A/N: This was meant to be posted on Father's Day when I really finished writing it, but then I felt like I needed to add more angst to address my original point, and then I felt like I wanted to be more fluffy & it would take longer…yadda yadda yadda. Anyways, here it is. Please review! ;p

*I own nothing! No beta this time either, sadly.

…

She found him brooding in the chair by the window, his arm lingering by the handle to recline the chair backwards. It was amusing, somewhat, that he couldn't push himself to make comfort a bigger priority, but she knew the reason for the dazed, intent look on his face. Even though many years had passed and the anniversary of Bart's death really was the most sullen day out of the year for him, she knew the day's significance was not lost on him. His toddler son announcing it with a wide smile and paper card when he woke soon enough would definitely brighten Chuck's day and almost make him forget the nature of which made him so somber now.

But that would be then. Now he needed the comfort of his wife. He could handle a lot of things, and he had come far since the night he almost jumped off of Victrola in his desperate grief. Still, her loving arms and soft lips against him would speed the recovery along of what always seemed to tint his normally fresh-breathing air.

"Chuck."

He tensed, feeling her body so near him as she kneeled beside the chair and intertwined her fingers with the ones dangling by the side of the chair. She pressed kisses to his hand and smoothed her flat palm up his bare forearm.

"Happy Father's Day," she whispered into his ear, just as he was starting to soften again. She closed her eyes in the renewed tension she felt. She kissed his cheek and then cradled his face in her hands, turning it until his eyes met hers. She leaned forward and kissed his sweet, full lips. He softened again and pulled her onto the chair, needing to feel her warmth closer wrapped around him.

"You're brooding," she murmured against him, her head nestled in the crook of his neck several minutes later.

He held her tightly to him. "Not anymore," he told her, not bothering to deny the fact. "You stopped me."

She sighed gently and played with the collar of his shirt. "I wish you wouldn't, you know."

"I know." He kissed the side of her forehead. "It's getting better."

She lifted her head to look him in the eye. "Your son loves you."

He smiled faintly.

"You're such a wonderful father." She brushed the straying locks of brown out of his face. A slow smirk curled onto her lips. "And a fantastic husband, I might add."

Heat filled his eyes, despite the original point she'd been trying to make. His fingers squeezed into her hip and gripped the smooth skin of her thigh.

"Really now?"

She smiled wider, leaning in to kiss him. "But it's not husband's day." She stopped a breath away from his lips.

He tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth before she could pull away, and then he kissed her hard. "Fathers should be appreciated though. And not just by their children." His hand moved to her stomach and the moment immediately turned intimate from stifling hot.

Blair placed her hand over his and kissed him again.

"What do you say, baby girl?"

Blair quirked an eyebrow.

Chuck directed his gaze towards her stomach. "Will you let mommy rock daddy's world?"

Blair rolled her eyes, but lifted his chin for another scorching kiss. She was about to settle more snugly against his obvious coming erection, but an interruption of the most conflicting kind stopped both of them from getting more…involved.

"Daddy?"

Blair raised her head and turned herself around, so she was sitting on one side of Chuck's lap, grateful that no clothing had been removed before her son had pattered down the stairs to give his father the father's day card he'd worked so hard on the day before.

"Yes, Miles, what is it?"

The three year old seemed to bypass the strange exchange he'd seen between his parents in the single moment it had taken to get his father's attention. He practically skipped over to his parents sitting on the chair in the living room and handed over his card promptly.

Chuck took the folded sheet decorated in crayons, stickers, and markers and read through the gloriously indecipherable piece of beauty. One thing stood out among the rest.

I love you, Daddy

Love, Miles

Chuck's smile was unabashedly shining on his face. Blair could feel the warmth welling up inside him. Subconsciously she squeezed his hand, participating in the joyful, memorable moment between father and son.

"I love it," Chuck said, motioning for his son to come over to him. The hug seemed to last forever but Chuck could not get the wonderful smell of his son's freshly shampooed hair out of his senses.

"Happy Father's Day," Miles murmured. Chuck smiled against him. When they finally pulled away, Miles frowned briefly, his eyebrows furrowing. "What were you and mommy doing before?"

Chuck's jaw dropped briefly before sharing a somewhat startled and yet curiously seductive look with Blair. He then turned back to his son and smirked proudly, his ego officially rejuvenated.

"Your mother was just appreciating me, Miles." He tousled his son's hair. "It's important for mothers to do that on father's day."

Miles still looked somewhat confused, but seemed to accept the answer. "Alright," he said. He switched his gaze to his mother. "Mommy, can we eat breakfast now?"

Blair managed to tone down her surprised, enthusiastic glow to a mere happy motherly love. "Of course, sweetheart. Go tell Dorota what you want and we'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," he turned around and happily walked towards the kitchen, half skipping along the way.

Blair turned her face back towards her husband's and kissed him passionately again. Then, without a word she stood to her feet and started walking away in the direction her son had gone. She turned to look at him just before she was out of sight and raised an eyebrow as a sign of challenge.

Chuck felt the blood heat his veins, his heart pounding and lower regions beginning to throb. He shot to his feet and nearly ran to his wife at the brink of the kitchen. It might be father's day, but his son could surely be temporarily occupied soon enough. The warmth of his home and his wife and his son had overwhelmingly washed away the brooding that had occupied his morning thus far. And it would no doubt be washed away completely when he lost himself in the ever consuming fire Blair Cornelia Bass always offered.

And Miles. His favorite and only son. The spitting image of himself and his mother. And Bart. Blue eyes and all the love in the world for his mother and his father, Charles Bartholomew Bass. Chuck.

…