in his home? Was she disgusted by his father? Was she grateful for him? Because Blair was so unpredictable, he didn't know.

Dan Humphrey was confused and frustrated, to say the least, but he was going to maintain his dignity and his grace. And God help him he was not going to give in and call her before she called him.

It wasn't usually dangerous for Blair to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's, but she was trying to do homework that Thursday afternoon and it just happened to be on television. She listened to it in the background as she finished her French textbook work, and then her European History notes. But after she packed up all of her things and put them away, she settled into her father's favorite armchair, imagining the smell of him still nestled into the fibers of the fabric, watching her favorite scenes unfolding before her. She thought about her father, hidden away in France, kissing and holding some male model. Truthfully, it made her sick, she couldn't think of her father that way, but it was the truth, and she couldn't hide from it.

No matter how hard she tried.

Blair forced herself to concentrate on the movie, to think about anything but her father and the hole he had left behind when he left her and her mother. She focused all of her attention on Holly Golightly and her struggle to love. She watched as Paul 'Fred' chased after her, begged for her love in return, and as she turned him away for money.

By the time Holly was running through the alleyways in the rain, calling for a nameless cat, Blair had forgotten all about her father in France. Instead, she found she was thinking about her own love-life, or the tangled mess it was.

Which made watching Breakfast at Tiffany's dangerous. It made her miss romance, and feel a little bit lustful. And what was she supposed to do to ease or subdue these feelings? Call Nate for a snuggle-session? She snorted at the very thought, not these days. Nate, the man who didn't particularly like her, wasn't exactly the one to call for romance. But Dan... Dan was another matter entirely.

She only felt a little ashamed, slightly embarrassed, as she called Dan. Yeah sure, maybe it was a booty-call, but technically it was more like a romance-call.

So she had called him.

Obviously she had called him, he was on his way to her house. He smiled to himself as he walked up the Upper East Side streets, moving relatively quick. The whole subway ride over he had been smirking, and it was a long subway ride, but he couldn't help it. He had held out. She had been the one to call, to beg him to come over, saying she felt upset about her parents' divorce, that she needed a friend, she needed him. She hadn't said thank you for letting her stay at the loft, but he wasn't going to push his luck. After all, she had been the one to call him. She needed him. She had said it herself. The words had actually gushed out of Blair Waldorf's lips. About Dan Humphrey!

"Daniel, I need you."

Chills had run up and down his spine as her voice purred through the phone.

How can she make sadness sexy? he asked himself, baffled.

He was on his way to her house within ten minutes.

The word 'whipped' entered his mind, but he shrugged it off. He wasn't whipped, he wanted to go to her house. He wanted to be there for her, he wanted to see her tiny, beautiful body and her hopeful face. The face that revealed so much to him, the face that would be far to honest for her taste, had she realized he could read her through her expressions. But whipped? No. He wasn't whipped. Whipped would be her calling him over to pick out an outfit for her grandmother's tea party. Whipped would be walking a dog for her or picking up dry-cleaning. He was being a good friend, a good person, and that wasn't whipped.

But still, a voice in his head hummed. It's Blair Waldorf, a few weeks ago you would have cringed at the thought of jumping to help her.

This was true, Dan knew, but he also knew that he had been wrong about Blair. She wasn't a bitch, she wasn't a shallow conceited lady dictator. She wasn't even his odd Victorian dream-girl Marie Antoinette. She was Blair, and it seemed so much better than anything he could have hoped for. Maybe she wasn't the Aphrodite that Serena was, but she was better, she was deep, she was real, and he felt like he could truly get along with her. Well, he could, if Nate and Serena weren't in the way. So what if she tried to seem unapproachable? He had seen her in his t-shirt, and he had seen a glimpse of vulnerability. Blair stirred strange feelings inside of him, but he didn't care, because he liked it.

At the sound of the elevator opening, Blair's heart sped up.

She waited, holding her breath, until she heard the knock on her bedroom door.

"Miss Blair, a gentlemen is here to see you."

A small smile flickered across Blair's lips, "Thanks Dorota, you can just send him up."

Shortly after Dorota's footsteps had scuffled away, she heard another, heavier, more hesitant knock. This time, she stood up, padded over to the door in her pleated Marc Jacobs skirt and collared button-up. Opening the door, she saw Dan standing there, looking even more delicious than she could have hoped. A faux-pout twitched at her lips.

"Hey," she said.

He smiled at her, "Hi."

They stared at each other for several seconds before Blair moved aside and opened the door for him. Dan walked languidly into the room and she nearly pounced on him. She was hungry for romance, hungry for the passionate kiss that was given to Holly in Breakfast at Tiffany's. And right now, Dan looked like a triple sundae with chocolate syrup, M&M's and frozen strawberries. Blair closed the door behind her and sat down on her bed.

Looking up at Dan, she felt herself growing antsy.

"What's up?" Dan asked. "You said you felt upset about your parents divorce-"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Blair said quickly, truthfully. "Can we just talk about something else?"

Dan nodded, sitting down beside her on the bed, "Sure... How are you and Nate?" he was genuinely curious.

She actually winced, and she didn't have to force herself to do so, "I'd rather not talk about Nate either."

Dan wasn't sure what Blair would consider off limits, so he thought of what seemed like a distant, but extremely simple movie-theater question. A movie theater question that Serena van der Woodsen had gotten wrong. A question she said Blair would get right.

"Do you know who wrote Breakfast at Tiffany's?" he asked.

She furrowed her eyebrows, but said, "Truman Capote."

Serena had been right on their date, Blair did know everything about Breakfast at Tiffany's. The fact that she knew that, the fact that she had pictures of Audrey Hepburn and France adorning her walls, the fact that she was so beautiful, that he couldn't get the image of her in his t-shirt out of his mind, the fact that she put up with Serena, that her father had left her, that she was dealing with it all and finally leaning on someone- him!- for help, it all made him gently caress her hand, her wrist, all the way up her arm. He felt the goose bumps rise on her skin, and he smiled at the power he finally had over her, even if it was in some small way. He leaned in a little, if only to take in her familiar lilac sent. He ran the outside of his fingers up and down her arm until she clasped his hand in hers, as if she couldn't take it anymore, but in a pleasant way.

Blair's stomach was dropping dangerously low, tingly, jumping nervously in her body. The way Dan was caressing her, tickling her flesh and sending her heart racing, made her excited, yet terrified. Chills cascaded over her outter shell in the form of goose bumps at his touch. She watched him as his eyes trailed up and down her arm with his hand. Rough hands, soft hands, they were one in the same. And when she felt like she was going to burst with a giddy anxiousness, she grabbed his hand. His eyes met hers and he smiled.

"Why do you want to know who wrote Breakfast at Tiffany's?" she asked, and she wasn't sure why, but she asked it in a whisper.

Dan leaned in a little more, whispering as well, "I wanted to see if you knew."

With that he closed the space between them, unable to stay away from her any longer. Blair was grateful for it, the kiss was a release from the anxious tension building up inside of her. Their mouths seemed to fall open instantly, just upon contact. There was no safety in their kiss. It went straight to heated and dangerous from nonexistent. Their lips, tongues, teeth were all in on the game, in on the action that Blair and Dan's conscious minds couldn't even control. All they knew was they had to do it, and they couldn't stop it. It was as if they had been waiting for this, anticipating it for weeks, lifetimes maybe, and now they finally got their chance to go through with it, and it was better, more than they could have ever imagined.

Dan placed his hand just above her knee, and she had one of her manicured hands pressed against his chest. Without even thinking about it, Dan began to slide his hand up her thigh, until the fabric of her skirt was skimming the top of his knuckles. He didn't go too far, he wouldn't, not just yet. Blair, on the other hand was smiling against his kiss, enjoying every moment of it. She began to tug at the collar of his shirt, wishing it just wasn't on his body anymore.

Laughing a little against her lips, Dan took Blair's hand in his and squeezed it, pulling away from her mouth for a moment of air.

Blair felt a giggle rise in the back of her throat, but she didn't let it escape. Blair Waldorf did not giggle, but she did want to laugh, Dan's lips were sporting her lip gloss now, and she was sure she looked just as messy as he did.

She kept her hand in his, but swiveled her legs around so she was laying on the bed, she smiled suggestively at Dan and he smirked back at her. He had never felt so excited, so wicked, in his whole life, but he loved it. He loved being this way with Blair. He loved the way she was laying there against her pillows, her hair messy and her lip gloss smeared. He was sure he was falling for her, falling fast and falling hard.

And I'm still technically dating Serena, he thought to himself. But he forgot about it as he moved toward her, and then as he hovered over her, moving closer until his lips were trailing kisses all over her neck, and against her collarbones. She giggled then, she couldn't help it, the sensation tickled and made the giddiness bouncing inside of her grow even more intense. She put her arms around his neck and held tight, afraid she might lose him. And then her eyes widened, she allowed Dan to keep kissing her, but inside she was terrified. She was scared to death that she would start liking him, but now she was even more scared that she wouldn't, that she would lose him. The tangle of emotions ripped into Blair's stomach and she instantly felt nauseous, but she didn't think about it. Instead, she thought about Dan, she thought about being with him now, and she took a deep breath of his body spray, her nose pressed against his neck, and her heart rate slowed down.

Dan, on the other hand, was feeling his adrenaline rushing at a generous speed. It wasn't just the fact that he was kissing Blair, that their bodies were pressed together, that she was kissing him back, that she was right there, wanting him, but it was the fact that he knew he was falling for her and he didn't care. Letting his feelings go was making his heart speed up and his pulse buzz in his ears.

No Dan, you're not falling. You have already fallen.

Author's Note: Sorry it took a little while to update, I've been working on my new Blair/Dan story, and I couldn't log onto fanfiction for the longest time! Hope you all liked chapter eleven!