Blair can't let him go. They are standing in the Paris airport, her arms wrapped around his waist, her face buried in his chest.
"I have to get through security. I'm going to miss my flight." Dan murmurs, kissing the top of her head. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to be subversive, Blair Waldorf."
She knows she should release her arms, watch him walk away, but Blair just can't. She doesn't want this moment to end. She doesn't want him to leave. Blair mumbles something into his shirt.
"What?" Dan says, smiling down at her. Blair lifts her head and gazes up, into his eyes, liking what she sees in them.
"I just want you to stay."
They both know it's an impossible request. Neither of them have lives that they can just pick up and leave. He has his script to finish. She has her business. None of that makes this any less painful.
"I know." Dan says quietly then leans down and kisses her. Blair's eyes squeeze shut because the touch of his lips is both exquisitely painful and wonderful at the same time. She holds him tighter and they stay there for a moment longer, people streaming around there, a rush of humanity ignoring the two people wrapped around each other. Finally they break apart.
"Email me?" Blair says. Dan nods and kisses her again.
"And we can chat. I'll get up early."
"Yes."
"And skype."
Dan laughs at her. Blair feels something akin to physical pain as she releases her embrace and takes a step backward. Dan kisses her again, and this time it's a goodbye peck.
"See you soon." he smiles. Blair manages to muster a smile back and thinks that she won't see him soon enough. Then she watches him walk away, not moving until he disappears from her sight.
She goes back to the same routine. Meetings, working late, more meetings, and Blair finds it all barely tolerable. Her mind and heart are with Dan, in California. They are finally wrapping up plans for fashion week and Blair is busy helping with the model selection and visiting her designers. She normally loves this time of year, full of excitement and anticipation, but this year it just feels tedious.
Dan writes or calls every day. Sometimes it's a long and rambling email, telling her that he's sitting on his deck overlooking the Pacific and wishing she were there by his side. Sometimes she wakes to a voicemail from him, his voice gravelly from sleep, and he's telling her that he dreamed about her, and she knows from the sound of his voice that his dream wasn't exactly innocent. The sound of his voice sends desire shooting through her and Blair bites at her bottom lip and wants him.
One night they are chatting back and forth and Blair asks him when she might expect to finally get some sex out of this situation. Dan types out, 'Seven dates,' on the screen. Blair rolls her eyes and writes back, 'how is a girl supposed to survive this situation? And how are we supposed to actually achieve seven dates?'
'patience, Waldorf. Doing things right means not rushing.'
It's not like she wants to impertinently rush into anything, but it's also not like they're barely teenagers anymore for whom sex just makes things infinitely more complicated. Blair has grown enough to know that sex can be simply enjoyable, and she really wants to enjoy it with Dan. And it's also not like they haven't had sex before, and they've even had sex with each other, and while it's sweet that Dan is insisting on doing things right this time, Blair is starting to feel ever so slightly frustrated. She tells Dan this and is met with a smiley face on the chat screen.
'fuck you, Humphrey.' Blair spells out.
'Soon enough'
She's about to end the chat, close her laptop and talk to him another time when she hears the bleep of the messenger program and Dan has again melted her heart.
'I miss you.'
Blair guesses she can wait a little longer.
Things slow down at work and they're ready to launch the Waldorf Designs runway show. One morning Blair wakes up with the sun shining through the skylights in her loft apartment and it's a beautiful Parisian day, and Blair ponders what the sunrise would look like on the Pacific Coast, and suddenly she makes a decision.
She has a good staff. They've done fashion week dozens of times before. Blair is usually there the whole time, but she thinks this year she can let them take care of things and take a break. She leaps out of bed and calls her assistant, telling her that plans are changing, that Blair won't be attending the show after all. Then she goes to her closet, grabs her carry on and starts to throw clothes into it.
What is the weather on the Pacific Coast like in the spring, she wonders?
Blair is going to California.
By the time she lands at LAX, Blair has been in the air for almost twelve hours. Her body is aching for sleep but she still has at least an hour of driving, probably more. It's afternoon in LA and with a little luck she can get on the road and out of rush hour traffic. It's strange being on the West Coast, with its expansive freeways and cars everywhere, and Blair misses the compactness of Paris and New York, where you call a car to get you where you need to be and there aren't a million different ways to get there.
Blair has one stop to make before she heads towards Dan's house. She asks for directions to a nearby bookstore, makes her purchase and then she's on the road. She ends up stuck in traffic despite efforts not to be, and almost two hours later she's pulling her rental car into the driveway of Dan's Laguna Beach bungalow.
Blair tucks the small pile of books she bought under her arm and she makes her way to the front door, squinting in the late afternoon sunlight, hoping that Dan is actually home because she didn't call to tell him she was coming. She raps her knuckles on the wood front door and stands there, waiting, then raps again, a little harder. Finally she hears the sound of the lock unclicking and the doorknob turns.
"Blair!" Dan says, his face surprised to open his door and find her standing on the porch. "What the hell?"
His words mirror her own when she had found him in the hallway outside her apartment weeks ago.
"Seven dates?" Blair says, pushing past him. He's wearing a pair of shorts and an old ratty t-shirt, and if Blair wasn't so tired she might find a way to say something about the sorry state of California chic these days, but all she wants to do is wrap her arms around him then find a bed to collapse into and sleep.
She hands him the books and he looks at them. They are tourist books; a Lonely Planet guide, a book listing restaurants, Southern California day trips.
"What are these," Dan asks. Blair smiles tiredly at him.
"If we have five more dates to go I thought we could use some inspiration to find some different things to do."
Dan laughs and it's one of those hearty chuckles that come deep from the belly, and Blair can tell from the look on his face that he's thoroughly amused.
"It's a long way to come for a booty call, Waldorf."
Blair laughs back.
"Well, it's not like you were going to do anything about our predicament, Humphrey. A girl has needs. Drastic times call for drastic measures. Now, where is your guest room. I need to sleep."
She feels like she's about to fall over, exhaustion seeps into her bones.
Dan leads her down the hallway and Blair trails after him, her head nodding. She knows she should stay up and fight jet lag, but she also has time. She has no schedule for returning to Paris, so she doesn't have to rush the time change adjustment.
Blair lies down on the bed without pulling down the quilt that covers it and Dan says something about being glad that he had just changed the sheets a few days ago, tells her that he'll be writing in his office if she needs anything, and then he leans over her and kisses her softly on the forehead and murmurs in her ear.
"Sleep well my love."
The last thing Blair remembers is a blanket being thrown over her and then she drifts away into dreamland with Dan's words repeating over and over again in her head.
My love.
It's dark when Blair wakes up and she turns over to blearily look at the clock to find that it's 2 am.
Fuck. She hates jet lag.
By the time Dan wakes up Blair has been out for a run, enjoying the amazing views of the ocean. She has made coffee and found a bakery down the street that has passable pain au chocolate, and is eating one when Dan stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking up everywhere.
"You're really here."
Blair smiles.
"I'm really here."
Dan comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her then sleepily buries his face in the back of her neck and Blair's breath catches.
"Good morning," he says, his voice muffled by her hair.
Blair isn't sure anyone should be this happy. She leans back and lets herself rest against Dan's chest. After a long minute, he lets her go and walks around the kitchen counter and pours himself a cup of coffee.
"So, what's your plan, Waldorf?" Dan asks, sipping his coffee, his eyes gazing over the cup, amused.
"Well," Blair starts. "I have a few ideas."
She tells him she wants to do something truly touristy, and Dan says Venice Beach might do the trick. He has a meeting in LA in a couple days and he tells her she can come with him.
"And I want to eat at your favorite restaurant."
"Easy enough." Dan says.
"And I want to go to Napa."
Dan does that eyebrow thing he does that tells her he might find her suggestion a little unrealistic.
"Ummm, Blair, do you know where Napa is? It's a long drive from here."
Blair blinks innocently.
"I thought a day of wine tasting sounded good."
"Maybe we can go in the fall for the crush, but if we're trying to get these dates done somewhat quickly..."
Dan's voice is suggestive and Blair remembers the point of her trip. She licks her lips and wishes they were past their seven dates. She also likes that Mr. Here and Now is thinking about doing something together in the future.
"Ummmmm," Blair stutters, distracted, suddenly unable to focus, "golf?"
Dan's eyebrows go up again, this time in surprise.
"Golf?" he repeats.
"Isn't that what you do in California?"
"Um, I don't really like golf." Dan says. Neither does Blair, so she tells him they can scratch that.
"A day at the beach?" Blair suggests.
"Only if you wear a bikini."
She hasn't worn a bikini in years, which means they'll need to do some shopping. Blair thinks she'll need to pick up some sunscreen as well. And sunglasses. She doesn't want to burn.
"And we should definitely go to San Diego." Dan says quickly. "it's not too far."
Blair bites into the acceptable pain de chocolate and watches Dan from across the kitchen counter.
"Does that make five?" she asks, then takes another bite.
"Four, I think," Dan answers, "but I want to plan the fifth date."
Blair shrugs.
"Sure. It's only fair since I'm doing all the work."
Dan laughs.
They start that day, having lunch at Dan's favorite taqueria located along the beach, and Blair eats shrimp tacos spritzed with cilantro and lime, wrapped in corn tortillas, and she slathers them in fresh salsa and licks her fingers when she's done. Dan laughs at how uncouth she can be at times. They drink margaritas out of plastic cups and Blair feels warm and fuzzy, and she reaches across the table and grabs Dan's hand.
"This is nice," she says.
Afterward they walk along the beach and Blair rests her head on Dan's shoulder and mumbles something about being tired as her early morning catches up with her, and Dan pokes her in the ribs and tells her that she's going to have stay awake if she wants to adjust to the time change. They go back to his bungalow and Dan makes Blair dinner, and they curl up on the couch and watch a movie, Dan preventing Blair from drifting off by providing color commentary, and she lies curled in his lap, her head resting on his chest. The sun goes down and the stars come out, and they are shining brightly over the ocean and Blair finally can let her eyes drift shut.
Four more dates to go.
TBC