The Sweetness Will Not Be Concerned With Me (Dan/Blair) PG-13

Title: The Sweetness Will Not Be Concerned With Me
Rating: PG-13 ish.
Word Count: 1092
Summary: Up ten thousand feet in the air is where they meet next.
Characters: Blair, Dan
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything to be safe.
A/N: On account of aragons's birthday, belated as it is. I don't how to write your OTP, Izi, but I gave it a go. Hope you like. ♥ Future/AU.

Up ten thousand feet in the air is where they meet next. After high school, girls named S, and a general sense that the world was theirs for the taking (it wasn’t, but the feeling was nice while it lasted).

Someone checks her boarding pass; Humphrey goes for his carry-on.

Blair? She shrugs her shoulders into the sun upon landing.

And above her an aircraft defies gravity.

-

It wasn't planned, but the coincidences stack up far too well for either of them to ignore.

Her cover story is visiting family. His is finding culture or something other appropriately Dan es-que answer.

Japan is a vast sea of different and not home. Not her first time, but the change hits her anyway as she allows herself time to adjust, take stock, and let go of that breath she didn't know she'd been holding in the first place.

"So." He's uncomfortable, she can tell, but then again, it's him so she waits it out for a complete thought, lets him find composure long enough to do so, and they're sixteen again, drifting between wanting to understand the other and not having the energy for it.

She'll concede just this once. So let's save him the trouble already.

"Let's exchange information, maybe do something, okay?"

He shrugs, but he's thankful for the rescue - not that he'll ever admit he needed it.

-

She's been engaged, broken it off, and found herself falling into bed with Bass wannabes ever since.

They call each other sometimes. Out of boredom, out of curiousity, but it mostly ends there.

She knows, like she knew then, that they're only good for one thing and as much as he cares, sets her separate from the rest of the pack, won't he always be him? (And she her?)

The answer is something she's made peace with, the reality something she's known too long not to accept.

But none of this is either here nor there.

Phone ringing to her right; she tosses out a smile to no one in particular at the name that flashes there before picking up.

"Don't you know how to keep a girl waiting?"

-

"I should've known better. I really should've-"

She cuts his rambling off with a pointed stare and the dance floor opens, beckons for their arrival.

"You'll get your culture later. But right now? Right now, we're dancing."

He laughs, but follows her in place of standing awkwardly in a corner like he used to be prone to (and still is in some ways) and yeah, Cabbage Patch's not half bad. Has less rhythm than her mother, but he's trying and she's always been good (read: fantastic) at leading.

The end of the night comes to them in too many drinks to say, and leaning on each other for support, as they hail for a taxi, barely making it to the curb before someone makes someone else fall.

(She says it was him. He claims it was her. But to the unbiased outsider perspective, they both stumbled in the same moment. She tries not to think of what that means.)

-

It's his idea (of course, it would be his idea), and she comes along because there's only so many times one can hear one's cousin talk about her oh - so fabulous life as an up and coming model.

She's not jealous (that emotion ended with her best friend when they were still locked at the hip). She's just tired.

Anyways. There's a village he wants to go see. And there will be hiking.

And other unsavory activities that cannot and will not be carried out in Prada soles.

"Sorry, I forgot - what are the evils behind staying in a five star hotel again? Was the thread count not to your liking? The masseuse's hands too soft?"

He hardly bares her glance, but she's half-delirious with heat and he knows full well he's pushing one too many buttons at once.

"You'll return to the land of the rich and pampered soon enough. You owe me, remember?"

She does. That doesn't mean she has to be happy about it though.

-

But surprisingly it's not the worst experience ever.

She's accustomed herself to cities, lights, and too much noise, but as different as this is, it's almost like something she didn't know she needed.

Hill tops at their feet, she looks out and searches for what she might've lost along the way.

Nothing in particular, just feelings and moments and knowing where she belonged with more certainty than she can remember now.

He's watching her, but she'll forget to be aware of it.

And in those smattering of seconds, he'd like to think that this is who she was - is, beyond the scope of class, rules, and an unquenchable urge for control in an uncontrollable world.

In any case, it's a nice thought.

-

And maybe it was all together inevitable, maybe things like destiny did exist and maybe this was theirs.

But she's lying on a beach, weighted down by heat and humidity when Dan Humphrey places his palm flat against her thigh, trails the skin there with a touch she isn't used to.

They come together in the middle, her elbows dug into the sand behind her and his bent at her waist.

Lips take to pressing against the opposite pair, and that silly cliche of time and time standing still breathes into her ribs, as she finds no thought to hide behind, no sense or reason to help her through the moment.

"I-" He's stammering and well on his way to do some more. Usually she enjoys seeing him squirm.

Usually.

Arms coming around his neck, she figures he'll be able to fulfill his stutter quota at a later date anyway.

(She'll enjoy it then too.)

-

"I don't know what we're doing."

"Who says we're doing anything?"

Needless to say, she infuriates him and that alone should be enough for him to take pause, to reconsider appeasing impulses he thought he'd never have and the idea of what they are and what they'll never be.

It should, he should, she should. It isn't, he doesn't, she doesn't.

"No regrets." This is her to him, and an exit open if he wants to use it (needs to use it).

Her face slides into blank when he doesn't say anything, but it's her words that spin through the revolving door in his head, and that's what makes him stay, that's what makes him realize the obvious - no regrets is the only way to live.

Decision made, his smile blooms against her mouth, her own racing to mirror it.

-

See they've still got a whole month here.

Answers can wait.

-