Title: Parts of You
Summary: - "She licked her lips and he leaned in and they were kissing, to put it simply." – She was always running away from the truth. Dan/Blair.
Elevator Music: Parts of You - Ally Rhodes
They hadn't really defined their relationship. They were just distractions to each other, after all.
He says it started when they met at the cinema. He couldn't really define what it was, and she didn't bother asking him.
She calls it a mistake, seeing him there. But she'd just forgotten the word for fate.
It was different, and they'd both sensed it. That didn't, however, stop her from placing herself exactly three seats away from where he was sitting. It also didn't stop him from leaning over and handing the popcorn bag to her.
She pushed it right back to him and shook her head, indignant.
But as the credits rolled and she shifted to gather her purse, she noticed the layer of butter coating her raspberry lip-gloss. She blinked, snatched up her bag, and walked away briskly. She didn't look back. He watched her walk away.
The next time they met away from social entanglements and their respective others was by pure coincidence, he believed. She never dared to tell him that she had Dorota partake in some covert operations.
Their attention was captured by a French film. While his eyes flitted over the subtitles, she murmured the lines under her breath. He couldn't help notice that her accent was perfect, like her.
She still sat three seats from him.
The third time she sat next to him, her posture showing that she was slightly uncomfortable. He placed a candy bar in her lap. And while part of her was repulsed by eating something so… not decadent, the other part of her was touched. Sort of.
Not really, but she ate the candy bar, and felt a surge of something. Change, maybe.
The fourth time, their hands met in between kernels. He didn't say anything. Neither did she.
She bought her own popcorn the movie after.
She sat a row behind him and he pretended not to notice. But he did.
The meeting afterwards, he bumped into her in the aisle and spilled her popcorn on the carpet. He sat next to her and gave her his popcorn as an apology.
They made an effort to actually speak the next movie. He whispered silently while she feigned vexation. But, really, she wanted to laugh, because how had she never noticed that he was funny?
Times after that, he called her when he was seeing a movie. She never hesitated to show up. They would always sit next to each other and share a small popcorn. Sometimes, a candy bar.
They would whisper loudly and he would poke fun at the characters while she would defend the heroine's actions.
She always went home smelling of butter. He always went home with a smile.
The first time she called him, he could tell it wasn't the same. She never set the timings.
So he wore his grandfather's scarf and actually shaved before he left the loft. She came in wearing her favorite shoes.
He took her hand and she looked anywhere but at him because she didn't want him to see the small smile that formed on her raspberry lips.
He paid for her ticket and tried to calm his shaking hands to no avail. She untangled herself from him for a moment to get the popcorn.
They met each other back in the dimly lit theater and smiled lightly just as the movie began.
He still moaned about how stupid the characters were being and she retorted that everyone is that stupid, sometimes.
The teasing smile on her lips vanished when he became quiet. She turned, breaking one of their unsaid rules, to look at him, only to find him staring at her. His eyes were blazing and she felt they were too bright and brought herself to look back at the film – just in time to see the final kiss. She blinked and found her way back to him.
She licked her lips and he leaned in and they were kissing, to put it simply.
Nothing changed, mostly. Well, except for the kissing. He really liked the kissing. And even though she would never admit it, she did too.
"Where are you all the time, B?" Serena questioned one night.
She shrugged her shoulders and made up an excuse, all while keeping an eye on Dorota, who was smiling wisely from her bedroom door.
That night, she went to sleep with guilt in her stomach.
When she woke up the next morning, she'd decided that it was over. Done. It was just the Brooklyn kid anyway – who cares?
(Turns out she did.)
She entered the cinema, hands clasped tightly together. She tells herself that it was just nerves, but really, it was probably because she didn't want him to take her hand.
(It might've made her weak.)
She heard the door open and she turned around, looking at him.
He came in, grinning, and leaned into her for kiss. Her head went left, and he ended up kissing her cheek.
He still paid for the popcorn, but even after the movie started rolling and the lights went down, she didn't reach for the bag.
They were watching one of her favorites, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and what a shame, she thought, something sad had to happen during this movie. But it had to happen.
"Dan," she said.
He turned and looked at her, startled. She never really said his name, except for now. "Blair?"
"This needs to end."
He blinked. He didn't really know what to say, but he knew that it was coming.
"Why?" he whispered.
She was silent for a long time, and finally, she answered, "Serena asked me why she hasn't seen me lately. I didn't know what to tell her."
The reply came from his mouth almost instantly. "Tell her."
"I-" She closed her eyes. On screen, Paul and Holly were having a falling out.
"I can't," came out her gargled response.
He looked back at the movie playing. Paul was telling Holly how they were right, just right, together. "They're like us, you know."
"You're Holly and I'm Paul and you're running away, when you shouldn't."
"Don't," he told her. "Stay."
Blair stood up. She couldn't bear to see the final kiss when she wasn't going to get one.
He stayed seated.
"I'm leaving," she told him, waiting for a response. When she didn't get one, she clacked her heels out of theater number four.
Just as she was about to open the door, she heard him declare, "I'm not going to run after you."
"I don't want you to," she quipped. She didn't turn around. Neither did he.
When she left the cinema, it was pouring. Even she had to smile at the irony. Inside, he would be watching Paul chase after Holly in the cold rain.
She swallowed thickly and raised her hand to hail a taxi. A yellow cab came skidding next to her, at the moment, she didn't even care that the cabbie got gotten water on her new trench coat.
She had mumbled off her address when the other side of the taxi door opened and a panting Dan Humphrey slid in, just before the car sped off.
"What are you doing?" she wondered.
"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."
"But you said that you weren't going to-"
He kissed her before she could say anything else. When he pulled back, he said, "I had to. I had to come after you."
She bit her lip, not knowing what words to speak.
He talked, instead. "You belong to me, Blair. And I belong to you. But either way, we belong to each other."
She grinned a bit. "I can't believe you just quoted Breakfast at Tiffany's to me."
He kissed her again, and through the raspberry, he tasted the rain and salt, and Blair. She whimpered when he stopped.
"So?" he queried.
"So…" She didn't really have any words for him.
She knew the words he wanted to hear with frightening familiarity – even if she hadn't spoken them. Ever. She bit her lip again and looked up at him. He was wearing his grandfather's scarf again, and water from his hair made their way to his lips.
"Why?" She asked him this time.
"I want-" He closed his mouth abruptly, mulling over his words. Finally, he said, "I need to hear it." He pulled her hand to him.
And it was like something clicked, because she shouted a quick, "Stop!" to the cabbie, and dragged Dan out with her.
It was still raining, but instead of casting misery, the clouds seemed to be radiating happiness.
He was wringing his hands, but when she pulled him closer, he stopped, and stared at her.
She kissed him, hard. And all she could think was that she loved the rain, and he smelled like butter, and he ran after her. He ran after her, dammit.
She squeezed his shoulders and stepped back, finally saying what he needed to hear.
"I belong to you."
so this is my first GG fic: but if you review, it won't be my last. I've wanted to write a Gossip Girl fic for a long time, and after seeing the D/B chemistry, this just wrote itself. Most of this was based loosely around Breakfast at Tiffany's, but know that I don't really agree with the phrase "I belong to you". It just kind of wrote itself in, so what can you do? Sexy pick-up lines go to Drey (you're the Jesse to my Andrew, babe) and Malli (baby, you can vandalize my wall anytime you like) who edited this and who simply deserve a dedication.