Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl. Seriously.

A/N: Written for shopfront for Femslash Ficathon 2009.

A/N2: Thanks to dauthik for looking this over in such short notice!

A/N3: If you like the fic, please review!


No one would have been able to guess, but Georgina Sparks tasted sweet on the lips. Sweet and addictive, a little like sin; or maybe evil. A little bit of both would perhaps paint a more accurate picture. Blair knew for sure, however, what Georgina also tasted like: a mistake. And if there were anything Blair could understand, could relate to, they would be mistakes; and she almost always found great comfort in the self-inflicted or the self-orchestrated types. She was pretty sure too that Georgina was some sort of a messy culmination of the two.

The first time Georgina had been surprisingly innocent, as if she needed to re-establish a reputation too far destroyed to even be deemed one anymore. Or maybe it was an accident, but if it was, Blair was convinced that Fate had a very bad sense of humour.

"I'm back," Georgina announced in a voice thickly laced with alcohol as she threw open the door to their shared dorm room. Housing services had refused to relocate Georgina (and Blair would rather put up wit the nuisance than give up the only dorm room with an actual view) and they had not been very much impressed with Blair's willingness to throw money at them either.

Blair huffed as Georgina broke the very silence she had come to cherish. They tried, or at least Blair did, to keep out of each other's way and were rarely in the room at the same time. Whenever they were actually in the room at the same time, the inevitable silence that ensued (tense and more than a little awkward, broken only by the all-too-familiar scent of alcohol and/or cigarettes, and the tangibility of barely withheld tension) reminded Blair so much of home that it never really felt like she had left it behind.

Georgina's attempt at being quiet predictably resulted in doing the exact opposite and the loud noise brought Blair's attention back to the predicament she had suddenly found herself in. It was a school night and they had a big paper due the following day, but that had never stopped Georgina from coming 'home' at ungodly hours before. Blair herself had spent the night being productive: she had given her paper another look before printing and then binding it. Her finished paper was now resting safely within a folder inside her bag, ready to be handed in first thing in the morning. That had been less than half an hour ago and Blair had decided that she might as well wind down first because turning in at eleven at night would simply be too early.

Obviously, she would now need to make changes to that particular plan. She had not counted on Georgina coming back early, much earlier than she usually did. Eyeing the way Georgina made her way through her extremely cluttered half of the room on extremely unsteady legs, Blair surmised that Georgina had somehow managed to get just as drunk even though she obviously had much less time than she usually had to work with. Blair figured she could just ignore Georgina for the rest of the night. With any luck, Georgina would pass out any minute now and a sleeping Georgina is a Georgina she could handle. Georgina did not snore and it would almost be like she had the room all to herself. Or she might just as well get up and leave and save herself the trouble of breathing the same air as Georgina for any longer than she already did. That, however, would simply be an admission of defeat on her part and, besides, she was perfectly comfortable sitting on the floor with the latest Vogue firmly in hand.

Before Blair could decide on which course of action (or non-action) she must take at this juncture, Georgina had robbed her of all options by tripping over a stack of shoe boxes and eventually ending up sprawled heavily on top of a very surprised Blair.

"Sorry," Georgina mumbled into Blair's hair, not sounding remotely apologetic and neither was she taking any immediate measure to remove herself.

"Just get off of me," Blair hissed, trying to find an acceptable spot on Georgina's body for her hands to land on so that she could begin the process of detaching herself from the pest.

"Your hair smells nice," Georgina whispered into Blair's ear and Blair realised in great distress that not only had Georgina completely ignored her, her nose had also burrowed into a particularly sensitive spot of hers.

Biting back a tiny moan, Blair tried to say firmly, only to find the voice that left her lips to be a little breathier than she ever would have intended it to be, "Get off of me, Sparks."

Georgina pulled back a little and glanced at her at that, what might have been surprise or knowledge flickering across her eyes. Those very eyes bore into Blair's and Blair's breath hitched a little in response. Georgina's eyes were too bright, her lips were too wet and her hands were too restless where they rested against the curves of Blair's hips; and the solid weight of Georgina pressing down on top of her was a source of heat Blair wanted so desperately to find unwelcome, but her body betrayed her so thoroughly by actually responding.

"You have beautiful lips," Georgina breathed, her eyes pointedly tracking down to Blair's lips. The tip of Georgina's tongue peeked out to wet a corner of her bottom lip and Blair willed herself to picture this bitch on top of her as an evil snake, but the image that sprung to mind was of her own tongue pressing against Georgina's, of her own teeth scraping against that rapidly skipping pulse she could see much better if she would just turn her head just so –

"May I kiss you?" Georgina murmured, her warm breath ghosting across Blair's lips and Blair felt her lips part just a little in anticipation. She squeezed them shut in horror and directed a groan inwardly.

Traitor, she yelled at her libido. Right, it replied in a snide drawl. "Get off, Sparks," Blair husked in what sounded too much like defeat, her voice lacking the venom it usually had such an abundance of.

"Waldorf," Georgina murmured, fingers skimming the tops of Blair's pyjama shorts and hands resting solidly on the bit of skin that showed where her pyjama top had ridden up. "Blair," she continued with a touch of a plea in her voice, scratching at the bare skin with slightly chipped nails and caressing alternately with the pads of her thumbs. "Please."

Afterward, Blair would often justify her subsequent actions by pointing out that Georgina had sounded so desperate, so needy by the end of whatever she had been trying to pull off that, when Blair eventually gave in, it was practically charity. Georgina would usually smirk in response and whisper a little too sweetly in Blair's ear that she should get to be on top for the night in exchange.

For now, however, it was Georgina who first moaned when her tongue finally had its first taste of Blair and Georgina's hips were the first to seek contact with Blair's.

As for Blair, the last coherent thought she had before she surrendered to the sticky sweetness of Georgina Sparks' lips were: Finally. Some silence.


Georgina was evil incarnate clad in couture and nothing could ever change Blair's mind on that. Blair had to admit, however, that she more than redeemed herself by being astonishingly good with her fingers. Her lips. Her tongue. Her imagination. Best of all, she made Blair forget and ignore.

Georgina seemed to know when to best approach Blair: after her mother's phone calls, after Serena's, after contacts with people Blair felt she was growing increasingly detached from. During those times and definitely after those times, Blair usually allowed Georgina to stay in her bed till the morning after. She even grudgingly acquiesced to being spooned by Georgina.

She liked that Georgina never offered her apologies, never really said anything, promised anything, never did anything but tried and made sure to take Blair's mind off. Maybe Georgina had some heart left under all that rotting carcass she liked to parade around as her body.

Blair still made the conscious effort to not stay in the room during the times when she knew Georgina would be in. But she liked coming back to their room where a presumptuous Georgina would be lying naked on either of their beds, spread very much like an expensive (very much indecent) feast. Not that she would be telling Georgina that.

Blair had also tried not to notice that there were less bottles lying around Georgina's half of the room, less suspicious sachets with traces of white powder left in the shared trash can and even less cigarette butts littering the floor. It was only that first night that Georgina even vaguely smelled and tasted like alcohol.

To know that a sober Georgina seemed to wish to pursue some sort of a relationship with her left Blair with a bitter taste in her mouth (or not).


"I hate you so much," Blair hissed against smeared lipstick and surveyed the way her scratches left angry, red lines down the length of Georgina's throat. It made her heart thump painfully against her ribs.

"Good," Georgina responded, pushing Blair up against the door of their room and hiking Blair's skirt up all in one move. She was talented like that.

"Stay with me till the morning?" Blair whispered a little hesitantly against the slickness of Georgina's neck, her words punctuated by raspy breaths.

"Yeah," Georgina answered in a voice that sounded a little too small, a little too sincere, pressing her lips suddenly against Blair's once more, her arms entwined tightly around Blair's waist.


Blair liked that Georgina always reached for her during sleep, liked the quick flash of what she suspected might just be affection (and something more) in Georgina's eyes whenever she thought Blair was not looking. Maybe, just maybe, one of these days she could tell Georgina that she liked having her around.

Not yet though.