Sometimes a beginning is just that; the start. There's no childhood romance, no 'I always knew, in the back of my mind' and certainly never any longing looks from a far.
They'd been friends, better friends than they realised, but at the same time considered the other 'a necessary evil'. He thought her too cold and controlled (though somehow her calculating nature made him like her more) and she considered him a disgusting cliché. They plotted together to bring down other people and there in lay what made their relationship truly special; they weren't afraid. It's hard, around people you want to love you, to be yourself- to let your negative feelings show; your anger, your jealousy, your abandonment. Around each other they didn't have to be scared of rejection.
He knew that the flowers sent to the school for her every Valentine's Day came straight from her own florist, and that she'd hand picked them in advance. She knew that he hated any mention of his birthday, so she intercepted all greetings.
Subsequently, perhaps, maybe, they were closer to each other than their 'perfect' best friends. Yet there had never been any hint, any sense, of romance- until a dance, a limo and a perfect week ruined her entire freaking life!
"It's not your whole life, B."
Blair glares nastily around the bathroom door. "No, you're right, a baby is just for Christmas."
"It'll be-"
"It isn't! It won't! It'll never, ever, ever be 'ok' ever again! My life is over! I'm going to die! I need to die!"
The freak out lasts an hour; she smashes things and attempts to punch Dorota but hurts her hand in the process. Serena holds down her arms and throws her onto the bed.
Chuck arrives at precisely the wrong moment: "If I'd known there would be girl-on-girl I would have brought my camera."
A hurled silver ornament shuts him up. When he stands, wiping away blood, he looks too surprised to be angry. "YOU FERTILE BASTARD!"
Serena snatches away the next intended projectile, "Blair, stop it!"
"What the hell…?" He mumbles, "I didn't even…"
Chuck is still studying the redness on his fingers and is utterly unprepared for a furious blonde attack. Fortunately, she's largely flailing rather than doing actual damage. "How could you let this happen? How! You're the experienced one!"
"I didn't think she'd actually do it!"
All three women stare at him. Even previously silent Dorota, in the corner, scoffs "Worst excuse ever…"
Blair flops back against a profusion of padded cushions, "This is it… this is the end…"
"Oh, stop being so dramatic." He rolls his eyes, more than slightly annoyed at actually having to dirty his pocket-handkerchief. Unable to find a suitable rebuttal (it's the stress of the situation obviously), Blair pouts like a child.
Once Chuck has stemmed the flow of blood from his forehead he carefully sits on the edge of the over-sized bed. Out of punching range but close enough to stop her from throwing anything else.
"That's quite the aim your arm has there, Waldorf."
"That's quite the aim your sperm have, Bass."
"Miss Blair!" Noting the way they'd almost smiled, Serena pulls Dorota out the room before she can become any more of a distraction.
He opens his mouth a few times but has to close it again when nothing appropriate comes to mind. Instead he sits and watches her: for a moment she's dramatic, drawn-out sighs and mutters of 'beyond the pale', silk scarves pulled across her face (still thin enough for her to peek through- because what's a performance without an audience?) Finally, subtly, she settles down and reduces to merely staring at the ceiling. "Crap."
"Yep." Chuck slides off his shoes and rests next to her on the bed, wanting desperately to stroke away her tears but not knowing quite what to do with the feeling.
"You're going to make me get rid of it, aren't you?" She whispers.
"What?"
"You 'have someone', don't you? Someone you send all those girls to? Moneygrubbers who think that if they have a Bass-baby they'll be set for life."
He doesn't and he wouldn't, but he's not surprised that she would think so. They share a look and both attempt to read the other's eyes…
Except perhaps that isn't possible? Perhaps it's just something people say?
"You're not like that."
They sink into silence again until eventually he gives in, rolls onto his side and brushes a single tear from her cheek.
"Your mascara was running." He shrugs at her questioning look.
Blair giggles because of course it's running; her whole face is a mess and she hasn't stopped crying for the past hour! He chuckles back so she shoves him- can they not at least be dignified and pretend she doesn't look like hell? "This is all your fault."
"Technically, it's our fault."
"You sedu-!" She pauses, "You should have stopped me, I was drunk."
"Waldorf, you took your dress off. That isn't conducive to the blood flow towards my brain. Besides, I asked."
"You asked me whether or not I was 'sure'- of course I was sure!"
They sneer indignantly at each other. Blair crosses her arms as best she can whilst lying down. It's ever so slightly disturbing to have him leaning over her like that… possibly in a good way. "So. What do you want to do?
Chuck narrows his eyes, recognising a trick question when he sees one. "What do you want?"
"I don't want to be scrutinised for the next nine months; everyone measuring me with their eyes, wanting to know if they can see just how much fat I've put on… it's undignified! I don't want people talking about me and saying I have bad parents because they have their faults but they're not! And I don't want to give up on my dreams, on going to a good college on- on… I just don't want the world to know I'm pregnant. It's none of their business."
It takes a moment for him to mentally scan through. "Well, what do you want?"
She rests her hands over her stomach and sighs, staying quiet for a moment. "I think I actually want a little person in my life. And not for all the stupid, hackneyed 'mummy never loved me' reasons! I just think…" In all honesty she thinks this might be it, their moment, their chance. What if they don't do it? Don't have this baby. What if they don't and then have to spend the rest of their lives circling each other, never again having this opportunity to… come together…? Blair worries her bottom lip, knows she's starting to think like a pathetic schoolgirl with a crush.
"You want a baby but you don't want anybody to know?"
"Exactly!" She beams, as if it's the easiest thing in the world.
"Plus you don't want to get fat." They nod; well obviously, that's a given.
It was often said that Chuck Bass had never cared about anyone else before Blair Waldorf. Obviously a rather stupid sweeping statement and simplification of the matter- of course he had cared for people before her! He 'cared' for his father, he 'cared' for the memory of his mother, he did, after all, have grandparents (although his memories of them were now a little foggy) and there had been an endless stream of nannies and au pairs. He cared for Nate and, (in a strange twist of 'you've been around me so long I've started to find your eccentricities amusing') he even occasionally enjoyed Serena.
Blair Waldorf was the first person he had cared to do something for. At no other point in his life had he had this odd desire to go out of his way to make someone happy.
It was very disconcerting.
She doesn't turn when he wraps his arms around her but she smiles slightly, "We can do this, Waldorf, we can keep her."
They make a plan. He even lets her colour code it.
Her dietician is an ex-spy and more expensive than her school fees (because Chuck doesn't trust lightly). He keeps her weight just right; on that thin line between a hidden stomach and a healthy baby. Blair claims he's taught her the importance of caring for one's body and that's why she's sworn off alcohol and raw fish. The other girls follow.
The new personal shopper (sleeping with her step-father, Chuck barters silence for pictures) adjusts her style slightly, showing off her delicate wrists and slim calves. The girls all gush over how amazing she looks. Eleanor creates a new type of dress: an empire line with a stiffer bottom half (perfect for those who can't stop themselves from scoffing another muffin or need to cover-up a low-slung teenage pregnancy). Fashion Press everywhere go wild and, of course, her daughter has to be seen wearing it at every event.
Even telling Nate proves surprisingly smooth. Aided by a bag of marijuana and a stiff scotch, he takes it like a man.
Then Serena makes a mistake, or- to be fair- Dan makes a mistake. Sadly, he forgets that sometimes the bonds of kinship aren't stronger than those of a girl and her Gossip. He swears blind to Serena, and then later when bent backwards over a wall by Chuck, that he doesn't even remember what he said; a throwaway comment to Vanessa over the phone that Blair was hiding her weight gain well.
Jenny delights, the news blows up (it's a slow week) and suddenly everyone's staring, critiquing her, guessing just how large the hips under that skirt really are. That night Chuck and Dorota sit with her until she's asleep and then, the next morning, while she dresses- one eye on the bathroom at all times. Serena and Katy (who's surprisingly been found to keep secrets well) trail her around school, slipping into the bathrooms with her.
The furore dies less than a month later when Blair makes a spectacular entrance to the Belgian Consulate's ball in a figure-hugging dress. Certainly, she was displaying more womanly curves, but (with the aid of post-natal control-underwear) no sign of a rounded stomach.
Nobody notices Blair and Serena's 'girlie outings' to the country or how Chuck seems absent from school more than usual. There are a few candid shots of Serena pushing a buggy and for a while the rumour mill goes wild imagining who the father might be. That ends when a long-forgotten aunt suddenly reappears and Lily throws her a 'late babyshower'.
Just over a year after the Belgian Ball, when Eleanor suddenly adopts a one-year-old, and then seemingly looses interest in her once the media does, no one thinks it's strange. Nor are they interested when Blair takes over the girl's care- siblings in the UES are close and she's always loved a project. Adjustments are, of course, made; Blair does not go to Yale but instead Oxford, after her mother moves to London. Gossip Girl makes a few snarky comments about Chuck following her and how little Heloise is rarely seen with Eleanor, but declines to connect the dots and they're too far away for her to bother much anyway.
What she does care about is when they return- with a tasteful yet huge diamond gracing Blair's ring finger. Heloise is with them in every photograph but there is no mention of how oddly like Blair she looks (considering she's adopted) or how her brow practically screams 'Misty Bass'.
After all, to do that would be to admit they'd all been taken for fools.