someone who has had you on his mind
Dan and Blair. Mostly gen. Set immediately post 4x16.
422 words. PG.
Title is all Bob Dylan. Silly long title, it's practically the same size as the fic.
Summary: Blair wakes hazily, for a moment still caught in a dream and not sure where she is.
Blair wakes hazily, for a moment still caught in a dream and not sure where she is. The room is pitch black around her and she can feel where her tights have pressed into her legs, leaving little scores behind. More importantly, she can feel the warmth of someone's skin beneath her cheek and there's the smell of cologne and -
She sits up with a start, glancing at Dan's computer to see that The Philadelphia Story is long over and the menu is playing the same jaunty tune on repeat. Careful not to wake him, she gets to her feet and tiptoes towards her purse, belatedly remembering she needs her shoes.
"Hey..." His voice, low and tired. "You leaving?"
Blair turns, hands folded and ankles crossed. "Yes. Yes, I was going to."
"It's late," Dan says. He stretches, spine cracking. "You should just stay."
"Stay?" Blair echoes blankly.
"Yeah, yeah." Dan doesn't seem quite awake yet as he settles back into the couch, toeing off his shoes and pulling the nearby blanket lazily over his lap. "Go ahead, take my room. I got the couch."
"Um." She watches his eyes close as he snuggles down, not waiting for her to agree or disagree. "Okay."
She's not sure why she doesn't just leave. Except...well, it is quite late and, nap notwithstanding, she's still exhausted. The idea of trying to get a cab at this hour and then waiting at least another hour if not longer before getting to sleep again...It's unappetizing to say the least.
Blair stands awkwardly in his room for a moment before peeling off her blouse and skirt, folding them carefully and placing them on his desk chair. She pools her tights atop the pile and, last minute, tucks her bra between so it's hidden, strangely embarrassed by the thought of him finding it if he wakes up first. She pulls at a few of his dresser drawers until she finds a shirt, a soft flannel that's too worn to see the light of day (not that flannel should ever see the light of day) but seems ideal for sleeping.
She buttons it gingerly and it feels utterly foreign, even stranger when she sits on his bed, curling her legs under herself as she straightens out the blankets and then slips under them. The shirt smelled like nothing, like laundry, but she's embarrassed to recognize Dan's smell on his sheets. She thinks she might be uncomfortable enough to take hours to fall asleep but she's out in an instant.
Dan and Blair. Mostly gen. Set immediately post 4x16.
422 words. PG.
Title is all Bob Dylan. Silly long title, it's practically the same size as the fic.
Summary: Blair wakes hazily, for a moment still caught in a dream and not sure where she is.
Blair wakes hazily, for a moment still caught in a dream and not sure where she is. The room is pitch black around her and she can feel where her tights have pressed into her legs, leaving little scores behind. More importantly, she can feel the warmth of someone's skin beneath her cheek and there's the smell of cologne and -
She sits up with a start, glancing at Dan's computer to see that The Philadelphia Story is long over and the menu is playing the same jaunty tune on repeat. Careful not to wake him, she gets to her feet and tiptoes towards her purse, belatedly remembering she needs her shoes.
"Hey..." His voice, low and tired. "You leaving?"
Blair turns, hands folded and ankles crossed. "Yes. Yes, I was going to."
"It's late," Dan says. He stretches, spine cracking. "You should just stay."
"Stay?" Blair echoes blankly.
"Yeah, yeah." Dan doesn't seem quite awake yet as he settles back into the couch, toeing off his shoes and pulling the nearby blanket lazily over his lap. "Go ahead, take my room. I got the couch."
"Um." She watches his eyes close as he snuggles down, not waiting for her to agree or disagree. "Okay."
She's not sure why she doesn't just leave. Except...well, it is quite late and, nap notwithstanding, she's still exhausted. The idea of trying to get a cab at this hour and then waiting at least another hour if not longer before getting to sleep again...It's unappetizing to say the least.
Blair stands awkwardly in his room for a moment before peeling off her blouse and skirt, folding them carefully and placing them on his desk chair. She pools her tights atop the pile and, last minute, tucks her bra between so it's hidden, strangely embarrassed by the thought of him finding it if he wakes up first. She pulls at a few of his dresser drawers until she finds a shirt, a soft flannel that's too worn to see the light of day (not that flannel should ever see the light of day) but seems ideal for sleeping.
She buttons it gingerly and it feels utterly foreign, even stranger when she sits on his bed, curling her legs under herself as she straightens out the blankets and then slips under them. The shirt smelled like nothing, like laundry, but she's embarrassed to recognize Dan's smell on his sheets. She thinks she might be uncomfortable enough to take hours to fall asleep but she's out in an instant.