Author: Lauren.

Rating: Rated M.

Character/Pairing: Blair Waldorf, Nate Archibald, Dan Humphrey, Serena Van der Woodsen, Dan/Blair, Nate/Blair.

Summary: Sometimes Blair feels like she's always in between. Nate/Blair, Dan/Blair.

Disclaimer: GG isn't mine. Especially not it's shitty ass more recent seasons. Although I do wish I owned the books.

Author's Note: FU Corona. Enjoy this one loves.

She's drunk.

Well, not exactly. She's that light, stumbly kind of tipsy where one more drink and she'd be right over that line.

But Nate wasn't home and Serena wouldn't pick up the phone. And Fitz was sleeping, his tiny hand clamped on his newest favourite, a plump little owl that Blair had inwardly named Nancy.

So she'd finally uncorked one of those bottles they'd been saving, and one glass had become two and then somehow she'd consumed all of the rich, dark liquid it had contained.

She'd settled herself on the balcony, overlooking the city. Dug out a very old pack of Gitanes from her dresser and suddenly she was holding a cigarette and enjoying the burning sensation in her throat.

She was tucked in on herself, legs crossed, arms folded, smoke curling in tendrils. Then the doors had slid open and there was Nate. Slightly crumpled, but still the most naturally gorgeous person in any room. And she'd turned, and just looked at him without a smile.

"Hey little rebel," he looked tired and he leant his head to one side "Smoking are we?" his tone wasn't judgemental, she could hear the laugh but she couldn't feel it. Stubbing it out, she rose and lost her footing for a second but he caught her. "And a little drunk?"

She didn't respond so he led her to the bedroom, like an over tired child. She let him help her out of her dress.

"Do you want another baby?" the words slipped out so quickly she didn't even know if he'd heard her "Cause I think- I think," she felt maniac. Her heart beat pulsed thinly but fast beneath her skin. "I think I do."

She slid into bed now, naked except from her underwear and folded her arms around herself, feeling cold and suddenly very small.

"Sweetheart, I-" he dragged a hand across his hair, he needed it cutting, she should book that, shouldn't she? "I don't know if-"

"Don't tell me we're too busy," her eyes are shut, shut so tight it feels like they might burst "Don't tell me that you're never at home. Don't tell me that you want to run for office or your Grandfather says no. Don't say that."

She can feel the heavy silence without looking at him. "Blair," he's sitting on the end of the bed, she feels the weight of him as the furniture adjusts "Blair, you know that I-"

And the problem is that she doesn't know. The problem is that they've been moving through this blurriness for so long that neither of them know.

"I love you," she clasps her hands on his, shuffles forward so they're almost nose to nose "But I can't do this. I can't carry on like this. This isn't a marriage Nate, we pass each other by and that isn't- we're too young to-"

"Blair," she can't tell if it's because he's tired but his eyes look wet "I love you too."

He never has the answers and she needs them. She needs something certain when she feels so haywire. "Please," Blair isn't the girl to beg, but right now she feels like the sixteen year old that had wanted, needed him to claim her so desperately she had been willing to give up anything. Her pride, her dignity, her joy. But they were too old for this now. "Please tell me that we can do this. Please Nate." And in that moment, she isn't sure if if she's pleading with him, or with herself. Stick this out, you can do this. It will get better, I promise.

But he just sits there, all handsome and good and God she loves him so much and she'll never feel like this again. And he has no answers so she crushes her lips to his and his body feels so good and his hands feel so good. Let's sleep now.

In the morning he's gone before she wakes up and that's probably better, she thinks. Fitz is happily cooing in his crib so she plucks him into her arms and goes about the early ritual. Bottle, cuddles, coffee. Sitting in the rocker in the nursery as a light breeze plays across her shoulders. Even though they haven't said it, she knows it's over.

There's a gentleness about the city at this time, before everyone is awake, when the streets are still relatively clear. When it's just the birds and the trees and the wind.

Her Mother offers to watch the baby and she takes up the offer with slightly alarming pace. But Serena agrees to meet and before Blair knows it, she's hurriedly consuming a caprese salad and sliding her feet into Manolos.

They arranged to meet at the Palace bar because it felt nostalgic but now that she's sliding out of the cab, it feels sad somehow. The sidewalk is pulsing with bodies, women in tiny cocktail dresses, men still in their suits, ties slightly askew.

Serena is wearing something slinky and beautiful and so Serena. The bar around them seems to be muted as Blair orders a gin martini with extra olives.

"You'll never guess who I had dinner with the other night!" Serena exclaims and Blair pretends to be interested.

"Really, who?"

"Dan."

"Humphrey?"

"The very same."

Anxiety is crackling beneath her skin but she insists that it isn't. Don't tell me what I think you're about to say, please.

"Did you have fun?" the question is loaded and they both know it.

"Plenty." Serena allows the silence to hang as she takes a mouthful of her chardonnay. Blair's desperate to ask but it feels too teenager. Did he ask you to the Prom? "We had a little adult sleepover."
Her stomach twists and burns. "I didn't know you two were even talking." And she didn't, mostly because he'd never mentioned it. He'd never mentioned it in all of the times they'd drunk coffee while he'd played with her son.

"We weren't really. But you know how it is with exes," Serena's eyes are ablaze and Blair can't help but assume that it's with triumph "You and Nate were always the same."

Blair nods because her vocal chords seem to have seized up. The rest of the evening dissolves into an alcohol induced coma, full of tequila shots and dance floors and stumbling.