Disclaimer: I don't own anything and never will.
Summary courtesy of Dawson's Creek.
A/N: Prequel to Falling to Pieces, but you don't have to read that. This was actually written last Christmas, and no, I have never been sober during the month of December, so this is disjointed and senseless.
Warning: This is Nate/Serena and their marriage. Lots of angst. Too much angst. Language. Don't like slashy vibes? Then this is not for you...Oh pfft, who doesn't like the vibes?
Forevers Not Included: 1/2
2016
She's been in New York for exactly six hours and Serena is already feeling the strain.
The gossip had started, the stares never stopped, and she can't quite remember which Serena she is supposed to be. Definitely not the wild party girl, because when you hit twenty-five most tequila shots done in a night is embarrassing, not an accomplishment. And not the girl in love with her best friend and sister-in-law, because not only did bisexuality go out faster than fluorescents, Monroe was the only one who could pull-off home-wrecking and look how well that turned out for her.
(How 'bout you be the girl who doesn't ruin everything?)
She can't help giving Chuck a bright grin across the table, because he makes the Kennedys look gentle as kittens, but would never use all that Bass' cunning on her. Well, he would, but probably not to kill her.
Probably.
Nate and Blair head to the dance floor, because in Blair's script Nate still gets some lines by mistake. With a flourish of his hand Chuck invites her too. Serena gives him a dramatic simper before taking his hand.
The song is slow and familiar; her body moves and her thoughts don't have to.
She slumps in Chuck's arms, hiding a yawn in his shoulder.
"Better not let Blair see you doing that," he warns ominously.
It was Blair and Chuck's first anniversary. Blair took that stuff seriously and they'd gone all out at the Empire. It's nearly midnight and people are heading home. The dim music and warm lighting is beginning to feel more comforting and less stifling.
"Why do you think I waited till now? And besides I just flew in, Blair can't possibly hold exhaustion against me."
Chuck's look is incredulous. "It's Blair. Of course she can. And you just got back from Texas, so don't use that jetlag bullshit on me."
Serena pulls back, but Chuck forces her to keep moving. "How did you know where I was?" She hadn't told him. She hadn't told anybody.
He just arches a brow. "Do you really want to know?"
A few years ago she would have demanded he tell her, and then she would have yelled and stamped her foot at his underhanded, unwanted, nosiness. And Chuck would be unchanged and unapologetic.
She likes to think she's gotten smarter.
"Not really."
"P.J. Buckley? What the hell were you thinking?" he hisses.
She almost laughs. It's only fair that if Chuck wants to keep tabs, those tabs gross him out. "I wasn't.
"The last thing me and P.J. were doing together was thinking," she adds just to torment him. P.J. was a sweet, uncomplicated relief: rich, spoilt and a bit of an asshole, but he'd made her laugh and sometimes that's enough.
"There are easier ways to get back at Carter."
Chuck just knows her, and his words aren't surprising. "Yeah?"
"Stay."
He leaves her in the middle of the song and shoves Nate out of the way. Blair scolds both of them, but smiles slow and wide as she moves into Chuck.
Nate and Serena are left partnerless in the middle of dancing couples. Once they'd have moved together: natural, magnetic, thoughtless leaves on the wind.
Their gazes meet and there's something huge and uncomfortable in the chasm between them.
They hadn't talked all that much in the last four years. After Blair and Serena, Nate had chosen Chuck and Blair.
Nate's lips quirk downwards and he moves across the tiles.
They sway, his hands rest on her hips and some people could mistake it for dancing.
It doesn't feel any less awkward, but they look it and she's back on the UES so that will do.
"How's Carter?"
"You don't care." And I don't know.
"Nope," he agrees, but it makes them both grin.
"So we're talking again?" She can never leave things alone, can never pretend well enough; it's why home—or the closest thing she has to one—has always felt just a little tight and scratchy.
"We were always talking, S."
It's a lie, but she doesn't call him on it. They dance in silence, bodies as perfectly in sync as always. She makes sure she can see straight over his shoulder to where Chuck and Blair are. (Her eyes will always drift there.)
"Give them a chance," he whispers.
Serena stiffens, but Nate's graceful enough that no one notices. She wished he hadn't said that.
"When you were away...They were almost—" He shakes his head, sandy blond hair reflecting the light. "Give Chuck a chance, a real one, to make her happy. That's all I'm asking."
A chance. She's had so many—people keep on handing them out, even when she knows she doesn't deserve them—she doesn't have the right to deny anyone else theirs.
"How?" She doesn't know how to be here and not be with Blair.
"Well..." He looks a little taken aback. "Where you staying?"
She glances at him in chagrin. She never really thought about it. She turns up and Chuck or Blair hand her a key to one of the Bass suites—that's just the way things went.
"You can stay with me," he offers, almost shy. "We can slum it on the Upper West Side," he teases.
It should be weird: this offer from a long-time friend, sometime enemy, and one-time lover, but it isn't. After a million sleepovers and summers in the Hamptons, it just feels normal. And she needs a little of that and she just knows they'd have fun together.
She flutters her eyelashes. "Well, I do like roughing it."
XOXO
She meets Blair for a late breakfast the next morning. Serena wraps her arms around Blair's shoulders, burying her face in chocolate waves. She feels like crying into Blair's hair and she can't even say why. It's harder to let her go then she wants to admit.
Blair picks at her croissant thoughtfully. She'd been happy with Chuck. It was almost perfect. But just Serena's presence stirs unrest, makes her think that the happiness might have been hollow, because it didn't feel like this. Like everything in the world was just right. Like this moment—looking out at the sunny but cool winter morning, clinging to her best friend's hand from a hard cafe chair—was the epitome of perfection.
"Where are you staying?" Blair sips her affogato, deciding it was a special enough occasion to warrant the million and a half calories.
Serena's smile slips. "With Nate." She forces the smile back on. "Figured as long as I'm here I could keep an eye on him for you." Serena had suffered through numerous hour long tangents from Blair about how slutty-Nate is a total disaster. She's already listened to Nate's voice mail and has to agree that his girlfriends sound a little annoying and a lot dumb.
Blair slips on an icy mask of pleasantry. "Oh, how lovely! I'm sure the two of you will have such a wonderful time together—though I'd make sure he wraps it up, the last blonde bimbo in his apartment was a little rough around the edges. But I'm sure that doesn't bother you."
Serena rolls her eyes, unimpressed by Blair's snipes. "B, it's not even like that. Nate and me are friends," she mumbles through another bite of chocolate and pastry.
Blair's stomach clenches uncomfortably and she pushes her plate away, sickened at the thought of the huge lump of carbs already inside her. "Like the way we're friends?"
The deceptively sweet words hurt the way they were intended. Serena's eyes flash. "No, not even close and you know it."
"I wonder how long that will last."
With a last longing glance at her plate, Serena stands to place a light kiss on Blair's cheek. "Call me when sane-Blair wants to come out and play."
XOXO
They last for exactly three days without having sex.
Serena's in the lounge flipping through Hello!. Her pyjamas and toothbrush are bundled up on her lap; she hasn't done a full invasion of Nate's cabinets yet. The bathroom door opens in a haze of steam and a dripping Nate with a white towel wrapped around his slim hips.
Serena throws her magazine to the side, standing with an exaggerated sigh. "You're worse that a girl, Nate. I could have died out here."
Nate just smirks, roughly scrubbing a towel through his hair. "Then maybe you shouldn't wait till it's time for my shower before you need the bathroom."
She drops her stuff on the bathroom sink, leaving the door open while she pulls her hair into a messy bun. "But I never know I want a shower till I hear yours."
"How inconvenient for you," Nate laughs, walking back into the bathroom. "Need my comb," he explains, reaching around her.
And it's just a look. Barely a glance, really. But of their own will, Serena's eyes travel over his tanned, dripping and very close chest in the mirror. She looks away, biting her lip. When she looks back Nate's grinning impishly.
"What?" she demands, flushing in discomfort.
Nate raises his hands innocently. "Nothing."
They both still, neither one wanting to make the next move. Nate braces one arm on the sink and leans forward. It's just the lightest brush of lips over the back of her neck. Serena shivers, closing her eyes. She knows the game well; it's a subtle touch that puts the ball in her court. She can reach up and fiddle with her hair and then Nate will grab his comb and disappear. And it would be like nothing ever happened.
But she's not that kind of girl.
She arches her throat in open invitation. Without pause Nate's lips fall onto her skin in gentle caresses. His arms surround her waist and she leans against him in absolute surrender. He nips at the base of her neck, forcing her eyes to open and meet his questioning glance in the mirror.
It's a sobering look. They're not fifteen anymore and there's not enough champagne in the world to wash away another one of their mistakes. "Maybe we—"
Because Nate is that kind of boy.
She cuts him off by turning and linking her arms around his neck. His bare skin is so warm even the droplets still clinging to him retain their heat. She captures his lips with hers and he still tastes the same as he did nine years ago. Her fingers slip under his towel and her nails run over him teasingly. "...Should go to your bedroom?" His towel falls off and her hand turns from teasing to demanding. "Good idea, Natie."
Nate looks somewhere between amused and desperate, his body pulled taut as a string. "Yeah, I have those sometimes."
XOXO
Serena's been in front of her laptop for close to three hours when she hears a key in Nate's lock. Her ears sharpen, and when the door opens and the sharp sound of heels crossing tiles follows she doesn't relax.
Blair's in front of her scowling at the poster-filled walls and the lounge covered in clothes Serena couldn't make a decision over. Her scowl only deepens when she sees Serena on the floor in her underwear and white wife beater. She almost says something stupid like that doesn't fit you, but looks away before she can make more of a fool of herself.
Serena tugs at Nate's shirt self-consciously, curling her legs into her chest. "You have a key?" she asks, then winces at her guilt-ridden question..
Blair just stares at her unhappily for a second or two. "Chuck has a key," she replies dryly, knowing every incriminating thought going through Serena's head. She couldn't be sure, not really, but Serena looks like she's about to start hyperventilating. She doesn't know how Serena made it this long without the ability to lie.
Blair takes a last look around the messy apartment, and at Serena in all her ravished glory. In her pumps and Versace she knows which piece doesn't belong. "I've got to go."
Serena gets to her knees, hands clenched so tight her nails will leave marks on her palms. She should say something. She would, but what will make this better? So she just kneels there and listens as the click of heels disappears and when they're gone she goes back to looking for a job and doesn't think about why all the words blur together.
XOXO
She honestly didn't think things were going to be easy. She thought Blair would freeze her out or something. But Blair calls the very next days and invites her and Nate over for dinner.
Chuck shoves a bite of an asparagus in his mouth and looks around the table with mild curiosity. Blair talks constantly and says nothing. But there's no room for someone else to comment. Blair can eat, breathe, talk and never let a second of silence live—it's actually pretty amazing. Serena plays with her food and shoots pleading looks at Blair.
Nate eats happily, apparently unaware of the awkwardness.
Sometime between the entrée and main course, Blair and Serena slip into the next room. Blair is ready for the apology that never comes.
"Do you remember what you use to tell me?" Serena whispers as she pulls Blair close.
"Don't mix Westwood with Gaultier?" Blair feels uncertain, the world is turning and she can't see where it will stop.
"You said this is what we deserved. That you and Chuck, me and Nate—that's the life that was promised us at our over privileged births."
Blair's eyes drop to the floor. That's Upper East Side Speak: the kind of words that slip from her mouth without any confirmation from her brain. She never thought they'd be used against her.
"Maybe this is it," Serena shrugs. "Our chance, you know? Maybe we do get those happily-ever-afters."
"Maybe," Blair repeats. But my happily-ever-after just said goodbye.
XOXO
They're all at the White Party together when Nate takes Serena's hand and leads her towards the beach. He glances over his shoulder, shooting Chuck a boyish grin. Chuck smiles back without enthusiasm, tightening his arm around Blair's shoulders. Already there's an alarm going off in Blair's head, but her hand tightens on her champagne flute and she turns her back on the retreating couple.
Nate leads her to a quiet stretch of beach; it's early and guests haven't strayed down to the water's edge.
"What are we doing, Nate?" She tugs on his hand, but doesn't try to slip away. The sun's beating down unforgivably and sand is slipping into her heeled sandals, but Nate's skin against hers makes it all feel good.
Nate just gives her a Colgate-commercial-worthy smile, his eyes shining with excitement.
He gets down on one knee and Serena thinks about the sand that's going to stick to his crisp white pants. She doesn't hear what he asks, because for a moment she's standing on a Greek beach, and it's not Nate's grin, it's a beautiful smirk, and it's not Nate's cornflower blue eyes she's looking into, but ice-blue ones, shining with love and the barest edge of hope. There's a sapphire ring surrounded by diamonds left on their bed, but Carter's closet is empty.
Then she's back in the Hampton's and it's not Carter in front of her, it's Nate smiling hopefully. And this time doesn't feel like a betrayal of everything they are, everything that they stand for. It just feels easy. So she squeals, flies at Nate too fast for him to react and they both topple into the sand, and there's no more thoughts about white linen and wet sand.
XOXO
It may be the worst thing Serena's ever done, but she cannot get married without Blair by her side. And it's not like she asks Blair to be her bridesmaid, it just happens. It's all scripted—probably a tragedy—there's no other choice.
They go dress shopping and there's missing scenes. Enthusiasm is overwhelmed by uncertainty. Lines aren't said, replaced with drawn-out, uncomfortable silences while Blair pretends to be preoccupied.
Serena never asked Blair's thoughts on the marriage, but Blair tells her with bitter smiles, long glances, and with her mastery of the not-so-silent treatment.
It's just going to be a small spring wedding at the van der Bilt's so Serena picks out a white dress that's just the barest draping of silk. Blair knows that Serena will look beautiful, that the dress will flutter freely in the wind, that everyone will ooh and ah over how the dress was just made for her.
Serena smiles, hesitant but sweet. "How do I look?"
Blair looks over her blackberry, smiling archly. "Underdressed for brunch." She goes back to typing up nonsense notes.
XOXO
The night before the wedding they all stay in the van der Bilt manor and Serena can't sleep. She ends up in the library reading Cicero, who she imagines bored the Roman Empire to death.
Chuck went looking for his wife who disappeared from their bed in the middle of the night. He's not surprised when he finds Serena; he's only surprised that she's not fondling his wife in an abandoned closet.
He throws himself in the chair across from her. "Can't sleep?"
Serena shakes her head with a grimace that was meant to be a smile. "I'm all nervous and jittery."
She fiddles with the edge of her robe when Chuck doesn't say anything, just watches her in that annoyingly knowing way he has.
"What?" she asks, more hostile than she intended.
He raises his brow. "Nothing."
She looks away. "Just say it, Chuck."
"You don't want to hear it."
She looks back with a full glare this time. "What? You think I'm doing the wrong thing?"
Chuck lets out a derisive sniff. "You definitely don't want me to answer that, sis."
He thinks about just letting it go, because it's not going to change one fucking thing, but what's the point of being right when you can't even say I told you so?
"You're going to hurt Nathaniel." Mind-fuck him like you've been doing since we were twelve. "All of us, probably." And I don't know if I can fix it.
She shakes her head stubbornly. "Then what's the right thing, Chuck?"
He shrugs. He can't answer that and doesn't try. Wrong has always been more up his alley.
XOXO
Their honeymoon was perfect. There are no other words. Serena feels sorry for the people who will never spend two and a half weeks on a Pacific island, sipping Mai Tais and having sweaty, messy sex on moonlit beaches.
Nate leaves a month and a half after they get married. He'll be gone for twice that long, working on some midterm election campaign. For the first week she watches every news channel she can, hoping for a quick glimpse of Nate behind Senator Campbell.
She waits for nine days before calling Blair. Blair tries to blow her off, claiming she's had a day booked at the spa for months. Serena laughs with fake delight. Ignoring Blair's tone, she blithely invites herself along.
XOXO
Blair does her best to ignore Serena. The spa treatment wasn't a lie. She needs it more than she can admit. The last month was bad enough that Chuck spent every minute he could at the office and even Dorota did her best to lay low.
Just like always, in one fell swoop, Serena turns their whole world upside down and can't even feign an apologetic expression. They had rules. They might be unspoken, unwritten and unacknowledged, but they were rules, damn it. Blair got Chuck and in return Serena got flings around the world. But in New York she came first. She could deal with Serena leaving whenever the stars aligned, or whatever, but when she was home...that had to be different. That was supposed to be theirs.
And now they had nothing.
And it hurt worst of all that Serena had given up the rest of the world for Nate. Serena had given her up for Nate.
In the sauna Serena shuffles closer. Her hair, damply bundled on top of her head, resembles the colour of honey. Blair focuses on the wispy strands sticking to her friend's face, doing her best not to notice the slightly watering navy eyes.
Serena drops her head onto Blair's shoulder and the brunette tenses under her touch. Serena just stares straight ahead at the stone walls. "Can't you forgive me, B?" Her voice breaks somewhere in the middle. "Even a little?"
Blair sighs, hating Serena's pitiful sincerity, hating the way she falls for it every time. She buries her face in those honeyd locks. "No." Her arms wrap around Serena's shoulder and their bodies slip together. It's perfection. It's home. The only one she can't live without. "Never," she lies.
XOXO
It's weird. To be so crazy in love, with no games, no pretension.
When Nate finally gets home she can't remember ever being this happy. He drops his bags in the entryway, already searching the house.
When he finds her in their bedroom she's grinning like an absolute dork. She doesn't run to him, but it's a close thing. She throws her arms around his neck and he pulls her up so her feet leave the ground.
"I missed you!" she shouts between planting quick kisses over his face.
Nate's never smiled so hard in his life. "Good," he replies honestly, looking up at her as if she's the only thing in the world.
She laughs, wriggling till he puts her down. "We are so lame."
Nate nods seriously. "Marriage has made us totally uncool."
Serena is already unbuttoning his shirt. "'Sif you were ever cool, Archibald."
He follows dutifully when Serena tugs him to the bed. "Then it's lucky I have you to be uncool with, Archibald."
She falls backwards onto the bed and Nate tumbles after her. "Be uncool later. You owe me three months of newlywed sex."
This is what life is supposed to be. Just her legs wrapped tight around Nate's hips and Nate shoving her bra cup down, because he's too impatient to struggle with a clasp.
This is what love is supposed to be.
XOXO
Blair answers the door on a Sunday when her only expected company was Audrey. She can't help returning Carter's infinitely cocky smirk with one of her infinitely contemptuous ones.
She returns to her chaise lounge, unwilling to invite him in or kick him out. Carter trails her with sure strides. Blair gives him a once over, barely suppressing a roll of her eyes at his perfectly cultivated dishevelled look.
He roams around the room, staring at the walls and ceiling as if her home is the headliner of a sideshow.
"What brings you to New York?" she asks lazily, as if the answer wasn't blonde and obvious.
"Can't I just stop in to say 'hi' to an old lover?" He pauses his nosing to give a charmingly lascivious grin.
"Not with my delicate gag reflex, you can't. Where have you been anyway, or do I even want to know?"
"I found an Indian mystic who was helping me to rid myself or earthly desires. Unfortunately he was lacking, because I missed my grande chai lattes," he replies, without a hint of embarrassment.
Blair only forces a yawn; Carter's trustafarian tales are pathetic enough that they need no further ridicule. A discomforting thought is turning over in her head: sure he's been playing at plebeian, but even New Delhi has E!, right? She moves to rearrange a vase of flowers, as Carter stalks around the room like an unruly predator. "I suppose you're here to congratulate Serena and Nate on their nuptials?"
From the corner of her eye she catches the way Carter stumbles, the devastated look he turns her way. With unexpected pity she doesn't even glance at him, just plays with her hydrangeas and keeps her voice light and even. "They're out at the Hamptons, of course. Nate sold his apartment; completely impractical, but you know Serena, I suppose." She turns back only after giving him enough time to pull himself together.
Blair can sense the calm, knows she can weather any storm. Carter might just be the storm she needs. Nate, Carter, it doesn't really matter; she'll always be the last one standing. But Carter was never an opponent. Carter shares.
Maybe someone else would hesitate—would think twice about trying to destroy her soul mate's marriage. But she's come too far. What's you is me. She knows Serena better than Serena knows herself. And she knows the difference between real happy and happy-for-now.
Her mind already twirling through the game, she questions the pawn that fell into her lap, "Do you need their address?" Her eyes give nothing away.
Carter's face is blank, his gaze distant. His lips move into a humourless smile. "Their address would be great."
Blair calls for Dorota to find a pen and paper.
She hands over the folded paper, and, for the barest second, allows the mask to drop. "One more chance: don't fuck it up." She expects a laugh and sarcastic comment, but Carter gives her a long glance, reminding her that there's a sharp mind somewhere under all that feigned bed-hair. He salutes her, address in hand, and an unlikely camaraderie is born.
tbc…
R&R