so find me when you want to find me
Title: so find me when you want to find me
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Carter/Serena
Summary: So she asks him why it is they're so easy together. "We're the same," he says simply. "You and me...we're the same."
Word Count: 6,800
Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl.
A/N: This was written for sing_song_sung! Happy Birthday, darling! I hope you have a fantastic day. ♥
The first time she sees him, she's struck by how blue his eyes are. Not blue in the same way as Nate's, or even her own. Blue like...like the floor of her pool in the Hamptons, or like the way they make the sky look in cartoons.
It's freezing out and she's bundled up in a stupid wool coat when she'd really rather be wearing her long, down-filled one, but her mother insisted on this one, this scratchy navy blue one, because it matches her outfit or whatever. Serena doesn't care about that. Matching is stupid. Why can't she just be comfortable? Why can't she just do what she wants?
And why do they have to be at this dumb event anyway? She loves the park, but she'd really rather be inside where it's warm and where she had plans with Nate to drink hot chocolate and watch Home Alone (one and two). She honestly doesn't even know what this event is for and no one's talking to her anyway. That's why she hates these things: She's always required to go, to put in appearances, but no one ever actually cares that she's there.
She stuffs her hands in her pockets and doesn't really pay attention as that guy with the blue eyes talks to her grandmother. She's standing just a few feet away, and she doesn't know why, but she kind of likes the way his cheeks are all pink and his hair's so messy that she's sure his mother is frowning somewhere (she gets that frown a lot, too).
"Serena, dear, this is Carter Baizen," CeCe says, resting her hand on Serena's shoulder. Serena knows that's just body language for 'Pay attention and take your hands out of your pockets.'
"Hi," she says, faking interest. Well, until he grins at her anyway. That seems to get her attention.
"Serena goes to Constance Billard. Maybe you've seen her?" CeCe suggests, turning back to Carter.
Serena likes that name, Carter Baizen. It sounds exotic and interesting, kind of how he looks. And he doesn't take his eyes off her as he smirks and says, "Once or twice."
She doesn't get uncomfortable often, but she's 10 and people are starting to look at her like they have all these expectations of her. She should be used to it, or she should have expected it, but she doesn't want it.
And she's never seen Carter, or she would have remembered it, she's sure. She wants to ask him all sorts of questions, like how she hasn't met him already, and where he came from, or why he looks like he's actually enjoying himself at this dumb party.
"You want to get some hot cider?" he suggests, noticing how cold she looks.
Serena nods, ignores (rolls her eyes at) her grandmother's approving smile, and turns to walk towards the table with the refreshments. He reaches for two cups off the table and hands one to her, and she watches him through her eyelashes as she blows the steam from her cup.
"I'm older than you," he tells her.
"So?" she says defensively. She's not usually so rude, but she's so mad that she has to be here, and he's being a jerk. Maybe.
If he is, the butterflies in her stomach are completely unaware of it.
"I just mean that's why you haven't noticed me."
"Oh," she mumbles, taking a sip of her drink. "Sorry." He shrugs his shoulder and grins, like he actually likes that she's acting like this.
They stand in silence, both observing the adults around them, and when someone has to walk past her Serena moves a little closer to Carter, so their arms are touching. And she doesn't move away, even when she has the room to do so.
He smells like laundry detergent and something musky, and his side is all warm against hers. If he asks, that's what she'll tell him; she's just cold. And she notices that they match, both in navy coats. His pants are grey, and hers are just a shade darker (she told her mother in no uncertain terms that she wasn't wearing a dress in the cold.) His scarf is grey and hers is white.
He points out his parents and explains that he doesn't ever really have to come to these things because his mom and dad travel so much and are rarely around, but since it's the holidays, he's getting dragged to every stupid party there is. Serena laughs and looks up at him (it's rare that she meets someone taller than her; even Nate is the same height). She tells him that she can usually get out of it, but since her grandmother is in town she's being forced.
"You wanna get out of here?" he asks, turning to her. The way her face lights up makes him laugh. "Yeah?"
"We can't! They'll freak out."
He shrugs his shoulder and starts walking away. He turns around to face her, still walking backwards, smiles and says, "So?"
She bites her lip, glances around before looking back to him, and then runs to catch up.
They walk up and down Fifth Avenue, talking about nothing of any importance, really, just school and their families. She tells him all the places she's been to, and he does the same. He grabs her elbow when the 'Don't Walk' sign starts to flash just before she goes to cross a street, and she's biting the inside of her lip so hard she thinks it might bleed, but she just smiles at him.
They spend their entire day away from their families, until well after dark, and it doesn't really dawn on her that she's only 10 and this is probably a bad idea, because she's having fun. And if she's having fun, she's not really one to question anything else. It's not until he walks her home that she starts to worry about how much trouble she's going to get into, and that's only because there's a police car sitting in front of her building and her stomach sinks.
She looks at him and he's still wearing that smirky-smile thing (she's come to really like that) and he shrugs his shoulder. "You're fine. They won't care," he says, and they both laugh because that's so not true.
"I should go inside," she says needlessly.
He surprises her, rests his hand on her cheek and takes a step forward and presses his lips to her forehead gently. "Goodbye, Serena."
"Bye." It comes out a lot softer than she wants it too, and he's smiling as he looks at her.
Vanya comes out, shouting something in Russian or Polish, or whatever it is he speaks, and Serena giggles, hops up on her toes and kisses Carter's cheek, just because, and then runs through the door into her building.
She takes one last look at him, and he's still standing there, hand in pocket and smile on face, looking at her.
She wonders if maybe she's given him the best day in the same way that he's given her the best day.
... ... ...
When she's 13, their worlds collide in a way that scares everyone who knows her. Not because he's Carter, king of St. Jude's and most of the UES underage party scene, but because Serena's now the queen of that scene, or at least the princess of it, learning the ropes. They all think she's spiraling, that's the word Blair uses, but Serena is just having fun, and there's nothing wrong with that, the way she sees it.
And it was just she and Chuck for a while, the two of them ordering martinis at the bar at his father's hotel and drinking until the room spun. They'd go back to his suite and fall asleep together and wake up on opposite sides of the bed with hangovers and a bunch of fun memories from the night before. And that was great. But then Georgina's cousin got a job as a bouncer at a club, and they all started going there instead, and that was when she ran into Carter.
They didn't really keep in touch. He was older, his middle school schedule completely different than her elementary school schedule. And he never did attend any more of those stupid events that she did, save for one or two, but she was admittedly too wrapped up in her best friend or her Nate to really notice him. She caught him looking once or twice, and she'd smile back or offer a wave, but that was it.
And he traveled a lot. A lot. Dubai, Barcelona, Sydney. She heard from CeCe about all the places the Baizens went, and when she asked one time, finally got the nerve to inquire about him, she was told he had a private tutor when his family traveled.
But now he seems to be rooted in New York, and Chuck wonders aloud, jealousy in his tone, if it's just so Carter can rule St. Jude's.
The first time she runs into him, she actually stumbles on her heels a little bit and he braces her with his arms. She doesn't miss, not even in her haze of gin martinis, the way he looks her up and down, his hands still on her waist and his eyes lingering on her chest. It's nothing she isn't used to, but it feels different when he does it, like he appreciates it a little more because it's been so long since he really saw her. She locks eyes with him and thinks it's been too long.
"Hey, beautiful," he says, half smirking at her. His buddy passes him his beer, and he takes it in his hand without ever taking his eyes off Serena.
"Carter."
Chuck appears, standing next to Serena and regarding Carter with a certain amount of distrust in his eyes.
"Chuck Bass," Carter says, finally allowing his hands to fall from Serena's body (she misses them). "Always a pleasure."
Carter watches as Chuck leans in close and says something in Serena's ear, and she just nods and sends him a smile before he walks away. Carter has all her attention. She wants him to. She likes it that way.
She finds that she's missed him. And that she really likes whatever cologne it is that he's wearing. And the way he holds his beer bottle. And the fact that he even drinks beer, when all the guys she knows drink scotch or whatever.
He finishes his drink quickly and sets the empty bottle on the bar, then throws down a $100 to cover his tab. He rests his hand on her hip and leans in. "Wanna get out of here?"
She smiles, lets out a little laugh and nods her head. She finds herself loving that he doesn't hesitate to take her hand in his to lead her out of the packed bar. He looks casual, she notices, wearing just navy slacks and a white and light blue striped button down with the sleeves rolled up and the collar unbuttoned. His hair is shorter than it always was, styled a little bit. He's growing up. He's doing it really well.
She wonders what he thinks of her.
"Your school uniform doesn't do you justice," he tells her once they're outside. He looks her up and down again, and she rolls her eyes.
"You don't even notice me."
"I do," he says, eyes locked with hers. "Everyone notices you."
Maybe that's true, but she finds herself thinking that no one does it as nicely as he does.
She reaches for her phone and he asks her what she's doing. "Texting Chuck. He worries."
"He has the ability?" Carter asks. She shoves him playfully and then hits send. "Who knew?"
"So where are you taking me?" she asks, starting to strut away from him. She's older now, not in need of someone to lead the way.
And besides, people always follow her anyway.
He catches up, slips his arm around her waist and pulls her closer. "I have to take you somewhere?"
She laughs, shakes her head, and he squeezes her a little bit as he smiles. "Maybe not."
"I have a room at the Royalton."
She nods, and they hail a cab to take them where they need to be. He holds her hand, pulls her across the bench seat so she's pressed up next to him, and they talk a little bit about stupid things that don't really matter. He asks about Blair, and she asks about his parents, but both are sore subjects at the moment (she and Blair are fighting, and his parents are on him about pulling up his grades to get into colleges he doesn't even want to go to). As he tells her that Dartmouth isn't for him, she realizes that there's a big difference between 13 and 16. A big difference.
And that's why she's nervous as they ride the elevator up to his hotel room.
She's been alone with boys before, lots of them, actually, but this feels different, because her crush on him comes and goes (it's here now) and it's not like she really knows him all that well. All she knows is that he's older and experienced, and that for whatever reason, her grandmother approves. She's not sure how those two things go hand in hand the way they seem to.
He must sense her worry, because he wraps his arm lazily around her shoulder and kisses her temple, and it puts her at ease, how sweet he can be, how sweet he is with her.
She lays back on the big king sized bed as soon as they're in the room, before the door is even closed, and he comes to lay next to her. He's on his side, one hand covering her stomach as he's propped up on his elbow.
"You okay?" he asks, and she doesn't even look at him as she nods. "You sure?"
"I'm sure," she says, laughing a little, because he's teasing her. When she looks over at him, his blue eyes and his smirk, she suddenly has the urge to be closer. She moves over a little bit so his body is half covering hers, her tucked beneath him a little bit. She closes her eyes so she doesn't have to watch him watching her.
"Tired?"
"Not really."
She should have expected him to kiss her. She should have known he would. But her eyes are closed, and when she feels him moving, leaning over her more, her heart races so much that it doesn't really register what he's about to do. His lips are pressed to hers, warm and soft, and she reaches up and places her hand on his bicep.
It surprises her a little, how much she doesn't want him to stop kissing her. She's kissed people before, but with the exception of just one other boy, she found the whole act to be a little overrated. This is different, too. This is somehow everything and not enough, and the feeling of needing more more more, and his hand on her side beneath her shirt, and his tongue past her lips, and his fingers in her hair.
She doesn't know how long they kiss, but she's giggly and she doesn't think it's the drinks she had. He's nipping at her skin, her shirt is off, and the straps of her bra have slipped down her arms. They're laughing together, saying silly things, all tangled up in one another. She doesn't know why she trusts him so much, why she even likes him so much, when they really hardly know one another.
So she asks him why it is they're so easy together. His head is resting against her chest, almost on her shoulder, and she runs her hands through his hair idly as his fingers toy with one of the belt loops on her Sevens.
"We're the same," he says simply. "You and me...we're the same."
She smiles, leans down so she can kiss him again, then flops back against the pillows. "Maybe."
He doesn't explain it any further, and she might not need him to. Neither can sit still for any amount of time. She needs adventure that she's been creating for herself. He needs adventure that happens as far away from his parents as possible. She wants just enough stability to make her feel wanted, and, though he doesn't admit it to anyone, he wants to want someone, and for whatever reason, any time he's ever been around her he's wanted her. They're both free spirits, or at least that's the label bestowed upon each of them, and he thinks they could do whatever they wanted, and they could do it together, and that'd make them both happy.
But she falls asleep, her blonde hair splayed on the pillow and her pink, kiss-swollen lips pressed together, and when he looks at her he's reminded that she's young. A girl, almost. He was aware of it before, the way her hands stayed above his waist and she didn't rush anything. The girls he was used to wanted to hurry the process along so they could boast that they'd been with him. Maybe it's terrible to think it, but he knows it's the case.
But Serena is different, and he gets the impression that if they were the same age, it would still have been the same story. Maybe. He doesn't know.
He just knows that he likes laying next to her, likes her smooth skin pressed up against his. Maybe he should wake her up and put her in a cab to go home, but instead he reaches for the blankets, pulls them up over the two of them, and opens his arm to her when she moves a little closer.
... ... ...
He's a legend at the boarding school she finds herself at. He was kicked out of St. Jude's at the end of his junior year for something so awful that the faculty wouldn't speak of it, not even to make an example of him. His parents sent him to Hanover with the threat that if he got into trouble there they'd be sending him to military school.
She sees his face on peoples' Facebook pictures and smiles only because he's him and not because of what he's doing in those moments. She ignores the stories about him sleeping with freshmen girls or teachers, and she thinks that that probably a lot of them aren't true anyway. She laughs at the story of him smuggling weed onto campus using a pizza delivery kid from the closest town as his mule, because she's pretty sure that one is true. Her friends tell her that he managed to talk the dean into giving him a single room because sharing reminded him too much of his childhood, growing up with his horrible brother and having to sleep on the bottom bunk (he claimed claustrophobia). Serena shakes her head, because he doesn't even have a brother, but she doesn't say anything about it because she likes that she's the only one who knows.
She gets through the year with little reminders of him everywhere. His photo on the wall with the polo team, the only sport he played, or his legendary senior prank being talked about as the new class of seniors prepared for their own. The cafeteria staff had loved him, since he was so charming and treated them like they were actual people instead of just 'servants', and asked Serena if she knew him, since they were both from the city.
She can't escape him. She might not want to.
Come June, she writes her finals and packs her things and thinks that maybe the summer in the city is just what she needs. Maybe she needs to own up to her mistakes, to everything, and talk to her mother about finding the one thing she wants to find. She's just about to zip closed her last suitcase full of summer clothes when she hears someone walk into her dorm room.
She turns around and almost can't believe that this person is standing here, one hand tucked into his pocket as he leans against the door frame, smirk on his face as he stares at her legs stemming out beneath her tiny cutoff shorts.
"Hey, beautiful," he says.
She rushes towards him, and he laughs when she throws her arms around him. "Carter," she sighs, her breath tickling the shell of his ear.
He pushes them back into her room and kicks the door closed behind them, though they both know very well that it's against the rules to have boys in her room. She doesn't care, because spring semester is over and her roommate has already left, and there's no one really around who could tell on her.
He kisses her just once before he pulls away from her, and her cheeks are all flushed. He's going to take credit for that whether he deserves it or not. She's got a plain blue tank top on with her shorts, and her hair is in a messy ponytail. Her room is a disaster, boxes and suitcases everywhere. But she's in front of him, and his hands are on her hips. She hasn't asked him why he's there, what he wants, but she decides quickly that she doesn't care.
He tells her anyway. He was just passing through on his way from Boston to New York, and he heard that she'd gone to Hanover. He'd thought he might be able to catch her before she left, and he's glad he has. She pulls him down so that he's sitting on her bed with her. She tells him she's heard all about him from just about everyone at school, and he laughs and says it's all lies, though they both know that it's not. He asks if she saw his polo picture, and she giggles and tells him he looks handsome in Hanover purple, the team's school colour.
"What are you doing for the summer?" she asks, after they've caught up on everything (he's spent the last few months in Argentina, then took a quick trip to Boston to see some friends at Harvard).
"Greece," he answers easily. "Have you ever been?" She shakes her head and he smiles at her, can picture her with darker skin and those pretty Grecian braids in her hair. "I think you'd like it."
"Maybe someday I'll go," she says as she stands.
"Someday," he says.
He never thought she was the type to ever use the word. From what he knows of her, she wants everything, whatever it is that she wants, right now, no waiting. She takes what she wants because people let her, and the idea of her not just doing makes him feel a little uneasy around her, because maybe she's not exactly who he remembers.
He wonders what happened to make her come to boarding school in the first place, knows that unlike it was for him, hers was a choice, not a command. It hits him that now she's the mystery, when it was always he who played that part. It's a bitter taste of his own medicine, because he wants to be able to read her and he doesn't like anyone to be able to read him, not even this gorgeous girl who just gets more and more perfect with age.
He offers her a ride back to the city and she can't refuse, because now that he's here she wants as much time with him as possible. He has his driver come and carry her things, and she apologizes adorably, and Carter wonders who the hell she is to not have inherited her parents' (all their parents', really) penchant for taking, taking, taking and not caring if they ever really give back.
She sits close to him in the back of the limo, her mostly bare legs pressing against his and her arm looped through his. She gets a little quiet when they draw closer to the city, and he wants to ask her what the hell happened to send her off and running, but before he can form the words she's looking at him and biting her lip.
"What is it?" he asks.
"Maybe I could...Can I come with you? To Greece?"
She's so cute and nervous, and if he wasn't staring at her lips, he'd appreciate that more. But a summer in Greece with this goddess sounds like just about his ideal vacation. So he pulls her closer, and she curls against him, and he kisses her temple, her head resting against his shoulder.
"Of course you can," he says.
He tells the driver to go straight to JFK, not into Manhattan, and he uses his platinum card and his last name to get her a first class ticket in the seat next to his.
... ... ...
She leaves because he scares her. Not the police or what happened or them running through old streets with his hand holding hers tightly, or him slipping into her slowly and murmuring things that sound strange and wonderful passing through his lips.
Just him.
They're the same and he knows it, and even if they've never really spent a lot of time together, he seems to understand her a lot more than her best friends do.
She's not quite sure she wants to be known, so she takes the train from Athens to Venice and even though she's very familiar with the feeling in the pit of her stomach, she tells herself over and over again that it isn't guilt.
... ... ...
She holds a glass to his eye, and he looks at her like he remembers everything, every detail, and when he mentions Santorini, she looks at him like she remembers it all too.
He's not a violent person. He's manipulative and 'sneaky' and he schemes and uses people when he wants to, when he can.
But he sees her dancing with her boyfriend and he's never wanted to hit someone more than he wants to hit that guy.
He leaves without saying goodbye and wonders if she'll recognize that he's stealing her move.
... ... ...
"Stop staring," she says, little smile on her lips one morning. She's naked, save for a white sheet covering her, and her hair is a wild mess of blonde against the pillow. She's sweating because Fiji is hotter than almost anywhere either of them has ever been.
She's fucking beautiful and he's having difficulty not pushing her onto her back.
"Can't," he tells her, tracing a star on the back of her shoulder. "It's your own fault."
"How?" she giggles.
"You're the gorgeous one." It may not make a lot of sense, but he's distracted, and pillow talk, he assumes (he's never done much of it), is not meant to be perfectly logical.
She moves closer, tangles her legs with his despite the fact that it's so hot she feels like her skin is soaked with sweat. "You're gorgeous," she argues. He scoffs, so she puts her hand on his cheek and kisses him once. She knows full well what she's starting. That's part of the reason she's doing it.
"It's too hot," he complains.
"So?" She pushes him onto his back and swings her leg over his hips and the sheet falls away. "You can't say no to me, can you, Carter?"
She's teasing him and they're both aware of it.
But no, he really can't.
... ... ...
She leaves partly because he wants her and partly because her father doesn't. Both concepts are terrifying to her.
No one's ever come after her before. Carter shows up with perfect words and sounds so eager, so serious, holds her so tightly, and all she can do is believe him and admit to herself that maybe wanting him back isn't as scary as she's making it out to be.
... ... ...
The thought of him being engaged - much less married - to someone else makes her so jealous she can't stand it. She strips off her clothes and pulls him to her, lets him take her up against the wall and ignores him when he asks what that was all about.
He leaves anyway, walks away when she's got tears in her eyes and she hates him for making her fall for him then leaving her alone like everyone else does.
... ... ...
She tries not to think about him when she's finally in a relationship with Nate, but he texts her once to ask how she is and she spends two days with her head somewhere else, trying to picture him wherever he might be. In all her imaginary scenarios, he misses her terribly and she's very smug about it.
She sends back 'Fine' after three days, and doesn't hear from him again until he shows up in New York.
She's still mad at him and doesn't want to talk to him, and she knows that if Nate finds out she's spending time with Carter it'll be a big, huge argument she really doesn't want to have.
But then there's, "Hey, beautiful," and the back of a limousine and, "I found your father," and as important as Nate is to her, Carter will maybe always be trying to give her things she's never going to admit she needs.
... ... ...
He comes back when her father leaves. She's crying over three men, two of whom apparently want her and one who obviously doesn't, and Carter takes her to his hotel room through the service entrance and tucks her into his bed in her clothes.
"I'm sorry," he says, and he sounds as sincere as he did the day he told her her father was stupid for not wanting her. She nods, turns away from him, and he lays behind her and slides his hand up her arm. "Serena, I'm sorry."
He's making it sound like it's his fault. Logically, he knows it isn't, but there's just always been this blanket of doubt where her father is concerned. He knows what it's like to want to disappear, and if her father wanted to come back and see her, he would have. Carter's told her this before, but she was so hell bent on bringing the man to New York and Carter can't deny her what she wants, what will make her happy. Never mind that most of the things he's done have made her pretty blue eyes all sad and full of tears. Maybe he's apologizing for all of it.
"You don't control him," she says after a few minutes. He says nothing. He won't patronize her and he's not stupid enough to think anything he says won't be heard that way. "Why can't I hate him?"
He kisses her shoulder, slides his hand under her shirt at her hip innocently. "Because you don't want to," he says. It's an easy answer, but it's the right one.
"I have a boyfriend," she says out of nowhere. "I'm mad at him, but he's still my boyfriend."
"Okay."
"I kissed Dan."
Turns out he can be more jealous than he's been for weeks. It's surging through him and he doesn't know what to say because all the words in his head are angry and he refuses to make her cry.
She turns in his arms and tangles their legs together. It's not as comfortable as it could be, because they're both fully dressed and tangled in their clothing. But she sets her hand on his cheek and closes her eyes, and he watches her face like he's never done with any other woman and strokes his thumb idly against her side beneath her shirt.
"You make me want to run away," she whispers.
He knows how heavy that statement is.
She makes him want to stay.
... ... ...
She misses Dan sometimes, when she's strolling through Paris and trying not to be seen as a rich American tourist slipping into Hermes and Burberry and instead searches old streets for used bookstores. She misses Nate when she goes to this little brandy place and sits by herself and ignores the looks from the men in the room, wishes he was there sitting across from her.
She thinks it's really weird that she misses Carter all the time. He'd buy an old book and then toss it into one of her bags and then pull her into some seedy little bar and sit close and tell her how amazing she looked and how him talking in her ear that way was making every guy in the place jealous as hell.
She sends him a text, a picture of her she had some stranger take, her posing in front The Eiffel Tower. She can't think of anything to write or say, really.
He texts back 'Beautiful' and nothing else, and she likes that, likes that he doesn't pick up the phone and call her right back like Dan would or maybe not call at all like she thinks would happen with Nate.
That probably says a lot about him (and those other guys). She doesn't really want to think about it, so she calls Blair and they meet at their favourite restaurant and they drink more wine than they should. It's becoming a habit, but it's summer and they're young and in Paris, so they rationalize that they're allowed.
... ... ...
At the end of her first year at Columbia, she starts getting antsy. She's studying so hard, and trying and she knows she's going to need a break from this and New York, and everything that's gone on this year.
The morning of her last final, her phone rings and she sees an international number come up on the screen.
"Hello?"
"Hello, beautiful," he says. His voice sends a shiver down her spine in the best way.
Maybe a little bit because he knows her so well, even though he really shouldn't.
"Hi," she says a little quieter than she wants to.
"Done yet?"
"No," she pouts. "I have a final today. I'm freaking out."
"Don't freak out," he chuckles. "You'll be fine."
It's not reassuring at all, the phrase itself, but she feels better anyway, knowing he actually believes it.
"Where are you?" she asks. It's a stupid question, really. They should be making small talk or discussing what happened the last time they saw one another, which was a full year ago. It shouldn't be this easy between them, but it just is.
"Athens."
"What is it with you and Greece?" she giggles. She sits back against her sofa and crosses her legs, checks the time to make sure she won't be late if she talks with him a while.
"Memories," he says teasingly. "Ancient history." She isn't sure if he's talking about them or the actual history there, but it doesn't really matter, she supposes. "Meet me."
"Carter," she laughs.
"Come on, sweetheart." She's practically sold already. "I can have a ticket waiting for you at JFK within the hour."
"What if I say no?" she asks, even though her heart is beating hard and she's wondering how long she'll really need to pack and what she should bring.
"I'll just be here pining for you, then," he says. It's a joke, of course, because Carter doesn't pine. "I want to see you."
"I can't just leave."
"Serena," he nearly whispers. She bites her lip at the sound of his voice. "You do it to me all the time."
Her heart sinks deep down in her chest because he's right, and she hates that. "That's different."
"How nice would it be if I woke up tomorrow morning and you were in my bed?"
She'd tease him about becoming sentimental as he gets older, but she's a little busy thinking about Greece and him and vacation and how it feels to be with him.
"Carter, if I come see you, we both know I'll be waking you up when I get there," she says.
So yes, she's going to Greece.
"Even better."
... ... ...
It's late and dark when she arrives, and she's exhausted and smells like airplane and she just wants to sleep. But he's laying on white sheets with no shirt on and his arms tucked under the pillow his cheek is pressed against. She strips off her jeans and top, slips into bed next to him and pushes her fingers through the hair just above his ear, watches as he wakes up.
He smiles lazily at her across the pillow, and she smiles back.
"I really missed you this time," she whispers like a confession. (It is one.)
His hand slides over the small of her back, then he pulls her closer and brushes his lips against hers. "Good," he says.
She's positive that means he missed her, too, and just doesn't want to say it.
He watches her face, feels her tangle her legs up with his and she keeps running her fingers through his hair. He generally doesn't do this thing with women where he lets them get so close. Serena is different and always has been. He likes this with her. He craves it sometimes. It'd be embarrassing if she wasn't so fucking captivating.
"Stay," he tells her as he rolls her onto her back beneath him.
"I want to," she says. He nods as he kisses her. "You have to make me."
He chuckles and she parts her legs for him. "I'll do my best," he promises. She nods like she understands that he really means it.
She tells him to kiss her, then, and he knows it's a good place to start.
Chapter: 1/1
Pairing: Carter/Serena
Summary: So she asks him why it is they're so easy together. "We're the same," he says simply. "You and me...we're the same."
Word Count: 6,800
Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl.
A/N: This was written for sing_song_sung! Happy Birthday, darling! I hope you have a fantastic day. ♥
The first time she sees him, she's struck by how blue his eyes are. Not blue in the same way as Nate's, or even her own. Blue like...like the floor of her pool in the Hamptons, or like the way they make the sky look in cartoons.
It's freezing out and she's bundled up in a stupid wool coat when she'd really rather be wearing her long, down-filled one, but her mother insisted on this one, this scratchy navy blue one, because it matches her outfit or whatever. Serena doesn't care about that. Matching is stupid. Why can't she just be comfortable? Why can't she just do what she wants?
And why do they have to be at this dumb event anyway? She loves the park, but she'd really rather be inside where it's warm and where she had plans with Nate to drink hot chocolate and watch Home Alone (one and two). She honestly doesn't even know what this event is for and no one's talking to her anyway. That's why she hates these things: She's always required to go, to put in appearances, but no one ever actually cares that she's there.
She stuffs her hands in her pockets and doesn't really pay attention as that guy with the blue eyes talks to her grandmother. She's standing just a few feet away, and she doesn't know why, but she kind of likes the way his cheeks are all pink and his hair's so messy that she's sure his mother is frowning somewhere (she gets that frown a lot, too).
"Serena, dear, this is Carter Baizen," CeCe says, resting her hand on Serena's shoulder. Serena knows that's just body language for 'Pay attention and take your hands out of your pockets.'
"Hi," she says, faking interest. Well, until he grins at her anyway. That seems to get her attention.
"Serena goes to Constance Billard. Maybe you've seen her?" CeCe suggests, turning back to Carter.
Serena likes that name, Carter Baizen. It sounds exotic and interesting, kind of how he looks. And he doesn't take his eyes off her as he smirks and says, "Once or twice."
She doesn't get uncomfortable often, but she's 10 and people are starting to look at her like they have all these expectations of her. She should be used to it, or she should have expected it, but she doesn't want it.
And she's never seen Carter, or she would have remembered it, she's sure. She wants to ask him all sorts of questions, like how she hasn't met him already, and where he came from, or why he looks like he's actually enjoying himself at this dumb party.
"You want to get some hot cider?" he suggests, noticing how cold she looks.
Serena nods, ignores (rolls her eyes at) her grandmother's approving smile, and turns to walk towards the table with the refreshments. He reaches for two cups off the table and hands one to her, and she watches him through her eyelashes as she blows the steam from her cup.
"I'm older than you," he tells her.
"So?" she says defensively. She's not usually so rude, but she's so mad that she has to be here, and he's being a jerk. Maybe.
If he is, the butterflies in her stomach are completely unaware of it.
"I just mean that's why you haven't noticed me."
"Oh," she mumbles, taking a sip of her drink. "Sorry." He shrugs his shoulder and grins, like he actually likes that she's acting like this.
They stand in silence, both observing the adults around them, and when someone has to walk past her Serena moves a little closer to Carter, so their arms are touching. And she doesn't move away, even when she has the room to do so.
He smells like laundry detergent and something musky, and his side is all warm against hers. If he asks, that's what she'll tell him; she's just cold. And she notices that they match, both in navy coats. His pants are grey, and hers are just a shade darker (she told her mother in no uncertain terms that she wasn't wearing a dress in the cold.) His scarf is grey and hers is white.
He points out his parents and explains that he doesn't ever really have to come to these things because his mom and dad travel so much and are rarely around, but since it's the holidays, he's getting dragged to every stupid party there is. Serena laughs and looks up at him (it's rare that she meets someone taller than her; even Nate is the same height). She tells him that she can usually get out of it, but since her grandmother is in town she's being forced.
"You wanna get out of here?" he asks, turning to her. The way her face lights up makes him laugh. "Yeah?"
"We can't! They'll freak out."
He shrugs his shoulder and starts walking away. He turns around to face her, still walking backwards, smiles and says, "So?"
She bites her lip, glances around before looking back to him, and then runs to catch up.
They walk up and down Fifth Avenue, talking about nothing of any importance, really, just school and their families. She tells him all the places she's been to, and he does the same. He grabs her elbow when the 'Don't Walk' sign starts to flash just before she goes to cross a street, and she's biting the inside of her lip so hard she thinks it might bleed, but she just smiles at him.
They spend their entire day away from their families, until well after dark, and it doesn't really dawn on her that she's only 10 and this is probably a bad idea, because she's having fun. And if she's having fun, she's not really one to question anything else. It's not until he walks her home that she starts to worry about how much trouble she's going to get into, and that's only because there's a police car sitting in front of her building and her stomach sinks.
She looks at him and he's still wearing that smirky-smile thing (she's come to really like that) and he shrugs his shoulder. "You're fine. They won't care," he says, and they both laugh because that's so not true.
"I should go inside," she says needlessly.
He surprises her, rests his hand on her cheek and takes a step forward and presses his lips to her forehead gently. "Goodbye, Serena."
"Bye." It comes out a lot softer than she wants it too, and he's smiling as he looks at her.
Vanya comes out, shouting something in Russian or Polish, or whatever it is he speaks, and Serena giggles, hops up on her toes and kisses Carter's cheek, just because, and then runs through the door into her building.
She takes one last look at him, and he's still standing there, hand in pocket and smile on face, looking at her.
She wonders if maybe she's given him the best day in the same way that he's given her the best day.
... ... ...
When she's 13, their worlds collide in a way that scares everyone who knows her. Not because he's Carter, king of St. Jude's and most of the UES underage party scene, but because Serena's now the queen of that scene, or at least the princess of it, learning the ropes. They all think she's spiraling, that's the word Blair uses, but Serena is just having fun, and there's nothing wrong with that, the way she sees it.
And it was just she and Chuck for a while, the two of them ordering martinis at the bar at his father's hotel and drinking until the room spun. They'd go back to his suite and fall asleep together and wake up on opposite sides of the bed with hangovers and a bunch of fun memories from the night before. And that was great. But then Georgina's cousin got a job as a bouncer at a club, and they all started going there instead, and that was when she ran into Carter.
They didn't really keep in touch. He was older, his middle school schedule completely different than her elementary school schedule. And he never did attend any more of those stupid events that she did, save for one or two, but she was admittedly too wrapped up in her best friend or her Nate to really notice him. She caught him looking once or twice, and she'd smile back or offer a wave, but that was it.
And he traveled a lot. A lot. Dubai, Barcelona, Sydney. She heard from CeCe about all the places the Baizens went, and when she asked one time, finally got the nerve to inquire about him, she was told he had a private tutor when his family traveled.
But now he seems to be rooted in New York, and Chuck wonders aloud, jealousy in his tone, if it's just so Carter can rule St. Jude's.
The first time she runs into him, she actually stumbles on her heels a little bit and he braces her with his arms. She doesn't miss, not even in her haze of gin martinis, the way he looks her up and down, his hands still on her waist and his eyes lingering on her chest. It's nothing she isn't used to, but it feels different when he does it, like he appreciates it a little more because it's been so long since he really saw her. She locks eyes with him and thinks it's been too long.
"Hey, beautiful," he says, half smirking at her. His buddy passes him his beer, and he takes it in his hand without ever taking his eyes off Serena.
"Carter."
Chuck appears, standing next to Serena and regarding Carter with a certain amount of distrust in his eyes.
"Chuck Bass," Carter says, finally allowing his hands to fall from Serena's body (she misses them). "Always a pleasure."
Carter watches as Chuck leans in close and says something in Serena's ear, and she just nods and sends him a smile before he walks away. Carter has all her attention. She wants him to. She likes it that way.
She finds that she's missed him. And that she really likes whatever cologne it is that he's wearing. And the way he holds his beer bottle. And the fact that he even drinks beer, when all the guys she knows drink scotch or whatever.
He finishes his drink quickly and sets the empty bottle on the bar, then throws down a $100 to cover his tab. He rests his hand on her hip and leans in. "Wanna get out of here?"
She smiles, lets out a little laugh and nods her head. She finds herself loving that he doesn't hesitate to take her hand in his to lead her out of the packed bar. He looks casual, she notices, wearing just navy slacks and a white and light blue striped button down with the sleeves rolled up and the collar unbuttoned. His hair is shorter than it always was, styled a little bit. He's growing up. He's doing it really well.
She wonders what he thinks of her.
"Your school uniform doesn't do you justice," he tells her once they're outside. He looks her up and down again, and she rolls her eyes.
"You don't even notice me."
"I do," he says, eyes locked with hers. "Everyone notices you."
Maybe that's true, but she finds herself thinking that no one does it as nicely as he does.
She reaches for her phone and he asks her what she's doing. "Texting Chuck. He worries."
"He has the ability?" Carter asks. She shoves him playfully and then hits send. "Who knew?"
"So where are you taking me?" she asks, starting to strut away from him. She's older now, not in need of someone to lead the way.
And besides, people always follow her anyway.
He catches up, slips his arm around her waist and pulls her closer. "I have to take you somewhere?"
She laughs, shakes her head, and he squeezes her a little bit as he smiles. "Maybe not."
"I have a room at the Royalton."
She nods, and they hail a cab to take them where they need to be. He holds her hand, pulls her across the bench seat so she's pressed up next to him, and they talk a little bit about stupid things that don't really matter. He asks about Blair, and she asks about his parents, but both are sore subjects at the moment (she and Blair are fighting, and his parents are on him about pulling up his grades to get into colleges he doesn't even want to go to). As he tells her that Dartmouth isn't for him, she realizes that there's a big difference between 13 and 16. A big difference.
And that's why she's nervous as they ride the elevator up to his hotel room.
She's been alone with boys before, lots of them, actually, but this feels different, because her crush on him comes and goes (it's here now) and it's not like she really knows him all that well. All she knows is that he's older and experienced, and that for whatever reason, her grandmother approves. She's not sure how those two things go hand in hand the way they seem to.
He must sense her worry, because he wraps his arm lazily around her shoulder and kisses her temple, and it puts her at ease, how sweet he can be, how sweet he is with her.
She lays back on the big king sized bed as soon as they're in the room, before the door is even closed, and he comes to lay next to her. He's on his side, one hand covering her stomach as he's propped up on his elbow.
"You okay?" he asks, and she doesn't even look at him as she nods. "You sure?"
"I'm sure," she says, laughing a little, because he's teasing her. When she looks over at him, his blue eyes and his smirk, she suddenly has the urge to be closer. She moves over a little bit so his body is half covering hers, her tucked beneath him a little bit. She closes her eyes so she doesn't have to watch him watching her.
"Tired?"
"Not really."
She should have expected him to kiss her. She should have known he would. But her eyes are closed, and when she feels him moving, leaning over her more, her heart races so much that it doesn't really register what he's about to do. His lips are pressed to hers, warm and soft, and she reaches up and places her hand on his bicep.
It surprises her a little, how much she doesn't want him to stop kissing her. She's kissed people before, but with the exception of just one other boy, she found the whole act to be a little overrated. This is different, too. This is somehow everything and not enough, and the feeling of needing more more more, and his hand on her side beneath her shirt, and his tongue past her lips, and his fingers in her hair.
She doesn't know how long they kiss, but she's giggly and she doesn't think it's the drinks she had. He's nipping at her skin, her shirt is off, and the straps of her bra have slipped down her arms. They're laughing together, saying silly things, all tangled up in one another. She doesn't know why she trusts him so much, why she even likes him so much, when they really hardly know one another.
So she asks him why it is they're so easy together. His head is resting against her chest, almost on her shoulder, and she runs her hands through his hair idly as his fingers toy with one of the belt loops on her Sevens.
"We're the same," he says simply. "You and me...we're the same."
She smiles, leans down so she can kiss him again, then flops back against the pillows. "Maybe."
He doesn't explain it any further, and she might not need him to. Neither can sit still for any amount of time. She needs adventure that she's been creating for herself. He needs adventure that happens as far away from his parents as possible. She wants just enough stability to make her feel wanted, and, though he doesn't admit it to anyone, he wants to want someone, and for whatever reason, any time he's ever been around her he's wanted her. They're both free spirits, or at least that's the label bestowed upon each of them, and he thinks they could do whatever they wanted, and they could do it together, and that'd make them both happy.
But she falls asleep, her blonde hair splayed on the pillow and her pink, kiss-swollen lips pressed together, and when he looks at her he's reminded that she's young. A girl, almost. He was aware of it before, the way her hands stayed above his waist and she didn't rush anything. The girls he was used to wanted to hurry the process along so they could boast that they'd been with him. Maybe it's terrible to think it, but he knows it's the case.
But Serena is different, and he gets the impression that if they were the same age, it would still have been the same story. Maybe. He doesn't know.
He just knows that he likes laying next to her, likes her smooth skin pressed up against his. Maybe he should wake her up and put her in a cab to go home, but instead he reaches for the blankets, pulls them up over the two of them, and opens his arm to her when she moves a little closer.
... ... ...
He's a legend at the boarding school she finds herself at. He was kicked out of St. Jude's at the end of his junior year for something so awful that the faculty wouldn't speak of it, not even to make an example of him. His parents sent him to Hanover with the threat that if he got into trouble there they'd be sending him to military school.
She sees his face on peoples' Facebook pictures and smiles only because he's him and not because of what he's doing in those moments. She ignores the stories about him sleeping with freshmen girls or teachers, and she thinks that that probably a lot of them aren't true anyway. She laughs at the story of him smuggling weed onto campus using a pizza delivery kid from the closest town as his mule, because she's pretty sure that one is true. Her friends tell her that he managed to talk the dean into giving him a single room because sharing reminded him too much of his childhood, growing up with his horrible brother and having to sleep on the bottom bunk (he claimed claustrophobia). Serena shakes her head, because he doesn't even have a brother, but she doesn't say anything about it because she likes that she's the only one who knows.
She gets through the year with little reminders of him everywhere. His photo on the wall with the polo team, the only sport he played, or his legendary senior prank being talked about as the new class of seniors prepared for their own. The cafeteria staff had loved him, since he was so charming and treated them like they were actual people instead of just 'servants', and asked Serena if she knew him, since they were both from the city.
She can't escape him. She might not want to.
Come June, she writes her finals and packs her things and thinks that maybe the summer in the city is just what she needs. Maybe she needs to own up to her mistakes, to everything, and talk to her mother about finding the one thing she wants to find. She's just about to zip closed her last suitcase full of summer clothes when she hears someone walk into her dorm room.
She turns around and almost can't believe that this person is standing here, one hand tucked into his pocket as he leans against the door frame, smirk on his face as he stares at her legs stemming out beneath her tiny cutoff shorts.
"Hey, beautiful," he says.
She rushes towards him, and he laughs when she throws her arms around him. "Carter," she sighs, her breath tickling the shell of his ear.
He pushes them back into her room and kicks the door closed behind them, though they both know very well that it's against the rules to have boys in her room. She doesn't care, because spring semester is over and her roommate has already left, and there's no one really around who could tell on her.
He kisses her just once before he pulls away from her, and her cheeks are all flushed. He's going to take credit for that whether he deserves it or not. She's got a plain blue tank top on with her shorts, and her hair is in a messy ponytail. Her room is a disaster, boxes and suitcases everywhere. But she's in front of him, and his hands are on her hips. She hasn't asked him why he's there, what he wants, but she decides quickly that she doesn't care.
He tells her anyway. He was just passing through on his way from Boston to New York, and he heard that she'd gone to Hanover. He'd thought he might be able to catch her before she left, and he's glad he has. She pulls him down so that he's sitting on her bed with her. She tells him she's heard all about him from just about everyone at school, and he laughs and says it's all lies, though they both know that it's not. He asks if she saw his polo picture, and she giggles and tells him he looks handsome in Hanover purple, the team's school colour.
"What are you doing for the summer?" she asks, after they've caught up on everything (he's spent the last few months in Argentina, then took a quick trip to Boston to see some friends at Harvard).
"Greece," he answers easily. "Have you ever been?" She shakes her head and he smiles at her, can picture her with darker skin and those pretty Grecian braids in her hair. "I think you'd like it."
"Maybe someday I'll go," she says as she stands.
"Someday," he says.
He never thought she was the type to ever use the word. From what he knows of her, she wants everything, whatever it is that she wants, right now, no waiting. She takes what she wants because people let her, and the idea of her not just doing makes him feel a little uneasy around her, because maybe she's not exactly who he remembers.
He wonders what happened to make her come to boarding school in the first place, knows that unlike it was for him, hers was a choice, not a command. It hits him that now she's the mystery, when it was always he who played that part. It's a bitter taste of his own medicine, because he wants to be able to read her and he doesn't like anyone to be able to read him, not even this gorgeous girl who just gets more and more perfect with age.
He offers her a ride back to the city and she can't refuse, because now that he's here she wants as much time with him as possible. He has his driver come and carry her things, and she apologizes adorably, and Carter wonders who the hell she is to not have inherited her parents' (all their parents', really) penchant for taking, taking, taking and not caring if they ever really give back.
She sits close to him in the back of the limo, her mostly bare legs pressing against his and her arm looped through his. She gets a little quiet when they draw closer to the city, and he wants to ask her what the hell happened to send her off and running, but before he can form the words she's looking at him and biting her lip.
"What is it?" he asks.
"Maybe I could...Can I come with you? To Greece?"
She's so cute and nervous, and if he wasn't staring at her lips, he'd appreciate that more. But a summer in Greece with this goddess sounds like just about his ideal vacation. So he pulls her closer, and she curls against him, and he kisses her temple, her head resting against his shoulder.
"Of course you can," he says.
He tells the driver to go straight to JFK, not into Manhattan, and he uses his platinum card and his last name to get her a first class ticket in the seat next to his.
... ... ...
She leaves because he scares her. Not the police or what happened or them running through old streets with his hand holding hers tightly, or him slipping into her slowly and murmuring things that sound strange and wonderful passing through his lips.
Just him.
They're the same and he knows it, and even if they've never really spent a lot of time together, he seems to understand her a lot more than her best friends do.
She's not quite sure she wants to be known, so she takes the train from Athens to Venice and even though she's very familiar with the feeling in the pit of her stomach, she tells herself over and over again that it isn't guilt.
... ... ...
She holds a glass to his eye, and he looks at her like he remembers everything, every detail, and when he mentions Santorini, she looks at him like she remembers it all too.
He's not a violent person. He's manipulative and 'sneaky' and he schemes and uses people when he wants to, when he can.
But he sees her dancing with her boyfriend and he's never wanted to hit someone more than he wants to hit that guy.
He leaves without saying goodbye and wonders if she'll recognize that he's stealing her move.
... ... ...
"Stop staring," she says, little smile on her lips one morning. She's naked, save for a white sheet covering her, and her hair is a wild mess of blonde against the pillow. She's sweating because Fiji is hotter than almost anywhere either of them has ever been.
She's fucking beautiful and he's having difficulty not pushing her onto her back.
"Can't," he tells her, tracing a star on the back of her shoulder. "It's your own fault."
"How?" she giggles.
"You're the gorgeous one." It may not make a lot of sense, but he's distracted, and pillow talk, he assumes (he's never done much of it), is not meant to be perfectly logical.
She moves closer, tangles her legs with his despite the fact that it's so hot she feels like her skin is soaked with sweat. "You're gorgeous," she argues. He scoffs, so she puts her hand on his cheek and kisses him once. She knows full well what she's starting. That's part of the reason she's doing it.
"It's too hot," he complains.
"So?" She pushes him onto his back and swings her leg over his hips and the sheet falls away. "You can't say no to me, can you, Carter?"
She's teasing him and they're both aware of it.
But no, he really can't.
... ... ...
She leaves partly because he wants her and partly because her father doesn't. Both concepts are terrifying to her.
No one's ever come after her before. Carter shows up with perfect words and sounds so eager, so serious, holds her so tightly, and all she can do is believe him and admit to herself that maybe wanting him back isn't as scary as she's making it out to be.
... ... ...
The thought of him being engaged - much less married - to someone else makes her so jealous she can't stand it. She strips off her clothes and pulls him to her, lets him take her up against the wall and ignores him when he asks what that was all about.
He leaves anyway, walks away when she's got tears in her eyes and she hates him for making her fall for him then leaving her alone like everyone else does.
... ... ...
She tries not to think about him when she's finally in a relationship with Nate, but he texts her once to ask how she is and she spends two days with her head somewhere else, trying to picture him wherever he might be. In all her imaginary scenarios, he misses her terribly and she's very smug about it.
She sends back 'Fine' after three days, and doesn't hear from him again until he shows up in New York.
She's still mad at him and doesn't want to talk to him, and she knows that if Nate finds out she's spending time with Carter it'll be a big, huge argument she really doesn't want to have.
But then there's, "Hey, beautiful," and the back of a limousine and, "I found your father," and as important as Nate is to her, Carter will maybe always be trying to give her things she's never going to admit she needs.
... ... ...
He comes back when her father leaves. She's crying over three men, two of whom apparently want her and one who obviously doesn't, and Carter takes her to his hotel room through the service entrance and tucks her into his bed in her clothes.
"I'm sorry," he says, and he sounds as sincere as he did the day he told her her father was stupid for not wanting her. She nods, turns away from him, and he lays behind her and slides his hand up her arm. "Serena, I'm sorry."
He's making it sound like it's his fault. Logically, he knows it isn't, but there's just always been this blanket of doubt where her father is concerned. He knows what it's like to want to disappear, and if her father wanted to come back and see her, he would have. Carter's told her this before, but she was so hell bent on bringing the man to New York and Carter can't deny her what she wants, what will make her happy. Never mind that most of the things he's done have made her pretty blue eyes all sad and full of tears. Maybe he's apologizing for all of it.
"You don't control him," she says after a few minutes. He says nothing. He won't patronize her and he's not stupid enough to think anything he says won't be heard that way. "Why can't I hate him?"
He kisses her shoulder, slides his hand under her shirt at her hip innocently. "Because you don't want to," he says. It's an easy answer, but it's the right one.
"I have a boyfriend," she says out of nowhere. "I'm mad at him, but he's still my boyfriend."
"Okay."
"I kissed Dan."
Turns out he can be more jealous than he's been for weeks. It's surging through him and he doesn't know what to say because all the words in his head are angry and he refuses to make her cry.
She turns in his arms and tangles their legs together. It's not as comfortable as it could be, because they're both fully dressed and tangled in their clothing. But she sets her hand on his cheek and closes her eyes, and he watches her face like he's never done with any other woman and strokes his thumb idly against her side beneath her shirt.
"You make me want to run away," she whispers.
He knows how heavy that statement is.
She makes him want to stay.
... ... ...
She misses Dan sometimes, when she's strolling through Paris and trying not to be seen as a rich American tourist slipping into Hermes and Burberry and instead searches old streets for used bookstores. She misses Nate when she goes to this little brandy place and sits by herself and ignores the looks from the men in the room, wishes he was there sitting across from her.
She thinks it's really weird that she misses Carter all the time. He'd buy an old book and then toss it into one of her bags and then pull her into some seedy little bar and sit close and tell her how amazing she looked and how him talking in her ear that way was making every guy in the place jealous as hell.
She sends him a text, a picture of her she had some stranger take, her posing in front The Eiffel Tower. She can't think of anything to write or say, really.
He texts back 'Beautiful' and nothing else, and she likes that, likes that he doesn't pick up the phone and call her right back like Dan would or maybe not call at all like she thinks would happen with Nate.
That probably says a lot about him (and those other guys). She doesn't really want to think about it, so she calls Blair and they meet at their favourite restaurant and they drink more wine than they should. It's becoming a habit, but it's summer and they're young and in Paris, so they rationalize that they're allowed.
... ... ...
At the end of her first year at Columbia, she starts getting antsy. She's studying so hard, and trying and she knows she's going to need a break from this and New York, and everything that's gone on this year.
The morning of her last final, her phone rings and she sees an international number come up on the screen.
"Hello?"
"Hello, beautiful," he says. His voice sends a shiver down her spine in the best way.
Maybe a little bit because he knows her so well, even though he really shouldn't.
"Hi," she says a little quieter than she wants to.
"Done yet?"
"No," she pouts. "I have a final today. I'm freaking out."
"Don't freak out," he chuckles. "You'll be fine."
It's not reassuring at all, the phrase itself, but she feels better anyway, knowing he actually believes it.
"Where are you?" she asks. It's a stupid question, really. They should be making small talk or discussing what happened the last time they saw one another, which was a full year ago. It shouldn't be this easy between them, but it just is.
"Athens."
"What is it with you and Greece?" she giggles. She sits back against her sofa and crosses her legs, checks the time to make sure she won't be late if she talks with him a while.
"Memories," he says teasingly. "Ancient history." She isn't sure if he's talking about them or the actual history there, but it doesn't really matter, she supposes. "Meet me."
"Carter," she laughs.
"Come on, sweetheart." She's practically sold already. "I can have a ticket waiting for you at JFK within the hour."
"What if I say no?" she asks, even though her heart is beating hard and she's wondering how long she'll really need to pack and what she should bring.
"I'll just be here pining for you, then," he says. It's a joke, of course, because Carter doesn't pine. "I want to see you."
"I can't just leave."
"Serena," he nearly whispers. She bites her lip at the sound of his voice. "You do it to me all the time."
Her heart sinks deep down in her chest because he's right, and she hates that. "That's different."
"How nice would it be if I woke up tomorrow morning and you were in my bed?"
She'd tease him about becoming sentimental as he gets older, but she's a little busy thinking about Greece and him and vacation and how it feels to be with him.
"Carter, if I come see you, we both know I'll be waking you up when I get there," she says.
So yes, she's going to Greece.
"Even better."
... ... ...
It's late and dark when she arrives, and she's exhausted and smells like airplane and she just wants to sleep. But he's laying on white sheets with no shirt on and his arms tucked under the pillow his cheek is pressed against. She strips off her jeans and top, slips into bed next to him and pushes her fingers through the hair just above his ear, watches as he wakes up.
He smiles lazily at her across the pillow, and she smiles back.
"I really missed you this time," she whispers like a confession. (It is one.)
His hand slides over the small of her back, then he pulls her closer and brushes his lips against hers. "Good," he says.
She's positive that means he missed her, too, and just doesn't want to say it.
He watches her face, feels her tangle her legs up with his and she keeps running her fingers through his hair. He generally doesn't do this thing with women where he lets them get so close. Serena is different and always has been. He likes this with her. He craves it sometimes. It'd be embarrassing if she wasn't so fucking captivating.
"Stay," he tells her as he rolls her onto her back beneath him.
"I want to," she says. He nods as he kisses her. "You have to make me."
He chuckles and she parts her legs for him. "I'll do my best," he promises. She nods like she understands that he really means it.
She tells him to kiss her, then, and he knows it's a good place to start.