gossipgirlfics

illicit affairs-serena and tripp

She hadn't meant for it to go this far. But then Serena van der Woodsen never meant  to do anything. She just kind of floated in and out of everything, adored by everyone in her path, coasting along with barely passing grades and scuffed up knees, smelling like cigarette smoke and bootleg perfume and bittersweet youth and regret more poignantly than anything. Part of her had grown up too fast, discarded by daddy, neglected by mommy, only ever getting attention from the boys years older than her who'd kiss her sloppily and never quite meet her eyes, and part of her had never grown up at all, forever the kid she'd never gotten to be, eating brown sugar pop-tarts in bed and never taking life too seriously and "laughing like a five year old" as Dan had put it. She'd never made the best decisions. But she'd thought even her childish impetuousness wouldn't cross this line. Tripp was married. And a congressman. This was wrong. She knew that. But they'd both stayed late last night and filing paperwork had been so horribly boring that her eyes had wandered over to him and his eyes had already been on her. They'd been there all night if he was honest, though he rarely was. She'd shied away, tried to focus, but he'd pressed a kiss to her knuckles, feather-light, just chaste enough to keep her from feeling guilty. A friendly kiss on the hand, that was all. It was sweet, just a goodnight between friends, innocent enough, at least if they'd been living in medieval times. But his kisses grew more fervent and she tried to tell herself he was being sweet, being chivalrous, but truth was he wanted her, and she wanted him, and as his kisses made their way to her lips, finally, she didn't push him away. She could feel the cold metal of his ring pressed up against her face, but she refused to be pulled out of her reverie. 

The next morning he was in a hurry for her to "get home." He tossed his coat over her telltale figure and she told herself he was being thoughtful. He could barely look her in the eyes as he told her goodbye. She wished she could stay. As nice as it had been, she didn't just want this with him. The passionate nights were fun but she wanted the long days, the crappy coffee, the boring news shows and the even more boring political rallies, the hours and hours of talking about anything and everything, getting to show him off to the whole world. But he already had that. With Maureen. His wife. God, she was awful for this. But he was smiling at her and asking to see her again and she was saying yes before she could think.

She saw him that night, for a good twenty minutes in the confines of his car. It was cramped and uncomfortable and rushed and the thrill of getting caught had lost its rush. But she still said she'd be there tomorrow.

And so it went, on and on for weeks on end, until finally she broke down. 

"I can't do this anymore," she sighed.

"Calm down," he sighed. 'Think about this. You're just tired." 

His voice was condescending as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, dismissing her feelings with some contrived, faux maturity. "I'm not a fucking kid!" Serena snapped. 

"Baby please," he sighed, and now his voice was the worn-out, work-weary one.

"I'm not your baby either!" she yelled, forgetting all about quiet and secrecy. "I'm not your anything!"

And he shushed her then because she wasn't wrong but the truth was too loud. As he pulled her close she tried to hold onto her anger but she just let him hold onto her instead. She didn't care if it was self-destruction. She was okay with the tears as long as he'd be the one to catch them.