This collection of one-shots has been written as a Christmas gift to my dear Daphne. Her prompt was quite specific: she asked for a fanfiction portraying Chuck and Henry's relationship during the first months of the youngest Bass' life. I chose to follow the course of a year through six one-shots of different length. Reading, you'll realize that they focus mainly on Chuck and his feelings, even when seen through other characters' eyes. As I said this was a precise request, other than something that I really wanted to explore. I didn't mean to underestimate motherhood and, consequentially, Blair's role in her son's life; it simply isn't the main topic of these pieces.

I also must say that I don't have a deep knowledge of babies, which is why the fanfiction required a lot of researches. I tried to be as truthful as possible, reading up on each stage of babies' growth and babies care as much as possible to be able to give a more detailed picture. Still, I might not have been perfectly accurate and I apologize in advance about possible inexactitudes. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions.

September 20th, 2014

The surprising, clear sound of his son crying for the first time shook Chuck from the state of absolute fear he had been in till then.

The eight and an half hours that Blair had spent in labor had been the longest and the most terrifying of his life. Although his hands had never left his wife, strong and comforting in their hold despite the terror drying his mouth, the so called miracle of birth had caught him unprepared and he had found himself helpless in front of the inevitable agony he had seen her struggling with. To his shocked, wide open eyes, birth had looked frightening and painful rather than extraordinary.

Up to this moment, at least. Now that their baby had come to the world, wrinkly and screaming, his healthy, strong lungs taking their first breaths of life, Chuck finally understood the meaning of the word miracle; he comprehended it fully and yet he felt absolutely overwhelmed by it, unable to distinguish and give a name to any of the emotions swirling in his chest.

He watched, dazed, as the nurse laid their newborn against Blair's breast. The woman kindly congratulated them, but Chuck wasn't listening. The spontaneity with which his wife had taken their son and carefully cradled him in her arms, her movements delicate but confident as if she had done it hundreds of times before, had left him stunned.

He couldn't take his eyes off of them, his lips slightly parted in amazement in front of the precious moment he was witnessing. Blair beamed through the happy tears streaming down her face and started counting the baby's fingers, one by one, murmuring words that Chuck couldn't quite catch.

"Chuck, come here," she called for him after a minute, her voice shaky from exhaustion and her own overcoming emotion. "Come look at him, come meet him."

But Chuck couldn't move. He stood there immobile, a step away from the edge of Blair's bed, unable to do anything if not becoming aware of the fact that the frantic racing of his heart was pure, paralyzing fear. He was scared of touching his tiny, perfect and completely innocent son, scared to hurt him – and not just with an abrupt movement, but to hurt him, with his inadequacy, in a deeper and irreparable way.

He had no idea how to be a father and how to love a baby, an uncorrupted life that depended on him and that he was responsible for. He had never experienced the instinctive, unconditional love of a parent; he had known disdain and hatred instead, abandon or, at best, indifference. What if he was too broken to teach his son about affection and acceptance and too damaged to make him see the beauty and the bliss of life?

"Chuck," as if she had been able to read his thoughts, Blair called him again. "Please, get closer," she encouraged him, her tone now calmer and soft, as she reached out with her hand to grab his. She squeezed it in a reassuring way. "You can touch him, I promise you won't hurt him."

Although weak, her gentle grasp was enough to make him glance up at her. She was smiling warmly at him, her eyes still glistening with tears. Even if she was pale and worn out, her face was glowing with the most blatant and delirious happiness, and Chuck thought that she had never looked more beautiful or stronger to his eyes.

It was a constant in his life, the way her firm, enduring courage and her empathy managed to stop him from drowning in his inner torturing; she had always had the power to bring him back to reality, to catch him when he was about to fall – metaphorically and not. He just had to trust her and follow her touch.

And so he did. Chuck took a step towards the bed and, cautiously, he sat down next to her. He looked down at their son again and held his breath. As tiny and defenseless as he was, the newborn seemed to be comfortable, safe in his mother's careful and expert embrace, and Chuck was still too afraid to ruin that beautifully natural contact to touch him.

Again, it was Blair who slowly guided his hand closer to the baby's face. "He's your son, Chuck," she told him when he stopped her right before his fingers could brush against their son's cheek. "He needs to know his dad."

Chuck suddenly raised his eyes on his wife, gripped by fear. "What if I can't?" he managed to ask her hoarsely, swallowing the tight lump in his throat with difficulty. Can't be a good father, can't love him enough, can't protect him and can't give him what he needs; his vague question gave voice to these and many other fears – and none of them seemed to have an easy resolution.

Yet, in the instant Blair's smile widened and she lightly shook her head, Chuck understood that, somehow, she recognized all of his insecurities and knew how to silence them. She had always known.

"Just touch him," she said, her voice sweet but secure.

In her arms the newborn had started to fuss, forcing Chuck to look back at him. He blinked. Maybe it was that simple; maybe he was just supposed to follow his instinct and the way he was longing to meet his son, his hand shaking in Blair's heartening hold as he stared at him, unable to avert his gaze.

Chuck leaned in and, taking a deep breath, he finally allowed himself to run a trembling finger down the baby's cheek. It was then it hit him, the deepest joy and the most powerful, completely absorbing, unconditional love he had ever felt. It was immediate, pure, and, regardless of his lacking skills when it came to recognizing and accepting feelings, he acknowledged it straightaway, as he lightly stroked his son's face and then took his minute hand in his.

It was real. He had a son, a small, unarmed human being to protect at the peak of his possibilities; a baby who wouldn't have had to struggle to learn how to love and being loved in return, who would have lived an uncomplicated, happy existence. The warmth and the support of a doting family would have made him strong and confident enough to face the word with a light heart and the certainty that he was always safe and never truly lonely, that he was special, essential to someone – to a father and a mother who treasured him and cared for him.

"Henry," Chuck uttered in a shaky whisper, a simple word that summed up his thoughts and hopes. Tears filled his eyes and, unashamed, he did nothing to repress them, letting them slip free down his cheeks instead.

It wasn't the first time they discussed this name; they both liked it, but, up to this moment, Henry had been simply one of the options they had come up with. Now, though, Chuck felt clearly that it was the name he wanted his son to have. It sounded like a promise, a symbol of the life he wanted to give him.

He turned his head to look at Blair and he was relieved to see her nodding. She hadn't stopped smiling at him. "It really fits him," she commented, squeezing his hand once more to let him know that she had understood his reasons. "It's a name for a prince; Henry Charles Bass. It's regal."

Chuck, full of unspeakable gratitude, smiled back at her. He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and ducked his head, placing a kiss on her temple, his hand still tentatively searching Henry's cheeks and forehead. "I love you," he whispered in her ear, taking the chance to breath her in, "I love you both so much."

"I love you too," Blair guided her hand to his face, cupping it and wiping his tears away with her thumb. Their eyes met for a brief moment when he laid his forehead against hers, but soon both of their gazes were drawn again by their baby boy. "He's perfect, Chuck," she spoke through a thin, teary giggle.

Chuck grinned. "Perfect," he echoed his wife. He bent forward and, gently, he kissed Henry's forehead for the first time – the first of many, he promised himself as his lips skimmed over the soft skin.

He realized in that moment that his life had changed forever. He wasn't just someone's husband anymore; he was also – and most importantly – someone's father, a fundamental part of the family they had built. He had a beautiful wife and a precious to take care of, and, embracing them, he didn't feel frightened by the responsibility of being so indispensable, but complete and full of pride.

Fear would have come back (just a minute later, an excessively alarmed Chuck would have followed the nurse as she brought Henry to be weighted and cleaned up, scared at the thought of leaving him in incapable hands – hands that weren't his or Blair's), but that was natural. It only meant he was aware that he had something lose – everything, actually, because he knew his family was his whole world.

For now, however, it was forgotten. All he could feel was fulfillment and overwhelming joy.

Notes:

[1] About the date I picked for Henry's birth: I am one of those who think that Henry was 3 years old in the flash-forward of the last episode. I am also convinced that Chuck and Blair waited an year after their wedding before trying to expand their family. In my head-canon, Blair was pregnant by the end of December 2013.

[2] My opinion on why Chuck and Blair decided to name their son Henry is slightly different from the one most of the fandom has. While most of Chair shippers think it about Chuck being a better man, I think it's more about Henry having the possibility to live a life his father couldn't live, free from the struggles and the pain that inevitably made Chuck who he is.

[3] English is not my first language, I'm Italian. I apologize for possible mistakes.

[4] A big thank you to my dear Daphne for trusting me to write about this beautiful and delicate topic.