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eleven in the morning in the middle of the hallways of one of my favorite places in the world

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In the midst of their regular MoMA dates, Blair gifts Dan with another revelation.

They walk the halls, fingers brushing, each looking intently at the Diego Rivera exhibit as Blair lectures Dan on how this is only the second monographic exhibition, following only the Matisse one.

"This is monumental, Humphrey. Monumental."

Dan fidgets.

He turns to Blair, clears his throat, and turns away. He does this three times until Blair throws him a glare.

"You're distracted. Spit it out, Humphrey."

"Blair, we're friends right?" tumbles out of his lips almost as soon as Blair admonishes him.

Blair scoffs.

"Don't be silly, Humphrey. Just because I tolerate your maudlin literary references and your Muppet hair doesn't mean I'm actually friends with you." She wrinkles her nose at him. "I'm certain I'm not known for befriending Dickensian street urchins."

Dan huffed, looking mildly offended.

"Blair. Seriously."

Blair bursts out laughing, sticking her tongue at him in an uncharacteristic display of candidness.

"Yes, Humphrey. We are friends. Don't worry your passable Muppet head over it." she intones as she absentmindedly cards her fingers through his hair. "I've actually grown quite fond of you," she whispers quietly.

"Then why don't you call me by my first name?"

The moment is broken. Blair narrows her eyes. "What's gotten into you, Daniel ?"

"You call Serena by her first name. Nate too. And Chuck. You even refer to Jenny as Little J and every GG reader and their mother know you're not fond of her."

Blair stops for a moment. Rationally, she knows she should refer to him as Dan. She knows Dan wants her to refer to him as Dan, even if he still jokingly calls her Waldorf on occasion. She also knows why she doesn't refer to him as Dan, but she's not sure if she's ready for him to know yet.

She looks at him, face earnest, shoulders slouched, her darling Dan in the middle of the hallways of one of her favorite places in the world. She steels herself.

She decides.

"Yes, Dan , " she says, unnecessarily stressing out his name. "We're friends, but I might quite like something more and calling you by your name just might reveal my intentions."

And before he can react, at eleven in the morning, she kisses the corner of his lips in the middle of the hallways of one of her favorite pieces in the world.

For once, Dan has nothing to say.

She starts walking, looks back at him, and holds out her hand. "So, are we finishing this exhibit? The murals aren't going to describe themselves, you know. She pauses. "And I like it when you do."

He grins and takes it.

They can talk about other things later.