Disclaimer: I do not own "Gossip Girl."

***

Nate can't say he planned it this way, he didn't really plan it any way except to decide that it was a plan; but he's learned to recognize a golden opportunity when he sees it. She's all laughter and smiles and golden hair glimmering with all the colors of the rainbow as she stares at the Christmas tree, the lights and tinsel sparkling over her face and hair and grin…

And it's a probably the messiest Tree any of them have ever had— too much of everything and no order whatsoever except, okay, okay, my turn now! as they put ornaments and tinsel all over it—

He's watched her all night, sometimes obviously and sometimes not, and he'd considered that if he let her drink much more than he'd have to postpone this little plan all together, had been resigning himself to doing that— but then she stands up on the chair and he just does it.

He pulls her off balance and catches her as she falls; and she tenses, startled and yelping, Nate! in an alarmed voice so he leans in immediately and presses a kiss to her lips (to silence her, nothing to do with having her in his arms and not being able to stop himself).

He steps back from the chair as he lifts his lips from hers, looks into her suddenly wide blue eyes and murmurs, "Shhh," with a smile.

And then he glances over at Chuck and Blair, both of whom are sitting up straight now— watching them with interest; Nate gives them a nod, says very politely, "Excuse us for a moment."

Then he turns towards the closest door and pushes it open, slides past it, and stands with his back resting against it— Serena in his arms.

They're both silent for a long moment and then he says wryly, "Get the light, will ya…?"

"Na--Nate…?"

"Lights, Serena."

"Put me down," she pushes at his chest then, "You—you just ki— Wha--what are you doing…?"

"Lights, please, and I might totally tell you…" he teases.

She's silent, still for a moment and then he feels her slip arm behind his head and flick on the light. It's a moment to adjust to the change and then he sees, she's staring at him with wide eyes, "Nate, what are—"

He kisses her again and she starts in his hold, surprised; he smiles against her mouth.

It doesn't last long though, she pulls back, a hand at his chest, "Nate, what is this— put me down— we're in the bathroom." She murmurs in quick succession, voice breathy and eyes anywhere but his face.

He nods, "Yeah, didn't think I'd make it across to your room without Chuck or Blair stopping us…"

"Why are you— you… you kissed me."

There's a thread of wonder in her voice that lets Nate keep his smile, lets his gaze rove over her whole face while he says simply, "Yes."

She takes a deep breath, is stiff in his arms as she point out, "Twice."

He nods, "Yep."

"Why?" The arm behind his head has been left to rest around his neck; her gaze fixed on his lips, not his eyes.

He lifts the corners of it up in a half-smile, "Hm, once to keep you quiet and then to make sure I have your attention."

"Oh," she blinks at him, "Okay… are you going to put me down now?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Um... yeah, I think that… would be good now…"

He nods, says, "Okay," and carefully sets her feet on the floor, releases her.

She jumps a little, wincing, "Cold floor…"

He winces with her, he's wearing socks. "Sorry…"

She moves over to the carpet and then puts a hand on her hip, "You could just ask for my attention, Nate."

"You didn't like the kiss?"

"That's not the point," she says quickly and waves a hand around the bathroom. "What's going on? And you know, it's not nice to leave Chuck and Blair out there all alo—"

"I don't think they'll mind so much," Nate interrupts with a smirk.

Serena opens her mouth to retort and instead huffs a laugh, because— he's right, "True— they're probably all-out cuddling now that we're not there to witness it," she says sagely, "You saw them, all cute on the sofa," she giggles, "I totally snuck a picture…"

Nate forgets for a moment what he'd brought her in here to do. "You did?!"

She nods, her waves of hair shifting at the enthusiastic motion, "Yes! I'm going to make like nine digital copies and hide them all before I print it out though, it's so cute..."

He laughs, "I'll bet you my stash of twizzler's Chuck'll find all those copies and destroy them."

"I could just steal your twizzler's, ya know, I know you put them in the M&M's bowl and covered them up," she confesses.

"How—"

She shrugs expansively, "Um, 'cause I saw you," she laughs, "And they were being cute! And I have proof!"

"You're being cute." He says it without thinking, because she's as adorable and gorgeous under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom as she was under flickering Christmas lights in the living room.

His words plunge them into momentary silence though, her eyes going wide in her face again— but an instant later and she's smiling, tossing her hair back and batting her lashes at him teasingly, "Aren't I always cute…?"

And that, her teasing and the way she smoothes his words over with that brilliant smile, remind him what the point of all this is; he grins at her, leans back against the door and crosses his arms across his chest. "So, we have to talk."

Her smile wavers a little, but not much, "Oh… um, now? In the bathroom?" She giggles, "You don't think that's weird?" Her eyes are sparkling bright blue, but he can see the caution lurking there, she's not as giddily tipsy as she wishes she were.

"I'm okay with the weird," he tells her.

"Oh..." she walks back until her legs bump against the tub, "Why do we— can't we talk some other ti— what's there to talk about?"

Nate takes a deep breath, she's gone all hesitant and breathy and he knows she knows exactly what they have to talk about— and he says it for them both, "Well, there's us."

She stares at him, silent, her smile fading; and he waits.

"Nate…" she says his name with a shake of her head. "There's… we…"

"I said some things to you—"

"No." She says it firmly, cuts him off with another shake of head, emphatic this time, "We are not talking about…" this, "Anything tonight. It's Christmas Eve and we are celebrating and— and I'm drunk." She finishes with sudden flourish.

He smiles a little at that, "Less than ten minutes ago you said you weren't drunk."

"Drunk people lie!"

"Are you lying right now?"

"No! Yes! Maybe," she scowls at him, "This is unfair! You barely drank anything! I noticed that, Nathaniel."

His smile turns into a grin, "Ouch, full name calling— what'd I do?"

"You—you…" she blows out a breath, looks away from him and he knows what he's done, he's sort of cornered her in the bathroom while she's tipsy to talk about the thing they do not talk about.

"Serena," he says her name quietly, drops his arms from his chest and pushes off from the door, "Should I kiss you again? To get your full attention, because I wouldn't mind doing that, at all, if you need me to." He's smiling as he says it, because his heart is starting to pound in his chest and he has to say this before he talks himself out of it.

She looks at him and there's a flash of panic in her eyes, "Nate, come on— really— it's Christmas Eve and we're supposed to be celebrating… all four of us," she waves a hand behind him towards the door, "We have to make hot chocolate still and there's sticky buns! We saved the cookies, remember! To eat with the cocoa! So just— let's go back out there and just don't— " say it, "Make things more complicated than they have to be…" she gives him a smile, shaky at the edges but wholly sincere, "I'm happy you're here, we're having a good time, let's—"

He takes her hand in his, she snaps her mouth shut.

"Just listen to me for a second, okay…?" And he makes it a question, but he doesn't wait for her to answer, "I've been thinking about— what's happened the last few days and about— about you and me. And I think that—"

She interrupts him— with her tongue. One moment he's in the middle of his sentence (that he'd kind of belabored over when he'd been planning) and the next she's pressed against him, both her arms wrapped tight around his neck and her mouth moving over his in a way he'd have to be dead not to be responsive to. He knows he staggers back a little, but he knows he wraps his arms around her too— so it's probably a bit of a mixed signal.

She's pulls back for breath, pushes closer, and he stumbles back. "Sere—" he leans backwards and realizes a beat later that he's still got his arms around her waist.

"You wanted," she murmurs, as breathless as he is, "To kiss…"

And there's pressure on the top of his feet then; and it's a frenzy of hurried kissing and him with his hands sliding into her hair and her with hers slipping under shirt when he realizes vaguely that she's standing on him—and he sort of laughs into her, rocks back his heels, to tip her with him.

She lifts her head a little, mumbles, "Floor's cold."

And he knows what she's doing with the lips and the mouth and the hands under his shirt, on his skin— "… s'not fair…" he tells her, backing up again.

Except she's on him now so he's taking her with him with every step. "S'not fair of you…" she says between kisses, "To talk to me while… while I'm drunk."

Nate backs them until he's pressed against the closed door again, "You're not drunk."

"Am too."

"s'Merry Christmas present..."

She freezes at his words, lifts her with a grin, "Present…?"

And he blinks, breathes for a second as he stares into her blue eyes, everything slowing down— and he realizes that at some point he's moved a hand from her hair to slide under her t-shirt, that she's not wearing a bra, that she's pressed all along him, that one of her legs is curled around his thigh and the door is supporting a lot more of their weight than he first thought, because they're kind of both breathless and dazed.

"I… uh…" he licks his lips and they taste like candy-canes and eggnog and Serena. He blinks, focuses on clearing his mind and thinking, "Yeah," he says, "Uh… that's— that's what I wanted to say to you…"

"It is?" She looks a little wary suddenly, smile dimming— and he's aware they haven't moved an inch, still wrapped around each other.

"You and me," he says looking right into her eyes, "Need some time."

She jerks in his hold, like she wants to pull back, "Na—"

He doesn't let her— move or speak, "I was thinking… time, to ourselves, would be good…"

She sighs, "Nate--"

"So I got tickets."

She closes her mouth and stares at him for a moment, and then wonders softly, "Tickets?"

"For us. To Disney on Ice."

And she blinks; he watches the wariness slip away in favor of a slowly spreading smile, "Really?"

He nods a little, "In Spain."

Her mouth drops open and she squeaks it this time, "Really?!" Doesn't wait for his response, "Nate, that is awesome!" She giggles, eyes lighting up, "I love Disney on Ice! And Spain is always so fun to—"

He nods again and doesn't let himself think about it, "And I thought maybe," he interrupts, watching her intently, "You could think about being my girlfriend."

Everything about her, the smile, the words, the light in her eyes, freezes for a beat— and then is shuttered away. She shakes her head in a tiny, jerky motion and pushes back out of his arms again, and this time, he lets her go. She staggers back a step, stands with her bare feet on the cold tile and gapes at him.

***

"… think about being my girlfriend."

There's a part of her that's panicking. Inside, there's a part of her that's waving her arms and shrieking don't and stop and backing up all the way into the bathtub if necessary; a part of her that would throw all the bottles of shampoo and conditioner and body wash and lotion and every single thing she could lift in this bathroom at him if it would get him to stop talking, to move away from the door so she could run into the living to Chuck and Blair and take pictures of their tree on her phone and make hot chocolate and pretend none this had never happened…

Because there are no words to explain the force she exerts to not think about that.

But she's not doing any of those things; because he kissed her and she let him, because she kissed him and he let her, because it's written all over his face— he is going to say this and no amount of arguing or distractions from her is going to stop him—

(and because maybe there's a smaller part of her, deeper inside, that wants to hear him)

But she doesn't think about that, she never does; she stands there and she stares at him, his messy hair and his deep blue eyes and the way his lips are pink from her kisses, and she clasps her hands in front of her and tries one more time to divert him, "Nate, please… I know we have to— to talk, I know that there's things— that I owe you an expl— "

He balks a little at the words, "You don't owe me anything, Serena."

"No I do," she insists, "You said things to me," she feels a prickling of tears and thinks maybe she really is too drunk for this conversation, "And I just… igno— pretended that you didn't and I know—"

His hands wrap around her upper arms gently and he ducks his head a little, "I don't need to hear about that, it's over, okay. Don't worry about it… just would you listen to me?"

And she falls silent at that earnest request, those imploring eyes; it feels like her heart is going to pound out of her chest and her mouth is suddenly so dry she can't swallow and she's digging the nails of her right hand into her left, but she is silent.

"We do a fake relationship really well, don't we?"

And that was not what she was expecting, she starts a little.

He presses on, "We could probably do a real one just as well," he tells her simply, "Probably better— but I thought, we could start it fake," he offers and she can't think, is doing just, only, what he's asked of her, listening. "And then, if you think—if there's something true in it, than we can—we could make it real."

He drops his hands from her arms then, straightens a little, but he keeps his eyes on her face, "And you—" he takes a quick breath, "You should know it wasn't just three years ago, that I loved you," he leans back a little, "It's kind of a current thing too," he brings a hand up in a tiny shrug, says, "Future thing."

And her gaze just fixes on him, dazed and slow, marveling at how matter-of-fact he sounds…

He's stepping to the side then, opening the door. "So just— think about it. I mean, we'll still have fun either way."

It takes her a good five seconds to realize he's referring to the show; the Disney on Ice show.

He's nodding at her then and turning around and then she's alone in the bathroom. Which is a good, because he loves her— a current thing and a future thing— and he wants her to be his girlfriend and they can start fake and keep it if there's something true and they'll have fun at the show either way— and she's alone, so she can let the tears pool and fall, can wipe them away really quickly and then follow him into the living room.

***

Serena doesn't look at Nate when she steps into the living room; she looks at the room, let's her eyes adjust to the dimness of it after the harsher lights in the bathroom, looks to the tree and its shimmering colors and lights, she looks at Blair. Blair's sitting up on the sofa now and she doesn't look drowsy anymore. Her feet are on the carpet and her hair's spilling around her shoulders and she has a candy cane in one hand and her eyes are fixed right on the doorway, waiting for Serena to walk through it.

And Serena doesn't know what Blair sees in her expression (panic? confusion? omfg?), but it has the brunette rising from her seat and coming towards her, looping an arm through hers as she says, "Hot chocolate?" And tugs her towards the kitchen area, "Yes…"

Serena nods and doesn't have to look over to feel Chuck and Nate watching her.

Blair doesn't so much help with the hot chocolate as she does lean on the counter with the candy cane in her mouth and watch Serena heat the mugs pre-filled with Dorota's special blend in the microwave.

The room is quiet except for the soft music and the din of the microwave. Nate's uncovering his twizzler's from the bowl of M&M's and Chuck's watching him amusedly sipping his eggnog—not even grimacing.

"You were in there a long a time," Blair whispers as Serena puts the third mug into the microwave.

"Take those to them," Serena says.

Blair wants to scoff, instead she says wryly, "Oh I can't. I'm busy."

Serena looks over at Blair casually leaning against the counter, feels a smile touch her lips at the response, "Doing what?"

She doesn't deign that with a responses, wonders instead, "What did he do? Say? In there?" Blair wonders.

Serena motions towards the mugs, "They're gonna get cool before they get to try them…"

"You look rather shell-shocked," she observes.

Serena frowns a bit, "I'm not." She kind of was.

"He looks rather pleased with himself."

And Serena turns without comment; removes one mug, replaces it with the last from the microwave. Then she draws in a deep breath and turns back to Blair, smiles. "Thanks for this, B. I didn't think I was up for it… but I was, am. I'm really glad you came."

Blair nods, studies her best friend as amusedly as Chuck had studied his, "Hm, oh I know. We're going to play Mad Mistletoe now."

Serena starts a little. "Mad Mistl—" she shakes her head, "But… that game… you…"

"We have mistletoe and music and we are the creators are we not?"

Serena blinks, finds herself smiling a little, "I'm the creator—"

"Semantics, Serena. Who allowed you to play this at her holiday party of the year in 7th grade?"

Serena pulls the last mug from the microwave, "Well, yes Blair. That would be you," she admits and surprises herself when she hears the teasing note in her voice. She's not relaxing, she's not— she's just… enjoying the music and the way the Christmas lights sparkle over everything and the smell of chocolate and the company of her best friend…

Blair nods and turns towards the living room, "Nate…!"

And Serena jumps in the air; hisses, "Blair," heatedly and then lets her hair fall in front of her face and hopes the brunette can't see her blush in the shadowed room.

Blair blinks, almost innocently, "What?"

"Yeah Blair?" Nate calls over, with a smile, "What?"

"Come get your hot chocolate… and Chuck's," she answers and then Blair takes a mug for herself and smiles at Serena, before walking away; calling over her shoulder a moment later, "Don't forget the sticky buns, S."

She passes Nate on the way and smiles sunnily up at him; slips in next to Chuck who promptly wraps an arm around her and takes the mug out of her hands.

Nate leans his elbows on the counter and looks at Serena; she presses her lips together and doesn't quite meet his eyes, but she slides two mugs over towards him.

He wraps his hands around them and tilts his head to one side, says, "Thanks," with a half-smile and then he turns around and walks back to Chuck and Blair.

He gives the mug to Blair since Chuck's still got hers and he sits down on the floor again. Chuck bumps his foot against Nate's shoulder and Nate leans over to the armchair, picks up candy canes from one of the trays they'd set their and hands two of them over to Chuck. Chuck drops one his mug, puts the other Blair's and she turns her face presses a quick kiss to his lips.

And Serena can't catch her breath for a moment— because… it's like she's looking through a window suddenly, the moment crystallizing in her mind— a hazy mirage of what it could be like if she… if she was— let herself be, Nate's girlfriend; and she gapes at them, the scene in front of her…

It just can't be this… this easy, this simple… her with Nate and Blair with Chuck and hot chocolate beside a twinkling Christmas tree and games and teasing and together and— perfect…

She feels it when he looks over at her, allows her gaze find his and he smiles at her again.

if there's something true in it

"Serena…?" He says her name and waves his hand over, "Come on."

"There's mistletoe to be dealt with," Chuck announces, leering a little at her.

Blair swats him in the shoulder and then pins her eyes on Serena, "Could you bring the sticky buns over before I talk myself out of consuming the caloric intake of a child for an entire year in one sitting?"

we could make it real

"Serena?" Nate says her name again, looks like he's about to stand, "You okay?"

She blinks. "Oh, uh… yeah, no… yes!" She shakes her head, "I'm fine… yes. Right…" and she licks her lips, finds the tray of sticky buns and carries them over. Nate takes them when she's close enough, swipes a hand over the surface of the coffee table to clear it of paper and popcorn and string and then sets it down. Serena stares at him, he stares back—and she thinks Blair is right, he does look vaguely pleased with himself.

"I control first," Chuck announces and waves the remote control of the stereo in the air.

"Why do you get to go first?" Blair wonders.

"Because I have this," Chuck answers, waves the remote again.

Blair takes a sip of her hot chocolate, "What if I want to go first?"

"Are you going to sit?" Nate asks her, takes a bit of sticky bun and waves to the spot on the floor where she'd been sitting before getting up to put the star on the tree— that kind of feels like a hundred hours ago…

She blows out a slow breath, realizes she's just standing there and that she's staring at him and that yes… yes, it could be this simple… because he was giving her all the ways out and so many ways in…

And of course— of course there would be something true; there was the last time, there would be every time— and, and…

She smiles at him and then moves and drops herself onto the couch beside Blair, half on Blair.

"Serena!" Blair screeches it, has to rear over into Chuck and nearly spill both their drinks.

Serena laughs and pretends for the moment to not see the hurt flash across Nate's face. "B!" She cries and links her arm through Blair's, drops her head on Blair's shoulder and puts her gaze on Nate's face, "Guess what?!" She says to Blair.

And Blair tries to shrug her off and then to look into her face and can't manage either in the position she's in so she rolls her eyes, "Yes, Serena, what?"

"Nate's taking me to Spain," she says.

And Blair pauses, looks over at Chuck, who looks at Nathaniel, who's gaze has gone intent on Serena's face.

A silent beat and then Blair prods, "Is he now?"

"Yep, to see a Disney on Ice show," she answers, puckers her lips as she drops her gaze to Nate's mouth, "I hope it's a Princess one."

"Well," Chuck draws the word, his gaze still on his best friend, "Isn't that…" he pauses, "Cute."

"Yeah," Serena agrees, nodding against Blair's shoulder, "Guess what?"

Blair sighs and humors her, "What, Serena?"

"I'm going as his girlfriend…"

Blair starts, tries to yank herself away from Serena, to look into her face, but the blonde won't let go; keeps her hold tight and her eyes on Nate as Blair snaps, "What?!"

Nate's still watching her, "You… are?" He wonders and there's a questioning note in his voice that hurts her heart.

But she nods again, against Blair's shoulder. "Hmm-yeah…"

"You are, what?" Blair asks, looks at Nate and back to Serena, "When did…? His… girlfriend?" She wonders.

Serena lifts her head, says, "Guess what?" again and meets Nate's gaze.

Blair shifts herself on the sofa and stares at Serena's, "What?!"

"For real," she announces.

And Nate blinks, puts the sticky bun down, "Real…?"

And she nods at him, "Total real."

He stands up at that and she pushes off the sofa, takes a step towards him.

"Real?" he repeats.

They're in front of each then and she bites her lip a little, nods. "Yeah," and she thinks of all the things that can go wrong and how this isn't a mistake even if any of that does; because it's simple and easy— and even when it's not, it's them and true.

He smiles at her, like he's reading it all in her eyes; and he touches her face, fingers on her cheek, opens his mouth… but before he can say a word she giggles, high-pitched and happy and leans back from him, "You're sticky!" She accuses, wipes at her face.

Nate stares at her for a beat and then he looks at his hand and he grins, "Oh that's not sticky…?" he murmurs.

And she takes a step back laughs. He leans down and quickly swipes a sticky bun from the plate.

"Don't!" She shouts and takes a bigger step back, "I'm your girlfriend!"

"And you love these," he informs her, following her.

She sidesteps the couch and holds her hands out as she runs backwards away from him, "Nate—I'm wearing pajamas!" She says laughingly, "I sleep in these!"

He bounds after her, "You don't have to!"

And he grabs her around the waist when she comes up against the counter, pulls her up close to him; she laughs and squeaks and buries her face in his shoulder.

Blair watches them as they jump around the suite in nonsensical joy; and then looks at Chuck, arcs an eyebrow, "What just happened?"

He shrugs, sips hot chocolate, "Declarations of love and the dawn of a new relationship?"

"They're a couple now?"

He smirks a little, looks oddly smug, "Apparently."

Blair blinks, looks again at the blondes across the room— and there's Nate with Serena pressed into his shoulder biting into the sticky bun and Serena lifting her head and opening her mouth, there's Nate holding it to her and her taking a big bite and the kiss they share a moment later…

She looks at Chuck again, "I still want to go first."

And he smirks at her, "What will you trade me for it?"

.the end.