Title: then one day you'll wake up and she'll be home

Characters: Dan, Serena, Blair.

Rating/Word Count: T/779

One Line Excerpt: He leans in and kisses her to make sure she's real and not just a dream that the bottle of patron he drank conjured up.

Notes: written in one sitting. All mistakes are clearly mine. I've been having a serious block. This is well...you guys know how things come out when you've been on having writer's block.


She's gone with two words, I can't.

Sloppy and looped on a torn piece of paper from his printer, with a smudge of something on the right bottom corner.

(he swears it's a tear, or makeup, or something Serena. Something she's damned to leave behind)

Her perfume is imbedded in their jersey sheets, floral and musk and lavender. And the sheets are tangled in her wake. Her closet bare except for a few sweaters and odd ends, out of season footwear and her least favorite ball gowns.

He looks down at his shaking hands, his wedding band gleaming in the moonlight.

Dan exhales, breathes in her perfume left behind and doesn't cry.

He looks at her note, looks around the room, on the bedside table, the counter, the dresser. Her ring, he expects to find, disregarded.

To his surprise, it's something she takes along for the ride.

He doesn't write for forty-seven days. He counts them. Long and winding full of black coffee and angry outbursts and coffee mugs thrown against the wall.

"I'm sorry Humphrey." Blair says, cashmere sweater wrapped tight around her.

He peers over the mantel, fingers a photo they had taken together, snuggled up close, a scarf thrown over both their shoulders, snowflakes in their hair.

Dan exhales, glances back at Serena's best friend.

"You know where she is." A statement, not a question. He bares his eyes into Blair as she bites into her bottom lip.


"Tell her I love her, alright?"

He spins the gold wrapped around his finger and Blair nods.

"Of course I will."

There is nothing left to say, only silence.

On the forty-eighth day he tares the sheets off their bed and washes them.

He writes one word.



His heart beats.


He sips coffee absentmindedly and thinks about leaving their apartment.

He doesn't though.

Winter turns to Spring.

He feels like that guy who loves the girl named Summer.

He dreams of it. Sun in her hair and sand on her skin and salt in her mouth. Summer and sunshine and his name being sung from her mouth.

He hates everyone. Writes bullshit to keep his editor happy.

(at least you're writing something)

And fucks Blair often enough to keep his mind straight.

We shouldn't be doing this and you love her and this means nothing

But when Blair is underneath him he closes his eyes and lets her unfold against him.

Both their wedding rings gleam in the darkness.

He wonders sometimes if his wife still wears her's.

She sends him a post card.

I miss you.

Postmarked London. No return address. She writes her name as Serena Humphrey.

He bites down on his lip before shredding it into a thousand pieces.

The summer stretches out into a hot humid mess.

Blair's stays naked in his bed and he opens the windows of the apartment and let's the summer stay for awhile.

I miss you, he writes back. I miss the way you laughed against my skin and the way your eyelids fluttered when you were dreaming and how when i'd kiss you you'd kiss me right back.

He writes the letter, folds into an airplane and sends it burrowing through the streets.

Blair calls out to him, sweating, hair a mess.

He fucks her until the whole city hears her call his name.

At night when Blair goes back home to her husband he wonder's if he's really lost her.

He smokes a cigarette and imagines her breath hot against his skin.

Flicking the ashes, he wonders where she is in that moment. If he ever crosses her mind.

He prays that one day he'll know.

She is everywhere.

He cannot live a moment with out his heart breaking in her absence.

His eyes flutter open and beside him lay a figure with blonde mess covering her face and steady breath exiting her lungs.

Her wedding ring gleams in the moonlight, her hand on his hip.

He leans in and kisses her to make sure she's real and not just a dream that the bottle of patron he drank conjured up.

She wakes up and laughs against his mouth.

"Baby," she breathes and sweeps her tongue across his mouth.

"I'm sorry."

Dan sighs into her skin and breathes her in. Floral and musk and lavender.

"You're real?"

Serena snuggles into his chest. "I missed you so much, I'm so sorry. Dan I..."

"Shhh." he says places his index finger up against her lips. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."

And he kisses her silent.