Fic: The Kind of Christmas That Doesn't End in 'Party' (Gossip Girl, Blair/Serena, PG-13)

[scurvyknavery]

Originally posted 1 January, 2008.

Title: The Kind of Christmas That Doesn't End in 'Party'
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Challenge: yuletide 2007
Recipient: danceprincess20
Word Count: 2,146
Pairing: Blair/Serena
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The point is, the joint Waldorf-van der Woodsen Christmas Day skating trip has some very serious traditions, and they're not to be taken lightly.
Notes: Thanks so much to epshlan for the beta.

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

The rules, when it comes to skating, are simple. And the first one is rigid and unwavering: no boys allowed.

Shockingly, that one was actually Serena's idea.

Because as much as Serena loves doing things with boys - flirting with them and punching them in the arm and leaning into them when she's drunk and she wants a nice, warm something to lean on - they just don't have any business going ice skating with her. Not when she and Blair have been going to Rockefeller Center every Christmas Day since they were old enough to stand up on skates by themselves. And the problem with bringing boys (or with letting them come, if they happen to be the ridiculously thoughtful kinds of boys who ask to do things with you) is that they think they need to be, you know, men.

They want to pretend they're the athletic ones (even though ten years of figure skating lessons mean that Blair and Serena can out-skate them with their eyes closed), and have everyone play along. Or they want to skate arm in arm, and bring hot cocoa when Serena's not ready to stand still and Blair doesn't want to have to worry about trying not to spill cheap powdered chocolate on her new wool coat, and honestly? It's a bit of a drag when all either of them want to do is skate.

(If Serena's totally honest with herself, she's really glad it's a rule, because she's sort of freaking out about this whole "Christmas with a boyfriend" thing as it is, and she needs some things to not change.)

Of course, when Serena and Blair made the rules for the annual skating trip they were both six, and they sealed the deal by spitting into their palms and shaking on it, but whatever. The point is, the Christmas Day skating trip has some very serious traditions, and they're not to be taken lightly.

And rule one, obviously, is no boys allowed.

+

"So how'd Dan take it?"

Serena looks up from lacing her skates, hair half-covering her eyes. "How'd Dan take what?"

"When you told him he couldn't come." Blair says in her best 'what are you, challenged?' voice, jabbing shapes into a pile of snow near the edge of the ice with her toe pick.

"Oh, um, I don't know." She tucks her hair behind one ear, sloppy because she's still got her gloves on. "Okay, I guess?"

"What do you mean, you guess? You were there, right?"

"Yeah, I don't know, he was just. . .very Dan about it. It was cool."

"Meaning. . .?"

Serena shrugs in a way that pushes her hair back into her face, shy for probably the most consecutive seconds since Blair's known her. "Um, meaning I told him, and then he did that cute thing where he puts his hands in his pockets, and, you know. . ."

"Oh, honestly."

This is why they don't bring boys.

+

The second rule is that neither of them are allowed to bitch about the weather. The whole point of winter is that it's supposed to be cold.

If anybody asked Blair now, she'd probably spin some bullshit about how the cold weather was important for making the spiritual warmth gleaned from the powerful experience of winter sport seem all the greater, particularly in times troubled by the looming threat of global warming. (But that's just because she's been working on college admissions essays all month.)

And maybe, in a way, it'd be a little bit true.

But mostly it's because she only ever goes skating on Christmas with Serena, and there's something about the way she is, that just does things to Blair. If Serena complains about something - really complains about something, with her lower lip stuck out and one leg locked at the knee like she's just finished stomping her foot - Blair can't ever brush it off. And because Blair can't not cave and go inside early once Serena starts suggesting it, it's a rule.

No complaining about the weather. Not on Christmas.

+

"So," Serena says, out of nowhere. "Tell me about your summer vacation. You never told me if you went anywhere cool."

It's code for 'I'm cold,' Blair knows it is. And she didn't get to go anywhere this summer, what with her dad running off to France, which Serena definitely knows because the first thing either of them do when they get back from somewhere is check the old posts on Gossip Girl. But it's Serena. And Blair's pretty sure the important thing here is that she's still keeping with the spirit of the rules. (That and the way she's smiling down at Blair, silly and hopeful while she double-knots her scarf tighter against the wind.)

"I don't know. My mom dragged me to Singapore, which barely counts. But the beaches were okay, I guess."

She's making the whole thing up, and they both know it - Serena's been to Singapore way more times than Blair, and neither of them can quite keep from giggling once Blair starts telling ridiculous stories (lies) about hotel staff she's never even met. But it's about thinking warm thoughts, because that's what Serena needs, and even if it's a little six years old of her to want help imagining away the cold, Blair doesn't really mind.

After all, it's Christmas.

+

The third rule is, of course, no gossip.

Looking back, they probably should have made it rule number one.

+

"So hey," Serena says, bumping her with her elbow. "How are things with you and Nate?"

Blair just smiles - sort of coyly, she hopes - and tries to swallow down that vague, unshakeable guilty feeling she gets whenever she thinks about that thing with Chuck, despite the fact that it was never anything worth the guilt. "I'll tell you after."

+

The fourth rule is that Blair's in charge of bringing the candy canes.

(The fact that candy canes are absolutely necessary is so obvious, it's not worth being a rule.)

But Blair's always in charge, because Eleanor Waldorf is the kind of woman who hosts Christmas parties, while Lily van der Woodsen is the kind of woman who attends, and that means that Blair's house is always stocked with candy canes and Christmas crackers and enough gin to knock out a small army for the entire month of December.

Serena's mostly in charge of eating them.

+

Somehow, on Serena, sucking on candy that turns your whole mouth red and vaguely sticky isn't unattractive.

Instead it's disgustingly, effortlessly sexy.

(Not in a way that Blair actually finds sexy or anything. But looking at Serena, with her mouth stained red-dye pink and her lips slick and freshly-licked as she bites down on the very last half of the very last candy cane, it's hard not to understand why everyone wants to sleep with her.

Objectively speaking, of course.)

"Is that the last one?"

Serena's eyes get wide for a second, and she smiles. "Maybe?"

"Come on, I haven't had any yet." Blair smiles back. "Pig."

"Oh, wait, wait, no. I think I have some left."

Serena opens her mouth wide, and sticks out her tongue to show Blair the last little stub of candy, stripes all sucked off. For a split second, Blair thinks about taking her up on the offer.

+

Rule number five clearly states, in wobbly red crayon, that they should hold hands.

(This one was sort of cooler back when they were kids, and they hadn't figured out how not-so-ambiguously gay that kind of thing was.)

But they've been doing it long enough now that it's tradition, like secretly scoring the department store Santas against each other and sending the results to Gossip Girl, or hanging sprigs of mistletoe in the elevators of the Palace, so whatever. It's just not something you question.

+

"Hey, S," Blair says, shifting to skate backwards in front of her, but never letting go of Serena's hand. "I'll race you."

Serena doesn't even reply - she just goes, and Blair spins around to follow.

They race together, weaving between and around the obligatory snuggling couples and children learning to skate, and the feel of icy air coming fast enough to take Blair's breath away is clean and shocking and familiar.

When they get to the boards at the end of the rink and the fingertips of Serena's gloves touch wood just a half-second sooner than Blair's, she can't do anything but roll her eyes and let Serena giggle and bounce on her toe picks in victory. Besides, she barely won, so it's not like there's really anything to celebrate.

And anyway, Blair's not really upset. Serena's fingers are still tangled together with hers - she never let go the entire time.

So it's not like it was much of a race.

+

The sixth rule was actually invented fifth, but it's rule number six because it absolutely has to go at the end, or the rules don't make any sense. And rule number six is this: the day ends with real hot chocolate.

The sit-down kind that comes from a hotel bar, with actual, unsweetened whipped cream and tiny chocolate sprinkles and so many calories a single cup could kill a man. The kind Blair never, ever lets herself have unless Serena's teasing her into it, and maybe half the fun is in the fact that it's almost illicit that way.

Except, not in a way that makes Blair one of those weirdos who tries to replace sex with food (especially not now that she's actually had sex, and learned that it's nothing like eating chocolate at all, no matter what people say), or anything.

Just - in the deliciously satisfying way that comes with Blair knowing that she's managed to sneak something Eleanor wouldn't approve of at all into an activity she encourages. And in the way that comes with chocolate sprinkles and two pairs of boots carefully eased off and hidden under the table, Serena's sock feet resting against Blair's.

+

Blair's just about to take her first sip, when Serena puts her hand over Blair's cup. "Wait, I forgot."

"Forgot what?"

But Serena's too busy rummaging through her purse, fiddling with something that sounds like it comes in a plastic wrapper, which. . .could be anything. But - even though Blair really wants her annual, incredibly unhealthy apres-skate dessert now - she's willing to stare sullenly into her cup while Serena finds whatever she's looking for. At least for a few more minutes.

"Here," Serena finally says, and presses something into her hand. "I found one last one."

It's half a candy cane - the straight half, which is obviously the best part. Blair grins, and drops it into her cup, watching Serena do the same with the infinitely less desirable bent half.

Candy cane stir sticks aren't part of the rule, but they do make everything taste a little bit better.

+

There is no rule seven, not really, but there is a tradition. The kind of tradition that's so longstanding, so firm, it's practically a rule anyway.

After they finish their hot chocolate, they go to Blair's house. And they always, always, watch a Christmas movie. (Always, even the year Blair was obsessed with Breakfast at Tiffany's.)

+

"So," Blair says, easing herself down onto the floor and opening the doors to the TV stand in her room. "What do you feel like this year?"

Serena flops face-down onto the bed, leaning over the edge so that she can look over Blair's shoulder at the DVDs. "I'm thinking claymation from the fifties."

"The Year Without a Santa Claus?"

"Mmm, saw it with Dan."

"Van der Woodsen, you hussy."

Serena just giggles and reaches for a pillow to throw at her. "What about Santa Claus is Coming to Town?"

Blair wrinkles her nose. "Ehh."

There's a long pause, while they both stare blankly at the player. "Rudolph?"

Blair just grins. "Rudolph."

(It's never not Rudolph, but they like to pretend some years.)

Serena rolls over and scoots back towards the head of the bed, letting her legs stretch out as far as they'll go and pointing her toes, arching her back like a cat. And when she's done stretching and Blair's done setting up the movie, she moves to let Blair curl up beside her. (And barely spends any time thinking about the way Blair's mouth is as close as it is, because she loves Dan, who doesn't wear Chanel lipstick or smell like jasmine but is still very, very cute.)

Later, while Rudolph impresses Clarice and gets banned from playing reindeer games, Serena shifts a little to watch Blair play with her hair, gently twisting it into braids and combing it out again.

"Hey, Blair?" she says, barely louder than a whisper.

"Mmhmm?"

"Merry Christmas."

Blair stretches up and kisses her on the lips, once. "I know."

+w