A/N: Many apologies for such a long note, but there are a couple things that might require explanation. Just Desserts was my first story and I originally planned it to be a one-shot. It developed (seemingly of its own will) into something larger. It was so full of angst that I wanted to end on a good note but didn't want to sacrifice much needed emotional growth (on both characters' parts). I solved this conundrum by adding a fifth chapter as an epilogue that flashes forward four months to Chuck's birthday. I didn't count on wanting to write the story of how Chuck and Blair got to a somewhat happy ending (or beginning as is the case).

Basically, if you've read Just Desserts you know how this is going to end. However, I hope that you are as curious about their journey to finding each other as I am. (And I'll try to keep the angst to a minimum.)

Finally, I started this before Monday's episode, so please forgive my literary license.

If I say it, he wins and if he wins, then I'll just... be another girl to him.

What are you waiting on? Go be better.

Blair gazed at her bedroom clock, sighing dejectedly as the seconds ticked by. Nine days. Three hours. She wasn't so sure of how many minutes, but she thought it might be 17. That's how long it had been since she had made the most dim-witted decision of her life.

Chuck had been on the verge of saying those three little words until she had stopped him. Told him that it wasn't enough. That she deserved better.

She needed to have her head examined.

What originally started as a good plan (secretly christened the "Scare Bass Straight" project) was tearing her resolve to shreds. Turned out that almost hearing those magic words was a hundred times worse than hearing "that's too bad." And this time, she only had herself to blame.

During the past nine days, three hours, and 18 or so minutes, she'd replayed the scene over in her head a thousand times. Each time longing for a different ending, cursing the little voice inside her head that whispered despite the second thoughts, she made the right choice. Chuck needed time to work through his daddy issues. Then maybe he'd be ready to be in a real relationship. One where she didn't have to worry about him picking up a random call girl instead of dinner. The type of relationship that a girl like her ought to have.

But in the end, despite what Blair Waldorf did or did not deserve, she wanted Chuck Bass. Badly.

She missed his pervy comments, snide smirk, and annoying squint. The flamboyant wardrobe that clashed against the drab standard black uniform of New York. The silly semi-whisper that he proudly considered his "scotch voice."

She missed her plotting partner. Her friend. Her lover.

She missed the old Chuck. The one that didn't cut her to the core with sarcasm. The one that had met her on the rooftop of a Brooklyn art gallery, eyes brimming with anticipation.

She was sure the old Chuck was there, buried somewhere deep inside the Basshole underneath layers of drugs, alcohol, and lord knows what else. Like Cyrus told her (what seemed like a lifetime ago), he just needed time.

Blair blinked and the minute hand ticked up a notch. Nineteen minutes.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered to the empty room. Constance's Queen B did not mope around her bedroom all day, pining after him. No, she did what came naturally. She took matters in to her own hands.

Half an hour later, Blair was on her way to the van der Bass apartment, primped and curled, with a cover story in hand thanks to a last minute text from Serena.

She had practically begged Chuck to be better. Sure, he could do it on his own. But what was the harm in helping him speed up the process?

Chuck Bass was the type of man who took what he wanted and worried about the consequences later. Despite years of haughty disapproval, his father hadn't been able to curb this headstrong tendency. That Lily was trying to do just that was laughable. After all this time together, she should know better than to try to restrain Chuck's natural tendencies. Forbidden fruit tasted the sweetest and there was something truly delectable just begging for his attention in the next room.

He eased opened his bedroom door and peered down the hallway. Thankfully, it was van der Woodsen (and, more importantly, Humphrey) free. Chuck quietly slipped into the hallway, doing his best to camouflage the sound the bedroom door closing behind him. He trekked towards the living room, all the while trying to squash the pang that developed somewhere in the vicinity of his heart at disobeying Lily's wishes. They might have had their differences, but Lily had come through for him and was quickly turning out to be more of a parent than he'd had before. Considering Bart's parenting skills, it wasn't saying much.

With one last sweeping glance to ensure the coast was clear, Chuck slipped into the kitchen and came face-to-face with his greatest temptation. Any second thoughts fled his mind as he reached out to touch his obsession. He was like an addict and the van der Woodsen's knew, that faced with his drug of choice, he would cave sooner or later.

Unable to resist a moment longer, he traced the black etched onto the cream colored box. Patisserie Claude. Not only a premier bakery on the Upper East Side, but producers of the best French pastries this side of the Atlantic. Savoring the moment, Chuck breathed deeply and opened box. Nestled inside were six absolutely scrumptious chocolate éclairs. His favorite. Lily was delusional if she thought he'd be able to resist them until tonight's familial gathering with the Brooklynites.

He hesitated to mar the perfection. The éclairs from Patisserie Claude were truly a work of art. Like a Jackson Pollock or the Mona Lisa. They deserved to be appreciated for their beauty and—

"Fuck it," Chuck muttered as he bit into the cream-filled confection. His eyes closed in ecstasy as his taste buds leapt to life.

He was just about to lick the chocolate from his fingers when the ding of the elevator and the sound of footsteps let him know he'd been caught red-handed. Not wanting to waste even a bit of culinary Heaven, he stuck his finger in his mouth and turned to face his executioner.

Of all people, it was her. The brunette who had haunted his thoughts for the better part of a week.

"Elle?" he said, the surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled tentatively. "I need your help."

Blair held the elevator door open unable to believe her eyes. Chuck was in the kitchen of Serena's apartment and very much involved in kissing a petite brunette. So involved, that he didn't notice they were no longer alone.

For a moment, she was back at Victrola, watching as he draped himself with women and listening as he spewed words that broke her heart. Broke her.

Never again. Blair stepped towards the back of the elevator and let the doors shut Chuck Bass out of her life. For the past nine days, she had moped around like some lovesick puppy. Apparently, the Basshole hadn't given her a second thought.

She tried to hold the tears back, but it was just too much. First the drama with her almost expulsion, then her father's crushing disappointment, and now this. She let them fall and soothe her ragged emotions. She was just so tired of trying and failing. Her life was supposed to be perfect with him in it. But, in the end, it didn't matter. She was just another girl in Chuck's rolodex of conquests.

As the elevator neared the first floor, Blair pulled herself together and made a resolution. Hell would freeze over before she let Chuck Bass touch her, or her heart, again.

tbc