Whiskey and Gin

When Serena drank, her entire body went numb. There was no pain, no fear, no touch. Just flesh and lights and freedom.

Once, when she was fourteen, with her hair and long limbs swinging to the music, she'd pinched the skin along her cheekbones to create that dewy blush that appeared so naturally on Blair's fair skin. She pulled at herself, numb at the pain, only to find a line of bruises there in the mirror the next morning.

Her best friend, the night to her day, felt everything a thousand times more after a few. She was fifteen when she stumbled into their clumsy kiss. Serena had been admiring her naturally high cheekbones and the line of her big brown eyes. Her fingers brushed against her cheeks and Blair leaned into her touch further and further until her plump lips wrapped themselves around her long, slim fingers.

Serena didn't have to feel the skin on her hands by the way her heart trumped every cell of her being. "What you doin', B?" She slurred. She was not drunk enough for this. She wasn't supposed to feel anything.

The brunette shrugged and her small hands went to her neck, up her face until little fingers replaced Serena's in the girl's mouth. Who knew Blair Waldorf to have such a strange oral fixation a few gin and tonics in?

Serena slipped a hand around Blair's dewy shoulders and pressed her neck forward before licking a path along the sharp jawline that reached the most vicious tongue on the Upper East Side. She could nearly feel every nerve that jumped at every spot of contact on the small girl - the nails that dug slightly into her skin, the tip of the tongue that ran along the little bumps on the roof of her mouth, the long blond strands that hung down and brushed against her soft, bare arms...

Serena pulled away soon enough so that she could blame it on three weak whiskey sours she's had. No, she decided, she didn't feel anything at all. She twirled the little black straw and speared the little maraschino cherry after chasing it around her small glass. She mused briefly on the way the gold whiskey matched her hair, while the clear gin reflected Blair's skin like the moon.

They're seventeen and as the two kiss (not literally) and make up, Serena couldn't help but wonder exactly how drunk Blair had been the night she lost her virginity to Chuck. With Nate... well, she really couldn't remember too much other than the overwhelming guilt that led her straight to Georgina Sparks. She couldn't remember Nate's hands on her, or the way he kissed. Or much else about him, really. Just the nagging thought that he was not behaving as a boyfriend should, but that she never cared much for proper behavior.

There Serena sat on the steps though, and she genuinely wondered - exactly how good was Chuck Bass that he had her impossibly difficult to please best friend coming back for more? How much of it was him? It would be just like Blair, really. Heated skin, stimulated nerves, shaking and whispering and interpreting all of that to be romance and intrigue - true love. Would she ever figure out that it was the drink that had her blood pumping, her breath quickening, the lips parting and her hips quivering with need? It was the alcohol that had her hair standing on ends and the goosebumps on her fair skin peeking out to be soothed by a warm, manicured hand.

Then again, Blair had been intoxicated all those years back too and she had all but forgotten about their kiss. But sometimes, in the way Blair looked at her and bit her lip, Serena could swear that the booze was still blazing in her veins.

For her.