Author's note: Thanks for the reviews, and keep them coming! They motivate me to continue.

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Four Things Make Us Happy Here

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Health is the first good lent to men;

A gentle disposition then:

Next, to be rich by no by-ways;

Lastly, with friends t' enjoy our days.

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Robert Herrick

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Serena had come to feel, ever since she had reaped the consequences of her ill-advised dalliance with Nate, that betraying a loved one is possibly the worst crime a person can ever commit. She had become fiercely protective of her small circle of chosen friends—as Blair had once been, when she dubbed them "the non-judging breakfast club." And so it angered and saddened her that the non-judging breakfast club had disintegrated because the heart and core of it—Blair—had abandoned all of them for Chuck. Or so it seemed to her; for the few times Blair made time to see her, it was obvious that her thoughts were elsewhere, except when the conversation turned to Chuck, as it often did. Blair had only spoken to Dan once until that disastrous dinner. And the greatest assault on the breakfast club was, of course, Nate's complete exile from it. All for the sake of Chuck! This seemed bitterly ironic to Serena, since protecting Blair from Chuck had been the reason, after all, for the regrouping of the non-judging breakfast club in the first place. A small, nagging part of her insisted that Chuck had been a member of the original club, too, before it had been turned against him—but Serena quashed that thought with some discomfort.

She was on her way to one of Blair's favorite restaurants, where a breakfast club (sans Nate) reunion was scheduled to occur. She was happy Blair was making an effort to stay in touch again, but she couldn't help but wish that Nate had been invited in place of Chuck.

"You're having drinks with Chuck," Serena told herself severely, "and you have to be polite. Even if he isn't. Which he won't be."

After being on the receiving end of a very severe telling off from Blair (which occurred after Chuck had confessed to Blair that he'd had a fight with Serena), she was in a mood to be polite and tolerant. Hell hath no fury like Blair Waldorf when pissed off, she thought to herself grimly, rewording the phrase she had read on Gossip Girl.

She shook out her golden mane and took in a deep, calming breath. She had reached the front door; bracing herself, she opened it and sauntered towards the bar. She could see the silhouettes of two teenage boys, both with dark hair, both with their backs turned to her. She paused behind them, undetected, curious to hear what they talked about when alone together. She knew she had a moment to observe silently; she and Blair were supposed to arrive together, but Blair had doubled back to pick up her blackberry, which she had forgotten on Serena's bed.

Chuck was staring at Dan. "You talk too much," he said. "Didn't you know, as a writer, that you're supposed to practice economy in language? Every word you use should be essential and necessary to advance the plot of the narrative. Or, in this case, the flow of the conversation." He paused to order a drink, and then finished sternly, "The first thing a good writer knows is to avoid wordiness and redundancy. And for god's sake, stop stammering so much, it's off-putting."

Dan rolled his eyes. "I always stammer, Chuck. I'm incapable of forming coherent, non-excessive sentences. That's why I like to write, as opposed to speak."

"Because your writing is non-stammery?" asked Chuck, amused.

"Well, yes," said Dan, trying to maintain some dignity. "My prose does not stammer. It is lucid, engaging, eloquent--dare I say engrossing?"

"Positively titillating," smirked Chuck. "Whoops, I meant 'scintillating.' Excuse the Freudian slip. "

"Doesn't 'titillating' mean 'sexually arousing'?" asked Serena, sliding onto the stool next to Dan's.

"Glad to see you've been studying for the SAT," said Chuck. He paused to look around him. "So you got here, finally, does that mean Blair's here too?"

"Right behind you," called Blair's voice.

Chuck flashed her a rare smile; glowing inside, she sat down next to him, and he leaned over to flick an errant strand of hair out of her eyes.

"What did we miss?" Blair asked rather breathlessly.

"I was just disputing Dan's authorly talents."

"Authorly' isn't a word," said Dan crossly.

"Didn't Shakespeare coin words all the time?" inquired Chuck, hardly containing his mirth.

"You're not Shakespeare," Dan muttered darkly.

"And you are on a par with Shakespeare?"

"No," Dan sputtered, "of course n—"

But Chuck interrupted him as if he had not spoken. "Prove it," he demanded, with a theatrical sweep of his arms. "Prove to me that you do actually possess a talent for writing."

"How?" asked Dan, his cheeks rather red.

"Make up a poem on the spot," suggested Chuck. "About—" he looked to his left—"Blair. Come on Humphrey, I know that you're in an improvisational comedy troupe that meets twice a week after school."

Dan sputtered. "It looks good on my résumé—"

"I don't care about your stupid club, Humphrey," said Chuck, grinning. "Go on, I dare you."

Dan thought for a moment, then tossed back a shot of tequila.

"Here goes," he said, and shook out his head as if to clear it.

"There once lived a young lady named Blair," he began after a moment, "who had style and wit to spare—" he paused.

"She killed freshmen without a care," offered Chuck.

"Without so much as a toss of her hair," Dan continued with a wicked smile, "so all freshmen had better beware!"

Blair snorted into her drink. "A toss of her hair?" she mocked. "That doesn't even really make sense. Not up to your usual standards, Humphrey."

Dan continued, undeterred.

"If a freshman forgot her station,

Or threatened Blair's reputation,

She would dig up some dirt on that pour soul,

Utter destruction her sole goal,

And find their dark secret to tell,

Then drag that freshman down into hell."

"Too many syllables in the last line," Chuck critiqued.

"Oh, shut up," Serena admonished. "Don't be so nit-picky. That was great."

"Very Shel Silverstein," Blair drawled.

"Oh, Blair," Dan declaimed,

"You are so unfair!

But I would not challenge you--

No, I would not dare--

I just cower, I have no power,

Under your withering glare.

Oh Blair,

You are truly beyond compare--

You fill your enemies with despair,

And they had better take care,

For you will harm them beyond repair.

So imperious upon her throne,

The whole upper east side she outshone,

To no one was she unknown,

And when she grew angry,

The entire school was a danger zone!

Oh Blair,

She rules with an iron fist,

and she refuses to coexist--"

"Enough," interrupted Blair, laughing. "I can't take this anymore. I'll crush you with my iron fist, Dan, if you do not desist, so consider yourself dismissed."

Serena smiled at Blair admiringly; Dan chuckled. Chuck merely smirked and finished his drink.

"I think I'll title it 'The Evil Queen of the Steps,' finished Dan with a theatrical flair.

"I certainly am evil," Blair nodded appreciatively. Trust her to take that as a compliment, thought Serena to herself.

"Did you really just make that up on the spot?" Serena asked Dan, rather amazed.

"Well, okay, fine, I wrote part of it before math class when I was bored," Dan admitted sheepishly.

"Some people," opined Blair, "have far too much time on their hands."

"Well, color me impressed, Humphrey," said Chuck, who had finished his drink. "My only constructive criticism is that you kept switching back and forth between tenses. Also, the meter was off. Do try to be more consistent and grammatical next time you write an epic poem about my girlfriend."

Serena glanced up at him sharply when he said "girlfriend", but made no comment. Blair smiled, pleased.

"I'll do my best," grinned Dan.

"Maybe we should have a statue built for Blair, on the steps, and have that inscribed on it," said Chuck thoughtfully. "Strike terror into the hearts of freshmen everywhere."

Dan, Serena, and Blair all snorted.

"On the subject of annoying freshmen," said Blair when they had all more or less recovered, "please tell your sister, Humphrey, that my mother requires her assistance tomorrow. She's refitting two of the Versace gowns I'm going to wear on the runway next week."

"I'll pass along the message," said Dan.

"You're going to be in a Versace show!" squealed Serena. "I can't get over that! It's so exciting."

"The fashion world won't know what hit it," said Chuck, placing a hand on Blair's knee. She thought she detected a hint of pride in his voice, and she smiled smugly.

"Incidentally, is Penelope back at school?" Serena inquired.

Chuck was silent.

Blair twisted around to look at him. "You did tell her it's okay to go back to school, right, Chuck?"

Chuck remained stubbornly silent.

"Really," Blair rolled her eyes. "And I thought I was the vindictive one--"

"Seeing her around Constance would continually remind me of her existence," said Chuck in the tone of a martyr. "Blotting her out of my memory will be impossible if she's always skulking around on school grounds."

Blair sniggered. Serena frowned at her reprovingly.

"Still," Blair said, collecting herself, "a deal is a deal, Chuck."

"Fine," said Chuck regretfully, and then waved his hand imperiously. "She can go back tomorrow."

He twined his arm around Blair's waist, and she smiled, feeling more light-hearted than she had in months.