A/N: Too much coffee, hay fever and way too many Sudafed led to this. Did you know quotation marks and dashes don't come out if the file was saved in html format? My bad *blush*
Warning: Language, adult themes, and unconventional romances.
Serena was in Paris when the envelope arrived. The thick vanilla paper seemed to emanate a quiet malevolence. Her name and address so perfectly scrawled in that calligrapher's pen it almost made her sick. She knew who it was from. Had known it was coming. It left her feeling cold and uncomfortable in her own skin. She dropped it to the kitchen bench amongst the empty champagne bottles, unwilling to even turn it over.
Warm arms encircled her waist and a five o'clock shadow nuzzled roughly against the skin of her neck. "Come back to bed before our guest leaves," he tempted with a sweet kiss behind her ear.
"No." The letter had ended any thoughts or yearning for fun times. As if reading her mind a petite redhead slipped out of the couple's bedroom, slinky black dress hurriedly pulled back on and spiked pumps in hand. Carter had never had a type, and neither did Serena. Well, not unless "impervious" was considered a type.
"I'm off." The slight girl called brightly. She winked at Carter and blew a kiss Serena's way. Carter let out a theatrical groan of disappointment and Serena remembered to utter a goodbye.
Carter peered at Serena's blonde tresses curiously. Her tone was hard and icy and very un -Serena like. Her eyes remained fixed on the bench, not seeing, trying hard not to feel.
"What's in the letter?" Carter asked.
"A wedding invitation," Serena drawled, trying to make it sound like nothing.
Carter tensed, wondering if it was a letter from Nathaniel Archibald, wondering if his girlfriend was right now imagining the touch of another man. His arms tightened unintentionally around Serena's waist. Her ribs were almost visible through the thin night slip—the golden silk that was Serena's skin stretched slightly too tight around her lengthy frame. But no, Carter recalled seeing Archibald in Washington just a few weeks ago and he'd been screwing everything that stood still for long enough.
"Who's the lucky couple?" Carter managed to make "lucky" sound a lot like "tragic", but Serena didn't mind. Carter could run nearly as fast as her when commitment bells were ringing. It was one of his main attractions for her. It had never occurred to Serena that he'd never run from her.
"Chuck and Blair," she sang happily, lying with her tone, if not with her words.
Carter laughed, a rough but delighted sound. "I can't believe Waldorf managed to lock Bass down. That girl's like a one woman army."
Serena made a noncommittal sound. Who locked who down was a risky topic. She knew her brunette friends probably both believed they had won some battle over the other.
"So when do we have to be in New York?"
"We don't." Serena turned around in Carter's embrace, slinging her arms around his neck carelessly. His handsome face was unnaturally flawless, especially considering the amount of alcohol (among other things) he'd consumed and the hours they'd spent teasing and pleasing their new friend instead of sleeping. Her finger curled a lock of his hair at the nape of his neck. "For some absurd reason Chuck despises you and Blair dreams about drowning you," she told him brightly. "Now usually I'd ignore this, but as it is their wedding they get a freebie—you're not coming."
When his bottom lip poked out a little she kissed him to soften the words, his rough lips encompassed hers immediately and thoughtlessly, rough regrowth digging at her tender skin in a way that sent shivers up her spine. She knew the only thing he was sad about was missing an opportunity to torment Chuck with improper remarks about his fiancée and stepsister. The war between Chuck and Carter was over half a decade old and legendary. What had started off with a bruised ego and suspicion had become more vicious with every meeting, even ending in physical blows long ago one night in Prague. Chuck had never hidden the fact that he found their relationship an affront to the natural order of things and was personally disgusted on her behalf.
Despite this, Chuck had called her a month ago, just after Blair had rung with her big news. If it was anyone else she'd say he pleaded with her to come back for the wedding, but it was Chuck Bass and he didn't plead—he bargained. Chuck had even agreed to be polite to "that poor excuse for a humanoid you call your boyfriend". But Serena didn't want Carter there. He was like a jigsaw piece that didn't quite fit into her Manhattan life. When she was little she had just folded the edges of jigsaw pieces and made whatever picture she liked, but for once she wasn't going to force these pieces together. She wanted a different picture altogether.
"Serena van der Woodsen going stag?" He scoffed.
Serena rolled her eyes. "I'm the maid of honour. My date will no doubt be whoever Blair wants it to be."
Carter narrowed cool grey into a smouldering look. He knew, just as well as she did, who would be best man. Carter was rarely jealous, too confident to consider other people competition. Serena found his grudge against Nate cute, if a little odd.
The wedding wasn't for months. Blair, being Blair, had sent her invitations politely early, leaving little room for people to manoeuvre their way out (not that anyone would dare). It was barely autumn but the wedding wasn't until the beginning of winter. Serena looked around the small apartment already thinking about leaving it behind; it was untidy as usual and luxurious enough that neither of them should have been able to afford it. Not on her casual modelling wage or his occasional sabotaging of the family business's rivals. But of course neither had even thought twice about the cost of buying an apartment with city views, in a city they sometimes liked, in a country they rarely lived in. Soon it would get chilly and they'd head south—Brazil or Indonesia, somewhere with beaches and midday cocktails.
When that letter had come, an unfamiliar ache had started deep in her chest. Loss. Serena had seldom known the feeling and it hurt all the more because of its rareness. She wanted to be happy for her friends: for Blair who deserved the world, for Chuck who would give it to her. But she wasn't. She was terrified. Her friends had been her life, her loves, her greatest strengths for so long this wedding felt like a nail in a coffin for every could-have-been. That ache begged her to go back to Manhattan, to scramble for the old pieces of her life, to tear off the edges, to force her own picture into being.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Chuck waited impatiently in the airport next to the baggage carousels. Yes, he had people that were paid for these exact situations. But no, Blair's voice rang in his head. This was Serena. Blair was doing some wedding planning stuff he'd tried very hard not to understand, so Chuck Bass himself was forced to wait for his neve- on-time stepsister, while his driver sat in the limo doing nothing.
He spotted her before she spotted him.
He didn't wave, but watched while she searched the crowd uncertainly. A smile emerged when her gaze found his, a bright grin which still lit up the room. Unable to stop it, his lips curved in response to hers. He stared as she came towards him, all long legs, short skirt, and barely contained energy. He stared because it was Serena van der Woodsen and you'd have to be bound by a lot more than a ring not to stare. Her tan was deeper than he remembered and her hair just as messy. She was too thin, but apart from that, borderline alcoholism and living with a piece of trash seemed to agree with her.
Her bouncing stride ended just in front of him. Bright eyes roved over him, as if searching for any changes. Before he could move or say anything she threw her arms around him and pressed herself tightly against him, gushing ohmygods and itsbeensolongs. For a moment he was lost in gold threads and some citrusy scent. Blair had been right, it was Serena. Nathaniel had flown in yesterday, Serena was finally home, and in under a week he'd be married to Blair. Every piece of the puzzle had fallen into place and it left him completely and utterly satisfied. He needed a cigar.
In the back of his limo they talked about inconsequential things. He complained happily about Blair's bridezilla moments (which had been epic), made bitchy commentary about UES scandals, while she regaled him with humorous (and occasionally horrific) tales of the situations she'd brought about in the dozen or so cities she lived. Neither one said the things they were thinking. It just wasn't time for "don't get married!" and "why did you leave?!".
Chuck had missed her. He didn't miss a lot of people. In fact, he could care less if most of his "friends" disappeared tomorrow. But SerenaChuckBlairNathaniel their names were meant to be together, there should never be space between them. While Serena was at Brown she'd spent every second weekend here and every holiday home or in the Hamptons. She'd graduated with a degree in media studies or communication or something and come home. And for a short time Chuck had been truly happy. It had been him and Serena drinking too much, Nate high, Blair scolding all of them (but kissing him anyway), falling asleep in the wrong beds, always waking up beside someone right . Slowly they had been building a perfectly imperfect life, and they were doing it together. But then she'd run (in the middle of the night, no goodbye, no explanation—that was Serena running), and Blair had gone quiet, and Nathaniel had just gone.
He'd paid people to find her, but he didn't have to. Within a month there were photos on the internet: Serena dancing on bars in Ibiza, kissing a prince in Portugal, modelling in Italy. By the end of the summer Carter "that fucking" Baizen was in some of the photos. By the end of the year he was in every photo. Three years later his repulsive face was still in the photos, Blair and Serena talked every now and then (fake laughs, real tears), when the couples' paths crossed it was all awkward regrets and desperate longing.
Soon he and Blair were going to be real, it was going to be the forever kind of real too. Nathaniel was moving up enough in his government job that he could live wherever he wanted, and his sister was sitting beside him—childish giggles and warm hand squeezes. He could almost touch happy again, and he was determined to make that the forever kind as well. No way was that fucker going to get in his way either.
End Note: I started writing this at 3:30AM it's now nearly five. I'll post it, wake up in the morning (afternoon) and see if it's actually worth continuing, or just the drugged-up, overtired ramblings of my not-too-sharp mind.