Dan lay on the lounger, languid in the morning sun. He hoped his pale skin would start to turn to a nice light brown but he knew he would most likely end up turning bright lobster red by the end of the day, especially since he'd forgotten to slather on sun screen, but he was feeling too lazy to get up and go back to the hotel room. He squinted into the early brightness that managed to penetrate the cheap sunglasses he'd picked up at the gift shop and considered picking up bad mystery novel he'd snagged from a table in the lobby that now lay open to the place he'd stopped reading the night before when he'd found himself drifting to sleep and decided it was time to let his eyelids fall shut and the darkness of sleep had overcome him.

Somewhere in the distance he heard the crowing of a rooster, the rattle of a bicycle as someone peddled down the road, maybe to go work, maybe to go fish off the pier. It was warm already and Dan felt a sheen of sweat forming on his skin. How many days had they been there, he wasn't quite sure at this point.

If he thought Blair had already said 'Humphrey' in every tone possible, he was wrong, and it was the way she said his name with such pleading as she had stood at the ticket counter in the middle of the airport, her hair hanging around her shoulders, her face wiped free of all the makeup caked on for the wedding, her eyes locked on his.

"Come with me."

He would be lying if he said he gave it a second thought, although the responsible person would have. The responsible person might have suggested that Blair turn around and face her problems instead of running away from them. The responsible person might have suggested that a hair brained scheme based on an actress who was infamous for her many divorces might not be the best idea. But she needed him, and he needed her in an entirely different way, so he'd said 'yes'. This was the always being there part of the deal.

Instead he settled himself into the seat next to hers on the airplane and she had allowed her head to drift down onto his shoulder and he sat there feeling her grow heavier as she drifted to sleep, her breathing becoming deep and even.

Getting a divorce had proved harder than Blair had expected. Firstly, they didn't have any money, so Dan used the last bit of funds on his credit card to buy a calling card and called Rufus to ask him to wire them some funds. He had sworn his dad to secrecy, making him the only one who would know were the new Princess of Monaco had disappeared to. Rufus' disapproval had radiated over the crackling phone line as he questioned how far Dan would go for Blair.

"I know you love her."

He did.

"But..."

His role as best-friend-confidant-knight-in-shining-armor was kind of addicting. Dan felt like if she stopped needing him then she would stop needing any part of him, like solace was the only thing she saw that he could offer her. He knew he had so much more, but unless she could see that, he would be left with nothing. Rufus was right but Dan wasn't willing to give what remnant of Blair Waldorf he'd been allowed to hold onto any time soon.

They were stuck in the Dominican Republic.

The days were kind of long at first. Dan would lie on the bed in their suite, staring up at the ceiling as the fan whirled, keeping the room slightly cooler. Blair entertained herself by flipping channels on the television endlessly, barking orders at the maids who came to clean their room and sending back room service. When she tired of that, she would turn her snark to Dan, making fun of the clothes he'd picked up in the gift shop, the perfect compliment to his sunglasses. He didn't have to try to hard to blend in with the locals she snorted, muttered something about being stuck in a banana republic with Dan Humphrey, then threw herself on the bed and started leafing through an outdated tabloid magazine he knew she'd already read about five times.

Ungrateful bitch.

After three days of this, their daily calls to the consulate yielding nothing, Dan decided it was time to get out of the suite and casually mentioned he was going to head into town. Blair glanced up from perusing the room service menu and told him to have a good time mixing with the locals. She would rather stay there.

Have it your way, Waldorf, Dan had muttered and shut the door firmly behind him.

He'd found a guy who rented him a motorcycle. Dan hopped on and soon he was zipping toward the town, wind blowing through his hair, only him and his thoughts. Being trapped in a hotel room with Blair was not everything he'd hoped. Instead of her coming to her senses, she'd retreated further into her Queen B persona, mostly growling at him or making snide remarks. Dan knew this was her protection mechanism, and he tried to smile and take it in stride, but it was nice to be away.

The only good part were the nights. There was one bed in the suite and on the first night Dan had taken the small love seat in the sitting room, the one right by the archway that opened up onto the veranda, where he could hear the slap of the ocean waves as they washed up on the beach. It was cramped and small and the next morning he had felt all twisted up and stiff. The next night he returned to the love seat and drifted off, only to be woken up by Blair standing over him, the I heart NY tee shirt glowing eerily in the dark.

Come to bed Humphrey.

He'd tried to protest, but Blair had grabbed his hand and pulled him of the sofa, then led him into the bedroom. How often had he dreamed of this moment, Dan, Blair, in bed together. She pulled back the covers and he crawled in, then she walked around to the other side and slid in next to him. He'd lay there, not moving, feeling heat radiating off her skin. Then she'd rolled onto her side, tucked her head into his shoulder.

It's pretty fucked up, isn't it?

Her voice was soft in the darkness. He nodded. It was pretty fucked up. Louis, Chuck, the GG blast, her runaway bride act and now the two of them, stuck in a hotel room. He dared to kiss her hair softly and he felt her sigh heavily. Then she was asleep and he lay awake for what seemed like an eternity until he too finally drifted off.

They slept like that every night after that.

He started going into town every day, walking through dry, dusty streets, stopping at a local bar for some rum and beans and rice for lunch. He would bring back small trinkets for Blair; a shell from the beach, a blue-ish tinged rock that reminded him of the sky in the morning, a bathing suit so she could join him at the pool if she wanted. He found a book store that had some worn used copies of old pulp novels and he grabbed a pile. They read them out loud, giggling at the drama and outdated cultural references.

She still refused to leave the room. What if someone spotted her? The paparazzi might have figured out where she went. She didn't want to leave the luxury of the hotel room. She might get sick from the food. He called her a xenophobe. She said it was just too much, that this was not a vacation, that she just needed her divorce and then she could get back. Then on the fourth day of going to town she walked out of the bathroom dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt that read I heart the Dominican Republic, and Dan realized that she'd stooped to visiting the gift shop. He smiled a little. She smiled back and asked him if he liked the tee shirt. he said he did. Then she placed her arm on his, her fingers searing her skin and told him she was coming with him.

Let's go Humphrey.

She wrapped her arms around his waist as they zoomed down the road and he felt her rest her head against his back, felt her hair tickling him as hit blew around. After that they started going out every day, sometimes to town, sometimes down the coast where they would stop at roadside stands to buy sun ripened bananas and papaya, then eat it on the beach, Blair digging her toes into the sand, her creamy skin turning brown from the sun, Dan not quite as lobster red. They would get back onto the motorcycle and she would wrap her arms around his waist again, her fingers sticky, and Dan would wonder what it would be like to suck them clean, or if he would ever tire of feeling her arms around him, or what if he just turned and kissed her right now: all sorts of entirely inappropriate thoughts. He was slowly starting to go a little insane with all her closeness without any idea what the hell they were doing, stuck in a tropical paradise purgatory.

A week went by, then another, and Dan wondered what was happening that kept them their, but every day Blair would call the consulate, get off the phone and tell him there was no progress.

It's not like he really wanted to go back.

Then one night they ended up staying in town later than usual, scooping up La bandera and fried plantains and drinking rum until Dan felt all tingly and warm. That's when Blair had leaned across the table and grabbed his hand.

Humphrey, she started. Then she stopped and stared at him, then started again.

Dan.

She entwined her fingers with his and words spilled out of her mouth. He was wonderful, loyal, had stood by her side during a difficult year, and how could she have gotten through it without him, and now he was here, hiding out with her, leaving his life and writing behind to be there for her yet again, and she could see that he cared for her more than anyone, more than Louis, more than Chuck, and she felt so lucky to call him her friend, and who ever thought they would be friends, after all it hadn't been that long ago that she could only find ways to insult him, but here they were friends.

Blair paused and laughed at the word 'friends' again. Dan stared at her, because her sudden gush of rum-fueled confession was bubbly and out of character, because her voice hummed in his ear and he felt something start to burn slowly in his chest, a heavy sort of heat that made it hard to breathe, and because as she told him what a great friend he had been to her, all he could hear was that he was wonderful, that Blair cared, and all he wanted to do was kiss her. Her hand stayed in his and she smiled.

Just thank you, Humphrey. I don't know what I'd do without you.

They had continued to hold hands as they walked out of the bar into the night, walking slowly, bumping into each other every few steps, and Dan wanted this moment to last forever. They found someone to drive them home, leaving the motorcycle behind to be picked up the next day, too much rum buzzing through their veins, and Blair sat too close to him and put her head on his shoulder as they bounced down the road. By the time they arrived back at the hotel she was asleep and Dan scooped her into his arms and carried her back to their room. Only then did he whisper her name because if he just put her to bed there would be hell to pay in the morning when she realized she'd missed her moisturizing routine.

Dan...

Blair slurred his name a little and reached up to trace her fingers across his cheekbone, along his jawline, just a light touch that sent electric shocks zipping through him and his breath hitched a little. She looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, dark, languid with what he wanted to be desire. After all this time, could it really be she wanted him? Her hand made its way to the nape of his neck and her fingers played with his curls, her eyes went to his mouth and then she muttered her usual Humphrey, but this time it was heavy, slurred, almost a plea.

And that was when he kissed her.