Can't Start A Fire Without A Spark

A/N: Nate and Serena missing moments- One for each episode of gossip girl seasons one and two. This one shot takes place in two parts- the second of which is in between Nate asking Serena to meet him upstairs and Nate and Blair's elevator encounter. Please take the time to review- feedback is the best thing for an author and I'm really not sure I'll be writing unless I receive a certain number of reviews on this chapter. Not to mention- I'm very sick today so make me feel better with a few kind words? Title is from the Springsteen song *Dancing in the Dark*.

The Wild Brunch

The Captain's teachings were rather lax when it came to mending a broken heart. Flowers, candy and you won the girl back. Archibald men didn't pine. It wasn't seemly.

Archibald men didn't usually fall in love with the van der Woodsens of the world.

She left- she picked her self up and she walked away from him and she didn't look back. He'd certainly be justified if he were mad at her. Stole his virginity and stuffed into her purse with her lipstick and spun off to Connecticut. To boarding school in Connecticut where she probably swapped spit and lip color with countless other boys.

Nate shakes his head at himself- what is he even thinking? She's Serena van der Woodsen. Her mouth tasted like strawberries and champagne when he kissed her, not a hint of the stale red that Blair's little pecks leave on his lips. Serena never wears lipstick. She's entirely too perfect for it and god, does he know that.

If the Captain's teachings are lax than Chuck is always at hand to fill in the gap, so Nate heads up to Chuck's room before brunch since he's already checked in with Lily and Dan's waiting for her too. "Hair of a dog, Nathaniel," he drawls, like this is something he's done before. Something he's used to. It's really not because Chuck doesn't do pining anymore than either of their father's do.

Then again. Chuck never got to kiss Serena.

Nate downs his drink (Premium whiskey is *not* hair-of-a-dog, Chuck) and heads out the door, with his hands in buried deep in his pockets.

If he travelled to the ends of the earth and made it back alive, he wouldn't bother wondering if it had been for her. He wouldn't bother lying about it either.

"Natie." He hears a warm whisper in his ear, a brush of lips against his skin and he leans into the touch.

"Serena." It's only half moan, half ecstasy

She giggles. It doesn't take much to turn him on. She's hiding behind a cactus and whispering his childhood nickname and that's all he needs till he's half mast. (Correction- it doesn't take much for *her* to turn him on.) Blair calls for a waiter, sobering S up fast and she bites back her laugh and kicks Nate in the shins, her Christian Loboutin heel pressing up against his grey covered calf for brief second.

"You told me to meet you in Chuck's room," she hisses, dragging him behind a pillar, "I don't have the key."

He turns under her grip, blue eyes staring straight into hers and oh, god. There it is. That undeniable spark between them, flickering hard and bright. His hands find her waist and he pushes her harder against the column, his mouth twisting wickedly only inches from hers into her very favorite smile of his. Her ankles grow weak and it's a good thing he's holding her up.

"Have I told you how hot you look in that dress?" whispers Nate, all thoughts of secrecy forgotten as his mouth meets her jaw and nuzzles against it.

She gasps out in pleasure as his tongue flicks against her skin, lips wandering to the crook of her neck just beneath her chin. "No, you haven't." Her fingers wind themselves into the soft golden curls at the bottom of his hair, palm pressing into the back his throat. She breathes in time to beat of his pulse, moaning when he starts to pull up her skirt.

"Natie." No one else ever calls him that. He would hate if they did. This sweet, simple moniker belongs solely to Serena, and it fits more easily than Chuck's "Nathaniel" or Blair's "Darling" because like everything else with Serena it simply *is*, no strings or conditions attached. Right now, it's said achingly, with so much feeling that he almost stumbles back. There's his girlfriend in the room next door. There is his father and his mother and the erstwhile poet who's masquerading as Serena's date and the mere thought of that boy touching S makes Nate growl like a caveman, with blinding jealousy.

And then, all of a sudden, he just can't stand it anymore. He pulls his mouth away from her neck and brings it down over hers, kissing the very breath out of her body. And it's nothing- *nothing*- like kissing anyone else.

He hasn't had much experience. A couple of the girls under Chuck's employ and Blair- but that's it. Nate and Serena don't need skill or technique or intention when they kiss each other, his hands don't seek a reaction when they roam over her body.

When he's kissing Serena- it's all instinct. Every last, intoxicating drop it and he just wants to drown in her.

"Nate?"

Blair's crisp voice rings across the room, bouncing off the high vaulted ceilings of the lobby and the marble walls.

Nate curses softly under his breath, mouth unwilling to part from it's mate and he holds her tight for one more minute.

"You better go see what she wants."

Serena's never sounded this bitter. Nate's never felt this hurt.

"Will you meet in five minutes?" He's begging now and he isn't ashamed of it. He'd fall to his knees if he had room to move.

"Nate," she says slowly, drawing out his name and shaking her head.

"Please."

Serena bows her head and he reaches into his pocket for the key. Their bodies are still pressed up against each other and he skims his hand down the length of hers to reach the small piece of metal and he really, *really* doesn't want to let go.

"I'll see you in five," he whispers, softly and leans into the kiss her just once before detaching himself from her and sliding out from behind the column.

Blair is standing in the foyer, all chocolate curls and tapping feet with a hint of new mischief in her eyes, demanding to know where he's been. Nate doesn't dare to turn around for one last look before the endless eternity of five whole minutes.

And he doesn't see Serena wipe away a tear from her cheek, as she straightens out her dress and heads towards the elevator and room 1812.