So I have been watching season 2 of Gossip Girl and frankly speaking it's kind of losing it's charm for me. Some how the second season doesn't seem as gasp-worthy as the first -le sigh- Anyhow those are my sentiments, dont read too much into them. But I still love Dan/Blair. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own GG, Jimmy Choos, Herve Leger, John Donne, The Romantics, or the lyrics which are from Flo-Rida's song Right Round. The lines are from the chorus which is insanely catchy and stuck in my head. I thought they fitted well here, so.

And here goes my first decent attempt at a full length Dair fic. Thanks to Bright123 for so nicely beta-ing this. The fic is AU.


You spin my head right round, right round, when you go down, when you go down, down.


Did he just have that dream again?

He sits up and shakes his head experimentally because he cannot have that dream. He cannot have that dream where he's pressing butterfly kisses on skin as smooth as silk. He cannot have that dream where he is mesmerized by ruby red lips whispering sweet nothings. He cannot have that dream where his nose is filled with the heady smell of begonias wafting from thick mahogany colored tresses.

He cannot have that dream where he just grabs her on the streets and pulls her in for a kiss.

He cannot dream of Blair Waldorf because she's the Queen B. and he's just Lonely Boy, from the opposite end of town.

/

This is not the first time he's dreamt of her. He doesn't even know from when exactly he started dreaming of her. Maybe it was from when he saw her on her birthday all beautiful and lost, living in her own little bubble, waiting for Nate to come calling. Or maybe it was from when he saw her at school, daintily walking down the hallways with a curious half smile on her face. He just doesn't know.

All that he knows is for quite sometime, Blair Waldorf and her fashionable self have been invading his dreams.

And he can't seem to figure out why.

/

He's meeting Serena for coffee - as friends because they have finally figured that as a couple they are much too complex to click - but when he gets to the coffee shop, instead of Serena he finds an impeccably dressed Blair, sitting at the table and looking bored.

"Something came up and Serena said she'd text you later with details. So I'm keeping you company until you bore me out of my skull," she says in answer to the quizzical expression on his face.

"And that shouldn't take long," he replies sardonically.

She just sweetly smiles at him and if he didn't know the real Blair Waldorf he could have sworn he cannot see the murderous hint behind it. But he does know her and he does see the hint. Just his luck to have decidedly R-rated dreams about a girl who very clearly thinks of him as nothing more than lonely, awkward, bitter/sarcastic and nerdy boy from Brooklyn.

He sits down across the table and when he catches a hint of those begonias, all those dreams come back in a rush and he swallows nervously, hoping to goodness that he won't blurt out anything incriminatory. His cheeks color and when he finds her looking at him curiously, almost with concern he chokes and coughs.

She doesn't say anything but pushes her bottle of sparkling water towards him and motions him to drink.

He grasps the bottle and pours the liquid down his burning throat.

"Did you choke on air?" she questions.

He wants to answer that he choked on the smell of begonias wafting from her hair but even with his lack of social skills he knows that would be so so wrong. So instead he nods.

"Likely story. However I have a store to visit and since Serena begged me to keep you occupied, you're coming with me," she says as she gets up and leaves a couple of notes on the table.

That's typical Blair. You may not want to do something but when she says it you inevitably find yourself doing it, especially if you are Lonely Boy from Brooklyn who just can't seem to get enough of the Queen B., never mind that more than half the time you are just as annoying or more as the gum that got stuck on her one of a kind Jimmy Choos.

/

He is following her like a lost puppy, head hung low, wondering if trailing behind Blair and spending time with her is a good thing for his sanity, when she suddenly stops in front of him.

"Why do you look like you are going to a funeral?" she questions curiously.

He is thrown off course. He's so used be being worthless gum, that concern feels very out of place and new, coming especially from her.

And for the second time in the day, he chokes on air and maybe a tiny hint of begonias.

"I was just thinking," he manages to stutter. He knows he's lying and the sad part is even she knows he's lying. But it's one of those days when she just lets him be and doesn't throw any barbs about him and Brooklyn his way.

She leads him into a high end boutique, the name of which he doesn't know. All he knows that judging by its sparse racks and artful décor it's something high-end. He sits in a corner while women dressed in slinky black sheaths and impossibly high heels mill around her like moths to a flame. Blair Waldorf is fashion royalty to be fawned over. However she blows them off politely and peruses the racks at her leisure.

It's always all about doing things her way.

She finally finds something and carries it into the dressing room.

He watches her as she comes out. It's a yellow Herve Léger bandage dress. He knows the dress because Jenny has been going on and on about it. Except he's pretty sure, the dress wouldn't look good on Jenny. Jenny is tall and slender, all angles and bones. The dress is meant for someone with just enough curves. Like Blair. The dress fits her like second skin, hugging her body in all the right places. And though it fits her perfectly, it still doesn't feel right.

And he doesn't know why he does it but he says it anyways. "You should get that in red or in jewel tones." His ears turn pink and he wishes the earth would open and swallow him up whole. Because Nate would have complimented her on the dress and her beauty, Chuck would have commented on her beauty in a different manner. Only he would open his big mouth and tell her to get a different color.

She turns around to look at him quizzically, not expecting him to be the one giving her fashion advice. But years of living with an aspiring designer have at least taught him something.

"You are right, Humphrey," she says and walks off to ask the assistant about the other colors available. He sees that she follows his advice and gets the dress in ruby red. The dress is beautiful and is showed off to even greater advantage against her pale skin and dark hair. His breath catches at the sight of her in the mirror, posing gracefully.

His dreams take on a new direction tonight.

/

She leads the way out of the store and he follows. It's just like in the dreams. She leads with an alluring smile and bewitching gaze and he follows, trusting implicitly. If she wants she could lead him over the edge of a cliff and he would follow.

She's like the damned pied piper.

She leads him next to book store. A book store that's falling apart and filled with dusty old books and is smelling of beeswax and lavender. This is his kind of place. One where he fits in instantly. She also seems equally at home, her fingertips delicately dancing over the fragile spine of bound books.

She seems to be slowly taking over every aspect of his life. Invading his dreams and real life. But he doesn't mind. The fragrance of begonias makes everything better.

But he needs to know.

"Why are we here?" And with it goes the silent question, why in my domain.

"I thought it would cheer you up," she says, not meeting his eyes. He is touched beyond words. He may not be in the same league as Serena, but at least he's moving up from the status of gum stuck to the shoe. It's exhilarating knowing that.

"Thanks," he says and she rolls her eyes in response. But she seems far from miffed. If he's right he can see the slightest hint of a dimple peeking from her cheeks. But for posterity's sake he is not.

She turns away and disappears into the bookshelves and he smiles and browses. Half an hour later he's at the counter with a slender volume of early nineteenth century poetry in his hands. The Romantics are beckoning to him again. He needs some beautiful imagery to counteract the wiles of Blair Waldorf in his dreams.

She comes up to his side with a book in her hands too. He squints and notices that it's the poetry of John Donne. He smiles; John Donne is one of his favorites.

"What? I happen to like well written metaphors," she says a tad defensively.

He just smiles and nods.

/

He walks out of the store and she follows, soon catching up to him. She's chewing her lip insistently and that action bothers him. Because it's the kind of action that's going to make him lose control of his tightly repressed emotions and kiss her senseless on the sidewalk/street.

God, he sounds like a fucking romance hero from a cheap trashy novel.

"Is it about a girl?" she suddenly questions him, looking straight in the eyes, so that try as he can, he can't look away. He takes some time before he answers though, weighing his options carefully, even though the begonias are telling him to throw caution to the wind.

"Yes, it is," he answers carefully.

"Well, whoever it is, she's not worth it," she says looking at him, again with piercing brown eyes.

Well he has to disagree, because in his head, Blair Waldorf is just about worth everything.

"Actually, she is."

"Well not until I approve of her," she says with a playful smile. And he smiles back, wanting to laugh at the irony.

"You would approve her," he says with a smile.

"Well, I look forward to meeting her," she says with an enigmatic smile, that once again replays those dreams in sweet slow motion.

And someday she will he thinks, as he nods and assures her with a smile. Until then his dreams will have to do.

But he hopes that like everything else, they turn to reality.

She hooks her arms through his and they walk down the street, still Lonely Boy and Queen B, but someday he knows that they will be more than just two different people on opposite ends of town.

And he's going to patiently wait for that day.


You spin my head right round, right round, when you go down, when you go down, down