Disclaimer: I do not own "Gossip Girl."

Author's Note: Just some more VdB stuff I wish we could have seen. :] Chapter 1 is set as an in-between scene in episode 2.07. It deals with Bart and Serena. Chapter 2 will be set shortly after the same ep and will deal primarily with Bart and Lily. :)

I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!


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"You worry your mother."

She sent him the most scathing, skeptical look she could muster. "Please. Roberto the Italian bastard prince tried that manipulation technique when I was nine."

The corners of his mouth tilted up a little, "I was being sincere," he noted.

She rolled her eyes, "Sincerely trying to manipulate me into being or doing exactly what you want."

"No," he argued calmly, "Sincerely trying to express to you that your behavior upsets your mother who in turn upsets me."

She leaned back fully into the leather seat of the limo, crossed her legs, "Please Bart— I know my mother… my behavior doesn't upset her."

"It does when she's aware of it."

It was the kind of qualification that not many (any?) of her mother's husbands, boyfriends, had made, but it only gave her momentary pause.

This was Bart Bass—Chuck's father. The level of manipulation and sleaze behind those blue eyes was probably off the charts.

"Look Bart, let's be… real here." She stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

Bart inclined his head to one side, studied his wife's daughter across the limo, and did his best not to smirk at her. He doubted the young girl would appreciate the humor in her situation.

"Let's," he agreed.

"You're not my mother's first husband and I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you won't be the last. Husband's one and two had marginal influence over me—I was young, husband three none. I'm sure you can guess what husband four has…"

He studied her another moment, the flashing blue eyes, "You're angry," he determined.

"No! I'm not angry, why would I be angry?! I'm just telling you that I'm not going to bother changing myself to fit your image of a perfect daughter when I'm not your daughter and won't ever be!"

"Perfection is nonexistent."

He would guess by the way her mouth thinned and her jaw clenched that that was the wrong response.

Lily had warned him that daughters could be a bit more difficult than sons.

"Serena, I have no image of a daughter—perfect or otherwise. I simply would like for you to not spend your nights at clubs and lounges which you are far too young to attend."

"And I'm sure you've set this rule down for Chuck too, right?" She hissed.

"Is Charles really the benchmark you would like to live your life by?"

Serena's mouth snapped shut and scowled at him. The last thing she needed was for Bart Bass to make sense.

"I won't be used to project an image. Just because my mother—"

"Do not presume to know what your mother and I are about, Serena," he cut her off, frowning a little; he was getting tired of the belligerence, "I understand that you are accustomed to owing no one an accounting, but that has to change."

She leaned forward, uncrossed her legs and put her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. "Why? Because you're here now?"

The question was pure derision and Bart made a note to tell Lily that daughters could be colossally harder than sons.

"For how long, Bart?" The blonde girl continued, "If Chuck's not the benchmark to live my life by whose fault is that? I know you're never around, probably better than my Mom does. I'm not going to pin my hopes on you; on expecting you to stick around… you'll just vanish as soon as I've gotten the hang of putting underwear on."

Maybe he recoiled a little bit at that.

Then he studiously refrained from glancing anywhere below his stepdaughter's face, "Perhaps we could stop referring to your undergarments, yes?"

"Would that end this little chat?" She asked straightening, "Why are you even here? Don't you have an ivy leaguer or two under employ who can do guard duty for you?"

"Several," Bart admitted, "But as I said, I would like to take you home."

Serena's stony stare and silence in response to that almost made him sigh, almost.

Instead he shrugged a little, "I was hoping we could come to an amnesty." He continued.

Serena eyed him for another moment.

"Did you have terms in mind?" She wondered, her tone making it clear she was not agreeing to anything.

He nodded, looked vaguely pleased, "Yes. You will behave in a manner befitting a well-educated seventeen year old high school student."

The limo was silent after this proclamation.

She made a face at him, lifted a hand, "And?"

He blinked at her blankly for a moment, then said questioningly, "And… dress appropriately?"

She stared at him— it was an actual question and Serena would have laughed at it if this were anyone else.

"No," she explained, expression pinched, "You're supposed to offer me something now, that's how it works."

"Ah," he said, nodding his head once, a quirk to his lips that almost looked like a smirk, "Is it…?"

She glared a bit, "Yes— like you will never manipulate Eric again, ever." She spat.

His almost-smirk vanished, "I did not—"

"But Bart Bass isn't much for compromise, is he?" She questioned sardonically, cutting him off, her eyes flashing, "Why are we even wasting our time? It's not like—"

"You expect the worst of me." He cut in, the sentence not a question; his eyes studying her intently, almost curiously.

Serena scoffed, tossed her hair, "I don't expect anything from you and you shouldn't expect anything from me. We're not anything to one another—you're just the latest guy to marry my Mom."

Bart thought maybe he'd never been more thankful for Chuck's subversive defiance in his life than in the silence that followed that statement; that he knew how to deal with, how to nip in the bud, this outward show of anger, this dismissive response, was so uncomplicatedly hostile it took him off guard.

There was no posturing with this girl; she did not like him, she would go out of her way to show this, to say it— and that was a problem and somehow oddly amusing.

His silence seemed to unnerve her and suddenly she was speaking again, "Look Bart," she sighed, bit her lip, "I think if we just stay out of each other's way, we'll be fine, okay?"

It was her olive branch, he should take it.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he said firmly, "I'm committed to your Mother, Serena, to this family. Staying out of your way— is not an option."

She stared at him, like he'd just spoken in a foreign language.

He stared back, because really, what more could he say to her? Her gaze shifted away from him a moment later, dropped to her lap.

Serena wasn't sure what to make suddenly, of husband number four. He was just like the others, worse even— controlling and a hypocrite… right?

She cut her gaze to him, eyed him through her lashes— he was Bart Bass, Chuck's father... and she knew well enough that Chuck was not what he seemed… maybe she could hold off judgment, give this all time, like Eric wanted.

She lifted her head, drew in a deep breath. Bart eyed her speculatively.

"So can we make it 1:30 instead?"

Bart squelched the desire to insist that she just do as he asked. There would be time enough for that later, instead he inclined his head, "I will discuss it with your mother, for the time being, 1:00…"

She considered him for another moment and then rolled her eyes, sighed dramatically, "Oh fine, but next time you go away bring me back something in blue, okay?"

There was a smile playing on her lips and Bart quite nearly frowned, not at her, but at her sudden turnaround in attitude. Is this what daughter's did? Flip from angry defiance to amused teasing for no discernable reason?

The limo slid to a stop in front of their building then.

He nodded slowly, "I will make a note of it," he paused, then shrugged as the driver opened the door for them, "Any particular shade?"

And the hint of a smile broke out into a grin, as she hopped out in front of him, "You don't know?! Are you saying Chuck didn't get his fashion savvy from you?"

He smirked at that, shrugging out of his jacket as he stepped out behind her, "I can't say I have any claim to Charles's unique sense of style…"

She tossed him a smile as they went inside, but it faltered as they got onto the elevator.

"Is she really mad?" She asked hesitantly.

He gave her a one-shouldered shrug, "I think Eric calmed her down, for the most part."

Serena sighed, didn't look very relieved though.

Bart studied her profile as they rode up. "You should know," he told her, because this was important, "I appreciate Eric for exactly who he is."

Her head whirled towards him, eyes widening. He sounded sincere, she thought with surprise, "I—"

The doors opened before she could speak and he stepped towards them, motioned for to precede him.

She blinked at him, he didn't expect a response; he just wanted her to know.

She closed her mouth and nodded at him, offered him a tiny, genuine smile as she stepped out of the elevator. He returned it, just as tiny and heartfelt, as he slung his jacket over his shoulder and together they turned into the oddly silent living room.


TBC.