So this is what I have started to do to avoid revision…write random one-shots, that don't really have much point! Anyway, please read and review.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl etc.
He sighed, looking at his watch in anger. He shouldn't still be here, he should be on his way home to his beautiful wife and son right now. But this stupid man was still moaning on and on about the importance of this investment, how it would change the company, globalize it, bring it into the 21st century. In Chuck's opinion, he had already done all of that, and he couldn't care less what this guy was talking about. But he had promised his father he would take care of it.
As he finally signed on the dotted line, the boring man waiting eagerly behind him, he felt a huge relief. Now, finally, he could leave.
As he got into his limo and it started driving off, he glanced out of the window, wondering to himself whether he missed all this or not. The bright lights, the loud noises, the drunk women wandering about the streets. He had certainly enjoyed the playboy lifestyle, but he knew it was worth it. Not just for the final approval of his father, but for Blair, and for Freddie. He wouldn't have them now. He would be going back to an empty house, either to get drunk or to sleep with a random girl, one who definitely wasn't as hot as his wife.
He turned his key in the lock and immediately heard footsteps coming towards him. The door was pulled open to reveal the mini-version of himself, scarf and all.
"Daddy!" The excited, pyjama clad boy rushed up to him, arms stretched out, a huge beam on his face. Chuck scooped him up as though he was a football, throwing him upwards effortlessly.
"Shouldn't you be in bed, Freddie? It's nearly 10 o'clock!" He spoke sternly, but with no true anger. The little boy looked up at him with a mischievous smirk that Chuck knew all too well. "That's a definite yes, young man."
Father and son walked down the hallway to Freddie's bedroom, as the younger told his father all about how he had met a girl in kindergarten today, and she had asked especially to sit next to him. The pride in his voice made Chuck want to laugh. Like father like son. Always.
Chuck kissed the boy goodnight and, as he was switching off the light, he turned back to his son, smiling cheekily at him. "Don't think I didn't notice the scarf, Freddie. Don't worry, you can keep it." And he closed the bedroom door, walking back to the entrance hall.
His phone beeped, and he pulled it out, looking unenthusiastically at the screen. It was just another email from one of his interns, trying to suck up to 'the big man'. He groaned and put on the table in the hall, emptying the keys and wallet in his pocket too.
"Oh Charles." His head whipped around as he heard the voice, sweet, sexy, beckoning. And on the bottom of the step lay a single rose. His gaze strayed upwards, and there she was. His beautiful wife, standing at the top of the stairs, clad only in small and very see through night gown.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" He says as he walks towards his wife, taking in every little detail of her appearance. Her hair is down, something that doesn't happen too often anymore, now that she is a working mother, and the brown curls cascade onto her shoulders in a glorious fountain of chocolate. Her make-up is understated, mascara and blusher, just the right amount so that he can tell it's still her. And she is wearing her Michael Kors scent, the same one she wore at their wedding.
"Call it…love." She teased playfully, as he took a hold on her hips, grinding them against his, and swept her tiny body into his arms, pressing his lips against hers. She moaned as he pushed her up against the wall, his hands roaming her body hungrily, and his mouth caressing hers more and more forcefully, but with the same gentle touch he always has. "If I didn't know better, Bass, I'd say it's the same for you."
"Shame you know me so well then."
She giggled in a very un-Blair way, and took hold of his hands, leading him towards their bedroom. He followed her through the door, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. The room was dimly lit, but he could still see, out of the corner of his eye, the roses littered about the floor, and the two scarves, new scarves, creating a path to the bed.
She didn't give him a chance to take it all in though, she just pulled him forcefully down on to the bed, ever in control, and kissed him with the same passion and longing as the first time they ever kissed, in that limo, just a pair of drunken and clueless teenagers. They had come so far now.
And it was still all the small things that meant something to him.