Chapter Text
“There is no remedy for love but to love more.”
― Henry David Thoreau
The sun beat down mercilessly on Dan and Blair as they pushed their way through throngs of sweaty, flip-flop wearing music lovers — attempting to find a comfortable spot to set up their ground sheet, and enjoy the music festival from a distance.
“I think I’ve truly, truly hit rock bottom this time,” Blair whined, over the heart-pounding thump of heavy bass beats echoing from the massive sound system set up at Central Park. She cringed as yet another sticky, sweat-slicked shoulder brushed past her. Dan slowed down and stopped in his tracks, seemingly satisfied with their location, and began to spread his canvas sheet out on the ground.
“Need I even remind you of why you’re here?” Dan retorted, offering Blair a hand so she could clamber down onto the ground with him. “You’re the one who wanted to get in the good books of your future father-in-law, ring any bells?”
“Well, I wish you’d tell your father that it’s high time he left the glory of the 90s behind and stick to teaching snotty-nosed brats how to play the guitar instead,” Blair whined, swatting a fly away from the Rillettes de Canard platter she’d brought (the platter had earned her a mildly amused look from Dan, who judiciously reminded Blair that they were en route to an indie-music festival, not Dîner en Blanc).
“Heh, better not let him catch you saying that,” Dan ribbed her good-naturedly, offering Blair a swig of his already lukewarm beer. She turned her nose up in disdain, smoothing down her oversized, off-shoulder Lincoln Hawk top (saying a silent prayer as she did, hoping that none of her business associates at Vogue would see her in this hideous get-up).
“Fine. Fine. I’ll be on my best behavior and make an effort to enjoy the…atmosphere and the…music,” Blair managed, flashing the most patronizing of smiles.
“Attagirl,” Dan grinned, nudging her shoulder with his. He was in a loose-fitting, black Lincoln Hawk tank top and beige linen shorts — comfortably sprawled on the mat and looking thoroughly at home.
“Seriously, though. Thanks for coming to this,” he says in earnest, reaching out to tuck a lock of Blair’s hair behind her ear. “It means a lot to me. And I know it’d mean a lot to him.”
Blair’s ruby red lips twist into a smirk, all smug and coy. “I memorized the lyrics to Everytime, you know?”
Dan raised a playful eyebrow, chuckling lightly. “Hey, don’t overdo it — you said you wanted to leave a good impression, not replace me as his favorite child, y’know?”
“Why settle for catfish when one can have caviar?” Blair blinks back innocently at Dan, and he rolls his eyes in response.
The opening riffs from an electric bass guitar and the sweep of indigo spotlights across the outdoor stage mark the start of the first performance. Blair sways to the beat and revels in the music — not forgetting to throw a flirty wink to her curly haired fiancé.
Halfway through the first set, Blair found herself preoccupied with something infinitely more exciting than the music — namely, nibbling and sucking on that delicious sweet spot just beneath Dan’s ear (the one that — without fail — elicits the most delectable hums of approval from the back of his throat).
Indeed, the whole experience turned out to actually be…tolerable. Enjoyable, even.
“Hey, look! They’re up next!” Dan and Blair stop making out like horny teenagers long enough to whoop and cheer loudly for Rufus and his bandmates, even joining in with raucous enthusiasm at the chorus of Everytime.
At some point, Dan yells over the music, “Oh, and don’t mention Lisa to my dad. See that lady to his right, the one with the glasses? They just broke up last week. Again.”
Lincoln Hawk finishes off with their crowd-pleasing hit single, Rosewood. They’re pretty damn good at what they do, Blair has to admit.
After the performance, they meet up with Rufus at a diner near Central Park. The place is buzzing with festival-goers, and it’s a little hard to hear each other over the excited hum and chatter of the crowd, not to mention the Cardi B music blaring in the background.
They each order a milkshake, and a giant plate of fries to share.
“I don’t think I’ve officially done this yet so — Congratulations on your engagement, you two!” Rufus quips, with a tip of his glass and a jerk of his brows.
“Oh! Why, thank you,” Blair lifts her glass to join the toast, her engagement ring glittering subtly under the warm lighting.
“Yeah, appreciate it Dad,” Dan grins, clinking his glass against his father’s. “And I apologize in advance that unfortunately, you’ll be attending my second wedding before you get to walk Jenny down the aisle.”
“And hopefully, the last,” Blair interjects jokingly, which gives both Humphrey men a good chortle.
“I have to admit though,” Rufus began, “I was a little surprised when Dan told me that you lovebirds were dating again.”
“Dad. We’ve been dating for almost two years. You promised you wouldn’t be all weird about this — ”
“I’m not being weird, I was just stunned, y’know? Considering the way you two left things last time around…”
“Well — we managed to work things out,” Dan squeezed Blair’s hand on the table, turning to smile at her. Blair nodded emphatically in agreement, looking at Rufus.
“And I’m glad to hear that,” Rufus grins, taking a loud sip of his vanilla milkshake.
The older Humphrey has a glint of mischief in his hazel eyes as he dips a fry in some ketchup. He looked like he was trying to decide if it was appropriate to say what he was about to say next.
“Y’know, Blair. I don’t know if Dan ever told you this, but you left quite an impression on him early on, way back during your high school days — ”
“Ooh, do elaborate, Mr Humphrey,” Blair leans forward conspiratorially, cupping her chin in her hands.
“Uh…I don’t think Blair needs to know this, Dad — ” Dan laughed nervously, looking flustered. Rufus carried on, wholly unperturbed.
“He said, and I quote — that you were a doe-eyed, bonmot-tossing, label-whoring package of girly evil.”
“Sounds pretty accurate,” Blair arches a perfect brow at Dan. “Kinda rolls off the tongue too, if I’m being honest. High school me would’ve been proud to be described as such.”
“I think he might’ve even likened you to Medusa at some point — ”
“DAD!” Dan’s eyes were wide as saucers, looking utterly mortified while Blair merely stifled a giggle.
Rufus chuckled heartily. “Ok, Ok. I’d better stop tormenting my son before he decides to boycott Lincoln Hawk for life.”
“Gee, thanks for being so considerate,” Dan narrows his eyes indignantly. He then cranes his neck to peer out the window. “Aaand — I’m gonna have to abandon you guys for a bit to find another parking spot, ‘cause I’m double-parked and I see a patrol car.”
Dan rises to stand, dusting off his shorts. “Be nice,” he gives Rufus a stern look of warning, not realizing that he perhaps should have issued this warning to his fiancée as well, given her reputation. They watched as he went out the glass door, the door chime jingling as he left. Blair cleared her throat awkwardly.
“Mr Humphrey,” she looked Rufus straight in the eye, with a gaze that had suddenly turned solemn.
“Please, call me Rufus.”
“Rufus, I — ” Blair hesitated, her chin dipped and lashes lowered. “I want to apologize. For the way I treated Jenny, all those years ago.”
Rufus goes quiet then, his brows furrowed in contemplation.
“Jenny and I — we’ve long buried the hatchet but still…I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. And that I’m not the same person I was in high school or college any more,” Blair continued, her jaw set in determination.
Blair thought back on her notorious past as the infamous Queen B; looking down her snooty nose at the plebeian masses from the top of the Met steps. She and her cronies had basically tormented little J back in high school. Obviously, Jenny was no pushover and emerged triumphant on occasion, but still.
Even putting that aside, Blair later “banished” Jenny from New York for… that incident — something that was barely her fault to begin with, then sabotaged her interview with Tim Gunn. In retrospect, it was clear that Blair’s behavior had stemmed from her own jealousy and insecurities.
“I just — I hope it’s not too late for me to make amends,” Blair shook her head and sighed.
“You’re…not trying to make amends by marrying my son, are you?”
“What?? No! Of course not. I — ” Blair floundered, blinking rapidly. “ — I love Dan. I’m marrying your son for entirely selfish reasons, I’m afraid,” she smiled sheepishly.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Rufus grinned. “And…listen. We all made mistakes in our foolish youth, Blair. I’d already forgiven you a long time ago, but still…I appreciate your apology.”
He stared out the window for a spell, then continued. “Believe me, I've made my fair share of mistakes with Jenny too. I’m thankful that she’s turned out happy and successful, in spite of her…tumultuous adolescent years, let’s call it.”
“Her latest collection is all the rage in Europe now, did you hear?” Blair whips out her phone, showing Rufus the runway photos that Jenny had sent her. He beamed with pride.
There’s a lull in the conversation as they nibble on their fries, and the waiter comes by to refill their coffee. Rufus breaks the silence first.
“Y’know, all of Manhattan knows the story of how I fumbled a catch like Lily Rhodes. I’d convinced myself that we — we never would’ve worked out, ‘cause we were from such…fundamentally different worlds,” Rufus mused, staring at his glass. “So forgive me if I…seem a little apprehensive or skeptical about uh — you and Dan.”
“I completely understand.”
“But— it appears my son is remarkably enamored with you. Stubbornly so, I might add,” Rufus chuckled, his hazel eyes twinkling. “You make him very happy, Blair. I can see it in him.”
“He makes me very happy too,” Blair echoed, smiling fondly.
“I guess what I’m saying is — you two have my complete and unconditional support and blessing. Welcome to the family, Blair,” Rufus breaks into a roguish, charming grin. “I hope you like chili. And boardgames, too — we have plenty of those.”
“Thank you, Rufus,” Blair heaved a sigh of relief. “That means the world to me. To us.”
“Hey, who am I to stand in the way of true love? And this way, at least one Humphrey man finally gets the girl, right?”
Blair nods in agreement, and they both smile as Dan returns from outside, sliding back into his seat at the booth.
The night continues as Rufus shares more corny anecdotes — from Lincoln Hawk’s days as a touring band to some of Dan’s most embarrassing childhood stories.
It was really nice, hangin’ with the Humphreys.
Blair tossed and turned in bed that night, mulling over Rufus’ words. Unable to hold it in any longer, she wriggled over to her fiancé’s side of the bed, demanding answers.
“Humphrey, is your father still in love with your ex-wife’s mother?”
Dan frowned, slightly blindsided by Blair’s absurdly random query. “I don’t know, why don’t you go ask him yourself?”
“Figures. I guess pining runs in the family,” she mused, idly stroking Dan’s curls.
Dan scowls, narrowing his eyes. “Think you’re real funny, don’t ya Waldorf? Weren’t you secretly pining for me all those years too? I know your sordid little secret.”
They tease and jostle each other under the sheets. Which usually leads to — other intimate activities, naturally.
It’s a Tuesday afternoon when Henry comes marching into the kitchen like a boy with a burning, all-consuming thought on his mind.
Blair set aside the cookie dough batter she'd been mixing. She’d been bracing herself for the inevitable — so when the question finally came, she wasn’t taken aback in the least.
“Mom, when you marry Uncle Dan, is he gonna be my new dad?”
Blair walks over, sitting down with Henry by the kitchen counter. “Well, do you want him to be your dad?”
“I don’t know. I feel like he’s always gonna be Uncle Dan to me. Just that he also happens to be your boyfriend. And soon…your husband. I’m still not sure how I feel about that,” Henry appeared pensive, his brows knit in concentration.
“Do you love him?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he replied, nodding emphatically.
“Then that’s all that matters, sweetie,” Blair explained. “Dan also loves you, no matter what — whether you see him as your dad, or your stepdad or your Uncle Dan — it doesn’t change his love for you, or your love for him.”
Henry smiled then, with a warm fondness in his brown eyes.
“And remember, no matter who Mommy marries — I’ll always love you, Henry,” Blair says, pulling him in for a hug.
“More than anything in the entire universe?”
“More than anything in the entire universe,” Blair echoed, beaming back at Henry.
“Even more than Uncle Dan?”
“Oh, absolutely. Just a tiny bit more,” Blair gestures an approximation with her thumb and index finger, then ruffles Henry’s hair. “But don’t tell him that, you know how whiny he is when he gets his feelings hurt.”
December rolls around, and Eleanor and Cyrus are flying back to New York for Christmas — after having spent the last three months at their château in Provence.
“You should pick them up from the airport, Dan,” Blair suggests. “Butter them up a little with your irresistible Humphrey charms,” she smirks, waggling her brows.
Dan — who was huddled on the couch and doing the New York Times crossword puzzle with Henry — bristles visibly.
“I don’t know, Blair…I fear the last impression I left on them as an incompetent cater waiter at your stepdad’s Passover Seder wasn’t exactly stellar, to say the least.”
“Which is precisely why you should make an extra effort,” Blair insists, plopping herself down next to Dan on the couch.
“Sometimes, it’s better to maintain a distance — retain the air of mystery, y’know? And it’s a long drive from the airport to their home, what if they think I’m boring?” Dan protests.
“Boring, huh? Hmmm let’s see, you told me that growing up, your idea of a wild night was eating your dad’s home-made chili and a sudden-death tournament of Scattergories. That ship has sailed a long, long time ago, Dan,” Blair smirks sweetly, stroking his hair absentmindedly.
“You’re so mean, Blair,” Dan pouted.
“And don’t you love it,” she sneered, nibbling at his ear. Dan chuckled lightly, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.
“Fine. I’ll pick them up. No promises on how effective my self-deprecating charms will be on those two though. Some folks are impervious to the Humphrey appeal, shockingly.”
“Well, it worked on me, didn’t it?”
“You don’t count. You’re ass-backwards, hopelessly and irredeemably weak for me,” Dan flashes his obnoxious little sideways smirk — the one he reserves for when he really, really wants to get under her skin.
Blair huffs and rolls her eyes, biting back a smile. “Whatever, Humphrey. Just do as you’re told.”
It’s almost noon on Sunday when Eleanor and Cyrus’ plane touches down at the JFK Airport. Dan is waiting for them at the busy arrival hall, and waves wildly to them from outside the glass doors; already armed with a trolley for their luggage.
They exchange polite hellos when they meet, and Dan expeditiously offers to load their suitcases onto the trolley.
“What a gracious, helpful young man he is — isn’t that right Eleanor?” Cyrus gushed, nudging his wife with his elbow.
“But of course. Daniel here has always been thoughtful and considerate,” Eleanor agrees, absently patting Dan on his back.
The drive back to the Waldorf penthouse proves to be a tad awkward. Dan silently cursed his fiancée for not tagging along (“Mother will have my head if she sees the state the penthouse is in. I’m bringing Dorota there to spruce the place up a little before they arrive. Besides, you guys could use the bonding time. Alone.”)
Dan sighs and drums his fingers nervously against the steering wheel as they’re stuck waiting at yet another traffic light.
“Uh…by the way, Mrs Waldorf. I’m sorry I could only seek your blessings over a Zoom call,” Dan mentions, somewhat sheepishly.
Just before their trip to Rome, Dan had sought Eleanor and Harold’s blessings for their daughter’s hand in marriage — it just seemed like the right thing to do, especially with a family steeped in tradition like Blair’s. Unfortunately, as they were both in France, they had to make do with a three-way video call instead.
“Oh, nonsense. I was pleasantly surprised that you even asked at all, with how you kids are nowadays. It was lovely of you to call,” Eleanor smiled from the passenger seat beside him, and Dan heaved a sigh of relief.
“So, I hear that a Spring wedding is in the works, right Daniel?” Eleanor follows up with a polite inquiry, peering at him severely over the rims of her glasses.
“Yeah, it was Blair’s idea. Springtime befits our desired aesthetic — so she says,” Dan grins, mimicking Blair’s bossy and fastidious tone of voice. “We’ve got the venue and floral arrangements booked and everything.”
“Well, it sounds delightful. I’m glad we don’t have to do things in a mad rush, like we did last time around. We’re getting a little too old for that.”
“And I’m glad I don’t have to officiate the wedding this time,” Cyrus chimes in — with perfect comedic timing — from the back seat.
Their laughter bounced around in Dan’s slightly rundown sedan, as they chattered away about the upcoming nuptials for the rest of the journey.
It seems to take an eternity and a half, but they finally arrive at the Waldorf penthouse.
“Grandma! Grandpa Cyrus!!” Henry yells, as he hurtles down the stairs, grinning.
“Oh sugar, c’mere you! Grandma’s missed you so,” Eleanor cooed, as she pulled Henry in for a hug. “And I think you’ve grown taller again, haven’t you?”
Dan marveled in awe as he stepped into the apartment, impressed with what Dorota and Blair had managed to pull off within such a short span of time.
Bright boughs of holly — sprinkled with glowing fairy lights — are twined down the bannister of their spiral staircase. A tastefully arranged bouquet of Christmas Poinsettias sits in a vase on the dining table, inviting warm, vibrant and rich crimson hues to their home.
Dorota had even prepared some mulled cider and lemon ginger cookies — as evident from the heavenly smells wafting out from the kitchen.
As far as spreading the Yuletide cheer was concerned, the only thing they seemed to be lacking right now, was the Christmas tree.
“Come, mother, have some cookies and tea. Dorota will take your bags to the bedroom,” Blair ushers Eleanor to the living room, winking and mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ to Dan as they breeze past. Cyrus stands near the bottom of the staircase next to Dan; turns to him with a warm and knowing smile.
“You know — I’ve always had a good feeling about you, young man. Ever since Dorota and Vanya’s wedding. We shared a toast with my wife and Blair that day, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did indeed. And thank you for the vote of confidence, Sir,” Dan grinned, pouring Cyrus a glass of mulled cider.
“Please, call me Cyrus. And these headstrong Waldorf women? They need men like us,” Cyrus nodded solemnly and sagely — as though he were Yoda, imparting words of wisdom to a young Padawan.
“Pardon me — ?”
“They need someone who knows when to give them a gentle push. Who knows when to step back; give them space. And who knows that sometimes…sometimes, all they really need is a great, big hug — and our steady, unwavering support.”
Dan stared at Cyrus in a mixture of awe and quiet admiration — then they both looked over at Eleanor, Henry and Blair, who were rummaging through an old box of tree ornaments; animatedly discussing how the Christmas tree should be done up this year.
“You think you can be that man for her?” Cyrus whispered, putting an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. Dan smiled, his heart swelling with pride, love and joy — the kind of feeling one gets when reunited with family.
“Yeah. Yeah — I think I can.”
After all the wedding planning shenanigans — cake-tasting and guest list planning (Blair sneakily swaps the reception seating chart; placing Rufus next to a freshly-divorced Lily), gown fittings and bachelorette parties, even ballroom dancing crash courses (mostly for the groom’s benefit) — the big day had finally arrived.
Their venue was The Garrison — a quaint, scenic inn tucked away in Hudson Valley. Ever since she was a little girl, Blair had dreamt of a romantic outdoors ceremony — an elaborate wedding arch set against a rustic backdrop of lush greenery; adorned with pastel floral arrangements of hydrangeas and peonies along the aisle.
Of course, in her childhood dreams, the groom was always Prince Charming — with sandy blonde hair, and a suspicious resemblance to Nate Archibald — galloping in on his pristine white horse.
“Blair, your prince is out there, waiting for you. Might not be me or Chuck, but he’s out there.”
It seemed like a lifetime ago when Dan had uttered those prophetic words. Funnily enough, whenever she dreams of her prince these days — he’s pulling up in a second-hand Toyota instead of a noble stallion. And out of the car, emerges a rumpled but nonetheless dashing journalist with disheveled dark curls, warm brown eyes, and a sardonic smile on his lips.
Perhaps the best princes hail from the Kingdom of Williamsburg, Brooklyn after all.
Dan and Blair’s wedding had been progressing smoothly thus far. Until now, that is. Because unbeknownst to all, just an hour before the ceremony was due to start — the bride had quietly snuck out of her boudoir…
Blair peered into the groom’s chambers, clutching her silk kimono tight around her shoulders. Dan was in the room, adjusting his watch while gazing out the window. What she hadn’t counted on, was how devastatingly good he’d look in his wedding suit.
Blair eyed him from head to toe, swallowing thickly. His stubborn curls — falling into his brow, as per the norm. The rest of his hair — neat and presentable at the sides and back. His stubble — well-groomed in clean lines that emphasized his beautiful jawline today. His lips and nose — almost too pretty for a man and terribly distracting, as usual. His broad shoulders — in a gorgeous navy suit with a gray tweed waistcoat and silk ivory tie underneath. She looked forward to the prospect of tearing them all off later tonight. Or maybe sooner.
Dan finally noticed that someone was staring at him from the side, and swiveled round to look at Blair. Good heavens, he looks so fucking hot, god I just wanna lick that —
“Why aren’t you wearing your gown yet?” He raises an eyebrow, disrupting Blair’s increasingly salacious and wildly inappropriate train of thought.
“The ceremony isn’t for another hour,” Blair lilts, gently shutting the door.
“You’re not running away, are you? Not that I don’t have unwavering faith in our love, but — you do kinda have a…history. Of being a runaway bride, that is.”
“Don’t be absurd, Daniel. How can I run away when the designated getaway driver is the groom himself?” Blair smirks.
“Fair point,” Dan snorts in response.
“I got nervous waiting in my boudoir. I was hoping you could help to…calm my nerves?” Blair bites her lower lip and bats her doll-like lashes innocently.
She fixes her gaze on Dan as she lets her kimono slip off her shoulders and cascade to the ground; the silken fabric pooling at her feet like a champagne waterfall, revealing her bustier and garters underneath — a pale, shimmery satin with sheer, embroidered lace clinging to her curves at all the right places.
Dan’s chest heaves unsteadily, and he gapes at Blair as though he’s never even seen a woman in his life before — his pupils blown wide; cheeks flushed; a nervous bob in his throat as he swallows thickly.
“Do you like it?” She rewards him with her sweetest, most demure smile; sugar and spice and everything…no, not nice. Definitely more naughty than nice.
“D-Do, do I — ?” Dan splutters, shaking his head in disbelief; hands on his hips. “I think… like — would uh…would certainly be putting it mildly here.”
Blair sashays towards him, hips swaying purposefully with every click of her glittering, bedazzled platform stilettos against the hardwood floor.
“You don’t look too shabby yourself,” she breathed, running a finger along his flawless jawline. “Who gave you permission to look like that, Humphrey?”
“And who gave you permission to look like that?” Dan murmurs in protest, as he grazes his lips against her neck; glides a firm hand along her hips up to her waist, and finally to the small of her back, pulling her in close.
Blair shivers at his touch; nearly melts into a puddle as his lingering, warm breath travels up along her neck. Good lord, the man smells fucking divine. Oh god. Fuck, she’s embarrassingly desperate for him, practically burning on the inside — and Dan’s barely laid a finger on her.
“Fuck, Dan, I’m already — ”
“Soaking wet?” He rasps in a gravelly voice, then swallows. She can tell that he’s about to implode as well.
“And it’s ruining my brand new La Perlas,” Blair pouted.
“One would think that they’re designed to withstand a certain amount of...moisture,” Dan frowns, smoothing out the creases on her silken corset, then cupping her breast lasciviously.
“Interesting. Even you couldn’t make the word moisture sound hot,” Blair choked out, but her words lacked any semblance of conviction.
“We’ll see about that,” Dan breathed, as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, and closed the distance between their lips.
Blair can barely restrain herself from devouring him whole there and then, as she let her eager tongue do the talking while her nimble hands unbuttoned and yanked Dan’s suit jacket away, shedding it unceremoniously to the ground. Neither can Dan, judging by the way he grabs her ass and goes straight for her lower lip, hungrily nipping and sucking at it like a starved coyote.
Before long, she finds herself backed up against the wall — Dan’s body practically crushing hers against it. The terribly arousing positioning of his hardness pressed firmly between her thighs elicits a loud and involuntary moan from Blair; one that — some might argue — was utterly unbecoming of a blushing bride-to-be.
Blair anchors herself by gripping Dan’s shoulders and wrapping one leg behind his torso; grinding up against him desperately, as he feverishly kisses his way up from along her collarbones, to the hollow of her throat, then to the spot just beneath her ear. She can feel his deep moans of pleasure from the back of his throat, thrumming against her skin. It makes her thighs tremble with anticipation. It dimly registers in the back of her mind that her La Perlas must surely be dripping wet by now — not that she gives two fucks about it.
“By the way, Mrs Humphrey,” Dan pants between kisses. “Correct me if I’m wrong but — isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding ceremony?”
“Ooh, thanks for the reminder! I’d almost forgotten about that,” Blair breathed huskily. She made quick work of Dan’s silk tie — liberating him of it — then roughly tied it around his eyes.
“There, all better now, right?” Blair whispers, low and seductive in his ear. Dan’s jaw went slack — the man was too stunned to speak. Which was a very rare event indeed, for a hyper-verbal man such as himself.
Blair then hurriedly got down to unbuckling Dan’s belt. After what seemed like an eternity, his fly was undone and she gently tugs his briefs down to rub her palms slowly over his erect cock; coasts her fingertips along its length. It’s so thick, and hard, and hot in her palms and just the delicious and weighty sensation of it is making Blair’s throat go dry.
“Fuck, Blair please — ” he almost whimpers; his voice going jagged round the edges. Blair watches him arch and writhe in his slightly rumpled shirt, still blindfolded and wet lips parted in a heady mixture of ecstasy and agony. She inhales a deep, calming breath just to contain herself from coming right there and then.
“Yes Dan, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do now,” Blair rasped, and she could hear the quiet desperation in her own voice.
“You’re gonna have to guide me though, be my eyes?”
“With pleasure, Mr Humphrey,” Blair breathed, as she lowered her knickers and guided his tip towards her entrance. Their breaths hitch in unison as Dan enters her.
“Oh, god, Blair that’s — ” Dan chokes out. “You feel so fucking good.”
Blair leans back against the wall, catching her breath and savoring his fullness. She clenches around him and he spills a helpless moan into her shoulder; pressing her harder into the wall.
“Hang on, please — ” Dan drags in a few deep, steadying breaths before the moment passes.
“Ok, I’m good to go,” he pants raggedly. “Are you?”
“Oh for crying out loud, Humphrey! Hurry up and fuck me before I come already!” She keened, a desperate edge to her voice.
“Heh. Alright, alright. You’re one impatient bride, aren’t you?”
Almost without warning, Dan switches gears from zero to a hundred. They thrust together with a mutual urgency; as he holds her firmly in place to keep her from slipping down the wall, and she grabs a fistful of his shirt and waistcoat, roughly and inelegantly.
Dan is practically pounding into her — it’s merciless, and frenetic, and sloppy, and oh so fucking good.
Blair’s breath hitches; her intricately braided hair comes more and more undone; her eyes roll back in her head as each and every thrust goes deeper and deeper. It isn’t long before she’s in the sweet throes of ecstasy, and she lets out a sharp cry of pleasure as the waves of climax wash over her; blissful warmth spreading out from her core to the very tips of her fingers and toes. Almost simultaneously, Dan also releases — with a shuddering, rattling groan.
He collapses against her, thoroughly spent; and they both gradually slide down the wall in a tangle of sweaty limbs, onto the hardwood flooring. They lay there panting for a while, catching their breath.
“Well, my hair and makeup’s officially ruined,” Blair laughed breathlessly, undoing the tie around Dan’s eyes, then brushing his sweaty bangs back.
“Nah. You look perfect to me,” Dan reassured, smiling at her in a daze.
“Not to the two hundred other guests, I won’t,” Blair pouted. Dan chuckled lightly, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“So…did I manage to calm your nerves, Blair?”
“Heh. I lied. I’m not nervous at all, I just wanted to jump your bones real bad.”
“Mmm. I had an inkling that that was the case,” Dan cradles her face tenderly, nodding in agreement.
“Besides, it was my last chance to make love to my fiancé.”
Dan furrowed his brows. “What do you — oh! Oh. Funny, Blair, very funny.”
“I know, right?” Blair beams back. She gets up and hauls Dan back up on his feet as well. “Well, I’d better go freshen up again. See you at the altar, Humphrey?”
“Smell ya later, Waldorf,” Dan grins back.
She wishes she could look back on their wedding day and say that it went off without a hitch, but it didn’t really.
First of all, there was a mix-up at the florist’s, and they delivered lilac dahlias instead of the blush pink peonies she’d ordered. Blair wasn’t too fazed — in fact, it was fitting and beautiful — considering that the gorgeous blooms with their spiral of pointed petals were her step-daughter’s namesake.
Secondly, in almost all of the wedding pictures taken, there’s a visible stain of Blair’s coral lipgloss smeared on the inside of Dan’s shirt collar. Again, Blair didn’t see this as a bad thing, necessarily. Years down the road, she still blushes while perusing their wedding album, as it brings back vivid memories of the rather…intense romp she and Dan had, prior to saying ‘I do’.
Thirdly, Georgina crashes the stage during the string quartet’s rendition of La Vie En Rose, grabs the mike and attempts to make a drunken toast instead. She’s carted off the stage by best man Nate and groomswoman Vanessa, stumbling and slurring loudly. (“I just knew we shouldn’t have invited that two-faced harpy…” “Blair, I told you. She's the one who made me realize how stupidly in love with you I still was, after all those years. We didn’t have a choice, really.”)
Fourthly, Maid-of-Honor Serena was nowhere to be found when she was due on stage to make her toast. It caused a bit of a kerfuffle and commotion as everyone in the wedding party frantically searched for her — only to find that she and Carter were busy making out in the wine cellar. Apparently, all the love in the air had inspired him to propose to her on the spur of the moment — as evident from the amethyst purple Ring Pop sitting atop Serena’s finger — in all its sticky and glistening glory.
Blair Waldorf of the Past would’ve been absolutely livid at her blonde disaster of a best friend — for once again, unwittingly stealing her thunder on Blair’s big day.
Instead, Blair threw her head back and laughed heartily, genuinely ecstatic for her friend. She squealed with excitement and pulled Serena into a tight embrace; with tears shimmering in their eyes.
Blair Waldorf (or Blair Humphrey) of Today had found her center. Sure, she might suffer from the occasional bout of jealousy still. But all in all, Blair was at peace with herself. She was, above all…happy.
And ridiculously happy is exactly how Blair feels, when she walks down the aisle in her Alexander McQueen wedding dress — resplendent and elegant in an off-shoulder, mermaid silhouette draped in ivory satin.
Henry and Dahlia march in first — he’s in a handsome tux, and she’s clad in lace and tulle with a delicate flower crown perched upon her golden locks, gleefully scattering rose petals all around while Henry valiantly ensures she doesn’t veer off course.
Blair follows after, linking arms with both Harold and Cyrus again — but this time, without a shadow of a doubt lingering in her heart; or the imminent threat of a courtroom statement hanging over her head.
As she nears the end of the aisle, the harmonious notes of Moon River from the string quartet swell; the air around them stills — and there is only peace and serenity in her heart.
Dan waits at the arch, the view of Hudson River and the surrounding lush highlands in the distance. Warm rays of sunlight gleam behind him like a glowing halo, as he gives Blair a tremulous smile, and she can see that he’s barely holding it together.
His eyes are earnest and adoring, with a stupidly blissful grin on his face — like he can’t believe that this day has finally arrived; like a part of him still thinks that this is all a dream, a dream that he’s going to wake up from any minute now.
Except it isn’t a dream, and it isn’t one of Blair’s timeless classic films in black and white, and it isn’t picture perfect. But it’s beautiful nonetheless, because it’s them.
They exchange their vows, and slip on their wedding bands for each other — Cartier bands in gold with “Cedric” engraved on his, and “Charlotte” engraved on hers.
When they finally kiss, she’s practically bursting at the seams with joy; heart overflowing with happiness.
She wished that someone had convinced her of this simple truth years ago — back when she was chasing mindlessly after Vanderbilts and lords; Monégasque princes and brooding billionaires.
The truth was — it didn’t matter even if anything or everything else went wrong at a wedding, really — as long as you picked the right groom.
It had taken them a little longer to get here, but still. Blair has never felt luckier or more blessed — as Dan took her hand in his, and led Blair onto the dance floor for their first dance as a wedded couple, and they swayed to the soothing, rhythmic guitar strums of James Arthur’s Say You Won’t Let Go.
As they twirled across the dance floor — laughing and smiling at each other like two lovesick fools — Blair simply knew. She knew that for her at least, the third time was definitely the charm.
Three months after the wedding, Dan Humphrey publishes his first ever children’s book.
It’s a coming-of-age tale about Princess Cassandra, who’s racing against time to defeat an evil, tyrannical dragon that’s been terrorizing her kingdom.
In pursuit of great power, she travels far and wide seeking help — first from a mighty Prince, then from a powerful Sorcerer — but neither were of any help. She even dabbles in Dark Magic along the way — believing it held the key to vanquishing the beast.
At the end of the story, she discovers that she had the power within her all along — and she only had to believe in herself in order to wield the mighty Sword of Mercy. She goes on to slay the dragon — with some help from her trusty sidekick, Herbert the Scribe, of course.
Critics call Dan a “Modern Day Roald Dahl” with a “feminist twist” and lauded him for sending a “much-needed message of empowerment to young girls all over the world.”
When people mention this at the book’s official launch, Dan grins and admits that it wasn’t hard at all to write this particular tale — for his source of inspiration, the brave and beautiful princess, has always been right by his side.
Two Years Later
It’s a long-standing tradition at the Episcopal Academy to hold their annual Spring Fling Easter Egg Hunt in conjunction with the Alumni Fundraiser.
It was at this highly anticipated event that Dan watched on in amusement, as Dahlia and her classmates scurried about excitedly — baskets in hand and searching for brightly colored eggs on the Academy’s perfectly manicured, viridian lawns and hedges.
Henry opted to park himself at the egg-painting station instead, and was painstakingly creating his masterpiece using the smooth, curved eggshell as his canvas. He’s a regular Picasso, that one, Dan thought to himself, smiling.
Dan’s smile faltered slightly when he spotted Blair, perched daintily on a white Wimbledon chair — legs crossed, iced tea in hand and looking off into the distance with a withering glare. A glare worthy of Medusa herself.
Evil glare notwithstanding, his wife was gorgeous as always — tossing back her chin-length, loose waves with platinum ombré highlights, and clad in a floral mini-dress. Dan’s heart did a twirly little backflip as he ambled up to her, deliberately bumping into her knees.
“Hey beautiful, this seat taken?” Dan smirks.
Blair’s eyes snapped away from whatever she was glaring at to look at Dan. “What?” She hissed.
“I can see from the look on that face that my beloved wife has been grievously wronged. Did someone steal your yogurt from the company fridge again?” Dan grinned, parking himself in the empty chair beside her.
“Leave me alone Dan, can’t you see that I’m busy plotting the slow and painful demise of Denise Queller’s mother in my head?”
“As long as it doesn’t involve a felony of some sort, my dear,” Dan laughed. “Besides, what did she ever do to you?” They both glanced in the direction of the Quellers, who were laughing and chatting gregariously with the Headmaster.
“Didn’t Dahlia tell you? Denise is an absolute menace,” Blair whispered. “She had the nerve to invite every girl in class to her birthday party — except for Dahlia!”
“The nerve !” Dan exclaimed, gasping.
“Don’t you even dare to joke about it,” Blair smacked Dan on the shoulder. “Our poor daughter was distraught!”
“But why would she do something so despicable?”
“Apparently, the girls have a long-standing rivalry of sorts. They like the same boy, for one,” Blair explained.
“Ah. I’ve heard about this. Ashton, wasn’t it?”
“Thing is, Ashton gave his Valentine's Day card to Dahlia. Naturally, Denise wasn’t too thrilled.”
“Of course,” Dan shook his head and tutted disapprovingly, as though relationship drama between five year olds was simply par for the course.
“It’s fine that she doesn’t like her, but now Denise has waged war on Dahlia and told everyone in class to ostracize her! It’s abhorrent, Dan!” Blair exclaimed.
Dan’s eyes traveled back to Dahlia. Indeed, he noticed some of her classmates sneaking dirty glances at her before they trotted off, sneering. Observing the poor girl’s disappointed expression, his heart broke a little.
“And can you believe what Denise’s mother said, when I was trying to conduct a civilized conversation with her earlier? She said I was making a mountain out of a molehill ! That woman is unbelievable !” Blair hissed, tossing another look of contempt at the offender.
Dan pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, pondering on his beloved daughter’s plight.
“Our Dahlia will be fine,” Dan reassured her. “Everyone loves her. Even the school janitor’s her biggest fan.”
“B-but! We can’t let that little brat — ”
“We must rise above them, Blair,” Dan cut her off, nodding sagely.
“ — Now is not the time to get on your stupid moral high horse, Dan!”
“Trust me,” Dan smiles as he gets up, giving Blair a half-hearted pat on her thigh. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna check out the fundraising booths.”
“ — the…the fundraising booths?? Hey, this conversation isn’t over, Humphrey!” Blair called out, but Dan was too far away to hear her. She huffed and sat back, folding her arms.
On the drive back home, Blair was still folding her arms huffily, giving Dan the evil eye. “I had a million and one propositions in my head, Dan, if only you’d listened to me — ”
“You do tend to go overboard with your schemes, dear,” Dan replied absently, hands on the steering wheel and eyes trained on the road.
“Hmph,” Blair pouted in admission. “I still think it isn’t fair to Dahlia.”
Dan couldn’t help but smirk to himself a little. “You wanna guess why I was at the booths?”
Blair arched a brow, her interest piqued. “Why?”
“Hmm. Let’s just say that the Quellers are gonna be in for a surprise — when they discover that some kind-hearted Samaritan has signed them up for a year’s supply of gluten-free, nut-free, sugar-free Girl Scout cookies, delivered and billed monthly straight to their doorstep,” Dan replied breezily, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
Blair gapes at Dan, awestruck — her expression caught somewhere between surprise and begrudging respect.
“They’re revolting, by the way. I had the free samples,” he explained. “Apparently, they’re taste-free, too.”
“Dan Humphrey, you — you petty, heinous, conniving man!” From any other woman’s mouth, those words would’ve come off as a string of insults. But coming from Blair Waldorf? Those were compliments of the highest order.
“You realize you’re not the only crazy bitch in this town, Waldorf,” Dan smirks. “Besides, I learnt from the best.”
“I knew I married you for a reason, Dan Humphrey,” Blair beamed with pride. “You really are a natural at this.”
It comes as a surprise to both Dan and Blair, when Henry tells them that his father, a.k.a Chuck Bass has stopped shirking his court-appointed therapy sessions, and has been attending them regularly, even.
Furthermore, Chuck has reconnected with his birth mother, Elizabeth — helping him come to terms with his deeply entrenched, parental abandonment trauma. Henry excitedly shared that just yesterday, he’d hung out with both Grandma Liz and Chuck at the Chelsea Pier Golf Club.
Somehow, hearing this news made Dan’s stomach churn with unease. Although he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
The next morning, Dan watched as Blair trudged down the stairs for breakfast — an hour later than usual. It…couldn’t be, could it?
“Morning, honey,” Dan chirps, masking his unease with a winning smile. “And will it be one, or two for you this beautiful Sunday?”
It’s a Sunday tradition for the Humphrey-Waldorfs: Dan makes his special Sunday waffles, and on this week’s menu is chocolate chip and banana, one of Blair’s all-time favorites.
Blair gave Dan a listless smile. He was fairly certain he saw a grimace flash across her features — before it was replaced with a tired smile again.
“None for me today, thanks,” Blair replied quietly. She nibbled on some plain toast instead.
Dan blinked and paused for a moment, but he let it slide for now. He turned his attention to the two kids — nagging at Dahlia to finish her fruits, then asking them what they wanted to do today. Henry was going to work on his Science Fair project with his classmate Genevieve; Dahlia wanted to see the puppies at the pet store.
“You ok, Blair?” Dan asked quietly, when he noticed that her toast was barely touched. He laid a gentle hand on the small of her back; his growing concern etched on his face.
“I’m just tired,” Blair waves him off, pointedly avoiding his gaze. “Couldn’t sleep well last night.” Dan noticed that sinking, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach again.
It’s a feeling of dread that’s been creeping up on him — a growing suspicion that Blair’s mood today was somehow related to the recent news of Chuck Bass’s rehabilitation.
Later in the morning, Dan finds Blair curled up in bed. He wordlessly lies down next to her — climbing in as stealthily as possible, so as not to disturb her.
To his surprise, Blair rolls over and snuggles into him, nuzzling his neck. Her slightly ticklish and impossibly soft hair smelled comforting as always — like jasmine and bergamot and Blair. He surrendered himself to the warm embrace with a deep sigh of contentment; feeling every last muscle in his body relax.
“Mmm. Thought you were asleep. Either that, or re-enacting a scene from Sleeping Beauty,” Dan murmured. Blair scoffed lightly.
“Where’re the kids?” She asked, tenderly lacing Dan’s fingers with hers.
“I dropped Henry off at Genevieve’s, and Dahlia’s doing a jigsaw puzzle with Dorota now.”
“Mmkay,” Blair replies, burying her face further into Dan’s chest, circling her arms around his waist. “Thank you, honey.”
Dan responded with a terse smile, saying nothing. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t cuddle back either. This doesn’t go unnoticed by his wife.
“Dan? Is something bothering you?’
“It’s nothing,” he murmured, rolling over on his side.
“It can’t possibly be nothing when you’re acting this way. Come on, Humphrey, spill,” Blair demanded, pulling him back to face her.
“It — it’s dumb,” Dan mumbled, burying himself further into his pillow, sincerely wishing it would swallow him whole.
“Try me,” Blair huffed testily.
“Chuck,” he finally managed, then immediately regretted blurting it out.
“What about him?”
“He’s…changed. He’s a good man now.”
“So?” Blair’s brows were scrunched up, looking utterly perplexed.
“So — I…” Dan trails off. “Look, it’s just my insecurity rearing its ugly head but — I was worried that you regretted choosing me. The waffle-making, dumbass journalist who’ll never make the Forbes List in his entire lifetime.”
He sighed; chewed on his lower lip in hesitation. “I dunno — I thought, maybe you wish you’d stayed with him. He’s Henry’s father, after all. And you could’ve been the woman who reformed him; redeemed his soul.”
“Are you DAFT, Dan Humphrey? Completely off your rocker? What in the world made you believe that ?!” Blair looked positively livid.
“Hey, you don’t have to yell! I told you it was nothing, you forced me to talk — and now you’re mad ‘cause I told you how I feel?!”
“Well, who’s yelling now ??”
“Well, you started it!” Dan sat bolt upright; fully incensed by now.
“Only because of your preposterous accusation!” Blair shot back, springing up from the bed as well.
They were at a stalemate — glaring and seething at each other in stony silence.
“Well, I’m out. Clearly, neither of us is in the right headspace to discuss this calmly,” Dan snapped, storming out of the bedroom.
It took them all of sixteen minutes and forty five seconds to simmer down.
Dan offered the first olive branch. He gently pushed the study door open, meek and full of remorse.
“Blair, I’m sorry,” Dan’s head was lowered. Even the curls on his head seemed to be drooping. “I come to you bearing a…peace offering,” he smiled wryly, holding up a plate of macarons and setting them down on the reading desk.
Blair immediately cast her book aside; rose up from her plush velvet armchair. She pursed her lips, her eyes soft and forlorn.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said softly, walking up to Dan and taking his hand. “I should’ve acknowledged that your feelings were valid, not dismissed them.”
Blair threw herself into Dan’s warm embrace — at the precise moment that he wrapped his arms tight around her. He strokes her hair; rubs her back for a bit, before Blair speaks up.
“Haven’t you realized that the only time Chuck and I are good people...like really good — is when we’re not with each other?”
Dan remained silent, resting his head on Blair’s.
“We brought out the absolute worst in each other, Dan,” Blair pulled back and gazed into his dark, woeful eyes, firmly reiterating her opinion.
“And I just — ” she sighed, clasping his hands in hers. “My heart is yours, silly. All of it, and then some. I thought I couldn’t love you more than the day we got married but — I do. I love you so much that it never crossed my mind for even a second that I should’ve stayed with Chuck. I guess that’s why I got so mad.”
“I know,” Dan said quietly, reaching out to caress her cheek. “And I love you, more than I could ever imagine. That’s why I’m sorry. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Blair’s lips then curved into a small, mysterious smile. “There’s something I want to show you,” she whispers, leading him to a chest of drawers tucked away in the corner of their study. It was a vintage chest — all tarnished brass and faded oak — and it certainly had seen better days.
She unlocks the chest with a brass key, and fishes out one of her mint blue, Tiffany lock diaries — the ones she used to write in religiously, rain or shine.
“This seems almost sacrilegious, Blair. Like I’d be a sorcerer going down the path of no return if I opened these…Forbidden Tomes of the Dark Arts,” Dan raised a suspicious brow, eyeing the diary with apprehension. Blair rummaged in the drawers to retrieve even more volumes — each meticulously labeled with the year and month. They were starting to form a towering, precarious stack on the desk.
“Har-har, Dan. I assure you that it’s more Bridget Jones’s Diary than The Necromancer — you certainly won’t have to worry about getting struck by an unforgivable curse,” Blair deadpanned, rolling her eyes.
“I was hoping,” she continued quietly, running her hand along the spine of the diaries. “That by reading these, you’d understand a little more. About …how much you mean to me,” she blushed faintly, unable to look Dan in the eye.
Before he could reply, Blair settled herself down in an armchair; promptly flipping the diary open to a page marked with a blue post-it tab. She cleared her throat primly, before beginning to read out loud.
“8th October, 2005. At Kati’s party, I saw this boy making googly eyes at Serena. Haven’t seen him around in school before. How surprising — yet another hapless, innocent boy has fallen under the van der Woodsen spell. It’s a shame, because he was rather fetching, with the most beautiful, soulful eyes, like a young Gregory Peck. That is, if Gregory Peck dressed like a hobo and had an appalling buzz cut — ”
“Excuse me, is this supposed to make me feel any better?” Dan interrupts, looking unimpressed.
“It gets better, ok?” Blair snapped.
“I must say I’m quite flattered, though. I only noticed you telling Serena that Kati had just puked on her Prada, or something. Didn’t realize you were ogling me then, Waldorf,” Dan smirked.
“Hmph. Well, I’m not planning to read all of them out loud so…Help yourself, will you?”
Dan took a deep breath, and started perusing the other volumes that Blair had fastidiously marked out with brightly colored post-its…
8th May, 2007
You would not believe the turn of events this week.
It started off innocuously enough; promising even — when Serena suggested to my mother that I should model for her upcoming photoshoot, and Mom actually agreed.
Of course, after yesterday’s shoot, Mother deems me inadequate (no surprises there) as the face of her latest clothing line, and — get this — replaces me with Serena, of all people.
I gave Serena a piece of my mind of course, before storming off to wallow in my own misery.
Except that that cretin Dan Humphrey wouldn’t even leave me in peace. He insisted on sitting next to me (eww), telling me some sob story (double eww) about how he couldn’t tell his mother how he really felt about her not living with them.
Having said that, perhaps I should thank him some day. Thanks to his aimless ramblings masquerading as advice — I at least got some closure with my own mother. I hope someday he gets that with his mom too.
I’m reluctantly starting to understand why Serena is so enamored with that buffoon. Something about that openly caring, bleeding heart. Something about those beguiling eyes, staring into your soul.
Not my type, though. Definitely not my type.
25th June, 2009
Today was Dorota and Vanya’s wedding. Their otherwise joyous matrimony was completely marred by the recent turn of events of course — being that Chuck tried to manipulate me into sleeping with his uncle to get the Empire back. I’m not sure what was worse, the fact that he’d manipulated me, or the fact that I was completely prepared and willing to do it. Sometimes it scares me — the depths of moral depravity that I’ve become willing to sink to.
Humphrey — bless his clueless heart — actually came by and asked if I wanted to dance. Serena always says he’s terrible at dancing, but I don’t think he’s half bad. I mean, his robot dance was almost passable — not implying he should audition for America’s Got Talent anytime soon, though.
Or maybe I just didn’t notice how bad it was, because I was laughing SO hard at those ridiculous faces he was making.
Humphrey said I deserve someone who makes me happy. How I wish he was right.
14th February, 2010
Well, Chuck Bass has done it again. I thought his pursuit of Raina Thorpe was nothing but an elaborate ploy — purely with the intent of saving his company from being acquired by Thorpe Enterprises. But today, I’ve seen for myself that Chuck’s actually developed feelings for her. I don’t know why I expected things to be any different this time.
I can’t believe Humphrey was there to witness my utter humiliation. But instead of mocking me — like he should’ve, the sentimental fool actually tried to hold my hand to comfort me.
We did end up watching Rosemary’s Baby together tonight though, over the phone. It’s a flick that I normally would much rather relish in solitude, but surprisingly — it’s also admittedly enjoyable with a certain Brooklynite’s incessant prattling and running commentary in my ear. It’s not the worst way to spend Valentine’s Day, I suppose.
Dan pauses and looks up, brows furrowed in contemplation. “But …there must’ve been way more entries about Chuck, right?”
“Maybe, but…they were mostly furious or sad, or both,” Blair explained, shrugging nonchalantly.
“Not the bits about you, though. You make me incandescently happy,” she beamed, cradling his cheek. “For the most part, that is.”
“Blair Cornelia Waldorf…were you harboring a secret crush on me? Even before our internship at W ?!” Dan looked incredulous.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Blair protested petulantly, flicking Dan on his forehead. “But…you didn’t go unnoticed, that’s for sure. It's just…you belonged to Serena first. So I never allowed myself to see you in…that way.”
“Well, I’m all yours now. Now and forever more,” Dan whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. He then sighed, closing the diary shut.
“Blair, I — I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”
“Glad you finally realized. And if you think for even a second that I’m ever leaving, you can think again. You’re stuck with me for life, whether you like it or not, Dan Humphrey,” Blair regarded him with a slight pout, narrowing her eyes with indignation.
“I know, I know. You’re here with me, that’s all that matters.”
“I’m here. And on top of that…she’s here,” Blair whispered, taking Dan’s hand and gently placing it over her lower abdomen, her doe eyes shining at him in earnest.
Dan’s brows flew up — his heart stopped in its tracks while his stomach did flip-flops and cartwheels in sheer, wild exhilaration. Did he…did he hear that right?
“…S-she ?” He could only croak hoarsely in response, a slight tremor in his voice.
“It’s just a hunch. It’s far too early to tell the gender, obviously, but my nausea has been much worse compared to when I was pregnant with Henry, so it made me wonder…”
“Oh, Blair…” Dan breathed, pulling her in, tender and achingly slow. He gazed at her in a bewildered sort of awe — the reality not fully sinking in yet. Suddenly, it struck him.
“The waffles — !…That’s why you rejected them! And that’s why you were tired, and acting so — ” Dan groaned, smacking his forehead in exasperation.
Blair huffed, her arms folded across her chest. “I didn’t want to tell you before I did the pregnancy test. Remember how the results were all negative over the past three months? I thought maybe we’d jinxed it.”
“God, I must be the world’s biggest moron…” Dan muttered, shaking his head. Blair stifled a giggle, patting his back sympathetically.
They sat and cuddled in comfortable silence — perhaps already imagining a future with the latest addition to the family; or perhaps still processing the fact that they were going to be parents — again.
“How’re you feeling?” Dan asked softly, taking her hand in his.
“Tired to the bone. And nauseated. Quite awful, to be honest,” Blair lamented, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Tell me what you need, I’ll make a grocery run right this instant,” Dan insisted.
“Just saltine crackers and lemonade, really. I’m not having much luck keeping anything else down,” Blair sighed.
“I’ve heard that sea-bands help. Y’know, those wristbands for motion sickness? Oh, and Vitamin B12 too.”
Blair chuckled lightly, “Whatever you say, Humphrey. I’ll give them all a try.”
“By my calculations, I should be about seven weeks in. I’ll make an appointment with my OB/GYN around week eight?”
“Sounds good. I’ll come too,” Dan murmured, holding Blair tight. He had a fiercely protective look in his eyes — even more so than usual.
“Imagine…a tiny little Blair Waldorf,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “She’d be ordering us around in no time, I’ll bet. She’ll make Daddy buy her tiny little headbands — in every luxury brand and every design imaginable.”
Blair threw her head back and laughed, cradling Dan’s face and kissing his damp cheeks. The poor man was blubbering and rambling; dissolving into a puddle of tears.
“Genetics do work in mysterious ways though,” Blair giggles. “She could have a head full of stubborn curls like yours — and maybe we’d have a wise-cracking bookworm tossing snarky one-liners at us from her crib.”
“A regular Danielle Humphrey then,” Dan shakes with laughter, still sniveling pitifully. He leans over to press a lingering kiss to Blair’s lips, then heaved a contented sigh.
“You should rest now,” he declared, nodding resolutely. “I’ll take Dahlia to the store and get those snacks and supplements for you. And don’t go checking those work emails while I’m gone, you hear?”
“Dan, I’m pregnant. Doesn’t mean I can’t work — ”
“I know how your first trimester was like before. Take it easy till you reach the second at least, ok?”
“Sure, honey,” Blair giggled, smiling into a kiss, and then another.
“Promise me you’ll finish reading the diaries later though?” She gazed at him with imploring eyes. “Else it would’ve been a complete and utter waste of my color-coded stickers and annotations.”
Dan nodded, as he carefully arranged the diaries on the reading desk. “I will, honey. I will.”
28th May 2011
I’ve thought about it day and night, and I’ve decided to follow my heart. It has always been Chuck, whether I wanted to admit it or not. He devastates me, makes me feel vulnerable and weak — but he also brings me immeasurable joy. Only he can truly understand me without cowering in fear of me — in fear of every dark and ugly crevice of my twisted heart. Damaged seeks damaged, I suppose.
I have to go find Chuck now, I know he needs me. Dan asked me to meet him at the Shepherd’s divorce party with an answer. But how could I possibly break the news to him in person? I’m not sure I could say no to those blasted puppy dog Humphrey eyes, if he begged me to stay. No, I’ve made my choice already, and he cannot be allowed to sway me.
Besides, Dan will be fine. He has Serena, after all. Always has, always will.
21st March 2012
Humphrey is currently living in that spare room that Serena used to stay in.
I didn’t realize until now — how much I’ve actually missed him. I miss our late night debates and movies, I miss the way his scent lingers on my sheets, long after he’s vacated the room. I miss his lips; his hands; his voice; the way he looks at me when we wake up in the morning.
I know I have no right to, given the way I left him high and dry.
Even so, I miss him. I miss him even as Chuck’s engagement ring weighs heavy on the chain around my neck.
I know I really shouldn’t. Besides, Humphrey’s been nothing but an insufferable asshole ever since the breakup.
But god, I hate how right he is — about me giving him up to let Chuck Bass decide when he’s ready for me. A voice inside my head is screaming at me that something isn’t right. If Chuck truly loves me like he says he does, it wouldn’t matter if he had nothing to his name; or if the nefarious Bart Bass had yet to be vanquished. Why can’t we be together, and then face these challenges as a couple?
But it’s too late to ask all these questions now, because…I’ve already made my choice. I’m all in — I have to be.
Dan and I were just a brief interlude, like a summer breeze — meant to be savored in the moment and then forgotten.
7th Oct, 2020
Today, Dan Humphrey told me that he was still in love with me. That he’d never stopped loving me. I told the idiot that I loved him too. He didn’t hear a word, of course.
One day, I’ll make sure he hears it, loud and clear. Never mind that it’s eight years overdue. Better late than never, I suppose.
Three Years Later
If you asked fourteen year old Henry Bass, he’d tell you that he was a pretty fearless type of guy. I mean, there were only three things in the world that truly scared him, really.
One, vampire bats — no thanks to his stepdad Dan, who dared him to watch Dracula under their pillow fort, one rainy night when he was eight. Obviously, not the wisest choice in hindsight.
Two, clowns scared the living heck out of him. He had his best friend Gareth’s 5th birthday party to thank for that one — Zippo the Clown’s routine had traumatized him for life, truly.
Now, number three was the thing that truly, truly made him shake in his boots; struck fear into the very core of his heart. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned — especially when the woman in question was his mother, Blair Waldorf.
And it was this fear that Henry was starting to feel right now, as he stared blankly into his baby sister Evelyn’s playpen — and discovered that she was nowhere to be found.
“Dahlia! Where is she??!” Henry exclaimed, starting to feel his blood run cold.
“Isn’t she in her playpen?” The sassy eight year old didn’t even look up from her nails — she was adding purple sequins to them for that little extra pizzazz.
“I left the house for five minutes, Dahlia, five whole minutes!!” Henry screeched.
It was Dorota’s day off, and Henry had been babysitting Evelyn while finishing up his diorama of the Industrial Revolution. Of course, he’d inconveniently run out of craft glue, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to leave Evelyn under Dahlia’s supervision for five minutes while he ran down to the supplies store to get some… …right ??
Dahlia glances over to the playpen then, and utters a tiny "Oopsie."
“This never would’ve happened if you’d been watching her like you told me you would, instead of watching Paw Patrol!!” Henry shrieked, gesturing wildly at the TV screen.
“For your information, I’m watching Miraculous Ladybug & Cat Noir. Paw Patrol’s for smelly first graders,” Dahlia scoffed.
“Not. The. Point. Dahlia!!!” Henry hissed through gritted teeth.
“Chill out bruh, she’s probably around here somewhere. The doors are locked so she can’t have wandered far…” Dahlia starts searching under the table — one of Evelyn’s usual hiding spots.
“How can you be so calm at a time like this ?!? Mom’s gonna kill us!!”
Dahlia shrugged nonchalantly. “Guess I’m just born with it,” she said breezily, trotting off to the kitchen.
“EVELYNNNN!! Where are you??” Henry started yelling. He stopped at the safety barricade before the stairs. Hopefully, that two year old Indiana Jones reincarnate hadn’t clambered over that safety gate…
Moments later, Dahlia emerged from the kitchen, cheese puffs in hand. “Watch and learn, noob,” she snickered, tossing her blonde tresses back.
She shook the packet loudly, calling out, “EVEEEEE-UH!! Come get your puff-puffs! I’m in the kitchen!!”
Sure enough, there was a rustle and a creaking sound from the study — as the intrepid toddler crawled out from the lowest shelf of the bookcase, laughing and giggling.
“Oh, thank god,” Henry heaved a huge sigh of relief, as the curly-haired, doe-eyed toddler trooped happily into the kitchen — helping herself to the big packet of puffs her sister was offering.
Evelyn was found — and not a moment too soon — as they heard the front door creak open. It looked like Dad was home, too.
Dan Humphrey examined the trail of crumbs on the kitchen floor — turning first to Henry and Dahlia, and then to a grinning Evelyn, who immediately toddled towards her Daddy for a hug.
“Umm…not too sure what happened here but — I’m not gonna ask,” Dan chuckled, wiping the cheesy crumbs off Evelyn’s rosy cheeks.
“She wanted a snack,” Henry shrugs, laughing nervously. “We all did, heh.”
“Well, thanks for watching her,” Dan grinned, ruffling Henry’s hair. “And how’s that diorama coming along?”
“It’s uh — going, I guess,” Henry chuckled. “I’ll show you later, I even installed blinking LEDs on my steam locomotive.”
“Yeah, it’s about time to get ready for that family photoshoot now, huh?” Dan takes a glance at his wristwatch. “Mom’s got everyone’s outfits all picked out and color-coordinated already.”
Dahlia groaned, throwing her arms up in the air. “Aww maaan. I wanted to pick my own outfit.”
“It’s just for this photoshoot, darling. Besides, don’t you trust your mother’s taste?”
“Fi-ine,” Dahlia pouted, clomping up the stairs to her room to get changed. Henry does the same.
As Dan is helping an uncooperative Evelyn put on her navy, nautical-style pinafore, Blair bustles into their bedroom in a flurry of tweed and Burberry.
“Ah, you’re home at last,” Dan grinned. “I think the kids should almost be ready.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry honey, we had that Tommy Hilfiger ad campaign meeting and it ran way, way over time — ”
“It’s ok, Blair, breathe,” Dan holds her gently by the shoulders and gives his frazzled, beautiful wife a peck on the cheeks. “Take your time to get ready, and we’ll leave when you’re done — sound good to you?”
Blair grinned back, a warm sparkle in her eyes. “Sounds perfect,” she said.
It’s a bit of a miracle that everyone’s ready and waiting near the doorway in about a half hour or so — looking debonair for the boys, and elegantly sophisticated for the ladies. Even the free-spirited Dahlia adored the classic, yet chic silhouette of her cerulean shift dress — complete with a pearl-embellished Peter Pan collar.
Blair beamed at her three wonderful children as they filed out the door — all so different, yet so beautiful in their own unique ways. She sometimes wondered what she could’ve possibly done in her past life to deserve them. She could only conclude that she must’ve been a goddamn Saint.
“You coming, Humphrey ?” A warm, baritone voice breaks Blair out of her reverie.
Dan is at the doorway and looks over his shoulder, extending a hand out to her — a teasing smirk on his lips.
Blair takes his outstretched hand, grinning as they stepped out into the sunlight. “You bet, Humphrey.”
Once upon a time, the world was not yet ready for a Humphrey-Waldorf friendship.
But as for the Humphrey-Waldorf family? The world of today welcomed them, with arms wide open.
~FIN~