Title: Moments Like These
Disclaimer: GG doesn’t belong to me. Only the story does.
A/N: Written for fun and nothing else.
All those arrows you threw, you threw them away.
You kept falling in love, and then one day.
When you fell, you fell towards me
- Please Don’t Go
He's not quite sure how it begins but he knows how it ends: with him, on the rooftop some abandoned building that's overlooking the entire city and she's to his right, again.
(Dan Humphrey and Blair Waldorf. He could feel the eye rolling and the smirks heading his way.)
It's not funny that she's sad (she's in another fight with Chuck. Fifth time this month, or so she 'said') but he's smiling at the fact that he doesn't hate being here and that she hasn't complained… yet.
He licks his dry lips and glances over at her. She peers up, all doe-eyed, and he swears, he must have a thing for damsel in distress. "Yeah—Blair?" He doesn't call her Waldorf because he's trying to be nice to her tonight; but only for tonight so that it doesn't become a habit of some sorts.
"Thanks." Then she smiles and he mentally slaps himself for thinking that she doesn't look half-bad.
Then they part. There's no hugs. No skin on skin contact. Nothing, just words slipping in between their lips, something along the line of "See you." It's not a promise because neither will wait for a phone call or a text from the other. It's weird; and to most,it doesn't make much sense, but it works. There's no labeling. because they're friends but not really.
A week or two passes before a GG blast hit the airwaves about Chuck's wandering eyes and her lack of trust. He finds her broken by the park: staring off into space with tears that has long stopped running down her face. "Hey," he quietly mumbles into the quiet air as he approaches her from behind. She doesn't look back nor say anything because she's Blair; and showing her tearful face is just something that she doesn't do in front of him. He doesn't mind, not really. "So I've heard…" he curses at himself for stating the obvious. Seems to be something he does a lot these days. "You okay?"
She sniffs then tosses a glance his way. "What do you think, Humphrey?"
When she tries to press a smile to his lips, one that doesn't belong, he wants to reach out and hug her but that might just be asking for a slap to the face so he holds his arms tightly by his side. "I think Chuck's stupid. His voice is annoying and you're way too good for him," he blurts out all at once, noticing that it's not what she asked.
She doesn't laugh, only turning her gaze back to the pond in front of them. "What's with the men in my life and the blonds of their dream?"
He opens his mouth to reply but nothing comes out.
"You probably wouldn't even be here if it's not for Serena," she continues, "which makes me wonder, why are you even here, Humphrey?"
Once again, he leaves his mouth opens. There's no reason as to why he's always where she is and he's never really questioned it either. Just that there's something about her that draws him in but he can't exactly say that so he just shrugs. "Right time. Right place."
"Right," she says, letting her lips curve into a small grin, as he smiles along. "So counting this time, how many altogether have you found me like this?"
He scratches the back of his neck and wrinkles his brows together real hard like he's really trying to recall (when in truth, he remembers each and every time vividly) and finally answers her with, "Too many to count, Waldorf."
She laughs and he never notices how infectious it is; and when she tosses him another glance, his breath is caught in his throat (he blames it on the way the light's reflecting off her face). Truth to be told, it scares him a bit to observe her this closely.
“Relax, Humphrey," says Blair, as if she has read his mind, "I'm not going to bite you." He tosses his head back and erupts in a string of laughter; and they stand together in silence (because the need to fill space with emptied words has never been a problem for them). Somewhere in between saying goodbye, his hand manages to brushes against hers momentarily.