This is just a little something that came into my head after I viewed a picture (what I presume is an advert) for Tiffany & Co. and thought it was the perfect image of a young Blair (the link is in my profile).
So, naturally, I wrote a fic about it ;)
Apologies for any spelling/grammatical mistakes, it's past 5 in the morning here, and I'm mega tired and have to get up early tomor for a full day of class et al, but I wanted to finish this and get it posted before I finally succumb to sleep because I likely won't get a chance tomorrow ;)
Hope you enjoy…
Title: The Colour of Dreams
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and it's very saddening indeed :'( ;)
Summary: There's more than one reason she likes Tiffany's. Sure, the jewellery is stunning, and those little boxes wrapped in their white ribbon are a delight; but the colour is something else. Oh yes, that Tiffany blue: it's the colour of dreams.
"Love is a promise, love is a souvenir, once given never forgotten, never let it disappear."
She remembers his first words to her, the first time they ever met.
It wasn't in Kindergarten, like most would assume. Nor was it at some intricate play-date orchestrated by the parents and nannies of their pre-school selves.
It was Christmas Eve, 1996.
She was standing under snow-covered trees in Central Park, delicate crystals fluttering in the gentle breeze that curled around her long dark locks; hands held tight to the silver reigns of her sled, cream outfit visible just enough against the powder-cloud surrounding.
Quite the angelic picture really.
And then he appeared.
"It suits you," a young boy's voice spoke from behind her.
She turned her head, chin dipping just below the shoulder she'd raised slightly, and eyed him.
"That Tiffany-blue," he appraised, gesturing to the bow resting neatly atop her curls, while his lips quirked up into a half-smile.
"Thank-you," she replied politely, because she was nothing if not well mannered.
"I thought so too," she added, and sent him her own smile at that; because she was also a self-assured little thing.
"We'd be good together," he said then.
She turned her body to face him at that, visibly looking him up and down; and the hand was on the hip with the raised eyebrow as she retorted, "Oh, you think so, do you?"
He took a step towards her, smirk growing, "I know so."
"We match," his voice was amused, and arrogant.
"How?" she demanded, after looking between the two.
He tutted, and rolled his eyes at her which has her setting her own into a glare.
Raising a hand, he gestured to their faces, pointing out, "Same dark eyes; dark hair."
And then his arm dropped and he fingered the bottom of her top, gaze running across her face and meeting hers once more, as he continued, "Same intriguing dress sense."
His hand was swatted away, and she fixed him with a cool gaze while she haughtily told him, "I don't think so. I'd never wear something as audacious as that."
His smirk nearly bust at the seams then. And in a quick flurry of movements; he moved his hands across to his right shoulder and began un-toggling each fastening in turn, flipping up the hood so the fur lining rested across his fringe, and put a hand on each lapel to open his jacket in a dramatic fashion.
"Meet your fashion requirements, now, Princess?" he asked, eyes sparkling.
She gave him a half shrug, and her lips curved at the edges slightly as she awarded, "Better, but it could still do with some added adjustments."
He rolled his eyes at her antics, turning his head to survey the white backdrop, and dropped his hands to his sides to let his coat flutter in the wind.
"What's that?" she suddenly asked, catching sight of the object held in his grasp.
"Here," he proclaimed, thrusting a tiny box towards her. "Have it."
"What is it?" she questioned, eyeing the item in her hands warily.
"Open it and see," he insisted.
Watching him the whole time, she slowly and gently undid the white ribbon that was wrapped around it and lifted the lid. She gasped as the light reflected off the necklace and the diamonds and silver clasps sparkled under the snow crystals that continued to fall around them.
"It's beautiful," she breathed out, and reached a hand in to touch the piece.
"I know," he commented.
When she snapped her head up to glare at him, he simply winked at her and stated, "You're not the only one with good taste, Princess."
"Hey!" she suddenly seemed to find yet another thing to protest about, and her eyes glued onto his as she proclaimed, "It says 'Please return to Tiffany & Co.' on it!"
He looked at her like he was trying to gauge if she really lived in Brooklyn, and not the UES like he suspected, "Well… "
"That's so that they know you only shop in places that style the best," he recovered with a compliment. "Places worthy of you."
She suddenly burst in a fit of giggles and hit him on the arm as she playfully exclaimed, "I was just testing you. Of course, I know what the little blue box is – 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' is only my most favourite film ever!"
He surveyed her then, complimenting, "You seem like an Audrey kind of girl."
And then he reached forward and retrieved the necklace from its bindings, taking a step behind her. She swept her curls to the side and he closed the clasp, their fingers intertwining as they positioned it so it lay perfectly against her porcelain skin.
"Classic," she appraised.
"Timeless," he approved.
They smiled at one another for a few moments, before her mouth fell into an 'Oh' and her hands flew to her hair.
In one swift flick of the wrist she'd undone the bow that lay atop careful curls and taken a step towards him with the ribbon held in outstretched hands.
"Here," she offered him. "I have to give something to you."
He allowed her to loop the material round his neck and create a masterful large bow between the buttons of his white shirt collars.
When she took a step back to assess her creation, she wore a large smile across her face.
"Much better," she judged him.
He winked at her once more, and remarked, "Only the best for the best."
It was her turn to roll her eyes at him, while he stood there smirking at her; both their eyes glittering in the bright surround.
"Charles!" a man's stern call echoed in the white expanse, breaking them apart.
"Chuck!" the hard voice shook the icicles above them as it drew nearer.
The young boy turned slowly on his heel as a shadow cast itself across the young pair.
"I specifically instructed you not to go gallivanting off without notifying me first, did I not?" he seemed to grit the last part out like his mouth wouldn't open further than baring teeth, eyes boring down onto the child.
"I presumed you knew of my whereabouts," came the reply.
"Mmm," the elder looked like he was chewing on this sound like a dog gnawed a bone and never let go. "You presume too much at times, Charles."
A hand was placed on his shoulder, and without another word, the boy was persuaded to follow the path the man had laid out for him without even a backward glance at the girl he left behind.
She pouted when the circumstances shut her off from their retreat and all she could soon see was the shadow of his figure in the mist, but then she heard their voices.
"What happened to your gift? For Gabrielle?" the elder's voice was as clear and tough as it was when he'd been standing before her.
"Who?" the young boy's voice was disinterested in the void.
"The Italian au pair," came the swift prompt.
"Oh, I don't have it any more," was the aloof response.
"I can see that, I asked what happened to it?" the reply was as cold as the air around them.
"It was deserving of someone better," the enigmatic choice of words had her taking a few steps forward in order to hear.
"I'm not helping you look for it, nor am I endorsing you obtain another one. You'll just have to learn not to be so careless with things that belong to you in future," the elder continued on as if he hadn't heard the other speak at all.
"And what have I told you about harassing young girls, Chuck?" the man's severe questioning cut through the wind, before she could hear the boy's reply.
She winced at how angry he sounded, remembering the hard look on his face and how he'd made his presence known; it made her think of the marble statues in Greece and Rome, expressionless.
"But she wasn't just any girl," her mystery boy suddenly seemed to come to life then; dispute this notion that she could ever belong to anyone else, but him. "She was my girl."
Her lips curved at the edges as her fingers delicately traced the little box in her hands; until they flew into a glorious smile when she remembered how she'd secured her bow around his neck, after he'd fastened his necklace around hers. She was his now, and he was hers.
"We're soul mates," the boy with the dark, intoxicating, eyes said it with so much confidence and so much conviction, it defied their parting
"We're meant to be together, you'll see."
He had faith, even then, he believed.
So, as she holds that certain box tied in white ribbon within her hands, a smile curves her lips.
Maybe it's her turn to believe.
Tiffany blue: the colour of dreams.
A/N: I realise some of the dialogue between Bart and Chuck at the end could be interpreted as being too 'mature' for his age, but I'm going to pass that off under the notion that Chuck was probably not around kids that much when he was young so he'd learn to converse with adult fairly quickly; plus, Bart was one hard-nosed guy, I doubt he'd have babied, or encouraged babying of Chuck even at a young age.
Thanks for reading.
I hope you liked it, and please let me know what you think – it means a lot!