Title: Eternal Contemplations
Author: fading_tales
Pairing: Damon/Blair (Vampire Diaries/Gossip Girl cross-over)
Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries, Gossip Girl or any of their characters.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Timing means nothing and everything when you have an eternity to live.
A/N: So I decided to expand the story and make it something new and unrelated to Blood Roses although the premise remains the same. Time frame for GG is pre-pilot. For TVD, the time frame is set after 1x09 (History Repeating). Everything becomes AU from there on out. I hope you guys enjoy! Please review/comment, I appreciate any and all feedback!
Chapter Two
She comes out of school with Kati and Iz trailing behind and chattering about something trivial. She looks for Nate, but the blonde haired boy is nowhere in sight. Instead her eyes are drawn to a darker haired former stranger in a leather jacket. He smiles and waves, the perfect picture of a bad boy leaning against a bad boy car. He has the look of someone who obviously knows how handsome he is and isn't afraid to flaunt it. She takes him in and appreciates the view. Whatever bubbly feelings she has, being the ice queen that she is, she reins it all in. With her emotions under control, Blair allows her face to form a mask of nonchalance. Decision made up, she dismisses Kati and Iz and makes her way across the street to where he is.
He pushes himself off of the car, ready to greet her.
"Hi."
She pauses for a millisecond to give him a smile and then walks right past him and into the bakery shop behind him.
After the initial shock of being snubbed twice in twenty-four hours by this girl, he begins to admire her. Most girls would be clamoring for his attention by now. If the devilish tall, dark and handsome bit doesn't work, his vampire charisma sure would. But none of it was working. She's completely unimpressed and unaffected and it's all the more reason he's starting to like her more and more.
Eventually Blair comes out of the shop, her hands laden with boxes of assorted mini cakes and pastries. He's waiting for her and this time he's not going to get passed by.
"Hi," he repeats, as if she didn't just totally brush him off the first time.
Two times is the charm, really.
"Still here?"
"You were worth the wait."
"I thought you'd come up with a cleverer greeting since the last time we met."
"Well… it worked out so well the last time…"
"Last time I ignored you."
"At first, but eventually my seductive 'hi' running through your head brought you around."
"Oh, did it now?"
"How else can it explain you standing here next to me?"
"A momentary lapse in judgment perhaps?"
He laughs. She has a witty retort for everything and always has to have the last word.
"You have quite the razor tongue."
"All the better to cut you with. I don't like dull things."
"Neither do I…" he says seductively, trying on once again if his powers work. "Can I help you with your bags?"
She's a little taken aback by his chivalry that is all but dead in the high volume, high speed New York City.
"You're not from around here are you?"
"No." It's the understatement of the year. "I'm only visiting, but I think I might have found a reason for staying around. Your bags?" he extends a helping hand accompanied with a look laced with persuasive powers.
"I can handle myself. I better get going. People are waiting on these pastries."
It doesn't work. She's just… immune somehow. The only reason he can conjure up (no pun intended) is that she's a witch. And if so, then the game plan is about to change. She would be exactly what he's been looking for, the crucial missing ingredient to his plan to open Katherine's tomb. The fact that she's easy on the eyes doesn't hurt matters.
"Are you a witch?" he asks bluntly, his voice taking on a sinister tone.
She matches his grave expression.
"Close… but I think the term people often use is a slight variance," she answers seriously.
His head runs through all the possible variety of magical creatures and what-not that she could possibly be classified under. A hundred and seventy-five years. That's how long he's lived and he can't think of anything she could possibly be other than a witch.
"And what term would that be?" he asks, ready to strike at any moment's notice if she proves to be difficult. He needs her alive and he'd prefer it if she would cooperate willingly, but if worse comes to worse… he's not afraid to bang some fangs.
"A bitch," she quips, a smug smile on her face.
He smiles in spite of himself. He was supposed to be intimidating her, not laughing at her jokes. It's a difficult feat when she continues to be so amusing.
"You're kind of weird, do you know that?"
It's an insult, but she still has that smile on her face. He decides to take things slow and ease up with the hostilities, enjoy himself a bit.
"So you're a bitch and I'm a weirdo. We'd make some kind of awesome couple wouldn't we?"
"Awesome is not the word I'd use. And now that we're done with the labeling, I really do have to get going."
"Where to?"
He still doesn't know what she is and he's not letting her go until he does because witch she might not be, she still has some strong compulsion powers of her own. He doesn't want to let her get away.
"Home. My mother's having a dinner party tonight for some buyers and a few guests. She asked me to pick up some extra desserts since the catering staff is woefully inadequate."
"Sounds like fun," he says sarcastically. "Let me give you a lift."
"I have a boyfriend."
He shouldn't be surprised. A girl like her, it would be more absurd that no one tried to stake a claim yet. Not that she would ever let anyone stake a claim on her. She's much more likely to put a stake through a poor bloke's heart than have any man possess her. Maybe that's why he likes her so much. He has a thing for the femme fatale types. Exhibit A: Katherine Pierce.
"I'm giving you a ride, not asking you to jettison off with me to Jamaica where we'll get married by some tribal shaman. Although I hear Jamaica is quite nice this time of the year."
She considers it for a moment and he tries his compulsion again.
"Let me give you a ride. Your boyfriend won't mind."
After a pause she answers him with a dramatically exasperated sigh.
"Fine. These are new shoes and I wouldn't want to ruin them."
He smiles a smile that can only be achieve when one's plan falls into place and opens the door for her. Whether or not his powers worked is still up in the air, but he'll take what he can get.
xxx
They arrive in front of the immodest Waldorf household and he stumbles before the threshold. She's standing right behind the doorway, only ten inches away, but effectively completely out of his reach. It's strangely unnerving how uneasy he feels to be separated from her, even if it's such a small distance.
She turns around to face him and he does his best to look the everlasting handsome stud that he is.
"Thanks for the ride."
"It was my sincerest pleasure." He adds a mockingly flourishing bow to accompany the statement. She rolls her eyes at his antics.
"Your tongue is quite glib. Don't you get tired of being so…"
"Incredibly handsome and charming?" he finishes.
"I was going to say cheesy and cliché."
"You say that, but I know inside you're just waiting for me to sweep you off your feet like Prince Charming."
The words seem to have struck a chord with her that he hadn't expected and her face grows somber.
"I don't believe in fairytales," she states obstinately, almost as if trying to convince herself.
"You're lying. Sure you do." All girls do, surely.
"Fairytales aren't real. There's no Prince Charming or magic in this world."
"There might not be any Prince Charming, but that doesn't mean there's no magic."
"What? Like pixie dust and fairy godmothers?" she mocks.
He laughs, "Yeah. Like that… or like curses… voodoo… vampires and goblins."
"Goblins? Seriously?" She laughs.
"Well, maybe not goblins."
He's glad her smile is back were it belongs. The strange urge to make her smile lies unfamiliarly at the pit of his stomach.
"You know this party my mother's having is sort of boring…but I do have a few friends over. Do you want to come in for a little bit?"
"Is that an invitation?" he asks. It's what he's been waiting for.
"Yeah. I guess it is."
"It'll be my pleasure," he says with a deviant smile and takes a step across the threshold.