Author's Note: This is my response to the prompt for the first day of the second Chair Week, birthdays (Chuck's or Blair's).
The tie is reverently held in his hands, held as he studies the pattern and the design. Or, maybe he's just fascinated by the feeling of fine silk sliding through his tiny fingers. But Chuck watches him and contemplates how much his son is like him, how much his son enjoys the craftsmanship of a Turnbull and Asher tie. And then he loses those thoughts with a chuckle as tiny hands stuff the tie into an open mouth, as the little baby in his arms gums happily on the paisley tie around his father's neck.
"No, no," Chuck says, moving one hand from supporting Henry's bum to retract the tie from his son's mouth. He smooths the tie back down against his chest, but the wet stain stands out darkly against the fabric and Chuck knows the tie will have to be added to the pile of clothes damaged by Henry's spit up and other projectiles. "No eating Daddy's tie, Henry."
His son looks at him in surprise, in disbelief that his father would deny him so. His face scrunches up with his indignant wail and his fingers reach out to grab the tie again. But Chuck intercepts him, snatching the stuffed bear off the table beside the glider and offering it to Henry as his consolation prize. The baby ceases his tears, his cries for a moment as he contemplates the offer, and then he happily accepts the present sent to him from Paris by his Grandpa and Roman.
The nose of the bear taps against his own before disappearing into his mouth to be chewed on, gummed on with a content sigh. His dark eyes connect with his father's and sparkle with contentment, with happiness as he kicks his legs excitedly. Long fingers tickle feet clothed in a soft romper; earn the tickler a giggle as his fingers skim against the romper that's the same color as Mommy's dress and Daddy's tie, creating connecting lines so more than just rings, genetics, and a surname tie them together.
The door opens and the noise from the party two floors down assaults his ears. Henry releases the bear, turns his head in a motion that mimics his father's as Chuck looks to the intruder. He squirms in his father's hands, reaching out towards the woman that stands in the doorway.
"I thought I'd find you here," she informs him in a tone that carries her displeasure across the room to where he sits. But he just shrugs off her comments, turns his attention back to Henry, and reaches out to grab the little boy's reaching fingers.
The touch is enough to soothe him, to mollify him into remaining in his father's arms. Henry pops the offered finger into his mouth and sets about gnashing and gumming on it with wide eyes that watch every movement. His mother's fingers trail through his head of brown hair, sweep the strands aside before tapping against his nose in affection.
"It's past his bedtime," his mother reminds his father because it is the truth, because he should have been asleep hours ago. But Henry is a Bass, and he crashes parties he's not invited to just because he can, just because the best parties are the ones for which you have no formal invitation.
"I heard him through the baby monitor," his father tells his mother, because it is the truth, because he walked into the kitchen to tell the caterers that they needed more scotch and heard the baby on the monitor clipped to Dorota's waist.
"You heard him, or you decided that you heard him?" She teases, and he scowls at her suggestion because he learned pretty quickly not to wake a sleeping baby. Even when he returns home after being at work for eleven hours, after he hasn't seen his son since yesterday night. Even when all he wants to do is hold the slumbering baby in his arms and never let him go until Henry knows how loved and wanted and adored he is.
"I think his gums are bothering him," Chuck informs her as he shifts Henry to one side, as he creates a place for Blair to perch herself on his knee and join this moment. She reaches out to stroke Henry's cheek – plump and healthy – and then her eyes flick to the finger in his mouth and the dark spot on her husband's tie.
"I can see that," she replies as she touches the tie. She sets to work undoing the knot, loosening the tie so she can pull it from around his neck. "Our son has expensive taste, but I imagine silk tastes better than those plastic things his pediatrician suggested."
Blair sets to work wounding the tie into a circle, drops it to the small table beside the glider when she's done. And then her hand slides around his neck and her fingers begin to stroke the dark hairs at the nape. He releases a contented sigh because that's what he is – content and happy, surrounded by those he loves and adores.
"Everyone is waiting downstairs for you," his wife says softly. And maybe the displeasure is still there because she puts a lot of work into these things – coming up with a theme, scouting out a location, organizing the caterers, sending out invitations, and then playing hostess all night long. "It's almost time to cut the cake."
And maybe he feels guilty for a moment because he does enjoy a good party and Waldorf women throw some of the best, but this kind of party is her thing not his. Because she enjoys the limelight, enjoys being surrounded by people who love her or envy her or are too afraid to pretend otherwise. But this is new to him, and one of those that loves him – truly loves him – is separated from the party thrown in his honor by two floors and a mutt that guards the door with rabid fervor.
"I saved you a whole plate of éclairs," she informs him as though that might be the final pull to bring him downstairs. He smiles, teasingly asks if she made a sign reserving them for him and everything, and then he laughs when she huffs indignantly. Henry grins at his father's laughter, kicks his feet, and distracts his mother from her protestations.
"Oh, you like that, do you?" She teases the baby as she leans forward to tickle his chest, to tickle the underside of his chin. "You like it when Daddy makes fun of Mommy?"
And Henry just laughs in response – the kind of the laugh that makes his body shake in delight – and his hands reach out to grab the shiny necklace clasped around her neck. He yanks and pulls until she falls closer to him, until she has no choice but to plant a kiss against his lips and blow a raspberry against his cheek.
To which Chuck smiles in amazement because this is prim and proper Blair acting as though it's the most normal of activities to make such a grotesque sound against her son's cheek. Because her son is his son and together they make up the thing that he never had before – a family.
She moves to sit up, pulls the baby out of his arms in the process, and places Henry's head against her shoulder just as soon as he throws a blanket down to protect her dress. And she glows even as Henry shoves her necklace into his mouth, even as his tiny fingers tangle terribly in her hair.
"I suppose we can bring him downstairs," she murmurs after a moment, and he nods his head in agreement at the change of plans. "You know everyone will focus on him instead of you."
She moves to stand up from his lap as she speaks, but his arm loops around her waist and pulls her back down as he asks for five more minutes of just the three of them. He doesn't care if people focus on Henry rather than him because today is just another date to him. But if being married to Blair Waldorf means he must celebrate today, he'd rather spend it sitting in the glider in his son's nursery with both his son and his wife in his arms than be anywhere else.
So he presses his forehead to her shoulder, strokes Henry's back softly, and rubs a tight circle against her hipbone through her dress as the five minutes pass. And then he lets them go, lets them head off downstairs to be fawned over by Lily, Serena, Nate, and the rest of the guests while he heads upstairs to change his tie. But before they go her lips press against his cheek and she presses a tiny, slobbery hand against his other cheek, and he cannot help but think he could get use to these kinds of celebrations as she whispers against his cheek.
"Happy birthday, Chuck."